#whipplefilter

And there's his motivation, which were made clearer by the end of the Arrancar arcs, but then you get to TYBW arc, and you wonder why he does some of the things he does, why he acts around Ichigo and Yhwach the way he does, why he [out of all of the characters in BLEACH] makes that monologue at the end.

I'll say this now; [SPOILERS IF YOU'RE READING AN UNWAVERING LIGHT] there's a scene towards the end involving him and Hinamori that I'm still going back and forth on. I really, REALLY want to keep it in the story because I feel it puts a nice bow on Hinamori's arc, but on the other hand I worry he's not in character and that the scene comes across as indulgent (on the other hand, half of the reason fanfic is around is because of indulgence, so...). There's also a flashback coming up in the next chapter in which I worry he's too transparent to Hinamori.

Still, I like to challenge myself, and writing for Aizen definitely been a challenge, but an interesting one.

33. Is there anything you wish your audience knew about your writing or writing process?

It's more of a 'fun' fact I guess: for most of my fics that are over 1000 words long, I have another document I keep open with the essential info I need to know throughout the story. It has info for:

what the fic's about

specific scenes I've imagined that need to happen

the general plot points from start to finish

the most important parts of the fic or things that I need to pick on again

bits of research from BLEACH's canon and irl

deleted scenes that I might be able to fit into the fic at some point

music I as listening to while writing that I thought really hit me emotionally or that I thought would be good background music for the scene/s.

Here's a few examples of a note I wrote for different sections of the document or for An Unwavering Light's document:

From chapter 4 onward, Hitsugaya's left arm is different. Whenever a friend character holds his hand or touches his arm for the first time since FKT battle, they notice it's different - softer hand, lacking scars they've seen in the past, etc'

Chap 2: Hitsugaya and Tier share some similarities (don't suffer fools glady, are stoic, have very few connections but deeply care about and are loyal to those few, both betrayed by Aizen) and are both willing to sacrifice their lives for those they care about. Even then, Tier clearly has some strong views on sacrifice that Hitsugaya doesn't 100% share. Explore this later down the line, perhaps in a Hitsugaya dream sequence? Or what his reaction to her becoming the queen of Hueco Mundo is?

Chapter 2: the words Hinamori doesn't register at the time from Aizen are [SPOILERS]; use this in chapter where shes forced to remember them or when she finally [SPOILERS] in the last few chapters.

Keeping circling back to the dream sequence. It changes every time Hitsugaya progresses in his training. The last one happens when [SPOILERS].

Scene where Hinamori and Renji meet up briefly. She recalls Academy Days again when he was skeptical of Aizen and Gin. She says she should have listened to Renji more back then, but he brushes it off, saying he was deceived in the end as well. Hinamori concludes it doesn't matter how Renji knew Aizen wasn't what he seemed and decides to remember the students who died that day instead.

I make these sort of notes so that I don't forget the essentials of the fic, don't repeat myself [too much, at least ^^;] and to keep on track. It doesn't always work out and I forget to include something or circle back to something when I probably should have, but I think it'd better than going in without anything to keep you on track, particularly for chapter fics .

My first theory is that maybe dragons and Hollows used to be spread out evenly but then the presence of one destroyed the other and they ended up becoming more common in different regions (as in, either dragons kill Hollows or Hollows kill dragons, and thus where there are dragons Hollows are rarer and vice versa), and that while the Eastern and Western branches of Soul Society worked together at first, they eventually got distance due to not working in the same region of the world.

My second theory is that perhaps instead people always had higher spiritual pressure around Japan for some reason, and so Hollows always gathered there, while dragons were native to Europe, and that at some point in History both branches of Soul Society heard of each other and planned on teaming up, but then eventually drifted apart for some reason - perhaps, again, because of physical distance, or maybe due to some disagreement.

My third theory is that dragons were only able to thrive due to an absence of Hollows. Since Quincy speak German culture-wise, perhaps there were a lot in Europe before all the conflicts with Soul Society and that they took out Hollows so much that dragons were able to thrive and eventually either the dragons overpowered the Hollows on their own, or there are maybe still many Quincy there that take out the Hollows but were too far from all the conflicts to be wiped out by Soul Society (after all, we know they missed a family of Quincy or two in their extermination, so(2)).

My last theory is that perhaps Reverse London used to be an afterlife of some kind, and that Soul Society and them either had a disagreement or separated in some way - perhaps one became closer to the Living World and the other further, and that led to the two becoming two completely different dimensions with nothing to do with each other. One would thus have become a 'complete' afterlife, while the other would have drifted into a place for the Living to gather, or is perhaps some kind of limbo. It would explain the name 'Western Branch of Soul Society', since they would indeed be one half of Soul Society that just took a different path from the Eastern one.

[(2) I actually expect there to be quite the number of Quincy families left, not only in the Living World, but also in Soul Society. I don't know how Soul Society could possibly have tracked down Quincy that didn't want to get involved in the conflict (I assume there were many - fighting common Hollows isn't really as risky as fighting Soul Reapers after all, and Yhwach isn't exactly a kind leader one would generally want to follow), nor why Quincy wouldn't go to Soul Society when they die. Perhaps the ones who went to Soul Society then got recruited to Yhwach's army, but I don't see how that would work exactly, and I still stand by many of them probably not wanting to get involved in the conflict. So it would make sense for there to be Quincy hanging out in Soul Society somewhere trying not to get noticed so Soul Reapers are not sent to take them down.]

“We’re on Daytona Beach, baby!It’s time for the 500! We all been sittin’ around all winter with nothin’ todo, Kori, let’s go see what’s happenin’ around the garage. The racers arechompin’ at the bit to get out there on the track. Come on, camera guy! Let’sgo talk to ‘em.”

Darrell removes his sunglasses, throwsthem to a nearby fan, leaves his drink behind and makes a beeline for thenearest garage stall. Kori shrugs a sigh of relief as her cameraman takes off tofollow Cartrip instead, ending her air time for the moment.

“What’s it gonna be next time,Bob?” she asks over their private comm. “We’re running out of Where’s Waldoideas for this old goof.”

“Eh, lethim have his fun. One day we’ll miss him.”

_

Sounds of pit guns and thescent of race gas fill the air and mix with the salty beach breeze. There’s nota single cloud marring the sky, a forecast that isn’t supposed to change.February doesn’t feel this good anywhere else in the world.

“Florida! It doesn’t get anybetter than this, I tell you what,” Darrell takes it all in as he approachesthe nearest garage bay. “Let’s see who we got around here. Oh! Look! HeyShiftright – Kevin! Come ‘ere.”

The camera crew pushes theirway through what’s clearly a private team meeting. One of the pitties thinksquick and reaches over to turn off the screens they’d been analyzing. The tracedata from practice earlier that day doesn’t need to be in the background of anycameras, especially RSN’s.

“Uh – hey there, Darrell,”Kevin responds. He looks as though he’s just woken up from a nap.

“I see you’re discussin’strategy for the race today – “

“Yeah. We are.”

“You’ve gotta be hungry aftercoming in second in points last year.” Darrell repeats the story that’s plaguedthe racer all winter. “This close to getting’your name up there with the family – what’s it gonna take this year?”

“Um, well,” Kevin struggles toswitch contexts from throttle usage and fuel consumption to his glamorousfamily history. “I mean, we’re going to do everything we can. We’re hungry, welet it get away from us last year, we’re gonna give it all we got.”

“We’re not supposed to root fory’all, y’know, being in the booth an’ all,” Darrell admits, looking directlyinto the camera, “but I got my money on the Clutch Aid team this year. You’llget it done.”

“Thanks, Darrell.”

The despondent response doesn’tregister with the broadcaster in the slightest. As abruptly as he comes, he’soff to the next garage bay with a personality present.

“Look!” Darrell exclaims to thecamera yet again. “Brush Curber, my man! Wow, last year just wasn’t what wethought it’d be for the number 56, how’re ya feelin’ about this season? Did yasee that Rocker Arms is gonna be back on the schedule – you were a real ringerat that place back in the day!”

“Oh hey, Darrell, uh – yeah,sure.”

The restof the garage sees Darrell coming a mile away and hustles off, hoping to avoidbecoming the next victim of blunt live television. Suddenly, there are many extrasets of tires that need taken to pit lane.

One racersticks around. No one knows who it is, or why he’s hanging out near some oldrusty tourists from last century. But he flashes a smile and ends up getting thirty seconds of television time.

_

“Alright, here we go folks,cars are rolling down pit lane, getting the season started down here inFlorida. Thanks for joining me in the booth, Darrell.”

“The Florida 500, ain’t nobetter race than this one right here, Bob.”

The cameras pan to the firstcars in the starting grid as they enter the banking on the track. A quartermillion fans feel the slight rumble of race engines resonate through thestands, all the way to the top. It’s electric. Flashing lights and screams and cheersand everything in between form pure pandemonium that echoes out to sea.

“Let’s run through the startinglineup, eh Darrell? Time to pass things down to our friends on pit road for theday’s highlights.”

“Thank you, Bob.” Kori takescommand of the show with ease.

The cameras pan to the frontrow as the racers line up side by side. Somewhere, hundreds of miles away inNorth Carolina, there is a room full of cars taking in a hundred differentstreams of video, overlaying them with premade, dynamic visual aids, pickingand choosing the most relevant ones at a moment’s notice.

The television viewers see theracers two at a time as they go through the field.

“After the year he had lastyear it’s not a surprise to see Kevin Shiftright on the pole today – after theincident at last year’s Dinoco 400 where the crew chief called for too muchtape and ultimately cost them their championship, this team is back and readyto fight. Will this be the season that Kevin’s spent his entire life preparingfor? We’re about to find out.

“Starting on the front row withhim, to no one’s surprise, The King, Strip Weathers. It’s gonna be hard to beathim on this all-throttle superspeedway. If he’s got clean air, he’s a force tobe reckoned with.

“Row two! Dale Earnhardt Jr.and Chick Hicks. Watch out for Junior on these speedways, he’s one of the bestin the draft. Unfortunately, Chick had some unapproved changes this morning, andwill start at the rear of the field. They had to replace a rear axle after anincident in qualifying where he caught some bad air and ended up in the grass.Should be fun watching him tear through the field today, again, an excellentdrafter in these conditions. Back to you, Bob!”

“Thanks, Kori,” Bob adjustedhis gaze back to the camera in the booth and began to read the teleprompter.

“Other noteworthy mentionsthroughout the field, look at row seven – Misti Motorkrass and Ruby Oaks! Theseladies certainly have the skill, but will they have the luck to make it to theend of the race today?”

“I think we’re all hoping theydo, Bob. And look at this! Row 5, a rookie with a brand new race team this year– that’s a combination we don’t see very often. The name’s Lightning McQueen,starting P9 today, not a bad run for a first-timer!”

“And one more racer to the rearof the field today, Johnny Blamer.”

“Yeah, poor guy didn’t even tryto put up a competitive qualifying lap, he didn’t want to tear himself uppreemptively. And then! Sent to the rear anyways for failing inspection threetimes. What a day this guy’s had.”

“And I’m sure it won’t end there,Darrell, but we’ll hope for the best.”

The lights go out on the pacecar. One to go. The field cruises through turns one and two, raking their tiresback and forth across the pavement. Any rubber that had been laid down duringqualifying is now nonexistent.

They enter turn three and thefield bunches up behind the leaders, nose to tail all the way through thefield. The cacophony emanating from the grandstands crescendos.

Darrell takes a deep breath.

“Boogityboogity boogity! Let’s go racin’, boys and girls!”

-

The racers make it withoutincident until lap eighty-two. The usual Florida incident, the accordion effectclaims four victims. Well, more than that, really, but only four are taken outof the race. Half the crowd loves it, the other half moans.

The crowd millingaround the television on the roof top club over in Miami barely notices.

“Well, we hoped, didn’t we,”Bob remarks.

“Poor guy, ol’ Magnet Face didn’tstand a chance, did he? And he’d gained so many positions!”

Darrell’s right. Blamer hadclimbed a whopping 23 positions riding the draft around the upper lane, drivinghis tail off. But this progress hasn’t been noted by anyone up on top of theSkyline Edges Tower in Miami. There’s this stuff going around – it’s new,designer even. Just a sprinkle in a motorjito makes the neon brighter and thenight a little faster.

Harv glances up from the blackcoupe next to him, she’s not of much interest anymore. Her eyes do notmove from their fixation in the middle distance, and all the whipped cream thathad been smeared all over her hood has been artfully disposed of.

He doesn’t know racing, nothingabout strategy or pit stops or lap time. Only sponsors and marketing andpromotions and money. It’s all about the money. Racing is money. Those thatwreck? They get less of it. That’s important.

“Look at that! The rookie justbarely made it through. Wow!”

Harv doesn’t know who DarrellCartrip is, but he hates his voice. That southern hilljack’s squeaky highpitched exclamations cut right through the lucid flow of his evening. He canhear it over the bass pumping out of the DJ’s speakers. He can hear it over thetraffic on the busy streets below it. He hatesit.

There’s a flash of red acrossthe screen as the cameras zoom in.

Not bad, kiddo. He thinks asthough he saw what happened. Maybe that racer wasn’t just all confidence and noshow. Of course he was show. Harv deals in show.

McQueen needs to be more motorthan mouth – or at least as much. That old codger over there in the cornerbalcony smothering himself with two young Jaguars just signed a contract as asecondary sponsor for three races this year. Ol’ Rudy Rollcage offers asignificant monetary bonus if McQueen lands him a top five finish.

Harv pushes the coupe away andreaches for her drink. She’s not going to need it. He downs it in a single goand backs away from the bar to peruse the other side of the rooftop. It’s notthirty seconds before he bumps into someone familiar. She doesn’t have a name, andif it weren’t for her voice, he wouldn’t even recognize her.

“I’ve got something new for youto try,” she purrs.

“Don’t threaten me with a goodtime, baby,” he mumbles.

She pulls him away from theclub floor back towards a stairwell door. They pass a betting table halfwayacross - these things are everywhere across the city. Miami is a sports city,after all. Isn’t it? He doesn’t know.

He throws ten grand out on thetable. Five on his rookie. The other five? Uh, that one old guy. The pointyone. Harv loves a risky gamble. But something’s telling him to hedge his bets.

Prove yourself, kid.

_

Lap eighty-two. Lapninety-seven. Then a long green run, until someone tries to pit under greenfrom the outside lane. They won’t need that extra tank of gas.

The Florida 500 is always along race. It’s been dark for a while before they hit the final hundred laps,and the later it gets the more electric the crowd becomes. The concessions sellDinoco Light at half price during the last third of the race, trying to sell outas much stock as they can. Profits are so high during this event that thoselast few thousands of dollars they might have made don’t matter. Pennies in the pocket of one Tex Dinoco.

Imbibing copious amounts ofthinned down oil is the last thing the racers want to think about. They’re ahundred laps from a chance at glory. They push and they bump and the draftbecomes visible to everyone in the lead pack.

There’s a certain breed ofracers that can feel the draft better than the others. Those that are moresensitive to the change in air pressure and how it flows past their boxy bodiesfrom two decades ago. When you can’t cut through air, you flow with it.

And when you can’t pass on yourown, you do something about it.

Thirty laps to go and the BigOne happens. Not that the other wrecks haven’t been significant, but this one straightup trashes the field. Billy Oilchanger hits the infield grass and fliestrunk-first into the inside wall. Ruby finds herself on an unwanted date withthe tow truck after sailing into Greg Candyman off of turn two. Fourteen other cars receive damage.

Chick cruises off like nothinghappened, true to form. Ahead of him now there’s maybe half a dozen cars. Bythe time the Piston Cup track crews clean up that mess, there’ll be maybe tento go. If they don’t red flag the race for a while. If that happens, theneighteen to go.

Henotices that new kid on the track, a few spots ahead of him. What a gaudy paintjob, who uses reflective stickers? What’s his name? Doesn’t matter much. Hah.Next target: acquired. Time to show the newbies who they’re messing with.

_

“White flag is out!” BobCutlass makes the call nearly an hour later.

“Man, the way cautions breedcautions, I didn’t think we were ever gonna finish this race!” Darrellexclaims. “These cautions’ve been like Catholic rabbits in a – “

“Look at that!” Bob cuts hispartner off. “Lightning McQueen, making the move on veteran racer Chick Hicks!”

“Oh, be careful now.” Darrellrolls forward towards the booth window as though it’ll help him see better.

The scene below will soonbecome a theme for the rest of the season. Three cars lead the pack. Out front,The King, cutting through the air effortlessly, a force to bereckoned with as long as he’s not in lapped traffic. In second place andclosing considerably, the young – what’s his name? – Lightning McQueen! Andright on his tail, drafting so close it looks like he’s pushing, Hicks.

“I’m surprised Chick hasn’tturned him yet!” Darrell points out.

“I don’t think he can getaround to his corner panel to even try – oh! Watch out, McQueen!”

The cars enter turn three andChick dives to the inside lane to try and take the short route around.Lightning beats him to it. He’s faster, no question about it, he simply speeds upand takes the low line in front of Hicks.

“Wow, you wouldn’t think thiswas his first race at this level, Darrell, look at that move! He’s drifted backto Chicks bumper to use his momentum to go even faster.”

“I always said, eight tires arebetter than four, and two engines better than one! They’re coming off of four –they’re gonna give ol’ King a run for his money!”

“To the checkered flag theycome and - !”

It’s a good move, but it’slate. Lightning finishes his first race in second place by half a car length.Chick growls in frustration and considers punting the rookie in to the infieldunder caution for holding him up. Usually not opposed to such an impulse, Chicksimmers a moment. No, this will be useful. This race is already over. Save therematch for when it really matters, the rookie will get it then.

“What a way to start theseason!” The broadcast turns to Kori down on pit road next to the winner’s pit stall. The Dinoco pitties areslinging drinks around and screaming and jumping up and down behind her. “Fresh off thatlong-awaited seventh Piston Cup championship last year, Weathers pulls off hisseventh Florida 500 win!”

“Lucky number seven!” Darrell shoutsout of turn.

“Let’s talk to – “ Kori isnearly mowed over by crew member Pettlework as the other pitties haphazardlyfling him into the air in celebration.

“Let’s talk to crew chief RogerWheeler,” Kori says as the pickup truck in question backs off the pit box tojoin his crew in celebration. “Roger, what does this win mean to you, yourteam?”

There are what seem likeseveral long, long moments of chaos before Roger answers her. One of thepitties grabs the camera and screams into the lens. The others start chanting “Go!Go! Dinoco!” while their racer burns it down behind them across thestart-finish line. There’s confetti flying around already – where did that comefrom? The pitties dump an entire bucket of Nitroade on Roger’s hood.

“Kori, it’s – it’sunbelievable,” Roger finally manages to say into the microphone as he shakesthe fluid off. “Flawless execution today, everyone hit their marks. Every oneof these wins is special – and especially this one. We just won the Florida500, baby! Come on, boys, let’s go!”

The entire crew sweeps past thelone pit reporter and her cameraman to rush across the field and swarm theirracer in celebration. The crowd is still cheering.

“There you have it, Bob andDarrell, not taken for granted!”

“Man, how long’s he gonna beable to do this? He’s been unstoppable for decades!”

“You’dknow, Darrell.”

_

Victory Lane is never anorderly place to be, much less on a night like this. Sponsor plugs and photoops and confetti covered interviews are just the start of it. The Dinoco tentin the background sounds like a nightclub, and for all anyone knows, maybe itis. The fans are slow to trickle out of the stands, they want to hear each andevery interview with each and every racer over the loud speaker.

The podium stage is where theofficials let the most media members in. They’re restrained to their ownspecial roped off section, but they’re packed in there like grease on abearing. The top three cars atop the staggered rises – the legend, the rookie,and the runner-runner-up. Only two are happy to be there. Only two seem open toanswering questions and discussing the race.

One media representative, someguy named Jeff Truck from a newspaper all the way out in Seattle, poses aninteresting question.

“An amazing run by McQueentoday, can’t say I ever remember a rookie performing at that level on asuperspeedway his first time. Congrats. But my question is to Mr. The King –seven championships and now seven Florida 500s – based on what you saw today, youthink you can break your championship record tie with Earnhardt and go foreight this year?”

“Well, it’s like this,”Weathers hesitates a moment before answering. “I never dreamed of bein’ on thesame level as Dale was. We miss him more every day, it’s an honor to even becompared to ‘im.”

The King hesitates a secondlonger before continuing. He’s sure of what he’s got to say, it’d been on hismind all off season, and all during Speedweeks. He glances down at Lightningfor the briefest of moments. That kid’s nothing but speed. He’s nothing buttalent, despite the rough edges and the smart mouth and – well. Everythingelse.

But Strip knows a newgeneration when he sees one. It happened in the 80’s. It happened again in the90’s. But this – this is something completely different. It’s almost a relief,to be in the position he is, having had a fulfilling career in so many ways. Heknows so many washed up racecars from days past that didn’t get to choose whenthey quit. He knows how miserable an exit from the top tier of racing can bewhen one is unprepared and unwilling to go.

He knows that he will end hiscareer on his own terms.

“We’re gonna go for eight thisyear. It’ll be my last opportunity to do so, and I intend on makin’ the most ofit.”

There’s silence. Then chaos. PistonCup officials intervene, thinking there’s a riot. It’s just 90 differentquestions being asked at once.

But that’s it.

The King’sjust won his seventh 500 trophy and now he’s going to retire.

_