#derosiv

[shobainin]

                          @derosiv​ : oh not this dude BOOOOO WE HATE YOUR HAT

Every  time  he  is  booed;  he  gains  about  a  hundred  more  years  on  his  lifespan. 

                                 “You  realize  the  hat  stays  on  at  all  times,  right?”  

[keikakudori]

"gimmie kiss." horrible smooching noises.

                           the sound alone is enough to make him grimace before there's a dull thwack of a stack of paperwork meeting the captain's face, free of ink thankfully and the lack of black splotches on aizen's own hands proclaim plenty for the time being of how he has yet to begin work on it himself. but his voice is curt and firm as he regards the shorter man with a lifting of his chin.

                           ❝ you sound as if you have a frog caught in your throat, hirako-taichou. surely you're not getting sick. you need to complete these forms besides, for the record. maybe, if you do, i'll consider it. ❞

[scnkei]

@derosiv​ ,, starter .

     Hirako was his senior, and so it was not for Byakuya to criticise him. That was easier said than done. Byakuya certainly didn’t approve of his laid-back attitude. He was of the opinion that if Hirako had been a more dedicated captain, then, surely, he would not have been betrayed by his own Fukutaichou? Byakuya could not imagine such a betrayal from Renji. Granted, he had faced him in battle, but that had not been a betrayal. 

     Byakuya arrived at the 5th division, carrying a stack of folders. Each folder contained information on new recruits that had come to his division, and who weren’t going to stay. Byakuya was extremely strict in his demands of his new recruits. If they did not fulfil the criteria for being in the 6th, they were transferred. 

     ❝ Good morning, Hirako-Taichou. ❞ Byakuya greeted the other captain. He placed the folder on the other’s desk. ❝ Do take a look at these candidates and select some you would approve for transfer to your division. They will not stay in mine. ❞

[keikakudori]

❝if ya beg real pretty, i might just be inclined to forgive you. gotta make it worth my time though.❞

those words are enough to draw the attention of the traitor, head turning aside to bring that visible eye upon the figure of the man who he once named captain. he still names him captain -- a distance. a strange respect. a way of pushing hirako shinji out to arm's length as much as the man ever did to him. a hundred years and more and there is nothing but anger stirring up now at the words which are twisted at him, anger for the words of begging. he remembers begging, of course, being on his knees with long fingers in his hair, digging through the heavy locks of brown with glasses askew, lips parting around the words. he remembers it so easily. and now? NOW the older man speaks of him begging real pretty and how he might be inclined to forgive him -- the fury which swelled up in the man who was known now as a traitor was profound as that eye sharpened, blazed bright, then brighter still.

he wanted aizen to beg, did he? there was no warning as the air suddenly grew dense with a snarling of POWER, the violet overtones warping it and how EASY IT WAS TO HURL THE WEIGHT OF DISPLEASURE AT THE MAN WHOSE VERY SOUL HE HAD BROKEN. a hundred years had left it to fester within him, a germinating seed of resentment that had not found satisfaction on that night when the lanky blonde had been left sprawled in the mud. it had not been satisfied even on that bright winter day, when the edge of his blade had cut across shinji's back and left blood fountaining into the air. HAD IT SCARRED HIM? DID HE EVEN NOW CARRY A SHRED OF AIZEN'S POWER IN HIS SKIN? perhaps it was petty to hope the answer was yes. but more than that was the weight of his displeasure, a hot and vicious thing which was left to slam in weighty fashion upon shinji's shoulders, heavy and sudden enough to force those thin legs to buckle and bend until his knees were to collide with the ground beneath their feet as aizen seethed at him, stepping forward. there was no blade in his hand now, no bright shining steel catching the gleam of moonlight as he stared down at the older man in an echo of a dark autumn night from so long ago, trailed by his hound, shadowed by his viper. it was merely him now in the cold light of this day, standing there amidst ruins and rubble, his power seething so intently in the air that shinji might find himself face down upon the terrain before aizen in these moments, weight threatening to crush that skinny chest of his, to squeeze his lungs of all air. he had made grimmjow kneel for him. this was no different and it was far less restrained. ❝ you want me to beg for your forgiveness, HIRAKO-TAICHOU? ❞ step by dreadful step, aizen closed the distance between the prone form and himself, uncaring of the debris strewn underfoot. hirako shinji demanded forgiveness for what had happened. forgiveness for breaking him? forgiveness for what had happened to hiyori? forgiveness for the betrayal? only the knowledge that he was likely to corrode the older man's flesh with his power kept aizen from seizing a handful of hair, yet with their proximity to one another so close now, it was likely that shinji was left to feel the heat of that raw power rolling across his skin. did it hurt? did it burn? demanding that he beg and to beg pretty for him once more--- ❝ if it were not for the fact that the quincy take precedence in this moment, i think i would show you exactly what i think of this demand of yours towards me. ❞ had aizen ever sounded so FERAL whilst speaking to the blonde before now? had he ever sounded so feral, period, during their long time together as captain and lieutenant? no. he had ever been polite and well-spoken, diligently carrying out his duties and never batting an eye at them. he had done so much for this man and now, now, it was demanded that he beg pretty for forgiveness--- how fucking absurd. the suddenness of his hand racing down to grasp a handful of hair and he was hurling shinji away with a feral snarl of noise would probably come as a shock, no less so than the vaizard being left to careen through a few walls that got in his way from the sheer might of the power inherent in that motion. he had already been powerful on that day during the winter war. now, here, encased in the bindings of Muken and with the vast majority of his power still sealed until but a small rivulet was available to him--? HE WAS STRONGER. BUT HAD HE NOT JUST DESTROYED THOSE CREATURES SPAWNED BY YHWACH WITH A CHANTLESS KUROHITSUGI? HAD HE NOT JUST OBLITERATED ALL THE RUBBLE NEAR THE LABORATORY? HE WAS STRONGER NOW THAN HE WAS BEFORE, EVEN SEALED, EVEN BOUND. terrifying, that anger. fearsome, that power. ❝ go fucking train a dog if you want to have some begging in your life. i will never beg for you ever again. ❞

[yumichikah]

derosiv replied to your post:

you look more wrinkly than usual

“Oi, why are you trying to pick a fight with the man you secretly admire?”

[uraharashouten]

@derosiv asked:

❝you know, going around following strangers is gonna get you screwed one of these days.  haven’t you learned anything from the past?❞ / to kisuke.

[[ meme || reflective prompts ]]

"I should be so lucky," he sighed wistfully. It had been a long dry spell.

But joking aside... he'd been found out, and brought up short, and his penchant to tail typically led to travail, as Shinji rightfully pointed out. Sheepishly, Kisuke peeled back the hood of his cloak. It certainly had ended badly a century and change ago, for the both of them, and more besides. And yet—following his curiosity, wherever it may lead, was an itch that must be scratched... and the risk seemed justfied, when one could blend into the background. But he never could skate by Shinji's keen senses.

"Someday, I'll let you teach me how you do that..."

[yumichikah]

❝ya got somethin’ on your face. here, lemme just—❞ cue harsh rubbing. ❝. . . oh wait! that’s just your face. yikes—❞ / because someone has to be mean.

"OI! WHO THE HELL GAVE YOU PERMISSION TO TOUCH MY FACE?!"

A hand is placed to that rubbed spot, trying to soothe the irritated skin. His face was so flawless that it could be described as the definition of beauty! How could someone even dare to try and tell him otherwise? It must just be the result of jealousy, for sure.

....his face was really was flawless, wasn't it? Right?

[keikakudori]

💘for research purposes

sex+romance headcanons! 💘 What are the ways my muse says ‘I love you’ without actually saying it?

-- boy, talk about him not having a comment for this one--- but if we're going to talk about how aizen conveys something like love without actually saying it? there's dozens of little ways in which he will do so because, quite frankly, he's not ever liable to say it aloud without being forced to realize and accept that he does feel that kind of emotion ( as we are all getting to see in the caged thread hahaha oh god that's something that he and gin haven't touched on yet--- ) so. but it's in the little ways. he'll show it by covering someone with a blanket if he needs to, especially if they've fallen asleep at their desk. he'll get medicine into them if they're sick ( looking directly at gin while i say this point--- ). he'll make meals to share since cooking is one of those few things that aizen can and will do to share time with someone else. he'll pick out gifts that he thinks will be significant or meaningful for the person in question. like, if aizen is giving someone a gift, it will absolutely be personalized and specific to the person in question; the rarest gifts he will give out will be a calligraphy scroll he made himself. those don't happen very often so it's always significant when he does do so. aizen is --... gun shy about his own emotions, especially and particularly where love is concerned. call it toxic masculinity, perhaps, or call it merely that he'd have to struggle immensely to ever be so vulnerable with another person. he's perfectly capable of love and of being in love, as was shown with his mother and with two men in particular, and he has borne great affection for a few people he could consider himself close to or at least be friendly with. but even if he doesn't admit that he feels such an emotion or is unwilling to recognize it, it shows in those dozens of small ways, be it tucking a scarf around someone or just sharing food or covering them with a blanket if they need it. he's not entirely a bastard but his willingness to show such tenderness is very much a selective sort of situation and will show itself best in intimate situations or in relative privacy.