#HOLYBOWS. beeps my little clown nose. no graphic, cba. this is an independent, mutually exclusive, low spoons writing blog for ishida uryu of tite kuboโs bleach. please give this a like ( โก ) or a reblog ( โป ) if you would like to interact with me and my quincy boy. crossovers and ocs are always welcome. portrayed by eli, he / him, 29. minors, personals, and fanblogs dni.
rolling in like hi im eli ive been writing ryuuken for [checks watch] almost eight years and i disappear months at a time then reemerge equally without warning like jaws
first post after half a year of unannounced hiatus is … kinda sweet? give it a few days and i’ll remember what a frigid unlikable grump ryuuken is im sure lol
Heavy autumn winds rip the final leaves from the trees in the garden. The windows of the mansion rattle with unease. Byakuya enjoys such turbulent weather. The bed is warm. Warmer than usual, because he's not alone in it. "Stay until dawn." He tells his husband. [that one au.]
he stirred, breathing in deep and turning over under the warmth of the cover. only the finest silk and purest cotton in the kuchiki’s ancestral estate. but it wasn’t the futon and the stuffed duvet that really warded him against the cold.
‘ … the servants. they’ll be awake by then … ’ there was some irony in his concern, that if not for byakuya’s words, ryuuken might’ve let himself too easily to slip into comfortable unconsciousness until the morn.
he didn’t move to leave, however. instead reaching behind him to search for the swordsman’s hand under the blankets. once he found it, he laced their fingers together in the gap between their bodies – the little, physical sign that he didn’t, really, want to leave.
the wind howling outside gave him a different excuse to scoot in closer against the warmth of byakuya’s body.
‘ … just until sunrise. ’ ryuuken muttered, pulling byakuya’s arm over to wrap around his shoulders. he pulled byakuya’s hand toward his lips. his hand over byakuya’s hand, same as the day they met on the porch by the garden; he took byakuya’s hand first, yielded first, asked to be loved first. at that time, he thought that would be his life forever, grasping, scrapping for affection from the icy veins of the man known as kuchiki byakuya. but now …
a faint but meaningful smile rose to ryuuken’s lips. he pressed the curve to the back of byakuya’s hand.
been thinking about the apocalypse/apocalyptic stories a lot, and yes yhwach is pulsating in the background. which makes me think about how the quincy after yhwach’s first death have, in a sense, lived in a post-apocalyptic world. and the kind of culture, attitudes, art, society, and people it creates –
Philip Ball, Seeing Red; Archive for Research in Archetypal Symbolism, The Book of Symbols: Reflections on Archetypal Images;David M. Odorisio, Of Gods and Stones: Alchemy, Jung, and the Dark Night of St. John of the Cross; C.G. Jung, Collected Works of C.G. Jung, Volume 14: Mysterium Coniunctionis; Jo Hedesan, The Four Stages of Alchemical Work; Lyndy Abraham, A Dictionary of Alchemical Imagery.
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Independent Bleach! OC || 12th division 5th seat || Penned by Blue
![[ID: I didnโt know that when my mother died, her grave / would be dug in my body.]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/7d722b0166fb05a4767ef61e2b3d588a/14230ca85d680ccd-d7/s500x750/fc86dca354c6a178753a31e7d55e9e5e4993d6fc.jpg)
scnkei: 
