#there will be other fics where apollo is swearing at people all the time

[wowowwild]

Devastating: Can't call Mikeko a bastard in a T rated fic.

[breadbrobin]

Hi idk if you’re taking reqs but I’ve been reading your posts about Luke Castellan a lot and I think I’m getting obsessed- So could you make a fic/shot about a Luke Castellan x daughter of Apollo reader where they’ve known each other since childhood and they’re kind of like frenemies (friends and/or enemies) and one day he ends up getting badly injured after a quest so she has to take care of him in the infirmary for a week, but ever since that happened he’s been trying to get injured just to go and see reader at the infirmary again?

Sorry if that wasn’t clear, and this is kinda inspired from another fic you made about Luke and daughter of Apollo:)

But if you ever make something like this I would really appreciate it if you tagged me!

two hearts

luke castellan x reader — percy jackson and the olympians

[fem!daughter of apollo reader]

summary: (as above)

warnings: canon typical mentions of violence, kissing, flirting, a couple of swear words, blood, idiots to lovers a lil bit too (can you tell it’s my favourite thing)

word count: 3.5k

(hiiii hello hi!! sorry this took me so long to get out, but here it is!! thank you so much for the request i had a lot of fun with this one (3.5k words of fun apparently). hope you enjoy it!)

———————————————

if someone had told you luke castellan was going to be gone on a quest when you arrived at camp for the summer, you wouldn’t have spent the whole drive to camp preparing to deal with his annoying ass.

you hiked up half-blood hill and over the boundary, noticing the distinct tension in the atmosphere. something was off.

when luke hadn’t come to see you as you dropped your bags off in the apollo cabin, or when you stopped into the infirmary, or even when you walked past the hermes cabin, you were clued in that something was up.

“where’s luke?” you asked chiron curiously.

“he is on a quest, child. sent by his father,” he smiled down at you warmly. “do not worry about him.”

“i’m not worried,” you bit your lip. “just curious. that’s all.”

and that was that.

it was weirdly boring being at camp without luke’s constant snarky comments. ever since you’d both gotten to camp when you were younger, he’d been a persistent thorn in your side. maybe it was because you both were new around the same time, or because you didn’t like it when he hovered around the infirmary, poking his quick fingers into buckets of bandages and medications. whatever it was, he seemed to enjoy irritating you. and you apparently enjoyed it more than you thought.

monotonous days: breakfast, archery, infirmary, training, activities, dinner, bed.

sleepless nights: nightmares of quests and dragons and a bright white scar.

you sighed one night, waking up from yet another dream of flashes and brief images. your siblings were sleeping around you, a couple of them snoring, and you sat up.

the air on the porch was cooler that night, especially for summer time. you wrapped your sweatshirt a little tighter around yourself and leaned on the porch railing, peering out into the darkness. you just needed a minute, really. you sat down on a chair and relaxed.

you woke up abruptly.

at first, you were confused as to why.

then you saw the figure on the hill.

it was a camper. the hint of orange in the full-moon light told you that much. they were stumbling down—no, they were rolling now.

you stood up and dashed back into your cabin, grabbing your to-go first aid kit. you then turned and ran towards the obviously injured figure. there were only three people it could be. and where were the other two?

you reached them quickly, dropping to your knees beside them and rolling them over.

luke.

it was luke.

the air rushed from your lungs. he was here. he was back. he was alive. you’d never felt such an overwhelming emotion before. it drew slight stinging tears to your eyes.

his eyes were barely open but he gripped your arm with a strength you didn’t think his weak body could still possess. “y/n?”

“just hold on, luke,” you whispered. there were injuries all over his body. you hardly knew where to start. “just hold on.”

“they’re gone,” he said absently.

you looked at him, but didn’t stop trying to help. “who’s gone?”

“everyone,” he stared up at the moon.

you bit your cheek and looked over your shoulder. one of your brothers had gone on that quest with him. “wake up!” you shouted. “someone come help!” you turned back to luke. “okay, luke. you’re gonna be okay.”

his cheeks were hollow. it was then that you noticed the way his eye was swollen closed and a dark red angry cut traced its way down the side of his face. you gasped and turned his head gently to see it better.

“not looking good, huh?” he murmured bitterly. “guess i won’t be getting any modelling contracts soon.”

“we’ll see about that,” you muttered. “stay awake, yeah?”

“you’re not the boss of me,” he grumbled, but kept his eyes open as help finally arrived to get him to the infirmary.

he’d had more injuries than you’d originally thought. it was like he’d been attacked by half of the monsters in greek mythology, honestly, based on the peppered burn holes in his shirt, the cuts and scrapes on his arms and knees and the gashes littering his abdomen. oh, and not to mention the gaping spear wound in his right shoulder.

after working all night with some of your siblings and chiron in the infirmary, he was finally stable. finally, he’d be okay.

you volunteered to stay with him to keep an eye on him for the first few hours, though your eyelids were drooping with sleep.

you held his hand. it felt like the right thing to do.

he didn’t stir.

it was strange, being around him without him talking. since you were fourteen, he’d rarely managed to shut up around you. incessant talking and waving his hands around, explaining some new thing he learned in sword fighting or some joke one of his brothers made. it was both infuriating and entertaining. you loved and hated it, just like you loved and hated him.

sitting in silence with luke castellan felt like the world was turning on its head.

a couple of hours passed. you didn’t let go of his hand. not even as you slipped into a dream—a memory, really.

you were fifteen, and it was raining. it had only been a few months since you got to camp. things were still fresh and somewhat unknown. what you did know, though, was you could never get a moments peace anymore.

“y/n?”

you rolled your eyes. of course it was luke. “what?”

“where are you?”

you supposed you were hidden pretty well. sitting among the reeds at the bottom of the lake was one of your favourite places to be. it was cooler there, but even in winter it wasn’t cold. your feet could sit in the water if you wanted them to and the reeds blocked you from the wind and outside attention.

when you didn’t respond, you could hear him coming closer anyway.

“that’s fine, don’t tell me. i’ll find you anyway.”

and he did. he always did.

there was some theory about that, you realised as he sat beside you, the tiny space between the reeds barely big enough to hold both of you. some theory about a string of fate tying people together. some greek myth about people originally having four arms, four legs and two hearts, and when zeus split them down the middle, those people spent the rest of their lives searching for their other halves. drawn together by fate and reconnected always. you arm was pressed against his arm and your leg against his leg, and maybe it felt so right because you were cold and he was warm. not because of some silly soulmate theory that didn’t even make sense. because there was also the idea that maybe he’d put a tracker on you, but you had no idea where he would have gotten that. or maybe you were just bad at hiding.

“i’ve been looking for you,” he said.

you tilted your head in confusion. “what? why?”

“well,” were you mistaken, or were his cheeks kind of red? “i kinda hurt myself at training today. and the people in the infirmary told me to grow up and get over it. but honestly, it really hurts and i just wanted to know if you could heal it.”

you rolled your eyes. “always needing something, huh, castellan? is it so much to ask for you to just want to see me?” you hold your hand out and he extends his sword arm, revealing the cross-muscle cut on his forearm.

“i do want to see you,” he protested. “honestly. it’s not my fault that i’m also coincidentally injured whenever i want to see you.”

you couldn’t stay mad at that smile. “coincidentally, huh?” you handed him a small section of ambrosia from your pocket as your fingers ran over the cut, whispering a prayer to your father. you watched as the skin knit itself closed again, leaving not even a scar on his arm. you pulled back with a smile. “there. done. good as new.”

“thanks, doctor. don’t know what i’d do without you.”

“die a horrible death and be left permanently disfigured? to the point where we’d do a closed casket funeral just so we don’t have to look at your ugly face?” you tilted your head with a teasing smile.

he elbowed you. “shut up, loser. you know you love my face.”

and as you woke up, feeling his hand tighten around yours, you realised you kind of did. there was gauze over the cut on his eye and cheek, covering half of his face. and yet, he was still annoyingly beautiful.

“something on my face?” he mumbled as he saw looking, finally awake. “except for this thing, of course.” he gestured to the gauze.

you smiled wanly. “i’m glad you’re awake.”

“missed me?” he half-grinned.

you snort and drop his hand, patting the back of it and standing up to check his bandages. “you wish.”

he was silent as you checked his bandages and reapplied the few that were loosening. then, as you left to go and get the next person to keep an eye on him, he spoke up. “i missed you.”

you paused in the doorway, a small smile growing on your face. you looked back at him. his eyes were earnest and soft. he looked younger like this. “i’ll be back a few hours. we’ll have dinner together.”

you did have dinner together. in fact, you had almost every meal together for the first few days.

it was quiet, mostly. you didn’t ask him what happened and he didn’t tell you. you knew he’d already been interrogated by everyone else. he didn’t need that from you.

annabeth came and joined you a couple of times, chatting about some new architectural design she’d learned about or a new move she’d learned in training.

you realised how alike they were. family in every way that mattered, regardless of blood.

it didn’t take long for luke to start getting annoying again though.

once he’d been in the infirmary for four days, he regained most of his usual personality. and that meant bad jokes, incessant talking and poorly-timed, half-hearted flirting.

“the sun makes your eyes glow,” he said one day. he’d never had much of a filter, so it wasn’t too out of the blue, but it still caught you a little of guard.

you fumbled the supplies in your hand. “sorry, what?”

he was sitting up on his bed now. his wounds were almost healed. two more days and he’d be out of the infirmary. you didn’t know if you were one hundred per cent happy about that.

“your eyes. they glow in the sun.” he repeated.

you paused, glancing over at him. “thank you…?”

he nodded and leaned back, his eyes staying on you.

that was only the beginning.

within five hours he’d complimented your eyes, your skills, your smile and your kindness. multiple times. it got the point where the other two patients in the infirmary had stopped taking you seriously, just complimenting you instead. that’s where you drew the line.

“okay, luke, you need to stop. this is too much,” you said. you were checking his remaining wounds and nodding happily at them.

“what, am i flustering you? are you blushing?” he teased.

you were not blushing at all, you decided. whether it was strictly true or not was between your brain and your cheeks, not your honesty. “you’re annoying me,” you grumbled. “like, a lot.”

“you know you’ll miss me when i go back to my cabin,” he leaned back on his pillows, a smirk on his lips. it warped the scar on his cheek more than you expected, and it made your heart clench every time.

“if i miss you, you have permission to annoy me for the rest of my life,” you grumbled. you definitely wouldn’t miss this.

finally, he was out of the infirmary.

finally, you could work in peace.

finally, you could— oh, what the hell?

“good morning!” luke said as he waltzed into the infirmary. “i’ve injured myself.”

you looked him up and down as you walked closer. “you look fine to me. what did you do?”

“i fell of the rock climbing wall and hit my head.” he turned his head to show you the small trickle of blood above his ear.

you sighed and led him to a bed. you handed him ambrosia as you used a wet cloth to clean his head. “you were meant to take things easy for the first few days.”

“i did!” he protested. “i was only like, twelve feet up!”

you pursed your lips and shook your head. your hand was under his chin now, stopping him from turning his head to look at you. “taking it easy means no rock climbing at all, dumbass. you’ve been out of here for half a day and you’re already back!”

“maybe i like it in here.” he shrugged, pouting slightly, looking up at you.

“maybe i find you really annoying and ban you from coming in here,” you countered.

“you can’t do that,” he gasped.

“watch me, castellan.” you prodded his cheek mockingly. “don’t mess with me.”

his smile wasn’t exactly the response you were looking for, but you found that you didn’t mind it all too much.

luke came into the infirmary almost every two days for the next two weeks.

there was always some new injury that he couldn’t ignore, that he needed to have you heal. he only came in when you were there though, like he knew your schedule off by heart.

he probably did.

his sheepish smile was becoming a fixture of your days and you couldn’t help but smile a little brighter when you saw it. you couldn’t stop your heart from beating a little faster either, and it was annoying.

in the years that you’d been at camp, luke castellan had driven you up the wall. did you hate him? did you love him? how did you love him? how a friend loves a friend? how a doctor loves a patient? how a lover loves a lover? how did you hate him? why? why anything? why nothing? the questions only got worse.

“another minor injury?” you sighed, hearing his footsteps entering the infirmary. you didn’t know when you memorised the sound of his footsteps, or the rise and fall of his breathing while he slept, but you did.

“uh, not exactly…” the weakness in his voice made your stomach drop.

you turned around to see him clutching a bright red wound on his inner arm. he looked pale. that wasn’t a good sign. the blood was still seeping past his fingers. also not a good sign.

you gasped and pulled him to a bed immediately, pushing him to lie down and placing hard pressure on the wound. you could feel him reaching into your pocket and fishing around for ambrosia. once he found some, he ate it quickly and sighed in relief.

“what the hell happened?” you exclaimed.

he shrugged with one shoulder. “sword training.”

“were you training against the fucking terminator?” you took in the other minor cuts and bruises. your voice was unfairly shaky. you didn’t want to get close to losing him again. even just the thought made you feel sick.

his eyes were soft when they looked up at you. you almost dropped all of your anger right there. “i got sloppy,” he said nonchalantly. “i’ll be fine once i get back to normal.”

“this is an artery,” you said. “you could die.”

he didn’t look all that upset or shocked. “i won’t die, baby. i won’t.”

your stomach gave a pitiful lurch at the nickname. “save your energy.”

“is that your doctorly way of telling me to shut up?” he teased.

“yes, it is,” you nodded. “now, shut up while i help you.”

he looked at you like you were hanging the stars in the sky, not tending to him with hands red from his blood.

no one had stopped talking about luke since he got back. the first failed quest in years, with two of the three members dying and the third one permanently scarred by a dragon. not a good ratio.

you often saw luke sitting alone now, and when he was nowhere to be found, you knew where he was.

maybe there was something to the strings of fate theory, you thought as you found him and sat down beside him among the reeds. they were taller now and more dense, but the two of you had carved out a little spot for yourselves over time. your limbs were still pressed against each other though. that was one thing that would never change.

he was turning something over in his hands. a repetitive motion.

you tried to make sense of what it was, but couldn’t.

“it’s a dragon claw,” he spoke up. “the one that did this.” he pointed at the still-red scar on his face. that was why you couldn’t get rid of that one. magic scars never really went away.

you stayed quiet.

“peter distracted the dragon just in time for me to get my sword back. i got the cut, but when i turned back he was getting thrown against the mountainside.” he shook his head bitterly. “he didn’t stand a chance.”

you stared at a dragonfly on a reed in front of you. “knowing my brother, he just would have been happy to be there. and happy that you’re alive.”

he smiled, but it looked forced and bitter. “yeah. he spent the whole time talking about how lucky we were for this opportunity, and how he was so excited to explore beyond camp… and gianna was the same. they were just…” he was fiddling with his camp beads now.

you watched his movements slowly. it was like he’d never been gone, but also like everything had changed. there was a new tension in the air around him. you weren’t sure if it was you or him.

“don’t be resentful,” you said softly, breaking the silence.

“what?” his eyes turned to you. “what do you mean?”

“don’t resent yourself and the gods for this,” you said, leaning a little closer to him and looking away. the dragonfly hadn’t moved—like it was listening. watching. “peter and gianna made their choices. they’re in elysium now. that’s about as good as it gets.”

he pressed his lips together and nodded. “i know.”

maybe there was something to the two hearts theory too, because you could tell he didn’t. he didn’t agree. he didn’t want to. you slipped your hand into his. “you know i’m always here for you, right, luke? i mean, you annoy me—a lot—but you’re still, well, you. and you’re important to me. i’ll always be there for you. if you want to hold hate in your heart, then be my guest. i’ll just have to hold more love in mine to balance you out.”

he was watching your connected fingers as you spoke. his hands were calloused and hard, but yours were softer. less time spent training and more time spent healing. “love for who?”

you, you thought. you didn’t speak.

he turned to look at you. you were already looking at him. “love for me?”

you swallowed tightly. “luke…”

he leaned in closer, until his lips were moments away from touching yours. one wrong move and you’d touch. or was that the right move? was the wrong move pulling away? leaving him alone—again? that didn’t feel fair. but nor did your pounding heart and your flushing cheeks, and maybe you were blushing now, but that didn’t mean you had to like it.

then you gave in. that string that connected your souls was pulling you too tight. your lips brushed against his softly at first, and before you could think to move any further, his hand was gripping the back of your neck and pulling you closer, and his lips were pressing against yours with the passion of years of built up tension. you’d never hated him at all, you realised. you loved him the whole time. sure, he was irritating. he was chatty. he was pushy and annoying and never stopped bothering you. but you’d missed his bothering, and you’d missed his smile, and when he pulled away to take a breath, you missed his lips with a fiery need that bubbled up from deep down inside you.

“guess i’ll be annoying you for the rest of our lives then, huh?” he said softly, chest rising and falling against yours.

your eyes were still closed, reeling from the kiss. “wasn’t that a given anyway? i wouldn’t want it any other way, personally.”

when he kissed you again, you decided that the theory about two hearts was, in fact, correct. you met as two, seperate halves in a fucked up world that had you grow up far too fast. you grew as two, finding your places at camp, finding your people, but always finding each other first. you met now as one. four arms, four legs, two hearts, meeting in a tumultuous display of love and desire. and that’s how you wanted to stay. your limbs locked with his, your hearts pounding in sync, your every feeling, every emotion, every sensation making your very soul hum with joy. you’d found him, finally, after years of your hearts waiting for this moment. finally, your two hearts were one again.

[mediumgayitalian]

fic rec friday

hi!! welcome to fic rec friday. every week, i pick five fics i have bookmarked and rec them with a little review. check them out!

let there be light, let me be alright by annaaperson

His words stopped short as he, along with the rest of the cabin, stared in wonder-filled horror at Will. Specifically Will Solace. More specifically, his hands. His hands that were glowing a soft golden light into the night’s bleeding darkness. (aka, 5 times Will freaked people out by cracking his joints and lighting up like a glow stick and the one time he doesn't)

this was very sweet. glowstick will solace is such a funny fucking character trait and it does not have the spotlight it should have. loved the will & lee and will & clarisse. and i am a 5+1 truther why are those fics like actual crack

2. Death Boy by percyspandapillowpet

The three times Nico said he hated the nickname Will gave him and the one time he didn't.

okay full and fair warning i WILL be talking about this author all the time. they carried the pjo fandom in 2016 truly. and this fic is so tooth-rotting!! love fics where nico slowly warms up to having friends as he deserves truly

3. The Thing You Need Most by @wintersky101

When he's finished in the infirmary, when he's finally done all that he can to keep himself distracted, Will staggers into the Apollo cabin and immediately crumples to his knees, tears already springing to his eyes.

no this one is so important bc sometimes i feel like this fandom falls into the repetition of sad-nico-comforting-will and while thats not necessarily bad!! its nice to have some variety. and having nico be there for will when will cant be is so important and lovely to see. this fic does it so well!!

4. I swear by Apollo the physician, and Asclepius, and Hygieia and Panacea and all the gods and goddesses as my witnesses, that, according to my ability and judgement, I will keep this Oath and this contract: by @nicostolemybones

Will breaks the entire Hippocratic Oath.

i read this fic months ago and i literally think about it all the time. the quiet bitterness. the rebellion borne of a deep deep love for everyone around him. the backbone made of steel. william andrew solace i would die for you

5. Beautiful pain by Phantomxlegend

Will can take the pain of others and bear it himself. Half the time it’s not even a conscious decision and he doesn’t even know he did it... until later when the pain hits.

is this a little out there? yeah. a little wumpy?? yeah. but what is the point of fandom otherwise. this fic is exactly what it advertises

thank you for joining me this friday!! happy reading!!

[shastafirecracker]

Hello!!! I am so curious if you have any spare Trillium and Ivy lore that you’d like to share? Any backstories, character playlists, cut scenes, whatever you’d like! It’s definitely become one of my comfort fics, and it’s so well written and funny! Have a great day! 🤞🏻

Hell yeah! I just opened my original note/outline document to look through it, so here's some concepts that never made it into the final version (but could still be true!):

-[re:meryl and milly] one of the couple is trans. everyone assumes it is 6-foot deadlift-a-tree Milly, but it is of course 5'4" blow-away-in-a-stiff-wind Meryl

-Hoppered, or Hop, liaises with the May homeless population and still spends a huge amount of time on the streets, but has been a staple at the shelter for so long that the people who run the place started insisting on paying him to help them with outreach. He is usually around somewhere in his wheelchair with his backpack of supplies for specific recipients - like he takes people their prescriptions, makes sure the people with allergies get special groceries, knows exactly where to put up notices about shower and bed and job opportunities. One of the people at the shelter is the blind woman from the manga

-actual part of my notes: "livio's just like didja bang yet. didja bang yet. hey hey, nick. you fuckin. hey. and nick is like I Will Push You Out Of This Moving Car I Swear To God. but privately also thinking like, i can never admit how much ive been jerking it recently, could vash STOP carrying heavy bags of mulch around the parking lot all day, please vash i am going to die"

-Another long chunk of the notes, detailing the Saverem family dynamic: "vash explains he grew up on a farm with some ex-commune hippie parents who adopted he and knives and tried to get away from a lot of the groupthink of the commune while still imparting their ideals onto the twins. which meant homeschooling and a lot of camping, backpacking, learning to live off the land kinda stuff. alex died when the twins were really young but rem was a good single mom. but the twins always were competitive and when knives caused the accident it tore the family apart. vash was in the hospital for a really long time and ended up never going to college because of it, and knives started college but dropped out to join the group he ran with for several years. rem couldn't quite empty-nest because vash had to be home a lot for recovery and went through a long period of depression during which he slowly went back and got his GED, learned to cope with prosthetics and chronic pain, relearned loving the land, and turned from big farming projects to smaller garden projects. then rem was diagnosed with ovarian cancer which is cruel because she and alex never could conceive - why they adopted - and rem and vash had a really strong period of bonding while he healed and she died, during which she apologized for accidentally teaching the twins that productivity and purpose was everything, because really purpose isn't everything. just existing is a good in the world. existing and being kind to yourself and others. and plants that didn't "do" anything were just as precious as ones that made food or other "useful" stuff. Vash grows flowers for rem. she loved red flowers, especially geraniums. rem dies."

AGAIN I JUST WANT TO SAY, I was fuckign writing this before Stampede even got announced, so that damn apollo dodgeball of prophecy got me even with the idea of "plants that don't do anything."

-the original outline for the final showdown with Legato involved Livio, Zazie, Meryl & Milly ALL also going to the warehouse (later turned into the abandoned nightclub). It was batshit and I realized how untenable it was pretty early, and dumped everyone from the scene except the vital players (V, W, K, Legato). I also had this incredibly complicated way to justify why Legato getting arrested wouldn't just immediately get Knives also arrested? and then I realized that, duh, by far the easiest way to sidestep the issue was to just kill Legato. He dies in every canon anyway. Like why was I trying to keep him alive, lol.

-midvalley was going to be an FBI guy? ok sure

OTHER LITTLE SCENES I meant to write for the follow-up of mini-fics:

-Nick is from somewhere cold, and underestimates heat. He speaks at a burial in the summer (full suit, no tent) and ends up having heat exhaustion. doesn't know why he's so sick until Vash gets the details of his day out of him and Vash is like, good god man, here is water, go lie down, did you not grow up with constant PSAs about how not to get heat stroke? and nick's like NO you dipshit!

-Vash is from somewhere hot, and underestimates cold! An ice storm that is unreasonably strong for the area (thanks climate change!) passes through and Vash is just excited for snow like a kid at Christmas. meanwhile Nick is going feral trying to winterize a house that was never built for/intended to be winterized. Vash's joy at the snow helps remind him to see the beauty of it for a while, and that's nice, but then their power stays out for like a week and it becomes "huddle for warmth in a snowed in cabin" trope except more depressingly realistic bc it's your own damn home and you can barely live in it. :C (drawn from personal experience, ahaha... ugh)

-at some point I had meant to write them going on a trip to the beach with the girls, and/or a trip to December so Vash could meet Melanie and Nick could visit St. Michaels

anyway that's all I can think of for now! thank you so much for being a fan of my silly story! <3 <3 <3 I loved writing it and I love how much love it's gotten over time since I posted it.

[mari-lair]

☀️, for the ask game

☀️ Has anyone ever left you a comment that made your day? What did it say?

I had a few, but recently only yours come to mind! You went into so many details, and paid so much attention, it got me writing proudly like Nene with her diary.

I worked on the chapter as if I was speedrunning the day I got it, even finished that week! And i still re-read it when I need motivation. I'm determined to make the next chapter long!

And here is what the comment said:

[so, uh, i may or may not have forgotten to comment on this for half a month… well, to compensate for my lateness i’ve decided to write my thoughts on this chapter in excruciating detail because i’m actually very normal (i swear)

1. THEY SHAKED HANDS… OH MY GOD… look it may not seem like much but when you think about it hand shaking is pretty much just hand holding with extra steps, so basically they just held hands (good for them!!!)

2. aka’s relationship with mirai is. so much to me. AND DRAWING PARALLELS TO TERU AND TIARA’S RELATIONSHIP… LITERALLY RATTLING MY CAGE BARS SO HARD AT THIS!!! also them agreeing that teru’s a piece of crap is so iconic fr

3. aka offering for teru to braid his hair is so damn telling of how theyre slowly but surely getting closer and starting to trust each other a bit and i just. AAAHHDJFJFJFJFJFJFFJAJSKDKKD. THIS IS DRIVING ME INSANE /POS

4. omg i remember when i was looking at one of the wips and i was like ‘wait op isn’t gonna pull a chapter 26 right…’ and i am SO GLAD that i dodged apollo’s dodgeball there because i’d probably cry if that happened

5. ‘wiggling around like a pathetic worm’ is such a Sentence™ and now it’ll be forever ingrained in my mind, i bet ten dollars i’m gonna end up quoting that like five times in a row while knowing damn well that nobody’s gonna fully understand me

6. aka’s reaction to teru being taller than him is so comically paradigmatic of their relationship like damn, i’m gonna go sit in a corner and think about that for a while gimme a few okay (and by ‘a few’ i mean the next few YEARS)

7. the part where teru ruffles aka’s hair and notices how cold it is OH MY GOD AJSKJDKDKFKF???? i think i’ll have to change that from a few years to a few decades… may or may not have led me down a rabbit hole of thoughts on aka’s lack of humanity ngl 😳😳😳 i’m like 2 seconds away from writing a small essay about it someone needs to either stop me or encourage me right now

8. ‘it was as if growing up made teru lose his survival instincts’… HEY, WHAT DOES THIS MEAN 😀 is it because he eventually falls in love with aka… i know what you are, teru 🤨📸 BUT ALSO WHAT IF IT’S SOMETHING ELSE okay i don’t know what else it could be atm but whatever it is i have a feeling it would not be good

9. tbh… i’m becoming a rita stan (i said, not even having the faintest idea of what she looks like because i can’t imagine people for the life of me) wait actually. you should draw her /nf… if you don’t do it first then i’ll just have to draw her myself ig

10. TERU CALLING AKA BY HIS NAME. TERU GETTING GENUINELY WORRIED FOR AKA. i am going to lock myself in my dryer and never come out omg i’m going to cry this is so important to me i’m never gonna dance again because of this

11. the way he’s starting to care about aka… i’m literally going to cry… god the way you write character dynamics and development is literally going to make me rip my eyes out IT’S SO GOOD AJKDDJKDKDFK. and the way he was denying it so hard too 😭😭 it’s like, he’s trying so much to convince himself that he doesn’t care about aka and i just,,, IT’S SO. YK

12. this is like. stage one: Denial™, yk. like he says and does all these things to try and distract from how he actually feels, HE OVERCOMPENSATES SO MUCH LMAO, idk how to articulate it but this is going to be the death of me, i was just waiting for him to realize just how much he cares deep down yk… actually this entire fic is just killing me to death tbh

13. AND THEN WHEN HE FINALLY ADMITS IT TO HIMSELF OH MY GOD. I’M GOING TO SLAM HIM INTO A MICROWAVE THIS LITERALLY MEANS EVERYTHING I’M USING EVERY FIBRE OF MY BEING TO NOT SCREAM AND SHOUT RN

14. and then of course he tries to pin the blame on aka, like he’s just doing everything in his power to deny his feelings lmaoo, that’s literally so in character for him… like who’s gonna tell him about friendship /j, btw this fic is stabbing me cesear-style rn

15. AND THEN THE ENDING OH MY GOD… NOW THAT’S HOW YOU END A CHAPTER FR!! i am currently going to explode with anticipation for the next chapter, i’m actually never going to shut up about this fic tbh

i don’t really know a good way to finish this small essay of a comment off, so i’ll just quote something i texted to a friend while in the middle of writing this: ‘i fink that fic may have ruined me tbh but it’s too radballs for me to go back now’. i think that adequately summarizes my thoughts on this tbh

so uh yeah!!! thanks for reading exactly 895 words of me incoherently rambling about this fic, next time i’m going to make a google slides presentation /j but seriously i love this fic so much and i can’t wait to see where it goes next!]

[rockinlibrarian]

🤡😈🙋‍♀️

Whoo, my brother starts following me and I suddenly have someone who Asks me stuff! Yay! Go Dan!

🤡 What’s a line, scene, or exchange you’ve written that made you laugh?

Hmm, I think my funniest fic on the whole is "The Invitation: an Epilogue," just by nature of being Diana Wynne Jones-y. That's if you don't count the Pipeweed Mafia Epic, which is unpublished but pure crack.

The single line I think I've always been most inordinately pleased with is from "The Fall of (Spoilers Redacted)"-- "My prior hist’ry with this one’s (forgive me) discommodius," which is a terrible pun perfectly executed. See, it's a line in a ballad being freestyled by the god Apollo, who in Rick Riordan's characterization absolutely would not pass up such a pun and also would absolutely stick that "forgive me" in first, and it fits the dang meter AND manages to very nearly rhyme with the character name the NEXT line ends with. The thing that tickled me most about writing it, though, was I'd been working on a totally different stanza and needed to find another word for "awkward," and when I saw THAT WORD in the thesaurus I immediately jumped ahead to THIS stanza just so I could write this line. It is absolutely the best word possible for this point in the story. But it's probably only funny if you know what he's referring to.

EDITING TO ADD: There have been a lot of parts of my stories that made me laugh in progress, but I'm coming back because I just reread this and it's almost 3 years later and I still relish this bit of dialogue (or monologue) from "We Will (Not) Always Have Each Other": "Marvelous, you all survived! Except for that unfortunate fellow, but he already was doing poorly, as I recall. But good news: I remembered how to cook brunch! I even remembered the word ‘brunch’! Would anyone care to join me in the partaking of brunch?” just because I can hear the way Oliver relishes saying the word "brunch" every time he says it.

I'm also suddenly remembering a scene in the Wash/Zoe fic I have mentioned writing but not finishing, where the soon-to-be-couple are bickering while Mal is bleeding in the background and he keeps trying to get them to remember he's there and injured, and it amuses me just thinking about it, so SOMEDAY I'll figure out how to finish that dang thing and I'll share it just so you can enjoy that scene, too.

😈 Has there been a point in a story where you did something just to be playfully mean to your readers?

Honestly, I never trust that I'll HAVE readers enough to do anything FOR them, even mischievously. I really write everything for myself and HOPE someone appreciates it. I think the closest I've gotten is that there's a lot of painfully ironic foreshadowing in "Tesseract," at least for everyone who knows what happens in A Wrinkle In Time, but the meanest thing about that fic is actually that I haven't updated it in almost a year but keep teasing the fact that HONEST I SWEAR the next chapters ARE in progress! (There's even more foreshadowing in these subsequent chapters, which The Readers WILL get to read someday I swear). (BTW Dan, that seems like a fic you would especially appreciate. I promise more chapters eventually).

🙋‍♀️ Do any irl people know you write fanfic?

Yes, I would think almost everyone does (except, like, random library patrons), but very few actually read it. Maybe they think they don't know the source material enough? But that's why I made this handy guide to how much source material you actually need to read it?

This has been a response to this Emoji Ask List Thing! Feel free to emoji ask your own!

[cacoetheswriting]

library hours

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!Reader Warnings: maybe a swear word or two, really just FLUFF ft. baby spence Word Count: 1.3k Summary: A late night at a university library leads to reader meeting a tall brunette genius. [fyi i wrote a reimagined version with professor reid x reader. you can read it here]

A/N: dedicated to the amazing @ellesgreenaway​ for inspiring this little fic & giving it a title!!  ❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️

-

There was something you always enjoyed about the going to the library.

Perhaps it was the way every single person that walked through the threshold had a purpose. A mission to complete. Perhaps it was the quiet. The solace you felt sitting alone in a corner researching various topics, for class and for recreational purposes.

The university library had quickly become your second home. A location you frequented more than your own dorm room. It wasn’t always to study, no. You people watched. Doodled. Even napped there from time to time. The place brought you peace, and by the time you senior year rolled around, you saw the librarians more than your college friends.

The university library was also the place where you first met a certain young brunette genius - which in time became the main reason why you liked it so much.

Lights were slowly being turned off section by section. A vacuum came to life in one of the aisles. People started to scramble from their seats - shoving their things into their backpacks, throwing out empty coffee cups into the overflowing bins, checking out books they might still use that evening.

All signs indicating it was time to go.

Dolly, one of the librarians, ushered towards you. Her jacket draped over her shoulders, her bag in hand. She gave you the usual spiel of how you can stay until the janitor is finished cleaning, to which you politely nodded along. She wished you a pleasant night, and with a “see you tomorrow” she hurried out the door.

Once she was out of sight, you groaned under your breath and ran your fingers through your hair. You had an assignment due tomorrow, one you started hours ago and only managed to formulate three total sentences. Your gut was telling you there was no way you were going to finish now, especially since you had about thirty minutes until you would have to leave.

Leaning back in your chair, you fluttered your eyes closed in an attempt to collect your thoughts. The tranquil feeling didn't last long as you were abruptly brought back to reality by a loud bang. You quickly sat back up and scanned the space for the source of the noise.

A tall brunette man, not much older than you, stood a few tables away, a heavy looking book at his feet and a shameful look spread across his features.

“The library is closed for the night.” You stated. The brunette scrunched his nose briefly. “B-but you’re here.” He remarked before leaning down to pick up the book he dropped.

“I have permission to be here.”

“What if I do too?” He challenged, taking a step towards you although still keeping a safe distance.

You folded your arms across your chest and arched a brow. “Well, do you?”

The brunette didn't respond. Instead, you noticed how his cheeks flushed a shade of red, how he clutched the book to his chest, and how his fingers tightened around the strap of his bag.

You couldn't help but smirk as you let your arms fall back down to your side.

“I’m just kidding. Come on, join me.” You said, pointing to to the chair across the table from you. “We have about twenty-five minutes before we get kicked out, might as well make the most of it.”

He hesitated for a split second, hovering in his spot. It wasn't until you turned your attention completely away from him, and back to the book in front of you, that he made his move.

“You’re not some sort of killer, are you? You’re not here to murder me?” You asked, looking up as he sat down. His eyes widened and he quickly shook his head in response. “Ehm... N-no.”

“That wasn't a very reassuring no, but I guess I’ll take it.” You nudged in response, and proceeded to work away on your assignment. As you worked, you could feel his eyes burning into you.

In any other situation, with any other stranger, the feeling would have made you uncomfortable. But there was something about the timid stranger that was quite welcoming.

“I-I actually, uhm, I profile serial killers. I help catch them.” He said after a moment of silence. Once again, you glanced up from your notes to look at him. Intrigue greeting your facial features. “I just started with the FBI.” He stated.

It wasn't a brag. No. It was a statement to make you feel more safe, and you couldn't help but smile at him. “So, mister FBI, what are you doing in a university library on a Thursday night?”

“Doctor.” He corrected.

“What?”

“Doctor FBI.” He said, corners of his lips twitching upwards. “I have PhDs in Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering.” Now, that was a brag.

You chuckled softly. “You don't happen to have a PhD in History under your belt, do you? Because that would be very helpful right about now.”

“No, but I do have an eidetic memory and can read twenty-thousand words per minute.” He declared. You stared at him in disbelief, your mouth parting ever so slightly in shock.

“Did they make you in a lab or something?” You teased, although you could tell he didn't find it amusing. He furrowed his brows, lips pursed into thin line. You chewed down on your bottom lip, feeling slightly ashamed for poking fun at the guy who was nothing but be nice to you. “I’m sorry.” You mumbled faintly. “That was rude.”

“It’s okay.” He quickly reassured, and shot you a timid smile. The two of you stared silently at one another. There was something amicable about the seconds that passed as you looked into his hazel eyes. Something harmonious. Friendly. Strong.

You cleared your throat. “There uhm, there’s this dinner not far from here. It’s twenty-four hours so they won't kick us out. Would you like to come with me? We can share a pie. I mean, if you’re into that. Or, or we can just have coffee-”

“Y-yes, I would love to.” The young doctor answered all too quickly causing you to grin at him.

Soon enough you were both packed up and up on your feet, heading towards the library exit.

There wasn’t a cloud in the sky making the million stars shine all that brighter. They looked like perfect sugar granules spilled on a dark surface, accompanied by the glowing moonlight. Breathtaking.

Street lamps glittered ahead, illuminating the streets. The two of you walked side by side, almost in sync.

“Does that big brain of yours possess information on Roman gods?” You asked while nonchalantly hopping up on the curb. You spread out your arms like a tightrope walker, and with one foot carefully placed in front of the other you continued your journey.

The wind blew lightly through your hair, your brunette companion observing quietly. A smile creeping up on his lips. “Because if you do, I might ask for your help with an assignment.” You glanced at him briefly.

“I-I do actually, ehm. The... The Ancient Romans were extremely religious, and believed their success was due to their strong beliefs. They believed that if you maintained a good relationship with the gods, they would be kind to you.” He briskly cleared his throat. “There were twelve Olympian Gods in total. Jupiter, Juno, Mars, Mercury, Neptune, Venus, Apollo, Diana, Minerva, Ceres, Vulcan, and Vesta...”

You let out a soft kindhearted laugh. “Okay doctor FBI, slow down. Wait until we get to the diner so I can really appreciate your genius.”

He blushed, feeling thankful that the darkness around prevented you from seeing. “It’s Spencer. My name, uhm, my name is Spencer.”

You stopped in your tracks and elegantly hopped off the curb. Spencer turned in his spot so that he was now facing you completely, only an arms reach away.

“Spencer...” You tested the name on your tongue, a smile embellishing your features. “It suits you.” You retorted before proceeding to introduce yourself, “I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, Spencer.”

-

masterlist

spencer reid taglist: @no-honey-no​, @calm-and-doctor​, @idroppedmygourd​​, @averyhotchner, @wowitsel, @elldell1204, @hey-there-angels, @reidabookforonce, @ellesgreenaway

[today-only-happens-once]

(un)claimed

Title: unclaimed

Summary: Virgil is a demigod. The good news is that he is not alone. A Percy-Jackson!AU fic. Platonic/found-family DRLAMP dynamics.

Word Count: 4217

Warnings: some violence and weapons, Greek mythology, passing mention of curses, feelings of anxiety, some self-doubt and self-deprecation, parent issues (of course, it’s a pjo!AU), no Side is a bad guy but there’s some tension between Remus and Roman, I play a little loose with PJO timeline stuff woops, Janus has done some light antagonizing of the gods.

A/N: Honestly, it should surprise nobody that I wrote this. Heh. Just for fun to release the happy chemical in my brain. Not that deep or involved. Just a light little diddy. <3 Hope you enjoy! Edited by yours truly so all mistakes are mine. No tags because it’s a fandom-specific AU, not because I don’t love y’all. <3 

///

“See that tree on the hill?”

Virgil quirks an eyebrow at the boy beside him, taking in his bright orange t-shirt and the three beads on his leather necklace. He has what Virgil would swear was snake scales across the left side of his face. Janus, he had said his name was. (Like the god? Virgil had asked. No relation. Not unless Athena has some explaining to do, the boy had told him with a wry smile as if that was somehow supposed to make sense.)

He’d met Janus four hours ago in New York in Central Park after a very weird encounter with a cyclops. Though if he’s being honest, the cyclops had only been the most recent run-in with vicious creatures out of his mother’s old Greek myth anthology. He’d been ducking and dodging and outrunning them for nearly a year at this point. Janus had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, sliced the cyclops with a dagger and it vanished in a puff of gold dust.

Then Janus told him he knew a safe place to go. Perhaps he was an idiot, but Virgil had followed without much objection. The idea of a place that was safe was nearly too good to be true, but Janus had just dusted a cyclops. And Virgil figured there was at least some power in numbers, if nothing else.

Virgil follows where the other boy is pointing and sees a tall pine tree at the top of the steep hill. He nods.

“Go there. You’ll see a camp in the valley. Chiron will explain.”

“Chiron?”

“Yes. Activities director. You can trust him.”

“You’re not coming too?” Virgil looks at the boy beside him again. Janus is looking in the opposite direction of the tree back the way they’d come and he yanks the dagger out of his belt.

Janus’s mouth twitches. “We’ve got company. I will hold them off. The border is protected. You’ll be safe once you cross the tree line.”  

Alarmed, Virgil looks over his shoulder and sees a winged creature in the distance. It looks almost a like a bat, if a bat could be the size of a human person. “What is that?!”

Janus gives a slight shove to Virgil’s shoulder. “Run, Virgil!”

“I can’t leave you behind—”

Janus mutters something that sounds foreign, and yet Virgil understands it. A curse word in… was that ancient Greek? Virgil isn’t given time to process it before Janus grabs Virgil’s arm and takes off at a sprint up the hill. Virgil stumbles but he manages to keep his feet under him as he takes off at a run for the looming pine. As they get closer, Virgil chances a glance over his shoulder. The winged creature is maybe twenty yards away. It’ll be on them any second.

Janus whistles sharply. “Hey! We got incoming!”

Seemingly out of nowhere, three other kids appear from near the tree. One of them notches an arrow in an honest-to-gods bow. He aims, then releases. Virgil watches, stunned, as the blow strikes true and the winged creature vanishes in a puff of gold dust that gets caught in the breeze.

Virgil rests his hands on his knees as he catches his breath. Janus, beside him, is breathing hard as well but he nods to the kid with the bow and arrow.

“Nice shot,” Virgil tells him.

The kid looks to be maybe a year older than Virgil, and is wearing a t-shirt that matches Janus’s. He’s also got a necklace of beads, though his has five of them. Virgil realizes that some of them match Janus’s, plus a few more. He slings the bow across his back and flashes Virgil a bright grin.

“Thanks! I’m Sloane.” He extends his hand.

“Virgil.” He shakes the kid’s hand.

Sloane nods to the other two kids that had materializes near him. One of them is a girl that looks a little younger than Virgil, maybe 14, with dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. The other is a guy in a backwards baseball cap and a plaid shirt over the orange tee that looks about Sloane’s age. His necklace only has one bead on it.

“This is Valerie,” Sloane introduces. “She’s from Cabin 10. And this is Kai. He’s from Cabin 9.”

“Sloane,” Janus interrupts. “Where’s Chiron?”

Sloane jerks his head down the hill. “In the Big House with the lead counselors.”

Virgil watches Janus’s brow furrow. “Seems unusual. Did something happen?”

Valerie sighs. “Kind of. Dionysus gave one of his kids a quest. Counselors are meeting about the prophecy to see who is going.”

Janus’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Which one?”

“Jack. The prophecy mentions a death. That never bodes well, and kids aren’t exactly lining up to work for Mr. D.”

Janus hums thoughtfully, his eyes trailing over the crest of the hill. Virgil watches as he shoves the knife into his belt. Kai cocks his head slightly, studying Virgil closely. Then, he looks at Janus. “Has he been claimed?”

Virgil frowns. “Claimed?”

“No,” Janus tells Kai, then looks to Virgil. “Follow me. I’ll explain as we walk.”

Janus nods to the other three and Virgil follows him down to the valley below. From this vantage point, Virgil sees the cabins Janus has been talking about, forming something like a horseshoe shape. In front of it is a large building that Virgil assumes is the ‘Big House’ that Sloane had mentioned. He sees other buildings and structures, but decides to wait to ask about them.

People mill around, most of them wearing the orange t-shirt that has a winged horse and the words Camp Half-Blood printed on them. When they notice Virgil, most of them throw a curious glance to Janus. Janus doesn’t even seem to notice.

“Welcome to Camp Half-Blood,” Janus says as they walk. “It’s one of the few safe spaces left for demigods like us.”

“Wait,” Virgil says, certain that he heard Janus incorrectly. “Demigod?”

Janus glances at him. “Hm. I gather you really don’t know very much. Yes, demigod. Half-god, half-mortal.”

“And you think I’m one of these, uh, half-bloods?” Virgil shakes his head. “Listen, I think you’ve got the wrong guy.”

Janus looks almost amused now, an eyebrow arching almost like a challenge. “You couldn’t have gotten across the border into camp if you weren’t. Let me guess… you have ADHD and dyslexia.”

“Wh—I mean, yes, but—”

“You were raised by either a single parent or no parent at all,” Janus continues.

“My mom, until—”

“You see things others either don’t see or don’t remember.”

“I—”

“Please. Do stop me if I’m wrong.”

Virgil falls silent, his chest a bit tight. He crosses his arms over his chest as they walk.

Janus waits for a beat before he elaborates, sounding like it’s a spiel he’s given a dozen times already. “The ADHD is the battle reflexes. Dyslexia is because your brain is wired for ancient Greek, not modern English.”

Virgil’s mind is reeling. “But—”

“The things you see are because you’re a demigod. You are able to see things as they are.  Mortals—most mortals—get deceived by this thing called the Mist. Someday, with training, you’ll be able to manipulate it as well. It’s a useful skill.”

Virgil feels suddenly way too hot, and yet still has the sudden desire to pull the hood of his hoodie up over his hair. “Demigod,” he repeats, though saying it aloud doesn’t help it make sense. “Are… Are you telling me that my dad is a god? Like a Greek god? Zeus? Apollo? Those guys?”

Janus glances at him and looks, for a split second, almost apologetic. “I understand that it’s a lot to take in at once. This is why Chiron usually takes the initiation. He usually has a more, ah, sensitive means of broaching the subject. But since he’s meeting with the lead counselors, I’m afraid the responsibility falls to me.”

Virgil blinks. He can feel the pressure in his chest building and he forces himself to take a breath. It doesn’t help as much as he’d been hoping it would. “Which one?”

“Hm?”

“Which god is my dad?”

They’re passing in front of the Big House now. There’s two people standing on the front porch—a blonde girl holding a Yankees cap and a boy with a goatee leaning against the railing—seeming deep in conversation. The blonde girl offers Janus a small wave. Janus nods back.

“To your question, the answer is that we don’t know,” he says. “Since you haven’t been claimed yet, your guess is as good as ours. But you might be claimed any minute now, or never claimed at all. I was claimed three days after arriving at camp by Athena. But we have several campers who haven’t been claimed at all. Remy Short is one such example.”

“Athena. Goddess of wisdom and strategy,” Virgil remembers. He’d read that name in his mother’s library when he was younger. And he has a vague memory from sixth grade social studies.

“Indeed,” Janus replies. They circle around the house and Virgil realizes that Janus is leading him towards the semi-circle of cabins. “Since you haven’t been claimed yet, you’re designated to Cabin 11. Hermes’ cabin.”

“Janus!” A bright, cheerful voice calls from behind them. Janus stops and turns, and Virgil follows his gaze. A boy that looks about Virgil’s age, maybe a year older, is running towards them from the Big House. He’s got a flop of curly hair and big round glasses.

“Patton,” Janus greets as the boy slows to a stop near them. “Virgil, this is Patton. He’s the head of the Hermes cabin.”

Patton grins and holds out his hand. “Hi, Virgil. Welcome to Cabin 11. I’ll talk to Chiron about getting you some supplies—”

“I’ll talk to Chiron,” Janus interrupts as Virgil shakes Patton’s hand. “I need to ask him about some things anyway. Patton, could you—”

“For sure,” Patton agrees readily. “I’ll show Virgil around!”

Janus excuses himself and starts towards the Big House. Virgil rubs the back of his neck and offers Patton an awkward smile.  Now that he’s closer, Virgil realizes that Patton is maybe an inch or so shorter than him. He’s got four beads on his necklace.  

“How ya doing?” Patton asks him, startling him out of his thoughts. Virgil meets his eyes. Patton’s are a warm brown, and his smile is sympathetic. “I remember my first day at camp. It’s always overwhelming.”

Virgil huffs. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“You’ll love it here,” Patton says with a surprising amount of confidence.

Virgil arcs a skeptical eyebrow. “I’ve heard that before. I don’t seem to, ah, stay in one place very long.”

“Kicked out of school?” Patton guesses. He starts walking around the cabins and Virgil follows, slipping his hands into the pocket of his hoodie.

“Yeah. Several times.”

“We all have,” Patton says, not unkindly. “That’s the best thing about camp. In the mortal world, we’re all labeled as weird or outcasts. But at camp? We’ve all been through it. Oh! This is Cabin 10. Aphrodite’s cabin.”

Patton walks Virgil around the semi-circle, explaining each cabin’s assigned deity. He adds that Cabins 1 through 3 are empty, though apparently there was a girl that used to be in Cabin 1—Zeus’s cabin—who joined the Hunters of Artemis and left camp. Cabin 2 was Hera’s, and since she didn’t have children, the cabin was mostly honorary. Cabin 3 usually had a kid in it, but he apparently was on some kind of recon mission and wouldn’t return for another day or two. Cabin 8—Aretmis’s cabin—is also, usually, empty except when the Hunters visit.

“Since you don’t know who your dad is, you get to bunk with us at the Hermes Cabin,” Patton explains. “We take all unclaimed kids, since Hermes is the god of travelers.”

“I thought he was the god of thieves,” Virgil says before he can think about it.

Patton smiles sheepishly. “Yeah, that too. If you’ve got anything important, maybe keep it with ya. Just in case. I try to dissuade stealing, but old habits die hard for some of these kiddos.”  

Patton leads him around the camp, pointing out the strawberry fields, the armory, and the forge that mostly gets used by the Hephaestus kids. A few of them wave at Patton, who eagerly waves back and calls a few of them by name. He shows Virgil the arena, where two kids are sparring. Patton takes a seat and Virgil sits beside him, watching the two boys circle each other.

Both of them are wearing matching orange t-shirts—Patton had told him that he’d be getting one too—and some armor. One of them has dark hair and square glasses. He’s got two knives, one in each hand, and even from a bit of distance Virgil can sees the slight sheen of sweat to his forehead. The other one’s hair is a couple of shades lighter. His sleeves are rolled up and he wields a sword and a shield.

“The one with the glasses is Logan,” Patton explains. “He’s a child of Athena. The other one is Roman. He’s a child of Apollo. I met both of them in Seattle before we made our way to camp together thanks to some help from a satyr.”

“All three of you have been claimed?” Virgil asks, watching as Roman charges at Logan who rolls out of the way and then nimbly jumps back up to his feet. He slashes at Roman’s back but Roman parries the blow with a well-timed flick of the sword.

“Not immediately,” Patton says. “Logan was claimed as soon as we got to camp, but it was a month or so for me. And Roman was nearly a year before Apollo claimed him during a campfire song. It certainly surprised a lot of people.”

“Why?”

“His brother was claimed by Ares three months before him, so most people thought Roman was Ares’ kid too.”

Virgil glances at Patton. “Roman has a brother?”

Patton’s mouth presses into a thin line for a moment, and Virgil gets the sense that it’s a touchy subject. “Yeah. Remus. It’s unusual for two kids of the same family to both be demigods, and the fact that their father are two different gods led to some… tension. Roman and Remus don’t exactly get along.”

Virgil nods his understanding and turns his attention back to the sparring pair. Roman blocks a quick slash from Logan with his shield and swipes at him with the sword, but Logan parries the blow with the other knife in his hands. Then in a series of quick movements—Virgil isn’t sure how it happens, exactly—Roman is flat on his back and Logan is on his chest with the knife to his throat.

Roman says something that Virgil can’t make out, and Logan says something in kind before he climbs off Roman and helps him up. Roman flashes a grin and shoves Logan’s shoulder before he glances past his sparring match and sees Patton and Virgil sitting on one of the benches.

Roman waves. “Heya, Padre!”

Logan glances over his shoulder and quirks an eyebrow at Virgil but stores his daggers as Roman jogs over. Patton stands and Virgil follows him down to meet Roman halfway.

“Hey, Roman,” Patton replies. “I didn’t know you started using a sword!”

Roman grabs a towel off a nearby bench and mops the sweat off his forehead. “It’s new. I’m still trying to get used to it. I think the balance is off.”

“The balance is fine,” Logan quips, stepping up beside him. “You just need more practice.”

Roman rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue. “Either way, Specs. I’ll take archery any day over waving a sharp stick around.”

“You are definitely a son of Apollo,” Logan rejoins back without malice. “And it would be unwise to only be versed in ranged attack.”

“And you are definitely a son of Athena.”

“Correct.”

Virgil snorts, and then a part of him regrets it as Roman and Logan both look over at him. Virgil flushes slightly, uncomfortable with the sudden attention, but Patton seems to only perk up more.

“Oh! Sorry, this is Virgil. He’s a new camper. Janus ran into him on his way back and brought him along.”

“Which cabin?” Logan asks.

Virgil shrugs. “For now, Cabin 11, I guess.”

“Unclaimed, then.” Virgil listens for the judgement in Logan’s voice, but he doesn’t hear it. It sounds more like a flat statement of fact, as if reporting the weather. Logan nods once. “Very well.”

“I was just showing him around,” Patton supplies. “You guys wanna join?”

Logan starts shrugging out of the armor he’s wearing. “Regrettably, I said that I would assist Harley with some blueprints when I had finished sparring with Roman.”

Roman slides the sword into the scabbard at his side. “And I’m overdue for a Pegasus lesson. I can’t miss it again. The last thing I need is Mr. D giving me another earful.” Roman gives a quick two-finger salute and rushes out of the arena.

Virgil blinks at Patton. “Pegasus?”

Patton grins brightly. “Come on. I’ll show ya.”

…

Patton spends the rest of the afternoon showing Virgil around the camp. They go to the stables (where Roman offers to take Virgil for a ride but Virgil immediately declines because he’s never been a fan of flying). They swing by the beach on their way to the climbing wall. Virgil watches, amazed, as two kids climb with impressive speed and narrowly avoid the magma that starts to pour down it.

One of the kids has a Morningstar gripped between his teeth, a green bandana around his upper bicep and a matching one around his head. He’s fast, scaling the wall with a well-practiced ease. Virgil hears him laugh delightedly when his hand slips and he almost gets burned by the lava. It’s somehow both impressive and disconcerting.

“That would be Remus.”

“That’s Remus?” Virgil repeats, though when he looks a bit closer he sees the similarity in hair color and skin complexion. “I guess I see the resemblance.”

“Don’t tell Roman that,” Patton says lightly. “C’mon.”

They pass the amphitheater where, apparently, there would be a bonfire tonight. Patton shows him the volleyball court where four kids are playing one another. They wave at Patton as they pass.

“You seem popular,” Virgil supplies. He’s lost track of how many kids have waved at them as they walk around.

Patton lifts a shoulder modestly. “I dunno. Since Hermes is the catch-all cabin, a lot of camp knows me since they come to our cabin if they haven’t been claimed yet. Sometimes we get kids that get claimed right away, or kids that already have been claimed, but otherwise? I get to be their lead counselor for at least a little bit.”

“Sounds like a lot of responsibility.”

“I kind of like it,” Patton admits with a smile. “It’s like I’m everyone’s honorary camp dad.”

The conversation cuts out as dinner is called and they head to the mess hall. Patton explains the offering to the gods prior to the meal, and Virgil scrapes part of his plate into the fire. He doesn’t know what to ask for.

It’d be nice to have a family again, dad, he thinks, unsure of who he should even direct the comment to. Patton waves him over, offering a seat beside him.

Virgil chances a glance around the mess hall as they eat. The Hermes table is certainly the most crowded, though Virgil can’t say he finds that surprising. Athena’s table has several kids reading while eating. Two kids at the Ares table are in the middle of an arm-wrestling competition. One kid at the Hephaestus table is pouring over a blueprint, and Virgil wonders if that was the Harley kid that Logan had mentioned.

Towards the end of the meal, a few kids at the Apollo table starts singing “Bohemian Rhapsody” and it’s not long before most of their table is doing the entire song with harmony. Someone from the Demeter table tells them to ‘save it for the campfire’, but it does nothing to deter the Apollo kids. Virgil catches Roman laughing as he sings, one of his sibling’s arms slung around his shoulders.

Virgil glances over and sees Logan at the Athena table sitting next to Janus, watching the chaos unfold and the faintest quirk of his lips betray his amusement.

Virgil feels some of the tension in his chest relax just a little.

…

The bonfire starts around dusk. Virgil is making his way to the amphitheater from dropping supplies off at the cabin when Roman comes up from behind him and loops his arm through Virgil’s, chattering excitedly about how much he loved this part of camp. Virgil sees an ukulele case slung around his shoulder.

Logan appears a second later on the other side of Virgil, commenting dryly that the Apollo kids had done their vocal warm-ups during the dinner. This only served to lead Roman to do actual vocal warm-ups—trills and scales, specifically—as they walked. Patton and Janus were already sitting down, three rows back. Patton waves when he sees them file in. Remus is sitting beside Janus, seemingly trying to goad him into some kind of competition that he was having no interest in. The firelight glints of Janus’s scales.

“Hey,” Virgil says to Roman and Logan. “Can… I ask what happened to Janus?” He immediately regrets the question, cursing his lack of a filter, but neither of the other boys seem perturbed by the question.

“A curse from Aphrodite,” Logan answers. “Janus had gone on a quest for our mother, and it led to some… unsavory tension between himself and Aphrodite. From what he’s told me, he accused Ares of being a snake in the grass while in the presence of Aphrodite, and… well. The love goddess didn’t take kindly to that. But it’s purely cosmetic.”

Virgil arcs an eyebrow. “Remus seems chill with him.”

“I’m not sure that Remus is aware of the accusation Janus leveled at his father,” Logan muses. “And Janus is not one to hold the children accountable for the actions of their godly parent.”

“It doesn’t benefit him,” Roman adds in, using his free hand for air quotes. “Or something like that. Janus is all about himself and how he can improve his own standing.”

“Sounds like someone else I know,” Logan quips dryly.

Roman scoffs, but when Virgil looks at him, there’s a teasing glint to his eyes. “Well, I wasn’t going to say it, but you guys are half-brothers for a reason.”

Logan looks at Roman over the top of his glasses, but Roman just shoots him a cheeky smile as they approach the other three. Virgil slides into the seat beside Patton, followed by Logan and then Roman. There’s a few kids—Virgil isn’t sure what cabin they’re from—trying to lead a call-and-response chant as campers file in. Down the row, Remus enthusiastically calls out the responses at the top of his lungs.

“Roman!” A new voice calls out from the end of their row. A tall guy, a couple of years older than them, is holding a ukulele and jerking his head down towards the bonfire. “You ready to help me kick this thing off?”

Roman grins and jumps up. “Would be an honor, Thomas.” He rushes off and he and Thomas start playing a song together with practiced ease. He and the other Apollo kids start singing, and before long the vast majority of campers are joining in. A few of them, including Patton, sway a little. Virgil doesn’t sing, but he listens and tries to remember the words.

The sky grows dark. The Apollo kids eventually cede the floor to some Ares kids who start up another chant. More songs are sung, some snacks get passed around, and Virgil is starting to think that maybe, with time, he could get used to this.

“Oh! I almost forgot!” Patton says beside him, as the next song starts. He drops something into Virgil’s lap. “I got this for ya.”

Virgil looks down. It’s two camp t-shirts. The black winged horse and the Camp Half-Blood print stares up at him. He looks over at Patton.

Patton just smiles. “Claimed or not, you’re one of us. We claim you.”

Virgil feels like maybe that’s good enough for him.

[bevioletskies]

spare me a little (of your love)

summary: Klavier always liked to express his love with flowers, so sending a beautiful bouquet to his boyfriend every now and then seemed like the obvious thing to do. However, there’s just one little problem - Apollo is very, very allergic to pollen.

word count: 5.3k | read on ao3

a/n: For @klapollo-week, day two of seven (prompt: "flowers"). All seven of my fics take place in the same continuity! However, each can be read as a stand-alone, with the exception of day seven being a sequel to day five.

This fic takes place at some distant point in time after Spirit of Justice where Apollo and Trucy have learned that they’re siblings, but doesn’t reference any specific plotlines otherwise. My source for flower meanings can be found here. Fic title is from the song Spare Me a Little of Your Love by Fleetwood Mac.

“The language of...flowers?”

“Oui, oui, mon ami!” Athena chirped, nodding eagerly. “That’s just one of the many languages I speak, y’know.”

Apollo eyed her skeptically over the top of his laptop screen. “...right. Elaborate, please.”

“Well, you know how people usually give roses to express their love?” Athena said, leaning across the gap between their desks. She didn’t even blink when she accidentally knocked over Apollo’s calendar and pen holder in one fell swoop. Apollo, on the other hand, shot her an affronted glance that she deftly ignored. “Well, each flower actually has its own specific meaning. It even varies from color to color! Par exemple, white roses symbolize innocence, while yellow roses symbolize friendship.”

“That seems unnecessarily complicated,” Apollo remarked. “Don’t most flowers come with a card? Why can’t people just write their messages instead?”

They turned at the sound of a disappointed groan coming from the middle of the room. “You’re so unromantic, Polly,” Trucy complained, peeking at them from over the back of the couch. “I almost feel bad for Mr. Gavin!”

“Hey,” Apollo protested. “I can be - I-I’m romantic!”

“If you say so,” Athena giggled, poking him in the shoulder. Huffing, Apollo prodded her back. Athena reached for a rubber band, fully intending to escalate things. She lowered her projectile dejectedly when Apollo raised his hands in surrender; he had no interest in losing an eye today.

“Sunflowers and tulips are supposed to symbolize happiness, right?” Phoenix asked. “Those are pretty much the only flowers I really know, so.”

There was a long, uncomfortably drawn-out silence. “...Daddy, your ex-girlfriend’s name was Dahlia. Her real name was - is - Iris.”

“Oh...right,” Phoenix chuckled, only mildly embarrassed. “Speaking of, do you know what dahlias and irises mean, Athena?”

Athena’s eyes were practically sparkling now. “Oui! Dahlias symbolize elegance and dignity.” Phoenix made a face. “...but, they also symbolize dishonesty and betrayal.”

“That’s more like it,” Phoenix muttered under his breath. “And irises?”

“Faith, wisdom, that kinda thing,” Athena shrugged. She then paused. “Y’know, if you want some ideas on the kinds of flowers Mr. Edgeworth would like, I can make some - ”

“Nope, nope, I-I’m good,” Phoenix interrupted swiftly, his face reddening. He had a vase of daffodils sitting on his desk, which Edgeworth had sent to the office a few days ago. None of them believed Phoenix when he claimed they were purely intended for decoration. “So why the sudden interest in flowers, Apollo? Is this, er...is this about Gavin?”

“If you’re not talking about your prosecutor, sir, I’m not talking about mine,” Apollo said firmly, turning back to his laptop.

“Sure, except I think your prosecutor’s fair game when he picks you up from work most days,” Phoenix teased. His tone was eerily similar to Trucy’s. If Phoenix wasn’t both his boss and his sort-of stepfather, Apollo would’ve picked up a rubber band himself.

A few hours later, Apollo was locking up the office for the evening when he heard the roar of a familiar-sounding motorcycle coming up the street. He turned, biting back a smile as Klavier pulled up beside the sidewalk and turned off his engine. “Your bike really is as obnoxious as you are.”

Klavier removed his helmet, pouting. “Achtung, is that any way to greet your boyfriend?”

“It is for me,” Apollo replied, kissing him briefly. “Hi.”

“Hallo,” Klavier murmured against Apollo’s lips, grinning as he pulled away. “Dinner?”

“Yes, please,” Apollo said, reaching for Klavier’s spare helmet. “I’m feeling...pizza and all the cheesy garlic breadsticks. Or maybe we can just get cheesy garlic breadsticks.”

“As nice as that sounds, you need more vegetables than the little bits you get in your cup noodles, baby,” Klavier said, patting Apollo’s hip affectionately. “Pizza, breadsticks, and a side salad, ja?”

“Fine, fine,” Apollo grumbled, settling in behind Klavier. “Turn me into a rabbit, why don’t you? Buy me a bag of carrot sticks the next time we go to the grocery store. Stuff my mattress with straw and newspaper - ”

“And people think I’m the dramatic one,” Klavier lamented, shaking his head in amusement.

It wasn’t long before the two of them were sitting on the floor of Klavier’s living room, pleasantly stuffed with pizza and breadsticks and a mediocre amount of Greek salad (“I’m not a fan of olives, you know.” “Not surprising, since the color doesn’t work with your complexion.” “Klavier, I swear to - ”). A random made-for-TV movie was playing in the background on mute, though neither of them were particularly interested in watching it.

“How was work?” Apollo asked, taking a much-needed gulp of cold water. He wasn’t sure if he was ever going to get the taste of garlic out of his mouth.

“Boring, unfortunately,” Klavier said with a grimace. “Herr Edgeworth didn’t have anything but paperwork to offer me. No trials, no investigations, nichts. You?”

“Same,” Apollo replied. “Mr. Wright’s mostly working with Athena this month, so they’re taking the big clients while I get stuck with the smaller cases. Not that I’m complaining, I mean - it’s a nice change from Khura’in. I don’t want every trial to feel like I’m going under, you know?”

“Nein, that would be terrible,” Klavier agreed. “Exciting, sure, but the stress wouldn’t be worth it. I already found a gray hair the other day, ach.”

Apollo snorted. “Just one? You should see mine - I’m gonna be completely gray by thirty-five at this rate.” He shuffled closer so he could snuggle up against Klavier’s side, letting his head drop to Klavier’s shoulder. “So...turns out, Athena knows all about the flower language thing. Figured she might.”

“Flower...language...thing?” Klavier echoed, confused. He then brightened. “Ah! From our video call with my mama the other day, ja? I didn’t know you were actually interested.”

“I wasn’t, not at first,” Apollo admitted, squeezing Klavier’s arm. “But...I want your parents to like me, and since she said she was taking an interest, I thought, y’know, why not look into it? And it sounds kinda...contrived, not gonna lie. But I guess it’s kinda sweet, too. Like a secret language between just two people.”

Klavier’s face softened. “Ja, exactly. My parents used to write love letters to each other when they were in school, so I think this is Mama’s way of starting a new tradition - buying Papa flowers so he can plant them in his garden. You should see our family estate in the summer, it’s absolutely stunning.”

“Sounds like it,” Apollo said, smiling. “Your parents’ lives sound so...peaceful. Baking, gardening, travelling...I know it’s a little early to start thinking about retirement, but still, they’re living the dream.”

“They’re not retired yet,” Klavier chuckled. “And stop making me feel like I’m dating an old man, bitte. You complaining about your back makes me feel like I have to start complaining about my back.”

Apollo hummed, tracing random patterns along Klavier’s forearm with his finger. He was pleasantly sleepy from a number of things - his long, if uneventful day of work, the amount of cheese and carbs he’d just consumed, and the warmth of Klavier’s skin against his. “Sorry we can’t all afford chiropractors and massage therapists, sheesh,” he teased, unable to hold back a yawn.

“Maybe we can get a massage together someday,” Klavier suggested, stretching luxuriously. “Ah, before I forget - since we were talking about my parents just now, they asked me the other day if it would be alright to text you and send you things, little gifts and whatnot.”

“Huh? They would do that?” Apollo exclaimed. “I only just met them, like, a week ago!”

“They’re a bit...much,” Klavier said carefully. “Even when I was in high school, every friend I brought home was a potential lover to them, you know? They wanted to know everything about them, to shower them with gifts and affection. Even when I started working, I would ask Papa if I could have some flowers from his garden - you know, an arrangement to thank Herr Edgeworth for giving me a raise, a bouquet for my manager when we got our first record deal - and it was always the same story. Achtung, it’s embarrassing, but they mean well. You don’t have to say ja if you don’t want to, I just thought I’d ask.”

“No, I - it’s okay, I’d love to get to know your parents more, I’m just surprised,” Apollo admitted. The thought of them liking him this easily made him both relieved and unnerved at the same time. “Should I, uh, get them something in return?”

“Nein, nein, let them spoil you.” Klavier cupped Apollo’s face in his hands, kissing him softly. “Just like I do.”

“Sap,” Apollo murmured, kissing him back.

_____

It was a sort of gradual thing, for the most part. Barely a day had gone by when Apollo found himself in a group text with Klavier’s parents; he quickly discovered how witty and sweet and whip-smart they both were. Klavier’s father sent gorgeous photos of his garden - and calling it a garden seemed almost too modest when it seemed to be the size of a soccer field - while Klavier’s mother sent book recommendations, even the occasional movie recommendation.

“I never thought I’d be at that point in my life where my boyfriend’s mother sends me three long paragraphs about how she ‘discovered’ the Legally Blonde musical, but here we are,” Apollo had mused to the other agency members.

“Did you tell her that Klavier reminds everyone of that song, the one that goes - ”

“No, Athena, I did not. I want her to like me, remember?”

Soon after that, gifts started to arrive. Apollo had requested they send them to the agency, given how little he trusted his apartment building’s security after they nearly let his cat escape not too long ago. Unfortunately, it was too late before he realized that sometimes, he trusted his co-workers - or more specifically, his sister - even less.

“Trucy, do you know who ate the last piece of pie? Y’know, the one I was saving for today, to celebrate the end of my trial?”

“...huh. No idea, sorry, Polly!”

“Wait - th-there’s graham crumbs on Mr. Hat, what the hell - ”

His sister’s betrayal aside, Apollo felt good about things, almost unusually good. He soon started texting Klavier’s parents just as frequently as he did his own mother, thanking them for their generosity whenever they sent the occasional box of pastries or discounted event tickets. They also exchanged anecdotes about Klavier, along with stories about their own lives. He even received celebratory emojis whenever he told them about his victories in court - over their son, no less.

“I’m starting to think they like you more than they like me,” Klavier had lamented, though he seemed pleased all the same.

Then, a month into their budding familial relationship, a problem arrived on Apollo’s desk in the form of a bouquet the size of his head.

“Ah-choo!”

Trucy and Athena, who had been standing by the latter’s desk, both startled at the sound. “Ay Dios mío!” Athena exclaimed, clutching her heart in shock. “Are you okay, Apollo? That was some sneeze. I thought we were having another earthquake!”

“Har, har,” Apollo said dryly, reaching for a tissue. “It’s just the - achoo - flowers, that’s all.”

“They’re beautiful - very classic,” Athena added, dropping into Apollo’s desk chair so she could get a closer look. “Red roses and white lilies, claro. Ooh, I see some red carnations and white chrysanthemums, too!”

“Well, I see a card,” Trucy said, plucking a small white notecard from between the leaves. “Let’s see what it says!”

“That’s for - achoo - me, thank you very much.” Apollo snatched the card out of her hands, then squinted through his watery eyes to read it. “I...oh. Klavier says his mom helped him make the arrangement, with flowers from his dad’s garden.”

“How sweet!” Trucy gushed, taking a moment to sniff them, inhaling deeply as her eyes drifted closed. “Ooh, and they smell amazing. Mr. Gavin is such a good - ”

“Ah-choo!” Apollo sniffled, wiping his nose carefully. “...dammit.”

“I didn’t know you were allergic to pollen, Apollo,” Phoenix commented; he was on the other side of the room, pouring himself a cup of tea. “You never had any problems with the flowers Edgeworth sent to m - I mean, to the office.”

“Maybe it’s a freshly-cut thing?” Athena guessed, ignoring Phoenix’s awkward laugh. “Or, y’know, some flowers are worse for allergies than others. Dahlias, for example, are the worst.” Phoenix made another face before turning back to what he was doing.

“You should tell him you’re allergic,” Trucy said, patting Apollo’s free hand in sympathy. “I’m sure he’d understand.”

“But…” Apollo hesitated. The others braced themselves, anticipating another sneeze. “...this is from Klavier and his parents, you know? I can put up with a sneeze or two if it makes them happy. He loves sending flowers, and his dad’s really into gardening, so...if I tell them, they’ll stop doing it, and they’ll be too understanding, and I - I can’t deal with that. The, uh, the niceness, I mean.”

“Poor you, having the sweetest in-laws in the world,” Athena teased, pouting exaggeratedly. Oh, the humanity, Widget added. Apollo would have glared at them both, had he not started sneezing again. “Como tú quieras, I guess.”

Hours later, when Klavier met Apollo at the agency, the sight of his face brightening when he saw the bouquet confirmed Apollo’s fears. “Ah, how wunderschön,” Klavier declared, beaming. “I was worried they wouldn’t hold up during delivery. Do you like them, liebe?”

“They’re beautiful,” Apollo said, as honest as he could be. “Thanks, Klavier. I, uh, I hope it didn’t take you too long to put together.”

“You know how picky I can be,” Klavier hummed, carefully drawing a carnation out of the vase between two practiced fingers and bringing it up to his nose to smell. “I don’t settle for anything less than perfekt.” He turned, smirking. “That’s why I’m dating you, after all.”

“Gross,” Apollo said, wrinkling his nose; the effect was ruined by his affectionate laughter. “Hey, is it okay if I press them after they’ve wilted? I was thinking I could keep ‘em in my journal as a nice little reminder.”

Klavier chuckled, reaching over to squeeze Apollo’s hand. “Of course, Forehead. They’re all yours, you don’t have to ask for my permission. And I’m sure Mama and Papa would be delighted to hear you’re planning to give Papa’s flowers a second life. We’ll have to send you more in the future, ja?”

“...ja,” Apollo said weakly, his heart sinking.

_____

The next bouquet arrived two weeks later, bigger and bolder than before. According to Athena, it consisted of pink and orange roses, pink lilies, and yellow alstroemeria. However, it seemed to be the handful of sunflowers that topped everything off that left Apollo’s nose running all day.

“I think the only sunflower I can stand to be around is my attorney’s badge,” Apollo had bemoaned.

After that came an arrangement of white daisies, red gerbera, and white limonium (or, as Trucy liked to call it - she liked practicing tongue twisters when she was bored - “linoleum”). Then green hydrangeas and Queen Anne’s lace, which admittedly wasn't so bad, followed by purple daisies and pink gerbera, which was very, very bad. Apollo did not like the fact that he was getting used to the taste of Benadryl. He did manage to get some reprieve when Klavier sent him a simple vase of pink peonies.

“They’re hypoallergenic,” Athena had informed him. “But...mein Gott, Apollo, just tell him already!”

“But if I do, i-it’s…” Apollo had gestured wildly, unable to find the right words. Athena and Trucy had exchanged glances, then shook their heads in eerily synchronized disappointment.

Pink carnations and pink alstroemeria, purple irises and white aster, yellow daisies and orange roses; Apollo was starting to think the Gavin family garden was endless. And while his journal had never looked prettier, every page decorated with carefully pressed petals, every other page detailed with a date and a description courtesy of Athena’s expertise, his nose had never looked worse, his skin pink and dry and irritated. He was getting too used to the smell of CeraVe as well.

Finally, a bouquet of red roses - thankfully, also hypoallergenic - arrived with Klavier himself. He seemed delighted to be at the agency while everyone else was present for once, chatting happily with Athena and marvelling at Trucy’s card tricks. He and Phoenix seemed awkward around each other, though Apollo supposed that was to be expected. Even now, they hesitated whenever Apollo brought the other one up.

“So what’re you doing here, Mr. Gavin?” Trucy asked after she’d successfully duped him three times in a row. Apollo had to stop her before she started charging him for it. “Is it date night?”

“Not exactly,” Klavier said, turning to Apollo. “I came here to ask you something in person, liebe.”

Apollo raised an eyebrow. “Well, that’s not suspicious at all. What’s up?”

“I think it’s about time you meet my parents in person.” Klavier took both of Apollo’s hands in his, smiling hopefully. “So, if you’re ready...are you free this weekend? We could go to my family estate, spend the day - Mama would love to teach you how to make those puff pastries you like, and Papa wants to show you around the garden so you can see where all your wunderschön flowers came from.”

“I...oh.” Apollo’s face fell for a split second before he quickly regained his composure. “Sorry, Klav, that sounds incredible, but I-I was gonna stay with Mom this weekend. Maybe another time?”

“Natürlich,” Klavier replied, still smiling. While his smiles usually made Apollo feel warm and fuzzy, now all he was feeling was gnawing guilt. “Let me know when you have a free weekend, ja?”

“For sure,” Apollo promised, pecking him briefly on the cheek. “And thanks for the roses, even though I, uh, kinda ruined the occasion.”

“Ruined?” Klavier repeated, chuckling. “Ach, it’s no big deal, you’re busy. We have time, don’t we?”

“Of course!” Apollo exclaimed, far too loudly. Klavier didn’t seem to mind, though; he leaned down to kiss Apollo properly, humming all the while.

“Anyway, I should get going before Herr Edgeworth notices I’m not in my office,” Klavier said, reluctantly pulling away. The look on Phoenix's face suggested he knew that Edgeworth had figured it out long ago. “Auf Wiedersehen, süßer!”

The second Klavier left, Apollo let out the breath he’d been holding. He didn’t even need to look up to know the others were staring at him very judgmentally. “...I don’t wanna hear it.”

“You really shouldn’t lie to your boyfriend, Apollo,” Phoenix said gently; his voice had taken on the sort of “dad” tone that made Apollo feel even guiltier. “Er, that is, you shouldn’t lie to anyone, but you know what I mean. Are you really protecting his feelings by doing this?”

Sighing, Apollo collapsed into his desk chair, dropping his forehead to his desk with an audible thunk. “I know, I know. It was stupid from the start, but...I-I honestly wasn’t expecting him to send this many! I thought it’d be, y’know, for special occasions only, like every few months or whatever. Then I could deal with it, and he would never have to know. Not, like, just ‘cos he felt like it. Though I guess I really should’ve seen it coming, knowing him.”

“You really gotta tell him,” Trucy insisted. “Next time you see him, okay? Or else you’re never gonna say anything!”

“I will, I swear,” Apollo insisted, combing his fingers through his hair. He could feel more grays coming in by the second. “I have no interest in being the worst boyfriend ever, believe me.”

_____

It didn’t take long for Apollo to realize that while he was perfectly fine - or, at least, reasonably fine - with confrontation in the courtroom, he was very much not fine with confrontation in his personal life. The flower arrangements came less frequently now, and when they did, they seemed to be exclusively hypoallergenic. Klavier’s invitations, on the other hand, seemed more persistent.

“I don’t mean to push,” Klavier would say. “It’s just that exam week is coming up and, being professors and all, they’re going to be very busy soon. I was hoping we’d be able to spend some time with them before then.”

“Yeah, o-of course,” Apollo would reply, his stomach twisting every time, knowing full well he was about to turn him down again.

Another weekend went by, then another. There always seemed to be something, whether it was Apollo’s sudden frequent visits to Thalassa’s, Trucy’s sudden need for a magic show assistant, or that Apollo was just too tired to be good company. Eventually, Klavier seemed to simply stop asking. In fact, he seemed to stop asking him about anything at all.

“Do you wanna grab lunch?” Apollo had once asked Klavier while they were both packing up after the end of a lengthy trial.

“I don’t know.” Klavier had sounded tired, subdued; he refused to look Apollo in the eyes. “I think I’m just going to head back to the office and catch up on my emails. Take care, Herr Forehead.” He’d quickly swept out of the courtroom before Apollo could even say goodbye.

Apollo’s group text with his parents seemed to slow down, too, especially when it came to Klavier’s papa’s photos of his garden. Klavier’s mama, on the other hand, sent him short, stilted messages, now seemingly out of obligation instead of affection. Their near-radio silence, Apollo had to admit, was well-deserved. He knew he had to do something before it was too late, if it wasn’t already too late.

“I was surprised you wanted me to join you today,” Klavier said one morning as the two of them were taking a leisurely stroll around People Park, hand-in-hand. “Lately, I feel like I’ve been dating a ghost, achtung. We only ever see each other in court. Maybe at crime scenes, too, if we’re lucky.”

“And I’m surprised you agreed to come,” Apollo admitted. “I missed you, Klavier. Only...I, uh, I know that’s really my fault, not yours.”

“You do, do you?” Klavier sounded bitter. His grip on Apollo’s hand was looser than usual, like he was ready to pull away at any second, like he wanted to run. The thought made Apollo’s chest ache. “And here, I thought you were as oblivious as ever.”

“Hey,” Apollo protested, frowning. Then, he sighed. “No, you - you’re right. This is on me. Will you - I - listen, I have something for you, back at the office. Can we go get it before you head to work?”

Klavier nodded shortly. While his eyes had softened, his smile was still strained. “Ja, let’s go.”

Thankfully, the agency was empty when they got there, save for a certain something sitting patiently on Apollo’s desk. He set his bag down, then turned on all the lights, his heart pounding rapidly against his ribcage. “So these aren’t as nice as your dad’s, but, uh. This is for you...and your parents.”

“What do you - ah!” Klavier approached Apollo’s desk with wide, disbelieving eyes, his gaze fixated on the beautiful arrangement of white lilies, yellow tulips, and white orchids wrapped in white decorative tissue paper. “Apollo, these are...they’re lovely! Did you pick these out yourself?”

“Athena helped,” Apollo said, hovering nervously. “She said white lilies are for humility, yellow tulips can mean forgiveness, and white orchids symbolize strength. Fitting, since I wanted to...apologize. For being a horrible boyfriend.”

“I don’t know about ‘horrible’,” Klavier said, gently running a finger down the length of one of the orchids. “...but you have been distant. If you’re not actually interested in meeting my parents, or if you...if you want to end things, just say so, will you?” His voice cracked. “I might like a bit of drama every now and then, but not in my own life. Not in my own relationship.”

“What?! No, no, I-I don’t wanna end things at all!” Apollo exclaimed, his voice filling the room. He took a few deep, even breaths to calm himself. “Just...will you hear me out? Please?” Klavier nodded, though he refused to look at him. “I’m...I’m sorry for avoiding you and your parents. And before you ask...yes. I was doing it on purpose. It’s nothing that - none of you did anything wrong, okay? It’s me, i-it’s - it - I - ah - ”

Klavier turned on his heel, worried. “Apollo? Are you - ”

“Ah-choo!”

Klavier jumped. “Ach - Apollo?”

“I forgot there were asters in there,” Apollo grumbled, reaching for a tissue. He wasn’t sure which was redder now, his nose or his cheeks. “It’s - I - achoo - ”

“Apollo,” Klavier said slowly; if Apollo didn’t know any better, he would've thought he was trying not to laugh. “Are you, by chance...allergic to pollen?”

Apollo sniffed sharply. “...yes, dammit, yes! That’s literally what I’ve been trying to say - achoo - just now, until - achoo - my sinuses decided to - achoo - speak for me!” He was half-doubled over at this point, clenching a fistful of tissues in both hands.

“Baby, have you been rejecting my invitation to meet my parents because you’re allergic to all the flowers we’ve been sending you for the last several weeks?” Klavier sounded more incredulous than angry.

“...yes. Yes, I have, yes, I’m an idiot and an asshole and - achoo - I’m so sorry, Klavier, I - achoo - ”

“Bitte, say it, don’t spray it.” Klavier held up Apollo’s tissue box for him, keeping it - and Apollo himself - at a good distance. “Mein Gott, Apollo, I thought you wanted to break up with me! Why didn’t you say anything earlier?!”

It took another minute or so before Apollo finally stopped sneezing long enough to get a full sentence out. He sniffled again, wiping his nose completely clean. “...have you ever told, like, the tiniest lie to make someone happy, only for it to turn into a big...thing? And then you know you have to come clean, that it’s what you’re s’posed to do, but the thought of doing it makes you anxious, even if not doing it also makes you anxious, and then...it just...it, uh, it stays with you.” He swallowed thickly, shaking his head. “Not that that’s an excuse, it’s just - that’s just what happened. I’m sorry, Klavier, I really am. I really do want to meet your parents, they’re so sweet and friendly a-and funny, I’m just...I’m bad at this. Really, really bad at this.”

Klavier sighed. Apollo held his breath, anticipating the worst. Then, Klavier wrapped him in his arms, letting out another sigh of relief. “I understand, liebe, and...I forgive you. Danke for explaining yourself.” He kissed the top of Apollo’s head. “Maybe we should’ve stuck to sending you pies, ja?”

Apollo laughed wetly. “I don’t know how you’re joking right now. That’s usually my job.” He lifted his head from Klavier’s chest to look up at him with a grateful smile. “I really did love the flowers, you know. When they weren’t attacking my respiratory system, that is.”

“Still, let’s not push it any further,” Klavier said wryly. “Now - two things, if you don’t mind. First, let me give you some moisturizer for your poor, poor nose. I’m not kissing you until I’m sure your skin won’t flake off in the process.”

“Ew, thanks for the gross visual,” Apollo grimaced. “And the second thing?”

Klavier smiled. “If you're alright with it, I’d like you to tell my parents what happened...in person.”

_____

The garden was just as beautiful as Apollo imagined it to be, given the dozens and dozens of photos he’d gotten from Klavier’s papa. It was full and lush and vibrant, with towering trees that provided ample shade, a beautiful gazebo with a built-in fireplace, a gorgeous two-tiered fish pond, and of course, a plethora of flowers, as far as they could see. Everything was especially beautiful, in Apollo’s opinion, from the relative safety of the conservatory.

“We’re not throwing you to the wolves, darling,” Klavier’s mama insisted, as if she were talking about actual wild animals and not her husband’s hobby. “We’ll stay in here for high tea so you can admire the garden at a safe distance, yes?”

“Yes, th-thank you,” Apollo stammered, relieved. “High tea?”

“Today’s menu is German chocolate scones and mini-sandwiches. With the crusts cut off for my fussy baby boy, of course,” she added, pinching Klavier’s cheek with a devious grin.

“Mama,” Klavier protested, embarrassed. His papa chuckled, settling into the chair across from his son; he still had a smudge of dirt on his nose. “I’m a grown man, achtung. I have my own health insurance and everything!”

“I really am sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Gavin,” Apollo said sincerely. Despite their kindness and generosity, he was still somewhat intimidated by them, by how tall and beautiful and well-spoken they were. As much as he didn’t want to think about his former boss, Apollo could see where he and Klavier got their good looks and charm from. “I wanted to make a good impression, but I, uh, I didn’t go about it the right way. I’ve been wanting to meet you for a while now, but...I kept it from happening for a dumb reason, and it led to me hurting your feelings and Klavier’s feelings. I’m sorry.”

“All is forgiven,” Klavier’s papa insisted, waving a hand. “Just promise you’ll stop by every now and then, alright? Our doors are open to you, Apollo. Consider us your parents, too, if you’d like.”

Apollo smiled softly. “I would, sir.”

“It’ll be a good, allergy-free time, I promise,” he continued with a teasing wink. “We’ll bake some bread, watch some home movies...are you interested in seeing - ach, what do the kids call it - Klavier’s ‘goth phase’?”

Apollo’s mouth dropped open. “...his what.”

“Papa, nein,” Klavier whined; he really did sound like a child now. “Maybe it was a mistake to bring you here, liebling.”

“Oh, I disagree,” Apollo said, his grin widening. “I would love to see Klavier’s goth phase. Did he dye his hair?”

“Oh, did he,” Klavier’s mama said slyly with the exasperated sigh of a parent who had dealt with too much. “It’s a miracle he managed to get back to blond at all.” She then got to her feet, smoothing out the front of her apron. “Anyway, Papa and I should go check on the scones now. You two sit tight, okay?” Before Apollo could blink, she’d dropped kisses on both his and Klavier’s foreheads, then disappeared down the hallway and into the kitchen, her husband in tow. He turned to look at Klavier, who was watching him nervously.

“I love them,” Apollo admitted. “They’re so sweet, Klav, they - stop looking at me like that, will you?”

“You can’t blame me for worrying,” Klavier said, kissing him briefly. “But I’m glad to hear it. Ich liebe dich, schatz.”

“Love you too, dork,” Apollo murmured against Klavier’s lips. “...so. Did you have a lip ring, or snake bites, or - ”

“Get out of my house,” Klavier huffed, pinching Apollo’s arm with an exaggerated pout.

“Hey! This isn’t your house, it’s your parents’ house, and they said their doors were open,” Apollo teased, laughing. Rolling his eyes, Klavier pulled Apollo into his arms, the two of them snuggled up on the loveseat. In the distance, they could see birds and butterflies fluttering among the flowers, a stray squirrel or two sniffing curiously at the edge of the fish pond. It was peaceful, serene. If it wasn't for the pollen, Apollo could see himself staying outside for hours at a time. “...but seriously, I’m looking forward to the video evidence.”

“I’m sure you are,” Klavier sighed, giving Apollo one last kiss before his parents returned with a large tray of sandwiches, scones, tea, and a vase with a single red rose for decoration - hypoallergenic, of course.

_____

a/n: Welcome to my second entry for Klapollo Week 2021! Continuity-wise, this is the fourth of seven fics, but again, there is no need to read the others to follow each fic on its own. Today, I have projected my allergies and anxiety onto Apollo, because that's what fanfiction is for, right? I hope y'all like my version of the Gavins; I've written them as cold and distant a couple of times, but I usually prefer to write them as warm and witty so that Klavier has a good support system in his life.

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Likes and reblogs would be much appreciated. Hoping you're all safe and healthy and doing well ❤️

[sweetxcharming]

Mommy!Calypso small fic (it is influenced by "Experiment on me", "Hurricane" and "Control" - Halsey)

⚠️Warning: sensitive themes, like baby loss, are explicitly showed. If it makes you feel bad, I recommend you not to read. Thank you.

Basic informations first:

Calypso is, in The Odissey, a mother. She have, with Odisseus, 3 boys. This is important;

None of her kids is mentioned by Rick. So, basically, they could easily be taken by Odisseus when he got away;

Following this idea, Calypso already lost 3 kids by the next events

"Calypso had a kid. A baby boy. Hers and Leo's. Sitting on that sofa, late at night, she just couldn't believe that she was a mother once again.

'He's pretty cute, hum?' Leo looked at his baby, named Miguel. 'He have your eyes'

'But he's a mini-you, after all' She stared at that child wrapped around a cover she herself had made. The bit of curled hair on Miguel's head, a bit lighter than his father's. But the same small nose, the same lips, not as full as hers, the same pointy ears. 'He's perfect'

'He sure is.' The demigod looked at his girlfriend and Calypso returned the stare.

She knew she wasn't 100%; she felt her hair in a loose lace, the front on her eyes. The white dress had some stains; near her breasts, down her womb. Some of milk, some of blood, some of liquids she was still putting out. She wanted to go and take another shower, but right now that wasn't important.

Her boy was.

'Hey guys, how you doi--' The couple raised their looks at the TV room's door. Apollo, with Lityerses and Jo by each of his side, stopped instantly when he saw the kid sleeping in Calypso's arms. 'What is this?'

'He's here.' Leo smiled, getting up and closer to the god. 'He finally is bor--'

'You knew it?' Apollo interrupted Leo, looking at Calypso. 'You... You knew it?'

Calypso didn't responded. She just wrapped her baby closer to her chest. Leo looked at her, then at Apollo. Jo seamed to notice something wrong, but Lit was still a bit confused.

'Of course she did?' Leo answered, letting out a dry chuckle and raising his hands, pointing at the two people behind him. 'She... Pushed him out. For, like, hours. How can she not know he was born--'

'Leo, stop' Calypso murmured.

'I'm not talking about the birth' Apollo was different. He was rude, in defensive; scared. 'I'm talking bout what was birthed--'

'My son' Calypso answered, not looking up. 'I gave birth to my son--'

'THIS IS A TITAN!' The sun god screamed, pointing with his arms in Calypso and Miguel's directions. 'THIS IS THE PROBLEM! A TITAN!'

'A... Titan?' Leo looked confused. He stared at the nymph with the baby. She looked smaller. 'H-how?'

'How you think?' Apollo sounded a bit ironic. 'Have never passed your mind that, maybe, a goddess and a demigod could have a... Devine baby? I thought you were good at maths'

'But... She's a mortal' Leo chuckle again, searching for something realistic. 'She's not a goddess anymore'

'A nymph is still a type of goddess.' Jo said. She was now in the middle of the room, maybe to stop anything that could start. 'A mortal kind. And... Calypso is a titan. A titan nymph, a titan mortal goddess'

'And you knew that?' He stared at his foster mom, turning to Calypso. 'Do you... Knew it could happen?'

'I knew' Calypso spoke, her voice cracked, her head down. Her face wasn't visible. 'I knew it was happening inside me. I knew it.'

'Why... Didn't you tell me?' Leo didn't sounded mad. He stepped down on his knees, holding her face with his both hands. 'Why you didn't told me bout our baby? I wouldn't be mad or anything. I just... It doesn't make sense to me.'

'I didn't wanted to loose another baby' She murmured, almost impossible to understand. 'I didn't wanted him to be taken too...'

Leo didn't responded. He hugged her, taking care with his son's small body. He knew bout Calypso's past. She told him, it were on books. It was just different to see all that baggage reflecting on her for the first big time.

'That's okay, that's okay, I'm here, no one is taking our baby away...'

'I wouldn't be that sure...' Apollo said, walking into the nearest chair and sitting.

Calypso raised her eyes, fear on them. She just couldn't believe she heared it.

'What?' She moved on her place, making Leo get a sit by her side, ready to take the baby from her hands. 'What do you mean by that?'

'My father can be scared of him.' He pointed to Miguel. 'He could send some gods to take this new titan. Just to don't risk anythi--'

'He's a baby.' Calypso gave her son to Leo, who wrapped him and held close to his chest, like Calypso had done. Jo walked in his direction while the nymph stood up. 'What ~risk~ he could mean to Zeus?'

'I--I mean' Apollo stuttered. 'Not that I follow his mind or his ideas--'

'You sound very hypocritical while saying that right after screaming at my baby, his father and me'

'Well, I was scared!' The god sunk on to the chair, raising his hands. The air around Calypso looked heavier, more visible. 'It is a titan, after all! Titans normally wants to kill me!'

'A baby! Do you know what it means?' She got closer. Calypso just wasn't open to acceptance. She didn't wanted to know. One hand raised in Apollo's direction, to other strongly closed. 'You were scared by a... Sleeping baby?! How can that scary Zeus?!'

Apollo got up, taking a few steps back.

'Calypso, calm down--'

'NO!' She screamed. Wind spirits rushing all around. Calypso could her Jo asking her to stop and Lityerses calling Apollo. 'YOU WILL NOT TAKE MY BABY FROM ME AGAIN! I WON'T LET YOU OR YOUR FATHER DO IT!'

'OKAY!' Apollo told her back, raising his hands. The wind slowed down and Calypso started to feel tired. 'Okay, Calypso, okay, o one will take your baby--'

'Promise. Promises me' She asked, looking straight into his eyes. 'Swear for my sister's name; swear for the River Stynx'

'I-I swear for the River Stynx' He answered. 'Gods, Calypso, I-I'm sorry, but don't do it again. Please'

She stopped, her mind coming back to normal. She looked around: everything was a mess. People were scared of the fight, scared of her. Calypso felt her legs trembling, her body getting tired, her mind running out, her vison getting dark.

Her body falling down.

She woke up clean, in her bedroom's bed. Leo was by her side, holding Miguel and singing some lullaby she didn't recognized.

'What?...'

'Good morning, Sunshine' Leo smiled at her.

'W-what happened?' She tried to get up, being stopped by a strong headache. 'Ouch! My head hurts. Leo, what happened to me? I... Had some type of... Fight with Apollo, I remember that. But... How did I got here?'

'Me, Jo and Emmie took you here.' He changed his arms that where holding the baby, shaking from one side to the other. 'They cleaned you, changed you. I took care of this little buddy and you all the time after the shower. Are you okay now?'

Calypso lookd at the sheets. She felt bad for her reaction. She knew Apollo didn't mean to be rude or bad or offensive. But she just couldn't hold herself.

She also reacted out of fear.

'I'm sorry' Calypso murmured, not looking up. 'I'm sorry for what happened, you must be scared of me--'

'Why would I?' Leo smiled, taking her chin with one hand, holding the baby with the other. 'You protected me, and my baby. Our baby. I would have done the same, in your position.'

'No, Leo, you don't understand--'

'I do.' He looked at her deeply. 'They took my mother from me. They took my friends. They took my childhood, my teenager years. They took me, even tho I escaped them.' Leo's eyes were strong, hurted. Not even close to that glowing look he always have up, no, a more adult feeling on them this time. 'If you didn't had reacted, I would do. I'm not gonna let them hurt me anymore, and this includes not hurting you and not hurting this small one. No need to say sorry for that, I'm fine.'

Calypso couldn't belive. She let herself fall back on the bed, looking at the ceiling.

'But what about ny powers? They have not been like... That, after we got out of Ogigya. That didn't scared you?'

'Well, kind of, but not in a traumatizing style.' He put Miguel down on the bed, between them. 'And also, I almost put the bedroom in flames when we first had sex, and you still by my side, even after years of the same accident happening times to times. That's no big deal to us, being in between scaring situations, hum?'

'You really compared me bringing spirits to the TV room in the intention to kill a god to us having sex?' Calypso smiled sideways, looking at Leo.

'Not to us having sex, but me almost killing you during sex. See? Alike situations.'

'No, they're not'

'Yeah, they are, but you are tired, your mind isn't 100% yet to see it' He laughed. Calypso pushed him from his knees, not hiding her big smile.

'Okay, gimme the baby, I have to feed him.' Leo helped her to get up, passing Miguel to his mother as soon as possible. It wasn't hard for her to breastfeed after so many time, but surely a but strange. Calypso was happy to be at that position once again. 'Thank you for understanding me. I don't know, I just felt like you would be mad and... I don't know.'

'That's fine, Calie. That's okay.' Leo got closer to her, looking at the baby. 'Everything is going to be fine, all the three of us will be fine. No one is going to hurt us anymore. Right, mijo?' He played with the baby's chin.

Calypso let out a small laugh.

'I hope so' She stared at the world outside the window, the sun coming in, ignoring the clouds that tried to hide it. 'I do hope so'"

[swaps55]

POV Case Study – Have Some Writing Meta

Point of View (POV) is an integral piece of the storytelling puzzle for Opus, my main body of fic, so I thought I’d do a meta post that walks through how I use it as a narrative tool. The intention is not to tell anyone how they should or shouldn’t use POV, but rather to demonstrate one way I used it very deliberately to create narrative tension, weave in characterization, and develop an overarching theme.    

Your POV character is an enormous tool in your writing toolbox, whether you are using a single POV or multiple. How you use it depends on a lot of things: what person you’re writing in (first, second, third), the type POV you’re going with (omniscient, meaning the POV narrator can see into everyone’s heads, or limited, meaning you only have access into the head of a specific POV character).

My preferred writing style is 3rd person “in-your-face” limited POV, that puts the reader so solidly in the POV character’s head it’s almost like 1st person in a 3rd person trench coat. That coupled with present tense gives me some extra intensity that I love taking advantage of in emotional or climactic scenes. Again, this isn’t to state a right or a wrong way to use tense or POV – there are lots of great ways to use these tools – but for the purpose of this exercise, this is my chosen loadout.

I made the conscious decision early in Sonata that I did not want to use Sam Shepard’s POV, ever. Every story in his series would be told through the eyes of the people around him. Why? Because one of the key character traits of Sam is that he makes himself whatever someone needs him to be. He sees himself as a tool, so to be a useful tool, he has to have the right shape for the job. This raises the question: who is Sam, when he is free to just be himself? I’m not sure even Sam knows the answer to that question, so to reinforce it through storytelling, I never wanted to reader to see what goes on in his head. Everything you learn about Sam comes through the perceptions of others, and to show the reader how differently he is perceived by others, I write with multiple POVs rather than just Kaidan’s.

Below the cut, I’m going to walk you through a specific example where POV was an essential part of crafting the story I wanted to tell. The chapter in question comes from Fugue, a story I’m writing that explores the aftermath of Alchera. You don’t need to have read Fugue to follow the logic, but if you care to read the chapter, it functions well on its own separate from the rest of the story.

Fugue – This Hole You Left.

This was a very complicated chapter that lived and died by POV choices, and it was extremely difficult to put together. The approach I took was a gamble that (thankfully) worked after much fretting, gnashing of teeth, and help from @pigeontheoneandonly.

This Hole You Left takes place after Sam dies over Alchera. I wanted to paint a ‘kaleidoscope’ of grief, and explore how Sam’s death impacted the people around him in very different ways. Therefore, I needed a plethora of POVs to work with, each one giving me something different. The goals were this:

Find differing POVs that would offer demonstrably different perceptions of Sam and/or illustrate different stages of grief and shock.        

Allow each of those POVs to mold to that character’s specific goals and motivations. i.e., I did not want the grief of other characters to be tied to the romantic relationship that had been lost – because that’s not the lens those characters would look through.

Each POV had to move the chronology along in a way that made sense and felt natural.

Kaidan’s POV was off limits. In the absence of Sam’s physical presence, I wanted to treat Kaidan like Sam – the character people could see, but not explore the headspace of. Everything the reader learns about Kaidan in the immediate aftermath of Alchera comes from other people.

That last piece was important. Arguably, Kaidan’s POV was the most valuable one of all, but I was going to have lots of time to explore it in meaningful ways elsewhere. I thought it might be more powerful to express his grief through the eyes of others, and use him as a central theme to weave in and out of the chapter. More about that later.

This constituted one hell of a puzzle to put together, especially when it came to the chronology. For instance, an early mistake I made was putting the most powerful POV (Anderson) too early in the sequence, which diminished what came after it. Moving that POV around meant re-framing other POVs to keep the chronology moving forward (for example, Garrus’ POV initially came after Anderson’s, by moving it before his, I had to change the context so that Anderson’s POV wasn’t a step backwards in time).

Each POV scene was also intended to essentially be its own self-contained short, creating a microcosm of grief, that when put together, would create a much larger and significant whole.

I could write forever about all the trial and error that went into finding the right formula, but it’s probably more valuable to look at where I wound up, and why:

1st POV: Lora Alenko (Kaidan’s mother)

Why: She gave me a window to set the clock in motion and make the loss of the Normandy feel real, because she had the advantage of having no idea anything was wrong. Plus, her perspective felt like a unique one I hadn’t seen in fic when it came to Alchera. I’d set her character up in Sonata, so readers of that fic would be familiar with her and understand what that phone call meant to her in a more meaningful way.

How I used it: I put her in the middle of a mundane, normal, event – lunch with a friend – and then shattered that normalcy with a phone call telling her the ship her son was on had been destroyed. That shift from normal to a state of dread gave me the tension I wanted to use for the rest of the chapter.

Excerpt:

But before she can answer, her omnitool flashes. She frowns and looks down at her arm. It’s a message from Marc. SOS. Call now.

A chill runs down her spine. SOS isn’t something Marc throws around lightly. She’d gotten an SOS from him when he’d found Apollo, the warmblood she’d ridden for years, with a leg stuck through the paddock fence, and the day they’d learned about Vyrnnus.

Kaidan.

“Melia,” she murmurs. “Excuse me, I have to take this.”

2nd POV: Admiral Hackett  

Why: Hackett gave me the chance to explore Shepard through the eyes of the Alliance. To them, and to Hackett, he’s a weapon rather than a person. He also gave me a chance to weave in a sense of anger, one of the stages of grief.

How I used it: This POV came about late in the revision process, but I’m thrilled it did, because I was missing that cold, calculated look at Shepard’s importance. Shepard dying fucks up Hackett’s plans and political machinations, and his immediate response is not to mourn someone who died, but to move on to plan B. This also gave me a shot to work in Shepard’s mother. By seeing her in Hackett’s POV, I could reinforce the ongoing theme that Captain Shepard sees her son as a legacy, rather than a person.

Excerpt:

There isn’t a list of people who can replace Shepard. Time to make one. Hackett exhales, gaze falling to the datapad on his desk, Shepard, Sam still displayed at the top of the casualty list.

He picks it up and hurls it at the wall. It cracks, screen flickering to black as it clatters to the floor.

What a goddamned waste.

3rd POV: Joker

Why: Joker was an easy one. I’d set up some rather terrible foreshadowing in Sonata with a scene in which he makes the comment “I’d go down with that ship,” and Sam replies, grinning, “Not while I’m around.” I wanted to spike the ball over the net in Fugue, so parking in Joker’s POV in the immediate aftermath was a no-brainer.

How I used it: Through Joker I could explore guilt and shock, so I went back to that memory from Sonata and used repetition to make Joker feel stuck in that moment. It was also my first chance to weave Kaidan in to reinforce the notion of guilt and lay some neat groundwork for narrative tension that would come to a head later.

Excerpt:

I’d go down with that ship.

Not while I’m around.

He should have abandoned ship. The escape pod was right there. He could have given up the Normandy at any time. All he had to do was step over the bodies of Pressly. Chase. All he had to do was leave them all behind.

Instead he’d stayed, and Shepard had made good on his word.

I’d go down with that ship.

Not while I’m around.

4th POV: Dr. Chakwas

Why: Through her, I could look at the adrenaline and denial that comes with managing trauma. To her, Shepard was a patient. Because she is overwhelmed with patients in the form of the Normandy’s wounded, she cannot stop to think about the one she cannot help: she has a job to do, and she has to do it. There will be time to grieve later.

How I used it: Again, I used Kaidan to emphasize her role as a caretaker. Kaidan, who is in command of the survivors, has a moment of weakness that she cannot afford to have, and he can only afford to have in front of her, because she overrides his authority in a medical emergency. Because we are in her POV, we see her outwardly refuse to crack, when internally she’s hanging by a thread. It made for a nice contrast.  

Excerpt:

“There was no transponder signal,” she tells him, saying out loud everything she’s been repeating to herself. “We were in hostile territory, with over twenty injured crew. He was gone, Kaidan.”

His fingers curl, eyes still trained on the window.

She puts a hand to her forehead. Between Virmire, triage on the Citadel and this it’s too much. Before today she’s never felt old. Tears sting the corner of her eyes and she swears under her breath. Not here. Not today. Tears are something for tomorrow. Right now, she has a job to do.

5th POV: Garrus

Why: Garrus was a member of the crew who wasn’t on the ship, which is a completely unique perspective. But the question that took me forever to answer, was, how does he react to Sam’s death? What was Shepard to Garrus? I hadn’t written about them during ME1 yet, he was not part of Sonata, and ME1 Garrus is always a little tricky for me. I knew there was something important to gain from his POV, but I couldn’t figure out what it was to the point of tearing my hair out. Eventually, I settled on Garrus seeing Shepard as a mentor he couldn’t live up to, and made his POV about failure and regret.  

How I used it: Shepard was everything Garrus aspired to be, but could never quite achieve. He left the Normandy because Shepard made him feel like he could make a difference, only he didn’t. And then, his friends needed him, and he wasn’t there, and now Shepard is dead. I wove a lot of doubt, regret and self-deprecation into his POV to drive that home.

Excerpt:

Dammit, why hadn’t he stayed on that ship?

He grabs another report from the top of the pile on his desk, which is getting tall enough to sway in the breeze.

This is why. Because Saren had obliterated the Citadel, and Shepard, damn him, had made him believe he could make a difference. He thought he could make it here. Crazy thing, having to fill out a form every time you find a corpse. He’s got three more to add to the list after today.

6th POV: Anderson

Why: Anderson was both a father figure and commanding officer to Sam. Because he’s known him for most of his life, he has a perspective no other POV character has. To him, Sam was more like a son he’d been tasked to protect, and in the end failed to protect him. He and Kaidan are the only people who know Shepard well enough to mourn Sam, and not just Commander Shepard. Anderson would really let me start to explore grief.

How I used it: This was my heavy hitter. Through Anderson’s POV, I could trace Sam the person as he grew into Commander Shepard, and explore the echoes of the kid that still lived in the adult. I was also able to use Kaidan in a really fascinating way. In Opus, Kaidan and Sam served together for four years before the Normandy. Therefore, Anderson is pretty familiar with him, but doesn’t know him the way he does Sam. He keeps looking at Kaidan expecting Sam. In a sense, trying to plug a puzzle piece into the wrong hole. It was a neat way to show Anderson’s grief.

Additionally, this was a great opportunity to demonstrate Kaidan’s sense of loss without being in his head. Anderson does not know there was a relationship between Sam and Kaidan, but the reader does. Thus, I could have my cake and eat it, too: The POV character wasn’t examining the relationship that had been lost between Sam and Kaidan because he didn’t know it existed, but the reader got to.  

Excerpt:

He exhales through his nostrils. “The Normandy was attacked by an unknown vessel. Whoever they were, Joker says they came out of nowhere. Shepard got him into the escape pod, but the ship lost gravity. He…well.”

Alenko stares straight ahead, silent. Anderson looks for a tell, but he only knows Shepard’s.

Alenko isn’t Shepard.

7th POV: Tali

Why: Tali presented a similar problem to me that Garrus did. What was Shepard specifically to her, and what did his loss mean to her? As my closing POV, not only did she need to hit a home run, but she also needed to close out the chapter in a way that tied all the other POVs together and examined Shepard’s death through a much wider lens, without feeling like I was pulling the camera back from her POV to get there. That’s a lot to ask. Lucky for me, Tali never lets me down.

The answer I came to also called back to Sonata, in which exploring what home meant to each of the characters was an important theme. So I went back to this idea for Tali, as she and Sam had a very important thing in common that set them apart from everyone else: they were both born in space, and did not have the traditional fixed point of home that everyone around them had. Home was different to them than it was to everyone else.

How I used it: Tali was the only one left who understood how truly unique and special the home she’d found on the Normandy was. Therefore, when the crew starts to fragment and fall apart around her, she is forced to mourn the loss not only of Shepard, who gave her that home, but the home itself. I was able to use that grief to circle back to how much Shepard changed the people around him, and how deeply his loss will be felt in ways people haven’t even realized yet.

That conclusion was the magic final puzzle piece that made the whole thing work, and it was literally the last idea to take shape.

Excerpt:

Aliens don’t carry their ship names with them the way quarians do. Perhaps when you’re born with dirt under your feet you don’t need to. For them, home isn’t a vessel among the stars – it’s a fixed place in the universe, a way back no matter how far from it you venture.

But Shepard had been different. Like the quarians, he had no fixed point. Home was what – or who – he carried with him. He’d understood the power of a ship name, even if he hadn’t used one out loud. People who served with Shepard felt like they belonged, in ways they couldn’t anywhere else, because he said to hell with that fixed point in the galaxy and brought home to anyone who needed it. For Shepard, there wasn’t a way back. Just a way forward.

Shepard changed people.

They’ve lost so much more than a ship.

The primary objective of Opus is to examine the relationship between Sam and Kaidan, but to really understand the magnitude of Sam’s death, it was critical to explore it outside the confines of that relationship. Part of the struggle Sam and Kaidan have is that Sam doesn’t truly belong to himself or to Kaidan – he belongs to everyone else. That means his death doesn’t belong to either him or Kaidan. It’s shared with all the people he touched and shaped.

That’s what made this carousel of POVs a challenge I really wanted to make work. It required an absurd amount of juggling, but the diversity and uniqueness of each made Shepard’s loss feel real and devastating. But not only did each of those POVs tell us something about Sam, they provided some meaningful character development for the POV character. How they react to Sam’s death and what it means to them tells us a lot about that character, which in turn lends the entire story more depth.  

If you read this far, I’m pretty sure you deserve a cookie. 

I don’t know if any of that is helpful or meaningful other than to show an example of how POVs can be a really awesome tool to tell a story. There can be a lot of depths and layers to why you use a particular character to tell a story through, and those choices can greatly impact the story you end up telling.

[kingburu]

[FIC] Birb Funeral

Someone asked me a long time ago what would happen if in the Dearly Departed universe (where Jason is a Son of Hades and Nico is a Son of Jupiter, and everyone is conveniently where I wanted to place them) what would happen if Bianca ended up in Camp Jupiter and Nico ended up in Camp Halfblood. I wrote this a while back for funsies and probably won’t expand, but take an au of an au!

tl;dr: Godswap AU where Jason is a Son of Hades, Nico is a Son of Zeus, and they grew up as childhood friends!

A storm hits first. In twelve-year-old Jason’s ten years at Camp Halfblood, he’s never seen anything as abrasive and harsh as the dark clouds that consumes all winter sunlight, dimming the heavens as though he’s staring at his father’s domain itself. Thunder and lightning boom like a commandeering force, and the rain rattles against the magical barrier around Camp Halfblood, like pelting against hollow tin, but falls on campgrounds like a soft shower.

It rains for three days straight, weakening Hestia’s hearth, cancelling Capture the Flag, and irritating all of the Apollo Cabin, who grow antsy without the sun. Jason is nonplussed by the storm, comforted by the additional shadows that linger—but he’s never quite liked the silence it forced in Cabin Eleven. The silence that used to be comforting, but now hurts as he has to look at the empty bed—the one that reminds him his own chest feels empty, too.

 On the third day, the eagles appear.

 Jason’s already awake, inspecting the other demigods without cabins of their own as he hears the righteous call of three bald eagles flying through the forest. Other campers wake to their squawk, if not the thunderous storm as it seems to boom louder and demand their attention.

 Then, a little boy appears through the forest, sopping wet and looking meager and small as he wobbles through the trees, with a nest of dark hair and bright blue eyes that reminds Jason of the days before the storm. He’s dressed in a ratty pair of jeans, caked in monster blood and—other blood, that immediately worries Jason—and a bright shirt with a lotus symbol on it. The eagles cry out again, encircling the little boy, and flank to either side of him like royal guards.

 Jason jumps as those blue eyes scan their small crowd—widening as they make contact with Chiron—but then turns to him.

 One of the eagles nudges the little boy, who stumbles forward.

 “This,” the little boy says curiously, “is Camp Halfbird, right?”

Halfbird, Jason thinks, puzzled, and he swears he sees both eagles puff their chests out with pride. He doesn’t get to contemplate long—of all the people that are surrounding this little boy, those blue eyes are fixated on him, waiting for an answer. “It’s actually Camp Halfblood—but, yeah, welcome.”

 “Oh,” the little boy says, and his shoulders heave. “Finally.”

 And he collapses forward. There’s a cry in surprise—and out of reflex, Jason steps forward and catches him. His eyes trail over to the may stains on this boy’s shirt—the monster blood, the human blood—and he hears Lee Fletcher crying out for someone to get ambrosia, nectar, and all the works.

 “Wait,” Jason hears himself saying, and the older son of Apollo stares at him in disbelief.

 “Why would we wait, Grace?” Lee demands.

 Jason props the boy up on his arm, the nest of dark hair bobbing as they move. “Because he’s snoring.”

 *

 Upon carrying the little boy to the infirmary, they all discover their newest camper has a vice grip and refuses to let go of Jason. Beckendorf, a much older camper, tries once while Jason takes this boy who can’t be older than nine or ten, and Jason’s head almost comes off with it. They stop trying when they hear a little sob. Jason thinks he hears a name—Bianca?—and confines himself to carry the boy to one of the cots.

 Jason has to rock on his feet and stand to the tips of his toes—and practically falls over as he sets the boy down, arms still bound around him, but eventually manages to wriggle out of the grip. He stares at the boy, puzzled, as this new demigod just rolls into a ball, expression unseen.

 The eagles caw outside—and from the window, Jason sees them soar past the window, evidently deciding to remain close.

 “Jace,” Lee says, which startles him, “why don’t you get him some new clothes?”

 Lee’s already washed his hands, rubber gloves on, and is picking up an arm to inspect this boy. He wrinkles his nose as his hand stains with mud.

 “Oh—okay,” Jason says—and he stays just long enough for Lee’s apprentice and little brother, Will, pull a twig out of dark hair.

 Jason sprints to the Big House. On his way back to the infirmary, he watches as both eagles spread their wings and shriek, glowering at him. Jason cringes, staring at them with hesitation.

 The door opens, and Will pokes his head out curiously. He stares up at the rooftop and mimics Jason’s expression. “You think they’re going to stay long?”

 “Hard to say,” Jason mumbles uncomfortably. He takes a thoughtful step towards the infirmary and the eagles make another sound of displeasure. A loud moan comes from the infirmary—childish and feeble, and the eagles suddenly cock their heads to that instead. Jason takes the distraction to climb the porch steps and sighs with relief. “Guess it depends on how long this kid wants to stay.”

 Will pats his shoulder sympathetically. “We’ll find an animal that likes you eventually.”

 *

 New campers, of course, fall under the jurisdiction of Cabin Eleven, and Connor and Travis insist that this new kid already imprinted on Jason, despite not being the head counselor. Jason knows that this kid is recovering from whatever journey brought him to Long Island and the last thing he needs is to be at the mercy of the Stoll Brothers’ pranks, so he halfheartedly agrees.

 The storm subsides pretty quickly after the kid arrives, and business seems to resume as usual. People are already placing bets on what cabin this kid belongs to—if he belongs to any cabin, and Jason tries very hard not to hope that this kid belongs in the cabin that the eagles and the obnoxious storm suggest.

 He spends most of the time in the infirmary, passing on his sword-training classes to Clarisse—and the boy wakes up just long enough to be spoonfed ambrosia and change into a clean shirt and pants. Every day, they find at least one twig in his hair while they’re not looking. He doesn’t speak very much at first—eventually Will and Lee decide to just let Jason handle this kid on his own to tend to other campers who are at the mercy of Clarisse’s sword training.

 On the third day of this kid’s arrival, Jason walks up the porch of the med bay and the eagles squawk angrily, per usual. Jason opens the door and notices the kid perk at his arrival, in contrast to the screaming eagles.

 “You feeling any better?” Jason asks.

 The blue eyes stare at him carefully, then nod. He squints thoughtfully at Jason, then speaks for the first time since arriving during the storm the other day. “They keep screaming death when you walk by.”

 Jason blinks. “They?”

 The boy gestures to the roof. “Lark and Sparrow.”

 Blond eyebrows furrow together. “Who?”

 “Lark and Sparrow,” the boy repeats.

 It takes a moment, but Jason’s eyebrows raise, puzzled. “You mean the eagles?”

 “Yeah.” The boy nods, then pauses. “They had an older sister—Cloud, but—well, she…” The boy’s eyes moisten and his gaze falls to his hands sadly. “She didn’t make it.”

 Oh. Jason doesn’t quite consider it a superpower, but he can pick up on the tone of a mourning soul, even if it’s for an eagle. Lark and Sparrow, the eagles (Jason doesn’t think he’ll ever get his mind wrapped around that) clearly love this little boy very much. Unfortunately, no one at camp speaks bird, and they’ve gone almost a week now not knowing this boy’s story—even if he wants to tell it.

 Jason retrieves a stool, setting aside the ambrosia sundae. “Do you…want to tell me about Cloud?”

 The boy raises his head curiously, evidently surprised to be encouraged, and then nods. “Cloud was their leader. She’s the one that found me first in—in the accident. And then she promised me that the four of them would get to camp. She—” His voice cracks. “—she couldn’t keep that promise.”

 Jason flashes a look of concern. After a few meals of ambrosia and clean clothes, the boy looks better, but feeling better is another story entirely.

 “Lark’s a good listener though, I think she makes Sparrow feel better,” the boy continues.

 The edge of Jason’s lip curls.

 “What?” the boy asks, and he blinks.

 “Nothing—I’m glad they got you here safe. I’m sure Cloud is proud,” Jason reassures. He reaches for the ambrosia sundae and at this point, the boy knows it’s for him. “I’ve never met birds that were named after other birds.”

 The boy shrugs nonchalantly. “Names are names. Did you know that Hades named his dog Spot?”

 Jason makes a face, watching as this boy pluck a cherry off the sundae and plop it in his mouth. Of all the deities the boy could have chosen (before they checked to see if he actually understands what’s going on—the death of Cloud the Eagle seems to suggest he does.) “I’ve—actually never thought about it that way.”

 “It just sounds cooler because it’s Greek,” the boy says. “Like your name. Otherwise, people would be walking around calling you Healer.”

 “I’m. Sorry, what?”

 “Your name,” the boy repeats, and it’s impossible not to stare at the bits of whipped cream at the corner of his lip. “Jason.”

 “You know my name,” Jason says slowly, on eyebrow arched in the air. This boy has been silent for the last two days, taking in his environment with wide, curious eyes. Jason had seen the boy’s mouth drop when Grover had come to check on him.

 The boy’s cheeks flush, and he quickly nods. “I heard the other two say it.”

 The other two, the boy said. Not Lee and Will. Jason blinks once again. “You know my name and you know the meaning behind my name.”

 “It was in the Argonaut Expansion pack,” the boy continues. “The trivia in the wrapper.”

 Much like Lark and Sparrow, Jason tries to connect the dots in his head. “You mean Mythomagic?”

 The sundae falls from the boy’s hands, and to Jason’s surprise, those blue eyes suddenly glitter with excitement. “You know Mythomagic? Do you play? Do you have a favorite character?”

 He’s vibrating in his seat, and Jason actually leans back to keep ice cream from falling on him. Jason reaches over and dabs the melted ice cream with a tissue. “I’ve dabbled. You’ll see some of the other kids playing Mythomagic here. It helps them understand our world better. Our—hey. So. Do you…understand how you got here? What’s going on?”

 The boy stares at him, puzzled, evidently confused.

 “So you and I—this entire camp,” Jason says slowly, “we’re halfbloods.”

 “Halfbirds?”

 “Halfbloods,” Jason corrects. “Demigods. It means that we’re half human, half—”

 “Half god,” the boy finishes with an excited whisper. His eyes glitter again. “Like Mythomagic.”

 “Yeah, exactly like Mythomagic—”

 “Oh my god,” the boy says again—and the way he vibrates in the bed would make Jason think he was never healing in the first place. “My dad was a god? Oh my dad!”

 Jason stares at the boy in surprise. For a kid that had emerged from the forest covered in blood and spoils, this is the quickest he’s ever seen a demigod recover from learning about their parentage. This kid is acting just like he sounds—a kid—and is now grinning from ear-to-ear.

 “Who’s your parent? Apollo? Aphrodite?” The boy claps his hand on the mattress, then leans close to Jason with a gasp. “It’s Thanatos, isn’t it? That’s why Lark and Sparrow keep screaming death!”

 “Um, Hades, actually—” Jason peels the ice cream sundae away from the bed before it can spill, unable to hide his surprise. Most people didn’t list gods outside the main twelve, let alone mention his dad’s lieutenant of all people. He expects the boy to gulp and shirk away at first—like other kids did when they realized they were suddenly standing with the child of the King of the Dead, but the boy’s hand fall and he stares at Jason with even more fascination.

 “He has 4000 attack power,” the boy whispers in amazement. “5000 if someone else attacks first.”

 Jason blinks, yet again confounded by this boy’s enthusiasm. “Yeah—I think I heard that. You’re not…scared?”

 The boy doesn’t hear him. Instead, he’s mumbling again, evidently still stuck on Jason’s parentage with utter amazement. He falls silent, then looks back up to Jason with hopeful eyes. “Can we hold a funeral for Cloud?”

 This time, Jason’s lips fold into the familiar shape, aching almost, into the first smile that he’s had in a long time. “Is that what you want?”

 The boy nods up and down. “A funeral for Lark and Sparrow’s sister, and maybe a funeral for my—” The boy cuts himself off, the excitement suddenly waning. Jason can see it in the boy’s expression, something hitting him like a freight train, and it looks more solemn and more mournful than it did for Cloud.

 Oh. This boy has seen death recently—and not just for the sister of someone else.

 Jason reaches out and places a hand on the boy’s shoulder. Blue eyes look back up to him, sadder than the bouncing boy from before.

 “We’ll give Cloud a Grecian funeral, just like in Mythomagic,” Jason says quietly. At the M word, the boy cocks his head back up, eyebrows furrowed. “And another for whoever else needs one. Whenever you’re ready.”

 The boy sniffles, his eyes swelling with tears once more.

 “Whenever you’re ready,” Jason repeats.

 “Okay.” To his surprise, the boy throws his arms around Jason like the first day, vice grip and all.

 Jason hesitates—but then folds his arms around the other boy, patting sympathetically as he hears the sniffles grow louder.

 *

 After Will and Lee give the okay, Jason plans a funeral in the woods for Cloud the Eagle—which quickly goes awry from the Grecian traditions that he had planned when Nico explains Lark and Sparrow’s constructive notes. Two of the notes include burying part of their sister “like humans do”—with things that she held dear. Nico whips a feather out of his hair, insistent that it came from the late bird, and explains that Cloud’s favorite items included bird seed and bottle caps.

 Thus, Jason instructs Nico to fill a lunch box with bird seed and bottle caps (there’s a small intermission where Jason watches Nico lecture Lark and Sparrow about eating their sister’s afterlife food) before placing the eagle feather gingerly on top, then listens to Nico and the birds deliver a eulogy for their fallen comrade.

 Grover plays the reedpipes as they lower the lunch box into the ground, and daffodils sprout over the mound. He’s touched, of course, that someone would care enough to want to hold a funeral for an animal of nature.

 “Will Charon accept bird seeds?” Nico asks worriedly.

 Jason doesn’t miss the way Grover suddenly squawks on the reed pipes, evidently amused by the question. He places a hand on Nico’s shoulder, not missing the way that Nico inches closer into his bubble. “Um, animals are out of Charon’s jurisdiction.”

 Nico frowns, clearly upset.

 “They usually get reincarnated. Sometimes as plants, or as new animals,” Grover explains. Jason has to hold back a sigh of relief—he doesn’t know how much more he can talk about death, but Grover is charmed enough. He gestures to the eagles. “Maybe a lark. Or a sparrow. Or—”

 “Or a raven?” Nico asks.

 Grover nods sagely, flashing a look that Jason has always received growing up. Then he ruffles Nico’s hair. “You sure know your birds, Nico.”

 Nico shrugs, the worry about Cloud not reaching the Underworld dissipating. Then, he notices what Jason has been wary of since the young demigod’s arrival. Nico gestures to Lark and Sparrow, who’d given Jason the stink eye since arriving at camp. “Why don’t they like you? They keep calling you the Deathbringer.”

 Jason cringes, and he notices Grover do it too. “Yeah—well, animals aren’t fond of me. They sense death.”

 Another frown curls against Nico’s lips, and the next look that the flashes his birds causes them to behave and stand erect. “But you just helped them bury their sister.”

 “Yeah, tell them that,” Grover mutters, and he nudges Jason affectionately.

 “I am,” Nico assures, and he climbs to his feet. The eagles squawk nervously—and then Nico turns around, his blue eyes fully on Jason. “And you’re so cool.”

 Grover spills into a grin, and Jason’s eyebrows raise in confusion. He can hardly call spending the afternoon filling a lunch box with bird seed and fending off grouchy birds cool. “You think I’m cool?”

 Unabashed, this boy stares at Jason with the same intrigue as he did when Jason started comparing Mythomagic to their lives. “The coolest.”

 Red flourishes in Jason’s cheeks, and Grover is elbowing him again. Before he can open his mouth, Nico turns to his pet eagles, hands on his hips like a doting mother.

 “If you two can’t respect Jason for holding a funeral for Cloud,” Nico says in his best parenting tone, “then scram.”

 Both birds make a sound, evidently shocked, but Nico places a hand in front of him, halting their speech.

 “No,” Nico says, “I’ll be okay here. Please go home.”

 Jason watches in utter disbelief as both birds pick themselves up, glaring at him, before flying away.

 Grover pats him on the shoulder. “You don’t want to know what they said.”

 Nico falls to his knees again and pets the daffodils over Cloud’s makeshift grave. His eyebrows furrow together, evidently troubled at the departure of their friends, but seems set on his decision.

 When he gets over his stupor, Jason clears his throat and walks up behind Nico, finally able to get close to this little grave that he helped make without prying eagle eyes. He kneels to the ground and pats a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Let’s get you settled in at Cabin Eleven.”

[solangelover]

Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better

Solangelo Week 2020 - god swap / body swap @solangeloweek 

Read on AO3 or FF.Net

A/N: (Ignore how late this fic is) I recently realized that I love the tag “crack treated seriously” and then I was like, wait is that what I write?? Oh well XD

“Ugh, I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Oh gods, what are we going to do??”

Will and Nico were behind the Hades cabin, but not for the reasons they’d like to be.

Currently, Will was looking at Nico and Nico was looking at Will, but they were also staring at themselves. Because they were in each other’s bodies. Because why not.

Nico pinched the bridge of his nose (Will’s nose?), sighing, “This is ridiculous.”

Will was a little more panicky than his boyfriend. “Oh my gods, how and why is this happening? We can’t be stuck like this! Can we be stuck like this? Oh my gods, what if we’re stuck like this???”

The boys had woken up from a nap together (a literal time of sleeping together) in the early afternoon, only to find that they weren’t quite themselves. They also found a note on the nightstand that said, “Don’t tell, or it’ll take longer to wear off!” signed with a simple red heart. The situation was pretty straight forward, but that didn’t make it any easier to handle.

“Solace, calm down. We’ll be fine. This is either a prank from the Aphrodite kids or Aphrodite herself. I don’t think any children of Aphrodite have ever had precise enough control of their power to extend the time of their curses, though I’ve also never heard of any body or mind swaps from them either…” Nico tapped his chin in thought.

“So you think this is directly from a goddess??” Will flailed his arms for emphasis. He had not been still since they woke up switched.

Nico held up his hands placatingly. “Will, I said to calm—”

“When has that ever made anyone calm??”

Nico’s eyes flicked to the ground behind Will, noticing some movement. He immediately recognized the shadows reacting to Will’s panic, swirling around his feet and slowly pulling upward like a barrier. Huh, so that’s what that looks like, Nico thought, finally seeing what other people saw. He could admit that it was slightly terrifying.

“Okay! Okay, Will, just, breathe with me. Remember, like you taught me?” Nico drew in a deep breath, emphasizing the movement with his hands. He exhaled loudly. “In 4, hold 3, out, like, 5. Right?”

“What, no, do you even listen to me? It’s in 4, hold 7, out 8. Like this,” and Will proceeded to do several slow breaths. Nico was grinning even as he copied Will. He also realized how different he looks when he’s not frowning while doing the exercise. He should probably pay attention to his facial expressions more.

After a few more breaths, Nico ventured, “Better?”

Will blinked a few times before letting out a chuckle. “Oh, I see what you did there. Sneaky Death Boy.” He smiled at Nico, which, again, was a very different sight to Nico. Not that he didn’t smile often, but for some reason, Will made his smile look brighter.

Instead of saying this, Nico replied with, “Well, actually I think you’re the Death Boy now, Sunshine.”

Will face palmed while Nico laughed. It was weird to hear Will’s laugh ringing in his own ears, knowing that Nico himself was the one laughing. Switching bodies was a real out-of-body experience.

Nico jolted and then groaned to himself. “Will, please tell me you don’t think in puns.”

Will immediately straightened up and asked desperately, “What was the pun? Please tell me, I haven’t thought of a single one this whole time.”

Nico sighed. “Just how this is a real out-of-body experience.”

Will burst into laughter immediately. “Oh, that’s a good one!” He wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. “Yeah, puns just pop into my head. I don’t know if it’s a gift from Apollo or what, but I love it and already miss it.”

Nico rolled his eyes. “I hate you. Or me. I hate this body and brain. It’s stupid.”

Will hummed. “That’s not what you said last night.”

“Will, I swear to the gods, stop taking flirting tips from Cecil and Lou Ellen. They make no sense coming from you. I didn’t even see you yesterday!” Nico wrinkled his nose in disgust as he watched his boyfriend waggle his eyebrows suggestively with his body. “Also, don’t make me say or do dumb things. It’s wrong.”

Will’s face lit up, which really made Nico look his age instead of like the 80-something year old he truly was, and he proceeded spin around and flail his arms. Nico knew this to be Will’s version of dancing.

Will abruptly stopped and pouted at Nico. “No fair. I can literally feel your body being graceful even when I’m controlling the movements. I can’t make you dance badly if I tried!”

“Don’t test that theory,” Nico chuckled despite himself, glad to see that Will had calmed down and was actually having fun in this scenario. He’d hate to ruin the good mood, but, “How long do you think this will last?”

Will sobered up quickly, folding his arms in thought. “Hard to say. Like you said, we’ve never heard of this kind of prank being pulled before. So, if it really is from the goddess of love… then we just have to not make her mad so she lifts the curse, or at least, doesn’t extend it.” His eyebrows furrowed quizzically. “Why did she curse us in the first place?”

“I bet she was just bored,” Nico shrugged. “Anyway, her note also said that we can’t tell anyone, otherwise we’ll be stuck like this for longer. So…” he trailed off, unsure of where that left them.

“Basically, we have to be each other for however long, without telling anyone directly what’s happening.” Will swallowed.

The boys let that sink in. And then simultaneously groaned.

“I was supposed to teach a sword lesson in a few hours,” Nico grumbled, imagining just how much could go wrong with Will handling a sword. Granted, he’d be in Nico’s body, but still.

“And I have a shift at the infirmary through dinnertime,” Will ran a hand through his hair, distracted momentarily by the silky black locks he combed through instead of his normal wiry dirty blonde hair. At least Nico had helped in the infirmary enough to know what Will did and where things were. But he did not have the medical training and experience Will had. What might happen if a camper got seriously hurt?

They sat in silence for a bit as they thought this over. Could they pull it off?

“…”

“…”

“This is bad.”

“This is doable,” they said at the same time. Nico looked up in concern, thinking his boyfriend was overestimating his sword skills, while Will looked mildly offended as he thought Nico was doubting his own knowledge of the infirmary.

“Neeks! You can totally take a shift at the infirmary. My siblings will be there for anything major,” Will stated with his hands on his hips. He had to look up slightly since Nico was a few inches shorter than Will, which was definitely a new experience for Will.

“Okay,” Nico looked doubtful, but continued. “But I don’t think you can run a sword lesson. No offense,” he tacked on with an apologetic smile.

Will hummed in agreement. “Yeah, that’s probably true. We can cancel it, though, right? Or ask someone to take it over?”

“Ugh, I don’t know. I don’t want to cause suspicion or upset the love goddess for any reason,” Nico frowned. “… I think we might just have to… do this.”

They stared at each other for a moment more.

“Oh gods,” Will buried his face in his hands.

“Merda,” Nico glared at the sky, the bright blue like Aphrodite herself was mocking him. She probably was.

---

*At the arena*

“Okay, guys! Um, today we’re going to shake things up and have some fuuuuun!” Nico was absolutely going to kill Will for making him sound like an idiot, but he didn’t know what else to do. Six kids between eight to ten years old gazed up at him with varying levels of excitement and confusion. Will distractedly realized how much he’s sweating (though more from nerves than physical exhaustion) and understood why Nico did his usual training shirtless. But Will was highly unsure about being so close to his shirtless boyfriend’s body, regardless of who’s brain was controlling his movements. So, the shirt stayed.

“What are we doing that’s so great, Mr. Nico?” An eight-year-old Ares girl looked a little too excited about sword-fighting class for Will’s comfort.

“Um,” Will rubbed the back of his neck nervously as he spoke. He was reaching for any way to circumvent dangerously pointy weapons when an idea struck him. “Oh!” He smiled at the kids, who looked quite off-put by the expression. “Today, we’re going to discuss basic medical knowledge to know when you’re on the battlefield!”

The groans he received put a damper on what he thought was a very practical lesson that he’s immensely proud he came up with.

“But that’s what infirmary class is for! Mr. Will taught us!”

“Yeah, I wanna fight with swords!”

“Ah ah ah!” Will interrupted their grumblings before it got out of hand. “Mr. Will teaches what the medics do once you can leave a fight and be treated properly. This will be quick fixes while you’re still fighting. It’s important that you can quickly assess wounds and determine your next course of ac—”

“Ugh, you sound like Mr. Will!”

“Yeah, you never talk this much, Mr. Nico.”

“Maybe he’s not the real Mr. Nico.”

These kids were getting dangerously close to the truth, and Will almost wanted to tell them so they’d stop complaining. But no, couldn’t do that. Hm, how do I make them interested while sounding like Nico…

Will lit up when he finally realized what to do. Really, he should be better at this, he has so many little siblings. But he and Nico didn’t exactly behave in the same way. Nico didn’t like coddling kids in any way, especially not in his class. That’s probably why they loved him so much.

“Okay, okay,” Will said loudly, cutting off the students’ whispering as he sat down in front of them. “How about I tell you a story?”

Immediately, all the kids cheered and sat down as close to him as they could, stars shining in their eyes.

“Haven’t you fought werewolves?”

“Do you see ghosts?”

“You fought with Percy Jackson! Tell us about him!”

“What kind of powers do you have?”

“Oh, tell us about defeating the Titans!”

“Are zombies, like, super gross?”

Will laughed at how excited they all were. He almost forgot that Nico was a famous war hero instead of his dorky boyfriend. “Okay, listen closely. You may learn a thing or two from my heroic tales!” He puffed out his chest dramatically, drawing adorable giggles from everyone. He then launched into a story about one of Nico’s many battles, throwing in how he used his medical knowledge to patch himself up and continue fighting. Needless to say, everyone paid attention when Will brought out some bandage rolls for them to practice with.

---

*At the infirmary*

“Will, what in Hades are you doing?”

Nico jumped at Kayla’s voice sounding behind him. His head knocked into a shelf, spilling supplies on the floor. He was not hiding in the supply closet.

“Um,” he began eloquently. “Inventorying?”

Kayla rolled her eyes. “Bro, you did that yesterday. And we don’t have that many people coming in here, so I highly doubt we’re low on anything.” So maybe she was just exasperated with her brother and didn’t suspect anything weird was going on.

“Well, you know me,” was a phrase that Will never said and yet it’s all Nico could think of. He shrugged apologetically at Will’s sister.

“Whatever, come on, Cecil just came in with some burns on his arms. I’d say it was from the lava wall, but he probably exploded something in his face.” She led the way out of the supply closet and toward the front of the infirmary. Where Cecil, Will’s best friend, was waiting and would surely notice something off about Will.

“What are you going to do?” he asked Kayla.

She eyed him with some suspicion. “… What do you want me to do?”

“Oh, uh,” Nico was confused. “Um, nothing? Whatever you normally do?”

“… Huh.” (Will had definitely given her a task to do that morning.)

She was about to respond when Nico blurted out, “You can end early, if you want.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. That was not a common thing for the head medic to say, for sure.

“I mean,” Nico floundered for any sort of reasoning. “You’ve been working hard recently, and I just thought you might like a little extra free time.” He paused for a moment before adding, “And you’re taking the cabin to dinner tonight since I’m working, which is hard enough.”

At that, Kayla laughed and seemed to relax. “Yeah, no kidding. You want me gone? I’m gone, no problem.” Nico sighed with relief. Then he realized that if anyone came in majorly injured, he’d have no help. He thought about taking it back, but she was already out the door.

With another sigh, Nico headed toward the bed Cecil was currently lounging on, not concerned in the slightest about the mild burns on his forearms. He picked up his head as Nico approached.

“‘Sup, Will!”

Nico shook his head, feeling Will’s blond wisps tickle his face as he did so, and gave his friend an exasperated smile like he’d seen Will do a million times over. “Here again, Markowitz?”

Cecil threw his head back and laughed. “Markowitz? I thought Mr. Doom-and-Gloom was the only one who used last names like the old-timer he is?”

“Uh,” Nico fumbled. “Yeah, I was just… testing it out?”

“Okay, Doctor Solace,” Cecil rolled his eyes. “I just need the magic bandages and I’ll be on my way.”

Right, healing magic. Something Will should be able to do. But Nico doesn’t know if he can make his powers work properly. “Right, I’ll just… get some bandages.”

Cecil didn’t seem to notice or care about the healer’s apparent hesitation, simply leaning back on his bed. “Sure thing. So, how’s life, my friend?”

Nico scoffed, “Don’t we see each other every day? Multiple times?”

“That doesn’t mean I know how you’re doing. Is it so wrong I want to hear from my best friend, my buddy, my pal?” Cecil was so dramatic sometimes.

Nico just hummed in response as he came back with some bandages and burn ointment. Thank the gods he had helped out in the infirmary many times in the past. Will taught him the basics at least, and he’d taken care of minor injuries like this before. Hopefully, that was enough, and Cecil didn’t ask for any actual hymns.

“Soooo,” Cecil drawled. “How’s the boyfriend?”

Nico choked on air.

“Oh, come on, Will,” Cecil rolled his eyes. “You should be used to me asking by now. You know I’m nosy!”

“I, um,” Nico didn’t know what to say.

Luckily, Cecil continued. “Remember when you used to talk my ear off about Nico? I can’t say I miss those days, but it’s so much harder when I have to pry for information.”

Nico was suddenly much more interested in this conversation. “I didn’t used to talk that much… did I?”

“Oh,” Cecil sat up straight, jostling his arm that Nico was trying to wrap. “Don’t even give me that. You know you did. All I heard was Nico’s so cute and he’s so strong and did you know he used to play Mythomagic? That’s adorable!” He mocked Will’s voice and practically swooned at the end. Even while blushing furiously, Nico had to hold in his laughter. He’s not surprised that Will said those things, but hearing Cecil complain about it made it even funnier.

“I did not,” Nico said indignantly like he’d heard Will do so many times. He wasn’t a good liar.

“Yes, you totally did! Must I recount the many laments of Nico’s beauty and grace?”

Nico really hoped his smile didn’t come off as mischievously as he felt. “Oh, please do.”

---

Will came by the infirmary with a plate of food toward the end of Nico’s shift. The place was empty except for Nico sweeping the floor. Will had to pause in the doorway for a second, his mind still confused when he saw himself doing the sweeping. Is that what I usually look like? But, no, probably not. Because Nico was scowling hard at the floor as he worked, which was an odd look to see on the son of Apollo’s face.

“Knock knock!” Will called out, getting his boyfriend’s attention. Nico blinked a few times at Will, probably jarred in the same way Will was upon seeing himself.

Then he scowled again. “Don’t say that in my body���I look dumb.”

Will gasped in mock offense, then twirled around with his plate of food. “I think I make you look good, Sunshine.” He winked at Nico for good measure, who in turn groaned and dropped the broom where he was.

The boys settled down at Will’s desk, Nico taking Will’s usual seat in case anyone came in. They didn’t want any questions, no matter how innocent.

“So, do you think this body swap business is almost done?” Will asked as they started eating.

Nico could only shrug. “Hopefully. A day is the average length of a curse around here, but who knows?”

Will hummed in agreement. After a few more moments of silence, he asked, “How was the infirmary today? Everything went okay?”

Nico nodded. “Yeah, only Cecil came in with some burns.” He then smirked at his boyfriend. “He also told me some stories.”

“Oh no,” Will muttered as he buried his face in his hands. “About what?” He was afraid to know the answer.

“You know, just about you… and how you used to gush over me all the time.” Nico was fully grinning now. Will didn’t know he could look so evil.

“Ugh, whyyyyy,” he groaned loudly.

“I have so much blackmail material now.”

“I hate you.”

“Yeah.”

They lapsed into another brief silence before Nico piped up again. “So, did you kill anyone in my class?”

“Psh, I’ll have you know, I am an excellent teacher,” Will puffed up.

Nico raised an eyebrow at him. “Yes, but your sword skills aren’t exactly up to par.”

“Well then it’s a good thing we didn’t use swords today.” Nico’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but before he could say anything, Will leapt out of his chair and struck what he probably thought was a heroic pose. “I regaled your students with tales of your bravery,” he trumpeted in a deep, dramatic voice. “While also interjecting some medical advice and emphasizing the importance of field medical knowledge.”

A beat of silence, and then, “Please don’t tell me you said it like that.”

“Just like that,” Will replied, a cheeky grin on his face.

Now it was Nico’s turn to groan, cheeks flooding red with embarrassment. “Will! I have a reputation!”

“Which I have elevated, you’re welcome.” He bowed as he returned to his seat.

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

if love was a snake, it’d have bit you

Ao3

Summary: Remy, Patton, and Drew are dating. This is a fact. Remy, Patton, and Drew refuse to admit they are dating. This is also a fact. Guess it's up to Roman, Virgil, and Emile to force them to acknowledge the truth. Content: Some swearing, kissing (mostly face kisses, but some lip kisses too), nb!Patton + nb!Emile, genderfluid!Remy, oblivious gays, seriously guys, so much obliviousness, the obliviousness might kill you, gods know it killed me, Disneyland cast member AU Pairing: Romantic Mosleepceit Additional notes: So many additional notes           -Big thanks to @emo-disaster for beta-ing for me and confirming the gays in this fic are wayyyyyy too oblivious           -This fic is almost 11k words. it was meant to be around 3k. I’m so sorry.           -Inspired by, but not actually based upon, this disneyland cast member au           -This is probably hella inaccurate to real Disneyland but i don’t care alright           -This fic is a (late) b-day gift for the one-and-only @notveryglittery !!! She’s an incredible person who I’m extremely happy to know, and I’m really hoping she even kinda likes this mess of a fic dsfbcdsjf

~~

    “-and if you’ll just sign here, I can finalize that upgrade for you.”

    The woman smiled at Remy as she accepted the pen he offered her. She looked tired, her entire appearance screaming ‘overworked mom’ even without the literally screaming (playfully, but still screaming) kids behind her. She definitely needed the vacation.

    “I can’t thank you enough for this,” she said gratefully, quickly signing the paper Remy offered her.

    “It’s no problem, ma’am,” Remy said, smiling politely as he took the paper and pen back, hitting a few keys on his computer as he did. “Just happy to make your stay as magical as possible. Here’s your keycard.”

    The stressed mother accepted the keycard from Remy with another smile. “Thank you.” She reiterated the sentiment before convincing her children to give her their hands and heading off for the elevators, her wife following with the luggage. Remy smiled after them, briefly letting the last of the room change form sit unfinished on his screen.

    “You’re going to get yourself fired for that eventually, you know.”

    Remy’s smile only grew at the sound of the all-too-familiar voice. He turned back to his work then, enough of Roman in his peripheral for Remy to tell he was strutting his stuff as a friend of Flynn’s. “Ah, you know they love me too much for that.”

    “More like they don’t look hard enough to catch all your illegal ‘on-the-mouse room upgrades.’” Roman corrected, leaning against the back of the receptionist desk. “Though if they ever do? You’re screwed.”

    “Shush, I’mma be gay and doing crime til Disney falls.” Remy responded cheekily. “And speaking of people who are going to get themselves fired, shouldn’t you be over in the good ol’ Disneyland already?”

    Roman shrugged. “Shift doesn’t start for another half an hour. I’ve got time.”

    “Time for what, exactly?”

    Roman grinned at that. “Gossip, of course!”

    Remy grinned now, too. “Well, if you’re looking for tales, a little birdy’s been keeping me updated on a blossoming relationship between one of the friends of Rapunzel and one of the friends of Snow White-”

    “Oh, not that kind of gossip.” Roman interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. “I’m talking the good gossip- preferably about you and your boos.”

    Remy scoffed, shaking his head as he hit the enter key and finished out the form. “Hard to gossip about those which I do not have, hun.”

    Roman groaned, slumping against the desk and throwing his head back. “Oh, please, Remy, don’t tell me you’re still in denial.”

    “Denial about what?” Remy asked, finally turning his full attention to Roman. “The fact that I’m single?”

    “The fact that you have not one but TWO partners!” Roman answered, dramatically holding up two fingers. “Not only are you being a proper partner HOG you are refusing to admit as such.”

    “Well if you’re just looking for someone to be the soul to your mate, handsome, I think I can hook you up.” Remy said teasingly, briefly lowering his sunglasses to wink at Roman.

    Roman met the wink with a deadpan stare. “You’re a taken man.”

    “Only if you make it so.”

    “You can’t keep pretending your partners don’t exist.”

    “I can if I don’t have any partners.” Remy told him, finally pushing his shades back over his eyes and giving up at his mock attempts to seduce Roman. “Now, of course, I have two very close friends with whom I do many things with, but given I’m not dating either of them, calling them my ‘partners’ seems a little much, don’t you?”

    “I get it, I get it, I have good friends too.” Roman said, as if he were going along with what Remy was saying until he quickly added, “Except I’m not obviously DATING them!”

    “You’re hopeless, princey, truly hopeless.” Remy said in response, smirking as he patted Roman’s cheek. “Ya gotta stop finding romance where it simply ain’t.”

    “The only thing I am finding is the truth behind all the bullsh-”

    “Remy!”

    Both Roman and Remy turned from each other, gazes moving to the entrance, where the voice had originated from. The owner of the voice was hurrying over to them, their blond curls pulled back into a loose ponytail, keeping their hair out of their face and allowing them to smile brightly at both Roman and Remy. They stopped in front of the receptionist's desk, taking a moment to catch their breath and straighten their relatively small red tie.

    “Heya sunshine.” Remy greeted easily, smiling at Patton in a way that was a little too soft to be a proper smirk “May I ask what brings you here in the middle of your shift? You’re gonna get yourself fired.”

    “‘Worth it for a chance to see you.” Patton told him sweetly, giggling just a bit and ignoring Roman’s expression of self-confirmation. “Buuuuuuuut I'm on lunch break. Just came over to ask what you wanted for dinner. I know the plan for tonight was take-out, but I just realized that we have all the ingredients to make lasagna- aside from the noodles, which we can pick up on our way home- so I thought it might be fun to make that tonight instead!”

    “Sounds wonderful to me.” Remy answered. “We’re going to keep it a secret from Dee though, right?”

    “Of course!” Patton agreed. He leaned over to stage whisper to Roman, “It’s his favorite.”

    “Oh, you guys know each other’s favorite dinners, do you?” Roman asked, smiling in a knowing way and wiggling his eyebrows at Patton. Patton tilted their head to the side, clearly confused, while Remy answered casually,

    “Of course! You can only live with someone for so long without picking up on what they like to eat. Dee’s favorite is lasagna. Patton’s favorite dinner- which is coincidentally their favorite breakfast, lunch, and dessert as well- is waffles. And mine, of course, is a nice big cup of espresso-”

    “Don’t lie!” Patton cut him off, smiling as they leaned on the counter and ended up within an inch of Remy. “Your favorite dinner is chicken soup!”

    “Remy hates soup.” Roman said, raising a suspicious eyebrow.

    “Not chicken soup.” Patton confirmed, not looking away from Remy. “That’s his favorite, no matter what he says.”

    “Mmm, nice try, Pat, but that’s not it.” Remy denied. Patton pouted at him then, and almost immediately Remy relented with, “My favorite dinner is your chicken soup. You’re the only one who knows how to make it right, hun.”

    Patton giggled. “I make it just like anyone else would!” they insisted, though their smile brightened even as they spoke.

    Remy’s smile grew as well as he leaned forwards just a bit, pressing his forehead against Patton’s. “Nah, honeypie, you got somethin’ all the other recipes don’t.”

    “And what’s that?” Patton asked.

    “Loooooooove.” Remy answered, grinning broadly, seemingly happy to ignore how cheesy his answer was.

    Patton didn’t mind the cheesiness. “You’re too much,” they said, too playfully to be chastising.

    “Better than being too little.”

    Patton just grinned at that. “I have to go.”

    “Alright, sweetheart.” Remy said, expression seemingly not changing, though a close observer (aka Roman) might have noticed his smile dip just the slightest. “See you at six?”

    “Mhmm!” Patton confirmed with a hum. They pulled away from Remy, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead before they ran off, waving one last goodbye as they reached the doors before disappearing outside. Remy lazily waved his fingers after Patton, watching the doors a moment after Patton was through them before turning back to his computer and his work.

    “Ready to admit you’re definitely dating at least one of your partners?”

    “Nope,” Remy replied without missing a beat. “Though if you really want me to have a partner, you’re single… I’m single…” Remy waggled his eyebrows at Roman.

    Roman ignored his advances. “The chemistry between you and Patton is so strong I’m surprised nothing’s exploded yet.”

    “That was weak.”

    “Shush.” Roman waved his hand dismissively. “I mean, for the love of Apollo, they kissed you goodbye!”

    Remy half-shrugged. “They do that with all their friends.”

    “They didn’t give me a kiss.”

    “They were in a rush.” Remy explained away. “But if you really want a kiss-”

    “-I will get it from my darling friend of Rapunzel,” Roman finished for him, having leaned over to check the time on the bottom of Remy’s screen. “I got so distracted trying to get you to tell me the truth I lost track of time.”

    “What truth?” Remy asked, tone light. “The one about us making a perfect couple?”

    Roman smiled sweetly at him, as though Remy was naive. “Maybe in a universe where you didn’t literally live with your soulmates,” he said, patting Remy’s shoulder before he turned and headed towards the door. He raised his hand over his shoulder without turning back, half-waving at Remy as he added, “Call me when you’re done being in denial!”

    Remy just let out a light huff of amusement, shaking his head and turning back to his work. Roman could say whatever he wanted, but the fact remained: Remy was (un)happily single and most certainly not dating his roommates.

    Yeah, sure, maybe he could’ve mentioned that his ‘best friends’ were also his crushes, but, hey, it wasn’t like that was that important, right?

    ~~

    Patton was staring intently at the floor. Well, more technically, they were staring intently at the mess on the floor and trying to convince themself they were supposed to be cleaning up said mess and not doing anything else with it.

    The bell near the front of the store rang as the door swung open, but Patton ignored it. Plenty of people filtered in and out of the store. They did, however, pay attention when the sound of approaching footsteps got closer than the signs should have allowed.

    “I’m sorry, this aisle is currently closed, if you don’t mind-” Patton started immediately, tone polite as they looked up, fully expecting to find an angry customer who refused to go over one extra aisle for whatever sweet treat they were looking for. They stopped when they saw who it was, polite-but-fake smile being replaced by a genuine one. “Oh, Virgil, hello there!”

    Virgil smiled back, half-waving before he turned his focus to the floor, careful to step around the mix of glass shards and chocolate-covered balls of something as he came up next to Patton. “Busy day?”

    Patton shrugged. “It was fine until someone didn’t put the jar fully back on the shelf. I’m just glad no one got hurt.”

    Virgil nodded. “That’s good,” he agreed. “Waste of some perfectly good candy though.”

    “It is,” Patton bemoaned, looking sadly at the mess. Virgil side-eyed them.

    “Pat, you haven’t been considering eating the fallen candy, have you?”

    “Maybe?” Patton tried, looking at Virgil only to find his expression completely disbelieving. They sighed. “Yes. It just looks so yummy! Even mixed in with all the glass! Because the glass sparkles and makes it kinda magical looking and it couldn’t hurt to have just one-”

    Virgil put a hand on Patton’s shoulder, stopping them from bending down and grabbing one of the candies before they could move an inch. “All the candy here’s magical. Eat some of the candies that aren’t also glassy.”

    “Mhmm,” Patton hummed in sad annoyance. “But it’s such a waste… I can stop it from being waste…”

    “You could, but should you?” Virgil asked.

    Patton groaned. “I shouldn’t,” they said. “But I want to…” They sighed, turning their gaze from the tempting mess to Virgil. “Distract me. Why are you here?”

    “Other than to stop you from making poor dietary choices?” Virgil asked rhetorically before going on, “I’m avoiding Roman.”

    “Avoiding him?” Patton repeated. “I thought you two were getting along. Don’t tell me he started another prank war-”

    “No, he’s just being annoying,” Virgil answered. “He wouldn’t stop bothering me while I worked, because Remy apparently hadn’t been in the mood to entertain his gossip, thereby making me the person stuck listening to it. Guess Kev’ decided letting me walk it off for half an hour was better than me tearing a costume in frustration.”

    Patton nodded as they moved to once more hold their broom, beginning to sweep up the mess as they said, “What was the gossip?”

    Virgil leaned back on the shelf behind him, waving his hand pointlessly. “Oh, same old same old. Just talking about you and your partners, mostly how oblivious Remy is- which, I get it, Remy can be obtuse, but that doesn’t mean I want to hear about it all morning-”

    “What?!” Patton cut him off, voice a higher pitch than they had intended, stopping halfway through a sweep to look at Virgil in disbelief and confusion. “My- what partners?!”

    “...Remy and Drew. Duh,” Virgil said slowly, blinking at Patton as if they were missing something incredibly obvious. “You know. The people you live with. And are clearly dating. Those partners.”

    Patton laughed, a weird hybrid sound of amusement and awkwardness. “I think you’re a little confused there, kiddo. I’m not dating Remy or Dee- they’re just my friends!”

    “Yeah. Friends you’re dating,” Virgil said, raising an eyebrow at Patton. “Don’t tell me you thought I wouldn’t notice. It’s fairly obvious.”

    “I don’t know how it can be obvious if it isn’t true.” Patton responded, going back to sweeping as they looked away from Virgil. “We’re just friends. At least I am, anyways.”

    “What does that mean?”

    Patton briefly looked up from their work to look at Virgil instead. “Aw, shucks, Virge, you’ve seen how Remy and Dee look at each other. If anyone’s dating, it’s them.”

    “And you?” Virgil pressed, prompting Patton to look down again at their work. “I’ve seen how Remy and Drew look at each other, but I’ve also seen how you look at them. They’re pretty similar looks, my dude.”

    “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Patton answered, even as their cheeks flushed a light shade of pink. They risked a glance at Virgil, only to find him looking at them disbelieving. “Okay, maybe I love them a little more than just as friends.” Continued disbelief. “A lot more! But that doesn’t mean we’re dating.”

    “And why does them looking sweet at each other make them dating, but you doing the same just makes you just friends?”

    “Because I think I’d know if I was dating them, silly.” Patton responded simply.

    Before Patton could continue, or Virgil could speak up, they were interrupted by the sound of quickly approaching footsteps and the slight crunch of glass as the newcomer misstepped and stepped on the mess. “Well this looks… delightful.”

    “Dee!” Patton said, dropping their broom against the shelf as they carefully (but still hurriedly) stepped around the mess to approach their roommate. He was dressed as a friend of Aladdin’s, wearing baggy pants and a raggedy shirt-vest combo, his small red hat carefully hiding his bun, presenting the illusion of him having short hair. Slight touches of make-up highlighted the scar running from beneath his left eye to the bottom of his jaw, Drew always happy to tell the very dramatic tale of how he got it in a sword fight (when the truth of the matter involved a very long story having to do with toast, ferrets, and the reason why he wasn’t allowed to use the ice machine anymore). “What’re you doing here?”

    “Why, unhappy to see me?” Drew asked sarcastically, though he was smiling at Patton.

    “Never!” Patton responded resolutely. They wobbled a bit as they got closer to Drew, almost stepping on a particularly ugly shard of glass, but Drew reached out and grabbed one of their hands before they could fall, stabilizing them and helping to lead them right up in front of him. Patton giggled at his help, not releasing his hand even once they were done moving. “Just curious. Shouldn’t you be at the wishing well?”

    “Oh, I was,” Drew told them, free hand rising up to tuck a stray curl behind Patton’s ear. “But then I wished to see the loveliest face in the world and found myself here with you.”

    Patton giggled again. “The wishing well must be broken if it didn’t just provide you with a mirror.”

    A touch of pink coloured Drew’s cheeks at Patton’s words, and in the background Virgil turned from watching the two of them to stare blankly at the shelf across from him, as though it was a camera and he was in The Office. 

    “Trust me, angel, it made no error,” he said, despite his minor blush. “But to better answer your question, have you noticed how bright it is outside?”

“Of course I have,” Patton answered. “It must be warm out there.”

“It is warm,” Drew confirmed, sounding as if there was more he wasn’t saying but wanted Patton to pick up on anyways. “Some might even say it’s hot.”

“Just like you?”

Drew’s blush grew. “I think you’re missing the point.”

Patton’s smile turned a shade mischievous. “I’m not. I’m just waiting for you to admit to it.”

“Cruel, sweetpea, cruel.”

“Just admit it already!”

Drew sighed dramatically. “Alright! I fold! I admit that hydration in the face of the harsh sun is important.”

“Andddddd?”

Another sigh. “I admit that I forgot my water bottle, which I likely wouldn’t have done if I had simply used one of your sticky notes.”

“I even doodled a snake on your reminder!” Patton said, lightly hitting Drew’s chest. “It was cute AND helpful.”

“Just like you,” Drew commented, moving his hand from Patton’s hair to cup their cheek as they flushed. “And I’m sorry, dear, I really didn’t think I’d need it.”

“And yet, you’re here,” Patton teased lightly before turning towards Virgil, extending a hand. “Virgil, there should be a water bottle behind you- think you can hand it to me?”

Virgil did as he was asked, glancing behind him and finding that, yes, perched on the shelf was a metal water bottle covered in snake stickers. He grabbed it and turned back towards Patton, passing them the bottle. Patton took it and turned back to Drew, offering it to him.

“Oh, must I take it?” Drew asked, looking reproachfully at the bottle. “You’re so much nicer to hold.”

“Mmm, you need to get back to work before they catch you slacking,” Patton told him. “I’ll still be around to hold later.”

“Is that a promise?” Drew asked, even as he let his hand fall from Patton’s cheek to take his water bottle.

“Even better,” Patton answered, letting go of Drew’s hand so that they could loop their pinkies together instead. They raised their now joined hands so that they were in easy sight of Drew. “It’s a pinky promise.”

Drew smiled. “Good,” he said, bending his pinky a bit to squeeze Patton’s. “I’m holding you to it,” he punned before reluctantly stepping away, letting his and Patton’s pinkies remain linked until he was forced by distance to let go.

“So,” Virgil spoke up, slightly startling Patton, who had been waving at Drew until he walked out of sight. “You’re not dating them, you lied?”

“I didn’t lie!” Patton defended, moving back towards the broom as they spoke, once more careful to avoid the glass as they stepped. “I’m not dating him! Or Remy!”

“Oh, yeah, because calling each other petnames and trading compliments til you’re both blushing and not wanting to let go of each other and looking at each other like you’re the other’s world is really just ‘best friend’ behaviour,” Virgil said, voice thick with sarcasm.

“We’ve lived in the same apartment for months, Virgil, we’re close!” Patton said as they went back to sweeping. “That doesn’t make us partners.”

Virgil let out a breath. “I know, Pat, but you really should see the way you two were looking at each other. It sure as hell wasn’t plain-ol’ friendly.”

“Language.”

“Stop dodging the point.”

Patton stopped their work, turning to look at Virgil as they rested their chin on the broom handle. “I don’t know what point you think I’m dodging, kiddo. Dee- and Remy- are my friends. They’re dating each other, but I’m not dating them. It’s not that hard to understand.”

Virgil didn’t respond to that at first, instead just blinking slowly at Patton a few times. “I’m starting to understand why Roman was in such a mood,” he finally said as he pushed himself away from the shelves. “If Remy’s half as oblivious as you are, I’d be complaining too.”

“Oblivious about what?” Patton asked, confused. “They know who they’re dating and who they’re not.”

Virgil didn’t answer, instead just chuckling and shaking his head. “I should get back before Kevin decides to be less lenient about my wandering time. See you later, pine-on.”

“Bye, Virge!” Patton said cheerily. “And good pun!”

Virgil responded with a half salute behind his head as he wandered off. Patton watched him off as they resumed their sweeping, focusing on their work and not any of the interactions that had just occurred. Say what he would, Virgil was wrong- Patton’s relationship with Drew and Remy was strictly platonic, and they had no plans to mess with what the three of them did have (an amazing friendship) anytime soon.

~~

Drew dropped his bag before he collapsed against the wall, sliding down it halfway as he let out a huff. Though the day had been no longer than any other, the sun had been much more annoying than usual, and he was ready to be home and surrounded by not only air conditioning but also people he could stand. Absentmindedly he rubbed at the remains of make-up on his face, the only part of his costume he was still in since having changed out at the end of his shift.

“Are you suffering from heatstroke, or just bored?”

Drew looked up, finding Emile in front of him, smiling in amusement.

“A bit of both,” Drew answered truthfully. “Forgot my water bottle at home, though Pat had grabbed it for me at least. But neither their shift nor Remy’s is over for at least another fifteen minutes, so…”

“So I’m just someone to distract you until one of your partners can take over?” Emile asked, teasing.

“My partners in crimes, you mean?” Drew said. “Because I’ve told you before, Em, I really shouldn’t be talking about them here- you’re going to ruin our plan to invade ‘Beauty’s palace and get the treasure.”

“And what treasures are you going to find in there?”

“Hopefully, the key to a full hundred years of rest,” Drew told them before adding, “And gold. Mostly going for the gold.”

“Mhmm.” Emile hummed. “Happy to hear you’ve got your future set. Your criminal enterprises sound like they’re going to go over very smoothly. Now, as to your actual partners…”

“Do you think I’m cheating on my current criminal partners?” Drew asked, sounding offended. “With whom, another team? Emile, I thought you knew me better than that.”

“I think we both know I’m referring to your romantic partners.”

“Ah, yes.” Drew crossed his arms and leaned further back against the wall. “You’re referring to my roommates, who somewhere along the line you got confused as also being my romantic partners. They’re not very good at crime, you know.”

Emile grinned. “Not even good at stealing your heart?”

Drew just waved his hand dismissively. “Patton steals the heart of everyone they meet. Remy is not subtle at all when they go for the steal. Neither of them would make it a day in the world of crime.”

“But you admit that they’ve stolen your heart.”

“I admit they steal everybody’s heart.”

“But not like they’ve stolen yourssssss.”

Drew sighed, pulling his water bottle out of his bag and taking a sip of the water while he waited for Emile to stop. “Don’t be like Virgil and Roman, Emile. You’ve been given the precious gift of actually having a brain cell. Don’t waste it.”

“You can say whatever you want, Drew, but that doesn’t change the truth, even if you’d like to pretend it would,” Emile replied calmly, sounding smug. “We’ve all seen the way you three look at each other. You can’t lie your way out of love truer than that of Tiana, Naveen, and Charlotte’s.”

“Don’t have to lie to tell the truth,” Drew responded, returning his water bottle to its place in his bag. Before Emile could rebuke his words, the door that led outside of the first aid station opened, and two people walked in.

“Excuse me,” Emile said politely to Drew before they headed towards the people. After a brief moment of conversation, Emile walked further into the building with one of them while the other came over towards Drew.

Drew smiled when the newcomer was close enough for him to identify. “Hello, darling.”

Remy returned his smile, leaning against the wall and facing Drew. Remy was clearly off-shift, both costume and nametag removed, and was now sporting a sea-green bracelet. “Good evening, charming. Miss me?”

“Constantly,” Drew answered effortlessly. “I assume the same to be true of you?”

“I miss you every second you’re not in my presence more than the moon misses the sun,” Remy answered, maintaining veir composure for a moment before veir expression broke and ve laughed. “Like that one? I heard someone in the lobby tell it to their husband.”

“It is unbearably cheesy,” Drew told ver. “Though I’m sure also very sweet, if you mean it.”

“Good thing I mean it then,” Remy said jokingly. “People suck. I got yelled at twice today. I missed you and your not-yellingness.”

“Is that all you missed about me?” Drew asked, smile turning sly. “Because I know I miss you for more than just your sometimes-not-annoyingness…”

“Oh really?” Remy asked, shifting so that ve was facing Drew even more. “Well, I miss you for your not-yellingness, and for your looks- scar most certainly included, hun, it makes you look roguish- and for your mind, and your charisma, and, of course, your snark.”

    “You flatter me.”

    “Look in a mirror, sugar, you make it easy,” Remy told him. “Now I’m dying to know why you missed me.”

    “Oh, how could I not?” Drew asked rhetorically. “There’s your charm, as sarcastic as it may be, your humor, your refusal to stand down against idiots, and your sense of fashion- though I must confess, I consider it a sin to hide such dazzling eyes.”

    “Compliment my charm when you’re the real charmer ‘round here- I see how it is,” Remy said playfully, smiling.

    Drew returned the smile. “I’m just telling the truth.”

    “Mhmm,” Remy hummed non-committedly, though veir smile didn’t drop. Ve reached forward, brushing some of Drew’s hair behind his ear before moving to run veir fingers through it. Drew leaned his head closer, allowing ver easier access to his hair as ve pulled it over just one of his shoulders. “Your hair’s a mess.”

    “It’s been in a bun all day.” Drew explained, closing his eyes and focusing on the soft and calming feel of Remy brushing through his hair, occasionally scratching at his scalp. “It got tangled.”

    “Too lazy to fix that problem yourself, sweetheart?”

    “I like it better when you do,” Drew admitted.

    Remy chuckled as ve continued, veir attention turning more towards gentle touches against Drew’s skin as ve worked. “I should braid your hair tonight. Might not tangle as quickly that way.”

    “If we do that, we’ll need to stop at the store on the way home,” Drew said. “Our beloved sunbeam will want to put flowers in my hair, and I do not believe we have any at home.”

    “We already needed to stop for some dinner fixin’s anyways,” Remy told him. “We’ll just add ‘flowers prettier than your face’ to the list, though I’m afraid if we go looking for those we’ll never find them.”

    Before Drew could return the compliment, the sound of approaching steps stopped him. He opened his eyes just enough to see that they belonged to Emile, who was smiling broadly and just a touch satisfiedly at them, before he closed his eyes once more.

    “Hey there, babe,” Remy greeted. “How you?”

    “I’m peachy keen!” Emile answered enthusiastically. “Yourself?”

    Drew didn’t need to see Remy’s face to know that ve was smirking. “I’ve got the prettiest man in the world melting into my touch, so I’d say I’m doing pretty swell.”

    “Bold words from the most gorgeous being to ever grace this planet’s surface,” Drew countered, opening his eyes so he could return Remy’s smirk. “And I’m not ‘melting into your touch,’ I’m giving you easier access to the hair you so wish to tame.”

    “Whatever you say, sugar.” Remy responded casually, right before ve ran veir hand through his hair again, stopping halfway through to press veir fingers against the base of his neck, rubbing just the slightest of circles into his skin, which was cheating, because ve knew perfectly well that was one of his weak points. The motion alone had Drew leaning closer towards Remy, letting out a small sigh that morphed into a huff halfway through.

    “That’s cheating,” Drew said, trying to sound accusing but only succeeding in sounding tired and slightly whiny.

    Remy laughed. “Don’t care, darling, not even a little.”

    Drew hissed at ver, only earning himself another laugh.

    “Well you two certainly seem happy,” Emile pointed out, the slightest hint of trickery in their tone.

    “I’d like to think we are, yes,” Remy said.

    “Not that it’s surprising,” Emile continued, failing to sound very innocent. “I’m sure anyone’d be happy spending time with one of their partners.”

    “I’m sure they would,” Remy said neutrally. “Not sure what that has to do with anything right now-”

    “They’re talking about my partners in crime.” Drew interrupted. “I told them earlier about my plan to raid Sleeping Beauty’s class and steal her secrets to a hundred years of sleep.”

    “I see. Well I do hope you plan on sharing those secrets because goodness knows I could do with a good century of napping.”

    “Goodness and me,” Drew agreed, reaching forward and pushing Remy’s sunglasses up a bit, frowning at how dark the bags under veir eyes were. “Why else would I steal the secrets if not for you?”

    “Awwww, you care,” Remy cooed, tone a mix of goodheartedly mocking and sincere. “And what do you mean, ‘goodness and me’? Hun, you are goodness.”

    “You’re sweet, but we both know that’s Pat.”

    “I don’t see why it can’t be both of you.”

    “This is getting ridiculous!” 

Drew and Remy turned towards Emile at their outburst, Remy tilting veir head to the side in confusion while Drew asked,

    “What is?”

    Emile waved their hands at the roommates. “You two! You three! This!”

    Remy and Drew glanced at each other before looking back at Emile. “This?” Remy asked.

    “You’re so oblivious it puts the Scooby Gang’s obliviousness to Shaggy’s godhood to shame!” Emile said, thoroughly exasperated.

    “I’m sorry what was that-”

    “I mean, look at you two!” Emile said, gesturing at where Remy’s hand was still running through Drew’s hair. “All you do is compliment each other and worry over each other and know exactly what to do to make the other melt into your touch!”

Drew shrugged. “So? We’re friends.”

“And we’ve lived together for months,” Remy added. “Kinda hard to not pick up stuff about each other.” 

“This moved past friendship weeks ago,” Emile told them, crossing their arms. “You can pretend to be sly, but you aren’t.”

“We’re not pretending anything,” Drew replied, raising an eyebrow. “Are you alright, Em? No offense, you seem a little... agitated over this.”

Emile squinted at them. “You’d be agitated if you were me.”

“Huh. Vaguely ominous,” Remy commented idly, unperturbed by the conversation. “You should really talk to Roman though. He’s been having the same misconceptions about me and my roommates’ relationship. I’m sure you two lovelies can find the truth if you talk it out.”

“We’ve already found the truth,” Emile said confidently.

“If you say so,” Remy responded, reaching into veir pocket as ve spoke, pulling out veir phone and checking the time. “Patton’s shift should be over in a couple of minutes. Wanna go greet them?”

“The only sunshine I always want to see,” Drew answered. “Don’t tell them we’re going to braid my hair just yet, though, alright? I’d prefer to surprise them.”

Remy grinned. “Of course, hun.”

Drew returned the grin before shifting over so that he could pick his bag up, ignoring Remy’s protest at his hair moving out of playing-with range. “You do know that going to Patton requires moving, right?”

“I do, but that doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it.”

Drew chuckled as he straightened up, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “You can play more with my hair when we get home, starlight, don’t worry. Come on, let’s go get Pat.”

Remy pouted, but ve still lifted veir arm and allowed Drew to slot himself in against veir side as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Remy’s arm wrapped around the top of Drew’s shoulders, holding him close as they headed towards the doors.

“Have a goodnight, Em,” Drew called over his shoulder right before they left, door lightly thudding as it fell shut behind them.

Emile let out a little huff. “Night-night lovebirds,” they said, even though they knew the couple in question couldn’t hear them. They waited a moment after they left before pulling out their phone, flicking to the group chat they, Roman, and Virgil had lovingly nicknamed ‘operation Get These Gays Together’ (originally known as ‘operation if they don’t get together I’m going to shoot them and then myself’ when Virgil named it) and sending a quick but vital text.

Usually, Emile preferred the passive route. They preferred to push people towards the solution, help them subtly, let them figure it out for themselves with only a bit of their help.

But that method was driving Emile (and Roman and Virgil) insane. They had tried the easy, passive way.

It was time to be aggressive.

~~

The first thing Remy registered upon waking up was that they’d really rather not. The little bit of sun that made its way through their half-open eyelids was already too much and they were almost a hundred percent certain they still needed another five hours of sleep to be anything close to well-rested.

Therefore, immediately after opening their eyes, they shut them once more, rolling over and pushing their face into the surface beneath them to try and drown out all possible light. While this did solve the immediate problem of ‘too much light,’ it presented a new one for them to deal with- the fact that something close to him was warm and moving.

The discrepancy between where they remembered falling asleep last night- on the couch, alone- and where they must be now- somewhere big enough for more than one person to be sleeping, and apparently not alone anymore- was enough to convince Remy to open their eyes again. It was easier if only for the fact that the sun was now behind them, illuminating the sight in front of Remy instead of blinding them.

Remy was unsurprised to find the warm moving ‘thing’ was, in fact, their roommates- Drew curled up against Patton’s back, arms wrapped around their chest, one of Patton’s hands resting on top of Drew’s and their other sprawled out across the bed, almost touching Remy.

The sight made Remy smile. They reached out to lay one of their hands over Patton’s outstretched one, gently rubbing circles and nonsense patterns into their palm while they waited for them to wake up. While they would like to figure out how they ended up in bed instead of on the couch, and while they knew all three of them would eventually have to get up for work, they didn’t see the point in rushing anything. If they were already late for work, hurrying now wouldn’t change that, and Remy had decided long ago that there were few things in the world that mattered to them more than seeing both Drew and Patton rested, relaxed, and happy.

Slowly but surely, Patton began to wake up, shifting around in Drew’s grasp for a moment before their eyes fluttered open and they saw Remy. Upon seeing them, Patton smiled a sleepy but fond smile.

“Good morning, sweetie,” Patton greeted them, yawning partway through their sentence. They twisted their hand a bit so that they could hold Remy’s, beginning to rub circles into the back of Remy’s hand. “You look nice.”

Remy found it doubtful that they, in all their sweatpants, ratty t-shirt, and disheveled hair glory, were looking like anything more than a mess, but they were loath to reject any compliment that came from Patton.

“You look just as cute as always,” they returned, smile growing at Patton’s small giggle at their response. “I am, however, a little curious as to why I’m seeing your beauty right now.”

Patton’s brow furrowed in confusion for a moment before smoothing out as they realized what Remy was asking. “You fell asleep on the couch last night, right?”

“Last I recall, yes, and I’m sorry to say I don’t remember coming to… wherever this is.”

“It’s my room,” Patton answered. “I was cold, and I had pinky-promised Dee we could cuddle. We were goin’ to ask you to join, but you fell asleep while we were putting away the lasagna and we decided we didn’t want to risk waking you to move you. You’re such a light sleeper… and Dee said you hadn’t been sleeping as much recently.”

As Patton finished speaking, they reached out to brush a thumb underneath one of Remy’s eyes, as if they could erase the bags that were there.

Remy reached up with their free hand to catch Patton’s, gently pulling it away from their face and intertwining their fingers instead. “Don’t worry about me, sunshine, I’m fine. Just a few more sleepless nights than usual.”

Patton hummed, clearly not satisfied, but they didn’t say anymore on the topic. “I know I didn’t bring you in here,” they said instead, looking forlornly at the space roughly a foot long between them and Remy. “I wouldn’t have brought you in here for cuddles and then not cuddled you,” Patton explained, sounding melancholy.

In an attempt to at least partially console them, Remy scooted closer to Patton, narrowing the gap to only a few inches. They kept themself from moving all the way against them only because they knew exactly what would happen, knew Patton’s arms would wrap around them and hold them close, trapping them in the cuddle pile they’d have no will nor want to escape, and, as nice as it sounded to let reality drift away as they sank back into sleep so close to their two favorite people in the world, Remy knew they couldn’t, knew they had to be at least a little bit responsible and wake up and go to work and do more than just waste the day away holding each other.

Though damn if that wasn’t a tempting thought.

“So does that mean Dee moved me?” Remy asked.

“He must’ve,” Patton answered before frowning. “Though I don’t ever remember him getting up… here, I’ll just ask him.”

Patton turned over slightly, letting go of one of Remy’s hands so that they could gently shake Drew’s shoulder. “Dee? Dee, honey, do you think you could wake up for me? Please?”

In response, Drew half-groaned, half-yawned, and shifted so that his head was pressed into the crook of Patton’s neck, effectively hiding him from both his roommates and the sun. Patton giggled quietly at his action before they titled their head around and pressed a slightly awkward kiss to the top of Drew’s head. “I know you don’t want to, love, but you’ve gotta get up.”

Drew didn’t respond for a moment, but eventually he sighed, lazily lifting his head away from Patton’s shoulder. He returned Patton’s kiss atop their head before shifting his attention to Remy, blinking blearily as he focused on the third person in the bed.

“Mornin’ darling dearest Dee,” Remy greeted. “Sleep well?”

“Mhmm,” Drew hummed noncommittally, but from the way his arms tightened around Patton, holding them closer, Remy could guess he had slept very well curled up with Patton. “What’re you doin’ here?” he slurred, awake enough to realize Remy should still be out on the couch if not awake enough to speak properly.

“We were kinda hoping you could answer that one, hun,” Remy said. “Because I don’t remember coming in here, and Patton doesn’t remember moving me.”

Drew frowned. “I didn’t move you. Wanted you to sleep.”

“So I’ve heard,” Remy commented, now frowning themself. “So. If none of us put me in the bed, and none of us have any sleep walking and/or possession problems we haven’t told the others about…”

“How did you end up here?” Patton finished for them, completing the trifecta of frowns.

The unanswered question finally convinced Remy to sit up, squinting as they looked around the room for some explanation. It did appear to be Patton’s room, from the animal posters hung on every wall to the rainbow they had painted onto the light switch cover with nail polish, so it was unlikely they had all been kidnapped, which Remy was going to consider a good thing. Something did stand out to Remy, however.

“Hey, Pat, you haven’t put any random notes on your door recently, have you?”

Patton shook their head in confusion. “No. Why do you ask?”

Remy didn’t answer them immediately, instead sliding out of the bed and heading towards the door. Tapped to it was a folded note, ‘to the oblivious gays’ scrawled on the front of it. Remy pulled it off the door, unfolding it and quickly scanning the message inside. When they finished, they groaned.

“I’m disowning all of our friends.” Remy said, tossing the note to the side in annoyance as they grabbed the door handle, trying (and failing) to turn it. They groaned again. “Fuck.”

“Language.” Patton said automatically as Drew pushed their glasses onto their face for them, Patton blinking a few times as they stopped needing to squint at everything. “What is it?”

Remy ran a hand through their hair as they moved to the only window in the room, attempting to open it for a moment before deeming it a lost cause. They sighed and turned back towards the bed. “We’ve been locked in.”

This got both Patton and Drew to sit up, both looking more awake as they frowned at them. “What do you mean, we’ve been locked in?”

“Exactly what I said,” Remy replied, leaning back against the wall behind them. “Our most lovely friends have locked us all in a room together and apparently won’t let us out until we ‘confess’ or some bullsh- bullcrap, because this is 2012 and we’re a story on fanfic-dot-net.”

“Confess?” Patton repeated before realization dawned on their face. “Oh. I- Virgil was talking about that yesterday, but I didn’t think he actually- well I didn’t think he really meant anything by it.”

“Same with Emile,” Drew said. “They talk about it so often I just figured it was some sort of joke for them.”

“Roman was talking about it too,” Remy added unhappily. “He pointedly ignored all my advances as well, which was rude. I like to think my distractions are at least worth one returned flirt.”

A moment of silence stretched out between them before Drew sighed and said, “So they did this, huh.”

“That’s why I’m disowning them, yeah,” Remy informed him. “Also on the list of disownments is my cousin, because apparently he’s the one who gave them the key they used to break in here and set this whole mess up.”

“Logan’s not usually the type to go for this sort of thing,” Drew pointed out.

“He isn’t, but I think he’s still annoyed about that one time I stole all his Crofter’s.” Remy said. “Though now he’s indirectly keeping me from my coffee, so who’s the real monster here?”

“At least you’ve got us,” Drew offered.

Remy smiled at that, annoyed expression softening. “Yeah, that I do,” they agreed, pushing off of the wall and padding back over to the bed, joining the semi-circle and leaning against Patton’s side. Drew wrapped an arm around both Patton’s and Remy’s backs as soon as they were settled, holding the three of them together.

“So now what?” Patton asked after a moment of comfortable silence. “Should we call in to work sick?”

“The note said they’d cover it,” Remy answered with a scoff. “No clue how they plan to do that, but they’ve made it into a them-problem.”

“And when are they going to let us out?” Drew followed up. “Because we’re going to have to eat soon.”

“I have a bag of emergency cookies in the closet, if worse comes to worst,” Patton added.

“Of course you do,” Drew said, though he sounded only fond.

“They said they’ll swing by around lunch to free us and, I quote, ‘congratulate us on the proposals,’” Remy laughed. “Roman’s words, if you couldn’t guess.”

Drew chuckled. “And if we try to break out of our makeshift prison?”

“They’ve stolen our phones and tapped them to the door, so if we break it down, we risk breaking our phones.” Remy explained. “Logan also reminded us that glass is sharp and dangerous when broken so we shouldn’t even think about shattering the window.”

“So no breaking out,” Drew summed up. “Guess we really are stuck here ‘til they return.”

“Yep,” Remy agreed. They turned their head so that they could plant a kiss against the side of Patton’s head. “At least I’m stuck with y’all. Better be trapped with angels than free with demons.” Remy smiled when Patton blushed a shade of red that Remy thought just made them look even prettier.

“Well someone’s getting awfully poetic,” Drew quipped, though he was also blushing.

“It’s what happens when I don’t have my coffee,” Remy said offhandedly. “Deal with it.”

“Only if you accept that you yourself are also an angel.”

“Oh, rude, babe, real rude to ‘u-too’ my own compliment back at me.”

“If you want to make this easier on yourself, just accept it, my dear,” Drew advised. “I can wax just as poetic as you can, and will if I think I must.”

Remy sighed, holding out the sound for a moment before they folded. “Fiiiine, I’m an angel.” They leaned around Patton, getting close enough that they could press a kiss to Drew’s forehead. “But you’re still the prettier one.”

Drew gasped dramatically at that, but before he could respond, Patton sighed, sounding fond and vaguely melancholy. Remy pulled back from Drew just enough to look at Patton.

“Aw, our sunshine feeling left out?” Remy asked teasingly, kissing Patton’s forehead as well and wrapping their arms around Patton’s waist. “Don’t worry sweetheart, you’re just as pretty as Dee.”

“Oh, no, it’s not that, I promise!” Patton reassured them with a laugh. “You two are just so cute together, that’s all.”

“We’re all cute together,” Remy said, pressing a quick peck of a kiss to Patton’s chin. “Helps that we’re all cute.”

Patton laughed again. “No, I mean- together-together, you know? You’re a good couple.”

Remy and Drew reacted to that, both glancing at each other in confusion and uncertainty. “Couple as in two people, or…?” Drew asked.

Patton raised an eyebrow, now looking confused themself. “I mean, I guess that too, but I mean- well, I mean romantically.”

Another uncertain glance between the supposed ‘couple.’ Remy laughed awkwardly. “Hate to break it to ya, hun, but I think I’d know if I was dating such a cutie.”

“Same here,” Dee echoed.

“Oh. Oh!” Patton said, blushing red now in embarrassment. “I’m so sorry, you just- the way you act together, I- you’re so comfortable together-”

“We’re all comfortable together,” Drew pointed out, albeit quieter than he had been speaking a moment ago.

“I know, you just- I- oh, I’m so sorry!” Patton repeated, hiding their face in Drew’s shoulder. “I feel so silly,” they added, their voice now muffled.

Remy chuckled, reaching forward to card their fingers through Patton’s hair. They scooted a little closer to them as they scratched at their scalp as well. “Don’t worry about it, honey-love. Everybody makes mistakes.”

“No, it’s not that, I just…” Patton cut themself off before actually getting to their point, shaking their head a bit before they pressed their face even further into Drew’s shoulder.

“Oh, come now, beloved,” Drew coaxed, rolling his shoulders and trying to convince Patton to lift their head. “You don’t have to hide anything from us, much less your beautiful face or heavenly voice.”

“It’s silly,” Patton whined, just loud enough to be understood. Remy laughed gently, brushing their hair to the side so they could kiss the back of their neck.

“That’s okay. We’re not going to make fun of you or anything,” Remy assured them.

Drew leaned over and kissed the top of Patton’s head, pulling back only a little. “What’d you say, love? Can I see those pretty, pretty eyes?”

It took another moment of Remy playing with their hair and Drew sweet talking Patton before they were convinced, slowly lifting their head up just enough so that Drew could see their eyes. Drew smiled at them. “There you go. Isn’t this nicer?”

A little smile slipped onto Patton’s face. “Your eyes are much, much more gorgeous than the fabric of your shirt, yes.”

“I should hope so,” Drew replied, leaning his forehead against Patton’s. “Now, I’m sure both me and our lovely moonbeam are very curious as to what’s got you trying to hide from us.”

“Yeah, sugar, you’re not usually like this,” Remy added, though they didn’t sound worried, just sweet. “What’s got you feeling so silly and shy?”

Patton rested their cheek on Drew’s shoulder, looking between their roommates. “Promise you won’t hate me?”

“We could never,” Drew and Remy said at the same time.

Patton nodded, took a breath, squirmed a little in place, and finally said, “Y’know how I’ve never really said that you guys are together, even if I had no reason not to say it?”

“Uh… yes?” Remy answered, sounding slightly baffled by the question.

“Yeah, well… there was a reason for that.”

“...Okay?” Drew said, tone matching Remy’s.

“It’s because I didn’t really want to accept the fact that you two were together.”

Twin silence from Drew and Remy. Patton let out a little sigh, sounding more amused than annoyed.

“I didn’t like acknowledging the fact that you were both taken,” A pause to give their roommates a chance to finish for them; when neither of them spoke, Patton continued, “because I didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that you were both taken but neither of you were taken with me.”

Another pause, another stretch of silence as Drew and Remy each processed Patton’s words, the confessor themself once more hiding against Drew’s shoulder. Then- dawning understanding.

“Oh,” Remy said first, looking at Drew with wide eyes. “Oh. Patton, I-”

“It’s really okay if neither of you feel the same, really, I don’t even expect you too, we’re friends, and that’s what we’ve always said we were and always been, and that doesn’t need to change I just-” Patton laughed, slightly breathless as they tried to fit everything they wanted to say in only the space of a few seconds, “I just feel silly that I never even bothered to tell you guys because I thought you were dating, that’s all.”

It was quiet as Drew and Remy processed that, Drew looking at the bed as he thought while Remy looked off at the wall, clearly lost in their thoughts. It only took a moment for them to sort them, however.

“Hey, Patton?” Remy said, getting Patton to lift their head once more from Drew’s shoulder and look at them, Patton’s expression a mix of pained and hopeful. Remy reached forwards, cupping one of Patton’s cheeks with one of their hands, smiling a little stupidly as they did so. “Wanna hear a silly little secret of my own?”

Patton's eyes widened, suggesting that they knew exactly what the secret was, but they still said, in a quiet, almost awed voice, “What?”

Remy giggled, just a little, reaching out with their other hand as well and holding Patton’s face in both their hands as they answered, “I have a crush on both my roommates too,” they said in a mock-whisper, as if they were at a sleepover and they were all twelve. “I never told them because I thought they weren’t interested in me like that, but recently I’m starting to think I might be wro-”

Remy’s confession was cut off by Patton letting out a little squeal of excitement, pushing themself forward so that they could wrap their arms around Remy’s midsection, knocking them over and ending up with them both sprawled across the bed. Remy had just barely recovered from the action when Patton started peppering kisses across their face, going over their forehead and both their cheeks before they ended with a kiss on their lips, one that was brief but still sweet and loving and warm and undeniably Patton.

“You jerk.” Patton said, though there wasn’t a hint of heat in their tone as they laughed. “Why didn’t you tell me this three months ago?!”

“I had this whole friendship thing going on that I didn’t want to ruin!” Remy defended with a laugh of their own. “Though, if I had known that’d be your reaction, I’d have gone off and ruined our friendship long ago, sweetness.”

Patton’s smile broke into a grin and they kissed the tip of Remy’s nose, eliciting a quick but joyful giggle from them. “You’re forgiven for your slowness in telling me for how utterly perfect you are.”

“Why thank you, angel,” Remy said, pushing themself up just enough to give Patton a fast nose kiss as well. “But don’t you think we’re missing something- or, better put, someone- from this ‘perfect’?”

Patton’s eyes widened at the reminder. “Oh my gosh, you’re right!” they said before turning around to look at Drew. He was still sitting in the same spot he had been. It was clear he had been watching Patton and Remy, but upon them turning their attention to him, he seemed to suddenly find the entire rest of the room much more interesting to look at.

“Dee?” Patton said, forcing the aforementioned to turn his attention back to them or risk being rude to one of the people he was currently locked in a room with.

“Yes?” Drew asked, trying to sound aloof and neutral. He failed horribly, however, his voice coming out as something closer to mock-formal.

“Me and Remy have both made our confessions… do you have one of your own?” Patton asked, once more sounding hesitant.

When Drew didn’t respond instantly, Remy rushed to add, “It’s completely alright if you don’t, of course. No pressure whatsoever, we can still be friends, it’s just- well, not to sound like the people who locked us up in here in the first place, but I kinda feel like that’s not really what we should be.”

“I-” Drew started before cutting himself off, looking down as he fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “I do love you guys, really; I mean, who couldn’t after living with you for so long, you’re too incredible not to love, but… I don’t know how I love you.”

“...Care to elaborate?” Remy pushed after a minute stretched in silence.

Drew shifted in place. “I guess… we’ve spent our entire friendship doing everything a couple might do- spending time together, learning each other’s favorite things, getting stupidly domestic, literally sleeping together, cuddling, sharing little kisses, and I just… don’t know if I love you romantically or not.”

“Alright,” Patton said slowly, nodding their head before frowning. “I’m… not sure how to figure that out.”

“Me neither,” Remy admitted. “There must be something romantic we haven’t done with you, right?

Drew shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ve covered all of the bases, as far as I can tell. No wonder everyone thought we were dating…”

“Not all of them,” Patton said, pulling Drew out of his barely started musings. They smiled at him, softly and sweetly and just a bit shyly. “Dee?”

“...Yes?”

“Do you want to kiss us?”

“Kiss you- I already have kissed you, what do you…” Drew cut himself off as he realized what Patton meant, his cheeks quickly turning a crimson red.

Remy chuckled as they sat up, Patton shifting a bit to their side so that they could properly sit up. “Hate to put words in your mouth, sweetheart, but I’mma guess that means yes?”

“I… yeah, yeah it does,” Drew conceded, chuckling a little awkwardly. “That sounded awfully charming.”

“Everything you say is charming when you’re a charmer,” Patton responded, and Drew’s cheeks turned a shade darker as the awkwardness in his expression relaxed into something more akin to soft adoration.

Patton patted the bed directly in front of them and Remy. “Come over here, lovely.”

Drew did so willingly, pulling himself over so that he was once more part of the group. Patton smiled tenderly at him as he settled himself before reaching out and gently taking his face in their hands.

“Stop me if you need to, okay?” Patton said. Drew half-laughed, half-scoffed.

“I doubt I’ll want you to stop, much less need you to,” he told them, and Patton smiled wider at him before leaning in, their careful and loving hold on Drew’s face holding him still until their lips were connected.

The kiss was longer than Patton and Remy’s had been, more planned, but it was still just as welcoming and comfortable, as if this wasn’t their first kiss but instead their hundredth; somehow both oddly familiar and excitingly new.

Without even realizing it, Drew found himself leaning it, placing his hands on Patton’s waist to hold steady as he did so, more than happy to drown in the kiss as much as he could.

Patton pulled away when he was reaching the edge of breathlessness, smiling brightly at Drew even as they moved back, still holding his face. “How was that?”

“I love you,” Drew said as an answer, letting out a laugh in the form of a huff as he went on, “Oh, god be damned, Patton, I love you.”

“Language,” Patton chided lightly, though they both knew it meant nothing.

“Hey now,” Remy spoke up, drawing Drew and Patton’s attention. They were pouting, though amusement flashed in their eyes. “I’m feeling a little forgotten over here.”

“Forget you?” Drew asked, normally suave tone now simply breathless and incredulous. “I could never.”

“Then prove it,” Remy demanded, reaching out and making grabby hands at Drew despite the fact that he was barely two feet from them. Drew didn’t mind it, however, simply laughing at the display of affection. He gently took Patton’s hands off his cheeks, kissing the back of both of them (to the delight of Patton) before releasing them and closing the small gap between him and Remy.

“There you are,” Remy said, as if Drew had been hiding somewhere far off and not simply kissing their partner (their partner, not just his partner but Remy’s too) instead of Remy. “Do I get kisses now?”

Drew laughed. “Yes,” he said, not bothering to drag the moment out as he reached forwards, cupping one of Remy’s cheeks in his hand and pulling them closer. “You get kisses now.”

He kept to his promise as he kissed Remy, not holding it out for one long kiss like he and Patton had done but instead kissing them over and over and over again, quick little kisses that lasted seconds but still meant worlds to the both of them, that were still caring and inviting and loving even if they were brief. It worked better that way, Drew decided, especially when Remy evidently grew bored of just kissing his lips and moved on to covering the rest of his face with kisses instead.

“I’m starting to think I really am a jerk for not confessing anything sooner,” Remy said when they had, apparently, deemed Drew’s face properly kissed, now pulled back so that they could look Drew in the eyes as they grinned lopsidedly. “I’ve been severely neglecting giving you- and Patton- all the kisses you two deserve.”

“Not that that ever stopped you when we were friends,” Patton pointed out, leaning against Remy’s side and reaching out to hold one of Drew’s hands as well.

“That’s because even then I knew I was making a mistake,” Remy said, happily taking advantage of the fact that Patton was once more close to them to kiss their forehead.

“I just can’t believe the people who locked us up had it right,” Drew said, squeezing Patton’s hand as the hand he had been using to cup Remy’s cheek moved to hold one of Remy’s hands. “We really have been horribly oblivious, huh?”

Remy laughed. “I’d say that’s pretty accurate, yeah,” they agreed before smiling mischievously. “We’re not going to let them know that though, right?”

“Oh, goodness, of course not,” Drew responded. “Otherwise they might start thinking locking people up will always work, or, even worse, they might get an ego boost.”

“I think Roman will explode if that happens- his ego’s already big enough as is,” Patton added. Drew’s and Remy’s attention immediately turned to them, both looking shocked, to which Patton defended, “What? I can be petty towards our friends too!”

Drew chuckled as he quickly kissed Patton’s cheek. “That you can, dearheart, that you can.”

“It’s not like you’re wrong either,” Remy pointed out. “Really, letting Roman know this planned work might kill him. We’re just going to have to pretend it didn’t, for his sake.”

Patton and Drew both nodded as solemnly as they could given the circumstances. “I vote that we tell them this experience has really brought us closer together in our friendship instead,” Drew offered. “That way we can still be horribly obnoxious-” Drew paused to peck quick kisses to each of his partners’ noses to prove his point before continuing “-and also keep Roman and his ego safe.”

“A perfect plan,” Patton agreed. “Though… what do we do if they catch us calling each other partners?”

“We tell them how we decided we really felt like ‘friends’ no longer properly described how close our friendship was, so we decided to start using partners,” Remy answered immediately with a grin. “Really, we can turn anything into just another extent of our ‘friendship’ is we try hard enough. The real question is for how long do we do that? When do we give them their satisfaction?”

Drew hummed in thought for a moment before he said, a wicked smile racing his face as he spoke, “I’d say we’ll have to wait them out at least until we get married. We can tell them it’s for tax benefits.”

“We’re going to get married?!” Patton exclaimed, eyes shining at the thought.

“Well, I mean-” Drew floundered for a moment, clearly having gotten so caught up in how to best taunt their friends that he hadn’t even considered the implications of what he had said “-we’ve only just got together, but- if this lasts and we don’t regret anything, well-”

“We’re going to get married!” Patton repeated, this time with no question in their tone, tugging Drew closer to themself and pulling Remy closer as well so that they were all squished against each other. “We’re going to get married and we’re going to move out and find a better apartment with one huge bed- oh, or we could get a house with one big bed, and we’re going to adopt a dog- no, two dogs- no, ten dogs!- and-”

Drew gently stopped Patton’s rant by kissing them until they were breathless, resting his forehead against theirs when he finished. “And we’ll drive our friends absolutely insane with what a lovely life we’ll be living,” he added softly.

Remy moved to press their forehead against both of their partners’. “And we’ll be in love forever,” they added, which was an extraordinarily cheesy thing to say, but in the moment, it also felt like the right thing to say.

In fact, pressed against the two most important people in the world to them, still feeling giddy at everything that had happened in the span of barely fifteen minutes, Remy felt as if, for the first time in a long time, absolutely everything was just as it should be.

They were looking forward to getting used to that feeling.

[miraclesnail]

1000 Ways and I Can Name You One

A thousand ways to tell the Stoll brothers apart and I can name you one. Travis and Connor centric oneshots featuring characters from PJO/HOO.

Chapter 32: Michael - Food 

Plus the whole 9.7k fic under the read more but with funky formatting 

Michael — Food

Michael (14) — Travis (13) — Connor (13)

Early June 2007

Pre Sea of Monsters

[8:07 AM]

The whole drive to Camp, Lee has been saying the weirdest things. 

‘This camp is special.’

‘This camp is for children of Greek gods and goddesses.’

‘This camp helps the said children harness the godly gifts inherited from said gods and goddesses.’

‘This camp is top secret and no matter what, you cannot tell your mother about Camp Half Blood. Not a word. Not a complaint. Not even a compliment. Michael? Are you listening? Ar—are you laughing?! Michael, I’m not joking around. This is not a joke.’

Did Michael take Lee seriously? Not at all. Not even to humor him. What does Lee take him for? An idiot? Like, he doesn’t really have many friends at school (none actually) but even he knows when someone is trying to pull a prank on him. Lee typically goes for jump scares, but it’s good to see him broaden his horizon and try new things. 

Yeah. 

Michael wholeheartedly believes Lee is 100% kidding around. 

It’s kind of a shock when he walks through the camp and sees flowers being grown in someone’s palms, men with hooves and horns trotting around, a goddamn girl rising from the lake like some kind of b-grade horror movie but minus the sunken eyes and gray skin and tattered white dress. 

It’s a big shock. Kinda earth-shattering actually. Very disorientating. It’s taking all his mental capability to process the fact that the Greek gods are real , that the Greek myths are real , that his atheist beliefs are all wrong and holy fuck?? God is real . 

It’s probably why when that SOB Shermie or Sherlock or whatever his name is picked a fight, he welcomed the easy distraction and picked one right back. 

In hindsight, he should have maybe exhibited more self-control. 

“He shoved me.”

The utter stare of incredulity has Michael quickly rephrasing his initial statement, fiddling with a loose string on his t-shirt. 

“He shoved me first. ”

“And so you decided to turn it into a slugfest?” Lee says, arms crossing as they stand on Cabin 11’s porch. 

“To be fair, to be fair,” Michael says, scrambling for excuses as his eyes dart from cabin to cabin, “to be really fair, that Sherm-guy started it.”

Lee didn’t buy it, not that Michael expected him too. 

“You promised me, Michael,” Lee says, disappointed, and Michael looks away with guilt. 

He did promise Lee. Right before they left the apartment complex, Lee explicitly said, “Promise me, Michael, that you’ll be on your best behavior?” And he said he will. 

“Mike, I don’t want any phone calls from the head honcho again, okay?” his mom said, exasperated. He said there wouldn’t be any.

“Mikey, please tell us all the fights you’ll get into!” his four little siblings — Leo, Raphie, Carly, and Sam — screamed together with cheeky, smug, knowing grins as he got into the car with Lee. He said ‘in your dreams.’ 

Not even one full hour and he failed two out of three. Possibly all three if Travis and Connor decide to hand his ass to the director. 

“I’m really sorry, Lee,” Michael says, head lowering, “I promise for real this time. I won’t get into any more fights. I swear.” 

Like clockwork, the frown and crossed arms drop for a bright smile and a hair ruffling, like he actually believed Michael can do it. Lee’s weird like that. He believes in people and their lies despite what their actions are saying, believes in him even with the 14 years of experience that Michael cannot follow through on that promise. 

It’s that same idealistic, stupid belief that has Lee clinging to the hope his birth mom will one day want to actually be a mom. 

Michael slinks back into the cabin as quietly as he can. Miranda catches his eye and waves him over, patting the empty spot next to her. Michael hesitates (still remembers the way she tosses a boy a whole head taller than her like nothing) but thought better of it. 

The promise, he thinks. Remember your promise. 

He sees Sherman sitting on Miranda’s other side. As he slides down to sit cross-legged, he’s mentally preparing himself for a jeer. But Sherman is just staring at Miranda, wide-eyed and star-struck and totally ignoring him which is perfectly fine with Michael. 

Miranda angles her body towards him, a slight smile on her face as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I just want to warn you that you’re in Connor’s bad book right now.”

“Should I be worried?” Michael says, glancing at the brothers talking on one of the upper bunk beds.

To which Miranda smiles sweetly. “You should keep your head down. I heard he gets a bit prank-crazy with people he doesn’t like.”

A sharp whistle brings his attention upfront. 

“Okay, so hey, everybody! Exciting first day, I know. Welcome to Camp Half Blood,” one of the pair says with a big grin, standing on top of the upper bunk bed. The other sits at the edge, feet swinging over. “We’re already late for breakfast so I’ll make this super-duper quick. My name is Travis Stoll. I am one of your head counselors. This is Connor, my little brother.” 

Connor waves, his smile matching Travis’s.

“I’m also your counselor. Any problems you guys have whether it be life problems, camp problems, prank problems, you can come to us. Lucky for you guys, you have two of us. Most cabins just have one,” Connor says. 

“Where’s Luke?” someone in the back yells. 

“Luke is gone now. If you see him, either in person or in a dream, tell us right away. Please come talk to me after this meeting if you want more details,” Connor answers, still cheerful but Michael kinda feels like his words are too curt. There’s definitely bad blood between this Luke person and them.

“Moving on,” Travis follows after, “the beds are all taken. Any more fighting over them will result in the instigator getting a timeout. For everybody else, sleeping bags are available and we will make room. Your stuff can be placed in the closet or tucked in your sleeping bag. I know this cabin’s patron is the god of thievery, but please show respect and decency towards your fellow cabinmates and don’t steal from each other. Steal from other cabins instead. Apollo’s kids are the easiest to steal from. So are Aphrodite’s if you want to practice before moving onto the big leagues. Athena’s and Hephaestus’s cabins are where the real challenge is.”

“What about the claiming rate? Someone said the gods would claim us more now,” a girl asks, standing from her sitting position with a bounce, hope in her eyes. 

“Uh, um...” Travis falters, looking down at Connor for guidance. It’s hard to notice but Connor bites his cheeks and just barely shakes his head.

“Claiming, yeah. I’m not too sure about that. I’ll talk with Chi — Tantalus about that. Tantalus is the activity director now in case you all don’t know,” Travis answers. 

There’s a chorus of groans. 

Someone grumbles, “It’s been years.”

“What happened to Chiron?” another asks.

“Temporarily relieved of duty due to, uh, an investigation of his effectiveness on the job. Which, if you ask me, Chiron has been doing a fantastic job of and we should all write a very strongly worded letter to Zeus to get him back on his job.”

A boy in front of Michael shoots his hand up. 

“I heard Luke went all ‘Anakin Skywalker’ on us and joined Kr—”

Connor blows an air horn and interrupts the boy before he could finish. Travis’s smile is strained as he says, “Okay, first rule on Camp Half Blood for the foreseeable future! No mentioning any of the bad guys by name. Names have power. Instead we will refer to him by initials. The evil titan guy will be called K.T. K for his first letter and T because he controls time.” 

“Can we change it to K.K. Slider?” the same boy says.

Beside him, a girl socks the boy in the arm. “No! How dare you sully K.K.’s name like this?”

But Travis is already jumping down his bed, landing with grace. “K.K. Slider it is. That’s all for the morning announcements. Now everybody gets in a straight line. We’re going to the pavilion for breakfast and it is the best thing ever. You can literally get whatever you want. All you need is the power of imagination. Well, imagination and common sense. Don't imagine something you won’t eat. It’s not a contest to create the grossest food.” 

Connor follows down after his brother with a grin and shrugs. “But if it was, I would win.”

Growing up, Michael is what everybody called a ‘problem child.’ Absolutely zero friends not helped by him picking and starting fights for the ‘smallest’ reasons. No remarkable talent except for his athleticism. Mediocre to poor grades due to inability to focus (and it doesn’t help that he’s dyslexic and that his teachers all hate him and that he has a homing device for all the school’s bullies). 

The teachers blamed his mother for his attitude and academic abilities. But they don’t know shit. His mother helps him with his homework after coming back from work. His mother searches for ways to help him manage his ADHD and dyslexia. His mother is raising five kids all by herself with zero help from his deadbeat dad. Going to their extracurricular activities, funding their education, making time to have game and movie nights. His mother is literally Superman for finding time to do all that across five children. No. Make that six. Mom always attends Lee’s band performances and includes him with all their activities and outings and supports him the way Lee’s own mom should be doing. 

Michael’s pretty sure his mom isn't the problem.

Besides his four younger siblings are literal angels. Clearly, the problem is him. Not his mother. 

That’s why going into high school he had every intention of becoming a better son, a better brother, and a better student. Set a better reputation for his family, you know?

Unfortunately, this whole mess with him being half-god kinda put a pause on his plans. 

And put every weird thing Lee ever did into perspective. 

That one time Lee slapped his brand new Nokia cellphone out of his hands and ended his cell’s short life by stomping the hell out of it? Those dozens of times Lee lectured him about not using technology with his stupid excuse of ‘it rots your brain, Michael. Don’t touch it,’ despite Lee himself using a phone and a laptop on a daily basis?? Those hundreds of times Lee excused himself from dinner, movies, and the middle of game nights to ‘use the bathroom’ and coming back with a thin layer of gold dust??? Those weird dreams he gets of standing on top of a broken, tethering bridge and falling thousands of meters to his death in a ravine and Lee saying, ‘it’s just a dream. Don’t worry about it’ with a high-pitched, forced laugh that says he should be worrying????

Now he sees what it was all about. Obviously a metaphor for the earth-shattering revelation of his heritage. 

He’s half- god . A demigod. Some part of him came from an immortal being.

It makes him see his dad in a whole new light. 

Like, Michael always knows his dad is an asshole, leaving his mom and whatnot. 

But now? Knowing his dad is a literal god in the Greek myths he read back in 6th grade? Those freaky assholes with their crazy sex adventures and ego-driven tantrums?

At least the fantasy asshole dad he had in mind didn’t commit mass genocide or is an egotistical, narcissistic jerk or had sex with their siblings, parents, animals, and who knows what else freaky shit the gods like to stick their dick in to. 

And the most bizarre thing is that he’s expected to honor them by throwing the best parts of his meal into the fire. 

Well, he’s not gonna.

“Throw your food into the fire, Mike,” one of his counselors says beside him as he tosses a bag of M&M into the flames. 

“Why should I?”

“So the gods don’t get angry,” says the other counselor, throwing half of his strawberries — Michael stares at the plate. It’s just strawberries. Nothing else. That’s not healthy — into the fire before turning to help the others. 

“They’re gonna threaten us if we don’t worship them? Sounds like a pretty unhealthy parent-child relationship,” Michael says. 

The one that tossed the M&Ms shrugs. “Just toss something in. It can be anything. Even something you ha— don’t care about. That’s what I do. I don’t think Hermes minds.” 

But what Michael hears is that this Hermes fella doesn’t give a shit. 

A small boy with round glasses wedges in between them, frowning, and tosses in a sausage link. “Don’t listen to Connor. You’re never going to be claimed if you listen to him.” 

Connor shrugs again. “Hermes hasn’t disowned me yet.”

“That’s because Hermes is busy with other things. The other gods don’t have a child plotting to usurp—” the kid starts to say but at Connor’s harsh nudging and loud cough and not so subtle nod towards the others in the pavilion and (kind of scary) glare, he shuts up. A second passes before the boy says to him, “Everybody likes to feel appreciated, Michael. Even gods. It’s good to remind them we’re here for them. Now more than ever.”

Michael frowns at the exchange. Child? Usurp? Usurp who? The gods? Yeah. Like that is even possible. 

“What were you trying to say—”

“So I see you got over your embarrassing loss,” Connor interrupts with this infuriating smug grin. “Man, I would have hidden my face for like a year after the way I kicked your ass.” 

And just like that, Michael forgets everything but that day back in March when he met the brothers. It’s an obvious bait and Michael just lunges for it like the dumb fish he is. 

“No, I kicked your ass. Kicked it all the way down the stairs,” Michael huffs at Connor’s heel as they walk to the table. Connor slides into the first open spot he sees and Michael sits down across from him, elbow to elbow to his cabinmates. They need a bigger picnic table. 

“Ass?” Besides Connor, Miranda’s head swivels to face them, her smile innocent but Michael knows better now. Behind that sweet smile is a demon. “Who kicked whose ass? ” 

“We met Michael back in March when we hopped in Lee’s car and we’re not using that language, Mikey,” Travis says, sitting down beside Connor slurping a mouthful of cereal. 

“So? Who won?” Miranda asks, leaning over to slide scrambled eggs onto Travis’s plate and picking off 75% of Travis’s many, many strawberries from his plate. 

Travis stares at the egg with disdain. “Connor won, of course. And I don’t want that. Take it back.” 

“Will said you need something more than just strawberries in the morning. Doctor’s orders. Disobey and you’ll feel his wrath,” Miranda says. 

For half-a-second, Michael thinks Travis is going to fight but he turns back in his seat and just grabs his fork. 

“There’s nothing wrong with just strawberries for breakfast,” Travis grumbles, stabbing his fork into the scrambled eggs. “Right? Nothing wrong with strawberries.”

“I think that depends on the quantity but don’t worry, Travis. I totally got you,” Connor says, pulling out a basket of strawberries and ducking from Miranda’s sudden lunge for it. With ease, Connor holds Miranda back while Travis indulges in his unhealthy obsession with a satisfied, blissed smile. 

Michael thinks of the half Travis threw into the fire and before he knows it, he’s saying, “You really love strawberries, don’t you?” 

Travis nods, mouth full. “Favorite food in the world.”

“Then you must like your—” 

But Travis’s eyes shoot to a girl entering the pavilion, heading straight towards the table with the plant-speaking kid, and Michael knows his words are falling on deaf ears. Travis nudges Connor and whispers into his ear, a shit-eating grin sprouting on Connor’s face as he looks over his shoulder. 

Miranda catches their grins and stands, yelling, “Katie, wait!”

But Katie sits down and Michael hears what is probably the world’s loudest, strongest whoopee cushion rip through the pavilion. Travis and Connor laugh as Katie stands back up, cushion in hand and face flushed tomato red.

“Welcome back, Miss Tattletale!” Travis yells. 

“That was months ago, you pieces of — of — fertilizers! Give me a break!” Katie roars. The ground rumbles as a tree sprouts beside the table, hooking Travis and Connor up by the back of their shirts. They’re way too calm as they’re dangling several feet in the air. In unison, both brothers pull out squirt guns and aim them at Katie. 

And it is definitely not water judging by the smell. 

[9 AM, Sword Fighting]

Lee said he was a demigod. That monsters are real. And that they sometimes must fight off the monsters that come to eat them. 

Michael never really thought about what it entailed. What they’re supposed to fight the monsters with. 

Dimly, he’s aware of his counselors talking. Something about introduction to swordsmanship and the bare basics plus safety today, then tomorrow they will be training with Ares? Apollo? ‘Some god with the letter A’ cabin and learning a few techniques. He isn’t really paying attention to them as he stares at the blade in his hands. 

It’s real. It’s a real, metal blade. And by the looks of it, everyone has one. Even the little 9-year-old. What the fuck? That’s how old the twins, Sam and Carly, are and holy shit. The thought of them with a real sword? The thought of them having to use it to battle some mythical monster? It's enough to make him vomit. 

“Michael? Michael, hey.” Someone is snapping their fingers in front of his eyes and he knocks the hand away, glaring at … at … well, it’s either Travis or Connor, staring at him blankly, but he can’t tell who’s who yet. They should have worn nametags. 

“What?”

“Have you ever used a sword before?”

Michael kinda felt it should have been obvious, but he shakes his head. 

“Okay, well imagine you’re holding a kitchen knife and you’re cutting some veggies for a veggie soup but instead of a broccoli, it’s a monster and instead of small dainty cuts, you’re making big, wide, full power slashes. So nothing like what I told you to imagine. Forget I said that. You want to grip it like this with both hands—” Connor (or Travis?) demonstrates and Michael mimics the action, “—for the most control. You can try one-handed but the strikes tend to be flimsy at best unless you’re gifted like Clarisse or Percy. You want to kill the monsters as fast and in one go as you can while still being safe. Here’s—” he is walked over to a hand-made, hand-stuffed dummy with straws sticking out its seams. A happy face on a yellow sticky note stuck to where it’s head is. “—a practice dummy for you. Give it a few swings and get a feel for the weapon. I’ll be right back with more pointers after helping everyone. You good to be by yourself a bit?”

Then Travis (Connor?) is leaving after Michael hesitates to say ‘no, I’m not good’, taking off with a thumbs up and a crooked grin.

Michael almost called him back, but they’re a big cabin.  Only a quarter of them have been gotten too, the other three-fourths goofing around while waiting their turn. Michael has never been to a summer camp before, nevermind one as strange as this, but he guesses they’re on a tight schedule. 

So he looks down, readjusts his grip, and swings, missing spectacularly, losing his balance, and nearly taking his eye out. 

[10:00 AM, Archery]

Michael didn’t need much help here.

The bow feels right in his hands. His body knows what to do, his arms pull back the bow like it has done this a million times and his first shot lands dead center in the bullseye. 

The next five shots are the same.

“Woah,” his counselor mutters, face scrunched in thought before it lightens up, blue eyes shining with a gleam. “You’re a natural. Hey, you wanna be the archery tutor? I’ve never seen anyone aim so well and had such perfect form. Not even Annabeth.”

Michael lowers the bow and tries to figure out how he did what he just did despite never once using a bow before in his life. 

[11:00 AM, Greek Mythology]

Michael knew Lee was a decent teacher, tutoring him in both English and Math, so it’s no surprise he’s decent at teaching Greek mythology too. All the campers are in the amphitheater with hand made wooden desks courtesy of the girl from breakfast. Lee is in the center with an overhead projector just having the time of his life explaining what each of the 12 Olympians plus Hades represents with a mind map. 

He tries to pay attention. He really did. He gets through listening to Zeus, Poseidon, Hades, and part of Demeter’s history before his attention is pulled away by Travis and Connor. They’re far away from the group, beside the cabins,  hunched over a … birdbath? It looks like they’re arguing to the birdbath, but Michael squints and with his perfect vision sees that there is a person. On the surface of the birdbath. A girl with blonde hair. There’s a girl in the water of the birdbath. 

There’s a girl. In the water. Of a birdbath. 

Maybe he shouldn’t be so surprised. Food pops into existence with a thought. A girl can grow fullass trees without blinking an eye. Miranda can toss a boy almost twice her weight over her shoulder.

So what if the camp has a Moaning Myrtle?

Before he knows it, Lee is done, Michael misses the other 8 Olympian’s tales, and everybody is packing up their notes to head back to their respective cabins.

They’re ending early to have enough time for a tour of the camp. Which is kind of telling where their priorities are when they hold training first over the tour. 

It’s kind of even more telling what the camp’s view of safety is when there’s a climbing wall that spews lava and when asked about why there’s lava, Travis and Connor say cheerfully in unison,  ‘it’s more exciting that way.’

“Hey, Travis,” a kid starts, tugging on one of the brother’s sleeves. 

“I’m Connor, but yeah?” Connor corrects, turning to face the camper.

“Um, I heard from someone in the Ares Cabin that because of us, we’re in war with Kro—K.K. Is that true?”

Connor smiles and shakes his head. “No. We didn’t do anything.”

He didn’t refute the war part though. 

And as if Connor hears his thoughts, he addresses the cabin, “You don’t have to fight if you don’t want to. But monsters are still a thing so you still have to go to the morning training. No way out of those. Sorry.”

[12:30, Lunch]

Michael is starting to think Travis is some kind of strawberry fanatic and that’s putting it lightly. 

There’s another concerning amount of strawberries on his plate coupled with a grilled cheese sandwich and a salad, yes, but that’s way too many strawberries for one day.

“No such thing,” Travis says, scraping half of his ungodly amount into the fire. 

“I think there is a limit though.” Connor shrugs, tossing a bag of M&M right after.

Michael follows them to the table, even more cramped now. Five new campers, unclaimed, arrived late because of road traffic. He tucks himself into the first opening he sees, shoulder to shoulder and elbow to elbow. Many inches too close in his opinion. 

“Travis,” Michael starts, thinking back to breakfast, “You’re claimed, right? You know who your godly parent is?”

“Yup, Hermes. God of Pranksters,” Travis says, stabbing his fork into a lettuce and turning to wave it at Lee’s table which is much more roomier. Lee catches the action and nudges a boy beside him with an elbow, snickering. The boy turns and rolls his eyes at Travis. 

“You like your dad, right?” Michael asks. 

A quarter of the cabin immediately stops talking and not really subtly turns to them. He’s pretty sure he’s breaking some sort of taboo. Not that it bothers Michael all that much. 

“Yeah, of course I do. He’s pretty cool,” Travis responds, rolling a cherry tomato around with a fork and not looking him in the eye. 

“Why?” It feels like everyone in the cabin is staring at them now, but even then Michael can’t stop.

“‘Why?’” Travis repeats, twirling the fork. Michael can’t help but notice Connor gripping his fork tighter and he has a vivid image of the boy stabbing it into him. Connor seems like the type. “He’s my dad. I think I’m supposed to like him.”

“But he never talked with you though, right? He has never been there for you. How could you possibly like him?”

Travis shrugs. “He’s a god. He’s probably busy.”

Michael frowns. His mom is busy too. Granted, busy with normal things like a job but she still finds the time to tuck his siblings to bed. Still finds the time to cook breakfast and dinner for them. Still finds the time to make movie nights. Still tell them every day, without fail, that she loves them. Is still there for him and his siblings. 

“So it doesn’t bother you? The way your relationship is with him right now?” Michael pushes. 

Travis fidgets with his strawberries, muttering something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like French. 

“What was—” Michael starts to say, but Connor glares, hard. Michael thinks he can see the promise of pain and suffering Connor will inflict upon him. Guess he’d just written his name in Connor’s bad book in Sharpie. 

“Look, Michael, it’s the social norm around here to not talk about our godly parents. Especially in ways that demean them.”

Social norm? Like he cares about something as trivial as that. 

“I just want—”

“Drop it, Michael. Travis’s relationship with our dad is none of your business,” Connor snaps. 

Travis is quiet, a hand resting on a cheek as he stabs into a strawberry, red juices spattering over lettuce and grilled cheese. 

“I want his approval. He’s my dad. What kid doesn’t want their parent’s approval?” 

Lee pulls him aside as lunch wraps up, leading them a bit away from the others.

“Michael, can you chill with the public grilling for a bit?”

“I just don’t get the worship around here for them though,” he argues. 

Lee falters, thinking about his words. “Michael, for some of us, our godly parent is the only one that cares.”

“Wait, are you saying your dad talks to you here?” Michael says. He doesn’t really know what the whole deal is going on with Lee and his mom, but he knows enough to know that Ms. Fletcher deserves the worst mom of the century award. 

Lee frowns a bit and shakes his head. “We talked once when I was claimed but other than that, no. Not really. And none of my half-siblings said anything to me about him either. But he’s already doing so much more than the other gods.”

“Really? Like what?” 

And Lee answers without hesitating, “He claims us as his.”

Michael recalls the talk before breakfast and the questions. About claiming. About waiting. About giving up. The bitterness in their voices. The longing. The yearning. And a sinking feeling grows in the pit of his stomach. 

“How long did it take for you to be claimed?” he asks. 

“I was claimed the second I stepped onto Camp. Apollo tends to be rather fast when it comes to claiming his children. The longest he ever went without claiming is one week. Demeter claims fast during the fall and winter months when Persephone is away. Hephaestus takes on average a month or so to claim.”

“And the slowest god at claiming?” 

Lee’s eyes narrow in thought. “Let’s see… Ares, Athena, Aphrodite, and Hermes seem to be the slowest.”

“How slow?”

“Slow as in… months, years.”

“Why?”

Lee looks away in discomfort. “Who knows? We shouldn’t speculate though. That’s just asking for a curse.”

He catches up to his cabin gathering for the next event and when he asks around about the claiming rate, he gets a mixture of answers. 

“Because we’re not their favorites,” Miranda says cheerfully, while arm-wrestling (and clearly winning) with a flushed Sherman. 

“Because we have to prove ourselves first,” the kid with the glasses states, eyes fixed on his shoes.

“Because they forgot we existed,” others say. 

“Because they want something from us.”

“Because they don’t want the responsibilities of a parent.”

“Because they don’t care.”

“Because they don’t think we’re worth it.”

“It’s because they suck ass,” one of the older campers says with dead serious eyes as Travis chokes on his strawberry, tossing the rest of the fruits into the fire, plate and all. 

“Shh! Celise, you’re gonna get cursed! Everybody, no bad-mouthing the gods or you’ll be turned into a snail and as cute as snails are, I like you all as humans.” 

The camper shrugs and whispers, it’s true . 

Trust me, they whisper next as they’re pulled aside by Travis’s frantic tugging.

They don’t care.

All of this is truly making him appreciate the gods more. 

Connor whistles for everybody’s attention, standing on top of a rock with a piece of paper. 

“It’s free choice from now until 3:30. Each counselor is hosting a different event. Travis and I are doing canoeing. Silena will be hosting horseback — that needs to be changed to pegasi — riding. Malcolm, you will take over for Annabeth since she isn’t here yet for the intro to Origami. Katie will be watching over the wall climbing. Lee, intro to guitar and lyres. Beckendorf, intro to welding. Pollux will be taking over Clarisse’s place at the arena for additional sword and archery lessons. And Castor will be teaching DIY soda. Here’s a map for each of you where everything is. Any questions? Yes, you, in the back. Hao, right?”

Michael takes the map, finds Lee’s name, finds the corresponding location, and then crumples the flimsy paper in his hands. 

But before he can walk away, Miranda is there in front of him and tugging him by the arm with a beaming smile. 

“Follow me for a sec? I want to show you something. It will be quick, I promise.” 

 [1:30 PM, Free Choice]

“Everybody gets a celestial weapon,” Miranda explains as they walk to the armory, “It KOs the monster and turns them into gold dust if it nicks them in the flesh just enough.”

Gold dust… like the gold dust Lee comes back sometimes covered in? 

She leads him to an unassuming building beside one of the cabins, opening the door and revealing shelves stocked full of weapons. Miranda strides to the back without a double-take. Like it’s normal for a summer camp with children to have a stockpile meant for war. 

“Do you have a preference?”

“I… uh…”

“Want some help? Based on what I saw in training, I think you’re better suited with something long-range. You looked uncomfortable with a sword. Aha! What about this?“

Then Miranda pulls out a rifle from one of the boxes. 

Michael stares at it for a full second, wondering if he’s imagining it, wondering if Miranda is kidding, wondering if this whole day is just one big funny dream. But, no, Miranda remains standing there with a big ol’ grin and rifle in hand and waiting for them to say something.

“No.”

“What? Why not?”

“First of all, it’s a gun. Second of all, I share a room with two of my siblings who get into my shit all the time. Third, my mom would literally kill me if she sees me holding a rifle. And fourth, it’s a fucking gun .”

”It’s okay. This is a magic rifle. If you engage the safety and remove the magazine clip, it turns into a telescope.” Miranda demonstrates it for him and would you look at that. It actually became a telescope. “See? No problem. Mom won’t find out and plus! It actually works as a telescope! You can go stargazing with this thing and also kick any monster-butt.”

“What happens if it goes off and a bullet hits someone?”

“That’s okay too. The bullets are made of celestial metal. It can’t harm mortals.”

“But it’s a gun. And I don’t have a license.”

Miranda shrugs. “You can’t kill a mortal though. I don’t think you need a license if you seriously can’t hurt anyone. But if you don’t want a gun, then we can get you a bow. Apollo’s cabin is full of them. Come on.”

And as Michael follows Miranda out, he mutters under his breath, “Why are you all like this?”

Miranda laughs, spinning around her heels to face him. 

“And you’re like a completely normal kid. If you didn’t pass the barrier, I would have thought Lee brought someone fully human.” 

[2:20 PM, Free Choice]

“What is that?”

Lee does only a cursory glance at where Michael is pointing before going back to tuning his guitar engraved with his name and last initial on the Big House’s porch. “It’s Thalia’s Pine. Someone poisoned it unfortunately. A couple years ago a girl sacrificed herself to save her friends. Her father turned her dying body into a magic tree that protects all of camp. We’re trying to fix it, but it’s kinda slow-going right now.”

“That’s cool. That’s cool, but I’m talking about that .” 

And Lee really looks at where Michael is pointing at. A … well, he doesn’t want to say robotic because there’s no way a robot can move that fluidly, but fine. A metallic bull the size of an elephant is charging towards them, running full speed but going nowhere. It’s like an invisible wall is holding it back. Just a bit aways are five people in a line in full bronze armor and a variety of weapons with two more people running towards them. A girl with a gruff voice is ordering to get into position. 

“Is this some sort of play?” Michael asks, waiting for Lee’s answers but when there’s none, he turns to face him. “Lee?” 

Lee is pale. His guitar falls out of his hands as he stands. 

Michael tenses, alarmed. “Lee?” 

“Shit,” Lee curses for the first time ever. “Fuck.”

Now Michael is really worried. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?” 

Lee whirs to face him and Michael doesn’t like the fear, the panic he sees in Lee’s usually calm eyes. 

“Michael, Beckendorf is in the forge. Get him first. Tell him there is a Colchis Bull at Half Blood Hill. Then go get Travis and Connor next — Hey? Michael, are you there?”

A second bull crashes into the invisible wall and they break through. They’re breathing fire. People are being set on fire. People are having their armor melted off. People are being burned. People are being trampled on. People are— 

“Michael!” Lee shakes him hard by the shoulder. “Don’t look at it. Just go run and get Beckendorf.”

Then he’s forcibly turned around and pushed away to the sound of terrified screams and dying cries.  

[3:00 PM, Free Choice]

So that’s a monster. 

And he’s expected to fight one of them? 

The guy who took out the first bull —Percy he thinks is the name — Percy did it with a little help with a flame-resistant man and Percy is about the same age as him. And Clarisse took out the second bull all by herself. So it’s definitely possible. With training and maybe a bow instead of a sword, Michael can do it. 

He can do it. 

…

Just because it’s possible, doesn’t mean it’s right. Doesn‘t mean it’s normal and fuck. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

How can anyone not see how messed up this whole thing is? Monsters exist and they eat twerps like him? They’ll hunt him for as long as he lives? He’s always going to have to watch his back? He’s always going to have a weapon on him? This is what his day will be like every day? This is normal?  This is what being a demigod means? 

From the porch of the Big House, Michael watches Travis and Connor, amongst a few others with just as many beads on their necklaces, triaging the injured. Passing around nectar bottles and ambrosia brownies, helping them stand, checking their wounds all with an air of professionalism.

They were trained for this. They prepared for this. 

Michael doesn’t like that little fact. 

And speaking of little facts he doesn’t like, one just sits down next to him. When he’s not standing around like a dumbass, he goes to get more nectar bottles from the infirmary where a team of two people is running around tending to the patients. One is Lee. The other, and the clear leader, is the boy in blue scrubs and yellow flip flops. The kid barked orders left and right, telling people where to go, where to place the patients, how to treat the minor wounds until he can get there, basically keeping everything orderly and efficient, all with this air of confidence and calmness. It would have been very reassuring if the kid himself wasn’t this little, baby-faced 11-year-old.

And said 11-year-old is now sitting down beside him, downing a bottle of water then downing half a bottle of red Gatorade. 

Michael is starting to see why Lee doesn’t want his mom to know where Camp Half Blood is. If she ever visited and saw how the camp is being run primarily by pre-teens and teens… well… she’ll probably lose it. 

“Hey,” the kid says.

“Hey,” Michael replies, cautiously. 

Then, silence.

The most awkward silence he has ever experienced as they just sit side by side. 

The kid takes another sip from the Gatorade. 

“You’re Michael, right? You’re Lee’s upstairs friend?”

Michael bristles at the words. “How did you—“

“When the cabins burned down, we stayed at Lee’s apartment for a couple days,” the kid explains, staring at Travis and Connor milling about the battlegrounds. He fidgets with a bandaid on the back of his hand. “This is going to sound really weird, but I thought I heard his voice and your last names match so it might not be my imagination. But do you have a younger brother named Raphael?”

“Yeah, I do. How do you know that?” Michael says, trying and failing to tone back the defensiveness in his voice. God please don’t let Raphie be a demigod like him. 

The kid breaks into a big smile and it really makes him look like the child he is. “We used to be in a class together with Mrs. Rem. How is he by the way? Is he still watching Ninja Turtles? What did he think of the newest episode?”

Distantly, from a dinner chat a long time ago, Raphael mentioned a ‘Will’ who left class because of a stomach ache and was never seen again. He remembered Raphael being really worried. He remembered Raphael even saying that ‘Will doesn’t ever get sick’ and he remembered dismissively saying, “Don’t worry. The kid’s probably fine.” 

There’s no way the kid next to him is that Will. It has to be a coincidence. It got to be. Forget how this kid knows Raphael is a fan of Ninja Turtles. It’s a popular show right now. Somewhere, in this 6.6 billion populated planet, there’s got to be a Will and a Raphael who both go to the same school with a 5th-grade teacher named Mrs. Rem and both watch Ninja Turtles and both love Raphael the sai-welding turtle.

“You went to Hodgkins Elementary School?”

“Yeah.” 

There’s still a chance this is all a coincidence. 

“Your favorite turtle is Raph?”

“Well, it’s Leo now but I used to like Raph.”

Still a coincidence.

“And your name’s Will?”

“It is.”

Just one big coincidence. 

“And you left the classroom—” Michael wracks his brain — when, when did Raphael talked about the kid? — “Because of a stomach ache back in October?” 

For a minute, Will is silent. A minute filled with nothing but the whistle of the wind and commanding yells of campers. Will chuckles, low, as the plastic bottle crinkles in his hands. But when Will speaks, his voice is carefully blank, devoid of emotion. “Not exactly, no. I saw something strange at school that nobody could see and I called my mom, er, my aunt. But she raised me so I considered her my mom. She said to get out, even if I have to lie. So I did. A stomach ache was the easiest to fake. She picked me up from school. I think she was going to take me to camp. But on the drive here… a cyclops showed up and totaled the car. We ran. She told me to go ahead and get help. And I did. Without looking back. I found Lee and he took care of the cyclops but mom… ” 

The kid’s voice is still blank. Emotionless. 

“She died because of me.”

A bitter smile. 

“Because I was too weak. Because I was too scared.”

The bottle bursts in his hand, the red dripping off his hand and staining his scrubs. 

“No one is ever going to die because of me. Not again. Not ever.”

The kid leaves, running back inside when someone screams bloody murder and another voice yells, “Solace!” 

(“Will’s last name was on our vocab lists,” Raphael had said a long time ago. “Solace. It means comfort. That’s so cool. No way can I forget that.”)

Michael continues to sit there, watching the battlefield empty out one camper at a time until everyone injured has been attended to. 

(“She died. Because of me. Weak. Scared.”)

Weak. He understands. Too scared. He understands that too. He experienced all that today with the bulls. 

If it had been at home with his family, at school with his classmates, even at the park with random strangers, what would have happened? He would have fought, right? Adrenaline would have kicked in and he would do something. Or would he have frozen? Just like he did today? Just stood there, watching his family be stomped and kicked and lit on fire until someone kicked him into gear? (“Run, Michael. Don’t look back.”)

No. 

No. Fuck no. Three months. He has three months of this summer camp / orphanage / ‘let’s-all-become-child-soldiers-together!’ hellhole.  He has three months to kick this stupid deer in the headlights reaction. 

(“She died because of me.”)

He’s not going to let anyone die.

[5:00 PM, Free Time]

He finds them in the cabin, one slumped on the bed with an arm over his eyes and the other sitting at the foot with a sketch of the cabin in one hand and a pencil in the other. 

They’re talking about something secret because as soon as Michael slams the cabin door open, their conversation stops. He catches the last sentence though. Are the nightmares getting worse? And god, if these two are okay with everything that just happened today, just handled it all with a face that says this is nothing, then Michael doesn’t want to know what kind of nightmares are troubling them. 

“What’s up?” Connor or Travis, the one on his back, asks, trying and failing to get upright. The arm moves and tired eyes peek at him from underneath. 

“Is it Lee? Does he need us again?” the other asks, tossing the drawing under the bed. 

“You said, whatever problems we have, we can come to you two,” Michael starts. 

They nod together in sync. 

“Then I want you guys to train me until I drop dead. Now until the end of summer.”

[6:00 PM, Dinner]

He barely has his food on the plate when a bright light shines over his head. Flashy. Illuminating. Almost eye-blinding. Michael looks up, squints, and sees the sun with 21 arrows surrounding it, representing the sun’s rays. 

Distantly, he’s aware of a bored voice proclaiming him as a child of Apollo. But all he’s really focused on is his cabin’s, ex-cabin now he guesses, reactions. He can see all their faces down the line. Most are happy. They smile and cheer for him, patting on him on the back and congratulating him. But he can see it, beneath their grins, beneath the genuine elation, is frustration, jealousy, longing. 

(“It's been years.”)

Travis, with his pile of strawberries, bumps him in the shoulder with his own. “Hey, congratulations. Apollo cabin is a lot roomier than ours so you get to actually sleep on a bed.”

Connor nods, tossing an M&M bag into the flames. “Too bad you’re gonna miss the experience of being crammed like sardines on the floor. It’s actually pretty cozy.”

Michael frowns as he conjures up a PB and J sandwich exactly how Mom would make it, cuts it into halves, and toss it in . “Are you guys still going—”

“We’ll still help you,” Travis interrupts, but his smile is impish, borderline devilish.  “But—”

“It comes with a price now.” Connor follows with a just as sordid grin. “Two conditions. One, you have to help us with archery. We’re not bad but we’re not good either and could use a bit more work. Annabeth and I have this sparring contest every week to see who is more proficient in what weapon. She beats me every single time when it comes to archery, but that’s ending this year. And two, you have to be our inside man.”

“Inside man?” Michael asks, already kind of knowing what that means.

“Let us into your cabin. Help us set up pranks in your cabin. Tell us everything we want to know about your cabin. You know. That sort of thing,” Travis says flippantly. 

And before Michael can reject, accept, do literally anything, Travis turns around and walks to the table with this unbearably cheerful hum. “Will is going to regret ever messing with my diet.”

Connor falls in step with a fond smile. “But seriously, Will has a point. You need to balance your meals a bit more.”

For such nice people , Michael thinks as he’s corralled towards the Apollo table by an ecstatic Lee , they can be such dicks. 

[7:00 PM, Volleyball]

“Hey, Lee, when did the monsters start coming for me?” Michael asks as he twirls the volleyball in his hands once, twice and tosses it to Lee. In the background, Michael can hear the yells and cheers of the far more serious, far more competitive match going on. Apparently, there’s a tournament between the cabins and the winner gets bragging rights and no cabin inspection next month. 

Lee isn’t participating. “Our cabin is always clean and orderly,” he had said with pride, though that didn’t stop his half-siblings ( my half-siblings) from making a team and participating. 

“Eh? The monsters? Uh, l-last year,” Lee says, fumbling the ball just like he’s fumbling the lie. 

So it’s been more than a year. 

Michael bites his cheeks as he bends his knees and extends his arms to bounce the ball back.

“And you’ve been taking care of them all this time?” 

“Well, not all of them,” Lee admits, catching the ball with both hands. “A lot of them went away on their own.”

Liar , sings his guts. He’s lying . 

Because Lee is way too nice. Way too selfless. Way too noble to tell the truth that would most definitely hurt. 

“Why? Why didn’t you take me to camp earlier? When the monster started coming? Why now?” he bites out, just barely holding back the snarl. You could have saved yourself years of pain, years of trouble. 

“Because…” Lee looks over to the courts, to where Travis and Connor are arguing with Annabeth (the moaning myrtle girl, Michael realizes). Something about which team Percy should be on. 

(“Your dad is the god of Athletes. Your cabin already have an advantage.”)

(“Okay, but consider this, only Travis and I are claimed. Everyone else on the team could be anyone’s child. And your team is completely made up of god-tier and gifted strategists.”)

(“Your #4 is literally speaking ten languages. He’s got to be a son of Hermes.”)

(“That is a stereotype. Abraham could just be remarkably smart.”)

Lee’s eyes go back to him. “Because I wanted you to have a normal life, to know that there’s more to life than just this. Besides, I’ve been watching you for years. You learn how to do something like it’s nothing after a few minutes. It’s kind of ridiculous and I am lowkey jealous. But if you feel like you’re not ready, I can always—”

“Shut up, idiot. You’re not dropping out of school for me,” Michael grumbles, Lee’s stupid chuckle not at all comforting. 

“I heard you guys are in a war,” Michael says, “Are you fighting in it?”

Lee serves the ball over, high and easy to hit. “Yeah. It feels wrong not to.”

And Michael spikes it back as hard as he can. “But you’re going to college in a few months.”

Lee shrugs, easily leaning forward and kicking it back high into the air for another easy hit. “Julliard is close enough to camp.” 

Michael catches it, tucking it under an arm. “That’s not what I meant. What’s the point of going to college if you might lose an arm or leg fighting in this stupid war? You should just focus on school.”

Lee laughs of all things. “That’s nothing. Will fixed worse.”

Michael bristles at Lee's casualness. “Well, if you’re gonna fight, then I am going too.”

Lee laughs again, tenser this time. “You think your mom is gonna let you?”

“She lets you!”

“Because she doesn’t know what I’m doing. And I’m not the one living with her. Besides, do you even know what we are fighting for?”

“Of course, I do! The enemy is K—” Crap. He never got the full name or title of the bad guy. And somehow he feels like saying Cabin 11’s made up name isn’t going to make Lee take him any more seriously. “I’ll learn more about it. Besides, you’re a great guy. I’m sure you’re fighting for the good guys.”

“Michael, your faith in me is nice but getting involved without knowing the full story is dumb. You’re not fighting.”

“Yes, I am.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I —”

Lee’s face hardened the way it does when he’s mad or worried or dead serious. Like that one time Leo microwaved a spoon. Like when Raphael tried to jump down a flight of stairs for a dare. Like when Carly and Sam ran onto the streets without looking. And crap. Michael is 14, practically an adult. He shouldn’t be cowing under Lee’s hard stare anymore. But he is and he’s (slightly, only just slightly) scared. 

“No, you’re not,” Lee says, “Because I don’t want you to fight when you have so little experience. Because your mom will literally kill me if something, anything happens to you. Because something bad will happen to you if you do join this fight. So no. You’re not going to fight. You’re not going to participate. You’re only here to train and enjoy camp life.”

“Fine. Fine. I won’t,” Michael grumbles, ducking his head. “Sheesh, you make it sound like if I join, the camp is done for.”

The hard stare melts back into that familiar, soft, (almost) carefree aura with a shrug and small smile. “I just have a feeling. It’s good to trust your instincts.”

And my instincts are telling me right now that you need to quit. But Michael is pretty sure Lee won’t appreciate it and moves the conversation to the climbing wall and why it’s on fire. 

[9:00 PM, Campfire Song]

“Mom,” Michael says, the phone pressed against his ears. He looks out the window, watching the vibrant flame of the bonfire climb high into the starry skies and the circles of cheerful campers surrounding it. 

“Michael, I was wondering when you would call. How’s camp? Do you like it?” 

“Camp is…Camp is great. Lots of activity. Really unique. I—” I like it dies on his tongue. He doesn’t like it. He might have if there was a bit less training. Luckily his mother didn’t catch that pause.  

“That’s great! Made any new — Carly Yew, are those markers I see in your hands? You better not draw on the walls. Get some paper, baby, okay? Made any new friends?”

“A few.”

“You should invite them over! We can have a nice little movie night together.” 

Michael frowns as he recalls someone, somewhere, saying not to gather in more than threes outside the barrier. It attracts the monsters apparently and Michael isn’t about to test that. “They can't. They’re busy. They’re like—um—they’re head counselors, you see, and have a lot of duties.” Like practically running the camp but he doesn’t think Mom would appreciate knowing that. 

“Well, it’s nice to see you make friends even if they’re a bit older.”

Are Travis and Connor older than him? Possibly. They exude confidence that no normal teen has. Or maybe they have just been here for a long time. And that is all kinds of sad. 

His mom asks him about his day, what he did, if he has something he really likes, and for the next hour, Michael goes into a heavily censored, G-rated, parent-safe tale of his first day at Camp Half Blood. It could have been worse. On his way to the Big House to use the phone, he overheard an older boy telling a couple newbies how a kid fought a Minotaur on his first day here and a girl having to sacrifice herself for her friends. 

Wow, it would suck to be them. 

[11:00 PM]

He meets dad in his dreams. 

Michael doesn’t know why, but he thought Apollo to be a refined god. A serious god. A graceful god. 

Instead he sees a teenager sporting pilot shades and leaning on a flaming red sports car in the dingy parking lot of Camp Half Blood with the early morning sun just breaking the horizon. 

“Dad?” Michael says, (who else could it be?) but still not really sure. “Uh, Apollo?”

And the teen waves, flashing a smile that nearly blinds him. “Michael! It’s so good to finally meet you.”

Before Michael could react, the teen — Apollo — dad — pulls him into a crushing hug that knocks all the air out of his lungs.

Apollo is strangely… warm. But not overbearingly warm. Warm like first snuggling into bed under the covers. Plus he smells like laurel leaves, sweet and bright. And Michael has a vivid flashback of his mom — younger, much much younger —  in the hospital bed smiling at a man in his mid-twenties with a bundle of sheets in his arm.

Michael blinks as Apollo pulls away, holding him at arm's length and looking him up and down with a musing stare. 

“You resemble your mom more than me,” Apollo says with a nod, “Most of my children tend to take after my looks, but you’re different, Mike. I have to say, I like it! I can’t stay long. Godly matters I have to attend to, you know? Here, I got you a gift for making it so far in life. Tell Audrey I miss her and think sweetly about the time we spent together.” 

Apollo is pressing a guitar into his hands with his name engraved in the body and stepping back to get into his car. It’s exactly the same as the guitar Lee has except for the engraving. So not unique by any means. But it is a gift. And mom would kill him for rejecting a gift. It’s rude she says, but Michael doesn’t care about Apollo enough yet to give a fuck. Besides if Lee’s experience is anything to go by, this is probably the last time he’ll ever talk to his dad. He needs to make this moment count for something. 

“Wait.”

Apollo pauses just as the engine roars to life, purring sweetly and the window rolled down. 

“I want to ask for something else.”

Apollo blinks and Michael can see the inkling of annoyance in the young face, but Apollo nods and says without a lick of irritation in his voice, “Sure, shoot.” 

“I want you to spend more time with Lee.” Then Michael has a realization. “You know who Lee is, right? The oldest one in the cabin? About to go to Julliard? Want to become a teacher?”

Now Apollo is definitely irked, a telltale wrinkle in his brow. Michael can now add ‘gods’ to the list of people he can make pissed off. “Of course I know Lee, my little music enthusiast child. How could I not? But I’m a God, Michael. There’s only so much free time I have.”

“Then just a few minutes a week, or even a month. So he knows you care.”

Again a slight scowl, but it lingers for a few seconds more. 

“I do care but okay. Okay, I will.” Apollo shifts the car into drive still a little annoyed. Michael thought that was it. Any minute now he’s going to wake up and start the day, but Apollo sighs, leans back in the leather seat, and hangs an elbow out the window. “Michael, you’re so much like your mother. Caring. Gutsy. Compassionate. It’s crazy how much you resemble her. You’re going to do great things. You’re—” The annoyance drops and for a brief second, Apollo looks grief-stricken. And once again, Michael dreams of falling, of a bridge, of a boat wafting through a chasm of fire. But Apollo smiles that blinding smile, fond, and shakes his head. 

“Don’t worry so much about your family. They’re going to be fine. You’re going to be fine.”

Michael wakes up just as the car drives off, his gut itching. 

Apollo is lying to you.

[carewyncromwell]

M E T and K for the OC ask >.>

Oooh, that’s a lot! x.x Okay! For M, I’m going to cheat a bit and use a surname, since a lot of the “M” first name characters I added onto in LOLS are expansions of canon characters (i.e. Millicent Bulstrode) -- the others I’ll use first names! :)

Full Name: Lydia Julien Montmercy

Nicknames, If Any: Caeneus Jove (pen-name)

Hogwarts House: Slytherin

Gender: Transgender Male

Sexuality: Gay

A Song I Associate With Them: Ascendance by Lindsey Stirling

3 Important Relationships

Eddie Carmichael ~ One of Julien’s best friends. They first met at school, and even though they were in different houses (Ravenclaw and Slytherin, respectively), Eddie and Julien bonded over their shared aspiration to join the Auror Department. Once they were both accepted into the ranks of that Department, they grew even closer, to the point that when Eddie was looking for people to help him with circulating a rebel newspaper during the Second Wizarding War, he knew he could depend on Julien, even if Julien’s father was one of the most high-ranking Death Eaters at the Ministry.

Antoinette Montmercy ~ Antoinette raised her child Julien almost entirely on her own, and so the two are incredibly close. There is nothing Antoinette wouldn’t do if it meant protecting her child -- even obeying the will of her cold-hearted Death Eater husband.

Etienne Montmercy ~ Julien’s father was in Azkaban most of Julien’s life for being a Voldemort supporter, and when he was released, it signaled a hellish new chapter in Julien’s life. Not only would Etienne never accept Julien’s gender identity, which forced Julien to stay in the closet longer than he’d intended for his own self-preservation, but Julien did not share Etienne’s blood purist beliefs in the slightest. To top it all off, Etienne forced Julien into an arranged marriage with the blood purist tabloid writer Uric Cuffe without even consulting Julien or caring if he objected. Etienne and Julien may look very alike, but they couldn’t be more diametrically opposed as people.

2 Fears

Losing his free will

His friends dying

1 Element of their backstory

Julien’s dead name is “Lydia,” which was a name Etienne had picked. “Julien” is derived from a line in an old poem that Antoinette used to read for her son about July gillyflowers.

Full Name: Erik Landon Apollo

Nicknames, If Any: Rick (by Eos Amari), Jarvey (by Orion), Apollo (by most of his students), Sour Patch (by Wendy Copper @drinkyoursoupbitch)

Hogwarts House: Slytherin

Gender: Cisgender Male

Sexuality: Bisexual

A Song I Associate With Them: “Remember the Name,” by Fort Minor

3 Important Relationships

Carewyn Cromwell ~ Erik’s legal guardian, after he lost his parents and was hauled before the Muggle-Born Registration Commission during the Second Wizarding War. Although Erik never calls Carewyn his mother due to the trauma of losing his actual mother Sadie, Erik admires and cherishes Carewyn like nobody else in the world. Although Erik by and large isn’t the sort to lose his temper, he’s never been able to let any insult toward Carewyn slide.

Roxanni “Roxi” Kim @mira-shard ~ Erik’s one true love and (in his mind) better half. Erik was immediately impressed by Roxi’s kindness, humor, and honesty, but was soon enough enthralled by her astounding emotional intelligence, to the extent that she could read people like a book and perfectly pinpoint the best way to help them solve their problems. Given that Erik himself has never been as attuned to his emotions and thinks with his head so much more than his heart, Roxi’s deep understanding of both herself and others is a marvel to Erik. And if you’ve so thoroughly awed Erik Apollo, especially while being drop-dead gorgeous like Roxi is, you’ve got yourself a rather awkward turtle for a suitor. :3

Alistair Schaefer @cursebreakerfarrier ~ Erik’s superior in name only and the mediating Obi-Wan to Erik’s reckless Anakin. Even if Erik is technically Alistair’s assistant, the two rarely see each other as anything other than equals, not just because of their equal levels of talent in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Wizard Dueling, but because of their immense respect for each other. Erik might swear and play favorites with their students way too much for Alistair’s liking, but their friendship is still resilient enough that it wouldn’t be unlikely that Erik could end up asking for Alistair’s help with an Auror assignment in the future, after leaving Hogwarts.

2 Fears

Dementors

Being helpless

1 Element of their backstory

Erik’s love for Star Wars comes from his father Phillip -- it was one of the main things they shared together before Phillip’s abrupt death. Erik’s middle name “Landon” is even a reference to one of Phillip and Sadie Apollo’s favorite Star Wars characters, Lando Calrissian.

Full Name: Tokala Kyon Mulligan

Nicknames, If Any: N/A

Hogwarts House: N/A (American: homeschooled)

Gender: Cisgender Male

Sexuality: Pansexual

A Song I Associate With Them: Dance Magic Dance by David Bowie

3 Important Relationships

Travis Fitzgerald ~ The Vice President of the MACUSA saw a lot of potential in Tokala from the get-go. Despite Tokala only being in his late 20′s, Fitzgerald (the real power behind the rather superficial and pompous President Aaron Crowe) was able to pull enough strings to move Tokala all the way up the ranks to become the Head of Major Investigations. Like Fitzgerald, Tokala is incredibly ambitious and determined to protect his country and all of the people in it, magical or otherwise, and so it’s unsurprising that both men are very glad to have such an valuable ally in their fight against the blood purity movement taking root in America.

Cho Chang ~ When the Chang family emigrated to the U.S. to escape Voldemort during the Second Wizarding War, there’s no way Cho would’ve expected to get wrapped up in the MACUSA’s Major Investigations Department. But when Cho and some of her Muggle friends were targeted by some American blood purists walking in the footsteps of the Death Eaters in Britain, Cho collided with Tokala, and soon they became unlikely allies and, later on, partners in espionage.

Mia Romero ~ Like Cho, Mia is a MACUSA employee who was secretly recruited as an agent for the Major Investigations Department for her strong dueling skills and expertise in human psychology. Mia would go on to become President of the MACUSA in the late 2010s, with her old cohort Tokala remaining as Head of Major Investigations -- it’s likely only thanks to friends like Tokala that Mia is able to deal with the chaotic whims of her Muggle counterpart, the so-called “Other President,” without going insane.

2 Fears

Losing his Metamorphagus abilities

A fascist government

1 Element of their backstory

Tokala, being half-Cherokee, was taught at home by the magical members of his family, rather than attending an American magic school like Ilvermorny. (Because seriously, there is no way in HELL either Tokala’s family or I as his writer would send him away to a British-style American boarding school. *glares at JK*)

Full Name: Kevin Elijah Whitby

Nicknames, If Any: N/A

Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff

Gender: Cisgender Male

Sexuality: Gay

A Song I Associate With Them: Merry-Go-Round of Life from Howl’s Moving Castle

3 Important Relationships

Astoria Greengrass ~ Despite being in the same year, Astoria and Kevin didn’t really spend much time together until they both ended up as contestants in Potions Professor Gordon Ramsay’s MagicChef contest (yes, really, that’s a thing, in Kevin’s fic). During the contest, the two really connected thanks to their similar personalities and shared interest in cooking, and they became even closer friends through the Cooking Club Kevin helped found. By the time they’re adults, they would both consider each other their best friend.

Colin Creevey ~ Like with Astoria, Kevin hadn’t interacted at all with Colin until the MagicChef contest and the founding of a Hogwarts Cooking Club right afterwards. After a traumatizing escape from an extremist group during the Second Wizarding War, Kevin ended up in a playground close to where the Creevey family was in hiding, and Colin and his brother Dennis brought Kevin home with them. It was thanks to the Creeveys that Kevin was able to heal both his physical and emotional wounds from that particular trauma. While living with the Creeveys, Kevin came to see Colin like the older brother he’d never had.

Dennis Creevey ~ Kevin bonded with Dennis while living with the Creevey family and came to see him like the younger brother he’d never had. After the end of the Second Wizarding War, Kevin and Dennis became even closer, with Kevin supporting Dennis not unlike how Colin had supported him.

2 Fears

Losing his family and friends

Being alone and unloved

1 Element of their backstory

Kevin is the son of an female Auror named Hattie Ollerton, who fell in love with a Muggle bobby, Elijah Whitby, during the First Wizarding War. It’s because of his parents that Kevin pursues becoming an Auror as an adult.

OC Asks! or Meet Julien, Tokala, and Kevin in Harry Potter and the Lack of Lamb Sauce!