#Best bleach brave souls characters

[slowd1ving]

EAT MY HEART, I'LL EAT YOURS ⁺ 　 . ✦ MOZE

Seek the answer ‘neath the tides,  Madness shall prosper, forget her wiles,  The moon grins once again tonight.  He hates you. He hates your plans, how you talk, how you work. He loathes being stuck with you: detests it to his very core. But that's great, because the feeling is mutual with you! Tied to an ill-omened crow of your own, what's there not to abhor? continuation of tales of a disgruntled corvid art by @ RMavio on x!! pairing: moze + male reader warnings: blood, death, violence, yall HATE each other bro, v slow burn, pre established relationship (if you don't count the relationship of HATING each other's GUTS) wc: 6.3k

HONKAI STAR RAIL MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

Copper defiles the carefully manufactured oxygen that circulates this tiny starship. Its stench pervades the past the clean air, past the distinctly alkaline tang of bleach, and past what little protection your visor affords you. In fact, the clear nanocomputers pick up on a distinctly sanguine hue to the air: labelling tiny crimson specks as biological matter—human blood (tentative). 

“Adult Foxian male, died approximately forty hours ago,” the man crouched before you narrates, oblivious to the you who stares up at the ceiling of the small room—as if the gesture could possibly shield you from the horrifying reality at your feet. No matter how many times you’ve stepped into a situation like this (too many to count ever since your career path practically merged with the Shadow Guards’), you don’t think you’ll ever get used to this. This is Moze’s sphere of knowledge: Moze’s work that intimately twines and dances with the very cesspit of vice and umbrage. 

“Died from presumably loss of blood caused by the deep lacerations across his abdomen and throat,” he continues—the details, unfortunately, seep into your brain as you try your best to tune him out. Thank you, Captain Obvious, you’d bite out, but unfortunately opening your mouth in these conditions would make you sick. “Or at least, that’s what the perpetrator would want us to think.”

There’s viscera splashed even on the very walls. Messy streaks of scarlet contaminate the aged wallpaper in the small room: capricious strokes, as though a child painted them, form characters and seemingly random lines of verse that register as unusual on your visor. That’s your area of expertise. 

Like clockwork, your gaze remains unwavering on the riddle presented on the structure. That’s how you’ve dealt with being in such proximity to Reapers: by pretending the wall is a block of stone and its red ink is precisely that—ink. That’s how you separate yourself from the victims of these gruesome cases; bit by bit, you’re slowly growing accustomed to the nauseating reek of metal that wafts before you. 

And so, when you finally glance down at the glazed-over eyes of the latest victim, it is with startling impassiveness that you assess his cadaver. He’s gone, you accept. Your little ritual has worked, as it oft does. 

“Same sigils as the other bodies.” You finally regain your voice, and the silver-haired man turns his sharp gaze up at you. “But the last line to the verse is different.”

Seek the answer ‘neath the tides, 

Madness shall prosper, forget her wiles, 

The moon grins once again tonight. 

The characters rest heavy on your tongue—foreign meanings straightening themselves out as you slowly sound out the snippet. It’s a verse from a children’s book of poems: a short tale about an obsolete, oceanic planet and its restoration by few brave souls. 

“The moon slumbered tonight,” you mutter the original line to yourself. This ancient script doesn’t suit the naïve phrases, but it’s commonly used for rituals—both antique and modern, you’ve unfortunately found. 

With a heavy sigh, you pull out the gun in your holster; it’s warm, humming to life which seems terribly ironic to you, considering where you are. You’ve not used the weapon for quite some time: the flickering it emits seems both familiar and unfamiliar. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” His clipped speech warily assesses the ease with which you handle the arm you never seem to use: preferring the glassy, almost invisible blade currently strapped across your back when in combat. 

“Xiaoze,” you sigh tauntingly, infusing the firearm with quantum energy that briefly glows indigo in this dim room. “Shut up and let me do my job.”

“Ew,” his face sours almost immediately at the nickname, embittered by both how it drips with condescension and no real affection, and how off putting it is for you of all people to be adding things to his name. “Don’t do that.”

“Then shut up.” You line the sights experimentally, having successfully blackmailed the Shadow Guard into keeping mum for a few minutes while you turn the qualitative verse into quantitative data. Perhaps he does feel threatened by the promise, for you only feel his heavy stare on you and not his words. 

The bullet careens and phases through the wall where the verse is located, and with a shimmer of data, the strings of numbers behind the verse reveal themselves: meaningless to all but yourself. It’s a temporary display, containing important information about the very foundations of this riddle. Or, at least, it’s a shortcut since the verse has already been decoded. 

Seek the answer ‘neath the tides: a reference to where the power ‘current’ of Madam General Feixiao is absent. Or at least, these murder locations point to that; they’re in the areas least looked over in the Alliance: namely, not aboard the Flagship. 

Madness shall prosper, forget her wiles: a crude depiction of Moon Rage, as well as the shedding of a ‘Foxian’ identity. Considering all these victims have been Foxian, it’s no far-fetched assumption to think that these have all been building up to something sinister. 

The moon slumbered tonight: a reference to the plaguemark hung over the Yaoqing—a moon left behind by Yaoshi. Past tense. Sleeping.

But that had all changed with this particular murder. Whatever goal the perpetrator hoped to achieve was finally coming into fruition with the awakening of this ‘moon’. 

The data transmitted onto your visor is as elapsed: the time of writing, the exact coordinates relative to the Flagship at the time of writing, as well as some background noise of little relevance to this current predicament. These numbers are duly inputted into one of your pre-created ‘equation’ sheets: linking abstracts together in their own relationships to receive a divinatory variable. It’s one of the few successes you’ve had with qualitative equations; linking energy and mass and speed is easy, but linking feeling together is not. 

In this case, tying down the exact time and coordinates to a specific intention. Any organic creature or ingenium leaves behind a trace of intention, whether it be through actual thoughts or a pre-programmed function. But in this case, the result comes out void. 

Thirty-two hours since verse was written. 

“How long did you say the man has been dead?” you ask, urgently. Moze snaps back to attention at the specific tone in your voice. 

“Forty hours,” he answers. When it comes down to the bloody aspects of this job, he returns to his laconic, reticent ways—it’s truly a shame he can’t keep it up in other aspects. 

“You’re sure about that,” you probe, half a question in your voice.

“It’s my job,” he deadpans, and you scowl as he uses your words against you. 

“Well, this verse appeared about eight hours after the man died,” you comment wonderingly. The strokes of the characters for grins once again appear a bit messier than the rest—almost like a map. Well, it’s not a deduction; your visor picks up on the strange wording right before you do. “Unlike the others that were written manually by a perpetrator.”

“So, this sacrificial lamb was finally the success,” he mutters darkly. 

“But the trail is no longer dead.” You sheathe your pistol back into its holster with a touch of relief, because finally this set of murders is coming to its conclusion.

⁺ 　 . ✦

You take back whatever compliments you had of him focusing on his job when it came down to it. As you pilot the star skiff along the trail of data outputted from your visor and the crude map from the bloody drawings, he’s practically talking your ear off about the garbled string of answers you sent him from your visor. 

“And what is beef’s relevance to this case?” he asks, each syllable drawn taut with what could only be mockery. 

“Typo,” you grit out, tilting the control wheel starboard. Now is not the time. 

“Egg, too?” he taunts. 

Your eyes flick to the top left of your visor, where you did in fact merge the contents of your grocery list with the file meant for him. 

“Use your common sense,” you bite on the inside of your cheek, hard, to prevent any insults from slipping past your lips. “You do still have that, right?”

“So what’s for dinner tonight?” He leans back against the co-pilot seat, and you can feel his gaze prick your face—much like you feel the tiny, irritating smile he wears. 

“I will crash this skiff if I have to, and you’ll have to explain to the General why the cryptologist exploded into itty-bitty pieces, Xiaoze,” you seethe. 

“Not if they don’t find your body,” he returns—far too accustomed to the patronising name for someone who blanched at its usage just an hour prior. Worst part is, he’d definitely make do on this vaguely-worded threat. 

“Madame General and A-hua would know it was you.” You propel the stern forward, if only to feel his hands grip the sides of his seat tighter. He courts death daily as an assassin, but wouldn’t it be a treat to die because of reckless driving. It��s not like you can entrust the programmed visor to him (and it’s not like you want to send the decoded map to the skiff). 

“Would they, though?” He pares away the dirt beneath his nails with his knife, and you hope the sudden jolt in the vehicle gave him an injury. 

“Jump.” A single syllable, gracing the space with your tender command. His brow raises minutely. 

“No one will miss you,” you add. 

“Since you’ve got no friends,” you tack on with an air of finality. 

⁺ 　 . ✦

He hates you. He hates you: hates the way your hands deftly turn the control wheel on the skiff; hates the way you trip and stumble through life, leaving countless messes behind yet still managing to have Feixiao’s approval to work with him; hates your facetious and conniving and sly insults. But most of all, he really fucking hates your plans. 

“This is so stupid,” he mutters in your ear; invisible to all but the tell tale outline on your shrunken visor. You’d reply, but you’re already conspicuous enough in the tailored suit you’ve donned—all sharp lines and a cut too bittersweet for your home planet. So actually, fuck that, then—there’s no point in being all Spy-like and Inconspicuous any longer. 

“Shut the fuck up,” you hiss, adjusting the cufflinks beneath the rich jacket—then subconsciously running a thumb along the edge of your fake identification card that’s pinned to your collar. Unlike that weirdo, you can’t turn invisible—so you’re left firing quanta bullets at the hull of this rig right outside Yaoqing airspace (or technically, space-space) and gleaning whatever information you can to assemble a persona for yourself. 

 <Doctor, Who is slightly Strange> how do I look < 1:34

The message pings to him from your visor, and you know he’s seen it—from the caustic sigh that leaves his lips, because if he ever blows his cover while he’s invisible, it will have been because of you.

< Weirdo > 1:34 > Focus on the damned mission.

Lukewarm, you scoff, brain sounding out your response. How… do… I… look, you type out once more.

1:35 > Terrible. 

Aggravated, you clench your fist, and you swear you can hear the space behind you warp and distort when he snickers. Terrible! What a joke, you seethe—jabbing the code into the airlock that you’d worked out by the little tones left on the verse, as well as reading the intentions left by people at this door. 

Your job is simple—getting to the bottom of these long-standing murders while also planting a bug on the ship that would allow the Seat of Divine Foresight of the Yaoqing to monitor the situation. Nothing more, but maybe something less if something went wrong. This was only a two-man operation, after all. 

Of course, you neither kept optimistic nor pessimistic. Though there were only two objectives,  those that underestimated the simplest missions oft suffered the brutal brunt of defeat. And of course, the former term being negotiable showed just how difficult it was. Or at least, if you managed to find the office of the higher ups, the data you stole would allow you to reconstruct the space virtually—though what you needed were concrete files that pointed to clear motives. 

No—not the office. 

You squinted as a rough plan of the building popped up from the continuous data you fed your visor—a general prediction of where the lab and computer room would be located, which were simulated as being in the same wing as the office. Perfect. 

<Weirdo> 1:40 > Done all your shopping already, or are you just tired of steak?

You grind your molars as you travel past the small throngs of borisin and humans alike: you don’t look entirely out of place as they’re dressed in a medley of different outfits, from IPC uniform replicas to Penacony garb to even the long robes found on Herta’s Space Station. Point is—your Earthwear doesn’t stand out, and there’s enough people that your badge does not go noticed. 

<Doctor, Who is slightly Strange> gonna shoot you how about that < 1:40

It takes the time of twenty-seven heartbeats to stride through the corridors (tunnels) that make their way around the aircraft. Twenty-seven heartbeats, three checkpoints and one smile shot at presumably a ‘coworker’—before you finally make it into the final stretch. He knows, though you don’t, because he’s counted: listening to the rhythmic beat of your organs as you calmly navigate the ship like you know what you’re doing. 

It’s devoid of souls, except for the two of you as you pad down the corridor. Even the very lab and big office seem abandoned—but Moze’s urgent text alerts you of the presence of someone in the office, just not the lab. 

Guess we’ll start there then. 

A quick swipe of your falsified keycard, and you were in—slipping on one of the freely available lab coats and extending your visor to cover your eyes at the entrance. You do respect lab etiquette, after all; erasing even your thoughts about food and drink as you press through the automatic glass doors. 

<Weirdo> 1:43 > You almost look like a scientist now.

You can hear his exhales—they’re so obviously deliberate, because no way would he blow his cover by accident. He’s snickering, that sod is. 

I am a scientific doctor, you senile fuckwad. < 1:44 

1:45 > Thought your default display name was just a joke. Did you hit your head and hallucinate some credentials?

You seethe, since you can’t exactly scroll through endless files to locate your dissertation on ancient science and qualitative formulae. Over sixty-thousand words, reduced to mere mockery by this cretin. 

It’s a triple entendre < 1:45 And I’ve got the creds < 1:45 prick < 1:45 

1:45 > moron

He types this lightning quick, not even pausing to stop walking—not even pausing to capitalise and punctuate his stupidly mocking text like normal—and you can still hear him because he’s letting you hear his normally silent steps, he’s letting you know he can fulfil the mission while shit talking you to your own face.

this is why you have no friends < 1:46

1:47 > this is why you don’t have friends outside your job. no one actually likes you

You rummage around in the large filing cabinet besides all the gleaming equipment: large centrifuges, safety cupboards, fume hoods, and weird display cases filled with samples of what can only be blood. Swiftly, you snap several photos of the evidence with your visor, then mindlessly write a response. Talk about a call coming from inside the house, you think. 

name two people who voluntarily spend time with you < 1:49 [<Doctor, Who is slightly Strange> sent index.finger.pointing emoji] < 1:49 [<Doctor, Who is slightly Strange> sent laughing.crying emoji] < 1:49

He’s no longer in the peripheries of your earshot; so you know he’s gone off to investigate the other areas of the small lab—beyond the equipment and into the computer room. Good, you exhale—at least he respects lab protocol. 

1:51 > name a time feixiao actually talked to you outside of work

I will…. lend you… my gun so… you can shoot…. yourself, you type, then quickly hit backspace before you can send it by accident. 

yesterday. eat shit xiaoze < 1:52

1:52 > that was charity work don’t flatter yourself

Hastily, you scan any files in the weird stronghold that look even remotely related to borisin and Foxians and especially the one you cradle: labelled only with the icon of a moon and containing eerily similar rituals to the crime scenes you found. 

oh you want to talk about charity work? lets ask the crowd bro < 1:55 everyone who interacts with you is doing charity work.. < 1:56

1:57 > ok at least my job wanted me

Wow. Wooow. You stare incredulously at the message—he’s dragging the Intelligenstia Guild into this, knowing you got put on leave for ‘engaging in querulous behaviour’ and ‘lacking in real life experience’. Low blow. 

…and no one else did so what now < 1:58 name a single friend you have < 1:58

1:58 > .. 1:59 > Jiaoqiu 

Jiaoqiu. How cute, you scoff, resuming your hate typing while you flick through the last few files hidden around in drawers and cupboards. 

idk how to tell you this but you are NOT the friend bro you’re the test subject… < 2:00 I think he pitied you or smth.. < 2:01

2:02 > ew 2:02 > don’t call me bro it’s sickening 2:02 > we are not alike

it’s exposure therapy < 2:03 since you don’t have any friends you don’t and probably never will be called anything endearing < 2:04 aren’t I so nice < 2:04

Pausing, you glance up at where the glass doors lead right to the computer lab; a dim glow washes over the space. Nothing much to worry about, you think—copying data is a far less burdensome task than rifling through pages upon pages of reports and then arranging them back into their rightful place. Though, if you were worried about anything, it was that the virus and bugger installation would take longer than they had to. 

Maybe it’s the paranoia getting to you. 

Or maybe, maybe, it’s the faint click of footsteps against linoleum floors—getting louder and louder and louder. As does your heartbeat: thundering deafeningly in your ears. You can’t turn invisible. You don’t get the luxury of slipping into the shadows like your colleague (to put it very politely) does. 

And so you swallow—tongue thick and leaden within your suddenly too-dry mouth. There are two courses of action you can take (hurry, the steps are getting louder): the first being to hide away in the little storage cupboard and take the escape from there. You will not be able to fool a scientist who knows their colleagues far more intimately than the grunts in the lobby. Moze has worked alone before. He’ll figure out how to get the virus downloaded and the data copied before the person even gets close to noticing him. 

Or—and your eyes flick to the computer room clearly visible from the lab—you could put on an act to save both your life and Moze’s time. You could… probably do that, right?

Heart moving renditions…. Never mind that your heart was pounding right out of your chest—never mind that your glassy sword could not be wielded in this narrow hallway, never mind that flipping the switch on your gun was not quite something you were prepared to do. 

They were almost at the corner, and you made your decision to step out into that narrow corridor. One hand in your pocket and the other raking across your face as you yawned. The epitome of casual. 

And Moze’s ears pricked as he watched you; though you’d never know, and he’d never admit that he did so. He heard the sound of sharp shoes, and was honestly expecting you to turn tail. 

But you didn’t. 

You’re taking lazy strides as he hears the researcher approach—counting on the secrecy of this organisation being tight enough to operate on a need-to-know basis. In other words, you’re operating on the high-risk gamble: that this particular person would be unaware of changes in personnel. There’s no time to read the data streaming from their steps. Ordinarily, from their intention you could figure out their rank in the pecking order—but you are plumb out of luck. 

He rounds the corner: wearing a suit far more well cut than yours, though his tie sits loose at his throat and his jacket is slung over one shoulder. From one glance, you can tell immediately. You’re screwed. Still, it’s too late to run now: far too late to leave Moze to figure out how to download the data faster. 

“Who are you?” The drawl is heavy with a cadence far too confident. Just your fucking luck, you momentarily scowl—of course the lab would be frequented by some clear higher-up. Not a regular degular scientist you could simply sweet talk, but someone not in the lower strata of this shady organisation.  

He’s handsome: black hair that sheens prussic, eyes glinting practically amber even in the frigid lighting that washes over this space. Something you’ve unfortunately learned while traversing the galaxy is that this guy cannot possibly be a grunt; and if he is, there’s something seriously wrong with the corporation. He’s eye candy—which makes this situation so terrible. You are screwed. In that moment, your lazy smile wavers somewhat; you are utterly and irredeemably fucked. You could shoot him, but that would no doubt put the rig on immediate lockdown with the sound of the gun. 

Fuck. You want to slam your head against the glass, but that would no doubt screw you over even further. 

You’re not built for this. 

“Oh, are you part of the research team too?” Naive. Your qualifications have just landed you this position, and you’re not quite capable of discerning if you should be divulging that information or not. That’s the mindset you centre this particular character around: just some random guy who’s a bit gullible. 

“Just got transferred,” you lie through your teeth, shamelessly. It’s a sin to lie, but you’ve committed bigger ones before. 

“No wonder I’ve never seen a cutie like you here before,” he murmurs—leaning in as though to inspect your face. And so, you freeze; naturally, this was not the direction you thought this conversation would take. Maybe sweet talking is not entirely off the table, but you sincerely doubt you’ll actually get away. 

You swallow. How much longer do you have to stall for? Is Moze done? What the fuck do you say next?

“Uh.” Thanks? I guess? You’re pretty cute too? You find your hand inching towards your holster—minutely, of course—while potential replies whirl through your mind chaotically. Miniature storms wrapped up in slimy brain matter and miniscule neuron connections. 

It’s only when he lets out a short laugh that you realise that you might’ve let out your thoughts, and you curse at yourself in your mind. 

“Wow, you’re bold,” he comments, closer: until you can almost taste the lingering iron and manufactured scent he has. Like wood. Earth pine. A bitter pang goes through your heart at that: someone from the surviving fallout of Earth, here of all places. In a clean, sterile lab dedicated to sacrificing Foxians—for what? Money? Stupid credits? Humans are rotten creatures, cut from a cloth macerated in cesspits. On Earth, it was no exception. 

Still. Your lips press into a line at his clothes, the particular way the tie is knotted. You’ve never seen another survivor prior to this. 

You may also be completely mistaken. Penacony and doubtless others have the same strands of fashion—but this. This is wholly Earth. 

“People do tell me that,” you return, unbuttoning your lab coat since you’re no longer in the lab boundaries. Moze, hurry the fuck up. You’re already regretting it, but you need to confirm it. Alien everywhere, what other choice do you have?

His eyes don’t widen like you expect, and you feel a stupid ache at the realisation that you’re once again alone. But rather, they flicker to your breast pocket, where your falsified keycard peeks out. Closer. His fingers pluck the plastic as though it were a flower, and you’re much too astounded to stop him. 

“What a shame…” he murmurs, and only the nails digging into your palm remind you fitfully of just how near he is—practically tasting the fucking lies on your breath. 

“Sir, back up a bit,” you grimace. This sucks. The perks of keeping the guy from witnessing the glow in the computer room is slowly fading away the longer you keep this up. Should’ve left Moze to get caught. 

“O strange doctor, do movies of the bygone era really interest you so?” 

You freeze. Shit. Shit. You’d let down your guard—attempting to gauge his reaction to your attire and getting caught out yourself. Really, was there any spy worse than yourself? The falsified card was hastily put together with the help of your visor; of course it autofilled that stupid alias. 

It’s not the first time your mistakes have cost you. 

“You…” This guy. You should’ve run. You suck at gambling. 

“How odd. I should’ve been aware of one like me being transferred.”

“Who the hell are you?” Cautiously, you take a minute step back. He notices—of course he does. 

“The head of the research department, who else?”  Fuck, fuck. Your heart is entering arrhythmia: pounding flush against your eardrums like some goddamn hammer against piercing nail. You’re dead meat. 

“It’s unfortunate that I can’t buy you a suit to replace that cheap one—if you hadn’t infiltrated, we might’ve been good friends.” He’s still putting up a front, but you can tell he’s close to a fight. It’s the snarling instinct of a cornered human—fight or flight activating almost immediately at every minute movement of his. Each shallowed breath, each minute shift in sinew. All of it. 

“No, definitely not,” you retort in disgust. “Most people from that planet sucked.”

It’s true, but your heart twinges blue just the same. Millions of years, all for that stupid molten iron planet to just cease. None but you—all alone amongst the cold, dead stars. 

It was a graveyard of the giants: hulking Jupiter, so wretched and broken; stars slowly winking out one by one. Even the massive silhouette of the Sun had finally been conquered. Had the universe ever been so lonely for the wandering?

“Even you?” And now his fists punctuate the empty space with his words. 

“Especially me.”

How foolish. How foolish, as he’s barely breathing on the floor beside you. How foolish, as you let your teeth grind in stupefied frustration. How foolish, that you wanted to communicate with a remnant from that obsolete planet. 

You’re an idiot as you clutch at your side: warmth seeping between your fingers as you prop yourself up against the wall. Shallow, heaving breaths come ragged—though the fight didn’t last even five minutes, courtesy of your visor working overtime to electrocute that fool by your feet. He looks fried, but you don’t look much better: being stabbed does that, after all. 

You don’t know what you’re doing here. 

What were you trying to accomplish?

Iron tastes especially caustic today. Ah, you realise with a start—this stupid endeavour was all to buy time. Maybe it was all pointless. Maybe you’ll slip into slumber here—tripping over the sleeping man at your feet and seeing your planet once more, if only in your dreams. 

The flicker of lights reminds you of your wretched childhood apartment. All concrete and dilapidated structure, but it was your home. A cruel and cold home—though it was also one where the sun touched the horizon just so, in a way that erased pain for a singular moment in time. 

Stupid. All this to fulfil your stupid mission. 

Your legs wobble, and you would’ve slammed right into the wall were it not for the cold arms wrapping around your ribcage—gelid hand splayed on your chest. 

“Idiot.” Moze’s voice is low and angry; practically shaking while he supports your body. He’s pressed right up against your side—making the smell of blood ever more pungent. Slippery, metallic copper—all coming from you and ruining that stupid suit for good. “Are you illiterate too?”

“Huh?” You don’t know why he’s upset; he got the job done, didn’t he? Maybe he’s mad he has to prop you up while navigating the dim tunnels of this building—his teeth are gritting, after all, even if you can’t see him. You can hear the molars grind together. 

“Are your eyes just for show, or do you occasionally read your messages?” he seethes. Your trembling heart is far too loud to register the final death rattles of the man left behind in the corridor—courtesy of a blade thrown right into his jugular. 

“Hah. Muted them to not read your irritating texts anymore.” You close your eyes as he guides you past the chemicals, past the cleaning supplies in the closet that leads to a hidden path outwards. He’s more… gentle than you would’ve expected; grip firm on your arm slung over his shoulders rather than constricting. 

“I didn’t need your help,” he informs you: tone boreal as ever. “You blew our cover.”

Still, you cannot see the furrow in his brows as he peers down at you; neither can you see his lips pressing together. His heart’s pounding weirdly: focused on you rather than leaving this stupid place far behind. 

“I didn’t do it for you—” you grit out, stumbling the last few steps to the concealed star skiff while alarms blare on the ship the two of you leave behind. And he’s grasping your waist as you lean against the rocking vehicle—but you were not going to fall. Blood seeps onto his clothing, though he pays the mess no heed for once. 

“Don’t need your help either,” you scoff, returning his words back to him as you lean against the worn seat. It’s cold. So cold, but you’d rather die than admit it hurts. “Get off me.”

“I’ll drive.” His rich voice finally has a body once more as he settles into his copilot seat. He can visualise the path back to the Yaoqing already—back to the messy, warm place you call home. Where you linger on all those stupid trinkets, the decorations you put up, and the food simmering in the pot on your stove—he knows the route like the back of his scarred hand. 

“I’m fine. It’s not that deep, and Jiaoqiu will take a look at it anyway.”  Jiaoqiu. His lips curl into a sneer as the dashboard lights up—flipping switches with such harsh precision it’s much too apparent that he’s in a terrible mood. 

“Or A-hua,” you add, and his heartbeat becomes something twisted and wretched as he hears the dimmed affection in your voice. You’re tying off the bandage tight around your side—very rudimentary first aid, but the priority is to get as far away as possible from this facility while their systems go down.

“Neither of them will be in when we report to Feixiao.” 

He doesn’t quite know why he lies: syllables rolling off his tongue like a blunder, yet he manages to keep his voice steady. 

“Then I’ll give myself stitches.” So damn stubborn, he thinks. He’s irritated, for reasons unclear to him. 

“No, this was because of me. I’ll treat you.” He doesn’t know why he insists either; one thing he knows for sure though, is that he can’t help but cling onto the scent of your embodiment. Blood and sweat, laundry powder and soap. You. It’s nothing like the damp of his cell. 

“No thanks. You’d probably—hah—use this opportunity to get rid of me,” you wince out. Well, he cants his head in thought—you’re not wrong. He might’ve left you behind: no regrets, no more dead weight. 

“You think so little of me?” 

“Yes. Why else would you come close?” On edge—that’s what he can hear in the tremulous pulse beneath the flesh, all torn and never at ease. It’s not fearful, precisely, but gone is the casual annoyance in your tone—it’s more of a void acceptance, as though you’re stating the obvious. 

To answer your question, he doesn’t know. He’d normally recoil at the sight of the dried blood on his clothes—scrubbing at his skin the moment he could—but he’s absent-mindedly pulling at the threads laved in you with a hand not preoccupied by steering. 

“Anyways. If you keep pushing it, you’ll be permanently dubbed that nickname you so hate.” 

“Don’t care.” He meets your eyes through the reflection of the glass window. One gaze—flinty and stubborn. The other pair of eyes—silent and unyielding. “I’m treating you before we report to Feixiao.”

“Little A-ze is all grown up now, huh,” you mutter, and the prefix you put in front of his name is cold and distant. It tastes quite bitter, and for that reason he doesn’t deign to speak for the rest of the flight. 

For once, he’s truly living up to his description of being reticent. 

⁺ 　 . ✦

“Why’d you do such a stupid move?” With each agonised beat of your heart, the needle jabs into one side of your flesh and extends past the other. This may have been taken as to mean he’s fast with your treatment—but your pulse is as sluggish as barely molten lava, burbling and gurgling like you’re on your last legs. “Look after yourself first.”

The towel he painstakingly placed on your couch is spattered with sanguine. Unfortunately, you’re a bit too lost in delirium to realise the gravity of this situation: Moze, kneeling by your side as he carefully stitches you back up. So delirious, you don’t notice his heavy gaze and scarred hands that reverently handle the tools that pierce your body. 

“A-ze,” you slur, half-conscious as you bring a scalding hand to press against his boreal face. He freezes, like he really is made of ice. But alas, your hand falls back to your side just as quickly and his expression settles back into a scowl. 

“I could’ve escaped,” you murmur, eyes heavy with slumber. “But then you would’ve been in trouble.”

I wouldn’t have been, he wants to say back. You and your idiotic plans. He’s thought it before and thinks it now—he really fucking hates them. 

“Don’t ever do that again,” he instead grits out, tying off the last stitch with the scissors with a clinical professionality that you’re quite astounded then. “Look after yourself, and I’ll do the same.”

“Shut up and get out then,” you retort—and he plucks the roll of bandages you were planning on winding around your side. You blink: taken aback once more. 

“No.” 

No? 

“Fuckface,” you comment bitterly, though there’s a certain decrease in volume as he winds his arms slowly around your torso to wrap the cloth around you. Like this, his silver tufts of hair brush past your chin—strangely clean smelling for an assassin. And when you rest your palms on his upper back to alleviate the tension in your side, you swear he freezes. 

“Idiot,” he slams back; though, there’s a certain rapidity to his pulse as your chest is right in his eyeline. It’s steady, rising and falling with each even breath you have: naked muscle just about grazing his nose. For the first time in ages, his fingers waver in his task. 

“Call Jiaoqiu then,” you shrug. He’s tucking the ends of the bandage into itself, so you miss how the faint flush on his face immediately fades. 

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. 

“Call who over?”

The foxian stands in the doorway with a pleased, close-eyed smile—much like the cat that finally got the cream. He’s grinning, Moze realises with horror; he saw the vulnerability in his shoulders, even if for a brief second.

Shit. He didn’t even notice. 

“Jiaoqiu?” You take your hand off his shoulder to wave; the man can no longer suppress the irritation in his expression. 

“In the flesh!” 

“Wow, you really don’t look good,” he continues, voice drawing closer as he inspects your bloodied torso. 

“Yeah, because I’m stuck with the fucker who lied about you not being—”

Moze presses his palm against your mouth—heart erratic at the feeling of soft lips against his hand, though it has nothing to do with you. More of the fact that he’s never been so close to someone like this. Yeah. That’s the reason. 

“Why are you here, Jiaoqiu?” he replies in your stead, ignoring how incredulously your gaze pierces into the side of his face. 

“So cold! You two are late to report even though you arrived half a system hour ago! But I totally understand, Moze.” Jiaoqiu’s smile does not quite reach his eyes as his gaze flitters between you and the assassin. That, perhaps, would be the usual description of how the foxian smiles regardless, but especially so today. “He’s injured, after all. Why not let me treat him before the two of you report to our Arbiter-General?”

“Pah–!” With a gasp, you finally wrench his hand from your mouth—glaring at him all the while. “That would be great, Jiaoqiu, thank you.”

Thus, the assassin is left simmering on the other side of your living room: daggers jabbing right into the other man’s back as he finishes your treatment off with a bowl of scorching hot broth. And though he doesn’t outright say it, Jiaoqiu is evidently amused by this turn of events—much like he’s amused with every irritated tell of Moze’s as he inches ever closer to you with his sly smile. 

Sorry, friend, he surmises. Not much of a chance you’ve got. 

It’s a great day for the fox, but not so much for the crow who seethes in the corner. 

⁺ 　 . ✦

[silvernyxchariot]

I can take him.

In a fight. And not in a fight. ( ͡°ω ͡°)

How my Genshin break and HSR binge is going:

This fight was easy. I'm a little sad I had to change up from my first team comp because I took out Ratio and Tingyun, but Harmony Trailblazer had to be added. This team still got the job done, just not as quickly. (Honestly, HSR is easy to play, but people just actively choose not to read. 😑 Or be patient. The hints, tips, and weaknesses are right there.) My Himeko and Serval were barely built during this fight too. Ma boi, Aventurine though✨; E1 with his signature light cone, ofc. . . Don't look at me like that; my Gepard would have been just as useful as the sustain if an Ice type was needed in this fight.

Funny enough though, I started playing HSR thinking I would be an Erudition main because I liked Serval so much, but Gepard came swinging in as my first 5 star like, "Yeah, no. My sister can't handle that kind of responsibility." So, I decided to become a "sustain main," though that probably doesn't exist in this fandom or they're just very rare, meaning if my "friends" need a Preservation or Abundance character to support, I have some ready on standby. Unlike the 10,000 DPS units out there. Build your DPS units right and you won't have so many problems, Susie! I'm working on Gallagher right now, but I made the mistake of raising my Equilibrium level today when my characters aren't ready. So, farming is taking longer than necessary. (My process is chara.level > light cone > relics > traces, because I forget traces exist most of the time💀)

Don't be mistaken, I do have damage dealers/DPS and other units built, i.e. Himeko, Dr. Ratio, Dest.Trailblazer, and even little Herta. But I've dedicated myself to the "You're not allowed to die without my permission" curse. My Bleach Brave Souls main is Seinosuke Yamada, a healer. I didn't even mean to have him as my best character.

For future teams, I want Jing Yuan and Robin. An upgraded Serval with FuA and the newest Harmony unit? Yes, please. If Sunday ever becomes playable, I'm definitely pulling for him though. I just added a new birb man to my harem. I can see him as the "opposite" of Robin. So, a Quantum or Imaginary element with the Nihility or Erudition path; I also went off of the vibes his Boss fight gave. On Sunday's note, I don't think becoming a Stellaron Hunter should be a part of his character development. No, I will not elaborate.

[kaibutsushidousha]

Thoughts on Rukia from Bleach?

Sorry, I really don't have much interesting to say about her writing. Her overly professional personality and the way her main relationships are structured are incredibly effective at making me not care. Let me explain this properly, starting with the personality issue.

The most outward character trait that Rukia shows in most of her interactions is that she's an overly professional individual. She's introduced bequeathing her power to Ichigo so she can get her duties done by a proxy, then she goes pestering the proxy to keep doing her duty, then when her superiors says she must die, she complies without resistance.

Before the Soul Society arc, Rukia exists narratively as the only Shinigami we know, and that is reflected hard in her characterization. She doesn't behave like herself, she behaves like the standard Shinigami operative should. Even outside of this scenario, since she was adopted by the Kuchiki, she's been behaving like the sister of a noble should, rather than as Rukia as an individual would. Renji's backstory shows Rukia at her natural, as the brave, active, and cheerful leader of the boys, and the crux of their drama is that Rukia turned quiet, passive, and cold after their separation.

There is a solid base to Rukia. She is not a motiveless person. Growing up one of the most violent areas of Rukongai and dealing with too many dead friends, she and Renji determined themselves to become Shinigami to make their home district a safer place. But we don't get to see any level of investment in this objective because the most defining trait of Rukia's personality is being overly professional to the point that she never challenges her duties even when they tell her to die. Her role is more important to her than her identity.

In the Quincy arc, she gains a power up from completely reworking her interpretation of her Shikai ability, and I think that's a great reflection of my problems with her character. The previous Sode no Shirayuki's ability was a collection of techniques labeled as dances because Kaien made waves by dancing with his trident. It's a reflection of the most cherished personal relationship Rukia built as a Shinigami, with extra meaning added by Kaien's beliefs that Rukia inherited his heart. And what replaced this bond-inspired ability was the powerful to make Rukia colder, which gives more power the more she willingly approaches death. Very impersonal, very soldier-like. The only sign of progress here is that her new power requires her remind herself that she doesn't want to die and take care that she doesn't do that.

Now the other part, her relationships. Rukia's main relationships are Ichigo, Renji, Byakuya, and Kaien. Rukia is the one who let Ichigo save his family once, introduced him to a new world, and then drove him to fight the world to spare her life. The companion who survived with Renji and became the unreachable star he fights to reach. The symbol of Byakuya's vows to Hisana and to his clan. These three roles make her an essential figure to flesh out the characters she interacts with, but without also fleshing her out in return. The delivery of their character moments is about what Rukia means to them, without her input mattering in any way. Byakuya and Renji are some of Bleach's best characters because of her, but she doesn't benefit in any way from this.

Kaien is the exception, the opposite. While Rukia serves as more of an accessory to everyone else's characters, Kaien is the one who is an accessory to Rukia. He's the warm figure that approached her at the peak of her loneliness, and what put Rukia the closest she's ever been to her personal emotions and her role as the model Shinigami coexisting organically. Her character is at its best when it's about him.

But overall, I really struggle to care when Rukia shows no interest in being Rukia instead of being the faceless model soldier. She and Ichigo saving each multiple times doesn't encourage Rukia to be her organic self, a version of herself Ichigo never got to meet. Understanding Byakuya and building the mutual trust they developed didn't free Rukia from her restraining noblewoman role. On the contrary, Byakuya is the guy praising the beauty of her heartless Bankai. Reattaching her bonds with Renji should be a healing experience since Renji is the only guy invested in allowing Rukia to be her original cheerful self, but it somehow doesn't. Rukia is okay with her frozen spirit and apparently so is Kubo. Here's hoping the anime expansions and Hell Arc can fix her, because it absolutely shouldn't be that difficult.

[nyalapeno]

I'm really not up to date on anything ever 🤣 so I only found out that a Blue Lock gacha game exists on Nagi's birthday, promptly downloaded it and was greeted with this:

Best beginning ever <3

For now there aren't that many characters, in the future I'm hoping to see more versions of Nagi, Reo and Zantetsu since they're my faves <3 rn we have those three, the entirety of team Z, Niko, Okawa, Barou, Wanima twins, Kira and Rin. Like 30+ versions. Later on it'll likely look more like Bleach Brave Souls with its 1700+ characters 😁

Anyway, as I seem to be taking a ton of screenshots I thought I might as well post some~

[bijectiveandinvertible]

😏😏 for the bleach ask (I hope I'm not sending to many) 2, 3, 4, 6, 9, 10, 15, and 16, if you could please?

Here are my answers... :D. thank you for sending me the ask...

2. Who is/are your least favorite character(s) and why?

I will name you my three least favorite characters….

Mayuri Kurotsuchi <- I disliked him strongly in the Soul Society Arc. But now I am more irritated at his constant insertion in the narrative (in the TYBW!) that cudgels other characters' panel time. 

Aizen <- I love to hate him! I will never forgive him for what he did to Momo… He is an incredible villain though just fantastic.

Ginjo Kugo <- He is my least fav of all of them but my most fav as a villain. I personally think he is the best villain in all of Bleach especially when you think of how human both him and Ichigo are.

3. Favorite minor character?

 I guess Yamada Hanataro. He is such a cutie-pie and so brave. He is terrified but so courageous.

4. Favorite zanpakuto?

Senbonzakura. Has a very concrete theme that matches her master, Byakuya Kuchiki perfectly + really good shikai and bankai.

9. Favorite captain?

Unohana

10. Favorite lieutenant?

Isane Kotetsu. What can I say I am a squad 4 stan :3c

15. Favorite arc and why?

This one’s difficult to say. All of the official arcs have good and bad moments (in term of writing)... Arguably I really love those very early chapters of bleach which truely focused on the theme of grief and survivors guilt. The entire substitute shinigami arc is top notch. I also love the Lust arc… its incredibly well done; the everything but the rain arc is also a favourite along with the Headless Star chapters.

16. Favorite movie and why?

The live action. I think the story adapts the overall manga well condensing it into a movie.

Please note answer 6 spoils the Bleach: TYBW Season 2 Ending.

6. Favorite bankai?

Shatatsu Karagara Shigarami no Tsuji <- Senjumaru’s bankai. IT'S A LOOM! As someone who appreciates fabric arts a lotttt and fabrics in general. It has to be Senjumaru.. 😀

[asa069]

TOP 10 Shuhei Characters (FEBRUARY 2024) Bleach: Brave Souls Best Units ...

[electronicwitchcollection]

Good morning, how are you? Recently I’ve been binge reading everything I’ve written. It’s so good 😊 I’ve been thinking about writing for a long time i just never had the confidence to do it. How did you start?m if you don’t mind sharing?

Good evening! Sorry it has taken me a while to reply, with Christmas around the corner it’s a little hectic around here 😂

Firstly, thank you for your support! I’m thrilled you’re enjoying what I’m writing 💜

For as long as I can remember I’ve always thought up little scenarios about characters I like, bleach is probably the one I’ve gone back to the most, which is why I’m most comfortable writing about bleach characters, I feel like I just get them, you know?

I’d basically day dream about full story lines and scenarios, which led me to believe others did to. This is how I discovered fan fiction all those years ago. I’ve spent years reading so many amazing stories about so many fictional characters, loved seeing the different takes on characters I love, see new relationships and storylines I’ve never thought of.

I had been thinking for a while to start writing, even just for myself to go back and look at, something tangible I could read and spoil myself with. So I started writing.

I shocked myself with how quickly I began to love it. The firsts few chapters I sometimes look back on, embarrassed with how poorly written it was 😂 the timing was off, I’d over describe one thing while skimming over another, but it’s mine, it’s a little piece of my heart and soul and I love it.

As time went on, I discovered my style of writing and it started to feel right. Like this is something I’m supposed to be doing. It’s strange, how therapeutic I find it. It’s an escape, although I’ve never written anything similar to my own past trauma/heartache, I found a healthy way to express myself when nothing else worked.

Going back to fan fiction, seeing so many others similar to myself, loving the work of others I just thought, “what the hell?” Maybe someone out there would enjoy what I’m writing. And I started to post it. I’ve never done it for recognition or praise, just simply offering what I’ve created to like minded people, hoping I could share even a small amount of the joy I’ve felt creating it, or reading others. Even just one person.

I’m aware some people on the internet are unkind, but thankfully I’ve not had any of that directed at me yet. I’ve had nothing but amazingly, heartwarming supportive comments, praises, discussions, with some of the sweetest, funniest people, and I’m so glad. I never would have spoken to some of these people if not for writing.

I’ve learned so much from other writers, been inspired by fans of the same fandoms I love. I feel incredibly blessed. Sometimes it’s hard. Writing isn’t as easy as I thought it was, the mental/emotional energy we use to create was shocking to me. Sometimes I’ll stare at my last sentence for hours, days, struggling with what to say, even though it’s already in my head.

Digging up your own emotions, your own past to accurately try to get across how a character is feeling can be exhausting, but it’s so worth it, especially when I get asks/comments like these. Thank you 💜

But it’s so rewarding. Sometimes I’ll get a comment like “this part really made me laugh” and that sets my heart alight honestly, because it’s me. I made them laugh, me, my mind, my sense of humour, it’s a beautiful confidence boost.

I’ve had requests, which I find harder than my own ideas, only because this person trusted me to bring their vision to life and I want to do my absolute best for them. Maybe I read to much into it, but when I get a request for a reader with scars, or over weight or anything, I think it’s a way for them to heal their own hearts over their insecurities. Because I do the same. What an honour that is. How brave, to reach out to a stranger, lay out your insecurities and ask for something that’ll mean something to them.

If you’ve been thinking of writing, do it, be brave. It’s worth it, even if it’s just for you, even if you never post it. If you love what you write, you’ll always have someone who loves your work. And that’s priceless. It’s fun, it’s soothing, it’s exciting. Do it, you won’t regret it.

[imperial--orthodoxy]

You know the drill:) :) :)

1-50 weird asks and GO

who is/are your comfort character(s)?

I don't know if "comfort" is the right word, but right now it's probably Ichigo Kurosaki from Bleach and...Boromir from LOTR. Ichigo is currently my favorite main character period and Boromir is....well. He's a deeply flawed character that tries and fails and tries again and manages to do good at the end of his life and I hope I'm able to do the same before I die.

lighter or matches?

I'm a certified pyromaniac, so the answer is yes. I prefer lighters for cigarettes and cigars though, whereas matches, I like launching them off of the lighter strip.

do you leave the window open at night?

Up north, open. Down here...closed. Permanently closed. I hate the weather down here.

which cryptyd being do you believe in? All of them. Skinwalkersmustdieskinwalkersmustdieskinwalkersmu

what color are your eyes?

Blue/Grey

why did you do that?

You think *I* know???

hair-ties or scrunchies?

...niether

how many water bottles are in your room right now? ....none

which do you prefer, hot coffee or cold coffee?

Hot tbh

would you slaughter the rich?

some of them

favorite extracurricular activity?

back in school it was band tbh and I can and should be bullied for it

what kind of day is it?

today was a long day at work unfortunately

when was the last time you ate?

just a couple of bars when I got home since it's a fasting day

do you love the smell of earth after it rains?

yes

are you a parent? (all answers qualify)

(sorta, not to term yet)

can you drive?

Yes, ignore my friends that say I drive like a maniac I am completely fine I am not an adrenaline junkie I am not -

are you farsighted or nearsighted?

near sighted

what hair products do you use?

whatever is on the shelf. I used to use old spice but I think it's been giving me a reaction lately

imagine we’re at a sleepover, would you paint my nails?

....I don't think you want me to do that

do you say soda or pop?

yes

something you’ve kept since childhood?

a lot of my books tbh. some of those are in uh...not great shape to my shame

what type of person are you?

I am a piece of shit

how do you feel about chilly weather?

winter supremacy or die

if we were together on a rooftop, what would we be doing?

sniping off politicians

Ideally if there's not a lot of light pollution I do love looking at stars

perfume/body spray or lotion?

spray, since I'm lazy

a scenario that you’ve replayed multiple times?

only all of them

about how many hours of sleep did you get?

Like....5?

do you wear a mask?

nyet

how do you like your shower water?

warm

is there dishes in your room?

no

what type of music keeps you grounded?

church hymns tbh

do you have a favorite towel?

nah

the last adventure you’ve been on?

Hmmmm....good question. The last big one was the honeymoon to Colorado

is there a song you know every word to by heart? They're all metallica songs but several

what’s your timezone?

Central US

how many times have you changed your url?

a stupid amount of times

someone in your life, other than a relative, you’ve known for 10+ years?

Not you yet, but all of my best friends from high school are still my friends now with 3 of them even being my groomsmen

a soap bar that smells good?

I...don't know actually lmao

do you use lip balm?

nyet

did you have any snacks today?

yes

how do you take your coffee?

depends - if it's typical shit coffee, cream and sugar. If it's good coffee, black

an app you frequently use besides this godforsaken site?

Bleach Brave Souls, does that count?

what’s your take on spicy foods? I love them

you get a free pass to kill anyone, who is it?

*REDACTED* nice try FBI

can you remember what happened yesterday? More or less!

favorite holiday film?

This is cheesy as fuck, but probably The Polar Express or Year Without a Santa Clause

what was the last message you sent?

I think it was me letting my coworker to let me know if I could do anything for him since his mother passed away

when did you first try an alcohol beverage?

Uhhhhhhhh....I think it was as a teenager from my Grandfather, or wine from my mother

can you skip rocks?

I can't, unfortunately. I ain't gonna lie, I'm kinda retarded

can i tag you in random stuff?

No you fuck - OF COURSE YOU CAN

ALSO YOU'RE LUCKY I LOVE YOU

[gear-project]

Annon-Guy: What sort of IP would you like to see Koei Tecmo make into a Warriors game?

There's been some licensed ones for Berserk and Attack on Titan. Even other companies did their own spin like Bandai Namco did for Bleach: Soul Resurrection and Tales of the Heroes: Twin Brave.

P.S. Which Guilty Gear and BlazBlue character would be your pick in an Arc Warriors game?

Dynasty Warriors (i.e. Musou) games have their own genre at this point, and several other IPs have taken to borrowing that hack'n'slash formula of gameplay (Sword Art Online being the most recent so I heard).

It's hard to really say what would make a good Musou game, Gundam was pretty popular a while back, Legend of Zelda had its fans too.

And don't forget about BlazBlue Entropy Effect, which is still releasing content!

I think Guilty Gear has its own plans moving forward, though a Musou style GG game would be interesting, we've already seen the potential of that in games like Guilty Gear Isuka's "Boost Mode" and Guilty Gear Judgment. Even Dust Strikers had its own take on the formula.

If there ever WAS a Dynasty Warriors Guilty Gear game... I think the best protagonist would be Kliff Undersn, since he fought legions of Gears back during the Crusades. His story has largely been untold.

[orca-iguana]

I think it's so funny that bleach brave souls for their most anticipated event to date. Made the star character fuckin gremmy who is in exactly 1 episode. Fucking peak lmao people are so upset except my friend who's favorite character is gremmy who is having the best time of his life.

[fvkvrodani]

see,, the side stories in bleach: brave souls are very bare bones & not that well written at all,, its just surface-level stories w barely even any engaging dialogue or anything like that... but its so fun to play as your favourite character & see them in these very specific scenarios that im willing to forgive the writers of bbs for the lack of polish given to these side stories.

like yes pls do tell me how hitsugaya toushiro had to spend his entire day looking for a gift for hinamori momo, his childhood friend & sister-figure!! or how hisagi shuuhei's crush on rangiku is so painfully obvious that he'd make a fool of himself just for her on white day!!!

its like... these stories are surface-level fics found in an official game for a major best-seller animanga.

[silvernyxchariot]

簡単には死なせはしない。¹

It's probably not a thing, but I am a ✨️Sustain main.✨️ You're not allowed to die without my permission.🔪

(Pardon my Japanese, if I phrased that first line wrong.) Aside, I find it funny how I circled back around to "maining" healers/shielders.¹ Like, I didn't ask for Gepard to be my first 5☆ or intentionally get attached to Aventurine and Lynx, but here we are.

Here, I thought I'd be a Destruction or Nihlity main with my ✨️depression✨️ and the beautiful HSR women. Xueyi👀👀👀👀👀

¹ Seinosuke Yamada, Bleach Brave Souls CFYOW, is or was my best character even when I didn't ask him to be. He says a line in his ulti that can translate to, "You're not dying on my watch." I prefer to say, "You're not allowed to die without my permission😊✨️," which you probably noticed. He's a healer but, truth be told, I always considered that line mildly sinister, like he enjoys playing God, because it felt like other characters described him as prideful or someone who looks down on others and keeps secrets.

This Abyss is Pyro and shield breaker check. Sadly, the only good Pyro unit I have is Bennett. 💀 As a not so meta player, I'm finally building the meta supports Xiangling, Fischl, and Sucrose after benching them for about 10 months. Bennett and Xingqiu are safe from my scrutiny 😗🧋 though.²

My Geo team is almost ready... kind of... It's a lot of artifact fodder to farm to feed my current sets. 🪦 🪦🪦🪦 As for Pyro, I want to build Thoma for burgeon and Diluc to bully the Fatui, but... I'm already spreading my resin too thin. So, I capped it at 5 characters, most of which are 95% done anyway.

² I am once again NOT asking or consenting to build "advice" or "help." My charactera are purposefully build to my satisfaction, not yours.

[smokeybrandreviews]

Brave New Worlds

The return of BLEACH was everything i wanted it to be. Thousand-Year Blood War exceeded every expectation i had for a modern take on one of my all-time favorite franchises. It helps that so far, this arc is as strong as the absolute masterpiece that was the Soul Society arc. I was thoroughly satisfied with every second of this first season, never once feeling letdown by the writing quality or animation pedigree. Studio Pierrot really put in the work, which is hilarious, because way back when BLEACH was a thing, that animation sucked ass. I don’t know if it was just early-Aughts syndrome but the content we have now, skews much, much, closer to the animation in the films, specifically Hell Verse, and i cannot wait for it to come back in a few months. It’s like I'm sixteen all over again, picking up that first chapter from a random scanlation site. Still, it’s a few months until July (optimistically) and i need something to sate this burning need for more BLEACH content. I landed on playing the mobile game, BLEACH: Brave Souls.

Now, if you’ve been around these parts, you know i don’t care for mobile games. I hate the gacha. I think it’s an objective scam. You also know i swear by Azur Lane and, up until my account was lost, Fate/Grand Order. I never went into these games with the intent to actually “play” them. I am a MASSIVE Nasu shill so FGO was a no-brainer and Prinz Eugen’s design stuck me as brilliant so i eventually played Lane. I’ve since fallen off of FGO because it’s awful but still support the franchise because of course i would and have made Azur Lane my time-waster of choice. Mostly because it’s actually good. I have actual fun with Lane, which is wild to say because the game play loop is bare-bones, at best. It takes a lot for me to actually commit to a gacha so i was a little reticent to jump into Brave Souls. Will this thing skew FGO and just be a constant stream of money-guzzling, auto plays? Or would it actually have some form on engagement, even if it is minuscule, like Azur Lane. Surprisingly, i found that this game is a weird combination of both.

BLEACH: Brave Souls is frustratingly adequate. It gets a lot of the same thing Azur Lane does, right, but leans heavy into the absolute worst aspects of FGO. The roster, immediately, needs to be recognized. If you’re a fan of the characters in BLEACH, Brave Souls got you covered. There are multiple versions f your favorites, each with a distinct move set and focus. Kind of. I have two versions of Tier Harribel and they are basically the exact same character, only one is a five star and the other a six. That’s it. There the same otherwise. My grail right now is a different version of Harribel, her Hogyoku-enhanced form, but i have no idea how t even make that happen. Tier is my favorite character and i can’t get a hold of her dopest version because this game is weird as f*ck that way, which is my biggest frustration with this game; The Gacha. Having all of those characters is an absolute detriment to pulling the ones you want. It’s insane how many different banners are available at any given time, none of which let’s you pull six star characters. As of right now, there is no path for me, as a new player to this game, to build a roster of natural six-star characters. I have to evolve them from five-stars, which is a problem in of itself.

You need stuff. Like, SO much stuff to make this happen. I’m talking gems, rings, scrolls, and whatever else. Farming in this game is insane and, considering there is a consumable system that burns every time you take on any mission, that sh*t gets expensive, quick. That mess is wildly frustrating. I mean, i was able to max out several characters because, as a new player, they give you a ton of sh*t but, at the same time, it goes so fast. Then there’s the endgame content. Like, there’s none. The entire game, so far, is available to you right now and one you’re done, you’re done. The game play loop, itself, is solid as f*ck. I like the presentation and the in-game models but, like, there’s only thirteen story chapters. That’s it. You can run back through on a Hard mode but as far as story content goes, that’s it. There’s no real replay value once you’re done. There are Challenges and co-op and things like that but, ultimately, the draw her is developing your roster but it’s like pulling eye teeth to gt the characters you want. I am over here just grinding sh*t out. That’s what this game basically is, a grind fest. I can deal with that but i don’t know if other, younger, people can. Is BLEACH: Brave Souls worth the effort? I would say so if you’re a BEACH fan. If not, give this one a pass. It’s more of a hassle than it is fun.

[smokeybrand]

Brave New Worlds

The return of BLEACH was everything i wanted it to be. Thousand-Year Blood War exceeded every expectation i had for a modern take on one of my all-time favorite franchises. It helps that so far, this arc is as strong as the absolute masterpiece that was the Soul Society arc. I was thoroughly satisfied with every second of this first season, never once feeling letdown by the writing quality or animation pedigree. Studio Pierrot really put in the work, which is hilarious, because way back when BLEACH was a thing, that animation sucked ass. I don’t know if it was just early-Aughts syndrome but the content we have now, skews much, much, closer to the animation in the films, specifically Hell Verse, and i cannot wait for it to come back in a few months. It’s like I'm sixteen all over again, picking up that first chapter from a random scanlation site. Still, it’s a few months until July (optimistically) and i need something to sate this burning need for more BLEACH content. I landed on playing the mobile game, BLEACH: Brave Souls.

Now, if you’ve been around these parts, you know i don’t care for mobile games. I hate the gacha. I think it’s an objective scam. You also know i swear by Azur Lane and, up until my account was lost, Fate/Grand Order. I never went into these games with the intent to actually “play” them. I am a MASSIVE Nasu shill so FGO was a no-brainer and Prinz Eugen’s design stuck me as brilliant so i eventually played Lane. I’ve since fallen off of FGO because it’s awful but still support the franchise because of course i would and have made Azur Lane my time-waster of choice. Mostly because it’s actually good. I have actual fun with Lane, which is wild to say because the game play loop is bare-bones, at best. It takes a lot for me to actually commit to a gacha so i was a little reticent to jump into Brave Souls. Will this thing skew FGO and just be a constant stream of money-guzzling, auto plays? Or would it actually have some form on engagement, even if it is minuscule, like Azur Lane. Surprisingly, i found that this game is a weird combination of both.

BLEACH: Brave Souls is frustratingly adequate. It gets a lot of the same thing Azur Lane does, right, but leans heavy into the absolute worst aspects of FGO. The roster, immediately, needs to be recognized. If you’re a fan of the characters in BLEACH, Brave Souls got you covered. There are multiple versions f your favorites, each with a distinct move set and focus. Kind of. I have two versions of Tier Harribel and they are basically the exact same character, only one is a five star and the other a six. That’s it. There the same otherwise. My grail right now is a different version of Harribel, her Hogyoku-enhanced form, but i have no idea how t even make that happen. Tier is my favorite character and i can’t get a hold of her dopest version because this game is weird as f*ck that way, which is my biggest frustration with this game; The Gacha. Having all of those characters is an absolute detriment to pulling the ones you want. It’s insane how many different banners are available at any given time, none of which let’s you pull six star characters. As of right now, there is no path for me, as a new player to this game, to build a roster of natural six-star characters. I have to evolve them from five-stars, which is a problem in of itself.

You need stuff. Like, SO much stuff to make this happen. I’m talking gems, rings, scrolls, and whatever else. Farming in this game is insane and, considering there is a consumable system that burns every time you take on any mission, that sh*t gets expensive, quick. That mess is wildly frustrating. I mean, i was able to max out several characters because, as a new player, they give you a ton of sh*t but, at the same time, it goes so fast. Then there’s the endgame content. Like, there’s none. The entire game, so far, is available to you right now and one you’re done, you’re done. The game play loop, itself, is solid as f*ck. I like the presentation and the in-game models but, like, there’s only thirteen story chapters. That’s it. You can run back through on a Hard mode but as far as story content goes, that’s it. There’s no real replay value once you’re done. There are Challenges and co-op and things like that but, ultimately, the draw her is developing your roster but it’s like pulling eye teeth to gt the characters you want. I am over here just grinding sh*t out. That’s what this game basically is, a grind fest. I can deal with that but i don’t know if other, younger, people can. Is BLEACH: Brave Souls worth the effort? I would say so if you’re a BEACH fan. If not, give this one a pass. It’s more of a hassle than it is fun.

[writerswhy]

Oh good, because there’s not enough aihina for me.

This is also one of my favorite scenes because we get a beautiful display of Hinamori’s cunning and kido prowess.

She definitely compliments Aizen. Where he’s all in your face, she works behind the scenes, weaving her traps before she launches an attack. I know people like to say the only reason she’s lieutenant is because Aizen hand-picked her but I believe she has an innate talent for kido (for creation, for change, like Aizen).

Like, this may all be me reaching and trying to warp canon to fit my headcanons, but I believe a part of Aizen feared something within Hinamori. Maybe it’s just coincidence but thinking back to “admiration is the furthest thing from understanding” and Aizen’s own conflicting heart - to choose godhood and stand-alone or integrate himself in a society ruled by a being he deems lesser, in a system that outright punishes any challenge to the order (like imprisoning people in the maggot’s nest) but have the access to connect with his fellow souls - maybe he felt that:

Hinamori could, if Aizen gave in enough, change the course of his plans

Whatever Hinamori aroused within him felt alive, too human, too common and that’s something Aizen needs to squash because she breathes into the emptiness he was born with (the emptiness he’s trying to run away from, surpass)

And Hinamori, we don’t get enough of her in canon or fanon (which is sad because she was a major player in the SS arc and she’s connected to the antagonist and BLEACH’s most popular character, Hitsugaya. This is her story!! 😤) but I wonder how she feels about Soul Society. We gets glimpses, and we know for sure she’s not someone who stands by and does what she’s ordered to (if she wants to break out of prison then she’s going to first sneakily employ some kido to knock out her guard and then blast through the wall. Why did she stay in her cell in the first place? Hm, it’s almost like Aizen knew Hinamori would need a push to come into her true nature, a nature he did his best to stifle lest she overcomes him). She’s also familiar enough with the sociopolitical environment because she knows better than to go to even her captain or best friend when she’s worried for Renji, so there’s some understanding there. She knows SS is just a little off. Why can’t she trust it?

I imagine Aizen picked up on this and, whatever his intention was with her in the beginning, as they grew closer he saw parts of himself in her. And hey, maybe he does have a reason to stay, to go about this another way, but then, when he’s alone or in the presence of his peers, he’s reminded how set apart he is from the others. So no, there is no other way. Hinamori has become a weakness and in true Nietzsche fashion, a challenge he has to overcome. His challenge, though. Because he’s possessive and Hinamori is his. The “true” Hinamori - the brave, young, intelligent, talented girl who feels before she sees SS for all it is. (But funny enough, a challenge he couldn’t let bloom, because as I said she could overcome him. He was the first to bear witness to her and wants to be the last.)

As a final tribute, he’s going to let her burn one last time. He wants to see, feel, know this great love he’s about to sacrifice.

Sigh. I just love how much Hinamori gets under Aizen’s skin. How alike these two are. How she’s something he desires. A connection, a bond, an attraction. (A weakness, human insipidity, a challenge.) Yet in his ongoing (and futile) path to (enlightenment) transcendence, he engenders a sea not even he, a god can cross. 

(But Hinamori can.) 

[polariswifi]

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