Past Times, Other Worlds

[Past Times] [Naruto: Shikamaru/Temari AU] "In The Library During A Storm"

wordynessie — Mon, 12 Jan 2009 22:37:28 GMT

Title: In The Library During A Storm
Author: nessiegg
Theme: Scholar
Fandom: Naruto
Pairing: Shikamaru x Temari
Rating: K
Warning: Disjointed writing :P
Summary: Oxford graduate Shikamaru Nara travels to Paris on behalf of his family and encounters a curious woman in his host's house.

It had not been a long voyage, due to benign weather. The sea, so smooth and green, had made Shikamara Nara briefly recall the glass wine bottles Ino used to bring him whenever he had been sick in childhood. Each bottle, helpfully emptied of their contents by her father, had always contained the brightest arrangement of flowers. He had repaid her girlhood kindness by paying for the flower display in her wedding to that dog trainer husband of hers. The two made a handsome pair, Shikamaru concluded, if an aggressive one.

It struck him as odd that he was already thinking of his friends, having left them only two days before. It was, perhaps, the chronic nostalgia that plagued all businessmen – or maybe just bachelors. Ino had harbored overexcitable affection for him from puberty until he had gone away to school. By the time he had returned, her unrequited feelings were a distant memory to the Yamanaka daughter, and every word she spoke from then on had to do (either in admiration or in anger) with Kiba Inuzuka. Chouji had confirmed their mutual friend's care for the man as anything but fleeting, although the jovial vegetable farmer had made the report with the slightest touch of loss. Shikamaru had long suspected Chouji's feelings toward Ino, but he had never heard any voiced thoughts of the matter, and Chouji's negativity dissipated almost at once.

But all of this reflection was completely irrelevant to Shikamaru's purpose in Calais, France. He had not traveled across the Channel just so he could dissect the relationship between the people who comprised the majority of his childhood memories. Shikamaru had come to fulfill the task given him by his father, the one reason he had ever attended Oxford: to conduct business for the success of the Nara family's deer enterprise.

The docks in Calais were downright dodgy compared to those in Dover. Shikamaru found himself reviewing guidelines for warding off pickpockets. He carried no weapon, but he mentally invented various methods of utilizing the suitcase in his hand to fell ne'er-do-wells.

Progressing away from the docks, he contemplated stopping for a drink at an adjacent tavern, only to dismiss the idea as a health hazard. The cut of his clothes was too fine for anyone with even a pinch of dissolvable sedative to resist. Instead, he waited close to the entrance for an undecorated black carriage with its lanterns lit in spite of the bright day to draw up.

“Monsieur Nara?” guessed the cloaked driver with the reigns in one hand, hat in the other.

In return, Shikamaru asked, “Baki?”

A wide grin split his face. “The House de Sands awaits you, sir.” He descended from his perch to take Shikamaru's luggage and hold the door open for the English guest.

The ride to Paris from Calais was not terribly long, or so the driver assured him. Even so, Shikamaru found the bumpy road aggravating and entertained himself by examining every puffed cloud visible through the windows of the carriage. French countryside, he noted, was not very dissimilar to English. Both boasted overgrown grasses and miles of fencing, as well as animals with a talent for chewing their days away. So far, he was not impressed.

“Your first time to Paris, monsieur?” called Baki from the front. His passenger answered in the affirmative. “You are in for a treat! The Sands family's hospitality remains unsurpassed – some days even by the Tuilleries.”

“I am no guest of Bonaparte,” Shikamaru told him tightly, recognizing the declaration as a loyal one to Baki's employer. Even though his father was the cousin of a marquis or some such aristocrat, the Naras bore no standing with the French government and certainly would be unheard of in Josephine's salons. That they were doing any business at all with the French was much to the chagrin of Shikamaru's father, but it was a necessary endeavor for the family's finances as the market for deer in England was presently less than preferable.

“I am told Monsieurs Kankurou and Gaara are fairly taciturn in their dealings,” he commented to the driver.

“Gaara, yes,” Baki affirmed. “He will often leave contracts up to his brother. Kankurou shall bear plenty involvement in your business. It is Gaara that has a taste for deer meat, however.”

Asked Shikamaru in what he hoped was an appropriately detached tone, “Are neither of them married?”

Baki replied in just as polite a tone, “The two are devoted to the care of their older sister.”

So uninformative a statement piqued Shikamaru's momentary curiosity. “I was not aware they had a sister.”

“They did not tell you?”

“Well, I suppose they are under no obligation to mention the detail.”

“But you will be staying in the house for the next month?”

“Yes.” Shikamaru rubbed the back of his neck, the spiky tail of hair there brushing his hand. Something about the hesitation in Baki's voice unsettled him. “It is their prerogative to refrain—”

“Monsieur, I have served the de Sands family longer than both Kankurou and Gaara have lived. Their late father, though a private man, would not have expected them to withhold a...potentiality for discomfort in his home which his guests ought to know of. Particularly if their stay is extensive.”

Shikamaru wished he had rode alongside Baki, if only to watch the man's face while he spoke. From the belly of the carriage, he could only watch trees as they passed or the ribbon of road beneath the wheels. If he craned his neck, he could glimpse horses' hooves. “What potentiality for discomfort?”

He had already figured out that the driver's words had to do with the sister. If she was ugly, he could assure Baki that he had known only too many unattractive women in London life. If she was a spinster, that was also prepared for that. He recalled several visits from an aunt whose yearly tours to her family's homes had been a blight on his mother's summer.

“My dear Monsieur Nara, Temari Sands is, by all accounts, insane.”

---

“Monsieur Nara!” Kankurou Sands rose from a velveteen settee, hands spread wide in greeting when Shikamaru was shown to the study where both gentlemen of the house were conferring. “How do you do? I trust your time with Baki was well endured?”

Shikamaru felt the phantom of his father's elbow in his ribs and cultivated a pleasant smile upon his lips. “It was educational, monsieur. It is very gracious of you invite me into your home.”

“Ah, none of that.” A fringe of brown hair flopped over Kankurou's forehead as he nodded acknowledgement of the gratitude. “This house is so large that a great many of the rooms are closed off. We could never hope to fill it.”

The Nara had noticed. The Hotel de Sands was a four-winged affair, with molded ceilings and a series of gardens in the center courtyard.

“This surly young man I reluctantly introduce as my brother, Gaara.”

Gaara was the shorter of the two but decidedly more shrewd-looking. The thick red hair and rather shaded eyes set obvious differences in the family. They only resembled each other in miniscule ways; the shape of their ears and the way they both held themselves.

“Your French is flawless,” said Gaara. There was nothing in his words to suggest rudeness, although what little variety of tone he used revealed his surprise.

Shikamaru contemplated describing the challenging curriculum of the language at Oxford but soon decided the topic would not interest his hosts. He settled on a simple thank-you. “Do you wish to begin discussing—”

“No, no,” Kankurous declined. “You'll be taken to your rooms, and dinner is at six. Have a turn in the gardens, if you wish. Our library also holds a vast selection. Any of the servants would be happy to bring you a title – in French or English.”

Shikamaru bowed before following a middle-aged maid to the set of rooms where his luggage had been left. In the sitting room adjoining the bedroom, he helped himself to some pre-dinner brandy and surveyed a few of the documents he had brought with him from England. Every scrap of furnishing from the rug on the floor to the posts of his bed was, to Shikamaru's slight distaste, stalwartly French. He thought of his mother's painted tea set and burned with a yearning for good, warm tea.

He remained in his rooms until dinner, having caught the scent of impending rain before entering the manor and saving a garden viewing for another day. On the way to the dining room, he paused several times to note that the house contained a collection of works from choice artists. Apparently the family busied their wealthy lives with aesthetics in addition to business.

Nara was bored by both but had been raised to understand the advantages and lacks of them. His mother had wanted a son who could recite Shakespeare and draw the finest details of her rural home. His father had desired someone to take care of the business aspect of the deer he raised and realized that he would not have to pay his own child. Shikaku Nara was satisfied with his son's mind. He had fulfilled far less of his mother's desires.

Although, as of late, both of his parents had been loitering around the disconcerting subject of marriage now that Ino was wed.

Shikamaru ignored the idea, reminding himself that he was outside of his parents' plotting range and managing his own affairs as an Oxford graduate. And truth be told, he would sooner lock himself in the Bastille than marry anytime soon.

Immaculate linen draped the ten-person table in the Hotel de Sands, which was laden with fine china plates, crystal goblets, and silver that sparkled from the efforts of a devoted house staff. Seated there, he found the brothers and no one else.

“I had hoped to introduce you to our sister,” said Kankurou. Shikamaru began to lower himself into a cushioned chair, only to shoot into a ready stance when a keening cry arrowed into the room from above. The timing seemed almost rehearsed.

“Temari,” Gaara said by way of terse explanation, “is not feeling well this evening.” He flicked a hand at a maid standing against the wall, and she hurried from the room in obedience.

“I hope she's not in much pain.” Shikamaru successfully and uneasily sat.

Kankurou shook his head as a butler filled Shikamaru's glass with burgundy. “Not much. She suffers from regular nightmares and is prone to tearing at her body in her sleep; at her worst in the spring, I regret to say. Gaara and I are often forced to station someone in her room at night for fear that she will harm herself.”

It sounded dreadful, but Shikamaru doubted Baki would have called the woman insane if she was only the victim of nightmares. Still, it wasn't his place to further the topic and was relieved when the brothers asked after his journey and hobbies. Dinner went uninterrupted from then on, although Shikamaru noted the strange glances directed at him when he told his hosts that he enjoyed cloud-viewing.

---

Kankurou met with him early the next morning. Shikamaru would have preferred to meet him later – he had a personal affinity for sleeping in – but he was pleased with the older brother's interest in the Nara family's methods of raising the deer he was selling.

He spent a large portion of the day exploring the nearby streets, including a lengthy walk along the Seine. It was a gray day, one that was too lazy even to rain, and the kind that called for napping, but Shikamaru resolved to see enough of Paris to tell Kiba how extraordinary it was, as a favor to Ino, who longed to travel.

By the time he returned to the manor at sundown, Shikamaru had drawn several conclusions: the Arc de Triomphe would be better positioned on the other side of the city, the guillotine was a ridiculous tool of execution, and he would have to bring Chouji a box of eclairs. He also rather hoped someone would soon do something about the awful stench that rose from the cobblestones outside.

Gaara and Kankurou were out of the house for a theatre engagement scheduled before Shikamaru's arrival. As rain again seemed only minutes away, Shikamaru contented himself with writing letters to England at the desk in his room.

At least until the open window allowed entry to a particularly zealous gust of wind that promptly snuffed out his weakening fire and extinguished all light from the room. Shikamaru fumbled until he found matches and lit a candle upon his desk. Bringing it with him, he set off through the dark passages of the Sands house to find a servant who could relight his fireplace as no tools for doing so had been left by the hearth.

The rain had manifested in a steady downpour, soon accompanied by the usual guests of thunder and lightning. Shikamaru sighed ruefully as he reached the bottom of the stairs and stood on the second floor landing. His first French storm.

To the side of the stairs, a strip of light glowed from a door left ajar. Hypothesizing the presence of a servant or two, Shikamaru meandered over and stepped just inside.

He found himself in a grand library, as confirmed by the story-high shelves positively crammed with books old and new. The smell of leather binding was almost overpowering. The array of genres would have turned his bibliophile mother green, and most came in more than two different languages. The fireplace stood as tall as him, and facing it were two armchairs.

Shikamaru saw the library was devoid of life and began to go, thinking he might borrow the book of chess tactics if he had time.

“The rain sounds like crickets. Don't you think?”

The lightly-spoken French took him by surprise. Shikamaru had been highly valued and detested by his professors at Oxford for his capacity to foresee possibilities. But as he looked over his shoulder and saw the one who spoke to him, he doubted any hint on earth could have helped him predict the woman.

She sat behind one of the chairs; not in it, as her head peeked around one of the arms. Shikamaru stared, bewildered, as she stood up. “At least,” she went on, “it's what I have imagined crickets sound like. I have never heard them.”

Her flaxen hair hung in shimmer waves to her waist. She wore a white nightgown of thick cotton, detailed in silk. It was not late in the eyes of social people, but she looked as if she were on her way to bed. “What?” managed Shikamaru. “Crickets?”

“Yes. They do not have crickets in the city, you know.”

All he knew was that he was in the presence of an unmarried woman in a dim library, with no chaperone in sight. If the de Sands brothers responded to such a predicament in any way like the English, Shikamaru would find himself thrown out of the house with no contractual agreement to speak of. Glancing toward the open door and then back to the indecently-clad woman, he saw her blue eyes glittering with question.

“Are you English?” she asked.

He nodded absently, trying to figure out how to appropriately extract himself from the situation.

“I'm French,” she supplied unhelpfully.

Shikamaru wanted to roll his eyes. “Yes, you're...” Blast, he had forgotten her name already. “The lady of the house,” he finished, inwardly congratulating himself on his diplomacy, given the circumstances.

“Temari de Sands.” Temari did not smile, but her voice held the hint of imperialism every cultured Frenchwoman inherited through some mysterious play of genetics. She dipped in a proper greeting, much of the formality lost between her swinging hair and improper clothing.

Shikamaru noted, as her hemline rose slightly, that she was barefoot. Distracting himself from the unusual sight of shoeless skin, he stepped forward and spotted the book on the chair. Like a child, he now deduced, she had been lounging on the floor, her book propped on the seat and lit by the fire. It was, now that he thought of it, a better means of seeing the words than sitting in the armchair would have been.

She returned to that position now. Shikamaru, remembering Baki's words about Temari, asked, “Where is your maid, mademoiselle?”

At that, her mouth did twitch up. “Asleep. She slumbers very adamantly. But then, she's adamant about most things.” Spreading one arm over the seat, she rested her head on the limb and dourly recited, “ 'Unbraid your hair before sleeping, wash your face before dressing, pray to God to make you well.' ”

That last confused Shikamaru. She had screamed on the night of his arrival, yes, and while she was clearly unlearned in matters of propriety and tended to ramble, he could not see where anyone came off calling her insane.

Her eyes swiveled to meet his at an upward angle. “Do you pray, monsieur?”

Shikamaru folded his arms, but a smooth chuckle eased out of his throat before he could stop it. “I have very little to pray for, I assure you.”

“The sun in the sky, the fish in the sea, the deer in the woods—”

“Occasionally the deer,” he conceded.

“The touch,” Temari went on, turning away from the chair and facing him with knees drawn up to her chest, “of a woman?”

Face burning as red as the fire, Shikamaru took back his earlier sentiment. She was quite mad.

Her features tightened in an expression of uncertainty. “Or to be untouched by a man. I have forgotten.”

“Perhaps I ought to rouse your maid,” Shikamaru said, abruptly turning and heading for the door. Rude or not, he was sure withdrawing was the best possible course of action.

She dashed ahead of him, a quick blur of blonde hair and white nightgown. Using her body as a barricade, she whispered harshly, “Do not! It's so rare that I can read. I have been waiting for months to touch a book again.”

“Why not let you have books, mademoiselle?”

“They give me nightmares.” She shivered, clutched at her upper arms. “I expect I'll have a dreadful one tonight. My brothers will be very ashamed of me.”

“Why? What are you reading?”

She hesitated, as if afraid to remove herself, but she moved swiftly across the rug on the floor to fetch her heavy tome and beckoned he follow. Hesitatantly, Shikamaru did, and she showed him the cover.

“The Bible,” Shikamaru stated, his eyebrows darting up. “Ah...quite right, I'm sure it has inspired a nightmare or two.”

At that, Temari laughed. Shikamaru watched her face as color bloomed into the pale cheeks, astounded by the transformation of a detached woman to a good-humored lady – albeit one defying all established rules regarding time alone with a man. He was not entirely unmoved by the sight.

“You are an interesting man, monsieur,” she told him, her gaze narrowing into a mischievous grin. “To others, you must be boring.”

“I am,” he said, relaxing even as she climbed onto the seat of the armchair so that her face hung just barely above his.

Temari's eyes gleamed like marbles in the firelight. “I shan't forget it. I could use entertainment besides books. Would you take me outdoors tomorrow?”

She certainly was forward. “Your brothers—”

“My brothers would never let me walk about the streets.” Despite the restraining truth, her smile broadened. “What about a drive just outside the city? You seem the sort to be comfortable in the countryside.”

“I watch clouds,” Shikamaru blurted, unnerved by her proximity or her eyes or both.

“Good. I would like to hear crickets.”

Shikamaru, studying this slim blonde woman in her nightgown, felt a smile of his own tug at his mouth. “We will see.”

Above them, the ceiling creaked with the weight of someone leaving a room. Temari's smile fell, and the Nara son guessed it was her maid newly woken. She darted off the chair and went to replace the Bible on its prominent stand. Running for the door, she paused for a moment to turn. “Tomorrow, ask me nicely,” she said.

Shikamaru thought she expected him to do just the opposite and could not care less. “Good night.” She flew from the library, and he looked into the fire to reflect on the exchange. Mad or not, he considered as he borrowed some tools from beside the hearth to revive his own fire, there was something he could appreciate about Mademoiselle Temari Sands. Her capriciousness, her bluntness...the way she filled that nightgown.

He murdered that thought faster than a guillotine. No need to get ahead of himself. Shikamaru was sure she filled other garments just as nicely. He would find out tomorrow.

Outside, the storm was dying down.

The End

[other worlds][dominic/anemone][#40-sun god]

mm_kokopelli — Sat, 27 Sep 2008 05:45:36 GMT

Title: archaeology is overrated
Author: MM-Kokopelli
Pairing: Dominic/Anemone
Fandom: Eureka SeveN
Prompt: other worlds, #40
Word Count: 706
Disclaimer: There is no ownage. Which is sad.

please step this way and keep your hands inside the vehicle at all times

[Past Times][Bleach: Gin Ichimaru/Rangiku Matsumoto] "Follow the Leader"

green_amberjade — Sun, 07 Sep 2008 07:19:13 GMT

Title: Follow the Leader
Author: green-amberjade
Theme: Russia
Fandom: Bleach
Pairing: Gin Ichimaru x Rangiku Matsumoto
Genre: Romance, Angst.
Rating: Teen
Warning: Implied cannibalism.
Summary: She knew he would be the death of her, but she'd stayed with him anyway.

Follow the Leader

[Past Times] [Naruto: Jiraiya/Tsunade AU] "Prospecting"

wordynessie — Wed, 21 May 2008 21:12:22 GMT

Title: Prospecting
Author: NessieGG
Theme: Gold Rush
Fandom: Naruto
Pairing: Jiraiya x Tsunade
Genre: Romance, Humor.
Rating: Teen
Warning: Innuendo.
Summary: Finding stability after a twenty-year affair can be quite the search.

I think I've been very patient.

celemna — Thu, 15 May 2008 03:27:24 GMT

Title: Fire
Author: Me, XD
Fandom: Bleach
Pairing: NnoitraNell
Theme: Fire
Rating: Teen
Summary: It really did change everything, that fucking fire.
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4060967/6/
Ehem, this is long overdue. I've been updating but not posting here so...ehe? XD

theme #13 - immortal

mm_kokopelli — Mon, 28 Apr 2008 01:50:03 GMT

Title: eyes are windows (look in mine)
Author: MM-Kokopelli (That would be me.)
Pairing: Dominic/Anemone
Fandom: Eureka SeveN
Prompt: other worlds, #13 immortal
Word Count: 644
Disclaimer: I own at many things. E7 isn’t one of them. (But I’d really like Dominic. XD)

She's been a sucker for nice eyes.

[Other worlds][Eureka SeveN Dominic/Anemone][17-psychic]

mm_kokopelli — Sat, 29 Mar 2008 01:05:56 GMT

Title: seems like you could read my mind
Author: MM-Kokopelli
Pairing: Dominic/Anemone
Fandom: Eureka SeveN
Prompt: other worlds, #17 psychic
Word Count: 868
Disclaimer: I do not own Eureka SeveN.

Her back is to him.

She’s wearing the standard issue uniform, a black spandex suit that hugs her figure and covers her fingers and feet, making her one with the shadow of the old brick building—or she would be, if her hair weren’t pink. The alleyway is dark, the streetlights blocked from view. It’s better that they blend, better that they are kept within shadows.

That way, no one can see the bodies.

Her face is splattered with blood that spurted from the man in front of her, who is now a crumpled figure on the ground. Turning her head, she looks at the graffiti-ed walls through half-lidded eyes, the distinctive purple irises scanning the darkness.

“That was messy.”

She made her way towards the place where the male voice came from, stopping in front of a fire escape, cocking her head.

“What am I supposed to do, let him die slow so I don’t get blood on the street?”

A moment of silence passes, and the faint noise of cars rushing on the streets of downtown reaches their ears.

“That would be preferable.”

She shrugs, swinging her hair behind her shoulders. “Whatever, Dominic. Besides, he was a serial killer.” With a pause, she looks at the corpse behind her, which is barely recognizable as a human being, with blood coating the face and clothing. “I wanted it to hurt.”

A small thump, and she can hear him walking towards her, his steps quiet. “You have blood on your face.”

She licks her cheek absently, buffing a nail. “Yeah, yeah. Forcing a guy to relive their worst nightmares and rupturing their inner organs can do that to a girl.”

When he rolls his eyes, she can almost hear him do it. The fire escape creaks, the rusted metal straining from added weight, and she knows that he’s leaning against it, arms crossed and eyes half-closed, watching her carefully (because that’s his job, to watch her and be cautious for her and leave no signs that the two of them exist). They stand like that for a while, her watching the seemingly abandoned fire escape of an old apartment building, and him watching (out for) her.

“Can you turn visible now? Its getting really irritating talking to empty air.”

A sigh, and another figure in black slowly appears, a young man with dark hair and grey eyes. He frowns, considering his hands, watching as his left pinky regained its normal hue. Looking up, he glances at her face again and frowns. “You still have blood on you.”

She grimaces at the shadows, twisting her mouth. “It tastes gross.” Rubbing her arms, she turns to face him, hair swinging and eyes opening wider, until more than a hint of lavender is visible—now he can see the bloody stripe of scarlet that slashes across her iris.

Shoving his hands into pockets, he watches her walk forward until the two of them are scant inches apart. She takes a breath in, and lets it out with a huff.

“You had something sweet, didn’t you?”

He shrugs. “Might have.”

Glaring at him, she takes another breath, smelling the air. “And I can’t even figure it out…”

“Don’t even try it, Anemone. I’m your Handler.”

Pouting, she turns away, crossing her arms. “Yeah, yeah. You know I’m not going to read you.” She glances at the body again, takes in the damage that she’s caused. “Them, however…” Walking over, she prods the body with a single toe, and frowns when more of the crimson blood coats her foot. “Them, I can read. Isn’t that right?”

He nods quietly, and quotes softly, “Handler watches Reader, Reader spares Handler.”

They know the code. It’s how they get by, in this world of madness and mutations.

“Mmph. So where to next, eh, Dominic?” A quick sashay, and she’s standing next to him, their shoulders almost touching. He checks a small handheld device, produced from some pocket near his chest.

“We have to find the Nirvash team.”

Her grin becomes shark-like, showing teeth in a sinister smile. “Ooh. That's going to be fun.”

They start to walk towards the entrance to the sidewalk when she pauses and he frowns, not turning around, not yet. “What?”

The rustle of her uniform alerts him, and he turns his head at her while steadily fading, scanning for attackers—but all he sees is her frowning there, looking at the empty space where he…isn’t.

“…What, Anemone?” He walks towards her, his senses alert, his body barely visible.

Her eyes lock with his, and in one swift motion, she pulls him forward and kisses him—and there isn’t anything soft or tender about it, because an occupation with a one hundred percent fatality rate can do that to you, can make everything a little harsher and sharper and far more intense than it is for normal people, with normal lives and normal abilities (because whatever they may be, it is most definitely not normal).

They pull away from each other, and she frowns at him.

“You did have something sweet. Meanie.”

When they walk away together, he tosses behind a small device, and the corpse is blown to pieces.

(Rule Number One: We don’t exist.)

[Past Times] [Naruto: Asuma/Kurenai AU] "An Agreeable Arrangement"

wordynessie — Sun, 03 Feb 2008 19:05:40 GMT

Title: An Agreeable Arrangement
Author: wordynessie
Theme: Sheriff
Pairing: Sarutobi Asuma/Yuuhi Kurenai
Rating: Teen
Genre: Romance/humor(?)

It wasn't as though a mere case of vandalism was something to write home about.

"French Roast Blend" [Past Times] [Naruto: Tenten] [024 - City]

notesonlove — Sun, 13 Jan 2008 23:54:30 GMT

Title: French Roast Blend
Author:notesonlove
Prompt: Past Times ; 024 - City
Fandom: Naruto
Pairing: Hyuuga Neji x Tenten
Rating: T [PG-13]
Characters: Neji, Tenten, Shikamaru
Disclaimer: Don't own anything besides this computer.
Notes: Allusion to Starbucks coffee. I’m merely guessing that French Roast is a strong kind of coffee, because I usually have caramel-drenched stuff. :3 I was trying to aim this more on cities, but of course, it veered off onto coffee. >_> I’m sorry for butchering the culture of the coffee world, for I have limited knowledge on such topics.

Nara Shikamaru propped open an eye, loitering on the park bench. His lazy eye spotted a stranger hurrying along his way, a black pea coat covering his torso and rimmed shades covering his eyes. The man nudged his chin deeper into the crook of his scarf, pulling his hat lower over his face, one hand gripping a cup of coffee. Not many people were out so early in the morning, but Shikamaru as well as anyone knew that such precautions were necessary.

If an average passerby were to notice him, he looked a bit strange, walking so briskly so early in the morning, but normal nonetheless. However, if one, like Shikamaru himself, were to take a closer look, they would see the brand name stitched on the pocket of his jacket, the shine of dewdrops in his sleek hair, and the peculiar eyes behind those sunglasses.

He crossed his arms comfortably around his chest, turning his head up to the sky. The trees were blocking his view of the clouds, and he sighed irritably, his gaze returning to the man. He was perched almost awkwardly on a bench underneath a large oak tree, a bench closest to the southeast gate. The man’s features concentrated on the drink in front of him, rather than the newspaper. It was obvious to the Nara that he was waiting for someone.

Shikamaru smirked and decided Hyuuga Neji needed to pick a more private place to meet her. In a city where the most influential businessmen were famous icons, Neji was letting down his icy barrier rather low. And Shikamaru didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.

-----

There were not many birds besides pigeons in the city, but sometimes if he looked closely, a lost canary would float through the air, trying to find its home again, and this put Hyuuga Neji at ease, somewhat. He lifted his head up to gaze speculatively at the large oak tree across the path from his bench. Already its leaves were gone, with no shelter in its branches, nor any golden brown falling and splattering on the grass and crackling underneath his shoes.

It was the spring of last year that she had seemingly fallen out of the sky.

-----

He would have, could have, completely ignored the rustling in the branches that early morning on that warm April day. It had become a habit of his starting the warmer weather to spend his mornings in the city park, where the trees around him made a sanctuary in his head, at least for a little while, from the publicity. He began to take a liking to the old worn-in bench underneath a large oak tree and closest to the southeast gate, which would be the closest route to his work. No one bothered him, and he infinitely preferred things this way.

The rustling must have been a squirrel or something. When it got louder, he shuffled his papers and continued to ignore it.

Of course, he was shocked when there was a light shriek and a loud sound of someone falling a great distance. His eyes had fallen upon a girl, sitting on the ground with her back towards him, covered by leaves and scratches over her arms. One hand held onto the bark of the tree, and he wondered if she was hurt. Upon closer inspection, she wore frayed, loose jeans and a simple white tee, her hair bound up in two buns on both sides of her head. She looked around his age, in her twenties, which should be enough to address her as a woman. Still, those two buns made her looks so childish, and even more so by the way she held herself.

He raised an eyebrow, taking off his sunglasses to give a full copyrighted Hyuuga Glare, but of course, she didn’t see. He wondered if he should clear his throat and make her aware of his presence, but kept silent, watching with a mixture of irritation and curiosity. Standing, she patted her backside free from the debris, giving Neji a long, rather pleasant, three seconds to examine her lean frame and to put it frankly, nice rear. She twisted, lifting the back of her shirt to look at the noticeable bruise on her back. Neji tried not to wince, but it was then when she noticed him, and her eyes widened.

“Oh, sorry,” she mumbled, letting out a nervous chuckle, dropping her shirt. He could tell she was one of those awkwardly amiable people, and thus, a bother. Her brown eyes were large and her features were pretty, in an average kind of way, nothing outstanding that he had not seen everywhere before.

He could not help but ask, “What were you doing up there?”

She shrugged, stretching her arms over her head, “Nothing really.” He could see the way her shirt lifted and thinnest line of tan skin was visible. She was rather skinny.

He frowned, turning back to the newspaper in his lap, and the latest news about the Hyuuga Corporation, his company, the cup of coffee warm in his hand.

“Ne, do you mind?”

He looked up to see her gesturing to the seat next to him. He shrugged and she flashed him a disarming grin and sat down next to him. Her smile held no ulterior motives; it was the first genuine smile he saw since his father died so long ago, and it honestly, unnerved him.

Lately, everyone regarded him as a Hyuuga, it was only a polite courtesy to smile at him, because he was an influential figure, not because he did anything amusing. It made her seem less ordinary and more feminine, since the sides of her mouth seemed to form two dimples, and her eyes softened. He felt suddenly at unease, almost fidgety near this unconventional woman, and he debated whether he should just stand up and find some peace.

“Is that French Roast black?” she asked curiously, breathing in the fresh aroma.

His hand tightened over the cup and he wondered how she knew that. No one drank the kind of coffee he did, nevertheless coffee in general, and he had to walk a good handful of blocks to reach that American café.

He nodded, and she smiled, her eyes looking up to the trees in thought.

“I personally prefer their more exotic tastes,” she replied, and Neji wondered why she was starting conversation with a mere stranger. Did she recognize who he was? Not possible, she didn’t have a close enough look at him. He was ready to stand and leave when she had peered over at the headline at hand.

“Hyuuga Corporation? They’ve been running this city pretty smoothly behind the scenes, haven’t they, Neji-san?”

And he couldn’t move from his spot, and she gave him that same enchanting smile before waving goodbye and heading down the path. He watched her back, and he sighed, staring down at the picture of his corporation’s building. He pulled his sunglasses off, and a leaf dropped on his paper, a pure green and circular in shape. Oddly, it reminded him of the girl, and when he looked up, she was gone.

It was midday during his lunch break that he realized he hadn’t bothered to ask what her name was.

-----

The next time he saw her, he had been waiting at the same spot for the last week and a half, arriving half an hour earlier and leaving an hour later than usual, a small part of him hoping he would see her again. There was nothing special at all about their meeting, but he wanted to know what she meant by that comment, how she was able to have the qualifications to make such a comment, he (although he refused to believe it) wanted to know more about her.

Logically, he told himself he refused to allow her chase him away from the spot he picked first, at the bench underneath a large oak tree closest to the southeast gate.

Somehow, he found himself buying the more exotic of the coffees, deviating from the usual strong black coffee he usually had. The lady behind the counter, who used to panic when she saw him, began to swoon when he asked her more about the coffees.

It didn’t mean much, and Neji forced a wince from spreading across his face as he took a tentative drink at his espresso. It had gone cold in the weather but it was still burning the back of his throat as the liquid went down. He silently mourned the French Roast black coffee he was used to.

He heard soft padding on the gravel, and looked up in time to see her strolling down the path, accommodating to the chilly morning air by wearing a loose scarf and long sleeved sweater around her frame. A flowing prairie skirt brushed against her knees, revealing long lean legs. She held a cup of coffee in both hands. He averted his gaze back at the paper in front of him.

“Good morning, Neji-san,” she said pleasantly.

He nodded in acknowledgement, but questions were already streaming in his head. She sat down next to him, and he sipped from his coffee. It was already getting cold, and not to his liking.

“I see you’re trying something different,” she commented.

“I took your advice to heart,” he said, making sure his tones were ambiguous, but he could not help but add, “How ironic, isn’t it?”

She chuckled, amused, and sat sipping at her own coffee. He breathed in the steamy aroma, and he remarked, “Arabian blend?”

She laughed now, a high tinkly sound that pleased his ears and put him in the most comfortable environment he had been in since as long as he could remember.

She leaned back, stretching out her legs as she smiled at the oak tree she had fallen out of last time. Neji asked tentatively, “I wasn’t able to catch your name last time.” It sounded more of a question than a statement, and he cursed how uneasy he was.

“I didn’t think you wanted to be bothered by it,” she turned to look straight at him, no bitterness in her voice or in her eyes, she said quietly, “My name’s Tenten.”

Surrounded by the trees and the distant sounds of the city, his lips cracked a faint smile.

“Tenten-san.”

-----

He wondered how he could be so captivated in an ordinary woman that he would meet every now and then, when she up to it, of course. She said some mornings she couldn’t wake up early enough to come, because of her work. He asked what her work was, and she told him she was a photographer. That was why she was in the tree that first time, because she was viewing the city from a different perspective.

He thought that was rather clever and worldly of her, and he told her that, and she merely smiled and said that everyone should try it every once and a while. She knew he was head of a lower, but nonetheless very important, branch of the Hyuuga Corporation, the whole company pulled on strings mostly by himself and his uncle, Hiashi-san, but she didn’t delve much into it. They both avoided each other’s personal life.

They would speak from as little as a few minutes to as long as an hour, before he had to leave for work, or she had an obligation. They discussed coffee, politics, the trees around them, and the happenings in the city outside. Both of them seemed most at ease in the city park, underneath the shade of the big oak tree and the dew painting the grass beneath their feet so early in the morning.

Sometimes, she asked for the cartoons, which seemed completely childish to him for a capable adult to be reading, but he listened to her chuckles and couldn’t help but feel grateful there was a cartoon section in the newspaper.

And every time they parted, Neji realized he didn’t know much about her, that she seemed just as mysterious as the first day. Talking more with her only brought up new questions about her, some questions Neji didn’t even want to know the answer to.

-----

“It’s nice to see you here again, Neji,” she smiled at him, and he looked up to assess her briefly. She was wearing a long black coat and a brightly colored scarf, boots on her feet. He nodded, and she turned to take a seat to his left as usual. He flipped through his newspaper, stopping at the business section as always.

“I don’t recognize your blend today,” he remarked after a moment, a bit disappointed. It was turning into a game of sorts, and he usually guessed correctly, but he went out of his way to order different things in different combinations just to confuse her, rather than to taste it on his tongue.

She sipped at her coffee thoughtfully, and then popped the top open, glancing into the dark blend as the heat escaped in curls of steam. He turned slightly, raising an eyebrow.

“Do you want to try some? I went to a different café this time…”

He shrugged casually, and her bare hand brushed against his innocently, but Neji couldn’t help but notice how calloused and how small and how contradicting they were. He brought the cup up towards his face, fogging up his sunglasses. Irritated, he pulled them off, and took a tentative sip. In the back of his mind, a little voice told him he was indirectly kissing her.

When he returned the drink to her, she was looking intently at him. The world was full of color around him, and he noticed that her coat was actually navy and that her eyes were the same color as the coffee between them.

“You know, Neji-san, your eyes are a lot lighter in person than photographs of you.”

This comment seemed so strangely intimate, so close to his life, that he was shocked by the comment and he had nothing to say in response.

She pushed the top back on her coffee, and sipped cheerfully, leaning back on the bench.

“Do you know that man over there?” she said quietly, making no gesture towards anyone, contently sipping her coffee.

Casually, Neji looked around, only to meet the stare of Nara Shikamaru. The look on his face read, I’m not going to tell if you’re not.

Gritting his teeth, he replied, “He’s merely an acquaintance.”

She made a noise of acknowledgement, and for the first time since their first brief encounter, the air was stiff and awkward. Inside, Neji was cursing the Nara for being there.

“Are you currently seeing anyone, Neji-san?” she asked, and he stiffened, pausing to consider his answer.

“No, I am not,” he replied truthfully. Although he had always received admiring glances and gestures from women, none seemed to attract him; none showed him a genuine smile in this city, not the way she did. Honestly, he was attracted to her, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell her that.

She shrugged, and the smile was gone from her lips. He was just about to ask if she was in a relationship when Shikamaru was instantly in front of them. He smirked at the two of them, nodding his head in greeting. Neji didn’t know the lazy ass could move so fast.

“Neji-san. Tenten-san.”

His brows lifted in surprise, and he glanced at his companion. She knew him? The Naras were a respectable family, prominent architects of major buildings, and contributed much to his wing recently constructed into the Hyuuga Corporation.

The genuine smile was back on her face and she replied back, “Shika-san, it’s been a while.”

“You two seem to have a little tradition here,” he observed lightly, hands in his pockets as he slouched, “It’s rather troublesome getting up so early in the morning.”

Tenten smiled, and then she stood up. Neji was trying very hard not to glare holes into the Nara. Who did he think he was…

“Well, Neji-san and I were just going to catch some breakfast, before I head to the studio and Neji-san to his work, so I’ll catch up with you later?”

Shikamaru nodded, and they exchanged a furtive smile, before she leaned up and kissed him lightly on the cheek. Neji visibly twitched.

She looked at him, waved goodbye to Shikamaru who was heading the opposite way and they walked slowly towards the gate. Stopping by a nearby garbage, Neji dropped his half-finished coffee into the can, shoving his hands in his pockets, looking ahead.

He was brooding, but Tenten was chuckling at him amusedly, and by the time they reached the gate back into the bustling of the city, his ill-tempered mood had evaporated into the cold air. He had already eaten, but he would just have something with her and skip lunch, he decided.

“Where do you want to eat?” he asked, at lost of what to do. Tenten finished the last of her coffee, dumping it in with a flick of her wrist in a trash can and grinned, “You really want to go somewhere? I thought you were uncomfortable in the situation so…”

Neji frowned, and the look on his face made her smile grow wider, hooking arms with Neji she said, “I really wanted to try that new diner that opened up.”

He put his sunglasses back on, and opened the gate, taking one last glace at the bench underneath a large oak tree closest to the southeast gate.

Maybe, he hoped, he’ll be able to see Tenten outside of the borders of the city park more often. Besides, Tenten looked better in the sunlight than in the shadows of the city park trees.

-----

Notes: Little throwoff there. Brain freeze for a moment. Is it just me or does Shikamaru seem more evil-plotty than matchmaker? XD</div>

Terragaze: The Killing Moon 2/3 [Other worlds] Prompt 8. Assassin (Heroes, Peter/Claire)

nessataleweaver — Sun, 13 Jan 2008 12:03:36 GMT

This is STILL for prompt 8 - all three parts will be in answer to the one prompt.

TITLE: Terragaze: The Killing Moon
AUTHOR: TaleWeaver
DISCLAIMER: Any characters you recognise are not mine; they belong to their respective creators and owners. These words, however, are my own
FANDOM / PAIRING: Heroes, Claire/Peter
RATING / CONTENT: NC-17. Sex and death.
SPOILERS: None – this is so AU that Claire and Peter wouldn’t recognise themselves. Not so much Alternate Universe as Alternate Reality. Needless to say, they’re not related.
PROMPT: Written for 50_alternates, Other worlds. Prompt: Assassin, substituting for #8, Brigadoon.
SUMMARY: Exactly a month later, Claire visits the painter Isaac Mendez, who marvels at the change in his friend, and wonders what – or should that be who? – has gotten into her. Meanwhile, Peter muses on why he is looking forward to each nightfall with ever-increasing longing, and a deadly scheme is conceived in the chambers of the Guild of the Blade.
AUTHOUR’S NOTES: while I don’t pretend to any sort of historical accuracy (that’s the other table of prompts!), this is set in an alternate version of Renaissance Italy, which also affects Peter and Claire’s speech patterns – no slang here.
TRANSLATION NOTES: Maestro – Master (used here as a term of both respect and professional superiority, similar to the Japanese ‘sensei’), querida – sweetheart (spanish), mi bella – my beauty (I think, the website wasn’t completely clear), fidanzata – sweetheart (italian).
SOUNDTRACK NOTES: During the Claire & Isaac scenes, ‘I’m feeling you’ by Santana & Michelle Branch, and Peter ponders along with ‘Waiting for the night to fall’ and ‘One Caress’ by Depeche Mode. ‘Gargoyles’ & ‘Darkness descends’ by Midnight Syndicate for the Guild of the Blade scenes.

Part 2: In starlight nights I saw you

celemna — Fri, 04 Jan 2008 22:24:32 GMT

Title: Equality
Author: celemna
Fandom: Bleach
Pairing: NnoitraNell
Theme: Vampire
Rating: Teen
Summary: They both wanted to be the winner, but in the end they were doomed to equality.

Hahar :D

[Past Times] [Naruto: NejiTen AU] "Resolve"

wordynessie — Fri, 28 Dec 2007 19:35:49 GMT

Title: Resolve
Author: wordynessie
Fandom: Naruto
Pairing: NejiTen
Theme: Snow
Rating: K
Summary: Neji is intrigued by a woman at a company party and meets her again in a quite different location.

I'm not very traditional.

Terragaze: The Killing Moon part 1 [Other worlds] Prompt 8. Assassin (Heroes, Peter/Claire)

nessataleweaver — Sun, 23 Dec 2007 15:21:13 GMT

TITLE: Terragaze: The Killing Moon
AUTHOR: TaleWeaver
DISCLAIMER: Any characters you recognise are not mine; they belong to their respective creators and owners. These words, however, are my own
FANDOM / PAIRING: Heroes, Claire/Peter
RATING / CONTENT: NC-17. Sex and death.
SPOILERS: None – this is so AU that Claire and Peter wouldn’t recognise themselves. Not so much Alternate Universe as Alternate Reality. Needless to say, they’re not related.
PROMPT: Written for 50_alternates, Other worlds. Prompt: Assassin, substituting for #8, Brigadoon.
SUMMARY: As younger brother to the Doge of Terragaze, Peter of the House Petrelli has escaped numerous attempts on his life. But the lovely blonde girl standing by his bed will succeed – unless Peter can strike a new accord with her.
AUTHOUR’S NOTES: while I don’t pretend to any sort of historical accuracy (that’s the other table of prompts!), this is set in an alternate version of Renaissance Italy, which also affects Peter and Claire’s speech patterns – no slang here.
TRANSLATION NOTES: bella – beautiful, Maestro – Master (used here as a term of both respect and professional superiority, similar to the Japanese ‘sensei’), cara – dear, il mio amore – my love.
SOUNDTRACK NOTES: ‘The Killing Moon’ by Echo and the Bunnymen. When Peter and Claire reach their accord, ‘After dark’ by Tito & the Tarantulas

part 1: The sky all hung with jewels

[Past Times] [Naruto: KibaIno AU] "Worth The Aggravation"

wordynessie — Sun, 16 Dec 2007 19:12:03 GMT

Title: Worth The Aggravation
Author: wordynessie
Prompt: City
Fandom: Naruto
Pairing: Inuzuka Kiba/Yamanaka Ino, also featuring Asuma and Nara Shikamaru.
Genre: Romance/Humor/Brief action
Rating: Teen
Summary: Supermodel Ino Yamanaka comes home to New York City and is dismayed to learn that her protection has been placed in the hands of a promising cop, Kiba Inuzuka, and his dog. But the arrangement may not be so bad after all...

Ino Yamanaka was sexy, graceful, and she smelled good; three pluses in an initial evaluation. Chances were, too, that she was very professional in her work. Otherwise it would be unlikely that she was considered by all the proper authorities the top model in the country.

However, Kiba Inuzuka reflected with an air that was nearly brooding, she had the inescapable minus that she was a freaking bitch.

“Tell me again,” said the woman of the hour to Asuma Sarutobi, captain of the NYPD's investigation unit, “why I need additional security?” The upward inflection that finished her demand was executed with a slight toss of her blond head, presumably to try to cast off the chief's impressive height in comparison with her more normal stature.

Asuma took a good long drag from his cigarette, whether to alleviate a particularly bad nicotine pang or to postpone responding, Kiba could not be certain. At any rate, he was apparently not bothered by the 'no smoking' sign on the wall of the airport exit where they stood waiting for a taxi driver to finish loading Ino's rather excessive luggage into his cab. Around them, passengers-to-be and new arrivals bustled, the majority obviously annoyed by their unmoving state in the mostly mobile crowd but none directly commenting on it due to Asuma's starched uniform and gleaming badge. It was just as well – the better to distract them from the identity of his conversation partner.

At last exhaling a long trail of gray smoke, Asuma smiled, and Ino wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Because you have a bad habit of dismissing your standard guys, and your agent is sick of it.”

“And why,” she went on, shifting her perturbed gaze from Kiba to his companion, “is it necessary for that to be here?”

At the retorting growl, Inuzuka placed a soothing hand on the head of the very large, pale brown canine at his side. “I train the police dogs,” Kiba said in the beginnings of temper, “and Akamaru here is my partner.”

“Not fond of people, are you?” she queried archly. There wasn't a note of genuine interest in her voice, but cool distance in her ice blue eyes.

He showed her teeth, but the effect was more of a grimace than a grin. “Only a few.”

“Officer Inuzuka is young and promising,” interpolated Asuma with a tap to his cigarette to rid it of ash buildup. “You have a lot in common, Ino.”

“I don't like dogs.”

“That doesn't matter. Point is, you want to do some work in the city. We can't have a repeat of what happened last time or your father will kill me barehanded. So either you accept the trained professional I've assigned to your safety or you turn around and hop a jet right back to L.A.” Another smoke cloud filled the air. That and Asuma's casual tone of voice did nothing to diminish the seriousness with which he spoke. “You're an adult, Ino. Your call.”

Kiba watched the fashion supermodel fold her arms, hip cocked, frost-pink fingernails drumming. It wasn't hard to deduce that she was upset by the ultimatum. Akamaru's tail began to wag.

“Fine,” she huffed after a measure of internal debate. Her sharp gaze arrowed to Kiba. “But if you even think about taking advantage of this situation, I swear to God I'll have you fired, arrested by the guy who sits in the desk across from you, and your dog sent to the pound...all within one hour.”

Kiba bristled, several choice words coming to mind, but bit down on the inside of his cheek to maintain his cool. Starting to follow her toward the waiting taxi, he aimed a mutinous glare at Asuma.

The captain only raised a hand in farewell, beaming facetiously. “Welcome home, Ino.”

---

She didn't take kindly to the notion that she was incapable of taking care of herself. That more than anything was why she tried to get by in her working years without having to feel like a child that required constant supervision.

Ino also didn't take kindly to the way her current supervisor shoved her into the cab the second she stepped off the curb at the airport exit. She hadn't even gotten so much as a glance at the city yet; arguing with Asuma took all of her attention. Even more shocked was she when the enormous dog, Akamaru, leapt onto the back seat with her as Officer Inuzuka slid into the front.

“Excuse me,” she began, the startle she took making her voice shrill.

“He clearly won't fit in the front,” the policeman fielded immediately. “And it's not like he's gonna run beside the taxi.”

One of her hands dug into thick fur to retain as much distance between model and mutt as was possible (about four inches as a result). “Was there a reason you couldn't offer me the passenger seat?” Ino did her best to ignore the chuckle the cab driver emitted, not bothering with discretion.

Dark eyes met hers from beneath an overlong fringe of dark brown bangs. “Gotta make sure I have a good vantage point, for shooters and such. Right?”

Akamaru panted. Ino stifled a groan when a dribble of drool landed wet and warm on the back of her hand.

“Where to?” the driver finally asked, his need for humor abated.

Ino opened her mouth to reply, but Kiba beat her to the punch.

“NYPD headquarters.” This time he didn't bother to look at his charge for her reaction. He must have known it would be a mixture of agitation and surprised curiosity. “I've got something to take care of. I received a text message while I was picking up the princess here.”

The something, it turned out, was a woman with long brown hair, ripped jeans, a tube top, and a sheepish grin. She had been held at the station and, judging from her relieved expression, had been waiting for the officer.

“I'm sorry, Kiba!” she exclaimed as soon as he was in view. “How was I supposed to the know the guy didn't have spyware? Or that some of his spies were the cops?”

“As a hacker,” Kiba said in obvious aggravation, “aren't you anti-spyware? And what is this, Hana, the fourth time you've been caught?”

“The third!” exclaimed Hana Inuzuka, giving her hair an indignant flip.

Frowning, Kiba waved off the officer keeping an eye on the hacker (and did not miss that he was most likely the one to execute his arrest should Ino Yamanaka have reason to make good on her earlier threat). Ino looked on, astounded, as the scene unfolded. “We won't charge you – this time. It's not like you have any money.”

“Well, I do now. Guys pays big bucks to access the hard drive at the Pentagon.” Hana grinned broadly. “Just kidding!”

“You let people like that go?” demanded Ino. “How corrupted are you?”

“I'm not corrupt, I'm her brother.” Kiba snapped his fingers, and Akamaru was at his side. “Which might mean the same thing,” he muttered under his breath before escorting Ino out of the station, where she was getting some suspicious looks and more than a few speculating whispers.

When they made it to her building on the upper east side, Ino found herself once again squeezed between Akamaru and a hard place – namely, Kiba's chest – in the elevator. And as they were heading to the twenty-second floor, it was going to be long ride up.

Ino relaxed her shoulders in an attempt to show how indifferent she was to the state of things, yet her legs, which Akamaru's tail rhythmically thumped, remained locked.

At this proximity, Kiba, by the rapidly flaring nostrils of his dog, was able to make an amendment to an earlier observation of her. “You smell too good,” he said, sounding louder than he really was, cramped in with Akamaru, the model, and the many suitcases Ino had brought with her.

Startled, Ino jerked her head to the right in order to hook him with a “what the hell” look at the apparently random comment. As it was, she succeeded in looking only generally perturbed, as her long blond ponytail whipped the police officer in the left side of the face. “Excuse me?”

Kiba mentally affirmed that he hated hearing those words from her, and she had thus far uttered them only twice. He resisted the urge to reach up and rub at his assaulted left cheek – not because he minded her seeing the reaction but because such a maneuver would most likely result in his hand grazing her rear, and he didn't want to suffer her indignant screeching (and she probably would screech) in this lack of space between them. He preferred a slightly stinging cheek to a burst eardrum any day.

“You smell too good,” he repeated. “Or rather, you smell too much. It throws off Akamaru's nose. So you'll have to stop wearing perfume around us.”

“How good is he if he can't operate around someone wearing perfume?” Ino asked, her eyes narrowed.

“To be more specific,” continued Kiba, indulging her question, “he has trouble with closed-in areas like apartments and condos. He's bred more for street work. Your scent only makes it worse.”

There came a heavenly ding, and the elevator doors parted smoothly. Ino, hands full of suitcases, left Kiba to grab the remaining three, and proceeded down the well-lit corridor with its intricately-painted walls to a set of double doors on the north side of the building. Managing to dig out the key from the depths of her purse, she called back to him, “Well, fortunately he'll only be here during your working hours. I'm sure he'll tolerate the circumstances for that long.”

Kiba's lips grew thin. “Actually, that's not it.” He followed her into the apartment, which was truly more of a penthouse, after sending Akamaru a sympathetic glance. He told himself he was not instantly impressed by the state of the art appliances among the décor that spoke of class.

“What do you mean?” Ino had set her suitcases a few feet inside the living room given way to by the entrance, prompting Kiba to do the same. He watched Akamaru shut the doors with a front paw. His charge was barely paying him any attention now, preferring instead of focus on the gift basket that had been left on the glass and iron coffee table in front of a green, suede-covered sofa.

“I mean,” Kiba said, “that we won't be here for just working hours. This is no nine-to-five job.” Ino's eyes darted to his, twin points of blue on brown. “Akamaru and I'll be staying here, in this place, as long as you're in New York.”

“What!”

Apparently Captain Sarutobi had failed to debrief this woman on the full extent of Officer Inuzuka's assignment. Kiba could have committed murder one.

“But why? How do you expect me to...what the hell does Asuma think he's...” Kiba was relatively sure he might see her pop a blood vessel. Akamaru panted excitedly. “You don't belong here!” Ino blurted at last.

Kiba folded his arms and assessed her with an expression that suggestion simmering under the surface. “No kidding. I'm bred for street work, too.”

Yamanaka opened her mouth to no doubt snap back something witty, but her cell phone rang and she jerked the device from her purse. “What?” she seethed into the phone without bothering to check the caller's identity. “Ah, Shikamaru. I was hoping you were my dad... No, I'm planning an argument that will last for hours. You've done prosecution, what's the best way to threaten an agent with job insecurity?” She blew out an impatient breath, then ran a hand through loose strands of hair that had been freed from her ponytail. “July...damn, I have no idea what's happening in July. It sounds possible – for me, that is. Just a sec.”

She hit a button on her cell phone, then set it on the coffee table, taking a moment to pierce Kiba with a resentful glare. “Okay. July.”

“Maybe,” came a voice from the activated speaker phone. Kiba listened to the man talk with the initial suspicion he had been trained to experience. “It all depends on schedules, really. There's either this case that has to be resolved or that show that has to reach the end of its run. I'm starting to think Temari and I were never meant to get married.”

Her back was to the policeman, so Kiba could not see Ino's grin. “You could live in sin the rest of your lives. I'll still be your friend. Besides, after the press mob at Sakura's wedding, I'm not sure I'm ready for another big bash.”

“Thanks. Chouji, however, is dying to cook for this wedding, and I'd regret not giving him the opportunity. Talk to your dad – we both know you're not gonna switch agents – and get back to me about July. Then go to that Uzumaki's restaurant Chouji's at. He'd like to see you, and you'd like the food.”

“Say hi to Temari. I might come see a show while I'm here, I don't know. We'll have to see.”

“Story of your life,” Shikamaru conceded dryly before there was a dull noise and the call was terminated. Ino gave a low laugh as she went to her phone and shut the lid.

Having been on good behavior by remaining silent while she talked, Kiba now asked, “Who was that?”

“It's not any of your business,” she informed him icily, proving how adept she was at altering between moods instantaneously.

“It is because it's my job to ask. Who was on the phone, Ino?”

She glanced at him again, maybe because he hadn't said her first name yet or because his tone left little room for flippant remarks. “Shikamaru Nara, one of my oldest friends. Okay?”

“Nara,” he began, “with—”

“With Hyuuga & Nara. That's right. He and his partner, Neji Hyuuga, are the biggest firm in New York, blah, blah, blah, everyone knows.” Ino threw herself down onto the couch and crossed her legs. “And they're my representation. Fantastic, huh?”

“Great,” he agreed unenthusiastically.

“So let me get this straight.” Regarding him with an upturned chin, she said, “You and your dog are to live here in my home for the duration of my stay in the city. Is that correct?” At his nod, she proceeded. “And you have been assigned to be my personal bodyguard for my every waking moment, inside and out?”

“Also your every sleeping moment.”

Her lip curled but her face was too pretty to be marred by it. “What, are you going to stand in the stall when I enter a public restroom?”

“I can understand why you're not thrilled with the situation. I can think of a number of cases I'd rather be a part of.” Kiba patted Akamaru's head, as though they together shared this current misfortune. “But I don't deserve this mind abuse of yours.”

“This is my life you're invading, Officer Inuzuka.”

“Call me Kiba, dammit. Because,” he went on, heatedly now, “whether you like it or not, I've been given the task to protect you as long as you are within city limits. I will stay with you, I will guard you, I will even follow you on dates – I suggest you don't go on any, by the way – because those are my orders. Trust me, I'm starting to get a lot more upset about you than this. But you agreed to the deal, and now I call the shots. So deal with it.”

Ino's lips parted.

“And you will call my dog 'Akamaru.' Got it?”

She was fuming, he knew, without the signs of a woman who had been brought to a boil – but fuming all the same.

At last, Ino found the calm to reply, “Fine. Kiba. Do me a favor and put those suitcases in the first bedroom down the hall to the left. You can have the one to the right. Akamaru may sleep out here. And for Christ's sake, if he makes a mess, you will be paying for new carpeting or whatever else.”

“He's very well-trained,” Kiba assured her with forced placidity. “And suitcases, sure.”

“Good. Now, if you don't mind...” She rose, quickly and gracefully, from the couch. “I've got jet lag and I have to be on Fifth Avenue at five o' clock in the morning. Good night.”

Kiba watched her bolt from the room, only to hear a door snap shut seconds later. With a sigh, he hefted the first round of suitcases to deposit them in her room while she was making use of the bathroom, then get the hell out of her way once he was finished.

---

Ino was having trouble sleeping, something that drove her crazy when she was in the middle of a work season. The makeup crew gave you odd looks if you came in with bags under your eyes.

She didn't know why she was so unsettled. She'd had a wonderful shoot that day, atop a skyscraper roof, posing for an ad – for perfume, incidentally. The Empire State Building had been in the alignment, emphasizing a lovely day in May. A giant fan had been blowing her hair, accentuating her naked back. It had been a topless shot, her arms folded across her front with her tanned back to the camera, which she looked at flirtatiously.

Ino had also engaged in a rousing yelling match with her father, and even though daddy knew best, it helped to heighten her energy level with the adrenaline rush and made her practically glow for the shoot. Kiba, she estimated, had watched the events with due fascination, but he also seemed to grow bored standing on the sidelines with Akamaru.

When her top came off the first time, she had looked at him in time to see his dark eyes go quite wide, and the grin she gave him was caught on camera. It was that photo, she had learned, that was going in the final ad. She didn't tell Kiba about it.

Her bed was lusciously cool, covered in satin, and still she felt like she was burning up. It was, if she was honest with herself, not unlikely that she was horny. She hadn't had sex with anyone in close to six months. But the likelihood of her wanting to sleep with that mangy – and that was precisely the word for him, Ino was certain – was practically non-existant. Even if he did have expressive eyes, a full mouth, and a spread of muscles the thin T-shirts he preferred to wear did absolutely nothing to hide.

Damn. Ino threw off the covers and let her bare legs breathe. It really was hot. Pressing a hand to her forehead, she slid to the floor with intent to get a drink of water and check the thermostat.

When she opened the door of her bedroom, waywardly thinking that Kiba slept across the hall, she let out a long scream.

There was a loud thud from the police officer's room, followed by frantic barking from the living room, and then Kiba was in the hallway with her. They were quite the pair, freaked out and poorly clad as they were; Kiba wore boxer shorts and Ino only a long nightshirt.

It was not her state of undress that caught Kiba's attention but rather the increasingly bright and growing ball of flame shivering from what appeared to be a stainless steel waste basket at the end of Ino's kitchen counter, in view from the hallway.

Kiba exclaimed a string of creative curses, dashing into action simultaneously. Akamaru lunged over, sniffed and barked, and rather than seizing the fire extinguisher right behind the refrigerator two feet away, Kiba covered the waste basket with the nearest object he could find – in this case, a vintage umbrella stand found beside the hall entrance.

Ino watched, paralyzed, until Kiba lifted the umbrella stand off of the waste basket. In the light of only a bathroom fixture that had bee left on, she saw ash and smoke fly up from the contents of the waste basket, which the now-extinguished fire had been steadily burning.

“What,” Ino began, but she had to swallow in order to ask properly. “What happened?”

Kiba took a whiff of what looked to be charred filings among blackened paper towels in the waste basket. “Zinc,” he told her curtly. “Wet zinc. Someone went to the trouble of sneaking in to hurt you indirectly.”

“Wet zinc?”

“Zinc powder. When it's wet, it ignites. Someone placed it, dry, into the trash can here, then covered it with damp paper towels – taken right from your roll, it looks like.”

She recognized the hearts and stars pattern, barely discernible in its state and this lighting. “Who was it?” Ino could speak without trembling now.

“Dunno.” Satisfied that the danger had been evaded for now, Kiba turned to her, loose bangs messy from sleep and falling in his eyes. “Got any enemies?”

“Probably only someone wanting to smoke you out.” Ino leaned against the wall to her left. “Someone doesn't like you being here.”

In spite of the current scenario, Kiba's mouth quirked. “I don't think you know enough about chemistry to do this stuff.”

“I didn't do it, of course!” she shrilled. “Besides, I...”

He kept looking, his gaze solemn now. Even Akamaru was still, studying her.

“I'm glad you were here,” Ino finished quietly, damning the unusual heat that filled her face. To lessen the tension, she added, “I would have thrown more water on it or used the fire extinguisher and made it worse.”

“Well...” Kiba made as though to put his hands in his pockets before realizing he didn't have any. A small look of embarrassment came over his own face. “I'm gonna put a call into the office, let them know about this. It's only three AM and you don't have anything on your schedule until six tonight. Why don't you go back to sleep?”

She was far too jittery to think about sleeping right now, but Ino didn't want to let him know that. Casting a look at the patiently waiting police dog, she smiled. “Does Akamaru like scrambled eggs?”

She didn't notice, of course, that this was the first time she had smiled – a real smile, not a teasing grin - in his presence, and so Kiba was affected in a way he hadn't anticipated. “Yeah. I mean, not too many, he'll be sick.”

“Okay.” Moving past him, she flipped on the kitchenette light, then went to the fridge and began pulling out an egg carton. “Hey, Kiba, why...” She paused, trying to find a way to pose the question delicately. “Why did Akamaru not pick up on the smell of the zinc? I didn't wear any perfume today.”

Kiba moved behind Ino to reach for a hanging skillet above her head, attempting to be helpful. The action brought them into such sudden propinquity that Ino nearly dropped the single egg she pulled from the carton. He angled an unidentifiable expression toward her, his lips unsettling close to her cheek.

“Guess your natural scent smells too good for him, too,” said the cop casually, with the slightest of catches in his breath when she shifted and her hip grazed his. He quickly set the skillet on the stove and secured some distance.

Ino's smiled remained. “How about it? Scrambled eggs?”

“That depends.” The mood was far lighter now. “You got ketchup?”

“Ketchup?”

“Yeah. It's real good on eggs.”

“That's—” Ino had almost said “insane” but stopped herself. “That's something I'd be willing to try,” she amended.

Kiba produced a small smile of his own before leaving the room to make his call to the station.

She was disturbed by the latest events, yes, but with Akamaru standing beside her – as though waiting for the next incident – Ino had to admit to herself that she felt much safer. And Kiba...

“By the way, Ino.” Kiba was at the mouth of the hallway. She looked back at him, loose blond hair mussed and flying about her shoulders, one hand on the heat knob of the stove. “I'm not going anywhere. Me and Akamaru, we don't get smoked out.”

Ino cracked an egg and grinned.

She had always liked adventurous guys. Maybe this one was actually worth the aggravation.

“Hey, Kiba,” she said when he returned and eggs were scrambled. “You know how I'm meeting my friends, Sasuke and Sakura, for dinner tonight?”

“Yeah.” He sat at her table. He had politely not bothered to give himself an advantage by donning any more clothes.

“You have to come with me, don't you?”

“Everywhere but the bathroom.”

Sitting herself, she placed the egg-full skilled between them and dug in with a fork. On the floor, Akamaru was lapping at a smaller plate. “Would you be my date?”

His eyes grew perceptibly wider, a comical thing, as his mouth was already full. He was, no doubt, recalling his advice that she not date while he was her security. Swallowing, he aimed a half-suspicious, half-appeased look at her glittering blue eyes.

“All right,” Kiba agreed after several moments of deliberation. “Who knows, you might be as much fun as you look in those swimsuit commercials you do.”

Ino's slapped the ketchup bottle between them. Kiba's hand came to rest there, challengingly, but also with a bit of the protectiveness he had been so reluctant to give before.

“Much more,” she declared.

She loved being home in the city.

The End

Sunshine at Midnight [Other worlds] Prompt 17 - Psychic (Heroes, Peter/Claire)

nessataleweaver — Fri, 07 Dec 2007 15:02:07 GMT

TITLE: Sunshine at midnight
AUTHOR: TaleWeaver
SERIES: Midnight Hour 1
DISCLAIMER: the characters you recognise belong to Tim Kring and NBC, and no profit was made. These words are my own. The world here is a smush of about five different vampire fandoms (especially Blade the series), with my own bits thrown in.
FANDOM / PAIRING: Heroes, Peter/Claire (platonic), Nathan
RATING / CONTENT: PG-13. Implications of off-screen paedophilia
SPOILERS: None, except for basic character backgrounds. This is AR – alternate reality.
SUMMARY: In 260 years as a Pureblood, Peter of Clan Petrelli has done some pretty outrageous things – but bringing home a small human child?
PROMPT: 50 alternates – prompt 17 psychic
SOUNDTRACK: ‘Sooner or later’ Switchfoot

Story is here

"Broken Hearts and Mending String" [Past Times] [Naruto: Tenten] [049 - Stage]

notesonlove — Mon, 26 Nov 2007 03:06:56 GMT

Title: Broken Hearts and Mending String
Author:notesonlove
Prompt: Past Times ; 049 - Stage
Fandom: Naruto
Pairing: Hyuuga Neji x Tenten
Rating: T [PG-13]
Characters: Neji, Tenten, Naruto, Shikamaru, Ino, hints of Sakura
Disclaimer: Don't own.
Notes: not my best. but I really needed to get back onto the writing craze. my fangirl for anything just died lately.

She had been loitering on a bench in the park, the sounds of Tokyo distant as night hung heavily overhead. She couldn’t see stars here. She threw her arms around the edge of the back, her fingers curling into the wood, staring intently at the sky as if there were fireworks bursting overhead. The lone waning crescent was obscured by the trees, and she lifted a hand to wipe the cut trailing from her temple. It hadn’t healed yet. It was cold out, and her breath came out in puffs of vapor, and her skin must have been full of goosebumps. Instead, she opened her mouth and sang.

It was a song by an American band that never successfully, a song she had found by accident on an indie label in the back of the CD store. It was about broken hearts and mending string, rough fingers and fabrics of silk. When her song finished and she wiped her mouth with her sleeve, she lifted her head to find a tall blonde staring widely at her, hands shoved in his pockets by the cold night air, one foot still in the air.

“…Wow,” he breathed.

“My name’s Tenten.”

“You got a last name?”

Tenten shifted her weight and looked steadily in the bored black eyes.

“I don’t got anything.”

Shikamaru dropped the hand holding his hand, hands tapping on the wood table, “None of us do either, that’s why we’re together.”

“I never agreed on singing for you guys,” Tenten said curtly.

“Our former singer quit two weeks ago,” the man in the corner said, his sharp profile visible. He wasn’t looking at her, sitting with his eyes staring out the window, hand resting on the desk. Tenten glanced up at the baritone voice, a deep rich sound that filled her ears.

The blonde rolled his eyes, “All because of Shikamaru.”

Shikamaru, the one Tenten supposed was the bored man in front of her, didn’t even flinch, “Ino’s got better things to do.”

“You broke her heart,” Tenten said quietly. Shikamaru turned his gaze to her, and replied smoothly, motioning towards the cut across her temple, “He broke yours.”

Tenten’s hand instantly shot up and she frowned. The bleeding had stopped, but there was still the noticeable red line right above her eyebrow. The knife had hurt, and when she touched it, it still did. She wondered why she was still alive.

“There’s not much risk in it,” Shikamaru continued, unfazed at Tenten’s glare, “We’ll offer you a chance at fame.”

“I don’t particularly care for glory; I’ve lived this long without it.”

“We’ll offer you a home, company, and money.”

Tenten’s hand dropped, the impassive voice in the corner offering her a deal she shouldn’t refuse. But dignity was a price she refused to sell; dignity was the reason why she had left that bastard of a man.

“Our show’s in three months.”

She learned later that only Naruto had nothing, and lived across the city with a girl named Haruno Sakura, who worked at a hospital and helped out the best she could and came by to listen and pick up Naruto. Shikamaru was still in law school, which he attended most of the week and spent his afternoons with them. Being that she was living with him for the time being, Tenten cleaned up after him and cooked the meals they ate in silence. None of them really had any time to spare, Naruto coincidently worked down the street from the CD store she was at, and had been a frequent shopper.

And Hyuuga Neji had connections to the most influential music corporation in Tokyo, such good connections he could get the easy way into the musical business. Why he was hanging around with them was beyond her comprehension, but she left it.

He was the one that handed her the guitar, a remarkable crimson thing with smooth edges and amazing sound quality. He told her offhandedly it was one of his old ones, and she could use it for now, until she invested in her own.

When she had managed to play a shaky version of an old hit song at the end of the first day, Shikamaru had said she had potential. Since she should know how to play the guitar, not the bass Shikamaru specialized in, she took lessons from Neji. He was a stern teacher, and she would play until her fingers bled, before he bandaged them quickly and told her to play again.

He had impressive talent, his fingers would strum over the strings easily and almost gracefully, his voice the sound of dark chocolate. He softly sang the melodies to her, and she would lose her train of thought as his fingers brushed against her own. His notes were the works of a genius, flowing smoothly together and harmonizing with the bass. She had woken up in the middle of the night to find Neji and Shikamaru working on the pieces with low tones, and Tenten would clear the clutter of papers and sit down, handing both of them a mug of tea.

Music became her life after that, and she spent her times at the store listening to old used CDs to find a voice to style hers. She didn’t pay attention to her surroundings until the jingle of bells and the tapping in front of her forced her to her senses and to Neji, who would accompany her to Shikamaru’s apartment.

Tenten had never seen Neji’s place, and they usually just practiced in the empty room at Shikamaru’s, despite the complaints from other tenants.

The weeks passed in a blur, the lyrics stuck in her head and echoed in her dreams, her fingers still strumming to the consistent music in her head.

There were to play at a local bar, a place Shikamaru had brought her to the week before at another show, the new band that Ino had recently joined. It smelled like cheap booze, sweat, and cigarette smoke, the crowd screaming by the stage. The music blared in her ears as the vocalist crooned, and Tenten realized that Ino was beyond average, a strong voice that hers couldn’t compare to. She could feel Neji next to her and she shrugged, downing the rest of the contents of her drink before she watched Ino’s eyes to sweep towards Shikamaru to Naruto to Neji and finally to her.

At the intermission, she had thrown her arms around Shikamaru, took a swig of his beer, and kissed him on the cheek, but the way her hands gripped too tightly proved she was still in love with him. Tenten attempted to smile when Ino’s attentions instantly averted towards her, as she looked her up and down like a tiger would to prey and Shikamaru breathed Ino’s name in warning.

Ino waved it off, offering fake words of luck, and Tenten had accepted them justly so. She had watched Ino pluck the cigarette from Shikamaru’s mouth, putting it out under one heeled foot, and chiding at him for still smoking those cancer sticks.

Later, Neji had let her stay over at his place since Ino was going back to Shikamaru. It was the first time she had been in his house, a large apartment with neat lines and clean countertops. There were no paintings or decorations, only a simple black couch, a modern kitchen, and one bedroom overlooking the city.

He had placed a mug of tea in front on her the way she used to when he pulled an all-nighter with Shikamaru and sat next to her on the couch, both not speaking. Her eyes trained at a cup left on the coffee table from that morning, and she sipped quietly.

Tenten began humming, a habit she took up to help memorize the line-up, and Neji had spoken words of awkward reassurance, and she had let him to touch her and pull her into his arms in the same hands that played the guitar hanging by the door. Then he leaned in and kissed her artlessly, and she kissed him back.

When the sweat was drying from their backs entangled in the sheets and her fingers strummed the notes on his chest, his lips had brushed across the scar across her temple and she could feel her heart burst.

She had straightened the hem of her skirt, the incessant tapping of Naruto’s drumsticks by his side matching the furious beating of her heart. The crowd was larger than she expected, Ino must have spread the word. Shikamaru had taken it as a good thing, saying that Ino didn’t know what was coming, and this would just backfire into her face. She could feel Neji’s hand touch her waist and she tilted her head to smile, before there was the screaming of fans and Naruto walked onto stage first, the shrillness of voices just steadily increasing until Tenten had walked onto stage, nodded towards Shikamaru, and introduced their first song.

The noise had died down significantly as Naruto drummed out the rhythm and Tenten had closed her eyes and pretended she was back in the apartment, with Neji tuning his guitar and Shikamaru lounging on the couch until they started and then she was singing the words etched in her mind, about broken hearts and mending string, rough fingers and fabrics of silk. The stage seemed to vibrate beneath her as the crowd caught onto the lyrics and sang along, and she stared into the bright lights and took breathless gulps of air and when her voice died down, the cheering lifted her heart and gave her a sense of belonging.

She belonged here, on the stage, with the speakers blaring into her ears, the smell of cigarette and alcohol, the screaming of people below her, and with Neji by her side.

</div>

[Past Times] [Naruto: NaruHina AU] "Pure Genius"

wordynessie — Sun, 25 Nov 2007 19:42:42 GMT

Title: Pure Genius
Author: NessieGG
Theme: Sea
Fandom: Naruto
Pairing: Naruto x Hinata
Genre: Romance, Humor.
Rating: Kid
Warning: None.
Summary: A daily subway idea becomes the highlight of the day for Hinata Hyuuga, interior designer, when she meets an ambitious chef, Naruto Uzumaki. He is everything she isn't, and she is everything he wants.

Hinata Hyuuga didn't like to complain.

032: Snow

silhouettedwing — Thu, 15 Nov 2007 16:17:34 GMT

Title: Of Pure White
Theme: 032; Snow
Fandom: Twilight
Pairing: Edward/Bella
Rating: G
Warning: Vampire Knight-esque. Because I had no inspiration.
Summary: White. Anything that isn't red.

( Cut )

[Past Times] [Naruto: NejiTen AU] "Tainted Ways"

wordynessie — Sun, 28 Oct 2007 22:41:32 GMT

Title: Tainted Ways
Theme: Hunter
Fandom: Naruto
Pairing: Neji x Tenten
Rating: Teen
Warning: Minor language, some suggestive content.
Summary: Former LAPD cop Neji Hyuuga and his old partner Tenten Long must work together to solve the very case that tore them apart. A fiery romance gone cold threatens their work, however, because neither one can get over the other.

2-Parter: Old Partners; New Lovers

[Past Times] [Uryuu/Cirucci] Musings of the Muse

green_amberjade — Sat, 20 Oct 2007 19:19:27 GMT

Title: Musings of the Muse
Author: green_amberjade
Prompt: 43. Music
Fandom: Bleach
Pairing: Uryuu Ishida/Cirucci Thunderwitch
Summary: For twenty years he lived in a hell of her making.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Suicide, some cussing on the part of Cirucci.

You know me Quincy, I would much rather die and forever be your muse, than live one more day as your wife.

[Past Times] [Naruto: NejiTen] "Venus or Themis"

wordynessie — Sun, 14 Oct 2007 16:11:06 GMT

Title: Venus or Themis
Author: NessieGG
Prompt: Gun
Fandom: Naruto
Pairing: Neji/Tenten
Warnings: Cursing here and there, adult situations, fast relationship.
Notes: 6 parts. Complete.

There was something to be said for a man who could turn a courtroom into a stage

Enjoy!

[Past Times] [Naruto: SasuSaku] "Young and Brilliant"

wordynessie — Sat, 01 Sep 2007 21:47:36 GMT

Title: Young and Brilliant
Author: NessieGG
Prompt: Plague
Fandom: Naruto
Pairing: Sasuke/Sakura
Warnings: Minor language.

Sasuke Uchiha knew he shouldn't have taken the night off.

[Past Times - Colonial] [Naruto: KibaIno] "Of Bedsides and Bullets"

wordynessie — Sat, 18 Aug 2007 22:36:32 GMT

Title: Of Bedsides and Bullets
Author: NessieGG
Theme: Colonial
Fandom: Naruto
Pairing: Kiba x Ino
Rating: K+
Word Count: 4,448

I am a woman who knows of true and false.

[Past Times - Nomad] [Naruto: NejiTen] "Getting Gone"

wordynessie — Mon, 13 Aug 2007 02:57:59 GMT

Title: Getting Gone
Author: NessieGG
Prompt: Nomad
Fandom: Naruto
Pairing: NejiTen
Rating: Teen for sex, language, and drug use.
Notes: Hippies!

(Neji was sure that being disowned was the best thing to ever happen to him.)

Insane Journal

joereaves — Mon, 06 Aug 2007 20:45:05 GMT

I'm setting this community up on Insane Journal as well. You do not have to do anything with that if you don't want to. I won't be posting the fics already posted here over there, but the authors of those fics are welcome to join that comm and post there as well as here. You can just go on as you are, start posting at both places, or move your claim over there exclusively, it's your choice.

If you want to post both places claim over there with an IJ and tell me that you're already approved. You can consider yourself pre-approved over there if you're already here :) If you want to move their exclusively then claim there and comment to the dropped claim post here just so I know.

I don't like the way LiveJournal keep seeming to change their TOS without telling anyone and their guidelines are awfully vague about what is and isn't allowed. They're getting awfully eager to ban people without any appeal too, so although I'm still posting all my stuff to LJ (with all my challenges I kind of have to) I now consider IJ my permanent home.

I'm joereaves over on Insane Journal as well as here so you can find me easily enough. And the comm is here