White Wings and Soft Cloaks Part 6 Kisuke was still exhausted when he woke in the morning, his reiryoku only partially refilled and his side aching from the Hollow’s blow. He wished he could heal himself or, barring that, wished these strange singers could finish the healing for him, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen. He had no doubt that Erich and Alexis could sing him back to health, but evidence indicated that they…
White Wings and Soft Cloaks Part 6 Kisuke was still exhausted when he woke in the morning, his reiryoku only partially refilled and his side aching from the Hollow’s blow. He wished he could heal himself or, barring that, wished these strange singers could finish the healing for him, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen. He had no doubt that Erich and Alexis could sing him back to health, but evidence indicated that they…
Lol, I don't think I really count since I very very rarely mention anything OC related anymore. Or really talk on here at all =P but thanks
There’s always a lingering question that I ask myself, which is why do I, a cis bisexual woman, enjoy romance between two men so much?
There are easy answers, like that it’s just fetishizing. And like, I find men attractive, yes. But I also find women attractive. I don’t have a problem with enjoying het romance, assuming I can find good ones. I enjoy stories with female characters I can relate to.
But there’s something much deeper at play, IMO. A friend of mine who is a gender studies professor was the first person to point this out to me, but a lot of women enjoy m/m romance and gay porn because of the lack of women. It removes a source of pressure and sexism. Without any women present, you don’t have to constantly evaluate the sexism of their portrayal, or be reminded of negative experiences in your own life. It allows women to experience romance and especially sexuality without all the baggage that comes with it in our patriarchal society.
This was recently illustrated to me rather dramatically. I read a recommendation for a het romance. And it sounded cute, and came highly recommended. The tropes at play were fun. Until I read a snippet and realized this was a romance between a woman and her boss. I had a visceral negative reaction.
Instantly I’m thinking of sexual harassment stories I’ve read and heard from other women. I’m thinking of how uncomfortable it would be to have your boss develop feelings for you. How icky the power dynamics would be, etc.
And then I realized…this wouldn’t bother me if it were two men. Now, there’s no logical reason for that. Sexual harassment is just as wrong when its object is a man. But I know I’ve read fics with a similar premise and never thought about it. Because when it’s two men I can accept this is just a light romance, a fantasy, meant to be fun and sexy and not to represent the real world.
But I can’t when it’s a het relationship. There’s too much baggage there. Too much societal history of abuse. I can’t relax enough with the premise to enjoy that story.
Now some people can. And that’s fine. And some people are never going to be okay with power imbalances like that regardless of gender. That’s also fine. I don’t think having either reaction makes one morally superior. It’s okay to just enjoy light entertainment for what it is without going into deep analysis.
But it’s much more difficult for me, and I think for many women, to relax and enjoy romantic and sexual stories when they involve female characters. We’ve been burned too many times by shitty depictions, by shallow role models, by abuse portrayed as romantic. We have developed a stress response, a trauma response to heterosexual romance. We are hyper-reactive to a wide variety of triggers in regards to it. But removing women from the equation makes stories safer for us. And maybe it shouldn’t? In an ideal world? But for many of us, that’s the truth.
The same is true for het women and m/m visual porn too.
*stifles a sob* oh my god. This spoke to me in a way nothing else has.
@appears I fucking love your writing. ♥️
reblogging again because when the neilman says it too it feels extra supportive
actually the divide between what is and is not dr who canon is very straightforward. if I like it, its canon now. if i don’t like it doesn’t count.
the marie kondo approach to canon. does this story spark joy? no? throw it away
It's not you, it's my enemies + blind date GrimmIchi or..... Starrk/Byakuya :)
Starrk scans the restaurant as the host leads him through the first room and into a second, much quieter section. He’s here because someone is a dirty, dirty blackmailer and because Lilynette gave him the puppy-dog eyes.
(He’s ever-so-slightly pissed at Kurosaki for befriending Lilynette and letting his little sisters teach her that skill.)
(As if she wasn’t dangerous enough without it.)
He was promised good food, though, and that’s enough for him. The whole ‘blind date’ is probably going to turn out poorly – already he’s getting looks because of how he looks – but he’ll be a gentleman about it. Kurosaki did tell him that this date was more about getting the other person out of their head and less about romance but–
Starrk can read between the lines. Kurosaki is worried about the other person and is using Starrk to bait a reaction. Normally he’d be able to dredge up the strength for anger at being used so, but… Kurosaki had been more worried than Starrk had ever seen the boy.
(Not even the botched summoning that drew Starrk and Lilynette into the human world and bound them there had caused such a reaction.)
(Kurosaki had been worried then, too, but this… he was nearly fretting with it this time.)
The host leads him to a table near the back, where a man in a formal kimono waits. He’s pretty , Starrk acknowledges as he takes the man in, but there’s a shadow coiled around and through the man, a darkness that resonates with Starrk’s Aspect.
(He can see why Kurosaki would be worried about this man.)
(This is a dark solitude, lonely and aching and helpless in the face of the world.)
(It makes Starrk itch , makes him want to reach out and take , and damn the promises he made to Kurosaki when he was first summoned and bound.)
He shakes the desire off and settles into the seat across from the man he’s come to meet, lounging in place despite all human propriety. Annoyance flickers across the other man’s face, before smoothing back out into polite disinterest.
“I suppose you’re the one Kurosaki-san conned into this… charade,” the man says with a tiny twitch, lips thin and shoulders rigid.
“Kuchiki Byakuya.” Kuchiki looks down at the menu in front of him, jaw clenching and fingers twitching against the heavy paper. “I apologize for the trouble.”
Starrk shrugs and glances at the menu, using it to occupy his hands to prevent him from indulging in any unfortunate impulses. “He’s worried about you, and I can see why.”
Breath hisses through Kuchiki’s teeth, and the look he levels on Starrk is cold enough to freeze better men in their seat. “He doesn’t need to worry.”
He hums and props an elbow on the table, resting his chin in his hand as he focuses his senses on Kuchiki properly. Crushing loneliness coils around the man’s soul like a constrictor, aided by older, deeper wounds that gleam with foreign power. It’s a surprise that Kuchiki is as functional as he seems, but Starrk knows first hand the adaptability of humanity.
(Someone’s been busily trying to mold Kuchiki into a shape not his own.)
The waitress appears before Kuchiki’s frustration can rise too far – Starrk suspects the woman has experience dealing with… unfortunate dates – and Kuchiki swallows his emotions in favor of being polite. They order drinks, the woman suggests an appetizer and Kuchiki agrees, and then she strides away and leaves them to the uncomfortable silence that falls.
Starrk sighs and tilts his head just so , and is immediately rewarded with Kuchiki’s eyes widening as he spots the telltale bone circlet around the base of his neck. “Kurosaki has a right to be worried,” he repeats dryly, watching realization creep through Kuchiki’s expression.
“I’m not…” Kuchiki swallows and clenches his jaw, taking a moment to breathe while staring at the table between them. “Which one are you?”
“Solitude, isolation, loneliness. Take your pick.”
Kuchiki’s lips thin and he squeezes his eyes closed, hands settling in his lap and shoulders rigid. For a single heartbeat Starrk is able to see how shattered the man is, before he shudders and forces everything back. “I’m hardly alone,” he says, fixing Starrk with steady, empty eyes. It’s a mantra that Starrk is intimately familiar with. “My clan is large and I have a sister to care for.”
“It’s possible to be surrounded by people and still be alone,” Starrk reminds Kuchiki, ignoring the dark look that earns him. “Especially when your nature is being twisted by bindings.”
That draws Kuchiki up short. “Bindings?” he hisses, leaning forward and resting a hand atop the table, fingers splayed as he braces himself. “Explain yourself.”
“Exactly what I said.” Starrk spares a brief look at the tables around them, then leans forward and reaches out to hold Kuchiki’s hand, lacing their fingers together in a parody of intimacy.
Like this he can taste Kuchiki’s power, bent and twisted and still so very strong. He’s like one of those strange, ornamental trees that Starrk has never seen the appeal of, trained into unusual shapes and requiring constant maintenance. A single thought and the first of many tiny bindings shatters into glittering fragments that Starrk devours.
(It’s been years since he faced such a feast.)
(Ever since he devoured the final binding on Kurosaki’s soul, he’s been surviving on gifted power and the emotions given off by people succumbing to his Aspect of Death.)
Kuchiki shivers, tongue flicking out to wet his lips as he looks between their intertwined fingers and Starrk’s face. “I don’t think you should do that,” he says, voice strained. “If someone’s been casting bindings on a Clan Head, then they’re confident in their ability to get away with it. If they discover who and what you are, they’ll undoubtedly retaliate.”
“Let them.” Starrk tightens his grip on Kuchiki’s hand, not that the man is trying to pull away. He shatters the next tiny binding, consuming the fragments and letting the taste linger in his mind. It’s familiar in a distant way, akin to the sense he gets of Kuchiki’s power, and that tells him all he needs to know. “You know Kurosaki’s strength. If I tell him what your own Clan has done to you–”
Starrk hums and gives the neighboring tables a lazy, pointed look that has the nosy humans turning away. Once he’s certain that people have stopped staring, he arches an eyebrow at Kuchiki and stares in surprise as a faint blush colors the man’s pale cheeks. “Perhaps we should save this conversation for later,” he offers when it becomes clear that Kuchiki is too embarrassed to speak. “If you truly want me to do nothing, that’s fine. But I won’t hide this from Kurosaki.”
(He owes Kurosaki too much as it is.)
(Actually… maybe Kurosaki already knew.)
(Why else would he pester a Lord of Death into a blind date with a human mage?)
Kuchiki looks away from him, head angled down and eyes on the table. He’s fighting himself, Starrk suspects, his true nature struggling against the compliant form he’s been molded into.
Starrk shatters another little binding. Devours the fragments. Watches Kuchiki’s breathing hitch.
“I won’t be able to do more than the littlest ones like this,” Starrk drawls, resting his chin in his hand again and watching Kuchiki through hooded eyes. “If you want me to free you...”
Shatter-devour-shatter-devour--
“Please,” Kuchiki breathes out, barely giving voice to the word. He glances up and fixes Starrk with a look that’s steadier than he expected. There’s a flash of stubborn pride gleaming beneath determination, and Starrk knows in that instant that, for all the Elder’s efforts, they’ve never managed to fully twist Kuchiki to their will.
“Hm. Your place or mine?”
Kuchiki’s breath catches in his throat and color dusts his cheeks once more, making Starrk arch an eyebrow in surprise. He knows they’re supposedly on a date, but he’d not expected the man to react as if they were actually courting.
(Ah, but the man is drowning in himself, isolated and alone.)
(He remembers how it felt when Kurosaki reached out to him... if the boy had been a man, he might have reacted the same.)
“Yours is probably safest,” Kuchiki decides after a moment. He draws his composure around himself like a cloak and sits straight as their waitress approaches once more. “After...?”
“That’s fine.” Starrk sits back and gives his attention to their waitress, though he doesn’t release Kuchiki’s hand.
He was promised a good meal and now he has two in front of him.
He’d be a fool to turn down either.
“I have foiled seven assassination attempts this afternoon alone!”
“…Well. Thank you. Please continue to do so.”
“I just stopped myself from strangling you.”
“In my native language, the pronouns used for our Crown and the pronouns used for our pantheon of Gods is the same. You see, we consider the Crown to be a living Goddex.”
“And when the Crown dies?”
“A Goddex cannot die. Only be reborn. Such holds for our Crown.”
How to Write Non-binary Characters: Part II
PART TWO: the nitty gritty.
Non-binary in relation to Presentation. What are we talking about here when we say presentation?
Presentation in relation to gender is how a person chooses to look, dress, and act in relation to their culture’s gender norms. A person who wears dresses and makeup, speaks in a higher pitch, and daintily crosses their ankles is presenting in a feminine manner in most Western cultures because these are traits labeled as feminine in these particular cultures.
As mentioned in part I , non-binary people may choose to present themselves in many different ways.
Androgynous. The androgynous presentation (i.e. a presentation that is between masculine and feminine, presenting with traits ascribed to both) is commonly associated with non-binary people. Some non-binary people present as androgynous because it feels most natural to them, while others present as androgynous because it helps to inform the rest of the world of their gender.
Masculine or Feminine. Many non-binary people present as masculine or feminine despite being non-binary. They may present this way because they enjoy it and it feels natural, or because they grew up presenting that way and don’t have the time or means or desire to adjust, or because their best efforts would not allow them to present as androgynous without extreme measures they don’t feel the desire to undergo. But whatever the case, non-binary people who present as masculine or feminine are just as non-binary as those who present as androgynous!
A mix of presentations. Some non-binary people will mix up their presentation, either based on their mood, or on how they feel about their gender at that moment, or to keep their presentation similar around a specific group of people (such as work vs friends). This can mean presenting as masculine sometimes and feminine other times, or as androgynous sometimes and masculine or feminine others, or a mix of all three. This switch may happen in relatively even amounts, or the person may wish to usually present one way and on rare occasions another, or anything in between.
A word on gender dysphoria: non-binary people may or may not experience gender dysphoria (i.e. a feeling of unease or distress because their body does not match their gender identity). For non-binary people, this generally takes the form of wanting to be more androgynous. Whether or not a non-binary person experiences any dysphoria does not make them “more” or “less” non-binary. It is not in any way a qualification of non-binary-ness.
A word on gender nonconformity: Just because someone is gender nonconforming does not necissarily mean they are non-binary. Many binary queer people choose to present in ways that don’t conform to gender norms, and they have every right to do so. Sometimes gender nonconforming people are trying to decide whether they are truly binary or not. Whether they decide that they are binary, or non-binary, or trans, or make no decision at all, this is a perfectly respectable way to explore one’s gender.
Non-binary in relation to Pronouns.
Anonymous asked:
Coyote Starrk and Ulquiorra - 85 and 95?
(85: Innocent physical contact, 95: Sleep Intimacy)
(Every waking is a marvel.)
There’s an arm over his waist and a leg tucked between his own, hot breath on the back of his neck and a hint of sharp-edged bone digging into his spine. It’s verging on uncomfortable but at the same time...
(He can feel pain because he exists .)
Starrk grumbles and buries his face against the back of Ulquiorra’s neck, arm tightening around his waist and fragment of mask digging deeper with every motion.
(Their masks are both bane and boon, the source of their strength and the source of their pain, forever and always.)
“We need to rise,” Ulquiorra tells Starrk, gripping the other Hollow’s wrist. Starrk whines, pathetic like the dog Kurosaki had introduced Ulquiorra to when he’d asked, and burrows closer. “Lillynette will not remain away much longer.”
Starrk mumbles something against his neck, words incomprehensible but tone familiar. It’s... exasperating; an emotion that Ulquiorra is only just beginning to familiarize himself with.
(He... wonders, sometimes.)
(Wonders why he does this, why he returns to Starrk’s side again and again, but...)
(Well, of all of Aizen’s forces, only Starrk shares his experiences and... it’s something.)
“I’m not dealing with your excitable other half,” Ulquiorra says as he pries himself out of Starrk’s grip. His back feels unbearably cold without Starrk pressed against it, just like every morning he goes through this, but he rolls out of their shared bed without hesitation.
Starrk cracks open an eye to fix Ulquiorra with a look, even as he drags Ulquiorra’s pillow closer and tucks it against his chest. “One day I’ll get you to stay,” he mumbles into the fabric, then yawns and lets his eye close. “You’ll see.”
Ulquiorra scoffs and turns away to get dressed, ignoring the tiny spark of... something... brewing in the space where Inoue Orihime called his heart into being. He doesn’t know what it is but... it’s growing. Slowly. Infinitesimally. A grain of sand every time he spends the night with Starrk and wakes to warmth and existence that he never expected to have.
One day he’ll understand what it is.
akaluan reblogged corvidprompts Follow “Your Imperial Majesty,” the herald says “I come bearing a writ from the Kingdom of-”“Is it a marriage proposal?”“Uh- yes, your Majesty.”“Burn it.”#writing prompt
akaluan Follow loveasunnyday asked:Forgotten first meeting + locked in a room: Ichigo/Bucky Barnes. I will DIE if ichigo is the one who forgot instead of mr. Mindwipe(Now with ven art of Ichigo~)(So basically MCU-ish except that Steve didn’t lie about Tony’s parents, the Avengers are Found Family, and Bucky got brought in with a minimum of fuss. Civil War never happened here because people used their Words, Tony and Steve were a terrifying double-act to beat the Accords into a usable form, and now there are multiple superhero groups across the world under the umbrella of the Accords.)James slinks down the hallway, searching for a place to hide out for a while. He’s not very social anymore on the best of days, so being dragged to a ‘superhero meet and greet’ party was… not his favorite. If Steve hadn’t looked at him with those damn sad eyes of his–He huffs a sigh and shakes his head. He understands the reasoning, he does, but it doesn’t make it any less painful or overwhelming to be around so many unknown and dangerous people.Sure, they’re all supposed to be superheroes, vetted and approved by the Council, but… that doesn’t keep his damn paranoia from acting up.(He’s getting better, he knows he is, but sometimes it feels like he’s not, that he’ll never be better, and…)(Damnit, he needs to call his therapist before he spirals again.)James spies a door that’s ajar and hurries forward, slipping into the room and closing it behind him with a decisive click. Which… sounded more thorough than it should have.He scowls down at the handle and tries it. Finds the whole thing locked. Snorts at the sheer absurdity of his life because really? Really? A self-locking door in a mansion? It won’t be more than a few seconds to pick open but really?!“Come to hide out too?”James whirls back around and narrows his eyes at the sight of a familiar man lounging on a small couch, a thick, dusty-looking book in his hands. The man’s distinctive orange hair is pulled back in a long ponytail and he’s staring at James with faint amusement but absolutely no recognition. Which… alright. It has been a couple years since Ichigo Kurosaki dragged James’ disassociating ass four blocks to a hotel room and stayed with him until he was feeling better. Not everyone has such distinctive features – his metal arm is currently covered by a sleeve, after all – but it’s still… disappointing, somehow. He’d never expected to see the man again – they weren’t even friends – so he had no reason to be disappointed by anything!Just another damn side-effect of his fucking messed up brain.“I’ve met you before, haven’t I,” Ichigo says wryly, sticking a bookmark in his book and closing it to set aside, placing his reading glasses atop it as well. “You did that thing people do when I’m supposed to know them and don’t.”“Doesn’t matter. Never expected you to.” He gives a one-shouldered shrug and looks away, keeping Ichigo in the corner of his eye as he scans the room. It’s a small library of some sort, bookshelves filled floor to ceiling with old, expensive looking books. (How in the world did Ichigo feel so comfortable handling one of those books?)(This wasn’t his home… was it?)“Yeah, not buying it. I mean something to you.” Ichigo purses his lips and gives James a once-over, but there’s still no recognition in his eyes. “Where’d we meet?”“Little town in Romania. I was, uh… havin’ a moment.”Ichigo snorts, tension relaxing from his frame as he slouches against the side of the couch and props his chin on his hand. “That’s what they’re calling it these days, huh? Seemed like more than a moment to me, if I remember it right.” He eyes James, gaze lingering on his trimmed and tidy hair, his dress clothes, and his stance, before landing on his metal hand which is relaxed at his side instead of curled into a fist. “You look… better.”And just like that, it clicks. “You’re face-blind,” James blurts before he can stop himself, then winces and says, “Sorry, just… sorry. Came across the term while trying to figure out… me. Shouldn’t just assume–”“You’re not wrong,” Ichigo says, cutting him off. “Makes these sort of events… annoying. Everyone’s wearing something completely different, all the individualistic clues I look for are usually hidden, and everyone expects me to know people still. S’why Tatsuki’s the one who deals with people the most and doesn’t mind if I hide out once the night’s started.”“I get overwhelmed,” James offers. “Too many people all talkin’ at once, in too small an area.”“Dangerous people,” Ichigo adds with a small quirk of his lips. He gestures towards the other side of the couch and says, “Take a seat. Join me in hiding from the world.”The offer is tempting, especially since he’ll have to pick the lock in order to leave, and then he’ll have to find another room to hide in. (Besides, Ichigo’s already seen him breaking at the seams.)(This time maybe he can even enjoy the company.)James sits without a word, then blinks at the bare feet that immediately appear in his lap as Ichigo stretches out like some sort of giant, lanky cat. He observes Ichigo as the man settles his glasses on his face and picks up the book once again, as if he hadn’t just sprawled out across an almost-stranger’s lap.It’s strange, but it’s also... reassuring.(Not many people are so casual with him anymore.)He tentatively rests his real hand on Ichigo’s ankles, thumb brushing across warm skin. It feels nice to touch like this, skin-to-skin contact without any sort of expectation, mostly under his own control; Ichigo isn’t trapping him or forcing him to accept anything -- James could move the man’s feet off his lap as easily as breathing -- and Ichigo certainly isn’t expecting anything out of him.Ichigo’s gaze flicks up to meet his, thoughtful-considering-kind, and then he looks down again, perfectly at ease.James breathes out. Relaxes. Lets his mind drift.Wonders if Ichigo’s group is often invited to these ridiculous shindigs and -- if so -- how easy it will be to hunt the man down each time.(He could get used to this.)(That’s a scary thought.)(But maybe one he could learn to accept.)(He likes that idea.)#loveasunnyday#replies#bleach#mcu#bleach/mcu#ichigo/bucky
akaluan Follow Iiiiiiii caught the iiiiiiiick from my beloved husbaaaaaaaand#ugh#i hate headcolds#someone put me out of my misery
akaluan reblogged akaluan Follow Bare Your Fangs to the Dusk Part 5Benihime checks on Kisuke and finds the man desperately trying to write a simple letter. Clearly she needs to intervene.Benihime hauled herself up and onto the sill of the window of Erich’s office, following the thread of Kisuke’s presence, a bit surprised to find him still in his hunting-partner’s territory. Usually he left as soon as he managed to chase Erich from the room; nothing that Erich did here was in any way a surprise to Kisuke. It was only Erich that interested Kisuke, not the man’s paperwork. She…View On WordPress#bleach#bleach/vesperia#urahara kisuke
akaluan Follow Bare Your Fangs to the Dusk Part 5Benihime checks on Kisuke and finds the man desperately trying to write a simple letter. Clearly she needs to intervene.Benihime hauled herself up and onto the sill of the window of Erich’s office, following the thread of Kisuke’s presence, a bit surprised to find him still in his hunting-partner’s territory. Usually he left as soon as he managed to chase Erich from the room; nothing that Erich did here was in any way a surprise to Kisuke. It was only Erich that interested Kisuke, not the man’s paperwork. She…View On WordPress
akaluan Follow chershare asked:62 Love Confessor (Character A confessing their love for B to C) + 100 Accidentally Saving The Day Kaito/Hanataro Back to classic 😎Hanataro wants to cry.That’s… not really an unusual feeling, but it’s one he (for once) doesn’t have time or energy to indulge in. Not when Kaito is busy fighting for their lives and Ishida is busy trying to break the cage trapping the two of them and the other Karakura teens are caught in other cages scattered across the area.Nothing Ishida is doing is really helping, though; even his seele schneider just bounces right off the strange material without leaving a dent. It’s terrifying and it’s frustrating and Hanataro just wants to be back in the shoten and safe and able to curl up at Kaito’s side and–He crouches down in the center of the little cage and curls his arms around his legs. Breathes in. Out. Blinks back the tears that want to come.(He wants Kaito!)“It’ll be alright,” Ishida says awkwardly, kneeling in front of Hanataro. His free hand rises towards Hanataro then pauses, hovering in the space between them like he’s not really sure what he should be doing. “Senpai will figure it out.”Hanataro can’t resist a watery laugh at how predictable they both are, then hastily scrubs at his eyes when the action makes his tears spill over. He can’t be weak, not right now. “I… I know. Kaito-san is… Kaito-san can do anything,” he mumbles as he forces his breathing back in line. He’s been trapped more times than he can count over the decades. This is just one more–Kaito shouts, infuriated and in pain, and Hanataro jerks upright to stare in his direction. He clenches his hands and shifts his weight, wanting to rise, wanting to dart to Kaito’s side, wanting to help–“I’m glad Senpai has someone like you,” Ishida suddenly says, snapping Hanataro out of his narrowed focus.“You… what?” Hanataro blinks at Ishida in surprise. He’d never expected to hear something like that out of Ishida’s mouth; Ishida had always been the most protective of Kaito, staying close whenever he can and keeping his senses tuned towards the other whenever he can’t. To have Ishida say that to him…Ishida fidgets and frowns and looks away at last, standing up like an affronted feline and stalking back towards the cage. “I mean it,” he says before he makes a futile strike. Another. A third. He pauses in frustration and moves closer to frown at the cage, adding, “Senpai’s happier with you around. He never… he doesn’t ever look at you with that… that sad, wistful edge that he directs at the rest of us.”Hanataro swallows and pushes himself to his feet, slinking over to Ishida’s side since the other seems to be done attempting to brute-force his way through the cage. “He… he likes the rest of you j-just fine,” he tells Ishida as forcefully as he can, hoping the other believes him.Ishida scoffs. “I know. But he likes you better.”“He likes me different,” Hanataro says sternly, poking Ishida in the side when the other just gives him a disbelieving look. “He… it’s… we’re friends–”“We’re his friends too!”“–and the r-rest of you a-are like… like his s-siblings!” Hanataro forces out, trembling with the effort it takes to actually talk over Ishida. “It’s different!”Ishida gives him a suspicious look, then jerks his head back towards the cage. “You like him more than a friend does,” he says sourly, pressing a hand against the shimmering barrier as his reiatsu stirs. Hanataro blinks at the accusation, then nods slightly instead of denying it. “F-friends can lo-love each other, a-and… Kaito-san… Kaito-san n-needs friends m-more, right now.” Not that he is being entirely altruistic about it, he has to acknowledge; he is changing too, becoming stronger, becoming better, but he doesn’t feel… worthy yet. (Being Kaito’s friend is the most he feels capable of without hurting both of them in the process.)(But that’s alright; either they’ll both grow into it or they won’t, and either way Hanataro has no intention of losing his best friend over something so silly.)“I supp–”Kaito slams into the cage and slumps to the ground, clothing torn and bloodstained, hair slicked back from sweat. He’s panting, struggling to stand, and his reiatsu is wavering; something’s happened to him, something to disrupt his control, and he’s paying the price for it in blood.“Senpai!” “Kaito-san!”Hanataro shoulders Ishida aside without worrying about the consequences, falling to his knees and reaching out, kido forming around his hand. He tries to press it to Kaito’s back, slams into the shimmering barrier and–It pops like a soap bubble.Hanataro’s hand lands on Kaito’s back.Ishida gives a harsh, victorious cry and metal shrieks, part of the cage toppling away with a crash. The teen goes flying past them, teeth bared and seele schneider poised as he drives their foe back and back again, giving Hanataro space to breathe.He heals Kaito. Sweeps his gaze over the other cages.Wonders.“Get the others out,” Kaito orders as he pushes himself to his feet, shooting Hanataro a soft, grateful look. “We can do this. Together.”He nods, straightening up and flashing Kaito a bright smile as confidence burns in his chest. “I’ll get them!”“Thanks, Hanataro.”Hanataro takes a moment to watch Kaito launch himself back into battle, before turning away towards the cage holding Kurosaki-san. Everyone’s relying on him and for once… for once it doesn’t feel terrifying.He can do this.#cherfleur#replies#bleach#fanfiction#kaito/hanataro#pre-ship mostly#but yeah i think Hanataro's love starts early and he just... channels it into friendship-love#and Kaito doesn't really understand the concept of love at first so it takes him longer to realize#but they'll get there