Peter Solarz
No title available
RMH
hello vonnie
Cosmic Funnies
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
shark vs the universe
DEAR READER
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Claire Keane
JVL
★
NASA
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
dirt enthusiast
styofa doing anything
KIROKAZE
todays bird
#extradirty
seen from Singapore
seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Egypt
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from France
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seen from T1
seen from United States
seen from Canada
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@trutinae-a
A polite nod, the hint of a smile, and his voice light and warm. After all, one must be civil when addressing oneself. "Many happy returns on your birthday, Jugram."
Little time is wasted in returning the nod, head dipping just enough to allow blond strands to slip and fall lightly over his eyes. It was paid no attention, pale lashes descending over his gaze.
❝ And you as well, Jugram.❞
OK i did my duty (duty lol) of making a pun on hasch its time to throw my fabulous maybelline model on a hiatus.
ya’ll know where to find me otherwise!!
If you live long enough, you see the same eyes in different people.
Maz Kanata, Star Wars - The Force Awakens (via giuromeo)
me, forgetting i have a haschwalth blog: what the fuck
me, forgetting i have a haschwalth blog: what the fuck
“Now I shall put an end to this ruse, Before his majesty awakens…”
Ah, there we go. That’s exactly what he wished for him to do. The moment it was free he had no doubts that it would be put to use; that sword he’d grasped so quickly. Not a word was spoken out about it, not a single indication given that showed his interest in the Quincy using his weapon, he just went on with his attack.
He went along with it right until the moment that blade made contact. He let it hit, allowed the attack to strike him. The moment it did lips peeled back into a menacing grin.
As the spirit pulled back his form split where the blade had swiped, slowly breaking up and fading into gradient colors. A pleased chuckle left the struck down illusion before it had vanished from existence completely.
The grass behind the other crunched with the noticeable weight of a heel against it, a foot twisting against the ground and a leg that had been reeled up against the spirits chest was now springing forth to strike. Heel pointed and aimed for the Quincy’s spine with as much force as he could muster behind it.
His distraction worked just as he had wished it to, and the toss of his blade had put it in a perfect placement to lift it up as soon as his attack was set in play.
Reckless? Yes, he was fighting in such a way before. However, be refused to let things play out so easily for the other any longer. Things would be done right from this moment on.
“A mere Zanpakutou. A tool... I’ve heard such a thing before. It brings back some memories.”
There was a quiet click of his sword as it was properly positioned within his hand once more.
“Would you like to know what happened to the last person who told me such a thing?”
“I would certainly love to tell the tale.”
Resistance was to be expected with every strike of his sword -- clothing, flesh... Each provided a barrier in which the sharpness of his blade was forced through with deadly precision and the moment he felt the sensation of slicing air there was the realization that his enemy was no longer in front of him. Haschwalth’s momentum in his swing was far too strong to stop so suddenly and the steel swept through a mere illusion of his opponent that quickly dissipated into nothing.
A foolish mistake made with the opportunity to put the Zanpakuto spirit in his place.
His lips pursed and the Grandmaster began to twist at the sound of an impending attack, but his late realization to his situation lagged his reaction time until it was too late. He was forced forward with a powerful kick to his back, and being in mid-turn the attack gave an awkward push that caused him to twist while simultaneously being shoved forward.
Haschwalth dipped forward purposefully and allowed the momentum of his twist to direct his trajectory, causing him to both turn toward Muramasa and find the ground once again in a flurry of blond hair and the bright fabric of his cloak. Landing in a deep crouch, his gaze narrowed sharply as the grip on his blade shifted to something more comfortable.
❝ I see... ❞ he said, placing the tip of his blade to the ground and using it to stand to his full height once again -- effectively ignoring the other spirit’s offer to hear his tale. ❝ So you’ve managed to have a stroke of good fortune with your attack. ❞
The Quincy paused and removed the tip of his sword from the ground with a swift flick of his wrist as he stepped forward confidently. ❝ Every moment of fortune must be equaled with a moment of misfortune. ❞
And suddenly he was gone with another use of Hirenkyaku, reappearing before what he knew was the true body of his opponent with another swing downward of his trusted sword, this time expecting the very resistance of slicing through flesh and bone.
❝ Thus is the reality of battle. ❞
B] (there's always a moment when I will be in Danna's inbox)
❝ Is there something you require or are you merely attempting to pull me from my duties? ❞
Tch. Another miss.
Teeth were grit together with great irritation once the Quincy had left his sights again, cursing mentally upon hearing him land. All he did was avoid him time and again, not a single action to strike back. Surely he didn’t rely upon that sword alone, did he? No, that would be wishful thinking. There was more to him, he was sure of that. He couldn’t make such accusations and then act upon them.
He was right, though. Muramasa was fighting recklessly, far too recklessly to be quite honest. It was hard not to.
The one who had been so patient with him, that had been a light in his time of darkness… he’d been ripped away; broken by this vile individual! The rage and anger he felt was willingly fed, the fire that burned being allowed to spread and consume every action he took. It didn’t matter to him, so long as he could eventually destroy the force that took his life away.
…but that would have to change.
The Quincy’s words were heard quite clearly, anger evident upon the Zanpakutou’s face. It fueled that burning ache within him, vision becoming stained with red. A warm, copper-tasting liquid rose in his throat and was quickly swallowed down, his gaze unwavering upon his enemy. Let his body suffer, it didn’t matter. He’d kill him before this was over.
In went a deep breath and out came a soft sigh. Eyes were delicately shut, the blood that ran down his face left untouched for the time being. Upon reopening his eyes, the sclera was clear. For now.
“I wish not for victory. I simply hunger for your demise.”
Fingers were quickly twisted to turn the grip of his sword, blade held downward before his arm was reeled back. A quick calculation, a steady aim– and the sword was being thrown forth like a javelin, and the Zanpakutou, with the help of a shunpo, was quick to follow.
Arm, once more, pulled back with fingers knit closely together, nails acting as a makeshift dagger… and the thread used to bind the Quincy was removed.
His focus lay elsewhere.
To run, to dodge, was to survive. As a weak child with no more talent than a stray dog, Haschwalth had learned from experience.Experience and an excited brat who didn’t know when to keep quiet. He had taught himself well, and those skills would not fail him in a meager battle with that of an ownerless Zanpakuto.
At first the Quincy had thought it strange. His knowledge of Shinigami may have been limited, but there was a certainty deep within his thoughts that a blade was not to exist without its master -- their souls were one, linked in a bond that the Wandenreich found pitiful. Abandoned, perhaps? This was, for all intents and purposes, the middle of nowhere. The chance of discovery from someone who was not searching for him was low.
This one was hiding.
❝ I am afraid you will not get the chance to succeed. You are a mere Zanpakuto. A tool without a master in the face of an insurmountable force. Do you truly believe you can take vengeance for him despite-- ❞
He spoke too long; the glint of a blade directed his attention to the weapon that had been thrown with tremendous force. Haschwalth dipped on instinct and dropped to half a knee to avoid the steel point. Hair having been tossed upward with the motion, he watched as pieces of a few cut strands drifted to the ground.
But there..! The pressure enclosed around his hand dissipated as if it ere never there to begin with, and a teal gaze narrowed slightly. Was this on purpose? Apart of a grand plan that he was not yet aware of? Perhaps, but he could also not take the chance of refusing to draw his own blade against this opponent, and it slid free with a smooth scrape of steel to finally be brandished in the sunlight.
Wrist twisted with honed practice as he chose the exact angle he wished to hold his sword, legs suddenly pressing forward with the assistance of a Hirenkyaku to meet Muramasa halfway. He swung upward, aiming toward his opponent’s dominant shoulder with the intent to sever the arm or render it useless by cutting deep into the muscle and tendons.
Eyes refused to falter from their target, locked in place with a fire burning behind them. He would give it no time to consume his vision, not yet. His focus sat upon this Quincy and the grip he held upon his arm, to keep him from attacking was his best plan of action for the time being while he would try and strike him down.
Everything he could muster he’d throw into each swing, each step, each breath– blood upon his hands was thought of as unsightly; unnecessary, but he would gladly go against that now. This Quincy would be broken, just as the blade he spoke of!
As Muramasa drew near he was met with a stronger fury at watching his prey leap from his sight, sword being swung before he had time to go against his planned action. If irritation was not visible enough upon his face, then the fact his blade crashed against the ground below it should be a sign in itself.
It did not stop there. As soon as the blade hit, as soon as the crater formed he was gone from that position. A Shunpo used to quickly turn him in place, launching himself once more. A snarl slipped passed clenched teeth as his Zanpakutou was, once again, readied to strike.
“To Hell with your sympathy!!
I’ve no fear of death, so the consequences of this mean little to me! I am a Zanpakutou, I am bred for battle, I am made to spill blood. I will do as my being commands; I will fight without hesitation!”
I will fight for vengeance, I will BREAK you… !!
There was no shame in running.
Still unable to unsheathe his blade, Haschwalth had no choice but to avoid all that was thrown at him. He flipped in mid air, in a graceful arc that allowed him to keep his eyes on his opponent, teal gaze watching the Zanpakuto carefully and precisely deducing exactly what had kept him from drawing his own blade. There was still that distinct pressure atop the hand that gripped the hilt, and while it was clear it was coming from his opponent, exactly how was a mystery he had yet to piece together.
No matter; in time it would reveal itself. Haschwalth had more than one talent and could do more than swing his sword about. The frightening calm that blanketed his form kept him steady in the face of an opponent who could not keep a level head, as evident in the erratic and thoughtless movements he was witnessing. And his own steel resolve was enough of an advantage.
His jumping arc wasn’t even completed before yet another Hirenkyaku propelled him yet again out of the path of the Zanpakuto, this time toward the ground with frightening speed. He twisted, one again making sure his eyes never left the other’s movements, and allowed himself to skid to a stop.
❝ No fear of death... ❞ he repeated monotonously. ❝ Is that why you fight recklessly? Because you believe you are capable of victory? Or is it that you’re hoping you’ll suffer defeat and see the sword of Kurosaki Ichigo once more? I can’t even bring myself to remember its name. ❞ Quickly, he remembered how pathetically quick it had broken with only a single swing of his sword, a once fearsome blade reduced to rubbish on the ground.
❝ I am afraid you will never lay eyes on him again. All that awaits you in the afterlife is nothingness. ❞
Jugram Haschwalth
BLEACH 661
can i call u son, son
only if i can call u tiny dad, tiny dad
[4:31:11 PM] GLaDOS.: waggles his butt @ mura mura is suddenly rejuvenated [4:31:15 PM] hugokugutsu: SHIT [4:31:23 PM] GLaDOS.: like he stands up and starts fighting like new [4:31:40 PM] hugokugutsu: he does a youthful roar [4:31:56 PM] GLaDOS.: "I CANT DIE..... NOT WHILE... I HAVE SOMEBUTTY... COUNTING ON ME... TO LIVE...!!!" [4:32:03 PM] hugokugutsu: oSOME BU UT [4:32:11 PM] GLaDOS.: B) [4:32:18 PM] hugokugutsu: PYRA [4:32:28 PM] GLaDOS.: B))
Broken. Broken. BROKEN.
The word kept repeating in his mind, over and over, the voice for it growing louder with each repeat. It was burning itself into memory, coursing through his body and snapping every nerve it came in contact with. With each snapped nerve his reiatsu seemed to spike, raging around him, black bleeding into what should be that of a soft lavender.
He could hear them, too. Laughter, hungered growls and snapping jaws… all pushing him forward, encouraging his rage. For a split second; for that brief moment– he almost let them. Let them have their way with his emotions, let the beasts break free.
It showed in his eyes, for that split second. Turquoise burning a bright red.
…but he allowed them to close. Turning their cheering away, letting his energy give a final burst before it settled and he welcomed the calm silence that stood around him next.
“… I see. What you say about Kurosaki Ichigo means very little to me, but how you speak of his blade–…”
“–is unacceptable.”
There was no time wasted in shooting himself forward in a flash, blade materialized within seconds, but he would not be taken lightly. This individual held the power to break a zanpakutou, so his plan was to avoid being broken, himself. Not again.
With his assault in motion a ghostly limb was sent ahead of him; a hand to clasp over the Quincy’s own and–hopefully–hold that sword of theirs in place. He could tell it wouldn’t be a long lasting solution, but it was one to try none the less. At least for a first strike to land.
An explanation for having previously sensed an underlying feeling of Hollows had been given as Haschwalth witnessed the Zanpakuto’s angry reiatsu burst forward with the inner edges trickling into an inky black. It had been the blade himself that had been the cause of it, though the discovery had only created further question as to why. The answer of which would have to wait; the knowledge of Hollow reishi being embedded in that of this blade had been enough to place the Grandmaster on caution.
Quincy destroyed Hollows, yes, but that came at a necessary sacrifice to balance their overwhelming power over the broken souls. They were poison to their polar opposites -- and dangerous to the Holy race.
Fingers of his right hand wrapped around the long handle of his own blade, one foot placed back in order to ground himself as the enemy approached with stunning speed -- only for his movements to remove his sword from its sheath to be halted by an unseen force. He felt pressure over his left hand, as if something had been holding it and his weapon in place. Glancing down only for a fraction of a second to weigh his options, Haschwalth’s gaze steeled at the sight of the other’s Zanpakuto materializing for an attack.
Placing avoidance of injury as his first priority, Haschwalth quickly pressed reiatsu into the soles of his feet, a timely Hirenkyaku propelled the Grandmaster up above his opponent while he considered a solution for this force placed upon his weapon.
❝ ... So you consider Tensa Zangetsu, rather than his wielder, important. Enough so to blindly charge into battle without concern for your own safety. You have my sympathy. ❞
“so then you must believe in time, in fate?” he deduced with a rhetorical question. the other must have thought DIO a simpleton for asking such an ( to quote ) “inane” question.
“if you control gravity you control time, you control fate,” he mocked, approaching the other and pointing a clawed finger at. “you stand before me speaking of this war’s FATE, though you do not control gravity, you have no power over time, you are meaningless to fate. is that a simple enough explanation for you?”
Haschwalth continued to listen as the man furthered the parallel he had attempted to make, only for the pieces to fall together soon after. An insinuation of having no control as to the path the battle would take would have been quite the point to make -- had the Grandmaster been anyone else.
“It is true that I cannot control gravity -- nor the flow of time, however, the ability to tip the scales in the Wandenreich’s favor is all that is necessary to determine the fate of the war,” he returned, teal gaze focused pointedly at the finger extended in his direction.
“That is my purpose in this battle.”
We are friends. Aren’t we.
