Dec. 15th, 2016

Wednesday, October 19th, 2016
Tags: JiraOro, fem!Jiraya, Rule 63, genderbending, het, fem!Jiraya/Orochimaru
Relationship: Jiraiya/Orochimaru

Manic Magic Amazon and the Tim Burton Extra

Jiraiya comes as she is, goes as she please. She was the headache of orphanage's matron at age six, and the heartache among her fellow jounins at sixteen. Men were moths before the brilliance of her allure, and women too, find their resolve melting like spring snow in the sun.

It seemed the only ones completely immune to Jiraiya's charms were the ones she desired the most: her teammates.

Orochimaru would never call her a weak woman, even when he used to effortlessly trounce her in ninjutsu matches – not with Tsunade as their third teammate, but from day one, Orochimaru had dismissed Jiraiya as a stupid girl, and, jingling the bell she won and sticking her tongue out, Tsunade didn't disagree.

The era of the warring clans was not long behind them, most daughters of shinobi families were trained in private so they could defend themselves and their families – but they don't go into active service. Most kunoichi then were girls from poor civilian families or orphans like Jiraiya, girls who won't be missed, dropped into deep cover as servant girls and/or whores and/or mistresses. The boys from shinobi familes practiced being heavy hitters while the civilian girls learned how to serve and seduce.

Tsunade stood apart as the Senju princess and her instructors don't know what to do with her. Surely the Shodaime's granddaughter didn't intend to take typical kunoichi missions? Tsunade learnt how to pass and how to seduce the same as she learnt how to heal and how to kill, and once she was old enough (once she had finally worn Sarutobi-sensei down enough against blocking those missions), she went out and did a handful of seduction missions, just to prove that she could.

Team Hiruzen was unusal in that it had two girls instead of two boys. Jiraiya had hoped that the two of them would at least be friends, but the way Tsunade mocked her losses aside, Tsunade was always so serious.
Basically a long time ago I read something I find extremely disagreeable, and I decided to write something where Jiraiya travels back in time and focus on saving Orochimaru (versus kill them all), I believe that Jiraiya believed in redemption, he could have killed Konan when he had captured her but didn't, he only moved to kill Nagato when Nagato really forced his hand. I hit a goddamned writer's block because I couldn't decide how far back in time Jiraiya should travel, and when the Orochimaru of that time should know - because Orochimaru will figure it out, a question of when, and I could already see young!Orochimaru hitting on a very uncomfortable Jiraiya with "I've always liked older man anyways"...and then, why couldn't they BOTH travel back in time? I need to pick one and stick with it, since I really like the title "Authorial Saving Throw", I should just write a story about Jiraiya for now. I had this romantic idea of Jiraiya just following Orochimaru instead of just letting him leave when the experiments are found out, but "Authorial Saving Throw" seem to imply that I should aim for a hilarious amount of deux ex machina...

...and THEN I had the idea that instead of Jiraiya waking up young (effectively, taking over the life of his younger self), he goes back as a ghost that nags his younger self into saving the day, so that when Jiraiya goes forward again (what I learn from Time Travel, I learn at the feet of Captain Janeway...Janeway is more fun than Picard because she knows that The Laws of Nature are more like, The GUIDELINES of Nature), All Is Well.

When Jiraiya was five years old, he found a raven-haired girl with skin as white as winter snow and yellow eyes that shrone golden in the shadows. He would watch her when she practices in the training grounds just outside the Forest of Death, in loose white robes bordered at the folds by blue tomoes, shrikens blooming from its billowy sleeves like birds from a magician's hat. She was like a spirit from a storybook, ethereal, delicate and deadly. Noting his presence, she would turn nowandthen and glare in his direction, hands on her hips sometimes, but soon she would return to her practice.

Jiriaya finally meets the girl when classes start at the Academy, and the girl was a boy, "Orochimaru". In a classroom presided over by a stern faced teacher, surrounded by their rowdy peers (all years older than both of them), Orochimaru was less unearthly, but no less unusual.

Title: Authorial Saving Throw
Summary: Jiraiya Travels Back In Time - to save Orochimaru - and also, the World.
Tags: stalking is love

The cocoon that Orochimaru was wrapped in twitches violently, as though he was awake and struggling to be free, but when Hagoromo unwrapped him from the clutches of the World Tree, his eyes were tightly shut, and his sunken face, was tense with a terror that Jiraiya had never seen on it, not since their chunnin days decades ago.

Jiraiya could feel ribs through Orochimaru's loose kimono top as he carried his unconscious friend back into the bubble space that Hagoromo had enacted against the grasping vines of the World Tree. The violent thrashing had subsided down to tremors, but it was clear that Orochimaru was still in the throes of a nightmare, "I thought those caught in the Eternal Tsukiyomi were supposed to be dreaming of a perfect world where they would be /happy/?"

Hagoromo studied Orochimaru's sleeping face, standing a feet away from them, sensing Jiraiya's fierce sense of protectiveness, "Orochimaru is suspicious and clever enough to question the perfect world - but nightmares are complicated enough that not even he could break through the genjutsu.

"Will he wake if I take him back with me?"

"You must be awake to make the trip back - it is the mind after all, that I will send back, and Orochimaru has very little of himself left at this point - the tree took more from him that others because he fought - soon he will die."

Because Jiraiya doesn't believe in giving up, he tries - in the hours to follow, he alternated between shaking Orochimaru and holding him close, whispering his wishes and repeating the tales from their childhood's years.

Thursday, October 6th, 2016

Jiraiya travels back in time to save Orochimaru, and also the world.
Both of Them

Yahiko and Konan are playful with each other and gentle with Nagato, Nagato who could blush as red as his hair when they touch him, Nagato who was always hesitant when he joins them - first with shyness, then with reverance.
Behold! Below is a smut scene that has been haunting my brain since November, it's hot when I think about it, but translating a fantasy of sensations and feelings into text form is hard mode - I need to figure out if I want Sakumo's POV or Orochimaru's POV.

Feeling cold feels terrible, but snowfall can be so beautiful, picture Orochimaru being persuaded to watch the snowfall in his yard, while sitting in Sakumo's lap, getting all pliant and giving Sakumo ideas.

I don't know if this will be better with JiraOro, because Jiraiya is a perv, but I associate Sakumo with The North. Also, Sakumo is just so alpha.

Endlessly, drifts of snow floated down all around them, blending seamlessly into the white banks at the sides of the yard, and falling feather-like upon Orochimaru's dark hair and Sakumo's gray cloak. Held in Sakumo's lap within the cloak, Orochimaru shivers between the cold kisses of winter, sliding cold and wet down his neck, and the furnace warmth of Sakumo pressed against his back, the arm around his waist, and the large hand hot over his mouth. Sleepily, Orochimaru closes his eyes and licks at Sakumo's palm.

Sakumo chuckled, combing snowflakes from Orochimaru's hair, then he adjusted the sides of his cloak to wrap around his smaller lover, till only purple shadowed golden eyes were visible within the folds of the cloak. "Better?" Orochimaru answered with a slow nod, the movement not seen by Sakumo but felt against his chest.

Orochimaru's house is just steps behind them, and his bedroom is only a shunshin away, but having enjoyed the stark beauty of Orochimaru amidst the falling snow, Sakumo was determined to have Orochimaru enjoy the memory of having Sakumo hot inside him before they returned to the house.
If I had to write Sakumo and Orochimaru as Hades and Persephone:

A Little Time

In the Kingdom of the Cold, he who had lived under the hot sun and looked often up into its bright face, is close to blind. The land of the dead is a land of shadows that lacks substance, the only other solid being here was his captor.

Sakumo’s hands were hot, and his kisses were wet. Every gray morning when Orochimaru wakes in Sakumo’s bed, the world comes into clearer focus, he could see better the sublime nuances that had dragged the feet of Orpheus’s bride as she reluctantly followed him out of underworld.


I would go with a darker and rough around the edges Sakumo.

If I were to pick any Greek figure to go with Orochimaru, I would pick Medusa. But picture Medusa!Orochimaru, standing blindfolded and disarmed, with Sakumo or Jiraiya standing at his back, bending down to kiss his neck - even cursed, it's not impossible to love him.

Jiraiya was ordered to kill Orochimaru, but instead, blindfolds him and brings him back to his palace. He could not bear to take away Orochimaru's sight forever so he does not permanently blind him, but the inevitable accident happens and Jiraiya turns to stone. The lover's plight move a goddess to tears (I could not yet decide who), and the goddess brings the Jiraiya statute back to live, and switches Orochimaru's cursed eyes with that of a man-sized serpent, creating the first basilisk.
Another victim of writers' block. I was going to have Orochimaru save a little wolf cub from something to earn him the stalking love of papa!wolf!Sakumo.


It might not be evident from his oft sullen demeanor or the moon-paleness of his skin, but Orochimaru was a devout worshipper of the sun. Slow summer mornings were divine, when it was so pleasantly warm that he could sprawl out naked with his sheets to the side, basking in the direct sunlight shrone across his bed from the wide windows. Slow afternoons, he would take a book to his garden, where there was a wide high chair carved out of stone, and many evenings Jiraiya and Tsunade had found him curled up in the sun-heated seat with his snakes, a content smile on his face.

Cold weather makes Orochimaru sluggish. There was more of the snake in him than the slitted pupils of his golden eyes. Family lore held that their clan was found when a Great White Snake had fallen in love with the son of a feudal lord, giving up her immortality to be his wife after he had ran away with her.

The old growth woods between Orochimaru and his warm bed seem to stretch forever. Though it was now midday and what patches of sky he could glimpse above the tall canopy of red and gold leaves were bright blue, very little light reached the forest floor. He wasn't afraid of the dark or forest spirits said to dwell here (not when he was descended from a snake), but he hated the gray dimness that haunts the woods all times of the year except for early Spring, when the grounds would be a sea of blue and purple flowers.
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