blake kathryn
d e v o n
Three Goblin Art
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DEAR READER
Andulka
Stranger Things
we're not kids anymore.
if i look back, i am lost
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KIROKAZE
i don't do bad sauce passes
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pixel skylines
Mike Driver
One Nice Bug Per Day
Kiana Khansmith
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taylor price
Origami Around
seen from Malaysia
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@grimm-pantera
I AM THE KING.
grimmjow main. 24. multi-ship.
open rp. 18+ users only.
semi-literate - advanced.
‘ Rules . . . 🐾
last edited: july 11th 2024 || wolf. 24. (jan. 18). he/him. gmt +2. || I do editing, rp, and writing - irl I’m a musician and work in a le
🕯️
‘ Another shinigami? They look like they all come in the same package. I can’t stand that pretentious look in his eyes …’ 💭 to Byakuya Kuchiki
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀. ⠀ ⠀. ⠀ ⠀.⠀ ⠀
The desolate expanse of the sanded earth seemed to shudder, its emptiness yawning wider like a chasm as a new void took hold and loomed over them. It was a creeping, insidious force, spreading its dark tendrils across the terrain like a cancer, its presence infused with an unholy hunger. The panther hollow had sensed it, its primal instincts attuned to the call of the beast that lurked within, a power that resonated deeply within its own being. Yet, they were oblivious to the true extent of its reach, the devastating consequences that could unfold if it were allowed to encroach further.
In the dimly lit, ornate chamber that once served as the gathering place for the Espada, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez sat alone, surrounded by the empty seats that now seemed like a cruel reminder of their dwindling numbers. The war had taken its toll, and the Arrancar who had lost interest in the realm's affairs had only hastened their decline. The air was heavy with the weight of past conflicts, the room itself a painful reminder of the fragility of their existence.
Grimmjow's gaze was fixed on some distant point, his eyes narrowed in thought as he reclined in his chair, the only sound the soft creaking of the old marble frame. The hours of deliberation with Halibel, Nelliel, and the few remaining Arrancar who still cared had yielded little in the way of concrete answers. Instead, they had been left with more questions, their concerns and fears hanging in the balance like a precarious seesaw.
It had begun a month ago in their timeless wasteland, when the first sightings of a strange presence had started to circulate and disappearance of the cannibalistic hollows reeled their ugly heads within the world of the living. The Arrancar, ever vigilant, had scoured the lands, seeking answers to the enigmatic decline of Hollows and Gillian— how they could be escaping to the humans realm and why. But their efforts had yielded nothing, only serving to underscore the unsettling feeling that they were no longer masters of their own domain.
Grimmjow's thoughts were aflame with indignation, his eyes flashing with a fierce blue light as he recalled Halibel's words. 'Clean up the mess,' she had said, as if it were a simple matter of tidying up a minor disturbance. Hueco Mundo hung precariously in the balance of it all. Halibel had the audacity to suggest that he, of all people, should venture into the world of the living, to sniff out the source of this chaos and put an end to it. The Queen's words still rankled, her assertion that they would have acted sooner if they had known about the Quincy sooner a cruel reminder of their own failures. That they shouldn’t make the same mistakes again.
As Grimmjow's boot thudded against the table, the sound echoing through the silent room, he couldn't help but wonder how they had ended up in this predicament. Were they truly so blind, so obtuse, that they couldn't see the writing on the wall? The reapers and humans were always at the heart of their troubles, and yet, now they possibly continued to entice more enemies into the midst that only proved to involve the Arrancar now too, enemies who would stop at nothing to exploit the way of living within a sinners void and the beings that lurked there. The panther could only blame the flip side of the souls who’s job this precisely was, not his. Grimmjow's lips curled into a snarl, his fury simmering just below the surface. He would not make it easy for them. He would not be their lapdog, their janitor, their pawn. He would do as he was instructed, but rightfully in his own ways.
The unexplainable disappearance of their Hollows left only one conclusion: they had escaped through the Garganta, unaided by the Arrancar. But what manner of Hollow could be so obtuse, so reckless, as to abandon the familiar terrain of warfare and risk everything in the treacherous world of the living? The cannibalistic Hollows, ever driven by the desire for power, typically preyed upon each other to ascend the ranks. And yet, they had chosen to venture into the realm of the humans, where annihilation awaited. It defied comprehension, especially since he knew how they thought, as he had been on their level once before.
Grimmjow's chair scraped against the floor as he surged to his feet, his gaze blazing with intensity. The slouching posture and heavy grunt betrayed his disdain for the entire situation. He couldn't muster even a shred of concern for the hapless humans, victims of their own weaknesses. And as for the Soul Society, with their haughty superiority and condescending attitude, Grimmjow would sooner eviscerate them than extend a hand of aid.
As he strode out of the oppressive, marble-walled room, his hand instinctively settled on the hilt of his blade, his eyes flashing with a warning in anticipation. A Garganta yawned open before him without the movement of his hands, and with a languid stride, he stepped into its depths, his boots echoing through the darkness. Rising above Karakura Town, he gazed down upon the sleeping city with a jaded, world-weary expression. The silence was almost... palpable. No screams, no piercing spiritual pressure, no sense of impending doom. Could it truly be as dire as they had imagined?
Grimmjow's sneer twisted his face as he employed his Sonido to descend into the city, his movements a lazy, wrath-like glide. He would put an end to this farce, silence the whispers of uncertainty, and restore order to the Arrancar's dominion for the sake of his own sanity amongst them.
send me 🕯️to hear my character's inner thoughts about your character.
|| ☆ my personal blog
|| ☆ one of them has to be pretty
// when you’re a firm believer that Grimmjow was one of Aizen’s first and favorites
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
Happy bday ˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖
Happy Birthday to one of the Gs! How many of you likes Grimmjow? What is one of your favourite moments from the anime/manga of him?
// I’m very obsessed with drainer themes
@grimm-pantera
Azure eyes cast upon the Quincy with disdain, not affording worth in holding his tongue. “Don’t make it out to seem like I was hiding from you, we can make this quick.”
" MY , MY , AREN'T YOU a hostile one , " his slight grin is unphased , an almost serene calm amidst all the bloodshed . he'd finished delighting in carnage , and sat atop ivory , cleaning off his sword . quilge tilts the blade ever so gently , and its well-oiled blade reflects the face of the other . a visage in ferocious azure . with his own arms , he cares for like no other . a quincy's blade is sacred . and killing is a ritual .
the man turns his attention back to the arrancar .
" you're an espada , are you not ? I've read some a few reports , as a matter of fact . how curious of you to show up here .
are you looking for a fight ? something to quell that hunger inside of you , hm ? no doubt akin to your bretheren & comrades . then again , you're free to swear alligance under His Majesty's banners , and suffer a far less gruesome fate . "
The last offer caused a rather bitter scoff to escape from parted lips, just briefly humoring a simper.
—— “Wouldja blame me if I decline? After all, you’re treading your feet in my territory as if you own a right.”
Grimmjow raised his hand up as if to gesture for the Quincy’s in height of his proposal only for a quick flick of the arching joints to allow it to be enveloped in black, the fingers sheathed in large claws that stretched with a yearn to scratch. Just as Quilge would turn the blade, the panther would use half res as if it were a matching promise for battle and to shed blood for blood. Blue reached it out across from him, wielding it like a weapon.
“Only difference to my comrades is I win my fights. Instead of focusing on your reports, I’ll give you time to write your will down.”
but clearly, not very generous on how much time he would give, he already began to close the space between them with a casual stride. Eagerness with scorn overrode his features as there was no doubt to him this opponent was just the right strength to meet his match.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀. ⠀ ⠀. ⠀ ⠀.⠀ ⠀
Tread your fingers across my map, the canvas a rocky path that neither leads nor ends any which way. The jagged lines were not predetermined, but if you look at them often you’ll know every curvature in a matter of time. It’s an incomplete line, placed over like a door barely left creaked open only instead of allowing in light for comfort it sheds dark parchment like the void into the soul.
It’s the reminder of fragility, the ease on how one could be broken and split if he allows himself to be shattered. He allowed himself to break for the sake of stories, each one forever intentionally left unhealed so he couldn’t let go of his dues. In harsher and deeper views, was the punishment of self infliction necessary. Sometimes when he viewed them or hesitated to touch, he didn’t even witness what he intended to see by stubbornly owning the scars. He shocked himself upon seeing self-punishment of weakness, loathing for losing battles, repeats of reckless nature that would drive the blade into him eventually when the narratives of his destruction would end.
A topography of pain remained. There was no award for the turbulent nature, not even digging in nails to puncture into the darkness relieved those unwanted sights. The body was merely the weapon, a vessel of strength to endlessly crave exalted feeling that would never be satisfied.
Give and allow scars, the wounds were better than any words uttered. Never clean the blade to add up the stains on top of one another. Alive and numb, glorify harmony of harm. Whisper secrets without moving your lips. Red and angry they persist. Admire the resilience of life, by testing its skin.
The sharp curve of Quilge's hand rests upon his jaw, unamused. "So, you've finally come out to play, have you?"
Azure eyes cast upon the Quincy with disdain, not affording worth in holding his tongue.
“Don’t make it out to seem like I was hiding from you, we can make this quick.”
“If you keep grinning so stupidly, your face will get stuck like that.”
— and if you grow your hair out any longer you’ll get it snatched like a bitch.
cutely bites Grimmjow
— what the hell are you teething on me for?! I hope you’re aware I bite back harder!
// something quick created for Ichigo’s birthday today, my one and only favorite MC ✨🩵
This Writer 100 Percent APPROVES of Harassment of the Inbox For Any Of Their Muses!
