cherry valley forever
No title available
tannertan36
Andulka
todays bird
PR's Tumblrdome
noise dept.
No title available
oozey mess
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
Origami Around
Janaina Medeiros
JBB: An Artblog!
taylor price
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Game of Thrones Daily
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
JVL
No title available
seen from T1
seen from Spain
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Mexico
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Russia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Malaysia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Russia
seen from Croatia
seen from Yemen
@togabitox
To the tune of desolation, they will seek out DEVASTATION — feasting on annihilation, serpent messengers of SATAN
SORROW reigns down on them, to the deep they descend — sated by rotten flesh, TO THE PITS OF THE DAMNED
COMETH THE SINNERS HOWLING FROM THE JAWS OF HELL .
Ind. Sel. Priv. RP multimuse blog for Kokutō, Shuren, and Aaroniero Arruruerie from Tite Kubo’s Bleach and Bleach: Hell Verse – by REN. canon-divergent | headcanon-influenced | OC & AU friendly | 18+
“between / a predator and its / prey there is only / hunger, and desire / has no direction.”
— Yves Olade, from “Black Teeth”
@bleach-menagerie — [ cont. ]
Cheeky lil bastard. “Yeah, alright,” Kokutō retaliated with a scoff and a double positive, no affirmation and all abrasive since all he’s gotten in response was no clarity and all cheek. — Eye for an eye, yeah? Szayelaporro’s more than eager to let the whole world go blind anyway, with that cheap attempt to clear things up, but Kokutō’s no stranger to shooting in the dark. “Stop playin’ coy already.” He’s always repeating that simple request, ain’t he? Like crawling his way out of a lava pit, clawing at whatever he could reach and grabbing onto it in hopes that it’ll stick instead of crumbling at his touch, clenching his jaw and repeating it over and over again. It’s an endless cycle. Talking to Szayelaporro felt like pulling teeth sometimes. “What if it was permanent, hah? What’ll you do then?” It’s a wonder why he’s even asking him all these stupid questions, but he’s already coming back every time like a dumbass in the dark, and these were just hypotheticals. Conversation, like Szayelaporro said he liked. The dangerous kind, like he knew Szayelaporro liked. Nothing selfish about it, yeah? “Are you still gonna kill me knowin’ I ain’t comin’ back after?”
Stig Dagerman, A Moth to a Flame (Burnt Child) (trans. Benjamin Mier-Cruz)
[Text ID: “It is not true that a burnt child dreads the fire. It is drawn to it like a moth to a flame. It knows that when it goes near it, it will burn itself again. Still, it gets too close.”]
The wolf howls beneath the leaves While spitting out pretty plumes From his feast of fowl: I, like him, myself consume.
Arthur Rimbaud, “Hunger”, in A Season in Hell (via sun-death)
This guy’s more hollow than human was what Kokutō thought when he finally got to meet the Fullbringer guy that cut through Ichigo’s past in person. But first impressions could be deceiving, especially when it’s coming from someone who’s not as human as he could be — pot callin’ the kettle black, or just a wolf noticing teeth in another wolf’s mouth. Kokutō, scorched down to the bone like just another damn devil by the damn Devil himself, knew that logic would say he shouldn’t be speaking on the humanity of others, but screw it. Takes a bastard to know one, after all. And Tsukishima’s a cold-blooded bastard, energy like a damp well where you’d bury your lover and board the surface of to abandon. He’s like a makeshift grave, without any angel statues or flowers. Just ghosts and bodies.
Kokutō knew that feeling. Maybe even better than he knew the look of it.
He recalled watching the war through the flames of Hell, pushing his clairvoyance to the brink and straining to catch sight of the shit that hit the fan once that Almighty Quincy Emperor emerged from the shadows with his army in Seireitei. He had shattered Ichigo’s blade just like fate, and kept it in shards by making it so that there wasn’t any future where it was whole. It reminded Kokutō of Enma, with the way the Great King of Hell could steal names and futures just like that, past and cycle of reincarnation be damned. But this more hollow than human Fullbringer could cut through something even the Quincy God couldn’t, and now Kokutō’s dying to know.
“Hey,” he called out after breaking the ice of his thoughts, cocking his head to the side and bearing his stigmata with his chains. “Think you can cut this?”
@bookofaion
“When we’re most intense—who’ll flinch?”
— Arthur Rimbaud, from Selected Poems & Prose; “Phrases,”
tough love
The Iceland volcano back to life last Sept 11th! [1536 × 1920] [OC] - Author: DanZafra_photography on reddit
What a beautiful name. It belongs to me now.
You were not there. You did not see the craft with which I got lost.
Jennifer Chang, from “Terra Incognito”, Some Say the Lark (via voirlvmer)
sphaeraa:
“Just one sin?”
Only one? Ah–even if he could alternate and ultimately choose between a myriad of options, where would be the satisfaction in him for that? There wouldn’t be any. Not as far as he could see. He wanted all of them, or none. So, the Hōgyoku’s vessel bowed his head, the gesture not unlike that of a predator that had locked its inquisitive appetite on something new, and perhaps worthwhile. Lips parted as a breath flooded his lungs, and expelled in the form of an amused chuckle, followed by elaboration.
“I don’t think settling for one, or even just a couple of these ‘circles’ will satisfy me… I didn’t come here for partial-rewards… Having said that, I prefer the collective.”
“Sounds like greed.” Kokutō’s quick on the uptake, on his toes even if this conversation’s not like the physical fights he fancied himself. Words could be wars too, even worse than an actual fist fight, and he didn’t call that good sense paranoia when it’s anything but that. He’s reactive, built like an alarm system with its wired underbelly exposed and ready to set off ringing if anything got too close.
And this guy’s close, stalking with his head low and poised to strike like a viper. Or maybe like a god. Kokutō couldn’t recall snake eyes ever looking like that, something like galaxies, but looks were deceptive even if they looked like something holy. Must be like scales, then. Pretty til the poison kicked in, and Kokutō knew about venom like he knew about hunger, especially in this infernal shithole where resentment coursed through him like searing ichor. Maybe all gods were hungry like snakes, stomachs serpentine for even a taste of Hell. Maybe that’s why he’s looking at him like that, like the Mark of Enma was something that set him off as better to eat than the rest of the sinners; instead of taking it as a sign that even old gods couldn’t consume Kokutō all the way when he had the will to stay uneaten. Didn’t matter if Hell, gods, or devils were licking at him with their eyes. “Looks like it too.”
“Think you can eat Hell?” he asked, cutting fast to the chase and rolling his neck with a crack, like he was asking for philosophy when it was about practicality. He wanted to escape and live unrestrained, and maybe it took a type of snake-like god built by that Aizen to shatter the chains that the Devil put on him. He couldn’t help but wonder: How hungry was this Hōgyoku he’s heard of and caught clairvoyant sight of within the flames? “Ever think of tryin’ to eat Hell, or somethin’ like it? You look ambitious.” Ambition’s just another word for hunger.
All sorcery is seduction.
Daniel A. Schulke (via liquidlightandrunningtrees)
