#i suppose this is just fanfiction now. if someone doesn't write this i will simply think about writing it then never post it <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[reanimatestar]

guy who was fundamentally changed when sherlock said "I have never loved"

[apollo-likes-writing]

LAPIS LAZULI - 2. Opulence

Character(s): Veritas Ratio/Lapis Lazuli, Jelena/Topaz

Tags: Long fic, mentions of sex (not explicit and not between Ratio and Topaz), arguments, Ratio's backstory.

Word count: 2,787 words

Summary: He missed an important meeting after a night out and Topaz is incredibly pissed at him for it. Lmao.

Author's Note: I know I said I'd post this at the weekend but executive dysfunction decided to beat my ass so y'all are getting it on Thursday instead lol.

Just want to note I am not writing explicit smut in any of this fanfiction. Read my boundaries if you'd like to know why. This was inspired by the incredible @havanillas with her roleswap!AU! Have a look!

This is off topic but, as someone who has family near Florida, I wish anyone affected by Hurricanes Helene and Milton and the Super Typhoon in Taiwan/China safety and peace.

Account Masterlist | Fic Masterlist | Prologue

10:39am - Wednesday

The sound of a phone ringing wakes him up, which is strange because he could have sworn he put it on Do Not Disturb the night previously. His arm reaches blindly for his phone on the bedside table. As he does so he smacks his knuckle against the corner of the wood and swears loudly as pain shoots up his arm. He continues his hunt regardless, the tinny jingle of his ringtone starting to bounce around his skull irritatingly. It takes him a while, but he finds his phone and grasps it tightly, bringing it in front of his face and promptly blinding himself as he turns it on. Topaz is calling. Of course she is. 

The man grumbles and sits up in his bed, squinting at his colleagues name for a few seconds before begrudgingly tapping the green button to answer it.

“Topaz! My friend! To what do I owe the pleasure?” The man begins with forced positivity, placing his forearm over his eyes and willing his phone to suddenly have a crappy connection.

“Lapis, where in Qlipoth's name are you?” Topaz’ exasperated voice rings out. “You were supposed to be at the meeting over an hour ago.”

“Oh shit, that was today?”

“Yes, Lapis. It was.” He can hear how clearly she wants to throttle him through the phone. The idea makes him suppress a laugh. “Where are you?”

Lapis eyes the other side of his bed. There, the tanned shirtless back of his chosen boy-toy of the night lays there peacefully, facing away from him in a blanket of black curls. “That doesn't matter. Fill me in on the important, definitely-not-going-to-bore-me-to-death stuff.”

Topaz sighs. “Diamond and Jade are throwing a business party on Friday and they want us to attend.”

“Sounds dull,” Lapis replies simply, grinning slightly at the snort his colleague lets escape in response. “Do I have to go?”

“Yes, Lapis Lazuli of Stratagems, you do,” she answers irritably.

“Ooh, my full title. Am I in trouble?” he teases.

“You will be if you don't show up. Meet me at HQ in thirty minutes.”

With that, Topaz hangs up and Lapis throws his phone back onto the bedside table frustratedly. He crosses his arms and rubs the bridge of his nose, feeling the makeup he forgot to take off last night on his fingertips. The sensation of a hand soothing against his thigh meets his senses and Lapis looks down at his current companion, who has now turned around to face him. He's cute, Lapis admits, which is the main reason why he decided to spend the night with him. His dark skin is littered with lovebites and his coily hair fans out below his head, now slightly messy. It was his eyes that struck Lapis when he first saw him though: a beautiful hazel with flecks of teal dotted about in them and large pupils. 

Those eyes are currently looking up at him from where he lays next to him, gently massaging his thigh in a surprising show of domesticity.

“Are you alright?” the man asks, slightly guarded.

The Stoneheart nods. “Yes, just work stuff. None of it concerns you.” He sneaks his hand onto his companion's head and plays with his hair absentmindedly.

“I don't think I'm smart enough to understand it anyway, Mr. Corporate,” he teases. “But a party? That sounds fun. Are you going?”

“I'm going to have to,” Lapis replies, sighing. “Don't get me wrong, I like parties as much as the next man, but this one is for work and I have to save face which is boring.” He tilts his head back and pushes his palms into his eyes, groaning loudly as he watches a kaleidoscope of colours burst behind his eyelids. The man beside him chuckles warmly.

“You're Lapis Lazuli. A party is no big deal to you, right? Just go there and rub shoulders with whoever you need to rub shoulders with then drink until you do it willingly.”

He has a point.

“Good idea,” he answers, taking his hands away from his face. He pulls the duvet off and swings his legs over the edge of the bed, shivering at the cold air of the surrounding room now hitting his bare skin. He sits there for a while, head lowered, as he musters the motivation to stand up. He does so after a few moments and then hunts around the room for his clothes so carelessly thrown about the night before. He's half-dressed when he turns to his company. “Unfortunately, I've got to go out and attempt to be a human being to prevent my colleague from murdering me,” he says, receiving a laugh from the other man. “You're welcome to anything in the kitchen. The door will automatically lock when you leave, so don't worry about that. Please don’t steal anything — it causes a great deal of hassle that I wish to not be caught up in.”

“Wow, it’s like I’m in a hotel,” he giggles.

“Yeah, well room service isn’t included. Sorry.”

He’s followed out of the room by a hearty laugh. He heads to his bathroom and goes about his morning routine, brushing his teeth and his hair before rooting through his makeup bag to wipe off the old and do his skin care before renewing it. He nearly pokes his eye out with his eyeliner in the process and groans as he smudges the red under his eyes. He finishes soon afterwards and pointedly ignores the hickeys on his own chest and neck (his colleagues have seen worse anyway). He leaves and nabs a banana from the fruit bowl on the counter on his way out of the building, shoving it in his pocket.

It’s raining when he gets outside, raindrops splashing on cement and dirtying the bottom of his trousers. He sighs irritably and rings up his chauffeur to collect him. He draws upon his Imaginary energy and creates a black umbrella for himself as he waits impatiently in the rain, eyeing the sky every now and again when thunder rumbles nearby. 

To his chauffeur’s credit, a slick limousine pulls up only two minutes later. He enters smoothly and wrings out his umbrella before he closes the door behind him. He takes a seat at the back of the car, not bothering to put his seatbelt on.

”Good morning, Sir. Where will you be headed?” his chauffeur asks on the other side of the window that separates driver from passenger.

”Morning, Connors,” Lapis replies, running a hand through damp hair to neaten it. He debates in his mind whether he should piss off Topaz even more or actually do as she asks. He decides on the former. “Take me to that coffee shop on 4th Avenue,” he asks. Connors nods his head and puts his foot on the accelerator, pushing the car forwards.

Lapis watches the buildings of Pier Point fly by as they drive past. Tall skyscrapers touch sturdy bubbles that float above them that act as buildings in their own right. Billboards and screens advertise various IPC products that Lapis knows definitely do more harm than good but are still being sold regardless. Neon signs point to bars and restaurants with the aim of drawing the eye but only succeed in forcing the viewer to look away to prevent themselves from losing their eyesight. It is meticulously blinding and doesn’t do any favours with the slight hangover the Stoneheart is nursing. 

Connors turns a corner and travels on a road away from the cacophony of light and sound, slowing to a stop outside an easy-on-the-eyes building. He states, “We’re here, Sir,” and Lapis gives a non-commital grunt of affirmation before reaching for his umbrella and leaving.

”Stay here, Connors. I’ll be five minutes,” he directs before shutting the door and heading inside.

The coffee shop is a homely one. Mismatched chairs are tucked under old wooden tables and there is, oddly, a wide variety of clocks dotted around the walls. Cool browns and soft whites meet Lapis’ eyes as he scans the cozy place. A kind-looking woman stands behind the counter, blending a coffee mixture and pouring it into a cup. Once done, she turns and hands it to the patron on the opposite side of the cash register.

“That will be £5.50. Scan or swipe when you’re ready,” she says, her smile evident in her tone of voice despite the obscene price of her drinks. The customer mutters their thanks and turns away, giving a wide berth to Lapis as if he was poisonous to the touch (with his reputation, he probably was). Lapis pays them no mind and strolls up to the counter with the manner of a man much more care-free than he actually is. Once the barista looks up, her wide smile turns into a grin. “Lapis Lazuli, my loyal friend! Nice to see you again.” The way the woman looks him up and down as if he were something tasty does not go unnoticed by the executive, but he ignores it.

“Morning, Oti,” he responds, matching the smile of the woman opposing him.

“The usual?” Oti asks, already reaching under the counter for a cup.

“The very same,” Lapis replies easily. While his order is being made (a large salted caramel frappé with coffee and cream. Fancy and expensive – just like him), the feeling of dozens of eyes digging into the back of his neck reach his senses. This is not an abnormal occurance. Lapis Lazuli is a top dog around these parts; there will be several people who work under his chain of command in this cafe alone. There's a kind of power trip that occurs whenever he thinks on it. Money talks, as the saying goes.

A plastic cup (not biodegradable? Naughty boy-) filled with a delicious-looking iced frappé, whipped cream placed perfectly on top in a swirl that pokes out the hole in the semi-circular lid, is placed on the counter. A paper straw is poked inside it and is then pushed towards him. Lapis looks at it for a moment and smiles.

“Looks as delicious as ever, Oti,” he comments, picking it up and taking a sip. “Mmm, and tastes it too.”

“I'm glad you like it,” Oti replies, smiling. “That'll be £6.60.” Lapis digs in his pocket and fishes out his phone, tapping the top of it against the pin machine without paying any mind to the price.

“Brilliant. Thankyou, Sir. Come back soon!” the barista calls as the bell to the door rings out when Lapis leaves.

11:25am - Wednesday

IPC headquarters is as busy as it always is. Busy-body staff briskly walk past him with respectful (and scared) nods of acknowledgement as Lapis strolls through the main entrance. Soldiers and guards stand to attention and salute him. which he ignores in favour of heading to the secretary’s desk. There is a line that stands between him and the workers, but they all shift out of the way with terrified looks on their faces at a simple clearing of his throat. Lapis shoots them all a superficial smile and steps forward, reaching the desk and leaning on it comfortably.

“Good morning,” he begins, winking at the woman behind the desk. She looks up and startles at the sight of him, her face turning an ugly shade of red.

“Ah! Lapis Lazuli, Sir! What can I do for you, Sir?”

“Nothing much,” he replies with vague condescension. He takes an obnoxious sip of his coffee before continuing. “A little birdy told me that P45- Topaz is looking for me. Where is she?”

With trembling fingers, the woman taps on the keyboard and looks something up on her computer. “Sh- She's on the 57th floor, Sir. Room Six.” Lapis gives a hum of affirmation and leaves, slinking back through the queue and heading for the elevator.

When he finds Topaz, she looks like she's ready to strangle him.

“Does your watch work?” she asks as soon as he opens the door.

“Mmm, yes. It works perfectly fine, thankyou for asking. Why do you ask?” Lapis answers after another long sip of his coffee, finding great joy in the anger of his colleague.

“Okay, next question.” She strides up to him and plants herself a few inches away from him. She's a foot shorter than Lapis and has to look up at him, the irate look on her face reminding him of an angry bird. He decides not to point that out. “Do you know how to tell the time? Because I could have sworn I told you to meet me fifteen minutes ago.” She has the audacity to take the coffee out of his hand and slam it on the table beside them. He shoots her a small glare before fishing into his pocket and pulling out the banana he retrieved earlier, peeling it with a controlled slowness that would annoy anyone (including him if he wasn't the one doing it) and taking a large bite.

“Topaz, I have a PhD in mathematics. I can assure you that I know how to tell the time,” he says, mouth full.

“Then why, in Qlipoth's name, are you only here now?”

“Because I find great enjoyment in pissing you off. Was that not obvious?” he replies, gesturing between the two of them with banana in hand. Topaz opens and closes her mouth several times, finding the choice words she needs to get this over with as quickly as possible.

“The party is at 8pm on Friday. Black tie, so wear something decent for once. Opal is breathing down my neck to get you, Sugilite, and Obsidian on board and, surprisingly, Obsidian has been the most agreeable. Unlike you and Sugilite, she was actually there at the meeting this morning. I now see why you weren't in attendance.” She gives him a once over, gesturing to the lovebites on his chest and neck. 

“Y’know, I do actually have a social life, Topaz,” Lapis states. “You should try it some time.”

“I'm not saying you shouldn't have, uh- hobbies, Lapis. What I'm saying is that your job should come before them, or did you forget that?”

Lapis shrugs. “I'm here now, right?”

“That's not the point. You have duty here as one of the Stonehearts. Not a duty to your favourite casinos and clubs.”

“Let a man live a little, alright? I spent half my life in academic squalor seeking the attention of an Aeon that clearly wanted nothing to do with me. My life's work was made entirely useless. I might as well have received the attention of the Nihility if the Preservation didn't snap me up first.”

“Oh boo hoo, cry me a river,” Topaz snaps. “At least you have people here who give half a rat's ass about you.”

“That's becoming ever more debatable by the day,” Lapis seethes, demeanour now serious.

“Well too bad. You're here now. The only way you're getting out of this place is in a wooden box.”

“I can say the same for you, Topaz. How deep has Jade's manipulation really gone? I can't tell what's you and what's her anymore.”

“You don't know anything about me. You've been a Stoneheart for - what - a year? 10 months?” Topaz jabs a finger into his collarbone. Lapis doesn't move an inch.

“I don't need to know you. Your denial of it is proof enough.” Lapis smiles again, this time less cheery and more angry. The movement of his lips more a grimace than anything else. Topaz steps away from him, glaring daggers into his very soul. If Lapis wasn't, you know, Lapis, he would have wilted on the spot at such a murderous stare. She turns and stalks to the tall window of the room; a dreary view that shows the cityscape of Pier Point through the gloomy rain. 

“At the party,” she begins, facing away from him. “At least try to present yourself as a decent human being, alright?”

Lapis gives her a long, hard look, watching her through the reflection of the window. “You and I both know that's not possible for either of us. We've got too much blood on our hands.” He snatches his coffee from the table and heads for the door. His hand rests on the handle before he turns back to face the woman, who is still facing away from him. “Oh, and Topaz?”

She twists around and looks at him this time, watching him with a weary look that makes her look decades older than what she is. 

“What?”

“This could've been an email.”

He ducks out of the door before a stapler is launched at him from across the room.

--

Reblogs appreciated! <3

[disillusioneddanny]

DPxDC Negativity

Hey this is just a friendly reminder that I'm going to put in the plainest terms that I can.

If you are telling people how they should and should not participate in fandom you are GATEKEEPING

If you are telling people that they need to read more comics before writing fanfic you are GATEKEEPING

If you are telling people that they need to do more research into canon in any form, whether that be reading wikis, reading comics, watching shows, whatever you are GATEKEEPING

If you are telling people that what they are writing is not canon compliant and therefore not a valid way to participate in fandom you are GATEKEEPING

Fandom is supposed to be fun

Fanfiction is supposed to be fun

We are not writing these stories for anyone but ourselves. And to tell someone that they are participating in fandom wrong is GATEKEEPING

There are plenty of fanfics in the DC only sphere and the DP sphere that are so far away from canon it's unreal and that's totally okay!

People are allowed to enjoy fandom in however the hell they please. If that means they are writing a crap ton of Batfam/Danny Phantom content and not very much Justice League/DP content, that's totally okay.

If someone read the Wayne Family Adventures Webtoon and decided that they want to write Danny being adopted into a loving and crazy Batfamily that is totally one hundred percent fine.

If someone wants to write Danny with abusive and neglectful parents guess what? they can.

If they want to write Vlad as being a nurturing and loving godfather to Danny, they can.

What I'm trying to explain to you all is that it's okay to write things that are not canon compliant. It's okay to write things that are so far away from canon it's not even recognizable--I mean have you even read a fantasy au or a no capes au? That's basically just slapping a characters name and face to an OC. And guess what? THAT'S OKAY.

It's also okay to want to see more people interact with the canon lore, to want to share resources and tell people about your special interests. But the moment you start doing it and it makes people feel bad-- even if that is not your intention you are GATEKEEPING.

Gatekeeping is defined as the activity of controlling, and usually limiting, general access to something.

By you telling others what they should and should not write, you are being a gatekeeper.

I get it, you want to share lore, you want to show that you know all these cool things about DC. You want more than just batfam and DP content. That's totally valid and really cool.

Do it yourself.

Don't take someone else's joy away simply because it's not what you want to see. They aren't writing it for you, they're writing it for themselves. You're just a lucky person who gets to see the beautiful works that they are putting time and effort into.

When I joined DPxDC I knew absolute shit about DC. Over the last year, I've read over 400 issues of the Batman comics, read all of the Red Robin series, and a smattering of random other comics with plans to read others. But when I started writing? I knew jackshit. My knowledge came from the Teen Titans cartoon, the Batman animated series, and vague memories of watching the Justice League animated series as a kid.

And if Dis from a year ago saw this gatekeeping shit, they would have never started writing for the fandom because they would have been too scared to be told they were doing it wrong.

Now? I'm writing DC only fics based off of what I learned in the comics and it's a lot of fun.

But I did that because I wanted to, I was starting to get more and more interested in DC and I wanted to know more. And I had access to pay for DC Infinite so that I could get access to the comics. Not everyone has that luxury.

Not everyone has the luxury of being able to read them from free sites either. Maybe they have to use a public computer that doesn't have ad blockers. Maybe their local libraries don't have access to the comics. You don't know what their situation is.

Maybe you're being well intentioned. Maybe you're just wanting to share your wealth of knowledge with the fandom. But remember, if just one person is getting hurt by your statements, that means you're no longer being helpful. You're being harmful. You're scaring off a new fan who was super insanely excited to start sharing their headcanons.

You're making people feel unwelcome. And that's not fucking cool.

Fandom is supposed to be a welcoming space for everyone, it's supposed to uplift and bring joy. Not make people feel bad for not knowing enough, or for feeling too anxious to even begin figuring out where in the 75 year history of DC they should start reading.

I know that's what kept me from reading the comics for a long time. it was just too overwhelming. It still is overwhelming for me and thats with having friends telling me where to start and what comics are best to read.

Before I end this super hella long rant I want to remind you of one last thing.

You don't know what someone has read or researched before writing their fic. You don't know just how much they know about that character or universe. For all you know, they may have read, watched, consumed every single piece of DC media in existence. But they may still interpret it different than you did and that does not mean that their Bruce Wayne is OOC because it doesn't align with how you interpret Bruce Wayne. it just means that they view his character differently than you do.

And that's such a beautiful fucking thing don't you think? That a single character, a single universe, a single fucking line can be interpreted hundreds of different ways by hundreds of different people and it's still valid.

It's what makes fandom so freaking cool in the first place.

Like one day someone woke up and they were watching Danny Phantom and they thought hm, what if I had Danny Fenton go to Gotham one day and hang out with the bats? And next thing you know, now we have thousands upon thousands of different fanfics, fan art and HCs, all because of it. All because someone had that one idea and shared it and others saw it, interpreted it their own way, and decided to create even more.

And now we're here! And this fandom is beautiful and thriving. There are so many amazing and lovely people in this fandom. There are so many discords to talk about fandom, there's so many events, a DPxDC Bang is the works, a DPxDC fanzine is in the works.

That's so fucking cool and we should be celebrating that! Not making others feel bad for not knowing as much as others.

[hexenmond]

dividers in fanfiction: experimenting with screen readers

So I wrote up this tutorial on pretty AND accessible dividers for fanfiction (focusing on AO3, but this goes for every piece of text on the internet that has a divider somewhere). I confidently proclaimed that using an hr element instead of some random characters is the better way to do it, to accommodate screen reader users – but I had never actually tried it for myself.

I wanted to remedy that and took some time to experiment with a screen reader (Orca, because that was easiest for me to get my hands on). Setting that up was actually a bit of a hassle, so I captured the audio output to post it here, and you can hear for yourself what I'm talking about without having to bother with technology and then you can make up your mind about how you want to handle dividers in your own works.

I picked three pieces of fanfiction on AO3 that I knew off the top of my head had characters as dividers in them (because I love them! so much!!), selected a bit of text with the divider in the middle, and had Orca read it out to me. Here are the results:

Example #1: simple dreams of comfort by softestpunk

I tried this one first, and it confirmed my guess: the screen reader simply reads out the characters as it can't tell what they're supposed to mean.

Example #2: Pretending! Unless… by Aria_Lerendeair

This was up next, same thing in principle. Here I also found out that empty paragraphs are a little bit unwieldy if I wanted Orca to read the selected text. And also I was starting to get used to the voice by now.

Example #3: Tower and Rose by Moorishflower

Same thing, Orca reads "plusplusplus". As a bonus I discovered what happens when there is a full stop missing (did you catch it?). And this was also when I realised that I really could get used to that objectively awful reading voice. Like, if my other options were more tiring, or I had none? I'd probably try different readers, and I'd spend a lot of time tweaking the settings (there are SO MANY SETTINGS), and then I'd enjoy my favourite fics anyway.

And how does an actual hr divider get read?

Orca by default reads it as "separator". Which is not all that great either in my opinion, BUT I could teach it to just read it as a three second pause. Or make it say "skip" or whatever I like. That would be fairly easy to do, but teaching it how to read every random string of characters – not so much.

So, bottom line? It's less problematic than I thought. Sure, "asteriskasteriskasterisk" in the middle of a story doesn't sound nice. But I could get used to that meaning "separator". Brains are flexible like that. It does increase cognitive load a little, but not that badly I think. (Cognitive load is useful a concept, I'll write more about that soon.)

If you have published on AO3 and you'd like to convert to hr elements in your works (those can also be styled to look very nice!), I wrote a step by step tutorial on how to safely and easily replace the random characters with hr elements. If you use it, let me know how it worked for you! Constructive criticism very welcome 🙃

Oh and: I actually made a cool tool that lets you push sliders around instead of fiddling with code! Go ahead and design some lovely dividers for yourself. No CSS skills required, just copypaste the resulting code into your work skin!

@softest-punk, @aria-lerendeair, @moorishflower:

I hope this does not make you feel put on the spot (not at all my intention), but maybe rather a little flattered as I really did know those three fics sufficiently well to remember they had different strings of text as dividers. It's not quite the same as someone making fanart but… right now I'm just loads better at coding than at drawing. So, do with this possibly newfound knowledge as you will! And also whenever you will, I imagine you've all JUST come out the other end of Dreamling Week, phew… I am writing this with much love for you and your fics 🥰🥰🥰

[marshmallowprotection]

Would Ray let mc give him a hug after the encounter with v? When he cries and wonders if he can ever make mc happy, it gets me every time. I wish I could comfort Ray more

Ray felt like a failure at that moment. There is no other word to truly describe what he felt. The person he was most terrified of appeared in front of him and he couldn't do anything to protect you.

He promised himself that he would be brave now, that he would do everything in his power to protect you, and he collapsed in front of you instead of being the noble hero he wanted to be. He wasn't like the prince he always imagined he would be. He felt pathetic, and spineless at best. He never wanted you to see that side of him. He never wanted you to see him in pain or terrified of the person he's been made to believe is a real monster.

If he can't stand his ground in front of V, what if he does the same in front of his twin brother? What if he ultimately fails to protect you when it matters most again? What if he's not good enough? What if he'll never be good enough? What if he'll never be strong enough? That's just the thing. Rika told him Ray won't be enough, he'll NEVER be enough, and that he should be gone soon so the "strong" Saeran can exist.

He believes in his heart he's not supposed to exist forever, he's only supposed to exist until he doesn't matter anymore to the Savior. The very moment he met you, he started to believe otherwise, started to believe that maybe he could exist in this world as long as he believed in what you told him, but that moment shattered that illusion and he realized he could never exist in the world outside of paradise.

The reason why he denies your affection in that moment is because he knows he's not worthy. You do get to reason with him for a brief moment but it's like he can't hear you. He's just not worthy. That's the only thing he can think about. How can he accept your love when he can't even protect you from a monster who haunts his nightmares at all hours of the day? If he's not worthy, how can he allow himself the chance to know your touch? Your praise? He isn't worthy of praise by any means, he thinks.

You deserve better than someone who can't protect you.

Is there a way to hold him when he hits rock bottom? For you to cradle his head against your chest so he can hear the gentle lull of your beating heart? Yes, of course, there is. It comes days later... in the same garden, when you stroke his cheek and kiss him so deeply he'll understand how you feel about him. It may not be the same as being able to comfort him when he's sobbing about Jihyun on that fourth night, but... that's how long it takes to break through to him and help him see that he doesn't have to prove himself to be worthy of love.

He's been worthy the entire time.

That's important to understand for what happens after you embrace him. At that moment, he decides that he might be worthy of the outside world, and of your love, and that goes against everything Rika stands for. Why do you think he's pulled into the basement after that night? It’s the kiss… it’s your whispers of love and praise. Rika’s seen what you’ve done for Ray, and she wants to use you to her benefit to get what she wants. You can't show him he's worthy and get him out of Mint Eye, but, in her eyes? You can show him he's worthy so she's able to break him for good.

I wish there was a way to hold him tight on the fourth night, but he's simply not in the headspace to accept your embrace. I would definitely write about it if somebody sent it in as a request specifically, because we can imagine whatever we want in the realm of fanfiction, but as far as it goes for the actual situation? I understand why we're not able to do it in the moment. 

[tozettastone]

RE: "there's so little F/F fanfiction," and its supposed relationship to misogyny, unexamined "fandom truly hates women," statements, and also why "eating your veggies" ala dutyfic is all kind of... inadequate and poorly expressed, in my view (and in my experience, as an AFAB person).

--

"Fandom hates women," is a statement that's usually written as though the person writing it does not hate women themselves. I think feminists who can't acknowledge their own misogyny are probably living the unexamined life (sorry, Socrates).

These people are right that misogyny is a problem. But they are wrong about how, why, and whether or not the amount of F/F fanfiction or female character-centric works is a proxy for measuring it.

I think there must be room to accept that among the people who happen to be assigned female at birth, even the most liberated suffer from some amount of internalised misogyny — or even just the relentless examination of their own thoughts in trying to root out the misogyny they know is in there. It's an ugly thing people really try to pretend isn't real. Feminists are also misogynists. Society has raised us all ugly and correcting it is a lifestyle, not a one-and-done deep clean.

Sometimes we've thought about it so much that every line of text is haunted by the long shadow of that misogyny. I know I often start and don't finish, or finish and just don't post, my f/f fanfics. It's not just because it attracts more harassment (although it sure used to, at least; I don't know now), but also because I overthink what I'm putting into the world: Is her vulnerability in this moment an attitude of feminine weakness? Is her stoicism just me the writer falling into a bland stoic butch trope because it's easy? Am I replicating gendered things I hate in M/F fanfiction but don't notice in F/F? Is this just writing in character, or is it a sexist stereotype? Hey, what if writing "in character" IS a sexist stereotype? What does this female character, a representative of her entire constructed identity, say about women? Shall I write another scene where she cuts her soft hair and rejects pink girly things and takes her job ever so seriously as part of a power fantasy, in which the excision of femininity goes hand in hand with the attainment of that power?

Every line of text might be a new enfilade in the long identity war. It's Schrodinger's sexism. Who's reading? What will this imply? What will they infer?

I just feel like, personally, until you can exist in society as someone that other people view as a woman, in a way that isn't being perpetually dissected and examined (by yourself, by others, by the people who feel insecure and defensive and want to respond to this saying "uhmmm sweetie that's YOUR problem, I'm an enlightened woman who genders and fucks how I want actually, YOU'RE the only misogynist here, you just suck," as though that's not yet another permutation of exactly the high-pressure, high-critique behaviour I just described), there will simply be fewer people putting their writing about female characters (and by extension F/F) into the public eye, and fewer people who want to do that writing at all.

It's just so fucking exhausting. I think it must be nice, sometimes, writing deathly boring (to me) M/F romance that openly embraces gender stereotypes, where she's always taken by surprise, and he's always competent. Ha.

But then you attempt a M/M romance, and you have to think, "isn't writing masculinity as the totally unexamined default actually kind of an act of collusion, too?" It doesn't have to be. But it sure can be, when you feel like this. And then you throw your laptop out the window. (I'm writing this on my phone. How did you guess?)

You have to draw a line somewhere, horribly, between your existence in a politicised body, your representation of politicised bodies in your art, and your existence as an individual who wants to enjoy their fucking hobby.

Maybe that means you delete all your social media accounts and go herd goats on a mountainside. Or you write about aliens for five years and give them whatever genitals you feel like today. But, like, listen. It's going to be fine. Gender is made up. I know, I know, pretty much everyone else thinks it's a holy binary, just like good and evil, and you have to live in the same world with them, sending coded gender messages all day every day and unable to stop. I know. But it is made up anyway.

Key takeaways: People should write whatever they enjoy writing and kind of just worry less about it. Worrying isn't helping you make fun art. And the amount of fanfiction about female characters and F/F relationships is a poor proxy for whatever we think we mean when we say, "fandom hates women."

[todomitoukei]

I don't usually dislike endings to things. I am very easy to please. Usually when I see a movie it's my favorite movie immediately until I watch another movie.

But like. It really hurts to see that every character I related to has been screwed over or killed in some way. I understand that it's my fault for being a villain fan, for relating to Dabi's and Tomura's and Himiko's backstories despite them having killed people and thinking that the series would extend them a modicum of kindness that it had been saying it could, that I am now hurt like this. I understand not all series are like DBZ in which they spare most of their villains like Vegeta or 18 or Majin Buu. Not every protagonist is Goku, not every antagonist is Frieza. I get it.

It'd be fine if there were just us villain fans complaining into the void. Even if I were the only one upset, it'd be fine. I've had unpopular opinions before, I just wrote AU fanfiction for it then. I'm familiar with death to canon, I am in the FNAF and Danny Phantom fandoms, my favorite characters are William Afton and freaking Pariah Dark. What hurts most is the posts claiming that there's something wrong with my reading comprehension for not liking how things ended. That I should've known it was coming and agreed with them being killed off like that and that I'm stupid for expecting otherwise, that it was the only realistic option. Realistic, when there are characters who survived far worse, such as Nagant who exploded twice and Toshinori who had his intestines ripped out. Realistic when there's a boy who can literally explode his own sweat and a girl who is a frog.

Why do we immediately jump to question someone's reading comprehension and intelligence when they have a different opinion? And why is it my fault if I misunderstood a work, and not the author's for making things unclear? Isn't the point of reading to make your own understanding and discuss it with others, isn't that what's supposed to be fun about this? I'm hesitant to really talk about my opinions on MHA because of this, that's why I am sending this on anon and with a pseudonym. I don't like being called stupid, even if someone doesn't say it to my face. It makes me want to leave the fandom and go watch something else.

I hope I'm not just reading antagonism into people's posts, my family says I tend to read antagonism into people's actions where there isn't any. But it really feels like they are upset with us when I see it over and over again and see people saying "LOV stans DNI" and stuff.

Sorry for the huge wall of text, I guess I'm more upset about the fandom than the ending itself. I tried to format this in a way that is understandable, but it is very hard to type on mobile.

I hope you have a good day and thank you for your time. I appreciate the chance to vent anonymously. It's been eating at me since Shigaraki's end.

Feel free to delete this if you change your mind about hosting the vents, and if you start feeling badly do please take care of yourself. Don't forget to drink a water and eat a food.

- Doppio

First of all, no worries, your feelings are absolutely valid so don't let anyone tell you otherwise!

It's interesting people say us being upset about the villains' endings is due to a lack of reading comprehension when, like you said, it's inconsistent when taking into account the fact that the hero characters simply all get better off, surviving the craziest things while the villains die if someone just looks at them funny.

If I could be bothered and had the time or energy I could dissect the entire trainwreck that is this story and talk about how bad the writing is. This is not me being subjective, it's simply objectively not a well-written story. It's fine if people enjoy it and even like the ending, but objectively speaking, it is full of inconsistency, retconning and even if we take the technicalities out of it, the messages the story sends in the end are just awful.

The fact the story starts and ends by verbally telling us it's about reaching out to and helping people, only for anyone that is part of an oppressed group (queer people, physically and mentally disabled people, abuse victims etc) and is somehow different cannot and will not be saved, while the perpetrators, those in privileged positions of power, will continue to live life without any actual consequences is rather questionable.

If the story had always had that black and white tone, if it had always suggested to us that people that suffer and stand up for themselves will be left behind and rot in jail or die, fine. But the story suggested on multiple occasions that they could be saved and that they also had a point.

So don't let anyone tell you that you're wrong or don't have reading comprehension when the opposite is true. We have every right to feel frustrated when the ending doesn't line up with the messages it used to send and replaced them with the worst messages a hero story (or any story for that matter) could send.

Also, anyone that feels seen and represented by the lov, please know that you're valid and that you do deserve the best and that it's never too late for anyone to be saved and get better.

I wish the story and fandom understood that fiction is never completely separate from reality and that when we talk about certain topics or people we also indirectly talk about real people that relate to these topics or people (which is why removing Touya's scars in fanart or edits for example or making fun of his or Tenko's skin is highly problematic).

I hope you have a good day too despite everything!

[mushroomsmusing]

The following post is meant to be silly and light-hearted. However, the advice is very real. I'm no expert, just someone who's been writing for over 12 years and wished they'd started with better habits.

Are you thinking of starting writing?

Do you want to write and post your work, be it original content or fanfiction?

Well I have some tips for you! These are all things that I wish I had known when I started writing because it's much harder to change bad habits than it is to start with good ones.

Advice and personal experience below the cut!

Keep in mind I've been writing for 12+ years (literally since I was a child), but have only recently started sharing my works outside of close friends. Do with that what you will.

1) For the love of the gods, please do some sort of pre-planning/plotting! It doesn't have to be a full outline, but you'll be kicking yourself when you're halfway through a story and you've forgotten what's supposed to happen next.

- I'm a hard-core pantser, and I'm only now starting to write down a rough estimate of the planned plot for my stories. It was a life altering change that I implemented when I decided to start posting online.

2) DO NOT compare yourself to other writers. I know, it's tempting, but they are not you. Everyone has different writing styles, levels of experience, and education, so there really shouldn't be any comparing between authors/writers.

- I'm a very anxious people-pleaser. It took a while for me to feel comfortable sharing my works, but when I stopped comparing my writing to other peoples' writing, I felt much more confident. What matters is that you grow and hone your craft on your own time at your own pace.

3) Don't hurt your health to get fics/stories done. Sounds simple enough, right? However I know many writers (myself included) who are simply incapable of following this advice.

- I stayed up until 3:45 last night (aka this morning) to work on my fics. This was a horrible idea! But I'm working on prioritizing sleeping over finishing a chapter. Please please please do not let your writing interfere with your health (this includes, but is not limited to: skipping sleep/water/meals to write, consuming excessive caffeine, and sitting for prolonged periods of time without stretching.) Start with good habits now so you don't hate yourself later!

4) The biggest thing to remember though, is to do what works for you.

- I don't work well with rigid outlining, so I don't do that. I do work well with music in my ears, so I utilize that often. There are some writers who are the complete opposite of me and need to outline but hate music while writing. Figure out what works for you! Take in all the advice you can, but tailor it to your needs.

I have a lot more advice I could give, but this is the stuff I wish someone had told me when I started writing. Feel free to send asks or message me if you want to talk about writing or just want to chat in general!

[caffeine-clouds]

All your Sonic takes are valid, okay?

Hello, today I am your pastor. Where is your regular pastor? I totally didn't throw him off a bridge. Anyways, sit down because I'm here to preach about a blue hedgehog man. I've seen a lot of discussion around Sonic's characterization in Sonic Prime and how some people absolutely adore the show's take, and some people hate it. Now this could have led the fandom to having interesting debates but alas this is the internet - where interesting debates simply do not happen. (I've seen a lot more toxic arguing on Twitter, the Tumblr crowd is much cooler) But it got me thinking, at least - what is Sonic supposed to be? Who is he?

And I think that answer will change depending on who you ask. Sure, we can get some basic traits of him down. We know he's a good guy, he fights for freedom, he a bit snarky, but loves the people around him. But this is surface level stuff, right? Let's discuss his overall demeanour- "He's relaxed and nonchalent!" This half yells. "He's hyper and energetic!" The other shouts. Hold on, how did this happen?

The answer is simple, my friends - it's the Sonic franchise's inconsistent writing! You are not the problem. Sonic has had so many different takes on his personality throughout the years and throughout different media that it's gotten to a point where there's no 'correct' way to write or interpret this little blue guy anymore. "Black Knight is peak Sonic!" someone cries "No, Movie Sonic is!" Another claims. How can that be when they're so different? Because there is no right answer. People have had different experiences with his character depending on what they were first introduced to or simply what they like better. A lot of people don't like 'meta era' Sonic but there are some people who still do and think Sonic is just supposed to be a quippy goofball in colourful environments in basic stories. It depends so much on personal preference.

This isn't just limited to Sonic either - who is Shadow supposed to be? "The man who learnt to fight for humanity, upholding a promise to the one that meant the most to him - learning to put the past behind him and fighting on for the good of others with a stoic, no nonsense attitude" or is he "Haha Sonic's rival go brr, he so obsessed with him and wants to kick his ass" Shadow has been written as both of these throughout his lifetime, arguably he has spent his time in the more recent games being written as the latter - as much as so many people prefer the former. However, some people interpet the most modern entries as more canon - so therefore, they accept and prefer the latter. I am honestly surprised at the amount of takes I saw that saw Shadow as just a meanie rival until I came to this conclusion. I could go on for every character, but I'm not going to because that would take too much time. So all in all, your takes? So valid my man. If you don't like Prime because of Sonic's characterization - that's so cool, just don't call the show objectively bad for it - because it is not. It's a you thing. And there are plenty of others who agree with that opinion. If you love Prime Sonic - also great, don't shit on people for thinking otherwise - your opinion, and there are plenty more that agree with you. Honestly I think the best characterizations of Sonic I see in the fandom spheres are the ones that can pull inspo from a lot of the different Sonic media throughout time and can mix and match the stuff they like. That's uniqueness, that's fun - I wanna read that. It may not be 'accurate' to the version of Sonic you like, but who cares? If it's not your thing, don't like - don't read. That's why, in terms of writing Sonic fanfiction - saying "make sure to not make the characters OOC!" is like- one of the worst pieces of advice?? Like what is even 'in character'?'? That advice simply doesn't WORK for this series. All you need are the bare minimum basic traits, and the rest - develop as you like. Their basic profiles are the pizza dough, and you are choosing your toppings. Choose the Sonic media and fan content that you like to consume, and respect the people who like the toppings that you don't - because no one is forcing you to eat their pizza.

[kyokoenthusiast]

❤️🥳💌

❤️ What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic?

This is a difficult one, so I suppose it's good to start with that. I'm not my best with creative writing, and I don't have the freshest memory of everything I've ever written, but let's see.

Off the top of my head, I would say that the line "However grim her future might be, she only hoped it was the right thing," from the very end of Chapter 9: The Right Thing in AFOD (spoilers below for it).

That chapter is likely my favorite thus far, and this line specifically kinda encapsulates the very idea of it. The struggle of wanting to be a better person, a feeling that anything is better than your current path. "The right thing" is a destination Byleth seeks that's left ambiguous and without detail. There's no exact goal, just a desire of self-acceptance.

She believes herself dead, and as long as that is better for everyone, she's willing to go. It's unhealthy, of course, but she doesn't know that. Her perception of morality is rather immature at the time. The flashback at the beginning attempts to communicate that. It's simplistic. Black and white. But the desire to be better, to do what's right, is relatable.

🥳 Why did you start writing fanfic?

The first thing I ever wrote was fanfiction, actually. Though, that thing needs to stay buried in the mountains of paper it's currently under. I don't say that because I found my early teens to be cringe or whatever (it was), but because of dialogue and topics that I find morally reprehensible today. Nothing too egregious, but also nothing anyone needs to see, nor am I comfortable sharing.

I rediscovered fanfic after getting my most severe hyperfixation ever with FE3H. At the time I had been writing and revising the same original story for almost a decade and after a year of stagnation after binging the Edeleth tag, I had so much inspiration that I just had to write something with these two women.

Reading and writing fanfic honestly should've made me realize I was gay a lot sooner, but I'm the most fucking oblivious person on the planet, lol.

💌 Is there a favorite trope you like to write?

I haven't written it specifically, but I have a guilty pleasure with amnesiac stories. Something to do with a fantasy of a clean slate protagonist who attempts to overcome their past misdeeds. The stark contrast of their past and present self is fun to see, and when their past self bleeds a little into the present, it can just be simply entertaining. It does forgo a lot of slow character development, but there's just something about someone's metaphorical mask being forcibly removed, not just to other people, but themselves, that is... almost euphoric? Freeing? It's difficult to describe, I suppose.

Though, as for something I've written myself? I suppose the modern AU setting would be my most common trope. I enjoy the setting immensely. It's relatable and much more tangible than others. That's not to discount other settings such as fantasy and sci-fi btw. Hell, I wouldn't be here right now if not for my favorite fantasy lesbian couple.

But like, imagine the rough feeling of asphalt on your bare feet, the mushy snow collecting near a curb, the heavy heated air of a heater in the middle of winter, the sound of a running car on the side of an isolated road, the smell of a cigarette passing by in the air.

These are things most of us are intimately familiar with, something we've felt before, and that familiarity helps descriptions and scenes feel that much more real, gritty, and tangible. And that's just something I like to portray. Romanticizing the day-to-day.

I'm rambling. I just don't wanna spend 3 hours researching sword stances, strategy, and trying to figure out what century is a good reference for Fodlan. (I'm joking. I feel like I should note that.)

[beevean]

Lets spread awareness around the fandom. Thoughts on Hevor ?

Finally, someone around asking the real important questions uwu

I think I said everything I could say about it? Hella underrated in my humble opinion. I understand that Trevor doesn't interact with Hector much in the game proper, but c'mon, all the ingredients for a solid enemies-to-rivals-to-friends-to-lovers/defrosting ice king arc are there!

First of all, I will be remiss if I don't point out the amazing tension between them during their first fight :P

My good man was very much enjoying whipping the silver haired pretty boy into submission :P and he's so damn sassy, "wow you're supposed to be the scary Devil Forgemaster I heard so much about? lol. lmao even." between him and isaac being a bitch in the first cutscene, poor hec getting bullied by his bfs :(

But then he accepts that Hector really is on his side and he had misjudged him before (and in Japanese this is the moment they both switch from kisama to omae, love when it does that), and he decides to whip him into submission again test his strength to deem if he's worth of helping him, you know much like he did with his friends in CV3! And this time Hector is a good match for him, and that's when Trevor turns... weirdly passionate. Like, I'm not the only one who thinks he sounds just a little too concerned, am I? Even more so in Japanese??

and then isaac stabs/molests him because how dare he touch his hector and we never see him again :D

Well, anyway. We're left to imagine what happens after the events of CoD, and we know that Trevor was left in Julia's care after being stabbed so Hector is bound to see him one last time at the very least, talk with him. Sure, maybe Hector decides that he's done with a life of fighting and he never sees Trevor again, but he could also become an ally of his as a way to make up for his mistakes.

As for their dynamic, you have Hector on one side who is relatively the only sane man and Tired of Everyone's Shit (especially now that he's not Cursed lol), and on the other you have the King of Slaying, Trevor who is very well aware of how charismatic he is and he's not afraid of showing off :P at least think of the comedic potential. A bit more seriously, in a hypothetical rewriting of CoD, the two might bump into each other more often, and we might learn that Trevor knew about the atrocities Hector committed under Dracula's name, maybe even saw him and Isaac personally, and that's why he didn't give him the benefit of the doubt unlike he did with, say, Alucard; and Hector could swear that he really regrets what he's done and he will do anything to atone for his sins, and maybe he'd help Trevor during their travels, and the two could learn to actually trust each other and see each other's best parts, Trevor's pure heart and Hector's more noble side. Also, they were both shunned from society due to their powers, but Hector could admire Trevor for never feeling resentment and immediately jumping to help the same people who hated him, while Trevor might sympathize with Hector and commend him for eventually finding the strenght to break free from Dracula's influence.

also yeah insert kinky jokes here one has a whip and the other goes around wearing chains and tight leather pants do i really have to spell out the obvious here

In short, you do have to kind of write a whole fanfiction by yourself, unlike say Isaactor where the proof that Isaac wanted Hector is all but text :P but I think they have potential! Either as different people growing closer, or simply as rivals with plenty of UST :P

[the-fangirl-diaries]

Hello!

For those who are just following me or who've just become mutuals with me, here's a post that can help you get to know me a little bit more.

My name's Jessyca and I'm from Canada. I post now and then if I have anything remotely important to say or just wanna spew random thoughts. I'm also Batman, but you're not supposed to know that so forget I told you.🤫 (This is a joke, by the way. I WISH I could be that awesome!)

I am in a lot of fandoms including (but not limited to) Avengers, Good Omens, James Bond, Peaky Blinders, Pirates of the Caribbean, Puss in Boots, Sherlock Holmes, The Sandman, Three Musketeers (2011) Twilight, and Umbrella Academy. I'd be happy to talk about any of those topics, or maybe you can introduce me to some new stuff.

Sometimes it takes me a bit to truly feel comfortable with someone, but I promise you I don't bite! 😁

As far as activity goes, it's a bit of a toss-up. I will usually pop on in the early mornings before starting my day or at night just before bed, but other than that anywhere from 11:00AM - 8:00 PM is usually when I am busy with projects or staring at a blank screen watching the cursor blink.

Sorry, I was trying to be funny there.

Seriously, though. I have about five or six different stories that I am working on and have yet to publish to the world wide web, including two fanfictions, I make audios for YouTube and Patreon that I have to write scripts and record, I also make edits for TikTok.

By the end of the day I am left feeling pretty worn out mentally, so sometimes all I want to do is kick back, relax and watch a little bit of TV and unplug from social media.

On top of that, there are real life obligations I must tend to, as I am sure a lot of you do, and I have family coming over almost every week, which I honestly desperately need because it encourages me to unplug for a bit and live in the moment without worrying about deadlines and stuff.

It is tricky to juggle it all at once and schedules can change and if I don't respond to comments, messages and posts you've mentioned me in right away, please be patient with me and understand that I am in no way doing it on purpose and will respond when I can, even if it takes me a while to do so.

I wish I could just set a consistent schedule and tell myself to work on one thing at a time, but my brain hasn't gotten the message yet, so until then, I greatly appreciate your patience.

Just because we don't talk everyday or sometimes have periods where we don't speak for weeks or months at a time, it doesn't mean we're not friends, it simply means we trust each other enough to check in every now and then.

We all have struggles, some we keep hidden from the rest of the world, we all go through rough times, and if you are one of those people, I see you, I love you and I support you and I want you to take care of yourself, even if it means taking that extra step. Find your safe space, find a place where you can forget about your troubles for a bit, be it online or offline. If you are not in the right headspace to be on social media and need to take a break for the sake of your mental health, please do so!

I value healthy friendships, which means when we have conversations, we both feel comfortable around each other and we respect each other's time and feelings. Therefore, I am not obligated to respond to messages that are inappropriate or rude. Like I said, if I don't respond to messages, it is because I am busy with the things listed above, or I am asleep and I don't have the talent to text people in my sleep and need I go into time zones? They are wacky!

I am sure a lot of us would prefer to keep any sort of conversations light-hearted, and I can understand that because I do tend to worry a lot about everything and everyone, sometimes to the point I can't even sleep at night.

Anyway, that's all. I am sorry if this is long, I feel like I just needed to post this just in case any of you wanted to know a little more about me and my life behind the screens. Get it? Instead of behind the scenes? ...... I'm gonna show myself out now.

[thebittercorvus]

Amelia didn't thought much of it, when professor Sprouts asked the class to present an essay on their preferred mythological creature. She did found it extremely funny-- and a bit convenient as well, since her roommate had recently took a liking to everything vampire related and she's been learning through osmosis basically. Last month it was everything about frogs. And at the beginning of the year they got really serious about bread.

Sometimes she can see glimpses of what seems to be a normal person under the unhinged, uncontrolled chaos that they are. One day they locked themselves inside the closet to, quote, fight the moon. But they pay in time and keep things in the common spaces neat. So, they're alright.

And she got full points for the assignment too, which was sort of rare for professor Sprouts, who despite her nice appearance and grandma-core cardigans, gave everyone the hardest time in her class. It was such a big deal for her, she finally treated herself for a cookie from that shop across the street whose owner, a tall goth that goes by the name of Mephisto, she's convinced stepped straight out of a book by Mary Shelley.

And, y'know how sometimes you'd laugh at the characters of a horror story for doing all of the things that might get them haunted and killed? Some people would argue, it's unfair to expect characters to be aware they're inside a story, let alone its genre as well.

If you were to apply that idea in her life, she'd say, for sure, she's the main character living inside one of those pretentious movies in which nothing ever happens.

Apparently she missed the writing on the walls.

"So, let me get this straight," she says, rubbing her temple and feeling a headache that's just about to begin. "You're a vampire hunter who got cursed during the Witch Trials of Salem and has been reborn every since," she says, pointing at none other than Mephisto, sitting rather uncomfortably for a person their height, in the tiny ass couch that's on the apartment she shares with her lunatic-- read with endearment-- roommate.

"Certainly so," they reply because of fucking course that someone that calls themselves Mephisto would speak like that.

"And you," she then points at her professor, miss freaking Daisy Sprouts, who asked for the essay to begin with, has like four hundred art doctorates and restores paintings professionally, wears knitted cardigans in pastel colors, raises fucking bees, still dabs unironically, can use the word "sussy" in a sentence correctly and knows the motherfucking Bee Movie script to heart. "You. Are a vampire. Since the times of fucking Cleopatra?!"

And she smiles, like she just revealed she bought another vintage sweater. "Time flies am I right? Also, Mel, do you happen to have a dog in here? It sort of reeks of dog, don't you think Mephisto? It hit me as soon as I-"

Amelia missed the writing on the walls. All of the walls, all of the writings, the entire room sorta, she probably didn't realize this morning when she woke up that she would end up being involved in whatever nonsense this is now.

Well in her defense, she never got the script. How was she supposed to know.

"I helped you kill a cockroach yesterday!" She yells, interrupting the vampire's ramblings about a dog that doesn't exist, at least not inside the flat.

"And I thanked you! Those things are about as terrifying as their search history, y'know?" she says, pointing at the goth in the room. Mephisto simply frowns, while she smiles.

Also they're married. Because of course they are.

And she's officially inside a romcom. Or a fanfiction. Or an indie film, a really weird one.

"So, listen, we're here 'cause your essay got like. Extremely specific at certain points and like," professor Sprouts pointed at herself, and then her spouse. "Really we just wanna know how you stumbled upon your sources. 'Cause it's borderline stalkey y'know, no offense."

"None taken...?" she says, getting progressively more confused, and stressed. Yep there's the headache. "Right. So. You might laugh."

"I'm not known for having a great sense of humor," says Mephisto in the most deadpan expression mankind has ever witnessed.

"Right, they're super lame," Sprouts pipes in.

Whatever. This is not even the weirdest thing that will be said in this conversation, I'm sure, she thinks. "So, my roommate, they go by Aries alright, so, they've been like really into vampire stuff as of lately and like, I just kinda listen to them while I do my homework? I'm not much of a conversationalist myself and like, I think they love the sound of their own voice," she explains, and that has to be the longest sentence she's stringed in the entire month. "Anyways, they sent me some links and since your assignment came up, I just uh... Used that. So. Pure dumb luck."

The two of them blink. As in. In unison.

She's convinced, she'd pretty much rather listening to her uncles speak about how snowflakes doomed the world, instead of having to ever explain this exchange to anybody. Ever.

"So, you mean to tell me you're not part of a secret organization whose entire purpose is to tailgate us," says professor Sprouts, after a beat of uncomfortable silence.

And she could swear. Mephisto smirks. Sorta.

"Uh, no." As if she'd ever have time between her classes and her job and being in touch with her mom and taking care of a dying cacti in order to begin a whole-ass conspiration about her university teacher and the owner of the coffee shop. Who is she, Yagami fucking Light. No, all her brainpower is already being used. She's not sure there's enough left of it for this conversation. She might pass out for an entire day after this. "I literally just. Followed some blog. Listen I didn't want to disappoint you but I didn't take the assignment that seriously professor Sprouts, I just needed the extra credits. I bullshited my way to college, of course I'm going to bullshit my way out of an essay."

"You mean to tell me you girlbo--"

"Please don't," she whispers weakly. And professor Sprouts decides to leave it at that but she can see how proud she is of making her lose her patience. And for once, Mephisto sort of looks like they're sorry about all of this.

Although it all disappears once she blinks. So maybe it was just the sleep deprivation.

"I can just like, give you the blog I found most of this in and like, you try and contact the writer? I mean they were the ones who put together the entire thing anyways, if it seems stalkey like. Ask them. Please leave." Oops she wasn't supposed to say the last part out loud.

"Alright, alright! I can read between the lines, jeez, I just wanted to know how could anybody possibly keep such an exact archive of these things," she says, getting up and fixing her dress. Mephisto gets up as well and their head almost hits the ceiling. "Seriously, it's almost as if they were following ever since-- Hey now hold on a goddamn minute."

And, as if struck with a wave of inspiration, professor Sprouts looks at Mephisto, calculating. They look away in turn.

Great. And they were about to leave too.

"Honey, have you been archiving our entire lives for centuries without telling me?" She asks, crossing her arms across her chest.

They at the very least have the decency to look mildly embarrassed about it.

"... I was planning to make it an anniversary gift," they explain quietly. "Certainly I was not expecting to see the work of my life be part of an essay."

"Listen pal, I'm sorry, really, but like if you put it out in the internet where everyone can access it, eventually a student with like thirty minutes of sleep time and six energy drinks in their system will tear it apart for an essay," she explains, unblinking and uncaring. Nobody is going to return to her the time she just spent clearing this up.

Oh well. At least professor Sprouts looks deeply touched about it. Good for her. Or sorry that it happened. Whatever.

"Oh, my moonlight-!"

"Out! Please! I have to work in like three hours!" She declares firmly, once it looks like the eternal couple will begin to make heart eyes at each other in the middle of the living-room. Hard pass.

Eventually they leave, looking so enamored with each other that she might just have to check the levels of sugar in her body after this.

But first, she's going to finally take a hard earned nap and--

"Uh, Amelia? Could I bother you?" Jesus goddamn Christ in his holy fucking cross! Can't a woman get peace and quiet?!

"Aries, I'm really tired right now," she says instead, after considering murdering everyone in the building for three whole seconds. "Whatever it is, it can wait."

"... No, it really can't," they insist, and walks across the room until they're right in front of her. Great. "This is something you must know. I'm aware you see me only as a roommate, but I must confess, that I see you as a friend, and as such, I cannot hide this secret from you any longer."

Great, just what I needed. Now they're going to say that they've got a crush on me or something and I'll have to reject them and it's going to be a nightmare and--

"Amelia, I'm actually a werewolf."

...

Yeah it's going to be one of those long, long days.

You were happy with getting an A+ on your “vampire myths” essay, with a comment about how you did excellent research, but you thought that was the end of it. A few days later, though, you open your door to find a vampire and a vampire hunter on your porch.

[22degreehalo]

Like LotR is a bit of a sore spot for me because. I tried to read it when I was 15 or so. And I just didn't really like it!!!!!!

Admittedly, I was already overdosed on fantasy novels and losing interest in it as a genre. But just as a solo reading experience, I sort of found it continually Unenjoyable.

And I felt so... Stupid for that?? Because /obviously/, LOTR is good. I had friends and family who were into it. And it's just Objective Fact. As an example, we watched the Director's commentary of the movie for school and I vividly remember a guy talking about how obviously 'bad writing' it is that we find out what happened with Merry and Pippin and the Ents unceremoniously, and then only slowly get all the 'suspense raising' stuff when we already know the end. "But it works!" the man crowed, as though that were a foregone conclusion, like no more needed to be said.

I admitted one time, online, to having bounced off it. And I got a response that to this day I struggle to parse: that it's okay, because people enjoy different themes in stories, and they personally would rank their interests Characters first, World second, and Plot last, and that's why they enjoyed LotR, but if someone valued things differently, they might not!

And... That just sounded so /reasonable/, so I felt like it had to be true. Even though I felt kinda - stupid? Because, 'plot' isn't what you normally associate with deep thinkers, right? That's more the domain of flashy action movies, right?

But. LotR. Is SO, SO PLOTTY. Almost everything revolves around external Problems the characters have to Solve!!!!!!! The LotR movies ARE flashy action movies!!!!!!! And, sure, World? LotR has it, yeah!!! Often in the form of 'here are the Bad People and what Historical People did to stop the Bad People', but like - linguistics. Folk tales. That counts for a lot!!

But. It's not for nothing that GRR Martin asked about Aragon's tax policy. LotR is very much based in a mythic world - it's not all that interested in how the kingdoms actually function. Which is fine!!! Most fantasy novels aren't!!! But it's a part of worldbuilding that I tend to be especially interested in - or more specifically, what goes on when there aren't any evil overlords or armies to muster? LotR has some of that!! But it's not the focus.

And... Characters??? Like I said - LotR is a mythic world. It doesn't explore how or why Aragorn and Arwen fell in love - them being on love is simply part of their characters. Personality is single-note and psychology is minimal, because the story isn't about the complex interlockings of these characters. It's about selfishness and greed and good and evil.

But, like. I am an exclusive (oneshot) (mostly shippy) fanfiction writer. Obviously characters are my greatest interest.

If I had to say one thing I've discovered about my reading preferences, it's that my primary need is emotion. I need stories that can put me in a character's metaphorical shoes, or at the least take me on a specific, defined emotional journey. That's why LotR fell so flat for me, I think: everything from the writing style to the overall structure of the story just felt so dry, like even the author was just dully typing out What Happens Next in some interminable history textbook nobody but him was ever supposed to read.

It felt... To be sacrilegious, here? To really say something I cannot take back? It felt a bit like AI writing. No particular message (Tolkien has repeatedly denied there being any real-world applicability to the story), and no sense of thought process as to how the reader would experience the story. Everything's just... Spat out at you. This happens. Now we're doing a Canterbury Tales style folk song. Now we're somewhere that was never brought up in the first 100 pages and will never matter again but by gosh we'll spend a whole chapter here because That's What's There in the world and the only thing that actually matters is cohesion to these pre-written facts!!!

I'm exaggerating... A little. I really did have this experience of reading it, I think; it was a long time ago now. But the commenter from above was right about people valuing different things; likely, my particular preferences are uncommon and thus irrelevant. But even if they are... I really don't think my critiques of the writing in LotR are entirely 100% subjective? I think there is some vein of truth to them, that the books could have been Better if he had written them in some ways differently?

Idk. This is a pointless rant; it's not like the guy in the commentary was being wilfully ignorant or something. The structure worked all right on him and on everyone else he knows, so what else can you say except 'it works'? Besides, I liked Harry Potter, so. Obviously my sense of taste is abominable and I have no right to speak on fiction - especially fantasy - ever. So that's that.

[letthemyeetcake]

I'm real late to the game with reading fanfiction. Like, real late. But that comes with some rather interesting side effects. The biggest thing is that there are so many turns of phrase that are endemic to fanfics that simply aren't in books. Or they are at least used far more infrequently. And, look, I ain't gonna gatekeep. But I will say that I currently find some of them distracting. I'll prolly get used to them, though, and some are more distracting than others. Some observations are as follows.

Humming while talking

Example: "This is an example," he hummed.

How... how do you hum while you talk? Do you hum before or after you talk? Unless you want to sound like a bee, I suppose. Or a living kazoo. Let that image live rent free in your head. You're welcome! I'm far more used to it being written out. Like "Hmm. This is an example." Or if it's standalone from works, just saying he/she/they hummed.

Eyes blown wide

Example: Their eyes blew wide in shock.

Ooookay so this one really distracts me. What does this mean? Did someone blow their eyes open with hurricane-force wind? Shove dynamite into their eye sockets? It's such a violent image in my head even for shock a character might experience. And it's eeeeverywheeere in fanfic. Why not use "their eyes flew open" or "Their eyes widened?" Where did this come from? I want some linguistics research to track this down.

Huffing

Example: She huffed in irritation.

This one wouldn't really be distracting since I often see it in books, if it weren't for the fact that it is used everywhere. So it kinda falls into this literary uncanny valley for me. Like, yeah, I see it often, but not to the point where it has become invisible turn of phrase. So the fact that it is used just, like, everywhere, in fanfic really stands out to me.

Carding through hair

Example: His hands carded through his hair.

This is another one that I see in literature but not nearly as often as I see it in fanfic. In books I am much more likely to see something like "He ran his fingers through his hair." And like, carding doesn't feel like bad turn of phrase to me by any means. Its just the frequency of its usage that stands out.

Chirping

Example: "Oh no!" They chirped.

Is your character a bird? No? Are they a small child with a light, high-pitched voice? If not, then why would anything that anyone says sound like a high pitched bird chirping? Gotta admit, this one is a pet (heh) peeve of mine. Again, I don't want to gatekeep. But personally it just grates and makes me reread a sentence a couple of times. Especially when it's ascribed to a character that has no business making such a noise.

The Other

Example: She looked over to the other and smiled.

The other what? THE OTHER WHAT??? Ahem. Sorry. It's just... that needs a noun after it. Or... something. Otherwise it just leaves me hanging. It feels really vague and impersonal. Unless it's meant to be a different turn of phrase, like "Looking back and forth between one another." which is fairly invisible to me because it's just kinda common to literature. But just "Other?" I almost never see it used this way in books, so it makes my head stumble a bit expecting some kind of followup. I suppose you could say that I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. ;D

Anyway, I'm sure there's other phrases that I'm simply not thinking about right now. And again, do what ya want. Far be it for me to dictate how English, the sweet Ship of Theseus of a language that it is, should be. And all languages move and change. All I ask is that when you write, be intentional in what you put to page. Doesn't have to be the first draft- that's a nice path to Anxietytown. But as you edit and massage things.

[darkspace7]

Overture

"A plucked note, a half familiar tune, it's okay if you don't remember the words- you will soon."

(Or in which Ichigo has a bad day, meets a guy with personal space issues and who looks way too much like his zanpakuto to be comfortable, and finds out reincarnation is also apparently a thing?) Words: 10572 Rated: Fiction T A/N: This is actually very old wip that I found in one of my old journals and simply decided one day to finish on a whim. I've always been rather fond of reincarnation stories and figured it would work out rather well here. Also honestly I just wanted to have an excuse for Ichigo being a salty little shit to someone. Anyway, I do not hold the rights for either DGM or Bleach because -let's be honest here- would I really be writing fanfiction if I did?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Overture"-noun: an orchestral piece that serves as the precursor to a larger musical composition; the start of something much bigger. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Sixteen…"

With a flash of steel viscera flew away, shattering into nothingness before it even had a chance to hit the ground.

"Seventeen…"

The thick blade of the khyber knife slid through flesh and bone with little effort, carving a path of destruction in its wake.

"Eighteen!"

The teen hefted the massive blade onto his shoulder and cast a glance back at one of the (un)fortunate few hollows that had managed to escape from the carnage. ' Though not for long… ' "Oi Ishida!" He called out suddenly, "That's eighteen now, how many have you managed so far?"

A bolt of blue soared past him, just narrowly missing by a small margin as it went on to pierce the mask of one of the more opportunistic hollows who thought they might be able to get a cheap shot or two in while he was distracted. "Perhaps you should focus on the task at hand instead of asking inane questions like who can kill the most hollows in one go Kurosaki." The bespectacled Quincy replied in a droll tone as he leapt back, ducking quickly in an effort to avoid the clawed swipe a low-level adjuchas before launching off a volley of arrows in retaliation. "And it's twenty-three if you must know."

"Damn." Ichigo turned away with a grumble but still felt the need to retort,"Yeah, well, you know we wouldn't even be out here in the first place with if a certain somebody hadn't shoved me back into that crate of hollow bait!"

"I already told you that was an accident! My arms were so full of stuff that I couldn't even see over them! How on earth was I supposed to know you were right behind the door? I may have talents that span across many fields, but you will be hard pressed to find being psychic among them." "Uh-huh, yeah, sure." Ichigo nodded entirely unconvinced, "Tell that to the hand you messed up!" He flicked said appendage toward the other teen. An action of which merely caused the other to roll his eyes. "It was just a small cut Kurosaki, stop being so melodramatic." "Melodramatic?!" The teen cried, "You're not the one who ended up taking an entire shelf down with him! I got dirt and god-knows-what in this damn thing. Do you know how much bacteria is in that shit? I'm lucky if it doesn't get infected!" A shout quickly cut both of them off and not a moment later it was followed with a large hollow being sent sailing past the taller teen. He blinked and turned to the source. "Hey how you holding up Chad?

"Fine." Yasutora Sado -or as he was known to his friends- Chad replied. "I managed to get thirty so far." His armored fist crashed through the skull of a still-twitching creature. "Though I think that was the last one."

The deafening sound of a garganta tearing through the night sky drew their attention upwards. Twin sets of bleached bone hands accompanied by the massive visages of their owners peered out of the void-like spacial tear. They stared up at the newly-arrived gillians for a second before Chad spoke up once more. "I might've been wrong." Uryu pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh.

"You know…" Ichigo eyed the gillians with a discerning look, "This feels suspiciously familiar for some reason." He turned to face his Quincy companion speculatively, "Didn't we have to do something similar to this the last time you decided to be an idiot?"

"Ugh, don't remind me." He grumbled, shooting the teen a gimlet stare. "Don't tell me you're thinking of rushing up and trying to knock them down from the bottom-up again are you?"

'Er well maybe not from the bottom-up anyway.' The substitute shinigami thought with a flush. "That was one time! And from what I remember, its not like your plan was any better!"

"Excuse me?" Came the indignant response. Ichigo's look was as dry as his words, "It involved tying my sword to your head and trying to shoot the damn thing down Ishida. I think that counts."

"Ichigo."

"What?" The teen turned to his tall friend who in turn made a silent gesture towards the general vicinity of the massive hollows, the other's gaze locked on something in the distance. Curious, he traced the path only to spot the telltale glow of a cero beginning to form on the leftmost gillian's lips. "Oh…shit." With that he moved.

Shifting into a shunpo, he flickered up and over to meet the threat. Zangetsu out and at the ready, he sent forth a nameless arc of energy directly into the large beast's face. The light of the cero dissipated as the gillian was knocked back from the sheer force of the attack. Incensed, the being let out an ear-drum shattering screech.

However, not giving it a chance to recover, Ichigo launched himself forward and swung. A fearsome cry ripped loose as the blade cleaved though the hollow's mask and eventually the being itself. "That's nineteen." He slid back, allowing the dissipating reishi of the newly purified beast to filter around him as he made to survey his newest target. "Now let's see if we can make it twenty."

A faint shimmering glow began to encapsulate the zanpakuto as wisps of power rose up to meet their king's demand. Slipping one foot back, he settled into a firm stance, braced the charged blade with a strong grip, and then uttered the two damning words, "Getsuga Tensh-?!"

It was then, at that very moment, he felt his power surge. Taken off guard by the unexpected ferocity he jerked and involuntarily released the charged attack. However he only had a split second to process this before it all went to hell. It was… odd, he thought with a detached air. There was the vague sense of his half-called attack coming forth to strike the unfortunate hollow with enough force that if the blast itself hadn't destroyed it then the resounding shockwave would have managed that thrice over. A searing throb pulsed through his arm as ringing echoed with an omnipresent chime in his ears. He thought if he strained hard enough that he could maybe make out the disant voices of his friends and the rush of wind flowing past him as he flew. And then suddenly the world shifted and he was falling and everything was beginning to lose focus and then- Darkness.

-------------------------------[ - XIV - ]------------------------------------ … … …? **…? It.. me, ****. Ca. ..u …r m. ..t? ***** y.u …d .. get up! ***..?!

"Damn it Ichigo wake up!" -------------------------------[ - XV - ]---------------------------------- Warm brown eyes flickered a bit as the lids hiding them cracked open- only to clamp shut seconds later with a pained hiss. He opted to remain like that as he took stock of his situation. He was obviously still alive if the general ache that seemed to run through every part of his body were any indication (and shit if it didn't hurt) and from what he could tell, he was sprawled out on on something hard and cold - the ground- presumably. His hand twitched and brushed up against something at his side. Curiosity taking precedence for the moment, he hazarded a glance around until his slit-eyed gaze happened upon the thing. It was his sword, somehow he had managed to keep his grip on the blade despite being tossed about like a ragdoll. Good to know.

"Ichigo!"

His head tilted towards the shout and the tension bled from his frame when he caught sight of who it was. "Hey…you okay?" The teen managed to grit out. 'Because I sure as hell am not.'

"Kurosaki." There was a flicker of relief behind metal-rimmed frames that was quickly asked by annoyance. "I think that question would better be directed at yourself." Reaffixing the sliding pair of lenses he continued on, "Seeing as I'm not the one in the crater right now."

"Ishida!" It was at that moment that Chad had finally managed to make it to the scene. As his attention flickered from the Quincy to a vaguely irritated-looking Ichigo then to the surrounding destruction he came to a conclusion of some sort and finally let his gaze come to rest on the fallen substitute shinigami. He took a step forward and asked, "What happened?"

With some difficulty Ichigo managed to push himself into a semiseated position. He looked up at the two perched upon the lip of the impact site with a pensive scowl. "I'm… not entirely sure." He admitted honestly, a hand raked through disheveled locks as he thought.

"It looked like you exploded."

"Yeah? That's a bit what it felt like too." The whole peculiarity pf the incident had left him with a bitter taste in his mouth (although that might've just been blood.) "It was weird. I was just doing as I normally do when out of nowhere my power just sort of… skyrocketed. Next thing I know that hollow is on death's door and my ass is being sent flying halfway across the city."

They were all silent for a pause, each lost to their own thoughts until Ishida decided to break it. "We should head on back, perhaps that shopkeeper can shed some light on things."

The black-clad teen snorted, "If you somehow think you can get him to drop that cryptic bullshit for two seconds then by all means go for it." He slowly began to pull himself up, grunting quietly from the effort.

"Do you need some help?" Chad -ever the reliable friend- offered.

"No, no. I got it." He waved him off and slowly managed to heave himself upright with Zangetsu acting as a sort of makeshift crutch. He successfully made it a step-and-a-half forward before his legs decided to give out on him and he crumpled. "Um maybe I don't have it…"

Ishida's brow hiked up slightly, "Oh really? I honestly couldn't tell." He drawled, earning a glower from the other teen. The bespectacled youth chuckled slightly as he bent down and carefully perched himself on the rim of the crater, his hand extended out towards his sometime friend/rival. Grumbling under his breath, the boy clasped onto the proffered limb with a firm embrace. And then it happened…

One moment everything was fine and the next second, right as Ichigo's made contact, the other's sleeve seemed to just disintegrate. A startled yelp escaped the Quincy as he jerked the limb from the other's grasp, the sudden loss of support sending the teen back down flat on his ass. He stared in a sort of horrified bewilderment as the other clutched at the pained limb and from where he was sitting Ichigo thought he could spot a welt of red stand stark out against pale skin. Appearing almost as if it had been seared there. His gaze flickered down to his bandaged hand, watching as the appendage trembled slightly when he made a fist.

What in the actual fuck?

Pain momentarily shunted to the back of his mind, he scrambled up the pile of rubble, taking care to maneuver around the duo as he hefted himself up and over the ledge. Wordlessly he met their troubled flickers with an uneasy gleam of his own. The same unspoken question passed between them: just what the hell was going on? Thankfully they were spared the issue of dwelling on it for too long when a distinctly familiar presence decided to make itself known. "Oh my, you boys sure know how to make a mess." The clack-clack of wooden sandals slapping against concrete came to as stop as their owner cast an impassive eye at the trio, namely a certain swordsman. "Well I suppose it's a good thing that my ability to conveniently appear at just the right moment is as impeccable as always. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Urahara-san, as much as we would love to stand around and discuss your frankly stalker-like tendencies don't you think there are slightly more pressing matters to attend to?"

The man's attention flickered briefly to the injured Quincy before shifting back to Ichigo. "Yes, I suppose so. Exposition time it is then." He affected an almost put upon sigh before sobering so fast it could've given a person whiplash. Leaning forward with his cane as a support he began, "I'm certain you can recall the actions of young Kurosaki-san of a few months prior. How in a desperate last ditch effort he employed the use of his final single most powerful technique in order to stop Aizen and ultimately save out collective asses, in spite of the supposed cost brought about by doing such a thing."

"Except that didn't happen." Ichigo said slowly, "The cost that is."

"Precisely. Which is in where lies the problem." The man's steel eyes glinted slightly, "With the use of that technique you should have immediately undergone the process of losing your spiritual pressure -and with it your powers- the moment you released the attack. But you didn't. Somehow the process was… circumvented -for lack of a better term- allowing for you to pursuit a third option and keep both your abilities and your spiritual energies, albeit in a slightly diminished state. Naturally, phenomena such as this bore further examination and I have to say," He pushed his hat back allowing for a better view, "The results were rather interesting and, sadly to say, inconclusive."

"These results wouldn't happen to involve things like, say, random power spikes and straight up disintegrating shit would they?" The brown-eyed teen asked lowly.

The blond nodded, "From what I have been able to gather I'd say its a bit something like this: imagine if you will, a system of pipes and valves. Normally you'd twist on the tap and water would flow through them with no trouble right? Now picture that those valves, for whatever reason, up and decided that they simply don't want to work properly anymore. What happens when suddenly there's all this extra water and nowhere for it to go? It begins to back up and flood the system, naturally."

He almost didn't want to ask but he needed to know, "And… what happens when the system is completely flooded?"

"Over time the pressure produced would escalate to a level far beyond that which is in any way safe and eventually the backlash would destroy the system entirely-" The blond's gaze traveled significantly to Ishida who continued to clutch at his wounded arm, "- along with everything else within a fourteen kilometer radius." The teen felt his blood become ice. "Oh." A bead of sweat dripped from his brow, "That's…not good." Was all that he managed to get out.

It was a bit before anyone could figure out just how exactly they were supposed to respond to that little proclamation when Ishida -ever the pragmatist- asked, "Is there any way to fix it and make it so that doesn't happen?"

For a brief second he dared hope but when the man simply shook his head his heart sunk, "While I do have some theories that could potentially bear merit, I'm rather reluctant to implement them, at least not until I can manage to extrapolate the underlying cause of all this."

As the incredulous disbelief, which had been progressively mounting throughout the duration of the the conversation, finally deigned itself to drag the teen into its murky depths a thought occurred to him and much like a lifeline he clutched onto it. "What about my body?" Could he even return to it in this state?

The man hummed thoughtfully, "You probably could try to go back to it, but unless you want first-hand knowledge on what its like to inhabit a body that's in the process of slowly being torn apart from the inside by its own spiritual pressure, then I'd advise against it."

'Well that answers that.' The teen grimaced, it was not a pretty picture and in all honesty he kind of felt like he was going to be sick. Having your own abilities suddenly decide you would look better slammed into the concrete and then being told that you were essentially a ticking time bomb that could potentially level half the damn city simply by existing would do that to a person he supposed. "Ichigo." He twitched. Raising up to meet the gentle giant's silent concern, they locked eyes for a moment before he looked away, unable to answer the question held within. Was he okay? Good question.

"I-" He swallowed thickly, noticing how his hands tightened around Zangetsu's grip. Only then he realized he had neglected to sheath the blade and immediately set about rectifying this. He hoped the others were unable to see the way his hands shook as he did.

(They probably could.)

He… He needed some space. To be alone so he could just think and attempt to process whatever the fuck was happening right now with his body, with him. And this is pretty much what he told the others. (And if he was alone then at least he wouldn't take anyone with him.)

Urahara met this with a nod of understanding, hands drifting to his pockets. "I have something for you," He dug through them, pulling out a stick of gum and a rubber duck to which he quickly dismissed and tossed away. "It's only a prototype at the moment-" An innocuous looking green stone of indeterminate construction (it almost seemed to contain an unearthly glow) quickly joined the pile, "-but-" followed by a traffic cone and a stop sign (How did that even fit…?), "-if it works…" then a ball of multicoloured rubber bands and a roll of bandages (which were spared a moment's glance then lobbed over to a thankful Chad), "-it should be able to open up a portal to Hueco Mundo for you to go through," And, finally, out slipped the palm-sized device. "You know, if you, well…"

He trailed off, finger hovering above the sole button on the device for a second before he pressed down. "The portal will only be able to stay open for about a minute on this end but that should be long enough for you to make it through if you hurry."

Ichigo nodded and shifted so now that his friends were the ones in sight instead. He opened his mouth to say something but got cut off before the words had ever reached his tongue. "Go." The tallest of the trio said, "We'll take care of things here." He made certain that they could see the thanks in his eyes before he turned away. Taking a fortifying breath the substitute shinigami stared straight ahead. Only a minute huh? He could handle that.

"Ah well I suppose I should be getting back to the shop. Come along now Sado-kun, Ishida-san."

A beat, then two, and then suddenly he was standing before the static-filled void between worlds.

"Urahara-san aren't you forgetting something?"

He took a step. "Huh? Oh right! Wouldn't want to litter would we? Now let's see, there's this and oh wow! Forgot I had that and… huh? Could've sworn there were two…"

The last vestiges of conversation drifted from awareness with a crack as the mouth of the portal came down behind him and he let out the breath he hadn't known he had been holding. Mechanically, he started forward, legs automatically propelling him towards that land of eternal night. Maybe on the way there he could think of some way that he might just be able to pull his sorry ass out of the proverbial fire this time, and maybe, just maybe there would be no one around to hear his frustrated scream.

------------------------------------[ - XIV - ]--------------------------------

The rhythmic patter of footfalls and unsteady breaths trailed along as he ran. The solitary sounds in stark juxtaposition with the oppressive nothingness was what had finally allowed for the shock to break and everything else settle in. How long had it been now? It was as if he had been on a treadmill, running endlessly yet never getting anywhere. But surely that couldn't be so, he must've made some progress right?

… Right?

He wondered if they managed to make it back to the shop yet. (He tried not to remember deep red in the shape of a hand -his hand- to not picture white-and-silver-and-blue wracked in pain -that he had caused- or recall warm brown, kind yet tinted with a solemn silence and it was his own fault goddamn it-) He hoped they had. In his distraction the walkway he stood upon began to slip back into the ether and caused the teen to pitch forward a bit until he managed to right himself and continue on. It was just a bit before thoughts once more began to drift.

His family…

A niggling feeling of guilt wormed its way up his chest and settled heavily in his throat. He had promised to watch his sisters since their father was out of town for the weekend but now how was he supposed to do that if he couldn't even get near them (or anyone else for that matter?) What if they weren't able to fix things and he'd never be able to see any of them again? Something cold slithered down and joined its fellow in the depths of his heart. He wondered if anyone had went ahead and even bothered to tell them anything. 'Oh god they haven't had they?'

(With a dawning horror he imagined the two girls waiting for him to come home as they always did only to come to learn that their older brother just simply wouldn't be coming back this time and probably never would again. Yuzu would be devastated which would set Karin off because nobody gets away with upsetting her twin like that and then she would try to hunt him down so she could kick his ass and he'd completely deserve it too because what kind of brother does that to his sisters? But it'd all be in vain because he'd be dead and-) He tripped and caught himself once again.

"…" This was taking a very long time. Surely he should've made it somewhere by now shouldn't he? Did he manage to get himself lost on top of everything else? Had Urahara's sketchy invention been a dud? He did say it was a prototype. (Or maybe it was never meant to take him anywhere in the first place and the bastard had left him to die like-)

He shook his head. Well wouldn't that be just perfect, being forced to spend the rest of eternity trapped in the void until either his power tipped past critical and took him with it or he went irrevocably insane from the the fact that he just couldn't seem to find the damned exit- oh.

As if summoned, a bright light slipped onto his visual radar and seemed to grow nearer with every passing second. He quickly stomped on the breaks and screeched to a stop just before it, having came this close to missing the mark completely. Taking a step back, the teen carefully peered out into the distance at the sea of sand below. Very distant. Man he was high up. "Hn a fall like that would've- oof!"

Something slammed into his back, knocking him off-kilter and sending him flailing through the open portal. Suddenly he was falling and those 'distant sands' didn't look quite so distant anymore.

Ichigo screamed. -------------------------------------[ - XV - ]------------------------------- … A****. … Wh. .re … ..ing? …? Yo. ..n't .. ..mfor…le ..ke .h.. .. .et up. (…Nngh.) Co.. .. .ow ..u .ren't ..ving up on m. .r. y..? (W-Who?) Do… yo. re…ber? (I don't…?) Sta.. .n .our ow. ..o .eet Al***, kee. m…ng for..rd wit..ut hesi..ti.n. Eve. .f .ts jus. one st.. at a t..e, walk. .ow enoug. lyi.. aro..d. Get up. (What?) Get up All- --------------------------------[ - XIV - ]------------------------------------ He inhaled sharply and was instantly rewarded with a mouth full of sand. Sputtering, he noted how this was starting to become a pattern. One that seriously needed to stop. He shifted around to lay sprawled out on his back, eyes clamped shut as his breathing evened out. Ichigo took a moment to just stay like that. God, everything hurt. With head turned a bit to the side he finally decided to open his eyes…only to find a face a breath away from his own. He swore.

"Well that's one way to wake up." The figure remarked dryly. Ichigo's mouth opened slightly before he paused then slowly let it fall shut. Brown eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he took in the figure that stood before him only to widen again when he drew back in confusion. '…Tensa?' He blinked. No, that… didn't make any sense. For a number of reasons, actually.

The first of which being the fact that -if his surroundings were any indication- he was not currently within his inner world at the moment.

(That is to say, if the place hadn't up and decided one day that it wanted to look exactly like the Hueco Mundo for no other reason than to simply make him confused.) Sure, there was the possibility that the spirit had decided to manifest into the physical realm for whatever reason but that just gave rise to even more questions. Like why was he even in that form to begin with? The last time he checked he hadn't entered bankai or anything like that so there was really no reason for him to be that way. Unless… whatever was going on was affecting his zanpakuto too? Hn actually… now that he looked closer there was a slight difference or two between the being before him and the spirit of memory. (But still the resemblance was uncanny.)

… And the guy was staring at him. Had he zoned out?

"You okay? You didn't hit your head there did you?" An eyebrow hiked up slightly but the expression was otherwise impassive. Yep, he had. But that was besides the point. The awkward silence stretched between them for a bit longer until the other finally asked, "You just going to keep sitting there?"

"Um…" He replied smartly.

Not-Tensa rolled his eyes and huffed. Hand extended, he proffered it for the other to grasp. When he made no move to do so he leaned forward"

"Ah don't-" -and firmly clasped it in his own. …What?

He hefted the balking teen up with ease, lips curved into a bland smirk as if he hadn't done something that which by all rights should've been impossible. Ichigo was certain he was gaping at the moment but seriously what the actual hell man? The way the other's eyebrow raised, as if to say 'what of it?' certainly wasn't helping matters any. Just who was this guy?!

Apparently either completely oblivious or someone who simply did not give a fuck to any kind of social convention if the way he now dragged him along was anything to go by. "H-Hold on a second! What the hell?! Let go!" Ichigo finally had the good sense to start struggling against the other's grasp but alas was unable to break free. Damn, the guy's grip was like iron. "Where are you dragging me?" That was definitely not a note of panic in his voice, nosiree. But the other merely ignored him as he hummed under his breath. The fingers of his free hand tapping rhythmically against his pants leg, as if they were sketching out a melody that only he were privy to. (He wondered briefly what that strange melody would sound like if it were played across the set of a fine ivory keyboard before he shook his head. Now wasn't the time for such things.) Abruptly the humming cut off. Then-

"What the hell is that?!" A doorway of ethereal white had flickered into view amongst the desert sands. The man's grip tightened as if sensing his suddenly renewed desire to abscond the fuck out of there and slowly began to drag him toward the light. It was at this point the teen began to struggle in earnest. Because okay, yeah, no. There was no way in hell he was going to let himself be placidly dragged along into whatever-the-fuck that was, weird zanpakuto doppelganger notwithstanding!

"Hey! I'm not-" A sharp tug had him nearly biting his tongue as he stumbled forward. Just barely able to catch himself in time and avoid a nasty spill he shot the man's back a dirty glare that sadly served to do little to help his predicament. He wasn't quite sure how but he thought he could feel the faint amusement bleeding from the man's frame. Asshole. And it was with that the struggling youth disappeared into the doorway of light. -------------------------------[ -XV- ]--------------------------------------- White.

That's all that he could see.

A empty town with white cobbled roads, white stone doors, white window frames, white wooden floors. Down a white hallway that lead to a white room with a white piano across from a white couch next to where he now stood. No matter where he turned there it was, that damned colour -or rather- lack of it. It sent a shiver up his spine. (A flicker of memory crossed his mind of a white moon in a dark sky across endless white sands; of long -short- red -black- hair and brown -black- eyes, crying, crying; of black cloth and white stone and white hands stained red red red- "Ichigo!" "*****!") He blinked. How had he even wound up in this situation again? Oh right, that asshole. He strained against the vice-like grip with a huff. Suddenly the death hold was dropped as his kidnapper made to brush past him. The man padded across to where the instrument lay and promptly claimed its bench as his own. Upon having been seated he turned and gave a gesture for him to do the same. He did, keeping his eyes trained firmly on the other as he slowly shifted Zangetsu from his holster to rest conspicuously upon his lap. The action and its clear intent seemed to evoke a small smile from the other.

"Way you were thrashing I would've expected to be held at knifepoint sooner rather than later."

An utterly flat stare. "It's kind of hard to hold someone at knifepoint when the one with the knife is the one being dragged along through god-knows-where by a weirdo with no concept of personal space boundaries. But something tells me you already knew that." He drawled.

A conceding nod. "But not impossible if one was truly inclined." Not- Tensa added, looking over at the blade with an almost appreciative eye. "Not that it would have done much with your current state being what it is at the moment." Bright eyes gave the teen's hastily bandaged hand a significant look. Ichigo -refusing to rise to the bait snorted. He shifted forward, letting the damaged limb splay against the flat of the blade and met the other's gaze.

"And just who are you to care about a thing like that?" The man smirked.

"Well, truthfully I've held many a title over the years, some being more…creative than others. But I suppose something to best suit the current situation would be…hm yes. You can call me, ****!"

… What?

A bead of sweat dribbled down the young teen's spine as the heavy feeling of something utterly foreign and cold settled down upon him. The man had clearly said something so why couldn't he…? Quickly schooling his features, the teen then asked in as nonchalant of a way as he could manage: "Could you repeat that? I didn't quite catch it the first time."

The other's brow furrowed, a faint glimmer of something flickered through his eyes before it was gone. Ichigo watched as he did as he was asked, observing how the man's lips went slowly through the motions again to say his name and…nothing.

Complete and utter silence.

Even though he should've been able to, even though he could almost taste the sting of syllables on his tongue, he just couldn't make out a sound. The other's expression was inscrutable, a carefully bland mask as he observed but the teen paid it little mind because that thing right there? That's what did it for him. More than the other's inexplicable resistance to whatever weirdness that was going on with him, more than the strange portals to stranger bleached ghost towns and their unnerving (familiar) emptiness, it was that: the silence where it should not have been. That was what scared him.

"Well, this is a problem." The man sighed, "Although not much of a surprising one." And then in an undertone, "You always did like to make things unnecessarily difficult."

That last little bit drew the teen up short, successfully dragging him out of the beginnings of a downward spiral that he nearly found himself in. At least for the moment anyway. "You make it sound like we're already well acquainted." 'And I know I've never seen you before in my life.' He thought to himself. 'So there's no way.' Right?

"In a way, yes." Before Ichigo could ask what the hell that meant the man suddenly sat back and slapped his hands together, startling the boy. "I have an idea! Why don't we play a round of twenty questions?"

Okay, what?

The confusion must've been apparent because he went on to explain, "Understandable that you would have questions about any number of things. Things that I may or may not hold the answers to, so what better way to solve this little dilemma than with a bit of back and forth hm?"

"Okay first off: I'm…pretty sure that's not how 'twenty questions' works-"

"Semantics."

"-and second, something tells me that you'd be getting a lot more out of this deal than I would." And I'm not quite sure how I feel about that to be honest.

It was brief but he caught the faint flicker of something in the man's eyes before it was gone with an apathetic shrug, "Fair enough. But honestly, what have you really got to lose at this point? I mean with your condition…" The other trailed off with a significant look and that made his hackles rise.

'Oh I can think of a few things.' He thought, having to bite back the retort. His hand twitched faintly at his side. While it was true that he could perhaps get some of his many questions answered such as: 'How was it that you were able to grab me without a thought while my friends couldn't so much as touch me without getting hurt?' or 'What exactly are you because I know for a damn fact that there's no way you could be a normal human being or even a spirit for that matter with that creepy vibe you're giving off right now,' and his personal favourite: 'Why the hell can't I hear your name?' but was it worth it?

Some nagging feeling in the back of his mind whispered no; that giving this zanpakuto lookalike could potentially do more harm than good. This was further exasperated by the sensation that he felt emanating off of the man, something not too dissimilar from the one that he received from that damned shopkeeper. And if there was one thing that he had learned for certain it was to always be on your guard whenever that mad scientist was involved. But, that being said…

"Alright." He shifted forward with an acquiescing tick of the head, "Let's see what you got."

The man visibly brightened, "Knew you'd come around eventually. So why don't I start us off with something nice and easy like… oh, how about your name?"

('My name? Oh, why it's-')

…? The teen shifted slightly, settling back into the stiff fabric of the cushions. An orange brow hiked up just a bit. "Shouldn't you know already?"

"Of course, but it'd be rather rude not to allow you the chance to introduce yourself don't you think? After all it is usually the first introduction upon which one usually draws their opinion of another is it not?"

"I guess?"

"…" A blank smile. Slender digits traveled along the flat of the knife, an arrhythmic beat tapped along in their wake. "…" "… Well?" "Well what?" "Aren't you?" "Aren't I what ?" "Going to introduce yourself?" The other stated plainly, as if pointing out the obvious.

'Seeing as there isn't much of a damn point why would I?' He thought with a sort of blank incredulity because surely the man had to have been fucking with him, but no, from the expectant gaze trained upon him he realized that the guy was dead serious. Weird. He vented out a huff and proceeded to -in the single most sarcastic and utterly done voice that he could muster- say, "Hello I'm-"

('-A***n ***k*r-') "-Kurosaki Ichigo and I'm-" ('-an Exorcist-') "-a Substitute Shinigami. I think its been a real pleasure to have been able to hang out in this creepy colourless ghost town with only my zanpakuto's weird doppelganger for company, how about you?" "…Somehow I doubt all that." Said doppelganger deadpanned. "And what do you mean weird?" He added as an afterthought. Blatantly ignoring this the teen plowed on, "My turn, so where are we anyway?"

The man ceased his muttering and turned to look at the boy, "Just for the sake of clarification: do you mean in general or-" a gloved hand waved vaguely at the space around them, "-the room we're currently in, or perhaps even-"

"Just answer the damn question!" Ichigo barked, his patience finally having snapped.

The man seemed to blink and give him another one of those curious stares before finally something shifted and his eyes lost that playful glow. It was a subtle change but a definitive one, having the teen subconsciously sitting up a touch with a slight frown as the sobered air settled upon them. A brief irrational thought had him wonder if, just perhaps, he might have said the wrong thing but he pressed on. After all, he deserved at least that didn't he? Besides, he had seen all kinds of weirdness so whatever the man threw at him couldn't be that bad compared to some of the other things he'd witnessed. Probably.

The other leaned forward, carefully pressing the fingertips of his gloved hands together, "Tell me boy, are you familiar with the story of Noah?" "'Noah?'" He questioned, tasting the syllables as they rolled across his tongue. "Vaguely." Was the orange-headed teen's answer, tone contemplative as he flicked through old conversations in his mind's eye. "It's a story from the bible, isn't it?" Upon the other's look he elaborated, "My friend, Chad, his grandfather was born in Mexico and raised to be Catholic so when Chad was younger the two of them spent a lot of time together at the local church where they would pray and sometimes read from the scripture. Apparently that story used to be one of his favourites. I remember him telling me about it."

Chocolate eyes lifted to meet tarnished gold and he had to blink, had they always been that color? There was something haunting about those eyes that held him. A soul-searing pair with an intense otherworldly quality, not quite unlike another pair that he knew of, albeit, without the inverted scelera and the wild madness he knew that lie underneath. Hopefully anyway.

Shaking off the mental image he continued, "It was about this guy, Noah, right? God was apparently pissed at the world because humans -unsurprisingly- turned out to be a bunch of jerks all except for this one dude. So god then tells the dude to build this giant ship thing and to load up his family and a zoo on it because basically god told him he was gonna go to town on everyone else and didn't want them caught in the crossfire. And so everyone but them died and the world reset or something like that." His brow furrowed a bit as he thought back to remember just what had been said, "Sorry, it's kind of been a while since I heard it." Plus there had been a bit of paraphrasing too but he had gotten the gist of it more or less. And what if I were to say that story, or at the very least an unbastardized version of it, was but all too real?"

He was silent for a moment, "I'd say: all stories have to start somewhere. More often than not it's the craziest ones that have a basis in fact." A pause, "And would it be wrong to assume you had something to do with it?" The following silence was confirmation enough.

"Would you be willing to share then?" As if sensing the stirring of uneasiness he quickly added, "If not everything, then what you can?" He knew first hand what it was like to have things that you wanted to keep to yourself, painful insidious things forcefully locked away so that you never had to see-think-hear of them ever again in the light of day. He understood. But conversely, he also knew the danger of silence.

"In time, perhaps. The past is… complicated. For more reasons than you know." He murmured quietly, appearing for a moment as if weighted down with some great unfathomable burden. And then it was gone, replaced with what was beginning to become a familiar mask. "Back to your previous question, this place-" a gesture to the space around them, "-was once our home, among other things. 'The Ark' we deemed it, home to the clan of Noah. And this very room in which we now sit?" A faint smile flickered into being as he turned back to face the piano, hand running gently over the ivory keys. Shadowed eyes stared into the mid-distance, attention snagged by something that only he could see. "Its center-" Golden irises side-eyed him from where he sat, "-or Heart, if you will."

Ichigo felt his bandaged hand twitch faintly as his own heart decided to stop and skip a beat. This gave him a moment's pause as there was no rhyme nor reason for the action. "Yeah?" He said with a mental shake of the head and attempted to distract himself from the peculiar behaviour, "And what did you do in here?"

"A bit of this and that. Play piano." The man shrugged, "Other stuff."

"This 'other stuff' wouldn't just so happen to deal with anything that might bring about the apocalypse now would it?" He had honestly been half-kidding but when the other didn't respond he felt a minor spike of alarm. Seriously? The teen cleared his -suddenly dry- throat and, as if without any input from himself, the following escaped his lisp, "Just what is the Ark?"

The Noah froze, hand poised above the keys before slowly it retracted and fell limply back to his lap. "It's… The best way to describe it would be 'a world between worlds'; a sort of in-between place with many 'doors' that could lead to anywhere and anything that your mind could think of, and even some it can't." His lips curved into a little half-smirk, "I suppose you could compare it a bit to something like the Dangai with a couple of senkaimon thrown in but better looking and with marginally less things that would try to kill you at the moment."

'Like a doorway…' Chocolate eyes widened, "That white gate thing in the desert." "Mhm." He nodded. "Then…that thing you were humming…the way your fingers kept twitching…" A keen gaze trailed along to the only other thing with them in the everpresent white. 'As if you were playing a song…' "The Key."

Ichigo looked at him, "Key?" "An audi-visual system directory entered into a specific frequency only accessible via the correct pattern being paired with a certain physical device i.e.: a musical instrument for example." "So play the piano open the door." He summarized.

"Basically." The Noah shot him a vaguely amused look, "What? You didn't think this thing here was just for show did you?" "Ah, no." He coloured faintly. Not gonna lie though, he had been kind of wondering what its deal was though. "So, like, can anyone control it if they had the passcode or is there something extra that makes it user-specific or something?"

He quirked a brow, "Why, curious?"

"No." Yes. "I was just wondering if you had to be a pianist or if anything else would do." A small shrug.

"And just what's wrong with the piano?" Was it him or did the guy almost seem…affronted? He returned this with a blank stare and a vague gesture to said instrument, "I can't play for shit. Any instrument really." He thought for a second, "No wait, I can play guitar. Sort of. Chad's been giving me lessons."

The musician matched this with a blank look of his own. "…Right. You know? It's not that hard. C'mere I'll show you." Ichigo almost got up to follow until he remembered his current predicament. "Actually, it'd probably be a better idea for me to just stay over here ya'know?" He absently toyed with the frayed fabric that wrapped around his left wrist. There had been no time to find a proper bandage so he had used a strip of Zangetsu's cloth and he hoped the sword hadn't minded too much, it had been kind of an emergency after all so probably not.

The Noah stared him blankly for a second before a light seemed to click on. "Ah right, I suppose some other time then." Yeah, if he could ever get that random disintegration under wraps then sure. But until then he was better off staying away from important looking things, or anything alive for that matter. He'd probably wind up accidentally burning some poor bastard's skin off when they tried to touch him like what happened to Ishida and…wait.

"Hey, how did you grab me?" Seeing the look of confusion he clarified, "Back in the desert, you dragged me here. How?" Because by all rights he shouldn't have been able to do so. Not-Tensa tilted his head to the side, "You mean how did I escape injury via that ridiculous and unstable mess that you call your spiritual presence? Oh don't look so surprised, it'd literally be impossible not to notice." Gold eyes watched the teen keenly. "I assume you have some clue as to what is going on?" "I know what its doing-"

(a surge of power, the sharp crack of a body hitting pavement, burning flesh and a scream-) "But not why." The Noah finished. "I might have a theory." He pointed to the wrapped fist, "But I'm going to have to see that first." Dark brown eyes turned wary as their owner gave a hard stare, finally -lips taught- he followed with a slow nod. The cloth came off with little trouble, its purpose having been fulfilled and thus reabsorbed back into the spiritual fabric from where it came. This continued on until the very last little bit peeled off to reveal- "What the actual fuck?"

Bizarre. That was the only way to describe it. That long messy cut he had received what felt like a lifetime ago back at the shop had sealed over with this strange thing. He could see small flecks of it scattered around the back of his hand, sinking into the tan flesh, corrupting it . Hesitantly he felt along the edge, taking in the smooth almost glasslike quality and ethereal sheen. It felt warm, almost- (Innocent) A set of gloves gently took his hand. He started. "Its just as I thought."

Ichigo tore his eyes away to gape at the Noah. "What?" "That-" A nod to the hand, "-right there is the reason for all your problems." He shot the hand a look as though it had personally offended him somehow. "The sporadic power swells and blockages, mood swings, hell even the fact that you've still been able to galavant about as a patron of souls in the first place. Its all because of this." He gave the stone a tap, eliciting a shiver. The teen was torn between asking how he knew this and telling the man to back the hell off because he was too close but was cut off when he began to speak again, "You've probably been subconsciously syncing with it for weeks and all it needed was a single opening and bam you're an Accommodator."

"Okay." He carefully pulled his hand out of the other's grip, "So what am I supposed to do about that?" He sat back on his haunches and appeared to think it over for a bit before pulling a face, "Well there's nothing for it." He sighed, scratching the back of his head with a gloved hand. "Unless you want to spend the rest of your short existance in isolation -haunted by the weight of your failures as you begin your slow but assured descent into madness and subsequent self-destruction- you have to synchronize with it." The resigned way he said it, as if he were being put upon by something truly bothersome, made the teen twitch just a bit.

"So saying I do this thing, what happens?" "Well, it should allow for things to reach a stable equilibrium…" "But?" He prompted. "I'm not going to lie to you, once you choose to do something like this there isn't any going back. Because if you successfully manage to come out of this there's a strong possibility that things are going to be…different. You're going to be different. Different in ways that not even I could foresee."

"I see." He shut his eyes for a moment. The faces of his family and friends flashed though his mind in an instant. Silently he clenched his fist. 'No going back huh?' His focus shifted to the blade sitting on his lap and he remembered the spirit's words. To hesitate and he would be stuck here, trapped at a crossroads until time claimed him. To go back was a death sentence for certain. So that only left one thing, to move on and keep walking forward. He opened his eyes and met the golden gaze head on with a level stare. "What do I have to do?"

"Just try to focus on your left hand. Now, do you feel the swirling energies there in the center trying to mix and incorporate with your own?" "…Yeah?" "Let it. Don't try to fight it. Accept it." It hurt. A gloved hand reached up to cup the pained teen's cheek and he opened his eyes (when had they closed?) His hand burned with something fierce wrenching soul-deep and he felt his breath get caught on molten gold and warm skin bleeding into inhuman grey. The Noah shot him a rueful smile. "Then you say the magic words."

Lips moved unbidden with a memory long forgotten, "Innocence: Activate." And the world flashed a dizzying whirl of grey-blue-green-white and then went dark. --------------------------------[ - XIV - ]------------------------------------ "It's time to get up now my little nephew, you've been asleep long enough. Get up Allen. Wake up." --------------------------------[ - XV - ]------------------------------------Waking up somewhere with a head full of memories that one had not had prior to falling unconscious was a hell in of itself and suffice to say he currently had the mother of all headaches. If it were not for the fact that he had sworn off alcohol both in this life and the last (and boy wasn't that a thought) he could've sworn this was what a hangover felt like. He bit back a groan. Where was he anyway? The last thing he remembered was the moonlit sands of Hueco Mundo before being dragged upon the Ark by his insufferable arse of an uncle. Who also knew that the Ark's reach appearantly extended into the afterlife and neglected to tell him. He'd have to talk to him about it when he was less annoyed at him of course because the Noah was kind of on his shit list at the moment. Afterall, not only had he somehow managed to disguise himself and convince him that he had been a sword spirit of all things, he had done so all the while binding up the true essence of his powers. Thus allowing for things to escalate so out of hand that he couldn't successfully hold back the flood anymore resulting in their impromptu powwow in the Ark. A perfectly reasonable excuse to be mad at somebody, right? And, okay so he might not've actually remembered him or his penchant for pulling shit like that at the time but now he did and it was the principle of the matter and seriously who the hell does stuff like that?!

"Someone who actually has a sense of self-preservation, unlike yourself."

The youth started. Well 'started' is a bit of an understatement, more like: jerked up and awake with a yelp before getting immediately slammed with a vicious wave of vertigo sending one careening head-over-heels to the floor. He cracked an eye open and stared blearily up at the ceiling. Allen (or was it Ichigo now? Urgh, this was gonna get confusing…) stared blankly at the familiar walls painted black in the pre-dawn hour. His room, he was in his room and that was his bed that he had just fell off of like an idiot. Vaguely he felt the Noah's amusement filter through the back of his mind. The bastard was laughing at him right now.

Muttering a few choice words under his breath, he leveraged himself up and ran a hand through his already disheveled hair with a sigh. Had he woke anyone else with that little spill just now? He froze, taking a second to listen and see if he could hear if either of the girls had stirred. (Sisters! He had sisters!) Hm, seems like they were still asleep. Good, it was still kind of early after all. Satisfied with his assessment he allowed himself a moment to simply not think and just take everything in and confirm that, yes, this was indeed his room that his mortal body was now currently in. How did he even get back here anyway? He had the sneaking suspicion that his uncle had something to do with it. Well there was no sense beating around the bush. "Neah?" He asked catching the other's attention, "Did you do something to me?"

"Now what makes you think that?" He made sure the other could feel the flatness of his look. "You honestly think I would take advantage of your indisposed state to 'borrow' your body for my own personal use? Why Allen I'm almost insulted-" Yes, because you've done it before. Multiple times. "-really, have you no faith my nephew? For shame."

"Neah what did you do ?" The youth asked with a growing sense of alarm.

"Oh, nothing." A nonchalant shrug, "By the way did you know Kisuke's shop has a rather impressive stock of sweets? Some of them I haven't even seen in centuries! Apparently Tessai likes to custom make them in his free time, not something people really take the time to do anymore these days you know?" Whatever alarm he had felt had multiplied tenfold as the other blithely went on. "Oh he left you a note by the way."

"What?" "On the back of your hand -no not that one the other one- yes your right." He flipped the limb over and blinked at the messy scrawl in what looked to be (and knowing the blond probably was) permanent marker pen. From there he began to read: "'Ichigo (or whatever relevant name you may now go by), after you left for your understandable and completely justifiable alone time it was brought to a general concensus that I, being the bright and incredibly humble shopkeep that I am-" He had to snort at this, "- would be the one to help find a solution for your little problem. (It should also be said that your friends can put up quite the convincing argument expessially when aided by Inoue-san's intriguing and -dare I say it- somewhat terrifying imagination.) And I was all set up to do so until -imagine my surprise- I found that the problem had up and resolved itself! Naturally my curiosity was piqued and it was only with the apperance of a certain somebody that the questions I had were oh so graciously answered. He was even willing to indulge the curious scientist in me for a bit!-'"

"What?!" The teen hissed, stopping himself for a second as narrowed eyes stared down at the scribbled text. The Noah of course offered no explanation and he sighed. Resigning himself to a month's worth of paranoia and check-overs in order to see if the two madmen had done anything else to him.

A mental nudge drew his attention back to the note, "'-So it was upon further examination that we found with the assistance of the substance (of what I'm now informed is to be known as Innocence - fascinating stuff really-) now present in both your physical and spiritual bodies there was created a sort of stabilized equilibrium so that you are no longer in danger of a catastrophic meltdown, congrats! Oh and I'm not mad at you for what happened to my shop and the Innocence samples, the data you provided was more than enough to cover what you owed for the damages.'" He twitched ever so faintly.

"Don't forget the post-script!" 'There's more?' He flipped it over to his palm, "P.S. Tell your uncle I said hi! He's given me such great ideas and that Tessai's always willing to talk over tea again. Oh and enjoy the new hair, it looks quite good on you! Bye-bye~ Kisuke'" He let the hand fall. So he wasn't a ticking time bomb anymore, that was good. But the thought of his uncle and the dubious shopkeep being anywhere remotely near one another caused him to shudder.

"Oh come on, he's not that bad." His uncle chided.

"Yes he is and so are you. You're both horrible, horrible monsters who thrive on chaos and destruction and proceed to drag anyone unlucky enough to be within blast-radius down with you via your own personalized brands of insanity." He intoned flatly, "And what did he mean hair?!"

"Now before I say anything I don't want you to freak out. It was a bit of an unexpected side effect from the transition but don't worry you look fine. And, hey, it's not like you're a stranger to having weird hair." "Neah you are terrible at reassuring people now what happened to my hair?" He attempted to tug at the short strands to no avail. "You might've gone a bit prematurely grey but like I said its not that much of a big deal. It isn't completely white, just… most of it." He was quick to offer.

"My hair's white?" Again? Damn it all, of all the things to carry over. He'd already been through this once with certain people (who shall remain nameless) calling him 'strawberry' he didn't need to be 'beansprout' as well. He groaned softly and flopped back, arm shielding his eyes. At least he hadn't been cursed with a lack of height this go around like a certain snow-headed captain that he knew.

He lifted the arm and stared at it. Tired eyes traced the contours of the reddened flesh as he slowly flexed, watching as the embedded stone glimmered with its own quiet light. A small frown graced his lips. This was quite the fine mess that he had gotten himself in wasn't it?

What was he supposed to now? Sure he could always dye his hair but what of his arm? Long-sleeved shirts and gloves would only work for so long and what of his personality? You can't exactly hide a whole lifetime's worth of memories and experiences forever, not without having those close to you start to worry. And it'd be an icy day in hell before he let something like that happen. So they'd have to come up with something to keep them from freaking out…and then what? Once everything was said and done where did they go from there? What was there for a once-exorcist turned-substitute-shinigami and the Noah that he housed who just so happened to be his past incarnation's adopted uncle? "Well whatever there is we'll just have to persevere through it for better or worse. Besides it isn't as though you haven't had your own fair share of problems before, now have you?"

He had a point. He just had to keep walking huh? The youth's lips curved into a bittersweet smile. Yeah, he could do that.