-BRING ON THE PROMPTS, BIFFLES! That's right, you heard me. I'm back to taking drabble prompts now! Woo hoo~ I have now caught up on the massive amounts that all of you donated, which adds up to a stunning 120 drabbles out of my 200. You guys are ruining my attempts at having a longer lasting drabble project. If anything these are going to get done just as fast as my original 100! It almost makes me sad to know that these will be done soon… but I guess I mustn't think like that. Anyway, I will not be posting ANY drabbles over the next week, due to my final exams and the fact that I'm writing all of my friends and family Christmas presents this year, so I have to get those done and ready to go. Hopefully before Wednesday whence I will be leaving my printer behind at my dorm. My bootimus, bootiumus color laser printer. So sad. Anyway, for now, enjoy these drabbles, and please donate if you have any more ideas!

1: Table

"Why do you think Logan seems to like Toshiro so much?" Ichigo had asked Xavier one day as they made their way down to the small dining room for some lunch. Ichigo stood by the elderly man, waiting for the small elevator to trundle down to the first floor. "I mean, he's about the last person I expected to take a liking to him, considering they're about as antipodal as they can get."

Xavier's keen gray eyes had looked up at Ichigo rather amusedly, and Ichigo had looked back down, a bit concerned as the look. "Probably for the same reasons you like him," Xavier said as they exited the elevator, leaving a marginally stunned Ichigo behind. When the ginger caught up with the man's words, he chased after the older gentleman.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, rather offended. "Logan and I are nothing alike!"

The older man's laughter told him otherwise. "Oh, but you are in so many ways. You may have a brighter outlook than Logan, and be less self-centered than he, but he's had much longer to mull over his life and dwell on his pains than you have. But there lies in the both of you a central factor, to which you both uphold quite resolutely." Ichigo looked at him curiously until he responded. "You both greatly desire to protect those you trust. And though it may be for different reasons, the core intent is the same."

Ichigo went silent for a moment, pondering over what the other man had said. He was probably correct, in spite of how much he would have like to deny it. But, as it stood, another question had come to mind. And, considering the other man's considerable life experience would probably give him a much more interesting perspective on the matter.

"Then why do you think we both like Toshiro?"

Xavier laughed, but this time a bit more gently. He didn't look up at Ichigo, rather focusing on the driving of his wheelchair. "I think both of you see parts of him in yourselves. Pained, wounded parts. Parts that both of you would like to protect and mend. But his reciprocal behavior is what drives you on, his perseverance and intelligence stimulating enough to keep you both coming back."

With that the two of them entered the small dining hall, only to find the vast majority of the rather large dining room table consumed by papers, books, and a scattered array of spectators. Most of them being the staff of the school themselves, surprisingly, and all of them seemed to be gathered around a rather large menagerie of large sheets of blueprint paper, which Toshiro, bless his icy heart, was working on.

When they entered, both Ichigo and Xavier looked to Logan and Scott for answers. Scott shrugged, apparently having just entered himself. Logan however, who was leaning against one of the walls with a smirk on his face, looked back at them rather triumphantly. "I gave him a book on aeronautics," he said simply.

Ichigo smacked his face, rubbing it in an attempt to get the oncoming groan rising up his throat from going away. Now that Logan knew that Toshiro was a genius, it was no surprise that he was abusing the fact for his own purposes. But rather than having to explain himself, one of the women in the room did it for him. She was the African American woman with white hair, whom he knew went by the surname Storm most often.

"Charles, he's designing us a new plane."

2: Holder

"Ikkaku, take it." The bald third seat of the 11th Division looked at his Captain almost fearfully, blinking worriedly as an armful of three year old child was shoved his way.

"B-but, Captain," he tried to splutter, doing his best to avoid having to hold the small child.

"HOLD. IT."

Crumbling under the menacing order, the balding man quickly took the small child as it cooed with interest in his arms. "But, Captain, I don't want to break it," he mumbled out halfheartedly, truly afraid of breaking or hurting the small child.

"And I don't want to get broken for having it," Kenpachi Zaraki growled back, making to walk away from his poor unsuspecting subordinate.

Surprised by the answer, Ikkaku trailed after his Captain, obviously not understanding the extenuating circumstances at hand. "Wait, Captain! What do you mean?"

"I mean that as soon as Ichigo and Toshiro find out that Rangiku has lost their child, you can bet your bottom dollar that they're going to be looking for her." Much to Ikkaku's surprise, he actually saw his Captain shudder. "And the last thing I want to deal with is an angry Mama Dragon. And I wouldn't recommend handing her off if I were you; the more distance that gets between Toshiro and that baby, the less likely you are to survive."

3: Up

Scott looked over at Storm incredulously, his brown brows kicking up over his glasses as he looked at her, then down to the blueprints Toshiro was working on. "You can't be serious!" he barked, finally drawing Toshiro's attention away from his drawings. Much to Scott's chagrin it seemed, Toshiro was still only mildly interested by the outburst. "He's just a kid; he doesn't know a lick about flying."

"Well, that's not true," Ichigo inputted before Toshiro had the chance to. He met Toshiro's glance for a moment, his heart thrilling at the gentle smile on the other man's lips. "Toshiro probably knows more about flying than most people."

Scott still seemed rather unconvinced. "Well what have you gone up with before, then?" he asked, crossing his arms over his narrow chest. Ichigo did not miss the rather content look that Scott was getting from Logan, and almost smirked to himself.

Toshiro's smirk was contagious, and it passed to Ichigo's lips just as it began to grace Toshiro's pale ones. "Let's just say I have my own equipment."

4: Void

It was something like trying to hear inside a vacuum. There was absolutely nothing; no sound, no movement. Just emptiness. But the emptiness was burning. It seethed, undulated with fevered emotion, and yet froze with paralyzing intensity.

Ichigo could never have imagined how frightening an enraged Toshiro could be. He'd seen the man's anger, true anger, bubble up in battle. It had scared him then, more than anything else in the world. But it paled now in comparison to the man's fury. But as he sat there, garnering his split lip and otherwise well wounded body, he was unsure whether to be honored by it or remained frightened.

Because even as the gray-eyed man who had been threatening him backed away, wide eyed with fear, there was a dangerous malice to Toshiro. Ichigo could feel it in his spiritual pressure. But that did not change the relief that flooded his heart at seeing the other man, pristine as a glowing testament to the lies the gray-eyed man had been feeding him from the start. Nor did it keep him from reveling in the battle that proceeded after his arrival, though it was not a short one by any means.

Ichigo could only watch, trying to stave off the pain from his own wounds, as Toshiro's rage altered his normal fighting style. He was usually calm; pristine, calculating, and generally slow in pace. But all of that had shifted. Now hate lashed across his eyes as he watched his enemy's every move, his move sharp and strong as the penetrated every opening that hung open, even if it was only for a split second or two.

At the end of it all, he didn't walk away unwounded like Ichigo had anticipated him to. And even though his wounds were minor, Ichigo could tell that the other was fraught with tire. His opponent was much worse off, but the lingering emptiness in the grey eyes as the man made to retreat did not leave behind the means for a satisfying victory. If anything, they promised retribution, which neither he nor Toshiro were particularly partial to.

But as Toshiro strode over to him, kneeling to help the Substitute stand, he realized that more than the crushing force of Toshiro's anger, left behind was the void of how much it cost him. How much hate, anger, and rage taxed his body. And Ichigo could tell that, were Toshiro not preoccupied with trying to keep him up, he would probably be having a great deal of a hard time keeping himself up. But with the distraction and point of focus, he was able to get them safely back to Urahara's, where he probably would have promptly disappeared to stew over his own thoughts had Ichigo not prevented him from doing so.

Because after such a strange battle, and such a strange string of events, the last thing he wanted to do was knowingly let Toshiro slip back into the void of his own thoughts. Instead, he asked Toshiro to stay, and gave the other man another focal point to ground himself on as the two of them, both shell-shocked in their own ways, slowly landed back down on earth.

5: Tell

Ichigo tapped the expensive green felt of the cherry wood poker table nervously. He tried to keep his face neutral, keeping his breath even as he stared down at the two cards in his hands. As far as his lucky streak was concerned, it was all over. He'd weaseled his way into the final round of the poker tournament by sheer dumb luck, and now said dumb luck had meandered away. Left with a bloody two of diamonds and a seven of spades sitting in his hand, Ichigo had little hope of achieving victory, considering the majority of the cards already laid down by the house were face cards.

A pair of twinkling oceanic eyes watched him from their seat across the table, and he resisted the urge to groan.

The defeat wouldn't have been nearly so humiliating if it wasn't his spouse who was the final competitor, and if he hadn't been bragging about winning the grand prize just for him all along. As it turned out, Toshiro seemed perfectly competent of winning it himself, as made obvious by the fact that he was the only other person left of what had once been a full table.

Hoping on a dream that Toshiro's blank stare was a bluff, Ichigo decided to risk calling him on it. Even though he would have to show his cards first, it was something he had to risk. He had to know what the other man had gotten, and had to at least know if he'd been defeated truly. He refused to fold; his pride was not yoked to take a beating lying face down in the mud.

Even though that's what he felt like he was doing, at that point.

Especially when Toshiro turned over his cards, revealing an ace of spades and a jack of the same suit; matching all too well the king and queen of spades that lay face up on the house table. Ichigo groaned, burying his head in his hands as Toshiro smirked triumphantly over his massive stack of colorful poker chips. The white haired man stood, offering a hand for the ginger headed man to shake.

Ichigo begrudgingly took it, knowing that being humble was the only thing that was going to save him. When Toshiro had collected his winnings and loosened his tie, they both left for home in general peaceable, and in Toshiro's case, humored silence.

"I still don't get how you beat me," Ichigo said, deciding to break the silence himself. "I was doing so well all along. I guess my luck just ran out on that last turn, huh?"

Toshiro, surprisingly, shook his head in denial of Ichigo's statement. "No," he said. "Your luck didn't run out. The cards just ran out on you."

Ichigo looked over at the other curiously. The only way he could tell that the other was sorely amused was because of the strange quirk that tugged at what had probably once been a dimple in Toshiro's cheek when he was trying to resist smiling. It was a tell, Ichigo realized, one that, had he not been too busy fretting over his own cards, he probably would have seen. "Then what did happen?" he asked, now curious. "Did Akira stack the deck or something when she dealt?"

Toshiro laughed. "No, it had nothing to do with Akira's shuffling. It was just because of the simple fact that I can count cards that I knew your hand wasn't good. If your face didn't make it clear enough first," he teased, nudging Ichigo's arm playfully. Ichigo groaned, rolling his eyes. Of course Toshiro would know how to count cards.

"So, tell me, Toshiro, what are you going to do with all the prize money?" Ichigo said, leaning down and kissing his spouse on the neck in spite of the humbling defeat. Toshiro seemed to have been waiting for him to do so, and dipped his neck to kiss at the side of Ichigo's face. Surprised at the rather quick, and undeniably affectionate response, Ichigo looked up at his spouse curiously.

"Consider it an investment in the future," he said with a little coy quirk to his lips.

Ichigo's eyes were probably as big as dinner plates at that point, but there was no lie in Toshiro's eyes to make him think for a moment that the other wasn't serious. "Toshiro," he whispered quietly, resting his hand on one silky cheek, "do you mean what I think you mean?"

"If I mean that we're going to have to be going to see Captain Unohana for some arrangements soon, then yes."

6: Bring

Ichigo never really enjoyed waking up with Toshiro not at least in bed next to him. It made him feel uneasy; like he'd done something wrong. But when he woke up early one Saturday morning to find Toshiro gone, he didn't have that ominous feeling settling over him. He'd sat up, looking around to see if the other was in their bedroom anywhere. He wasn't, but his side of the bed was still cooler than the surrounding air; indicating he hadn't left long ago. Just as he was about to lumber out of bed, Toshiro walked in, fully dressed and apparently clean. Startled, he blinked curiously at his husband.

"Ichigo," he said, walking in a few more steps. "I wasn't expecting you to be up so soon. I'm sorry if I woke you up." At that moment the gentle smell of ginger wandered into the room, and Ichigo took a deep breath, drinking in the delectable smell.

"Why are you up so early?" he asked, standing up and letting his pajama pants settle down his legs. "Are you cooking?"

Toshiro nodded, rifling through the drawer of his nightstand, flicking through some papers until he took out one, folded it, and set it into the folds of his shihakusho. He glanced back over at his husband. "Yes. I'm headed out to Junrinan today. I was just coming in to let you know where I was headed."

The answer surprised the taller Captain, and he just managed to catch Toshiro's narrow arm as the other man made to leave their room once more. "Wait, why are you headed out to Junrinan? You're not going on a mission are you?"

Toshiro laughed good naturedly, slowing for a moment and turning back to face Ichigo. "No, I'm not going on a mission," he said with a sweet smile on his lips. "I'm headed out to see my grandmother. It's her birthday today, and I was going to surprise her."

"Can I come?" Ichigo asked, obviously startling Toshiro by his sudden question. He'd probably been expecting Ichigo to be surprised, but the fact was that Ichigo's mind was too hung up on the fact that this was his chance to finally meet Toshiro's grandmother. "I sent her a letter last week, but I'd really like to come and meet her if that's okay."

Toshiro's face lit up, and Ichigo smiled back at his spouse. "Of course you can come. Though, you'd better hurry. I'm almost finished cooking and then I'm headed out. I want to get there before dawn when all the festivities start." Releasing his husband, Ichigo made a bee line for the shower, more than willing to sacrifice their Saturday morning tradition of bathing together in order to have his chance to meet the one woman in all of Soul Society how may know as much about Toshiro as him.

7: Net

"Catch of the day, I think," Ichigo said, hauling up the net full of his rather unhappy husband.

"Ha ha, it is to laugh," Toshiro bit out, glaring at the other through the soul-containing net. One of Urahara's most recent inventions, it was made to contain vagabond souls (not unlike the strange number of them that had been crawling out of the woodwork to cause trouble as of late). But he'd needed a volunteer to see how well it worked; and how well it could stand up against different levels of spiritual pressure.

Thus far, it was barely enough to keep in a Captain with a limiter and an un-released shikai, but Ichigo knew that data was probably augmented by the fact that Toshiro was more than marginally pissed.

8: Flow

"I think I'm ready to leave, Toshiro."

His husband had looked up at him with a grain of surprise in his teal eyes. The morning newspaper and his steadily cooling espresso forgotten, Toshiro turned his full attention to him. They'd been in their seaside villa for more than a month, and though Ichigo had enjoyed every moment spent with Toshiro since Aizen's departure, there was something else itching in him now. It was a curiosity, an interest in where the Grace could take them next. It had been lingering on his mind for several days, but he'd kept his words locked to his tongue, hoping to keep his mind from jumping to any rash conclusions.

"Alright." Ichigo was surprised at how simple Toshiro's reaction was, and the firmness behind his voice. Ichigo's curious look obviously made its way to the other Captain's attention, because he explained shortly after. "Wherever we go is fine with me, Ichigo, so long as you're with me."

Ichigo smiled at him, then, gingerly. "I wouldn't leave you behind if my life depended on it," he said, and he offered a hand to his husband as he stood from their kitchen table. Toshiro took the hand, following him up. "After all, you said it was natural, right? This is just Home Base; it's only right that we leave as more people flow in."

Toshiro nodded, a smile on his lips. "Indeed. I do believe it's high past time that we made room for someone else that needs this place." He ended with a strong look to his spouse, "We're more than strong enough to survive the rushing tide back out to the ocean, now."

9: Thin

"You're walking a thin line, Logan, I hope you know that," Ichigo told the gruff man one day, tossing down a card as their game of Egyptian Rat Screw slowly began to draw to a close.

Logan's dark eyes looked unamused at him over his smoldering cigar. "Don't worry, I won't go stealing your little Ice Prince," he grumbled, though a bit more grudgingly than Ichigo had anticipated. Regardless, that was not the topic he had intended to broach with the other man.

He shook his fiery head. "That's not what I meant," he said, smirking at his triumph over the older man, who swore over his cigar, tapping the ashes into a nearby tray as Ichigo recollected the cards for another round. "He's too old for you, anyway."

Logan rolled his eyes. "If he's too old for me, then he's way too damn old for you, Hot Shot," he grumbled, before realizing the oddity of Ichigo's previous statement. "Wait, how old is he, then?"

"Somewhere around the range of one hundred and fifty," Toshiro said, setting himself down on another chair between the two of them, settling his elbows on the table they were playing on. "I can't remember the exact number. Lost track after so many. Mind if I join in?"

Ichigo shrugged, dealing them all in and letting the game recommence over Logan's flabbergasted expression. "You're a hundred and fifty years old?" he asked. "You've gotta be pulling my leg."

"My hands are holding cards at the moment, so they can't exactly be pulling on your leg," Toshiro droned out, flicking a card down. "And the thin line Ichigo was talking about was self-destructive behavior. Get a dog maybe, or a cat. Or even a boyfriend to invest your time in."

"Just because you Japanese queers have the balls to be public about it doesn't mean that people who act like you do are queer too," Logan growled out, obviously not appreciating any of the above implications.

"And just because you Americans are bashful about your modified sexual orientation doesn't mean that what I've said isn't valid," Toshiro said, still miraculously calm as Ichigo was all but laughing his guts out at the blush boiling under Logan's thick sideburns. "But the fact stands, I'm still too old for you, and I'm taken anyway."

10: Grind

"Kurosaki, now is not the time for this."

"Aww, c'mon, Toshiro, why not?"

"Because we have a Captain's meeting in five minutes, and even the baggiest shihakusho pants in the world couldn't hide that."

"…shit."

-BRING ON THE PROMPTS, BIFFLES! As stated above, I am now taking drabble donations once more! Until I get some more I will obviously not be updating, but I am also going to be donating much of my time this week to writing out my Christmas presents and trying not to kill myself over finals. I only have 80 slots left for drabbles, which may seem like a lot, but with the way you guys donate it probably won't last long. But now, over halfway done with this set, I'm faced with a problem: what the hell am I going to do when this set is done? I'm not sure if I should continue writing drabbles, or perhaps start some manner of AU fic to absorb my time along with B2B (which I plan to continue to only update monthly). I have reached an impasse with myself and what I want to do. Input from all of you would be lovely. Now, onto the drabble notes. Drabble 4: Void was a follow up on drabble 9 & 10 from the last set. Drabble 6: Bring was a continuation of an old drabble of mine from 100 Words I Would Say, from set 5 called "Letter". This is for xTKx, who requested the sequel. I do plan on continuing to the actual meeting, dearie, so hold out for that. Drabble 8: Flow was also a continuation on an old set of drabbles from the original 100 relating to my Grace Trains theory. That's about all for now; I'll see you probably after this week and after I've gotten more donations! Peace biffles!

8-90s love,

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