#worth noting that it's gonna get rougher anyway over time but the process is in my experience notably slower

[eyrieofsynapses]

gentle reminder to air-dry your fleece clothing and wash it in cold water if you want it to stay nice and soft <3

(fleece is made out of synthetic fibers that will quite literally deform/melt in the heat of a dryer! and no you can't really see it but it's one of the things that makes it pill and get rough and scratchy.

"no dryer" also goes for most items of clothing with graphics. tbh I don't know the exact reason behind that one, I think it depends on how it was printed on, but both my and friends' experience has proven dryers will fuck graphics up, and manufacturers will tell you the same)

[serialreblogger]

Hey! I'm thinking of reading Dracula, and knowing that's your eternal hyperfixation, I wanted to ask your thoughts, if you had any comments, suggestions, ect.

HEY WHY DIDN’T I SEE THIS SOONER I’M SO SORRY FRIEND

okay okay okay okay (...several people are typing...) SO

the first thing you should be aware of when reading Dracula is that it’s quite Victorian, so you might find it easier, especially on a first read, to get an annotated version (the Norton Critical Edition version is quite good) that puts footnotes in to explain all the outdated references to like, London penny-meat merchants and stuff. I would say it’s significantly easier to read than Lord of the Rings, but because it was written 200 years ago the difference in language means it’s not a simple read. (However, if you have absolutely any attraction to the Gothic aesthetic, Dracula is so very much worth the brainpower to slog through the rougher sentences. Like. “...the courtyard of a vast ruined castle, from whose tall black windows came no ray of light, and whose broken battlements showed a jagged line against the moonlit sky.” The whole book is like that. A bit stilted to contemporary readers, but also breathtakingly spot-on in its Spooky Factor.)

the second thing you should be aware of is that Dracula is extremely gay, but in a Tormented Victorian Closeted way. There’s a part where Jonathan climbs out a window that just. It’s uh. The descriptions are very,, metaphorical-sounding. Again, the whole book is like that, and sometimes it’s very fun and sometimes (lookin at Lucy’s whole thing) it’s significantly more unsettling if you pay attention to the weirdly sexy descriptions of how the protagonists interact with the vampires, but I think that’s part of what I find so fascinating about Dracula--it’s unsettling and strange and the pieces don’t fit together clearly, and I still don’t know quite what to make of it, but all the same the feeling of what Stoker’s saying comes through quite clearly. There’s a reason why so many Dracula adaptations have this narrative of a protagonist falling in forbidden love with the tormented Vampyre, yknow? There’s something so unmistakeably sympathetic about the character of Dracula, even when the narrative of the story goes out of its way to establish that he has no redeeming qualities or even proper personhood, that he’s just a monster. Because there’s something about the story (even without getting into the whole “Mina and Jon murked their boss” thing) that makes a reader wonder if that’s really the whole truth. If there isn’t something tragic about Dracula. If there isn’t something in him, if not of goodness, then at least of sorrow, instead of only fear.

Anyway I digress but I think we all knew that was gonna happen; point is: Jonathan and Dracula definitely had sex, Mina and Lucy were definitely in love, Seward’s got something weird goin on with the old professor (and also he’s just very weird, full stop. sir. sir please stop experimenting on your asylum inmates. sir i know this is victorian england but please Do Not), and Quincey, well, Quincey is an American cowboy with a bowie knife, and I think that’s all we really need to know.

ok and! the third thing you should be aware of is The Racism. Imperialist Britain, yo. Bram Stoker was Irish so like, it isn’t half as bad as some other authors of his time period (Rudyard Kipling anyone), but the racism is real and I don’t wanna gloss over that. The g**sy slur is used with abandon for a huge assortment of people groups, there’s a tacit as well as overt acceptance of the idea that West is superior to East, and because the educational system where I grew up is a joke and I can only learn things if I accidentally fall down the wikipedia hole of researching the insect genus hemiptera, i genuinely still don’t know how accurate the extensive history of Romania recounted in the first third of the book actually is. Oh also casual and blatant anti-blackness is verbalized by a character at least once. I’m pretty sure the racism has a metaphorical place in the framework of Dracula’s storytelling, but I couldn’t tell you what it is because I am not going to bother putting myself in the mindset of a racist white Victorian man. This is the mindset I am trying to unlearn. So: read with caution, critical thinking, and the double knowledge that even as the narrators are meant to be unreliable, so too is the author himself.

Finally, regarding interpretation: so personally I’m running with the opinion that Dracula is, at least partly, a metaphor for Stoker’s own queerness and internal conflict re: being queer, being closeted, and watching the torture his friend Wilde went through when the wealthy father of Wilde’s lover set out to ruin his life for daring to love his son. Whether this is true or not (I think it’s true, but hey, that’s analysis, baby), you can’t understand Dracula without knowing the social context for it (as with all literature--the author isn’t dead, not if you want to know what they were saying), and the social context for it is:

- Stoker was friends with Wilde, growing only closer after Wilde was outed

- Wilde was outed, as I said, because the father of his lover was wealthy and powerful and full of the most virulent kind of hatred. This is especially interesting because of how many rich, powerful parents just straight up die in Dracula and leave the main characters with no legal issues and a ridiculous amount of money, which is the diametrical opposite of what happened to Wilde

- Stoker idolized his mentor Henry Irving. Irving was a paradigm of unconventional relationships and self-built family, in a world where divorcees and children born out of wedlock were things to be whispered about in scandalized tones, not people to love and embrace. Irving was also famous for thriving off of manipulating those close to him and pitting friends against each other. Given the painstakingly vivid description Stoker provides for his titular vampire and how closely it matches Irving’s own appearance and demeanor, Irving was widely understood even at the time of writing to be the chief inspiration for the character of Dracula

- the book is dedicated to Stoker’s close friend, Hall Caine, a fellow writer whose stories centered around love triangles and accumulation of sins which threaten to ruin everything, only to be redeemed by the simple act of human goodness

- Stoker was Irish, but not Catholic (he was a Protestant of the Church of Ireland, a division of the Anglican Church). This may come as a surprise when you read the book and see All The Catholicism, Just Everywhere. Religion is actually a key theme in Dracula--most of the main characters start out your typical Good Victorian Anglican Skeptics, and need to learn through a trial-by-fire to trust in the rituals and relics of the Catholic Church to save them from Dracula’s evilness. Which is interesting. Because not only do these characters start off as dismissive towards these “superstitions” (in the same way they dismiss the “superstitions” of the peasant class on the outskirts of Dracula’s domain), but the narrative telling us “these superstitions are actually true!” cannot be trusted, when you know the author’s own beliefs.

(Bram Stoker is not saying what his characters are saying. This is the first and most important rule to remember, if you want to figure out Dracula.)

- The second-most famous character in the novel, after Dracula himself, is Van Helsing, whose first name is Abraham. Note that “Bram” is a declension of Abraham. What does this mean? I legitimately have no idea. But it’d be a weird coincidence, right? Like what even is the thought process there? “Oh, yeah, what should I name this character that comes in, makes overtly homoerotic statements willy nilly, and encourages everyone to throw rationality out the window and stake some vampires using the Eucharist? hmmmm how about ‘Me’”

ok wait FINAL final note: you legitimately do not have to care about any of this. I love Dracula because it has gay vibes and I love trying to figure it out, like an archaeologist sifting through sentence structure to find fragments that match the patterns I already know from historical research; but that’s not why you should love Dracula. The book itself is just straight up fun to read. Like I said, Stoker absolutely nails the exact vibe of spookiness that I love, the eerieness and elegance and vague but vivid fear of a full moon crossed by clouds at midnight. The characters are intriguing, especially Quincey gosh I love Quincey Morris but they’re very,, sweet? if i can say that about people i, personally, suspect of murder? They come together and protect each other against the terrible threat that is Dracula, and you don’t get that half as often as I’d like in horror media. I don’t even know if Dracula could qualify as “horror” proper, because it’s not about the squeamish creeping discomfort that “horror” is meant to evoke, it’s not the appeal of staring at a train wreck--it’s not horrifying. It’s eerie. It’s Gothic. It has spires and vampires and found family and cowboys, and to be honest, I don’t know what could be better than that.

[skiesoftwilight]

Volunteers (Jason Todd)

This was a hard one to write, I can’t lie. I’m not used to taking requests so making somebody else’s ideas come to life was a challenge, but it was definitely worth it. In my opinion, this piece could be so much better, but I couldn’t figure out how to make it better, so I apologize to the Anon that requested it, I tried my best, but if you want me to try again, I will cause I’m a people pleaser lmao. Anyway, please enjoy!

Requested by: Anon

hey I love your writing! can I request a Jason Todd fic where the reader is training to be a surgeon or something so she's always secretly happy when the guys get injured because she gets to practice medicine and stuff on them and she's steadily become better than all of her colleagues please? thanks so much!!

Word Count: 1499

Warnings: none, unless you count my attempts at trying to allude to NSFW stuff lol

••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The moment Bruce hoped out of the batmobile wearing his signature scowl, you already knew that something or someone had caused the patrol to go awry. He stormed passed you and made his way to the batcomputer, aggressively typing away at the keys, not even bothering to greet Alfred who came to stand a couple feet behind him.

“You’re back early,” You pulled your phone out of your back pocket to check the time and took note that he was only gone for a couple of hours, “Where are the boys?”

“In the batmobile.” Bruce’s voice was barely audible; he barely spared you a glance as he kept it glued to the many monitors before him. You opened your mouth to ask him why they were still in it, but the sound of numerous painful groans filled your ears and pulled you to the back of the batmobile.

“What are you guys doing—” You stopped dead in your tracks and a harsh gasp fell from your lips as you came to stand at the back of the vehicle. Dick was trying to help Damian out of his seat, making sure not to bump his foot on anything, Tim was gripping his left wrist while his face sported a couple of cuts, and Jason was slumped forward, his face buried in his arms that were crossed over his abdomen as low groans fell from his mouth; everyone except Dick looked like a complete mess, “What the hell happened to you guys?”

“I’ll explain, just help me get them out of here, please?” Dick asked, giving you a pleading look while you just shook your head in agreement, helping Dick lift Damian onto his one good foot before directing them towards the infirmary. Tim was next as your gently gripped his other arm and pulled him to his feet and sent him on his way; he offered to help with Jason, but you didn’t want to injure himself any further.

You stared at Jason for a moment, concern clear in your gaze as you watched him struggle to sit upright. The moment he lifted his face to look at you, your heart sank. All around his domino mask was littered with cuts and scrapes and there was one area on his face that wasn’t bleeding or bruised.

“Come on, big guy,” You spoke softly, reaching for his arm. The moment your hand closed around his upper arm, he gritted his teeth and did his best to stop from yelling from the amount of pain he was experiencing. You jumped back, eyes with fear that you hurt him.

“Oh he’ll be alright, (Y/N),” Dick appeared by your side once more, folded his arms as he looked down at his brother, “He caused this and now he can deal with it.”

“What do you mean he caused this?” You narrowed your eyes at Dick, trying to get him to say more about what happened to them while out on patrol.

“Him and Damian were competing over something stupid while we were on a mission and they took it too far and dragged poor Tim into it.” Dick yanked Jason from his chair and dragged him over towards the infirmary bed with you in tow. “They completely botched the mission.”

“Is that why Bruce is brooding more than usual?” Dick nodded his head while he tossed Jason onto the bed and came to stand beside you, looking over all of the boys.

“I can’t stay, unfortunately; I got to head back out with Bruce to see if we can still make things right with what they screwed up,” Dick pointed at Jason and Damian before crossing his arms and turning to look back at you, “Wish me luck.”

You gave him a brief hug and let him go to Bruce while you turned to face the three boys sitting in the infirmary with pained expressions clear upon their battered faces. With a heavy sigh, you looked over each one, trying to get the full story and although they struggled to talk, there was only one person that seemed consistent in all their stories: Jason.

You walked over towards Jason with a look of disappointment, “Really, Jason?”

“What? What did I do now?”

“It’s what you didn’t do. Why did you think it would be a good idea to compete with a child over some stupid game? Especially while out on a mission?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him as he tried to adjust his body on the bed, but the pain he was having caused him to give up. “I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t do anything reckless while out on patrol.”

“It didn’t start off as reckless just so you know,” he stated, looking over at Damian with a slight glare before turning his head to look at you, “Things got out of hand when we got the mission and I do regret it, but then again I don’t because you are always looking to practice your medical skills so I kinda did you a favor.”

“They didn’t volunteer to be my patients, Jason,” You glared at him, shaking your head while turning to walk away from him, “Next time, think twice before you even act.”

“Where are you going? I thought you're supposed to treat the patients with the more severe injuries first?” He asked, looking at you with pleading eyes.

“You’ll live.”

Jason waited on the bed impatiently as you tended to Damian and Tim. You wrapped Damian’s sprained ankle and cleaned his cuts before moving on to Tim who had sprained his wrist and had to have a small cut stitched upon his cheek. Practicing your young child skills, you gave them both lollipops after treating them to keep them busy until you finished with Jason.

“Ow, Goddamnit,” Jason hollered, yanking his arm out of your grasp with a pained expression clear on his battered face, “Can you be any rougher?”

“Oh quiet, you like it rough,” Adding a wink to your response made him blush madly while Damian and Tim stared at you with wide eyes, trying to process that you actually said that in front of them; Jason was equally shocked as he never expected you to say that let alone around him and his family. “You’re being a big baby about it; just lay there and don’t move again or I’m gonna stick this needle somewhere you don’t want it to be.”

“My god, (Y/N), what has gotten into you?” Jason gasped, looking you up and down with confusion plain on his face, “A doctor certainly doesn’t talk to their patients the way you do.”

“Oh trust me, they do,” You patted his chest as you went to work on his face, “Especially if their patient is a regular.”

After you finished patching up Jason’s face, you helped him sit up on the bed before cleaning up the mess of medical supplies beside the bed. Jason watched you with a faint smile on his face, just thinking that he was glad to have found someone like you that could put up with the many stupid things he does.

“Hey, come here a moment, will you?” Jason beckoned you over, waving for you to come and sit in the chair beside the bed. When you came to just stand by him, he pulled you into a small and gentle hug before giving you a kiss on your cheek and lips. “Thank you, really. I promise I won’t do anything like this again.”

“Don’t promise,” You began, placing one of your hands against his chest, “You’ll break it again and I won’t really blame you ‘cause that’s just how you are.” You chuckled, giving him a peck on the cheek. Jason smiled at you and let his gaze fall on Damian; the smile he was sporting soon fell and a look of confusion took over.

“Wait a minute, how come that little heathen gets a sucker and I don’t?” Jason complained, pointing a finger at Damian, who was sitting across the room, reading a book with the sucker in the corner of his mouth; he looked up and shot Jason a smirk before returning back to his book. The pout he wore was soon replaced with a sly grin before turning to look at you, “Unless you got a sucker for me when we get home?”

It was your turn to blush madly as Jason sent you a smirk. Tim and Damian wore looks of disgust, before trying to help one another leave the room before the conversation turned even more graphic. Despite the blush on your cheeks, you toughened up and walked over to your bag and grabbed a sucker before walked back over to him and slapping it down in his hand with a tight smile.

“I guess not…” Jason’s voice faded as he squeezed the sucker in his hand with a look of pure disappointment and embarrassment clear on his battered face.

[recurring-polynya]

I thought about Ishida and Renji too much, and woke up at 5:30 yesterday morning with a fic in my brain. I thought it was gonna be another drabble, but I think it turned into a full story. Inspiration note at the end, to avoid an extremely mild spoiler.

~ The Letter of the Law ~

Uryuu has run afoul of the Soul Society criminal justice system. Fortunately, he has, uh, Renji.

(AO3 link)

Takes place immediately after 684. Presumes that Rukia and Renji got together sometime during the TYBW. Before works, too, if you prefer. (If that sort of thing piques your fancy, I got you covered.)

I will not apologize for any continuity errors, the TYBW was extremely confusing.

Rated T for language, because Renji.

~ ~ ~

Other shinigami would surely be here any minute. The Onmitsukidou, trying to get Aizen back under wraps? Squad 12 maybe?

Renji sighed. There was no way around it.

"Hey, Ishida?"

The kid looked at him, exhaustion permeating his entire being.

"Believe me, I don't like this any more than you do, but, uh," Renji rubbed the back of his neck, "you're under arrest."

Ishida blinked. "Come again?"

Renji sighed again. "Under my authority as a Lieutenant of the Gotei-13, I am detaining you under the custody of the Sixth Division, Kuchiki Byakuya, Captain."

"You can arrest people?" Ichigo asked, incredulously. "Can Rukia arrest people?"

"Kurosaki!" Ishida protested.

"Of course I can arrest people, I was arrestin' Rukia the first time you met me, you moron!"

"Oh, right.” Ichigo remembered to get offended. “C'mon, Renji, it's Uryuu! Don't be an ass about this."

Renji shook his head, a warning. "I'm telling you guys, you absolutely need me to be an--"

"QUINCY SCUM, YOU ARE UNDER ARREST--"

So it was the Onmitsukidou, after all. There were about a thousand of them swarming Aizen, but they hadn't forgotten about Ishida, either.

Renji hefted himself to his feet. Time to get to work. "Too late, boys, I've already arrested him."

Two black-clad ninja looked at each other, and back to Renji. "But we're supposed to arrest him."

Renji gave a big, genial shrug. "That's a pickle, now, isn't it?"

"What do you care, why not just give him to us?" one of the ninja suggested.

"Oh, we do things by the book over at the Sixth. Captain wouldn't like it if I just went around transferring prisoners without the proper paperwork. You can fill out a transfer request form, of course. You'll need your Captain or Vice-Captain to approve it, and then you can file it with the Sixth Division front office. I should warn you, though, we've been short-staffed lately, so we may not get to it right away."

"What. Is. Happening?" Ichigo murmured.

"Due process," Renji replied cheerfully. "Sorry, Uryuu, I'm gonna have to take you in. Don't worry, Ichigo, I won't let him outta my sight. I’m sure you’re gonna be real busy for the near future." Renji clapped Uryuu on the shoulder. "Don't you worry either. If anyone can utterly bog down the Gotei-13 legal process by fucking up paperwork... it's me."

~ ~ ~

"Here's a blanket," Renji said, shoving it between the bars. "And I brought you some books." He passed them through one at a time. "This one's historical fiction…this one's a literary novel that was real popular a few years ago...this one's non-fiction, about the history of zanjutsu...and here's some shitty vampire manga I keep around for when Rukia comes over. I didn't know what you liked, so I tried to bring over a bunch of different things."

"These are... your  books?"

Renji raised one eyebrow. "Whose else would they be?"

Ishida turned one of the books over his hand. They were cheaply printed paperbacks, the paper much rougher than you’d find in the Living World, the spines all utterly bent and creased to hell. "I, uh, didn't know they had popular books in Soul Society."

Renji narrowed his eyes. "You wouldn'ta guessed I read for fun, is what you mean."

Uryuu took a deep breath. "I assumed. I'm sorry." He turned over the historical novel curiously. "Looks like you’ve read this one a few times."

"That's my favorite book." Renji was thoughtful for a moment. “You got ‘Romance of the Three Kingdoms’ in the Living World, right? It’s a little like that.”

Uryuu raised both eyebrows. "I'll give it a try."

Renji shrugged. "I won't judge you if you read the vampire manga. Anything else I can get for ya? Tea? Playing cards? Get you some ink so you can work on your prison tats?"

"I'll, ah, pass. Um, is there a way to get someone's attention, if I need something?"

"Oh, I'm not leaving you alone down here."

Ishida blinked. “What?”

Renji leaned up against the bars of the cell. “You can trust any and all of the Squad 6 folks on duty down here, I hand-picked 'em. But Squad 2 and 12 are both after you, and they’re lying, tricky bastards, one and all. That’s to say nothing of any of your old Quincy pals we might not’ve caught. Everything outside of this barracks is chaos right now, and I’m not about to get caught on my laurels, so I’m just gonna bring my paperwork down here and hang out with my ol’ buddy Uryuu until the rest of the captains get back.”

“You give all your prisoners this much personal attention?”

Renji shrugged. “Only the ones who don’t make fun of my eyebrows.”

~ ~ ~

Renji leaned back so his chair balanced on the back two legs. The back thunked against the bars of the holding cell. "The problem is," he drawled, "that Squad 3 has  also  requested a prisoner transfer. And they got their paperwork in first."

The Squad 2 flunky clutched his approved Form PTR-0003-36A like a lifeline. "What do I do with this, then?"

"Oh, I'll take it," Renji offered, delicately plucking the crumpled form from the man's sweaty hands. "But since there's more than one request, it will require adjudication, which means I'll have to wait until my captain gets back."

"When will that be?" the Onmitsukidou squeaked.

"Hard to say," Renji shrugged, shaking his head. "As far as I know he's still in the Royal Realm, and I don't have any way to communicate with him directly."

"What if we got Squad 3 to retract their request?"

"Worth a try, I s'pose. I've already started processing it though, so they'll need to file a formal withdrawal, and they'll probably want to document that it was at the request of another squad, so made sure they attach a Schedule E. That’s ‘E’, like earwax, not ‘D’ like dead dodo."

The ninja slunk off, mumbling "E, not D" to himself.

"Or maybe it was Schedule D,” Renji replied airly, scratching his head. “Or maybe even Schedule C.  Who can keep them all straight? Anyhoo, Squad 12 will probably have submitted one of these by the time he gets Kira to back off," he mused, glancing over the form. "Oh, they spelled your name wrong, too, that'll gum things up for sure."

"What does Squad 3 want with me?" Uryuu asked suspiciously, from the other side of the bars.

"Nothin'. I just asked Kira to fill one out. For funsies. You probably owe that guy a drink." Renji thought for a moment. "Actually, I'm not sure he'll be drinking anytime soon. But I bet he's in the market for a real classy lookin' cape, or maybe, like, a caftan? Is that the right word?"

“A flowy garment that a woman of a certain age wears for drinking wine?”

“Yeah, yeah!” Renji nodded. “‘Zactly. Matsumoto has one.”

"Hmmm," Uryuu frowned. “I’ll think about it.” He tried to get back into his book, but after reading the same paragraph three times, he closed it. "There's really no way to communicate with the Royal Realm? I was just wondering when everyone-- I mean, if Inoue and Sado--"

"I absolutely did not say that,” Renji clarified. “I said there's no way t'contact  my Captain directly  , because that old fogey refuses to carry a spirit phone. If I wanna talk to him, I gotta call Rukia and get her to hand him  her  phone. What a pain, am I right? Anyway, I talked to 'em all this morning. They'll be back in about two days, maybe sooner."

~ ~ ~

Renji banged his way into the 6th Division front offices. "What is all the commotion up here?" he hollered.

"Renji!" Orihime cried, her voice cracking with relief.

Renji stopped cold. It seemed very weird to see his human friends here, in his office, in the place where he spent most of his time reviewing mission reports and working out tactical exercises with Captain Kuchiki and mainlining too-strong tea in order to stay awake until quitting time. Much weirder than seeing Ishida down in his holding cell.

"That's Assistant Captain Abarai to you, " Third Seat Ohno snapped peevishly.

Renji rolled his eyes so hard it was practically audible.

“We’re here to see Ishida,” Chad demanded. “He’s our friend.”

"This is not the Coordinated Relief Station! We do not have  visiting hours !" Ohno went on. He turned to Renji. "These ryouka want to see the prisoner, which, of course, is simply out of the question." As irritating as the guy was, Renji really had to hand it to ol’ Third Seat Ohno. He’d done an absolutely masterful job of gleefully kicking out all the secret police and mad scientists and generalized revenge seekers that had been mobbing the offices for days. The guy did not believe in exceptions. Which meant this was going to require some creativity.

"Yeeeeeahhh," Renji frowned. "We can't just let anyone go down there. Ishida's a dangerous criminal, you know, and a member of a widespread secret alliance and we got procedures to follow, and regulations stating the number of unauthorized personnel allowed in restricted areas…" As soon as he noticed Ohno close his eyes and start to nod along smugly, Renji started pointing to himself and miming punching himself in the face.

Chad might be soft-spoken, but he was not slow on the uptake. He pulled back his fist and slugged Renji in the jaw, at roughly 1/10 of his usual strength.

"That's assault of an officer!" Renji declared, trying to shake off the blow. 1/10 of a Chad punch was still an awful lot of punch.  "You're under arrest, I'm throwing you in the brig!"

Orihime was also not slow on the uptake, although she sometimes she got her exits confused and ended up on the wrong uptake. Her fist smashed into Ohno's nose at 100% of her full strength. "You'll never take me alive, coppers!" she yelled.

From the floor, Ohno whimpered.

"I will," Renji corrected her. "I will most definitely take you alive. I will take you down to the brig, where Uryuu is. Because you are also under arrest."

"Oh! Right!" Orihime cheerfully agreed.

"My noooose," wailed Ohno.

An hour later, Orihime and Chad departed Squad 6, released on their own recognizance.

 ~ ~ ~

"LIEUTENANT ABARAI!"

Renji's disheveled head poked out of Holding Cell B, blinking muzzily. His hair was a rat's nest, his jaw was blue with stubble, and his shihakusho looked distinctly  lived in.

Captain Kuchiki swept in on a breeze of cherry blossoms and efficiency. His silks were spotless, his hair perfect. He looked like he had just returned from a relaxing vacation. His sister trailed behind him, a 4’9” echo of his own perfection.

"What have I told you about napping in the holding cells?"

Renji hopped to attention. "Welcome back, sir! And if it's more than three consecutive hours, it's not a nap, it's plain ol' sleepin', sir."

"That's some nonsense, Lieutenant," Lieutenant Kuchiki chided him, making a face that she had clearly appropriated from her elder sibling.

"Welcome back, to you, too,  Lieutenant ," Renji replied, unable, or perhaps unwilling to keep the joy off his face at seeing her again.

"Why are you down here?" Byakuya demanded.

"Got a person of interest here, sir, didn't want to leave him unguarded."

Byakuya regarded him with lidded eyes. "Yes, I have already heard quite a bit of angry complaining about your 'person of interest' from  multiple  other captains."

"It's the paperwork, sir. It's a morass. But I want this done right, I refuse to rush. Crossin' every t, dottin' every i. That's the Squad 6 way, am I right?"

"Of course, Lieutenant. I know what a….stickler you are for these things."

"In fact, sir, I got in a request yesterday that I'd really like some of your expertise in processing. Bit complicated. Political."

Byakuya nodded. "Fine. Meet me upstairs in the office in ten minutes." He glanced sideways at Rukia, who was holding up one finger on her left hand and five on her right and mouthing the word “fifteen” hopefully. A strange, pained look crossed his face, as though he were trying to prevent some glaring new piece of information from actually making its way into his brain. Stubborn obliviousness appeared to win this round. "Make that fifteen minutes." He turned on his heel and glided out.

Rukia scowled at Renji, jerking her thumb toward Uryuu, who did not bother to look up from his book. "You given this idiot what for, yet?"

Renji shrugged. "Not really. I figured he’d get enough grief from everyone else. And he was with us in the end."

"I don't mean that! I mean worrying his friends, the jerk!"

"Rukia," Renji said gently, taking her hand in his. "Is this really how you want to spent the first fifteen minutes you’ve seen me in three days?"

Rukia stiffened, and her voice lowered to a whisper. "Did you tell him that we're…?" she pointed back and forth rapidly between the two of them, and jerked her head to the side twice meaningfully.

"Together?" Renji suggested. "The word is 'together.'"

"He wouldn't shut up about it," Uryuu added. "Congratulations." He turned a page. "Or condolences. One or the other."

Rukia made a face she usually made at Ichigo. "Thanks," she finally sputtered. Then she grabbed a fistful of Renji's kosode, and hauled him into Holding Cell B.

Uryuu turned another page. "Took you long enough."

 ~ ~ ~

"Glad to see everyone here with so much enthusiasm today," Captain-General Kyouraku said, clapping his hands. "The quicker we get started, the quicker we'll be done! Nanao, do you have my list?"

"There's been a request that item 7 be moved to the top of the agenda," Lieutenant Ise informed him as she passed over a sheet of paper.

His eyes skimmed it. "Well, that seems fine. I've received the approval to name Kuchiki Rukia as Acting Captain of the 13th Division. I know my good friend, Juushirou, had the utmost confidence in her, and I think it's a very appropriate appointment. Are there any objections?"

If there were, no one felt like a big enough jerk to voice them while the Captain-General was getting misty about his fallen companion.

"Wonderful! Congratulations, Kuchiki, please reach out to me if you need any assistance."

"Me," Nanao corrected. "Please reach out to me."

"Thank you, sir!" Rukia barked. "I will do my best!"

"Next...oh, dear. I guess we need to discuss the Ishida boy, who, apparently is in the custody of the Sixth Division?"

Captains Kurotsuchi and Soi Fon both started talking at once, and then Captain Otoribashi started in once someone mentioned Squad 3. Captain Hitsugaya and Acting-Captain Kuchiki both had strong opinions on the matter. Then Captain Hirako started talking because he liked to talk while other people were talking.

"All of this is moot.” The room went quiet. Even though he wasn’t particularly loud, people tended to shut up when Captain Kuchiki bothered to say something. “We have received a request for the prisoner's extradition, on the grounds that he has a right to be tried in his realm of origin, by his own people."

"What?!" Kurotsuchi squawked. "We don't have any diplomatic relations with the Quincy."

"The Quincy of the World of the Living, to be exact. My lieutenant will explain," Byakuya could barely keep the boredom out of his voice. Not that he was trying.

"Uh, technically, we do,” Renji explained. “There's a binding legal entity between Division 13 and all officially appointed shinigami substitutes, of which there is currently one, who happens to be of Quincy heritage and domiciles in the World of the Living."

"Oh, no," Soi Fon groaned.

Renji went on, "And furthermore, there's precedent, namely the previous Captain-General releasing the body of Fullbringer Kuujo Ginjou into Kurosaki Ichigo's custody." Renji blew air out of his cheeks. He hated talking in captains’ meetings.

"So Kurosaki Ichigo has already filed his request?" the Captain-General asked, bumping his hat aside to scratch his head.

"It's already been processed, it just needs my signature," Rukia replied. "Now that I am officially Acting-Captain." She gave a dirty look to the captains of 2 and 12.

"Well, that all seems very neat and tidy," Kyourakou congratulated, amid the groans of his captains. "Great job, everyone. Thanks for taking care of that. Uh....this was the Quincy that was on our side, right? The nice boy with the glasses?"

~ ~ ~

“I should thank you,” Uryuu said quietly, as Renji led him through the shattered streets of the Seireitei.

“Eh, you woulda done the same for me.”

Uryuu was very quiet.

Renji looked at the boy out of the corner of his eye. “Look, man. Every time we go anywhere, you say you aren’t gonna help and you hate shinigami and we ain’t your friends, and the rest of us have learned to ignore you, because you always turn up when the shit hits.” He palmed Uryuu’s head and shook it playfully a few times. “You should learn to ignore you, too. I tell ya, you woulda done the same for me.”

Uryuu snorted. “Still. Thanks.” He gave a small smile. “I liked your book, by the way. Is there any way to get books back and forth from the World of the Living? I think I have one you might like.”

“Oh yeah?” Renji asked, raising an eyebrow. “Talk to Yadamarou. I’ll give it a shot.”

Everyone was waiting in a neat line at the Senkaimon, when they crested the hill.

"Ya did it," Ichigo hollered on behalf of everyone. "You got yourself kicked outta Soul Society, just like you always wanted."

“Well,” Renji said, "I guess this is it for us." Then he twisted Uryuu into a headlock, and proceeded to noogie him to within an inch of his life. Everyone else watched, solemnly, while Uryuu squirmed and yelped. Finally, Renji let him free. "I release him into your custody, Acting-Captain Kuchiki."

"Thank you, Lieutenant Abarai." Rukia turned to her young friend, who was gripping his scalp and cowering. "I do not envy you. His knuckles are like friggin' boulders."

"Diamonds," Uryuu whimpered.

Then Rukia grabbed Ishida’s ear and  twisted.

"Owowoeewoow!"

She hauled him a few yards away from the group, and pulled his ear down to the level of his mouth. "Listen up, nerd. I am not planning some Kuchiki-ass, high society wedding without your help, you buttface. You have until that dummy over there decides to propose in order to get back in the good graces of the Gotei-13, you hear me?"

Uryuu tried to escape her iron grip and failed. "That could be the rest of my natural lifetime."

"It could be,” she agreed. “Or it could be  tomorrow . You know how he is. So get on it."

It struck Ishida that he  did know how Abarai was. And Kuchiki, as well. How had this happened? He blamed Kurosaki. He huffed. “Can’t you just go down to City Hall or whatever?”

Rukia looked hurt. “I didn’t say I didn’t  want  a fancy wedding. I just said I wanted you to help me with it. And y’know. Be there.”

“Oh,” Uryuu replied. “Oh. I”ll, uh...I’ll do my best.”

Rukia smiled. “Thanks.” She dragged him back over to the others and shoved him in the general direction of Ichigo. "Here you go, Substitute Shinigami and Quincy Cultural Attache, he's your problem now."

"Thank you, Shorty McCaptainface," Ichigo proclaimed formally. "Ishida Uryuu, you have been tried by a jury of your peers (that’s us), and been found guilty of  being a crummy friend. You have been sentenced to the following: You will come to the next three movie nights, even if it's Keigo's turn to pick the movie, and you will bring those weird little pink French cookies you made that one time!"

"They were macarons."

"You will answer your texts within 2 business days, even if it's just a smiley face!"

"You're the one who doesn't answer his texts for weeks on end."

"You will let us wear your cape for five minutes each while we make fun of you!"

Uryuu sighed.

"And you will promise to trust us and let us help you and not join our enemies in order to betray them without telling us first, you got it?!"

Uryuu sighed  louder. "I promise."

"And!" Orihime added, "you will bring it in for a  group hug!"

This had presumably been planned, because the three humans immediately tackled their friend in what looked like a well-practiced maneuver, with Orihime coming in from the back, Ichigo from the front, and Chad coming in last, enclosing everyone with his huge wingspan. Uryuu exhaled one final sigh of long-sufferance, the lament of a man cursed with excellent friends.

"Shinigami are not excused from this!" Chad rumbled, and suddenly, Rukia had wormed her way  into the middle , and Renji piled in opposite Chad.

"I promise I will be better," Uryuu from somewhere in the middle of all this.

"See that you do!" Ichigo shouted. "Also, I think you owe Renji, like, ten million yen in legal fees."

“I accept payment in little pink cookies!”

~ end

End note: While I was writing the group hug, I realized that I was just describing one of my all-time favorite pieces of fanart, by the very talented @chameshida I hope this fic has managed to capture a tiny fraction of that energy.