i just wanted to put the plot bunny out there

Samsara (Part 2/3)

Summary: Sakura’s words die in her throat as the man’s eyes shoot open, and the coldest red irises she has ever seen meet hers. She is hit by a wave of terrifying certainty about two things right then – that she knows these eyes better than any other and that, if he wanted to, this man could stop her heart with just a look. [SasuSaku Festival 2017 – Day 15 – Prompt: “The Biggest Gesture”]

Disclaimer: This story utilizes characters, situations and premises that are copyright Masashi Kishimoto, Shueisha, Shonen Jump and Viz Media. No infringement on their respective copyrights pertaining to episodes, novelizations, comics or short stories is intended by the author in any way, shape or form. This fan oriented story is written solely for the author’s own amusement and the entertainment of the readers. It is not for profit. Any resemblance to real organizations, institutions, products or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All fiction, plot and Original Characters with the exception of those introduced in the books, manga, video games, novelizations and anime, are the sole creation of KuriQuinn and using them without permission is considered rude, in bad-taste and will reflect seriously on your credibility as a writer. You will be squished by a Susanoo wielding demi god if you are found plagiarizing.

Warning: Spoilersfor pretty much everything up to Naruto Gaiden.

Canon-Compliance: Takes place during the Blank Period.

Fanon-Compliance: Takes place several years before An Inch of Gold and Unplanned.

AN: So, I decided I didn’t feel like waiting to post this. It’s unedited, but I will put up the edited part as soon as is humanly possible. Also, although I had originally planned for this to be a two-part fic, my plot bunnies decided to hit me with a bunch of other plot possibilities. So it’s probably gonna end up three parts. Therefore, if you want to read the continuation, you guys’ll just have to follow on my blog or something once SasuSakuFestival is over. I hope to post the next chapter within the week :P

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“Indra.”

Sasuke repeats the name slowly, sounding out the syllables as if the word is completely foreign to him. There is a deceptive calm in his voice, as if he is putting every shred of his considerable concentration into not reacting to Sakura’s tale.

“It’s…it’s not exactly a common name, is it?” she murmurs tentatively, hanging on to that tiny shred of hope that’s taken root since she awoke in a terrified sweat.

“No.”

They regard each other in heavy silence. Neither knows quite what to make of this development.

“Do you…” she begins, then pauses, because the question is utterly ridiculous and there’s no possible way… And yet. “Do you remember any of it?”

She doesn’t know what exactly Sasuke saw or experienced when he interacted with the Sage of Six Paths, whether the transfer of his chakra also meant a transfer of memories. It’s not a time they speak of very often.

“No. Whatever I knew that day disappeared quickly,” Sasuke tells her quietly.

“Oh.” She wraps her arms around herself. “So why am I dreaming this then? If anyone should be dreaming about you – past-you – it should be you. Or Naruto even. Unless –” She peeks up at him. “Maybe it’s my past life?”

“Then why are you only experiencing it now, after everything we’ve seen?” he counters, the calm from earlier giving way to something sharp.

“I don’t know,” she admits. “It does kind of seem like something the Sage of Six Paths should have mentioned when we all met. But what else could it be? It’s like I’m her, Sasuke.”

Sasuke’s eyes narrow in contemplation, jaw clenched and she swears she can hear him grinding his teeth. She reaches out – it’s instinctive to want to comfort him, even though she’s the one who woke upset – and places a soothing hand on his shoulder. The other automatically covers her still flat stomach.

Sasuke’s eyes follow the movement, and then snap back to her face.

“The dreams didn’t start until you found out you were pregnant,” he says in a low tone.

“It’s possible,” she allows.

“That’s the connection,” he muses, almost to himself, staring into the distance like he is seeing something she can’t. “He is the ancestor of the Uchiha…you’re carrying the next generation…it has to have something to do with that.”

“You really think so?” Sakura asks. The idea is unsettling.

“Do you have any other explanation?” he replies, almost harsh. The calm from earlier has begun to erode.

“Well, no, but we can’t just jump to conclusions,” she reasons. “Maybe it’s just…maybe every woman in your clan has dreams like this. Or…or maybe only women who are about to give birth to someone of Indra’s bloodline. Or –”

“Or maybe it’s because I’m Indra’s reincarnation that it’s happening,” Sasuke interrupts, running a hand across his face in agitation. His right eye flickers briefly between red and black. “Of course, we’ll never know for sure and there’s no one to ask because –”

“Sasuke, stop,” she cuts him off, taking hold of his hand. She squeezes it, trying to transmit some sense of calm, despite the fact that his obvious panic is frightening her. She has never seen him lose composure like this, and her immediate instinct is to put a stop to it. “It’s not something worth getting worked up about. These are dreams. Dreams that might not even be real, and are probably just my mind shoving together a bunch of information. You know, odd facts I know about you and me and maybe some of the plot from that horrible romance novel I was reading. If it helps, I’ll stop reading it.”

“Sakura –”

“Let’s not worry too much about unwanted commentary from dead people, okay?” She makes a face. “And that is a sentence I never though I would say.

The look Sasuke gives her now is equal parts awed and disbelieving.

“You are taking this remarkably well,” he says, sounding almost accusing.

Sakura tosses her hair. “I told you, didn’t I? The day we met the Sage of Six Paths? Nothing will ever surprise me again.”

Keep reading

2

I paint a thousand words

Bernie Wolfe is an artist, divorced, mother of two and generally just a total mess of a human being. The last year has been hell: her husband found out her muse was more than just her muse and he took his revenge by putting her through an ugly divorce. Her children no longer want to have anything to do with her and she’s lost her muse as well, in more ways than one. As a result, Bernie has also lost the inspiration to paint.

Now, in an attempt to reconcile with at least one of her children, Bernie agrees to meet with Cameron after his shift at a pub near the hospital he works in. As they sit at the bar in awkward silence, Bernie’s eyes are drawn to a woman across the room. She’s beautiful; she smiles freely and when she does, her eyes sparkle and when their eyes meet, Bernie’s sure the world stops for just a few moments.

The next day Bernie finds herself drawing a sketch of the woman, her face seared into Bernie’s memory. She’d wanted to ask Cameron who she was (they’d greeted with nods when Bernie and Cameron had walked in), but she’d been too afraid to say anything that might upset him now that he’d finally agreed to meet.

Days turn into weeks and Bernie can’t stop thinking about the woman. So she abandons the sketches and takes up a paint brush.

I want a plot based around two girls that are best friends and they don’t necessarily click in the way that they wanna fuck and shove each other into doors trying to get the other out of their clothes, it’s more of a co-dependency relationship/friendship. They aren’t dating, but they both get jealous when the other is in a relationship with somebody else. They’re both popular in school (in different crowds) and maybe one of them is head cheerleader and the other is a huge science nerd, but they grew up together and they’d never let the differences between cliques come between their friendship. At least they try not to. I want there to be late nights where one is running over to the others house after curfew because she needs somebody to hold her while she sleeps. And I want there to be fights and melodramatic little quips. Maybe the nerdy one has a bigger mouth than the cheerleader. I want there to be screwed up make out sessions and then they just pretend like it never happened. It’s nothing more than a friendship. They do everything together. One of them is focused on moral rights and the other is focused on just having a good time, but they have long talks and lose sleep trying to put the pieces together in life and they make dumb plans and just everything is focused on them and growing and learning and finding out who they are and their friendship. I want the craziness of it all. 

Status

Okay, so here’s what I’ve decided about the previews. I’m going to try to put out one a week, and they’ll likely vary in length, just so you can get an idea of what kind of plot bunnies are running rampant all over my hard drive :). I’ve decided to do this on Mondays, and the # will always be #previewmonday, so you can look for it if you want to.

Due to the immense popularity of Better Be a Marine (the original preview I posted). I decided to go ahead and go for it, and will be starting writing that fic, though updates will probably be a little slow because I have a lot on my plate right now. I’m hoping to have the first chapter, which is mostly finished posted on Sunday evening.

And speaking of things to be posted. I have finished the second chapter of Out of This World (ShanksxFemHarry) and it will also be posted Sunday. I’m also hoping to have another chapter of Heart of a Phoenix up for you guys, though that one’s a work in progress at the moment, with about twenty pages and approximately 10,000 words written I think I’m anywhere from 1/3 to ½ way done with the things I wanted to get done in that chapter we’ll just have to see and hope it doesn’t get too much longer like the first chapter did

The AUs will probably be updated not this weekend, but the weekend after, and I think that’s pretty much it! If you’ve got questions, comments, or requests for previews feel free to message me either here or over on Archive of Our Own where my stuff is actually posted! :D

‘Tales From the Bentley-Champagne, Water-Boarding, and the Long Way Home’

A/N: So this is apparently what happens when I tell hopedreamlovepray I want to write something fluffy when she’s had two beers on an empty stomach. She puts a dirty, dirty plot bunny into my head. And I ran with it. 

I know technically this happens in a limo, not a Bentley, but give it to me, okay? 

Hope you enjoy. This is totally NSFW! 

Tropes, including the car tropes can be found here-’Tales From the Bentley

ff.net

Ao3

Keep reading

2

#all i can see #is geeky!stiles having to tutor jock!derek in something #and he’s always doing like twelve things at once but somehow still helps derek understand things somehow #and he makes nerd-flirty jokes about covalent bonds and he does the sleazy eyebrow thing #and derek is like what because he’s really introverted and focused on his sport and what school things he DOES get #because he’s not stupid just something about chemistry doesn’t click for him #but he doesn’t really understand that stiles is hitting on him even though he’s starting to develop a thing for stiles #and he notices the way stiles plays with pens nonstop and chews on them #and how he always has like thirty tabs open on his laptop and a comic book and a game of angry birds on his phone #and how stiles never actually stops moving #but none of it is as distracting as stiles’ lips when he smiles #and somehow #stiles actually helps him pass #(with flying colours) #and he’s like ‘well looks like you don’t need to associate with me anymore’ #and derek’s like wait what #and stiles walks away because he thinks derek hasn’t actually NOTICED him #and derek chases him down and asks him out for coffee

haru-no-hikaru  asked:

Pilot, how do I actually get started writing? I've read a bunch of books on writing, but every time I sit down to actually do it I get incredibly bored. I always feel like I'd have a lot more fun reading the story I'm trying to write. And instead of writing any of them, I just keep coming up with more and more plot bunnies and fleshing them out in my head instead of writing them down to share with others.

I understand that comepletely, in fact that is more my default state than anything else. I cant tell you how many fics Ive written in my head and never put down. and the versions of chapters i put out are almost never what i intended. I often just want to READ the idea i have, not do all the work to get it down.

imagining the scene as complexly as possible tends to help me. Think of every single thing this one still image needs to be alive.

its a backyard, okay good, we know that much. your story starts in a backyard. where? that changes how it looks. Its cool, not cold, but cool, the sky is over cast and its raining gently. there is a stone patio with a slight dip in the concrete where a puddle has formed. the kids of the family had been playing out there in the summer with bubble blowers and the sop had long since dried, but in the rain it gives all the puddles a gentle purple sheen that changes. grass grows in the cracks, and the wind chimes hanging from the old wood rafters give off gentle hollow chimes. Water drips through the metal tubes and joins the puddles as they form. water too can be seen dripping down the wood supports, through cracks and give in the wood, and drifting lazily down through the almost completely forgotten paint job. It must be fifty years old at least. There are chairs, simple plastic and white, cheap. Five dollars each at most, but they dont discredit the area. Just makes it feel… homely. They are dirty, scuffed, but slowly being cleaned by the rain. The canopy overhead is incomplete, and everything is slowly drenched. There are a few dry spots left under a dirty glass table, the wind hasnt brought rain to those last few places yet. If you were an ant perched beneath the great expanse of glass, it would look like you were beneath the surface of a lake, dry and peaceful. 


now heres the thing all that just came out of my ass? like just now. it wasnt beautiful or well written, it was just descriptive. not even so much that, but complete. i offered pieces. 

every single story is a collaboration between a million different facts as you determine them. It is your job as the author to connect them and make them relevant to each other. 

there are wind chimes and old plastic chairs, mismatched with a nice glass table.

why?

because grandmas been gone for some time now. the windchimes were hers and she had such nice matching patio  furniture. but they got old, and replaced by those who inherited the house. when new chairs were bought it wasnt with the same care or passion, but it wasnt done with malice. it was just different now, as are all things.

there were three things that i established. the chairs, the table, and the windchimes. 

what made them a story was making them relevant to each other. 

if you’re having trouble, dont write a story, describe an image. there are stills in your brain of people and rooms and street corners. describe them, and then make them relevant. every movie is made up of a million still frames, so craft the frames and make them relevant to each other. using this mentality helps me tie things back. 

i can say “a desk, white and elegant, inherently simple but clearly well made. it isnt destroyed but it clearly isnt respected as a expensive or valuable thing. It holds an equally as impressive computer, a dozen or so scattered paper, a calnder, a mousepad, a few idly chewed pencils, and an intricate glass ornament with a single gold looped string, placed very particularly and with the utmost care. One might even say fondness.”

out of all those things you can make a story. This is the desk of Adrien Agreste as I’ve decided it, and i made one object important. the ornament from Secret Santa. If youre stuck and looking for inspiration, imagine a single image as detailed as you are capable. an expression and everything it means. the color of someones eyes. the way people on the street react to a slight chill in a gust of wind. 

it can help with inspiration, and progress what makes the story tie together. it can also help keep you interested.