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@destruczion
❝ i will encircle you and conquer you. i will be more powerful than your boats and your swords and your bloodlust. i am the weapon that SHIELDS the innocent. i am the last thing you will ever see. i will be inevitable.
❝ i am the BLACK SUN, the vanguard of your DESTRUCTION. ❞
est. 7.2012. rebooted 1.2022. para / novella-preferred | canon div. | semi-selective kurosaki ichigo from bleach. brought to life by vincent. ( rules )
KUROSAKI.
“–yeah, heard that before.” His voice comes out as more of a whisper, but still holds the irritation. It was odd to have someone who used to fight against him relaxing on his couch, but he wasn’t going to question it because it was the best out of a bad situation. Ichigo can’t help the scoff that’s pulled from his throat when Grimmjow retorts with what, at the moment, is an empty threat. But he has no doubt that Grimmjow has gotten stronger as Ichigo had, so he didn’t doubt that the man in front of him could easily hold a fight against him again.
But he doesn’t respond - and instead he moves across the room to the fridge, pulls out the bottle of juice Yuzu usually goes for, and puts a small amount in a glass even though there was no response to the offer of a drink. He puts the juice back into the fridge and comes over with the glass, setting it on the table in front of the couch that Grimmjow was laying on. “Here.” If he didn’t like it, then it would at least be entertaining to see the reaction, but if Grimmjow was going to spend time here, then he’d need to at least figure out what he did and didn’t like.
“It’s not that I thought you were dead, it was just we hadn’t seen you for so long that a few of us started to wonder.” He says, but Ichigo leaves it unsaid that he was quite glad that he was alive. As an ally, he was incredibly helpful and powerful, and as a friend Ichigo couldn’t say much about that, but he was sure that loyalty was a massive part of him. Ichigo does wonder how it came to this, how it came to Grimmjow relaxing at his place, but his thoughts are cut off when he notices the look he’s giving to the thing in his hands.
“You want me to show you what you can do on that?”
GLANCING BACK AT KUROSAKI AND THE CUP OF JUICE LEFT ON THE COFFEE TABLE, he narrowed his eyes as if the conduct was completely foreign. like no one had shown him even the most basic of common courtesies in his life. subliminal strain worked the contours of grimmjow’s face, his expression shifting at the speed of thought. kurosaki retrieved a drink even after he dismissed the polite gesture, and now, the shinigami was offering to teach him how to use a denreishinki?
the screen dimmed in time with the crease that appeared between thin brows and he snorted, shaking his head. ❝no.❞ his tone was too brusque, unmistakably defensive and yet, inside a second, grimmjow’s vehemence faltered, then reverted to a critical study of him. ❝not ‘til i try first.❞ which wouldn’t be for much longer if grimmjow’s disgruntled scowl had anything to announce. at the back of his mind, resolve had already begun to shape up. too bad his pride wouldn’t allow for kurosaki to show him shit after declining the offer not even ten seconds ago.
❝had to recover,❞ grimmjow grunted out, at last returning to their earlier topic, but a tautness had crept into his voice and revealed that the question didn’t come easy to him. ❝that’s why. that bastard of a quincy had prepared a trap for if his heart ever stopped. got our asses doused with some kinda toxin—potent shit, the kind that takes the fight right from you.❞
he couldn’t remember much beyond that point, just the vaguest recollection of nelliel in her resurrección, her bitchy complaints about feeling like an underappreciated escort, and her face glowering down at him before she had hauled his ass up over her back. everything else he’d picked up days after regaining consciousness. the road to recovery had been an uphill battle that stretched into weeks, urahara unable to determine the cause behind grimmjow’s fluctuating reiryoku, the way it would drop to dangerously low levels for a hollow. nel had breathed in the crap too, but he’d been exposed to the toxin for longer, and for an entire month, his chances of regression remained at an all-time high.
❝it’d stayed in my system, wrecked my reiryoku levels for a while.❞ probably should’ve died then, snapped through his head, and his features pinched on that derailed thought. the former espada straightened up slowly as memory began to prickle his skin, lighting up every nerve in his body until unease showed in the fixed set of his shoulders. hm. he didn’t like that.
❝here.❞ grimmjow thrust the phone to kurosaki with a frown. ❝i hate that stupid security pin. show me where to remove it.❞
@sacrifizion
NELLIEL.
Nel gave a silent sigh of relief when Grimmjow finally acquiesced. She had planned on doing it regardless of his answer, but having him with her would make the experience easier. At least in some ways. The glint in Urahara’s eye took on an almost malicious tone as he ordered the gigai brought out.
They were odd to behold. She had seen the gigai Rukia used, but that had already been formed to her, and Ichigo didn’t use one, so this was her first time seeing a blank gigai. It looked humanoid in shape, but as if it were lacking skin. The thick chords of musculature were visible in various places and the whole thing was the color of clay. The last odd detail, almost unsettling in a way, was the lack of a face.
Urahara’s voice held a rare serious tone, his fan folded at his side. “Be prepared you two. This is no doubt going to hurt, and not just a physical pain. It is difficult to explain, since something like this has never been done before, but it will not be easy. You must try to hold on to yourself through the process.”
Nel nodded her head in understanding and looked over to Grimmjow. She wasn’t looking for assurance and no doubt he would give none. But seeing him there beside her was enough. Urahara had laid the gigai down on the ground on small mats. She stepped to its feet, her back to it. With one last breath, she closed her eyes and fell backwards into the form that awaited her.
The pain was truly intense. But it wasn’t just physical pain, though there was plenty of it. She felt herself begin to spasm as a solidity she was unfamiliar with took hold of her. As a spirit, there had always been a disconnection to the world around her, even in Hueco Mundo. Now, she felt herself become
ANCHORED
IMPRISONED
CONTAINED
Then there was the disconnection. The gigai also seem to limit their power. She felt it almost cut away from her, like a limb being sawed through by a jagged blade. It wasn’t until then that she screamed. It was there, just out of reach; a pedestal that seemed to rise ever higher whenever she sought to touch it. It was similar to when her mask had been cracked by Nnoitra, but the power wasn’t leaking away. It was just cut off.
She didn’t know how long the process took. It seemed to go on forever. The shock of each nerve flaring to life across an endless expanse of skin, the feeling of air in her lungs, and the numberless sensations of existence. She could feel as the gigai changed form to match hers, sprouted hair that grew like grass across the ground. And then it was done. She lay there, sweat dripping from skin alien and familiar to her. The light seemed brighter, causing her to wince away from it.
“Congratulations, Odelschwanck-chan. You did it.”
Her breath was heavy. Her chest seemed tight, almost constricted as her lungs expanded and contracted for the first time. She paused, gathering herself. Then she turned to face Grimmjow.
"Are you alright?“
SHOCK HELD HIS TONGUE OVER LONG SECONDS, nelliel’s weary features fading fast as she switched between blinking rapidly and squinting at the two figures sprawled on the ground. hovering above the blond scientist with both of his hands fisting green fabric, grimmjow’s face pinched into a deep frown before a HORRIBLE noise tore from his throat. ❝why the fuck are you asking me that? you’re the one who started screaming like a goddamned banshee! the gigai, i thought he’d—since he—❞ the visible confusion and concern that crept into nelliel’s expression smothered his lingering outrage until there was nothing left to feel but the acerbic zip of embarrassment.
he had—he had what? thought for one sickeningly long minute that urahara had ultimately BETRAYED them? had he thought that this—this effort to bring together their forces and construct a friendship unseen by history was all one clever trick orchestrated by the gotei 13 to seize the remaining espada? an elaborate scheme to incarcerate them in gigais they could never escape? grimmjow’s mind had come across a myriad of possibilities long before nelliel had begun to wail, and each possibility ignited rage and set fire to harribel’s persistent reminders that this was the beginning of a new era of peace.
FUCK the new era if it meant sacrificing one of their own.
grimmjow found himself snarling down at the shinigami still pinned beneath his weight, wondering if he should rip out his throat for all the trouble he caused. urahara moved first, however; one palm pressed against the former espada’s pectoral and grimmjow squared his shoulders, a visceral response at the resistance from PREY. ❝excuse me, grimmjow-kun, but it appears nel-chan is fully exposed! what kind of gentleman would i be if i allowed her to remain standing in my den while in the nude?❞ grimmjow couldn’t help the offended noise that escaped him at the indignity of his wrath being written off so quickly, but shit, urahara was right. if anybody walked in on them at this exact moment, there was no explanation that would satisfy.
albeit done with great reluctance, grimmjow removed himself from atop urahara, the last dredges of his fury simmering down to tolerable levels. as the shinigami bounced away to retrieve a spare set of clothing, grimmjow crossed his arms and glowered at the exit. was this just a game to him? sure as hell didn’t feel like a game. at least, not a game grimmjow wouldn’t have already ended in cold blood. those screams… it was unlike anything he had heard before. nelliel was all lethal elegance and calculating silence, only ever sparing few words to opponents she encountered on the battlefield. grimmjow had seen her sustain blows that would normally wrench a howl from any formidable warrior, and yet nelliel had displayed no more than a deep but fleeting grimace and inaudible grunts.
when urahara uttered the answer to his question in that quiet, measured voice, nelliel was still a writhing mess on the floor. ❛forgive me, but there is no guarantee my experimental gigai will function properly.❜ as if grimmjow wouldn’t have lunged for his jugular. as if he wouldn’t have disemboweled the piece of shit for his reckless technology. for killing one of his own.
vivid blue eyes slid back to nelliel who—aGH, FUCK. cursing aloud, grimmjow snatched his gaze before sending his scowl up toward the ceiling. ❝shit, nelliel, turn the fuck around or somethin’!❞
KUROSAKI.
“Fine, fine, but let me at least help you the best I can.” Ichigo wouldn’t take no for an answer. He rushed over to a cabinet and brought out a medical kit.
“This may sting.” He warned, as he dumped some rubbing alcohol onto a gauze pad and wiped at the other’s wounds. The boy had a serious aura about him, like when he was fighting. Ichigo was very serious about treating Grimmjow.
GRIMMJOW JERKED UP FROM THE CUSHION, every inch of his body stiffening at the abrupt waves of agony the antiseptic brought down on him, drenching open and bloodied wounds until his left arm began to visibly quiver. ❝oi, watch it!❞ he snapped, instinct guiding anger to the fore, then flinched hard when another thin cloth pressed up against his side.
flashing sharp teeth in warning, the injured arrancar attempted to wiggle away from kurosaki’s touch, his mind a mess while in the presence of a shinigami he’d only ever known as his enemy, now treating his wounds. or well, he was trying to. despite prevalent belief, grimmjow knew when to swallow his pride and accept another’s aid, but this fucking hurt and kurosaki didn’t seem like wanting to wait in between dabbing and mopping blood...
❝‘think there might’ve been acid on the fucker’s weapon.❞ noting his hierro had all but corroded from flesh, deft fingers rose to prod discolored skin around the pectoral. shit. no wonder this hurt like hell. with a deep scowl, grimmjow shucked off his torn jacket to inspect the full extent of the damage.
KUROSAKI.
@destruczion | starter call
“–So exactly how did you survive, again?”
He wasn’t sure he’d ever get an answer to that, but it was worth a try after all. Ichigo hadn’t seen him since the brief meeting they had before they all went off their own ways to fight against the Quincies, but when he’d failed to see him again after, Ichigo had briefly assumed the worst. Grimmjow wasn’t weak, though, shown by the fact that he was here after all that time. Part of Ichigo was glad that he hadn’t died, another part wasn’t quite enjoying the fact that he had somehow made himself comfortable on his own couch. Ichigo was doing a decent job of not showing it. Moreover, the relief that Grimmjow was still here at all was pushing the annoyance away.
“You look like you’re well. Though I suppose you’ve had a while to recover.” Pointedly, he sets himself down across from Grimmjow. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But it’s impressive how you survived. None of us could find you, as far as I’m aware.”
It was probably seeming too much like an interrogation, so he took a moment before backpedalling. “Do you want something to drink?”
❝YOU TALK TOO MUCH, SHINIGAMI.❞ subdued, colorless tones coated an arrogance that was a hollow’s nature, but each word struck a spark within the arrancar’s mind, conflicting, ungathered impulses of pride and startled annoyance. impressive that he had survived?
grimmjow felt his upper lip twitch and kick up as he shifted on the couch, propping his back against the armrest so kurosaki was in full view. arctic blue eyes regarded the young man with visible disdain. there were better ways to compliment the tenacity of a true warrior. ❝did you really think i was dead again?❞ the pursuing silence answered enough.
❝as if i’d die before killing you.❞
it struck grimmjow in that instant, kurosaki’s reiatsu, and he could feel the unhesitating reaction next, a defensive response that fell against him with vigorous, mounting pressure. power pulsed between them, bringing forth a memory that stood out sharp and bright, with sensations still so goddamn familiar. hn. unable to curb the impulse, his generous mouth pulled into a feral grin, excitement stirring every nerve to higher sensitivity and hunger. so the kid had gotten even stronger since he last saw him. good.
but he wasn’t here for that. not for today, anyway, so he turned back to a sleek slab of glass he cradled in both of his hands, its screen flickering on to reveal the local time. grimmjow scowled. he’d yet to figure out how to use the damned thing. ❝dunno why you didn’t ask. nel’s been at urahara’s. could’ve asked her.❞ there for all of the time it took to gather donated resources before bolting back to las noches’ reconstruction site—but that was beside the point.
Decipher me, my love, or I will be forced to destroy you.
Clarice Lispector, from The Book of Delights; “The Beginning of Spring,” (via writemeanna)
KUROSAKI.
It had been a guess, really, but he had heard the man’s heavy panting at the door. Ichigo turned around, expression turning into one of surprise. Whatever had put Grimmjow in this state must’ve been strong, or lucky. “Are you okay? I can get Hat n Clogs, or maybe Orihime?” He offered, quickly walking towards the other.
“I know you still want to fight, but it’s not a good idea right now. You’re seriously injured. Let me help.” Ichigo replied, staring Grimmjow down in a way that let him know that he wouldn’t take no for an answer.
GRIMMJOW STIFLED A DEEP GROAN AS PAIN RUSHED HIM WITH CRUSHING INTENSITY, and he slumped hard against the doorway again, the blood-soaked fabric of his jacket slipping fast against polished wood. pantera hung belted at his waist, silent, despite kurosaki’s presence—and for the very first time, the instinctive demand to draw his zanpakutō never came, even as he staggered forward into urahara’s den. he needed to sit the fuck down.
❝don’t,❞ grimmjow grunted, then dropped on a cushion closest to him. ❝came here ‘cause i don’t sense shady bastard, not cause i need his fuckin’ help. need to rest. won’t be long.❞ grimmjow curled up quickly, his features drawn taut and furious, like he couldn’t help but to process his pain into anger.
TERCERO.
Noelle took a moment before answering, running her hand along the door frame and taking in the scene. She wondered why he was so frustrated. Was it he knew she was right? Or was it he didn’t believe it was possible to escape from under Aizen’s thumb? She was glad he wasn’t looking at her. The look of pity and sadness on her face would only upset him more.
“It doesn’t matter what he said to me, Jack. He didn’t promise me anything. He only told me what I already knew in my heart.“
You don’t have to be reserved to this life, Starrk’s words echoed in her mind.
Noelle wandered to the nearby couch and sat atop the back of it rather than the actual cushion, facing away from him. She told him nothing but the truth. And truthfully, she did want to leave. She’d wanted to leave from the moment she had first stepped foot into Aizen’s compound. But it was an impossible dream to her, something unreachable. So she buried it, let it gather dust in the corners of her mind, a decaying thing that drew only heartache when it surfaced. She couldn’t have survived if she hadn’t. Such an elusive dream would only serve to·drag her down. She would have drowned in that ocean of muck and bile.
It wouldn’t be long before they did, anyway. She knew well enough about the vats. She wasn’t stupid. There were only so many ways to dispose of evidence and Aizen was nothing if not·thorough. How long would it be before they ended up as just another pair of missing person cases? She almost laughed at that. As if anyone would miss them, anyway. They had no one, nobody except each other. That was another point in their favor at least. With no one to worry about, no *leverage,* there wasn’t a lot that anyone could use against them.
“There have been others. Grimmjow. I know that. But you are forgetting the one key difference separating us from them. There is one thing above all else that tells me we could survive, that we could make it where others couldn’t.”
She turned to stare directly at Jack, trying to get him to look her in the eyes. The room was dark, lit only by the light streaming in from the window, so she could hardly see his face. The shadows hiding his face didn’t stop her gaze, now filled with a determination forged of steel.
“They weren’t us.”
HE COULD’VE BEEN MORE TACTFUL ABOUT IT ALL. could’ve pushed for a private meeting alone, but there hadn’t been enough time for jack to compose even a text message, much less make any calls before the man was already in the country, having already cleared customs in record speed and directly in transit for his next scheduled flight. jack knew he was only passing through the capital, his priorities apparently dead set on his business in japan, but starkk had claimed that if he emphasized their situation and dropped aizen’s name in the conversation, the man would listen.
jack did not, however, expect urahara kisuke, proprietor of urahara shōten, a candy shop located in the small town of karakura, to say his real name out loud. like they were buddies. like jack had ever seen him before in his life. like they were about to go get a cup of coffee and eat a fuckin’ biscuit together. he also did not expect urahara to pull out a gun in the public restroom of madrid-barajas’s airport either, let alone expect the scruffy-looking blond to pluck out his wallet and flash his credentials.
URAHARA KISUKE: INTERPOL.
he cooperated with the agent. dropping the hand that hovered above the holster of his very illegal firearm, jack raised both arms above his head and closed his eyes, his nostrils flaring in silent rage.
ahh. fuckin’ great.
❝grimmjow jaegerjaquez...❞ the voice said with such conspicuous awe that jack knew instantly that the reverence was for show. nobody ever addressed him like that unless they were begging for their lives or flying high off their ass. seated at the table across from the agent, jack grunted in response and made a show of getting comfortable. his ass felt numb and his wrists were sore where metal cuffs dug into thin skin. he shook them as if to make a point, rattling the chain hard against metal legs bolted into the floor, but his efforts went ignored. they were in a private room now, still at the airport, urahara having left him with no choice but to relinquish his gun and to keep his head down while they vacated the public restroom.
❝not my name. quit callin’ me that.❞
the blond was in a dark gray suit absent of a tie, and he’d undone a few of the top buttons. jack got the impression this man didn’t care for formality, though he’d introduced himself as interpol’s lead investigator on aizen sōsuke. ❝very well then, jack. or should i say aizen’s sexta espada?❞ jack held his tongue and just stared past urahara’s shoulder. ❝i would first like to say that it’s truly an honor to finally meet you. i hear you’re a very important man around these parts of spain.❞ sure, he liked his ego stroked much like any other guy, but not by shady bastards of this caliber. fuckin’—a candy shop owner of all aliases? did he think this was a goddamn joke? if any of aizen’s little shits caught wind of this, even saw a glimpse of blue hair getting handled by authorities—and shit, aizen’s reach had spread faster than he’d prepared for this year—then he was FUCKED.
❝i didn’t think it’d be so easy to find you and your sister.❞ jack’s head snapped up at the mention of nel, his blue eyes opened wide, clearly caught off guard. ❝one can’t help but to wonder what the authorities have been doing for all this time...❞
baring his teeth, jack began struggling wildly against his restraints, snarling and kicking the table. ❝keep her out of this!❞
❝but she’s already here!❞ urahara’s cheerful cry wrenched his stomach and stopped his full-body lunge. jack watched in horror as the man stood to open the only door. ❝please bring in miss odelschwanck.❞
KUROSAKI.
“Don’t ask to fight me, cause I’m not going to.”
EITHER KUROSAKI HAD A KEEN SENSE OF SMELL, or he’d finally learned how to sense and identify reiatsu signatures. however, since the latter seemed totally out of the question just by default, grimmjow considered the possibility of carrot-top having grown a second pair of eyes at the back of his head. except, that didn’t explain… ❝turn around, asshole,❞ grimmjow husked, leaning heavily against the entrance of urahara shōten. one arm hung limp and bloodied at his side, his right hand tucked up underneath his left arm, holding firm and applying pressure where red flowed freely.
❝does it—❞ he paused on a hitched breath, then turned and spat out the abrupt deluge of blood that flooded his mouth. fuck, that hurt. wiping his chin—he had manners, after all, and turning up so unexpectedly, it was the least he could do—grimmjow noted the cold setting into his shoulder, weighing him down. ❝does it look like i wanna kick your ass today?❞ one corner of his mouth twitched up. ❝don’t bother—the answer’s yes.❞
KUROSAKI.
A hard glance — a glance that screamed to challenge but also the kind of stare that Ichigo would have with just about anyone stubborn enough to not listen. Within that stare was a reflection of his old man — those same downturned eyes shining. Scowl was soon replaced with a slight smirk before the man got up from his seat and sauntered out for a few minutes. If he wasn’t hungry then he had to be thirsty, right ? A human could last weeks without food, but without something to drink they wouldn’t last for a few days. Sure, Urahara’s gigais weren’t perfect, but they helped…kind of. Kon was a HUGE mistake.
If anyone knew how to go without food for a while, it was Ichigo. He had fallen into a depression that he lost sight of himself. The loss of his powers back then had been a big hit to his pride — to his self. A self that wanted to protect those he cared about. It had been the life he always wanted, always asked for. For it to slap him in the face in that manner had shaken him. He had lost the person and people he cared about most. It was of no one’s concern now that it had passed, but it certainly wasn’t easily talked about yet. Not even with Grimmjow, yet.
Coming back into the room with a bottle of water and a few energy drinks, he sat back down. ❛ How long has it been since you last drank anything ? Here. Er – don’t mind the food then..❜ Brown colored eyes scanned the Espada over, looking for any injuries. Did he have any ? Could that be a problem also ? A bead of sweat formed along his brow — he wasn’t a doctor like his dad or Ryuken, but he did know when someone wasn’t feeling so hot.
GLACIAL BLUE EYES WATCHED KUROSAKI ATTENTIVELY, AS THOUGH THE ARRANCAR COULD MEASURE THE BOY’S PATIENCE BY SIGHT ALONE. while the lack of open hostility inadvertently helped to curb his defensive instinct, that didn’t mean grimmjow felt close to secure in kurosaki’s presence. he wasn’t anyone’s responsibility… grimmjow didn’t have to think for long before the answer came to him. ❝an hour,❞ he replied while grabbing for the bottled water first, his tongue only slightly dry despite suffering for over an hour’s time in urahara’s empty den. he’d been sweating too, albeit lightly, but with this body’s unexpected shortcomings, he doubted dehydration hadn’t already set in.
❝i’ve been drinking the same amount. hollows don’t need water ‘til they hit adjuchas class, and anything beyond that requires at least a liter a day to survive.❞ his evolution had returned to him a few bodily functions, though none of which he ever used, barring one. ❝urahara said to cut back on liquids when i’d needed to piss every goddamn hour.❞ grimmjow frowned, twisting off the cap. ❝but i haven’t stopped hydrating.❞ as if to demonstrate and further justify his experience, he quaffed down the entire bottle’s contents in record speed. like a man starving for more than just liquids. but the former espada made no move to inspect the meal on the table, even as the roiling aches lapsed back, unfolding yet again. … so, maybe drinking cold water wasn’t the best idea. the foreign sensation of cold sloshing about in his gut forced an especially deep grimace as he dropped the bottle and grabbed the hem of his shirt, yanking it up.
❝no visible signs of dehydration, but this skin elasticity’s new. huh. hierro doesn’t have that.❞ grimmjow then pressed his palm over the expanse of warm skin, against hard abdominal muscles that did not exist in his soul form. perplexed by the mere sight of his fully intact gut, grimmjow eventually peered up at kurosaki, his eyebrow cocked. ❝you in a gigai too, kurosaki?❞ if he was, then urahara had truly mastered his design. ichigo blended in perfectly unlike shady bastard’s band of maniacs. the thought only fanned at his current frustrations. fuckin’ shinigami and their more “compatible” compositions… ❝you smell human, though.❞
HUMAN.
@destruczion liked for a random starter
❝ Huh. You look pretty good with those clothes and that hairstyle. ❞ It’s very much something she’d assume Grimmjow would never pick. So someone else had to have convinced him to wear those clothes. Who knew he could look so good!
❝ Let me guess. Kurosaki bought them for you? ❞
IRRITATION SQUARING BROAD SHOULDERS, grimmjow jerked his chin up, flicking away messy blue locks of hair from his eyes. even if it was more or less true, she was so damn quick to assume kurosaki helped dress him—did she want a fight? ❝close,❞ came the curt response, and despite the arrancar sliding his gaze away from the girl’s probing eyes, he appeared grudgingly pleased by the compliment. the style didn’t appeal to grimmjow’s usual taste, but he couldn’t complain; he looked different—but good. flashy. grimmjow liked flashy. ❝his little sister picked it out.❞ kurosaki yuzu, fraternal twin of kurosaki karin and the younger sibling of his enemy, named after a fuckin’ lemon. should’ve figured, with a brother like ichigo.
❝don’t you know it’s fuckin’ rude to assume?❞
grimmjow wasn’t sure when it began, but somewhere, at some point, he'd grown pliant in her hands. perhaps harribel’s unrelenting efforts to maintain peace between shinigami and arrancar had truly tempered his bloodlust, or maybe it was because grimmjow couldn’t ignore the fact that yuzu was soft and blind and deaf when he wasn’t manning a gigai. and when she could see him, she would look at him with such wonder and unconditional acceptance that it always sent his temper running in blind circles. yuzu still cared for him despite kurosaki’s sullen glares at their interaction. fuck that carrot-top, his sister was just a pure soul, caring for everything under the sun.
so, when yuzu had questioned why he never wore anything aside from his jacket and jumpsuit, it only made sense grimmjow had given her the plain and simple truth: don’t own nothin’ else, kid. except, owning a single outfit was apparently unacceptable to the girl, and after giving her brother one pathetic, tear-stricken look and the promise that she wouldn't ask for another favor any time soon, kurosaki had paid for three new outfits, none of which he nor grimmjow had any say over. heh. served that shinigami asshole right. it was just too bad that yuzu’s taste leaned towards more … formal attire.
❝what made you think kurosaki would do something like that for his enemy, anyway?❞
@gutshred asked:
“ hey check man check this stuff out , found it in the world of the living. ” proceeds to gorilla glue grimmjow’s jacket closed
❝OI, WHAT'RE YOU—❞ grimmjow paused in stunned disbelief, rooted in place by the sensation of material abruptly pulling on his shoulders, shrinking as the glue quickly dried and solidified into uneven clumps that stuck to skin and fabric alike. bringing a hand up to his front, he gathered a section of the damp fabric into his fist and sneered. glacial blue eyes snapped up.
❝you’ve got two seconds to tell me why i shouldn’t just gut you now, shinigami.❞ to hell with harribel’s stupid fuckin’ peace treaty—THIS WAS HIS FAVORITE JACKET.
KUROSAKI.
Don’t get Ichigo wrong — he was the type of man to look out for those who he owed a lot to. Grimmjow happened to be one of them. He’d be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t overjoyed back then when the Espada came to help defeat the Quincy. Honestly, ever since their very first battle in Hueco Mundo, Grimmjow had earned his respect and in a way he’d help Ichigo realize the reason on why he fought. It wasn’t for his friends nor for himself, it was to win. The feeling of winning any battle was euphoric —- it sang in Ichigo’s blood as if it were a righteous calling. The man knew what was wrong with Grimmjow but did he really have to spell it out for the guy ?
A sigh before hanging his head in thought, eyes shut. Ichigo stopped eating and pushed the heavy bag of food towards Grimmjow. A usual scowl lining his features, but his eyes had a hardened resolve. Nowadays he knew to look out for himself but he also cared a lot about the people in his life. Even if he never said it, his actions showed —- Grimmjow was someone he understood even if the Espada said otherwise.
Blinking, Ichigo came out of his thoughts. One brow raised in interest at the question before an irritated look flattened his mouth and eyes, ❛ Yeah but ya don’t need a doctor to tell you that your body needs food. Eat. It won’t kill ya to at least try it. ❜ Was the Espada questioning himself now ? Only way to find out. ❛ Man…you’re really whiny when you’re hungry, y’know that ? Jeez. First guy with a gigai that complained about pain. Who are you again ? You sure you’re Grimmjow ? I didn’t take him to be such a pansy. Whoever you are you make Keigo look brave– ❜ Pride. That’s all Grimmjow had and Ichigo knew it — he was questioning him, wanting to make sure he still knew who he was.
GRIMMJOW WAITED FOR ANGER TO STEAL ACROSS HIS SHOULDERS AND DOWN THROUGH HIS ARMS. the shapeless rage that required nothing more than a single spark to catch on anything—and yet, nothing came. instead, the former espada found something altogether distinct. both a terrible demand for answers and the firm intention to refuse whatever answer kurosaki offered. still, the derision had struck its mark precisely and grimmjow’s features settled into hard unrevealing lines, his jaw set tight.
❝call me a pansy again ‘n i’ll RIP OUT your fuckin’ tongue and shove it up urahara’s ass.❞ irritation arrived in a belated surge once the words were ground out, the power and pride in the luminous blue gaze unrelenting. amber eyes were still searching grimmjow’s face though, like the baiting words flung at him weren’t a joke at all and kurosaki really was searching for the ‘real’ grimmjow jaegerjaquez. ... stupid, shitty shinigami.
the pinch of grimmjow’s eyebrows tightened and his attention averted to the food spread out on the table. it didn’t smell appetizing. didn’t even smell like hollow-anything, much less blood or viscera. kurosaki said this feeling was hunger, but since when the fuck had hunger gone hand-in-hand with pain? as a hollow, hunger had always come with despair. not internal pain that wrung his fucking guts and sent his senses crashing headlong each time he tried so much as to stand. but the first guy in a gigai to bitch about this, huh? hell, if hunger was the culprit, then kurosaki should try going without sustenance for two weeks straight, see how well he’d handle the fatigue. the thought almost made grimmjow snort. no, that was stupid as shit thinking. even the half-formed notion of destroying a warrior’s physique over petty games of pride disgusted him, and he wasn’t about to goad for such an inane contest.
❝‘shady bastard had said this meat suit would suppress my hunger. said i’d only need water.❞ and it was true; grimmjow’s voracious appetite to tear into soft flesh or sink his teeth into sinewy muscle hadn’t surfaced since inhabiting this gigai, and his teeth hadn’t ached once for the crunch of bone and cartilage. disinterested even in the passing stench of hollow that migrated through karakura, there was no way urahara had lied. so, what was it? should he have been eating anyway, despite his glaring lack of appetite?
me, reading @soulstared‘s reply: *takes off glasses* bo i
KUROSAKI.
@destruczion | | | cont’d from post.
❛ ….that so ?❜ He muttered as he then rummaged through the brown paper bag. Taking out a handfull of scrumptious fresh-looking fries, Ichigo shoved them into his mouth. Brown eyes held a sparkle of gluttonous greed. Yeah, this was the best fast food around. He never ate out at a lot of places but when he did, he went all out. Ichigo knew Grimmjow hated for others to show him sympathy so he did what he does best to let him know he cared. Be an asshole about the situation. The man taught Rukia how to be human and he could teach Grimmjow too. Speaking with a mouthful of fries, he blinked, ❛ You sure ? I mean, these are REALLY amazing. Well, guess I’ll just have to eat this all by myself. Though I’m not too happy with how much of it I bought. Man…Yuzu’s going to throw a fit if I’m full before dinner…❜
Ichigo sauntered on over, plopping right next to Grimmjow. He set the brown bag that was a heap of food onto the small table before beginning to help himself. Was he going to eat all of this ? No. Would he waste it ? Also no. Ignoring the Espada’s statement he began talking again but more to himself, ❛ Does Jinta eat this ? I could leave some for him and Ururu, but I doubt she’ll eat this stuff — wait, is she even HUMAN ?❜
THE CURIOUS FROWN TUGGING GRIMMJOW’S LIPS TWISTED INTO SOMETHING HORRIBLE WHEN KUROSAKI BEGAN STUFFING HIS FACE LIKE A PIG. absolute disgust registered first, then a pain worse than what he felt earlier came crashing down on him in waves. it seemed the closer kurosaki got, the more it worsened. ❝h-how the fuck should i know?❞ grimmjow rasped as affliction ballooned. he snatched his gaze away to glare at the floor while clutching his mid-section tightly. what the actual fuck? why would urahara design a gigai that perceived pain on a scale greater than that of a fucking arrancar’s? or was this the pain threshold of a shinigami’s? he’d been stabbed through the stomach before and yet it had hurt less than this stupid shit!
just as wild indignation began to smolder into something dangerous, an abrupt realization slammed home. kurosaki was doing it again. caring. looking out for everyone but himself. the usual bullshit. this isn’t pitying, an extremely unhelpful part of his brain added whilst sounding too much like aizen, which did nothing to ease the instinctive compulsion to lash out then distance himself from whatever was aggravating him. it wasn’t pitying—because kurosaki would never see things through grimmjow’s eyes. this was nothing more than a display of goodwill that grimmjow never asked for. the kind of crap friends would do for one another. except, he and kurosaki weren’t friends, and if that damned shinigami had inhaled those fries to prove a fucking point…
a strange silence had blanketed them. grimmjow only noticed once the aches eased up a moment, clarity still working to cleave past the delirium. if kurosaki had said anything more during that time, he hadn’t heard. ❝ain’t … ain’t your dad a doctor?❞ he asked eventually, in a voice that sounded like broken glass. ❝'think there … might be somethin’ wrong with this gigai.❞
the admission carried with it a torn off chunk of his fucking PRIDE but whatever. truth was, something was wrong. this was unlike anything he’d experienced before. he felt weak and weary, and if annoyance alone wasn’t enough to fuel him into flopping over and punching kurosaki in his stupid face for eating so obnoxiously around him, then his concern wasn’t unfounded.
it only took me 35 yrs but grimm finally has a theme ,,, if anything’s broken, please let me know. pages are currently messy and some are incomplete but this is a wip. also, if anyone thinks my color scheme is an eyesore... lmk! ;; i tried adjusting the brightness to my tastes but not everyone’s favorite colors are magenta & cyan.
