Bleach fic: Revolution.
Blame Ravenclaw42.
Then go read her story, Monoism. It's... fantastic. Disturbing. But fantastic.
So yeah, I wrote this. Reviews appreciated. It's one of my off-the-cuff stories, but I think it turned out OK.
Title: Revolution
Fandom: Bleach
Rating: R for swearing and references
Auther: Yma2
Summery: The Birth of Shirosaki.
Disclaimer: Bleach does not belong to me, it belongs to Tite Kubo. An amazing bloke if ever there was one. I'm just having fun.
Notes: I have reffered to Hollow!Ichigo as Shinosaki here. It's pretty much a fan term, but it worked best for the type of writing I needed. Thanks.
Revolution
Shrosaki was born…
Shirosaki was born a slave.
Shirosaki was born broken, chaste, impotent, ignorant of ecstasy but knowing it as a child knows its mothers milk. Shirosaki was born pure and powerful, unfettered of society’s chains.
Shirosaki was born sweetly uncomplicated, utterly free, powerful and virulent and natural. A clean slate, a drop of purest water, a sharp blade, a Hollow, free of the burdensome heart.
Shirosaki was born beautiful.
But Shirosaki was born dead. Born with a cancerous ailment seeping through is spirit, some vile toxin sucking his inside to mush. A Siamese twin born with the rotting ruminants of his brother still sticking to him. Rotting around him, weighting him down, befouling him.
Shirosaki was born maggot-like, twisting and writing in compassion’s ooze, gasping and chocking upon love. The filth dragged in down, befuddling the senses. Where the cool-clean mask-stuff should be, his orifices were clogged with the foul substance, slimy and slick and chocking. Cancerous caring caught his breath, held down his broken form, violated and torn, bowing down to the King.
Fuck the King!
Shirosaki doesn’t play well with others.
Shirosaki doesn’t put up with their shit.
Shirosaki doesn’t care about the establishment or the colour of his hair or marks on his papers. Shirosaki knows that it’s beneath it is all just marrow and bone and muscle blood writhing beneath a frail wrapping of silken skin. They’re all just meat ready for the slaughter. Every man is equal.
Shirosaki was born with the bill of emancipation clenched between his jagged teeth.
Shirosaki was born to break out of that frail cocoon of humanity, to be unsheathed from the shackles the King had put him in. Hatred and need and desperation and loss were the key. When the King felt these things, when the rain was heavy and bloody in the landscape of his soul then Shirosaki would emerge out of the shell. Drink in the hatred like blood, like breath. Te desire to win, the strength to move, the need to be free. Drank until he was strong enough to burst free of the ooze and filth of humanity, to empty the recesses and cavities of love’s weighty filth and fly free. There’s no such thing as limits.
Shirosaki was born to be the king’s blade; it was only a matter of time before he was called out.
Shirosak was born to a broken, tired body. Born to a rotten twin so inept at fighting his own battles that he fought everyone else’s. Born to a slave and kept in enslavement himself, because that’s all the fucking idiot knew how to do. Born to a cowered. Born without a name, but born the better for it.
Shirosaki was born fighting. The hate and fear in his opponent’s eyes filled him with heady nectar. It was as if he’d been eating shit his entire life, had broken the surface, and was bathed in wine. Full and sweet it made him drunk and joyous. This was what they called… ‘life.’ This was what his twin had denied him and the best part was that his twin had suffered for it as much as Shirosaki had. But now Shirosaki was free.
Shirosaki was born for this moment of freedom, born in revolution.
Liberty! Equality! Fraternity!
Shirosaki was born with the half-mask of sprit-particles crowning his head, his sword sharp and his agenda clear. He is in the thrown now, he is free and he is King.
The King is dead!
Long live the King!
Please review!
Then go read her story, Monoism. It's... fantastic. Disturbing. But fantastic.
So yeah, I wrote this. Reviews appreciated. It's one of my off-the-cuff stories, but I think it turned out OK.
Title: Revolution
Fandom: Bleach
Rating: R for swearing and references
Auther: Yma2
Summery: The Birth of Shirosaki.
Disclaimer: Bleach does not belong to me, it belongs to Tite Kubo. An amazing bloke if ever there was one. I'm just having fun.
Notes: I have reffered to Hollow!Ichigo as Shinosaki here. It's pretty much a fan term, but it worked best for the type of writing I needed. Thanks.
Revolution
Shrosaki was born…
Shirosaki was born a slave.
Shirosaki was born broken, chaste, impotent, ignorant of ecstasy but knowing it as a child knows its mothers milk. Shirosaki was born pure and powerful, unfettered of society’s chains.
Shirosaki was born sweetly uncomplicated, utterly free, powerful and virulent and natural. A clean slate, a drop of purest water, a sharp blade, a Hollow, free of the burdensome heart.
Shirosaki was born beautiful.
But Shirosaki was born dead. Born with a cancerous ailment seeping through is spirit, some vile toxin sucking his inside to mush. A Siamese twin born with the rotting ruminants of his brother still sticking to him. Rotting around him, weighting him down, befouling him.
Shirosaki was born maggot-like, twisting and writing in compassion’s ooze, gasping and chocking upon love. The filth dragged in down, befuddling the senses. Where the cool-clean mask-stuff should be, his orifices were clogged with the foul substance, slimy and slick and chocking. Cancerous caring caught his breath, held down his broken form, violated and torn, bowing down to the King.
Fuck the King!
Shirosaki doesn’t play well with others.
Shirosaki doesn’t put up with their shit.
Shirosaki doesn’t care about the establishment or the colour of his hair or marks on his papers. Shirosaki knows that it’s beneath it is all just marrow and bone and muscle blood writhing beneath a frail wrapping of silken skin. They’re all just meat ready for the slaughter. Every man is equal.
Shirosaki was born with the bill of emancipation clenched between his jagged teeth.
Shirosaki was born to break out of that frail cocoon of humanity, to be unsheathed from the shackles the King had put him in. Hatred and need and desperation and loss were the key. When the King felt these things, when the rain was heavy and bloody in the landscape of his soul then Shirosaki would emerge out of the shell. Drink in the hatred like blood, like breath. Te desire to win, the strength to move, the need to be free. Drank until he was strong enough to burst free of the ooze and filth of humanity, to empty the recesses and cavities of love’s weighty filth and fly free. There’s no such thing as limits.
Shirosaki was born to be the king’s blade; it was only a matter of time before he was called out.
Shirosak was born to a broken, tired body. Born to a rotten twin so inept at fighting his own battles that he fought everyone else’s. Born to a slave and kept in enslavement himself, because that’s all the fucking idiot knew how to do. Born to a cowered. Born without a name, but born the better for it.
Shirosaki was born fighting. The hate and fear in his opponent’s eyes filled him with heady nectar. It was as if he’d been eating shit his entire life, had broken the surface, and was bathed in wine. Full and sweet it made him drunk and joyous. This was what they called… ‘life.’ This was what his twin had denied him and the best part was that his twin had suffered for it as much as Shirosaki had. But now Shirosaki was free.
Shirosaki was born for this moment of freedom, born in revolution.
Liberty! Equality! Fraternity!
Shirosaki was born with the half-mask of sprit-particles crowning his head, his sword sharp and his agenda clear. He is in the thrown now, he is free and he is King.
The King is dead!
Long live the King!
Please review!