-Well, these turned out a lot longer than I expected! It took me a while to get them posted because I was working on B2B, which took up a lot of my time. Not really; I'm just lying to cover my own ass. Anyway, enjoy these Scarlett Foxie, they were most fun. Again, probably too much fun, but I'm too dazzled by them to care. As always, excuse my horrid editing skills. Meaning I don't edit at all, meaning spelling errors just happen. Anyway, notes on the bottom!

1: Push

He was pushing harder than he had ever pushed in his life. His heart was thundering, beating angrily against his throat as the distant horizon rose up to meet him. With every pounding footstep of the horse beneath him, his goal drew that much closer. The dawn each moment fast approaching as the blackness crushed around he and his steed. But the great auburn mount needed no encouragement to keep pace; it ran of its own sheer want of. All he needed was to give the beast direction, and it would alight him to wherever he chose on legs so impassioned by running that they wouldn't stop lest they need to. That was the heart of his steed; and his own heart as well. They thundered together, in pride, honor, and glory for what was to become an historic meeting.

Never before had the King of the Northern countries descended to meet with them, nor ever before had knowledge even come to them of his son. But with the late King's demise, and the son's rise to power, not unlike his own, they could afford to ignore each other no longer. Especially with the threat of the warring East and West on their heels, North and South could no longer remain ambiguous towards each other.

So, in honor of that accord, the newly appointed King of the Northern countries had arranged a meeting, in the great city that sat between all four regions as their grounds for peace. The city had remained stateless, and without conflict for generations, and so long as it continued to be so, he saw no flaw in meeting the new King halfway.

But his willingness was not without ulterior motive. This new King had spread rumors, surrounding his competence and his flair for individuality; he was his father's son, indeed, but not a hair like his father. He was his own man, small, petulant, but a genius the likes of which the North had not seen in over ten generations. He was, now, their savior, from a future uncertain.

He was fascinated to meet this man, for if he was as coldly spirited as they said, he could make for an interesting ally.

With those thoughts running away with his mind, he urged his steed to press on, wishing the mountains and gullies that lay in their path to fold away and reveal their destination, for anticipation of what lay waiting there when he arrived.

2: Pull

He was pulling his steed to a slow trot by his leather reins when he became aware of another rider's arrival at the Royal Housing. He himself was whipped from exhaustion on the four days ride, but his heart was yet thundering from it still. His steed was hopping on gray hoofed feet, still ecstatic from the challenge of the journey. He patted the steed's sweat soaked neck, speaking to him soothingly in an attempt to calm him enough to be comfortable with setting him to the stables.

There was snow in the city, so the new arrival's cloak was not something peculiar in and of itself. However, the design of it was one that did not herald to any style Ichigo had seen from the East, West, or even his own South. It was a deep shade of gray, but when the sharp winter light danced upon it, strange hues of deep green and oceanic blue would appear. The hood was drawn up over the face of the rider, who was yet at the gate to the Royal Grounds, and not close enough for observation.

So, instead, he observed the stately mount that bore the traveler hence. It was a kingly beast, standing hands upon hands upon hands; well taller than his own steed. Its deep brown coat glistened with sweat, the great chest heaving as its feet skipped to a slower pace. Apparently, this steed also was delighted by the journey; though he could tell the creature was not at all perturbed by the chill. Thus, he could only discern one guess as to who the traveler was as their steeds took up slow pace beside one another.

When at last the traveler drew back his hood, the young King was not disappointed. Much to what the rumors had said, the King of the North bore a crown of hair worthy of his lands; pure as the snow on his mountains. But the eyes that watched him with such keenness were a blue the likes of which he had never seen. They were as encompassing as the sea, yet as light and dancing as the tropic tides he loved so much. They were haunting in their sharpness, but not unkind in spite of such intelligence.

"My Lord," Ichigo said, with a bow of his own head and a smile on his face. He glanced up through his own fiery bangs to observe the man's reaction, feeling both of their steeds finally stand to a stop.

The pale eyebrows had risen, and a mirrored smile had also been beckoned to the other's elfin face. The King of the North bowed his head in return. "My Lord," he said, in a voice deep in command, but belying his own slight size. But already, he was intrigued by this man and his actions, more than ever before; for there was one thing that caught his attention from the time that he had ridden in.

There had been an entire wordless exchange that had passed between them upon their arrival, and a deep seated amicability that had settled between them. He knew then that they were of like spirit; and for two Kings, that only ever spelled great fortune and promise.

3: Twist

"Come on, boy, you can do better than that!"

"Ow, ow! Third Seat Santiago, please let go! My arm is going numb!"

"Then make me let go you yellow-bellied push-over. I'm pinning you with one damn arm!"

"You only have one arm!"

"Which makes you even more pathetic! Come on, put up some fight!"

"Akira."

"Yes Captain?"

"Please let go of the new recruit. I can't have you making them into pretzels just yet."

"Sorry, sir. I was just testing their tenacity. They're going to need a lot of work."

"Oh my God… someone call Squad 4, I can't move my arm."

"See what I mean?"

"Hmm."

4: Scold

"Oh no, I can't be bothered with that. I have no time for that sort of nonsense."

"Oh?" the man said, thrumming his fingers against the café table with a bored expression on his face.

"Yeah. See, I've got a boyfriend waiting at home, and if I'm late one more time, he'll really scold me."

With that, Toshiro leapt up and over the railing behind him, tucking his knees in and rolling up as he made contact with the ground. Bullets hissed past his ears, and he laughed to himself, disappearing into the crowd of people scattering to elude the gunfire that had exploded in the commons.

He should have known better than to accept an invitation to Mombasa.

5: Ill

"Ichigo, for the last damn time, stay in bed!" Toshiro barked as his husband clandestinely attempted to sneak down the hallway towards the front door. He'd managed to get fully dressed, which was surprising, considering he'd been bed ridden for days. But now apparently he was hell bent on actually doing some work, which was so hopelessly unheard of that Toshiro was convinced he still wasn't healthy.

Thankfully, however, it was three feet from the front door that Ichigo went tumbling to the floor, apparently taken over by one of the numerous dizzy spells he'd been toiling under for the past week. It sounded like vertigo to Toshiro, but the new recruit that they had consulted in Squad 4 was convinced it was just an ear infection. Well, he'd been right about the ear infection, but now that was gone and Ichigo was still tipsy as a new recruit after their first Christmas party.

Toshiro sighed to himself, walking out into their living room and hauling the larger man up off their floor where he lay groaning, his eyes clamped shut and his face pale as a dead eel. "That's it; I'm going and getting mint oil today. Enough of this ear infection nonsense," he grumbled, helping Ichigo into bed as the other man grudgingly crawled back beneath the covers and promptly head under his pillow where it was dark and less likely to make him ill to himself. "Just stay here and be good and I'll come home early, alright?"

Ichigo nodded from beneath his pillow, and Toshiro sighed, leaning down and kissing what little of the man's chin wasn't hidden away. He stroked Ichigo's shoulder gently, promising swift returns and comfort before departing grudgingly. But before he left, a breathy sigh of words had been mumbled from Ichigo's lips, and he'd only barely been able to catch them. "Te amo," he'd whispered, and Toshiro had smiled in spite of himself.

"Te amo etiam ignis caeli," he'd said back, feeling assured that the other would survive until his return.

6: Too Young

"Here come old Flat-Top, he come goovin up slowly, he got Juju eyeball, he one Holy Roller, he got hair down to his knee, got to be a joker he just do what he please," he sang quietly under his breath, low underneath the veil of his own boredom as he skimmed the reports in his hand.

Toshiro glanced at him out of the corners of his emerald eyes, his icy brows dipping down and up in a show of amusement. "Ichigo, you're too young to be singing the Beatles; they're almost two generations before your time."

The redhead looked over at him, his fiery brows also displaying his amusement openly. "Oh? And what should I be listening to, oh guru of music?"

The white haired man rolled his eyes, knowing that he'd obviously gotten the other off on the wrong tangent for proper paperwork to be getting done. "Maybe something that doesn't hearken back to the days of your Old Man. Or something befitting your mental age of around five," he quipped back, his words light and completely lacing acerbic intention as they left his mouth. However, he didn't realize until after they'd left his tongue that they had not come out quite as innocently as he'd intended.

But, regardless, Ichigo was laughing anyway, apparently hellishly amused by the other's statement. Toshiro himself smiled, and shook his head, enjoying the light laughter as it broke over the dark silence that had threatened to settle about their menial work. If anything, an afternoon with Ichigo in the office was never boring.

7: Too Old

"I jump into my rocket cause I'm ready to blast, I don't know where I'm going but I'm going there fast, tonight there ain't no future and there isn't a past, we'll make it like the first time so it won't be the last," Toshiro whispered to himself, as he went about their house cleaning one Sunday afternoon. He'd been waiting for Ichigo to arrive home, and had decided to busy himself with something practical. He hadn't heard the other re-enter their house, and so continued to sing absently to himself as he dusted idly.

"Talk about the pot calling the kettle black," Ichigo had quipped from over Toshiro's shoulder, causing the other to turn to face him. "Now who's the one listening to music far beyond their time."

"Pardon me?" Toshiro had asked, one of his hands settling onto his hip. He remembered their discussion earlier in the week about Ichigo singing music that was too old for him, but he couldn't quite get the correlation that Ichigo was making now.

The red headed Captain motioned at him vaguely. "Now you're singing music that's way too young for you. Seriously, Toshiro, shouldn't you be singing Brahms or Wagner or something? I mean, rockabilly? Seriously?" But by the time Ichigo had finished speaking, his serious tone had all but died, instead replaced by light chuckles that, with Toshiro's aid, quickly dissolved into laughter.

"But I do like Brahms and Wagner," Toshiro assured, knocking Ichigo upside the arm with his feather duster, successfully brushing almost the entire sleeve of his shihakusho with dust. "The German Requiem makes me cry every time."

"Ooh," Ichigo said, a smirk on his lips as he brushed off his sleeve, afterwards leaning down and planting a chaste kiss on his husband's cheek. "Sounds like fun."

The shorter man let out a snort, scoffing at his spouse's words. "You're saying you like to see me cry? That's sick," he teased, making to repeat his earlier feather duster abuse. But Ichigo caught his wrist, bringing it up to kiss the knuckles, and the silver ring clasped loyally around his ring finger.

"No," he said, kissing the ring gently. "I like being able to make the tears go away."

8: Starbucks

"What the hell is in a grande light caramel macchiato anyway?"

"It is approximately three pumps of sugar free vanilla, with sixteen ounces of steamed nonfat milk poured over it, two shots of espresso poured on top, and a small amount of caramel drizzle to embellish. Why?"

"How the hell did you know that?"

"Would you believe me if I told you your Ticket Counter Attendant told me?"

"WHAT? She's here?"

"Was here. She left as soon as she saw you walk in the door."

"God damn it! I had some questions for that bitch!"

9: Next Time

"You know, Ichigo, next time we may not be so lucky."

10: Doll

From the time when she was very young, it seemed Mikan had a strange affiliation for sharks. Ichigo could not fathom where the love or interest had come from, but it had been one of the very first words she had learned. Other than "Daden" and "Damen", because she just couldn't quite get "Mum" or "Dad". So, Akira had given her those supplemental words instead, which both Captains agreed were insurmountably cuter. But her third word ever was "sark", which they realized was a very young pronunciation of "shark".

So, for her third birthday, almost the entire Soul Society had come together to help make the little girl a doll. Not a girl, or a baby like other young girls seemed to enjoy, but a small stuffed shark. But, unlike in the World of the Living where fabrics could be purchased at leisure, the Soul Society was a tad different. Great effort went into making threads, weaving silks, and plucking the down for stuffing, and so a great effort was indeed put forth. Akira had assembled the small doll when all the supplies had been gathered, but gathering them had been half the battle.

Byakuya, somehow, had managed to find a soft, almost velvety dark navy material for the top half of the doll. He'd supplied several square yards, promising it was all he had, and imploring them to use it carefully. Then they'd gotten white silk for the belly, delivered to their door by Captain Unohana on behalf of herself and Squad 4. Next had arrived the thread; a gift from Renji and Rukia, who had made a special trip to the Rukon district to find it. And finally, a pair of little blue gem eyes had arrived in the mail from Toshiro's grandmother, and a letter promising they could be used without guilt.

So when the day came, all of the people that had put forth some kind of contribution to the doll were invited to the party. Most of them came without confirming, just because they couldn't stay away from the offer. There had been other small gifts, and their little girl had handled them and the crowd with all the expertise of someone much older than herself.

But when Ichigo and Toshiro presented their little girl, perched on the couch between Gramma and Ba'kya, with her shark, the entire room went silent with anticipation. The second the stuffed shark appeared, the little girl's eyes lit up, her tiny hands reaching out as she babbled her favorite word. The silence broken, the small crowd erupted with delighted chatter as the little girl cuddled her prized gift, petting its felt fins until Byakuya was sure they were going to fall off by the following day.

And even though the smiling faces of the assembled crowd were priceless, none could compare to the smile on that little girl's face, as she unknowingly thanked those who had bestowed her the gift, merely by loving it with all the little heart she had.

And, for all of them, that was more than enough.

11: Mark the Date

Ichigo could hear the ticking in his head; every second screaming by like a howl in the wind. His heart was thundering in his chest as his feet connected hard with the pavement he ran on, every fiber in his mixed being taxed to the limit of sanity and physical capability. But that didn't change the fact that he and Toshiro were the only ones in the entire damn city that knew the location of the bomb. Ichigo knew just how to get down there, but Toshiro was the one that knew how to disarm it.

He sprinted around a street corner, hurling himself down a flight of stairs towards the subways. He couldn't descend fast enough; every step painfully slow. The flashing lights of the station shot past him like sparks of epileptic color, as if tempting him to be distracted as he barreled the door beneath the stairs open, diving down into the darkness that was the stairs that led to the old station. The underground tunnels groaned as the pressure of newer trains passing overhead crushed their failing supports, leaving Ichigo's ears ringing and his hair littered with dust that was rocked loose from the ceiling.

He felt it before his mind had time to process what had happened. In a crush of pressure he'd been thrown off his feet, sprawling back onto the pavement yards away as the deafening noise of the explosion reverberated through the tunnel. The compacted noise left him deaf for a moment, his ears ringing in a high-pitched whine as the heat lashed at him, the orange flames retreating back down the tunnel from which they had come as the smoke began to roil in their place. He lay for a moment, the world spinning in and out of focus as he tried to balance himself on his own blindsided body.

But now, he wasn't rushing to disarm the bomb that had erupted over half of downtown Karakura. No, now he was rushing to find what had become of Toshiro, praying that the other man had survived the day they had be ruing for weeks. Because they both knew that, no matter what, something always seemed to get in the way of their anniversary.

12: Permanent

There was something numbing about injuries that wouldn't heal. Not just the sensory factor of numb, but the mental, emotional emptiness that came with scars and horrible memories. So Toshiro always found it chilling to look at Akira's empty sleeve. She'd recovered miraculously well, and had gone above and beyond expectation to even have survived the entire ordeal. But her arm, her admittedly dominant arm, had not. But there was always a kind of guilt that putrefied that numbness that Toshiro got whenever he glanced over and realized that the young woman whom had devoted herself and her life in order to save his daughter, would never again have two hands with which to hold her "niece". The damage, however inconsequential to Akira, was permanent, and Toshiro would never forget the debt he owed to her, even if she herself denied the existence of said debt.

13: School

Logan couldn't remember the last time he'd been in the middle of such a huge firefight. Hate and malice were thrumming through him at the thought of those sick bastards having the gall to attack the school, but he was too distracted by the worry of getting all of the students evacuated to let himself linger on it for too long. The adults, staff and older students included, were out on the grounds while some of the other students led the evacuation. But, much to his dismay, their two "study abroad" guests had also chosen to come out and fight off the descending firestorm that was consuming the beautiful grounds.

He'd heard them shouting to each other in Japanese, apparently making some kind of strategy as Ichigo had hauled him up off the ground he'd been knocked onto. He grumbled a thanks, glancing out of the corner of his eye as Toshiro made to pop something into his mouth. But the second his teeth closed around whatever it was, there was the ringing shot of a gun and a shot of red splintered onto the smaller man's shirt.

Logan would have been petrified, horrified, disgusted, were it not for the fact that he could see that Toshiro was no longer in that body. He couldn't have described his own shock at seeing the younger man still standing as his body fell, strange black robes billowing about him as a swallowing cold suffocated the area. He could see his own breath billowing out in front of him, rustled by the same wind that caught Toshiro's strange white coat in a dangerous flutter.

He could feel Ichigo dragging him back towards the school, where it seemed all of the other adults and older students were retreating to as well. He couldn't imagine why; especially considering Toshiro's body was still out there. And he knew that Ichigo could see him; standing there as he drew what Logan realized with a heady chill was a gleaming sword.

He could hear the steel singing in his ears as it was drawn, watching with wide eyes now that they'd stopped fleeing as Toshiro pointed the long gleaming blade towards the unyielding sky. The skies suddenly burst with cloud, and he glanced over at Storm to see her as equally flabbergasted as he was. She couldn't see what Toshiro was doing outside of his body, but she could see its effects; all of them could as the temperature plummeted yet again.

Frost crawled across the lawn, and in a roar befitting a dragon Toshiro bellowed out something to the heavens he was calling upon. As if called out by name, a great burst of undulating water and ice burst from the tip of the sword, swooping out in a hellish arc to encase the oncoming forces in a solid wall of jagged ice.

The world held still for a moment, and Logan could only hear his own labored breathing as a foreign pressure weighed down on him. He watched the smaller man settle his sword to a ready stance in his obviously experienced hands, completely ready to take on whatever came next. But he realized, as he watched the glowing, thrumming aura around the younger man flare and spike, that he, of all things, had summoned a dragon from the very pits of heaven to come and implement his will.

And if all of the Captains that Toshiro had mentioned were as strong or stronger than he, then Logan would be damned if he ever thought himself almighty again. For surely those who could call upon heaven itself and tear down walls of reality and existence, then there was no hubris to be found in the lives of men and their petty wars.

So for the first time in many years, Logan admitted to feeling vulnerable, and undeniably human when compared to these beings who so graciously walked this earth with humility and wisdom, with heaven and hell at their fingertips.

14: I Don't Understand

A clap of thunder rocked the house, every beam of solid wood creaking as the howling winds shifted outside. The rain lashed against the windowpanes; she knew it did without having to see it beyond the closed curtains. All of her senses were stretched to the maximum, her heartbeat loud in her ears. The night felt like it had been going on forever, and that morning was yet a far off concept of fantasy. Akira took a deep breath, readjusting the bundle of blanket in her lap that was little Mikan into a more shielded position. They were holed up in the Kurosaki house, the entire compound impounded by the Fu that Akira had unleashed in order to protect them.

Her Captain had given her but one order before he'd departed to battle, and she was not going to disobey him. Nor was she about to fail him. But she couldn't help but keep her grip on the young girl in her arms firm, even as she sensed the Tora Fu escort someone to the house. She knew that the Fu would not let in anyone that she had not had contact with before; so it was no stranger. She set the little girl, finally asleep after hours of panicked fear of the storm and the fact that her Mommy and Daddy hadn't come home, down on the chair behind the door, casting a paranoid glance around to make sure the house was still secure. None of the other Fu had alerted her to anything, so she could at least open the door.

When she heard the step of the Tora Fu outside the door, she opened it quietly, her eyes going wide as Captain Kuchiki approached the door. He was drenched to the bone, looking tired and dour as he looked at her with those aged gray eyes. The massive form of the Tora Fu remained close to the door, and even Akira's experienced eyes could only barely catch the glint of its yellow eyes piercing through the darkness, and the faint outline of its inky stripes against its cherry and ivory fur.

"Captain Kuchiki," she addressed stiffly, not opening the door just yet. If he intended to stay, he knew he would have to ask to be let in. If he was just delivering a message, he would deliver it and be on his way.

"Third Seat Santiago," he returned, making no move to approach the door any more than stand under the awning that enclosed the porch from the drenching rain. "I was asked by Captain Hitsugaya to inform you that he and Captain Kurosaki will be spending the evening in the 4th Division for treatment. They are relatively unharmed, but require overnight observation," he explained, his voice professional as always. But she could hear the weariness in it, and nodded slowly, hating how she would have to be the one to explain to Mikan why her Mummy and Daddy weren't home.

"Is it all over?" was all she asked before the Captain left, and he only offered a short nod over his shoulder to affirm her thoughts. With that, he let the Tora Fu escort him off the secure area that Akira had established. She closed the door, leaving the numerous facets of her zanpakuto out. She would leave them to maintain a perimeter until the Captains returned, feeling it safer.

When she closed the door fully, she couldn't help but scowl to herself. They'd all avoided it for so long. It had been avoided for longer than she thought possible, honestly. She had all but known that it would have, should have happened sooner, but was selfishly thankful that it had not. And now it had happened; now, for the first time ever, both of Mikan's parents would be gone all night. She had accepted it when one of them had been unable to come home; so long as she got to see him and so long as the other stayed home all night.

But now, neither of them would be there to comfort her in that way only parents could. It panicked Akira to think of how the little girl would react when she woke to find both parents gone, more than anything else had panicked her in her life.

When she felt a light tug on her shihakusho pant leg, her mind froze. She glanced down at the sad face of her niece, looking up at her with wide uncertain eyes. "Was that Uncle Ba'kya?" she asked quietly, and Akira would have smiled were the situation not so serious. She leaned down, picking the little girl up and sitting her on her lap as she herself sat down on the couch.

"Yes, Mikan," she answered, letting the little girl snuggle into her. "It was."

She felt the little girl's hand ball into a fist against her tummy, nervousness tingeing her already palpable Spiritual Pressure. When the little girl looked back to her, Akira knew that hammer stroke was coming. "Are Mummy and Daddy coming home soon?"

Akira tried to look at the three year old as sternly as she could, but she found she couldn't when that poor little face looked at her so full of hope. She withered, placing two comforting hands on the little girl's shoulders. "No, Mik," she said, "not tonight. They're staying with Grandma for the night. We can go see them first thing in the morning, alright?"

"Why?" the little girl questioned, her little lip quivering as she did her best to resist tears. But they were bubbling up fast; and Akira knew the wrong answer would set them on herself.

"They need her help tonight, Mik. And we can't do anything until morning."

But she knew that there was no consoling the disappointment in the little girl's eyes. But Mikan, rather than throwing a fit, just curled against Akira's shoulder, very much crying, but knowing not to throw a fuss. Akira wrapped her arms around the little girl, letting her cry in the senseless need for her Mommy and Daddy as all two year olds did. She knew that no matter what words she said, they would not make the little girl understand why her parents had to be separated from her.

Every tear that wetted her shoulder only made her heart one seam closer to tearing apart, and she vowed to herself, that day and forever, that she would do everything it took to keep that child from crying, and to keep that child from ever not being able to understand again.

15: Chef Boyardee

"This is quite possibly the most deliciously convenient thing I've ever eaten."

"What, you've never had Spaghetti O's before?"

"I thought Spaghetti O's were a Campbell's item."

"You can shut up now."

"You're welcome."

-Alrighty! I have A LOT of notes for this set, so buckle up for a few more seconds for me. First note: 1 Push and 2 Pull. These two are a completely new idea that I got whilst listening to the Secretariat soundtrack. Thus, inspired by the thought of horses, royalty, and AU, I have created this. So there you have those. Drabble 3 Twist is later explained by 12 Permanent, just in case you were wondering. Oh, drabble 4 Scold! Two notes for this one. First off, if you can tell me who that opening line is quoted from, I will give you an internet cookie. Secondly, I was listening to Hanz Zimmer's score for Inception, and "Mombasa" came on, hence the mild inspiration for that. Note for drabble 5 Ill; most doctors do mis-diagnose actual vertigo for an ear infection. Mostly because vertigo does affect the ear, and usually does cause ear infections. However, vertigo actually affects the soft tissue around your eyes, where the infection stays. Most times vertigo goes away after the ear infection is treated, but the infection around the eye is not flushed out, and can come back later on. So, one of the only ways to get rid of it is to rub one of several different kinds of herbal oils around the eye, where they sink in to the skin harmlessly and flush out the infection. Mint is one of the oils that can work, including a few others. So there's your medical fact for the day. Also on 5; they are not speaking Spanish. That's Latin biffles; go translate it and it will make you smile I hope. On drabble 6 Too Young, the song is by the Beatles. Name it and you get another cookie. Drabble 7 Too Old, the first song is by Brian Setzer, name it and I will give you cookie. Look up for yourself and enjoy either Brahms or Wagner, and the music is its own reward. On drabble 8 Starbucks: I DON'T LIE. This is actually what goes into a Starbucks grande caramel macchiato, I swear to you. I worked at a Starbucks for two years, so I would know. I have all of their recipes memorized. FOREVER. On drabble 9 Next Time, it is a prequel to Never from Set 8. Buajaja. I'm staying vague just to bug you. Drabble 10 Doll is pretty self explanatory. Drabble 11 Mark the Date was just something I wrote based on the song Countdown from the Assassin's Creed 2 soundtrack, which is amazing by the way. Drabble 12 Permanent does not relate to drabble 14 I Don't Understand. Those events are isolated. Drabble 13 School is another part of my X-Men series, yadda yadda. Drabble 15 Chef Boyardee comes from my own derpishness in thinking that Spaghetti O's were a Chef Boyardee item. I did the research, and lo and behold; I was wrong. Thus this drabble came about. PHEW! That was a lot of notes for one set of drabbles! Gah. Anyway, thanks yet again to Scarlett Foxie for donating this set; I look forward to hearing from you all again soon. Oh, and xTKx, it looks like it was me who updated next, dear. ;)

8-90s love,

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