returnofaion

[returnofaion]

Did Tsuki go to school like a normal person when he was a kid?

"My earlier years of schooling were fairly normal, I would say. However, once Kugo saved me, it wasn't possible to stay in one place for very long. Formal education was simply outside the realm of what was safe for us at the time."

"But don't take that to mean my education stopped. We made due with textbooks and libraries, and being a voracious reader anyway, it really wasn't difficult to finish my education unofficially. And after I made acquittances with some professors, well, I was able to elevate that learning beyond what most can achieve through official means."

#◜◷◞ [the unwritten past]: headcanons #tsp activity check

[returnofaion]

“Nothing of me is original. I am the combined effort of everyone I’ve ever known.”

— Chuck Palahniuk

#◜◷◞ [philosophy of the self]: musings

[returnofaion]

jaegersol​:

It sure looks like a zanpakuto to Grimmjow’s eyes. Got the non-traditional hand guard and personalized detailing and everything. Pretty dense with reiryoku too - but still. Not quite enough. Not even enough to mimic the blade he wears himself, a false zanpakuto in her own right. Pantera is closer than this though.

It’s still a nice weapon. He can’t really see anything about it that makes it any better than any other sword though, except that this guy pulled it out of a bookmark.

Concealment? Seems like a pretty lame party trick. Good for a quick draw but beyond that… He doesn’t get more time to consider the weapon.

Grimmjow flinches hard away, pesquisa spreading out in rapid pulses to compensate for the sudden total loss of visual and auditory information as the explosion detonates in his face. Loud and bright. Painful to his senses, though harmless to him physically. He lashes out on instinct in Tsukishima’s direction, claws flashing through the air, dark with silky fur to create space. He finds something hard. Not skin. He’s not sure what it is, but it deflects his blow, and he reels back again, into a sonido to get himself the space he needs while the noise rings out of his ears and his vision blinks back into focus around the too-bright stars.

What was that? The fucking book?!

The pull he had on the air protected his senses slightly from the explosion, but it still feels like he set off a firework in his own face. He feels the air in front of his abdomen shiver with a blocked strike, and Tsukishima shakes the sirens out of his ears as best as he can, Fullbring flashing under his feet as he moves away. The souls of the buildings and objects around him is as bright in his mind as the dancing lights are behind his eyes.

Well, he bought himself some space at least. It's a shame neither of them can really see or hear so he could goad the Arrancar more.

Using the respite to recalculate briefly, Tsukishima decides it's best to relocate. Karakura is a big town, and even that minor explosion is likely to attract attention.

He doesn't bother hiding his presence, as he Fullbring skips his way across the town, but he does wonder if Grimmjow realizes he's headed in Ichigo's direction.

#◜◷◞ [PUBLISHED PASTS]: threads #tsp activity check #jaegersol #ooc: Tsuki I didn't start the fight but I know who can end it #he is aware that 'running' will likely cause Grimm to give chase if anything he's counting on it

[returnofaion]

What Jewel Are Your Bones Made Of?

OPAL oh you are everything! indecisive. chamelonistic. flighty. multitalented. innovative. extraordinary. jacck of all trades and master of all you touch. containing multitudes. you catch the light in different ways and all of them are you. you gat more selves than the rest of us, my darling. take this gift and use it well.

Tagged by: @mirokusaki

Tagging: I am so so late, so anybody who also missed out at the time.

#◜◷◞ [the unwritten past]: headcanons #ooc: this was surprisingly accurate for him

[returnofaion]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 - 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐒 𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

RULES: bold which trope you prefer (or, in some cases, maybe just hate the least!) out of each of the following pairs

SLOWBURN or love at first sight (but with something at first sight)

FAKE DATING or secret dating

ENEMIES TO LOVERS or best friends to lovers

OH NO THERE’S ONLY ONE BED or long-distance correspondence

HURT/COMFORT or amnesia

FANTASY AU or modern au

mutual pining or DOMESTIC BLISS

SMUT or fluff

CANON-COMPLIANT or fix-it

reincarnation or CHARACTER DEATH

one-shot or MULTI CHAPTERS

kid fic or ROAD TRIP FIC

ARRANGED MARRIAGE or accidental marriage

COLLEGE ROMANCE or middle aged romance

time travel or ISOLATED TOGETHER

neighbors or ROOMMATES

sci-fi au or MAGIC AU

BODY SWAP or genderbend

ANGST or crack

APOCALYPTIC or mundane

Tagged by @jaegersol (and @lewdestconcubine over on my Aizen)

Tagging: anyone that wants to

[returnofaion]

What is your literary archetype?

Tagged by: @desk-work-expert

Tagging: Anyone as late as I am

#◜◷◞ [comedy is a literary device]: crack post #[[ooc: these are always both immensely difficult to do for Tsuki and fun to puzzle out #And the result makes me think of that one Cacao Society (?) BBS Tsuki tbh.

[returnofaion]

lewdestconcubine​:

Tsukishima turns around and Szayel is happy to see his face once more.  Szayel will never not hunger for presence, validation, want, purpose.   He’s acknowledged, and that’s more than he’s had in a long, long time.  

“But of course,” he says, head bowing ever so slightlly.  “It would be rude of me to know you were here and not inquire about your needs and wellbeing.”  

But, he’s denied.  Not by much.  If anything, it’s the insinuation that Tuskishima will be caring for himself, rather than asking Szayel to make him something that weighs the heaviest on Szayel.  

“All right then,” he says.  

His hand softly runs over the much taller man’s back.  Szayel can’t help but give affection.  He’ll give it to anyone regardless of how he’s treated.  Being allowed to be near at all is something he’s clung to in the absence of any other care.

But he knows that he’ll be needed for something at some point, whether in five minutes, 5 hours, or 5 days.  Hie makes his way back to the parlor and curls up on the small sofa, picking up a magazine on the end table beside it to read.

Subtle though it is, the minor subservience in the lack of comment is something that has Tsukishima withholding a pleased smirk. The unspoken weight hovering in those three words is like blood in the water to him.

It has perhaps been too long since he truly challenged himself. But this little game would be an amusing homecoming at least.

He’s careful not to react more strongly than an absentminded hum of agreement. But he doesn’t deny Szayel his bit of affection. Maybe in the future, he’d make even that come at a price. At the moment though, he doesn’t care either way. 

Time passes in a series of mundane acts that nonetheless further his game. Food prepared and eaten, dishes cleaned, kitchen set to rights: in another dynamic these would be nearly meaningless. Assuming he knew Szayel as well as he believed he did, here they would be little pinpricks of discontinuity, of insecurity, of rejection.

The shower washes away the worst of the aches from overusing his Fullbring, as much as anything besides sleep can. It leaves him even more room to think. He’s put them in a bit of a holding pattern, to answer the itching question of whether Szayel would try to leave or if he would beg for his attention first. It didn’t truly matter, either end would be fun for him.  

Fresh, and too mentally awake to rest yet, he takes himself down to the parlor, settling in to read in his favorite window seat across from Szayel. 

#◜◷◞ [PUBLISHED PASTS]: threads #lewdestconcubine #tsp activity check #[[ooc: I meant for this to be shorter but Tsuki lives to make everything more difficult than it needs to be #He's also being a pain because what he's doing isn't easy to write #at least not initially #dark take on slow burn I guess #?

[returnofaion]

His head tilts to the side, considering for a moment. The metaphor is a stretch.

"You seem to be speaking for yourself, if you believe seeking any sympathy from me is attainable."

His book is in his hand, and he deftly uses his thumb to flick it open to the page his bookmark rested in. One charming smile is all he directs at the woman before his eyes seek out his story.

"But by all means, continue. I'm quite good at pretending to listen."

‘*sits down next to you and sympathetically looks into your eyes* i don’t care’

@returnofaion

She looks at him and can't stop the single bark of laughter that leaves her lips.

"It's cute that you think that your feelings matter one iota. Like a monkey reaching for the moon in his reflection, thinking it's possible to fit it in his grasp."

She sighs.

"But I must say. You may be an effective therapist, given that it's likely that it's what any doctor wants to say to the majority of patients, but keeps to himself to collect a hefty sum."

Sharp eyes flick over him.

"You really do have a sweet face, even if it is a mask."

#◜◷◞ [published pasts]: threads #tsp activity check #royaldreamweaver #[[ooc: if you want to explore an evil Shu verse with Tsuki I'm all game!

[returnofaion]

Well that answered one of his questions. Partially.

“How do I know him? Oh, we’ve run into each other a few times.” The half-truth slips guiltlessly from his lips, and he remains sitting so as to appear as friendly and non-threatening as possible. He remained wary of his surroundings, however.

“Tell me, what brings you out here to the Rukongai? Are you on a mission for your Papa?”

@poisonousreverie​ || Open Starter Call

For some reason, no matter how well he shielded his reiatsu and found a clever hiding spot, Tsukishima could not find a place to read undisturbed. If it wasn’t Ganju or Riruka, it was-

A child? Tsukishima’s head tilts a bit in surprise at the sight that accompanied the unfamiliar reiatsu. But she was definitely garbed as a shinigami, so he came to the decision to proceed cautiously. With care, he marks his place in his book as he smiles at the newcomer, but leaves the pages open.

“Well hello there,” he greets. “How can I help you?”

#◜◷◞ [published pasts]: threads #tsp activity check #poisonousreverie

[returnofaion]

jaegersol​:

The human can manipulate the reiryoku of thinks that doesn’t belong to it. That is even more interesting than whatever the weird speed thing is, which if Grimmjow looks closer, pesquisa feeling across the other’s motion, he determines is the other using the reiryoku loose in the air itself.

Weird.

Lethal too, if someone was proficient enough with a skill like that. He wonders if the calmness comes from the knowledge that he can somehow pull on Grimmjow’s soul like that, or if it’s just a rather effective mask.

Either way, Grimmjow always appreciates when the cool, rational Ulquiorra’s fall for the reckless delinquent persona he wears. He doesn’t got the social skills or the brains for emotional and mental manipulation games, but this shit is easy. Act loud and big and people think he’s an idiot. Compared to a lot of them, maybe he is.

He learned a thing or two from getting downed so pathetically by the quincy the first time. He got lucky then, the other hadn’t followed up to really check if he was dead. He’s not so lackadaisical anymore. Less and less commonly does he swat flies, more often then not they got teeth in there somewhere.

He’s not waiting underneath the sword when it finally appears, already having used his speed to duck in close and snap out with a hand to grab for the man’s wrist, twisting and shoving their weight into a spin so he can examine the weapon the other pulled from nowhere.

“Not a zanpakutō, is it. Sharp though, what’s it do?” Cuz of course it has a trick to it. “Everyone has a fuckin’ gimmick now.”

Surprise briefly breaks the calm mask Tsukishima usually wears as his maneuver is forcibly redirected, the change in inertia travelling through his muscle and bones. The arrancar is faster than he had anticipated, and he's as surprised by that as he is that no true damage had been done to him.

Yet.

He doesn't fight the hold on his wrist. Instead, he rebuilds his unaffected countenance and pulls the book off the katana, letting it slice a few pages as the book slips shut.

"You're correct, this isn't a zanpakuto. I'm no Soul Reaper, by any means." He cocks his head, regarding the Fullbring trapped between their arms. He had no reason to overshare, but he didn't have to lie either. "What does it do, hm? As you stated, it's quite sharp, and it can cut through basically anything."

He considers the book in his free hand, holding it up. This was likely going to be unpleasant and be a regrettable loss of good literature. "I suppose you've succeeded in ruining my reading. I'm not even certain I remember my page..."

While he speaks, Tsukishima fullbrings the air against his skin as a shield of sorts - reasonable given Grimmjow's penchant for going after soft organs -, and in less than a heartbeat, the past of the book is altered. He thumbs open the book between them as if looking for his page.

The flashbang that goes off is small, but every physical sense he possesses is assaulted at once.

#◜◷◞ [published pasts]: threads #tsp activity check #jaegersol

[returnofaion]

tigretranquilo

Chad waits patiently for Tsukishima to acknowledge him as well as to notice his condition. It takes a few moments for him to do so, but now that he looks closer it’s obvious to see that he interrupted the man. Thankfully he doesn’t seem too bothered by the interruption Even if he doesn’t like to admit it, he could use some assistance right now. A friendly face, wouldn’t hurt either. It seems as if Tsukishima plans on accompanying back to Xcution, which is also good as he’s been there so few times he still has to think about the directions. Once Tsukishima is ready Chad starts to walk, he moves a little slower than his usual pace. But he supposes for now that is to be expected. “There wasn’t a fight,” he states. He knows that much at least. “I can’t remember. I think I was on my way home from school. I might have fallen or walked into something?”

"How can you be sure there wasn't a fight if you don't remember what happened? Tsukishima muses, voice calm and curious.

The easy amble - for him anyway - gives Tsukishima time to observe and think as they walk. There was no blood, and Chad's pain seemed localized to one side. The amnesia, well, that could be caused by foul play or head trauma. The simplest solution was an accident - perhaps a car had hit him and fled.

But most things were rarely simple in their world.

"Let's get you back to headquarters. Even if it wasn't an accident, you'll be safe there until we can get you patched up."

⛈ Find my muse after some kind of trauma

Chad had feel a deep pain in his leg and side as his sides as he walks. He’s inclined to ignore it and to push on, even if it is causing him to limp. He’ll be fine he always is. Besides he’ll soon reach his destination.

But the truly terrifying thing is for the life of him Chad can’t remember what had happened or why he is heading to the Xcution building instead of his home or where he was before.

He doesn’t see any signs of bleeding, which lead him to believe the simplest answer that he tripped or walking into something. It wouldn’t be the first time and it explains everything. It must have been on his way home from school. Where else would he have been this time of day?

Still the lack of memories bother him, not that he will admit that. As he keeps walking he spots a tall familiar figure. Tsukishima. In all honestly it’s a relief to see a familiar face, so Chad slows to greet him. “Tsukishima-San were you on your way back?”

#tsp activity check #◜◷◞ [published pasts]: threads #tigretranquilo

[returnofaion]

Why do you think Tsukishima’s fullbringer developed the way it did?

“You want to know why my personal fullbring became Book of the End? That’s such a deeply personal question, and from a stranger no less.”

“Hmm... but I can’t see any reason not to indulge you with an honest answer. It’s an interesting question at least.”

“Fullbringers are quite rare. It’s even more rare for them to grow to adulthood and develop their Fullbring to its final form. I’d say the members of Xcution were the exception rather than the rule. Too often our abilities, however undeveloped, make us - and by extension anyone close to us - magnets for hollow. Had Kugo not came along when he did, I’d likely have ended up just another child who met their demise too young.”

“But Kugo only gave me the opportunity to develop my Fullbring. It doesn’t explain why it became Book of the End. That’s...complicated, I suppose you would say. To be brief... A fully formed Fullbring is an intricate, symbiotic relationship between the object of focus and its wielder. As both souls share similar experiences, the connection deepens. But it’s a bidirectional influence. The wielder’s circumstances and choices determine what is experienced and how the object gets used. But the object’s soul determines the form and abilities of the final Fullbring.”

“Hmm...I’ve never really questioned why Book of the End became what it did. The why of it never seemed important in light of everything else that happened while growing up under Kugo’s tutelage. Evading the Soul Society and fending off Hollow attacks has a way of shifting one’s perspective in that way. Obviously, my bookmark has always been an important object to me. I’ve always loved reading, and I imagine my bookmark’s soul would have been influenced by the souls of all the books it has been used in as much as my other experiences. It would have experienced repeatedly how the accumulation of experiences and plot points results in a different end.”

“But that would be the perspective of the bookmark’s soul. From my perspective, I can’t say I really remember much from my life before Kugo. I was young, and there wasn’t much to forget, if I’m being frank. My mother died when I was quite young. I suspect it was a hollow, but I can’t say for certain. From what little I recall, hmm, I suppose you could call my father reticent and withdrawn. And, well, like I said, fullbringer children tend to attract hollow, which can make us seem rather unlucky to anyone who happens to be too near. I can’t say I blame him for keeping his distance. And while I wouldn’t say I was shy, I was introverted to a fault. I much preferred my books to friends. But when my father was killed in that last hollow attack... I found myself painfully alone. Until Kugo found me and took me under his wing, at least.”

“But that’s the crux of Fullbring, you see. It’s a combination of our strongest need at the time of our awakening and the function of the object. If I insert Book of the End into a soul, I am able to know the cumulative total of that soul’s memories - just as my bookmark experiences the memories of the souls’ of all the books I’ve read. And as part of that power, I’m able to locate and manipulate the major “plot points” along that soul’s development. For people... well the most important memories tend to involve other people, don’t they? And while I had Kugo to erase the loneliness - and through him all the others - that moment of aloneness made its mark. Inserting myself into the pasts of others was almost second nature once Book of the End had finally developed to that point.”

“I suppose sharing something like that would be too deeply personal for most. But what’s a little heartfelt sharing amongst friend, hm?”

#◜◷◞ [THE UNWRITTEN PAST]: headcanons #tsp activity check #[[ooc: I don't usually answer asks like this ic #but uh someone decided to be talkative

[returnofaion]

reservedhealer​:

Surprise flitted over her countenance at being addressed by name. Among colleagues and close friends, that would have been natural. From a stranger, however, it was disconcerting, particularly since she believed she lacked the clout or reputation to warrant such acknowledgement. Still, an uncertain nod was given in answer as the only polite thing to do in present circumstances. It was bad form to turn away someone in need when they had come in search in aid. Illness and injury did not discriminate, and neither did the Fourth when the ailing party intended it no harm.

“Yes, I see,” she murmured as the diagnostic Kaido revealed things were more concerning than her charge had let on. Her instinct as a physician told her that he ought to be admitted to the hospital wing for proper treatment and monitoring. There had been a considerable amount of blood lost, rapid breathing, obvious fatigue, unease and he was somewhat pale. Her training as a Shinigami demanded he should be treated with extreme caution, owing to his past deeds and the fact that he had clearly fled from a violent encounter – one involving blades, if the wounds and cuts were anything to go by. Running through her preliminary analysis, she made an educated guess that he had met with an unexpected ambush from more than one quarter in an attack that was likely coordinated. Given the precise blows instead of wild assault over his frame, she surmised his opponents had gone in with an intent to incapacitate rather than kill as internal organs were unharmed. But the deep lacerations and the severity of some of the wounds also hinted at a ruthless willingness to shatter the outward body.

“I’m sorry you weren’t left in peace despite the general amnesty for you and your comrades. Captain Kurotsuchi doesn’t always heed official directives.” Isane shook her head with a resigned sigh as she dissected her caller’s explanation. Grasping one of his hands and frowning at its cold clamminess, she held the middle finger and flicked down against the nail. At the lack of a involuntary and quick flexing of his index finger and thumb, she nodded to herself. The nod gave way to a sound of quiet satisfaction when she repeated the test on his other hand and received the same result. “You won’t start seizing from any of the known poisons of his, so you should be in the clear. Your symptoms are more in line with blood loss. If he wanted to render you unconscious or immobile, he would have used poison once you were coralled into a designated location instead of these uncouth methods, I think,” she opined, performing another diagnostic Kaido for poisons to be sure. Once satisfied that nothing was too amiss, she bade him: “Please remove your shirt. You can have one of mine before you leave.”

Inasmuch as some aspects of her patient’s worrisome state were clarified in his account, it brought other questions to the fore. The latest captains’ meeting had made it clear the Fullbringers in Soul Society were not to be harmed or arrested for the time being due to several ambiguities in that which had passed between the former Substitute Shinigami and the deceased Ukitake. A formal investigation had been launched to uncover what had truly transpired as well as the hows and whys, much to the annoyance of Central 46. She did not doubt there had been much behind-the-scenes wrangling on Kyoraku’s part as the conservative faction within Central still regarded the Fullbringers and their head as criminals. It was fortunate for all, including non-Shinigami, that Kyoraku knew how to twist Central’s arm. They needed to foster peace and dialogue more than ever after coming out of the war, she mused with a tired sigh. Mayuri had been noticeably absent from that captains’ meeting, which certainly gave him plausible deniability if questioned about his actions vis-à-vis her new patient. It was probable he had not bothered to read the circular on the stay of any arrest or execution of the Fullbringers that was disseminated to all Divisions. Even if he had read it, he could make some other outrageous claim that he had not sought to put an end to them and that he was only maiming them a little and keeping them ‘away from harm’.

“You’re safe here. We don’t interfere in the business of another Division,” Isane assured him with a sympathetic pat to his knee before a soft, determined note entered her inflexion. “As long as you’re here, you are a patient and under the protection of the Fourth. If there are poisons, well…” Her lips curved slightly as she rose to open one of the overheard cabinets of the display cupboards and took down a kit with bandages and a larger medical chest. “There’s such a thing as fighting poison with poison.”

Upon placing those new items on the floor, she stooped briefly to examine his back, shoulder and dominant arm. “Let’s clean you up and see what we can do. I think you should stay put until you feel well enough. When you need to go… Well, as far as we know, you were never here,” she said bracingly, making her way to the kitchen and preparing a basin of clean water and another with warm soapy water. These were brought back with a towel as soon as she tied back her sleeves and washed her hands. “Please bear with the discomfort,” cautioned she while disinfecting his wounds and running through the treatment she had in mind to put him at ease. “I’ll use a local anaesthetic to minimise your pain. The deep cut on your arm needs to be sutured. The large gash on your back will require staples. Absorbable variants for both will be used. The shallower injuries can be treated easily enough. The shoulder wound will require more work as I have to check if the bone is all right. If the bone isn’t in any danger, ants may be used to help close the wound if the area is too delicate for stitching. Kaido will be used after everything to facilitate healing and replenish some of your reiatsu. That may feel odd and invasive if you’re unaccustomed to it. You will be bandaged after all everything is done. If you need to rest, there is the sofa in my study.”

At the apology for her colleague's actions, Tsukishima gave only a weary nod, causing his head to spin with the movement. Truthfully, if it had been Kugo sitting here - well, he never would have come. The distrust ran too deeply. Tsukishima rarely felt so strongly, and he held no grudge for his chosen recourse.

His hands are manipulated, and he watches in tired bemusement at the flicking. His eyes flick slowly from the digit to Isane's face. "That's...comforting. I think," he murmurs, slow and dubious and mirroring the Captain's little qualifier. Known poisons is a disclaimer that left him narrowing his eyes at his own hands in unease. "You've had experience treating his victims, I take it?"

Tsukishima frown deepens at the order to shed his shirt, not from reticence, but from a distinct worry that too much movement would be the nail in the coffin of his final reserves. His eyes angle down, and the hand attached to his better shoulder raises to begin undoing buttons. His fingers are uncharacteristically clumsy, the tips cold and numb against the slick plastic, and it takes more concentration than he cares to admit.

The pat to his knee derails his attention, and Tsukishima pauses to blink at the hand, then back up at Isane's face. The attempt at comfort is more than unexpected, and before he has a chance to process the kind act, she's rising and dousing his veins in cold unease with her next words. Fighting poison... with poison? For a long moment, he stays still while watching her actions, some of Kugo's suspicion bleeding into the fast pulse fluttering in his chest. But he's come this far, hasn't he? And he remembers these symptoms too well. He doesn't have the freedom of choosing a different option, even if it does turn out her intentions weren't pure.

A Herculean effort later, and the last of the buttons are undone and the fabric is shrugged from his shoulders with a grimace - some of the more shallow wounds had dried to the fabric already. He listens with only half his attention as she chatters about the treatment process, making vaguely agreeable or interested noises when he felt appropriate. The primary part of his attention is on steadying his pulse and breathing and entering the almost meditative disassociation that allows him to ignore the pain and control his reactions. He hadn't been exaggerating about being a tolerant patient, and the only outward signs of discomfort that escapes him area sharper exhale or a controlled twitch when a newer pain takes him off guard.

"Do what you will," he finally verbalizes. "The help is...appreciated, and I will trust your judgement. If I feel I must, I'll rest before leaving to regroup with Kugo."

#◜◷◞ [PUBLISHED PASTS]: threads #tsp activity check #reservedhealer

[returnofaion]

Tsukishima quietly smiles, slow and relaxed, at Szayel's straining. Really, given incentive, mere human bindings wouldn't hold him. But the mental ropes bind more thoroughly, and that's a thrill of it's own.

"Hmm. It's not exactly in the nature of Hollow or Espada to be well adjusted," Tsukishima remarks absently, but fondly, his attention more on binding down the next limb than the conversation itself. It's a familiar process, stretching Szayel across a kitchen table that has probably seen as much blood and flesh on it as it did food.

He glances up briefly, smile shifting into a smirk as he meets the golden pools. "Better to suffer for the whims and mistakes of another, huh?"

Tsukishima hums in thought. Whether or not Szayel realizes it, his words stoke the sadistically contrarian itch in the back of his brain. But it's not in his own nature to completely dismiss the structure of his own habits.

"I intend to stay awhile," he begins, eyes glinting in cruel mirth, "but there's no reason to fall into old habits, wouldn't you agree? How about we play a little game with our rules instead?"

"I can be controlling, yes."

@returnofaion

//Lol we know.

Szayel strains against the bond that's been tied.

"Well, I don't exactly find that a negative trait," he says. "Maybe it means that I have something broken within me...but well...it would just be one more thing to add to the pile."

But he's calm, obedient.

"Maybe I like to be controlled. Maybe it's easier than failing when I'm left to my own judgements."

He gazes into playful but cold eyes.

"Tell me. This time that you're here, as long as you are staying...what rules would you have me follow?"

He needs this. He's needed it for a very long time, but he knows better than to just seek it out. Most people aren't absolute enough to fulfill his dangerously masochistic core. This is the real deal.

"I'd be lying if I said that I didn't miss the structure."

#◜◷◞ [published pasts]: threads #tsp activity check #[[ooc: sorry this took a moment! Tsuki saw the word “rules” and was immediately unsatisfied and unimpressed with anything straightforward. #and then I got busy. #lewdestconcubine

[returnofaion]

[Post] || @reservedhealer

From the Vulnerable Sentence Starters meme | accepting

Having handled the most serious case of the day, Isane was tired. Consequently, she decided she needed some rest and announced that her sister was in charge of the rest of the cases, which were little more than the usual scrapes and injuries on officers who had been in unfortunate personal accidents or on patrol, missions and reconnaissance.

Perhaps she would finally get some peace to work on the month's allocated budget given to each Division as part of the reconstruction effort. She had just entered her quarters with plans for the expansion of the hospital wing when she was accosted by a voice declaring that something wasn’t as bad as it looked and requesting assistance.

Instinctively, she sucked in a sharp breath of surprise, tightened the hold over the handle of her medical chest and retreated backwards until she felt her back against the display cupboards with her floral arrangement. There were foxgloves rather than hemlock flowers in the display, and she decided she would have to make do with them if push came to shove and she needed to buy time before drawing her blade. For the moment, she wondered if she had forgotten to lock the sliding doors to her engawa. That was unlikely when she had locked the doors to her quarters.

She scrutinised the young man and felt no malevolent intent. His reiatsu was unusual. It appeared to be a combination of certain beings she had come across, yet different at the same time. She had recalled reading about such anomalous reiatsu in past reports when she and her late captain had to patch up certain parties, but getting a sense of it for herself in the flesh was different. She would theorise on the hows and whys of that later. If he was lurking about in Soul Society, chances were he was one of the dead ones. She hummed and pursed her lips in disapproval at whoever it was that wouldn’t leave the young fellow alone. Surely, even souls needed peace. If a live and let live principle could be adopted with some of the arrancars, why can’t it be applied to souls as long as they minded their own business? She sighed at the thought and critically assessed his physical condition.

The more pressing matter was what she ought to do with his wounds. If he was still standing, even with his hunched posture, that could mean he was most likely not bleeding from any large veins or arteries. If he was sufficiently lucid to ask for help, it meant there was no altered mental status. That was a very good sign in a patient but could possibly be a very bad sign for her. Yet, if he had meant her harm, he would have done so from the outset as he had caught her off guard, she told herself. Still remaining where she was, she considered her options. It had not escaped her notice that he had known where to go for medical aid. Here was someone au fait with the Gotei, which was unsurprising for someone who had had dealings with Shinigami. But possession of knowledge on the exact duties of each Division and the whereabouts of her quarters within the Fourth was something else altogether. He was either very well-informed, cunning or perceptive.

Outrage at this invasion of her private space would have been a natural reaction, though it was not her nature to scream and faint like the annoying secondary character in the novel she was presently reading in her downtime at night. Any such feeling was shelved at his profuse bleeding and the clear plea for help. Isane did not like to see unnecessary suffering as a rule and since the young man was losing more blood than was good for anyone, she would have to do something. A dead body had its uses, of course, but she did not want to explain why there was a carcase in her quarters if it came down to it. She liked mysteries to unfold in novels, not in her life. That settled things, she sighed to herself, shuffling sideways with her medical chest until she was at the low table in the centre of the living room. She would have to treat him and hopefully direct him home - wherever that was.

Popping open the chest and kneeling at zabuton of one of the seats, she gestured for him to sit on the table. "You don't have to tell me the who, how and where that resulted in your... condition. No one has to know you’re here," she began not unkindly as she made her cursory diagnosis. There was evidence of more than one traumatic wound - a clear sign he had been involved in a skirmish and had elected to make a tactical retreat. It was likely an unpleasant encounter. No unilateral weakness that she could see and no indication that he was feeling nauseous, which ruled out intracranial injuries. So far so good, she decided, giving her patient an encouraging smile as she performed diagnostic Kaido to determine how badly he had been knocked about. "Where exactly are you hurt? Depending on the wounds and their extent, I may have to use a combination of treatments that may sting a little. I'll do all I can to make sure you're all right as I think any follow-up is out of the question, given your penchant for slipping in and out unnoticed."

Waiting on the healer and trying to ignore his injuries gives Tsukishima plenty of time to ruminate on how he ended up hiding and injured among enemies. The knowledge he had gleaned from Byakuya’s memories - full of extensive studies and training - guides him into and through the Seireitei towards potential aid. The reconstruction and massive damage leaves many holes in the security, but it also leaves many frustrating and unpredictable changes to work around while injured. 

It’s a painstaking journey, requiring stealth and focus, and it takes all the energy he has to avoid detection. But the Rukongai has very few accomplished healers, and they would no doubt have them monitored. If memory serves, it’s no guarantee that the SRDI isn’t also monitoring the 4th Division, but the odds of his pursuers meeting resistance are higher among shinigami. And in the heat of escape, Tsukishima places his bet for survival with Isane Kotestu. 

Breaking in is almost trivial once he actually arrives, Book of the End cuts cleanly through the lock. But that last bit of Fullbring drains his final reserves of stamina. Once inside, he slumps against the wall, breath heavier than he cares for. Unsteady fingers press over the deepest laceration in his sword arm; it is that damage that had driven him to flee. In his list of priorities, surviving to be free to help Kugo lists far above pride. Breathing and suppressing his reiatsu steal his attention for the long minutes while he waits.

When the source of potential aid arrives, he does his best not to cause alarm, but Tsukishima acknowledges to himself that it’s a lost cause. So as he waits for Captain Isane to complete her risk assessment, he is patient, observing her in turn for any signs of hostility. He’s exhausted, and he hopes it won’t come to more running. But every sigh and sign of displeasure winds the tension tighter. He tries not to show the rush of relief he feels at her eventual acceptance. 

Instead, he focuses on forcing his heavy body to move slowly over to the table as directed. The pain is manageable; it’s the exhaustion of over-extending himself with Fullbring that has him sagging without grace onto the surface. He musters up the energy to return the smile. “I appreciate your willingness to help discreetly, Captain Isane” he sighs, finally loosening his grip on his shoulder. “However, I believe it would be in both our best interests if you’re forewarned.”

“Do what you must. You’ll find I’m a tolerant patient,” he consents easily, “Most of the injuries are to my back and right shoulder.” Kugo had been a horrible nurse, and the diagnostic Kaido is already a pleasant improvement from past treatments. He hesitates a moment, eyeing the Captain warily. He’s already here, and there’s not much he can do if she decides to turn him over at this point. Taking a deep breath, he lets his eyes close and continues tiredly. “You may want to check for poisons or… well, I should say that Mayuri Kurotsuchi was involved. I haven’t noticed any unusual symptoms, but I’m aware of his reputation.”

#◜◷◞ [PUBLISHED PASTS]: threads #tsp activity check #reservedhealer #[[I moved it over for length #And I figured Mayuri as the antagonist had some fun implications

[returnofaion]

Tsukishima senses the familiar reiatsu, acknowledging and dismissing it in favor of the book he was reading. But the deep voice has him glancing up. His usual mockery of a polite smile stays in place a beat too long before he alters his expression to one of puzzled concern at Chad’s appearance.

“I had planned to stay out and read while there’s daylight,” Tsukishima answers calmly, shutting the pages around his bookmark carefully. “But if I may, you look...well, you look like you could use a hand.” And for once, it’s not my fault. 

“I didn’t sense a fight nearby,” he says, moving from his comfortable perch to stand by Chad’s side. “Why don’t you tell me what happened while we walk?”

⛈ Find my muse after some kind of trauma

Chad had feel a deep pain in his leg and side as his sides as he walks. He’s inclined to ignore it and to push on, even if it is causing him to limp. He’ll be fine he always is. Besides he’ll soon reach his destination.

But the truly terrifying thing is for the life of him Chad can’t remember what had happened or why he is heading to the Xcution building instead of his home or where he was before.

He doesn’t see any signs of bleeding, which lead him to believe the simplest answer that he tripped or walking into something. It wouldn’t be the first time and it explains everything. It must have been on his way home from school. Where else would he have been this time of day?

Still the lack of memories bother him, not that he will admit that. As he keeps walking he spots a tall familiar figure. Tsukishima. In all honestly it’s a relief to see a familiar face, so Chad slows to greet him. “Tsukishima-San were you on your way back?”

#◜◷◞ [PUBLISHED PASTS]: threads #tsp activity check #tigretranquilo #[[ooc: This works for me! I assume that since Chad isn't treating Tsuki like an enemy but is going to Xcution we're doing an AU #We can either do something where xcution's plot never kicks off or something where Tsukishima lives and is continuing on with Jackie/Yukio #And I'm working under the assumption Tsukishima isn't at fault in this thread. And Chad has a concussion from being hit by a car or similar?

[returnofaion]

Tsukishima knows this particular shinigami, the memories of Chad and Orihime providing plenty of information on one Rukia Kuchiki. Though the information is incomplete. But he’s not trying to stir up trouble for Kugo at the moment. The distrust is amusing, however. He hadn’t had any interactions with Rukia, so the others must have been telling tales. ‘Perhaps Byakuya is getting better at bonding...but it’s more likely Ichigo.’

His posture is relaxed and open, the calm and warm smile a counterpoint to the cold glare. “You were already over there, huh?” His head tilts slightly, tone staying even and conversational despite the urge to be mocking. “I can’t fathom how you missed the Shiba compound, then. They aren’t exactly subtle in their architectural choices.”  

Tsukishima turns in the direction they needed to go, considering Rukia’s question. If Rukia finds the Shiba, then she’s liable to discover they’ve found shelter with them. But that does bring up a concern of their own, and he looks back over his shoulder.

“If we’re being suspicious of each other, perhaps a better question is what you, a shinigami of the Gotei, want with the Shiba, hm?” 

“just trust me.” (I believe you posted something about Fullbringers? (: )

Hearing the word trust out of someone she most definitely does not bugs her, the contrast feeling like a mosquito biting her ear. She can’t help but glare with her arms crossed, as if staring into his eyes would give her some insight into his motivations. If it had been a stranger giving her directions to the ever-moving, ever-changing, Shiba household she would be far more obliged to listen. He’s pointing in one direction, but her feet are behesting her to go the exact opposite direction, maybe just so they no longer need to deal with the mistrust and stop the sensation of feeling like she’s stepping on lit coals. But her heart isn’t one to back down or retreat away from such situations just because there’s past history. “No way." Rukia speaks coldly without thinking, though she covers her tracks with a small correction, not trying to downright admit her wariness in the other. “I’m pretty sure I was just over there and I didn’t see a thing.”

One other thoughts crosses her mind at that point and she’s quick to speak it. “How do you know where the Shiba household is in the first place?” She’s doesn’t quite have a lot pieces to hold close to her chest, but she makes due trying to size him up, lifting her head, craning her head to peer up at him properly. Rukia’s eyes dart for just a moment to the setting sun in the back; clearly wearing of losing the full day on this matter and night being no adversary for her to take patience in this situation. 

#◜◷◞ [PUBLISHED PASTS]: threads #deathblizzard #tsp activity check #[[oooo I see that skull in your icon I love it]]