GRIMMJOW JEAGERJAQUEZ

Kenny, 𝟤𝟦 | Literate Role-player | MDNI

[lasextaespada]

#LASEXTAESPADA — Literate and canon divergent role-play blog. Blog focuses on GRIMMJOW JEAGERJAQUEZ from BLEACH by Tite Kubo. A study on anger, solitude, and ambition. Portrayed by Kenny, 24.

Message me to interact. You can also like, comment, and hop in my ask.

⠀⠀ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤSTORIES | ♔ | HEADCANONS

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ❝ They're all cowards, every damn one of them. Whatever. I'll just consume them. As they become my flesh and blood, they will see beyond ❞

General things to note about my portrayal: Grimmjow’s rude and crude. He’s aggressive by nature and not one for the gentleness or pity of others. Softening his character, if I ever chose to, is done through plotting and gradual story-telling. If you’re sensitive, I can always scale back his attitude accordingly but this is something you must tell me beforehand.

Mains: None. I don’t necessarily do those unless someone asks.

General things to note:

I match the length of the other person's response. Depending on comfort levels, I may go for more or a little less.

I stick to canon, unless it is agreed to stray from it.

My writing is at times, advanced. Do not feel discouraged by it. If I ever do too much, let me know and I will scale it back.

I can be selective. (Edit: I realized it’s because I’m shy LOL)

I take my time with replies. This is to make sure I give my best effort.

Rules:

Will NOT write with 18-

Remeber IC =/= OOC

Multi-ship.

Ships based on character chemistry.

I have no triggers but tell me yours before we start writing.

If you don't like something about a plot choice or my writing, feel free to openly communicate it with me.

I will close the role-play if I deem it best for both parties.

AU friendly, crossover friendly, & oc-friendly.

I'm not a stickler for rules, so that's all I can think of. Enjoy!

Thank you for checking out my post!

Just for me: icons :)

These are alternate headers for everyone’s viewing pleasure.

[lasextaespada]

OOC: I keep listening to RA. It’s all I have on repeat, except with the occasional break with whatever is queued up on my music app.

Also, it fuels my desire to write angst and get into every nook and cranny of Grimm’s mind. Although, I have art coms and birthday things to do for my mom, so eventually I’ll get around to the other missing replies and to posting more.

Here’s some Ra :)

Maybe one day I’ll get around to sharing some playlists

[healhime]

[ ✿ ] : @lasextaespada ➜ ❤️'d ™

' Wow I didn't think you'd actually come to the beach Grimmjow! I thought bug cats like you didn't like water.'

[lasextaespada]

"Well, ya said I'd get to fight," he scoffed.

That was a baldfaced lie. Truth was, he was invited to have some fun in the sun, and Grimmjow was many things, but one to fall short on a promise wasn't. He just threw in a casual request to fight Ichigo when she rambled about all of the fun they could have in building Sandcastles.

[lasextaespada]

CONTINUATION FROM THE GOAT

Grimmjow couldn’t anymore——couldn’t hold his weight that is. He had pushed his body past his limits, his muscles fatigued and achy, too weak even for something as simple as parting his lips. Against even his own stubborn wants, his weight shifted onto Nelliel. She was strong and steady and he was but a tumble weed, incapable of mirroring her physical stability. Even the stale air was enough to tip him over.

Fortunately, his vulnerability made it so that she could guide him to somewhere grounded, his languid, heavy steps doing little to propel him anywhere. Ahead was a rock for him, on which he nearly collapsed, but he caught himself. Some of his vigor returned with the anchor below his feet doing the most of the heavy lifting. Although, that was more of his own delusion than anything. There was no motivation for anything, even if he desperately convinced himself otherwise.

Exhaustion dripped off his fevered skin, and his eyelids hung. The last thing he wanted to do was argue. More than anything his body, against his wishes, craved the plush comfort of rest. He dropped his blade and forced his hands onto his knees, muscled arms taut with tension. He grunted in displeasure, slowly adjusting to his brusque posture and her words. Eventually, he brought his head up just enough to address her.

“I get by just fine on my own,” he said, although it wasn’t exactly true.

He was accustomed to trekking these sands alone and used to looking around and having no one to rally around him. His pack, so to speak, died by his own impulsivity. Luck or fate had kept him alive and lonely——not that he’d ever admit to such a thing. It was insulting to even think that something other than his strength kept him afloat, and yet, the thought flicked across his mind.

Despite his desires to continue without companionship, Nelliel was here in typical altruist fashion, trying to get him to think of better for himself——as if she truly knew any better. Who’s to say her morals stood in line with what is correct? What if all they did was truncate her power? But he was too much of a beast for someone as tame as she was.

He thought he had a hold of himself, even thinking he was perfectly solid, but he swayed in his spot on the rock. His arms trembled and the desert in his throat had him cursing at himself. Shit, shit, shit! He thought.

Instead of becoming feral, his condition subdued him further. He folded over, his forearms on his knees. Wild blues closed themselves off to the world at his feet.

Becoming submissive to his needs, he half-conciously confessed, “I’m tired.”

He hadn’t passed out, but he might as well have. Grimmjow admitted in two simple words that he, in fact, wanted whatever repose she could afford him. The companionship. Her. Halibel. The palace. Anything would do for now. He didn’t need to keep fighting, at least, not until he recuperated. His goals could sit on hold.

@ramxswords

[ramxswords]

Nelliel continued to watch him with her watchful gaze as the male could barely hold himself upright on the rock. Even sitting down looked like a gargantuan task for the former Sexta Espada in his current fatigued state, which only served to solidify her belief that the male was in desperate need of rest. Yet, Grimmjow would continue contradicting her words and claiming he was alright and good on his own, negating the obvious truth that he was in such a rough state that he could barely even function.

In other circumstances, Nelliel would have crossed her arms at her chest in a stern manner, shooting him a serious look before launching herself into another speech, scolding the other for his recklessness. Just look at yourself! You're fine on your own? Then how come you can barely hold your own weight even when doing the simplest of acts like that of sitting down? You aren't fooling anyone but yourself if you think anyone with two good eyes and of sane mind would believe that you're okay right now! She probably would have told him, her irritation fueled by the worry she held for him, but the female refrained. Nell was upset, but she wanted to help her comrade, not push him away. So instead, the former Tres took a deep breath and bent down to help pick up Pantera from the coarse white sands.

And her choice was the right one, because no sooner as she picked up the zanpakuto, Grimmjow's body had finally decided to give way under the tired weight of its fatigued bones. So Nelliel was quick to catch him before he'd end up hurting himself in the fall. "Grimmjow, just what in the world..." The words came followed by a gasp, her eyes now wide and expression frozen in stark shock upon realizing that the Jaguar had actually fainted. "Grimmjow?! Hey, ya alright? For Heaven's sake... Grimmjow!" The initial worry morphed into panic, as she felt the male's body go limp into her arms, all sorts of dark thoughts running now through her mind at the mere idea that he might've wore himself out to death.

It wasn't so much so the act of fainting itself that landed this kind of visceral reaction from her, but rather the fact that the only other time Nelliel had seen Grimm in such a rough state to the point of losing conscience was at the end of the Sexta's battle with the substitute Shinigami, when she nearly thought that she'd be losing him. It was a kind of reminder that evoked a trauma based reaction at the memory of those past events. But Nelliel had to stay strong and keep her cool. Spiraling into a panic attack right now wouldn't have done either of the any favor. She was no longer a tiny defenseless child who could only pray for a miracle to happen like back then. Now, in her adult form, she was at her full strength and could do much more than just stand by and cry, so instead, the female was quick to act and checked for Grimmjow's pulse. She knew he couldn't have been dead, but she still needed to check for her own peace of mind and to know if, need be, she had to give him any first aid. And there it was... The pulse of life still beating faintly underneath her fingertips.

Nelliel could breath a sigh of relief. "My word! Ye'd scared me to death there for a moment! Ya really can't give me a break, can't ya? This is the second and hopefully the last time I'll have to do this because of yer recklessness, Grimm!" Another sigh rolled off her lips as the ram Arrancar used all her strength to pick her friend up and plopped him over her shoulder to carry him. "Yer really going to owe me big time, Grimm! But for now, let's just go back home. Hali and the others are anxiously waiting for us. Everyone will be happy to welcome their king back after such a long time! We missed ya!"

The next time Grimmjow would be waking up, he was going to find himself in the comforting embrace of warm sheets and pillows, in the safety of his chambers in Las Noches, with a now sleeping Nell knelt on the floor on his side, holding his hand and resting her own tired head onto his arm. It would be only later that he'd learn she didn't leave his side one second since the moment she stepped foot back into the castle with him, till then, as she kept watch to make sure his state was going to turn for the better and not for the worst.

@lasextaespada

[lasextaespada]

Grimmjow hadn't given away to his exhaustion just yet. His thoughts were but a faint humming when the former Tres caught him. When she expressed her worry, his ability to reply—to confess—no, to fight against her despite his admission died. He was limp, against her shoulder. Face overtaken by a mossy-green sea. Her voice a muddle mess. Under normal circumstances, he would never have been so weak and cowardly as to admit needing help. The jaguar would have dragged himself behind some rubble and rest until his body grouped up enough strength to head back home—back to the palace.

Somehow, his brain had been awake enough, not to capture her words, but to register her scent. He normally sat slicked with the odor of a warrior—sweat laden swirled with musk, but she carried regality in her aroma. Clean. Floral in its quality. It was peace and it contrasted his turbulence, subduing him into a profound, well-needed slumber.

Like a ragdoll, Grimmjow crashed into the plushness of his bed. Or hers. He didn't know. It was all the same to him in his condition. However, there was an innate knowing that his body had been whisked to safety. In his slumber, his parted lips let out a deep breath. His eternally furrowed brows had relaxed, a faint crease sitting between them. The flowery cloud in his midst keeping his senses tame.

Waking moments were far and few between. Lucidity flickered like a dream, which Grimmjow convinced himself it had to be. He'd cracked one dulled blue eye of his open, instinctively squeezed the hand holding his before falling back into his mind's dark repose. Other times he was greeted by the rare treat of wakefulness, his condition earned his onlookers a once in a lifetime glimpse into vulnerability. He grunted. Groaned. Incapable of concealing his physical hurt.

By the time he had finally woken up in full, solitude was there keeping the room cold. No longer burdened by his tiredness, Grimmjow hauled himself upright in bed. The weak were afforded the privilege in continuing to sit in luxuries such as this. He was, in his own generous self-consideration, too strong to sit idle. Made to be clawing his way through the world. Pinged by what he thought to be the illusory memory of support, he examined his palm. Just what the hell was that? Logic forged a lousy excuse, calling that "dream" a sign he needed more training to eradicate whatever his mind was thinking up.

Not until he learned Nelliel had, in fact, been faithful to his side, only leaving for a brief moment. Long enough for him to wake and get out of bed.

"She's stupid," he said, only to himself, on the other hand, reminding himself that now, he had debt that required being repaid in full. Nelliel had seen him in total depravity and rather than taking advantage of his inferiority, she kept him well accompanied. That alone merited he do something—anything of equal value. Stupid was just the easy word. The one that would help him maintain an emotional distance as he preferred for the sake of survival.

Still bogged by injury, Grimmjow retreated to the solitary top of the palace, thinking he'd be able to shake off those green tresses his face had slumped over days prior. His scent wasn't that of the battlefield. It was her. All her. That damned cleanly aroma. Yet, he didn't fight to cleanse himself.

Just as Grimmjow straightened himself, a furious grumble in his core warned that his idleness required he work to sate his appetite. In the same wind, Nelliel's plea that he go spend time at the palace resurfaced. She was right. He was seldom present for their attempts to play human. Almost swayed by his hunger, he shook his head in total repulsion.

"King's don't play house," he muttered under his breath.

. . . but his debt loomed over him . . . .

[ramxswords]

If Grimmjow would've still had the strength in him to stand upright and challenge her, a part of Nelliel had the strong feeling that she would've ended up kicking his ass an giving him a good enough reason to faint and complain. Just seeing him like that had been the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back with her patience towards his recklessness. He was their king, their comrade and their precious friend, yet he never acknowledge any of their feelings and worries towards him, which to some extent frustrated the ram. Hallibel would've been more lenient in her stance on the matter, arguing that the Jaguar was too much of a free spirit to be kept between four walls and made to complete mundane tasks, sorting through papers, Hollow and Arrancar alike, in the mission of rehabilitating what once was their rightful kingdom.

If he was still conscious enough to feel her soft floral scent and feel the brush of her long locks of hair on his cheek and the soft breeze blowing through his hair, then Grimmjow might've been able to also hear the click of her tongue, a gesture that Nelliel only did when her patience was at its end meet. She was an understanding woman, very balanced and rational in her thinking, having always been then one to advocate for morality and the right thing to do. But at the same time, she wasn't one to stand by and allow her fellow teammate destroy themselves either. So, weather Grimmjow liked it or not, he was coming back with her and he was going to take a well deserved break, one long enough to make sure his body would be back to its prime. And all under her watchful eye, cause Nelliel was determined not to leave his side by any chance.

"Yer staying here until ya get well again and I ain't gonna take no for an answer!" Was the last thing he'd hear her say before she plopped his rad doll like body down onto the bed, then went to procure the necessary tools to tend to his battered and beaten body. Arrancar and Hollow were capable of healing themselves on their own, but the weaker one's body was, the longer it took for the healing to be effective, so there was no harm in speeding up the process with some medicinal ointments and such.

They had been lucky enough to have managed to establish somewhat of a peace treaty with Seireitei and Gotei 13 so that their transit between the human world and Hueco Mundo for resupplying wouldn't be viewed as a crime. With Aizen now defeated and the balance between the three realms reinstated, it was into everyone's best interest that each population would be able to thrive and maintain itself afloat. With the recent events that cost them many of the Espada numbers and their fracciones, Hueco Mundo was at the risk of heading into demographic collapse, which would've put the other two realms in danger too (each realm had its own purpose and so, even if Shinigami didn't appreciate the Hollows and their misdeeds in the human realm, they knew too that their existance served its own purpose), so it was best that there wouldn't be any more casualties for the Hollows.

That allowed the new leadership consisting of Hallibel, her fracciones and Nelliel to make occasional journeys between the realms and buy supplies from Urahara. The former Reaper had some really handy items in stock, with which they could rebuild some of Las Noches' broken systems and save as many of their people with his medicine. Urahara was also the one who built the little device helping Nelliel maintain her adult form for an indefinite amount of time, so she had more than one reason to be grateful for his existence and collaboration. And now his medical supplies were going to help her friend get back onto his feet.

And so, Nelliel tried her best to mend his wounds and sprained muscles, before taking a seat down onto the floor and taking his hand into hers, squeezing it in an affectionate manner which the female hoped would send across to him that he wasn't alone and she was there for him. Who knows for how long she'd then stayed like that, gazing over his sleeping figure, admiring the serenity of his now relaxed features, before laying her head down too for some sleep of her own. It was only much much later that the former Tres woke up and after making sure that Grimmjow was still safe, she made a short departure from the room to grab something to eat and drink some water.

If only she would've known that he'd be waking up in that fraction of a minute she was away, maybe Nelliel would've refrained her own needs a bit longer to be there and assist him when the Jaguar would come back to his senses. But all she could do now, when she'd returned to the room to find it empty, was to curse under her breath and try her best not to blame herself for her own stupidity.

"Grimmjow!" She called out into the vast empty hallways, pace quickened as the green-haired woman began her search for the male. She had a slight hunch where Grimmjow might've gone, but at the same time she couldn't help but worry again. Heh... Funny how lately she'd been experiencing this particular feeling way more often than she normally would've, and all because a very thick skulled feline who couldn't understand his own physical body's limits. The thought made her lips curl into a faint smile, bemused by it, before returning to that somber seriosity so characteristic to her.

Luckily, the former Sexta was feline based, which meant that, like any cat out there, he would be seeking the safety of the highest spot in the whole place. So it didn't take long before Nelliel headed for the most logical place: the rooftops of Las Noches. And there he was, shooting the wind while being seated down, his expression marked by his deep toughts.

"Ah, here ye were... For a moment I thought ya'd left again for that damned dunes..." Nelliel heaved a sigh of relief, but maintained her position at the top of the stairs, as if afraid that if she made any step closer, the male would run away again.

"Everything okay, Grimm?"

@lasextaespada

[lasextaespada]

When Nelliel caught him, his eyes sat unfixed, one of his legs hanging off the building. The other bent, providing space for his elbow to rest and his face to meet his hand. His brows tensed. His frown deepened. The impressive height he sat on didn't seem so tall and secluded anymore, yet he didn't move to reclaim what she robbed from him by showing up. He, like many enemies he killed in his day, sat defenseless, in an act of self-penance, expecting some kind of lecture as she was accustomed to handing out as though it were a party favor of sorts.

Ruminating was a displaced act, more befitting of someone like Nelliel or Halibel, but not Grimmjow. He couldn't afford to busy his mind with the idea of caring for another. No, it was more like he couldn't allow for others to see him as someone who held the capacity for concern of other's personal affairs. That'd weaken his image, and he refused to become fodder for the mentally inept that sat below the Arrancar.

Grimmjow glanced back at her. "I've been out for a while," He stated, flipping the topic to something akin to her question. He had seen enough of his injuries to note the healing he'd undergone wasn't done in a day—even if she managed to use the gift of medical advancements on him. Speaking of which, she was lucky he was out of it for the entirety of the time he had been mended by her gentle palms. He would have fought her tooth and nail for thinking he would ever need such tools to be held together. It wouldn't have mattered even if a single cell in his body knew that she was right for the intervention. She gave the help he didn't think he needed.

The space next to him beckoned for her, even if he didn't explicitly gesture for her.

Gnawing curled in his gut. Pride kept him from admitting his own need. His hunger bothered him more than the dull ache of his injuries. Grimmjow flicked his somber, bored expression off into the wasteland below. Taking its place was the mask of confidence and pride he often wore, even in times it didn't suit him. He had already indulged her, partly himself, into caving in. Relax. Rest. Heal. Even if he hadn't been conscious for a great deal of it, he wasn't going to do more of it. He had enough. Bending was far beyond his motto. Friend or foe, Grimmjow didn't care. His conquest for strength and worthy opponents was an addiction he couldn't shake—not like he ever tried to anyways.

He flexed his free arm. Under his skin, his muscles snapped, itching he'd go out and use them against the world. Gelid eyes narrowed. The quiet innermost voice in his core reminded him following his want was foolish. That same voice he considered naming after the former tres. Afterall, she drilled her sense of reason into him. It was only natural her words would crop up unwarranted, like some kind of infection.

"I could have made it back on my own," he began, in a sharp boast before tacking on, "Not like I haven't done it before." A proud laugh erupted from him.

Although true, he was only making it back for when they actually needed him. Most of the time he'd have his way and find himself in a new battle. A couple of new scuffs. The occasional tango with death—not like Nelliel would know unless she stalked his every move or he slipped it in conversation. His presence was marked by compromise.

The stale air shifted with a swirl of spiritual pressured air—a seldom weather change in Hueco Mundo's endless void. The wispy wind carried Nelliel's scent back to his nostril's, which flared ever so slightly, taking it in. In that, his debt sat. And that was wrong, among other things, but his smile said his worries were his own. His losses and self-appointed quests were his own. She was already doing as much as he’d allow of her.

The dark clouds overcast were slowly but surely waved away by the ram. That was enough to motivate his resolve, yet enough to keep him close and domesticated for now.

[ramxswords]

Stepping foot on the rooftop, Nelliel watched in silence as the Sexta turned his head around to look at her over his shoulder. There was slight annoyance hidden into the two seas of ocean blue looking straight at her, but she could also tell that there was no malice or resentment mixed in it. Pretty much, the default reaction you should've expected from Grimmjow when he wanted to be alone. In a way, Nelliel could understand the sentiment, when someone would intrude into your space when you just wanted some time alone, away from anyone and everything.

As Arrancar, they were proud creatures who didn't surrender or showed their vulnerabilities to anyone, so for him to maintain that defenseless stance as she walked in on him meant that he trusted and accepted her enough to not make a fuss about it. She wasn't going to lecture him about disappearing like that, nor was she going to complain. Nelliel was simply relieved that he didn't push him away and that he didn't leave when she followed him to his safe place.

The female Arrancar would simply nod at his reply and slowly approach him, takin a seat next to Grimmjow to admire the view granted by the height they were at. "I see. I'm glad to know that yer feeling better." Just by glancing at him one would've been able to tell that the Jaguar was far from being fully healed, but at least he was in good enough of a shape to hold himself upright and walk around freely.

"What happened back in the desert... I was worried." Was all she was going to comment on the topic. Pouring salt on his wounded pride wouldn't have served either one of them, so all Nelliel wanted to send with this one line was that she cared about him and that seeing him in such a broken state hurt her as much as he had hurt his own body. She could only hope that her feelings would reach the male and that he would see too what he meant to her, that she truly cared and wasn't expecting anything in return for helping him nor did she draw some sick twisted pleasure in showing some kind of superiority by playing 'the hero'.

Nelliel was a complicated Arrancar, even more so as she seemed to still posses a large range of her former human feelings, such as empathy and compassion towards another. She might've been rusty in displaying those emotions or even understanding them herself, but something deep within her told her that she should protect and keep safe those she cared about deeply. So was the case back with Nnoitra, but unfortunately unlike Grimmjow, the 8th Espada at the time did not understand her reasons and took her help and compassion as some sort of insult to his own shortcomings as a warrior. She didn't want to lose him, just like she didn't want to lose Grimmjow now, while she couldn't save the other male from meeting his doom, she at least wanted to make sure that history wouldn't repeat itself and lose another comrade dear to her.

After a while of silent contemplation of the wastelands below, the former Tres would return her hazel gaze back onto her friend, having felt the short movement of his body. Just as stoically, she then watched him flex his arm, the muscles tensing and stretching under his skin as he did so. Part of her would've wanted to warm him not to push his body too far too soon and that he should take it easy, but who was she kidding? This was Grimmjow were talking about, the very avatar and patron of Destruction. Telling him to take it easy and not scratch that itch of always being on the move would've been pointless and obviously foolish.

If the Sexta wanted something, he would get or do that something no matter what her or anybody else would've told him. So for now, Nelliel considered herself lucky that at least he had been wise enough as to listen to her plea for him to give his body some rest.

"I'm sure of it that at the end of the day, ye would've eventually managed to gather yourself up from the sand and limp back to Las Noches." She granted him the pleasure that she didn't doubt his capabilities, however she still wanted to accentuate how reckless he could've been in thinking he could still fend for himself in that battered state. "I just didn't like the thought of yer body laying unconscious in the desert, at the mercy of whatever wild Adjuchas or unknown threats might be lurking around."

"Yer strong Grimmjow, I don't contradict ya on that, but even ya would be smart enough to know that yer powers are useless if yer body and mind are shut down and unable to use them." Nelliel frowned in response to his prideful grin, but her expression would soon soften, unable to stay upset at the male. "On another note, I'm actually glad to have ya finally back here, even if not in the best of shapes." A warm smile would then replace the furrow of her brows.

"Las Noches feels so big and empty nowadays... The loneliness makes it feel no different from the wasteland outside its gates." Being vulnerable around someone wasn't something she'd often do either, but since Grimmjow had let his guard down for once, it was only right she'd do the same, opening her heart to him. "Truth be told, I've been missing yer presence around here. As boring and shitty as Aizen's meeting were, at least they kept us all united and together in a way. It filled that void left by the solitude of this otherwise empty place. So now, with even fewer of us remaining, it almost feels abandoned when ye and Halli are away."

@lasextaespada

[lasextaespada]

He allowed himself to be submissive to calm when the former tres colonized the space beside him. Isn't this what he wanted... deep down, far past the threshold of his conscious notions of self? It was easy to discard that there could be any emotionality driving him now. He simply was and to be that he accepted that she would simply be, however or wherever that "be" was.

Nelliel's generosity in wrapping her lecture in compliments of the jaguar's fortitude elicited a smirk. Almost glad he was, that someone saw whatever warped reality his pride managed to feed his psyche. His proud expression, a mere mirage, simmered down when her words had him imagining what a pathetic, weak sight his limp body would have been. It would have been the same body saved by another that would have been at the mercy of all of the inferiority hiding in the fractured colonies left in Las Noches. A small puff of his chest. A thickening of the air. Small actions the sixth had not meant to do but did.

For a second, Grimmjow almost spat his own excess of contradictions, but it was the weird, unfamiliar unraveling of Nelliel's proper, rationale-driven composure that stopped him. He only got as far as looking directly at her side profile, curiosity softening his features. His angular, narrow eyes rounded. He transformed, for a blip into something gentle, distant from who and what he was. Then came the painful bang . . . .

Lonely? Tier had her fracciones. Nelliel had her brothers. And Grimmjow? He had no one. Not a single soul to feel a quiet closeness to. No one to share a common goal with. There was no way in hell or any realm for that matter that the former tres could even conceive the idea of loneliness. It was laughable, for her to profess as such—and for a moment, Grimmjow thought he’d been sitting—metaphorically, on the same level as her. They were so adrift, two contrasting souls floating in different plains. Aliens to each other. It offended him to think she could understand something that haunted him at every turn.

A bitter chortle erupted and before he could even understand what his words implied, he blurted, “You don’t even know what the fuck loneliness is!”

A statement so bold only revealed that underneath Grimmjow's rough hierro, was a weakness he couldn’t shake. Killing. Scaling. That didn’t scratch that itch of his and it didn’t sate his undernourished soul. Such fragility should never have been the undercurrent of his reckless escapades, and yet it was. Worse was that now it had been splayed naked for Nelliel’s senses to capture and do with what she pleased. He gritted his teeth and considered he’d overstayed his welcome—giving into whatever the hell this was between him and Nelliel would only prove to be his undoing. At least, Grimmjow told himself such, especially since he’d, by his own hubris, shared a platter of his own expansive void.

Becoming a traitor to his ideologies clenched his chest. Had he been so blind to it? His own yearning. He had something then, with his fracciones. They rallied around him. For him. They had interwoven a sense of purpose in his irrational quest for the throne—a status without real merit. Not for someone like him. Someone whose only wish was to rebel against every restraint, only to then impose the weight of his heel over the world. Without his men, the quest seemed almost…pointless. Inconsequential. Fitting for a thoughtless realm. Beneath Nelliel’s guise, it seemed far from what he wanted.

He didn’t move. Even when his primal instincts jerked him toward the lawless sands. He betrayed himself. An innate wish to sit right here and now, beside another creature, whose only real flaw was being too daft to grasp the cruelty of the world. It became a sin Grimmjow wanted to curl against, despite every cell in his body shouting at him not to. She was too hopeful and too human for a cold place such as Hueco Mundo. A bloomed flower on dry desert sand.

He slammed his hand on the rooftop, a small crack in the infrastructure webbing past his palm. “Damn,” he cursed in a shrill, his temper only festering.

That sound was enough to get him to push himself onto his feet. The sudden movement had gotten a wobble out of him. Perhaps he wasn't so strong after all. He steadied himself, quick to hurl any signs of his incomplete recovery.

"The two of you," he ramped up again, encompassing Halibel in their discussion, "Have yer own people. You must be real naive if you think makes either of us the same in any damn way. Got that?"

There were no considerations for her in his sentiment. He meant every word and backed it up with adamant passion and a bawled-up fist. The rusted chains he fettered himself with clinked and clanked in the back of his mind, calling him back onto his unforgiving path of total self-destruction. Destroy anyone and everything that wasn't conducive to his success. Grow his strength until there was nowhere else to go. Maybe then, he'd be able to escape this feeble, chilling affliction his fracciones left behind in him. Or who knows, maybe he'd fail and become one with the sands. Any which way the coin was flipped didn't matter, so as long as he freed for good.

Grimmjow turned his back to her. He was too weak in various ways to really fight her, having finally hit a wall. Just where the hell did he anticipate going? His anger had spiked his murderous intent he so frequently and carelessly inflicted on the world, but he managed to keep himself contained. Long enough to distance himself only a few feet from Nelliel. He kept himself together, with only a hoarse exhale leaving his flared nostrils.

It didn't matter what company he had now. It would all be the same to him. This life, the one he chose to embark on, was a callous one. Leaving would only affirm the one thing they knew was true, tossing aside the stubbornness of the sixth: loneliness seemed greater without the other.

[ramxswords]

Nelliel was smarter than to allow the male's very tough appearance and mannerisms deter her from approaching him and being there for him. Grimmjow was a lone wolf by nature, but even those very familiar with and used to solitude needed a grain of connection from time to time and the former Tres could sense it too. That's why, not matter how much he'd scream or cuss at her or even push her away, Nelliel wouldn't give up on him. Not now nor ever.

She didn't fail to notice his little puff as the male pondered on her words and the meaning behind them, about how weak and pathetic he must've been as he laid there, body broken almost beyond any repair. It wasn't her intent to make him feel that way or that he wasn't strong or worthy enough, but rather that his wellbeing and health were as vital to his success and victory in battle as sharpening his senses and abilities would've been for him. "I didn't mean to hurt yer pride, Grimm. I just wanted ya to understand that being reckless like that won't serve ya any good or use in yer purpose of becoming stronger." Her eyes didn't leave him as Nelliel looked for any other reactions from the male, in case her words might be getting the opposite effect to what she sought, before continuing. "As I said, yer smarter than that to know that ye'd make more progress if ya also allowed your body to assimilate all that training and rest between breaks."

One hand reached for the other as the silence befell again the two figures sat atop the tall rooftop, in this moment of shared mutual vulnerability. Realization and relief washing over the female Arrancar as she saw her companion softening and letting loose. Luckily for her, her words had managed to reach Grimmjow, or at least a part of them had. Her hand squeezed his gently in an affectionate and encouraging manner, as if to say 'you're not alone in all of this. I'll always be by your side.'

To the outside eye, Nelliel would've seemed the farthest being from being lonely, with the many subordinates and close friends that roamed around her at every given point in time. But as ironic and paradoxal as it might've sounded, one could be surrounded by a giant crowd of people and still feel the loneliest they'd ever felt. And that was the case of the fellow queen of Hueco Mundo. Nelliel might've had someone at her side all the time, but no guard, servant or even fraccione could see or feel what went in her mind and heart. They all fought to be the first to cater to her every need, but neither of them even tried to understand or empathize with her as a person. Everyone only saw her as a queen, a ruler and symbol of wise guidance, but had they ever stopped to see the woman that existed behind the title and duties? Everyone leant on her shoulder, but Nelliel never had anyone to lean on other than herself. Hallibel was as busy as she was and her brothers had their own duties and responsibilities to attend to.

"How can ya be so sure? Had ya ever looked to see what's inside my heart?" The words didn't come as a reproach to his clumsy bluntness at her own emotions and feelings, but as an invitation to take a glimpse beneath the surface, to take a look at Nelliel the woman and not the warrior or symbol. "I know it might be hard to believe, but even I can feel lonely every now and then. Everyone thinks they know ya, they admire ya and look up to ya, but no one truly takes a second to wonder how yer feeling or if yer okay." Despite her calm and composed impenetrable front, there was something deep within Nelliel that betrayed her inner anguish. "But who can blame them? They don't know what it's like to feel abandoned and lost, to wander around without a purpose or a goal or how it's like to always second guess yourself, to wonder if yer decision were the right ones or if ya'd messed up big time. To them we are their rulers and their saviors. Their infallible gods and that comes with a lot of pressure."

She didn't judge him though, for doubting her. In a sense, they were similar in more ways than one, both of them hiding their own vulnerabilities behind high, unbreakable walls they'd put up between them and the outside. While Grimmjow's were more direct and in your face, through his savagery and wild anger meant to push everyone else away, hers was more of a subtle defense of perfect composure, a facade of inner control and balance capable to withstand any and all challenges on her own. Nelliel sighed softly but she didn't show any sign she'd been annoyed or upset by what Grimmjow had said. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound insensitive or have a better than thou attitude... I am aware ya've got a lot on yer plate as well and ya've got yer own reasoning." The last thing she'd want right now was to push him away, especially now when it felt like they'd finally managed to open up to one another even if just a little.

While she hadn't been there to witness it first hand when Grimmjow had lost his men, his only form of family he'd ever known, loss was something that was very familiar to the former Tres. She was the avatar of Sacrifice, a term of rich complexity that on its own could represent a form of loss: losing something in favor of another thing, the conscious renouncing of a part of you, whether it be metaphorical or literal. So if someone could and would understand what the former Sexta was going through, that'd be Nelliel. She'd been there too, albeit in a different set of circumstances, at a point where she'd felt like everything was lost and there was nothing left worth fighting for, where she'd felt like everything she held dear had been brutally stripped away from her to where she even felt like she'd lost her own self, her identity. But while she'd found solace in a state of innocent ignorance by regressing to a child like state, Grimmjow had been forced to face his own grief while continuing to fight over and over again without a moment of respite.

Time stood still for a brief moment, neither of the uttering another word or sketching a move, which made Nelliel wonder if she'd done the right thing. Then as brutally and suddenly as the thunder breaking the silence of a storm, the Jaguar's hand slammed into the rooftop beside him, startling the Arrancar woman to where she'd nearly jolted into a defensive stance. Had she been wrong all along about her words reaching him? Had she only angered him all along? Nelliel wasn't sure what to say or how to react anymore. This had been so fast... One moment he seemed relaxed then this... She didn't understand either.

"Grimmjow, I didn't mean to..." Her words remained hanged in the air as he cut her off sharply and unapologetically, words cutting through her with venom.

Maybe all along she'd been too naive to think that she would be able to reach him and maki him understand... But he was wrong in his accusations. While Grimmjow wasn't mistaken that there were things neither her or Hallibel could understand, that didn't mean they didn't face their own pain and hardships.

Something about the way he'd said those things, hurtful in nature and intent, made something deep within Nelliel curl up and rumble with in cold anger.

"That's enough, Grimmjow! Ya've gone too far this time!" Mirroring the male, the ram stood up and faced him. "While I can understand yer angry and upset, that doesn't give ya any right to say that me or Hallibel don't have our own problems or that our struggles don't match yers!"

And now he had the audacity to try and leave without even addressing her?! While she cared about him and only wanted the best for Grimmjow, there were things that even Nelliel couldn't tolerate when someone dared hurt her deeply in her pride. So, in a last ditch effort, she did the last thing she could think of and challenged him. "Where are ya going? Is that it? Yer just gonna leave like that and dismiss everything I've just said?!" Her fingers balled into fists, lips pursing together in displeasure and disappointment. "Running away won't make ya stronger Grimmjow! Pushing me and Hallibel away from ya and running away from us and yer own feelings will only do the opposite! Is that what you want?!"

@lasextaespada

[lasextaespada]

Rage colored Grimmjow's red canvas, only for a deeper crimson to splash over it with one aggressive brushstroke from Nelliel. It was a first for him. Pacifism always painted a pretty yet wretched image of Nelliel for him. It was a stern—holier than thou approach she reprimanded him with, but this was different. It was raw and unfiltered...maybe a little too close to himself like maybe he'd fractured her front of stable perfection. Had his fire wilted her lofty, lush emotional ecosystem?

Her closing words slammed his mind in a broken loop. "Running away won't make ya stronger Grimmjow!..." His breath hitched. "...Pushing me and Hallibel away from ya and running away from us and yer own feelings will only do the opposite!..." Something broke. "Is that what you want?!" Such impassioned words repeated themselves until the tape of this terrible film unwound and flung itself outside its casing.

Life was a real bitch sometimes, making a person so stubborn to not just their wants but their needs. Grimmjow wanted more than anything to rewind the conversation and shred it before it progressed. Why? In short, Nelliel was right so much so it physically hurt. She saw his need and named it in a way he never could. It proved he had weaknesses beyond the physical—his kind were conditioned to be opposed to emotions. The pain constricted his chest, presumably tightening around something that shouldn't figuratively exist. How much running and destruction would fix him? If it hadn't done any good for him now, it never would. Yet he was addicted to letting his flames burn all in its wake.

Bruises healed. Scratches scabbed. Deep cuts were always stitched up. Why were his wounds always unraveling when he'd always done everything to keep himself together? He fought. He'd gotten stronger. Hell, he had nine lives. Yet, he felt as though the scar bisecting his shoulder, chest, and abdomen rot into an open festering wound with all of his organs spilling out in a vile mess.

He became a glutton for self-punishment in the way he did nothing to pick himself up anymore. "You're a real fuckin' pain in the ass," he said before raising his voice and wildly gesticulating with his hands, "You don't know when to fuckin' let go! Just because your brothers are brutes and everyone's busy doesn't mean you suddenly get the shit you've never faced!"

What he meant to say that even in her emotional isolation, she could always turn any given corner in Las Noches and find her brothers. He clung to memories and small wisps of something that suggested maybe his fracciones weren't all that gone to him. She had something tangible to look forward to. Just because her brothers were emotionally incongruent to her didn't mean she was as desolate as she presumed. Even in his primal anger, Grimmjow was not blind to truth.

Deep down, he cried out for her to fight harder against him. Call out his bluff. Anger was the means to keep himself upright. It made facing the world easier, something he didn't consciously come up with. His physical actions wore down the energy he'd gathered during his long rest. As he faced her again, the strain stiffened his expression. His jaw tightened further. There was a light fuzziness in his vision, and he squinted in an attempt to recapture the clear sight he had of her moments before.

"Don't take me for something you can just fix with words. Look at how that worked for that pathetic bastard, Nnoitra," he finalized, not without getting—with great difficulty, a last glance at the array of emotions she displayed before him. He had wanted a good look at her before his impulsivity had him landing the last blow.

With a woosh of his sonido, he was gone. Opponents who fled rather than fought were the most piteous and for the first time, Grimmjow had become what he scoffed at. He ran with his tail between his legs. In part, he'd have drawn his sword if it helped prove a point, but the absence of physical strength had him retreating. He was nothing without his fists and the illusion of pride he wore.

He manifested in his quarters—a place he seldom visited. A band tightened around his skull, and in his blur, he slammed against a side table, cursing through gritted teeth. The world around him darkened and suddenly he found himself on the couch, steadied by its hard backing. His breath had picked up and settled just as fast. He was too brash and stupid to allow himself to do more than his current fragility allowed, but it's not like he regretted being a hard ass.

In the darkness, Grimmjow held himself with one hand and his eyes fixed themselves upon the fuzzed blob that was his other hand—the same one Nelliel had caught in her own palm when he kept himself docile. Had he been as worn as when she saved him, he was certain he'd have been an incoherent mess under her touch, accepting whatever comforts she offered. Grimmjow knew without a shadow of a doubt she would have gotten the wrong impression of him and considered him some kind of confidant like they were jolly chums of sorts.

He lazily blinked against his wavering consciousness. Every tense muscle in him loosened, his mind operating loudly as his body relinquished its desires toward violence. His reiastu oscillating in intensity.

It was never about having family. Grimmjow missed his fracciones, sure, but Neliel had a point. It was his leadership and strength that had cast him apart from his men after their deaths. That was the nature of making it through. He had lived what felt like an eternity now, having to swallow the reality where he had devoured any chance of survival for them when he led them into an ambush they were ill-equipped for. They were truly his men for his word was their sword and yet their demise.

A sharp breath collapsed silence. "You're our king," he remembered Di Roy earnestly professing. The others weren't as vocal, but they worked tirelessly toward strength and power just for him. Grimmjow had slammed hard into his memories of his men. Ambient temperature dropped and Grimmjow had wondered if his close brush-ups with death had been comparable to what his men had faced.... Did Nelliel understand this weakness? Did she bleed just the same as he did? He grunted, laying his head back and recouping just enough of himself to be aware instinct took him to where he was easily detectable, and he eased the erratic flow of his spiritual pressure.

Grimmjow didn't wish for death, but he wondered why, despite being a lone survivor, he felt inferior to the dead. This affliction that had destabilized him was more than just a couple of injuries. Oddly, he had felt fine—as close to fine as one could get with his gnarly wounds, before the Former Tres entrenched herself in his space. He had been hiding beneath a rock that she picked up all because hers glittered and felt just the same and yet he wondered why she hadn't done so sooner.

[lasextaespada]

[lasextaespada]

OOC: What a crazy number, isn’t it?! 100 isn’t a lot, I know. However, I am quite excited about the milestone considering I started this page without intention of growing it. If anything, I was looking for a little community to squeeze into.

So thank you!

I hope to interact with more peeps, although I should get creative on making posts fellow role-players would love to chime in on. Additionally, I need to be better about allowing myself to jump on other’s posts. I’m a little shy these days XD

Lastly, I’ll get to replies soon. I kept socializing waaaaaaay past my (social) battery’s limit around my birthday and after, so I’m just now recovering from that.

[thedearwriter]

I don’t want to text you.

I want to bite you.

[lasextaespada]

Grimmjow:

[inosukz]

(SE3EP6) GRIMMJOW JAEGERJAQUEZ — ✦ BLEACH: THOUSAND YEAR BLOOD WAR – THE CONFLICT

[lasextaespada]

💭 + Nnoitra 8)

Fuck him. Never did Grimmjow have a moment where he could liken to the idea of enjoying Nnoitra’s company. Nnoitra’s vendetta against Nelliel was abhorrent. He was, to put it bluntly, pathetic. A total pain in the ass.

Well in Grimmjow’s case, a literal pain in the shoulder.

Nnoitra’s lasting scar was one Grimmjow kept. It flared when he remembered the injury and if alone, he’d slip a hand under his clothes and trace it. Other times, he fought against clawing at it out of frustration. The mention of Nnoitra had the bumpy, puckered skin of his scar burning.

He would have loved to do to Nnoitra was Kenpachi had done. Although, in his delirium on the sand, Grimmjow hadn’t been sure what had happened, except that Nnoitra turned up dead.

“Nnoitra’s a total ass. Doesn’t know that yer not supposed to be sticking yer nose in someone else’s battle,” he said, his voice more like a disappointed mutter. Almost like he was sulking.

All things considered, Grimmjow was just a total sourpuss about what happened—the attack being something he blamed as the sole factor for his unsettled score with the punk-haired shinigami. Yet, he was too stubborn to admit that Nnoitra simply did for him what he would never decide for himself: force him to back down. Not like Grimmjow to appreciate the accidental positive in a world of intentional negatives.

But if the fifth turned up, he’d have a go at him, and teach him a lesson or two.

[flastep]

stretches her back like the cat she is.

[lasextaespada]

And not too far, he cleaned himself like the overgrown cat he was, totally oblivious to her.

[lasextaespada]

OOC: Anytime I’m on top of my work, cleaning, and writing I feel like I’ve ascended. Plus, my cat didn’t make a big mess with her food this morning so cleaning that up is SO QUICK. #Blessed

The rewards for that are also incredibly motivating. 10/10 recommend being on top of whatever responsibilities you have.

Anyways, if you need me today, I’ll be hustling. Gotta get money for the honey’s. In this case my cat is the honey. LMAO

[icybreaths]

|| @lasextaespada || x. ||

Jewel anchored her nails into the corpse’s armored eye sockets, crouching and cinching up as she leered at the old man yelling at her from across the dunes. Was he serious?!

“Haaaah?!” she croaked out, graveling, “Didn’t have your name on it! Go yell at a cloud about your inadequacies!!”

Clouds that would be bountiful because of her generosity.

Plucking a tall needle of ice from the sand, she set about cutting the hair of (her) kill (she) earned.

[lasextaespada]

Grimmjow was quite serious about what he deemed to be his prey. It was supposed to be his kill. His feast. By now, had things gone his way, he’d be reaping the fruits of his labor. Instead, the fruit was molded and rotten, and to make matters worse, a large fly crowded it.

He puffed his chest out. Not on purpose. No. More as a physical assertion of dominance without violence. Like a warning at best.

“Ain’t nobody teach you what the hell happens when you steal someone else’s prey?” He barked, a second warning.

The clouds overcast and ambient frost did nothing to quell the fiery eruption. It only riled him up further, and tack on her words… his patience, if it ever existed was worn to oblivion. One swift unsheathing of pantera’s jagged edge and a powerful bounce had the sixth charging straight for the thief in his midst.

Good thing Grimmjow never considered himself rational. He’d be outed as an even greater fool had he done such.

[lasextaespada]

💭 + Di Roy

A good comrade. Those words would have been what Grimmjow would have elected, if being emotionally forward were normal to his species. If admiration didn’t equate to weakness. Instead, he turned over his initial thought and converted it into something unpleasant.

“Di Roy was weak and that got him killed,” he bluntly answered.

Yet, something in his chest sunk, betraying his very words. His fallen comrades were the essence of his conquest for a crown. Di Roy voiced his belief in the him, and while Grimmjow might be too emotionally stunted to ever admit it, the encouragement his comrade expressed replayed endlessly in his mind. Long after his death.

His fracciones were family. Simply calling any of them “good” were reductions to their impact on his life—his soul. Alas, Grimmjow didn’t have a broad vocabulary for expressing anything light, even if to himself.

[lasextaespada]

💭+ Szayelaporro

That freak? Grimmjow wasn’t particularly fond of Szyaelaparro, but there were moments where he kept himself impartial to the mad scientist. Those were far and few between. Generally…he much preferred to stay away.

“That pink fuck’s crazy,” he scoffed.

And pathetic. The rumor of how Nelliel had fallen from her rank had made it to the sixth once before. While he had to give Szayelaparro some credit for having the audacity to partake in such a plan, he also held distaste for anyone climbing ranks by exploiting their opponents via physical inequalities.

More importantly, Grimmjow found it deplorable that it took two men to get the job done. Doesn’t make either of them worth any praise. A truly strong warrior would have carved their way through on their own.

Either which way, it was just a rumor the sixth never cared enough to verify.

[lasextaespada]

An increasingly hellish blizzard whipped into his general vicinity. Snow and malformed needle-like hail filtered the echo of a large beast's roar, muffling the crispness of its screech in white noise. Blood and stress flavored the air between the sparse bodies inching to a halt as they succumbed. Jewel perched atop her biggest, newest kill, taking notice of the distant Arrancar, but making no move towards him. She focused on her kill, fisting clumps of its hair and pawing at her bloodied face. (// woe, creature be upon ye-)

The weather in Hueco Mundo was permanently stale. Grimmjow or anyone for that matter were lucky enough if they were graced with so much as a little breeze. And after a laborious match, anything to cool off sweat was much appreciated.

This didn’t mean the sexta took kindly to cold weather. Quite frankly, it was far too sharp for his liking. Too slow. Much like the invariable temperament of Hueco Mundo’s seasons. Heat intensified every slice. Every punch. Hell, it even magnified his stride. This is to say, his senses picked up the dip in temperature—even at a considerable distance. That set his radar ablaze.

“‘the fuck,” Grimmjow muttered with a snarl.

He had been hunting, tracking a large beast—only his target’s reiastu flicked into nothing. The air swallowed it whole, leaving only crumbs of energy floating. It was the world mocking the starved jaguar.

He scanned the perimeter, landing on the frosty bi—well, that’s not a word Grimmjow would particularly use from the get go. However, he was angry and he hurled his wrath like he did his fists.

“Oi! That was mine!” He roared. It was more like the cry from a petulant brat demanding claim over nothing.

This wasn’t his first encounter with the chilly Soul Reaper and from the looks of it, it certainly wouldn’t be the last . . . .

[lasextaespada]

Send "💭+ a name" to hear the first thought about that person that comes to my muse's mind.

[lasextaespada]

Romantic Head Canon’s for Grimmjow

Anything remotely explicit sits under the cut. Everything is strictly for my portrayal of him. Not rules other Grimm-writers should ever feel pressured to abide by.

• Grimmjow takes to quiet comfort of another. Being verbally and physically challenged excites him, but the shared silence between himself and his significant other is a level of intimacy he revels in. However, he’ll never admit it.

• He wears his pride like a badge of sorts. The moment that facade breaks, it means that on a subconscious level, something’s changed. It reads like shame at first glance, but it’s something less embarrassing he hasn’t realized yet.

• To the outside world, it seems as though Grimmjow never eats. He's alert at all hours. In true predator fashion, he eats when he's "safe," which no one ever catches except for his significant other. That’s when his defenses lower and comfort settles in.

• Love is a foreign concept. Grimmjow yearns for closeness, and initially, whatever is as close to love as a hollow like himself can feel starts off as some kind of twisted hunger. Seeming insatiable. Battling and hunting does nothing for him. Unable to calm something so primal yet elusive frustrates him.

• By nature, Grimmjow is monogamous. He does not seek out romance. It's something that simply crops up for him. When he finds the one person that changes his worldview in a way he doesn't realize until it's too late, he pursues them. It’s rare and not your typical romantic gesture when it does happen.

• In many ways, the sixth is rebellious, testing boundaries, but not when it comes to a partner. He's fiercely loyal. Conversely, he expects the same level of loyalty back.

• As a partner, Grimmjow much prefers to lead in the bedroom. If he’s blindsided or curious, he’ll find himself settling beneath his partner. It’s his own way of saying they sit on the same plane.

• He holds a preference for neck biting. Something about kissing such a vulnerable space does it for him. Like a predator staking its claim on prey.

• He’s very tactile. He likes to feel, in lustful admiration, every inch of his partner’s frame. Every curve. Every sharp edge. To paw and squeeze.

• He's as aggressive as he is gentle. Although usually it takes being worn down to get any shred of gentleness from him. And it's usually a personal battle against exhaustion to please and be pleased.

• Bonus if his partner matches his own sexual temperament.

• Although he isn't sex crazy, Grimmjow doesn't shy away from showing when he wants his partner. It's not about what he says but by how he shows it.

• A fresh battle either he or his partner was in turns him on. It's a different kind of high. Bonus if the "battle" was between himself and his partner.

I’m sure there’s more and this is already a little long, but I can certainly make a part 2 if anyone likes.