#this is from a shop called duck donuts.

[the-quasar-hero]

Share so everyone can make their pick

[bagopucks]

J. Drysdale - Orange, Orange, Orange

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Jamie Drysdale x Fem!reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warning(s): cuss words, reader wanting to strangle Trevor✨

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Everybody has their own playoff traditions. For most teams, it’s the beards. And every stadium also has a different approach. For the Anaheim Ducks and Honda Center, it’s ‘Paint It Orange.’

Jamie and Trevor go all out. Their apartment gets decorated completely. Orange throw pillows, orange plates and cups, orange shower curtain. Anything that can be replaced for cheap during the playoffs. It’s atrocious. I love seeing my boyfriend and his clingy bestie, but god I hate seeing that orange. It’s too much.

Do I tell them that? Absolutely not.

The boys love it. They love getting into the playoff spirit, and I’d even venture to say it’s a ritual now. A superstition that they add to every year. This year I was anticipating orange drapes or maybe even an orange carpet.. but I couldn’t have been farther from the right idea.

Trevor and Jamie had been radio silent all day. Both in our group chat and in individual texts. It was unlike them. Especially Jamie, who always texted me in the morning. I was suspicious, but I didn’t think too much into it. We were coming up on the first playoff game. Two days away. It was likely that they were only anxious. Antsy.

I thought maybe a quick box of donuts might be nice. I swung by a local donut shop and picked up two dozen before making the drive to their place. Jamie always enjoyed the jelly filled and chocolate covered ones, but Trevor had so many things he enjoyed that it was hard to remember all the flavors. And knowing these boys and their appetites, it was safer to get two dozen.

When I got to their place, I gently kicked their door with my foot a few times, seeing as my hands were full. I heard a faint, ‘coming’ from Trevor. I eyed the orange wreath on their door while I waited. It was new. That must have been the addition for this year’s playoff run. They hadn’t had one in a while. I would have expected something more drastic to celebrate.

When the door opened, I was met with a shirtless Trevor. His long hair was pulled back in a ponytail -no doubt one I left behind at some point- and his shorts were covered in orange. His arms had a bit of the orange substance on them as well. My brow furrowed.

“Hey! You brought us donuts. That’s awesome.” Trevor smiled, “can you bring ‘em inside? Just toss them on the counter.” He stepped aside, letting me in before he shut the door and locked it.

“Trevor, what’s going on?” I asked as I walked through the house, greeted by the ugly oranges of their decorations. I set the boxes of donuts on the counter, opening one to pull out one of the jelly filled treats. I took a bite out of it as I turned to look at Trevor.

“Stuff.” He answered, nodding a little too dramatically for me to believe him.

“Where’s Jamie?”

“Out.” I didn’t like or believe that answer either.

“Doing what?” I pressed on.

“Hey! Who’s that?” I heard Jamie shout, his voice echoing from a room I could only assume was the bathroom. Trevor’s face fell the moment he knew he’d been caught in his own lie.

“It’s your girlfriend! She brought us donuts!” Trevor called, the volume of his voice irritating my ears. I winced.

“You’re such a liar, Trevor.” I scoffed out, shaking my head at him.

“Tell her to come here! She can help!” Even yelling, Jamie’s voice sounded soft.

Trevor looked at me with a cautious gaze, and I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Why don’t you want me here?” I immediately asked, accusation in my tone. Trevor refused to answer right out.

“Oh boy…” he mumbled. Clearly, he knew whatever I was about to see, I was not going to like. “Come on.”

I followed incredibly close behind Trevor, contemplating a few times, simply pushing him out of the way. But once we got to the bathroom, I was glad we’d taken our time getting there. It gave me time to brace myself.

The gasp I drew in was second to none, horrified and surprised in the worst ways.

I stood there in shock for maybe a total of ten seconds. A ticking time bomb.

“So… you like it?” The optimism in Trevor’s voice set me off.

“What the fuck?” I shouted, staring down at my shirtless boyfriend and his lathered orange hair. “Jamie! What the fuck?”

Trevor was standing behind me, and I could tell the boys were looking at each other when my boyfriend’s eyes drifted past me.

“This is why I told you not to invite her.” Trevor mumbled. I spun on my heels.

“Because I don’t want my boyfriend looking like..” I paused, looking back at Jamie. He flashed me a nervous smile. “Like the Lorax?” I wasn’t necessarily angry.. just.. caught off guard. Nobody informed me of this. Nobody told me I was going to have to look at Jamie like this for possibly months.

“So you don’t like it?” Jamie’s smooth voice piped up, causing my tense gaze to move from Trevor back to the once dark haired man. I pursed my lips, trying to calm myself as I noticed the concern in Jamie’s features.

“I’ll be honest with you J.. I don’t. No.” His face fell. I shook my head as I kicked my shoes off and stepped onto the dirty towels on the floor. I glanced at him in the mirror, then back down to his figure sitting on a foldable chair. I immediately reached for a silky lock of wet orange hair, still covered in fresh dye. “Oh my god…” I mumbled, feeling like a mother with her child.

“That bad, huh?” Jamie inquired, eyeing my reflection in the mirror.

“I love you.. just.. not your orange hair.” He was slow to nod. Jamie never liked knowing I didn’t like something. I always tried to tell him that it didn’t matter. Just because I didn’t like something, didn’t mean he needed to change it or throw it away. But he always wanted to make me happy. I could tell though, that this stressed him out. Because he couldn’t easily fix this.

“It’s not that bad.” Jamie tried to reason.

“No it’s pretty bad.” I wanted to card my hands through his hair, but I couldn’t. These idiots. God knows what this would turn out like. “Jame- your hair is so dark.. what if this turns out looking like shit? Like actual shit? Did you guys even bleach it enough?” Jamie, nor Trevor had a good response. So instead, my boyfriend opted to change the topic.

“Trevor‘s gonna do it too.” I looked back at Trevor while Jamie’s eyes were fixed on himself in the mirror.

Trevor shook his head with a snicker. My brow furrowed at his amusement, and the lines connected when I noticed Trevor was not worried about his own perfect hair.

I realized quickly that this was not a playoff ritual. This was Trevor tricking his best friend into something embarrassing. I would have considered it a prank if I didn’t know how humiliated Jamie would be once he found out.

I wanted to strangle him. I wanted to yell at him. I wanted to grab Trevor by the hair and throw him off the roof. Instead, I came up with a much less hostile approach.

“Thats really sweet of you Trev. At least if it ends badly Jamie won’t look… orange all alone.” I cooed. Trevor looked confused, but I let him off the hook for a moment.

“I don’t like this look.. I really don’t, but if it’s for playoffs, I understand. How much longer does this have to sit, J?” I asked, watching him reach for his phone on the stained counter.

“Thirty more minutes.” I nodded gestured for him to move and sit on the edge of the bath tub. He did so with ease.

“You want this?” I presented the donut I took a bite of to him, and Jamie quickly reached for it. He mumbled a sheepish, ‘thanks,” in return.

“Trevor,” I immediately turned to him. “I’ll help you with your hair.”

It was Trevor’s turn to be concerned, shaking his head and laughing anxiously.

“No.. no.. J’s got it.” He took a step back to escape the bathroom.

“No, I insist. I’d rather it not get anywhere else on Jamie anyway. His arm hair doesn’t need to be orange too. Come on.” I grabbed his arm, pulling him a bit forcefully back into the bathroom.

“I think it’ll look so good on you, Trev.” I taunted as I pushed him down into the chair. “J, can you go get me a drink from the fridge?” Jamie looked up from his phone and nodded, slipping out of the bathroom.

“Fuck you Trevor,” I hissed quietly, “you know how embarrassed he would have been? He probably would’ve chopped all his hair off.” Trevor’s eyes quickly found the floor. I wondered if he even thought this idea through entirely.

“I wish you wouldn’t be so rough on him sometimes. He’s not you, Trev.” My tone softened -though the annoyance remained- as I glanced down at all of the items on the counter. I reached for the bleach and prepped it before grabbing a spare pair of gloves, slipping them on.

“This one was pretty bad, huh?” Trevor muttered, right before Jamie returned with the water. I flashed him a smile as he set it on top of the toilet.

“Getzlaf‘s gonna love this look on you guys.” I was quick to change the subject, beginning to lather the bleach in Trevor’s hair. He may not have even needed it, but I decided to go with it for safe measure. I peeked over at Jamie, who was watching with curious eyes. I realized he already had another donut in hand. I also realized, that the poor kid’s eyebrows were still as dark as can be.

“He’ll support us.” Trevor reasoned.

“I’m sure he will.” Sarcasm laced my tone.

“I think we’ll look pretty cool.” Jamie’s excitement made me feel bad for knowing what I did about Trevor’s plans. And it made me feel bad for disagreeing in my head.

“The coolest, J.” I responded, trying to sound genuine.

It took me around ten minutes to get Trevor’s hair covered well. At that point, it was a waiting game for Jamie. Another fifteen minutes went by where I sat by my boyfriend on the lip of the bath tub, leaning on him as he scrolled through his phone, occasionally moving an orange lock from his eyes that kept falling astray. His mother didn’t like it when his hair got too long, I could only imagine what she’d say when she saw it was a whole new color.

When Jamie’s hair timer had gone off, I made Trevor go and grab me a cup. I helped Jamie sit on the floor and lean his head back into the bath tub, sighing to myself as I turned the bath tub on and found a comfortable temperature for the water.

When Trevor returned with the cup, I took it from him and filled it, resting my hand over Jamie’s eyes as I poured the first round of water through his hair, pushing my fingers through after. This was gonna take a while.

“I’ve seen you blonde.. but this is something else..” I mumbled. I did find momentary joy in the way Jamie’s eyes were closed, enjoying the feeling of having someone wash his hair. His orange hair.

“If this comes out bad, I’m taking you both to the local salon.” I added, getting to a point where the orange didn’t completely stain the water as it went down the drain. I turned off the tub faucet and asked Trevor to get me a towel, which he came back with faster than the cup.

“It’s not Carla,” Trevor shook his head. I glared at him.

“I don’t really care who it is. You’ll go unless you want to look like an off brand red head.” Jamie’s eyes opened, worriedly looking between me and his best friend.

I grabbed the towel from Trevor and turned back to my boyfriend, wrapping the towel around his hair and squeezing it a few times before I helped him sit up, and draped the towel over his shoulders.

“Move.” Trevor didn’t look very pleased that I was kicking him out of his seat, but he did nonetheless. Jamie slipped back into the foldable chair, and I bent over to search the cabinet beneath the sink for my spare hair dryer. When I spotted it, I was quick to pull it out.

I eyed the cord for a moment. “I don’t wrap my hairdryer cords like this.” I glanced between both boys, curious as to who had used my dryer while I was away.

“Sometimes my hair doesn’t dry fast enough before I go out.” Jamie’s gentle confession made my gaze soften.

I plugged the cord into the outlet and opened the medicine cabinet to grab one of the combs inside.

“Wait that’s mine!” I glared over at Trevor before putting the comb back and grabbing the other. Part of me wanted to snap his in half. Torturing Jamie and he still thought he could sit there and make requests.

I turned the hair dryer on, pointing it down at my lover as I slowly ran his comb through his hair. He looked pleased with all the attention. I didn’t mind it.. I just wished I could have given it to him under other circumstances that didn’t involve orange hair.

As his hair dried, the orange took on a much lighter look. Still hideous, but it looked like it would match the jerseys. Jamie took a few pictures of it.

When I had his hair mostly dry, I turned the dryer off and set it on the counter with the comb. I ran my fingers through his hair a few times, ruffling and fixing the part, before I leaned forward to press a kiss to his head.

“Do you like it now?” Jamie spoke softly, his eyes searched my expression in the mirror.

“It’ll grow on my eventually.” I tapped his shoulder. “You wanna help me finish Trev?”

“Oh! Yeah!”

“Trevor sit on the floor and lean your head over the bath.”

I repeated the process of washing hair with Trevor, this time with the help of Jamie, who really just handed me shampoo when I needed it.

When I had his hair washed and towel dried, I had him and Jamie switch places again, and I began to dry Trevor’s hair- with his own comb. After I was sure every strand was no longer damp, I put my dryer away and set Trevor’s comb aside.

“I think when we’re done, you guys should send some photos to your mothers.” I advised, smiling to myself at the thought of either woman’s reaction.

Jamie’s head shot up from his phone. Had he not considered his mother as a factor before agreeing to this?

“She’s gonna flip…”

He hadn’t.

“Oh my god, Jamie-“ I hid my face in my hands to mask my frustration.

“Can you call her with me?” His request was met with a reluctant no from myself.

“You made your bed, lover. And this one you have to lay in alone.” I chuckled. “Good luck.”

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[joshuasearing]

Sunday 16th June 2024

Hey journal so yesterday I started the day off by relaxing for a bit then I got ready for the day. My mum then drove to Chatham. Yesterday I met up with someone called tailie who I met on tiktok and her two friends that are dating. So when in Chatham I soon got picked up and we made are way to Southend. We stopped to at a greggs to get some food and drink. Then we carried on driving to Southend. I have 2 sausage rolls, a white chocolate cookie and also a water. Then once we got there we went in the arcades. We played Mario kart and I lost. Then we played some ice hockey and I won like usual 😂 however one game I drew as the game ran out of time. Then I also played some 2p machines with tailie and I won so many things. I won a few toy cars, loads of dinosaurs and some other things. Then after this we used all of are tickets to buy me a keyring and some sweets then tailie got some things as well. Then also we played this piano game in the arcades and also this sonic Olympic Games game which I lost again I wasn’t very good. Then after a while we went to adventure island and got wristbands. Tailie played a game of hook the duck and won two ducks and also a teddy bear. She ended up picking the soft grey dinosaur. Then after a while we went on a few rollercoasters and they were so good. Also when Tailie went a toilet I went on the ferris wheel with the other lot and when up there It chucked it with rain and was windy making are pod go half fourth and water was getting all of us it was awful but very funny. Then after a while we also got some sugar donuts they were so lovely and were got as well which made them even better. Soon after this we went to the fish and chip shop. It as this restaurant version it was really small but was so cute and nice. Also the chef spoke to us which was nice. I ended up having a burger and chips it was lovely. It also had cheese and bacon inside it was delightful. I did also have a j20. Then after this we went to the arcades again. I played again tailie on the dancing machine I wasn’t very good and it was tiring. Forgot to mention I also did play some basketball in the arcades earlier and I won in that. I was 3 points of the 3 round. You needed 100 points to proceed and I got 97. I also watched Tailie play on the claw machine. Then after a while we went to this place for mini golf and it was all electronically done. Whilst waiting to play we had some drinks and played this photo roulette game on our phones. Anyways mini golf was good although I was not very good.

After mini golf I got dropped off home. Once i got home I ended up near enough going straight to sleep and woke up at about 9am this morning. This morning started the day by watch in my dad look at he’s cards and open presents for Father’s Day. Then my mum dropped me off into town. When in town I got my haircut and got a medium skin fade. Then I went to the shops and got myself some needed deodorant as I was running out. Then I also went kfc and ordered only two mini bbq wraps. However they were so slow in there so it took me 20 minutes or 15 minutes abouts to get them. Then after this I ate them then walked to the gym. Once at the gym I train idc biceps, triceps then a little bit of chest. After this I went on the treadmill for 30 minutes then did some forearms. Then my mum picked me up. Once I got home I played some jackbox games with my little brother and my dad. Then we also ordered in some pizza for Father’s Day so I enjoyed some of that and also some chicken and Fanta. Then after all of this I had a shower and now I am writing in here. Anyways speak to you later journal, bye journal!

Here are some photos from yesterday! ⬇️⬇️⬇️

[trinity-mia]

a story as endless as the ocean

the sea of monsters

0.9 out of sight, not out of mind

warnings : injury, cussing, monster attack, some tragic backstory reveal

word count : 3.6k

0.9 Finding A Powdered Donut Shop in the Middle of the Wilderness Run By Monsters? It's More Likely Than You'd Think

"Thermos!" I shrieked as we hurtled toward the water.

"What?" Luke must've thought that I had lost my mind. He was holding on to the boat straps for dear life, his hair flying all around and making him look like an evil scientist or something.

But, thank the gods, Tyson understood. He managed to open my duffel bag and take out Hermes's magical thermos without losing his grip on it or the boat.

Arrows and javelins whistled past us. An arrow stuck itself in my thigh, but I was a little too preoccupied to care.

I grabbed the thermos and hoped I was doing the right thing. "Hang on!"

"I am hanging on!" Luke yelled back.

"Tighter!"

I hooked my feet under the boat's inflatable bench, and as Tyson grabbed Luke and I by the backs of our shirts, I gave the thermos cap a quarter turn.

Instantly, a white sheet of wind jetted out of the thermos and propelled us sideways, turning our downward plummet into a forty-five-degree crash landing.

The wind seemed to laugh as it shot from the thermos, like it was glad to be free. As we hit the ocean, we bumped once, twice, skipping like a stone, then we were whizzing along like a speed boat, salt spray in our faces and nothing but sea ahead.

I heard a wail of outrage from the ship behind us, but we were already out of weapon range.

The Princess Andromeda faded to the size of a white toy boat in the distance, and then it was gone, out of sight, but certainly not out of mind.

Now that we were out of immediate danger, the pain in my thigh registered and Luke's eyes widened as he saw the two-and-a-half-foot-long arrow sticking out of me. Without any thought, I shoved the thermos into Luke's hands and I pulled the arrow out. Ignoring the blood now gushing from my leg, I simply stuck my leg into the water until the wound healed. 

"Well, damn. That's one way to do it, Angel." 

I just nodded. 

As we raced over the sea, Luke and I tried to send an Iris-message to Chiron. We figured it was important we let somebody know what Annabeth and Cody were doing, and we didn't know who else to trust.

The wind from the thermos stirred up a nice sea spray that made a rainbow in the sunlight— perfect for an Iris-message— but our connection was still poor. When Luke threw a gold drachma into the mist and prayed for the rainbow goddess to show us Chiron, his face appeared all right, but there was some kind of weird strobe light flashing in the background and rock music blaring, like he was at a dance club. Impossible, of course. I mean, it's Chiron. He literally has four left feet.

We told him about sneaking away from camp, and the Traitors and the Princess Andromeda and the golden box for Kronos' 'remains', but between the noise on his end and the rushing wind and water on our end, I'm not sure how much he managed to hear.

"Allie," Chiron shouted, "you have to watch out for—"

His voice was drowned out by loud shouting behind him— a bunch of voices whooping it up like Comanche warriors.

"What?" I called back.

"Curse my relatives!" Chiron ducked as a plate flew over his head and shattered somewhere out of sight. "Luke, you shouldn't have let Allie leave camp! But if you do get the Fleece—"

"Yeah, baby!" somebody behind Chiron yelled. "Woo-hoooooo!"

The music got cranked up, subwoofers so loud it made our boat vibrate.

"—Miami," Chiron was yelling. "I'll try to keep watch—"

Our misty screen smashed apart like someone on the other side had thrown a bottle at it, and Chiron was gone.

An hour later we spotted land— a long stretch of beach lined with high-rise hotels. The water became crowded with fishing boats and tankers. A coast guard cruiser passed on our starboard side, then turned like it wanted a second look. I guess it isn't every day that they see a yellow lifeboat with no engine going a hundred knots an hour, manned by three kids.

Ah, the lives of mortals. Envious. I'm truly envious. 

"That's Virginia Beach!" Luke exclaimed as we approached the shoreline. "How in Hermes' name did the Princess Andromeda travel so far overnight? That's like—"

"Five hundred and thirty nautical miles," I said without thinking.

He stared at me in shock. "How did you know that?"

"I— I'm not sure."

Luke frowned for a moment. "Angel, what's our position?"

"36 degrees, 44 minutes north, 76 degrees, 2 minutes west," I said immediately. Then I shook my head. "Whoa. How did I know that?"

"Because of your dad," Luke guessed. "Some of my older siblings that have left camp can do something similar, on land. It'll be damn handy in finding the island, at least."

Before I could say anything about my opinion on being used as a living GPS, Tyson tapped my shoulder. "Other boat is coming."

I looked over my shoulder, tensing up. The coast guard vessel was definitely on our tail now. Its lights were flashing and it was gaining speed.

"We can't let them catch us," I said. "They'll ask too many questions."

"Keep going into Chesapeake Bay," Luke ordered. "I know a place where we can lay low for a while."

I didn't ask what he meant, or how he knew the area so well. I risked loosening the thermos cap a little more, and a fresh burst of wind sent us rocketing around the northern tip of Virginia Beach into Chesapeake Bay. The coast guard boat fell farther and farther behind. We didn't slow down until the shores of the bay narrowed on either side, and I realized we'd entered the mouth of a river.

I could feel the change from saltwater to freshwater. It didn't affect me very much, but I could tell I wasn't in the ocean anymore and my body didn't really know what to do about it, so it just stayed (mostly) how it did in saltwater. Although, I suddenly didn't know where we were. It was a good thing Luke was directing me, otherwise, we'd have gotten so lost.

"There," he pointed. "It's just a little past that sandbar."

We veered into a swampy area choked with marsh grass. I beached the lifeboat at the foot of a giant cypress.

Vine-covered trees loomed above us. Insects chirred in the woods. The air was muggy and hot, and steam curled off the river. Basically, I didn't like it.

"Come on," Luke swung himself out of the boat. "It's just down the bank."

"What is?" I asked grumpily. I wished that we'd had a chance to shower before having to run for our lives. That's the worst thing about quests— not being clean, which I just adore.

"Just follow me." He grabbed a duffel bag. I could see a certain look had come into his eyes, and I knew that this had something to do with Thalia. "And we'd better cover the boat. We don't want to draw attention."

After burying the lifeboat with branches, Tyson and I followed Luke along the shore, our feet sinking in red mud. A spider crawled past my shoe and disappeared into the grass.

"Not a good place," Tyson said. He swatted the mosquitoes that were forming a buffet line on his arm.

After another few minutes, Luke stopped and said, "Here."

All I saw was a patch of brambles. Then, Luke moved aside a woven circle of branches, like a door, and I realized I was looking into a camouflaged shelter.

The inside was big enough for three, even with Tyson being the third. The walls were woven from plant material, like a Native American hut, but they looked pretty waterproof. Stacked in the corner was everything you could want for a campout— sleeping bags, blankets, an ice chest, and a kerosene lamp. There were demigod provisions, too— bronze javelin tips, a quiver full of arrows, an extra sword, and a box of ambrosia. The place smelled musty, like it had been vacant for a long time.

"A half-blood hideout." I looked at Luke in awe. "You made this place?"

"Thalia and I," he replied quietly, a pained look in his eyes. "And Annabeth."

I bit my lip. I never knew what to say, when the topic of Thalia or Annabeth came up. In Luke's eyes, Thalia seemed to be this perfect person, who could do anything. And, well, her name said enough about Annabeth.

"So..." I said. "You don't think that she'll look for us here?" There was no need to elaborate on who 'she' was.

He shook his head. "We made a dozen safe houses like this, and she was pretty young. I doubt Annabeth even remembers where they are. Or cares."

He threw himself down on the blankets and started to rifle through his duffel bag. His body language made it pretty clear that he didn't want to talk, but I knew him on a deeper level than that. He needed to vent. 

"Um, Tyson?" I said, glancing at him. "Would you mind scouting around outside? Like, look for a wilderness convenience store or something?"

"Convenience store?"

"Yeah, for snacks. Powdered donuts or something. Just don't go too far."

"Powdered donuts," Tyson said earnestly. "I will look for powdered donuts in the wilderness." He headed outside and started calling, "Here, donuts!"

Once he was gone, I sat down beside Luke, and rested a hand on his knee delicately. "Hey, I'm sorry about, you know, seeing Annabeth."

"It's not your fault." He unsheathed his sword and started to clean the blade with a dirty rag.

"Well if I hadn't followed Hermes' suggestion of boarding the Murder Cruise of Doom," I tried to joke. 

Luke gave a bitter smile. "Yeah, well, neither our fathers are ever gonna get 'Parent of the Millennia Award'," he scoffed. I nodded in silent agreement, surprised when the sky didn't boom angrily. I supposed the gods just weren't listening. Or maybe they knew that it was true.

No, they just weren't listening.

"They let us go too easily," I said, deciding to switch the subject.

Luke nodded in agreement, switching from cleaning to sharpening his blade. "I was thinking the same thing. What we overheard them say about a gamble, and 'they'll take the bait'... I think that they were talking about us."

"The Fleece is the bait? Or Grover?" I pulled on one of my braids in frustration.

He studied the edge of his sword. "I don't know, Allie. Maybe they want the Fleece for themselves. Maybe they're hoping that we'll do the hard work and then they can steal it from us."

"Do you think," I began tentatively, a horrifying thought dawning, "that they could use the Fleece to help speed up..." 

I trailed off, and Luke set down his sword. His expression was dark and grim. "I don't know," he admitted. "Maybe. I just can't believe that Annabeth would poison the tree."

"What did she mean," I asked. "Thalia would've been on her side?"

"She's wrong."

"You don't sound sure," I pointed out bluntly.

Luke glared at me, but I kept my gaze steady. He huffed and looked away first, starting to sharpen his sword again. "Allie, you know who you remind me of most? Thalia. You guys are so alike it's actually scary. I mean, either you would've been best friends or you would've strangled each other."

"If our father's are any indication to go by, I'd say Option B."

"Thalia got angry with her dad sometimes. So do you. Would you turn against Olympus because of that?"

"No, those half-bloods are idiots," I snorted. "Demigods can't exist without gods to conceive us, traumatizing as that thought is. I can't believe they don't realize that. It's so obvious."

Luke blinked, shook his head, and gave a dry laugh. "Jeez, Angel. Your mind works in mysterious ways. I hadn't even thought of that, but yeah, you're right. Anyway, Annabeth was wrong. Thalia would never have supported any of this."

"So what did Annabeth mean about Cyclopses?" I asked. "She said that you of all people—"

"I know what she said. She... she was talking about the real reason Thalia died."

I waited, not sure what to say.

Luke drew in a shaky breath. "You can never trust a Cyclops, Allie. Remember what I told you last year, six years ago, when Grover was leading us to Half-Blood Hill—"

He was interrupted when the door of the hut creaked open. Tyson crawled in.

"Powdered donuts!" he said proudly, holding up a pastry box.

Luke and I stared at him in bewilderment. "Where did you get that?" Luke demanded. "We're in the middle of the wilderness. There's nothing around for—"

"Fifty feet," Tyson cut in. "Monster Donut shop— just over the hill!"

"This is bad," Luke muttered.

We were crouching behind a tree, staring at the donut shop in the middle of the woods. It looked brand new, with brightly lit windows, a parking area, and a little road leading off into the forest, but there was nothing else around, and no cars parked in the lot. We could see one employee reading a magazine behind the cash register. That was it. On the store's marquis, in huge black letters that even I could read, it said:

MONSTER DONUT

A cartoon ogre was taking a bite out of the O in MONSTER. The place smelled good, like fresh-baked chocolate donuts. I'd seen a few of them around New York, but had never actually gone to one.

"Damn, what are the chances?"

Luke shot me one of those fondly exasperated looks that he always gave me when he thought I was being ditzy. "This shouldn't be here," he whispered. "It's wrong."

"What?" I asked doubtfully. "It's a donut shop." 

Though, this was the Greek world. Maybe the secret ingredient was Gorgon poison, or something.

"Shhh!"

"Why are we whispering? Tyson went in and bought a dozen. Nothing happened to him."

"He's a monster."

"Aw, c'mon, Luke. Monster Donut doesn't mean monsters! It's a chain. We've got them in New York."

"A chain," he agreed. "And don't you think it's strange that one appeared immediately after you told Tyson to get donuts? Right here in the middle of the woods?"

I bit my lip. "Possibly," I grudgingly admitted. "But no one said anything to me about chain restaurants being run by monsters! Is that, like, an all-chain-restaurants thing, or...?"

He snorted and shook his head. "Nah, most of them are safe. But some of the chains multiply so fast because all their locations are magically linked to the life force of a monster. Some of my half-siblings figured out how to do it back in the 1950s. They breed—"

He froze, staring over my shoulder. 

I tensed. "What?" I demanded quietly.

"No— sudden— moves," Luke warned, like his life depended on it. "Very slowly, turn around."

Then I heard it: a scraping noise, like something large dragging its belly through the leaves. Which, of course, is exactly what was happening.

I turned and saw a rhino-size thing moving through the shadows of the trees. It was hissing, its front half writhing in all different directions. I couldn't understand what I was seeing at first.

Then I realized the thing had multiple necks— at least seven, each topped with a hissing reptilian head. Its skin was leathery, and under each neck, it wore a plastic bib that read: I'M A MONSTER DONUT KID!

I began to slowly reach for Riptide, but Luke locked eyes with me, sending a silent warning. Not yet.

I understood. A lot of monsters have terrible eyesight. It was possible the Hydra might pass us by. But if I pulled out my sword now, the bronze glow would certainly get its attention.

We waited.

The Hydra was only a few feet away. It seemed to be sniffing the ground and the trees like it was hunting for something. 

My heart pounded. I'd seen a stuffed Hydra-head trophy at camp before, as well as in books, but those did nothing to prepare me for the real thing. Each head was diamond-shaped, like a rattlesnake's, but the mouths were lined with jagged rows of shark-like teeth.

Tyson was trembling. He stepped back and accidentally snapped a twig. Immediately, all seven heads turned toward us and hissed.

"Scatter!" Luke yelled. He dove to the right.

I rolled to the left. One of the Hydra heads spat an arc of green liquid that shot past my shoulder and splashed against an elm. The trunk smoked and began to disintegrate. The whole tree toppled straight toward Tyson, who still hadn't moved, petrified by the monster that was now right in front of him.

"Tyson!" I tackled him with all my might, somehow managing to defy the laws of physics and knock him aside with my whole 115-pound body, just as the Hydra lunged and the tree crashed on top of two of its heads.

The Hydra stumbled backward, yanking its heads free then wailing in outrage at the fallen tree. All seven heads shot acid, and the elm melted into a steaming pool of muck.

"Move!" I told Tyson. I ran to one side and grabbed my swords, hoping to draw the monster's attention.

It worked.

The sight of celestial bronze is hateful to monsters and I don't think they like steel much better. As soon as my glowing blades were in my hands, the Hydra whipped toward me with all its heads, hissing and baring its teeth.

The good news: Tyson was momentarily out of danger. The bad news: I was about to be melted into a puddle of goo. And my braids were a complete wreck. Goddamnit, I hate my life. What'd I ever do to the Fates?

One of the heads snapped at me experimentally. Forgetting my lessons on Hydras, I automatically swung my sword. I tried to pull my arm back, or at least lessen the blow, but I already had too much momentum.

"No!" Luke cried.

Too late. I sliced the Hydra's head clean off. It rolled away into the grass, leaving a flailing stump, which immediately stopped bleeding and began to swell like a balloon.

In a matter of seconds the wounded neck split into two necks, each of which grew a full-size head. Now I was looking at an eight-headed Hydra.

"Shit!" I snapped, jumping back.

"Angel, you okay?" Luke called.

"Fine! How the hell do we kill this thing? I can't remember!"

"Fire!" Luke answered. "We have to have fire!"

As soon as he said that, I remembered the story. The Hydra's heads would only stop multiplying if we burned the stumps before they regrew. That's what Heracles had done, anyway.

But we had no fire, and I was a water half-blood. I avoided fires as much as I could, as a matter of principle. I could totally see myself being extra vulnerable to being burned alive. It'd be just my luck.

I went with my instincts and began to back up toward the river. The Hydra followed.

Luke moved in on my left and tried to distract one of the heads, parrying its teeth with his sword, but another head swung sideways like a club and knocked him, swearing, into the muck.

"No hitting my friends!" Tyson charged in, putting himself between the Hydra and Luke's prone body.

As Luke scrambled to his feet, Tyson started smashing at the monster heads with his fists so fast it reminded me of the whack-a-mole game at the arcade. But not even Tyson could fend off the Hydra forever.

We kept inching backward, dodging acid splashes and deflecting snapping heads without cutting them off, but I knew that we were only postponing our deaths. Eventually, we would make a mistake and the thing would kill us. And Grover and Clarisse would die, before Camp too, fell under an onslaught of monsters.

Then I heard a strange sound— a chug-chug-chug that at first I thought was my heartbeat. It was so powerful that it made the riverbank shake.

"What's that noise?" Luke shouted, keeping his eyes fixed on the Hydra.

"Steam engine," I replied and assumed it was my wacky powers that were allowing me that knowledge.

Then from the river behind us, a familiar female voice shouted: "There! Prepare the thirty-two-pounder!"

I didn't dare look away from the Hydra, but if that was who I thought it was behind us, I figured we now had a 60% to 40% chance of survival, depending on how pissed she was.

A gravelly male voice said, "They're too close, m'lady!"

"Damn it!" Clarisse snapped. "Full steam ahead!"

60% then. 

"Aye, m'lady."

"Fire at will, Captain!"

Luke understood what was happening a split second before I did.

"Hit the dirt!" he warned, and tackled me to the ground, covering my body with his, just as an earth-shattering BOOM echoed from the river. There was a flash of light, a column of smoke, and the Hydra exploded right in front of us, showering us with nasty green slime that vaporized as soon as it hit, the way monster guts tended to do.

"Gross!" I screamed. I almost wished it was still alive, just to pay it back for my hair. Do you have any clue how hard it is to get monster guts out of curls?

"Steamship!" yelled Tyson.

I let Luke help me up, coughing from the cloud of gunpowder smoke that was rolling across the banks.

Chugging toward us down the river was the strangest ship I'd ever seen. It rode low in the water like a submarine, its deck plated with iron. In the middle was a trapezoid-shaped casemate with slats on each side for cannons. A flag waved from the top— a wild boar and spear on a bloodred field. Lining the deck were zombies in gray uniforms— dead soldiers with shimmering faces that only partially covered their skulls, like the ghouls I'd seen in the Underworld guarding Hades' palace.

The ship was an ironclad. A Civil War battle cruiser. I could just make out the name along the prow in moss-covered letters: CSS Birmingham.

And standing next to the smoking cannon that had almost killed us, wearing full Greek battle armor, was Clarisse.

"Damn it Castellan!" She snapped, glaring at Luke, even though I was fairly sure she knew that it was more my fault than his. They didn't get along. "Come aboard, you godsdamned morons."

*    *    *

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[leelee10898]

Fate

For this little drabble we are taking it back to the beginning. It is a what if they didn't find Tariq and Riley left. I used the prompt 'thats the way the story goes' for @choicesflashfics .

If you'd like to be added to tags, let me know.

Book: TRR; Liam x Riley

Warnings: none. Sad fluff

Word count: 874

Liam stood in the back of the crowded ballroom, a scotch in his hand as he watched the attendees of this year's UN Gala. Of course, it had to be held in New York City, the place he loved and hated equally the same. Hated may be too strong a word for the city that never sleeps, suffering may be a better fit and Liam was suffering. It had been a year since the social season and his entire world came crashing down around him. The scandal, the engagement to Madeline, her name being drug through the mud, and she handled it all with her head held high. But the one thing that stood in his way of true happiness was Tariq, who eventually was found, six months after he needed to be found. He gave his statement, clearing her name but it was too late, Riley was gone. 

He watched as a couple stole a quiet moment off to the side of the room and he felt the chains on his heart tighten. It was time to go. Quickly crossing the room, he set his empty glass on the table and stepped out into the night air. "Would you like me to call the car around, your majesty?" Fredrick, one of the royal guards asked. 

"No. I think a nice walk is needed. Thank you, Fredrick." 

Fredrick nodded and fell a few paces back as Liam maneuvered the bustling streets. He thought about the last time he was in the City. Riley, Drake, and Maxwell had flown to Los Angeles to find Tariq, but only when they arrived they found the apartment he had been staying in, just no sign of Tariq, he was long gone, and no forwarding address. The decision for Riley to leave was her own, even though they both knew she didn't want to deep down. Liam tried to beg her to stay. They would keep looking, and even if he was never found they could find a way to make it work. Riley knew the toll the press and surrounding countries would take on Liam, she read tabloids, the press would constantly question everything, Riley would be cheating on Liam at every turn according to them and then the country would look unstable, ultimately with a tear-filled goodbye, she left, changing her number and address. 

Liam knew he could never marry Madeline, he loved Riley and that was more than enough to end the engagement for him. He knew that Riley loved him and more than anything he wanted to believe that fate would bring them back together just as it had before. A few drops of water splashed across his face as he kept his pace. 

Liam walked a few more blocks, the rain began to fall heavier,  he quickly ducked into a pasty shop in hopes the rain would soon subside. 

"Can I help you with anything?" The woman behind the counter questioned.

Liam approached the counter as his eyes swept the glass "Cronuts," a nostalgic smile spread across his face. "Please." 

Liam thought back to the night Riley took them all on a late-night cronut run. She raved about this delectable confection that hailed from the USA and was both a croissant and a donut combined. He thought it too good to be true, that maybe Riley was wrong about something but that first bite only proved that the woman just like the pastry was more than what meets the eye. 

"You look about a million miles away." The sales clerk's voice pulled him from his thoughts. "Must be a hell of a thought.  " She smiled.  

"It was." Liam smiled again,  "Boy meets girl, girl travels halfway around the world to try and win the hand of said boy. Boy and girl fall madly in love and then disaster tears them apart. Or that's the way the story goes."

"That sounds like quite the fairy tale. Here, hun, it's on the house." The woman offered him a smile as she slid the bag across the glass. Liam thanked her and dropped a large bill into the tip jar. 

Liam grabbed the bag about to make his way to a table to wait out the rain when the door jingled as it opened.  "the usual Rose," the woman's voice came from behind and he stopped dead in his tracks. That voice, the same one that plagued his thoughts, his dreams. The one who whispered his name so tenderly, the voice that could bring him to his knees in an instant.  There was no way it was her, in a city so big what were the odds? 

Slowly he turned, his palms sweaty, every nerve ending buzzing with pent-up hope and want."Riley." He whispered. She stood there completely still, unshed tears threatening to spill over. He shook himself out of his daze, willing his feet to move as he crossed the space between them. 

"Li- Liam? Is it really you? Are you really here?" She reached out for him only to hesitate unsure if she should. Liam took notice of her hesitation, reaching out for her hand.  "It's me Riley, I'm here fate has brought us back together and this time I'm never letting you go." 

@kingliam2019 @ao719 @emichelle @annabellewynter @twinkleallnight  @tessa-liam @riseandshinelittleblossom @blackcatkita @katedrakeohd @tinkie1973 @ownworldresident @cordoniaqueensworld @lovingchoices14 @indiana-jr @txemrn

[little-dreamz]

ok so due to recent events (my friend asking for these posts <3) i am gonna be making some mha regression headcanon posts! and we are gonna start out with...

Denki Kaminari!!!

⚡︎ Denki is an age regressor but he does sometimes babysit the other littles if he's up for it!

⚡︎ He regresses from ages 6-8 usually but occasionally it can be 5-9

⚡︎ He isn't ashamed of his regression at all so he talks about it openly. He also slips very easily so he often regresses openly, especially around friends

⚡︎ He is a very energetic boy! This is a mix of ADHD + his personality (and also i like to imagine having electricity course through you can make you pretty energetic), but he loves to run around with people and play things like tag, catch, duck duck goose, and anything that involves moving

⚡︎ Speaking of other people, he loves playdates with the other littles and has them quite often. He loves hanging out with everybody but one of his best little buddies is Uraraka (i will not stand for uraraka slander on this page XP)

⚡︎ Something else i hold near and dear to my heart is the relationship between little Todoroki and little Denki. Without spoiling too much of the Todoroki post im gonna make, Todo regresses very young, like 0-4, and due to this Kami is very curious and is constantly talking about Todo the same way a child talks about a baby

-> an example: *little Kami sees little Todoroki* "gasp! Look is a baby!!!! Hi baby!!!! Can I hug him? Hi baby!! Can I play with him please??"

⚡︎ Kami also likes playing a game where he trys to guess what Todoroki wants (todo goes non-verbal when regressed) and Todoroki likes to see Denki run around grab random things so its a win-win!

⚡︎ Denki being regressed openly so often actually causes a lot of the other littles to regress with him, causing a lot of "daycare situations" (i believe that age[d]re and pet[d]re is actually very common within the hero world due to lots of childhood trauma and/or trauma/stress from hero work so most heros are regressors and/or caregivers)

⚡︎ I imagine Denki rarely vent regresses and when he sees somebody else vent regressing or just being a sad little in general he immediately attempts to cheer them up and make them laugh

⚡︎ This is from somebody elses headcanon list (i dont rmb who im sorry!!) but Bakugou calling Denki pichu instead of pikachu when he's small plagues my mind /pos

⚡︎ Kaminari likes to go out during lightning storms (something he did as a child) and it's perfect because Shinsou (his caregiver) actually really enjoys rain and storms, although he does have to stop Denki from trying to use his quirk in these storms for obvious reasons. Also, Kaminari definitely wears the stereotypical yellow raincoat and matching rainboots.

⚡︎ Ok i hate to say it, but Denki is a leash kid. There's no other way to make sure he doesnt get distracted and run away because he's so curious and easily excitable. BUT he doesnt have the normal child harness thing, he has this one:

⚡︎ Shinsou, while obviously having no issues with the bakusquad hanging out with little Kaminari, is always hesitant to let them all babysit together because usually when he comes back Kami is wearing a change of clothes (that are too big for him), has a few new band-aids, is playing video games way past his bedtime, and is going through an extreme sugar rush

⚡︎ While they may not be the best babysitters together, the bakusquad is good at babysitting Denki one-on-one.

⚡︎ Mina likes to take Denki to different clothing shops and resturants (even if it does completely drain her wallet). She also likes to have fashion shows and makeovers with Denki while listening to all his very super extremely important problems (like how he was only allowed to have one donut instead of two, or how he spilled juice all over his favorite shirt, etc etc)

⚡︎ Bakugou, actually being very responsible, is usually the 'tough love' kinda guy. He makes Kaminari meals and makes sure he eats all of it (including the vegetables), but lets him watch movies while he eats and gives him desert afterwards. He makes Denki take showers/baths, but gives him bath toys and shower crayons and cute towels. He forces Denki into bed at bedtime, but leaves the night light on and sits with him (possibly reading stories) until Denki falls asleep.

⚡︎ Kirishima and Sero are both older brother types, but Kiri is the older brother who takes Kami out to the park and plays pretend with him and does the exaggerated responses and basically just babies Kami, where as Sero is the one who plays video games with Kami and shows him cool comic books and sometimes sneaks him sweets and is over all more lenient and chill

...and that's all i can think of right now! i hope this didn't end up too long (_ _;)

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

Watched It Begin Again (From The Vault)

Summary: After a breakup that nearly threatened to destroy her view of love, Reader finds some type of comforting the charming man she's set up with at the coffee shop. And maybe, just maybe, on a Wednesday, sitting in a café, she's ready to watch it begin again.

Pairing/Genre: Spencer Reid x Female Reader / Angst & Comfort with a hopeful ending

Word Count: 3236

Note: I'm not sure if anyone remembers, but I've been doing this sort-of-series where I put the finishing touches on pieces that were abandoned or forgotten. I got the idea to call it "From the Vault" by @sleepyspencer!! I really hope you enjoy this piece, which is based off Begin Again. It's probably one of most on the nose fics that captures the plot of the song.

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Watched It Begin Again

The apartment has never seemed quieter since he left. It’s the little things that you don’t notice are gone until they are. You’re not sure if it’s being alone that you hate, or if you actually miss him. You hardly recognize yourself when you look in the mirror. Even though your eyes are your eyes and your hair is your hair, when you catch your reflection it’s nothing more than peering at a stranger. You’re a stranger in your own home and a foreigner in your own skin.

But when you woke up today he wasn’t the first thing that you thought of. It took awhile to get here, to stop thinking of how his hands felt on your waist when you woke up with your legs twisted up with his. No matter how much you might miss the warming feel his hands gave you, even that paled in comparison to how cold his words could make you feel. You should have known that a man as smart as him would be laced with words that shoot to kill.

It’s hard to piece yourself back together after the only person who you gave the keys to your heart ripped it to shreds. You tell yourself, staring at the person in the mirror that you don't recognize, that you can do this. After months of ducking from mirrors or windows that are too clear, you’re ready to step into the daylight and let go of the chains that hold you back.

It’s a coffee date. At least you’ll get coffee and a donut out of it. Your friend, the mastermind behind this whole blind date, rattled on why it was important for the date to be a coffee date. She also said to wear your favorite shoes, because favorite shoes always make you feel confident.

He hated when you wore heels. As time went on, he hated a lot of things that you did. And then a lot of things, somewhere along the line, morphed into everything. You wanted to go out with friends too often, you used the wrong detergent for his clothes, you left the nightlight on overnight. It seemed little at first, but then it was too much.

You decided to wear the heels, even though they pinch your toes as you walk down the cobblestone block to the coffee shop. It’s almost November so the autumn chill makes your skin prickle with goosebumps. Maybe you’re trying too hard by wearing heels that pinch your toes and a dress when it’s nearly 50F. But maybe you’re ready to try hard and watch it begin again.

The cafe is quiet, which isn’t unusual for a Wednesday. The regulars, college kids and retirees sit and talk with their small groups. The walls are lined with bookshelves filled with books. The furniture doesn’t match and the lamps look like they were thrifted from places and people with just as many stories as the books. You can’t help but wonder why she never found this place yet. It looks quaint enough to where you can find comfort in the brown armchairs, but not so pretentious that you’ll be laughed at for ordering a Maple Latte.

Your friend told you that he’d be waiting for you to get here. Even though you wanted to believe it, you still expected him to be late. Something always suddenly came up when you were with your ex. He tricked you into thinking it was work that had him staying out late. And then, he’d come home smelling like cheap perfume and dirty secrets, thinking you nothing but a beautiful fool. You’re always early and he was always late. They spent months orbiting around each other. Circling and circling until they realized that what they were circling was nothing but a drain.

The barista at the front of the counter looks up from the register, nodding to the man who’s next. His voice almost drowns out the soft song that plays. You haven't heard it in a while. He hated that song and every song it seems. You hate that he still lingers in your mind, spoiling the things she loves and the things that they shared.

The man before her in line steps aside, waiting for his order. He smiles widely at her; he has one of those faces that should always be smiling. It’s wide and toothy and makes her forget her entire order, until the barista, now rightfully annoyed, catches her attention.

“Your order,” she says, sounding impatient as she passes the man’s cup to her co-worker.

“Oh, uh sorry,” you tell the woman at the counter, “I’ll take a medium Iced Maple Latte,”

“You can wait over there,” the barista says, handing you the change over the counter and gesturing to where the man stands.

You to where the man stands. His hands are in his pockets and he looks contemplatively at the floor. He checks his watch and looks around the cafe like he’s waiting for someone. You wonder if he’s also another unfortunate soul waiting for what could be a horrible blind date. Your friend wouldn’t even tell you the name of your date. Something along the lines of her wanting it to be a surprise because good people like you deserve surprises.

“Order for Spencer,” the barista behind the counter calls and the once nameless man steps forward. He thanks the barista, slipping a couple singles into the tip jar as he reaches to grab the large hot coffee he ordered. Spencer walks away, slipping past you, with his large coffee in hand.

“Y/N” the barista calls, passing you your Maple Latte across the counter. You thank the barista and turn around, ready to stake out a prime spot in the cafe while you wait for your date. But before you get the chance to do so, you’re falling straight into the arms of a stranger.

“Oh shit!” you yell, as you realize that your Maple Latte is now spilled all over the floor, “oh god, I’m so sorry,” you apologize, rushing over to the convenience counter for paper napkins to clean up the mess.

“No, God. It’s my fault,” the man says. He’s the man from before, the one that slipped by you with the large coffee and the face that should always be smiling. Spencer, you remember, “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean it, it’s just, uh. Wait, I promise that I’m not a creep, I just heard your name and, uh, Penelope sent me here. What I mean to say is that I’m your date?” he rambles, crouching down to help you mop up the floor.

“You work with Penny?” you ask, surprised that someone who looks like the poster child of academia works at the FBI. Then again, Penelope Garcia is probably who you least expect to be working at the FBI.

“Yeah,” Spencer says, “uh, she said that your name is Y/N. That’s why I came over here, because I wanted to pay for your drink, but then I realized you already paid for your drink. And that’s about when I crashed into you. Sorry,” Spencer says, apologizing again.

You huff in both frustration and amusement. In just the thirty seconds you’ve known him, Spencer is already so different in the best way possible. He has kind eyes that match his kind eyes and hands covering your hands tells you he’ll clean up the mess with a charmingly dorky smile.

“Hi, Spencer. Y/N, but I think you know that already,” you say, still crouched on the ground, “thanks for helping me clean up this mess,” you tell him, noticing that he drops your hand like it burns him.

“Let me buy you another coffee?” Spencer requests, reaching out to join hands again to help you up, “it’s the least I can do, considering I nearly knocked you over,”

“You don’t have to, Spencer. It’s fine, honestly it’s more of my fault—” you start, ready to take the blame because taking the blame had seemed so natural before.

“I insist, Y/N,” Spencer says firmly, yet kindly, “why don’t you get a table. It was a Maple Latte, right?” Spencer asks, confirming your drink.

“Yes, thanks,” you say, turning around when you feel eyes threaten to well at his kindness and your heart flutters at his insistence. You pick a table, close to the window and bookshelves that line the walls. Spencer returns, coming back with your Maple Latte and two large chocolate muffins. He grabs his coffee from the table he abandoned when he realized the woman he had a date with was right behind him in line.

“Penelope didn’t say much about you,” Spencer says, passing over the coffee and the muffin, “but she did say you love chocolate and coffee, so that’s one thing we can agree on,” he jokes, taking a large bite out of his muffin.

“She didn’t even tell me your name. I like surprises, and I think after the year I had she wanted me to have something to cheer me up,” you say, picking at your muffin as you peer over at Spencer. He bites his lips thoughtfully, like he’s trying to make sense of what she said, “You didn’t have to get this for me,”

Spencer brushes off your worry with a smile. It’s the kind of smile that you can get used to looking at.

“Garcia said that you work in a library?” Spencer asks, “that must be really fascinating,”

You chuckle, thinking to yourself that Penelope Garcia really must have plucked this man from your very personal dreams.

“Really? I think fascinating would better describe working for the FBI, not a library. I mean, it’s a lot of shelving books and helping kids find books to read. It’s fulfilling and fun, but fascinating?” you say, sipping your Maple Latte.

Spencer taps his fingers against the table, thinking over what you said.

“It sounds peaceful,” he says, “I know that Penelope hasn’t said much about me, but I’ve spent a lot of time in the library. It’s like a second home to me. And, uh Garcia’s talked a lot about you. She thinks you’re pretty amazing and from what she says, I think I have to agree,” Spencer tells you, glancing down at his half empty coffee cup and muffin.

“Penelope likes to sing my praises,” you say, “She was in Elizabethan History class in college and she took me under her wing. She’s the best,”

“You’ve known her a while then,” Spencer says, “Don’t tell her I told you this, but she scared me when I first joined the team,” Spencer confesses.

“Penelope Grace Garcia scared you?” you say in disbelief, “she’s like sunshine and everything kind in the world personified,” you exclaim, using an exasperated tone that you’re surprised to hear come from your mouth. It’s not like you to be this you in front of a stranger. But there’s something special about the man that sits in front of you. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but you’re determined to figure it out.

“Y/N, come on, that was 5 years ago. I couldn’t even carry a gun so I looked like a TA and if my memory serves me correctly Garcia was still wearing the black wig and the dark eye liner,” Spencer says, smiling widely as he talks. It’s different seeing someone across from her be so happy-go-lucky. He smiles a lot.

“Even with the dark eyeliner she couldn't hurt a fly,” you counter, catching his contagious smiles. Spencer smiles with his eyes. They crinkle in creases around his eyes peeking through his long eyelashes. You’re jealous of his eyelashes and his wavy hair that looks so soft you want to reach out and push the strands behind his ears.

“That’s true,” Spencer says, taking a sip of his coffee, “Penelope told me that you’re the best person to go for a book recommendation. Now, I don’t like to brag, but I’ve read a lot of books and I’m always looking for a recommendation,” Spencer asks with an earnest look on his face.

“You want my recommendation?” Y/N asks, trying to contain her stunned reaction at him asking for her opinion. Comparing isn’t good and Spencer doesn’t deserve to be measured up against her past, but it’s hard not to when he’s so different.

“Of course, you’re a professional,” Spencer says, tapping his fingers on the table, “I’ll tell you if I’ve read it already,”

“What kind of books do you like?”

“Oh, well, I tend to read a lot of non-fiction, but as for literary fiction I do like Russian Literature, Speculative Fiction, Science Fiction, and I do have a soft spot for Jane Austen,”

“Jane Austen?” you say, a smiling tugging at your lips as Spencer’s tapping fingers edge closer and closer to your steady hand. You wonder to herself if he’s looking for permission to hold your hand. It’s been so long you’ve forgotten how these things work. You’ve forgotten what it’s like to sit across from a boy who’s trying to hold your hand, “I love Jane Austen,”

“Penelope mentioned it,” Spencer says, “She’s a lot more witty and sharp than people give her credit for. Her work, I suppose, gets overlooked by the romantic aspects of her stories. But I would argue that they aren’t simple romances, but commentary historical social classes,”

“You really do read Jane Austen then,” you say, stealing a quick glance down at their hands. Spencer’s hand hovers only two inches from hers, not wanting to bridge the gap. Maybe he’s just as nervous as you are. With his eyes and his laugh, he should be the most confident person in the world, “But I do have a book recommendation for you, it’s not a romance though,”

“Let’s hear it,”

“Rebecca, by Daphne Du Maurier,” she says, “It’s rather sad, but from what you said about Austen’s work, I think you’ll like it,”

“I haven’t read that one, believe it or not,” Spencer tells you, moving his hand an inch closer. Maybe your mind is playing tricks on yourself, but you think you can feel his body heat radiating from his skin and onto your wrist. You glance down, forcing your mind to focus on talking about Rebecca and not the way his hands look like they are straight from a painting, “What is it about?”

“It’s about this woman who married this man and he— he just tolerates her. All she wants is to be loved and appreciated, but he never seems to want to give her that. The ending is just so tragic and to be honest, it’s a lot scarier than horror novels. Because that kind of scary is very real,” you say, hoping you’re not giving away too much.

Spencer’s good at reading people, like Penelope, because the next thing she feels is his warm hand in your freezing one. Somehow, someway he recognizes your pain, your hurt, your baggage. It fits into his palm perfectly. Spencer smiles softly, squeezing as he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. His calloused fingertips graze over your skin, giving you new life and showing you that touches aren’t supposed to hurt.

“It is,” Spencer whispers, “It hurts the most when it comes from the one person you crave love from. All you want is them to notice you, to love you, to hold you,” he adds, looking down at his coffee and pastry, “I’m sorry you know that kind of pain, Y/N,”

“I’m sorry you know it too, Spencer. I know we don’t know each other much, but you’re a kind man. You’ve got a good heart and you don’t deserve that either,” you whisper. Their hushed tones and shy eyes meet trepidatiously.

“I try,” Spencer says, whispering so lowly you’re not even sure he said it. There’s something boyish and innocent about his smile. You hate that there’s a hesitancy to it. You hate that someone darkened his light. You hate that someone tried to squash the goodness out of him. Even though you’ve only known him for moments, you can tell that Spencer Reid, unequivocally, is a good man.

Shy eyes, bared souls and anxious hands meet across the table. It’s like they are in slow motion. And you, in retrospect, are aware of how positively cliché that sounds. But it’s true. Sitting there on a Wednesday in a café, you’re watching it begin again.

He walks you to your car. You hate comparing everything Spencer does right to everything he did wrong. But you suppose that old habits die hard. You nearly bring him up, casually mentioning his cruelty in some sort of off hand remark, testing the waters cautiously for signs for Spencer ready to abandon ship.

It’s almost like Spencer’s talking underwater as they walk side by side to her car. He’s talking enthusiastically about a movie that he and his mother would watch every Christmas. You like the way he talks about his mother, it’s kind and respectful and full of love. There’s something sweet about the way Spencer smiles when he talks about the people he loves. His eyes crinkle when he smiles and it threatens to take over his entire face. You weren't aware that men could be beautiful, but there’s not a single word that you’d use to describe him, but beautiful.

“Sorry,” Spencer says, all of the sudden stopping himself from recounting his magical Christmases with his mom, “I tend to do that. I know it annoys people,” he confesses, wearing his apology like a well-worn coat.

Slightly bewildered, you look at Spencer with confusion, “What do you mean?” you ask, “I was listening, Spence. The movies you watch at Christmas with your mom. She sounds like a very lovely woman to have raised such an amazing person,” you tell him, shifting your weight from side to side in embarrassment. The familiar aching sensation builds in your chest and threatens to expose just how much you like him, even if it’s hardly been an hour since you met.

“Oh,” Spencer says, apparently also bemused, but for very different reasons, “You know, that’s not the response I get when I ramble. Most people would have told me to shut up awhile ago,”

“I like hearing you talk,” you tell him, harnessing an unfamiliar confidence that you didn’t know you had, “You’re interesting, Spencer,”

“Interesting,” Spencer repeats back at you, his cheeks turning red as he licks his lips. You try not to get distracted by his little nervous fidgets, but there’s something endearing about him that you can’t help but like him a little bit more.

He sways on his feet, a smirk forming on his already gorgeous face. You’re not used to this. You’re not used to love coming this easily. Maybe you’re waiting for the crash. Maybe you’re anticipating the burn. Maybe you’re waiting for the rain to come and for Prince Charming to melt away with his nervous fidgets and dorky smile.

But, as Spencer reaches down and grabs your hands in his hands, maybe it will never come. Maybe instead of a red, burning, hurting, regretting kind of love, you’ll get one that’s kind and honest and earnest and golden. Maybe, with Spencer by your side, you’ll watch it begin again.

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[tarosin]

the great adventures of y/n tommy and jack

requested: yes/no

pairing: platonic jack/tommy/reader

summary: jack and tommy convince y/n to leave the house

content warning: cursing

an: wrote way more than i intended to

from the moment you woke up your day was already chaotic, you checked your phone to see several missed calls and texts from tommy. still half asleep you decided to finally answer the call

“the fuck did you wake me up for?”

“I'm outside your house please let me in. Some old man keeps telling me to get into his car, gotta go be quick!”

“TOMMY DON'T YOU DARE GET INTO HIS CAR!”

as soon as you opened to door you were met by your two friends wheezing

“you should have seen your face y/n you looked so worried!”

“you little shits don’t do that again,” you said, scolding the two boys who were now crying with laughter.

the car ride was just as chaotic.

you were screaming at all the cars that were ‘going too slow’ and yelling at jack how to drive, despite the fact you don’t know how to drive.

tommy kept putting his hand close to the steering wheel in an attempt to honk the horn.

“CARPOOL KARAOKE- AAAAAA..OH THE FEDS!”

“FUCK THE POLICE!”

“tommy, y/n, we are going to get arrested.”

the journey was then silent for a few minutes until your new boyfriend could be heard from your phone.

“here we go lads!”

it was a miracle you all survived the car journey, especially since tommy found it hilarious to put his phone in front of jacks face as he was driving.

“oh shit..were at tesco’s?”

you must have zoned out during the car ride because the sound of tommy, finally being allowed to honk the horn, pulled you back to reality.

the three of you debated filming your day together, but ended up deciding against it, wanting to spend time together, especially since you had been busy going to college 5 days a week.

everything was going well until an announcement from customer service echoed,

“good evening ladies and gentlemen, we have a teenager here named y/n l/n looking for their father and older brother, if you are them please come and collect them from the customer service desk.”

you couldn’t help but laugh at how embarrassed tommy and jack were as they came to customer service.

“you must be their...parent??”

“no no no no they’re our friend. they must have wandered off and then got lost it’s their first time visiting this tesco.” it was around 1pm when you finally left tesco, but the adventure wasn’t over yet.

the car ride back was another adventure, tommy spent most of the ride talking about how he found donuts for £3, and how jack squashed them by throwing biscuits at them. it was only when you realised you were going in the wrong direction to go home you spoke up.

“you’re going the wrong fucking way, home is in the other direction.”

“i’m not taking you home, we’re going to a lake!”

“YOU’RE KIDNAPPING ME?!”

“no we’re going fishing.”

“oh-”

“this isn’t a lake?”

“it’s a fishing shop!”

as the three of you walked in, tommy instinctively put an arm around you, keeping you close as the shop was rather busy, and you were already questioning exploring the shop on your own.

“there is no customer service here and i'm not running around here trying to find you. if you run off- OH LOOK SUNGLASSES LETS GET MATCHING ONES!”

you raced tommy back to the car, “HA DIBS ON FRONT SEAT!”

“BUT Y/N I WAS THERE FIRST!”

“sucks to be tommyinnit i guess!”

time went by quickly, you were almost there. you spent the entire time bickering with jack about how you could drive better than him and how the road was too bumpy.

the sound of tommy yelling the word pheasant caught you off guard, causing you to flinch.

“could have had it...”

“WHY WOULD YOU KILL IT MANIFOLD?!”

“he’s nicked the spot.”

“rival fisher?”

you suggested screaming till he left, tommy loved that idea however jack wasn’t too sure it was a good idea.

“let’s run him into the lake with your car!“

“let’s do it!”

you covered your face with your hands hiding the fact you were crying with laughter, they would never tell you this but they loved and missed seeing you this happy. they hadn’t seen you in a while due to the fact you were busy with college, and the times they did see you it was clear you hadn’t been sleeping much and that you were incredibly stressed.

you and tommy went around hunting for sticks to throw into the lake. after a while you chose to sit on the grass watching the pair fish. you were just happy to be out spending time with your best friends, then you heard a train pass and were determined to find it. as you walked away, you heard tommy laugh at jack who was complaining about how he stole his wrap, and was trying to feed ducks sweet corn.

“where did y/n go?”

“i’ll go find them.”

tommy ended up asking strangers if they had noticed you pass by, luckily someone pointed out that you went straight on and was mumbling something about a train.

“can i get a ticket to go on the train please?”

tommy couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“make it two tickets. I also want to go on the train.”

as soon as you both paid and were handed the tickets you grabbed tommys hand, draging him away before he could ask questions about you wandering off.

jack sat fishing on his own, arguing with ducks till his phone rang.

“IM ON A TRAIN WITH TOMMY BE BACK SOON- I THINK I DON'T KNOW WHERE IT GOES, MISSING YOU ALREADY!”

before he even got the chance to speak you hung up laughing.

“what the hell where are we?”

“it’s train time tommy!”

after a few minutes you realised this was going to be a long journey.

“this fucking train is going 1 mille an hour bloody hell.”

you placed you head on your friends shoulder, it had been a long day and you were exhausted.

“oh fuckkkk i have work to do when i get home.”

tommy felt awful for you, noticing you were stressed and starting to get upset, he pulled you in for a hug. the pair of you stayed in the position talking about anything and everything until the train came to a stop.

“let’s go brag about our journey to jack!”

“he’s going to kill us.”

“worth it.”

It was a long day but you were thankful your two closest friends decided to make you leave the house and spend time with them. a few days later you had your exams, then a few weeks later you got your results and couldn’t wait to message the gc.

yn : I PASSED BOYS!!!

tommy: I knew it!!

jack: nice one!

tubbo: does this mean we can go on an adventure?? I couldn't go last time.

yn: yes.

[duckprintspress]

NOW AVAILABLE: THE E-BOOK OF ADD MAGIC TO TASTE and Extra Kickstarter Merchandise!

Did you miss your chance to back our first Kickstarter? Did you back it, but have a friend who wants a copy? Have you just been itching to get some of the merch you didn't get as a backer? Have you only just heard of us thanks to our recent call for applicants, and want to learn more about our first Anthology?

Now you can do all these things!

Duck Prints Press's first anthology, Add Magic to Taste, is now available for sale on our website!

For Add Magic to Taste, 20 authors have come together to produce new, original short stories uniting four of our absolute favorite themes: queer relationships, fluff, magic, and coffee shops! Our diverse writers have created an even more diverse collection of stories guaranteed to sweeten your coffee and warm your tart.

Select extra/leftover merchandise from the Kickstarter is also available, including:

The Add Magic to Taste Mug

This adorable bookmark featuring art by @diminuel

A die-cut sticker of the book title

A die-cut sticker of our adorable Dux wearing a bowtie

Our company logo and Dux mascot as a die-cut sticker

This precious rainbow heart-eyed Dux die-cut sticker (not an AMtT extra, this has only been available to our Patrons up to now!)

The die-cut sticker of our barista Dux, previously only available to Patrons and people who backed our pre-order sale last spring

Our campaign mascot mage Dux as a die-cut sticker OR a magnet

Both the absolute gorgeous enamel pins with art by @aceriee-art - the Bubble Tea and Donut pin and the Croissant and Coffee pin!

And, lastly, we have seconds of our donut fairy key chain, featuring art by @foxyjoy-art. Note that these had printing errors from the vendor (we got a refund and got the actual campaign pins reprinted by a different vendor) and are being sold as-is.

So check it out, and get some of the book that's averaging over 4 stars on Goodreads and Storygraph, and the merch that our Kickstarter backers described as "absolutely beautiful," "gorgeous," "incredible," and "absolute BEST IN CLASS."

VISIT OUR SHOP NOW AND GET YOURS!

[rich-and-bitchy-is-my-type]

Baby It’s Cold Outside

Poppy Weekend Day 1: Past

Tags: Coffee shop AU, first meetings, pre-canon AU, Christmas AU, slightly hurt/comfort, ooc as hell (sorry)

Bee Hughes, begrudging barista working in Hoboken, comes across a very particular customer.

Christmas is really overstepping the limit this year.

Maybe it’d be alright, all the decorations and jingling music and strobing lights choking the avenue and the collection of mechanically ho-ho-hoing Santa figurines her boss felt compelled to line up along the counter the moment December hit. Not Bee’s favorite atmosphere, of tacky goodwill. It’s just that the string lights her coworkers put up are too low for her to clear without stooping just slightly. Every time she serves a doughnut, pours a coffee, goes to the door to flip the sign to CLOSED when she takes her break, she has to do this stupid little bob of her knees to duck underneath them. Every time.

Her coworker and friend, Nadia, saunters neatly under the string lights, bags a donut, hands it to a hipster boy with a smile. He smiles back. Leaves a dollar on the counter when he goes and everything. The doorbell tinkles in this frustratingly festive way, rubbing it in.

Noticing Bee’s scowl, Nadia says to her, "You’re a grinch."

"You’re five foot four."

"You could always fix the string lights if they bother you that much."

"Bee!" her boss hollers from some passageway to hell, probably. "Don’t lay a finger on the string lights!"

"Wasn’t gonna, sir!" she calls back.

Nadia already has fifteen dollars in tips neatly stowed in her apron pocket. Nadia is neat about everything.

Bee has zero dollars.

It’s okay, she tells herself. Her shift has just started. Nadia’s been in the shop for longer, so it makes sense.

She takes out the cookie tin and starts arranging them as neatly as she can. "Can you leave some of the sappy boys to me for a change?"

"You won’t get any tips from them, Bee. You’re never nice to boys."

"I’m nice," she says, and Nadia rolls her eyes. Okay, maybe she isn’t nice. "I could try flirting with them if it means I’ll get money."

Living in New York has always been her dream. Yeah, maybe she watched a lot of chick flicks growing up and had the tiniest obsession with Sex and the City, but who can blame her? Bee Hughes is a free spirit. As much as she loves her home town and the people living there… it’s simply not enough. She needs more. She needs to prove herself that she can make it.

And yeah, as cheesy as it sounds, New York seemed like the perfect city to start her perfect new life.

There’s a small problem, of course. There always is.

She has no money.

So when your childhood friend Nadia invites you to live with her in New Jersey (which, let’s face it, is close enough) and work at a café over winter break, you say yes.

A temporary job in Hoboken will do, at least for now. Until she can save enough money to move to New York, that is.

"Really?" Nadia says, bringing her back to reality. "I don’t think I’ve ever seen you flirt with a boy before. Kinda thought you were incapable."

Now it’s Bee’s turn to roll her eyes.

"Shut up."

She’s out of cookies to arrange. Bee goes to grab a new batch and nearly gets garroted by those damn string lights.

She’s usually somewhat of a fan of winter, at least, with the power it has to keep people indoors and give the grimy streets a fresh coat of white. Snow days spent at home watching the latest 90 day fiancé episodes. Her and her sisters have their own way of doing things at Christmas. Namely: quietly. Which is good. Except her sisters aren’t in New Jersey with her. They’re back at home, in Farmsville, and she’ll have to spend Christmas away from her family for the first time in… well, ever.

She thought that watching tourists slip on ice patches and spending her evenings with Nadia would hold the same entertainment value as spending Christmas at home, but it doesn’t. It makes her wonder if she’s really suited to live in a big city after all.

"I’ll give you whatever tips I get today if you take the flack for trashing the string lights," she propositions Nadia from her tangle of plastic.

Nadia stares at her, amused. "I’d like to see you make more than five dollars on this shift."

Bee’s out of the string lights. She’d like to tear them down and maybe burn them, but she straightens them instead because she is a slave to the corporate machine and she needs money badly.

"Okay," she pulls at the hair tie in her ponytail, tightening it. It’s no use, some loose curls are blocking her view anyways, "alright, six dollars by 7 pm. Will you do the string lights then?"

“Bee, my shift is literally over. Like, now. And you should go back to work.” Nadia is, in fact, hanging up her apron right now.

"You’re no fun," Bee sighs.

Nadia’s back is turned. She walks past the counter, throwing up her hands as she reaches the exit.

"See you at home, Bee. Try not to murder anyone today," she says, opening the door to leave.

"Ha, ha. Very funny."

The bell tinkles as Nadia steps outside. Fucking tinkles.

Trying not to murder anyone proves to be a much more difficult task than Bee originally thought. Bee smiles at a single mom, three frat bros, at least five businessmen, a businesswoman, two different Karens, a gaggle of trendy teenage girls, and none of them think to slip her an extra dollar. Two hours later, the jar remains empty. And the tinkle of the door every single time someone enters the shop is getting more and more annoying by the second.

Resting the crown of her head against the glass in exhaustion, she pulls at the chain of her necklace to unearth the tiny bee pendant. The rough edges of the wings feel grounding against the pad of her thumb. Maybe it’s a little corny to have a pendant with your namesake, but it was a gift from her parents. It reminds her of home.

The bell tinkles again.

The most wonderful time of the year.

Bee takes in the customer that’s approaching her. She’s a young girl, probably around her same age. One of those pretty looking blonde girls that probably attend Ivy League schools. A girl who takes too much care of her hair. A girl in an expensive-looking winter coat and boots that Bee could never afford, not even if she worked double shifts for the rest of the month. A girl that definitely doesn’t live in Hoboken. A girl who’s been out in the wind for a while, judging by the pink tip of her nose and her reddened cheeks. That’s what Bee gets from her eyes. 

Wait, why is she looking at her eyes?

"Welcome," she greets the new customer, trying to focus her eyes on literally anything else but the girl in front of her.

It’s no use. Her eyes are drawn to her once again, and Bee notices that her face looks anxious, as if she’s looking around to see if someone’s followed her. She definitely doesn’t live in the area.

The girl keeps looking behind her back, not acknowledging Bee at all. She fights back the urge to roll her eyes and waits patiently for the customer to address her.

"Black coffee. No sweetener." she finally says, still not looking at Bee. "The name’s Poppy"

O…kay? This isn’t Starbucks and you’re the only customer here, I don’t need to know your name, it’s what Bee wants to say. She doesn’t.

"Sure," Bee nods.

Turning her back on the mystery blonde girl, she focuses on the coffee pot and waits for the familiar beep that indicates that the beverage is ready. Bee shakes out a cardboard cup from the stack, pours the drink, and presses on the lid.

"Poppy?" she calls, fighting back the urge to chuckle. The name does fit her, somehow.

The other girl looks caught in a dream, staring down the counter.

"Poppy," Bee tries again. Her own voice sounds entertained, "your coffee."

She whips around all at once and darts forward to take it, finding the cup with a flutter of her fingers. "Right. Thanks."

"Is there anything else?"

She takes a while to think about it. But then, quietly says: "No," she fishes out a five, "thanks. I’ll go sit over there."

Okay… this girl is definitely strange. She looks nervous, almost out of place. As if she isn’t used to cafés like this one - and judging by her appearance, she’s not used to middle class neighborhoods at all. She looks… expensive. Yeah, that’s definitely the word.

Bee wonders what she must look like. Probably lower middle class.

The girl keeps looking at her phone and then at the door. Bee stares at her, intrigued.

"Waiting for someone?"

She looks startled at the question, and for a few seconds she stays silent. Pensive. As if she’s considering if she should answer the question at all or ignore it entirely.

And just when Bee thinks that she’s not getting an answer, the girl opens her mouth and says: "Yes."

"I see. Well, I hope they don’t keep you waiting. It looks like it will start snowing soon."

She nods, her eyes focusing on the door one more time. Bee wonders if she’s heard her at all.

Bee takes out the antiseptic spray and cloth and soaks the counter with the spray. The girl is ignoring her, her boss hasn’t shown his face in hours and the shop is otherwise empty. It’s fine. This is fine.

Bee bites with a scrub at the ringed surface. She wants to see her fucking face in it.

Fifteen minutes later, the rag is worn out and there’s no trace of whoever this girl was supposed to meet.

Bee eyes her carefully, setting the discarded rag aside. She goes to wash her hands, all the while keeping her gaze fixed on the girl sitting at the table. Her expression is starting to sour, and Bee feels almost sorry for her.

She gets to the front of the counter, ducking under the string lights successfully. For once, it’s not the first thing on her mind.

"I didn’t order this," the girl frowns when Bee places a cookie on a plate in front of her, looking up from her phone.

"I know," Bee replies. She’ll find a way to explain the missing cookie to her boss later. "You just look like you need it right now."

The girl gets defensive almost immediately. "I’m sorry?"

"Oh! No, I mean–" Bee trails off, trying to come up with a good excuse. She’s definitely not used to giving away pity cookies – especially not to girls as pretty as Poppy here. "We’re giving them away for Christmas. It goes with your coffee, see?"

It’s a complete lie, of course, but she still points at the (now cold) coffee resting on the table.

"Oh. Thanks, then," the girl whispers, going back to looking absolutely dejected.

Bee isn’t sure why, but she feels the urge to cheer her up. Maybe it’s stupid, but she can’t help feeling bad for her. Whoever stood this girl up was clearly someone important to her.

She glances down at her and says, "Are you a student?"

She herself hadn’t expected those words to leave her mouth. This is exceedingly weird. She, out of all people, is making small talk with a customer. She never does that.

The girl looks equally confused, but still opens her mouth to reply. "Uh, yeah. I am."

Bee looks at her awkwardly. This entire situation is so strange. Judging her by her appearance, she doesn’t seem like the type that would talk to baristas (or any kind of minimum wage worker) at all.

What’s going on?

"So am I!" Bee smiles, and immediately regrets it. The girl just looks at her, somewhat interested. What. Is. Happening.

Bee shakes her head, trying to focus. What the hell is she doing, talking to a stranger like that? She gazes at the window instead.

"Oh…" Bee murmurs, the words escaping her mouth before she can stop them once again. "It’s snowing already."

The girl lifts her head and looks outside with nothing but heartbreak in her features. It sends a painful pang down Bee’s stomach.

"So it is," she sighs and stands up after giving her phone screen one last glance. "I should get going, then."

"Are you sure?" Bee asks her with concern in her voice. "Uhm, I don’t think walking in the snow right now is a good idea. You could wait here if you need–"

The girl laughs with amusement. It’s the prettiest smile Bee’s ever seen. Shit, she probably looks stupid right now, staring at her like she’s just fallen in love.

"I have a car waiting for me outside."

Of course. Of course a girl that looks like that has a driver. Bee cringes internally. What is it with her today? Why is she acting dumber than usual?

The girl walks past her, a sad smile adorning her delicate features.

"Thanks for the cookie," she tells her with a little tilt of her head as she turns away. And before she goes, she fishes something out of her purse and shoves it carefully in the tip jar without looking at her. She speed-walks out.

Bee stares at her disappearing silhouette. Then she stares at the tip jar, no longer empty. She fishes out the bills: a ten and a fifty. A ten? And–

Poppy just tipped her sixty dollars.

The bills feel very heavy in her hands all of a sudden. What does this mean? What kind of person tips that insane amount of money after just getting one coffee? Bee hates the things her heart is doing right now. It’s stirring, almost fluttering, in this frivolous and completely un-Bee fashion and she can’t seem to quell it.

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

When she gets home, she immediately barges into Nadia’s room. She sinks onto her bed and waves the sixty dollars between Nadia and her laptop.

"Did you mug someone on your way home?" she asks, half-jokingly.

"This random rich girl tipped me all of this."

"What?!" Nadia gasps, reaching for the bills.

"I know! It’s– it’s weird, right?"

"Yeah, definitely. But it’s also kinda nice? I mean, you’re sixty dollars richer now. You’re totally buying groceries this week!"

"Shut up. I’m still trying to wrap my mind around it. We just talked for a bit, and then she suddenly said she had to leave and just… dropped sixty dollars into the tip jar," Bee repeats, still incredulous. "Who does that? Do you think she was flirting with me?

"Maybe. Did you ask her for her number?"

"No…" Bee whimpers. "Pretty stupid of me, huh?"

Nadia rolls her eyes. "So what’s that bring your tip total up to?"

With a sigh, Bee drops her forehead against Nadia’s shoulder. "Sixty dollars."

"Did you try smiling?" she reminds her.

Bee turns her head to the side, squinting up at her. "Of course I did."

"Asking them about their Christmas plans?"

"I forgot. I wasn’t interested."

"Begging on your knees?"

"I did… lightly threaten a Karen," Bee whispers.

That gets Nadia to set her laptop down. "What?"

"I didn’t threaten her. I threatened that I’d cry."

"Oh," Nadia twitches her nose and looks at Bee. "You know, I can’t really picture you crying."

"Well, it didn’t work, so…" Bee groans. "I feel so stupid for not asking for her number."

"Yeah, Bee. That was pretty stupid of you. Who knows, though? Maybe you’ll see her again."

Bee shakes her head. "I don’t think so. She definitely didn’t live in the area, and whoever she was waiting for stood her up, so…" she trails off, suddenly looking at her phone screen.

Her mom’s calling her. For some reason, Bee can tell that it’s not good news.

"Hold on, Nadia, I gotta take this call."

Nadia simply nods and Bee walks to her own room, closing the door behind her.

"Hi, mom? Is everything okay–"

"Bee? Oh, honey…" her mom interrupts her, and Bee can tell that she’s been crying. "I have some bad news."

"What happened?" she goes to sit on the bed, her heart beating like crazy in her chest.

"Your aunt–" her mom sobs a little, and Bee can feel her heart sink into her chest. "She’s died, Bee."

"Oh, mom, I’m so sorry–"

"That’s not all," she continues, "she’s left us a huge inheritance. We’re– we’re debt free."

Her words immediately send a pang into Bee’s stomach. She can feel her head spinning, trying to process all this new information at once. She’ll probably have to go back to Farmsville tomorrow or the day after if she wants to make it in time for the funeral. But her car is at the repair shop and she doesn’t have enough money to rent a new one…

"Bee," her mom says her name again, bringing her back to reality, "you know what this means, right?"

"What…?"

"We finally have enough money to pay for your tuition. You can transfer this next semester to that Ivy League school you kept talking about. What was the name again…?" her mother trails off. Bee doesn’t reply. "Right! Belvoire, was it?"

Bee looks down at her hands and finds she’s been turning her necklace charm round and round between her fingers. She’s still processing everything, her emotions barely giving her any time to think. Her aunt just died. Her family is rich. She can quit her crappy job. She can finally move to New York. She can go back to school. It’s so much and it’s all at once – she feels like she’s going crazy. Nothing that felt certain a few hours ago feels the same now. She doesn’t know what to make of it.

But if there’s one thing she’s sure about is that her life is about to change. Whether it’s for better or for worse remains a mystery.

A few seconds after hanging up the phone, she stays in her place on the bed, unmoving.

"Things are never going to be the same, right?" she whispers to no one in particular.

Deep down, she already knows the answer to that question.

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

Sooo… I always wanted to write a silly little AU where Poppy and Bee meet prior to Bee transferring to Belvoire. It makes me think that maybe, if the circumstances had been any different, they could’ve been friends right from the beginning (yes im delusional)

I know that Poppy leaving any kind of tip is probably ooc as hell but I am deluded enough to tell myself that the power of gay made her do it.

Who is Poppy meeting…? I’ll leave that up to you guys! Even though I’m sure the answer is pretty clear.

The ending probably felt super rushed – and that’s because it *was* rushed 😂 sorry, I was trying to meet the deadline!

Do you think that they’ll recognize each other when they meet again? I think this time it would be easier for Bee to connect the dots and realize the truth about Poppy’s parents. Oh, before i forget! a quick fun fact: Nadia is actually my TFS mc. Crossover incoming…? haha jk… haha unless 😳

Anyways! I hope you enjoyed my super late, kinda christmas-y one shot (despite the fact that it’s literally January)

Happy Poppy weekend, clowns!

[stevesbestgirl]

Pickpocket

Lee Bodecker x f!Reader

3410 words

Warnings: a few curses, brief gun use, mentions of alcohol/being drunk

A/N: Week 3 of my D20 Writing Event, found here! I think this is my favorite one so far and I was super excited to write a little more for Lee! I may have overdone it on the accent, but I limited myself to two pet names, so fair’s fair. 

"Goodness, I'm so sorry, sir!" You gave a half-glance behind you as you hurried past, deftly tucking your hand inside your shoulder bag.

"Watch where you're going!" he called after you.

You listened for one, two, three beats and there were no footsteps in pursuit. Ducking down an alley and around the side of the donut shop, you glanced around the backyard before pulling the wallet from your bag and rifling through. It wasn’t a bad score; fifteen dollars and some change. Pulling the cash out, you tossed the wallet aside, thinking about what you'd have for dinner tonight.

"Now that wasn't very nice of ya," a voice drawled.

Your head snapped to the corner of the building, where a police officer was leaning against the brick. You blood went cold and your heartbeat was suddenly loud in your ears; you didn’t like cops. Even before you’d started picking pockets, they’d always made you nervous.

He stooped the pick up the wallet you'd tossed aside, flipping it open “Mr. Brewer will be awful disappointed when he gets home and realizes his paycheck’s gone missin’.”

Your eyes darted from one end of the yard to the next; if you could get over to Mr. Pelley’s broken-down Chevy, you could hop the fence and disappear. You glanced at the officer; he had close cropped brown hair poking out from under his wide-brimmed hat, a square jaw and a chin with a deep cleft. He was tall and thickly built- that, plus the bit of belly than hung over his belt meant he was probably slow.

Your gaze landed on the shiny Sheriff’s badge that gleamed on his chest. It looked like it had been recently polished. He was still busy examining the wallet, so you pushed off the wall like a runner off a block and bolted for the rusted truck.

“Hey!” You heard him shout after you as you clambered into the bed of the truck, “Hold it!” Ignoring him, you hauled yourself up and onto the roof, ready to fling yourself over the fence when a shot pinged off the chain link just to your right. You froze, heart beating in your throat.

“That’s better, now turn around,” he instructed. Gritting your teeth, you did as he said, turning in a circle to face him, your hands raised. “Attagirl.” He had his pistol still raised, though his finger was no longer on the trigger.

“What do you want?”

He chuckled, “What do I want? I’m the Sheriff, sweetheart. ‘S my job to protect the people of Meade from thieves like you.”

You glared at him, “And what about thieves like you?”

He grinned, “I see you gotta little fight in ya, hm? I like that.”

“Like I give a damn what you like,” you hissed.

“No need to get testy on me now. You got a couple of options here. You can climb down from there, lemme cuff ya and take you to the station for booking, or you can try to make that jump faster than I can get a shot off, though I wouldn’t recommend that one if ‘m bein’ honest.”

“Is there a third option?” you asked sarcastically.

“Sure is; I can return Mr. Brewer’s wallet to him- tell ‘em he musta dropped it. Then there’s no reason to press charges and you’ll be free to come with me to the county fair this weekend.”

Your hands indignantly dropped to your hips, “You can’t be serious, Sheriff.”

“Serious as can be. It’s a shame to see a sweet girl like you stealin’ from folks. Least at the fair, I can keep an eye on ya.”

“Yeah, I’m sure your intentions are real gentlemanly, huh?”

He huffed, “I’m not gonna take advantage of ya, I just wanna show you what it’s like to be on the right side of the law for once.”

“I s’pose you think that’s where you are then? On the right side of the law?”

“I like that quick wit of yours, girl, but if you hate me so much, I got no problem booking ya-”

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

He grinned, “Well, looks like we got ourselves a date. Now how ‘bout you climb down from there and put Mr. Brewer’s money back in his wallet for me.”

Heaving a sigh, you slid over the edge of the truck, landing deftly in a crouch. You reluctantly forked over the cash and crossed your arms as the sheriff put it back where it belonged.

He glanced at you, making you realize how much of a deep blue his eyes were, “Y'ever been to the county fair before?"

"No," you lied. You'd gone, but never for the funnel cake. The fair was a prime spot for picking pockets- hell, sometimes people left their purses lying around for the taking.

"Well, you're gonna love it. We can ride the carousel, 'n watch the horse pulling contest. I'll get ya a funnel cake and win a prize for ya at the shooting gallery." He grinned, "I'm real good at that ring toss game too."

"I don't think it's possible to be good at the ring toss. Those games are all rigged anyways," you sulked.

"Not for the Sheriff they're not," he chortled. "I'll show ya this weekend, don't you worry, darlin'."

You didn't like the way your stomach flipped at the term of endearment; you were only doing this so he wouldn't bust you for stealing. One date, that was the deal.

"Okay," you agreed. "I'll see you this weekend, Sheriff."

"Lee's jus' fine, darlin'. I'll see ya at the fair- you should be able to find me working the parking lot in the morning. But for now, you have yourself a fine night.” He moved toward the alley that would take him back to the street, pausing to add, “And don’t be thinkin’ ‘bout disappearin’ on me. Cause I’ll find ya and then you’ll be in real trouble.”

Your mouth went dry at the threat and you nodded stiffly. Satisfied, he rounded the corner and jogged, likely to catch up to Mr. Brewer so he could return his wallet to him. You crouched, clutching your head in your hands and letting out a deep groan, what had you gotten yourself into now?

*

You caught yourself straightening your skirt as you walked through the entrance, people crowding around you as they flooded into the fair. The Sheriff had said he'd be working the parking lot in the morning, but you hadn't seen him out there.

Another uniformed man was looking bored by the ticket booth; you could probably ask him where to find the Sheriff, but approaching a cop was enough to make your palms sweat. But if you didn't find him, you doubted he'd accept that as an excuse and then you'd end up serving time.

"Er, excuse-" you winced as he glanced at you, his gaze sharp. Swallowing hard, you started again, "Excuse me. I'm looking for Sheriff Bodecker, d'you know where I could find him?"

"What do I look like, his keeper?" He instantly turned away, indicating he was through talking.

Your temper flared, "No, you look like-"

"Y/N! Over here darlin'!" You glanced over your shoulder at the cart where they sold food; the Sheriff was brandishing a plateful of funnel cake.

He was in his uniform, the no-nonsense brown a stark contrast to the bright smile on his face. It was easy to see how he'd gotten so popular; he was handsome and he wore the costume well. Seeing an officer in uniform usually made your stomach twist in anxiety, but the way it leapt at the sight of the sheriff was entirely different.

Allowing your sharp insult to fade from your tongue, you shot the deputy a scathing look before making your way over to Lee. "Thought you were on parking lot duty?” Your tone was flat; you were a little annoyed that you’d had to speak to the deputy. But you quickly reminded yourself that you had to play nice, just for today.

"Cut out a lil early so I could get us somethin' to eat," he beamed. "Thought ya might not wanna wait in that line." He tipped his head and only then did you notice the line that stretched from the cart all the way into the stream of new arrivals.

Your annoyance softened, "That line's gotta be at least three quarters of an hour long, we coulda skipped it."

"Nah, it was shorter when I got in line- wasn't so bad. But ya better have some of this before it gets cold, sweetheart."

"Pretty sweet stuff for breakfast, Sheriff," you teased, pulling off a piece of the still-warm pastry.

He followed your lead, unbothered by the cinnamon and powdered sugar coating his fingers, "Got a little bit of a sweet tooth- probably why I took a fancy to ya." He winked at you.

You laughed aloud, "How many ladies have you wooed with that one, Sheriff Bodecker?"

"If it worked on you, that makes one, darlin'," he smirked, sliding his sugar-dusted thumb between those plump lips of his.

You realized you were staring when those lips spread into a wider smile as he sucked the powder from the pad of his thumb.

"And when ya gonna start calling me Lee, sweets?"

You grinned, grateful for the opportunity to be witty again, "I'll start calling ya Lee when I'm not nervous Sheriff Bodecker's gonna lock me up."

He sobered slightly, "If I was gonna charge ya, I woulda done it by now. You got nothin' to worry about so long as you behave yourself."

You popped another piece of cake in your mouth to delay responding, your voice soft, "Thanks Lee."

He beamed, "Now that's more like it. Whaddaya wanna do first?"

True to his word, you hit all the highlights. The horse-pulling contest wasn't particularly exciting, but the sight of the sheriff on the carousel wasn't one you'd soon forget.

"What do ya say to some games, sweetheart?"

"You gonna show me those ring toss skills I've heard so much about?"

He grinned, "You best-"

The crackle of the radio on his belt interrupted, "We got a 10-51, possible altercation by the ferris wheel."

Lee grimaced, speaking into the radio, "I'm nearby, I’ll check it out." He offered an apologetic look, "You mind waiting here, darlin'? I'll be right back for ya."

"What's a 10-51?"

"Just some drunk idiot causin' a fuss," he huffed.

"I'll come with ya then," you chirped. "I've always meant to ride a ferris wheel anyways."

He appeared to consider arguing, but ultimately chose to nod, leading the way, "Just stay behind me, alright?"

"Sure."

"Ya never been on a ferris wheel before?"

"Nah, was never bothered, I s'pose," you shrugged.

"But now you wanna try it?" He was smirking, "Y'know, the ferris wheel's s'posed to be a romantic spot."

"That's not-"

"C'mon, you wanna say somethin'? Say it t'my face, ya coward!"

A man who looked a little younger than Lee was stumbling back and forth toward the ferris wheel operator, his fists raised until he wobbled backwards, nearly toppling himself over. There was a ring of curious fair-goers around him, but no one made an effort to stop him, clearly enjoying the entertainment.

Lee brushed your arm softly as he broke through the edge of the circle, a clear instruction to stay back. He adjusted his hat, his voice suddenly booming, "What's the problem here?"

"He had his turn-"

"This clown won't let me ride again!" the drunk shouted over the operator.

"Sir, you could ride again if you get back in line-"

"I've already done my waitin', I just wan' one more go round," he protested, making a beeline for the empty cart currently on the ground. Lee's arm shot out, blocking his path and the man nearly clotheslined himself, stumbling into Lee's chest.

"Son, if ya can't behave yourself, you'll get booted from the whole fair. If ya wanna ride again, you gotta wait like everyone else," Lee said firmly, pulling the man up straight by his collar.

"Ah, yer just bitter that the ferris wheel can't hold your fat ass, Sheriff," the man hooted, amused by his own joke.

"Hey!" you protested, pushing through the edge of the ring. "He's just doin' his job!" God, you were defending a cop. Spending the day with Lee had made you soft.

"Don’t worry, darlin', I've got 'em under control," Lee reassured you, though he looked a bit ruffled by the insult.

"'Darlin',' is it? Hey, how much'd he pay you to come out with him today, toots? Musta been a lot- that 'r he threatened to lock ya up if ya said no, huh?" He howled with laughter, unaware of the way Lee's cheeks flushed.

"That's enough god dammit," you hissed, stalking into the middle of the circle. "Yer ruinin' the fair for everyone, now go home and sober up until you feel the shame your mama feels at having raised such a disrespectful little milksop."

His face twisted at the insult, "Don't tell me y'actually like this fat, old bastard-"

The next thing you know, your clenched fist was connecting with his jaw, the impact jarring on your knuckles. His balance already tenuous, the drunk collapsed onto his rear, the small cloud of dust rising from the dirt. He howled with rage, trying to stand and take a swipe, but he could barely stand up.

For the first time, Lee seemed completely dumbstruck. He watched as the man crumpled, his gaze quickly flicking back to you as you glared down at the drunk, exhaling fiercely through your nose. It wasn't until he swiped at your skirt, a coherent insult finally forming on his beer-drenched tongue that Lee seemed to snap out of it.

"That's enough now, son. You're done here," he said firmly, hiking him up by the collar of his shirt.

"Me? That bitch just clocked me!"

"And it's a helluva lot better 'n what ya shoulda got, actin' a fool in public. I should knock ya again for talkin' like that 'bout a lady," Lee gave him a shake. "Now let's go.” Lee sent you a curt nod, "I'll be back for ya in ten."

Your stomach lurched; what did that mean? There was no pet name attached, no charming smile. You'd wanted to stick up for Lee, but maybe you'd only made things worse. You had just decked a man at the county fair- Lee would be within his rights to boot you out too.

You watched him disappear into the crowd, dragging the man alongside him. You glanced at the ferris wheel; you really had wanted to ride it with Lee. Your gut was telling you to run- to disappear into the crowd before you could get in trouble. But you didn't have it in you to go. You'd been having a good time today; better than you'd thought you would.

Realizing your fist was still clenched, you hastily unfurled your fingers, wincing at the ache already building in your knuckles. You didn't regret what you'd done; you only hoped you hadn't made Lee's job more difficult. And if he was gonna arrest you- well, there were worse things to get pinched for.

Resigning yourself to your punishment, you waited, watching the ferris wheel spin. You'd have to try it another time.

"Here ya go, darlin'," Lee's voice came from right behind you, making you jump.

You spun around, guiltily biting your lip, braced for the worst. But he was only brandishing a paper cup with ice cubes in it. "For your hand."

"You're- not bootin' me out?"

He laughed loud enough that several people looked your way, "Why would I boot ya out?"

"I punched somebody!"

He grinned, "That was official police business- you were well within your rights." He shook the cup, "Now get this ice on those knuckles before they swell. We riding this wheel or not?"

You glanced at the ferris wheel again, chewing your lip as you accepted the cup of ice. Meeting the bright blue of his eyes, glinting with amusement, you nodded.

"Sheriff, you ridin'?" the operator called over.

"C'mon sweets, we'll skip the line, just this once." He led the way to the exit, where the operator was holding the gate open for you. "Thanks for clearing that up," he tipped his head at Lee as he closed the gate behind you.

Lee chuckled, "I just did the clean-up. This little lady solved the problem." He slid his arm around your waist and your chest went fuzzy at the intimate weight of his palm on your hip.

"Then my thanks go to you ma'am. Enjoy your ride."

You nodded your thanks and climbed into the cart, settling in the corner and tracing an ice cube between your knuckles. It did make them feel a little better. Lee climbed in after you, making the car sway slightly as he settled in across from you.

With a lurch, you were in motion and your gaze was torn from Lee to the expanse of the fair, spreading out below you as the wheel turned. Cresting the top, you gazed out at the maze of tents and the swarms of people shuffling from one place to the next. You watched the booths come back into focus as you circled back down and around again. Glancing at Lee, your cheeks warmed under his gaze.

"Nice view, huh?"

You nodded, scanning his face carefully. You hadn't ever thought of Lee as fat- he was huskier than a younger man would be, sure. His jaw and cheeks were a little rounded, his belly full and soft, but he wore it well, wielding it as a strength rather than a weakness. He was strong and steady- Lee felt like safety. And he was a bit older than you admittedly, but you were both adults. Hell, your mama and daddy had damn near a decade between the two of them.

Halting at the very top with a clang and a faint creaking as the car swayed slightly, you spoke up, "I'm sorry, Lee. 'Bout what he said."

He smiled wryly, "He's right, ain't he? I am old- 'm already forty. 'N I'm not as trim as I was when I was your age. I'm the one who should be apologizin'- I did force ya to come here with me."

"I-" You bit down on your lip again, "I'm glad you did."

He brightened a little, "Yeah?"

You nodded, "Yeah. And I think you're more handsome than those boys my age by a mile." Your cheeks grew hot at the admission and you turned your gaze back to the ice leaving a trail of cool dampness over your knuckles.

"C'mere darlin'. Let me take a look at that hand." He patted the seat next to him and you gave a hesitant nod before moving across the aisle.

Holding your wrist in his hand, he gently brushed his fingers over the redness on your knuckles, "It hurtin'?"

"Just a little bit," you admitted.

"Keep icing it, lemme know if it's not better by the end of the day." He pressed a kiss to the back of your hand, his eyes on yours.

His lips were soft on your skin and you bashfully averted your gaze at the look in his eyes. Casting your gaze down, you found your eyes fixed on his mouth and you wondered what those lips might feel like on your own.

Sliding your hand through his grasp to rest on his chest, you leaned in. He automatically cupped your cheek as your lips found his, pulling you into him as your lips brushed over his own. His breath catching audibly, he moved his lips against yours, brushing his thumb down the line of your jaw.

With a jolt, the car began moving again and you broke apart, Lee's breath warm on your cheeks. He draped an arm over your shoulders, "This mean you're gonna be my girl?"

"Dont get ahead of yourself, Sheriff," you teased. "But I do need to report a crime."

He smirked, "If you're gonna tell me ya stole my heart, I already know, darlin'."

Your stomach flipped, but you reached into your dress pocket, coyly pulling out his wallet, "Old habits die hard, I s'pose. Think we can work out a deal?"

He grinned, "I'll come up with somethin'."

[halothenthehorns]

Chapter 9: I LEARN HOW TO GROW ZOMBIES

"Yes!" Alex cheered upon reading the new chapter title. She'd have called dibs and wrestled this one away from anyone who dared tried to read this anyways and began on such a remarkable journey before any of them could even begin to question what Percy got up to five minutes out of camp, even while Magnus cringed into his seat in disgust at the idea of the coming apocalypse nobody else seemed concerned with!

"Does it involve plants?" Nico tried to ask like he knew what he was talking about. Wasn't that a popular game? Better to pass off the idea of ignorance he probably had more practice at growing zombies than anyone in here would be comfortable with knowing.

Will gave him another of those encouraging smiles, but for once he gave just as confused a shrug as anyone. 

The thing about flying on a pegasus during the daytime is that if you're not careful, you can cause a serious traffic accident on the Long Island Expressway. I had to keep Blackjack up in the clouds,

"These books are really inconsistent with what the Mist does and doesn't hide from sight," Jason said with all the confused excitement of a kid on a road trip.

"The mortals would see something to make their day go weird," Thalia shrugged. "If you're lucky, just a helicopter, with Percy's luck, a hang glider in a kilt. It really just depends on that person."

"Knowing my luck, it would be a duck with a knife, and then a police helicopter would be chasing me," Percy sighed.

which were, fortunately, pretty low in the winter. We darted around, trying to keep the white Camp Half-Blood van in sight. And if it was cold on the ground, it was seriously cold in the air, with icy rain stinging my skin.

I was wishing I'd brought some of that Camp Half-Blood orange thermal underwear they sold in the camp store,

"This has gone unmentioned before now," Magnus and Alex both protested as if this were a great concern.

"I don't know why, they come in all sizes." Percy grinned. "I think the Stoll's tried to talk Chiron into wearing a pair."

"There aren't a lot of winter quests," Will gave a proper answer.

but after the story about Phoebe and the centaur-blood T-shirt, I wasn't sure I trusted their products anymore.

"But there's that," Percy sighed.

"My takeaway was don't trust anything the Stoll's have given you," Jason corrected, "I'd take them up on the rest of the store." He was eyeing Percy and Will's orange t-shirts with something like confusion as he imagined himself in one, and it wasn't because he was worried they wouldn't have one in his size.

We lost the van twice, but I had a pretty good sense that they would go into Manhattan first, so it wasn't too difficult to pick up their trail again.

Traffic was bad with the holidays and all. It was mid-morning before they got into the city. I landed Blackjack near the top of the Chrysler Building and watched the white camp van, thinking it would pull into the bus station, but it just kept driving.

"Where's Argus taking them?" I muttered.

Oh, Argus ain't driving, boss, Blackjack told me. That girl is.

"Which girl?"

The Hunter girl. With the silver crown thing in her hair.

"Zoe?"

That's the one. Hey, look! There's a donut shop. Can we get something to go?

I tried explaining to Blackjack that taking a flying horse to a donut shop would give every cop in there a heart attack, but he didn't seem to get it.

"Neither do I," Jason once again rolled his eyes Percy seemed to constantly forget about the Mist.

"Maybe they'd see you in a Mustang," Will grinned.

"I don't think the Mist would make me look sixteen, the cop thing would still be an issue," Percy sighed.

Meanwhile, the van kept snaking its way toward the Lincoln Tunnel. It had never even occurred to me that Zoe could drive. I mean, she didn't look sixteen. Then again, she was immortal. I wondered if she had a New York license, and if so, what her birth date said.

"Definitely not," Thalia said with a twitching smile, confusing most of them. They'd expected her to get frazzled at the very least being in another bus so soon.

"It might have an infinity symbol next to it if Artemis gave her one," Rachel chuckled to help play off in hopes nobody would question her friend about it. Alex looked like she wanted to, but the draw of zombies had her keep going instead.

"Well," I said. "Lets get after them."

We were about to leap off the Chrysler Building when Blackjack whinnied in alarm and almost threw me. Something was curling around my leg like a snake. I reached for my sword, but when I looked down, there was no snake. Vines—grape vines—had sprouted from the cracks between the stones of the building. They were wrapping around Blackjack's legs, lashing down my ankles so we couldn't move.

Percy squealed like a stuck pig and leaped out of his chair, sword drawn and slashing at the hem of his pants in remembered horror.

The others watched the show in vague concern how he'd left camp and was being attacked by the wine gods plant, especially Will shifting about in his own seat as if ants were in his pants making Nico bite his lip in amusement. It was a good thing Mr. D didn't go around using that on everybody who annoyed him.

"Going somewhere?" Mr. D asked.

"Damn," Alex drew out in fascination. "I didn't think he'd literally drag you back if you left without permission for a quest."

"He didn't last time," Jason agreed, "and I'd say a goddess missing is even higher stakes than saving the camp."

"But Dionysus left Camp!" Magnus recalled he could apparently do this to knock up mortals, hence his twins, but it was particularly strange now he'd exercise out for this. If he could when students made a break for it, he might be thrilled. Was that another reason for his horrible behavior? Was he actively trying to make them flee the camp so he could pull this?

"Anything to cause more trouble," Percy glowered at the book, clearly least impressed and already stewing over the next insult to a god.

He was leaning against the building with his feet levitating in the air, his leopard-skin warm-up suit and black hair whipping around in the wind.

God alert! Blackjack yelled. It's the wine dude!

Mr. D sighed in exasperation. "The next person, or horse, who calls me the 'wine dude' will end up in a bottle of Merlot!"

"That threat doesn't dissuade the stereotype," Nico said critically.

"Mr. D." I tried to keep my voice calm as the grape vines continued to wrap around my legs. "What do you want?"

"Oh, what do I want? You thought, perhaps, that the immortal, all-powerful director of camp would not notice you leaving without permission?"

"Ah, more like wouldn't care," Percy was still flexing his wrists in disgust and eyeing his seat in concern.

"Well... maybe."

"I should throw you off this building, minus the flying horse, and see how heroic you sound on the way down."

"Been there, done that," Alex waved off. "He just screamed and made a flaaboom noise."

"You're not the zombie, are you?" Magnus groaned.

"Even if he did crave brains, it wouldn't help his IQ," Thalia shrugged.

"Hardy har!" Percy rolled his eyes affectionately, "I could get rich with the amount of times all of you are in awe I'm alive."

"Not off of me," Magnus rolled his eyes right back.

I balled my fists. I knew I should keep my mouth shut, but Mr. D was about to kill me or haul me back to camp in shame, and I couldn't stand either idea. "Why do you hate me so much? What did I ever do to you?"

"I was under the impression he just hated everybody at that camp," Rachel shrugged. Especially her, for adding to the count. As he so loved to remind her, at least the Oracle before her hadn't talked without the green smoke.

Purple flames flickered in his eyes. "You're a hero, boy. I need no other reason."

"Is it ironic that a god hates a hero? I feel like it is?" Magnus asked.

Jason looked a little queasy at the idea too. The gods were volatile by nature and revered for their power. Hero's were blessed to have half their gifts, and yet Percy nor any of the campers really seemed very worshipful about it. No wonder the gods would loath them really.

"I have to go on this quest! I've got to help my friends. That's something you wouldn't understand!"

Um, boss, Blackjack said nervously. Seeing as how we're wrapped in vines nine hundred feet in the air, you might want to talk nice.

"An almost literal jackass has more sense than you," Thalia frowned at him.

"Blackjack is a purebred thank you," Percy sniffed.

"Hybrid horse, the term still counts," Thalia said right back.

"That's a mule," Magnus corrected.

"This isn't about zombies!" Alex more than happily interrupted their squabble.

The grape vines coiled tighter around me. Below us, the white van was getting farther and farther away. Soon it would be out of sight.

"Did I ever tell you about Ariadne?" Mr. D asked.

"The spiders?" Percy asked as he cautiously went back to his seat.

"That's Arachne," Will told him in exasperation. "Every Athena kid curses her name!"

"That's why it sounded familiar," Percy shrugged, though his heart panged at the idea of Annabeth scolding him for that instead. Gods he hoped there weren't any spiders in that cavern dream.

"Beautiful young princess of Crete? She liked helping her friends, too. In fact, she helped a young hero named Theseus, also a son of Poseidon.

"Not this again!" Percy flopped properly into his seat in exhaustion. "Would everyone please stop comparing me to my dad and any past siblings I might have had!"

"I'm with you there buddy," Thalia nodded along while Nico kept his eyes on his boots and wished they'd stop thinking of his father first every time they looked at him too.

Alex swallowed her own agreement, not because she was hiding Loki being her mother, but because she actively denied her mother had any influence on any part of her life in the future. It was all in the past where it would stay.

She gave him a ball of magical yarn that let him find his way out of the Labyrinth.

Percy was glad he'd sat back down now as his skin crawled with stress, and he glanced at Rachel again. That was a name of something he instinctively knew he didn't like, but it meant nothing to Alex as any more than just another Greek myth she'd never heard of and so kept reading, and nobody else who winced was going to stop her for their memories of the event being perfectly intact.

And do you know how Theseus rewarded her?"

The answer I wanted to give was I don't care! But I didn't figure that would make Mr. D finish his story any faster.

"The fact that he's telling you a story is sort of disturbing," Jason informed. "Now where's the campfire and threats of murder?"

"I'm being threatened on the side of a building, the horror's plenty present," Percy assured.

"They got married," I said. "Happily ever after. The end."

Mr. D sneered. "Not quite. Theseus said he would marry her. He took her aboard his ship and sailed for Athens. Halfway back, on a little island called Naxos, he... What's the word you mortals use today?... he dumped her. I found her there, you know. Alone. Heartbroken. Crying her eyes out. She had given up everything, left everything she knew behind, to help a dashing young hero who tossed her away like a broken sandal."

"Jeez, your mom wasn't kidding about none of the old hero's getting happy endings," Magnus frowned.

"And that's not even the depressing ending," Thalia muttered.

"That's wrong," I said. "But that was thousands of years ago. What's that got to do with me?"

Mr. D regarded me coldly. "I fell in love with Ariadne, boy.

If crickets could chirp at the bottom of the ocean, they would be, as the awkward silence settled in.

"Isn't he in trouble for-"

"Yep," Alex nodded before Magnus could finish.

"And he's accusing Percy-"

"Uhhu," Alex nodded while scrutinizing the words.

"I have a headache," Magnus grumbled. Why was the world of gods and monsters no better a place than the mortal world?

"I'm glad it's not just me!" Percy raised a commiserating high five. Magnus mock did so back without looking up from his scrunched eyes shut.

I healed her broken heart. And when she died, I made her my immortal wife on Olympus. She waits for me even now. I shall go back to her when I am done with this infernal century of punishment at your ridiculous camp."

I stared at him. "You're... you're married? But I thought you got in trouble for chasing a wood nymph—"

"My point is you heroes never change. You accuse us gods of being vain. You should look at yourselves. You take what you want, use whoever you have to, and then you betray everyone around you.

"Who invented the pot and the kettle?" Percy stage whispered.

"Most likely the original kettle and pot," Will sighed. You could look at anybody's life and find the good and the bad, the more famous and longer they were around, the more one was to outweigh the other.

So you'll excuse me if I have no love for heroes. They are a selfish, ungrateful lot.

"He has kids!" Magnus reiterated. "Didn't he say he was a young god, used to be mortal?"

"You are arguing with the original cast iron skillet," Percy waved at the book. "I don't think you're going to win here man."

"The gods are not all good or all bad," Will insisted. "They, exist, just like we do. Their choices have bigger consequences, they are slow to change, but it doesn't mean they're incapable of it." He wasn't very comfortable with how clearly angry Percy was growing of the gods of late, nor with an outsider who knew nothing of their life constantly questioning all of this making it worse. After her last fight with Percy, Thalia was being pretty quiet over there, but Will wasn't going to stop reminding Percy of the family he'd fought for. "Dionysus didn't kill you Percy."

"That's such a great thing to be happy about after all his careless jabs about Annabeth," Percy scowled back, "that he didn't kill me right then."

Will couldn't answer. He couldn't remind Percy of Mr. D's grief after he lost his son, how quiet Percy had become after his trip to Calypso's island, or that Percy would be struggling with this for quite some time before and after the Battle of Manhattan. Being stuck down here now was only a temporary setback, he believed that Poseidon meant his son no harm. Now it was just a matter of making sure Percy didn't wind up like Luke by the time they got out of here.

Luckily neither Percy nor Alex were waiting around for an answer, for now.

Ask Ariadne. Or Medea. For that matter, ask Zoe Nightshade."

Thalia winced, but Rachel gazed on without surprise, only concern. It made sense after all, girls didn't usually join the Hunt because they already had happy, fulfilling lives.

"What do you mean, ask Zoe?"

He waved his hand dismissively. "Go. Follow your silly friends."

"Thank the gods he didn't chuck you off the side of the building with the horse so you could figure that out," Jason muttered.

The vines uncurled around my legs.

I blinked in disbelief. "You're... you're letting me go? Just like that?"

"The prophecy says at least two of you will die. Perhaps I'll get lucky and you'll be one of them.

Nico's olive skin went sallow at the reminder the same amount of campers had come back who had left, exchanging Thalia for Annabeth. The prophecy had taken away two of Artemis's. Dionysus hadn't gotten his wish any more than he had for the champions that day.

But mark my words, Son of Poseidon, live or die, you will prove no better than the other heroes."

"I hope you marked his words with washable markers," Rachel said proudly.

Percy's heart was spiraling without direction as he tried to smile at her. Annabeth, the gods, his mom, being trapped down here...

With that, Dionysus snapped his fingers. His image folded up like a paper display. There was a pop and he was gone, leaving a faint scent of grapes that was quickly blown away by the wind.

Too close, Blackjack said.

I nodded, though I almost would have been less worried if Mr. D had hauled me back to camp.

"You would have burned down the strawberry fields," Thalia told him confidently.

"I said less worried, not less angry," Percy agreed.

The fact that he'd let me go meant he really believed we stood a fair chance of crashing and burning on this quest.

"There's the upside," Will said with a weak smile.

"No more jokes from you today Solace," Thalia scoffed.

"Come on, Blackjack," I said, trying to sound upbeat. "I'll buy you some donuts in New Jersey."

As it turned out, I didn't buy Blackjack donuts in New Jersey.

"Such lies and sacrilege to the poor innocent pegasus," Alex said disparagingly.

"I'll be sure to feed him extra when I see him again," Percy promised, and there was just the slightest upbeat to his voice again he at least seemed confident of that. He had the horse to come back to.

Zoe drove south like a crazy person,

"Can verify," Thalia sighed, but again to their confusion she still just sounded exasperated. Not even slightly out of breath or stressed, like the time she'd nearly burned a city down had never happened.

and we were into Maryland before she finally pulled over at a rest stop.

Blackjack darn near tumbled out of the sky, he was so tired.

"How many horsepower is that bus?" Magnus asked in concern. "I don't think he can canter nonstop in the air?"

Percy felt a pang of unease for yet another friend he was letting down. He couldn't answer that, but he knew he'd been running Blackjack hard keeping up with them and was starting to wish he'd used this opportunity to sneak inside the bus.

I'll be okay, boss, he panted. Just... just catching my breath.

"Stay here," I told him. "I'm going to scout."

'Stay here' I can handle. I can do that.

I put on my cap of invisibility and walked over to the convenience store. It was difficult not to sneak. I had to keep reminding myself that nobody could see me. It was hard, too, because I had to remember to get out of people's way so they wouldn't slam into me.

"Annabeth makes everything look so easy," Percy grinned.

"Or she just trips them and blames it on ice, anyone's guess," Thalia snickered.

I thought I'd go inside and warm up, maybe get a cup of hot chocolate or something. I had a little change in my pocket. I could leave it on the counter. I was wondering if the cup would turn invisible when I picked it up, or if I'd have to deal with a floating hot chocolate problem,

"It would vanish," Thalia gave him a strange look for not knowing that. "You don't see your clothes or her backpack just floating along do you?"

"Right yeah," he agreed, pushing away the urge to scowl at her for the obvious answer. Somehow whenever she said stuff like that, it always made him feel stupid, sound more grating than if Annabeth had.

when my whole plan was ruined by Zoe, Thalia, Bianca, and Grover all coming out of the store.

"Grover, are you sure?" Thalia was saying.

"Well... pretty sure. Ninety-nine percent. Okay, eighty-five percent."

"That's still a passing grade," Jason said enthusiastically.

"I'll pass along how eager you are to see one of these tracking songs yourself," Nico chuckled. Jason looked delighted, and Will repressed the urge to roll his eyes.

"And you did this with acorns?" Bianca asked, like she couldn't believe it.

"That is the bottom of the barrel in weird," Magnus promised.

"Poor girl is on her first quest," Alex reminded, "she hasn't even gotten started on weird."

Grover looked offended. "It's a time-honored tracking spell. I mean, I'm pretty sure I did it right."

"D.C. is about sixty miles from here," Bianca said. "Nico and I..." She frowned. "We used to live there. That's... that's strange. I'd forgotten."

Nico once again received many a strange look for that, but he brushed it all away again with a heavy swallow. His shadow flickered behind him as if caught in a strobe, but everybody already turned eyes back to the book by the time it started and settled back. Almost everybody.

"I dislike this," Zoe said. "We should go straight west. The prophecy said west."

"Oh, like your tracking skills are better?" Thalia growled.

Zoe stepped toward her. "You challenge my skills, you scullion? You know nothing of being a Hunter!"

"Oh, scullion. You're calling me a scullion? What the heck is a scullion?"

"The one who cleans the chamber pots," Alex pitifully informed.

"A servant to a maid," Magnus offered, "the lowest of the low chain."

"Thanks, got that," Thalia assured.

"Why do you know that?" Percy muttered, but he knew the answer he'd get again. Readers.

"Whoa, you two," Grover said nervously. "Come on. Not again!"

"I'm just beginning to wonder if this is always how you make friends?" Jason asked with one of those smiles that made the scar on his lip dimple and stand out.

Thalia's heart squeezed too tight for her to respond. She'd never gotten the chance to grow up and argue with her baby brother. Alex was still impatiently reading to get to the walking dead to hear it.

"Grover's right," Bianca said. "D.C. is our best bet."

Zoe didn't look convinced, but she nodded reluctantly. "Very well. Let us keep moving."

"You're going to get us arrested, driving," Thalia grumbled. "I look closer to sixteen than you do."

"Perhaps," Zoe snapped. "But I have been driving since automobiles were invented. Let us go."

"That was scary. And impressive." Percy looked about as confused as somebody explaining the gods to him again. Like he still had trouble realizing things existed that long ago. Before the internet.

As Blackjack and I continued south, following the van, I wondered whether Zoe had been kidding.

"I still trust Artemis on the whole Zoe never kids thing," Will assured.

I didn't know exactly when cars were invented, but I figured that was like prehistoric times—back when people watched black-and-white TV and hunted dinosaurs.

"You mean when phones were plugged into the walls and people sent letters with stamps? I've never even seen a stamp," Magnus seemed just as baffled.

"You just made history museum top of our list when we get out of this," Alex chuckled at that dopey look on full display. Her reward was getting to watch those grey eyes land on her again, and a faint blush in his cheeks as he tried to guess what that meant. She wasn't quite sure herself anymore if she was just making fun of him either.

How old was Zoe?

Nico twitched at the bitter thought it was no wonder Bianca liked Zoe better, they had more in common, being stuck out of time. He'd tried to readily adapt to this time with his love of games and always smiling like an idiot at the bright lights. The television had only just been constructed a few years prior of when he was born, Percy would probably think he went to Catholic school on a pteranodon as soon as he would a horse-buggy.

And what had Mr. D been talking about? What bad experience had she had with heroes?

As we got closer to Washington, Blackjack started slowing down and dropping altitude.

He was breathing heavily.

"You okay?" I asked him.

Fine, boss. I could... I could take on an army.

"You don't sound so good." And suddenly I felt guilty, because I'd been running the pegasus for half a day, nonstop, trying to keep up with highway traffic. Even for a flying horse, that had to be rough.

Don't worry about me, boss! I'm a tough one.

I figured he was right, but I also figured Blackjack would run himself into the ground before he complained, and I didn't want that.

Percy wished that someone would scowl and call him a jackass. Just because Blackjack had volunteered for this didn't make this okay, and he felt lower than horse dung for doing this to his friend!

"Luke wouldn't have cared enough to ask Percy," Will gently reminded.

Percy startled, but then smiled and relaxed. He was right, Luke would have run Blackjack into the ground and called another pegasus without a second thought.

Fortunately, the van started to slow down. It crossed the Potomac River into central Washington. I started thinking about air patrols and missiles and stuff like that. I didn't know exactly how all those defenses worked, and wasn't sure if pegasi even showed up on your typical military radar, but I didn't want to find out by getting shot out of the sky.

"Yeah he might not forgive you for that one without a donut," Thalia snickered.

"A blueberry one at that," Percy smiled hopefully along that was all a joke and she didn't use him as a human shield if those missiles were deployed.

"Set me down there," I told Blackjack. "That's close enough."

Blackjack was so tired he didn't complain. He dropped toward the Washington Monument and set me on the grass.

The van was only a few blocks away. Zoe had parked at the curb.

I looked at Blackjack. "I want you to go back to camp. Get some rest. Graze. I'll be fine."

Blackjack cocked his head skeptically. You sure, boss?

"You've done enough already," I said. "I'll be fine. And thanks a ton."

A ton of hay, maybe, Blackjack mused. That sounds good. All right, but be careful, boss. I got a feeling they didn't come here to meet anything friendly and handsome like me.

"Nowhere in the world they could meet such a fella outside of camp," Rachel all but crooned with a sly look Percy didn't get. When would a mortal have been to camp? When did she meet Blackjack?

I promised to be careful. Then Blackjack took off, circling twice around the monument before disappearing into the clouds.

I looked over at the white van. Everybody was getting out. Grover pointed toward one of the big buildings lining the Mall. Thalia nodded, and the four of them trudged off into the cold wind.

I started to follow. But then I froze.

A block away, the door of a black sedan opened. A man with gray hair and a military buzz cut got out. He was wearing dark shades and a black overcoat. Now, maybe in Washington, you'd expected guys like that to be everywhere. But it dawned on me that I'd seen this same car a couple of times on the highway, going south. It had been following the van.

"And here I was beginning to wonder if Zoe had been around to invent all the best tracking and evading techniques too," Alex raised a surprised brow.

"We should have been expecting we were being followed," Thalia grimly agreed. She tried to play it off by giving Percy a light shove, as if she knew it was him all along, but the truth was they had been foolish not to expect this. Monsters had been after Nico and Bianca specifically, Thorn had been working with mortals. They'd been careless and shortsighted not looking for a tail.

"It's a good thing I followed you then," Percy puffed up his chest and swept away his hair with all the posturing of a bird. "You can thank me any time."

Thalia really did try to shove him then, causing the two to snicker that was all the thanks he was going to get, and he knew it.

The guy took out his mobile phone and said something into it. Then he looked around, like he was making sure the coast was clear, and started walking down the Mall in the direction of my friends.

The worst of it was: when he turned toward me, I recognized his face. It was Dr. Thorn, the manticore from Westover Hall.

All joking vanished from Percy as he leaned forward in his seat, bending Riptide so hard in his hand he might be in danger of snapping the pen as he concentrated again as well as he could. This beast was alive. He knew where Annabeth was.

Invisibility cap on, I followed Thorn from a distance. My heart was pounding. If he had survived that fall from the cliff, then Annabeth must have too. My dreams had been right. She was alive and being held prisoner.

"I couldn't even wish your dreams were wrong," Magnus agreed with dread. Her only options were to be held as prisoner, or dead. A nightmare in any reality.

Thorn kept well back from my friends, careful not to be seen.

Finally, Grover stopped in front of a big building that said NATIONAL AIR AND SPACE MUSEUM. The Smithsonian! I'd been here a million years ago with my mom, but everything had looked so much bigger then.

The surprise of Thorn showing up had mostly distracted anybody from asking why they stopped, but even Percy and Alex looked up from their laser focus to stare at Thalia with big question mark faces.

"What's a quest without sightseeing?" She, as usual, was no help with an answer. She even felt bad for this one, what would it hurt Percy just to assure it was Grover's tracking song leading them here, Jason might even get a kick out of it.

She didn't want to risk hurting him again though, since he soon got to witness his best friend doing a jig himself later and even hinting at details could make it worse right now.

Percy groaned and Alex couldn't blame him for constantly being frustrated his friend didn't have many helpful answers that wouldn't get them killed in here.

Thalia checked the door. It was open, but there weren't many people going in. Too cold, and school was out of session. They slipped inside.

Dr. Thorn hesitated. I wasn't sure why, but he didn't go into the museum. He turned and headed across the Mall. I made a split-second decision and followed him.

"Those impulses of yours are going to save the world," Alex told him with admiration. Why follow his friends when he could get the drop on the enemy.

Thorn crossed the street and climbed the steps of the Museum of Natural History. There was a big sign on the door. At first I thought it said CLOSED FOR PIRATE EVENT.

Nico's delighted snort of laughter was the loudest of all, but he was distracted from imagining guinea pig Percy in a plastic hamster ball running around one of those by Will smiling at him like he'd been sucker punched. "I'm sure that's a real event somewhere, everything is lately," he told him instantly.

Nico still looked at him strangely, like he was still waiting for Will to start mocking him now that he realized the Son of Apollo knew of more of his interests, but Will was just smiling same as ever.

Then I realized PIRATE must be PRIVATE.

"That dyslexia stuff must make for some awesome confusion," Alex said not unkindly.

"Because the Mist and monsters didn't do that enough," Percy shrugged.

I followed Dr. Thorn inside, through a huge chamber full of mastodons and dinosaur skeletons.

"Please tell me they're zombies like a strange Jurassic Park spin-off," Magnus's frown was hopefully cautious. Only Will noticed Nico mouthing Jurassic Park spin-off with a blank look.

"I could live with that," Alex nodded along.

"Nobody questioning how and why Percy's mere presence is going to bring prehistoric animals to life?" Jason chuckled enthusiastically.

"Well I don't think Thorn's poison is going to do the trick," Percy said without a hint of thrill at the idea as well as he rubbed his shoulder in remembrance.

There were voices up ahead, coming from behind a set of closed doors. Two guards stood outside. They opened the doors for Thorn, and I had to sprint to get inside before they closed them again.

Inside, what I saw was so terrible I almost gasped out loud, which probably would've gotten me killed.

"Of all the things you've done to nearly get yourself killed," Rachel winced. "Let's hope you don't sneeze."

Percy gave her a strange look and winced a bit, and she smiled guiltily, having forgotten for a moment he wouldn't get the joke.

I was in a huge round room with a balcony ringing the second level. At least a dozen mortal guards stood on the balcony, plus two monsters—reptilian women with double-snake trunks instead of legs. I'd seen them before. Annabeth had called them Scythian dracaenae.

Even just remembering the scared tremble on her voice as she'd told that to him tugged on his heart. She should be here in that memory, beside him to keep an eye on their friends as they went to rescue Artemis; though she would have just been invited on the quest and he still would have snuck along. She should be here beside him now hearing his crazy adventure without her. She should be here with her arm around him to chase that scared tremble in her voice away from his memory.

But that wasn't the worse of it. Standing between the snake women—I could swear he was looking straight down at me—was my old enemy Luke.

'Traitor,' the caution hissed through Jason's mind. There was a traitor at camp from Luke, but no one in this quest could possibly be it. Grover wasn't around to sell them out last summer, unless Luke had more than one around Camp?

He'd bet his memories being gone for good it wasn't Thalia. A rash swear on the Styx he'd still commit to.

It couldn't be a Huntress...but there was literally no other explanation why this could possibly be a meeting place for Thorn. Was it Zoe? She'd been so committed to Artemis, or possibly a really good actress? It couldn't be Bianca, unless she'd somehow managed to fake during that first meeting she had no clue what was going on.

 Luke being there was just too huge a coincidence he couldn't help but vow to keep his suspicions open Luke may have acquired more spies than whomever the undiscovered one at camp was.

He looked terrible. His skin was pale and his blond hair looked almost gray, as if he'd aged ten years in just a few months. The angry light in his eyes was still there, and so was the scar down the side of his face, where a dragon had once scratched him. But the scar was now ugly red, as though it had recently been reopened.

Perhaps Magnus's previous theory about punishments and displeasing Kronos weren't so far off track. This was a far cry from the boy in his lavish sweet on a cruise liner bragging to Percy and Annabeth about his great choices.

There was no true sympathy in his heart though after leaving Annabeth in that trap for an untold time like there was in Will though, as he leaned forward in his seat. Will couldn't begin to imagine what all Luke had been through, but some part of him still hoped if Luke had just talked to someone instead of going so long silently resenting the gods he would have stopped this in its tracks. Had the Son of Hermes ever confided in any of the other half-bloods he recruited except to give nasty speeches about toppling thrones? Some part of Will still wished he could have lent an ear to Luke while offering him an ambrosia square to help, even if he had to handcuff this traitor and drag him back to camp kicking and screaming to do it.

Next to him, sitting down so that the shadows covered him, was another man. All I could see were his knuckles on the gilded arms of his chair, like a throne.

"Well?" asked the man in the chair. His voice was just like the one I'd heard in my dream—not as creepy as Kronos's, but deeper and stronger, like the earth itself was talking. It filled the whole room even though he wasn't yelling.

Percy repressed the urge to shiver at the memory of that and regretted himself all the cracks he'd made in the floor, grateful as everyone no voice had come from them.

Nico shivered right along with him as he imagined the same from something even more powerful than a Titan, the mother of them.

Dr. Thorn took off his shades. His two-colored eyes, brown and blue, glittered with excitement. He made a stiff bow, then spoke in his weird French accent: "They are here, General."

"I know that, you fool," boomed the man. "But where?"

"In the rocket museum."

"The Air and Space Museum," Luke corrected irritably.

Will made his own pained grimace as he whispered, "you all would have loved the time we took a field trip there."

Nobody felt the need to ask further questions, it clearly wasn't a happy memory for him. Perhaps because Annabeth had once corrected anybody who dared miss phrase the place while she'd been running around there. Thalia even smiled again for a brief moment as she imagined Chiron in his wheelchair trying to keep up with her, Annabeth smiling so brightly as Luke patiently listened to everything she had to say between the entrance and the gift shop, Clarisse and Salina being forced into the buddy system on the trip.

It was all in a bleak discerption of a memory from Chiron over a whispered game of cards as she'd hidden away from the harpies and he'd taken pity on her rather than sending her to bed. All the grand trips that were as close to quests as they'd come before Luke's failed fruit mission.

Dr. Thorn glared at Luke. "As you say, sir."

I got the feeling Thorn would just as soon impale Luke with one of his spikes as call him sir.

Thalia grimaced, she hated having something in common with that monster, even a common enemy.

"How many?" Luke asked.

Thorn pretended not to hear.

"How many?" the General demanded.

"Four, General," Thorn said. "The satyr, Grover Underwood. And the girl with the spiky black hair and the—how do you say—punk clothes and the horrible shield."

"Thalia," Luke said.

Thalia's eyes sparked with anger he pretended to care enough to make sure they got her name right as she vividly imagined shoving his head in a rocket and turning one on.

"And two other girls—Hunters. One wears a silver circlet."

"That one I know," the General growled.

Everyone in the room shifted uncomfortably.

"Let me take them," Luke said to the General. "We have more than enough—"

"Patience," the General said. "They'll have their hands full already. I've sent a little playmate to keep them occupied."

"Why do I feel like they didn't bring blocks and toy swords?" Jason muttered.

"Where are the zombies?" Ales was pouting they'd gone practically this whole chapter without brain-eating corpses. "It didn't mean Luke did it?"

Thalia once again swallowed without answer it might as well mean him. He was a shell of himself, having already sold his soul to Kronos.

"But—"

"We cannot risk you, my boy."

"Yes, boy," Dr. Thorn said with a cruel smile. "You are much too fragile to risk.

"Luke loved that by the way," Percy informed them, his sneer had nothing on Luke's venomous look that could have rivaled Thorn's spikes. The baffling implication left them much more confused what Thorn could mean by that, though Magnus at least tried to tell himself it was just bad guy, in house, squabbling.

Let me finish them off."

"No." The General rose from his chair, and I got my first look at him.

He was tall and muscular, with light brown skin and slicked-back dark hair. He wore an expensive brown silk suit like the guys on Wall Street wear, but you'd never mistake this dude for a broker. He had a brutal face, huge shoulders, and hands that could snap a flagpole in half. His eyes were like stone. I felt as if I were looking at a living statue. It was amazing he could even move.

Thalia's eyes glimmered with somehow yet more hatred, a truly frightening expression that nearly rivaled Aegis none of them thought could top her scowl for Luke moments ago.

She would have struck him without hesitation and much more for whatever he'd done to her.

"You have already failed me, Thorn," he said.

"But, General—"

"No excuses!"

Thorn flinched. I'd thought Thorn was scary when I first saw him in his black uniform at the military academy. But now, standing before the General, Thorn looked like a silly wannabe soldier. The General was the real deal. He didn't need a uniform. He was a born commander.

There was a ripple of unease around the room that came from no one demigod. Such a powerful leader that struck Percy left those not in the know just how much worse Kronos himself could possibly be. Yet Thalia alone who had seen his mortal form still only saw this atrocity of a Titan as a warmup for the pain she expected to feel fresh and sharp as ever. She swore vengeance on Zoe's killer even trapped in his imprisonment again, and it was nothing compared to the twisted root of pain lodged in her every time Luke's name was said.

"I should throw you into the pits of Tartarus for your incompetence," the General said. "I send you to capture a child of the three elder gods, and you bring me a scrawny daughter of Athena."

Alex and Magnus exchanged uneasy glances. They'd thought Bianca was the true goal that day, they needed a girl to capture Artemis, Percy was just a bonus when he showed up. Now they realized the Di Angelo kids were just bait...but how had Thorn known who would come to fetch them? Was it possible Thorn through Luke knew who Grover was and would call for help?

"Scrawny!" Was the only word Percy seemed to hear as bubbles flumed from his ears in anger once more.

"But you promised me revenge.'" Thorn protested. "A command of my own!"

"I am Lord Kronos's senior commander," the General said. "And I will choose lieutenants who get me results! It was only thanks to Luke that we salvaged our plan at all. Now get out of my sight, Thorn, until I find some other menial task for you."

Thorn's face turned purple with rage. I thought he was going to start frothing at the mouth or shooting spines, but he just bowed awkwardly and left the room.

"Now, my boy." The General turned to Luke. "The first thing we must do is isolate the half-blood Thalia. The monster we seek will then come to her."

Jason studied Thalia with a pit of concern, the untold prophecy nagging in his mind. It wasn't the only reason he could imagine them singling her out, Zeus surely had many enemies, a likely one possibly whoever this mystery man was. Thalia getting a choice to save the gods though would be a more comforting answer, because he was confident of that outcome, what she'd do. Anything else, he found himself nearly freezing up in concern what they could have done to her, what monster could this be?

"The Hunters will be difficult to dispose of," Luke said. "Zoe Nightshade—"

"Do not speak her name!"

"My liking for Zoe just went up tenfold," Rachel said darkly. Anything that upset this guy could only be used for their advantage, even the Persian princess.

Luke swallowed. "S—sorry, General. I just—"

The General silenced him with a wave of his hand. "Let me show you, my boy, how we will bring the Hunters down."

He pointed to a guard on the ground level. "Do you have the teeth?"

The guy stumbled forward with a ceramic pot. "Yes, General!"

"Plant them," he said.

"Do we have a botanist handy?" Will asked blearily, wishing Katie was around to turn to. He had no clue what was coming.

"I'll do you half of one," Nico muttered in disgust. He knew of a fair few from listening to the Demeter kids and Persephone threatening to poison him. He also knew of every ritual to summon the dead due to his own practicing, though he needed no aid like these mortals were doing, performing this ancient act.

Will gave him a curious, hopeful look, the exact opposite of what he'd expect expressing knowledge of zombies. The guy really was weirdly happy about everything.

In the center of the room was a big circle of dirt, where I guess a dinosaur exhibit was supposed to go. I watched nervously as the guard took sharp white teeth out of the pot and pushed them into the soil. He smoothed them over while the General smiled coldly.

The guard stepped back from the dirt and wiped his hands. "Ready, General!"

"Excellent! Water them, and we will let them scent their prey."

The guard picked up a little tin watering can with daisies painted on it, which was kind of bizarre, because what he poured out wasn't water. It was dark red liquid, and I got the feeling it wasn't Hawaiian Punch.

Cursed blood, enchanted and stolen from the enemies. Nico swallowed and didn't offer that information, he had a feeling it would wipe Will's smile away when he realized who may have been sacrificed to fill that daisy watering can.

The soil began to bubble.

"Soon," the General said, "I will show you, Luke, soldiers that will make your army from that little boat look insignificant."

Luke clenched his fists. "I've spent a year training my forces! When the Princess Andromeda arrives at the mountain, they'll be the best—"

"Ha.'" the General said. "I don't deny your troops will make a fine honor guard for Lord Kronos. And you, of course, will have a role to play—"

I thought Luke turned paler when the General said that.

Percy studied the book in Alex's hands and swallowed vomit, knowing he felt sick enough already before a zombie popped up now. That. That was something he should have a memory about, and should possibly for the first time thank whoever took them away to save him from whatever it was.

"—but under my leadership, the forces of Lord Kronos will increase a hundredfold. We will be unstoppable. Behold, my ultimate killing machines."

The soil erupted. I stepped back nervously.

In each spot where a tooth had been planted, a creature was struggling out of the dirt.

Magnus was leaning all the way back in his seat and bracing himself for horrible descriptions that hit to close to home, having seen the dead on the streets, most citizens walking right past and not even realizing it. Of desiccated skin and jaws that wreaked of human flesh, with shuffling gates and soulless eyes in a forbidden human face-

The first of them said:

"Mew?"

"Kitten?" Magnus leaned excitedly over Alex's shoulder, a silly cartoon book coming back to him he hadn't thought of in years as his mom laughed with him about Freya loving cats.

"Well I didn't say moo," Alex grinned in agreement.

It was a kitten. A little orange tabby with stripes like a tiger. Then another appeared, until there were a dozen, rolling around and playing in the dirt.

"These are the cutest killing machines we will ever experience," Will beamed.

"Have you already forgotten Annabeth?" But Percy was smiling along in confused surprise just as much what the heck was going on. Maybe he could steal one for Annabeth when she got back, cats loved to chase spiders, right?

Everyone stared at them in disbelief. The General roared, "What is this? Cute cuddly kittens? Where did you find those teeth?"

The guard who'd brought the teeth cowered in fear. "From the exhibit, sir! Just like you said. The saber-toothed tiger—"

"No, you idiot! I said the tyrannosaurus! Gather up those... those infernal fuzzy little beasts and take them outside. And never let me see your face again."

"Honestly, that guy got off easy," Jason said with a raised brow. No remorse at all for the mortal who had passively stood around and been okay dishing out previous orders to kidnap and shoot kids. "How do you even swap those two?"

"Maybe somebody went around and played with a few placards?" Will said with a chuckle as he vividly remembered what Travis and Connor had gotten up to while there, but even then, it was really hard to imagine somebody couldn't look at the skeleton and get the wrong carcass so badly.

The terrified guard dropped his watering can. He gathered up the kittens and scampered out of the room.

"You.'" The General pointed to another guard. "Get me the right teeth. NOW!"

The new guard ran off to carry out his orders.

"Imbeciles,' muttered the General.

"This is why I don't use mortals," Luke said. "They are unreliable."

"They are weak-minded, easily bought, and violent," the General said. "I love them."

"Somebody has to," Percy muttered, though he didn't look happy of all the things to imagine Grover and this guy would agree on. His eyes were on Rachel again though, that inexplicable feeling of knowing  she was mortal...and yet associated none of that with her like he did Gabe. He didn't hate mortals on principle, but his time with most of them wasn't good memories...except her for some reason...when he couldn't reach those memories!

A minute later, the guard hustled into the room with his hands full of large pointy teeth.

"Excellent," the General said. He climbed onto the balcony railing and jumped down, twenty feet.

Where he landed, the marble floor cracked under his leather shoes. He stood, wincing, and rubbed his shoulders. "Curse my stiff neck."

"Is that supposed to be a hint of who he is," Jason asked a little breathlessly, and he just knew the answer was buried somewhere in his mind...

Percy shrugged without much care though, fidgeting as restlessly in his seat as ever like everything but hearing about Annabeth caused him.

"Another hot pad, sir?" a guard asked. "More Tylenol?"

"No! It will pass." The General brushed off his silk suit, then snatched up the teeth. "I shall do this myself."

"Damn, sucks to have a go-getter leader," Alex frowned for having always admired anybody willing to do what they dish out, even watering zombies.

"There's something we have in common," Jason nodded along with the same perplexed look.

Thalia popped the collar of her jacket and cleared her throat with a malevolent smile. "I thank you for the kind words."

"Anytime girlie," Alex nodded.

He held up one of the teeth and smiled. "Dinosaur teeth—ha! Those foolish mortals don't even know when they have dragon teeth in their possession. And not just any dragon teeth. These come from the ancient Sybaris herself! They shall do nicely."

"Do I even want to know?" Magnus looked a little hopeful though they wouldn't be human zombies, which was like point one percent better.

"Sybaris was like a Scythian dracaenae, but worse," Nico supplied without concern. "Snake with feet, but a rooster head, mountain-sized," he concluded mildly. A Persian myth, making it slightly ironic why Percy had earlier mistaken Zoe of looking of that decent if Atlas had any association there. "It's odd though, because that's not what these guys turn out to be." Perhaps the resurrection process had to be performed by a priest of Hades to actually bring back the exact dragon, and these minions had been invoked from the process done by Atlas not performing the ceremony correctly.*

Will was looking for it now, and pressed his lips together unhappily to watch Nico's shadow flicker as he kept himself uptight and disconnected while explaining that, and Magnus was to busy making faces at dragons and zombies existing in the same sentence to notice. 

How could Will possibly guess Nico was trying his hardest to suppress the memory of these things showing up on the worst day of his life, Percy saying nonsense, she was dead, he could hear their ghostly promises of more death on his hero and, and he just couldn't let him die, but he couldn't stand to look at him either...so he ran- stop! Moving on!

Magnus's mood had been dragged down with every word Nico used to describe them, and Percy looked no more thrilled what was actually going to come out of the dirt. To Nico's bemusement, but for once not surprise as he got used to Will, the guy gave him a smile and once again asked, "is she in Mythomagic?"

"You guessed it," Nico agreed without hesitating to smile back.

He planted them in the dirt, twelve in all. Then he scooped up the watering can. He sprinkled the soil with red liquid, tossed the can away, and held his arms out wide. Rise!

The dirt trembled. A single, skeletal hand shot out of the ground, grasping at the air.

The General looked up at the balcony. "Quickly, do you have the scent?"

"Yesssss, lord," one of the snake ladies said. She took out a sash of silvery fabric, like the kind the Hunters wore.

"Excellent," the General said. "Once my warriors catch its scent, they will pursue its owner relentlessly. Nothing can stop them, no weapons known to half-blood or Hunter. They will tear the Hunters and their allies to shreds. Toss it here!"

As he said that, skeletons erupted from the ground. There were twelve of them, one for each tooth the General had planted. They were nothing like Halloween skeletons, or the kind you might see in cheesy movies. These were growing flesh as I watched, turning into men, but men with dull gray skin, yellow eyes, and modern clothes—gray muscle shirts, camo pants, and combat boots. If you didn't look too closely, you could almost believe they were human, but their flesh was transparent and their bones shimmered underneath, like X-ray images.

Magnus groaned in disgust and now knew the next time he sensed the dying ember of life leaving a mortal's body wrapped in trash bags, he'd get another horrible memory on top.

Alex met his eyes, licked her lips, but then turned back to the book. He sat stunned as he realized she wasn't hollering in pleasure at finally getting her reward of live zombies, she wasn't laughing and begging anybody to teach her how to do this.

Maybe, maybe his guess was right and the strained, hint of recognition of seeing her in a kitchen out of the corner of his eye was real. That she'd seen the gruesome side of humanity too, and this was just her way of dealing with it, smiling grimly through to laugh in the face of danger.

One of them looked straight at me, regarding me coldly, and I knew that no cap of invisibility would fool it.

The snake lady released the scarf and it fluttered down toward the General's hand. As soon as he gave it to the warriors, they would hunt Zoe and the others until they were extinct.

I didn't have time to think. I ran and jumped with all my might, plowing into the warriors and snatching the scarf out of the air.

"Percy..." Thalia couldn't begin to find words to thank him for what he'd done. Artemis would have grieved and sworn revenge for them, if they'd even made it through this quest at all, but there was no telling if their goddess would have even continued the hunt at all with her maidens after a decimation like that. She was struck with awe she could go back and tell her crew a male hero had saved the legacy of them all, if not in spirit, than literally.

"Thalia," Percy bobbed his head and turned back to the book. That was that, all that was needed as he watched the gratitude in her eyes.

"What's this?" bellowed the General.

I landed at the feet of a skeleton warrior, who hissed.

"An intruder," the General growled. "One cloaked in darkness. Seal the doors!"

"It's Percy Jackson!" Luke yelled. "It has to be."

"That was presumptuous," Percy looked almost pleased though he was so high on the list of people Luke suspected.

"You get a cookie for the big kid word," Thalia patted his shoulder and grinned at him swatting her away.

I sprinted for the exit, but heard a ripping sound and realized the skeleton warrior had taken a chunk out of my sleeve. When I glanced back, he was holding the fabric up to his nose, sniffing the scent, handing it around to his friends. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't. I squeezed through the door just as the guards slammed it shut behind me.

And then I ran.

Rachel shivered in particular disgust as Alex declared she was done. When she'd asked Percy where those skeletons chasing him had come from, he'd been pretty vague about the answer. He spent those weeks with her talking of anything but his father's side of the family, basking in what could have possibly been his last mortal, normal summer.

She watched Percy now as he got to his feet and cautiously went for the book, an expression more similar to fear twitching across his face than she ever would have believed possible was there. The last time he'd had his memories in hand, Annabeth had gone over a cliff. He took it now and looked from it to her, something strange still trying to wage with the memories of his girlfriend as he slowly went back to his seat beside her.

She'd thought she had a crush on him, and maybe there for a time he'd looked at her and wondered what life would be like if he could have a simple life with her too.

But just like she'd always known he would from the second she saw him and Annabeth together, he turned away with only slight hesitation and kept reading to find his way back to her, and she smiled and declared excitedly, "are we taking a lunch soon, I'm starving?"

PJOPJOPJO

*Why did dragon teeth create human skeletons? No clue, but I don't think my explanation makes it make less sense.

[thatesqcrush]

Voire Dire

Rafael Barba x Reader. Warnings: implied fem masturbation, slightly dub-con at the end (kissing) but reader is very enthusiastic. WC: 3,339

It was an ordinary morning on an ordinary day. It was early and the eighth floor was just beginning to fill up. You had already been in the office for well over two hours, working on a motion and you were already running against the clock. As people milled about, settling in, you grabbed your noise canceling headphones and slipped them on over your ears. 

You frowned when you realized your coffee cup was empty. You were in need for more coffee but did not have the time for it. As you let out an irritated sigh, you noticed the head of the junior ADA department, Sonny Carisi, stride in. As he passed by your desk, a brown paper bag plopped onto the desk. You slipped off your headphones and swiveled around.

“And what is this, Dominick?” You teased, as you reached into the bag.

“Bear-claw. Coffee - light and sweet.” Sonny called out as he settled into his office.

“God bless ya’ Sonny. You answered my prayers.” You called out, before blowing on the cup. It was so hot, steam rose from the small opening and the heat pricked your fingers. “How did you know?”

“A little birdie named Marjorie.” He replied. He stuck his head out the door. “She told me you were coming in early and if I recall anything from our Fordham days, it’s that you always forget to take care of yourself when you’re under the wire.”

You gave him a pointed look, which then softened into a smile. “Thank you, Sonny. Much appreciated. And when you win that Mickey Davis case, I am going to take you out for a celebratory drink.”

“Don’t start, we don’t even know what will happen. He may plead out.” Sonny replied. “I gotta go - meeting with the boss actually on this. Get back to work.”

“Yes sir!” You mocked saluted, before swiveling back to your computer. Time was ticking after all. 

**

The rest of the morning seemed to pass in a blur. Again, nothing extraordinary happened. And as you electronically filed your motion, you spun around in your seat, with your arms in the air, in silent victory. 

As you faced your desk, you saw Sonny walking back down to his office with a very handsome, distinguished looking man behind him. It was clear the two of them were having some kind of heated discussion. And you couldn’t care less. Because the man he was with, was the most handsome man you had ever laid eyes on. He wore dark jeans and blue and pink checkered shirt with a dark grey peacoat. His hair was perfectly coiffed, nary a hair out of place. And he had a meticulously groomed beard. His hair and his beard were dark, with salt and pepper flicked through. You had a sudden urge to tug on his beard and you wondered what it would feel like against your skin, as you slid your tongue into his. 

The man sauntered past your desk and you looked up, feeling a flutter shoot through you as your eyes met. You caught a whiff of the cologne he wore - faint whiffs of vetiver and bergamot - and you closed your eyes, enjoying the olfactory overload. You so badly wanted to turn around, but you could not. So you settled for leaning to the side in an attempt to eavesdrop.

“You know who that is, right?” You jumped in your seat slightly and looked up at Marjorie, your co-worker, and fellow ADA.

“No. But he is nice to the eyes.” You smirked. 

“That’s Rafael Barba.” Marjorie hissed. 

You sat up straight. “That’s him? The Rafael Barba?” You scanned the office and sure enough, people were whispering and talking to each other as they looked behind you. 

You couldn’t hear everything, but you could glean whatever they were talking about was not regular old shop talk. 

You heard something about a ‘nice view’ and ‘had to move the Xerox machine and four filing cabinets just to get the desk in,’ and you snorted. 

“Yeah, the one who k-worded a baby,” Marjorie continued, as she sat on the corner of your desk. She ripped off a remnant of your long-forgotten bear claw and popped it in her mouth. 

“He did not k-word a baby.” It was now your turn to hiss. “That baby was already dead. He… expedited its passing.”

“Well, regardless. No one has seen him since then. Last I heard he was working with The Innocence Project,” Marjorie replied, plucking another piece of the bear-claw.

The door swung open, Rafael turning to face Sonny. “I'm going for straight-up not guilty.” Rafael stormed past you, once more, a breeze blowing by as he did so - and with it, his cologne wafted once more and you felt the back of your neck prick. Arousal shot through you, starting between your thighs, but rising to make your breath hitch. 

Marjorie hopped off your desk and dashed into Sonny’s office. You stood to do so, as Rafael as he stalked by. Your eyes met once more.

“Good morning,” Rafael acknowledged curtly. You felt your cheeks burn and you gave him a small smile, before following Marjorie.

**

Lunch had rolled around. You rapped on Sonny’s door. “Hey - want to grab lunch with Marj and I?”

“Nah, can’t. Barba’s taking the Mickey Davis case on and I need to prep,” Sonny replied. He sighed before dropping his head into his hands, groaning.

You shut the door quickly behind you and moved to lower the blinds in his office. “Hey - talk to me. Barba was your mentor, right?”

Sonny looked up at you and nodded. “Yeah, he was. He was the best ADA here - I mean, he took on cases others dodged. He taught me so much. And now… it’s like jedi master and padawan here.”

You grimaced. “Sonny, don’t sell yourself short. You are an excellent lawyer and you’ve got the chops. If anything, he should be the one who’s worried.” 

Sonny guffawed in response. “Don’t quit ya’ day job, Y/N.”

You crossed your arms and cocked your brow. “Come on, pizza. On me. Let’s go.”

Sonny rolled his eyes and nodded. “Okay, okay. But not Marco’s. That place is not real Italian.”

“Whatever, pizza snob.” You laughed as you both walked out. 

**

Time flew by. Sonny was at voire dire and you chewed on your thumbnail waiting for him to return. You decided to throw yourself into work in an attempt to keep your mind otherwise occupied. 

When Sonny did eventually return, he looked defeated and worn. He shuffled back into his office, his shoulders hunched over. You waited a good minute before knocking on his office. 

“How'd it go at voir dire?” You asked softly, as you knocked on his door. Sonny was chugging pepto-bismol and he grimaced as he turned to you. “It was the Rafael Barba show, charming and cherry-picking jurors for twelve straight hours.”

“Yeah, the office mill said he was a dog with a bone.” You shrugged, pulling a chair out and sitting.

Sonny laughed. “Yeah. Now get this - I'm looking at his witness list, and he tracked down AJ’s other foster kids, ACS employees, VA shrinks. How big of a staff does he have?”

You shrugged again. “I don’t know.”

Sonny gave you a look. “Dollars to donuts, I think it’s my old squad - Rollins, Liv, and Fin helping him out.”

“You don’t know that.” You interjected.

“It's fine. Barba was here before me. I know where their loyalties are,” Sonny replied. 

“When's opening statements?” 

“A day from tomorrow.” Sonny replied. “Which means I will be here all night prepping.”

“Do you want any help?” You asked. 

“It’s fine - it’s late. You should go home. If there’s something, I’ll let you know.” 

You nodded and bid him a good night, before heading home.

** 

At home, you climbed into bed and tried to watch a repeat of your favorite procedural show but could not focus. You spent the entire commute home, replaying the events of earlier in the week when Rafael came by. He smelled so wonderful and when his eyes locked on yours, your heart skipped in a way that it hadn’t in a long time. Picturing his eyes… his beard… you became warm and a ripple of arousal coursed through you, causing the ache between your legs to intensify. You had a drawer full of toys that you knew you would help, but sometimes, your own fingers were best – you knew you better than any other toy could. You slipped your fingers down your sleep shorts and under the waistband of your underwear. It didn’t take much – as you suspected it would not – and when you came, it was Rafael’s name that escaped from your lips. The ache lessened – and, for now, it was enough.

**

Time flew and before you knew it, the case was winding up - or so you heard through the grapevine. That office leaked like a sieve. Your phone buzzed loudly one morning. You groaned and looked at the clock - you still had twenty minutes of sleep left. Yawning, you sat up and rubbed your eyes awake.

[Marjorie: Come meet us at court - closing arguments on the Davis case and we are all going down to root for Sonny]

You quickly wrote back: who’s we?

[Marjorie: A few of us from 8th. Come on!]

You bit your bottom lip and then hit two little letters: ok. You quickly showered, threw on your pants and an oversized sweater. You grabbed a pair of wedges and made your way uptown.

**

The case was intense and heated. Emotions were rising. You fidgeted in your seat as Sonny faced off with Rafael. In the end, the jury deliberated in six hours and found Mickey Davis guilty. He was charged with manslaughter two.

Sonny caught up with the group from the eighth floor in the gallery who all congratulated him on his big win. You half-listened and half kept an eye on Rafael, who was busy gathering his paperwork. He looked handsome in his black bespoke suit, now cleanly shaven.  You frowned - the beard suited him. But it didn’t temper his handsomeness; with or without, it was as if he made your eyes burn. It also appeared to have turned him into a real-life Benjamin Button, so to speak. He appeared much younger than he did when he did that day in One Hogan Place.

Rafael turned again, and his eyes scanned the group in the back before his eyes settled on yours once more. You ducked your head, feeling embarrassed at having been caught and when you looked up at him, a smile had graced his face.

He began to head your way, tucking his briefcase under his arm. Your heart began to race and your palms were sweaty. You wracked your brain for a reason to leave but couldn’t come up with anything. And then Rafael was in front of you.

“Hi - you’re Carisi’s colleague?” Rafael asked as you were now afforded a close-up view. His eyes were the most intense seafoam green and you knew if allowed, you would drown in them. 

“Uh - yes. My name is Y/F/N Y/L/N. I am a junior ADA.” You tripped over your words, feeling your cheeks burn. What was it about this man that renders me into a bumbling fool? you thought.

“Rafael Barba.” Rafael extended his hand and you took it, shaking it.

“Pleasure.”

“No, that’s all mine.” His eyes crinkled and a small smile graced his face. You felt your cheeks burn once more.

Sonny turned away from the group and faced you and Rafael. “We’re going to Rudy’s for a beer. Want to come? The squad is going to come.”

Rafael opened his mouth and paused, looking over at you. Feeling put on the spot, you nodded, going along. “Sure - a beer would be great.” You then turned to look at Rafael. “Coming with?”

Rafael nodded - wanting nothing more than to spend time with you - this creature who had enchanted him. He had to admit, he had hoped to see you more - but in his head, that meant an impromptu visit to the DA’s office, where he wasn’t necessarily well received any longer. Or, it meant asking Carisi - and he didn’t want to be grilled by the former detective. You were young - younger than him of course, but he couldn’t imagine you were that much younger - and at the same time he did not want to seem like a cradle robbing perv. The group dispersed outside, braving the elements of New York City. It was biting cold - the coldest day of the year - and the wind whipped around something wicked. You rubbed your gloved hands together as you all headed to Rudy’s. You and Rafael hung back, following the group, but at the same time, both knowing the route, having made the trek many times prior. 

“So how long have you been with the DA’s office?” Rafael asked. Small, misty clouds emitted from your breaths as you chit-chatted. 

“Two years. I was originally in Brooklyn, but I requested a lateral move.” You replied. 

“That’s where I started too.” Rafael replied. A taxicab approached and Rafael waved his hand up and across from you, signaling to the car to slow down so that you two could cross. You didn’t miss how his hand cradled your back gently as you both crossed the street to the bar. Yout stomach flip-flopped in response.

**

The bar was empty, save for the group. Large colorful bulbs hung throughout, keeping in theme with the upcoming holiday. At the hightops, each table was outfitted with a miniature wreath with a candle in the middle. After a while, the squad from SVU also joined and everyone toasted Sonny on his victory. The corners of your lips twitched as Rafael said “To irony,” at Sonny’s response that they were just back where they started.

Rafael was engrossed in a conversation with Sonny’s former squad, and you watched him intently. You played with your napkin and wondered more about him and who he was. Sure, you had heard about the Householder case and how the prosecutor was acquitted - and sure, you had read some of his court briefs. But you had never thought in a million years that you would be so close to him. Many other former ADAs came to visit, but Rafael Barba never did. He had essentially dodged the office for years. You didn’t hear much of him, only in passing from Sonny while you were both in Fordham.

Hours went by, many drinks had been had. One by one, the group had dispersed, until it was just you, Sonny, Amanda, and Rafael. You all decided to move to a booth. You were slightly unsteady, having had too many glasses of wine and very little to eat. You knew in the morning you would be paying the price.

“Water for Y/N and fries for the table.” Amanda announced as she slid the food to the middle of the table, and the water towards you. 

You plucked a fry from the table and tried to focus on what Amanda was talking about. Sonny made a quip and everyone laughed. You used the opportunity to sneak another glance towards Rafael. His sleeves were rolled up, showing off his well defined forearms. A sole finger traced the rim of his lowball glass, which was half-full. Your eyes were drawn to the Rolex on his wrist and you noticed the time.

“Oh, it’s late - I should get going,” you remarked, as you pulled Rafael’s arm close to your face, looking at the time more closely. “Sorry,” you murmur, releasing his arm. You stand and wobble once more, and Rafael stands, catching you. 

“Good idea; it is late,” Rafael replied. “Let me just close out the tab.” Amanda and Sonny protested as they reached for their wallets and Rafael waved them off. 

“I can go home with you honey.” Amanda offered. 

You shook your head. “I’m fine.”

“Y/N, you know better than that; someone should go with you.” Sonny replied. “Amanda and I can.”

“Sonny you’re all the way uptown - I am all the way downtown. It’ll be fine.” You argued as you put your coat on.

Rafael returned, placing his wallet on the table momentarily. “What’s fine?”

“Me. Going home solo,” you replied. “But Amanda and Sonny think--”

“That you had too much to drink.” Sonny cut you off. “It’s not safe.”

“Sonny.” You pinched the bridge of your nose and you found yourself growing more impatient. “I am a big girl - I will send you a text when I get home.”

“Where’s home?” Rafael asked curiously. 

“Brooklyn.” Sonny and you replied at the same time.

“Sonny’s right - someone should take you home.” Rafael countered. 

“What if Barba takes you home?” Amanda asked, as she slipped her hat on. “Barba lives downtown - you don’t mind, do you counselor?”

“Not at all.” Rafael replied. “If that’s okay with Y/N.”

You sucked your bottom lip in. “Okay; Barba wins.”

“Great. Barba takes Y/N home and I’ll head up with Amanda,” Sonny declared.

**

The cab hadn’t even been going for ten minutes when Rafael found you asleep, resting your head on his shoulder. He didn’t want to move you - lest you lean on the glass and knock your head if the cab hit a pothole. He watched as the city blurred past him, a mix of lights and colors. You let out a small moan and snuggled closer to Rafael. Rafael threw his head back, resting against the headrest and let out a sigh.

The trip to Brooklyn was uneventful as there was little traffic and soon the cab pulled up outside the brownstone that was home to you. He nudged you softly, stirring you awake. 

“We’re at your place.” He murmured and you smiled sleepily at him.

“Walk me to my door?” You asked, stifling a small yawn. Rafael nodded and requested the cab to keep the meter running. You grabbed your keys to unlock the door and turned to face him. You thanked him for going out of his way to accompany you home and Rafael gave you a small nod, telling you it was no big deal - better to be safe. He licked his lips and you felt a rush of bravery course through you - you’d later realize that was the alcohol - and did what was, up until then, a figment of your imagination.

You curled your fingers into his hair, since he was sans beard, and pulled him in for a kiss. Rafael was initially taken aback, freezing in place, but then he deepened the kiss. You moaned into his mouth, which he took as an invitation to deepen the kiss and slide his tongue into your mouth.  His strong arms, closed around your back and pulled you tightly against him. You continued kissing for what seemed like eternity, but was only mere moments, when Rafael pulled away. 

“I’m sorry.” He blurted. “You’re drunk. You can’t consent. I should not have done that.” He took a step back, regret was etched on his face.

Your face burned with embarrassment. “It’s fine. I … should go. Good night, Rafael.” You mumbled before unlocking the door and darting inside, not bothering to look back. 

Rafael groaned, rubbing his hands with his face. It felt so wonderful to kiss you - but it was under all the wrong circumstances. He headed back to the cab and went home, replaying the kiss over and over in his mind, as if it were an endless loop. 

He knew what he had to do. 

Imagine your surprise when the following morning, when you headed into the office to put in some overtime, there was an email from one formerly disgraced ADA in your mailbox - asking you out for dinner.

You took a large drag of your coffee and then hit reply. 

TBC.

***

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[kindcolors]

HELLO under the cut is a thing I wrote of a preverbial Red Mesa radio ep, i had a lot of fun writing it so i hope y'all enjoy :]

CONRAD: If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, then it’s adapting. Welcome to Red Mesa.

Folks, I’d like to start by talking about that football game we played against the Stone Meadow Dove Mourners last week. In a 3 to 17 victory, the Red Mesa Carpenter Ants took themselves a pretty trophy! This makes their second win of the season; with a streak like this, we’ll see them headin’ off to the finals once again to fight for that championship title.

When asked about the team’s win, coach Fatima Hassan had this to say: “I can see every equation. It’s all showing, living, pulsing through my veins. We have to win. We have to.” After speaking with reporters, Hassan rose from her chair, walked to the window in her office, opened the window up, screamed, then sat back down. Well, Fatima, we’re rootin’ for you and all the Carpenter Ants playing in the season!

I think we oughta get into the news.

The Haunted Puppet Theater would like to deny reports that one of their puppets has escaped containment, and has been terrorizing citizens.

“All of our puppets are really cool,” said the theater’s director, George Tristan. “So, if one of our puppets did get out, it would be really chill, not attack people. Especially if the ghost inside the puppet was, theoretically, the ghost of a vigilante who was hung following a false arrest. That ghost would be really. Chill.” Tristan put a very heavy inflection on the word ‘chill.’

In unrelated news, the Red Mesa Court House was set on fire last night. Of course, it was very quickly handled, but the cells did see a great deal of damage. The verdict is still out on who started it, and there are currently no leads.

Citizens of Red Mesa, the bell has tolled, marking the beginning of the most harrowing time of the year: it’s Girl Scout cookies season. Through Red Mesa, they will create their strongholds in front of the doors of the buildings we use most. We will have no choice. We will buy cookies. We must buy cookies. I fear what will happen if we don’t give our patronage to that sisterhood of sash-clad warriors. All proceeds go to buyin’ the Girl Scouts better tents for their reconnaissance missions, so stop and buy a box from ‘em!

A new woman came into town today. Who is she? What does she want from us? Why her perfect and beautiful eyes? Why her perfect and beautiful blazer? She says she is a ufologist. Well…we ain’t we all been ufologists at one point or another in our lives? But why now? Why here? And just what does she plan to do with all them files and whiteboards in that office she’s renting – the one above Richard’s Sub Shop?

Someone’s always down at Richard’s. Someone.

Next, let’s look into that community calendar! On Monday, the Intergalactic Bank of Red Mesa is hostin’ a barbeque, which is open to Red Mesa residents and beyond. If you’re itchin’ for some BBQ, go on down. Tuesday, Eagle Eye Records is havin’ a flash sale. You just walk in, and the owner Mason Yang will randomly assign you a CD. You have no say. Wednesday ain’t real. Why would a day be named Wednesday? I think you just made that up. Thursday is the Red Mesa Elementary soup drive. Load up any cans that didn’t fit in your doomsday bunker and hand ‘em over to fill up the elementary school’s! Friday. Friday. Saturday is our weekly required town meeting. Meet on down in City Hall. Ugh, watch out, though, I heard Marvin Campbell was bringin’ donuts. Ugh, Marvin. Sunday is the Parade. What Parade? Those invited know, so don’t you worry too much about it.

And now, let’s get to that traffic. Above us right now, there is a craft. It is round, cast in a blueish metal unknown to anyone on earth. Within that craft are three beings. Martians? No. Plutonians? No, of course not. They hail from the Dogtooth galaxy, from a planet they’ve left years ago. Now, they settle on Earth, but are reluctant to call it home just yet. There is a pair of mothers and a son. The boy shuffles in his seat; he refuses to buckle his seat belt. Both mothers waiver in an attempt to talk to him, both worried about making a first move that will solidify them as the ‘bad cop’. Finally, the driver twists in her seat and points one of her three fingers at the boy.

‘Xeon,’ she says, in a language I can only translate back to you, as the original tongue would be garbled over our sound waves, ‘Buckle up, now.’ With a huff, their son does as told, and he is secured in with a click. The mothers look to one another. They are thankful and surprised that this went so smoothly.

This has been traffic.

That new ufologist, we now know is named ‘Claudette’. Saw her out on the town last night, in the Sunset to Noon Saloon. I was out at the bar, nursin’ a drink whose name I already forgot, as is customary in the saloon. She was at a table with her team, with five glasses surroundin’ her. With a shaky step, she lifted herself onto the table and threw a toast out to the crowd of people in the saloon. She said we was the most ‘ufo-logically’ interestin’ community in the whole U.S., then backtracked on account of her doubting ‘ufo-logically’ was a real word. In the end, she settled on tellin’ us ‘Aliens are really neat, and there are a lot here. I love it here.’ She drank her shot and smiled, and boy, it was perfect. I fell in love instantly.

The Red Mesa Soup Kitchen would like to remind y’all that it is accepting any volunteers who wish to come on over and help feed refugees of the Blood Space War. No knowledge of how to cook is required, only a big heart and a resistance to acid. If that sounds like you, the Soup Kitchen is open from 7 am to 7 pm on weekdays, and from 7 am to 9 pm on weekends.

Now, everybody, I’d like to implement a new kinda segment into the show. She’s still in her early stages, so let’s see about the first few editions and let her grow from there: It’s the Red Mesa Young Author’s Corner! We got a whole lotta bright kids here in ‘Mesa, and I thought it was time to finally give them a little spotlight. I’ll read off three snippets of writing sent in by Red Mesa Elementry Students. First, we have a piece by Melody Fisher, Age 5.

“Before anything, there was space. Before that, who knows. Space spans out so wide, who’s to say that it isn’t all that ever was? Space, it’s so terrifying, it’s swallowing me whole, this is all I will be. This is all I will be, and that is horrifying. How scary it is to be so young, and know so much already. Someone free me from this curse.” Well done, Miss Fisher! You’ve got a real talent here!

Next, is Newt Oswald, Age 4.

“I saw a bunny. He went hop. He said so little, I said a lot. I saw a bunny. He went hop.” Mr. Oswald, you got a real eye for poetry! Keep it up, kiddo.

And last but certainly not least, we got in a piece by Harrison Ripley, age 10! He’s my nephew, and not to spoil, but I’ve read some of his stuff, and it really is a treat! Let’s read:

“When the man sat down, he realized he left his hat in the car. All that walking, and for what? To abandon the most integral part of his ensemble in the passenger’s seat? He could never go back for it now, not with the rain beating against the awning’s roof. He’d have to make do with his outfit as is, but would Cynthia even hold her interest in him, knowing how forgetful he’d grown? Three dates of jokes about the infamous hat, and the night he promised to finally show it in person, it gets left in the car. What a fool he was. What a waste of a man.”

Oh, Harrison, you did so well! All of you kids did! This has been the Young Author’s Corner.

Now, while it’s on my mind, why don’t we take a look at The Weather?

A strange man has been spotted ‘round town. He is described as 7’4, and he wears a pure black suit and a pair of sunglasses. Now, don’t get him confused with the members of the Red Mesa Police, who all also wear black suits and sunglasses. No, our police are usually draggin’ away people who know a bit too much about what goes on in galaxies beyond here. This man has been spotted following people but saying nothing. He only watches. Be careful out there, Red Mesa.

Everybody, here's your fact of the day: Did you know you got bones? Do you know how many? Well, it’s at least 4. No, 5. Try and count! I promise you got more than 5! This has been the fact of the day.

Oh, before I forget, here’s a word for our sponsor: A lover’s kiss is a unique, certain kind of comfort. For people with no interest in romance, this same feeling comes from the comfort of friends, or pets, but it is the feeling of love all the same. A tender smile, the first meow of a kitten. Everything good about the world is held in the hope we find in others. Love is found through the ones you kiss at the end of a long day. Dr. Pepper, whether you find that feeling in the brush of lips against your forehead, or the bristle of fur against your cheek as you turn in for the night. It tastes like a kiss, except not.

Now, it’s time for another round of Q&A with Conrad! This is the time to send in questions to me or the station, and I’ll answer one of y’alls questions once a week here, live, on the radio! Here’s a question: Hey Conrad, you know the cave beside the CVS? What’s in there? For the last week or so, I’ve felt compelled to enter it by a low voice only I can hear. What’s up with that? Well, very interesting question! The only answer I got is: how did you know that. This is the fourth letter I’ve received today about that cave. Why must you find out things that need to stay unsolved? Why can’t you leave well enough alone? Stop. Writing. This. Station.

Thank you for your question! We’ll answer another lovely question this time next week!

Claudette came by the studio! Nestled in her arm was a chart, which she kept scribblin’ on with a pen. I couldn’t see what was on it, but I’m sure it was real important. She told me that since the radio tower was so tall, it was a real hotspot for UFO activity. She asked for access, and I led her out to see it. When she saw it, she asked me if it would be alright for her to climb on up. I had to tell her no; the idea of that made me too stressed. Oh, her face fell a bit, I could tell she was disappointed, everybody. It’s so hard to keep people happy while considerin’ their wellbeing, but Claudette didn’t let me stop her excitement. She scribbled down a whole page worth out there and thanked me for letting her observe. I touched her hand, and it was just as warm as I expected it to be. So, So warm.

Well Red Mesa, the red of our sky is dimming, which means that night is drawin’ close. As the show for today comes to an end, I leave you all with the hope that today was kind to you. I hope you were kind to yourself too; unnecessary self-hatred attracts wolves.

Goodnight, Red Mesa, Goodnight.

[cotncandyboifics]

A Lovely Night: Chapter 6

AO3 Link

Masterpost

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5

Pairing(s): pre-established roceit & prinxiety, anaroceit, eventual anaroloceit, eventual intruality

Word count: ~4k

Story summary: Roman's boyfriends had had a rivalry since before either of them had actually met Roman. Running a bit late to a date night, Roman accidentally gets them to start dating too.

General CW: non-detailed description of an anxiety attack, non-detailed description of physical pain, food, kissing, potentially triggering descriptions of physical bodies, swearing, caps lock, school settings, s-xual innuendos, slight description of gore(imagery), vague descriptions of anxiety, Implications of an eating disorder, fatigue, dissociation, suppression of stimming, implied heavy restriction (ED), inner monologue-style anxiety description, eating, (will be added to as I write more)

Chapter CW: Implications of an eating disorder, fatigue, dissociation, suppression of stimming, vague description of an anxiety attack, implied heavy restriction (ED), school setting, inner monologue-style anxiety description, food mention, eating, (let me know if i missed anything please!)

Author notes: <<>>

...

Logan did not know what to do with himself. The past week had thrown him off his figurative rhythm far more than he could have possibly anticipated.

First, a lead actor who he'd already been trying his best not to look at - with his accursed pretty hair and handsome face and big muscles - decided to attempt to court him? Logan felt mocked. There is no conceivable possibility that such a beautiful - and might he add, quite pompous and bothersome - man would have any sort of real interest in him, romantically or sexually. He shuddered slightly. He really should have taken the apple his roommate had offered him for breakfast that morning, but it was too late now.

And wouldn't you know, just a week later, a - dare he say - equally pretty man with mesmerizing blonde curls and a cheeky smile takes an interest in him at his own school . After years and years of having never been asked out, no one having taken an even remote interest in him, not one second glance, Logan had two men asking after him in the span of a single week. Men who he found atrociously gorgeous, in fact. Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, glasses riding up his forehead a bit.

This alone would have been enough. But he just had to go into that little sewing shop for his dear friend Patton's birthday present, and that boy with the purple bangs who stumbled over his words and his feet was completely and undeniably flustered by Logan's presence. Perhaps he was simply experiencing an ego boost from his two previous encounters that week with pretty men, but he felt that the attraction the boy seemed to have for him was unmistakable.

And now here he was, pacing down the sidewalk toward the library, headed off to meet - Janus, if he recalled correctly - for their first study session. He didn't know what the hell he'd been thinking when he asked to meet Janus again, the very next day no less... perhaps he felt the need to seize the moment while it was present, or however the saying goes. Regardless, while his actions had been quite uncharacteristically spontaneous, he saw no logical purpose in redacting his decision; Janus seemed to be an individual with plentiful intellect, and studying with fellow students had generally proved to be a beneficial tactic in Logan's (albeit minimal) experience and (far less minimal) research. Meeting with Janus, even if it wound up simply being this once, should be no different.

Logan avidly ignored any simmering feelings that he wanted something more than to spend time with Janus just this once.

He was shaken from his thoughts when his phone started ringing in his pocket. He examined the screen, noting the time - 2:49 PM, he wasn't late for his engagement with Janus just yet - as he checked who was calling. It was an unknown number, but the area code was local. Logan frowned, pressing the answer button.

"Greetings, Logan Lattimer speaking."

-

Virgil was kind of panicking.

His boyfriends each happened to meet this super-cute space-nerd guy in the span of a week, and the second they'd talked to him they were all heart-eyes. Not that Virgil was complaining; the guy sounded really cute.

He knew first hand now, that he was in fact super cute . That was the problem.

Virgil's lunch break came and went, most of which he spent gnawing vaguely at a sandwich and staring anxiously at the contact card that had been in Logan's wallet. It simply had his full name and phone number on it, nothing else. He tapped it on the desk in front of him, glancing between the numbers and his own phone, set face-up beside his elbow.

And then his lunch break had ended, and he had several more hours of worrying before he had to convince himself to call Logan.

Something occurred to him, during those hours. Should he tell his boyfriends?

What would he even say? There wasn't much to tell, at least not that warranted calling them before he got home. If he was going to make any calls, there was one he was under obligation to make first. And if he were to seek comfort in them for his obligation, what would they say?

Roman was probably the lesser option; he'd been whining about Logan all week, and now that he knew Janus was meeting with him again today, tensions were especially high. He'd be no help whatsoever, Virgil was sure of it.

And speaking of Janus meeting Logan again today... that also meant no. Calling your boyfriend who was about to see the guy you were nervous to call made the situation all kinds of awkward. No, everything would be easier if he'd simply call him.

So, shaking his shoulders out a bit, he did. He stepped into the break room, grabbed his phone and the contact card, and dialed the number.

His thumb hovered over the call button for a few seconds too long. He cursed under his breath and looked away as he pressed it, bringing the phone to his ear. it rang twice, and then a slight static preceded a familiar voice.

"Greetings, Logan Lattimer speaking."

Virgil was glad he'd drew in a breath to hold when he'd pressed the call button, because he wasn't sure he could recall how to breathe properly.

"Hey, this is Virgil, um, from the knitting supply shop? Uh, you kinda left your wallet here..." Virgil managed to cough, voice not breaking as much as it could have. His chest felt cold and constricted, and he wrapped one arm around himself to fight off the burn of the icy spears stabbing through his lungs.

"Ah, hello Virgil. I am currently on my way to a separate engagement, however it should not take long. At what time would it be acceptable for me to return to your place of business to retrieve my belongings?"

"Oh, uh- I'll be here till four," Virgil stuttered a bit, surprised at how fast Logan jumped to planning mode, as well as realizing he knew the precise nature of the so-called separate engagement Logan was about to attend.

"That is adequate. I will make sufficient efforts to arrive before that time. See you then."

With that, the line disconnected, and Virgil was overwhelmed by the eerie silence of the break room. He glanced at a half-empty box of donuts their manager had brought in yesterday.

He could have said that the shop actually closed at six, and that Logan could get his wallet from Emile, but his train of thought hadn’t been screwed on properly when he’d been speaking, so he could grant himself a little slack- wait, he was mixing his metaphors now...

Suddenly, the door swung open, Emile peeking out from behind it.

"Virgil, could you get back out here? We've got a little rush," and he ducked out, gone as quickly as he’d arrived.

Virgil sighed, shuddering away his anxieties, grabbing a donut hole and popping it into his mouth before heading out to join his colleague.

-

Janus was sitting at a table set between the rows of shelves, reading pensively beneath a subtle desk lamp where Logan found him. He glanced up and smiled gently when Logan arrived, who set his things down beside a chair opposite from Janus'.

"Apologies, Janus, but I must cut our studying session short in about 45 minutes - i left my wallet at a nearby shop this morning, and must retrieve it before 4pm." Janus' eyes sparked with something Logan couldn't place, and he hid a smirk behind steepled gloved fingers. Logan gulped imperceptibly. "Perhaps we can set up another time to study as well- um, to make up for it, I mean?" He rushed his words out in a short breath, running his fingers through his hair to collect himself. Janus' smirk broadened very slightly, and Logan found himself watching the lines of Janus’ face as they shifted.

"It would be my pleasure." Janus averted his eyes for a moment, eyebrows furrowing slightly as he thought. “Perhaps we should exchange information, so that I might- so that we can settle on a proper time for another engagement.” Janus reached into his inner coat pocket, producing his phone and tapping away for a moment, before passing it to Logan. He took it carefully, recognizing a blank contact screen, and quickly entering his information into it. He handed the phone back to Janus with a tight smile, and Janus returned it, sliding his phone back into the same pocket before resettling himself in his seat more properly.

Janus set aside his book to pull out a few textbooks for their critical thinking class. "If we are cutting our study session that precisely short, that would provide me with a chance to surprise-" He faltered for a moment, tone changing, though it was so subtle Logan almost thought he'd imagined it - "a friend of mine after his shift. Now, where did your class get to in the lecture today?" He started thumbing through the pages of a particularly thick but small book, holding it by the spine with one hand.

"Ah... Professor Cauley was stopped short on page 461 when he became distracted with his electric pencil sharpener malfunctioning, and class ended a few moments later. He did inform us that the other class had made it to page 465, so if you need me to catch up to you, it should only take me a few minutes." Logan was rifling through the pages of his textbook intently, not noticing Janus' surprised expression.

Janus reached a hand out, cautiously setting his hand on Logan's wrist, just beneath his wristwatch. "Don't fret," he breathed, "it appears we share the same class period. If I recall correctly, Professor Cauley’s face went positively red with rage, and he nearly broke the poor sharpener worse as he tried to unjam it." Janus chuckled shyly through his words as Logan met his eyes, smiling after a moment.

“Fascinating. I wonder how I have not noticed you in class before?” Logan tilted his head very slightly, and noticed something swimming warmly in Janus’ eyes. They were quite a very lovely golden brown, he thought.

Janus shifted, looking down to adjust his own texts, but the smirk that was growing less snarky by the second never left his lips. “It is a rather large class. It can be easy to lose faces in the crowd. I’m not sure I can pick out more than three people with whom I share that  class if they were to pass me in the halls. But no matter.” Janus glanced at Logan’s textbook and notes, readying his pencil. “Shall we begin?”

-

Logan was talking animatedly as he hunched himself over his notes, Janus glancing up to watch his face behind its shield of deep brown bangs intermittently as he scribbled in his own notebook to (at least attempt to) keep up. Janus’ gaze was averted, however, when a repetitive chime sounded from Logan’s phone, sitting face down on the desk just beside his right forearm. He stopped mid-sentence, adjusting his posture and picking his phone up, flipping it over to view the screen. He sighed, deflating slightly, as he tapped the screen once, setting the phone back down.

“My apologies, Janus, but it appears that it is time for me to depart.” Logan stood, a colder, sharper version of himself taking the place of the one that holds a deep passion for learning. The beautiful ice crystal, despite its beauty, is still the twin of the icy shards that cut sharper than knives or spears, Janus thought.

Janus stood swiftly, joining Logan in his gathering of his personal belongings, shoveling his own texts into his own bag. “It is quite alright, I assure you, Logan.” They met eyes as Janus spoke Logan’s name, and Janus could swear he saw a subtle, blotchy pink settle in Logan’s cheeks. “I’ll be headed down Main Street, then. Perhaps-” Logan cleared his throat, glaring down and to the side at nothing in particular as he retried his statement. “I will be expecting to hear from you, Janus.” They walked side by side out the front of the library, stopping just past the doors to say their goodbyes. But Janus had a small realization, and felt the creeping suspicion crawling its way up his sides returning. He resisted the urge to shake or twitch it away, grinding his teeth a bit.

Instead of continuing to suppress his stimming, he cleared his throat, speaking to Logan. "I am headed down Main Street as well. I hope it is not out of- I hope that it isn’t inappropriate for me to ask, but...will you allow me to accompany you?" Janus asked, nearly moving to offer his arm to Logan, but deciding quickly that that was far too forward. He settled on spreading an arm out, gesturing to the concrete path before them that led to the sidewalk.

Logan offered a small smile. "That would be adequate, and not inappropriate in the slightest. I, I would enjoy your company.” A beat of silence, and Logan cleared his throat. “Just this way," and Logan set off, at an impressively brisk pace that Janus nearly had a hard time keeping up with, having been caught off guard.

They walked in stride with one another as they made their way down the street. Janus became increasingly suspicious of the scenario the closer they got to the sewing shop. From what he knew of Logan's situation, there was no conflicting evidence that would disqualify the possibility that Logan was headed, in fact, toward Virgil's workplace. Janus held his breath when they turned onto the very same block, watching Logan's body language soften as they did.

Janus took a deep breath, glancing at the sign of the sewing shop a pace or two ahead.

"Logan, there's something I wish to discuss with-"

Janus glanced at the sewing shop's sign once more as they passed, but didn't move to stop before the door until he realized Logan had done so, standing a bit stiff a few paces back.

"This would be the establishment I spoke of," Logan's eyes looked a bit hazed, vaguely pointed towards the door handle. He seemed not to have heard Janus’ beginnings of a confession. Janus’ eyebrow quirked ever so slightly.

"Interesting," he breathed quietly, and Logan met his eyes then. "Allow me." Janus reached a gloved hand out to open the door for Logan, bowing slightly as he held it open.

"Much appreciated," Logan commented, stepping through the doorway smoothly.

-

Virgil was sitting slouched behind the counter, typing random numbers into the cash register out of boredom. He was half considering going to bother Emile, but he was busy doing inventory. And besides, Virgil needed to stay behind the register in case any customers came in. One person behind the counter at all times, that was the rule. He sighed, bringing his hand to his face and tapping on the tip of his nose absentmindedly.

The bell chimed, and Virgil looked up from behind his mop of purple hair. His heart gave a few beats a bit harder than usual, and he felt his throat constrict slightly.

There was Logan again. And the whole rest of the world became background noise.

The line of Logan's mouth widened, creating a crease or two on each side. Virgil realized that not only was he staring at Logan's lips, but as well that Logan was smiling. At him.

"Hello, Virgil," He spoke softly.

"Hi," Virgil practically coughed, the scratch in his throat making it borderline painful to speak. "H-how was your, your day?" Virgil asked, pursing his lips as soon as his words had left them.

Logan inhaled, raising his eyebrows and averting his eyes from Virgil's intense brown ones. "It has been satisfactory." The door chimed again behind Logan as it shut, and Virgil suddenly recognized that there was another person in the room. A person whose presence felt immediately familiar...

"Ah, my apologies," Logan stepped to the side slightly, allowing the person to come into full view. There, with a small sheepish smile, stood Janus. "Allow me to introduce-"

"Logan, dear, that won't be necessary," Janus rested a gentle gloved hand on Logan's shoulder, and Virgil couldn't tell if he was about to pass out from gay panic or just regular panic. "We are... quite well acquainted." Janus smiled tenderly to Virgil, and Virgil's whirring brain slowed if only slightly. He was safe.

…but… was he though?

-

"Oh, is this the friend you spoke of earlier, whom you meant to come and meet? How coincidental, that we were on our way to meet the same person without either of us having any prior knowledge of it." Logan was caught up in his fascination so much that he did not notice Virgil beginning to hyperventilate, knuckles white as he gripped the counter, or the way Janus was watching, practically frozen.

But, as Logan's commentary came to a close, it was as though a flip switched inside Janus’ mind, and he quickly strode around Logan. He stepped quickly behind the counter and over to Virgil, all while nearly whispering little nothings like "oh oh oh," "hush now love," and "come here dear."

Logan's brain took a moment to catch up, and soon he was simply standing there, watching as Virgil clung to Janus' coat rather desperately. Virgil’s body shuddered in silent sobs as Janus wrapped his arms around him, tight and secure. Janus was still whispering to him, but it was inaudible to Logan now.

Logan didn't quite know what to do, and so he just stood there, feeling rather stuck for a long time. At some point, he set his backpack and the gift bag he'd gotten from this very store earlier that day down against the counter on the floor, folding his hands before him. At some point, he registered Janus giving him an apologetic look, which confused him.

And then Janus kissed Virgil on the forehead, pulling back slightly to look him in the eyes. Logan thought from the way Janus was nodding softly and the way their chests moved together, that they may be doing a breathing exercise. He couldn't focus on much else, so he tried to follow along and copy them as well. 4, 7, 8. 4, 7, 8.

Sooner than later, Janus was leading Virgil carefully back out around the counter, both looking slightly worse for wear, but at least Virgil was far calmer. Janus smiled meekly at Logan again, and he still couldn't quite understand what was happening. It appeared that Virgil had had an anxiety attack, but the way Janus had rushed to comfort him so quickly, the way he seemed to know exactly what to do-

"Here you go, Logan," Virgil's voice was a bit scratchy as he reached out his hand, Logan's familiar black leather wallet between his pale fingers. Logan cleared his throat.

"Thank you," He spoke a bit more quietly than he meant to. He suddenly felt his headache flare again in full force, and had to fight not to shake as he reached his hand out to retrieve his wallet from Virgil's hands. He barely succeeded, but Virgil seemed to notice something amiss - he was watching Logan's wary eyes with some mix of suspicion and concern.

Janus, however, had been staring at the floor, and did not notice Logan's onset of fatigue. He sighed, clearing his throat softly. "Logan, I suppose you deserve some kind of explanation. One I tried to give before we’d come in, but regardless." Suddenly Virgil's eyes were on Janus, and far wider than Logan thought possible. Janus just glanced at him, nodding gently, and Virgil's shoulders visibly relaxed. "Virgil and I are..."

Janus laced their fingers together, and Logan's vision went blurry, everything around him fading to static fuzz as he tried to remember to breathe. He'd eaten more than enough today for this to be happening, surely? ...Had he eaten today? He couldn’t recall. He could always remember ... He vaguely registered Janus still speaking in the background, but he couldn't care enough to force himself to refocus. He got the jist. He and Virgil were romantically involved, and Janus was interested in nothing more than a friendship with Logan. That was perfectly fine. He didn't mind. He forced away the roiling feeling in his gut and gulped down the sting starting to tingle in his eyes, forcing himself to nod.

"Understood," He blurted, voice a bit raspy. He turned toward the door, reaching for the handle. Before he fully exited, he threw over his shoulder, "I look forward to seeing you later this week, Janus. And thank you again, Virgil." And with that, he was gone.

He made his way down the block briskly, trying to shake the haze that clouded his vision. The only thing he could think to do was go and see Patton. He knew nothing worked magic on his body like a good black coffee.

-

"Virgil and I are..." Virgil looked down as Janus laced their fingers together, and looked back to Logan, whose face seemed to have gone paler than it normally was, which was quite horrifying to see. Considering Logan was already so white that his skin tone bordered on inhuman, now it was devoid of any pricks of red coloring and looked almost like an empty tinted gray, pronouncing his cheekbones and eye bags even more so. Janus looked between them, continuing after a moment, "...we have been romantically involved for several years now, and even longer with our partner Roman, who you may recall from the community theatre? He's expressed to us that he's quite taken with you, in fact... And I know this may be a lot to spring on you right now, but I thought you deserved to know... it felt wrong to pursue anything with you romantically when we- when you didn't have the facts straight, and even regardless, it's important for you to know that all three of us are-"

"Understood," Logan cut Janus off, nodding. He didn't speak harshly, in fact his voice was quite quiet, but it was curt and forward as Logan always was, and so cut through Janus' words like a frozen blade.

Janus looked at him in awe, and opened his mouth to speak, but Virgil gripped his arm before he did. Logan was already at the door. He glanced over his shoulder, but didn’t really look at either of them. "I look forward to seeing you later this week, Janus. And thank you again, Virgil." Janus and Virgil watched as Logan walked out the door and straight down the sidewalk through the shop window.

Emile, who apparently had been standing there for at least a few moments, cleared his throat awkwardly. Janus and Virgil looked at him in unison, matching exasperated looks on their faces.

"U-um, Virgil, I was just gonna check in, see if you've clocked off." Emile wrung his wrists between his fingers awkwardly.

"Um, no not yet," Virgil bit the corner of his lip, muttering a 'sorry' as he stepped past Emile and paced quickly to the back room to clock off. Janus stared blankly at the floor where his boyfriend had just been, eyebrows knit in thought.

"You feeling a-okay there, Janus?" Emile dipped his head a bit to get Janus' attention gently. Janus blinked a few times, engaging with Emile as he re-centered himself in the present moment.

"Yes, Emile, I'm fine, thank you," Janus rubbed his gloved palm with his thumb anxiously. He couldn't think of anything to add, so Emile smiled carefully, nodding and stepping away to resume whatever busywork he needed to attend to.

Virgil was back again shortly, his backpack slung over his shoulder. He gave Janus a strange look, some kind of combination of pity and sadness and confusion. At least, that's how it looked to Janus.

"Ready to...?" Virgil gestured vaguely towards the door, leaning into Janus' personal space a bit. Janus offered him his arm, clearing his throat and holding his chin high.

"Yes, love. Let's get home to Roman."

As they walked to the bus stop together, neither had any clue what they’d say to their Prince. He’d be distraught, they were both sure, and significantly more so than he already was, which would be… intense. Janus squeezed Virgil’s hand in his own slightly, and smiled somberly at him sideways.

They’d figure this out. They always did, eventually.

Janus took his time on the bus typing out a message to Logan, Virgil watching from the seat beside him as his head laid on Janus’ shoulder. Janus settled on something simple.

To: Logan L It's Janus. I'd love to meet up to study, or perhaps discuss other things, some time this week. Let me know if Thursday or Friday works better for you.

[newathens]

in honor of everything that happened on aug 18th the good and the bad here is a scene from secrets that has been collecting dust for a year and may never get its moment but it is where luke castellan gets a chance to speak and it deserves to b seen at least once

LUKE:

     Fresh donuts sat up on the counter, the sweet smell of frosting wafting through the space. The place was warm; their air conditioner busted. It was a random Wednesday at eleven in the morning so there weren’t many bystanders, though the few that were around kept stealing glances towards me. A mother lost in thought touched her cheek and when she caught me looking back, ducked her head. I kept tapping the tabletop with my knuckles, wondering how hard I’d have to whine to get the waitress to give me a chocolate glaze. She’d already passed by three times out of worry.

     The shining, silver bell shook and rang as the diner door opened. 

     He stood in the entryway for a long moment, taking in the length of the diner. It took him two tries to notice me, but when he did, the neutral expression he’d worn shifted into a deep frown. He approached the booth slowly and held my gaze all the while.

    “Not funny,” Hermes said. I smiled with all the gusto of a fourteen-year-old.

    “Sorry,” I said, voice dropping several octaves as I aged ten years. “I couldn’t help myself. Too soon?” He took a seat without another word. Blonde hair, blue eyes—nothing much had changed; in fact, there wasn’t a trace of greying hair to be found. He seemed fit, youthful. “I thought we’d leave some mark on your complexions.” He gave a tight smile and said nothing, but in the silence I noticed it. An airy presence, circling around me much like the scent of the pastries. It wasn’t threatening, just curious, like a snake amongst the forest floor.

     He was checking me.

     I did the same to him and watched, rather gleefully, as his eyes widened in recognition. It felt strange, kind of annoying. Is this how gods’ felt? Striped raw, bodies vibrating like giant batteries next to one another?

       His search turned up short, but mine didn’t.

      “Jean pocket, out with it.”

      He sighed and placed a gold iPhone in the middle of the table. The caduceus shimmered on its back. 

     Oh, look who it is! Martha said.

     “Nice to see you,” I said.

     I didn’t say this was nice!

      “And you too, George.”

     Hey, Luke, he said, if you take over his position, will you get to keep us?

     “I’d hope so, you two are a riot.”

     “Comical,” Hermes said. “Both of you keep quiet.” We looked at each other again, ready to speak but unsure how to start. The waitress beat us to it.

     “How can I—oh!” She nearly snapped her pencil in half. Her eyes were wide on me, then on the next booth over, then to the other side of the diner. “Wasn’t there, I mean, there was a child—”

       “Can I have three of those delicious looking donuts, miss?” I asked. The waitress bit her lip absentmindedly.

        “Sure thing,” she said, “And you?”

        “Nothing,” Hermes said, then his eyes glowed. “Thank you, and apologies.” The waitress stared blankly, then walked off without another word. The donuts from the counter disappeared and reappeared at our table. 

      “Thanks,” I said.

      He let out a tired breath, “Lukas—”

      “Yes, father?”

     His expression soured, wind rattled the windows, but then it softened, his eyes shut. I stared at the caduceus, quiet now. He sat back in his seat, placed a steady hand on the wood, and stared out towards the street. Towards the shops and sidewalks familiar to us both.

     “We’re here to talk, correct?”

     “Yes.”

     “Then explain.”

.

     Hermes had the bridge of his nose pinched between two fingers, eyes closed. As the silence stretched on, the conversation played over in my head. Again and again and again. The whole time he barely said a word, not unlike him. . .but not all that comforting. The diner was empty now, though I hadn’t realized when it happened. No weapons, those were the terms, but it would be a lie to say that my palm wasn’t itching to call Backbiter to it. Martha and George slithered around the staff mimicking some sort of animated phone case.

     I should run.

     He stood without warning. I followed.

    “Let’s go for a walk,” he turned and left. Again, I followed.

     Late summer heat wrapped around us like a blanket as we exited into midday. The area was lively, busy shoppers and cyclists, joggers and freshly-washed cars. Sun shone down heavy on their exteriors and I squinted against the glint. It was way too bright—

     “There’s no one here,” he said. I turned. He was waiting on the sidewalk, body facing north, towards the path that would take you further inland. Away from the main strip, closer to the suburbs. “Just you and me.”

     “Right,” I said and shoved both hands deep into their pockets. I knew where we were going.

     Higher up the heat wasn’t as oppressive. Hot winds blew now and then, rustling dry leaves and pushing the scent of saltwater up from the bay. I breathed deeply out of reflex. We walked in silence. I kept our strides in rhythm. That was until I saw it.

     The beat-up white house with green hinges that had fallen into disrepair from neglect and misfortune was almost unrecognizable. A new coat of paint covered the siding, the chipping front door had been replaced, and curtains blew out of wide open windows. A lush, green lawn surrounded the property, split in half by a clean walkway bracketed with a rainbow of flowers. There wasn’t a single discolored, mildewed, decaying stuffed monster to be found. I jogged forward in spite of myself.

     “What did you. . .” I turned back. Hermes had slowed, taking in the scene much the same as I. He looked at me. “What did you do?”

     “Luke, this isn’t,” he stared at the house and his face twisted, “I haven’t done anything.”

     I swallowed a dry mouth and ran up the walkway, all caution lost to the innate yet unearned fear for a loved one. The door rattled under my fist as I knocked repeatedly, frantically. Hermes took his place on the tiny porch beside me.

     “Hello,” I shouted. “Hello, is anyone home? Hello!”

     “Coming! Just a moment,” a gentle voice rose from the depths of the house and a few moments later, a woman opened the door. Blonde hair, not frizzed, interrupted by streaks of gray. Green eyes; forest green, not neon. Healthy skin, not sickly. A warm smile that only grew wider as she took us in.

     “Mom.”

     “Luke,” she said and pulled me in to press a kiss to my forehead. I went as rigid as ice; she didn’t notice. “And look at you,” she said to Hermes, who hid his shock well. He had a smile on, pressed a kiss to her cheek, but I could tell somehow, that he was as clueless as I.

     The spell.

     “Come on you two,” she ushered inside. “I’m baking.”

     “Cookies?” I guessed. It was the wrong thing to say. She stopped midstep, hand on the doorknob, and stared at me. Both eyes open, mouth in a frown. For a moment, nothing happened. Then she blinked and shook her head, as if pushing away a stupor. 

     “No, pie. Do you like cookies?” She led us into the house. It was quiet, a television played low in the front room. Varied, jewel hues covered the walls, hiding the dirty eggshell they used to be. Tarps covered some furniture, though they were clearly being used. The wood floors shined from a polishing. The entire space smelled of pastry. Hermes followed faster than I. “Luke,” she called. She was leaning out the kitchen archway. “Lemonade?”

      “Sure,” I said but couldn’t move. Then Hermes called my name and I scoffed. 

      The kitchen was different too. All the grime had disappeared. All the appliances updated. The old, retro table had been replaced with a long wooden piece, and on top of it, were strawberries. Buckets and buckets of strawberries, contained in plastic, straw, wicker; anything that would hold them. The sweet scent was nearly overpowering here. My mom held out a full glass and brought my hand to it to make sure it didn’t drop.

     “Strawberries?” I asked.

     She looked at the table, “Oh! Yes, I’ve grown quite an affinity for them,” she shrugged. “Not sure why but. . . they’re pretty aren’t they?” A beep sounded.

     “May,” Hermes said as she pulled a tray from the oven. She looked over her shoulder. 

     “Yes?” 

     “May, are you alright?”

     My mother smiled—with a gorgeous set of pearly whites. Not possible, her teeth had yellowed and rotted years ago. “Of course, I am. It’s a beautiful day and I have two of my favorite people right in front of me.”

     “May,” Hermes said a third time, this one pained. I realized where I felt confusion, he felt hurt. My mother noticed. Her smile dropped and her eyes along with it. “May, the last time I saw you. . .it didn’t look like this.”

     She placed the tray on the stove and took a heavy seat at the table. The towering strawberries seemed to suffocate her figure. “I was very different, wasn’t I? But I don’t like to think about it. Why not have some pie and then you can go? I don’t expect you to stay very long.” She looked at both of us. “You never can.”

    Hermes huffed in misery. He came to sit by her side. I felt like I was watching a television show. This couldn’t be mine, this couldn’t be my parents. 

    He took her hand, “I don’t mean to put you through pain but I’m a little shocked. Your condition. . . wasn’t exactly fixable. I’d like to know what happened.”

    “I don’t know,” she shrugged. “About a year ago, I woke up. . .at least it felt like that. The presence of that thing disappeared, mostly. I could think straight again. I started cleaning up, there wasn’t anything else to do. The calendar on the wall was from the nineties. Found out someone had been paying the bills all this time,” she touched Hermes cheek and he smiled. “One morning I started working on the lawn. . .” she gave a sad, little laugh. “Apparently, I’d gained a reputation. The neighbors were so worried they tried to take the shears out of my hands, but once they realized. . .they helped me. People helped me fix up the house, gave me food, took me to the dentist, taught me how to use these new phones. They were so kind,” she sniffled. “I really didn’t deserve that much kindness.”

     “Of course you do,” Hermes said but she lifted her head towards me.

     “I don’t remember much. I get glimpses, pains even. But what I can recall, none of it is good. The memories. . .and the visions. Luke, honey, I’m so sorry.” The air was so thick I could’ve cut through it with Backbiter. I scuffed my boot against the linoleum. Silence snaked its way through the kitchen, like Martha and Geroge slithered on that phone.

    “There’s nothing to apologize for, Mom,” I said finally.

     “But there is,” she tried. “All that happened, the things I did, and then I just let you—”

     “There’s nothing you have to apologize for,” I said and the air shifted from thick to frigid. Hermes’ jaw tightened, but he didn’t move his gaze from my mother. Whatever. “So did you chuck all my old stuff? Not that it matters, I’m a little too old for Power Ranger pajamas.”

      My mother wiped at her eyes, “Oh no, I haven’t touched your room. Go take a look, it’s all there.”

.

     The tiny, off-white carpeted room with one square window was exactly how I’d left it a long, long time ago. The bureau had one drawer open. Angry crayon marks covered a low corner of the wall. The small, twin bed was made, but wrinkled. I walked up to it and ran a hand across the blanket. 

     I had the sudden urge to stay.

    It hit me like a brick to the solar plexus, knocking the wind from my lungs. Anger followed soon after. What are you thinking? I thought to myself.

    You could go to college.

    You lost your right to a future.

    You don’t get to leave, Annabeth’s voice echoed.

    Through the window I could see the road; children playing across the street; a man starting up a lawn mower. It felt surreal, freakishly abnormal.

    Maybe this was a type of punishment.

    “What are you thinking?” Hermes asked. I hadn’t heard him enter.

    “I’m thinking I’m too big for this bed,” I said and turned towards him, hands in pockets. His cadecaus was out now. The snakes slithered the length of it, restless. “Not that it matters.”