I write fanfiction, kind of? Bleach, Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler, Hetalia, and possibly some of my regular poetry will all show up here~ Do you have any requests? I'll do my best to fulfill them. I used to be EmpressHimiko on FanFiction.net and DA but life got in the way- this account will post a lot of the drabbles and such that fell by the wayside.
UPS Teamsters ready to stage America's biggest strike since 1997, with solidarity as the main sticking point
Unionized UPS Teamsters – 260,000 of them – are set to strike in the biggest American strike since UPS’s unionized drivers walked out in 1997.
Superficially, the issue is about the company moving to seven-day delivery, but the issue that’s forcing the strike is the sizable cohort of union members who are unwilling to accept a two-tier workplace where established workers get the full protection of the union and younger hires are given a worse deal. This has been a traditional way that employers have split, weakened and ultimately killed their workers’ unions – by buying off the long-established employees with better deals that make the workers who’ll replace them feel that unions have nothing to offer them, which establishes divisions that can be exploited later to lay off those higher-paid workers, leaving only the lowest-paid employees and no union they can use to press for better pay.
It seems like some of UPS’s Teamsters have figured out that solidarity pays.
Yo, if they do strike, don’t listen to the media bitching about those workers being uppity or what the fuck ever. Transit and shipping is a increasingly huge industry in the US, and the Teamsters should be cheered on and congratulated for demanding solidarity and support for junior workers–formal union members or not.
If you’re waiting longer on Amazon packages or whatever, of course, that doesn’t mean you can’t complain–but frame your complaints to aim at UPS management for failing to treat its workers well and negotiate, not at the workers themselves. In this Second Gilded Age, that’s the only way we’re ever going to see any kind of improvement from the exploitation of the nation by the uber-wealthy–and UPS certainly qualifies.
If you scroll back to January, I called this on this blog. Granted, I had inside information.
Thing is, this isn’t just for UPS. This is the largest labor contract in all of the Americas. This is so very important symbolically. This is for all of your unions too. Join the Teamsters. Just shut this shit down.
1) Don’t cross the picket line to use the service/buy goods.
2) Stand and march with them, if you can - if you have time, if you have energy and the ability. Even a little while helps.
3) Bring snacks; bring coffee; bring supplies appropriate to the location and weather: sunblock and water for a summer strike; extra pair of gloves or a scarf to give away for one in winter; rain poncho if it’s wet, and so on. Basically, look at where the strike is happening and ask yourself, “If I were camping in these conditions, what would I need?”
4) Visit if you can; tell them you support the strike. Honk to show support; smile and thumbs-up as you walk past on your way to school, and so on.
5) Don’t buy any of the corporate lies about how strikes will cost you money or make your life worse - they do this “play the workers against each other” trick where they tell YOU that those OTHER WORKERS are the ones causing you problems, not the corporations that refuse to cover decent health care for everyone that would allow you to pay higher prices for shipping. Remember:
(Source)
The guy making $12.50 an hour who’s striking to make $15 an hour plus dental is NOT why your UPS shipments cost so much.
Wow. I literally never, ever do this, but my best friends little brother is extremely sick. Reposting this here for anyone that might be able to help. ❤️ Thank you to all (& if anyone even just has information or stories to tell about this condition, good doctors, etc., please feel free to reblog, comment or reach out, as well). #Repost @regal_ramona with @get_repost
・・・
Please help us save my brother’s vision. Please take the time to read, share, donate or give any information. Any help is appreciated. #keratoconus #eyedisease #pleasehelp #littlebrother #eyesight #visioncorrection #healthinsurance
@druggandadream saw your post, unfortunately I was permanently banned from twitter (because apparently calling out racism is *abusive*). You all can feel free to share this post/the gofundme link on twitter if you have it
The campaign has been roughly halfway funded through all of your help!!!!! I honestly feel like my faith in humanity has been restored <3. Even if we don’t raise it all with the GoFundMe, we think we should be able to match the rest of the money. His surgery is scheduled for July 10th with post-op July 13th.
Summary: Sometimes Byakuya unwraps him slowly, lays him down on the bed and gives him slow lingering kisses when he unties him. But other times Byakuya slips into the room and wraps himself around Ichigo like a flame- kisses him feverishly and starts unwinding his clothes without regard for the tears and rips he sometimes makes.
Length: About 400 words
Rating: Soft R or Teen, nothing very smutty but it’s in the context of making love.
Ichigo likes to think that usually they’re, well, “normal”- but there’s no way he can discount the way that Byakuya gets sometimes when he’s had an especially rough time and slowly his kisses change.
Sometimes Byakuya unwraps him slowly, lays him down on the bed and gives him slow lingering kisses when he unties him, gradually opening him up until the fabric layers are spread out around him and then he presses down on him and there’s the delicious slide of the silk below them. Byakuya lays over him, his head tucked against his neck kissing along his tendons, and the firm brush of Byakuya’s clothes against his exposed chest thrills him. There’s no mistaking the deep affection Byakuya has for him- the way his eyes sweep across Ichigo’s skin to reaffirm he is safe, the way Byakuya’s fingers will sometimes hesitate until Ichigo presses up to meet them, the reverent way he holds Ichigo that sometimes makes him suck in a breath of disbelief and wonder as though he still ponders why Ichigo would ever chose to be with someone as wearied and hardened and shockingly needy as him. Ichigo supposes that Byakuya likes the pretty picture he makes: an image of ease, a lovely gift left for him to delight in, a tan body nestled in a cocoon of color, the safety of a soft lover for him.
But other times Byakuya slips into the room and wraps himself around Ichigo like a flame- kisses him feverishly and starts unwinding his clothes without regard for the tears and rips he sometimes makes. His hands immediately slip to cup Ichigo and Byakuya revels in the way that he gasps and his whole body hangs limp against him- loves when Ichgo can’t help but try to grip his inky black hair, the way that he can overcome him and presses him on the bed and he feels all the noble lord that he is by conquering Ichigo. Occasionally Ichigo feels a few drops of water around his neck when Byakuya gasps against his shoulders and wraps his arms around his waist- Ichigo will always let Byakuya hide his tears into him, he will always give him the security of weeping into a secret place where nobility and duty drop away.
NOTE: This Drabble/Prompt is posted separately as it has a bulimic main character and I wanted to tag it appropriately
Fandom: Black Butler / Kuroshitsuji
Title: Drabbles and Prompts
Pairing/Characters: All over the place, I shamefully ship Seba/Ciel and have a deep love for trans!man Ciel and fem!Ciel- but there’s different pairings, I think all of them with Ciel
Summary: This is kinda just a collection of drabbles/prompt I wrote that you can enjoy on your own or even add to/write for if you’d like? *wink-wink*
Rating: M for bodily horror
As always, I love comments/likes/reblogs! It’s been a long while since I’ve written and I’m pretty busy with uni right now, but I’d love to add to these things when I have time! <3 Thank you for reading!
FemCiel
She knew that Sebastian would sooner or later find the vomit and know what was happening- even if he didn't know the reasoning. But at the very least she felt better now: even if she was wiping off bile, she felt a measure of control that allowed her to straighten her back and walk away. She was just a little dizzy, but she was a touch worried about the trembling of her jaw. It ceased when she locked it, kept her teeth firmly closed, but she would have to mind it for the rest of the day.
-
Because of his mistress's curious weight loss- small though it was now, he knew to mind it before it became exceedingly dangerous, even though it was slight she was already a fragile weight- he had begun to lace her corsets a touch loose in the mornings. Hopefully it would encourage her to take up more of an appetite and gain back the weight she had lost within a week or so. He also tried to encourage her to eat a richer supper, but she would reject those or merely consume parts of it- however she had a tendency to not decline dinner and though he would prefer she rested after the heavy meal, he ruminated that her habitual evening walk would not prevent her from gaining the necessary weight. Dinner became an increasingly extravagant event- roast duck with thick aromatic sauces, seared game in a tureen of heavy stock- for just his mistress. He expected her to made snide remarks about his increasingly savory and rich dishes, but she merely took it in stride and demanded her slice of cake to follow them.
And still! She was not gaining the necessary weight, if fact she still seemed to slip a minute bit smaller as days passed. He had taken to reading book on nutrition and feminine anatomy- though his own knowledge was vast, he never had a female mistress before and perhaps he had not the proper depth of knowledge.
There was not a sufficient answer to her weight loss, he surmised- something was terribly off about all of this. Her health was at stake, he needed to watch his mistress closely.
-
"Mey Rin? It's inconvenient but-" the young mistress cast her eyes down, "but would you please lace me tighter? Sebastian was a little distracted this morning."
"Oi! Of course my lady!" Mey Rin tripped over her feet in her excitement to help her mistress, and Ciel rolled her eyes as the woman picked herself up. She looked expectantly up at Mey Rin who floundered for a moment- she dressed herself, but how did one properly dress a lady?- before unbuttoning Ciel's basque jacket, removing it, and gently pulling her chemise over her head. She moved herself so that she was behind Ciel and examined the lacing- it was loose! She had initially had a touch of doubt that Sebastian would err, but the fold in the her back panel showed where she was loose.
Mey Rin grinned and quickly undid the knot and firmly tugged the lacing comfortably taut.
"Better my lady?" She asked cheerfully.
"Tighter, Mey Rin" Ciel said sharply. Unsure, Mey Rin pulled it tighter still and was secretly relieved when Ciel nodded- she worried that her mistress would want it pulled too tight. She knotted it and helped Ciel back into her chemise and jacket.
-
Something as wrong with her corset- it had been re-knotted. He knew his mistress was utterly incapable of lacing herself- besides the knot was strong and utilitarian, nothing she would ever use, the knot of a hand that was used to tying a knot sure to never slip. His knots were the elegant knots of demons, one that would be sure to "slip" and release the bonds should his mistress suffer an asthmatic spell.
Pairing/Characters: All over the place, I shamefully ship Seba/Ciel and have a deep love for trans!man Ciel and fem!Ciel- but there’s different pairings, I think all of them with Ciel
Summary: This is kinda just a collection of drabbles/prompt I wrote that you can enjoy on your own or even add to/write for if you’d like? *wink-wink*
Rating: Light M for bodily horror and smutty lines
As always, I love comments/likes/reblogs! It’s been a long while since I’ve written and I’m pretty busy with uni right now, but I’d love to add to these things when I have time! <3 Thank you for reading!
FemCielxAlois
Perhaps it wasn't so bad, having him court her. He was trying very well in his own way: leaning his head on her shoulder in a very gentle way so that his blond hair wouldn't get caught in her ribbons or buttons. And it was sort of nice the way that Claude set down the tray and delicately kissed her forehead as he rose- seamlessly delivering affection while she was a guest in the manor.
"Now Claude~" Alois hooted, "Don't be so forward with our guest" but he leaned back on the couch and threw his legs over her lap. Ciel gave a small indulgent smile and patted his calves gently, stroking him over his stockings while he languidly stretched them further over her skirts.
"Yes, your highness," Claude recited carefully and when he bent down to press a kiss to Alois's forehead: Alois abruptly pulled him into a deep kiss, yanking his collar closer so that the butler was caught in the moment. Ciel pointedly looked away as the two kissed, but when Alois moaned she shoved his legs off her lap.
"Very cute," she bit out, looking away from Alois's awfully repentant face. It was strange and for a minute she questioned its sincerity- but in a spider's web she could not take their affections seriously. Claude's face was a quiet mask of grief for his master's turmoil and he once again straightened up from Alois's face. He mutely turned closed to her, bent low at his waist, and tucked a hand behind her neck as he pressed a kiss to her lips.
But no matter how lovely Alois presented them and no matter how warmly pleasant it was to sit with them while they pandered on her tenderly- the deep hatred she harbored could not be quelled by this nor could her obsessive lust for revenge.
Fluff SebstianxFemCiel
Her period was merely a reminder that her femininity was a growing problem.
The moment he entered the room, he knew that his mistress's "time" had come. His keen smell alerted him to the rich smell of her blood- slightly cloying by its' nature of her *ahem* womanly condition. He pushed the breakfast cart into the room, re-arranging the contents of the plates so that the most fragrant foods were furthest from her. He gently shook his lady, but she didn't stir in the slightest- not even to groan. She must still be dreadfully drained- his mistress was usually not a terribly deep sleeper, barring during her nightmares.
He drew away for a moment and realized he should perhaps close the heavy drapes to avoid the sunlight- his young mistress was so dreadfully sensitive during this time.
He took a breath to steady himself, wore his warmest smile, and peeled back the covers from his mistress's face. She curled tighter on herself: her face was awfully blotchy from where it had been pressed against the pillows and her hair had begun to rumple at the ends where it was tucked under her.
He would need to act quickly to avoid having to clean the blood from the sheets- they had just been washed and the weather was so humid! They would not dry satisfactorily- but his mistress remained asleep.
He had to consider his options for a minute: if he left his mistress she would get some much needed rest, there weren't any appointments today nor particularly pressing business beyond a modest stack of paperwork he could very likely complete if she asked, but unless he put (at the very least!) a pad of thick cotton under her then she could wake up with her sheet soiled and probably without a meal on hand..... or if he woke his mistress now then the sheets would definitely be saved, she could potentially conduct her paperwork while reclining in bed, however if she was this exhausted right now then she could be suffering from one of her migraines and waking her up would cause it to worsen and potentially cause vomiting.
SebastianxFemCiel [from 3rd person his focus?]
She expected him to wear his delicious look of wicked surprise before he did as she ordered- but his usual expression merely froze and then dampened for a moment.
"As you wish, my lady," he replied, "I shall fetch something suitable for wrapping them now, unless you have another more pressing desire."
When she shook her head, he promptly left the room- taking away the tray of empty tea cups. He would have to find the lines of cotton jersey that Mei Rin had cut and hemmed as bandages when the Lady was injured- those would do for now. He supposed he should have seen this coming, she increasingly had to play a boy while they were conducting underworld business and her breasts had been a growing issue for her.
They seemed to only remind her of what had transpired that night: the simple solution was to wrap his mistress's breasts- Oh! But how lovely they were! Milky doves that were so pretty while he bathed her, exquisitely colored nipples, delicate blue veins that traced along the pale skin- so softly womanly on her growing body! He silently mourned her abhorrence of her feminine body- the soft swell of her bottom, her slender hips and delicate rib cage, how frightfully trim and willowy her bones were for such a terribly strong soul!
Edward and FemCiel- friendship?
In was terribly un-gentlemanly to fight in front of a lady. With a foreigner. Who was her friend- But he had to make Ciel smile! And if the only was to get her to giggle- even if it was a little rueful- was to fight for her "honor", then he was her willing champion.
SebastianxFemCiel [from 3rd person his focus?]
She didn't need to know that kissing was the least effective way to draw out her soul- that is, until that spider decided to intervene.
SebastianxFemCiel
Sometimes she needed to contend that he truly was a demon- but perhaps she needed to consider those affections for him ran deeper than she first assumed.
She turned the page and checked a few more notations on the edges, "You wouldn't pursue this if I were a boy, now would you? You're just lusty for my body, you perverse demon." She absently reached for her tea cup, mindlessly grasping where she thought it was and then feeling around for it.
"Oh, my lady? I find I would take you even if you were but a boy."
Her hand recoiled, the deep stigma of sexuality and deviant tastes washing over her mind, but he grasped her frozen hand and his gentle kisses to her finger tips made her lose her breath and looking into his eyes merely worsened that air headed feeling.
SebastianxFemCiel
She truly hated when he trimmed her hair. No matter how brightly lit the room, she would quiver in fear at the imagined glint of a razor and she had to hold in her scream when she recalled them shaving her hair and the nicks and slices-
But it was merely Sebastian there and he would patiently murmur to her and comb his fingers through her locks until she stopped her shaking and reason returned to her eyes.
FemCiel and Grell - Friendship?
Perhaps, Ciel mused, they were no so unalike. While Sebastian was sating that cultist in the barn, they sat outside. "She" was ranting and raving over That Woman! with "Her Daaaaaaaaaaarling Sebastian", their long red hair tossing peculiarly delicately. But when they looked at Ciel, they stopped and gave her a pitying glance. "I suppose you feel this worse than I do?"
Ciel tipped her head lower to her chest and clenched her fists, "It doesn't matter, not really."
She head the crunch of the gravel under Grell's boots and saw their tips come into her line of sight- it wasn't terribly surprising when the soul reaper tipped Ciel's chin up. "Of course it does, my dear~" Her tone was strangely playful and considerate, "a lady's affections are no laughing matter! I am an expert." She batted her eyes, "And I suppose you have more of a claim on Bassy than I do~"
She swatted Grell's hand away from her chin, "No matter," Ciel answered sullenly.
But Grell sinuously leaned closer, slid her hand into the back of her dark hair, and- before Ciel could firmly pull back- kissed her ardently. Their lips were soft, their long red hair was fragrant, they weren't forceful nor timid, and they pulled Ciel closer like she truly was the love of their life- the kiss was lovely and dreamy in all the ways that counted, yet ultimately devoid of that quality of oh.
Grell pulled her hands from Ciel's hair, stepped back, and stood up straight. She looked down at Ciel with a knowing smile, her mussed up hair and confused look were just so utterly adorable. "That, my dear, is why it matters," she batted her eyes at Ciel and gave a saucy hair toss, "that kiss makes anyone give in, even my dear William~!"
Ciel glared at her again, wiped her mouth against the kerchief from her sleeve, and moved to rise, "You-" she spat, "had no right!"
Grell merely arched an eyebrow and pressed Ciel back down, "No matter" she echoed Ciel, "this is where I am an expert," she sighed dramatically, "we're merely young maidens trying to get the affections of handsome men. Aren't we, Ciel?"
Ciel vaguely thought about pointing out that Grell wasn't perhaps a 'young maiden', but that was beside the point. "No matter," she muttered, but she didn't shrug off Grell's hand when she set it on her shoulder and sat beside her. She tried to keep her anger strong by looking at her aunt's coat, but even the red fabric did little to distract her from the point Grell was trying to make and she grew tired after a time, her pride preventing her from sleeping right then. Neither of them spoke, but eventually Grell slightly tilted so that Ciel leaned against her with her face against her chest and no one passing could see her begin to nod off.
Grell grew stiff supporting her but no matter, they were a reaper~! She glanced fondly at Ciel, one could not truly love Madam Red without having a measure of tenderness for her niece- and Grell did love her as a man loved a woman as magnificent as her.
Grell heard Sebastian's "activities" complete in the barn, she shifted and woke Ciel- pointedly filing her nails so as to save the young Countess' pride a small blow.
When Sebastian peeked out of the barn and they walked in, his eyes narrowed at Grell's rumpled shirt and his mistress's slightly bleary eyes, the scent of the Soul Reaper especially clinging to her lips and hair. Her eyes cleared and looked at Sebastian with delightful hard expectation, and he turned his thoughts away from how she straightened her clothes.
While Grell's silence was appreciated during the interrogation, their arrogant smile and seeming comradery with his mistress set him on edge.
-
"That reaper is dangerous," he commented idly as they walked down the hall.
"Are you going to question what allies I keep?" she spat, "Sutcliff is useful to us, do not forget what they did while Angela worked against me."
Fem Ciel and Grell Friendship/teasing fluff
Sebastian knew better than to try and force her into advanced dancing classes: now he had to deal with Grell sitting on the couch sipping tea with his mistress. If only they hadn't made shopping plans together!
-
William knew better than to force Grell into a tighter schedule- now he had to deal with the little girl "politely" sitting in the waiting room. He knew something- something!- was up when she blushed when he asked about her absent butler. She tugged at a stray hem on her purse and his eyes narrowed- what could she be doing here?
-
William could only stare dumb founded when Sutcliff formally asked for his mid-afternoon break and then turned and linked arms with the impertinent little girl- though William was forced to admit she was more of a young lady, though her frame was especially small. The two chatted in the office lounge, Sutcliff delicately placing his hand on her knee while they secretively conversed on the occasion that she pulled out her fan.
"Oh Will~!" Sutcliff's voice shouted through the hall, "Be a dear and stop sulking in the hall." William straightened at that and stiffly stood in the doorway.
SebastianxFem!Ciel AU
What he didn't know was that they were a clockwork child. That is.... until their soul told them to go to the workshop's basement.
-
He hadn't known she was dying when he met her- her eyes seemed bored enough of what they saw, he merely thought she was one of the many hipsters that creeped their way into working at the local coffee shop. But oh- how she inspired him.
-
He forced a tight smile when he glanced up at the waitress who had spilled his coffee all over the empty space on the table.
"It's quite alright, " he assured her, but she merely bent over and began to wipe up the drink from the table- scrubbing away at the milky foam, silently focused on her task. “Don’t worry, I’ll still tip a lovely like you,” he winked and expected her to flush and stutter some sort of reply, but she merely looked up at him as she finished and he saw a little pin on her apron that proclaimed her a mute.
-
When he tugged her closer, tried to taste her breath, her air merely tasted of the coffee house they were in. They were quite amorously entwined, but she merely gazed at him with the same sort of muted worry- panic dulled in an unnatural way.
"Ciel," he murmured, “what’s-” When her gloved hands worried their way in to push him away, they occasionally spasmed and seemed far too weak to lift the trays she used to carry. He ripped the gloves from her hands and saw delicate wooden joints and Ciel fingers began to twitch and jerk wildly- her eyes terrified as she watched her hands move out of her control
Undertaker
He too sometimes thought about trimming his hair- but old times tugged at the strands and he, too, felt beautiful.
Sebastian and Fem!Ciel
How was he to know that the body under the sheet was a girl? The voice was hoarse and their head was shorn-
And even then she looked with such deep shame, he additionally took on the silent duty of giving her back her claws.
This would be his revenge too.
Summary: The famed cruelty of the Hiroshima Hollows isn’t entirely deserved, but that’s not to say they did not thoroughly frighten the Shinigami. - He looked up anew, took a deep breath and felt the beautiful weight of death in his lungs, satisfying in an absurd way. He closed his eyes and tilted his head to the sky; and felt the smooth breeze of the living and he cherished it. He had never felt this as a shinigami, it must be a plus thing. All over his skin was a dimly pleasurable hum of life around him, the feeling of the pulse of the Earth slide over his flesh was glorious.
[this is an excerpt from a story that I intend to be larger, but as of right now it is a scattered collection of scenes. Inspired by the quote from “Things They Carried” By Tim O’Brian, this is an AU where Bleach takes place during World War 2- the events described immediately follow the bombing of Hiroshima where the Kurosaki-s live.
Length: This part is about 1,200-ish words
Rating: Light M for bodily horror and a smutty line
As always, I love comments/likes/reblogs! It’s been a long while since I’ve written and I’m pretty busy with uni right now, but I’d love to add to these things when I have time! <3 Thank you for reading!
In the ordinary hours of life I try not to dwell on it, but now and then, when I'm just reading a newspaper or sitting alone in a room, I'll look up and see the young man step out of the morning fog. I'll watch him walk toward me, his shoulders slightly stooped, his head cocked to the side, and he'll pass within a few yards of me and suddenly smile at some secret thought and then continue up the trail to where it bends back into the fog.
“Things They Carried” By Tim O’Brian
Juushiro was sitting at his desk, the papers in front of him menial and average. There were few things to really worry about anymore.
Really.
He coughed a bit and sipped some tea, and filled out the paper work. He didn't need to pause to compose his thoughts anymore; they just flowed out in a tepid deluge that described how such and such a mission went and what they accomplished.
He gave a small smile when he heard his lieutenant admonishing his third seats, but frowned again when he felt the beginnings of a backache, it was a festering ache.
The stench of death and decay was already hanging heavily when he was sent with the relief crew to give konso. Hiroshima was in ruins; parts burning, others just falling apart, and everyone was charged with finding dead and bringing them to Soul Society. But it was difficult work, some people weren't dead- not yet anyway- their bodies just rotting while they laid on the ground, muttering for water, the stench of death heavy and the thick smoke from the bomb sickening. There was a taste of the taboo of life-death in the air.
He found him near where Ichigo went to high school, climbing the wooded path of his hill.
Ichigo, the right half of his face ripped up where the blast had hit him, looked at him and gave him a fond smile, the left half gently letting out tears from pain but the smile still strong, and the right half twitched sporadically, the dead red of putrefying flesh missing skin and muscles in some places. Ukitake looked at him, eyes appalled anew as he saw the hero of Soul Society dying before him, his face was a farce of itself, the handsome features decaying before him.
"It doesn't hurt, Ukitake-san," he said, voice almost cheery, and a fly began to crawl around his right half, it made his stomach churn to see it clamber on his dead face, "No, it doesn't at all, I'll be fine, I'm going to go find Yuzu and Karin" He made a move to turn, and then looked back, "Do you think Goat-face is okay?" and Jushiro opened his mouth to answer when Ichigo finished, "No, he's fine too, I can feel it. I need to find some water first though," and with that, Ichigo turned away from him, part of his school uniform singed and falling off, and his steps stumbling slightly to one side.
He made a move to follow Ichigo, but he cursed as he went to beat the spirits of dead dogs whom had begun to turn on their human masters in death. When he managed to get a look over his shoulder, he saw Ichigo high on the hill.
His right forearm was gone.
And the left twitched.
And Ichigo was never seen after that.
His right eye a star of brown, the rest of his flesh, even the living parts, ripped and horribly still supple and living in other places. Where the pattern in his long abandoned shirt was, the imprint was burned into his skin.
"Shun-" the voice was quiet, "What if he's a hollow now?" They didn't say how especially terrifying the Hiroshima hollows were, screaming their indignation and sorrow to the world only days later, their soul chain disintegrating so quickly with the terrible ferocity of radiation.
His sisters and family lived in a small estate in Soul Society now, comfortably with their father a captain and Karin in the academy. Things were settled, the Winter War long over now, the last of all troops recovered and well now.
“He’s not,” Shun said quietly, “He’s too-“ he paused, “he’s strong of heart. We would have heard his cries before now, if- if“ Shunsui rolled over on his bed to gaze at Jushiro’s pale face across the room, “he’s not.”
He was dead.
He looked up anew, took a deep breath and felt the beautiful weight of death in his lungs, satisfying in an absurd way. He closed his eyes and tilted his head to the sky; and felt the smooth breeze of the living and he cherished it. He had never felt this as a shinigami, it must be a plus thing. All over his skin was a dimly pleasurable hum of life around him, the feeling of the pulse of the Earth slide over his flesh was glorious.
And he began to shriek; it was delightfully relieving to scream. He didn’t say words, just a raw noise that was more than words could convey, primal but more than a Hollow noise, a feeling of joy erupted within him. He felt the slide of the air around him, his screaming frightened the little wildlife that still remained, the radiation having killed most things either by the blast or by the fires. The freedom that he felt was so utterly delicious, the cycle of life and death embodied in his metaphysical form: he was the in between, the forgotten plus among hundreds of thousands of other pluses he heard around him.
Zangetsu laid asleep in his inner world and Hollow, solemn for once, assured him Zangetsu would wake up at the right time. All he could do was summon raw power and Hollow’s sword. But even that did not peturb him- all things came in a strange form now and this was but one of many peculiarities in his life.
It was unmistakable, Hitsuguya Toshiro froze in his tracks when he saw the figure on the tree top, Kurosaki Ichigo was in the human world, damaged though he may be the man still existed in this realm. A cat smile on a lovely scarred face- how frightening!
“Fuck me,” he moaned, stretching his slender limbs, when he didn’t hear Jushiro move, he opened his eyes and looked at him. He scowled at him, a low growling in his throat, and Ichigo began to stretch his chest out and slip out of his clothes.
Jushiro stayed in the doorway, weary, “You’re not of your mind, Kurosaki-kun, I can’t-”
“You won’t,” the hollow-boy corrected and continued to bare himself in the humid room, “I’ll even show you a good-”
“Stop,” he said firmly, binding Ichigo’s wrists with kidou, Jushiro’s eyes narrowed, “we’ll speak later when you’re calm.”
Pairing/Characters: Possibly Byakuya/Ichigo, but nothing here to really suggest it
Summary: “Do you not recognize a captain when you see one?” the other said in his deep voice, “I shall have to speak with your superiors when we return to Soul Society, who is your captain?”
This is sort of an AU where Ichigo’s [and his friend’s] powers grow without Rukia’s direct intervention, I’ve only written the very first part and I’m not sure I’ll continue it unless people express an interest but you’re free to imagine and suggest how it may play out after this. Since Rukia is out of the picture at first and Urahara and co. only vaguely explain Shinigami shit (mostly because they want to see what weird stuff the Karakura kids come up with) we see things like the Karakura crew assuming shinigami kill spirits.
Length: About 800 words
Rating: General/K
As always, I love comments/likes/reblogs! It’s been a long while since I’ve written and I’m pretty busy with uni right now, but I’d love to add to these things when I have time! <3 Thank you for reading!
My captain on a snowy horse
Is coming back to take me home,
He'll find me fighting back a terrible force
'Cause I'm not afraid to die alone!
Oh comet, come down!
Kamikaze over me
And I come alive
My midnight melody
-Kamikaze - Owl City
His eyes twitched in the darkness and he felt the presence dutifully move further north, in a closed grid pattern, going through one street then another.
He growled at the fear beginning to creep up into his mind, crushing it with vengeful anger and he silently sailed down from his perch, landing quietly on his feet as he had seen that damn cat-woman doing. He tried to arrange his face into something more intimidating, hefting his sword a bit higher on his back, and he ran north, mentally trying to picture where they would intercept, and just which spirits might be there.
He lagged a bit, hoping to have the entity and therefore their fight, run past a small girl that resided there, but the other paused, and her spirit ribbon disappeared.
A small gasp left his lips as the entity consumed her soul, and he ran faster, nothing hindering him from using flash step.
He was surprised by what he saw.
Instead of one of those masked creatures, he saw another spirit garbed like himself, with a long white coat covering most of his torso, his broad back moving sinuously in the darkness. But, without ado, he snuck up quietly, masking himself carefully to leave no trace of his power, and was able to slam the spirit, this shinigami, on a wall, sliding his sword under his neck like past battles of samurai.
He had long, beautiful, ink black hair, with heavy white clips, and Ichigo could feel muscles under the-
But soon, the positions were flipped, and he was upon the ground with an elegant sword resting softly on his neck.
“Do you not recognize a captain when you see one?” the other said in his deep voice, “I shall have to speak with your superiors when we return to Soul Society, who is your captain?”
Ichigo said nothing, hoping to think of a way to turn the tables again in this fight- the other did not deem him a threat. But he tried to relieve the grimace from his face and instead attempt an abashed face proper of a caught subordinate.
The blade pressed harder, the edge blunted by the angle he held it at but the firm grip of the swordsman betrayed he was in the hands of a warrior, “I will not tolerate insubordination,” he said, still with that composed voice of his, “Just who are you to think you may attack Captain Kuchiki?”
Kuchiki, dimly, that rang a bell, perhaps it was one of the names that Yoruichi had mentioned.
I’m not afraid to die alone, he thought, quiet even in his mind, Orihime, Chad, and Uryuu were all depending on him to get rid of these Shinigami that were killing spirits, but if I die now, it means nothing.
He gritted his teeth, “I’m sorry, Kuchiki-taichou-dono,” he said with all the respect he could muster, “Things have been odd with that Urahara out there,” he dropped the name of the crazy shop keep, knowing fully well he too was from that world.
The elder stepped back, yanking the other up by his collar, and studied him carefully.
“I understand they had a man minding here,” he paused, again, his eyes roving over the ruffled Ichigo, whom tried to pull on a respectful mask, but it was obvious to both of them he lacked any sort of military discipline “but I did not think he would lack even decency.”
Ichigo bit his tongue, and it was that action that made the stoic captain decide to instill martial restraint within that lithe body, perhaps he would be a decent division member; so long he was not already enlisted in the barbaric tenth division…
“I’ll be leaving in the morrow, I expect you to leave with me, the relief squad will trade,” Byakuya said, brooking no chance for interruption from the uniformed man before him, “I’ll be making personal rounds, I have already finished the eastern half of this town and preformed konso on quite a few souls,” he pursed his lips, and there was the silent you have failed in your tasks, “I expect to receive a copy of your reports in two days, leave them with Abarai-fukutaichou.”
Yes, he intended to put this unseated man in his place, he’d find out whom his taichou was and-
“Kuchiki-taichou-dono,” he said, bowing low at the waist, “I’ll make my own rounds and meet you in the morning.” With that, Ichigo and the shinigami left each other to finish their patrols.
Early the next day, perhaps just after dawn, Byakuya Kuchiki arrived at the open plaza where shinigami usually met in order to enter the spirit realm, but the younger man was not there.
He waited, all morning, until the original time was close, and came.
Then, a tall, flustered, and confused shinigami showed up.
He was definitely not the boy.
Definitely.
When asked if there was another shinigami in the area, he answered in the negative, but did concede there were weird and odd happenings around this town that suggested Karakura was perhaps more unusual then they had thought.
The two of them proceeded through the gate and when Byakuya returned to the sixth’s squad division, he promised himself he would personally hunt down that boy and show him what the Kuchiki name meant.
Summary: After the war- both were thinner then they had ever been in their long lives and both felt as though passing out was a real possibility that they would not entertain.
Length: About 800 words
Rating: General/K - slight horror and gore elements
As always, I love comments/likes/reblogs! It’s been a long while since I’ve written and I’m pretty busy with uni right now, but I’d love to add to these things when I have time! <3 Thank you for reading!
This scene was at a glance, familiar. The two wore the same kind of garb they always wore to these sorts of things and both sat in the same sort of position they always sat it; but upon closer examination the severity of the situation permeated the air with grief. One wore a thick bandage where the sash to his gown would be and the air faintly smelled of rot around him, but still he carried himself with elegance and his eyes were pensive: the other held himself in a threadbare tunic and pants, both were clean but almost showed skin through thin spots on the fabric, and his face was shuttered with business. Both were thinner then they had ever been in their long lives, and both felt as though passing out was a real possibility that they would not entertain.
The old nation twirled the pipe in his elegant fingers, the thin length vaguely erotic and intriguing in the sheer ability to twist it in such a manner without dumping ash all over the pretty scroll before him; which was far out dated anyways, but some habits won’t die.
“But,” he asked softly, the frown just as soft as his voice, “What of Okinawa?” His intelligent eyes flicked up to his (former) brother, eyebrow arched delicately and mouth sensually opened to a witty reply.
The pipe continued to whirl, slowly and pensively.
“Okinawa is mine,” the elder nation replied crisply, “like Hong Kong before her, my children I try to keep.” But I did let you go, went as unsaid as the affairs that kept Hong Kong away from China.
I’m so sorry I let you go.
Japan's mouth was carefully traced by a sweetly pink tongue, “So then,” he said softly, “I should remove all trade and emissaries, exclude her from my treaties?” The fear held in China was tangible, even though they were still before he felt him stiffen, the un-thought could-s echoing a bit in his mind, “Do you have the time she needs? Time for the terror she feels when she sees America-san? Are you ready to care for her like I am?”
Seeing the fear in his eyes, the worry of how well he could take care of the child enveloping him for a moment, Japan smiled, tilting his head to the side, his eyes closing for a moment.
“I am sick,” he admitted quite seriously, but with that slightly insane lilt, “America-san made it so, but I can take better care of her. You're a jumbled mess of provinces, what can you do?”
China opened his mouth, and closed it again, and then cleared his throat. "Okinawa," he said quietly, "is my daughter, mine alone."
The pipe was put down.
An eyebrow rose, "She is yours alone?" the voice lilted softly, "I didn't realize you were in congress with yourself, I suppose Hong Kong is solely your child as well?" There was a soft laugh, "And Taiwan is all your child as well?” The smile was more cat-like now, a bit too wide, and his eyes were merry slits in the face of his most cherished brother- I don’t want to see you like this- “And what of the uprisings in your provinces? I can see the way you walk today, Yao-san,” he paused, “Everyone can.” He laughed a little, a soft giggle that seemed fitting with the insanity that leaked out ever slightly, “I didn’t realize you could fuck yourself, Yao, it must be quite powerful with the way you limp.”
Then the smile dropped.
“Is the prospect of speaking with me really so terrifying?” Kiku said flatly, his lips thin and voice grave, You hate me? Yao couldn’t look at Kiku, could not look at his eyes anymore.
Do you really hate me so?
China paused, and licked his lips. He sighed once, licked his lips once, then twice, but before he could counter, Japan signed the bottom of the scroll.
“I’ll keep her, I’ll care for her,” he said softly, the insanity now a whisper in an even voice, “and please, tell them I will watch them from afar.”
There was a pause; and Japan stood, bowed low, and walked to the door.
He looked back at China, and there was a weight in the gaze that passed between them, “Please, Yao,” where his voice used to curl mockingly, it gently caressed his name, “tell them I will watch over them,” he repeated, his eyes soft, I beg you.
With that, he turned and left. When he was outside the home, he could not help himself; he keeled over, vomited, and cried behind a bush.
Yao sat alone for a moment, stood, and looked outside the window; and as he had for so many years, he watched Kiku walk away and wished him well.
It would not hurt so, if I did not love you so much.
Summary: [This is an excerpt from a story that I intend to be larger, but as of right now it is a scattered collection of scenes.] Japan looks back and sees a path of grief, China continued forward.
Length: This part is about 2,200 words
Rating: General/K
As always, I love comments/likes/reblogs! It’s been a long while since I’ve written and I’m pretty busy with uni right now, but I’d love to add to these things when I have time! <3 Thank you for reading!
“Mm?” China hummed on the phone, he was distracted making dumplings and was only half listening to his little sister on the phone.
He heard some garbled grumbling, then “Yao, I said we need to go visit-” he heard some vague slamming and then some shouting; he kept balling the dough into neat rows. When he finished the tray he was about to put the infernal phone down; when he heard her voice again, a touch breathless, “I’m sorry, Yao,” she said softly, “I’m just worried about him.”
“Who?” he washed his hands in the sink, the water was cold but he rinsed anyway.
He heard a pause, “Kiku,” and he tensed for a moment, even if he just heard the name on the phone. Her voice was terribly worried, “I would go, but Im Yong needs some help with work,” Yao sat down, holding the phone gently, “Kiku hasn’t answered his phone, and even Jones hasn’t spoken to him,” he heard a small racket and Im Yong’s voice arguing with her, it seemed as if Korea was being semi-responsible from what he heard in their bickering.
Yao was shocked Kiku wasn’t answering his phone; Japan was notorious for showing up to meetings, even with fevers and chills, without a hair out of place.
“Mei,” Yao trailed off for a moment when he heard her presence back on the line, “Mei, I don’t think I could-“
She interrupted him, “Yao,” her voice was between pleading and demanding, “Yao, he won’t come out for anyone, I don’t know-”
“Daze~” Im Yong’s voice was irate, “Don’t help the idiot, Honda deserves-“ Yao sighed and rubbed his forehead, he couldn’t talk to Kiku, he couldn’t.
He heard a smack, “Yao, Kiku needs you, what if-“
“What if what?” Im Yong again. “What if he plans to kill us like Yao-“ The phone was obviously dropped on the floor and Yao couldn’t help but wonder how the two ever got along.
When Meimei made it on the phone, her voice was rushed, “Yao, someone needs to see if Kiku is okay, I’m so worried. Please, just check on him, you don’t even need to talk to him if you don’t want to.” With that, he heard more shouting and the line went dead.
He put his phone down and stared at it for a minute, visit Kiku? He knew where the house was, keenly; the path that had become overgrown from disuse still lingered in the bamboo forest, and he was sure he could step out and follow it straight to his door. Meimei made sure a set of everyone’s keys was hidden in a kitchen drawer, Kiku had probably given her the spare set without a second thought.
He missed Kiku, he hadn’t thought about it for a long time, but he missed their time together; times spent teaching and learning together, gentle love, and such beautiful-
No, he wouldn’t think about it. Time had swept it away; he couldn’t go back to it. Though he knew the end of it was his fault, he could not help but think there would never be reconciliation between the two; their relationship now was friendly but cool, they weren’t aggressive or cold to the other but there was no effort in making it anything like it was in ancient times. Sometimes Yao would be familiar with him, but Kiku would only shake his head.
Kiku had been both a friend and enemy, but in his mind he would always be his most cherished child and later lover, the perfect companion. Though many others had entered his bed for love and for friendship, Kiku was the one he thought of at night and the one he wanted in his home. Sometimes, when he dared to look at him, he thought of how he missed the smile the other would sometimes carry with him and wondered if any other had brought the smile out. Centuries passed and he never saw Kiku publicly smile the same way.
But that was not the subject at hand.
Yao looked out the window, there was enough time to go to Kiku’s today: though he loathed the idea, he knew Mei was right. Something must be wrong.
He packed a basket with some herbs, tea, and a few plates of food Kiku liked, but who knew how his taste changed? And left his house. He had left his home many times, more times then he could count, but when he stood at the gate, he was overwhelmed with the urge to look back upon the house. The estate hadn’t changed much. Ever. There were trees that grew rhythmically through the garden, the house itself changed only mildly in ornamentation, and with a small, dropping, sense of loss he realized he had picked away Kiku’s mark from the house. In the curve of his gate he saw Taiwan, and in the flowers bloomed Korea, even Vietnam had her mark through the murals painted on his home, and he glimpsed Mongolia in the statues on his roof.
But Kiku was gone. With an ancient ache, Yao suddenly missed the things they planted together- things he had ripped away in bitter sadness- and the things they had designed- art he had cast away in grief.
Regardless, Yao turned away from the house and began walking. The dense woods were a comfort; their thick stalks of bamboo were a green glow about him. When he made it to Kiku’s house, he looked at it carefully. He had only been there rarely, their last era together was mostly in Yao’s estate; when he saw the house he saw a home like Kiku, the home modeled on his own but modified for the quiet man’s needs. He stepped though the threshold of the estate, his soft shoes shuffling delicately on the path.
He had to hesitate, had to wait to see if maybe he didn’t have to go inside, but he knocked three times on the door.
“Aiya! It’s family!” he called through the thick door, he didn’t hear stirrings behind it. He knocked again and, when it stood impassively, he pulled out the key he had from Mei and opened the lock.
The thick door was heavy and took a small show of strength to open, and Yao was careful to close it without noise. He grasped his basket carefully and looked down the main corridor of the house; now it was only lit by the sunlight that gleamed on the wooden floors where it shone from the high rafters. The sliding doors all connected to one another, and Yao again called out.
“Japan?” he inquired, his voice strong, “Where are you?” He stepped further into the house, the air was stale and slightly humid. When he still heard no response he vaguely recalled that Japan lived in a room on the eastern side of his home and with that Yao began to open the doors to slits. With each door he opened, he felt a stuttering in his breath, and when he finally reached the last eastern door, he steeled himself.
Yao closed his eyes, opened them, and slipped his hand onto the edge of the door. The wood was warmer than the others, the slats painted a warm black, and he pushed the door open.
He had expected to see Kiku lounging on a futon, or perhaps to see the room empty, he had not expected the disarray that met him. A futon was angled out of the spot on the floor painted for it to occupy, and it was pulled slightly closer to a table where a small pot bubbled above warm ashes. Otherwise clean sheets were haphazardly arranged on the pallet so that some of them splayed to the floor and other ones bunched up on the futon, a small tray by the door boasted many cups of cold tea and bowls of water, the windows were shut tightly on the northern wall and the eastern wall had windows slightly open near the ceiling.
The warm scent of medicinal herbs washed over him and he thought the room was empty. But when he took a second look, he saw some of the blankets were bunched around a thin form in the bed, fully pulled up so only the very front of his bangs showed from his angle. Kiku was hunched over but still and silent, apparently looking into the urn.
“Japan?” he questioned, perhaps he was asleep. He stepped closer, and still Kiku didn’t move. “Japan?” he repeated, louder this time, and he fully stepped into his field of vision. Kiku was flushed and sweating, oddly still and not trembling, but then his eyes looked at Yao.
“Yao-“ His eyes were feverish, untamed with passion. “Yao!” They looked at him blindly, he wasn’t sure if Kiku saw him or not, Kiku’s hand feebly grasped at the hem of Yao’s pants. It was almost pathetic the way he smiled up at him and caressed the air. “Yao, what brings you here?” he asked giddily, the wide smile on his face looked like it would be painful to hold.
Yao almost recoiled, Kiku’s hand dropped and his eyes still maintained strict contact, thought it seemed they were unaware. He looked more intently at Kiku and saw a thread of blood tracing the edge of his face, but he couldn’t fully determine where it came from. Yao placed the basket down beside the bed and noticed that when he had turned away Kiku had begun to sag. “Yao?”
“Mm, Kiku?” Yao knelt in front of him on the bed, he gently placed his hand on his forehead and felt a blazing fever. If Kiku was this sick, then-
Kiku leaned into his hand, his wide smile returning full force. He nuzzled Yao’s hand like a cat.
“Where have you been, Yao? I missed you so much.” Kiku slurred his words a little, and Yao felt a dropping sense of worry begin to grow as he peeled back the covers Kiku had swathed himself in. The smell of illness began to grow in the room.
“I’m never here, Honda,” he snapped, Why had Kiku let himself get so sick? Why hadn’t he asked for help-? He stood and began to fold the excess blankets, he was so worried.
“Oh,” Kiku’s face fell, and some of his energy seemed to drain away when Yao’s hand was gone, “Of course, I forget,” his voice sounded more like him now but still off, too reedy, too careworn, too shocking. Yao laid the folded blankets near the door, and knelt to help Kiku lay down. “Yao?”
“Yes, Honda?” he muttered, gently pulling his legs out and arranging them in the bed. Kiku gently patted at Yao’s knees while Yao worked to lay him flat on the bed.
“Why are we always at your house? I had almost forgotten how much I love my own house.”
“We aren’t, Honda, we never are-“ It suddenly dawned on him why Kiku was asking such questions.
-Kiku.
Oh, Kiku.
His fevered eyes still looked at him hazily, before he slowly blinked and wrapped his slender fingers around Yao’s wrist.
“Lie with me a bit?” he questioned softly, his dazed eyes warm with affection, his fingers tightly clasped around his wrist.
Yao simply sat where he was kneeling for a moment, weighing Kiku’s eyes which were trapped in memory: eyes that looked at him with soft warmth and thick with exhaustion and illness. At that point, Kiku fell asleep, and Yao slipped in next to him. His hand tightly wrapped around his wrist. After a short while, he too fell asleep.
He awoke to some muttering, he panicked for a long moment until the soft smell of Kiku registered with him. He hadn’t intended on staying this long at all, but the heat rolling over him from Kiku told him that the other was still grievously ill and not to be left alone.
“Hnnn?” Yao looked at him splayed out on the edge of the bed, Kiku’s hand still tightly wrapped around his wrist.
“Your eyes! They’re so beautiful! Yao- oh, you’re here, you’re here! Are you going to stay this time? Your eyes! So expressive, a beautiful color, I would have them set into the heavens!” Kiku was quiet for a while, murmuring some nonsensical sounds. The bedroom was fully dark now; night had fallen while Yao napped with Kiku.
In the dim moonlight that gleamed in, Yao saw Kiku’s face turn to look at him. His eyes splayed wide-
Gods, it still didn’t look like Kiku- too frantic, too frightening, too wide-
His eyes trapped in memory, the expression was not one Kiku wore anymore. Vulnerability and grief shone through his face, and he pulled himself closer to Yao.
“I can’t even get away from you when I sleep,” he murmured into Yao’s chest, Yao kept his lips shut. He didn’t want to do anything to make Kiku upset, but at the same time he-
Kiku buried his face into Yao’s chest, “I always see you, even when you’re not here. Why do you keep haunting me? I miss you so much. I can’t tell you I love you, you’ll never look at me again. You’ll never look at me again!”
At those words, Yao stiffened while Kiku hiccuped and cried a little into his shirt.
Wilderness and Wind, Mages and Order - Excerpts #2
Fandom: Bleach
Title: Wilderness and Wind, Mages and Order - Excerpts #2
Pairing/Characters: Future ByakuyaxIchigo
Summary: [This is an excerpt from a story that I intend to be larger, but as of right now it is a scattered collection of scenes.] In the wake of warring states, when the mages have largely been swept away and magic is in the hands of the few, Kuchiki Byakuya needs to think of his town first. He needs to keep Karakura Town safe. But how can he do that when Kurosaki Ichigo is invoking his noble right to return home? How can he do that when a wild caster seeks refuge?
Length: This part is about 300-ish words
Rating: General/K
“Get out- Get Out!- GET OUT!” Ichigo shouted, heaving his chest with his breaths. Renji hesitated in the doorway, but left when Rukia nodded to him.
Rukia shoved him back into the bed, her eyes suddenly hard as she took in the strange flush over his face. “You need to breath,” she hissed, holding his face between her hands as she deepened her own breathing. When he began to copy her, and the grey cast over his face had largely left, she released him and returned to her seat beside him.
There was a long moment of silence where Rukia refused to acknowledge the gratitude in Ichigo’s eyes. She refused to look at him for a moment, her brows furrowed as she looked out at the garden.
“He means well,” she said, he closed his eyes again, “hey-” she swatted him and met his irritated gaze. “Renji is doing his best. But to him- his best means making Nii-sama happy. And Nii-sama-”
“-is ready to dump me in the forest,” Ichigo muttered harshly, his eyes slipped shut again. He breathed deeply, and then began again with soft tremors in his voice “I need to reconsider what I’ve done, I need to get out of Karakura on my own, I can’t stay here, I can’t stay here, I can’t, not now, not anymore-”
“Ichigo-” Rukia breathed, he looked at her and saw a mixture of horror and compassion on her face. “Oh Ichigo,” she pressed her cool hand against his face, “I would never let that happen- Nii-sama hasn’t been thinking right. He is all about order and law, he is a warm person inside. Even if the law was wrong, I know he would help. You have every right to be here, Ichigo.”
Person A is an awkward teenager who always goes to the cafe down the street. They are obsessed with some frilly pastry, getting it every day. One day they awkwardly try to flirt with Person B, the owner of the cafe’s child. The attempt ends disastrously.
Years later, person A is on death row. They ask for the pastry as their last meal, but person b’s parent has since died. Person B who hates baking, because they miss their parent, attempts to recreate the pastry. They go to the prison to deliver the pastry- and decide person A is innocent. Somehow, person B manages to help person A escape.
Both have changed a lot, and now they are on the run together
Title: Wilderness and Wind, Mages and Order - Excerpts
Pairing/Characters: Future ByakuyaxIchigo
Summary: [This is an excerpt from a story that I intend to be larger, but as of right now it is a scattered collection of scenes.] In the wake of warring states, when the mages have largely been swept away and magic is in the hands of the few, Kuchiki Byakuya needs to think of his town first. He needs to keep Karakura Town safe. But how can he do that when Kurosaki Ichigo is invoking his noble right to return home? How can he do that when a wild caster seeks refuge?
Length: This part is about 750-ish words
Rating: Soft Teen, nothing very smutty or gore-y (yet) but there is a bit of fighting.
It was a fight of the winds.
Ichigo fought with a strong disadvantage- his Western and Eastern winds were hampered by the cliffs- and he cursed himself for having fallen into the trap. Byakuya stood tall at the left cliff, his sword still sheathed, and the look of muted bliss on his face betrayed the wind that Ichigo felt whoosh down the tunnel, and he held in a cry as the ashes and debris ran into his back. Idly Byakuya heard a sick sound as the rocks pierced deeper into his skin and hit his bones; when Byakuya looked at him he saw that Ichigo’s left shoulderblade was cracked under the flesh, the arm spasmed and twitched and could not hold the other sword.
Ichigo’s face contorted but he gave a savage look to Byakuya. He gave his own grimace when Ichigo called forth a landslide. Byakuya tore down the cliff as he escaped the rocks on his heels. He softened his landing with a small breeze but in the small stumble, Ichigo had yanked the normal sword from Byakuya’s right hand and threw it to the side. Byakuya pivoted back, his remaining sword swapping over to his dominant hand and he weighted himself back to kick if he had to. Unexpectedly, Ichigo called forth a series of gusts of wind to push him forward. Unable to recover his footing, Byakuya stretched out his hand to spring up when he landed but Ichigo instead gently pressed his fingertip to his falling chest.
Tumble he muttered, and Byakuya felt his limbs go numb, a sensation akin to tingling yawned from his toes to torso and he imagined that was what it must be like to fall off a cliff. He landed on the ground, his physical presence thoroughly dazed but his mind was lethargically aware.
He had never seen a spell like that before, without materials or complex movements, it was- in its way- a thing of beauty. A simple word and flow of power that belied a deep strength and control he would not have assigned to the other.
Ichigo looked down at him, perhaps there was mourning in his eyes, but he gently stretched Byakuya out of the awkward position he had fallen in so that he smoothly leaned against a flat boulder on the sand.
He looked at Byakuya a moment.
Then Ichigo turned from him a short distance and began to heave emptily into the grass, sweat dampening his shoulders and brow. Anguish and pain twisted his eyes, the shut lids ashy, and Byakuya dimly turned his head to look at his gagging opponent. In that moment, he could not see him as anything but utterly human, had he been able to fight, he would not have made a move to wound him while he retched and wept.
After a while he stopped and turned back to Byakuya. He stood up from his knees, quivering slightly at the knees from weariness.
“It should be wearing off now, yeah?” he said tiredly, and Byakuya nodded with a great effort, his limbs were still numb, but he could feel awareness creeping onto his limbs. Ichigo pulled the blade out from his left sheath, then his right, using his uninjured arm, and set them beside the sitting Byakuya. Dimly, Byakuya’s fingers began to quietly reach for his blade when Ichigo gave him a tired look. Still, Byakuya braced himself for some sort of witchcraft and straightened his stance.
“You realize we must finish,” Byakuya stated, his voice a veiled threat and a comradely statement all at once.
Ichigo’s face was unreadable- and Byakuya was about to stop Ichigo’s incanting, he was about to bind him with iron when Ichigo’s lips parted, but instead heard his formal tone “The Kurosaki Clan takes the right to return home.”
[This part comes much later, but the connecting scenes aren’t really complete– but I figured you guys might like to see what the rest would be like]
He was meditating, his limbs gently balanced against the floor, and Byakuya searched for a sign of unnaturalness in the moment.
He cracked an eye open, and Byakuya was mildly pleased to see the eye was a pretty brown: they matched well with his skin and hair colour and make a pleasantly handsome image.
He stared blankly at the wall, and then his face softened to a muted sadness, “My heart doesn’t beat right anymore,” he confessed, “I pass out, I tire easily, I can’t move as well as I used to.”
“our grandfathers were mortal enemies during high school and they found out we go to the same school and keep trying to get us to sabotage each other and you’re super into it but like… i kind of have a huge crush on you so i’m having a hard time??” au
“i walked into this restaurant and you thought i was your blind date and i just kind of went with it because i don’t want to eat alone” au
“i’m a cab driver and you’re late to a business meeting and you are literally the most demanding pretentious piece of shit i’ve ever had the displeasure of driving but i also kind of want to fuck you in that suit” au
“i started a bird watching club at school and you are the only one who showed up at the first meeting so now i love you” au
“you’re my neighbor and your grandparents are coming to visit and you’ve apparently been feeding them a lie about how you’re dating me to get them off your case so could i please be your pretend date for like two days you will pay me in concert tickets and mac and cheese” au
“my friend told me lick your mailbox on a dare and when i went to do the dare you were leaving the house to get your mail but i didn’t notice so now you’re staring at me as i lick your mailbox” au
“i fell asleep on you and drooled all over your shoulder in a theater during a really bad movie and you were too nice to shove me off” au
“my best friend owns a restaurant and you wrote a bad review of it in the local paper so it has become my goal to track you down and fight you” au
“i accidentally set your plant on fire and i felt super guilty so i went to the store to buy you another plant but they ran out of the plant that you had and i didn’t know what other kind of plant you liked so i may or may not have bought you enough plants to fill a small greenhouse?” au
