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gunebuggiesprompts · 2 years ago

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Why do I do this to myself? *sigh* guess it's time for me to try this out.

It was originally a warm sunny day, with the sun shining and a few clouds lazily drifting across the sky. Danny and his two best friends, Sam and Tucker, had made plans to go to the park and hang out for the rest of the day. They had plans to make this day count as a good day for this summer, as it was the last one until highschool, and everybody knew highschool sucked.

The trio were just about to head out, all of them dressed for the warm weather that had a small cool, relaxing breeze. Tucker was wearing his usual red beret, but instead of his usual long clothing, he wore a yellow t-shirt and some green cargo shorts. Sam was still dressed in all black, her goth appearance kept by her dark attire, though she made sure to bring one of her hats to try and keep off as much sun. Danny had his typical red and white t-shirt, but this time he wore shorts as well, not feeling like burning up from the weather.

Everything was perfect, they knew everything they were going to do. Get some ice cream, maybe go to the waterpark or the arcade (most likely the arcade because they liked the air conditioned space of the inside), and then go to Nasty Burger for lunch. It was going to be a fun day, ideal for their last summer before teenage hell.

Then it started to rain, and not just a slight summer drizzle, but a full on storm. All of their plans were ruined, Danny’s thoughts just as sad as his soaked hair dripping all over his face. They had gone to get ice cream, the sun still bright in the sky, only a few clouds big enough to block its beaming display. The dark clouds that began to roll in were sudden, and incredibly fast, like they were made just to ruin Danny and his friend’s day. He wasn’t even able to make it out of the park before the onslaught of water drowned him.

Sam, whose hat was sagging from the amount of water it was holding, became immediately aggravated. Danny didn’t blame her when she yelled at the sky, cursing the rain. He still didn’t blame her when she went storming off, mumbling that she was going home, her make-up running down from the rain. Tucker wasn’t too far behind. He already didn’t like being outside too much, and would rather be inside tinkering with some new tech than hang out here in the rain. Danny left with him, feeling downcasted by the random storm ruining all of their plans. Can’t he ever just have a good day to hang out with his best friends?

Now Danny was in his room, sulking for an hour, before deciding that he needed to find something to do. He was already getting antsy just sitting down doing nothing, and although he couldn’t go outside, that didn’t stop him from hopping onto his computer.

He booted it up, the screen light coming to life after a second, and he began to wonder what he should do. His brain went blank, and he found that it was hard to come up with something to busy yourself with when your previous plans were thrown out the window. This left him to try calling up Sam or Tucker, to see if they would like to play videogames or something, maybe mention the new update on Doom.

Turns out, Sam was too busy brooding and fixing her make-up and Tucker had started a project and would be MIA for the next few hours at least, leaving Danny to his own devices. He groaned into his hands, racking his brain for something, anything to do. The rain was making a constant thrumming, which would usually provide a sense of peace for the boy. Now it seemed like it was teasing him, reminding him that he was stuck in the house because of it.

Danny turned his head and glared at the window, imagining that he was staring at the being who was causing his current misery. Then he stopped and thought to himself, was there a being that controlled the rain? He knew there were gods in multiple religions and beliefs that had gods like that or something similar, such as Thor or Zeus, but he didn’t know much else other than that. To be honest, he never gave it much thought before.

These thoughts led to what would be Danny spiraling into an hour (more so likely several hours, but Danny lost track of time) of researching and reading about gods and goddesses. He would find one, read through it and where it originated from, then find more in that same belief. That would then cause him to find more otherworldly beings like those ones, and he would deep dive into those. Continue to repeat the cycle and now you have Danny who is in the deep rabbit holes and small corners of the internet, finding new information that he may or may not remember later. It sufficed his boredom though, and solved that particular itch in his brain, so he didn’t particularly mind.

Then he found something that really interested him, a certain god who has been seen repeated in several remarkable pieces and times of history, from stone tablets all the way to renaissance paintings. The god’s name had changed a bit over the years, some translations being a little wonky or misunderstood, but the being was mostly referred to as Phantom. Apparently Phantom was the god of ghosts and most things afterlife wise, which Danny found very interesting. Partly because his family were ghost hunters, and partly because Danny had always wondered about what happens after you die, especially if you turned into a ghost.

He did a deep dive of Phantom and learned a lot of cool things about him. Such as how some people not only depicted Phantom as a god but also a king, or more accurately, the Ghost King, and that was a really cool name. He also had “powers'' or ghostly abilities, some of them even going beyond what people reported as “normal” ghostly advantages. The god could fly, go invisible and intangible, create ice and use said ice in various ways, shoot something called “ectoplasm” (he heard his parents talk about it before, but he found it hard to focus on what they was saying when they started to go on long rants), possess people or what historians refer to as overshadowing, has strength way beyond that of a human, and so much more that Danny felt like his brain was going to explode from how powerful this god seemed. Which made sense, because that was what Phantom was, a god.

Phantom was known to be witty and brave, taking on challenges all the time. Though he was also known to be a diplomatic and kind god and served his ghostly subjects with care and thought. The paintings and engravings of him didn’t really stay all too consistent, whether it was the various art styles or innovations in art in general, but there were a few things that did stay the same. He had white hair, green glowing eyes, and either wore a royal-like robe or an odd looking suit, both showing up in different iterations of him.

No matter how much research Danny did, it felt like he couldn’t find enough. He continued to read articles, books, sighting accounts, and pretty much anything else he could find.

It was in this extensive search that he learned that Phantom had essentially faded, becoming a distant memory, most of his sources coming from outdated and old documents. People had stopped believing in Phantom, and therefore he stopped existing too. Nobody ever really talked about him anymore, if at all, almost as if he never was there to begin with. It disheartened Danny, because he really liked this Phantom god, but now it seemed as if he just became a phantom to everybody’s memories.

More DP Brainrot

AU - Fenton and Phantom are two different beings, and Phantom is seen as like a kind of ghostly god seen all throughout history from stone tablets to renaissance paintings. well the summer before Danny's freshman year he discovered info on phantom and then hyperfixated on it. after his research spiral, Danny decides Phantom was a super cool dude so when he finds out phantom essentially faded because people stopped believing in him (like gods in pjo) he was disheartened. while babbling about how cool and nice and amazing Phantom had been to Sam and Tucker, Sam offhandedly remarked that Danny should just become Phantom's priest or something. Danny is immediately completely on board with that idea so he like idk wiki how's how to become a priest- My point is Untrained Magic User!Danny with Phantom as his patron with Danny being gifted essentially all of Phantom's powers as thanks for being the first to believe in them in centuries and unintentionally becoming the second coming of Phantom would be PEAK chaos. and you can even make it a DCxDP Crossover, with Constantine stressing tf out over this feral kid and his menacing Eldritch patron hovering out of mortal sight behind him.

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moonlight-prose · 3 months ago

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a request, if i may, of praising old man logan as he filfthly eats you out and it makes him combust the more you praise him? okay running away again

speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life

a/n: look at him taking off his glasses in absolute shock of this ask- no okay does old man logan have a praise kink? i would raise it higher and say every version of logan has a massive praise kink. this is a man who wants to know he's doing good in life. his love language is acts of service so he might get to hear a pretty thank you. also i'm not sorry for how feral this got. i have no explanation.

summary: he knew he loved you when your words begin to piece his heart back together. he knew he loved you when he flourishes at your praise. he knew he loved you when nothing in this world could matter but the sound of your voice telling him you love him too.

word count: 3k+

pairing: old man!logan x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, oral (f receiving), praise kink, logan is obsessed, dirty talk via reader, he is so pretty when he blushes, manhandling, cumplay, cumeating, overstimulation, crying, he's needy in this one, angst, tortured soul of an old man, reverence, religious trauma + greek mythology hints.

He can feel the strings of fate pull tight around his broken heart. In a failed attempt to draw him back together. To piece together an organ that barely beat for him anymore. He might have felt it once, before it broke. Before it gnarled itself like the branches of a dying tree, one half twisting away from the other in a desperate attempt of survival.

He deemed it a useless part of his body until you came along. You with your smile that held enough cloying sweetness to choke him as he stood helpless. Silently begging for you to say his name. To bring him back to life.

Whatever horrors that plagued his mind—endless nightmares that promised nothing but anguish—suddenly came crashing to a halt at the sight of you. So pretty in your denim jeans and velvet top. An angel seated in the center of a bar that held more filth than you deserved to be near. Logan couldn’t fathom that luck struck him this hard.

Not when death had already claimed his soul; notched yet another tally in the endless wall of people that came before.

He felt the dirt pack under his nails as he clawed his way out of the grave he put himself in. Years spent alone—a man lost to the ravages of time—had turned him bitter. With rough edges and biting words that stung far more than he intended. How could he believe he deserved to live after he contributed so much to the endless pool of blood that tainted his soul? How was he allowed such softness after biting off bits of brutality his whole life?

Logan was pretty sure he survived on borrowed time that had already run out. He could feel death breathe down his neck as the days went on. A reminder that what little of his life remained would be spent suffering. And he found that accepting it was easier than battling against the will of God, or whoever toyed with his lifeline.

It was far easier to die than find a reason to live.

Until you said his name.

Softly. Sweetly. Reverence wrapped in a tight grasp of need.

You brought him back from the edge—took his hand and refused to take no for an answer. You and the safety of your touch; the promise in your kiss. You dragged him into a life he didn’t earn; one that almost tasted too sweet—too sour.

After near a decade of being buried beneath the dirt, he felt himself collapse above ground and suck in his first real gasp of fresh air. Alive, once more. Hell spit him out with a vow of love and who was he to argue against it.

His fingers dug into your plush thighs, tugging them open to see what lay between. He marveled at their softness, eyes wide and awestruck at the sight of you spread beneath him. You practically glowed in the dim light of the bedside table. Yellow, musty, yet angelic when it caressed your body with its heavenly touch.

He wondered if this was real life; your nails digging sharply into his shoulders gave him the answer.

"Logan," you sighed, voice high with need.

The strings pulled taught. A vice like hold that drew him to you.

Maybe that's what this unutterable feeling was. The gnawing pit at the bottom of his heart. A greed he'd never indulged before—too afraid of what it might ask for next. He wasn't a man who asked for much. Rather someone that found himself far too content with nothing. But tonight he found his lips forming the words of a false prayer that his mother taught him as a child.

Hail the angel in his bed. Hail every good fucking thing you brought into his life.

His teeth sunk into your thigh, body jolting at your responding moan. Fingers dug into his hair, tugging at the mussed locks with a high pitched whine. You were a needy little thing, but Logan found he desperately wanted to be needed.

He smiled laving his tongue over the tender spot, working his way up to where you dripped for him.

So slick. So perfect.

Saliva filled his mouth. "What do ya want baby?"

Your chest heaved; he could feel the heat of your body under his palms. "Your m-mouth Logan."

His eyes trailed along your brow covered in a sheen of sweat. The room was thick with the humid air of the outside world. But that didn't deter him from craving your skin near his. The pressure of your thighs around his head a welcome weight. If he sunk his teeth in where the curve of your leg met your hip he knew he could draw out that soft choking noise he longed to hear on days spent driving alone.

If he had his way he'd crawl into you to seek your serenity straight from the source. He'd never divulge about the ache that chewed him up on the inside, but Logan wondered if you knew. Could you tell how much he craved you? How much he couldn't live without you.

When your glittering eyes met his, the resolve he spent years building cracked like glass. You peered into him as if he was a stained glass window. A god you were more than happy to worship.

"You want me to lick this pretty pussy?" Fuck, he sounded drunk off your taste already.

His mouth hovered over your throbbing clit, your scent now filling his senses. Overwhelming him with what he wanted most. But he needed to hear it. The lilt of your begging; the soft echo of your need that washed over him like soothing river water.

He couldn't live without it.

"Yes," you sobbed, thigh twitching.

The string sliced his heart open, blood pooling onto the white bed sheets. Oh what a sweet death your love made. Oh...what a bittersweet way to go.

He'd die right now if you asked him to. Hand over his heart on a silver platter if you so wished it. Maybe that made him far too gone for his own good, but Logan couldn't remember a time in his life where he got this. Safety. The hope of love burning far too bright and far too hot for him to fly near it.

Yet there he was. Icarus happily soaring in your sun like glow.

"I got ya honey," he murmured. "Gonna take care of what's mine."

You nodded frantically—tears welling up in your eyes. "You take care of me Logan."

The breath in his chest stuttered, eyes dark as the words fell past your swollen lips. He wanted to explain why his cock twitched against his stomach. Why he now leaked into the sheet with heavy panted breaths. But every time he came up short with the words needed to form an answer.

"Yeah I do sweetheart," he breathed. "Don't I?"

"Uh-huh."

"Take care of what belongs to me."

There was no warning when his hands dragged you closer with a rough tug, mouth closing over your clit with a desperate suck. A cry wrenched from your mouth, sparks sharply traveling down your spine. He licked through your slick with a growl. Hands an unbreakable press against your thighs.

The sight of your body bowed, mouth open for small gasped breaths that never came, snapped something in his mind. He was an old man. Well past his years. But the taste of your pussy along his tongue brought back a ferocity he often tamped down in his younger age. He felt the feral want claw at his chest, and answered it with a broken snarl.

Swallowing down every drop you gave him, he plunged his tongue into your entrance, thrusting messily until a smear of your shiny slick began to coat his mouth. It covered his cheeks and clung to the hair of his beard. He'd clean it out later, taste you on his tongue until he was aching for another go. But for now he was preoccupied with the way you cried for him.

"Oh fuck!" Your thighs trembled over his shoulders, hips canting down to drag yourself along his tongue. "So good."

He shuddered, eyes rolling back at the sound of your praise. You caught it within seconds, lips pulling into a breathless smile that left him gasping for air. His teeth nipped at your thigh briefly as his hips ground into the mattress below.

"You like that baby?" you breathed, thumb smearing your own slick against his cheek.

Something hot washed over his body. A needy sick and twisted ache that he'd never indulged in before. He wanted to be a good man to you; longed to be needed. And fuck if you didn't give him everything.

You were his walking wet dream. His future handed off and wrapped in a neat little bow.

"L-Love your tongue Logan-" A high gasp tore from your throat when he dived back in. Slurping at your clit with a heady moan as you dragged him closer. "Taking care of me so well."

His hips canted down into the bed, fucking his cock along the warmth of his stomach, as you gushed into his mouth again. Eyes zeroed in on your face, pupils dilated as he growled into your flesh. You no longer could see the man you loved, but the feral side he tamped down during the day. The animal he longed to release in your presence.

"Fuck I'm gonna cum."

His arms looped around your thighs and with a sharp yank, he had his face buried deep enough to suffocate himself. You sobbed an incoherent version of his name. Nails clawed at his shoulders, but Logan could feel the pulse of your clit under his tongue.

He sucked it into his mouth with a grunt, rolling it along his tongue as you trembled with the oncoming shocks of an orgasm that threatened to destroy you.

Tears dripped down your cheeks and Logan felt the satisfying part of his heart begin to stitch itself back together. The strings were tight enough to numb his pain. To quell the flare of agony.

That used to be all he knew, all he counted on most days. When there was nothing left and he'd propped the shovel in the dirt—his grave open and waiting—he stumbled right into your arms. He found his reason for living.

Heat curled around his spine as you shook with the impending orgasm—the stimulation on your clit practically debilitating. He grunted into your soaked flesh, eyes narrowed as he chased the release that pulled his stomach taut. But this wasn't for him to indulge in; this wasn't his pleasure.

So with a throaty moan you felt reverberate along your body, he scraped his teeth along your clit and watched as your body went stiff.

"Logan!" you cried, fingers scrambling for purchase on any part of him you could reach.

You gushed into his awaiting mouth, praises of it's so good, you're so good falling upon his ears like the whimpered prayers of a devout worshiper thanking your god.

"Taste so fuckin' good," he mumbled, drunk on what you gave him.

He didn't care that you were jolting with each pass of his tongue along your pussy. He didn't care that you were shocked with overstimulation, small broken cries of his name muffled by the press of your thighs against his ears. He licked at you until he couldn't breathe. Buried his tongue into your twitching entrance and sucked out your cum with a happy hum.

"P-Please." You tugged at his hair, pulling him off you with a sob. "I-I can't anymore Logan."

"'M not fuckin' finished," he said, eyes glazed and face coated in your slick.

You made a mess of his face. The light catching along where you spilled into his mouth and along his throat. And still he wanted more. He'd spend hours between your thighs, burning your skin with his beard, if it meant he could divulge in your sweetness.

"It hurts-"

A grunt rumbled in his chest, his arms tugging you back even as your feet kicked along his back. "Just one more honey. Yeah?"

You shook your head. "B-But-"

"Thought you said it was good."

"It is."

"Then lemme be good for you." He wanted to tell you that the world went quiet between your thighs. That all his grief, all his pain, lessened when you sobbed his name.

He wanted to show you the string that looped his heart to yours—the only thing keeping him alive—and thank you for bringing him back from the dead. But words weren't his forte. Violence had become the only tenderness he knew and you didn't deserve the rough edges of an old man. You should have more.

But when you let him touch you like this—caress your skin and lick between your folds—he felt as if he was a man who finally was worthy of someone as precious as you. He could pretend he didn't bear the brunt of a fucked up soul.

The weight on his chest lifted when your tear filled gaze met his and you nodded. Small, barely there, but it was enough for him to seal his mouth back over you with a ragged moan. Your body shook as his tongue slid through the seam of your pussy. The tip nudging against your clit—careful to draw the pleasure from your body slowly.

He didn't want to give you pain. His heart wouldn't survive that. But he was a broken man; someone who begged for more even as his teeth sunk into what was already given.

You were his meal. His sacrament in the midnight hours until dawn broke across the darkened sky. You were the other half of his soul.

How could he not indulge in your sweetened tang until his tongue went stiff?

"I love you," you sighed, eyes rolled back when he sucked at your pussy, a wet low moan echoing in the air. "My p-perfect husband."

The cold press of his wedding band against your thigh drove him over the edge. You weren't officially married. Didn't have the backyard wedding with a preacher to match. But Logan had placed a ring on your finger near a year ago, sliding one over his own with the vow of forever cemented in his words.

Even if that didn't mean much in the eyes of a god who abandoned him near a century ago.

"Oh-"

Your head tipped back, mouth dropping open as his fingers dipped into your wet heat. Thrusting lazily until he found the spongey patch along your walls—driving the pad of his middle finger into it with a needy moan.

He knew it wouldn't take long for you to fly off the edge of a second release. That didn't make watching you climb to that peak any less satisfying. The sight appeased his soul. It gave him a chance to breathe; let him know that after so much bad—after so much pain—he could do something good. He could bring you to the edge of pleasure and drag you over again and again.

He could finally be the man you believed he was.

Not the animal they created.

"C'mon," he muttered. Eyes fixed on the shape of your breasts as your body curved off the bed. Hips dragging along his face with a stunted cry.

A wail bounced off the walls, piercing his eardrums with the symphony of your cries. His fingers rapidly pumped into you with a squelch that had heat burning his cheeks—lips pulling your throbbing clit into his mouth as you broke. The climax slammed into you; battering your already swollen pussy.

Logan could feel his cock swell at the sight.

"Fuckin' perfect," he grunted, teeth bared as he clambered to his knees and wrapped his fist soaked in your slick around his leaking cock. "'M gonna cum sweetheart."

Your eyes fluttered open, fingers digging into his thigh. "Please. Wanna see it baby. Look so pretty when you cum Logan."

His chest tightened, body shaking while you watched in rapture as he fucked his fist rapidly. He wouldn't fucking last, could feel the burning consume his body, but something held him back. The string around his heart yanked him away from the edge, tearing a cry from his throat when his frustration peaked.

You could see it—the glimmer of need in his dark eyes. This wasn't the first time he longed for your words. It certainly wouldn't be the last.

So you spread your legs and sat up slowly—arms wrapping around his shoulders to bring his lips down to yours. A soft moan was muffled by your mouth; the peak of his release within reach. He could practically feel the tips of his fingers graze it.

"Cover my pussy baby," you mumbled into his mouth. "Be good for me and mark what's yours."

The growl came from the very bottom of his chest when he finally came. Your name was a bitten out snarl pressed to your mouth in an open mouth kiss as he spurted over his knuckles. He pumped his cock to milk every drop; eyes fixed on the way it covered the swollen lips of your pussy. Dripping down to your entrance that fluttered at the sight of his sweaty and crimson tinged face.

"I fuckin' love ya honey," he murmured, hand cupping your chin to drag your lips back to his. "Best thing that's happened in my life is you."

You smiled, thumbs pressing to his cheeks. "Love you too Logan."

Clutching you close, he felt the string go loose. The breath finally rushing back into his lungs at the sight of your eyes glowing with the kind of light that brought him back to the first day The night he met you in that shitty bar—alcohol the only thing on his mind until he saw you.

The night you spoke his name over his covered grave and dragged him back to life with a smile.

#logan howlett x f!reader #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x y/n #logan howlett smut #old man logan #my writing

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darkspace7 · 1 year ago

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Overture

"A plucked note, a half familiar tune, it's okay if you don't remember the words- you will soon."

(Or in which Ichigo has a bad day, meets a guy with personal space issues and who looks way too much like his zanpakuto to be comfortable, and finds out reincarnation is also apparently a thing?) Words: 10572 Rated: Fiction T A/N: This is actually very old wip that I found in one of my old journals and simply decided one day to finish on a whim. I've always been rather fond of reincarnation stories and figured it would work out rather well here. Also honestly I just wanted to have an excuse for Ichigo being a salty little shit to someone. Anyway, I do not hold the rights for either DGM or Bleach because -let's be honest here- would I really be writing fanfiction if I did?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Overture"-noun: an orchestral piece that serves as the precursor to a larger musical composition; the start of something much bigger. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Sixteen…"

With a flash of steel viscera flew away, shattering into nothingness before it even had a chance to hit the ground.

"Seventeen…"

The thick blade of the khyber knife slid through flesh and bone with little effort, carving a path of destruction in its wake.

"Eighteen!"

The teen hefted the massive blade onto his shoulder and cast a glance back at one of the (un)fortunate few hollows that had managed to escape from the carnage. ' Though not for long… ' "Oi Ishida!" He called out suddenly, "That's eighteen now, how many have you managed so far?"

A bolt of blue soared past him, just narrowly missing by a small margin as it went on to pierce the mask of one of the more opportunistic hollows who thought they might be able to get a cheap shot or two in while he was distracted. "Perhaps you should focus on the task at hand instead of asking inane questions like who can kill the most hollows in one go Kurosaki." The bespectacled Quincy replied in a droll tone as he leapt back, ducking quickly in an effort to avoid the clawed swipe a low-level adjuchas before launching off a volley of arrows in retaliation. "And it's twenty-three if you must know."

"Damn." Ichigo turned away with a grumble but still felt the need to retort,"Yeah, well, you know we wouldn't even be out here in the first place with if a certain somebody hadn't shoved me back into that crate of hollow bait!"

"I already told you that was an accident! My arms were so full of stuff that I couldn't even see over them! How on earth was I supposed to know you were right behind the door? I may have talents that span across many fields, but you will be hard pressed to find being psychic among them." "Uh-huh, yeah, sure." Ichigo nodded entirely unconvinced, "Tell that to the hand you messed up!" He flicked said appendage toward the other teen. An action of which merely caused the other to roll his eyes. "It was just a small cut Kurosaki, stop being so melodramatic." "Melodramatic?!" The teen cried, "You're not the one who ended up taking an entire shelf down with him! I got dirt and god-knows-what in this damn thing. Do you know how much bacteria is in that shit? I'm lucky if it doesn't get infected!" A shout quickly cut both of them off and not a moment later it was followed with a large hollow being sent sailing past the taller teen. He blinked and turned to the source. "Hey how you holding up Chad?

"Fine." Yasutora Sado -or as he was known to his friends- Chad replied. "I managed to get thirty so far." His armored fist crashed through the skull of a still-twitching creature. "Though I think that was the last one."

The deafening sound of a garganta tearing through the night sky drew their attention upwards. Twin sets of bleached bone hands accompanied by the massive visages of their owners peered out of the void-like spacial tear. They stared up at the newly-arrived gillians for a second before Chad spoke up once more. "I might've been wrong." Uryu pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh.

"You know…" Ichigo eyed the gillians with a discerning look, "This feels suspiciously familiar for some reason." He turned to face his Quincy companion speculatively, "Didn't we have to do something similar to this the last time you decided to be an idiot?"

"Ugh, don't remind me." He grumbled, shooting the teen a gimlet stare. "Don't tell me you're thinking of rushing up and trying to knock them down from the bottom-up again are you?"

'Er well maybe not from the bottom-up anyway.' The substitute shinigami thought with a flush. "That was one time! And from what I remember, its not like your plan was any better!"

"Excuse me?" Came the indignant response. Ichigo's look was as dry as his words, "It involved tying my sword to your head and trying to shoot the damn thing down Ishida. I think that counts."

"Ichigo."

"What?" The teen turned to his tall friend who in turn made a silent gesture towards the general vicinity of the massive hollows, the other's gaze locked on something in the distance. Curious, he traced the path only to spot the telltale glow of a cero beginning to form on the leftmost gillian's lips. "Oh…shit." With that he moved.

Shifting into a shunpo, he flickered up and over to meet the threat. Zangetsu out and at the ready, he sent forth a nameless arc of energy directly into the large beast's face. The light of the cero dissipated as the gillian was knocked back from the sheer force of the attack. Incensed, the being let out an ear-drum shattering screech.

However, not giving it a chance to recover, Ichigo launched himself forward and swung. A fearsome cry ripped loose as the blade cleaved though the hollow's mask and eventually the being itself. "That's nineteen." He slid back, allowing the dissipating reishi of the newly purified beast to filter around him as he made to survey his newest target. "Now let's see if we can make it twenty."

A faint shimmering glow began to encapsulate the zanpakuto as wisps of power rose up to meet their king's demand. Slipping one foot back, he settled into a firm stance, braced the charged blade with a strong grip, and then uttered the two damning words, "Getsuga Tensh-?!"

It was then, at that very moment, he felt his power surge. Taken off guard by the unexpected ferocity he jerked and involuntarily released the charged attack. However he only had a split second to process this before it all went to hell. It was… odd, he thought with a detached air. There was the vague sense of his half-called attack coming forth to strike the unfortunate hollow with enough force that if the blast itself hadn't destroyed it then the resounding shockwave would have managed that thrice over. A searing throb pulsed through his arm as ringing echoed with an omnipresent chime in his ears. He thought if he strained hard enough that he could maybe make out the disant voices of his friends and the rush of wind flowing past him as he flew. And then suddenly the world shifted and he was falling and everything was beginning to lose focus and then- Darkness.

-------------------------------[ - XIV - ]------------------------------------ … … …? **…? It.. me, ****. Ca. ..u …r m. ..t? ***** y.u …d .. get up! ***..?!

"Damn it Ichigo wake up!" -------------------------------[ - XV - ]---------------------------------- Warm brown eyes flickered a bit as the lids hiding them cracked open- only to clamp shut seconds later with a pained hiss. He opted to remain like that as he took stock of his situation. He was obviously still alive if the general ache that seemed to run through every part of his body were any indication (and shit if it didn't hurt) and from what he could tell, he was sprawled out on on something hard and cold - the ground- presumably. His hand twitched and brushed up against something at his side. Curiosity taking precedence for the moment, he hazarded a glance around until his slit-eyed gaze happened upon the thing. It was his sword, somehow he had managed to keep his grip on the blade despite being tossed about like a ragdoll. Good to know.

"Ichigo!"

His head tilted towards the shout and the tension bled from his frame when he caught sight of who it was. "Hey…you okay?" The teen managed to grit out. 'Because I sure as hell am not.'

"Kurosaki." There was a flicker of relief behind metal-rimmed frames that was quickly asked by annoyance. "I think that question would better be directed at yourself." Reaffixing the sliding pair of lenses he continued on, "Seeing as I'm not the one in the crater right now."

"Ishida!" It was at that moment that Chad had finally managed to make it to the scene. As his attention flickered from the Quincy to a vaguely irritated-looking Ichigo then to the surrounding destruction he came to a conclusion of some sort and finally let his gaze come to rest on the fallen substitute shinigami. He took a step forward and asked, "What happened?"

With some difficulty Ichigo managed to push himself into a semiseated position. He looked up at the two perched upon the lip of the impact site with a pensive scowl. "I'm… not entirely sure." He admitted honestly, a hand raked through disheveled locks as he thought.

"It looked like you exploded."

"Yeah? That's a bit what it felt like too." The whole peculiarity pf the incident had left him with a bitter taste in his mouth (although that might've just been blood.) "It was weird. I was just doing as I normally do when out of nowhere my power just sort of… skyrocketed. Next thing I know that hollow is on death's door and my ass is being sent flying halfway across the city."

They were all silent for a pause, each lost to their own thoughts until Ishida decided to break it. "We should head on back, perhaps that shopkeeper can shed some light on things."

The black-clad teen snorted, "If you somehow think you can get him to drop that cryptic bullshit for two seconds then by all means go for it." He slowly began to pull himself up, grunting quietly from the effort.

"Do you need some help?" Chad -ever the reliable friend- offered.

"No, no. I got it." He waved him off and slowly managed to heave himself upright with Zangetsu acting as a sort of makeshift crutch. He successfully made it a step-and-a-half forward before his legs decided to give out on him and he crumpled. "Um maybe I don't have it…"

Ishida's brow hiked up slightly, "Oh really? I honestly couldn't tell." He drawled, earning a glower from the other teen. The bespectacled youth chuckled slightly as he bent down and carefully perched himself on the rim of the crater, his hand extended out towards his sometime friend/rival. Grumbling under his breath, the boy clasped onto the proffered limb with a firm embrace. And then it happened…

One moment everything was fine and the next second, right as Ichigo's made contact, the other's sleeve seemed to just disintegrate. A startled yelp escaped the Quincy as he jerked the limb from the other's grasp, the sudden loss of support sending the teen back down flat on his ass. He stared in a sort of horrified bewilderment as the other clutched at the pained limb and from where he was sitting Ichigo thought he could spot a welt of red stand stark out against pale skin. Appearing almost as if it had been seared there. His gaze flickered down to his bandaged hand, watching as the appendage trembled slightly when he made a fist.

What in the actual fuck?

Pain momentarily shunted to the back of his mind, he scrambled up the pile of rubble, taking care to maneuver around the duo as he hefted himself up and over the ledge. Wordlessly he met their troubled flickers with an uneasy gleam of his own. The same unspoken question passed between them: just what the hell was going on? Thankfully they were spared the issue of dwelling on it for too long when a distinctly familiar presence decided to make itself known. "Oh my, you boys sure know how to make a mess." The clack-clack of wooden sandals slapping against concrete came to as stop as their owner cast an impassive eye at the trio, namely a certain swordsman. "Well I suppose it's a good thing that my ability to conveniently appear at just the right moment is as impeccable as always. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Urahara-san, as much as we would love to stand around and discuss your frankly stalker-like tendencies don't you think there are slightly more pressing matters to attend to?"

The man's attention flickered briefly to the injured Quincy before shifting back to Ichigo. "Yes, I suppose so. Exposition time it is then." He affected an almost put upon sigh before sobering so fast it could've given a person whiplash. Leaning forward with his cane as a support he began, "I'm certain you can recall the actions of young Kurosaki-san of a few months prior. How in a desperate last ditch effort he employed the use of his final single most powerful technique in order to stop Aizen and ultimately save out collective asses, in spite of the supposed cost brought about by doing such a thing."

"Except that didn't happen." Ichigo said slowly, "The cost that is."

"Precisely. Which is in where lies the problem." The man's steel eyes glinted slightly, "With the use of that technique you should have immediately undergone the process of losing your spiritual pressure -and with it your powers- the moment you released the attack. But you didn't. Somehow the process was… circumvented -for lack of a better term- allowing for you to pursuit a third option and keep both your abilities and your spiritual energies, albeit in a slightly diminished state. Naturally, phenomena such as this bore further examination and I have to say," He pushed his hat back allowing for a better view, "The results were rather interesting and, sadly to say, inconclusive."

"These results wouldn't happen to involve things like, say, random power spikes and straight up disintegrating shit would they?" The brown-eyed teen asked lowly.

The blond nodded, "From what I have been able to gather I'd say its a bit something like this: imagine if you will, a system of pipes and valves. Normally you'd twist on the tap and water would flow through them with no trouble right? Now picture that those valves, for whatever reason, up and decided that they simply don't want to work properly anymore. What happens when suddenly there's all this extra water and nowhere for it to go? It begins to back up and flood the system, naturally."

He almost didn't want to ask but he needed to know, "And… what happens when the system is completely flooded?"

"Over time the pressure produced would escalate to a level far beyond that which is in any way safe and eventually the backlash would destroy the system entirely-" The blond's gaze traveled significantly to Ishida who continued to clutch at his wounded arm, "- along with everything else within a fourteen kilometer radius." The teen felt his blood become ice. "Oh." A bead of sweat dripped from his brow, "That's…not good." Was all that he managed to get out.

It was a bit before anyone could figure out just how exactly they were supposed to respond to that little proclamation when Ishida -ever the pragmatist- asked, "Is there any way to fix it and make it so that doesn't happen?"

For a brief second he dared hope but when the man simply shook his head his heart sunk, "While I do have some theories that could potentially bear merit, I'm rather reluctant to implement them, at least not until I can manage to extrapolate the underlying cause of all this."

As the incredulous disbelief, which had been progressively mounting throughout the duration of the the conversation, finally deigned itself to drag the teen into its murky depths a thought occurred to him and much like a lifeline he clutched onto it. "What about my body?" Could he even return to it in this state?

The man hummed thoughtfully, "You probably could try to go back to it, but unless you want first-hand knowledge on what its like to inhabit a body that's in the process of slowly being torn apart from the inside by its own spiritual pressure, then I'd advise against it."

'Well that answers that.' The teen grimaced, it was not a pretty picture and in all honesty he kind of felt like he was going to be sick. Having your own abilities suddenly decide you would look better slammed into the concrete and then being told that you were essentially a ticking time bomb that could potentially level half the damn city simply by existing would do that to a person he supposed. "Ichigo." He twitched. Raising up to meet the gentle giant's silent concern, they locked eyes for a moment before he looked away, unable to answer the question held within. Was he okay? Good question.

"I-" He swallowed thickly, noticing how his hands tightened around Zangetsu's grip. Only then he realized he had neglected to sheath the blade and immediately set about rectifying this. He hoped the others were unable to see the way his hands shook as he did.

(They probably could.)

He… He needed some space. To be alone so he could just think and attempt to process whatever the fuck was happening right now with his body, with him. And this is pretty much what he told the others. (And if he was alone then at least he wouldn't take anyone with him.)

Urahara met this with a nod of understanding, hands drifting to his pockets. "I have something for you," He dug through them, pulling out a stick of gum and a rubber duck to which he quickly dismissed and tossed away. "It's only a prototype at the moment-" An innocuous looking green stone of indeterminate construction (it almost seemed to contain an unearthly glow) quickly joined the pile, "-but-" followed by a traffic cone and a stop sign (How did that even fit…?), "-if it works…" then a ball of multicoloured rubber bands and a roll of bandages (which were spared a moment's glance then lobbed over to a thankful Chad), "-it should be able to open up a portal to Hueco Mundo for you to go through," And, finally, out slipped the palm-sized device. "You know, if you, well…"

He trailed off, finger hovering above the sole button on the device for a second before he pressed down. "The portal will only be able to stay open for about a minute on this end but that should be long enough for you to make it through if you hurry."

Ichigo nodded and shifted so now that his friends were the ones in sight instead. He opened his mouth to say something but got cut off before the words had ever reached his tongue. "Go." The tallest of the trio said, "We'll take care of things here." He made certain that they could see the thanks in his eyes before he turned away. Taking a fortifying breath the substitute shinigami stared straight ahead. Only a minute huh? He could handle that.

"Ah well I suppose I should be getting back to the shop. Come along now Sado-kun, Ishida-san."

A beat, then two, and then suddenly he was standing before the static-filled void between worlds.

"Urahara-san aren't you forgetting something?"

He took a step. "Huh? Oh right! Wouldn't want to litter would we? Now let's see, there's this and oh wow! Forgot I had that and… huh? Could've sworn there were two…"

The last vestiges of conversation drifted from awareness with a crack as the mouth of the portal came down behind him and he let out the breath he hadn't known he had been holding. Mechanically, he started forward, legs automatically propelling him towards that land of eternal night. Maybe on the way there he could think of some way that he might just be able to pull his sorry ass out of the proverbial fire this time, and maybe, just maybe there would be no one around to hear his frustrated scream.

------------------------------------[ - XIV - ]--------------------------------

The rhythmic patter of footfalls and unsteady breaths trailed along as he ran. The solitary sounds in stark juxtaposition with the oppressive nothingness was what had finally allowed for the shock to break and everything else settle in. How long had it been now? It was as if he had been on a treadmill, running endlessly yet never getting anywhere. But surely that couldn't be so, he must've made some progress right?

… Right?

He wondered if they managed to make it back to the shop yet. (He tried not to remember deep red in the shape of a hand -his hand- to not picture white-and-silver-and-blue wracked in pain -that he had caused- or recall warm brown, kind yet tinted with a solemn silence and it was his own fault goddamn it-) He hoped they had. In his distraction the walkway he stood upon began to slip back into the ether and caused the teen to pitch forward a bit until he managed to right himself and continue on. It was just a bit before thoughts once more began to drift.

His family…

A niggling feeling of guilt wormed its way up his chest and settled heavily in his throat. He had promised to watch his sisters since their father was out of town for the weekend but now how was he supposed to do that if he couldn't even get near them (or anyone else for that matter?) What if they weren't able to fix things and he'd never be able to see any of them again? Something cold slithered down and joined its fellow in the depths of his heart. He wondered if anyone had went ahead and even bothered to tell them anything. 'Oh god they haven't had they?'

(With a dawning horror he imagined the two girls waiting for him to come home as they always did only to come to learn that their older brother just simply wouldn't be coming back this time and probably never would again. Yuzu would be devastated which would set Karin off because nobody gets away with upsetting her twin like that and then she would try to hunt him down so she could kick his ass and he'd completely deserve it too because what kind of brother does that to his sisters? But it'd all be in vain because he'd be dead and-) He tripped and caught himself once again.

"…" This was taking a very long time. Surely he should've made it somewhere by now shouldn't he? Did he manage to get himself lost on top of everything else? Had Urahara's sketchy invention been a dud? He did say it was a prototype. (Or maybe it was never meant to take him anywhere in the first place and the bastard had left him to die like-)

He shook his head. Well wouldn't that be just perfect, being forced to spend the rest of eternity trapped in the void until either his power tipped past critical and took him with it or he went irrevocably insane from the the fact that he just couldn't seem to find the damned exit- oh.

As if summoned, a bright light slipped onto his visual radar and seemed to grow nearer with every passing second. He quickly stomped on the breaks and screeched to a stop just before it, having came this close to missing the mark completely. Taking a step back, the teen carefully peered out into the distance at the sea of sand below. Very distant. Man he was high up. "Hn a fall like that would've- oof!"

Something slammed into his back, knocking him off-kilter and sending him flailing through the open portal. Suddenly he was falling and those 'distant sands' didn't look quite so distant anymore.

Ichigo screamed. -------------------------------------[ - XV - ]------------------------------- … A****. … Wh. .re … ..ing? …? Yo. ..n't .. ..mfor…le ..ke .h.. .. .et up. (…Nngh.) Co.. .. .ow ..u .ren't ..ving up on m. .r. y..? (W-Who?) Do… yo. re…ber? (I don't…?) Sta.. .n .our ow. ..o .eet Al***, kee. m…ng for..rd wit..ut hesi..ti.n. Eve. .f .ts jus. one st.. at a t..e, walk. .ow enoug. lyi.. aro..d. Get up. (What?) Get up All- --------------------------------[ - XIV - ]------------------------------------ He inhaled sharply and was instantly rewarded with a mouth full of sand. Sputtering, he noted how this was starting to become a pattern. One that seriously needed to stop. He shifted around to lay sprawled out on his back, eyes clamped shut as his breathing evened out. Ichigo took a moment to just stay like that. God, everything hurt. With head turned a bit to the side he finally decided to open his eyes…only to find a face a breath away from his own. He swore.

"Well that's one way to wake up." The figure remarked dryly. Ichigo's mouth opened slightly before he paused then slowly let it fall shut. Brown eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he took in the figure that stood before him only to widen again when he drew back in confusion. '…Tensa?' He blinked. No, that… didn't make any sense. For a number of reasons, actually.

The first of which being the fact that -if his surroundings were any indication- he was not currently within his inner world at the moment.

(That is to say, if the place hadn't up and decided one day that it wanted to look exactly like the Hueco Mundo for no other reason than to simply make him confused.) Sure, there was the possibility that the spirit had decided to manifest into the physical realm for whatever reason but that just gave rise to even more questions. Like why was he even in that form to begin with? The last time he checked he hadn't entered bankai or anything like that so there was really no reason for him to be that way. Unless… whatever was going on was affecting his zanpakuto too? Hn actually… now that he looked closer there was a slight difference or two between the being before him and the spirit of memory. (But still the resemblance was uncanny.)

… And the guy was staring at him. Had he zoned out?

"You okay? You didn't hit your head there did you?" An eyebrow hiked up slightly but the expression was otherwise impassive. Yep, he had. But that was besides the point. The awkward silence stretched between them for a bit longer until the other finally asked, "You just going to keep sitting there?"

"Um…" He replied smartly.

Not-Tensa rolled his eyes and huffed. Hand extended, he proffered it for the other to grasp. When he made no move to do so he leaned forward"

"Ah don't-" -and firmly clasped it in his own. …What?

He hefted the balking teen up with ease, lips curved into a bland smirk as if he hadn't done something that which by all rights should've been impossible. Ichigo was certain he was gaping at the moment but seriously what the actual hell man? The way the other's eyebrow raised, as if to say 'what of it?' certainly wasn't helping matters any. Just who was this guy?!

Apparently either completely oblivious or someone who simply did not give a fuck to any kind of social convention if the way he now dragged him along was anything to go by. "H-Hold on a second! What the hell?! Let go!" Ichigo finally had the good sense to start struggling against the other's grasp but alas was unable to break free. Damn, the guy's grip was like iron. "Where are you dragging me?" That was definitely not a note of panic in his voice, nosiree. But the other merely ignored him as he hummed under his breath. The fingers of his free hand tapping rhythmically against his pants leg, as if they were sketching out a melody that only he were privy to. (He wondered briefly what that strange melody would sound like if it were played across the set of a fine ivory keyboard before he shook his head. Now wasn't the time for such things.) Abruptly the humming cut off. Then-

"What the hell is that?!" A doorway of ethereal white had flickered into view amongst the desert sands. The man's grip tightened as if sensing his suddenly renewed desire to abscond the fuck out of there and slowly began to drag him toward the light. It was at this point the teen began to struggle in earnest. Because okay, yeah, no. There was no way in hell he was going to let himself be placidly dragged along into whatever-the-fuck that was, weird zanpakuto doppelganger notwithstanding!

"Hey! I'm not-" A sharp tug had him nearly biting his tongue as he stumbled forward. Just barely able to catch himself in time and avoid a nasty spill he shot the man's back a dirty glare that sadly served to do little to help his predicament. He wasn't quite sure how but he thought he could feel the faint amusement bleeding from the man's frame. Asshole. And it was with that the struggling youth disappeared into the doorway of light. -------------------------------[ -XV- ]--------------------------------------- White.

That's all that he could see.

A empty town with white cobbled roads, white stone doors, white window frames, white wooden floors. Down a white hallway that lead to a white room with a white piano across from a white couch next to where he now stood. No matter where he turned there it was, that damned colour -or rather- lack of it. It sent a shiver up his spine. (A flicker of memory crossed his mind of a white moon in a dark sky across endless white sands; of long -short- red -black- hair and brown -black- eyes, crying, crying; of black cloth and white stone and white hands stained red red red- "Ichigo!" "*****!") He blinked. How had he even wound up in this situation again? Oh right, that asshole. He strained against the vice-like grip with a huff. Suddenly the death hold was dropped as his kidnapper made to brush past him. The man padded across to where the instrument lay and promptly claimed its bench as his own. Upon having been seated he turned and gave a gesture for him to do the same. He did, keeping his eyes trained firmly on the other as he slowly shifted Zangetsu from his holster to rest conspicuously upon his lap. The action and its clear intent seemed to evoke a small smile from the other.

"Way you were thrashing I would've expected to be held at knifepoint sooner rather than later."

An utterly flat stare. "It's kind of hard to hold someone at knifepoint when the one with the knife is the one being dragged along through god-knows-where by a weirdo with no concept of personal space boundaries. But something tells me you already knew that." He drawled.

A conceding nod. "But not impossible if one was truly inclined." Not- Tensa added, looking over at the blade with an almost appreciative eye. "Not that it would have done much with your current state being what it is at the moment." Bright eyes gave the teen's hastily bandaged hand a significant look. Ichigo -refusing to rise to the bait snorted. He shifted forward, letting the damaged limb splay against the flat of the blade and met the other's gaze.

"And just who are you to care about a thing like that?" The man smirked.

"Well, truthfully I've held many a title over the years, some being more…creative than others. But I suppose something to best suit the current situation would be…hm yes. You can call me, ****!"

… What?

A bead of sweat dribbled down the young teen's spine as the heavy feeling of something utterly foreign and cold settled down upon him. The man had clearly said something so why couldn't he…? Quickly schooling his features, the teen then asked in as nonchalant of a way as he could manage: "Could you repeat that? I didn't quite catch it the first time."

The other's brow furrowed, a faint glimmer of something flickered through his eyes before it was gone. Ichigo watched as he did as he was asked, observing how the man's lips went slowly through the motions again to say his name and…nothing.

Complete and utter silence.

Even though he should've been able to, even though he could almost taste the sting of syllables on his tongue, he just couldn't make out a sound. The other's expression was inscrutable, a carefully bland mask as he observed but the teen paid it little mind because that thing right there? That's what did it for him. More than the other's inexplicable resistance to whatever weirdness that was going on with him, more than the strange portals to stranger bleached ghost towns and their unnerving (familiar) emptiness, it was that: the silence where it should not have been. That was what scared him.

"Well, this is a problem." The man sighed, "Although not much of a surprising one." And then in an undertone, "You always did like to make things unnecessarily difficult."

That last little bit drew the teen up short, successfully dragging him out of the beginnings of a downward spiral that he nearly found himself in. At least for the moment anyway. "You make it sound like we're already well acquainted." 'And I know I've never seen you before in my life.' He thought to himself. 'So there's no way.' Right?

"In a way, yes." Before Ichigo could ask what the hell that meant the man suddenly sat back and slapped his hands together, startling the boy. "I have an idea! Why don't we play a round of twenty questions?"

Okay, what?

The confusion must've been apparent because he went on to explain, "Understandable that you would have questions about any number of things. Things that I may or may not hold the answers to, so what better way to solve this little dilemma than with a bit of back and forth hm?"

"Okay first off: I'm…pretty sure that's not how 'twenty questions' works-"

"Semantics."

"-and second, something tells me that you'd be getting a lot more out of this deal than I would." And I'm not quite sure how I feel about that to be honest.

It was brief but he caught the faint flicker of something in the man's eyes before it was gone with an apathetic shrug, "Fair enough. But honestly, what have you really got to lose at this point? I mean with your condition…" The other trailed off with a significant look and that made his hackles rise.

'Oh I can think of a few things.' He thought, having to bite back the retort. His hand twitched faintly at his side. While it was true that he could perhaps get some of his many questions answered such as: 'How was it that you were able to grab me without a thought while my friends couldn't so much as touch me without getting hurt?' or 'What exactly are you because I know for a damn fact that there's no way you could be a normal human being or even a spirit for that matter with that creepy vibe you're giving off right now,' and his personal favourite: 'Why the hell can't I hear your name?' but was it worth it?

Some nagging feeling in the back of his mind whispered no; that giving this zanpakuto lookalike could potentially do more harm than good. This was further exasperated by the sensation that he felt emanating off of the man, something not too dissimilar from the one that he received from that damned shopkeeper. And if there was one thing that he had learned for certain it was to always be on your guard whenever that mad scientist was involved. But, that being said…

"Alright." He shifted forward with an acquiescing tick of the head, "Let's see what you got."

The man visibly brightened, "Knew you'd come around eventually. So why don't I start us off with something nice and easy like… oh, how about your name?"

('My name? Oh, why it's-')

…? The teen shifted slightly, settling back into the stiff fabric of the cushions. An orange brow hiked up just a bit. "Shouldn't you know already?"

"Of course, but it'd be rather rude not to allow you the chance to introduce yourself don't you think? After all it is usually the first introduction upon which one usually draws their opinion of another is it not?"

"I guess?"

"…" A blank smile. Slender digits traveled along the flat of the knife, an arrhythmic beat tapped along in their wake. "…" "… Well?" "Well what?" "Aren't you?" "Aren't I what ?" "Going to introduce yourself?" The other stated plainly, as if pointing out the obvious.

'Seeing as there isn't much of a damn point why would I?' He thought with a sort of blank incredulity because surely the man had to have been fucking with him, but no, from the expectant gaze trained upon him he realized that the guy was dead serious. Weird. He vented out a huff and proceeded to -in the single most sarcastic and utterly done voice that he could muster- say, "Hello I'm-"

('-A***n ***k*r-') "-Kurosaki Ichigo and I'm-" ('-an Exorcist-') "-a Substitute Shinigami. I think its been a real pleasure to have been able to hang out in this creepy colourless ghost town with only my zanpakuto's weird doppelganger for company, how about you?" "…Somehow I doubt all that." Said doppelganger deadpanned. "And what do you mean weird?" He added as an afterthought. Blatantly ignoring this the teen plowed on, "My turn, so where are we anyway?"

The man ceased his muttering and turned to look at the boy, "Just for the sake of clarification: do you mean in general or-" a gloved hand waved vaguely at the space around them, "-the room we're currently in, or perhaps even-"

"Just answer the damn question!" Ichigo barked, his patience finally having snapped.

The man seemed to blink and give him another one of those curious stares before finally something shifted and his eyes lost that playful glow. It was a subtle change but a definitive one, having the teen subconsciously sitting up a touch with a slight frown as the sobered air settled upon them. A brief irrational thought had him wonder if, just perhaps, he might have said the wrong thing but he pressed on. After all, he deserved at least that didn't he? Besides, he had seen all kinds of weirdness so whatever the man threw at him couldn't be that bad compared to some of the other things he'd witnessed. Probably.

The other leaned forward, carefully pressing the fingertips of his gloved hands together, "Tell me boy, are you familiar with the story of Noah?" "'Noah?'" He questioned, tasting the syllables as they rolled across his tongue. "Vaguely." Was the orange-headed teen's answer, tone contemplative as he flicked through old conversations in his mind's eye. "It's a story from the bible, isn't it?" Upon the other's look he elaborated, "My friend, Chad, his grandfather was born in Mexico and raised to be Catholic so when Chad was younger the two of them spent a lot of time together at the local church where they would pray and sometimes read from the scripture. Apparently that story used to be one of his favourites. I remember him telling me about it."

Chocolate eyes lifted to meet tarnished gold and he had to blink, had they always been that color? There was something haunting about those eyes that held him. A soul-searing pair with an intense otherworldly quality, not quite unlike another pair that he knew of, albeit, without the inverted scelera and the wild madness he knew that lie underneath. Hopefully anyway.

Shaking off the mental image he continued, "It was about this guy, Noah, right? God was apparently pissed at the world because humans -unsurprisingly- turned out to be a bunch of jerks all except for this one dude. So god then tells the dude to build this giant ship thing and to load up his family and a zoo on it because basically god told him he was gonna go to town on everyone else and didn't want them caught in the crossfire. And so everyone but them died and the world reset or something like that." His brow furrowed a bit as he thought back to remember just what had been said, "Sorry, it's kind of been a while since I heard it." Plus there had been a bit of paraphrasing too but he had gotten the gist of it more or less. And what if I were to say that story, or at the very least an unbastardized version of it, was but all too real?"

He was silent for a moment, "I'd say: all stories have to start somewhere. More often than not it's the craziest ones that have a basis in fact." A pause, "And would it be wrong to assume you had something to do with it?" The following silence was confirmation enough.

"Would you be willing to share then?" As if sensing the stirring of uneasiness he quickly added, "If not everything, then what you can?" He knew first hand what it was like to have things that you wanted to keep to yourself, painful insidious things forcefully locked away so that you never had to see-think-hear of them ever again in the light of day. He understood. But conversely, he also knew the danger of silence.

"In time, perhaps. The past is… complicated. For more reasons than you know." He murmured quietly, appearing for a moment as if weighted down with some great unfathomable burden. And then it was gone, replaced with what was beginning to become a familiar mask. "Back to your previous question, this place-" a gesture to the space around them, "-was once our home, among other things. 'The Ark' we deemed it, home to the clan of Noah. And this very room in which we now sit?" A faint smile flickered into being as he turned back to face the piano, hand running gently over the ivory keys. Shadowed eyes stared into the mid-distance, attention snagged by something that only he could see. "Its center-" Golden irises side-eyed him from where he sat, "-or Heart, if you will."

Ichigo felt his bandaged hand twitch faintly as his own heart decided to stop and skip a beat. This gave him a moment's pause as there was no rhyme nor reason for the action. "Yeah?" He said with a mental shake of the head and attempted to distract himself from the peculiar behaviour, "And what did you do in here?"

"A bit of this and that. Play piano." The man shrugged, "Other stuff."

"This 'other stuff' wouldn't just so happen to deal with anything that might bring about the apocalypse now would it?" He had honestly been half-kidding but when the other didn't respond he felt a minor spike of alarm. Seriously? The teen cleared his -suddenly dry- throat and, as if without any input from himself, the following escaped his lisp, "Just what is the Ark?"

The Noah froze, hand poised above the keys before slowly it retracted and fell limply back to his lap. "It's… The best way to describe it would be 'a world between worlds'; a sort of in-between place with many 'doors' that could lead to anywhere and anything that your mind could think of, and even some it can't." His lips curved into a little half-smirk, "I suppose you could compare it a bit to something like the Dangai with a couple of senkaimon thrown in but better looking and with marginally less things that would try to kill you at the moment."

'Like a doorway…' Chocolate eyes widened, "That white gate thing in the desert." "Mhm." He nodded. "Then…that thing you were humming…the way your fingers kept twitching…" A keen gaze trailed along to the only other thing with them in the everpresent white. 'As if you were playing a song…' "The Key."

Ichigo looked at him, "Key?" "An audi-visual system directory entered into a specific frequency only accessible via the correct pattern being paired with a certain physical device i.e.: a musical instrument for example." "So play the piano open the door." He summarized.

"Basically." The Noah shot him a vaguely amused look, "What? You didn't think this thing here was just for show did you?" "Ah, no." He coloured faintly. Not gonna lie though, he had been kind of wondering what its deal was though. "So, like, can anyone control it if they had the passcode or is there something extra that makes it user-specific or something?"

He quirked a brow, "Why, curious?"

"No." Yes. "I was just wondering if you had to be a pianist or if anything else would do." A small shrug.

"And just what's wrong with the piano?" Was it him or did the guy almost seem…affronted? He returned this with a blank stare and a vague gesture to said instrument, "I can't play for shit. Any instrument really." He thought for a second, "No wait, I can play guitar. Sort of. Chad's been giving me lessons."

The musician matched this with a blank look of his own. "…Right. You know? It's not that hard. C'mere I'll show you." Ichigo almost got up to follow until he remembered his current predicament. "Actually, it'd probably be a better idea for me to just stay over here ya'know?" He absently toyed with the frayed fabric that wrapped around his left wrist. There had been no time to find a proper bandage so he had used a strip of Zangetsu's cloth and he hoped the sword hadn't minded too much, it had been kind of an emergency after all so probably not.

The Noah stared him blankly for a second before a light seemed to click on. "Ah right, I suppose some other time then." Yeah, if he could ever get that random disintegration under wraps then sure. But until then he was better off staying away from important looking things, or anything alive for that matter. He'd probably wind up accidentally burning some poor bastard's skin off when they tried to touch him like what happened to Ishida and…wait.

"Hey, how did you grab me?" Seeing the look of confusion he clarified, "Back in the desert, you dragged me here. How?" Because by all rights he shouldn't have been able to do so. Not-Tensa tilted his head to the side, "You mean how did I escape injury via that ridiculous and unstable mess that you call your spiritual presence? Oh don't look so surprised, it'd literally be impossible not to notice." Gold eyes watched the teen keenly. "I assume you have some clue as to what is going on?" "I know what its doing-"

(a surge of power, the sharp crack of a body hitting pavement, burning flesh and a scream-) "But not why." The Noah finished. "I might have a theory." He pointed to the wrapped fist, "But I'm going to have to see that first." Dark brown eyes turned wary as their owner gave a hard stare, finally -lips taught- he followed with a slow nod. The cloth came off with little trouble, its purpose having been fulfilled and thus reabsorbed back into the spiritual fabric from where it came. This continued on until the very last little bit peeled off to reveal- "What the actual fuck?"

Bizarre. That was the only way to describe it. That long messy cut he had received what felt like a lifetime ago back at the shop had sealed over with this strange thing. He could see small flecks of it scattered around the back of his hand, sinking into the tan flesh, corrupting it . Hesitantly he felt along the edge, taking in the smooth almost glasslike quality and ethereal sheen. It felt warm, almost- (Innocent) A set of gloves gently took his hand. He started. "Its just as I thought."

Ichigo tore his eyes away to gape at the Noah. "What?" "That-" A nod to the hand, "-right there is the reason for all your problems." He shot the hand a look as though it had personally offended him somehow. "The sporadic power swells and blockages, mood swings, hell even the fact that you've still been able to galavant about as a patron of souls in the first place. Its all because of this." He gave the stone a tap, eliciting a shiver. The teen was torn between asking how he knew this and telling the man to back the hell off because he was too close but was cut off when he began to speak again, "You've probably been subconsciously syncing with it for weeks and all it needed was a single opening and bam you're an Accommodator."

"Okay." He carefully pulled his hand out of the other's grip, "So what am I supposed to do about that?" He sat back on his haunches and appeared to think it over for a bit before pulling a face, "Well there's nothing for it." He sighed, scratching the back of his head with a gloved hand. "Unless you want to spend the rest of your short existance in isolation -haunted by the weight of your failures as you begin your slow but assured descent into madness and subsequent self-destruction- you have to synchronize with it." The resigned way he said it, as if he were being put upon by something truly bothersome, made the teen twitch just a bit.

"So saying I do this thing, what happens?" "Well, it should allow for things to reach a stable equilibrium…" "But?" He prompted. "I'm not going to lie to you, once you choose to do something like this there isn't any going back. Because if you successfully manage to come out of this there's a strong possibility that things are going to be…different. You're going to be different. Different in ways that not even I could foresee."

"I see." He shut his eyes for a moment. The faces of his family and friends flashed though his mind in an instant. Silently he clenched his fist. 'No going back huh?' His focus shifted to the blade sitting on his lap and he remembered the spirit's words. To hesitate and he would be stuck here, trapped at a crossroads until time claimed him. To go back was a death sentence for certain. So that only left one thing, to move on and keep walking forward. He opened his eyes and met the golden gaze head on with a level stare. "What do I have to do?"

"Just try to focus on your left hand. Now, do you feel the swirling energies there in the center trying to mix and incorporate with your own?" "…Yeah?" "Let it. Don't try to fight it. Accept it." It hurt. A gloved hand reached up to cup the pained teen's cheek and he opened his eyes (when had they closed?) His hand burned with something fierce wrenching soul-deep and he felt his breath get caught on molten gold and warm skin bleeding into inhuman grey. The Noah shot him a rueful smile. "Then you say the magic words."

Lips moved unbidden with a memory long forgotten, "Innocence: Activate." And the world flashed a dizzying whirl of grey-blue-green-white and then went dark. --------------------------------[ - XIV - ]------------------------------------ "It's time to get up now my little nephew, you've been asleep long enough. Get up Allen. Wake up." --------------------------------[ - XV - ]------------------------------------Waking up somewhere with a head full of memories that one had not had prior to falling unconscious was a hell in of itself and suffice to say he currently had the mother of all headaches. If it were not for the fact that he had sworn off alcohol both in this life and the last (and boy wasn't that a thought) he could've sworn this was what a hangover felt like. He bit back a groan. Where was he anyway? The last thing he remembered was the moonlit sands of Hueco Mundo before being dragged upon the Ark by his insufferable arse of an uncle. Who also knew that the Ark's reach appearantly extended into the afterlife and neglected to tell him. He'd have to talk to him about it when he was less annoyed at him of course because the Noah was kind of on his shit list at the moment. Afterall, not only had he somehow managed to disguise himself and convince him that he had been a sword spirit of all things, he had done so all the while binding up the true essence of his powers. Thus allowing for things to escalate so out of hand that he couldn't successfully hold back the flood anymore resulting in their impromptu powwow in the Ark. A perfectly reasonable excuse to be mad at somebody, right? And, okay so he might not've actually remembered him or his penchant for pulling shit like that at the time but now he did and it was the principle of the matter and seriously who the hell does stuff like that?!

"Someone who actually has a sense of self-preservation, unlike yourself."

The youth started. Well 'started' is a bit of an understatement, more like: jerked up and awake with a yelp before getting immediately slammed with a vicious wave of vertigo sending one careening head-over-heels to the floor. He cracked an eye open and stared blearily up at the ceiling. Allen (or was it Ichigo now? Urgh, this was gonna get confusing…) stared blankly at the familiar walls painted black in the pre-dawn hour. His room, he was in his room and that was his bed that he had just fell off of like an idiot. Vaguely he felt the Noah's amusement filter through the back of his mind. The bastard was laughing at him right now.

Muttering a few choice words under his breath, he leveraged himself up and ran a hand through his already disheveled hair with a sigh. Had he woke anyone else with that little spill just now? He froze, taking a second to listen and see if he could hear if either of the girls had stirred. (Sisters! He had sisters!) Hm, seems like they were still asleep. Good, it was still kind of early after all. Satisfied with his assessment he allowed himself a moment to simply not think and just take everything in and confirm that, yes, this was indeed his room that his mortal body was now currently in. How did he even get back here anyway? He had the sneaking suspicion that his uncle had something to do with it. Well there was no sense beating around the bush. "Neah?" He asked catching the other's attention, "Did you do something to me?"

"Now what makes you think that?" He made sure the other could feel the flatness of his look. "You honestly think I would take advantage of your indisposed state to 'borrow' your body for my own personal use? Why Allen I'm almost insulted-" Yes, because you've done it before. Multiple times. "-really, have you no faith my nephew? For shame."

"Neah what did you do ?" The youth asked with a growing sense of alarm.

"Oh, nothing." A nonchalant shrug, "By the way did you know Kisuke's shop has a rather impressive stock of sweets? Some of them I haven't even seen in centuries! Apparently Tessai likes to custom make them in his free time, not something people really take the time to do anymore these days you know?" Whatever alarm he had felt had multiplied tenfold as the other blithely went on. "Oh he left you a note by the way."

"What?" "On the back of your hand -no not that one the other one- yes your right." He flipped the limb over and blinked at the messy scrawl in what looked to be (and knowing the blond probably was) permanent marker pen. From there he began to read: "'Ichigo (or whatever relevant name you may now go by), after you left for your understandable and completely justifiable alone time it was brought to a general concensus that I, being the bright and incredibly humble shopkeep that I am-" He had to snort at this, "- would be the one to help find a solution for your little problem. (It should also be said that your friends can put up quite the convincing argument expessially when aided by Inoue-san's intriguing and -dare I say it- somewhat terrifying imagination.) And I was all set up to do so until -imagine my surprise- I found that the problem had up and resolved itself! Naturally my curiosity was piqued and it was only with the apperance of a certain somebody that the questions I had were oh so graciously answered. He was even willing to indulge the curious scientist in me for a bit!-'"

"What?!" The teen hissed, stopping himself for a second as narrowed eyes stared down at the scribbled text. The Noah of course offered no explanation and he sighed. Resigning himself to a month's worth of paranoia and check-overs in order to see if the two madmen had done anything else to him.

A mental nudge drew his attention back to the note, "'-So it was upon further examination that we found with the assistance of the substance (of what I'm now informed is to be known as Innocence - fascinating stuff really-) now present in both your physical and spiritual bodies there was created a sort of stabilized equilibrium so that you are no longer in danger of a catastrophic meltdown, congrats! Oh and I'm not mad at you for what happened to my shop and the Innocence samples, the data you provided was more than enough to cover what you owed for the damages.'" He twitched ever so faintly.

"Don't forget the post-script!" 'There's more?' He flipped it over to his palm, "P.S. Tell your uncle I said hi! He's given me such great ideas and that Tessai's always willing to talk over tea again. Oh and enjoy the new hair, it looks quite good on you! Bye-bye~ Kisuke'" He let the hand fall. So he wasn't a ticking time bomb anymore, that was good. But the thought of his uncle and the dubious shopkeep being anywhere remotely near one another caused him to shudder.

"Oh come on, he's not that bad." His uncle chided.

"Yes he is and so are you. You're both horrible, horrible monsters who thrive on chaos and destruction and proceed to drag anyone unlucky enough to be within blast-radius down with you via your own personalized brands of insanity." He intoned flatly, "And what did he mean hair?!"

"Now before I say anything I don't want you to freak out. It was a bit of an unexpected side effect from the transition but don't worry you look fine. And, hey, it's not like you're a stranger to having weird hair." "Neah you are terrible at reassuring people now what happened to my hair?" He attempted to tug at the short strands to no avail. "You might've gone a bit prematurely grey but like I said its not that much of a big deal. It isn't completely white, just… most of it." He was quick to offer.

"My hair's white?" Again? Damn it all, of all the things to carry over. He'd already been through this once with certain people (who shall remain nameless) calling him 'strawberry' he didn't need to be 'beansprout' as well. He groaned softly and flopped back, arm shielding his eyes. At least he hadn't been cursed with a lack of height this go around like a certain snow-headed captain that he knew.

He lifted the arm and stared at it. Tired eyes traced the contours of the reddened flesh as he slowly flexed, watching as the embedded stone glimmered with its own quiet light. A small frown graced his lips. This was quite the fine mess that he had gotten himself in wasn't it?

What was he supposed to now? Sure he could always dye his hair but what of his arm? Long-sleeved shirts and gloves would only work for so long and what of his personality? You can't exactly hide a whole lifetime's worth of memories and experiences forever, not without having those close to you start to worry. And it'd be an icy day in hell before he let something like that happen. So they'd have to come up with something to keep them from freaking out…and then what? Once everything was said and done where did they go from there? What was there for a once-exorcist turned-substitute-shinigami and the Noah that he housed who just so happened to be his past incarnation's adopted uncle? "Well whatever there is we'll just have to persevere through it for better or worse. Besides it isn't as though you haven't had your own fair share of problems before, now have you?"

He had a point. He just had to keep walking huh? The youth's lips curved into a bittersweet smile. Yeah, he could do that.

#DS7's Log #-carefully adds to the archive-#Bleach Fanfiction #D.Gray-Man Fanfiction #Second Verse Same As The First AU #Just reposting this because I feel a little less self conscious about my work than I did back when I first took it down.#Also this seems to be actually pretty popular??? Which is absolutely wild if you ask me.#Playing fast & loose with canon because I can and will do as I damn well please and may my only own hubris and eventual pc problems stop me #Honestly the whole reason this exists is because I love weird reincarnation crossovers and that Tensa tangentially looks like Neah.#And there's no reason /whatsoever/ that Neah/Tensa so happens to resemble Yhwach. Mhm definitely a coincidence yessirie!#>:3 #Neah and Urahara get along like two territorial feral cats that would just as well as set the world on fire for kicks.#Don't worry. Actual Zangetsu is still there.#He was just sort of in the background taking a long nap from their stint with Aizen until that Innocence smacked him awake.#When once it finishes sealing the gaps in his power he is going to have some /words/ with Neah.

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