macklin celebrini has autism
RMH
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Show & Tell
taylor price
oozey mess
Claire Keane
tumblr dot com
hello vonnie
Jimmy Eat World
Sweet Seals For You, Always
izzy's playlists!
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
bliss lane
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
The Stonewall Inn
Keni
No title available
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seen from Germany
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@morscordiss
Here’s where you’ll find all masterlists for each fandom I’m apart of plus some popular stories.
Masterlists will be created as I post for those fandoms, so if it isn’t here yet that just means I haven’t made anything for it.
Request information page
Meet the author
Apocrypha (OW) [AO3, Tmblr]
Clandestine (OW) [AO3, Tmblr]
Parish, or Perish (OW) [AO3, Tmblr]
Overwatch
Bleach
Haikyuu!!
Baldur’s Gate 3
so, I am working on my main fic again and thought I might post a little teaser in the meantime… sneak peak of the rising action :b
You stood before him, once a paragon only to be a fraud. He let the same naïveté that murdered Mondatta in— and he would live.
If not for himself, than for his people— the persecuted.
“History will forgive me, even if they won’t.”
He alone would usher in the new age and forget of this meaningless folly.
These inherited flaws from humanity,
these bodies they shaped—
their pointless disagreements. These social constructs— only diseases of the human condition bestowed upon them like Ramese’s plagues.
An entire race gifted the beauty of the world only to squander it through their own lust for greed.
“I refuse to bide my time begging for humanities forgiveness while my people languish and live their lives in fear and squalor.”
I’m so sorry I’m back on my Walten files grind 😔currently the only brainworms in my head
How I feel after actually working on my main fic and my writing isn’t complete dogshit
Gabriel Reyes / Reaper x reader
Word count: 2.4k
Reading time: 6 mins
Authors note: holy moly did this take time to come out! I’m sorry that it took so long but, I do think it helped with the quality of my works. / edited to make it look prettier 🫶
Synopsis: A late night just as any other in your youth is brought back up after a familiar face makes a reappearance at your bar.
AO3 , Overwatch Masterlist
Your wrist had just started to hurt from cleaning a class, the old cloth in your hands worn from many uses on late nights just as this one.
The bar smelt of cleaning agents, and the beeswax you had buffed into each and every one of the leather seats only hours beforehand. Music played soft and low, lights remained dimmed low, guarding the atmosphere.
The bar itself had only a couple of patrons, such as a small party celebrating a birthday or milestone of some sort, a young couple sitting in a booth, and a couple of miscellaneous people in seemingly random spots. The sun had only just started to set on the venetian town, and just as traffic started to pick up, you spotted some interesting newcomers.
The first was a man with bronzed skin, short brown hair hidden by a hat, a bushy goatee with a matching pair of bushy brows, and two parallel facial scars that ran from his mid cheekbone to right before the bridge of his upturned, round nose. He looked weathered to say the least, his eyes bore bags and his jaw was almost tense for the entire night.
You greeted him as he sat down at the bar stool, placing himself between a wall and the end of the bar. He responded with a curt nod of acknowledgment and prattled off his order— a tall glass of whiskey. Though, he didn’t seem too keen on eye contact or conversation.
The next man was a young man with a black cowboy hat, no less than twenty years old, yet he already had a Marlboro red sticking out of the side of his mouth like it was candy won at a schoolyard.
Charm seeped out of him like molasses, and the first thing he said when he waltzed on over to the bar was, “ ‘nd what do I owe ya for yer unrequited attention?”
Getting a better look at the cowboy, you were able to discern his facial features. He had dark brown eyes, an arched nose with a flat head. His jawline was sharp but covered by mutton chops, and his lower lip was defined by a prominent soul patch.
“C’mon now, I know I don’t look that good.”
As any self respecting bartender does when southern-American charm gussied up in matching boots and hat flirts with you, his drinks suddenly had a bit more of a kick to them.
“Never thought that my guardian angel would have wings of whiskey, ‘nd a halo of cedar smoke, but by God, ain’t it fittin’.”
He winked at you, taking his drink gently in his own hands after you set it down at his table.
The next to walk in after the cowboy was a man covered in cybernetics, although the hoodie and sweatpants that he wore hid them well. He had black hair, his eyes were sharp like daggers, and you could tell by his body language that he was completely alert and possibly looking for a fight. He stayed put in a secluded booth, only kindly waving you over periodically throughout the night.
He’d only sometimes respond to your quiet questions, and those that he did respond to, he took extra time and care into his responses, often leaving pregnant pauses before answering.
What brought these three seemingly unknown people together was as the cowboy continued having drinks, he would wander off in the bar— often finding either random people, or as you could soon understand, his coworkers.
It started innocently enough, the man you quickly found the name of, Cassidy, started his trek over to the bar.
“Why don’t you look sour, Reyes? What didya find for yourself on the menu?”
The response Cassidy was given was said far too quietly for you to overhear, but what you could eavesdrop on was Cassidy’s response, “Christ, remove the stick up yer ass, ‘m tryin t’ have fun.”
After their little spat, you got to refill the man who you know knew the name of, Gabe’s— glass. He stated that the cowboy was a coworker of his, and described him as an annoying kid and alluded to a shadier past in which you didn’t push for anymore information on.
“He’s promising, misguided though— and correction isn’t something he takes easily to.”
“You talk about him like you used to be the same way.”
“Maybe you’re right, but if you are, then he’s gonna have more problems than me talking bad about him to the bartender later on in life.”
You shrugged in response, not readily having one available before shuffling off to check in on your other customers and backlogged orders.
Soon thereafter, there was another order from Cassidy, then another one from Gabe.
The sound of spurs hitting the floor, making their way over to you pulled you back to existence. He continued with his now tipsy rambling and ever growing compliments, “I sure do hope I see one of these drinks when ‘m down at the gates of hell— but knowin’ you ain’t slowing down on the pours yet makes me think I still have a chance for the pearly gates.”
Cassidy seemed to, as his tab grew larger and larger, bounce around the entirety of the bar— he didn’t speak to everybody, but he sure knew what everyone was doing.
As you understood more about the personalities of the men beholden in your bar, you decided to ask Cassidy most of your questions, finding his tongue loosened by the wrench of your heavy pours.
You soon found out that him and his coworkers were in Venice for work, when pushed on if he claimed they were apart of some government contracting agency, and that if he spoke more about it that, “yer pretty ears’ll melt right off, it’s all borin’ legal mumbo-jumbo anyways. Nothin’ y’gotta worry ‘bout.”
Gabe on the other hand, had his shoulders drop and it was like a burden had been lifted off of him, even just for a moment. He began to have the beginnings of a smile.
…
The bar you had once worked for as a bartender had now become yours— and funnily enough, you still buffed in beeswax into the old leather seats, and you still shined the bar top until you could see your reflection staring back at you.
But, Venice had changed. You had changed.
Your hair now held gray, your skin held wrinkles, and your hands held the wisdom of a thousand nights of bartending— and the arthritis to show for it.
You were now old and weary, and it seemed like Venice had a personality of its own— namely, the constant push and pull for power that had come from a young woman who starred in the Colosseo.
There was now a statue of her in Rialto, and now your bar had more patrons, yes, but more trouble
…
It had been for the best that Gabriel Reyes left Talon, and better to leave Italy as soon as possible.
He knew exactly the bounty he had on his head, and knew he still had the self preservation that came from his line of work. Yes, his life was miserable, and he had left his family behind, but he still found the strength to live on.
Albeit, recklessly.
He stayed within the shadows of Venice, slowly working his way to Rialto. It would take time before Vendetta would take hold of Talons supply chains and that time was more valuable than gold.
He knew exactly how much time he had.
He had enough time for a drink.
It would be the last time he’d be in Venice, and he did remember a bar with various spirits, good atmosphere, and good staff.
He retraced his steps from the days before the Venice incident, stumbling upon a very familiar storefront.
It still exists, he thought, and it looked pretty much the same from almost twenty years ago.
…
You scratched at a notebook in your hands, taking inventory of every single bottle that you had hidden under the counter. A shipment had just come in, and so, back to arduous paperwork you went.
That was, until you heard the bell ring.
At first you shot up, and looked around for your apron until you stopped, allowing your muscle memory to fade. Your stomach sank, and the hair on your arms stood up.
The door was locked.
“I let myself in, hope you don’t mind.”
A gauntleted hand rested on your shoulder, and all you could see were steel talons resting on top of your shirt.
You didn’t respond immediately, only ripping away your gaze from the intruder's grip and staring forward.
“What can I help you with?”
The man’s grip on your shoulder loosened, and you took that as an opportunity to turn around.
What first got your attention was the large shotguns that sat on his belt, the hilt fat and heavy. He looked to be carrying all sorts of ammunition, and was clad in various black pieces of clothing.
The second thing that got your attention was the bone-white mask with skull iconography on his face— everything else was obscured by a hood.
The last thing that caught your attention was the heavy, metallic boots he wore.
Boots that you should’ve heard.
“I remember you had a particular type of whiskey the last time I was here.”
Despite your back breaking out in a cold sweat, you pressed on, trying to assert yourself so you didn’t see the shop robbed or worse.
“I’ve just gotten a shipment in, and we’ve held the same whiskeys for our bars lifetime.”
He said nothing in response, instead walking from behind the bar counter to a seat at the corner of the bar.
“Nobody will bother us, I made sure to lock the door.”
You nodded, grabbing a clean glass before getting straight to work. An ice cube sat in a stout glass as you shook two dashes of angostura bitters, before you inserted your bar spoon to make the whiskey flow smoother into the glass.
You take some time to peel the skin off of a lemon, before adding it as garnish on the side.
“Here you go, sir.”
You watched in both shock and horror as your masked intruder lifted the mask up just enough for the glass to meet his lips. What was under the mask was desaturated skin covered in scars, a semi-kept beard, and the top of a flat nose.
You felt a sudden overwhelming feeling of Déjà vu.
“It’s even better than I remembered.”
He smiled, shooting the glass across the bar to you.
“I’d like another.”
…
He knew he didn’t have much time, and that Vendetta’s first edict would be of his head.
But, he also knew that she’d be naïve to assume any former members of Talon would stay in Italy for her regime.
And he wanted to numb the pain that O’Dorian so kindly gave him.
But you, the barkeep that stayed in the same place for twenty years was what made Gabriel curious.
You had gotten older, but so had he. You donned a few gray hairs while he had many.
He took a sip of his drink,
You pour just as heavy, and it was exactly what he needed to null the pain from a day spent running away from the same mistakes over, and over again.
“You stayed, how come?”
He watched closely as your face twisted with many microexpressions, before landing on one he was far too familiar with:
Duty, honor.
“I was left with the bar. Worked my way up.”
He swished the whiskey around in his mouth, the corners of his lips turned downwards.
“Seemed like you wanted to go places in life last time I spoke with you.”
“I don’t recall speaking with you—“
“Never said I looked the same.” He said with an underlying smugness.
“Then, what did you look like?”
“I came in with a cowboy and a ninja.”
Oh, that makes sense.
You do vaguely remember the night which he speaks, and the descriptions of the men almost escape you.
But, you remember because within days, they were all over the news.
Television, newspaper, any type of screen in the world was playing the news on Blackwatch and the man at the head of it all,
Gabriel Reyes.
“The man— the cowboy who said I made drinks well. You sat at the end of the bar, and you ordered a whiskey. I heard from the cowboy that your name was Gabe.”
Reaper doesn’t respond, instead he takes another sip.
“We spoke about him, something about him being like you—?”
“You don’t need to prove anything to me.”
“Then why are you here?” You queried, your shoulders square in an attempt to regain what little control you could have.
“The drinks are good,”
“Good enough to stop you from getting caught by Bartalotti’s daughter?”
“For a bartender, you’re awfully keen on sobering people up.”
You could now see the start of a scowl; the same one he held that night when talking about the cowboy.
“We all have our idiosyncrasies.”
Silence once more won the room, and you two stayed on opposite sides of the bar sitting in it.
Gabe broke it first.
“You’d never tell anyone. You know how to keep a secret.”
“But that isn’t a certainty.”
“It’ll protect the bar.”
You spun an ice-cube around in an empty glass, waiting for him to finish his drink; and to make him another.
“You’re correct, it would.” You replied.
“Then it seems we have an understanding.”
…
He was exactly where he once started, albeit in a better mood.
But, he was still hiding away from society in the shadows: just as he’d always been.
“Gabe, I thought you knew better than to leave your number with someone within Vendetta’s grasp.”
There was no sound of a translocator, no soft pitter-patter of footsteps, and no need to turn around to face his annoying ex-colleague.
“Sombra.” He hissed, jaw set in irritation just at the sound of her voice.
“You should be nicer to me now that we’re not coworkers anymore, y’know— despite the large wolf in the room.”
“And you should stick your nose in someone else’s business now that I’m free to retaliate.”
“Jeez, just playing Gabrielito. But you know I’m right.”
“They aren’t stupid.”
“No, but you are…”
He thought about reacting to her needless poking and prodding, thought about turning straight around and telling her exactly how he felt about her stalking.
But it wasn’t worth it, not in Rialto.
“Shut it.”
“Fine, only because you need to leave Italy, not go chum up to some random barkeep.”
Some updates on requests:
I currently have two OW requests that do take priority, and plan on having at least one of them release this week.
I’ve already taken a glance at the rest of my requests, and plan on releasing most of them within the next month, month 1/2 depending on how much content they have— this just depends on the ask tbh.
In the mean time, hope this gets yall hyped!
My name is Talis, but I mainly go by Tal, and sometimes by Travis
My pronouns are he/they/she
I’m 20 years old, and I turn 21 the end of September
I’m a huge musical nerd and can play a ton of instruments— mainly bass guitar, flute, saxophone, and clarinet.
I play a bunch of games, but the ones I play the most as of now are Overwatch and Minecraft. My favorite video game of all time is oblivion!
I watch a bunch of anime, and my current favorite is the summer Hikaru died
Currently my favorite song is anti-gravity romance by incubus!
I <3 spicy food.
I cosplay sometimes
I’m alternative, I don’t really put too much else of a label on my style but I take inspiration from emo, goth, and punk subcultures quite a bit!
I play a bunch of D&D, and I play a tiefling oath of watchers paladin of kord in my main campaign! On my side campaigns I play a dhampir college of lore bard, circle of spores half-elf druid, and I have a drow fiend-patron warlock sitting around for the end of a campaign.
I love dogs, and have had many in my lifetime. I’ve also had three rabbits!
I’m down to be moots, just ask tbh!
thinking about doing a meet the author type of thing but idk
rage-induced content may drop in a business day bc I played the actual worst game of dungeons and dragons that i have ever encountered in my 20 years
i do plan on doing a summerween thingy within the next couple of months, idk exactly when but if y'all wanna see specific characters lmk!
not even close to Halloween n I have so many spooky oneshot ideas smh
half of fic research is rereading the fandom wiki four times for obscure character info and the other half is googling shit like “when did we start using drywall in home construction”
Good news: requests are completely open again!
If you’re curious for who/what fandoms I write for, check this out.
Hello ! Can I ask for a Shinji × fem!reader where the reader kinda gets back at Shinji for disappearing for a century by pretending to have amnesia ? Truth is she just wants to see him yearn for her and see his efforts to win her back 🤭 Eventually she tells him the truth so they have a happy ending
(Ngl I just want to see Shinji yearning and being a simp for his girl)
I hope it's not too specific and thank you !
Shinji Hirako x fem! Reader
Word count: 6.1k
Reading time: 20 mins
Author's note: special thank you to this request for letting me flex my jazz knowledge. Also, this was a super fun request, I love the scenario itself so much! Idk if I should apologize for writing so much???? But if this wasn’t what you had in mind I am so sorry.
Synopsis: Falling in love with a captain of the Gotei Thirteen Court Guard Squads was hard enough, but what was even harder was grieving him. After one-hundred and ten years of presuming Shinji Hirako is dead, he returns to the Seireitei. In your newly ungrounded grief decide to pretend like you have amnesia to see how he responds after all of those years leaving you hanging. You soon find out that it may be more than you bargained for.
Inspiration: I’ve Had my Moments (Django Reinhardt), Nightmare (Artie Shaw), Some Other Spring (Billie Holiday), Superstition (Stevie Wonder), I’m Lost (Nat “King” Cole), A Pretty Girl Is Like A Melody (Django Reinhardt)
AO3, Bleach Masterlist , Request Guidelines
I’ve Had my Moments
It was a beautiful day in the Seireitei, short gusts of wind shook the trees around the barracks, the zephyr carried soft scents of florals, wood, and the scent of pond water.
It was the perfect day to sit back and relax, shrug off your duties as a member of the Gotei thirteen for a day. Today should’ve been a time to celebrate the seasons, go drinking with your friends.
“Gorgeous out, ain’t it?”
The casual drawl which hit your ear and long, blonde hair that ticked your cheek told you exactly who was behind you.
Shinji put his long arm around your shoulder and leaned in, poking a bit of fun at you for getting lost in your surroundings.
“Don’t patronize me, please. But… yeah, it actually is.”
He chuckled, flicking your nose, his toothy grin starting to form for the day.
“Yeah, I know. If you think the outside ‘s pretty imagine how pretty you must be—“
“Aren’t you laying it on thick, Shinji? I feel like you might want something from me…”
“I do, but not in the way yer thinkin’ sweetheart.”
“Shinji,“ You pause,
“My love, my life— y’gotta just hear me out on this,”
He lowers his voice and glances around the both of you,
“he’s been actin’ so weird—”
You smack your hand over his mouth, shushing him and pulling him inside of your barracks by his captain's haori like a cat pulling a kitten by the scruff of its neck. He couldn’t seriously think saying this out in the open is a good idea, let alone the discipline he’d get if he was caught.
He struggles against your hand, floundering out of your grip before waving his hands around with vigor. He fixes his hair and re-centers his haori.
“Babe, ya gotta trust me on this, I swear that kids got no soul— which does sound pretty harsh but there’s somethin’ wrong with him.”
“It’s not that I don’t believe you, Shinji. You can’t be this crass though, you started this in public. If he’s as scary as you claim him to be then…”
“He’s already watchin’ us.”
You both pause, the room's air suddenly thick, cold, and full of tension.
“Specifically you. Thank you for being semi-intelligent.”
You huff at him, turning your head away to keep watch of the door, all while trying to keep the mood light.
“ ‘m not stupid! I caught onto him!”
His whining was endearing but you couldn’t help but see your smile leave too soon, it had been seemingly years of this exact conversation. It started simply enough yet it only continued to evolve. Now, any talk of Aizen was punctuated by this awful feeling between the both of you that neither could put a finger to.
“Doll, y’know it’s bad when Sakanade likes someone! That’s how I knew y’were the one for me, cause she hated ya!”
“Shinji, please.”
He gathered himself at your plea, all playful banter replaced with the same, looming feeling of dread and foreboding as every conversation before had. Shinji took a step towards you and grabbed onto your hands gingerly, pulling you into a tight embrace.
“If anythin’ ever happens to me, please, assume it was him. I don’t care how farfetched it seems, doll and I hate making ya worry— especially ‘bout lil’ ol me.”
His breath ghosts on your ears, long blonde hair tickling your cheek once more. Yet, his hair didn’t feel as soft, as safe.
“Okay, fine. I think you’re being stupid, by the way.”
“ ‘nd I’m never afraid of bein’ stupid in your face, sweetheart.”
While Shinji was trying to regain his confidence at your masterfully placed jabs, your smile returned, somber but earnest. His shoulders drop just the slightest amount, and for a moment, this encounter is one of the small moments that harbor his love for you.
Sneaky kisses in hallways, his hand tangling itself in yours, a short dance held in his quarters while a vinyl spins around in the same motions as you two do.
“Now y’gotta act like you just kissed me stupid.”
“What?”
“I know you’ve got an actress in ya, time for her to make an appearance, unless y’want to raise suspicion.”
He gestured towards the door, he was about to stumble out.
You had little choice other than to join in his shenanigans and pressed chaste kisses all across his face before opening the sliding door and shoving him out.
He stumbled a bit, but caught himself at the perfect time. It was a shockingly ironclad performance by him, you started to wonder how many times he had done this…
“Woo! Ain’t I a lucky guy? Oh hey— Mugaruma! Why ya lookin’ at me like that?”
Shinji smiled and waved at the annoyed captain, but took the time to make one last cursory glance around himself. He couldn’t feel Aizen's spiritual pressure, but he could feel Sakanade’s spiteful laughing through the hilt.
Bastard ain’t got nothin’ on me.
Nightmare
Quick knocks rapped on Shinji’s door, waking you both from the little slumber you’d gotten, shortly followed by a curt, polite voice.
“Captain Hirako,” Lieutenant Aizen spoke through your sliding door, “You've been asked for a summons by Head Captain Yamamoto, hurry over immediately, please.”
Shinji’s blood ran cold. What should’ve been a smile on his face was a soured frown,
“Yeah yeah, thanks. ‘M on my way faster than y’know it.”
Shinji didn’t hide any of his passive aggression to his otherwise banal lieutenant. His messy hair soon combed out with his fingers as he snuck out of bed and slunk over to his uniform and zanpakto.
You rose slightly from your shared bed, rubbing your eyes, trying to ignore the pit in your stomach forming.
“Did he mention summoning you so late at all today?”
Shinji softened instantly, the moonlight illuminated his face as he continued dressing.
“No, I’ve heard nothin’ from the head captain, but whatever it is, better be dead serious. Nothin’ interrupts this ‘n gets away with it.”
“Shinji, we both signed up for this. We can deal with it.“
“ ‘m just not happy that it was him, doll. I coulda dealt with Hiyori throwing mop water over m’head if it meant he wasn’t near where we sleep.”
“Love, just focus on getting to the captains meeting.”
“I will, ‘m sorry sweetheart. I’ll be back before ya know it— okay?”
“Of course, I love you Shinji.”
“I love you more, to the moon ‘n back doll.”
…
It had been for a good reason, Shinji thought to himself, these disappearances had been getting stranger.
But when Genryusai brought up that Captain Mugaruma had been missing, that caught Shinji’s attention— no sign of their spiritual pressure to be found anywhere.
Whatever had been making these Rukongai residents disappear had the capacity to take our captains, and that within itself was terrifying. He did find it somewhat sad that the newest Captain, a young Kisuke Urahara, was barred from attending the search, but he did make a case for his lieutenant to grab samples, and Shinji appreciated the guts he had. But, any further thought Shinji took made him agree with Yoruichi.
The forest itself was dark, the wind shrieked in Shinji’s ears with how fast he had been running.
But it was quiet, too quiet. Shinji could feel Sakanade’s presence through his hilt once more, specifically he could feel its sick glee.
Lovely zanpakto I got, thought Shinji, creepin’ its own user out from its sick, utter delight.
As he made it to the investigation site, sword drawn and ready for action, he found himself attacked by a hollowfied Hiyori, if that was even possible.
The dread that had been slowly building in his stomach that week had turned out to be correct, as a hollow that looked awfully familiar had arrived—
But, so did his team.
He’d make it home, he’d make it back— and once he did, you’d both go out on a date. A real one, to a records shop or a jazz club. Something nice to take his mind off whatever the hell happened here.
Shinji steeled himself, for Hiyori, for Mugaruma, and for you, hopefully sleeping soundly, awaiting for his return.
…
His heart was beating out of his chest, breaths labored and slowing. His ego was almost as bruised as his body was, although he found it ironic that soon enough both would be lost to hollowification.
It’s slower on me, though. I’m keeping calm. I need to focus— I need to see her again—
He gripped Sakanade with newfound vigor. It didn’t matter how cold he had become, the terrifying mask blinding him partially and the excruciating pain that had been ripping his mind and body apart.
Focus, deep breaths. This is bigger than you— bigger than everyone here. If I can just hold on a little longer I can make him pay.
Every swing was met by his bodies slowed transformation, and every time he swung he could see his compatriots slowly being subjected to this sick torture.
He couldn’t do anything about that, he wasn’t some crazy healer. He didn’t even know if Unohana could do anything about this.
His breaths became shallower by the minute. Each time that Sakanade met Aizen’s Kyoka Suigetsu, he could feel his body betraying him at the most important moments.
“I could make it look like her if you’d like, Captain Hirako.”
He coughed in response, Aizen’s taunting being successful despite the harsh grasp Shinji had on his own emotions.
“No, you’ve done enough.”
“Have I? Or have you done too little?”
Shinji looks behind him, only to see that Aizen was correct, his comrades are also going through hollowification.
Slow down, focus. Nothing matters right now other than staying calm. C’mon— keep your eye on his blade, on your surroundings. Don’t give up yet, you don’t deserve to give up when so many are already gone.
He can hear Hiyori’s pained wails behind him and he just can’t stay calm anymore—
He swung once again at Aizen, but was met by Kaname Tousen’s blade cutting deep into his body.
“ ‘m not gonna let you get away with this, not after what you’ve done!”
He could feel the hollowification happen through his lungs, fuck, maybe even his bones? He knew how painful death was and yet this situation was never on his mind.
“I’m impressed you’re still holding on, Captain Hirako. Sadly, it doesn’t matter in the end, you’ll still die.”
His eyes are glassy, he can count his breaths. He doesn’t feel like he’s in his own body anymore. It’s terrifying, earth shattering. He’s managing to parry this kid— but it just isn’t enough, it doesn’t feel like enough.
An explosion happens at the pure energy of the clash of their blades, Shinji can feel pain spreading across the length of his shoulder.
Kaname Tōsen walks through the rubble, victorious.
“I apologize, Aizen, I’ll kill him immediately.”
“No need,” responded Aizen, “I had already anticipated this.”
Aizen scanned the battlefield, taking note of all the soul reapers and their varying transformations.
“Hollowification takes different amounts of time depending on the person, interesting.”
Interesting? This is interesting? Watching people who you’re supposed to respect— look up to— dying is interesting?
Shinji coughed up white fluid, resuming his hollowification.
“Well, as amusing as seeing you in this state is, your purpose has been fulfilled,”
Aizen drew Kyoka Suigetsu once more.
“Captain Hirako, you’ve been an amazing test subject—”
“Fuck you, bastard!”
He once more coughs, as white liquid spews out of Shinji’s mouth, he curses his lieutenant for what he believed would have been a final time.
And everything goes white.
He could hear laughing— it was yours.
And it was sunny outside, you stood, laughing, haloed by rays of sun peaking through open windows.
As if you weren’t picked out of the night sky, the star you were.
This was where he wanted to be, with you. Putting flowers in your hair, sipping on tea, turning a vinyl. Smooth jazz flowing through the room while he cracked terrible jokes just to see your cheeks warm, to see your eyes crinkle with joy.
He always was a sucker for a lady with a beautiful smile, and he always would be.
And then, there was nothing. You were no longer there.
Instead, he was met with a white version of himself, wielding Sakanade.
“What, ya really thought that this would end with some fairytale dream? It ain’t like that for us anymore.”
Some Other Spring
You hadn’t been able to cry for days now.
You weren’t even able to attend the trial of the new Captain, Keiske Urahara. Days had all melted into one, long year. Maybe you had been mourning for an entire year. You played the records he gave you until they broke, despite any noise complaints.
Some other spring, I’ll try to love, now I still cling to faded blossoms…
Your own captain, Rose Ootoribashi had also been lost the same night as your lover. It had been completely devastating for your squad but soon enough, a young man who had excelled in the Academy had been chosen to be the new captain, and so did a lieutenant: captain of squad three, Gin Ichimaru and lieutenant of squad three, Izuru Kira.
Fresh wind worn, left crushed and torn, like the love affair I mourn…
You had been lucky enough to be on friendly terms with Kira, as Gin reminded you too much of your now deceased lover. He had a deceptive nature, and an odd relationship with the lieutenant of squad ten, Rangiku Matsumoto.
Some other spring, when twilight falls…
Gin had an even weirder relationship with Sosuke Aizen, hopefully it meant nothing. Even if it did, there wasn’t much you could do about it.
Will the nights bring another to me?
Thinking of Aizen, he had been the first to send his apologies to you. Of course, in lieu of your loss you accepted them. Yet, you couldn’t stop thinking about what Shinji had told you only months before. All bouquets of flowers ended up given to other girls, all letters and notes from him became trashed after you slid the shoji door shut.
The vinyl had been found broken, most likely from repeated use. But something told you it was Aizen’s way of sending a message, at least if Shinji was correct about him.
Aizen must’ve picked up on the sour taste that he had left in your mouth, but never crossed any boundaries that you knew of. Soon enough, they stopped. When asked about why you seemed cold towards him he said the same thing:
“Well, late captain Hirako wasn’t too fond of me: I guess he may have given her the wrong idea of me. It’s sad, but it isn’t a big deal, she’s still grieving— give her some grace.”
Everytime he was in a room you’d watch him like a hawk, almost as if losing Shinji made you want to keep a part of himself; even if it was his hatred for his lieutenant, especially after he took his position and the third seat, Hinamori Momo became lieutenant.
You’d hear the young women and men of the Seireitei talk about how charming Aizen was, and before you knew it, you were the old woman who hated the attractive, kind, ever sweet captain Aizen.
You wore the ill-intentioned nickname like a badge of honor.
During this time of grief, you had started drinking with Rangiku Matsumoto and Captain Shunsui Kyoraku.
Matsumoto had something wrong with her, surely. But she had turned out to be a wonderful confidant and livened up a room with ease. No matter how sad you found yourself laughing at her antics, and she in her beauty and grace, helped you out of your depression— especially when she would offer to buy you saké for putting up with Gin.
Shunsui Kyoraku was exactly as you knew him before for the most part, he was an old man who loved flirting with women and you were no exception, despite your status amongst the Seireitei. But, on nights that you drank too much, cried too hard, and missed Shinji too much, he had been there not to comfort, but to listen.
You assumed he knew your pain too intimately, and out of respect for him never asked about it. He seemed to notice and appreciate you for it.
Soon enough, years turned into decades. You and your drinking buddies became a sore thumb at every bar you found yourselves at, and with shocking quickness you were back doing your duties as a member of the Gotei thirteen court guard squads.
But every now and then, you’d pull Kira aside and speak to him. He’d listen, with the same sad eyes he had when he was younger. You could also tell some days that his captain would listen in on you two, and some days even he’d show a weird kindness towards you.
On those days, you preferred to stay busy.
It had gotten to a point that every captain of the Gotei thirteen had spoken to you directly about your loss.
But the two that had been the kindest were Captain Kaname Tousen and Sajin Komamura.
They maintained a polite distance to your grief, but always offered a hand to help you in your distress. After you spoke to both of them and Kaname had to return to his duties, Komamura stayed back to tell you that Tousen had a similar situation happen to him but left it at that.
You appreciated his restraint in some ways, and in others you wished he never brought him up.
Soon thereafter, you played the record player he got for you less and less.
You began to be reborn, anew.
And soon you began to sing softly, only to yourself the songs the vinyls once held,
And love with another spring…
…
Shinji found himself along with the other visoreds in this odd familial relationship after he left the company of ex-Captains Urahara and Yoruichi.
And, they found themselves in this odd relationship with the new world they were in. Some of them could keep a job in the human world, others couldn’t. So, they found a small abandoned warehouse that Hachigen could easily put a barrier around to keep each other protected from the watchful eyes of Sosuke Aizen.
Everyone trained together, shared a kitchen, shared manga (even when Love would spoil every single chapter), and now shared a life.
Obviously, Shinji went out into the world a lot— same with Lisa Yadoumaru. When he’d go into the city and find a niche, underground record spot and sift through the vinyls he’d think of you.
Thelonious monk, flip, flip, flip,
John Coltrane, flip, flip, flip, flip,
Artie Shaw… in the wrong section, but good enough— flip, flip, flip, flip,
Duke Ellington, flip, flip,
Billie Holliday, flip, flip, flip, flip,
Grover Washington Jr, flip,
He had finally found what he was looking for:
Django Rienhardt records.
He’d give everything he had to have you listen to a record with him again, but that decision wasn’t his to make.
He knew you were alive, and he couldn’t take your life away just because his greedy heart wanted you.
Superstitious
Shinji stood upside down in the middle of Karakura town. A lazy, lopsided Cheshire Cat grin plastered on his face. He wore a newsboy cap and striped tie along with a schoolboys uniform, even though he was much too old to be going to high school.
He’d be going to that real interesting kids’ school in no time. He wondered what all the buzz was about Ichigo Kurosaki— from what he could gather from Urahara, he had quite the shoes to fill all around.
And he needed a mentor who knew what it was like to fight an inner hollow,
Thankfully, Shinji was far too qualified: both for high school and training some dork on self control.
He almost whistled to himself while he looked at who he could assume was Kurosaki, as he looked awfully familiar, and his friends: Sato and Orihime.
…
“Good morning class, I wanted to announce that we have a new student joining us— please come on in, Hirako.”
Shinji politely bowed at the teacher in front of him before glancing around the classroom. He instantly spotted the kids he was stalking the night before.
‘M getting too old to have Urahara harp on me like that, let alone pretend to be my pops— like it was believable anyways…
“I’m Shinji Hirako, it’s nice t’meet everyone.”
“Hirako, you wrote your name wrong—“
He took one last cautionary glance around the room, smirking to himself as he flew off the seat of his pants.
“Oh! No, I just have a party-trick of writing m’ name upside-down. Sorry, shoulda warned you.”
Kurosaki made eye contact, rookie mistake.
Now it was time to learn what this substitute soul reaper knows about hollows.
“I have a feelin’ we’ll be friends, Kurosaki. In the meantime let’s get to know each other, yeah?”
…
“Quiet down, will ya? Ya really can’t go attackin’ me. I gotta keep my composure, kid. Can’t afford to have myself found out so easily. Some of us have spiritual pressure.”
He never thought it would feel so good to bully a high school student. Maybe that was the reason Shinji found himself in a school uniform, maybe it was all for this exact moment.
For Shinji to reveal his hollow mask to this dork with a shit-eating grin on his face because he knows how fuckin’ cool it is.
But the kid was way too caught on who he is. Obviously he’s a completely normal high schooler— well, while that large mass of spiritual pressure is out and about he is.
“Stop focusin’ on the details, kid. Who I am doesn’t matter, what matters is we can help you. You’re a visored, idiot.”
“I don’t care what a visored is! I am a soul reaper, and I’m not one of you, beat it.”
Shinji’s brow furrowed at that, if only he knew, he thought, what a jackass he sounds like right now.
Ichigo leaves, and Shinji has failed. Soon enough, the call he gets from Hiyori confirms his failure.
“Yeah, yeah! I hear you— look I’m trying… Fine, we still have time. I know it isn’t a lot of time— stop calling me bald! It’s only a matter of time.”
…
The Gotei Thirteen court guard squads had been readying themselves for war ever since three captains defected to Hueco Mundo under Sosuke Aizen’s command.
In that time, it was like your grief kept on being dug up.
You found it sick how so many people close to you seemingly had it out for you, or at the very least for your partner: Shinji.
The most impactful betrayal was of Kaname Tousen, you and Sajin seemed to share that grief together as you wondered what could’ve made him go rogue— as both of you respected him as a paragon of justice.
Rukia Kuchiki had been freed from her execution, multiple unknown presences made themselves known in the Seireitei, notably a Quincy— as you thought Mayuri had… taken care of them, to put it gently.
Between you and Izuru Kira acting as the head of squad three, you found time to spend with Rangiku and Kyoraku.
Rangiku had especially needed the support, and at this time you had finally repaid your debts to her, possibly not in full, but in saké bottles.
Kyoraku was still himself, an ardent protester of war and conflict alike. He, like you both, shared in the grieving of a peaceful time within the soul society.
In this time, you had dug out your old record player, as it seemed to fit the somber mood. If you were to die, at least it would be in battle against hollows.
It also appeared that Urahara and Yoruichi had been welcomed back into the soul society, and small rumors had begun to spread amongst those who had been around years ago for the hollowification incident: that shinji was still alive.
But the only person saying this was some soul reaper who was, for lack of a better word, a genuinely terrible source of information.
You felt scandalized that he’d even say such a thing. According to him, Shinji was alive, had a bowl-cut, and was in a high school uniform from the world of the living.
If the soul reaper who had described that to you wasn’t an utter buffoon, you would’ve believed him.
But the bowl cut… hm, probably not.
You quickly went back to focusing at the effort at large, destroying Sosuke Aizen, aid Ichigo Kurosaki with regaining the Hyogyoku, and continue the preparation for the false Karakura town.
I’m Lost
Preparations had been complete, and with the help of Kisuke Urahara, fake karakura had been completed. You stayed in the soul society in case of any kickback, but hoped that your friends would survive.
Momo Hinamori, Rangiku Matsumoto, and Izuru Kira.
Oh, Shuhei, Omaeda, and Iba were also there.
You heard mixed recounts from the event, some said that Captain Sui Feng used her Bankai which was hilariously off kilter in comparison of her character.
Omaeda had also managed to live. It was a feat that was not expected of him.
Shuhei, Kira, and Momo had it the worst. They had to see their disgraced captains, while Rangiku saw what her childhood friend had become and shortly thereafter, saw him die.
What stood out in those reports, though was that a blond haired man of tall stature, wearing a newsboy cap and orange button up held a zanpakto that was all too familiar to you:
Sakanade.
This was the way you learned that he lived, that everyone involved with the hollowification incident survived.
Rightfully so, you were pissed.
Your emotions flipped with the wind as your friends and coworkers told you that your lover who had been missing for over a hundred years was alive and simply chumming it up in the human world.
You felt as if you were slapped, given every single thing you had ever wished for, and then had a bucket of cold water thrown on you in your sleep.
The small parts of you which screamed at the rest for rationality were quickly replaced with copious amounts of alcohol. Whatever logical argument he could’ve given you in the moment derailed the worst possible ideas being thrown between you and your drunken compatriots during your congratulatory seireitei bar crawl.
“You know what would be funny— oh my god, what if I pretended that I slept with Shuhei?”
“Don’t even joke about that,” Kira piped up, “I don’t think anyone deserves such a cruel and unusual punishment.”
You laughed far too loudly at that.
“Ohmygod— wait, wait, hear me out,” Rangiku slurred, her whole body lurching towards you in search of your drink to quickly down, “what if instead you jus’ pretend like you hit your head hard or somethin?”
Rangiku’s sweet, petty siren song was like silk against your burning-hot skin.
You were instantly sold.
“Amnesia? Oh, that’s harsh.” Spoke Shuhei, despite the incessant jabs at his manhood.
“But it’s perfect— cause clearly he forgot about you! He even got a hair cut! That’s insane.”
Rangiku’s hands fumbled at your drink, successfully stealing away your most coveted drunk possession.
And thus, your plan was formed in the way all amazing plans were, by far too much saké and grief.
…
“Now Hirako, I assume you know why I’ve called you here, right?”
“Y’gonna give me terrible advice for wooin’ my girl back?”
Shunsui laughed in response and waved his hand before his face.
“No, not at all. Despite everything you made a choice and that poor woman grieved for you, Hirako. I also know that you’re aware of the type of pain this moment has brought to her.”
Shinji scoffed at Shunsui playing the charismatic old coot.
“Just spit it out, old man.”
Kyoraku raised an eyebrow at Shinji, an old man calling him old… it wasn’t the time to get into petty squabbles no matter how terrible of an argument made.
“Well, you see, while you’ve been gone it seems that she had an accident.”
“Why are ya dancing around the issue, Kyoraku? She either did, or didn’t.”
“She had an accident,” Kyoraku corrected himself, “and it happened shortly after your hollowification. She has light amnesia.”
Shinji stared at the long-haired man before him blankly, eyebrows raised far above his bangs.
“Amnesia, she got amnesia while I was gone.”
Shunsui sighed, “Well, when you become a member of the Gotei thirteen, injuries aren’t uncommon. It might as well be a part of the oath, Shinji.”
He didn’t like lying, but he also didn’t like seeing pretty young women heartbroken. But, he understood where Shinji was coming from: speaking to you or contacting you would’ve caused a target to grow on your back more than it probably was.
“So, what doesn’t she remember?”
Kyoraku paused, using the quiet to build tension.
“Well, that my friend is where it gets interesting, It’s like she never knew who you were in the first place.”
“Huh?”
“Well, it does mean you can make her fall in love with you again, does it not? Isn’t a retrial more forgiving than a memory?”
Shinji stood up and thanked Kyoraku for the drinks and left quicker than he came.
“I refuse to play a part in this for much longer, you know how I feel about bleeding hearts— just ask lovely Nanao.”
A Pretty Girl is Like A Melody
It all started with a hangover and a bouquet of flowers.
Specifically, wildflowers. They had to have been hand-picked, by whom? You had no idea. The wildflowers had been found displayed carefully in a vase right outside of your door with small handwritten notes.
The notes contained inside jokes the two of you shared, long before he even became a captain.
Gifts started appearing at your door slowly but surely. A necklace, and a nice one at that, rings. Hair pins, blouses, dresses, even more short notes.
The handwriting gave him away immediately, as you soon began to read the poems that Shinji had written for you.
Some were certainly better than others. Some poems were far too verbose and flowery for the subject matter to make sense while others were so candid that it felt as if you took a magnifying glass to his soul itself.
“I missed you, the entire time I was gone sweetheart. I’d think about you all night. I’d think about you when you could smell the rivers and the flowers. I’d think about you til the sun came up, and I’d be met with the thing that reminded me the most of you. Vicious cycle, isn’t it?”
Then, the records started. He must’ve noticed the old record player out.
He started with Billie Holliday, giving you a one-song record of Night and Day. Soon enough, the space around your record player looked as if someone had dumped an entire antique store of records inside.
And though you once believed that your cold, dead heart was immune to romance, Shinji Hirako knew every nook and cranny like the back of his hand.
Within the week, he had started arriving at your door: asking to come in and talk to you.
“Ya really haven’t changed much, ‘m glad for it. You’ve always been cool like that.”
Although his writing was laying it on thick, to be kind he wasn’t pushy in person. He just had this melancholic expression but would still find ways to make you laugh.
Silly notes stuck gently on the packaging of your favorite vinyls, food being prepared after long days of work being the third-seat of squad three.
“I remember you liking the third song on this, but I introduced it to you when we had our first date. Maybe you’ll still like it? -Shinji”
Now all you needed were the chaste kisses held between hallways, between captain meetings.
You couldn’t restrain yourself for much longer, sooner or later you’d break and you couldn’t let him go again.
…
Shinji had been feeling pretty awful lately.
Especially after he had been told about your little accident.
It felt as if, the moment he stopped watching you like a hawk, you got out in serious danger.
And he wasn’t there to protect you for a long, miserable one-hundred and ten years.
But he had seen you return to memories of him, especially when your eyes lit up to the vinyls he’s been collecting for the both of you in the past century.
He loves seeing the crinkles in your eyes everytime you put a record on and watch it spin, the way he catches you dancing when you think he isn’t looking, your soft, contented sighs after a long days work just sitting and enjoying the music.
It was something he took for granted, and he knew it. Hell, he hadn’t been able to forget that he never kissed you the night before the hollowification happened.
But now seeing the sweet rays of sun kiss your skin as you smiled, truly smiled, from reading his corny notes left in your stuff made him happy.
It made him feel complete in ways he hadn’t felt in a century, and that to him was all he could ask for. He knew you might’ve moved on during that time and for so long he was upset at that possibility, and now he just felt… resigned to it.
As if he couldn’t do anything about it. Oftentimes this path of thinking got him in a sentimental mood.
“Captain Hirako, are you available?”
Your voice was muffled from the shoji door that kept you away from him, but he quickly scrambled over to the sliding door and opened it.
“Hey! Nice seeing ya, why dontcha c’mon in?”
He shuffled back, allowing you inside before closing the sliding door behind you both, secretly praying that Lieutenant Hinamori would be willing to do a bit more work than bargained for today.
“So, what brings ya on over?”
“Well,” you started, “mainly to apologize to you.”
He looked at you as if you had grown multiple heads
“What d’ya mean, apologize? You have nothin’ to apologize for—“
“Shinji,” you put a hand on his shoulder, rubbing soothing circles into his shuhakusho. “I’m sorry, I lied to you.”
“Lied? About what?”
“About the amnesia.”
You let the room simmer in the confession before continuing.
“I lied about having amnesia because I was upset you didn’t contact me from the human realm. In hindsight that was… far too petty of me to do. I know you just wanted to keep me safe I just— it’s not justifiable. We both need each other right now.”
He nodded, his face going through a mixture of emotions, all unpleasant.
“I understand if you need time away, or want to reconsider anything—“
You held his gaze, testing the waters.
“I don’t wanna reconsider anything.”.
His brown eyes held yours, a deathly seriousness to them.
“Okay,” you continued onwards, “then what would you like to do?”
“I wanna just have a lazy night with you. No chores, just us, alone. Together again.”
“Together again,” you parroted him.
“Just trust me doll, maybe that’s all we need— to make up for lost time. Let me find somethin’ real quick…”
He bounced out of his seat, searching through his vinyl collection until he had found it,
An old Django Reinhardt album, the one he found back in the human world so many years ago. He set the record in the platter, placing the tone arm in just the right spot, and set the stylus.
Soon enough, a laid-back violin started to fill the room
“You really haven’t changed at all, have you Shinji?”
He turned back to you, smiling once more with his arms open: an invitation to dance.
“I have, y’see, I haven’t had a good dance partner in over a century— I know! Criminal, especially with how good I look,”
“Really? No human girls sparked your fancy?”
“Never was the type t’look at the menu after I ordered.”
You laughed, “that’s a terrible analogy.”
“It was good enough to make you laugh, that’s all I need. Now c’mon, hold onto me. Let’s dance the night away sweetheart.”
“So much for a relaxing evening.”
“Hey, if it’s with you…”
“Oh my goodness, Shinji.”
“ ‘m too much! Too good at my job, which is partially annoying you.”
You pressed your head to his shoulder as he leaned down towards you, cradling your body on his own as you stepped in time with the music together.
“I love you, and I’m sorry.”
“I don’t need an apology, sweetheart. ‘M not happy, sure but… we’ve gone through a lot. Let’s focus on things one day at a time, yeah?”
You nodded into him, and he sighed. Shoulders dropping.
That night, you both stopped chasing shadows.
To whomever sent that Shinji request you were COOKING. This is fire
I’m ngl this might be out tonight but if it is, I’m so sorry this is just straight up gonna be a fic. I’m not even halfway done and it’s like 3k????
To whomever sent that Shinji request you were COOKING. This is fire
I just updated my ask guidelines, completely forgot that theres an entirely different section for that???? im so sorry
