#oboete-iru

[kenpxchi]

if kenpachi knew just how plastered gin is right now he would be dying of laughter

[godkilller]

cas. — Today at 2:33 PM uwu

lu. — Today at 2:33 PM WHAT DID YOU DO

cas. — Today at 2:33 PM i sent you an ask

lu. — Today at 2:33 PM CAS I SWEAR TO GOD I AM GONNA FUCKING MANIFEST IN YOUR HOUSE APOLOGIZE TO JACKIE AND THEN BREAK YOU

[kakimushire]

     Kurotsuchi “I’ll steal your boyfriend” Mayuri.

[rezadora]

09. the hermit : how introspective is your muse ? how often do they self - reflect ?

& @dalamusrex !

how introspective nnoitra is? quite. in hueco mundo, he’s got nothing but time, seeing as asides from killing other hollows, there’s not much to do there. he’s prone to losing track of time because he gets caught up in his own head, and usually relied on tesla to bring him back to reality, as he could end up mulling over his thoughts for hours on end. he has a lot of introspective questions about himself, his nature as a hollow and the intimate details of how he has changed since he became an arrancar, what that would entail for his desires. he was thrust into this newfound form, full of complex thoughts and emotions, things that he did not think about when he was an adjuchas. things that never really mattered to him back then, yet matter to him now. 

it takes him quite a while to really process and think about it. why he does what he does, what lengths would he go to obtain what he wants. the feeling of shame he feels over things that he has done in the past, justifiable as they were then are far more complicated now. but most of all, the bulk of what he thinks about is his nature as a BEAST. his attempts to reconcile his newfound humanity with his own monstrous nature. the result of this was his attempt to temper himself as a warrior, but that is a subject for another day. 

he doesn’t like to talk about it, what he thinks about is really nobody’s business but his own. he’s quite paranoid about people outside his intimate circle really knowing him, let alone giving them ammunition about him. nnoitra is actually an extremely private person. if he starts asking deeper questions, he’s attempting to get closer to someone, perhaps then he will share his thoughts.

one thing to note is his hollow hole placement. it isn’t a simple accident that it’s in his eye. it’s not only hinting at his introspective nature, but also how a lack of insight leads him to despair. and how he’s searching for a truth that may be unobtainable.

[kenpxchi]

so help me soul king gin ichimaru i will suplex you back into bed if that’s what it takes

let rangiku hug you

[godkilller]

          INHUMAN  WAILING  PIERCED  THROUGH  THE  CRISP  AIR — SHARP,  DISTORTED  CRIES  OF  A  CREATURE  FELLED  ONLY  HIS  EARS  COULD  DETECT.  Flocks of shadow fled the scene, yet upon his perch Gin loomed, remained, to linger in the scent of his slain kin rather than scurry in blind fear. HE DID NOT FEAR THIS WOMAN, though she had sheathed her pretty little  vampire-slaying knife  up the jaw of his own kind. They gurgled, gagged, and growled ... and crippled inward akin to a marionette's fall whilst strings were cut. Ashen, lifeless more so than before, somehow, it was an intriguing sight to befell: though Gin was heading into his next century of life, it was  rare  to witness a vampire’s soulless husk convulse and froth, condemned to eventually dissolve into the winds.

          Whenever he met a Hunter, it was typically head-on, him cloaked as their personalized misfortune, their private undoing ... and they did not live long enough to impress him. BY CHANCE, SHE HAD NOT YET AIMED HER BLADE TO  HIS  THROAT TONIGHT — NO, SHE DIDN’T EVEN KNOW HE WAS UP IN THE RAFTERS.

          Yet.

          The wind howled, and the abandoned warehouse walls trembled, storming clouds trailing the night sky in streaks of deepened silver bathed in moonlight. Gin’s shadowed form billowed, breathed upon by ominous air.

          A lesser vampire, snarling as she righted her weapon to focus on the next kill, indeed  could  smell his hidden presence above. He had been aided by the wafting winds of pure luck. They froze, eyes blown, and staggered not from the Hunter ahead, no, but in fear of death from above. THE BARRACUDA WOULD CEASE ITS HUNT WHEN IN THE PRESENCE OF A SHARK. There was a bigger fish near, so to speak. But Gin did not allow the grunt a full retreat. Pale hand extended out, a whimsical turn of wrist, of splayed fingers coiling, plucked upon the strings of power at his command to freeze the poor thing solid;  helpless to his fate to be felled by the Hunter before him.

          ❝ KILL THIS ONE, TOO, ❞ his voice projected downwards, echoed against rattling metal frame, groaning steel ... his hand moved to tighten the invisible grip, which in turn brought the male vampire to his knees before her, unable to writhe beyond the slightest shiver against Gin’s bind.

          ❝ — go oooonnnnn, it’s all part of your  god-given  job, right ? Or ... ❞ a playful thought emerged, and Gin’s left hand abandoned its propped placement against his crouched knee, hovering out to begin the vague consideration of, too, ensnaring her within his unseen grasp. MAYBE HE COULD MAKE THEM FIGHT LIKE A CHILD WITH TOYS, smashing them together whilst implementing his own imaginative sound effects, but the idea vanished at the sheer absurdity. NO, HE’D PLAY ... SOMEWHAT FAIR.  ❝ ... ORRR, would you prefer bein’ the  helpless one  instead, like your lil act ? ❞

@oboete-iru​‘s  MATSUMOTO RANGIKU  has come across a powerful vampire known as GIN during one of her hunting sprees.

[kenpxchi]

what the fuck is pegging

[kenpxchi]

@oboete-iru​ - death drabble

The nameless butcher had been wandering the Rukongai after his battle with that woman. He walked and walked, just as he had before, until he had become a man. Still, the relentless boredom overcame him. Nothing he cut would entertain him. It was no different than swinging his weapon at empty air. However... he remembers the feeling that the woman gave him. The way the hair on the back of his neck rose, the way he reacted to her. He had never met anyone else who caused that same reaction. At least, until he left Zaraki and saw that girl.

She has long, orange hair, and her silver companion keeps her company and gives her food and water. The two of them gave him that feeling again, like there was something about them which made them different. Like him. It’s not as powerful as the sensation he got when looking into the vicious, trained eyes of the woman, but it’s enough. He wonders if they’ll be enough to satisfy him as they are now, but still, he was a child when he was first found by Yachiru, and it had given him the greatest fight of his life. The nameless man decides that now’s as good a time as any.

It’s late when the girl wakes, a sudden chill coming down her spine. The hour is late and the night is dark. The wind blows through the little home she’s made with her friend... who isn’t in his bed. Where could he be? Rising, she makes her way to the door, unaware of the shade at her window, eyes locked onto her. However, as she goes to open it, she feels a presence, a chill that seeps through her ribs and presses up against her heart like the edge of a knife. She turns to the window, but nothing is there save the moon.

It’s then that the door bursts open, sending her sprawling as something collides with the far wall of the shack. Her eyes go wide when she sees it.

Silver hair, icy eyes, frozen wide in a terrified stare, the lower jaw hanging by one joint, the mouth dangling open in a silent scream. Limbs bend at impossible angles, blood leaking down the wall and over the floor from three brutal stab wounds through the midsection. Her companion, her protector, has just been used to bludgeon open their home. Now, nothing stands between her and the beast standing at the entryway, blocking her escape.

Blood soaks his shirt from a wound in his gut that doesn’t see to be slowing him down in the slightest. It seems that Gin had died fighting, but the impossible resilience of the man gave him an advantage. A low, guttural growl rises from the butcher’s throat, his breath misting in the cool night air, his teeth soaked with blood. The rusted weapon in his hand begins to rise.

“hun... gry...”

A wail breaks the silence before it’s cut short by the sound of steel tearing through flesh. From inside the dwelling, the crunch of bone and shred of flesh are followed by intermittent gulps as the nameless man devours his latest prey.