#my characters now

[kastalani123]

(if you prefer Ao3)

They learn about it in the slowly bubbling, uncertain high of victory.

She died a hero, Clarisse says, repeats, convinces, closing Drew’s hands around a bracelet far too innocent to make everyone’s hearts sink with just a glance. Its silver colour is barely visible beneath the blood. Drew’s hands were already long slick with crimson. She doesn’t say anything.

(The daughter of Ares tells them the story as they pick up their other fallen siblings. Nobody responds)

Fuchsia with an apple for Anders, seventeen and the loveliest relationship advisor. Lacy only manages a few words through her sobs and tears, her hair still in the intricate but effective braid he had put it in before battle.

Coral with a conch shell for Khalid, twelve with a love for anything one could find at the bottom of the ocean. Valentina grips his stuffed anglerfish so tightly that she almost tears it while making her speech about him.

Salmon with a thorned rose for Ina, fifteen and the best fighter in the cabin. Mitchell can barely stand while talking, choked by having been unable to retrieve more of her than a gnarled arm, recognizable only through the heart-shaped birthmark spanning the back of her hand.

Magenta with a dove for Sawyer, fourteen with the kindest eyes in the world. Drew lays the sword they had never wanted in the fire and watches it melt into perfumed smoke without a word.

Cerise with flowering myrtle for Jasmin, sixteen and the craftiest painter around. Aminah bites her knuckles to the blood in a failed attempt not to cry when the burning paints colour the fire in impossible hues.

… Hot pink with an electric spear for Silena. Clarisse sets the fire with a blank face, dried tear tracks gouging grooves down her cheeks.

(A grief-stained title of cabin counsellor for Drew, fourteen with the weight of her world suddenly on her shoulders. Cabin Ten cannot keep her from turning her head high, eyeliner sharper than it’s been in years.)

----------

It’s not Drew who orders all signs of Silena Beauregard to be scrubbed from the insides of Cabin Ten. 

Instead, Mitchell passes through the cabin while the others haunt around Camp like the ghosts they had avoided becoming. Carefully, carefully, he folds up Silena’s fashionista posters, picks pictures of her off the clothing clips on the strings strung up throughout the cabin, strips her bed of the flower pillows they’d all collaborated to get for her last (final) birthday, collects clothes from her section of shelves and drawers, and packs everything with even a trace of her into the suitcase under his bed. Grief echoes off the bare spaces, sandalwood perfume soaking into the walls, a vestige of one of the many lives struck short these past several days.

His siblings don’t say anything when they finally come and find him curled up on Ina’s bed, clutching her morning star plush like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to his body, the entire cabin missing key elements. Drew starts to get ready for bed, Aminah throws herself onto Jasmin’s bed and shatters, Lacy tears her hair free of Anders’s braid with a wail, and Valentina screams into Khalid’s pillows until her voice is hoarse. Mitchell swears he hears similar sounds from the other cabins.

(Rory comes the next day, backpack full of clothing designs he hadn’t bothered to unpack in his rush upon hearing about the strange happenings in New York. He takes one look at his siblings’ hollowed faces, at the bare beds, at the empty spaces, and breaks, begging for forgiveness for not being there to fight along their sides, for not protecting them like an older brother should, for working on his college projects while they fought and died for the world. Drew scoffs, lips perfectly painted, and says there’s a reason they didn’t tell him war was brewing over their last Iris Message. The others pile onto him, cursing and crying and trying to keep themselves from falling into pieces.)

----------

Officially, Silena Beauregard is a hero. She had been burned with laurel wreaths, and offerings were tossed into the fire to aid her journey to Elysium. Her photo has been put up in the Big House alongside many others, and even Mr D managed not to butcher “Silena Beauregard” for once, prompted by a centaur kick. Her name is whispered under the topic of the ultimate sacrifice, of the power of love, of the bravery of unexpected leaders.

Unofficially, the only one who speaks her name with pure reverence is Clarisse La Rue, and no one says it with such vitriol as Drew Tanaka. Her spy bracelet, still drenched in blood, has been hurled against a wall and remains hidden and gathering dust under her bed. Her cabin has been scrubbed clean of any mentions of her, her name unspoken in fear of Drew’s newfound cruelty.

(Drew builds back up the walls her siblings had dismantled with so much care, taller and thicker than ever before.)

(Mitchell retreats back into himself, the skittishness he had worked so hard to shed shrouding him in full force once again.)

(Lacy melts into the crowd like never before, burying her voice beneath a blanket of sorrow.)

(Valentina ditches her soft colours and loose wardrobe, forcing attention onto her new tastefully torn jeans and bold shades and away from her wail-wrecked throat.)

(Aminah tugs her grief tight around herself and leaves with the summer, her goodbye lacking a definitive “see you later”.)

----------

Two boys, adorned in pearls and guided by geese, arrive in a cabin full but hollow, plagued by dead siblings and a traitorous hero. Twins, they are, nine years old and unknowing of the carnage of war, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Drew scoffs and scolds but leaves them to her remaining siblings, for her sharp tongue has never been suited for introductions, and even in the wake of her death-stained rule, she will not dare shut children down so soon after arrival.

Names of all the ghosts haunting the cabin become unspoken, none willing to explain them and blemish the twins’ innocence.

It does not work.

Not when Lev walks in on Lacy sorting and resorting dozens of vials of perfumes with shaking hands and trembling breaths. Not when Ren asks Valentina about the night sky painted on the wall over an empty bed and she shuts down entirely for the rest of the day. Not when Lev holds up a mirror to help Mitchel neaten up the impulsive haircut he had given himself after a game of Capture the Flag. Not when Ren catches Drew in a screaming match with another camper over a girl he had never heard about.

Not when something weighs heavily over the empty spaces in the cabin, over the necks of their newfound siblings.

So they ask someone else.

Clarisse La Rue. Will Solace. Connor Stoll. Nyssa Barrera. Malcolm Pace.

Slowly, slowly, they collect pieces, find ways to fit them together, compare conflicting accounts. They get the story of clashing metal, raging fire, slithering scales. A frightful fairytale, starring their fellow campers as the main characters. The missing limbs, the overabundance of scars, the paranoid glances — it all clicks together, and the uncomfortable hollowness of Camp Half-Blood is suddenly apparent.

(Eventually, they ask about their own Cabin’s side of the story.)

(They receive no answer beyond solemn looks and half-hearted shrugs.)

----------

Piper McLean falls from the sky, crashing straight through the fragile roof of the system Cabin Ten has established for itself the moment she bursts with pink light.

She is… argumentative. Unwilling to cram herself into the tattered tapestry of their Cabin the war had left behind. Determined to be different, to stand out, to raise her hackles at those around her. Filled with an anger towards the paints and ruffles her siblings wrap themselves in, and unconcerned with not letting it spill over and burn them.

She challenges Drew, and they cheer.

(Will the sister-that-never-left finally come back to them?)

Drew scoffs and huffs, sharpens her nails on the sound of Piper’s voice, but does not fight.

(They have fought for so long, and she is tired, and maybe an older kid with none of the wounds that mar the rest of them is needed in Cabin Ten.)

(Within a month, Drew wrenches permission for them to leave Camp for a shopping trip out of Chiron, and they know she is coming back.)

[tanjir0se]

Knowing absolutely nothing about Sanemi and Genya and their arc or past or dynamic and just barreling right on ahead into writing 20k words about them anyway like

[handsome-john]

Manndraki is so real to me btw I made up everything I think is cool about them

[teethbomb]

hehehehehehe

[blueflyingturtleontheway]

touching prompt 42 for gabe and isa please !!

"It's fine, this is fine, everything's fine," Isa repeated under her breath as she paced around her room. She had already changed into the right dress, packed the present and left the guitardeon by the door so she wouldn't forget it. There were still two hours to the party, so substracting the time needed to drive to Amara's house and the braiding itself, it still left Elena over an hour to get there.

A sudden knock on the door pulled her out of her thoughts.

"Come in!" she called out and sighed in relief at the same time. "Finally, I was afraid you wouldn't- oh it's you Gabe." Her shoulders immediately dropped when she noticed him walking in.

"Uh, yeah I wanted to tell you I just got a message from Elena, she said the meeting is dragging on and she probably won't be able to come back as soon as she had hoped. Is... everything alright?" He asked as Isa flopped into a chair and loudly dropped her head on her dressing table.

"Everything's just splendind," her voice was muffled by the wood. She heaved a deep sigh and finally leaned back on the chair. "I just really hoped Elena would help me with my hair."

"Oh," Gabe scratched the back of his head. "Should I call the royal hairdresser?"

"No, no, I don't want it to be that fancy." Isa quickly shook her head. "It's not such a big deal anyway."

"Than maybe I could go get your abuela?"

Isa shook her head again.

"No, she went out with abuelo today, so you wouldn't find her anyway." She sighed again. "I suppose I'll just go" she flung her arms out and let them flop back into her lap "like this."

"Well... maybe I could be of some help?" Gabe finally offered, hesitantly.

Isabel slowly raised her head only to send him an incredulous look.

"you could be of some help... with my hair," she asked him carefully, like you'd ask someone who just said that iron is lighter than copper. "You do realize I'm talking about briding my hair for a party."

"Yeah," Gabe chuckled nervously. He was starting to regret his offer.

"Do you even know how to braid hair? Or... Do a crown braid, for example?" She still sounded unsure, but he could hear a tiny bit of hope sneaking into her voice.

He exhaled quickly and called on his best smile.

"There's only one way to find out, isn't there?"

Slowly, almost against herself, Isa returned his smile and excitement sparkled in her eyes.

"Now do you have like, a drawing of this hairstyle or something?" Gabe clapped his hands walking over to the dressing table. "I might be a bit out of practice, but growing up with my cousins we often..."

A few hours later

"Wait, are you talking about a real hen? A real, living hen? And it just stayed there?"

"Yup," Gabe's voice was muffled by the hairpins he held in his mouth. "Of course we thought about going back and - hold this for a moment now" he interrupted quickly handing her another strand of hair. "We thought about going back and looking for the owner to give it back, but honestly, we had no idea where it even actually came from. Add to that all the trouble with mooring the raft, then walking probably a whole day upstream - and anyway we wouldn't leave it for so long, we were extremely paranoic someone would steal it, though realistically speaking I don't think anyone would even want to steal it," they both chuckled "but the thing is, we had no idea where it could even come from. I mean almost everyone there keeps chickens, so if we'd go and..."

"I'M SO SORRY I TRIED TO LEAVE AS SOON AS" the door slammed into the wall, pushed with the power of a hundred typhoons, revealing Elena, with a frantic look in her eyes. "Possible..." her voice trailed off as she took in the scene before her.

Isa was seated on the floor, her dress carefully evened out so it wouldn't crinkle, and she held her head tilted a little forward so Gabe - Gabe - (Elena rubbed her eyes here to make sure she wasn't hallucinating) was sitting on the bed above her and braiding her head.

"Hi, Elena." He waved to her quickly with his free hand.

"Don't worry," said Isa. "Gabe told me you'll be late, but luckily he could help me with my hair do."

"I mean, I don't know how to a crown braid, but Isa said two braids connecting into a low bun will be good enough, so." He fell silent for a moment, pinned down a few last strands of Isa's hair and finally leaned down. "Alright, I'm finished! Let's see how it looks like from the front though."

Isa let out an enthusiastic "woohoo!" and they both walked up to the big mirror by the wardrobe.

Elena finally recoverd from her shock and also waled by to them, looking over her sister's hair.

"Are saying you did all this? I mean you can actually... do hair nicely? Honestly I wouldn't suspect you actually knew your way around elegance..." she mused, looking between Gabe and Isa.

"No, I'm pretty sure Gabe actually got under some spell of Mateo's, but I'm not complaining for now," she said, beaming at her reflection.

"Why do my talents always go unrecognized," he shook his head and chuckled.

Okay this is much longer than the other ones, but IT WAS A TRAP YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I LOVE GABE AND ISA.

Prompt lists

[abluescarfonwaston]

I have never needed to run out and offer a character my jacket as much as Naoto Shiragane during the beauty pageant. Someone give this kid their binder (That they wear IN CANON) back right now.

I need to protect this little trans baby so bad.

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

[charbroiledchicken]

"you're the writer, you control how the story goes" no not really. i wrote the first sentence and then my characters said "WE WILL TAKE IT FROM HERE" and promptly swerved into an electrical fence.

[churroach]

Full of Desires

[hamletthedane]

The movie Wicked is proof that any source material can be vastly improved by simply making the intense female friendship much gayer + the mutual male love interest both wildly bisexual and lowkey down to just be their third

[beebfreeb]

[noodles-and-tea]

Continuation of this

[tanjir0se]

Writing Genya and Sanemi actually bantering playfully instead of arguing and fighting 🥹🥹🥹 writing them laughing and bonding over their shared trauma instead of ignoring it 🥹🥹🥹🥹even them teasing each other about tanjiro and Giyuu respectively because Sanemi can’t hide from Genya any more than Genya can hide from him and of course he clocked it 🥹🥹 I’m literally so fucked I’m so fucked chat

[ionomycin]

your last light

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Hey now, Let her cook!

[upon-the-snow]

I can’t believe it took me this long to draw her!