-I'm starting off this set of drabbles in kind of an off mood, so I hope that over the course of writing them that I'll feel better. Usually writing helps me relieve… befuddled-ness, so it should help out a bit. Maybe after I write a few of this set donated by xTKx I'll be actually able to do all ten billion tons of homework I have to get done this week. Seriously; I have not had a week this busy in a LONG time, but I suppose it was to be expected. College midterms, blegh. Anyway, I obviously didn't get all 200 drabbles done by the end of February like I had liked to, but I will get them done by the end of this week, midterms or no. Then, next week, I will either be working on Chapter 9 of Burn to Black, or the first chapter of my new fic, but I may save that for the last week in March. We will see. Anyway, thanks to those who have been donating prompts; I have loads of them to start off my set of 300, and I'm really looking forward to all of them. Please feel free to continue donating; I do keep track of them all in my little system, and I have PLENTY of slots left. But know that you may have a bit of a wait until they're posted because I have so many. But I promise, I will get to them all at some point!

1: One

"You're the only one for me."

"That was bad. Really, really bad."

"It's not as bad as last Easter when I got you that "Somebunny loves you" T-shirt."

"Touché."

2: Memory

Toshiro wasn't sure why he could never really sleep in the Kurosaki household in the World of the Living. Hell, he could sleep at Chad's place for Heaven's sake, but not Ichigo's own house? It was almost preposterous. But the fact was that he always felt like it was going to sleep on top of someone's grave; a person whose memory he had no right to defile with pleasantries. Which was probably just as preposterous a thought, but he just couldn't shake it no matter how hard he tried to do so. It hadn't even been spawned out of having done something wrong, or having done anything at all to offend any of the living Kurosakis to have even brought up such a notion. It was just his own want to not… disturb, to not cause undue harm, that brought the restlessness about.

That reason was why he was sitting alone by himself one rainy night in late July, nursing a cup of slowly cooling lemon ginseng tea in the dark along with his exhausted thoughts. He had left the lights off on purpose, in hopes of not bothering anyone by being up at two in the morning.

When the kitchen light was flicked on, he was alerted to the fact that his attempt had been failed.

He clamped his eyes closed, the bright flash of light almost brutal on his nocturnally acclimated vision. He cracked one eye open, searching through the still blinding glare for the figure of the person who had discovered him. Finally his vision cleared, and he was left staring down a surprisingly awake-looking Karin Kurosaki, still clad in pajamas and slippers.

"You're down here again tonight, huh?" she asked, walking across the hardwood floor of the kitchen, her slippers skiffing against the floor with each lazy stride, over to where he sat at their table. She sat down across from him, her eyebrows rising in an amused, yet worried angle. "Can't you even sleep when you're on vacation?"

The presumption caught Toshiro a bit off guard, and he laughed quietly, shaking his head. "Usually I can," he said, looking back up at her calmly. "I suppose I've just got a lot on my mind. I'm sorry if I've woken you for the past few nights."

The black haired young lady rolled her eyes, settling back in her chair as she looked at him keenly from across the table. He knew then that she knew plenty well that he was a bloody liar, and it surprised him how little it took for her to realize. "You may be able to fool your subordinates with that kind of crap, Toshiro, but no Kurosaki under this roof is going to buy it," she said, her tone softening a bit. "Besides, you having a lot on your mind is a standard feature for you; thinking more than you usually do would have to be fatal. But with the way you look right, maybe that's actually plausible."

He chuckled again after a light wince, trying to lighten her serious yet teasing mood. "That's a bit harsh, don't you think?"

"You look like Hell, Toshiro. Go to bed."

"Believe me, Karin, going and lying in bed won't solve any of my problems at the moment," he assured, taking a slow swig of his tea. It took on an almost bitter tang now that it was cool. "Only some thinking will, which is what I am down here doing. So you can stop fretting and get back to bed before your father wakes up and we're all in for it."

"What are you thinking about, then?" She was way too smart for his current state of sleeplessness. Or perhaps just too tenacious. But at that point he couldn't tell the difference between her outsmarting him through sheer wiles or amount of available energy any better than he could dig sense out of quantum math.

So, he decided to just be honest and save himself the energy.

"Your mother."

The silence following let him know that statement had thrown a serious curveball at the young lady sitting across from him. She stared at him, wide eyed and opened mouth for a long moment, before he looked away, almost ashamed at having mentioned the topic. Apparently it was still a bit of a sore spot, a taboo for the family, and he should have known better than to tread on that sacred ground.

After that quiet stretched out into silence, and after the thunder had roared its lament outside, Karin spoke again. "What were you thinking about her?" she asked tentatively, her voice genuinely curious rather than melancholic, which surprised Toshiro. He looked back at her, seeing that honest confusion in her eyes that let him know she wasn't hiding emotions from him.

And now he didn't have anything to say. He floundered with his own molasses covered cogs for a moment, willing them to turn and perhaps produce an idea forth, but eventually he gave up and just let the words sitting on his tongue speak for themselves. "I suppose I always get like this whenever I say here," he said, rubbing the pad of his thumb around the rim of his porcelain mug. "I can never seem to sleep, because I feel like I'm intruding somehow. That just by being here I'm pushing myself to fill in a place that I don't belong in, and that no one will ever be able to fill." He shook his head, looking away again because he could barely stand himself for saying such words, let alone be able to take in the look Karin was surely giving him. "I feel like I should just stay outside, and leave the peace in this house as it is, rather than disturbing it."

Much to his surprise, silence didn't have the chance to descend again; it was instead filled with Karin's speaking, and one of her sport-calloused hands on his arm, warm and reassuring.

"Toshiro, no one can ever take away from the peace inside this house," she said, her words sure and slow. "And your presence here only adds to that peace, by bringing so much joy to my brother, and to the rest of us too. Don't you understand, Toshiro? You being here is exactly the future that my mother would have wanted all of us to see. She would have wanted us to bring people we love back into this house, people who share in the peace and add to it when they're here. She would have wanted the memory of this joyous place of safety to live on through those we connect to."

He couldn't not look at her when she was speaking, and the second he looked at her face, her words were what trapped him there, preventing him from looking away again. Now, he was the one staring with wide eyes, trying desperately to hang onto her words.

He had never thought of it that way.

He had to shake his head once she had stopped speaking to keep the tears out of his eyes, and when he looked back at her, his vision was blurred. His throat was tight, but in the kind of way that made one think differently about the reactions the body gave to joy. Karin was smiling, widely; proudly.

"You understand now, don't you, Toshiro?"

He nodded, pulling his arm back and brushing the pad of his thumb against the moistened crook of his eye. She patted him on the shoulder, standing up and waiting for him to do the same. He did, picking up his mug, still with the last swigs of dark tea and tea leaf dust swirling in the bottom. He set it down on the counter, feeling his tire, and the calmness he'd been missing, settle in on him. He would take care of it in the morning.

"You ready to finally go to bed?" she asked, waiting for him at the base of the stairs with her hand perched on the light switch. "Or are you going to stay up all night thinking about what I just said?" she asked teasingly.

"No," he said, "and only if by "going to bed" you mean passing out and staying that way until I can see straight." She laughed, flicking the light off once again as the house plunged into quiet silence, save for the rain pattering against the windows. He bid her a thankful farewell in the hallway, ducking into Ichigo's room quietly and letting the door slip closed behind him as he padded over to the bed.

Ichigo was sprawled across the whole thing, and Toshiro would have laughed if he didn't want to wake the other. Instead he just shook his head to himself, taking a deep breath and sitting down on a clear patch of the edge of the bed. Okay, so perhaps he was going to think, if only for a little while.

Or so he thought, until a warm arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him under the chin of his drowsy boyfriend. This time he did chuckle lightly, knowing that Ichigo was at least semi-cognizant.

"Karin's good with words, huh?" he heard the ginger mumble into his hair. He nodded an affirmative, letting himself be snuggled against. With his head on the pillow and his mind finally relaxed enough for the first time in the five days since they'd arrived, he was seriously seconds away from hibernation. "Don' ever feel like you're unwelcome tho', Toshiro. You might as well be part a' the family now."

"I'll try to remember that from now on," he answered, before finally letting himself sink into the sleeps deep as the oceans, and the dreams overseen by Morpheus himself, finally content with this world, and his own little place in it.

3: Hair Straighteners

"Toshiro, are you sure this is safe?"

"Yes, Ichigo, I'm positive. Please stop fretting, you're distracting me."

"But it's… hot isn't it? It could burn her."

"Dad, relax! Mom's not gonna burn me!"

"I'm just trying to be cautious!"

"About a hair straightener? Come on, Dad."

"Just ignore him, Mik. He's just put out over the fact that at age 18 you finally have a date and want to gussy up. You being so grown up just has him scared."

"'M not scared…."

"You wouldn't be giving your daughter bear spray for her purse if you weren't."

4: Calendar

The only real mainstay in Captain Hitsugaya's office was an enormous desk calendar. Admittedly it changed with each passing year, but the fact was that he always had one on his desk. Everything else in the office was subject to change. The books on his shelves went through rotation; volumes coming and going almost as they pleased. The furniture would change also. Admittedly with less frequency than other items, but the fact stood that they got worn down from Matsumoto sleeping on them all the time, and occasionally got broken from her tumbling over them in her frequent drunken stupors.

But the most defining feature about the calendar that was perpetually on Toshiro's desk, was the fact that every day but one was crammed full of his tiny and immaculate handwriting. So it always looked strange, when that month rolled around, to see every other day, just like in every other month, jam-packed with his tiny notes. But that one day, just that one, remained purposefully perfectly clean, clear, and un-harangued by other tasks, duties, or responsibilities.

And, to anyone that didn't know that date, it would seem odd to have such a miscellaneous date held in such obvious reverence. But for those who did know him, it was an easy query, seeing as the only day he consistently took off throughout each passing year was his own anniversary, and that was a more than acceptable date to keep clear on his calendar, considering how big of a deal his partner made out of the event.

5: Lock

Toshiro always said it was a moment he couldn't define. Ichigo always said it was a feeling he couldn't define. Between the two of them, the only thing that anyone could ever be sure of about the moment they realized it was that neither of them, in spite of being very intelligent young men, had the words to describe it.

But when Ichigo asked, Toshiro would tell him the only words he did have. And when Toshiro asked, Ichigo would reciprocate, and give the other man the only answer he'd ever been able to think of.

As it turned out, their answers were surprisingly similar. It was the collective feeling of something having coming unlocked; something being opened and let loose, only to be tied down by the enticing thought of something greater and more beautiful. In the same moment that both Ichigo and Toshiro realized the thing between them had grown into the strongest four-letter-word the world had ever known, both of their hearts had come unlocked, and then locked around each other.

6: Staples

"Isshin, would you please calm down," Toshiro growled, kneading his temple with a bony knuckle as the eldest living Kurosaki fussed over the gash on his gigai's leg. "I just got clipped on the sidewalk. There's really no need to get so worked up."

"Toshiro, this wound isn't "just a clip". You may need some skin staples," the older man said, sounding serious and scandalized all at once. Though why he would be the one feeling scandalized was beyond Toshiro's reckoning, but that was beyond point or topic at the current time.

With a glance over to Ichigo, who was sitting on the windowsill looking absolutely green, Toshiro forgot about his Father in Law's trepidation over the wound that really was probably a lot more minor than it appeared. He frowned sympathetically at the former Substitute's queasy expression, reaching out to rest a hand on his forearm. The redhead's glance snapped down at him in surprise as he returned to reality and away from his probably roiling stomach. Toshiro knew how much Ichigo hated to see him in pain, and this accident was surely no different for him.

"I'll be fine," he assured, smiling weakly at the ginger's questioning leer. "I promise. Wounds heal, scars shrink. It's nothing that can't be fixed."

Ichigo shook his head, leaning down and burying his face in the hair atop Toshiro's snowy head. "Dun care," he said miserably. "Pretty legs like yours don't deserve skin staples of all things." A shudder ran over Ichigo's shoulders, and Toshiro then understood the entire ordeal.

Reaching over, he swatted Isshin upside the head, glowering at him as the man looked on in faux surprise. "Stop scaring him, you sadistic Old Goat," he growled, knowing he'd caught the father red handed in the act of torturing his son when the former Captain laughed, blushing and scratching at the back of his neck bashfully in the same way that Ichigo did.

"Sorry, Toshiro," he said, shrugging as if trying to weave his way out of the accusing glare still simmering in his direction. "I have to pick on him when I can, you know?"

"Regardless," the current Squad 10 Captain said, swatting at him again, his petulant glare remaining, "now is not the appropriate time or place for such things. Just clean me up, put some bandages on, and let us go to lunch already."

7: Poster

In spite of being unabashedly fond of his long time friends, Ichigo wasn't the biggest fan of their son. Admittedly Rukia and Renji were wonderful authority figures, and the boy knew his place well enough. But when with those he considered trustworthy, he was sometimes disrespectfully open. Or, perhaps it was only that way to Ichigo, because he couldn't help the fact that the little heathen that his two best friends had named Reno upon his birth was his daughter's best friend.

Thus, he couldn't help but find it frustrating one night at dinner at the Abarai house, after Mikan had departed with Toshiro for a meeting and some late night filing, Reno had made a completely open comment about her.

With a fish rib still between his teeth, he'd muttered, "She's just a poster child, isn't she?"

Thankfully he was old enough to handle a slug over the back of the head from the Squad 5 Captain now. Which he promptly got after the comment, only causing his parents to laugh at his plight. "She is not a poster child!" Ichigo had defended angrily, not willing in any manner to deal with whatever implications that entailed.

"Yeah she is!" the younger Soul Reaper defended, rubbing sorely at his head after having shot his parents a half-assed glare. "She's the poster girl for perfection in the Soul Society, and everyone bloody knows it! That and the camera is just a bit too fond of her."

It was only because Renji caught his hand that Ichigo didn't clap the younger man another one. Renji was laughing good naturedly, even as his son tried to cover up the flinching cower he'd just pulled in reaction to the secondary attack. "Come on, Ichigo, chill out. Reno's just kidding around."

"Besides," Rukia said from across the table, flicking a bored glare at her former Substitute companion, "Mikan has grown into a lovely young lady. You can't run from that fact forever, you know. One of these days you'll have to get used to boys coming looking for her."

Reno shrunk behind his father again as Ichigo sent him a broiling glare, squeaking out a hurried promise. "Not me, not me! We've been friends forever, I wouldn't do that kind of thing! It would be like dating my sister!"

"Fine, just make sure it stays that way," Ichigo grumbled, turning back to his post-dinner coffee. "And she's still not a poster child."

8: CD

In spite of having been married for so many years, Ichigo always looked forward to their anniversary. Mostly because, each year without fail, Toshiro would find a way to surprise him with a beautiful gift. Ichigo would have sworn to the fact that after hundreds of anniversaries, the smaller man would have had every right to have run out of ideas. And yet, he hadn't, even on the years when Ichigo found himself totally estranged from any clue as to what to get or even do for his partner. But even on those years, Toshiro would always smile anyway, totally happy with just the time they had together, regardless of whether or not Ichigo actually agreed that it was enough of a gift.

But half the fun with Toshiro's gifts was that, every year, without fail, Toshiro made Ichigo work for them. Not work for them by doing menial tasks or favors, but work for them by making him go through the entire process of finding them based on little clues the man would leave lying about his office, usually in the form of little notes or markers.

This year, it started out with a sticky note stuck to the framed photo he had of them on the ski lift on their honeymoon. The bright yellow little tab of paper read, "Get going, lard ass, you're burning daylight. Life's not a picnic, you know. –Love, Toshiro".

At least by that point Ichigo knew how to pick up on contextual words that Toshiro used whenever he left notes. At first it had been difficult for him to decipher how it was supposed to be a clue, but over the years…decades…centuries, he'd slowly gotten the hang of noting which word was supposed to be accented enough to be considered the clue.

But this year, it seemed, his guessing skills had gotten rusty, because it had literally taken him the entire rest of the day to search out all of the clues (admittedly Toshiro had been more wily this year that in years previous). But in the end, the clues led him back to where he had started; his own office. Which, by this time in the evening, was quiet and empty after the majority of the division had gone home. He growled to himself, cursing Toshiro for making him late to their own customary anniversary dinner.

But the tiny little gift, wrapped in muted paper on his desk, drew him away from his own frustration and back to the prize he had been seeking all along. He was made curious by its shape, considering it looked almost exactly like a CD case. He picked it up gingerly, rocking it in his hands and hearing the familiar plastic clink of a disk inside the case. He pried the brown paper open carefully, not wanting to rip any notes it may have had on the inside. Thankfully there weren't any, but there was text on the front of the CD case.

"I once told you that I couldn't sing.

You discovered otherwise for yourself,

So in trade for that and my ring,

I'll give you a piece myself."

Ichigo stared in wonder, opening the case and staring in at the CD enclosed within, with the name of each song written in Toshiro's sweeping yet immaculate handwriting inscribed on the disc. He couldn't help but clasp a hand over his mouth, recognizing the titles from some of the songs he'd seen in Toshiro's leather bound notebook; songs that he himself had written. He sagged against his desk, smiling a mile wide as he took out the small pamphlet that the front of the case had in it. He glanced over the lyrics, the designs on each page, before his eyes drifted to the sticky note still on the picture on his desk.

But this time, he noted a bit belatedly, the sticky note was different.

"I love you." it read, and Ichigo smiled, reaching over to peel it off and stick it on his treasured CD, only to find that it had another one behind it. He peeled the front one off carefully, laughing out loud when he saw what was written on the one behind it.

"Now hurry up and get home. Dinner is getting cold."

9: Butter

The only person in the history of the world that Toshiro knew of that was capable of melting Byakuya Kuchiki's heart just so happened to be his daughter. Every so often they would ask the Kuchiki Clan's Head to babysit her; a task which he never once said no to. The first time they had, both Ichigo and Toshiro had presumed that Byakuya would at least hand their daughter off to some housemaid who knew how to care for children; knowing that he was a busy man with his own division to manage.

But they were both of them proven wrong when the reappeared that evening at the beautiful Kuchiki mansion, only to find Byakuya himself traipsing about the yard with their toddler daughter, still wide awake and giggling as her uncle "chased" her. The two of them had watched, stunned and wholeheartedly amused as the mean old Captain of the 6th stepped forward with a long stride to scoop up and catch the wily little girl with a quietly proclaimed "Gotcha!". The little girl squealed happily in spite of having lost the game, wrapping her arms around her uncle's neck in a hug that almost visibly melted the cold man's heart.

"He's just a puddle of melted butter whenever she's around, isn't he?" Ichigo had quipped to him with a smile, and Toshiro couldn't help but agree, nodding absently as their little girl snuggled herself under the Kuchiki's chin and against his shoulder, leaving him with an armful of cute he was too weak to steel himself against.

10: Claw

"What the hell got a hold of you?" Toshiro asked, the towel slung over his own shoulders still damp from the shower he'd just gotten himself buffed from.

Ichigo looked far less pristine than he probably did, covered in several bruises, welts, and a set of scratches just under his jaw. But he had that sweat-sheen complimented afterglow of a productive workout gone right.

"Mutton-chops got me with a cheap shot," he replied, waving off the young Captain's skeptical look and heading towards the bathroom of their shared dorm room. "I'll just wash it off and patch it up and it'll be fine."

Toshiro snorted, tossing down his towel and grabbing the other by the baggy sleeve of his sweatshirt. "You idiot. A little Band-Aid isn't going to fix that; you need stitches. And I'll freeze hell over before I let you try to stitch up your own damn chin." Thus, he hauled the other back into the slowly cooling bathroom, sitting him down on the edge of the tub and rooting around for their first aid kit.

"C'mon, Toshiro, I'm not that bad," the larger man pouted a bit, sounding a bit befuddled at the same time. "Besides, I don't see what you're so worried about. A couple of small scars wouldn't kill me."

Toshiro looked back to him with a mildly raised brow. "No, but your face is already a spiraling case; I can't you tote it around any more damaged than it already has."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ichigo asked indignantly, halfway standing at the thought of the jibe being serious.

"Means you're not only a sore loser, but cute when you're angry. And the last thing I want is for a few misplaced scars to mess with my smile," Toshiro answered, calming the other down quicker than even he would have thought possible.

11: Network

"Hey, Toshiro, you should get a Facebook sometime."

"Why would I do that?"

"All of the Captains have Divisional computers with access to the internet now, don't they?"

"Yes. How that works exactly I'm not sure, but I suppose that's true."

"Well, if you set up a Facebook, I can keep in contact with you without having to call you everyday."

"I'm not seeing the immediate perks to this plan, Ichigo."

"Essential I can just talk to you more often with less effort."

"Still not seeing the point."

"I want to show you off to all my friends, because they're convinced you don't exist."

"Now that's a little better. But I still don't see why-"

"Please?"

"Alright, alright. I'll set one up."

"Uh… no need."

"And why is that?"

"Because I already made one for you."

"Ichigo, I swear to God-"

"You're welcome."

-I can't tell whether or not I'm pleased with this set yet. Mostly because I've just suffered through a week of hormonal midterms and I'm trying to catch up on my sleep and my ever elusive sanity. Though I don't have high hopes of catching that cheeky bugger anytime soon. Regardless, here you are xTKx, I apologize if they're off kilter; I will try to do better with any sets you donate in the future. I'm hoping to get 200 finished either tonight or tomorrow with my last set, and then forging ahead onto 300. But, first, this next week I will be working on and hopefully posting the first chapter of my new fic, My Darkness Are You Lonely. I'm very excited about it, because it's about the closes thing I'll ever be able to get to a domestic mystery setting (and even then, it's still got ghosts involved, so that whole "non-fantastic" domestic theme I was going for kind of fell through). I really hope that you guys enjoy it. In any case, thanks to those who have donated, for those of you new readers, please feel free to donate; I'm always looking for prompts, and I look forward to seeing all of you soon.

8-90s love,

crypto