{Indie. Bleach OC }

-- I've been brought up, struck down and left for dead. Started with nothing and been brought back to nothing. Not here to cause trouble, just wanna take my life back. If I make friends along the way that's fine, if I make enemies too then so be it. --

{Multi-ship}

tracking: renascentiamortem

Our characters are playing strip poker and they’re both down to their underwear. Send me “Royal Flush” to see how my character reacts when you character gets the winning hand!

Title: Bad Habit
Artist: The Kooks
Album: Listen
Played: 4205 times

thisisanindieblog:

Looking for a stranger
Looking for a stranger to love

itsnotadrink:

Anna Silk. Perfect to me.

Grab a marker and write something on my muse! ( Anywhere over my muse’s body. )

jastun-frailthorn:

renascentia—mortem:

 

     "Well— that’s Jentoru," she said pointing a fingertip at an azure haired girl; she was the shortest among the four in the picture. And, although she was smiling, there was a pinch of annoyance evident —it was directed towards the male with his arm around her shoulders. He was the next one Cat would introduce.

     “Then there’s Kiken, her brother.” He too had azure hair and, unlike his sister, Kiken’s smile was playful and mischievous. Moving on, Cat pointed a finger at the laughing girl his other arm was around. 

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     "That’s me," she said. She was slender, lacking the shape she carried now (mainly due to malnutrition), long black locks were pulled back and the same blue hues were looking into the camera. Next to her was the final one of the bunch. His hair was a mess of brown and had eyes with a fierce steel hue. His arm was laced around Cat’s waist, as if keeping her from toppling over with laughter.

     "—And that’s Usui," she finally said. It was the nostalgia of the picture and the events that go on years after that had caused the bittersweet quality of the name as it rolled off her tongue.

Luka smiles and ruffles Cat’s hair, feeling her mood change slowly to one of melancholy.

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"There there kitten, no need to feel down." 

     "Yeah…thanks, Luka."

jastun-frailthorn:

renascentia—mortem:

     The woman nodded, her gaze caught by an old book at the bottom of the box. Hands would dive in to retrive it. She spread the book open and there it was, used as a bookmark, the picture sat snug between pages. Reluctantly, Cat plucked it out. A thumb gently brushed over the youthful faces of her past, placing extra attention to one in particular.

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     "Found it."

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Luka looked over Cat’s shoulder and smiled. “Who are they?” She asked. She had always wanted to meet her friends cub mates.

     "Well— that’s Jentoru," she said pointing a fingertip at an azure haired girl; she was the shortest among the four in the picture. And, although she was smiling, there was a pinch of annoyance evident —it was directed towards the male with his arm around her shoulders. He was the next one Cat would introduce.

     “Then there’s Kiken, her brother.” He too had azure hair and, unlike his sister, Kiken’s smile was playful and mischievous. Moving on, Cat pointed a finger at the laughing girl his other arm was around. 

     "That’s me," she said. She was slender, lacking the shape she carried now (mainly due to malnutrition), long black locks were pulled back and the same blue hues were looking into the camera. Next to her was the final one of the bunch. His hair was a mess of brown and had eyes with a fierce steel hue. His arm was laced around Cat’s waist, as if keeping her from toppling over with laughter.

     "—And that’s Usui," she finally said. It was the nostalgia of the picture and the events that go on years after that had caused the bittersweet quality of the name as it rolled off her tongue.

Anger was better than tears, better than grief, better than guilt.
Princess Arianne Martell  (via russiasredguardian)

jastun-frailthorn:

renascentia—mortem:

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     "Me and couple of friends…back when I was still a Soul Reaper."

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"OOooohh, neat."

     The woman nodded, her gaze caught by an old book at the bottom of the box. Hands would dive in to retrive it. She spread the book open and there it was, used as a bookmark, the picture sat snug between pages. Reluctantly, Cat plucked it out. A thumb gently brushed over the youthful faces of her past, placing extra attention to one in particular.

     "Found it."

6-1-5:

a haiku a day (46/365)

jastun-frailthorn:

renascentia—mortem:

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     "Most of it is just stuff I’ve accumulated over the years, but I’m looking for this picture…—not too sure if it’s in here though."

image

"Picture of what?"

     "Me and couple of friends…back when I was still a Soul Reaper."

gadaiarneamh:

[ renascentia—mortem

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"I got you scotch. I figured something nice to start the night off would be good. This day’s been shit, but the night is still young, right?" 

     "Damn straight." The woman nodded, wasting no time in pouring the two of them a drink. A smile began to take form upon her lips.

     "So, what should we drink to?"

jastun-frailthorn:

renascentia—mortem:

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     "I see, well be sure t’a call me if you discover any more," she said with a nod, her attention then cast toward the box between her hands. She almost forgot.

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"So what’s in the box?"

     "Most of it is just stuff I’ve accumulated over the years, but I’m looking for this picture…—not too sure if it’s in here though."

Your character walks in on mine having a violent flashback and is forced to pin them down for both of their safety. Send me, ‘wake up’ for my character’s reaction/coming to with yours still on top of them.

єνєяутнιηg єηɗѕ ѕσмєтιмє || open zombie apocalypse!AU

grimmjxw:

   It’s been pretty close to a year, now. A year of running, hiding, killing. It’s been hell. Literally, it was almost if hell rose from the ground and became the earth that was today. Families killing loved ones, friends killing friends, spouses killing spouses, no one was safe.

    Vegetation grew heavily from the cracks in the road Grimmjow traveled on. No one was to bee seen from miles, well, anyone alive that is. The dead still roamed the road ahead of the man, but that wasn’t a problem. With his pocket knife, screwdriver and last eight rounds of stolen shotgun shells, he was prepared enough.

    He traveled alone. Sure, he’s rode about with countless groups, even a group of friends in the very beginning. But, they were no more. One was bitten and ripped another’s throat out, the other, his best friend, ended with Grimmjow putting a bullet between his eyes.

    But, he, himself, had issues. Back in his hometown, he ended up scavenging with another group that graciously took him in. In the end, his left hand got bitten in a run-in with a horde. Some remaining survivors of the group ran him back to camp and thought. They contemplated shooting him then and there, but instead they tried something else.

                                                        They amputated his infected left arm.

    The searing, white-hot pain was absolutely agonizing for the man. Thrashing and crying out as the dulled blade sliced through the dying flesh in his arm. He thought he was going to die. No anesthetics, antibiotics, nothing, they cut his arm off at the shoulder. The infection he was left with was just as bad, but he endured it as they soon after ran across a pharmacy. Thankfully.

    After a good few months with the group, he ended up separated from them and ended up where he’s at now. 

    Taking one final drink from his water bottle, he threw it aside. There, he stood in front of an abandoned gas station. There better be something in this fuckin’ place, he mentally told himself as he peeked inside. 

                                                                                      Empty.

    Fuck.. He spat as he nudged the doors open. Even if it was an empty building, he could at least camp out here, food or no food. Sure, he hasen’t eaten in days, but nighttime was well on it’s way and he wouldn’t be caught outside.

    Grimmjow grabbed his screwdriver and snuck inside. It looked clear of zombies, pretty much. An already dead zombie here and there, but that’s it.

     That is, until he heard rummaging coming from the back. Blue eyes narrowed as he put the screwdriver away and reached for the shotgun strapped to his back. Swinging it out, he swung out to face the intruder and cocked the gun, with one arm.

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    PUT YER’ FUCKIN’ HANDS UP OR YER’ BRAINS END UP ON THE FLOOR! He bellowed, pointing the gun at the other, not even sure if it was just a zombie or a looter. 

     Agitated swears could be heard under an equally peeved sign. From behind a counter arms lifted to the air, a half eaten energy bar clutched in the grasp of one dirty hand.

     The teen had just entered town and already someone was pointing loaded barrels at her head. Something she should have expected, but considering the desolate appearance of the streets and buildings it would lead her to anticipate otherwise. Zombies, sure, she had gotten a face full of that getting into the gas station. Then, of course, there were the ones back home.

     —None of them were prepared. It was as if everyone else got the memo but their small town in the outskirts of a big city. It wasn’t until they found their neighbor chewing on his wife and then gunned after them did they realize the proverbial shit had hit the fan.

     A week was passed barricading doors and scrounging up anything that could be used as a weapon. Then came time for rations. Unfortunately, that had called for running out and getting enough food to sustain a family of four; not to mention the fighting off of zombies and humans a like.

     Her father was the one to fulfill the task, being the man of the house, he felt it was his duty to provide for his family. So he went.

     That was when he got bit.

     Again, they didn’t know. So grossly unaware, her mother dressed the wound unbeknownst that her neck will be clamped between the maw of her rabid husband hours later. After her mom, it was her ten year old brother. Finally her father, or at least what was left of him, went after Cat.

     In her desperation, fear and anger bubbled over and drove her to bashing the man’s skull in with a metal bat.

     The teen skipped town soon after. Joining different groups of survivors from the broken town; Many people were quick to help the orphan girl. They gave her clothes, food, water and shelter. However, there were many people who refused to help as well. That’s what had gotten her kicked out of the last group.

     Which brings her to that moment.

     Arms still raised, Cat slowly turned towards the other in her crouched position. Blue hues would glance over to the metal bat that had laid on the ground a few inches away from her. The teen had half the mind to grab for it, but it wasn’t like it would do much against a shotgun.

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     "Hate t’burst you’re bubble, pal, but I ain’t no fuckin’ zombie." She shot back, maintaining her usual bravado, "So y’mind getting that thing outta my face—”

jastun-frailthorn:

renascentia—mortem:

image

     "My bad. I meant, abilities.”

image

"Not really. As far as I know anyways."

     "I see, well be sure t’a call me if you discover any more," she said with a nod, her attention then cast toward the box between her hands. She almost forgot.