#-SLAMS FIST DOWN

[cozyfaee]

[akkivee]

the brighter the light, the darker the shadow

—

there’s a very large chance that kuukou’s backstory parallels sasara’s more than anyone’s, in that they had very normal-ish upbringings but handled them very poorly lmao, but i’m choosing to believe light and shadow, medication vs meditation, twin dudes with buddha imagery jakurai and kuukou are living their lives the way they are to atone for past mistakes

[zappedbyzabka]

[gracebethartacc]

THERES ONE (1) SINGULAR WISH PENCIL TEST AND NO ONE BOTHERED TO SHOW ME?????

[kurosakilchigo]

"You know, your nightmares seem to revolve more and more around me these days." How funny too, when Zangetsu felt that he was such a small part of Ichigo's life by comparison. He's been there with him, always, living within his bones, burning within his soul- but it has only been a few years since he'd woken up as Ichigo's Zanpakuto, and fewer years still that he's been regarded as such. Never the blade slung on his shoulder; only the white-faced horror that was remembered when Zangetsu forced him to.

Yet within that short amount of time, it seemed that even the wounds Zangetsu left him had become more dear to Ichigo than his own flesh and blood. The nightmares he had wouldn't have been so vivid otherwise. They rear their heads time and time again, those half-remembered tortures from the past: the aftermath of Mugetsu, with the blade disintegrating in Ichigo's hand afterwards, and Zangetsu with it. Ginjo's betrayal, granting him power only to wrest it from his tight fist again. Yhwach and his seething mass of shadow and eyes, tearing Zangetsu out of him like wrenching a precious coin out of a miser's hands.

Zangetsu never said anything to reassure him every time he came to banish those nightmares with his blade. That sentiment was useless in his dreams, when Ichigo's memories held about as well as a fragile veil of frost, crumpling under its own weight. Here, though, in reality, where Zangetsu sits on Ichigo's bed next to where his wielder lies, they are words worth saying. Their value will not be so easily forgotten.

Zangetsu's hand gently cards through Ichigo's hair. "Idiot... why are you so worried about losing me? Do you think I'd just sit by and let it happen? I'd never leave you. If we were separated, I'd claw my way out of hell to find you again."

@killerinstincts || accepting

Ichigo’s breath is still coming too quick. Damp heat clings to his skin, sweat cooling in patches along his spine. His pulse stutters in his throat, too loud in his own ears. He knows Zangetsu can tell. Knows he’s seen this all before. 

That should help. 

It doesn’t. 

He forces breath slower through his nose and doesn’t answer right away. Can’t. His mouth is too dry, chest too tight, teeth locked. If he tries, he’s not sure what will come out. Zangetsu’s hand drifts through his hair, steady and cool, and his eyes shut before he can stop them. Just a flicker, like reflex--the briefest lean into the touch before he reins it back. Stupid. He won’t ask for comfort. Not when he still feels this broken and useless and small. This isn’t what anyone needs from him. Least of all his sword.

Zangetsu’s words cut. Filet. Make him bare and on display in a way he doesn’t know how to defend against. Laid open, Zangetsu's free to touch the exact wound Ichigo is trying so hard not to look at.

Breath uneven, he tries for control. Tries to sound like himself. It takes a long time for the words to come.

“It’s not about what you would do...” The words rasp out quieter than he means, but they’re steady enough. He holds them there. “It’s... It's about what I couldn’t stop.” 

So when Zangetsu says, “I’d fight to come back,” all Ichigo can hear is, “If you lose me again. When you lose me. You could still lose me.”

His jaw tightens, shame prickling at the back of his neck. The images from the dream still coil around him in the dark, iron strong and suffocating. The vast emptiness of being powerless... The memory makes him feel sick. “I just--” His emotions rise too much, too fast, too deep. He’s drowning in them. Afraid what might spill out, his voice catches. He breathes through it. 

He lies still, fists curled in the sheets, throat raw with unsaid things.

And then quieter, barely more than the hum of the quiet house, he turns his head away.

“Go back.”

[abbey-abdominal]

would u still love me if I was a worm would u still love me if I had nothing to offer u if I couldn’t talk to u or cry to u or touch u would u still love me if i essentially was not the same as I started out w/ u would u still love me even if u hated bugs and I was a jester girl and u were a ragdoll girl and we’ll never be the same after letting ourselves be vulnerable with each other and exposing our innards would u still

[chromatiica]

someone stop me from not only making a comeback on indie…. But…. Making a Broadway inspired character/muse…hahahahahaha jk….. unless…. 👀👀👀👀

[spaciebabie]

Opening your eyes, you found yourself staring up at the ceiling as you let out a yawn. Slowly, you turned.

Pulling a hand out from underneath the covers, reaching over to press your phone’s screen, which revealed the time. 7:49AM.

You remembered the previous night—you were certain that you hadn’t drifted off until twelve. Springtrap had kept you awake for some time... not that you minded.

Speaking of the rabbit... you shifted around in the bed, turning to the left. “Mor-“ You halted.

To your surprise, there was no Springtrap laying beside you, which was... odd. He’d always stayed with you there—until you got up and ready for the day.

He always seemed so comfortable by your side—and the rabbit, typically, would enjoy listening to your heartbeat. You were sure he did that whenever.

Rubbing at your eyes, you threw the cover off of your body, and started to climb out of bed—but a sudden, familiar noise made you freeze.

You knew the rabbit’s footsteps very well—and you could certainly hear them very well, too—on account of how loud they were. That wasn’t a surprise.

Back at the attraction, he tended to wander a lot, whether with or without you. It was always easy to find Springtrap.

Your bedroom door swung open, and it revealed Springtrap standing in the doorway, grinning. He had a large plate in one of his fuzzy hands.

“Morning, Love.”

As Springtrap moved closer, and you got back into a comfortable position on the bed, you came to realize just what was on the plate: one of your favorite foods.

He knew how to cook?

A few more seconds, and Springtrap had finally reached your side of the bed. Still holding the plate in one hand, he crouched down.

His free hand was then placed under your chin, as he pressed a kiss against you, before setting the plate full of food down in front of you.

“Enjoy, Love.”

<Incorrect-FNaF-quotes

YOU WROTE ANOTHER ONE????????????????? AUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHGRUILAGHKJSGHLJKLDG

[leatherlaceddiedbadly]

Highschool boys do not give a shit about your personal space its kind of crazy

[currently-tired]

you guys know what we’re missing from tgs jekyon? The toxic besties arc.

where is the fighting over fanciful theories? five hour discussions late at night over whether body snatching is morally correct or not, that ends with both of them not speaking to each other for three days straight.

They hate each other, but five minutes later they’re best friends again.

They hate each other, but they’d never pick anyone over each other.

Lanyon’s pissed that Jekyll got a better grade on the science test, but is still helping him with his accent with passive aggressive remarks. “Shorten your A’s Jekyll.” “Yes, just like that.” “Speaking of A’s, you know who else should’ve gotten one?”

Jekyll’s pissed that Lanyon borrowed his textbook on the day of the open book test without asking, so he makes sure to bend down every single opportunity he gets. (Whoops. Accidentally dropped my pencil right next to you! Yeah, it just rolled over there. crazy…)

Utterson looks at his two best friends and goes “Oh my Lord, not again…” (After a while, he gets used to it. Kind of hard not to, when hanging around the two of them so much.)

Jekyll: Lanyon is such an ignorant son of a bitch who!-

Utterson, interrupting: Did he tell you that a rose was more accurate for courtship than a peony again?

Jekyll: …yes

Henry rants about his theories, and Lanyon is like. No. Those are fucking crazy man. Unscientific balderdash. Foolishness. Shuts him the fuck down. (But still, Jekyll comes to him with his new ideas…)

Lanyon tells Jekyll about this gala he’s being forced to go to filled with boring people, and Jekyll tells him to suck it up, and laughs at him. (But yet they go together, and make fun of everyone there...)

They’re similar, but too similar at times. They mesh well together, and clash equally.

(They’re two sides of the same coin. They’re two different coins altogether.)

They could be pissed as fuck at each other, but still would do anything for each other. They would drop anything and everything to help each other.

They hate each other, but can’t help but to love each other.

(Well, hate and love are practically the same thing, right?)

[keyofjetwolf]

I'm only a third in, so not far enough yet to know where my current book (The Immortalists) will fall for me re: recommendations, but I WILL say it made me cry like a little bitch last night.

[murmursdraconic]

⠀sitting beside her on the couch.⠀nudging anything out of his way, then flopping right into her lap.⠀adjusting himself here and there to get cozy—⠀then he sighs, seemingly pleased.⠀no getting up now, not when he's so comfy.

She was reading over some of her rehab cases on her phone when she feels her arm being lifted and a weight between her and the phone screen. Shay just stares at him acting like a self entitled Persian.

He sighs. Damn it why did he have to be like this-

She groans with an eye roll. "You're lucky you're pretty and cute."

Fine, she can put her phone down. She shifts and leans back. Grabs one of the nearby blankets she keeps on the couch - poor man was always cold and she was growing accustomed to being cuddled for her heat - puts it over both of them. One arm around his waist, the other around his shoulders. Fingers giving his head a gentle scratch and moving through his hair.

"Dork." Rests her head on his. Hiding a smile.

[ghostlyfirn]

BRUH every time i try to draw oc content i either get disrupted by executive dysfunction or Autism. both render me incapable of drawing literally anything

[fissions-chips]

Wanna write a fic ft. Tim on a fishing boat (maybe like… assisting The Major? Like the Major oversees the Fowls fishing company work and Tim just wanted to get out of the Manor). Jon’s a new crew member who’s learning how to fit in and they start to fall for each other.

Except it’s a horror fic where members of the crew start going missing, there’s weird spooky shit going on, and Tim finds himself with gaps in his memory overnight and a rapidly spiraling mental state. Jon seems… less alarmed about the whole thing than he should be.

[dogcollarpunk]

Awful mood bc we missed all of dynamite and just saw blood and guts and it wasn’t even good and-

[malesexualizer]

WHEN THE FUCK WAS FIRE TYPE SUPER EFFECTIVE TO FAIRY TYPE WHAT.