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[soulst1c3]

returnofaion​:

Only exhaustion keeps Tsukishima from feeling any of the emotions that want to bubble up as his foggy mind pieces reality back together. The peace of knowing he’d be reunited with Ginjo in Soul Society drains away like cold water, leaving only numb grief and a blooming resentment. That this Soul Reaper in particular is responsible is only one more thorn to the mix.

Ginjo let himself fall under Book of the End more than once, and Tsukishima knew all he needed to about Soul Society and it’s duplicity.

Tsukishima blinks blearily up at the washed out looking Captain, fingers flexing in the bedding the only real sign of the inner turmoil. His eyelids and limbs are still too heavy, but he tries to turn his head to escape the shimmering white. There’s not much to see in the room, but it’s obvious this isn’t a prison.

That just makes this more confusing. Why was I saved? Why is this captain here? 

His eyes close again, but the threat of Jūshirō, really any Soul Reaper standing over him, has Tsukishima reopening them to blink at the ceiling.

“Why,” he finally manages to rasp, clearing his throat. But he frowns and closes his eyes again, trying to piece together more coherent thought. That question isn’t quite right. There’s plenty he wants to know, plenty of accusations he wishes he could voice. But now isn’t the time, dependent as he.

And there’s a question that slips into the back of his brain. Should I even try to recover? Ginjo is in Soul Society… alone. But that isn’t right either. Would Ginjo want him to follow? Or should he stay and re-establish Xcution here? 

He shakes his head a bit to clear the circling thoughts going nowhere, eyes still closed, and clenches his jaw at the spinning vertigo that produces. 

When things settle, he meets Jūshirō’s gaze again. “The.. others?” 

Fingers move; the young man is agitated, all too clearly. Jūshirō’s heart feels tugged, thanks to some coarse combination of empathy and guilt. I’m sorry,  Jūshirō wants to say. I’m sorry for the way this turned out. I’m sorry that my part in it caused you such pain. I’m sorry that you started down this path when you were so young, so impressionable.

I’m sorry that neither I, nor anyone I trust, was able to help you earlier. 

A single word follows. There’s more behind it than what the young man can speak, and Jūshirō hates to fill in gaps with assumptions. The young man is struggling, and Jūshirō wishes more than anything that he had the gift of mind-reading or exceptional insight, because he so desperately wants the young man to know relief. 

In the end, the young man seems to abandon his question, and Jūshirō’s heart feels tugged again. 

“...because that’s how things turned out,” he answers softly. It isn’t a comfort, and Jūshirō knows it - but it’s better than leaving the first instincts of a wounded man unspoken for. 

The young man seems to grapple again. He seems disoriented, and nauseous, perhaps. It makes sense. He’s lost blood. He’s been stitched together again from the inside out. In an effort to alleviate any pain, he’s been given drips, drugs, slow mercies. Jūshirō dislikes such practices, but he had little say in that part. 

A concrete question. Jūshirō winces; he can’t help it. 

“They’ve... gone their separate ways,” Jūshirō settles for in the end. “Most of them didn’t leave this place unsatisfied, I think.” 

Lies of omission are still lies, comes an insidious thought in Jūshirō’s brain. 

Guilt prods Jūshirō onward. He wishes, not for the first time, that he could let sleeping dogs lie - As it were, he thinks grimly - but such things have never been his strong suit. 

“Are you - ”  Jūshirō begins, before correcting himself. “Or, rather - who are you the most concerned about, Tsukishima-san? You’ll recover. I’m certain of it. I’m sure that’s what your friends would have wanted, isn’t it?”

[soulst1c3]

Jūshirō knows how his friend walks when he's weary, when he's wounded.

He'd intended to meet Shunsui here at the end of a long day regardless - he'd thought, perhaps, that they might share dinner, or a cup or two of sake - but when he sees his friend's gait, and the curve of his shoulders, and when he hears the telltale tone of his voice - Brushing his own needs aside, as always, isn't he? - Jūshirō understands the truth.

"Nonsense," Jūshirō says, approaching, and slipping an arm discretely about Shunsui's waist, giving his friend room to lean on his shoulder, should he wish to. "It's late enough, and no one can see. Let's get you home, hm? And then, you can tell me what really happened.”

@soulst1c3

starter “Here, lean on me. I’ll support you."

The mission had been more tiring and grueling than Shunsui had wanted to admit. As a Captain he shouldn't have had difficulty with a hollow or even a group of them. Yet, it had happened regardless, leaving him with a nasty injury and drained his energy. He managed to arrive back at the seireitei and was attempting to head to his quarters when he heard Jushiro’s voice. He puts on a little smile, pretending to be fine, despite it being obvious to them both that he is not. Still he'd never want to worry his friend. “That won’t be necessary, I assure you I’m quite fine, even if I am a touch slow.”

[soulst1c3]

Send 🌿 to accidentally get caught under the mistletoe with my muse.

[soulst1c3]

Friend in a Dead Land​

(As a disclaimer, this thread takes place in a post-apocalyptic world that is very dark, and may involve references to, discussions, or depictions of violence, gore, starvation, cannibalism, mutation, and other darker themes. If anyone else is reading this and is concerned about a triggering topic, please reach out before hand so we can let you know if it will appear in here. Stay safe, and thank you!)

_____________________________________________________

strongestshinigami​:

“Impressive,” Kenpachi rattled, looking at the weapons appraisingly. “Non-lethality aside, it sounds very effective. Suits you as well; you always did have a mind for strategy.”

The rest of Jūshirō’s words rattled off of him like the morning dew. His old friend had always been optimistic, a trait that Kenpachi was surprised hadn’t gotten him killed yet. If he wanted to believe there was anything other than greater and lesser monsters in the world, so be it. Reality would hit sooner or later. “I’ve got a hole carved out,” he answered instead, giving a half-shrug. “It’s an hour or so north. Don’t usually come down this far, but resources have been running a bit thin and I needed to see what I could find.” He paused, listening to the offer as he mulled it over. On a base level, it was tempting to have somewhere to live that wasn’t on the verge of being without food. Danger still screamed in the back of his head, and he stood for a long moment contemplating.

“I ain’t exactly good with people, Juu,” he finally said. “Not even before the world ended. You think having me around will be a good thing?”

Taking compliments had never been Jūshirō’s strong suit, but even he couldn’t deny the truth in Kenpachi’s words. “It is very effective, as it happens,” Jūshirō answered. He inclined his head, a tiny concession. “Thank you, Zaraki. I certainly try my best.”

Recognizing when his excitement led him to ramble had never been Jūshirō’s strong suit either, but fortune had blessed Jūshirō with reasonable skill when it came to reading the reactions of others. When Kenpachi was reticent about the rest, Jūshirō understood that his companion held beliefs that were different from his own.

Ah, well, Jūshirō thought. It was hardly surprising, given both Kenpachi’s track record and the impression he tended to make on others when he entered rooms, towns, and fights alike. Still… must he remain so isolated? Is this by choice, or is this a simple result of mistrust on the part of others? Would Zaraki even know the answer if I asked him…?

Jūshirō couldn’t keep himself from making his offer. Kenpachi was an old compatriot, after all, and Jūshirō hated to see anyone live in such danger, no matter how competent they were. Danger was, of course, inevitable in these harsh times. Even so, here and there, Jūshirō had seen pockets of joy, and of existence beyond mere survival. Jūshirō believed that everyone deserved a chance at that – even the deadliest and most polarizing among living people.

“There you go again, crafting false binaries with that iron tongue of yours,” Jūshirō said. Behind his respirator, he was smiling, and he felt reasonably certain that it would show in his voice. “Didn’t we begin this part of our conversation by establishing that good was a matter of perspective? Who’s to say, Zaraki? You might just add value to a community in ways that you never dared expect from yourself.”

With that, Jūshirō shrugged his shoulders so that his twin rifles settled comfortably into place against his back. He turned on his heel, and began to stride steadily westward. “I’m making a stop in a temporary settlement to check on a former patient of mine, if you’d like to come along,” he called over his shoulder. “Don’t feel any obligation, of course…!”

[soulst1c3]

Quick OOC activity update -

Clearly, I’m a bit behind! I’ve been busy as heck, but I do really like being a part of this community, and I don’t want to let it drop.

I reblogged one post for each of my muses as a show of good faith tonight, and I’ll keep plugging away at replies and reblogs throughout the next day or so. Apologies for being so absent and scatterbrained; I really want to be more proactive (and, yaknow,, more active) in the future.

For now, signing off to sleep, but I’ll see y’all round soon.

--Del

[soulst1c3]

heiligbogen​:

He can tell that the sound of his own voice has hit him just as hard.  After all, there’s no reason at all why they should have any sort of connection.  This man has been no where near him in life, and it’s true that he may very well have never made it here, though the things he survived, and now a situation he didn’t think possible had born fruit.  

He doesn’t actually notice the flowers until he goes to pick them up.  

“I didn’t meant to startle you,” he says.  “Let me help you.”  He picks up what he can and makes sure that it’s all in his hands.  

“But yes…I’m real, just as you are…though I’d not expected to find this tie here.”

He’s awkward and anxious, his heart beating in his throat, but he knows that the other man isn’t any better.  And so, when he’s offered a hand, he doesn’t even think.  He takes it, and gives it a squeeze.  But he wants something else, because the connection…it sparks in a way that is magic and healing.

“I am in high school,” he says.  “It–It’s my first year.”  He stumbles over some of the words but he can’t help it.  

“I’m Ishida Uryuu,” he says.  “I am…” he pauses.  “I was a quincy.  At least, if one loses their ability to manipulate reishi…I suppose that just makes me human now.”  

He gazes at the white and black cloth.  “Only captains wear that,” he says.  “I don’t know much about this world, but I do know that.”

More that he wishes to know.  

“Perhaps this is odd, and I feel strange asking it…but, after everything I’ve seen the past couple days…may I have a hug?”

It’s for the best that the young man stoops to help Jūshirō pick up his strewn flowers, because Jūshirō’s hands have grown terribly unsteady thanks to the force of this undeniable shock. He manages a genuine smile and an earnest “Thank you” when he rises again, but inside, he can still feel his startled, overwhelmed, overjoyed heart racing.

But for all that, Jūshirō only knows relief, big and deep and nearly palpable, when the young man grasps his hand. He grips it tight, and Jūshirō squeezes it in return. His shoulders drop, and he feels himself grinning broadly as he stares into the young man’s bespectacled eyes – cool, careful, but deep, and in their own way, beautiful, too.

My son! Jūshirō thinks, and it is with a monumental effort that he keeps himself from trembling all over with joy and awe. But then – no. Easy, Jūshirō, he urges himself. This boy has a real father of his own somewhere, no doubt. Or if he doesn’t now, then he did once. You mustn’t overstep, no matter how excited you feel.

The young man introduces himself. Jūshirō blinks. It’s a common enough surname, of course, but it’s one he’s certain he’s heard in some weighty way before. Jūshirō scarcely has time to draw his own inferences before the young man – Uryuu – does it for him.  He even has the grace to offer Jūshirō a clear, courteous window for reply by identifying Jūshirō as a Shinigami, rather than forcing Jūshirō to admit to any history of enmity himself. Jūshirō cannot help but be remarkably impressed.

“…Captain of the Thirteenth Division, in fact,” Jūshirō answers, gently as he can. “Our symbol is the snowdrop, you know – a flower that doesn’t mind going against the grain of late winters and blooming in adversity. And our guiding principle is hope.” He leaves the rest unspoken. I hope, Ishida Uryuu, that you don’t run away just because you and I are different. I hope that you’re too young to have heard of the worst of it. I hope that you understand that I am not my organization, and that different people defend balance and peace in different ways. I hope –

And then, with perhaps the most unexpected words yet, Uryuu asks a question.

Jūshirō does not hesitate.

The flowers fall to the ground all over again, but Jūshirō does not mind. He strides forward and folds the young man in close, wrapping his broad arms around Uryuu’s thin frame with as much strength and as much warmth as he dares.

Jūshirō holds the young man in silence for a few moments. Then, without letting go, he raises his head just a little so that his words will not be muffled by their embrace. “…for what it’s worth,” he says softly, “there’s no such thing as just a human – no matter who you were before, or who you seek to become after. Perhaps this simply means it’s time for you to carve a new path…” He pauses. “May I call you Uryuu?” he asks. “You… you can call me whatever you like! Whatever feels right.” He tilts his head sideways, trying his best to find those cool, careful, deep eyes again. “Your instincts haven’t led you astray yet, after all!”

[soulst1c3]

returnofaion​:

@soulst1c3 ||   Open Starter Call

“Ginjō, you taught me how to use my power. You taught me how to fight. So why, Ginjō. Why?! Why did you never teach me what I should do when you were gone?!”

Legs finally failing him, Tsukishima screams at the sky. The salt of tears and blood taints his lips, and the pain and emptiness of the wound through his chest is nothing to the grief, the panic-inducing sight of Ginjo cut down. His fingers dig into the earth with each sob.

Alone!…you left me alone… The anger ebbs with every spilled drop of blood that saps his strength, and he collapses to the forest floor still choking up gore and grief. Inch by inch through his body, the emptiness spread, and the darkness brought blessed relief.

Ginjo, I’ll find you in the Soul Society…

_______

Everything hurt.

Tsukishima cracks his eyes to see bright white and deep black, and he closes them again immediately at the spinning the attempt produces.

Why didn’t I die? The thought echoes in his foggy skull, and he forces his eyes back open to find the answer.

“Captain … Juushiro…Ukitake?” Tsukishima chokes the words through his scratchy throat, sheer surprise giving him the strength to manage it.

Jūshirō had made something of a habit of checking in on the poor, young man throughout the past several days. He told himself that this was simply a matter of duty, due diligence, and simple obligation – Tsukishima had, after all, sustained his injuries in a portion of the Human World that fell under the jurisdiction of the Thirteenth Division. What was more, Jūshirō reasoned, few souls were as familiar with both the intricacies of healing work and Byakuya-kun’s Senbonzakura as Jūshirō was. These things combined all made Jūshirō uniquely qualified to spearhead Tsukishima’s care, and if the way the young man had begun to stir was any indication, Jūshirō was setting him down the road to something like recovery.

This is not, Jūshirō resolved from the beginning, any sort of recompense. This is not a crass attempt to atone for guilt, no matter how ruthless Ginjo Kugo had turned out to be.

For the very first time, Tsukishima’s stirring does not cease. His eyelids flutter, and then open, and then drop shut again. Lips move, and Jūshirō hurriedly rises and moves closer – if Tsukishima is attempting to speak, his words are sure to be faint and few, and Jūshirō wishes to hear them.

Those strange, dark eyes open again, and the young man speaks Jūshirō’s name.

“…that’s right,” Jūshirō answers gently. “I’m so happy to see you awake – but please, don’t push yourself too hard. You’ve been asleep for the better part of a week, and you’re still recovering.” He nearly hesitates, but then permits himself a small smile. “Captain Kuchiki spoke with considerable admiration about your skill in battle, you know,” Jūshirō says, “and he never offers praise lightly.”

With that, Jūshirō pauses, that little smile still fixed upon his face. He knows that his own position is likely tenuous in Tsukishima’s esteem, but Jūshirō will not allow himself to shake the hope that, together, they might be able to turn over a new leaf – no matter how difficult doing so might prove to be.  

[soulst1c3]

//OOC:

//Hello, fam! Naming and recognizing that I haven’t been particularly active this month. Scheduling-wise (moderate) and energy-wise (hoo boy) grad school is a bitch and a half! 

//Finals kick off next week, and I’ve got about 2 weeks of low-ish school obligations after that. If you’re looking to plot, kick off something new, or reinvigorate an old thread, please drop me a line! I should be able to invest some good, good time and energy starting in early October. 

//Until then - DMs are always open for group folks, both here and on Discord (even if I’m not green/yellow - I’ll always respond eventually). Really looking forward to building more lovely RP with y’all.

// - Del

[soulst1c3]

Here’s To The Autumn

Moved from here @reservedhealer

Jūshirō  could see that he’d startled the poor Lieutenant somewhat. She seemed lost in thought, Jūshirō concluded, though he did not make any presumptions about what occupied her mind. His gaze, subtle but keen, caught the way her hands unclasped, and he was glad to detect a new ease in his guest; as her eyes flicked up and down, he understood that he was being evaluated, but today, he permitted such a thing readily. Today, he was strong. Today, he was more than content to let Lieutenant Kotetsu watch as she would. Today, he moved with ease, with a lightness of bearing, and with the signature grace that had, Jūshirō had come to understand, come to be regarded among some as his trademark.

That was, at least, until the wind decided to wreak its havoc. He clutched steadily enough to the unwieldy tray in his hands, and he scarcely thought twice about sputtering his request to the lieutenant. As ever, her hands were steady. She rose to her feet and buttoned up his coat as though this was the most natural and logical thing in the world, and Jūshirō  grinned over the tea tray at her as she adjusted his near-convoluted lapels.

“I’ve got it,” he assured her, striding forward and settling the tray down between the two of them. With that, he poured, admiring the way the jasmine-scented steam curled into the newly cooling air. When he was satisfied, he took his seat, and passed the first cup to Lieutenant Kotetsu before taking up the second himself.

“A toast of a sort nearly feels in order,” Jūshirō offered. “Here’s to the autumn, when we remember that cold can bring comfort, and that falling things can yield bright, new things in time.”

[soulst1c3]

(Since she would do almost all these, random jabbing of the screen was done. The pen landed on these. Feel free to run with them.) [COLLAR] - sender reaches out to smooth down / fix receiver's collar. Or [COAT] - sender zips / buttons up receiver's coat for them.

As it's starting to get a little cooler outside, we decided to go with [COAT], for seasonality! From here || Still accepting!

For the first time he can remember in a long, long while, Jūshirō glanced down to the tray of tea and sweets in his hands with some small regret. He'd managed to nudge the sliding door open with a foot, but the instant he did, a shock of cold air blustered inside. His long hair, unbound, whipped abruptly behind him, and his jacket, well-made and knee-length and unbuttoned, followed suit.

He peered downward to where Lieutenant Kotetsu, who he'd invited for afternoon tea now that he was finally feeling hale and healthy again, was seated. An apologetic grin split his face as he said, "I'm so sorry, Lieutenant - could I ask a favor? My coat...? I'm so sorry - ! I could put the tray down, I suppose, but it's just cumbersome enough that I'd rather not pick it up twice - do you mind terribly - ?"

[soulst1c3]

An Impatient Patient

reservedhealer​:

Extensive notes would have to be made for the nurses later in regard to his post-drain care, Isane decided, taking in his overall demeanour and meeting his response levelly. “Knowing when not to rely on others is dependent on not over-estimating one’s abilities and creating contingencies. And preferably not something that results in one looking like one has been through all weather conditions in a swamp,” she smiled in agreeable humour.

She took it as a good sign that he appeared calm and his breathing was relatively unlaboured. That he seemed to be improved in spirit and approving of his treatment were added bonuses. If he was feeling up to it on the morrow, perhaps she would speak to the matron of allowing visitors - only his friends rather than his Third Seats and any other ordinary officer. She would have to quiz the nurses on how he spent the night first. Further plans on following up on his condition during his stat were pushed aside for the moment as soon as she heard his query. “Are you sure you want to know the minutiae of Kiyone’s bickering with Sentaro?” she almost lilted in a suppressed chuckle, thinking on all the things she could not reveal out of delicacy for her sister’s feelings. At last, Isane teased out the most innocuous of accounts, which she relayed: “She idolises you to some degree, like most children would their favourite parent. Half her stories are about your bonsai, carp and housekeeping. You have a very slack hand on the reins when it comes to household management, it seems, but you attend to the budgeting yourself or so I’m told. Some of the rest of her stories may come across as… disconcerting, though she knows what she’s doing there. She gathers up the hair you’ve shed when she cleans the office and your rooms to gauge the state of your health. More hair loss than usual is a concerning sign. To others, mostly Sentaro, it looks like something else and she doesn’t explain herself well. That’s one secret you now know.”

As he fidgeted to assess his own condition, she tried to reassure him. “If you experience more discomfort after supper, let the matron know and I’ll prescribe a painkiller for you. Everything is intact and you needn’t worry.” This was accompanied with a quick squeeze to his hand as she allowed him to settle back in repose. It did not escape her attention that he was slightly easier to manage when tired and when he was made comfortable. That was certainly interesting and ironic given his insistence of his ability to manage before the drain. Now she knew, she hoped she would find it easier to see to his care in his future stays with the Fourth.

As the incision site had mostly been closed over at this juncture and she murmured, “I have to let go for a bit to apply the bandage. I’ll still be here.” A quick check to ensure that everything was as it should be and antiseptic, gauze and a wide plaster were applied. She determined that she could leave any proper bandaging until the morning, after she had inspected the wound and ordered a thorough diagnostic analysis of his lung before supper. All that could be done after he had a nap. The poor man was tired after all. Before she could protest that following up on his condition post-procedure would be no trouble, he had pre-empted her. “If you’re sure the usual staff will do, then I shan’t quibble,” she replied, eyeing him dubiously and mentally drawing up a list of instructions for the nurses. Still, she bustled about disconnecting the equipment for the blood pressure, washing the mortar and pestle, putting away everything into its place in the portable medical chest as he considered what he wanted.

By the time he had collected his thoughts, she had checked his breathing with the stethoscope to ascertain he was all right, stored all tools away, the sturdy case was shut and she was drying her hands. “You don’t know why they don’t meet your eyes?” she echoed in muted incredulity, returning to the seat by the bed and rubbing the top of his hand comfortingly as she detailed the treatment done and the other nitty-gritty that would have to disposed of and checked on in the clipboard she had brought with her. “Some of them may be afraid you might complain if they do something you dislike; that has unfortunately happened before from certain quarters. Sometimes they’re uncertain because you can shrewdly assess their work. You can be rather stubborn and they may not know what to do with you in those circumstances. We can’t all quell misbehaviour as Captain Unohana does.” A self-deprecatory snigger escaped her as she continued to absently pat his hand and  paused in her writing to smile at him. “It is difficult to see a superior officer, nobleman or professional in any field as a person when their work, air, bearing, and whatnot are the first things to come to mind, though you have the captain and me at the other extreme where we determine whether people need to be helped or if they can shift for themselves. But I will talk to nurses. I’ll come by once a day to look in on you. Would that do? I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep in case you need anything else.”

Jūshirō can very nearly see the thoughts and calculations flying through Lieutenant Kotetsu’s head. Back-up plans, lest Jūshirō attempt more recklessness, he wonders? He feels a faint glow of pride at that, both in his own continued reputation for keeping things lively in the Fourth, and in Lieutenant Kotetsu herself, for preempting. “Not all weather conditions,” he agrees with a tiny smile. “Just a few, hm? Experience, once again, being the best teacher, of course…”

The Lieutenant seems amused by Jūshirō’s desire to know more of Kiyone, and Jūshirō wonders why. Does Kiyone believe that such small, day-to-day details are below Jūshirō’s interest? Is there some private secret between the sisters that Jūshirō shouldn’t know, but that amuses Lieutenant Kotetsu all the same? “I’m more than sure,” Jūshirō says, with earnestness and enthusiasm coloring his voice. “Please – anything you feel comfortable sharing, I’ll welcome.”

It's odd, hearing his own tendencies relayed back to him through the eyes of two separate people in this way. He nods when Lieutenant Kotetsu speculates about Jūshirō’s financial habits, and he chuckles at her commentary about his household – but he is still, silent, attentive as he listens to the rest. It’s true enough that Kiyone has developed this unusual habit, and Jūshirō would be denying the truth if he said he hadn’t noticed before. “So that’s why,” he finally says. He feels touched, deeply and truly. “I never thought it was… what many others think it might be. I wondered, years ago, but I’ve managed to rule that out. Kiyone is… more difficult to read than most. She masks her true feelings so very often, and… as you say, her explanations often leave much to be desired.” He falls silent, and for a few long moments, he sits still with his thoughts, with his feelings. “You needn’t tell her that you told me all of this, Lieutenant,” he finally says, “but you may, if you wish. Regardless… if you were to find a way to let her know just how much I appreciate her… I believe I would be deeply grateful. Somehow, it isn’t the same when I express my thanks to her. I suspect she simply thinks I’m being polite. Your word, oddly enough, might hold more weight than my own.”

As he shifts his position and finally settles, she offers a suggestion, and he can feel his face twisting into a regretful expression. “Not a painkiller, please,” he says, as he reassembles his robe just a little beneath the bedsheets. “Perhaps… something that might help me stay asleep, once I’ve fallen asleep? The pain, I can manage. But when I wake in the night because my body thinks I’m suffocating, and then my mind starts waking up, too… the next thing I know, I’m in a horrible endless cycle of tiredness, and no matter what, I can’t catch more than an hour or two of true rest…” He smiles grimly. “Excepting two days ago, I suppose. I know I slept all day, because my body couldn’t maintain that cycle anymore. That happens, too, and I’d really like to avoid it again this time around, if I can…”

But, despite himself, he is settled enough to let himself slip into weary, neutral, closed-eyed ease as Lieutenant Kotetsu concludes this part of the procedure. He makes a small, soft sound of permission as she moves her hands away – and then, as the subject shifts again to his care, he feels his entire body jolted to alertness.

He explains himself as well as he can. Idly, he wonders whether the Lieutenant’s stethoscope will pick up on the new tightness that curls inside his heart when she repeats his statement almost word-for-word. This time, when she seats herself and takes his hand again, he cannot tell how much comfort he truly feels in the gesture.

“…you’re right to be doubtful,” he admits. “I do know. But I’d hoped that, perhaps, you might say something that proved me wrong.” He shakes his head as she concludes her explanation, forcing some small brightness into his face again. “I’ve saddled you with all of my doubts today, haven’t I, Lieutenant?” he says, as cheerily as he can. “I promise, I didn’t mean to do that. They’ll go away when I’m well again; they always do.” It’s a very tiny lie, of course. His doubts never entirely dissipate, but they do shrink, and they become more manageable when Jūshirō can walk and wield a blade and laugh with his friends at his leisure. “…thank you for listening,” he concludes quietly.

Her last words, though, bring more relief than Jūshirō has felt perhaps all day. They bring more relief than he cares to admit, too – he does hate to ask for still more time from the Lieutenant, especially when she’s spent so much time with him today already.

Refusals spring to his tongue immediately. Lieutenant Kotetsu hardly needs to look in on him once a day. She hardly needs to hold his hand – not unlike his mother did when he was a small child – until he falls asleep. It is such kindness. It is almost too much to bear, especially when Jūshirō thinks of the Fourth’s busy schedule.

But when Jūshirō plays out every possible scenario in his head, all of them end with Lieutenant Kotetsu insisting that this is no trouble, and with her remaining at Jūshirō’s bedside anyway, no matter how he protests. And so, in the end, he simply finds her eyes once more and inclines his head toward her, a clear gesture of acknowledgement, acceptance, and gratitude.

“I think… I’d like that very much. Thank you, Lieutenant.”

[soulst1c3]

An Impatient Patient

reservedhealer​:

An absentminded half-smile crossed Isane’s features when she observed her patient exhale almost heavily in exasperation. He was evidently chafing at his inability to do anything for himself at the moment, she determined. That settled it. She would remain until he was truly asleep to ensure that he would not over-exert himself. A part of her would not put it past him to attempt to move around his room or examine himself as soon as he was alone. There were always a handful of patients who refused to rest or learn that they would be little more than a crumpled rag on the floor if they persisted in overstraining themselves. Hopefully, Juushiro had learnt his lesson. In the event he had not, she would have to make sure he behaved.

“Exactly, we need to know when to rely on others,” she concurred placidly, darting a sardonic glance at him as she considered his obstinacy and his pride, and the ways in which they reared their heads differently at different times. “Yet someone had deigned to be a law unto himself and run off.”

She had caught the wince when she extracted the tube - there was no means of getting rid of the patient’s discomfort in spite of the anaesthetic administered and distracting talk. That went part and parcel with the treatment. Even so, she managed an apologetic noise for making inadequate preparations in this part of the process. He appeared calmer at least, she observed, which indicated the pressure over his chest had eased. “You’re welcome,” she returned, corners of her lips tugging upwards on noting that his smile had reached his eyes. That was much better; he would be more himself in another day or two if this kept up. “Kiyone has flourished under your guidance, and she does tell such stories of the everyday goings-on at your end. When the time comes, I look forward to reviewing her notes on the bevvy of worthies aspiring to her hand.”

“Are you light-headed? Is air escaping from the tube site? I’ll bandage the area when everything’s done and you’d be better for it,” she informed him, checking the blood pressure monitor as soon as his distress became apparent to her. The readings were within the normal range given the procedure. If he was experiencing more pain that was necessary, she had to be gentler next time, she reminded herself.

With a hand still exerting Kaido over the closing wound, her other hand resumed patting his when she saw it appeared to calm him. Another person would have sought recourse in an ‘I told you so’ or insufferable smugness at his admission, but Isane saw no reason to rebuke when there was real contrition. “As long as you’ve learnt your lesson,” came her answer with the barest trace of amusement in her inflexion. “And as long as you’re better. Those are the important things that matter.” At the faint shift of the fingers under hers, she closed her hand as well as she could over his and continued soothing him. “It’s no trouble. I can do the rest as you lie back. Do you want me to take over your care for the rest of your stay with us? Would that make you more comfortable?”

If Jūshirō knew the Lieutenant’s thoughts, he would be amused. Her assessment is exactly accurate. Jūshirō is, as it happens, exactly the kind of person who makes his own, private investigations and do-it-yourself fixes when he’s alone. What’s more, Jūshirō is, as it happens, very good at these private investigations and do-it-yourself fixes, and more often than not, the Fourth Division attendants who oversee his care are none the wiser. Marked improvement accompanied by an uptick in fatigue is rarely a tremendous cause for concern, after all, and Jūshirō is skilled in the arts of deflection and persuasion.

Perhaps that’s part of the reason why Jūshirō allows himself another small smile when he sees Lieutenant Kotetsu’s gently reproachful expression. “As you say,” he parries gently, “we need to know when. That also means we need to know when not to, Lieutenant – isn’t that right?” His eyes glint with playful mischief; slowly but surely, he can feel his good humor returning, no matter how tired his mind and his body might feel after such a taxing day.

The Lieutenant continues onto the last phases of Jūshirō’s treatment, and when he hears that sound of apology, Jūshirō shakes his head. This is simply a part of the process, and he does not blame Lieutenant Kotetsu in the slightest for any pain he feels, especially when it’s over and done with so quickly. He gazes idly down at his chest, and notes happily that it is rising and falling evenly, and that any hitches in his breathing are gentle and few. “…stories?” Jūshirō inquires softly, surprised. “Does she now? I hope I’m not overstepping, Lieutenant, if I ask you what sorts of stories Kiyone tells?” Any opportunity to learn more about his subordinates, Jūshirō will readily welcome, but poor Kiyone often seems struck by such nerves whenever Jūshirō asks her direct questions. He knows by now, of course, that gentle, roundabout lines of inquiry serve him better when it comes to his excitable Third Seat, but these methods often mean that Kiyone skips over details that Jūshirō would dearly love to know, but feels he shouldn’t press about. Perhaps learning through her sister is, at the end of the day, the very best solution.

By the time Lieutenant Kotetsu’s next question floats into Jūshirō’s ears, his eyes have already slid shut. He can feel his expression shifting into one of careful concentration; downplaying the situation will do neither of them any good, but Jūshirō does not wish to worry Lieutenant Kotetsu if no worry is due. He rolls his left shoulder gently and engages the muscles in his back just so, letting his spine shift from one side to the other against his supportive pile of pillows, softly testing his limits, and seeing what pain remains. “…not much,” he confirms quietly. “Just a bandage should suffice. You’re right. It’s all right. I’ll be all right.”

With one hand in his, and with the warmth of her Kaido-wielding other hand hovering over the incision in his chest, the Lieutenant offers still more words of reassurance. Jūshirō’s fingers twitch again, a tiny gesture of gratitude at her kind words. At her suggestion, he nods his head once more, and he settles just a little lower against his pillows – the notion of lying back sounds wonderful, now that he thinks of it, and the new spot his head finds on the pillow is cool and dry. He is ready to drowse off, to slip away for another several hours, and to recover his strength. All of his stubbornness has left him like so much blood flying from his lips, and Jūshirō finds himself feeling oddly, unexpectedly content.

That is, until she asks one more question, a real question, and one that Jūshirō certainly did not expect. Abruptly, his heavy eyes snap open. The room is brighter than he remembers, and he finds himself blinking rapidly as he tries to orient himself, both within the room and within his own heart. “For you to – no,” he replies, almost immediately. “Oh, goodness, Lieutenant, no. You don’t need to do something like that for my sake.” He is sure she will protest, so he continues quickly. “I’m quite serious,” he says. “I don’t need that, though I really do appreciate the offer. I really, really do. Only…” He pauses. What does he need instead?

Jūshirō wants to gather his thoughts properly, and express himself clearly. He allows several moments to pass, and he does not mind that he is taking this time.

“Some of the attendants don’t meet my eyes,” he begins softly. “Not even when I try to begin a conversation. Only small talk, of course, but... well. I’ve never known why. Will you please tell them that, when I’m here, I’m just a person? I’m not a Captain. Not a Nobleman. Not an Academy lecturer. As long as they are kind and do their jobs well, they can do no wrong. There’s nothing to fear, and nothing to be embarrassed about, no matter what state I’m in…” He lets out a low, slow sigh. “Perhaps that’s why your visit has left me so restored, Lieutenant,” he muses. “And so… no, I don’t need you to take over my care. But… if you stopped by every now and again on your rounds, I… don’t think I’d mind at all.”

[soulst1c3]

An Impatient Patient

reservedhealer​:

For the moment, it appeared her charge was doing reasonably well at holding himself together, for good humour could not be wrung out when one was overly tired or overwrought. While Isane chortled along with the thrust-out tongue and pantomime attempt at frightening imaginary passersby, her professional assessment of his exhausted air led her to be somewhat on her guard for any change in mood. Tiredness would generally overtake a person and weigh on their mind. In most normal circumstances, a worn-out person would go quiet and mentally retreat as they either sought to be alone or tried to sleep. The reactions of patients who were physically and mentally weary from their conditions and the treatments to which they were subjected, however, were more varied. Some lashed out from a sudden surfeit of spleen; some fell into deep melancholy with tears or self-flagellation; some shut themselves completely and willed themselves to be numb to everything going on so as to disassociate themselves from what was done to them. The phlegmatic sorts tended to withdraw within themselves. The ones who were active in mind and body were more prone to truculence and volatility, but that was not always the case. The quiet, good-natured ones tended to be introspective when in health, but would allow their thoughts to prey on them when they were not at their best. As she inclined to this last category herself, she had firsthand experience in the ways in which the mind could be a seething morass when one believed one was at one’s worst with nothing good to offer anyone. Given Juushiro’s behaviour since his abortive escape, she judged he would either give vent verbally in some vociferous way or fall into bitter self-recrimination.

Not knowing which to expect, she inhaled slowly to brace herself for the prospect of both as she decided against disclosing that they had seen more than his tongue at the Fourth. Doing that to a refined gentleman would be in poor taste. She could, fortunately, call upon a semblance of composure to smile gratefully at his appreciation even if he was more her captain’s patient than hers. Seeking to detach herself from turning into a splotchy red, she spoke of the Fourth collectively. "Thank you. It’s nice to know that someone notices our work instead of seeing us as overbearing nannies,“ she acknowledged, meeting his gaze with a tight smile. As the drainage has slowed down, she called forth a quick diagnostic Kaido to determine the re-expansion of the lung. "We all have our limitations. Some are self-imposed and some are due to factors beyond our control. None of us can excel in every single field or in every endeavour. Captain Unohana advises us to be self-aware of our own limitations, accept them and work within them. The influence of your skills extends wider than you know, sir." 

As the assessment revealed his lung had expanded well thus far, she disinfected her hands again, donned a fresh pair of gloves, disinfected his chest, injected another small dose of local anaesthetic and set about disconnecting the suction and anchoring device as she continued evenly, "You are consultative where others may choose to be peremptory. You extend real care and concern to nearly all fellow creatures, even those with whom you claim slight or no acquaintance. You demonstrate by example that problems ought to be solved with reason first before the application of other means, and that prudence and consideration of any known fact or occurrence from various angles are more sensible than impulsivity, which is something that I try to learn from.” Despite the faint blush at this admission, she waited for him to exhale before beginning the process to disconnect the drainage tube and explained, “You try to find good even in dubious subjects and situations, which is remarkable given the unpleasantness you must have seen and experienced over the centuries. It’s little wonder that Kiyone looks on you as a father and I suspect she will hold her future suitors to your standards. Which is both an amusing and terrifying thought. I could go on, but we are both sufficiently embarrassed, I think.”

Isane paused to check the equipment and the state of Juushiro’s breathing as she met his eyes again and gave him a comforting twitch of the lips. “Fate can be as blind as Fortune sometimes,” she stated without rancour, while supporting the drainage tube, cutting the anchoring suture and hovering a hand over incision as she executed the necessary Kaido over the area to keep things stable. “Even if there is a divinity that shapes our ends, rough-hew them how we will, a few things can be directed.” As she placed a square of gauze over the top of the tube with her other hand, she contemplated if she ought to tell him that Kiyone’s placement in the Thirteenth was her captain’s doing. After all, the girl’s excellent academic records in the areas of Kido and Kaido made her an ideal candidate for the Fourth, yet she had been sent to his Division. That would necessitate the revelation that Kiyone was in the Thirteenth as a first line of medical care for him, and apprising him of this fact may cause him some awkwardness and inconvenience Kiyone in the long run. Then there was KIyone to consider. The girl did not know the Captain of the Fourth had made behind-the-scenes arrangements for her placement and Isane had judged now was not to time for her to know. No, it was best she keep this detail to herself even if Juushiro may have drawn such a conclusion on his own. Taking the opportunity afforded by his calm breathing, she offered him a smile, watched for another soft exhalation from him and briskly removed the tube. No splash injury; so far so good, she sighed in relief at the lack of resistance to the removal.

“Fate is more big-picture orientated, I think. The tiny inconsequentials - those she allows us to shift for ourselves,” Isane intoned musingly, throwing the tubing on the drainage bag stand with one hand and squeezing the sides of the tube insertion site with the other. Healing Kido was swiftly executed over the area through her non-dominant hand as her other hand tied up the wound closure suture. She was almost done when Juushiro began blathering. A corner of her mouth quivered knowingly and she removed a glove from one hand. 

There they were, she observed impassively, weariness and self-reproach have taken over. At least there weren’t tears. Some patients did have crying fits when exhaustion overtook them and they gave in to their feelings of impotence. Dealing with those exhausted both patient and physician. At least she wouldn’t have to slap aside Juushiro’s hands or strap him down or sit on him before sedating him, she noted dryly to herself. 

“It’s all right not to be all right sometimes,” she articulated quietly, letting him rest his eyes as she watched his breathing while continuing to exert the requisite concentration of Kaido at the incision area. Her free ungloved hand patted one of his rhythmically in what she hoped was a comforting fashion. “You have nothing to apologise for. Sometimes things just happen. We can’t always order everything as we like. You’re among friends here and we’ll do what we can for you in the same way that you’ve looked out for us. Breathe slowly. You’ve done very well. There is no oozing.” After a cursory glance at the slowly closing wound and a subtle manipulation of her reiatsu into the Kaido, the patting hand rested sympathetically over his and she went on in the same hushed tones, “You’re safe here. I’ll need you to cough later, to make sure everything is all right. But that can wait. Rest a bit. Let me know if there is any pain or tightness in your chest. I’ll be here. And when things are all right, and all has been washed up and cleared away, I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.”

Even when flustered, Lieutenant Kotetsu possesses remarkable grace and subtlety. Jūshirō hears the way she shifts from speaking about herself to speaking about her entire decision, and he understands perfectly well what she is doing and why, and so Jūshirō, who would hate very much if Lieutenant Kotetsu felt truly uncomfortable, decides not to push. “It’s very good work,” he confirms, hoping that the two of them will both feel a reasonable sense of closure about the matter now. He watches through heavy eyes as Lieutenant Kotetsu’s hands weave familiar diagnostic kidō, and Jūshirō tries his very best not to change the rhythm of his breathing so that she can make the most accurate assessment possible. The pressure in his chest is little more than a dull, soft when he inhales fully, and that signals to Jūshirō that the procedure delivered its intended result. He furrows his brow in concentration when he inhales again, making his own assessment of his condition. Is there more pressure on his right side now, or does it simply feel that way by comparison? He cannot say for certain. He exhales, slow and steady, and then draws in a new breath. It’s only through sheer force of will that Jūshirō resists the urge to use his own kidō to run a quick, slapdash diagnostic – he knows that Lieutenant Kotetsu will chastise him if he does, and what’s more, he knows that wielding kidō in this way when his resources of energy are so limited is, in truth, a bad idea. His next exhale is almost a weary sigh of frustration, but Jūshirō catches himself just in time, and gently and silently instead.

Mercifully, Lieutenant Kotetsu has continued to speak, and Jūshirō, too emotionally exhausted for much else, allows himself to be distracted by what she says. “Self-awareness is essential if one wishes to make a true impact,” he agrees. “We need to know when to rely on others. Often, my own proudest moments have come from allowing others to shine, I think… and I daresay your Captain might feel the same way.”

Jūshirō forces himself to near-stillness as Lieutenant Kotetsu continues her work, never mind Jūshirō’s natural instincts to shift against his pillows to make it easier for her to reach – so rarely, Jūshirō knows, does movement like that actually help, and a body at rest is much easier to work upon than a body in motion. As ever, Jūshirō’s eyes track the Lieutenant’s movements, and as ever, Jūshirō finds himself exceedingly impressed by her skill.

What he does not expect, however, is the absolute deluge of praise that spills from the Lieutenant as she works.

She offers a few kind, articulate observations, and Jūshirō musters as much grace as he can and simply smiles at her, a polite, indifferent expression. But then, she continues. She showers compliments upon him, to an extent that Jūshirō can scarcely fathom, and he’s so caught up in making sense of her words that he forgets altogether to pay attention to her hands and, despite himself, winces when Lieutenant Kotetsu disconnects the drainage tube from his chest. With an effort, he maintains that neutrally pleasant expression upon his face, and spends several slow, slow moments grasping for something, anything that is both honest and reasonable to say. Jūshirō finally shakes his head, a small, soft gesture. “…thank you,” he settles on, in the end. A tiny, true smile does lift his lips now, even though his heart feels so unexpectedly and overwhelmingly full that it very nearly pains him. “I do hope Kiyone has learned at least a little in the years we’ve spent together. As for future suitors… well.” He chuckles idly. “We’ll see, now, won’t we?”

Jūshirō hardly expected to feel his emotions pulled upon so firmly this afternoon. Physical weariness brought on by his escape attempt alone, Jūshirō could have handled, but now, that physical weariness is coupled with the trying endeavor of accepting this onslaught of praise. Jūshirō’s eyes suddenly feel tremendously tired, and when he tries to, he can actually hear his heartbeat pounding in his temples. He rests against his pillows, forces himself to gaze as calmly as he can into the middle distance, and focuses on his breathing. In. Out. Slower, now, Jūshirō. In. Out. Slower still – don’t make yourself dizzy, just because it doesn’t hurt as badly anymore. In. Out. That’s nearly it – just a touch slower, even now…

Lieutenant Kotetsu says something strange. Jūshirō’s eyes slide shut, and he does his best to keep a pained expression from crossing his face, but he’s quite sure that he only succeeds in part. He opens his mouth as if to reply but in the end, he bites back his words. No. Careful, Jūshirō. Don’t slip too far. Another, even more jarring thought strikes him after that. I’m tired. I’m weary. My guard is low. What if I reveal my secrets in my sleep…?

Unless –

What was it Lieutenant Kotetsu had said?

“Even if there is a divinity that shapes our ends…”

Abruptly, Jūshirō’s heart is in his throat. Does she know? Has all of his caution been for naught? And, if she knows – might Kiyone know, too? How many people are making accommodations for Jūshirō without his knowing, and how poorly has he failed to protect those he cares about from the pain of the truth?

He hears himself apologize, again and again. He can’t help himself. He tries to school himself to silence, but his spirit and his tongue seems to have minds of their own, and so feelings and words flow freely. A reply makes its way into his ears, but to Jūshirō doesn’t have the strength to bear more small kindnesses like this, not now, not after such an eventful day. At long last, he hears a command, and that pierces through – breathe slowly. He nods his head and draws the slowest breath that he can manage, and lets it out with gentleness and care. He feels a hand upon his, and it’s an indescribable comfort. He bites back a weak sound of gratitude that threatens to rise in his throat; how many days has it been since someone touched him simply for the sake of kindness or comfort or closeness, and not to administer treatment?

“…I think I’ve learned my lesson, Lieutenant,” Jūshirō says quietly. “I shouldn’t have tried to escape. I would have been all on my own with a body too tired and a heart too weary to make any serve my Division the way I prefer to… but then, they say that experience is the best teacher, don’t they…?”

He tries very, very hard to open his eyes, but he cannot. Frustrated, but unwilling to fall into the soft darkness of sleep without saying what he must to Lieutenant Kotetsu, Jūshirō’s fingers twitch beneath Lieutenant Kotetsu’s hand – a poor substitute for eye contact, but it is contact all the same, and that is much, much better than nothing. “I do feel better, Lieutenant,” he says. “I… am sorry for the trouble. Thank you for everything.”

[soulst1c3]

Excellent Spirits (A Birthday Thread <3)

twoswordsonecaptain​:

“Far too long,” Shunsui responds right away.  They have not truly enjoyed a night out together in farther than he cares to remember.  It’s almost slightly embarrassing, but it will soon be remedied.  That’s all that matters now. 

Shunsui smiles to himself as he realizes Jushiro is looking at him.  He takes pride in knowing that even after all of these years he can still easily hold his lover’s attention.  Of course it’s always been the same for him when it comes to Jushiro and he allows himself a moment to admire him in turn.  They are fortunate that their bond is not shallow, and based on only the physical or superficial.  Instead it’s based on true friendship, admiration, supporting each other and it’s only grown stronger over the years.

“I’ve missed you as well,” he whispers as he squeezes Jushiro’s hand back gently. Getting to see each other for brief short times is well and good but it really can’t compare to getting much needed quality time together. He smiles at the suggestion. “You’re right, if you message they should be able to accommodate us. It would make tonight all the more memorable if we dressed for the occasion.”

Some moments later, Jūshirō becomes aware that Shunsui is watching him, too. Usually, when Jūshirō learns that he’s captured the attention of another person for some reason or other, he shifts in some way or another - a twitch in his lips to show that he is happy, or a roll of his shoulders to show that he is healthy. But with Shunsui, Jūshirō feels no such need. His best friend has always taken Jūshirō just as he is, even though Jūshirō sometimes struggles to understand why. No matter the reason, though, it is a relief, and it is a joy. Every time Jūshirō catches Shunsui admiring him, he counts himself very, very lucky. 

Their hands touch, and Shunsui seems amenable to every part of Jūshirō’s plan as Jūshirō lays it out. Jūshirō catches his friend’s gaze and feels another smile lifting his lips. Shunsui is handsome, incredibly handsome, but Jūshirō believes his friend looks his best when he has the opportunity to truly express himself. “In that case,” he says, “I’d best get going - I want to give the owners as much advance notice as possible. It’s only polite.” With that, Jūshirō squeezes Shunsui’s hand one more time, and then lets it go and makes his way to the door. “6 o’clock,” he reminds his friend. “I’ll see you there.”

The rest of the day passes slowly for Jūshirō, because he is so, so looking forward to the evening. But when, at long last, 6 o’clock arrives and Jūshirō finds himself standing outside the quaint, cheery, little restaurant, he feels that it was more than worth the wait. He’s dressed simply, but well. He’d considered tying back his hair, but in the end, he’d chosen to leave it free and unbound, and it blows gently in the warm, summer breeze. He squints down the darkening Seireitei street, eager for Shunsui’s arrival.

[soulst1c3]

send me 🎨 and i’ll put your + my muse’s names through an ai art generator!

[soulst1c3]

send 📖 and a number for a sentence starter from a page of a book i’m reading!

[soulst1c3]

SIMPLE ACTIONS

hello, I'm a new RP prompts blog! my first post is just some simple actions; plenty of room for you to decide what the reasoning or emotion behind the action is. feel free to make edits to better suit your muse, but please don’t edit or add on to the original post 💛 nice to meet you all!

[COLLAR] - sender reaches out to smooth down / fix receiver's collar.

[RUFFLE] - sender ruffles receiver's hair.

[BRACE] - sender braces receiver under the elbow.

[FOREHEAD] - sender feels receiver's forehead.

[HANDS] - sender takes receiver's hands.

[NECKLACE] - sender fastens a necklace around receiver's neck.

[SHOULDER] - sender lays a hand on receiver's shoulder.

[SIT] - sender guides receiver to sit down on a chair / bed / wall / etc.

[LAY] - sender guides receiver by the shoulders to lay back.

[TUG] - sender tugs receiver's hand in an attempt to get them to follow.

[WAIST] - sender rests a hand against receiver's waist.

[SUPPORT] - sender pulls receiver's arm over their shoulder for support.

[DRINK] - sender sets something to drink down in front of receiver.

[FOOD] - sender sets something to eat down in front of receiver.

[BACK] - sender rubs a hand up and down receiver's back.

[COAT] - sender zips / buttons up receiver's coat for them.

[CHEEK] - sender brushes a thumb over receiver's cheek.

[NUZZLE] - sender nuzzles into receiver's neck.

[HUG] - sender tugs receiver in for a hug.

[CHIN] - sender tucks receiver in under their chin.

[LIFT] - sender lifts receiver off the ground (or attempts to).

[CARRY] - sender carries receiver to another location.

[HALT] - sender gently pulls receiver to a halt.