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Bleach cannon confuses me, thus why I will likely never finish anything that large (honestly, how many freakin’ divisions of Soul Society IS there? I can barely even remember all the politics. It feels like I’m memorizing the periodic table.)
And now, writing.
Uh, possible spoilers for the Soul Society arc in any one of these.
Come into my parlor
Kira & Gin, gen, with a side of Aizen.. And yes it’s gen, Gin’s just naturally very gay. XD (ok, fine, maybe it’s mildly shippy, but it’s unintentional, really. )
Whenever Gin eats he always manages to be messy gracefully, when he eats he slurps, licks his fingers and somehow manages to never make it callous or rough, makes it seems even elegant. It’s childish and impish, but somehow, always elegant.
Sometimes Kira watches him eat, watches him bite into meat and the red juices fall down his chin – he always wipes them up carefully – so careful that it’s mocking like bowing all the way to the ground at every passing peasant and watching their confusion.
And when he smiles, it’s not kind or benevolent, it’s the smile of a hunter playing with it’s prey, a cat with a mouse, it’s claws sheathed to prolong the fun. (don’t hit the prey now, for then it might accidentally die and then the game will cease to be fun)
Sometimes he’ll lick food off of Kira’s chin, or offer to feed him, (“Say ah...”) put fingers near his skin so close they almost touch, but pull away at the last moment, dipping out with a careless laugh that leaves Kira drenched in the scent of his own fear, he shuddereds and wishes that it was imperceptible and that he didn’t know that Gin is feeding off of his fear, enjoying it, prolonging it.
It feels like a fox licking at the heels of a rabbit.
–
Kira remembers the first time Aizen showed his bankai before the soul society, it was only a test,
but to show the special trust between Aizen and the rest of the Soul Society –
In the reflection, it looked like a large spiderweb, slowly wrapping around the entirety of the room, slowly twisting around the necks of the soul society.
And Aizen smiles, his fingers spread out into the spiderweb reflection like puppetstrings, each knot around his fingertips as he called the shots from the back, controlling each movement like they were merely dolls in his grasp.
–
“Won’t you come into my parlor?” Aizen says, with such a sweet smile, inviting him in deeper to his lair, this sunny, comfortable house.
Gin smiles, blocking the door with such casual ease of an uninvited guest, a lurker, a stranger in this place he calls home. His foot taps on the side of the doorframe with idle ease.
It feels like spidery tendrils crawling up his arms. Aizen sips his tea and watches, calm and collected, preparing the strings to be pulled for another doll, another tool to add to his collection.
come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly
Illusory
Gin & Aizen, gen.
Sleight of hand, magical tricks. Aizen is very popular, all the children love Aizen and his illusions, his seemingly unending benevolence. Such a quiet, sweet man, so kind. No one would believe that such a sweet person would ever willingly hurt another person. Why, he even trusted everyone enough to show his Bankai before the whole Soul Society, proved willingly that he had nothing to hide.
Gin was no exception, soon he became fascinated by Aizen – how could you not? Aizen demanded results and was stern, but kind. Everyone loved him, because he demanded that you love him with his gentle, non-threatening ways. (How can you hate a dog with it’s stomach bared? Looking up like you’re the master it’s been wishing for.)
They had met years ago when Gin was still young and naive, and most of all, when he was still kind.
He watched as Aizen held an audience in his spell, showed all sorts of tricks, a bit of smoke and mirrors, a slip of change from behind ears, proffered handkerchiefs for any woman who would ever shed a tear. Gin’s first thought is I want to be exactly like him
“We’re alike you see.” Aizen whispers, smiling so sweet and kind.. “Because we’re both made of illusions.”
Shadows fall over his face, and Gin mimics that smile, he was always extremely adept and miming, humoring everyone with harmless tricks, how he would tease and try his hand at miming accents, anything to make other people laugh.
And who better to mimic than Aizen?
Everyone loves Aizen. How could they not?
and he smiles, so sweet that no one could believe he could ever harm an innocent soul....
the soft eyes of mercy
Unohana & Isane, gen.
Isane barely remembers her former life, before she died, passed into this world she now lives in, a mirror image of smoke and haze, of dawn and dusk and all the hours in-between of this half-life she’s living.
She died in a car crash, not immediately, but slowly, suffering through painful burns
like one who is struck by venom the venom of a snakebite but dies of gangrene, with the body slowly blackening and rotting from the inside out, that is how she passed.
There was a nurse who changed her bandages, nurses who stitched up her wounds and whispered kindness against her parched skin. There were many, each one that passed became one entity, one shining light in her sightless life.
Isane’s last conscious thought was that she wanted to heal.
–
When she arrived in this world it was little different than the world she had left, the dirt roads lead to towns full of people who lived and breathed and died just like the living, some became Shinigami, some just stayed at ease endlessly searching for lost family members and other pieces of home scattered along the way.
Isane is young, naive, fraught with a nervous disposition. Her hair never stays in place and she speaks too fast when talking.
When she meets Unohana, she’s reminded of those nurses who would open the curtains and let light in, hum off tune and stitch up her wounded skin and speak to her of mercy with their angelic offwhite scrubs.
During the interview she stutters, is far too tense, and salutes when it isn’t necessary.
Unohana moves as if she’s underwater, and when she smiles it’s like sunlight filtering beneath the waves.
“I think you’ll do fine.” she says, and motions for Isane to follow her.
–
She becomes Unohana’s apprentice, following her and learning every detail, each statute set out before her like guideposts and she walks along them, slowly losing her nervous twitch and practicing her sword between green tea and the sounds of water rushing through her ears.
When she sleeps she remembers, and when she wakes she’s just as nervous as the girl who walked dirt paths up the trail to the Soul Society.
She walks out of her room, attempting soundlessness but she trips and steps on the one board that creaks, she falls onto a fall and berates her clumsiness too loudly.
“Nightmares?” Unohana says, smiling knowingly.
Isane nods, her face burning, she places her hands behind her back to stop them from shaking so.
“Why don’t you stay until you can bear to sleep again?”
Unohana sits in a seiza position, drinking green tea and existing in silence. Between them there’s nothing but the sound of breathing and heartbeat, of lungs expanding and blood vessels pumping through a menagerie of capillaries and veins and arteries.
There’s nothing but the night breeze, but Isane swears it sounds like the distant crashing of waves upon the shore.
And now, writing.
Uh, possible spoilers for the Soul Society arc in any one of these.
Come into my parlor
Kira & Gin, gen, with a side of Aizen.. And yes it’s gen, Gin’s just naturally very gay. XD (ok, fine, maybe it’s mildly shippy, but it’s unintentional, really. )
Whenever Gin eats he always manages to be messy gracefully, when he eats he slurps, licks his fingers and somehow manages to never make it callous or rough, makes it seems even elegant. It’s childish and impish, but somehow, always elegant.
Sometimes Kira watches him eat, watches him bite into meat and the red juices fall down his chin – he always wipes them up carefully – so careful that it’s mocking like bowing all the way to the ground at every passing peasant and watching their confusion.
And when he smiles, it’s not kind or benevolent, it’s the smile of a hunter playing with it’s prey, a cat with a mouse, it’s claws sheathed to prolong the fun. (don’t hit the prey now, for then it might accidentally die and then the game will cease to be fun)
Sometimes he’ll lick food off of Kira’s chin, or offer to feed him, (“Say ah...”) put fingers near his skin so close they almost touch, but pull away at the last moment, dipping out with a careless laugh that leaves Kira drenched in the scent of his own fear, he shuddereds and wishes that it was imperceptible and that he didn’t know that Gin is feeding off of his fear, enjoying it, prolonging it.
It feels like a fox licking at the heels of a rabbit.
–
Kira remembers the first time Aizen showed his bankai before the soul society, it was only a test,
but to show the special trust between Aizen and the rest of the Soul Society –
In the reflection, it looked like a large spiderweb, slowly wrapping around the entirety of the room, slowly twisting around the necks of the soul society.
And Aizen smiles, his fingers spread out into the spiderweb reflection like puppetstrings, each knot around his fingertips as he called the shots from the back, controlling each movement like they were merely dolls in his grasp.
–
“Won’t you come into my parlor?” Aizen says, with such a sweet smile, inviting him in deeper to his lair, this sunny, comfortable house.
Gin smiles, blocking the door with such casual ease of an uninvited guest, a lurker, a stranger in this place he calls home. His foot taps on the side of the doorframe with idle ease.
It feels like spidery tendrils crawling up his arms. Aizen sips his tea and watches, calm and collected, preparing the strings to be pulled for another doll, another tool to add to his collection.
come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly
Illusory
Gin & Aizen, gen.
Sleight of hand, magical tricks. Aizen is very popular, all the children love Aizen and his illusions, his seemingly unending benevolence. Such a quiet, sweet man, so kind. No one would believe that such a sweet person would ever willingly hurt another person. Why, he even trusted everyone enough to show his Bankai before the whole Soul Society, proved willingly that he had nothing to hide.
Gin was no exception, soon he became fascinated by Aizen – how could you not? Aizen demanded results and was stern, but kind. Everyone loved him, because he demanded that you love him with his gentle, non-threatening ways. (How can you hate a dog with it’s stomach bared? Looking up like you’re the master it’s been wishing for.)
They had met years ago when Gin was still young and naive, and most of all, when he was still kind.
He watched as Aizen held an audience in his spell, showed all sorts of tricks, a bit of smoke and mirrors, a slip of change from behind ears, proffered handkerchiefs for any woman who would ever shed a tear. Gin’s first thought is I want to be exactly like him
“We’re alike you see.” Aizen whispers, smiling so sweet and kind.. “Because we’re both made of illusions.”
Shadows fall over his face, and Gin mimics that smile, he was always extremely adept and miming, humoring everyone with harmless tricks, how he would tease and try his hand at miming accents, anything to make other people laugh.
And who better to mimic than Aizen?
Everyone loves Aizen. How could they not?
and he smiles, so sweet that no one could believe he could ever harm an innocent soul....
the soft eyes of mercy
Unohana & Isane, gen.
Isane barely remembers her former life, before she died, passed into this world she now lives in, a mirror image of smoke and haze, of dawn and dusk and all the hours in-between of this half-life she’s living.
She died in a car crash, not immediately, but slowly, suffering through painful burns
like one who is struck by venom the venom of a snakebite but dies of gangrene, with the body slowly blackening and rotting from the inside out, that is how she passed.
There was a nurse who changed her bandages, nurses who stitched up her wounds and whispered kindness against her parched skin. There were many, each one that passed became one entity, one shining light in her sightless life.
Isane’s last conscious thought was that she wanted to heal.
–
When she arrived in this world it was little different than the world she had left, the dirt roads lead to towns full of people who lived and breathed and died just like the living, some became Shinigami, some just stayed at ease endlessly searching for lost family members and other pieces of home scattered along the way.
Isane is young, naive, fraught with a nervous disposition. Her hair never stays in place and she speaks too fast when talking.
When she meets Unohana, she’s reminded of those nurses who would open the curtains and let light in, hum off tune and stitch up her wounded skin and speak to her of mercy with their angelic offwhite scrubs.
During the interview she stutters, is far too tense, and salutes when it isn’t necessary.
Unohana moves as if she’s underwater, and when she smiles it’s like sunlight filtering beneath the waves.
“I think you’ll do fine.” she says, and motions for Isane to follow her.
–
She becomes Unohana’s apprentice, following her and learning every detail, each statute set out before her like guideposts and she walks along them, slowly losing her nervous twitch and practicing her sword between green tea and the sounds of water rushing through her ears.
When she sleeps she remembers, and when she wakes she’s just as nervous as the girl who walked dirt paths up the trail to the Soul Society.
She walks out of her room, attempting soundlessness but she trips and steps on the one board that creaks, she falls onto a fall and berates her clumsiness too loudly.
“Nightmares?” Unohana says, smiling knowingly.
Isane nods, her face burning, she places her hands behind her back to stop them from shaking so.
“Why don’t you stay until you can bear to sleep again?”
Unohana sits in a seiza position, drinking green tea and existing in silence. Between them there’s nothing but the sound of breathing and heartbeat, of lungs expanding and blood vessels pumping through a menagerie of capillaries and veins and arteries.
There’s nothing but the night breeze, but Isane swears it sounds like the distant crashing of waves upon the shore.
no subject
<3 <3
no subject
Eee, thanks <3 And yeah, I have a thing for Gin in general X3 (and whee, someone else who thinks Gin is fascinating! with italics even! *latches onto you and fangirls <3<3<3<3<3)
no subject
XD He really is v. interesting... like a shiny toy. ^^
no subject
One thing though- and it bothers me. When you use "its", you want to talk about something that belongs to 'it'; and it's is a contraction of 'it is'? People use it differently all the time and I catch myself confusing the issue. Which one is right? *goes mad*
no subject
Thank you~ And I hope you're ok *hugs* ;_;
er, I'll have to check which part you're talking about, I'm notorious for making little errors like that and missing them --
All I know is that its is to it's like your is to you're. :D I'm not sure if I used it correctly, I didn't proofread that well for these :D;;