My lesbeyriah fan fiction is like this: in 1991 Beyoncé is 10 years old dancing around in her living room when she sees this young woman in a black dress, this great singer with this big ol head of curly hair, singing this song, vision of love, on TV, and she decides right then to become a singer. and then she makes a name for herself as the lead of destinys child yadda yadda but a little over a decade later, her solo career is still budding and it’s in that stage in her career, pre-superstar legendyoncé, when she still has like scene teenager hair, in 2003 like as she’s gearing up to release Dangerously in love, that she meets mariah at this Versace show and is heart eyes (you can see Tina in the back going “oh fuck”) and then they have an affair that still continues to this day. Mariah openly expresses dislike for most other female singers especially the ones that threaten her and surpass her but she has always praised and loved and still loves Beyoncé and that’s why. Bey also gave her the butterfly ring as a token of their secret love. Jay Z is B’s beard but B7 is her breakup AND coming out album and finally in 2018, 15 years later, they get married
This is based on a request from anon: “Hellooo~ I’d like to request a scenario with zelo x reader, where zelo befriends a girl that isn’t his “type” (like she’s pretty different than him) but then he slowly starts to fall for her genuine personality. I hope that made sense xD”
A/N: Yeah it made sense don’t worry xD. I don’t know what his ideal type is like. I have never heard about that. So I made his ideal type from my own mind. The type I find more suitable with him. xDD. Enjoy reading guys <33
“Do you want to go out?” Zelo suddenly asked you. Both of you were at his dorm playing video games. You were a little bored that you throw the arms on the couch. Laying back on the ground.
“Where do you want to go?” You asked looking up at him as he was still sitting next to you.
Zelo was silent for a minute thinking until he finally opened his mouth. “I don’t know.”
“Ah Seriously” You chuckled, turning to your side, your back now was facing him.
You’re not going to believe what I’m
about to tell you. Hell, I don’t even believe it myself. But believe it or not,
this happened. I really wish it didn’t, because what happened to me has made me
“aware” and I realise now, that when it comes to supernatural stuff, ignorance
It happened about 2 months ago. My
manager and I were sent on a business trip together. We were supposed to attend
some sort of conference in a different city to help “expand our company’s
influence”. Jay (my boss) and I got along pretty well, and it would be my first
business trip with this company, so I was pretty excited to be doing something
different other than sitting at my boring cubicle.
Our plane landed around 9:00PM and by
the time the taxi pulled up to where we would be spending the night, it was
pretty dark out. Being as cheap as they are, my company booked our lodging at
an “oldish” inn close to the office building where the conference would be
held. The place looked like its seen way too many customers. Don’t get me wrong
it could have been a lot worse, but its standards were certainly lower than your
average 3-star hotel.
We walked up to the reception and Jay told the
receptionist that we had 2 rooms booked under our company’s name. The
receptionist handed us 2 key cards and pointed us towards the elevators. At
least they had key cards, I half expected her to hand us old fashion keys.
We walked up to our rooms which were
situated side-by-side at the end of the hall on the 3rd floor. Now let me
reiterate, I’m not a superstitious person, when there’s a bump in the night, I
would explain it as wind or old floor boards. So when Jay says that he would
prefer to not spend the night in the room at the end of the hall, because 90%
of hall-end rooms are haunted, I didn’t complain. After all when you’re on your
first business trip with your boss, you don’t argue about which room to get.
After we agreed to put our stuff away,
and meet downstairs in 15 minutes for dinner, I walked into my room. Once
again, it was not as bad as I thought it would be. The lights were on in the
room and it was pretty well lit. To my direct left was the open doorway to the
washroom and to my right is one of those closets with the sliding mirror doors.
Walking down the mini-hall opens up to your typical hotel room with 2 double
beds on the left hand side and a TV cupboard on the right. Straight in front
are the curtains to the sliding doors that most likely leads to a patio.
I did what I always do when first
entering a hotel room, check to make sure all the taps run hot water, and the
toilet flushes. It wasn’t superstition or anything, just good sense, if the
room doesn’t run hot water, I’d want a new room right away. I walked into the
washroom and flicked on the lights, which took a couple seconds to blink on,
and the first thing I noticed, was that the curtains to the bathtub was drawn.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and I felt like someone was standing
behind the curtain looking at me.
“You guys know what shadow people are, right? The name kind of gives it away. They’re shadows and also people, look like a silhouette, you get the idea.
Anyway, this was back when I was maybe 10 or 11 years old. I’m over at a friend’s place and we go out back in the forest behind his house. We walking through some tall brush, when out of the corner of my eye, I see what looks like the silhouette of a head and shoulders rise over the brush. I ignore it, thinking I was just seeing things.
A short while later, we’re out on a wide trail, when something darts across the path in front of us. It looked like the silhouette of a man, hunched over, running from one side to the other, somehow leaving the plants on either side were perfectly intact.
My friend turns to me and goes, “holy shit, did you see that?” I did, and we got out of that forest as fast as we could. We sat in his house, terrified, and I mentioned the head and shoulders I initially saw. Turns out he saw them too, and just ignored them like I did. What we saw still freaks me out to this day, nearly 10 years later, because we never really knew what we saw.”
WE’RE GETTING ANOTHER BABYYYY!! She’s a 10 year old fat ass tabby cat who was left in a box outside the shelter. She’s literally the fattest cat I’ve ever seen and she’s so stinkin precious and the first time we met her, she put her head in my hands and fell asleep and I fell head over heels in love.
But we can’t pick a name! We were going between Mabel and Gertie (Gertrude) but we just don’t feel like we’ve gotten the right name yet. We’re going for either a drag queen name (to fit with Ru’s name, obviously) or an old lady name. Comic book lady names are also accepted ☺️Help us pick!
There was one time last year where we were going over an english exam in class and I got really bored and started mumbling ‘I could be watching Teen Wolf right now’ and everyone started talking and laughing and then my teacher (and year head) asked me to stay behind. I thought I was just talking too loudly and was in trouble but then my teacher (40 year old woman) called me up and started aSKING ME WHAT SEASON I WAS ON AND WHAT I SHIPPED AND WE HAD A FULL CONVERSATION ABOUT TEEN WOLF AND I WAS LIKE 10 MINUTES LATE FOR MY NEXT CLASS AND I HAVE NEVER HAD SO MUCH RESPECT FOR THAT WOMAN OMg
Cover edit/photo credit to idi0tics. Everyone follow her, she’s super sweet! :) Submit me your covers here and it might appear on the next chapter/wattpad!
“Kathryn?” I turn my head and see Mrs. Finnegan walking towards me along the white bridge. She catches my eye and smiles sweetly, “Hi, honey. Here’s some clean clothing for you and Jamie.” She hands me a pile of neatly folded garments. “They’re nothing fancy. Just some old clothes.”
Biting my lip, I look up at her and smile gratefully, “Thank you, Mrs. Finnegan.”
“Of course, darling. Feel free to use whatever appliances you want in there. The TV, shower, microwave, whatever you need.” She gives a wave of her hand.
I look into her sincere eyes and feel the guilt build up inside of me. I shake my head slightly and look down, “I-I’m sorry for snapping at you back at the elementary school. I just…I hate feeling helpless.”
She smiles at me and shakes her head slightly, “Don’t worry about it, sweetie. I understand.” She nods her head towards the lake, “Let me show you around the yard.”
I carefully lay the clothes on the doormat and follow Mrs. Finnegan off the bridge and down into the grassy backyard. The grass is still moist from the rain the previous night and the residue seeps through my socks. Mrs. Finnegan leads the way, “This lake was here before the house was built. David and I were just teenagers when we stumbled upon it.” She looks over her shoulder and I quicken my pace to catch up with her. She stops a few feet from the murky water and turns to me, “He vowed to me that night he would become a millionaire one day and build me a house in this very spot.”
I feel my throat tight up. I suddenly feel like crying. I choke out, “He did it.”
Nodding her head slightly, she smiles at me with no teeth and agrees, “He did it.”
I clench my jaw as I look straight forward at the tiny lake. The sun glistens across the water surface, causing it to look like it’s adorned with hundreds of little diamonds. Small geese families surround the vicinity of the lake, flapping in the water occasionally and subsequently grooming themselves. With the perfectly groomed trees surrounding the boundaries, the view is breathtaking.
I see Mrs. Finnegan stare at me from my peripheral vision. I turn to her and she examines my face closely. I gulp once before she says quietly, “I assume you’ve filed a missing persons report.”
I stare straight ahead and blink hard, “Yes.”
I shut my eyes. I’ve done everything in my power to avoid this conversation for the past several months. I inhale deeply and respond, "Nothing. They can’t find them. Their phone numbers are disconnected and they cancelled all their credit cards.” My eyes fill with tears as the words spill out of my mouth. I clench my jaw, attempting to resist the growing desires of weakness.
I feel the warm liquid linger on my eyelashes. I open my eyes and they immediately fall, racing to reach the bottom of my face. I wipe them away hastily and avoid eye contact with Mrs. Finnegan. She wraps her arms around my shoulders and hugs me closely.
I keep my hands strictly to my sides. This is exactly what I wanted to avoid. Pity.
I grind my teeth together in my mouth and shut my eyes. Stop crying.
After a moment, I open my eyes and feel nothing but numbness. The tears have stopped, but my eyes sting. Mrs. Finnegan slowly pulls away from me, but keeps her hands on either side of my shoulders. She looks into my eyes and says quietly through sniffles, “You are a very strong girl, Kathryn.”
I stare back at her wordlessly, my lips sealed shut.
She slowly lets go of my shoulders and lets her arms fall to her sides. She wipes away a few lingering tears and says, “I’m going to start on dinner. I’ll have Jack call you and Jamie when it’s finished.”
I nod and croak out, “Thank you.” I look at her once before turning around and walking up the hill. I reach the door to the guest house before turning around to see Jack and Jamie throwing the football around the yard. Jamie’s laughter fills the air and I smile to myself as I feel the tears begin to reemerge.
“KAT!” Jamie calls out cheerfully, swinging the door to the guest house open.
I rush down the stairs and look at him with my eyebrows raised, “What’s up?!”
He has sweat on his forehead and his legs are covered in mud. He looks at me with a sloppy grin and holds up a football, “Look what Jack gave me!”
I walk down the stairs and smile back at him. I say in a genuinely surprised tone, “Wow! He gave that to you?” Who would’ve thought assholes cared about kids?
“Yeah! He said I could have his old bike too! Can I please have it, Kat?!”
I rub his sweaty head and pull him into me, “Of course, J.”
Jamie pulls away from me and sticks his head out the door. He whispers loudly, “She said yes!”
My face drops as I hear a deep chuckle, “Alriiiiight!” Jack pokes his head around the corner before the rest of his body slowly appears at the door. I stand up straighter and look at him blankly.
“Hi, Kat.” Jack looks at me with a lopsided smile and stands behind Jamie, holding onto his shoulders.
“It’s Kathryn.” Didn’t I already tell him that?
“Jamie called you Kat.”
I look at him. “You can call me Kathryn.”
He rolls his eyes playfully. “Okay, Kathryn. Dinner will be ready soon.” He points behind his back to the larger section of his house.
I look at him and nod my head, “Okay. Thanks.”
“No problem.” Jack stares back at me silently. I bite my lip and furrow my eyebrows together uncomfortably. I look at Jamie and say, “Why don’t you get in the shower, J?”
Jamie groans, “Do I have to?”
I smile at him slightly and say, “Yes, you do. You’re filthy. Let’s get you cleaned up.” I walk over to Jack and Jamie and hold out my hand. Jamie takes it unwillingly and I glance up at Jack. His gaze remains on me as I lightly brush his arm, trying to get ahold of Jamie.
I mutter at Jack quietly, “Thanks for playing with him.”
He looks down at me and curves his lips into a half-smile, “It was fun.”
I smile at him slightly and turn around, walking up the stairs with Jamie. I look over my shoulder once to see Jack standing there idle, watching us. He catches my eye and instantly turns around, closing the door behind him as he walks out.
I guide Jamie into the sparkling clean bathroom. His eyes widen at the sight of a jacuzzi bathtub and he mouths, ‘Wow.’ I smile at him and say, “What d'ya say we get in our bathing suits and use that baby later tonight?” He smiles up at me and nods his head vigorously.
I place a clean towel around a rack and help Jamie strip off his sweaty shirt. I turn on the faucet to the glass shower and instantly feel the warm water radiate off the walls. Jamie looks up at me excitedly and squeals, “It’s hot.”
I pause. I look down at him and nod my head sadly, “Yeah, it is.”
It breaks my heart that my 10 year old brother is excited over a hot shower.
Holding onto Jamie’s hand, I feel his wet hair drip onto my fingers as I knock on the Gilinsky’s door. I hear footsteps rushing to answer it and see the doorknob turning. The door swings open inward and I see Mrs. Finnegan in a kitchen apron and her hair clipped back into a bun.
She smiles at us widely and waves her hand inside, “You’re right on time. Come in!”
We walk in and our eyes widen instantly. We take in the lavish kitchen; granite counter-tops, fluorescent lights that hang from the cieling, oak cupboards, and a steel fridge. I look at Mrs. Finnegan and say in awe, “You have a lovely kitchen.”
She smiles at me sweetly. “Thank you, honey. Take a seat!” She waves her hand towards the large wooden table in the center of the kitchen. I see an assortment of plates piled with savory foods; a giant seasoned chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy, green beans, and fresh baked rolls. The aroma is filled with copious mouth-watering smells and I nearly drool just from breathing.
I hesitantly take a seat in the corner of the table and Jamie plops down next to me. I lower myself as Jamie whispers in my ear, “This smells a lot better than Taco Bell.” I smirk down at him and agree, “It won’t make you feel sick in the morning either.”
Mrs. Finnegan takes her apron off and hangs it over a hook near the oven. Simultaneously, David and Jack stroll into the kitchen. David inhales deeply and exclaims, “Supper smells wonderful tonight, dear.” He kisses her on the cheek as she smiles at him.
Jack sits directly across from me and smiles slightly as I lift my head up. He looks from me to Jamie and gives him a goofy smile. David sits at the head of the table, while Mrs. Finnegan sits diagonal from me and next to Jack.
I look around me. I see a happy, well-rounded family and a table stacked with food. I look over at Jamie and see him eyeing the chicken as if it were prey. I feel like crying again.
“Well, everyone stop staring and dig in!” Mrs. Finnegan says cheerfully, picking up the knife to cut the chicken.
I look down at my empty plate as Jamie pounces the table for a chicken leg. The nostalgia hits hard. I gulp and shut my eyes tightly until I’m 90% sure I won’t burst out crying.
Jack looks up from his plate and asks across the table, “Are you okay, Kathryn?”
I snap open my eyes to see everyone, including Jamie, staring at me. I nod my head awkwardly, “Uh, yeah. Sorry.” Everyone continues to stare, unconvinced. I look at their worried faces and say barely audibly, “It’s just been so long since we’ve had a home cooked meal.”
There’s a moment of silence. I stare down at my empty plate with my hands in my lap. I’ve never felt more uncomfortable in my entire life. Jamie grabs my right hand from under the table and strokes my palm with his greasy fingers.
Mrs. Finnegan breaks the silence. “Well, this won’t be your last. Dig in, sweetheart.”
“Jamie! You’re making a mess!” I giggle as he shakes his wet hair like a dog, causing specks of water to fly haphazardly around the room.
Climbing out of the bathtub, I bundle a warm towel around my body before grabbing Jamie’s towel and wrapping it around his shoulders. He shivers slightly and looks up at me with a smile, “I like it here.”
I bite my lip and smile back at him, “C'mon, let’s change into some PJs.” I nudge him gently and we saunter out of the bathroom.
I stop in the middle of the hallway and look at Jamie, “J?"
He looks up at me, "Yeah?”
“You can have your own room tonight.”
He stares at me momentarily before looking at the two separate rooms before us. He shakes his head slightly and says, “But I–I wanna sleep with you.”
I smile at him with no teeth, “Then you’ll sleep with me.”
We walk into the larger of the two rooms and I hand him the smallest shirt I could find in the pile, although it still looks like a dress on him. He lays on the bed and lavishes in the seemingly infinite amount of space. He kicks and rolls around the soft bed continually, giggling to himself the entire time.
His laughter is music to my ears. I smile to myself as I look through the pile of remaining clothing. All of Mrs. Finnegan's sleepwear seem too decorated and uncomfortable. I grab a worn out looking t-shirt and throw it over my head. It just covers my butt and I decide to leave it. I see a pair of unworn underwear with the tag still on it. I bite my lip as I rip off the tag with my hands and slip it on under a towel.
I turn my head and lower my eyes at Jamie. He stares at me with an eyebrow raised as I pounce on the bed and roll over next to him. I smile at him widely before taking the pillow from behind me and smacking it across his head. He laughs wildly and grabs the other pillow, launching it at me from across the bed.
Laughing uncontrollably, we continue our pillow fight until Jamie slowly tires out. His eyes gradually close and he drifts off into sleep, still clutching onto the pillow. I gently take his pillow out of his hands and slide it under his head. I kiss him on the forehead before tucking him into the warm, white sheets.
For once in the past 6 months, Jamie finally looks peaceful. His forehead isn’t covered with perspiration, nor are his eyebrows furrowed as he slips into unconsciousness. I smile at the sight of my beautiful and peaceful baby brother.
My thoughts are interrupted as I hear two knocks on the door. I hop off the cozy bed unwillingly and climb down the stairs. I open the door to reveal Jack holding two boxes of board games and a multitude of DVDs.
I raise my eyebrows at him, “Hi.”
His lips curve into a half-smile as his eyes move slowly from my face to my exposed legs, “Hi. I like your shirt.”
I look down at myself, soon realizing I’m probably wearing one of his old shirts. I cross my arms across my chest awkwardly and reply, “Thanks.”
I hear a sudden cry, “KAT? KATHRYN?” I snap my head around and see Jamie sprinting down the hall. He looks at me with frightened eyes, “W-where were you?” He wraps his limp arms around me.
I hug him back tightly and rub his back. I look at him and say quietly, “Jack was at the door and I had to go answer it. Don’t worry J. I’m never gonna leave you.”
He sniffles once and says, “I had another dream.” His words are muffled as he digs his face in my stomach.
I blink hard. Jamie’s been having recurring nightmares ever since that night. I stroke his hair and say softly, “It was only a dream.”
There’s a moment of silence as Jamie lets his tears seek into my shirt, attempting to hide his face from Jack. I look at Jack in the corner of my eye and he stares back dumbfoundedly. He puts the items in his hand on the coffee table and says, “Hey, Jamie!” Jamie pulls back slightly and turns towards Jack. “You know what’ll make you feel better?”
Jamie asks croakily, “What?”
“Late night cartoons.” Jack pulls his face into a smirk and grabs the remote control, turning on the TV and rapidly flicking through the channels until finally landing on cartoon network.
Jamie looks at the flat screen and smiles widely. He wobbles to the couch and plops down, eyes glued to the TV.
I turn to Jack and mouth, 'Thank you.’ He smiles at me and nods his head.
I walk over to the couch and sit down next to Jamie. He lays his head on my lap and curls his legs onto the rest of the couch. I stroke his hair lightly as I hear Jack sitting down on the other side of me.
I turn to look at Jack, but his eyes are elsewhere. He stares mesmerized at the television. Turning away, I bite my lip and half-smile to myself.
A/N: I know this chapter kinda dragged on, but I can’t just jump into the meat of the story right away. I’m still on edge with continuing it, so PLEASE inbox me and let me know how you feel about it so far! Thank you. :)
I’m gonna start with how Dana talked to my mom because omg.
So after I had met them and the m&g line died down, I walked around to the back of the stage and basically got to stare at their butts and it was amazing. The boys were dancing like idiots and I screamed at Dana to start twerking and he turned around to see who told him to twerk and I waved. And he started twerking. My mom then went up to him and of course I walked up with her because I mean it was Dana. The second she got to him she said “Hello, you must be my son in law, Dana.” I then proceeded to throw my head into my hands bc embarrassment. He looked at me, laughing and said “I guess I am. Hi mom!” Which made me feel more embarrassed. She then told him, “You’re the one that’s 15. I didn’t know my daughter could be so in love with someone so young, almost being 18 and all. You seem like a nice boy.” And at this point I’m just like “MOM!” And Dana is laughing and Dalton is over hearing the story laughing too. I’m trying to get my mom to take me somewhere to eat, and she’s trying to talk to Dana. I turned to my older sister and tried to distract myself by playing with my nephew who was 8 months old at the time, who Will ultimately fanboyed over. Then I overhear my mom and Dana laughing at something and then they said bye. When we got to a restaurant I asked my mom what happened and she said “I told him that I love him and I’ll see him in 10 years when you marry him.” I then banged my head on the table.
Now, this is when the boys didn’t believe I was 18. This was during my m&g time with them. I went right up to Dana and said “I have a problem with you, because I love you, but I’ll be 18 in 3 months, and you have 3 years.” And he looked at me weird, because this boy towered over me, due to the fact that I’m 4'11. “You’re not tuning 18.” Cole said, overhearing the conversation. I then proceeded to pull out my ID and Cole said “1995, same year as Gabe. You are turning 18.” Then Dana added “Wow, you’re short.” and smiled that goddamn fucking smile that made me want to kiss him but then punch him in the face because like hello, I’m fully aware of how short I am.
Anyways, here’s the one about Cole and my boobs. Also during my m&g time. I hugged Will first, and e was just like “Wow okay you give amazing hugs.” And Cole looked over at me, and hugged me super tight to where I couldn’t breathe. He said “Wow Will, you’re right. and just kept squeezing me. Meanwhile these two are fucking smirking at each other the whole damn time Cole is squeezing me. Then when he let me go this fucking sly ass bitch brushed his damn hand against my damn boob. Then before I left he squeezed me again.
So that’s it and my goals for when I meet them in April are to touch 5/5 butts touch Dana’s hair get more kissy pics with Dana and touch the abs of the Will Jay okay hope you enjoyed my story time bye.
Rukia is featured in 21 panels not including what may be added as a bonus. She and Ichigo are together in only five with Renji sharing one. 74 will include Chapters 675-686.
675-679 feature Ichigo and Orihime battling Yhwach until both are all but slaughtered by the enemy. We see Orihime again in 681 and last, in 686.
There is really no Ichiruki content in this volume. “Death & Strawberry” was clearly recycled and affixed to the next generation, Kazui and Ichika.
Ichiruki are on the cover for reasons that do not reflect the contents of the volume. It’s argued that things have come full circle but that’s not what’s in the volume. Rukia is promoted to Captain of the Thirteenth Division and Ichigo is resigned to the Living World with his Shinigami days basically a memory and serving as the rear view mirror to his life as a husband and father. He doesn’t even show up at her promotion but it’s teased that he might in the next (last) chapter with the detection of mysterious, Yhwach-like reiatsu. I thought, “Ok. Ichigo defeated Yhwach, got all of his powers in the process so now he’s the Quincy God/Hollow/Shinigami. You know? Because he has every fucking power.” WRONG. If everything is full circle, why is he in a shihakusho and Rukia in human clothes (the dress she wears in 686)? That’s contradictory.
I’m stewing right now and just reflecting but honestly, this volume is the worst of Bleach. Ichigo pulls out a new form that we didn’t even know he was working on because really, none of the training with Squad Zero was seen. Panels were wasted on him and Renji pigging out. Finally, Ichigo subdues his Inner Hollow only for that control to prove useless. NuTensa Zangetsu breaks once, then shatters, then magically transforms back to OG Zangetsu which is the instrument used to finally kill Yhwach.
Uryu has a Quincy Schrift ‘A’ for “Antithesis” that does nothing. Ryuken and Isshin make their last appearance to drop off an arrowhead forged from a silver blood clot that was formed inside of Kanae’s heart after she was killed for her power by Yhwach. The arrowhead is able to stop Yhwach’s power for an instant. Apparently, the result of his greed can be used against him. We didn’t know it until we knew it. Uryu is able to halt Yhwach for Ichigo to deliver the final blow with his fuckin shikai. I mean, I guess Yhwach is just a normal “human” with no powers when he’s shot with the arrow so it makes sense for just Zangetsu to be enough to finish him. I GUESS.
Renji makes his “thanks for helping me get my bestie back” speech to Ichigo. The bestie becomes the wifey/baby mama because that makes sense, right? Ichika looks about six but she’s a Soul so why tf does she look so old when she could only have been born in the last 10 years? Souls age slowly and beautifully. Her uncle is more than a hundred years old and he’s aging backwards.
Ichigo marries Orihime and they have a kid. I can’t put my finger on how old he is. He’s crawling so is he like a year old? He talks like a seven year old though.
Idk. That’s not even everything but everything is essentially nothing, and we’ve all beat it over the head ad nauseum at this point.
Basically, 74 includes no Ichiruki except Rukia making a jab at Ichigo’s humble “career” and Ichigo criticizing her parenting skills although he has to ask Orihime if she’s even seen their kid. Despite this tedious talk, Ichiruki do share their last panel together which I love.
Anyway, I said all that to say that I get why folks are mad. I’m mad. However, the cover hits me dead in the center of my Ichiruki heart so I love it. I even contemplate purchasing the last volume because I’m all Ichiruki everything. I don’t know anymore when I take everything into consideration. It’s just such a bad rollercoaster, the BWA. It started strong as fuck and after Byakuya/Yamamoto, then went downhill, and around about 20 chapters before the end, everything was flipped inside out.
Orihime, who has been scared of her own shadow the entire series except when she protected Tatsuki spent a lot of time yammering about wanting to fight so she wouldn’t be lonely. I’m to believe this girl finally faces off, alongside Ichigo, with a foe so overpowered, he makes Aizen look like a Girl Scout? I’m supposed to believe that? I mean, she didn’t do much against him (shocker) but still. I don’t believe that. All the while, Rukia sat around and basically watched shit happen to everybody after her rushed one shot against As Nodt? I GUESS.
Idk. There is nothing good about this volume except Ichiruki on the cover and their last panel. That’s $10 + tax for two pages.
Maybe it’s not the
button, but the way the button hasn’t been pushed all the way through
the hole. She’s not immune to the bare chest, or the fine sheen of
sweat on his skin. She’s not immune to the hair that she knows
for a fact grows softer as it trails down his belly - but her eyes
lock on a glint of brass that peeks out from blue denim like a
half-finished thought and she forgets for a second why she’s standing
in his doorway again.
“Put a shirt
on, Danny!” Her hands fly out in front of her to shove him the
way she has a thousand times before, but nanoseconds before her hands
hit his chest she tries to pull them back, resulting in an awkward collision. As her fingertips brush
against Danny’s bare stomach she can feel his abs tense in surprise. And
god help her, she accidentally touches the button.
“Whoa! What are
Mindy curls her
fingers away from the fly of his jeans and nervously smooths her
skirt. "I’m not doing anything. Why are you dressed like that?”
He looks away and licks
his lips the way he does when he’s nervous. Then she remembers the
phone call, and why she’s here, and what he’d said, and what was kind
of funny down on the sidewalk feels a little less funny now. He folds
his arms. “What do you want, Min?”
And there it is. A
single syllable dissolves whatever tension lingers in the wake of a
little inappropriate touching. Min.
Why’d she do this?
They’d almost nailed this friend thing, and she’s supposed to be
somewhere to meet someone who never told her she was his best friend
then broke her fucking heart anyway. Smart girls bet on themselves.
“Fix my hair.”
Danny shakes his head
and stalks over to the kitchen island; she follows and settles
herself on a stool. His fingers land lightly on her shoulder as he
clips the gum out of her hair. Mindy thinks as his hands draw away that she should have insisted he put on
clothes before they tried this, but the candy in her hair kind of
sucks the potential sexiness out of the moment anyway. That and his
attitude. “Stop chewing gum, you’re not 10 years old. Or carry
scissors around with you.”
She spins to reply,
but Danny’s right there in her orbit. This time when they collide
he’s the one with his hands in the wrong place and his left hand is
almost cupping her right breast. She sucks in her breath. “What
“Okay, that was
obviously an accident.”
His breath smells
minty, but this close she can also catch the lingering scent of
tobacco. “I don’t think it was.”
“How do you
figure that?” His voice is low and something in her own throat
hurts now, like she needs to cry or maybe she needs to sigh, but it’s
not something that she should be feeling.
Mindy leans in to his
neck and lets her reply flow across his skin.. “Because you’re still
holding my tit, dummy.”
Danny jumps back and wipes his hand on his jeans.
“You’re one to talk. You put your hand on my dick the second you
walked in the door. Is that your thing now. You just going straight
for the junk now, cuttin’ out the chit-chat?”
She narrows her
eyes. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
His eyes travel up
her body slowly, like he’s seeing her for the first time tonight, and
the hours she spent picking this outfit suddenly feel like a waste
because he’s not seeing it. Somewhere in the back of her head her
brain is shouting that she didn’t pick this outfit for him, that she
has somewhere to be. But right here in the half-lit kitchen she can’t
hear it over her pounding heart. She’s pretty sure all he’s seeing is
the way she looked in the steam room, and the office, and maybe
sometimes when they let things get a little heated a million years
ago. Like he had any right to that memory now.
Mindy’s head clears a
little. What would Nicki do? She’d slay men too weak to love her is
what she’d do. Screw this. “Danny, I’ve got to go.”
He nods and backs away so she can stand and collect her things. She smooths her skirt
again, self-consciously. “Thank you.”
His Adam’s apple
bobs like he wants to say something, and honestly she wants to say
something too, but what else is there to say? She didn’t make this
mess. Mindy tucks her bag under her arm and reaches for her jacket when
he’s there again, in her space, breathing her air. “Choose me.”
Danny doesn’t touch
her. She can feel him vibrating with the effort not repeat mistakes
that had set them back too far. She gets to choose this time.
That thing they say
about a bird in the hand is probably true and it’s hard to think
about what might happen on top of the Empire State Building with a
stranger when whatever is happening right here has dark eyes and a
lot of muscle on display and a history that neither of them can ever
really walk away from. “Why, Danny? A nice guy wants to get to know me,
and he actually tells me things he thinks instead of waiting for me
to figure it out, or springing it on me when he gets too scared. Why would I choose you over him? Why would I choose you over anyone?”
“Because you love
me like I love you.”
“I mean it, Min. I
messed up that night. And I’m probably messing up right now, but the
only thing I think I can get right, the only thing I wanna get right
is me and you. I love you. I wanna be with you.”
His eyes hold hers
and it’s all she can do to breathe. They flick to her lips, and
suddenly memories come back, of a night he let her go. He didn’t say
it then, and she carried the weight of that with her in Haiti. It was exhausting. Is
this just how they are? Do you gamble your life on years of almost
and one declaration of love?
For the second time
she lets herself get caught up in details. He’s not wearing shoes, but he is
wearing dress socks. He’s perfectly cleanshaven and for some reason
it just reminds her of how he looks in the morning before he shaves
and the stubble is silver below his lip and he’s too rough to kiss.
His soup bowl is unwashed in the sink (really, Danny? Soup for
dinner?) like he was in a hurry. None of the pieces really add up,
but do they have to add up?
She could have
stopped anywhere to get a pair of scissors, or used the nail clippers
in her bag, and she turned up here. He tried to send her away with
what was obviously a lie, but she pushed her away into
his apartment anyway.
And absolutely nothing about tonight had been platonic, or
easy or honest. Except his words. He loves her. She knows it for
truth, because it’s her truth too. She loves him. And smart girls bet on themselves.
This time Mindy’s hands
move with purpose. They glide easily up Danny’s arms as he pulls her to
him. They trace along his hairline as she holds his lips to hers.
They skate down the planes of his back to rest at the waistband of
“I love you too,” she whispers, brass warm and smooth under her fingertips.
One afternoon in Antakya, I met three young Syrians. They seemed a bit shifty, but not, as far as I could tell, more militantly Islamic than anyone else. “Our job is to bring stuff from here to the Free Syrian Army,” they told me. They offered to take me with them. Thinking I’d be back in a few days, I told no one, not even my Tunisian roommate, where I was going.
We slipped through a barbed-wire fence in the middle of an olive grove. I looked back toward Turkey. So far, so good. My Syrian friends led me to an abandoned house that I could use as a kind of field office. The next morning, I helped the young men straighten up the place, cleaning the floors and arranging pillows in an orderly row on a rubber mattress. They sat me down in front of a video camera and asked me to interview one of them, Abu Osama. When we were done, the cameraman smiled, walked across the room and kicked me in the face. His friends held me down. Abu Osama stomped on my chest, then called out for handcuffs. Someone else bound my feet. The cameraman aimed a pistol at my head.
“We’re from Al Tanzeem Al Qaeda,” Abu Osama said, grinning. “You didn’t know?” He told me I would be killed within the week if my family didn’t provide the cash equivalent of a quarter kilogram of gold — which the kidnappers thought was about $400,000 but was actually closer to $10,000 — the sum to which he was entitled, he said, by the laws of Islam.
Despite the video and the ransom demands, these kidnappers were amateurs. That night, I slipped out of the handcuffs that attached me to one of the sleeping men. In the soft sunlight of the Syrian dawn, I sprinted past walls covered in graffiti, through a cemetery and over a median strip, then stopped a passing minibus. “Take me to the Free Syrian Army right away,” I said. “This is an emergency.”
When I arrived at the F.S.A. headquarters, I appealed to the officers in the most desperate terms. They argued a bit among themselves, then took me to an Islamic court, where a judge questioned me and remanded me to a cell that had been converted from a Turkish toilet. There were prisoners in the cells on either side of me. I poked my head through a food hatch. A 10-year-old boy did the same. “What did you do?” I said. He withdrew, and a middle-aged man, his father, I presumed, poked his head out. “What did you do?” I repeated.
A helpless grin appeared on his face. “We’re Shia,” he said.
“I see,” I said.
Ten minutes later, the F.S.A. officers returned, accompanied by my kidnappers, and I was trundled into a car and taken to an F.S.A. safe house. There I was placed in a hole in the ground. Was I six feet below the surface? Only three? I didn’t know. Officers threw dirt on me, laughing and shouting insults. Someone jumped down and landed on my chest. Someone else beat me with the butt of his Kalashnikov. One officer insisted that I reply to his questions by yelling out, “I am filth, sir!”
A few days later, the F.S.A. transferred me to a group of Islamists, and I had my first lesson in how to distinguish Islamist fighters from the Free Syrian Army: The fundamentalists think of themselves as the vanguard of an emergent Islamic state. They torture you more slowly, with purpose-specific instruments. You never address them as “sir,” because this reminds everyone of the state’s secular military. When the Islamists torture you, they prefer to be addressed by a title that implies religious learning. For the younger fighters, “ya sheikhi!” (“o, my sheikh!”); for the older ones, “emir.”
The F.S.A., it turned out, had given me to the Nusra Front, or Jebhat al Nusra, which was using the Children’s Hospital in Aleppo as a headquarters and a prison.