Fragments of the Past Ch.1
The previous story to this fanfic is, A Heart for the Hole The link can be found in the artist description.
For many of you Bleach diehard fans like me, you are already well aware of when a big series like Bleach comes out....so do the movies! So I'd like to welcome you to my very first Bleach Movie Fanfiction SPECTACULAIRE! However, this fic takes place after the war with Aizen, after the events of my GrimmKein fic "A Heart for the Hole" and just before the Fullbring Arc so that's why the movie fic acknowledges Grimmjow and Kein as mates.
For those who are new to my Bleach fanfiction series, start reading from the beginning of the series or this fanfiction movie will not make much sense to you (for a few reasons, but not a lot).
Story Summary No matter how young or how old we become, the past has a way of catching up to us when we least expect it and sometimes when we are most vulnerable. Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez and Kein Marasuna leave Hueco Mundo to pay
Black Goddess RisingShe was made of the night itself, an inexorable creature that thrived on darkness and passion. Black as coals her eyes were; great pools that reflected entire galaxies within them. Eyes that offered worlds of possibilities and an endless and flawless façade with which to hide her lies. They were set in a pale face and framed by a tempest of black curls that cascaded across her soft, curving shoulders and hung down her back. Her dress looked as though it was woven of deepest waters and stardust. Each movement she made was fluid-like and seemed as if though she were floating through the air with the elegance and grace of liquid conforming to its environs.
She touched him, gently at first, then firmly pushing him back against the wall she pressed her ear up against his chest: his heart beat strongly with what she recognised was a love for her. Kissing his neck she cried one single, silent tear and allowed it to slide down first her cheek then his chest. Despite being aware of what wo
Heat and the Smell of Flames
Los Angeles, Thursday, July 25, 2002
The firelight illuminated the red in her auburn hair, shoulder-length and straight as sheet metal. Aidan stood, shoulders back and head high, in her loose brown robe, her face smooth, wearing patience like a mask. She watched her mentor as he made last-minute preparations for the ritual.
At her feet marched a line of small stones, glinting dully in the firelight. The stones encircled the bonfire and the altar set up in the north of the circle. A man stood by the altar, preparing the herbs. His long, dark hair fell in his face as he worked, adding a pinch of this herb, a small handful of that root, all harvested and dried especially for this occasion.
Darcy finished, picked up a small bowl that had been sitting off to one side, and moved to the fire. He grabbed a small hand
Malkavian PoetryThis is a random interrupt in your programming day
This is a random interruption in your programming day
This is a random day in your interrupted programming
Please note the hamsters have escaped their wheels
There was a time when words had meaning
When the ancient muses inflict their inspiration upon unsuspecting artists
Drawn like an arrow from a womb drawn like a conclusion
They would eat their modern counter parts whole
Dragging them to dark places squirming and rising to squeeze their juices into paint
We are rebelling against mediocrity against conformity against anything hat does not set the soul on fire
Passion is not a Pepsi product
We do not need bubbles to tickle our noses and here comes the doctor right on schedule flicking and tapping his flip board, well the good news is your out of that hot frying pan.
Technology is my enemy, photographs steal my soul, mother boards and communion wafers, chip, upgrade, download, incoming version 1.0 in a ZIP AVI file.