Bubbles and Troubles

Angry at the World: Original

Mon, 19 Oct 2009 03:23:13 GMT

Title: Angry at the World
Pairing: Grimmjow x Ichigo (Other relationships included)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: After a confrontation, Grimmjow's fascination with Kurosaki Ichigo takes control. There seems to be more than just lust, but damaged connections grow with difficulty. *WARNING* First chapter non-con, consider skipping for more enjoyable story.
Disclaimer: Bleach and all it's characters belong to Kubo Tite. I do not endorse rape or violence. This story contains male sex, violence, explicit language, and angst. If this will offend you or you are not above eighteen, don't read!

The original Angry at the World oneshot.

Angry at the World

   “No, no!” The screams didn’t mean much to Grimmjow. He couldn’t remember meeting a punk that made him as angry as this. The cockiness, the arrogance in that stance, and the grin; oh that fucking shit-eating grin. It didn’t go away. Pain changed it to a haunting grimace and it filled with laughter as he slashed at the fiery redhead’s body, but it never let go of that goddamn confidence. What was his name? Ah, Ichigo Kurosaki. He wanted to kill him.

   “What’s wrong Kurosaki?! I just wanna have a little fun before I send ya off to Seireitei!” He pressed down on Ichigo’s throat, thrilling in the pump of blood he could feel in the jugular just below his palm. Kurosaki’s life gone in a flash of blood. He shivered with anticipation. The problem was he didn’t just want Kurosaki dead. He wanted him. His body was young, strong, smaller than his. Lithe and smooth. Those delicious eyes were haunted. Could he make them worse?

   “You sick fuck,” he spat out at him. Those lips. Grimmjow wanted them to beg for mercy and beg for pleasure. He wanted to fuck those lips to oblivion. He wanted to possess every little bit of Ichigo Kurosaki.

   “I like it better when they fight back,” Grimmjow said with a grin. He straddled Ichigo’s hips and pressed his arousal against him and bit his lip against sounding out his pleasure. The look of disgust on Ichigo’s face deepened while Grimmjow’s grin widened. He ripped open Ichigo’s hakama and splayed his hands out across his torso, crudely discovering every crevice in his abs, temptingly soft with his touch. “You’re so hot, Kurosaki,” he moaned, watching for the redhead’s reaction. He was rewarded with a cry of rage and hands reaching up to pummel him. One fist connected with his cheek; it didn’t hurt. The other hand Grimmjow caught and licked, looking right into Ichigo’s eyes as he did. He circled his tongue around his fingers lewdly, daring him with his eyes.

   “You son of a bitch! I’ll kill you!” His words were filled with bravado, but he looked away first. Grimmjow sucked tightly on a finger before letting go to touch his body again and feel his warm flesh, while he leaned down to bite and suck at his neck. Ichigo growled in protest and bit at Grimmjow’s neck, drawing blood. He just laughed.

   “I like it rough, Kurosaki…Maybe we’ll get along after all,” he said cruelly, biting a nipple. Ichigo cried out in surprise and pain but was silenced by Grimmjow’s harsh kiss, tongue slamming down into his mouth and throat. Muffled sounds of protest formed around the hot slickness that explored his mouth, sounds that slowly became shriller as Grimmjow’s skilled hand slid silkily to ichigo’s crotch and gripped his member. The protests sounded more insistent and panicked until he finally broke away from the kiss with harsh laughter. “I also like it when you come to play too,” he said huskily into his ear, before letting his tongue dive into those crevices as well. His fingers played in circles along Ichigo’s cock, tauntingly gentle before pumping roughly and erratically, and then playing one fingertip harshly into his slit again and again until Ichigo writhed in pain, and then comforted the boy with soft palming.

   “Stop, stop it already! You already won goddammit!” He cried out. The boy was almost sobbing. The glistening in his eyes was so fuckin beautiful. He’d torture this little fuck all day long just for this. This wasn’t the pain at being beaten, being raped, this was this little strawberry’s pain at the whole fuckin’ world. Being a shinigami. Having to be better than the rest. Having to be a man too soon when at heart he was just a big fuckin baby. And Grimmjow knew nothing better than being angry at the whole fucking world and not being able to anything about it. He pulled his hand from Ichigo’s now hard cock and slapped him across the face.

   “Quit whinin’ ya little bitch, just take it like a man why don’t ya? But I guess you’re not really a man are ya, ya little fairy boy,” he drove the point home by grinding their crotches together. Ichigo winced and looked both breathless and hurt by the pleasure. “A man wouldn’t get hard when he’s about ta get raped.”

~

   Ichigo was so hard it hurt. It wasn’t fucking fair. Grimmjow’s goddamned hands, fighting, murdering, calloused hands were so goddamn good. He’d never felt that good when touching himself, and no matter that he was angry out of his fucking mind, scared shitless that he was about to be raped by a maniacal arrancar, his grinding hips just made him even hornier and angrier. “Just get the fuck off of me and I won’t tell anybody what a fucking creep you are!” Him the creep? He closed his eyes and grit his teeth as Grimmjow rolled his hips again.

   “Ooo, that’s funny Kurosaki,” Grimmjow purred. “I’m not the one who’ll have to explain this to anyone,” he said, and raked his nails ruthlessly down his chest. Ichigo screamed. “You little fuckin tart, I’ve had enough of this,” he said while grimacing. The Espada quickly pulled down his pants,
eyes burning with lust, and without any words at all he flipped the shinigami onto his stomach and yanked his pants down.

   “Wait, Grimmjow—“ Without any preparation, he shoved his full length inside of him. Ichigo screamed and so did the teal monster above him, cursing the tight heat of virgins and fucking redheads, while the redhead in question began to sob. “Shit! Shit! What the fuck is wrong with you!” He cried, and writhed in agony.

   “Just shut up!” Grimmjow growled. “Just take it you dumb fuck, wait five seconds!” He yelled as he pounded into him. Ichigo still sobbed, but a cry of pleasure snuck in amongst his distressed sounds as delicate, murderous hands reached around to grab his aching length and pump it. He tightened with every pump of the Espada’s hands, and even as he felt blood drip down his thighs and exhaustion creep into his muscles, so too did he feel pleasure begin to creep in with that feeling of fullness. A clever finger teased across his slit and he cried out, convulsing.

   “Goddamnit! Stop!” His muscles tensed.

   “Oh yeah Kurosaki, fuck me back!” Grimmjow pressed him down against the ground and thrust even harder. Was he enjoying himself? Tears dripped down his cheeks and gravel dug into his chest, but something about Grimmjow made something burn with fire inside of him. Maybe it was a thirst for revenge. He hoped that was it, but as he began to whimper and moan in discomfort and desire, he realized it might not be. He was so…so…close…Something slammed deep inside of him and made him see white.

   “Grimmjow!” He screamed and came hard against Jeagerjacques hand, spilling his seed into his hand and crying out with relief. Grimmjow yelled out a string of expletives as the shinigami tightened around him, and he thrust spastically and harder than ever, before yelling out in release. Ichigo felt himself fill with burning liquid. Then the tension drained from his body and he went limp. His hands scrabbled at the ground as he sobbed now without any abandon. He felt the arrancar pull out of him and pull his pants up. Then he surprised him by fixing up his own clothes as well, pulling tight his hakama, and then pulling the shinigami into his arms. Ichigo roared and pounded his fists against his chest. “You bastard! You fucking bastard! Don’t you touch me! Nobody fucking touch me!” He let out another agonized scream as strong arms tightened around him. “Bastards! All of them! Goddamnit! Goddamnit!”

“Fuck…I know kid. Let the whole world know.” Nobody knew like Grimmjow what it felt to be angry at the whole goddamn world.

DISCLAIMER: All characters depicted in sexual situations in this post/fanfiction/fanart (including material in the comments) are fictional and are intended to be and considered to be by the author of said material of the legal age of consent in the United States state of California, regardless of what age these characters may be in the material they are derived from.

Announcement

Mon, 19 Oct 2009 03:01:12 GMT

I have been thinking about Angry at the World a lot lately and I've reached a decision. For the story to go where I want to go, to have a proper ending, to make sense, it can no longer be based on the original one-shot. Angry at the World has to be rewritten. The most major changes will be in the first few chapters, beginning with the fact that Ichigo will no longer be raped. With that included the story is inherently bad. It was meant to be a one-shot and to base an entire, very long story off of it was not a good idea, and the project became larger than I ever intended. I will make the original one-shot still available but I will not keep the entirety of the story as it is saved. The process will probably be slow and gradual as I am at school now, but I don't think anyone is holding their breath anymore anyway.

I think you guys will understand, as you have always been understanding of my extreme lateness, and know that I am grateful for the readers I have and every comment I receive. I miss writing a great deal.

To Learn - Part III - Final

Mon, 03 Aug 2009 20:12:29 GMT

Title: To Learn
Pairing: Ichigo x Ishida
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Ichigo finds an intellectual way to get closer to Ishida. Ishida doesn't get it.
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or its characters, nor do I make any money from these endeavors.

Thank you to everyone who has read, and to everyone who has commented. I don't reply to all of them but that doesn't mean they aren't read and enjoyed. :)

Writing something "short" for once has been... refreshing.

Special thanks to my beta, bundamba !

Part I

Part II

Part III

I might, if hard pressed, admit that I am somewhat emotionally underdeveloped. ...No, I take that back. I don't believe I'd ever admit that to anyone but myself, and doing that took long enough. Long enough to see that too much emotional contact is a recipe for disaster. Long enough to see that a dearth of it can wither the human soul.

And there I am stuck. Or I was-- without my permission I found myself drawn from my aloofness into a circle of people with too much emotion...and too much red hair.

It's not that I don't feel. It's more like each feeling is an uncomfortable prick of surprise. I used to know how to react; with a cold and calculated statement designed to make others leave. However, none of my new friends have reacted normally, and I cannot tell what I will do until it happens. I hate spontaneity. In feelings I am so far behind.

I never really thought the stupid Shinigami could teach me anything; I thought he was too incompetent to teach anything but how to hit things hard. Yet looking back he taught me about social functioning without making it obvious at all. Without having to ask, and after having antagonized him and endangered those things he holds dear, I was still enveloped in his social circle.

I could mistake it as Kurosaki's feelings for me, however I believe he did it simply because he's Kurosaki, and maybe that is something he should teach others to be.

When Kurosaki promised that everything would be fine that next day, he was certainly correct. Things were absolutely fine. And sterile. Polite hellos and goodbyes; formal how are you doing? And I’m good, thank you. It was stagnant and awful and I should have expected it. If I were Kurosaki I would want as much distance as possible, to get over it. Yet I had asked, almost demanded that things remain the same; an impossibility.

Well, Kurosaki isn't that good of a liar, but here he is, trying because I asked. Is it for me, or is it because he's Ichigo?

I think...for me. Because he can be amazingly selfless, but not like this. He's hurting himself for me. So maybe this half-hearted attempt at normalcy is the best a wounded heart can do.

I am horrible. I need more than normal; I demand it.

Ichigo and Chad sat together on the riverbank. They'd already been there for quite some time, enjoying each other's company in silence. It was clear from the beginning, however, that there was something they needed to talk about.

"What happened?" Sado asked simply. Ichigo scowled at him before turning his gaze straight ahead.

"Ishida, he... I haven't been able to stop..." he struggled for the words, and looked at Chad for confirmation.

"I know," he replied. Ichigo sighed heavily at that, but didn't look surprised. If anything his expression was unusually vulnerable.

"...I kissed him," the Shinigami said, looking away from his friend again. He knew deep down that Chad wouldn't reject him for it, but he couldn't help his shame. The act was not only embarrassing by itself, but also stupid.

"I don't think less of you, Ichigo. You're just the same," Sado told him after a moment of thought.

"Thanks Chad," Kurosaki said quietly. "But it was stupid. Who kisses first before talkin' about anything?"

"Ishida seems to be taking it rather well," he observed.

"He wanted things to stay the same. We talked about it after. ...But how the hell can things be the same? He knows, and I know he doesn't care!"

"How...do you know?" Chad asked slowly.

"Huh?" Ichigo was confused.

"Did you ask?" Sado questioned him.

"...No, Ishida was askin' the questions," he replied cautiously. Asking, tch. Wasn’t not kissing back answer enough? …But didn’t I just say kissin’ first without talkin’ about it was a bad idea? Maybe springing that on him…

"He hasn't rejected you outright. He reached out to you." Ichigo stared at Chad. The giant teen sighed heavily, and looked off into the distance for a moment before looking back at his redheaded friend. "...He watches you too, y'know," Sado informed him. Ichigo looked dumbstruck, then insecure. Chad remained silent.

“…Hope almost hurts more,” Ichigo said finally.

“I know,” Chad rumbled.

Kurosaki had been gone from school for a little under an hour. During that time, Ishida had sensed four Hollows; Hollows that Ichigo seemed to take his sweet time in killing. After another twenty minutes passed and the redhead had not returned, Uryuu made his excuses to the teacher and left. Only Chad watched him leave, and his stare was unnerving. Ishida pretended not to notice.

Once the Quincy was close to the Shinigami he realized why so many Hollows had appeared. Kurosaki’s reiatsu was wilder than usual, flaring every which way with no control. Uryuu approached him.

“Do you want someone to die?” Ishida asked coldly. The redhead whirled to face him, anger and distress written on his face. “This is dangerous. For you and everyone else.”

“I’m not doin’ this on purpose,” he said with restraint while his reiatsu whipped violently through the air. Ishida stepped closer.

“You’re being selfish,” he said bitingly with no remorse. …I don’t know where this animosity is coming from. I know Kurosaki can hardly control his power.

“I’m being selfish?” Kurosaki didn’t look like he understood.

“Aren’t you the one always preaching about protecting your friends? This is a poor way to go about doing it.” I can’t stop provoking him. What’s wrong with me?

“What the hell Ishida?!”

“Exercise some control and do what you need to do!” Uryuu criticized. Kurosaki snapped. He grabbed Ishida by the front of his shirt and threw him to the ground. The Quincy stared up at him in shock.

“When is enough, enough?!” Ichigo cried. “How can you expect anything more from me, you bastard?!” Uryuu realized what he had made the conversation about. The redhead grimaced as he looked down at Ishida before roughly hauling the Quincy to his feet. “You’re cruel. Following me around like this…” Ishida’s heartbeat quickened. “Demanding I pretend?!”

“I want things to…” Why am I terrified? I’m never scared.

“Things will never be the same! I made sure of that! You of all people should have realized that the moment I touched your face,” Kurosaki said bitterly. Ishida stared at him, unable to think of what to say. He couldn’t untangle the web of what he was feeling. “…Do you watch me?” Ichigo asked unexpectedly. The Quincy’s eyes widened.

“I…of course not,” he stammered. No, he had never kept watching after Kurosaki had looked away. He had never arrived to dispatch a Hollow only to watch the fool do it instead. He had never thought of others with scorn when they fawned over the redhead.

Except he had done all of those things. No…I don’t watch him the same way. It doesn’t mean the same thing.

“…You do,” the Shinigami ventured quietly. It doesn’t mean the same thing. “You do. What does it mean?” he pressed. It doesn’t mean the same thing. It doesn’t…

“Ichigo, it doesn’t mean…” Ishida stopped, and his heart nearly did too. The redhead stared. Does it mean the same thing?

“Was that on purpose?” the Shinigami asked quietly. It could. It could mean the same thing. “Ishida,” Kurosaki breathed. “Do you give a damn?” There’s only one way to find out.

Uryuu pulled Ichigo close and kissed him.

I suppose this is my own fault, him liking me and then trying something like this.

And finding out I like it.

“Ishida?” Kurosaki ventured, staring at the wall. They sat next to each other on the dark-haired teen’s couch, hands barely touching.

“Yes?” The Quincy asked, moving his hand over Ichigo’s almost shyly. It had been like this for a week. Careful touches and occasionally passionate kisses in private, each unsure of how far the other wanted to go.

“When we’re alone, can I call you Uryuu?” Ichigo turned to look at his partner and friend, serious and finally without doubt or anger. Ishida blinked, and then smirked and adjusted his glasses.

“You can call me that in public too, stupid,” he offered with a hint of arrogance, and Kurosaki smiled in response. Ishida felt his cheeks color and his heart do a little flip. The last time he remembered the redhead smiling was while he slept, and this felt much better to see. “And…” Uryuu started, “ I’ll call you Ichigo.”

“In public?” Kurosaki asked skeptically, grinning.

“In public,” Ishida confirmed, and punched his arm lightly.

“Can I do this to you in public too?” Ichigo leaned over and gave him a chaste kiss on the lips. The Quincy swallowed, thinking over what that would mean. It would mean a different kind of life. Does different mean bad?…Not necessarily.

“…Yes,” Ishida answered after a moment’s thought. Ichigo’s hand clasped Uryuu’s.

“What about this?” The redhead kissed him more deeply, surging against the Quincy’s lips.

“Yes,” he answered again with a little less hesitation. Grinning, Ichigo moved to straddle Ishida’s lap, and kissed him languorously, tongue slowly sliding into Uryuu’s mouth. The dark-haired teen made a small noise in the back of his throat and pulled Kurosaki closer. The Shinigami moved seamlessly from his boyfriend’s lips to plant careful kisses on his jaw and neck. Ishida could feel his blush extending all the way down to his shoulders, so he grabbed Ichigo’s arms and gently pushed him back. “No, you may not do this to me in public,” he scolded. Kurosaki just laughed.

“I have to check,” he said devilishly, and dove down to kiss the base of Uryuu’s throat while his hands slid sensuously down the slim boy’s hips.

“None of this in public. None of this in public!” He gasped.

“If this is your version of ‘stop’ you need to be more specific,” Kurosaki said and pulled away with a scowl.

“Keep going!” The Quincy said with irritation.

“Gotcha, Queenie,” Ichigo taunted.

“…Off.”

Our tutoring sessions continued, but both our grades began to drop again. It was probably due to the fact that at least half of our time usually devolved into kissing and learning about each other rather than school subjects. Once I realized this, Tuesdays and Thursdays became strictly “no touching” until our studies were complete. Ichigo became an even more dedicated student after that, I’m proud to say.

I was…disappointed…at the lack of surprise from our friends. They seemed to have already suspected something or didn’t care. Except Renji. Renji flipped his lid a bit. When we told him, it seems he thought it was a joke until he saw Kurosaki kiss me later, and not in a chaste manner. A swift kick in the ass from Ichigo was enough to bring him back to his senses.

Ichigo, bless the bastard; he is still the same as he ever was. And I? I have changed, for the better I think.

I suppose all of it happened because of the tutoring. With a simple gesture towards Kurosaki I set out on an irreversible path. I don’t know exactly where I’m going anymore, not everything is planned, and it doesn’t bother me. Because of him, and he certainly isn’t done yet.

I did not know how much there was to learn until I began to teach.

To Learn - Part II

Fri, 24 Jul 2009 23:02:29 GMT

Title: To Learn
Pairing: Ichigo x Ishida
Rating: PG-13 for swearing
Summary: Ichigo finds an intellectual way to get closer to Ishida. Ishida doesn't get it.
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or its characters, nor do I make any money from these endeavors.

For some reason the paragraph indents have gotten a bit messed up and I had to fix it manually, I don't know how close I am but please ignore it if it's wonky. Thank you.

And special thanks to my Beta, bundamba !

Part I

Part II

“Shit. Shit, shit!” Ichigo threw his book bag across his room. It wouldn’t have been that hard to walk away, to just piss Ishida off a little and keep to himself. Instead when it mattered most, he’d cracked. Spectacularly.

It wasn’t in his blood to give in or confide and in that respect, keeping his secret had been easy. It was being so bone-tired and being around the Quincy so often that had begun to take its toll, put cracks in his ability to cope with such an unusual problem. He had thought that his feelings about Ishida would change or disappear, but no such luck. They only became worse.

Ichigo sat down on his bed and ran his fingers through his hair.

“You dumbass,” he cursed himself. Touching Ishida’s face had been elating. Kissing him had been wonderful, as one-sided as it was. But it wasn’t worth it. Now he would lose everything with his friend, all because of a moment’s loss of self-control. Imagining his eyes, his face, his body, all that would be cruelty now. He couldn’t even entertain the fantasy.

Fantasy. About his friend. How sick. If only he were a girl… …If only I liked girls. Fuck it all. Will he tell anyone? What would he say, what would anyone say? Kurosaki, the faggot. I’ll get in even more fights—and I guess I’ll find out who my real friends are.

It would be worth it. It would all be worth it, if only Ishida gave a damn. Ichigo was pretty sure that he didn’t. He lay back on his bed, arm over his eyes, determined to think the worst. Lost and heart-hurt, he stayed that way until his Shinigami badge flashed.

In a haze, Ishida walked to his couch and simply fell onto it. He must have had a fever dream or hallucinated, or worse, imagined it. The angry, pain-in-the-ass, stubborn fool hadn’t gently touched his face and kissed him… Uryuu touched his lips lightly, remembering. Kisses were ungodly warm.

Why? Ishida’s exquisite brain was running in circles, wondering why why why and never once thinking of the word “disgust,” which scared the Quincy more than anything else. Why didn’t the thought of Ichigo repulse him now? What kind of man didn’t push away and froze instead? What could he do now that his friend—and yes, he was forced to admit that Kurosaki was a friend—had changed things forever between them?

Why had he never told Kurosaki to stop staring?

He didn’t know.

Uryuu had to do something now; that much was clear. As much as avoidance might be on Kurosaki’s mind, Ishida knew that in most cases, a clear confrontation yielded the best results. All those milling questions in his head demanded to be answered, and once they were, perhaps there would be no problems.

If he viewed this as solving a problem, the Quincy found it was much more comfortable to think about.

The most pressing matter was how to con the Shinigami into having a talk with him in the first place. Uryuu knew that if he had suddenly kissed his best friend there would be no catching him the next day. What a strange thought. …Best friend? Oh, damn. It’s true, isn’t it? Kurosaki is my… that just complicates things further. All the more reason to deal with this quickly.

Next was what critical issues needed to be resolved before the conversation ended, and which questions would do that best, and the quickest. Ichigo would be antsy and want to leave, so there was a limited amount of time to gather information. Unless the Shinigami decided to completely defy expectations… Ishida reflected for a moment that perhaps he was being too clinical about the situation, but he dismissed those concerns quickly. Proper planning never yielded the wrong conclusions.

Three Hollows at once. Ichigo had already gracelessly taken care of the first and weakest. He dodged from the dangerously synched remaining pair, having too many near misses for such weak Hollows. Ishida couldn’t help it; Ichigo was wasting time and the Quincy couldn’t stand inefficiency. He shot several arrows at one Hollow and it dissolved quickly, leaving Kurosaki free to slice through the mask of the last assailant.

After he was done, Kurosaki let his sword point rest on the ground while he stared off into the city skyline. His breath was heavy, unusually so. Impossible from such a quick battle, so it was something else. Probably me.

“Kurosaki,” Uryuu called, and jumped down from his perch. Ichigo didn’t turn around. Fear thrilled up his chest, why, he couldn’t say. “Kurosaki,” he repeated.

“I heard ya the first time. I’m waitin’ for what else you have to say,” Ichigo replied calmly, and turned around. His face was anything but calm. It was haunted, angry. His eyes were discreet, but he looked the Quincy up and down in his uniform. Ishida saw all of it, and the sinking feeling in his stomach warned him that this wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d thought.

“We should talk. At my apartment would be best, I think,” Ishida offered mechanically. Non-committal speech, no emotions. Those were what Ishida needed to remember about this conversation.

“Can’t you just call me a fag out in the open and get it over with?” Kurosaki asked bitterly. Uryuu was genuinely taken aback.

“I would never refer to you with such crude language; much less use it at all.”

“…” Ichigo didn’t look like he believed it. What would make him? Ah, of course… Mind screaming against it, Ishida allowed a bit of emotion into his voice.

“We need to talk, and we should do it before school. You answer my questions and I’ll answer yours,” Uryuu offered quietly and adjusted his glasses.

“I think I already got an answer,” Kurosaki replied with a scowl. How could he not have more questions? Ishida wondered. Maybe he was hiding them; maybe he was hoping they could just be done with this.

“Stop being so difficult and let’s go,” the Quincy commanded coldly. He turned and left, hoping the Shinigami would follow him. While it took a minute or so, Ishida could tell that the reluctant teen was behind him from his wild reiatsu. Kurosaki really needed to learn how to control it. Maybe if this meeting didn’t end in disaster, Uryuu could be the one to help.

Once inside the apartment, Ishida quietly shut the door behind them and sat down across from Kurosaki in the living room. An awkward silence stretched between them, one that Ichigo broke.

“You said you had questions,” he said with a grimace.

“…Why’d you do it?” Uryuu asked stoically.

“You’re idiotic,” Ichigo replied flatly.

“Knowing you, it could have been some…cruel prank!” He regretted his choice of words almost instantly.

“Cruel? …I guess I deserve that,” Kurosaki said stiffly. “…But I didn’t do it to be cruel.” Ishida remained silent. “I did it because being around you is driving me crazy,” Ichigo said, hands closing into fists. “Because I can’t stop watching you.”

“Why?” he could only ask the same question. His careful plans for the meeting had so quickly disappeared from his head, and now he seemed unable to think on his feet.

“Fuck, I can’t do this, Ishida,” Kurosaki said, looking away.

“I need to know! I have a right to know,” he insisted. Ichigo turned to glare at him. “Say it,” the words came unbidden from Ishida’s mouth.

“No,” he said bitterly, and stood up. “I won’t be interrogated, you bastard. I shouldn’t’ve agreed to this.” The Quincy’s mouth went dry.

“I want things to stay the same,” he insisted as though it were the only logical course.

“I think I messed that up already,” Ichigo muttered.

“No. I can ignore it. Can’t you just…” Uryuu trailed off.

“Pretend? Yeah, sure Ishida. Tomorrow, everything’ll be fine between us. I promise,” Ichigo said with resignation; the tone hurt to hear. After a moment the Shinigami walked away, and so the Quincy’s way of life was preserved.

Kurosaki is the one who messed up. So why do I feel terrible?

COMMUNITY DISCLAIMER: All characters depicted in sexual situations in this post/fanfiction/fanart (including material in the comments) are fictional and are intended to be and considered to be by the author of said material of the legal age of consent in the United States state of California, regardless of what age these characters may be in the material they are derived from.

Quick Beta?

Tue, 21 Jul 2009 21:14:21 GMT

Anyone willing to do a quick read-through of To Learn part II? It's not too long, but I'm worried about keeping Ichigo and Ishida in character. And if you'd go back and help with part I that would be even more spectacular. Thanks much!

To Learn

Mon, 20 Jul 2009 00:27:37 GMT

Title: To Learn
Pairing: Ichigo x Ishida
Rating: PG? maybe PG-13 for now, may change.
Summary: A lovesick Ichigo finds an intellectual way to get closer to Ishida.
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or its characters, nor do I make any money from these endeavors.

I haven't written in awhile, and I haven't written any Ichigo x Ishida in even longer. This is also unbeta-ed. Will be continued. I hope you enjoy!

Intro

It used to be that Kurosaki Ichigo didn’t know that I existed. I was quite fine with that state of affairs; peace and quiet suit me better than loud hair and gang fights. Yet ever since the day I first introduced myself to the Shinigami…

I’ve never been able to tell if the boy is massively inobservant or just unwilling to tell people what he can see. He seems clueless enough for the former yet just as likely to do the latter. He has no reason to tell people what he can observe about them, since I suppose doing so will just change their behavior. He probably enjoys what little consistency he can find in his bizarre life.

Kurosaki’s observation skills have my attention now because, whereas before he had not afforded me a passing glance, he now looks at me with slightly widened eyes as if surprised by what he sees, and eyebrows not pinned so closely together in stress. I know he does it often, even though I only bother to catch him at it occasionally. Then he looks away and pretends to be gazing at something else. Strange boy.

On days I become annoyed by his choice of view, I quirk an eyebrow and watch him until he becomes bothered enough to either scowl or stop.

Then he just switches to watching my hands. He must be supremely bored, or perhaps he just wants to copy my notes. He does well enough in school as far as I know, he just has a shaky attention span. His notes are probably disorganized, so finally, fed up with his strange behavior, I offered to let him look through my notes before a test. His brow furrowed more than usual, and he looked confused. Bothered, actually. I couldn’t have injured his pride, or he would be yelling at me already, so I must have triggered some inner dilemma. Then he grudgingly asked if I would please help him study, as his grades had been slipping.

I could have sighed in relief. How stupidly simple. All that staring because he was too embarrassed to ask me for help? How like Kurosaki. I knew he had little sisters and a disarmingly vivacious father, so I told him I would tutor him at my apartment. He muttered something about it not really being tutoring, but I told him to shut up. I threatened that he better not waste my time.

He didn’t. He was quiet, and studious, and soft-spoken. It was a side I didn’t even imagine Kurosaki possessed. It seemed as though he felt he was imposing on my domain, and he tread as lightly as he could. Courteous of him, and odd. He left, and did excellent on our next test. I was a little proud of myself and of him, I admit.

He didn’t stop watching. His eyes seemed to change again, from widened to lowered lids, filled with…something. I didn’t know what it was, but Kurosaki was the only one I knew who could let you know he was feeling something with just his eyes. Not the little wrinkles or twist of the mouth, just the intensity of his eyes. It’s an unnerving quality.

Part I

When Ichigo asked Ishida if he would help again, the Quincy was conflicted. Kurosaki could be annoying. But the Hollows had been thick that week and it showed on the Shinigami’s tired and plaintive face. He probably hadn’t had time to study, so Ishida agreed.

But later that day, the idiot was having a much harder time studying. Ishida rapped on the table with his knuckles.

“Hey, Kurosaki!” Ichigo seemed unfocused, occasionally looking at the bespectacled boy without really looking. It pissed Ishida off.

“What? …Sorry Ishida,” the Shinigami muttered. “I’m tired.”

“Then you shouldn’t have come over,” the Quincy replied bitingly. “I’m not getting paid here.”

“I…I know, I said I was sorry already,” Ichigo said, jaw clenching. He must really be tired to act so strangely, Ishida thought. Not that it made him want to give any quarter.

“Are you going to focus now, or should I kick you out and save myself the trouble?”

“Don’t be such a drama-queen. Just teach me already.” Ishida pinned him with a disapproving glance, but began teaching again. After two hours, when Ichigo began to yawn and looked positively done in, Uryuu decided they were finished. He walked with the infuriating redhead to the door, when Ichigo suddenly stopped and turned to face Uryuu. The dark-haired boy stopped as well.

“Well, what?” He asked sardonically. Kurosaki looked at him with a grimace and tense brows. He took a half step towards Ishida before swiftly turning away and opening the door.

“Nothing. See ya,” and he walked out the door unceremoniously, leaving a confused and curious Quincy.

The tutoring became a weekly affair. Even Ishida’s almost impeccable grades seemed to improve after he began teaching Kurosaki, so the Quincy saw no reason to stop the sessions. Kurosaki’s grades were improving as well, and it gave Ishida good reason to be smug around the irrepressible Shinigami.

Though lately, Uryuu reflected, the Shinigami hadn’t been so irrepressible at all. He seemed awkward and tired. Sometimes their study sessions became Ichigo crashing on the dark-haired boy’s couch for a few hours in relief from his duties and from his family.

Ishida had nearly gone postal on the idiot when he first discovered him napping, but when he had seen how peaceful Kurosaki looked—eyebrows and body relaxed, a small smile on his face that Uryuu had never seen before—he couldn’t help but leave the annoying teen to his sleep. This particular time, however, there was no peaceful expression on Ichigo’s face, so Ishida felt no compulsion to let him rest. A swift smack on the head was enough to jolt Kurosaki out of sleep, and he grabbed the Quincy’s hand in reaction.

“Oy! What the hell was that for?” The Shinigami demanded crankily.

“You were drooling on my pillows,” Ishida replied, voice extremely dry. “I’m not going to wash them just for you.”

“You’ve done it before!” Ichigo protested. Ishida raised his eyebrows.

“Well, I’m not going to do it this time. Und-er-stand?” He said too-slowly to insult the redhead. Ichigo scowled. “By the way, are you going to let go of my hand anytime soon?” Ishida asked nonchalantly; Kurosaki let go of his hand before he even finished the sentence. “You’re getting stranger,” the Quincy accused. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’,” Ichigo said shortly, and stood up. “I’m fine, why should you care?”

“Don’t be insulting. You’ve been coming here for over a month. Someone far stupider than I could tell something is up.”

“…You don’t wanna know,” Ichigo said after a moment, and grabbed his book bag.

“Of course I want to know, or I wouldn’t have asked, Kurosaki,” Ishida told him, voice on edge.

“You don’t wanna know,” he repeated, letting stress break through his voice. Ishida stared at him in surprise. Ichigo looked away and began to walk towards the door; against his better judgment, Uryuu followed. Because he very much wanted to know.

“Kurosaki! I’m going to find out eventually, so why don’t you make this easier on the both of us and tell me already?” The Quincy grabbed his shirt to hold him back. Ichigo pinned him against the wall in retaliation.

“You really wanna know, Ishida?! Suddenly I’m more than some Shinigami piece of shit?” Uryuu stared at him, speechless. Ichigo’s expression was angry and hopeless all at once, and it only confused the dark-haired teen more. He was somewhat afraid that Ichigo would decide to start fight right then and there, and tensed in preparation. But what the redhead did was far more alarming than that.

Ichigo let Uryuu go, took his chin in one hand and kissed him. Ishida was struck dumb. The Shinigami’s kiss was tentative, gentle, and nothing the Quincy would have ever expected when he asked what was wrong. Kurosaki pulled away, and once he saw the look on Ishida’s face, his own expression became pained. Without another word, he left, leaving a confused and curious Quincy.

COMMUNITY DISCLAIMER: All characters depicted in sexual situations in this post/fanfiction/fanart (including material in the comments) are fictional and are intended to be and considered to be by the author of said material of the legal age of consent in the United States state of California, regardless of what age these characters may be in the material they are derived from.

Mon, 18 May 2009 01:26:58 GMT

To ease navigation of my stories, I have constructed a hopefully error-free and complete Table of Contents. If you happen to notice a broken or incorrect link, please notify me. Lemons are all NC-17. Multi-part stories listed at the end.

Table of Contents

I. Architect - Ichigo x Ishida - Drama, WAFF

II. Cat's Gospel - Grimmjow x Ichigo - Angst, character death, short

III. Getting What You Want - Grimmjow x Ichigo - Fluff...ish

IV. Happy AAAGH! - Ichigo x Ishida - Fluff

V. Losing - Byakuya x Ulquiorra - Lemon, violence

VI. My Ghost - Hitsugaya - Angst

VII. The Price of Nobility - Nel - Introspection

VIII. A Thirsty Bloom - Urahara x Ichigo - Lemony WAFF

IX. To Learn - Ichigo x Ishida - A little angst, a little WAFF. Complete
   i. Part I
  ii. Part II
iii. Part III

X. Revive Me - Grimmjow x Ichigo - Lemon, angst, violence, alternating POV
   i. Revive Me
ii. Revive You
iii. Fix Me
iv. (Don't Trust Me to) Fix You

XI. Stars - Grimmjow x Ichigo - Lemon straight up
   i. Madonna
ii. Divine
iii. Imogen

XII. Angry at the World - Grimmjow x Ichigo - Violence, sex, some N/C.
   Chapter 1 - Angry at the World
   Chapter 2 - After
   Chapters 3-5 - Acquaintance, Parasite, Secrets
   Chapters 6-8 - Epiphany, Greater than the Self, Be it Ever so Humble
   Chapters 9-11 - As Cruel as School Children, Enigmas, Hot Blooded
   Chapters 12 & 13 - Exposition, Misplaced Affections
   Chapters 14 & 15 - The World Shakes, Aftershock
   Chapter 16 - Un/Comfortable
   Chapter 17 - Everyone Except You
   Chapter 18 - Other Bodies
   Chapter 19 - Mirrors
   Chapter 20 - And So He Falls
   Chapter 21 - With Cruel Speed
   Chapter 22 - Reaping
   Chapter 23 - Gifte
   Chapter 24 - Curiouser and Curiouser
   Chapter 25 - Union

DISCLAIMER: All characters depicted in sexual situations in this fanfiction (including material in the comments) are fictional and are intended to be and considered to be by the author of said material of the legal age of consent in the United States state of California, regardless of what age these characters may be in the material they are derived from

Angry at the World - Chapter 25 - Union

Tue, 21 Apr 2009 20:23:10 GMT

Title: Angry at the World
Pairing: Grimmjow x Ichigo
Rating: NC-17 as a whole; this time R
Description: Trauma and dark fascination draw Grimmjow and Ichigo closer, until obsession keeps them together. As the Winter War looms, they fight not to become pawns in a game whose claws dig deeper than they could have ever realized.
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach, make no money from these stories, not real, please don't sue, etc.

Enjoy, and a thank you to my readers. Without you, this would have stayed a one-shot.

Chapter 25 - Union

“Dammit,” Ichigo said to himself with gritted teeth. That conversation yielded as many questions as it had answered. He stood up slowly, looking grim. I can only assume Aizen ain’t lying, Ichigo thought. But then, where is Grimmjow? Why do I have to want to see him so badly? … I can’t even understand myself when I try. At least now I’ll have plenty of time to keep asking myself, he thought, unable to keep bitterness away.

Plenty of time. …Indefinitely… Realization settled sharp and cold in the pit of his stomach. No one else wanted to save Orihime. They wouldn’t waste the extra manpower it would take to saver her… to save me, he thought disdainfully. I can’t believe I need saving. I can’t believe I’ve let this happen. Then the dizziness began to set in, and he was forced to sit down on the edge of his bed. It was all a trap.

If Aizen even wanted Orihime, he surely knew Ichigo would waste no time in trying to save her with his few friends. And race to the rescue he did, just as Aizen had wanted.

And now he was captured. Orihime was no closer to freedom than before, and Danna was probably dead because of him. The cold in the boy’s stomach was swiftly becoming nausea.

How could he have forgotten? The poor girl hadn’t even crossed his mind or his questions when Aizen had been in the room. Disgusting of me…Ishida… will never forgive me. How could I…Ichigo swallowed hard. There was no actual proof the singer was dead. She was a Vaizard, surely she had to have powers he didn’t know about. He had to believe that; he couldn’t spend his time grieving in this room, not when he was alone with his thoughts. He couldn’t afford to indulge in self-destruction.

Worst of all, Ichigo still knew next to nothing about why he was here, only its high cost. That for now he wasn’t dead, for now. Hopefully they were going to keep it that way. As for Aizen’s message… Grimmjow hadn’t visited; is he allowed?

Maybe Grimmjow isn’t here yet because… He would be pissed. He would help me escape, Ichigo thought with a rakish grin. They know better. Maybe he isn’t such a bastard after all. They can’t keep me hidden from him forever. It was a shy fire in his chest. Hope made him nervous; he was never sure it was worth the pain. But…

Don’t make me regret hoping for you, you asshole.

Danna Ruby felt so much better that she thought she could only be dreaming. Her eyes flickered opened and weren’t accompanied by any throbbing pains. When she lifted her hand to gently touch her head there was only a slightly jarring. Little Nel managed this all by herself?

“Nel?” The Vaizard called quietly, unsure of where she was other than a hard floor and a gray ceiling.

“Ruby!” Nel launched at her stomach, and her arms closed like a vice. Ruby choked a yell back and inhaled down the wrong pipe. In response, one hefty white hand lifted her up while the other smacked her back much harder than was necessary, just prompting more coughing. “WHAT DID YOU DO?!” Nel screamed at Dondochokka, who was now the picture of regret.

“I was just trying to help, don’ cha’ know?” He exclaimed, tears flowing.

If Danna hadn’t been coughing she’d have stared at them all like a lost child. Nel and two…Hollow-esque creatures, one of them downright terrifying while he cried, surrounded her.

“Can I…just have some space?” Danna squeaked. Nel mouthed “oh no,” looking mortified.

“Space, she needs space!” The little girl shoved Dondochokka out of the cave completely and motioned for Pesche to do the same. Danna was confused.

“Not that much space, you don’t need to leave!” The Vaizard protested. Nel looked at her, lips pursed.

“Then you shoulda specificied!” The green-haired girl said with her hands on her hips.

“Yeah, don’cha’ know!” Dondochokka shouted in Danna’s face. She let out a little scream in response.

“Dondochokka, restrain yourself! Our guest is injured!” Pesche implored him, tugging him away from Danna.

“Yeah, just be a little careful eh?” She squeaked, eyes wide. This was turning out…differently than she’d expected. Actually, Danna didn’t know what she had expected from them at all.

“I’M SO SORRY!” The tiki-masked Hollow shouted again in tears.

“QUIET!” Nel screamed. That child was terrifying, but Danna had suspected as much when they had met.

“…” Danna lay back down, exasperated, and covered her eyes. Nel gasped in horror, and her companions followed suit.

“Wuby, are you okay?” She crawled over to her new friend, distraught.

“Oh, I’m quite fine, y’know?” Danna said weakly, feeling a little twinge after she realized what she’d said. Damn bad habits.

“Oh good, don’ cha’ know!” Dondochokka said gleefully. Danna sighed inwardly before sitting up and looking at Nel.

“Which direction is Las Noches in?” Nel paled, and shook her head, mouth open.

“You can’t go there, you’ll die!” She looked very distraught about it, and Danna shifted uncomfortably.

“I don’t think I’ll die—Wait a second, ohmygod!” She grabbed Nel’s sack shirt by the front and yanked her over. “Where’s Ichigo?!” Nel’s eyes watered and her lower lip wobbled.

“We couldn’t find Itsugo,” she said in a small voice. Danna’s heart sunk; she couldn’t do this alone, and she didn’t want her partner to be dead for so many reasons. The fact that she couldn’t feel Ichigo’s almost omnipresent reiatsu anymore was worrisome.

“Shit,” she cursed, and then looked guiltily at Nel. “Sorry,” she muttered and let go of the girl’s shirt. Nel cocked her head.

“Sorry? For what?” She asked innocently. That’s convenient, Danna thought with relief.

“Nothing, nothing…” But what was she supposed to do without any extra help? The task was looking impossible, but she stood and readied herself anyway. If Ichigo is dead, so am I… Uryuu, find a way to get your ass here, if only for Orihime.

“What’choo thinkin’ about Wuby?” Nel asked, looking up innocently at Danna. The Vaizard’s expression became cross.

“Are you sure you can’t just call me Danna?” She asked with a hint of exasperation.

“No! …I mean, yes! I like Wuby!” Nel cried. This is going to be an adventure and a half…

“Yes! I quite like the name Wuby myself,” Pesche added, fist bravely over his heart. His little mandibles clicked, and Danna suppressed a shudder.

“All right…Wuby it is,” she sighed. “Now, Las Noches?” She asked, hoping the little girl wouldn’t forget her request again. Now Nel shook her head in exasperation.

“I got it coveeered, jus’ hold on a minute!” She trotted out to the front of their cave, put two fingers in her mouth and whistled loud. The ground outside began to rumble ominously.

Chad walked up silently behind Uryuu and spoke.

“I think I already knew.”

“Gah!” Chad’s deep voice shocked Ishida out of his reverie, and he whirled around, glasses knocked a bit askew. “Oh, Sado, ah, sorry, what?” He asked while adjusting his eyewear, trying to recoup some of his lost dignity.

“About Ichigo being part Hollow,” he rumbled.

“How? No offense, but I don’t think you can see reiraku, and Ichigo’s has stayed red the entire time he’s been like this,” Ishida said carefully. Sado shook his head.

“No, you can see it in myself and Orihime,” the gentle giant explained. “Orihime is the light. She did well in Soul Society.” Ishida stared. He thought he saw where this was going, and it made enough sense to make him angry with himself. “I am the dark part. Our powers surfaced because of Ichigo…” Chad paused. Uryuu watched him, awaiting his words for the next detail, and the man shifted while under scrutiny. “And when the gate to Hueco Mundo opened, I felt it call to me.” Ishida nodded, looking off somewhere while he thought,

Of course. It’s obvious looking back. Sado’s power has latent Hollow characteristics. Then signs of this monster in Ichigo, his capacity to nurture such a thing was…

“…Was something like this in him even before Urahara?” He suddenly asked, looking back at Chad. He nodded just barely. Uryuu let off a string of particularly harsh curses, which earned him an uncharacteristic widening of the eyes and small smirk from Chad. “I still don’t know a thing! This could mean Urahara… Why can’t that god-be-damned man tell us things instead of making us figure them out? Would it be so bad if we knew what was going on for once? It’s not our fault we aren’t used to looking at the bigger picture, he could give us a…a hint. And this doesn’t even implicate him any less!” The Quincy continued to rant, and Chad’s surprise faded to simple raised the eyebrows. Eventually, Uryuu talked himself out, and sat down in the dirt.

“Thanks for listening,” he mumbled. Sado nodded stoically, and they waited.

Renji’s hands settled softly on Rukia’s shoulders, and she didn’t feel inclined to move them. They were separate from the others; they were a different kind of friend to Ichigo. They were Shinigami, and Ishida’s damning accusations stuck. Like always.

“I should have stopped trusting Urahara entirely after what he did to me,” Rukia whispered. “But even then, I couldn’t imagine that…”

“Maybe Ishida is wrong,” Renji offered. Rukia shot him a piercing glare, and he responded with a sheepish half-grin. “Not easy to find a bright side here, cut me some slack,” he asked, cajoling.

“…I wish he were wrong. But it all adds up, doesn’t it? Urahara was the one who helped restore his powers… It would have been… so easy to make something else happen at the same time. And there’s been a dark part of Ichigo for a long time, something that wasn’t there in the beginning,” she finished, still speaking softly.

“But…” Renji released his hold and moved to stand in front of her. “There would have been signs, right? If Ichigo was really part Hollow, we would have been able to sense something, things would have happened,” Abarai said confidently. Rukia looked up at him hesitantly, before looking back down at the ground. Renji’s face fell.

“There were signs,” she said softly. “We didn’t put them together. Oh Renji, we did this to him.” She looked up, sad and angry, at her longtime friend. “Soul Society chewed him up and spat him back out… We ruined him. We ruined him and Orihime, and that girl, we ruin everyone…” She couldn’t help the tears that seemed to boil up from nowhere. No, no, Kuchikis don’t cry, we don’t cry. “It was us,” she said and looked away.

“Rukia! He wanted… He wanted to be a part of this, even when we didn’t want him to! Not… always, but then… You’ve seen him, you know, this has to be what he was born to do! How else could he be so great? Soul Society still doesn’t even get it, but we do!”

Rukia still looked down at the ground, tears dripping quietly, but she nodded slightly. “He was born to be great. He wouldn’t want you feeling sorry for him. He’d probably be pissed, right?” Renji asked her with a grin. She finally looked up and gave him something of a smirk.

“He’d smack me over the head. And then I’d do the same ten times harder,” she said, smirk growing.

“So instead of feeling sorry for him, let’s just figure out how the hell to get him out of there, and then how to help him with his Hollow.” Renji said solidly. Rukia made a face.

“If that problem can be helped…” She muttered.

“Rukia!” He said with a scowl.

“Sorry! Sorry…” She looked forlornly over at Ishida and Chad, then at Urahara in the distance.

“It’ll be okay,” Renji said, not sounding entirely sure, but she appreciated the sentiment nonetheless. Then he bent down slightly and kissed her forehead. Silently, her breath flew away. A wonderful and terrible feeling bloomed; she wished it didn’t respond so quickly all of the damn time. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she told him with a smile.

“Let’s wait in the Shoten until Urahara is ready,” he offered, and Rukia nodded.

The basements of Las Noches kept some of its greatest secrets. Labs belonging to Aporro Grantz and Lord Aizen himself, locked rooms that belonged to the other leaders of the Espada, mazes, terrible prisons.

The kitchens and the laundry.

One of the castle’s greatest qualities was not it’s size but the unnoticed staff that toiled within, bringing instant service to Las Noches’ many short-fused inhabitants.

In the room that housed the giant cleaning boilers, Vey finished hanging the uniforms assigned to her and carefully folded them over the side of her large wheeled hamper. Slowly, hindered by the rugged scars stretched across her spine and legs, she pushed the cart down the hallways. At every room she would stop to collect dirty clothes, and hang up or put away the clean uniforms she had brought with her.

No one bothered her, past the occasional sneer. That, at least, left her ignored and able to do her job.

The day stretched on in its routine; exhausting and boring. Walk, fold, hang, throw, repeat. The monotony of the work left Sondegaard with nothing to distract her. Scar tissue stretched and rubbed against tendon and bone, tissue that would never become pliable enough to let her go through her day pain-free. But I’m alive. It has to be enough. If bitter resolve were to be her last weapon, then she’d wield it well.

After countless dirty rooms, the woman was in a bad mood. No one is more messy and entitled than us…she thought with resignation. In a particularly devastated room, Vey slammed open two closet doors and pushed aside the already hung clothes to make room for her delivery. As she reached for the clothes, she saw a dirty pile in the corner of the closet and sneered. A body. Another body.

“Can’t they even take out their own corpses anymore?” Vey growled in frustration and grabbed the body’s sleeve to drag it out.

When his eyes opened, Vey squeaked. When their eyes met, she screamed.

She screamed. When his silver eye met her blue, Nieronaut Asterlindt was inside the memories of Vey Sondegaard.

Nieronaut was hunger. Greedy, blind hunger was all that filled their Hollow’s mind. And then they were born. Aizen-sama took her from unknowing need and sated her by making her an Arrancar. She wasn’t strong but didn’t care; I’m beautiful. Green hair, blue eyes, and a hollow mask like a circlet on her head. Let them stare.

He felt Vey’s new thankful nature, almost as strong as the hunger had been. They did anything and everything, every day; all of it sped up a thousand times while revealing every detail. The wrenching moments of humanity when they felt the force of emotions no one had told them existed, the easily obtained and unrestrained happiness, how quickly it soured… and it got them into trouble. Terrible trouble.

She had baited the fifth Espada. Snapped without thinking or knowing whom she was speaking to. They felt his hot, horrible stare, taking them in, in entirety. The gaze settled on her green hair, and they saw something snap. Immediately, Vey spun on her toes and tried to sprint. No time passed between that first step and the horrible burn that flashed across her back and sent her sprawling to the ground.

Then the black-haired monster was there, cutting at their body, clawing with nails across her arms and face, smashing her head against the floor. Screaming and breaking bones because she was a horrible, righteous bitch who deserved it all. Everything he did to her there, inside and out, she deserved. He reminded her.

“Never look at me with those eyes like that again.”

She never looked at anyone with eyes like that anymore. She considered herself lucky to still have her eyes at all.

That scene was over almost as quickly as it started. Then there was dragging herself away, disappearing and finding no one willing to follow the trail of blood. So many months she recovered, they lived it. They didn’t remember Vey’s face anymore, before or after. No more mirrors, no more looking people in the eye, just bitter living.

Nieronaut felt the rage still there, fresh and waiting for the right moment, in a wounded girl he’d never expected to look in the eye.

When Vey was released from his vision, she groaned and let herself slide down to the ground, body convulsing with held back sobs. Niero shivered behind the dropped clothes. He had hoped the mind he found next would help him forget everything he had lived inside Szayel; instead he’d resurrected memories in the woman that were better off dead. He inched forward on his knees, tired and eyes pricking.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, touching her partially broken mask ever so carefully. She wouldn’t look at him, but her weak, pale hand grasped at his. They couldn’t help what they shared now.

As he walked down the looming hallway, Grimmjow was flanked on each side by an Espada. To his left, Yammi. To his right, Ulquiorra. He knew why it was those two. Always those two, and he hated it. He hated the ball of fear and revulsion that dropped into his gut whenever he saw the giant. Grimmjow's hackles were up the entire trip; both of his guardians refused to say why he was being taken and to where, only that he was required to attend. To say the least, it rubbed raw on the Sexte Espada's temper.

"Grimmjow," Ulquiorra stated calmly, "Lower your reiatsu immediately, or it will jeopardize our... excursion." Grimm bridled and was about to open his mouth before both Espada shot him a dangerous look. Painfully, Grimmjow swallowed his words. Damn them to hell. He gradually eased down on his spirit power. The blue-haired man was becoming more irritated with every step, and was about to say so when they finally stopped in front of a door with no identifying characteristics. Just some random room...The fuck. Then horror rose in his throat. They won't. They can't do it again.

"Don't do anything stupid," Yammi warned, and stepped behind Grimmjow.

"Like kicking your ass?" He snarled in return.

"This is a boon from Aizen-sama. Do not take it lightly," Ulquiorra told him with a cold, sidelong glance. Grimmjow simply sneered, and then the green-eyed Arrancar opened the door and stepped inside. Grimm followed, and behind Yammi, the door closed.

"So I don't get it," the Sexte Espada scowled as he scanned the room, and then his heart seemed to stop. Unruly hair, angry brows and sullen stance. No. He stepped aside to face the other Espada. "What the fuck is this?! Some joke from Aizen?! It's not fucking funny, and I'm not going to fall for some half-assed illusion. You've got another fucking thing coming if you think I'd accept something so stupid--" Ichigo stared at him, confused, angry and maybe happy, all at once. Oh god it hurts. How unfair of Aizen to use his Zanpakutou against one of his own Espada, especially someone so...

"...It's me, goddamnit! I'm no damn illusion!" Kurosaki snarled. Grimmjow turned to stare. No. He has to be fake. But everything was right, from wild red locks to fiery brown eyes down to his very posture. But he was wrong, dressed all in white with some collar around his neck.

"Why don't I feel any spirit power then?" He growled low, and turned back to Ulquiorra.

"His powers have been bound...so that he causes less trouble. I assure you, this is the real Kurosaki Ichigo," he replied without emotion. Inside Grimmjow's mind he retched, he screamed. No, no, no. They touched him. What do I do? They've stolen and fouled something sacred. I'll ruin them. Took his power? It was the most beautiful, natural thing about Kurosaki.

"...YOU SONS OF BITCHES!" He yelled and unsheathed his sword. "I'll kill you for fucking touching--" Yammi had the Sexte Espada's left arm twisted behind his back, and Ulquiorra's hand held Grimmjow's sword wrist in a vice grip. He yelled in rage. "What makes you think you had the right to touch him?! I'll fucking kill all of you, ALL OF YOU! HE'S MINE!" He struggled with the two Espada, but it wasn't long before he was pinned to the ground. He was angry. He was so furious and torn apart he didn't know what to do with himself. His reiatsu was shooting through the roof, but it did nothing to get Yammi and Ulquiorra away from him.

But it did force Ichigo to the floor, making him gasp for breath.

"HOW DARE YOU BRING HIM HERE YOU PIGS! You're NOTHING!" He let out another wordless cry of rage.

"If you do not calm down, you will hurt what you are so foolishly desperate about and find yourself barred from visiting him, do I make myself clear?" Ulquiorra said forcefully, pressing down on the back of Grimmjow's neck. Grimmjow roared.

Ichigo yelled.

Grimmjow’s head snapped up to look at the redhead, on his knees and panting, eyes unseeing.

“Ichigo?!” The air was becoming heavy and smothering. It’s not us, but it doesn’t feel like Ichigo either…Ulquiorra released Grimmjow to look at the captive. Yammi stomped over to the teen and tried to pick him up by the arm, but let go as if burned.

“Shit! Little prick is--”

The pain in Ichigo’s head was pounding and resonating through his whole body. He was on fire, needles and pins. It felt good, right, but it was overwhelming. It was worse than any press of reiatsu by Aizen or the Espada. He felt the pressure inside and out, and something had to burst.

And something did.

With a pop, the pressure within dropped and the pain lessened. Ichigo slumped to the floor, breathing heavily, but relieved the short ordeal was over. He hadn’t even realized he couldn’t hear until words gradually became audible.

“Fuck! What the fuck did you do to him?” Grimmjow bit something out of his hand and spat it back down the floor. It was a white chip—The Sexte Espada had another embedded in his face, and the Cuatro had several. He removed them with absolute calm, and collected the fragments in his palm.

“I did nothing,” Ulquiorra replied in as much of a snap as he was capable.

“…” Ichigo eased himself back to his feet, away from the giant Espada next to him. “What the hell happened?” he asked with a scowl.

“You were the next person I was gonna ask,” Grimmjow replied with the self-same scowl, and pointed at Ichigo’s leg. One of the bone-white cuffs had shattered. …No wonder... Some of his reiatsu was available again; not enough to do any good, but enough to let him feel alive again.

Yammi and Ulquiorra’s gaze met, and the latter nodded minutely. Both Espada moved towards the door.

“Grimmjow,” Yammi growled. The blue-haired Espada was still watching Ichigo like a hawk.

“Go fuck yourself,” Grimm replied without looking away. The staring was bordering on uncomfortable now. Yammi took a step towards Grimmjow, but a slight shake of the head from Ulquiorra stopped him.

“Ten minutes. You’re being watched,” he said flatly. Yammi sneered, but exited the room. Ulquiorra’s cold stare focused on Ichigo for a moment and he could barely repress his shudder. Then the door closed behind the Cuatro Espada, and Ichigo and Grimmjow were alone.

(AN: Sorry about another cliffhanger.)

COMMUNITY DISCLAIMER: All characters depicted in sexual situations in this fanfiction (including material in the comments) are fictional and are intended to be and considered to be by the author of said material of the legal age of consent in the United States state of California, regardless of what age these characters may be in the material they are derived from.

Angry at the World - Chapter 24 - Curiouser and Curiouser

Tue, 14 Apr 2009 18:04:20 GMT

Title: Angry at the World
Pairing: Grimmjow x Ichigo
Rating: R (NC-17 overall)
Disclaimer: I don't own the ideas or characters from Bleach, don't make any money from the story and intend no legal trespass. Etc.

Again, sorry for the delay, I hope you enjoy. Special thanks to tangerine_haze for being an excellent beta. Please read the correction for ch. 23 first.

Chapter 24 - Curiouser and Curiouser

Half-bitten, naturally sharp nails dug into the unfortunate spying Arrancar’s neck through his starched white collar.

“Please, please Grimmjow-sama, please don’t kill me, I was just following orders, please--” The Sixth Espada regarded his capture in slight disgust. When he had planned on scouting which bastards were in charge of his surveillance, he simply hadn’t expected it to be so easy. It was a bit of a killjoy.

“Less begging, more snitching,” Grimmjow informed him, voice hot and caustic. The Arrancar swallowed hard and stared at Grimmjow wide-eyed, frozen like a rabbit. The Espada rolled his eyes and shook him again. “How many others are watching me and which Espada?” He demanded.

“Ah, ah, uhm, lots of lower-level Arrancar are just s-supposed to report on if they see what you’re doing, and, uh, some are scheduled to follow you like me, and uh, uh…” Grimmjow smiled dangerously in encouragement.

“Don’t lose strength now, you just got going,” he offered smoothly. He thought he heard a whimper.

“The… The operation is under Zommari-sama,” he whispered.

No way. That has to be a mistake. Szayel, Ulquiorra, the fucking old man, anybody but the guy with the fucking eyes.

“…Are you sure about that?” Grimmjow asked far too gently.

“Y-yes,” the informant stammered. Grimmjow’s good mood snapped and his lips curled up in a snarl. “You can’t blame me for that!” The Arrancar tried to shout with a cracking voice. How pathetic. He ought to claw the useless minion into pieces. Slowly.

“Shut up!” His blue eyes flashed with a spark of rage, and the spy stilled. “…” Grimmjow looked him up and down, and felt an unexpected, tiny pang of pity for the lackey. Now what the hell is that doing there?

He forced the feeling aside; the unlucky Arrancar didn’t even notice the cero behind his head before it blew him away. Nobody can say Kurosaki’s made me soft.

“I’m afraid staying here and looking at me angrily won’t make the gate open any more quickly, Ishida-san,” Urahara said in his usual jovial manner, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Ishida pinned him with a sharp glare, and the blonde, be-hatted man turned to make his way upstairs. “As long as this restriction exists, no one from Hueco Mundo can drop in either, so now is a good time to rest,” he offered airily over his shoulder to the Quincy. Ishida bridled, and the look on anyone else’s face would have been a snarl.

“Rest? Rest? Do you think I’m so stupid that I can’t see at least part of what’s going on?” He waited and received no answer. Ishida could no longer stem the flow of questions. “What is it, Urahara? What do you know? What don’t you know?” The Shopkeeper wasn’t looking at him. Ishida reached under his collar and pulled out the mask he’d taken from Ichigo. “ Can you guess where I found this?” He demanded and threw the Hollow mask to the ground. Did you know this happened last night?” Urahara slowly turned to see; Ishida’s smile turned triumphantly cruel.

“How long? How long did you hide it from us, from Kurosaki himself?” He jeered. He hadn’t thought, hadn’t wanted to think, that any Shinigami would help someone be engulfed by the Hollows. But how could he ignore the picture being painted before him? Yet it isn’t really unlike him at all.

“So what is he? What monster have you hidden from us? What is Danna stuck there with?!” Ishida knew the others watched—knew Renji’s face was the picture of horror, Rukia’s painfully accepting, even Chad’s mouth slightly agape. He knew none of them could see the ever so slight twitch to the blond man’s expression. Rage simmered under his voice, terrible and contained. He wasn’t sure which parts of him were angry for Kurosaki, which for Danna, and which just hated the liar standing in front of him.

“I’m not certain it’s my secret to tell,” Urahara Kisuke said calmly. Ishida stared. Then the fire filled his gaze.

“That’s all you have to say?!”

“I can’t explain all of the events you ascribe to me, Ishida-san. I can only say that I’m trying to do what’s best,” he replied evenly. Uryuu studied his eyes, but he couldn’t find any hint as to what the blond man felt or even what he really thought.

“Ah, what’s best—what’s best for yourself, or maybe the Shinigami? Certainly not us. Not any of us, not even the least of us,” he finished bitterly. Slowly, Urahara’s eyes lost their spark.

“I’m quite certain you won’t like what you would hear, Ishida-san. But you insist…and perhaps it isn’t wise to keep certain secrets any longer,” he admitted slowly.

Ishida thought for a moment he saw something terrible in Urahara Kisuke’s eyes—resigned sadness. But for what? I don’t even know if that’s real. I don’t know if it’s to make me trust him again, to convince me he has a soul.

“Kurosaki-san is something…quite unique. But he isn’t alone in what he is,” Urahara began thoughtfully. His gaze remained pinned on Ishida, growing colder and colder. The Quincy’s chest began to fill with dread. “A Vaizard. A combination of Shinigami and Hollow, a being of unfortunately extraordinary power.” Uryuu’s head buzzed. What are the implications of… “They have learned to control their inner Hollow and extort its power. Once Shinigami, they are now something…quite different indeed.” There were a thousand different directions Uryuu's mind could go, but he chose only one.

“Then that certain reiatsu…screened… Danna,” Ishida’s mouth went dry.

“Also a Vaizard.” Urahara’s voice was like a death sentence. Bastardized monsters, perversions of the Shinigami’s very purpose. A friend, a girl he loved. Ishida was unable to hide his shock from man in front of him.

This is too cruel. What a clever bastard you are. I wonder if that cleverness is going to be the reason I die.

Danna Ruby groaned. The pounding pain in her skull was what she woke to, and sticky blood wetting the back of her head. She tried to shift her body carefully, but still her head answered with a particularly painful throb, that drew out another groan

“Ruuuby?” Someone said quietly. Ruby blinked slowly; the little girl? Bracing against the pain, she turned her head to look. “I brought help,” Nel whispered too loud. Another throb.

“Oh, help?” The Vaizard asked in a whisper, eyes closed now. “Good, good…”she murmured. There was silence briefly, before her young companion took charge.

“Pick her up!” Nel commanded.

“We’re goin’, don’ cha’ know?!” the strange, tiki-masked Hollow shouted. His ant-masked fellow merely clicked his pincers and knelt to help pick up the woman. Nel and her help carried Ruby back to their home, or as much of one as they had. It was a lucky over-hang of rock with just enough of a cave carved in for two almost-rooms and a low spring of fresh water. To Nel, Pesche Gatiche and Dondochokka, it was downright luxurious, if not a little obvious.

There just weren’t many formations of big rock just sticking out of the sands, and living in an eyesore meant lots of fleeing on a moments notice.

But it seemed that trouble was away for the moment, and Nel and her strange brothers washed and bandaged the wound on her head.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to wrap it around her whole head, Nel,” Pesche offered as the little girl began wrapping bandage around Danna’s nose. Nel wrinkled her nose in distaste, but unwrapped all the way up to her eyes.

“There, is that better?” She asked him imperiously.

“I think you did a good job, don’cha’ know,” Dondochokka offered. Pesche Gatiche looked to be thinking hard for a moment.

“…Nel, I don’t think you should tell her you used your special healing spit,” he said, holding his hands up as if it were the obvious answer; or as if he had no idea as to what her answer would be. Nel thought, eyes looking off into the distance for a moment.

“I guess you’re right,” she said. “Let’s keep it secret. People’re always touchy about that…” Nel twisted her mouth to the side in distaste, wishing there was more appreciation for her abilities.

“Downright ungrateful, don’cha’ know?” The three sat around Danna in a circle, waiting nervously for their new friend to wake.

“Something unexpected happened,” Lord Aizen stated calmly to his subordinates, inviting them to explain. A rare bit of tooth showed in Gin’s smile as he stood confidently next to his master’s throne.

Ulquiorra and Szayel stood together in front of their leaders, but they hardly seemed a team. The Cuatro Espada’s eyes didn’t even look at the Octavo Espada as he began his report.

“Aizen-sama, when the prisoner arrived I placed the reiatsu blocks that you requested. However, it seems that there were previously placed barriers on Kurosaki’s power. Very old, powerful barriers.” He stated. When there was no reaction but watching from Gin and Aizen, Szayel bridled and then fought the feeling down. The pink-haired man knew he didn’t have the power to enforce his pride here. “A certain amount of power was trapped between my own blocks and one of the older kind, and it bounced between the two, growing stronger. It bore similarity to an earthquake and the resulting waves, Aizen-sama.”

“Or perhaps like the tides?” Gin asked liltingly. “How peculiar, Aizen-sama.” Grantz tried to keep his fury from coloring his face. He hated that fox’s smirk and his demeaning tone; Szayel wanted to snap and ask just what he was implying. Aizen concealed his mouth behind his hand for a moment, before moving it to speak.

“Keep a close eye on our guest, both of you.” Stuck with the green plague again, Szayel thought with disgust.

“And if sleep is not enough to stop the problem next time, Aizen-sama?” Ulquiorra asked in a clipped voice.

“If you should fail to control the prisoner, bring him outside of Las Noches immediately and gather the Espada,” he said and fixed each of them with a lengthy stare, making it clear that the punishment for failure would be unpleasant.

“Dismissed,” Gin quipped with smile. Szayel waited to sneer until his back was turned.

Ichigo entered slowly into wakefulness. I don’t wanna get up, he thought listlessly. Like every other morning, he resisted waking, grabbing his blankets, curling up and shoving his head into his pillows. But he noticed it all sounded different—he sat straight up and looked down at himself. While he was asleep, someone had dressed him in stiff, starched white clothing with black piping.

“…Fucking people always getting me naked without my goddamn permission,” he muttered darkly. Ichigo slid out of his bed to look more closely. In white Las Noches style, a tall standing collar opened to display the real, power-restricting collar he wore underneath. The long jacket didn’t pull together until partway down his chest, a cut he hadn’t liked before and certainly wouldn’t learn to like during his incarceration. At least the pants were loose, and the sandals were similar to the ones he wore as a Shinigami. That didn’t make him much less pissed about being forced to conform, but there were no alternatives; he couldn’t see his Shinigami clothes anywhere.

…But I’m not a Shinigami anymore. I’m nothing. He let himself fall back onto the bed heavily. No power, no Zangetsu…No Hollow. …If someone’d offered this as a cure to that problem, I woulda said no. I can’t bear this, I feel… nothing… His face an unusual picture of pain, he touched his hand to his chest, trying to feel for some trace of himself. But still no power, just an empty vessel. . . . He had never imagined he would miss his Hollow’s taunting voice.

Three steady knocks on the door interrupted his reverie. In a hurry he was up and standing away from the bed, looking arrogant rather than pained.

“Come in,” Ichigo declared. He knew no matter what the guest was going to enter, so he might as assume some power over the situation.

He hadn’t expected Aizen himself to walk in, with his entirely calm and royal demeanor. Ichigo braced himself for the rain of pressure he expected from the master of Las Noches’ and his reiatsu, but it never came. Maybe, the redhead thought cautiously, this isn’t going to be entirely about intimidation.

Aizen smiled.

“Kurosaki Ichigo, it is a pleasure to meet you…again,” he said with a glint in his sharp brown eyes, and bowed his body ever so slightly. Suspicion rang through every nerve in the Vaizard’s body, and he jerked his chin up in an aberration of a greeting.

The taller man chuckled deep in his chest. “How could I forget your manners? Why don’t you sit down,” Aizen offered with a sweep of his arm towards the soft gray couch against the wall, bracketed by a pair of tall-backed chairs.

“I’d rather stand,” Ichigo said in a clipped voice. Aizen nodded, and graciously took a seat in the closest chair. Why did Ichigo suddenly feel that he was the one who had been slighted? He scowled. “What are you here for? Where and how is Inoue? Why did you kidnap me instead of giving me a fair fight?!” Kurosaki demanded. The former Captain met his eyes levelly, giving the outburst more gravity than it needed. Shaming Ichigo. It was hard to keep red from his cheeks. Bastard.

“Inoue Orihime is fine. As well provided for as you are,” he said with a nod to the Shinigami’s accommodations. “Though you have the larger window.” Fury flushed to Ichigo’s face at the mockery, but he held back his temper.

“My other questions,” he said.

“We put you to sleep, Kurosaki-san, because we have no wish to hurt you,” Ichigo snorted, and Aizen smiled ever so slightly. “It’s true. We wish to extend to you an olive branch; we felt we could not do so unless the option of violence was temporarily unavailable to you. As it is, you are here in Hueco Mundo, in our care, indefinitely.”

“Indefinitely?” Ichigo asked, mouth suddenly dry.

“Indefinitely,” Aizen repeated again, as if to drive home, again, that Ichigo was an idiot. “And unless we can trust you, your powers will be just as indefinitely unavailable to you.”

“You can take your olive branch and shove it up your ass,” the teen said brazenly. To try and earn his trust would be a fool’s errand. Aizen’s expression didn’t flicker.

“You certainly are an unknown,” Aizen responded levelly. Ichigo’s temper finally blazed past his reigns.

“Get the hell out, dammit!” Aizen’s gaze sharpened harshly, and the feeling was like a phantom stab to the chest. Ichigo gasped and stumbled, then went down to one knee. It felt like a heart attack caused by a steak knife, and he could barely move. The master of Las Noches stood above him.

“I disdain my temper, Kurosaki-san. It escapes me sometimes.” The pressure on Ichigo’s heart disappeared, but much of the pain remained. Aizen Sosuke took a few steps away, towards the door. “By way of apology, I’ll tell you this. Jeagerjacques did not trick you here of his own volition; it was my orders to have you distracted while we captured Inoue Orihime. Using your…relationship…was painfully easy.” Ichigo’s pulse thudded painfully.

“Wait,” he asked almost desperately, but Aizen walked out the door.

COMMUNITY DISCLAIMER: All characters depicted in sexual situations in this fanfiction (including material in the comments) are fictional and are intended to be and considered to be by the author of said material of the legal age of consent in the United States state of California, regardless of what age these characters may be in the material they are derived from.

Angry at the World - Chapter 23 Major Edit

Tue, 14 Apr 2009 17:40:43 GMT

Alright. If you haven't read chapter 23, you'd best skip right past this post. If you have read it, there is one scene that is all kinds of wrong that I've fixed. Because I don't want you to read through the entire thing again--unless you want to-- I've posted the new scene and the reasons for it under this handy-dandy cut.

Twice in chapter 23, Urahara says the word Vaizard twice without anyone so much as batting an eyelash. Problem is, no one knows what that is, or even knows about Ichigo's Hollow problem except, to a degree, Rukia. The scene in question is right before they leave to rescue Orihime from Hueco Mundo.

~

She waited for Uryuu in the Shoten basement. There had to be a reckoning, and it had to be tragically quick. The others filtered past her eyes unseen to where the gate to Hueco Mundo would open, until Quincy and Vaizard were alone.

“What are you?” Ishida asked without faltering. Her smile disappeared.

“Is that all you were worried about Ishida-san? Well I could have told you the answers!” Urahara answered brightly, arms suddenly around their shoulders, drawing them uncomfortably close together. “She can handle herself just fine, she—“ Danna slapped her hand over the shopkeeper’s mouth with irritation.

“This is a private conversation and I will be the one to tell that story,” she said forcefully. “Why do you have to come out of nowhere like that!?” Kisuke’s eyes sparkled dangerously before he gently removed her hand.

“I’m afraid there’s no time; I’ll need you both over at the gate immediately if you plan on attending,” he said sweetly. He pushed them both in the right direction until they began walking on their own. Urahara took quick hop steps ahead of them, and Danna shook her head.

“I don’t think I should trust that man,” Danna muttered with arms crossed as she watched him go.

“I can’t believe you ever did,” Ishida told her, one eyebrow raised.

“What? He’s a nice man…” She trailed off.

“He is the least trustworthy person I know,” Uryuu said in a flat tone.

The pair silently joined the waiting rescue party.

“…Danna?” Rukia took a step towards her just as the ground began to vibrate and a high-pitched whine filled the air. Small rocks began to dance and skitter. “That sound… is making me sick,” Rukia paled and put her hands over her mouth after feeling her stomach lurch. Renji reached out quickly to steady her.

The cacophony and violent movement increased until with one palpable boom the black gate to Hueco Mundo ripped into existence in front of them. Danna could feel the spirit power of another world brush against her face. Ichigo didn’t hesitate, and stepped in.

“Wait!” It was Urahara shouting. “WAIT!” But…don’t trust him. Right. Danna ran after her fellow Vaizard onto the spirit road, and it closed behind them.

“Why isn’t Soul Society involved in this!?” Ishida demanded.

“I thought that their absence was the condition of your involvement, Ishida-san--”

“Don’t patronize me! Are they even in Hueco Mundo!?”

“Yes,” Kisuke replied calmly.

“Why?” The Quincy persisted.

“It was a trap.”

“A trap. That you didn’t check for, didn’t sense until it was too late?” He hissed. “What plot is this?”

“The gate was screened for a certain kind of reiatsu” Ishida’s jaw clenched. His right hand toyed with the charm that would activate his bow. “I did detect it, however too late…” You—you foul strategist. You disgust me.

“What the hell does that mean?! What could Kurosaki and Danna possibly have in common?” It was a terrible feeling, being irrational. He felt it, acknowledged it, and was completely unable to change it. The worst part was that everyone else knew what was running through his head, and was responding accordingly. Distantly. Scared just because Ishida Uryuu was acting a bit different. He spun away from their gazes, Rukia, Renji, Urahara, Chad. Stop staring. You’re all just as worried. Why don’t you do something instead of looking at me?

~

Writer's Block: Get Real

Fri, 10 Apr 2009 17:52:41 GMT

What reality show would you most want to be a contestant on? What would your strategy for winning be?

View 500 Answers

American Idol. I can't sing, but maybe I could be an advisor. I would grab those idjits by the shoulders and shake them, "why do you choose such shitty songs that don't win you any votes?!"

Seriously. Half of them are disqualified from being quality artists because they wouldn't know a good song if it punched them in the ear and gave them a $100.

Angry at the World - Oops

Mon, 06 Apr 2009 03:26:00 GMT

So I made some errors in chapter 23 that may or may not require a rewrite of both chapters 23 and 24. I know this sucks, as it is another delay, but it's better that the problem has been caught now instead of further down the road. I don't want to explain quite what it is until I know what I want to do about it.

I won't take ch. 23 down, just know that it may change.

(A good deal of 25 is written, if that makes anybody feel better...)

Sorry, my bad.

Are You Covered in Case of Robot Attack?

Wed, 01 Apr 2009 19:13:25 GMT

I have had an incessant urge to create today. It is not completely a good thing, especially when by yourself. When I'm in this mood, I need to talk. A unique pressure to talk. I've even taken apart one of my shirts and am attempting to tailor it. ...I wonder how that's gonna go.

What's with this new Gmail CADIE thing? It detects how you write and then writes a response for you? "It's just like you, only automated."

...Just like me, only automated?

THE ROBOTS ARE COMING TO REPLACE US!

PROTECT YOURSELF!

Writer's Block: Previously on My Journal

Fri, 27 Mar 2009 21:52:28 GMT

If a friend started reading your journal today, what would you need to fill them in on so they could understand what you're writing about?

View 503 Answers

Ahahaha, hahaha.

Everything about Bleach.

Also, my little/everyone here knows secret. Well, two of my friends know. And they think it's pretty cool, so I guess I'm okay. :)

Writer's Block: Sounds Good to Me

Mon, 16 Feb 2009 03:40:49 GMT

Persnickety, flibbertigibbet, lollygag—some words are just more fun to say. What's your favorite word?

View 502 Answers

Twitterpated fussbudget.

Angry at the World - Chapter 23 - Gifte

Wed, 11 Feb 2009 19:30:24 GMT

Chapter 22 - Reaping

Chapter 21 - With Cruel Speed

Special thanks to autumnpoppy and berrylolita for help with this chapter.

Chapter 23 – Gifte

Grimmjow sauntered casually out of his room, but didn’t walk far. After a few feet he rested his back against the wall, and promptly did nothing at all.

Long minutes passed. Two scowling female Arrancar walked down the hall eventually; they moved to the other side of the hall after seeing him and gave him dirty looks as they passed. Grimmjow leered but remained silent.

More long minutes, and an uncomfortable looking male Arrancar walked past, trying to do nothing but glance at the violently blue man. The Sexta Espada watched with a relaxed smirk and carefully lidded eyes, but still said nothing.

She waited for Uryuu in the Shoten basement. There had to be a reckoning, and it had to be tragically quick. The others filtered past her eyes unseen to where the gate to Hueco Mundo would open, until Quincy and Vaizard were alone.

“What are you?” Ishida asked without faltering. Her smile disappeared.

“I don’t think I should trust that man,” Danna muttered with arms crossed as she watched him go.

“I can’t believe you ever did,” Ishida told her, one eyebrow raised.

“What? He’s a nice man…” She trailed off.

“He is the least trustworthy person I know,” Uryuu said in a flat tone.

The pair silently joined the waiting rescue party.

“Wait!” It was Urahara shouting. “WAIT!” But…don’t trust him. Right. Danna ran after her fellow Vaizard onto the spirit road, and it closed behind them.

“Why isn’t Soul Society involved in this!?” Ishida demanded.

“I thought that their absence was the condition of your involvement, Ishida-san--”

“Don’t patronize me! Are they even in Hueco Mundo!?”

“Yes,” Kisuke replied calmly.

“Why?” The Quincy persisted.

“It was a trap.”

“A trap. That you didn’t check for, didn’t sense until it was too late?” He hissed. “What plot is this?”

“What the hell does that mean?! What could Kurosaki and Danna possibly have in common?” It was a terrible feeling, being irrational. He felt it, acknowledged it, and was completely unable to change it. The worst part was that everyone else knew what was running through his head, and was responding accordingly. Distantly. Scared just because Ishida Uryuu was acting a bit different. He spun away from their gazes, Rukia, Renji, Urahara, Chad. Stop staring. You’re all just as worried. Why don’t you do something instead of looking at me?

The same male Arrancar backtracked down the hall some twenty, maybe thirty minutes later, Grimm wasn’t sure. He flashed the Espada a self-effacing grin and continued walking quickly by, but Grimmjow wasn’t about to let the opening slide.

“Lost?” He asked easily. The underling started.

“Ah, just by one hall, Grimmjow-sama,” he said politely, and kept walking with purpose.

Ichigo and Danna landed in a haphazard pile in the middle of a dim, circular room.

“Ohh, my head,” the girl whispered and clutched at it. Ichigo carefully maneuvered off of his back, mindful of Zangetsu. He scanned the room quickly—one door, one staircase, old furniture, dust.

“Where is this? And where the hell is everyone else?” He demanded while readjusting his clothes. “I’m going to kill Urahara,” the strawberry said with teeth on edge.

“Something obviously went wrong…” Danna sighed and got to her feet, gathering herself. “This place seems old, though. Maybe we’re in luck...”

“INTRUDERS!” Came an alarming cry. “You’re in my house! Get out! Get out get out-”

“Pox rot it, it’s a little girl!” Ichigo whirled around to see a shrieking, green-haired girl with a cute broken skull hat on her head shuffling from the stairwell “I hate little girls,” Danna muttered viciously, and Ichigo didn’t have time to give her more than a questioning look.

“GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT!” The child stomped on the floor after every “out.”

“We’re just passing through! Nothing to worry about!” The redhead tried to reassure her. He wished he could put the girl in a sleeper hold without being a monster.

“OUT OUT OUT!” Stomp stomp stomp. Giving in to aggravation, Danna covered her ears and looked pleadingly at Ichigo.

“You’re the one with little sisters! Fix this!” She begged.

“You can’t fix a temper tantrum!” He hollered back. Well, you could. If you had a soundproof room and a lot of time.

“OUT OUT--” Stomp stomp CRACK. They all froze and the little girl’s eyes became impossibly wide. “Nel didn’t mean to…” Ichigo’s eyes slid down to the floor and watched the crack begin to spread and branch through the stone.

“Oh fuck.” The floor shuddered and broke apart, and the trio fell screaming.

Scream, fall, crash, crunch--they hit another floor and broke through-- scream, fall, crash, crunch, scream fall—fall—Shit, I’ve been falling too long. If the floor were much further away, he’d have a helluva a landing, and he couldn’t see anything past the rubble that was falling with him. With a flourish he’d pulled Zangetsu from his back and broken chunks falling around him. Then he stabbed his reliable sword into the side of the curiously carved hole and came to jolting stop.

The irritable Kurosaki pulled himself to stand upon the hilt of his sword and wait for the remaining debris to pass him by. Ichigo scowled. When he looked above, the air seemed misty and below him it was definitely thicker. He covered his nose with the back of his hand with disgust. And it smells.

“Ichigo!” He heard Danna call. “I’ve got the little girl! Are you alright!?”

“Yeah, I’m fine!” He shouted back. “I’ll be up in a sec!” He adjusted his weight and looked around him. Time to jump out of here. Ichigo pulled Zangetsu from the rock and made his first leap, the second, and the third. He was breathing harder than he should have been. With a quick glance he saw the mist below him gathering and growing denser. Oh shit. It’s gonna be impossible to see through. He jumped faster, but not fast enough. When he breathed in, it almost felt warm, soft.

He slowed his leaps, but it didn’t take long for caution to make him stop and in a rocky groove. Now up and down the mist obscured even two feet away from his spot.

Suddenly the tendrils were roiling and thickening, pressing close against his skin. He didn’t like it. Then his foot slipped and his grip was lost. Can’t move… what is this? Ichigo’s hands dropped from Zangetsu and he was tumbling through the mist and into unconsciousness.

Rocks pummeled Danna’s back, but she held onto her sword—firmly stuck into the wall—with a grim will. Nel was falling, screaming, until the female Vaizard’s hand reached out and snatched her as she passed by the thin sack she was clothed in. Nel answered with a snot-muted wail.

Danna clutched the girl close to her chest, shaking and waiting for safety. When it grew quiet, Danna raised her lightly dusted head and coughed. The coast looks clear.

“Ichigo!” She called down the hole. She couldn’t see if he was safe—the hole was deep. “I’ve got the little girl! Are you alright!?”

“Yeah I’m fine!” Kurosaki’s answer echoed from the dark. “I’ll be up in a sec!” Danna breathed a sigh of relief that she wasn’t going to be in charge of rescuing yet another person. Nel buried herself against her rescuer, now fighting hard to keep her tears at bay. Danna was thankful.

She hitched the girl up to her shoulder, tugged her sword from the rock and leapt to the other side. Three short leaps and the two were on the outer, still solid ring of stone floor at the base of the tower.

“I-I’m sorry…” Nel whispered against Danna’s neck and started rubbing her tears away vigorously. Danna smiled weakly before peering over into the hole.

“You couldn’t have known that would happen…” She murmured. “Though no more screaming,” she added sharply. Nel nodded. “Nel? I’m Danna,” she offered cautiously.

“Danna?” Little Nel contorted her face. “I don’t like it.”

“What?” Danna snapped angrily, and then looked abruptly shamefaced. “…Then how about you call me Ruby,” she offered grudgingly. Nel puckered her lips together, thinking.

“Okay,” the little girl agreed, and sniffed.

They waited, and Danna began to tap her foot lightly against the edge. “Ichigo?” She called more quietly than before. She was getting a bad feeling. Another peer over the edge, and her alarm increased significantly. Something like steam was rising fast, something that stung her nostrils sharply.

Danna whirled and her eyes locked on the first door she saw. She lurched through the frame and slammed the not so solid wood behind her. Nel, still pressed close, squeaked in surprise, and then shrieked as the mist began pouring in through the doors cracks.

“Oh, no.” Whatever the gas was, it was thick and her shoes pressed against the bottom didn’t do a thing to stop it. She felt her sense begin to leave her and her balance fade. She looked into her unlucky partners scared green eyes. “Help, Nel?” Ruby gasped, and toppled. Her head cracked on the floor and her arms went limp.

More and more waiting. But when all of instincts were ready and awakened, his pupils shrunken to slits, it was all just a part of catching the prey. The time was the trap. Just wait.

And when he saw a flash of white down at the hallway junction once more, and caught that whiff of terror, he was rewarded for his patience. With a horrible grin, Grimmjow began to run. Spy. Shitty spy.

“A binding for every extremity helps contain reiatsu more effectively—nowhere to run, if you think about it. The one around his neck will be the securing piece, and will still operate even if the other parts are damaged. Not as well, of course,” the eighth Espada explained.

Ulquiorra’s eyes flicked from detail to detail, studying intensely, observing dispassionately while he listened to Szayel’s explanation. Ichigo still lay in the grip of the mist’s soporific effects, hazy and paralyzed. This was an important prisoner. So important that that his cage had to be much finer made, much more intricate than anything they’d done in the past; a cage that would follow him everywhere. Ichigo’s fingertips twitched. Ulquiorra wouldn’t allow mistakes.

“He’s waking, Szayel” Ulquiorra announced flatly. The two Espada stood next to the unconscious boy, closing bone-smooth shackles around his ankles and wrists as the Shinigami’s eyes struggled open.

“Then I have excellent timing, it seems,” Szayel said smugly. “Allow me,” he offered, and leaned over towards their captive, holding a white stone collar that matched the shackles he already wore. Ichigo’s eyes burned at Szayel, an attempted warning that he wouldn’t be anyone’s pet.

The Espada simply smiled while his hands snaked across the Vaizard’s throat and snapped the collar shut.

“Easy,” Szayel told Ulquiorra. A terrible wail burst past Ichigo’s lips.

The shackles filled with power, and without waiting it stabbed down into his very core.

What have they done? Oh god, what have they done? He felt like something inside him was separating, splitting him apart and dropping the most important parts down into the abyss, piece by piece. Here in the darkened sideways world. Storming, stinging, wet, he pressed against a window. His hand reached under the opening, to the outside. He touched something. He wouldn’t, couldn’t let it go. But the pain hammered on his grip. No, it’s everything I am! Zangetsu! Zangetsu! The pain lessened before coming back with a vengeance. AIBO! He screamed for his last hope and felt his Hollow’s answering shriek in his body, empty rage at discovering a noose too late. NO, NO GODDAMMIT! It tightened and tightening for lengthy, torturous moments until Ichigo had nothing left to fight with. He let out another anguished scream.

His reiatsu was gone. He couldn’t touch it. There was the barest glimmer, enough to keep him alive. His body yearned for it; it was cold, weakened, used to a constant stream of power where now there was a trickle. He felt the phantom tug of power at his muscles, what they should have felt like, and it ached.

“…Take it off,” he whispered. Szayel snorted, pink eyes staring with intense and sickening interest. The pressure from two Espada was more than he could take and his bones felt more brittle every second. “Take it off…” Words formed in his mouth before he could think about them. “What do you want… what… fuck…” Ichigo felt sick, hearing himself opening that first door when they hadn’t even prompted him.

“These restraints are a precaution, Kurosaki Ichigo,” the green-eyed Espada told him without inflection. Ichigo wondered distantly if those empty eyes ever saw anything, or if they only looked. “For now, you need not do anything but enjoy your stay as a guest of Las Noches.” Do nothing?

The tenuous wire of power he had left called out, vibrating like a piano string. Ichigo knew it needed something, but the other two didn’t seem to hear. It tightened, pulling taut and becoming fragile but the call only growing stronger. The resonating tone threatened to break the very air. He inhaled weakly.

“Szayel!” Ulquiorra called sharply, feeling that unearthly tug. Now he knew something was wrong. Ichigo smirked strangely; if I shatter they’ll all shatter.

“I don’t know!” Aporro Grantz admitted and licked his dry lips, staring at the Vaizard in alarm. The light in the room was intensifying. Then Ichigo’s view went dark, his eyes covered by Ulquiorra’s cool white hand. He felt a spell wrapping around him and the chaos, stilling the erratic sound within and soothing the pain of his loss. He could have fought it, or tried.

Instead, he let the Cuatro Espada lead him mercifully down the path to sleep.

Jung Jung Jung Jung Juuung

Wed, 04 Feb 2009 04:50:19 GMT

I was thinking the other day--with a bit of help-- that I am uncommonly precise in my desire for factual, logical and rational outcomes.

INTP describes me quite well, except... This detailed, factual language of meanings and dissertations only exists for me in the literary dimension it seems... Mathematics is a completely unpenetrable fog to me in the pre-calc/calc area. This is probably why I use to score ISTP a lot. What seperates it is my tendency to think first and rely on my senses later despite the fact that my intuition is often more correct as a whole than my meager collection of facts.

Some memorable lines:

"INTPs are relatively easy-going and amenable to almost anything until their principles are violated, about which they may become outspoken and inflexible."

"The open-endedness (from Perceiving) conjoined with the need for competence (NT) is expressed in a sense that one's conclusion may well be met by an equally plausible alternative solution, and that, after all, one may very well have overlooked some critical bit of data. An INTP arguing a point may very well be trying to convince himself as much as his opposition."

"INTPs and Logic -- One of the tipoffs that a person is an INTP is her obsession with logical correctness. Errors are not often due to poor logic -- apparent faux pas in reasoning are usually a result of overlooking details or of incorrect context. "

"In seasons of low energy level, or moments of single-minded concentration, the INTP is aloof and detached in a way that might even offend more relational or extraverted individuals. "

"Intuition unchained gives birth to play. INTPs enjoy games, formal or impromptu, which coax analogies, patterns and theories from the unseen into spontaneous expression in a way that defies their own comprehension. " - This is what writing AaTW is like. A complex game, strategic dance, it's wonderful crafting characters and stories and finding a way to fit them all together. Sometimes I create things without even realizing it.

"Feeling tends to be all or none. When present, the INTP's concern for others is intense, albeit naive."

I took Jungian tests on similarminds.com all the time, again and again and kept getting slightly different answers that always felt almost right, but not quite right. INTP feels like the right fit.

Writer's Block: Table for One

Tue, 03 Feb 2009 18:13:19 GMT

Do you ever go out to dinner (at a sit-down restaurant) by yourself?

View 500 Answers

I answered this one because yes, actually, I do. It started out as a stopover thing during long drives home from college, and a way to get back into reading. I would stop in the same city every time and go to the same bookstore, pick up two (or even three :x ) good looking books, and take my time eating at an actual restaurant instead of a fast food place.

It gave me a break from the road, time to myself and time to enjoy myself, and a slightly healthier diet. (You know, compared to fries and a shake.)

I felt a little weird at first, but waiters/waitresses always seemed very nice and not weird about it. And I tip well to make up for lingering-- how much lingering usually depends on how good the book is, and perhaps whether or not it's busy.

Stars - Imogen

Mon, 02 Feb 2009 20:35:38 GMT

Title: Stars
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Grimmjow x Ichigo
Description: Getting turned on during a fight leads to enjoyable and dangerous circumstances. Guest starring Cirucci Thunderwitch.

Reviews appreciated. Will probably continue at some point. *edit* Edited the ending. ;x

Part I - Madonna
Part II - Divinyl

Part III - Imogen

Cirucci’s room was an exercise in white, gray and purple. It was small, with a large bathroom and closet, and very clean, when there weren’t inconsiderate blue-haired Espada tearing through her dresser and throwing her underthings every which way.

“Grimmjow!” Her voice snarled from the doorway as another outfit went flying. Grimmjow’s head poked out of the drawers.

“Hey Thundertits,” Grimm called out. “You still have trouble naturally lubricating, right?” Cirucci reddened, and he shamelessly dropped more clothes in a heap on the floor. “I need some lube for Kurosaki and I was tryin’ to find your stash. Why the hell ain’t it in your underwear drawer like every other woman ever?” He asked with a scowl, and held up one of her bras, showing her, she guessed, that there was no lube in sight.

“You,” Cirucci said lividly, barely holding back her temper. “You selfish, mangy rotten alley cat! What could have possibly made you think this was a good idea!? You flea-bitten infested parasite! Get out! OUT!” At first, Grimmjow just looked puzzled at her explosion. He finally seemed to realize that he might be in trouble after she reached for her weapon.

“Whoa, hey, uh…” He backed away from her dresser and towards the closest window. Cirucci strode over to him and looked him in the eye. “No reason to go psycho-bitch killer on me, right?”

“Grimmjow,” she said darkly. She could almost see his adorable little cat ears pinning back at her tone. “If you ever do anything like this again,” she said smoothly while reaching into her back pocket. “I will castrate you.” His eyes were following her free hand intensely, hoping she wasn’t bringing out a knife to do it right then and there. “Got it?” She shoved a bottle of lube into one of his open hands and let go. Grimmjow was out her room, grinning, in a flash. “…”

“AND I DON’T WANT IT BACK!”

Jeagerjacques stalked. He was well below any radar he cared about, most importantly the sunburst of reiatsu he was basking in the shadow of. Just a little more careless, just a little more. Kurosaki Ichigo was plenty oblivious half the time as it was, but if Grimmjow was going to risk his life for this piece of ass, then even he was going to be careful.

The Shinigami slung his sword over his shoulder and gingerly made his way down a steep grassy hill next to the river. Grimm’s eyes narrowed; he didn’t know what Ichigo was up to at the moment, but he couldn’t waste a chance like this. He used his sonido and dove at the unsuspecting redhead’s midsection, crashing them both into the river. Ichigo had barely enough time for a shout of surprise before he was struggling for control under the water. Grimmjow grabbed his prey’s arm and swung him out of the river onto his back, and crawled over his body. Mine.

“You!” Ichigo gasped, coughing up water and getting the hair out of his eyes. “What the hell is your problem?!” He yelled at the Sexte Espada. “Would it kill you to use a normal greeting?” Grimmjow’s smile spread slowly and his lids lowered dangerously; the man looked ready to purr, and it made Kurosaki tense.

“It might, with you,” the Espada said, and lowered himself against the teen’s body, leaning in to delicately lick drops of water from Ichigo’s neck.

“Isn’t that supposed to be part of this?”Ichigo asked, concealing his nervousness, willing himself not to move away from Grimmjow’s eerie, skilled tongue. The Espada wasn’t shy and his body crushed down against Ichigo’s—he wasn’t sure whether to wait or give up and throw himself at the man’s mercy.

“Not tonight,” Grimm said deep in his chest. He opened Ichigo’s haori further and started to run his tongue along his chest. Oh no. Did they have to be wet? Did he have to be so close? So good at this? “Touch me,” the Espada commanded him as his right hand buried itself in Ichigo’s thick hair.

Ichigo didn’t fight the order. He reached out and touched Grimmjow’s mask. The man flinched in surprise and tried to pull away, but Ichigo’s hand closed around the bone.

“Th-That isn’t what I meant,” The Sexte Espada hissed in a strange tone, all his muscles taut. Does it hurt Arrancar when their masks are touched?

“Let me,” Ichigo said, and traced his calloused fingers along the bone. Eventually Grimmjow relaxed again, and leaned into the touch. “What does it feel like?” He asked quietly.

“…” Grimmjow shook his head and began kissing and sucking at the base of Ichigo’s throat. His long hands shoved aside the last of Ichigo’s haori, and his foot began slowly moving up along his hakama and rubbing the Shinigami’s calf.

“Grimmjow,” Ichigo insisted as he reached into the man’s jacket and up to his muscled shoulders. “Why the fuck won’t you tell me?” The Espada rose angrily from his focus and growled.

“Because I can’t tell you what it feels like,” Jeagerjacques said while looking oddly uncomfortable. “But…” His hand slid down Ichigo’s side to the back of his leg, rubbing and feeling until he started kneading his backside. The redhead flushed and pulled the Espada’s jacket down, studying carefully as his body was revealed. He touched just the edge of the Hole, remembering.

“But?” Ichigo looked up into Grimmjow’s eyes. Scary blue. And dangerous, and lusty, and…

“I can make you feel it,” the Arrancar said sinfully before covering Ichigo’s mouth with his own, kissing him deeply. That was an exaggeration, the teen thought. Grimmjow showing off. But the Espada’s reiatsu spread over his body in tendrils he could feel that drove him wild. He stopped keeping a check on his own energy and let it crash against the Arrancar’s. Grimmjow shivered and slowly ground his hips against Ichigo’s. It drove his breath away, the feeling stabbed into his gut so enjoyably.

When Grimmjow finally released him from the kiss, they were both crimson and breathing heavily. Without speaking he met Ichigo’s eyes and began pulling down his hakama. Once they were off, the Shinigami wrapped his arms around Grimmjow’s neck and kissed him hungrily, pulling him back down to the ground.

There was no more thinking. Not about the lightheadedness Ichigo suddenly felt or the lightning that raced across his skin, the desire in his gut, not about what might happen soon. Both of them fought to pull down Grimmjow’s pants as quickly as possible before pressing their bodies back together. Their legs twined and arms wrapped around each other, kissing and stealing breaths, rolling across the ground.

Grimmjow’s hands grabbed his partner’s ass confidently and pulled him closer so that he could grind against him. Ichigo made a dissatisfied sound when he was first grabbed. It turned to a slow exclamation of breath and a moan.

“Told you your ass was mine,” Grimmjow taunted him with another squeeze and another euphoric thrust against his partner.

“Shut up,” Ichigo snapped with a power and darkness behind his words he hadn’t used around Grimmjow before. “It’s yours because I’m letting you have it,” he growled, gold shining behind his brandy eyes. It triggered the Espada and he slammed his prey down back to the earth and reached under the waistband of his boxers. He barely touched the teen’s clearly aching erection, making him whine, and then ripped his boxers down.

“Let’s see if you live to regret that,” Grimmjow whispered hotly into his prize’s ear. The lube he’d borrowed from Cirucci already in hand, he popped the cap and started rubbing the substance liberally on his hands and cock. Another sort of light entered Kurosaki’s eyes as he watched; it made the desire settle hot into Grimmjow’s bones like the brightest coals, ready and waiting.

“…This,” Ichigo said, remembering the things he’d read, and saw, and watched… and feeling suddenly uneasy. “…This is the part that I—“ The strawberry’s words broke into a short yell when Grimmjow forced a finger into his entrance without warning him. “You bastard!” The Espada held tightly onto Ichigo’s left leg to keep him from struggling away as his right index finger stretched the ring of muscle. It was a strange sensation for the Shinigami, but it was turning him on so much more than he thought it would. Precum was beading faster and faster at the tip of his penis. He was starting to ache with need, fighting back noises for his pride’s sake. Luckily for him Grimmjow wasn’t slow—another slick finger started to probe and press inside him, filling him and making him moan. Grimmjow in turned grunted above him.

“No need to think about it,” he said roughly, and stretched Ichigo’s leg closer to the teen’s chest with his own body. A third finger began pressing for access and Ichigo tensed nervously—but Grimmjow’s shoved in anyway, sending an aching thrill through his high-strung body. The fingers worked deeper inside him past each knuckle, pressing and scissoring, making the boy quiver. Grimm, oh—dammit, oh please…

In half apology half tease the Sexte Espada bent to lick delicately at the slit of the teen’s stiff and alert cock, until unceremoniously all of his fingers removed themselves from inside. Ichigo looked at his partner lustily and questioningly.

Grimm released his hold on Ichigo’s leg as he met his lips for a deep tongue kiss, and carefully guided the tip of his cock to the redhead’s now slick entrance. Darts of nervousness started to prick at him, but he pressed his tongue against Grimmjow’s and gripped his back tightly. If he lost himself in the kiss, maybe it wouldn’t hurt so badly.

The Espada pressed slowly, all the while intensely exploring Ichigo’s mouth, until the head of his penis was inside him. Then Grimmjow drew his hips back just slightly and slammed his long cock wholly inside. The Shinigami tried to scream and thrash, but the Espada continued to kiss him passionately. It hurts, it hurts, he screamed in his head. It throbbed and it was hurting in waves across his whole body. Ichigo pulled his fist back and socked the Espada violently away from his face.

“Fuck!” Grimmjow clutched his cheek.

“You son of a bitch!” Ichigo shouted hoarsely. “Agh, you fucking bastard,” he continued angrily, still trying to writhe into some form of comfort with Grimmjow inside him. The man leaned back over Ichigo carefully, with a somewhat contrite grin and a rapidly forming bruise on his face.

“I know you’re pissed, but you’d’ve tensed up and it’d hurt even worse,” he barked, before the temperamental teen felt like punching that hard again.

“ That’s such bullshit! Oh shit, ohhhh…” Grimmjow’s smile became even more rakish.

“I think you’re gonna like this more’n you thought, little man,” he taunted cruelly, carefully rocking his hips into Ichigo’s body without removing his cock. Ichigo quivered and arched his back as he felt him brush something—oh… wet and breathless…He wasn’t sure... Grimmjow began pulling out just slightly and jabbing back into Ichigo’s giving body. His eyes flicked back and forth from slamming inside the boy to the looks on his face, joyfully raw and uncontrolled, unlike any other time.

“I’m…not gonna last that long, Grimmjow,” Ichigo warned throatily as the man’s thrusts became deeper and faster, so smooth and long. Ichigo’s muscled legs began clenching tightly to Grimmjow’s sides, making every thrust deeper. The Shinigami moaned. More. I’m going insane.

“Tell me how much you like it,” the Espada asked, low and seductive, before he began to claim a nipple with his tongue. Ichigo groaned again quietly.

“Don’t, don’t stop, so close,” he couldn’t even look into Grimmjow’s electric blue eyes anymore. He was lost, shaking in time to the pulses from between his legs. His lidded brandy eyes stared hazily at a spot into the distance, waiting.

Grimmjow pressed his lips against Ichigo’s, this time slipping his tongue in gently while his hips slammed hard. Too soon something inside Ichigo rushed over the edge and he moaned deeply into their kiss as he came. The blue-haired man broke just barely from their kiss to groan in pleasure, then captured him again as he shot himself inside the redhead. His thrusts gradually slowed to a stop and the beautiful man let himself rest on top of a tired and sated Ichigo.

   Too soon he started to notice the wind breathing against his sweaty skin and the cool, damp clothing underneath them. Grimmjow slid out of him carefully, and with a deeply self-satisfied smirk handed Ichigo his boxers. He snatched them away with a requisite scowl and pulled them on. Grimm watched him.

   "Didn't think you'd be so..." Grimmjow chewed on the word. "Nonchalant about it afterwards," he finished with a grin. He seemed to think it was charming to help Ichigo redress by yanking his haori back over his shoulders.

   "...Maybe I'm thinking about the next time," Ichigo offered carelessly, not looking at the Espada and his predatory smiles. And maybe I am.

   "Mm... I'll come see you about that," Grimmjow rumbled. Ichigo could practically feel the satisfaction rolling off the Arrancar's skin in waves. Now he wanted to smack the man around a little before the next time.

   "So is that really how it felt when I touched your mask?" The Shinigami asked suddenly. Grimmjow went silent, and Ichigo was sure his smirk was no longer there.

   "...Sorta," he answered gruffly. Ichigo stood up and made sure his shihakusho was correct before looking at him again.

   "If you had to use words," he pressed, trying not to betray his interest in the answer. But he felt like he already had the answer. Grimmjow shifted uncomfortably, now looking ready to leave.

   "...Like you were touching... Y'know, whatever we Arrancar got... instead a' souls," Grimmjow muttered while looking at Ichigo shrewdly, expecting disbelief or mockery. Instead there was silence. "What?" He jabbed angrily.

   "Nothing," Ichigo said, staring at him. "Just-- That's what I thought." They looked at each other for a long moment after that, but Grimmjow looked away first.

   "I'll see you," he said without turning. A blink and his sonido had carried the Espada far away, again Ichigo got the familiar feeling he was sinking into something much deeper than he'd planned.

Being the New Arrancar in Town is...

Thu, 29 Jan 2009 19:35:14 GMT

http://stacye.deviantart.com/art/A-real-pain-in-the-neck-111112716

Heh heh. A cute drawing of Nieronaut Asterlindt by autumnpoppy (thankyou <3 ) that iiis exactly what he looks like. Poor little man.

When Inspiration Breaks the Dam

Tue, 27 Jan 2009 17:11:06 GMT

Then you drown and see the light.

: )

Don't Look a Gift Snake in the Mouth

Mon, 26 Jan 2009 18:29:02 GMT

My horoscope says the Year of the Ox is looking better for me, which is good, because last year fucking sucked.

Rat is Water, Snake is principally Fire and I was born Yin Earth. Also, Snakes eat Rats, so I guess I can understand the problem.

The Year of the Rat warned Snakes not to loan money and beware of theft (happened), expect not to get that money back (happened), health problems (happened to the max), emotional instabilities and wrong friends will distract you from your studies (whoahey are you sure this isn't about me?).

For Snakes in the Year of the Ox: Beware of health problems again. Your career is likely to progress very well as long as you aren't lazy. You are still feeling hurt and isolated and shouldn't expect to find love this year.

Time to put my fingers in my ears and ignore chinese astrology again!

"People born in the Year of the Snake are deep. They say little and possess great wisdom. They never have to worry about money; they are financially fortunate. Snake people are often quite vain, selfish, and a bit stingy. Yet they have tremendous sympathy for others and try to help those less fortunate. Snake people tend to overdo, since they have doubts about other people’s judgment and prefer to rely on themselves. They are determined in whatever they do and hate to fail. Although calm on the surface, they are intense and passionate. Snake people are usually good-looking and sometimes have marital problems because they are fickle. They are most compatible with the Ox and Rooster."

I'd like to think it's true. I can be more than a little selfish and vain, but when I get the chance to give I go overboard. I rarely have problems with money and trust my judgement over almost everyone else's... That's a resolution by the way, to try and not believe I'm absolutely right. (But I try not to say anything if I'm not right to begin with...) I've been told my relationship problems are from acting too boyish, not being too fickle. :)

Lackin' in Blurbin'

Sun, 25 Jan 2009 04:03:13 GMT

I've been told a couple of times that my description for Angry at the World isn't very good at drawing people in and doesn't really describe the story. Which I don't disagree with, but unfortunately I just don't know how to write a blurb.

...Help?

This is the current one, not very reflective of the story, except that it involves Grimmjow and Ichigo.

"Grimmjow is dead set on posessing Kurosaki Ichigo for more reasons than even he knows, no matter what the consequences. Despite his hate for the Espada, Ichigo can't help but feel connected by their mutual rage and fire."

If you write a great one, maybe I'll write you a request. ;)

Angry at the World - Chapter 22 - Reaping

Sat, 24 Jan 2009 20:42:26 GMT

Title: Angry at the World
Pairing: Grimmjow x Ichigo
Rating: NC-17 as a whole
Description: Grimmjow is dead set on posessing Kurosaki Ichigo for more reasons than even he knows, no matter what the consequences. Despite his hate for the Espada, Ichigo can't help but feel connected by their mutual rage and fire.

*Ahem*

"They're baaaaack!"

I enjoy and listen to reader feedback, reviews and comments. <3 Links to previous chapters are available at the end.

Chapter 22 - Reaping

Ichigo felt a bit nauseous. His hands throbbed. He also really didn’t want to see his father’s face.

“I can tell when you’re awake, especially when you’re hooked up to monitoring equipment,” Ishida said dryly. Ichigo eyes shot open. Nerdy, bespectacled and cranky—Uryuu really was back in front of him.

“You’re back! The fuck did you come here for?” He asked the Quincy in disbelief, and looked around conspiratorially for Isshin.

“He isn’t here. Urahara-san said he had a diversion planned so that you could leave.” Ishida gave Ichigo a studious glance. “But he never mentioned why you would have trouble leaving in the first place,” he said calmly and politely, dancing around the question. The redhead’s jaw clenched. “I suppose it has something to do with this,” the Quincy stated while reaching for the Vaizard’s bandaged hand. Ichigo pulled his hand away. Then he slipped out of bed.

“…I lost my temper,” Ichigo replied quietly. “Let’s go.” Ishida looked at him thoughtfully before speaking.

“Kurosaki--” He began.

“What?” Ichigo growled as he pulled on his coat. Nag-fucking-nag.

“Had you noticed this yet?” Ishida’s mouth drew into a thin line as he picked something up from the floor. A mask. The mask. Ichigo’s heart clamped down hard. Fuck the Vaizard. Control? What control? My life is more destructive than ever. “It seems not,” he murmured. Ichigo didn’t respond. “Don’t shut down just yet,” the Quincy jabbed.

“Fuck off, I’m fine!” he growled back at him.

“Fine?” Ishida asked with slightly raised brows.

“…I’m going to help Inoue. You coming, or are you too concerned about me?” Ichigo asked, and left without waiting for an answer.

“So,” Isshin said as he sipped at his tea. “You’re going to give me an explanation of your meddling in my son’s life.” Urahara politely removed his hat and set it on the table, looking shocked.

“Meddling! I have only ever had the boy’s best interests at heart--” Isshin’s sword tip suddenly brushed the bridge of Kisuke’s nose. “—Well, not always I admit, sometimes I let scientific curiosity carry me away…” The blonde murmured.

“As you do,” Isshin said shortly, and lowered his sword. “Grimmjow.”

“You can’t possibly blame me--”

“—For the Gigai, the clothes, the money? I most certainly do!”

“…” Kisuke’s gaze became shrewd. “You had the chance to undo all of that.”

“It was too late, and it’s still too late for killing him to be the solution. As you had hoped,” the older Kurosaki said darkly. Urahara sighed and sipped at his tea before answering.

“I had a feeling it wouldn’t be hard for Grimmjow-san to abandon Las Noches, and such an ally… To not use your son as the anchor would be a crime.”

“…”

“And there we arrive again, the meddling…”

“From Soul Society… From you, into my life, but to him…”

“Perhaps you can talk me into taking the blame for your lie some other time, Kurosaki-san,” Urahara said distantly. His hat was swiftly back on his head. “For now, I have other business, if you’ll be so kind…?” The blonde man asked magnanimously, gesturing towards the door.

“…Of course, but we’re not nearly done,” Isshin said grudgingly as he departed.

“No, no, we never are, are we Kurosaki-san?” Urahara asked with a glowing smile before slamming the door shut.

Grimmjow schooled his expression to a neutral sneer. Just drawing his sword had been an off-balance, wrong affair without his arm. Now that it was right… That wasn’t any reason to let them know how he felt about it. Yet he knew if he wasn’t thankful Aizen would disapprove, and he would let Grimmjow know. Without words, or as the Shinigami would say smoothly, in a language you understand.

The Espada watched his fresh hand clench into a fist; clench, unclench. Clench, unclench. It was the same that it ever was. Inoue stepped away, finished with healing him. What obnoxiousness was she wearing? The white gown completely covered her tits and her legs. What else could he look at, her face? That was muted, forlorn looking. Unusual for the stupid woman, and Grimmjow was angry for noticing. He was angry she was here, instead of being on earth, where he should have been too.

Where I should be? …Well, fuck, he’ll be all pissy ‘bout the chick missing, and he’ll blame it on me—Grimmjow’s face hardened. Fuck. He’s probably already—Fucking little shit, always gotta be so fucking judgemental—He was working himself into a mental rage before he realized that this was probably going to result in a fight. And since it wasn’t actually Grimmjow’s fault, well, good fight, better sex.

More things he wouldn’t be telling Aizen.

“Thanks, woman,” he muttered to Orihime and stood to face the master of the Espada. “So what’s the catch?” he asked acidly. A smile spread like silk across Sosuke’s face—an unctuous, promising smile. Not a good promise.

“There is no catch. You cannot serve the cause if you are not whole. Now… Miss Orihime,” he said with a nod, and turned toward the door. The girl got the hint, and walked out in front of him in silence. No catch my ass. He’s gonna want a “favor” outta this… Grimmjow let himself collapse back into his sofa chair. The one piece of furniture so comfortable that he hadn’t sharpened his claws or blunted his anger on it. He took a deep breath and sighed.

“Ah, Grimmjow, just one more thing…” Aizen called from the doorway. Grimmjow’s eyes narrowed. Couldn’t even wait to gloat. “There will be no more visiting Earth on social calls, do you understand?” The Sexte Espada’s sneer deepened. He didn’t like this fucking coy leader act.

“Social calls?” He growled, baiting. Son of a bitch. If he knows I was there, he knows why. Fuck. This won’t be the end of this mess.

“…Fraternization, as it were, is a punishable offense. As is,” he paused, “any offense. I suggest you cherish this particular pardon from justice,” the brown-haired man’s threat was delivered with a charismatic smirk. The smirk that won dead men’s hearts just made Grimmjow want to dig his fingers through Aizen’s skull like a bowling ball and rip his face off. The filthy Shinigami knew it too—and like an indulgent parent, let Grimmjow think about it all he wanted.

Grimmjow’s nails began to dig into the armrest of his beloved chair before Aizen had even left the room. The soft material split easily, it’s stuffing already bulging at the seams. It can’t stay this way. His muscles were coiling in rage while he tried to think of a solution instead of making one with violence. One lapdog or another is going to be watching me, maybe even two… The question is which fucker do I have to lose and how annoying is it gonna be. He sat back. This wasn’t bad. He was relaxed, he was thinking of a solution—far smoother than normal.

But what if I ain’t there so they can—they wouldn’t. They couldn’t.

…Tch…

His friends’ll be there. If they know what’s good for them they’ll protect him. But the woman was here, the healer. If the boy couldn’t kill the Espada some sap from Soul Society wasn’t gonna be able to save him. Then what would become of his prized possession— Dead. Dead, or worse.

Not so long ago he hadn’t thought there was anything worse than death. What does that make him to me?

Jealousy and fear suddenly lined his face. “ Goddammit!” He roared out, and hurled the cushy chair out his largest window. The glass shattered brilliantly. He listened to the piece of furniture fall and crack on every level of the fortress until even his ears could hear nothing. The silence hummed and stretched with nothing to break it.

The blue-haired man’s angry energy suddenly drained, and he slunk to his bed. I want him back. It ain’t been that long and I need him back.

I don’t need anybody. Why do I need red hair and problems and emotions? I don’t. I wouldn’t have needed a new arm in the first place if not for him, the son of a bitch. I don’t need some love starved, fucked up kid from the other side of a war to watch out for, fuck me over for bein’ a traitor… What was I thinking? Fuck, he just lost me that chair. I loved that fucking chair.

…

…I love that fucking boy...

~

Chapter 21 - With Cruel Speed
Chapter 20 - And So He Falls

Chapter 1 - Angry at the World
Chapter 2 - After

DISCLAIMER: All characters depicted in sexual situations in this post/fanfiction/fanart (including material in the comments) are fictional and are intended to be and considered to be by the author of said material of the legal age of consent in the United States state of California, regardless of what age these characters may be in the material they are derived from.