#cyansovereign

     You know, he hadn’t even meant to fall asleep. Sure, he didn’t really feel like getting up and going back to the thirteenth, but there were other factors involved that motivated him into laying back and leaning heavily against the lieutenant of the twelfth division. One of which being that he knew he’d only get something out of him if he caught him off guard. So, feigning sleep wasn’t exactly outside the realm of possibility when romantic gestures were on the line.

    But uh… GUESS THAT SORT OF BACKFIRED. He couldn’t even stay awake long enough to feel the subtle press of lips to the side of his jaw, as much as he’d anticipated the gesture and readied himself for it. He had all these plans of letting his smile grow into a very large, very smug, shit-eat grin; plans of turning his face at the last second so as to force the guy into kissing his lips, rather than the side of his face. But ah, oh well. There’s always next time, he supposes.

Why he allows Grimmjow to do these things to him, he’ll never understand.  

Why he trusts that a split second of pain would not lead to more, or perhaps worse, is beyond him, but whatever the reason he’d sat still and let Grimmjow maneuver as needed to pierce the lobe and in the end, secure his apparent birthday gift into place.  Much of it remains hidden beneath the mask, but he knows it’s there. He feels it against his skin, in the added weight in his ear, in the way catches on the bony plate veiling it. Not something he ever thought he’d be wearing, but now that he is, he can’t imagine being without.

He cannot help but dip beneath the mask to run his fingers over its form, immediately catching the shape of a fang not unlike that which he’d given Grimmjow the month before.  “You didn’t…” He turns slowly toward Grimmjow, and for a split second, finds himself unable to meet those eyes. No, Grimmjow didn’t have to do it. Surely no one knew that better than the man himself, yet there he was, doing it anyway.  There IS a question of why the Espada might care to do it, but that is soon overshadowed. Grimmjow gave him something. For his birthday, no less. Something that appeared to have been designed personally, if not crafted as well. Maybe he’s mistaken on that assumption, but it sure as hell seemed that way and that’s good enough for him.  Needless to say, he loves it. Again, it’s a modification and adornment he never thought he’d have, but that makes no difference. Soon he’s practically beaming at Grimmjow … but there is one small issue, as his opinion is not the only one to consider.  

Would Lord Baraggan …?  

For a second his enthusiasm dampens.  Wide eyes, still yet to leave Grimmjow, falter, softening as the thought really hits him.  What if…what if his lord did not approve of it? What if he really didn’t like it, or worse, ordered Abirama to remove it?  It breaks his heart to think of that, but it is a possibility….

AAAHHHHH!

“It was an accident, I swear!”  Hands quickly move behind her back, cheeks as red as the thread in her kimono - she would be embarrassed by inadvertently touching anyone like that - but even more so by the fact that it was him, someone she barely knew and was still a little apprehensive around.  

this is not her usual battleground. many of these creatures are not even her usual fare. humanoids she understands. the tanks and the helicopters and the t-rexes she understands less. but these? kazue ducks beneath a set of snapping jaws, driving her beloved doublis home, up under the jaw to splinter the crystal mask to pieces, taking the foul beast with it.

these... she was unsure of their name, but they were not Phantoms, and so she would have left them alone had they not chosen to attempt to lay waste to her. these creatures typically knew their place - her strength made them flee, but these thought themselves a superior breed, only to be cut down in response. it’s not ideal, dodging so many of these in such a dark, depressing place, but she has little choice in the matter at the moment, and so she does what she must, shattering glassy masks and avoiding the danger in their crystals. she makes note of this place - it unsettles her and she knows instinctively that this is not a world in which she belongs.

most of them dissolve upon hitting the ground, destroyed with no will to hold them together. but in her distraction, kazue fails to notice the predator within her midst, watching the battle from a distance.

"Well, shit, we gotta find someone to get on that. Maybe they'll have some luck finally pullin' that stick outta your ass-"

cyansovereign replied to your post: “💦 At what age did my muse lose their virginity?”:

piccolo tfs voice from grimmjow in the distance: neeeeeerd

He hates them.

             There is a very large one on the left side of his neck that looks like something exploded right near his shoulder, and another across his abdomen that looks like he was almost cut in half. It crosses his navel and starts very large on his left side and then gets smaller and stops.  He has a bunch of other small ones on his body, some of his hands (Myles stabbed him with a fork once) and one by his ear (he got in a knife fight), but the most important ones are the neck and ab ones. 

            In all verses, these two are caused during the death of his boyfriend, Nicholas.             Canonically, Troy is the one who actually kills him and the scars are aftermath of... well, a lot of unpleasant and tragic things.              In any other modern verse, I usually have that it was a car accident that Troy and Nicholas end up in where Nicholas dies and Troy ends up in the hospital for weeks, but I haven’t actually settled on that. 

            It’s not until he comes too, nearly dead himself, that he realizes what happened.  It’s the reason he doesn’t talk and doesn’t like to talk - not because he’s not capable, but because it’s one of many punishments he puts on himself. He firmly believes that he is the reason Nicholas is dead and the scars are just physical representation of what he’s done.  They take him back to a really ugly place in his life and he doesn’t like it when people look at them or touch them. He can’t feel anything in those places anyway because of the extensive nerve damage, so if someone presses on them, it just feels like an unpleasant static.