Dedications / Author's Note:
(What you see below was written in the spirit of NaNo -- shameless, shameless wordcount grubbing. To which, I'll abbreviate the dedications: Thanks friends, thanks characters, everyone else go die. Oh, and the canon's not mine.
(By the way, though this is ostensibly a Spider-Man / Yami no Matsuei crossover, it really doesn't show. I'm sorry, okay?)
Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. Firstly, I wrote a really heinous crossover parody with more OOC than can be measured in the traditional buckets. Secondly, I put creepy twincest in it – and in a fandom that condones an even, in my opinion, creepier pairing or two (ahem ahem, I think you know which I mean but I'll fill you in anyway – anything involving Muraki and either Tsuzuki or Hisoka – also, why does my spellchecker already okay words I've never used in it before, namely those three character names?), even that's pretty damn strange.
Thirdly, I dedicated this heinous twincest crossover parody to a metric fucktonne of people, some of whom will never read their dedications. To which, the dedications, followed by more confession, which is indeed very good for the soul.
Saphira112 – thanks for being Ms. Research Assistant and playing OOC Oriya to my OOC Muraki. On second thought, that metaphor possibly contains more heinous wrongness than the entire heinous twincest crossover parody. Which is saying a lot.
Mrs. Clark, the completely awesome one. Who is possibly the entire reason – nay, the entire reason I embarked on fanfiction that was intended for people to see. To make a rather longish story short, she introduced me to When the Wind Blows, The Lake House, and Invitation to The Game. You may be familiar with the former two, but likely not with the latter one. It's a science fiction story, upon which I based my first (heinously awful) fanfiction. Which was rather epic. To which, the next dedication.
Tirna and the like. I'm terribly sorry that I made you do all those very reprehensible things that only a creepy eleven-year-old can even conceive of. I'm sorry that I dumped an author surrogate on you. But I had to start somewhere, and that was with you. (Reader, I'm actually reworking their story, but er – it's become an original, so you'll never see it unless I decide to finish and publish it. In which case it will be under my real name and you have almost no chance of finding it because I hate my real name and never use it if I can.) I think I'll actually share you with the rest of the world, just for shits and giggles.
Muraki's endless parade of Creepy Fangirls, which I capitalize because I can, and because that really needs emphasis. (There are too many things that just gross me out, but infinitely fewer that give me a headache to think about. Two of which are the actual date of the Russian Revolution and Muraki's fangirls.) You don't know me very well if you have the bravery to plow this, so I'll just mention that you have fabulous taste in music. Maybe I think you're a little creepy, but goddamn, music makes up for it.
Myself, both of me, because goddammit, I'm feeling narcissistic right now. I would explain the "both of me" bit, but it's both highly personal and not as disturbing as it sounds. Really.
Headvoices, whether the regulars or the occasionals, because maybe you're all a bunch of creepy old bastards or maybe you're all a bunch of really nice guys. Either way, you have your own novel now, so shut it.
Tsuzuki's Apple Pie – no seriously. I'm sorry about stealing your manga, but… well, it just doesn't sound good when I say, "Research" or "Headvoices begged me to". Let's go with "Wanted to reread my favorite volumes". Also I just thought I should note it's your fault about this next one.
Hisoka, because one you're cute, two you're fictional, three because people don't think it's creepy when you profess love to a fictional character (welcome to the Internet, we have furries), and four apparently we look alike. (This is TAP's fault, and I will attempt to explain. I have short brown hair, green eyes, I'm skinny, and I blush far too much. I am not aware of – and will flat-out and violently deny – any other similarities, so don't even say what I know you're thinking of saying. And believe me, we all know what you're thinking of saying.)
Nathan / Muraki / Alaric / Doctor Clarke. I'm so sorry, but you all look alike and it's my fault. And to the former two, I'm so sorry that I went for the metafiction angle and made you "twins". The latter two… would you believe I had an entire subplot that was to circle around you guys switching places? (If you're lost, as anyone who's not me is, then just know that those two were from my NaNoWriMay, which I don't recall ever giving a title. Hmm. I'll have to get around to that. Anyway, it was intended as a murder-mystery / western set on another planet, which devolved into utter, utter madness. Like this [direct quote) – "Doctor Kazutaka Muraki ran through the room, because we need a plot device, screaming, "Hey look, I haven't got any pants on!" And he ran into the wall.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Doctor Kazutaka Muraki had determined that instead of fortuitously running out the window (which had somehow lost its sill and instead become a floor-to-ceiling window) like everyone else had, he had run into the wall on both the right and left of the window. That's not confusing wording. He ran into both the wall to the left of the window and the wall to the right of the window. At the same time." Shameless wordcount grubbing, see? I went so low as to have characters run out windows. And miss. Oh, and I also gave Tsuzuki a monologue on black, which was bizarre. If you're wondering why he's going by his full name – well, I needed wordcount desperately.)
My pen – which has an interesting story. So, a while ago (September-ish), I got a pen. I soon broke it. It stayed together. This was all after my former favorite pen died, so in sarcastic hopes of keeping this one from dying, I named it Muraki. A while ago, I lost that pen too. Later the same day, I found a pen of the exact same type lying on the floor in one of my classrooms – talk about self-fulfilling prophecy.
Parenthetical asides (which are a heinously good way to waste words while interjecting something masquerading as useful into the conversation) are my savior. Convert today!
Anyone who is actually involved with any of the two copyrighted canons which I played around with below, I apologize. Deeply, because the OOC – well, you can feel it from here. Really, man.
Het fans, I apologize. Well, four men in a coffeeshop, and then they go and ask for a sex scene. What was I to do? Slash was the only option. (And before any of my friends ask… well, yes, Muraki tops. Quit asking. I won't respond.)
Similarly, fans of any of these pairings: Muraki / Tsuzuki (No Tsuzuki, tear. He would have been fun, but hey. I just couldn't find anywhere where he would be a particularly good character to have handy.) , Muraki / Hisoka (Ew get away freak. I will admit to reading some Mur/Tsu sometimes [only the light, happy, totally OOC ones, though, but Mur / His… I just keep scrolling. Faster. Well, I'll admit that I parodied it here, but part of the squick for me comes from the fact that, as I said earlier, I resemble Hisoka somewhat. And this is what I was talking about when I said I knew what you perverts were talking about.) , and Tsuzuki / Hisoka or Hisoka / Tsuzuki, whichever you prefer. Didn't I already say that I didn't leave any room to put Tsuzuki in? (Oh, by the way, though, he does cameo at the very end of my other novel. Go check. Would I lie to you? But still, go check.)
Anna, Shane, Adolph, and Jake. Jake, I'm sorry I never got around to writing your death scene. It was good, I promise it was. Everyone else… well, I wish I could come up with something for you to do this year. At least I got Nathan in – well, he asked to be in, actually. I don't know why, but don't suggest it was because of the sex scene. I hadn't thought of that when I got this idea. Also, that's wrong. It was… well… Wow. There isn't a reason. I guess you're a little bit right.
Nathan. Thank you for putting up with a ridiculously meaning-laden name. At least I let you go by your middle name. (The name on his birth certificate is actually Artaxiad Nathan Prescott. He goes by Nathan and always, when asked for full name, writes "Nathan Artaxiad Prescott". This is one of the reasons he would be nearly impossible to kill via Death Note – even if you spell "Artaxiad" right, you'll have it in the wrong order. Unless you're determined enough to find his birth certificate, in which case you probably have a really good reason to kill him. Although he probably shares some immunity, being that he started off as a Muraki clone – not literally, that is. But he survived not only crucifixion, but also a collapsing building. Beat it, bitches. Also, he lost most of the sight in his right eye because some potassium exploded in it.) And I didn't – well, barely even squicked when you – or was it Muraki – asked for the sex scene. And I didn't just kill you off at the end of that first story you were in – I've had you around for a whole year now. This is very long for my characters, by the way. Most survive maybe six months, then I "box" them and never use them in a story again. Also, thanks for participating in my inept attempt at hot sex scene writing.
Harry. Thank you very much for narrating. You're a dear. (Interestingly, Harry's voice is pretty much mine. I recently described Senioritis – or rather, the process of writing it – as basically writing a diary, adding weird parts, and then finishing by adding weird people. This is basically true, except I don't live in a coffeeshop. I'm God.) Also, by the way… well, I won't say it now. Let's just say that things aren't exactly as you think they are. Yes, he did, but no, they're not. And thanks for not realizing who you really are and always circumlocuting around your actual point. You're kind of like me, and I like that about you. Also, I'd like to slap you for suggesting I'm … attractive. I mean, thanks for the compliment, but… well, you're fictional, I'm not. It would never work. Oh, and I'm jailbait too. And basically it'd be like doing God. Which never, ever works out – it usually ends in a smiting once God's lover leaves the damn toilet seat up again. Oh, I kid, I kid.
The man in black. Damn you, you bastard. I mean, I set myself up for this, but why do you have absolutely no personality? Not being able to cook doesn't count… although apparently your pancakes are fantastic. I'll take that on Harry's word. I'd rather not eat food cooked by a fictional person. Thinking about it makes my head spin.
Muraki. Do I have to say it? You magnificent bastard. (Look, if you're not familiar with the canon, why are you reading this? Let's just say "drove a character to suicide". Although said character did attempt [and seems to have succeeded ! to take Muraki with him. And let's also say, "forgot about bomb on ship". If that's not magnificent bastardry, I don't know what is. Wait, if he'd also threatened to blow up Tokyo… that would be magnificent.) Please thank your fangirls for me. I'm too frightened of them. I mean… you're not too scary. Your fangirls? Oh hell. (This generally works for every awesome villain / magnificent bastard. He's cool. His fangirls? Scary as hell. Mainly because most of them don't just think he's cool. They, um… let's just say they think he's dead sexy. Ew. No. God.) Also, I'm so, so sorry for making you both the Ridiculous Caricature (is not best friends with English – which has, oddly and frighteningly enough, now infected me) and the author insert (heinously forgetful – as in, takes clothes from dryer then comes back downstairs half an hour later to get that same load of clothes out of the dryer).
Meg, who sits next to me in Info. Because without you… er, well thanks for not asking too many weird questions that time I wrote Nathan and Ashley / Muraki getting their sexy on in class. I do wish I'd actually asked you sex questions. However, there are some lines even I won't cross… like that one. Ew. God no. Anyway, thanks for not just up and changing your seat while I wrote hot homo sexings.
And fourthly, I ate the last of the Count Chocula, and goddamn it was good.
If you somehow found any of the above shockingly arousing, I would like to remind you, ladies, that I am single – um, I mean, seek help. I'm not that sexy. (No, seriously. I'm not, honestly. And if you're considering contacting me because I look like Hisoka and you have the hots for him… well, I'm not going to respond. I'll just be blushing in this corner. And silently wishing your death. Your painful, violent death.)
Oh, and I don't own Muraki. Or Harry. Any other pop-culture references are used in good humor, and you're reading entirely too much into them.