'Beach Trip' - Requested Naruto One-shot

Your head flops against your friend's bed as a sigh of defeat jumps from your mouth. You close your eyes and cover them with an arm; sheltering them from the midday sun streaming in through the window. Konan, giving you a sympathetic - but slightly smug - smile, says,
“Well, think about it this way! In two weeks you'll have done all of your exams and we can celebrate with a month of straight-partying!”
You lift your arm off your face and give her a depressed look. Yes, it's exam season. You had your first exam earlier today, and in your opinion it did not go well. You had revised quite a lot, but as soon as you had turned over the exam paper, BAM! Your mind had gone blank. Just your luck, huh?
Konan sighs, trying to think of a good way to cheer you up. She knows exactly what exam-season can get like; it had been just the same for her two years ago, when she had been up to her knees in revision and tests and lack of sleep. That had been a fun couple of months...
Realising that you are about to lose the will to live, Konan quickly opens her mouth and asks in as cheery a voice as she can muster,
“Well, what would you like-”

'Lights' - Requested Naruto One-shot

It was a dark and stormy night in Konoha. The streets were deserted, and rain lashed like a whip. Sarah was huddled in a blanket in her living room, eyes glued to the television. She was supposed to be at an extra training session with her team, but no way was she venturing out into that! When she saw them tomorrow, she was sure they would understand.

Never the less, when there were three sharp raps against her front door, she could not help but jump. She got up; blanket wrapped firmly around her, and walked to the door as she quickly began to think of an excuse to explain why she was missing training.

With one – not brilliant but usable – excuse in mind, she pulled open the front door, but instead of seeing her Sensei or another of her team-mates, she saw her friend, Ino, shivering and cold but with a determined grin on her face.

“Oh good! Sarah, you're in!” Without being invited Ino walked through the door, passing Sarah by, into the hallway where she proceeded to try and dry out her hair, “It's a bit wet outside.”

Looking down at the trail of water that had followed Ino into her house, Sarah nodded,

“No kidding?” She looked up from the pool on her floor, to Ino, “So why were you crazy enough to venture out into the storm, in that?” she said, pointing disbelievingly at Ino's usual attire of short purple clothing, a few bandages and nothing else – not even a jacket. Ino, after giving up on attempting to dry herself off, gave Sarah a wink, tapping the side of her nose. This seemed to worry Sarah more than any verbal answer could have done.

“What are you up to?” Sarah demanded. Ino, seeing her friend's expression, giggled.

“Don't look so worried, Sarah! It's nothing bad-”

“So it is something?”

Ino winked again, beginning to put her hand into her side-bag,

“Well of course.” She produced a small pouch from her bag, no bigged than her hand. Sarah looked at it suspiciously but before she had time to ask about it, Ino was already holding it out towards her,

“Pull out the first thing you grab.”

Sarah stepped back, attempting to hide her hands deep within the blanket around her so that Ino could never find them.

“Why should I? What's the bag?”

At this, Ino began to pout,

“Why so suspicious all of a sudden?”

“Last time you told me to do this,” Sarah reminded, “I pulled out a-...” her face paled at the memory. Ino laughed, waving her free hand about in the air,

“I already told you it wasn't me! It was that Naruto kid, using transformation jutsu – I swear!”

Quickly giving up the attempt to get out of putting her hand in the bag, Sarah decided to give Ino a small jab to her pride, instead. Holding her hand out in defeat, she smirked,

“Yeah, it was Naruto. A likely story.”

Ino flipped her hair,

“It's true. Where would I have been able to get one of those things, anyway?” A grin grew on her face and she undid the fastening on the pouch, then held it out for Sarah, “Now pick one.”

Sarah, looking at the fabric pouch with suspicion one final time, closed her eyes and slipped her hand between the folds of the fabric, praying she would not feel anything slimy.

She didn't. What she felt were undoubtedly pieces of paper, and lots of them. Following the instructions of her friend, Sarah grabbed the first piece of paper that ran between her fingers and fished it out of the bag. She held it out in front of her, then opened it, looking at what was written there. Ino, once she had slipped the pouch back into her bag and had produced a small notepad, asked,

“What number did you get?”

Author:// "It really makes me laugh"

Well, since I'm always writing on here I thought I'd take a moment to stop and say Merry Christmas and a happy New Year! Here's a Christmas story for you! Also, I'd just like to say thank you; thank you to my followers, and also to everyone who uses a search engine to find my blog.

You may not know this, but I know exactly what you type in on the search engine before you come to my blog (it's a little bloggers' tool ;D), and dear God they don't half make me laugh :) OK, I've had the obvious 'Akatsuki 7 minutes in heaven' but then I've had some great ones like 'Tobi trip over tent pole' and 'Yazoo final fantasy plait heaven' xD They never cease to amuse me. It's also nice, because it shows you know about my work, remember it, and are able to search for it using what you remember (hence 'Tobi trip over tent pole')

So yeah, just thought I'd stop to say hey - I haven't written a personal entry on this thing yet, so I thought I should - and a thank you for making me smile! Have no fear, you'll be getting another wave of stories just as soon as the New Year's in!

Love, Sarah xx

Loveless: {Genesis x You One-shot}

            (Posted originally as a 10k profile hit commemoration on Quizilla)         

You walk with a spring in your step on the way to your house, your school bag slung over a shoulder and a small pile of books and folders clustered in your arms. You let out a happy whistle as you turn the next corner, deciding to take a short cut home. You are in a little bit of a hurry.

            Earlier today your mother sent you a text saying that the book you had ordered has finally arrived. It is probably sat in your bedroom right now. You clench your school books closer to your chest, tickling with anticipation and excitement. The book you have ordered is the first volume of 'Loveless' – a series of manga about a boy with cat ears, trying to find his brother. You can't wait!

You speed up, trying to get home faster. You dodge a large group of younger students from your school, rolling your eyes at them. Why they have to walk in such large groups that walk so slowly, you have no idea. You leave them in the distance behind you, almost coming into a sprint now. You are not too far away; in fact you can see the light blue slating of your roof. You grin, securing a hand over your book bag, then run the last few meters to your front gate. You hop over it – momentarily looking back, surprised that you managed to clear it (usually you fall flat on your face) – then run up to your front door.

            You shuffle the books around in your arms, dropping a couple, then with one free hand you knock on wood. You pause. No one answers. You begin to bounce on the balls of your feet, hoping that your parents haven't stepped out for a quick errand. You hadn't picked up your key this morning, and it would be luck that now is the first time you've ever needed it. There's about another few seconds of waiting, then you give a small sigh of relief when the door is unlatched.

            Feeling you've wasted too much time already, even before the door's been pulled back you set off moving, pushing what remains of your pile of books out in front of you. Your mother manages to get the door just wide enough to stop you from colliding into it painfully, then you push your books into her hands and dart past her, dropping your school bag in the hallway.

            “___!” your mother yells scornfully, looking at the collection of books spilling from her hands, and some still left to wallow out in the garden. You look over your shoulder and call back,

            “Sorry! I'll get them in a minute!” by this time you're already up the stairs and on the landing. You dash along to your room and fling open the door, whereas down below your mother can only roll her eyes, laughing slightly at your over-enthusiasm. You manage to slow down once your door's open and you're inside. You can see the package sitting on your bedside table. It's at this point that you finally sigh, panting slightly. You know for a fact that all that running you've just done is going to come back to bite you tomorrow. You'll be as stiff as a bone.

            You kick your school-shoes off, slackening off your tie at the same time. You walk across the floor to one side of your bed and flop down onto it, pausing slightly to take in the comfortable feeling of your cotton blankets, then shuffle across so that your hands are just reaching over the other side of the bed, where they are in reach of the package. You wrap your fingers around the brown packaging and pull it up, dropping it in front of you with the sound of someone letting the air out of a beach-ball. You stare at it, your face breaking out in a grin then pull it towards you; needy hands grasping at the packaging to tear it all away.

            Below the layer of cardboard box there is another layer of bubble-wrap, wound so tightly that the book in the middle is barely noticeable for all of the compressed pockets of air. Nevertheless your hands work quickly, pulling the protective layer away, earning the occasional pop that makes you laugh. You will be playing with that later. You strip the thing bare then turn it over so the front cover of the book is looking up at you. You grin. It looks so... regal.

            The cover is a layer of white bound on top of a brown leathering with thin rope, held in place with four ornate, golden metal corner pieces. The decoration on the cover is very simple. In the top centre of the book there is the title 'LOVELESS' in golden lettering, surrounded by a boarder of ornate stencils, then below it there is - what you can only presume to be - a flower made of four golden circles, each holding a heart inside them. Below that are the words 'Legends of the LOVELESS' and the author of the book – whose name you have never heard of before, but of course that's expected as it had been your friend who had suggested the series to you in the first place. You have no idea who's written it.

            You give a giddy giggle, taking the book firmly in your hands, then flip to the first page. That's when you stop. You study the page, your eyebrows slowly pulling down into a frown, then flip to the next page, then the next, then the next. You take a better grip on the book then pull your thumb up the side, flicking through the pages. It's all writing. This isn't right. Your friend told you that this book is a manga – a Japanese cartoon book... so why is it all in writing? You flick back to the first page and start to read it,

            When the war of the beast brings about world's end the goddess descends from the sky. Wings of light and dark spread far-

            You put the book down. This isn't right at all. You close the book, dusting your hand lightly over the cover, then pull yourself up to  a sitting position. Hmm. You look around. There, on the floor, is the cardboard box it had arrived in. You lean down and pick it up, flipping it to look at the collection of stamps.

            There. Now you realise the problem. Looking across the many many foreign stamps – some of which you've never even heard of – you come to realise that this book 'LOVELESS' is not your Loveless. You are expecting your package to have come from across America, whereas this package has come from somewhere called... Midgar? You've never heard of the place. You flex your fingers, thinking things over. There must be more than one book under the same title then. You curse under your breath. This means there must have been a mix-up at the post-office or something, and that means you have someone's 'LOVELESS', and that same someone has your 'Loveless' instead. Damn. You've been looking forward to reading your new book ever since you'd gotten the text.

You drop the packaging onto your bed, next to the book, then flop backwards so your head crashes against your pillow, a pout on your lips. Your Loveless could be anywhere now. Half way across the world for all you know. Where is 'Midgar' anyway? It sounds almost Norwegian.

            That's when a thought hits you. You roll onto your side and pick up the packaging again, twirling it round in your fingers to find something. Of course what you're looking for is on the bottom. The address. Why it's on the bottom of the package you have no idea. That's probably the reason your package got mixed in the first place. You read over the words of where this package was meant to have been sent, expecting it to be a foreign country. What you don't expect is it to be in the same neighbourhood as you.

            With the address firmly burnt into your mind you jump up from the bed, landing on your carpeted floor with a loud thud. You scoop up the confounded 'LOVELESS', stuff it back into the cardboard box (making sure to leave the bubble-wrap for you to play with later), then slip back into your school shoes and head out the door. You charge along the landing, not bothering to miss treading on your baby brother's pile of stuffed toys, down the stairs and into the living room. In the same breath you manage to say,

            “MumwhereisthisaddressIneedtoknowIwanttogetmybookback?!” you thrust the package forward, holding the address out for you mother to look at. She takes a moment to blink, staring wide-eyed at you as what you've just said processes in her mind. As it all settles down she begins to realise why you're holding a torn up cardboard box for her. She takes it from you and looks at the barely legible address, then holds it away from her so she can think properly.

            “That's... well that's a couple of streets over. That's the same street the post office's on!” She hands you back the package. “Now what was that about needed to get a book back?”

            Too late. You're already out the door. You're already half way down the street.