#blank’s art commentary

[porcelainvino]

[PART TWO] the room where it happens (b!g animatic): artist’s commentary

continuing on…

[click here for part one]

• the b!g characters in the NDs follow kurt inside the choir room (the room where it happens if you will lol), cementing their dedication to the glee club over their other friends.

• although barely featured in this animatic, puck plays a big role in the final chapters of the story. here he’s the only one who thinks about talking it out with maud instead of leaving, but in the end, he hesitates and leaves anyway.

• maud realizes how the new directions, previously a safe haven for underdogs, has become a pretentious/power hungry entity, favoring winning over everything; this is kind of true in the story, but it’s also mildly exaggerated because that’s how maud is viewing the situation through her own point of view.

• at this point, maud has stopped recording her silly little vlog/documentary because “the revolution will not be televised” (as in change can only happen if one goes out and does something; rather than recording the NDs and passively waiting for it, like burr lmao, like she had in the past (there’s more to that but it’s too much to explain), for once, she goes and does something about her problems). she goes through previous group chats and texts, marking every time the new directions have made her life worse.

• basically maud’s hurt locker lol; includes all of the better!glee characters who are in the glee club.

• maud rallies all of her non-new directions friend’s and shows them how the NDs have wronged them (there’s more to that but it’s too much to explain). maud feels betrayed by them because they lied to her about getting let in, but that’s not necessarily the reason the rest of the group dislikes the new directions members. they all have their own reasons, but it all boils down to them blaming the glee club for ruining their friend group.

• maud rips the photo of the friend group in half, splitting up those in the new directions vs those not.

• in the end, maud leads a sort of “anti-glee club” revolution against her own friends.

conclusion:

yayyy the end! or at least the end of the animatic lol

there’s more smalllllll details i didn’t include in this post because they’re not necessary and/or self explanatory and/or i’m still not sure on where the plot is going, but i hope this explains some of it!!!!! if you’re wondering “who tf are half of these characters”, feel free to go through any of my better!glee/b!g tags, or send in an ask/dm for more info :3

[heartscrypt]

if you ever comment "i hate (blank) lol but cool art" on any artists post i hope you eat a C-4 and explode from the inside out

[look-at-the-stars-tonight]

I ran this morning AND wrote some AND made art and I’m so proud of me

[upsideoutinsidedown]

Will: “hey, you wanna see my latest work in progress?”

Mike, excitedly: “of course!”

Will: *hands him a blank canvas*

Mike: :’)

[canichangemyblogname]

^^^ screenshot of an anonymous ask that came across my feed.

I love this website. It’s so unserious.

And IDK what the best part of this take is. The idea that AI art doesn’t alienate artists from their labor, automize creativity, and further commercialize art? Or the idea that AI makes art more accessible to the working class?

Alexa. Play “leftist infighting in my comments.”

[drchucktingle]

to clarify about fan fiction

to clarify something chuck said in post about being PRO FAN FICTION, some buds have asked if i misspoke when i said ‘fan fiction is part of the original art’. i did not misspeak. i really truly believe this.

if i write a story and you read it an this moves you to paint a picture of snabe and harriet porber, that WHOLE EXPERIENCE FROM ME TO YOU is its own mixed media piece. the medium is motion (getting up and getting the paints) visual (painting) literary (reading the book in first place and then writing your own commentary when you post about it later). it is drama and performance. it is meditation. it is dance in its own way.

i very much mean this: art does not begin and end on the canvas or the page. it is what you had for breakfast the morning you wrote those words, or the story that stuck in your head after watching a show the night before. art is the buckaroo who was moved to pen a whole five page romance story about your characters having a kind picnic in the part.

we are here to create as we push back against the blank empty void, and we prove love is real every time we fill this blank space with little pieces of us. i will not stand in the way of that, and it is an honor to fill this space with this web of inspiration from one bud to the next. ALL OF THIS TIMELINE is a piece and we are one big writers room. there is no shame in this and it is a group project i am proud to be a part of.

[torawro]

I’D DIE FOR YOU (AND I HAVE). ( s.a. )

sousuke aizen & black!fem!reader.

cw ━━ ! minors, blank and ageless blogs DO NOT INTERACT. reader is portrayed as a black woman but you do not have to imagine her that way. using this map of the seireitei as a reference (i searched high and low for a consistent accurate one but it was hard). the first half is set pre-ryoka invasion / pre-soul society arc. the second half is aizen-centric (from his pov told from the 3rd person) and set post-tybw arc, years after he was sealed away in mugen, also including mention of events from vol. 1 of can't fear your own world (a light novel that's post-tybw & can be considered canonical); so all this being said: SPOILERS i guess???? of course you're welcome to read if you don't care about spoilers! somewhat based on 'die for you' by the weeknd & even more loosely based on 'dark red' by steve lacy. contains themes of heavy-ish angst, existential crises (?) & inner emotional turmoil within reader + aizen (separately). descriptions of character death, blood and violence. descriptions of manipulation/mind games. aizen is an unkind man. proofread (i did my best).

word count ━━ 11k

notes ━━ ! the way this fic was supposed to finished a month ago...but life once more gets in my way. and the way that it's this long....i anticipated the max being 10k but i greatly underestimated how long it would take to flesh out my idea. anywho i'm somewhat reentering my bleach era again. i’m not sure what it is but character analyses in the form of fanfiction is my jam rn like i really enjoyed writing this (i got tired of the length by like... 7k words lmao) but i like how this turned out. i've watched & read quite a bit of content that provide explanations as to why aizen is the way he is so i wanted to try my own portrayal of that in the context of canonical events. how i characterized him here is partially inspired by a fic i read about him last year so shout out to them for their support :D i hope i've depicted and humanized aizen well ♡. reblogs + commentary are heavily appreciated!!!!!

THE PAD OF YOUR THUMB SLOWLY glided against your bottom lip, the lingering aftertaste of jasmine tea still on its surface and on your breath. The absentminded motion of your thumb caressing your mouth, as if in deep contemplation, continued as you stared at the clock hanging on the wall above you.

It was past eleven, and the midnight hour only continued to draw near as time sustained its temporal march. And there you sat at your desk, floating in the limbo of your mind that was filled with hesitancy and admittedly, budding anticipation.

Your gaze lowered to the now empty porcelain cup, nothing remaining of its contents except the shriveled remnants of herbs and a few wayward drops of the brew.

Your senior comrade, captain Sōsuke Aizen, was correct in his prediction that you'd take a liking to its floral and delicate taste when he gifted you a jar full of the jasmine tea leaves as well as other ingredients.

The captain of Squad 5 seemed to be correct about a lot of things.

His intelligence and foresight, along with his kind and politely witty disposition, were qualities that you found somewhat charming, and gradually drew you closer to him.

Being the current third seat of the 9th company, your barracks and those of squad 5's were relatively close to each other's, so often you'd catch glimpses of and run into Captain Aizen on a pretty normal basis. Over the years, the conversations that bounced between the two of you expanded past the realm of formalities between a higher and lower ranking officer, and instead ranged in territories from literature, to art, to food & drink, and even to the politics of the government for which they were soldiers for.

Sometimes, you found it hard to believe that you managed to befriend a man like him. A man who seems to have mastered the balance between being a gentle soul, helpful to others, but also possessed enough refined power and skills to be named a captain within the Gotei 13.

Especially a man who wasn’t even of your own squad.

Despite the increasingly friendly relations and generally pleasant conversation, there were few moments where Aizen's words didn't feel quite. . . . real━ he didn't feel real. He spoke eloquently, often relying on figurative language to further illustrate his point and to breathe meaning into seemingly plain and meaningless words. But at times those words, his tone felt stained; stained with some substance or color you couldn't quite place. An enigmatic façade was painted over his speech, and it took too much mental capacity to try and find your own meaning in it.

So you'd often brush it off. Your over-reliance on your own reasoning that 'you weren’t able to come to a conclusion because there is no problem a conclusion could be generated from' successfully quieted your mind’s voice. You'd also frequently blame exhaustion, or your newfound hobby of watching human psychological crime shows during your off days for these subconscious ideas you had.

But you feared that the request Aizen made of you yesterday, the source of your current predicament, couldn't be blamed on any of those things. You looked at the clock again before returning to stare at your empty tea cup. For what reason could Sōsuke Aizen wish to meet you outside of the 1st division barracks? Specifically at this hour? You immediately thought of his question as uncharacteristic of him but prevented yourself from jumping to any further conclusions.

Aizen was a reasonable man, and you were sure there was a reasonable explanation.

With a final sigh of acquiescence, you stood up from your sitting position to retie your yukata before slipping a thicker, dark colored haori on top. You were unsure how cold it was this late at night or how long you'd be out, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

You paused for a moment, glancing longingly at your vanity mirror a few times, clearly torn between a decision, before giving in with a soft groan. Grabbing your favorite perfume, you quickly spritzed the spray onto both your inner wrists, either sides of your neck, and stray areas on your clothes. You’d proceed to make sure your hair was in order and your lips were as moisturized and glossy as a pair of tear-filled eyes before making your way to the door and slipping on your sandals.

Meeting with a captain— with Aizen of all people— in the dead of night resembled too closely to forbidden lovers rendezvousing under a fruit tree to fulfill their desires of embracing one another, with no one but the moon as their witness. The comparison alone caused the apples of your cheeks to burst aflame with embarrassment, and you lightly chastised yourself for even indulging in such an inappropriate train of thought. Such a scenario seemed far too deluded to even be considered ‘wishful thinking’.

But those delusions still seemed to make more sense than whatever other conclusion you have yet to reach.

Making your way out of your personal quarters, you activated your shunpo technique, stealthily hopping from one rooftop to the other in an effort to make it to Squad 1 barracks quicker.

After several minutes, your mind mostly engulfed with the 'what if's', the soles of your sandals finally touched ground, and you stood a few feet away from the massive walls and bridges that connected to and from the barracks. Even at night you were able to make out the bold-printed kanji for the number 1 that was painted on the building.

When you arrived, even from a nearby rooftop, you didn't see anyone around. Feelings of confusion and worry began to creep up and flicker to life in your mind.

But, as if your thoughts were as audible, you felt a light breeze of wind behind you, a familiar sound that indicated someone had made their presence known.

Startled, you reflexively reached for your zanpakuto, when you remembered that you hadn't even brought it with you. It still laid against the wall near your bed, just where you placed it earlier when you were relieved of your duties for the day.

You didn't think you needed it necessarily if you were just going to meet with Aizen, hence why taking it with you slipped your mind.

The flickers of concern were swiftly extinguished as your brain caught up with your body upon realizing who just appeared. A relieved sigh left your lips, a breath of air that seemed to release all the tension that had a grip on your heart and wound tight within your muscles. "Ah! Good evening Captain Aizen. You caught me off guard for a moment there."

"My apologies, that was not at all my intention." The Fifth Division Captain sported a dark colored scarf, his long captain's coat and the standard shihakushō all Gotei officers were supposed to wear. In the sash around his waist resided his own sheathed zanpakuto. His tawny hair maintained its usual part but looked slightly tousled, yet still remaining so in a meticulous fashion that made it look intentional.

The state of his hair alone, and his current facial expression made Aizen look more . . . approachable if that’s how you were to describe it. There was a glint in his eyes that you had seldom seen before.

"Thank you, for making your way down here to accommodate my rather. . . . atypical request. I again extend my apologies if I have inconvenienced you in any way."

You shook your head in reply, "It's alright, I wasn't doing anything too important anyway. Just having a cup of tea and delighting myself in a book before bed."

You glanced downwards at the foot or so of space that was wedged in between the two of you. You forced away the murmurs of your lingering thoughts that took note of how the moonlight and shadows danced across the surface of Aizen's face just right, and emphasized his decidedly handsome features.

"But having a complete and good night's rest is important to be fully functional in all areas of one's performance. Wouldn't you agree?"

You couldn't help but chuckle softly. "Yes, I do agree with that sentiment."

Aizen all but hummed in acknowledgement, letting a moment of silence fill the air before speaking again.

"Shall we be on our way?"

You nodded in agreement, following him as the both of you walked about the First Division grounds. From what you could tell based on your position, your aimless nightly stroll drew you closer to where Sokyoku Hill was located. The area became increasingly more grassy and contained less buildings.

Although Squad 1 grounds weren't terribly far from either of your barracks, you still weren't sure as to why Captain Aizen wished to meet out here. Initially you thought that perhaps he was just fond of this particular scenery, but really it could have been anything.

But still, you believed Aizen always had a purpose for everything he did.

After several moments, his warm voice replaced the evening silence, vocalizing your current thoughts. “I assume you are contemplating why it is I have asked you here, and I’m afraid the reason is quite benign. Truthfully, I just wished for your company. I often go on night walks to clear my head after a long day and thought I might invite you to join me this time, and have a conversation with each other."

Your brows shifted upwards, for that was not quite the answer you were expecting. It seemed too . . . simple. “Really? You just . . . wanted to talk with me? Plainly?”

The Squad 5 captain let out a short, soft laugh at the disbelief that was painted on your face. There was an expression of fondness present in his eyes and in the light smile he offered you. “Yes, exactly. I quite enjoy our discussions actually, they’re intellectually stimulating and relatively pleasant. You crossed my mind, and before yesterday, it has been quite some time since we’ve had the opportunity to unwind and talk.”

You hummed an mhmm in agreement, tearing your eyes away from Aizen’s side profile in favor of the hem of his captain’s haori, watching how it danced in the soft breeze. It seemed to be less distracting than the way Aizen peered down at you from time to time.

"I see. I am. . . . truly flattered by your words, Captain Aizen; you're too kind. Forgive me for asking but," you took longer strides so that you could fall into step next to him━ as if to speak to him more directly, "Why at this time? To talk with me, I mean. It couldn't wait until more . . . . . conventional hours?"

He chuckled again, and answered as smoothly as if he were awaiting you to ask him that. "Unfortunately, today's tasks ran a little long today, so I had to stay at my office later than usual." The spectacled man paused for a moment, before setting his soft gaze on you, "And besides, that completely defeats the purpose of inviting you on a night stroll, doesn't it?"

You ignored the heat flaring up in your cheeks again. Your mind refused to move past the fact that you had crossed Sōsuke Aizen's mind enough times━ or the times that he thought about you were significant enough━ and highly enough to invite you into his realm and indulge in these moments with him, when he very much could have done that alone.

A tender smile appeared on your lips, more towards yourself than the man next to you. "I. . . suppose it does."

The ashen-white moon only rose higher in the sky, providing an ambiance of tranquility as the both of you talked about whatever crossed the surface of your minds. Other times, the stillness of the night did the talking, and you'd listen to the leaves, and the wind, and the crickets sing together in harmony. Gradually as you walked and the beaten path grew more narrow, your figures drew closer together, until you could feel the long sleeves of his haori brush against your own.

You hadn't noticed that the two of you eventually stopped walking and paused under a tree until Aizen struck up conversation once more. When he called out your name in that gentle, velvety voice, you swore your heart was going to lurch out of your chest. The sound of your name rolled of his tongue so smoothly, the desire to hear it again grew within you.

"Uh━ yes, Captain Aizen?"

"Are you satisfied with way things are at the moment?"

You stood next to him, perplexed at his inquiry due to its vague nature. "Um, what. . . . things? I'm afraid I don't understand what you're asking."

The wind brushed Aizen's dark ochre tresses across his face as he took a step towards you, like the breeze itself was pushing him towards you. "Hm, perhaps I should be more clear then. Are you content with being a soul reaper? Are you satisfied with being a soldier for the Soul Society?"

With your brows slightly furrowed in thought, you remained silent for several seconds and overanalyzed his every word, trying to predict where he might be steering the conversation now. The longer you thought it over, the stronger that nagging feeling from within your soul became. The one that often told you what he was asking wasn't exactly . . . it didn't quite feel . . . . .

"This feels like a prelude to another insightful discussion on Shinigami━ and by extension━ Seiretei politics." Your words cut off your own thoughts, as if your mind was trying to sweep something under the proverbial rug.

Aizen huffed in amusement, before lightly shrugging, leaving your statement definitively unanswered.

You sighed as you seriously considered his question this time. "I mean sure, I guess. I'm somewhat satisfied with my job and all of . . . this," gesturing your hands in the air around you to emphasize your point. The 5th Division Captain made another humming noise, indicating that you still had his full attention. He inched a little closer into your personal space.

The mere action caused your next words to die in your throat and a quiet chuckle resounded from his, before your thoughts revived themselves again.

"Of course things could always be better but. . . . y'know. This is just how it is." You weren't quite sure if you should voice negative opinions about the Soul Society so plainly to a senior officer, even if he was the one who asked you in the first place, so you treaded lightly.

The same plainly relaxed smile from earlier remained painted across his lips, held in his chestnut irises was an emotion akin to affection. He seemed somewhat pleased that you were expressing your thoughts with him.

“And you? Are you satisfied, Captain Aizen?” You were unable to keep the teasing endearment out of your tone as you returned his gaze, casting aside the notions of Gotei officer seating and ranks for the moment. The air seemed like it shifted━ towards what, you weren't sure of━ but it kind of made you feel like you were adrift, floating in isolation from everything else around you.

It was still hard to process that you were alone with Captain Aizen right now. . . . at night.

A low hum reverberated within his chest, contemplative in nature as he replied, “Perhaps.”

The wind whistled lowly again, erecting goosebumps on whatever part of your skin happened to catch the midnight breeze. You fought the instinctual urge to twitch towards the nearest source of heat, which happened to be Aizen. Now that would be even more wholly inappropriate than the 'lovers meeting at midnight' scenario.

The silence between the both of you was brief, but comfortable nonetheless. Once more his mellifluous voice cut through the quiet, leveled and calm, like still ocean waters.

“Come. I want to show you something,” Aizen reached his arm out towards you, your spine as straight as if someone stuck a metal rod dipped in ice water down your robes.

The captain's movements seemed steady and slow━ it had felt like time itself had hesitated for several moments. You thought he was going to . . . . well you weren't sure what he was going to do, and that's what you made you nervous.

Was he going to touch you? Cradle your cheek? Remove a stray leaf that happened to land on your head? You were left somewhat dangling in anticipation, not daring to flinch backwards because you felt it would be disrespectful or offensive. You hadn't even blinked, subconsciously fearing that this was only a very vivid daydream.

But alas, when his arm drew near it extended past your head, slightly above you, and held a small branch in his palm it like a delicate flower. You released a breath you didn't know you were holding, but that breath drew short again when your gaze was eye level with his lower neck and chin.

He seemed . . . . closer.

“I think that regarding the condition of the Soul Society," Aizen began in a quiet voice, referencing his own reply to his earlier question, "and therefore my thoughts about it, is akin to this set of leaves on this branch."

Snapping out of whatever stupor you seemed to have slipped in, you exhaled softly before stepping back a bit to look at what he was talking about. In his palm he cradled a wayward branch that grew from one of the other sturdier branches of the tree. The green foliage of its arms had started to weaken and dull in color. The cold air due to the seasonal transition to autumn caused the leaves become brittle, nearing closer to the edge of death.

The sound of just how brittle they were resounded in the air when Aizen thumbed the leaves in between his fingertips, observing their texture with pity laced in his small movements.

"These leaves will fall off as it gets colder. And soon, the rest of this tree will be bare as well. When the time comes, when the right circumstances fall into place, the old die to make way and usher in the new; it's simply the way things are. I think of the Soul Society government is structured in a similar manner."

You hung onto his every word, like he were imparting crucial wisdom to you. Even though you were a bit confused on the last part, and on the connection between dying leaves and Soul Society, you still listened intently, waiting for him bridge the gap between the two.

"The Soul Society as it is now can be thought of as a season. And this particular season, this climate has remained so for several centuries. How can nature continue━ how can we continue to progress when the old have yet to be washed away by the currents of time? It defies that of nature, yes?" He directed this question at you specifically, in search of your agreement.

You nodded your head, tearing your gaze away from the branch and directed it at the grass beneath your feet. Your brows furrowed a little as you mused over Aizen's words. He gave a rather ambiguous answer before but now, his words sounded like vague displeasure and muted criticism. Everyone was entitled to their opinion, and on some fronts, you'd sometimes agreed with the 5th Division Captain. The Soul Society was far from perfect, too much emphasis on nobility and status, the government resembled too closely to an oligarchy . . . But you didn't━ wouldn't voice these thoughts, though.

Instead you hummed quietly under your breath. There was that tugging sensation again. This time it told you that there was something deeper to this conversation than meets the eye. But what could there be? Was there anything at all or were you just overthinking it?

The voice-like sensation in your soul was calling out to you, but you couldn't hear it that well or quite make out what it was saying. It's as if someone was calling out to you in a crowded room that had music playing on the speakers: you felt like if you listened hard enough you could make it out but ultimately, the result would fruitless.

"And when that happens," Aizen continued, "sometimes nature has to be gently nudged back on track to keep things moving smoothly. That may require . . . shaking the tree. Pulling a few harmful weeds from one's garden, so to speak."

"Weeds?" You echoed. You felt like you understood this analogy and therefore what he was trying to say, but at the same time you didn't. Or was it . . . . you didn't want to understand what he was implying?

Because if you were interpreting his words correctly, if he were inconspicuously comparing the higher-ups and the government itself to dying leaves and harmful plants that needed to be removed, then . . . .

"You, dear child, are a mere weed in this scenario."

Wait, what did he just━

Your thoughts were cut short when a gush of air that smelt strongly of Aizen━ warm oak, vanilla, and a kind of musk that you weren't sure how to describe but was still pleasant all the same━ brushed against your face and took you by surprise.

But there was another aroma that arose, steadily becoming more apparent alongside the increasingly painful throbbing feeling you felt in your abdomen.

It smelt metallic. And it was something that you've smelt all too many times before.

It was blood.

Your gaze that was initially narrowed in confusion lowered as it followed the source of this pain. Your eyes slowly widened in as you struggled to comprehend the blade that was currently ran through your torso.

Aizen's blade.

"Actually, instead of weeds, a more accurate and befitting analogy perhaps would be blades of grass. You unfortunately have to step on them in order to reach the weeds you want to remove."

You couldn't really focus on what the captain was saying, because your brain was still struggling to process what the hell just happened. Your hands slowly rose from their sides and shakily grazed the zanpakuto, wanting to believe that if you touched it, it would pass right through your fingers like mist. But no, the sensation of cold steel was as real as the robes you wore on your back. You only just now are processing the muffled squelching sound of his sword impaling your flesh.

You wanted to scream, to cry in pain, to vomit, to push him off━ something. But all you could do was stand there, stunned, words completely failing you. "Wh. . . . what? Why did . . . . you . . . . "

A cough replaced your attempt at a comprehensive sentence, and you tasted iron in your mouth.

Fuck....was this really happening?

"Please don't push yourself trying to talk," His voice was like an index finger to one's lips, similar to a parent's gentle caress to quiet and sooth their child, "You'll only hasten your death. And I'm sure you wish to know the reason for my killing you, yes? You'd have to be alive for that."

'Killing me?' 'My death?' The certainty that rang in his words chilled the blood in your veins, and they confirmed the one conclusion you hoped wouldn’t come true: that you were going to die.

The frigid embrace of fear and dread engulfed you from behind and you shivered, causing the blade snugly lodged in your organs to shift. The pain of that foreign object moving even a little bit shot through your entire body, causing a groan to emerge from your throat.

Desperate to conserve your energy and the oxygen that was becoming a little harder to take in, your breathing became uneven and a little wheezed. Even then, you couldn’t bring yourself to meet the gaze of Captain Aizen to confirm if this was really happening or just an extremely realistic and vivid nightmare. The sight you might be greeted with could be more frightening than the actual impaling of his sword.

As if his betrayal couldn’t actually or figuratively cut you any deeper, just then there was a noise that grew louder and louder within a matter of seconds until it was almost deafening. You’ve distinguished it to be the sound of glass crackling.

Your surroundings formed cracks everywhere on its surface, like it was just an oversized window. Even on the grass you stood on, or what you thought was grass, began to crumble away.

A dumbfounded but panicked look was plastered on your face when your world literally shattered around you, the only remnants of it being you and the Captain.

What was underneath the mirage━ or you should say, the fact that it was a mirage at all━ only disturbed you and increased your perplexity.

Slightly hunched over and breathing heavily, it took a minute to process where you were, but you noticed that now the two of you stood in a formal room that looked like it was used for important meetings. The lights in the room slowly started to brighten, most likely due to motion sensors. Even with Aizen's scent lingering in your nose, you could still pick out a rather stale aroma that hung in the air like dead fruit that hadn't fallen off the tree.

"Is . . . this Cen . . . tral━ "

"You are correct. Where we currently stand is the assembly hall for Central 46, the judicial power of the Soul Society. All judiciary as well as legislative trials and proceedings are held here."

All around the room were seats with partitions, the kanji for 1 through 46 printed on them. In the seat for the 19th member, your gaze caught onto something on the translucent barrier. It was a little farther up so you had to squint your already blurring vision to see it properly.

You saw, and your heart promptly sank as a result, eyes widening once more.

There were splatters of a dark colored substance on the partition━ undeniably blood. And the lithe, bony fingers of an older man laid lifeless, peeking out from the side of the screen like the appendages themselves were trying to escape from the body they were attached to.

That man . . . was dead. That stale aroma you smelt was the stench of death.

It was only after that unsettling epiphany did your eyes dart frantically around the room and realize that every member of Central 46 was dead.

The disturbed expression on your face only intensified as your stare was pulled back down to where Aizen's blade still resided in your body.

" Cap.....Aizen," you uttered, swift to correct yourself. All the moisture in your throat dried up like water underneath the unrelenting rays of the sun. You kept gulping your saliva in an attempt to assuage the sensation, but relief only last for a fleeting few seconds. "Did you ━ you killed them . . . didn't you?" Your question was laced with shaky hesitance and swelled with apprehension, fearing that you already knew his reply even before he answered.

There was a moment of silence and a hum before he replied. "Smart girl."

The muted mirthful tone in his voice sounded like sarcasm, and it was enough to finally draw your attention away from everything else and directly look at him. Almost instantly, you regretted it.

His umber tinted gaze was colder than you remembered. You couldn't find anything in his eyes that hinted that all of this was just a big misunderstanding, or a dream, or that Aizen had a secret sense dark and complex humor.

This was your first, and apparently your last time, that you have ever felt a fear such as this. Your mind was struggling to comprehend this was the same Aizen that spoke with you so gently, full of encouragement and wisdom. The same man that recommended you books to read and gifted you tea to drink and gazed upon you like . . .

Well, none of that mattered now. In this moment, Sōsuke Aizen wasn't the same man anymore. This Sōsuke Aizen was someone else, and it frightened you.

"When?" you croaked, your voice no longer sounding like your own. Nothing felt real anymore. "W-When did you . . . . . how? Why?"

Another noncommittal hum resounded from the spectacled man as he closed his eyes, feigning the action of thinking of an answer. When he reopened them, his narrow gaze returned to you.

"Everyone in the Thirteen Court Guard Squads was previously aware that the ability of my zanpakuto, Kyoka Suigetsu, allowed me to confuse the enemy using bodies of water, mist and even moisture in the air in order to attack. However, that is not my zanpakuto's actual power; there is more to it than just simple confusion. Kyoka Suigetsu's true power is Complete Hypnosis. Essentially, when someone looks at my blade, I am then able to take control of that person’s five senses, causing them to believe that something is real ━ or that something isn't real. In a way, once glancing at my unsheathed zanpakuto, that person forfeits their sense of existence to me. Kyoka Suigetsu is quite flawless in its deceptive abilities."

A heavy silence, aside from your uneven breaths, endured in the space between both of you. You didn't need him to spell out what he was trying to say.

It was all . . . . an illusion. A convoluted, premeditated illusion. And you walked right into it without even knowing or considering, that it was all fake.

The Fifth Division Captain inwardly smiled at the despair clearly written on your face as he watched you mentally put the pieces together. He took your lack of reply as a sign to continue. "The members of Central 46 have unfortunately been dead for quite some time now. And as for your question of why......"

The taller man stepped towards you which inadvertently (or purposely, you began to fear), drove his sword deeper into your abdomen without warning and slight force. You bit down on your bottom lip hard to stifle your exclamation of pain. In an attempt to somehow resist him, with the little strength you had left, your hands automatically took purchase in his oversized sleeves, but it did nothing. You found it ironic that you could feel how warm Aizen was underneath his robes, but his soul was anything but.

" . . . . I believe I already mentioned it earlier, yes? All flowers die eventually and the weeds......must be removed."

At that moment you remembered that tugging sensation that told you something felt off in some instances whenever you talked with Aizen. This must have been what it was. Damn it all. You still didn't understand exactly what bad things Central 46 and the Soul Society have done to cause his actions, but based on what you've been told and your current position, it must have been heinous. Again, you actively swallowed the urge to vomit.

"You . . . you lied. I can't believe━ how could it have all b-been a lie?" Another nasty cough rattled your body, followed by a shiver and a groan.

The brown-haired man slightly tilted his head, like he was truly confused. "Lied? Hmm, well. I suppose you could put it that way based on your limited knowledge of the circumstances, but I wouldn't put it that way. Besides, this isn't really about truth or lies. It is, and always has been, only about the reality of what is. And what is, is that you were unable to anticipate my deception. No one could, because it was outside the domain of your thoughts. What is, is that the current way the Soul Society operates is tainted, and I shall be the one to remedy it."

You drew another shuddering breath and looked down at the ground with a grim expression as your blood continued to pool at your feet. Briefly, you even considered unsheathing yourself from his blade and take the chance to make a run for it, but the chances of you making it to the outside world, let alone coming across someone before you bled out and died were slim. Besides, it was clear that you couldn't even trust your own senses anymore after Aizen demonstrated that he had complete control of your reality.

Which reminded you of something else.

" . . . when?" you asked the same question again, but much quieter than before, despair palpable in your voice. 'When and how did you subject me to your zanpakuto's Complete Hypnosis?', is what you were really asking. And being as intelligent as he was, the spectacled man understood.

Abruptly, with a large palm on the small of your back, Aizen used his gentle hold grip to pull you towards him in order to close the remaining distance, causing him to drive the remaining length of his zanpakuto all the way through until the tsuba of his blade rested against your stomach. You looked like a skewered piece of meat.

You didn't have the willpower to hold back the piercing shriek of agony and physical anguish as tears sprung forth from your eyes. You could no longer tell if your blurry vision was due to your tears obstructing your sight or if it was from being a step away from death's door.

"Do you remember . . . the first time we met?"

The hand that rested on your lower back slowly glided upwards until his fingers found your jaw. With a tenderness that reminded you of a time before his betrayal, he lifted your chin and guided your gaze to look at him directly. His thumb moved to graze your bottom lip just as you've done mere hours ago━ as if he knew that, as if he watched you do it. His thumb was dangerously close to slipping inside your mouth and that both excited and scared you. Your breasts against his, your breaths synchronized with his, your body and his were fully pressed against each other and it made focusing on his question more difficult.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. The first time . . . we met? Sure, with a little bit of effort you could easily recall the first time you formally met Aizen. It was sometime in the spring, and you remembered him running through combat formations with his lieutenant and the rest of his squad. But why d━

A silent gasp left you. Another epiphany, another figurative blade piercing your heart.

Battle formations, and he . . . offered you to join them . . . his zanpakuto . . . . .

Confusion crumbled away, and was replaced with vacant horror and sadness. It seems you've already been defeated, for many, many years now.

Aizen seemed to murmur something under his breath, a pleased sound you couldn't quite decipher. His mouth brushed over yours, rendering you literally speechless, before he closed the distance and brought your lips together. You could barely process what was happening.

It was ironically tragic how soft and skillfully gentle his lips were against yours. The kiss felt longing, like a departure between two sweethearts and their last meeting together. It also felt heavy and final, making you want to cry.

And you did. Silent tears streamed from your eyes and rolled onto the fingers that still held your face so affectionately. The captain reacted by guiding your chin up a little further, dipping his head a little lower, so he could deepen the kiss. You weakly scorned yourself for thinking about how the two of you must really look like lovers now, sans the sword sticking out from your back.

Oh, how cruel this was; how cruel he was. It was cruel for him to kiss you like this, hand still splayed on your back like he needed to touch you stay sane. And how cruel it was that still managed to enjoy it, even as you stood there dying. Your lips moved together in tandem, slow and almost passionate, all while tears stained the apples of your cheeks, drying up the plush youth that once resided in them.

Aizen's tongue had slithered its way into your mouth, and you suddenly felt like crying harder. There was a tart, sweet flavor lingering on his tastebuds, and you absently wondered what is was. Perhaps hibiscus from tea, you surmised. And he too tasted the sweet jasmine and citrus that clung your tongue and lips. At this, he chuckled quietly into your mouth, humming before retracting from you by a few inches so he could speak.

"I knew you would like the tea. It's sweet and flavorful, isn't it?" You hated how low his voice was, how its timbre pleasurably vibrated and rumbled against your lips, and you hated that lidded stare he gave you. You again thought it unfair that you couldn't even revel in the rare sight of Aizen's lips slightly wet because your lips were intertwined with his.

"I have to thank you for humoring me and my recommendations. I really appreciated it. And I also," you winced loudly and cried out in affliction as Aizen finally began to withdraw the sword from your body, "must to bid you farewell now. It seems you don't have any more time left, and this has dragged on for longer than it needed. I'm not surprised you've held out for this long, as I already knew you possessed commendable strength. But alas it wasn't enough. I am sorry that you have to die; it's rather regrettable that you happened to be that blade of grass that ended up underneath my foot."

Another wail was yanked from your chest as he steadily removed his sword from your abdomen. The pain was becoming excruciating, you would have collapsed by now if the taller man weren't holding you.

You saw two things before the light in your eyes had all but faded away. The first were the colors of faux pity and apathy that swirled in Sōsuke Aizen's irises, spiraling like a storm that was certain to wreak havoc in its wake. His gaze was devoid of any regret or remorse; the final metaphorical nail on the coffin. The second was a small smile.

But this wasn't one of his smiles you were familiar with. No wait . . . . the one you knew was simply a veneer of what is.

This smile was slanted, the corners of his lips tilted upwards and was sharp. Sharp enough to cut open your already gaping wound further and completely tear you apart, spelling out your demise. It looked insidious as if it were hiding razor-edged fangs. This was what is; Aizen's real smile.

"I. . . I see. Aize. . . ." were the last words you were able to manage. You didn't have the strength to be upset or hurt any longer, so you gave in to the exhaustion.

Your body permanently relaxed, long lashes veiling your now empty eyes as your arms lifelessly dropped to your sides. The captain found a disturbing amount of pleasure in his name being the final word you attempted to speak before succumbing to the sleep of death.

And even after the fact, the facade of doomed, star-crossed lovers persisted as your body slumped backwards. Aizen's strong forearm wrapped tightly around your waist being the only reason you didn't fall to the ground in a puddle of your own blood.

That day was the last anyone saw of you, your zanpakuto still laid idly in your room, its spirit destined to forever wander in the afterlife between worlds alone, eventually fading from existence without ever feeling the presence of its master again.

They had declared you missing by the end of the next day. Lieutenant Hisagi was probably the most perturbed about your sudden disappearance. Days, weeks passed, and they never located you. The Gotei 13 was left unsettled by the lack of progress, but ultimately had to rule your case inconclusive. Some believed that you were simply killed by a stray hollow, or even ran away from your duties because of the stress.

The news of what happened spread like wildfire across all the squads, that a high-ranked officer just up and vanished without a trace. The spirits and morale of the thirteen companies dampened, sorrow and worry swelling like a festering boil.

And that boil burst when Ryoka infiltrated the Soul Society, and when it was revealed that all of it was carefully orchestrated by Sōsuke Aizen.

Like a blade of grass that somehow snuck into one's sandals or in between their toes, during his time in Hueco Mundo, images of you flashed in his head at unexpected times when his mind was quiet. He'd remove the grass, tossed you aside, and moved on with his day. There was no room for you in the grand scheme of things. Such reminisces were beneath someone like him.

And yet.

He'd always find another piece of grass from the greenery he stepped on whenever he advanced a step in his plans. There you were again.

It was common knowledge that if you kept repeating the same action over and over, it will eventually wear you down.

━━━━━━ 鏡  ━━━━━━━

It was dark, and there was nothing.

There had been nothing for quite a long time now. Utter darkness and the abyssal shade of black engulfed every inch of Aizen's body and surroundings.

He saw nothing, the seals over his eyes too opaque to let anything through. And even if they weren't obscuring his vision, he would barely be able to see three feet in front of him; there was seldom a few lanterns in his cell to begin with. He felt nothing but the bindings that kept him imprisoned in one of the deepest pits of the Seireitei. At times it felt like even his internal organs had stilled in their functions. He heard nothing but the unrelenting quiet of his cell within Mugen's maw. The only thing that served as proof that he hasn't spontaneously grown deaf yet was the occasional muffled noise that originated from outside of the entrance. And even then, he could hardly hear much of anything.

Such is an ironic fate for someone who, with a stray thought and a glint of his blade, could control someone's senses and take away their free will to experience those senses in their reality. And now, he was stripped away of all of his in nearly every capacity.

Sōsuke Aizen was rendered stationary and stagnant, qualities he detested and were the antithesis of his ambitions and plans, perhaps even his existence.

Aizen had always believed in being in control of your own destiny and making your own choices; if you had the opportunity and the power to change something━ especially if it was something that was wrong, unfair or immoral━ then one should be able to move towards that goal by making change, even if by force. The former captain had always been intentional about his actions and his desires right from the start.

And yet, here he ended up.

Spending years strapped to a chair in this dark, cloistered hole, Aizen had nothing but time to reflect the reason for his arrest: that orange haired Ryoka boy, Ichigo Kurosaki. He had nothing but time to admit to himself and settle on the conclusion that his last battle with the substitute Shinigami . . . did something to him.

Fighting the Ryoka boy ignited something inside him that he previously believed would forever lay dormant.

The thrill of a challenge.

Adrenaline was injected into his veins with each clash of their swords, spreading far and wide across every inch of his body. It no longer reacted in the measured, calculative manner he had programmed it to, but with unadulterated, pure instinct and raw power━ all in an effort to not only withstand such potent spirit energy from his opponent, but to come out on top and win.

It made him feel alive.

Aizen's desire to be the victor in battle and in his philosophy━ to prove himself right━ both fueled him and consumed him so thoroughly it led to his own downfall. That was a rather difficult fact to acknowledge; so much so his head started to pulsate intensely whenever it crossed his mind one time too often.

All of it unfolded right in front of his eyes and yet . . . he didn't really see it happen.

As time passed during his perpetual incarceration, with hooded eyes, the former captain spent an unfathomable amount of time tossing and turning every single event that led him to this underground prison, even pondering his temporary release by the Head Captain Kyōraku to fight in the war. Scenarios both minor and significant displayed itself in front of his mind's eye as if he were watching a film.

Every so often, a blurred visage of your image would make a brief appearance, like the flickering sparks of a match before they were able to come to light, fading away into the void and were overshadowed by his other thoughts. It was as if his own consciousness and intentionally muted any manifestations of your existence in his memories. As if he wasn't able to or allowed to see them━ to remember you for too long.

Mentally reliving moments from the last several months, years, decades, centuries━ trying to analyze each moment and decipher where it could have went wrong━ turned out to be quite an exhausting task. His mind and body would grow heavier with inertia, and eventually he would succumb to the alluring pull of slumber. After some time he would rouse from his sleep, and continued from where he left off.

These were his daily activities day in and day out (even though he had trouble distinguishing day and night in his chambers) for years. He saw a positive side to it though. He'd instead think of it has him getting stronger because he had spent so long . . . thinking. Ruminating. Contemplating every possibility in the past, present, and future. His mind would become as sharp as his zanpakuto.

Aizen had always been intentional about what he did, what he said, and how he conducted himself. He was sure in his abilities to orchestrate an image━ a belief for others to have faith in, and act on it in order to further his goals. He was always sure in that image, knowing who he was and what he stood for.

Or at least, that's what he thought.

Aizen wasn't consciously aware that his certainty in this crafted image had already begun to waver. He could not and was unable to anticipate how severe these small fractures had become until after a certain lieutenant paid him a visit outside his cell of confinement, right before he was scheduled to be thrown back into that dark hole of the Mugen.

Lieutenant Shuhei Hisagi was quite emotive when he burst through the doors. His expressions were contorted in volatile mixture of frustration, anger and sadness. His emotions were every which way, directed at everything that has happened so far, including himself. He was especially emotive at Aizen specifically for what he did to former captain Kaname Tosen and 'corrupting him with his twisted ideals.'

Aizen found amusement in that.

Before he was rolled away by the punishment force and therefore out of earshot, a particular set of Hisagi's words caused the small, content smile on his lips to uncurl ever so slightly. "Everything . . . and everyone that has ever gotten themselves involved with you has been trampled on by you and your ideals one way or another, and they all end up dead. If you think what you did to Captain Tosen was justified━ to call it mercy . . . . . then there is truly no justice in this world. You will . . . forever be the enemy in my eyes."

There was a trembling anger in his voice. Pain that wanted to cry out and be set free but, the thin lid of reason prevented it from doing so. And after a moment of silence, the corners of Aizen's lips curved upwards once more. A little bemused, a little more wolfish this time. He maliciously imagined Hisagi's reaction if he ever discovered the true reason for your disappearance.

But instead, all he said was. "What an interesting thing to say, Shuhei Hisagi. Your conviction is admirable." Any evidence of emotion that might have been reflected in his sepia irises was swallowed up and obscured by the darkness of the Mugen's jaw.

The cracks in Aizen's sense of self, in his beliefs, in the image he invented started to cave under the weight of Hisagi's words before he himself realized it was happening. They were like stains in the fabric of his mind that refused to come out.

What puzzled him more, was that with each attempt to figure out just why Hisagi's words echoed in his mind, they all lead back to you, the third seat of the 9th squad. Annoyingly so.

The tattooed lieutenant hadn’t said anything particularly profound ━ at least, Aizen didn't think so. Your name didn’t even fall from his lips. So why were memories of you and your likeness the only clear thoughts he could make of Hisagi's speech? Was it because he was aware of how close the two of you were? He doubted the reason were that trivial and insignificant.

His thoughts grew more discordant by the day, his soul a little more weighted than usual. Perhaps these new seals that Urahara had fashioned actually had an effect on him, Aizen thought. It made sense. His intellect, other than his own, were the only ones capable of creating such effective restraints.

After a while, he had a revelation. This was a different kind of weight.

This heaviness, the closest word he knew to describe it as . . . . was loneliness.

Time taunted him as it seemed to drag on━ Aizen grew even less sure of how much━ when he came to this realization. Hisagi's words were a clear mirror to the loneliness that echoed within him after what happened to you and to Tosen. It was so . . . potent, that it seemed to strike some chord in Aizen he had never heard before.

Such a chord, this sound of loneliness, it was strange and uncomfortable; he wasn't very fond of this sensation. He'd try to scrub it away, but it was all for naught.

His eyes had slid shut at some point, his ruminations leading to dead ends and wearing him down. And, almost as expected, there you were again, in all your translucent glory. The hem, the sleeves, and even the smell of your yukata slowly dragged across his dreams, haunting his thoughts like a lonely wraith.

And Aizen hardly dreamt of anything.

When he regained consciousness he was plagued with yet another epiphany. An additional reason behind this newfound depth.

Aizen's own loneliness. Guilt. Much to his own quiet horror.

How foreign and unusual a thing like guilt is. It was like looking into a mirror and not recognizing something you had never noticed before, but wondered if it had always been there.

But the thing Aizen did recognize, how lonely he actually felt, was something he had hoped would never resurface again. It was a notion he hadn't had the time or regard to consider━ 'loneliness'. Its only purpose, if any, was solely to serve as a motivator. At times though, it was more like a hindrance.

Something akin to nausea slowly started to bubble up in the pit of his stomach, but he suppressed the sensation before it became any more intense.

What of his previous actions did he need to feel guilty for? He hadn't felt it then, so why would he feel it now? Again he ruminated such a question endlessly into oblivion.

The former captain had no doubts that his plan to remove the Soul King, and therefore the Soul Society's sins, were necessary.

Nor did any hesitancy about removing the opposition or dead weight━ whether shinigami or arrancar━ existed.

He certainly had no reservations against killing Kaname Tosen, for he knew the man well enough to know that Tosen would have been so thoroughly appalled with what he had become, it would have drove him mad.

So what was it, then? Why were such useless emotions as guilt and loneliness being amplified n━

"Y....know, S....."

Even covered by the seals, Aizen's eyes widened and his brows were slightly furrowed in distress. Had his mind finally tipped the scales of sanity and madness, to the point where he was hearing things?

It was quiet for several moments longer, before his senses caught onto the sound of water dripping onto a hard surface.

One drop at a time.

Its cadence a little too rhythmic to be natural. And for a second time, he heard that soft, ominous sounding whisper. Its voice a little clearer this time.

"You...know.....Sōsuke."

In the second it took for his eyes to flutter shut behind its seals to blink, when he reopened them, he was no longer sealed to the walls and floors of the Mugen, nor was he surrounded by every shade of darkness imaginable. His limbs and senses were finally freed to breathe for the first time in what felt like ages.

That relief was short-lived when his senses absorbed the unending landscape of water underneath his feet, water lilies lifelessly floating on its surface, and the dim sky illuminated by a full pale moon.

Aizen was in his inner world, and now he was aware of how he got here, or rather who brought him here.

"You . . . already know the answer to that question, Sōsuke." The voice was even more clear, its sentences more comprehensible. And it sounded it eerily like you.

Why the voice was impersonating your likeness had caught him off guard for half a second, but he realized it was only the work of his zanpakuto, Kyoka Suigetsu.

An illusion it may be, there was an untouchable quality about your voice and how you spoke that even Kyoka Suigetsu couldn't replicate.

A few feet away from him, the water was disturbed by a being emerging from the depths. Ripples formed around a manifested version of his zanpakuto, who took the form of you, smiling ever so gently. The smile felt airy, and it didn't seem like the same one that haunted his dreams and every waking thought as of late. It felt....knowing.

Still, the former captain couldn't be bothered to maintain eye contact with his sword spirit, so he turned around and opted to keep his unreadable stare trained on the vast expanse of water and white lilies.

"It's been quite a while since I have stepped foot into this realm. There must be something you want . . . Kyoka."

The zanpakuto chuckled, it sounded like the way you would softly laugh at one of his clever quips. But this wasn't you.

He didn’t want to admit that something about that fact didn’t sit right with him.

"Judging from your tone, would I be correct in assuming you don't want to be here?"

Silence rang out within the soul scape, before Aizen interrupted it, his gentle voice colored a shade darker, and a little rigid. "And I fail to see the reason why you must take that form when you revealed yourself to me. Is your aim to get a reaction out of me? Or something along those lines?"

Your eyes━ the eyes of Kyoka Suigetsu━ narrowed at its master's back, as if they were trying to create concavities in his skull. But the expression was washed away the moment it appeared, the serene smile from before was back in place.

"You know . . . it's considered quite rude to not look at someone when you're addressing them. That, and when you deliberately ignore things they say. Your manners have been deteriorating, Sōsuke. Tsk, tsk."

Kyoka-dressed-as-you suddenly appeared before him, as if they had teleported. Even when they were in his peripheral vision, Aizen still maintained his stare off into the distant nothingness.

"Unless, you can't find it in yourself to look at me. . . that's correct, isn't it? It's because I look exactly like her, right?" The zanpakuto continued to provoke him, taking a step closer into his personal space.

With an exasperated sigh, his eyelids fell shut for a second, using that time to gather the strength he didn't know he needed, and directed his gaze to meet his spirit's. Aizen's face gave nothing away, but his heart lurched about his chest when his bronze eyes met with yours, or what was made to look like yours. The undesired affect it had on him was all the same.

"If you wish to chastise me about manners, I suggest you take your own advice. You didn't answer my first question, either: what is it you want? Why am I here?" Again the former captain chose to not address the other parts of Kyoka's statement. For the sake of his sanity and his thinning patience━ or was it to preserve his resolve?

Its smile widened a bit, moving another step closer to their master. God, Kyoka even smelled like you, mimicking your signature honeyed scent that Aizen didn't realize he found so intoxicating until this very moment.

"I called you here to save you from yourself."

Aizen remained silent, only narrowing his eyes in speculation. "Meaning?"

"Didn't I already say it earlier? I think you already know what I'm talking about, Sōsuke. You've always known."

Fate's pairing of Kyoka Suigetsu with Aizen was a match crafted from the spindles of heaven, but also a maddening curse pulled from the depths of hell, for they complimented each other a little too well. The zanpakuto was too perfect a reflection of Aizen and his soul, looking at it started to hurt his eyes.

His sword spirit insisted that he already knew the reason for his coming here, and perhaps he did have an inkling the moment the light of epiphany was shone on his profound loneliness and guilt. But that couldn't have been what it was referring to . . . . could it?

"You cannot feign ignorance here, my dear Sōsuke, however I do find it rather humorous you bother trying. If you'd like, I don't mind humoring you by spelling it out for you. I'd be glad to unearth the truth that you have buried in the most neglected corner of your heart."

"When you were . . . . subjecting yourself to such mental torment, it had an affect on this world as well. The ripples, the waves in this scape become quite . . . tumultuous." The nuances in your voice were perfected by his zanpakuto, but the way it talked sounded like a fog that was gradually closing in from over the horizon. The uneasy feeling that resided in his chest traveled down to his stomach, but Aizen's face remained steely, even when Kyoka Suigetsu took that final step to close the gap in between them. "And the reason for that, the reason why Hisagi's words rattled you so is because you regret killing that woman."

The creased line in Aizen's brow grew more prominent as he stared down his sentient sword spirit. With its breast pressed against his, they placed a hand on his clothed chest in a tantalizing manner, but he felt nothing. There was no warmth from its palm, much unlike when your hand touched him. There wasn't even a cool sensation either. Even minutes before your death, your touch brought a soothing heat that permeated through his shihakusho and penetrated his skin.

Kyoka's face grew nearer, their smile━ although still tender looking━ grew cold at its edges, nearly resembling that of a predator eager to see despair reflected in the eyes of its prey. It didn't fit the graceful allure of your face at all, and seeing this expression deeply unsettled the former captain more than he would like to admit.

"You regret . . . killing me."

A chill tore through Aizen's body, the weight of Kyoka's words adding onto the heaviness that still hasn't been alleviated from his heart; he was hardly able to suppress the involuntary shiver.

Without warning, Kyoka's mouth suddenly became dangerously close to their master's, its lips brushing against his in a provocative manner. Aizen's expression darkened when he realized that it was reenacting his last encounter with you when you were alive. His mouth started to grow uncomfortably dry, despite his soul scape being full of moisture, and there was a taste on the back of his tongue that's been lingering there since he arrived.

The lilt in Kyoka's tone continued to taunt him. "That is the reason for your guilt: regret. You have been in denial. And in the spirit of unearthing truths, I suppose I can admit that perhaps . . . . I've been . . . . encouraging said delusions, adding drops of fuel into the flames of your emotions and ambitions. But after all that's happened, when it comes down to it there's no point in continuing this hallucination any longer. I've grown tired of this game, so it's time to for you wake up now, Sōsuke. I've brought you here to release you from your own illusion, to completely shatter it."

Aizen's back was as stiff as a board, not moving a millimeter when Kyoka's lips grazed his again. They were breathing softly onto his mouth, but he hardly felt any puffs of air.

The former captain was having a rather difficult time processing the fact that his zanpakuto had its own agenda and had been manipulating his emotions without him noticing. Specifically the emotions he felt towards you.

He never truly believed that such a thing was possible, one's own blade having such a deep-rooted influence━ no, control over their master. Or would it be more accurate to say that he never expected himself to be controlled to such a degree? He that prided himself on being freed from the marionette strings of fate that were tied to his limbs and mind, he that relished being able to do what he wanted, think what he wanted, feel what he wanted━ or what he didn't want━ it was hard to believe that none of that mattered in the end.

Kyoka Suigetsu's deceptive abilities were indeed undeniably perfect. No one, not even Aizen himself could have anticipated that Kyoka's most absolute and complete hypnosis would be enacted on himself.

"Do you know now, Sōsuke? Do you understand?" Kyoka's voice was as soft as a whisper, but it couldn't hide the edges of its tone that were still sharpened from finding amusement of seeing the truth flash across its master's face. "You had destroyed the solution to your existential question of loneliness, before you could fully understand the question itself."

Yes . . . . . Aizen understood now.

He didn't bother acknowledging what Kyoka had said. His grim facial expression━ still, tinged with dolor, and paired with an indescribable, distant look his eyes━ said all that it needed to. His silence was as much as an admission as any.

Kyoka-dressed-as-you leaned forward again to fully close the gap between their lips and Aizen's. Tenderly, like the intentions of a lover, it spoke against his nearly closed mouth. "Have you figured it out yet?"

Nothing but quiet could be heard between them, as Kyoka's mouth moved about their master's face and placed something like kisses upon its surface, but not quite.

Aizen's cocoa-shaded eyes slide down to stare at his sword spirit pressed up against him. His gaze was hard, and yet something swam underneath its surface that his zanpakuto had never seen before. Melancholy, it guessed? They weren't quite sure.

Kyoka pressed on when Aizen remained quiet. "The taste in the back of your mouth. Have you figured out what it was? You know it quite well....."

Aizen's tongue grazed the roof of his mouth, sensing the rather unpleasant taste that has coated the inside of it. And within a moment, because he was faced with the current circumstances, Aizen had finally placed a name associated this particular taste. How unfortunate this was.

Upon his realization, Aizen's head lowered, and his brown tresses hung freely over his lashes. Perhaps it was so Kyoka couldn't properly see whatever remorseful expression painted their master's face, but it mattered not. Even from here, the sword spirit could already sense exactly what it was he was feeling.

And they loved it.

"It's a sweet and flavorful taste, isn't it? Quite lovely." Kyoka Suigetsu mimicked the exact words he uttered against your lips all those years ago when he tasted jasmine tea on your tongue, and sealed your death with a kiss. "It's too bad you don't seem to enjoy it anymore."

Aizen's chest continued to rise and fall calmly, and the hands of his sword spirit that rested there glided upwards to cup his strong jaw, caressing his skin with its thumb. Its phantasmic touch did nothing to stir their master.

"Sōsuke, do you know what the jasmine flower from that tea symbolizes?"

Aizen's lips were slightly parted, but again he didn't say anything. Instead, its corners twitched and lifted upwards by an inch, and he huffed softly.

Kyoka Suigetsu grinned in reply. "Good."

The next time Aizen blinked, he was plunged in darkness yet again. The restrictive feeling that swallowed his being whole had returned, and was an indicator that his zanpakuto had released him from his inner world. He was consciously back in the Mugen, back in this abyss they called a prison cell.

Kyoka was indeed as much as a formidable force in its own right, as much as, if not greater than Aizen himself.

The conversation he had with his sword spirit would be cemented in his head for all eternity. When he grew senile and began to physically wither away, the one thing that would remain vital like a young heart, was this epiphany that he had. This realization that he actually . . . .

As the chains of despair bound him tighter to the bottom of the metaphorical pit, regret and his loneliness corroding his flesh and spirit like metal exposed to moisture, a stray memory of his time in Hueco Mundo flashed in his mind. He recalled having tea prepared for meetings with his Espadas and he could not pinpoint when, but at some point, Aizen developed an aversion for jasmine flavored tea. For one reason or another, he no longer found its taste appealing; whenever he drank it, it always tasted bitter.

Now that reason had become painstakingly clear.

The binding on his mouth muffled a rueful chuckle at the though, and it trapped the flavor of jasmine on his lips.

(#) @soaringmirror @stygianoir @ryukenzz @blkjupiters @chrissie2003 @nymphoheretic @dejwrld @triangularz @souyaszn @kuujo @honeybleed @valentineluvu . let me know if you’d like to be apart of my tag list ♡♡.

[scoobydoomistakes]

Gather 'round, fellow patrons of the arts, for the latest acquisitions of this museum's Scooby-Doo Background Paintings wing.

Long-Headed Behatted Man on Gray: imposing, formidable, abundant in nose

Disinterested Mustachioed Man: equally gifted in the ways of nose, not to mention '70s collars

Just A Blank Frame They Hung Up: I'd think it was a mirror, but a vampire lives in the house and that would be rude

Floating Goat Head On Gradient: a decisive piece of social commentary, though I don't know of what

Wait What Oh No I'm Sorry Who Is That: seriously is he making a duckface too I'm very scared

[velvees-archive]

art cr: @cokiicookies on twitter

Tags: Love Confessions, Bratfeen, Art Student Feenie, Law Student Bratworth, Ace Attorney-typical cringefail, Canon Divergence

and many others!

HEAVILY inspired by @cokiicookies's bratfeen art on twitter! check out the full comic there!!!

"Hey...so...uh..." Phoenix coughs out, voice scratchy from his most recent line repetitions. It's a small mistake, not unsalvageable. All he has to do is stick to the script. Stick to the script. Stick... His eyes flick down to his note cards. He swears he’d printed them in his best penmanship, atop one of the library's extra premium desks, but everything is spinning and he feels faintly like he's going to throw up. "Did you uh," he starts, letters swirling in his eyes. "Did...you fall out of heaven...?" Genius prosecutor-in-training Miles Edgeworth regards him with a blank stare. Phoenix thinks now would be an opportune time for him to locate the nearest possible bridge and promptly jump off of it. - The joys and woes (mostly woes) of being in love, as told by BratFeen.

so i caved and wrote narumitsu. another huge thank you to @cokiicookies on twitter for allowing me to write an accompanying fic for their work. i attached some of the comic here in an attempt to entice you to look at their comic (well? are you enticed?!), but if you wanna see the full thing, please do give their art a like, a retweet, a comment, and all the love on twitter! fic screenshots below:

misc commentary/musings under the cut :)

the way i wrote feenie inner monologue and narration parallels my informal writing style, so writing his freak outs weren't challenging. consciously changing sentence structures/verbiage to be more or less extra, on the other hand, totally was.

the bulk of my pain came from writing fluff in the first place, stumbling through dialogue exchanges (as always), and attempting larry dialogue...all of which i honestly think i failed at pretty badly HAHA. who cares tho? it's my work!

bratfeen is one of my favorite narumitsu "eras" if you will. i've always wanted to write them. i didn't know the opportunity would come so soon (and at my expense considering i still have a zine fic to finalize for a diff fandom), but i took the shot. the full fic was written over the course of a day which i do not recommend anyone experience. i was on a writing hiatus for months and wrote 8k words as soon as i came back. do you see why i burnt out in the first place?

the easiest part about writing bratfeen is that none of the things i write are exaggerated for the purpose of carrying the plot forward. feenie believing that bratworth is better of a human being than everyone makes him out to be? sounds about right. feenie insisting to others that miles is the best thing since grilled cheese? his raging savior complex says that's likely to occur. feenie fumbling the bag because he thinks miles is the prettiest thing he's ever seen? yeah, 20 y/o feenie would! feenie shoving the asshole who talked shit abt miles? we saw the exact same thing with doug swallow (and we all know how that ended...). all of it is in line w his character. also miles being a try hard. that's a given.

i am hoping i can showcase more of my technical skill aka the angst writer in me with my next work, though i've been closely following fictober (haven't been publishing because, again, zine fic obligations) and have plenty of angsty fics stored in my drafts. i hope you enjoy my poor attempt at humor and fluff. may i muster the strength to finish the rest of my zine fic...please...

[dont-leafmealone]

some etiquette tips for quotev migrants

If you enjoy a post (piece of art, text post, writing, gifset, etc) interact however you would have on quotev!

Reblogging is like reposting an activity, but with a permanent link to op, and you can add your own thoughts in the tags or on the post itself. Very nifty. It's that little 🔄 symbol at the bottom.

Likes are a good short-form validation, and also a way to save posts so you can find them again later.

Comments are good for sharing your thoughts without having the post on your account for whatever reason.

Tags are optional, but useful for both organization and extra commentary that will stay on your blog (unless someone likes your tags. Then they may copy/screenshot and add to the post, or copy them in their own tags.)

if you trigger tag something, don't censor the trigger. That will only make it harder for people who have that tag blocked to avoid it.

"Copying is ok" rules for tags don't apply to art; art is to be reblogged, not copy-pasted, unless given permission from the artist. It's also polite to credit an artist if you use their art for a header/pfp, and/or ask beforehand!

That said, gifs are free game pretty much, since they have built-in credit to whoever uploaded them.

When posting images it's helpful to use the alt text feature to add a description, or add one in the body of the post below or above the picture, since A; it's helpful for those who use screen readers, and B; sometimes pictures don't load and the description is sometimes vital to tell what the heck's going on, screenreader or no.

Ask boxes are for things you don't mind being publicly viewed; messages are for private discussions.

Anonymous asks are optional, meaning some people may have them turned off. Anon hate is unfortunately common and many people opt to avoid it.

Block and report bots on sight. Report for spam/bot violations; even if they're an nsfw bot, reporting for sexual content won't do anything to get rid of them. Bots are pretty recognizable when you know what to look for, as their blog will either be blank/have a insta model pfp and generic URL, or...be full of untagged porn.

Bots come in waves; there'll be a lot at once, then they'll die off to a handful, then eventually come back. It's a neverending battle!

You can block tags to avoid seeing content you don't like. To do this you go into "account" in the settings menu, and type whatever you wanna block in the content filters section.

Turn on timestamps! That way you can know if info is outdated, or just in general have a time frame for when something was made.

Block rather than argue. You'll be happier in the long run. Hell, even if someone just kinda gets on your nerves or yucks your yum, but especially if it's serious, since reporting does next to nothing and arguing just won't change someone who's stuck in their ways, and it's not your job to fix everyone who's wrong. Block their account and if you want, block their name on the filtered content. Chances are they won't even know or care so don't worry that it's rude.

Most of all, have fun!

That's all I can think of for now. My askbox is open if there are any questions!

[novemberthewriter]

WRITEBLR INTRO xx

hey, all! i’m n.k. :-)

i'm not new to tumblr (have had a few diff accounts since 2011/2012), but i'm new to interacting with writeblr proper. 

ABOUT ME

late 20s

black & queer & disabled 

lifelong writer/musician/creative (in both professional and hobbyist capacities)

finally finishing my degree in creative writing & english! 

ARTISTIC/THEMATIC INTERESTS 

literary fiction, horror, camp, kitsch, diversity, introspection, family/friend bonds (especially nontraditional ones), romance, art rock, nostalgia, technology, diy ethos 

GOALS

connect with the tumblr writing community at large! for a while i was unable to get excited about my non-work, non-fanfic related writing projects. over the past year or so, my passion’s been renewed, and i just wanna chatter with like-minded folks about my longform WIPs, my short stories, etc – and geek over other people’s work here too <3

WIPS 

Dagmar

there’s always something going down in dagmar, an insular coastal community straddling the delaware bay. pragmatic tech geek zeke omezie-fumudoh, 18, prefers to keep her head in her books and projects – deaths and disappearances were common in her parents’ home country, too, after all. when her best friend dodie dies, however, zeke has no choice but to start trying to connect the dots & face the potential supernatural forces at play. 

[this is finna be dark fantasy/horror, romance, mystery, and queer as hell! i got a lot of worldbuilding to do, but a few months ago the twist popped into my head 1st and i’ve been working backwards. i'm sooo excited abt figuring out the narrative path(s) i gotta take]

Dave & The Family Davenport

20-year-old twin musicians dorian & daria davenport are a little s club 7, a little sly stone, & a whole lotta spitfire. as the very first act signed to holliday records, 30-something producer & label founder dave levine considers it his duty to take the family davenport under his wing. they become his pet project – and eventually something more to him. 

[i’m taking this one in a literary/drama direction! thinking found family and music industry commentary vibes. idea came from revisiting big time rush and thinking ‘what would happen if you mix btr + the carpenters + prince + mtv’s making the band??’ (for the record, dave is 100% NOT meant to be a p. d*ddy analogue re: making the band, i'm mainly thinking of the aesthetics of the young artists of color featured on the show)]

Several fun essays about my personal fandom/shipping history (one is about all the diff sites i've used over 17+ years of reading/writing fanfic, another is an old-school livejournal-style ship manifesto that i plan to make into a video! etc etc)

SHORT FICTION 

blank [literary/drama, 300 wds]

fortune teller [literary/drama, 300 wds]

hothouse [horror, 500 wds]

a certain standard of care [horror-comedy/surreal/gross-out, 1k wds]

good bones (or, an exercise in letting go) [literary/dramedy, 1.3k wds]

[writing tag: scorpio the scribe]

hmu if you think we'd get along <3 i need more ppl to follow!

[ETA: i prefer to follow/be mutuals w/ ppl 18+ only, ty!]

[porcelainvino]

[PART ONE] the room where it happens (b!g animatic): artist’s commentary

spoiler warning for eden, other than that, who wants to hear some lore?!?!

description/disclaimer:

better!glee is my (kind of) glee fanfiction in which my favs are essentially my ocs (i do not claim to own the characters). there’s a difference between the “glee club members” and the “better!glee characters” because some of the main characters in the better!glee story are just side characters i like in the real show who aren’t in the new directions (ex: kurt is in the NDs as well as a main character in b!g, rachel is in the NDs but is NOT a main character in b!g, maud is NOT in the NDs but is a main character in b!g; it’s confusing but i’ll try to elaborate as we go on).

each character has their own color, but it has no secret meaning, it’s just to separate them/tell them apart. i was planning, but it was honestly too much effort, to draw all of the new directions, so i only drew the ones who are main characters in better!glee.

the story takes place during the canonical 3rd season of glee, but it does not necessarily follow the canon plot of that season/the rest of the show. some of my b!g characters may act “out of character” compared to canon, but this isn’t necessarily meant to follow canon. in this animatic, there isn’t really a “good side” or “bad side”, both think their doing the right thing but also have their own flaws; this isn’t meant to villainize any character.

i do not necessarily plan to ever post the fanfiction publicly because it’s genuinely mediocre and frankly not even a glee fanfiction at this point. i don’t mean to gatekeep it or anything, this is genuinely just for my irl friends, not for anyone else. despite the name, better!glee is not meant to “fix” the show nor make it “better”, it’s just for silly funzies.

backstory, and basically the first minute of the animatic:

the last major plotline of better!glee mainly follows maud, the violin girl from s1, and her effort to join the glee club. she was unable to and discouraged to join for the past 2 years by her brother and her peers (there’s more to that but it’s too much to explain), but after becoming friends with some of the new directions members, she’s motivated to join and help them win nationals.

kurt encourages her to join. he didn’t get any letter from nyada yet, and he is determined to win nationals to add on to his transcript just in case. maud films her journey/the glee club’s plans for nationals for an av club project, and kurt encourages her to so he can maybe even use it to help him get into nyada.

kurt takes charge to help the glee club win nationals. however, kurt, the b!g characters, and the rest of the glee club have a bit of beef at the moment due to previous events (there’s more to that but it’s too much to explain), so tensions are high, and friendships are strained. his closest friends, mercedes and tina, try to negotiate with him, especially in such a busy time frame.

for context:

maud sings aaron burr’s part

kurt sings alexander hamilton’s part

tina sings thomas jefferson’s part

mercedes sings james madison’s part

rest of animatic, feel free to follow along :3:

• kurt has control of how nationals plays out, prioritizing winning. mercedes and tina hold a photo of the better!glee friend group, prioritizing their friends, at least in the beginning.

• the trophies are colored in the character’s color, representing how each one of them helped win that competition, like tina got to have a solo at sectionals/got to chose the set list (there’s more to that but it’s too much to explain). nationals has not happened yet so there’s no trophy.

• despite having beef with half of his friends (there’s more to that but it’s too much to explain), kurt begs mr. schue to help, at least temporarily, reunite the new directions for nationals.

• “the pieces that are sacrificed in every game of chess” plays while they point to maud. this is showing how the b!g characters in the new directions are slowly but surely abandoning the non-glee club b!g friends in favor of nationals (i hope that made sense).

• i genuinely don’t know how to properly explain this part because i’m not really sure how i want the plot to be (for context, i’ve only written 16 chapters but i plan for there to be over 80, with this animatic being one of the last plots), but i suppose this could be interpreted as either if mercedes and tina brought up the importance of friendship to kurt, they could all reconcile properly OR maybe mercedes and tina saying that their friend group will be fine if they temporarily work on nationals rather than focusing on fixing relationships? i’m not sure.

• just maud wanting to be in “the room where it happens” aka the choir room.

• there’s a message on the bulletin board saying that the glee club will continue to focus on nationals by themselves and do not require extra members. maud gets mad at kurt for getting her excited for nothing even though he had most of the control of how things would play out and had promised her he’d help her get in.

• maud realizes that kurt was never going to let her join and only hyped her up so she could record the success of the new directions to further his chances of getting into nyada, using her for his own gain.

• kurt saying that the better!glee friend group is insignificant compared to nationals, at least in his eyes. from his point of view, winning nationals is his chance to change the course of his future, and attempting to mend relationships is just an obstacle to that goal.

• this is just my favorite frame lol

[click here for part two]

[xythlia]

11:17 PM

𓏲 ࣪₊sfw fluff, alcohol consumption, semi public make out, everything mentioned is based loosely on the carnegie museum of art in pittsburgh since it's the one I've been to the most

› for my lovely io @elusivemoon <3

"Look at this, they have the Panorama films on display," you said, grabbing his hand to drag Satoru over to the display.

He'd purchased tickets to the museum of arts twenty one and over night, an evening of art and wine as a surprise for you after spending too long away from you, all the demands of being the strongest tugging him out of your reach.

The gallery was hushed despite the crowd, at most gentle murmurs would roll through the mingling people taking in the displays and special exhibitions. He knew you loved this sort of thing, and while he wasn't particularly well versed in art it was more about seeing your eyes light up and hearing your commentary on the pieces around you.

You looked ethereal in the low lighting, a glass of white wine in one hand and his clasped in the other, your eyes eagerly taking in every detail of the gallery. It was especially cute how alcohol tended to make you far more easily excitable, making an easy grin sweep across his lips as he took you in.

"Hm, I thought you'd be more into the physical medium stuff," he said, taking a sip of his own glass. The dryness of the wine did little to detract from the sheer sweetness of your eyes.

"Well I love it all, but the film displays are always exciting. Once they had one that flickered stars in the pitch black with this droning synth, it was beautiful and so disorienting." You spoke in a whispered smile.

Beautiful and disorienting, he knew something about that. The thought made him squeeze your hand involuntarily, thumb caressing the back of it.

You both continued on the pre-set trail of displays, most of the museum was off limits since it was technically after hours. Over the rim of his glass he spotted the sign for the hall of statues, notably closed as well it's lights dimmed and a lone security guard wandering down the marbled hall.

Lacing his fingers tighter with yours he gently guided you to turn around, softly hushing your protests until he drew your attention to the sign.

"Wanna see the statues?" He leaned to brush his lips against your cheek, making you giggle softly.

"I was pretty sure you knew how to read 'Toru," you teased, gesturing with your glass to the small closed sign off to the side of the hallway entrance.

"Hmm must be the wine," he said softly, lightly pulling you along despite your hushed protests.

"There's a guard we're not getting in there," you whisper with a roll of your eyes.

In a second his long legged stride sped up, pulling you along clumsily as he ducked around the corner and into a semi dark room full of grand white statues, the matte marble still managing to glow despite the lack of direct illumination.

Your protests trailed off into silence. It really was exquisite, furtively admiring the lovingly carved pieces in silence. It felt like you two were the only people in the world at that moment, the thrill of a stolen secret joining the wine to create a soft warmth in your chest.

"They're all so..." you trailed off, too engrossed in the rows of lifelike depictions.

"Beautiful," he stated, pulling you to face him, nearly flush against him.

The world felt frozen, like a film reel stopped on one frame stretching out eternally. His eyes, those overwhelming blues, locked with your own as his hand came up to cradle your jaw. His thumb brushed so gingerly against your lips you could almost say you were imagining it.

With a fumbling hand you tenderly gripped the side of his jacket, meeting him as he leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss that tasted of white wine and sparkling joy. His hand slid around your back, upwards to cup the base of your head as you leaned back, the kiss devolving into something more desperate edged with longing.

In that room, surrounded by the blank eyes of dozens of figures frozen in their own eternity, it was as though you'd both slipped through some secret, hidden seam to a place of hushed reverence wrapped in adoration. A place for only the two of you.

His tongue ran across your own like he was a cartographer mapping a brand new region, and the slight scrape of his nails against your scalp made you shiver despite the warmth of the museum. Just as you were running your hand up beneath his shirt, feeling the firm planes of muscle that the spell was broken, like a shattered mirror.

"Hey! Sections closed," a gruff, aged voice called from the front of the room.

Guiltily you jerked back from him, your ears burning and your lips feeling ever so slightly swollen as your grip on your glass nearly faltered, almost sending it hurtling towards the shiny tiled floor.

"Sorry, we got a little off track," Satoru said, smiling as he took your hand again to lead you both back towards the main display area.

The guard, an older man whose eyes held no annoyance smiled back, shaking his head. "Better make your way back to the main floor, they're about finished up for the night."

You both thanked him, though you did duck your head shyly as you passed the embarrassment of being caught like two naughty kids still lingered over you. In a blur your glasses were returned to the table, warm good nights were uttered by staff as Satoru pushed the heavy glass and metal doors open, letting a burst of frigid night air roll over you.

As it settled in your lungs you tipped your head back and laughed, a full rich sound that glittered in the near empty street.

Bathed in the warm glow of street lights he couldn't help but laugh with you, ignoring the bite of winter against his cheeks, hoping against all hope that he could make you even half as joyful for as long as you'd let him.

[moondust-bard]

A Writer’s Guide To Conquering Executive Dysfunction

(Part I in a series of resources for chronically ill and disabled writers)

These tips were taken from the comments of a post by @mr-writes I’ve included commentary under each item to further explain the benefits. Stay tuned for additional parts in this series I’m creating for chronically ill and disabled writers.

1. Leave your house—or, at the very least, crawl out of your bed/comfy gremlin nest. A change of scenery may encourage creativity and keep you from a more sedentary state. @antique-symbolism

2. Talk out your writing with a trusted friend or critique partner. Sometimes you need to get the brain jumble out of your head, find an outside perspective, and share in the fun of writing discourse @karolinarodrigueswrites

3. Make sure your basic needs are met. Is your room clean? Are you clean and in comfortable clothing? Have you eaten today? Are you in need of hydration? Have you taken your meds? You are your top priority. Physical and mental health difficulties often impact creativity, inertia, and motivation. @fenrir-kin

4. Remind yourself how fun writing is by crafting indulgent, low stakes scenes. Screw the outline— write whatever inspired you in the moment! Are you daydreaming of a scenario only loosely related to the plot? Write that instead! Holding goals and abiding by a schedule for your writing is admirable. But remember, enjoying the process of creating your art is the whole reason to create art in the first place. @karolinarodrigueswrites

5. Get comfy! Pull on your coziest clothes, grab a soft blanket, prepare a cup of tea or coffee, light a scented candle, turn on the mood lighting, queue up an atmospheric playlist— whatever works for you! The goal is to get relaxed, lower stress and pressure, and immerse yourself in your story. @thegroundhogdidit

6. Use prompts. Starting any new task can be daunting. Staring at the blank page is, as any writer will tell you, intimidating— and some days, it’s much less stressful to just not start at all. Writing from a prompt could reduce the stress of initiating a new task. You can find prompts in many locations: Pinterest, tumblr, writing blogs. I’ve asked friends for some in the past. Whatever option seems most interesting to you may be worth a try. @aninkwellofnectar

[visionoasis]

One of my Sonic fanfiction romance icks is cheating stories.

It’s not the act of cheating itself that’s the problem for me. It’s everything around the cheating. I feel like the writing is often weak, the characters almost never feel like themselves, and I think the Sonic franchise is not suited for it. At all.

And I’m not even talking about the act of the cheat for the characters feeling out of character. I mean yeah. That’s obviously part of it. But the personalities are often so… out of character that I just don’t buy it. For example: a lot of sonamy vs sonally stories the characters get venomous so fast! This happens in a lot of Sonadow cheat stories too! I’m sure it’s across the board. (A lot of people pick the same few “victims” too. Which is an interesting commentary in itself.)

I’m not blind. There are certainly some examples of the behavior in “canon”. Like in the Archie Comics. I like to think I’m not closed minded either. I like crackships. I like AUs, canon x OC, gay, weird scenarios, whatever. You don’t have to stick to the canon guideline. I dare say it’s better if you loosen up and do your own thing. I do.

But I feel like in addition the writing is often very bare bones reasoning as to why the cheating happened? The motivation is almost always the same across works. “New person hot, I’m attracted”. And while this is a very real reason people cheat it often comes with weak character writing. People often sacrifice character depth for the drama of the cheat. Especially for the person being cheated on, they’re often a blank slate because the obvious focus is the ship they wanted to write.

Which that… works... that’s fine. Nothing wrong with that. But it doesn’t make the story compelling either. Especially in long form. It reminds me of the other irks I have with the trope too. Like the victim killing themselves or the victim secretly being an abusive asshole all along to justify the actions, etc etc. For me it’s not fun to read. They’re narrative shortcuts to write the happily ever after of the ship and I think ruins the point. I tend to like stuff that embraces the messiness and characters that own they aren’t being nice. It should be messy because they made a messy choice.

Don’t confuse these as judgements. These are blatant preferences of mine. Not every fanfiction has to be a grandiose art piece that we will tell tales of for eons to come. You should write what you like. And undeniably people clearly like reading it, as that’s why there’s so much of it. You damn well shouldn’t be writing to make people like me happy. I am so obviously not your demographic and that’s very okay for both parties!

But I can still have thoughts on it and reflect why it doesn’t bring me enjoyment. If that bothers you; write more fanfiction about it for the real ones. I respect that.

[ficzhub]

Well Then…

Chapter 1

X

"Is there any particular reason that you can't stand spending any time with me?" I ask finally after an excruciatingly awkward and silent dinner over Zoom. Wondering why my father just couldn't be bothered to see me. Not when I got into Nevermore, not when I got my first award for my art, not when Tyler and his shithead friends assaulted me and I was in the hospital with internal bleeding after they vandalized my mural, not when I and everyone else at school almost died last month because a psychopathic herbology teacher decided to reanimate her bigot pilgrim great-grand daddy.

"Please Xavier, can I be spared the dramatics? I've been very busy, you know this." He says, not even bothering to look up at the camera.

"Clearly, for the last ten years or so." I don't know what I did wrong. My older sisters got time with him.

"Enough with the snide commentary. If all you wanted to do on this call was chide me, this could've been done over text. At the very least that wouldn't have pushed back rehearsals." He whines

"What do you even need rehearsals for, oh Great and Talented Vincent Thorpe?"

"Talent isn't perfection. I hope you take that to heart, winning a handful of trinkets passed off as awards isn't enough to prove any kind of prowess at anything."

I can't help but roll my eyes at that. He wouldn't know what awards I have or haven't gotten, he's never seen them.

"Speaking of lack of prowess, your grandfather will be taking you back to school after the break is done in a few days." His voice coated in derision.

"What?"

"Your mother's father, not mine."

Well no shit, he's dead. "How come?"

"If this is another tirade about how it's traumatizing that I'm not holding your hand at all times-".

"Jesus dad, I just mean how come he's coming around? He hasn't been around much since Mom...you know." He cringed at the sentence, my mother is one of his father's least favorite subjects.

"Oh, I'm not sure. I didn't ask."

"Okay, thanks for letting me know."

"You're welcome. Now, I can't push back production anymore. Your report card was fine, you've been keeping your nose clean at school as far as I know and you ended up being some kind of hero last semester. Good on you for that, son. Anything else I should know about?" He asks uninterestedly

"Nope, you're pretty much caught up."

"Alright. I'll be putting some money in your account for school supplies and whatnot. Don't over do it, like last year..." he says still remembering how much I spent on Bianca "Make sure to call your grandfather and iron out your plans with him. Have a good night." He says and hangs up.

"Good night dad..." I say to a blank screen. I close my laptop and sigh. What did I expect?

I take my plate to the kitchen and clean it off to put in the dish washer. Staying alone at the manor always feels lonely. My father got us a maid but it feels so uncomfortable to have a strange woman washing my underwear and replacing my bedsheets or anything else for me. I'd rather just do it myself. She can busy herself sweeping and mopping or something, it's not like she pays me any mind.

I'll call Grandpa Ron tomorrow, I don't feel like talking to anyone. Well, there's one person, I haven't talked to her since my last day at school.

I can't even begin to wrap my head around what I should feel about Wednesday. Obviously she's not an easy person to deal with, she's selfish, manipulative and abrasive, but she's never pretended she's not. It's not like I didn't know to expect that. She's also brave, loyal and apparently fiercely protective. I don't wanna push my luck with her and make her feel suffocated, I wonder if the phone was too much. I send her a single text the day I got back home. Just a simple "See you when term starts." It hadn't marked at delivered, so either she never turned on the phone or she let it die. I wish I could go to therapy about all this but Wednesday's ex boyfriend killed her so, I'm shit outta luck with that. I haven't found another one near enough to school or home. I can't imagine I'd have an easy time building trust with them if I did anyway. New one might just die on me like the last.

That was crass.

Obviously Kinbott's murder wasn't about me, and her dying was senseless. Like that dick just wanted another body under his belt or Thornhill just felt like killing someone that day. Who knows, but I couldn't ignore that her death while tragic, really sucked for me.

I should just get my supplies and toke up. It's not like my dad would ever know and the help doesn't care one way or the other cause I don't leave a mess. I ran up to the studio and took my stuff out. The stash was still fresh from when I bought some with Ajax from some townie.

Keeping the puff in my lungs for as long as I can, I starts prepping my canvas...

This was a good idea. It had been a while since I'd let myself take a break from my own thoughts.

I painted Bianca. Her bright eyes and dark skin popping from each other. I still had so many unanswered questions about her. Seems minor compared to all the other things that have happened, but it's not nothing. I can't remember much right after meeting her. Getting coffee at the Weathervane before that asshole had gotten a job there and she was there too. We'd gotten the same coffee order and I accidentally grabbed hers. We'd cracked a few jokes with each other and exchanged numbers. Then suddenly I'm in a total fog and she's admitted into Nevermore. I'm paying for all her school supplies, and I don't remember offering, or her asking. Then I'm back to normal, we're chatting, she's joining clubs, making friends, we're bonding over our shared experience in neglectful or abusive parents, then I'm in a fog again and she's Ms.Popularity and we're Nevermore's Power Couple. When Divina told me what had happened after her and Bianca got into an argument, things cleared up. I didn't enjoy breaking up with her, I did care about her. I didn't wanna get her in trouble or kicked out of school either, it's not like she didn't deserve to be there. But I couldn't stand that I'd been manipulated for months. Am I really that bad of a judge of character? I mean, I had Tyler pegged right, but that one was hard to miss considering I'd tasted his shoe and one of his friends almost made my testicles reascend. I never really told Wednesday the whole truth, maybe if I had she'd have gotten it sooner. Violence isn't an issue to her, but bigotry never seemed her style. I partly blame myself for not being entirely honest with her all because I didn't wanna seem like a pussy. Maybe I deserved what happened. The beating, Wednesday ignoring me, the imprisonment, all of it. I could've prevented so much of it.

I'm spiraling. Maybe I should go to bed but painting was supposed to get this off my chest. This? What do I mean this? I wanna talk about a million things, there is no this. Shit maybe I can just text Wednesday's phone number. Kinbott's got disconnected so I get back that error message. Or worse, it could be reassigned to someone new, then I'm just traumadumping on some poor stranger who's probably got their own shit going on. What if they get confused and think they did something to me? What if they actually end up being someone I know that coincidentally got assigned the old number? They could trace back the texts to me if they already have my number. I'd never live it down. I know Wednesday clearly isn't using the phone, so no harm no foul.

W

"I'm so glad to hear that Wednesday!" My mother said emphatically, gently clapping her hands together.

"We knew you'd love it at Nevermore, Tormentita." Gomez brags "The flesh never falls far from the bone." as he continues his chess match with Thing.

"Yes well, it's not as if any other school in the country would admit me or be able to instruct me of anything new or useful to me. Why waste anyone's time." Not relishing in proving my parents right, I start walking up towards my bedroom.

"Darling, I suppose now would be as good a time as any to inform you of some new developments if you're set in returning." Mother says with my back to her.
Turning around I see her looking at my father.
"Mon cher, this is more your news than it is mine. You should tell Wednesday."

My father checkmates Thing and smirks "You almost had me old man. Next time."
Thing shrugs and hops off to reach his magazine.
Facing me he rubs his hands together "Do you remember your Aunt Dolores?" He asks

"Vaguely. She's not much older than me, but she was always busy with school."

"That's right, she's 25." My mother adds "She got her master's degree in phytology. Of course that was basically a formality, she's always known everything she'd ever need about plants."

"I still don't understand how she came to be. Mama Esmeralda and Papa Pancho must've been in their 50s when they had her, at the earliest." I ponder out loud.

"Oh both sides of your family have had abnormally long periods of fertility, Wednesday. Your Great-Grandmama Margaret, had my aunt Celia at 56 years old. Completely baffled the local doctor." Mother adds gleefully.

"Anyway, I bring this up because we've been notified that your Aunt Dolores will be joining you at Nevermore."

"How did that happen?"

"Well, as you know she had that big spat with my parents and ran off when she turned 15. She never really got to experience much time at that school, and despite everything she did love it so there. It was truly a pity I couldn't convince her to keep going there and not disappear on us. Fester tried to nab her and get her to see why they did what they did but to no avail."

"Understandable."

"We thought you'd feel that way." Mother smirks

"I meant more so how did she manage to get hired. They haven't even said they've gotten a new Headmaster or Mistress."

"The board would have to be riddled with complete fools if they pass up on Dolores, even despite her...muddled record." Mother says. She's always had an inexplicable soft spot for her little sister-in-law.

"What was their disagreement about anyway? I've never gotten a whole answer about that." I ask

"It would probably be best for you to ask her directly. We wouldn't want to speak for her." Father explains, shakily.

"Right then, what position will she be taking?" Noting how my father looked away and down when he said that

"The new herbology teacher. Oh, and your new house mother."

"Makes sense, the last one was an incompetent murderer. At least this time the teacher will be adequate. Thank you for letting me know. Will Pugsley be joining me as well?" Would be nice to practice my aim while still at school. He'd have a new selection of road signs to steal from.

"His grades aren't quite up to par, unfortunately." Mother grims "Rather like his Uncle Fester, brilliant but not booksmart."

"Pity. Will I be sent to school with Lurch, or will you two be dropping me off again?" I ask, waiting to turn around to finally get to the solitude of my bedroom.

"Actually Wednesday, you'll be carpooling with your aunt. She's bringing her own car so to not rely on buses and whatnot. She'll actually be fetching you a day or two earlier as she'll need to get situated."

"I thought she had an aversion to driving." I said, remembering how my father had tried to teach her to drive but my grandparents had already embittered her to the idea.

"She eventually got over it, not without struggle." My father winces "She got herself an old, red beetle and she's been using that little thing since she was 18. My parents were furious when they heard, of course I didn't let her know I'd told them. She wanted to be taken as dead to them."

"Can't wait to hear why from the source. When will she be coming?"

"Could you call Dolores about that, Darling? I have to see something about your brother and your father has a meeting to go to."

"A meeting? About what?" My father doesn't work really, not necessary for us.

"Some charity nonsense, I'm not entirely sure if I'm being honest. All I usually have to do is sign a check." My father explains, poorly.

"Fine, could I get her phone number?"

My mother scribbles down on a sheet her ten digits and sends me off. I'll finally have a use for Xavier's gift.

I shut my bedroom door and start looking for my cell phone, Thing has been using it to make a "TikTok" and "IG". I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes every time Enid would send him some asinine little video. I'm sure it's dead now as neither of us remembers to charge it. I find it in the dresser next to my bed, on 5% battery and 27 new text messages from Xavier.

******

I can hear her before I've even seen her. She came in her red Volkswagen Beetle, blaring music from its speakers. I'd hope she doesn't plan on maintaining that obnoxious volume, I can feel the migraine coming on already as she gets out to say hello.


"Wednesday, looking as malcontent and gorgeous as always." with her ever present smirk on her lips.
"Should I come in and say hey to the folks?"

"I'm sure they'd appreciate that, Mother hasn't stopped fawning about you since she knew you'd be my new teacher."

"Ugh, I've missed Tishy. I guess you'll wanna wait out here?"

"I'd prefer it."

"Here then," she hands me the keys, takes off her circular sunglasses and puts them on the neckline of her shirt "roll down the windows and do whatcha want. I'll be out in a few."

"Thank you, I'll be waiting. Thing will also be coming, just so you know."

"Aw, sweet. He owes me the story about the safe," She says, walking inside "besides I'll need me a few minutes to talk to Gomey and Morts about your new therapist situation."

My blood pressure rises immensely as a hear her last little blip.

"What are you referring to?"

She turns around to face me and looks more bemused by my expression than I'd like for her to be.


"What? Did you think that just because you saved the outcast population of New England from a bigoted zombie, his inept however many 'greats' granddaughter and your ex-boyfriend that everyone would forget you almost killed that normie kid from your last school? Law still applies to ya, dollface. Even heroes need therapy." She says, with her hands on her hips.

"This is waste of time. It's not like therapy did much the first time around, besides get the therapist killed by one of her patients." I feel my grip around the keys start pinching into my fingers

"And shockingly that patient wasn't you." She quips, smirk still on her face before it relaxes slightly "Jesus kid, you're acting like therapy is an actual punishment. Your talking out your thoughts with someone for an hour, get over it." As she turns around to walk inside and Lurch comes out to put my bags in her car.

She waltzes out just as chipper 20 minutes later

"C'mon, we're going from Princeton to Killington, Vermont, with any luck we'll make good time and get there by this afternoon."

"Five hours isn't so bad."

"I'm not generally fond of being extended company."

"Oh please, this little ride along could end up being a nice time for you." She says, getting in the car and starting it "Did you already say bye to everyone?"

"Yes, and I doubt it."

"Dude are you always this much of a downer? Get in."

I get settled inside "This whole happy-go-lucky thing you're doing isn't making you any happier."

"Is that so?" We take off into the path by my home leading to the main road into town.

"Yes. Happiness, or at least satisfaction in my experience is an equation: reality - high expectations. If you expect people to disappoint you, experiences to be subpar and life in general to not excite you very much, then you're never really disappointed." I finish matter of factly.

"Is that really happiness then? Or even satisfaction, as you say?"

"Sure. Can't miss what I never thought I had."

"Spidey, a lot of life is what you make it. If you go to a party, or say, a long car ride, with the expectation or intention to have a bad time then you'll just go, be moody and have in fact, a bad time." She counters, putting her glasses back on to shield herself from the sun coming off the rear view mirror.

"So I'm either right or pleasantly surprised? Sounds good to me."

"It's bad vibes." She says flatly

"It's realistic vibes."

"Expecting everything to be bad all the time also isn't realistic, Wen. There are so many reasons to be optimistic."

"Are you serious?" I ask, knowing some of her past.

"Yes! Life can be a wonderful thing, especially when you're the one in control of how you're living it."

"I can't agree, the natural state of things is chaos. Violence, war, rape, murder, abuse. Eventually we all end up ashes or worm food, the sooner we contend with that fact the better it helps me linger in the good times." I say, diddling the charm on my bracelet with Nero's stinger.

"Wens how often do you think about death?"

"All the time."

"Your family's? Your friends?"

"Sometimes, and it upsets me."

"Christ."

"Oh deliberately his. You can't deny that most things just don't work out."

"The magic of pessimism." She says sarcastically

"Almost everyone is mediocre at almost everything they do. All relationships we have will end, in death or in life. The only way to feel satiated and move on is to lower your expectations and not let it get to you. Optimism is stupid."

"But the stupid, optimistic conviction that things can and will get better by making it so is what makes positive change possible in the first place. If everyone walked around being almost certain that everything's going to shit then what's the point of trying?"

"Trying to what?"

"Trying. Period. Just trying at anything. Trying to be cleaner, trying to be smarter, trying to be faster. There would be no clear point and everyone would just settle and progress would stall."

I can't deny this.

"Spidey, I get that pessimism can feel safer."

"It's not my personal well-being I'm concerned about."

"Isn't it? When was the last time you had real hope about anything? Not deterministic persistence, not stubbornness, not pettiness and not settling because hey this is as good as it's gonna get let's hope it doesn't get worse. Real, deep hope about something. Or, someone."

"I don't like how often you're turning your head to give me sideways glance."

"Wednesday."

"Isn't hope just blind faith in a nicer tone?" I ask

"Yes. Can you answer the question?"

"...I suppose I'd hoped that Eugene would recover despite the odds of surviving an explosion not being great."

"Eugene is the little beekeeper friend you made last term, right?"

"The entomopathist, yes."

"Okay, I guess that's a good example."

"I'm not hopeless, I'm just selective in where I put my energy or hope."

"So with the Hyde thing. We're you betting that Xavier Thorpe was the Hyde or we're you hoping he was so you could say you're a good judge of character."

"I didn't really think it had much to do with anyone's character at all. When I was under the impression that Xavier was the monster, I thought he was doing it without knowing it. Or that he was doing it unwillingly."

"Guess it was an ugly surprise when you found out Galpin relished in it."

It bothers me how well she can gage me despite not having spent much time with me recently.

Most of the information she has must be second hand and yet she's reaching accurate conclusions.
We're obviously related, we look enough alike where it's clear by just looking.
Not exactly of course but she's small, only two inches taller than me and wears big shoes to compensate for it. Her hair also helps. A big, curly inch of her skull. But still, black hair, black eyes, and her skin is the color mine would be if my vitamin D deficiency didn't leave me with the grey cast palor I like now. A warm tan brown like Father.

"It was unsettling. Albeit certainly made my first kiss memorable."

"I'm sure. Mine was a shit show."

"What? Did the guy have braces and they got caught in yours?" I ask sarcastically, knowing her attempt as sympathizing won't measure up.

"No. His teeth were perfectly straight and white. He'd long past the age where braces would look acceptable."

"Couldn't have been that bad." I shrug off

"He forced it on me."

"...and I'm assuming you broke his teeth in retribution." I add

"Not even close. In the position I was in at the time it would've completely fucked my life up, I showed some disgust and that was enough for me to get a stern 'talking to' from my parents."

"This has something to do with why you ran off."

"Yeah. Well, this and a ton of other shit I don't wanna get into, no use dwelling on what's done." She mutters that last part.

"I'm never having kids."

"Pfft, me neither kid. Pregnancy and childbirth alone sound like a Lovecraftian nightmare."

"Hm...well when you phrase it like that..."

We spent most of the ride in relative silence, her music making so that it's not completely quiet but clearly neither of us felt like speaking. She let me control the music for a few hours and surprisingly, she introduced me to new music I actually enjoyed. Genres I'd written off and artists I'd misjudged. I found that I can enjoy some pop, like Shakira's older sound. My aunt is also obviously angrier than she'd like to seem, given how taken away she got by She Wants Revenge. We stopped once for a bathroom break and coffee at a small coffee shop in New Paltz ironically called The Bakery. As eye-roll inducing as the name is the coffee was good and the bathrooms were clean, so we couldn't complain much. She was nice enough to pay. "I'm your aunt and the adult" and other such nonsense being the excuse. Around half way through the ride I pick up my cell phone and text two people to let them know I'm coming. Enid, as we're still rooming together and I wanted to
make sure she kept her My Little Pony adjacent decor on her side, and Xavier. Might give him a chance to get his explanation clear about these messages. Altogether the ride went by much quicker than I expected. We'd headed out at 5:04 am that morning and got to the school at 9:50 am. Of course she drives like a mad woman constantly surpassing the speed limit, only pausing for a second at stop signs and hardly getting any red lights helps. Impressive that her car hasn't been totaled.

"So when are the rest of us meeting your aunt?" Enid asks over FaceTime while I unpack, I hadn't realized she wouldn't be at the school for another two days.

"The day you get here, I suppose. Unless you've other plans. I'd introduce you to her now on this call but she's in her room working on the lesson plan, I believe."

"Than to hang out with my bestie and her super cool aunt? Never. Well, except maybe spend some quality time with Ajax."

"Good to know he's still doing well with you."

"Total gentleman, no complaints here. He's been a little worried about Xavier though. I know he's a little moody, tortured artist persona and all. But during the break he barely communicated with Jax, or anyone else as far as I know."

As far as you know is a good way to phrase it, Enid. She doesn't need to know about his messages to me, I'm not even sure how to take them myself. The only thing he responded to me after my text was "Oh, cool."

"I let him know I was on my way here this morning, I didn't get a very enthusiastic responce from. Figured that was just his nature over text." Not even close

"Really? That's surprising. I thought if anyone could get more outta him it'd be you."

"Why's that?"

"No one believes you're that oblivious, Wednesday. His not-so-subtle crush on you? Maybe that's why?"

"Maybe the events last year sobered him up and he got over it."

"Or he's just depressed."

"Also possible. Not necessarily our business though, is it?"

"I mean, it kinda is. We're his friends and all, and most of us know what it's like to not have a whole hell of a lot of support at home. He needs to get it from somewhere." She clarifies

"Wasn't his father with him during this break?"

"Ha, yeah. I'm sure he was a whole lotta help." She says sarcastically

"Wasn't he? Xavier could've died last term." I point out

"Hm, I'm not sure that's all that important to the all too busy Vincent Thorpe."

"Well, that's mildly upsetting."

"Yeah, you could say that. I know he and I aren't close but I know what it's like to feel like the family you were born into isn't the one you're supposed to be in. At least sometimes." I can empathize with that. My parents are the epitome of present, supportive parents. Almost to a fault, that's what makes it strange. In my eyes, they border on intrusive sometimes, and lacking physical boundaries most times.

"I understand. Do you know if he's an only child?"

"Good question. I'll ask Ajax, I'm not sure. I know his mom wasn't his first wife so it's a possibility he's not. Well, I have my flight at 1:00 am tonight so I gotta get going. See ya in the morning, Bestie."

"Goodbye Enid, have a safe flight.”

<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/50759830"><strong>Well Then</strong></a> (69569 words) by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliTerren"><strong>AliTerren</strong></a><br />Chapters: 13/20<br />Fandom: <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/tags/Wednesday%20(TV%202022)">Wednesday (TV 2022)</a><br />Rating: Explicit<br />Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings<br />Relationships: Wednesday Addams & Xavier Thorpe, Wednesday Addams/Xavier Thorpe, Xavier Thorpe & Wednesday Addams, Xavier Thorpe/Wednesday Addams, Xavier Thorpe/Original Female Character(s), Xavier Thorpe and Original Female Character(s), Wednesday Addams/Original Female Character(s), Tyler Galpin/Original Female Character(s), Wednesday Addams & Enid Sinclair, Ajax Petropolus/Enid Sinclair, Ajax Petropolus & Xavier Thorpe, Wednesday Addams & Original Female Character<br />Characters: Xavier Thorpe, Wednesday Addams, Enid Sinclair, Original Female Character(s), Original Male Character(s), Original Non-Human Character(s), Ajax Petropolus, Eugene Ottinger, Morticia Addams, Gomez Addams, Tyler Galpin, Donovan Galpin, Garrett Gates, Marilyn Thornhill | Laurel Gates, Vincent Thorpe<br />Additional Tags: Mildly Dubious Consent, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Friends to Lovers, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Wednesday is soft for Xavier, Xavier Thorpe is Whipped, POV Xavier Thorpe, POV Wednesday Addams, Possessive Behavior, Obsessive Behavior, Xavier Thorpe Needs a Hug, Xavier Thorpe switch, Jealous Wednesday Addams, Pining, Yearning, Lonely Xavier Thorpe, Smut, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Smut, Masturbation, Fantasizing, Prophetic Visions, Sharing a Bed, Sharing Clothes, Xavier Thorpe Has Daddy Issues, Xavier Thorpe has Mommy Issues, Xavier Thorpe has a praise kink, Discussion of sexual assault, Discussion of rape kits, succubi, Demonic Possession, Demonic Sacrifice, soul eating, Bisexual Wednesday Addams, Creepy Tyler Galpin, wet dreams, Our season 2, Subby Xavier Thorpe, Sub Xavier Thorpe<br />Summary: <p>New term has started, with it comes new people, new feelings and new duties. Let’s hope the unresolved doesn’t get in the way.</p><p>(This might be a part one, might make sequels. Also, take this as season 2 if you also miss having Xavier in the show.)</p>