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@derosiv
HIRAKO SHINJI. 平子 真子 - 逆様の世界 SAKASAMA NO SEKAI.
dashboard-only. ∵ this blog welcomes crossovers, alternate universes, original characters, multimuses, & canon-divergent muses. ∵ mun is 23, blog is 18+, selective, & will feature extremely triggering content and spoilers. ∵ medium-activity. ∵ CARRD
↠ drafts ; 0 ↠ inbox ; 0 -- open, anon on. ↠ other blogs ; @tachlit (main), @doubledollar, @trigang
Hi all, I swear I’m still alive and kicking, life has changed for me in a pretty major way and along with that comes me having serious arcane brain rot. I’ll try to be on here more but if you wanna interact with me, I’m over on @vestniik (who has a bleach verse btw 👀) so yeah!! Gimme time, I miss my boy Shinji very much and want to return soon.
ill be around but if anyone likes league, i revamped my viktor blog so feel free to annoy my machine herald; @vestniik
❝what's everyone bein' f'r halloween?❞
he’s a tragic hero. he’s a pathetic bitch. he’s the poorest little meow meow. he’s the tormented bearer of his own dignity. he cares too much. he doesn’t have anything to care about. he’s his own worst enemy. he’s the only one who knows himself.
came back with some serious want for shippy stuff with shinji (angsty or otherwise) so . . . perhaps like for something along those lines in your inbox?
sorry for being so hardcore mia <3 some big life changes happened, but i’ll be around a bit tomorrow.
Get you a guy that is so grabbable. Get you a guy that is a stress toy
i love characters who could get the absolute Shit kicked out of them and still be fine but as soon as someone touches/handles them gently it’s like “ah. im going to shatter to pieces now thanks”
spirit society shinji 🌊✨
↬ searchcure ; momo.
This was essentially her first interaction in the real world , so when there’s a lack of accusation in his voice , she chooses to drop the voice of worry. Instead, there’s a million different questions that she wants to ask once the subject of school is brought up.
A sound of warning that she could only hear goes unnoticed because she’s so mixed up in the sudden conversation that she technically initiated. ( the curse was awake , she could tell , they’d been quiet for a little bit ) “ what’s it like there!? “ she would ask , a little more excited than she should have been , “ i’ve never been to school before , my parents wouldn’t let me. … my family is … kind of different than normal. But I want to go! “
It’s then , that something no one would believe would happen normally , there’s the slight indication of a movement , something that looks like an eye would appear ever so slightly peeking out under her sleeve , it stares straight at the stranger.
his eyebrows twitch upwards in an expression of slight surprise - what, had she been home-schooled before? he guessed it would fit . . . the girl seemed a bit naive to him even for a human. if she was one. a slight moment of annoyance at the barrage of questions, mostly because he’s not the type to give answers to anyone - but he’ll amuse her for now. his own curiosity is wet, so why not play the role of mentor / of teacher / of temporary confidante? he’s a great actor when he wants to be.
❝hm, well . . . it’s fine, i suppose. y’ learn a bunch’a different stuff. maths, history, english . . . they play this sport called volleyball where you hit a ball over this net. that’s cool sometimes, i guess.❞ a pause, hand reaching up to rub at his neck. to be honest, he never really paid attention during those classes; he wasn’t there to actually learn & even if he had been, he wasn’t interested too much in human culture. lisa would have fit better if she wasn’t such a perv sometimes. ❝they overprotective--?❞ voice dies as eyes meet eye (okay, weird), ❝. . . that a snake ‘r somethin’? don’t think eyes usually grow there.❞
aesthetics for the entities, part ii. bold what applies to your muse, italics what applies situationally or only in certain verses. rest of the fears here. this is based on a horror podcast; potentially triggering and / or upsetting content ahead! part 1 answered here.
viii. the hunt. sharp canines. sore calves after a run. the scent of blood. an adventure for the journey’s sake. the adrenaline right before the kill. a whistle’s echo. the woods. the doe eyes of a prey animal. your own breath in the air. sharpened claws. being tracked. fear of someone knowing your every movement. hunting down monsters. hide and seek. running away only to end up where you started. staying alive purely because the enemy enjoys seeing you run. a set of footsteps behind you. blood dripping from bare hands. barks and growls. focused eyes. a victim going limp under your hands. a mouth full of fresh blood. catching the scent of something monstrous. perfecting your craft. peering into the dark and running after it.
ix. the lonely. an apartment too small for a double bed. completely vacant streets. waking up to see everyone gone. fog. point nemo. a house too big to hear your family members in. alone in a faceless crowd. a mask with nothing behind it. separated cubicles. a deafening silence where joy should be. a blinding spotlight. the least missed in your friend group. streets without lights in the windows. isolation. not truly knowing your friends. your friends not truly knowing you. need for silence. fear of crowds. staring into space knowing nothing is looking back at you. a ship alone at sea. depression. knowing your friends are better off without you. talking to someone only to realize they’re gone. a family too large to notice you there. safety in being alone.
x. the slaughter. a game of tag. senseless violence. a true crime hobby. improvised weapons. blinding rage. intent to kill. a horrific day in a quiet community. a medal of bravery. holding on to what validates your anger. history books that spare no details. an injury you want revenge for. war. counting kills. songs of soldiers. a knifeblock on the counter. a pool of blood. shellshock. unspeakable horrors. anger pushing you forward. unimaginable pain. not seeing who will hurt you but knowing the pain is coming. a fully human monster. an authority sending its lessers to their deaths. kill or be killed. unedited wartime memoirs. a weapons collection. not knowing the names of who you kill. too many to remember. loss of hope. there’s no heroes in war.
xi. the spiral. sleep deprivation. corridors you can get lost in. maze puzzles that loop back on themselves. losing possessions. losing people. losing your sanity. corkscrew curls. rows of funhouse mirrors. optical illusions. a separate reality. walking through the wrong door. delusions. not knowing what your hands are doing. blank spaces in documents. hallucinations. wrong proportions. a nameless thing. a place that has never existed. doubting your own mind. blind faith. losing track of names, labels, categories. distorted sound. an imperfection in a glass that twists the view. loss of time. a garish color. doors that open to nowhere. lies. an unnatural laugh. jokes and tricks. illusions. a doorway. a sculptor with a wild imagination. limbs in impossible angles. doing what’s fun, not what’s sensible. fractals you can get lost in.
xii. the stranger. wax figures. a close approximation of a human face. a borrowed appearance. a strange smell. glass eyes. furs and pelts. a dance. a song of a choir. the uncanny valley. stitching yourself together. the colors of a circus. a puppet with no strings. mannequins. glitter and sequin. a stranger you’ve always known. someone strange in the place of someone you knew. stolen identities. stolen skins. a machine imitating humanity. the anonymity of a service worker. hiding in plain sight. uncomfortable to look at. a faked accent. concealing. forgetting who you are. forgetting who others are. a replacement no one notices. images that look posed. the only one seeing the false face of someone.
xiii. the vast. open spaces. carnival rides going up and down. fear of heights. endless infinity around you. your insignificance in an universe. stomach turning at a drop. fear of not the crash down but the moment you slip. the sway of a cable car. an adventure holiday. losing track of where the surface is. miles and miles of nothing around you. staring at the sky and feeling like you may fall into it. loss of control. a fall that doesn’t end in death. glass floor to the view below. terminal velocity. the sound of wind in your ears. a reach over the railing. a jump from the top of the building. falling into nothing. feeling your feet let go of the ground. a leap of faith. motion sickness.
xiv. the web. undecipherable code. a puppeteer holding the strings. power over the weak-willed. strings of fate. manipulation. an arranged accident. a hundred minions doing your bidding. cobwebs. spiders. a laid trap. never voicing discomfort. outwitting a cheater. doing things without realizing it. red string across a corkboard. finding something lost where you were sure you checked. power over the unreliability of chance. watching others dance for you. an entangled death. a thousand tiny legs and fangs. shady forum threads. something important gone missing. suspiciously disregarded case. a missing witness. connections. the world wide web. power of victimhood. gullibility. no control over your own decisions. an invisible leash. mass psychology. a horror film in the making. scapegoat. never remembering to ask for a name.
+ the extinction. the end of an era. apocalypse movies. the alarms of warning systems. a desolate landscape. end of the world cults. nihilism. the last written history. a changed world. no survivors. old prophecies. a thousand predicted ends. a new chapter. an end with no escape. catastrophes. a calendar counting down. breaking point. overindulgence.
@inouehs said: “Good morning Shinji! Have you eaten? I brought donuts!”
unprompted / always accepting.
ah, an angel in disguise, blessing this measly visored with her presence like a breathe of fresh air; much like a lovesick dog does he go towards her, a meteorite pulled into a planet’s gravity (minus the devastation bit). it’s all an act, of course, just something to grind on ichigo’s nerves & to amuse himself. but he does like her - she’s sweet like the deserts she brings, odd in the same way that he can never tell just exactly what she uses in her recipes. & strong too - he can tell that there’s hidden power beneath her veins, clipped in her very hair, waiting to be refined into a weapon. if she so chooses. he has made a habit of keeping an eye on powerful people.
❝ya know i’ll eat anything if it’s from you!❞ already do greedy hands reach for the baked goods.
↬ kvbikiri ; hiyori.
“Idiot, this is my car! I got it off the lot if you’re going to ask anymore stupid questions!” Deep down she was thinking of the poor guy she almost hit and the fact that after getting fast food no one gave her sauce. The audacity! Hiyori all but rolled her eyes, pushing gently on the brakes. She wouldn’t do anything too dangerous.
“I do have a license fuck you very much! I’m a very safe driver, now get in or I’m going to get someone else who wants fun! I got Wendy’s!” Was she bribing him? Absolutely not. Why doesn’t anyone believe her?
“You know you want to!”
expression shows how little he actually believes her - weren’t there a lot of hoops to jump through to get a care? money, credit checks, all that sorta human stuff that they didn’t care too much about? no, she had to have stolen it, & whether it was stolen on or off a lot didn’t make too much of a difference; stolen was still stolen. & when had she gotten her license? the little gremlin did a lot of human things for someone who hated them - maybe she was assimilating better than he thought. still, no way was he getting in, no matter what the circumstances, it just wouldn’t be right-- . . . then again, he was pretty hungry.
❝alright, alright, alright, i’m comin’, don’t get’ch’er panties all in a twist.❞ the door opens & closes as he attempts to fit long frame into small space, instantly pushing seat backwards. ❝gimmie some fries-- hey, where’s the sauce?! where’re we goin’ anyways?❞
« Aizen-taichou, I’m a little bit curious… how was your captain when you’re a vice-captain? » 😂😂😂😂😂 perish
random asks | always accepting
the afternoon had been a quiet one, thus far, and perhaps it was understandable. his new fukutaichou was a clever young woman who'd worked her way up through the ranks and in the couple decades or so since he'd lost gin due to his ascendency to become head of the sanbantai ( not that aizen minded -- he'd been so proud of him that day, a bantam rooster flapping his wings and crowing with open delight. ) he had finally chosen a replacement. she seemed affable enough and, unfortunately for momo, she had drawn his eye long ago for other reasons.
still this afternoon had been quiet as the jazz lazily worked through the air in a flowing of piano upon saxophone upon trumpet, a changing swirl of aural melody that he found soothing as his hand worked the brush upon the paperwork. had gin been there, desk set askew to where aizen could turn his head and watch him, momo had set hers up across from his. he rather suspected it was so she could watch him when she thought he was too preoccupied to notice. that shaggy mop of brown hair was curling more than usual today, evidence of his morning shower, golden highlights bouncing off of that chocolate crown as he bent his head over his work, broad shoulders edging up and down as he moved the papers along in the constant shuffle that came with the unending prospect of bureaucracy when all was said and done. it was patently ridiculous.
the ironic part of being taichou of the gobantai was that, for being a seditionist, aizen did take his duties seriously. he always had. perhaps too much so, given the eyes which would so often squint at him, that broad mouth downturned sometimes at the corners. gin had ever made things chaotic. and hinamori momo--? she seemed so eager to please. were he not so prone towards his chary attitude, aizen might have sneered about it. a doe-eyed child but she was adorable enough. she’d be so very useful when the time came. he planned not out in the nature of days or weeks -- but years. decades. patience was a virtue, after all. and yet ...
and yet today she spoke up as he had found himself falling into the melody. he hadn’t spoken much of his captain to anyone. though he had not expressly forbidden the topic of HIRAKO SHINJI from his intimacies with gin, very seldom did the times ever come when he welcomed that subject in kind. needless to say, aizen did not exactly find it a favored topic. so when momo spoke up, suddenly breaking the silence, aizen’s hands stilled and a blotch of ink spread abruptly beneath where he’d suddenly pressed the bristles too hard upon the paperwork. he frowned at it for a second, full lips pressing tight together before lifting the brush carefully to inspect the damage done, considering it. would he have to redo the page? ... no, it didn’t look like it. but his hand pushed the paper away ever so slightly and then he was setting the brush upon the inkstone before brown eyes framed by the metal rims of his glasses lifted up towards momo in response.
unlike gin, this girl had no idea of the territory she had stepped into nor of how tender a subject it was. gin understood, though he had seen only the slow decline of those final years. he had seen the times when aizen’s wrists were marred by the dark jewels of fingerprints. he had been bold enough as a boy to force the sleeve of aizen’s moesode up and show them off in those months before the man had chosen to at last drag his captain down to his conclusion as head of the gobantai. and while aizen did not know how much of what gin had heard and seen, he had never asked. he did not plan to allow momo have any whit of an idea of what she might see and hear except for what he wanted her to. but she did not know. she did not know of those mornings where he might run into a youth with silver hair, adjusting his clothes to hide what he could, fingers running through his hair, of the way he would tuck his hands into his sleeves. she didn’t know anything. gin did.
she didn’t.
❝ ... ah... ❞ he said softly even as the strains of that jazz filled the air for his lack of a response at first. ❝ ... well ... he was an interesting man. ❞ an arm shifted, elbow setting upon the table and his chin coming to rest on the back of his palm as the sleeve of his haori and uniform both slid down somewhat to show off the solid line of his forearm, the muscles sleekly tensed from the posture he had adopted. nostalgia played in the smile that curved his mouth, his eyes hazing with the nature of recall.
❝ eccentric was how many described him before i joined the gobantai. with his hair and his mannerisms, he was ... quite a remarkable character who stood out. when i was in the academy, we were approaching the final few decades of the quincy purges and the attrition rate could be rather ... demanding at times. the first time i saw him was at the academy. ❞ the first time i saw him was in the western district numbered thirty-three. i doubt he remembered the boy he saved from that hollow. ❝ i interviewed with him not long before my graduation and i had no plans at that time to seek out another squad. he ... had caught my eye, you might say. he had a fair amount of experience with being a captain, so i suppose you might say that i came to the fifth to see what i could learn from him. ❞
i knew the way his fingers would move -- i knew what commands meant to sit. to heel. i knew what tilt of his hand said for me to go to my knees. when to set my head in his lap. when--
❝ well...❞ a small shrug. ❝ ... he ... was a fine captain, though, despite his eccentric nature. flippant and dismissive at times, yes. he could be that. and yet oddly ... compelling. he had a way about him. compassion for people, i suppose would be how i would describe it best. ❞ always compassion for people, it felt, but never passion for them. it had driven aizen wild. how he had wanted to inspire in him the same passion that shinji stirred within aizen’s own heart. he could never understand it. how many times had he pulled at that long hair when there had been skin to skin, skin hunger, skin hungry -- where are you? he might ask of him. ( come back to me -- come back -- ) how he had tried to make shinji see him. even when his captain had laid there upon that muddy ground, he knew that those eyes of probing olive had yet to truly see him. one day, if he ever found him again .. perhaps that would change. ❝ which is a rather fair trait for a captain to have, really. i far preferred it over the sternness of others, such as kuchiki-taichou’s grandfather. that man could always seem to make you feel dismissed. ❞
he hummed softly and then glanced down to the brush still perched on the inkstone. ❝ ... truthfully, i never wanted to call anyone else my captain after i met him. i respected him more than he ever likely knew and i would have followed him anywhere if he’d asked it of me. ... he ... kept me close but sometimes i feel as if he never liked me. but he was a captain. he was my captain. when he-- ❞
there was a pause. a small inhale. even now, these handful of decades later ... it still hurt. he remembered too vividly the day of his confirmation as head of the gobantai. he remembered all too vividly getting to those quarters and collapsing, breaking down into sobs. it had been one of the only times he had ever deliberately hidden himself from gin. aizen could count on one hand the amount of times he had ever veiled himself from gin’s sight. and how he remembered leaving those quarters and turning to see kaname there. he remembered so much of it. and while the scar tissue had grown over that pain ... that wound? it still remained tender, even now. sometimes he touched at it, pressed at it, the way someone might put pressure on a cut or a bruise. how hard did he have to press upon it until it began to ache once more? and how it did ache. how it made him feel that pain.
❝ ... there was ... an incident, involving him and a traitor. ❞ ha. ❝ i lost him many years ago. ❞
... but had he ever really had him in the first place?
❝ for all of his quirks and faults, however ... he was a good captain. i was proud to be his fukutaichou, hinamori-kun. and i tried everything i could think of to make him proud to have me in kind. ❞
shinji vc: yes i'm a freak, what are you gonna do about it??? fuck me????
