#Xcution

[distinguishedshoeduckdonut]

2004 vs 2024

[thebiggestwheel]

Bleach Chapter 53.5 - "Bad Blood Exhaust"

Jackie was always one of my favorite, underrated characters in Bleach and seeing how she is one of the few Fullbringers to never get a Volume Cover, I decided to make one myself. Nothing special here; just a simple edit with Manga panel, title and a volume name based on the chapter of the same name.

[blue-dream-rhapsody]

It occurs to me that when Kugo and Yukio have their confrontation

Yukio says that what he is trying to do will depend on what it is Kugo wants

At which point Aura appears and is all “You should join Lord Tokinada he’s looking to turn the world upside down too”

Kugo rejects this with really no waffling and of course prompts Tsukishima to try and take Yukio back with a bookmark, which seems like it would be the most predictable move he would make. And then we learn that quite literally the moment Aura approached Yukio it was with the explicit aim in mind of relaying what Tokinada and the Tsunayashiro family had done (in relation to Fullbringers) to Yukio in a way Tokinada couldn’t notice. Knowing, with Tsukishima as a conduit, it was very likely for that information to get passed to Kugo—and he would do only one fucking thing to Tokinada once he knew what he was responsible for.

I don’t know. Something about Aura naming the cult X-cution and while none of the members have any idea about this, there being this plan in mind that meant it would also be acting for Kugo in this way like an extension of Xcution. That it was with certainty named that with the express purpose of getting our Xcution’s attention. Aura’s primary goal is for sure to save Hikone by removing Tokinada, but even if Kugo on her side is just means to that end it’s still unquestionably in a way that saves him too.

[epraim1992]

Lille Barro's Godlike Power

In my opinion Lille Barro is the most interesting member of the Schutzstaffel.

He is the first Quincy that Yhwach granted a Schrift which makes him believe that he is Yhwach's greatest creation/masterpiece.

Despite not being part of the Soul King like the other members he had the powers of a god and led the Schutzstaffel or so it seems.

Lille Barro was quick to correct Oetsu when he stated that he gain an additional power when he was revived through Auswahlen but I think was a hint to why he is so powerful.

I have a theory that Lille Barro's original Schrift was A: The Axis. I think like Uryu he received the same letter as Yhwach.

While Uryu received it because he was Yhwach's successor, I think Lille Barro got it because Yhwach's Almighty was sealed by Ichibei so a replacement was needed.

I think Lille Barro's original power had to do with the optical axis. According to Wikipedia it's the "imaginary line that passes through the geometrical center of an optical system such as a camera lens, microscope or telescopic sight." Which fits with his sniper aesthetic. The emblem on his eye looks like a crosshair. His eyes and third eye lid in his second Vollständig form are reminiscent of camera lenses. I think it gave him a superior eyesight for sniping.

Letzt Stil has an ability similar to Sklaverei. I think similar to Quilge he used it to absorb a soul and that soul being a Fullbringer. I think when Lille Barro restored his powers his new power awakened changing his Schrift.

I don't know if X has any special mean to the Fullbringers but I think this a big clue to Lille Barro's connection to Fullbringers.

Fullbringers can manipulate the the soul in objects. It was explained all things in the world have souls.

I think this ability augmented Lille Barro's powers allowing him to penetrate all.

I think it explains why his Vollständig is so unique among the Sternritter and why he as a second form. Similar to Ichigo having two Zanpakuto Lille Barro has two sources of powers.

He had similar powers to Aizen and in Bleach one way to Godhood is the pouring of one soul into another to sublimate it.

[anime093se]

[aaamike]

Kinda happy to see Shukuro and Kugo again.

[loudestcloud]

Happy birthday, Riruka Dokugamine!

I don't usually like characters like her but she grew on me and is quite sweet!

[qin-qin16]

[Xcutioner, Cross x Dust, puppy love (from Cross), there is nudity but with no suggestive content (is all bones), there is something weird between them…]

"Y'know something? I think that all Dusty needs is a good bath!" Cross couldn't tell if Killer was just humming another one of his lame jokes or if it was an order disguised as casual conversation. "Why don't you help him out? Maybe he needs someone to lick his wounds clean."

Once again, his superior's face was adorned with a blank expression, an open grin and eyes so wide they looked like they might open up through his skull.

Killer didn't need to say anything else. Even though Cross' spine trembled as he swallowed a growl, all he did was follow his superior's advice, even though his shoulders tensed just hearing that half-choked chuckle — he knew Killer was laughing at his blind, obedient steps.

[...]

The anatomy of a skeleton was nothing new to Cross; not only were they all similar to each other, but it was even less surprising when everyone around him matches his bones and scars.

Still, despite what his mind tried to convince him, Cross couldn’t stop his little white dots skittering over Dust’s bones, the eyelights growing brighter with every piece of clothing that hit the floor. The only item neatly folded was his scarf, resting on top of the toilet lid.

Dust’s bones were pale, thin — maybe even malnourished — with dark stains scattered across his body. What were they? Cross didn’t know, and he didn’t have the intimacy (or the courage) to ask. But one thing was certain: the ash hiding in the cavities of his body didn’t come from cigarettes.

His bones gave a slight rattle as the silence between them broke. Along with the sound of crumpled clothes and bare feet slapping against the bathroom floor, Dust let out a low groan — so deep that Cross almost believed Dust’s soul itself had sighed. He was hunched over, hands trembling at the edge of his shorts. For moaning you make sounds, uh? Horror’s voice echoed in his mind, as scornful as the memory.

"Let me do it." The words slipped out before he could stop them, a violet flush spreading across his skull as those two glowing eyes shifted to meet his.

The light in his eyes was stronger than the flickering bathroom bulb, and Cross couldn’t help but swallow hard — the silence between them heavier than before, making Cross’s thoughts grow louder. He shouldn’t have said something so stupid! All he had to do was keep an eye on Dust so he wouldn’t screw up like last time!

Before Cross could get lost again in a whirlwind of doubts, the sound of bones scraping against the floor snapped his attention back. Dust was facing him now, his ribs marked with those same dark, mysterious patches — the darkest ones at the center of his sternum, near where his soul should be.

Cross swallowed hard as his gaze rose once more, locking onto Dust’s serene and unreadable stare. Those eyes, always so aggressive and violent — a sea of turquoise blood — now held an unexpected calm. His face, clear of any shadow, was laid bare for the soldier’s trembling eyes.

And as countless thoughts raced through Cross's mind, voices clashing with each other — some screaming for him to just turn around and go back to his room, others pleading that he had to help—

"Sit." The harsh command cut through all of Cross's thoughts, and without hesitation, he obeyed, just before Dust clicked his tongue in disappointment.

His knees hit the carpet with a soft bump; the tips of his fingers gently brushed the fabric of Dust’ shorts, feeling it damp, sticky, stained with both magical and human blood. Still uncertain, Cross glanced at the other’s face one last time, searching for any sign, any instruction, anything.

But all Cross found was a smile full of disdain, a malicious gleam in Dust’s eyes as his hands stayed far from his own shorts — waiting for Cross to do the work. His fingers slid to Dust’s hips before the tips of his fingers finally began to pull the shorts down slowly, as if afraid that any more forceful movement might make Dust collapse.

With one more gentle pull, his hands dropped along with the garment to the floor. There was no surprise, only paler bones and a thin pelvis, dark stains marking his femurs just like the rest of his skeleton.

Even though there was no flesh in front of him, Cross couldn’t help but lower his gaze, his hands instinctively resting on his knees.

"Well... the bathtub should be good by now, I think…” He murmured after a moment, his bone cheeks flushed with a faint lavender tint.

However, his eyelights dilated as his attention snapped back to Dust, his skull being gently fondled by a bare hand — a heavy, slow touch, sliding down to his neck beneath the shirt’s collar.

"Good boy, you can go now." Cross was already standing before Dust had even finished speaking, almost tripping over the folds of the rug as he rushed through the door — slamming it shut behind him, the loud “bam!” echoing through the suite.

His final memory was Dust's laughter on the other side, muffled and hoarse — taking pleasure in his nervousness and bones tinged with purple.

@what-have-i-unleashed (bc your muse is here) and @ciphmoomew since you want to read it :3c

[what-have-i-unleashed]

your hand-grenade heart

gift for lovely moot @qin-qin16. happy early birthday!! (better early than late lol) hope you don't mind lovers-to-enemies (... or is it) crossdust :3

2k+ words of sadness. no warnings applied... i think.

cross isn't sure what part of the multiverse he has stumbled into. it was a stupid decision he made on the fly, opening his own portal inside of nightmare's own to prevent the guardian of negativity from dragging him back to the hell he knows nightmare would love to put him through again. the sudden time-space disruption caused a small implosion to happen, flinging cross across the dimensional stream until he landed face-first into the hard surface of lava-surrounded rocks.

and now, he's here in this barren universe, this empty underground, walking all the way to the lab to figure out where he is. the dead silence is messing with him quite a bit - an unfortunate aftereffect after living in a white space with virtually no one else (apart from xchara) for who knows how long. he takes a deep breath in and marches forward, resolutely ignoring the deluge of frantic thoughts starting to bubble up in his mind.

when he finally arrives at his destination, the first thing he does is checking the security footage on the computer in the lab, which dates back at least two years as he can see. he skims through the footage - no soul pops up on the monitor at all. this place has been dead for a long time, which is... unsettling. is this a pacifist timeline where monsterkind has all moved to the surface? or is this a failed genocide timeline that the human refused to properly delete for some reason? either way, he has to get out of here as fast as possible.

the thing is, his multiverse travel token has been broken since his fall into this universe. without xchara's powers, cross is essentially out of luck. he doesn't think he's knowledgeable enough about the mechanics behind travel tokens to fix his own.

which means he's basically a sitting duck for anyone coming across him right now. nightmare will find him before dream can, judging by how hard cross is sweating right now.

happy thoughts, cross! he thinks to himself. happy thoughts!

easier said than done, honestly. being stuck in an angel-damned universe with no obvious dimensional travel technology is a terrible situation.

... wait. he just remembers something. killer and dust often commented on how the machine in the basement under the snowdin's house is probably designed for time-space shenanigans. it might be broken, as it is usually is in most universes, but maybe its magic signature is similar enough to that of a travel token for him to charge the token up again.

it is a farfetched idea, but he has to try regardless.

his trip to snowdin is less nerve-wracking than he thought. there's something both soothing and frightening about the white snowy landscape. there's a familiar scent in the air, an electrifying taste in the snowfall that makes cross stop in his tracks.

... it can't be, right?

cross opens the door to the house at the end of snowdin, and-

-and dust greeted him with a tired mumble from the couch. cross grinned and stole a quick peck on dust's forehead, making the hooded skeleton blink in surprise at him.

"rough day?" cross asked, to which dust nodded, quieter than he usually was. an especially tough day then.

cross hummed, joining his boyfriend on the couch. he snuggled into dust's slightly larger frame, and dust made a half-indignant half-pleased purr in his throat. cross purred back, stretching himself so that his cheek was pressed on dust's collarbones. he saw, from the corner of his eyes, dust clenching and unclenching his hands by his sides, as if he was conflicted on whether to hold cross in his arms or not. dust's body was cold, but cross didn't mind that. he waited for his body heat to gradually trickle to dust, his layered uniform keeping him warm enough in this forever-snowy weather.

as time went by, dust hesitantly wrapped his arms around cross and pulled him closer. both of them stayed there on the couch, indulging in each other's closeness. cross let out a satisfied rattle deep inside his bones. he wished this idyllic scene could go on forever and ever and-

-and he feels like he has been blasted back to the past. the couch is still the same, or maybe it has gotten even dustier. it doesn't surprise him - he was the tidier between them two after all. what surprises him is that the house is not destroyed. everything is the same as it was, as if stuck in time, a photograph of a memory left untouched in a house of still lingering ghosts. cross traces his hands on the coffee table. his hand picks up a fine layer of dust.

his feet lead him to the kitchen next, where he sees the first sign of difference: a bunch of wine bottles discarded on the floor that no one has bothered to clean up. the fridge is not closed, emitting another breeze of coldness into the atmosphere. cross sits at the dining table, as if he's in a trance, as if he's dreaming. it's been so long, and yet everything is the same.

he doesn't know what to think. he doesn't know what to feel. he puts his shaky hands on the table and-

-and waited for dust to put his plate on the table. it was a bit embarrassing, being shooed off the kitchen because he didn't know how to cook anything else but soldier rations. dust was kind enough to ban him to the dining table and order him to stay still so he could fix the surprise, now fire hazard, that cross had intended for his boyfriend.

when dust placed the dish in front of cross, the soldier didn't know what to do but hang his head in shame. dust took the seat across from him and started eating.

"dig in," dust told him, and cross reluctantly picked up his spoon and slowly ate through it.

"uhm, look..." cross stammered, embarrassed. "i'm sorry about the fire. i didn't know the stove would do that..."

"it's fine," dust said, flippantly. "it wasn't a big fire anyway."

"yeah, but still..."

"i think it's quite cute of you to try to cook a surprise meal for me, cross," dust interrupted what cross had to say, and cross flushed.

"oh! uh..." cross scratched his head, laughing nervously. "it's our one-year anniversary. i just wanted to make you something nice..."

dust looked at him, a smile in his white eyelights. "like i said, it's cute. i appreciate it." he looked down at his plate. "no one has given me a nice gift in a long time."

cross felt his face get even hotter. he placed his spoon on the table, ready to say the words he'd been putting off for a while, and-

-and he resists the urge to flip it. is it anger singing in his veins, or frustration? or something else? he can't tell. all the memories here are suffocating in its sweetness, as if taunting him with a past that is no more.

it's dangerous to feel this way towards an enemy. it's his job now to protect other people from nightmare and his gang. penance for what he has done.

and yet, he can't help walking up the stairs. he can't help opening the door to their bedroom. he can't help staring at the untouched state of it. his - or more like dust's now - little plushies are still on his corner of the bed they have picked and put in the room. his shelf of comics are still there next to dust's shelf full of fiction novels. the crudely molded little ceramic rabbit he has made for dust still sits on the table, facing the window. everything is the same as it was. the same as the day he left dust behind.

*creaaak*

he doesn't know how long he has stood there at the doorway, but when he hears a click at the front door, his panic skyrockets. he quickly dashes inside the closet (where he briefly finds his monochrome clothes are still there) and holds his breath as he hears creaking footsteps coming upstairs and into the room.

peeking through the gap of the doors, he sees him. dust. his ex-lover. sitting silently on the bed, unmoving, staring outside of the window with his dull white eyelights. it's usually unsettling to see a silent dust on the battlefield, but in the domestic atmosphere of the house, dust's silence reads more as melancholic than dangerous. cross hasn't seen him like this in a long time. so still. so tranquil. so... pitiful. gone is the ferocious cannon of nightmare - what's left here is a broken vestige of a lonely being, trapping himself inside a house stuck in the past. he looks unhealthy, as if one breeze can take him down easily.

cross moves to see his former flame better, but then he accidentally steps on a coat hanger. a loud sound echoes in the silent space. and the figure on the bed twitches.

"who's there?" a murmur comes out of the hooded skeleton. cross doesn't dare breathe. dust continues, "come on. i know you're there. show your face."

cross doesn't obey. he stays still in the closet as dust walks around the place, his voice gradually getting louder.

"killer, i swear to asgore's beard, if i found you in here... i told you to get the fuck out of this universe!" a little mutter. "... yeah, yeah, you're right, paps. killer doesn't disobey nightmare, does he? must be someone else..."

cross can hear his soul beating frantically. dust walks back into the room, looking around and continuing to mumble to himself.

"might be that prissy error... though he wouldn't be stupid to destroy this universe... but that freak is crazy..."

dust swivels his head to the closet that cross is hiding in, his eyes a blazing red and blue. in a soul-stopping second, cross doesn't care that he doesn't know this place well enough anymore to do a shortcut, but he does anyway, teleporting himself to the middle of the living room. he stumbles upon crashing on the coffee table, and runs out of the front door once he hears the loud demented cackle from dust.

"i knew you're there!" he hears dust shout in delight.

cross runs and runs, uncaring of his injuries. his mind is a jumbled mess and his shallow breath is fogging up his already blurred vision.

he's gonna kill me, his inner voice yells at him. he's gonna kill me for sure. he never forgives me.

a bone attack sprouts from the ground and punctures his leg. with a pained yelp, cross collapses just as a heavy weight appears on top of him, one hand holding on his sternum.

"you fucking rat, i caught you!" he hears dust crow. "you think you can run from m-" the voice suddenly stops. "... cross?"

the grip on his sternum momentarily falters, and cross doesn't hesitate jabbing his smaller daggers right at dust's stunned face. the hooded skeleton falls back, and cross grabbed at dust's travel token, which he always keeps under his shirt, and yanks.

cross kicks at dust, hard, and wobbles on his feet again and runs. as if awaken from a nap, dust shouts, "wait! cross, wait!"

cross doesn't listen. he tries to keep as much distance as possible from dust, haphazardly teleporting through the snowy forest, all the while calibrating the co-ordinations of the token. his pain is at the back of his mind as he forces his body to power through the adrenaline.

"darling, please! don't run away!"

cross punches the co-ordinations he wants to go and pours his magic into the token. he sees it light up and breathes out a sigh of relief.

"cross!" he looks back and sees dust a few feet from him. "cross, i-"

he doesn't hear the next words coming out of dust's mouth. light envelops him as his body fractures into tiny particles traveling through the in-between of the multiverse. the last thing his eyes see before disappearing is the strange emotion on the face of his ex-lover, frozen in an anguished expression with red tears running down his cheeks. it doesn't look like dust at all.

huh. what a silly mirage he encounters.

dividers here by @\cafekitsune

[x-mensirens]

[xmencovered]

Uncanny X-Men #295 / Published: October 1992 / Artist: Brandon Peterson

[distinguishedshoeduckdonut]

◤￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣◥

　 𝟐𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐊𝐄𝐘 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋

◣＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿◢

歴代の強敵たちと一護の戦いの

軌跡を描いた、アニメ20周年を

飾るスペシャルビジュアル──

✦20th公式サイトリニューアル

[mashedpea]

"I did it for only two reasons. I did it because I hate you all. And I did it, ultimately, because I hate myself..."

[troius]

The Kids in the Room

The Fullbringer Arc is tighter and more coherent than anything in the manga so far, telling a very straightforward story about a young person’s alienation from the world he lives in. It has very specific things to say about the role of parents, mentors, and friends in the process of a kid becoming an adult and does a pretty decent job of looking at how different organizations (the state, gangs) can play into that young person’s life. And then, at the climax of the story, it very intentionally takes all that hard work, and for what I must assume were business reasons, tosses it all away.

The Arrancar Arc was a glorious, grandiose mess. It featured no fewer than three separate worlds, four distinct factions, and probably around twenty characters with active character arcs. Although it started off with the truly breathtaking ambition of weaving all of this together, by the end Kubo had cut a considerable amount of the subplots in favor of actually getting to the end of the story he was telling. And it still mostly worked! Ichigo’s character arc, at least, ended where I think it was always going to: sacrificing his nigh-unlimited power after understanding the price of that power.

But of course, giving up all of your powers isn’t really a long-term solution for Ichigo, just like it isn’t for any of us in life. Ruling over three worlds might tend to corrupt a person, but we all want—and need—to feel like we have some power over our own lives. Ichigo, in his final year of high school, living on the precipice of adulthood, feels this in more than one way. He had this power. He sacrificed it. And yet now, he’d do anything to get it back. Anything except ask for help.

You see, asking for help is hard, but especially in the context of “seeking power”, which in this story is an even less veiled metaphor for “growing up” than it usually is in shonen manga. Asking for help means admitting both weakness (you don’t have the power to get what you want right now) and discontentment (there is something you want that you don’t have). For Ichigo, whose primary method of coping with his mother’s death was asserting a premature independence, this would be difficult even if the thing he was seeking wasn’t something he had very publicly given up in front of his friends and family. Yes, there are times when he doesn’t want to involve them to protect them, but a big part of his self-imposed isolation is his own ego, his unwillingness to reveal to people who love him just how miserable he is, out of fear that it will reveal him to be somebody they won’t love anymore.

And that’s where the Fullbringers come in. Ginjo puts in a tremendous amount of work into getting close to Ichigo—lying to him, giving him little bits of information piecemeal without telling him the whole thing, and of course, offering him power that Ichigo desperately wants. But none of it would be possible if Ichigo didn’t have this preexisting desire to do it all himself, or at least to appear to his friends and family like he’s doing it himself. Ginjo does what nobody else in Ichigo’s life does—offers him assistance without making him ask for it. Hook, line, sinker.

The body of the arc covers this masterclass in manipulation from Ginjo, and it’s a huge change from what has, up until this point, been a very standard shonen battle manga in terms of content, where the fights happen on a more or less weekly basis. Here, it takes over half the arc for Ichigo to fight anybody! It’s all character development, even for the side characters like Orihime and Chad, who don’t get fights of their own but do get to express themselves and show initiative in ways they were largely denied in the previous arc. It’s all a long, slow burn to the climax, where Tsukishima suddenly strips away the support system that Ichigo had so undervalued, leaving him defenseless against Ginjo’s theft of his power.

And that’s my big frustration with the climax. It’s not that I like the Karakura kids more than I like the Soul Reapers, although I very well might. It’s that so much work has been put into drawing out and developing these relationships, so much effort put into showing how this is affecting all of them. And it’s not just metatextual effort either—yes, we spend a lot of pagetime with Chad and Orihime and Uryu, but Xcution also targets them all because of their importance to Ichigo! The very story itself recognizes that they’re the support system that Ichigo needs to be an emotionally healthy adult! Any logical resolution must therefore involve them!

But it doesn’t. Instead, it’s the Soul Reapers, who have not been physically or even narratively present at all for four volumes, who come in and repower Ichigo. They’re the ones who pair up for the fights against Xcution, fights that are very light on the sort of character work that is so characteristic of Bleach fights because there just isn’t the grounding for it! Even the fights that show character are mostly showing development that seemingly occurred off-panel, leaving you wondering when exactly Toshiro and Ikkaku achieved their newfound maturity. But the supporting characters from the bulk of the arc are written out, and even the personal feelings of Shigekuni Genryusai Yamamoto wind up being more important to the narrative.

This isn’t just unsatisfactory on the level of the supporting characters, it also fatally undercuts Ichigo’s own development. We expect the story to end with him overcoming the challenge set in front of him, which at the beginning is clearly his alienation from the people he loves. But he doesn’t really do that—instead, the Soul Reapers showing up is what solves his problems, which suggests that the actual problem in his life is just “they weren’t around”. I don’t think that’s actually what we’re meant to take away here, and the narrative doesn’t seem to think so either, which is why we end with the character development being passed on to Soul Society instead. They learn something in this arc, which is to trust Ichigo. But he doesn’t seem to have learned a damn thing.

And that’s what frustrates me so much about this arc: the lost potential, the fact that there was a very obvious story being told that was abruptly discarded, right at the moment it mattered most. There was probably no way Kubo could have fulfilled all the potential of the Arrancar Arc: there were just to many characters, too many storylines. But here, he condensed his writing, narrowed his scope, and still told a compelling story up until he suddenly threw it all away. Whatever the reason for it-- and I have no insight into the editing or business pressures that might have motivated a climax so different from that the story was obviously building to-- it’s disappointing.

[marvelman901]

Generation X vol 1 16 (1996)

Out Of Sync!

Written by Scott Lobdell and Todd DeZago

Penciled by Tom Grummett

Inked by Al Milgrom

Colors by Steve Buccellato

Lettered by Richard Starkings and Comicraft

Edited by Bob Harras

Cover by Joe Madureira

Synch had been corrupted by Emplate and it was up to Generation X to help him...

[unohanadaydreams]

Wait i havent read the novel what does it say for explaining about kugo in that scene?

Basically, he had a group of Fullbring friends before the story proper and they were all killed by a shinigami assassin after Ukitake gave him a substitute badge (that was spying him), so obviously he came to the conclusion that Ukitake killed his friends and tried to kill him.

Of course, as Seireitei does, they made him a wanted criminal for not presenting his neck and dying like a dog.

It wasn't Ukitake who ordered the hit, but the novel's villain. However, still a fucking shinigami! So it's not like he was super off! Like wow, I wonder who sent a SHINIGAMI assassin? A quincy?

I think if Ginjo had said 'I think they're going to do to you what they did to me, so watch out', there would have been a way better outcome for Ginjo and the entire Xcution group. But Ginjo is simply not able to do that. He is incapable of opening up to people. He is the cautionary tale for Ichigo.

So instead Ginjo says with his actions 'I think they're going to do to you what they did to me, so I'm going to steal the friends you can't protect & the powers you can't wield anymore & use them to kill Ukitake, which by the way you should also want to do you fucking moron piss baby idiot'.

And he takes that really good reason for not trusting the shinigami to the grave like. What a specimen. I love him tbh.