midnightactual:
“… It’s almost like we have an imposter among us.”
“ ‘M not even in the fuckin’ gigai. The hell’re you on about? ”
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@caeruleus-excidium
midnightactual:
“… It’s almost like we have an imposter among us.”
“ ‘M not even in the fuckin’ gigai. The hell’re you on about? ”
“I don’t know, man—you’ve been seeming sus lately.”
“ ... ”
“ What the hell does that even mean. ”
whoa
“you almost died.”
❝ No I didn’t, fuck off! ❞
Karin is absolutely cackling to his right and the plastic of the controller in his hands creaks beneath the grip of his fingers, and he still doesn’t really understand how this damn thing works but he’s pretty sure if he presses this button hard enough he’ll win. His hand that isn’t mashing the same button again and again shoves the smaller girl in the shoulder, sending her careening into the couch cushions.
Not a moment later, Karin howls in victory as she sends the big dragon? turtle? thing he’d been controlling flying off the screen in a burst of light and the tiny blue controller that had been suffering in his grip flies past Ichigo’s head and smacks against the opposite wall.
❝ Fuck this game, I’m not playin’ with you anymore ya’ brat! ❞
post - trauma sentence starters blood, death mention.
“don’t do that. don’t shut me out.”
“you’ve been crying. i can tell.”
“we need to change those bandages and get some food in you.”
“you want me to rub your back ’til you fall asleep?”
“that was a brave thing you did today.”
“shh, that’s okay, get everything out.”
“there’s something on your shirt. you – that’s blood!”
“need some space?”
“you should lay down.”
“there’s nothing wrong with asking for help.”
“shh, shh. you were having a nightmare.”
“we can talk through the door.”
“let’s clean you up and get you to bed, okay?”
“you almost died.”
“i brought you a blanket.”
“you’re home. you’re safe.”
“i’m worried about you.”
“is everything okay?”
“tell me how to make it better.”
“it’s been a tough few days. how are you holding up?”
“you have to stay awake. come on, give my hand a squeeze.”
“you’re in the hospital.”
“think you can make it to the bathroom?”
“no, no. don’t close your eyes.”
cineraceous replied to your post: ��!
a cranky arrancar, apparently!
Yer’ commentary isn’t needed.
👀!
the fuck are you lookin’ at
🔪 fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you
meme: send me 🔪 to stab my muse.not accepting! ( i was asked and who am i to deny an opportunity to stab mayuri :^) )
@caeruleus-excidium
He hated it when subjects grew rowdy.He hated it when they decided that they should fight back.
“H’oh.”
Pain receptors were marginally low, and he supposed he should be thanking himself for that. Admittedly, the attack had caught him somewhat off-guard. A hand claw had swiped at him (aiming directly for the neck. maybe he would’ve been better off if he had let that be the target.) for him to dodge away from only for another to strike. It was a precise and direct hit, one that the Twelfth could’ve complimented on if he weren’t in such an amazingly strange predicament.
Fingers had gouged into his right eye, Mayuri could feel them. The index and middle digits were piercing through the white, already causing for crimson and red to spurt in anticlimactic fashion before cascading down painted, warped features. He’s breathing deep, as if this endeavor had knocked the wind out of him.
It was surely the opposite, however.
Swallowing back the urge to laugh, the scientist had no choice but to stand with his knees lightly shaking from the immense shock his body’s been forced to acknowledge. Did it hurt? Did it agonize? Did it terrify him?
Hardly, but he could not ignore the damage that has been done.
“You are… taking a major risk,” he paused to inhale, other eye pinching shut as he could feel sharp nail of ring finger scrape at its corner, “Grimmjow.”
He supposed he should have applauded him for the effort. He’s managed to hit him– leave a mark of sorts, and this would surely be one for the history books if Mayuri were that kind of person sort. Despite this, he’s found it all so funny.
(i should be thankful that he chose this particular eye.)
They stood in silence, tense and quiet.
The arrancar wore a look of silent fury while Mayuri had dared to grin. Dual rows of teeth gnashed and clicked, grinding against one another to force wordless contemplation before he allowed for one, croaky chuckle to escape.
By then, he shamelessly chose to break the silence.
“Would you like to hear a fact? A fun fact, if you will.”
“Truth be told, I despise people like you.”
Arms hung limp at sides. He could feel the fingers squirm, vaguely writhing as if to test and tease for how much space they had left within his skull. An eerie, ticklish feeling it was for him to feel but not alien. He’s felt more and so much worse, experimented in inhumane and intrusive ways on himself just to simply see what would happen.
This? It was nothing but a mere setback.
The pain should have been unimaginable. The pain should have been intolerable. The pain should have had him writhing, howling, and choking. All it did, though, was provide him with a fair amount of entertainment.
“Are you, perhaps, trying to repay to me for what I did all those months back?”
(i am quite lucky, in fact, that it was this eye.)
“My, my… I didn’t think you were capable of remembering that far back.”
As exposed nails of fingers pinched and stung into sensitive skin, Mayuri tasted the brassy taste of blood on both tongue and lips. This was such a familiar sensation that he’d make no comment, but he’d make it evident that this was not his first time at removing a precious organ.
“It’s unfortunate that you aimed at the wrong side.”
ᴡʜᴀᴛ's ʏᴏᴜʀ sᴏᴄɪᴀʟ ʟɪɴᴋ?
--; THE EMPEROR.
The Arcana is the means by which all is revealed. The Arcana is the means by which all is revealed... Only courage in the face of doubt can lead one to the answer..." Emperor symbolizes the desire to control one's surroundings, and its appearance could suggest that one is trying too hard to achieve this, possibly causing trouble for others; some elements in life are just not controllable. Often times, you are troubled by something very personal, and don't know how to deal with it.
--> tagged by; @sacrumflorem --> tagging; @wind-bladed and whoever else lol
♛ —;; Anger and Rage are, psychologically, secondary emotions. In essence, they are a a constant fight response in the fight or flight scenario, brought about either concurrently or in periods of time after an incident or trigger that causes one humiliation, regret, shame, causes insecurities, feelings of helplessness, guilt, anxiety, sadness, despair, etc.
Grimmjow’s aspect of death is also destruction. Because of the nature of the aspects of the Espada hold, it can be inferred that the reasoning behind Grimmjow’s death was possibly self destruction; his appearances within the series are frequently punctuated with his own reckless attempts at proving himself to be stronger than others (because of the base need of survival; you are either stronger than someone or you die, especially within Hueco Mundo and Las Noches; this is especially apparent with the likes of Nnoitra and his ‘survival of the fittest’ attitude, which is very much applicable to the other members of the Espada and even other arrancar/hollows) are proof of his own tendencies for self destruction. Grimmjow continuously fights until he physically cannot move any more, as apparent with the final fight with Ichigo in which he refused to stop fighting until he was literally forced to do so, even in his severely weakened state.
Pair this with the thought that was placed within his head by his fracción of being a ruler/king. Before his fracción placed this ideal onto him, there is no canonical evidence of Grimmjow regarding himself in such a manner. When we first see Grimmjow (chronologically, not his first appearnce in the series), he lacks the fury that is his general trademark; instead, we see the cool indifference that is generally associated with him outside of any sort of battle setting. Though under the constant threat of regression, there is no direct threat to him. He is strong enough that, in most cases, a fight used to facilitate feeding was not inherently one of life and death. When he was given his so called ‘title’, a weight was put upon his shoulders that was not there before and that he never particularly realized was actually there. Now, instead of only proving his strength to himself, he had the expectations of others to live up to as well-- which means another layer of failure is possible.
When he loses his fracción in the failed raid, we really begin to see the development of his fury. Because of the regret and shame of losing them, as well as the humiliation from Aizen, we truly see how much his anger can bloom. Without canon information about the goings on of Las Noches, especially in regards to Grimmjow, it’s difficult to tell how much of this development happens ‘off camera’, although I believe that it is heavily implied that Aizen uses highly abusive ways in which to discipline/keep the arrancar ‘in line’.
We also only ever see these emotions further whenever he ‘loses’ or his ability/strength is brought into question. Again; humiliation, shame, regret. There are constant cycles throughout Grimmjow’s appearances in the series and serve as a consistent fuel for his violently defensive mannerisms.
With my own development of his character as well, he holds a deep sadness over his loss of purpose, as well as the realization that his ‘purpose’ is paper-thin at best. He feels incredibly lost; when he spends too long thinking about, he becomes very volatile. In reality, it’s largely anger directed at himself as well as the situation his secondary ‘life’ has put him in.
tl;dr-- grimmjow is an abuse victim and actually full of self hatred and those are far from an excuse for his shitty behavior but they are at least partially a catalyst lmao
:0
what’re you lookin’ at like that for
bold what your muse can do. italicize for something they can do to some extent. repost, do not reblog. [in my case, I’m adding a * for things he could only do in his past life, not currently, because there’s a lot of those.]
bake a cake from scratch / ride a horse / drive a submarine / speak a second language / dance / catch a fish / play an instrument / throw a punch / build a deck / ice skate / * unclog a drain / program a computer / * change a flat tire / * fire a gun / sew / juggle / * play poker / paint / * fly a kite / sculpt / write poetry / change a diaper / sing / shoot a bow and arrow / * ride a bike / * swim / sail a boat / do a backflip / play chess / give cpr / * pitch a tent / flirt / stitch a wound / read palms / use chopsticks / write in cursive/calligraphy / use an electric drill / braid hair / * make a campfire / make a mixed drink / do sudoku puzzles / wrap a gift / give a good massage / * jump start a car / roll their tongue / do magic tricks / do yoga / tie a tie / skip a rock / shuffle a deck of cards / read morse code / * pick a lock / * fly a plane / train a dog/cat / fix a car / apologize / write a business letter / write in a second language / say the alphabet backwards / read music / cook complex meals / change oil / paint nails / draw / socialize / march / * take apart a gun / drive a rig / operate a tank / climb a tree / rock climb / tie a cherry stem / basic first aid / draw blood / put out a fire
tagged by: @wind-bladed
tagging: lol just yoink it from me
ooc post from my phone so it's not formatted but just a reminder that since coming back im very open to interactions, its just that i ask you to please be understanding of my reply speed as i'm typically anywhere between 10 and 14 hours time difference from anyone in the states (as in its 1am for me rn) and im also working a full time job lol
his legs are draped over grimmjow's while he sits leaned against the wall, his guitar sitting in his lap as he lazily plucks the strings. grimmjow seems content to take up the majority of the bed vertically. "do you sleep better when i play or something?" he asks, somewhat teasing.
A low grunt, and a moment later one arm shifts slightly from where it had been thrown over the arrancar’s eyes, just enough so that one of them can open with a seemingly herculean effort to glance back at Ichigo and the small, private smile on his face. In truth he really had been half asleep; the mattress familiar and comfortable beneath him and the sun’s rays seeping in through the window warming his middle despite the slowly dying chill of spring. Brain sluggish, he doesn’t really think about his response at all, though it does come out a bit grumpy at being even semi-woken up.
“Just sleep better when’m here,” he grumbles, arm falling back into its previous position with a deep sigh. Sleep far from completely gone, it tugs at the corners of his brain like a heavy blanket. “You already knew that.”
There’s a safety here that lets him sleep. He’d easily became spoiled to it; though the effects are still very much the same as the first time he’d slept here-- deeply and without paranoia, without the need to constantly be alert. His muscles settle heavier into the mattress like welcoming an old friend, though he can’t help but crack a small grin.
“The guitar helps, though.”
"listen, i know this shirt probably looks kind of dumb, but my sister made it, okay? you have to wear it. she'll be sad if you don't."
Even looking at the thing makes his skin crawl; disdain would be putting the look on the arrancar’s face lightly. Why him? Why not Ichigo? Any other time he would poke the substitute in the ribs for replacing him as the youngest Kurosaki’s favourite but in this case-- he’s not entirely sure he appreciates the position. Whatever it’s made up looks itchy, and the only discernible patterns are weird blue little-- are those hearts.
He wants to die. Again. Not even a little bit. Entirely.
It looks absolutely huge too (although it doesn’t take much to dwarf his relatively thin frame, the broadness of his shoulders be damned), but all in weird ways; like it can’t make up its mind what size it wants to be. It’s clearly an early venture into something other than repairing a seam or a hole, but it bars him from the ‘it’s too small’ excuse incredibly easily.
There’s an increasingly long silence permeating the room, in which he hopes his thoughts are loud enough and glare terrible enough that the thing spontaneously combusts. He’s never been that lucky though so it’s no wonder he’s not in this case either.
A long suffering sigh.
“An hour. Tops. That’s it. If I gotta stay in that thing any longer I’m lettin’ this shitty gigai fall like a pile a’ bricks in your living room.”