Sep 20, 2025
@the-pallid-king from here
The bastard is looking down at him. Check your eyes, his smile says, but then he has the same gold eyes, the same loathsome look that makes Grimmjow want to hook his fingers in and dig it out. And there's a whisper of instinct, a brush against his cavity that tells him this guy isn't quite the same, not really, but Grimmjow trusts his senses first and foremost. If he looks like him and smells like him and feels like him, it must be him.
"Don't give me that shit." He bites out. "You look like someone threw a bag of flour at him, but your reiatsu's the same as his. So if you aren't him, then what are you?"
