#pjo Miranda Gardiner

[bugwolfsstuff]

Headcanon that the Demeter girls (Miranda and Katie) sing really badly but their boyfriends (Sherman and Travis) act like they sing like angels

They arent even pretending for the girls feelings they genuinely love it that much

[mediumgayitalian]

“Hello, twerp.”

Kayla grunts at him. She is focused, intently, on something small enough to be covered up by her hands and curtaining hair; Nico decides it is likely some kind of explosive. There is a reason she, Banned From Arts ‘n’ Crafts For Criminal Reasons, is sneaking into the Hermes’ cabin’s time slot and hiding behind Julia.

Instead of confirming that she is, indeed, planning to blow up at least one of her brothers’ bunks in their sleep tonight, because of Plausible Deniability, Nico swings a leg over the picnic table bench, settling in next to her. She spares a second of attention to blow a raspberry at him, seemingly unprovoked. Nico reaches calmly over, plucks a pair of scissors from Connor’s hands, which he allows because of who he is as a person, and snips a piece of her hair. In response she pulls a notebook from her pocket and puts a little tick mark next to Nico’s name.

“So,” Nico says, choosing to ignore that. “I have a Question.”

“Ten dollars.”

“I’m not paying you, you little shit.”

“Then wonder in silence.”

Nico digs two wrinkled fives from his shoe and slams them on the table, scowling. Kayla pockets them.

“Proceed.”

Nico glares at her, noting her twitching mouth, and remembers that he does, in fact, need her help, and her brother is, in fact, his best friend, so challenging her to a duel to the death is a bad idea on both counts.

(Nonwithstanding the part where she has deadly accuracy with any projectile from almost any semi-reasonable distance. And he has, like, a sword. So.)

“Your brother,” he starts, and he does not need to clarify which one, “is always trying to…feed me.”

“Yes,” she agrees, “he is internally a seventy year old Southern woman. He does that.”

“Fruits.”

“Hm.”

“Oranges, specifically. Like, every single meal.”

“…Ah.”

It is a very knowing ah, Kayla’s little noise, and in fact she sets her project aside. (It is, in fact, an explosive.) She turns slightly on the bench to face him, lips pursed, hands folded. She blinks at him for several moments. Nico holds her gaze, remembering he is out ten dollars.

“My dear brother,” she begins, “my lovely, kind-hearted, smiley, morning person brother, is neurotic.”

Nico waits. This is, apparently, the end of her sentence, as she does not continue.

“I am aware,” he says slowly. “I have been present during every rant about Hollywood inaccuracies about medical sciences.”

She nods sagely. “This is true. You have. You are, however, by virtue of his cripplingly low self esteem and fervent belief that his mere existence is a Literal Actual Curse, spared from much of his most…colourful…contingencies.”

“Contingencies,” Nico repeats.

Kayla nods again.

“Yes. You see, dear future brother-in-law —”

“Cease,” Nico snaps, reddening.

“— our lovely William, also known as your Special Guy, according to Nico With Severe Blood Loss.” continues Kayla, not ceasing, “is under the impression that you, like all people, have a Limit.”

“…A Limit.”

“Yes. A point or level beyond which something does not or may not extend or pass.”

“I know what a godsdamn limit is, Kayla.”

“You seemed confused.”

“I am going to strangle you.”

Openly snickering to herself, she moves on.

“He feeds you oranges because he regularly paces around the cabin in the middle of the night stressing about your vitamin levels,” she explains, finally. “He doesn’t know how to tell you that like a normal person because he’s afraid he’s going to weird you out. Ergo.” She makes a flippant gesture with her hands. “Citrus.”

“Why is he so godsdamn cute,” Nico mutters to himself, then remembers to throw out a hasty, “Thank you,” before scrambling away from the table, ignoring the gathered snickers, and beelining for the the Demeter cabin. “Gods.”

It is empty, thankfully, when he strolls in, except for Miranda in the front gardens, who holds up a finger as he gets closer and whispers to a struggling seedling.

“Hey,” she says after a moment, smiling up at him. “What’s up?”

“I need,” he starts. He purses his lips, rocking back on his heels. His hands make some kind of motion. He’s not sure what, exactly, he didn’t give them permission. “I need.”

Miranda, thankfully, has had years of experience communicating with non-speaking entities, and as such is relatively fluent in Nico. She dusts off her hands, patting the spot beside her. Nico sits as indicated.

“Try a deep breath first,” she instructs. “When your brain is back up and running, try again.”

“It’s running. It’s running a lot.”

“Oh. In that case, might I suggest a small shout of frustration?”

“You may.”

He clears his throat, resting his hands on his diaphragm to Maximize the Output, as he has been previously instructed, and yells. A passing satyr jumps a full five feet in the air and flees. Nico grimaces, calling apologies after them.

“They’re never going to like me,” he grumbles.

Miranda pats his head. “There, there. One issue at a time.”

“Solace,” he says at her invitation, gesturing again. “Oranges.”

“…Ah.”

“He is. You know. Right?”

“I must confess I do not.”

He takes a moment to collect himself. Or, well, he tries to. He’s had an easier time trying to wrangle errant souls surfing along the Styx, but whatever. He literally owns his brain. It Shall submit to him, or he’ll get a new one. Watch.

“Will is…intensely thoughtful.”

“He’s a sweetheart,” Miranda agrees. “Once he brushed past me on the way to dinner and felt that I was going to get a cold, so he took the food I got and exchanged it for soup and veggies and Gatorade and stuff. He forgot to actually tell me that I was about to get a cold, at the time, but it was really nice of him in hindsight.”

Nico makes another loud, strangled bleating noise. Thankfully, no satyrs are harmed.

“He is so!”

“There, there,” Miranda says again. “You’ll get to full sentences soon, I’m sure of it.”

He takes a few moments to have a minor crisis in the peace and tranquility of Friendship. It’s this new thing he’s been trying. Will tells him it’s usually called ‘trust’ and ‘vulnerability’. It is mortifying for the most part but in small doses is kind of cool. Mostly.

“Who takes care of Will?“

“He doesn’t really get sick. Apollo genes and all that.”

“No, like. Emotionally.”

“Oh.” Miranda frowns thoughtfully. “Um. Chiron, maybe? I’m not actually sure.”

“It needs to be me,” Nico stresses. “He always takes care of me, and I want to, like, repay him. Not transactionally,”Nico rushes to clarify, “but, like, mutual care-ily.”

“I see.”

“You see?”

“Yes,” Miranda says sagely. “You must Show Him. That you are Invested in your Relationship.”

“Yes!” Nico cries, gripping her by the elbows. She meets his gaze head on, eyes wide and wizened. “Yes, exactly. Relationship Investment. You’re so smart.”

Miranda preens. “Thank you.” She stands, brushing off her jeans — fruitlessly, she’s got grass stains on top of grass stains on every piece of clothing she owns — and offering Nico a hand. Together they stand and observe the various shrubs, trees, and vines surrounding the cabin, hands on their hips.

Nico narrows his eyes. “Should I just get him oranges?”

“I still don’t fully understand the orange thing. But Will likes peaches.” She leans up and plucks one off of the largest tree, holding it out to Nico. “They make him think of home.”

Nico takes the peach and inspects it. It is, of course, impeccable — thick and heavy, skin soft and unblemished, full enough with juice and flavour to be fragrant even from the arm’s length Nico holds it. This is the kind of peach that wins fairs. This is the kind of peach that sits, prized, in a market, watching as mothers and hipsters claw at each other. This is the kind of peach that immediately upon first touch strikes within you such an intense urge to chuck it at the nearest hard surface and watch it splat into a beautiful explosion of Squelch that Nico has to, hastily, set it down and out of immediate reach.

“It’s perfect,” he declares.

“Don’t throw it at him,” Miranda advises, eyeing the fruit herself.

“Shan’t,” Nico promises, and it doubles at a warning to his brain because he can’t lie to Miranda, obviously, so his brain better Check Itself. There will be no peach throwing. Peach holding, only, and peach giving.

He waves goodbye to Miranda as he hustles off, headed for the bustling infirmary. There have been no great emergencies today — there would be a lot more of Will’s echoed screeching if this were the case — and many people who have walked in have walked out, minutes later, scowling, so now is a good a time as any. He could of course wait until Will is done his shift and they meet by Cabin Seven, like usual, but this is a Pressing Issue. Will can no longer continue to believe that Nico has a Limit, as Kayla had so unhelpfully explained. Nico is Limitless. He is a sine function. He is an eternal abyss. He is the final end of Chiron’s patience, if the horse is to be believed.

Also, the peach is really really tempting and Nico honestly does not have all that much control over his brain. It usually kind of does as it pleases. That’s why he has so many Situations.

“Solace,” he shouts, banging open the screen door loud enough to make everyone inside jump, “GET the hell over here.”

“I. Am.” Will holds up a patient’s arm, which has been hastily butterfly-clamped closed and is now being stitched. “Um. Is it urgent?”

Nico snaps his mouth shut. “No.” He stalks over to where Will is sitting, still bewildered, on his favourite stool, and stands with his arms crossed behind him. He nods at the injured camper, clearing his throat. “Proceed.”

“…Okay.”

Because Will is a Professional, his gaze remains focused on the gaping wound he is fixing. Because no one else at this camp is, everyone else chooses to gawk. Nico lets the fires of Hell enter his eyes, like Father showed him, and glares them all into subservience.

“Alright,” Will says, several minutes later, patting the patient’s knee with a smile. “I’m gonna wrap this, Jen, and you gotta keep it dry, okay? Have ambrosia twice a day like I told you and come see me at the end of the week.”

“There’ll be no scar?” the young girl hedges.

“Not if you follow my instructions,” Will promises. “Although you’ll be just as beautiful with a scar, kiddo, I promise. Ask your mother.”

Jen looks at him doubtfully, but Will is one of those people who’s unbelievably hard to distrust. It’s infuriating, if you’re Nico and committed to the whole goth/emo lifestyle. Probably comforting if you’re a normal person.

She leaves, and it is abruptly very quiet in the infirmary, which is crazy because it is abruptly never quiet at camp unless people are dead, usually, but no one is dead, and people are too godsdamn nosy to flinch away from Nico’s glare, or maybe they’re not scared of him anymore, and hey, isn’t that something. The world is so busy, all the time. Things keep happening. Who’s fault is that, again?

“Nico?” Will asks, rocking back on his heels. His hands are suddenly clean of blood and grime and his scrubs have been swapped out. They stand, also, at the other end of the infirmary, right outside of the on-call room. He looks up, and conversations have resumed, and Will is watching him, intently, bright eyes slightly too wide, front teeth gnawing at his bottom lip, Ace bandage winding, unwinding, winding.

“This is for you,” Nico blurts, and shoves the peach at him.

Will blinks. “Oh.” He stares at the peach, a moment, before a smile erupts on his face. “Oh! Thank you!”

He takes the peach, gently, from Nico’s hands, and holds it close to his chest, wide hands gentle so as not to bruise, smile gone close-mouthed, giddy. The rocking gets every so slightly faster, and the slight breeze from the open screen door ruffles his frizzy hair, and his nose is scrunched, just slightly, enough to wrinkle his dotted feathers, and Nico’s mouth is very, very dry.

“I do not,” he tries, and it grinds along his paper-parched throat, near silent, “I do not have Limits, William.”

The rocking stills. Nico mourns it.

“…Sorry?”

“Limits,” Nico repeats. “I do not have them. I am Limitless. Purge the thought.”

“You have limits,” Will says, alarmed. “Um, we had that talk, right? About pushing yourself and why that is generally regarded as a bad plan.”

“That was you shouting at me in between nectar shots and frantic mothering, actually, but that’s not what I meant.”

Will doesn’t answer, only tilting his head.

“You’re neurotic,” Nico attempts to explain, and as could be expected by literally anyone with a brain this goes poorly, and he rushes to amend. “I mean! Well, you are neurotic — but! There is a but! Stop looking at me like that! You are neurotic but!”

“This is a very bad friendship break up if that is what you are trying,” says Will in a small voice, and Nico resolves to kick his own ass later tonight to Atone.

“I like it,” he hurries to explain. “You and your — neuroses. All of you, I like it. There is no Limit. Capital L. You’re groovy. On — point. Fleek? What do the kids say. I don’t —”

“Oh,” Will breathes, thankfully putting Nico out of his misery, “oh, this is about the oranges.”

Nico nods miserably.

“The oranges are —” Will cuts himself off, staring down at his shoes. “Um, scurvy freaks me out.”

“…Scurvy?”

“It — collagen synthesis is an active process? In your body? And scurvy makes it degrade really quickly. Which kind of tears your body apart by reopening scars. On top of other things. And you — were on a ship, you know. For a while. And you sweat a lot. And you don’t take the multivitamins I give you.”

“Because they’re gross,” Nico says, breathless, “and I’m not — sweaty.”

Wherever sunlight touches Will’s skin he tends to glow, slightly, and his freckles fluoresce the longer his hand takes to traverse the space between them, past the open window, resting, lightly, on Nico’s wrist.

“You are,” he says, gently. “You have — really low magnesium and potassium levels. Just, all the time.” He glances down at the inside of Nico’s wrist. “Right now, actually. Will you eat a banana if I go get you one?”

Will will go get a banana, and Nico will follow him, and they will sit, somewhere, probably the big rock by the lake, as Nico eats it, and Will will eat his peach, and Nico will watch his throat bob, and Will will talk, hands gesturing, peach juice everywhere, and they will stay there, probably, way past sunset, right till curfew, and then they will sprint, as they usually do, to avoid the harpies, and they will go to Nico’s cabin, first, because they always do, and Will will snag an orange as they run past the fruit trees by the Demeter cabin, and he will press it into Nico’s hands, firmly, smiling as he says goodnight, and running back to his own cabin. Where he will, according to Kayla, pace, and worry. Where he will rant about Limits, and how close Nico is to approaching them.

“Will,” says Nico seriously, grabbing his hands. Will’s eyes snap to his, wide, wider than usual, and they are so blue, so so blue, are things usually this blue? He’s startled by it every time. “Will, I am a sine function.”

“I don’t understand,” he admits.

Nico nods. “That’s okay! Just — peaches.” He reaches out and pats the fruit, curling Will’s fingers around them. “For you. Okay?”

Will glances down at the peach. He glances back up at Nico. He looks down, finally, at their hands, twined around the fruit, and holds there, one, two, three seconds.

“Oh,” he says, finally. “Oh, you don’t — oh.”

“Peaches,” Nico repeats, “oranges.” He pulls one hand free and draws a line between them. “You get it?”

“I get it,” Will says, softly. He looks up and smiles, small, private; too-big front teeth just barely peeling out. “You never reach your approached value.”

“I really don’t even get that close.”

“I’m kind of losing the metaphor, here.”

“Okay.”

Nico squeezes their hands together. Will squeezes back, shifting his weight.

“I’m still gonna — you still gotta get your vitamin C.”

“More oranges?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He rubs his finger over the backs of Will’s knuckles; he shivers. Nico meets his eyes and he smiles, widely, hurting his cheeks, and Will smiles back, and he rocks, and Nico is an abyss, and he is falling, falling, falling. “I like oranges.”

[apollocabinrep]

PJO PRIDE HEADCANONS (FEATURING CAMP HALF-BLOOD) Pt1?

The Apollo cabin is by far the one filled with the most lgbtqia+ members. They hold late night gossip sessions and will tease each other /relentlessly/.

Followup for above; Austin, from canonical characters, as the resident aroace sibling has the most blackmail on his siblings because of these sessions.

Camp Half-Blood has always been a safe place for lgbtia+ demigods no matter what time period (the gods have had lovers of both genders since ancient times + Chiron training Achilles & Patroclus). Members of the community were often year-rounders for this reason, because even if they died young they could be their authentic selves.

Drew Tanaka is on the aroace spectrum and when she was younger thought there was something wrong with her due to not falling in love like her siblings. Silena Beauregard is the one that helped her through it.

Annabeth has to be careful in the state of Florida because a camera caught her beating up a homophobe. (Yes, it was a mortal. She had gone with Malcolm as support for him to come out of the closet to his mortal dad and step-mom.)

Every year before Manhattan, Jake (Mason) and Michael (Yew) would risk getting eaten by harpies to stargaze on top of the Apollo cabin roof. After the Battle, Travis and/or Connor would help Jake get up there and let him stargaze for the night. Mysteriously, the harpies avoided the area as if they had orders to leave it alone.

Cecil is the biggest ally in camp, so much so that he says things no straight man would ever dare.

Cecil: "I'd kiss a guy to show my support."

Lou: "That's not how it works. Also, you're dating me!"

Cecil: "Yeah, but allyship Lou Ellen. Don't be homophobic during pride month."

Lou: "I'm literally pan!"

The Hermes cabin has a list with everyone's flags and are like pride flag fairies.

Clarisse was the first person Will came out to as bisexual. She found him crying by the lake because he didn't think he would be accepted. They got to talking and she told him she was bi as well. "Take a look around, Solace. Times are changing and we can like who we like. Hades, look at your own cabin. You guys may have a single straight ally in there, because the rest of y'all sure arent straight."

Katie and Miranda help everyone decorate with flowers and put bouquets together.

Mitchell and Valentina have a betting pool on which couples are going to 'do the most'.

Nico's first pride month is definitely interesting. He had no idea that the camp would be so accepting or that there would be so many others like/similar to himself. (He spent most of it in a state of shock and talked Jason's ear off over Iris message.)

[frozenrose20]

Minor/side character headcanons/possible prompts for the soul.

Lee fletcher is an exact replica of Apollo in his modern form dazzling white teeth, shiny straight blonde hair and sky blue eyes. In contrast, Will Solace is an exact replica of the Apollo you see in the statues of old with curly blonde hair with a rounder more youthful appearance.

Luke had a suspicion of Chris being a son of Hermes what he did not know was Chris inherited more of his father's psychopomp abilities rather than his domain of travel.... While yes, minos and his curse on the labyrinth is what drove Chris to madness the screaming souls of the damned trapped in the maze did help much either.

Katie Gardner and Meg McCaffrey are praised for their abilities of growing plants. Many often Overlook their sister Miranda who has their mother's ability to bring forth the famine and has the ability take life away from her plants in her bouts of sadness just as much as she can give them life.

Children of Apollo have a fear of snakes. Athena's spawn have a fear of spiders and while they'll never admit it Ares children have always been wary of closed spaces.

Rachel Elizabeth Dare was an only child despite this she was often overlooked. when she took the title of Oracle she did not know what that entailed. She didn't know at the time that it would give her in honorary family of siblings but who is she to complain.

At the end of the titan war Will was at a loss he was now the oldest of his siblings yet he had no knowledge on how to be the responsible older brother. Rachel also has no knowledge on how to be an honorary older sister so maybe they can learn together.

When she was younger Clarisse loved when they learned of the iliad she had a copy she would read whenever she was bored. She looked up to and respected Achilles she aspired to be just like him, a strong warrior able to take on anyone. Her only problem was she couldn't understand how he could turn away from a war how he could back down from a fight. When she returns from the Battle of Manhattan she still cannot understand but alas she made the same mistakes as him just liked she had hopped as a child. If in her anger she burned her copy of The Iliad who are we to judge her.

[t0p-1-sidecharacter--fan]

How do people acknowledge Clovis but not my babies Cecil, Ellis, Miranda, Lou Ellen's and many many more!

(this is not Clovis hate, I love Clovis too ❤)

[freddie-77-ao3]

[ Annabeth tells everyone they have to go to a long counselor's meeting. ] Drew: I can’t come. Annabeth: Why not? Drew: I’ll be washing my hair. Connor: I’ll be holding the towel. Cecil: I’ll be running the water. Will: i'll be making sure no one slips and falls Lou Ellen: i'll be getting the shampoo Malcolm: and someone needs to hold the conditioner Travis: And I’ll be at home trying to get over the fact that nobody invited me to the big hair washing party. Katie: i have to comfort travis Miranda: i have to try to drag katie to the meeting Sherman: miranda might need help Annabeth, turning to Percy: and you? Percy: someone needs to provide snacks for the party. Annabeth: two o'clock. All of you. Be there. Or else.

[lionmythflower]

[hamletshoeratio]

"I want x spinoff, I want a book about y"

I want to meet the woman who had not one but TWO kids with Hermes. Two kids so close in age and are so alike people just assume that they're twins, two kids who are chaos personified, who singlehandedly run the camp shop, who are in charge of the biggest cabin at camp and look after their equally chaotic gremlin siblings plus every unclaimed kid at camp like Lou Ellen a daughter of Hecate and another being of chaos who learnt it all from them, and who take every opportunity to fuck shit up, to prank their camp mates or to steal shit. Their last name, which they get from their mama? Stoll by the way. Neither child notices the pun.

I want to meet Mama Stoll, who saw the chaos, who saw the bullshit Hermes brought into her life the first go around and said tonight's the night let's do it again. She is either the world's greatest cat burglar who enticed the god of Thieves or the messenger god was enchanted by the best god dam delivery woman on the planet. There's no in-between. It was just a bonus that her surname was the perfect pun. Her and Hermes laugh about it. In my head, it's all canon. Regardless, she unleashed two agents of unlimited chaos onto an unsuspecting world, and I love her for it. I take my hat off to her, I kneel before her.

Oh, and the oldest kid, Travis? He's dating a girl called Katie, who is the daughter of Demeter. Her last name? Gardner. Fucking Gardner. She has a sister called Miranda Gardiner, by the way. Mama Stoll finds it hilarious. Her sons still don't get the pun, but at least she gets on with her future daughter in law like a house on fire.

[thegreatandpowerfulapollo]

TOA INCORRECT QUOTES PT3

Apollo: Does anybody know where Meg is?

Will: No idea

Austin: Haven't seen her all day

Miranda: Last time I saw her was around the Hermes cabin

Apollo: SHOOT

*Apollo goes in the cabin*

Meg: Hey Lester

Apollo: Why are the Stoll brothers on the ground crying?

[laurakinneyswife]

Pjo demigods Aesthetic pt2 U can find pt1 here

jason grace

piper mclean

leo valdez

hazel levesque

frank zhang

reyna arellano

drew tanaka

cecil markowitz

lou ellen

miranda gardiner

sherman yang

[punkeropercyjackson]

Pjo fans never go hard enough with their black headcanons-you can't be making JUST Percy afrolatino and calling it a day.Thalia's always felt like a black alt girl and she'd be a Sista Grrrl and albino Jason is in the same league as orange hair gold eyes Hazel as albinism dosen't turn you platinum blonde,it gives you no color at all and it's better design if he's a lightskin dirty blonde with brown eyes to match his Thalia's visual opposite motif.Nico's black soft sunshine boy swag deserves to be aknowledged and all Demeter kids should be black(/blasian Billie)because nobody does earthy better than black folks and afro-indian Grover is canon in a way due to both live actions and nigerian yoruba Rachel is the best explanation for her poofy hair and her last name being 'Dare'

And back to Percy,with full offense to old Pjoheads,you write him like a culture vulture and lightskin/mixed Percy's not real because he looks exactly like Poseidon so he HAS to be monoracial and the only 'Dark Percy' that's not racist is darkskin Percy with super strong features.He's not a sk*ter boy or a Hot Topic goer or a fan of poser punk bands like Fob/P!atd/etc,he's afropunk and a diy master and listens to rap,hip hop and nu metal and is deeply tied to his dominican heritage since Sally raised him in it as a second gen inmigrant and he also does petty crime on the regular,uses his Poseidon powers to help his activism be even better(such as enviormentalism),had a variety of black hairstyles throught all the books,was never crushing on Luke or the gods because no self-respecting black man would and him,Nico and Hazel are his platonic soulmates by choice in every universe and Sally adopted them so they're La Familia Jackson and run a family beach cafe and he's also a team parent to break the cycle of abuse.The closest thing to a yt person thing about Percy is he's an Mcr fan but even then that's just a millenial punk thing.And can't forget:He is audhd and reflects black autistic experiences specifically

[bugwolfsstuff]

sneak peek of a Tratie wip with Katie taking after Demeter Erinys!!!(also having seasonal depression)

@thel1ghtningthief @smileyalater

Katie sniffled. The plants of the Demeter cabin were dying around her. She curled up in a fetal position on her bed, staring at the ceiling. The grass on the bit of ceiling above her bed had turned yellow. Soon it’d turn black with rot and start falling out in clumps. Soon the temperature in the room would dip. Soon everything in the cabin would be covered in frost, and she couldn’t bring herself to care less. 

“Are you okay?” Miranda asked. 

Katie glanced at her through half lidded eyes. “Take a guess.” She said. Was that even a question? Of course she wasn’t okay. Autumn and Winter were always sucked for her, it was as if all of the will and life was sucked away from her from the moment the first autumn leaf hit the ground to the first blossom of spring bloomed. She assumed it had something to do with her mom. 

“Are you gonna get out of bed today?” 

Katie looked down at her arms. She wanted to get up. She wanted to pick herself up and get up out of bed, really. She just couldn’t. She was tired. She shook her head. 

“I’m worried for you.” Miranda reached for her hand to squeeze it, and Katie felt the warmth of her sister’s hand for all but two seconds before Miranda yelped and pulled away. 

“Sorry,” Katie muttered. 

Miranda sighed and walked out of the cabin. Katie thought that was fair, all her other siblings left her too. The summer campers went home two months ago, and the year rounders all avoided the cabin when she was like this. It was too cold for them to live in. She was too weak to calm her powers down. 

[mediumgayitalian]

part three

———

The first step should, in all likelihood, be the easiest.

(“I’m not sure this is something you can really plan,” Annabeth had suggested gently, “as much as my mother would disown me to hear it. I mean, everything I did with Percy kind of just…happened.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure the five years of pining misery and fighting off several other people — one of whom was literally me — was a real walk in the park for you.”

“…Plan on.”)

It is not the easiest.

“You’re telling me the flowers…say things.”

If Nico reaches back into the farthest recesses of his memory, as in things that are shoved somewhere between his sister’s soft sobs the one time he got sicker than he’d ever been and has ever been since and the time he’d walked in on Alecto skinny dipping in the Phlegothon, he can vaguely remember a lengthy rant from his stepmother on something called the language of flowers. He had, at that time, assumed she was simply trying to convince him that everything had voices again, and ignored her.

“Yes,” says Miranda from Demeter Cabin patiently. “Every flower has an assigned meaning. More than one, usually. You can say very rude things with flowers.”

Nico perks up, intrigued. “How do you say ‘you’re a fucking c—”

“Okay,” Jason interrupts, plastering a strained smile on his face and slapping a hand over Nico’s mouth. Nico bites him, hard, and the smile becomes even more strained. “We are actually looking for much nicer things to say with flowers. Kind things. Appreciative things. Feelings, you know. Nico?”

He lifts his hand, looking at him in warning as if Nico is going to be quelled by his Stare of Judgement, of all things. Nico stares back at him until he starts to look appropriately cowed, satisfyingly afraid of the horror that lives inside Nico’s eyes, except he — doesn’t.

He doesn’t look scared at all, actually, which is — which.

Nico takes all thoughts pertaining to the issue and shoves them away.

“I need,” he says haltingly, looking back at Miranda. She looks at him encouragingly.

She doesn’t look afraid of him, either, although she glances quickly down at the circle of grass he’s killed by virtue of standing on it and says, politely, “If you could maybe stop that, I would appreciate it.”

Nico swallows, stepping back. “Sorry.”

“No worries.” She swoops down, hands outstretched, murmuring something too soft for him to pick up. Under her gentle fingertips, the grass blooms slowly back to life, tiny strands uncurling and swelling with virility, stretching towards the sun. Even the dirt smells sweeter, like churned garden soil rather than graveyard dirt.

Something dark and bitter crawls up Nico’s throat — he will always need people to clean up after his messes. No matter how hard he tries. Miranda with the plants, Solace with every one of his endless injuries, Bianca with — everything. She cleaned up after him a lot.

She was only twenty-seven months older than him. He wonders how she would have liked being fourteen, and has to choke back the sob that tries to claw its way out of his trachea.

“Not a lot of people have flower language memorized,” Miranda says, dragging him roughly back to the present. Her large brown eyes are back to focused on him, so he forces himself into normalcy and stares back. “And it’s kind of vague, so I need something to start with. Who’s it for?”

“Classified.”

Nico considers, once again, opening up a chasm beneath his feet. His geokinesis is no bene so he’d probably take Jason and Miranda down with him, but. Necessary sacrifices, et cetera.

“Understandable,” Miranda responds without so much as a beat. Huh. Suddenly, he feels bad for considering her collateral. “Just this then: friend or foe?”

Nico looks at Jason. Jason looks back at him, like, dude, seriously. Nico scowls at him and his uselessness.

“Friend,” he says begrudingly. “…More.”

Miranda nods in understanding. “Ah. Will, then.”

Nevermind. Chasm it is.

“Man, I hoped you guys would finally do something,” Miranda continues, oblivious to the ground trembling slightly under her. (Jason, however, appears alarmed, so Nico summons a tiny skeleton hand to grab his ankle in revenge.) “I love Will to pieces, but there are only so many times I can hear him wax poetic about you before it starts to get embarrassing. When we were twelve you saved his life and he actually cried because he didn’t know how to form the words. Just weeping everywhere about your sword and your hair and how you look a little crazy when you smile in battle. Did you know there are, like, a million syllables for brown? I do. He thinks your eyes are a tie between moonstone and agate, in case you were wondering.”

“I have actually heard that,” Jason mumbles, as Nico’s brain whites out and leaves him, tragically alone, to suffer. “I thought he was just super into geology.”

“Oh, he is. He’s a little into everything. There’s a bi joke, for you.”

“Oh, ha, I get it.”

Is that his body, stranded somewhere below him? Hi, body. Good to see you. You look like hell. Feel free to summon your soul back into yourself at any time, that’d be great.

“I am generally bad at functioning,” he admits, once his essence has begrudgingly reattached itself to his cells and his blood stops ringing quite so loudly in his ears.

Miranda shrugs. “I think you’re pretty okay. Once Percy had to get five stitches on his lip because he was half asleep and mixed up his plate and pizza and bit clean through his plate. It only really needed four stitches, but Will laughed so hard he couldn’t focus right and tore the wound a tad before fixing it. By accident.”

Nico tries very hard not to picture that laughter, not to remember the first time he heard Will laugh, not the hundreds of times after; a loud sound, a musical sound, despite his insistence that he has no talents. Laughter like olive oil laughs in the pan, like wind laughs as it rushes through the poplar trees.

Jason nods sympathetically. “Mondays are hard.”

“Please,” Nico begs the both of them. The nerve he’d summoned after the encouragement of his friends is slowly leaking out of his eyeballs and soaking the ground. “I just need —”

He can’t finish that sentence, either. I need to give Will flowers so he knows I have….intentions, with him, is the most embarrassing sentence ever to be conjured by man, and if he has to say it aloud he knows his father will smite him out of pity, as is their deal. It must only be implied, and even then, he could get egged by any member of Cabin Eleven and turn into a breakfast buffet, his face is so godsdamn hot.

“Will, is, like, unbelievably dense,” Miranda says, taking pity on him. She waits for Nico to finish choking, patting him firmly on the back before continuing. “I guess that’s not fair. He can be quite observant, he just has worse self-esteem than you, even, no offense, so if you are trying to seduce him you’re going to have to be very obvious.”

The wheezing that she has just circumvented starts all over again. This time, Jason joins him. Miranda has no qualms or shame — fitting, since Nico has met her mother, who also has no shame about anything. Nico will never be able to forget that she is the goddess of fertility.

“Who the fuck said anything about seducing,” he manages, finally, lungs chilling somewhere on the grass.

Miranda ignores him. “I would usually say something simple like daisies, but they can be representative of friendship and he will for sure assume they are friendship flowers. Hyacinth can communicate a much deeper breadth of emotion, but, uh —” she glances at the Apollo cabin — “I would avoid Hyacinth.”

Nico sobers. Yeah. That would be wise.

“I think roses send a little too strong of a message for your purposes, so I’m thinking carnations. Pink ones.”

Recovering from the implications of the roses — he’s a little out of time, not stupid, he knows what they mean — he looks at her curiously. “What do pink carnations mean?”

She shrugs. “Love and affection, really. Sometimes gratitude, and in some poetry their colouring is compared to a pleased flush.”

Although he expected much more agony in this particular step of the journey (not that their wasn’t a good, healthy amount; can’t feel good feelings for too long if you’re Nico di Angelo, Cursèd, Son of Hades, Prince of the Underworld, Ghost King, Et Cetera, Et Cetera), pink carnations seem surprisingly…right. Love and affection, he can handle that, and if there’s one thing he always is, regarding Will, it’s grateful. Maybe the whole damn camp should be giving him pink carnations.

“Here.”

Sensing Nico’s hesitant acceptance, Miranda swoops down to the ground, digs around a second, shoots a quick prayer to her mother, and waits. A moment later, several blush-pink flowers shoot from the dirt, along with — Nico squints to read it — a book about the history of grain cereals. Miranda looks confused about one of those two things.

“I am constantly plagued by the Ancient Greek Theoi and their various whims,” Nico explains.

“Your life confuses me,” Miranda responds. She hands him the book and the flowers. For once, Demeter’s gift seems to be the less volatile object of the two. “I’m going to go meditate about it.”

“Good call,” says Jason.

“Thank you,” Nico calls, belatedly, to her retreating back. He glances down at the flowers in his hand. “Jason,” he says, voice strained.

He sighs. “Oh, here we go.”

“Jason, I have to move.”

“You’re fine here,” Jason says patiently. He places a hand on Nico’s shoulder and begins to steer him towards the Big House. Nico, distraught, refrains from judo flipping him into a tree.

“I ruin everything I touch, Jason.”

“You helped out with the strawberries just fine last week.”

“Strawberries are not people, Jason.”

“The kids seem to like you. You let them keep weird skulls and rocks and shit they find in the woods, and they like that.”

“Children are not completely incomprehensible sons of the sun, Jason.”

“Will likes you. By his own admission. He thinks — and I’m quoting here — that you’re gorgeous, even when you’re glaring at him and rueing your own existence.”

Nico has nothing to say to that, because he still can’t quite believe that’s true. It’s — surreal. He had no arguments against it, because he knows, objectively, that Will was not lying, and he can see, with his eyeballs, that Will smiles every time they make eye contact, unless Nico did something stupid in which case Will is huffing and muttering about patients and demigods and how increased power is directly correlated with increased stupidity.

Mostly smiling, though.

At Nico. With love and affection and oh, gods, he is going to ruin things so bad.

“Look,” Jason says, stopping them in front of the porch. Nico takes the pause with equal parts relief and panic, turning to him with the flowers clutched to his chest. “You have — issues.”

Nico blinks, waiting for more sentence. Surely that cannot be all of it.

“…Yes,” he acquiesces, when no sentence is forthcoming. “I am an interloper in this timeline. I am an omen of death. I am —”

“Gods, you’re dramatic.”

Nico agonizes.

“You will be fine, Nico, please, I don’t even know what the hang-up is. He said he likes you, there is literally not a single soul in this camp unaware about how much he likes you. Right?”

The rickety screen door of the infirmary bangs open, slamming against the frame, startling them both so hard they cause a slight earthquake.

“Oh, you got them, you got them!”

The overworked and overstressed whirlwind known as William Andrew Solace bursts out of the infirmary, tripping over his own shoes and nearly landing on his face had Jason not caught him.

“Woah, dude,” he says, steady hand on his waist. Nico reacts to that totally normally and Jason’s shadow does not at all try to swallow him. “What’s wrong?”

Will barely responds. “Nico, you are the best, I owe you forever —”

Stumbling out of Jason’s hold, he lunges over to Nico, plucking the flowers out of his hand and spinning right back to the infirmary. In total bewilderment, Nico and Jason follow him, watching as he tosses the bouquet in the air, hands glowing golden, and mutters a quick hymn. The flowers begin to droop, then wrinkle, then fully shrivel up, totally dead as they land back in his hands.

“What the fuck,” Jason whispers.

“Sun-dried is better, but I don’t have time,” Will frets. “Son of sun will have to do. Ha. You, and you, over here.” He points to the nurses desk with the yellowed stems, no trace of a question in his voice. The two of them scramble to comply, ducking under the half-door and standing awkwardly behind the counter as Will clears it off.

“That stupid prank — remind me to kill Cecil tomorrow, Nico, if you don’t mind — has three whole cabins covered in skin welts. I don’t have enough beds for them all, and they need to be quarantined, anyway. I haven’t had time to go get more ingredients in between cabins, let alone time to make more ointment.” Two massive stone mortars slam the counter, making both of them jump, followed by pestles with blunt heads roughly the size of Nico’s fist. “Pulverize the petals as fine as you can.” He splits the dead bouquet in half, handing them each six flowers each. “Petals only, no stems or seeds. I’ll be back in twenty minutes to gather it. Oh, and Nico —”

He pauses for a moment, taking a breath. Hesitantly, Nico reaches out and places a gentle hand on his wrist. Instantly, the worried line between his eyes melts away, and he smiles; tired but radiant.

“I owe you one,” he says softly. “You always know just what I need. I’ve been using rose, ‘cause that’s what we have, even though pink carnations is better, but we ran out an hour ago and I’ve been freaking out cause I —”

“Solace,” Nico interrupts. He squeezes gently. “Breathe.”

He does. Inhale, hold, exhale, breath tickling the hairs in Nico’s arm, causing goosebumps to bristle all over his skin. (The grateful smile pointed towards him at full power has nothing to do with that. Obviously.)

“I’m good. Just — thank you, Nico. You knew exactly what I needed.”

A loud groan sounds from somewhere to the east, in the vague direction of Cabin Ten, and Will rushes off without another word, medical bag stuffed to bursting. There’s a thump, and a quick, “I’m good!” and then the sound of running in flip-flops. Nico ducks his head to hide a smile, turning to the dried flowers.

“Well,” says Jason after a moment. “You tried.”

Nico shrugs. He starts plucking the petals off and dumping them in the mortar, Jason quick to follow his example.

“I’ll just have to try harder next time.”

———

part five

[wishecho]

redraw of them !

[t0p-1-sidecharacter--fan]

total drama island but replace them with the side and minor characters of Camp Half-Blood and Apollo as Chris

[freddie-77-ao3]

garden games camp half blood has banned, a non extensive list:

tag. any version of tag. a lot of kids can teleport/shadow travel or have super speed, and the ones that don't DO NOT appreciate playing tag with them. It wasn't officially banned until cecil, connor, and chris teamed up in what became known as the "battle of the c's" and demolished everyone (all 263 kids playing) within three minutes and fifty-eight seconds. travis still has nightmares.

Freeze tag in particular was banned when someone with winter/ice powers misunderstood and actually ended up freezing a couple of demigods. Poor Chris never looked the same.

ring around the rosie. fun fact, this is how michael yew got claimed! yeah... not actually fun considering he started going on about how the song was about the bubonic plague and then GAVE clarisse the bubonic plague because... it sounded like a good idea at the time?

Red Light Green Light. Again, teleportation/superspeed. It had fallen out of favour, but was officially banned when five year olds Will and Connor both ended up in the infirmary because Connor kept cheating, Will got mad and started yelling, and a tree nymph got mad and tripped both of them.

Sharks and Minnows: surprisingly, not a superspeed/teleportation related ban. No, it got banned when nine year old Clarisse tripped Michael so she could make her way to freedom, but Michael fell into Annabeth and she fell too... Annabeth beat both of them up for causing her to lose. Miranda still talks about how she won. Annabeth still glares every time Miranda talks about it.

Simon Says. Sherman won all of Ares Cabin's cash by saying Simon Says give your money to Sherman, and Ares cabin refuses to back down from a challenge. This then turned into a riot when Sherman didn't give the money back.

duck duck goose. there's already an incorrect quote about "fuck, fuck, shit", need I say more? yes, actually, because that's not why it was banned. It was banned because travis gave beckendorf a concussion by hitting his head too hard.

musical chairs. they broke the chairs. the steel, extra reinforced chairs. because instead of playing, they were fighting over who's music to turn on.

dodgeball: certain someones (ellis and cecil) swapped out the dodgeballs for firework grenades. aka fireworks that are motion activated. that only activate when they hit their target. Auto banned... after it happened for the third time.

The floor is lava: michael climbed lee like a tree to win, and so did clarisse. Lee fell over. carrying several jars of nectar. yeah...

jump ropes with rhymes: apollo cabin is very creative when it comes to coming up with rhymes. a little too creative. banned.

hide and seek: so many incidents. so many. also malcolm kept winning and drew kept getting mad, and they started fighting, which meant they both lost...