#hewhoprotects

[bazz-b]

oh SHIT it’s ya boy tom

[mashirokiiick]

@hewhoprotects​

"BERRY-TAAAN!!”

“—Go buy me some chips, or I’ll start kicking!”

[shitenkoushun]

hewhoprotects replied to your post:

"Pick a flavor."

“Pickled plum and bonito!” Technically more than one flavor, but they tasted best together, obviously.

[deivorous]

I spent 12 hours driving today and then answered an ask for why grimm stabs people in the tummy and that is all i have the strength for today. I'll finish replies tomorrow!

The mun, Plou

[glacialdeath]

@hewhoprotects [starter]

The gash upon her forehead had dribbled blood right near her eye, even now after the fight seemed to be over, with her breath heavy from the effort the fight took out of her, her right eye is remained in a squint to try and prevent her vision from being tainted in crimson. “Fool, you were slow. I already took care of it.” Her words are braggy, but they surely don’t match her condition as she nearly falls into him, her head knocking into his side with her leg finally feeling the burn, as if her body thinks that it’s relieved of it’s duty now that it knows he is here. She doesn’t verbally acknowledge her own clumsiness nor her dependency there however, remaining focused on more important matters. “Don’t worry. This isn’t as bad as it looks.” She brings the sleeve of her shihakusho to her forehead, finally wiping at the particular wound there, allowing herself to peer at him properly to try and assure him before she begins to try and repair a large claw wound upon her calve. “There could be another, so stay alert-- Or do you need me to take care of that one too?”

[shitenkoushun]

@hewhoprotects​

The sun sank low into the horizon, shadows stretching the expanse of destruction; a scar across Soul Society, destroyed buildings giving way to ruin like teeth gnashing raw flesh. A passing breeze carried with it flecks of debris, and the heavy odor of blood and decay. Errant strands of her ginger hair caught in the wind, tossed in ash; tossed in death. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered if the scent would ever come out.

Her body felt heavy with fatigue, head throbbing beneath the itch of dried blood caked at her temples, on her forehead. Despite Renji and Rukia’s protests about her own injuries, she grit her teeth and made her way to Ichigo’s side. Each step was arduous, but she persisted. Her skirts (once white as bone, now stained in war) pooled beneath her as she knelt at his side.

It’ll be okay, she thought, I’ll bring you back. With trembling fingertips, Orihime poised her hands just above his unconscious body.

“ — Soten Kisshun.”

[shitenkoushun]

✈

MEMORY MEME / ✈ AN EYE-OPENING MEMORY

Her face burns red, her lips part as if to begin to form any number of words, as if to catch her breath, and yet she struggles to speak because nothing quite seems enough. She stares at him, bewildered, overwhelmed, and so terribly fond. For all her reveries and flights of fancy, she never once dreamed he might return her affection in kind. Much less, profess it himself. To her. Right here. Right now.  He’s blushing too, she notices, and Orihime can’t help but to wonder if its not the only feeling they share; if he feels the fluttering in his ribcage and all the knots untwisting in his stomach and his pulse thundering in his ears and making all his thoughts too much and not enough at the same time.

His hands are rough and calloused, with the shape of Zangetsu’s hilt worn into either palm, and his skin is patched together with old scar tissue and fresh scabs, and there’s barely visible freckles on each knuckle of each finger; Orihime knows because she’s spent countless times with stars in her eyes, tracing constellations between them. Her hands are softer, gentler, but she’s got scars of her own. She used to bite her nails, but finds now that she doesn’t fall back on the anxious habit so much anymore. And she is deeply surprised by how well her hand fits in Ichigo’s. His grip is strong, his unwavering gaze stronger, and it’s enough to convey more than words that he never wants to let her go. 

She squeezes his hands, as if to cement them both in their reality with a gesture kinder than a pinch to the arm, as if to return his sentiment tenfold. Her eyes, warm like honey, melt as she answers breathlessly, “Me too. Always.”

[deivorous]

@hewhoprotects answered your ask

To say he shrieked wouldn’t be 100% accurate. Noise certainly tried to escape, but it lodged firm in his throat, body instead curling into a ball under the blankets to compensate. Perhaps it was his better senses telling him to keep pretending he wasn’t home. Maybe Grimmjow would just… go away?

Grimmjow kicks at the window again, and then, at Kurosaki’s disrespect (refusing to open the window for him? Who does he think he is? Grimmjow will level this whole fucking house for Kurosaki.) he steps right though the wall, spirit particles shifting through brick, to balance on the small sill over his prey.

“I said, I know you’re in here.”