#the ghost king like ill get you and your little assassin too

[tiny-huts]

The ghost king is, I think, one of my favorite Drizzt books but my one major criticism is given the fact that bastard rock supreme canonically wouldn't let Jarlaxle trance/sleep normally for large chunks of that book his behavior should have been 60% more deranged. Have you ever been really sleep deprived. Like REALLY sleep deprived. The bitches who know know

[chaneajoyyy]

Who’s writing new BP fics? It’s feeling kinda dry out here

Oh you gotta keep looking cause they out here!!!

NEW/NEW-ISH BP FICS

- winter wonderland series (25 days of christmas challenge), Chunk series (updated)- @ghostfacekill-monger

- you better watch out series (25 days of christmas challenge), baby daddy series- @teakturn

- couple’s getaway series, message therapist erik, erik and you have relationship issues that need to be resolved, incubus erik x reader series, gamer erik humiliates his girl, christmas wishes & mistletoe kisses series, all vampire eriks stories, drug dealer erik gets ino an entaglement with a married woman series, erik teaching his daughter how to love her dark skin, assassin erik and his girl london make up for lost time-   @nahimjustfeelingit-writes

- all i want series- @thadelightfulone

- the jabari that stole christmas, misfit wakandans, er*k in a box, t’challa’s 12 days of christmas, the jabari-cracker, christmas even will find erik, the coffee prince series (updated), song of stevens (not new but do read), will the bell ring? (updated)-  @eerythingisshaka

- chrismasing with you-  @ceeverse

- mama is wild, how he acts when he’s sick: m’baku “mama’s other baby’ jabari, peaches, how he acts whe he’s sick: erik “i can do it myself” stevens, how he acts when he’s sick: t’challa i’m fine” udaku, final decision, body pillow, the most dangerous game-  @akimi-youngblood

- his majesty, my king series; he chosen bride, a jabari wedding (not so new but do read), he wasn’t mad enough for me, clean-up woman, i wish you would, mistletoe series, dadmonger series- @snowbaku

- what if...?, without question, polaroids, the temple series, queen shuri, wh you are series-  @tchallasbabymama

- biggest puddle ever, crab legs, play fighting, the fight, let me tell you a story, stop, got it bad, what would you do series, sugar babe series, poetic justice, messing w/ erik while he’s playing the game, erik had a reputation of being a fuckboy. tha meant you had to be careful around him. guard your heart. it was a solid plan until he came in and ruined all your plans- @dreamingofmilk

- our christmas, how to feel, warm colors series (not so new but do read), thanksgiving w/ mr. stevens, valentine’s gumbo (sequel to thankgiving with mr. stevens)-  @mermaidchansons

- she likes me, huh? nuh uh, cute enough to eat, screams in the night series (updated), open up, autumn leave & cookie thieves, one way or another, mr. telephone series, you ain’t hear that?- @supersizemeplz (check masterlist)

- anniversary blues, the chosen one series (updated), the sweetest thing series, in the light series-  @devnicolee

- the arrival series, boxer!baku series (updated), fireflies and foot races, sessions-  @muse-of-mbaku

- 85 “you can’t cum unless i say so” & 89 “you’re drooling. you really don’t deserve it though, do you?”, seventy-three, “29, 75 & 82″, “5, 13, & 69″- @marvelmaree

- subconscious- @freddiefcknmercury

- shameful series- @iwrite4poc

- only forever series, what lies beneath series,bunme takes new york (part of space between series)- @dramaqueeenamby

- letters for my love series, just for this moment series, she’s mine series, abiona au series- @sarcastic-sunshines

- redemption series (updated), starlight series, dress up- @airis-paris14

- new start series (with “reader meets erik who is a single father”), round 2 series, reader sleeping over a erik’s, “erik and reader are opposites- like she’s so nice, calm and soft, and erik is mean... as always and his family is so confused on how they’re dating”, imagine where erik and the reader has heir firs date and when he get home he’s super excited and tell his friends how happy and in love he is?, erik with goofy reader on a mission, reader catching erik using her expensice skincare products afer she told him it’s off limit, hug time, erik ghosting after a fight with his gf & she hears he’s out acting single so she decide she’s single too. but he shows up & all like “who said we broke up?”,  reader is not answering her phone and erik is worried/irrirated because the day before he was mean to her and she left his house crying?, an imagine where erik finding out the reader is powerful (like a mutant), erik & mbaku fighting over the reader, found you series, erik helping his need tomboy bff get a makeover & he starts to get jealous of how much attention she starts to get from other guys,  vulnerable soft erik where he and the reader get into an argument and later that night he’s trying to sleep but can’t because she’s refusing to come to bed with him and he has to be vulnerable with her and tells her “you know i can’t sleep without you”?, “short imagine or headcanon ha erik finds out his girlfriend has more body’s then him or his a mafia leader, something between those lines. but instead of being upset for her not telling him he’s actually cool with it”, erik comforting the reader after finding out she lost a loved one and he had a good day, reader learns she’s pregnant and comes up with a creative way to tell erik , erik and the reader are set up on a blind date by mutual friends, “reader is studying for her upcoming test and she is frustrated with the amount of studying she has to do.  erik notices she has been studying for a long time, and tries to do everything to relax her mind”, erik takes reader to wakanda for the first time, erik sees his girl still sleep with a stuffed animal and by kinda makes fun of her but when she puts it up he sees she struggles withouth it?, “imagine with erik inspired by the somg caretaker by dram and sza, like maybe the reader is feeling a bit ill/nauseous and erik to take care of her”, diaper change, sofboi erik where he asks the reader to marry him, hc of erik being jealous of his girl is too close to t’challa? always texting/wanting to hang out when they visit, back to you series, readering driving erik nuts with cravings & mood swings. ex: interrupting his sleep for food runs only to say she doesn’t want that anymore when he returns & demand something else, “ whatever you’re trying to butter me up for, the answer is no”?, how did he meet his love?, life together, your first time, hurting, fears, sick day, jealous series, when you’re sick, night fights, two lines, opening up, newborn, comfort, some love, insecure, first steps, it’s time series, cool down time, first day back- @killmongerdrabbles

- back & forth-  @supremethunda

- baby mama series, again, move, guess, night, nsfw alphabet, bow- @woahitslucyylu

- reactions o their girl’s wap (with erik), erik and reader being petty in the house after an argument-  @tastingmellow

- next lifetime series, days off with erik, girls trip series (updated),the way you make me feel- @theficplug

-  only then am i human series,a little vacation- @opalsandlace

-faded series, waves series, concrete cowboys series, black boys bloom thors first series (volume 3)- @uzumaki-rebellion

- black tie event-  @laketaj24

- genuine, numb- @taterfics

- city boy and his country girl series, wake up, meet the furys- @blackmissfrizzle

- come thru, this lil’ game we play-  @writetimes

- in between the lines series- @melodyofmbaku

- him, her and us series; conversations and coffee trips series, dancing around each oher series, mrs., you again series, where are we now?, cold coffee, here we are again series, summer love (could be any of the marvel men including t’challa); love, apps, and attitudes series; give me a reason (search for t’challa x reader)-  @iliketowrite1996

- homewrecker series (updated), family reunion- @shaekingshitup

- unexpected things happen in the clucky’s drive-thru, where you going: a quarantine quickie, halloween, delicate series, the best man-  @majesticbrownjawn

- i like tha series (updated), shea butter (baby) series  @nachtaiwrites

- the spririt of christmas, dentist series (updated), waiting to get home, best friends series, line love series, hell loves satin: tales of a mascochist, tattoo party- @hearteyes-for-killmonger

- uncharted series (updated), metamorphasis series, the remodel series, the boy is mine series (collab with @dashhoney25), sweet heat, quarantine bae, throttle, sugar, toxic, fair is fair, work boo (updated)-  @soufcakmistress

- caught up series- @twistedcharismaaa

- homebody series- @truglori

- roadtrip series- @cecereads209

- lights out, a better man- @reelwriter19

- you mean it? series, haunted series- @heykillmongerluhme

- end in flames series, my health- @bvlckgirlmvgix (not so new but do check out!)

***PLEASE HIT ME UP TO ADD YOUR STORIES!!!***

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

Can we get more fae!Dream and witch!Tommy?

Of course! :)

Tommy is one of the few who know the hidden secrets of witchcraft, having learnt them ever since a strange musician found him after his “parents” left him in the woods to die. Ever since then, he’d learnt the ways of magic from a man far more ancient than he appeared.

Everyone knew the forest was fae territory, most of it anyway, and the small family were one of the few humans who ever dared step foot into them. Humans might not even have been correct- Philza's eyes had the brightness seen in those fae-touched, and Tommy had started to doubt the feathered wings that sprung from his back were human magic in origin, and he was pretty fucking suspicious the giant pink haired man with piglike ears and blood red eyes that avoided iron like the plague and had seemingly no sense of morality might just flat out be a fucking full blooded fae, which was… terrifying, but he supposed the fact he was undyingly loyal to Philza was a comfort.

Tommy had grown up being taught the dangers of the fae. Never telling anyone your true name was something he learnt alongside not touching hot stoves. He probably wouldn’t have, anyway- Tommy a nickname for some pretentious Greek myth name Wilbur so cruelly gave him- but knowing the dangers giving it brought sobered him. No one in the little family gave their true names except to each other, and even then it was so seldom spoken that you could believe the winged man was truly called Philza, the fae (?) Technoblade, Wilbur really bore the last name Soot.

While Philza's magic lay in the animals that populated the forest, Techno's illusion and glamour, and Wilbur's in the tunes he made with his guitar and his voice, what Tommy was adept was in the art of brewing potions. Unfortunately, all the best herbs and reagents lay in the areas carved out by the fae. Tommy was fine with that normally, honestly. His potions did their job even if they weren’t the best.

That was, until Wilbur, his beloved big brother Wilbur, came down with a fever sure to kill, leaving him pale and clammy like a living ghost, drowsy and confused and distressed on the rare occasions he was awake, hair paling from black in locks. None of what Philza and Technoblade's magic could heal a malady this strong, nor could any mundane medicines. Yet, Tommy had heard rumours of a rare flower blooming deep in fae territory, able to brew potions able to heal even illnesses this dire.

So it was with a heavy heart and great fear Tommy entered the dangerous areas of the forest that skirted the boundaries of real and fake, with the singleminded devotion of saving his brother.

Meanwhile, the de-facto ruler of the forest, a powerful fae going by Dream, became aware of a human entering his territory for the first time in so many millennia. They’d stopped coming after he’d claimed the last one, a mortal assassin who gave up his true name too quickly and become his foreverafter. George was more interesting than most mortals like that, ones he’d toy with and let perish from boredom. Despite his lack of knowledge of the fae, he was useful in his assassination skills and interesting to converse with, so he’d kept him. He still cried almost every night for his long-dead family, which was wonderfully amusing.

Either the new human was stupid enough to go into fae territory or ignorant enough that they didn’t know what they were getting into. Either way, he assumed the mortal was one of the boring ones he’d play with for a few weeks before leaving to perish. He sent off the young faun Tubbo and sylph Ranboo to deal with the mortal, while observing him in case he was smart enough to escape a confrontation with inexperienced fae.

Tommy was more than adept to brush through the awkward tricks of the young fae, avoiding their offerings and honeyed words, and managing to trick them into revealing the area of the mythic flowers by the knowledge fae must always repay a favour. The two of them always seemed to occasionally be around a corner for the rest of his journey, gaining an interest in this strange clever mortal, but not as much as their leader Dream ever did.

The flowers were in the grove of Hannah, a powerful dryad, though Tommy was unaware of this. However, Dream was, and he knew he couldn’t allow Tommy to arrive there- Hannah hated people picking her flowers, and there’s no way this interesting new mortal would survive. He appeared to Tommy in his true form, trying every trick to get him to stay, and more than that to get his True Name and gain eternal power over him.

Tommy, of course, attempted to avoid this clearly very powerful and obsessive elder fae, but found the roads twisting in ways that made no sense, all leading to the palace of the Fae King Eret, the land around becoming impenetrable, forcing Tommy into the castle filled with tempting food, soft warm beds, all so tempting for a weary traveller. Still, he refused to give in, and found himself face to face with Dream again, who managed to find out the crucial detail of why Tommy was in the forest. Of course Tommy knew it was a bad idea, but he was so desperate for the cure to his brothers malady he was half tempted to give over his true name for it. And Dream was so desperate to own this interesting mortal he was willing to offer him and his family far, far more than just a simple cure in exchange for a greater deal, the true names of the four of them for all the luxury he could give. After all, his love for this strange, clever mortal was worth sacrificing much for.

If anyone else wants to send in some more AU ideas it’d be lovely and I will make them heavily involve c!primeboys no matter what and again that’s a challenge.

[loveafterthefact]

Love After the Fact Chapter 69: Making Short-Distance Calls

Keith and Lance make some calls back to the Imperial Compound.

Also, because I’m incredibly mature... Nice

First  Previous  Next

“Hey.” Keith peeks around the bedroom entryway to the main room, where Lance is stretched out on the floor in just a pair of pants, reading on his datapad. “Could you go take care of the elk and make breakfast? And take a little while? I need to speak to my mother.”

“Is everything okay? Are you alright?” The Altean rises to his feet, brushing dust off his pants.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine.” Keith manages a smile for his concerned mate. The Altean’s frown only deepens, clearly not convinced. “I just… want some privacy, okay?”

“Sure, as long as you’re alright.” Lance sets a tablet aside, kisses his cheek, puts BleepBloop on his shoulder, dances outside to play with Bruna and the bull elk.

Summoning his courage, he settles into his father’s old chair at the small work table, a breeze teasing his loose hair. He turns his gaze briefly through the glassless window into the open clearing, where Lance is petting Bruna, scales, dark skin gleaming in the sun.

He takes a deep breath. He makes his choice. He calls his mother.

“Hey, sweetheart! I tried calling you last quintant.” Krolia smiles. “Did you have a nice time with Lance?”

“Actually, that’s what I need to talk to you about,” Keith whispers. That hurt he’d felt simmers to the surface again.

Krolia’s brow creases with worry. “Is everything alright?”

“Well… No. It’s not.” Keith squares his shoulders, drawing on what he’s learned from his time on Altea. He allows himself to be a prince. “I saw how you looked at Lance at the Sanctorium. I don’t appreciate it in the least.”

“I see.” Krolia lifts an eyebrow. “Perhaps you should talk to him. He recommended we keep it between ourselves, for your sake.”

“Lance isn't the problem!” Keith snaps. “You’re the only one who has a problem.”

Krolia averts her gaze. “You’re right. He bears me no ill will.”

“We’re starting a family,” Keith states. “In a movement.”

“Your trust in him-” Krolia begins, warning clear in her voice.

“Is more than deserved. More than earned… Lance has done nothing but defend me against his people and protect me, even despite immense pressure from his father, who expected him to rape me, pushing and pushing and pushing us for phoebs.

“He cannot have you around him if you pose a risk to his reputation. He deserves the respect of his people. He deserves the respect of his kits. What happened at the Sanctorium cannot happen. Ever.” He sighs, ears wilting just a bit. “I need you to actually try, Mom. Not passively, to appease me. I need you to actually try, so that you can be a part of my kits’ lives.”

Krolia stares at her son, quite suddenly disturbed. “King Alfor expected him to-”

“Yes. but you never thought of that, did you? You assumed that Lance just didn’t feel like mating with me because I was too young! You didn't think at all about what that cost him! Or me, for that matter!”

“You didn’t-”

“Why would I?! You think that’s what I wanted to tell you about when I finally got to see you again? That I was sexually abused by my mate’s father? No! I wanted to tell you about how happy Lance makes me, and how important he is to us all, and about the work that I’m doing! Because I am happy, and I wanted to share that with you!" Keith takes a moment, composes himself.

“Regardless, we can’t have anybody undermining his influence. Especially not now, when we’re about to start enacting major changes on Altea. You're the Imperial Advisor. You have power here. Not only could your lack of respect lessen our influence, but it could put us in actual danger. If we’re going to have kits, I cannot allow that. Ever.”

Krolia’s staring at her son, visibly distressed. Keith hates it, hates the look on her face thinking of what he’s experienced at the hand of King Alfor. He hates that he made her feel that, that he’s broken her heart yet again. But she needs to know exactly what kind of person Lance is, and exactly what kind of person he himself has grown into.

“Forgive me, Keith. I didn’t know- I should have given the boy a better chance, like I said I would.”

“Yes, you should have. But you didn’t. And now, here we are, with an ultimatum. Learn to behave, or you can’t see my kits. Or me.” Keith sets his hands down on the table. “I’d better go. I gave Lance a couple chores to do, so he’s probably forgotten all about them and fed himself to something… I love you, mom.”

“I love you too, kitten. I’ll see you soon. I’ve gathered some things you might need for your season. I’d best talk to Lance, too.”

“Thace will talk to him. He’s a physician.”

Krolia’s ears droop. “Okay. ‘Bye, kitten.”

“‘Bye.” After he’s hung up, Keith rests his head on the edge of the table, lets out a chirp. He isn’t surprised. He’s distressed enough. He feels worse when Lance comes running in.

“What was that? Was that you?”

“Yeah…” Keith sits back up. “I spoke to my mother. About how she treats you.”

“Civilly? I mean, she hates my guts and wants to rip them out through my throat, but...”

“She’s not civil when you’re not looking.”

“Ah. That’s problematic.”

“I know. I’ve taken care of it, but it really sucks.” Keith’s ears are drooped, practically limp on either side of his head. “She has power and a station. We don’t need people to see us all butting heads.”

“I’m sorry, beloved.” Lance rubs the base of his ear, like he used to do before, when Keith had trouble sleeping.

“Not your fault… It just sucks.” Keith leans into that old comfort, letting his chemistry take over as soothing hormones travel through his system. “What else do we have to do today?”

“It can wait-”

“No. We have stuff to do. What’s next?”

“Calling Adam and Shiro. They’ve been collaborating.”

“Is that what we’re calling it?” Keith gives a ghost of a smile.

“Collaborating only in the professional sense, I believe. Adam is… We’ll say extremely cautious. Come here.” Lance guides him to his feet, gives him a hug. “Let’s do the next one outside. It’s nice and warm out. I know you like the sun.”

Keith nods, humming his assent into the crook of Lance’s neck. He lets his mate guide them outside into a patch of sunlight. BleepBloop parks himself in Keith's lap for pets.

Adam’s walking when he answers the call. “Your majesties! What can I do for you?”

“Oh, I just wanted an update on your work. We haven’t seen you hardly at all since we arrived.”

“That’s hardly my fault,” Adam remarks, smirking as he settles on a couch next to Shiro. The large Galra immediately puts an arm around him. “As I understand it, you're finally getting your house in order. Tell me, do you plan to expand said house?”

“Why do we keep you?” Keith mumbles, rolling his eyes, ears tipping back with the motion.

“Because you’d be dead without me. Quite literally.”

“Oh, yeah. How has our work been coming along?”

“We’re handling it,” Adam confirms, leaning into Shiro’s side a little more. “Now, as I understand it, you have not been invited to join the Imperial family for dinner?”

“Not at all,” Lance confirms.

Adam and Shiro glance at each other, visibly troubled. Shiro frowns. “How unusual. That is the tradition. In ancient days, when a chief of another tribe visited, they were immediately invited to dine with that tribe’s chief and their family. It could just be because they know your concerns are elsewhere, but the invitation should still have been extended..."

“I wonder if Lotor and Allura could tell us anything,” Adam muses. “Or Pidge. They’ve all been running around together. In the meantime, we have found something that might interest you. Do you remember that shipment with the weight discrepancy?”

“I don’t,” Keith grumbles as Lance nods. He fixes his mate with an annoyed gaze. More secrets. He really will strangle this idiot.

“Seriously, Lance? You didn’t tell him?” Adam shakes his head. “Nevermind. We’ve discovered that it’s happened multiple times, over the last two decaphoebs. Someone is smuggling on the regular, and someone else is making sure it’s not discovered. These records are not flagged. They’ve been approved and archived, but have no name attached to inspection. The ships hail from Ariel, Pollux, Feyiv, Senfama, and Marchanda. Twenty-three in total.”

“So these are not our assassins,” Lance clarifies.

“Well, they certainly aren’t all your assassins,” Adam agrees.

“Sending assassins to Daibazaal and then on to Altea is stupid,” Keith says, still sulking. “It would only make it easier to trace the client. Unless the client wasn’t Galra at all.”

“Yes. But now we have multiple shipments, which suggests something else entirely. Anyway, we’re still looking into it. We’ll let you know if we find anything. Otherwise, assume no news is no news.”

“Understood. Thank you, Adam. Shiro.” Lance smiles. “Keep up the good work.”

“Always, your Majesties.” Adam bows his head, ends the call. Brief, but informative.

The ensuing silence falls heavy.

“Beloved?” Lance murmurs.

Keith’s leaning away from Lance, not looking at him. “This is becoming a habit, Lance,” he warns. “I don’t appreciate it.”

“I… I didn’t realize.” Lance pales, color washing from skin and scales. “You’re right. It is becoming a habit.”

Why didn’t you tell me? Why are you keeping secrets?!” The tone and loudness of Keith's voice send BleepBloop running from his lap, screeching with irritation from a nearby tree.

“I didn’t want to trouble you.” Lance studies his hands in his lap, guilty.

“Why do you think I mated with you or started a relationship with you at all?!” Keith’s on his feet now, ready to give a right and proper scolding. “I want to be troubled! I want to be there, and help you, and share your burdens! They’re my burdens, too! I don’t have secrets from you! Don’t you dare keep secrets from me! Ever!” Keith sighs, shoulders drooping, anger turning to something softer. “No more. Please.”

“No more. I promise. I’m sorry.” Lance tugs on his hand, pulling Keith back down next to him. “I actually don’t know how to do this very well. I know how to get along with you, and look after you, but I don’t really know relationships that well... I just want you to be happy.”

“Lance, I’d rather know what’s going on around me and be absolutely fucking miserable than wander around happy and ignorant. I mean, not telling me about my mother not liking you is one thing, not telling me about your deal with Alfor is another, but this? Lance, someone tried to murder us! In our sleep! Don’t I deserve to know about that?”

“Yes… You do. I’m sorry.”

At Lance’s miserable face, Keith softens a little. “I want to be with you in everything, Lance. Even the stuff that hurts. Especially the stuff that hurts.”

“I understand… I’m sorry, Keith.”

“You’re forgiven.” Keith kisses his mate’s cheek, right over his dulled scales. “I trust your intentions. Promise we’ll work on it? I'll help.”

“I promise,” Lance whispers, voice fervent and strained.

“My good man.” Keith smiles, presses a gentle kiss to Lance’s lips. “We should call Lotor.”

“Okay.”

Keith leans against Lance, talking over the comms device, calling his cousin. The half-Galra is glistening, shirtless, a loose bit of silvery hair clinging to his forehead.

“Oh, thank the gods! An excuse!” The prince wipes his face with a rag. “I think Kolivan was actually trying to kill me!”

“More like trying to save you from sympathy weight,” the Galra grunts, his sons snickering behind him.

“Pfft. I am a prime specimen. I don’t gain sympathy weight. Or any kind of weight, for that matter.” Lotor grins at his coach. “Go beat up my generals for a bit so I can speak to my cousin and brother.”

Kolivan bows, fist over his breast, his sons doing the same on either side. Once they’re gone, Lotor turns back to his comms unit. “Now, what can I do for you?”

“Your medical records. I need them,” Keith states, not bothering with niceties.

Lotor frowns. “My mother said she gave them to you.”

Lance shakes his head. “She refused us. Why would she lie to you?”

“I don’t know… Well, perhaps my medical records will tell us something.” The prince shrugs, good-natured and mischievous. Ancients help Allura with their children, because clearly, Lotor is going to be no help at all. “Ah, Mother. I love her dearly, but… Science isn’t a warm discipline, if you know what I mean.”

“I… have not idea what that means,” Keith mumbles.

“It means she’s emotionally distant and more likely to use logic than kindness,” Lance summarizes.

“Pretty much.” Lotor drinks from a flask, leaning against an old wall in the shade. “Have you learned anything of our assassins?”

“Nothing for certain. But there have been several incoming cargo ships that did not pass inventory inspection, but were approved anyway. No signature from the inspector. They appear to be coming from five planets in Galra territory.”

“So these might not be our assassins, or even the client, but it is a problem. Which planets?”

“Ariel, Pollux, Feyiv, Senfama, and Marchanda,” Keith recites.

“Ariel is a mining planet, populated. Pollux is a verdant planet, with farming communities, self-sustaining. Feyiv is polar, but its surface harbors organic materials used in some of our biomechanics. Senfama is lush and green, a rich source of medicines. It is also where we tested our Zaiforge prototypes. Marchanda is a mining planet like Ariel, but devoid of life.”

Keith wonders briefly if his uncle knows all of this. He doubts it. he has his son to know it for him.

“This is definitely problematic,” Lotor decides. “I’ll discuss with Shiro and Adam, see if I can be of assistance. I will keep you apprised, and I will ensure that your delightful little associate gets hold of my records for you.”

“Many thanks, dear brother.” Lance smiles. “And do tell Pidge I said hello. I hope that our run-in with the kronil didn’t scare them too badly.”

“On the contrary. We carried it home and dissected it together. Allura nearly gutted us for it.” Lotor chuckles. “I’ll take my leave of you. Good day!”

“See you!” Keith waves his cousin out of the call, throws himself back with a groan.

“Ready to be done?”

“ So ready.” Keith sighs, snuggling in against Lance’s chest to listen to his heartbeat. “I know we only called three people, but I am exhausted. There was so much.”

“I know. We haven’t even called Thace and Hunk, yet.”

“Hm. I think we should talk to Alfor too. About plans in case Altea is attacked.”

“Do you think it likely?” Lance strokes Keith’s hair, enjoying the loose strands between his fingers.

“I don’t know. But Altea wants peace. My people want peace. If some faction is out there preparing to rebel and bring chaos, then I want to be able to stop them.” Keith closes his eyes. “I haven't lived at the compound or my village very long, but I’ve seen awful things, Lance. The things nobody wants to talk about. Bearers, summoned to do their service onlu quintants after giving birth. Sires, leaving pregnant mates behind, never knowing their kits… Kits always get caught in the middle. They’re the collateral, and then later, the next generation of fodder.”

“You’re not fodder, Keith.”

“I’ll gladly be fodder, if it means my kits won’t have to be.”

Lance is quiet for a moment, then- “Me too. But we can’t just go jumping into battles. We have our own responsibilities: to live, and build a better world.”

“Power and influence?”

“Power and influence. Rest assured, though. If it comes time to raise arms for us, I will. For Daibazaal and Altea.”

“For me, and you,” Keith whispers. “And everything we have between us.”

[7deadlycinderellas]

If the summer of our lives could just come again, ch18

Ao3 link

 On the King’s Road

On the journey back to Winterfell, Sansa tells Shireen the whole story.

She’s a good listener, or perhaps it’s just a good story.

The weather is too terrible to camp very much. Sansa does not feel she misses much travelling in the wheelhouse this time. The few inns they pass cost a great deal, and food is stretched thin.

The two of them sleep in the wheelhouse, pressed close together as though they were sisters sharing secrets. Maybe in a way they are.

And so, these stories shared under moonlit cover, must sustain them. At least that’s how Shireen tells it.

She weeps the day that Sansa is forced to tell her how she died. She shakes her head violently.

“My father wouldn’t do that - he loves me!”

Sansa nods softly.

“Of course he does. That’s what made it so awful.”

Shireen sniffs, and wipes her eyes.

“Did it even help?”

Sansa’s heart breaks in two.

“No. Half your father’s men deserted him. Who would have thought that burning a child alive was bad for morale? He still attacked Winterfell, still tried to take down the Boltons. His remaining forces were crushed. He died later that day, executed by Lady Brienne for using the Red Woman’s black magic to kill your uncle.”

Shireen laughs through her tears.

“Maybe Ser Davos was right to take me away all those years ago.”

Sansa turns solemn. She reaches out to brush a tear off Shireen’s cheek.

“I never met you before. I only knew of you from Davos’s stories. He loved you, mourned you as if you were his own child. His very first thought when he returned with us was to get you to safety. It’s worked so far.”

Shireen slumps, and rests her head on Sansa’s shoulder.

“I used to have dreams of being burned to death in a dragon’s fire,” she says.

“Dragons are just huge beasts,” Sansa assures her, “The real most frightening monsters look just like men.”

Once Shireen’s sobs have subsided a bit, Sansa tries to cheer her up.

“Lady Brienne was the very first woman knight in the seven kingdoms.”

Shireen’s wet eyes blink in surprise.

“How?”

Sansa laughs, “Any knight can make a knight, it’s merely convention that women can’t be knights. She was knighted properly before the Long Night by Jamie Lannister, though she’d been acting the role of true knight for many years before. “

Shireen’s tears have ceased and been replaced by a confused look.

“Jamie Lannister? He’s- well, I wouldn’t call him mean, but…”

Sansa snorts.

“You can call him mean all you want. He pushed my little brother from a window- twice now. He couldn’t walk at all after the first time, and even though it wasn’t all that bad this time, he still can’t run or walk without a cane. Brienne claims he’s a good man underneath, but extracting that man is not within my skill set. Apparently the first step needed is a complete twin removal.”

Shireen sniffs.

“I never had siblings, always wondered what it was like.”

“It’s got its ups and its downs.”

Shireen suddenly purses her lips, remembering something from long ago.

“When Davos took me to Storm’s End, he said he was trying to rescue one of my cousin’s. Said in a different time he could have even been a prince. I guess that’s the closest thing I’ve got.”

Sansa cackles at the word ‘prince’,

“Oh, I am so going to tell him that Davos told you that. That was Gendry he was speaking of, one of your late uncle’s bastards. Davos got him out of King’s Landing fine, he married my younger sister.”

Shireen’s eyes go wide.

“Oh! That means we actually are family already!”

Seven hells, Sansa thought, no wonder Davos was so desperate to protect this girl.

It’s later in the journey, they’re about to cross into the North properly when it happens.

They’d been up early to get a quick start. The day was miraculously clear, and they could cover a great deal of road if it stayed that way.

Sansa had just been standing with she felt her skin prickle. She couldn’t put her finger on anything, just a sudden feeling of wrongness. She feels Lady shift at her side, picking up on her ill at ease. Rotating slowly, she managed to silently catch Brienne’s eye.

They don’t need to speak, Brienne sees her gesture with her eyes off into the tree line.

She pulls, nocks and looses her arrow silently.

All she does is graze the man, splitting the leather of his doublet and slicing the skin underneath, but the yell he lets out it enough. Brienne and the other guards can put him on the ground within a moment when he lurches from the cut on his arm, losing grip on his own bow.

They get him down easily, get his bow from him, but don’t trap his arms fast enough. He pulls the dagger from his belt and cuts his own throat.

With barely a second to think, Ned orders one of the guards to sweep the treeline and see if there was anyone else.

Looking at the man dead on the ground, Sansa feels her stomach lurch. He had been so close....She grasps Shireen’s elbow, her fingers pressed so tightly to her face that she’s left marks on the skin.

The others are arguing.

“That’s a Lannister cloak-”

“But he’s got the Baratheon colors underneath-”

“Which ones though?”

“He’s not one of Renly’s, I’ve never seen him before-”

“A sellsword? But why dress him up.”

Quietly, Sansa walks beside the man’s head, lolling back above the deep cut where his blood gushed free. His dagger has fallen from his lifeless grip.

With a wrinkle of her brow, Sansa knocks it from his hand and picks it up.

“Sansa-” Ned interrupts her, and she tests the items weight.

“He sent it with a catspaw before...to think he knew nothing of how valuable it could be. “

She turns to Ned.

“Don’t think too much on whose man he is. Likely a sellsword, they wouldn’t ask questions. The colors are probably deliberate, meant to confuse. I’m not even sure who he was targeting is important.”

Her stomach sinks with the thought. She isn’t sure herself, it could have been Father or her, or even Shireen and Brienne. She can’t picture the dead man’s sights from where he was standing. They don’t know if he was waiting, watching, or anything.

“Lord Baelish spoke often of the value of chaos. This is Valyrian steel. It was given to a paid assassin before, in an attempt on Bran’s life. I don’t think he was the one who ordered it, but it still ended up in his hand.  It did exactly what it was intended to here, it spread discord.”

“Sansa,” Ned starts, “How do you…”

She turns the dagger over in her hand.

“That’s likely what he wants, to turn us on each other, make us suspicious. He clearly didn’t pick this man for his stealth.”

Ned takes a deep breath.

“What do you suggest?”

Sansa thinks. She’s still unused to people looking to her.

“We keep going. Keep an eye open. Don’t think too hard about it.”

She finds a rag and wipes off the dagger, then tucks it into the pocket at the waist of her skirt.

“And I’ll keep a hold of this.”

 At Winterfell

During a clear day, the raven announcing Sansa and Ned’s return makes it to Winterfell. There is rejoicing. Even Robb looks relieved at the thought of being able to pass the mantle of lord back to his father.

At least by most.

Catelyn sits at the breakfast table long after most of the rest of the keep has left, and the dishes have been cleared. She sits, and thinks.

It would be a lie to say she was not overjoyed at the thought of seeing her eldest daughter again. It would also be a lie to say the thought of seeing Ned again did not fill her with an array of mixed emotions

It’s been over three years. She feels like she should have become more accustomed to things now. Like maybe she should have been able to move past the lies.

Then she hears how her other children, who have lived so many more years than they should, speak of Jon, and of their father.

They can love their brother-cousin, and still look at their father, knowing he lied to them about Jon for so many years. Why can’t she?

Her reverie is broken by the sound of her second youngest re-entering the Great Hall. Bran walks carefully back up to the table, and sits roughly, reaching under the bench to retrieve his cane where he’d left it.

“I nearly made it all the way out to the training yard this time,” he admits to her. He’d managed to lose the last cane somewhere, and when Gendry had given him this one, he’d threatened to ram the next one through the back of his hand if he lost this one.

“Is it easier in the morning?”

Bran nods.

“Sometimes. The ache doesn’t really start up until I’ve stressed it more than a bit.”

Catelyn feels a rush of tenderness at her son’s attitude.

“I know the gods have given you quite a burden to bear.”

Bran laughs.

“The gods didn’t do this me, Jamie Lannister did.”

He doesn’t tell her how small of a burden it seems this time, how his last life he had spent certain he would never do any great deeds like he had dreamed of as a child, never marry, never have a family and likely die alone.

Catelyn raises an eyebrow at him.

“I never took you for one to deny the power of the gods.”

“Given my own experiences, I have grown fairly sure that they must exist, but doubtful that they are at all concerned with us.”

Catelyn looks like she’s going to open her mouth to object to Bran’s irreverence again, so he changes the subject, to what he recognizes is likely troubling her.

“You’re worried about seeing Father again, aren’t you?”

Catelyn nods softly, not seeing the point in denying it. Bran had always been the kindest of the Stark children, the most empathetic. It made sense that he would be able to read it all over her face.

There’s a long moment before Bran responds,

“It was like that for us at the beginning too. We were all so excited to see you again, but we were terrified. Worried about how you would react. “

“I’m not concerned with how you’re father will react-”

Bran cuts her off.

“Wondering whether he felt any guilt at all about the lies he had told.”

Bran looks thoughtful for a time. Catelyn had often seen the ghost of the years in his sister’s eyes, but she’s seen it on him far less often.

“Believe me Mother, I’ve known plenty of guilt about actions in the past that I couldn’t change. Forgiveness is an incredible gift if you’re willing to give it.;

He leans over the end of the bench to hug her.

“You’re allowed to still be angry with him. None of us hold it against you, most of us were angry at him when we found out, at least for a little while. The question is whether or not you want to still be angry at him.”

Bran pulls himself up and rests his cane on the ground.

“You should think on it before they get home. Father always said he did his best thinking in the Godswood. It’s clear today, and no one will bother you there.”

Catelyn doesn’t respond to his suggestion before Jojen sticks his head into the hall and tells Bran that one of his ravens has returned, and with a gesture of his cut hands explained that the bird was “rather insistent” that it’s message be read with haste.

It’s barely a few more minutes before she decides that his suggestion is a good one.

The Godswood is a bit alien to Catelyn still, its pools and ancient woods a part of a faith which is not hers. But it is peaceful, and empty. Sitting below the weirwood, she can pray, undisturbed by anyone but Gray Wind who trots by. Her furs are thick, and blanket her from the biting cold.

She thinks to pray for the ability to forgive Ned, but what she actually prays for is her own forgiveness.

She prays to the Mother, to the Maiden too, and once more, to the Crone. She’s not sure who will respond to her pleas. She wonders which of them would touch Jon, which of them might soften his heart. She knows that emotions are usually considered the domain of the Mother, but would he be touched by her, when the woman who acted as his own mother had been so cold?

She’s been out for maybe an hour or two when her peace is interrupted by Arya.

“Sorry Mother, there’s a letter come for you- it’s from Aunt Lysa.”

Oh dear, she thinks, this can’t be good news. Sansa had been rather light on the details about Lysa, but none suggested that Catelyn’s sister is doing well at all.

 Over the Wall

The weirwoods all speak the language, and their roots go deep. Rowan teaches Jon, that they all speak to each other, in their own way.

“Despite this, there is still the effect of distance. A voice spoken on one end of the continent will reach a voice on the other, but it may not be true in strength.”

“So if I ask one if another one…”

“You will get an answer, but it may not be as complete or accurate as if you asked one right here.”

The trees of the far flung north are screaming. The night king is gathering his army. The trees don’t call him that, the name they call him doesn’t translate well. All of the dead, are to the trees ‘other’, and their king is THE other, the great one. The trees don’t know what he’s doing.

“He’s trying to get past the wall,” Ygritte tells him, “Same as us.”

Jon spares a glance to Rowan. She had told him before that after joining with Gilly and the others, their group had sought out and destroyed a horn that Mance Ryder and his men had been seeking, believing it to be the legendary horn of winter, which could bring down the wall.

“That does seem likely,” she concedes, “Seeing as the others are aiming to bring about a winter that will never end, that they would seek the other sides of the continent.”

“They can’t get over the wall,” Jon says, with firmness, “The stories are always that there were enchantments upon it. And whether or not that’s true-”

Rowan chuckles to herself, and Jon rolls his eyes. All the things she has shown him and he stills feels the urge to doubt any words speaking of magic.

Some time later, Jon asks her.

“My brother Bran...he said that the raven never finished teaching him because they were forced to flee this cave.”

Rowan nods.

“The night king touched your brother while he was in a vision. Because of this, he could find your brother, could pursue him wherever he went. That was how he found this place.”

Her eyes turn faraway, in a way they often do when speaking of her fallen brothers and sisters.

“I have often questioned why Brynden Rivers seemed to not think it worthwhile to explain to him the reasons for the rules he gave your brother, and their importance. That he would just take him at his word and not question.”

Like they had said before, Jon thought, Bran was young. Might be he might not have even listened. Anyone who had ever had any sort of interaction with children should have known better.

He breaches the subject he’s been thinking on for much of the time in this cave.

“Rowan...do you think you are really the last child of the forest? Like, there is no one else in the world- I mean, I don’t imagine your kind could have children with humans, but there are giants and other types…”

Rowan lets her eyes fall upon the ground, her ears drooping.

“No. Even if I were still in my child bearing years...Even if I tried, I will be the last. I may die in the battle that is coming, I may live another hundred years...but I will be the last.”

There is pain in her words, pain that cuts Jon deeply.

“My sister had a child,” she continues, “A young son. I haven’t seen either of them...they are gone now of course.”

Later in the day, while they have paused their lessons, Jon takes Ygritte aside. Rowan is helping the others mix some of the green moss into a thin broth they’d made of the bones of a hare Ygritte had caught earlier that week.

“Can you come with me to the weirwood? I’d rather not do this with Rowan around.”

She looks at him curiously, opening her mouth as though she wants to mock, but holds it in.

She lets some of it out during the walk. The rest of the time, she talks about what the other wildlings had been planning to do to get past the wall themselves.

“Really? You were going to try and climb it? You’re mad, the lot of you.”

“We’d have done it too.”

She wrinkles her nose, deep in thought.

“We would have gone over it, I wonder if anyone’s ever tried to tunnel under it.”

That gives Jon pause.

“That...would take a great deal of effort and work. Don’t think you could do it without being noticed.”

Ygritte shrugs.

“Guess we ought to be glad that the dead aren’t strong as giants.”

They reach the weirwood, and Jon sits by its side, Ygritte off on the other end of the cave opening, trying not to stare.

He asks the tree of his home, of Winterfell.

The words he gets back are immediate, they are coming from Winterfell now, not past. To his surprise, the first thing it speaks of is Lady Catelyn. Jon knew she was a very devout follower of the Seven, and he had never seen her in the Godswood. Yet, she is still there to pray. The fine lines on her face are deeper now, and Jon is suddenly hit with the realization that his siblings must have told her about their past lives too.

To Jon’s shock, the feeling he is overcome with from the trees words is her guilt. She is both praying for serenity in her own heart, to be able to let go of her anger, and for someone else to let go of their own. Her prayers are softly spoken aloud, but the trees can read her face as easily as Jon would read a book.

With a rush, he realizes she is thinking of him. He is quiet when they return to the camp, even when Ygritte tried to rile him up by pulling his curls straight and letting them go.

“Tree got your tongue?” she asks.

He cranes his head over his shoulder to look at her.

“Have you ever had someone treat you unfairly for so long that it actually threw you that they might feel guilty about it?”

Ygritte furrows her brow.

“Who did you asks that tree about?”

“I asked it to show me my home, and it showed me...Lady Catelyn, my father’s wife.”

“Your father’s-”

“I grew up a bastard, and she never once let me forget it.”

“That’s not very motherly,” Ygritte admits, “Though I guess I can sort of see her perspective. You southerners basically blame women for the smallest of weaknesses and yet expect them to forgive men of all of them. Maybe it just finally hit her that you weren’t at fault.”

Jon pulls his knees up to his chest.

“But why couldn’t she have seen that when I was still at Winterfell?”

Ygritte leans over and rubs the tip of her nose softly against a soft spot she’d found behind his ear.

“Jon Snow, you’re a man grown now. Don’t trouble yourself by the thoughts of someone so far away. If she wants you to forgive her, she can ask when she sees you again.”

Jon wraps an arm around her, taking her in, with her rough furs and crooked teeth.

“I wonder what Lady Catelyn would say if I tried to bring you home?”

“Probably some of that fainting you insist Southern women are so fond of doing.”

Jon’s dreams that night are troubled. They start with mostly memories, twisted ones, of Lady Catelyn’s scoldings and admonitions from his childhood. Her words, once just cold and stern, turn venomous and hateful. Then suddenly, her mouth becomes a black hole and Jon shakes himself awake.

Then his dreams shift to his last conversation with uncle Benjen before they had left for the wall. He sees his uncles face, and then it turns dark, cold, and twisted. His misshapen head tilts back, and he screams.

Jon wakes again, and lies there, Ygritte snoring an inch away, and hopes with all his heart that his dreams aren’t prophetic like people speak of.

[salems-varieties]

Anime for Halloween

I should have posted this before my movies list. But hell, It’s here now and Y’all can binge-watch over the next month. But little disclaimer. These are anime I have seen and ones I associate with Halloween because they have to do with something from the holiday. So anything with Vampires, witches, demons, etc. Anything I got a Halloween-y vibe from. This list is gonna be kind of long. Now time for me to suffer typing it and yall to get an idea from reading it. 

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Title

Synopsis

My thoughts on the Anime

Everything in bold is strictly my opinion. Agree to disagree with me, and put down your own opinion in repost or in the comments but be respectful. Rude or anything of the sort will be deleted or reported depending on the severity.

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07-Ghost

Teito Klein, a student at the academy, is one of the most promising soldiers produced. Although ridiculed by everyone for being a sklave (German for slave) with no memories of his past, he is befriended by a fellow student called Mikage. While preparing for the final exam, Teito uncovers a dark secret related to his past. When an attempt to assassinate Ayanami, a high-ranking official who killed his father, fails, Teito is locked away awaiting punishment.

This one is religious, HOWEVER, Demons and the Gods of Death kinda make it more Halloween-y so :p Also as a side note; It’s only subbed so all y’all who prefer dub are gonna be disappointed.

Ancient Magus Bride

Chise Hatori, a 15-year-old Japanese girl, was sold for five million pounds at an auction to a tall masked gentleman. Abandoned at a young age and ridiculed by her peers for her unconventional behavior, she was ready to give herself to any buyer if it meant having a place to go home to. In chains and on her way to an unknown fate, she hears whispers from robed men along her path, gossiping and complaining that such a buyer got his hands on a rare "Sleigh Beggy." Ignoring the murmurs, the mysterious man leads the girl to a study, where he reveals himself to be Elias Ainsworth—a magus. After a brief confrontation and a bit of teleportation magic, the two open their eyes to Elias' picturesque cottage in rural England. Greeted by fairies and surrounded by weird and wonderful beings upon her arrival, these events mark the beginning of Chise's story as the apprentice and supposed bride of the ancient magus.

I love this one so much. My only issue is what would have made it more Halloween inspired would have been if they’s gone through Samhain and not skipped straight to Yule. BUT monsters, mages, witches, alchemists, and fae make this anime perfect for magic inspire Halloween watch.

Another

In 1972, a popular student in Yomiyama North Middle School's class 3-3 named Misaki passed away during the school year. Since then, the town of Yomiyama has been shrouded by a fearful atmosphere, from the dark secrets hidden deep within.

Horror, horror, horror and gore. Enjoy this with friends and family who have a strong stomach and are old enough to not get scared. The deaths are absolutely horrific and it takes place all around a middle school class. (Read the novel, of the same name, it’s based off if you dare)

Ao no Exorcist

Humans and demons are two sides of the same coin, as are Assiah and Gehenna, their respective worlds. The only way to travel between the realms is by the means of possession, like in ghost stories. However, Satan, the ruler of Gehenna, cannot find a suitable host to possess and therefore, remains imprisoned in his world. In a desperate attempt to conquer Assiah, he sends his son instead, intending for him to eventually grow into a vessel capable of possession by the demon king.

Anyone who’s been around anime long enough knows or knows of this anime. Who wouldn’t have added this into their Halloween Anime list? It has to do with Demons and the Son of Satan.

Black Butler  

Young Ciel Phantomhive is known as "the Queen's Guard Dog," taking care of the many unsettling events that occur in Victorian England for Her Majesty. Aided by Sebastian Michaelis, his loyal butler with seemingly inhuman abilities, Ciel uses whatever means necessary to get the job done. But is there more to this black-clad butler than meets the eye?

Classic as well. Don’t forget the movies and season 3. We don’t speak of season 2 0.0″ Also the manga has taken a VERY dark turn as of recent so if you’re looking for reading material, there you go.

Blood-C 

Peaceful schoolgirl by day, fearsome monster slayer by night, Saya Kisaragi is leading a split life. Equipped with a ceremonial sword given to her by her father for sacred tasks, she vanquishes every monster who dares threaten her quiet little village. But all too soon, Saya's reality and everything she believes to be true is tested, when she overhears the monsters speak of a broken covenant—something she knows nothing about. And then, unexpectedly, a strange dog appears; it asks her to whom she promised to protect the village, curious as to what would happen if she were to break that promise. Tormented by unexplainable visions and her world unraveling around her, we travel with Saya through her struggle to find a way to the truth in a village where nothing is as it seems.

Another very gory anime. Children, please do avoid.

Bloodivores

60 years ago, a strange case of insomnia struck the population, forcing them to stay awake for more than a full week. The victims, completely sleep deprived, all went mad. To cure this illness, a new medicine was produced, but the side effects turned the patients into vampires. Humanity went to war against this new species and triumphed, but some of the vampires managed to survive. Born from a Human and a Vampire, the main character Mi Liu, "The Child of Hope," is to represent the new hope that will connect the two species. Ringleader of a bank robbery, Mi Liu is arrested and transferred to a special prison of the National Defense Agency that monitors Vampires.

Genetically created vampires. Need I say more?

Blood Lad

Staz Charlie Blood is a powerful vampire who rules the Eastern district of Demon World. According to rumors, he is a bloodthirsty and merciless monster, but in reality, Staz is just an otaku obsessed with Japanese culture and completely uninterested in human blood. Leaving the management of his territory to his underlings, Staz spends his days lazing around, indulging in anime, manga, and games.

A vampire otaku... Thank you, this is exactly what I needed. 

D.Gray-Man

Losing a loved one is so painful that one may sometimes wish to be able to resurrect them—a weakness that the enigmatic Millennium Earl exploits. To make his mechanical weapons known as "Akuma," he uses the souls of the dead that are called back. Once a soul is placed in an Akuma, it is trapped forever, and the only way to save them is to exorcise them from their vessel using the Anti-Akuma weapon, "Innocence."

*Piece of advice. D. Gray-Man the first series was not finished in Dub if you’re one who prefers Dub. So heading into D. Gray-Man Hollow, you’ll be confused as hell. It’s best to just watch Sub so you don’t have to worry about missing a huge chunk of info. 

But if you like anime about demons and exorcists there’s more than just Blue Exorcist. This one I suggest because it’s phenomenal, but that’s personal opinion XD

Dance with Devils

Ritsuka Tachibana has always been a good student, so she is completely shocked when she is suddenly summoned by the student council. Even more, they seem to think of Ritsuka as a troublemaker. Led by the handsome Rem Kaginuki, the student council—also consisting of Urie Sogami, Shiki Natsumizaka, and Mage Nanashiro—tries to question her, but it soon becomes clear that they have ulterior motives.

This is one based off an Otome (Dating game) so try YT for gameplay if you wanna see the whole story. Yet another about demons and exorcists, but this time there are vampires and Cerberus added to the mix. Plus for those who know-how Otome heroines are basically pushovers, this one has a strong-willed girl as our protagonist. Thank you, Ritsuka for breaking the mold T/\T

Diabolik Lovers

At the behest of her father, Yui Komori goes to live in a secluded mansion, home to the six Sakamaki brothers—Shuu, Reiji, Ayato, Kanato, Laito, and Subaru—a family of vampires. Though at first the siblings are confused as to why the girl has arrived, they soon realize that she is to be their new "sacrificial bride," not to mention their other, more carnal intentions for her. After meeting the brothers, Yui quickly begins to question why her father would have sent her here and why she feels a strange, new pain in her chest. With each brother more sadistic than the last, Yui's life as a captive takes a harrowing turn in her new home. As her days turn into endless nights, and each brother vows to make her his own, Yui falls deeper and deeper into madness and ecstasy.

Otome with like 4? games, try YT for gameplay. I’m a little sad that it only has two seasons and the episodes are like 13-15 minutes long. Still, if you like Otome based games, you’ve most likely seen this. DO NOT EXPECT VANILLA ROMANCE. THIS IS NOT A FUN RIDE IF YOU EXPECT THAT.

Death Note

A shinigami, as a god of death, can kill any person—provided they see their victim's face and write their victim's name in a notebook called a Death Note. One day, Ryuk, bored by the shinigami lifestyle and interested in seeing how a human would use a Death Note, drops one into the human realm.

Classic... But not my personal cup of tea. I added it because it’s a salute to one of my dear friends.

Little Witch Academia

"A believing heart is your magic!"—these were the words that Atsuko "Akko" Kagari's idol, the renowned witch Shiny Chariot, said to her during a magic performance years ago. Since then, Akko has lived by these words and aspired to be a witch just like Shiny Chariot, one that can make people smile. Hence, even her non-magical background does not stop her from enrolling in Luna Nova Magical Academy.

This one is just cute and intense. Witches are starting to die out but one girl wants desperately to be a witch like her idol was. I love how this brings in witchy elements and some fairy tale elements.

Makai Ouji: Devils and Realist

The story revolves around William, an aristocratic family's progeny with rare intellect. One day, his uncle lost his possessions after his business failed. Fearing that his family's name has been tarnished, William returns home and searches with his family's butler for anything that can be converted into cash. A search of the premises yields an underground room left by an ancestor. In the room is a magical seal, and William unintentionally summons a devil. The summoned devil tells William his name Dantalion and reveals that William is the designator who can choose the acting ruler of the demon world.

If realists were like William, I think the world would be on fire. The poor people that have to deal with him. At least most of them are demons, maybe that will knock his head into gear... right?

Miira No Kaikata 

High school student Sora Kashiwagi is accustomed to receiving bizarre presents from his father, who is on an expedition around the world. Unfortunately, these gifts have been nothing but nightmares. As a result, when his father sends him a huge package from Egypt, Sora prepares himself for the worst, only to be greeted by Mii-kun—a cute, pint-sized mummy! While initially wary, Sora soon learns that Mii-kun is harmless, a delicate creature yearning for attention.

I can understand people who don’t like horror or gore. I was there once. So here’s a cute anime about a boy and his pet mummy. Sanrio really did a great job turning the manga, which was darker than the anime, into something so cute and so wholesome.

Mirai Nikki

Lonely high school student, Yukiteru Amano, spends his days writing a diary on his cellphone while conversing with his two seemingly imaginary friends Deus Ex Machina, who is the god of time and space, and Murmur, the god's servant. Revealing himself to be an actual entity, Deus grants Yukiteru a "Random Diary," which shows highly descriptive entries based on the future and forces him into a bloody battle royale with 11 other holders of similarly powerful future diaries.

I have no word on this.

Owari no Seraph

With the appearance of a mysterious virus that kills everyone above the age of 13, mankind becomes enslaved by previously hidden, power-hungry vampires who emerge in order to subjugate society with the promise of protecting the survivors, in exchange for donations of their blood.

The Apocolypse starts and vampires rule the world. I dunno if that sounds like heaven or hell for me? But in this world, it would certainly be hell. Vampires rule the world but that doesn't mean the humans are gone. An army rises to protect what’s left from the bloodsuckers. And did I mention demons? Along with the concept of corrupt angels? Oh yeah, that’s gotta be hell on earth.

Pandora Hearts

To young Oz Vessalius, heir to the Vessalius Duke House, the perilous world called the Abyss is nothing more than a folktale used to scare misbehaving children. However, when Oz's coming-of-age ceremony is interrupted by the malicious Baskerville Clan intent on banishing him into the depths of the Abyss, the Vessalius heir realizes that his peaceful life of luxury is at its end. Now, he must confront the world of the Abyss and its dwellers, the monstrous "Chains," which are both not quite as fake as he once believed.

I couldn't have found a better gif for this anime. It’s Alice in Wonderland inspired but with a much darker twist than what Disney gave us (and yes I do mean both the original and the Tim Burton version). Enjoy this one because it’s not all dark there is humor to break up the heart-wrenching. But don’t expect it to always be comical. 

Phantom in the Twilight

Set in modern-day London, the story takes place in a world where "Shadows" are born from human fear and anxiety. A young girl arrives to study abroad, only to be caught in a bizarre incident as she enters university. In a city with no acquaintances, the helpless girl wanders into "Café Forbidden," a mysterious café that exclusively opens at midnight. She meets an assortment of handsome men employed at the café, where guardians who protect the boundary between humans and shadow convene

Vampires, werewolves, ghosts, and even demons; this one would be great for Halloween. I will admit though, it’s lackluster considering these guys are supposed to be Dracula, the Wolfman, and so on. It might be someone’s cup of tea, just not everyone’s 

Rosario to Vampire

Youkai Academy is a seemingly normal boarding school, except that its pupils are monsters learning to coexist with humans. All students attend in human form and take normal academic subjects, such as literature, gym, foreign language, and mathematics. However, there is one golden rule at Youkai Academy—all humans found on school grounds are to be executed immediately!

I couldn’t get through this one. I’m not gonna lie. It was basically light hentai and I’m not into that kinda stuff, but I feel like someone would have called me out for it not being here so T-T

Servamp 

Mahiru Shirota firmly believes that simple is best and troublesome things should be avoided at all costs. It is troublesome to do nothing and regret it later—and this ideology has led the 15-year-old to pick up a stray cat on his way home from school. As he affectionately names the feline Kuro, little does he know that this chance meeting will spark an extraordinary change in his everyday life.

I’m gonna be completely honest, the manga was better. I love the anime don’t get me wrong. I’ve rewatched it many times. But it cut out so much from the manga. So as an anime, watch it first before reading the manga, then go back and nitpick. If you do it the other way around you may be more disappointed.

Soul Eater

Death City is home to the famous Death Weapon Meister Academy, a technical academy headed by the Shinigami—Lord Death himself. Its mission: to raise "Death Scythes" for the Shinigami to wield against the many evils of their fantastical world. These Death Scythes, however, are not made from physical weapons; rather, they are born from human hybrids who have the ability to transform their bodies into Demon Weapons, and only after they have consumed the souls of 99 evil beings and one witch's soul. This one is perfect for Halloween with it’s dark but funny themes. If you prefer the cutesier stuff like I do sometimes try Soul Eater NOT! The concept of soul-eating monsters and a school that teaches teens to fight and destroy them, A+ content. Plus some of those teens turn into actual weapons. Where is my sign up sheet? I would gladly take that over normal boring high school. Also add the grim reaper into the mix then give him a funny voice and disposition. Gold I tell ya.

Togainu no Chi

In the wake of a third world war that left Japan in ruins, an organization known as Vischio seized control of Tokyo and renamed it Toshima. Taking place in its back alleys are battle games known as Igura, overseen by the Vischio, in which contestants battle and bathe in each other's blood to earn the chance to go up against its tournament's king, Il-re.

This one is for all my lovely fujoshi/fudanshi peoples. It’s a dark anime and based off a rated M, BL Otome. Sinners welcome.

Tokyo Ghoul

Tokyo has become a cruel and merciless city—a place where vicious creatures called “ghouls” exist alongside humans. The citizens of this once great metropolis live in constant fear of these bloodthirsty savages and their thirst for human flesh. However, the greatest threat these ghouls pose is their dangerous ability to masquerade as humans and blend in with society.

This one is mainstream for a reason. It’s a good story, anime or manga. Mainly manga. Anyway, I haven’t seen Re yet, but I’ve heard it’s sheit. Still gonna watch it though cause why the hell not.

Uragiri wa Boku no Namae wo Shitteiru

Growing up as an orphan, Yuki Sakurai questions his reason for living and the ability to see a person's painful memory by simply touching them. After receiving anonymous notes telling him to die, Yuki is unable to shake off the nagging feeling forming inside of him. Unbeknownst to him, he is being watched, both by people who want to harm him and those who want to protect him.

Reincarnation from a girl to a boy and the girl had a hot lover that is now with her male reincarnation. And the lover is a vampire. Man, that’s confusing but the story is good. I have yet to read the manga. The anime was great from what I can remember, so give it a shot. It’s another BL anime, so proceed with caution.

Vampire Knight

Cross Academy is an elite boarding school with two separate, isolated classes: the Day Class and the Night Class. On the surface, Yuuki Cross and Zero Kiryuu are prefects of the academy and attempt to keep order between the students as classes rotate in the evenings. As the Night Class is full of utterly gorgeous elites, this can sometimes prove to be a bit difficult. It is completely necessary, however, as those "elites" are actually vampires. Yuuki and Zero act as guardians, protecting the secrets of the Night Class and the safety of their ignorant morning counterparts.

If twilight was an anime, but Bella and Edward were siblings and Jacob was another vampire. This is not a great anime but let's face it, some of us watched it as preteens, enjoyed it, and were head over heels for Zero and/or Kaname. It’s a trash anime, but great for those who are 21 and over. Do I hear drinking games, anyone?

All synopsis came from My Anime List (where the links take you). Also, I’m sorry it’s a lot to read, I just didn’t want to cut them down. Feel free to add what you think should have been on here, or what you think is a Halloween favorite on reposts. Comments are welcome and have a happy spooky season!

[tigereye771]

The Fates

Just a drabble about what happens after S8.

Queen of Ashes or the Mad Queen were some of the more innocuous names they gave her.  Daenerys who so loved having her meaningless and ultimately false titles listed upon introductions was given much less kinder names by the people of Westeros.  Queen of Murderers. Slaughterer of Innocents. The Burner of Children.  It was not unforeseen that the people, particularly the small folk, would not have kind memories of the woman who had burnt down a city and murdered thousands.

And her former allies did not escape the consequences.  It was foolish of the Unsullied to think that there would be no consequences to the murderous rampage they took part of five years ago.  They had been the first to fall.  Afterall, the relatives of the ones they had just freshly slaughtered were the same people they expected and relied on to fill their boats for their long voyage with supplies.  All it took was a smear of blood here, a trace of excrement there in the foodstuff and the heralded Unsullied warriors found themselves on their knees, dying by the dozen out in the middle of the sea until their boats became ghost ships, floating unmanned until they were taken by storms or rocks and sank to the bottom of the ocean.

The Dorothki did not fare much better.  In some ways, the few that remained in Westeros, were easy to take care of as there was not much anyone needed to do.  Unused to the climate and illnesses in this country, they quickly sickened and died and in a few moons after they had set sail, only a few were left and little cause for concern.

Out of Daenerys former allies, it was one who’s association with one of her allies that fell first.  Many had questioned King Bran the Broken’s choices for his small council. What was the reasoning to appoint a former sellsword like Bronn as Master of Coin?  It wasn’t Bran’s choice, but his Hand’s selection, fulfilling an obligation and hoping to secure one ally in a city that hated him.  However, the prominence of Bronn’s role likely marked him early for reprisal. Many viewed the Lannister, particularly Tyrion Lannister who helped bring the Queen of Ashes to their shore, with undisguised hatred.  Friends of his weren’t viewed with kind eyes.  But unlike Tyrion who knew he was hated and kept close to the Red Keep over concerns of his safety, Bronn thought he was not in jeopardy.  He was wrong and the knife in his gut after visiting one of the makeshift brothels set up made the last Lannister even more paranoid of his own safety.

A representative of Dorne became the next Master of Coin.  People had not forgotten Dorne was once an ally of Daenerys Targaryen as well, but the new prince had wisely distanced himself from that association, noting it was Ellaria Sand who had made the alliance, and became a stalwart supporter of the new monarch.  The new Master of Coin proved to be a wise and judicious official and the Six Kingdoms benefited greatly from his appointment.

Yara Greyjoy, blindly and foolishly still loyal for whatever reason to Daenerys’ memory attempted to attack the North in reprisal for Jon Snow’s actions.  They were easily repelled by the Northern ships, one in particular with a direwolf as its figurehead.  That ship had rammed Yara’s own and her men were quickly overwhelmed.  Yara herself was killed in that fight, by a small, quick figure.  Her death created a momentary power vacuum in the Iron Islands, but a cousin eventually won out. This cousin was more savvy and less blinded and worked with both King Bran and Queen Sansa and soon found a way to make the Iron Islands prosperous without attacking and pillaging: they simply were some of the best sailors. As trade with other countries opened up the Ironborn found their services for shipping in great demand and as for potential pirates, they learned to steer clear of ships with Kraken sigil.

After two years on Bran’s council, Davos found himself back in the North.  It was more for his safety and sanity than anything.  While he managed to get the fleet back into shape, he found himself, while not hated as much as Tyrion, still tainted by his association with the Dragon Queen.  He was among those who participated in the destruction of Kings Landing.  His actions to try to help people was disregarded or scoffed at by most.  Afterall, small actions of one pale in comparison to the enormous horror inflicted on the people.  He found he could not traverse freely in the streets and always had to travel with armed guards. An attempt on his life, a knife attack that left him with a wound to his shoulder and weeks of recovery, convinced him he should resign his post and perhaps partake himself to more friendly territory.

Bran accepted his resignation gracefully and sent Davos to be with Sansa who allowed him to assist her own Master of Ships.  While the Northerners regarded him suspiciously, not forgetting how he had helped bring the Dragon Queen to their land and offering praise of her “kindness” in the beginning, they at least did not try to assassinate him.  So Davos fell into comfortable existence, if a much less grand one.

And what of Tyrion Lannister? The former Hand of the Burner of Children?  Many were appalled by King Bran’s choice of Hand, but as the young Stark said, he would be spending his time making up for all of the destruction caused not only by his assistance to Daenerys, but the reign of the Lannisters as well.  Tyrion found himself working long and hard hours, trying to rebuild the city and meet the needs of the people.  There was nothing else he could do.  If he showed his face outside of the Red Keep he would undoubtedly meet the same fate as Bronn, if not worse. He dared not even bring any women in to entertain him, uncertain if they would try to kill him.  He grew suspect of his wine, wondering if it was poisoned.  When he complained about his fears to King Bran, the young monarch had simply replied,

“Then you much do more to show that you are trying to set right all the wrong you had done in the past.”

“I wonder if you want to get me killed,” was Tyrion’s bitter reply.

“All of our fates have been set.  We can only let them play out.”

“And is my fate to be murdered in my bed or at a council meeting?” Tyrion sneered.

“For now, your fate is to figure out the sewage system for Flea Bottom.”

On this went for five years as Tyrion grew increasingly paranoid, but the country began to recover. But did he get the credit for this? No, he grew even more bitter as the people began to hail King Bran for his clever ideas and helping and relieving the suffering of the people. And then, just before the fifth anniversary of the burning of Kings Landing that Tyrion made his last and most fatal mistake. As preparations were being made to recognize the tragedy, Tyrion, in a drunken stupor decided to visit some of the memorials that had been erected over the years to the ones killed.  He was found the next morning, beside one such statute, the one of a mother trying to shelter her child.  His face and body was twisted into awful contortions as some great pain had wracked through him before he drew his last breath.  However, no maester could find a cause and thus no search was made for his killer.  If there ever was one.

And what of Jon Snow who was exiled to the Wall?  He was not welcomed in the South.  While recognizing he had ended the reign of terror of the Dragon Queen, like Davos, he had participated in its destruction by nature of commanding some of her troops. It was also not lost of them that he had been her lover and loudly and frequently proclaimed her his queen.  No, they did not want him in the South, but they did not much care about his fate either.  As long as he never left the North nor held any position of power, they were happy to forget about Jon Snow.

And thus, King Bran was able to quietly pardon Jon five years after the destruction of King’s Landing. The memories had not faded and it would be generations before the horrors would become a distant memory, but as long as Jon stayed out of the Six Kingdoms, the South would not care.  They would give him that peace in exchange for ending the Burner of Children.

So with this pardon in hand and the one Queen Sansa had given him months after his banishment, Jon Snow made his way out of from the far North towards Winterfell.  When he arrived, he knelt before Queen Sansa, the Queen Who Never Bent, offering her his sword and allegiance which she accepted and he was made head of her Queensguard.  The North too regarded him with some suspicion.  They had not forgotten he was the King Who Bent the Knee and brought a murderous tyrant into their homeland, but they also, quietly and shamefacedly recalled that some of their own Northernmen, some of their kin, were among the murdering savages that dark day in Kings Landing, or were reminded of that, and quickly kept their comments to themselves.

That first year was not easy on Jon as he re-adapted to life in Winterfell, but the routine helped. It wasn’t until he was there almost a year that he was finally welcomed back as a Northern son.  The Queen had been out visiting some of the farms who had adapted some new techniques to help with increased crops.  As always, she was accompanied by her Queensguard when they were suddenly attacked by a band of brigands made up by outlaws and even three Dorothki.  The Queensguard were outnumbered, and one attacker got close enough to the queen to pull her from her horse.  Instead of dragging her onto his own horse, the queen had fallen to the ground and it appeared as if a horse had trampled her.  As some who were there will tell the story later, this sent Jon Snow into a frenzy. He alone began to cut down attacker after attacker, trying to get to the queen who laid still on the ground. As the bodies of the brigands laid strewn and covered in blood, he had dropped to his knees beside the queen and uttered in a voice that was the epitome of anguish,

“Sansa…”

She was unconscious and her party rode quickly back to Winterfell, Jon Snow cradling her in his arms. He haunted the hallway outside her door as the maester saw to her injuries, the blood of the men who attacked them drying on his hands and clothes.  Soon the door opened and the maester came out to give Jon and members of her council assembled news of her condition.

“Just a little bump on her head and sprained wrist,” the maester had said cheerfully.  “She should rest today and tomorrow, maybe even the next day.  She’ll definitely not be doing any writing for at least two weeks as she rests that wrist.” He gave them all a nod and waddled off.

Her council members had sighed in relief and left Jon standing in the hallway staring the Sansa’s chamber door.  Later, her handmaiden would say that she came out to ask Ser Jon to go in and see the queen as she had asked for him.  No one knew exactly what transpired between them but they noticed a shift in their relationship. A growing closeness and an even more protective fierceness within Jon. Soon There were whispers about the Queen and the captain of her Queensguard, but the Northerners had no issue. Had he not shown his loyalty to their queen?  Issues any Northerners had with Jon began to fade.

So it was no surprise a year later when Bran received a raven inviting him to the wedding of Queen Sansa and Jon Snow.  He would be her consort and take the name of “Stark.”  He would hold no titles or position.  He would simply be her husband, the father of her children and the man who would protect her with every ounce of his being.

Bran laid down the scroll with the invitation on it and looked up as Samwell Tarly regarded him closely.

“Did you know it would play out this way?” Sam asked curiously.  “That things would right themselves in a few years?”

Bran gave him for what passed as a smile for him and repeated the words he had said to Tyrion a few years ago, “All of our fates have been set.  We can only let them play out.”

[werewolves-are-real]

Do you have a full list of your AU ideas? (You shared some of them in 2016). Cuz I wouldn't mind having a stab at some of them myself.

Sure! People are *welcome* to use any of my ideas, ha. We need more fic.

My list is kind of a Mess, but here’s most of the summaries (with categories!)

Magic AUs

1. Dragons think it very unfair thathumans die so early. Celestials unconsciously take steps to preventthis.**

2. Laurence has always been able to talkto the ghosts; the sea is an escape, where spirits are rare andfleeting in the wide ocean. But now he is in Dover, with a Celestialdragon that might have his own magic, and the dead keep rising.

3. Temeraire is lucky. Laurence sometimessees this as more of a curse than a boon.

4. Laurence dies. Temeraire, in mourning,has charge of a newly-lain dragon egg and starts telling it storiesof his old captain.

(***based on the Tswana ideas of dragon reincarnation)

Canon-divergence AUs

1. AU book 9: The English government isplanning to poison every wild dragon and Laurence learns of a plot tosteal the throne from Bonaparte and give it to his wife, Anaharque.It’s a tipping point. (Laurence/Napoleon)**

2. In 1796 William Laurence is lost on the coast of Japan. Stricken with amnesia, he accidentally saves a visiting Chinese prince from assassination and accompanies him to China.

3. Laurence accidentally becomes the captain of a rare fire-breather. Years later, John Granby becomes captain of a Chinese Celestial.

It’s the first time in history that two captain have traded dragons.

4. In which the first meeting of Laurenceand Napoleon is not quite Respectable, and some things are omittedfrom the history books. 

5. Amnesia fic. An amnesiac WilliamLaurence reluctantly departs from Nagasaki on an American vessel –which happens to be headed to France. Once there he’s spotted by aWhite Celestial dragon who seems to know him, and he never does quitemanage to make it back to England… **

6. This is not treason. The king was ill.Laurence only meant to help. It is only unfortunate that the nearestmedic was…

 “You have just literally placed theEnglish Crown into French hands,” Tharkay says. “For being soadamant about not being a traitor, Laurence, you are an appallinglygood one.”

7. After the Reliant fallsto the Amitie as aprize, the imprisoned officers settle in for a long, miserable trip to France.Until, one day given liberty of the deck, Laurence stumbles across a namelessblack dragon escaped from the hold who is very interested in whathe’s doing aboard.

8. AU where there isno sickness and no treason. Laurence’s parents start pestering him tofind a wife and settle down, Temeraire is jealous, and Jane offersher ‘services’ (in multiple ways). 

“Oh, no, that is not what Imeant at all,” she says when he stares at her with eyes the size ofdinner-plates. “Of course we cannot marry, what a ridiculous notion– but we can pretend to be considering it for the sake of yourfolks. We can discuss children later,” she adds, as though just toincrease his suffering.**

9.  In1804 the Amitie isshipwrecked and a prize dragon egg, meant for the Emperor of Francehimself, is lost. In 1806 William Laurence – no longer Captain ofthe Reliant and now anexile from the French-conquered remnants of Britain – makes his wayto the Canary islands and hears rumors of the monster of El Hierro.**

10. After giving the Cure to France,Laurence and Temeraire are forced to take refuge in China. WhenEngland falls to Napoleon they expect to stay there indefinitely, butthen Napoleon sends word that he is dividing Britain into threeprincedoms.

In return for a alliance with China he will agree to havePrince William Laurence – who is, after all, a distant descendantof the native Plantagenet kings – rule the remainder of England.

And it seems he can’t protest, becauseChina is thrilled to accept on his behalf.

11. Laurence and Temeraire are capturedleaving Danzig. Napoleon takes a special interest in the captain thattook his Celestial. Laurence resists. 

Then the dragons start dying. All of them.**

12. Temeraire is identified as a Celestialas soon as his ruffs sprout and sails to China. By the time he andLaurence return, the Invasion of Dover has succeeded; Napoleon ismaster of England, and he requests a special counsel with the newPrince of China.

“Do not grieve so, Laurence,”Temeraire says. “I am very sorry the war was lost, but it is hardlyas though we could have changed England’s fate had we remainedbehind.”

13. AdmiralCroft decides that there is no use in a naval-aviator and ahalf-mutinous black dragon from China – much less one that all theChinese men in harbor are kicking up such a fuss over. Best to getrid of him quickly and quietly, and deny it later; best to 'put down’Temeraire, and say he never existed. Laurencesneaks Temeraire away by ship; he doesn’t expect the storm that makestheir little merchanter call for aid. He doesn’t expect a French vesselto answer.

14. The Tswana really, really want Laurence to talk.

15. Laurence is injured in town. Temeraire overreacts and subsequently convinces every other dragon in England to start overreacting too. Laurence keeps reading to Temeraire in their downtime as a distraction.

Maybe you shouldn’t have read him so many books about toppling governments, Laurence. That wasn’t a great idea.***

Pre-Series

1. Captain Little, nervous about beingchosen as Immortalis’ new captain, befriends an equally anxiouslieutenant of Fluitare.

2. When William Laurence runs away to join the navy,scrambling up the Dionysus’ scuffedladder and hoping no one asks when he was assigned, England is not at war.**

The ones with asterisks at the end I’m already writing - among many, many other fics - but I’d always like to see other people’s takes too! Happy writing

[feelingfredly]

Burning Hearts and Burning Souls a.k.a Shiba Fever

For days his skin had felt like it didn’t fit right—too tight and too loose, sunburnt, and freezing all at the same time.

“I am sorry, Ichigo, but I cannot find anything wrong with your human body. Even your iron levels are good, and you know how we had to fight that with iron pills after you hit puberty and had that first growth spurt. You were constipated for months…”

Ichigo pulled his shirt closed as his father dropped his stethoscope.

“I thought we’d agreed never to discuss that again.” He growled the words out over Isshin’s embarrassing catalog of his childhood illnesses. “You’re sure I don’t have a fever?” He rubbed his hand over his forehead. It didn’t feel hot, but every other symptom just screamed fever.

“Ah my son, I know you have very little faith in my abilities as a physician…” the drama king was at it again, and Ichigo was tempted to add to the list of things about his father that he had little faith in, “but even I can take a temperature. Unless you’d prefer I try the rectal thermometer?”

Ichigo scooted back violently and held up his hands in defeat. “No, no that’s okay. I believe you. It’s not a fever. Not a fever.”

He slid off the exam table and finished putting his clothes back in order.

“Thanks for checking me out,” he said, sighing. “I just can’t figure out what’s wrong with me.”

Isshin hesitated a moment. “Well, I’ve taken several blood samples and sent them off for testing.  We will keep watching, and hopefully we’ll figure out what’s causing this discomfort sooner rather than later.

Ichigo nodded and grabbed his bag. He’d promised Chad they’d meet up at the gym.

“I’ll let you know if anything changes. I’m going to be over at Chad’s this afternoon. We may get dinner. I’ll call and let Yuzu know if I’m not going to be back in time to eat with you all.”

With that and a wave, he spun on his heel and headed out the door, into the sunlight.

Isshin reached for his phone and dialed a number he hated. “Kisuke? I think Ichigo has a problem.”

***

Ichigo pushed open the door to the boxing club. The smell of leather and rubber and sweat was strangely pleasant, and it was nice to hear the healthy sound of fighting without the accompanying panic of having to win or die.

“Hey Ichigo,” Chad called from the ring in the center of the room, and then lashed out in a sharp one-two punch, knocking his opponent off-balance. “Be there in a minute.”

He watched the big man square off against a smaller but much quicker opponent, and a wave of dizziness threatened to bring him to his knees. His skin was on fire, and swirling gray encroached on his view of the black and red ring.

 He’s fast.  Damn he’s fast.  STAND AND FIGHT LIKE A MAN! What’s he even doing here.  He isn’t Shiba. Looks like one of….

“Ichigo.” A deep voice called him back from the edge of unconsciousness, and then there was a cracking sound and the terrible smell of ammonia. “You with me, man? Come on, shake it off.  Take a deep breath. Yeah, that’s it.”

Ichigo grabbed his stomach trying to stop the bleeding, grab the black handled tachi that had sliced him in half, to keep his insides inside… but there was nothing there. No tachi. No blood. Just the ghost pain from the vision and the searing image of the face of the man who’d killed/not killed him.

Sweaty arms held him propped against a bare chest. Chad. Just Chad.

The bright lights hanging above him looked like multiple suns, each one surrounded by a halo of color that slowly faded as his vision came back to normal.

He sat up and the little trainer next to him pulled his eyelids back in a cursory examination.  He grunted and nodded to Chad. “Should be good. But he isn’t fighting today. I won’t clear him for the ring.”

Ichigo could feel Chad’s agreeing head shake as an earthquake through his chest. “That’s cool, Hoda-sensei. I’ll get him up and feed him. He forgets to eat sometimes.”

The trainer looked at Ichigo and the redhead shrugged and pushed himself. “Been fighting off an inner ear thing. My balance is all screwed up. Sorry for the trouble, Hoda-sensei.”

It looked like the little man was going to say something else, but a head shake from Chad stopped him and he looked between the two men a moment before coming to some decision.

“Okay, Kurosaki-kun, if you say so.  Have your dad look you over if it doesn’t get better, yeah?”  He looked at Chad. “You need to get your rub down and your shower. You’re going to lock up if you sit here and let your muscles get cold. Kurosaki-kun, you can sit in the locker room while Yasutora-kun finishes up. Now get going.”

He pulled Ichigo to his feet and watched as Chad rose smoothly behind him. “Next time, don’t just cold-cock your sparring partner when your friend goes down, Yasutora-kun. It’s hard enough to find someone willing to let you beat up on them regularly.”

Chad just rumbled something agreeable and the trainer made a frustrated sound. “Fine, fine…  locker room. Now.”

With that the little man wandered back to the ring-side and starting barking directions at another pair of fighters warming up.

“You good to walk, Ich?” Chad picked up his gloves from the floor where he’d apparently thrown them.

Ichigo rolled his head from side to side, but the swirling gray didn’t reappear. “Yeah, I think I’m good. The dizziness is gone at least.”

They made their way to the outside of the mats on the wrestling area floor and headed to the locker rooms in the back.

“What happened?” Chad asked.

Ichigo shook his head, still feeling a little discombobulated. “I don’t know. One minute I was watching you take on that little guy, and then the whole world got weird. The ring and the gym were gone, and I was outside with some little guy in black attacking me. He stabbed me in the stomach… it was… bad.”

“Bad, huh?” Chad didn’t say anything else. He didn’t have to. For Ichigo to say something was bad, it had to be really bad.

“Yeah.” Ichigo pulled a deep shuddery breath and pressed his hand again his abdomen. He could still feel his intestines, hot and slippery, as he tried and failed to hold them in. He could feel the blood dripping through his fingers. Hear the scream of someone else in the distance and see the satisfied face of his killer. “Bad.”

He pressed a hand to his own forehead, but even with the shocky feeling making his fingers cold, he didn’t feel any hotter than before. This was just crazy.

“You talk to your dad about the fever? You said you were going to.”

Chad had argued that he check in with Isshin for a while, ever since the sensitivity had started, but he’d refused until now.

“Yeah.” He sighed and followed Chad further into the locker room. “He can’t find anything wrong. No fever. Nothing obvious.  He did take some blood samples and is going to send them to the lab. If he doesn’t find anything there, I don’t know what I’m going to do. This is getting crazy.”

Chad splashed around for a few minutes before coming back out, towel slung low on his hips, and hair dripping long down his back.

“You scared me, Ich. Your face lost all its color. You were looking at something, but I couldn’t tell what.” Chad didn’t push, but Ichigo knew he would wait until he got an explanation.

“It’s like I told you before,” he said. “Different person this time, though. And I saw who killed me.”

Chad grunted and put a hang on Ichigo’s shoulder. “You didn’t tell your dad about that part, did you?”

Ichigo flushed a little and looked away. “If it turned out to just be a fever from some human disease, there was no point.  He wouldn’t need the details of my hallucinations to treat what’s causing them.”

Chad pulled his street clothes out and got dressed in silence. It comforted Ichigo to know that he would always be there, supportive and strong without feeling the need to manipulate. He didn’t put up with lies or shitty behavior, but he wasn’t a hypocrite about it, unlike most people Ichigo had worked with over the past few years.

“If the blood tests come back negative, you’re going to have to talk to him, you know.” Ichigo sighed and banged his head back against a metal locker, the sound a strangely appropriate punctuation to what he wanted to say to that. “I know.”

Chad pulled him into a loose embrace and patted his back. “You won’t have to face him alone, though. Promise.”

Ichigo pressed his forehead into the clean smelling corner of Chad’s neck and shoulder and breathed deeply. “Thanks.”

***

Kisuke flipped another page and frowned.

“And he hasn’t explained these to you?” Accusation laced his question and Isshin had the grace to look embarrassed.

“He doesn’t know I found them. You know I haven’t always been the most… attentive parent. I don’t think he ever expected me to notice.  But the drawing started about the same time he started complaining about feeling dizzy. Then the fever symptoms started, and he was drawing more and more. Last week he made the trip into Tokyo to pick up better pencils and a couple of sketch books.  He shoved these old notebooks into the drawer when he got those.”

Kisuke frowned. “You really shouldn’t have brought them to me without his permission. This is Personal Space Violation 101, Isshin-san. Plus, you don’t know for a fact that they’re connected to whatever this illness is. It could just be coincidental.”

Isshin reached out and snagged one of the spiral notebooks that Kisuke hadn’t gotten to yet.

“He’s getting better. The drawings look less like Rukia trying to make battle plans, and more like actual people.” He opened the slim book and flipped through a few pages before finding what he was looking for. He slid the open notebook back across the table.

Kisuke froze.

“Who told him about this?” he asked.

Isshin shook his head, “No one. It isn’t something that just comes up in dinner conversation, you know.”

Kisuke nodded faintly. It wouldn’t. The assassination of the children of a clan, dead before they could even begin to understand why they were targets, was something that couldn’t be forgotten, but couldn’t be treated lightly.

Ichigo had understood that.

The drawing was rough. Ichigo wasn’t trained, but that didn’t matter.  He’d caught the scene in its entirety. Bodies scattered in the darkness, the only light the flames rising behind them, but the buildings were unmistakably the Shiba compound. And there, scattered like abandoned toys, were six children that would never fulfill their potential as scions of the Shiba clan. They’d been pulled from their homes and schools and brought to the Shiba compound as a protective measure when it became clear that for whatever reason the Shiba were becoming targets for both violence and gossip.

The compound had become their killing ground.

“There were six children.” Kisuke said and Isshin nodded, unable to look at the picture on the table. He had been on assignment for the Gotei 13 when the killing happened, and he’d never forgiven himself for not being able to stop it.

“Six.” Kisuke was staring at the drawing. One long finger traced the outlines on the page and Isshin huffed.

“Yes, you morbid bastard. Six of them. The oldest was eleven. He was supposed to start at the Academy that year.”

Kisuke hummed. His finger trailed across the cheap lined paper, careful not to smudge the pencil lines, until it landed on what looked like a hand reaching out from the space outside the picture.  Reaching forever for the others lying across from it.

“There are five in this picture.” Kisuke tapped his finger on the outstretched hand. “And this is drawn from the perspective of the sixth. Like he watched it happen.”

Isshin looked at Kisuke and frowned. It made no sense.

“There’s no way for him to have seen it, Kisuke,” he said, “it happened almost fifty years ago.”

Kisuke slowly flipped more pages and shook his head. “Something is going on, Isshin-san, and if this is any indication, Kurosaki-san is right in the middle of it.”

Isshin sagged in his chair, the painful memories of his clan nothing compared to his worry for his son.

“Again.”

***

He’d fallen asleep between Chad and Orihime about halfway through the movie. Uryu turned the volume down a little so they could talk without waking him.

“He’s lost more weight.”

Orihime nodded. “I tried to heal him of whatever this is…” she waved an impatient hand, “but nothing changed. Again.”

She’d been trying to reject whatever was plaguing the redhead each week, but except for solving some of his exhaustion, it hadn’t changed anything.

Uryu shook his head. “His body isn’t the problem.  His reishi levels are getting higher every time I see him. I don’t know how, but it has to be what’s causing his symptoms. His soul just isn’t designed to hold so much.”

Chad shifted and wrapped his arm around Ichigo’s shoulder. “Can you teach him to bleed some of it off? Can he focus it like you do with the arrows?”

Uryu shook his head. “No. The problem is that it isn’t just about the reiryoku around him, or the reishi in him. It’s become part of him and is exerting its own spiritual pressure. He was strong before, but this…” his voice faded. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

Orihime glanced back and forth between the three. “Have you seen the new sketches?”

Chad shook his head, “No, but he collapsed at the gym earlier. He didn’t want to worry you, so that’s why he didn’t mention it. He has, apparently, talked to his dad about it finally. Shiba-san can’t find anything wrong. He drew blood for some tests, but I can tell Ichigo doesn’t think he’s going to find anything.”

Ichigo groaned sleepily and rolled away from Chad’s hold. “If you wanted to know, you could have just asked me. You didn’t have to wait until I was out for the count before discussing things.”

Orihime rested her hand on his knee. “You needed your rest, Ichigo-kun. We were just talking.”

Ichigo covered her hand with his own and gave it a squeeze. “Yeah, well, the time for denial has passed. Even Goat Face thinks so.”

Uryu’s lips twisted. “I could get you in to see Ryuuken. Maybe he could figure out what’s wrong.”

Ichigo snorted. “Yeah, that’s about a mile past my last resort, Uryu. But thanks for the offer.  Really.”

They all settled deeper into Chad’s immense sofa and turned the movie back on as Ichigo sighed in resignation.

“Time for a visit to the Shōten.”

***

Ichigo thrashed in his bedding, fighting the blankets as if they were trying to kill him.

“Ichigo,” Uryu reached out and touched the redhead’s shoulder. “You’re okay. It’s just a dream.  Try to calm down.”

It didn’t help. A well-placed elbow caught Uryu in the jaw with a crack, and he saw stars. He knew that if he didn’t calm Ichigo down, that was going to be the least of his injuries.

“Why are you doing this, Rin-chan?” The high-pitched cry pierced the dark room, far from Ichigo’s normal voice. “You said you wanted to speak to my father. You said you wanted me to…”

Ichigo screamed, and Uryu had never heard anything more terrifying. Ichigo didn’t scream. Nothing frightened him. Nothing.

“Ichigo,” he pushed across the cushions separating them on the makeshift futon where they’d crashed a few hours earlier and shook the redhead hard. The earlier elbow was accompanied by flailing legs and a sharp right hook that Uryu barely dodged. It would be easier if Ichigo knew what he was doing, but he couldn’t fight someone who was so helplessly caught in the maze of his own mind. “Wake up, baka.” He gave his friend a sharp slap, just enough to cut through whatever nightmare was running his body at the moment, and Ichigo sat bolt upright in his blankets.

“Otōsan! No!” The high-pitched voice faded as consciousness crept back into Ichigo’s eyes, the foggy amber brightening as he came back to himself.

“Shit,” he hopped to his feet and ran for the bathroom, retching into the sink, the afterimages burning themselves into his memory. Blood from a beautiful mouth, and an unfeeling face behind a deadly dagger thrust up through a white chin. The knowledge that a beloved father was next on the devil’s hit list and guilt that she was the one who opened the door for him.

He came back out of the bathroom to see Uryu waiting patiently, one of his new sketchbooks in hand, holding it and a pencil out.

“Get it out, Ichigo,” he said gently. “I’ll keep watch for a while.”

During the war they’d watched each other’s backs like that, and deep inside he knew that if Uryu was standing guard he didn’t have to. He nodded gratefully and flipped through until he found a blank page, the pencil and paper becoming the focus of his whole world.

There was no fire this time, just silent death, efficient in its betrayal of a woman’s trust and heart.  So many hopes snuffed out with that life.

He sketched the woman’s kimono, the garden, the blood on her fingers as she touched her face in disbelief, but mostly he focused on the killer’s face.  It was one he’d seen countless times. The same man wielding a black blade that held not only death but utter destruction for any soul it touched. A man intent on destroying the Shibas, not just in this generation, but forever.

Who he was Ichigo had no clue. At first, he’d hoped it was just an over-active imagination, a savior complex suffering with no one to save, but the face hadn’t faded. Instead, it had become so clear that he felt like he could smell mint tea on his breath, and the peppery scent of his hair oil.

It took an hour for him to wind down, another fifteen minutes for him to put a few more details on the image so he could be certain he wasn’t missing anything important. Uryu sat with his back to him, their feet barely touching, as Ichigo hunched over the kotatsu, the Quincy making certain that nothing would disturb his friend while he couldn’t defend himself.

“Finished?” He asked when he sensed Ichigo’s movements slowing.

“Yeah,” the redhead cleared his throat. “Never been female in one of these before.”

Uryu glanced over his shoulder and down at the sketch. Definitely a woman’s point of view.

“That’s the same guy you drew yesterday,” he said. Ichigo nodded.

“He’s been in a lot of these dreams. I don’t know who he is any more than any of the others, though.”

They put away the drawing supplies and straightened the blankets again, the warmth from the kotatsu a pleasant contrast to the rest of the cool apartment.

“All good?” Chad’s voice came from the door to the bedroom and they could see Orihime’s shadow in the hall to the tiny guest room waiting to hear the all clear. Ichigo couldn’t imagine going through this without them.

“Yeah, I think so. The worst is over. Just a little tired now.”

“Ichigo-kun?” Orihime asked quietly. “Would you like me to…”

He smiled at his friend but shook off her offer. “Thanks, but I think this time I’m just going to roll with the tiredness and see if I can’t fall asleep.”

Orihime pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and gave him a hard look. “Okay, but if you can’t get comfortable, or if you have another vision, wake me. I can at least take the physical pains away.”

They shared a smile and she headed back down the hall with a little wave to the others. He hated how he’d become a burden to his friends, but they’d made it clear that after all the time he’d spent saving everyone else, it was their turn to take care of him.

***

Kisuke didn’t think of himself as an artist, but after a few centuries of life before cameras one developed certain skills.  

“This is what he drew?”

Yoruichi had one hand outstretched, and Kisuke could feel how much she didn’t want to touch the sketch pad but couldn’t keep her fingers from reaching for it.

“It’s a fair representation. It doesn’t have the power of the original, but the details are pretty much there.”

Kisuke didn’t say it didn’t feel like the artist was screaming, or that it was missing the sheer hopelessness behind that other outstretched hand, small and uncalloused by life. He couldn’t find the words.

“He isn’t going to appreciate you having this, even if it is just a copy of what he drew. This is Ichigo, Kisuke. You need to be careful you don’t push him too far.”

He knew. There was enough between him and Ichigo already. He was trapped again, though. He couldn’t do what he needed to do without doing things that he really, really shouldn’t be doing.

Again.

Yoruichi shivered, still looking at the sketch book. “I knew a couple of these kids. They were a lot younger than Kūkaku, but we looked out for them occasionally. Played with them sometimes. The littlest, Ai-chan, didn’t like being at the compound. She wanted to go home so badly, but her parents were certain she’d be safer there.”

Kisuke sagged in his chair. He’d done things he would never be able to reconcile with, but there was always a reason. There was no reason for this.  

“What happened to them, Yoruichi? And why?”

Long dark limbs dropped into a chair across from him, and his friend sighed deeply.

“I don’t know, Kisuke. Kūkaku doesn’t talk about it much. She gets so angry and sad.” Her voice hardened. “I can’t imagine it happening to the Shihōin. I wouldn’t stop until I’d killed everyone responsible or died in the attempt.”

Kisuke nodded. He had no problem imagining that outcome, and if something like this happened again the Shiba Clan head would no doubt shove her Kakaku Hō up their collective asses and shoot off every firework in the Seireitei. But Kūkaku had been young when the Shiba had been targeted, and back then she wasn’t nearly as blood-thirsty as her Shihōin friend.

Isshin had been with the Gotei 13 already, although in retrospect he’d been sent on many missions that were better suited to others, and his absence meant that there was less force behind the Shiba outcry that they were being targeted. Kaien… well, Kaien had done what he could.  He’d been constrained by the rules of the Gotei 13 as well, but as the head of the Shiba Clan he was forgiven for some of his outbursts.

“Kaien was convinced there had to be someone in the Central 46 targeting the Shiba. He couldn’t prove it, but he told Kūkaku not to trust anyone from the Gotei 13 or Central 46 until he could dig a little deeper.  Unfortunately, he was killed before he came up with any proof of his suspicions.”

Unfortunate indeed.

Kisuke pulled the sketch pad across the table, once again focused on the faceless hand reaching out to his cousins.

“I think Ichigo is having visions of these killings.”

Yoruichi stilled, her little self-soothing movements stopped like a cat catching view of prey.

Long slender fingers picked up a pencil and sketched a small image on the corner of the pad.

“All of his drawings are from the victim's’ point of view. And this.” He pushed the pad towards Yoruichi. “It was on several pages of his sketchbooks, even as far back as his earliest drawings.”

The twisted emblem marked only a few items in Seireitei, and there was no reason for Ichigo to have ever recognized the significance of it, even if he had once seen it etched into the side of the Sōkyoku.

Ichigo had made sure that Twinned Punishment was destroyed, but there were other, smaller items that could destroy a soul without the burning power of Sōkyoku’s phoenix. It was only the most powerful souls that needed its sun-hot scourge.

“You don’t think someone…” Yoruichi started, but she didn’t finish the thought. “Tch. It would have to be, wouldn’t it?”

Kisuke nodded. There were only a few places a shinigami could find a soul-destroying weapon, and the Onmitsukido was by far the easiest.

“It looks like someone was using the Onmi, or at least the Onmi’s weapons, in their attack on the Shiba clan. It doesn’t get us any closer to why, but it might explain what’s going on with Ichigo.”

Yoruichi raised an eyebrow, invitation enough for Kisuke to launch into his favorite pastime.

“I have a theory…”

***

“Inoue-san.” Tessai didn’t blink but it was clear he was surprised to see the young woman standing in the Shōten.

“Tessai-san,” she said, bowing deeply. The two had developed a deep bond during the fighting for Karakura Town, and Orihime had great respect for the quiet man.

“Is Urahara-san in?” She was proud that her voice didn’t quaver. Even after a year without seeing the man, it was hard to say his name. “I would like to speak with him if it would be possible.”

Tessai stood a little straighter and Orihime could feel the weight of his silent questions bearing down on her, but as much as she would love to share her problems with him over a cup of wasabi-liquorice tea--it really was wonderful for headaches--as they had done during the dark days, today she had to be strong. For Ichigo.

“Please.”

It must have settled an unspoken concern in the man. He nodded once with a short bow of his own and silently moved towards the back of the store.

He was gone for a few minutes, no more, but to Orihime it felt like an hour. An hour for her to reconsider the wisdom of bearding the lion in his den, and start shaking in her mary janes.

“Inoue-san,” Tessai’s voice calmed her and she turned to face him. “Urahara-san is in the kitchen making tea. He asks that you join him.”

Orihime nodded. “That is very kind of him, Tessai-san. Thank you.”

She forced herself to put one foot in front of the other until she reached the beaded curtain that separated the shop from the living space, and then, with a deep breath, she pushed through.

It looked exactly the same. The shelves were still cluttered with everything from half open boxes of stock for the shop to exotic bottles of ingredients Urahara used in his experiments, and the kitchen smelled of curry powder, matcha, and incense.

“Inoue-san! Such a pleasure to see you.”

Orihime jumped and blushed. “Hello, Urahara-san.” She bowed. If it was a little less respectful than the bow she’d given Tessai, well, Urahara wouldn’t know. “It is very kind of you to allow me to visit without an invitation.”

Urahara tsked and waved his lotus fan. She hated that fan. “You are always welcome, Inoue-san.  I had hoped you and the others would know my door was never closed to you.”

Orihime fumed at his careless tone, the total glossing over his betrayal of Ichigo threatening to bubble up and choke her, and she forced herself to focus on the matter at hand. It wouldn’t help anyone if she let her feelings get the better of her now.

“You are gracious as ever, Urahara-san.” She moved toward the burner where the kettle had begun to boil. “May I?”

Urahara waved his permission with that damned fan and she set to pouring the water over the tea leaves he’d already spooned into the blue porcelain pot.  She breathed the steam in, the slightly astringent smell of green tea an instant relaxant for her overwrought nerves.

The green-robed man moved to his normal perch, a ratty old cushion on the floor next to the kotatsu, his bare feet tucked under the edge of the blanket there. His eyes were hidden under the edge of his hat, as usual, but somehow Orihime felt like she had more of his attention than she’d ever had before.

“Here we go.” She brought the tea tray to the table and started pouring. “The tea smells wonderful. Thank you for allowing me to share it with you.”

Urahara nodded, the fan disappeared in some deep pocket for the moment, his hands using the teacup as his camouflage instead.

It was ironic that the scars that lined his face were never the reason that he hid from the world.  No. He’d hidden his true feelings the whole time she’d known him. The scars just gave him a new excuse.

“How are your studies, Inoue-san?” The blond always insisted on chit chat. For once, she didn’t mind. It gave her time to get her thoughts in order.

“I am happy to say that I will finish my degree next term.” She inclined her head briefly. “It is amazing how much focus one learns through surviving conflict. It made university… much less intimidating.”

She didn’t point out that she was two years ahead of schedule. That she’d doubled up courses whenever possible. That the extra work soothed her during the nights when she couldn’t sleep, or the days when every crowd supplied showed her faces of people that she knew were dead. “I am supposed to start my practical rotations at the hospital after that. Dr. Ishida has guaranteed me a place.”

Uryu’s father was a terrible parent, but he cared greatly about the hospital and its patients. Working with him would allow her to use her spirits when she could, without all the explanations that would be necessary when dealing with someone who was unaware of the spirit world.

Urahara nodded slowly, following the unsaid messages easily. He knew how Ryuuken worked better than most.

“I thought perhaps you would go to work for Isshin-san at the Kurosaki Clinic.”

Orihime held her face blank, the calm visage covering the fierce frown that wanted to make itself known.

“No.” She gently placed her cup on the table, the careful motion a necessary focus. “I decided that was not the best fit for me.”

It had been her dream. She’d imagined a life rolled into the rambunctious embrace of the Kurosakis. A life where she and Ichigo married and, if they were lucky, had children that were just as honorable and awkward and wonderful as Ichigo was. When it became clear that he didn’t return her feelings, she thought she’d shatter with her dreams, but she realized fairly quickly that she didn’t have to grieve the loss of Ichigo. He loved her, it just didn’t take the form of her childhood dreams. That said, the constant reminder of what might have been didn’t sound like the best way to put the past behind her, so when Ryuuken had approached her with his offer, she’d accepted with no regrets. Shiba-san had known how she felt, and when she informed the collected Kurosaki/Shiba/Yasutora/Ishida/Inoue family over one of their group dinners that she was going to accept Ishida-sama’s offer of a position, he’d met her gaze with a seriousness he rarely showed and told her he was happy for her, and that if things didn’t work out she should come back to him because she’d always have a place at the clinic if she wanted.

It was good to have family.

She looked up from her tea and caught Urahara’s eyes. Urahara didn’t understand that. Didn’t understand what he threw away. Baka.

The blond’s ever-present bucket hat was tilted back far enough to show dark circles under his eyes. He looked older, which made no sense. Not only was he shinigami, but he was in a gigai. Still, there was a bone-deep weariness about him.  

Was it wrong that she was happy to see it?

“What about the others? I saw that Yasutora-kun won another of his matches. I told Tessai-san that I wouldn’t be surprised if he was chosen for the Japanese Olympic boxing team.”

Orihime wasn’t sure, but she thought Urahara was babbling. That couldn’t be right, though.

“I don’t think Chado-kun would feel comfortable with that. He says professionals are even paid for losing, so if he wins it isn’t as if they’re suffering unduly. He is very aware of his talents, and how some might feel he has an unfair advantage.”

She tapped a pale pink fingernail nervously on the tabletop, took a deep breath, and jumped in.

“I know you’re wondering why I came to see you today.”

One green shoulder rose a fraction. “Friends are always welcome at the Shoten, Inoue-san, but if there is something I can help you with, I do hope you won’t hesitate to ask.”

Her teeth were instantly on edge. That answer that wasn’t an answer thing he did was so frustrating. He was such a coward.

She was looking around the room trying to calm her thoughts again when her eyes fell on a sketchbook open on the shelf beside Urahara. It had several things stacked on top of it, but there was an edge visible. With a hand. A hand she’d seen before. A hand she cried over.

“How did you get that?”

All thought of politeness fled. He would tell her how he got that picture, if she had to use her spirits to take him apart and put him back together over and over again, his Crimson Princess be damned.

“Inoue-san,” he said placatingly, but she wasn’t going to let him run this time. Not this time.

“Tell me.”

Sparks haloed her head, her Shun Shun Rikka practically vibrating at her temples, and Urahara bowed his head and shifted to pull the sketchbook off the shelf.

“Should have made a more thorough effort to put this away, but as you can see,” he waved a hand in her direction, “I wasn’t exactly expecting company.”

Orihime grabbed the book and pulled it closer. “Ichigo didn’t draw this.”

Urahara hummed in agreement. “No. I did.”

Brown eyes flew up to pin him in place, and her voice dropped dangerously. “Are you saying that you sent these visions to Ichigo?”

If possible Urahara looked even more tired.

“I know you and your friends have issues with me, Inoue-san, but in this let me reassure you. I do not know why Kurosaki-san is suffering through these visions.” His voice was as bland as rice porridge, but there was a glint in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “I didn’t even know they were happening until Isshin-san called upon me yesterday. That is when I saw the picture I copied.”

Orihime snorted. “Shiba-san was snooping through Ichigo-kun’s belongings I suppose. Not a huge surprise, and not his best choice of action, but at least he’s trying.”

“We are all trying, Inoue-san. Kurosaki-san has earned our efforts a hundred times over.” He shifted on his cushion and turned the sketchbook to where the symbol he’d drawn was foremost. “I believe this has something to do with what is happening. I noticed it on several of the drawings Isshin-san showed me.”

Orihime translated the kanji entwined in the little cartouche. Tamashī Mekuri. “Soul Stripping.”

Urahara made a disapproving sound and nodded. “One of the forbidden inventions of the Kidō Corps. Tessai-san outlawed its use when he was promoted.”

Orihime just happened to be looking down when it happened, or she’d never have noticed Urahara’s hand as it fisted along the inside of his thigh.

“What does it do?” She was almost afraid of the answer. If the Kidō Corps had forbidden it, it couldn’t be anything good.

“It does exactly what it sounds like. A soul is stripped from its consciousness and cast out. It dissolves into mindless reiryoku and has no chance at reincarnation. It is a final punishment for souls that are determined to be irredeemable. Polluted. Whose consciousness would poison the whole of the cycle if it were allowed to remain intact.”

Orihime considered this for a moment, horror beginning to dawn. “Like the Sōkyoku?”

“Not exactly.” The blond sat back on his cushion and gave another little half shrug. “It doesn’t have that kind of power behind it.”

He didn’t come out and say It doesn’t summon an enormous phoenix to destroy everything in its path, but he didn’t need to. That kind of thing got noticed, and whatever Urahara was chasing was more subtle than that.

“For Kurosaki-san to be seeing it in his visions, it has to be connected. There are only a few still living in Seireitei that know this spell, and even fewer weapons that have been imbued with its power. It is, at least, a place to start.”

“Can you help him now? While you’re chasing whatever kidō casting phantom is out there?”

The tiredness was back, and Urahara shifted awkwardly until he was almost curled in upon himself.

“I do not believe Kurosaki-san is interested in whatever aid I might provide.” He flipped open his fan, but not before Orihime saw the frustration on his face. “I will do what I can through Isshin-san. Dragging him here against his will would only add to his burden when he is already so clearly suffering, and I refuse to be a party to that. He has enough bad memories of this place already.”

For a year Orihime had struggled with her feelings about the man across from her. She’d practically hated him at times, but now… she admitted she’d been denying something all this time, and it was time to stop.

“Ichigo-kun collapsed yesterday.” She dropped it into the middle of the conversation with an almost audible clang. “That’s why I’m here.”

All pretense of disinterested calm drained from the shopkeeper, and he leaned forward against the table’s edge, her words bringing him to total attention.

“Collapsed?” he asked.

“Yup,” she picked up her tea cup and sipped the cooled brew. “He was watching Chado-kun spar, and then *bang* out for the count.” She watched the blond intently. “It took almost ten minutes for them to bring him around, and then he was wiped out all evening. Uryu-kun says his reishi levels are rising at a dangerous rate, but he can’t figure out how to make it stop.”

The blond was always pale, but he got noticeably paler as she shared more details about Ichigo’s declining health. His fists clenched reflexively, and his breathing was a little faster. If she wasn’t mistaken, and after four years of training as an ER nurse she felt fairly confident in her skills, he was on the edge of a panic attack.  

The mighty Urahara Kisuke, panicking over Ichigo. It was about time.

“He is okay now, I assume? No lingering effects of the collapse?” his questions were practical, but the tone in his voice was personal, and Orihime decided to be merciful.

“He was fine when he went to sleep last night. I’ve been using my Shun Shun Rikka to make sure that whatever is affecting his spiritual pressure levels doesn’t harm his body, but I can’t stop the images from affecting how he feels, or what he thinks.”

Silence fell between them for a moment.

“If he is somehow reliving these events, I can only imagine the toll it must take.”

It wouldn’t take too much imagination, Orihime thought. Urahara had his own demons, his own visions of death to deal with, but he had always been the killer not the victim, and so he made peace with his visions through guilt. It was a miserable peace, but it was more closure than Ichigo had, and Orihime figured he knew that, too.

“He’s coming here this afternoon.” She put the tea down and looked straight at the older man. “He needs your help Urahara-san. Will you turn him away again?”

Urahara stiffened. “I never turned him away, Inoue-san. Never.”

The sneer on her face was even more powerful because it was so rarely seen. “You can lie to yourself, Urahara-san,” she snapped, “but I saw what he was like when you sent him away the last time. I held him as he cried. Chado-kun had to be stopped from coming here and shoving that striped hat up your ass where your head was. You broke his heart, and then you told him to come back once he’d gotten over his adolescent hero-worship.”

She stood, too angry to remain any longer.  Understanding that the feelings between Urahara and Ichigo weren’t as one-sided as she’d thought only made the hateful way the older man had pushed her friend away even harder to swallow.

“How could you?” she whispered. “He loved you. Loves you, still. And here you are, pretending it doesn’t matter, letting him suffer alone. Again.”

She wiped away a tear. “You’re both fools.”

“I have been called worse, my dear,” he said, “and truly. However, if Kurosaki-san wants to come and let me examine him, I would be happy for the chance to help him. Please tell him that.”

She started walking for the front of the shop and flipped her hair back over one shoulder as she sent him one last look. “Tell him yourself. If you want to help, get over your pride or your shame or whatever is causing you to be like this and help. He needs you, and you owe it to him.”

And with the clicking of the beaded curtain she was gone.

***

“Kurosaki Clinic, how can I help you?”

The bright voice cut through the line like sunshine, and Kisuke smiled. Nothing would ever change Yuzu.

“Ah, Kurosaki-kun,” he smiled into the phone, putting his best foot forward, “it has been a long time. This is Urahara Kisuke. I’m trying to reach your brother.”

The phone dropped its connection and he was left speaking into dead air.

He dialed again.

“Kurosaki Clinic, how can I help you?”

“Kurosaki-kun,” he started again, “I’m sorry, I had a problem with my connection. I am trying to get-”

“It was no problem at all,” she said, overriding him. “I hung up on you. And I’m going to do it again. Goodbye.”

And she did.

Kisuke didn’t dial the clinic again. He, instead, called Isshin directly. “Hello, Shiba Isshin.”

“Isshin-san,” he said, his tone a little less cheerful than it had been for Yuzu. “I do hope you don’t intend to hang up on me.”

Isshin grunted. “Why would I hang up on you?”

“I don’t know, but apparently your daughter had a reason.”

It didn’t matter. It really didn’t. He knew that when he refused Ichigo’s advances there would be sides taken. It was just… unexpected.

“Ah, Yuzu,” Isshin made understanding noises. “Yeah, she hates your guts. Pretty sure Karin does, too.”

Kisuke didn’t pretend to be surprised. Karin had always been the volatile one of the twins. If Yuzu had shut that door on him, Karin would have slammed his foot in it given the chance.

“Well, regardless of my standing with your daughters, I am actually calling about your other offspring. I need to get in touch with him, but it seems the phone number I have for him no longer works.”

There was another uncomfortable silence. “Yes, about that… I’ve been thinking. You were right when you said I shouldn’t have gone through Ichigo’s things, and I think that unless you’ve already got some idea of what is going on, we should put this whole thing on the back burner until I get the results from the blood tests back from the lab. We really ought to rule out any--”

Kisuke cut him off. “Inoue-san came to see me this morning.”

Apparently, that news was as surprising to Isshin as the event had been to Kisuke. The other man sputtered and coughed into the phone.

“She what? She swore she’d never…” Isshin realized what he was saying and tried to dial things back but it was hopeless. “I mean…  oh hell, Kisuke, you know what I mean.”

He knew.

“Nevertheless, she came to see me. She told me Ichigo collapsed yesterday.”

“Collapsed!” The worried parent voice would never sound normal coming from Isshin, but it happened often enough now that Kisuke didn’t look for the lie in it. “He didn’t say anything to me. After promising to let me know!”

“Calm down, Isshin-san. I’m sure he will tell you, he just needs time to recover. However, if he is physically unable to deal with the strain of these visions… if he is collapsing from them… I don’t believe we have the luxury of waiting and seeing.”

He thought about the next words carefully. “Inoue-san indicated that he meant to visit the Shōten this afternoon.”

This time Isshin didn’t burst out with denials. “Things must be worse than he told me.”

The implication that only something extreme could drive Ichigo to the Shōten was a bitter truth, but Kisuke couldn’t deny it. He remembered the look of utter betrayal on Ichigo’s face from their last meeting. He lived with the memory of it every day.

“Indeed,” he agreed. “That is why I wanted to contact him first.  If meeting him someplace like the clinic would make it easier for him… Well, Tessai-san and I can take readings anywhere.”

Kisuke swallowed the lump that was trying to block his throat. “You know I’d do whatever necessary to help him, Isshin-san.”

A rough voice sounded behind him. “It was never your help I wanted, Kisuke.” Ichigo laughed bitterly. “And I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you and Goat Face are conspiring behind my back, again.”

His arms were too thin. Muscles from years of sword work were still there, but there was nothing but a layer of skin covering them. His face was drawn, too, amber eyes dull and huge in his face, and Kisuke ached to see the pain in them.

“Kurosaki-san,” he said.  “As a matter of fact, I was trying to contact you. I tried the clinic first, but Yuzu-kun refused to speak to me. So, I called your father.”

Ichigo crossed the small living room and placed a key on the table.  He’d had it all this time but had never used it.

“Orihime told me she came to see you this morning.” He was looking around the room like he didn’t know what to do, and it hurt almost more than the lost look on his face.  Once, he’d considered this almost more a home than his own, but Kisuke had taken that from him, too.

“She did.” The shopkeeper disconnected his call and laid the phone on the shelf beside him. “I spoke to your father yesterday, though.  He was worried about what was happening to you and thought I might be able to help.”

Ichigo chose Tessai’s seat and lowered himself onto the pale pink patterned cushion, moving slowly and carefully like someone more than twice his age.

“Well, for once I’m glad people are doing all the talking for me.  Makes this whole reunion thing a little less awkward don’t you think?” He smiled, but it was a stiff and unnatural thing. “See the thing is, I almost didn’t come today anyway.  Probably would’ve chickened out if Uryu hadn’t threatened to jab me with his sewing needles if I didn’t.”

Kisuke understood.  He’d been avoiding this moment too, but time for avoidance was past.  Ichigo needed him, needed him in a way he could actually give him, and nothing was going to stop him now.

“Well, I will have to thank Ishida-san the next time I see him.”  He moved closer to the redhead and sat on the floor in front of him and spoke softly. “I am very glad to see you, Kurosaki-san.”

He took Ichigo’s hand in his and just held it for a moment, letting his own skin warm it, and he felt the faint tremor that shook the fingers.

“Kisuke,” Ichigo’s voice cracked. “I know I shouldn’t be here, but…” he raised his eyes to the blond’s and swallowed thickly, “I think I’m going crazy.  I’ve fought wanna-be gods, and killed monsters, but I can’t fight this.  I don’t even know what it is.  Please.”

Kisuke’s fingers were crushed in a painful grip but he didn’t try to pull them back. This little bit of pain was nothing compared to what he’d tolerate if it meant he was helping Ichigo.

“Stop that.” He said firmly. “You are not going crazy, and we will find a way to fix this.” He wrapped his free hand around the two clenched ones and squeezed encouragingly.  

“Tessai-san!” He pitched his voice in the sing-song that cut all the way through to the shop, but he knew Tessai was just in the next room waiting.  He knew his kidō skills were going to be an important part of fixing whatever was haunting Ichigo. “We have work to do.”

The large man appeared silently in the doorway and he bowed.

“Welcome back, Kurosaki-san.” There was a world of quiet emotion in those three words, and Ichigo nodded at the big man.

“Good to see you, too, Tessai-san.” He started to say something else, but the words garbled in his throat, and the little bit of color in his face drained away.

“Kisuke--” he whispered. Then he fell.

***

 The little man in black swung his tachi with a vengeance, his face a rictus of hate. The weapon flashed in the low light and the young man fell, blood spurting across the frost covered ground, the redness fading to black as it melted into the grass. Miyake-sama. Master. He did nothing. Let me call for the healer, maybe he can…  No. No!  You can’t!  Please!  PLEASE!!! The shield he summoned wasn’t fast enough, and he felt the burning bite of the tachi shatter his focus and the spell unraveled around him.

The metallic smell of blood faded with the screams in his head, but Ichigo couldn’t move. His body was as frozen as the corpse he’d just been.

“Kurosaki-san,” Kisuke’s arms were wrapped around him but he could barely feel it.  His skin was cold, so cold. “Kurosaki-san!” Kisuke was getting louder, his fingers checking his pulse and tapping his face sharply, but Ichigo was still too far away to respond.

“Ichigo!”  Kisuke picked him up as if he weighed nothing and carried in through the mini-maze of the living space until he reached the sleeping quarters, and then Ichigo was lowered to a futon and covered, the soft gray blankets the same color as Kisuke’s eyes.

“Miyake-sama,” he forced the name through stiff lips, convinced it was important. “He killed me. Killed the others, too.”

“Shhhhh, Ichigo, I’ve got you,” Kisuke murmured the words of comfort as he started setting a pair of kidō seals at the head and foot of the futon. “Just another minute.  Just stay with me. Please. Just another minute? You can manage one more minute, can’t you.  Just one more.”

Then he was yelling for Tessai, the large man moving around in the hallway doing something Ichigo couldn’t see, but he could feel the wall of reishi that was being raised.  It felt like the shield that Hachi placed around the Visored’s warehouse, but smaller.  Tighter. A dome around this room, and him, and Kisuke.

Ichigo shivered as goose bumps raced across his skin, the feverish feeling was almost overwhelming, but he focused on Kisuke’s voice, that voice he’d dreamed of, calling his name, asking him to stay.

“Kisuke.” He fought the vision for control, and he could feel it receding a little. Then, just as Kisuke finished setting the second kidō seal, the hold it had on him disappeared in a flash.

He was himself again.

His throat was raw, and he realized he must’ve been screaming again, “I hope the neighbors didn’t call the cops when I started screaming.”

Kisuke shook his head at the redhead. “Don’t worry about that.  If they haven’t called the police about Jinta and Ururu’s battles royale, a little screaming wouldn’t cause them to blink an eye.”

Ichigo was so tired.  He tried to focus on Kisuke, but his eyes had other ideas. “Whatever you and Tessai did helped.  I could feel it.”

Kisuke looked at Tessai still standing in the doorway and they exchanged some silent kidō master information and Ichigo sighed. He just wanted to sleep.

“Can I just rest here for a little bit?” He tried not to sound pathetic, but he was comfortable for the first time in months, and the feeling of something scratching at his reiatsu was gone. “I promise I won’t stay long. I don’t want to be a bother.”

And if he heard Kisuke whisper he could stay forever if he wanted to, well…  apparently, some hallucinations were better than others.

***

“I think he’ll sleep for a while, Tessai-san,” Kisuke quietly joined his friend in the hallway.  “It’s fairly clear that our theory of Ichigo being the center of a confluence of conscious reishi was right.  Hopefully, that also means that the seals will keep him protected from it,” he sighed.

“Did you notice the barrier he was summoning?” Tessai’s voice was dark. “Kurosaki-kun doesn’t know that spell.  That had to be something he was acting out from the vision.”

“Yes,” Kisuke said. “I’m lucky he didn’t manage to finish the spell.  I was close enough it would have done quite a bit of damage.”

“Also, I heard what he said. Miyake-sama killed me.” Tessai looked down, a rare expression of anger on his face. “The Miyake family has deep roots within the Kidō Corps.  I personally trained two of them before our escape to the living world.  They didn’t have the focus to become great, but they had impressive natural talent. There was nothing to prevent them from reaching officer level if they’d wanted it.”

That made a sort of sense. “Have any of the Miyake ever been members of the Second?”

“Not as far as I know,” Tessai shook his head. “They had no connection to the Shihōin. The men I knew were very proud of their samurai ties. They claimed that their grandfather remembered his life before Seireitei, and that he was so deeply tied to his honor that the knowledge of that past couldn’t be erased by anything short of the Sōkyoku itself.”

The shopkeeper walked down the hall to the kitchen and lit the fire under the kettle.

“So, we have a kidō wielding family talking about honor and the Sōkyoku. Sounds like perhaps someone decided to use their skills to take their revenge against the Shiba, and somehow, through whatever misbegotten method they were using to try to destroy the connection between the Shiba and their soul particles, they’ve left them wandering loose in some sort of limbo, unable to re-enter the reincarnation stream, but still aware.  Still Shiba.”

Fifty years of only being able to remember what was lost.  To remember the betrayal of death. The fear.

Tessai agreed. “Kurosaki-kun must be acting like a beacon for them.  Drawing them to him, as only an incredibly powerful Shiba force could.”

Kisuke laughed under his breath as he scooped matcha into the teapot.  “Why am I not surprised? Ichigo has always been a neon sign in the darkness calling to the lost.”

He had called to Kisuke, pulled him from the shell he’d built around himself. Forced him back into the light. Back into life. Even Benihime sang his praises, and Kisuke wasn’t foolish enough to argue with her.

“It doesn’t explain how the particles are entering his personal reishi pool and affecting him physically?” Tessai frowned. “Nor does it explain why the Shiba’s were targeted in the first place.  However, our first priority is to stabilize Kurosaki-kun and prevent any more damage.”

***

When Ichigo awoke, he wasn’t alone.

“Ichigo-kun!” Orihime excitedly moved to sit beside him on the futon when he shifted. “You look much better!”

“I feel better,” he said, and it was true.  The echoes in his head were gone, and the raw feeling under his skin had faded almost completely. “A lot better, actually.”

He sat up and rubbed the back of his neck, the last echoes of the vision of being killed much farther away than usual at this point.  “I collapsed again, didn’t I?”

“Technically, no,” she said, pushing a piece of hair behind an ear, making one of her hairpins glint in the low light. “Urahara-san said that you were exhausted after the last vision, but that you didn’t lose consciousness due to the changes in your reiatsu.”

Uryu was sitting by the window. “The shinigami was able to stabilize your reiryoku.  There are some interesting protections weaved into the walls of this room already, but I think the kidō seals they placed around you were the real key.  They effectively stop any reishi from entering this space, so while your reiatsu isn’t affected, there’s nothing extra bombarding you.”

Ichigo remembered Tessai’s mad dash to raise the shield just as he was about to collapse again, buried under a reishi-slide too powerful for him to handle.  It was a close call, and he didn’t want to think of how long it would have taken him to recover if he hadn’t managed it in time.

“So, you’re basically a boy in a bubble.”

He looked around at the room, littered with Kisuke’s personal things and sighed. A sandalwood incense, and Kisuke scented bubble.  Why couldn’t the Universe just kill him already?

He must’ve made some sound because Uryu let out a little snort of laughter.  “Yeah.  Someone out there loves fucking with you, Kurosaki.”

Another laugh rumbled in the distance. Goat Face. Of course.

“Your dad got here just before we did.” Orihime grimaced. “Apparently he panicked when Urahara-san hung up on him. He told Yuzu-chan to close the clinic and shunpo’d over here. He’s already received one Jigokuchō since he arrived.  I’m assuming it’s for breaking the shinigami laws of concealment, but I didn’t ask.”

His dad was many things, but restrained and logical in the face of trouble was nowhere on that list. He had to admit, though, that it was nice to finally feel important to his old man, even if it did mean he had a brand new helicopter parent in his life at twenty-three.

“At least he hasn’t run in here and tackled me.”

Orihime grinned.  “He tried.  Apparently Urahara-san put a little extra anti-Shiba kick in the shield.  He can’t get in.”

“And the best part, is that because the problem you’re having is directly connected to Shiba energy, there’s nothing he can do about it.” Uryu said.

Ichigo burrowed back into the blankets, sucking up every ounce of comfort he could.

“Shiba, huh?  So the visions?”

A dainty hand reached out and patted his arm, and he knew Orihime was trying to find a way to tell him what he needed to know gently.

“It’s okay, Orihime,” he said. “Just tell me. Can’t fight it if I don’t know what it is.”

Uryu saved her. “That’s just it.  We’re not sure it’s something you can fight. When we got here we saw that you’d dropped your pack by the back door, so we pulled your sketchbooks out and let them look at them.  All three of them recognized someone in those books, and every single vision was the murder of a Shiba.”

Ichigo had often wondered what had happened to his father’s clan, but it wasn’t something Goat Face was comfortable talking about.  He carried as much guilt over it as Kisuke did over what he’d done for the Onmitsukidō, or during the wars against Aizen and Ywach.

“Did any of them recognize the killers?” he asked.

“Tessai-san.” Orihime looked solemn.  “They were students of his at one point apparently.  He was most… disturbed.”

“I can imagine.”  Ichigo had only seen Tessai lose his cool twice during the war against Aizen, but he’d been a demon in the fight against the Quincy.  The big man did not take kindly to betrayal, and he would destroy anyone who attacked an innocent. Many of the Shiba he’d seen killed were innocents.

His stomach growled and he realized he was hungry for the first time in weeks. “Am I really stuck in this room?” he asked. “I’m starving.”

Orihime beamed. “This is the safest place for you, but Tessai-san told me they set up a slightly less intense barrier around the building.  You should be safe as long as you don’t leave, and I know for a fact that there’s a big pot of Yuzu’s curry out there keeping warm on the stove.”

Yuzu’s curry and Kisuke’s bedroom. Ichigo could think of worse ways to recuperate.

***

“So, as much as I hate to admit it, I am partially to blame for Kurosaki-san’s current state of disability.” Urahara said, voice heavy with guilt. “The sword used to return his powers to him during the conflict with Ginjo, was designed to allow many different types of power to be absorbed into his soul, recharging it.  It had to open a pathway for the reishi to travel and the spells I worked into its surface acted almost like the drugs used in a human organ transplant surgery.  I had to make sure the new energy wasn’t somehow rejected by his soul before it could be absorbed and accepted as Kurosaki-san’s own.”

Uryu caught on quickly. “And that pathway is still open?”

Kisuke nodded. “It seems likely, yes.  Tessai-san is going to examine Kurosaki-san more closely now that he has rested and there is no foreign reishi clouding the readings, but that is my best guess.”

The room was crowded, and it felt almost like the old days. Everyone focused on solving a problem, brought together by conflict, but kept together by something stronger.  That something had almost always been Ichigo.   It didn’t seem wrong that he was again the reason that the ten of them were once again around his table.  It felt even more normal to realize that his mistake was what caused part of the problem in the first place.

“Stop blaming yourself, Kisuke,” the redhead said. He was sitting slouched against Chad’s side, his burst of energy from earlier waning as the discussion progressed.  He would need to be forced to rest soon, but from the look on Orihime’s face that wasn’t going to be a problem. “Even if you’d told me at the time that this was a possible side effect I would have grabbed that sword with both hands and stabbed myself if I had to.”

He probably meant it, but that didn’t mean it was the wise choice, or that he knew what he’d have chosen if he’d had the choice.  Ichigo was too ready to just gloss over the details.

“Regardless of what caused the path, what is this energy that is attacking Ichigo-kun through that path.  You keep saying it’s Shiba energy, but unless I’m mistaken souls that have that much awareness reenter the reincarnation cycle, and the ones that don’t just become reishi.”

Tessai spread his big hands. “The kidō corps has invented many spells over the ages that affect reishi and reiryoku.  It allows shinigami to perform the konso that releases souls to come to Soul Society, and on the other end of the spectrum it is used to restrain a soul’s spiritual pressure, or even destroy it in cases of capital punishment.”

“The Sōkyoku.” Ichigo said it like it left a bad taste in his mouth, but Tessai nodded.

“Yes, the Sōkyoku had several different spells embedded in it, one of which was Tamashī Mekuri. The symbol of which is scattered throughout the drawings you’ve made over the past few months.”

“Soul Stripping.” Isshin ground the words out. “I thought that had been made illegal by Central 46.”

Tessai shrugged.  “I am the one who declared it illegal to teach to the Kidō Corps, and Central 46 supported my decision, with a few noted exceptions. But, that doesn’t mean that the skill disappeared.  There were many who already knew how to cast it, and several weapons that had it embedded in them.”

“Let me guess. One of which was a black tachi with a white tassel on the pommel and that symbol stamped in the side of the blade.”  Ichigo’s voice was perfectly flat, but Kisuke could hear the pain in it. He’d seen what the weapon could do up close and personal, and there was nothing that would make that less horrific.

“Yes.” Tessai didn’t dance around with his answers. “Someone used it to not only kill the Shiba living in Seireitei, but attempted to destroy their spirits completely, preventing them from reincarnating, and thereby removing their power from the Shiba forever.”

Yoruichi pounced onto the important part of that sentence. “Attempted?”

“You’re saying they’re still conscious out there.” Isshin sounded appalled, and Kisuke couldn’t blame him.

“Yes.  The killers didn’t have enough reiatsu to activate the full effect of the weapon.  It takes a particular kind of person to be able to completely destroy a soul.  There can be no question in their mind, or they won’t be able to completely strip the consciousness from the energy.’

“Instead of destroying the Shiba energy, they just sent it into limbo, and it has been there ever since. It has coalesced into a metaphysical stream of reishi that identifies as Shiba, and it is still picking up any stray bits of soul that survived the extermination.”

“Because Ichigo has so much Shiba energy of his own, he’s acting like a magnet. It wouldn’t matter except for the hole we punched through his souls protective outer layer. It started as just a trickle, so it wasn’t noticeable. Now that the stream has started moving, though, it is continuing to gain strength as it pours into him.  That is why his reishi levels were rising so rapidly for no reason, and if we don’t close the pathway it will keep happening, until finally it overwhelms his own soul particles.”

“Which I would really like to skip, if possible.” Ichigo sat up, eyes glassy. “But if we close the pathway, what will happen to them?”

“Them who, Kurosaki-san?” Kisuke asked, but he knew the answer.

Ichigo yawned a jaw-cracking yawn and leaned forward on his elbows. “Don’t play dumb, Kisuke.  The souls that are hitching a ride with me.  What will happen to them?”

Kisuke sighed, he knew this was where Ichigo would get stuck.  “Nothing.  They will remain as they have been since they were killed.”

Isshin shifted uncomfortably, and Yoruichi hissed under her breath.  No one liked the answer, but that didn’t change it.

“They’ll just stay…  lost?” The young man looked like the bottom had fallen out of his world, and Kisuke wished he didn’t always have to be the voice of doom.

“Without an anchor, the energy will continue to move through the currents of reishi that flow around us.”

Ichigo pushed himself up, sleepiness gone and a determined look on his face. Kisuke couldn’t help but smile; it was exactly the reaction he’d predicted to Tessai that afternoon.

“Well, screw that.”

***

Kisuke rubbed his eyes and bent back over the table where he and Tessai had God knows what spread out.  It looked like parts of a gigai, and a whole lot of I-have-no-idea-what-that-is.

“But if we open the pathway with the same set of spells….”

He let the actual words fade out. They’d been at it for a couple of hours, and Ichigo didn’t understand any more of it now than he had when they’d started.  It was just nice to hear them in the background, that familiar sound that he hadn’t realized he depended on for peace of mind until he’d lost it.

Everyone but Yoruichi had gone home after the meeting, although getting Isshin to leave had been a struggle.  He seemed to think that his presence would be soothing.  Chad and Uryu had frog-marched him out the door with Orihime close behind to make sure he didn’t bolt.  They were good friends.

He closed his eyes and drifted.

 Shiba-san. Can you hear me now, Shiba-san?

The voice was small and melodic, tickling the back of his mind like a distant whisper.

 Please, Shiba-san.  Please try to listen.

Ichigo’s eyes were so heavy, but he couldn’t ignore the voice in his head. If I’m not dreaming, he thought, then I can hear you.

He could almost feel the relieved laughter that burst in the back of his head. I don’t believe you’re dreaming, but after all this time I feel like I must be.  

Ichigo groaned.  Now his imagination was talking to him instead of just showing him horror movies on the back of his eyeballs.

 Not your imagination, Shiba-san, and I am very sorry that you’ve been subjected to so much unpleasantness recently.

Unpleasantness.  Well, that was one word for it.

Who are you? Ichigo thought loudly, and the voice tittered a cultured little laugh. You do not have to shout.  I can hear you perfectly well.

Fine, he thought again. Who are you?

And she told him.

***

“She says she is Shiba Shiori.  She married into the Shiba clan about the time my dad was born. She was Yamamoto’s niece or something.  I didn’t really follow that part.”

Kisuke sipped his tea.  If this got any more convoluted, though, he was going to shift to sake.

“She said she found me first, and the others followed her.”

Tessai grunted. “A relative of Yamamoto-soutaichou would probably be quite powerful in her own right.  It would make sense that she would have a greater chance of surviving the soul stripping process.”

“She said the reason I can hear her now is because there’s no more new reishi coming in, and she seems to be the most…  coherent of the souls there.”

They might be able to use that. If Shiba Shiori was this successful with contacting both Ichigo’s conscious mind, and the soul fragments clinging to him, she could be a gathering force.  That would solve the problem he and Tessai were having about how to separate Ichigo’s reishi from the foreign parts.

Yoruichi stretched out on the low couch next to them.  “Her name rings a bell, but I’m sure Kūkaku would remember her.”

Ichigo laughed. “She remembers both of you.  And all the trouble you caused.”

Yoruichi just grinned. “Youthful exuberance. Nothing more.”

That was it! How could he have missed it!

“We need to go to the Shiba compound.  Send a Jigokuchō.  We need Isshin-san, Kūkaku, and Ganju.  Tessai-san?  Gather up the gigai we were working on, and bring that, too.  Oh, and we should probably send a message to the Soutaichou that there’s a pair of murderers in the Kidō Corps, but we can deal with that later.”

He stopped and looked around.  Everyone was staring at him.

“What? Haven’t you ever seen genius in action before?”  He snapped his fan open and shooed everyone into action.

Ichigo didn’t move. “You’re sure this is a good idea?” It was clear he was nervous about leaving the protection of the sealed Shoten.

Kisuke looked him square in the eyes. “I promised I wouldn’t lie to you again, Kurosaki-san. Do you really want an answer to that?”

Ichigo sighed. “This is really going to hurt isn’t it.”

“Probably.” The blond nodded, but reached out a hand and patted his shoulder lightly. “Hopefully, it will be the last time, though.”

Yoruichi stood up and stretched. “Famous last words, eh, Kisuke?” She wrapped her arm around Ichigo’s waist and herded him towards the senkaimon in the training area. “At least we’ll all be here to tell him I told you so, Ichigo-kun.”

Ichigo brightened a little, and the blond hid his smile behind his fan.  It was good to see that he still had a sense of humor, even if it was at Kisuke’s expense.  

Time to work.

***

“So, I want you three to focus your reiatsu into the Reishūkaku.  Focus as much as you can, without blowing it up, of course.”  With Kūkaku, that last part was sometimes necessary.

Isshin and Ganju stood on either side of the glowing orb, their faces works of concentration, and when Kūkaku added her reiatsu, there was a noticeable rise of temperature in the room.  

Shiba’s really had more reiatsu than was good for them.  Or anyone, as they were discovering.

It only took five minutes for the three to begin sweating and shaking from the effort of pouring more reiatsu into the Reishūkaku, but Kisuke waited until he could feel the surface of it start to vibrate before he called a halt.

“That should do it.” Kūkaku handed the cannonball back to him, and he frowned.  This was the tricky part.  Or one of them, at least.

“Tessai-san, if you’d do the honors?” he asked, stepping away from the gathered Shiba.

Tessai silently nodded and then set to work, raising two interlaced shields that would protect those in the area from both physical and spiritual damage.

“It’s ready, Urahara-san,” he said, and the blond bowed a little in thanks.

He hadn’t focused any of his personal energy into the reishūkaku because it was important that it contain nothing but Shiba vibrations.  This part, however, was just a matter of wrestling it into shape.  Kisuke didn’t have a huge amount of reishi to work with like Ichigo did, but he was very good at using what he had.

Reishūkaku typically were enlarged after being filled with reiatsu.  This time, though, Kisuke was going to collapse it in on itself.  He needed it small enough to fit inside the gigai he’d constructed.

“Be careful Kisuke,” Yoruichi was standing next to Kūkaku, not touching, but comforting. “You’d be hard to replace.”

Kisuke nodded once, but this wasn’t about him.  It was about Ichigo, and he would be much harder to replace.

There, he thought finally. That should be small enough. Plus, nothing had exploded, which was always a good sign.

“Tessai-san,” he said, holding the now palm-sized orb up. “I think it’s safe to take the shields down now.”

***

Ichigo felt like he was going to throw up.  The feverish feelings were back and worse than ever.  His head was pounding like he’d drunk too much sake the night before, and the day before that, and the day before that.  He wasn’t sure he was going to make it through this.

It had been bad in the living world, the constant scratching at his soul, but here in Soul Society it was hundreds of times worse.  He supposed that made sense, though.  There would be weaker soul fragments that were never able to leave the area where they were killed, and now that he was there, right next to them, they, too, wanted to join the party.

Isshin notice him swaying on his feet. “Hold on, Son,” he said, slipping a hand under Ichigo’s elbow to steady him.  “Not much longer now.”

Ichigo laughed, a strangled sound.  Not much longer now. That’s what Isshin said to women delivering babies, or when he was putting in stitches in an emergency when he didn’t have anesthetic nearby. But what choice did he have.

Kisuke glanced over at him, concern clear on his face, but he didn’t stop what he was doing.  Tessai had placed the gigai in a chair, a gaping hole in the chest where the soul-chain of a real human would be. That was where they were going to put the reishūkaku.

“Tessai-san,” he said, holding the now palm-sized orb up. “I think it’s safe to take the shields down now.”

Ichigo let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.  He’d been scared that something would go wrong with this step and Kisuke would be hurt, but he didn’t have any other suggestion of what to do, so he’d just tamped the fear down into the box he kept all his Kisuke related feelings in.

Pretty soon he was going to need a bigger box.

“Okay, let’s see how this works.” Kisuke covered the distance to the gigai in a few steps and gently tucked the glowing ball of spirit into the opening.  Ichigo had never watched the animation of a gigai before, but he knew the basics.  This didn’t look like the basics.

The opening tightened on its own, pulling the not-skin together like a zipper over the reishūkaku, and the skin began to warm, but where a normal gigai would change to reflect the reiatsu powering it, this one didn’t take on any of the physical characteristics of the three Shibas that contributed to its activating force.

“Tabula Rasa.” Kisuke stood and watched the process for another long minute, before deciding it was safe to move to the next step.

Another wave of nausea and dizziness hit him, and Ichigo fell to his knees.

 Why? How could you? You killed him! I love you, please don’t do this. Please, no... Betrayer! You’re a weakling! Stand and fight like a man! Nii-san! Help me…  please help me…  someone.  Someone! Anyone!

The voices hammered at his mind, a hundred strong, every one trapped as they were calling out, pleading, dying.

“Hurry up, Kisuke,” he gritted out.  He didn’t know how much longer he could take it.  Gray was already encroaching on the edges of his vision.

The blond was busy finishing up whatever arcane crap he had to do, but he still managed to snark back at him.

“Youth. Always so impatient.” His voice was light and sing-song, but his face was transfixed on the gigai he was working on. “You must exercise restraint, Kurosaki-san. You can manage one more minute, can’t you. Just one more.”

Ichigo gritted his teeth against the disorienting feeling, and clung to the memory of Kisuke saying that to him before, holding him in his arms, carrying him to his bedroom, protecting him, the way he’d always protected him.

He loves you, you know. Shiba Shiori’s voice cut through the whispering roar. He thinks he’s protecting you.  Keeping you separate because separate is safe.  We did that with our family.  With our children.  We were wrong.

Ichigo rubbed his face. There were tears, squeezed out between tightly shut lids, and he could only suck in short panting breaths. He clenched his fists, trying to hold his body together against the strangling force of the Shiba power around his soul, and heard Kisuke’s voice.

“Focus your reiatsu, Kurosaki-san. Pull it tight into yourself.  Focus.” Strong arms lifted him to his feet and supported him as they brought the gigai next to him, and he looked around for Kisuke.

He was there, standing behind him.  His arms were the ones holding him up.  He always did that.  Maybe that’s why Ichigo wanted those arms around him all the time.

“Hey Kisuke.” It didn’t sound like his voice. “You know that hero worship thing you told me to get over?”

Kisuke’s grip tightened but he didn’t say anything.  

“This isn’t the way to convince me I’m wrong.” He coughed, and felt something suspiciously like blood on his lips. “Shiori says you’re wrong by the way.”

Kisuke grimaced, and Ichigo laughed a little.  Bastard was terrible with emotions. But that was okay. He loved him anyway.

“Is the gigai ready?” He gripped Kisuke’s hands so tightly he was surprised the blond wasn’t complaining. That wasn’t his way, though.

“Yes.  Are you?” Gray eyes bored into his and he thought, now or never.

“Always.  You know that.” He tried to smile, but his mouth wasn’t cooperating.

One of the hands holding him pulled back, and reappeared with a white handled tachi, a black tassel on the pommel and another symbol stamped on the side.

“I’m sorry, Ichigo,” Kisuke whispered, and then a white hot pain sliced through the world.

“You need to work on that.” Ichigo leaned in and pressed a kiss against his pale cheek, and let go.  He would convince him he was wrong later.

Much later.

***

“Sorry for the invasion, Shunsui,” Ichigo tried to push himself up from the cot Hanatarō had procured for him, but between his dad and Kisuke that idea was squashed pretty quickly. “But I get the impression that if we didn’t deal with this sooner rather than later, there wouldn’t have been as positive an outcome.”

Remembering the swirling chaos that had overcome him at the end still set his teeth on edge, and it would have happened whether he’d stayed in the living world or not.  It just would’ve taken longer for it to destroy him, and they might not have been able to help Shiori and the others.

“I have summoned the Miyake brothers as requested, but remember, the Kidō Corps is not actually under my jurisdiction.”

Yoruichi stepped forward. “Suì-Fēng has been informed of the charges being brought against them and will oversee this questioning.  I am certain that after all the facts are laid in front of her the the Commander-in-chief of the Onmitsukido will know what to do.”

When the Captain of the Second appeared, she had two tired looking Kidō Corps members in tow.

“I have brought the men as requested, Yoruichi-sama, Kyōraku Soutaichou, but I must insist on an explanation.  This is most irregular.”

Ichigo laughed and Isshin patted him on the shoulder.

“The assassination of a clan is quite…  irregular, indeed.”  His voice held none of its normal geniality, and Ichigo recognized the steel that was required for him to have achieved the rank of Captain of the Gotei 13.

“You’re saying that these two,” she pointed at the men who were now kneeling in front of Tessai, neither arguing or defending themselves, “killed the entire Shiba clan?”

“Well, their father started it, but yes.” Isshin stepped forward, his shihakushō, stark against the red in his neck and face. “Their father was proud to a fault.  He was convinced their ties to the Miyake samurai made them special, more honorable. More valuable.”

Ichigo hadn’t seen his father this upset since Aizen had been unmasked as a traitor.

“The truth was, that just made them vulnerable to Aizen, back when the bastard was setting his chessboard for taking over Soul Society. Tell me,” he spoke to the two men, “what did your father tell you?  That the Shiba had offended his honor in some way?  What?”

The two men barely turned their heads, but the larger of the two spoke.

“He was betrayed. The woman he loved, who had promised herself to him, was convinced to marry a Shiba instead. She humiliated him, and it was all for a Shiba.”

The second man moaned and dropped his head into his hands.  “Aizen….  Aizen told him that the Shiba were trying to destroy his honor. The honor of all of Soul Society.  He said they’d infiltrated the Gotei 13 to prevent law enforcement from being able to stop them, and that they were forcing women to marry into their clan against their will. Every sin against the soul was laid at their feet, with examples and proofs and a constant stream of inflammatory discourse until my father snapped.  He begged Aizen to let him help excise the cancer in Seireitei, to allow us to help, and Aizen was more than happy to agree.”

A hand reached out from one brother to the other, a clear attempt at comfort.

“It wasn’t until after,” the dark little man whose face had haunted so many of Ichigo’s nightmares looked like he was going to be sick, “after Aizen was defeated that the lies started to fade from our minds, and we became aware of what we had done as his puppets.”

They dropped their foreheads to the grass and prostrated themselves in front of the remaining Shiba.

“We have been living with the guilt of our actions since Aizen was defeated. Our father could not face himself after he realized that he had killed the very woman he’d loved, all because of his hurt pride and willingness to listen to Aizen’s lies.”

“Well, your family wasn’t alone in being fooled by Aizen,” Ichigo snorted. “The whole Central 46 paid for it, too.”

Kūkaku sucked on her pipe a little harder but didn’t say anything.  She didn’t have to.  Anger radiated from every line of her body, and Ichigo knew it was taking every ounce of her control to prevent her from pounding the two little men into so much Kidō Corps Dust.

“It makes sense in a way,” Kisuke said, his tone as noncommittal as ever. “The Shiba were the keepers of the gate to the Soul King’s palace.  If he could destroy the clan--or get someone else to do it for him--it would remove one more of the barriers to his end goal.”

Isshin’s fingers were so tight on Ichigo’s shoulder that he was certain he was going to have a bruise.

“How many did you kill.”

The brothers looked at each other and then back down at the ground.  

Ganju asked again, the pain in his voice undeniable. “How many did you kill?”

“I’m sorry.” The Miyake looked at him, shame in every line of their bodies. “It’s just that we don’t know for certain.  Our father was a madman.  He killed every Shiba he could get alone.  He slaughtered…  children.  My brother and I didn’t have his conviction. But from what he said, I would estimate twenty-four or five.”

A strange warbling voice piped up from behind them. “Thirty-one.”

Shunsui turned so quickly that his pink kimono flared. “Who’s there?”

A woman--or almost woman--stepped out from behind Tessai.  Her hair was long and black, pulled back in the style of many ages past.  Her face was smooth, but her eyes held the weight of age.

“Greetings, Kyōraku-Soutaichou,” she said, bowing deeply. “I am sorry to have interrupted, but the answer to the question Shiba Ganju-san asked is thirty-one.”

Shunsui took a few sliding steps towards the newcomer, and Ichigo could tell that he was trying to assess what or who the woman was.

“I am afraid you have me at a disadvantage,” he bowed low, a rakish smile offsetting the weighing glance. “You know my name, but I do not know yours.”

Kisuke moved forward and held a hand out to the woman. “This is, Shiba Shiori, and others, but Shiba-san is the strongest soul present in the gigai, so she is who the body attuned itself to.”

“A gigai?” Shunsui looked surprised. ��Why would one need a gigai here?”

It was a good question. Spirits had no limitations in Soul Society, but Shibas were always difficult like that.

“If I could ask Miyake-san one more question, it might make the explanation of the other factors of this situation a little clearer.”

The Soutaichou nodded his agreement, but Suì-Fēng frowned.  “I don’t need any more information.  These men have already admitted to mass murder, to the attempted destruction of a noble house.”

Kisuke hummed and the tiny woman vibrated with annoyance.  Ichigo had a little sympathy for her.  No one could annoy quite like Kisuke when he was in a mood.

“That is true, yes.” The blond had dragged his fan out from somewhere and was lazily waving it back and forth. “The devil is in the details, though. Miyake-san.  Would you please tell the Soutaichou how you committed these killings?”

The older man sat back into his seiza, back straight, eyes forward as if he was braced for what came next.

“Aizen gave my father a tachi. I believe he stole it from the armory of the Onmitsukido.  Nobody but the Punishment Corps has needs for that type of weapon.”

Shunsui stilled. “What type of weapon?”

“A Soul Stripping weapon.” The man seemed to collapse in on himself with the admission. “We didn’t just kill them.  We destroyed them.  Everything they were.  Everything that was Shiba.”

Shiori laughed, a tinkling bell-like laugh that hid the edge of a knife. “Such ego.  Your father had it, too.  He couldn’t believe that I would choose someone other than him to share my life with.  Couldn’t believe that his samurai legends wouldn’t be enough to lure a woman with twice his power into his bed.   The fool.”

She held her hands out, and the long blue sleeves of her kimono spread like wings. “He tried to destroy us, but he made the mistake of the egotistical.  He didn’t understand that he was dealing with a power greater than any of his samurai ancestors knew.  He was dealing with Shiba.  My husband was a good man.  Our clan--my clan--has honor and power even after being targeted so shamefully.”

Tessai raised a hand. “Soul Stripping was one of the kidō that I outlawed in my time as Commander of the Kidō Corps.  It was only to be used as the most extreme of punishments doled out by the Punishment Corps.  Aizen took advantage of his access and liberated a few of the spelled weapons, including the one he gave to Miyake Rin.”

Shunsui and Suì-Fēng  shared a look.  “Where is this weapon now?”

“It is buried in the courtyard behind the main house of the Miyake compound.  It has been buried there since my father killed himself with it.”

A low gasp was heard.  He’d killed himself and destroyed his own chance of reincarnation because he couldn’t face what he had done, leaving his two sons to live with both his death and their own dishonor.

Shiori spat on the ground. “Ever the coward.  Condemning his own children with his poison, and then taking the easy way out himself.”

Kūkaku walked over and stood shoulder to shoulder to the woman who wasn’t a woman. “You put it well.  He was a coward, and if destruction was what he wanted, then that was what he deserved.”

The two women looked so much alike it was uncanny, even with Kūkaku’s wooden arm and Shiori’s unnaturally still face. Ichigo tried to imagine what it would have been like coming to a Soul Society full of Shibas. It would have been a much different place.  He couldn’t imagine Rukia or the Visored being condemned to death.  He couldn’t imagine them putting up with a lot of things.  That was probably as much a reason why they’d been targeted as their role as gatekeepers.

“So, Aizen killed Kaien and Miyako, and then arranged the murders of all these other Shibas.” Ichigo watched the faces around him as he summed up what they were all thinking. “And since he’s back in Muken for another 20,000 years, that kind of puts a damper on the whole find the bad guy and punish him thing.”

The Miyake brothers were still kneeling in the center of the crowd, and Ichigo waved a hand in their direction.

“These guys weren’t even in their right minds when they were involved.  I mean, Aizen managed to screw with everyone’s brains even after we knew he was a bastard.  Two mid-range Kidō Corps members? They didn’t have a chance against him.”

Suì-Fēng looked outraged. “Are you out of your mind? They slaughtered a noble house!” She looked at the Soutaichou. “Surely you see they must be punished.”

Shunsui shifted his straw hat and looked at the surviving Shiba. “What do you all say?  Is Ichigo right?  Were they not responsible for their actions?”

For a moment Ichigo thought they were going to fight him, but in the end they didn’t disappoint.

“I once said that if the shinigami that killed my brother said one word of apology for their actions I would forgive them. She had much more control over her situation than you’ve had over yours.” Kūkaku chewed the end of her pipe and stared at the men on the ground at her feet.  “I don’t like it, and I can’t say I like you, but I don’t blame you. Aizen is to blame, and perhaps your father for being an easy target to begin with, but not you.”

Ganju frowned at his sister and thrust both hands in his pockets. “Killing you won’t bring them back. Just don’t ask for more than that from me.  I’m not as forgiving as she is.”

Isshin stood there. “I think I would like to hear what Shiba Shiori-san has to say.”

The gigai turned to him and bowed before answering.

“We Shiba fight.  Face to face. With honor.  Killing you would bring no honor.  You are weak, but you are not our enemy.  Aizen is our enemy.  I look forward to the say that his soul is scattered to the ends of creation so that the Universe can make something better of the power he has wasted.”

“So,” the Soutaichou arranged his cherry blossom kimono carefully, “it seems to me that without the Shiba clan calling for blood, we really don’t have anything to pursue.”

Sui-Feng looked like she could bite through nails.  Ichigo expected her to stomp her foot in anger. “As Soutaichou you have to…”

Shunsui cut her off. “As Soutaichou, I have to follow the laws handed down to me by Central 46, and do what I believe is right in situations where there is no clear law in place. And, as far as I am aware, you are not in a position to contradict me, Taichou.”

The Captain of the Second clenched her fists and inclined her head. “As you say, Soutaichou.”

Yoruichi sauntered over to the younger woman and put a long arm around her shoulders.

“Come along Little Bee,” she said, steering her protege away from the group with a smile. “Let us spar like we used to.  I will let you exorcise some of your blood lust.”

She took two steps forward. “But you have to catch me first.”

Yoruichi disappeared in a flit of shunpo, and after a second of being clearly torn between staying and arguing with Kyōraku Soutaichou and chasing after her mentor, she gave into the inevitable and shunpo’d away as well.

The Miyake brothers stood shakily, and wiped tears from their faces.

“We can never undo the damage we have done to the Shiba.  We know that.   Your decision to allow us our continued freedom is worlds beyond anything we had a right to hope for.”

Kūkaku turned her pipe over and knocked the ash out against the heel of her sandal violently. “If you make a fuss about it, we might change our minds. It’s best if you just accept it and move on.  I don’t want to stew in this sorry pot of misery any more than I already have, and I can’t believe any of the others do, either.”

Shunsui motioned the men to stand next to him.  “I will escort these two back to their compound and retrieve the sword they described.” He tilted his head in a nod to Tessai.  “I agree that such a thing should not be easily accessed.  Or accessed at all.  But that is a question for another day.”

He turned to Kisuke. “Will Shiba Shiori-san be staying with us?  Or perhaps returning to the living world?”

Ichigo snorted.  The man was a terrible manipulator.  He quite admired that about the new Soutaichou.  It made the maze of Seireitei much easier to navigate.

“Shiba Shiori-san has graciously agreed to allow me to konso her and the other souls with her. Tessai-san and I have altered the kidō necessary and we believe it will free them all to enter into the reincarnation cycle.  They are Shiba, but some of them have been tied in a loop of suffering for fifty years now.  They are tired and wish to find peace.”

The Soutaichou bowed deeply to the Shiba-spirit entity. “In that case, please allow me to say that it has been a pleasure knowing you.  You have proven yourself to be as noble and as honorable as I know the Shiba to be.”

When he left, the gigai allowed itself to sag a little, and Kisuke led it to a low chair. “Is the reishi getting to you Shiba-san?”

The dark head nodded. “I am beginning to feel my grip slipping.  I believe that if we are to make the konso successful, we need to do it now.  I’m not sure I will be able to free the others if we wait any longer.”

Tessai stepped forward and handed Kisuke the white tachi, and with a minimum of fuss and a maximum of gentleness he touched the pommel to the gigai’s chest, right over where he had inserted the reishūkaku. And then, the gigai lost its features, sliding back into the blank slate it began as.

Shiba Shiori and the others were free.

Ichigo wasn’t ashamed to admit his eyes weren’t dry, but then no one else’s were either.

***

“Hey!  Can someone come hold the door for a minute?  My arms are full!”

Kisuke heard Ururu’s light steps as she ran for the back door. “Kurosaki-kun!” She sounded excited.  She had missed Ichigo. “I didn’t know you were coming.  Urahara-san didn’t mention it.”

Ichigo pushed in through the open door, a box in his arms, and toed off his shoes in the genkin. “I didn’t tell him. It was a surprise.”

A surprise?  It most certainly was.  After the trip back through the senkaimon Ichigo had collapsed, the exhaustion of it all finally catching up with him, but he’d headed home the next day and Kisuke had settled in to re-accustom himself to a quiet Shōten without Kurosakis and Shibas and even Shihōins for a while.

“Are you going to hold the door for your old man, Ichigo, or just leave me out here on the step like yesterday’s trash?”

Isshin’s voice boomed through the partially open door, and Kisuke’s eyes widened.  What were they both doing here?  Was something wrong with Ichigo again?

“Kurosaki-san,” he said lightly, coming around the corner to see the two men and Ururu wrestling with two bags and a large box. “Have you had a setback in your recovery?  I have sent Tessai-san out for a few things, but he should be returning any time now and can run another diagnostic scan of the wound pathways.  If we haven’t managed to seal them properly, we can try…”

“Oh yeah, Tessai knew I was coming.  He said he’d pick up pork for two more, since Goat Face was helping me bring some things over and we’d be here for dinner.”

Tessai knew Ichigo was coming and was making extra dinner.  That was…  unexpected.

“And just what are these things you’ve brought?” he asked, trying to figure out what was happening.

“Oh books, clothes, my computer…  you know, regular things.”

Ichigo carried his box down the hallway past Kisuke’s room until he reached a little store room at the end of the hall.

“I’m afraid I am still at a loss, Kurosaki-san.” He followed Ichigo into the small room only to realize that it had been cleaned out and a single futon folded in the corner.  Apparently Tessai had kept more than just today’s extra dinner shopping from him.

“Don’t try to argue with him, Kisuke.  You know what he’s like when he gets hold of something. You can’t change his mind no matter how hard you try.”

The blond looked at Isshin who had come up behind him and shook his head in confusion. “I am familiar with Kurosaki-san’s…”

“Ichigo’s.” The redhead interrupted.

“I’m sorry?” he asked, flustered.

“My name.  Ichigo.  You’ve used it before.  No sense in stopping now.” He turned back to the room, stacking his few things on a low table against the wall. “I’m going to have to get a rod to hang my clothes on.  I’m terrible with an iron.  Easier if I just hang things out of the dryer.”

Isshin made a noncommittal noise. “I don’t know.  A rod takes up a lot of room.  It isn’t like you’re going to have to iron much.  You only brought two pairs of trousers.  The rest are jeans and t-shirts, and even Yuzu doesn’t iron those.”

Kisuke pinched himself.  No.  Not dreaming. Maybe he was having a stroke.

Ichigo caught a glimpse of the look on his face and took pity on him.

“Kisuke, it’s like this.” He moved to stand in front of the taller man. “Last year when I told you I had feelings for you, you made it very clear that I should get over my case of hero-worship before I came back. So, I have.”

Isshin had dropped the two bags he was carrying in the corner and slid past the others standing in the doorway. He patted Kisuke on the shoulder as he passed and gave him a look of commiseration.

“You have?” Kisuke latched on to the last thing Ichigo had said.

“Yup,” the young man nodded. “Totally over the hero-worship thing.”

Kisuke felt oddly disheartened by that.  He’d wanted Ichigo to move on, he just didn’t realize how even just hearing the words would hurt.

“So, I am assuming you’re looking for a room to rent and Tessai has volunteered the Shōten?”

He hated feeling like he was missing something, but he definitely felt like he was missing something.

Ichigo moved closer and Kisuke imagined he could feel the warmth of him even at that distance.

“Not really,” he said, his voice a little softer.  “It’s true that I’m over the hero-worship thing, but that’s only part of what I felt for you.  A year hasn’t made that go away.  Hasn’t faded it at all, actually.  And, to top it off, this last catastrophe just reminded me how time can be stolen from us in the most bizarre ways.  I don’t intend to let that happen to me.  To us.”

Ururu appeared in the doorway with another small box, and Ichigo took it with thanks and put it on the table with the other things, before turning back to him. His expression was wide open, and Kisuke could see the intensity there, the sheer determination to make him understand, and he shivered a little at knowing he was that important to this amazing man.

“I know you.” Ichigo looked him in the eye until he had to look away. “Not Urahara Kisuke the hero. Not someone I’ve stuck up on a pedestal. Just you.  Urahara Kisuke mad scientist, shinigami, and handsome candy store owner.  And you know what?  I love you.  So, until you convince me that I’ve made a mistake, or I convince you that you’re wrong to not give us a chance, I’m moving in.  I’ve arranged with Tessai to pay rent, and I am on the chore schedule for dinner twice a week and whatever random errands need to be run. I don’t intend to push you, and if it becomes clear I’m not wanted, I am reasonable enough to understand.  I know that just because they labeled me savior of three worlds, doesn’t mean I appeal to everyone.”

Kisuke’s mind was spinning.  He couldn’t mean this.  Moving in?  His father would kill them.

“Isshin, surely you…” he started but the older Kurosaki cut him off.

“I told you.  You can’t reason with him when he gets this way.  He could give stubborn lessons to a mule.”

Kisuke laughed in spite of himself.  “Typical Shiba, hmm?”

Isshin shook his head. “Shiba?  No way.  This is Kurosaki through and through.  Masaki could make a grown man weep with frustration when she got an idea in her head, and did, on more than one occasion.”

“So… you’re alright? With this?” He waved a hand at the room, and the boxes, unable to find the words.

“Kisuke,” the big man was serious for once. “I have watched you save Ichigo’s life. I think I can trust you with his heart.” Then he patted the blond enthusiastically on the back and grinned. “Plus, as an older more experienced lover you can teach him a few things in the bedroom I’m sure.  I will have to buy a nice big bottle of that lovely almond oil Masaki used to…”

Ichigo moved between them and punched him. He laughed.

“My son! So strong in defense of his love! Your mother would be so proud.” He winked at Kisuke and then turned back to Ichigo in time to ward off another right hook. “I think that was everything you wanted to bring over.  Send me a text if you’ve forgotten anything.” He tried to hug the redhead, but he just got a friendly cuff on the ear for his efforts.

“Thanks Goat Face,” Ichigo said, and he clearly meant it.  “Tell the girls I’ll be back for dinner on Saturday, okay?”

Isshin agreed and let himself out, with a loud, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

And then it was quiet.

As soon as the door closed, Ichigo lost some of his bluster. “Look. I know this seems sudden, but after the whole thing with Shiori... I needed to take this chance.   Do you remember when I first came back? It was crazy. I was so miserable, but walking through that door, listening to you talking to Tessai, hell, sleeping in blankets that smelled like you…  I realized I hadn’t been that happy in a year.  I don’t want to go another year denying what I feel.  If that makes you uncomfortable, if you truly can’t see a future together, I’ll take my gear and go.”  He laughed a little sheepishly. “That’s why I only brought one box of books.”

Kisuke looked at the little room, and then back to the man in front of him. It was time to stop hiding.

“I sent you away once. I told myself it was for your own good, but it was still the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”  He leaned in and dropped the lightest of kisses on Ichigo’s lips, letting him feel how just that little act left him breathless and shaky. He stepped back and looked down into wide amber eyes. “I think we can make room for a few more boxes of books. Ichigo.”

Ichigo’s smile blazed at the sound of his name, and he slid his arms loosely around Kisuke’s waist. “That’s good.  I have a lot of books.  It may take some time to move them all in.”

Kisuke kissed him again and pressed their foreheads together, his heart more at peace than it had ever been.  “That’s okay.  We have time.”

[spiritgriffon]

Happy Halloween! Here’s a spooky Fire Emblem fic!

Title: 31 Days of Hell on Archanea

Author: Rachael D.J AKA  LeopardGal6

Pairing: Ogma/Navarre, Marth/Caeda

Genre: Horror, (Dark) Humor, Romance, Hurt/Comfort

Chapters: 3 of ???

Warnings: Zombie guts everywhere, dark humor

Words: 3824 for chapters 1-3

Summary: Five years after the costly war between worlds ended, peace has returned to Archanea. But when a blood moon rises over the land for 31 days, ancient terrors begin to roam the lands and those once considered dead rise again! Along the way lies dark temptations, a second chance at lost love, unethical experiments, one gloomy ghost that simply will -not- pass on, and Entirely Too Many Zombies! Enter... if you dare!

Rating: M

Read it on FFN and Ao3

“You have a lot of nerve.”

Ogma gave the unwelcome man standing at the foot of the bed his best I’ve-killed-a-lot-of-people-and-you-know-it glare, sorely tempted to revisit his old ways. Waking up at an ungodly hour of the morning with a man standing in his room would have been unpleasant no matter the person. A stranger would have likely meant an assassin or robber- messy, but easily dealt with. An old friend like the little prince- no, king now- would have meant extra work at best and reopening old wounds at worst. There may have been one person he’d have been glad to see, once, who had strolled into his bedchamber with the first morning light, left hand full of flowers, fresh bandages in her right and smile more radiant than the sun, but that little girl had become a woman and then that woman had died, many long years ago.

And yet, there was likely not one person in this world or any other he’d have wanted to break into his house and watch him sleep less than Navarre.

Ogma felt his brow crease as his scowl deepened. The tall man’s dark hair hid enough of his pale face that he seemed to melt into the shadowed doorway, the other edge of his frame blurred in the low light- yet his expensive crimson tunic seemed to glow against the blackness, making him unmistakable. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

Navarre didn’t immediately respond, yet he turned the white shadow of his face directly towards the other man’s. Ogma felt a shiver go down his spine despite himself- Navarre gave off an eerie presence at the best of times, and his hidden eyes gave the illusion of being faceless.

But the man’s next words were far more chilling than anything his imagination could have cooked up.

“You know me?”

Navarre’s voice was quiet, barely a whisper, yet his low baritone seemed to brush across Ogma’s bare skin like a draft. Ogma pulled his blanket close and stood, floor creaking heavily under his weight, yet his legs were unwilling to bring his body a single step closer to the mass of utter Wrongness that stood at the foot of his bed.

A sudden gust of autumn wind chose that moment to slam into the side of his cabin- his bedroom shudders thudding against the side of the building with such force that the entire wall groaned. Ogma started, wincing at the sudden blast of cold. He took a step to shut the window but when he turned, the younger man stood bare inches from his face.

Ogma did not jump back as his reflexes were tempted to do, but sucked in a sudden breath, pure ice filling his lungs. His first thought was that he did not know this man. Despite the oddly persisting blurriness that seemed to greaten with the closeness rather than falter, he could tell that these were not his old rival’s eyes.

Navarre’s eyes always shone cold and hard, every bit as threatening as his blade. On the incredibly rare occasion the man’s guard lowered as far as he would ever allow it, when you could see the ghost of pain in his expression and hear the involuntary shudder in his breath,  the threat in his face changed to a perhaps even more dangerous “Don’t you dare pity me.” But who or what stood before him was an entirely different creature, all vulnerability and want and more fearful than he’d ever have guessed possible for that man’s stern face to display.

The man spoke again, rivulets of electric ice running across Ogma’s skin as he did so.

“Who am I?”

Ogma opened his mouth to reply, but the room spun violently for an instant and a blinding flash filled his vision-

Ogma blinked blearily at the morning sun. He groaned and pulled his blanket closer against the morning chill- just a dream. Nightmares were hardly unheard of for him, but rarely of such an eerie nature. He threw his cover off and sat up with a hearty thwack! as his head hit the underside of his bedside table. Ogma let out a guttural curse as he rubbed his forehead.

“Please, don’t incapacitate yourself again.”

Ogma felt his blood freeze at the low, scornful whisper. He leapt to his feet and looked around furiously for the source of the voice- the telltale shadow shifting in the corner allowing him to notice the red blur concealed within. Ogma stared at the corner as his mind attempted to make logical sense of what he saw, as the illusory figure seemed to look not back at, but through him, judgmentally.

“Tell me now, who am I?”

It was a bloodbath.

Medeus was a ferocious threat, all on his own- but none could have predicted Gharnef using the last of his power to rip open the barrier between dimensions as his final bid for victory. The then prince Marth had reacted far better than any man could be expected to, filling in his commanders (what Gharnef had destroyed was known as a Outrealm Gate, the same kind that once allowed access to Zenith,)  and redirecting his troops without pause, but there was nothing anyone could have done to stop the thousands, perhaps millions of beasts flooding into Archanea without sacrifices.

The prince was not someone capable of making such a call- anyone who knew the prince for a day could tell that much. However, there were those among his most trusted who were unafraid to lay down their lives for their prince’s cause.

Tiki’s ancient ceremony to temporarily gather the power of the Outrealms in a physical form- it was enough, in the end, to quell the fighting. To save the world.

And the prince was just naive enough not to ask if it would cost the lives of his companions to complete.

Ogma was a simple man. He was not unintelligent in any way- his life had taught him tactics, mathematics, and everything necessary for survival and then after the war, living comfortably. It would not be inaccurate to say he was more knowledgeable than most, despite his illiteracy. But he detested complexities- things such as politics, adventure, romance and religion had brought him nothing but stress. If the world outside his workshop was unpleasant, then he had no desire to bring it into his life.

And that was why, even if Navarre had no ill intentions and was truly in need of help, Ogma found the most complex, stressful, unpleasant and utterly irritating person he’d ever had the misfortune to meet walking back into his life again after disappearing for five whole years… grating.

“Tell me now, who am I?” Navarre demanded.

As if he had the right to demand anything! Ogma stood, unashamed of his unclothed state. Ogma would not be talked down to by anyone, especially this man, even literally. Navarre had always been the more modest of the two- if it flustered him, even better.

Ogma crossed his arms. “Did you loose your memory?”

“I asked you a question.”

“Same here.”

“Who am I, to you?”

“The man I’m about to throw out of my house.”

Navarre let out a low, frustrated growl. Ogma forced back a smirk- everything between the two was a contest, always. Ogma wouldn’t give any more than he was given- they’d lost the delicate balance, the last year before everything went to hell, but it was there once and Ogma had always had confidence they could find it again.

Navarre had told him he’d given up on doing so some time ago, but he didn’t remember that at the moment, did he?

“You’re a guest in my house- either get your attitude in order and step out of the shows so I can see you or get out,” Ogma challenged. In the few seconds of charged silence, he could feel the hairs on his arms stand on end.

The crimson blur shifted. “You will tell me who I am.”

“Wrong answer.” In a move swifter that his bulky form looked appeared to be able to move, Ogma vaulted over the corner of the bed and thrust his hand into the shadow. His fist connected with the wooden wall loudly and painfully, and Ogma swore colorfully. Navarre was far faster than him, he knew that much, yet the element of surprise was on his side. By all logical reason, he should have been able to grab Navarre’s coat and throw him into the street.

Ogma’s brain felt the equivalent of a clock with a broken gear, pressure building as he strained to understand what he saw. Navarre had simply… gone through the wall, as if he had no substance at all. Ogma looked, slack-jawed, out the nearby window, and sure enough, Navarre lay sprawled on the dirt outside. Navarre stood and walked up to the window-

And through the window.

Ogma scrambled backwards and fell heavily onto the bed as the corner connected with the backs on his knees. “Gods! Gods above! What manner of beast are you?”

In the sunlight, Ogma could see the figure for what he truly was- completely translucent, the dust motes in the air phasing through Navarre without disturbance. He left not even a shadow on the room. Navarre raised his hand and looked down at it with an irritated scowl.

“I can remember neither who nor what I am- but from what I can gather, I was assumed dead?” Navarre raised his glowing silver gaze to meet Ogma’s own startled one. “I come to find that assumption… increasingly likely.”

“My name is Navarre, family name unknown. I am a mercenary and a former general in the army led by the man that now is the undisputed king of these lands. I had an apprentice but neither wife nor children. Before joining the military, I was known as ‘The God of Death…’ ”

Ogma poked at his cooking bacon sullenly. He had work to do today, and that didn’t include babysitting an amnesiac monster. “You’re an ass too, don’t forget that bit,” he muttered quietly.

“You there. You! None of this sounds familiar in the least.”

“I have a name. It’s not ‘You.’ ”

“Are you lying to me?”

Ogma flipped his meat and grit his teeth. “Everything I told you about Navarre is true. I have no clue if you’re him or a terror wearing his skin, though.”

“That is entirely possible. Do you consider it likely?”

Ogma felt his throat clench as he turned his head. Navarre- or whatever was taking his form- sat not in a chair but on thin air, legs crossed and one shin halfway inside the table. Ogma swallowed. “Can’t you sit on a chair like a decent person?”

“No, I cannot touch it. Answer my question.”

“You act just like him,” he answered morosely.

“Hmm.”

Ogma felt… heavy. He’d never told anyone, of course, but there was more than one night he’d bent his knee to a higher power and begged Naga to let him see his old friends again. The group that had gone to the dragon’s altar with Tiki- Navarre, Caeda, Cain, Abel, and Draug- had never truly been found, dead or alive. There had been blood and bits of armor and clothing left at the scene, sure, but they’d never found anything that completely proved that the entire group had died beyond Ogma’s deepest doubts. He’d never reasonably thought he’d see them again, not after nearly six years had passed, but a small part of him had still hoped.

But not like this- not as an incorporeal creature that he could not touch and hold, not as a fractured man that held so little ties to his old self that he balked as his own name. Ogma felt heavy with guilt that he’d ever asked for Navarre to come back.

And though he’d never admit it, even more so for being disappointed that the one to return to him wasn’t his beloved princess.

Navarre turned his head towards the window, a thoughtful expression on his face, his long hair trailing out around him weightlessly.  He really was beautiful- the sun catching on his cheekbones and long lashes illuminating the gentle curves of his long face. He’d always looked like he didn’t quite fit into the mortal world- like he was a marble statue that had come to life and was disappointed in every bit of the filthy humanity he saw. He’d laughed one drunken night, when he’d told Ogma how it had hurt when the people of the town he’d grown up in had feared he was a god of death taking the form of a child, how he’d reclaimed the name years later to help his career as a mercenary, how doing so had made him feel powerful. He’d asked Ogma that night how anyone could have seen him as a creature of the underworld when he was only a plain man, and Ogma had looked into his eyes and replied “Ridiculous,” even though he saw the same thing those scared peasants had seen, he could barely picture the man slumped against his shoulder as human himself. Ogma couldn’t tell him the truth was that Navarre could be as otherworldly and eerie as he’d like and it would make Ogma see him as no less than he did now, that he’d still be beautiful in his eyes, because that was the wrong answer and it would hurt Navarre more than a sword through the gut ever would. Navarre lay his head against his shoulder and Ogma had thought that Navarre was intoxicated enough that he’d gotten away with the lie, but then Navarre had disappeared into the night after Medeus was slain without a word, and when next they’d met Navarre with more than half-mad with anger, voice breaking as he’d hissed how they were the same.

Ogma couldn’t bear to look at the man’s face any longer. He gazed down at his nearly charred breakfast with a solemn frown. The day was showing no signs of getting better.

Marth, holy king of the continent of Archenea, heir to the divine blade Falchion and last living son of the bloodline of Anri the Great, was scared of few things. He’d seen too much, felt too much, bled for king and country and precious companions far too many times. He’d lost all he could not bare to lose and more- there was very little left in this world for him to fear.

That said, he held very little love for the basement of Archanea Palace. Marth pulled his cape tightly around his torso as he made his way through the dreary halls- perhaps he’d get the thing lined with fur one of these days. It was very important that such a powerful man look that part in all but his bedchamber- he had to set an example for all his people at all times.

“I don’t care. I want a coat! A fuzzy one!”

Feena, damn her, had said “No. That’s not in fashion,” and turned on her heal to leave.

For the supposedly most powerful man on the continent, Marth felt he had very little control over his subjects. Or maybe just Feena. Probably just Feena.

Not that he would ever want to have a meek, spineless sycophant for a consort- but some more respect would be nice! It wasn’t as if her position was so utterly solidified that she was forever beyond replacement. She liked pretty princess dresses and shiny jewels and fancy dinner parties with stuffy royals and being able to dance for the people of Palace City without threats of rape from every depraved nobleman with two coins to rub together. Marth liked the fact the she openly admitted that she did not love him and swore to ask for no more than she gave (and promised to get him out of as many obnoxious state dinners as he asked. That was a good bonus.) Feena had no interest in leading the people in any more that fashion trends, and Marth liked being able to rule his people without an inexperienced noble's daughter he barely knew as his right hand. It was a good deal for both of them, but if Marth wanted to, he could kick her out in a second. He wouldn’t actually do it in reality, and Feena knew that, the sly girl, but Marth allowed himself his dark thoughts as slimy, smelly ceiling water dripped on his exposed head. Marth wrinkled his nose. “Next time she wants something out of the vault she can get it herself,” Marth said aloud.

“Don’t kid yourself,” said a voice from far, far too close to the king’s face.

Marth let out a noise that he assured himself was a very manly shout.

Much to the girl's credit, she didn’t laugh.“You’re too much of a gentleman for that and you know it,” Kris said, stepping into the candlelight. “Did I startle you, my liege?”

Marth crossed his arms. “What do you think? And I told you to call me-”

She bowed her head. “I apologize,” she interrupted, as she always did when he tried to get his friend to call him by his given name. She raised her head, a sly smile on her lips. “This is what my lady requested, is it not?” she asked. She held out the jewel-encrusted golden bangle.

“Yes. Kris, you’ve saved my life again.”

“Nonsense! I did no such thing, my liege.”

“Are you saying that I lie?” he growled quietly.

“Wha- I... No, I- I mean-”

Marth ruffled the sputtering girl’s hair. “I’m teasing you, Kris. I’m the one with the weight of the world on my shoulders, you should lighten up!”

“I think it is inappropriate for my liege to torment his servants,” Kris grumbled.

Marth swung his arm around Kris’ shoulders. “And I think my lady would do well to grow a sense of humor.”

“Right away, my liege.”

As the two walked back, Marth’s arm slid off Kris’ shoulder and he intertwined his fingers with hers. He smiled- there were few left among the living he could count as true a friend as Kris. He did not love her any more than he loved Feena, but there were not infrequent times when he wished he’d successfully convinced his general to join him beyond the court as well.

She’d told him that he should wait until he found love again to take a consort, not to settle for a friend. Marth dearly wished he could have taken that advice, but it was impossible to do.  He was a king before he was a man, and though the love of his life was dead, he’d eventually need an heir. Such was his fate.

“How is your research progressing, Kris?”

“Quite well.  Lord Merric is making decent headway into translating the ancient tome.”

“The one Queen Celica brought back from Thabes?”

“Yes, the one than cost us half of Altea’s wheat crop,” Kris said sourly.

Marth sighed. “The Valentinians were in the midst of a drought, we were not. I am aware the cost was higher than its worth, but it was more an excuse to send aid that the counsel would allow than an actual trade. We've been over this,” he said pointedly.

“She found it on Archanean soil. There’s a reason some call her the Thief Queen.”

“Kris, I’m quite sure you’re the only one that- hold. The torches have all gone out twenty feet ahead.”

Marth released Kris’ hand to reach for his hidden blade- one couldn’t be too cautious, even in one’s own castle. “Is someone there?”

Footsteps- not steady at all, drunken and dragging roughly across the stone. The torchlight behind them flickered on something ahead, then-

“My liege! My lady!”

Marth released his blade’s hilt with a sigh of relief. “Wrys, old friend. Why did you put out the lights?”

The old man’s head glinted. “I was down here looking for some mana herbs- quite potent medicine they make, you know. And impossible to grow on a farm, yes, quite tricky. Where was I? Ah, yes, I was down here looking for herbs when the lights went out and I became terribly lost. It is quite drafty down here and-”

Marth was only half listening when the old man let loose an ungodly scream and fell fully into the light, bleeding from his arm.

“Wrys! Kris, take care of him!” he shouted, grabbing his dagger.

“Aye!”

Marth saw it again, the golden glint of metal. Marth stepped forward, and quickly stabbed  above Wrys’ prone from, his blade easily meeting its mark. He twisted and pulled, a horrid wet sound echoing as he eviscerated the attacker. Marth kicked the body back into the darkness, the feeling of the attacker's ruptured intestines rubbing along his hand as they fell making Marth really wish he’d brought something a bit longer. Marth flicked his blade. “Hang on, Wrys. I’ll get you to the in-”

Marth’s breath was knocked out of his lungs as he fell, painfully. The attacker had an iron grip on his sword hand, and Marth felt an incredible pressure around his neck. In less than ten seconds, a blinding flash of light and heat blasted the assailant off of him with an unpleasant squelch.

“On your guard, Kris! There’s likely more of them.”

“No, that…”

Kris looked as if she’d seen a ghost, and did not raise her tome.

“What is it?”

“That was the same… woman…”

Marth picked a bloody tooth out of his damaged pauldron. It was a good thing Feena had convinced him to march around the castle in full battle armor. For once. Even a broken clock was right twice a day, he supposed. “What do you mean, the same woman?”

Kris had no time to warn him- her eyes grew wide as Wrys whispered “Oh dear,” and Marth whirled on the threat.

The thing that was once human was back on its (her?) feet somehow, shambling towards them. She was still on fire and missing an arm (and logically a few teeth, though Marth wasn’t close enough to see which ones, not that he particularly wanted to know,) and the hole Marth had made in her gut continued dripping foulness. The only part of her that looked as if it should still be functioning was a mask- polished stone, or perhaps metal, with a repeated eyeball pattern yet no actual eye holes- only a joint for the grinning mouth.

For a horrible moment, the three were frozen in fear.

Wrys’ shouted “Oh dear!” broke the spell and the young king grabbed each of his companions by the arm and dragged them through the darkness as quickly as his panicked feet would allow. Marth later heard that the screams could be heard throughout the castle- and that he’d accidentally grabbed Wrys by the bad arm.

[some-rfa-imagines]

NOTE:THIS POST IS VERY IMPORTANT. PLEASE READ IT

*eternal screaming into the void* *muffled mumbling* *blushy blushy* HOW DID I MISS THIS AM I JUST ONE OF THE MOST OBLIVIOUS PEOPLE ON THE PLANET WHAT THANK YOU SO MUCH??????? I DONT KNOW WHAT ELSE TO SAY

Okay but now i feel bad can someone else come tell me if you’re super oblivious to things too i don’t wanna be alone I’m too young ill get lost in the grocery store

things will go wrong trust me i need to bE guIded or I wILL dIE

sorry i love gifs okay leave me alone pls

ANYWAY BACK TO THE PURPOSE OF THIS POST OTHER THAN TO SAY ALL OF YOU ARE AMAZING AND BEAUTIFUL AND DESERVE ALL THE LOVE IN THE WORLD

Okay, so because of this, I’m going to be hosting a little fic thing. I need you all to send me one character from the list below. I also have a very small list of groups of about three prompts and one for pairs of AUs so choose a number/letter~! ALSO, CHOOSE WHETHER I WRITE MYSELF IN. I’m tempted to but it might be better if i don’t.

 It’ll go until the end of February FOR AUSTRALIA (aka the 28th for this side of the planet and the 27th for the other side of the planet i think thats how it works) say, 12 am on 28th->1st?? idk i’ll post something when it ends.

-

P.S. some of these prompts and such have been found on the internet somewhere bc I lost my own list T_T

P.P.S You might notice further down that there’s options for Saeyoung & 707 as well as Saeran & Unknown. This is because I am willing to write for Saeyoung - where he is a little more serious in comparison to 707 where he jokes a lot. They’ll both be joking and stuff but Saeyoung just a bit less. This is the same for Unknown/Saeran - Saeran will be a little more timid and Unknown will be… well, how he is. I don’t mean to give out too many spoilers, but if you’ve played to the end (or at least Seven’s After End) then you might know what I’m talking about.

-

HOW VOTING WILL WORK:

I’ll be judging the voting by four categories.

- Character

- Prompts

- AUs

- M/W/M/I

Basically, whichever character gets the most votes will win that category, whichever group of prompts gets the most votes will win in that category and whichever AU gets the most votes will win in that category.

M/W/M/I is where you either vote ‘Yes’ or ‘No’. (It stands for ‘me writing myself in’). Very simple really. If any of them get even amounts of votes, I’ll get my sister to decide or something.

 okay enough rambling, here’s the lists

CHARACTERS:

- Yoosung

- Zen

- Jaehee

- Jumin

- Saeyoung

- 707

- V

- Saeran

- Unknown

- Vanderwood (I can’t promise anything good)

- Elizabeth 3rd (lololol lets see how this one plays out)

- Rika (????? maybe before she met V????? Idk?????)

PROMPTS:

1. “Who the hell are you and why is my favourite book in a puddle of orange juice.”, “Are you trying to flirt with me?” “This is a lot harder than it looks and I don’t think you realise that.”, “That’s the lamest pick up line I’ve ever heard of.” “Damn. Well, it was just plan A.” “And what’s plan B…?” “To take you hostage.”

2 . “What the fuck did they do to you in that lab?” “Ehhh, needles, comas, that deep freeze thing in the first room, shoving these onto my back. Oh also they forced me to eat soggy bread.”, “Love, you underestimate how much food I can shove in my mouth before I need to be stopped.”, “okay so why did you have to smash that vase again” “I DIDN’T MEAN TO IT GOT IN THE WAY” 

3 (matches = a). “Welcome to my treasure trove.” “There’s a sword.” “Yeah.” “wHY DO YOU HAVE A SWORD.”, “Love, I’ve done this before. Every hundred years. For seventeen millenniums.’, “WHAT DID YOU DO TO (THEM)?!”

4 (matches = e). “Are… Who are these people? They- They look like me…”, “So, what do you want for dinner?” “I’m thinking Italian. Like an Italian.” “BABE.”, “Oooh, look at the detail on that mirror.” “Okay by now you’re just messing with me and you can stop.”

5 (matches = g). “Okay, I know I’m idiotic to get lost in a corn maze but who the fuck are you and why are you apparently as idiotic as I am.”, “I was on my way to buy that soul for Satan, who do you think you are. You can’t do that.” “I’m sure you know who I am.” “Huh…? Oh, fuck.”, “I swear to god, my little sister will kill me when I get home.” “Bit rude to swear to God right now, don’t you think?” “Oops -,-”

6 (matches = c). “Fuck I’m going to die. Damn” “YOU DEFINITELY WILL IF YOU DRINK THAT.”, “You know you can’t bring (them), Your Highness, (they’ll) be used against you.”, “Don’t hold me responsible, I wasn’t even there.” “Yeah but you gave me the idea.” “You know what, fuck you.”

7 (matches = f). “The fuck did you say they put on my gravestone?!”, “Honey, I don’t care if you’re the fucking queen or an uncooperative cat, get off your ass and live your life you trash bag.”, “hey, calm down, please, oh god okay, calm aura, calm aura, please stop freaking out, calm down, it’s okay, you can do this.”

AUs:

a (matches 3). ‘You’re suspicious of the legends. You know, those legends. Everyone knew about them. The ones about the dragons in the hills.’, ‘Who are you and why are you holding a sword to my throat. SHIT WHERE’D YOU GO I’M GOING TO GET ASSASSINATED AREN’T I.’ - (Shapeshifter AU?)

b. ‘There was another thunderstorm tearing through your village. Which OTPs were clashing this time and what got the angels so agitated with each other??? How badly did they ship these people…’, ‘Why’d you have to smile at me like that, I couldn’t even concentrate on your order oh god I’m blushing why am I so fLUSTERED.’ - (Ship wars in Heaven/coffee shop AU?)

c (matches = 6). ‘Fuck why did you have to be the one to join me on this mission you do realise that it’s dangerous and they don’t care whether we die or not’, ‘Okay so I love you and all, but why the fuck did you have to start a universal war they’re going to kill you- yes, I know you’re undercover when you fight but you’re still a dead (queen/king) walking I hope you know.” - (War between two universes/undercover queen/king as a spy AU?)

d. ‘You smiled, taking a quick photo of the (colour)-haired (gender). The light was pretty on the water, sure. But (they) seemed to be ethereal against it all.’, ‘”Edit photos taken today” and “lunch at (favourite cafe) at 2 w/ (BFF’s name)” was scrawled messily on your arm, the ink from the pen fading in and out as you had written it in a rush. You ran into your favourite cafe, stopping to run a hand through your hair. Looking around, you tried to spot your best friend when you saw it. Your own handwriting, on someone else’s arm.’ - (Amateur Photographer/Soulmate writing AU?)

e (matches =  4). ‘Your eye caught the (colour)ed ones from across the room. (They were) cute oh god, no, no, no, don’t betray me like this. You squeezed your eyes shut, grabbing a lock of your hair. Opening your eyes very slowly your eyes widened. Great. Pink.’, ‘Blood dripped down (their) chin. You knew (they were) a vampire. You knew (they) needed blood. But it was a little offensive when (they) drank from others.’ - (Vampire/Hair-changing-colour-to-match-emotions AU?)

f (matches = 7). ‘You couldn’t really explain it. You would never meet your soulmate, you knew that. So why were you so calm most of the time? You’d met others whom had gone hysterical. What was this calm aura that surrounded you? And why did you feel like someone was always watching you?’, ‘You remembered the exact moment the clock stopped. It stopped a few years ago; you sat alone on the swings in the park when a burning feeling ignited in your wrist. Horrified, you looked down. Embedded into your skin was a new tattoo - one that read 2 years / 6 months / 17 days / 6 hours / 5 minutes / 34 seconds in gorgeous calligraphy. You hated it.’ - (Soulmate clock/Ghost-Soulmate AU?)

g (matches 5). ‘Why on earth did i have to be the one Satan asks to get their soul. Why’d they even sell their soul to begin with. Oh, fuck where am I.’, ‘my little sister really looks up to you because she’s going through that phase so she’ll probably kill me again when i get home.’ (demon AU)

M/W/M/I

- Yes

- No

- I really don’t mind

Holy shit that took ten years

Wow okay, that took a long while my bad. Anyway, as you can see, some match together well (and some are really specific)but ofc you don’t have to do those two together. sO! Please vote in my asks box!! I’m so curious to see the outcome~

Bye bye~!!

*poof*

[fucked-up-cinnamon-rolls]

Alternative Universe - Reversed

This AU has triggering subjects. Also, this is the AU/Verse that one of my (hopefully) future RP blogs (because I want more of these fuckers) will be in. Under a cut because LENGTH.

Mehmun - Bad

All of his life, people close to him died. It became a habit, he did not expect anyone close to him to live - and they never did. When he was twenty four, he was the killer of the love of his life - he saw little wrong with this, it would have been more painful if she'd died another way.

And talking about how painful it was - it wasn't. It was thrilling. It was then he got a love for murder, for it filled the adult with glee as he chose who lived and died - very few lived.

The majority of his family and friends died at his hands, including his father-in-law, uncle, younger cousin... and his own daughter. He took it up as a career, using his sorcery to enhance his skills. He has no motive, no pattern. Mehmun kills when he feels like it.

And Mehmun always feels like it.

Zlatko - Bad

He had a younger brother to protect - well, the brother was in no way related to him - and he would go to any lengths to protect the boy. When his brother fell ill, Zlatko had to save him. But the treatment that could save him wasn't cheap.

He began to sell illegal items, such as cocaine, faulty or fake appliances, like lamps that would explode after a few uses, weapons, you name it, he sold it. Alas, despite being able to afford the treatment, it was too late.

His brother died. Going into a depressive state, he began to use some of the things he would sell, just to push away the pain - but, even when the boy was 'brought back to life' by the demon that had been possessing him, he only continued to use them, truly addicted.

He will do anything for his little brother. Even if it resorts to ending lives.

Aerron - Good

Aerron is free from Damien's clutches. He's getting used to normal life now, having to learn things he should have learnt during his time being possessed by Damien, like cooking, anything learnt in school after being twelve years old, how to socialise with other humans, etc.

He's a free man, but after having his mind invaded by a supernatural being, he's not without suffering just yet. The effects that it had on him are mostly mental and emotional scars, though some are physical.

Aerron avoids going to places he went to when possessed by the demon, even if they held good memories. Of course, there is the verse where he never met Damien - he has a degree in Drama, a boyfriend he met when fifteen and is on his way to becoming an actor.

It's funny just how one mistake as a child can change your life's path.

Klara - Bad

She and her father had been on a boat, leaving the island where her mother and grandfather had been killed - she was ten at the time, and hadn't put the pieces together. But it was on that boat trip she did - she didn't find out whilst living, however.

Klara found out as her father drove a knife into her neck. He cremated her on the boat, but left the knife that killed her somewhere hidden on the boat, and now she haunts it, tied to the knife.

Well, she did haunt it, until someone found and took the knife home with them. Wherever the knife goes, she goes. Despite being killed aged ten, she can change her appearance - she goes with a fifteen year old image. The only thing she wants - her father's head.

But she can't do that alone - she needs your (muse's) help.

Eban - Bad

He was taken in by Zlatko (and thus, his mother) and became the younger brother of the cyborg, though at times it did get stressful for the three of them, seeing as Eban is possessed by the Demon King, is also a hybrid and is another mouth to feed.

One day, he caught a life-threatening sickness, which Zlatko's mother also caught and later died of. He was comatose for two months of the sickness and unable to move for another three.

He was almost thankful when he died. However, there seemed to be no rest for him, as he was revived as a demon under the rule of the one possessing him in life, and thus made the choice to become a solid being so he could bury his human body - Zlatko hadn't cared to.

However, Eban being a demon possesses him to do... bad things.

Aidan - Bad

He was broken into - he gave up fighting for his world's sister world, for his sister, for the legacy for his father. At this point, he had just become King, and his mother's treatment of him had only worsened. He was hardly coping - so why go through Hell for a fight he'd never win?

Aidan gave up, and soon, the choices he made were not forced onto him - out of free will, he doomed the Dark World's people, and the Light World's - his own people.

His world is in the midst of a war, one he is proud to stay he started, the terrorist group called DROW barely alive anymore, thanks to his commands. Ayla is no longer alive, but his reign of terror is going on strong - at least five hundred years have passed since his coronation.

Aidan, the Light King, will make sure he wins the war, no matter the cost.

Kasi - Bad

Kasi always had a fascination with fire since she was five years old - you would have thought learning how dangerous fire was the hard way would have caused her to be fearful of it, or at least wary, but it seems to have had the opposite effect. She adores it.

When her mother and twin brother died in a car crash (which he was driving, apparently), she would set things on fire - cushions, paper, drawings made by her or her twin as children, the lot.

When thirteen, she found a club based on the idea of paranormal beings, such as demons, and the resurrection of life. Joining it, she learned one of the supposed resurrection spells and attempted to summon her dead brother once again. He returned... sort of. And she changed too.

Together, they would create havoc upon the world that separated them.

Kai - Bad

He drove the car that killed his mother - and himself. It was an accident, nothing was planned... well, his demise wasn't at least. He was only eight at the time, but his mother didn't care too much that he was driving - but she probably did in the afterlife.

He wasn't sent to Heaven or Hell or purgatory - he was sent to the Demon World which, as an eight year old, was terrifying. However, he soon settled into the swing of things and became a demon.

Five years had passed when he was summoned to be resurrected. He became a solid being, though he was unable to hide his demonic features unless he wears sunglasses and a hat - he doesn't. Convincing his sister to invest in her developed pyromania.

He convinced her sister to travel with him, and they became criminals.

BRIEF EXPLANATION:

Mehmun - Serial Killer/Assassin - Bad - Thirty nine years.

Zlatko - Drug Addict - Bad - Eighteen years.

Aerron - Free/Normal - Good - Seventeen years.

Klara - Ghost - Bad - Ten years, fifteen in appearance.

Eban - Demon/Dead - Bad - Twelve years, fifteen in appearance.

Aidan - King - Bad - One thousand years, twenty in appearance.

Kasi - Criminal - Bad - Fourteen/Fifteen years.

Kai - Demon/Dead/Criminal - Bad - Eight years, fourteen/fifteen in appearance.

[happybubbleasmr-blog]

The Solid 7

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1) SOLITUDE 

... it is healthy & important to have space from people occasionally

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2) TASK FOCUSED

...focus on an activity. no thinking / no dwelling / no ruminating / no daydreaming.

- watch a whodunit (poirot, midsomer murders, rosemary & thyme, detective conan, inspector morse)

- pokemon shiny hunting / soft resetting

- play a calming game alone (borderlands 2, zelda ocarina of time, zelda wind waker, animal crossing, pokemon, kingdom hearts dream drop distance, kingdom hearts 2, kingdom hearts 1, sly cooper 1, sly cooper 2, sly cooper 3, jak & daxter, kirby 64, pokemon pokepark 1, pokemon pokepark 2, zelda skyward sword, kirby return to dream land, kirby epic yarn, yoshi wooley world, dkc returns, super mario galaxy) not as calming games (cod ghosts campaign, cod bo3 campaign, cod advanced warfare campaign, far cry 4, gta 5, assassins creed black flag, uncharted) 

- osu! 

- stepmania 

- complete a puzzle

- draw in a coloring book 

- cook a simple soup (mom’s cream of mushroom soup, mom’s russian sweet & sour cabbage soup, mom’s egg noodle chicken noodle soup, my quick borscht soup, chili, foul mudammas, japanese squash beef stew)  

- practice reading piano notes(aceg, gbdfa, face, egbdf, & everything else) 

HAPPYBUBBLEASMR

- make hand written japanese hiragana flash cards

- make hand written japanese katakana flash cards

- reading genki textbook 1 & doing written activities 

- make korean alphabet flash cards 

- healthy eating mukbang 

- origami 

- herbal tea collection

- decaf & caffeinated tea collection

- attempting to draw/doodle chibi things (halloween characters) 

- my stuffed animal collection

- my earrings collection

- wax cubes collection  

- yankee candle wax tart collection

- bath & body works 3 wick candles collection 

- yankee candle large jar candles collection

- crazy bones collection asmr

- building lego structures

- freelance lego building

- building easy(?) gundams

- iron beads or “perler beads” 

- typing pokemon moves doc asmr 

- ironing clothes asmr (like gentle whispering)

- play with fidget toys asmr

- kinetic sand asmr

- reading a book in english asmr

- reading a kids book in english asmr 

- reading a kids book in korean asmr

korean alphabet

sino korean numbers 

native korean numbers + counters 

korean words (sagwa = apple) (ooyoo = milk)

japanese hiragana

japanese katakana

pokemon moves (name, type, special/physical)

piano

- youtube inspiration (latte asmr, gentlewhispering, ellie alien asmr, paris asmr, soy asmr, dana asmr, whispers red asmr, 

===========================================================

3) EMOTIONALLY ALLERGIC / ANAPHYLAXIS

... some people have to avoid contact with peanuts because they will have anaphylactic shock = some people have to avoid contact with what triggers their emotions/mental triggers.

peanuts & allergic disposition = emotional content & mentally ill disposition

anaphylactic shock = emotional/mental breakdown due to having a background of trauma / severe depression / bipolar / paranoia / ocd / stress / anxiety

the “emotionally allergic” may need to distance themselves from triggers to prevent emotional anaphylaxis. triggers can include:

- conversation with people which tend to be emotional/mental & not task oriented

(nash: nash will trigger emotional conversations or will initiate debates and say offensive things which trigger emotional responses and arguments)

(catherine/1ea: i would go to catherine or 1ea with my emotional problems as i saw her as a therapist sort which was a bad habit that I developed which is unacceptable and is a result of catherine’s kindness)

(craft: talking about my aesthetic appearance stresses me out & makes me think of plastic surgery & depresses me about my appearance)

- emotionally triggering tv shows / movies / music

(tv shows: death note, fate/zero, breaking bad, lion king)

(movies: the dark knight, requiem for a dream, atonement)

(music: bring me the horizon, metallica)

===========================================================

4) STOIC MUSCLE

...“build your stoic muscle”. a concentrated effort to not be emotional / sentimental. 

it is impossible to run away from all emotionally triggering situations, people, & things in nature. therefor, it is important to build your stoic muscle so you are better at handling those situations.

(when watching movies/tv shows/music)

*for example, there was a scene in the disney movie moana where moana first goes out into the water with her pet pig but they crash and nearly drowned. this scene triggered a panic response & made me want to cry very quickly. in this situation, it is important to recognize that the body is having a hyper-reaction to the scene. if that reaction occurs again, think of this document & try to open this document on your cell phone if possible. calm the mind down by saying in your head “this reaction is overly intense. calm down. everything is fine)

(in conversations with friends/family)

(when doing activities like singing,painting,video games)

===========================================================

5) DISCONNECT 

...disengaging physically or mentally from the situation. 

if you sense things going south (someone starts lecturing you, someone is telling you everything you’re doing wrong in life, putting pressure on you or insulting you aka grandma) you should disconnect.

Why should you disconnect? 

save you from losing control, high chance of crying, high change of mental breakdown, damage socially, damage emotionally, damage physically, risk of being involuntarily sent to psychiatric ward

(step 1) 

determine whether you can physically disconnect from the situation or not. 

can you physically leave from the environment, even if only temporarily?

can you hang up the phone call, turn cell phone off, stop texting, go to bathroom, drive home, take a taxi?

if yes then, 

(step 2)

simply say “i have to leave” 

or “i’ll be right back” 

or “this is the wrong place & time for this”

if you cannot physically leave, then

(step 3)

disconnect mentally/emotionally

(step 4)

Take out your phone & do an activity such as 

- phone sudoku

- phone checkers 

- phone words with friends 

- quizlet flash cards 

- duolingo 

- hiragana

- katakana

- chinese-mandarin characters

- sino korean numbers

- native korean numbers 

(step 5) 

No phone/phone is dead? do a different activity such as 

- a little sudoku book 

- bring fidget toys such as crystals, crazy bones, dice, something to keep hands occupied

- apply lotion to hands 

- apply cuticle oil 

- playing with some sort of stress toy, rubber band, bracelet

- doodle

- practice writing in a foreign language (korean, japanese) 

Example of Disconnect:

===========================================================

6) MIRROR

let peoples actions, words, behaviors, speak for themselves. 

this is also a great way to decipher what people were really saying when your emotions get too riled up & your emotions distort what people are literally saying versus what you perceive them to be saying due to paranoia, depression, etc. 

my emotions change my perception of events. so the best thing to do in order for me to un-warp my paranoid/depressed perception of events is to preserve records of the events.

- take photos

- write things down WORD.FOR.WORD that are “offensive” … do not paraphrase

- keep dates

- record (use phone to record…dont let people know they are being recorded so that you can avoid legal trouble…) *find out the laws of recording someone to avoid any kanye west/kim kardasian/taylor swift lawsuits just in case

{Taylor Swift’s legal team are convinced Kanye and Kim have violated California penal code 632 that makes it illegal to record calls without permission from both sides, and have warned the rapper that she did not give consent and insisted she was not aware the call was being taped.}

Example of Mirror: 

===========================================================

7) HEALTH

sleep

vitamins

cooking vegetable soup one a week/every other week

lazy “exercise” 3 times a week (neurogenesis)

avoid things which will trigger emotional changes (stimulants like coffee, depressants like alcohol, gambling like tpp’s pbr) 

too little sleep can cause hyperactivity (this is a tricky one due to school/work/insomnia/life)  

[cantbuymemeth]

1 “Evergreen” 1/5 The family of a rebellious teenager (Amber Tamblyn) moves to a gated community which has a unique and grisly way of dealing with troubled youth.

2 “One Night at Mercy” 3/5 A doctor named Dr. Jay Ferguson saves a strange patient (Jason Alexander) from suicide, only to learn that he is Death incarnate looking to take a break from his life’s work.

3 “Shades of Guilt” 4/5 After leaving a dark-skinned professor (Hill Harper) who’s asking for help, Matt McGreevy (Vincent Ventresca) soon learns to regret his action as he slowly begins to resemble the man.

4 “Dream Lover” 1/5 A comic book graphic artist named Andrew Lomax (Adrian Pasdar) somehow makes his dream girl (Shannon Elizabeth) real to help him with his writer’s block. However, who is real and who is fictional becomes unclear.

5 “Cradle of Darkness” 1/5 A woman (Katherine Heigl) working for a time travel organization is sent back in time to kill Adolf Hitler in infancy and prevent his reign of terror.

6 “Night Route” 4/5 After nearly being hit by a car, a female English professor named Melina Kroner (Ione Skye) is haunted by a strange bus appearing in her street.

7 “Time Lapse” 1/5 An orderly named Zack Walker (Ethan Embry), suffering from blackouts, learns that the gaps in time that he can’t remember were the result of a cop—briefly switching bodies with him—trying to prevent the assassination of the President’s daughter.

8 “Dead Man’s Eyes” 3/5 After the husband of Lauren Janus (Portia de Rossi) is murdered, she is inconsolable. At the trial, she absentmindedly places his glasses on her face—and suddenly, she is able to see through his eyes. The glasses recorded the man’s last moments, so his wife decides to try and solve the case—but she must face a very dangerous and familiar murderer.

9 “The Pool Guy” 3/5 A pool cleaner named Richie Almares (Lou Diamond Phillips) is having a recurring nightmare of a deceased man (Mackenzie Gray) who keeps telling him to wake up before shooting him.

10 “Azoth the Avenger Is a Friend of Mine” 1/5 A young boy named Craig Henson (Rory Culkin), beset by an abusive father and neighborhood bullies, wills his favorite superhero Azoth the Avenger (Patrick Warburton) to life, who teaches him about vengeance and courage.

11 “The Lineman” 2/5 After being struck by lightning, a lineman named Tyler Ward (Jeremy Piven) gains the ability to hear other people’s thoughts. Using his newfound powers for his own personal and financial gain, he soon realizes that everything comes with a price.

12 “Harsh Mistress” 1/5 A struggling musician named Cory Williams (Lukas Haas) purchases an infamous guitar, which leads to him gaining vast international stardom and wealth, but both come with a surprising price tag.

13 “Upgrade” 4/5 A housewife named Annie (Susanna Thompson), humiliated by her loutish husband and unruly children, wishes for a better life, only to find that reality wants to replace her as well.

14 “To Protect and Serve” 5/5 An idealistic police officer named Eric Boggs (Usher), determined to keep a prostitute (Samantha Becker) safe from her pimp, will stop at nothing in this world to protect her.

15 “Chosen” 5/5 A hopeless and destitute man named Vincent Hansen (Jake Busey) angrily rebuffs two persistent missionaries who may well have the answer to all of his problems at the time when some people start to disappear.

16 “Sensuous Cindy” 1/5 Having sworn off all other women upon getting engaged, a man named Benjamin Baker (Greg Germann) is put to the test by a virtual-reality beauty named Cindy (Jaime Pressly).

17 “Hunted” 1/5 A futuristic society is attacked by a vicious and mysterious murderer.

18 “Mr. Motivation” 1/5 A sinister toy doll (voiced by Pat O'Brien) encourages a timid man named Charles Stickney (Wallace Langham) to stand up to his boss Rick (Christopher McDonald) and take control of his life.

19 “Sanctuary” 2/5 Stranded in a modern day Garden of Eden, a sports agent named Scott Turner (Rob Estes) and a real estate agent named Marisa Sanborn (Elizabeth Berkley) soon find their idyllic world crumbling thanks to an injured motorcyclist (Nicki Aycox) and her working cell phone.

20 “Future Trade” 3/5 A man named Martin Donner (Frank Whaley) with a dead-end job at a big-box store and a dysfunctional family is lured into trading his future for that of a seemingly privileged man with a trophy wife (Sofia Milos). But he must have forgotten the age-old cliché: if something seems too good to be true, it probably is.

21 “Found and Lost” 2/5 A businessman named Sean Moore (Brian Austin Green) gets a chance to revisit the past and make another bid for Elizabeth Wicker (Moira Kelly) who was the woman that he loved.

22 “Gabe’s Story” 3/5 A deliveryman named Gabe O'Brien (Christopher Titus) suffering from consistent bad luck is given a surprising chance to change his destiny.

23 “Last Lap” 5/5 A terminally ill young man named Andy Perez (Clifton Collins, Jr.) and his best friend Marco Flores (Greg Serano) take a final ride in their souped-up racer that results in unexpected consequences for both.

24 “The Path” 2/5 A dissatisfied tabloid journalist named Ally Warner (Linda Cardellini) entrusts her fate in the hands of a fortune teller named Kamayo (Method Man) who gives her scoops in advance. However, her “sure thing” has hidden problems.

25 “Fair Warning” 4/5 A flower shop clerk named Tina Bishop (Taryn Manning) is viciously stalked by one of the multiple personalities of a troubled pet store employee named George Straitton (Devon Gummersall).

26 “Another Life” 5/5 Famous rapper Marvin Gardens (Wood Harris) overcame a tough childhood in the projects to become a millionaire with a wife, son, and mansion. However, painful, confusing visions plague him to the point that the thin line between real and fantasy is crossed.

27 “Rewind” 2/5 A compulsive gambler named Jonah Beach (Eddie Kaye Thomas) mysteriously learns how to travel back in time, believes he has found a sure bet to win big at the casinos. He soon discovers, however, that everything is a gamble.

28 “Tagged” 1/5 A gang member and tagger named Marcus Fisher (Todd Williams) confesses to murder when a mural painted by the victim transforms itself into a version of the crime scene.

29 “Into the Light” 2/5 A teacher (Samantha Mathis) gains the power to predict death.

30 “It’s Still a Good Life” 0/5 In the sequel to the 1961 episode “It’s a Good Life”, Anthony Fremont (Bill Mumy), the young boy who once terrorized his town with his amazing mental powers, is now a man and the proud father of a little girl (Liliana Mumy) whose mental powers are stronger than his.

31 “The Monsters Are on Maple Street” 0/5 In this update of the 1960 episode “The Monsters Are Due on Maple Street,” a neighborhood begins suspecting their new neighbors of terrorism after the power and water get cut off.

32 “Memphis” 4/5 A law clerk named Ray Ellison (Eriq La Salle) with only six months to live due to a brain tumor finds himself in Memphis, Tennessee in 1968 on the day Martin Luther King, Jr. is going to be assassinated.

33 “How Much Do You Love Your Kid?” 5/5 A woman named Donna Saicheck (Bonnie Somerville) who is contemplating divorce from her husband Ted (Steve Bacic) gets a phone call from the police that her son has been kidnapped. Donna then sees this as part of a twisted reality game show hosted by a man known as Nick Dark (Wayne Knight).

34 “The Placebo Effect” 5/5 A description of an unnamed disease that the hypochondriac Harry Raditch (Jeffrey Combs) supposedly has comes to life when those around him become infected.

35 “Cold Fusion” 4/5 A brilliant physicist named Paul Thorson (Sean Patrick Flanery) is ordered by the military to a remote Arctic lab where the final start-up preparations for an infinite power source are taking place. He becomes involved in a deadly psychological struggle with the device’s creator (Ian McShane).

36 “The Pharaoh’s Curse” 3/5 An aspiring magician named Mario Devlin (Shawn Hatosy) seeks to learn the secret behind a legendary trick by legendary magician Harry Kellogg (Xander Berkeley).

37 “The Collection” 5/5 A night of babysitting turns to cold terror when a young woman named Miranda Evans (Jessica Simpson) realizes that the eerily lifelike doll collection of her client Danielle Rander (Ashley Edner) may explain the mysterious disappearances of the previous babysitters.

38 “Eye of the Beholder” 0/5 In this remake of the classic Twilight Zone episode, a beautiful woman named Janet Tyler (Molly Sims) in a futuristic society where everyone is hideous undergoes her 11th attempt at surgically being like everyone else.

39 “Developing” 2/5 A young photographer named Edie Durant (Robin Tunney) discovers photos of her dead fiancé that could never had been taken and remains convinced that it is her deceased lover calling her to be with him in death.

40 “The Executions of Grady Finch” 3/5 A death row inmate named Grady Finch (Jeremy Sisto) claims to his lawyer Liz (Alicia Witt) that he is innocent as an unknown force ends up interfering in his executions.

41 “Homecoming” 2/5 An army officer named Rob Malone (Gil Bellows) comes home to try and make amends with his wayward son Trace (Penn Badgley) before the boy learns his terrible secret.

42 “Sunrise” 5/5 Five college students named Marty (Jonathan Jackson), Amber (Sarah Carter), Noah (Michael Peña), Eve (Lauren Lee Smith), and Wesley (Tyler Labine) explore an Aztec site. They carelessly knock over a jug filled with blood and in an instant, the sun goes out. The Earth will die unless something is done. According to some carvings, the only way to reverse the curse is to sacrifice someone.

43 “Burned” 1/5 An agoraphobic real-estate mogul named Scott Crane (Jason Bateman) is haunted by the ghosts of twin children killed in an arson he paid a man to commit.