#deathblizzard

[black--sun]

@deathblizzard || from here

“Fine. I won’t pop by your new classes.” Rukia frowns at the outright block to her entertaining thought. Even still, with her arms crossed, her strategist’s cogs are already turning and she’s decided to indulge it to the point of pushing him further. Quickly, she swaps from crossing her arms to crossing her legs as she goes from joking to outright pitching said idea, switching hats from jester to director. There was nothing more an old competent thief delighted in more than plotting out her scheme right before the horror of her victim’s eyes to their dismay.

 “But you know, I could if I really wanted to. It’d be far easier without the need to steal a uniform or anything.” She states plainly, reckoning the easy preparation. Placing her finger upon her chin, she continues playing innocent. “Do you think I should mix up my old character? I could probably throw something together, find a pair of glasses…” Humming a cheery tune, she eyes around the room, seeing if she could possibly find a pair to snag right then and there. “And to make a grand entrance I could go through the vent system? No, Maybe something better…“ Rukia trails off, ducking her head as she continues thinking. Her thoughtful expression molds quickly to a mischievous grin, like a film cutting forward too quickly, as she looks at him for properly, teasing, possibly threatening, daring him to underestimate her pettiness. “But I surely don’t have time for such things, right?“ 

She sighs as she drops her act, a soft smile replacing her scheming one. “But it's good to see you faring well from the sounds of it.. You seem good.” If he could freely get mad at her for little things like this, his problems must be simple enough.

He’s missed this. Not that he would ever tell her on pain of death. But that’s the thing about Rukia. He doesn’t always have to tell her things. Especially the hard things.

Ichigo leans an elbow on his desk, pausing his work to flick her a look. “Uh huh. It would be even easier to just show up in spirit form and walk in through the wall, I bet,” he appends dryly. Maybe if she hears it for herself, she’ll catch how ridiculous it sounds. Sneaking into a university classroom when she could just likely walk through the door and not be noticed. Or she won’t catch on. She does seem determined.

He jots down another word, only just able to keep from rolling his eyes. “You’re going to get yourself arrested, more like. Or stuck.” Rukia’s not an idiot, the little disaster is too crafty to get stuck. But arrested… maybe. If they could catch her.

He narrows his eyes when she doesn’t seem off put in the slightest with his helpful suggestions, catching that little challenge she seems to be aiming his way. Maybe his attempts just have to be wilder to outclass her half-baked shenanigans. But he's glad she mentioned the glasses. Now, he can hide any of his, so they don't go missing. “Or you could show up before class and pretend to be the professor. Find one of those high backed chairs…” He lifts a hand to twirl a finger. “Spin it around dramatically. I’d never see that coming.” If his tone gets any flatter, there might be permanent damage to his vocal cords.

Except, she changes things up on him, switching the conversation around and leaving him off-balance.

Ichigo blinks, head shifting to look at her more fully. It takes a second before he feels his air give way in a light huff and he smirks, just a little, even though she hardly deserves it after that harassment. “Yeah.” And it’s comfortable again in that particular way that’s unique to her. Just like always. “You’ve been gone a while. Things are good here.” A lot’s changed, and nothing has. All at the same time. But the conversation seems in danger of getting sappy, so he drops his pencil and leans back to cross his own arms over his chest. “I mean, you’re not bringing a bunch of trouble with you, so that’s to be expected. But seriously, Rukia. What kind of people are you sending us? They need babysat more often than they don’t.” Which doesn’t mean he doesn’t like them.

[jaegersol]

@deathblizzard asked: “I’m simply suggesting you could all benefit from some well-practiced restraint.”

Legend of Vox Machina

“Restraint.” He says through gritted teeth, voice flat and eyes cold. “You clearly haven’t noticed the part where I haven’t killed you yet.” 

He is perfectly fucking restrained. He’s bloody made of restraint. He’s so restrained he’s a fucking priest in a kindergarten.

His gaze darts back to the window, the thin slates of wood and glass that separate his current hell from the blisteringly cold outdoors. AND from his escape route from Kisuke’s gigai. He can see the great sheets of white whipping past the window in brutal spirals and everything the wind blows, the doors and window panes rattle. He swears he can feel the breeze inside. The cold seeps in through every crevice. He is hierro-less.

He still thinks he could kill her if he got fingers around her throat. She’s tiny. She should be thanking him for his restraint. Fucking ungrateful bitch.

“The sooner Kisuke gets back the sooner you won’t have to worry about my restraint.”

[jaegersol]

@deathblizzard​ asked: “I’m simply suggesting you could all benefit from some well-practiced restraint.”

Prompted Starter

Grimmjow turns on her with a snarl, all his teeth - his FLAT USELESS FUCKING TEETH - on display and it doesn’t hold even a fraction of the threat he wishes it did. It does not make him feel the slightest bit better. He can’t even tell if his lips are pulled back right, if the body is moving right. It feels like everything he does is muted. Sedated.

“Restraint?!” He hisses, wild eyed at the little shinigami. Even that comes out wrong. Human vocal cords not meant for the language of hollows. “I am more than FUCKING RESTRAINED right now.”

He literally can do nothing. His gigai is weaker than shit, it can’t do shit. He feels vulnerable. At least when he had the option of leaving, he knew it was temporary. He could just. Pop the cork and be free.

But it’s broken. Whatever the release mechanism that these things have is broken. He’s trapped.

He hopes his yelling will scare her enough to make her back the fuck off at least. He’s almost killed her before. Maybe he did and the only reason she’s here now is the orange haired woman and her magic. He wishes it made her more wary.

[playkinshara]

@deathblizzard

Rose sits back in his chair, surveying the young woman across his desk, a little unsure what to make of her. He knows she’s not exactly here out of love for art or anything like that, but that’s okay. She’s not the first noble who’s come to him for help and Rose doubts she’ll be the last. 

“It would be my pleasure to assist you with that, lieutenant”

He offers an easy smile, her request simple enough that he doesn’t need to think too hard before giving this acceptance. It’s only a few lessons and a little coaching, nothing he hasn’t done before.  It also doesn’t hurt to court good favour with a high ranking clan such as the Kuchiki’s either. That’s reason enough to welcome her in and hear her out. Perhaps with enough effort, he might even begin to foster that spark within her.

Practicality kicks in, and he moves onto the nuts and bolts of what needs to be done without much fuss. She’s hear already, isn’t she? So why waste time. She’s been clear in her needs after all. What would be the point in sending her away only to bring her back later again. 

“So, where would you like to begin? Perhaps it’s sensible if you play me something, let me assess what we need to work on”

[royaldreamweaver]

[ HAIR ]:sender and receiver bathe and style one another’s hair.

@deathblizzard

Shutara sees her in the bath and comes closer. It's rare that Shutara meets someone who is shorter than she is, but even without that, she'd know who this woman was. Shutara also knows that she will be recognized in turn.

Only this time...Shutara is also unclothed. She knows that she doesn't always make the best impression on those who she needs to dress...but the only way that she can be sure to make a garment that is worthy of a soul...is to see it from every angle.

Her own long, dark hair isn't pinned up. Something rarely seen. It spills over her shoulders, breaking over collarbones and joints that stick out just a little too sharply, though few will ever mention that fact. Her locks cover the scar that suggests what was once a deep gouge in her shoulder.

She has the cup in her hand and she fills it with warm water from the tap.

"Let me," she says reaching her true hand towards Rukia's dark hair. "If it's all right," she says. "Sometimes it's nice to have an extra set of hands."