alpha-sloth

[alpha-sloth]

shadow--games‌:

Extending his hand out to hand him a cup, he couldn’t help but chuckle. “I suppose you’re somewhat right. Although Katen’s games are binding to me as well, if you had thought to try and cut me from the shadows its likely you could’ve done the same.”

“I think I had enough trouble without looking for your own shadow,” he griped. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t tried to cut the Shinigami’s shadow, but it was a risky play. Not to mention all the back-up getting in his way. “That’s a pretty troublesome ability. Must have taken some getting used to.”

[alpha-sloth]

Continued from here: @henjiin​

“I like it. It suits you.” Recognition wasn’t immediate, a blessing when interacting with many Shinigami, but deception wasn’t his strong suit. It didn’t jive well with him to conceal who and what he was. “Coyote Starrk, former Primera Espada. I don’t think we really got a chance to meet last time we bumped into one another. I think you were playing a game with Wonderweiss?”

[alpha-sloth]

Continued from here: @moon-lit-heroine​

Her response was to be expected, most Shinigami were still displeased with his presence here. Besides, any differing reaction could prove fatal if you were dealing with the wrong Arrancar. The Primera Espada announcing he’d roughed up a few folks? Probably didn’t inspire a relaxing mood. “Guess that makes me pretty lucky. Mind helping me out, Miss..?”

[alpha-sloth]

candymetralleta‌:​

Everything is a big, black void. 

Time is nonexistent here – wherever here is. Like being asleep, but there are no dreams nor nightmares. No wants, no desires. It’s peaceful, wherever this is. But she has the realisation it’s not enough. Even in this stateless vacuum, she’s still alone.

But there’s a way out; she can feel it more than see it. And it gets stronger. And stronger.

Unlike the split where they in sorrow rent their soul in two, this feels like a rebuilding. It’s similar to Los Lobos when they become one again but without all the pomp and circumstance. She breathes in deeply, filling her lungs for the first time in a long time. A solitary fuchsia eye flutters open to meet a bright sky and the attentive (panicked?) steely gaze of her counterpart.

“Starrk…”

Her lips spill his name without thought as her soul resonates in triple time. Weak but unequivocally invigorated, she sits up in the desiccated rubble. Slender fingers curl into what’s left of the rebar underneath her legs as if to ground herself in this new reality. She’s unable to comprehend just what is happening, but knows all the same. Then, faster than a heartbeat, she launches herself into his arms. 

Lilynette buries her face into his chest and clutches to him so tightly any weaker being would cave under the pressure. He’s here. He’s alive. 

We’re not alone.

It doesn’t matter where they are geographically – she’s home now.

“Where the hell have you been?”

The fragment slips in earnestly and reiatsu spills forth. From the mask, from himself, from any source it can. The debris he’s nestled on disintegrates rapidly, it’s reishi, too, required. He’s drained and refilled many times over, but for once in his life the urge to sleep never takes hold. His eyes are wide, his entire being focused on the figure materializing before him.

When she speaks his name, his heart stops, tries to leap from his throat. He tries to speak back, to respond in turn, but his brain is far too slow, sluggish from shock and awe. But he’d never been the one to take the initiative, had he? That was her role-- one of many, that kept him functioning.

Arms encase her, respond to her desperation thrice over. Her touch, her smell, the heartbeat that sounds in tandem with his own. The way her body fits perfectly against his own, there aren’t any words that can express the gratitude he has for her. The unending relief that here, and now, and forever if his power allows it, she is by his side.

We’re not alone.

“Slacking off.” Voice is muffled against her helmet, gaze fixated on the hair that poked out beneath it, in case blinking would scare it away. “Sorry I took so long. I never was very productive without you.”

Kick About

[alpha-sloth]

raijou‌:

What a none cooperative guy who was clearly missing the point, but if that’s how he wanted to take it she was ill inclined to argue too much. Instead she retracts hand, settling back into a comfortable position with chin braced carefully onto hand.

“You’re one of the cheapest dates I’ve had~” Coy laugh before she gives a dismissive gesture with her other hand, waving off his words. “It’s not really about public image though so much as it’s unreasonable to expect people to work for very little.” So, unfortunately, he would ultimately need to think of something. Perhaps not today though, she didn’t seem so pressed.

“You’re giving me more than you think.” Material possessions held little value in Hueco Mundo, but even now, far away from the dunes of his old stomping grounds, they didn’t mean much to Starrk. No solace could be found in them, no warmth, no joy. Things were cheap, temporary.

Friends were forever. At least, they were supposed to be. “If I’m backed into a corner, I’ll start asking for ridiculous things.” Maybe he’d ask for a pony. The idea made him grimace. Something told him that she may just call his bluff and get him one..

[alpha-sloth]

houndedpriestess‌:

She felt like a fractured doll, the way Aizen and the Arrancar carved pieces out of her (the way she carved pieces out of herself to survive in this environment), steadily broken her into chipped porcelain while insisting she remained in the shape of a girl. How many times would she and her friends cut themselves on her sharp, jagged edges as they tried to piece her back together?

Every muscle in her body ached, sore from constant tension as she forced herself not to jump every time Coyote Starrk so much as breathed in her general direction. Goose flesh prickled across her skin when the sigh that escaped him found her ears, the hairs on her neck standing straight. As if keeping herself from falling apart, she crossed her arms over her chest, knuckles bone white as she stared at the ground; her eyes open, but unseeing. Something about his leisurely demeanor disturbed her, so out of place their malevolent surroundings.  Orihime felt the blood drain from her face as he spoke, assaulted by a sudden and violent wave of nausea that threatened to bring her to her knees. Starrk’s voice became a low hum in her periphery, grounding her in the reality of being a prisoner as her mind buzzed wildly and blind panic gripped her throat like a vise.

Several moments passed before she realised he’d asked something of her (Name, her subconscious supplied through her mind’s haze), and she jerked her head up to meet his even gaze with her own, wide-eyed stare. Orihime willed herself to swallow down the bile, to breathe evenly instead of attempting to reconcile the chaos of her circumstances with any semblance of sanity. 

“….I-Inoue,” she spoke hoarsely, her grip tightening as she literally held herself together. “Orihime Inoue… S-Sir.”

The question posed had apparently been a difficult one, speaking more to the depths of what her being here was doing to the poor creature’s stability, and less to the notion that he had posed a particularly vexing problem. If even her name was such a chore, it was no small wonder that something as simple as existing was taxing her. He didn’t rush her, didn’t make a move toward impatience. Hell, he did everything in his power to even just avoid falling asleep. Friendship was not a boon he could offer the girl, not without knowledge of what Aizen planned to do with her. But he’d not offer her another enemy either.

“You’re awfully polite, Inoue-san.” Were she more amenable to his presence, he’d insist she just call him by his name. He feared correcting the girl might lead her to believe chastisement or punishment would follow. “For what it’s worth, I’m not here to hurt you.”

“Not all Arrancar make a habit of tormenting humans.”

The sentiment was cheap, he knew that much, the need for survival belayed the ability to trust in his words. Still they were true, his own truth at least, stretching out on the coach and kicking his feet up. If she wouldn’t join him, she shouldn’t mind him making the most of it.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

[alpha-sloth]

captainrukia‌:

Rukia leaves him be and goes back to retreat in her other office that was located at the back of her quarters. This was a place she would come rarely: if she wanted to be alone or needed peace and quiet to do her paperwork. But, with whom she was as a person there was never a need to disappear. She always had her work done before finishing up for the day. 

Glancing at the clock, she notes that it had rushed way past dinner. And was getting considerably late. Surely Starrk was awake and she could then either go to bed or get some food. It didn’t really matter what order it fell in. Opening the door to the bedroom, Rukia chuckles softly at his frame rising and falling as he is still fast asleep on the bed.

She walks over to him and nudges his arm gently a few times, ❝ Hey, it’s pretty late. I’m going to make some dinner, do you want any? ❞

By the time he’s stirred from his slumber, night has descended on the Soul Society. For a split second he is reminded of Hueco Mundo and its eternal night, but the mistaken identity it quickly corrected. The skies were always so vast, empty. Soul Society had its own kind of energy.

Turning his attention back to the Shinigami, he pauses to yawn before offering an answer. “Food isn’t so important to an Arrancar,” he explains, reluctantly sitting up. “But I’ll enjoy your company while you eat. If that’s not too odd.”

[alpha-sloth]

hanabiira‌:

“Aren’t you already imposing, by the merit of coming over to cook me something~?” she hums, grinning at him suddenly. His sudden unwillingness to give her a straight answer immediately has her engaged. 

“If you bring someone else, you wouldn’t be imposing any more than you already are~”

Captains were dangerous, huh? “Guess whether or not I bring anyone wouldn’t make me any more or less an imposition. They say the more the merrier.” Try and do a nice thing, get backed into a corner. He needed a nap..

[alpha-sloth]

rangikusan‌:

he was so soft and gentle with her. sometimes she found it hard that he was new to all this. she really did. since he was already pretty darn good at it.

 ‘ painless? sweetie, there’s nothing to be painless about. most of these things are instinct anyway and i’m pretty sure you’ll be just fine. expert? you’re making me sound like a teacher or something and i’m hardly one. but i’m glad you trust me. ‘ she smiled softly at him before he kissed her again and she wrapped her arms around his waist. 

leaning her head against his chest she sighed contently, not wanting this moment to end. just a little while longer. ‘ starrk, you’re already doing really well and don’t need my help. ‘

Opting to take her word for it, a silent prayer to whatever deity deigned to listen to him (would it be in poor taste to shoot Aizen a plea?), he resolved to trust in her, and his instincts. They’d not failed him before..

“Sure I do,” he replied quietly, lids drooping closed as her warmth spread through him, the peace she brought him with her touch, her presence, her body against his own. It was a dangerous position, one that taunted sleep.

“I’ll always need your help.” At the very least, to stave off the loneliness. To beckon in the joy she brought him. “I just hope you’ll lean on me, too.”

[alpha-sloth]

rangikusan‌:

‘ there you go sweet talking me again. I guess it’s a Rangiku special you could say~ ‘ she smiles, forgetting everything just like that. she wondered if he was that much of a master at it or was it more instinctually with him? ‘ tell me starrk, were you a king of flirting at hueco mundo? ‘

“I was pretty much the king of sleeping around.” His answer is quick, blunt, and he pauses a beat before elaborating. “Because I napped a lot.” An attempt at humor, he hopes it doesn’t fall short. “Truth be told, wasn’t a lot of folk interested in flirting. They were a battle loving bunch.”

[alpha-sloth]

((Almost all of my replies, memes and asks are done! I’ll be away for a week or so, so the lads will be running off of a queue (if I can figure out how to use it lol). There’s gonna be some M!A’s that were sent before the time was up, that I never got around to answering, and some threads that are SUPER old because I’m a potato. If you wanna drop them, I completely understand! It’s my bad, really. If I missed your reply, lemme know and I’ll go hunting for it. 

There’s also a couple of cheeky starters in there, or some continuations for asks I sent out. Again, a thousand apologies for the delay on a lot of this stuff. I’ll make it up to you all by giving you another week without me lol))

[alpha-sloth]

I got 99 problems but I’m gonna take a nap and ignore them all.

Nevermind. (via tellme666lies)

[alpha-sloth]

Kick About

Starrk had suspicions of the location of his objective from the moment he’d been handed his treasure, cradled now tightly against his chest beneath crossed arms. The Shinigami had been waiting for him upon his exit, many more than had first stood charge over the place. None had yet drawn their weapons, but the intent was thick. Whether or not they had witnessed his conversation, an Arrancar had left Muken with a gift from Aizen. Suspicion was in their best interest.

Although he found no joy in it, he had been prepared to cut them down if they stood against him. He would not fail, not when he was so close.

It was the sharp clapping and laughter that cut through the tension, an all too familiar straw hat barely visible through the mob. At his behest, and a shared look with Starrk, the Shinigami dispersed. Whether or not there was an agenda there, or words that needed to be exchanged, Starrk cared little. As soon as the path forward was clear, he was off.

The Espada’s invasion into Karakura Town had failed even before their defeat, the Gotei 13 having swapped out the real thing for a duplicate. Although that had been irksome, what it meant now was that the site of their defeat, the graveyard of so many-- it was still within the Soul Society.

The helmet acted as a compass, locked on to the one thing it needed. That they both needed, so desperately, so completely. He required only to listen to his soul, to follow its call. Far outside the Shinigami’s barracks, past districts whose names he didn’t know, denizens who cared little of his intent.

Into the ruins of the fake Karakura Town.

The debris, the landscape, every faded scorch mark.. he remembered them clearly. It might not have been yesterday, but it certainly was the most important day in his life. The day he had died. Melodramatic? Perhaps, but not without truth. The Primera Espada had ceased to be in both title and soul.

Moving slowly, carefully, attentive towards any traps or ambushes that might waylay him, it was in a mound of rubble the his soul finally screamed out in relief. The helmet, now hot in his hands, brimming with energy and potential, almost quivered. The final piece lay atop the mound, the portion of the mask that resided just over her left eye, starred up at him.

Kneeling down, fingers brushing tentatively over the fragment, he drew a short breath. If this didn’t work, he was sure his heart would break in two. And if it did, he might just die from the joy. In either case, fragment taken between forefinger and thumb, slotted gently into it’s home within the mask, Coyote Starrk would die today.

His only hope was that the Primera Espada would be born anew.

@candymetralleta​

[alpha-sloth]

shinkakuka‌:

Starrk had always been loyal, his ambitions were simple but his willingness to pursue them was tenacious and absolute: he could not bear the isolation he felt. Perhaps on one level or another their origins were comparable: each aware that their existence was too much, but while Aizen had embraced his solitude, Starrk had suffered by it.

Aizen’s copper-stained eye settled upon the chip that the Primera offered up: all that remained of Lilynette. The side that personified his energy and his enthusiasm, all lost leaving him numb –– no matter how many others he surrounded himself with, the void remained.

Again perhaps there was a parallel: Starrk created a companion to keep him afloat, where Aizen created a persona to aid him with his endeavours. The soft, affable captain had certainly been more popular and only reaffirmed his sense of disconnect with the world.

But unlike Starrk, Aizen had no qualms about bringing about an end to that work of fiction.

He had no need of facets and personas beyond their immediate usage –– once the captain had outlived his usefulness, it was only sensible that he should be discarded. Things that ceased to have a use to him were not worth an after thought.

A smile tugged Aizen’s lips as Starrk apologised and offered thanks, “Show me your gratitude with your deeds, Starrk,” his reiatsu flared up, became heavier and more suffocating if that were possible. Almost the embodiment of a void.

Without hesitation, Aizen lifted his arm up; the black fetters strapping the limb down unfolded like broken bandages, he curled ebony-clan fingers around the chip and held it. Indigo light gleamed in the gaps between his fingers as the Hōgyoku’s power was summoned to life.

The orb’s domineering existence was palpable as Aizen commanded its power to suit his whims; the light grew fierce and cut through even the heavy fog of Muken. Once the light died down there was a familiar helmet sitting in the God’s lap, but the young owner was not yet present. Part of the mask was yet missing: the part that covered her eye.

“It seems a fragment of her yet helm remains in the world,” Aizen remarked as he offered the almost complete helm to Starrk, “Find that piece, and Lilynette shall be once more. Perhaps by that point, I will have need of you to demonstrate your gratitude, Starrk.” ”

Although he’d never expected to understand the display he alone was privy to, it was still far more theatrical than he’d anticipated. Reiatsu rose to dizzying levels, but Starrk resolved himself not to falter, nor flinch. His God was performing a miracle, and the first blade would not dishonor him by bending now. Not if, should his delusions be entertained, this miracle were all for him.

Constraints that held Aizen melted away, their role nothing more than a superficial claim to imprisonment. Starrk maintained the mindset that at any point, on any given day, Aizen would stroll out of this place and resume his tasks. Fanatical? Maybe. Even a nihilist would see worth in the theory.

As the light enveloped the shard, instinct was quickly smothered. To reach out and snatch back what was his, to save it from this alien presence. He rejected it, resisted it. Allowed the magic to work its course, to achieve his goal--

Gaze pierced quickly through the fading light, gingerly receiving the helmet. Powered swirled within it, familiar and warm. His heart ached and his knees trembled, but overwhelming both those sensations was the longing of his soul. The beckoning that now echoed throughout his core, tugging him toward where he knew he must go.

“I’ll await your signal, my Lord.” The Shinigami mightn’t allow another meeting, and pity the fool who might attempt to claim the helmet from him. When next he was summoned, however, it would not be as a forlorn layabout. A vagabond seeking answers. Reiatsu flared in silent salute, sonido carrying him out of this impotent tomb, impatience winning out over any remaining ceremony.

When next he was called, it would be as a whole. Entrance could be advised at gunpoint.

[alpha-sloth]

[alpha-sloth]

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[alpha-sloth]