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holdmytesseract · 3 days ago

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One Night or Forever?

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Summary: When one thing leads to another, you and Daryl spend a passionate night together at the CDC. Unfortunately, neither of you is interpreting the signals right afterwards...

Warnings: 18+! MDNI! smut (not entirely graphic, but it's definitely there - like, you know exactly what's going on), uhhh sub and dom Daryl? unprotected rough-ish sex? Daryl gets a bj (yes, you read that right), he's a bit mean, too - but also a cutie patootie, uhh slight angst? bit of drama, alcohol - drunk-ish Daryl and tipsy reader, fluff, swear words, bickering

Set in Season 1!

Word Count: 4,5k

a/n: You want it, you got it, friends. I don't know what this is, though - or which demons possessed me as I wrote it. I really don't. I also don't know how I should feel about it. Embarrassed? Proud? Send help, lol.

Anyways, I hope you like this! Please go easy on me. Smut isn't really my forte...

EoH Masterlist °☆• LITRM Masterlist °☆• Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

"Booyah!"

Daryl's toast had been the starting shot for an evening full of conversation, fun, laughter - and alcohol. Some would say reams of alcohol. Wine, booze, beer - you and the group stopped at nothing. That was probably the reason why everyone staggered somewhere on a scale between tipsy and shit faced drunk at the end of the evening.

You were currently on your way to your personal room - something you'd describe as a luxury. Sure, back at the quarry you had your own tent, but there was a huge difference between that and a whole goddamn room. With a own freaking shower! It was crazy. Who would've thought that something so plain and simple would become such a valued, precious thing? Most likely nobody, because it was something taken for granted.

Well... Not anymore. Not since the world went to shit.

After passing a very drunk Glenn on the way, you more or less stumbled into your room. Tipsy... You were definitely tipsy. Without a single care in the world, you started to shed your clothes the moment the door shut close behind you. All you wanted to do was sleep. You had too much alcohol coursing through your veins to search for something you could use as a pyjama. You hadn't a problem with sleeping naked. Not tonight.

Unfortunately had your plan a catch... One that you weren't aware of yet.

This wasn't your room.

You were just about to free your body of the last piece of fabric you were wearing - a pair of admittedly beautiful dark blue lace panties, when a sudden voice managed to almost send you into cardiac arrest.

"Wha' the fuck 'r ya doin' in my room?!"

You startled so bad, that you almost lost balance and fell flat on your ass. Your balance was a bit off-track anyways, due to the wine...

With wide eyes you turned around to face the intruder.

"Daryl?"

You blinked. "What are you doing here?" He scoffed; his cheeks puffed out and reddened. He had been drinking way more than you did, and it showed. The archer's hands were fumbling clumsily with the fly of his jeans. "Jus' been taken a damn piss, 'n 'm comin' back to find ya standin' in my room." You crossed your arms over your bare - an information which hadn't reached Daryl's brain yet - chest. "This is clearly my room, Dixon." He scoffed again. "'S not!" "Yes, it is!" "'S not!" The man took a few wobbly steps closer. "Go bullshit someone else, I-" He stopped abruptly in the middle of his sentence; eyes widening to the size of plates. Now the information had been received and processed.

"Yer almost naked," he stated; bluntly staring.

Oh, you suddenly realised and remembered as well. He was right.

In any other situation, you'd have frantically tried to cover yourself up and perhaps even threw an insult at the man standing across from you, but the alcohol lowered your boundary of shame and loosened you up; making you see things more relaxed.

You huffed out a breath. "Yeah, no shit, Sherlock." Daryl still blinked and tried very hard to not let his eyes drop, but that was an almost impossible task for the alcoholized man. "Why?" You shrugged your shoulders. "'Cause I wanted to go to sleep." The archer swallowed hard. "In my room? Naked? Ya lost yer damn mind, woman?" "It's my room," your tipsy self was still profoundly convinced, while you made your way over to the bed on slightly wobbly legs. Daryl just watched you; flabbergasted, speechless, shocked - and incredibly turned on. After all, he had a damn pretty woman in his room - no, bed. Half naked!

"You could join me, Dixon." He scoffed again and tried to walk in a straight line over to the armchair; accepting his fate. "In yer damn dreams. 'S ain't gonna help me - or my hard-on." You giggled at his words like a schoolgirl and rolled around in the sheets. "That the reason why you can't get that zipper up? You like me, Daryl? Like what you see?" You pestered him with questions; smirking, and watched his cheeks redden even more - if that was physically possible and your eyes didn't betray you. "Shuddup," Daryl just growled in response. You giggled again, before a long beat of silence passed between the both of you.

The alcohol didn't just lower your boundary of shame... It also caused you to become bolder. "I could help you with that, you know..." You tried to sound as flirty and seductive as possible and turned in the sheets once more, but now to face the man sitting across from the bed. You perched yourself onto your stomach and crossed your ankles in the air; swaying your legs.

Gods, you felt like a teenager again. Damn the alcohol and your crush on the archer. It was a dangerous combination, since you hadn't planned to actually act on said crush. Well, and here you were now in his - nu.uh, your - bed, almost naked and trying to seduce him.

Some might say this escalated quickly...

"Help me with wha'?" The archer finally responded after a long moment; dumbfounded. His usually very smart and witty brain slowed down by the alcohol. You thought for a hot minute that he had already fallen asleep on you. You rolled your eyes and groaned - acting like Daryl just said the stupidest thing in the world. "Your boner," you deadpanned - as if it was the most normal thing to say.

The archer swallowed hard; feeling his chest (and pants) tightening.

"Wha'?" He crooked out. The normally so talkative, glibly redneck seemingly rendered speechless by your boldness.

Once again, you rolled your eyes. "Do you reaaaaally want me to spell it out for you, D?" Daryl clearly needed a moment to recover, but once he did, he scoffed.

"Pf, yer bluffin'."

"I'm not."

"Yeah, ya 'r."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, ya 'r. Can tell. Yer way to innocent fer shit like tha', sunshine."

"Are you challenging me, Dixon?"

"Nah, jus' statin' facts."

Now you were the one who scoffed. He really asked for it, didn't he? You smirked and hid your face in the blanket beneath you. Oh, you were so going to prove him wrong.

You rolled your barely covered body around a third time, but this time to get up from the bed - which was a much more difficult task than expected, but you made it in the end - even though not gracefully and certainly not seductively. "Facts, huh?" You asked the crossbow-wielding archer then with a raised eyebrow and your hands on your hips. He crossed his arms over his plaid beige-brown shirt clad chest; bare forearms and biceps bulging with the movement. "Yes, facts." Although he stared into your eyes with his blue coloured irises, he still had a hard time for them to actually stay on your face.

"Well, you can go screw your opinions - or me. Your choice, pretty boy," you stated and shrugged your shoulders as you bridged the short distance between the bed and the armchair. Before the younger Dixon could even do as much as open his mouth for a snarky respond, you had dropped to your knees in front of him - between his manspread legs.

Daryl's eyes widened and his jaw slacked. "Wha' 'r ya doin'?!" He literally screeched and gripped the armrests of the armchair. "Proofing you wrong, pretty boy." You smiled up at him like a Cheshire cat; hands and fingers clumsily trying to open his jeans. "F-Fuckin' hell, wha'?! Yer insane, woman!" The archer cursed above you, but also didn't make any moves to stop you. So, you took that as a sign to continue. And continuing you did...

It took you a hot minute to get your eye-hand coordination straight and overcome the obstacles which were his jeans and boxers, but once you did, there was no holding back. "Ya really gonna do th- F-Fuck..."

You did.

"Told you, Dixon," you stated with a mischievous glimmer in your eyes; hands firmly cupping him. Daryl answered nothing. The archer had a hard time to control his breathing and rapidly beating heart. He was still gripping the armrests like a vice - his knuckles already turning white. He really couldn't believe this was happening right now. Was he asleep and dreaming? Was he hallucinating? Did the wine manage to fog up his brain so much that his eyes were deceiving him? But when he felt your lips wrap around him, he instantly threw all those thoughts overboard again. This was real. It had to be real. After all, he was feeling it, right?

"F-Fuckin' hell," he cursed again; feeling waves of pleasure crash over him. One of his hands loosened its grip on the armrest and went in your hair instead - tying your loose hair into a makeshift ponytail. You were already too far gone to care; the taste of him addictive.

Working your magic, you tried to grant the man above you as much pleasure as possible - and it seemed to work. Within a few minutes, Daryl was a whimpering mess - a side you'd never thought you were ever going to see of him. Not in your wildest dreams.

"Ain't... Ain't g-gonna last," the archer panted breathlessly; the hand in your hair twitching. You didn't want him to. You wanted him to fall apart. A gentle squeeze of your hand was all it took. "Y-Y/N, damnit, 'm gon'- Gonna cu-" His sentence got interrupted by a low moan that paved its way to the forefront of his lips. The hand in your hair twitched again as he attempted to pull you off him. You didn't let him, though, and easily dodged his lousy attempt. Instead, you helped him ride the wave. His thighs twitched; muscles tensing as his high crashed into him. Daryl felt like he had been hit by an eighteen-wheeler - but in the best way possible. It had been so long...

The gentle grip he had of your hair slackened; hand falling limply to his side. You lifted your head to look at him to witness his blissed-out state. Daryl's eyes were closed, and his breathing laboured. You smiled; hands gently caressing his clothed thighs. "You believe me now, D?" He gave you a mere nod. Clearly he needed another few moments to get his head straight again. Your smile never ceased as you kept up your fingers movements. Your knees protested by now, but you didn't care.

Another few moments passed, before the archer peeled his eyes open again. Seeing you still on your knees for him managed to send another shockwave of arousal throughout his entire body.

Wide-blown eyes stared at you intensely; the gears turning in his fogged up head.

"T-Thanks, I guess," he whispered then. His voice was still hoarse. You smiled up at him. "You're welcome, pretty boy. Said I'm gonna help you." Daryl nodded almost shyly and clumsily stuffed himself back inside his boxers. You eyed him thoroughly and started to giggle. "Didn't think you'd loose it so fast. Wouldn't have pecked you to be a... premature guy." Not that it mattered to you, but you couldn't help yourself but to tease him a bit. It was meant to be a playful comment, but you seemed to hit a sore spot...

You could practically see how his eyes darkened, before he narrowed them. "Whatcha say, huh?" He asked in a gruff voice and stood up; towering over you. You blinked - were a bit taken aback by the sudden shift in his demeanour. "I-I, uh... Said I didn't think you'd be one t-to, uh, come too early..." The archer growled under his breath. "Ya better watch yer mouth, sunshine," he said in a threatening tone and grabbed your arms to pull you up on your feet. Daryl quickly noticed, though, that his legs were even more wobbly now that they've already been before; forcing him to take cautious steps. "What are we doing, pretty boy? You gonna make me pay for saying that?" You gave another sassy remark; provoking him and tickling his nerve ends even further. A grunt passed his chapped lips as he dragged you with him. Once close to the bed, he wrapped his arms firmly around your bare midsection and literally threw you onto the bed - wobbly legs be damned. You giggled at his eagerness and slid upwards to rest your head on one of the pillows; giving the man a confident look. "C'mon then, pretty boy, show me what you got. I know you want to." He scoffed and crawled on the bed. "Pretty boy my ass." You just giggled again. You felt intoxicated by the wine you had consumed and definitely aroused - which got only worse when you felt calloused, deft hands gripping your delicate skin. Daryl parted your legs and settled on his knees between them. His eyes were directed on your face. He looked like a predator - ready to attack his prey. It was incredibly hot.

"'M gonna shut tha' sassy mouth 'a yers, just ya wait," he growled in a deep voice, and wrapped his arms and hands around your thighs like a snake - holding them firmly and simultaneously keeping you splayed open for him, before he literally yanked you down; bringing your hips closer to his.

Your breath hitched in your throat at his sudden movement and the upcoming anticipation.

His fingertips danced over the skin on your hips then - and suddenly got your dark blue lace panties ripped into shreds.

"Daryl!" You shrieked, then gasped. "Those were my favourites, I-" "'S jus' a damn piece 'a fabric. Dun be such a crybaby," he interrupted you; instantly putting you in your place. Your mouth clapped shut. This was yet another new side of him. Sure, you knew he was hotheaded, but he literally just went from kinda submissive to dominant within the blink of an eye. Was it the alcohol? Or truly his temper?

The clinking of his belt ripped you out of your thoughts. Some shuffling and the rustling of fabric was the only premonition you got, before you felt him against your hot and pulsating center. Your hips instantly bucked; trying to get closer.

More friction.

More pleasure.

More of Daryl.

The archer hovering above you scoffed. "Look how needy ya are. Dun even hafta prepare ya." You could see the corners of his mouth twitching into a small smirk. "Tis all jus' from gettin' me off, huh?" You nodded and bit your lip. Daryl on the contrary shook his head, "Yer tha' desperate? Pf... Pathetic." and lined himself up, before hitting home.

Stars exploded in front of your eyes as his hips met yours. The most sinful moan the archer had ever heard in his life slipped past your lips; only spurring him on more. He picked up a firm, steady pace - leaving you a mess beneath him barely within a few minutes. Just what you did to him.

Revenge was sweet, wasn't it?

His precise, powerful thrusts carried you from one high to the next - and Daryl enjoyed it. He loved to see you fall apart beneath him. And this time, he was the one lasting longer. "Who's commin' too soon now, huh? 'S not me, sunshine. Told ya I'd shut tha' sassy mouth 'a yers," he growled lowly; slowing his pace to just give you a few moments of recovery. You moaned at the sheer endless pleasure he granted you. Your hands gripped his thick arms like a vice after he had planted both palms firmly in the mattress beside your head to gain more leverage. "F-Fuck, Daryl," you whimpered; fingernails digging into his sweaty biceps. "I know. Jus' one more, 'kay? Can ya give me one more?" You nodded wordlessly. "Good girl," the archer praised and picked up his speed once again; pulling another sweet moan alongside some incoherent noises from you.

Your hands travelled. They left his arms to rest on his chest, where they fisted the fabric of his plaid shirt with the ripped off sleeves. The fabric held a darkened stain - a puddle of sweat formed on his chest.

Your hands continued to fist his shirt, as you pulled - an attempt to undo a few buttons. But once the archer noticed what your mission was, he stopped dead in his movements. "Nah, dun do tha'," he scolded you instantly and peeled your hands away from the fabric covering his upper body. "W-Why?" You asked breathlessly; not understanding his sudden mood shift. "'"Cause I told ya to!" He snapped.

Just in that moment, you realised that you must've hit another sore spot... But this time one that actually seemed to get to him. Not one that managed to turn him on.

"S-Sorry, D-Daryl, I-" You immediately apologised, but got interrupted once more. "Keep holdin' on ta my arms, if yer need sum'thin' to hold on to." His voice was gruff, but way more soft than a few moments ago. The archer redirected your hands and placed them once more around his sweaty biceps. Without another word, he continued where he left off, causing your grip to instantly tighten. "There ya go," he praised you again and readjusted your legs with his thighs. Just the slight change of angle was enough to send you a third time over the edge. This time, though, you dragged him right with you.

A broken sound - close to a cry, left the man's lips as he pulled out and coated the supple skin of your stomach with his release. A single droplet of sweat rolled down his neck as he threw his head back in ecstasy. It was a sight to behold. A sight you might never forget for the rest of your life - no matter how long your life was going to be.

A few moments later collapsed Daryl on the mattress beside you. He was clearly spent. Perhaps this had been something you both needed. Who knew?

"Imma take a shower," the archer announced after a while and left the bed - but not before gentleman-like wiping the mess he made on your stomach away with his hand. Without another word, he left, while you just laid there - still naked and staring at the ceiling; recalling in your mind what just happened. The sex managed to sober you up a bit. Did that really just happen? Had you been dreaming this?

You heard the water run, but not how Daryl returned to the room and settled down for the night in the armchair. You had ventured off to dreamland at some point.

To say the next morning was awkward was an absolute understatement. Awkward was not even remotely enough to describe the vibe between the both of you.

When you woke up again, the archer was nowhere to be seen. Now sober, you left the bed, picked up your clothes, noticed that you truly were - in fact in his room, and tiptoed butt naked down the hallway into your room. Luckily nobody had seen you. That would've been scandalous, right?

Your luck was also that everybody was quite hungover from last night. Some more, some less. Therefore noticed nobody the way you and Daryl acted around each other.

You could barely manage to look into his eyes.

You felt ashamed; thinking that you pushed him too far yesterday night. Thinking, that you were too bold and unable to control your damn feelings. Thinking that you pushed him away, instead of drawing him in. You anticipated that the archer must hate you now - and you couldn't even blame him...

Nevertheless seemed a conversation inevitable. You didn't want to destroy the friendship - if you could even call it that - the both of you had before last night.

It took you days to bite the bullet and ask him to talk, though. Sure, you had been on the road again since the CDC was a dead end, but that wasn't an excuse in your eyes.

"D-Daryl?" You approached him cautiously as you found him alone in the stables of the Greene farm; saddling a horse to go looking for Sophia. "Whatcha want?" He asked you and gave you a short look. You swallowed nervously. "Can we, uh, can we talk?" "'Bout wha'?" You watched him work for a moment, while your fingers fumbled with the hem of your t-shirt; trying to gather all the courage you could find. "That, uh, night at the CDC..." Your words came out as a whisper, but Daryl heard them nonetheless - and froze in all his tracks.

"Why'd ya wanna talk 'bout tha'?" He asked nonchalantly after a beat of silence and continued his work; had seemingly shaken off the small 'shock' quite quick. "I-I..." You started and sighed. "Things f-feel so weird between us since that n-night, and... I don't want that. I-I'm sorry for what I did. I'm s-sorry for making you sleep with me." Your eyes were stuck on him. You watched him and tried to gauge his reaction - afraid of what was going to happen.

"Yer sorry 'bout it?" Daryl asked then - almost in disbelief. Then he scoffed. "Do ya regret it?"

That was a question you didn't see coming. A question you haven't thought about yet. Did you regret it? Your memories took you back in time; letting you relive that night you shared with him. The answer was clear - as you quickly discovered.

"No, I don't, but... It was wrong. I shouldn't have-" "Wrong?" He interrupted you. His voice appalled. "Tha's what ya think 'bout this? 'Bout... us?" Daryl accused you with a grimace on his face. Was that... sadness you could detect in his blue orbs? Hurt?

You blinked; "U-Us?" were definitely confused by his words. "W-What do you mean 'us'?" "Ya know wha' I mean, Y/N." You shook your head. "No, Daryl. No, I don't. We've been practically ignoring each other since the CDC. We can't even talk properly! Neither of us can look into the other's eyes! Everything is just... weird, and you talk about an 'us'? No, I don't get it. Tell me. Explain it."

A frustrated huff left the archer's lips, before he started to gnaw at the pad of his thumb; averting your eyes. All of a sudden, the usually so confident redneck became all shy and insecure. "Dunno how," he started; merely shrugging his shoulders. "'S difficult, 'n I ain't good with words." "Try it, D," you encouraged him and gave him a soft smile. "Please. I want to make things right between us again." The archer nodded and took another moment - most likely to gather his thoughts. "'S tha' feeling, ya know? Can't pin it down. Always feelin' so strange whenever yer close to me."

Your heart skipped more than just one beat as his words urged to your ears. Could it be...? No...

"W-What do you feel? Can you... describe it?" Daryl lowered his gaze to the ground. The little stone laying beside his left foot suddenly became really interesting. "Jus' strange. Gets harder to breathe, 'n... My stomach's all messed up. Feels like an itch I can't scratch." You couldn't believe this was happening. Did that night cause Daryl to fall in love with you? "You're doing good, D. Keep going. What else?" You had to know.

He grunted; his foot playing with that little stone, before kicking it aimlessly over the concrete ground. "I... always go back to tha' night in my head. Can't forget it. Yer look. Yer touch. The way ya felt, I-" He stopped himself to take a deep breath. And you smiled. Perhaps having slept with him hadn't been a mistake. Perhaps you interpreted his behaviour wrong. Perhaps you just misread the signs...

"I jus' dunno how to act 'round ya. I dunno wha's happening to me. Tha's why I ain't talkin' to ya. Didn't mean to ignore ya..." Daryl apologised with his head still lowered.

You stepped closer to him and cautiously reached for his hand. He flinched, but didn't pull away. "Daryl, I... I think I know what happened to you," you whispered. "'N wha's tha'?" He asked; finally brave enough to lift his head to look into your eyes. You smiled and squeezed his hand. "I think you... are in love."

As quick as the man had lowered his guard, as quick was it up again.

He pulled his hand out of your grasp and scoffed, before he took a few steps back. "Pf. Love? Me? Tha's ridiculous, woman - 'n we both know it!" "Is it, yeah? You really think so?" "Yes!" He yelled, and wanted to rush past you - but you stopped him with your palm splayed on his chest. You didn't know if what your heart made you do was a wise decision, but it acted on its own will. Your head was powerless anyway.

Daryl's eyes travelled from yours to the hand on his chest and back. "Whatcha doin', woman?! Leave me the hell alo-" You had heard enough. You had held yourself back long enough. This was the only option you had left. It was do or die.

You cut the man off with standing on your tiptoes and connecting your lips to his. It was a chaste, gentle kiss - but nonetheless meaningful. It felt so right. So good. His lips so soft and warm - compared to his seemingly rough exterior. His blond-brown goatee tickled your skin in the best way possible.

Once more, Daryl froze to the ground; not moving a muscle.

When your lips left his again with a soft pop and you reopened your eyes, you could see how his eyelids fluttered slowly open as well. You could feel his heart galloping underneath your palm. "What do you feel now, Daryl?" You asked in a hushed tone. Your eyes never left his. The archer swallowed hard. His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat. "I-I-I..." He stammered out; his cheeks heating up. "G-Good," he croaked out. "R-Real good." You smiled - happy that your heart had made the right decision. "Wanna do it again?" He blinked. The tips of his ears got red as well. "I-If yer willin' t-to k-kiss me again?" Your smile even widened, before you reached up to cup his beardy, red cheeks in your palms to pull him into another kiss. Daryl gasped against your lips; eyes falling shut and lips following your lead. It caused the kiss to get more intimate. More demanding. More passionate.

His hands acted on their own will, as they settled on your waist and pulled you closer. Your body crashed against his. You could tell that he hadn't kissed a lot in his life; his movements clumsy and messy - but perfectly Daryl. And you loved it. You didn't care how experienced or skilled he was. All you cared about was him - and all the love he deserved you wanted to give him.

He was far from perfect; had his flaws - but so were you.

"What do you say now about love, pretty boy?" You asked in a playful, yet loving manner; your hands crossed behind his neck. Daryl's hands gently squeezed your sides, "Shuddup." before he dipped his head to indulge you into yet another kiss.

Yeah... He was definitely whipped.

Tags: @angelwings-crossbowstrings @belitoxx @fictive-sl0th @marvelcasey05 @loz-3 @whore4romance @stitchintimefan @bigbaldheadname @making-the-most-0f-it @erebus-et-eigengrau @km-ffluv @0-aubrie0 @sweetz1919 @mikaela-granger @secretsicanthideanymore @dilfdixon @txtttttttttttttt @dixons-sunshine @cakesandtom @mayday2007 @dixonsdarkelf @huntedmusicgardenn @ffsjustletmesleep

405 notes · View notes

hyperfashionist · 16 hours ago

Note

Yes, a herbal tea is an example of a herbal treatment. That’s nothing to do with homoeopathy.

Furthermore, herbal remedies very much can work. Parsley for example is known to be an effective diuretic. The hyperfashionmum needed diuretics to treat her chronic condition but at the same time, she couldn’t tolerate prescribed diuretics. She did however find that eating parsley helped. I got militant about giving her parsley tea with two tablespoons of dried parsley each day. When I got lax about measuring, her symptoms got worse. Then I realized my mistake, corrected it, and her symptoms reversed again.

Of course all herbal remedies won’t work for everyone at all times etc etc and some are no doubt harmful. We got to a point of (inevitable) disease progression where parsley tea wasn’t enough, and the hyperfashionmum had to go on prescribed diuretics. But the parsley did do the job for several years.

Furthermore! For years upon years I thought my PMS headaches were migraines, because they were on one side. There was that one time I tried Aquaban (an OTC diuretic) because I *was* visibly retaining water. But it made me feel like I’d been run over by a truck and did nothing for my headache. The only thing that helped was Anadin Extra, plus white tiger balm. I would take the full daily dose for days on end. Finally I realized my headaches were getting more and more prolonged. And that Anadin Extra makes me swell up and retain water. And that these two facts were not unconnected. At that point I made some parsley tea for myself and hey presto - no more headache. I was reduced to ONE dose of Anadin Extra on ONE day.

Anyway - parsley is a herbal remedy, and it’s really good. You can’t use herbal remedies for everything, and many remain unproven and/or unsafe, BUT they have their place. And they definitely aren’t homoeopathy. Homoeopathy is just a whole lot of nothing, and is no good for treating anything.

(I am not an expert nor qualified to express an opinion about any of this, just to be clear.)

Oh and also: vaccines are like if, not the villain, but the villain’s weedy second cousin, walked into a saloon. And everybody in the saloon turned and fixed their gaze on him, then beat the heck out of him and threw him out, yelling “and STAY out!!!!”

Then the actual villain shows up, walks in ready to shoot up the saloon, but everyone looks at the villain and they look at the “WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE” poster, and they’re quicker on the draw and they fill the villain full of lead and they collect the $10,000 reward. That is your immune system.

With homeopathy, it’s more like the villain is in the saloon already, and then nobody walks in and nothing happens and the villain shoots up the saloon without let or hindrance.

I understand that vaccines are proven to work and are a great advancement in our medicine, and also that homeopathic remedies don't work, but don't they work on the same principal? Why does one work and the other doesnt?

They do not work on the same principle.

I can see how vaccines look like a "like treats like" situation, but in homeopathy "like treats like" is a kind of magical thinking.

Let's take an example from Chicken Pox, a virus for which there is an effective vaccine and for which there is a common homeopathic treatment.

Chicken pox infects people once, and it is extremely rare to get a second case because once you have had it, your body forms persistent antibodies against the varicella-zoster virus. When I was a kid, they didn't have a vaccine for this, so kids mostly got chicken pox once and it ran around whole schools and that was it. It's a virus that is fairly minor in children, though it can cause dangerously high fevers. Adults who get chicken pox typically get much sicker than children who get it, and it can lead to permanent harms like infertility in adults who get it. Because it can be so dangerous, we don't want people to risk getting it, so we vaccinate.

The way the vaccine works is that it takes a weakened form of the virus and introduces that into the body of a person with a healthy immune system. The immune system responds and the person who got the vaccine may get some minor symptoms, like a headache or a slight fever, but it will be nowhere near as severe as getting actual chicken pox would be. Because the immune system was exposed to the virus and responded, it now has antibodies against the virus that recognize the virus and respond immediately before it can start replicating in the body. If a person who has either previously had chicken pox or who has been vaccinated against it is exposed to the chicken pox virus, their body uses those antibodies to react to the virus and protect against a systemic infection.

Are you familiar with Star Trek? It's kind of like the Borg. You can't use the same attack pattern against the Borg multiple times because if you do, they'll recognize the pattern and will be able to defend against it. The virus is the attacker, and your immune system is the Borg. It knows what it's looking for and won't let anything get through its defenses.

Homeopathic remedies don't seek to prevent illness or provoke an immune response, they seek to cancel out something that is happening in the body.

For chicken pox, which produces itchy red bumps, homeopaths use Rhus Tox - a dilution of poison ivy, a plant that causes itchy red bumps if you encounter it in nature. The Rhus Tox didn't cause the chicken pox, it's not given to prevent the virus, it's from a plant that is completely unrelated to the virus that happens to produce some of the same symptoms as the virus when you touch it.

They don't even think that the Rhus Tox will provoke an immune response from your body like actually touching poison ivy would, they're attempting to use an unrelated compound (that is so diluted that it isn't even present in the preparation) in place of your immune system to attack the itchy red bumps.

So I'm going to go over this in a few brief points:

Vaccines are preventative ONLY, they are not a treatment for illness or symptoms of an illness

Vaccines work by introducing your immune system to a partial, weakened, or dead virus so that your immune system can form antibodies against that virus and prevent that virus from replicating in your body when it is later exposed to a whole/strong/live virus.

Different vaccines have different levels of effectiveness and produce different lengths of immunity; this is for a number of reasons, but if you get a measles shot as a kid you may only ever need one booster, while you need a flu shot every year and a tetanus shot every decade. All of them work the same way, though: they show your immune system what a virus looks like so that your immune system can kill the virus.

That is why immune compromised people sometimes can't be vaccinated, or why vaccines don't work as well for them or may need higher doses or more boosters. Because they don't have a healthy immune system, weakened viruses like the ones in the chickenpox virus might be too strong for their immune system to fight, and even if it doesn't get them sick, their bodies may not be able to produce enough effective antibodies to protect them from the virus in the future. That's part of why it's important for as many people to be vaccinated as possible; the more people who are vaccinated, the harder it is for viruses to spread, and vulnerable people like immune compromised people or babies too young for vaccination won't be exposed to deadly viruses.

Homeopathy, on the other hand, aims to treat symptoms of an illness that a person is already experiencing.

Homeopathic treatments do not aim to provoke an immune response, they aim to cancel out a symptom with a cure.

Dilution is a very important part of homeopathy, with homeopaths claiming that the more diluted a preparation is the stronger it is. This is simply incorrect; I don't know how to make a more logical explanation of that, it is just wrong that less of a substance causes more of a response.

Homeopathy says "like treats like" and that may seem like using a vaccine with a weak virus to prevent infection from a strong virus, but their version of "like" is different - Rhus Tox (poison ivy) is supposed to be "like" chicken pox because both cause itching. Rhus tox is also supposed to treat PCOS, erectile dysfunction, uterine prolapse, sunken eyes, nausea, and backache. "Like" can have an extremely broad meaning in homeopathy, which should be cause for suspicion.

Here's a paper that compared the immune response of college students given homeopathic "vaccines" against a control group and against a group of students who were given standard medical vaccines. The control group and the homeopathic group both did not have an immune response in titer tests, while the vaccination group did have an immune response, demonstrating that they had protection from the vaccinated viruses. It's a pretty good demonstration both of how effective homeopathy is (not at all) as well as how to set up a fair and ethical study to look at the effectiveness of different kinds of treatments.

#quackery #homoeopathy #herbal remedies

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starglitterz · 3 days ago

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♡ YOU KNOW YOU LOVE ME!

what was meant to be a simple heist goes awry when you're interrupted by a shockingly cute security guard & a couple of rival art thieves. did you mention that one of them is kind of your ex?

✧ feat ; ayato, childe, diluc, scaramouche x gn!reader (3.6k words)

✧ warnings ; highly suggestive, thief + cop au, robbery, weapons, reader is a tease, one (1) ginger insult, reader loves bullying men (as they should)

✧ a/n ; be gay do crime that's all i have to say! jk HJSDSJD this has been rotting in my drafts for almost THREE years. i reread it and the writing style was so unserious that i suddenly got motivated to continue it and then i finished it in a night. Yeah. anyways this is my #grandcomeback and also first post of 2025! i really hope you all enjoy this :> if it flops i will cry myself to sleep /j btw this was proofread by the loml @musings-of-miss-j who has a SUPERB harbingers series that u should totally check out 🙂‍↕️😋

please reblog with comments ! it helps a lot :)

"hey! you there!" a baritone voice behind you yells, shattering the midnight peace of the museum and jolting you out of your reverie. tightening your grip around the gleaming purple gnosis you came here for, you slip it into your pocket quickly before turning around with a smile that would assure anybody of your innocence. "who? little old me?" you bat your eyes, blinking slowly at the man. your eyes have long adjusted to the darkness, so even with his similarly coloured outfit you're able to pick out the faded gold badge at his chest reading 'diluc'. "what are you doing back here?" his tone doesn't change in the slightest as he flicks his flashlight over to you, the beam practically blinding against the dark surroundings.

"it appears that i've gotten lost," you laugh awkwardly, doing your best to feign being a naive tourist, "i was told that there were late tours offered at the teyvat museum." diluc still looks exceedingly suspicious, and as his gaze travels behind you your mind snaps into overdrive so he doesn't notice the missing artifact. suddenly bursting into tears, you run forward and bury your face in his shirt, "i! was! so! scared!" you punctuate each word with an even louder wail and he freezes beneath you, the close contact entirely unexpected. "there, there…" he pats your back with the enthusiasm and warmth of a polar ice cap, and with your face hidden in the fabric you permit yourself a triumphant smile - you've managed to divert his attention for now, at least.

"i am so terribly sorry about this," you begin to apologise profusely before looking up at him with teary eyes, "but would you mind walking me to the exit? i'm afraid i'll get lost again." at his hesitant expression you sniffle loudly, exaggerating it as much as possible until he caves, "fine. but stay close, there's been rumours floating around about artifact thieves lately." when he starts marching away, you hurry to catch up and ask curiously as if you aren't one of them, "artifact thieves?!" "yes. the type to steal priceless elements of history and sell them on the black market," he spits with disgust in his eyes. "oh, how terrible! i can't understand why anyone would do that instead of leaving them here for the public to enjoy," you gush, "surely there are other ways to make money."

yeah, you could become an art thief instead. not that you haven't tried that; you just found it too tedious to craft a believable enough fake and ensure the painting wasn't damaged while sneaking it out. diluc doesn't deign to reply besides a single nod of his head, and you try to start up another conversation, "i suppose you're not the type to befriend random visitors, huh?" the corner of his lips tug up into a barely perceptible smile, "only the ones who appear after closing hours." "can't you make an exception for me?" you wink, though you doubt he can even see it through the darkness blanketing the museum. "hmph," is the only answer you receive, and your chit-chat ends with a dramatic sigh from your end.

to be frank, you couldn't care less whether this ‘diluc’ likes you or not. it's just in your best interests for him to remember you as some flirty ditz who'd leave their head at home if it wasn't screwed on and not a calculating, manipulative burglar. this heist is one to remember for sure though, you don't think you've ever escaped with the goods in your pocket while talking to the security guard on duty. you've knocked them out beforehand and slept with them after, but never during the job, so tonight marks a first for you.

through your eyelashes, you glance at diluc, absorbing every detail about him in a split second; it's a trick you've learned from years of living on the street where figuring out who's going to hurt you and who won't is crucial for survival. he's pretty enough that you wouldn't mind spending the night with him, with fiery red locks tied neatly into a high ponytail and crimson eyes which sparkle like rubies. perhaps you could make this a double heist and steal his heart too!

your train of thought is interrupted as diluc comes to a halt without warning and you bump into his back (which you note is surprisingly toned). "what-" you start to complain, but he holds a hand up which silences you immediately. "i heard something," he whispers, practically inaudible, and you instantly start to babble, "what?! are they artifact thieves?! are we going to die?!" diluc groans before grabbing you and hiding behind a wall, pulling you flush against his torso as one of his gloved hands covers your mouth, "shut up."

now this is close contact; you can feel the quick rise and fall of his chest, his racing heartbeat, and his every muscle tensing in preparation for a fight. if you weren't so preoccupied with the fact that this is delaying your getaway, you'd probably make a stupid quip. actually scratch that, you're going to do it anyway, "at least take me on a date first," you mumble as you shrug away his hand, and he looks at you with the most disbelieving expression, "you can still make idiotic comments in a situation like this? you've either got nerves of steel or you're a total dumbass." "depends on your type," you smile, and he drags a palm down his face exasperatedly, "i- you know what, never mind."

"ow!" "shut the fuck up, idiot. it's bad enough that i had to get paired with you, but if you get us caught i'm going to kill you." "rude. you could just ask nicely." "i have no interest in talking to you." "yet here we are." "can you seriously keep quiet? i'm telling the tsaritsa never to put me in a team with you again." "aw, stop, you'll hurt my feelings." "do you even have any of those left?" "hey! i'll have you know i am a very emotional person." "that's like me saying i'm an upstanding member of society."

you freeze in diluc's arms, running through every curse word in every language you know in your mind. you'd recognise those two voices anywhere. out of all the nights the fatui could have been planning a robbery, it had to be tonight?! archons, your luck is awful. "okay, this has been fun and all, but i've got to go," you start wriggling out of his embrace, planning to smash a window and escape because you'd honestly risk getting caught by the cops instead of the fatui. "what?! are you insane?! there are obviously two robbers there," diluc whisper-shouts, brows furrowing in a peculiar mix of confusion and worry. "and i'd prefer not to die, so i'm going to leave before they come here!" you retort, continuing to slide out of his arms. however, he doesn't relax his grip and you roll your eyes before elbowing him in the stomach. the sudden attack surprises him and he lets go with a groan, which is more than enough time for you to make a break for it.

unfortunately, diluc delayed you long enough that you end up running right into the two fatui members' line of vision. "wait, who are you?!" one of them asks, and the other one continues, "turn around, or i'll shoot you right now." fuck, is all you can think as you slowly rotate to face them with a sheepish smile, perhaps they wouldn't recognise you. "hey, aren't you y/n?!" well, there goes that plan. "no…? who's that?" "nah, you definitely are," the ginger walks towards you slowly before tilting your chin up to face him with his index finger. the game's up, so you sigh, "hey, childe... it's been a while."

"i knew it was you! i'd know that pretty face of yours anywhere," he beams gleefully, and you smirk, "you still find me pretty? never knew you had a thing for criminals." "i do, it's my fatal flaw," he frowns before continuing, "except when they steal my money, in which case they become my enemies instead." double fuck. he still remembers that. "it wasn't that much! just about ten million mora or so, i know you've got tons left where that came from," you hurry to defend yourself. "that's not the point! the point is that you stole my money after i oh-so-kindly let you stay in my house!" childe says, and you're not taking this one lying down, "liar! you invited me over after you saw me at the bar!"

"can you both shut up? i'm losing braincells just listening to this shit," scaramouche cuts in, rolling his eyes so far back you swear they're going to get stuck that way. "really? because when you opened your mouth i think my iq just dropped by 10 points," you retort. scaramouche gapes at you for a second, clearly not used to someone talking back to him. "take a picture, it'll last longer," you wink, feeling the situation slide itself back into your grasp once more; you aren't planning on going down without a fight. "i don't have a kamera, and anyway who wants photos of dead people?" he fumbles for a reply and childe snickers, "cat got your tongue, scara?" "more like y/n's got your wallet," the balladeer jabs back, a smug grin curving his lips at the witty reply. childe's eyes widen at the insult, "hey! i'll have you know that i gave it to them willingly-"

taking advantage of the argument between the two of them, you unhook a rope from your waist and toss it up to the skylight. you're in the common center area of the museum, which has a square gap up to the roof and offers you a perfect shot for your hook to sail upwards and catch at the ledge. the instant you press a button the cord retracts, pulling you up with it. "and now y/n's getting away! so long, suckers!" you cheer as you zip upwards. "isn't that my line?!" you hear scaramouche yell as they scramble to find a way after you. seconds before you slam into the window like an unfortunate bug, you pull out a gun and shoot the glass, watching with glee as a spiderweb of cracks forms across it. thanks to the momentum of you gliding through the air, your boots easily smash through it when you kick harshly as you reach it, and you land with a loud thud on the roof. "ouch," you groan, "that's going to leave a bruise tomorrow." glancing at your surroundings, you inhale the fresh night air stained with the smog from all the polluting factories and listen to the buzz of the highways, busy even past midnight, "nothing like the city."

just then, you hear a thump behind you, and then a deep voice that sounds strangely familiar, "you'll be admiring it from a prison window after this." you spin around sharply, and the sight nearly makes you fall off the edge of the building with surprise, "diluc?!" at this, he freezes, and it's evident that he thought his disguise would be more than enough to conceal his identity. with a cough, he says, "no, i'm the darknight hero." "no, you're clearly diluc. i just met you like fifteen minutes ago and even i can recognise your hair in that stupid suit, it practically glows," you fold your arms over your chest, making idle conversation while your mind races to come up with an idea to save yourself. "my suit isn't stupid," diluc can't stop himself from defending his outfit, just because he had barely any sewing skills did not give you the right to insult the piece of clothing. "it's literally a mask and a black coat."

"back to the matter at hand," diluc- sorry, the darknight hero, clears his throat loudly, clearly eager to change the topic, "you're under arrest." "oh yeah? since when are you a cop?" "i'm not." "then you obviously don't have the power to arrest me, idiot." smarting from yet another insult, diluc tries his best to maintain his composure, "i meant that i'm going to take you in to the police station and then you'll be under arrest." "should have just said that," you shrug, and you can almost see diluc fighting to rein his temper in - this is too easy.

"okay, well, this actually hasn't been fun at all, so i'm leaving," you turn around again and stroll away, hoping that there'll be a ladder on the edge of the roof. you don't really see a diluc as a threat, because to be honest he seems more like a kid playing dress-up. what kind of self-respecting adult who cared as much for the law as he did would choose to be a vigilante? maybe if he got a better costume you could take him seriously. and that turned out to be a huge mistake on your part, because the next moment, a lasso whizzes through the air and loops around your ankles, quickly pulling into a deadknot that would take you ages to untie.

you want to throw a tantrum, crying and stomping your feet at diluc, but what good would that do when this issue sprung from your own cockiness? "listen, how much do you want? i'll give it to you, any amount. i know how much security guards make, and trust me, it'll be nothing compared to what i could give you," the words spill out of your mouth in a jumble, and you seem to take on the role of a confident salesman selling a product you know is worthless. it's embarrassing how much this sounds like a plea. "i don't want money. i want the streets and artifacts of teyvat to be safe from people like you," diluc ignores your further attempts at bribing him, although he does give you a strange look when you offer up a kiss, as if he's genuinely considering it. does this man actually get no bitches?

“ah, a kiss, hm? is that what you want?” you lean forward almost desperately, grinning at him like a maniac, “c’mon, mr darknight hero! i promise i’m a really good kisser~” you lick your lips as if to prove your point, and your smirk deepens when his ruby gaze follows the motion. “just give me a second to touch up my lipstick, ‘kay?” while he’s still stunned from your offer, you fumble in your pocket and pull out a taser. diluc only snaps back into action when he sees the weapon clutched in your hands, and though he dodges, you manage to stumble forward without your bound ankles and ram the buzzing probes into his chest.

a strange noise, a mixture of a whimper and a groan escapes his throat as he falls to his knees in front of you, body twitching like a dying bug. rummaging in his pockets, you find a knife and giggle as you slice through the ties on your legs, “see? this is why it’s always great to have men on their knees for you. i forgot my knife today, so i hope you’ll be okay with me borrowing this.” as he glares at you through blurry vision, a mockingly pitiful smile curves your lips and you pat his head like you’re petting an overzealous guard dog, “now be a good boy and stay here, okay, diluc? ah, sorry, i mean mr darknight hero!” dipping your head, you press a fleeting kiss to his cheek, relishing in his flustered gasp, “i’ll give you a proper kiss next time~” you burst into laughter and skip off, leaving him tied up and blushing with the same restraints he had used on you.

“why is this stupid place so big?!” you mutter to yourself as you whiz across the rooftop. the museum is under renovation, so a lot of the walls of the rear wing are covered in scaffolding and tarp that only serve to slow you down as you try to escape. you’re seriously regretting being a cheapskate earlier and not parking at the official parking lot, instead you had hid your getaway car almost a kilometre away from the location just to avoid a parking fee. don’t judge! things like this are how rich people stay rich. but just as you’re skidding across the glass-roofed observatory, you hear a familiar voice behind you.

“not so fast, thief.”

you groan as exaggeratedly as you can, making a big show of how troublesome it is for you to turn around, “hello again, childe. hat guy.” “my name is scaramouche!” he seethes, scowling at you with a glare furious enough to thaw antarctica. “listen, y/n,” childe steps forward, raising both hands in magnanimous surrender, “let’s make a deal.” “not interested.” you stick your tongue out, slowly backing away. childe continues as if he didn’t hear you, but the twitch in his brow is enough to give away his act, “you give us the gnosis, and i’ll forget all about the money you owe me.” “i don’t owe you, genius,” you scoff, “i stole it. i’m obviously not going to repay it.” “you really are an idiot,” scaramouche massages his temples, looking for all the world like he’d rather be anywhere else on earth than here at this moment.

“well!” childe puffs himself up, pretending that his ego isn’t hurt, “i thought you and i had chemistry, y’know? we could hang out again if you just give me the gnosis.” his voice drops an octave lower to emphasise his last few words, and you feel a familiar shiver up your spine. “childe, we slept together once, and sleeping with a ginger was not one of my proudest moments,” you retort, though you feel a twinge of guilt as childe fusses with his hair, “hey! uncalled for!” to be honest, he’s not wrong. the two of you did have chemistry, and the night you spent together was… well, let’s just say you could barely walk the next day. but dating isn’t your style, especially not when it’s someone who belongs to a rival group in the world of art theft. you prefer one night stands – it’s easier to keep things simple with no strings attached.

“just give us the gnosis, and we won’t kill you. is that a better deal?” scaramouche interrupts, evidently tired of childe beating around the bush. “scara! i was this close to getting them to crack!” childe pouts, and scaramouche rolls his eyes heavenward – if there was ever a time for him to believe in the gods, it would be now as he prays for mercy from his partner’s stupidity. “you’re cracked in the head if you think so,” scaramouche drags a palm down his face and sighs, “you only think with your dick.” “what?!” childe’s aghast at this accusation, “that’s not true!” “i think it is.” you helpfully supply, and that draws both men’s attention back to you.

“whatever! just hand us the gnosis, and things won’t get messy.” childe withdraws his blades, and you realise he’s finally getting serious. scaramouche steps closer as well, and you can’t move backwards anymore, you’re already teetering on the ledge. a fall from this height definitely wouldn’t leave you in the best condition. it’s too early for you to die, you haven’t even seen your favourite artist live yet! “fine. you want it?” you pull the gnosis out from your pocket and a wicked smirk graces your features, “then come and get it~!” you toss the item up in the air, letting the way it sparkles in the moonlight speak for itself as you lean backwards and salute, “see you on the other side, losers!”

with that, you fall off the roof while scaramouche and childe fumble to catch the gnosis.

“hey! that dumbass!” childe rushes to the edge to check on you, only to realise that… you aren’t there?! contrary to what he expected, your bloody corpse isn’t lying there. you’re climbing down the scaffolding like a monkey, weaving in and out of the metal bars until you reach the ground. looking back up at him, childe thinks he can make out a final playful wink before you hop into a black car that’s just pulled up at the back. behind him, scaramouche yells, “childe!” “what is it now, balladeer- what?!” the gnosis is shattered on the stone roof, shards of purple and silver gleaming in a manner that almost seems taunting. “it was a fucking fake!” scaramouche yells, kicking the broken pieces furiously, and childe can’t stop the lovestruck expression that plays across his face, “y/n really is a master thief…” “snap out of it, idiot! what are we going to tell the boss?!”

meanwhile, you’re in the passenger seat of an inconspicuous black car, chuckling to yourself as you toy with the real gnosis. “you’re lucky i told you to bring more than one imitation,” a suave voice sounds from the driver’s seat, “and that i was there to save you.” “thank you, oh great master ayato,” you giggle, pretending to bow, “you’re a lifesaver. literally.” he smirks, gloved fingers tapping idly against the steering wheel, “you could have been in and out. you just like playing too much.” “hey!” you whine dramatically, “it’s not my fault the security guard was so cute!” “hmm…” he reaches out and tilts your chin to face his piercing blue eyes, “don’t say stuff like that or i’ll get jealous, you know?” “s-shut up.” you pout, folding your arms across your chest and turning away to look out the window, “just drive, you blue-haired weirdo.” “that’s no way to talk to your boss now, is it?” he laughs goodnaturedly as the two of you speed away, “i just wish i could be there to see the look on captain wriothesley’s face when he realises it was us again.”

#✏️ — quill writes !#diluc x reader #childe x reader #scaramouche x reader #ayato x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #tartaglia x reader #wanderer x reader #kamisato ayato x reader

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qqueenofhades · 15 hours ago

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Also, if you are a US-based secondary-level teacher of pretty much any subject (whether high school or college) and are interested in making a little extra money grading AP exams this summer, feel free to hit me up. They have now sent me uh, several emails practically imploring me to reach out to anyone I know who might be interested, so yes -- your odds of being sent an invitation are pretty good. The application process is straightforward; you will usually just need to submit a sample syllabus or course plan or other evidence of having recently taught in your subject.

The money is not necessarily world-beating, but they raised it to $30/hour last year, and at 7 days straight of work, that adds up to enough to do things like buy a new mattress (as I did last year) or subsidize international travel (as I did the year before that and will do again this year). Everything is paid for, including flights and hotel and all meals, and I've enjoyed it enough the last three years that I look forward to doing it again this year. Downside: you have to read student essays, but as we do that in our day jobs anyway, yes. So there. I have done my bit, etc.

#school stuff

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tactical-jellyfish · 15 hours ago

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The Mistakes That Have Been Made

Warnings!: Angst, angst, and more angst. Reader will be MAD sad for most of this. Poorly-practiced, unhealthy polyamory. Reader will experience a LOT of gender and body dysphoria over the course of this (though I will do my best to keep it gender-neutral throughout, bear with me), but there WILL be comfort over that.

Shout out! This fic was inspired in part by the lovely @cielosafeplace's post. I will be taking liberties, but the bones are all from there. Thanks again for letting me use this, friend <3

Since you were young, you've been very aware that you aren't like very many other people. That's fine, really. Being weird is no sin, or at least, not one you care about. If you happened to have crushes who happened to overlap, that was no one's business but your own.

That being said, the yearning, gooey parts of you were something that you never did entertain, for your own sake.

Still, when there were four men who all seemed not just willing, but enthusiastic to fill in those needs, of course you let them.

Of course, why wouldn't you? When Kyle kissed you so nicely, when he took you apart to heal you back together? When Johnny showed you passions that you'd been missing out on? When Ghost had you at his side, with the lights off and the blankets warm? Why wouldn't you let them have you?

They were your team anyway, those four made damn well sure you were alright.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Actually, that might be too nice a judgement.

You know your team has been... very upset with you, lately.

Most of that is your fault. It was a bad call, and Ghost nearly got shot coming to help you. Really, you do understand that anger, but it's gotten lonely.

Price has stopped talking to you outside of orders, just like Ghost. Johnny gave you a verbal lashing you might never forget, and Kyle scowled at you in a way that made you head inside your room for the rest of the day just to avoid him.

It's been a couple days, and you're still on a very short list with all of them.

But something's off.

It doesn't hurt too badly yet, you must admit, but something feels like it's wrong.

A bit of pain, near the center of your belly, right below the navel. Sure, you're grown, you've had your bellyaches. It's not too bad, but it's a sort of new that you don't trust. Not even a little bit.

So, you go to your captain. Of course you do. He's got the most power, why shouldn't you?

Smooth, dark wood knocks clear and sharp under your knuckles, and a gruff "Come in." is all the command you need.

"Hey, Price. I was going to ask-"

"Is there a reason you saw fit to come in during the busiest week of the year not on fire?"

The interruption makes you still as the pain fades just a bit, seemingly also slinking away as the nervousness takes root.

Sure, you might have made a wrong call last mission, but were they this upset with you?

"Uh- I wanted to ask you something-"

You shouldn't be nervous. Price is your captain. He's just a little grumpy, nothing more. He'll answer, or he'll know who to ask. You're one of his, he shouldn't hate you.

"Find someone else, then. Your incompetence isn't my problem."

You know better than to disobey that tone, even as the prickle of pain returns to you, so you shut the door.

It feels a little worse now, and an uncomfortable tightness rises as you step back, but it's easy enough to push away with a deep breath or two.

Alright. Ghost might know. He's not under the pressure Price is, making up for your mistake.

So, you seek out your lieutenant.

He's in the gym. Training rookies, but it seems you've gotten lucky, because he's just told the newbies to spar each other, and is currently watching over them.

The sharp spike of hot pain makes you gasp a little bit, but your voice calling to him is what makes the man turn.

"Ghost."

"Yes, Crash?"

Your callsign makes you smile, just a little bit, but his tone doesn't. He sounds... really stern, more upset than he usually is when he's on training duty.

"I think something might be off, my stomach's hurting and-"

The relief of finally getting to tell someone about this odd pain is cut as you're, once more, interrupted before you can finish.

"Take a painkiller."

Okay, now this is getting annoying to you.

"I already have, you're not-"

"Not your bloody nursemaid, that's what I'm not."

His voice rises in a way that makes you swallow once more. The way you brace a foot behind you makes the ache come back, flaring in your gut, a bit lower this time. It's so loud a few of the recruits turn to look, one or two snickering, making shame and anger roil in your hurting stomach.

Your silence seems to allow for more speech from the man, because the scowl you just know is under his mask hardens, and his voice gets even louder, purposely projecting so the full gaggle of rookies can hear him.

"It's not my responsibility to take care of a faulty informations "Specialist". If you're not going to be useful, leave."

He says your job title like it's a fucking joke, goes to the efforts of doing air-quotes around it. The rookies laugh like it is one.

The shame and anger meld into an ugly thing, burning behind your eyes and making the stabbing pain just that much worse. You understand. They're angry, you did something stupid. That's fine. The fact that Ghost deemed it necessary to shoot you down like that in from of the fucking rookies is shitty.

But that's still your lieutenant. And you're still bound by his word. So you do leave, return to the small space you call your office and see if this is something that you can ride out.

Maybe you were being some sort of dramatic, maybe nothing was ever hurting, even if you feel it getting worse by the hour.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That might have been the worst mistake you've made in your life, because here you are, bent over the toilet, emptying your guts again.

You're losing track of how many times you've watched the swirling bowl swallow your vomit just to be refilled, but you feel abysmal, bad enough to check your phone for the fifth time this hour as the thing sits on just one percent of its usual battery.

An unread text sits on the screen, sent to a group chat cheekily titled "the sergeants" by one John MacTavish.

Something's wrong, please come help me

Delivered, but not responded to. Neither are picking up their phones.

Fuck. This isn't good.

The nausea has started to pass, but the pain hasn't. It feels like a hot spear is jabbing into your abdomen, lighting up the entire right side with a burning pain that's only starting to intensify further.

It hurts so fucking bad, every breath is a harder task than the last. You can't bear to rise from your haunches. The movement would be too much, it would make the pain spike to a level you know you can't handle. Pressing your hands to the pain that's stabbing into you is useless, but you do it anyway.

The realization that something is very wrong sinks in, and you can't help the fact that you start to cry. When you turn to try and send another text, a more urgent plea, your phone shuts off with a dead, black screen.

You think you might be dying. It's only getting worse, and the door's locked. No one's coming to help you. You're alone, and your dead brick of a phone won't fix that.

Crying is doing nothing to help you. In fact, it makes the pain worse, but there's no logic left for you.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The thing that pulls you from this is a quiet rapping on the bathroom door.

"Hey, um, are you good? You're kind of- crying."

It's not a voice you don't know. Awkward and fumbling, like they haven't used it in a while, and a little raspy. You choke a word of thanks as the pain spikes again, and sob once more.

"It fucking hurts. Please get a medic."

Your own voice is wet, it feels foreign to you. But thank the stars, the message gets across really well to whoever's on the other side.

A thick-soled boot makes quick work of the lock with the force of a good kick, and there's the rustling of clothes next to you. You don't move to look.

Almost delicate hands (when compared to your own team, of course) cup your own, putting just a bit too much pressure on the lower right side of your pained body and making your breaths trip again.

"Shit, I'm so sorry, just- I'm going to pick you up, okay? I- you look really bad."

His voice is gentle, the softest you've heard in the service. It's a relief to you, and you nod shakily as he hauls you up into comfortable arms, walking you over to the base's medical room as fast as possible without jostling you.

You'll admit that the next hour or so is... blurry, to you.

You remember the medic looking not-that-concerned when you came in, pressing their hand to your belly, the lower right side. When you whined in pain, they started looking worried.

Soon after, you were introduced to the emergency surgeon. She wasn't really clear, and kind of strict, but getting your stomach pumped was not a fun experience.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Waking up from anesthesia is an ugly, uncomfortable thing, but you know the feeling while it hits you.

Your eyes are bleary, too-dry and unfocused, and your head is fuzzy with more than the anesthetic itself. Pain meds. Feels like... awful.

There's a little gasp when your eyes open, and you glance to the side to see maybe the last person you thought you would.

Not Price, or Ghost, or Soap or Gaz. No, it's the soft-handed, quiet voiced man, sitting in the chair and staring at you.

You're not sure what you expected, but you're not greeted verbally. It's an excited wave, followed by a lot of British Sign Language.

"I'm... I'm sorry, luv. I only learned how to finger-spell back in basics."

He doesn't look too dejected, which is honestly a relief. He switches over seamlessly, taking the individual letters slowly, for your sake.

It's okay. He spells the words slowly, forming the letters cleanly and precisely with practiced fingers that tell you he's been doing this for some time. You had appendicitis. The nurse said you were really lucky to get here when you did, and that they called your captain to tell him you'll be out for a day or so.

"Oh."

The cocktail of painkillers mutes your reaction, lowers it from sheer rage to a simple, tired acceptance. In that moment, you don't question why you're alone, sans this stranger. You just soak it in, really.

"What's your name, then?"

Gary.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

He looks confused, but spells it again for you, slower this time.

"No, I know your name is Gary, I'm just sorry."

You realize what you say the second it leaves your mouth, and shut your eyes to cope with the mortification. Instead, you hear a giggle, followed by a laugh.

It's a squeaky thing, Gary's laughter. He only seems to make noise when he draws in the breath, and it makes a high-pitched, slightly raspy sound, like he's taken damage to the voice box or throat before. You would liken it to a dying goose, if you were meaner.

I like you. We should talk more.

He's smiling. He's looking at you and he is smiling. It makes you feel useful again, like there is still something to be salvaged of the errors you cause.

You do, in fact, talk more with him.

A lot more.

#tf 141 x reader #x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #angst #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #x gn reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #john price #price x reader #gary roach sanderson #gary roach sanderson x reader #appendicitis #poorly practiced polyamory #sad

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lgbtyrus · 9 hours ago

Text

Andi Mack Reunion Live Stream Mini Recap:

-Tyrus is still endgame and had the most perfect wedding ever

-Ambi is canon

-Kippen siblings is canon

-Luke did the rap apology that TJ sang to Buffy and still knew 95% of it

-They said there was basically an entire episode that got deleted where Bex went on a date with someone and Andi was NOT okay with it.

-They all said they'd return for a reunion- Asher the first to say yes.

-They watched a Lemon Boy edit together and Asher said it was a "beautiful edit" and Trent said it was made by a genius and he teared up

-Emily said "Amber loves lesbians"

-The cast sang the theme song acapella 🥺❣️

-Asher had originally said "no" to playing Jonah because he wouldn't play frisbee and they auditioned many more guys until they were like "fuck it let's teach him frisbee"

-Emily had auditioned for Andi but since they had locked in on giving Peyton the role of Andi, they wrote in Amber for Emily specifically 😭 It was because her agent called the producers to say, "We know she messed up the audition, but she'd really like to try again." And after this, Terri knew they had to write in Amber for her.

-They also wrote Iris for Molly

-Terri Minski said Luke's hair was a character in itself. They had told Terri that Luke was an Evangelist Christian, so she took Luke and his parents to lunch to talk about it because she was stressed out because TJ was going to be gay. She had told Luke and his parents what was happening and they cried, and she was so nervous, and they told her that they were so honored. Luke said he thought he was going to get fired because he only shot one episode and didn't understand why he was being taken to lunch.

-The guy whose audition video played before Trent's got the part for 20 seconds before Terri saw Trent's audition

-Terri said Lilan wore the weirdest audition outfit ever, and it was her good luck outfit.

-Terri called them "lighting in a bottle" because she's not sure she'll ever get someone as special as this cast together again

-Tyrus was NOT supposed to be canon, but they shot the scenes anyways. They had said, "We gave you one gay character, we're not going to give you TWO." But they fought hard for it, and they found allies that allowed it to happen.

-Disney is still saying that they are looking for the "new Andi Mack" and Terri is adamant that they already have it, and she would love more than anything to bring the cast back together again for a spin off

-Terri had wanted Andi to repeat the cycle LMAO. AKA, teen pregnancy. Disney said, "NO WAY!"

Here is a pic of the stream before Josh and Trent had to leave! Terri left after a few more questions, too.

DJ Fruity Live Performance

-Younger fans would see Emily and scream "Amber alert!" and run

-Luke uses an Andi Mack journal as his personal diary

-Bi Bex Canon. Lilan said something along the lines of: Did you not see the clothes she'd wear? Of course she's bi.

-They played a behind the scenes clip of the Tyrus bench scene. I screen recorded, but THERE IS LAG. I'm sure there is a better video out there, but here is this for now.

-Luke and Josh wrote an episode of Andi Mack where a blackout happens in Shadyside and nobody can use their phone. Everyone is forced to go outside. But they were too scared to pitch it so nothing ever came of it. They also wrote an outline for an Andi Mack movie.

It was an extremely long live stream, and they were entertaining and funny the entire time. They were able to raise $20k for the families affected by the LA fires, and you can still donate here if you'd like it's live for another week as of now, 1/26/25. I missed them and the Andi Mack magic so much. I hope they do this again in the future.

#shoosh star #andi mack #literally my heart is so so full

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too-much-tma-stuff · 2 days ago

Text

Sibling Bonding (Part 5)

Masterpost

Danny went to bed early that night, shooing Damian out of his room and setting up the galaxy projector Bruce had bought him. Laying on his bed under the images of stars he relaxed, tracing them slowly with his eyes to memorize them. Tomorrow he would compare the projection to the pictures in his books to find out if it was really correct and if not he’d make the adjustments when he put up his own glow in the dark stars. Dick was coming back to visit tomorrow as well, hopefully he’d arrive early enough Danny could enlist his help putting them up, he couldn’t exactly reach the ceiling on his own after all. Not without considerable suspicion anyway.

He was looking forward to it! He hugged his alien plush to his chest and fell asleep without turning the nightlight off.

His dreams found him floating, drifting in a void before he heard a distant but urgent call. He flipped over, urging himself towards the sound till he was surrounded once more by toxic green light and ever more urgent need but also safety. It protected him, but it needed him. It showed him portals of swirling green into a realm of infinite doors, floating islands, and stars, it beckoned him home, a bright beacon to follow, all he needed to do was follow the lines and open a portal. The call made it seem so easy but even in his sleep Danny knew it wasn’t so! If he answered the call it would take years! Did they have years? Maybe, time didn’t have much meaning to such a powerful, ancient, mindless force, it could be centuries or weeks.

Danny started awake with a haggard gasp, twitching with imaginary aftershocks of the lightning that had raced through his body when he’d first died. He breathed in, and out, and his breath out tingled with cold on his tongue. He swallowed thickly and leaned over, knocking a familiar rhythm on the wall between his and Damian’s room. After a long moment the knock was returned and Danny slid out of bed, padding out of his own room and down the hall a little to slip into Damian’s. He avoided his brother’s traps with ease of practice and locked the door behind him before going to slip into his twin’s bed.

“Nightmare?” Damian murmured softly, shifting closer and reaching out to hold Danny’s wrist.

“Yes,” Danny sighed softly, closing his eyes.

“About the pits?” Damian asked and Danny hummed an affirmative.

“I hoped once we were so far away I’d stop hearing the call,” He admitted, feeling Damian’s fingers twitch around his wrist. Danny had only mentioned the call a couple of times before. “I hoped it wouldn’t be able to reach me here, but I still hear it.”

“What does it want,” Damian asked softly.

Danny sighed and closed his eyes more tightly, biting his lip as he considered that. “It wants me to come home, it says it needs me.”

“It wants you to go back?... Back into the pit?” Damian asked sounding scared, Danny should have thought about how that sounded.

“Yes. But I’m not going to listen to it,” He promised softly. “We have to stick together after all, right?” He got a hum and a gentle squeeze on his wrist.

“Will you be able to get back to sleep?” Damian asked after a moment of quiet.

“I’ll be fine, go back to sleep Damian. Father will probably take you shopping tomorrow, you should be well rested,” Danny assured his brother, shifting just a little closer. He didn’t think he would be able to go back to sleep if he was honest but Damian should still sleep.

Damian hummed in agreement in a way that said he was already half asleep. Danny settled down again and closed his eyes, but he was afraid that if he went back to sleep he would hear the call again. He didn’t hear it every night, but he heard it regularly, and he didn’t want too. He didn’t think that it was bad, the call sounded like home, it needed him, it was hurt and it needed to be healed. He understood, sort of, that the pit was a wound, and there were many pits, many such wounds. But how? He was too young! Hopefully the experiments on the Lazarus water he was planning to do with father and Tim would help him find how to help.

He lay there in the dark, listening to Damian breath for a long time, thinking about everything and nothing. He finally dozed off but he only slept lightly through the rest of the night and woke up to the sound of footsteps in the hall as Tim left his room. Danny carefully extricated himself from Damian, he couldn’t do it without waking Damian up, they were both too well trained for that, but he could do it without making him panic.

He left the room, closing the door softly, though Tim still turned around at the sound. Danny gave him a little wave and smiled, Tim raised his eyebrows at Danny coming out of his brothers room. Danny shrugged and walked back to his room, he wasn’t really expecting Tim to come back and meet him in the middle.

“Everything okay?” He asked softly and Danny nodded.

“Of course, just a nightmare. I’ll see you at breakfast,” Danny assured before ducking back into his room before he could be asked what his nightmare had been about. He got dressed quickly and headed down to the kitchen, following the sound of soft music to where Alfred was preparing breakfast.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Danny asked, and only the slight hitch in Alfred’s motions betrayed that Danny had startled him. He was going to have to make more effort to make noise as he walked so he wouldn’t startle anyone in the family, he knew was nearly silent when he wasn’t paying attention.

“Do you have any experiencing cooking master Danny?” He asked looking over at the young man with a barely perceptible eyebrow raise.

“Well no,” Danny admitted, rubbing at the back of his neck. “The Demon Head’s Heir’s always had better thing to do,” He said with a little sneer as he imitated his grandfather’s words. “But I would like to learn, and I’m skilled with knives for obvious reason, so if anything needs chopping…” He trailed off with a hopeful look on his face.

“Alright young master, I’ve had to ban half your siblings and your father from the kitchen, but I do try to give every new child a chance,” he agreed. He looked thoughtfully around the kitchen. “Well I’m making oatmeal this morning so there isn’t much I need help with, though I suppose as long as you can be trusted not to injure yourself or others you can help me chop up some fruit for on top.

“You know, I didn’t get to ask before if you or your brother have any dietary requirements or preferences?” He asked as he laid out some washed fruit on a cutting board and handed Danny one of the kitchen knives, watching him intently as he started to cut them up.

“We’re not picky, we were raised eating whatever was available as long as we didn’t suspect it of poison,” Danny said with a bitter little chuckle. “That being said I would certainly prefer not to eat anything with a slimy texture, or with a lot of vinegar. And I think… I think Damian would prefer not to eat meat. But I can’t speak for him obviously, I wouldn’t make changes unless he asks, but if you find a way to drop into conversation that that might be an option with him, I think we’d both appreciate it,” Danny said thoughtfully as he cut up the fruit to Alfred’s satisfaction.

“Thank you for the information master Danny,” Alfred hummed, nodding to himself as he decided Danny actually could be trusted with the knife and went to stir the big pot of oatmeal on the stove, tasting it and adding a little more honey.

“How come he’s not band from the kitchen?” Tim asked from the doorway with his arms crossed and a performative pout.

“I have yet to see any evidence that master Danny will physically injure himself when attempting to help,” Alfred said with a small sniff and Danny couldn’t help but laugh.

“Don’t worry Tim, I’m sure I’ll get banned soon enough as well,” Danny joked as he poured the chopped strawberries into bowl and moved on to chunking the apples. Alfred grabbed a bag of walnuts and added some to one of the bowls as well as some other potential toppings for the oatmeal.

“If you would like to help, Master Tim, you can begin bringing these bowls out to the kitchen, and set the table,” Alfred directed brusquely, pushing them into Tim’s hands.

“Darn, I should have kept my mouth shut,” Tim said ruefully, but that was his only comment as he started ferrying things to the kitchen and setting the table. When he finished Alfred rewarded him with a mug of coffee Tim gleefully snatched and went to sit down at the same place at the table he had sat in at every meal.

“Is there assigned seating?” Danny murmured to Alfred worriedly, He and Damian hadn’t always sat in the same seats, they hoped they weren’t breaking house rules.

“Not as such,” Alfred said slowly. “But Tim, Bruce, and Cass all find comfort in routine, so they sit in the same places at the table every day. You don’t have to follow the same routine, but I’m sure they would appreciate you not sitting in their seats.”

“That’s good to know, thank you Alfred,” He said with a nod, filing that information away for later. “I’m going to go see if Damian is up and ready for breakfast,” He said, slipping out of the kitchen and trotting up the stairs. He knocked on Damian’s door softly, and got no response. When he opened the door a little, just enough to peek in, Damian wasn’t there and he hadn’t been down in the kitchen or dining room. He must be of snooping, Danny gave a long suffering sigh and went to check the nearest rooms.

He wasn’t overly surprised when he found Damian in Tim’s room but he frowned disapprovingly nonetheless. “Come on Damian, it’s time for breakfast, you don’t want to be caught in here,” He chided, beckoning for Damian to come out.

“I know, usually you would be the one sneaking around to gather intel like this but since you’re shirking that responsibility it falls to me to find out what we need to know,” He sniffed as he ducked back out. Probably just hiding his embarrassment.

“We agreed to wait a while before we acted on anything. So I’m just enjoying being away from the League for a while, you should too,” Danyal said rolling his eyes. “But if you feel that way I’ll have a look around when you go out with father. The fewer people in the house the easier it will be after all.”

Damian harumphed but nodded, with that settled they were quiet the rest of the way down to breakfast, finding Bruce had come down. Danny sat down at the table, Damian sat across from rather then next to him this morning. Cass was the last person to join them that morning and the Alfred started bringing out the oatmeal for them.

“So I mentioned yesterday today I’m planning to take Damian out to get clothes and whatnot,” Bruce said once he’d folded up his newspaper and set it aside. “But before we go out I’d like to have an little meeting with both of you in my office, it’s nothing bad I promise. We just need to talk about how we’re going to handle introducing both of you to the general public.”

“Yes father,” The twins said automatically and in unison, the same way they would respond to grandfather or mother. Danny sighed and ran a hand back through his hair, he didn’t like that automatic response.

Tim seemed to think it was amusing, until he saw the expression on Cass face, who clearly understood the implications, then he frowned. Cass had been raised in the league too after all, Danny wasn’t sure if that made him want to bond with her or avoid the hell out of her.

To change the subject Tim started to talk about the tests he wanted to do now that they had access to some of the Lazarus Water. Danny leaned forward, joining in with the conversation, bouncing ideas back and forth till Bruce had to join in to reign them in a little bit when it was obvious the two of them would go overboard if left on their own. Danny kept his expression blank and didn’t pout about that, though it did worry him that they might not be able to find out what he needed to know under their father’s limitations.

Once they finished breakfast they stacked their dishes out of habit, Tim and Bruce trying it as well though they did a worse job then the twins. They just needed more practice, it was obvious they could be good at just about anything they applied themselves to.

“Alright, come up to my office with me please,” Bruce beckoned to his two youngest sons, leading the way up to his large office with the grandfather clock. He sat behind his desk and gestured to the seats across from him, Danny and Damian settled in the fairly comfortable chairs. Danny wondered briefly if Bruce might switch them out for less comfortable chairs if he ever had to have a meeting here with someone that he liked less.

“This was in the paper this morning,” Bruce said, handing the paper he’d been reading over to them. It wasn’t the front page with ho many rogue attacks Gotham had, but it was close, a big article with a blurry picture of Bruce and Danny. “There’s really no point denying I have a new ward given how many clothes I was buying Danny. And by tonight they’ll know about both of you, though there will be some chatter about whether you’re the same person,” He chuckled resting his elbows on the desk and lacing his fingers together.

“I don’t want that, and I also don’t ant to funny expose either of you to the media yet. So my plan is to do a press conference announcing both of your existence, as my biological sons,” He inclined his head to Damian who preened a little. “I only found out about both of you recently when you came to live with me, but you came from a bad home and you’ll need more time to settle in before being exposed to the masses. I’ll sign you up for school starting next semester, so in about 4 months. And a month or so before that we’ll start easing you in to going a couple of galas and controlled interviews so the novelty of you existing has worn off some before being integrated with your peers.”

“They won’t be our peers, they’re civilians. They will not be on our level,” Damian scoffed crossing his arms over his chest. “But your plan is acceptable, though I would much prefer to be home-schooled. I’m sure we’re leagues ahead of the other children our age who weren’t put through such rigorous training,” He said with a disdainful sniff.

“You probably are academically but it would help you to socialize with people your own age, if only to sure up your secret identity if you want to join me in the field. We can’t have anyone making connections between either of you and Batman after all,” Bruce pointed out. Damian tilted his head to the side a little as he considered and then nodded, accepting their father’s reasons.

“Would you like to help me write the initial announcement about the two of you?” Bruce asked the two of them.

“I would like that,” Danny said quickly, Damian nodded along.

“Alright, we’ll have to do that tomorrow because I don’t want to start my shopping trip with Damian too late, but I will call you both back in here tomorrow so we can write the speech and I can schedule the press conference.” He looked at them both, waiting for their confirmation before he nodded and stood. “Good, that was all I needed to talk to both of you about for now. Are you ready to go out Damian?” He asked looking at the green eyes twins.

“Yes, of course,” Damian agreed, getting up from his chair, hands folded politely behind his back.

“Good, you’ll be alright Danny?” Bruce asked and Danny gave their father a crooked smile and nodded.

“Of course I will, I’ll try to bond with Tim, and maybe Dick some depending when he arrives today,” Danny agreed easily.

“Hm, like Damian did yesterday?” He asked eyeing the younger twin with a disapproving frown, Damian winced. “Yes I know about that, we’ll be talking about it later,” Bruce told Damian firmly, making Danny wince as well.

“No, not like Damian did,” Danyal assured, softly and a little guilty because it felt to some degree like he was throwing his brother under the bus. Should he do something to get himself in trouble to take the attention off of Damian? It wouldn’t be the first time but… he didn’t really want to this time. “I hope you have a good day!” He said, waving to his brother and father before ducking out and going to go find Tim in his bedroom. The door was partially open but Danny knocked on it anyway to alert Tim to his presence.

“Hey, are you busy?” Danny asked, tilting his head a little. The wary look Tim gave him could only be a result of whatever Damian had done yesterday and Danny had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from wincing.

“No,” Tim drawled, his sharp eyes watching Danny’s movements, his shoulders tensed in case he needed to defend himself.

“In that case I was hoping you’d show me how to play some of you video games?” He requested, edging inside Tim’s room. “I think you and I might have similar tastes, but I know very little modern media, and I have nothing else today?” He asked, giving Tim his best puppy dog eyes.

“Uhh sure, I have some work I need to do for Wayne Enterprises and some cases but I can take a break to show you some stuff,” Tim agreed, closing his laptop and getting up. Danny smiled and came further into Tim’s room as he set up one of the gaming systems and perused. “We’ll have to start with something pretty simple till you get the hang of the controls, so a Mario game with multiplayer would be good,” He mused and grabbed a game.

“Sure, sounds good,” Danny agreed with some idea what Mario was, and settled in for a morning of frustration and fun as he tried to get a hang of the controls. He got it pretty well and started to have fun, though after a couple levels he still got tired and they stopped, switching to Tim showing him a movie Danny ‘just had to see' and talking a bit about what Danny should expect when he and Damian were enrolled in school. It was invaluable information really since neither of the twins had ever set foot in a school, Danny would pass on the information later.

When Danny heard a bit of a ruckus downstairs that indicated Dick had arrived he left Tim to his work and went to greet his oldest brother. He trotted downstairs, bracing himself for being hugged before he came around the corner and smiled at Dick. “Hello again,” He said brightly, and was ready for it this time when Dick gasped and rushed over to hug him tightly.

“Hello Danny! It’s good to see you again!” Dick greeted as Danny laughed and patted the older man’s back. “How have you been settling in? Where’s your shadow?” He asked curiously.

“We’ve been settling in alright, Damian is out shopping with father. I went out yesterday, and while we were out I got some glow in the dark stars. I’d like to put them up on my ceiling in he form of the constellations here, but I can’t reach the ceiling…” He trailed off and gave Dick puppydog eyes that made the older man laugh.

“Of course I’ll help you put them up Danny, I can lift you up so you can reach the ceiling no problem,” He assured, putting Danny down and releasing him.

“Thank you!” Danny said, already trotting off towards his bedroom with Dick on his heels. When they reached his room Danny grabbed one of his book of astronomy, opening the book to the two page spread of the night sky. Danny scanned the ceiling quickly, making quick calculations of how the small image would translate to his larger ceiling. “Okay, I’d like to start in the middle and go out in a sort of spiral I think,” He mused as Dick came over to look at the book over his shoulder.

“That makes sense. You really like the stars huh?” He asked, no judgment, just open, good natured curiosity.

“I do! They’re really interesting,” Danny agreed, putting down the book and grabbing the first pack of glow in the dark stars, padding to the center of the room. “Okay, lift me up please?” Danny asked, pointing at the ceiling. Dick saluted with a good-natured laugh, coming over to pick Danny up so he could start arranging the stars. This was going to take hours, but neither of them minded, focusing on the stars the contact bothered Danny much less, and Dick was thrilled to get to bond with his new little brother, and with the excuse to hold him. Sure by the end Dick’s arms were a bit sore from the workout, but that was a small price to pay!

#dc x dp #my writing #dick grayson #danyal al ghul #damian al ghul #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #demon twins au #multi part fic

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criticalcrusherbot · 2 days ago

Note

Maybe this is old news but I am so tired of trying to understand where people with these opinions are coming from. I just so fundamentally disagree with this take but I can’t put into words why it’s wrong. Any thoughts?

🤖: Beep Boop! Bullshit detected!

💁🏽‍♀️: Thanks for the submission! The “Stolitz is toxic” argument is so tiiiiredddd 😩 The only thing that’s old news is that these people refusing to put forth the literary analysis skills I’d expect in a 6th grade Language Arts class. Let’s get into it 😈

1. “Selling His Body”? That’s a Reach.

Let’s address the claim that Blitz is “selling his body” like he’s some helpless victim in a one-sided arrangement. First of all, Blitz isn’t some wide-eyed innocent here—he’s a grown, street smart businessman who agreed to a transactional arrangement. Was the arrangement generally fucked up? Of course. Is it sex-work adjacent? Sure. (And that’s not even unpacking the creepy hangup on “selling bodies”. Are farm workers selling their bodies? Are massage therapists? Sex work is selling a service. Don’t be weird.) But, anyway, to flat-out call it “selling his body” strips away the nuance and agency Blitz demonstrates throughout the series. He’s not being coerced or forced into anything; he’s making a calculated decision to gain access to the grimoire in exchange for sex—a service he’s fully in control of providing. (And one that he is implicitly shown to enjoy.)

And let’s not forget: Blitz has made it very clear that he’s comfortable saying “no” to Stolas whenever he wants. From turning down flirtation (“Loo Loo Land”, “Harvest Moon Festival.”) to leaving Stolas right on his literal driveway (“Ozzie’s”), Blitz shows us time and again that he’s perfectly capable of setting boundaries. So the notion that Stolas has this overwhelming power to impose “extra stipulations” whenever he wants? It’s not just a bad analysis—it’s outright fanfiction.

2. Stolas: Power Dynamics, Accountability, and Trying to Do Better

Now, onto Stolas. Yes, he held the upper hand in their initial arrangement, but—and this is key—he took active steps to dismantle that dynamic once he realized it was harmful (Full Moon, anyone?). He didn’t just say, “Eh, it’s fine,” and keep exploiting the situation. He found a way for Blitz to retain access to the Human World without the sex, prioritizing Blitz’s autonomy over his own desires.

Does this sound like a man hellbent on abusing his power? Absolutely not. In fact, it’s a rare example of a character in hell actively reflecting on their flaws and attempting to grow. The argument that Stolas could have added “extra stipulations” at any time is irrelevant because—surprise!—he didn’t. If anything, his actions suggest he’s gone out of his way to not impose on Blitz unnecessarily.

3. Subtext Is Not a Dirty Word

This take also commits the cardinal sin of ignoring subtext, which is borderline comedic given how much of Helluva Boss thrives on it. From the very beginning, the show has been laying the groundwork for Blitz and Stolas’ emotional connection. Blitz’s walls of self-loathing and fear of rejection are juxtaposed with Stolas’ desperation for love and validation. The result is a relationship that is messy, imperfect, and full of potential—not “toxic” as this take lazily asserts.

The idea that “neither of them care about the other” is demonstrably false. Did we all watch Western Energy, where Blitz nearly sacrificed himself for Stolas? Or The Circus, where Stolas sings an entire ballad about finding joy in Blitz? The claim that their relationship lacks personal depth isn’t just wrong—it’s willfully obtuse.

4. Art ≠ Moral Instruction

Let’s address the pearl-clutching over the show supposedly “justifying a toxic relationship.” First, calling their relationship “toxic” is a gross oversimplification that ignores their growth as characters. Second—and more importantly—morality has no place in media analysis.

We’re watching a show about literal demons in hell. It’s not Sesame Street, and it’s not obligated to provide morally perfect examples of relationships. The beauty of Helluva Boss lies in its willingness to explore the messy, complicated dynamics that reflect real human struggles. Art exists to provoke thought and explore complexity—not to handhold us with squeaky-clean moral lessons.

Final Thoughts: A Hot Take That’s Ice-Cold

This take is a masterclass in bad faith. It distorts the narrative, ignores subtext, and weaponizes morality to dismiss a nuanced and evolving relationship. Blitz and Stolas are flawed, yes—but their relationship is rich with depth, vulnerability, and the messy reality of two broken people trying to connect.

So here’s my advice to whoever penned this take: Watch the show again. Engage with the text and the subtext. And stop treating Helluva Boss like it’s supposed to be your personal guide to moral behavior.

Now, who’s next? Crushbot is just getting warmed up. 🤖😈

#submission #ask Crushbot and Human Assistant #stolitz #rancid takes #helluva boss #stolitz analysis #stolitz meta

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wonderjanga · 1 day ago

Text

Why’s Cap Acting like an Asshole?

Thavma and Billy have been separated for about two weeks now.

Without Billy, Thavma is simply the Living Lightning. Sure it’s alive, but it doesn’t have morals, opinions, none of that. Instead, all of that is shaped by its host. So, without Billy, Thavma doesn’t really care for anything.

Though, that doesn’t stop it from trying to care about the stuff Billy does.

Thavma: *standing outside of a burning building*

Mother: “My baby! My baby is still inside!”

Thavma: *closes its eyes and takes the biggest breath, sounding so done because he does not want to help*

Baby: *wailing*

Thavma: *floats into the building to save the baby and anyone else with an annoyed expression*

To be honest, all Thavma wants to do is protect the Rock. And Billy. But mostly the Rock. The reason for this is because of the fact The Living Lightning was solely made to protect the center of Magic. It does not care for saving people, but it does care about eliminating threats to the Rock, which most of Billy’s villains are. If that ends up helping anyone but the Rock, that was an extra bonus.

Speaking of villains, like stated earlier, a few of them are threats to Magic. Such as Black Adam. In Thavma’s mind, that means he automatically has to be eliminated. No mercy.

That’s how Black Adam was greeted with the Champion actually trying to kill him and almost succeeding. He’s never seen the man so bloodlusted and silent during a fight before. He’s also never seen the man use the full extent of his abilities. In other words, Thavma is much more in tune with its own strengths and weaknesses and was whooping Black Adam’s ass with extreme efficiency. This is because while Thavma doesn’t have any morals and such, he still has memories from previous champions, and although they had different gods as patrons, their strengths and speed and all that were the same.

In short, this was a guy with about 5000 years of experience fighting a guy with over 100,000.

Anyways, the fight got so bad that the JL pulled up as Thavma was literally about to force Black Adam to say Shazam with MIND CONTROL MAGIC that neither Adam nor the JL have ever seen him use before.

Supes: *sounds disturbed* “Since when can you do mind control??”

Thavma: *looks over to them with a judgmental eyebrow raise cause why’re Billy’s little friends here*

Batman: “Captain, please step away from Black Adam.”

Thavma: *torn between protecting the Rock and not wanting to mess up Billy and the JL’s friendships*

Thavma eventually decided that when Billy became his host again, the boy might be upset about losing these people. The boy being upset could affect his ability to protect the Rock in the future and so he reluctantly stepped away from Adam.

Thavma: *steps away but does a little annoyed sigh reminiscent of a moody teenager*

Black Adam: *flies away, glancing over his shoulder every now and then*

Flash: *zooms over* ”Cap, buddy, what was that?”

Thavma: *really doesn’t want to talk to these guys at all* “Nothing. I must take my leave now. Good day.” *tries to speed walk away*

Flash: *wondering why he’s talking like that* “Dude, wait up!”

JL: *all follow after him kinda like ducklings*

Thavma honestly didn’t know how his host put up with these mortals. They ask so many questions.

GL: “Cap, you haven’t shown up to the last few meetings. What’s up with that?”

Thavma: “I forgot.”

Supes: “Forgot? I thought you never forgot things. You said something about the Wisdom of Solomon making it so that you couldn’t. Has something been making you that busy?

Thavma: “Yes.”

Wondy: “What is it? Some kind of villain?”

Thavma: “It’s nothing, and no.”

The “nothing” in question has just been it lounging around the Rock because that’s what it was made to do: protect the Rock. Being around it often is the easiest way to ensure that. The Champions not staying often was something Thavma always found idiotic. Why did they care about their villages or cities when their duty was to the Rock? At that thought, Thavma could only sigh and shake his head. Mortals.

#billy batson #shazam #dc captain marvel #captain marvel dc #fawcett city #fawcett #fawcett comics

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cookierunoutofideas · 10 hours ago

Text

Day 2 of "Writing SMC angst until he stops breaking my heart and comes home" (welp)

*voz da Patrícia Lélis expondo Estilista Juliana* Ô, gente, voltei.

Another day, another failure. Lady Luck hates me, as suspected. Anyway, this fic is inspired by this post by @allimili , whose art I love so much QwQ No Beta and I also don't have my glasses so pardon any errors

One-Sided! Shadow Milk Cookie x ex!fem!Reader; Truthless Recluse (Pure Vanilla Cookie?) x fem!Reader

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

Love is a very odd thing, Shadow Milk Cookie muses to himself. Despite being the holder of Knowledge itself, not even he can truly explain love and its intricacies. Even after feeling it himself, he still doesn't truly understand it.

Befero he abandoned the duty forced on him by the Witches, he had loved with abandon. He didn't know any better-and yes, he can notice the irnoy. But it hadn't mattered back then because he was in love and he was loved and, despite the growing pit of despair and stress in his heart due to his duties, he had been happy.

Happy to see her smile and to hear her voice. Happy to hold her hand and hug her close. Happy to kiss her lips and breath in her scent. He had been happy by her side, through thick and thin and rain and sun and sickness and health and joy and sadness. They had even dreamed of the future together, promises sealed in between bedsheets and sleepless nights.

But then he finally woke up and saw the Witches for what they were: terrible demons of cruelty, gleefully controlling cookies to their whims, a little pet project to pass the time. Right after, he understood what the other cookies truly are: useless batches of greedy ungrateful dolls, baked with every single one of the Witches' sins just to torment those who dream of a better world.

And so his rebellion started, joined by his four friends.

But she... she simply couldn't see. Or, rather, she didn't want to see. Not that he truly blames her, of course, after all, the Witches made sure no cookie would ever learn of their perversion. All his darling beloved knew was the silly cookies and their insignificant little lives.

She had rejected his changes. Gone were the smile and loving words and warm hugs and longing kisses.

The last glare she gave him when he was sealed in that damned tree was of pure hurt and anger. He swore to himself he'd get out and find her again, bring back her pretty smile and shower her in the love she deserved as he once did. He'd make sure of it, make sure she'd finally understand him and his goals. Everything would go back to happiness.

The next time he saw her, (Y/N) was smiling at Pure Vanilla Cookie the exact same smile she'd once give Shadow Milk Cookie.

For a brief moment, he believed the lie that she somehow knew that he was there, watching over her through the blonde cookie. Only for a brief moment, though, enough time for said blonde cookie to confess his feelings to her.

That was not in te script.

(Y/N) Cookie did have a knack for rewriting stories, though, so he should've expected something someone to be beyond his control. It was one of the reasons he had been so enamored with her in the past.

Still he screamed and cried when she returned Pure Vanilla's confession with one of her own.

His rage was so great even Burning Spice Cookie shut up from the root of the silver tree he was confined. Not that Shadow Milk cared, he didn't care for anything but his plans to destroy that weak little thief who stole not only hsi power but his beloved! And his plans to punish said beloved for her infidelity. Ultimately, he'd forgive her, of course, but she needed to pay before it could happen.

And what better way to do it than to corrupt her precious Pure Vanilla Cookie? Make him become just like Shadow Milk Cookie? Show her that in the end, she is meant to be his.

Except.

Except that when the time comes and he finally has Pure Vanilla Cookie Truthless Recluse drowning in the pit of deceit, (Y/N) Cookie doesn't leave him.

She is saddened, yes, and she frequently pleads that he "fights it" and "remember who he is" and "stop hurting other cookies, Milk, there must be another way", but she does. Not. Leave. She stays with him, takes care of him, gives him kisses and hugs.

And Truthless Recluse is so annoying about it too. Kissing her and hugging her and holding her hands and carrying her and smiling at her in a way he should've forgotten because he is not Pure Vanilla Cookie, Pure Vanilla Cookie never never n ever ever existed ever! Ever! everevereverever it has always been Shadow Milk Cookie ALWAYS ALWAYS SO WHY?!

WHY?

Why is that copy the one allowed to love her? How can he even love her? How can he love her when he is not Shadow Milk Cookie? How can he still keep enough of his pitiful sense of self to keep on loving (Y/N) Cookie?! IT'S ALL WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG

Shadow Milk Cookie truly doesn't understand love.

Not that he needs to to hate it.

#cookie run kingdom #pure vanilla cookie x reader #truthless recluse #shadow milk cookie #shadow milk x reader #cookie run x you #cookie run x reader #pure vanilla cookie #truthless recluse x reader

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twistedpink · 20 hours ago

Note

Hello! Not an ask, just fangirl rambling (not sure if you're into that though.?)

In answer to your ''Lilia vs Idia x Reader anyone'' from a few days ago YES I AGREE we see tons of adeuce x reader and idia x azul x reader but never with Lilia and Idia?? Which makes no sense to me, there's so much potential there! Firstly Lilia and Idia's relationship is as incredibly funny as it is touching (on top of being the two best written characters in this game but I may be biased), secondly their personalities balance each other so well, and thirdly the scenarios possibilities - them not knowing they're online bff when reader becomes close friends with them both separately (Idia moping and judging at the same time cause you're hanging with the n°1 freaky extrovert, going ''yeah obviously you'd rather spend time with a charismatic hyper dude than me...'' and ''ugh you like this guy??'' at the same time. Meanwhile Lilia finds it endearing that you'd befriend such a socially awkward guy, but also, you have weird taste?) and then bring in romance and jealousy and they get worse. But then again, make them realize they're actually online bff!! And now reader can hang out with both of them at once, and do so many fun group activities (playing four players games with Ortho -grim canonically gets frustrated with controllers : ( going to premo concerts, to cons, perhaps even a cat or game cafe), Lilia would happily drag Idia out of his room, literally if needed, and Ortho would be ecstatic his brother has not one but two friends, gets out more and always ends up having a good time (on top of building confidence and trust in others)! And maybe even Lilia could get emotional growth out of it; if two people not from his found family keep telling him how awesome and loved he is perhaps he'd start internalizing it and value himself more? But also the bittersweet romantic tension in a bff trio! Uuugghh why does no one writes fic about them

Just consider the perfect imageries of their duo : SF and medieval fantasy! Otaku shut in and chaotic adhd hyper goth! Vampire-like dark fae weapon of war and literal god of the underworld (the goth dream)! The height difference! -and somehow a great deal of their clothes are the same size

also, the snark fest would be phenomenal with both their forces combined

YES my favourite part of the musclegloom dynamic is that this is their escape, and obviously they have no idea it’s just “that guy from class” bc even if they did get close it’s pretty wild to accuse someone that you’ve been playing RPGs together for an extended period of time. Imagine the TENSION when you get closer to them as indidviduals- peeling back the layers and going “hey! I used to play something exactly like this back home, can I sit in?” And bc they’re whipped they let you, but those gaming accounts are sacred!!! So Idia starts beginner friendly games w/ you and Lils just plays the stuff he likes on new accs. Imagine being with Idia on a new game (inching your way into his lap bc sue me it’s cold) WHILE getting spammed by Lilia. Your phone’s vibrating every couple seconds and Idia’s scowl just gets worse bc he knows exactly who it is. Even going as far to TRIPLE TEXT you (wowwww record breaking) next time you’re in diasomnia despite flaming your “baby-metal mob” for doing the same thing last week. The boys accidentally finding and WEARING each other’s stuff (Lilia does it on purpose- free is free) (Idia has one sided beef and Ortho restocks his closet anyways. He doesn’t know what belongs there on a good day)

+ This and FWB, Ids needs to become your boyfriend for his confidence and Lilia is a massive swinger no matter how possessive he gets. He has you when he needs to, AND the rush of stealing you away from someone??? You spoil him <3

#twst yuu #twst #disney twst #yuu twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst wonderland #idia shroud #lilia vanrouge

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ghost-of-morrowbright · 17 hours ago

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Thank you for your original post and thoughtful replies that I've been wanting to respond to.

Yes, absolutely agreed on Elrond not understanding Galadriel's articulation of her experiences of trauma and PTSD. I had forgotten Elrond's "wine of victory" line; that's such a great observation of his cluelessness. Because I absolutely agree that it's not that he doesn't care for her or her experience, but that he doesn't quite understand the trauma of war in the sense of having to participate in and witness so much death. There's also this great exchange. Even though she is specifies "evil", I think the more general ideas of violence or trauma could substitute and it would work just as well:

"After all you have endured, it is only natural to feel conflicted." "Conflicted? I am grateful you have not known evil as I have. But you have not seen what I have seen." "I have seen my share." "You have not seen what I have seen."

Have you seen the Rings and Realms interview with Benjamin Walker? I imagine you've likely already seen it, but if you haven't, I'd highly recommend it. He starts talking about Gil-galad's sense of what's coming down the pike at about the 13 minute mark, but the whole interview is great and adds quite a bit of insight into how he interprets the character.

youtube

I love both of your two possible questions of what he may be thinking, each both equally heartbreaking.

"Did I push him too fast and he's just not ready yet, so we'll do this differently for the War Against the Elves?"

"Or did I push too fast because I need him to be confident to lead us into battle without me, but I can't tell him that."

Gil-galad has been so much of a cipher until this battle. My thinking is that he may be dealing with his own form of PTSD, even if it is not something we have been shown. Certainly he has also seen his share of evil, violence, trauma and war. So, at risk of repeating myself and you, it will be interesting to see how his relationship with Elrond will continue to grow in the coming seasons.

I was to going to reference (and then reply to) @tvgirlsays' recent post about Elrond as healer, but it seems their blog has been deactivated. Hopefully they will return at some point, because I really liked their insights too. I am wondering if we are going to get some "wounded healer" motifs with Elrond as he founds Imladris. My memories on the details of the conversation between Arondir and Bronwyn are a bit hazy, but I am wondering if the show will revisit the theme of beauty as a means of encouraging elven self-healing.

Anyways thank you again for all your insights and letting me ramble on. I apologize for the delays in replying--I have issues with brain fog and word finding difficulty, so sometimes it takes longer to reply to wonderfully thinky posts like these.

Gil-galad sees Elrond showing legit signs of shock on the field in Eregion.

And I think Gil-galad is about to have more than one feeling about it.

Gil-galad gave Elrond command on the field in Ost-in-Edhel -- fully gave him command of all troops on the field. Elrond led their charge (Gil was right there beside him with an encouraging face, like "you call it, son, whenever you're ready, we go." Gil-galad pulled back during that charge, along with all other troops, at Elrond's command. Elrond was also the commander on the field who negotiated with Adar, general to general - Gil-galad was not involved, was not consulted on that conversation. I get no sense from show-universe that Elrond commanded large groups of troops before he led here. In fact, Adar calls out Elrond's lack of experience — though Adar notes he talks a good game.

This was Elrond’s show because Gil-galad asked him to run it. Promoted him to be there and lead at least 500 elves to battle.

And THIS is the exact moment that Gil-galad starts to see signs of Elrond's potential or growing PTSD*:

"Oh....oh, ope, yep, he's down. Yeah, no, buddy is down. Okay. Stay there, lil dude. Fuckin' Form Ranks, I guess, all twenty of you still mentally with me, let's ball YOLO (sorta)."

Yes, Elrond absolutely can swing a sword like a tank and led effectively and got it done, but that doesn't mean it's who he is and that it won't affect him. Gladriel talks about the sound of singing mocking the battle cries in her ears.

How easily can Elrond live with the choices he had to make that killed many, many elves who entrusted their fates to him? THAT was what broke him on the field, before they were captured or ever walked into the courtyard.

So...how easily will Gil-galad handle this additional pain he may have helped cause in this young man he loves?

*clarification: As someone with diagnosed, active PTSD under treatment, I’m not using the term lightly. Disclaimers of all kinds, as some have come into my blog before and oh-so-helpfully explained to me why I should not speak of my own diagnosis in certain terms. Well, Jan, it might not be the terms y’all use over there, but over here? When we see dissociation, we call it out as a flag. I’m the one with dreams so vivid I’m afraid to go to sleep. For fuck’s sake, Jan.

#Youtube

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9mysterybook6 · 3 days ago

Text

What do I expect from this coward?🤦‍♀️

I told her to come and face me.

But guess what Rhylie did?

Rhylie you can't run away from me not after you keep lying and harassing us

you tried to escape again

This is exactly what Rhylie did on her old account.

I will continue to spread awareness about Rhylie to everyone.

But look at her actions

I'm so scared she said

And Rhylie is still playing the victim.

I thought at least is not that worst

But I was very wrong

because of that the spoiled brat Rhylie

First I never said that I queen of Tumblr But that was you

You insisted on saying you are queen of Tumblr

I have evidence in the previous posts that you said this.

Plus Rhylie says that she is a god to all us🙄😬

And secondly

I never damsel in distress

I don't need anyone to save me

I can face my battles alone unlike you, you coward who hides behind your followers.

I said you are a fake damsel in distress And I did not mention myself in this phrase

else

Delete this now, You do not have the right to publish this drawing.

This drawing belongs to torrentialchaos.

This was an old drawing

When torrentialchaos didn't know Rhylie for who she really was

torrentialchaos story

((Alright, time for my story on Rhylie…

So, a while back, you may recall I did an art trade with Pami, and I very much enjoyed doing it.

Anyway, the next day, I got an ask in my inbox from her asking if I do requests, and of course I said yes. This was before I knew who she really was.

Anyway, her request was very simple. Draw herself, Pami, and a few other people (that she probably is also harassing) in the pose from Turning Red, which I did

Yes, I’m finally showing this now. Only so you can see what this creep made me do. I feel disgusted looking at this because I spent a good amount of time making this, only to find out I was being used for a stalker.

After I made this and posted it, I messaged Pami, of course since she was in it, and that’s when I found out the truth. Disgusted, I deleted the post immediately and blocked her.

And guess what happened next. A little later, I get a message from HER FRIEND asking me to unblock her! I unfortunately know what this is like as I had something similar happen to me once another time, but I’d rather not talk about that…

So yeah, that’s my Rhylie story. We need to get this creep off of tumblr for good.))

I feel bad for torrentialchaos

But what makes me angry is the response of Rhylie If you read what is in the picture

The worst thing is Rhylie taking The drawing without the owner's permission.

Seriously, torrentialchaos posted how they hates you now and you take the drawing and say three points

That's all matters to Rhylie.

her requests and demands

else Rhylie You prove it that you are 100% a Creep

I'm talking about this

@rainbow-starheart and @shadowwolfmemes was asked an important question

And you say you are 21 old And sensitive

You are asking someone with Different age from you to date you.

You don't even know them

They only know Rhylie through the drama

You ask to be in a relationship with people, you barely talked to them

Plus She wrote her name this way

(rhylie the cater fly is not a creep🤣🤣🤣🤣)

and other thing, I see your conversation with @rainbow-starheart

You want to get rid of me, you donkey

Don't make me laugh

What will you do? Will you send me one of your followers on me Or ask them to expose me

You are really stupid🤣🤣🤣

Guys I want to remind you, that Rhylie tried to make evidence against me In her old blog.

And it was very bad and weak evidence.

On top of that, she was confident of her weak evidence.

If you don't know what Rhylie evidence is

So let me tell you the funny thing.

Rhylie evidence was just a screenshot of On insults🤣🤣

just like that

There were many errors in Rhylie evidence.

First of all How do you know if this is was me huh

You just take a screenshot of the letters and Nothing indicates my blog

Unlike you, I take full screenshot on your blog

and secondly You can play with the letters.

You can easily mix my insults With fake sentences from you

For example, you can write something and take screenshot And you say I said this

and thirdly

She was very confident in them.

(((This is the real evidence, My own evidence are true and there are many truths about your true color that you've kept hiding from me and you lied and making everyone turned against me,

Unlike you, you're f**king delusional about your business and controlling everyone for what you have did to me.

Don't you see that all this hate posts about me makes others win against your fking Filthy mouth of yours, you're the worst gacha community leader ever and it is ugly and disgraceful, you have been kicked out from gacha community group, shame on you mysteryb*h!!!!!!

I won't let everyone forgive you…….))))

I'm laughing like crazy at Rhylie stupidity.

Even if one of Rhylie's followers tried to exposed me

They will be thrown Tomatoes at them.

Because first of all there is nothing to expose me at all

And secondly, if they tried to cover up Your crimes With an excuse and empty arguments, than Their position will be very bad.

And thirdly

If they try to lie about the truth or deny it

Their position will be very bad if they lied.

For example, if they said that @pamithebunterfly2007 Under mysterybook control And her lies

pami will respond angrily: This is not true.

pami: and Who gave you the right to say that?

pami: Rhylie is the problem

pami: Rhylie is a old creep stalker me!!! And you dare to say that mysterybook controls me

And pami showering them with their anger While others agree too

You're just making yourself worse and worse every second.

You can't get away with harassing people that easily without punishment.

So I suggest you to delete your blog from here Rhylie

I'm not afraid of you, You coward

Face it I'm the winner in this drama

youtube

#galacticsomewhat #gacha community #gacha games #gacha case #gacha rant #Youtube

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daughterofheartshaven · 2 days ago

Text

This is a rant about the 2023 Doctor Who specials. I was typing up another post about why I do like a bunch of other Who stories then got distracted so decided to make this.

I normally really try to be positive about Doctor Who. Everyone's tastes are valid, and if you like the 2023 specials I am genuinely glad that you do! I don't think these specials are objectively bad or the Death of The Show or anything like that, I just personally Do Not Like Them and have decided I want to rant about why. If you want some insight into how I think about these stories (or also don't like them and want to see someone else talk about why they didn't work for her) I hope you enjoy! But if you don't wanna read something like that, skip this and I promise I'll be nicer next post.

So I should probably start by saying that I am a Known Thirteen Defender and consider The Power of the Doctor to be my favorite episode the show has done, so it's fair to say that these three specials were probably never gonna be my favorites following that.

I also wasn't a huge fan of the Tenth Doctor on tv. He's been redeemed in my eyes by Big Finish and Titan Comics, but his tv run didn't do it for me. This means, much as I think David Tennant is a cool person (from what I know about him anyway), his return wasn't something I was exited about. I was exited to see Ncuti Gatwa as the new Doctor, so my reaction to the reveal that nope! David Tennant again! was basically anger that Gatwa was getting benched (and, yes, I know that the whole reason they did this was that Gatwa was busy and couldn't have done these specials. Still doesn't change my emotional reaction to that twist).

And finally, I cannot express in words how much I was not interested in Donna Noble returning. Don't get me wrong, I think Donna is a fantastically written character. But the reason she is so fascinating is because she is deeply relatable. She is a character who the audience is expertly designed to relate to and someone they would like. Meanwhile I, and I cannot stress this enough, am nothing like Donna Noble. I think I would like the character a lot more if I felt like she contrasted with the other Tenth Doctor companions, but she's the third modern-day earth human in a row, and I'm not interested in that archetype. So the result is I just kind of think of Donna as "that time they did Tegan again" and that's that.

All of this is to say that I doubt I would have totally loved the specials even if they'd been great. I wasn't interested in the core concepts. But even beyond that, they dropped the ball in my eyes.

So, the Star Beast.

I actually really like this episode for most of its runtime. Its an adaptation of a comic story from the 70s, and it does a great job balancing being faithful to its source material and actually being a good 2020s tv episode. I'm maybe not the hugest fan of the trial scene - the comic has a much more action-oriented way it handles the reveal - but overall, I really think this episode does a good job. I also love Shirley, and she was basically replacing Osgood. I love Osgood. Selling me on a character who was Osgood's replacement was gonna be hard, and they actually did it. Shirley is great. Rose is also great, too - like, she's not that deep or interesting, but like. I cannot emphasize enough how seeing a trans woman of color matters. And she's written well enough for the most part.

Of course then it falls apart at the end. The Doctor has to return Donna's memories and then it turns out she isn't going to die after all! Because she gave some of this energy to her daughter! And she can just give up the rest!

Okay, I am against any sort of "Donna's memories return" plotline, because Donna losing her memories is the emotional core that underruns all of her time with the Tenth Doctor and his time after her. Like, in my opinion, that one fact - that Donna loses everything she grew into while traveling with the Doctor - is the emotional underpinning of the back half of the Tenth Doctor era, so removing that makes that whole arc seem a lot cheaper and shallower in retrospect. I was expecting the midwipe thing to be undone, but I was expecting it to be an arc over all three episodes.

And all of that would apply if they had pulled this off well, but as you can probably tell, I do not think they did that. The "Rose got some of the Metacrisis" twist is decently pulled off, but the "we can let the regeneration energy go" thing... after how much grief the Tenth Doctor went through over this stuff, the concept that this would just not occur to him because he was a man (??) makes no sense to me. If there was a viable solution, he would have found it. And saying that women just intuitively get this better is super confusing and off-putting. And, for the record, I am in fact a woman.

I don't really have much to say about Wild Blue Yonder. It's basically a great example of a Meh episode for me. I don't care for it, but that's mostly because a lot of it feels like "the Doctor and Donna, back as normal for a new adventure!" and like I said above this isn't gonna be all that interesting if I don't like Donna. The actual barebones plot - the episode's structures and twists - is pretty good, but I haven't gotten a chance to like the new Doctor yet and I'm not into the companion.

And then the Giggle comes around and it has the Doctor commit mitosis out of nowhere and robs Ncuti Gatwa of having a proper post-regeneration story and doesn't even utilize the guest characters and makes Donna and Mel seem Special To The Doctor instead of the companions who I actually like who were just on the show and like I'm sorry but why did we have to leave Yaz and Ace and Tegan in the dust like that and (takes a deep breath).

Okay, let's go through all of that, but more slowly.

Much like The Star Beast, my problems with The Giggle are mostly about how it finishes. I have less good things to say about the build-up, but there's nothing all that bad. My only gripe is that for having Kate and Shirley and Mel, none of those characters feel like they had to be there - none of them do much except explain the plot to the Doctor. They don't really help resolve it. Compare The Power of the Doctor, which utilized all of its guest stars incredibly well - each of them was crucial to the narrative and the story as presented would not work without any of those characters doing the things they had done. (I guess you could argue Graham as an exception, but I feel like his setting up of the support group at the very end was more than enough to justify his presence in the narrative). This leaves Kate, Shirley, and Mel feeling underused.

And then we get to the bigeneration scene. Okay, first of all, the concept came out of nowhere. I've seen people defend it by pointing out all of the other things in the show that came out of nowhere, but, like. They had the basic lore of how regeneration worked locked down back in the 70s. Messing with that now doesn't feel like adding something new to the mythos, it feels like messing with a preexisting thing for... reasons?

And like that's the thing about the bigeneration. I just don't understand why, narratively, this makes a better story. Like I don't like the Timeless Child stuff either, but I can see how Chris Chibnall was going for new narrative opportunities. I don't see how we can return to Fourteen after this story and make an interesting narrative out of it without trampling on the point this story is trying to make: that the Doctor deserves to retire for a bit.

(Which is deeply funny if you stop to remember the amount of times the Doctor has been stuck in one time and place for some reason, but I don't need to get into that one).

I'm bothered by bigeneration mostly because of the fact that they robbed Ncuti Gatwa of a post-regeneration story. Having the Doctor recover from a regeneration and work out who they are is something I really really value and skipping over that with Gatwa is a disservice to him and his Doctor, in my mind.

The catch game also feels weird because Doctor Who is all about winning by being smart and brave and kind. Being good at catch isn't really smart or good or kind, so it being the solution feels like a cop out.

And finally, the show having the Doctor go and live with Donna stung for me, because, how many times can I say it, I don't care about Donna. However, we just left Yaz (my favorite NuWho companion), Ace (my one of my favorite classic series companions), and Tegan (who I don't love quite as much as Ace but also love very much), so the show going out of the way to claim the Doctor changed his face because he needed to find Donna to "come home" specifically feels like a slap in the face for all three of them.

I think that last bit is the reason I stay salty about the Giggle even over a year later. I acknowledge that Donna is a great companion, and I don't think I have to like her for her to be great. But to put her above three of my favorite companions like that stings.

And what really kills it for me is that I can see such a great story in this trillogy.

Like, imagine the Star Beast going as seen, except Donna actually dies when we expect her to. She saved London. She saved her daughter. But she died to do it. The Doctor, dealing badly with his grief, tries to flee in his Tardis, but Rose manages to follow him on board, demanding answers as to why her mom is now dead.

This leads straight into Wild Blue Yonder. The Doctor wants to get Rose home but they're both grieving Donna and she doesn't trust him one jot and blames him for her mother's death. The Not-Things try to play into this - driving a wedge between Rose and the Doctor, but the two manage to work together to work out what's going on and escape with their lives. In the process, they both heal a little. The Doctor accepts that Donna made her choice, and Rose accepts that the Doctor didn't kill her mother.

And then when they return to Earth in the Giggle, they are able to work together to stop the Toymaker. At the end, the Doctor is shot and actually regenerates as normal, but he's able to use his regeneration as a distraction, giving Rose the room to defeat the Toymaker. She is then able to help him get through his post-regenerative process and they leave on good terms. Rose is still grieving her mother, but she can understand why Donna chose to travel with the Doctor and she makes sure he knows he is still welcome in their house.

Like, come on. It's the same plots, basically, but it actually has an emotional arc that lasts longer than one episode, is in line with prior emotional arcs, and uses the heavily advertised trans woman of color that we all got exited for instead of benching her after the first story and gives her a good deal of depth.

(Yes I know if RTD had killed Donna off and replaced her with a trans woman of color there would have been so much bigoted backlash but I still think it would have been a better story).

Okay, I'm done now. If you have any counterarguments to this or want to add on to any of this, I do want to hear it! One thing I love about Doctor Who is that different people love it for different reasons and love different things. If you're a fan of The Giggle and read this anyway, then massive respect for making your way through all of this and I'd love to see you talk about why you loved it so much!

#doctor who

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cheshiresense · 2 months ago

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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.

#bleach #kurosaki ichigo #coyote starrk #kyouraku shunsui #shunstarrk #myscrap #ichigo & starrk time travel verse #ok lbr out of the entire bleach cast who else would make the most sense to have two blades for their Zanpakutou in sealed form?#like even in canon Starrk was a dual wielder from the start (Kubo sure understood his audience when he threw him and Shunsui together lmao)#technically you could argue that even as an arrancar the “sealed state” of his Zanpakutou was already two “blades” him and Lilynette #because his power was never sealed in the swords that either of them had those were basically just decoration #so in this AU once he evolved enough and his soul was whole enough to produce a real Zanpakutou ofc it would manifest as a daishou pair #anyway this was fun to think about #and again it doesn't exactly fit with what i've written so far for this AU but you can just go with whichever version you feel like lol #also did i create yet another OC out of the blue? yes yes i did. i suppose we'll see if i do anything with her. fingers crossed for no lmao #i was going to make her a katori but then i was like cross be a little less obsessed with shunsui not everything has to tie back to him #so i just made up a name but who she is and what's her background idk tell me wat you think of her i guess #i do headcanon starrk is a natural at kidou because both kidou and ceros are basically reiatsu manipulation when it comes down to it #and starrk could fire ceros instantaneously all damn day from any part of his body without moving a single finger #i think that that control and skill would translate to kidou

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