#bleached thoughts

[beautifulblackbutterflies]

Also, can we talk about Shunsui in that last episode? My boy went from this

To this

Like, there should be no question anymore about why Yamamoto left him in charge. Homeboy is 'bout it 'bout it

[daughter-s-of-cain]

[sunnysconfusion]

sunbleached flies sitting in the windowsill

[jazzy0clock]

Siblings are always annoying (most of them)

[beautifulblackbutterflies]

Kitty: *chilling as we rewatch this episode and suddenly has an epiphany* "Aw maaaan..."

Hubs: "What's up, hon?"

Kitty: "So, I already thought this problematic bastard was hot from jump, but I just realized this moment is when he had me in a chokehold."

Hubs: "*pats head* Cuz he could literally put you in a chokehold 😏"

Kitty: "You are rude, but not incorrect 🫠"

See below to relive Grimmjow’s first appearance

bleach — episode 121

[carm3n-carm3n]

so I just prayed and I keep praying and praying and praying

if it’s meant to be then it will be

[rainmacaroni]

IR's classic bickering banter ~

[mtcloudsworld]

𝐈'𝐌𝐀 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 | this was your reward for being such a good girl for daddy

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 | +18, mdni, mature themes, black!fem, daddy!kink, good girl concept, got that wet wet, consensual, the idea of being dickmatized

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | sukuna ryomen, nanami kento, renji abarai, toji fushiguro, geto suguru

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑 | here's a lil sum sum for your sweet tooth lovies!! Enjoy ;) ignore any errors, thank you!!

𝐁𝐔𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌 | masterlist

"Mmm I'ma good girl." you moaned, cooing. Your voice at an ultimate high as you clawed at the sheets. "Such a good girl."

You hear a low rumble of chuckling from behind. "Oh yeah? You're a good girl, pretty?" His grip on your waist tightens.

You nodded, "mhmm...I'm a good girl." You cooed, glancing over your shoulder to give him a satiable look. "A very good girl..."

He watches for a moment how his cock fucks you with great precision. Grunting, "Mmm...a very good girl, huh?" He thought out loud. "A very good girl for daddy, right?" The propping idea has him aroused, leans forward to plant a kiss by your ear.

"Uh huh, y-yes." You nodded.

Face down, ass up. The bed creeks and jerks with each powerful thrust. The slow, drawled out movements soon turned to swift, chasmic penetration against your oh-so-sweet cervix.

He fucks you.

He fucks you dumb. He fucks you dumb till you can't comprehend much. Till your brain turns to mush, brainrot. Till you're speechless and dickmatized. Till it's sexy to see you get fucked out this world like a damn ragdoll. Till he hears you squeak and whimper. Till he hears you beg for more.

"D-Don't...stop.." you breathed, fingers curling into the sheets. Your head lulls back by his long, thick fingers twisted into your hair, his other hand placed at the small of your back to steady his thrusts.

"F-Fucking...shit!" He hissed, jaw clenched, body tense. He rhythmically slams his hips against your ass. Feeling your gummy walls clench around his dick, he uncontrollably shoots spurts of his cum at the target of your cervix.

You took whatever he was giving and was loving every bit of it. "Oooh baby yesss!" You hollered in praise. "Just like that!"

You laxed easily within his hold. Eyes screwed, tears shed and mouth gaped with salvia rolling down the side of your chin. He fucked you dumb till moans, screams and whimpers were all you had to offer, till you felt your body shake and ache and a shower of your cum squirts all over his cock as he continues to ram himself into your leaking hole.

I appreciate the love and support!! <3<3<3

𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 ©𝐦𝐭𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃

divider: @anitalenia

[nil-elk]

Renfaire time with my gorlfren heheheh.

Dressed as you know who. ✨️😘✨️

[pearynice]

Eddie doesn’t like spending time away from Steve. 

He’s fine during the day. He can do his job and chat with his coworkers and do what he needs to do without thinking too much on it, but there is nothing in the world that he looks forward to more than being able to come home every evening to the love of his life. Nothing more gratifying than being the person that makes Steve smile when he walks through their front door. No better feeling than Steve welcoming him home.

So call it unhealthy, call him whipped or codependent or whatever else, but Eddie doesn’t like spending extended time away from his boyfriend. Maybe it was the more-than-one near death experience, the nights they spent in hospital waiting rooms, not allowed to be at each other’s bedside, but being away from Steve, especially at night, makes him anxious. Makes his heart rate pick up and his palms sweat, makes him ruminate on whether or not Steve is okay.

So Eddie hasn’t exactly been sleeping. Or eating all that well. Not for the past three days, at least. Because Steve is at a teacher’s conference in Chicago for the week, only leaving under Eddie’s profuse and continued promises that he’d be fine. That Eddie can survive a week without him. 

Which he can. It just doesn’t mean it’s exactly pleasant. Especially today. Because Eddie has the day off, and there’s not much to distract him from the gaping, Steve-sized hole in it. 

He starts by doing the laundry. Washes their sheets. Washes every throw blankets and every towel, moves onto the kitchen while the washer rumbles and does all the dishes. He goes on the truly spiritual experience of cleaning their dishwasher. Which, why must things that do the cleaning need to be cleaned? He scrubs the grime from the shower and wipes the spit from the sink, vacuums the rugs and wipes down the windows, organizes their pantry and cleans out the fridge. 

By the time he’s done his fingers ache. His back smarts from where he spent too long hunched over their tub, and still he misses Steve. 

Who is coming back tomorrow. Late in the evening, sure, but realistically Eddie only needs to survive another 30 hours. 

Which is far too long. 

He considers baking something. Like those those blueberry muffins Steve likes so much, but Eddie just knows by the end he’d have shitty muffins and a dirty kitchen.

So he tries to read. Tries to play guitar and write some songs, tries watching TV and listening to music, even tries going on a walk to pick up some dinner he knows he won’t eat, finally taking Steve’s advice on fresh air to heart. But as the clock ticks on, the itch under his skin only gets worse.

Not even their nightly phone call helps. 

He can tell Steve knows something’s up, keeps reminding him he’ll be back tomorrow, that it’s just one more night, because despite Eddie’s best attempt at deflection Steve knows him far too well.

“Tomorrow.” Steve reminds him, again, at the end of their call.

“Tomorrow.” Eddie repeats. “I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too, baby.”

Eddie misses his boyfriend. 

He tries to sleep. Can’t, of course. He tosses and turns in his bed and then tosses and turns on the couch with the TV humming staticky with whatever late-night garbage he has it on. 

And he just—has to do something. Keep occupied until the sun comes up and he can go to work and lose himself in whatever car some idiot brought in because he didn’t change the oil. Keep his hands busy enough to keep his mind busy, too.

He sits bolt upright. Remembers, suddenly, the bleach and hair dye he’s almost positive Robin left here. 

It doesn’t take him long to find. He’d organized them, without even realizing, nestled them between all of Steve’s bottles and jars and potions. 

Never one for instructions, Eddie remembers Steve mixing the bleach with something else before he smeared it over Robin’s hair. 

It was white. He remembers that much. Thick and gloopy. Like… conditioner?

He mixes the two together in an old Tupperware with a toothbrush, the smell sort of making his eyes water. 

He can’t see much of the back of his head, but he’s just getting the ends, anyways. 

Eventually the toothbrush becomes cumbersome, and he massages the last of it in with his fingers. 

He’s pretty glad that part goes quick because after a minute he can feel his cuticles begin to burn. 

He remembers Steve wrapping Robin’s hair in a plastic bag, and he finds one, eventually, has to fish out a crumpled receipt but sticks that over his head. And waits.

He forgot about the waiting part. That he’d have to sit here while the bleach did its thing and then again when he puts on the red. 

He sits on the toilet with the lid down, picking at his firey cuticles. The clock in the hallway reads nearly 5 a.m., which means Eddie has at least four more hours to kill. 

He goes through their drawers again, wondering if Steve maybe has a different color hiding around. He thinks green would be cool. Maybe pink.

But Eddie doesn’t find another color. He finds, instead, his sewing kit. And he thinks of all the goofy tattoos his has. The goofy tattoos he gave himself. His dice. His Tree of Gondor. His triceratops. And, really, how it’s a shame he hasn’t gotten one for Steve. 

He knows what he’s doing and where before he even has all the supplies, snapping a ballpoint into a small dish and sterilizing the needle with his lighter. He shaves his inner thigh and washes out the bleach from his hair, which is a little underwhelming, honestly, having done little to lighten his dark locks. 

He puts the red in regardless, puts his plastic bag hat back on and gets to work on his thigh. 

And that’s how Jeff finds him. Appearing, in Eddie’s bathroom doorway, two coffee cups in hand. He takes in the plastic bag, smeared with red, on his head, Eddie’s bald and inky leg.

Eddie has no idea what time it is.

He looks down at himself. “I think Steve is… 86% of my impulse control.” 

Jeff doesn’t say anything. Just rests the coffees on the sink and crouches to look at Eddie’s fresh ink. 

“Is that… hairspray?”

“Three puffs!” Eddie answers, a little deliriously, and dips the needle back into the ink to start the third said puff. “How’d you get in here?” He asks, not taking his eyes off the needle. 

“How do you always forget you gave me a key?” Jeff snorts, and then, a little softer, adds, “Steve asked me to swing by before your shift today, you know. Bring you some food.”

Eddie’s gaze flicks to the coffee as he dips his needle in again. “I only see caffeine, here, Williams.”

Jeff’s quiet for a moment before, “how about you finish that up, wash that dye from your hair, and then I’ll give you the food?” Jeff’s voice is still all gentle and obnoxious, and Eddie resists the urge of poking him with the needle.

But Eddie’s almost done with the last puff, anyways, and… breakfast does sound nice. 

“‘M almost done.” He mumbles. 

Jeff sits on the bathroom floor, sipping his coffee and watching Eddie finishes. Then he helps him untangle the plastic bag from his hair. Then makes sure whatever soap they have is unscented, makes sure whatever Eddie’s about to slather all over his thigh won’t turn it septic. 

Damn paramedics. 

In the shower, though, Eddie’s exhaustion starts to creep up on him. Four days with little sleep makes his eyelids droop in the warmth. Makes his shoulders sag as he washes the dye out of his hair. Makes his limbs heavy as he cleans his new tattoo, which, looks pretty damn good, if he does say so himself.

A can of hairspray. Three puffs. 

Eddie towels off, only a little disappointed that the dye didn’t do much. He can see it, a little, but only if the light hits it just right.

Jeff’s waiting for him with a greasy breakfast sandwich and coffee, and Eddie bites into it before he’s even seated, moaning at the taste. 

“Jesus.” Jeff mutters, “let’s wait until Steve gets back for that, okay?”

Eddie doesn’t have the energy to bite back, just takes another bite before he swallows the first. “Fank ‘oo,” Eddie grunts, word garbled around egg and sausage and cheese. He swallows. Looks down at his hands. “For.” The skin of his inner thigh is pink. “Everything.” He takes another bite. 

Jeff smiles. “And miss whatever disaster just happened in your bathroom? Not a chance, Munson.” He puts down his coffee cup. “I did call you in sick from work today, though. Just so you know.”

Eddie drops his sandwich. “Jeff!” Egg flies across the table. “What the fuck!”

Jeff raises his eyebrows and dusts Eddie’s food from his shirt. “You can barely keep your eyes open. I’m protecting you from dropping a car on yourself during a tire rotation.”

Eddie swallows, hands already twitching, “dude. I’m gonna go insane here by myself.”

Jeff raises his other eyebrow.

“More insane.” Eddie corrects. His leg starts to bounce.

“Good thing I’m gonna be keeping you company, then.” Jeff leans back in his chair, picking up his coffee and tilting the styrofoam at Eddie. “Movie marathon?”

Between he and Steve they only have about three decent movies, but Eddie finishes his sandwich on the couch as Jeff fiddles with the VCR. 

The movie begins, and that wave of exhaustion returns. Floods him. It’s hard to keep his eyes open. He leans into Jeff’s side. Who isn’t Steve, but who smells nice. Like linen.

Jeff rests his cheek on Eddie’s head. “Sleep, man.” He mumbles.

So Eddie does.

He doesn’t know how long he was asleep. But he wakes to a hand in his hair. To fingers massaging his scalp, and he knows before he even asks. “‘Teve?”

“Hi, baby.” Steve whispers, his hand stills, and he pulls Eddie closer. 

Steve feels so good. Warm and strong and here and here. 

Eddie opens his eyes only to bury himself in Steve’s chest, his boyfriend falling back onto the couch to accommodate, his arms winding around Eddie’s middle. 

“I missed you.” Eddie murmurs, and breathes Steve in, presses his nose into his sweatshirt and curls closer, fists his hands into Steve’s clothes and holds on tight.

“I missed you, too.” Steve sighs. He sounds tired. “Let’s… not do that again.”

Eddie shakes his head. “Never again.” He agrees. 

Steve shifts, opens his legs so Eddie falls between them. “I played hooky on the all-hands luncheon today.” Steve admits, quiet. “Didn’t feel like sitting around with them all day when I could be here with you.” Steve’s hand returns to his hair, twirling the strands between his fingers. “Did you… dye your hair?”

“N’ got a tattoo.” Eddie hums.

Steve giggles, and kisses the top of Eddie’s head. “I like it.” Steve’s fingers dance across his scalp, and Eddie never wants to go another night without this. 

“I like you.” Eddie volleys back, and he feels Steve laugh, feels it rumble through his chest because Steve is here and he’s laughing and then there’s another kiss placed on Eddie’s head before Steve murmurs, “I like you too, baby.”

My permanent tag list 💗: @hotluncheddie @hitlikehammers @hbyrde36 @littlewildflowerkitten @chaotic-waffle

@westifer-dead @perseus-notjackson @finntheehumaneater @theheadlessphilosopher @spectrum-spectre

@itsall-taken @marvel-ous-m @bookworm0690 @acasualcrossfade

(Sorry taglist that you’re getting tagged late I’m still getting used to tumblrs new STUPID TAGGING SYSTEM)

[beautifulblackbutterflies]

Fanfiction writing is a wild experience. You control the narrative, you control the characters, and yet they sometimes grow a mind of their own. Like, how did we go from—

Katalina (OC): *exists*

Grimmjow:

To them basically not being able to function without properly without each other.

Like, she was just supposed to be a foil/annoyance, not a love interest and ten years later, boom. I have the longest running, functional-ish relationship I've ever written (and seeing as these two are fuckin' problematic 90% of the time, what does that say about me??) 🫣🤣

[daughter-s-of-cain]

[gallusrostromegalus]

So, Bleach has an interesting language phenomenon that gets glossed over in favor of moving the plot along (a perfectly reasonable authorial decision), but I think has world building potential:

The Karakura kids and Shinigami all speak Japanese- they have Japanese names (even Chad), and call their Zanpakuto and flashy attacks Japanese names.

The arrancar have a variety of name origins, but all live in Las Noches, and call their special attacks and military rankings Spanish names, so it's reasonable to assume they're all speaking Spanish.

The Quincy again have a variety of names but are VERY German, with German weapons, ranks, techniques etc.

...but everyone can trash talk everyone else without a language barrier. How's that work?

[hoebrowsalad]

this might be controversial but SUKUNA WHOOOOOOOOO -

grimmjow jaegerjaquez / bleach

[beautifulblackbutterflies]

I only do this all the time. Where's Katalina? Oh yeah, in my sketchbook/hard drive😅

You ever watching a show you made an oc (original character) for and your waiting for them to show up then you remember they don’t canonically exist in said show.

Been watching Bleach and I made an oc and I keep waiting for her to show up, then she doesn’t.

I’m like wtf then oh right she doesn’t exist outside of my head my bad oops.



[rainmacaroni]

Ribbon & Raggedy Cloth