Mmm Prawn Salad and Oatcakes. Also, Bleach and Writing
Well, since I haven't posted any writing here for ages, and I haven't written any actual fic for ages, I thought I would repost a bit of collaborative stuff I am doing with Cocoa ( momijizukamori ) in the setting of a Bleach Alternative Universe that she created.
I admit I generally filter LiveJournal RolePlay stuff away from the main friendslist on LJ as I am never sure if anyone really wants to see my writing in that area. I know some people have issues with RP, even though for me its just a more collaborative form of fan fic. Anyway, Cocoa seems to bring out my inner teal deer so... here's a tag I was particularly proud of recently, written from the POV of a slightly Alternative Universe post-WInter War Kyouraku Shunsui. In this universe, Ukitake Jyuushiro is female.
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[Kyouraku's last clear memory is of Karakura Town - of lying in the rubble with Katen Kyokotsu still gripped tightly in his hands, choking on the smell of smoke and of his own blood. There had been a dozen reiatsu signals demanding his attention but he had only been seeking one - Ukitake's - flickering in and out. Each time it had faded he'd reached for it and found it again. until the sky had exploded in an inferno of flame and everything had faded to black.
Since then, he remembers little - just a sickening sense of drowning - of clawing his way to the surface of consciousness only to be sucked down again. Half the time, he's certain that he's caught in another illusion of Aizen's, and even in his more lucid moments, where he's aware of his surroundings, he can't tell if it's real.
He's convinced himself a hundred times that she is dead - that they are all dead; that Retsu is lying to him every time he asks - he had forgotten how many times - and that Katen Kyokotsu is lying too; that Retsu is under Aizen's control; that each time he feels Jyuushiko's reiatsu flare at the edge of his awareness before burning out again, it's gone forever.
He has tried, more than once, to pull out the needle which he can feel constantly pressing into a vein, or to escape the cool touch of Retsu's hand that inevitably plunges him back into the void. Not that it's done him any good, since he's weak enough that Minazuki's presence alone can hold him while Retsu works, the disapproving weight of her zanpakutou pressing in on him until the strongest protest he can muster is a murderous glare.
Now, he surfaces for what feels like the thousandth time, expecting to see a sky streaked grey and seared with flame; to feel dust and ash filling his lungs when he inhales and heat blistering his skin. Instead there is a curtain of green, sun-warmth dappling his face through the branches of a cherry tree in full bloom. Katen Kyokotsu is kneeling, his head in her lap and the indigo silk of her furisode pooling around them. Covering him is a blanket of flowers, their perfumes mingling in the soft breeze that stirs the leaves above his head.
When he reaches up to touch her she just smiles and catches his wrist, holding it as manicured fingers pull out the needle and peel off the tape that holds it in place. Her touch is ice cold, unlike Retsu's, and her skin carries with it the scent of flowers and damp earth.
It is time to wake, aruji*. She is waiting for you.
A finger against his lips forestalls anything he might say in reply and she bends her head to kiss his forehead, dark hair falling like a shroud across his face and the the chill of her lips on overheated skin making him shudder.
This time, when he opens his eyes, it's to the blank, white-washed ceiling of Fourth and the sense of Jyuushiko's reiatsu, faint but steady.]
Ukitake.
[When he turns his head to look it's more of an effort than it should be, and the wave of nausea that follows makes him regret it almost instantly.]
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I am especially pleased with having got to play with the concept of the shinigami/zanpakutou "inner world". I need to work on that more and fill out the rest of the blanks. I think I know where I am going with it now thanks to some brainstorming with another Shunsui writer.
*Aruji means a number of things in Japanese - centering aroun dthe concepts of husband/master/head of the family. His sword spirit is very much using it ironically here, although the suggestion of an illicit relationship between them is deliberate.
I admit I generally filter LiveJournal RolePlay stuff away from the main friendslist on LJ as I am never sure if anyone really wants to see my writing in that area. I know some people have issues with RP, even though for me its just a more collaborative form of fan fic. Anyway, Cocoa seems to bring out my inner teal deer so... here's a tag I was particularly proud of recently, written from the POV of a slightly Alternative Universe post-WInter War Kyouraku Shunsui. In this universe, Ukitake Jyuushiro is female.
---------
[Kyouraku's last clear memory is of Karakura Town - of lying in the rubble with Katen Kyokotsu still gripped tightly in his hands, choking on the smell of smoke and of his own blood. There had been a dozen reiatsu signals demanding his attention but he had only been seeking one - Ukitake's - flickering in and out. Each time it had faded he'd reached for it and found it again. until the sky had exploded in an inferno of flame and everything had faded to black.
Since then, he remembers little - just a sickening sense of drowning - of clawing his way to the surface of consciousness only to be sucked down again. Half the time, he's certain that he's caught in another illusion of Aizen's, and even in his more lucid moments, where he's aware of his surroundings, he can't tell if it's real.
He's convinced himself a hundred times that she is dead - that they are all dead; that Retsu is lying to him every time he asks - he had forgotten how many times - and that Katen Kyokotsu is lying too; that Retsu is under Aizen's control; that each time he feels Jyuushiko's reiatsu flare at the edge of his awareness before burning out again, it's gone forever.
He has tried, more than once, to pull out the needle which he can feel constantly pressing into a vein, or to escape the cool touch of Retsu's hand that inevitably plunges him back into the void. Not that it's done him any good, since he's weak enough that Minazuki's presence alone can hold him while Retsu works, the disapproving weight of her zanpakutou pressing in on him until the strongest protest he can muster is a murderous glare.
Now, he surfaces for what feels like the thousandth time, expecting to see a sky streaked grey and seared with flame; to feel dust and ash filling his lungs when he inhales and heat blistering his skin. Instead there is a curtain of green, sun-warmth dappling his face through the branches of a cherry tree in full bloom. Katen Kyokotsu is kneeling, his head in her lap and the indigo silk of her furisode pooling around them. Covering him is a blanket of flowers, their perfumes mingling in the soft breeze that stirs the leaves above his head.
When he reaches up to touch her she just smiles and catches his wrist, holding it as manicured fingers pull out the needle and peel off the tape that holds it in place. Her touch is ice cold, unlike Retsu's, and her skin carries with it the scent of flowers and damp earth.
It is time to wake, aruji*. She is waiting for you.
A finger against his lips forestalls anything he might say in reply and she bends her head to kiss his forehead, dark hair falling like a shroud across his face and the the chill of her lips on overheated skin making him shudder.
This time, when he opens his eyes, it's to the blank, white-washed ceiling of Fourth and the sense of Jyuushiko's reiatsu, faint but steady.]
Ukitake.
[When he turns his head to look it's more of an effort than it should be, and the wave of nausea that follows makes him regret it almost instantly.]
-----
I am especially pleased with having got to play with the concept of the shinigami/zanpakutou "inner world". I need to work on that more and fill out the rest of the blanks. I think I know where I am going with it now thanks to some brainstorming with another Shunsui writer.
*Aruji means a number of things in Japanese - centering aroun dthe concepts of husband/master/head of the family. His sword spirit is very much using it ironically here, although the suggestion of an illicit relationship between them is deliberate.