Monthly word count - November
TOTAL: 17 700
:O gasp!
POSTED
nothin!
WIP
-bleach: psychic wolves chapter 5 (4 802 words)
-bleach: superheroes fic that i didn't wanna write nooo (2 236 words)
-bleach: ABO: the one with alpha ichigo / grimmjow and his fraccion (9 432 words)
-girl genius: daemon AU: passholdt (283 words)
-bleach: urban fantasy AU (947 words)
--
psychic wolves
--
"You told my father you'd come back with us to look for wounds," Ichigo said in a reserved careful voice. Grimmjow sneered.
"Did I?"
"... Also you stink and you have no more food."
Grimmjow looked around for the remains of the tanuki, throwing Ichigo a strong mental image of picking up torn-up meat and cracked bones off the mossy floor and gnawing at the remains. Ichigo made a noise of disgust.
"Doesn't matter. I'm going back to base."
"... That was not english."
What? He couldn't help turning just enough to frown over his shoulder, brow furrowed. "It was english, what the fuck."
"Nope! I didn't understand it, so it wasn't english."
Grimmjow could only stare dumbly as Ichigo barked something at his friend and then grabbed Grimmjow by the arms and turned him around bodily. "Wha--"
"Hey, remember how you said you were kidnapping me? I'm kidnapping you. Now shut up and come with me."
"What the fuck," Grimmjow snarled, braking with both heels and shoving back into the little turd. "Who the hell do you think you are?"
Ichig shoved back, chest to his back -- and then nipped his neck with his teeth, right next to a big, sore, pulsing ache he hadn't been paying attention to. "I'm the guy who bit you until it bled, and fucked you until it bled," he ground out, harsh and startlingly uncompromising.
A shudder, a hot flash went up his spine, down into his guts; he stopped breathing. Shit. How the hell did that little bastard still manage to turn him on? They'd spent all night fucking until it hurt. How was that even possible.
"You can't just--" he forced out through the tightness in his throat, and didn't know how to finish.
And then Ichigo said, quieter with his forehead pressed to his nape, voice broken a little; "Grimmjow, please. One hour at most."
Mother of Christ. Grimmjow hated him.
His wolf was staring at him like she was trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with him, and only figuring out it was more human nonsense. Tuxedo was at her side; Whitey stood a couple steps behind, all three staring in wary bafflement.
"Fucking fine. Pantera! Moving out."
--
superheroes AU
--
"You're late, Brother!"
Yuzu emerged from the darkness with ladle in hand. Ichigo nearly yelled, in a manly fashion.
Their dad was off at some conference and Karin had a soccer club shindig; finding the living room dark he'd thought Yuzu had gone to bed, or at least to her room to surf wholesome teenage baby sister websites that in no way contained compromising photos of pop stars with their shirts off and glitter in strange places.
Maybe she'd have been in a better mood if she had looked at some glitter today, he thought, and immediately regretted it. Nope, not going there.
"I know, sorry, sorry." Ichigo kicked off his shoes into their corner and started unbuttoning his coat as he moved briskly toward safety. "Wasn't my fault this time, there was a superhero fight right on top of the train. Dinner still good?"
"Apart from it being cold!" she threw after him as he escaped up the staircase. He wasn't even halfway up when her tone turned back to conciliant, maybe even a little curious. "Which ones?"
Phew. Yuzu appeased; safety reached. "Oh, Gamuza and Spoonhead," he called down the staircase. "She curbstomped him into the rails with all four hooves, it was beautiful. Kinda ruined the tracks, though."
He pushed his bedroom door open.
"I like how that has never been his name and yet everybody knows who the fuck you mean instantly."
He pulled his bedroom door closed.
Heart thundering in his ears, Ichigo stared at his own hand on the door handle. Was there really -- no. A hallucination. Maybe Gamuza had kicked a piece of rebar in his direction on accident and now he was in a coma or something. They were rushing him to the hospital right now. Yeah, that sounded better.
He pushed his door open again, just a crack.
"You close that in my face again and we're gonna have a problem," notorious supervillain Pantera mused, propped up on one elbow on Ichigo's bed.
--
ABO fic
--
"--Breakfast," Kurosaki says all at once, and sits up in a leap.
He drags all the blankets off with him. Grimmjow curls on the sheets like a snake and bites the nearest hanging wrist.
"--Ow!"
"Fuckin' cold!"
"Ugh, sorry, your majesty," Kurosaki grumbles back, and makes a show of tugging the comforter back up and tucking it around him. Grimmjow huffs, but settles back down in his pillow, yanking Kurosaki's pillow free to tuck it under his neck as well. Those little squishy things are so superfluous in the life he leads but fuck if they're not comfortable. He really needs to get himself a permanent set of rooms in Las Noches or dig out a cave or something so he can start stockpiling that shit. He's gonna kidnap every single one he can carry from Kurosaki's house, for starters. Teach him to have so many and make them smell so fucking good.
There's something about this line of thought he vaguely thinks he should examine, but he's in too good a mood to bother. He's safe, he's warm, his pack is healing. The rest of the world can wait on him to be done basking for once.
He listens vaguely to Kurosaki greeting his sisters and Edrad, and the clinking of plates on the counter.
"... really think that'll work for you guys? I mean it's not really a hollow steak... Guess I could go hunt one down but that's kind of gross and would probably take hours besides."
Edrad has laughter in his voice when he replies to Kurosaki, Grimmjow can tell. He sounds serious but it's his 'I'm gonna laugh in your face in another second' voice. "We can still taste it fine, we just need a lot of it to be worth it in terms of food. On the upside we don't really eat more than once a week to once a month, so I'm pretty sure he'll survive until you're done shopping."
"Yeah -- uh. Wait. Who are you talking about?"
"... I don't know, Shinigami-san, who were you going to bring this plate to?"
Silence, heavy with... Grimmjow isn't sure. He grunts into his pillow, annoyed by the suddenly-roiling feel of the reiatsu saturating the room.
"Oh my god, Ichi-nii."
"What? Don't oh my god me. What?! I wasn't -- he's -- what. Really?"
... Whatever is causing Kurosaki to splutter and squeak like that can only be ridiculous. Considering, he stretches out his legs, rounds out his back, and sits, letting the blankets pile up around his bare waist.
Kurosaki is staring right back at him, overflowing plate in hand and a poleaxed look on his face.
"What?"
"--You're an omega?!"
Grimmjow gives the slowest, most contemptuous blink he possibly can. He's been blessed with what Nelliel calls a resting bitch face to start with, he can reach pretty amazing levels of 'you're a complete imbecile' when he really tries. "You seriously didn't know that?"
"You've been in my face challenging me at every turn since we met, no I didn't know!"
"Are you nose-blind?"
"I'm not nose-blind!"
"You're a little nose-blind, brother."
"He thought Rukia was a beta for like two months."
"After that he thought she was maybe an omega--"
"She was nesting in my closet!"
"She was laying claim to your closet!"
"Oh my god," Kurosaki whines, and sinks into one of the sheet-covered chairs, still holding the plate and staring at Grimmjow. "Oh jesus fucking shit. I built you a nest in my living room."
"You built my entire pack a nest in your living room," Grimmjow corrects, and lets a smirk bloom slow and smug across his face.
--
urban fantasy AU
--
Ichigo was fourteen years old when the horns first started to grow.
There was a tied-up kid getting beat on by jerks and a treasure necklace being stolen. He went in to save the necklace and the kid, and ended up with a friend in the bargain.
Just because Chad looked a bit like a red ogre, and common wisdom (read: rumors and prejudices) said they were kind of bastards. So what if Chad had one in his family tree? He was a really cool guy. Gentle and weirdly pure, even.
So Ichigo went to bed content and when he woke up the next morning he had a pointy little button on each temple, of a height with the top of his ears or thereabout.
He tried to tell himself they were particularly gnarly blackheads but they were definitely too hard and too pointy for that. Also they wouldn't pop.
Then they kept growing anyway.
Friggin' old Dad. Ichigo knew it was his fault. Mom had manifested as a swanmane; every single memory and picture he had of hers included those startlingly huge, shimmer-pearly white wings. Ichigo didn't care how often Isshin casually mentioned that if he ever emerged he expected it to be as a komainu, given he'd once had a second cousin who blah-blah-blah. Shrine-guardian lion-dog-things didn't have bull horns.
"That does it," Tatsuki told him a week later in school, when the new points started curving forward. "You're gonna be a minotaur."
"Or a ushi-oni!" Honshō piped up, fox tail curled primly around her knees and looking like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. Which, fuuuuck her. Giant spiders with ox heads. No.
"Or a demon--" Asano started, and was silenced by like five or six hands, plus Tatsuki's long, scaly, tuft-tipped tail.
You just didn't joke about that. Like. Ever.
"If I start getting the urge to build mazes I'm losing the lot of you in the first one I finish, and then I'm walling up the exit," Ichigo grumped, and tried one last time to comb his hair out to the sides to camouflage his new, pointy growths.
(Inoue giggled like twenty minutes over that one, so in the end he gave up and left them alone, and pretended he was just too cool to care.)
------
Anyway; time went on. So did his horns. And on and on.
------
Ichigo looked right and left, and then up over the back walls for good measure; was he alone in the alley... yeah. No open windows in the neighbors' houses; Kawamura-san wasn't peeking under the drapes. He walked slowly through the puddle of light falling from the aging street lamp and peeked at the narrow path between two houses, trying to see past overgrown grass and abandoned boxes.
"Here, kitty, kitty."
He might be able to push his way across if he tried, but he'd probably rub his shoulders and elbows on the walls. Probably ding his horns too; it really was narrow, and the stupid things' span was meandering toward shoulder-width at the elbowed parts. Also, he would scare the new cat off anyway. If Yoruichi hadn't done that already.
"Kitty," he tried again, making soft kissing noises under his breath where no human could (he hoped) hear them if they happened to pass by.
There were splatters of blood right next to his foot. He eyed them with a frown. That was a lot of blood for a housecat. He didn't know whether to hope that it had killed itself some dinner.
But Yoruichi in all her dismissive, casual glory had still made sure to say the cat haunting the gap was in a sorry state.
(Then she'd stolen half the fish left on his dinner plate and disappeared through the kitchen window. Ichigo's last-ditch grab had missed the forked end of her tail by a literal hair.)
"Kitty, psst, psst," he tried again, crouching in front of the gap and leaning in, craning his neck to see under the scraggly bush.
Something white pushed through the leaves. Startled, Ichigo almost fell on his ass.
Then froze, still awkwardly balanced on his toes. Knees and calves aching, toes trying to dig in the pavement through his shoes, just one thought in his head -- couldn't run.
It wasn't a housecat.
"... I'm gonna need a bigger saucer," he said, and almost succeeded in making it sound casual.
:O gasp!
POSTED
nothin!
WIP
-bleach: psychic wolves chapter 5 (4 802 words)
-bleach: superheroes fic that i didn't wanna write nooo (2 236 words)
-bleach: ABO: the one with alpha ichigo / grimmjow and his fraccion (9 432 words)
-girl genius: daemon AU: passholdt (283 words)
-bleach: urban fantasy AU (947 words)
--
psychic wolves
--
"You told my father you'd come back with us to look for wounds," Ichigo said in a reserved careful voice. Grimmjow sneered.
"Did I?"
"... Also you stink and you have no more food."
Grimmjow looked around for the remains of the tanuki, throwing Ichigo a strong mental image of picking up torn-up meat and cracked bones off the mossy floor and gnawing at the remains. Ichigo made a noise of disgust.
"Doesn't matter. I'm going back to base."
"... That was not english."
What? He couldn't help turning just enough to frown over his shoulder, brow furrowed. "It was english, what the fuck."
"Nope! I didn't understand it, so it wasn't english."
Grimmjow could only stare dumbly as Ichigo barked something at his friend and then grabbed Grimmjow by the arms and turned him around bodily. "Wha--"
"Hey, remember how you said you were kidnapping me? I'm kidnapping you. Now shut up and come with me."
"What the fuck," Grimmjow snarled, braking with both heels and shoving back into the little turd. "Who the hell do you think you are?"
Ichig shoved back, chest to his back -- and then nipped his neck with his teeth, right next to a big, sore, pulsing ache he hadn't been paying attention to. "I'm the guy who bit you until it bled, and fucked you until it bled," he ground out, harsh and startlingly uncompromising.
A shudder, a hot flash went up his spine, down into his guts; he stopped breathing. Shit. How the hell did that little bastard still manage to turn him on? They'd spent all night fucking until it hurt. How was that even possible.
"You can't just--" he forced out through the tightness in his throat, and didn't know how to finish.
And then Ichigo said, quieter with his forehead pressed to his nape, voice broken a little; "Grimmjow, please. One hour at most."
Mother of Christ. Grimmjow hated him.
His wolf was staring at him like she was trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with him, and only figuring out it was more human nonsense. Tuxedo was at her side; Whitey stood a couple steps behind, all three staring in wary bafflement.
"Fucking fine. Pantera! Moving out."
--
superheroes AU
--
"You're late, Brother!"
Yuzu emerged from the darkness with ladle in hand. Ichigo nearly yelled, in a manly fashion.
Their dad was off at some conference and Karin had a soccer club shindig; finding the living room dark he'd thought Yuzu had gone to bed, or at least to her room to surf wholesome teenage baby sister websites that in no way contained compromising photos of pop stars with their shirts off and glitter in strange places.
Maybe she'd have been in a better mood if she had looked at some glitter today, he thought, and immediately regretted it. Nope, not going there.
"I know, sorry, sorry." Ichigo kicked off his shoes into their corner and started unbuttoning his coat as he moved briskly toward safety. "Wasn't my fault this time, there was a superhero fight right on top of the train. Dinner still good?"
"Apart from it being cold!" she threw after him as he escaped up the staircase. He wasn't even halfway up when her tone turned back to conciliant, maybe even a little curious. "Which ones?"
Phew. Yuzu appeased; safety reached. "Oh, Gamuza and Spoonhead," he called down the staircase. "She curbstomped him into the rails with all four hooves, it was beautiful. Kinda ruined the tracks, though."
He pushed his bedroom door open.
"I like how that has never been his name and yet everybody knows who the fuck you mean instantly."
He pulled his bedroom door closed.
Heart thundering in his ears, Ichigo stared at his own hand on the door handle. Was there really -- no. A hallucination. Maybe Gamuza had kicked a piece of rebar in his direction on accident and now he was in a coma or something. They were rushing him to the hospital right now. Yeah, that sounded better.
He pushed his door open again, just a crack.
"You close that in my face again and we're gonna have a problem," notorious supervillain Pantera mused, propped up on one elbow on Ichigo's bed.
--
ABO fic
--
"--Breakfast," Kurosaki says all at once, and sits up in a leap.
He drags all the blankets off with him. Grimmjow curls on the sheets like a snake and bites the nearest hanging wrist.
"--Ow!"
"Fuckin' cold!"
"Ugh, sorry, your majesty," Kurosaki grumbles back, and makes a show of tugging the comforter back up and tucking it around him. Grimmjow huffs, but settles back down in his pillow, yanking Kurosaki's pillow free to tuck it under his neck as well. Those little squishy things are so superfluous in the life he leads but fuck if they're not comfortable. He really needs to get himself a permanent set of rooms in Las Noches or dig out a cave or something so he can start stockpiling that shit. He's gonna kidnap every single one he can carry from Kurosaki's house, for starters. Teach him to have so many and make them smell so fucking good.
There's something about this line of thought he vaguely thinks he should examine, but he's in too good a mood to bother. He's safe, he's warm, his pack is healing. The rest of the world can wait on him to be done basking for once.
He listens vaguely to Kurosaki greeting his sisters and Edrad, and the clinking of plates on the counter.
"... really think that'll work for you guys? I mean it's not really a hollow steak... Guess I could go hunt one down but that's kind of gross and would probably take hours besides."
Edrad has laughter in his voice when he replies to Kurosaki, Grimmjow can tell. He sounds serious but it's his 'I'm gonna laugh in your face in another second' voice. "We can still taste it fine, we just need a lot of it to be worth it in terms of food. On the upside we don't really eat more than once a week to once a month, so I'm pretty sure he'll survive until you're done shopping."
"Yeah -- uh. Wait. Who are you talking about?"
"... I don't know, Shinigami-san, who were you going to bring this plate to?"
Silence, heavy with... Grimmjow isn't sure. He grunts into his pillow, annoyed by the suddenly-roiling feel of the reiatsu saturating the room.
"Oh my god, Ichi-nii."
"What? Don't oh my god me. What?! I wasn't -- he's -- what. Really?"
... Whatever is causing Kurosaki to splutter and squeak like that can only be ridiculous. Considering, he stretches out his legs, rounds out his back, and sits, letting the blankets pile up around his bare waist.
Kurosaki is staring right back at him, overflowing plate in hand and a poleaxed look on his face.
"What?"
"--You're an omega?!"
Grimmjow gives the slowest, most contemptuous blink he possibly can. He's been blessed with what Nelliel calls a resting bitch face to start with, he can reach pretty amazing levels of 'you're a complete imbecile' when he really tries. "You seriously didn't know that?"
"You've been in my face challenging me at every turn since we met, no I didn't know!"
"Are you nose-blind?"
"I'm not nose-blind!"
"You're a little nose-blind, brother."
"He thought Rukia was a beta for like two months."
"After that he thought she was maybe an omega--"
"She was nesting in my closet!"
"She was laying claim to your closet!"
"Oh my god," Kurosaki whines, and sinks into one of the sheet-covered chairs, still holding the plate and staring at Grimmjow. "Oh jesus fucking shit. I built you a nest in my living room."
"You built my entire pack a nest in your living room," Grimmjow corrects, and lets a smirk bloom slow and smug across his face.
--
urban fantasy AU
--
Ichigo was fourteen years old when the horns first started to grow.
There was a tied-up kid getting beat on by jerks and a treasure necklace being stolen. He went in to save the necklace and the kid, and ended up with a friend in the bargain.
Just because Chad looked a bit like a red ogre, and common wisdom (read: rumors and prejudices) said they were kind of bastards. So what if Chad had one in his family tree? He was a really cool guy. Gentle and weirdly pure, even.
So Ichigo went to bed content and when he woke up the next morning he had a pointy little button on each temple, of a height with the top of his ears or thereabout.
He tried to tell himself they were particularly gnarly blackheads but they were definitely too hard and too pointy for that. Also they wouldn't pop.
Then they kept growing anyway.
Friggin' old Dad. Ichigo knew it was his fault. Mom had manifested as a swanmane; every single memory and picture he had of hers included those startlingly huge, shimmer-pearly white wings. Ichigo didn't care how often Isshin casually mentioned that if he ever emerged he expected it to be as a komainu, given he'd once had a second cousin who blah-blah-blah. Shrine-guardian lion-dog-things didn't have bull horns.
"That does it," Tatsuki told him a week later in school, when the new points started curving forward. "You're gonna be a minotaur."
"Or a ushi-oni!" Honshō piped up, fox tail curled primly around her knees and looking like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. Which, fuuuuck her. Giant spiders with ox heads. No.
"Or a demon--" Asano started, and was silenced by like five or six hands, plus Tatsuki's long, scaly, tuft-tipped tail.
You just didn't joke about that. Like. Ever.
"If I start getting the urge to build mazes I'm losing the lot of you in the first one I finish, and then I'm walling up the exit," Ichigo grumped, and tried one last time to comb his hair out to the sides to camouflage his new, pointy growths.
(Inoue giggled like twenty minutes over that one, so in the end he gave up and left them alone, and pretended he was just too cool to care.)
------
Anyway; time went on. So did his horns. And on and on.
------
Ichigo looked right and left, and then up over the back walls for good measure; was he alone in the alley... yeah. No open windows in the neighbors' houses; Kawamura-san wasn't peeking under the drapes. He walked slowly through the puddle of light falling from the aging street lamp and peeked at the narrow path between two houses, trying to see past overgrown grass and abandoned boxes.
"Here, kitty, kitty."
He might be able to push his way across if he tried, but he'd probably rub his shoulders and elbows on the walls. Probably ding his horns too; it really was narrow, and the stupid things' span was meandering toward shoulder-width at the elbowed parts. Also, he would scare the new cat off anyway. If Yoruichi hadn't done that already.
"Kitty," he tried again, making soft kissing noises under his breath where no human could (he hoped) hear them if they happened to pass by.
There were splatters of blood right next to his foot. He eyed them with a frown. That was a lot of blood for a housecat. He didn't know whether to hope that it had killed itself some dinner.
But Yoruichi in all her dismissive, casual glory had still made sure to say the cat haunting the gap was in a sorry state.
(Then she'd stolen half the fish left on his dinner plate and disappeared through the kitchen window. Ichigo's last-ditch grab had missed the forked end of her tail by a literal hair.)
"Kitty, psst, psst," he tried again, crouching in front of the gap and leaning in, craning his neck to see under the scraggly bush.
Something white pushed through the leaves. Startled, Ichigo almost fell on his ass.
Then froze, still awkwardly balanced on his toes. Knees and calves aching, toes trying to dig in the pavement through his shoes, just one thought in his head -- couldn't run.
It wasn't a housecat.
"... I'm gonna need a bigger saucer," he said, and almost succeeded in making it sound casual.