kinda sucks that WCA Quentin was so OOC because that's some of the only good art we have of him lmao. He looked so creepy in New X-Men and the Gen X art was so bad lol... WATXM also wasn't that great. I love his mohawk but it looked so ugly on him back in the day lol, and it looked really good in WCA.

Steddie PJO AU Part One

One (1) person asked for this, and it was only after I told them I'd had an idea, so, like, fuck it we ball.

The parents of the various kids will be revealed as the series goes on, but I'll look forward to your guesses along the way!

Also, I haven't read the books in a hot fucking minute, but the trailer has had me in a chokehold. This is written more for fun than anything else, so just shut off your brain and enjoy the ride without thinking about accuracy. You'll love it, I promise!

As always, if you see any typos no you didn't ;)

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With a low, frustrated growl, Eddie tears a page out of his notebook, crumples it into a ball, and throws it on the floor of his tent. All he gets for his troubles is another page of lyrics underneath the first that fail to actually do what he wants. "Fucking shit prophecy," he mutters, tearing that page out, too.

It hits the ground right as Chrissy pokes her head into the tent. She watches it bounce once before settling on the ground. "How's the songwriting?" she jokes, letting the tent's flap fall shut behind her.

"Bad," Eddie says, dropping the notebook and standing. He glares at the paper balls and kicks one away. "Just as bad as the prophecy itself."

"Aww, it's not that bad," Chrissy says, walking a little closer and playfully punching Eddie's arm. Her smile is bright enough to make Eddie feel like he needs sunglasses, and that isn't even because Chrissy's father is Apollo. That's just all her. "At least your prophecy doesn't promise, you know, horrible death."

Eddie scoffs, turning to look at Chrissy as he gestures at his Def Leppard shirt and torn jeans and chunky rings and general metalhead vibe. "Do I look like someone who should be getting that prophecy?" he asks.

He doesn't wait for her to answer before scrunching his face and reciting in a high, mocking voice, "You shall witness an unfair fight between land and sky where feathers with great reluctance fly. And as the sun is shining bright, you shall be swaying in the moon's sweet light."

By the time he's done, he's clasped his hands and held them up to his face with an exaggerated doe-eyed expression. Eddie drops it the moment he finishes, his nose scrunching in disgust as he rolls his eyes. "I have a reputation to uphold, Chrissy."

She doesn't take his complaints seriously. Instead, Chrissy rolls her eyes and sits on the edge of Eddie's cot. "Sure, sure, you're too cool for anything good to happen to you. Still, you might be better off if you didn't try turning that prophecy into something angry."

Eddie huffs, kicks another paper ball, and drops to a crouch next to the cot. After a few seconds, he begrudgingly admits, "Yeah, maybe."

Chrissy sympathetically pats his head, her touch warm and light, and smiles at him. "In other news, we've got another retrieval request for you," she says.

"Oh, boy, work."

"C'mon, you enjoy them," Chrissy says, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a folded piece of paper. "A cyclops sighted some demigod kids running around with, well, she wasn't sure if he was also a demigod or not. But they won't be safe long when they're clustered together like that, so, go bring 'em back."

She passes Eddie the piece of paper and watches as he unfolds it and frowns at the two words written there: "Athens, Tennessee."

"Are you kidding me? That's so cliche," Eddie says.

"Yeah, but at least it's not California or something."

"Thank fuck for small miracles," Eddie mutters, folding up the paper again and shoving it into his pocket.

Looks like he's got packing to do.

The sun is shining, birds are tweeting, and a cool wind is blowing across the park. Steve lets out a slow breath, his shoulders starting to relax as he leans against a tree and watches Will and Lucas lay out a few blankets, Mike and Dustin get into an argument about the scale proportions of the Parthenon, and Max, Erica, and El throw a frisbee between them.

It's been a long month, one that seemed to be filled with more running and near-death experiences than they're used to. And they're used to a lot of running and near-death experiences.

So, taking a day to just relax in the park sounded great when El suggested it, but Steve had still hesitated. Who knows what could find them if they linger in a park too long. When he voiced these concerns, the kids just banded together to convince Steve, and he relented when they compromised on him bringing the nail bat along.

"Steve, do you wanna lay down?" Lucas asks, gesturing to the blankets. Will is already there, stretched out and smiling up at a rainbow stretching across the sky.

Steve joins them, pulls a Bluetooth speaker out of one of the backpacks holding the blankets down, and connects his phone. Music starts playing, and he sprawls across a blanket, pillowing his head on his arms and taking in the sunshine. "You know, this is nice," he says.

"Yeah. We should do this more often," Will whispers, nearly drowned out by the grass rustling in the breeze.

Between the breeze and the music, Steve starts to drift off, his breathing evening out as his mind wanders. He's half asleep when he hears Dustin shout, "It's a fucking one-to-one asshole!"

His words are quickly followed by Mike shouting back, "Who gives a shit?!"

Steve sighs and adds his own voice to the mix. "Stop fighting!"

"Yeah, guys, stop fighting," Max says, and Steve can imagine her tongue sticking out at them as he hears Erica snort.

"Oh, fuck you," Dustin shoots back.

"That's it!" Steve announces, sitting up and glaring at the kids. "Get over here."

His voice leaves no room for argument, and he'd feel bad at how the kids deflate if he didn't already know they're all menaces. Once he's got all seven kids on the blankets, he sighs and says, "Look, guys, let's not fight. How about we all just sit here for a bit, enjoy the breeze, and then we'll go get lunch."

The kids glance at each other, a silent conversation that Steve barely follows passing between them before Mike nods. "Yeah, sure, I guess."

"Great, now, just re--"

"Oh, how cute!"

The sudden, saccharine voice sets Steve's entire body on edge. He slowly looks over his shoulder, staring at the middle-aged woman smiling down at them. Something about her is familiarly off, but he tries to give her the benefit of the doubt. So, Steve flashes a charming smile and asks, "Hi, can I help you with something?"

The woman's smile turns a little sharp, and she shakes her head. "Oh, no, I just had to commend you on your ability to round up these kids like that," she explains.

Steve hums and pushes himself up, keeping a hold on his bat so he can rest the end on the ground and lean on it. He feels more than sees the kids start to shift until they're behind him. "Well, thanks. Did you want advice or something on caring for your own kids?" he asks.

She laughs, short and grating on Steve's ears, and then tilts her head not unlike a bird. "No, no. It's just impressive that you've managed to keep them alive for so long," she says, her voice distorting and becoming shriller as she speaks.

Yep. There it is.

"Wow, that's even faster than usual," Lucas says.

He's right, which just makes Steve even more upset. Can he not get more than fifteen minutes of peace? Can he not just lay back and enjoy the sunshine without worrying about some monster coming after his kids? Can he not fucking relax for once?

Steve feels the frustration build and build in his chest, crackling through him until he's ready to burst, and he stands up straighter. "I'll give you one warning," he says, his voice low as he watches feathers sprout from the woman's skin. "You walk away right now, and I won't beat the shit out of you."

The woman, who seems to be mostly bird by now and is probably a harpy, just laughs again, like Steve's told her the funniest joke she's ever heard. "You? Defeat me?" she asks, her eyes roaming over Steve before she laughs again. "I am worse than your nightmares. I have eaten more demigods than you can count. I have feasted on their screams and crunched their bones between my teeth, and I look forward to doing the same with these children. What could a lone son of some lesser god possibly do to stop me?"

From behind him, Steve hears a few of the kids inhale sharply, an almost sympathetic sound. "Well, she's done it now," Erica says.

"Yes. Steve is going to kill her," El agrees, her voice soft and brushing against Steve's ears like a tiny snake.

And yeah, they're right. Maybe Steve would have just beaten her unconscious and then gotten the hell out of dodge, but now she's threatened his kids. She's lost any chance at mercy from him.

With a twirl of his bat and a vicious grin, Steve rolls his shoulders back and says, "Wanna find out, overgrown chicken?" he asks.

He doesn't even bother waiting for an answer before swinging his bat, the nails dragging across the harpy's chest and ripping a shriek from her. Now that Steve is thinking about it, violence is also a great way to relieve stress, and he's certainly not going to look a gift harpy in the mouth.

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If you'd like to be tagged in future parts, just let me know!

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader -Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 9: Percy Forces Me To Join A Quest

The next morning, Percy moved to cabin three. Luke was the only one I could hang out with from my cabin. He was also the one who took care of my wounds after the thing happened. Nobody mentioned the hellhound, but I got the feeling they were all talking about it behind my back. The attack had scared everybody. It sent two messages: one, that I managed to command a hellhound; and two, I came with the son of Poseidon. They all assume I would be as great as Percy. The other campers steered clear of me as much as possible. Only Luke struck around. Yes, even Percy started ignoring me. I figured it had something to do with water and stuffs. Cabin eleven was too nervous to have sword class with him after what happened in the woods, so he had one-on-one with Luke. I usually sit in to watch them in hopes of Percy talking to me again. But nada. "You're going to need all the training you can get," Luke promised, as they were working with swords and flaming torches. "Now let's try that viper-beheading strike again. Fifty more repetitions." Annabeth still taught Percy and I Greek but on different times I had mine in the mornings. Even Clarisse kept her distance, though her venomous looks made it clear she wanted to kill me. I wished she would just yell or punch me or something. I'd rather get into fights every day than be ignored. I stayed with Luke most of my time. We'd gotten close that talking about gods wasn't such a touchy subject. He also told me stuffs about himself, like how he got his scar and small stuffs. I was still in bed in cabin eleven. My body told me it was morning, but it was dark outside, and thunder rolled across the hills. A storm was brewing. I hadn't dreamed that. It was so early that most of the campers were still asleep. "Good morning?" I saw Luke standing near the door. "Eh... good enough I guess." I said sitting on my bed. "It's really boring since I don't do anything." "Not sure if I'm bringing you good news or bad," He smiled taking the seat beside me. "But Mr. D wants to see you." "Really? Will I finally get to do something fun?" "I feel like I should be offended." He gasped dramatically. "Why? Am I not fun?" I laughed, "Pretty much yeah." "Ouch. Anyways, I'd better let him tell you what's up." "Walk with me?" I asked with an UwU face. "I would, but commitment and all that." He joked. "Aight then. I'll get ready, wait for me outside." "I said I won't!" "Geez don't need to be in a hurry. I won't take long." I got dressed and went out to see him with an exaggerated frown. "You better walk fast. I'll leave as soon as you get there." For days, I'd been half expecting a summons to the Big House. Now that Percy was declared a son of Poseidon, one of the Big Three gods who weren't supposed to have kids, I figured it was a crime for him just to be alive. They're probably suspicious of me now as well with Percy and I's relation. The other gods had probably been debating the best way to punish me for existing, and now Mr. D was ready to deliver their verdict. "So... with Percy being a big three material. What would that make me?" "Well, putting aside the fact that you suck, you drown at every body of water that's at least a foot deep, you don't smell like a half-blood. I'd say you're... one of the big three's. Maybe Zeus's." "Har har. I'm just really worried you know? With Percy getting claimed as Poseidon's... and I came with him. And water just loves me so much. I'd assume I'm somewhere along the lines of Zeus and... Zeus. Is there someone stronger than Zeus?" "Depends on who you asked." "If I asked Zeus he'd definitely answer Zeus." I heard a loud thunder echoed. "Someone's brave." Luke laughed. Over Long Island Sound, the sky looked like ink soup coming to a boil. A hazy curtain of rain was coming in our direction. I asked Luke if we needed an umbrella. "No," he said. "It never rains here unless we want it to." "So my kiss under the rain fantasy is a no?" "If it has to be here... probably." I pointed at the storm. "What the heck is that, then?" "Bad news. But don't worry, it'll pass by us." I realized he was right. In the week I'd been here, it had never even been overcast. The few rain clouds I'd seen had skirted right around the edges of the valley. But this storm... this one was huge. At the volleyball pit, the kids from Apollo's cabin were playing a morning game against the satyrs. Dionysus's twins were walking around in the strawberry fields, making the plants grow. Everybody was going about their normal business, but they looked tense. They kept their eyes on the storm. When Luke saw the front porch of the Big House. "Whatever they say. Don't choose the option where you'll die." "Half a promise. Depends on the other option." "Well I'll give you an easier promise. Don't die." "Not really easier but okay."

After he ruffled my hair, I walked up to the front porch of the Big House. Dionysus sat at the pinochle table in his tiger-striped Hawaiian shirt with his Diet Coke, just as he had on my first day. Chiron sat across the table in his fake wheelchair. They were playing against invisible opponents--two sets of cards hovering in the air. "Y/N!" Grover greeted. "Well, well," Mr. D said without looking up. "Our little celebrity finally got his request." I turned to see Percy who was looking at me and then moved away. I waited for him to greet... "Come closer, both of you," Mr. D said. "And don't expect me to kowtow to you, mortal, just because old Barnacle-Beard is your father." A net of lightning flashed across the clouds. Thunder shook the windows of the house. "Blah, blah, blah," Dionysus said. Chiron feigned interest in his pinochle cards. Grover cowered by the railing, his hooves clopping back and forth. "If I had my way," Dionysus said, "I would cause your molecules to erupt in flames. We'd sweep up the ashes and be done with a lot of trouble. But Chiron seems to feel this would be against my mission at this cursed camp: to keep you little brats safe from harm." "Spontaneous combustion is a form of harm, Mr. D," Chiron put in. "Nonsense," Dionysus said. "Boy wouldn't feel a thing. Nevertheless, I've agreed to restrain myself I'm thinking of turning you into a dolphin instead, sending you back to your father." "Mr. D—" Chiron warned. "Oh, all right," Dionysus relented. "There's one more option. But it's deadly foolishness." Dionysus rose, and the invisible players' cards dropped to the table. "I'm off to Olympus for the emergency meeting. If the boy is still here when I get back, I'll turn him into an Atlantic bottlenose. Do you understand? And Perseus Jackson, if you're at all smart, you'll see that's a much more sensible choice than what Chiron feels you must do." Dionysus picked up a playing card, twisted it, and it became a plastic rectangle. A credit card? No. A security pass. He snapped his fingers. The air seemed to fold and bend around him. He became a hologram, then a wind, then he was gone, leaving only the smell of fresh-pressed grapes lingering behind. Chiron smiled at me, but he looked tired and strained. "Sit, Percy, please. You too Y/N and Grover." We did. Grover sat between us. Chiron laid his cards on the table, a winning hand he hadn't gotten to use. "Tell me, Percy," he said. "What did you make of the hellhound?" "It scared me," I said. "If Y/N hadn't told it to stand down, I'd be dead." I saw Percy turn to my direction, which made me roll my eyes. "You'll meet worse, Percy. Far worse, before you're done." "Done... with what?" "Your quest, of course. Will you accept it?" I glanced at Grover, who was crossing his fingers. "Um, sir," I said, "you haven't told me what it is yet." Chiron grimaced. "Well, that's the hard part, the details." Thunder rumbled across the valley. The storm clouds had now reached the edge of the beach. As far as I could see, the sky and the sea were boiling together. "Poseidon and Zeus," Percy said. "They're fighting over something valuable... something that was stolen, aren't they?". Chiron and Grover exchanged looks. Chiron sat forward in his wheelchair. "How did you know that?" "The weather since Christmas has been weird, like the sea and the sky are fighting. Then I talked to Annabeth, and she'd overheard something about a theft. And... I've also been having these dreams." "I knew it," Grover said. "Hush, satyr," Chiron ordered. "But it is his quest!" Grover's eyes were bright with excitement. "It must be!" "Only the Oracle can determine." Chiron stroked his bristly beard. "Nevertheless, Percy, you are correct. Your father and Zeus are having their worst quarrel in centuries. They are fighting over something valuable that was stolen. To be precise: a lightning bolt." I laughed. "A what?" "Do not take this lightly," Chiron warned. "I'm not talking about some tinfoil-covered zigzag you'd see in a second-grade play. I'm talking about a two-foot-long cylinder of high-grade celestial bronze, capped on both ends with god-level explosives." "Oh." "Zeus's master bolt," Chiron said, getting worked up now. "The symbol of his power, from which all other lightning bolts are patterned. The first weapon made by the Cyclopes for the war against the Titans, the bolt that sheered the top off Mount Etna and hurled Kronos from his throne; the master bolt, which packs enough power to make mortal hydrogen bombs look like firecrackers." "And it's missing?" "Stolen," Chiron said. "By who?" "By whom," Chiron corrected. Once a teacher, always a teacher. "By you." "At least"—Chiron held up a hand—"that's what Zeus thinks. During the winter solstice, at the last council of the gods, Zeus and Poseidon had an argument. The usual nonsense: 'Mother Rhea always liked you best', 'Air disasters are more spectacular than sea disasters,' et cetera. Afterward, Zeus realized his master bolt was missing, taken from the throne room under his very nose. He immediately blamed Poseidon. Now, a god cannot usurp another god's symbol of power directly—that is forbidden by the most ancient of divine laws. But Zeus believes your father convinced a human hero to take it." "But I didn't—" "Patience and listen, child," Chiron said. "Zeus has good reason to be suspicious. The forges of the Cyclopes are under the ocean, which gives Poseidon some influence over the makers of his brother's lightning. Zeus believes Poseidon has taken the master bolt, and is now secretly having the Cyclopes build an arsenal of illegal copies, which might be used to topple Zeus from his throne. The only thing Zeus wasn't sure about was which hero Poseidon used to steal the bolt. Now Poseidon has openly claimed you as his son. You were in New York over the winter holidays. You could easily have snuck into Olympus. Zeus believes he has found his thief." "But I've never even been to Olympus! Zeus is crazy!" Chiron and Grover glanced nervously at the sky. The clouds didn't seem to be parting around us, as Luke had promised. They were rolling straight over our valley, sealing us in like a coffin lid. "Er, Percy...?" Grover said. "We don't use the c-word to describe the Lord of the Sky." "Perhaps paranoid," Chiron suggested. "Then again, Poseidon has tried to unseat Zeus before. I believe that was question thirty-eight on your final exam...." He looked at Percy. Chiron was waiting for an answer. "Something about a golden net?" He answered. "Poseidon and Hera and a few other gods... they, like, trapped Zeus and wouldn't let him out until he promised to be a better ruler, right?" "Correct," Chiron said. "And Zeus has never trusted Poseidon since. Of course, Poseidon denies stealing the master bolt. He took great offense at the accusation. The two have been arguing back and forth for months, threatening war. And now, you've come along—the proverbial last straw." "But I'm just a kid!" "Percy," Grover cut in, "if you were Zeus, and you already thought your brother was plotting to overthrow you, then your brother suddenly admitted he had broken the sacred oath he took after World War II, that he's fathered a new mortal hero who might be used as a weapon against you.... Wouldn't that put a twist in your toga?" "But I didn't do anything. Poseidon—my dad—he didn't really have this master bolt stolen, did he?" Chiron sighed. "Most thinking observers would agree that thievery is not Poseidon's style. But the Sea God is too proud to try convincing Zeus of that. Zeus has demanded that Poseidon return the bolt by the summer solstice. That's June twenty-first, ten days from now. Poseidon wants an apology for being called a thief by the same date. I hoped that diplomacy might prevail, that Hera or Demeter or Hestia would make the two brothers see sense. But your arrival has inflamed Zeus's temper. Now neither god will back down. Unless someone intervenes, unless the master bolt is found and returned to Zeus before the solstice, there will be war. And do you know what a full-fledged war would look like, Percy?" "Bad?" "Imagine the world in chaos. Nature at war with itself. Olympians forced to choose sides between Zeus and Poseidon. Destruction. Carnage. Millions dead. Western civilization turned into a battleground so big it will make the Trojan War look like a water-balloon fight." "Bad," I repeated. "And you, Percy Jackson, would be the first to feel Zeus's wrath." It started to rain. Volleyball players stopped their game and stared in stunned silence at the sky. I had brought this storm to Half-Blood Hill. Zeus was punishing the whole camp because of Percy. I was furious. "So he has to find the stupid bolt," I said. "And return it to Zeus." "What better peace offering," Chiron said, "than to have the son of Poseidon return Zeus's property?" "If Poseidon doesn't have it, where is the thing?" "I believe I know." Chiron's expression was grim. "Part of a prophecy I had years ago... well, some of the lines make sense to me, now. But before I can say more, you must officially take up the quest. You must seek the counsel of the Oracle." "Why can't you tell me where the bolt is beforehand?" "Because if I did, you would be too afraid to accept the challenge." "Good reason." "You agree then?" He looked at Grover, who nodded encouragingly. Easy for him. He wasn't the one Zeus wanted to kill. Percy then turned to me, "All right," he said. "But, I'll go when Y/N comes with." "Woah there! I am not going anywhere." I hissed. You ignore me for days and now you want me to die with you now? "Why do I have to go with you?" "Percy---" "I don't want to leave without her." He looked down. I felt guilty about turning him down. Which was stupid since he's the one at fault. I gave a sigh, I hope Luke won't get mad at me. "It's better than you being turned into a dolphin." I mumbled. "I'll go." "Then it's time you consulted the Oracle," Chiron said. "Go upstairs, Percy Jackson, to the attic. When you come back down, assuming you're still sane, we will talk more." Before Percy came up he took my arm and pulled me in a hug. "I wanted you there, so we could save our parents together. After this quest, you me your mom and dad and my mom, will stay together." I hugged him back and nodded. "Thank you." Four flights up, the stairs ended under a green trapdoor. Percy pulled the cord. The door swung down, and a wooden ladder clattered into place. After he went up. Chiron turned to me. "Hmm? Something to say?" I asked in a hopefully not rude tone. "I've had enough of people staring at me thinking, I summoned that hellhound." "Y/N, I assure you I don't think you'd do that. I am just confused as to why it followed your command." "Did you maybe forget to tell us something? I really can't seem to find out who you are." "Well... I don't think I forgot to mention anything. Maybe the fact that water hates me, I've never been on a plane, and I am low-key kinda scared of the dark depending on the situation." "Water hates you?" Grover asked. "First time swimming, beach, I was 5. I drowned at a supposedly 3 feet deep water. I haven't been near any bodies of water ever since. Until I met Percy, I drowned at the beach again. If I wasn't mistaken I was few meters away from the water and it pulled me and I almost drowned." "It would seem, Poseidon hates you. Why would he?" "My parents must've realized that fish god hates me and didn't take chances on the others." I could tell Chiron wanted to continue but Percy came down, "Well?" Chiron asked. He slumped into a chair at the pinochle table. I could see he wasn't happy. "Are you okay?" I asked him. He looked at me warily and nodded. "She said I would retrieve what was stolen." Grover sat forward, chewing excitedly on the remains of a Diet Coke can. "That's great!" "What did the Oracle say exactly?" Chiron pressed. "This is important." "She . .. she said I would go west and face a god who had turned. I would retrieve what was stolen and see it safely returned." "I knew it," Grover said... Chiron didn't look satisfied. "Anything else?" "No," He said. "That's about it." I took a hold of Percy's hand. And he gave me a look that said, 'I'll tell you later.' "Very well, Percy. But know this: the Oracle's words often have double meanings. Don't dwell on them too much. The truth is not always clear until events come to pass." "Okay," I said, anxious to change topics. "So where do we go? Who's this god in the west?" "Ah, think, Percy," Chiron said. "If Zeus and Poseidon weaken each other in a war, who stands to gain?" "Somebody else who wants to take over?" he guessed. "Yes, quite. Someone who harbors a grudge, who has been unhappy with his lot since the world was divided eons ago, whose kingdom would grow powerful with the deaths of millions. Someone who hates his brothers for forcing him into an oath to have no more children, an oath that both of them have now broken." I thought about my dreams, the evil voice that had spoken from under the ground. "Hades." Chiron nodded. "The Lord of the Dead is the only possibility." A scrap of aluminum dribbled out of Grover's mouth. "Whoa, wait. Wh-what?" "A Fury came after Percy," Chiron reminded him. "She watched the young man until she was sure of his identity, then tried to kill him. Furies obey only one lord: Hades." "Yes, but—but Hades hates all heroes," Grover protested. "Especially if he has found out Percy is a son of Poseidon... ." "A hellhound got into the forest," Chiron continued. "Those can only be summoned from the Fields of Punishment, and it had to be summoned by someone within the camp. Hades must have a spy here. He must suspect Poseidon will try to use Percy to clear his name. Hades would very much like to kill this young half-blood before he can take on the quest." "Great," Percy muttered. "That's two major gods who want to kill me." "Hey, I beat you, I got all of them." I smirked. I was trying to lighten up the mood and Percy finally cracked a smile. "But a quest to..." Grover swallowed. "I mean, couldn't the master bolt be in some place like Maine? Maine's very nice this time of year." "Hades sent a minion to steal the master bolt," Chiron insisted. "He hid it in the Underworld, knowing full well that Zeus would blame Poseidon. I don't pretend to understand the Lord of the Dead's motives perfectly, or why he chose this time to start a war, but one thing is certain. Percy must go to the Underworld, find the master bolt, and reveal the truth." A strange fire burned in my stomach. The weirdest thing was: it wasn't fear. It was anticipation. I wasn't feeling scared of anything right now. I felt like I could face anything. I was ready to take him on. Anyone in a matter of fact. Besides, if my mom and dad might be in the Underworld... which would be unlikely. Who knows maybe I could bribe him and talk him into reviving them. Or what if he's misunderstood? What if there's a plot twist somewhere here, and it actually wasn't Hades's fault? Grover was trembling. He'd started eating pinochle cards like potato chips. The poor guy needed to complete a quest with us so he could get his searcher's license, whatever that was. This was suicide. "Look, if we know it's Hades," Percy told Chiron, "why can't we just tell the other gods? Zeus or Poseidon could go down to the Underworld and bust some heads." "It might not be him you know." I added. "She's right, suspecting and knowing are not the same," Chiron said. "Besides, even if the other gods suspect Hades—and I imagine Poseidon does—they couldn't retrieve the bolt themselves. Gods cannot cross each other's territories except by invitation. That is another ancient rule. Heroes, on the other hand, have certain privileges. They can go anywhere, challenge anyone, as long as they're bold enough and strong enough to do it. No god can be held responsible for a hero's actions. Why do you think the gods always operate through humans?" "You're saying I'm being used." "I'm saying it's no accident Poseidon has claimed you now. It's a very risky gamble, but he's in a desperate situation. He needs you." "Damn, my parent doesn't? I'm going on a deadly quest thanks to Arthur Curry right here. Least they could do is support me and let me know They'll be proud of me saving the world." I huffed. "You've known I was Poseidon's son all along, haven't you?" "I had my suspicions. As I said... I've spoken to the Oracle, too." I got the feeling there was a lot he wasn't telling us about his prophecy, but I decided I couldn't worry about that right now. After all, I was holding back information too. "So let me get this straight," I said. "We're supposed go to the Underworld and confront the Lord of the Dead." "Check," Chiron said. "Find the most powerful weapon in the universe." "Check." "And get it back to Olympus before the summer solstice, in ten days." "That's about right." Percy and I looked at each other then we looked over at Grover, who gulped down the ace of hearts. "Did I mention that Maine is very nice this time of year?" he asked weakly. "You don't have to go," Percy told him. "I can't ask that of you. "Oh..." He shifted his hooves. "No... it's just that satyrs and underground places... well..." He took a deep breath, then stood, brushing the shredded cards and aluminum bits off his T-shirt. "You saved my life, Percy. Both of you did. If... if you're serious about wanting me along, I won't let you down." I felt so relieved I wanted to cry, though I didn't think that would be very heroic. I wasn't sure what good a satyr could do against the forces of the dead, but I felt better knowing he'd be with us. "All the way, G-man." Percy turned to Chiron. "So where do we go? The Oracle just said to go west." "The entrance to the Underworld is always in the west. It moves from age to age, just like Olympus. Right now, of course, it's in America." "Where?" Chiron looked surprised. "I thought that would be obvious enough. The entrance to the Underworld is in Los Angeles." "Oh," I said. "Naturally. So we just get on a plane—" "No!" Grover shrieked. "Percy, what are you thinking? Have you ever been on a plane in your life?" I shook my head, feeling embarrassed. My mom had never taken me anywhere by plane. She'd always said we didn't have the money. Besides, her parents had died in a plane crash. "We're not allowed to fly because Zeus is a stuck up who doesn't want others touching his stuff without permission." "Y/N!" Grover panicked when loud thunder echoed above us. I wanted to yell, 'Oh shut up thunder boy.' But I still wanted try fulfilling my promise to Luke with all I can. "Percy, think," Chiron said. "You are the son of the Sea God. Your father's bitterest rival is Zeus, Lord of the Sky. Your mother knew better than to trust you in an airplane. You would be in Zeus's domain. You would never come down again alive." Overhead, lightning crackled. Thunder boomed. "Okay," I said, determined not to look at the storm. "So, I'll travel overland." "That's right," Chiron said. "Two companions may accompany you. Grover is one. The other is Y/N. But someone else has already volunteered, if you will accept her help." "Gee," I said, feigning surprise. "Who else would be stupid enough to volunteer for a quest like this?" The air shimmered behind Chiron. Annabeth became visible, stuffing her Yankees cap into her back pocket. "I've been waiting a long time for a quest, seaweed brain," she said. "Athena is no fan of Poseidon, but if you're going to save the world, I'm the best person to keep you from messing up." "I'll gladly give you my spot and all but... Percy and I are a duo." I lifted my fist which he bumped. "But she's right, we can't leave the world at the hands of two idiots and a scaredy-cat." "Can't we have four people on a quest?" "You can also pick more than two people to join, but this is considered dangerous as three is a sacred number. Any more than three on a quest could result in a catastrophe, including a member of the quest going missing, dying, or the quest failing." "Willing to risk it Peabody?" She gave me a glare. No. I assure you no one shall be lost in this quest. They were all looking at me weirdly. "What did you say?" "I asked if you were willing to risk it...?" I was confused. "Y/N you're doing it again." "Doing what? I am literally not doing anything wrong. Wanna fite me? I will back out of this quest." I gave an exaggerated glare. Annabeth turned to Chiron, who was looking down on me. "I suppose... if Percy is willing to risk it and all parties approve. I could allow this as a four person quest." "Well, I call not it to the dying person." I raised my hand. "But you can come Peabody. We need a not so stupid guy." "Well, if she say yes..." "I-I... don't really..." "I want to come." "I suppose you have a plan, wise girl?" Her cheeks colored. "Do you want my help or not?" "A quartet," I said. "Hopefully it works." "Excellent," Chiron said. "This afternoon, we can take you as far as the bus terminal in Manhattan. After that, you are on your own." Lightning flashed. Rain poured down on the meadows that were never supposed to have violent weather. "No time to waste," Chiron said. "I think you should all get packing." I took Percy's hand and gave him a look to remind him about his quest. "I'll tell you later."

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UwU Haha I'm better now :) I am sorry for being on haitus And for some parts that I might've forgotten to erase UwU -kookie-doughs

Taglist?

@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @the-natureofme @booknerd-3000

Renaissance Faire

Ian and Barley take their little sister Judy to the Renaissance Faire.  In the midsts of having a good time, Barley helps Ian figure things out at a clothing bazaar.

Tried to get a good balance with Ian, as he’s just discovering some things about himself, but is afraid he’ll get teased for it.  It was a little trickier this time around, but I think I kept it in character and away from being offensive.  If I do offend, I apologize.

It was a mild Saturday afternoon in autumn.  Colt had to work and Laurel wanted to rest, so the Lightfoot brothers were responsible with babysitting their five year old elftaur sister Judith.  Since it’s the season, and it just opened this weekend, Ian and Barley decided to bring Judy along to the Renaissance Faire.  The brothers have been going together since their quest, but now Judy can tag along and enjoy it with them.  Barley was dressed in his adventurer outfit, Ian was wearing his normal everyday clothes and carrying his wizard staff, and Judy was dressed in her green Princess Kenna dress from Pretty Pretty Centaurs.

Even with watching a five year old and having to enjoy more of the kiddie things, the day started out great.  They went to the stables to see the dragons and griffins, Judy even got to pet one. They saw blacksmiths, glassblowers, leather workers, and weavers.  They got to see an actual joust, but had to leave early when one of the jousters fell off his dragon steed and Judy got scared.  After a quick lunch at the food court, the trio ran into a few wandering performers, one claiming he was doing “magic” when it was really simple tricks.  It was when Judy proclaimed that his big brother Ian was a wizard too that Ian sheepishly showed off a few spells of his own, really wowing the crowd with actual magic.  Ian felt just as embarrassed as the pouting performer.  He didn’t mean to upstage the guy, but Barley and Judy did so much encouraging that it was drawing a crowd, and it got pretty awkward.

The brothers were on their way to the arts and crafts section when Judy caught sight of something and ran into the bazaar, with Ian and Barley chasing after her.  They checked a shop or two when Barley found Judy in a tent selling clothing and jewelry and called Ian over.  Ian caught up to catch the little elftaur happily fawning over an adult sized princess dress so extravagant and expensive that it was displayed under glass.

“It’s so pretty!  I want it!” Judy exclaimed.

“I’m afraid that’s a little out of our price range,” Barley admitted.

Judy pouted, stomping her hoof into the ground.  “I want it!”

“It’s too big for you,” Ian said, hoping that truth will end her tantrum.

Judy finally realized this and her face fell.  Her elf ears perked up, she looked at the dress and then back at Ian.  “I bet Iandelle would look pretty in it.”

Ian’s eyes grew wide, he gripped his staff with both hands as he quickly darted around the tent, seeing if anyone he knew was in there.  Just a cyclops dressed in medieval commoner clothes at the register, and he wasn’t paying much attention.  It’s not like the cyclops knew Ian’s little identity anyhow, but he didn’t want anyone outside of the family to put the pieces together and realize that he spends his play time with Judy in an actual dress.

Barley could catch Ian’s fears and told Judy.  “I’m sure she would, Judy.  Why don’t you go to the children’s clothes over there?  We’ll be over here.”

Judy trotted off to the racks of children’s costumes as Ian and Barley made their way to the men’s costume section.  As they ducked between two racks, Ian gave a shaking sigh of relief.

“You know,” Barley commented in a quiet voice, “you really gotta calm down.  It’s cute how you do girly stuff with Judy.”

“I don’t want people to know about that,” Ian replied back in a hushed tone.

“Who cares?” Barley shrugged.

“I do!” Ian looked over the racks, the cashier was still bored and Judy was fiddling with some play dresses.  Ian pretended to leaf through some of the male costumes, and Barley followed suit.  “Do you have any idea what would happen if someone found out?  My social life would be over.”

“As much as I hate to admit it, Ian, it’s not the dark ages,” Barley said.  “It’s modern day.  Times have changed.  Guys can wear dresses.”

“I have a bad enough time with some people treating my crap as it is,” Ian debated.  “If word got out that I spend some time at home in dresses and stockings-“

“Ian,” Barley commented sternly.  “You’re acting a little transphobic.”

Ian stammered, trying to explain what he meant by that.  “I- I’m no- I mean-“  Losing focus of where he was, Ian accidentally walked into a mannequin, knocking it over, along with himself, to the ground.

That got the cyclops’s attention.  “Hey!” The cyclops started storming over there. Ian panicked, grabbed a random piece of clothing off a nearby rack and covered his feet up to his calves with it. “You better not be stealing anything in here!” the cyclops snapped as he approached the two.

“I’m okay,” Ian replied sourly, realizing the cyclops was worried if they were thieves rather than if Ian was hurt.

“And watch your damn kid! I’m not a babysitter!”  The cyclops turned and stormed back to his post.

“Language!  She’s five!” Barley shouted back.

Ian sighed, then tensed up as he felt Barley tug the piece of clothing off his legs.  “No no, I got it,” he stammered, reaching for the tunic.

Barley completely pulled it away, revealing Ian’s lower legs.  Ian was wearing his usual denim jeans and blue sneakers, but in his sitting position his pant legs pulled up a bit, revealing the white stockings underneath. They were white and plain, so they looked like socks when they completely covered Ian’s legs, but when his ankles were exposed, it was pretty obvious.

“Dude.”  Barley looked up at Ian.

“I- I was out of socks,” Ian lied.  Barley gave a look, he clearly knew Ian was lying.  Ian sighed, crossing his arms, resting them on his knees.  “I use my regular voice when I’m ‘Iandelle,’” he quietly admitted, so quiet only Barley could hear.  “I don’t even like wearing the dress.  But… I like the feel of the stockings… and lately I’ve been enjoying how good the lipstick looks on me, and…”  Ian sighed. “… I don’t know what I am.”

Barley paused after Ian confessed to him.  He placed a comforting hand on Ian’s shoulder.  “Hey.  You’re Ian.”

“But I don’t know who I am,” Ian repeated.

“You just told me,” Barley replied.  “You’re a guy who likes some girly stuff.”

“But what if someone finds out?”

“Who cares?”

“I do!” Ian quietly shouted, frustrated with the whole situation as he rubbed his head with the heels of his palms.

Barley sat up on his heels, thinking for a moment.  He then got an idea, jumped up onto his feet and walked away.  Ian was left alone for a moment, wiping a frustrating tear from his eye before climbing up on his feet.  He placed the mannequin back upright and brushed the dirt and grass off of its outfit, as the floor is just the ground of the field that the faire sets their tents up every year.  He turned around and jumped back to see Barley inches from his face.  Barley was grinning from pointy ear to ear, like he had something he couldn’t wait to show Ian.  “… what?”

Barley revealed what he had behind his back.  On a simple hanger was a green plaid fabric.

Ian was confused.  “A skirt?”

“A kilt,” Barley explained.

“A kilt?” Ian was more confused.

“You never heard of a kilt before?” Barley asked, surprised.  “Guys wear them.”

“So even though I don’t like princess dresses,” Ian replied, still confused, “you gave me a skirt.”

Barley rolled his eyes. “I’m trying to show you that guys wear ‘girly’ stuff too.  In the olden days, guys would wear these.  In some kingdoms, it was traditional.  Soldiers would wear them.  Hell, I think in one kingdom, only guys could wear them.”

Ian was eyeing the kilt again, only less oddly.  “Huh.”

Barley shoved the clothing into Ian’s arm.  “Just try it on.”

“How?” Ian asked.

Barley pointed behind Ian. In the corner was an area blocked off by a few sheets, with a simple marker written sign that read ‘dressing room.’

“Oh,” Ian replied.

“I’ll go check on Judy. I’ll check on you in a minute.” Barley ran off before Ian could respond.

Hesitating at first for how he was just left there so quickly, Ian stepped into the dressing room. It was a simple corner of the tent, the floor was grass, the walls were tarp or fabric.  There was a scratched up wooden stool in one corner, and a full length mirror in the other.  Ian closed the curtain and hung the kilt over the mirror, followed by leaning his staff against it.  He kicked off his shoes, took off his jeans and placed them on the stool.  He then put on the kilt.  While it was made to look like it was wrapped around his waist and held up by a black leather belt, it slipped on like a skirt and had a zipper on the side.  He looked in the mirror, then just stared into it as he realized his red flannel shirt clashed furiously with the green plaid kilt.  Thankfully he was wearing a plain white tshirt underneath, so he took off his red shirt.

“You done in there?” Barley called out from the other side of the curtain.

Ian was checking the kilt out in the mirror.  It hung down to just under his knees, and it didn’t look half bad.  “Yeah.”

“Then let’s see it!” Barley said.

“Yeah!” Judy added.

Ian hesitantly slouched over.  After a moment, he peeked his head out from behind the curtain.  Still no one, and the cyclops wasn’t paying attention.  Ian pulled the curtain away, but didn’t dare to step out of the dressing room.

“You look great!” Judy exclaimed with a big smile.

Ian grinned nervously. “R-really?”

Barley looked sideways at the white stockings.  “Hold on.” Barley ran off, but was quickly back with a pair of knee high socks.  Ian took them and closed the curtain.  A minute later, he opened the curtain and glared at Barley.  “Really?”  Ian looked down at the thick white cotton socks.  Each sock had a small black tassel just below Ian’s knees, sewn to the hem.

Barley rolled his eyes. “They’re men’s socks, Ian.  And it’s either this or the stockings.”

“Shh!”  Ian quickly looked at the cyclops, but he didn’t move, hopefully that means he didn’t hear that.

“So are we getting it?” Judy asked.  “I got one too!” she added, happily holding up a pink princess play dress with ruffled rose colored sleeves.

Barley added, “I checked the price on both of them.  We can afford it.”

Ian exhaled as he thought about it.  “Okay.”

“Great!”  Barley pulled the price tag off the kilt.  “Put your shoes on.  You can wear that out of the store.”

“Outside??” Ian took a double take in a panic.

“Guys wear kilts, Ian,” Barley repeated himself.  “For Feldar’s sake, we walked by at least two guys wearing them today.”

Ian blinked, not remembering that he saw that.  “We did?”

“Yeah.”  Barley took Judy by the hand and they both went to the register to make their purchases.

While still unsure, that thought put his mind at ease.  He closed the curtain, took off the socks, picked up his shirt after hiding his stockings inside them, and put on his shoes.  He then met up with Barley and Judy just as they finished making their purchases.

Judy hugged Ian, clinging to his waist because of her short five year old height.  “Now Princess Kenna has a guard!”

“Huh?” Ian asked, confused.

Judy explained, “Princess Kenna comes from a kingdom where her guards wear those skirts.”

“They’re called kilts, Judy,” Barley quickly explained.

“Oh, right.  Kilts,” Judy corrected herself.

“And Princess Kenna likes boy stuff like dirt and archery.”  Barley turned and told both Judy, as well as Ian, “If girls can like boy stuff, boys can like girl stuff.”

“I like dirt.”  Judy smiled.

Barley patted Judy’s head, ruffling her brown hair.  “That’s my girl.”

Ian smiled at Barley as he tucked his shirt, and the hiding stockings, into the paper bag with Judy’s newly bought play dress.  Barley and Judy left the clothing tent, with Ian close behind them, as if trying to hide behind them.  With each step through the bazaar, Ian was growing more nervous.  But, with each step away from the bazaar, on their way to arts and crafts, Ian grew a little more collected.  It was a strange feeling, walking through the fairgrounds, feeling the air on his powder blue legs, but the thick fabric of the kilt constantly reminding him he’s basically in a skirt.  And yet barely anyone seemed to notice or care.  One or two people would look up at Ian, but then quickly look back down.  A voice in his head was claiming they were judging Ian, they may be even making fun of him when he’s not looking.  But, he knew better that they paid no mind to Ian.  To them, Ian was just another person who dressed up for the faire.

The arts and crafts section was pretty fun, though messy cause of all the kids playing with glue, glitter, construction paper and other messy items.  Judy didn’t mind getting dirty, which led to Barley having to clean her off with a wet wipe before they left the area.  Before they did, Judy made a few drawings, and even had a surprise for Ian and Barley.

“Kneel, good sirs,” Judy proclaimed, instantly playing make believe as Princess Kenna.

“I can only kneel so far in this thing,” Ian chuckled as he bent forward with his hands holding down his kilt, Barley kneeling like a noble knight.

Judy then placed a daisy crown on each of her big brother’s heads.  The crowns were made of paper and pipe cleaners, but they were flowers all right.

“Thank you, fair Kenna,” Barley played along as he rose to his feet, Ian chuckling as he rose to his. Ian adjusted his crown nervously, but not so awkward about it when Barley was wearing one, and Judy placing her own daisy crown on her head.

After listening to a few tales of yore from some story telling entertainers, the three decided to call it a night.  The brothers made it to the van before Judy got too tired to walk, thankfully, as her horse half was making the elftaur too big for even Barley to carry these days. Judy climbed into the back of Guinevere the Second and immediately fell asleep.  Ian and Barley climbed into the front, with Ian keeping his legs together in his new kilt.

Ian took off his daisy crown and ran his fingers through his fluffy hair.  “That was a fun day,” he commented as he tucked the crown into the paper bag in front of his feet.

“Same time next year?” Barley half joked as he backed the van out and drove out of the dirt parking lot.

“Oh yeah,” Ian replied, as the van made it onto the modern paved road, starting their journey back home. “I’ll even wear the kilt.”

“Cool,” Barley smiled. “Think you can wear the kilt outside of the Renn Faire?”

Ian shook his head.  “Oh, no,” he chuckled with a smile.

Barley gave Ian a smirk and a sideways glance before merging onto the expressway.  Today was a great day.

----

Author’s note: raise your hand if you figured out that Princess Kenna is their realm’s Princess Merida?

I wrote some Cablepool fics some months ago but proofreading is such a bitch, so they were incomplete for now. I’m just gonna post some parts of it and hopefully there are more Cablepool people who loves mpreg as I do.

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In summary, Mpreg theme uses pregnancy to describe how women and gender/sex minorities are impregnated with the unspeakable powers of patriarchy. Pregnancy is not just a biological phenomenon; it symbolizes embodied experiences, where women’s body is changed and exploited as it bear the burden of child labor. And by forcing such changes upon male body, it declares that any sex and gender that is seen less than a “man” can thus be a “woman”, and that whoever they are their struggles and pains are similar to that of women’s in this world.

In mpreg fics, there’ll be tears, fight, divorce, and broken hearts. It’s fan-favorite melodrama. It’s barnyard humor. It’s self-service to the writer’s own kink.

It is all of these. Or, it’s none of these.

-

They put all kinds of wires to link Wade with medical equipments. X-rays him, scans him, takes some blood from him. They declares that what’s inside Wade is not a parasite. Not another tumor nor a clog. It is, as the tag suggests, a fetus.

Some other X-students gathers as soon as the word is out: the Deadly mouthy ‘pool’s pregnant. The next session, Wade is unhappy with the amount of audience in the supposed waiting room, looking expectedly at him. From hindsight, it’s better they were there at the time, to spare Wade the horrors of explanation.

Unplanned male pregnancy should have been a comic relief since it’s Deadpool. But when the results indicate that it belongs to a certain Nathan Summers, who recently died, it is no longer a joke.

Cyclops, as his role in any other Cablepool fics, has to be the last one to know it. He learns of the identity of his future grandchild and immediately decides to rushe back to the mansion to confront whatever nightmare awaits him. He briefly talks to Hank, in order to prepare himself before talking to Wade. Eventually, a consultation team that comprises of Cyclops and Beast visits Wade’s at his apartment, who just comes back with discounted pregnancy tests from CVS.

“We must talk about your condition, Wade.” Scott says solemnly.

“Sorry, Grandpaclops, will remember to use protection next time. Guess I should never underestimate dicks from the future.”

Scott clenches his teeth. His expression is hidden under his ruby optics, but Wade can see the tiny creases around his mouth, and he gets the feeling that Scott is anxious. Ans so, so very tired. Hank clears his throat and starts talking about his discoveries. Half of his talk is explaining his daring theory of why life form can be conceived inside a male’s body, which Wade doesn’t listen to. The other half is some warmings on what a pregnant man should not do. Given Wade’s profession and personality, Hank makes 100% sure that Wade listens to him. Scott seems to be holding breath as the other mutant talks with a professional calmness.

The talk ends with “We still don’t know exactly how it happened, but It’s going to be a big responsibility—your responsibility.”

Scott tries again. He keeps his voice strategically even, a little raspy than usual, as if he practiced this conversation in front of a mirror too many times.

“It’s yours, as much as it’s Nathan’s. It’s up to you to ... keep it.”

“Or you can move into the X-mansion—”Hank stops promptly when Wade starts laughing.

“So your guys are what, showing parental support for the guy your son never actually married, and you never even doubt it’s a parasite?”

“We ruled out that possibility.” Hank says, “you know, you don’t have to do this.” He pauses briefly, making sure every sentence is carefully worded. “After what happened, you—in fact, nobody should do this alone. It’s unfair that you have to deal with it on your own.”

Great, now they think of Wade as some mourning ex-lover of Nate’s. He has to find something witty to say, or he’ll just embarrasses himself in front of these two good-intentioned, somewhat guilty-looking X-men. There’s a sorry somewhere that he can reads directly from the thin air, sorry we are so sorry for pushing you away, we are sorry we didn’t accept you—and ignored your feelings— now we are here to make it up for you. No, this ain’t right. They don’t know about him and Nate. All they see is this, which makes them assume all kinds of things about them, about Wade, that Wade doesn’t even want to think about.

He decides to take advantage of their out-of-no-where-guilt because it is better than pity, “OK, wait, is this the part where we hug and cry on each other’s shoulders? I have a feeling there’s always a but. Besides, Hank, you just violated the confidentiality agreement without my consent!”

“I’m truly sorry, it’s an unprecedented situation.” Hank tries not to look shameful. “And, no, no buts. All we’re offering is a place to rest before the, that is, if you want to keep it, It’s very important when it comes to—“

“Nathan’s spawn.” Wade helps him finish the sentence. “That’s why you X-men fucking care. “

Cyclops doesn’t say a word, but he thinks so loud, he is practically radiating sadness and anger, and worst of all, the anger is not even directed at Wade.

Wade snaps.

“Tell you what, I’m gonna fucking keep this little shit till it’s got eyes and fingers and then I’ll fucking abort it! I’ll put it in a filthy jar and sell it to Mister Sinister, and it will be none of your fucking business!”

—

Of course Wade didn’t abort it. And he did move into the X-mansion.

Everyone seems worried. After all, X-men are worried all the time—but they also look slightly relieved. If Wade ignores the eyes they are giving him, the whispers they exchange when they think he is not looking, he almost feels nothing has changed at all.

The big question, after the several years after Nate died, still hangs in the air. Every time someone looks at Wade, there’s a why in their eyes. A mutant like Nate, who is supposed to be a man of proper taste and good integrity, the reasons that he chose to be with Wade is unthinkable.

Any sane human would tell Nate what he did is ridiculous. Like the voice in the back of Wade’s mind. It tells Wade all the time that he cannot possibly believe that him and Nate could last any longer—or long enough to have any consequences.

Being pregnant is not the consequences. It’s the last one of the bad decisions he’s made after all the other ones. He knows the voice is right, and his life sucks mostly because he doesn’t listen to it. This time, he feels a certain remorse satisfaction in disobeying the remaining sense of reason in his head.

Keeping the baby to prove a point is as desperate as it’s poorly intended.

He knows how fucked-up this is.

—

In hindsight, it’s fucking creepy that Wade, Copycat, and Domino all slept with Nate.

Here she is, gonna pop open that can of worms.

Domino has to come to him at his most inconvenience. She knocks three times on the door, each time more curt and determined. She will probably shoot a hole in the wall to make a new door if he doesn’t let her in.

Wade opens the door, grimaces at the way she look at him and meet his eyes. He is a good few inches taller than Dom, but he never feels big in front of her.

She brings in an air of feline elegance and the fresh scent of hair shampoo. It’s endearing for her to allow people to see her like this, yet not entirely unguarded. He catches the innuendo of a more secret, private conversation.

Her eyes touch him lightly, hair flares with the effortless chic style many would be jealous of. There are a hundred things Wade lacks that she owns.

The night is getting dark and the wind is getting wild, he probably should close the window before the storm.

Dom is less of a coward than him, who could barely come up to people and tell them the truth. That he got himself into this long before he understood the true meaning of having someone and then losing them.

She is pretty and deadly as always, not jadded by battles and gunfire. She looks at him with a sadness of someone who think they have the pieces of a puzzle that Wade misses. Or at least they think they know.

“Why do you keep him, the baby—.” She leans against the wall, arms crossed. “He’s not going to be Nate. Nate is not here anymore.“

“Wow, wow, lady, now you’re just projecting too hard.”

“Wade, look. It took me a hell lot of drinking to accept that he’s really gone this time.” She keeps her voice steady and manages to be soft at the same time. “I hear you talk to him like, I don’t know. I don’t think I’m not projecting.”

“Just so you know, I talk to my tummy all the time. Totally healthy habit. Been like this since I’m in my mom’s womb.”

“You’ve been talking to him and you sounded like—never mind.” Now she is just being weird. Wade feels offended that someone dare to outweird him without his royal permission. “The baby—you are drowning him with things he’s not part of.”

“Drowning would be a damn boring way to die.” He comments. “In fact, I’m whispering murder thoughts to him so he can grow up into a killing machine. A cyborg one. Just like his dad.”

“Wade, I’m not trying to take anything from you.”

“Oh sure, you’re here to remind me to invite you for the baby shower, which I am seriously going to reconsider with the guest list.”

A strip of dark hair falls on her cheek as she hesitates.

“You know why I’m here.”

Honestly, Wade’s fed up with this. He didn’t respond, instead, he peels off his mask, challenges her to look directly into his eyes.

She looks flustered, but her thin shoulders are as still as granite. This close, Wade can see how her breast heaves under her loosely-fit shirt. It fucking hurts when he rips through her facade and finds something a lot like the reflection of his own pains. They both had Nate in the past, and now that Nate is the past, they are weirdly equal. They had different Nates, but Wade wants all the Nates.

The voice in his head is so loud that he can barely think his own thoughts. Is that why he came to her after Wade left Providence, for her is smart enough to ask for only what she deserves?

Does she come here to pity Wade, or is she seeking compassion from Wade? He feels an old, dull bitterness creeping up his spine.

Domino backs off a little, “I never liked you.” She says. They both know it, so it’s not really a confess. Something is blown in to the window, making a cracking sound. Both of them shiver. “I couldn’t believe it was you, of all people. “Oh, so she did care. She was not as nonchalant as she pretends to be. “But now you are-you are not just yourself-I don’t want to fight you anymore.”

It stings.

“Does that mean I can finally make your face my new bathroom tiles? Because I love baby poo on black and white.” He quirks a smile. “Oh, And by the way, I reject your nanny application. Bring your broom next time.”

“You hate me for a dead man.” She says dryly, “what does that make you...”

Her voice hitches.

“What does that make us. If we are still loyal to him.”

The wind is loud, and others must be awakened by the noises by now. If wind could talk, it must be full of broken sentences, murmuring and fleeing from the untrimmed trees, circulating in the flying dirt and the waving foliage. Some sleepless mutant girls on the second floor mutters in an annoyed voice.

Dom reaches out to him. Her arms are pale but firm. They are suddenly within the distance of a kiss. He feels his cracked lips nearly brushes hers like a breath.

She jumps back, hitting the nearest surface to her face. The window panes creak from the shockwave, sending the whole room whirls. For a moment they were close enough to dig out each other’s heart. The framed painting falls to the ground in broken pieces behind them. It is relatively intact until Neena steps on it.

“A hard loser, aren’t you.” Wade breathes.

Neena just smiles.

“It’s just you who can’t let go.”

She stubbles on the cracked frame before storming into the bathroom. Wade hears the hot water pours out of the faucet and makes maps of mist on the hanging mirror. Her reflection from the mirror shifts, and from Wade’s angle, he can see her tears.

A small sob sound leaks out of her beautiful mouth. Wade feels envious yet again. He doesn’t understand why it changes how Dom sees him, as if sharing pain with him would be some comfort for both of them. But it doesn’t, he wants to scream, and it shouldn’t. He hears other mutant kids are giggling through the wind, and he is so, so envious of them.

Before he closes his eyes, he feels a light patting on his shoulders, and then all the light runs out with the slapping of the door.

He knows this is fucked-up.

“Nate,“ he murmurs, “If you don’t plan yo come back, I don’t think I can survive this—your too-young-too-be-dad dad, your ex-girlfriend, and your very possessive and angry daughter who refuses to meet me yet—I now understand why you want to elope with me into the future. I’ll forgive you for never asking me to actually run with you, but I know you always wanted to.“

“It’s fucking worse when people try to care. They don’t know you. They don’t know how fucked up you are. All they want is to keep a memoir, and I’m their freaking memoir. What did we have, sweetheart, did we ever agree on anything, huh? Did you even think about what it would be like for us to be together long enough to have consequences?”

“You see, Nate, I’m the one living with the consequences now. Except that you’re not here.”

Oblitus Chapter 14

Are You Ready!

Alastor, Angel and Anna walked through the door to Alastor's room and were now in the hallway of the hotel. They headed towards the elevator riding it down. As the elevator dinged, making it to the lobby the doors opened revealing Charlie and Vaggie. Their eyes widen in surprise

"Whoa, what happened to you guys?" The princess asked as the three stepped out of the elevator.

 "We...had a little fight." Alastor explained. "It was certainly entertaining too!" Vaggie narrowed her eyes glaring at him.

"Well, you're little fight is tracking mud all over the floor!" She growled, irritated. 

Seeing a quick blur darting past, Anna turned her head to see Niffty mopping and sweeping up the mud tracks that she and Alastor had left. She cringed feeling bad for having the little cyclops clean the mess up. Anna turned her head back when she heard Charlie spoke.

 "Get cleaned up." She said. "Already done, my charming demon belle!" Alastor snapped his fingers and he and Anna were completely spotless and clean.

"You'll never believe who's here!" Charlie continued. Anna could see that the princess was more fidgety and nervous than usual. 

"Who's here?" Angel questioned.

"My dad." Charlie answered. 

"What?!" Alastor stood frozen in place with a grin on his face while Anna and Angel stared at the princess in surprise. Charlie nodded her head.

"I guess he finally got my messages."

"Charlie, if you don't mind me asking, who is your dad? Should I be scared?" Anna asked, nervously.

"Well, he is called by many names. He goes by Lucifer. But, there is one that you humans are familiar with,...Satan." The princess answered. Just as Charlie finished, Anna's eyes widen in horror as she stepped away. She felt sick to her stomach.

"You mean HIM?! You are the daughter of Satan!?" She cried. Charlie cringed. "You didn't let me finish. Yes, he is the devil. But, he and Satan are completely different people down here." Anna frowned. Charlie continued as she explained.

"He is one of the seven ring leaders of Hell and also the king. This is the only way. If he can find out a way to get you back to the living world, he can." The princess answered. But, Anna didn't hear her as she continued rambling on as she had a nervous breakdown. 

"There is no way I'm talking or saying anything to him! There has to be another way!"

Angel placed a hand the woman's shoulder. "Doll face, I know that you want to go home. But, now's not a great time to be a speciest." Angel replied. Anna sighed. What else could she do? There wasn't a lot of options to go with. If this was the only way, then so be it.

 "Fine." She said. "I'll listen to what he has to say."

 "He's in the management office." Charlie said as she and Anna walked away. "I'll show you the way."

 "I'm going to go check on Nuggsy." Angel said, heading towards his room. "Poor baby's probably missing me."

 Alastor turned his head towards the bar seeing Husk making a drink. He could use one. Alastor walked over as Husk bent to grab his phone to take a picture of his masterpiece. Once he stood up, he noticed that it was gone. Then he saw Alastor, sitting in front of him, drinking it. 

"You bastard! You ruined it!" Husk shouted, angrily.

"You shouldn't have left it unattended." the radio demon said as he finished his drink, slamming the glass on the counter. "How was I supposed to know?" Alastor responded with a big grin shrugging his hands.

"You fucking knew!" the cat demon snapped back, growling. "You do this every freaking time! And why are you up? You should be lying down."

"Oh Husker, I'm shocked that you would say that. You really do care!" Alastor replied with a smug grin, rubbing his cheek against the cat's. Husk shoved him away.

"Get off me!" Husk shouted as he pushed him. The cat demon grabbed a bottle of liquor and starting chugging it down. "Geez, you're more annoying than usual! What's gotten you so gay?"

"The dame's quite the entertaining little thing, especially her fiery temper."

"You mean the dumb dora?" The cat demon questioned. 

"The very same." Alastor said. Husk laughed.

"I don't believe this! She's turning you into a sap!" he continued. "If everyone could see this you'd be the laughing stock in Hell!" 

Slam! Husk jumped as Alastor slammed his hands on the counter. Radio static was heard as it echoed in the room throughout the hallways. A dark shadow towered over Husk as Alastor looked down at him with a scary grin on his face.

"I'd be careful with what you'd say next, Husk." Alastor said. "It may be the last thing that you'll ever say."

Charlie and Anna were now standing in front of the door to the management office. The princess turned to her "Okay, once you meet my dad. Be careful with what you say." 

"Why?" Anna questioned.

"He has an explosive temper." Charlie answered.

"This is not making me feel any better." Anna replied. She saw Charlie playing with her hands, nervously. "Why are you nervous about your dad?" 

"Let's just say that we have different views and opinions."

Charlie opened the door  and she and Anna walked into the room. Anna immediately froze as she saw a man, looking like the the man in the family portrait, sitting in a chair with his feet resting on the desk, Lucifer. He saw the two walk in and he stood up walking over to them. Anna's eyes widen in surprise seeing how short he was. She snorted and quickly covered her mouth trying not to laugh. He only came up to Charlie's shoulders. He was definitely not what she had expected. For some reason he reminded her of a twisted version of Willy Wonka, which only made it harder not to laugh.

"Charlotte,-" 

"Charlie, dad." Charlie corrected him. She gestured her hand to Anna. "This is Anna. The human I've been calling you about." Lucifer turned his attention towards Anna with a strange grin on his face, looking her up and down.

"I see, so this is the human pet." 

"She is not a pet, dad. Now that you've been introduced. Let's talk about how-" Lucifer interrupted. "Yeah, that's nice darling. Now run along. The human and I need to talk alone." He finished as he shoved Charlie out of the room, slamming the door behind her, locking it, before she could say anything else. Anna stared in silence, nervously, looking at the being in front of her. He turned to her with a dark grin on his face, walking slowly towards her.

"So, who sent you?" He asked. "Was it HIM?" Anna backed up only to back up into the desk behind her. She looked at him with a confused look.

"What?" She questioned. "I don't know what you're talking about. Nobody sent me."

"Turn around and pull up your shirt."

"Pull up my shirt? I'm not going to do-" Anna was whipped around, forcibly, as she felt her shirt being lifted up over her head. "Wha-Hey! Stop! What are you doing?!" Anna felt hands roam all over her back as Lucifer scanned it to find that there were no wings hidden. His eyes trailed down lower towards her butt, seeing Anna's tail began to wag side to side. Lucifer chuckled.

He sighed and released Anna letting go of her shirt. "Okay, so he didn't sent you." He walked to the desk and took a seat in the chair while Anna fixed her shirt, pulling it back down.

"What was THAT all about?!" She exclaimed, angrily.

Lucifer made a mischievous grin. "I had to make sure that you weren't a spy from the big guy." He said resting his elbows on the desk with his hands clasped together. "But, all checks out. What's more interesting is why you're here, especially looking like that. You're still alive."

 "Well, thanks for pointing that out." Anna replied, sarcastically, glaring at him. She wanted to slap that smug grin off from his face. She felt violated. "Look, if you know of a way, any way for me to leave this place. Please, tell me. I just want to leave." She finished. Lucifer hummed as his grin began grow to larger. His eyes peaked with interest.

"Now, why would I do that?" He asked pointing his finger at Anna.

"You have to-!" Anna cried. Lucifer let out a dark chuckle.

"I don't have to do anything."

"Please..." Lucifer stared silently at her. This human was very persuasive.

"There is a way..." Lucifer replied. "I have a book that will be able to open a portal to the living world. However, it's gone missing."

"Missing?" Anna questioned.

"Somebody has stolen it from me. It is a dark blue book with thick leather casing, with some latin inscribed on the cover. If it can be found, then that is your way back." The king explained. 

"Then that's what I'll do. I'll find the book and bring it back. Then you will be able to send me back?" Anna asked. Lucifer made a twisted smirk holding up his hand, stopping her.

"I will do it. BUT! There is one thing you must do for me in return..." He replied. His grin growing more sinister.

 "And what is that?" Anna questioned, not liking where this was going. There was a long dead silence until the king spoke.

"Make sure my daughter's hotel plan does not succeed."

Anna's eyes widen.  "What?! why would you want me to do that?!"

"She's your daughter! Don't you want her to able make demons redeem themselves? Don't you care about your people?"

"I can care less what happens to them." Lucifer replied.

"Everyone deserves a second chance!" Anna exclaimed in disbelief. She saw Lucifer narrow his eyes nearly into slits as he glared furiously at her.

"Then I will not help you." Lucifer replied. "Apparently, this has been a waste of time for the both of us." He began to walk away heading towards the door and was about to open it when Anna spoke.

"Some father you are..." She murmured under her breath, angrily. "Do you even love her."

As she looked up, Anna nearly jumped out of her skin to find yellow slits staring right back into to hers, enraged. She stared back, shaking. 

"DO NOT TEST ME HUMAN!" Lucifer roared. "If my daughter wasn't here, you would be dead where you stand. Do not meddle in things that isn't any of your business!" The door slammed hard as Anna stared with wide eyes wondering what just happened.

Tales from Mount Othrys

Alabaster: The Delicate Dance of Chance II

 Author’s note: Are you ready for fluff??? ALL THE FLUFF?! And some angst—BUT MOSTLY FLUFF!?

              Alabaster didn’t remember much about getting off the stage. He did remember shaking so violently that he feared missing a step on the side stairs. When the crowd swarmed them, he was vaguely aware of Pax warding them off and navigating them through the mass of people.

           Axel made some announcement about taking a girl for the first dance and snatched the hand of Charlie—their five year old mascot—who giggled with glee. This caused an uproar—both that Axel was dancing and that he’d picked Charlie as his first partner. Alabaster could practically hear Lucille’s future squeals about how cute it was.

           But, that’s all he could recollect. There was a blank spot, where Alabaster must have shut down from the humiliation and horror of being on stage without any warning. Coherence came when Pax shoved Alabaster to the punch table.

           With a few comments that Alabaster didn’t hear, Pax diverted the remaining admirers. Several monsters and campers were still glancing their way, and a few of his siblings waved at him enthusiastically. But, this was manageable. This was distant.

           Pax shoved a plastic cup of punch into Alabaster’s trembling hand. His touch lingered over Alabaster’s fingers for a moment, likely noticing the quiver. Pax went on his tiptoes to whisper in Alabaster’s ear, as quiet as he could while still being heard over the music. “Your Mist show was amazing.”

           Alabaster jerked back.

           He wanted to hit Pax. Though, he knew it was misdirected anger. Who he should be hitting was Matthias or Jack, who likely planned the grand entrance on stage. Or—

           The music increased in volume, encouraging shouts of delirium. Monsters and campers tangled on the dance floor. Alabaster had never been to a school dance, but this looked like the nightmare version of what he assumed one would be. They were in a gymnasium with a stage on one end. Tables were scattered along the walls for food, drink and loitering. The back had interactive games, like Pin the Sword in the Demigod: Camp Half-Blood Edition. The center was reserved for dancing.

           And, in the middle of that dance floor was Axel Pax, bowing to a thrilled, giggling five-year-old. He handed Charlie off to Chris (likely with strict instructions to escort her off the dance floor, least she be crushed by mingling Cyclopes). Then he turned a smile to Lucille. With the smooth demeanor of a vampiric count, he transferred into the next dance. No one was going to say no to the attractive, typically reserved, stoic and heroic character.

           The reserved, stoic and heroic character that caused that nonsense on stage. While Alabaster wouldn’t have been up there if it wasn’t for Jack or Matthias, Axel had forced him into panicked improvisation and showmanship.

           “I must disgrace Axel Pax,” he growled.

           Pax startled. Over the edge of his plastic cup, he said, “I’m not sure what maniacal soliloquy you had internally, but the rest of the audience is still confused.”

           Alabaster snorted. “I’m going to punish your brother. Maybe I can tell Lucille to spread the word that he’s looking for a male partner.”

           Pax laughed. He set his cup back on the table and drummed his fingers beside it. “Oh, dancing with boys won’t bother him.”

           Axel paused twirling Lucille in front of her girlfriend, Echidna. Echidna wasn’t the daughter of Summanus’ (the god of nocturnal thunder’s) real name, but Pax’s nickname caught because of her prickly personality. Despite this, when Axel offered, and Lucille shoved Echidna towards him, she begrudgingly accepted the dance. She shot a quick glance at Charlie. This was incredible progress—she couldn’t get within ten feet of men a year ago or be separated from Charlie for more than a few seconds.

           Alabaster tore his eyes from Axel and examined Pax skeptically. From what he’d seen, Axel had all the traits, and the cultural background, to be homophobic.

           The thirteen-year-old shrugged. “This isn’t exactly a no dancing with people wearing the same underwear kinda place.”

           A preliminary glance around proved there were girls dancing with girls and boys dancing with boys. It was with such commonality that the gesture seemed to mean nothing about their inclination. Alabaster wasn’t sure how that worked here, since that would have been a social taboo in his Cotillion classes.

           Pax’s smile became distant and sad as he watched Axel save Echinda from tripping all over herself. Pax leaned against the drink table. “Besides, between the circus and our sister, he had to learn not to care. She was a crossdresser and made sure we were comfortable with all sorts of people.”

           Opening up twice in one night, Alabaster mused. They hardly spoke of their siblings, other than that Pax missed them. Their near death experience must have made Pax feel more relaxed around Alabaster. The younger boy seemed to have something on his mind recently. Alabaster often caught Pax zoning out in the laboratory, staring at Alabaster’s sleeve or spell book. Alabaster had wondered if it was for a prank.

           The smile on Pax’s lips quirked into a smirk. His eyes focused back on the present. “Axel doesn’t favor dancing with boys though, unlike me,” he said, giving Alabaster a wink.

           Alabaster snorted. “Stop messing around.”

           Pax looked away and popped his cheeks. He straightened his posture, released the table, and turned towards Alabaster. “I want to have fun at this party. Your whole vengeance on my brother for ambiguous reasons—”

           “Humiliating me—”

           “--that’s villainy and great and stuff, but I don’t want you on it all night. You’ve got his weakest link right here.” Pax pointed both his thumbs at himself. “But I’m not going to help you brainstorm ideas unless you really try to have fun tonight. Now let’s go stuff our faces with Nachos and show Morpheus how to really dance.”

           Alabaster stared at him. “We have two different definitions of ‘fun.’ The most probable outcome to incur enjoyment is seeking vengeance.”

           Pax pouted. He glanced down the refreshments table. “You’re my babysitter. I going to make a  bee line to the first nut-based desert I see and shove it into my mouth if we don’t go play on Matthias’ Wii , and it’ll be your fault.”

           “I won’t save you from anaphylactic shock if you do that,” Alabaster said. He frowned. Pax would be integral to bringing Axel down. And they were stuck here for at least another hour-and-a-half.

           “What’s the best game on Matthias’ Wii ?” Alabaster asked.

             ***

             Alabaster wanted to complain about Mario Party’s reliance on a random number generator and how it devalued the skill level of the player, but that would require him to admit he relied on that random number generator to win. When playing against actual gamers like Matthias and Chris, he knew there would be little hope in him winning in something like Super Smash or Tekken.

           Out of the games they played, his favorite was poker. All magic was legal. He won Pax ten Reese’s Sticks before Prometheus came over and threatened his reigning championship. Alabaster’s “pallor tricks” didn’t seem to work as well on the Titan and Prometheus’s bluffing skills were godly. Well, titanly.

           Pax decided Prometheus’s impending win meant he needed to eat all of his candy at once, something Alabaster suspected he’d regret in about ten minutes.

           Once the Cyclops bouncer wrestled the last six Reese’s Sticks from Pax, he hopped to Alabaster’s side. His brown and hazel eyes twinkled while he rubbed the chocolate and peanut butter off his chin.

           Alabaster didn’t realize he’d been smirking with each his wins. Between Pax’s excitement and cheering and Alabaster’s strategizing, he’d forgotten where they were.

           Pax snagged Alabaster’s sleeve. “Come on!” he cried before Prometheus could gloat. The tuxedo-wearing Titan spread his long, thin fingers over the cards as Pax dragged Alabaster away from the table.

           Once they stumbled from the game sector, Pax stopped short. He gave Alabaster a huge grin, pulling up his shirt to reveal two Reese’s Sticks hidden along his beltline.

           Alabaster snorted. “I’m surprised you didn’t steal more.”

           Pax winked and dropped his shirt. “We could go back for round two later. For now…” He took a few steps further onto the dance floor, tugging Alabaster’s sleeve again.

           Alabaster’s tranquility shattered. He stared at Pax, listening to the thud of the subwoofer and watching the mass of bodies moving behind the Belizean boy.

           Alabaster hadn’t realized it, and he would never admit to it, but he’d been having fun. At the thought of merging into that flowing blob of people, monsters, sweat, and social anxiety, fun evaporated. Cold sweat formed on his brow.

           “No,” he said, yanking his arm back from Pax.

           The younger boy’s pout returned. “I’m going to make you a shirt that says that.”[1]

           They stood there, others swirling around them. Someone bumped their shoulders while running by, shouting, “Don’t be lame and have no shame! Warlock, creep out of your lair, dance, and have fun!”

           His face went hot with humiliation. When Alabaster raised his wrist to check the time, he found his fist clenched. An hour had passed while they were playing games. Had the passerbyer’s mockery not bothered him so much, he might have marveled over how fast the first hour went. He assumed it would be agonizing.

  ��        But, he could tell the next hour would be much worse. He thought about his laboratory and how much he could get done while everyone else was out. After the Roman attack, everyone should have been working to move and restore the building, not throwing a party “in their honor.”

           “This is just a thinly veiled excuse for everyone to feel good about acting like idiots,” Alabaster said. “And a waste of time.”

           Alabaster couldn’t remember how Pax got him to play along with this stupid party. Then, it came back: Axel forcing him into showmanship. The humiliation turned to anger. He didn’t need the younger Pax brother to concoct something against Axel. “I’m heading back to camp,” Alabaster said.

           He turned to leave. Pax frantically grabbed his arm. “Wait!” Pax shouted. “Wait—we were having—you’re my babysitter!  I’ll choke on tree nuts and get kidnapped by bad guys if you’re not around!”

           Considering Pax’s ward, Jack, was a schizophrenic with a history of attacking his family, Alabaster thought his concept of “bad guys” was a bit skewed.

           Alabaster scowled. “Ajax, you’re thirteen. You’re too old for a babysitter. Grow up.”  

           Pax’s eyes widened. The rims reddened. He blinked rapidly and looked away. “We don’t have to dance,” he whispered.

           Alabaster yanked his arm back again. “This isn’t dancing. This isn’t music. This is a group of unskilled buskers following a formula to produce ‘musical’ garbage because people don’t know how to express their hormones without it.”

           Shock wove their mouths shut.

           Musical garbage.

           Someone else had said that around Alabaster. He remembered sitting in the back of the family’s Mercedes Bends, visiting his father in the hospital.  The chauffer cheerfully turned on music for them. His grandfather fired the chauffer, saying what Alabaster had said: that this type of music was a cheap replica of what real musicians could create.

           Just like his grandfather thought Alabaster’s magic was a cheap replica of science that couldn’t save his father.

           Alabaster couldn’t believe he’d quoted that horrible man verbatim.

           At the “buskers” comment, Pax flinched. Although they’d never told Alabaster directly, Alabaster had guessed that Axel and Pax busked, or illegally street preformed, to get by before Camp Othrys. And Alabaster just used it as an insult.

           “Ajax,” Alabaster unfroze his tongue, “I’m sorr—”

           Pax turned and bolted into the mass of dancers, towards the stage. A couple nearby exchanged a confused glance at his passing and looked over at Alabaster.

           “Ajax!” Alabaster called. Although every cell in his nervous system wanted to reel backwards, he shoved past the couple to go after his friend.

           After taking ten steps forward, Alabaster realized that finding Pax would be impossible. There were too many people, too much movement, and Pax was too small and conniving. Considering how many monsters and demigods were over six feet tall, the five-foot-nothing demigod could vanish.

           This was irrational. Alabaster shouldn’t worry. Pax was in a safe environment, surrounded by friends, and didn’t actually need a babysitter. They would meet back up later, after both of them had time to let off some steam, and Alabaster could explain that he didn’t mean what he said and that Alabaster had only said those words because he… because he…

           Is so incompetent at relaxing, I couldn’t rationally explain my anxiety before snapping.

           Alabaster didn’t want to wait to check up on Pax. He despised the thought of making someone feel the way his grandfather used to make him feel. Worse for Pax: what if his and Axel’s father didn’t approve of their street performance? Alabaster didn’t know what nerves he’d struck, and not knowing meant he couldn’t mentally prepare for what damage he’d done.

           There were too many people, too close. The music had grown louder as Alabaster made his way towards the stage. The subwoofer rattled him internally. Alabaster felt clammy. With all the laughter and joy whirling around him, he felt isolated and sick. Especially with the stares of confusion at his rushed passing.

           A sense of hopelessness threatened to overwhelm him when the music quieted.

           With the weirdest transition he’d ever heard, the thud of electronic wound down, like the music itself was dying. The DJ, a dark-haired Titaness wearing a modernized toga-dress, cleared her throat in the echo of the mic. The Eldest muse—Mnemosyne’s voice was silky. “Ladies and Gentlemen, Monsters and Ghouls, we have our first good request of the night!”

           Pax withdrew from the raised DJ booth and hopped back to the floor, only three yards away.

           After the chime of bells, the calming sound of a stringed orchestra flooded the speakers, soon accompanied by a wind instrument—probably a flute.  

           Several demigods groaned. One or two whined. Alabaster was horrified at what Pax had done to the rest of the party’s occupants and whether or not Mnemosyne had been mocking him.

           Then, all the monsters cheered.

           “I love the oldies!” Dr. Thorn, their local manticore, exclaimed. He ejected two spikes into the air in celebration, grabbed a Scythian dracaena, and began the elegant twirl of the waltz. Alabaster didn’t want to know where those spikes would land.[2]

           Alabaster would hardly call Tchaikovsky an “oldie” but he marveled that these monsters were eternal and their concept of time differed from their own.

           While several half-bloods exited the dance floor, a flood of monsters entered. Jack dragged a rather inebriated-looking Luke out to spin with him. Chris and Matthias hopped by, paused, grabbed hold of each other with mock-serious expresses on their faces, and began a goofy, sloppy shamble.[3] Prometheus ruffled Pax’s hair and said, “Good choice,” before bowing to Mnemosyne.

           Their DJ grinned, set her headphones to the side of the sound table, and hopped down from the booth.

            In an empty space of floor, Lucille giggled. She kicked off her high heels, hopped up to her toes, and began to dance point, her flowy skirt mimicking the motions of a ballerina’s tutu.

           Near the food tables, where most of the confused demigods had gone to stand, Axel bowed to Mercedes, offering their Spymaster his hand. Mercedes tucked her embroidered hijab tighter against her chin. She gave Axel a coy smile and flicked him off with her other hand.

           Axel must have just finished dancing with Lou Ellen. She stood beside Mercedes, still bright red in the face from the dance. Alabaster was already annoyed with the inevitable week of Lou Ellen’s squealing. She glanced at Mercedes, glared at the older girl—from jealousy or aghast at Mercedes’ refusal, Alabaster couldn’t care to tell—and shoved her forward, hard.

           Mercedes stumbled forward into Axel’s arms, adding a second forced dance to Axel’s count for the night.

           With all the commotion around them, Alabaster approached Pax. He paused a foot away from him. “Why’d you pick this song?” he asked.

           Pax rubbed his face against his forearm, sniffling back the last of his choked tears. “You—you play it a lot when you think other people aren’t around.”

           Alabaster unclenched his fist. “It was my grandmother’s favorite scene from Swan Lake.” One of his favorite memories: when she was alive, she would hum along as she stained glass in the piano room. His grandfather hated that she used the room like that, but she claimed it had the best lighting.

           “If you were going to leave, I wanted to make sure you at least liked the last song playing before you left,” Pax said. He looked away, hugging himself.

           All the tension eased out of Alabaster. He sighed and wasn’t sure if he was more relieved that Pax had stopped crying or annoyed that Pax had beat him—Alabaster couldn’t leave with such a considerate act.

           “How many people know how to waltz here, you think? That aren’t monsters, I mean. It might be hard to find a partner,” Alabaster said.

           Pax took a step closer. He puffed up his cheeks, popped them, then quietly said, “I know how to waltz.” He offered a trembling hand out, palm down in the female partner position, to Alabaster.

           Alabaster stared. Slowly, he glanced to where Jack and Luke were dancing and Chris and Matthias were… he refused to call that a dance, but awkwardly shambling. It wouldn’t be too weird, right? Everyone knew Luke was a ladies’ man, and Jack and Flynn were a “thing,” and Chris and Matthias were just joking…

            And Lucille, after all, was doing a ballet pas seul with a cheering circle around her like she was break dancing.

           Alabaster exhaled and took Pax’s hand. He slipped his other hand under Pax’s arm, and positioned it on Pax’s shoulder blade. Pax violently shook as he lowered his free arm atop Alabaster’s. Pax was the perfect height for this, being a foot shorter than Alabaster.

           That busker comment must have stung Pax worse than Alabaster thought. To have him shaking like this? He frowned, taking a slow step forward with his left foot. He expected Pax to stumble and mix up his footing. Instead, Pax flawlessly stepped back with his right foot.

           They started with a basic box step. He wasn’t sure how much Pax would remember from his Cotillion classes or how easily Pax would be able to reverse the footwork to follow instead of lead. When Alabaster added in a rotation to their box step, and then lifted his elbow and their hands to properly shape their posture, Pax continued perfectly. When Alabaster began to go up on his toes for the “2 and 3” count of the waltz, then down onto his heels for the “1,” to give the rise and fall effect of the dance, Pax mirrored the footwork. By the time Alabaster added in the swing and sway to make the dance have a rolling effect—raising his rib cage when they went to the side, or tilting his body when they went forward or back—his curiosity had peaked.

           “You know how to follow really well,” Alabaster observed.

           The fluid and repetitive movement of the dance calmed Alabaster. This was a familiar environment. The only unusual part was dancing with a boy. Though… he supposed he’d danced with his male instructor when he was learning.

           Pax had stopped shaking. Now that they were in a rhythm, Alabaster could glance down to see if Pax still had tears in his eyes.

           The younger boy was staring at Alabaster’s collar—the only part of posture he wasn’t doing correctly. His cheeks were flushed with the movement and, likely, his prior tantrum. A little grin touched his lips at Alabaster’s comment. “Thanks. You’re really good at leading.”            Alabaster raised an eyebrow at him. He’d been expecting some stupid, witty retort.

           Pax glanced up. His blush deepened and his eyes shot back down to Alabaster’s collar. “Oh! Um—Lapis and I—my sister—we used to switch places on our Cotillion teacher. Axel, Hiro, and Kouta would play along, altering our names and pronouns to fit according to the day. The instructor never knew if which one of us was a guy or a girl, and she was too scared of getting in trouble for mixing it up to ask Dad. As long as we learned both parts, she didn’t care.”

           That sounded exactly like something the Pax brothers would do.

           Examining Pax’s facial structure, Alabaster could see how the instructor could mistake Pax for a girl. He had all the features to make a convincing crossdresser: with Pax’s wild, raven hair spilling all over his shoulders, his rounded face, button nose, wide eyes, squishy cheeks, and full lips. He was a little too muscular to pass for the average woman, but Alabaster had seen some ripped female demigods and wouldn’t be shocked if Pax’s sister—Lapis?—were similar.

           With the baggy, punk-style jacket he wore, Alabaster could easily imagine Pax as some flat-chested girl half-drowned in her friend’s borrowed clothing.

           And with the thought, Alabaster felt his chest constrict. For some reason, he felt horrendously uncomfortable.

           Alabaster spun Pax out for an underarm turn.

           Nothing would change if Pax were a girl. Then, she would just be Axel’s annoying little sister, instead of an annoying little brother—one that followed Alabaster around the laboratory, cheered when he succeeded in one of his experiments, made him hand-crafted presents, and was always ready with a goofy, lame joke to try to make him laugh.

           Why couldn’t Alabaster shake the idea that something would be different?

           The song would come to an end soon. Alabaster recognized the crescendo. He hadn’t realized until then that they’d danced through two songs—now it was the Waltz of the Snowflakes. Mnemosyne must have a Tchaikovsky Waltz playlist.

           Although the last two songs had been relaxing, Alabaster was eager for the end. Something felt off and he didn’t know why. It wasn’t the same anxiety as before. No, he’d almost forgotten about the others—

           Alabaster glanced around, finding Jack had stopped dancing to watch them.

           Alabaster released Pax’s hand and took a step back half-a-second sooner than he should have according to the music. Pax stumbled, not ready to stop following.

           That goofy smile on Pax’s face widened. “It’s okay. I also get distracted thinking about life, the universe, and everything, and forget how to end a dance.”

           “Nice song choice, Ajax,” someone said beside them.

           Alabaster jumped, having forgotten how many people were around them.

           Mnemosyne climbed back into her DJ booth. The throb of electronic and modern pop thudded back into the gym. Bored demigods cheered. Dancing monsters grumbled.  

           Axel stood near them, one hand still on Mercedes’ shoulder blade. Although he’d lowered their hands from the dance, his other hand still held hers. He continued talking to Pax, giving Mercedes a half-smirk that would have made half the girls in the gym faint. “You helped me find the best dance partner in Camp Othrys,” he said.

           Mercedes did not look amused. Her expression was as deadpan as ever. A lock of curly black hair had escaped the corner of her embroidered fabric. He had to wonder if Lucille forced her into some makeup. Mercedes typically wore the simplest, plainest, and most practical clothing she could, without make up or hair accessories other than her veil.

           “Pax One,” she said to the older of the two, “you found a temporary victim of circumstance that is now going to ruin Matthias’ life in Tekken. If you’ll excuse me.” She bowed her head, as though about to vanish into shadow after a spy mission. For a split second, he thought she frowned at Pax.

           “Uh-hu,” Axel said. As soon as she removed her hands, he took a step after her. “If I win a round of Tekken against you, I win another dance.”

           Pax stared at his older brother. “Axel, you’re awesome and everything, but you’re going to get obliterated.”

           Mercedes’ head didn’t move as her eyes shifted between the two brothers. “Listen to Pax Two. He is wise… unless you’re willing to gamble information on this game.”

           The offer sounded like a threat.

           Alabaster saw a minor opportunity unfolding.

           “If you’re going to do that, you should keep Tran around,” Alabaster suggested, smirking at Axel. “Least someone consider lying.”[4]

           Mercedes let a tiny smile slip. “The child of Aletheia, Goddess of Truth. Thanks, Torrington.” She nodded her appreciation. “Are you feeling lucky, Pax One?”

           Axel shot Alabaster a glare.

           At least he’d successfully started his revenge on the older Mayan.

           Pax tugged on Alabaster’s sleeve. “We can worry about Axel’s downfall later. Let’s get some punch and go for a walk!”

           “My downfall--?”

           “Come on!”

 ***

In two weeks (hopefully) are you ready for MORE FLUFF!?! …. And angst. AND MORE FL—oh, oh, next week is more on the angst side. *ehem* I see.

I hope you guys enjoyed! Thank you for reading :D

***

Footnotes:

[1] And thus, Grumpy Cat was born.

[2] Technically, our spiky friend should be dead by now, but I didn’t know that when I originally wrote this scene and I enjoy having random spikes reigning on this parade.

Also, this was written to Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake Suite, Op. 20a, TH 219: Act 1: Waltz.

[3] Okay, I’ll finally admit it, my representation of Chris and Matthias’s whole character are based off family members. <3 you guys.

[4] Call out to my home boy, VCRx.

chatzy // germs & jocks, linguini & jacques

DATE: Friday, April 17, 2020 CHARACTERS: Jack and Parker ABOUT: Mini-golf? Hair pulling? Germs? Jocks? Gay clowns? Karen? Whitney Houston? 

Parker knocked on Jack’s cabin door and smoothed his shirt, which was decidedly not a polo. He stood back and tilted his head to look up at the cabin. He never really understood why the people who designed the cabin went with this fucked up idea rather than one with bedrooms and wifi like his old one. He’d never been inside the cabin, but he figured it would be disorienting to see everyone walking by from the outside. “Hey!” He smiled when Jack answered the door, trying not to sound overly excited.

Lil' Jack had already beaten Jack to the door by the time Parker knocked. The huge windows made it easy to tell when anybody was coming near—not that anybody did—and they had become Lil' Jack's favorite place to pass the time people-watching. "Hey," Jack smiled as he opened the door. "Lil' Jack, sit," he tried to instruct as the dog raced forward to sniff Parker's shoes. "Sit!"

Parker smiled down at the little dog at his feet. "Hey buddy." He crouched before realizing that maybe Jack wanted to give his dog a lesson in discipline and that he might be reinforcing bad behaviors. "Is it cool if I pet him?"

"Yeah," Jack nodded. "He likes it when you scratch under his chin. I mean—I think he does? Sometimes he'll fall over but I can't tell if that means he's in ecstasy or if he's just given up."

Parker pet the dog that was jumping and wiggling at his feet. He scratched under his chin and the dog took a seat. He laughed a bit, looking up at (apparent) Big Jack. “Is he coming with us?” He laughed.

"So everyone can see the white-haired cyclops has a dog equivalent with the same name? Absolutely not," Jack declared. "He can take care of himself for a few hours."

Parker laughed again and gave the dog another pat before he stood. “Got all your putters ready?”

Jack stood aside to let Lil' Jack run back into the living room. "My... Oh. Um. Are we supposed to bring our own? Because, I don't—" He looked back into his house, trying to think of something he could use.

Parker shook his head quickly. “Oh! No, that was a joke.” He laughed a bit. “I just meant, like, are you ready for mini golf?”

"Oh." Jack smiled in relief. "Yeah, I'm ready." He started to step outside to close the door but paused halfway. "Wait, is what I'm wearing fine? I mean—I know we joked about suits but now I'm not sure what people wear to mini golf." He held out his hands so that Parker could assess his black shirt, black jean outfit.

Parker snorted and shook his head. “There isn’t , like, a dress code for mini golf. You look fine.” He rocked back on his heels. “I parked just over...” He motioned vaguely. “Have you never done mini golf before?”

Jack stepped out onto his porch and shut the door behind him. "Jack is really sheltered, surprise, surprise," he jokingly confirmed. "It always looks fun on TV though. The windmills."

Parker exhaled hard in a laugh and led them to the car. "It is fun! I haven't been in a while, but I like it when the tubes lead to other holes." He tilted his head. "You'll see what I mean when I get there. How was work?" He raised his eyebrows a bit.

Jack couldn't imagine what Parker was trying to say, but just nodded along anyway. "Work was... Nice," Jack lied. "I'm learning how to milk animals. Which I did not realize was going to be part of it."

"Ew," Parker said without thinking. "Uh, I mean, like... how was that?" He shook his head and opened the passenger door for Jack before circling around to get into the driver's seat.

Jack's heartbeat did a little flutter when Parker opened the door for him. He laughed and shook his head. "'Ew' is honestly a great word for it." He climbed into the seat and shut the door, then waited for Parker to get in before continuing. "It feels like... I'm violating the cow? But also weirdly satisfying. I..." He shook his head and put his hands up. "Okay, but that makes it sound like I'm a farm predator and that's really not what I meant."

Parker laughed as he buckled himself in. "Oh my God. I... guess I get it?" He laughed again and pulled out from where he was parked. "Can't say I've milked many cows though, fortunately enough. So you're, like, full milkman then? Like, get the milk, bottle it, deliver it?"

Jack pressed his lips together. "Yeah. Seems like it." He looked out the window, trying to remember the last time he was in a car. "Oh, but I don't have to wear a milkman outfit. To answer your question from the other day."

"Shame." Parker smiled and glanced at Jack as he pulled onto the road. "Not sure that's really your style though."

"Not really," Jack laughed. He looked over to watch Parker's hands on the steering wheel, occasionally glancing down to see his feet on the pedals.

Parker glanced at the GPS. "Can you tell me when my turn is? I hate when it talks so I mute it but then I have to constantly look at it," he admitted with a bit of a laugh. "Hard to drive without a navigator because of it.”

"Oh, yeah." Jack felt strangely excited about stepping into the role of a navigator. "You've got a mile," he instructed. "Then it's a right." He leaned back in his seat and checked his reflection in the side mirror. He wiggled his eyepatch around, trying to adjust it to look right on his face, but couldn't quite get it to sit the way he wanted. He sighed and turned back to the GPS instead. "Quarter of a mile.”

Parker turned when he was supposed to. "Thanks." He gave a small nod. "Sorry for taking you somewhere where you have a lack of experience, but I'm not gonna hold back." He grinned. "I'm gonna absolutely destroy you at mini golf."

Jack smiled. "I'd be kinda disappointed if you didn't. Like, if you took me on a date to mini golf but you're actually shit at mini golf? I'd judge you."

Parker laughed, a small flutter in his stomach as Jack mentioned the word date. "Yeah. I gotta play to my strengths. Last person I did this with could control the wind, and so I had to get really good to compete with that."

"Wait, what?" Jack laughed. "Ugh, people with powers are wild. Imagine being the wind god and that's what your kid is doing with their divine skills."

Parker shook his head. "Yeah. She could also summon lightning, but that was only when I won," he joked. "I think I'm lucky I don't have any powers, honestly, they seem..." He stopped himself from saying more, given who he was talking to, then wondered why he said anything. "Um, do I have another turn soon?"

Jack muttered a knowing, "Hm." He glanced down at the GPS and nodded. "Sorry, yeah—half a mile it's gonna be a left." He looked over at Parker and just watched him drive for a moment before chuckling. "I'm sorry—uh... Do you mind if I just, like..." Jack shook his head. "Never mind."

Parker glanced at Jack and raised an eyebrow before looking back at the road. "Do I mind if you...?"

Jack started turning pink and just shook his head, laughing. "Ugh, nothing. You're gonna think I'm a total loser if I ask and I'm already about to humiliate myself playing a sport."

Parker shook his head. "I can go easy on you. I promise I'm not that good at mini golf, I haven't done it in years."

"Sure," Jack said, his tone dripping with disbelief. He eyed the radio on the dashboard for a moment but said nothing about it. "This is the turn."

Parker shrugged one shoulder and didn't notice Jack's look. He put on his blinker and turned. "Uh, how's the gym going?"

Jack laughed. "Um. Fine. I have no idea what I'm doing so I probably look ridiculous." Jack shrugged. "I went at like, 2pm and there was nobody there. Hopefully it stays that way." He propped his elbow up on the window ledge so he could rest his head on his hand. He grinned at Parker coyly. "Do you lift?"

Parker smiled at the thought of Jack working out. He couldn't really imagine it. He snorted. "Yeah, gotta get those gains. Never skip leg day and all that. That's why I'm so hot."

Jack turned his face into his hand and laughed. "If that's what it takes to look the way you did in that ice cream jumper, then yeah. Never skip leg day." Jack saw a huge light up sign flickering ahead and pointed at it. "Is that the one?"

Parker grinned. "I still have it, if you want to borrow it and track your progress." He bobbed his head and pulled into the parking lot. "Yep! You ready for windmills and weird clowns?" He unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped out of the car.

Jack paused. "Wait, what?" He climbed out of the passenger seat. "Weird clowns? What kind of place is this?"

Parker shut the door behind him and shook his head. "Like, they have a bunch of weird stuff like that, like you have to pass the ball through the mouth of a clown on one of them. Are you afraid of clowns? It's just one hole."

Jack laughed. "I'm not. I think they're kinda sad." Jack looked ahead at the entrance to the mini golf area and felt a shudder run down his back. "Um, hang on. Can I talk to you before we go in there?"

Parker tilted his head, confused. "Sad?" He raised his eyebrows and nodded. "Um, yeah, sure."

"Okay, sorry—I don't mean to be a huge drama queen all the time. I'm just..." Jack shook his head and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Just kinda nervous? It's been a while since I've been around people who aren't, like... Demigods. And I'm kinda just remembering now that normal people aren't, like... Used to me. What I do. Sorry—am I making sense?" Jack was bouncing up and down on his heels.

"Oh." Parker nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, yeah. Um, we can just make sure that nobody touches you? Or, did you not want to go in anymore?"

"No, I definitely wanna go in," Jack quickly clarified. "Um. I'm just—I don't really know how my powers work on people people? Sorry." Jack shook his head. "I shouldn't have brought it up. Everything's probably gonna be okay and I'm... Let's just—" Jack made a shooping motion toward the entrance.

Parker nodded slowly. "Okay. Let me know if you feel uncomfortable at all." He started walking to the entrance and smiled at Jack. "Um, I brought gloves."

Jack smiled back. "Oh." He couldn't tell if his nerves were coming from a place of happiness or anxiety. Jack told himself they were happy. He held out his hands to take the gloves and added, "Thanks."

Parker pulled plastic gloves from his pocket and handed them to Jack. When they entered, Parker didn't seem to notice the uneasy glances in their direction. He paid for both of them and picked out a few putters, trying to figure out which one was good for his height. "I grabbed us some balls, but they might be the same colour." He held out a red ball and a green one.

Jack tried to keep his head down, ignoring the glances of strangers as he passed by. He slipped the gloves on as Parker paid then looked down at the golf balls he picked out. Jack laughed. "Um, do you wanna get another color?" He plucked the green one from Parker's hand. "This one is green."

Parker put away the red ball and picked out a yellow one. "What's this?"

"Yellow," Jack replied. "Uh, how many colors can you see?"

"I've never counted!" Parker put away the ball and picked out a purple one. "This is... blue?"

Jack smiled. "Purple."

"Hmm." Parker nodded. "Well, it's different than that one." He walked to the first hole and put his ball down. "You know how this works, right?"

Jack scoffed. "I'm not an idiot Parker." He looked down the green and pursed his lips. "But just for your sake, maybe you should explain how it works."

Parker's face fell when Jack scoffed, afraid that he'd offended him, but then grinned. "Um, well, you have to start on this end." He put his ball down. "And then you hit it with the putter and try to get it in the hole. And then we write down how many hits it takes to get it in, and whoever has the lowest score wins." He nodded. "Do you wanna go first, or should I?"

Jack followed along. He had known how the game worked, it turned out, but was glad that he wasn't just imagining it. "Uh, let me go first. Before you destroy my self-confidence with your skills," Jack joked. He set his ball down, looked toward the hole, and haphazardly swung his putter, sending the ball bouncing down the green. "Fuck," he laughed.

Parker smiled and watched Jack. "Okay, now just go until you get it in." He swung his putter back and forth. "You know, I just realized that I keep trying to make you do sporty things. Next time we can do something more to your strengths, I promise. We can, um... milk cows?" He joked.

Jack shoved Parker. "Ew, shut up!" He laughed and crossed his arms. "Ugh. If that becomes my thing, I'm gonna like... Walk into the sea."

Parker laughed and wasn't even moved by Jack's shove. "Fine, fine, what's your thing then? Being cute and moody?"

Jack felt his cheeks warming. "I mean, duh." He stepped aside so Parker could tee up. "I don't know... Like... Music? I'm not really good at anything, TBH. It's something I've actually been thinking about. Kinda why I wanted to get a job."

Parker put his ball down and shot. The ball went straight into the hole, then he looked back at Jack. "And a dog? Or was that just because you guys match?"

"Uh, no," Jack tried not to look too impressed that Parker scored a hole in one. "I don't really know why I did that." Jack shrugged. "I guess... It's nice to have someone around who doesn't see me for what I'm lacking, or for what I can't do. I'm just... A person." Jack's eyes flickered to Parker's. "But also because we match."

Jack shrugged, following Parker down the green. "I guess it's because he's an animal? I haven't had any issues with the cows either, so..." He looked at his ball sitting ten feet away from the hole. "Do I hit it again or am I out because you already got it in?"

Parker shook his head and stood back. "You just keep going, and then we track how many hits it takes you to get it in." He swung his putter back and forth again. "He's sweet. Does he like your music?"

"Oh cool, so we drag it out for maximum shame. I love that," Jack joked, putting the ball once more. The ball came to a stop about two feet from the hole. "I guess? He hasn't complained about it yet. We'll see if he runs away." Jack walked over to the hole and putted once again. The ball clattered as it fell into the plastic cup. Jack smiled over at Parker and pointed at himself. "Jock."

"It'd be cute if he howled along with it or something. You can put him on a track." Parker laughed. "Your French needs some improvement." He started off to the next obstacle.

Jack furrowed his brow at Parker's joke, not quite getting it. "I'll... Think about that." Jack looked around at the three greens surrounding them and pointed at the nearest one. "Um, I'm assuming this is the next one because of this sidewalk thing, but you're the golf expert."

Parker didn't process that Jack wouldn't get the joke, so he moved on. "Yeah, it's pretty straightforward, kinda leads you right around the course." He tapped Jack's leg with his club. "This one's got a little hill, and I think the next one has the windmill, so it'll actually get exciting." He put the ball down, tapped it, and ran to the top of the hill to meet it. "What's your favourite food?"

Jack watched Parker putt so that he could try to recreate the same shot. Once Parker left, Jack lined up his ball the same way and gave a good, hard hit. "Um, not sure," Jack thought out loud as the ball careened down the green. "Maybe açai bowls? I, like... Eat them sometimes," he shrugged.

Parker moved out of the way so that he wouldn't mess up the shot, then took his own, managing to just get the ball into the hole. "Okay." He nodded, pocketing that information. "Do you... dye your hair that colour?"

Jack laughed as he lined up his shot. "No. That's the natural color. My mom had white hair when she was young too." He putted the ball, once again coming within three feet of the hole. "What else do you wanna know?"

Parker hummed and rocked back and forth on his feet. "Um, I don't know," he admitted with a small smile. "Have you ever seen Ratatouille? I think you'd like it."

Jack walked over to the ball and putted it. Another miss. He furrowed his brow at Parker with a hint of a smile. "What makes you think I'd like it?"

"The hair pulling?" Parker laughed as soon as the words left his mouth. "Um, but, like, um, it's just funny. Like, the rat is really sarcastic in it. It's like, your sense of humor."

Jack's face got hot as soon as Parker answered the question. He bit his lip and nodded his head for a moment. "So if I'm Remy..." He grinned at Parker. "Is this you asking me to pull your hair?"

Parker flushed and wondered if he could have avoided this situation? There was nothing he could have said or done differently that would have prevented this, he thought. "Um, please don't ask me if I want you to pull my hair while saying you're Remy."

Jack almost doubled over from the laugh that came out of him. He used his putter as a support as he bent over laughing. "Oh my gods." Jack clutched his stomach. "Fuck," he cackled. "Oh my gods. Ow."

Parker flushed somehow hotter and pressed a hand into his cheek as he laughed, shaking his head. "Oh my God." He squeezed his eyes shut and ran a hand through his hair. "Wow, please just... ignore everything I say, ever. Thanks."

Jack shook his head. "I like the things you say." He tried to regain his composure and his breath so he could line up to take the shot. Still chuckling, Jack putted his ball into the hole and scooped it right back up into his hand. He looked at Parker, then up at his hair, then burst out laughing again.

Parker kept his hand pressed to his face as he smiled at Jack, and then groaned when he started laughing again, though he joined him soon. “Shut up! Just... ugh.”

"Sorry!" Jack tried to calm down. "Oh my gods... Wow." As Jack's breath slowed, he pulled up the bottom of his shirt to dab his eye dry and blot under the edges of his eye patch. "Sorry, wow. That was..." He smiled at Parker. "Okay. Hair pulling. Got it."

“Ugh.” Parker rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it as he grinned, leading them to the next hole. “Your much-awaited windmill. Do you want to go first?”

"Sure," Jack shrugged. "I think I get how it works now." Jack lined up his shot and gave a solid putt, sending the ball halfway down the grain. Jack stepped off the tee and gestured for Parker to take his turn. "Mr. Linguini."

Parker groaned dramatically. “You’re...” He shook his head. “I’m never gonna live that down, huh? And you’re the one who called himself a rat!”

"I think you'll live it right up until the next time you say something equally incredible," Jack speculated. "I still think about Yeast Man."

Parker rubbed his cheek and wondered how he could still speak with how far his foot was shoved into his mouth every time he opened it. “You’re... annoying.” He was still grinning. He put down the ball, shot, and frowned as it bounced back after hitting against the windmill. “You’re up, Bacteria Boy.”

Jack made his way over to his ball and gave it another putt towards the hole without really thinking about it. The ball clinked as it sunk into the hole. Jack threw an arm up. "Oh my gods! Plus two for Bacteria Boy!" He sauntered over to Parker with a huge grin on his face. "Eat my bacteria, bitch."

Parker leaned on his putter as Jack walked over, and bit his lip as he smiled at him. “You’re... Cute.” He tapped Jack’s shin with his putter. “Especially since you think this means you have a chance. I’m still gonna destroy you.”

"I'll believe it when I see it," Jack taunted, tapping Parker's butt with the handle end of his putter. "Good luck."

Parker’s eyes glinted, the competition taking priority over flirting. He watched the windmill turn a few times, tapped his ball, and timed it so that it streaked past the blades and into the hole. “Ha! You eat my bacteria. Bitch,” he added as an afterthought.

Jack rested his head in his hand, watching Parker sink his shot. He shook his head, smiling. "Eat your yeast?" Jack made his way to the next hole, eager to play now that he felt like he had some actual momentum going.

“Ew.” Parker snorted as he followed after Jack. “This is one of the tube ones,” he said excitedly. There were three holes this time, and each one led to a different place, one being straight into the end hole, the other two slightly further away. “I’ll start!” He put his ball down and shot. The ball bounced around the green, careening straight past the hole that led to the end, and into one of the other tubes. “Hm.”

Watching Parker's ball sail past one hole and into another—spitting out at a non ideal location—Jack just nodded his head. "Okay," he mumbled as he took his place on the tee. Jack made a line in the air with his putter from his ball to the desired hole before putting. Then, Jack watched as his ball sunk into the tube, spat back out further downhill, and roll straight into the cup. Jack turned to Parker, mouth agape. "Eat. My. Fucking. Germs. Parker."

Parker watched as Jack’s ball went exactly where it was supposed to and touched his tongue to his teeth as he shook his head, smiling. “Whatever. I’m still beating you.” He poked a finger into Jack’s chest before scampering down to where his ball was. He tapped it lightly and it stopped about an inch away from the hole. He let out a frustrated breath and tapped it again, then pulled it from the cup.

"Uh-huh," Jack taunted as he watched Parker miss his shot. "Um... I'm basing my decision to date you again entirely on your performance tonight. So..." Jack tapped his putter against Parker's shoe with a smile.

"You know, that's not the first time I've heard that." Parker laughed. "And I've always gotten a second date."

Somehow, Jack was the one turning pink. He nudged his shoulder against Parker's as he passed him and headed toward the next hole. "I like the confidence."

Parker followed Jack with a spring in his step. “Thanks. Does it add to the performance for you?” He raised his eyebrows before dropping his ball on the next green. “Ugh, this one is my least favorite. You have to make sure it doesn’t get in the water.” There was a narrow bridge leading straight for the hole, and then larger passes over the sides. Parker considered his options and what Jack had just said about liking his confidence. He lined up a shot and sent the ball halfway across the narrow pass before it tipped over and fell into the water. “Shoot.” He ran over and reached in to fish it out, then shook the water from his hand. “Well...” He shrugged.

"It helps," Jack remarked. He surveyed the course as Parker lined up for his shot. It looked promising up until the ball swerved off the edge of the bridge. "What does it mean if it falls in the water?"

Parker shook his head. “It counts as a hit, but I have to start from where I last hit it.”

Jack nodded and lined up his shot. "Okay." He wasn't sure whether to take it down the center or to the sides and didn't quite make up his mind before he hit the ball. Jack watched as it rolled across the green and straight into the water. "Well..." Jack grinned and looked over at Parker as he went to pick up the ball. "This feels right."

Parker smiled and tapped his golf ball to Jack’s. “Cheers.” He dropped the ball and nodded. “Well, middle or bust, right?” He hit the ball hard, sending it straight into the water. “Hmm.”

Jack laughed as Parker confidently sent his ball into the water. "Ugh, oh my gods, I might be here all night." Jack lined up his ball at the tee once more. This time, trying to be more aggressive with his swing, he wound the club back a bit further before taking his shot. Jack swung his putter with gusto, missing the ball entirely and then sending it flying backwards on the rebound. "Oh my fucking gods—" Jack cackled, watching his ball bounced onto a different green. 

Jack looked both ways before crossing the small boundary to retrieve his ball. "Sorry," Jack apologized to a small child as he reached around them to grab the ball. "I'm just—" As Jack picked up the ball, giving a little small to the kid, the kid gasped audibly. "Oh no—" Before Jack could get out another word, the child let out a wailing scream and sprinted in a different direction. Jack, dipping his head, walked back towards his hole without saying another word.

Parker laughed as Jack sent his ball backwards. “Right attitude, wrong direction!” He crouched to pluck his ball out of the water, but his head shot up as he heard a scream. He frowned and tilted his head as Jack returned. “What happened? Are you okay?”

Jack shrugged, trying to hold a smile. “Uh, yeah. Just, uh... Freaked a kid out, I guess.” He shook his head and put the ball back on the tee. “Not a big deal. I’ll just—or sorry, it’s your turn, right? Let’s just—“ Jack scratched his head and pointed at the tee with his putter. “Yeah.”

Parker ran a hand through his hair and nodded, not wanting to push anything. He dropped the ball to the ground and swung, finally managing to make it over the small bridge, just barely. "Ugh, finally. Acai bowls are gonna be your second favorite food after how many of my germs you eat."

Jack mustered up a smile. "Didn't know we were gonna be having dinner on this date," he joked feebly. Jack lined up to putt again. A swing. A miss. Jack watched as the ball, clipped by the corner of the putter, rolled an entire three inches away before slowing to a stop. He closed his eyes and exhaled a laugh. "I... Suck."

Parker pressed his lips together to keep from laughing. "At least you hit it forward this time?" He tapped his ball and get it into the cup with a satisfying noise. He held his putter out towards Jack. "If you want, I can do that cute thing where I wrap my arms around you and show you how to line up a shot and then you can gush about how sporty I am."

Jack smiled and sighed in relief. "I was afraid that I was gonna have to be the one to ask." Jack stepped forward a bit and gestured to the space beside him. "Please."

Parker grinned, happy that Jack agreed and didn't leave him feeling like a jerk. He walked around the water, put his putter down, and wrapped his arms around Jack easily. He was always somewhat surprised about how small Jack was when he was this close to him. His hands met the plastic of Jack's gloves and his heart raced as he lined up the shot. "Okay, we're still going for middle or bust, obviously." He helped Jack swing, sighing in relief when the ball rolled smoothly over the narrow path, stopping close to the cup. "Oh, thank God," he said under his breath. He pressed a kiss to Jack's shoulder before he pulled away, smiling. He pointed to himself. "Jock."

Jack hoped that Parker wasn't actually trying to teach him anything in earnest, because all he could focus on was how firm Parker's arms felt against his. Jack cheered quietly when the ball sank into the whole, but his voice quickly rose into a crack when he felt Parker plant a kiss on his shoulder. Face thoroughly flushed, Jack laughed at Parker's assertion. "Jacques," Jack responded, pointing to himself. "I finally got it a few minutes ago but didn't know how to bring it up again."

Parker tossed his head back as he laughed and moved to grab his golf club again. “Oh, I thought you didn’t find it funny.” He leaned back on his putter and smiled at Jack. “Now you can gush about how sporty I am.”

Jack snorted. "Oh my gods, you're so sporty," he droned. "Do me in the locker room." Jack smirked in Parker's direction as he went to grab his ball. "We can be that jock quarterback and depressed gay kid trope in all the indie movies."

Parker laughed more, but couldn’t help but bask in the compliments, even if they were delivered sarcastically and at his own request. “My dream come true. Better than...” He shook his head and put his putter over his shoulder. “Ready for the next hole? I won’t help you cheat on the next one.”

"Are you sure? Because I don't think I totally got that swing, you might have to show me again," Jack chided as he stood beside the next tee.

Parker snickered and tapped the back of Jack's leg with his club. "I don't trust you. You're pretending you're being flirty when you're really just trying to beat me."

Jack scoffed. "I can't believe you think that I'd have to pretend to flirt. I'm literally never not flirting with you, Parker. Do you know me at all?" Jack shook his head and teed his ball. "Disgusting." Jack took his shot and watched his ball land a respectable distance from the hole.

Parker rested his hand on his cheek. “Ugh, whatever.” He dipped his head and hit the ball, sending it just slightly ahead of Jack’s. “So you were being actually flirty while also trying to get me to win for you.”

"Yeah, duh," Jack explained as he walked over to take his next shot. "I mean, if you help me win, it's almost like you still won, so it's kind of a win-win." Jack took his shot and the ball fell into the hole. Jack shrugged. "Just saying."

Parker rolled his eyes, still smiling. He rubbed his jaw and took his shot, getting the ball in after Jack. "Fine." He tapped his putter against Jack's shoe. "You've convinced me. I'll win for the both of us and then do you in the locker room." Even using the words Jack had didn't stop Parker from flushing slightly, and he tipped his head back so he wouldn't have to see Jack laugh at him. He turned to walk to the next green. "I think we're almost through the course. We've been doing pretty well, actually," he said as he checked the sheet of paper he was keeping track of their scores on.

Jack's laughter was diluted with a rush of nerves (hope?) that Parker was being serious. He followed Parker to the next green and peeked over at the piece of paper. "Who's winning?"

Parker moved the paper so that Jack could see it as well. “You have sixteen, and I have thirteen, so me.”

Jack snatched the piece of paper away from Parker and replaced it with his hand. "Okay, but barely. I'm like, a very close runner up."

Parker let Jack take it and smirked. "Second place is also last place when there's only two people."

"I guess that puts you second to last." Jack lifted up their hands to kiss his own thumb before letting go so that he could make his putt. The ball rolled across the green straight into a carpeted 'sand' trap. "Ugh."

Parker laughed and ducked his head, rubbing his cheek. "I guess so." He snorted at Jack's attempt and stepped up as though to show him exactly how to execute the shot perfectly. He hit the ball in an almost identical way to Jack, ending up in the same trap, then rubbed the back of his neck. "Hm. This is a harder one."

Jack's knees gave way as he cackled. "Oh yeah?" He walked over to see where Parker's ball had landed and laughed again. "Wow. Look at this skill. I'm so turned on right now."

"Shut up." Parker laughed and shook his head as he walked over to meet Jack. "I haven't done this in a while. It's intentionally tricky."

"I can tell." Jack stood in the sand trap and chipped the ball out. The ball bounced onto the green and rolled two feet from the hole. "See that?" Jack smirked. "Jacques."

Parker rolled his eyes and sent the ball out of the trap and closer to Jack's. "I transferred all my skill to you when I showed you how to do it." He reached out to poke Jack's arm. "Are you sure you can't control the wind?"

"Does this answer your question?" Jack sidled up to his ball and gave it a firm putt toward the hole. The ball stopped short two inches away. "Ugh. It was cuter in my head when the ball actually went in.

Parker smiled. "It was still cute."

Jack just tapped the ball into the hole with his putter before picking it up and walking over to Parker so he could take his turn. As he passed Parker, Jack pecked a kiss onto Parker's shoulder. "Good luck." In the distance, Jack thought he saw somebody pointing in his direction, but he chose to ignore it.

Parker poked Jack’s side this time, grinning as he pressed his shoulder into his cheek. “Thanks, not that I need it.” He tapped the ball lightly and pumped his fist as he watched it drop into the cup. “It would’ve been pretty funny if I missed it there.”

Jack smiled anyway. As he walked over to the next hole, Jack got a clearer view of a family in the distance, definitely staring and pointing at him. Jack turned his head away and dropped his ball on the tee, grumbling quietly.

“Good thing I’m too good to.” Parker walked after Jack, and turned his head, frowning as he saw the people staring at them. He turned away and rubbed his cheek.

Jack took his shot without thinking too much about it. The ball stopped respectably close to the hole, but Jack didn't seem too excited, his mind preoccupied with something else. "You're up."

Parker shot and the ball looped around Jack’s, landing in the cup. He smiled and didn’t look behind him again as he tapped Jack’s wrist with the handle of his putter. “Did you ever play that game where you had to spell out a word and then the other person had to guess what word you were spelling?” Parker blinked, realizing he explained it wrong. “Like, you spell out the word by tracing it onto somebody. And then they have to guess what you’re writing on them.”

Jack shook his head. "Sounds like a tough game to play for a dyslexic person," he joked. "Is it fun?"

"Yeah, kinda. I typically would tap out after like, four letters." Parker shrugged. "It could depend on who you play with."

Jack made his way over to his ball. "Where do you draw the word? Like, where on the body?" He lined up to take his shot.

Parker quickly ran over when he remembered that he didn't already take his own ball out of the cup. "Um, could be anywhere? I think on the back mostly, so they can't watch you do it."

Jack waited until Parker was out of the way to make his shot. A narrow miss. "Ugh. That sounds like a cute game though. You could write little messages on someone's back." Jack scribbled in the air, "'You're cute.' 'I like you.' 'End my suffering.' Stuff like that." Jack tapped the ball into the hole with his putter then plucked it out of the cup.

Parker exhaled a laugh. “I think that’s the point of it. You can be like ‘hi’ or ‘eat my fucking germs’ or ‘pull my hair’.” He smirked and looked away from Jack. “I think the last the next one is the last one, and then we can figure out how badly I beat you,” he said as he walked them to the next green.

Jack smiled, resisting the urge to just reach out and spell out any of those things across Parker's back with his tongue. "Ugh, great." Jack looked ahead to the final hole. "Ah, the clown mouth." As they stepped up to the tee, Jack was greeted by an oversized clown head with a ramp leading up to the back of its throat. Jack frowned. "This is some gay shit."

Parker laughed, shaking his head at the clown. "What's gay about two guys trying to get balls into a clown's mouth?"

Jack snickered. "Just stand five feet away from me while we do it." Jack lined up his shot and putted the ball straight up the bridge into the clown's mouth. He walked over to pick it up and noticed that the back of the clown's mouth was some dark abyss. "Oh... Is that it? He just... Eats it?"

Parker grinned and brought his putter up as though to measure out the distance between himself and Jack, taking a step back. He nodded and stepped up, dropping his ball onto the tee. “Uh, yeah, I think it returns the balls to where they’re stored. But you got a hole in one! Finish strong.” He smiled and took the shot, but his face fell slightly as it just bounced off of the clown’s tongue. “Uh, unlike that.”

Jack laughed. "Uh, well you've got like, ten tries left before I catch up to you, so... Literally zero pressure." He stepped in toward Parker and leaned onto his putter like a cane.

“Well there’s some pressure. If I take ten tries you’ll never want to speak to me again because I suggested doing something I’m bad at.” Parker rested his hand on his cheek and stuck out his lip in a pout. “You might need to blow me a kiss, for luck.”

Jack laughed and dropped his head. He pulled off a glove, held it up to Parker's cheek, and planted a kiss right over it. Then, holding it by one end, Jack playfully smacked Parker's cheek with the plastic glove. "Good luck."

Parker waited patiently as Jack complied, and brought his fingers up to his cheek when Jack smacked him. "Hey!" He laughed and pressed his lips together as he took his shot and willed the ball to go where it was supposed to. As it disappeared into the mouth void, he turned to Jack, beaming. "I win."

Jack gave Parker an unimpressed smile. "Okay, but you were always going to beat me anyway." He slipped his glove back on and reached out for Parker's hand. "Sorry I don't have a prize for you."

Parker folded up the score sheet and put it in his pocket before he took Jack’s hand. He rested his putter on his shoulder and sighed, though he couldn’t bring himself to frown. “I’ll let it slide, for now.”

The smile on Jack's fell quickly when he turned toward the exit and saw a woman walking up toward them. "Fuck," he whispered under his breath, trying to avoid her gaze. "Excuse me," the stranger called out sternly. "Did one of you say something to my daughter?"

Parker put his putter down in the return basket and only glanced at the woman for a moment before he shook his head. He forced himself not to let go of Jack’s hand. “Um, sorry, no. We’re actually just leaving too so...”

Jack kept his head down as the woman continued on, her voice rising. "Okay, well she's not crying for nothing. So why don't—" "It was me," Jack piped up. He lifted his head to look at the woman straight on, noticing her whole body flinch when she took in his scar. "My ball rolled onto the other course and I went to go pick it up. I guess your daughter was afraid of my face."

Parker raised his eyebrows at the woman and took a moment to think about what Kieran might say in a situation like this. "I believe that your time might be better spent comforting your child or teaching them manners, rather than haranguing strangers before they leave the park," he said sternly, giving Jack's hand a quick squeeze before he tried to pull him away. "Let's go."

Jack followed Parker's lead and started toward the exit, but not without first seeing the woman's face turn completely red. "I'm—I am so sorry, I didn't know," she blubbered. Jack pressed his lips together to hide his smile. As they stepped off the greens, Jack heard a splash coming from behind them. He turned around to see that the woman had tripped and falling into the artificial river where they had sunk so many shots. Jack clutched Parker's arm with his free hand, trying his hardest not to bust out in laughter. "Oh my fucking gods," he exhaled.

Parker didn’t pay the woman any mind as she apologized, scowling to himself about the entire interaction. He clenched his jaw and turned when he heard a splash, then shook his head and pressed a hand to his forehead as he watched the woman flounder and pull herself out of the water. “Jesus,” he said under his breath as she wailed along with her child. He turned to Jack and shook his head again, smile slowly appearing on his face once more. He ran a hand through his hair. “Oh my... wow. That was...” He couldn’t help himself and started laughing.

Jack turned in toward Parker, unable to stop himself from laughing along. "Wow. She..." He trailed off, too caught up in his fit of giggles. Jack clasped both his hands around Parker's. He bit his lip and focused on Parker's smile for a moment before shaking his head. "Uh, thanks. For sticking up for me."

Parker took a moment to compose himself, and then laughed again before he caught his breath fully. He pressed his cheek into his shoulder and smiled up at Jack. "What else would I do?" He grinned, then started laughing again. "Wow, a book club is gonna get an earful about me shoving that woman into a pond on a mini golf course."

Jack shut his eyes and laughed, squeezing Parker's hand. He peeked over his shoulder to see the woman dripping wet in front of her howling children. "Um, we should probably go before she comes over here and accuses you of assault."

Parker let out another small laugh and brought his hand up to kiss Jack through his glove. "Yeah, let's go." He turned fully now and started back to the car.

Jack followed Parker back to the car in a dreamlike state. He tried his hardest not to stare at Parker the whole time, but failed a few times along the way. Jack didn't realize how alluring it was to have his crush stand up for him against a bully, but he could definitely get used to it. Once they got back to the car, Jack leaned over and kissed Parker's shoulder before letting go to climb in.

Parker had to resist the urge to kiss Jack’s head while it was right there, but grinned at him as he get into the car. He tapped out a happy tune into the roof of the car before getting in himself. He buckled in and pulled out of where they were parked. “Do you like mini golf now?”

Jack clicked his seatbelt in and tipped his head back to smile at Parker. "I like you," he joked. "But I guess the mini golf was pretty fun too."

Parker smiled back at Jack before moving his eyes back to the road. "I think mini golf was more fun with you."

Flushing pink, Jack reached across to squeeze Parker's shoulder. He bit his lip for a moment then looked away. "Uh, remember how there was I thing I was gonna ask you earlier?" Jack asked meekly, his smile audible in his voice.

Parker glanced at Jack for half a second. "Yeah?"

"Ugh," Jack ran a hand over his face, turning an even deeper red. "I can't believe I'm telling you this but I don't know when I'll get the chance again, so..." He looked over at Parker. "I've always wanted to do that cheesy movie thing where you roll down your windows and blast some 80's anthem and just like... Drive away from the camera."

Parker laughed and fumbled around to see if there was anything for Jack to plug his phone into. "Um, go ahead!" He grinned. "Who are you putting on?"

Jack fished around for a cord for a bit then plugged his phone in once he found one. "Um... I only really know the Breakfast Club song," Jack confessed. "Or like... So Emotional."

Parker tapped the steering wheel with one hand. "Play So Emotional! I love Whitney Houston."

Jack wasn't sure why he found Parker's enthusiasm so funny, but he laughed anyway. "Sure," he replied, tapping on the song. Jack turned up the volume dial until the intro percussion was vibrating in his seat, then rolled down his window. Right on time with the music, Jack called out, "I don't know why I like it... I just do!"

Parker rolled his window down as well, grinning widely as he glanced at the GPS and turned. "I think this is great! I... This is great!"

Jack laughed along, still bopping to the music. He turned to watch Parker drive as Whitney nailed the verse. Jack couldn’t resist reaching over and brushing his fingers over Parker’s cheek before resting his hand on Parker’s shoulder. “See I remember the way we touched,” Jack sang along. “I wish I didn’t like it so muuuch!”

Parker struggled to focus on the road. "I get so emotional baby!" He laughed as he sang along. "Every time I think of you!" He didn't point at Jack because he was driving and regretted every moment of it.

Jack kept on singing, his gaze switching back and forth between Parker and the road. There were several things that Jack wanted to do in the moment but all of them carried the risk of crashing, and so Jack just sat back and let the moment wash over every inch of his being.

chapter forty-nine—eternal mess

read Child of Land and Sea here

Act V — Walking On Water

Part XII — To be a true hero, kid, is a dying art. Like painting a masterpiece, it's a work of heart.

Hermes kissed his son's forehead and murmured a blessing in ancient Greek. Then the Three Fates themselves took the bodies of Luke and Ethan away.

Andy asked Zeus to light up the top of the Empire State Building with blue colors and the god nodded. He didn't seem to care if it was a weird request or not; he just did it.

The Stoll brothers were fine. Mrs O'Leary had dug Chiron out successfully. Katie Gardner reported that she'd seen Rachel run out of the Empire State Building at the end of the battle. Nico di Angelo came into Olympus to a hero's welcome and so did his father. Clarisse marched in and the god of war proclaimed her the best warrior he'd ever seen. Hera seemed pretty upset Anthony had saved Olympus and murmured something about not being able to destroy him now. Dionysus thanked Andy for keeping his son alive.

The army of Poseidon, the ones who had defeated Typhon, marched into the throne room. Tyson saw Andy and smashed her in a Cyclops hug. Poseidon walked in and even forgave her for sitting on his throne. And for the first time in her life, her father embraced her. He was warm like a regular human and smelled like sea breeze. Andy felt like this huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She hadn't realized how much she was needing a hug. "Dad-" she cried softly.

"Shh," Poseidon said. "No hero is above fear, Andy. And you have risen above every hero. Not even Hercules-"

"POSEIDON!" a voice roared. Zeus had taken his throne. "Are you too proud to join us in council, my brother?"

"I would be honored, Lord Zeus." He strode over to his throne and the Council convened.

Zeus started this long speech about the bravery of the gods that seemed to last forever. While he spoke, Andy went to join Anthony who was still sitting in the same place where he had held Luke's body. He hadn't moved a muscle, not even when the Fates took Luke from his hands. Andy knelt beside him, took his hand and kissed it, but he didn't even seem to register her presence.

"As for my brothers," Zeus said, "we are very thankful... erm, thankful for the aid of Hades."

The lord of the dead nodded. He had a smug look on his face as he patted Nico on the shoulders.

"And of course," Zeus continued, "we must... thank Poseidon."

"I'm sorry," Poseidon said. "What was that?"

"There is no way I will be saying it again," Zeus grumbled. "Which leaves us the matter of thanking our young demigod heroes, who defended Olympus so well – even though there are a few dents in my throne." He called Thalia forward and promised his help in filling the Hunters's ranks.

Artemis spoke up. "You have done well, my lieutenant. You have made me proud, and all those Hunters who perished in my service will never be forgotten. They will achieve Elysium, I'm sure," she said glaring pointedly at Hades.

He shrugged. "Probably." Artemis glared at him some more. "Oh, all right," he grumbled.

Thalia beamed with pride. "Thank you." She bowed to the Olympians and limped back.

"Tyson, son of Poseidon," Zeus called. "Doesn't miss many meals, does he? Well, Tyson, for your bravery in the war, and for leading the Cyclopes, you are appointed a general in the armies of Olympus. You shall henceforth lead your brethren into war whenever required by the gods. And you shall have a new... um... what kind of weapon would you like? A sword? An axe?"

"A stick!" Tyson said.

"Very well," Zeus looked disappointed. "The best stick that may be found."

All the Cyclopes cheered.

"Grover Underwood of the satyrs," Dionysus called. "Oh, stop chewing your shirt. Honestly, I'm not going to blast you. For your bravery and sacrificed, and blah blah blah, and since we have an unfortunate vacancy, the gods have seen fit to name you a member of the Council of Cloven Elders."

Grover collapsed on the spot.

"Oh, wonderful," Dionysus sighed. "Well, when he wakes up, tell him that he will no longer be an outcast, and that all satyrs, naiads, and other spirits of nature will henceforth treat him as a lord of the Wild, with all rights, privileges, and honors. Now drag him off before he starts groveling."

Athena called Anthony and he took a long time to move. He stood before the gods, but he seemed to be a miles away. Athena approached him, touched his chin and made him look at her. "You have exceeded all expectations," she told him. "You have used your wits, your strength, and your courage to defend this city, and our seat of power. As it was once said, 'It takes a great deal of courage to stand up to your enemies, but even more to stand up to your friends.'"

Anthony winced like that was the last thing he wanted to hear.

Athena didn't let go of him. "Now, it has come to our attention that Olympus is... well, trashed. The Titan lord did much damage that will have to be repaired. We could rebuild it by magic, of course, and make it just as it was. But the gods feel that the city could be improved. We will take this as an opportunity. And you, my son, will design these improvements."

That got his attention alright. Anthony blinked and stared at his mother, stunned. "Me?"

Athena smiled. "You are an architect, are you not? You have studied the techniques of Daedalus himself. Who better to redesign Olympus and make it a monument that will last for another eon?"

"I... I can design whatever I want?"

"As your heart desires," the goddess said. "Make us a city for the ages."

"As long as you have no statues of Andy Jackson," Dionysus commented, "or I might never return here."

"Make plenty of statues of me instead," Apollo suggested.

"And me," Aphrodite agreed.

"Hey, and me!" Ares added.

"All right," Athena snapped. "He gets the point. Statues. Behold Anthony Chase," she said, "official architect of Olympus."

If Anthony had been miles away before, now he was a whole world away. Andy could see his mind working furiously as he walked back to the stones steps to sit down.

"Andy Jackson!" Poseidon called startling her.

She went to stand before them.

"There she is," Zeus said, "Olympus most disliked demigod."

Ares and Dionysus chuckled.

Andy felt herself blushing. "Okay," she said knowing they wouldn't be kind to her. "Bring it on. Give me all of your hate. But I saved your divine asses and I won't bow to you."

"We can certainly make you bow," Ares threatened.

"A great heroine must be rewarded," Poseidon ignored them. "Is there anyone here who would deny that my daughter is deserving?"

Zeus sighed. "The Council agrees that this unfortunate little brat will have one gift from the gods."

Andy stared at him. "Any thing I want?"

Zeus nodded grimly. "I know what you will ask. The greatest gift of all. Yes, if you want it, it shall be yours. The gods have not bestowed this gift on a mortal hero in many centuries but... Andromeda Jackson – if you wish it – you shall be made a goddess. Immortal. Undying. You shall serve as your father's lieutenant for all time."

Andy blinked. "A... goddess?" the word sounded completely alien in her mouth.

Zeus rolled his eyes. "A dimwitted goddess, apparently. But yes. With the consensus of the entire Council, I can make you immortal. Then I will have to put up with you forever."

"That means I can smash her to a pulp as often as I want, and she'll just keep coming back for more," Ares mused. "I like this idea."

"I approve as well," Athena said, though she was watching Anthony.

The entire idea was so ridiculous Andy started to laugh. Her laughter echoed on the stone walls and the Olympians watched her frowning. She held her stomach and laughed some more, until she heard someone say, "I think she lost it."

Andy looked up at them again. "I can't believe you just offered me this," she gasped. The Council was silent. "A goddess. Ha ha! Have you met me?" she asked them. "I'm like... I'm a... I'm a mess! You want to make me an eternal mess? No!"

"No?" Zeus said. "You are... turning down our generous gift?"

"No, thank you?" Andy smiled. "I'm sorry. I'm honored and everything, I just... don't think that was your brightest idea."

The throne room shook. "What did you say to me?"

"Don't get me wrong," she rushed. "I meant with all respect in the world. It's just... I want to... I want to live. And I want to die. When... you know, time comes." She gave Hades a weary look. The gods glared at her. It was the second time Andy refused immortality. She cleared her throat nervously. "But... um... if your offer still stands, there is something I do want."

Zeus took a deep breath. "If it's within our power."

"It is," she said. "But I need your word. Swear on the River Styx."

"What?" Dionysus cried. "You don't trust us?"

"Someone once told me, you should always get a solemn oath."

Hades smiled. "Guilty."

"Very well," Zeus growled. "In the name of the Council, we swear by the River Styx to grant your reasonable request as long as it is within our power." The other gods muttered assent. Thunder boomed. The deal was made.

"Well, then, here is what I want. From now on, you will recognize the children of the gods," she said. "All the children... of all the gods."

The Olympians shifted uncomfortably.

"Don't you see? All this war... all this death... brother fighting brother... and what for? Demigods who felt abandoned by their parents. They felt angry, resentful, and unloved, and they were not wrong."

Zeus's nostrils flared. "You dare accuse-"

"You dare deny it?" she cut him. "Will you look down on me and say that it is fair to put your children in the world and not once show them that you care? I say no more undetermined children. Claim them. Claim us. Don't leave us out on our own at the mercy of monsters. Protect us. Give us shelter. Bring us to camp so we can be trained right, so we can survive."

"Wait a sec-" said Apollo, but Andy ignored him.

"And the minor gods," she added. "Nemesis, Hecate, Morpheus, Janus, Hebe... they all deserve a general amnesty and a place at Camp Half-Blood. Their children shouldn't be ignored. You couldn't fight this war without us, which tells me that we matter. Calypso and the other peaceful Titan-kind should be pardoned. They did nothing wrong and it's not fair what has happened to them. And Hades-"

"Are you calling me a minor god?" Hades bellowed.

"No," she smiled. "But your children will not be left out. They should have a cabin too. Nico has proven that. No unclaimed demigods will be crammed into the Hermes cabin anymore, wondering who their parents are. They'll have their own cabins, for all the gods. We all matter and we are all welcome at camp. Because we're family."

Ares opened his mouth to speak, but Andy didn't let him.

"You need to stop trying to get rid of powerful demigods. We're going to train them and accept them instead." Finally, she stopped and glanced around the room expecting them to argue. But no one seemed to have the words.

Zeus snorted. "Oh, are you done?"

"Andy," Poseidon started carefully, "you ask too much. You presume too much."

"I presume nothing. I've watched my friends die," she reminded them. "The light left their eyes. And you know, all they wanted was to be loved, to be respected. By you. How is that much?"

That's when Aphrodite gave her a standing ovation. She walked up to Andy. "Ah, Andy Jackson," she said with a bright smile and tears in her eyes. "Such a beautiful surprise. You're so much better than the other Andromeda. All this love you have... I thought it was just for the boy, but you have enough for them all, don't you? The last time I saw someone love this deeply... Helen," she said dreamily. "But Helen was different from you. She was selfish. She'd let world burn as long as she had Paris, because her love was exclusive to him. But you kept the city safe, your family, your friends, and us."

"Okay, I think you're going to far kissing her ass-" Ares started to say.

"No," Aphrodite stopped him. "I've seen loss too. My daughter..." her voice faltered. "But even in the darkest hours, something brings me hope. The rest of you might not understand it. But Andy..." she focused her eyes on Andy. "Andy sees it too. The loudest love is that which is said in silence. Whatever it is you desire, Andy Jackson, shall be yours." Aphrodite reach out her hand.

Andy felt a chill when she touched the goddess. "You flatter me," she said thankfully. "I'm only human."

"Doesn't that just make you outstanding?" Aphrodite whispered.

"She is correct," Athena said, suddenly, surprising everyone. "We have been unwise to ignore our children. It proved a strategic weakness in this war and almost caused our destruction. Andy Jackson, I had my doubts about you, but perhaps" – she glanced at Anthony – "perhaps I was mistaken. I vote that we accept the girl's plan."

"I don't like you," Zeus felt the need to tell Andy. "Not one bit. You are presumptuous. You are rude. You don't know your place and you raise your voice to those more powerful than you." He let out a painful sigh. "But I suppose..."

"All in favor?" Hermes said and all the gods raised their hands.

Andy smiled at them. "You won't regret it. We will make you proud."

"Honor guard!" Poseidon called. The Cyclopes came forward and made two lines from the thrones to the door – an aisle for her to walk through. "All hail, Andromeda Jackson," her father said, "savior of Olympus."

Hermes met her at the door. "Turning down immortality," he said looking at her curiously. "You mortals... Always full of surprises. You know, it was decided Typhon was a freak series of storms and nothing else."

"How bad is the city?"

Hermes shrugged. "Not too bad. The mortals are shaken, of course. But it's New York. I'll help them get back to normal."

Andy nodded. "I owe you an apology," she said looking at her own feet.

"And why is that?" he asked bitterly.

"I thought you were a bad father," she admitted still avoiding his eyes. "I blamed you. Like he did. I thought you knew about his future, but didn't care enough to change it."

"I did know."

"But you knew more than that." Andy raised her eyes and faced the god. "You knew everything. You understood what needed to happen. You trusted he would make the right choice when the time came... and he did. I'm just sorry that you never got to tell him... how much faith you had in him."

"No one can temper with fate," Hermes said miserably. "Not even a god. If I had warned him what was to come, or tried to influence his choices, I would've made things even worse. Staying silent, staying away from him... that was the hardest thing I've ever done."

"I know," Andy said. "But he found his path. He saved us all."

Hermes sighed. "I shouldn't have blamed the boy," he said. "Anthony... when Luke visited him... I knew he was the only one who could get to him, who could reach out and find him in there." He shook his head. "Kronos isn't dead, you know? You can't kill a Titan."

"Then-"

"I don't know," Hermes grumbled. "None of us do. Blown to dust. Scattered to the wind. With luck, he's spread so thin that he'll never be able to form a consciousness again, much less a body. But do not mistake him for dead, Andy. He is not. My son's the one who died. Believing I didn't care about him."

Andy grabbed the god's hand. He stared at her surprised by the physical contact. "Weren't you listening to me in there?" she said. "I told you. Us, your children, we just want a little of your attention. Exactly because we love you. If we didn't, it wouldn't hurt so much when you don't answer. And Luke hurt the most. I think it's pretty obvious that he loved the most too."

A tear streamed down his face and he squeezed her hand.

"You have other children," Andy told him. "I expect you won't make the same mistake."

Hermes's shoulders sagged. "We'll try, Andy. We'll all try to keep our promise. And maybe for a while things will be better. But we gods have never been good at keeping oaths. You were born because of a broken promise, weren't you? Eventually we'll become forgetful. We always do."

"You can change."

Hermes laughed. "After three thousand years, you think the gods can change their nature?"

"If there is one thing I've learned from this war, is that Hope won't leave us unless we tell it to. There is always time for changing. Luke did. And you can too."

Hermes seemed surprised. "You think he really loved me? After all that happened?"

"I'm sure of it."

Hermes nodded. "I'll give you a list of my children. Will you see that they get to camp?"

"I promised," Andy said. "And I don't forget my promises."

"Andy Jackson," Hermes shook his head. "You might just teach us a thing or two."

The goddess of wisdom was also waiting to talk to Andy. It was proving a hard task to leave Olympus without calling attention. Athena's gray eyes blazed when she faced Andy. "You will stay a mortal," she said accusingly like it was a horrible thing.

"Yes."

"You gave us pretty good reasons," she sneered, "but I'm no fool, Andy Jackson. Aphrodite isn't the only one who can see right through you."

Andy hesitated. "I don't-"

"My son." Athena stepped forward and Andy had to fight the urge to run away.

"I love him." She held the goddess's stare with difficulty. She had never said it like that, so raw, so true.

Athena made a face. "I once warned you, Andy Jackson, that to save a friend you would destroy the world. I was mistaken. Like Aphrodite said, you saved both your friends and the world."

"Anthony did. And Luke. And Clarisse, and Silena, and Thalia, and Grover. I didn't do anything alone. A lot of people gave their lives so the gods could remain."

"True," Athena said. "I acknowledge it. That is why my warning will be brief: think very carefully about how you proceed from here. I have given you the benefit of the doubt. Don't mess up."

"I won't."

Athena shook her head. "I might let you have him," she said, "but I will never understand what he sees in you."

"Finally," Andy smiled at the goddess. "Finally something we have in common."

It must be the diet

The big city! Rocket cars zoom through the bustling, futuristic skyline. In the midst of alien architecture one tall spire stood out above the rest: The office building of Intergalactic Unlimited. This building was Boots's destination.

Boots took his time getting to work today. He spent part of the commute thinking about the mysterious message in his toast.

“Boy, this day is off to a great start,” Boots thought.

He could count on one hand how many times he has made that statement. Great starts generally don’t find Boots, especially with Pup in the picture.

The thought that Pup's scheme produced a positive result was a new concept to Boots. It did worry him a bit, though not enough to detract from his great morning.

He found a parking spot right next to the turbo shaft. This luck made rocketing up to the offices on the thirteenth floor a breeze.

Boots worked in the widget division of Intergalactic Unlimited. He moved his way up from sprocket polisher to manager of the doohickey regulatory group.

Boots was in such a good mood today; he wore his fancy new yellow polka-dotted tie to work.

As Boots made his way off the turbo shaft, Flo the office manager greeted him. She wore a green blouse that clashed with her pale purple skin. Her tentacles were longer than most Libitian, while her single eye was average in size.

“Something looks different about you,” Flo remarked scrunching her lower eyelid.

“Thank you, Flo! I've been on a diet,” Boots volunteered.

His reaction caught Flo off guard. Now she squinted both of her eyelids. “No, that’s not it,” she replied.

"It’s the tie,” she followed with, now doubled down.

Boots had begun to stroll away from Flo’s desk. “Wow, there is something to that toaster. It predicted my diet worked!” he stated, still within earshot of Flo.

“Not your diet, dingus. It’s the tie,” Flo muttered unsure if Boots had heard her parting jab.

Boots was at his desk precisely fifteen minutes before the start of his shift. If he timed it right, he‘d miss that chatty group at the water cooler. He hated being the focus of their discussions. When myopic cyclopes congregate, they tend to focus on the being that has two or more eyes. Boots once spilled a cup of coffee fumbling with his donut and was the talk of the office for three straight weeks. “There goes ol’ Spilzie McGee,” someone would say. “Memo to Boots: you dunk the donut, not the other way around,” written on a company bulletin board.

As Boots began to work, he felt like someone was watching him. Looking over his cubicle, he saw Al. Boots tried to ignore Al’s attempt to start a conversation. “Hey, Boots. Something different about you,” Al began, though Boots had not acknowledged a conversation was taking place.

Al was a little shorter than Boots but twice as wide. He was husky but not overweight. His orange complexion was in contrast to Flo’s purple hue.

Libitians sported a variety of colors and sizes. Some had feet and arms while others had tentacles.

Al’s shirt was never tucked in, and his hair was always poking off his head in no particular direction.

“Oh?” Boots replied, now actually into the conversation.

“It’s my diet. I’ve lost two pounds,” he volunteered.

“Nope, not that. It looks like you packed some weight on,” Al said matter-of-factly.

Boots would not let that comment bring him down. Al had tried the same Spiggly-O diet as Boots two months ago and gained the weight he should have lost. Al printed the menu out twice by mistake and thought he had to eat six meals a day.

As Boots was about to remind Al of his oversight, Rob rolled over. Rob was an annoying robot, from the test labs. He was an older model robot whose primary function was bugging aliens to pay their phone bills.

"This conversation was about to get worse," Boots thought.

“Hi, Rob,” Boots mumbled.

“Hiya, Boots. Is there something different about you?” Rob asked, getting right to the point.

“He has a new tie,” Al stated, tossing a smug look at Boots.

“I don’t think that’s it,” Rob shot back. “Looks like Boots lost some weight.”

“Thanks, Rob,” Boots started to feel vindicated. Then Rob delivered the punchline, “Sorry, I didn’t see Boots’ big ol’ head behind that dumb tie.”

Boots Began to wonder where this day would go.

The Fool’s Errand Carried On Our Shoulders (Part Three, Final Part)

Part One Part Two Character Creation Tag Writing Tag

Haley didn’t know, she didn’t know how this could happen. She’s sorry. Sososososo sorry. 

Haley’s sorry, Noah. 

This is the final part of the Character Creation AU. At least 1000 words. 

“Wh-Where am I?” Haley’s voice was too loud, she winced and covered her own ears.

She was lying down on what looked like a private room in the healer’s clinic, a small building by the library. There was even a privacy screen to her side. But she was- She was at Cyclops Lane last, right? She was…

Haley sat up, and smacked her head on something rather hard. She groaned, her hand covering her head as she leaned back. She looked up, and saw the glint of the light on whatever she hit her head on. She was in a glass container of some sort. Her hands pushed all around her, and it appeared she had half a glass tube, sitting flush to the plain wood of the bed.

She knocked rather hard against it, only to get a sharp shock across her knuckles.

Swearing, she put her hand to her mouth. That really hurt.

“Ah, Miss Raintamer, it appears that you are awake.”

Haley looked around, only to see one man.

“Ambrose?! What did you do to me?!” She slapped her hands against the glass barrier.

The headmaster glared, and her hands were shocked rather badly, twitching as she reflexively brought them back to her chest.

“I’m afraid you’ve done this to yourself, child.” He hobbled around her with the assistance of his staff, scanning her shrewdly. “It’s a shame, you had quite the magical talent. Your brother did as well.”

Haley’s eyes widened, but then twisted her face into a scowl. “What did you do to Noah?”

He laughed, the sound a far cry from his usual grandfatherly amusement. “Don’t worry, dear. Your brother is alive and well. For now, at least.” He waved a hand, and the privacy screen that was at Haley’s side fell, revealing a similar bed/tube thing, like what Haley was in.

“Noah!”

There he was, her twin. They had the same dirty blonde hair, same freckles. They were even both pushing six feet. She would’ve been looking at a mirror image if he had longer hair, and if she had a flatter chest.

He was completely passed out, his chest moving slowly. Apparently he had been taken in his sleep, as he was in a too-large blue shirt and yellow pajama bottoms. She felt relief at the evidence that he was alive, but was struck by anger yet again.

“He’s not involved in this. Let. Him. Go.” Her glare was sharp, her brown eyes like hardened amber.

“You were going to bring him your so called evidence, were you not? Besides, if you went missing mysteriously, he would have been the only one looking for you.” He smiled, as if he was expecting people to laugh. As if it was all a joke.

It hurt, but it was true. Haley wasn’t one for friends, used to having her brother to rely on.

“Just-Just let us both go. I won’t tell anyone- I-I promise. You said it yourself, who else am I going to tell? It’s not like Noah- It’s not like he has anyone besides me… He won’t tell either. He won’t- I won’t- please.”

Haley Raintamer isn’t one for manners. But no one should hurt her baby brother. He doesn’t deserve anything else, after all the shit he’s already gone through.

“If you were not prepared for the outcome of getting caught for your actions, of having consequences, then you should not have done it in the first place, Miss Raintamer. You see, no one steals from me. No one lies to me. And no one, no one lives to tell the tale after they do either.”

Her face fell, all airs of defiance gone. “I-I… please don’t hurt him. Please don’t…” She shook her head, tears falling.

“I’m afraid all chances for his survival are far gone. You need to be taught a lesson, child.” The headmaster waved his hand, and the glass container vanished.

Gasping for air, Noah sat up, only to be pushed down by the headmaster’s wrinkled hand. Instantly, Noah’s eyes were open, the same orange-brown of Haley’s eyes wide and fearful.

“Please-” His voice cracked painfully, “Who-What- Let me go!” He squirmed, struggling against the hand holding him down. He hated when people touch him.

Haley was sobbing quietly now, like a full glass being shaken, water coming out in large splashes.

“Haley?! Haley, help!” His voice kept cracking. “HALEY!”

“What is with you insolent children and speaking out of turn?” The headmaster waved a hand, and Noah was silent. Still talking frantically, but silent. His chest heaved.

“Now, I do believe we should get down to business.” Merle smiled grimly. Noah was no longer panicking, the fear sinking in until he was just staring at the headmaster with complete terror.

Then the headmaster brought out the two wooden constructs, both wearing exact replicas of their outfits.

Haley had seen them before. In pictures and sketches, diagrams for the old man’s dark rituals. It was all hidden in that book, his dirty secrets.

“No.” It felt like all the air had left her body, oh gods she couldn’t breathe- “No no no NO!” She slammed her shoulder against the glass, lightning crackling around in the glass, white hot against her skin. She felt the burns, but kept lashing out. “NO! PLEASE! PLEASE NO! NOT MY BROTHER!” She was blinded by tears, and dimly she heard thunder boom outside. “NO!”

Noah was crying too, silent and shaking and everything was shaking.

Haley kept screaming because oh gods, it’s her fault, her brother is going to die because of her- no… he wasn’t going to die, but it’s worse than death.

She watched as his back arched, and a bright yellow human-like form crawled out from him, faceless. Blue tinged it at the edges.

Haley slammed against the glass harder. The evil man took his soul from his body, his magic. The shaking stopped, and Noah was just lying there, eyes wide, staring up at the ceiling and so vacant and empty-

“Why?” Haley couldn’t stop crying, couldn’t breathe- “WHY DID YOU DO THIS?!” She hurled her body, shoulder first, against her container again. Her skin burned and everything burned.

The remainders of teardrops were still falling down Noah’s cheeks, his face an emotionless mask now.

Her pleas fell on deaf ears, the headmaster busy muttering words of power and guiding the soul to the mannequin. The soul eagerly leaped into its new vessel, the construct crumpling to the ground once they bonded.

“It is quite simple, my dear.” He turned on her, that glass eye glowing yellow now. “You see, at first it was because of that upstart Malistaire. We needed a savior, so I made one. However, I realized when that one died that it added to my life force.”

Haley tried to squirm as far away as possible. “Mali-Malistaire died over two centuries ago!” Her voice cracked.

“Indeed, child.” He smiled wickedly, approaching her. “Indeed.”

-

He had to put a binding spell on her. She wasn’t like Noah, wasn’t sharp retorts and patience. She was action, the thunder before the silent lightning.

She struggled against the invisible bonds, trying to protest but only able to say one thing. “Noah, NOAH!” She screamed it over and over, her voice hoarse and dry.

Ambrose muttered sharply, almost hissing the words of power. Haley screamed, feeling everything in her body rip and tear-

Everything was empty, and she watched things happen as if she was far away.

It was her life. Flashing before her eyes.

She was seven, sharing a very pink cake with her twin, both of them arguing over something silly, like how many candles they get each. Eventually, they were shoving cake at each other's faces.

She was nine, helping her sibling cut his braids off, because he didn’t want to be a ‘girly-girl’ anymore. Their smiles both showed missing teeth

She was ten, and it turns out Noah isn’t a girl at all.

She was eleven, and she let the blood drop into the ritual bowl, and it trembled with power, eventually showing a glowing storm symbol, the purple lighting up her face as she grinned.

She was twelve, and she finally cast her first spell. The snake hissed, and followed her around like a familiar, eventually dissipating.

She was thirteen, going to Krokotopia for the first time, hand in hand with her brother.

She was fourteen, and helped Noah with his binder, both of them smiling. She picked out a purple one, and he grinned wider than she had seen him in weeks.

She was fifteen, and punching someone, because how dare they hurt her brother, how dare they hate someone who she loved. It was at a sunny field in Mooshu, and the person fell flat on their back.

She was sixteen, and she was a fool for not running. She got herself and the only person she cared about killed because she was a fool.

She was Haley Raintamer, and she didn’t fight back when a glowing silver knife slashed at her throat.

-

Merle Ambrose sighed, almost collapsing against the wall. Gamma flew in, carrying a potion in his talons. The old wizard gratefully drained the bottle. He held the neck of the bottle tightly, looking tired as a man can be.

“It went wh-ell, Merle!” The familiar said in faux cheerfulness. Both knew he was lying through his beak.

“Yes, Gamma. So much youth can be a hassle for me, however.” He said, staring at the body of the young storm wizard. It was slowly bleeding out, and the fingers were still twitching, likely due to her fruitless struggles against the power containment. Luckily, Merle was ingenious enough to make the container bounce the aggressor's magical power back against any physical attack.

“They would have made great allies. Alas, the girl decided to turn against me.” Merle smiled grimly.

“She would have been a wonderful asset indeed!” Gamma trilled.

“A true shame. Now, Gamma, it looks like we’re going to be doing the same old routine.”

Gamma nodded.

Just moments later, they stood in the tower, the model of the spiral moving delicately above their heads.

The girl woke up first, quiet and still. She always was more powerful.

“Sir, what’s going on?” She groaned tiredly.

“Ah, there will be time for that later, now- my vision is failing me child, and you took quite the fall. Who are you?” Ambrose said kindly.

“Wha-What?” She looked up at the headmaster.

“Let’s start like this- Are you a boy, or a girl?”

A First For Everything

A/N: I just needed to whip up something silly and smutty for 5/10 (Erekuri Day), so enjoy.

Historia never had time to visit her old friends back in the Survey Corps, but when she did, it was like heaven to her. All her old comrades welcomed their Queen with open arms. She kept in touch with most of her friends, but one kept replying to her back and forth more than the others.

Eren Jaeger wrote to her plenty of times before and after his missions. Ever since she was crowned as Queen, she kept herself busy by reading his letters. He wrote about what the Survey Corps were up to in regards to their progress on stopping Titans, behind the scenes antics, and personal feelings.

Hanji Zoe, Captain of the Survey Corps, spotted her walking across the hallway of the and ran up to her with a smile and an embrace.

“It’s so good to see you again.” Hanji said. Despite the missing eye from combat, she was still as eccentric and somewhat unhinged as ever. “So what brings you back to this old dump?” she asked.

“Truth be told,” Historia sighed, “I just needed to get away from my royal duties because they stress me out. I can’t sleep thanks to all the paperwork and bickering from government officials.”

“That seems like a bit much for you to handle.” Hanji remarked. 

“Has Eren been seen around here?” Historia asked.

“Not to my knowledge.” Hanji huffed. “I take it you want to see him?”

“You could say that.” Historia said with a rosy color blossoming on her cheeks.

“Now, Historia,” Hanji spoke in a more serious tone, “Has Eren ever written you any letters or texted you his feelings?”

“Absolutely.” Historia smiled. She wanted to just flat out say she loves him, but her thoughts were halted by Hanji opening her mouth.

“Has he ever sexted you?” Hanji asked.

Historia’s face flushed to a bright red hue.

“Sexted?” Historia asked. “But…I…don’t think that’s something highly suggested in front of a Queen.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about it.” Hanji chuckled.

“I’m fairly certain he hasn’t tried doing that.” Historia stammered.

“Then in that case,” Hanji smirked while pulling out her phone, “I think we oughta fix that.

Hanji typed on her phone a simple text to Levi and was kept busy with a string of texts.

Hanji: Hey, shortie. 

Levi: What, Cyclops?

Hanji: You see Eren walking around?

Levi: Nah. Need me to grab him?

Hanji: Yeah, it turns out he never sexted Historia before. Teach him the ropes.

Levi: Lol. What a pussy. Aight, 4-eyes, you got it.

Hanji: Thanks babe

Levi: You’re welcome

Hanji placed her phone back into her pocket and twiddled her thumbs in anticipation.

“What did you do?” Historia asked noticing the smile on Hanji’s face.

“Nothing.” Hanji smirked. “You should be getting a text very soon.

On the other side of the headquarters, Levi marched about looking for Eren and found him busy at his office. 

“My office.” Levi hissed. “Now…”

Eren was a bit nervous, but he went along with his commanding officer. Despite being shorter than him, Levi was no pushover in a fight due to being part of the Ackerman bloodline.

Levi closed the door and sat behind his desk. He couldn’t help but take his time with messing with Eren’s state of nervousness.

“Commander,” Eren stuttered after what seemed like an eternity of silence, “Is there something wrong?”

“Not entirely.” Levi sighed. “A little birdie told me you got pretty close with Historia and you never sexted.”

“Is that a problem?” Eren asked brushing his hair from his eyes. 

“No, but you need to know how to sext.” Levi said in a deadpan tone. “Personally, I think you should just send her a picture. Give me your phone.”

“What?” Eren asked.

“You heard me.” Levi huffed. “Also take your shirt off. Historia probably loves a six-pack.”

Eren sighed as he handed Levi his phone and took off his shirt. Levi’s eyes widened in surprise when he saw that Eren had a firm set of abs underneath his garments. Each one of his six abdominal muscles seemed to be sculpted from marble against the backdrop of tan colored skin.

“God dayum, Jaeger.” Levi chuckled. “Who knew you had that underneath?”

Levi took Eren’s phone and snapped a picture of his abs. 

“Now send that to Historia and bide your time.” Levi smirked.

Eren typed away and placed his phone on the desk.

Historia felt her phone vibrate as she kept talking with Hanji. She opened it up and let out a faint squeal as her face flushed from a rosy pink to a vibrant red.

Eren’s six-pack was on her screen and caused Historia’s mind to start racing with lewd thoughts.”

“Holy shit….” Historia gasped.

Hanji peeked over and started smiling as if she just found the cure to all the known diseases of mankind. 

“I gotta tell ya,” Hanji chuckled, “You got yourself a nice catch there.”

“But how do I respond to this?” Historia asked.

“Well, that depends.” Hanji replied.

“Depends on what?” Historia squeaked.

“It depends on wether Eren likes boobs or ass.”

“I don’t know….” Historia said.

“Just to be safe, I’d say send him a pic of your boobs.” Hanji smiled.

“Can I at least have some privacy?” Historia asked.

“Of course.” Hanji answered.

“And also…” Historia stammered. “A little bit of help with the pic.” 

Hanji’s eyes widened in excitement. “Anything for an old friend.” Hanji chuckled.

The two girls made their way to an empty storage room and planned a response. 

“Give me your phone.” Hanji whispered.

Historia gave her the phone and unbuttoned her blouse. She was a bit nervous exposing her bra underneath, but the thought of Eren get a peak of her breasts did entice her.

“That looks a bit expensive.” Hanji quips as she focuses the camera on the exposed bra.

“Well, being queen of humanity has its advantages.” Historia snarked back.

The camera made a snapping sound as Hanji took the image and Historia texted Eren.

Back in Levi’s office, Eren felt his phone buzz and he thought he was seeing heaven. On his screen was a picture of Historia’s breasts cradled by a frilly bra. He had no idea how to respond, but Levi could see the soldier in front of him trying to hide his thirst.

“She sent you something good?” Levi asked.

“Yeah…” Eren mutters.

“Tits or ass?” Levi asked.

“Tits.” Eren responded. “And she’s got on a fine looking bra.”

“Nice.” Levi smirked. “Now just text her to reel her in.”

Eren decided to spend a few minutes texting her.

Eren: I take it you like my pic?

Historia: Liked it? I loved it! I had now clue you had that underneath.

Eren: I had no clue your boobs were that big.

Historia: Shoosh

Historia: They just look bigger in that

Eren: Don’t be ridiculous. All boobs are great boobs.

Historia: Awwww, such a gentleman.

Eren: Anyway, you want to get together? I heard you’re here at the SC HQ

Historia: Right by the dining hall.

Eren: Be there in 5

Historia: <3

“I gotta go.” Eren said to Levi. 

“Fine.” Levi huffed. “Have fun with your lady and make sure you keep her happy.”

Eren dashed off to the dining hall excited as ever to see Historia.

Back in his office, Levi hears his phone ding as Hanji texts him.

Hanji: Did it work on your end?

Levi: Yup. Turns out Jaeger-Bomb is a slave for the tits.

Hanji: Not that I blame him. She’s able to afford that kind of lingerie.

Levi: Another job well done.

Hanji: No doubt about that

Levi and Hanji felt a swell of pride knowing that they managed to get Eren and Historia together. They knew that deep down, it was a plan that went better than they could ever hope.

Just reposting this

It was a cold and dreary night in the world of Lumen, the pitter-patter of rain falling on the armored helmets of two guards could be heard. The gates to heaven, or Tenebris as they call it, a large wall with millions of brick towers attached with a large steel gate in between, was what these two brutes dared to guard the world from. In the darkness, I was careful to keep the splashing of my feet wading through the flooded water of the black top road to a minimum. They mustn’t hear me. The two began to converse, one turning to the other, muttering, “hey, have you heard of the druid boy?”

“Everyone on this side of the earth has heard of Bong-Ju, why?” the other guard replied, waving one of his camouflaged, buff arm, the other occupied by a gun. “I could use that” I thought to myself, hiding behind a bush, shivering, anticipating the moment I would take those guards down.

“I heard that he’s trying to escape to Tenebris. You know, the place where the scum live?”

“Scum like him? I doubt it. Why would he want to go there if that place just has a bunch of monsters.”

“Well, if he is coming, we should be ready.” The two soldiers were unaware of my presence as I plan a smoke grenade right under their noses. The egg shaped grenade rolled out of my hand, floating directly in between the two soldiers. Four seconds… Three seconds… Two seconds… one second… Boom! The grenade bursted, the two soldiers squealing like the pigs they are. I tugged the gun out of the left man’s hands, a glowing inferno exploding out of my hand, destroying the gate before I ran to my freedom in Tenebris. I am The Druid Boy of Lumen, a scoorage amongst the angels.

-------The Dullahan of Tenebris POV-------------------------------------------------------------------------

I tousle my cotton-candy pink hair in anticipation as I walk out of the plane and through a corridor leading to the inside of the airport, the normals, they stare upwards to see my always severed head in my hands. Their eyes widened and they began to shake as a great burst of flame came from where they thought my head should be. They pointed at me, screaming as if they were in excruciating pain and my very existence pained them to the point where they had the nerve to call me out. “Stop it with the screaming!” I yelled at the group, the inferno growing larger and larger until I felt a hand on my shoulder. This hand was soft, yet it was firm and that of sheer discipline. It felt so familiar…

“Xannie, leave them be, they just immigrated from Lumen, so they wouldn’t know what we’re like,” a woman, with my same wavy cotton candy hair, turned me around so I would face her. She was about a foot shorter than I was and had beautiful sun kissed skin. She was my mother. The only person I had in my life. Mom escorted me toward the baggage pickup area, demi-humans on every corner. I saw vampires, yokai, ghosts, sirens, cyclopes, giants, even a few centaurs. However, one centaur stook out to me, she eagerly clippity-clopped as her luggage finally arrived to her arms. The bag was HUGE, large enough to fit a horse! It was a wonder that some normal construction worker built the conveyor belt for something that big. Her luminous chestnut brown hair waved along with her movements as she seemed to gracefully lift the large baggage, a fellow centaur, seemingly her mother shown by her perfect posture and old shoulder padded dress from the 70’s said, “Hana, are you sure you can handle this? Your father and I can help.” ‘Hana’s’ supposed mother folded her hands as if she was about to pray.

“No thanks mom, I can handle this on my own,” Hana replied as she eagerly lugged her bags along, eventually spotting me. I turned my attention to my baggage, a large midnight black bag with wheels and an extendable handle. It floated above me, seemingly on it’s own accord, but, as if on instinct, I turned to the centaur girl, who held her hands toward the bag, clenching her teeth as if she was lifting it via telekinesis. The bag fell with a slam onto the floor in front of my size 14 feet, the handle facing the smoke resonating from my neck. “Hey!” I heard Hana’s voice say as her heavy panting got closer and closer to me.

“.....” I said nothing, staring up to see her smiling… at me? I fiddled with the itchy collar of my white button-up shirt, sweating and tapping my foot against the white tiled flooring. My glasses slipped off of my face, her hand gently clasping them in her shapely hand and handed them to me.

“You could’ve been in big trouble if these fell. My name is Hana, what’s your name mister?” her sparkling grey eyes glimmered with wonder and curiosity as her pointed ears twitched like that of a cat waiting for the right moment to pounce on a laser pointer.

“I-I Uhh… My name is Xanthus, b-but please call me Xannie.” I stuttered, my right hand taking the glasses, my muscular arm extending toward her. I quickly put my glasses on and lifted my head up to face her.

“Ooo!” she giggled harmoniously, my tanned face turning a slight shade of pink. “You’re quite tall if you can surpass a centaur, even though your head isn’t on your neck.” I clenched my fist, my eyes widening in disgust. Was this girl like the rest of them? “Oh dear, I hit a nerve, my apologies, Xannie was it?” she exclaimed, waving her hands in front of her, her expression frantic.

“Don’t worry, just don’t mention it to me again..” I replied. A shadow creeped up behind her, a cloak draped over their face. I could make out a face, in the darkness of the hood, it’s cheeks marked in red. It had markings? Yes, but these markings weren’t any ordinary face paint. The sideways crimson crescents glowed ominously in the shadow… These markings were those of a druid. It seemed to notice my staring, quickly fleeing out the automatic doors of the airport.

“What’re you looking at?” Hana asked, trying to look where I was look, which was towards the exit, advertisements for fast food and the airport itself on the doors.

“Druid…” I whispered, before rolling my bags’ wheels on the dingey star-patterned carpets towards the door, hana following soon after, gasping out in fear.

“You don’t mean The Druid of Lumen?” I froze. The Druid of Lumen was some silly urban legend about a young druid who lurked the streets of Lumen, trying to avoid execution and to escape. He did everything he possibly could, stealing from merchants, even killing when he was desperate. He was considered a symbol of freedom for the people suffering in Lumen, for the ones who could think for themselves, and for the demi-humans.

“Why would he be here?” I asked myself, wondering what would bring him to Orlando, Florida. “He got all the way here from Lumen?” I strutted out the doors, turning my head around to maximize my vision of the area. The Druid was gone… there was only a parking lot buzzing with the honks of cars and the yelling of raging drivers. Once again, I felt that same hand on my shoulder, my head turning to face my mother.

“Xannie, lets just go home now, it’s time…” My mother sighed, escorting me away to her rental toyota. I waved Hana goodbye as we temporarily parted ways.

------------The Druid Of Lumen POV------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I jumped into a taxi the second I found one, the driver saying, “where are you going?”. The car was suffocatingly hot, and a incredibly dingey. Did this guy even bother to take care of his car? I plugged my nose, trying to ignore all the nonsense just this once.

“Take me to the nearest hotel or homeless shelter,” I replied, my face grimacing in disgust, pinching my nose to avoid the smell of rotten eggs and pizza crust. The man simply nodded at my request and began to drive. A cold sweat dripped down the back of his thick neck, his short, partially shaved, curly blond hair drenched from the heat, as I tap my nimble fingers against my lap, patiently anticipating potential betrayal. Back in Lumen, you couldn’t trust anyone, unless they were rebelling alongside you, but here, who knows if I could trust anyone. We passed through the security of the airport to leave the place, the driver reached out his sweaty and bruised arm (Why would this man be so scarred?), placing a card into the slot and pulling it out soon after.

“So, you’re The Druid of Lumen?” the driver asked, as he turned the greyish steering wheel to the left out of the parking lot.

“If I said I was, what would you do about it, mister?” I grimaced, my face and body radiating with heat as I waited for an answer.

“I would say that I’m sorry for the smell, I was reassigned this car for work and well, the last person who drove this didn’t take good care of it.”

“So you wouldn’t take me back to Lumen?” I squinted at him, still suspicious of this mysterious driver until I noticed the bull horns protruding from his skull. That’s when I realized, this wasn’t a normal this was a Demi-Human, a Minotaur to be specific.

“No way! You’re a hero here, a sign of freedom!” The driver’s olive toned, tan face became visible to me in the mirror hanging from the car ceiling. His pretty green eyes glimmered with hope and inspiration, like he idolized me.

“I don’t want you to freak out, but I am The Druid of Lumen.” He gasped, a grin stretching across his face. He radiated no malice, only genuine happiness and excitement.

“Yessir! I won’t fr-freak out! B-By the way, I’m Nuona!” The man, now I know is Nuona, drove by several lights, looking like stars in a line. Stars. I want to reach the stars. I pressed my face against the car window as we passed three other cars, each different in their own ways. Whether it be color, structure, or license plate, they weren’t the same. We eventually drove up to a large building with a sign by it saying “hotel” by it in fancy bold lettering. “Here is where we stop sir. Here’s my number, call me whenever you need my services again!” Nuona says as he handed me a piece of paper with a bunch of numbers and dashes. I felt confused, looking up at him with my glowing eyes wrinkling at the edges from a grin stretching across my face. Maybe I needed to input this number into a phone? I didn’t know. I opened the door with a creak, waving the young minotaur a goodbye before strutting towards the hotel. “He was kinda cute” I thought to myself, shaking it off as I opened the door to the hotel.

--------------Dullahan of Tenebris POV-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

I walked into the kitchen of our new and empty house. The counter-tops of white marble looked as if they were to fall off the wooden bases. Crumbling. Like porcelain. The white and blue checkered flooring gave a sense of home. “Our home in crete had the same colors as these,” I thought to myself. My grip on my head loosened. I must look. Look at home.

“Xanthus!” My mother yelled, my grip becoming firm once more, “Isn’t this place great? It’s smaller but at least you won’t have to work so hard to support me..” She put a hand on my shoulder, leading me to a large window. The window lead to our backyard which was full of roses, carnations, lotus’s,- in short, it was like a garden of eden. “Look here, this is the beauty of a new life.”

“It’s a fresh start, mom. I’m glad I can live this new life with you,” I say, in awe of the beauty of our backyard. I pressed my face against the window. The colors. They were so much. A rainbow of flowers and plants of all kinds. The sun shined upon me, everything feeling so fresh, making me want to live here. I felt ready for whatever was going to be thrown at me.

Boy was I wrong.

chapter thirteen—men are pigs

read Child of Land and Sea here

Act II — Heart Of The Ocean

Part V — Now it’s happened, once or twice, someone couldn’t pay the price.

“Welcome!” said the lady with the clipboard. She spoke like a presenter and dressed like a flight attendant. “Is this your first time with us?”

“Yes,” Andy said looking around the tropical island where they had landed.

The woman looked them up and down critically. “A herbal wrap to start for the young lady. And of course, a complete makeover for the young man.”

“A what?” Anthony asked bemused.

She was too busy to answer. “Are you two a couple?” she asked suspiciously.

Andy and Anthony did their best not to look at each other. “No,” he answered.

“All the better,” the lady declared.

“Why is that better?” Andy asked, but the woman was no longer listening.

“Right!” she said with a breezy smile. “I’m sure C.C. will want to speak with you personally before the luau. Come with me, please.”

They followed her in their guards in case she turned into a giant snake or something. The place was amazing though. Everything was beautiful. There were all kinds of animals and they all looked peaceful enough. As they headed up a staircase, they heard a woman singing, her voice like a lullaby. They came into a big room where the whole front wall was covered in mirrors.

She sat at a loom. Her dark hair was braided with threads of gold and she had piercing green eyes. The hostess smiled as they introduced themselves. She looked at Anthony with a twinge of disapproval and said, “Oh, dear, you desperately need my help.”

“He does?” Andy asked giving him the once-over and not finding anything reproachable.

“Of course,” she said, and Andy believed her. “Surely he isn’t happy the way he is. My goodness, there’s not a single person who is. But don’t worry. We can improve anyone here at the spa. We’ll make your outsides reflect who you are inside.” She stood and guided Anthony toward the mirror. “You see, to unlock your potential, first you need to admit that you’re not happy the way you are.”

“I’m perfectly pleased with myself,” he said crossing his arms but sounding just a little unsure.

C.C. was not convinced. “Have you ever been love, Anthony?” she whispered in this strange, cruel way. He stiffened and didn’t answer. “You have that longing in your eyes. Do you think she’ll ever love you back? Just like that? You think it’s that easy to get a woman’s heart?”

The smell of incense was making Andy’s head spin a little, but somewhere deep in her mind she thought C.C. was being a little mean. “Well, now,” she said, “I think he looks good. There’s nothing really wrong with-”

“You have to decide, Anthony,” C.C. interrupted, voice vibrating with poison, “if you’re going to trust her judgment or mine.”

“Your judgment,” he said as if in a trance.

C.C. smiled and snapped her fingers making a glass filled with some sort of golden liquid appear in his hand. “Drink it,” she told him.

Andy had a bad feeling about that. “Wait-” she started to say, but Anthony lifted the glass to his lips. Then he doubled over and dropped the cup. “What did you give him?” she asked C.C. Anthony’s hands shriveled, curled, grew long delicate claws. Fur sprouted on his face, under his shirt. His teeth grew and he shrunk.

Andy knelt on the floor beside the tiny guinea pig. The chock was so great she no longer felt dizzy.

“I’ve made him better, dear,” said C.C.

“Oh, yeah. He looks truly irresistible now!” Andy shouted.

“Reet, reet, reet,” Anthony said.

“Men are pigs, Andromeda,” C.C. declared. “I used to turn them into real pigs, but they smelled too bad. Well, no different than before. Am I right?” she laughed kneeling beside Andy. “Now you, my dear Andromeda, has the makings of a sorceress. Like me. My mother is Hecate, the goddess of magic. Neither of us should stand in the shadow of men.”

Andy caught Anthony in her hands.

“Stay with me, child of land and sea,” asked the sorceress. “Study with me. Learn to bend others to your will. You shall become immortal!”

“But-”

“How many great female half-blood heroes can you name?” C.C. asked. “Men get all the glory. It is up to us to put them back where they belong.”

“C.C…” Andy muttered, working her brain. “You’re Circe.” She backed away and the woman laughed louder.

“Nothing to fear, dear girl. I mean you no harm.”

“Bring him back.”

“This is his true form, Andromeda.”

“You don’t know him!” Andy said holding Anthony protectively. “Okay, look… He-he’s not so bad,” she consented. “And I’ll deny I ever said this but…” Andy sighed. “He’s kind and brave and… I mean, there are times when I just want to punch him, but he’s nothing like a pig, you know? Or a guinea pig, for that matter. So if you could just bring him back, we’ll be on our way-”

“Forget the boy,” Circe said. “Join me and learn the ways of sorcery. Your friend will be well cared for. And you’ll have all you ever wanted, Andromeda.”

“What if what I want-”

“You don’t want him,” Circe giggled as if the idea was preposterous. “Trust me. Been there, done that. Let it go, Andromeda. Of all the men that caused you pain. Your father. Your stepfather. Luke,” she said the name so softly it was barely a whisper.

Andy realized she was getting nowhere here. She took a deep breath and gave in. “Okay,” she said at last. “Can I… Can I have like a minute with him? Just to… say goodbye?”

Circe was glad. “Of course.” She left the room and Andy heard the door being locked. All the better.

She put Anthony down and rummaged her pockets for Hermes’ vitamins. She popped a lemon chewable in her mouth just as the door flew open and Circe came back in. “Your minute is over, dear.”

Andy stood up and uncapped Riptide. The sorceress stepped back, but her surprise quickly passed.

“Really, Andromeda, a sword against my magic?” Blue fire coiled from her fingers curling like serpents around Andy. She tried to fight it, but no use, the magic wasn’t affecting her. Andy leaped forward and stuck the sword against Circe’s neck.

“How!” the sorceress yelled.

“Turn him back!”

“I can’t!”

Exasperated, Andy did the only thing she could think of: took another vitamin from her pocket and threw it to where Anthony was.

“Oh, I see,” said Circe. “Curse Hermes and his multivitamins! Wait-what are you doing, Andromeda?” Andy ignored her and headed to the other table where there was a cage filled with other guinea pigs and gave them the rest of the vitamins. “No, you don’t understand!” shouted Circe. “Those are the worst!”

The cage exploded and six guys appeared looking disoriented, blinking and shaking wood shavings out of their hair. Andy glanced back and saw Anthony sitting on the ground looking shaky but as his usual cute self.

One of the men stood up – a huge guy with a long tangled pitch-black beard and teeth the same color. “Argggh!” he bellowed. “What’s the witch done t'me!”

“No,” Circe moaned.

Anthony gasped pointing at the man. “You’re Edward Teach, son of Ares!”

“Aye,” said the guy. “Though most call me Blackbeard! And there’s the sorceress what captured us, lads. Run her through, and then I mean to find me a big bowl of celery!”

Circe screamed and ran and was chased by the pirates. Andy capped Riptide. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” he said getting up from the ground. “I’m sorry-” he started to say, but Andy tackled him with a hug.

“Ughh, Wonder Guinea Pig just doesn’t work for me,” she told him.

He smiled. “Thanks, Seaweed Brain. Now let’s get out of here.”

While the pirates ransacked the island, Anthony and Andy stole a sailing vessel – the Queen Anne’s Revenge. Andy saw Blackbeard shouting that the ship was his, but she didn’t care. She had already gave him his life back. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the waves and the ship started moving. The ship responded to her every command.

“How are you doing that?” asked Anthony.

She shrugged. The Queen Anne’s Revenge lurched forward away from the dock. Andy had finally found something she was good at. She knew which ropes to hoist, which sails to raise, which direction to steer. It all felt perfect, the wind in her face, the waves breaking over the prow.

They sailed through the night, counting stars together.

“I never thanked you,” Anthony said, suddenly, as they sat on the deck side by side. “For what you said to Circe about me.”

Andy glanced at him shocked. “You heard that?!” she thanked the gods it was dark and he couldn’t see her face steaming. “Boy, this just got awkward.” He chuckled. “Well, since that happened,” she took the chance, “can I ask you something personal?”

“I guess you deserve a straight answer,” he said and she felt the air around him tensing.

“Why do you hate Cyclops so much?” she asked studying his face.

“Oh.” Anthony seemed to relax like that wasn’t the question he’d anticipated. “Alright. Uh… the night Grover was escorting us to camp, he got confused, took some wrong turns. He told you that, remember?” Andy nodded. “Well, he mistakenly took us to a Cyclops’ lair in Brooklyn. He tricked us, the… the thing. He split us up inside this maze of corridors in an old house in Flatbush. And he… he could sound like anyone, Andy. He lured us, one at time. Thalia thought she was running to save Luke. Luke thought he heard me call for help. And me… Well, I was alone in the dark. I couldn’t find a way out. It completely crept me out.” Anthony paused to breathe. “I remember finding the main room. There were bones all over the floor. And… Thalia, Luke and Grover were tied up and gagged, hanging from the ceiling. The Cyclops was starting a fire. He saw me and… When he s-spoke, he somehow knew my dad’s voice. He said, ‘Don’t worry, Tony. I love you. You can stay here with me. You can stay here forever.’”

Andy shivered at that horrible tale. “What did you do?”

“I stabbed him in the foot,” he said simply.

She stared at him. “You were nine years old and you stabbed a grown Cyclops in the foot? Damn.”

“He would’ve killed me. I surprised him,” he explained. “It gave me enough time to untie Thalia. She took it from there.”

“Damn.” Andy repeated astonished.

Anthony ignored her, but she had a feeling he was grinning. “We barely got out alive. I still have nightmares, Andy. And I should confess, I’m not a great fan of the dark. The way it talked in my father’s voice… It was its fault we took so long to get to Camp Half-Blood. It was its fault Thalia died.”

They watched for a minute the Hercules constellation rise in the night sky in silence.

Then something changed.

Andy could barely make out the island ahead of them – just a dark spot in the mist. Everything turned eerie. There was the faintest music ringing through the air. When Andy saw them, she knew it was too late. They were like a flock of vultures the size of people – with dirty black plumage, gray talons, and wrinkled pink necks. Their mouths moved and a beautiful sound came out.

“Anthony?” she called in the dark. “Maybe we should-”

But Anthony’s face had gone blank. He stared at the Sirens and his eyes widened. He stood up and headed toward them. Andy grabbed his arm. He pushed her away.

“What are you doing?” But she saw it in his eyes, the message was clear: he needed to get to them. He pushed Andy aside and started running.

Andy rolled her eyes.

Men!!!!!!!!!!!

Maybe Circe had been right about them after all.

Andy rushed to the side of the boat and jumped after him. Anthony was swimming for his dear life. He was a strong swimmer and made past the mines and the rocks. Andy propelled herself forward and grabbed him.

The moment she touched him, a shock went through her body, and she saw what the Sirens were showing him. Four people sat on a picnic blanket in Central Park – Athena, Anthony’s father, Anthony himself and Luke. The whole scene glowed in a warm, buttery light. Luke and Anthony were teasing, shoving each other like brothers do, like they were still brothers, as if Luke had never betrayed Anthony. Athena was holding Mr Chase’s hand. Behind them, a city skyline rose. It was Manhattan, but it also wasn’t. It was Anthony’s Manhattan, the way he would’ve designed it.

Andy blinked and returned to reality. She pulled Anthony closer. He tried to fight her and she knew not even a kiss would make him snap out of this. She willed the currents to carry them out into the bay. Anthony hit her in the face with his head almost breaking her nose. Cursing, she went underwater and pushed him down with her.

As soon as his head submerged, he stopped struggling.

Knowing that it was the only way, Andy kept pulling him down. Anthony struggled for breath now. Andy focused until she had made a huge bubble of air around them. Anthony gasped and coughed. His body shuddered, but when he looked at her, Andy knew the spell had been broken.

The terror in his eyes was enough to break her heart. He mashed their bodies together, embracing her as if he wanted to merge them into one being. He put his head on her shoulder and his body trembled. He was definitely not having a very good week.

When he stopped shaking, she took them back up and they climbed back aboard the Queen Anne’s Revenge.

The sun was rising and everything was quiet now. The fog had burned away to a blue sky as if the island of the Sirens had never existed. Anthony sat huddled in a blanket on the forward deck. Finally, he looked up at her and apologized.

Andy sat beside him. “You have nothing to be sorry about.”

“I’m an idiot,” he said, as if that explained everything.

“Well, duh,” she said trying to make him laugh. Didn’t work.

“I couldn’t resist Circe. I couldn’t resist the Sirens. I’m not helping you very much here.”

“Well, you are a man. Don’t forget the lesson of the day: men are pigs,” she jested but Anthony merely stared at her with the look of a sad child who thought he deserved to be punished. Andy took his hand. “I saw what you did to Manhattan,” she admitted encouragingly.

The color left his face. “You saw that?”

“What he said to you back on the Princess Andromeda… About starting the world from scratch… I could see you were tempted. He knew it would get to you, didn’t he?”

“My fatal flaw,” he said apologetically. “That’s what Luke preyed on. That’s what the Sirens showed me. My fatal flaw is hubris.”

“That brown stuff they spread on veggie sandwiches?”

Even in his sadness, Anthony managed to roll his eyes. “No, Seaweed Brain, that’s hummus. Hubris is worse.”

“What could be worse than hummus?” she asked disgusted.

“Hubris means deadly pride, Andy,” Anthony said, and he sounded truly embarrassed. “Thinking you can do things better than anyone else… even the gods.”

“You feel that way?”

He looked down. “Don’t you ever feel like, what if the world really is messed up? What if we could do it all over again from scratch? No more war. Nobody homeless. I mean, the West represents a lot of the best things mankind ever did – that’s why the fire is still burning. That’s why Olympus is still around. But sometimes you just see the bad stuff, you know? And you start thinking the way Luke does: 'If I could tear this all down, I would do it better.’ Don’t you ever feel that way? Like you could do a better job if you ran the world?”

Andy almost laughed. “No! I’m a mess, Wonder Boy. A world run by me? That’s a big no-no.”

“Then you’re lucky. Hubris isn’t your fatal flaw.”

“What is?”

“I don’t know, Andy, but every hero has one. If you don’t find it and learn to control it… well, they don’t call it 'fatal’ for nothing.”

“Why didn’t the Sirens tempt me?” she asked.

“Like Circe, they like to punish men. Or better saying, eat them.”

“Oh, what fun. Well, don’t you worry, Wonder Boy. Nobody’s eating you under my watch. That’s a promise.”

Anthony gave a sad, sad smile. Then he looked up and his eyes widened. “Andy.”

She turned. Up ahead was another blotch of land – a saddle-shaped island with forested hills and white beaches and green meadows. Her nautical senses confirmed it. They had reached the home of the Cyclops.