edenfalling | will write for food...

Current Mood: frustrated
Current Location: ithaca, ny
Crossposts: http://edenfalling.livejournal.com/882803.html

will write for food...

I am having serious trouble working up motivation to write, which is frustrating. Like, I will open a document, check where I was in the story, type maybe five words, and... nothing. Blank. It's particularly annoying if I've been mentally juggling and arranging ideas earlier in the day so I know roughly where I want to go and just can't quite get there once I am actually trying to type letters on a keyboard.

One thing that I've found helpful in the past when I've had trouble writing is to switch gears and write something completely different, and also -- this is the key part -- something with an external rather than internal pressure/reward system. Like prompt!fic.

So.

Give me one to three characters plus a mood, a scenario, or a prompt word, and I will write you a ficlet that is at least three sentences or 100 words long.

Help me out, please?

---------------

1. Kiss the Bride: Susan Pevensie as Queen of Narnia, coping with marriage proposals. 425 words, for

madamehardy. [Tumblr crosspost; AO3 version]

2. In Sure and Certain Hope: Dave, John, Jade: somber but hopeful. 275 words, for

shinyrock6498. [Tumblr crosspost; AO3 version]

3. Under Pressure: Lessee. How about some Naruto: Sakura, building pressure. 400 words, for

branch-and-root. [Tumblr crosspost; AO3 version]

4. Literal Interpretation: Jade, John, Davesprite, god worship. 675 words, for

asukaskerian. [Tumblr crosspost; AO3 version]

5. Freedom Ride: Kanaya, Aradia, Prompt word: whoops. 425 words, for

gracefularchitect. [Tumblr crosspost; AO3 version]

6. Tall Ship of War: How about Shezan and/or Ilgamuth, and boats? 225 words, for

autumnia. [Tumblr crosspost; AO3 version]

7. My Sorrow's Share: Arwen and the pro/con of choosing humanity. (I'm on a Silmarillion kick.) 125 words, for

mmarycontrary. [Tumblr crosspost; AO3 version]

8. Crowning Glory: How about Susan Pevensie, combs or haircombing? 625 words, for

cat_i_th_adage. (Also a

cottoncandy_bingo fill, because why not!) [Tumblr crosspost; AO3 version]

9. Picture Perfect: Karkat, Dave, Davepetasprite, likeness. 150 words, for

primtheamazing. [Tumblr crosspost; AO3 version]

10. Pay It Forward: Ayakawa Yukiko and educating the next generation, please. :) 1,150 words, for

wistfulmemory. (Also a

cottoncandy_bingo fill!) [Tumblr crosspost; AO3 version]

11. Mischief Night: Naruto, Sakura, Sasuke; "strangely satisfying". 550 words, for

eos_joy. (Also a

cottoncandy_bingo fill!) [Tumblr crosspost; AO3 version]

12. Necessary Measures: Rose, Jasprose, and Kanaya, bickering. 200 words, for

primtheamazing. [Tumblr crosspost; AO3 version]

13. In Abeyance, In Arrears: Bro, Dave, dour. 150 words, for anonymous on Tumblr. [Tumblr crosspost; AO3 version]

14. Broken If Revealed: Daredevil: awkward reveal, "This is- it's not what it looks like...?" 2,150 words, for

shinyrock6498. [Tumblr crosspost; AO3 version]

15. An Unorthodox Pedagogical Approach: If you’re willing (and can without spoilers), I would love a future fic showing Naruto, Shinnin, and Sakura working together as a team while on a mission. 300 words, for

wistfulmemory. [Tumblr crosspost; AO3 version]

16. Part of Your World: Jade, Rose, prompt word: adventure. 675 words, for

gracefularchitect. (Also a

cottoncandy_bingo fill!) [Tumblr crosspost; AO3 version]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

In response to a prompt from

madamehardy: Susan Pevensie as Queen of Narnia, coping with marriage proposals.

-----

"Corin, I'm honored that you like me so well you wish us to spend our lives together," Susan said, kneeling on the stone steps of Anvard so her face was level with that of the little prince. Behind her back, she closed the fingers of her left hand and twisted her wrist, as if snapping a thread. Be silent, the gesture said, and I will take care of this. The murmur of laughter and the rustle of clothes stilled into silence as her retinue and the gathered members of Lune's court made her and Corin the center of an impromptu tableau.

"So you'll be my wife?" Corin asked, his face still flushed with excitement and sticky with the residue of raspberry jam.

Susan bit her lip and did her best to look woeful. "Alas!" she said. "There are two problems. First, you are far too young to think of marriage."

"But what if--"

"You are far too young," Susan repeated. "As am I, though less so than you. Second, I think there is a secret about weddings and what comes after that no one has yet thought to tell you."

Corin scowled in fierce indignation. "What? That's not fair. Tell me!"

Susan leaned in close, placed her right hand on his shoulder, and stage-whispered in his ear: "I am sorry to tell you this terrible thing, since you have been such a good friend to me all your life. If we get married, you will have to kiss me on the mouth."

Corin jerked away and made a face as if he'd just bitten into a rotten apple.

Susan very carefully didn't laugh at him. Lune's pointed cough from behind her ensured that nobody else did either, at least not aloud. "There, you see?" she said. "'Twould never do, to break a friendship strong as ours with such unpleasantness as that. Now let us part as friends, and when we meet again next spring, this shall be naught but a memory to make us both smile."

She held out her hand in offer.

Corin hesitated for a moment. "We'll still be friends? And you'll still teach me to shoot next year? And I can still be your knight when I get bigger?"

"My word as Queen," said Susan. Corin placed his small hand against her own, and they shook solemnly in agreement.

(It was, Susan was fond of saying in later years, by far the best outcome to an unwanted proposal that she ever experienced. Corin just wished she'd stop telling the story.)

Edited 2015-09-23 02:55 (UTC)

Really liked this one! Corin is so solemn and he thinks marriage is easy when he's so young... until Susan explains what is involved. :-)

Thanks! :D

This is amazing. *lol*

So funny and sweet and a wonderful twist. I love Susan to pieces and Corin is a doll and so naive and it's just perfect. I love the tone and the prose, the flow is brilliant. Well done! ^^

Thank you! I didn't even mean to twist it, really; this was quite literally the first thing that popped into my head when I read the prompt. Usually my first-impulse responses lean more toward the morbid, but I will take cute when I get it. :-)

You and me both! *snickers* Either way, it is very well done. ^^

Hee hee hee WIN

I had fun with that one. :D

In response to a prompt from

shinyrock6498: Dave, John, Jade: somber but hopeful

-----

"And remember, be respectful! Rose died. We know she's going to wake up and remember everything from both lives, but none of her family or other friends do and it would be incredibly rude to act like there's nothing to mourn, especially since the crash was so bad they had to do a closed-casket ceremony," Jade said as she parked her Jeep outside the cemetery where Rose's family had been burying their relatives for generations.

Dave adjusted his suit coat and ran a hand through his hair, tidying it after the adventure of Jade's driving. "I'm still hung up on the part where she actually unbent enough to make other friends, let alone go drag-racing with them. I'm pretty sure original flavor Lalonde would rather have died than--"

The air in his mouth and throat abruptly vanished before he could finish his sentence.

"Dude. Not cool," John said as Dave sucked in a new breath and struggled not to cough.

"Yeah, seriously," Jade said. She hooked her left arm around Dave's right and began tugging him toward the cemetery gates. "I respect your coping mechanisms, but this is not the time or place. Wait until the corpse party when Rose can join in."

"You're being stupidly oversensitive and Rose would agree with me," Dave grumbled. "Both versions of her, even. But fine. Whatever. You're the friendleaders." He ran his fingers over his lips as if zipping them shut, then fished one of Jane's homemade apple-flavor hard candies out of his pocket and popped it into his mouth. He could make it through a funeral without talking if he really tried.

Tomorrow he'd have his sister back.

Edited 2015-09-23 04:39 (UTC)

In response to a prompt from

branch-and-root: Lessee. How about some Naruto: Sakura, building pressure.

I think this is part of the Tides AU, taking place at some unspecified point after Troy in Reverse.

-----

When she gets out of here, Sakura decides, she is going to learn some earth jutsu. Not only will it be a practical way to shore up the team's weaknesses -- none of them are very good at defense, too focused on causing or fixing damage rather than preventing it in the first place -- it will ensure that she never ends up this helpless again.

She lifts her right hand the bare fingerbreadth she has room for and grinds her knuckles into the stones holding her underground. Chakra pulses through her body, waiting to be released, but precision can never entirely compensate for raw strength and a strike would only bring the rest of the rubble tumbling down to crush her flat. It's already a miracle that she survived the first avalanche, that a trickle of fresh air is seeping in through some maze of hair-thin gaps too small and too offset to allow any light into her prison. Sakura doesn't want to press her luck.

It was nearly sunset when she and the boys ran across two former Earth-nin on the Wind Country border. She thinks it's probably midnight by now. She took out one of the idiots herself, which is why she was vulnerable to a strike in her blind spot. She's sure Naruto and Sasuke made short work of the other after he buried her. She's equally sure they'll dig her out eventually.

(Naruto could probably manage the excavation faster with a whirlwind, but she's glad either he saw sense or Sasuke punched some into him. Being the target of that much force, however well-intentioned, would also press her luck in ways she'd rather avoid.)

Something shifts above her and twenty tons of rock are suddenly resting directly on her left shin. Sakura grits her teeth against the shock of pain and channels her chakra to the point of contact, reinforcing bone, muscle, and skin. "Be careful!" she shouts, on the off chance that her teammates can hear.

No answer comes, just another shift and resettling of stone, this time onto the right half of her ribcage.

Fuck.

Sakura sacrifices her leg, orders herself to ignore the snap of bone and the slow seep of blood from veins and arteries she can't accurately pinch shut without either sight or the touch of her hands, and does her best to keep breathing until she sees the sky.

Edited 2015-09-23 05:26 (UTC)

This is amazing. I feel claustrophobic and afraid for Sakura, which I think is just such a credit to you and your writing. The descriptions are perfect, the flow and logic right on point, and Sakura? Fantastic!

Thanks! (I promise she gets out alive. And then heals her leg, because she's a very good medic-nin.)

(I figured...because she really, really is. *side eyes canon like whuuuut*)

In response to a prompt from

asukaskerian: Jade, John, Davesprite, god worship.

-----

-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] --

EB: hey dave sprite?
TG: yeah what
EB: this is kind of a weird question and i just realized i have no idea how to lead in to it so the question itself will make any sense, bluh.
EB: hmm. you go to lohac sometimes right?
TG: no
EB: oh.
EB: why not?
TG: reasons
EB: wow that was very enlightening! i feel so enlightened.
TG: cool for you look is this conversation going anywhere or can i get back to jamming with jade
TG: we had a groove going and i can feel it slipping away with every blue word that waffles across my shades
TG: all that music drowned in a sea of expansive egbertian evasions
EB: it's going somewhere!
EB: but like i said, i'm not sure how to lead in to the actual question.
TG: heres a thought why not just ASK the question
TG: explanations can come after if needed
EB: fine, whatever.
EB: do your consorts
EB: (or dave's consorts, i guess)
EB: treat you kind of... weirdly?
TG: define weird
EB: ...
EB: this is going to sound so egotistical that i can hear rose mocking me from another universe.
EB: but fine, i'll stop waffling.
EB: do they treat you like a god?
TG: no
EB: huh. really?
TG: really
TG: whod worship leftover scraps man that would be a dumb religion
TG: they talk about alpha dave that way though which is what youre really asking
TG: and jades iguanas think shes straight up the goddess of spring or some shit like that
TG: melted all the snow and brought back the green when she kindled the forge
TG: they have hymns and altars and everything
TG: and speaking as a piece of game mechanics i can promise you theyre not faking and this is perfectly normal for sburb
TG: god tier equals god
TG: its right there in the fuckin name this is not rocket science
EB: i am so uncomfortable with this.
TG: yeah well learn to deal
TG: hey jades been reading over my shoulder and she wants to talk to you
EB: i don't WANT to deal! i want it to go away!
TG: she says and i quote
TG: john stop bugging davesprite about this its really awkward for some reasons i cant tell you because theyre not my secrets and other reasons that should be obvious if you take a minute to think you doofus
EB: hey!
TG: i will talk to you later if youre still freaking out
TG: because being a god is way more responsibility than i want and i bet if that freaks me out it must freak you out even more
TG: but for now come over and play music with us
TG: you will feel better and also listening to the concert were going to put on in a few days will improve the quality of your consorts liturgical music by literally immeasurable amounts
TG: and when a witch of space says something is literally immeasurable you know its serious business mister
TG: endquote
TG: oh wait sorry
TG: <3 <3 <3 then endquote
TG: cant forget the love
EB: well you can tell jade that her subtle insults to my intelligence and status as an awesome and considerate friendleader did not go unnoticed.
EB: but i'll come over anyway because there is never a wrong time for music.
EB: and anything that might improve those hymns sounds like a good idea to me.
TG: word
TG: and on that note
TG: i suggest you blow your current popsicle stand and deus yourself up a machina in the form of a piano
EB: dave sprite!
EB: that is a bad joke and you should feel bad.
TG: like i care about joke quality clown shits your territory not mine
TG: and speaking of territory were in the third starboard ballroom, next to nannasprites kitchen
TG: follow the antiphonal chanting

-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] --

EB: dave sprite!!!
EB: ...
EB: vengeance will be mine.

Hmm...how about:

Naruto: Naruto, Sakura, Sasuke; "strangely satisfying"

(I miss Naruto ;__;)

The prompt text kind of fell out of this ficlet between inspiration and final result. Oops?

Anyway, this is another Tides AU installment, because apparently I feel bad about never actually writing the second and third fics in that sequence. This one kind of gives away the ultimate ending -- Team 7 come home together after plot stuff involving Akatsuki and whatnot -- but that was never a huge secret. It's also a Cotton Candy Bingo fill for the prompt play. *grin*

-----

"This is objectively a terrible idea, not to mention stupid," Sakura says as she clings to the side of the Fire Lord's residence, disguised by darkness and the most delicate and unobtrusive genjutsu she can managed. "I hope you brought gloves because I am not healing any scratches unless they're through your eyelids or your dicks, or something equally hilarious."

"That's mean, Sakura-chan," Naruto says reproachfully. "Mean and also a lie. You love us too much to let us suffer."

"Both of you shut up and let me concentrate on breaking the security alarms," Sasuke says as his hands dance just over the surface of the windowpane, occasionally plucking and moving chakra threads invisible to normal sight. "If we're doing this at all, we're doing it right."

"Obviously we're doing it," Naruto says. "D-rank missions don't create themselves! We're making work for new genin teams, which is practically a patriotic duty when you think about it, and we kinda need to polish up our loyal Leaf-nin credentials if we're finally coming home. Oh hey! That reminds me -- once we finish replanting all the sweet potatoes upside-down, we should paint the Hokage monument for old times' sake. I bet Tsunade-baachan will love that."

"Clear," Sasuke says before Sakura can draw breath to explain to Naruto all the ways in which his logic fails to make any sense at all. "The seals will reset in half an hour -- I can't disrupt that without setting off a failsafe alarm -- so if anyone has suggestions for luring a cat into the open, share them now."

Wordlessly, Naruto fishes a tin of tuna out of his pocket. Sakura holds up a small bag of catnip.

Sasuke closes his eyes and looks pained.

Sakura turns her head to meet Naruto's amused gaze. "He didn't plan ahead, did he," she says.

Naruto shakes his head in exaggerated sorrow. "Nope. He never does. I don't know why I expected anything else."

"It's tragic," Sakura agrees.

"I don't know either of you," Sasuke says. "And I'm going to catch Tora while you're still figuring out how to open that tin without a can-opener." He pushes the windowpane up and swings in through the narrow gap, landing soundlessly on the polished wood floor of Lady Shijimi's music room.

Sakura watches him stalk across the room, around the piano, and out the door without bothering to check underneath or inside any of the furnishings. He also doesn't bother with a genjutsu, which is probably going to bite him in his very nicely shaped ass when a guard spots him and he remembers he can't use lethal force against a fellow Leaf-nin. (Naruto isn't using genjutsu either, but Sakura has given up being surprised at his improbable knack for stealth.)

"Do you ever think we should stop teasing Sasuke so much?" she wonders.

Naruto flicks his fingers at her headband, still blank and showing no allegiance for one more night before they all come home for the third and hopefully final time. "Nah. If we stopped, how would he know we still care? Now come on, the sooner we grab the cat, the more other fun stuff we can pull off before we have to start acting responsible again."

He rolls through the gap between sill and glass and beckons Sakura to follow.

In response to a prompt from

gracefularchitect: Kanaya, Aradia, Prompt word: whoops

-----

"'Whoops?' That is not a reassuring word coming from a starship," Kanaya said with an equally unreassuring dryness in her voice.

Aradia couldn't move much in the helmsrig, but she spared a brief flare of teek to flap a dismissive biowire in her crewmate's direction. "Don't get sarcastic at me, everything is under control! We're just making an emergency landing behind the exhaust vents of Battleship Condescension. Looks like we get to test Equius's voidy thing against live trolls a few days earlier than planned." She toggled on the ship-wide intercom and repeated the last two sentences for the benefit of the crew at large, then routed all complaint calls to Karkat up on the bridge.

Kanaya seemed to be struggling between an impulse to disapprove of Aradia's approach to protocol and an equally strong impulse to laugh. She compromised by setting down her pruning shears (biowires could and would take over an entire helmsblock within a week if they weren't properly tended) and resting a hand on the control board, next to the bank of buttons and levers formerly marked 'Emergency Failsafes' and now either melted into slag or relabeled 'Let Aradia Have a Life (Without Electrocuting Her in the Process, Numbglobes!)'. "Do you want to accompany the boarding party?" she asked.

"It would be fun, wouldn't it? But no." Aradia sighed. "It's more important to ensure we have a quick escape than to throw another body into danger. I'll do what I can to lure some ghosts through the hull and pass on any useful information. Just don't get captured. The point of a rescue mission is to leave with more people than we came with, not the other way around."

"We'll bring Sollux and Feferi back," Kanaya promised.

Only if that was the way things had to go to make the timeline work, Aradia thought. And she didn't know the future anymore. She had no way to be sure that saving her matesprit and moirail -- saving an Heiress who wanted to dismantle her heritage and the most powerful psionic hatched in generations, who also happened to be the descendant of a heretical rebel cult leader -- wouldn't spark some even worse catastrophe down the line.

But no. That was the voice of futility and the empty dead. She was alive, her friends were out of the game, and this time around they were going to make the universe bend toward justice, Empire and Empress be damned.

"Yeah," Aradia said. "Of course you will. And then we can really get to work."

Edited 2015-09-29 03:52 (UTC)

In response to a prompt from

mmarycontrary: Arwen and the pro/con of choosing humanity. (I'm on a Silmarillion kick.)

This is very short mostly because I am working only from slightly hazy memory. (Apparently I am too lazy to go look up details even though my copy of the Silmarillion is sitting literally six feet away from me as I type this. *sigh*) Title is a line from ‘On Another’s Sorrow’ by William Blake, because I couldn’t condense the Four Noble Truths into something both pithy and appropriate.

-----

When Arwen was younger, she watched her father mourn his brother and could not understand her uncle's choice. She would never cause such pain to her family.

Now that she is older, she knows that grief and loss are inevitable. Even the promise of reunion in Valinor comes at the price of leaving all that is good and fair here in Middle-Earth. And to stay forever young, to persist unchanging until she has outlived descendants as far removed from her as Estel is from Elros? Would that bring anyone joy?

It would not, Arwen thinks, as she takes her husband's hand and joins her fate to his. Sorrow is inevitable, but she can choose its form, and she will not cause such pain to herself.

Edited 2015-09-26 07:37 (UTC)

In response to a prompt from

primtheamazing: Karkat, Dave, Davepetasprite, likeness.

-----

"Stay still, dammit, I need a good photo of you guys fur my new shipping wall!" Davepetasprite said, flickering through time in hot pursuit of their targets.

Finally Dave seemed to realize that time travel wasn't a viable form of escape. He shoved Karkat behind him instead (aww, so cute!) and said, "Isn't that a little narcissistic or something? I mean since you're kind of half me?"

Karkat's protests were muffled into incoherence by a fold of Dave's cape.

Davepetasprite flexed their wings in a shrug. "Yeah, maybe. But who cares! I'm cute, you're cute, and Karkitty is cutest of all, so for the last time stay still befur I have to get creative." They held up the camera just as Karkat stuck his head over Dave's shoulder, a confused frown tugging his eyebrows down into an adorably grumpy triangle, and pressed the shutter release to capture the scene.

Purrfect.

In response to a prompt from

primtheamazing: Rose, Jasprose, and Kanaya, bickering

-----

"Rose. Rose. Excuse me. Jasprose? I feel it's only polite to inform you both that if you don't cease these constant verbal attacks I will be forced to take steps. I will do so whether or not you understand this warning."

"One moment, Kanaya," Rose said in the distracted manner that meant she hadn't registered the meaning of a single word, nor Kanaya's increasingly irritated tone of voice. At the other end of the sofa, Jasprose smiled sweetly and inquired if Rose would like to restate her last point because clearly she couldn't have meant to sound as ignorant as her words had implied.

Kanaya counted to twelve. Then she slammed the purple embroidered cushion down between her matesprit and her matesprit's alternate potential fate. Rose tipped backward onto the sofa's arm, while Jasprose levitated toward the ceiling, claws out and face-tentacles thrashing in alarm.

"Thank you," Kanaya said, tucking the cushion back into her sylladex. "Now, as I was saying. If you don't find some way to coexist in relative peace, I will have to find you an auspistice. I'm sure Karkat would be thrilled to volunteer. Failing that, I've been considering John. Or Roxy."

She smiled at the badly concealed panic on two versions of Rose's face.

Mission accomplished.

In response to a prompt from anonymous on Tumblr: Bro, Dave, dour

-----

If he had smiled, even once -- a little 'hey, not bad' tip of the hat to Dave's efforts to improve his strifing skills, a rueful 'yeah, I hear you man, that's rough' to one of Dave's veiled complaints, even just a 'dude, wasn't that sweet' half-millimeter quirk of his mouth at something he himself did -- then things would... still have been fucking awful, actually. Maybe even worse; Dave has read some of the psychology studies Rose keeps pushing at him, and he knows about irregular reward systems and how they hook you more than heroin. Maybe flat upfront nothing was better.

But he still dreams of Bro's broad-shouldered silhouette walking away, and can't stop himself from running after and hoping that maybe this time -- maybe just once, in all the universes there ever were or ever will be -- his brother will stop, and turn, and show him a single beat of love.

In response to a prompt from

shinyrock6498: Daredevil: awkward reveal, "This is- it's not what it looks like...?"

*sits down to write a cute and tiny fill*

*looks up two days and two thousand words of angst later*

...Something went awry here. Deeply, seriously awry. Um. Hopefully you will enjoy the results anyway, though I am fairly sure they are not what you were looking for when you made the prompt.

-----

Karen generally had a lot of respect for Matt and Foggy -- they'd slogged through law school and passed the bar without losing their moral compasses, after all -- but when it came to common sense... well, that was a different question. She was absolutely sure their firm would crash and burn without her. Matt was locked in a bitter war with his spellchecker, Foggy couldn't manage accounting to save his life, and neither of them had the slightest idea how to maintain either physical or electronic filing systems.

Despite privacy concerns, she'd gotten in the habit of going through Foggy's desk when he and Matt took a long Friday lunch, just to make sure he didn't lose important documents in the chaos. (Matt, more sensible on this subject, didn't even try to keep his own documents and just gave her a Braille label-maker and a brief lesson in its use so he could navigate her own filing cabinets.)

So far she'd retrieved one overdue bill just in time to keep their electricity from being turned off, one accidentally overlooked witness statement that turned out to unravel a key portion of the prosecution's case against Ms. Agatha Neuhauser, and the takeout menu for the Japanese-Tibetan fusion restaurant Foggy was in love with. She'd left them all in Foggy's inbox without comment, and indulged in a mix of pride and amusement that he still hadn't figured out that she was his mysterious 'paperwork fairy-godmother.'

Today, though, she didn't want to let her discovery pass in silence.

"Hey, Foggy, can I ask you something?" she said when he and Matt piled in through the main door, still laughing over who even knew what.

Something in her voice must have given away her mood, because Matt raised his eyebrows, said, "I'll get started on the motion to compel disclosure of Mr. Rathore's travel itinerary and leave you two alone, shall I?" and vanished abruptly into his office.

Foggy frowned after him, good mood deflating slightly. Then he turned back to Karen with a broad smile. "Sure, ask away. Oh, wait -- did I screw up my billable hour reporting again? If I did, I am so, so sorry, and I swear I'll... probably keep doing it, but hopefully not again until next week?"

Karen smiled despite herself. "You won't be in the office until next week. I think that's a pretty safe bet," she said. "But no, I wanted to talk to you about a file." She glanced toward Matt's office, with its closed door and shadowed interior -- he'd forgotten to turn the light on again -- and bit her lip. "Um. Come into the conference room?"

Foggy also glanced at Matt's door, then looked back toward Karen with an uneasy expression. "Uh, sure. But be honest with me here: on a scale of one to 'I can never show my face in public again,' how embarrassing is this going to be?"

"To be determined," Karen said, and opened the door to the conference room -- which hardly deserved the name, but she shared Foggy's belief that it was important to plan ahead. She liked that about him, liked to talk half-jokingly, half-seriously about the future they and Matt would share.

She was less sure now that they were anticipating the same future.

Foggy closed the door, lowered its cheap plastic blind, and sat down across the equally cheap plastic table from Karen. He folded his hands, took a deep breath, and said, "Okay, hit me."

Karen set the unlabeled file folder she'd been holding onto the table. Then she flipped the front cover open to show the slimmer, bright red folder hidden inside, bearing a label in Foggy's looping handwriting: 'Contingency Plans (for when Matt's life inevitably goes to hell because he is a masochistic ASSHOLE)'.

Foggy's breath caught audibly in his throat. "Oh," he said. "Uh. This is-- it's not what it looks like?"

Karen put her hands flat on the table and leaned forward. "I think it's exactly what it looks like. And I think it's only the tip of the iceberg, because you're amazingly cryptic even in private notes. So tell me, what is Matt doing that makes you think he's going to get arrested and disbarred, or just plain killed? Is he trying to infiltrate the mob? Is it related to that 'car crash' from two months ago? Which I know was not an actual car crash, by the way, and I'm going to get the real story someday, but that's not important right now."

Foggy was trying to interrupt. She plowed over him, doing her best to convey her anger without getting so loud Matt might overhear. "Whatever the problem is, why haven't you done anything to get him out of it instead of just assuming he's going to crash and burn? And why didn't you tell me anything? He's my friend too! I work here too! I have a right to know -- and to help!"

"And I have a right to expect my private notes to stay private," Foggy countered. "Why were you going through my desk in the first place?"

"Because you can't organize things to save your life and somebody needs to make sure you don't lose important stuff behind your secret stash of Starbursts," Karen said. "That's not the point. The point is that Matt clearly needs our help, that I am sick of secrets, and that we all need to work together if we're going to stay alive long enough to do any good for the people of New York."

Foggy opened and closed his mouth several times. When he finally found some words, they weren't much more coherent: "I-- that is-- I wish--" He took a deep breath and tried again. "Look, you're absolutely right that Matt needs help and secrets are terrible, but it's not my place--"

The door swung open to reveal Matt, sans cane, standing with an unfamiliar tension in his shoulders and a strange twist to his mouth. "Foggy. Thank you for-- for everything. But Karen's right. I do need your help -- both of you -- and I think maybe I'm getting tired of secrets too. Especially since they seem to be contagious."

Foggy glanced at the red folder and winced.

"Matt?" Karen frowned in confusion. She hadn't heard him leave his office, and how had he overheard them anyway? "Um. I'm sorry for talking to Foggy behind your back. I didn't want to pressure you, but--"

Matt pulled off his glasses, revealing a faded black eye and a small cut just at the top of his cheekbone, as if he'd been punched by someone wearing a sharp-edged ring. "Karen. It's okay. I should probably have told you this a while ago, but I'm not very good at-- at being open."

"No shit. Which is hilarious considering what a pathetic liar you are," Foggy said, a little sourly. "You only get away with it because your life is so implausible nobody in their right mind would ever guess the truth."

Matt looked pained. Karen felt her eyebrows rise. "This is what you argued about, isn't it. The car crash that wasn't a car crash, and whatever has Foggy so worried he's making contingency plans for what sounds like-- like you dying and bringing everything we've worked for crashing down with you. So what is it?"

Matt swallowed, aimed his eyes toward her mouth, and said, "I'm Daredevil."

"Bullshit," Karen said involuntarily.

But as Matt and Foggy started talking over each other in an amazingly incompetent attempt to explain -- made worse by the fact that Matt clearly didn't want to and Foggy was obviously a bit vague on the details of the whole thing -- evidence slotted together in her mind, piece after damning piece. How the man in the mask knew to be at her apartment the night she retrieved the files. Matt's constant injuries. The way Matt and Foggy had stammered through a non-explanation of how they'd contacted the Devil. Matt's grace at avoiding temporary obstacles when he was tired or distracted, even though he'd crash into them when he was awake and alert. Why they couldn't get hold of Matt the night of the bombings.

It was completely implausible -- completely impossible -- and yet...

"Oh my god. You are Daredevil. I don't know how, but you are."

Matt made an annoyed noise in the back of his throat. "I've just been trying to tell--"

"I don't care how you do it! Not now. I'll care later. Later you're going to tell me everything. But Foggy's right. This is going to go to hell, and then Foggy and I will have to pick up the pieces. What if they disbar you? What if they let Fisk out? What if--" What if somebody started looking into Matt and found out all of Karen's secrets in the process? What if Fisk found out? About his mother, about Wesley, about--

Karen pressed her hands to her face and tried to breathe.

"Hey. Hey, Karen." Foggy leaned across the table to brush his fingers against her shoulder. "That's why I made the folder. Because we need to plan for the worst, just in case. But now you can help me knock sense into Matt so he stays safe -- well, safer -- well, less unsafe -- and plan some good alibis and just, organize things so they work. Like you already do, but now you, too, can join in the illegal and morally dubious side business I didn't know I was establishing alongside our nice, honest law firm!"

The joke fell like a deflated balloon through the sound of Karen's ragged breathing.

Matt's face crumpled and he stepped forward, reaching out in entreaty. "Foggy, I'm--"

"If you say you're sorry one more time without putting forth any genuine plans to change what you're doing, I will hit you," Foggy said. "I don't care if you're a ninja. I will do it. Then I will start doing my laundry with too much Tide and those spring-fresh dryer sheets, buy some hideously floral-scented shampoo and a clashing cologne, and spill cheese snacks all around the office until you sneeze yourself into submission."

"Please don't," Karen said from behind the shield of her hands, her breath and heartbeat finally approaching normal once more. "I like breathing through my nose and I think I'd have to stop if you do that."

"Yeah, I think-- I think that counts as cruel and unusual punishment," Matt said, the careful lightness of his words a thin disguise over the watery tone of his voice. "We should keep it so I'm the only one in the firm actively breaking the law."

Karen lost the next minute to the roar of blood in her ears and the frantic struggle to draw air back into her lungs. When she could hear again, both Matt and Foggy had rounded the table; Foggy was rubbing her back while Matt held her shaking hands pressed between his own palms.

"Breathe," he was saying. "In, and hold, two, three. Now out, and hold, two, three. It's okay, Karen. Now in, and hold, two, three. And out, and hold--"

"It's-- I've got it. I'm good. You can stop," Karen managed to say. "Thank you. I'm sorry."

"Seriously, what is it with you people and your unfair hotness and inability to understand the proper application of apologies?" Foggy asked the air. "You don't need to apologize for a panic attack. What you need is a hug and a drink. Maybe not in that order."

Karen lowered her hands to the table, then wrapped her fingers around Matt's wrists when he tried to pull away. "I do need to apologize, though. Because Matt's not the only one with secrets. And mine could cause-- could cause--"

She felt Matt's pulse warm under her fingertips and Foggy's hand gentle and comforting on her shoulder. She wanted them to stay this close forever, but she couldn't bear to let them keep comforting her under false pretenses. "Do you remember James Wesley? Fisk's assistant, who hired you to defend Mr. Healy and then disappeared?" she asked.

Matt grimaced and nodded.

"That slimy creep?" Foggy said. "Ugh. What about him?"

Karen closed her eyes and shoved through the panic setting like glue in her throat. "I killed him. I shot him six times and wiped down the table and threw away the gun. I didn't need to, I could have stopped after one and gotten away, but I killed him and I'm not sorry."

Both Matt and Foggy had gone very still during her little speech.

But they didn't pull away.

Oh, Karen thought. Oh. She opened her eyes. "I think," she said, looking down at the red paper under her hands, "that if you're serious about all three of us working together, you might need a contingency folder for me too."

Edited 2015-10-03 04:54 (UTC)

In response to a prompt from

gracefularchitect: If you're willing to take seconds: Jade, Rose, prompt word: adventure

This seems to have turned into a tiny sequel to New Roots, which is a no-Sburb AU in which Rose is a published author and Jade owns and runs a sort of combined florist/garden shop business. It's also a Cotton Candy Bingo fill for the prompt bed.

-----

Rose shifts on her quilt, uneasy at being naked in broad daylight with the windows open, though she knows rationally nobody can see into her second-story bedroom through the dogwood tree and the lacy gray curtains. But Jade said that if Rose wouldn't get a tattoo the next best thing was body art and Rose enjoys indulging Jade's more lighthearted whims, so here she is, trying not to jostle her girlfriend's hands while Jade traces cool lines over her back with a pair of black and purple Sharpies.

She doesn't know what the finished design is meant to be. She doesn't know where Jade's hands will move next. She doesn't know how Jade will want to show her off once her masterpiece is finished.

There's something delicious about being so willingly vulnerable, something charged with an energy that isn't quite sexual but could tip her over the edge into arousal at the change of a breath or a misplaced (correctly placed?) brush of skin on skin. Rose might need to write this scenario into a book someday -- altered and anonymized, of course.

And speaking of vulnerability...

"I've been thinking," Rose says into her pillow.

"A dangerous pastime!" Jade says, the words slightly mangled by the purple marker cap held between her teeth. Her right hand continues to make repetitive curved strokes in the hollow between Rose's shoulder blades.

Rose turns her head just enough to catch Jade's gaze through her sleep-mussed hair and raise a single unimpressed eyebrow. "Do you really want to start a Disney quote-off with me? Please recall which one of us grew up in a saccharine-soaked household with a mother who worshipped all things cute and even mildly redolent of magic, and which one grew up in an abandoned robotics factory repurposed into a survivalist hunting lodge."

"Yeah, and which one of us built her own television specifically to catch up on all the pop culture she missed before her thirteenth birthday?" Jade returns as she switches markers and draws a series of tiny circles over Rose's left hip. "But sure, we'll table the battle for later. I don't want you to laugh and spoil my art. End of tangent! What have you been thinking about, and why does it deserve such a vague and ominous lead-in?"

"To answer the latter: habit, I suppose. It certainly wasn't intentional. To answer the former--" Rose pauses, clenches her fingers around the edge of her mattress where the pillow will hide her tension from Jade, and says, "Would you move in with me?"

The marker stills on her back. "Huh," Jade says. "That was not what I was expecting you to say."

Rose tries very hard to keep her voice level. "Occasionally I strive for novelty. But, would you? We've been dating for nearly thirteen months, I have space going to waste, and I-- I'm tired of having to say goodbye so often. I want to know that when you say you're going home, you mean the same place I do."

"Are you sure you've thought this through?" Jade asks. "I mean, Bec might not get along with Jaspers. You might not like plants and circuit boards taking over all your shelves and tables, or long hair clogging your shower. I might not like being psychoanalyzed before breakfast every morning, or the inability to keep beer in the house for unwinding after a shitty day, or your crazy amounts of fan mail. There are a lot of potential pitfalls."

It's true; there are. Rose has listed a good three dozen in the month since she kissed Jade goodbye after dinner on Sunday and thought, 'If she lived here she wouldn't have to leave. We could wake up on Monday together. In our bed.'

"We might crash and burn horribly," she agrees. "But I want to try. If you're willing."

"Well," Jade says. "I've never turned back from an adventure yet. We'll just have to defeat any challenges together."

She leans down, careful not to smudge the still-wet lines on Rose's back, and tips Rose's chin up for a kiss.

Hmm. I was re-reading To Every Thing There Is a Season last night (which totally distracted me from writing) so how about: Shezan and/or Ilgamuth, and boats?

Here is a little snippet leading in to HHB!

-----

"Truly, a lovely ship," Shezan said as the Narnian vessel rode the salt wash of incoming tide up the Shirush from the sea.

Beside her, two paces back and left from where Rabadash waited in ill-concealed impatience, Ilgamuth frowned. "Lovely, yes, and small compared to the royal treasure fleet, but that is no pleasure craft; it is a warship in festival finery."

Shezan shrugged. "I will take your word for it, as my only travels have been along the river and my knowledge of ships is lacking. But I will also remind you that Rabadash took no pleasure craft when you and he sailed north this spring, but rather two swift galleys still crewed with all their soldiers. Is it surprising, O most careful of guardians, that the barbarians should follow his lead in their own fashion?"

"Perhaps not," Ilgamuth allowed, "but until the navy returns from patrol in the southern reaches, we have no vessel in Tashbaan to match this one. Is it surprising, O most perceptive of priestesses, that this circumstance should cause me unease?"

"Perhaps not," Shezan allowed in turn.

But before she could say anything else on the subject, ropes were tossed between ship and shore, the great horns blew once in greeting, and the entire welcome party swept forward in Rabadash's wake to see the barbarian queen.

It's so much fun to see a lot of fics set during HHB recently and I love this snippet! Using warships for what is supposedly a friendly diplomatic visit sends a certain, subtle message doesn't it? :-)

It certainly does. :-)

Um, how about Susan Pevensie, combs or haircombing?

(I just like Susan, okay?)

This is both a response to your prompt and a Cotton Candy Bingo fill for the prompt lazy day, because I was feeling efficient. Vinyedvyeri is a country to the northwest of Narnia, first encountered in Queen Lucy, the Firebird, and the Death of Koschei the Deathless, and yes, the stealth crossover element still applies. *grin*

I am not entirely sure how this ended up in Edmund's POV when he wasn't even in the prompt, but he's sneaky like that.

-----

"I have decided to cut it all off," Susan says as Edmund runs a comb through her hair. It's still damp from its weekly washing, gleaming in the sun, and the warm scent of lavender rises from the dark, heavy mass as it spills over Edmund's lap.

"Again?" he says absently, most of his attention on a particularly stubborn tangle.

"I mean it this time," Susan insists in sleepy indignation, not bothering to raise her head from her arms, which are crossed on the balcony rail. "'Tisn't practical. I'm forever losing minutes here and there maneuvering plaits around, to say naught of the time spent putting those plaits in, or brushing the whole dratted mess, or wasting an entire afternoon with washing and combing and letting it dry. Even discounting the misuse of time, I have come a paw's breadth from strangling or smothering myself in my sleep more times than I can count, and two nights past when I let my hair down to impress Lord Auditor Arseny of Vinyedvyeri, I stepped on some strands and nearly screamed in open court from the pain. Lucy never has to deal with any such nonsense. So I shall cut it off."

Her skirts swish in Edmund's general direction, disrupted by a mostly-symbolic kick.

"Valid points, all," Edmund agrees. "As they were last week, and a fortnight ago, and so on back for years." The tangle unknots itself and he makes a little noise of triumph in the back of his throat.

"You might at least pretend to believe me," Susan says.

"Would that not be a waste of time, such as you were only now disdaining?"

Susan snarls, a soft, unserious echo of a rumpled cat, and tugs one of her hands free long enough to flick a hairpin toward Edmund. It strikes him directly on the forehead, her aim impeccable as always though she is working only off of memory, sound, and the rhythmic pull of the comb through her hair.

"If you are awake enough for that, I think you are awake enough to review the latest harvest estimates from the Beruna valley or the Lone Islands' petition for adjusted trade terms," Edmund says. "And so we will turn this time from one useful purpose -- that being to give you a space to breathe without the press of duty -- to another. Or you could continue to enjoy the sun and the breeze and save the business of government for the evening."

Susan sighs into her sleeves. "Someday I will convince you that it is neither unsafe nor unseemly to ask for respite on your own behalf rather than concealing your own needs as concern for mine," she says.

Edmund's hands still for a moment. He always forgets how well his sister knows him in particular and can read people in general, though she turns her skills to gentler pursuits than his. He forces the comb back into motion and hopes Susan won't mention his lapse.

She is kind: "Yes, brother, let us continue to enjoy the afternoon. And when you have finished with my hair, I shall claim recompense to play with yours, which has grown far too long for you to continue ignoring it the way you are wont to do. I have quite the collection of beads and buttons to weave into plaits, and you cannot deny the Crows will appreciate such a gesture toward their ways."

Edmund thinks of the likely results, and the pompous Lord Auditor's likely reaction to them. He lets his smile rise to his lips rather than bite it back the way he so often does in court.

"As you wish," he says, and begins to separate Susan's hair into strands for plaiting.

Oh, that's just lovely - the quiet intimacy of it, and the hint of subtle politicking, and the mirth at the end.

Also, that's some seriously long hair she's got.

Thank you!

(I am only exaggerating a tiny bit about the hair. In the final pages of LWW, Lewis says that 'Susan grew into a tall and gracious woman with black hair that fell almost to her feet', so we know it's ridiculously long. I also assume she wears it up most of the time since Shasta doesn't notice its length during HHB. I just decided that for at least a couple years, 'almost to her feet' meant actually to her feet, though Susan probably did trim a few inches off eventually in the interest of not tripping herself.)

I just realized I've forgotten your AO3 username. *headdesk* Please tell me (again) so I can correctly gift this to you over there!

Oh, it's Thimblerig.

(Sorry for replying so late: I only just realised that you'd asked.)

I loved reading it through again.

I always thought Susan should have cut her very long hair -- it's totally not practical unless a Queen does nothing but sit and look pretty. :-)

I suspect this is just a nice ritual between the middle siblings where confidences can be shared as well as spending some quiet time with each other.

Super-long hair is definitely one of those beauty ideals that are predicated on the assumption that women are to be decorative objects in others' lives rather than active subjects in their own. Which is not to say that people can't be active with hair down to their feet, just that it takes a fair bit of doing to work around the obvious impracticalities.

This is absolutely Susan and Edmund's weekly private ritual where they get to (ha) let down their hair and just relax and chat with each other. I suspect all the sibling pairs have something that serves a similar purpose, though obviously the details will be different in each case.

Ayakawa Yukiko and educating the next generation, please. :)

This fill, uh, got away from me a little. *twitch* What can I say; education is a topic about which I have Feelings. In timeline terms, this scene probably happens three or four weeks before the opening chapter of "The Guardian in Spite of Herself." (The ficlet is also acting as a Cotton Candy Bingo fill, for the prompt opportunity, because why not.)

-----

"They'd make a decent team, you know," Yukiko said to Iruka after lunch, while Naruto, Shinnin, and Sakura wobbled around her yard, playing tag from unsteady handstand positions.

Iruka turned from his investigation of the rose vines Yukiko was trying to coax up a trellis to shade her building's back door. "Oh?"

Yukiko hooked her feet around the front legs of her deck chair and tilted backward, testing her own balance just for fun. "Naruto's never going to have great precision, but dump his chakra reserves into combat-level ninjutsu and he'll be terrifying. Shinnin has great proprioception and she's unnervingly calm around knives--"

"Her parents are butchers," Iruka said. "She's not great at target practice, but she can carve up a test dummy faster than almost anyone else in the class."

"Huh. Makes sense. Anyway, that's ninjutsu, taijutsu, and weapons," Yukiko said, ticking the disciplines off on her fingers. "Meanwhile Sakura has the control and raw intelligence to do almost any kind of specialist work, assuming she can find a willing teacher. And they're all pretty good at thinking around corners. I wouldn't assign them to infiltration -- none of them are remotely subtle -- but that sounds like a hell of a tactical strike team to me."

In the yard, Naruto hand-walked into a tree and crashed sideways to the ground. Sakura promptly tagged him, then fell over herself, unable to hold her balance on a single hand. Shinnin was facing the wrong way to see them; in her hurry to turn and figure out what had happened, her skirt slipped from between her knees, fell inside-out over her face, and left her effectively blind and helpless.

Iruka raised his eyebrows. "You were saying?"

"Well, in a few years," Yukiko allowed. "They're already better than I was at their age, and I think I turned out all right. Oh! Which reminds me." She let her chair thump back onto all four legs and propped her elbows on the picnic table she'd installed two years ago at tenant request.

"I've been wondering about this for a while, and maybe you can give me an answer. Why doesn't the academy have a catch-up class for civilians? The basic curriculum isn't designed to help kids pick an area of specialization, and most jounin-sensei don't pick up that slack, so unless they get a jounin-sensei whose skills are in exactly the right field, and who cares enough to invest time in training them -- which I did, and I've always been grateful for that -- civilian kids are nearly guaranteed never to make chuunin."

She gestured toward the three kids in her yard, who had apparently given up on tag and were now practicing handsprings. "That seems wasteful. I mean, look how hard they're working, and what they could be with a little help. So why is the system set up to deny them that opportunity?"

Iruka leaned back against the sun-warmed wall of the apartment building and folded his arms. "You're not the first to ask me that," he said with a pensive expression. "Officially, the answer is that the academy treats all students the same. Students who don't work beyond the basic curriculum on their own lack the necessary ambition to be chuunin, which is why they're never promoted. Unofficially, of course clan children have an advantage. They work beyond the curriculum because their parents have the knowledge and motivation to give them supplemental training, not because they're inherently better than civilian children. Even more unofficially, Konoha needs a pool of unpromoted genin to manage the long-term and low-skill missions that stabilize our income, and civilian parents -- or parents who are also unpromoted genin -- are much less likely than shinobi parents to object if their children end up in that pool."

He rubbed a hand over his scar and added, "I can give those parents a list of training exercises, and suggest some chuunin or jounin who might be willing to give a few introductory lessons in specialized skills, but I don't have time to give every child the personal attention they'd need to stand level with their clan-raised classmates. Neither do the other teachers. And it would be unethical for me to play favorites."

Yukiko let her head thump down onto the table and curled her arms inward to shelter her face. "I thought that might be it. Ugh. Remind me again why ninja villages are a good idea?"

"Because otherwise we'd have anarchy," Iruka said promptly. "Also this way civilians and people outside the main branches of the clans have a chance at breaking through, and we can teach everyone that ninja need to work together and retain some humanity instead of being solitary and emotionless tools of their clans or employers. It's nowhere near perfect, but it's a start."

"Right," Yukiko said into her jacket sleeves.

Iruka tapped his foot against the leg of her chair. "It's unethical for me to play favorites, but you're not responsible for all my students. You're already providing a training space, some basic taijutsu tips, and stealth practice when they try to sneak into your office. If you want to do more..." He trailed off into meaningful silence.

Yukiko knocked her head lightly against the table. "Whoever taught you how to apply guilt trips should be terminated with extreme prejudice. Or possibly promoted. Something, anyway. You do realize that I have no teaching background whatsoever, they're not anywhere near ready for genjutsu yet, and it's hard to teach ninjutsu when you can't demonstrate any of the techniques, right?"

"I'm sure it's very difficult," Iruka said, amusement leaking through his attempt to sound sympathetic. "I suggest you learn from Naruto and think around corners."

"I hate you," Yukiko said without heat. She raised her head and glanced at the yard to make sure the kids hadn't fallen into a trap or otherwise gotten themselves into trouble. They seemed to be hanging by their knees from tree branches and throwing leaves at each other -- not the safest game imaginable, but they weren't up too high and they weren't using live weapons, so whatever. She sighed.

"Okay, fine. I'll do what I can on the ninjutsu front," she told Iruka as she stood and began to gather the remnants of their lunch. "But you have to look over all my plans and give me advice--"

"I told you, I can't play--"

"--and when you've made sure I'm not going to screw the kids up forever, you can hand those plans out to any other concerned parents. Even civilians. They'll work for civilians, because otherwise I won't be able to follow them myself," Yukiko finished. "It won't be much, but like you said, it's a start."

"Fair point," Iruka said after a moment. Then he smiled, picked up a stack of empty rice bowls, and opened the building door with his free hand. "But first, let me help you clean up."

I completely understand as I am a teacher, and I am continuously aware of how I am currently educating the new generation of shakers and movers.

This was a fantastic fic (and I'm so glad it was able to double as a fill for your Bingo). I love how you examine the everyday structure of Konoha's society, how it works, and the flaws involved in the system. It makes your stories come alive in a way that many don't.

You can just tell how much love Yukiko and Iruka have for Naruto, Shinnin, and Sakura (and Iruka for all of his students).

Thanks! One thing I really love about Yukiko is that because she's both part of the ninja system and an outsider to it (civilian background, and a viable civilian career), she sometimes looks at Kishimoto's worldbuilding and says, "Hey, wait a minute..." The funny thing is that sometimes the worldbuilding elements in question are ones that I never particularly noticed as a reader until I had to write them from Yukiko's POV, at which point I realized they were kind of weird and/or had awkward implications. It's always neat when a character takes on that kind of life.

Yukiko likes to think she's a cynical grump, but she's really kind of a marshmallow. *wry* Iruka just genuinely likes people in general, I think, and these three kids in particular, though he does try to be evenhanded toward all his students so as not to abuse his position.

If you're willing (and can without spoilers), I would love a future fic showing Naruto, Shinnin, and Sakura working together as a team while on a mission.

Er. Slight technical difficulty: despite this being an AU, Naruto and Sakura still end up in Team 7 with Sasuke, because of Reasons. Shinnin is in a different team with two OCs, one of whom has been glancingly mentioned (Zenryou Haruka, Sakura's chief tormentor) and one of whom has yet to appear anywhere on-page (Arisawa Tora). Are you okay with a fic about the two teams on a joint genin mission?

(I am not going further into the future than that, partly because I do want to hang on to the option of writing a third novel at some point, partly because I haven't worked out the AU changes that far, and partly because I am still not entirely sure how I'm going to resolve the giant clusterfuck at the climax of "Guardian" and that really NEEDS to be resolved before I can write anything in-depth closer to the canon timeframe.)

Ahh! Spoilers! ;) No worries. I would love to see a story with the two genin teams working together. I enjoy any and all fic from this AU, and it always makes me happy that you're willing to write more side stories from it, especially ones based on my prompts.

Oh, and potential third novel based on this universe?!? Yay! :D I look forward to reading it sometime in the future once "Guardian" is finished.

Spoilers for a thing that happens to Naga between "Guardian" and the start of canon. :D

-----

"This can only end in tears," Naga said quietly to Kakashi while their respective genin trios stared warily at each other and the stretch of mud and marsh that had been a road and wheat field until the huge storm two days ago. "Tears and snot and blood."

"I find your pessimism groundless and hurtful," Kakashi said in a wounded tone. "One of your cute little genin has been best friends with two of my cute little genin since they were so tiny they might as well not have existed!"

"True. Know what's also true?" Naga leaned back against the trunk of their observation tree and ticked off points on her fingers: "Shinnin and Sasuke are sworn rivals. Haruka bullied Sakura for years. Naruto wants to make Tora like him when Tora just wants to be left alone. Plus Shinnin's finally learning to work with Haruka -- bets on whether Sakura and Naruto take that well?" She waved through the leaves toward the increasingly tense standoff beneath them. "Like I said, tears and blood."

Kakashi tucked away his copy of Icha Icha Paradise with a thoughtful hum. "You may have a point. Kids this age are a stew of confused emotions and unjustified egotism. Clearly we can't train them out of that in a single afternoon, so as responsible teachers, we'll just have to make sure they direct their aggression toward a single target."

Naga eyed him suspiciously. Kakashi was never this helpful without a catch, and delaying the start of their joint culvert-repair mission by stealing her paperwork was unlikely to be the last chaos he caused today. "Right. Sure. That target being?"

Kakashi closed his one visible eye in an exaggerated wink. "Us, of course!" he said, and leapt down from the tree to a chorus of outraged shouts.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

will write for food...

Kiss the Bride

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Under Pressure

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An Unorthodox Pedagogical Approach