Author has written 4 stories for Bleach.
To my beloved readers : )
"It's been a LONG while and no 2nd chapter? Why?!"
Things That Are Found is currently on some sort of non-hiatus-break-thing.
I know I said April before, but things came up again *sigh*. I have been working on chapters, I promise you that. I have about three done. But I'm in a sort of situation where I have little time to type things. I will update again. These chapters won't be a one year thing. Gosh I'm so ashamed of my constant lateness ._.
Time to rant on endlessly about myself Beware, it's quite a read.
'I am the Miracle-eater.
I am the one who takes miracles,
Chews them up, and spits them out as fate.
That's why most people hate when it rains...'
A short poem to explain my username It, according to my horrible Japanese, literally means Miracle-eater. It's based on the logic that if 'Yumekui' means 'dream-eater', then if you put 'kiseki', which means 'miracle', where the 'yume' is, you'll also be putting 'miracle' where the 'dream' is. That makes 'Kisekikui' mean Miracle-eater. (See how smart I am? No? Fine, be that way. Oh, you speak the language and know that's wrong? Well...too bad, I like the name)
The poem, not to be taken literally >_>, kinda sorta describes me because I practically killed my early childhood over-thinking things. Yes, Santa Claus cannot be alive because he is human, and humans don't live as long as he supposedly does. Yes, the Easter Bunny doesn't visit everyone's houses dropping eggs on the ground because how can he possibly get to everyone in one day, even with the time zone differences? Yes, the tooth fairy can't be real because I waited for her and Mommy came into my room to give me the quarter. Like that. Basically, I took childhood miracles and destroyed my chances of ever enjoying them. The chewing and the rain parts are just extra in the poem though, it's not like I actually can do that...and I wouldn't; it's cruel ._. But from that over-thinking came a brilliant mind! One that can play violin and that can play piano, both with the mind of a musical prodigy-like person! (Or at least that's what people say; I honestly don't know)
From this point on is my profile. When you look at the side of my face, you see this. Or not. Some people might, but they're on the opposite end of the special stick, while most people reading these words would be on the upper-middle. I don't copy and paste. I don't go into rabid-fan-mode on here. It's just me ranting on and on about things relevant to myself.
I never understood that copy and paste stuff though. This is a profile. I don't want people to look at the side of my face and see 'If you love Twilight, copy and paste this into your profile!'. That doesn't seem to fit on the side of my face. Or on the front. The back, maybe, but this is the profile. Not the back. So on to the side of my face, from the hairline to the tip of my chin. (Figuratively)
But first things first, Miracle-eaters have tempers and tend to rant about the repetition and predictability of readers. Miracle-eaters tend to make grammar and spelling mistakes when not writing on Word, just like everyone else. Miracle-eaters actually read what they write, add to it, take away from it, and correct it later. Miracle-eaters have a short attention span. This Miracle-eater takes the temper, rants intelligently, then erases it later. This Miracle-eater knows the difference between then and than. This Miracle-eater, despite being a writer on this website, absolutely hates writing. So, that being said, this Miracle-eater says 'Have fun'.
What am I thinking about, you ask?
So the school year's end has brought me some memories about my Freshman Year in High School, and I feel that I just have to share. I loved and hated it for many reasons, and I can't figure which it is. I loved the people, but I hated the people too. I loved the teachers, but I hated that one lunch lady. I loved the way I was, but I also hated it with a passion. It's as perplexing as that line from Millenium Actress where the old bag lady ghost witch person says in that one movie, "I love you more than I can bear, and I hate you more than I can bear." I could say the same about myself.
Now, since you all should know (you probably shouldn't though) that I hate going along with the crowd so much that I don't even fit into the misfit groups, I didn't love/hate that year of high school for the petty little kid reasons like "that one kid didn't like me back", "My teachers SUCK.", "I'm not popular", "I hate how the mainstream people run the place", or even "I'm awesome but I use a smile to hide that I"m really insecure and want to die!". That one kid did like me back at some point, so it's all good there. I realized the large amount of effort my teachers were putting in, so they didn't suck as much as other kids thought they did. The mainstream kids make the weird how they are, and who could we, the weird, talk about if they didn't run the place? And of course I was insecure, but it was obvious that people didn't care about it so I told myself to stop whining. None of that was me. None of it.
Oh wow, you're so original! *sarcasm* Quit bragging!/I bet you're lying!
Who cares if I'm lying! (I'm not though) I'm telling a story, rude!
Anyway, what I did in my Freshman Year that was so special was a dare. Or maybe you could call it an experiment. Maybe. Whatever. Once upon a summertime, I complained to my Best Bud Ever about how whenever I told someone something along the lines of "I'm not social", they would reply "that's no problem! You look so sad, all alone like that. You should talk to people! Make more friends! Be a social butterfly! It's not that hard!"Well Best Bud Ever laughed at me. I asked why, and he said "I can't imagine you doing that. You're a lone wolf". And then I was like "OH.", and he realized that he'd categorized me, which just made him crack up more. Long story short, the situation ended with him saying "There's no way you'd go through with becoming social."
That, reader, is a challenge. One that I took and regretted so badly.
So freshman year, I told him I was doing it. I went to each class on the first day, found someone who looked like they were the friendly type in each class, and said hello all cool-like and flirty-nice. Best Bud Ever was right, I did have the looks, because most of the people would make embarrassed-face instead of disgusted-face, thinking they were getting hit on with my super friendliness. The first week was full of me getting acquainted with so many people. I would literally target people who looked unsocial and shy and then just go all friendly-flirt on them. They ate it up like candy on a platter and before the week was over, they'd smile at the sight of me.
The next week was for establishing. I still kept relations with others, but I mostly chose the people I liked the most to grow with. I asked them questions about themselves. I got all close and comfy with people and made them feel safe. I waved across the classroom at people. Before this week was over, they loved me.
As the months went on, I continued with this, feigning perkiness and friendliness when most (really all) of the people I was talking to were just so darn annoying with their little-kid problems. People would come to me for advice and I would share my vast knowledge of how people worked. They mostly went with what they wanted to do though, and all I really helped them with was being that person they could rant to. Amazingly, I got stuck in the lunch that had little to no one I knew, so I had those wonderful times to myself. I convinced myself I had a wonderful existence, being a pillow for those in need, giving compliments where they were rarely given and well deserved, and being the all around nice kid.
But then there came along That One Guy. I chose to get friendly with That One Guy and ended getting a crush on them. I won't disclose That One Guy's gender, since I'm not telling my own, but I will give the abbreviation E for That One Guy's first name. And E was the opposite of my gender.
So I could tell from the start that it'd never work with E because they'd see around my amazingly crafted cover the second they got to know me. But I felt I had to tell, because I couldn't keep the mask well around E. I could pass that off as me going shy like any normal person, but I wanted that person to like me for me without knowing there was a me under the me that E could see. Without deciphering that sentence, it's obvious that that was impossible. So I told E.
Now, E didn't like me, and I knew that. I knew it and I went ahead and told E anyway just to get E out of my system. I also knew that E wouldn't tell anyone because of who I was and how they'd get harassed about it, but what I didn't expect was the silence. Not even a proper rejection! Pure silence. E didn't smile at me anymore, didn't wave at me anymore, didn't poke me anymore. It was horrible. I got sad for a day and got over it. E didn't though, and for a moment I thought E would expose me, but E didn't.
People I was especially "close" to would say "E is such a profanity" and tell me all sorts of gossip and say things about E to try and make me feel better, but it only made me feel worse. Here I was, faking friendships with these people and practically loophole-lying to their faces and they're badmouthing E? E didn't do anything wrong. The badmouthing and slander stopped when I told them that, and then it went on to "It'll be okay"s and "He was being a profanity for a moment there, but you'll be back to friends in no time!"s. They were all white lies and I saw right through them with a reassured smile on my face.
The rest of the year was like that, and then near the end of the school year and when E stopped ignoring me, I finally broke. I couldn't stand all of the people around me. I couldn't stand everyone's flaws, hypocrisies, biases, and inability to see what they were doing wrong. They would blame the teachers for their own faults in class. They would look down on the mainstream kids for doing the same to them, and then call themselves different. They would give cries of help for depression that they were bringing onto themselves. They would love someone one moment and hate them the next so easily.
That last one was the reason why I didn't change back to my old ways after I broke. It's one thing to hide in the shadows, but it's another thing to be cast into them labeled as a liar and a fake and shunned. I was a liar and a fake, and I stated it to myself in the mirror every day to make sure I wouldn't forget. I didn't care as long as the people didn't feel bad. I didn't care, because I was better than those selfish and small-minded people.
And I stopped right at that thought. I'm better? At least they're normal.
That brings me to this session's wonder. I analyzed myself regularly to make sure I didn't contradict what I tried to be, which was nice and fair to everyone, but in turn, it made me depressed and utterly exhausted. I was constantly blaming myself for every bad situation that happened, and I went crazy whenever I felt that I could have made someone else feel bad. I clearly saw atrocious parts that to them were still hazy, and the thought of becoming any bit like them scared me to something like insanity. In my opinion, I was being a good person.
But they were so visibly flawed. I knew they didn't realize it, but they were doing bad things. People look down on those bad things, but don't look down on them, because they're normal. They have flaws that some people accept and other people call them out on behind their backs. Unlike me, they don't fix those flaws and defend them as justified when with further speculation they're obviously not. They were examples of ignorance is bliss. In my opinion, they were being bad people.
So I'm wondering, is it really alright to look down on the bad people when being good is so much more painful?
Hah, I went on a tangent. Back to me.
What do I listen to, you ask?
For me, classical music is awesome. It's beautiful. It's speech without words. I can't seem to get how people can say it's boring when you're listening to the fast ones on a really high volume level, but everyone is entitled to their own opinion. I'm not saying it's bad to think that, so don't misunderstand. Of course, some of it's boring, but still.
Japanese music is awesome. It's beautiful. It's speech without words.
It's great, but not that great. It depends on what you're listening to, but the songs in Japanese that I like are pretty nice. I usually only listen to Japanese though, even though I'm pure American, by my definition of 'pure American', of course. (For some reason, I think the phrase 'Crazy Americans' whenever I say/type/read the word) I don't speak it, but it sounds awesome, even when spoken. I think Arabic is the prettiest language when written though. Squiggly lines and dots. Then again, the Latin alphabet is squiggly lines and dots...actually, everything written probably is...the human hand wobbles so much that we can't draw a straight line.
What's my favorite movie, you ask?
In my adult world, Paprika by Satoshi Kon. He's a genius in making films, and it inspires my style of writing and way of thinking. Paprika, like other movies I like, have to do with surreal disability-like conditions and a sad, misunderstood past. Satoshi Kon also made a series called Paranoia Agent. It's creepy, and I love it. He also made a funny movie called Tokyo Grandfathers, and a psychotic thriller called Perfect Blue. None of these movies are for immature people who get offended or giddy at seeing nudity in a movie. 'Oh My! They showed it! On public television too!' But seriously, Perfect Blue isn't for children.
In my childish world, My Neighbor Totoro by Miyazaki Hayao. He creates wonderful children's movies that teach lessons in a similar but lighter way to Satoshi Kon. Princess Mononoke, Laputa Castle in the Sky, Howl's Moving Castle, Spirited Away, and Kiki's Delivering Service were also made by him, and are on my list of favorites as well.
In essence, I like movies that make me think.
What's my favorite book, you ask?
Wah. Wah WAh WAH.
I recently gave in to public fashion and read The Hunger Games. For those reading this who've read that and Catching Fire and Mockingjay, yeah. I said before that I don't have favorite books, but...but...but...wah. I went so far as buying the series, I'm so surprised at myself. Lucky I decided to read a couple days before the final book came out, otherwise my fingernails would be reduced to stubs of jagged nothingness in anticipation.
I'd say more about the story itself, but I'd give out spoilers unintentionally. Really. I'm incapable of censoring anything in words ._. Still, get some tissues.
I thought of reading it when I noticed my grammar slipping in some forms of my writing, so I thought why not try something scary?. Then I remembered a couple years back, when I would hear all of these people, even teachers, talk about this book called The Hunger Games, and how it was so gruesome. So I read it. In a day.
I hated the ending.
But then I still had this...nagging feeling that I was missing something and that I shouldn't be seeing the ending that bad after all. And so, when I took the book back to the library, standing next to it was a girl with the sequel, unknowingly taunting me with her presence. My ignorant self didn't even know there was a sequel. As soon as someone returned theirs, I grabbed it
The start and near end of the book is what destroyed my hating of the first book's end. I finally understood (slowness) why the main character turned to mush so easily.
I went back to the library to find the third one after having the mind to look at the publishing date of the book and compare it to the previous one, but it wasn't there. I considered that maybe the library didn't have it yet and went to a bookstore (starts with a B) (No, not Bookstore, the name of the store) to find if it was out yet, since it was so popular it had to at least be there.
Before I even reached for the handle on the door, I saw a bright blue poster for the third book of the series. I felt giddy when it said coming out on the 24th! at the bottom. Satisfied, I left.
But oh. Another day at the school made me anxious. Children had finally started talking about the book coming out, and how it was the last. Both facts kind of killed me. The fact that the book was the end made me anticipate the book's release to such a degree that I had that excited I feel like I've just been stabbed with the knife of joy! strange kind of feeling, but the talking was worse. All these children talking about how they'd go to the bookstore and buy it as soon as their parents could get there and stuff, while I am sitting and waiting for a library to get it. Not that I knew library-gets-popular-book rates, but I was worried.
Before I knew it, I had the book reserved. Losing it would be like losing a lover to the elements on a cold winter night ._. I actually had that thought and wrote it down as a joke. It's corny and dumb, I know.
But yeah, on the drive home, I was surprised at myself. To be honest, I don't buy books. I don't buy books, I don't buy books. At least until now. (This reminds me of that time in 7th grade where I said I don't wear earrings. I don't wear dumb girly earrings. and ended up wearing it anyway ._.) (Please, don't ask)
The day it came out, I took my time getting to the store. It was a lazy day, but the real reason was that I was so confident that the book would be there when I got there. I meant to go that day, but I ended up sleeping early, so yeah. The next day, I went to the store in the afternoon and saw some guy darting around the store strangely. I wanted to see what was up with him and loitered around the manga section. Finally I saw him take a box out of somewhere and head toward this nearly empty rack-stand-thing at the front of the store.
I hadn't noticed that the few books that were left on the rack-stand-thing were all Mockingjay. I realized that when I saw the guy open the box and take out one. When the guy finished, a cloud of kids went to the shelf and picked some up. The gathering youth remotivated me to hurry up and get a book. I went to a desk to pick up my reserved copy, and the lady at the desk was busy with something. I impatiently went to that guy who'd been darting around earlier and asked about it, since I'd never reserved a book before in my life. He kindly went to a desk and started typing. I then asked where I could pick up the other two books, and he even more kindly told me they were selling the box set at a big discount and that it would save me ten bucks to buy a pizza. I ended up getting the pizza.
And when I finished the last book in the series, I cried very unmanly tears into fluffy tissue. It was so good and bad and fitting to my mental views on some things that I declared the series to be my favorite book.
So at the end, I guess I don't have a favorite book. Nope, I don't favorite books. They're too short.
And before someone yells, "Then what's you're favorite STORY? Gotcha there, didn't I? Eh heh heh heh!" at the screen, my favorite story has been and always will be "The Little Match Girl" There are so many references to that story that I laugh myself into tears remembering all of them. So nyah.
Who's my favorite author, you ask?
I don't have one. Some people would say the author of their favorite story, but the book doesn't make the author. It makes the author's money. I have yet to find an author that has a consistency that pleases me enough to be called my favorite.
What type of stories do I like, you ask?
Stories that portray people as their character, stories that portray people as the author's view of that character, people that portray people as strange beings with the odd claim that 'it's their story, it's their rules, they can do whatever they want', are what I call fail. Believe it or not, each character created by a published author has a personality. They don't change, but what the audience thinks of them changes. When people warp that into their own thoughts, or just copy from the audience's view of the character, or completely eat the character's being and only leave their name being the same, that isn't using the character. That's making another character with the same name.
Each character is a person and will not change unless they are not or were never human. Humans have a thing called personality that restrict them from doing things. A shy girl will not offer to bandage up an attractive boy that she likes. A cheerful person will not suddenly experience something sad and become the stereotypical emo. A truly sad person will not be brought to happiness and leave their past behind them. People don't change like that, and neither do anime characters. They're people too. Anyone who ignores that fact in a story will not truly be able to say it's a fanfic of that particular character. That's not opinion, it's fact. You can prove it wrong, and you can prove it right. I choose to do neither. I'm not saying those fics are bad, I'm saying they're not fics of that particular character, like I said a couple sentences ago.
I favor original characters.
Mary Sues. Gary Sues. They're rocks set in stone. They're not people. I love them. I get to make fun of their overly predictable lives. They end up happy. Or they die happy. That's it. Those aren't people. Aren't stories about people? ("They're about animals too!" "Animals that act and feel like people." "You...You lie!" "Go back and read your little Charlotte's Web." "I'll do just that!") Usually with those stories, I just read the first few chapters, skim through the middle chapters, and skip directly to the end if it's finished.
Overdone OCs are horribly predictable.
If they're happy, they're perky and persistent, clumsy, stubborn, and fall in love by having this one moment that makes them realize nice things about the character they're paired up with.
If they're sad, they're violent or uninvolved with people, don't care much for an appearance that magically makes them look good, have a past including death or someone else's death, dwell on said past, and fall in love by having the character they're paired with bring them everlasting happiness.
If they're normal, they end up really being the happy or the sad type. Or they end up having crazy things happen to them and get god-modded like a main character, get some really awesome powers, save the day, and fall in love by the character they're paired with thinking they're awesome.
Those kinds of OCs are hilarious.
I don't favorite those stories.
What type of stories do I write, you ask?
I write the type that make you think. I love the ones that I have to figure out to fully understand. Like the fact that the movie Paprika was really about the policeman, and nothing else, even though he only showed up less than half the time. In my fics, if you don't understand it, read it again. If you still don't understand it, ask me, I'll explain it in detail. I'm glad to help people understand what I write, because there are times when it's hard for even myself to understand it, and that should make it even harder for the reader.
I also write the light and fluffy type with no relevance to anything important. Slice of Life, I believe. I love those, and I seem to be good at writing meaningless things, as far as I can see. They remind me of the happy times, like in kindergarten, when I didn't have to worry about all life's troubles. Back when I could still play sports with the boys. Now, if I did that, people would whisper.
What do I get annoyed to see in stories, you ask?
That thing called a Cliche. It's that thing in some OC fanfics that makes you know what's going to happen in the end, just because it's there. Most commonly done to Hitsugaya in Bleach fanfics. (Or at least that's what I see. They're the ones I read the most) For example: Hitsugaya fanfics with the OC having a dragon-named zanpakuto. ('Wow, our zanpakutos are both dragons, that means we're meant for each other!') In most cases, it's supposed to refer to the fact that zanpakutos are a manifestation of the person's soul, and if two people's zanpakutos are similar, then they are too, and therefore are somewhat soulmates. Smart, deep, makes sense, but you see it so much that the meaning of it kills itself.
Another example: Fanfics that have the OC being the exact opposite of the subject character. This is shown in looks, personality, height, interests, and a whole bunch of other stuff. Easy example of this example is again, Hitsugaya from Bleach. ('We're complete opposites, he with short white hair, me with long black. Him loving work, me hating its guts. Him quiet, me loud. His zanpakuto is ice, mine is fire. His favorite color is green, mine red! Have you ever heard the saying, 'Opposites attract'? We're made for each other!') Opposites attract. Another overused thing. Beautifully used originally, but too overdone. Plus, in that particular case (what I wrote in italics), the marriage wouldn't work. ('I sleep on the left side of the room!' 'Well, I sleep on the right!' 'I eat sandwiches with the crusts, why do you keep cutting them off?!' 'I hate crusts!' 'Why are the walls green?!' 'I LIKE green!' 'Stop being so lazy!' 'Stop working so much, you workaholic!' 'I'm not a workaholic!' 'I want a divorce!' 'Finally, we agree!') I can see that happening a lot.
But look! A cliche that's not a cliche! It's that thing where your story takes place in Japan, and your OC has black hair. Even from anime, the normal people have black hair. Most Japanese are born with black hair, I believe, if they're not mixed with another race somewhere in their family tree. In a sense it's a cliche, but it's not in a way. But since it's anime, it doesn't matter. Look at all the strange and unexplained hair colors in there! In Higurashi no naku koro ni, people have green hair. Last I heard, that's not possible without hairdye. I find myself laughing at haircolors sometimes, ('What the crap?! They have purple hair? XD) but it's nothing bad. I laugh, but then again I laugh when people fall. It's not bad when people fall, is it? So it's not bad when the hair colors are outrageous. Nor is it bad that a lot of people have black hair.
Though people tend to do these cliches, having them isn't that bad as long as they're not really focused on. Then again, who am I to just decide that's fine? I did it too! One of my OCs has black hair that's long, and Hitsugaya's hair is the exact opposite. My OC has a zanpakuto that sorta deals with heat, and his is the exact opposite (of heat). Both zanpakutos could take the form of dragons. (HAH! You shouldn't be talking! You did it too, hypocrite!') What? Dancing Dragon is an awesome name. I don't like short hair, and black is just so plain yet special. I like it. The zanpakuto deals with light, and fire really is light anyway, so that was inescapable. Similarities and differences like that happen in real life. So in my opinion, it's fine to do that because I didn't focus on those too much.
But who am I to rate for myself? That's what the readers/reviewers do. All I can really do is rate others.
There's also the subtle predictabililtiness. Not the obvious ones, but the ones that you have to read to see. I'm not talking about the romance thing where the girl/guy either gets the girl/guy at the end, or one/both die. Those kind of are the only two options, unless you want to be technical and put them in a coma. I mean the predictabilitiness like the moments that just are so common with the setting. That's not always a problem, but some scenarios are simply used too much. Like how schools settings usually end with or include a kiss at a dance. Why a dance? Why not a random time in the lunchroom, while everyone sees them. Or how neighborhood/community/town settings (where it has no real setting other than inside a city) usually have a scene happen at someone's house. Why someone's house? Why not a random time in the park while a few families are playing around, and then the adults look at the teens saying,'Ah, young love'?
Why do those things have to be private? If it were really an act of passion, they should have done it somewhere where people could see. That's an accident. From what I think, when you're together with the person you admire deeply, you act extra-cautious, so it's hard for an 'accident' to happen. Really hard. Then again, when you're in public, you do the same thing. But if a person is so involved with their feelings that they forget people are in the room, it becomes one of those gasping scenes. Those are nice. But now I feel I've contradicted myself somewhere. Ah well.
Why don't you see reviews from me on my favorite stories, you ask?
I always want to review every chapter in stories I like, but I can almost never bring myself to. I always want to review every badly written chapter I see, but then I feel as if I'm being mean. So in essence, I don't review unless I HAVE to review. It may seem hypocritical that I urge people to review Things That Are Lost ("You don't review other people's stories, so why do you want them to review yours?") but it has the same effect as when another writer says 'Please Review!'. It doesn't force you, but it puts the idea of reviewing in your head. Then, you might review. To be honest, I just put it there for pleasure of the readers, and as sort of a 'thank you for reading', but it basically is the same thing.
What age am I, you ask?
Somehow, due to my good grammar and spelling and how nice I am and my vocabulary, a lot of people came to think at one point that I'm in the young adult range. O_o
In reality, I'm thirty.
In actuality, I'm in my early teens.
Which one is real? I don't know. Neither do you. But I do know that apparently I have a way with words. My poems, according to other people, are professional worthy. They think I should write a book. I think they're thinking too highly of me. I'm going to musical college
What gender am I, you ask?
If I am a girl, I am straight and scared by yaoi love scenes.
If I am a boy, I am as straight as a rainbow and am proud of it.
Either way, me and my deep voice don't care to say.
What are my Likes, you ask?
I have none.
What are my Dislikes, you ask?
I have plenty. But I won't list them.
Don't use chatspeak or leet (I'm not even gonna bother spelling that with the numbers) with me though, it hurts my eyes. And the more than one question mark thing gives me a headache. There's no need, and it makes me feel as if I'm being yelled at ._. Using 'u' for you and 'r' for are and 'da' for the also kind of annoys me too, for personal reasons, but it's fine if that's how you type. I hate broccoli. I just do. I don't like melted cheese, to me it's nyasty. (Nyasty is a word in this Miracle-eater's dictionary) (And no, it is not a combination of Nya and Nasty)
And there you have my dislikes. I didn't list them, I typed them in paragraph form.
What's my Emergency Closure for you, you ask?
Well, seeing that a lot of reviewers complain about some writers just up and leaving a story out of nowhere and never appearing ever again, I want to leave something here for a 'just in case' type of thing. If I haven't updated either my profile or any stories, or my youtube thingy without any warning, you all are free to believe I have died. I wouldn't just up and leave you wonderful readers hanging on the edge of a story or something, and I'm sure that might have happened to some people out there...maybe. Anyway, the point is, if you don't see Kisekikui anywhere where it seems like I would go, I'm dead. I'm not being sarcastic; this is serious business.
That being said, if that happens, don't carry on my Kisekikui-ness and be a Kisekikui somewhere else. I wanna patent this name, but I don't think I can unless I publish something ._. So please, don't use my name. The only people allowed to use Kisekikui know it already. Sorry, there aren't any open positions either.
Which reminds me. I googled Kisekikui once to see how big my google was, and I saw an article written by a Kisekikui. Don't do that.
A Cauliflower is a female Broccoli.
A Doughnut is a female Bagel.
A Cupcake is a female Muffin.
I don't care what graphic tees you saw that on, I thought those up all on my own.
What in the world do I think I am, you ask yourself.
I think I am the myself that everyone hates. But I also think I am a good person on the outside, so does it really matter? Like the famous, people still love me : )
Now enough of me taking up the page with my conceited comments about myself! Time for me to go back to modest mode ._. Below you can find my first, and only, series fanfic. It'll probably be the only one I write, (but keep that a secret).
On the internet? Yeah right.
You can also find a fanfic for Abarai Renji. The Fairy. (Language Arts and English teachers worldwide will say I should put that in quotes, but I don't care, to be honest) I neglected him in Things That Are Lost, and I decided to make it up to him. It might be a bit confusing due to the fact that I wanted people to think about what happened so they can feel sorry for Renji. Poor guy. And poor pomegranate.