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bambibasterbine:

” Jeez, stop tryin’ to sound so smart. You’re here with us, and ya can’t do a thing about it. You should be grateful a cute little girl decided to approach you instead of a big old weirdo like Buzzbee or Shaz. Regardless…I’m gonna have fun with ya, Ishida-Kun!”

Hardly impressed by her so-called ‘courtesy’, a brief sigh - somewhat labored - emits through parted lips; both tedious in motion and uncharacteristic.

“How fortunate for me, I suppose.” Is his spoken reply; noted sarcasm practically dripping from his words. “Though you can spare me the tour; I’m quite adaptable and easily adjusted, thank you very much. There’s no need to waste time on such insignificant matters.”

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bambibasterbine:

” D’awww. You’re so mean! Who wouldn’t be wanna be friends with the great Bambietta?”

“Considering the fact that such qualities you fail to posses involve not only manners, but a comparable personality -  it’s of no surprise to me if those whom surround you are anything less than your friends.”

“However, I must commend you on such brashness; most individuals discard such traits upon recognizing that they cease to coexist fluently with that of those around them.”

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bambibasterbine:

ishidauryuu liked your post.


”I’m so glad nerd boy agrees with me. We’ll be best friends.”

“I’m hardly agreeing.”

“Though your thoughtless accusations truly are debatable.”

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† gigante-amable has approached you,

Perhaps it was the odd amount of concentration in which it took for him to complete his task, or maybe it was something far more small in comparison and seemingly insignificant. No matter the reason, such admissions were no excuse for the archer’s momentary lapse of reality — seeing as such preoccupied concerns made it so that the movement of those unnervingly familiar individuals nearly escaped his notice.

Almost, that is.

“Sado-Kun—?” Voicing the others’ name in a questioning tone, it’s as the Quincy inclines his chin and glances upwards do his spectacles begin to decline. Reaching upwards in what could be considered a force of habit, pale fingertips adjust those which help strengthen his impaired vision; pressing the metallic nose-piece up the bridge of his nasal canal.

“I wasn’t aware that you were in the area. My sincerest apologies for my lack of attention.” Reflected rims gleam at this, his adjustment causing the sun’s rays to bore down at new angles. Despite that, a calm, reserved sort of smile graces the teens features; nearly miniscule in comparison to that of the average. Though his smiles are rare, regardless; such occasions are simply tranquil, relax; deserving of such. “For what do I owe this pleasure?”

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bakastrawberry:

{ ♤ } Hostility was all that ever would come from the pair; all in which instigated by the Substitute and rarely by that of the Quincy’s words. A matured adolescent visage would bear no expressionism,  hazel orbs not moving from the sight of the bespectacled cerulean ones that were bearing the foreboding glare they held for the majority of the time. Such words would have no affect upon the Substitute, though, they would give leeway to freedom from a discussion that was wished to be left. “—Ya know what? Fine, I’ll keep ma nose outta yer business, Ishida.” 

Such fabricated words seemed translucent, at best. Being spoken with a slight amount of sincerity which - had Ishida been any more oblivious and all the more gullible, might have believed. Though by now, his mind had adsorbed such knowledge and had come to an absolute understanding that despite the fact Ichigo’s words were laced with underlying promises, perhaps its counter-intuitive in contrast to the opposing thoughts which his mind creates.

Therefore, perhaps the facts are missing from the words which Ichigo knows to be true. Or at the very least, in this case, they’ll unknowingly be forgotten.

“When you’ve placed your words into actions, then and only then shall I believe you, Kurosaki. Though it doesn’t surprise me that you’ve jumped both carelessly and thoughtlessly into feigning promises you’re most likely not to keep.”

(Source: ishidauryuu)

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“How unfortunate.”

It seems as though foregoing, or really, neglecting replies for an elongated amount of time has resulted in a pile (a mass) which is currently increasing steadily in rate that needs to be taken care of. How unfortunate that it just so happens that I wish to create new threads for those whom I’ve recently begun to follow, but am unable to do so because of this.

My inconsistency truly is horrendous at times.

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{outofpride.} Do not fret, my darlings; it’s obvious that Ishida’s only going to the ‘bad’ side for a handful of reasons.

One, Juha Bach (or however you prefer to spell it) was the one responsible for the death of both his mother, as well as many other Quincies. He must want some sort of revenge, however little - and knows that if he refuses to join Juha, to get said revenge would be impossible because Juha could simply eliminate him as he did Katagiri, his mother.

Or maybe Ishida really wants Mayuri dead and is like, excitedly pumped to destroy the captain. xD But I highly doubt that. Ryuken probably already knows what Ishida’s done and has deemed him foolish, or doesn’t know yet and we’ll see him fight like the cool, badass pure Quincy that he is to take his son back. (With Ichigo’s help!) ‘Cause we both know that will happen if Ishida’s not completely bullshitting it.

All in all, I’m… not worried? Even if he is on the bad side, though, sorry guys but it looks like that’s the way I’m heading. I sway like tumbleweed; going in whichever direction Ishida so happens to be placed within—

:’D (But we’ll discuss on a later date how Kubo said Ishida’s mom died 9 years ago, when he was 8 because his Sensei fucking died around that age and that means he’d have lost both and I’m not happy with you Kubo. B|)

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“How troublesome.”

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bakastrawberry:

       { ♤ } Appendages rose to cross about his muscular frame. “T’ch, if I was twelve maybe those words woulda mattered; I couldn’t give a fuck ‘bout what ya gotta say now.” 

Contemplating whether or not to respond in kind, its when atmospheric optics glance forcibly at the Substitute does irritation arise. Lips tightening in order to create a thin line, irate and slightly demanding; pale fingertips reach vertically - a swift, upwards motion soon following in the adjustment of frameless spectacles. Aiding his vision in simplistic forms, only when contentment fills him at a satisfactory rate does he remove his hand - gaze hardening upon making contact with the others’ taller form. “If that’s how you feel, then perhaps it’s best to ignore that which does not concern you.”

In other words: Mind your own business, Kurosaki Ichigo. Your added comments and criticism is neither wanted nor needed. (And most certainly not helpful.)

(Source: ishidauryuu)

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scientific-method replied to your post: 

sucks man

“I don’t believe I filed a request for your opinion, Shinigami.”

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iuvenes-flos:

The female hugged her pillow, leaving the books on her bed. She didn’t want to study more… Her head was hurting a lot. Also her belly and her body…

Sighing, the girl let her fall on the bed. And then, she started to kick the mattress. Why even if today was a pretty sunny day, she had to stay in home studying boring things that she couldn’t understand even after read it more than 6 times?

    “… I wanna go outside.”

Bright skies, seemingly translucent in substance despite the clear sense of formability they held within each passing cloud moved, grazing overhead as though giving guidance to those whom had perhaps lost their way. However helpful and transfixed - harsh rays which bore tremendously through parted white fleece resulted in slanted, narrowed eyes - both shielded by the hand and tipped downwards so that such nuisances could be avoided. Yet their efforts were at a loss, due to the ever changing geography with each movement of his feet.

With a prolonged sigh, silent mantras of repeated annoyance fluttered carelessly and effortlessly through parted lips. Had the day been slightly duller, or grey in comparison to the blearing white - perhaps then would such activities of visiting the place which was once considered home would not have been in vain. Though that thought alone could be perhaps deemed debatable.

Glancing up at the towered walls of the house which stood before him, its rooted presence seemed almost ironic - due to the fact that all those years ago, he had been able to leave it so easily. But, his mind nagged to remind him - had certain events not caused such a downfall, the building which seemed almost abandoned by those who lived in it might have had the potential to be filled with anything other than silence and shame. However, it would seem as though Ryuken was responsible for that. (In his opinion, at the very least.)

With the extending of his arm and the adjustment of plastic bags, the motion was passed for brief and quick seconds; before the tips of pale knuckles raptures quietly at the door - asking for entrance, painstakingly so. 

Though in the back of his mind, a part of him hopes that the man isn’t home. For even though his efforts in making the slightest advancement would be for not, perhaps it would be easier… just the tiniest bit… easier…

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petiteshinigami:

Perching her eyebrow, Rukia sighed, leaning against the ragged texture of the metallic, fingers looping through the circular shapes. It’s been truthfully, nice and relaxing to hop on by to the town where her journey soared. Never in the shinigami’s life, she would have envisioned anything she was going through, or met the people she has befriended along the way. A grin surfaces at the mere flash of memories. Pondering on her own swirl of thoughts, a familiar face starts becoming prominent to her irises. 

Violet orbs widened as he started approaching, sunny rays reflecting against the rims of his bifocals. In her presence was, Uryu Ishida. There were many adjectives that could have elaborately described her thoughts and emotions towards him. ( None of them negative, however. Most would probably be smart, strong, the basics of how Rukia tends to feel about a majority of her friends.) “Evening, Ishida.” She nods, crossing her arms. “Mm—. Fairly well, indeed. How about you, Ishida?” Rukia transfixes her gaze upon the other, curious in what he has to say through a rather, blunt expression.

It was in hearing her response did, at that exact moment, pale fingers begin to glide within the confides of sewn fabric. Placing his hand (more specifically, his left) into his pocket as lithe yet surprisingly toned legs carried the archer towards the female’s rooted direction, both eyes remained trained upon the female’s petite form - both inquisitive yet calculating, their iris’ in deep focus towards that which he’d converse with.

However, in response to her words of her spoken condition, a simple nod was given. Had he ignored her answer and altered his course to take aim solely towards that which was asked of him, the chivalrousness which he of course, takes pride in, might have been poorly forgotten. (Which he by all means, deems unacceptable.)

“I’m quite content, thank you.” Was his form of reply, both simple in words though not uncharacteristically so. Adjusting his glasses, both as the light seemed to catch them and their cool, metallic frames begin to glide down the bridge of his nose; its then does his head tilt in slight continuation, his lips parting to speak once more. “Seeing as the periodic account of hollow activity has decreased throughout the week, it leaves more time for tasks levelled far more important.”

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“It’s almost as though waking up becomes more strenuous with age.” Or perhaps troublesome, should he be required to re-phrase that.

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† thequincyarcher has approached you,

Had it not been for the subtle sounds which so carelessly emit, perhaps in reaction towards the other’s movements - Ishida might not have noticed. Might not have bothered to perhaps even ponder the very thought of someone having the ability to follow him without being caught within the Quincy’s ever perceptional and unavoidable radar. Though his other senses in which each individual body was born with, were an entirely different matter altogether.

Glancing up from where he knelt, atmospheric optics gazed upwards from beneath obscured lenses. Both mystified, and slightly intrigued, it’s then that a pale hand - delicately stained by the powder-white dust which collected at his feet reaches up to adjust at metallic frames; both silently in motion, yet ever so swift. 

“Good evening.” Is his subtle remark, the greeting lacking far more than the usual politeness which normally escapes him. Its either due to the fact that the one presented before him is, in fact, himself - otherwise it’s because of reasons which he is currently unaware of. For now, the answer is translucent. 

“Though I inquire in asking that you present your name, perhaps it’s a question which can be left unanswered. For I have this notion that you and I, our very responses to the unspoken statement won’t differ as much as one would expect them to be.”