@lyerlaboys1 replied to your photoset “femme fatale by Child-of-the-Ashes - click for full view”
That is a sexy beast right there Ashes-chan
I can’t even tell you how tempted I was to change him back into a guy. This was actually really hard for me XD I’m glad you like it! >u<
I’m so late I’m sorry kdjgkfg
Well, I find it interesting how Ichigo and Orihime’s relationship has been commented on by other characters more than any other relationship in the series. Be it allies, foes, friends, there is character from EACH side that will give a different insight, his own, and I think these points of view tend to converge and show us that most characters DO see something strong between them or at least that they deeply care for each others/are connected somehow.
The thing that also caught my attention is how nobody seems to find anything bad about it, on the contrary, many point out how they bring out the best in each other, like Rangiku explained it in her speech to Orihime.
And I like how, if envy/jealousy could be considered a bad emotion, Rangiku knows that Orihimeisn’t feeling like that out of selfishness so she makes sure to make her realise how important she is, in her own way, unique, confirming what I said on day 1 : their relationship is one of a kind in the series. Moreover, Rangiku doesnt know Ichigo as much as, say Renji or Rukia, yet she can easily see how his bond with her is concrete, and that says a lot imo about them. Hell, even Ulquiorra who doesnt understand the concept of human emotions commented on Ichigo getting stronger, maybe for Orihime’s sake,
and, it’s my personal opinion but I think you can link that to what he says in his last moments, after seeing how Ichigo rose up from the dead to help Orihime, he finds them interesting and then understand the meaning of the heart
I’m not even talking about Tatsuki who (apart from telling Orihime to take him down pff) basically thought Ichigo would be the first person to know where she went when she disappeared for HM. She seems to have entrusted Orihime to him, and for that she must have had a very great faith in Ichigo
Apart from that I feel like most characters are able to see that Orihime is in love with Ichigo and Ichigo is protective over Orihime. I mean we got, for example, Chad hiding that Orihime was attacked as to not worry Ichigo, Renji smiling at him, looking like he’s doing him a favour while asking Yamamoto to lead a HM squad :
Ishida commenting 2 times on Orihime’s behavior in regards to her love for Ichigo, Nell telling Orihime about Ichigo fighting for her, and so on.
Not only that but enemies use one to get to the other, showing that it is easy to see the bond they share. Nnoitra tortured Ichigo in front of Orihime, and this too :
There’s also Aizen commenting on Ichigo having no real reason to fight
because his friends are safe, but he singles out Orihime. There’s also Grimmjow that openly taunted Ichigo about Orihime, and I feel he’s the one who does it the most, and is conscious more than any other villain that you better not mess with Ichigo about Orihime :
and i feel the look on Grimmjow’s face either means he noticed about Ichigo being protective over Orihime or that he knows he better not mess with him. And it doesnt mean much really but earlier on in the story (SS arc), there’s also Kenpachi taking Orihime with him because he thinks it will eventually lead him to Ichigo
Since I’m getting carried away, I’ll conclude that I think it is very easy to see that they care deeply for one another from an outsider’s perspective. I just wonder if Ichigo and Orihime notice how close they can appear themselves.
Summary: No man is an island.
Warning: Language, violence, slight non-consent, sort of, maybe. Also possibly spoiler-ish depending on where you are in the manga.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
The rolling slats of the warehouse door screech to a halt at waist level, and Ichigo freezes.
Orange bangs fall in pieces over his eyes as he glances back, sifting through the shadows. It’s a thoughtless reflex. A habit. No one comes to the industrial district at night anymore. There are too many rumors of violent spirits. Too many deranged screams that echo from somewhere within its borders.
He wrenches the outer door closed, hooks the busted padlock through the usual hinge, and crosses the floor. There’s a knotted cord hanging before the stairs to the basement and he gives it a tug. Light spills out, cutting the darkness. A guide mark for whoever eventually came looking for him. He doesn’t need it to find his way down. Could literally navigate this warehouse with his eyes closed. He’d found that out by doing it.
Wooden steps complain under his feet as he takes them down into the earth. The temperature drops with every step until his breath puffs into small, white clouds.
He moves toward the single, cinderblock office in the back. Its thick, reinforced, steel door emerges from the shadows, yawning wide. It gapes open like a mouth. The room beyond a throat. But he pushes the thought away. It isn’t the room that will swallow him here, and he’s never been afraid of the dark.
Before he reaches it, the floor bends under his feet as if he’s stepped onto a moving escalator without realizing it. He rights himself. Ignores it. It’s not real. It’s not moving. It’s all in his head, so he clamps down on the mental slip and keeps walking.
He pauses outside, kicks dirt around until a piece of old wire surfaces. He lifts the security latch and pushes the wire through the door’s crack, balancing the bar with the ease of having done it more times that he can count. The latch was on the inside of the office when he started using the building, but he’d unearthed a tool chest from the refuse that littered shelves and closets. Switching it to the outside hadn’t been difficult.
When the wire holds the bar’s weight, he steps into the office, closing the door behind him. He pulls it through from the other side.
The bar falls into place with a dense clank, and he’s imprisoned inside.
But hearing it isn’t good enough. There’s no room to relax even a fraction. The monster possesses all his resourcefulness, but doesn’t fear any consequence. It’s a hell of a combination, and something else he’s learned from experience.
All it needs is an opening. The narrowest crack to slip through. The slightest mistake.
He refuses to give it even that.
His heel snaps into the steel door with all the weight he can put behind the strike. It shudders in its frame, but holds. He repeats it twice more to be certain.
Satisfied the bar will do what he intends, he drops his bag to the dusty concrete.
The chains wait where he left them over a month ago, in tangles and scatters across his grubby, makeshift cell. He winds length after length