#piper spray

[variousqueerthings]

anyone can take what they want from canon and no reading is more "real" than another and it's all fiction anyway and I'd be on this train even if otherwise and don't need validation from artists involved, but I do think the disconnect between how rtd and julie gardner describe the tentoo plot and the way billie piper and dt talk about their characters and the ending is very funny. that billie piper thinks rose going off with tentoo was kind of sad and not what she really would have wanted, and that DT has called the doctor asexual, I just feel they're tapping into the humanity of the characters (so to speak) and why they have to part at the end and why it's bittersweet and tragic

they see my vision of a relationship fundamentally doomed to be unfulfilled because they need different things and their paths can never align and that even as they were making it work by just continuing on and on without ever speaking this truth aloud, the universe itself was like "no. parallel universe!" and then "no. parallel doctor-like alloromantic human!" in order to make them confront these irreconcilable differences between their trajectories, not because of science fiction meta "the doctor must be lonely for the story to work and is an alien" handwavy concepts, but for very grounded, relationship-based reasons

really would like to read a rose x tentoo story where they're not immediately comfortable or at ease with one another, because they're not quite what this relationship was, and tentoo isn't quite the doctor that rose knew, and was essentially left there as an offering or an apology or a good-enough or a prison or for rose to be a caretaker rather than two people who got to know one another over a period of time as equals. and I'm me, I'd want the relationship eventually to work itself out, maybe in a romantic way, maybe not, but some kind of happy ending type thing... I think... I can get into hurt/no comfort fics too......

[todayis-snowy]

tw for injury

everyone takes turns caring for each other and yes that does mean Everyone

[flatoatchi]

my biggest anxiety about the move is how my cats are going to deal with the situation. they HATE car rides but will have to be in the car for at least 4 hours at a time on the trip out there, one of them has separation anxiety from me and pees and poops on the floor if she can't see me, they're gonna be living with my friend (who they've met a few times but not enough to really figure out how they feel about her) and possibly her cat, they're gonna be in a new climate, they're gonna have to stay in a new hotel every night while we're moving, god i don't wanna traumatize them here but unfortunately it's inevitable and i feel so bad

[raphael-angele]

Nico is a Baby, Bianca is Alive (and terrifying)

Nico: Fuck! :)

Everyone:

Percy: Alright, who taught him to say bad words?

Leo: Don't look at me. Bianca already pepper sprayed me once just because I stepped too close

Annabeth: Piper?

Piper: Me?! You actually think I'd curse around the baby?

Percy: Do you?

Piper: NO!

Annabeth: Thalia?

Thalia: You say that as if I'm not afraid of Bianca tying me to a tree log and letting me float down the river.

Annabeth: Well, I don't curse around him. I always censor my words in front of him

Piper: Like saying "fudging beefcakes, that hurt like a milking trucker"?

Annabeth: ...exactly. And unless I want Bianca to hang me upside down from the ceiling until all the blood goes to my brain, he couldn't have learned it from me

Percy: Well someone should've done it. Otherwise, he wouldn't be saying the fucking word.

Everyone:

Nico: Fuck! :)

Bianca, appearing out if no where: *grabs Percy's shoulder* Perseus...

Percy:

Bianca: Let's talk :)

[hibiscusspunweb]

Percy Jackson headcanons Part 3

-Percy has a siren’s voice. When he sings or hums, the attention of anyone in the vicinity is drawn to him.

-Also, Percy is definitely a huge Queen fan

-Annabeth has a spray bottle of salt water 

-Jason  listens to classical music (he just looks like he would)

-Reyna is a fucking demon at pillow fights for some unexplained reason

-Thalia likes strawberry Mentos 

-Also has a dart board up with a picture of Luke in the center (she consistently hits her mark)

-Leo sleeps in a fetal position 

-Frank likes stormy weather and stratus clouds 

-Also a frequent user of “gee willickers” or “golly gee”

-Will is an avid Beatles listener 

-Austin always has cork grease in his pocket 

-His favorite fruit is the mango as well

-Leo listens to Tyler, the Creator

-Frank occasionally listens to Viking music  (no explanation why)

-Nico loves analog horror 

-Will watches it with him

-Piper HATES harpies after her several encounters with them

-The Poseidon cabin occasionally gets flooded (via Percy)

-The Athena cabin is either really neat and organized or cluttered with blueprints, armor, etc.

-The Demeter cabin figured out how to grow blue raspberries 

-They also grow all kinds of weird fruit 

-Leo makes fake accounts on dating apps for shits and giggles

-Percy once threw an apple at Annabeth and she caught it. 

-The Apollo cabin’s walls are plastered with musical posters 

-Will smells like cough syrup 

[cometchasinglove]

6 for Earthspark!Starscream/Piper :3

#6 - "A sigh of relief."

Ask Game

Catwalks

Warnings: Suggestive

Word Count: 865

As Starscream arrived at the old warehouse that was surrounded by a worn blacktop, he frowned. Unimpressed by the location in the forest, his blue optics peered closely at the woman below him. 

“Hashtag put you up to this, didn’t she?”

Piper said nothing but shrugged, flipping her long, black hair over her shoulders. As she turned, the mech caught a glimpse of a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. It only confirmed his suspicions. Starscream could use a “spa day”, he supposed. After all, he was imprisoned for so long previously. What could be the harm in enjoying the occasional wash?

As the human approached the dilapidated doors, she opened them with his help. Once inside the warehouse, she flipped a switch on a power cord criss crossing the floor. Immediately, powerful lights hummed to life, illuminating the area within. One corner of the warehouse was sectioned off, and the area that was once occupied by humans in the past appeared newly-cleaned and ready for a bot to have a wash, complete with a series of elevated catwalks for additional aid and hoses of varying sizes.

Starscream gawked, processing the sight around him. A part of him was even touched.

“When did you…?”

“I had some help. Now, would you rather me talk or wash?”

Starscream turned to find that Piper already removed her outer clothes, revealing her one piece swimsuit beneath. She continued to prepare, folding and packing her clothes away while the cybertronian eyed her curiously. She grabbed the smallest hose, her pale face tipped with a pinkish hue. Understanding that she was blushing, Starscream grinned a little.

“What?”

He looked away from her, slightly flustered himself.

“N…Nothing at all. Let us begin.”

Transforming and easing himself between the catwalks, Starscream kept all of his sensors focused on Piper as she started the hose. The sensation of water over his wings was refreshing and inviting. He couldn’t help but shudder, releasing a long and low vent. Slowly, Piper sprayed the dust across his armor. To her credit, she was serious about cleaning him, directing her efforts where the grime was thickest and removing it with strong bursts from the hose. From his point of view, it felt like a massage. 

Starscream couldn’t lie. He was enjoying himself. From the looks of it, so was Piper. She was careful and diligent, always explaining where she planned to cleanse next so that he could prepare for her touch and attention. 

Almost purring as she finished the worst of the dirt from his underside, he was beyond eager when she began to climb the catwalk stairs. It allowed him to receive a perfect look at her from a new angle. Her black swimsuit wrapped nicely around her slender figure, exposing just enough of her fleshy bits, from the sides of her breasts to the curves of her plump thighs she was so insecure about. Everytime she powered the hose, droplets of water bounced back in her direction, causing her body to become damp. 

Water rained down on Starscream like a shower, and the relief he felt as the dust and debris washed down the drain was otherworldly. As more of his shiny finish was revealed, he was about to fall deeper into tranquility.

Well, until Piper climbed over a catwalk railing.

"Hang on, I can't get what I need from this angle. I need to get on your wing. Is that okay?”

Starscream paused.

“Yes…that’s quite alright.”

He knew she aimed to be gentle. Gingerly, Piper nodded and set her bare feet on his wing, walking across and hosing him down more efficiently. Starscream remained as motionless as possible, not wanting her to stumble or fall. Still, he couldn’t deny the growing warmth in his spark as she approached him even closer.

The moment she stepped over his cockpit and slid to her knees to straddle the nose of his alt-mode, however, sent a surge of surprise down his frame that was so powerful that he couldn't silence the whine from his engine. Startled, Piper lost her footing and tumbled. Panicked, Starscream transformed instantly and caught her in midair before her hair could even make contact with the ground.

He held her soft body close in his servos, looking her over for any sign of injury. His rounded digits felt the cold surface of her back implants, and he momentarily shuddered. However, he pushed his negative thoughts to the side and sighed.

“Are you alright?”

Piper nodded, blowing a stray hair out of her face.

“I’m okay. Thank you.” She frowned, blushing once more. “I’m sorry. I should have warned you.”

Starscream shook his helm.

“No, no. It’s fine.” He grinned, deciding to make light of the situation. “You clumsy thing. The mighty Spectra I used to know was much…smoother.”

She giggled, a wondrous sound and a good sign.

“Well, would you like me to continue?”

Starscream thought for a moment, holding her close to the cockpit on his chest. He smiled, holding her close and snug against the warmth of his cleansed frame. 

“Actually, I believe we’re fine where we are.”

He felt instant reassurance when she hugged his digits in return. 

Divider Credit: @/saradika-graphics

Tagging: @m0thisonfire, @rapturemctro, @lockheed-martin-unofficial, @marveldragon, @jokerislandgirl32, @dizzying-faust, @blancnight, @boredandwiredkitty, @2bagelsinatrenchcoat, @dancing-coyote, @monochromatictoad, @achillidiot, @not-a-moose-in-disguise, @anaghostiez, @001-mirage, @ghostclementine, @onewhobelongstotheforest-blog, @windydrawallday, @call-me-kitty, and @jourlinemaktan.

[chbnews]

DAILY NEWS 6/28/24

Updates/Announcements

Cabin 13 was just sprayed for any potential bugs within the cabin

Happy birthday to Maddie (The author of this blog!)

Game Winnings/Events

Cabin 7 wins rugby game hosted by cabin 1

Cabin 1 cheats at rugby contest and almost wins but was disqualified

Drama

Cabin 10 placed on lockdown by Piper McLean because of the possibility of potential termites

Cabin 5 also has been placed on temporary lockdown, only certain campers are allowed out to train and have to shower to come back in

Thanks for reading, join the Discord - Katie Gardener ☘️

[bleachification]

aizen - moth to a flame pt. 2

+ aizen x reader

+ chapter two of this fic: moth to a flame << please read this first!

+ tybw spoilers below !!!

summary: war is looming and so are the ever-present memories of your ex-husband. aizen has officially turned his back on soul society and your marriage… at least that’s what you think. chance encounters with aizen amidst a century-worn war spark an internal battle that you aren’t sure you can win, and unconditional love and visceral hatred clash at the helm as you try to forget and move on—much to the dismay of your ex-husband, a man who, by every means, seems intent on winning you back.

“Are you ready?” Byakuya’s voice permeates your bedroom door and settles into the air alongside the scent you had just sprayed. The fragrance is all too familiar—deep vanilla with a subtle hint of smoked maple. Warm and intoxicating. 

Anyone who’s not a fool understands how unhealthy it is to keep and use your murdering, traitorous, son-of-a-bitch ex-husband’s cologne, but love has blinded you and made you foolish. 

You can’t help it. You can’t help the sense of safety and comfort the scent brings as it wraps itself around you, clinging like the last of a lifeline. You can’t help but freeze anytime you try to throw it out—hand directly over the bin, unable to let go and waiting for a drop that will never come. 

You can’t help the love you still hold for him… even as it eats away at you until nothing but a shell of your former self is left. 

“Yeah! Just… just give me a moment,” you call out in response after a pause of uneasy hesitation. You take a deep breath, allowing yourself a second of reprieve before you step out to meet the 6th Division Captain. 

When Byakuya asked you to accompany him to a formal dinner with the rest of the Gotei, you were stunned… to say the least. In fact, you didn’t even give him an answer until 48 hours later, when you had fully processed his request. When you finally accepted, the soft smile that split across his features was worth it, despite the reservations, you harboured in the back of your mind. 

When you gave him your answer, he thanked you… actually thanked you for agreeing to be his date. That gesture almost made you backtrack everything. It’s like you were almost toying with him—playing with his hope like a piper would the flute. 

Byakuya is kind, gentle, and patient. He cares for you in a way so pure and unblemished that you ache with the knowledge that you can’t give him what he wants—what he deserves. At least not while Aizen exists. 

You make your way to the door, shaking the swarming thoughts of Aizen away, and with a heavy breath, you open it to greet Byakuya. He stands before you, donned in all-white attire and carrying a small bouquet of roses in one hand. His eyes are wide as saucers as you step into his view. 

You crack a smile. “Good evening, Captain.”

————

The formal dinner turns into a party mid-way as alcohol gets passed around more frequently. Byakuya has gone off to talk to some clan elders about matters you don’t particularly care for. To sober up and escape the noise, you find yourself wandering the deepest part of the gardens until you come across a familiar bench. 

It sits facing a stunning pond, the water filled with otherworldly fauna and flora that decorate the glistening surface. Crickets tick in the nearby bushes, their sounds only overpowered by the gentle rushing sounds of the waterfall carved from the east bank. 

You take a seat and close your eyes, savouring the rare moment of peace. The night is young, and the air is gentle on your scorching skin—the effects of the alcohol in your system. It’s a relatively normal amount, but you get red, no matter the dosage. Just a drop and you could be used as a signal for oncoming traffic in the human world. 

Aizen used to tease you about it all the time, making stupid jokes that weren’t actually funny but made you laugh anyway. He’d give you a knowing smile, look right into your eyes and say—

“It’s a good thing my favourite colour is red.”

All of a sudden, the world stops. 

No. No. 

You turn and blink at Aizen standing before you, hair bright underneath the moonlight. He looks different, yet much too similar, all at the same time. 

This isn’t real, you think. So in your alcohol-induced haze, you decide that it isn’t. 

“Wow. Pretty accurate for a hallucination. What the hell was in that shot Retsu gave me?” You whisper the last part, just realizing how far from sobriety you are. 

Made-Up Aizen steps forward, inching closer until you’re less than three feet apart. “Hallucination? How much have you had to drink, love?”

Has his voice always been so gentle? So full of adoration?

You decide to humour Fake Aizen. “Hmm… three plus five plus eight minus six?”

He raises an eyebrow in amusement, hands folded behind his back as he watches you wiggle your fingers, trying to work out the numbers. There is less than four metres of space between you. 

You frown. “I think I did the math wrong. How many fingers is eleven?”

“Just a bit more than you have,” he replies softly. 

Not-Real Aizen smiles slightly at the sight of your pout and moves forward to drop down next to you on the stone bench. The two of you stare out at the water. The reflection of the stars is so vibrant on the pond’s surface that you’re tempted to scoop them up and count them in your hands. 1… 2… 3… until reality flows no longer and your problems fade into the weathers of passing time. Sadly, Problem #1 is currently sitting right next to you, eyes fixated on you as yours are on the fallen stars. 

“You’ve been busy,” he finally says, breaking the silence. 

You don’t take your eyes off the tranquil waters. A black swan glides across, light ripples following in its wake. “I could say the same for you, Dream Aizen.” 

He cocks an eyebrow at your name for him but doesn’t comment on it, instead deciding to play along. “You know how it is, reforming the world and such.”

You finally focus on him, slightly regretting it when you see how he looks at you—the same way he looked at you every day before the night that ruined everything. But you remember he isn’t real—just a cruel figment of your imagination and deepest desires. Perhaps that’s why you can converse with him; pretend everything is back to normal… pretend to be happy again. 

“No, I don’t. You see, I haven’t lost my mind. My balance and sobriety, maybe. But not this.” You knock on your head with your knuckles, only to wince at the contact. 

Not-Actually Aizen only sighs, dipping his head as he replies. “It’s a shame we aren’t in agreement yet.”

“Yet? That’s quite offensive,” you scoff. 

He tilts his head, amusement never straying from his features. “Oh? What is?”

“That you think I’d ever align myself with the likes of you. Offensive,” you affirm. 

The curve of his mouth only widens for a second before his usual mellow appearance replaces it. 

“We are meant to be together, _____. My plans won’t change that,” he assures. 

Irritation bubbles up at the insinuation—no matter what happens, you would never be desperate enough to be with a man who is so far beyond help. 

“My morals do. You know I’d never abandon those.”

“I know that you love me, and I love you. That you and I being on opposite sides—there’s no logic to that.” 

To that, you can only sigh and shake your head, the movement causing a strand of hair to fall in front of your face.

Not even a millisecond later, he leans forward. Suddenly, you’re hyper-aware of your surroundings and of his eyes locked on yours. You look away, but that doesn’t deter him. 

He is close enough that his breath runs hot on the skin of your neck. The proximity has your head spinning faster than the speed of light—and your own breath hitches as his gaze catches yours again. For an illusion, the warmth of his body feels all too real, and the look he gives you, far-too intense. 

“Is that my cologne?” He murmurs, the question almost too low for you to make out. 

“I ran out of everything else,” you lie. 

“Why would you need… “He pauses and straightens a moment after as an inkling of realization settles in his mind. It causes his jaw to tense. 

His hand moves and takes a strand of your hair between his fingers. You should pull back, but something stops you and pushes you to lean closer. Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s knowing he isn’t real. Maybe it’s the part of you that aches in his absence. 

“Are you here alone?” He then spots the accessory on your wrist. Turns out Byakuya also got a corsage to match the roses. “No, of course not.”

“I didn’t come with anyone,” you reply. The lie rolls off your tongue as easily as breathing. You have no reason to protect him from the truth. In fact, you should be lording it over him. Making it known that you’ve moved on—even if you haven’t. 

He blinks. “You’ve always been a terrible liar.”

“Apparently, you’ve always been a great one,” you retort. 

He ignores that comment. You sniff—it was pretty clever. 

“Was it Captain Kyoraku? Someone from one of the noble clans? Tell me, _____. Who have you employed as my temporary replacement?” His fingers stay tangled in your hair, playing with the strands like he used to when lulling you to sleep. For some unfathomable reason, you let him. 

“My date is none of your concern.”

He cocks his head. “On the contrary. As your husband, anyone you are concerned with is my concern.”

You begin to protest. “Ex-husband—”

He interrupts you. “And as your husband, it is only right for me to inquire about your dalliances. So who is it?” A smirk plays on his lips, “Does he know you’re wearing another man’s cologne?”

You give up on trying to correct him. Aizen has always had a streak of stubbornness. “I know he’s mature enough not to care.”

Hallucinated Aizen pulls back from you, not too far, but with enough distance that you can breathe again. His hand, however, never leaves its spot next to your face, teasingly playing with your locks. 

Aizen couldn’t pull his hand away even if he wanted to, though that desire could never wane. As magnets are to each other, you are the same to Aizen—he craves your contact… your touch… your very existence bound to his own. You two are forces unexplained, only alive when together, and vessels of resistance when apart. 

To have spent all this time away from you has been torturous, certainly. But to find out another man is daring to claim what’s his? What will always be his? That insult has truly driven him mad. The calm facade he wears so intimately is on the verge of crumbling the longer he stares at that disgusting flower tied to your wrist. The thought of burning that wretched thing alongside the person who gave it to you, then whisking you far, far away, is overwhelmingly tempting. The only thing preventing Aizen from doing so is knowing he would lose you completely. 

“I won’t let that happen….”

“Hm? Did you say something?” You swear he did, but it was so quiet you missed it. 

With a shake of the head, he denies it and fully removes himself from your space, deciding instead to join you in observing the pond’s activities. Though skeptical, you choose to leave it alone. 

You close your eyes and relish the night breeze, only to peek at the man beside you after a few minutes of silence. Nature long forgotten, his eyes are transfixed on you, slowly scanning you up-and-down, as if committing the image of you to memory. 

After a moment, he speaks up, voices a little strained. “Ah… so you came with Byakuya. Safe choice. Though you were never one to play it safe.”

You blink, half in confusion, half in shock. “What? How did you…?”

“The rose. It’s from his gardens, is it not?”

Damn it. 

“I hate how smart you are,” you mumble. 

He smiles a bit at that. “You used to think my intelligence to be one of my greatest qualities.”

That damned, godforsaken smile. It ruins you completely. Every single time it graces his face, it fucking obliterates you. 

“I hate how smart you are and how kind you used to be,” you add. The sudden need to get everything out in the open takes hold of you. “I hate your lies and the pain you caused and will continue to cause.” 

He opens his mouth, maybe an apology on his tongue, but one that goes unheard as you interrupt and continue. 

“But most of all? I hate the fact that I can’t hate you… not even for a second, not ever,” you breathe, letting the truth sit between you, as heavy and deep as the blood on his hands.

Silence rings out, lingering for a few seconds too long for comfort. His voice is uncharacteristically quiet as he finally responds. “I know.”

You take a deep breath. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t move on. Doesn’t mean I can’t love someone else.”

His demeanour crumbles for a fraction of a second before his mask of indifference slips back into place. You’re able to catch it, though—Aizen is shaken. “You don’t mean that.”

“You chose your own path, Aizen, and the moment you stepped foot onto it, I was no longer a part of it—a part of you. You decided on a life that held no place for me.”

Your husband—ex-husband—flinches. A rare sight, if there ever was one. “Don’t. You will always be a part of me, and I you.”

Your gaze drops, as does your stomach. The heavier the topic delves, the heavier your heart sinks. “That’s only in the past.”

“We are not a thing of the past,” he states, tone even, despite how tightly he grips the side of the bench, hard enough that his veins surface and fingertips turn white. You ignore the part of you that wants to take his hand in your own and check for calluses—to take away his pain. 

“We are not a thing at all,” you stress. The tension rises, and you only serve to add fuel to the fire. “And we never will be again.”

Because of you. Because of the choice you made. 

He makes a disapproving noise but doesn’t comment on it further. Another few minutes of uncomfortable silence stretches until you decide to break it. 

“It’s strange,” you muse. 

“What is?”

The realization creeps up slowly, like paint dripping down an infinite canvas. “I’m almost certain I’m sobered up, yet you’re still here.”

Another beautiful, devastating smile from Aizen—the real Aizen. “Where else would I be other than with my love?”

You snort. “Off, god-knows-where, trying to take over the world?”

“It’s my off-day,” he jokes. You find no humour in it. 

You sigh, chin resting in your palm. “So, you’re real.”

For some reason, you aren’t freaked out. His presence, though unwarranted, has and will always bring a sense of comfort. That feeling is one you don’t think time itself could weather away. 

He sits his chin on the back of his folded hands, mirroring you. “And you’re still here. With me.”

“Which is exactly why I should get back to my date, and you should leave,” you note. The suggestion is logical. Rational. But it hurts nonetheless. 

“So soon, my love? The night is still young. Are you really that eager to get back to your date?”

There is no humour in your eyes as you reply: “Yes, I am.”

“I see.” If there’s a strain to his voice, you don’t notice. 

Without another word, Aizen stands and takes a step forward. You mentally gather yourself at the last second and let him go… for good this time. 

“Aizen?”

“Yes?’ The hint of hope in his voice does not go unnoticed, and it only makes what you say next much harder. 

“Don’t come back again. Especially not for me.”

Aizen barely reacts, only affording you a stiff nod and sad smile before he disappears without a second glance—so quietly you almost believe him to be an illusion again. 

----------

The next time Aizen is brought up is during Ywhach’s invasion of Soul Society. Shunsui is the one who speaks to you about releasing your ex—a means to turn the tides of war. The Sternritter are closing in much too close for comfort, so to have a winning chance… Shunsui knows what has to be done. Hell, you, in your adamant refusal and hesitation, know what has to be done. The “knowing” is the easy part. The “actually putting thoughts into action” part is what’s causing every nerve in your body to seize up and render you immobile.

“No, no, you can’t. Or I can’t—Shunsui, I haven’t seen him for….” Much too long.

The look Shunsui gives you makes your jaw clench—sunken eyes brimming with pity and remorse. “_____, you know I wouldn’t be suggesting this if there was any other option, but he is the only one who–”

“He is a criminal, or have you forgotten? He deserves to be locked up—to stay in his prison and rot beneath our feet,” you argue.

The words you spit are harsh, but the rising panic in your throat is harsher.

Shunsui doesn’t budge. “He is also our only chance of survival.”

What a laughable irony.

“He would stab our backs with the key we free him with.”

“Checks and balances, ______. There will be restrictions in place.”

“That won’t be enough,” you stress. 

But despite your best efforts, your argument falls on deaf ears. Shunsui made up his mind long before this conversation occurred. He only spoke to you out of courtesy. And perhaps a sense of guilt. 

“It will have to be,” he plainly states. 

The newly appointed Captain-Commander glides past you, the scent of his cologne wafting by as he moves to the door. With a slight tilt of his head, he opens it and gestures with an open palm. 

“Well? Are you coming or not?”

A seemingly innocent question, yet loaded with suffocating pressure. But as much as you despise the idea, you steel yourself and follow in Shunsui’s footsteps to the deepest level of Seireitei; Muken, home of the damned, and currently, the residence of your ex-husband. 

It isn’t long before you arrive at the heavy gates of the prison. The looming doors bring a grim sense of foreboding—a ticking time bomb that cannot be defused. 

Shunsui sets a warm hand on your shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. In reassurance or apology, you aren’t sure. You ignore the gesture; the only thing on your mind is the anxiety bubbling up inside you, threatening to overflow. 

“Would you like me to go in first? Or with you?” Shunsui asks, sensing your unease. 

You shake your head. “That’s kind, but no. I’ll have more luck convincing him if I’m alone.”

He only nods before moving aside to let you in. 

The first thing you notice is the sheer cold that wraps around you like a blanket of pins and needles. It bores into your bones and seeps into your veins, chilling and paralyzing. It takes you a second to realize that feeling isn’t due to temperature. 

You’re scared. 

And you hate that fear more than you hate him. 

Not fear of Aizen, but fear what you’ll do when you see him… what you’ll feel. 

The gates close behind you with a soft yet heavy thud, encasing you in an echoing darkness that almost blinds you to the path to Aizen. Minutes of deep breaths later, you set a foot forward. Walking through Muken feels like wading through a pool of honey. Time seems to slow to an agonizing crawl as you continue across the darkness. It takes a lifetime and a half, but you finally reach your destination. 

And there he is. Sitting in all his glory, up on the throne he so desperately craved. Head held high, never to be lowered for anyone except you… once upon a time. Aizen shows no hint of surprise as you approach him, but you swear the corner of his visible eye crinkles. You almost blame it on the light, only to remember there’s barely any in the underground prison. 

Seals are strewed across his body, shackling every possible ounce of his power and freedom. You ignore the lump in your throat at the sight; the implication of that pain is something you’d like to leave untouched. 

“I’ve come to—“

“Ask for my help. Yes, I know, and yes, I’ll do it,” Aizen interrupts with his smooth baritone. 

You blink, surprise flitting across your features. “You will? I thought I’d have to fight tooth and nail to convince you.”

“Of course, I will. You asked. Captain Kyorakou’s idea, no doubt, but it worked nonetheless,” Aizen says, gaze never straying from yours. He takes you in, eyes adjusting to your beauty after months alone in a barren landscape, staring at nothing but concrete walls and a blackened void. 

“Then I guess my job here is done.” You turn to leave, ready to get the hell out, only to be stopped by his voice. 

“Wait. _____, wait. Let’s talk.”

You swallow back the nerves crawling up the back of your throat. “We have nothing to talk about.”

“On the contrary, we have so much to catch up on,” he replies. 

You whirl around to face him, nerves long gone, annoyance slipping in its place. “Like what, Aizen? Do you want to talk about how everyone and everything I care about is getting slaughtered and destroyed by the war ravaging my home? About how I am looking at my ex-husband chained up and sealed away to the furthest depths of Soul Society because he decided treason and power were more important than his family? Maybe, you’d like to talk about how every single morning, I wake up and find my world crumbling over and over again because of you. Because. You. Aren’t. There. Is that what you want to ‘catch up’ on?”

Aizen only stares, imperceptibly taken aback by your outburst. He opens his mouth to answer, but you aren’t finished. 

“You are the root of my misery. The bane of my existence.” You hold back the tears well enough, but your voice breaks near the end. “Please, Aizen. Our marriage. My trust. My heart. What else is left for you to break?”

The seals imposed on him make reading his reaction and body language difficult, but the tense pause before he answers is palpable in the freezing air. “You must understand. I do not regret many things, _____, but I do regret hurting you.”

A shake of your head is all you can muster through the simmering anger and cutting grief you find yourself drowning in. “I don’t have many regrets either, but do you know the one thing I wish I could take back more than anything?”

A rhetorical question—you’re both aware—but he answers nonetheless; he humours you. “What is it, my love?”

My love. That damned endearment, laced with affection and poison. “You. I regret ever meeting you.”

A beat of silence passes before Aizen softly murmurs: “I am sorry... if it means anything.” Whether he’s genuine or not, you don’t know, and frankly, you can’t bring yourself to care.

“It doesn’t. Not from you,” you sigh. Fatigue washes over you in numb waves. The urge to leave is overwhelming, so you square your shoulders and turn on your heel again. This time, he doesn’t try to stop you from going.

The war against the Sternritter was not without losses, and the effects of its devastation still echo over Seireitei even months later. Graves filled the desolate land—the final resting places for the fallen, many of whom you had known and cared for. Learning of your comrades’ deaths was a thousand fatal blows to the chest, but nothing could compare to the debilitating dread that sunk its claws into your bleeding heart when you saw Aizen hurt. In that horrible, paralyzing moment, only one thought ran through your mind:

He can’t die. He can’t die. He can’t die.

Like a broken record, that desperate mantra was the only thing you understood, and Aizen the only thing you knew. It took every fiber, every nerve, every optic in your body to restrain yourself from running over and shielding him from further harm. To protect him like he always used to protect you, like how you both vowed to on the day of your union. That moment shattered every doubt in your mind about where you stood with Aizen, and it is also the reason you don’t draw your sword at the sight of him in your home once more.

“Shunsui thought those restrictions could contain you,” you pause. He stands at your doorway, leaning against the frame and listening patiently as you continue. “I told him it wouldn’t be enough.”

A small smile graces his features—the special kind that only appears in your presence. “You do know me best, after all.”

“I thought that once. Until I found out I don’t really know you at all… don’t know who you are anymore,” you murmur.

Aizen steps closer and you find yourself doing the same. No more running, no more hiding. “Then let me remind you. I am your husband, _____. I am the man who will crawl to the ends of the earth and back if you ask it of me. I am the man who needs you more than I need to draw breath,” he whispers, voice so soft, you’re only able to make out what he’s saying because of how close he is.  

“Aizen, please…” You gently press against his chest, desperate to gain distance, but he doesn’t budge and envelopes your fingers with his hand. His skin is warm against yours—too warm…  and way too intoxicating.

“No. I won’t let you push me away again. I need you to listen–”

“I’ve been listening! I’ve been listening to the lies you’ve been spewing for the entirety of our relationship,” you exclaim, exasperated. You pull your hand free from his and it's not even a second later that you miss the contact.

Aizen’s gaze drops down to his empty hand for a split second before coming up to level yours. There’s a glimmer of something in his eyes that you can’t quite decipher. “I hid things from you, yes. But I never lied about our relationship. I pursued you because I desired you, and I married you because the rest of my life is you.”

You cannot breathe. The air around you is charged with something even more powerful than electricity and its drawing goosebumps along your arms and chills down your spine. Aizen continues, and…

Oh dear god, you can’t breathe.

  “If someone were to open up my soul, searching for fingerprints, they would only find yours. I love you. I have loved you for the better part of my life and I will love you even if you took a knife to my heart right now,” Aizen announces, the words escaping out his mouth in a passionate flurry.

He is so, so close. Close enough to touch, close enough to kiss…

You lift your gaze until his eyes meet yours. Something passes between you, and you throw every inhibition out the door.

“Please, _____. Say some—”

And then there was nothing. No sounds. No space. No hate. No love. Nothing between you except unspoken words and fractured memories.

Aizen’s lips move hungrily against yours, and you meet him with equal fervor. His hands are entangled in your hair and gently, but firmly, grasping the back of your neck, hot and searing on your skin. You reach out and grasp the sides of his face, tracing the contours of his jaw as you pull him even closer. The kiss is laden with the roughness and desperation of a dying love. Neither of you is willing to let it end, but you pull back anyway, mind swimming with a million jumbled emotions.

“Aizen—”

His eyelids droop and he steals another kiss while drunk off your presence. “Why do you keep saying that?”

“What?” You try not to get distracted by the slew of affection he’s showering you with, but it's immensely difficult.

“Aizen,” he sulks.

Is he pouting?

You almost let out a laugh. “Have all those years of lying muddled your brain? It’s your name, what else would I be calling you?”

“You used to call me Sosuke. Or husband.”

“I used to call you many things that are hardly appropriate now given the nature of our relationship,” you note.

Sosuke pulls a face, clearly displeased by your answer. “After what we just did, I think it is extremely appropriate.”

You fidget as anxiety starts its treacherous climb up the back of your throat. “Yeah, about that… this doesn’t mean everything is magically okay. It’s far from it, actually.”

You jump a little when you feel his head drop down to your shoulder, breath ghosting over the lines of your collarbone. “I know, but we can make it work. Always.”

“You’re just going to abandon your plans? Give up on taking over the world?” The disbelief in your tone must be obvious because Aizen straightens up and his usual serious demeanor slips back into place.

“I have decided to shift my priorities,” he assures.

“I still can’t trust you.” Your heart squeezes at the sight of Aizen flinching—just slightly, but the hurt is there.

“That is… alright. For now. I swear I will do everything in my power to gain it back—to show you that your trust in me will not be misplaced,” he promises.

  You swallow, unsure of where to go from here until Aizen steps back and pulls something out from underneath the folds of his clothes. The moonlight glints off of your ring, glimmering in the night. Your heart flips at the sight, you’ve missed it dearly.

“I want you to take this back,” he begins.

“I don’t think that is smart idea, I d—”

Your husband gently interrupts you: “Wait. I want you to keep this until I can regain your trust. If I can’t do it, then you are free to throw it into the nearest sea. If I can…” His lips curve into a beautiful smile. “Then I am never letting you take this off for the rest of our lives.”

Five seconds pass. Or twenty, you aren’t sure. The only perceivable thing to you right now is not time, but the thundering beats of your pulse as you make your decision.

You swear Aizen sighs in relief when you finally take the ring from his hand. To his displeasure, you slip it into your pocket instead of on your finger, but he doesn’t voice his disappointment.

“Okay. A second chance; that is all I can give you.”

Aizen wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you against his body. You let him, his scent swirls around you, making you lightheaded. “I love you,” he whispers.

You can’t bring yourself to say it back—not yet, but he doesn’t push you to. For that, you are grateful. Nothing about this situation is rational, but love, in its truest form, does not exist within rationale. It exists within sense, within feeling, within the soul. It is rooted in what you cannot measure… in what you yearn for in your highest fantasies… and you? You will always and forever be what Aizen yearns for.

tags: @coralpeachcalm @starsilluminateourgalaxy​

[shhtickerbook]

Little Chocolatier

Finally finished my Wonka agere fic!

tw: crying, nightmares, bedwetting, hurt / comfort

-

also posted this on Ao3

Willy Wonka came tumbling down the laundry chute, a pile of sheets piled over him like a stereotypical ghoul. It had been a very long day selling chocolate around the city, his pouch of sovereigns jingled like an instrument as he walked.

Lugging himself out of the laundry cart, Willy smiled weakly up at his friends who were finishing up for the day. Placing down the pocketful of coins on abacus’ table, who picked up his spectacles from his desk.

“Let me get these counted up for you Mr Wonka, I’d say we’re making more and more money each day”

The man spoke as he counted out his coins, Willy nodding. His head was feeling a little odd, like he hadn’t had the best sleep for a while. His days revolved around chocolate and chocolate only, and of course still trying to catch that little orange man. Willys body ached from running from police all day, and for once it was hard to keep his usual chipper and positive energy. His head just felt a little out of gear.

“You okay Willy?”

Piper was hanging up sheets, but had noticed the slight change in the chocolatiers body language. He quickly jumped in reply, putting on his smile and charm.

“Of course! Just a little fatigued. I better head to bed”

He chirpily replied, before making a quick exit to head up to his room. An early night was what probably he needed, to clear the cobwebs from his mind. It was always strange when he felt like this, like a fog overcame his senses. Things just seemed louder, too bright. He just needed some time to rest. The sight of his room wasn’t exactly warming, the metal framed bed teetering on edge, with a yellowing sheet and thin mattress. It wasn’t pretty, but it was the only home he had right now. At least until he made enough money to open his store. Then he could purchase his own house, with enough room for all his friends to move in.

Humming softly as he got changed into his nightclothes, he watched the rain beginning to drop from the sky and glittering against the oil streetlights. This was the only good part of the room, able to see all the way down to the glowing light of the gallery gourmet.

“One day Mamma….”

-

A young Willy wonka awoke in a fright, feeling his centre of gravity tilt for a moment before being thrown from his bed. He had been flung to wooden floorboards, swaying back and forth. It was his canal boat home, but there were no lights, and the once comfortable and cosy furniture was decrepit and molding.

There was a huge roar from outside, howling wind and torrential rain pour. Willy tried to get to his feet, stumbling from the imbalance. What had happened, where was his mother?

“Mamma? Where are you?”

He called out, managing to find the shape of the ladder in the dark. It was incredibly difficult to try and ascend it with the boat rocking back and forth. The boy was immediately hit by a spray of water when he opened the hatch. The canal boat was racing down the water, a terrible storm hitting in every direction.

“Mamma!”

Willy sheltered his face with his elbow, a gust of cold wind causing his favourite scarf unravel and be sucked away. Usually they tied the boat up when bad weather came, he couldn’t even recognise where the boat had been blown to. A sudden flash of light flashed in front of his eyes, disorienting him before a gigantic bang threw him back. Thunder and lightning, it was one of the very few things that frightened him. Usually his mother would hold him close when it thundered, humming a soft tune to drown out the bangs. He wanted nothing more than to find her, where in earth had she gone, why had she left him alone?

His threadbare boots skidded against the wet floorboards, the boat bowing up high in the water. Scrambling he attempted to hold on to anything, but it was no use. In one awful weightless sensation, the boy was thrown from the boat and plunged deep into the choppy freezing water.

-

“Mamma!”

Willy jerked up from bed, clutching at his chest as he began to hyperventilate. His room was filled with darkness, his oil lamp had long burned itself out. But the darkness was quickly replaced with a flash of light from outside, followed by a bang. Flinching violently at the noise, still disoriented from waking up. The dream had felt so real, like he could still feel the cold water he’d been plunged into…

Oh dear.

Frantically he felt around his sheets, sighing out in despair when finding them cold and sopping wet. This was a problem of which that had only happened from time to time, and up until this point it hadn’t occurred whilst he’d been saying at Scrubbits. Willy felt his eyes watering, Mama always helped him when he was young and this happened. It had happened once or twice on the ship, but thankfully there was a very kindly second mate with the same problem who had caught him one evening hunting for sheets.

Sheets… that’s it. He was literally living at Scrubbit and Bleachers, all he had to do was sneak down and wash them, dry and make it back to his room. Although when he stood up and felt the cold breeze through the warped window, all his confidence disappeared and all he wanted to do was curl up and cry. Willy didn’t think he’d ever wanted his mother more in his life, he certainly didn’t want to deal with this.

His head felt fuzzy and strange, vulnerable even. Thankfully a small stuffed creature had been spared from the mess, a floppy knitted bird was strewn against his pillow. Willy picked up the ratty bird, his name was Chester the toucan. Mama had made him when he was a baby, told him stories about where the flocks of birds lived. They even cracked open cocoa beans for food, not the bitter nibs, but the soft sweet flesh surrounding them. Chester was his most loyal companion, so with a deep breath, he tucked the bird under his arm and gathered up the soaked sheets, carefully tiptoeing out of his room.

The creaking floorboards didn’t help his attempt of stealth, but he managed to make his way down the hall and down the stairs. The freezing cold rain and wind felt agonising in just his damp pajamas when he made it outside, the silly man completely forgetting to slip on shoes or any kind of coat on beforehand. The rain was getting torrential, with a deep rumbling in the distance. Willy managing to sprint across the cobblestones to the laundry room just before another bang rang out.

-

Abacus Crunch was a very light sleeper, so when the thunder and lightning began, he resolved to just sit and read for a while until it had passed. He quite enjoyed this kind of weather, he’d read in a book that the sound of thunder created a kind of “white noise” that helped one relax. And his keen hearing picked up on the sound of somebody getting up, but he thought nothing of it. But then he heard the sound of a door loudly open outside, and couldn’t help but stand up to investigate. His pocket watch read that it was 12:35 in the morning, so nobody should be outside at this time. Mrs Scrubbit and Bleacher had threatened any fool who left the building out of hours with multiple gruesome punishments.

So when he peered through the window to see what looked like Willy Wonka darting into the washhouse, he couldn’t help but be curious. What on earth was Mr Wonka doing at this time of night, and in his pajamas of all things?Too peculiar to ignore, the man stood up and put some sensible clothes on to investigate further.

-

Willy really wished he had brought some kind of light with him, the inside of the washhouse looked rather unnerving with only the moonlight and flash of thunder illuminating the interior. He felt around the walls until he found a shelf, scrambling until he found the shape of a candle, box of matches not far behind.

It took a few attempts to strike the match, his shivering hands struggling to get the damn candle lit. But on the fourth attempt he got the old stub of candle alight, having to settle with the puny flame to guide him. He couldn’t just throw the soiled sheets in the hamper, someone for sure would find them tomorrow and question. There was no choice but to wash them, dry and redress his bed. A bitterly cold draft swept through the building, his wet pajamas feeling icy against his skin. With his precious candle being snuffed out in one single breeze.

He groaned in defeat, swallowing anxiously. Wondering just how he was going to do this on his own, he wanted to go back to bed but his bed was now wet and ruined. What was even wrong with him right now? Willy Wonka was the most independent, confident person you could know, why was something as silly as a bad dream and thunder making him feel so unsettled. The knitted toucan in his arm was the only thing he could find some comfort in right now, his button eyes glinting in the moonlight. Holding the bird close to his face, it’s very faint chocolate smell still there from years past.

Taking a deep breath he walked in further, trying to find a washtub. Eventually feeling around to find a large wooden vat. As he was about to dump the sheets inside, to his horror he heard the door loudly creaking open, a yellow light appearing from atop the stairs.

In a panic Willy grabbed at his curls, breathing beginning to hitch. Heavy footsteps echoing down the stairs, the possibilities of who it could be racing through his brain, before coming to a horrifying conclusion. Bleacher. If he found him like this he would never ever hear the end of it, he’d be humiliated beyond belief. The terrible man would probably parade his sodden sheets like a flag to everybody, laughing at stupid Willy Wonka bedwetter.

Willy didn’t know what to do, sliding down to the floor behind the washtub. The steps continued down, watching the warm light fill up the room. In a few moments his hiding spot would be for sure revealed.

“Mr Wonka?”

It was a deep voice, but not gravelly and sinister. A gentle baritone rumble, sounding kind. Although feeling relief that it wasn’t Bleacher, the panic still remained of being caught. He stayed silent, hopeful he would leave. But as Abacus walked further, there was no place left to hide, the man turning a corner to see the chocolatier doing his best to stay in the shadows.

“Oh I’m fine- please just go back to bed”

He squeaked out, but his tone only concerned the other man further. Abacus approaching further with his lamp, illuminating the boy in its shine. In the warm light there was no way to hide his predicament, a terrible silence between the two. Abacus had been concerned as to what on earth was going on, but his expression softened when seeing the chocolatier clutching a handful of sheets in his wet pyjamas.

“Ohh”

Abacus breathed out sympathetically, watching as the Willy Wonkas face crumpled before he looked away with tears in his eyes. A huge lump had formed in his throat, everything felt like it was closing in on him. He couldn’t help but hold onto the silly little bird for security as he felt tears fill his eyes.

“Oh dear boy, it’s quite alright”

Abacus placed the lamp on a table before approaching, his heartstrings being pulled at the sight of the poor boy. He looked so very vulnerable and afraid.

“I’m so sorry”

Wonka admitted quietly, feeling so ashamed. But the kind tone of the older gentleman was weakening his defences. Unable to hold back a small sob, as his body folded in on itself. Abacus was certainly shocked by the reaction, having never seen the man so emotional. Of course he had every reason to feel embarrassed, but it wasn’t something Abacus hadn’t seen before being both a father and grandfather.

“There’s nothing to apologise for, it happens to the best of us”

He spoke gently, putting an arm around the chocolatier. It was the straw the broke the camels back for Willy, the comforting voice and affection only making him think of his mother. More tears bubbling over as he couldn’t hold it back anymore. The fuzzy feeling in his head felt even stronger, all he wanted was to be held and to be secure.

Abacus knew that this situation was probably very embarrassing for him, but this kind of breakdown made him think that there was more going on in his head than the accident.

He felt Willy Wonkas knees buckle underneath him, so he held him up before guiding the pair over to a bench. It was clear he needed to get whatever this was out of his system, the mathematician holding an arm over his frame and allowing him to whimper into his shoulder. Although feeling so very embarrassed, Willy couldn’t help but cling to the man, especially when another crack of lightning rung out.

“Ah I see, I gather you’re not a fan of fulgur tempestas”

Abacus had begun to rub small circles into his back, remembering how his Sons were very comforted by the simple gesture. Willy looked up in mild confusion between his tears, not understanding what word was said. Perhaps it was made up, like he usually did when he couldn’t find a rhyme for something. Abacus just chuckled softly.

“Lightning, you’re afraid of it?”

Willy just hunched up a little and quickly nodded with his head turned away, it was a very silly thing to feel so afraid of. It was odd to see Willy Wonka seeming so.. small? Even with his tall lanky frame it felt as if he was holding a scared little boy.

“Now, it’s quite late and getting very chilly. How about we get you more comfortable? You’re shivering”

He patted him on the back, but Willy just looked down anxiously at the sheets still clutched in his hands.

“No need to worry about those, I’ll take them personally and get them cleaned. Nobody has to know”

Standing up, he pulled the damp sheets from his grasp before carefully folding them and placing them in an old washtub behind his desk. Sighing sympathetically at the boys forlorn expression, but gave a small smile when seeing a little creature tucked away under an arm.

“Is that your companion?”

He gestured at the knitted toy, Willy blushing at first and trying to hide it. But Abacus sounded nice about him, not like he was going to poke fun. Hesitantly he presented the bird, his bean filled head sloping to the left. Abacus chuckled as he saw it clearly, it was a very charming little toy.

“Chester.”

Willy spoke extremely quietly, chin to his chest selfconsciously.

“Hm? What was that?”

He leant in closer, holding a hand to his ear.

“Chester, his name”

His voice was so very small, not his usual confident chirpy tone. Yet again Abacus felt his heartstrings being pulled upon, the fatherly instincts in him taking over when he heard that little voice.

“That’s a very good name.”

For the first time that night Abacus caught a small smile from the boy, but it disappeared when a low rumble from outside growled ominously. He held the bird close to him again for comfort, which was a very sweet sight. It truly was as if Willy Wonka had transformed into a small child, his entire body language and demeanour seemed different. Abacus took a step further and bent down a little to his sitting level, holding out his large hand.

“How about we head back to your room and I help you get sorted, you’ll catch your death in those wet things”

His tearstained face looked up, not seeming quite sure. A part of him wanted to stand up straight and assure he was completely alright, he could take care of himself. But when he saw the kind expression on the older man, all he yearned for was his comfort and security. So he accepted the offer, holding onto his hand tight as he stood up.

Abacus couldn’t hold back the sympathetic smile as he guided the boy out of the washhouse, the desperate grip in his grasp reminded him so of his son many years ago. When they made it back outside, he handed Wonka the oil lamp whilst he pulled out his umbrella.

“Now, only a quick walk back inside, could you carry the lamp for me?”

The pair briskly walked through the rain to their accommodation, Willy holding on for dear life throughout the thunder. He’d been so afraid of being caught, but right now he couldn’t feel more grateful to be with in the man’s protection. His head was feeling at its fuzziest. Thankfully it only took a few seconds, Abacus folding up the umbrella once they had made it back inside. Willy had his hands full with the oil lamp and knitted toy, Abacus taking the oil lamp back from his grasp.

“Well done, thank you.”

The simple praise made Wonka glow inside, feeling genuinely proud of such a simple simple task. As quietly as they both could, they ascended the creaking stairs together until they came into Willy’s room. Once they entered the room, Abacus immediately noticed the stain across the mattress. The sight of it making Willys face burn red in embarrassment, but the older man was completely unbothered.

“Alright then, have you got a spare nightclothes?”

Abacus turned as he rubbed his hands together, Willy just standing there with a shrug. He hadn’t brought many clothes with him here, just his signature velvet outfit, a few shirts and only one pair of pyjamas. The other man just sighed in amusement, especially when noting the large amount of chocolate related instruments and inventions in comparison to how little clothes he owned.

“Well, you sit there and I’ll be back in just a moment”

Obediently he sat down on the stool, feeling a little worried about him leaving even if for a few moments. Sqomething about him taking control made him feel wonderfully secure. After Mamma died he had nobody to care for him, no one to tell him what to do. It strangely felt quite good for somebody else to take control. When Abacus returned, it looked to be a large pinstriped sheet in his hands.

“Now this will likely be a bit large on you, but it’ll have to do for now.”

He unfurled the fabric, revealing a white and pale blue pinstripe nightgown. One that would certainly go past Wonkas feet, but the gesture was very touching. Everything abacus was doing for him right now was just.. so kind? Why was he doing this for him? Once again his face screwed up, softly crying as fat tears spilled over.

“Ahh”

Abacus placed the gown on his lap before kneeling to the ground. (With some difficulty with his aching joints) Pulling out a cotton handkerchief from his pocket before dabbing at his cheeks.

“You’re feeling right out of sorts aren’t you?”

The chocolatier just nodded tearfully, allowing his hot teary face be mopped up so carefully. Abacus even getting him a glass of cold water, even if it tasted rather metallic from the Scrubbit plumbing.

“Now I’ll sponge your mattress out, then we can just turn it over for tonight.”

His deep voice narrated, making it his responsibility to make sure the boy could sleep comfortably tonight. Meanwhile Willy changed from the damp clothes into the large nightgown. It smelled softly of lavender soap, much nicer than the usual musty odour of his old pyjamas. Although It came far past his feet, even trailing down like a brides train. When abacus turned from the now turned over and fresh bed, he couldn’t hold back the chuckle at the sight of him.

“Certainly is rather big on you, but it will have to do for tonight.”

He spoke with a smile, guiding a hand on his shoulder towards the bed. He had stripped it and replaced it with fresh smelling sheets. Just before hopping into bed, Willy turned to his case on the desk. It was busy at work pumping out chocolates, but his goal was to turn a little golden handle a few times. It wound for a few moments before a series of notes began to play, a music box tune. A familiar song that always brought him comfort, the exact one his mother would hum under her breath.

“It’s getting late Mr Wonka, perhaps it’s time for you to get settled in bed”

Giving a tap on his shoulder, Willy turned to see his kind expression, holding open the blanket. With a nod he followed, climbing into the now clean and dry bed. For the first time since his mamma was around, he found himself being tucked into the bed. For a moment Abacus wondered what he was doing, bearing in mind that Mr Wonka was indeed a young adult. But there was something about his behaviour right now that didn’t seem usual.

Willy stretched out in bed, pulling the knitted toucan out with his beak poking over the blanket. When Abacus went to leave up though, Willy sat right up in bed with a concerned expression. Upon seeing the reaction to the idea of his departure, Abacus paused for a moment.

“How about I stay for a little while?”

His body relaxed at the statement. Willy didn’t quite know why, but he really really did not want to be away from Abacus right now. Pulling up a stool next to the bed, he noted how Willy began to settle at his presence. Thinking for a moment, he asked the question that had been brewing in his mind for the past hour.

“Im not saying this to offend- Willy, but would you say that you sometimes have a little trouble.. staying grown?”

The question startled Willy at first, trying to process what Abacus had just asked him. He thought for a little while, so much so that Abacus could practically hear the cogs turning round and round in his head. That fuzzy feeling in his head, how sometimes everything around him felt so overwhelming. The overstimulating sensation of feeling so vulnerable. He pulled both his knees up to his chin, finding himself chewing on his thumbnail.

“Maybe..”

Abacus put an arm around the boy, who leant into his shoulder. Perhaps this was simply an outlet that he needed, from what he knew about the chocolatier he had to raise himself after his mother died. He also vaguely remembered from reading from an old psychology textbook that this kind of behaviour could be a result of trauma too. A kind of mental regression response.

“Well i don’t see any problem here, it’s okay to need some extra help and support at times.”

Abacus felt an overwhelming urge to take care of this little boy, especially when seeing the way he held onto the little knitted bird. If this was what he required, he was happy to oblige if he needed him. Then he had a thought, remembering what he was doing before all of this.

“Would you like it if I read you a story? I was in the middle of re-reading an old favourite of mine earlier.”

Willy perked up a little, he couldn’t read books very well. Even with Noodles current teachings, he had vague memories of his mother reading to him, so he nodded furiously. With a smile, Abacus rose up from the stool to return to his room, finding the discarded book lying face down on his desk.

Willy was still tucked beneath the covers, waiting in anticipation. With the book tucked under his arm, Abacus took his place on the stool beside.

“Now this is a very good story, it’s called the Wizard of Oz”

So Abacus began to read the story aloud, Willy taking his place by leaning into his shoulder. Feeling the rumble of the man’s chest as his deep baritone voice narrated the book. At first he tried to follow the words with his voice, like how Noodle taught him so. But it became too muddled for him to follow, all the letters seeming to dance around. Instead he focused on the small inked in illustrations, tracing them gently with his fingertip. He paid attention to the story though for as long as he could, but he couldn’t feel his eyelids drooping. He hadn’t even gotten to the second chapter when he could feel himself drifting off, but he felt a sense of peace that he hadn’t felt in quite a while.

Once the chocolatier was well and truly out of the count, Abacus gently closed the book as to not awaken him. Not before tucking the sheet around his sleeping frame, the boys thumb discreetly tucked away in his mouth. With a smile he crept away, deciding to leave the oil lamp to burn itself out Incase he awoke.

“Goodnight dear Wonka.”

[a-really-mediocre-writer]

angel of small death, chapter one

Welcome to my Daryl Dixon slow burn fan fiction, I hope you enjoy!

Summary for entire work: Piper, a 19 year old girl, alongside her 16 year old sister, Dina, are thrust into a dead-infested wasteland of the world they once knew. Having had a difficult home life before turn, will this new world be a sweet release?

<< O N E>>>

It’s been a month since the day my mother was murdered and so much has changed. Riots broke out on the highway we were stuck on after we all watched in horror as the city was bombed and that was the moment we decided that we needed to get off that highway. Shane and Lori were cautiously speed walking back to their car and as they did so, Shane knocked on the passenger window making myself and Adina jump. He was telling us that they were going to leave, and he was inviting to bring us with him to safety. I nodded to him and said that we would go with him, so we got our bags and left the car, meeting up with Shane, Lori, and her son Carl, as well as meeting Carol, Ed, and Sophia Peltier.

Now, we are all in a larger group of survivors tucked away in a quarry; most of the people I have met since being here are decent and friendly enough, like a young man around my age, Glenn Rhee, who offers his help to everyone around the camp. However, some are…not as great. Ed Peltier is an abusive husband and father, and no one is ever able to forget it with their tent not being soundproof, and Ed having no shame in covering them in bruises.

I’ve managed to make some friends here despite the circumstances- Andrea is the member I have become closest to because of how similar our situations are with having to be the older sister/parent substitute.

There is one however who I can’t quite tell what type of person he is. Daryl Dixon. The younger brother of the loudmouthed bigoted Merle Dixon. Although they are brothers, they are practically polar opposites, in terms of volume at least, with Merle’s mouth spouting off enough for himself and his brother, who for the most part keeps to himself, going hunting on his own to provide for the group and earn his keep. In fact, their hunting is most likely the only reason that Shane, the self-proclaimed leader of the camp, hasn’t put his foot down more and gotten rid of them both.

As a woman in this camp, my jobs are mostly to just to cook and clean, because apparently the end of the world means the reverse of women’s liberation. I don’t mind it though; I mean sure it’s boring but at least me and Dina aren’t dead or putting ourselves on the front line going on runs into the city and getting up close with the dead.

I was tasked with going around the tents and collecting their laundry. Great. Every tent goes by smoothly until I get to the furthest ones from the middle of camp- the Dixons. I approached the area awkwardly trying to figure out if they were nearby or if they had gone hunting, and unlucky for me Merle emerged from the treeline with a few squirrels in hand.

“Wo-ho-hooo there darlin’” I freeze as he addresses me, “Whatcha think ya doin’ snoopin’ ‘round mah shit?” He dramatically waves his hands in the air as he speaks, taking large strides over towards me, “Weren’t tryna steal nothin’ were ya?” He at this point is getting in my face and lowering his voice to try and intimidate me, pushing his body against the basket full of dirty laundry that I was trying to use to put some space between us. “Cuz ya know I can’t let that shit slide, right honey?” As he speaks he keeps pushing himself closer, as I clench my jaw and turn my head to the side so I’m not forced to stare at him, which he doesn’t like one bit. “SPEAK WHEN YER SPOKEN TO!” he suddenly shouts, making me jump as spit sprays at my face.

“Hey! What’s goin’ on back here?” I hear Shane shout as he approaches, seeing Merle still standing in front of me refusing to move. I move my head to look him in the eyes and straightening my back, standing my ground. “Someone needs to put this bitch in’er place,” He says loud enough for Shane and the crowd of onlookers that have gathered around us, “I know what’ll sortcha out, girl.” The second part he leans in towards my ear to say quieter before leaning back to check my face, now full of disgust. He goes to open his mouth again, so I spit at him and push him backwards with the basket, making him trip and stumble over himself from the surprise.

“Do your own damned laundry.” I mutter as I walk away towards the other women already at work by the water.

“You alright?” Shane quietly asks as I walk past him.

“Just fine!” I shout back, not stopping until I’m by the water.

What an asshole.

With Merle feeling emasculated by the whole situation earlier, by the time I get back up to camp he has volunteered to go on a run that some people in the group are going on tomorrow morning, to the dismay of everyone else going with him.

That night I spend staring up at the top of the tent lost in my own thoughts until Dina speaks from the entrance of the tent.

“You alright? You hardly had anything to eat before coming in here.” She asks me whilst zipping up the tent. The truth was that you didn’t want to eat any food brought back by Merle after what had happened that day, especially with him glaring daggers at you from where he was sat eating alone.

“Yeah, just peachy.” I say sarcastically and scoff, sitting up to look over at my sister om the other side of our new home.

“I heard what happened with Merle…such an asshole- I heard ya got him back though” she says the last part with a giggle and we both start laughing.

“Yeah I did, almost sent him flyin’ and landin’ on his ass. Too bad he just tripped.”

Dina snorts, “Yeah well, you’ve made lifelong enemies now with the Dixons, sleep with one eye open or else.”

We both lay down and continue talking quietly to each other like two friends at a sleepover until I hear footsteps outside the tent. I hushed her and slowly got up, quickly opening the tent to catch the culprit, finding a dead squirrel outside the entrance.

“What the…” I say as I pick it up and scan the campsite, not seeing anyone around. Who would do this? Was this Merle apologising? I’m so confused right now… but it’s too late to worry about this, so I go back into the tent and show my sister what I found before we both settle down and go to sleep.

The next morning when I wake up, I get dressed into my cargo pants, a black cami top and boots, then head out to start my day, seeing everyone preparing for the run into town. I make a point to go over to everyone as they are packing supplies and wish them safe travels- that is everyone except Merle Dixon, who right now cannot take his eyes off me, full of hatred and watching my every movement as if he wants to punch me in the face. As I was hugging and saying goodbye to Andrea, he started to make his way over to me, only to be stopped by his brother putting a hand on his shoulder, “C’mon man…” he mutters to him to try and nudge him away from us, and now Andrea and I have shifted our focus to Merle.

“Woah now- I ain’t tryna stir the pot baby brother, jus’ wan’ a hug an’ kiss goodbye of my own from lil miss sunshine over here. Ain’t nice to exclude, missy.” I roll my eyes at him and glance behind him to look at Daryl’s expression, which is one of sheer embarrassment as he avoids eye contact with me and his face flushes.

“Try to not get eaten out there, asshole,” I glared at him, “cuz that would be a damned shame.” I look between them all once more, hugging Andrea one last time before leaving them all, making my way over to Dale who is sat atop his RV.

“Hey, Dale?” I look up at him and get his attention, “Who was on watch last night? Straight after dinner?”

“Uhhm…Not too sure, might’ve been Shane, why what’s up?” He asks with some concern. “Oh alright, was just wondering if you had seen who left the little gift I got last night? Got a squirrel left outside mine and Dina’s tent, is all…” I trail off and glance around the camp trying to spot Shane to interrogate him next. Spotting him chopping some firewood, I say goodbye and thanks to Dale and make my way over to the officer.

“Hey, were you on watch last night…?” I ask him awkwardly, feeling like a nuisance. He glances up at me for a second before going back to chopping wood, having a guilty look on his face. “Yeah, why? Somethin’ happen I don’t know ‘bout?” He chops the wood more aggressively than before- weird, is he hiding something? Sure seems guilty enough…

“Someone left me a squirrel outside my tent last night and I didn’t see who it was…was just wondering if you knew who in case a certain redneck left me poisoned food,” I joke, “You didn’t see anything, right?” He chops one more piece of wood and then leaves the axe in the tree stump, straightening his back and walking over to me.

“Listen here darlin’,” He lowers his voice with an intense look in his eyes, “I ain’t see nothin’ ‘bout no damned squirrel…Ain’t no one gotta know ‘bout me not bein’ on watch last night, so I suggest ya keep it to yerself.”

Woah. What is going on?

---

A/N AAAAHHH IM SO NERVOUS TO POST THIS I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY IT, i have not written any more of this as of posting this so please lmk what you think!! <3

[bagerfluff]

Fire And Feelings

Leo Valdez x Half-Blood Non-Binary Reader

Prompt - Fire

You ran into the engine room of the Argo II with a fire extinguisher in your hands. You had smelt smoke in there and you wanted to make sure there was no fire. You didn’t feel like plummeting out of the sky with a giant ball of fire.

You also knew that Leo was there.

Even though you knew that Leo couldn’t get burned you were still scared that Leo could be hurt by something else. You didn’t want Leo to get hurt. You cared about him too much for that to happen.

He had also spent the better part of a few hours there doing God knows what because he said he wanted to make sure everything was fine. You had guessed that everything wasn't fine. Once you got to the engine room you entered and all you saw was smoke.

It was making it hard to breath and see but there as far as you could see there was no fire. You let one hand fall from the extinguisher but you still kept it by your side, ready if there was fire. You used your free hand to swat smoke away from your face.

You wished Jason was down here, maybe he could use his wind powers to get rid of the smoke. But you told everyone that you could handle this. After a few minutes most of the smoke had cleared out and you were pretty sure that a few years were taken off your lifespan by inhaling that much smoke.

You looked around again trying to find Leo but all you saw was fire. You brought your fire extinguisher back up and got ready to use it when you heard something.

“Is it hot in here, is it just you?”

You swatted more smoke out of the way to see Leo with a smirk on his face. You knew he was the one that flirted with you, there was no one else down here. You also noticed that Leo was on fire. His hair had some small patches of fire in his and his clothes looked like someone had brought a match to his haphazardly.

You knew Leo couldn’t be hurt from the fire but you were still scared.

“You're on fire! Stop flirting dumbass!”

You dropped the fire extinguisher, not wanting to spray him with it, you knew that the stuff that came out of it was probably the best and you and Leo had already inhaled smoke. You ran over to Leo and started patting out the fire that was in his hair. Leo smiled and patted his clothes.

After all of the fire was out on Leo all of the smoke had left the room and everything in the engine room looked fine. “Is everything okay? Everyone smelt smoke and was worried?” You asked Leo after taking a step back and looking around.

After taking another look around, you saw that everything looked fine. Though you were not the best with machines so you couldn’t really know. “Everything's better now that you're here,” Leo said in a flirty tone. Though when you looked Leo in the eyes you could tell he wasn’t telling the truth. You rolled your eyes at Leo’s flirting and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Okay. But what happened that caused smoke to fill the room and almost kill me?” You asked Leo. Leo suddenly didn’t look so confident and started to play around with a wrench he had in his hands.

You knew Leo wanted to say something so you waited.

And waited.

And waited.

But Leo said nothing.

He looked like he was thinking about what to say but didn’t say it. “Okay. If you don’t want to tell me then you don’t have to tell me. But I’m going to leave. I have stuff to do”. You said before you picked up your fire extinguisher and left the room.

Leaving a blushing Leo standing there wishing he had said something.

You mumbled curses to the Gods as you walked down into the engine room for the fourth time this week. And it was only wednesday. Everysince this first happened it keeps happening. Nobody was even surprised anymore.

They just all sighed as you got up and got the fire extinguisher and tried to get Leo to tell you what was wrong. He wouldn’t tell you, in fact he wouldn’t tell anyone. Not even Piper or Jason. This was getting annoying.

You placed the fire extinguisher outside the engine room and walked in. Most of the smoke was gone since you walked to the room instead of running. Leo was standing off to the right and he was patting his hair that was smoking slightly. You walked in front of Leo and glared at him, crossing your arms over your chest.

You were angry at him.

Why couldn’t he tell you or anyone what was wrong. Leo could tell you were angry so he looked at the floor instead of you. You took a deep breath in and out. You didn’t want to yell and Leo you just wanted to know why the engine room went up in smoke every day.

“Leo. Why did the engine room go out in smoke for the fourth time this week? I know something is happening, everybody does, but you haven’t told me, well you are now”. You said sternly. Leo seemed to get more nervous when you said that.

“Well” Leo said, after that he kept opening and closing his mouth. Trying to say something but he couldn’t find the words. After ten minutes you were getting more angry. Why wasn’t Leo telling you what was wrong. But beneath that anger was worry.

You cared about Leo.

You had a crush on Leo since he first came to Camp Half-Blood. It only grew when you were asked by him to join him and the rest of the half-bloods on the Argo II.

You said yes, though it wasn’t smart.

Anything could happen, war could happen. So you kept your feelings hidden. But now that Leo was standing in front 

of you, scared and nervous, you wanted nothing more than to hug him and tell him that everything was going to be okay. But you didn’t even know what was wrong, Leo wouldn’t tell you.

That hurt.

Did Leo not trust you? You took another deep breath.

You needed to make Leo feel like he was safe here, reassure him that he could tell you anything and your friendship with him wouldn’t change. You do think you could ever hate Leo. “Leo” You said, getting Leo’s attention from the floor to you.

“I care about you, everybody on this ship does. We want to help you but we can’t help you if you don’t tell us, or at least me what's wrong". You uncrossed your arms from your chest and walked closer to Leo. Leo looked anywhere but your face.

He looked at his hands, the walls, the floor too. Anywhere but your face. You didn’t rush him. But eventually he started speaking. “I have been causing the smoke. You I- I start to think about- about you and how I love you. But I think- I think how you could never- never like me back”.

When Leo finished out could see tears slowly running down his face. Like he was trying to stop them from falling. Your heart broke when you heard Leo confess but you also felt happy, Leo liked you back.

You were still worried about what could happen but you didn’t really care at the moment. That was a thing for you to worry about in the future.

“Well. I guess it's a good thing I like you back” you said and with a smile as you moved closer to grab Leo’s face and kiss him. Leo was shocked but quickly kissed back. When you both pulled away you saw a bit of fire on top of Leo’s head. You laughed at that.

Leo was your little Fire Boy.

[amorhedera6]

thinking about the lipschitz family now.

(this isn’t including a trans richie. not because i don’t love that headcannon, but bc i forgot about it until i was halfway in)

- eloise and david started dating when they were 15

- they both were planning on leaving hatchetfield for college but staying together, until eloise got pregnant. with twins.

- so neither of them went to college, and they moved in with david’s parents, since he was an only child and she had two little brothers. (one of whom is paul matthews but don’t worry about that)

- they find out that they’re having twins and they are going crazy. david gets a few part time jobs to pay for all the shit, like her hospital bills, baby clothes, shit like that.

- she gives birth to trevor, and several hours later, richie. the two are identical twins.

- over the next three years, things are hard for them, as the boys grow up and the two work a lot.

- richie and trevor spend a lot of those with their grandparents and uncles, because eloise and david are constantly working.

- especially bc they were born in 2003 and so an economic crisis is almost here! so the little family lives with their grandparents for a long time.

- when he’s 5, richie gets an ear infection that leaves him partially deaf. they all learn sign language and make sure ur doesn’t progress, but they don’t have the money to get him a hearing aid or anything the like.

- at 6, trevor has so many friends. he has play dates all the time, and richie goes with him, but richie doesn’t really have friends. he has a hard time talking to the other kids, prefers to play by himself of with his hands.

- richie gets an autism diagnosis at 7, and they decide to ask trevor some question too. he does not have autism, which can happen for identical twins, i looked it up.

- when he’s 8, richie makes his first friend. peter spankoffski, who becomes a permanent very quickly. richie spends a lot of time at peter’s house, or his older brother’s apartment, and peter spends a lot of time at their house. trevor plays with them, but usually doesn’t want to go with richie to peters.

- eloise and david get married when the boys are 9, when they realize ‘oh yeah, we never did that. maybe we should!’ it’s a very small thing, since they don’t have that much money, but all of their families are invited, and they have an excellent time. richie and trevor are the ring bearers.

- trevor joins the school play when he’s 10, and absolutely loves it. he has trouble with his lines, but he makes a great abraham lincoln, and he’s cute enough that no one in the audience cares if he screws up the gettysburg address. he wants to do more of it now.

- richie starts watching obs ute tv shows and loving them. he becomes obsessed with anime and japanese culture.

- the two both have overactive sweat glands, but trevor wears a shit ton of axe body spray to hide it. richie says it hurts his nose. the two fight across the dinner table about it.

- the thing is, richie and trevor are very very different. trevor is an outgoing theatre kid and richie is a nerdy weeb, but they are brothers and the love each other a lot even when they pretend not to.

- they share a room for most of their life, up until they’re 13, when they finally move out of their grandparents house. they get a house for the four of them, which is two doors down from the flemming house. ruth and richie quickly become good friends. ruth and peter are apparently in the same dance group, so it’s all fun and friendship.

- they reach high school and go their separate ways, socially. trevor will talk to richie in the hall ways, but he’s a theatre kid and has theatre friends, and richie’s a nerd. ruth’s a theatre kid too, but she thinks trevor is fucking annoying, so she prefers to hang out with richie.

- when the boys are 14, they get a little sister. piper lipschitz. richie is a big protector of her, and swears to look out for her. trevor thinks she’s fun to play with, and messes around with her a lot as she grows up.

- at 17, richie starts dating travis coulson, a friend who goes to sycamore and works at the cineplex. they have a very akward family dinner and trevor makes fun of them a lot.

- at 18, trevor goes to sweden on exchange and comes back with a boyfriend. rudolph comes to america in exchange right after, and they go to homecoming together. they have an akward family dinner with lots of language barriers, since trevor only knows half swedish and rudolph only knows half english. it works well for the two of them, but with the whole family it’s kind of a mes. richie laughs mercilessly at them.

-when the boys graduate, richie is going to film school in boston and trevor is going to theatre school in ny. they hug very hard before they have to go.

these are my thoughts about them following jons stream ty

[notreallyanywhere]

What Tartarus smells like to the Seven + Reyna and Nico

I have not read Sun and the Stars yet. However, this is only partially based on what we've been told anyway. These are, of course, headcannons. Do with them what you please.

Nico: It smells like the day he found out Bianca was dead. Because he smells Percy's scent mixed in it, it's comforting. Which in and of itself is terrifying. He's in love, in the barest sense of the word, with what the body of Tartarus deemed his worst nightmare.

After HoO it smells almost the same but it also smells like the taste of pomegranate seeds and when you've been sitting in a car for too long that all you're really inhaling is your own recycled air. It's stuffy-er and hard to breathe. And yet it still feels like a blanket that's suffocating him. Like when he was six and Bianca and his mother wrapped him up in a heavy blanket and cuddled with him until he fell asleep after a nightmare.

Reyna: It smells like the day Percy and Annabeth released Black Beard and his pirates on Circe's island. It also smells like must and the forgotten attic in her home from before. It smells like grass and blood and sea water. It smells like her best and worst memories with her sister. It smells like betrayal and whispers of freedom that she can't quite reach. It also smells a little too much like the way the one person that Nico killed's ghost smelled with stone and cold mixed together.

Jason: It smells like a park. Wet woodchips and an old picnic blanket. It smells like the day he was taken away from his his sister. It also smells like the bath soaps of Camp Jupiter and like the metal of Reyna's dogs. Because even after everything, he's still afraid of going home; to call any place home lest he be pulled away from it again. Because twice is a coincidence, but three times is a pattern with only himself as the common factor.

Piper: It smells like her room back in the mansion she used to live with her dad in. Like spray paint and gasoline and the oils her dad always put in his hair and never kept the promise to show her how to use. It smells like ice, snow, and the coldest winter's day she could think of. Like she's twelve again and stealing her first car because her dad missed her birthday for the first time since she was born and she hadn't seen him in three months. It smells like Leo's death and Jason's last breath. It smells like losing everything she's come to care about.

Leo: It smells like motor oil and fire. So not only does it remind him of his mother's death, but also his own. He's one of the few who don't know that Tartarus is supposed to smell like your worst fears. Sometimes, when he's panicking and tired and far too deep into Tartarus, another layer of scent covers the rest. Like dust and mold and dirt and old leather. It smells like being forgotten.

Hazel: It smells like the first time she died. Like wet dirt and gemstones smashing together. It smells like an empty stable and Sammy's hair. It smells like cupcakes and "Happy Birthday"s and long lost love. It smells like her past but more bitter and distant. Because to her, going back to then, no matter how tempting it sounds, is too terrifying for her to even imagine. She doesn't want to know too much about what's going to happen, and she doesn't want to be exploited until she dies anymore. To her, going back to the past is far more horrifying because then, for the rest of her life, she'll be surrounded by living ghosts.

Frank: It smells like embers of a burned out fire. Like the material of his mother's army uniform. Like Lystrogonian breath and potatoes and a burning house, like burning memories. It smells like ibuprofen and headaches and dirt. It stings his nose like he just smelled something spicy. Because, at the end of the day, Frank is afraid of very few things. But what he is afraid of is tied deep in his roots, burning alongside him since he was born. No matter what animal he shape-shifts into, they're all afraid of fire. Because that's one of the few fears that isn't only human.

Annabeth: Tartarus smells like blood and gold and crumbling rock. Like the screams of her campers and the cries and pleas for death. It smells like spiders and tastes like cobwebs. Because sometimes, when a smell is so strong, it's like you can taste it. It smells like, just barely, her stepmother's perfume and like the detergent her dad used when he cleaned her sheets. It smells like Luke and cyclopses and the golden shower of monsters she once dreamed of. It smells like Thalia's scream of indignanance and defiance as she died. It smells like lava.

Percy: Aside from what we know, to Percy, it smells like gunpowder and blood. Like beer and smoke. Like every person he couldn't save. Like every moment he watched the light fade from someone's eyes just so he could continue living, continue being useful. To Percy, it has more of a physical experience. To him, it feels like water going up his nose and burning his throat and sinuses, but it never really goes away.

Along the lines of what we know, in comes a question. Why did the monsters never smell him? Simple, really.

Monsters tend to avoid other monsters. Or, what smells like them, at least.

Because Rick told us that Percy's Tartarus smells like Smelly Gabe, we can assume that The Pit, to Percy, smells the closest than any other demigods' idea of it.

So, not only does it smell like every time he blamed himself for another's death, but it smells like his old room. Like old beer cans and BO. Like nasty porn magazines and new decks of cards. Tartarus reeks to Percy of every moment he was alone with Smelly Gabe. Reeks like every moment he's ever doubted himself and something terrible happened.

[aroaceleovaldez]

cool weapon ideas for Riordanverse characters (OCs or otherwise) since MCGA/TOA only barely started giving us more weapons than “sword, knife/dagger, spear, bow” (garrote, sickles, manuballista/crossbow, blowdart, nets, misuse of instruments, etc)

Remember that one BoO cover where Leo randomly had a chainsaw. Yeah. If you need a mortal item for it to be disguised as like Riptide’s pen form, you could totally make it like a belt chain or something that turns into a chainsaw. That’d be fun.

Similarly. Leo should get to use his toolbelt as a blunt force weapon. Like the office fight scene from EEAAO. Do you see my vision.

Also remember the old headcanons about Will making a lasso/whip out of light with photokinesis powers? That was cool.

Baseball bat / Baseball bat with nails are always good. I have an old OC with that and also i saw a post the other day about Piper with one.

Meteor hammer / rope dart. They’re just cool (again: See office fight scene from EEAAO). My friend and I have an OC that has a meteor hammer yo-yo.

More demigods with their godly parents’ iconic weapons! Meg got sickles, let’s keep it up. Poseidon kids with tridents. Hades kids with bidents. Apparently one of Bellona’s weapons is a whip. Where’s the Indiana Jones Bellona kids.

Obligatory “give somebody a scythe” (works for any chthonic or plant-themed demigod)

 PICKAXES. This sounds silly but ancient Romans actually wielded pickaxes and similar in war and did use them as weapons. So like. where’s my Romans who are about to put a pickaxe through someone’s teeth. come on. Similarly - Slings/slingshots! Hooks! Shovels/spades! These were also all legitimately used in ancient Roman combat.

Axes. We see like, two characters use axes in MCGA. There should be more. In a somewhat similar vein, hammers! Big war hammers! LT Musical!Silena had a big hammer and it was great.

Put some more variation in our swords/knives/daggers! Throwing knives! Maybe also throwing stars. Javelins! Lances! Tbh just throw stuff. Also unique types of blades, cause we’re technically not bound by Greco-Roman or even like, Indo-european. weapons. Even if we were, there’s lots of options. Like falx. Which i have just learned about but they look cool.

Brass knuckles. Claws. Maybe even some type of fang weapons. Don’t tell me you have an entire camp of teens trained by WOLVES and not a SINGLE ONE OF THEM went “wait hold on. i have an idea.”

Will Solace should get to use medical equipment in combat. As a treat. Imagine him wielding like, a bone saw or something. Really just saws in general seem like an intimidating weapon, even if not very practical.

Silly weapons. Give me a demigod with a pizza cutter. Frying pan. Misc sports equipment (Bring back Luke’s golf club!). Maybe even a discus? Give me Aphrodite kids making DIY flamerthrowers out of perfume and aerosol sprays. Anything.

[pjoxreader]

Hello 👋 Hope you stay safe at Comic con

For this request, could you do a monster eater!reader x Grover, Piper and Reyna (separately) where the reader is basically angered by how much the monsters have killed some of the campers, so decides to eat them while still alive, the could take place where a monster is attacking the reader's s/o and then they see reader start eating them.

(Sorry if it's too long)

TL;DR

Reader eats monsters as revenge, then monsters try attacking their s/o so the reader decides to eat the monster Infront of their s/o

Monster Eater Reader

TW: Blood, Gore, throwing up ((Heavy on the warning for this one! Unfortunately no Comic Con for me the person I'm going with canceled 🫠))

Grover Underwood

-You were almost back to camp when the monsters attacked. You were all exhausted from the long trip and everything hurt. It was already a long quest with plenty of monsters but of course the trip back couldn’t be easy either.

-There you three were, staring down a horde of monsters. Grover was standing in front of the demigod the two of you had been sent to pick up and escort to camp protectively but it didn’t take a genius to notice how nervous he was.

-That’s when it happens, a harpy swoops down and takes a chunk from Grover’s shoulder. His cry of pain, the gorey wound that starts to stream blood down his shirt and the grimace of pain on his face is enough to start the rage bubbling inside of you. “I-I’m ok It’s just…” The look of pain on Grovers face mixed with the worry was enough to make you snap, not even hearing his words.

-You don’t remember what happened next, everything was blank but when you come back you see Grover’s scared face. He looked almost… Horrified…? “Grover..?” Your voice was hoarse and as you touched your neck you saw how bloody your hands were. -That’s when you felt it, the blood going down your chin. As you looked around you noticed all the monsters were gone, bloody chunks ripped from them. Did… Did you do that? Grover had a hand on his pan flute unsure if he would have to fight you a few tears in his eyes… The realization crushes on you like a wave. He was scared of you. 

Piper Mclean

-”it’ll be ok...” Piper says, maybe she was using a bit of charm speak because you started to believe her. But deep in your gut you felt like something was going to go very, very wrong. 

-A Fury sweeps down and lunges her talons at her, making you stop in your tracks only being able to stare in horror. Piper’s scream of pain quickly gripping her side and the blood that sprays out. The Fury *laughs* at Piper’s pain before eating the chunk of gore.

-You feel the rage boil inside you as your eyes go red, honing in on that one harpy through the crowd of monsters. Then you charge. The rest becomes a blur, blood. Guts, screams of pain. It all flashes by like scenes in a movie.

-When you come too your hands are buried deep in the monster's guts, one hand halfway to your mouth with the intenses of the fury when you stop.

-With the metallic taste in your mouth you knew this wasn’t your first bite. As you turned to look at Piper you could see the look of horror and fear on her face. Ah… She must have seen everything…

-Soon enough she moves the hands covering her mouth to turn to her side, throwing everything up in her stomach to the point she was dry heaving. You just stare down at your own hands knowing that Piper wouldn’t want you over there right now. And you couldn’t blame her.

Reyna Ramírez-Arellano

-You were both surrounded by Scythian Dracaenae having fallen victim to their ambush, Reyna has her spear at the ready but the two of you knew there were too many.

-One lunges at Reyna from behind, taking a chunk from the meat of her arm. With a yell of pain she flips the monster over and manages to spear it in its throat while it was surprised. Reyna was strong, but seeing that monster take a bite out of Reyna ignited something inside of you.

-Rage. You roar in anger and charge, you could hear Reyna shout something but couldn’t make any words out. Fully focused on your mania. You could hear the roar of fighting the squelching of guts and monsters dying one after the other. -Wait… The squelching of guts…? You look down at your hands and see that you were currently eating fistfulls of gore. You could taste the blood in your mouth, the strands of meat hanging between your teeth.

-You turn to look at Reyna and see she was wielding her spear, but this time it was pointed at you. Her face was stern, serious and deadly but there was pain clear in her eyes. At that moment you’re forced to realize she saw you just as dangerous as those monsters…

~Masterlist & Rules~

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[zirawrites]

Companions react to getting hit in the face with a snowball that Sole threw

Cait: Pure rage. Cait is already hurling a snowball of her own by the time Sole rights their posture. It’s tightly packed and filled with debris from Sanctuary’s sullied, post-nuclear floor. The snowball hits Sole between their eyes, and Cait’s anger quickly melts with both their laughter.

Codsworth: He doesn’t have a face, but Sole connects their snowball with his round metal body, and it exploded on impact, spraying Sole with their own creation. “General Atomics at it’s finest, sir/mum!”

Curie: She gasps and scoops down with one hand to make a snowball of her own, trying to halt Sole from throwing another with the other. “A moment to retaliate, please!” Curie clumsily tries to roll the snow with trembling fingers. She’s never made a snowball before. “You have a most unfair advantage!”

Danse: The soldier is more surprised than upset. He wasn’t used to a subordinate catching him off-guard. And Danse was a little impressed Sole managed to hit him square in the face from where he towered over them in his power armor.

Deacon: “Oh god, the humanity!” Sole stops from throwing a second snowball at Deacon’s dramatic overreaction. They ask him what’s wrong, and he gestures hopelessly to the floor. “You’re just lobbing snowman body parts around like cannon fodder! You monster!” He can’t help but laugh at his own joke, but the sound is quickly cut off by Sole’s second snowball.

Hancock: Hancock is so high it takes him a solid ten seconds to realize Sole threw anything at all. Then he chuckles lowly, wiping the cold residue from his scaly brow. “You’re gonna regret that, Sunshine.” His words are laced with amusement, and he dips to the floor to make a snowball of his own.

MacCready: “Hey, no fair! I wasn’t ready!” He’s an absolute baby about it, and only cheers up when he throws a snowball back, hitting Sole squarely in the chest.

Preston: Preston is all laughter and smiles despite the frost clinging to his nose. “Lucky shot, General.” He would never throw one back.

Piper: Piper’s surprised laughter is cut short when she slips backwards over a patch of ice. Sole runs to her aid in three short strides, and when they bend down to pull her up she shoves a handful of snow in their face. “Gotcha, Blue!” Sole lets go of her arm and she falls back down with a squeal.

Nick: Nick doesn’t find it funny. Does Sole know how bad water is when it gets inside his circuits? He starts to lecture them, and Sole responds with another snowball.

X6-88: The snowball knocks X6′s glasses off his face. His stare alone has Sole running.