#ash and words

[randomshowerthoughts]

i gave you my world and you gave me nothing but ash

[escapenightmare]

sae itoshi was not a nonchalant boyfriend or a chill guy, despite how much he tried to seem like he was. you don’t ask him for his opinion on your outfit? do you not want him (to compliment you and ask you to do a small twirl so he could see the ensemble properly and then pepper your cute face with kisses)? you don’t want him to share his food with you? okay, so basically you’re saying you want him to go to hell.

you tell him to quit liking flirty comments from random people under your posts? what’s wrong with that, he agrees with them— you’re absolutely stunning. and no, he isn’t doing it just so those randoms get a notification that saeitoshi, with a silly picture of you and him with your cheeks smushed together as his profile picture, has liked their comment so that they now know you aren’t single and looking for some sleazy jackass who thinks they can get your undivided attention just by commenting ‘🔥🔥’. seriously, how dare you accuse him of such pettiness?

but really, none of that is compareable to how he feels right now; damp hair sticking to his forehead, towel over his shoulder, one hand buttoning up his loose shirt while he’s looking at his phone, fresh out of the shower after the usual training. his teammates are yapping about something like they always do but it’s all silent in his head as he takes in what feels like utter blasphemy on the screen.

zero notifications.

well, actually, he had a shit ton of texts messages from his teammates and people he considered somewhat his friends but none of them really matter— only you do.

and you hadn’t texted him since yesterday (almost 24 hours ago!), when he was on his way home and asked you if you wanted him to bring you extra snacks or something.

do you hate him?

he clicked out of the messages app and checked instagram, where you’d usually have flooded his dms with chronically online shit that he had no idea how you found funny. seriously, what the heck is all that about divers going into small spaces and eye of dih? he visibly deflates when he sees you hadn’t sent anything on there either (the last text was from him, when he’d said ‘???’ to your text that read ‘what is a father?’).

Sae [16:43pm]: Do you hate me

nah. scoffing to himself, he deleted the words, exited the app and pocketted his phone. since when was he such an attention deprived, needy little shit? whatever.

by the time he opens the front door to your shared home, there’s still no text, no call, no reel, nothing from you. “angel?” he calls out in his usual, casual tone, nudging the door shut with his boot. “’m home.”

“in here, sae,” you call out from the bedroom and he quickly takes off his shoes, drops his duffel bag onto the couch and trudges into the bedroom, feeling as if if he were a puppy, his tail would be wagging harshly behind him. “i was just about to text you.” you tell him with a small smile from where you’re sitting on the office chair behind the desk, your laptop in front of you and notes strewn all over the desk. you were.. studying.

ah, right. no wonder you hadn’t texted him.

you barely register his silent footsteps and fast pace until he’s right behind you within the time it took for you to blink, one hand on the arm of the chair to turn it around before he’s half hunched over you, his other hand pressing on your back to tug you into a hug. “missed you,” his voice is muffled as he buries his face into the crook of your neck, the soft tufts of his moist hair tickling your chin and neck. “thought you hated me.”

“what?” it was said so quietly that you almost didn’t hear it, but you do and now you’re pulling back a bit to look at him properly. “what gave you that idea?”

“forget about it,” he tries to avoid the question in a painfully untactful manner, attempting to hug you again, but faltering as he sees the look on your face. god, this was so humiliating. “y‘didn't text me today— or call, or send me stupid reels,” he points out with an embarrassed grunt, standing up to his full height and running a hand through his hair. “thought you were pissed at me for beating you in monopoly or something.”

huffing, you grin up at him. “you didn’t have to bring that up, jerk. but no, as you can see,” you gesture to your table and he notices the splotches and lines of dried ink on your fingers from your pen. “i’ve been studying. or trying to, at least.”

“huh.” he lets out, grasping your hand in his and intertwining your fingers before untangling them again so he could toy around with them. his brows furrow and he scoffs when you continue, saying something along the lines of ‘i didn’t think you’d notice.’ “yeah, well, i noticed. i dunno. kinda hard to miss the zero texts from the only person i reply to, yeah?”

your eyes brighten at that, but you tease, “ohh, yeah, right. sorry, i forgot you’re a friendless loser.”

“look who’s talking,” he shoots back, and you’d almost be offended if it wasn’t for the playful look in his eyes. he sighs and dips his head to press a kiss to your temple before walking over to the closet.

“were you really sad that i didn’t send you stupid reels?” you ask him with a curious look while watching him pick out a random t-shirt and sweats, not making fun of him like you’d usually do, just genuine curiousity in your tone.

he hums in response, undoing a few buttons of his shirt before tugging it off his head and glancing at you, with his teal eyes narrowed in contemplation, shirt still hanging around his elbows. “guess so. ’s stupid, huh?”

“nah,” is your immediate reply, followed by a small shrug. “i think it’s sweet, actually. in a pathetic sort of way. you’re kinda sweet.”

during his 10-minute break from training the next day, he finds himself on the bench of the locker room, resting his aching legs with his half empty water bottle next to him as he’s scrolling through your dms with a soft smile. a shit ton of reels and one ‘good luck at practice!!’ message stares back at him.

yeah. he thinks you’re (kinda) sweet too.

[spicynectarines]

the two of us live in different worlds

[a-dash-of-ashlie]

[indigoluvers]

↪ Anne Sexton / James Patterson, The Angel Experiment (Maximum Ride, #1) / Moral of the Story by Ashe / Motion Sickness by Phoebe Bridgers/ Ranata Suzuki / The New Thing Dies by Ray Bull

↪ dm for credit or removal of images

[randomtheidiot]

I wonder how many people saw Ash compete in the Masters 8 tournament and thought “hey look it’s that little guy from Kanto who helped me with my chores a couple months back… WAIT-”

[thoughtkick]

Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can.

Arthur Ashe

[tofusfortbhk]

Tbhk Ch120 Analysis:

(Warning: Spoilers)

#1: Teru did not kill Kou on accident or by reflex.

I’ve seen this take on tumblr and Twitter and I disagree. As much as I like the poetic irony of Teru’s violence towards supernaturals causing him to hurt whose he’s sworn to protect from them, I think it’s wrong.

As Teru blasts Kou, Teru is already upset.

Comedy moments in the manga aside, this is the 1st time we’ve ever seen Teru visibly devestated. Prior to this he has always, consistently approached supernatural danger with whimsy and lighthearted cheer. Even when there were dire stakes:

Teru after realizing Aoi was essentially dead after coming getting kidnapped by Number 6. (Ch70)

Teru in ch79, after learning his baby brother went into the notably deadly Red House. (Ch79)

Teru after getting betrayed and apprehended in the Clock Keepers’ boundary. Where they’re supposed to be “undefeatable.” (Ch109)

The uniting factor is that Teru had some level of control. That there wasn’t any true danger/death. He’s gonna get Aoi back, he had faith in Kou to not succumb to the house’s wishes, and you can’t die in boundaries (applies to when the gang got jumped by Num 6 too).

Here, Teru is devastated — not bc Teru is sacred that Kou may get hurt (active threat) but bc Teru knows Kou is already dead.

Look at how Teru walks to the well immediately.

Teru isn’t falling to his knees like “Wait, I didn’t mean to kill him. What have I done?“

He walked there immediately. With intent.

He’s not acting like someone who’s killed his brother on accident. On reflex. He’s acting like someone who knows. Who’s already grieving. Who’s checking for confirmation.

Confirmation that his little brother died in that well. Has been dead.

This isn’t a boundary or fictional world. That is the real Kou — just of a different timeline — and in this one he died. No control, no games, no convenient truth. And Teru couldn’t protect him.

[piiinch]

i know this insane quote from britt lower from the PaleyFest panel has been making rounds here on tumblr but i was rewatching the finale and

WHAT DO YOU MEAN shes also bathed in the red-that-symbolizes-love RED ??

[asoftepiloguemylove]

THERE IS BLOOD ON MY HANDS AND I CAN'T WASH IT OFF

unknown // BANANA FISH (2018) dir. Hiroko Utsumi // Franz Kafka Letters to Milena; written August 26, 1920 // William Shakespeare The Tragedie of Macbeth // Traci Brimhall Saudade // Mr. Robot (2015-2019) cr. Sam Esmail // The Crane Wives Tongues and Teeth // Ethel Cain Strangers // Mary Oliver Count the Roses // boygenius Not Strong Enough // Kris Kidd // Neil Gaiman // Are you a Soldier, a Poet, or a King? uquiz cr. @atlanticsea // Nicole Dollanganger Dog Teeth // 呪術廻戦 Jujutsu Kaisen (2020-) dir. Shota Goshozono

[crvida]

michael distortion would randomly appear in your bedroom at night and do the mom i frew up pose

[choujinx]

BANANA FISH (1985-1994) by yoshida akimi

[ashes-hearts]

enjoying the aftermath of pressure w breath holds ☺️ my hearts racing (124bpm) n throwing pacs all over the place 😍 wish someone was here to monitor its messy uncoordinated beats w their hands on my chest just incase...😳

[tofusfortbhk]

Can we acknowledge how tragic of a detail this is? In ch114?

The fact that Teru views Kunishige (shrine grandpa) as the only one he can rely on despite how their relationship is at-best frenemies and at-worst hostile is downright devastating.

Reason #1: Teru and Kunishige’s relationship is predominantly negative.

In ch79, gramps was making jokes about threatening Teru’s livelihood and while Teru later joined in to counter, the comment was clearly in bad faith — an attempted power play to exert control over Teru and his flippant behavior. It’s a baseless threat stuffed within the carcass of a joke: “your family needs us — show respect.” Teru’s an instigator for sure, but he’s not the adult in this situation.

Point #2: Kunishige has done little to deserve Teru’s faith as an individual.

Shrine politics aside, gramps was beefing with a teenager and snitches on him to his dad! He pulled the “I’m telling Dad on you” with Teru’s OWN FATHER pushing 90 — like DAWG.

I don’t fault gramps for reporting the Red House incident given his past experiences or its history, but it was the professional choice — not the kind one. It doesn’t indicate any affection towards Teru nor resemble how you would treat a child you would go out of your way to support. Teru clearly has an adverse reaction to his father. He’s off-put by the idea of contacting him in ch79 and canonically views his father as absent and not someone he can expect help from in ch114. Not over Kunishige at least.

Yeah, gramps puts on the Santa suit per Teru’s request. That in itself is an undeniable act of kindness. He does care and I don’t doubt that he is there for Teru. But it’s not enough to deny this fact:

Conclusion: The only person (and adult) Teru feels he can rely on doesn’t treat him very well and won’t protect him from his father if it meant going against his shrine duties. A bottom of the barrel choice because it becomes unnervingly evident this child, Teru, as early as 14, grew up having no one else. He chooses Kunishige over his own father, family members, friends, teachers — everyone.

And Kunishige doesn’t even like him.

[casstars]

Little Ace Attorney doodle dump, some sketches I did while replaying rfta and Calisto Yew for anon :p

[killlust]

Dangerous but divine. | 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐀 𝐒𝐀𝐋𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐀. 𐙚 Marisela was never meant to live a quiet life. The daughter of a notorious mastermind wanted across Europe for planning and executing high-stakes bank heists, her name has always carried the weight of whispers. Her mother, a once-beautiful woman swallowed by addiction, spent more time with a bottle than with her own child. And so, Marisela grew up between locked doors and louder silences, learning early that trust was a fragile, dangerous thing. Despite the chaos of her upbringing, Marisela found solace in art. Brushstrokes became her language, canvases her confessions. She studied fine arts with a passion so intense it burned through her, and against all odds, she built an empire from it. Today, she owns one of the most prestigious contemporary art museums in Europe—hidden behind glass walls in the old city of Cádiz, Spain. But success hasn’t erased the shadows. Marisela keeps people at arm’s length. Her beauty is sharp, her words sharper. She’s direct, guarded, and impossible to read. Most assume she’s cold. Few realize it’s fear—fear of being known, of being left, of losing control. What none of them know is that Marisela carries a deeper secret still: through her aunt, she inherited the bloodline of a bruja. Magic flows quietly through her veins, ancient and waiting. In a city of salt and sea, Marisela walks alone—an heiress of crime, art, and something much darker.

(you must be 21+ to stay. I don’t open up easily—not to strangers, not to the light. If you’re here for soft stories and happy endings, you’re in the wrong place. I write for those who understand that beauty can be dangerous, that silence speaks, and that shadows sometimes tell the truth better than the sun ever could. If you crave mystery, if you’ve ever felt haunted by your past or drawn to the dark, then maybe—just maybe—you’ll understand me. But don’t get too close. I don’t trust easily, and I don’t stay open for long)