Crackfic, AU. The Third Hokage granted Uchiha Itachi's request to spare the Uchiha children, only to realize too late that they were all horrible devil children. Literally. Which may be why Naruto fits right in with the rest of the little monsters Sasuke's too busy raising to brood.

Itachi and Madara massacre the clan, but they miss one member. Obito, loyal Konoha ANBU and disowned Uchiha, suddenly finds himself out of the organization that’s been his life for eight years and raising a traumatized, orphaned child. Kakashi helps. Or watches and plays the smartass, it’s a bit of a tossup.

For the sake of his pride, Jiraiya's going to imagine that his double went out in the bed of some voracious and lusty twins—no, make that triplets, with everyone wildly satisfied and a smile on his face. The whole alternate universe thing is easier to swallow that way.

Flashes of an unknown past haunt Naruto, entwining his steps with those of a former life no longer content to stay forgotten. There's a voice on the wind and another lifetime in his head, and it’s time for Uzushio’s Storm God to rise once more. (The soul of a city is a hard thing to kill. Uzushio is still aware, still waiting. And now, with the rebirth of her greatest Kage, it’s time to call her people home.)

Eight-year-old Sasuke is a broken soul. Eight-year-old Naruto is a hated demon-carrier. Eight-year-old Sakura is a bright girl whose parents are killed unexpectedly in a house fire. They meet as three orphans desperate to become the strongest of ninja and in the process find a new family.

After the loss of his wife and his predecessor, Minato throws himself into his work, leaving his son almost entirely alone. Naruto grows up shunned but never outright reviled, aware of his burden and achingly lonely. But it’s not his way to give up, and someday, with the help of Kakashi, Obito, and a few faithful friends, he’s going to show his father just what kind of shinobi he can be.

Orochimaru is on the edge of breaking when someone unexpected pulls him back to solid ground. When the time comes, he returns the favor.

He cannot help but compare himself to the swords that hang on the wall, silver and pale and edged with red, kept in sheathes until they're needed to kill. (At five years old he takes a needle and inks red into his own skin, sharp slashes like the cut of a knife on each cheek, and it’s the first time Uchiha Tajima ever looks at him and smiles.)

For a prompt on my Tumblr: omg Utakata and Haku making delicate icebubble art pieces in the winter and Zabuza scoffs at them but he still sits and watches them put the pieces together and even volunteers kubikiribocho sometimes because that hole at the end is a pretty good bubble ring.

“Oh?” Orochimaru asks sweetly, trying to judge the room they're in. Some sort of military headquarters, predictably. “They let me keep my doctorates? How kind. But I assume this wasn’t a test of how many low-level guards I could put in the morgue—” “Three,” the younger soldier standing at Danzō’s shoulder cuts in, righteous anger darkening his features. “Three in the morgue, six in the hospital.” “Oh my, you caught me on an off day.” Orochimaru gives the young man his best flirtatious smirk. “Come back tomorrow and I promise, I’ll at least double both counts.” (Or, that Suicide Squad!AU no one asked for and no one wanted, but I wrote anyway. I'm not sorry.)

As a last resort, they finally send Mikoto to talk to her. Kushina's not impressed, even though she has to admire their tenacity. They’ve tried three different elders, the woman who works at the ramen stand she likes almost as much as Teuchi’s, and Fugaku. Apparently, after the utter failure of that last one, they're attempting to pull out all the stops.

There's a monster whispering in Minato's head, curled around his soul. It’s vast and hungry and full of fury, radiates it and basks in it and lets it spill over through the bars that cage it. If Minato had one ounce more energy, he would rage too, but— Anger is a luxury right now, an indulgence. He can't afford it.

Orochimaru, Mito has come to realize, has a good many of the qualities that made her brother-in-law so fearsome, and she’s glad for it.

It should probably be more of a surprise than it is for Iruka to find his lover of fourteen months shivering on his doorstep, the blond little boy that Konoha has been searching so desperately for clutched in his arms.