LJ: this one :3
Timezone: GMT-3, not that it matters, I’m on most of the day.
Style of Writing: Third person, past tense. Present tense if absolutely necessary, but unless it’s a flashback it tends to throw me off the mood.
Characters you would prefer to use: Namikaze Minato,
Characters you would like yours to interact with:
For Minato: Yondaime Kazekage (aka Daichi, as I got stuck calling him), Sakumo, Kakashi
I’m just gonna list them here…Without caring who tops:
Yondishipping (Minato/Yondi Kazekage)
Is there a particular age group you would prefer?: above 17, please~
Timeline/Setting: I’m okay with all and any AU, Gaiden era, normal Naruto, shippouden Naruto, etc.
AIM/e-mail or any other form of contact: firstname.lastname@example.org
Any additional information: I write third person, past tense, and you can trust a decently sized paragraph from me at my worst (and like three word pages worth of writing if I’m really into it). I’m flexible, I like brainstorming with my partners, and if we get stuck, I don’t mind rewinding and finding ways of fixing it.
“…Warm?” incredulity fairly dipped from his words.
Sure, it wasn’t freezing because if it were they wouldn’t have this snowy rain/rainy snow thing dropping on them, they’d have actual snow. It wasn’t as cold as it could get either, but certainly not something anyone would call ‘warm’, much less something to get undressed about.
“Hey, where are you going- will you stop that?” he grabbed the man’s hands on his own gloved ones, pulling them away from the claps. “I don’t care where the hell you think you are going, but unless you know a better-”
And that’s as far as he got because that’s as far as it took for the thin fabric to let the man’s heat soak through- or more accurately, the lack of thereof. For a moment he stared at the older male, then resolutely let go to pull one glove off. The hand they revealed was slim and bony, with long fingers and numerous scars littering them. The edges of some sort of sigil barely peeked from under the sleeve, and he wrapped it around the Kazekage’s wrist to check his pulse.
Unnoticed, he winced under the mask. Not really because of the pulse, which was a bit slower than normal, but the man’s skin felt clammy and cold. And his own skin was cold enough from exposure too, so if by comparison there was a noticeable difference between the two…
“Oh, awesome.” His fingers were very white now. Almost bluish.
How the hell had he gotten into this situation?
Might have something to do with the snob you picked a few days ago? some internal voice reminded him. Short, red-haired, thinks entirely too highly of himself?
Might have seen him.
Surely you must have, he’s hard to miss-Got stabbed in the chest, lost like half of his blood and still walked nonstop for days; might have not had a decent meal since last night and you have been making him march under frozen rain for half a day?
Oh, so that’s why he didn’t like having internal conversations. All the voices were smartasses. He forgot sometimes.
It’s also cold in Suna at night.
Dry cold. This is humid cold, genius.
He paused to think, but then shrugged. Because there really weren’t that many options left either way. Ninja kind of needed fingers for jutsu, something mother nature didn’t keep in mind when survival was intended. Grabbing the man’s hands, he pulled at them and brought them under his own cloak and shirt, letting a hiss when normal and warmed up skin meet something that felt like if it had just taken out of a freezer.