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❣ i fucking d a r e you

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#ivory-insanity #[ ask || crack my ribs open to find a heart ]#[ sexta || teeth and claw to eat you raw ]#grimm vc; yeah horns or nah horns???

@ivory-insanity ,, starter .

The night had fallen - LIKE HIM. Nnoitra’s black wings looked even darker now in the moonlight. He was sitting on a tall gravestone, long legs swinging idly in the air. He was both bored and frustrated. This day hadn’t brought him ANY closer to figure out where he was supposed to go. ALL he wanted was for HELL to open up to him - or Heaven to let him back in. But the Gates of Hell stayed shut, and with his black wings - he couldn’t fly. Couldn’t reach the Heaven that he had fallen from. Another feather loosened from his wing, and got caught by the light evening breeze, falling softly to the ground. The most difficult thing about his situation was that he really didn’t know how to get out of it. He didn’t know who he could talk to. He had been hanging around the cemetery the whole day, and those who had come to visit ( not many people had ) had been TERRIFIED to see him. All except an older woman, who had asked him if he was Death. He had told her no, and she had offered him a part of her lunch which she had brought with her to eat in front of her husband’s grave. But when Nnoitra accepted the bread she handed him, it had turned to ash in his hands. That’s right. He was CURSED.

An eerie feeling crept down his spine, and he found himself turning his head on instinct. His single eye fell upon a figure. Had he not memorized every single statue in this graveyard, he would’ve mistaken the person for one. Was it--- A person? There was certainly something different about him. Something evil. Nnoitra remained perched on the gravestone, but didn’t take his eye off the stranger. Eventually, he broke the silence, because he was pretty sure he knew what he was looking at -

❝ Yer a demon, ain’t ‘cha? ❞

#ivory-insanity #ivoryinsanity #[ finally here is this! ]#[ exciting! ]#[ fallen angel nnoitra meeting a demon ]#[ h e l l yes ]#ᵈᵉˢᵖᵃᶤʳ ;; ic.#ᶠᵃˡˡ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵍʳᵃᶜᵉ ;; au.16.#gif //

ivory-insanity replied to your post “��-Favorite pet name they like to be called?”

B A B E?

#ivory-insanity #ivoryinsanity #{THE DISSONANCE}

A FROWN crossed the girl’s expression as a stranger stopped the closing elevator doors and joined her. Her position shifted from front and center to the very corner, keeping her eyes locked on her feet to avoid awkward eye contact.

A sudden JERK snapped Sayaka’s attention off her dirty school shoes, lips parted and let out such a small gasp.

A grief seed had LODGED itself in a way to prevent the elevator from moving. Black ‘smog’ filled the small space, a WITCH was about to be born.

-- HOW?

Instinctively, she reached for her pocket, still avoiding contact with the stranger. Her hand outstretched, revealing a glowing blue gem. With just a FLASH of blue light her outfit had changed completely, the gem no longer in her hand, but rather in a decorative holder in place of her bellybutton. Within her hand, now a sword.

FINALLY her eyes found the stranger.

❛ Fate decided we’re gonna make a detour -- Whenever that hatches, will you trust me? ❜

@ivory-insanity

#ivory-insanity #sayaka is my fav because she's heroic #but in a bad way i love it #i hope this is fine ?#i didn't want to make it too long #magical girl! ( 𝖣𝖤𝖥𝖠𝖴𝖫𝖳 𝖵𝖤𝖱𝖲𝖤 ).

🌂

Headcanon Prompts🌂 = How many layers of clothes does your muse prefer to wear in colder seasons?Ichigo“A sweater. Or a jacket, depending on how cold it is…”Don’t let him fool you. He wears as many layers possible in the winter and about three in the fall. Ichigo loves layers. It looks nice, but it’s mostly the warmth. He loves winter since he can wear a sweater in the house and curl up. It’s also a subconscious comfort, like the more layers he wears, the easier he can hide behind them all.Shiro“Layers? As in more clothin’? Ain’ tha’ heavy?”Poor, confused murder-baby. His Shihakusho keeps him plenty warm, but maybe he’ll be a little shit and steal Ichigo’s sweaters. Usually, Shiro doesn’t feel cold, but when he does, you can expect him to put his freezing hands on the back of Ichigo’s neck to warm them up. Toasty~

#ask #answered #ivory-insanity

he was out. they were out. they were finally out of that godforsaken hospital. of course, they still had to go to whatever therapy the annoying doctors recommended, but it meant ichigo wasn't basically strapped to a bed as his muscles atrophied. it was just one of those days when shirosaki came with him to watch. he wanted to see him in action again, but ... "can't this go any faster? you'll be weak for the next year if this is how it is." only ichigo could hear him but still.

@ivory-insanity

‘ Alrighty, Kurosaki-kun, that’s enough. Take a break. ’

The therapist placed a hand on his back, firmly, as if to keep him from attempting another push-up. It wouldn’t exactly be out of line, really, considering Ichigo tended to have the drive to push himself as hard as he could go before it became physically painful to continue—and sometimes even beyond that threshold—if he was left with too lax supervision.

Nonetheless, Ichigo nodded, letting his knees drop to the mats. With a little help, he found himself on his feet once more and led…somewhere. Exhausted from the exertion, he didn’t really pay it much mind. There was a pressure on his shoulders that some part of his brain was alert enough to recognize as a cue to sit down because he found himself sitting soon afterward on the benches that ran along the wall of the place.

The guy, thankfully, chose that moment to go get something—he said it before he left but Ichigo could hardly make out whatever he was saying over the pounding of his own heartbeat in his ears—so he was left alone for the moment to listen to Shiro voice his displeasure at his progress. Strange how he couldn’t hear his trainer telling him possibly vital information, but he could hear Shiro complain just fine. Then again, he’d been conditioned to only listen to his hollow alone for all those months… so it shouldn’t exactly be all that surprising.

“ You know… it can’t… ” Sweat poured down the teen’s face as he dragged in ragged pants of breath. Exhaustion penetrated his entire body right down to the bone. He should have brought a water bottle with him. Normally he did… He wasn’t really sure why he forgot it today. He’d have to get one from the vending machine by the locker room… “ They’re barely letting me… go at this pace… ”

If his doctors had their way, he wouldn’t be allowed to do more than light yoga for the next month. His father had only barely convinced the other doctor to sign off on more intensive workouts once a week if only to keep Ichigo from going insane from restlessness or risking him going off on his own and hurting himself in the process. It was something Ichigo was immensely thankful for…even if he couldn’t help but privately agree with his Hollow on the matter.

it was going far too slow for his taste.

At this pace, it would be ages before he was back to his former self. He understood that his body needed time to heal after atrophying to nearly skin and bones under Shiro’s hellish training, but at the same time, he couldn’t stand it.

Every minute he spent getting worn out doing yoga and only a handful of sets of basic exercises frustrated him to no end. Sure he was glad to be out of his goddamn hospital bed and able to walk and move around relatively freely again, but fuck… Seeing himself look so physically weak and sickly in the mirror every day made his skin crawl. It triggered such a sense of visceral dysmorphia, he couldn’t bear it. He wanted his normal body back already.

“ We’ve… We’ve just gotta stick it out ‘til I stop… stop looking like a goddamn stick… ”

#ivoryinsanity #(Words of the Black Sun: IC)#(v: psychological terror)#ivory-insanity #「 answered asks 」

ivory-insanity replied to your photo “Just a quick manga cap color & edit!! || HC: In college, Ichigo grows...”

Noodle Shiro is my Shiro