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Title: Chasing Starlight
Rating: G
WC: 771

Summary: Sakura copes with being left behind.

Notes: Several years ago, I was going to write a Sakura-centric fic about what happened to her during the time skip, and I started this story. It would have involved her adventures talking to comatose Jiro, and then one day he'd wake up and sort of mentor her (along with Tsunade). Then I fell into other fandoms. When I might have come back to it, TW happened to me sooooo.

I could have sworn that I posted it, but nope. I didn't, so here you go.

Read more... )


Jan. 11th, 2017 04:12 am
malapropian: (ampersand)
Ha, so I haven't talked here in forever. And I've been sort of ignoring the Naruto fandom while I licked my wounds over my ex partner cheating on me with a cosplayer of some notoriety. (And even though my ex is aware of this journal, I hope that they've got better things to do than read my personal shit.)

Then I tumbled into MCU and Hobbit and finally Teen Wolf in 2014... where I wrote almost 170k over the last two years. Who knew I had that in me? Definitely not me.

So over the last few years, I've written a lot, made friends, lost friends, started drama, moved houses, and gotten engaged to someone wonderful. (And I'm working on some personal things like changing my name and presenting as male, so there's that.)

It was sort of on a lark that I decided to finally post what I had of that old kakasaku apocafic. When I checked out the old comms, there hadn't been activity in forever. But I should have had faith. :P When I looked today, there were posts! It's a shame that I'm too late to do the LFS challenge, but ah well.

Hmm. I guess in a few minutes, I'll crosspost my Naruto fics here... for no one to find because who the fuck uses DW anymore?

I'm alive!

Nov. 19th, 2014 04:08 am
malapropian: (Default)
And somehow I have rediscovered some love for Naruto.

I've been writing a lot of Steter (teen wolf tv), but they're all WIPs... but so are my Naruto fics?



This is the important part. I did some writing on the Kakasaku Apocalypse AU! I know. I'm talking crazy, but it happened. I won't promise it'll be finished soon, but I've been writing this maybe 2k story for 3 years. It's not like a few months will make much of a difference.
I managed about 1000 more words on the apocalypse au while listening to The Jezabels. Go me? I wonder how much of it will even be usable once I've slept and can look at it with a mostly neutral eye... (not enough of it). Looks like insomnia is good for something, at last.

Somehow I wrote a second ending to it, when I've known for months that it was going to end a particular way... now I'm not sure if I should pick one or include both. I suspect that the story will have about another 2000 words before I'm done (making it around 6k), but I could be completely wrong. I could even have a third ending by then (dear hell, I hope not).

I suspect, that one of the themes has shifted out of focus with the latest addition. I'm not sure it's entirely a bad thing, but I swear that I'm never starting another story after watching The Road. Never again. I just can't do this bleak apocalypse thing with the grimdark future. (Okay, that's a lie. I love grimdark, but I still like a happy ending).

Someone please stop me from thinking about Shisui/Hinata au or otherwise. The faint beginnings of a plot are trying to come together in the back of my head, and I don't even need that a little bit. Anything I'd write would be worthless because it would have too much in common with "Some Words on Memory" or "Spectator". Self, stop reading things that are similar to what you want to write. It's terrible for your creative process (and your self-esteem).

Also, Self. Please stop abusing the parenthetical statements.
Ugh. Well. The air conditioner works again. You have no idea how wonderful that is. This summer has been terrible - full of rain and disgusting heat. Cooking in my house no longer makes me want to cry. I don't live in a sweat lodge anymore! Best. Thing. Ever.

I've been trying to find out if my external drive is completely dead, or if I can still pull the files from it. :/ Hopefully, I will not lose everything on it. Some of it is (stupidly on my part) irreplaceable. Yeah, yeah. I know I should have made a backup. Seriously though. It was hundreds of gigs. I needed another external drive, and that was money I still don't have.

-_- <-- That's my face about the whole ordeal.

Sadly, I lost the notes and scenes I'd written for the 'Sakura talks to coma patients to work out her problems and feel better about life' thing. My End of the World story (8 months late) is chugging along painfully. While I did have it on a cloud, it's not the latest version... I'm tempted to just edit the thing to vaguely flow together and throw it online. I'm that tired of looking at it. Several key scenes have failed to take shape, and I'm pretty frustrated. It'd be nice to have someone to look it over, but I don't have that type of (Naruto) fandom friends anymore. Okay, I might, but it would feel like an imposition. Most of them read a lot of godlike!Naruto and crack!adventure stories, so... I don't think they're the kind of audience that would give me valuable feedback.

I've been playing too many video games. Send help.

Dear Brain,

Feb. 7th, 2013 11:41 pm
malapropian: from Wonder Falls (cow of pain)
The time to think of all the stories you could write based on music isn't now. Unless it happens to be the song from the challenge you've signed up for.

Stop listening to songs and being perversely inspired by them instead of the song you received.

If you don't have something resembling a story (or part of one) written in the next few days, then you'll need to hope for good luck on your re-draw.

No love,
Your flaky attention span
I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to think of anything for my song lyric prompt, but I've had a few inklings. Soon I'll try to put some of it down on paper. Ugh.

In the mean time, there's always more depressing poetry that I didn't write.

For My Lover, Returning To His Wife
by Anne Sexton

She is all there.
She was melted carefully down for you
and cast up from your childhood,
cast up from your one hundred favorite aggies.

She has always been there, my darling.
She is, in fact, exquisite.
Fireworks in the dull middle of February
and as real as a cast-iron pot.

Let's face it, I have been momentary.
A luxury. A bright red sloop in the harbor.
My hair rising like smoke from the car window.
Littleneck clams out of season.

She is more than that. She is your have to have,
has grown you your practical your tropical growth.
This is not an experiment. She is all harmony.
She sees to oars and oarlocks for the dinghy,

has placed wild flowers at the window at breakfast,
sat by the potter's wheel at midday,
set forth three children under the moon,
three cherubs drawn by Michelangelo,

done this with her legs spread out
in the terrible months in the chapel.
If you glance up, the children are there
like delicate balloons resting on the ceiling.

She has also carried each one down the hall
after supper, their heads privately bent,
two legs protesting, person to person,
her face flushed with a song and their little sleep.

I give you back your heart.
I give you permission --

for the fuse inside her, throbbing
angrily in the dirt, for the bitch in her
and the burying of her wound --
for the burying of her small red wound alive --

for the pale flickering flare under her ribs,
for the drunken sailor who waits in her left pulse,
for the mother's knee, for the stocking,
for the garter belt, for the call --

the curious call
when you will burrow in arms and breasts
and tug at the orange ribbon in her hair
and answer the call, the curious call.

She is so naked and singular
She is the sum of yourself and your dream.
Climb her like a monument, step after step.
She is solid.

As for me, I am a watercolor.
I wash off.
I did a bit of work on the apocalypse AU. It's still not anywhere approaching ready. :/ In the past, I was much faster at writing, but I also didn't care as much about the quality of my work. It's possible that I'm too paranoid, but the act of writing is going better than it has in several years.

Because I am afflicted with analysis paralysis, I'm pretty sure that I've changed a huge part of the premise (exploring the progression of the relationship from their sex without love and then sex without happiness and then just having sad, almost happy sex to all the sex being implied or off screen).

All of that aside, have a poem I didn't write.


Urban Love Songs (after Tzu Yeh)

You stop to watch the Mandarin ducks.
The rest of us continue on to the flamingo lagoon.
I would like to ask what attracts you to them.
But my feet keep walking, I don’t look back.

* * *
From a piece of cloth I cut out a heart.
In the Laundromat it is washed and dried.
I can spend whole hours watching it toss and tumble.
I wonder if you feel the same way as I.

* * *
I wave as you enter; you take your seat smiling.
This same coffee shop now feels crowded.
We whisper to each other:
all eyes have noticed something’s changed.

* * *
I’ve bought a new phone and an answering machine
because I know you will be calling.
Here’s the number, which only you will have.
I plan to change the tape every hour on the hour.

* * *
Our friends are laughing.
They say we sit so close in your old Buick
it has become second nature for me
to exit on the same side as you.

* * *
Pinocchio’s back!
Let’s relive that night at the drive in
when I whispered that his nose was giving me ideas
and you got into my pants for the first time.

* * *
You drop the laundry off going to work.
I bring the bag back when I come home.
Neatly folded, your underthings are left on the bed
- I wish to respect certain cabinets as yours.

* * *
You shut the window rushing to your covers
complaining of the cold night.
I need fresh air, but am willing to compromise.
Let’s just pull up the sash halfway, okay?

* * *
We hunt for photos in my parents’ storeroom.
Look how young I was and full of dreams.
On the way out you brush against a cobweb.
Your flailing arms make me afraid.

* * *
A firetruck screams through my heart.
Douse the flames! Douse the flames!
I awake to find my pillow soaked with sweat.
For a moment I thought it was my tears.

* * *
You’ve stacked your boxes neatly by the door.
I find atop one Chinese poems I had bought for us.
Quietly I take the book out.
I resolve to tell you this after you have moved.

* * *
For my clogged sink I called a plumber.
When my cat got ill I took her to the vet.
My heart is broken
- I will not ask you to come to mend me.

* * *
Last night you made me so mad.
I’ve resolved never ever to speak to you again.
I regret having to put my foot down so.
I’m sending you a telegram to let you know.

* * *
One friend I know cut her hair short.
Another shaved his beard without regrets.
I would walk this city naked and bald
if ever I thought I could be free of you.

* * *
After you, I took up jogging.
I wore through my running shoes in no time.
One night I chucked them down into the trash chute.
See how trim I am these days!

* * *
Once I bought a single chrysanthemum on a stem.
We watched it blossom, red and full.
Those times now bring a smile to me
finding its brown petals as I sweep the floor.

~ Wing Tek Lum

(no subject)

Dec. 6th, 2012 11:04 pm
malapropian: (anatomyheartu)
This weekend looks like it'll be a little busy with errands and my partner's birthday (the big 3-6) and attempting to make the house less hoarders-ish. (It's not nearly as bad as the houses in the show, but there's a lot of clutter. I think the unfolded laundry on my loveseat has gained sentience and formed a government by now).

I have so much holiday baking to do, and I don't even celebrate Christmas! *shrugs* At least, I like cookies and gingerbread and fruit cake.

Writing anything is on the back burner, but I made a good start on in a few days ago. Unfortunately, I keep having ideas. My next project might be a series of tiny moments based on Richard Siken's poems.


Dec. 3rd, 2012 10:03 am
malapropian: from Wonder Falls (cow of pain)
It probably says something about me that if I took out all the desperation sex in the apocalypse story, I'd lose about 30% of the existing and planned content.


Dude. I don't even know what I'm doing awake right now. I was too wired to sleep last night (my insomnia is mightier than the sword). Tomorrow I will look at my files and wonder what the fuck I thought I was writing.

But that is tomorrow!

Fear it.

Dec. 2nd, 2012 06:34 pm
malapropian: (Default)
I spent a few hours writing today. My experiment has given me pathetically few words for all the time I spent.

Honestly, I think it's pretty terrible because I'm doing something that I don't really think counts as a good example of any kind of writing except for gratuitous fanservice angst. There is so much angst that it might have toxic levels.

I don't even know... I feel like I should apologize for Sakura and Kakashi. A lot. Maybe if I mutilate their characterisations again, I'll do something happy. With sexing. (Please stop me while I'm marginally ahead).

Still, it feels nice to write something (anything). Even if it's probably not actually good.
If you ask me where November went, then I have NO ANSWER.

Really, I have no idea how it is already December. Magic. Obviously, magic.

I managed to not participate in Nanowrimo, have a cold through most of November and participate in a semi-traditional American Thanksgiving... all through a haze of Nyquil and other drugs. If I did anything else of note (video games don't count except for with my little group), then I certainly can't remember. Oh! I watched all of the available Sword Art Online in two days. Yeah, still not very noteworthy or valuable. :/

My mostly non-existent immune system sucks. Maybe I should start taking a multi-vitamin again.

This month... this month I will write something! Anything. Well. Anything that's not an email or a review or a list or a blog entry?

Oh my. I just realized that I missed National Poetry Month. I love National Poetry Month. It is a wonderful excuse to spam people with poems I love or have just found or think are interesting...

So. Have a poem.

Objects Contain the Possibility of All Situations

I may kill. You should know this about me.
A razor in the night, without warning.
Objects contain the possibility
Of all situations. States of being
Embrace all imaginable events.
Any one life, or pair of lives, harbors
Every death. The succession of presents
Comprehends all foreseeable futures.
I have it in me to be a galaxy
Or one leaf on the frond of a fern.
I may become light in a sanctuary
Kindled by a rose window, or a cairn
Older than the woods it renders holy.
I may become water or earth. I may burn.

~H.L. Hix

(no subject)

Jun. 7th, 2012 04:27 am
malapropian: from The Sandman - Endless Nights (delirium fish)

I've been contemplating doing some noodling about with a drabble series. I just... really... I have no idea what fandom I want to write about. I just know that I want to write something about "I tell you miserable things after you are asleep" because I listen to The National too often. Hm. I had a vague thought of writing about visiting a stranger in a coma just to talk about private things which obviously (for me) led to Sakura talking to coma patients late at night about her troubles because the unconscious can't judge her.

I think that I need to start dealing with the fact that I'm afraid to write again. I stopped for a very long time because I had no extra emotional energy to deal with anything except trying to eke out an existence. Maybe things have changed enough?