#basically just obsessed

[zyprig]

[home-of-renn]

AU where Danny never tells Sam and Tucker about the portal accident but they eventually put together the pieces after Danny starts acting hella weird. Especially around his parents.

They eventually figure it out but can't seem to decide whether their friend is actually dead or if there's something else going on. They inadvertently become ghost experts while playing detective, while also simultaneously trying their best to help Danny from the shadows without him finding out that they found out.

Bonus points if they have to fend off Jazz with a stick cause she knows something's up and she knows that Sam and Tucker know but Sam and Tucker keep covering their tracks and doing their best to throw her off the scent.

Bonus, bonus points if Jazz knows that there's something very messed up going on and desperately wants to know what happened to her brother but Sam and Tucker think she's on her parent's side and are convinced that she'll just report back to them if she ever finds out.

Bonus, bonus, bonus points! if Jazz just has this deep, gut-wrenching feeling that she can't tell her parents about her suspicions and that there's something increasingly disturbing about both her parents and Danny's behaviour as well as how the three of them interact after the portal got turned on. She does her best to keep her parent's attention off of Danny, which kinda helps but also inadvertently gets in the way of Sam and Tucker's helping.

Bonus, bonus, bonus, bonus points!!!!! if Maddie and Jack have acquired some very mild ecto contamination from being in such close proximity with the portal on a daily basis and their continued exposure is making them slowly exhibit Obsession-like behaviours about their work and research, which consequentially results in their attitudes/behaviours becoming increasingly more disturbing and concerning from an outside perspective.

[kittykatninja321]

My less popular opinion (and what I believe to be implied by the art in Lost Days) is that rather than waking up in a fully grown body Jason didn’t actually complete his puberty until after his Lazarus pit dip while he was on his murder tour. Imagine you’re tied up in a basement in Berlin getting interrogated by a teenager and his voice is cracking the entire time and if you laugh he’s going to shoot you

[wasabi-gumdrop]

happy inaugural labru day to all who celebrate

[tsuutarr]

Falling in love with you was an accident. Something that shouldn’t have happened.

The day was just like any other, really. As usual, Lovell had been conducting his cupid duties with scary accuracy, hitting his targets one by one. At the rate he was going, he would have been able to clock out early, too. But then you just had to walk in front of his target, right after he had shot his love arrow.

Instinctively, he dove in front of his own arrow, blocking you from getting hit. 

Unfortunately, that meant he got hit by his own arrow. And you were the first person he saw.

So now here he is. Lovestruck with you. Literally. Accidentally.

He shouldn’t be in love with you.

But oh – oh. You’re so cute. You make his heart flutter, his stomach tying in knots. His world is dipped in pretty cotton candy pinks and blues when he sees you. 

It’s really not his fault that he begins to follow you around instead of focusing on his tasks. It’s really not his fault that your potential suitors get hit by love arrows and end up falling for someone else. It’s not his fault that you’re just so darn cute.

So, yeah, maybe he should get some help for his little… issue, but you’re just so, so, so wonderful!

He doesn’t wanna let go of the way he feels for you. He doesn’t wanna let go of being able to watch you. He doesn’t wanna let go of you. 

So, is it so wrong that he’s making a plan to make you his? To make sure you can see and perceive and love him? Is it so wrong that he wants to make you lovestruck for him like he is for you?

As he readies his arrow, he can hardly agree that this is immoral.

Oh, no. After all, you should take some responsibility for making him like you so much.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

YOU’RE AN ANGEL, I’M A DOG ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; an upcoming exam has been stressing you out, and satoru’s pleas for you to take care of yourself fall on deaf ears. thus, he sets his sights on your professor.

word count; 4.3k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, yan!gojo, as far as yanderes go he’s very mild i think (im sensitive u can trust me!!), mentions of blood, implied murder (not depicted!!), he threatens your professor w a knife lol, surprisingly fluffy??, gojo is soooo lovesick & smitten, he just wants his baby to live a happy life :( is that so wrong :((, also your parents love him <33 and he calls you honey <333 ideal man.

a/n; i blacked out & when i woke up this was in my drafts… mysterious. @kissxcore here u go alexis <33 one very smitten morally gray yan!gojo just for u!! i completely lost the plot halfway through but i had a lot of fun writing this!! :33 i don’t dabble in yan content at all so it was a fun lil challenge hehe, i hope it ended up . Somewhat .. decent…

satoru thinks you deserve everything good.

”haah…”

— the sigh spills into the air, like a dot of ink on paper, dripping with exhaustion; a palpable fatigue that has his heart clenching beneath his ribs.

just as he feared, you’re here. again. seated on the couch, in the living room, legs crossed and framed by flimsy strings of moonlight; illuminated only by the dim light of the laptop in front of you. carding through your hair, blinking sluggishly.

another sigh. deep, exasperated, from satoru this time. he keeps a single hand on his hip, brows furrowed in soft disappointment. 

”honey… what do you think you’re doing?”

you jolt, the sudden sound breaking you out of whatever trance you were previously in. when your gaze flits to his, craning your head to see him rest against the wall leading up to your bedroom, he thinks you look a little like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

it makes him smile. despite his disapproval.

”ah — satoru! it’s… um.” a moment passes. he can practically see the gears of your mind turning, searching for a good excuse. ”… not what it looks like?”

he clicks his tongue. ”nice try.”

then he’s walking towards you, in long strides, gliding across the room like a butterfly in search of nectar. from the sweetest flower there ever was.

even when said flower is still awake, past midnight, pulling an all-nighter despite his frequent advice not to. his very frequent, very thoughtful advice not to strain yourself until you just about pass out.

but you just won’t listen.

”’m disappointed in you, baby,” he huffs, just playful enough to ward off any genuine feelings of distress. he could never truly be disappointed in his baby. ”what did we say about studying this late, hm?”

a sheepish chuckle slips past your lips. satoru is standing in front of you, hands on his hips, raising a questioning eyebrow as you squirm. lighthearted, yes, but genuine. it makes you feel a little guilty.

”… sorry,” you breathe, closing the lid of your laptop. knowing he won’t let you stay up any longer. with the loss of light, your face becomes shrouded in darkness. ”just can’t sleep when i’m so stressed.”

at that, satoru makes a tiny noise — something worried, a little sad, from the base of his throat. a soft frown finds its way onto his lips, and he blinks the sleep away from his senses. plopping down beside you.

”i know. i’m not trying to lecture you,” he croons, reaching out to cradle the apple of your cheek. you melt into him like molten honey, easy and sweet. ”just worried. know you’re stressed.”

and he does. he does know — it’s all he’s been able to think about, these past few weeks. to his dismay, he’s even begun to grow used to this sight, used to finding you in the midst of working yourself to exhaustion. fighting the urge to sleep, slumped over your desk, or cooped up on the couch. staring into your laptop like it holds the secrets of the universe.

time and time again, he’s told you to take care of yourself. tried to coax you into relaxing, rubbing your sore shoulders and kissing the puffy skin beneath your eyes. but this exam is important — you’ve told him as much, more times than he can count. he doesn’t doubt that you’re right. 

of course you’d be stressed. he gets it.

still, though.

”but you know it’s not good, yeah? that it’ll just burn you out?” his thumb goes to smooth over the dark crescents beneath your eyes, gentle as a feather. ”we don’t want that, do we?”

you bite your lip. trapping it between your teeth. he knows you know. ”… yeah,” you admit, a flimsy little sigh on your tongue. ”it just feels easier to do this at night. don’t know why.”

”my little night owl.”

that makes you smile, a little, but it’s not enough to satisfy him. he curls an arm around your waist, and drags you into his lap; gentle, always gentle, like all that exists under your skin is made of porcelain. like the lines of your face form a string of words, a label of fragile: handle with care. he always does.

with his heartbeat by your ear, his warmth melting into yours, it’s easier to speak. a pressure on your chest that fades away. ”i’ll try not to do it again,” you murmur, biting back a soft yawn. nuzzling into his neck. ”promise. don’t wanna worry you…”

satoru softens. 

(always so good to him.)

”it’s fine, honey. i understand.” he smiles, smoothing down your spine, counting the bumps of vertebra that slide along his palm. ”don’t worry that pretty little head of yours over me, alright?”

in return for his comfort, you wriggle away, lifting your head to give him a smile. one of your many smiles, each one fervently cherished by him; the one you’re wearing now is tired, a soft curl of your lips, the kind that makes him want to lull you to sleep. just the sight alone makes the anxiety in his veins feel like a worthy investment.

he doesn’t tell you anything that could cause that joy to diminish. doesn’t tell you that he can’t sleep without you, that he can barely breathe knowing you’re this stressed all time. doesn’t tell you that he jolted awake with a sinking feeling of dread, a gaping pit in his stomach when he didn’t immediately feel the warmth of your skin against his. doesn’t tell you that he always, always assumes the worst.

satoru doesn’t tell you these things. it’s a safety measure, an act of love. a bundle of unvoiced syllables, woven into white lies, silky and sweet. tailor-made to put your aching mind at ease. 

satoru thinks you deserve everything good.

it’s a theory, of sorts, a train of thought. a hypothesis made manifest. after many years of pondering, he’s arrived at the following conclusion; you are all that’s good. therefore, it only follows that you deserve everything that’s good, all of it and more. satoru believes you deserve every single thing your little heart desires — and he’s determined to give it to you.

so he’s been worried.

it’s not that he doesn’t trust you. he knows you’ll ace the exam, knows you’ll do your very best, knows you’ll make him proud. you always do. you aren’t the problem, no, never.

he just doesn’t trust your professor. 

that unfair, stuck-up, incompetent professor who’d fail his students just for being a couple minutes late, who curates his exams to be as convoluted as humanly possible. you and your friends are starting to suspect he just likes berating people for a living. satoru knows it all, he’s heard it all, of course he has. satoru pays attention to everything, when it comes to you. he knows all about your professor, the man who’s been making your studies pure hell for the past semester.

it makes his blood boil. steady, ruminating, hot and heavy in his veins. a rivulet of lava.

(it was only a matter of time.)

satoru is a teacher too; he knows that type. one that has no business being a teacher, in the first place, one no student deserves to be subjected to. he’s met more of them in his career than he could even begin to count. the thought of one of his own students being at the mercy of someone so incompetent makes his skin itch.

and the thought of you, seated on the couch, crying and sniffling when he comes home because none of the exam questions made enough sense for you to even try —

it makes satoru want to claw his skin off.

it makes that tiny, tiny cavern in his heart extend, widen, like a maw, swallowing up his liver and lungs and sense of morality. an emptiness begging to be filled. 

there’s only one way to satiate it.

so he plants a wet kiss on your forehead, ruffles your hair, tucks you into bed and waits until you fall asleep. deep and heavy, a slumber you won’t wake up from anytime soon. he presses his lips to your forehead one more time — for good measure.

then he grabs his coat and slips outside.

the moon is visible through the window.

a thin crescent, nailed next to the dim stars, leaking a dream-like fluorescent shine; illuminating the office, so quiet he can hear those erratic breaths spill out, one by one. a heavy, heavy silence, thick enough to spread like butter over toast. 

(ah, that’s right — he forgot to buy the butter you asked for this morning. no wonder he feels so out of sorts. he’ll have to grab it on his way back.)

”who… w — what are — ?”

satoru stays silent. lips pursed, eyes keen, burning into the back of the man in front of him. close, almost chest to back, enough to have him scowling in displeasure. 

just being in his presence makes satoru feel a little sick. 

he keeps the blade pressed right beneath his adam’s apple, a silver glimmer in an office painted blue and gray. not enough to sink into his skin, but enough to have his heartbeat hammering, enough that satoru can practically feel those rapid flutters of life. brushing against his gloved hand.

he gets straight to the point. voice muffled by the fabric covering his mouth, low enough that it’s barely even audible. he’s careful, about this kind of thing. there’s a delicacy to the ill intent, something he’d be a little enamored with if it weren’t for the compass stuffed into his ribs — the compass that tells him this is wrong.

he just can’t bring himself to care.

”the upcoming exam.” his voice sends a shiver down the man’s spine. satoru can feel it. ”don’t fail a single student.”

silence. pure silence, suffocating them, tangling itself into the air. satoru can practically taste it — fear, familiar, that pang of panic. a ticking time-bomb. the knife stays pressed against warm skin, pushing, sinking, just a little, a drop of red against his pale throat. 

it’s enough to get your professor to make a little noise, one that vaguely resembles a whine. like that of a small animal, rolling over on its belly, eager to play dead. no word is spoken in reply, but he nods, just barely, a nervous tremble of his head.

satoru hums, approving. ”good.” he doesn’t loosen his grip. ”there’s a particular student i’m worried about. marked them down in the catalogue... i’m counting on you.”

another noise. a grunt of affirmation, a silent plea — satoru allows that fear to seep into his own bones, just a little, just to get a taste of it. cold on his tongue. he wonders if this is what helplessness feels like.

then he takes a step back. slow, tentative, dragging the knife with him. not before parting his lips once more. ”don’t turn around,” he warns. ”i’ll be back if there are any complications. this’ll be our little secret, hm?”

the man in front of him doesn’t say a thing. frozen in fear, paralyzed, not moving an inch. a fly trapped in his web. it’s a relief.

before he exits the room, satoru puts the final nail in the coffin. just in case. ”i happen to know what school your daughter goes to.” he waits for a flinch, and it comes almost instantly. like clockwork. “remember that.”

it’s an empty threat. your professor doesn’t know that, though. he doesn’t know that satoru knows his daughter, that he walks past her preschool almost every morning on his way to work. that she waves to him whenever he passes by, and that he makes it a point to always wave back. a little troublemaker; the rowdiest of utahime’s preschoolers. she has a bubbly laugh, and just lost one of her milk teeth. she was giddy when she showed him, a bout of giggles spilling from her lips as he cooed and ruffled her hair. 

he wouldn’t lay a finger on her. 

but your professor doesn’t know that, hasn’t got a single clue, and satoru delights in the fear that must be running through his veins. down his spine, crawling into every narrow of his skeleton, making a home for itself that he’ll never quite be able to root out.

a gulp. satoru hears it, in the quiet of nightfall, just before he shuts the door behind him. good.

the rest of the evening is a blur. satoru gets home, relieved to find you still asleep, and tucks you into his chest. makes a mental reminder to order your favorite take out tomorrow; a little reward for your hard work.

finally, he can sleep easy. knowing you’ll get what you deserve. 

three weeks later, satoru places his hand on the familiar doorknob in front of him, dragging his weight behind him. blinking sluggishly. 

there’s a sinking feeling in his chest, weighing him down — like an anchor tied to his liver. a compass, tucked between his fourth and fifth rib, one that’ll always stay lodged right there. he’s learned to grow used to it, a natural consequence, a sign that his humanity is still intact. 

that doesn’t make it any less bothersome, though.

(ridding the world of a pest shouldn’t make him feel dirty. especially when he felt nothing but contempt for the pest in question, for the way he whistled as you walked by, the words he spewed before satoru met his eye. vile. putrid. why should he feel guilty for wiping a stain off the pavement?

it does make him feel dirty, though. a sinking feeling in his chest.)

there’s nothing to be done about it. satoru swallows the unpleasant taste on his tongue, and drags the door open, closing it behind him with a softness he reserves for you alone.

and there you are.

on the couch, farther away, already looking his way — lips instantly curling up into what he knows will be a smile. this time, it’s laced with excitement. one of his personal favorites. his gaze devours the joy in your features, the glimpse he gets of your teeth, that familiar crinkle of your eyes. 

you’re smiling. at him. you smile and his world wakes up, it’s dyed in different shades of blue, it’s brimming with life and love and something too good not to kill for. you smile and everything is right, good, worth it. you smile and it's as if the blood has been washed off his hands.

suddenly, all is well again. satoru exhales a blissful little breath.

“‘m home, honey,” he grins, a light pink dusting his cheeks, hanging his coat up before turning to face you. arms wide open. “did you miss me?”

his heartbeat stutters when you practically engulf him, all giddy giggles and that perfect smile, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. “mhm,” is what you chirp, pressing kisses down his collarbone, and he has to bite down on his lip to stop the shivers trailing down his spine. he tastes iron, but laps it up with a coo. sickly-sweet.

“missed you too, precious,” he purrs. “sorry i was gone for so long — had to take care of something.” 

he cups the back of your skull with his palm, large and crafted just to hold you, and marvels at how much you trust him. how you’re melting into his chest, fitting into every crevice of his heart. he wants to keep you there forever. forever and ever, always within reach, always close enough to touch. 

but he also wants you to be happy. he wants to see you run away, wherever the wind takes you, if only so he’ll get to feel you jump into his arms again, when you’ve had your fill of the world. when you come home to him, where you both belong.

satoru would never cage you. never, never, never. he wants you to enjoy your life — confining you wouldn’t do any good, would only stifle that pretty smile he loves so dearly. he wants your world to be large, brimming with life, blooming with fervor, wants the air to be clear enough for your beautiful lungs. he couldn’t build a world for you, here, in this apartment. no matter how big or luxurious. 

so his only option is to bend the world into a kinder shape — twist and mold until it forms a path good enough for you to follow.

(it’s worth it, he knows, he’ll always know. it’s worth it to see that smile.)

“is that a new coat?” you ask, naive and innocent, and it breaks him out of his thoughts, attention wired to the lilt of your voice.

“yeah.” it’s stylish, expensive, a nice shade of black. he had to throw the last one away. “looks nice, right? i’ll get you the same one, pretty.”

“you don’t have to, toru!” you hurriedly exclaim, knowing he’ll jump at the opportunity to spoil you. “i like the one i have now!”

satoru pouts. a soft huff, right by your ear. “you don’t wanna wear matching coats?” he feigns sadness, scratching softly at your scalp, drinking up the little purrs that bubble up in your throat. 

and you giggle. you giggle and all he can think is worth it, worth it, worth it. a stained coat or two means nothing. the blood on his hands is just insurance. 

“well, when you put it like that…” you shift a little, curling your arms around his neck, breathing him in. he wonders if you can smell the cleaning detergent. “i guess i wouldn’t mind a new coat.”

and he grins. “right? want me to buy you new shoes while i’m at it? some jewelry?” he peppers kisses down your neck, amusement laced in his voice. “the whole store?”

again, those giggles. again and again. he laps them up like fine wine. “okay, that’s too much.”

“but you deserve it!” he whines, sickeningly sweet. sick to his stomach with love. “been working so hard, my angel.”

and, suddenly — you light up. his little firefly. brightening, inhaling a giddy breath. pulling away, a little, and he does his best to bite back the frown on his face. you’re practically beaming, sunshine personified, eyes glittering with giddy joy.

“right! i almost forgot!” 

then you’re skipping away, happily, to retrieve your phone. and he knows what you’re going to show him, but still feigns surprise when he sees the score on your exam, that perfect 100 on the screen. still makes an expression of shock that he knows will get you to laugh, still picks you up and spins you around and tells you how proud he is.

he almost, almost feels bad, seeing you smile so wide; at what you assume to be the fruits of your own labour. almost feels ashamed, knowing that perfect 100 wouldn’t exist without the knife at your professor’s throat.

but, then again, this is how it should be. those numbers are the fruits of your own labour, because satoru is a part of you. and you deserve it, deserve it more than anyone — he knows you would have gotten it, even without his help, if your professor was competent enough to see your brilliance. 

satoru smiles. he is proud of you. and this is exactly how it should be. he’s just bending the world into its rightful shape, cutting strings from a wrongly woven web, righting the wrongs of the people around you.

you, you, you. the only thing that exists.

all of him is for you.

”i knew you could do it. never doubted you for a second, baby,” he smiles, so wide his cheeks hurt, and you return it with a kiss to his jaw. 

”thank you. i’m just so relieved,” you exhale a breath, heavy, and it’s like he can practically see the stress melting from your shoulders and eyes. worth it, worth it, worth it. ”gosh. i’m gonna sleep like the dead tonight.”

”as you should,” satoru chirps, pinching your side. softly, brimming with fondness. ”but before that, we’re gonna celebrate. all day. and tomorrow too!”

another smile coaxed from your lips; this time, it’s a little bit shy. bashful, at the praise, his endless excitement. so precious he wants to kiss you breathless. give you all the air in his lungs.

so precious that he forgets about everything else. 

this is what you always do to him; wrap him up in a blanket of your love, cloud his veins with a nectar so sweet he takes the leap into your arms without a second thought. a foolish, lovesick butterfly, sticking to a single rose; dripping with honey, overflowing. the butterfly is too drunk on love to care. 

you’re his flower, his joy, the most useful form of anesthesia. with you in his veins, on his mind, your lips on his jaw — satoru can pretend that his hands are clean. that they always have been.

it all slips from his mind. your professor, the creep who catcalled you yesterday, that one classmate you’ve been complaining about recently. he forgets that they even exists, and satoru thinks that must be what love is: something that narrows your world down until you can make a home out of it. 

(something worth holding onto, no matter the cost.)

as always, it’s your voice that snaps him out of the trance he’s in. turning around at the sound of your call, the orpheus to your eurydice, too in love to save you from himself. you’re both getting ready to head out, dressing up for a well-deserved date. 

satoru feels himself smile. he does the dirty work, and you get to reap the rewards. heaven on earth.

“oh, by the way! would you want to have dinner with my parents tomorrow?” you meet his absent gaze with a tilt of your head. “they’ve been asking about you again. it’s such a headache, seriously.”

satoru giggles, barely containing how delighted he is. raising a playful brow. “oh? grumpy that you aren’t the favorite child anymore, hm?”

“okay, first of all —“ you stifle a giggle, pulling a drawer open, rummaging through it. freshly washed clothes. he washes most of your things. “you aren’t their child. and second of all —“

“— yet.”

a pause. 

satoru watches your gaze flick over to him, then back to the drawer, collecting yourself. a cute flush to your cheeks. “… whatever.” you clear your throat. “second of all — i don’t like how much they like you. what kinda spell did you put them under? it’s always satoru this, satoru that!”

a huff fills the air, and you mutter something that sounds a little like mocking, an obnoxiously imitated where’s satoru? that makes him chuckle into his fist. 

he shrugs. “i’m just a natural charmer, y’know? and, for the record; i would love to have dinner with them.” he sends you a wink, playful, and you roll your eyes. “are you joining us?”

a bout of laughter pushes past your lips, and satoru thinks he could die happy — just soaking up the joy that spills from out your throat. he wishes he could live in it, paint your house in it, wear it. he wants your joy to be all he ever feels. he feels sick at the idea of ever being out of earshot for it.

“yes, i’m joining you.” your scoff is dripping with humour. ”i’d hate to be the fourth wheel, but it is what it is.”

satoru stifles a grin. ”lucky me. three beauties all to myself,” he drawls, a seductive lilt to his voice, just to hear that little noise you always make with the back of your throat. vaguely disgusted.

”you’re so gross.”

a coo. like the buzzing of a bee. ”don’t be jealous, honey. know you’re my favorite, don’t you?” satoru smiles — more sincere than you’ll ever know. ”could never love anyone else.”

”so my parents are in second place?” you quirk a brow, amusement lacing your words, and he clicks his tongue. 

”well, they made you. i’d have to be a fool not to worship artists of such caliber.” 

”charmer.”

”yours.” the word is a knife at his throat, a stain on his coat, a love so heavy it’ll burn him alive. ”only yours.”

and again, you smile. all he can think is that you deserve everything, everything he could ever give you. it’s all he can think as you go about your day, as he leads you outside, as he watches that flicker of joy dance inside your iris. as he watches you walk wherever your heart takes you.

the thought remains when you return home, when you wrap yourselves up in blankets and he throws a leg over your waist and you curl an arm around his ribcage. it’s all he can think. 

satoru was born to be of service — to someone, to the world, to something or another. he was born to carry a weight on his back, so why not bear the weight of your burdens?

all he wants is to protect you. all he’ll ever need is that smile on your face. he was always bound to be just this: a dog at your heels, a halo around your head, the watchful eye keeping you safe from everything rotten in this world. he’s the butterfly, the spider, the web itself. and he’ll never let you be tangled up in it.

he was born to be of service to you. so service you he will, until it all comes back to bite him.

“satoruuu — stop stealing the blanket!”

he prays it never will.

[stars-obsession-pit]

Danny didn’t think about his early years prior to his adoption by the Fentons. Sure, he could still remember them, but he wanted that chapter of his life to remain firmly behind him. The part of him that had been Danyal was dead and buried.

But then his parents’ portal opened on top of him, and that history became all too important again.

His mind may have long since healed from the madness of the Pit Rage, but the taint of the Lazarus Waters from his resurrections still clung to his soul.

Guided, the addition of pure ectoplasm would have washed away those wounds. But there was no guiding intelligence behind what was happening. No grander plot. Just the energies of the portal taking whatever path was needed to complete their circuit.

And thus, as the ectoplasm rewrote Danny’s DNA into a half-ghost form, it also empowered the remnants of the Lazarus Pit’s effects.

Emotions from those whom the League had killed had long seeped their way into the ectoplasm of the Lazarus Pits, but they had been faint. Far weaker than full ghosts, barely even echoes. Enough to cause the Pit Rage, but no more.

But with the influx of pure ectoplasm, those echoes grew.

And so when Danny emerged from the portal, it was with a choir of countless angry voices screaming into his brain to avenge them, to raze the League to the ground until nothing remained.

[tricoufamily]

just some ivy league kids trying to figure out necromancy

[decarbry]

heroes always stop

[cheshiresense]

In the Ichigo & Starrk time travel 'verse I'm just picturing Ichigo registering for the academy like "I'm Ichigo. From the rukongai. No last name" and then kaien popping up like "he's a Shiba!!!" And the people there looking at each other and whispering like "ohhhh he wants to be independent and not rely on his family name!! How sweet!!!" and then Ichigo just sighing. XD

LMAO with his luck, this is exactly what happened.

Meanwhile Starrk's over there in the corner filling out his application forms and thanking every god he wants to beat up I find it rly funny to imagine he has this passive-aggressive grudge against Mimihagi for a variety of reasons that he in no way, shape, or form resembles any of the five big clans. But it would also be really funny to me if people at the admin desk looked at him, and then looked twice, and then looked thrice, and then be like "You sure you're not a Kyouraku?", because let's face it, he really does look a bit like Shunsui. Like it's not immediately noticeable the way Ichigo is with the Shibas, but if Starrk and Shunsui showed up and claimed they were blood-related, probably no one would doubt it.

And at any other time, people might not think of the possibility, but there just so happens to be a Kyouraku relative - even if she's just a bastard - attending the Academy at the moment, and all the teachers and staff are always made aware of any clan children in their halls. The Kyouraku Family isn't one of the Big Five, they're a Lower Noble House and also not a Shinigami-oriented clan, more politicians and scholars and even artisans than soldiers, but they're old and prestigious and the highest-ranked out of all the Lower Noble Houses, so the Academy paid attention when one of them decided to become a Shinigami for the first time in centuries. She ends up being a disappointment with none of her cousin's talent or charisma or wit, and the Eighth Division captain hasn't pushed hard enough for them to really show her any favouritism, but they've still kept an eye on her to make sure the bullying doesn't get too bad and she doesn't fall too far behind, lest they bring her family's wrath down on them, because it doesn't seem like most of her clan cares about her but who even knows with nobles and the things that set off their sense of pride.

But that means Starrk's looks immediately ring a few bells when he shows up. Of course, he denies it; unlike Ichigo, he really doesn't have any relation to the Kyourakus, although even back in their own timeline, a few people had made that mistake when they didn't know he was a Hollow, had thought he was some Kyouraku relative Shunsui had dug up to help out, because not everyone who goes through the Academy becomes a Shinigami, sometimes they're clan members who go home afterwards to guard the family and continue their own training there, plus with Starrk's strength and skill set - 1) powerful, and 2) sharing quite a few similarities to Shunsui's so it's not even just their looks - it had actually been more far-fetched to a lot of people for him to have just been some random nobody than to be a member of this powerful clan.

But no, no blood relation, just a quirk of fate. Still, the Academy notes his name down and makes sure to keep more tabs on his progress than they would an average Rukongai student. And alright, the teachers can be overly biased or overly indifferent depending on the student but they're not actually stupid, and yeah, for a while, it's Shiba Ichigo who takes up all their attention because Ichigo blows all the other students out of the water and skyrockets straight up to a category of genius nobody's ever seen before, even more impressive than his lieutenant cousin and slated to graduate in a year. It helps (Ichigo: "No it fucking doesn't.") that Kaien is constantly buzzing around making sure Ichigo is treated like a prince befitting of a Great Noble House so no one dares make his life difficult. Well, Koyonagi would probably dare, but fortunately (Ichigo: "No it fucking isn't."), he likes Ichigo enough to not hamper him in any way, even if he does come up with all sorts of annoying tasks to heap on Ichigo "for extra credit" (Ichigo: "For his own entertainment.").

Starrk in the meantime is about as entertained by all this as a passively suicidal grieving widow war vet can get, and he makes no effort to hide it every time Ichigo comes to hide in his room and bitch to him about it, because really, it's partly the kid's own fault for not knowing subtlety even if it shoots him in the face. It's harmless enough anyway so long as Ichigo doesn't stand out more than he already has, so Starrk doesn't see a problem with kicking back and enjoying the show. Right up until the novelty of a prodigal Shiba starts wearing off on the Academy teachers because it's not like they've never seen geniuses before even if this one is a little more unique. So the turn their attentions elsewhere and suddenly realize that the guy who might be another bastard Kyouraku and spends more time asleep than awake have some really interesting grades when they look at them altogether at the end of term. Average in everything—so average it's suspicious, meaning Starrk either has the weirdest luck in the universe or he's literally calculating everything he's doing in class to make sure he always falls within a very specific range. Koyonagi had already noticed of course, and he's checked all the boxes that would jump Starrk up to sixth year starting next semester, but the other teachers catch on quickly enough too, and then they also start taking a fourth and fifth look at him.

Now it's Ichigo's turn to be Very Amused. Shouldn't have laughed at his suffering, huh? Karma's a real bitch.

Starrk is Not Amused, but also he can be just as stubborn as Ichigo, even if it's in the opposite direction. Ichigo very stubbornly isn't willing to be held back, he can do more as an official member of the Gotei, and slogging through six years at the Academy is just wasting time. If he has to graduate in the least amount of time possible and thereby be seen as a genius anyway, he might as well put himself out of his misery early and get that out of the way right off the bat. At least then, by the time he graduates, some of the shine will have hopefully worn off for the masses after they've gotten used to him.

Likewise, Starrk very stubbornly isn't willing to be anyone's show pony. Ichigo isn't either, but Ichigo's solution is to just ignore the fact that he sort of is, for the sake of exempting himself from fatal boredom. In contrast, Starrk 100% doesn't mind going to lectures when nobody can stop him from sleeping through them anyway, and he always turns in his homework on time and never fails his tests either so the teachers can't complain. The training sessions in the practical courses are more annoying but he doesn't usually have to do much there either, especially once he's jumped to the sixth-year courses where the teachers teach less and more often pair them up for spars or take them to fight very low-level Hollows they've captured instead. And since he's been noticed now, he doesn't care about maintaining average scores anymore because once you finish your spar or kill your assigned Hollow, you get to sit around and do nothing until everybody else is done, which suits Starrk just fine.

Koyonagi calls him to his office a couple more times, but as Starrk expects, the man grows increasingly bored with Starrk's lack of a reaction to anything he says. He even pokes at him from the "bastard Kyouraku abandoned in the Rukongai" angle, which almost makes Starrk laugh, because from a hierarchical standpoint, and to all these proudly intolerant Shinigami, even an unwanted bastard disowned from a noble clan would already be several steps up from what Starrk actually is.

There's no substance to this insult anyway, because Starrk really isn't a Kyouraku, and what does a Hollow care about noble blood or lack thereof? Koyonagi takes his shot in the dark and misses, and maybe he sees the amused pity that even Starrk can't quite hide this time, because the man's own eyes go flat with displeasure, for once probably aimed more at himself than Starrk because men like Koyonagi don't like making such crude mistakes. He dismisses Starrk and never calls him back again, although Starrk thinks that might have something to do with Ichigo, who hasn't been best pleased for a while now about Koyonagi harassing Starrk in a way that's completely different from his own harassment, and everyone knows - or will soon discover once again - that it's all fun and games until Ichigo puts his foot down. Either way, Koyonagi gives up trying to make Starrk prey, and Starrk chats his way past the Academy chefs one evening to make a spicy mentaiko udon just for Ichigo as thanks.

So in the end, they both think that's the end of that. Ichigo still has his fair share of secret admirers and envious onlookers and background sycophants looking for an easy ride into the Gotei, but his prickly disposition wards off most of them, and Starrk's flat, indifferent gaze from over Ichigo's shoulder - like he could bury you tomorrow and forget you ever existed the moment it's done - scares away the rest.

And Starrk is likewise acknowledged as another genius, but he's so unmotivated about doing anything with that genius that most of the other students don't really notice, and it's hard for even the teachers to make a big deal out of it. Eventually, they stop trying to galvanize him into displaying more of his abilities, if only to catch a squad's attention, and just let him do what he wants. Geniuses, what can you do? Each one is quirkier than the last.

So that's the end of that.

Except-

Quietly, in the background, possibly Koyonagi's roundabout way of revenge, possibly just the Shinigami's inexplicable attachment to all things bloodlines and pedigrees, the Academy comes to the enlightened conclusion that Starrk must be a Kyouraku. Maybe a branch member who doesn't want attention - seems very Starrk - or he really had been disowned, or there's some other circumstance they're not aware of, but nobility is full of drama so it could be anything. Whatever it is, they collectively agree that this assumption must be true, and over the course of the passing months, it becomes an acknowledged fact that nobody really talks about.

Starrk is lazy, but he's not unpleasant to be around. Who doesn't like an intelligent student? He's also polite, always patient when teachers flag him down for yet another chat despite refusing all opportunities to show off a little, and the Academy chefs adore him because that man can cook - his future wife will be very lucky - and he always has time to trade recipes with them. And on the occasions where some of the youngest students who'd shared classes with Starrk back in the first term approach him with questions on one subject or another, Starrk would frown and sigh a lot, but he would also sit down and answer them one by one, indulgent in a way people wouldn't expect just by looking at him.

If he really is a disowned bastard, well, privately they think that's the Kyourakus' loss, but it also means that it's probably a pretty sensitive topic to Starrk, as these things tend to be, so it's better not to throw it in his face. They're not Koyonagi after all.

(They don't understand for quite a while to come why Koyonagi always rolls his eyes and leaves the room whenever they talk about it amongst themselves.)

To be fair, they really can't be wholly blamed for coming to this conclusion despite all lack of solid evidence and testimony.

First of all, Starrk really does share a physical likeness with the Gotei 13's very well-known Eighth Division captain. Their builds are different - one broad, the other lean - but they're both tall with high cheekbones, and they share the same colouring, grey eyes and brown hair and light skin. In that, Fujiwara's the exact same way, and she is a Kyouraku branch member. It's just even more obvious with Starrk because he's male, plus a few of the Academy teachers have been around long enough to still remember Shunsui before he'd grown his hair out, and Starrk resembles that version even more.

Secondly, and this was less conspicuous, but the teachers had even dug out some of Kyouraku Shunsui's very old, very dusty papers from his Academy days for comparison.

In terms of personality, the two are almost complete opposites. One flamboyant, the other solemn. One outgoing, the other reserved. One a flirt who socializes enough for ten, the other would rather stay in bed and sleep the day away. It's just that Starrk is surprisingly good with people when he tries, and some can recall that even Kyouraku Shunsui had had his moments of quiet contemplation, which only puts more stock in the familial tie theory.

But it's in terms of mindset that really drives it home for them, because when it comes to the way they look at the world, they sync up to an almost frightening degree.

They unearth the captain's old papers from the library archives, and it's been years, centuries, but Shinigami don't tend to change much. If anything, Kyouraku Shunsui’s essays read more immaturely than Starrk’s, but the foundational reasoning from both men is solid.

They review them, and then they look at Starrk's again, and Starrk might leave questions blank on homework and tests but he's never skimped on answers when he does turn them in, and a lot of those questions are essay topics - similar enough even between Kyouraku Shunsui's generation and the current one to make a fair comparison - about hypothetical situations on the battlefield, in a fight, if you meet an ally, if you meet an enemy, if you have to choose who to save, if you have to choose who to let die—what would you do?

The respective responses are evidently written by two different people, well-debated and well-presented, but at the same time, even hundreds of years apart, their opinions and strategies and perspectives and choices on almost every single topic are near-interchangeable.

(They can't have known that Starrk had spent seven years at Shunsui's side, watching him lead, watching him fight, watching him wage a war and command his soldiers and protect his people to the best of his ability... and ultimately fail. They can't have known that he'd spent one final year leading the gutted remains of a Gotei in Shunsui's name to the best of his own ability... and also fail in all the ways that had mattered. They can't have known that even before those years, the two of them had met across a battlefield and crossed minds as much as blades, and even then, they hadn't felt like strangers to each other.)

[AUTHOR INTERRUPTS TO SAY I actually didn't want to mention Starrk's Zanpakutou like this because I have a whole thing planned out for it, as in I was insane enough one day and spent an entire afternoon creating a Bankai for him, but I also think some of you guys have probably guessed at least a bit of what his Zanpakutou looks like since I've dropped a few hints in previous snippets, so whatever, I'll just confirm its sealed form now. I guess this officially makes this snippet not part of the AU though cuz I originally had him not revealing his Zanpakutou until like a year after he graduates, post-time travel reveal. And going forward, he'd be meeting Shunsui differently here since originally their first meeting is at one of Asuka's tutoring sessions. But whatever, you can just go with whichever version you like best. Anyway, let's get on with my increasingly off-topic snippet lmao, sorry Anon.]

And last but most definitely not least, even disregarding everything else, Starrk's Zanpakutou alone is simply a Glaringly Obvious Sign From The Heavens. It's not that people from the same family always share similar Zanpakutou, but it's not exactly uncommon either—just look at the Shibas, they all have elemental Zanpakutou, and the newest one will probably go the same way; the Kuchikis have katanas with identical guards and always a white hilt or sheath; and not a single member of the Feng family that's passed through the Academy has ever left with anything but a wakizashi.

It's especially hard not to make certain connections that lead to the most obvious conclusion when everybody knows that Kyouraku Shunsui is the only Shinigami in living memory to wield a Zanpakutou that exists as two separate blades in its sealed form.

And now there is another.

The first time Starrk had finally removed his Zanpakutou - his entire Zanpakutou - from that wooden case he always carries around over one shoulder for a Zanjutsu assessment compulsory for graduation, the entire room had first gone dead silent, then burst into an uproar. Thankfully, it was a private assessment so there'd only been Starrk and several teachers inside.

They'd all thought they'd seen his Zanpakutou before - after all, he has to use a weapon in his Zanjutsu classes - but apparently, he'd always only taken one blade out for training.

A katana and a wakizashi, a daishou pair, each with a pale gold hilt, a darker gold sheath, and a blue-grey rectangular guard decorated by a sun design. Almost exactly like Kyouraku Shunsui's tachi and wakizashi, with their dark blue hilts and gold rectangular guards decorated by cherry blossom petals.

The meaning of it all could not possibly be clearer. At this point, if they're not family, they would have to be the kind of soulmates you would only find in one of those ridiculously sappy unrealistic romance novels.

(They can't have known that sometimes fate likes its jokes a little too much, and its favourites have always been the butt of them.)

Miracle of miracles, the pseudo-secret of Starrk's Zanpakutou doesn't leak right away. Starrk obviously doesn't want the attention for one reason or another, and the teachers have no real cause to spread it around so they don't. For one, they like him enough to cater to his very simple wishes, and for another, this man is clearly going to be a very powerful Shinigami one day, very likely to snag a captaincy sooner or later, and every noble clan is the same—if Starrk really is disowned, once the Kyouraku Family gets wind of what he can do, he won't be for much longer. And on top of all that, Starrk seems to be friends with the Shibas' most recent pride and joy; that's a connection that will get him far even without his own clan's backing. The Academy doesn't have much to do with the goings-on in the Gotei 13 or the government or the courts of aristocracy, but there's no need to make enemies when they don't have to.

Then comes the day Kyouraku Shunsui himself comes around for a visit.

This in itself is not new. The only career Shinigami from the Kyouraku Family isn't one to throw his weight around too much the way a lot of the other clans like to do for their kin, but he still checks up on his cousin two or three times a year, which in their opinion is already pretty admirable considering Fujiwara is not only from about as distant a branch as one can get, but also illegitimate, out of favour with her clan, and... well, painfully average in a way that means they all have to wrack their brains for compliments every time the captain shows up to ask about her.

Fortunately, for the first time since he'd taken up a position at the school, Koyonagi had done them all a favour and assigned her a tutor capable of working miracles, and so they can very happily and very honestly tell Kyouraku Shunsui all about the leaps in progress Fujiwara has made over the past several months.

The captain listens with a smile that's equal parts amicable and unfathomable, nodding in all the right places. He thanks them for their hard work even as he rakes a discerning eye over them that has them all sweating internally, but at least he also seems willing enough to not make things difficult for them now that Fujiwara is thriving under Shiba Ichigo's protection.

And that should've been it. That would've been it if Akabane Shiina, head of the Kidou department and arguably Starrk's favourite because he actually stays awake in her classes - he's certainly her favourite if the way she gushes about his gloriously tricky projects to a very resentful audience in the staffroom is anything to go by - suddenly bursts out just as the captain is making to leave:

"Are you not going to ask about your other relative?" She demands, her voice gone strident with righteous indignation. "Is it because he really was disowned and cast out into the Rukongai? But he is still better than Fujiwara!"

Shiina has no eyes for anyone without talent in Kidou. She doesn't have a problem with Fujiwara, and in fact, out of the four combat forms, Fujiwara is best at Kidou, although that might not last with the way she's catching up in all the other fields under Shiba Ichigo's tutelage, and Shiba Ichigo is notoriously slow at Kidou so he can't teach her anything in that area. But even on her own, Fujiwara's competency in Kidou is enough to meet all graduation requirements, and she'd even done fairly well in the fourth-year course Shiina had taught last year, certainly better than all her other subjects. However, she doesn't have the kind of flair for it that Shiina values.

Starrk does. And Shiina apparently does not appreciate her favourite pupil being dismissed out of hand just because he's considered one step lower on the social ladder than Fujiwara. Sure, Starrk is far more talented than Fujiwara; he's the last person anybody needs to worry about when it comes to graduating. But that's just all the more reason he deserves at least passing acknowledgement from a captain. And yet Kyouraku Shunsui can show concern for a neglected bastard but not a disowned bastard? Don't make her laugh.

Her temper has always been a straightforward creature, and so she ignores her colleagues' frantic squinting and meets Kyouraku Shunsui's gaze head-on when he pauses and then turns back, except he looks... entirely puzzled.

"Other relative?" The man echoes, looking genuinely baffled. "Did my clan send another child to the Academy? Maa, I wasn't informed. And Asuka-chan hasn't mentioned anything to me either."

A moment of silence follows. Shiina glares suspiciously at the pink-clad captain, who waits her out with the same unflappable calm Starrk pulls out whenever Shiina gets too excited about a Kidou seal and babbles for half an hour straight.

And she's supposed to believe these two have no relation to each other?

"He is not a child," She finally says. She doesn't know how old Starrk is, but it's very obvious he has at least several hundred years under his belt. He makes her feel young sometimes, and she's almost four hundred years old. "He came here from the Rukongai, with Shiba Ichigo."

She watches the way Kyouraku's eyes flicker as he takes in this information, but he doesn't emote anything except mild curiosity.

"Ah, I think I've heard a few things about Ichigo-kun's companion," Kyouraku muses. "Coyote Starrk, wasn't it? Also slated to graduate by the end of the year? But I'm afraid my clan definitely doesn't have a branch family by that name."

Well obviously, if he'd been disowned. He'd probably picked it for himself.

Kyouraku smiles a bit at whatever expression has crossed Shiina's face. It should be a scathing one. It feels scathing.

"But now I'm curious," Kyouraku continues, one hand reaching up to tilt his hat up. "For everybody-" His gaze sweeps the room, making everyone straighten in their seats. "-to think he's related to me of all people—we must be very obviously alike in some way."

Shiina scoffs, unimpressed. In some way? Try in every way.

But, at least he hasn't been ignoring Starrk on purpose. Mentally, Shiina grudgingly returns the 50 points she'd docked from him earlier.

She's about to interrogate him about what he's going to do about his curiosity - so help her, if he finds out Starrk really is family, then lets Starrk know that he knows now, and then rejects him for being disowned, captain or no, she's going to make him pay - when one of her colleagues, Koyonagi's gopher actually, because the man himself couldn't be bothered to show up, so as always, he'd sent his nominal vice-department head, interrupts.

"Are you certain you’ve never met?" The man blurts out like he can’t help himself. Especially now that Shiina’s fielded the hard part, and Kyouraku hasn’t taken offense. "Surely you've discussed his essays at least!"

Kyouraku arches an eyebrow. "I can't say I have. But what makes you say that?"

The Zanjutsu teacher flounders. The sixth-year Philosophy teacher is less unprepared and simply pulls out a folder, only about a third full, but they still have a little over a month to go. At least it lets the teachers spread them out a bit instead of having to read them all at once at the end. It was the original reason for the meeting today before Kyouraku had dropped by—going through some of these papers while their workload is still relatively light.

There is an essay question assigned to every student at the beginning of their final year at the Academy. Unlike all other assignments, this one must be completed in order to graduate whether or not your grades are up to par. Students have the whole year to finish it, but it can be handed in anytime.

It's long been said that the the essay question is something Yamamoto Genryuusai himself had come up with, originally posed to his two personal students hundreds of years ago, and unlike all other topics where the details would at least be switched up from year to year, this one has never changed since it had first been included in the curriculum.

To defend honour or to protect life—which should a Shinigami of the Gotei 13 choose to uphold? Why? Which would you choose? Why?

There is actually no correct answer. So long as the paper is written with some thought put in, it’s an automatic pass. But every year without fail, the lieutenant of the First will come by and cart the whole pile away. Nobody can say for sure what happens to them.

Nevertheless, most students choose honour for both parts of the question. Whether they believe it or not, they at least know the politically correct answer, the safe one. Some of the more outspoken students - usually Rukon stock - might choose honour for the first part but argue life for the second part.

Kyouraku Shunsui had been the only one in Academy history to have chosen life for both parts, and now, Coyote Starrk and Shiba Ichigo have joined him.

Shiina watches as Kyouraku wanders back over to peer down at the two essays the Philosophy teacher lays out on the table. She watches as the captain smiles, appreciative and a little amused, as he scans Shiba Ichigo's paper—a fierce discourse on the importance of friends and family, of prioritizing comrades even if it means breaking the law, of doing right by them even if it means discarding the honour of the Gotei or your own honour as a Shinigami because there's no honour in abandoning your loved ones.

And then she watches his gaze move to the other paper, and she watches as his smile fades and his expression goes still. His hand comes up again to tug down the brim of his hat but he never looks up from the essay—a succinct dissertation on doing everything possible to preserve the lives of those in your care, because the duty of a Shinigami to the Gotei 13 is first and foremost to protect the people who depend on them, to shield the world they all reside in, to stand between danger and the realms they have been charged with safeguarding.

—What does honour matter when you cannot protect what you have sworn to protect?

—When you make the choice to step on a battlefield, you are choosing to do all in your power to seize victory, because anything less is an insult to those who have placed their trust in you, a threat to those who rely on you, and a broken oath to those you gave your word to protect.

—When you make the choice to kill, because taking a life is in itself an evil act, you are choosing to carry the necessary sins that will be demanded of you in battle so that others will not have to.

—When you make the choice to protect, you are choosing to discard your honour, because honour will not protect your people. It will not protect the world. It will not protect anything save your own sense of righteousness, and what is that worth if all you care for is gone?

—To be a Shinigami means to shoulder the weight of countless souls. In essence, it is a promise to protect life to the very end, and if honour is the cost, then it is a small price to pay.

Shiina has read Starrk's paper several times already. She had even made her own copy.

She thinks he will make an exceptional Shinigami.

Nobody says a word even after enough time has passed for Kyouraku to have read the paper twice over. What little Shiina can still see of his shadowed face is utterly inscrutable.

When he finally stirs, straightening up to look around, there's something new in his eyes, some emotion Shiina can't place that remains even as he murmurs, "I don't suppose you know where-"

He stops when - as if on cue - a familiar reiatsu signature in the distance rounds the corner of the hallway leading to this room.

It isn't Starrk's reiatsu. He's hard to sense on a good day. But everyone has felt Shiba Ichigo's reiatsu at least once. Boy isn't subtle. He has the skill to hide most of it, but spikes of emotion or even just when he's distracted can bring it out sometimes, and his reiatsu - like that first shocking plunge into ice water that robs you of all breath right before any other sensation hits - isn't one people tend to forget.

And where Shiba Ichigo goes, more often than not, Starrk is there as well.

Shiina checks the time. Classes are out. It's Friday. Chances are good they're together.

Several feet beyond the door, the reiatsu signature comes to an abrupt halt. A few seconds pass, two muffled voices murmur something back and forth, and then footsteps resume, heavier this time, before three brisk knocks are heard.

The head of administration - the one with the highest rank in the room, bar the Shinigami captain - clears his throat, glances at her glower, glances at Kyouraku's perfectly genial expression, and then calls out like a coward, "Come in!"

The door swings open, Shiba Ichigo stalks in, and sure enough, Coyote Starrk shuffles in after him, hands in his pockets, and his bag and the wooden case containing his Zanpakutou slung over one shoulder. His face is so impassive it could've been carved out of marble.

Shiina docks 100 points from everyone in the room. Except Starrk of course.

But even she can't help staring at this meeting that somehow feels like it's been a long time coming.

Starrk's gaze rises. Kyouraku's gaze jumps straight past Ichigo. Their eyes meet, and for just a moment, all of time seems to shudder to a halt.

Silence stretches... and snaps.

"Hey, what's everyone staring at?" Ichigo cuts in irritably, waving the sheaf of papers he's holding in one hand. "We're supposed to hand in our waivers for the assessment on Monday, right? What's the hold up?"

He shoots a look to his left where Starrk and Kyouraku are still standing there staring at each other like the rest of the world has ceased to exist. He's already scowling, but he scowls even harder at the sight.

"Good afternoon, Kyouraku-taichou," He greets very pointedly.

Kyouraku blinks, and Starrk turns away, busying himself with digging out his own papers from his bag. The moment passes, and Kyouraku turns to Ichigo as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, "Ichigo-kun, what a coincidence. What are you here for?"

Ichigo's gaze bobs between Kyouraku and Starrk again before he shakes the papers in his hand once more. "Starrk-san and I have our second Hohou assessment on Monday. It's the one where they drop us off in an arena full of Hollows, and we have to get out using only Hohou. But we have to assure the school we won't blame them if we get killed, so-"

He brandishes the waivers again and finally looks back at the teachers in the room. "I actually don't know why we have to do this. I asked Matsumoto, and she said she doesn't have to fill out any of this stuff."

The admin head coughs delicately. "It's for clan members, Shiba-san."

Three things happen at once:

Shiba Ichigo, predictably at this point, snaps, "I'm not a clan member!"

Coyote Starrk stops halfway through pulling out his own waivers.

And Kyouraku Shunsui goes back to staring at Starrk, although Shiina thinks he doesn't quite know he's doing it so blatantly.

"Shiba-san, your cousin has already had your name changed to indicate official entry into the clan," The admin head says placatingly. "And he assured us that it was with your approval."

Ichigo glares, clearly all set to spend the next hour fighting this new information tooth and nail. "That doesn't mean-"

"Ichigo," Starrk finally speaks up, but he doesn't say more than that. It doesn't seem like he needs to though because Ichigo breaks off, still scowling, but he also glances back at Starrk, who only arches an eyebrow in return.

Ichigo grumbles something under his breath before slapping his papers down on the desk in front of the admin head. "Fine, whatever, I'll go beat him up later. Starrk-san?"

Starrk meanders over, his own waivers already tucked away again. There's a slight slouch to his frame, his gloved hands are back in his pockets, and he doesn't loom, even stopping a foot behind Ichigo, but when he turns his attention on the admin head, the man almost visibly squirms under that blue-grey gaze.

"I'm not from a clan," He says mildly.

As one, the entire room sans the students and the Shinigami captain turn to look at said captain. A moment later, even the students turn to follow their line of sight.

Kyouraku stares back. Or rather, he meets Starrk's gaze again, dark and intent, searching.

Ichigo snorts. The tension breaks.

"This again?" Ichigo glances at Starrk again. "I thought that rumour went away months ago."

"I thought so too," Starrk agrees in bland tones. He looks from one teacher to the next, and even Shiina ducks her head a little when his gaze sweeps over her.

Another beat of silence ensues before it's Starrk's turn to heave a sigh.

"I'm not from a clan," He repeats in that quietly implacable way of his, and even though there's nothing threatening about him, not in his voice, not on his face, not in his posture, not even in his reiatsu, something in their hindbrains stills like cornered prey anyway.

"I am not a branch member," Starrk continues without much inflection. "Or an illegitimate child, I have never been disowned, and whatever else your... very healthy imagination has come up with," For a split second, he looks almost amused. "I can assure you, I am not that either."

He stops. He needn't have gone on because Shiina definitely believes him this time, or at the very least, she believes he genuinely believes he isn't a Kyouraku.

Except then Starrk also turns to the side where Kyouraku is observing everything in silence. Grey meets grey once more.

"This Taichou-san," Starrk says, looking at the captain in question. His face is unreadable. "Is Kyouraku Shunsui of the Eighth Division, right? Then he should be able to confirm—I am not a part of his clan."

Another moment of silence passes. Shiina catches the way Ichigo's expression has gone grim, although for what reason, she doesn't know.

There's been something off about this whole situation from the start. Why those two couldn't have gone away and come back later is beyond her. They'd clearly sensed Kyouraku inside even before knocking.

"It's true, as far as I'm aware, we really aren't related," Kyouraku says after a few seconds of studying Starrk some more. His eyes don't move away even as he speaks, and his tone is... strangely gentle. "And this should be our first time meeting."

Starrk's gaze slides away at almost the exact same time Ichigo reaches out and snags the sleeve of Starrk's Shihakushou, tugging him forward and around, which just so happens to plant him between Starrk and Kyouraku.

"So is there anything else?" Ichigo says loudly. "Or can we go?"

There's a moment where most of the teachers seem to have forgotten why they're there in the first place. Shiina huffs and decisively takes over.

If she could have her way, she would've already ejected Kyouraku from the room. Maybe they really aren't blood-related - what are the odds though? - but she's pretty sure there's something going on between them anyway. Them and Ichigo.

Whatever, it's not her business. Since both parties have said so, everyone else will just have to accept it.

But now that they've reached this point...

"Come here, I need to tag your Zanpakutou," She says briskly, taking out a box as she beckons them over. "The second Hohou assessment bans the use of Zanpakutou. You'd be surprised how many Zanjutsu-focused students try to cheat anyway, so all Zanpakutou have these attached to them before the assessment begins."

She shows them the tags with seals inscribed across the surface. They're nothing fancy, akin to nametags, but they do their job.

"We don't like separating Zanpakutou from their wielders once students reach their fifth year," She explains. "And all Shinigami are encouraged to get used to carrying their Zanpakutou with them at all times anyway. This way, you'll be able to take them in with you, but we'll know if you unsheathe them."

She takes out three tags and flares her reiatsu, watching half the seals light up before holding them out. "There. Loop the string around the sheath before tying it over the hilt, and then I'll finish locking them. They won't affect your Zanpakutou in any way, and you can still unsheathe your swords anytime. Try not to do that until after the assessment though. There's not much time on Monday to redo the tags, and you'll get marks docked off if you use them during the test."

Ichigo nods and grabs a tag first, head dipping as he reaches for the katana at his waist. Then he jerks back up again, wide-eyed, but Shiina isn't paying any attention to him anymore as she looks up at Starrk.

Starrk blinks at her once, slowly. His expression doesn't shift from its indifferent lines, but after a few seconds, something about his eyes thaws, the corners crinkling briefly with the faintest of mirth.

"You're a bit... petty, Sensei-san," He murmurs in a voice pitched so low only she and Ichigo can hear.

Shiina shrugs unrepentantly. She still can't be 100% sure Starrk isn't a Kyouraku no matter what the man himself believes, but she is sure that either way, it's the Kyouraku Family's loss.

If Starrk isn't a Kyouraku, then it doesn't matter, although knowing nobles, they'll probably be at least a little disgruntled that their unique dual-wielding Shinigami is unique no longer, and it's even someone from Rukongai who's manifested a daishou pair.

And if he is a Kyouraku, an ugly secret the clan had erased so thoroughly that even the only remaining heir of the main branch wasn't told, then Shiina wants them to know, wants to rub it in their faces, wants to shout, Look what you missed out on! Look what you lost! He's no less special than the only Shinigami you've produced!

So sue her. Maybe she's been a little bitter about Starrk receiving no offers from the Gotei divisions beyond the generic ones most students get because there are always unseated cannon fodder positions needing to be filled. Technically, it's Starrk's own fault for utterly failing to stand out in any way, but Shiina doesn't mind blaming everyone else for being blind.

She doesn't know what all Starrk can do, but she is absolutely certain he is far, far more powerful than he's let on. His Kidou work alone is magnificent, and someone like that can't possibly remain in obscurity. Anyone who looks down on him for his circumstance of birth or lack of background will regret it. This is just the first step.

Starrk huffs out an exasperated breath but doesn't refuse her little scheme because obviously she's his favourite teacher. He takes the tags, and then reaches up to twist off the cap of the wooden case.

One could hear a pin drop in the subsequent silence as Starrk retrieves his katana and wakizashi in one fluid motion and lays them out on the desk in front of him. The nearby lamp light catches on the katana's hilt for a moment, making it shine, like sun on sand. With deft steady hands, he attaches a tag to each blade, calm even with a sea of eyes on him.

Shiina slants a look to the side through her eyelashes and suppresses a very satisfied smile.

Kyouraku Shunsui looks like he's been hit over the head with a hammer. She's willing to bet it's a rare look on him, even for someone with a reputation for making a bit of a fool of himself in public whenever he drinks.

He looks stunned now, stunned and... and something else, the same something he'd shown after reading Starrk's paper, except in his distraction, it's far more noticeable now, even if just for a few seconds.

Wonder, Shiina thinks, and doesn't know what to think of it.

"Sensei-san?" Starrk prompts, tilting his blades towards her.

Shiina gives herself a mental shake before finishing up with the tags, Starrk's first, then Ichigo's.

"That's done then, you can go," Shiina tells them. "Have a good weekend. Don't be late on Monday."

Ichigo breathes a sigh of relief, looking reenergized, while Starrk nods at her, nods at the other teachers, and even inclines his head in Kyouraku's direction, before they both turn to go.

"I should get going too then," Kyouraku says, smiling once more and as affably composed again as ever. "Wouldn't want to overstay my welcome."

Shiina stoops down to put the box of tags away just so nobody will see her roll her eyes. By the time she sits up again, her colleagues have seen the captain off, and she silently wishes Starrk good luck with that one. Still, she doesn't regret waving his Zanpakutou in the man's face. She does dock off another 20 points though because she's decided she doesn't much like Kyouraku, especially when he's in Starrk's vicinity.

"Hey!" The Philosophy teacher suddenly calls out, flipping through the papers on the desk. "Where did Coyote-san's essay go?"

Everyone spends a minute looking for it. Shiba Ichigo's is still on the table.

Shiina glances at the door and lets her lip curl. Minus 100 points. She's never met anyone who's hit the negative hundreds so quickly in her life.

The others realize it too soon enough, and the admin head eventually sighs. "It's fine, we have a few copies anyway, and it's not the first time we've lost an essay."

"So... he's not a Kyouraku then?" Someone else pipes up.

An uncertain hush falls over the room. No one is convinced, Shiina included.

"Just..." The admin head waves a weary hand. "Treat him as we always have. It doesn't hurt to be cordial to a future captain, noble or otherwise."

Everybody agrees, and that's that.

-0-

Ichigo has never felt so awkward in his life. He finally understands what being a light bulb means, and these two aren't even dating anymore. Yet. Again. Whatever.

Still, he obstinately makes sure he walks between them. It's not much, but it's probably better than inflicting all of... Kyouraku on Starrk right away. The past twenty minutes had been awful enough. Not many had noticed, or if they had, they probably hadn't been able to pinpoint exactly what was wrong, but Ichigo knows Starrk.

Knows him well enough to tell that the man isn't in any way as put-together as he seems on the surface. Knows too that he's probably thinking about crawling into bed or walking into a lake or disappearing into the sands of Hueco Mundo and just never coming out again.

Ichigo doesn't know how to fix it though, doesn't know if this can even be fixed. The last year in their own timeline had answered him with a resounding no. So all he can do for now is stay close and make sure Starrk is never alone in these moments.

No one is talking. Ichigo wouldn’t usually mind, but the silence this time is tense. It’s also rare to have Kyouraku around and not have any conversation going. The man isn’t actually that chatty most of the time, even if he is a people person, but for there to be something interesting in his immediate vicinity - and Kyouraku is interested in Starrk, even Ichigo can tell that much - and yet choose to remain silent? Ichigo doesn’t like it.

They get all the way to the entrance of the staff building before Ichigo cracks.

“So what were you here for today, Taichou?” Ichigo asks. “Uh, if you can say, I guess.”

Shunsui glances over at him, glances past him, then back. “Maa, it wasn’t anything special. I was just asking about Asuka-chan's progress. You’ve done a good job with her.”

Ichigo flushes a little. “I didn’t do much. She just needed some confidence.”

Kyouraku hums, amused but warm somehow. He's always been good at that. “We’ll agree to disagree then. I’m grateful either way.”

Ugh, this was not what Ichigo had wanted. But he ends up nodding stiffly, and thankfully, Kyouraku gets the hint and drops the subject with a chuckle.

But that also means he has time to glance at Starrk again, like he's checking for a reaction. Unfortunately for him, Starrk is currently impersonating a statue, and he hasn't looked at Kyouraku once since they'd left the meeting room.

It's only when they step outside that Starrk finally stirs. He turns to face them, eyes on Ichigo, features carved from stone. "I turn off here."

Ichigo blinks. Oh, right, but- "You're already going back to the dorms? Fujiwara and Matsumoto want to go out for dinner."

Starrk nods. "I know, you mentioned it yesterday. I won't go. Give me your bag, I'll take it back for you."

Reflexively, Ichigo hands him his bag, but he also tacks on, "You can come too, they're definitely expecting you to."

Starrk shakes his head. "I'm tired, I'll probably just turn in early."

Ichigo opens his mouth to argue, but... to be honest, in Starrk's place, he probably wouldn't want to be inflicted with Matsumoto's energy either. Fujiwara's taking after her a little too much for comfort these days, and Gin is probably going to be there too, and nobody wants to put up with Gin when they're already feeling bad. Of course, Gin always looks sour-faced around Starrk instead of the other way around. Ichigo is pretty sure it's because Starrk has a way about him that makes the suspicious brat feel like the man's constantly catching him red-handed or something every time Starrk so much as looks at him, which is hilarious, but it also means Gin tends to either avoid Starrk whenever possible or needle him when it isn't. Starrk doesn't usually care, but it isn't exactly what anyone would call a good time.

"Okay," Ichigo says instead. "Just make sure you eat something first."

"Mm," Starrk says, very obviously not agreeing to anything. God, Ichigo is surrounded by people who are going to worry him into an early grave. On the other hand, can it be called an early grave when he probably should've died something like ten years ago?

...Wow, that's depressing. Best not to think about it too hard.

"Go have fun," Starrk says before Ichigo can press on the point about food. Sometimes, it's like Starrk forgets he's not just a Hollow anymore. Ichigo had heard that Starrk had transcended hunger even as an Adjuchas because his reiatsu had done the "eating" for him—and then some. And even after reaching the peak of a Hollow's evolution, he's still never needed as much of any kind of food as regular Shinigami, but that doesn't mean it's healthy either for him to eat nothing.

"Don't stay out too late, don't drink too much," Starrk continues, and Ichigo is distracted enough by this to drop the previous subject.

He rolls his eyes. "Okay, Dad. You know it's a Friday, right?"

Also he's not a teenager anymore, he doesn't say, because he's still mindful of Kyouraku's presence behind him.

(His human body had died as a teenager though, at the ripe old age of seventeen. Some days, it feels like he's still aging at the pace of a human, all grown up and as jaded as an adult can get. Other days, when Kaien acts like an annoying big brother around him, or when Starrk fusses over him in that weary, gentle way of his, Ichigo feels exactly like the kid he would be if he'd been born in Soul Society.

He's still not sure how to feel about that. It's weird, always, but... not always bad.)

Starrk raises his eyebrows. "Matsumoto has a makeup test at noon tomorrow. Ichimaru has an early shift in the morning. Fujiwara has an appointment with her advisor at nine, and you-" A wisp of amusement actually makes it all the way onto his face for a moment. "-have remedial Kidou lessons with Koyonagi at ten."

Ichigo immediately scowls. "It's not remedial lessons! That bastard just doesn't know how to butt out of my business!"

Starrk hums noncommittally, but Ichigo's on to him. That's his I'm laughing at you on the inside because I'm secretly an asshole hum.

"How do you even know all these things?" Ichigo grumbles, because honestly, even when Starrk comes to hang out with them, he spends at least two-thirds of the time napping instead of paying attention to anything going on around him. Ichigo hadn't known they'd all be so busy tomorrow.

Starrk just gives him a blank look like he doesn't understand the question. Ichigo rolls his eyes again and gives up.

"It's not like I was planning on staying out that late anyway," He huffs. "We'll be fine for tomorrow."

Starrk nods and says nothing else. Ichigo doesn't have the words to describe how much he likes that about the guy. Unlike Kaien, Starrk says his piece when he feels strong enough about something to actually make his opinion known, but the rest is up to the other party to decide for themselves, for better or for worse. Unless of course you're bleeding a river with your insides hanging outside and trying to insist you can totally still fight.

Healers. They're somehow all carved from the same terrifying, unbending mold. The day Starrk meets Unohana, the Gotei 13 may never know peace again.

Starrk slings Ichigo's bag over his shoulder as well, and then his gaze finally skates past Ichigo to the man waiting patiently on the side while listening with shameless interest.

"Kyouraku-taichou, I'll be taking my leave," Starrk says, polite and formal as he bows his head, as an Academy student should before a captain, and it's- it's wrong, it's all wrong.

Ichigo doesn't really count the first time he'd met Starrk as their first meeting, which means that for as long as he's known this man, it has always been as a package deal with Kyouraku, right up until that final year. To this day, he has no idea how those two had happened, but it's not like 80% of the people he'd known and befriended hadn't been his enemies once upon a time too, so he has no room to judge.

The point is though, from Ichigo's perspective, Starrk had always followed faithfully in Kyouraku's wake, in his shadow, at his shoulder, hunched over the same desk and working long into the night or decimating a battlefield on Kyouraku's command, with eyes for no one else, even when - in the early days - enemy Quincy had mocked him as the Captain-Commander's tamed mutt, and their own allies had disdained him for being Ukitake's substitute. But likewise, while Kyouraku had forged ahead to pave a bloody road through the enemy ranks because there was no one else to do it for them anymore so he'd had to do it for everyone else, it was always Starrk he'd looked back at, always certain that he would only ever have to reach out and there Starrk would be, and no matter what anyone had said about lingering loyalty to Aizen or potential spy for the Quincy or even a Captain-Commander with such an unsightly weakness, Starrk had been the only thing Kyouraku had refused to hear a single dissenting word about.

They'd orbited each other and stood as a unit at the helm of the Gotei 13, and to see them like this now - separated by death and time and memory - even Ichigo aches at the sight. There's barely five feet between them but it might as well be a canyon.

Maybe Kyouraku can sense something of it too, because he tilts his hat down until it casts a shadow over his eyes, like he can't bear to look, but at the same time, his gaze remains glued to Starrk like he can't bear to look away either.

"Aa, I'm glad to have met Ichigo-kun's most mysterious friend at last," Kyouraku says, voice as laidback as ever, eyes anything but. "You've never come along with the others when Ichigo-kun is training Asuka-chan in my backyard."

It isn't quite a question, but Starrk blinks slowly and replies, "That's usually late afternoon. I prefer taking a nap."

Kyouraku smiles a little, and the curve of it is almost sly. "My division grows the most beautiful cherry blossom trees in all of the Seireitei, and they're just starting to bloom. It's a good place for a nap while you wait for your friends to finish up."

Starrk's brow furrows faintly. "...It would be disrespectful to intrude. I'm just a student."

Kyouraku waves a dismissive hand. "And I'm the captain. I can do what I want. And letting someone sleep under a tree is hardly an earth-shattering allowance."

Starrk blinks again before giving the impression of a shrug without actually moving his shoulders. "Thank you for the offer. I'll keep it in mind."

Even Ichigo has to hide a wince at the flat tone. But Kyouraku only smiles some more. "Good. You can come by anytime."

Starrk nods, a graceful dip of his head that lets his gaze fall away as he directs his next words at Ichigo, "I'll see you when you get back then." Then once more at Kyouraku, "Have a good evening, Kyouraku-taichou."

And then he's gone without so much as a blur left behind. Ichigo doesn't understand why they don't just give Starrk an automatic pass for Hohou when the guy uses Shunpou like he's teleporting, and then he remembers that most likely no one else has actually seen him use it yet with this kind of proficiency.

He turns back to Kyouraku, then falters. The man is staring after Starrk, smile nowhere to be found, which Ichigo had expected, but there's also an unsettling air of loss about him, heavy as a funeral shroud. And then, in the next second, Ichigo suddenly finds himself on the receiving end of a dark, ruthless, calculating gaze that Ichigo's only ever seen on the future Kyouraku, on the Captain-Commander at his best, at his worst, his blades stained with lifeblood, his shadows come alive with abyssal hunger.

All the hairs on the back of Ichigo's neck stand up, and a chill runs down his spine. He will honestly never understand how Starrk could look at this particular monster time and time again and never even seem to notice the threat, had always walked in Kyouraku's shadows like they were an embrace and not a bottomless void of remorseless avarice. But Ichigo's also faced down plenty of things just as scary as Kyouraku Shunsui, so he only needs a moment to re-center himself and beat back the instinctive lurch of alarm in his gut.

It's easy to forget, most of the time, just what this man is capable of.

They end up staring at each other in silence, and for a moment, it almost seems like Kyouraku might finally push for some answers. Ichigo knows he hasn't been the most subtle, and there are a handful of people out there nowadays who have their suspicions about him, but so far, none of them have approached him about it.

Kyouraku looks like he's about to. For a split second, he looks like he dearly wants an explanation, and he won't much care either what he might have to do to get it.

Figures, a part of Ichigo thinks wryly even as the rest of him goes tense with a guarded sort of apprehension. It would be Starrk-san who brings this out in him.

But between one breath and the next, Kyouraku blinks, blinks again, and the strained tension pops like a balloon as the monster disappears back into the shadows, and Kyouraku is casually adjusting his hat like the whole stare-down hadn't happened at all.

Ichigo feels his eye twitch.

"Well then, I should be heading off too," Kyouraku declares, and his gaze is feather-light when he glances at Ichigo once more. "I suppose I'll see you at Asuka-chan's next tutoring session. Perhaps I might see some of your friends too, hm? The more the merrier of course, so don't worry about any noise complaints. It's good to be livelier when you're young."

"Uh-huh," Ichigo says very dryly. Internally, he sighs and makes a mental note to do his best to convince Starrk to come with him next time.

Of course, he'll be first in line to beat Kyouraku up if this all turns into (more) heartbreak and (more) tragedy, but...

He's not actually so oblivious that he doesn't know Starrk might still only see a cliff's edge that he'll be more than happy to take a swan dive off of at the end of all this. He talks a good game, and after a year of practice, he's gotten a lot better at hiding his grief. At the very least, ever since they'd come back in time, Ichigo hasn't been able to pick up much more than a haze of melancholy from Starrk that comes and goes at irregular intervals.

He doesn't know how to fix it, doesn't know if it can even be fixed. But he does know that if anyone can pull Starrk back from that cliff, it's this man in front of him.

And Ichigo's lost enough people. He doesn't want to lose Starrk too.

So he'll keep an eye on this relationship, make sure Kyouraku doesn't overstep, and make sure Starrk isn't letting Kyouraku overstep, but otherwise, he doesn't think it's a bad idea to help it along a little.

He fervently hopes he's making the right choice.

Kyouraku takes off with a last friendly nod, and Ichigo also hurries away to meet up with Fujiwara and Matsumoto.

For now, everything will keep another day.

[leavemetoplaythesims]

camilla and alec for my life and death gameplay save <3

[arson-09]

Tamlin is actually such an underrated character in acotar. Because of feyres very biased narrative she forces readers to ignore the complexity of his character and man. its sad

Tamlin is a character who is genuinely GOOD at his core. He changed so much of the spring court for good, eliminating slavery within the spring lands and mortals having more protection. Hes a morally good character that made a few mistakes and is boiled down to just those mistakes. Locking feyre in the house and the magical/emotional blow up, which are both pretty decent fuck ups (i dont think siding with hybern fully counts as he was a double agent all along and tamlin was decently justified in thinking feyre was being kept against her will. lets be fr here) and even after he’s extremely fucked over by the nightcourt, his lands and court burned to shit, he still saves rhysand. Saves rhysand and tells feyre to be happy, even when he has every reason to NOT do that!

Hes a character that clearly holds himself to a higher standard. throughout acotar he puts lucien and feyres safety above his own, even sending feyre away when she was the only one who could save him. Even though what he did to her wasnt great its not completely irredeemable, rhysand did much worse things to feyre and other people but hes living his best life while Tamlin seems to find himself unworthy of being a person (acosf wheres hes been in beast form for roughly over two years) hes a perfectionist who now doesnt even think he deserves anyone because he accidentally hurt the people he loves most.

Sjm accidentally created a beautifully rich and morally righteous character who is so extremely fucked by the narrative. Which doesnt even work half the time as sjm cant seemingly commit to making him a full villain (seemingly by accident again she gave him quite a reasonable explanation to everything he did ‘wrong’ but still chooses to make him a punching bag)

If Tamlin was genuinely a morally evil character he wouldnt have NEARLY the amount of fans as he does. Hes a character that requires the minimum amount of media literacy and comprehension to understand and i LOVE him.

[yayll]

omg PLSPLSPLS GIVE US GIRLDAD!DAZAI!!! Im literally so obsessed w ur work and luv luv luv reading it <3

just wanna say thank u so much anon for sending in the CUTEST request ever i have never thought abt it this way and when i finally did it was over for me. it wrote itself. THANK U FOR LIKING MY WORK THATS SO SWEET AHHH :') i keep getting ill so srry it's a lil late but i am so thankful for you trusting me w ur concept. mwahhhh.

~ a little something about girldad!Dazai simply trying his best, and loving it ~

Dazai never thought the day would come when his life finally felt complete. First, you happened to him and that was something he couldn't even fathom in a million lifetimes. It wasn't meant for him, and letting love into his heart felt like going against the nature of things. He struggled with it for a long time, pushing you away and making sure you realized this wasn't something worth pursuing... but you never relented, and he stopped fighting the longing for something more. You made him feel it was okay to want, to yearn, to need. And so came along every single repressed desire he had ever had. The love between you bloomed, and he thought this was the height of it all; The bandages he wore over his body were no longer grim reminders of his lack of humanity and the masks he wore on the daily. Those frayed wraps of fabric were symbols of love returning, of patience, of a lived in soul, and he no longer had to maintain them alone. He had you.

And then one day, he suddenly had a little girl in his life.

Another life to nurture and to start anew with, and his fear was that he yet again could not redeem himself from his past, but he was determined for her, for you and for himself to not let that be the case. When you gave him the most precious thing he didn't think he ever wanted nor could ever have, that was the day he vowed to be the epitome of a true figure worth looking up to. Osamu Dazai, the family man! Dad of the year!

... Except today, when he woke up late to take the apple of his eye to preschool. You were out of town, and though you eventually claimed to have faith in his solo parenting skills, it was a complete leap of faith. He comforted you for hours, how hard could it be? He can be both parents at once! How cruel of you to even doubt him. He remembers the look on your face when he slammed the door on you while holding your precious angel in his arms, both of them giggling while they waved you off as if they rehearsed it.

Aaaand now he realized why you were so worried. He looks at the time and he springs out of bed, running off to her bedroom. She even sleeps like a little lamb, he thinks to himself. He rushes at her side and softly turns her over.

"Little love, wake uuupppp..."

She pouts, shaking her head as she shifts in her sleep. He sighs and tries again a little more desperately.

"If you wake up, that will be really good for daddy, otherwise mommy will kill me! Up we go!"

He picks her up, and she rubs her eyes as Dazai does the most rushed morning routine ever.

He gets her dressed, though the socks don't match, and when he does her pigtails, they're lopsided. How do you do it?! And now he has to FEED her?! He stuffs a few handfuls of cereal into his mouth while giving her a proper bowl, but they're so late he thinks they should just start walking now.

"Take the bowl with you, we can do this thing called eat and walk! Yes?"

"'Kay, daddy!"

She simply giggles, not understanding how dire it is for her to make it today. She holds onto her cereal bowl as he grabs her backpack, both of them walking out into the street. Dazai's fast walking and her bowl sloshes a bit as she tries to match his pace and eat at the same time.

She's waddling adorably, and he gets lost in watching her carefully while also literally getting lost finding the school. He stops at the crosswalk, and thinks to himself. She looks up at him with a milk mustache, and her soft melodic voice rings once more like a voice of reason. She points to the right.

"That way! hehe."

Dazai has no time to fact check this, and at this point she's parenting him. You'd pass out of laughter if you could see him right now. They rush towards the school, and when he drops her off at the gate, he gives her a big kiss on her forehead.

"I love you, okay? Now give daddy the cereal bowl. How yum was that?"

She cheers, smiling wide.

"Yum!!!!"

He smirks, and takes the bowl. At least he got that right, that smile alone is worth every late start to his mornings. He waves at her as she enters the school, and forgets he's holding the bowl still, her teacher looking at him like he's deranged. You were so proud to hear that his first time parenting alone went so smooth! What you didn't know was that your little girl did most of the work keeping him on track. Still counts, right?

Another time he was exemplary was when he had just given her a bath and you were supervising to make sure he got her routine down.

"Osamu, that's the conditioner. The shampoo is over there."

You laugh while pointing at the clearly marked bottle. He rolls his eyes, smirking as he continues to rub it in her little swirl of dark hair.

"Oh please, I knew that. This makes it soft! And all detangled... It's a better routine, trust me. This is so much better."

He was totally bullshitting, he had no idea there was more than one hair product ever. This is the same man who used to find showers foreign and eat canned crab for every meal. You simply nodded, seeing right through his facade. But it was all so endearing watching your daughter splash the water on his face and play with rubber duckies, it was a dream come true. It was a dream you knew was more precious to him than anything, so you let him have his fun.

Once bath time is over, he places her on the bed in her diaper and walks out to grab her a change of clothes. Uh oh, he forgot today was laundry day! He walks back into the room a few moments later, thinking of how to pivot without having to bother you when he sees his little angel wrapped head to toe in a full roll of his bandages. His eyes go wide at the sight of the wrapped up toddler, and he laughs nervously as he rushes over while she has the time of her life squealing and rolling around the bed. He pretends to be mad.

"Little love! That's not clothes, silly! That's for daddy only, you have your own."

She simply disregards this, her mind focusing on how hilarious it would be if she just started making bubbles with her saliva instead. Dazai chuckles again, and puts his hands on his hips.

"Oh, such attitude! You know, l'm gonna have to do it... Remember when I told you about daddy's old job? I'm gonna have to get mean againnn..~"

He immediately launches himself onto the bed, tickling her through the thick fabric, and when you rush over you find them both just collapsed on the bed, Dazai counting her fingers and toes in order to distract her enough to unwrap her. Luckily, you had a spare onesie for her to save the day... even if it took the both of you to get her out of her improvised outfit. What a strong willed little one! You hoped this wasn't a special abillity developing...

It's no surprise she's a daddy's girl either, a mini Dazai at her core with your balancing characteristics on the surface. She was a little menace, sticking her tongue out at dogs every time she saw them because Dazai would do the same. He would even go as far as to help her dress like her hero! Of course you both had a stroke when you saw how tightly she wore that bolo tie, but the laugh after was worth the worry... After you scolded both of them... but it proved useless against two of the most experienced charmers you've ever met. You just couldn't win.

You especially could never get used to the sight after a long day of existing in the real world, simply watching her climb up to the couch and playing with Dazai's hair as she nuzzles herself into his shoulder, right in the crook of his neck. It was just as intense for his poor little heart as well. The way she'd yank on a strand while he pretended to be asleep was priceless, or when she'd stick her finger in his nose, causing him to have a sneezing fit soon after. It was almost karmic the way she both adored him and put him in his place, just like you.

"Daddy has brown hair because he drinks chocolate milk."

"Daddy stinks today. Throw him away!"

"Daddy looks like a mummy. Do you like mummies?"

"Who's Kunikida? He yelled at daddy today, it was funny!"

She'd babble on about all kinds of curious nonsense. You'd simply nod and agree. She was never wrong!

But what really got to you was watching her pass out on his head after hours of playtime, and the way Dazai would finally open his eyes with that smug smile of his, scooping her up and carefully taking her to bed. He tucks her in, whispering about all the adventures they'll have tomorrow and the days after. About all the rules they'll break together, and mysteries they'll solve when he takes her to work with him. He doesn't tell bedtime stories per se, but he spends all his time having actual conversations with her until she dozes off because he cannot believe this is a little extension of him and he's just as fascinated with knowing her the way she is with him. With life.

She's full of it, something he wasn't for a long time, and it brings him to tears when he sometimes thinks about it too long in private.

You're both his life and he didn't realize he could still feel regret like he does when he thinks of all the times he spent trying to end his own existence. It's a whole different world, and sure, he also loves to use her as an excuse to continue to slack off at work, and maaaybe he likes to sometimes force Atsushi to turn so she can pet him like the giant cat he is out of both their own entertainment, but dying is no longer the priority. It hasn't been for a long time, and he thinks he's doing an okay job... At being a dad, at being a human, at belonging in this world.

When he finally gets in bed with you, he feels whole. He also feels impish when he turns over and whispers.

"Maybe it's time for another, hm?~"

Oops!

[cringefailvox]

guy notorious for violently removing people from his personal space and who blew sir pentious halfway across the city for tearing a tiny scrap from his already tattered coat lets rosie sweep him off his feet and spin him around like a doll. i'm so in love with their dynamic

[guinevereslancelot]

what was with cameron house md she spends 90% of the episode saying she wants their patient to die bc he's a genocidal dictator and her colleague husband says "babe it bothers me for ethical reasons that you want our patient to die :(" and she said "hm maybe you're right :/" but when it comes down to it the genocidal dictator lays a finger on her in an aggressive manner and chase instantly commits medical malpractice to murder the guy and then when he tells her she LEAVES HIM bc boo hoo he's a murderer now like GIRL he killed a man for you!!! he's wracked with catholic guilt!!! he's being crushed beneath the weight of his sins because he chose his devotion to you over his devotion to god!!! he literally could not get any sexier at this moment in time!!!

[autisticaradiamegido]

day 169

this is it, the dynamic