#bloeddorst

Stares.

"Cause she aint a fuckin' pussy, kurosaki!"

“Finally, a worthy opponent.”

“Our battle will be LEGENDARY.”

He scratched his face where his scar met the corner of his mouth, his single eye sliding across the Fifth's courtyard to distinguish where the wrappers were leading to. This was not even one of her favourite divisions to terrorise either. The Fifth { aside from its captain } was terribly normal and dull. Maybe she was on her way to the Sixth. Hirako's suggestion has him guffaw momentarily. "Good one." No one told Yachiru what to do, not even him. Everyone knew /that/.

          Shinji had his arms akimbo as he gazed about the completely messed up state of the front yard with a faint furrow between his brow. Amazingly enough, there was not a single Shinigami present other than for the two Captains - his men and women had all disappeared cleanly the moment they sensed Zaraki, huh. Smart people. Too smart actually, those asses. 

          The blond gazed at the other taichou, then, and rather expectantly. 

Kenpachi.

Ughhhh… she really needed to avoid the jingle-bells captain. But at least, he wasn’t spoiling for a fight or asking her to get off his lawn or something. She did actually have an armload of shopping, only because she was going to prepare some dishes for New Year’s.

And let’s face it, Hiyori always had food. Her pockets were loaded with them. 

(» send me ↕ + your muse’s height )

Jun: 6′5.5″Kenpachi: 6′7.5.”

Zaraki isn’t wrong, per se. The turkey leg looks like it has more meat on it than both of Shuuhei’s arms do. The thought makes Shuuhei’s stomach give a small, uneasy flop. He isn’t some tiny bird that can eat half its body weight in one meal. But, it isn’t every day that a member of the Eleventh (let alone its captain) offers up food to somebody else. There could be a division skirmish if he doesn’t handle this politely.

“Um… th-thank you, Zaraki-taichou. I’ll… do my best.”