#Long hair ichigo supremacy

[wahhbajack]

Something comforting about Kubo letting us see Ichigo and the gang 10 years later in the manga. I hope the anime does it too. Like you get to see little Kazui amd Ichika and all of the gang. Also it's canon that Ichigo misplaces his literal child 😭 Dad of the year.

Tho i dont agree w Sado becoming a boxer tbqh. Using his fists for profit just doesn't seem like something he'd do.

Anyway, 15 y/o me got to crush on 17 y/o Ichigo. And 27 y/o me gets to crush on 27 y/o Ichigo who has a doofy haircut. I also crush on Keigo in his lil ramen shop. Go little silly entrepreneur.

[imperial--orthodoxy]

You know the drill:) :) :)

1-50 weird asks and GO

who is/are your comfort character(s)?

I don't know if "comfort" is the right word, but right now it's probably Ichigo Kurosaki from Bleach and...Boromir from LOTR. Ichigo is currently my favorite main character period and Boromir is....well. He's a deeply flawed character that tries and fails and tries again and manages to do good at the end of his life and I hope I'm able to do the same before I die.

lighter or matches?

I'm a certified pyromaniac, so the answer is yes. I prefer lighters for cigarettes and cigars though, whereas matches, I like launching them off of the lighter strip.

do you leave the window open at night?

Up north, open. Down here...closed. Permanently closed. I hate the weather down here.

which cryptyd being do you believe in? All of them. Skinwalkersmustdieskinwalkersmustdieskinwalkersmu

what color are your eyes?

Blue/Grey

why did you do that?

You think *I* know???

hair-ties or scrunchies?

...niether

how many water bottles are in your room right now? ....none

which do you prefer, hot coffee or cold coffee?

Hot tbh

would you slaughter the rich?

some of them

favorite extracurricular activity?

back in school it was band tbh and I can and should be bullied for it

what kind of day is it?

today was a long day at work unfortunately

when was the last time you ate?

just a couple of bars when I got home since it's a fasting day

do you love the smell of earth after it rains?

yes

are you a parent? (all answers qualify)

(sorta, not to term yet)

can you drive?

Yes, ignore my friends that say I drive like a maniac I am completely fine I am not an adrenaline junkie I am not -

are you farsighted or nearsighted?

near sighted

what hair products do you use?

whatever is on the shelf. I used to use old spice but I think it's been giving me a reaction lately

imagine we’re at a sleepover, would you paint my nails?

....I don't think you want me to do that

do you say soda or pop?

yes

something you’ve kept since childhood?

a lot of my books tbh. some of those are in uh...not great shape to my shame

what type of person are you?

I am a piece of shit

how do you feel about chilly weather?

winter supremacy or die

if we were together on a rooftop, what would we be doing?

sniping off politicians

Ideally if there's not a lot of light pollution I do love looking at stars

perfume/body spray or lotion?

spray, since I'm lazy

a scenario that you’ve replayed multiple times?

only all of them

about how many hours of sleep did you get?

Like....5?

do you wear a mask?

nyet

how do you like your shower water?

warm

is there dishes in your room?

no

what type of music keeps you grounded?

church hymns tbh

do you have a favorite towel?

nah

the last adventure you’ve been on?

Hmmmm....good question. The last big one was the honeymoon to Colorado

is there a song you know every word to by heart? They're all metallica songs but several

what’s your timezone?

Central US

how many times have you changed your url?

a stupid amount of times

someone in your life, other than a relative, you’ve known for 10+ years?

Not you yet, but all of my best friends from high school are still my friends now with 3 of them even being my groomsmen

a soap bar that smells good?

I...don't know actually lmao

do you use lip balm?

nyet

did you have any snacks today?

yes

how do you take your coffee?

depends - if it's typical shit coffee, cream and sugar. If it's good coffee, black

an app you frequently use besides this godforsaken site?

Bleach Brave Souls, does that count?

what’s your take on spicy foods? I love them

you get a free pass to kill anyone, who is it?

*REDACTED* nice try FBI

can you remember what happened yesterday? More or less!

favorite holiday film?

This is cheesy as fuck, but probably The Polar Express or Year Without a Santa Clause

what was the last message you sent?

I think it was me letting my coworker to let me know if I could do anything for him since his mother passed away

when did you first try an alcohol beverage?

Uhhhhhhhh....I think it was as a teenager from my Grandfather, or wine from my mother

can you skip rocks?

I can't, unfortunately. I ain't gonna lie, I'm kinda retarded

can i tag you in random stuff?

No you fuck - OF COURSE YOU CAN

ALSO YOU'RE LUCKY I LOVE YOU

[johannepetereric]

REBLOG if you believe in Long-Haired Ichigo Supremacy

[renjinobankai]

Another byaren fanfiction I found

Joy (joyinthedance)

2006-06-11 23:42:00

Title: “Captain Material”

Characters: Byakuya x Renji

Rating: NC-17, maybe.

Word Count: 2490

Warnings: Spoilers through end of Soul Society arc, and oh yeah, yaoi.

Disclaimer: If these guys were my property, I’d be happy for life. ^_^

Summary: This is just my take on how the definition of hotness (aka ByaRen) began.

Damn that Kurosaki Ichigo! Thanks to the boy’s interruption that day in the healing ward, Abarai Renji had never told his captain the really cool line that had been on the tip of his tongue. Afterwards, he had chickened out and made up some throwaway comment, because really, it didn’t sound that cool. It sounded pathetic. Pathetic to think that a street rat from Rugonkai could so much as lay a finger on the Kuchiki heir without throwing off the balance of the universe, much less confess the fact that his long obsession with surpassing his captain was more than mere rivalry. Renji was certainly competitive, but this passion went deeper than a drive to be the best, deeper even than the desire to show the frustratingly snobby noble that class did not determine ability. He had never realized what his feelings meant until Rukia’s rescue, but now it was impossible for him to deny them. However bitterly, however hopelessly, it was true: Renji was in love with Kuchiki Byakuya.

* * *

The Sixth Division captain was seated at his desk, facing a tidy but daunting stack of paperwork. Business had just begun to return to normal after the chaos surrounding the Aizen debacle, and the serious injuries both he and his lieutenant had suffered only compounded the problem. Being behind drove Byakuya crazy, but it wasn’t just his work that was bothering him. Somehow, something else felt unfinished, but what that was exactly was dangling just out of reach of his consciousness. He tried to concentrate, but his pen slipped and spattered ink across the page. With a silent curse he crumpled the paper and cast it into the empty wastebasket he seldom had the need for. He closed his eyes, trying to relax his furrowed brow and cleanse his mind of thoughts, but it was feelings, not thoughts, that were distracting him. He should have been able to suppress the beginnings of emotion before they even registered, but he found he could not. They bubbled up to mar the calm surface of the clear pool of his inner world, forming an image out of recent memory: Abarai Renji, his fiery hair pooling about his body like the blood he lay in, eyes fierce with a resolve unbroken by defeat. Again Byakuya felt the sensation grip him, a profound and conflicted intermingling of feelings, some of which he barely recognized as belonging to him…

“Taichou!” a familiar voice barked, and Byakuya’s eyes snapped wide open. Renji took a step back; it threw him off to see the usually imperturbable man appear so startled, almost embarrassed. Before the lieutenant could let out his breath, however, Byakuya had composed himself completely.

“Renji.” There was something unusual about the captain’s tone, but Renji couldn’t put his finger on it.

“I just thought I’d bring you some – ” Renji was struck suddenly by the way the moonlight illuminated the sleek black hair and the gleaming kenseikan that bound it. In that moment Byakuya seemed to be composed entirely of soft light and stark shadows…such ethereal beauty disarmed him.

“—uh, tea.” Renji finished, flustered. He quickly set the cup down on the desk, hoping the captain couldn’t detect the slight trembling of his hand that almost made the steaming liquid slosh over the rim and onto Byakuya’s meticulous work.

Byakuya’s face didn’t change, but he took the drink gingerly and immediately took a long sip. He was exhausted, Renji realized. Only with the recent chain of events had he begun to understand the burden that the older man carried and the strain he hid behind his aloof countenance.

“Thank you,” Byakuya said, setting the cup down and once again taking up his pen. It was a signal for his subordinate to leave, but Renji lingered.

“It’s late, Taichou. I was wonderin’ how long you were plannin’ to work tonight. I know you don’t wanna, but you need rest. You still haven’t completely recovered from your wounds.”

Byakuya raised one eyebrow as if to say that he had more than recovered, thank you, and that Renji should speak for himself.

Renji looked away. “Well I’m gonna head off to bed.”

Byakuya took another silent sip of his tea, but he didn’t take his eyes off the lieutenant. “Goodnight, Renji.”

Dammit! Renji thought as he closed the door behind him. Why does he always have to make things so damn awkward? They had never exactly been friends, but now that they had faced each other as enemies, a fog of unresolved tension had settled over their every interaction. Renji had grown accustomed long ago to the icy glares and disdainful words, but this was different. He couldn’t tell how Byakuya’s estimation of him had changed, or if it even had. Though Byakuya had ultimately come around to Renji’s point of view, the fact remained that the lieutenant had defied his captain and misjudged his character. Now that he understood Byakuya’s motivations better, Renji felt slightly ashamed of his rash actions. Not that he had done the wrong thing, he was sure of that, but he wondered whether he had done it the wrong way. Had he heard an extra helping of condescension in the noble’s voice as he pronounced his name? Or…could it possibly have been a trace of tenderness?

No, no, no! Renji thought. I can’t kid myself like that. Facing out from the balcony, he looked down at the lamplit streets of the Seireitei below him, and beyond that, Rugonkai…and above it all, the thin pale moon. He could not understand how two people could work together so closely and yet maintain such an insurmountable gulf between them, which he was not sure was growing or receding. Certainly it had widened as their ideological conflict had come to a head, and yet, in certain moments since then, the barrier had seemed to give way ever so slightly, like a veil fluttering in the wind. It was these fleeting glimpses that fed Renji’s desire. He wanted to have physically what he knew he could never have emotionally – that is, nothing between them. He sighed and turned around to leave, then stopped with a start as he found himself face to face with the very object of his thoughts. “K-kuchiki-taichou!” he stammered.

Byakuya looked only slightly surprised to see his lieutenant loitering outside his door. “Is there something you want, Renji?”

You bet there is, Renji thought, imagining himself pouncing on the unsuspecting Byakuya and pinning him against the door with a passionate kiss. How glorious it would be to cup that porcelain jawline in his hand, to weave his fingers thorough that night-black hair, to gleefully and spitefully and lovingly defile the captain’s untouchable dignity with his own raw and feral passion. Except, he realized suddenly, he was not imagining this at all. He was kissing Byakuya, and rather intensely at that.

Now you’ve done it, Renji you fool, he scolded himself as his tongue explored the warm recesses of his astonished captain’s mouth. You’re going to get yourself Senbonzakura’d to shreds again. But in that moment, it was worth it. Byakuya wasn’t exactly kissing back, but that didn’t matter. Just the sweetness of penetrating those perfect lips was enough. Renji kept his eyes closed, fearing that if he opened them he would wake from a dream – and also fearing to see the look on Byakuya’s face. At any rate, his other senses were giving him plenty to work with: the softness of that impeccable hair with its aroma of opulence, the flawless skin surprisingly warm under his fingers. Renji had his captain right where he wanted him, he realized with a thrill of delight. He had never felt so powerful in his life, and this heightened his growing arousal as his hand glided beneath edges of the noble’s robes.

Unfortunately for Renji, his newfound supremacy was short lived. Suddenly he was falling forward as Byakuya’s free hand grappled for the doorknob and the door swung back open into the room, taking the two shinigami with it. The impact broke Renji’s hold on Byakuya; he opened his eyes, and their mouths parted. If he kills me right now, Renji thought, at least I’ll go with no regrets. Finally daring to look, Renji saw the slight pink flush in the captain’s cheeks, and in those bottomless eyes, a glimmer of…what?

“I suppose I should not be surprised by your want of restraint, Renji,” Byakuya said as he pushed the door shut, “but if we are to proceed, it would be unwise to do so in such a conspicuous location.” Before Renji even had time to process the other man’s words, Byakuya was returning his lieutenant’s kiss with an intensity that betrayed real feeling. Even if his tongue hadn’t been otherwise occupied, Renji would have been dumbstruck by three simultaneous realizations: one, that he was still alive; two, that the notorious ice prince seemed capable of genuine passion; and three, that he enjoyed being kissed by Kuchiki Byakuya even more than he enjoyed kissing him.

As Renji recovered from his blissful shock and responded to Byakuya’s advance, they shared a moment of heated chaos: tongues fighting for dominance, ravenous hands moving of their own accord, robes loosening and falling open around sculpted shoulders. Then, before he realized it was happening, Renji was on his back, pinned to the floor and completely bereft of control. Renji’s eyes widened; Byakuya’s narrowed. “Really, Renji,” he said archly, “don’t tell me you expecting it the other way around.” He slipped a finger under the band that held back Renji’s hair and snapped it in two, letting the brilliant locks cascade over the floor as he moved in for another kiss with fierce, efficient grace.

Now Byakuya’s own hair was unbound and both shinigami were stripped to the waist. Byakuya’s tongue began tracing Renji’s tattoos with incredible lightness, lingering at a chiseled collarbone, a taut nipple, the contours of flexed abdominals. Though his tongue was warm, its electricity sent shivers over Renji’s body. It flickered along the edge of Renji’s waistband and paused there mischievously. Then Byakuya raised his head and just looked at the lieutenant for a minute, drinking in his body with his eyes. For a moment Renji appeared transfixed by the deep blue-gray gaze; then his arm shot out to untie the captain’s hakama in one swift pull. Byakuya’s eyes widened for an instant as the garment fell down around his ankles. So did Renji’s, but for a different reason.

“Caught ya off guard, eh Taichou?” Renji started to say, but he was silenced by aristocratic lips against his own. Byakuya undid Renji’s sash with one hand and buried the other in his scarlet hair as he deepened the kiss. Renji had given up hope of regaining dominance; it was enough to know that he of all people had reduced the aloof Kuchiki heir to this primal state. Byakuya’s tongue had recommenced its calligraphic dance down his lieutenant’s body, now unencumbered by clothing, continuing downward and taking Renji’s erection into his mouth. Renji moaned and arched into the motion that sent hot waves of pleasure coursing though him. You bastard, Kuchiki, he thought as Byakuya deftly teased his arousal to new heights, you’ve totally done this before. Once again the fear he might be dreaming seized him, but never in his most private fantasies had he dared imagine this sweet delirium. Just as he was up against the very brink of release, Byakuya pulled back.

“What the hell?!” Renji cried breathlessly. “What’dja stop for?! Don’t torture me like that, Bya – gaaah!” In his indignation he had sat up too quickly, allowing Byakuya to flip him in one quick maneuver. Renji suddenly found himself face down, still throbbing with need.

“It seems you have forgotten your place, Abarai-fukutaichou,” said Byakuya, as first one, then two slick and slender fingers prepared Renji for what was to come. Even now, Byakuya’s voice kept its collected, commanding tone, but its refined edge had given way to a lustful hunger. “Do you remember when I told you the difference between you and me?”

“Yeah,” Renji answered weakly, between gasps of painful pleasure. “Level.”

“You will find, Renji, that in some things, there are only two levels. Yours – ” Renji cried out as his captain entered him, “ – and mine.” Renji’s body burned with the delicious ache of Byakuya filling him, rocking him, pressing up against the deep core of his desire. He squeezed his tearing eyes shut and his breath came in ragged moans as Byakuya drove hard into him again and again. Somewhere, he felt hands, lips, teeth, nails, heaven, pain, more heaven…everything blurring in the blinding pleasure. Years of being disparaged, reprimanded, and even imprisoned now seemed to Renji like torturous foreplay leading up to this impossible yet inevitable moment. His whole body belonged to Kuchiki Byakuya, and Renji couldn’t have wanted anything more. Their rhythm quickened, and their glistening, quaking bodies seemed to fuse together, scarcely able to contain the rising energy between them. Renji braced himself as his captain’s thrusts intensified, feeling the heat within him breach its threshold. “Byakuya – !” he managed to cry, wracked by the throes of climax. For an instant they were equals as they both came at once and collapsed on the thin carpet of discarded clothing.

They lay there, damp and fatigued and silent, as their breathing gradually returned to normal. Finally, feeling confident that it was safe to move of his own volition, Renji looked up to meet his captain’s eyes. Byakuya looked spent, and absolutely radiant. Renji had never seen him look so beautifully human. For someone who had just been ravished, Renji was feeling exceedingly proud of himself. “Well, what did you think, Kuchiki-taichou?” he asked, flashing a roguish grin. “Was I captain material?”

“Don’t be cheeky, Renji,” replied Byakuya before kissing his forehead with a touch as soft as a single cherry blossom.

Renji closed his eyes. His life had just gotten amazingly better. And, he realized, much more complicated. How were they supposed to keep this under wraps? Could he make it back to his room unseen? Where were his clothes, anyway? Oh, yeah.“Um, am I supposed to go back to my room in…this?” Renji asked, lifting up one rather wrinkled and less-than-clean sleeve of the robes they had substituted for sheets.

Byakuya looked down at his own uniform and once-pristine white captain’s cloak, which had also seen better days. Trailing a smooth hand across his lieutenant’s shoulders, he replied, “That depends on whether you decide to go back to your room.”

Renji managed to mask his giddy delight with his well-honed sarcasm. “Somehow I get the feeling this isn’t really my decision.”

“Catching on, are we?” Byakuya smirked. “You always have been a fast learner, Renji.”

Renji just smiled. Sex and a compliment from Byakuya in one night.

He wasn’t sure which surprised him more.

[zephfair]

Day 30 THE END Pantheon AU

This is my last story for the 30-Day AU Challenge, and it’s only 13 days late.

Day 18: Pantheon of Gods AU

This evolved into … something. It’s different. Definitely not my usual style, but consider it a failed experiment. It’s something I can see so clearly in my head, but I just couldn’t make it cooperate on the page. *: ･ﾟ✧ヽ(ﾟДﾟ)ﾉ

NOTE: Shinigami is translated “God of Death,” so of course Ichigo is Death. Grimmjow is obviously the God of Destruction.

WARNING: lots of mention of Death and some of blood, war etc.

In the beginning, there is only one deity. For when that very first life evolves, briefly lives, and ends, there is only the need for one deity. There is only one belief and it is that the life will end. So he is born out of the first loss and he is named—Death.

For every single life, there has to be a death. Some things live longer than others, but no one and no thing could ever outwit Death. He is there for each one—never causing the end of life, never choking off the final last breath, but there to take the soul, to mark the passing of the life.

As humankind becomes aware, so they realize that Death is all around them. Death is often swift and painful. All too common. Death is constantly seen all around them, in the natural world and the people alike. He comes silently and violently and too, too often.

When they whisper of Death, when they sketch a dimly imagined shape with shaking hands, Death is masked and horned like a hulking, hollowed beast. Because while they understand the inevitability of Death, it’s easier to picture him as a foreign entity and attribute to it the characteristics of a beast rather than embrace it as another human that could be so cold and uncaring.

There is no pantheon, only a few beliefs that are revered and eventually become gods—the Mother fertility, the Spring renewal, the Harvest to celebrate the scant bounty. All things cycle and humankind begins to catch on to the harmonious rhythm.

Destruction pads into their lives on silent paws. He is fearless and ruthless and bloodthirsty. He is the giant monster in the dark that doesn’t have to be imagined because its foul bloodthirsty breath is already behind you. He is the predator turning on the hunter. The starvation that strikes in famine. He is the uncontrollable flood drowning everything in its wake.

Destruction looks at the huge hulking figure silently ushering away the souls he’s killed. His tail lashes in anger at someone else taking his hard won prey and kills. But Destruction comes to realize the god of death doesn’t actually kill, he only collects. He seeks him out and watches and waits.

And Destruction learns that he can enjoy the thrill of the hunt, the rise of the blood lust and leave the rest to the only other god he will acknowledge.

This is all that matters.

Destruction will always win. He cannot be tamed. Death never fails. He is always there at the end.

XVXVXVXVXVXVXVXVXVXVXVXVXVXVXVXVX

As civilizations grow and humankind tries to not only survive but begin to thrive and organize, the pantheon grows immensely.

Gods are seen as part man—what can be understood and corralled—and part beast—that which is wild and unsubdued—and Destruction walks that line with perfect aplomb, all the grace and elegance of an animal with insatiable hunger, but the cunning and wiles of mankind and the desire and lust for destruction and war.

The gods rule the earth but leave the daily rituals to the priests who pretend to speak for them. There is the sun, often the chief god, who brings light to the darkness.

But not to Death.

Death is still masked fully with bone white and inhuman black and gold eyes. He is the one the people pray to be spared from; they live to outwit him and taste immortality. He holds not the scythe or flail, leaving that to the rulers, but carries a sword, the symbol of war.

Destruction takes a more traditional form as part giant cat and part man. Both parts an abomination. Destruction is a near daily occurrence in most lives since life is hard and short, any injury or illness resulting in drawing the inevitable attention of the one deity whom Destruction finds himself more and more drawn to.

As humans continue to grow and spread out seeking the best territories and goods, Destruction becomes also the god of War with a fanged grin. Any time two humans are together, there is a chance for him to reign. War grows to encompass not just men but entire nations as they send their loved ones out, never to return, offered up to Death.  

He takes on the name Grimmjow and stalks after Death, still jealous of him, wanting to fight. Planning his battles for maximum bloodshed so that Death will be forced to appear and he can jeer and challenge him to a fight himself.

But although men call upon the gods and so name them because it is easier to make their prayers and pleas heard, Death chooses himself a name that reflects protection. For although he never does the killing, he can only offer some final haven to the lost and hopeless, some ultimate relief to those suffering.

And so Death names himself Ichigo, but it doesn’t matter because to men he is only ever something to fight against, the last one they ever want to see, but the one they surely will see in the last.  

And he turns the eye of Destruction who finds that his growing pleasure is to feed the god of Death.

Grimmjow roars at him every time they meet on the battlefield, on the sea, at the natural disaster, challenging him for supremacy, goading him to fight, jeering and prodding.

But Ichigo only does his terrible job, fulfills his duty, and escorts away the souls that Destruction leaves in his bloody wake, leaving Grimmjow ever hungry for more.

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For all that it is a time of learning, reason, discovery, philosophy and so many important advancements they will resonate for millennia, it is also a time that is overrun with gods.

Gods and goddesses of wisdom, love, wine, the sea, the hunt, the hearth—they all hold court and take worship as their due. The worship ebbs and flow as they bicker and take turns being the supreme god. There are a multitude of temples which are palaces to the deities, each outshining the next in splendor.

The gods are petty and disturbingly human-like in their lusts and appetites.

But Death doesn’t walk among the gods. Ichigo shows his form as a tall youthful man with long dark hair, clad only in flowing black trousers with bandages wrapped around his torso and obscuring the bottom half of his face. He is wrapped like the undead carrying his sword that slices the thread of life.

Destruction, too, doesn’t live in gilded comfort of whatever halls the other gods fatten and become drunk in. Grimmjow pads the earth stirring up trouble, causing battles, giving power to one faction and encouraging the enemy to attack. But like the other gods, he appears now fully human, only the details giving hint to his wild animal heritage.

He doesn’t care about the squabbles in the pantheon because he ignores them all. He only has eyes for one god, the only one he grudgingly worships.

For as Destruction has watched Death, as Grimmjow has stalked Ichigo, all thoughts of divinity fall away.

And the god of Destruction begins to realize that he offers sacrifices to the god of Death every time he leads an army into the field or shakes the ground, opening fissures beneath houses.

First he corners Ichigo in the deserted, empty streets of a city overtaken by ash and lava from a volcano’s horrific eruption.

“I will fight Death and live forever,” he sneers.

“You are already eternal,” Ichigo points out. “In the wild of the land, the devastation of nature, the fighting of the people, destruction will always be here.”

Grimmjow thinks about this until he lures Death in again into a walled city now decimated after a long siege.

“Don’t expect me to revere you,” he tells Ichigo pointedly.

“I don’t,” Ichigo sighs. “I don’t need anyone to worship me. I already have the unwavering belief of every single human being because they all know I will visit them one day.”

Grimmjow swaggers up until they are face to face. “I don’t care if you’re visiting all of them, I just want to fight you. You’re the only god nearly as strong as me.”

“Oh, Grimmjow. You know I’m so much stronger,” and it is the first time Grimmjow ever sees Death smile, a tiny quirk of his lips as he makes the teasing challenge.

Destruction begins to realize that he doesn’t want to fight Death—he wants to embrace him.

But it’s doomed to be a one-sided love because Death is courted by too many, his attentions divided among the entire world.

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The world enters a time of extreme dichotomy, the East maintaining and growing knowledge while the West loses even what it learned in antiquity and struggles for survival.

The other gods are old, and some leave, stepping down from their thrones in the pantheon never to return. There are some new gods, some offshoots from the old that strip down and hone away their more dangerous edges. More and more humans believe in One but with different veneers. In more ways religion begins to rule and take over every aspect of human life.

Death—now fully humanoid with white armor over his legs and torso, only a partial mask striping his face—is never bothered by the changing faces of the pantheon. It matters not to him. He has his path and he walks it, followed and following, entwined and twining with Destruction.

For Destruction is also ever growing and adapting and making his eager sacrifices to his god, offering up flesh and blood pouring over the altars of kingdoms to Death.

Death does not come with a scythe and sickle, silent and dark. Death comes in shouts and explosions of battle. The cries and tears of the birthing room. The pained gasps and muffled torments of the plague.

Death is not merciful, not gracious; he does not join the mourners neither does he offer divine comfort.

Destruction roams the earth spreading even as humans disperse like pestilence over the globe. He is on the ships, egging on the invasions, stirring up the defenders, taking all the casualties as gains for his worship. He leaves the world on fire.

Ichigo stands quietly as always, watching Grimmjow take what he considers his due. Covered in blood, eyes gleaming from the reflections of the pyres, Grimmjow turns to him.

“This is my altar,” he brags. “Are you jealous that you don’t have a cathedral or a temple devoted to you? With rich sacrifices and worshipers singing their devotion? Hymns and paeans and all that shit?”

Ichigo shakes his head no. “I have no need for any of that. It doesn’t matter what they would offer me. None can escape me.”

“I bathe in the blood of the fallen, and I offer their souls up to you,” Grimmjow says. This isn’t the first time he has courted Death and tried to trip him into his bed. Ichigo only wonders why.

“Come with me,” Grimmjow invites, his nearly human teeth exposed by the curl of his lips, and Death hesitates then follows. Their coupling is violent and savage, unforgettable and legendary, and the world trembles when they become one.

Death becomes the only god worshiped fully by another.

As Destruction sleeps, sated for the moment, Death leaves to continue his inescapable duty.

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The world grows rigid, somehow large and smaller all at the same time.

Human life seems worthless, valueless; or as those in command believe, some are without value and some are without worth, while the rest deserve all the wealth and riches.

No matter how wise they grow, no matter how much about the natural world they discover, no matter how they try to investigate and give a name to everything, Death still visits each and every one.

Ichigo looks more human than ever, appearing with short bright hair and warm brown eyes, dressed in black with a long fitted coat that makes him as proper as the strictest authority

It matters not to him that the air is older and thicker and now he is older and wiser. He is in the birthing room and the operating theater. He visits universities and poets and travels to the ends of the world which is now fully sprawled open to all. He drifts through the nurseries and sits the vigils with the elderly.

The pantheon has all but vanished, disappeared into legends and fairy tales that are told to children as warning tales and to poets as creative inspiration. No one actually worships the watered-down stories, so the old gods shrivel and wither into oblivion.

Destruction doesn’t care about any of that. He doesn’t have any trouble keeping people believing in him, and he leads Death on a merry chase around the globe. Whether for land or religion or lines on a map, he cares not. He stirs the tension, the racial divides, the class issues, Destruction shouts and pommels and leads them into battle whether right or not, on the moral side or no, he fights.

And he lays his soldiers in a line for the one he loves above all, the one god a god himself worships, waiting for his slow step and slower perusal of everything he’s done in his god’s name.

He looks into the eyes of Death and sees no pity, no mourning, no comfort, no mercy. Death is only ever efficient and terrible, awesome in the oldest sense of the word—one inspiring that profound reverent terror or wonder.

“Someday I’ll bring them all to you,” Grimmjow vows.

“Oh Grimmjow, is that what you imagine would please me? Bringing me more death?” Ichigo sighs. “I who am but Death? Don’t you think that only makes me more appreciate life, to see what I can never have, to enjoy what I can never know?”

“I would bathe you in the blood poured out for my blessing,” Grimmjow swears.

“There is enough blood. There’s been too much blood,” Ichigo says and wearily gives in when Grimmjow opens his arms.

XVXVXVXVXVXVXVXVXVXVXVXVXVXVXVXVX

There are no gods anymore, most humans believe.  Even the ones who sit in churches and pretend to follow a religion don’t have the belief of anything but their own selves and what they can see and touch.

The comforting embrace of Death comes now with the sweet face of a young man, face set in a serene expression, but something in the eyes seeing far beyond what is visible. He is there at the hospital bed, the nursing home, the sick room. He is a passenger in the car before the crash. He is the only other person in the water. He reaches out and his touch is the last thing they feel. His is the gentle smile that comes out serenely, a scowl forming only when the end comes unjustly at someone else’s hand.

Destruction waits for him on a street corner, sleek and well fed and groomed. He looks flashy and loud and his very bearing demands that someone fight him. He is busy all the time not just on the battlefields that still dot the world but in every online spat and mass fight. With more and easier ways of killing, devastation is too easy and life seems more worthless. He feeds off the irritation and anger and gets a hallelujah every time someone takes a life.

“I still want you. Tell me you’ll fight me,” Grimmjow says, his arm going around the slim young man as he leans down to whisper it heavily in his ear.

“Why should I fight you? You’re busy enough these days, with war and conflict everywhere,” but Ichigo doesn’t push him away.

Grimmjow shrugs. “You know these corruptible humans, I barely have to try any more. Just point one in any direction and let them go, hardly need to offer power or temptation any more. The world is a powder keg and I only have to make a spark. It lights itself.” He snaps his fingers and promises again, “Someday I’ll bring them all to you.”

“Who will worship you then?” Ichigo asks.

“You will,” Grimmjow smirks. “And your other job will finally be over and we can be together forever.”

“You want to be with me forever?”

“You always leave me,” Grimmjow says, remembering the frustration of waking up every time expecting Ichigo to be in his bed.

“I’m always needed,” Ichigo reminds him. But Grimmjow can see the tired look in his eyes, the weariness on his thin shoulders. “You’ve already given me too much.”

“All these aeons, it’s always been for you,” Grimmjow says.

“All these ages, I couldn’t help but accept your sacrifices.”

“You enjoyed the adoration, the reverence,” Grimmjow says, carding his fingers through Ichigo’s hair. “With no priests or temples, no hymns or alms, you always had me.”

“I never needed the faith or belief of any one. I’m always a cold, hard certainty.”

“You’re always a certain good fight,” Grimmjow says, leering down at him. “Now come on, fight me, it’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

His hands in his pockets, face tipped up into the rain, Ichigo reminds him, “You can try forever but you’ll never win.”

“Then we’ll keep doing this,” Grimmjow says. “I’ll keep offering them up to you and you’ll keep taking.” Grimmjow takes Ichigo’s mouth then and Death is not cold as he somehow always expects or tastes of ashes like he would assume. He is instead warm and willing and so, so understanding.

“I take them all, in the end,” Ichigo murmurs against his lips.

“So long as I keep them remembering you’re real.”

“Of course I’m real,” Ichigo tells him. “I’m the only thing everyone believes in. I’m the inevitable.”

“And I’m the one who will be with you until the end, providing you sustenance and anything you need. And together we’ll face down the end,” Grimmjow says.

Death kisses him back and holds him close and they melt away together, dissolving into the colors and oil-slick of a splashed puddle until the very end when even time would fall to Death’s hand.