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Don't judge me.
Short Bleachfic for the holidays! I...basically have no excuse for this other than that I was really bored.
T’was two nights before Christmas and his bassist did shout:
“KUROSAKI!”
“…I heard ya,” said Ichigo, the lout.
“Loo-oook,” said his band mate, with an unseen glare. “Webpages devoted to that ass or not, what is it still doing there..”
Said Ichigo: “I heard ya.” With a squint and a scowl.
The phone exploded. “I’M REALLY WONDERING--”
“Hold on. I’ll teleport. Actually, I’m there right now!”
“Right now’s looking awfully late,” said his bassist with a whine.
“…little delayed.”
“Santa coming to town? Quarter to?”
“…maybe nine.”
From the other end came a wheeze, like a foot to the gut. But Ichigo, tired and irritated, clicked his cellphone shut. Outside the rain hit the window with a slap. “Ho, ho, ho,” said Ichigo flatly, eyes on the girl in his lap.
Inoue Orihime had been busy that night, on her way home she’d been witness, she said, to a terrible fight. She’d been on her way home from work, and what did she spy? Some of Santa’s own elves, giving Rudolph a black eye. This she did so recount completely sincere, with a needle in hand. Oh, that poor deer! She gestured dramatically, needle in hand. How she’d swooped in to help in a battle quite grand! The elves had turned out to be terrible frauds. Embittered lawn gnomes, with a grudge against the Gods! She’d given them a good whupping and—oh, this okay?
“Yeah,” said Ichigo, leaning down. “S’been an interesting day.”
“Mm!" She agreed, biting off the last bit of thread.
And thus Inoue Orihime bestowed her gift, a Rightful elf-hat, upon his head.
For Miss Spankypants. Because two days straight working on big gay mercenaries should earn you some kind of fine crack.
T’was two nights before Christmas and his bassist did shout:
“KUROSAKI!”
“…I heard ya,” said Ichigo, the lout.
“Loo-oook,” said his band mate, with an unseen glare. “Webpages devoted to that ass or not, what is it still doing there..”
Said Ichigo: “I heard ya.” With a squint and a scowl.
The phone exploded. “I’M REALLY WONDERING--”
“Hold on. I’ll teleport. Actually, I’m there right now!”
“Right now’s looking awfully late,” said his bassist with a whine.
“…little delayed.”
“Santa coming to town? Quarter to?”
“…maybe nine.”
From the other end came a wheeze, like a foot to the gut. But Ichigo, tired and irritated, clicked his cellphone shut. Outside the rain hit the window with a slap. “Ho, ho, ho,” said Ichigo flatly, eyes on the girl in his lap.
Inoue Orihime had been busy that night, on her way home she’d been witness, she said, to a terrible fight. She’d been on her way home from work, and what did she spy? Some of Santa’s own elves, giving Rudolph a black eye. This she did so recount completely sincere, with a needle in hand. Oh, that poor deer! She gestured dramatically, needle in hand. How she’d swooped in to help in a battle quite grand! The elves had turned out to be terrible frauds. Embittered lawn gnomes, with a grudge against the Gods! She’d given them a good whupping and—oh, this okay?
“Yeah,” said Ichigo, leaning down. “S’been an interesting day.”
“Mm!" She agreed, biting off the last bit of thread.
And thus Inoue Orihime bestowed her gift, a Rightful elf-hat, upon his head.
For Miss Spankypants. Because two days straight working on big gay mercenaries should earn you some kind of fine crack.