the confetti for a not guilty verdict is actually the funniest fucking thing about ace attorney

it’s like they inherently know their system is fucked to the to the extent that they’ve got the celebration confetti at the ready when they don’t wrongfully incarcerate someone

edgeworth never lost a trial until he faced phoenix wright so the confetti goes off and he’s probably like what the fuck ppfthh pffth phhh that last bit is him spitting the confetti out of his mouth

Plato-nic Love (Part I)

I sadly didn’t finish the whole story in time but this is part one of Seren and Plato’s epic love story for the ages XD

Illustrations were done by the wonderful @sigeel​ 😍😍😍

So this submission is by the two of us!

Plato-nic Love

Seren poured a libation of wine and started working on the grapevine that had been growing in the family garden for a while. At first, her mother had tried to get rid of it but it had proven the essence of indestructable life and so they had accepted its presence much like Seren had come to accept the presence of its patron god. She was about to cut off a branch to use for making a crown later on when she heard a familiar voice. "How is my favourite bacchae?" She sighed. It had been about a year since she had agreed to become his faithful follower and needless to say she was still the only one. "Do you know what day it is?" Seren started frantically going through all the calendars she had studied, from the reconstructed Attic calendar to the Roman calendar before and after the Julian reform -what moon phase were they in again? "You always think we don't care about these things but I have a sursprise for you." Dionysos flashed her a bright smile. "What?" she said flatly. A surprise from a god couldn't possibly mean anything good.

"I SAID: I have a SURPRISE for you!" Confetti and flower petals started raining down on them and from above sounded a rustic melody played on pan pipes. Seren looked up to see Hermes sitting on a treebranch, grinning as he played the instrument his son invented. "Ha ha, very funny, Hermes." Dionysos took Seren by the shoulders. "He was supposed to play the Time Warp. Because it's exactly ONE YEAR TODAY that you became my bacchae and do I have a surprise for you!" "Yeah, you said so. But maybe it would be better if-" "Nonsense! As your patron god I am exceedingly generous. You see, I have noticed your infatuation with Plato." "You don't say." "Yes. Anyway, Hermes was so nice to pay grandfather Kronos a visit and relieve him of a little artef- well, details, it doesn't matter! What is important is that you will get to meet Plato!" "Really?!" There was a nagging voice in Seren's head that told her to be careful but Dionysos had just told her she'd get to meet Plato! "Really. All you have to do is take my hand. But I have another gift for you. Hermes, come down here!" The messenger god swung himself lazily from the tree and floated down until his winged sandals touched the ground. "My brother pointed out that you might have difficulties speaking ancient Greek fluently so he will grant you the ability to speak it like a native for as long as you give up your native English." Seren gaped. "That... is surprisingly thoughtful of you." "Hermes, do it! And no nonsense like giving her a lisp or a foreign accent!" "Of course not. Why would I do that?" Hermes grinned at Seren. "I'd not even be there to see it." "What? Now? Wait!" Seren cried out as divine magic rearranged the synapses in her speech centre. "I did not agree-" "She'll speak fluently once you arrive in Greece," Hermes said, "Once you return, the magic wears off." Dionysos gave his brother a suspicious look. Then he beamed. "Perfect!" Dionysos clapped enthusiastically. "Hold on tight!" He pulled her into his embrace and Seren instinctively hugged him. The world around them began to blur and the heavens seemed to turn back as they sped through time and space. There was a sudden jolt and the world was clear once again. Only, it looked strange. But not strange enough for Seren not to recognise her patron god had spoken the truth. This was ancient Athens! She felt a nasty queasiness but she was much too excited to care about that just now. She had known about polychromy but the sheer explosion of colours in the city made her heart sing. The reconstructions were mere shadows of the vibrant paint on the statues, buildings, and clothes. And the Akropolis! It looked majestic even now but the ruins were nothing compared to the magnificence of colour and architecture. Seren stood in awe, even though they were miles away down in a sidestreet. Potters had laid out their painted vases and other works as they created new ones. Seren couldn't decide what to see first, jumping this way and that until the unsavoury sound of regurgitation briefly diverted her attention. Dionysos leaned against the mudbrick wall of a house and puked his guts out. "How can you be so chipper?" Dionysos groaned, wiping his mouth. "You're mortal!" We travelled both time AND space. You should be barfing like a youth at his first symposion." But Seren just ignored him in her euphoria. "It's Athens!" she cried. "ANCIENT Athens!" "That fleet-foorted son of a-" "What? What is it?!" "Nothing, nothing. Everything is fine. I just..." Dionysos leaned against the mudbrick house. "Hermes could have said something about the inconvenience of travelling." Seren shrugged. Who cared, they were already there. "I want to see EVERYTHING!!! The sculptures! The pottery! The architecture! The clothes..." "Speaking of which..." Dionysos grinned. "We should get you something less 2020. If you want to meet Plato, we need a certain disguise. And you want to look your best for him, right?" Seren screwed up her face. "Plato isn't about looks. He's about the beauty of the soul." "Well, if you want to go dressed in that tasteless pink sweater and leggings combination. But let me tell you, nothing looks better on a woman than a finely woven chiton." "Yeah, you're not at all biased." "It's one of the few things even Apollo and I agree on, so it must be true." Seren would have been happy just roaming the streets of ancient Athens for a couple of days. Or for however long this time thingy would allow. The prospect of meeting Plato both exhilarated and terrified her.

Dionysos bought her an elegant chiton in the extremely crowded agora. Seren hardly suppressed a squeal when he paid with real ancient drachmae. Only they didn't look ancient at all. "Why is nobody staring?" she asked, as another group of people walked past them without paying them any mind. "Did you put glamour over my modern clothes?" Dionysos laughed. "No need, honeybee. This is Athens. At a time like this they get tourists from all over the world. One strange, foreign costume is not going to turn any heads." He pulled her away from the merchants and splendour of the agora into the entrance of a seemingly abandoned house. "Put it on," he said, handing her the chiton. "Don't peek!" she reminded him before she changed into her new garment. It felt cool and pleasant on her skin and the quality of the linen was indeed fantastic. Despite the loose fit the fabric was so delicate it hugged her figure in an almost revealing way, making her feel exposed. "Is this really acceptable dress?" she asked. "Only with this worn over it." Dionysos came up behind her, closing another layer of cloth over her shoulders with simple dress pins. "You look great, honeybee," he said sincerely. "Plato can consider himself lucky. You got the brains, you got the looks, and even that austere, joyless personality to match." "I get the impression you don't like Plato much." Dionysos slung the belt around her waist and fastened it. "What gave it away? My graffiti, my groaning everytime you bring him up, or the charming way I speak about him?" "The graffiti was a pretty obvious hint." "I hope you appreciate my gift all the more, honeybee." "I do." She smiled. "But I don't think I could appreciate it any more than I already do. This is a dream come true. The most exciting day of my life. More exciting even than Delphi." "Be careful not to tell Apollo," Dionysos warned but he looked pleased. "Sure. If I ever run into him I'll remember it." As they stepped outside, the streets were empty. "Where is everybody?" "Oh, it must be time to crown the victors." "Victors? Of what? It's too cold to be July, isn't it?" "Not the Panathenaic Games." Dionysos smiled broadly. "It's not an athletic contest. Today..." He made a dramatic pause. "Is the last day of the Great Dionysia!" "Oh." Seren was disappointed. "So we can't go and watch any of the plays?" "I'm afraid it is too late for that. But I can show you my theatre and the temple with my cult image if you want."

Seren politely admired the simple wooden log that was supposed to be a representation of Dionysos and genuinely marvelled at the masks that had been dedicated below it. She patiently listened to Dionysos as he recounted the story of the very first Dionysia in Athens and how he used to mingle among the crowd every year to watch what the people of Athens had put on the stage in his honour. Once they arrived at the theatre it was already empty but it was a stunning sight all the same. Seeing everything intact and in its full glory filled Seren with unknown joy. The decorations, both permanent and temporary, were as colourful and flamboyant as the god they honoured. When they made it back to the streets of Athens, there were already groups of shouty drunk people roaming about. "Victory parties," Dionysos explained when he saw Seren's face. "In fact, we are about to attend one too. But first..." A purple mist shrouded the god's body and when it dispelled, his simple chiton had given way to a slutty ankle-length skirt that hung low enough to expose part of his bum cheeks, his arms, wrists, and ankles adorned with golden jewellery. "I know you practiced with the aulos. You're gonna be a flute girl." Seren startled. "What? No! I'm not nearly good enough!" Dionysos shrugged, making his golden bracelets clink. "I don't think I need to tell you that other kinds of women are not allowed at symposia. Unless you want to play the role of a hetaira..." "F-Flute girl is fine."

They arrived at a house that obviously belonged to someone well-to-do. "A group of revellers is about to show up here any minute. We'll join them to enter the symposion. Trust me, they're too drunk to realise we don't belong." Seren nodded nervously. "Now would be the time to ditch that respectable dress." Reluctantly, Seren freed herself of the protective extra layer of clothing and received the aulos flutes Dionysos handed her. The revellers did indeed show up. Loud and obnoxious, it was impossible not to notice them. A man in his late 20s or early 30s led the group. Half-naked and well into his cups, crowned with a wreath of ivy and violets, he was all but carried by two sturdy lads who looked like they were half-naked professionally. "Come!" Dionysos tugged on her arm and they danced along, she awkwardly, he with a grace and confidence she envied. The leader of the group pounded against the door and yelled for "Agathon". Seren's heart skipped a beat. "Is that... Alkibiades?!" she whispered to Dionysos. "The very same." "We are at THAT Symposium?!!" "We most certainly are." Seren gaped at the man who would eventually be the ruin of Athens by defecting to Sparta and then to Persia. He rattled the door, shouting "Agathon!" and dropped his single piece of clothing in the process, quickly picked up by his lads. Seren shrieked when the man suddenly leaned heavily on her, his arms reeling for support. Dionysos was quick to jump to his other side, taking most of the load off his bacchae. "AGATHON!" Alkibiades yelled once more, in the manner drunks yelled on their way home from the pub after closing hours. He kept demanding to see Agathon with a heavy tongue until a servant boy finally opened up and led them to the andron. Alkibiades managed to stand on his own, stumbling towards the host of the party while announcing how completely and utterly wasted he was. "Let's bring the bacchic spirit to this lame party!" Dionysos cheered. Seren gazed around with stars in her eyes. The room was bright with torches and the klinai were populated by men both young and old but all shirtless and all with crowns of ivy on their heads. She looked more closely at the guests while Alkibiades spoke to Agathon, probably congratulating him for his victory. But none of the symposiasts looked like any of the artworks she had seen of Plato. They were most likely created after his death anyway. "Soooo..." She leaned on Dionysos' shoulder. "Where is Plato?" Dionysos gestured at the kline at the very end of the room, occupied by two young men. "The dark-haired one."

"THAT is Plato?! I thought he'd be at least in his 30s!" Dionysos grinned a smug grin. "He wrote the Symposion in his late 30s. But this, honeybee, is the year the titular symposion actually took place. The first year of the 91st Olympiad. Or, as you would say, 416 BCE." Seren gaped at the young man seated on a couch with a blond youth. He had long, curly hair crowned with a wreath of ivy like all the symposiasts, young and old. A strong, Greek nose gave his face a distinct personality. Who would have thought the man Seren knew only from his words and artwork showing him as an old man could be so... hot. The blonde guy leaned over, whispering something to him. Maybe they were flirting. It wasn't anything unusual back in the day, Seren knew that. But they seemed to be about the same age. Shouldn't- "Play, flute girl," Dionysos nudged her with his elbow, "I'll clear the kline for you."

Seren watched him shimmy over to the pair and tried to remember how to play the aulos. She had practiced so much but right now it felt as if she knew nothing at all. Her idol, Plato, might be listening! Her cheeks burned as she blew into the wooden instrument, the tune an embarrassing version of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star". Despite playing the role of a dancer, Dionysos sat down with the two no doubt aristocratic young men in his usual impudent manner. The blond youth's face turned sour. "What is the meaning of this?" "I came for the entertainment." "We are very well entertained by each other's company, thank you." Dionysos gave the blonde guy a cheeky grin. "Does your company agree?" He crawled on the kline until he basically sat on Plato's lap, prompting the young philosopher to blush. How cute! "Some people can be such a dull affair, talking about nothing but themselves all the time." The angry blond yanked Dionysos off Plato. "This was a philosophical symposion before you arrived!" "Yes. And to shame! You are celebrating a victory at the Dionysia. Where is the revelry?" "There are countless symposia all over Athens. Why did you have to come and ruin this one?" "You know exactly that I didn't ruin anything. But please, if you have any grievances take it up with my master. Alkibiades." "You know what? I will!" The blond aristocrat got up from the kline and grabbed Dionysos by the wrist, effectively pulling him off the kline. He dragged the god behind him as he made for the door, leaving Plato all alone on his bed of colourful cushions. Dionysos winked at her as they passed and it was at that moment that Seren noticed that his "friend" was the only one wearing laurel instead of ivy. Did they just... cock-block Apollon? But not all is lost, she reasoned, if Plato likes Apollon, he likes blondes, right? Right?

Shyly, Seren sat down next to the man whose teachings she still hadn't figured out. And maybe neither did he. He was so young and handsome. She was close enough to smell his heavy perfume and either oil or sweat or both made his chest gleam in the firelight. It really was quite hot in here. He didn't fit the stereotype of the philosopher at all, being so young and handsome and quite brawny. But no matter how hot he was, his physical appearance was dwarfed by the beauty of his brain and thoughts. His intelligence was that much hotter. That being said, Seren liked to think she would be less flustered if the man were old enough to be her father. But he was not. He must be about her own age. "We got rid of the other flute girl." "Wa-What?" "You must know there were already celebrations with heavy drinking last night. Surely you played at Alkibiades' place or some other house?" Seren nodded timidly. "So Pausanias suggested we refrain from drinking tonight and we ended up sending away the flute girl as well. A shame, because before you came in, it was all boring speeches of the old men assembled here. I enjoy the delightful harmony of music much, much more." "You don't like philosophy?" "Of course I do, but not at a drinking party celebrating the Dionysia. You're not from here, are you?" "Ahm, no?" "I don't think I've met a Spartan flute girl. Most of them come from Peiraieús." Seren laughed nervously. What the fuck, Hermes?! "I hope it's not a problem?" she mumbled. "No, no. I'm just surprised. Do you have a name, dear?" "I... I am Seren." "Seiren? What a fitting nickname! My name is-" "I know who you are!" Seren gushed, "I-I-I admire you greatly, Plato!" "Oh?" To Seren's great relief he smiled. "So you have seen me compete?" "Uh, yes, of course!" Seren would be thrilled to see him at any competition, really. "It's just a silly name my wrestling coach gave me. To intimidate my rivals, he says." "I like it!" "You like my broad shoulders, Seiren?" Seren blushed. "No, that's not what I, uh..." "It's all right. Lots of women admire them." "Ahahaha." Was he flirting with her? Or just bragging? "You may be an outstanding athlete," she said, "But I admire your words even more." "My poetry?" Now it was his time to blush. "Did you play it?" "Not yet." Seren decided to be bold, "People want to hear the same songs, Sappho, Pindar and the like. But... But maybe you can teach me how to play yours?" "No I... I burned them all." "Why would you do that?" "I wanted to focus better on my studies. Maybe I made the wrong call. Mousaios, the guy who just left? He said music is like medicine and can create harmony between opposites, that a musical education is helpful in the study of philosophy. Ah, I don't know. I don't want to bore you, flute girl." "You're not boring me, Plato. Please, tell me your thoughts!" And then, all of a sudden, a large drunken group walked into the room and joined the party, Dionysos among them. There was noise everywhere, and Plato leaned in very close and asked: "What do you say, Seiren. Shall we make our excuses and leave?"

to be continued...

some Bonus Content here--this is the original beginning to lyrical clarity that I had to completely rewrite in order to make the whole thing more consistent. It contains about 60% more Trucy Wright than the published version, but also doesn’t mesh well with what the fic ended up being, tonally.

There are three fundamental truths about Apollo Justice: first, that he will dedicate himself beyond anything else to ensuring that a fair and truthful verdict is reached in any trial he defends in; second, that he’s been styling his hair in the same style for so long that he’s terrified to change it in case nobody recognizes him anymore; and third, that he could not name a single member of any of the handful of bands he actually listens to.

The first is well-known—Apollo’s professional reputation hinges on his determination to get to the bottom of whatever wild mystery has landed in his lap this time. The second can be guessed at quite easily—he’s been known to raise concerns about replenishing his hair gel supply the way that most people worry about their car’s gas level. The third, however, comes as a surprise to most people, who tend to assume that, while Apollo only enjoys a handful of artists, he probably at least knows who they are.

Trucy Wright, naturally, has known all three of these pieces of information since the day Apollo walked through the door of the Wright Talent Agency—but (she considers, concealing a scheming grin with a well-timed flourish of her cape as she picks up a discarded law book from the floor), she’s never had an opportunity as perfect as this before.

It had been a normal day at the office—which, for the Wright Anything Agency, meant that Apollo had re-organized the old files at least twice that morning after Trucy had knocked the bookcase over in the middle of trying to make Charley the plant disappear in a shower of confetti. There had been plenty of coffee consumed, a lot of eye-rolling at the new mess of paper squares on the floor, and the eventual moment, over lunch, when Apollo had looked around the office, muttered a “fuck it” under his breath, and pulled out his headphones to block out the chaos in order to have a hope of getting some actual work done.

Now, a half-hour later, Trucy prepares her opening act.

The teenage magician swings her legs down from where she’s had them perched on the arm of the sofa and stands up, bending to pick up one of the dusty law books that’s been piled precariously beside the coffee table. She tucks the heavy legal tome under her arm and crosses the room, tiptoeing around Apollo’s desk and feigning a casual attitude as she slides it onto the shelves behind him. As Trucy balances on one leg, reaching for the highest shelf, she cranes her neck in order to peer over Apollo’s shoulder and catch a glimpse of the album artwork displayed on his phone screen.

Apollo, perceptive as ever, shifts his headphones off of one ear. “What is it now?”

He’s clearly irritated, and Trucy takes a moment to consider that perhaps she shouldn’t have been quite so enthusiastic with the magic tricks earlier. Or at least, maybe she should have knocked over something smaller than the bookcase. Ah well. Either way, it’s time for the show to begin.

She feigns a surprised denial: “Nothing! Nothing, really. It’s just...for all the complaining you do about Prosecutor Gavin’s music whenever anyone asks, you really don’t hate it at all, do you?”

Apollo frowns. “What do you mean? The Gavinners are noisy, overproduced garbage—and their lyrics don’t even make sense! I don’t even see how that’s relevant now, though—unless Gavin’s standing in the doorway.”

He tries to pretend as though he’s not glancing suspiciously at the door. Trucy lets him get away with it, this time.

“I promise you he’s not standing in the doorway. But...” She gestures towards Apollo’s phone, as if  it’s going to explain everything.

“But? Yes, shocking, I enjoy listening to music that Klavier Gavin doesn’t have anything to do with. Wow.”

“Polly…” Trucy tilts her head to one side. “Do you really not know who the lead singer of grey city sunrise is?”

Apollo frowns. “No? I’ve told you before, I don’t keep up with that stuff. I just like their music, I don’t need to know their entire personal histories.”

Trucy giggles. “Okay, but...you might want to look them up sometime. Really.”

She leaves it at that, ominous statement dangling in the stale mid-afternoon air, as she skips off towards the back room. Apollo doesn’t trust the innocence that had colored her tone one bit. But he pushes away from his desk and goes to open a window, vowing that he won’t let himself Google the band until at least after the workday is over.

Valentine’s Day Part Two

Part One

Nico went down to breakfast in a gloomier mood than usual. He’d barely slept, worried about what Connor might be planning for Will, worried he was going to plan for Will. When dawn had forced its way through the curtains Nico cursed Apollo and his stupid son, and wondered if he could get away with not leaving his cabin. He’d come to the eventual conclusion that he probably couldn’t, and had kicked his blankets off and dressed as though preparing for an apocalypse.

Will was conspicuously absent which was a little confusing. He hoped something awful hadn’t happened, and wished he’d been more specific with Connor.

He sunk down at Will’s table and tried to blend into the shadows. He hadn’t felt out of place in a while, but now he found himself wanting to disappear. The rest of camp ignored him as people gravitated to their respective others. Nico felt a little hollow as he watched, sick with nerves about Will arriving, about seeing the light in his eyes dim as he realised Nico was a failure of a boyfriend.  

Across at Zeus’ table Jason handed Piper a small jewellery box. Nico watched the joy on her face and couldn’t help smiling. He felt someone sit down next to him and, as often happened around Will, felt himself relax slightly in spite of himself. He leant against Will with a sigh and let the lingering feelings of being the odd one out melt away.

“Morning.”

“You’re up late,” Nico said trying to keep the worry out of his voice.

“The door to our cabin got stuck somehow. Took ages to try and figure it out. I thought Kayla was going to climb out of the window.”

“I was hungry,” Kayla protested, coming over with a plate piled high with food.

A stuck door was a lot tamer than Nico had been expecting which was both a relief and a worry because he was sure Connor wasn’t going to be able to be content with little distractions for very long.

Breakfast went by without Will mentioning Valentine’s Day at all. In fact, if it wasn’t for the way everyone else was acting Nico could have sworn he’d gotten the day wrong. He’d expected Will to be more into it, but was also relieved the topic hadn’t been brought up yet. Now he just needed Connor to pull through, and while Will was distracted he could at least sort out a card.

“Will!”

Nico never thought he’d be grateful to Cecil for interrupting breakfast but today Cecil was like a messenger from the gods. He tried not to grin as Cecil spoke quietly to Will. Will didn't seem happy and Nico was scared for a moment that Will was going to show his stubborn side and refuse to do whatever Cecil was asking. The whispered conversation may have been quiet but their facial expressions were loud enough and Will was beginning to look incredulous. But Cecil was apparently good at being convincing and Will appeared to give in.

"I've got to go," Will said as he stood, looking resoundingly unimpressed. "I'll be back in a bit," he added kissing Nico's cheek, and Nico should have been used to that but it still had him blushing. He thought Cecil noticed because he smirked. Nico wriggled his fingers at him in a mystical way and Cecil shrank back slightly, eyes clouding with suspicion.

"Kayla -" Will added, but Kayla waved a hand airily interrupting him.

"Me and Austin have got the infirmary. You go see what Cecil needs."

Nico watched Will go in relief and excused himself from the table as soon as he thought Will wouldn't see him rush off. He didn't see the looks Kayla and Austin exchanged. If he had, he reflected later, he might have been able to stop some of the chaos.

Cecil had had better mornings. He thought Valentine’s Day was only supposed to be stressful if you were in a relationship, but barely an hour since he had woken and he was already concerned about his blood pressure. First Will had cornered him and demanded that he find some task that could conceivably take the entire day, but was light enough to not be much of a distraction and then assign it to Will so he could spend some time with Nico. It was a fair enough request, and Will was his best friend so he'd agreed. Then Connor had cornered him and asked him to find a task that was difficult and taxing that would keep Will distracted and away from Nico. Connor was his brother so he'd argued that that seemed unfair, and shouldn't Will and Nico have a nice first Valentine’s Day.

And then Connor told him that Nico had paid them to keep him and Will apart all day. And that's when Connor decided things were probably going to get messy.

He couldn't exactly say no to Connor and he couldn't' exactly say no to Will, so he'd figured he'd just tell Will he hadn't been able to come up with anything, wait a reasonable time and then tell Connor the same thing. He'd then escape somewhere distant and wait for the whole thing to blow up.

Will was following him down from the dining pavilion. He seemed distracted and slightly irritable, but for the moment he wasn't with Nico which he supposed at least made Connor happy.

"What's up?" Will asked eventually, pulling Cecil to a stop by the cabins. "Where are we going?"

"Oh I'm not sure. We're walking."

Will gave Cecil an odd look but obviously decided he wasn't in the mood to question it.

"Did you find a job for me?"

Will seemed distracted; he’d obviously rather be with Nico. Except for some reason Nico didn't want to be with him. Nico had seemed a bit distant at breakfast and at the time, Cecil had put it down to Nico being the opposite of a morning person, but maybe Nico was getting sick of Will and was waiting to break up. Maybe that was why he didn't want to spend Valentine's Day with his boyfriend.

If they broke up it would kill Will, Cecil knew. Will might be a pain and he knew their friendship was almost entirely them annoying each other, but he did not want to see Will hurt.

So maybe if Cecil could find them a job where they'd have to work together Nico would be reminded how much he loved Will and Cecil could save Valentine’s Day. And if he could somehow do that while simultaneously keeping Will away from Nico, that would keep Connor happy and ensure he didn't have to do any chores for an entire month.

"Yes."

"Yes?" Will prompted.

"Uh, baking!"

"Baking?"

"Yeah, so the Aphrodite cabin wanted some heart shaped cookies and other stuff for the fireworks tonight."

"I can probably manage that," Will said thoughtfully.

He grinned, bouncy and excited again and Cecil really hoped that somehow everything would turn out alright.

"You're the best Cecil!" Will called as he raced off.

"You're welcome," Cecil called after him, slightly nervously.

Couple baking. That was cute right? If baking with Will wasn't going to keep them together Cecil wasn't sure there was much more he could do.

"Are you sure the egg goes in now?" Nico asked.

Will studied the recipe book and then shrugged.

"Do you think it makes a difference?"

Nico shrugged too, and cracked the egg.

He'd been in his cabin getting angry at card and glue he'd stolen from Will's cabin and wondering if it was cheating to make your boyfriend a card using materials stolen from him. Then Will had burst in, barely leaving Nico enough time to shove the craft stuff under his bed. He'd told Nico how Cecil had volunteered him to bake cookies for the Aphrodite cabin and Will couldn't say no and did Nico want to join him.

And because Will was the master of looking like a lost pleading puppy Nico couldn't say no. He was pretty sure baking cookies couldn't take too long. He'd do that, and by the time they'd finished hopefully Connor or Cecil would swoop back in to excuse him, and then Nico could go back to trying to make Will's Valentine's Day special.

In the meantime, he had to wage war on cookie dough. He stared down at the egg and the crumbled remains of the shell.

"I think you're supposed to crack them a bit more gently."

"Shut up Solace."

"Make me," Will said which made Nico really really want to make him, especially since Will had somehow got flour on his nose and looked even more adorable than usual.

"You do it then," he said instead. "If you're so smart."

Will took the bowl and cracked an egg perfectly. He looked up at Nico from under his lashes with a devastating smirk.

"Well you've got to be good at something I suppose."

"Hey!" Will protested. "I'm good at a lot of things. Putting up with you for example."

Nico stuck out his tongue and threw a handful of flour at Will. Will shrieked and protested which made Nico laugh.

"You're such a child," Will complained. And then he threw a handful of flour at Nico. Nico yelped as it hit him in the face. He stared at Will for a moment. Will stared at him. They both reached for the flour.

"Hey Lou."

"Kayla! Just the person I wanted! I made you a gift."

Kayla took the proffered painting and assessed it critically.

"It's nice," she said. "It's not my birthday though so-"

"I'm sick of not getting presents just because I'm single," Lou Ellen explained. "So I've started Friendship Day. It's on 14th of February, every year."

"Aw but I didn't get you anything."

"It's cool, I'm playing the long game. I'm guessing you didn't come down here because your psychic abilities kicked in and you wanted to wish me a happy Friend Day though."

"No. Though I have an idea of what our first friendship day celebration could be."

"Shoot."

"We need to be good friends and save Will's Valentine’s Day. He's got all this stuff to do and we need to try and help so he can get through it quickly, and have the rest of the day free to spend with Nico."

"So we're like Valentine's day superheroes? I can dig that. Let me get my spellbook, and we can go."

"What for?" Kayla asked, following Lou Ellen into the cabin.

"It might come in handy. I never leave the cabin without it."

"That's a lie."

"Besides I think there was a spell for confetti in there somewhere."

"That could be cute," Kayla agreed.

"Ooh maybe we could plan them another picnic!"

"This is going to be awesome!"

"So Nico definitely said he wanted to keep Will occupied?"

"Yep," Connor said. "And that'll still be what he said the next thousand times you ask."

Connor had recruited him on a delay-the-cookie-baking mission. Cecil wasn't entirely sure he was happy about it so was trying to engage in a subtle delay-the-delay-the-cookie-baking-mission. It was working, if only because Connor was starting to look a little uncertain about their task.

"I'm just saying," Cecil pressed, "they look kind of cute. Are we really going to break them up?"

"We're not breaking them up," Connor replied but definitely he looked unsure. "Nico just didn't want to spend time with - okay I see what you mean."

They both looked through the window again. Nico was making use of shadow travel to sneak attack Will with canned whip cream.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Cecil said again.

"Ours is not to reason why," Connor said, surprisingly eruditely.

"Look we'll just mess with a few things," Connor said decisively. "Slow the oven down, steal the icing sugar, that sort of thing. Nothing drastic. I mean it's not like they're not making it take about ten times longer on their own."

Cecil sighed but gave in. Couples baking did look like it was going reasonably well so Operation Keep-Will-And-Nico-Together was currently looking like a success.

"Fine," he said.

After all, they'd only be delaying the two having fun together. What could possibly go wrong?

Part Three