-Rabble rabble rabble… I think I'm losing my grasp of my English sanity at the moment. College is wonderful, but majoring and minoring in two different languages is a bit difficult at times. So, I think I should get a permanent sign hanging over my head that just says "Lost in Translation" so people will be patient with me as I cycle through three language's worth of proficient vocabulary. I'm amazed that I can even still remember half of the words in English I know. Perhaps I should consult my old High School English teacher to refresh that old vocabulary… I miss a lot of those words. Like pusillanimous. I love that word. Not loathe, mind you. That would be desultory… Okay, so maybe I don't need as much refreshing as I thought. Thanks to Corisanna for this set; please enjoy them dear! … Rabble, rabble, epic long note on the bottom, rabble, rabble…

1: Daffodil

His fingers skimmed over the silken yellow petals of the flower in his hands. The stem rested lightly against his calloused fingers as he looked down in distracted fascination at the heavenly little daffodil sitting in his palms and against his fingers. It was such a simple thing, bright and forgiving as it celebrated joyously the colors that the sun gave to life's greener half.

"Penny for your thoughts."

Toshiro looked up from the flower for a moment, finding Ichigo looking down at him almost worriedly. He was sitting on the grassy knoll just beside the wall that was his favorite haunt on which to watch the sunset in Karakura. Ichigo stood behind the small rail, looking down at the young Captain as if his behavior would explain his thoughts.

Toshiro merely stood, if only to sit on the railing a bit closer to Ichigo's level. He didn't directly address the question in the other's eyes, instead just offering the small ray of sunshine resting in his grasp to the taller man.

"A flower for your heart."

2: Epiphany

Toshiro wasn't exactly a snuggling person. He enjoyed it, in spite of what he may have claimed, Ichigo knew. But he didn't need to cuddle in order to get the "warm fuzzies" as he so disparagingly called them. So Ichigo couldn't help but be surprised when, one night that they spent sitting out on their porch just enjoying the coolth of the evening, that the smaller man suddenly curled up against his side and under his chin, smiling happily as he let a cool sigh fan out against Ichigo's collar.

A bit startled, it took him a moment to put an arm around the other man due to his surprise. But when he did, he craned his neck back so he could look down at the man cuddled up to him without knocking his chin against the other's head.

"What's the cuddle for?" he asked quietly, knowing that the other would not misconstrue his statement and assume that it meant he didn't like it. There couldn't be anything further from the truth, actually, and thankfully he knew Toshiro to be astute enough to know that implicitly.

"Just had an epiphany," the other man mumbled against his collarbone, apparently totally content with not moving from his position. Ichigo wasn't about to jostle him in an attempt to get him to do so. Instead he just continued to look down at the other curiously, until it seemed the silence managed to goad his husband into looking up at him through one lazily squinted eye.

Once the other man was looking at him, he asked, "About what?"

"You got my bottle." Toshiro was still smiling, but in that gentle, loving sort of way that Ichigo only really saw every so often. He treasured that look, and let his fingers brush in long strokes across the man's fairer cheek until his palm cupped the gentle line of his chin. Just from that small statement, he knew what the other had been thinking about, and smiled back just as gently and lovingly as he sang to the other,

"Woke up this morning, don't believe what I saw: ten billion bottles, washed up on the shore. Seems I'm not alone in being alone, a hundred billion castaways, looking for a home."

3: Rough

Battle, true honest battle, wasn't something that happened every day in the Soul Society. And for decently good reason, as well. If constant battle ravaged the Seireitei, the fact is that because of the Captains' overbearing spiritual pressure, there wouldn't be one left at the end of the day.

But also, honest battle didn't usually end in a whole lot of death in the Soul Society when it did happen. No one since Aizen's time had been capable of catching the Captains off guard, or had been able to even be strong enough to entice a unified force of more than three at a time. But that didn't change that battle was rough; it tired the bystanders out, and most especially the actual combatants.

So after one battle, just one singular one where both he and Ichigo had been chosen to fight, it had come as no surprise that they decided to pass on their Friday tradition in favor of sleeping and recuperating. They did, however, lay with one another for quite a long while until they both fell asleep, ruing how rough they had it when they had it easy, and yet how easy they had it when they had it rough.

4: Video Game

"Toshiro, don't even think about it," Ichigo warned, glaring down at the other man as they exited the movie theater. Admittedly, the new TRON movie had been worth seeing. The plot wasn't Inception, but it didn't need to be. The visual effects and the fact that Daft Punk and Hans Zimmer had united under one musical score had made it more than worth the price of the ticket. But he could just tell from the faraway look in Toshiro's cerulean eyes that the young man was seriously pondering over the sciences behind what the movie had entailed.

"Too late," was all the other man muttered in reply, as he rubbed his narrow chin thoughtfully. "There's only one thing I find trouble with when it comes to computers, and all of this mystique surrounding them." His voice was strangely serious, and he looked over at Ichigo as if hoping to ask the other for his thoughts.

With that look in his eyes, though, Ichigo couldn't help but totally fall for the bait. "What's that?"

Toshiro resettled his hands into his pockets, looking up at the night sky as it wielded in nocturnes of platinum starlight against the encompassing navy of the distance abreast the planets. "Computers are a reflection of man's own ingenuity," he started quietly, keeping his gaze on the sky. "Regardless of whether or not they surpass him, they are without doubt his unique progeny. Thus, delving into the realm in which they function is comparable to delving into ourselves just as deeply."

It was then that he looked back to Ichigo. "So my question is: which road will man prefer to take? Will he rather delve into the inner workings of himself and his own condition, and forever be trapped within games that he himself designed? Or will we be more willing to take the risk of expanding outwards beyond ourselves into the games of beings and forces more omnipotent than we?"

Ichigo let the smaller man's words sink in for a moment before taking a deep breath. He closed his eyes, shaking his head and settling a hand on the smaller man's moon kissed cheek. "Toshiro," he said, looking down at the other quite seriously.

"You think too damn much."

5: Heir

The day she stepped into her father's empty office, it was the day she realized her own importance in the world. With both her father and mother gone, she was now the lone heir to the Kurosaki House, and though they had never before pressured her to do anything that she didn't approve of or didn't want to do, she could now the weight of the end of an entire Royal House resting on her shoulders.

But that didn't change the love her parents had given to her. That didn't change the consideration they had always shown towards her being her own person. So as an adult, worthy of taking responsibility, and ready to do so, she didn't shy away from the task of taking up her father's gauntlet. And she wouldn't shy away from taking up her mother's gauntlet either. She wouldn't allow either of their memories to be soiled by a despondent child.

So she felt no shame in claiming the office for her own, and felt no hesitance in filling it with books that her father, the very previous owner of the office, had gifted to her. But there were also books that were entirely her own. Volumes that were hers alone; an aside from her father that was her. And the same went for the books of her mother's; there were volumes unique to her own tastes that prevented her from having the same calmingly chill effect on the room.

And yet none of the familiarity or hominess she felt in that room once it was her own could compare to the comfort she felt in sliding that white haori over her shoulders the afternoon of her formal appointment to the Captaincy of Squad 5. She doubted that Squad 5 would know what to do with anyone but a Kurosaki around; firebrands all equally fire-headed. And yet her Hitsugaya blood cooled her shoulder, making her a dangerous mix of both that would be more than challenging enough to keep the men on their feet.

For that, more than anything else, was the legacy she had inherited as the heir to the Kurosaki House: the mandate of undying tenacity and grace that would be passed down to any heir she bore.

6: Neglected

"Toshiro, this cannot go on," Ichigo said, kissing the other's temple as the man sitting trembling in his bed scrubbed shaking hands over his clammy face. He could feel the other Captain's heart racing under his lips. It was an odd sensation, and were it any other situation than the present, it might have been interesting and even enjoyable. But as it so plainly stood now, that was neither the case nor would it be anytime soon.

"Then I can't stay here, Ichigo," Toshiro said weakly as his whole little body shook from the aftershocks of the dream. If it could even be called a dream. He'd been suffering under whatever they were ever since they'd arrived in Sapporo, though why was totally beyond Ichigo's comprehension. From what Toshiro had told him, the first one had come and gone like any dream; just a little more frightening and more than a little more disturbing.

"I can't stay here," he continued to murmur quietly as Ichigo held him.

Now it seemed they had escalated into full blown night terrors, from which he would awake gasping for breath or weeping numbly. Ichigo was distraught with worry, but Toshiro had refused to say any more than what he already had.

"Why, Toshiro?" he tried to ask as he cradled the other man into his lap, feeling confusion and hurt paint his actions for him as the midnight delirium washed over him from his own interrupted sleep. "Please tell me. Please."

Toshiro only said one thing.

"It was here."

7: Cocoa

Sometimes, it didn't take a lot to make a good memory. Most times, it took nothing at all, save for a lucky instance and a ridiculous smile. How you got there was one thing, but how it stayed in your heart was another entirely.

Thus, Toshiro always thought fondly of the time that he, Ichigo, and Chad had all gotten snowed into Chad's apartment one winter night on a visit to Karakura for the holidays. The power had been knocked out, leaving them with only so many ways to stay warm and entertained until it came back on. Thankfully Chad had been prepared for that manner of minor emergency, and the three of them had quite successfully sequestered themselves into a floor to ceiling fort of blankets that consumed almost all of the poor man's small apartment living room.

Seeing as Chad had already been in the process of boiling some water when the power had gone out, he still managed to have a good amount of decently piping water on hand. And, circumstances be damned, they weren't going to waste it. But instead of making tea like they had intended, they all unanimously agreed that cocoa was much more fitting for their shared plight.

And, to be frank, the sound of Chad's Mexican cocoa sounded much more appealing than just a plain cup of Earl Gray. Which was saying a lot, considering how much Toshiro himself adored tea. But in the end, it had still been the best decision, seeing as that from there they had proceeded to make a little chorus for themselves in their castle of blankets and pillows.

Ichigo had always commented about how much he liked the fact that Chad still played a classic acoustic guitar, and it was then that Toshiro understood why. It made for a lovely background to their probably horrendous rendition of "Hey Jude" around the battery powered lamp that Chad had placed in the center of the fort like a campfire. But thankfully the musician seemed not to mind, and was actually smiling as he and Ichigo shared a duet.

After hours of idle chatter and mellow conversing, they had finally decided to all settle down for the night. Ichigo was already snoring by the time Toshiro had returned from the kitchen, having had the grace and decency to take their mugs to the sink and wash them out so the cocoa wouldn't cake on overnight. He chuckled quietly to himself, glad to be back in the warm confines of the fort, regardless of how much the "cold" had actually bothered him.

Settling back down into his pillow stuffed alcove, Toshiro dove under his own downy blanket, thankful that Chad had an excess of them lying around. He was almost sure by that point that Chad was asleep also, though he wasn't sure because, really, how many people could actually sleep over the sound of Ichigo's cacophonous snoring? With that humorous thought in his head, he had thus let himself surrender to a few hours of sleep before they would rise in the morning and return to normal. But the night of nonsensical, quiet hanging around had been enjoyable, in a way he had never experienced before.

When he woke in the morning, he was apparently the second to do so. Chad was already up and bumping around, Ichigo still snoring lightly as he dozed between the gray haze of waking and sleeping. Toshiro rose, digging out of his blanket and pillows to find the small apartment warm once more. Obviously the power had come back on sometime in the morning, reheating the house to a pleasantly moderate temperature.

When he exited the small fort, left assembled in Chad's living room if only for their humor, he was greeted by a mug of cocoa and a small tin on the table in Chad's small kitchenette waiting for him. He went and seated himself, waiting for Chad to re-emerge. The large man did, offering a quiet good morning which Toshiro returned through a wide yawn.

"That's for you, by the way," the large man had stated, indicating to both the mug of cocoa and the tin next to it. He didn't say much else, just watching out from beneath his mop of hair as Toshiro looked curiously at the contents of the tin sitting in front of him.

Much to his surprise, it was the rest of the Mexican Cocoa that Chad had made for them, and what was currently sitting piping in his mug. He looked up to the Latino, surprised, but pleased by it nonetheless. He wasn't going to deny a gift when Chad obviously had no intention of letting him not keep it. His body language said that well enough. "Thank you," he said earnestly, earning a grunt and a nod from the man, who set back about the kitchen to make breakfast.

In the following silence until Ichigo woke up, Toshiro examined the cocoa carefully. And not just its table of contents or instructions, which were all printed in Spanish, so he couldn't do much with the knowledge anyway. But, rather, he was taking a good long look at the relationship Ichigo had with his friends. His true blue, hell or high water friends. Chad had been one from the beginning, but it had taken Toshiro a long time to get past the initial barrier to get to him. Now that he had gotten past the other man's defenses it seemed, he too was counted amongst the sparing few whom Chad viewed worth treating and protecting.

Eventually, he hoped to return the favor.

8: Marshmallow

It really was a pity in Toshiro's eyes that he didn't visit the World of the Living more often. Mostly because it was the only form of leisure he ever got, even if he was still "working" while there. But all he knew was that in the World of the Living, he didn't have an office to sequester himself in, didn't have a Lieutenant to heckle, didn't have paperwork to get buried under.

He had the open air, his sword, and the occasional Hollow to deal with.

Oh darn.

But also, in the World of the Living there were far more opportunities for him to experiment things that he had never before. Which, amongst a great menagerie of things, the idea of improving his cooking skills was indeed listed. So one spring Sunday morning, when he, Ichigo, and Chad had sequestered themselves into Ichigo's apartment, having assembled the previous night for a movie marathon that had lasted well into the morning, he decided to do just that.

He had risen earlier than the rest of them, cracking the kitchen window open to let in some cool, fresh air as the skies drizzled idly outside. There was no wind, so none of the rain blew in the window, which was why Toshiro had opened it in the first place. That, and the place really did need some airing out from the smell of the preposterous amounts of popcorn and deep fried junk food they had made the evening before.

He hadn't been thankful up until that point for Orihime's insistence on getting Ichigo cooking tools, but he couldn't have been happier that she had gotten him that crepe griddle two years back. Ichigo had only used it a couple of times; producing some edible but not phenomenal crepes.

Toshiro was bent on doing better. And so, in the wee hours of the morning, he set to the task himself, sweeping up a storm of sweet smells in the kitchen.

Both of the men that had been sleeping until about halfway through his cooking came out into the kitchen completely led on by their noses. It made Toshiro laugh as both of the larger men slumped over Ichigo's small kitchen island, mumbling almost incoherent things about how good it smelled. He had dished them both up hefty plates of his quite successfully crafted crepes, stuffed with some marshmallow spread he had found in Ichigo's cupboard. He had lightened it up a bit, so it wasn't quite so heavy, but even in its heady state of sweet he was sure that neither of them would have minded that much.

But Chad, who seemed to be awakening just a bit quicker than Ichigo, looked down in surprise at the plate, as if something about it was more befuddling than he expected. Toshiro looked at him, confused. "Do you not like crepes?" he asked, worried that he had made a mistake in assuming that he did. He knew Ichigo would eat anything but Matsumoto and Orihime's cooking if it was on a plate and in front of him, but he should have known that Chad may not work that way.

"No, I love crepes," he assured, scratching the back of his head as if embarrassed as Ichigo nudged him in the ribs with a lecherous little grin on his face. "I just don't know how you knew marshmallow was my favorite."

9: Punch

Ichigo had almost forgotten how much it bloody hurt to get a good solid punch to the solar plexus. Not to mention how much it hurt coming from someone who was trained well enough to know how to do it right. He'd known for a while that Toshiro was less proficient at hakuda than the other four points of study for the Soul Reaper ranks. It had probably come as a natural hindrance with his size from so many years of being smaller than average. And though he was more than competent at it when he needed to be, he still wasn't particularly fluent in the movements and motions that really made it useful when things wore down to the wire.

So, having taken karate with Tatsuki for more than enough years to know his head from his ass and his ass from a hole in the wall, Ichigo had taken it upon himself to help Toshiro improve his methods. The beginning of their training had shown a lot of promise; Toshiro was a hellishly fast learner, and improved swiftly. But there were some things that Ichigo could not teach him, seeing as the redhead just didn't know what it was like to have a height or size impediment. So, on some things, Toshiro had been forced to get creative on his own, bringing back to the ring said methods he had cooked up or developed in the mean time.

And, as it turned out, his creativity was more than good enough to outmatch Ichigo. Which, much to his pride's dismay, he was honestly surprised by. The younger man's progress had been staggering, and Ichigo of all people knew his capability for just about anything was impeccable, but when they'd stepped into the ring that day, where Ichigo had promptly and swiftly gotten his ass handed to him, he couldn't help but be amazed.

Mostly because the methods that Toshiro had used were ones that Ichigo had never before seen, nor knew even remotely how to defend himself against. And though his prowess had managed to save him a few strikes to the face, it had not saved him from his eventual defeat laying on the dojo floor by Toshiro's feet as he tried to catch his breath.

"Where the hell did all that come from," he wheezed out, and Toshiro offered a hand down to help the other up. Ichigo took it, knowing that the smaller man wasn't plighting him by offering assistance.

"I went and did some research on some different styles of martial arts and mixed a few," the shorter explained, wiping some imaginary dust off of his training pants. "Sorry if I caught you off guard. And I promise I didn't mean to hit you that hard."

Ichigo just snorted, rubbing at the back of his neck as his breath finally began to return. "You could at least warn me next time. Don't we have a pre-standing policy about you warning me when you've researched things?" he asked, looking down at the smaller Captain rather accusingly.

Toshiro laughed lightly. "Indeed we do. I'll keep that in mind for next time."

10: Kick

It had been a bad idea to try and catch Toshiro off guard with their witty banter. A very bad idea. It probably would have been a bad idea to try and catch him off guard in the first place, but Ichigo honestly had not done it out of vindictive, prideful hurt. He'd done it to test and see how well these new methods of Toshiro's held up when he was surprised.

As it turned out, Toshiro wasn't surprised all that easily, and his methods held up flawlessly.

"Ichigo you should really try better timing when it comes to your "subtle" attacks," Toshiro advised from his standing perch once more as Ichigo tried to untangle his legs. The hook kick to his ankles had more than sufficed in sending him absolutely crashing to the floor in a discombobulated heap. And, thankfully, by that point Ichigo had gotten the idea that the match was really over. That did not, however, fix his predicament in finding which way was up and which joint was supposed to go where.

"I'll keep that in mind for next time," he grumbled into the floor, but couldn't help his grin as Toshiro smiled too.

11: Empty

Toshiro always hated being drugged for medical procedures. He despised it, because the drugs had the horrible effect of making his mind feel empty. His thoughts were always traveling at a thousand miles per hour; a constant stream of cognizant and non-cognizant observation and analysis. And the drugs, purposefully meant to numb and calm, robbed him of his ability to do that. And rather than calm him down, it really only ended up worrying him, as much as his limited mind could worry under their effects. So as much as he revered and feared Captain Unohana and her skills, he also hated what it did to him until he was fully healthy and could run from the place as soon as possible.

12: Full

Ichigo always hated when Toshiro went under the knife. He knew that Toshiro also hated it when Ichigo went under the knife, but unlike Toshiro, Ichigo did not have a fear of surgery or its effects on his mental status. He'd lived with his father for long enough to understand and accept these things for what they were. And thus he knew that Toshiro didn't have to worry about his fear. Ichigo, on the other hand, knew for a fact that Toshiro hated going under, and thus always worried about the other man's fear. His mind would fill with swirling thoughts and trepidations, until he was sure he would think himself to death. Or be the death of someone else unless his spouse's procedure was finished. Most of the time it was restorative surgery, to close a wound or re set a rib. But regardless of what it was, it did not change the fact that it put Toshiro in a situation that he did not like, and that was not okay by any stretch of the imagination to his husband. Thus, while Ichigo would pace the halls outside, his head would be full of silent prayers for the safety of his husband, until he could see with his own eyes those shining blue eyes he knew so well.

13: Prompt

There was a moment of silence after the proclamation had been made, a silent breath's worth of time that stretched on forever before Karin interrupted.

"Just kiss him already!"

Ichigo didn't need more instruction or prompting than that to sweep his newly declared husband up off his light little feet and up into his arms for what would forever be the most passionate kiss of his life.

- I don't know if you guys are helpful or totally unhelpful at the moment! You pretty much all told me last chapter to do what makes me happy, which gave me a case of the warm fuzzies for like, the entire damn WEEK, but it also set me to a rather big problem when faced with what makes me happy: writing. Thus, having come to that indecision, I have decided to just take on the task of working on all 3 of my projects at once! Well… not really at once, I suppose, because they will each go one week at a time. See, in a regular 4 week month, I'll update Burn to Black one week, My Darkness Are You Lonely? another week, and then a set/sets of drabbles during the other weeks. Sound fair? So that way you'll still be getting updates and I'll still be happy. Though, if I followed Ink on Ice's advice and did what made her happy, meaning stop, I'd be making both all of you and me unhappy. So I won't be doing that; sorry Inky. Anyway, I'm not sure when I'll have the 1st chapter of MDAYL up, considering I'm still mapping out the plot because it's so big. I'll do my best to have that charting done by the end of this month, though. So perhaps… first chapter sometime in March? I know: I'll post the first chapter the week of my birthday! Or at least I'll try. Burn to Black will also be updated… probably sometime within the next week or so (hoping to get it done this weekend while I'm home for the long weekend, but that may just not happen). Oh, and: I STILL NEED PROMPTS! Especially now that I'm going to be moving onto my next set of 300 drabbles. You guys are going to have to step up your game if you want me to continue! I can't do it without your contribution! So if you have any hair brained ideas, please hand them over to me! And don't forget to let me know if you want to do a Guest Drabble too! I'd love to see your interpretations of any of the crazy ideas I spew off. Anyway, needless to say I won't be updating until I get that last set of drabbles; because I haven't had any donated. Big incentive, eh? Anyway, enjoy the rest of your week, biffles. Post Valentine's bloating from chocolate overdose and all that jazz. I know I'm still seeing chocolate, though the rosy colored hue of puppy love is only applied to my one true love: Lazuli, my Vaio. He was my Valentine. ^w^

8-90s love,

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