hi my violation beans!

so i was born today, and i was trying really hard to get a chapter out today, but it didn't work out.

it wouldn't have been anything special, probably a short chapter focusing on the couples so there'd be no angst and all fluff

it sucks but it's just what happens when you're working on a fuck ton a projects and you don't have the writing ability of the Ao3 authors publishing 13 chapters daily, i cannot comprehend their abilities

even if i shouldn't, i feel really bad so here are the opening scenes of some of my stuff i haven't published yet

the first one is ihbwyftbom because those chapters take too long to write, but the first scene alone is 800 words so enjoy

the ability to be
September would have slowly lulled around the corner. But it didn't. Annabeth had that ability.

    Rather than a dull routine of school, work, sleep, repeat, Percy had a place. He could drink damn good tea, rant about random fish facts, and just be.

    It's an odd and new sensation, that ability to be. All of his life, Percy had to help someone to prove he was worthy of living and being acknowledged. With Annabeth, Percy could sit and rest.

    It made him restless. Especially when she fell asleep 10 minutes into a movie. For the first time, Annabeth's features would relax and morph into comfort. That was the only time he'd seen her genuinely unwound.

    He watched her fall asleep, her long, dark hair splaying across her couch as she slouched deeper into the surprisingly soft cushions. She awoke once due to a loud banging in the movie when she'd open her eyes and tense up again. But it was only for a moment, and Percy must have imagined the way she had instinctively tightened her shoulders, her droopy eyes darting around the room before landing on Percy, and she relaxed again. She moved her hair out of her face, grabbed her little skyscraper design, and leaned into Percy.

    Percy then watched as her droopy, tired eyes battled against her knotted, determined brow. He knew she wanted to finish the design at that moment. She also wanted to go to sleep.

    Percy gave a small smile, watching the octopus on the screen wiggle its way through a tight hole while Annabeth let out a small grunt of frustration. Annabeth, he thought to himself as she erased a number on the side of... something--it was all gibberish to him, would probably die if her sleep-deprived self did something to fuck up the project.

    With that thought, he nudged her a little. "Hey," he whispered, even though they were the only ones at the house Annabeth leased. "You should sleep."

    Annabeth yawned. "I'm fine."

    Percy couldn't help but laugh at such bullshit.

    Annabeth rolled her eyes. "I'm serious. I'll be f...what the fuck," she muttered, looking at the design. "What am I--No, that can't be here." She leaned away from Percy, giving her design her full attention. "It has to be h--what the fuck?"

    "Okay, how about this," Percy said, turning the page in Annabeth's sketchbook. "You work on something that isn't an assignment, so if you mess it up because you aren't sentient, it won't matter." Annabeth gave the tiniest scoff. "Rude," Percy said.

    Annabeth continued to be rude and rolled her eyes (the audacity of some people) but obliged. "What do I even design?"

    When Percy couldn't come up with an answer, he asked, "What did you want to design when you decided you'd be an architect?"

    Annabeth played with a strand of her hair as she thought about it. She pulled the rest of her dark hair away from Percy as she leaned back into him, and Percy smiled, wrapping his arms around her. "I think I wanted to make a neighborhood." She paused, returning to her thoughts before brightening up, that knot in her brows loosening. "Yeah, it was a neighborhood. But, like, a cool neighborhood. I was, like, 13, so everything had to be specific and exactly what I wanted, and it had to be filled with only smart--Wait, no shrewd people because I was so quirky and different and above them all. I know the word shrewd exists, so..."

    Percy blinked before erupting into a weird mix of a snort and laugh. "I'm sorry, I can't take that seriously. It sounds like that one Shakespeare play I was forced to read in high school," he wheezed.

    "Oh yeah! The one with that unlovable bitch!"

    "Yeah, that one! What was it call–The Taming of the Shrew!"

    Annabeth cackled. "That thing was a fucking fever dream. So was that other one where some fairy fucking drugged this couple who was running away from the crown."

    "Yeah, and the best friend was ratting them out and had everyone drugged doing some play at the end. What the fuck was that?"

    "It's supposed to be a comedy," Annabeth reasoned. "But at the same time... what was that."

    "Exactly. He had to have been on drugs."

    "I'm sure everyone was on some type of drug at the time."

    "True," Percy said as Annabeth jotted down a few ideas before closing her sketchbook and the documentary they were kind-of-watching-kind-of-not ended.

hi i'm back!

now with this book, it takes forever because

1- the chapters are just naturally longer

2- i am trying to keep this no longer than 20 chapters

3- i really love character development and relationship dynamics

so i'm trying to throw all of that in and unlike soulmates, i'm given free reign to look into two characters that i know pretty well with this new lens which is really difficult when you have a cast of 500.

anyway, i ended up doing something similar with my shelper fic, which i am unable to not mention every three seconds

i still don't have a title :,(

but guess what, that's okay

i have around 10,000 words written thus far, so the opening scene is done and it takes up a solid 4,000 of those words.

i apologize in advance, the formatting got fucked when i pasted this. in my original doc, i have this in double space with tabs and comments and a fuck ton more. i can't really have a lot of those on wattpad but some of them still managed to get their own miniature tangent. i'm also writing this on my phone, making it hard to fix.

chapter to be named
Shel gazed into the dark depths of her espresso martini as the lights around her began to dim. The industrial chandeliers that hung above the bar illuminated the room with a copper finish. Her glass reflected the colors making her drink even darker, richer.

She looked around the... bar? Restaurant? Shel wasn't sure. In the mornings, it seemed to be a restaurant where people come to enjoy the expensive cuisine at full price. That lasted until noon. Then came lunch, where they only sold refreshing salads and sandwiches until 5, happy hour. They only served drinks until 5:45, when they'd open the kitchen. Shel could see chefs making fresh dough from the bar for some of the most delicious pizzas she'd ever eaten. And that means a lot coming from Shelby Silva Hicks.

Her father owned Sofrito de Silva, one of the best Latin restaurants in Central Florida (in Shel's professional opinion, though it did win a Michelin Bib a few years back, so actual professionals seemed to enjoy it as well). When Shel turned 14, she got her first job there cleaning pots. Then she'd host, then serve, then whatever her parents needed (helping with inventory, deveining shrimp, cleaning the place after closing) She worked at Sofrito de Silva until she turned 18. She grew up with food and restaurants and knew what made a good one. Di Angelo's was a good one.

She especially loved the espresso martini. It combines two of her favorite things: coffee and a smooth drink. Shel took another sip, sighing at the taste: coffee with a hint of chocolate--either from syrup or whatever liquor they used. She savored the taste. Smooth and yet rich. God, Shel needed to learn to make–

Her thoughts were interrupted as someone shook her from behind with an exclaimed "Boo!"

Shel would've hurt Lavinia if she hadn't dodged Shel's instinctive fist.

"Oh my God!" Lavinia said as she stared at Shel's fist, which was still clenched. "You're trying to kill me!"

Shel placed her hand on her heart, trying to calm herself down. "You scared the living shit out of me."

"Yeah, but you would've fucking murdered me," said the pink-haired girl as she sat atop a barstool. "This is hella bougie for a gay bar," she muttered.

Shel nodded. "You gotta cater to the fancy gays."

"Like you?"

"Yes, asshat, like me."

Lavinia rolled her eyes and stole a sip of Shel's drink.

Shel just blankly stared at her. "Bitch."

"Cunt." Lavinia took another slow sip.

Shel slowly blinked. "I hate you."

"Uh-huh." She passed the drink back. "Now, what is the official Shelby review for this joint?"

"It's fucking amazing. Fun fact, it only functions as a bar starting at 5, but 50% of all the food goes to funding charities." Shel moved the drink far from Lavinia's reach. "Like, you remember that place in Boston? The Chase Space?"

"Oh, this place donates to them? That's amazing; now I won't feel bad dropping $100 here."

Shel snorted as Lavinia ordered an old-fashioned. She took a sip of her martini, reveling in these few moments when her best friend was actually silent.

It, unsurprisingly, did not last long.

Lavinia aggressively tapped Shel's leg. She almost spilled her drink. "Lav, could you possibly not?"

"Shut the fuck up, my partner is here."

Shel turned to see just that. A pale, dark-eyed person with their hair dyed a pastel green balayage looked around the bar/restaurant/weirdly effective food and mixology place that isn't technically a gay bar, but the gays claimed it anyway, landed on Shel's thorn in her side (affectionate) and smiled at Lavinia.

Shel turned to Lavinia, looking positively giddy. "Oh my God, you fucking simp!" Shel made sure she sounded like she was speaking to her 5-year-old nephew.

"I am not ashamed!"

Shel rolled her eyes. "Go get them, you're too sappy."

Lavinia flipped her friend off as she went.

Shel snorted before taking out her phone. Notifications from her latest GRWM continued to flood her inbox. She hadn't felt good about her impromptu makeup look, especially for a bar. That is what happened with Lavinia. It wasn't like Shel wasn't impulsive, compared to her siblings she was running wild in a field of daisies blowing in quiet and soothing wind, the sky above her perfectly clear. However, she needed a bit of time to prepare–a day was all she asked, and as much as Shel hated to admit it, cottagecare was only pretty from a distance. If she were to sit in those daisies, her current outfit of a tight, black, long-sleeve paired with a plaid red skirt, black pantyhose, and combat boots would stick out like a sore thumb. At best, Shel would wear paired pastels, maybe a hand-sewn white dress with a hair cap once or twice a year.

Nevertheless, her look was rushed. Though her small, but growing, following couldn't seem to notice, Shel did. Her eyeshadow wasn't as clean as it should, she used a pink toned blush rather than berry toned, which didn't look too good on brown skin (lord knows makeup companies hated brown skin), and she wasn't even able to line her waterline with gold. Hell, she barely had time for highlighter. 45 minutes of notice sucked, but Shel had done what she could.
Eventually, Lavinia sat down as Oak hugged Shel from behind.

"I want to drop out," Oak groaned.

"Aren't you a semester away from graduating?" Shel asked.

Oak dramatically waved Shel off, obnoxious shushing sounds in tow before leaning over to cover Shel's mouth. "Shush," they whispered. "I fucking hate every moment of school. I want to die, but then I'm like eh better not." They sighed. "I wish I was a responsible adult, like you."

"Yeah," said Lavinia. "It's not fair that you have a whole ass job and degree and I'm over here fucking dying."

"You chose to major in dance!" Shel said.

"Technicalities."

Oak sighed. "I wish I majored in dance."
She had a point there. "The chemistry major wins." Shel finished off her drink. "Anyway, who else is supposed to come here?"

Lavinia sipped her old fashion. "You know how I did a music video with Apollo?"

"Yeah."

"Right, so I met his son and he also goes to NYU, which is a real school," Lavinia said.

Oak laughed as Shel rolled her eyes. "And yet I'm the only one of us who got a scholarship and has no debt and a stable job and lives alone." She made a show of being deep in thought. "Isn't that so interesting? I also have clear skin, better makeup than you all and hair that isn't going to fall out if I decided to straighten it!"

Oak laughed even harder at Shel's response. "I was 17 when I bleached it!" Lavinia exclaimed. "It's gotten better!"

"And who do you have to thank for that?" Shel asked. When Lavinia stayed silent, she said. "No, seriously."

"You."

"What was that? Do you mean the person with a degree in cosmetology from a beauty school is the reason your hair is healthy again?" Shel asked, just to be annoying.

It was all true, though it didn't have too much merit. It was a 2 year degree, though one she certainly worked hard for. The Carsten Institute of Cosmetology seemed to enjoy throwing everything at her. Hair, makeup, skincare, nails. She had always been passionate about those subjects, but it was difficult to be constantly thrown challenge after challenge. But, it was at one of those challenges that she worked under Paola Fernandez, the owner of a latin salon in Washington Heights. Only seven minutes away by car from where she lived in the Upper East Side. One of the, admittedly few, benefits of owning a car in New York. You didn't have to pay $35 for a seven minute drive. And the best benefit of having an HGTV power couple to have as a brother-in-law and sister. She lived in the Upper East Side, and she didn't pay rent. It was marvelous.

Lavinia glared at her. "Anyway, his son goes to NYU and he knows some cool people–that's how I met Oak, actually–and he invited me over here, and I guess he didn't know that I'm with Oak, and he said that I can bring anyone I want. I then made the mistake of bringing you."

Shel snorted. "I love you too." Lavinia gave a dramatically sweet smile. "Anyway, how many more people are supposed to come?"

Oak checked her phone. "It looks like the whole group. So, a lot."

Shel nodded. "Fun."

"Now you can finally talk to people outside of work!" Lavinia exclaimed.

"Oh my God!" Shel said, excitedly tapping Lavinia's leg. "I completely forgot to tell you about the shit that went down with one of my clients. I had a girl and because it was her birthday or whatever, I had her for skin eval, hair eval, and hair and makeup. So we had a lot of time to talk. She is dating the whore of the school. Like, he's that one senior who makes out with freshmen at dances–you know what I'm talking about?" Lavinia nodded and Oak made a comment about going to a normal school. "Right, so she made the absolutely fucking foolish desicion to date that boy, and guess what, he cheated on her. Not only did he cheat on her with her best friend, but with her best friend's boyfriend. She told me this on her birthday. Now, she originally wasn't going to go to prom, because it was a month away. I told her to come back, and she did. It turned out that not only was he sleeping with her best friend's boyfriend, he also had a whole ass relationship with one of the people on the football team. When she confronted him about it, he said that she was just a junior, he wasn't attracted to her. The plan was to go to prom and because she had a cosmetologist, she looked stunning, and she stopped by today to tell me that he tried to get back with her."

"Damn," Oak whispered. "How do you have the audacity?"

"I don't know," Shel admitted. "But she was so excited to tell me she blocked him everywhere."

"How do you get the best drama?" Lavinia asked, but someone behind Shel caught her eye. "Oh, they're here." Lavinia then started waving her arms around screaming Will's name to get their attention. "Shel."

"Lav."

"You can totally make new friends."

"Ew, no." Shel tried to take a sip of her drink, and realized her drink was empty. "I already have a big ass family, and I work in a salon. I know enough people. Can I get another one of these? Thanks." She looked over at the group coming to the corner of the bar that Shel secured. "Holy shit, how many people are there?"

"I don't know, this is my first time meeting all of them," Lavinia whispered. "I expected a maximum of six."

"That's bigger than my immediate family," Shel whispered back, even if her immediate family was much larger. "What did you drag me into?"

"What did I drag you into? What did Will drag us into."

"You say that like I know Will. I fully blame you for this. And why are all of them hot?"

"It's giving Hallmark movie."

"No, look, there are people of color. It's giving Love is Blind cast."

Lavinia paused to look at her. "Shelby... Did you watch that show?"

"I did," Shel said. "It was so bad, I love it. And I watched it with my nibling for the sole purpose of making fun of them." Lavinia cringed. "And you can't say shit, I don't understand why you like Real Housewives of OC, especially because Salt Lake is right there–"

"It's a classic," Lavinia defended.

"You all are sleeping on Selling Sunset." Oak said.

"No, my sister fucking loves that show," Shel said. "It's fucking real estate crack. Besides, y'all know we watch those shows just to make fun of them. You think I enjoyed watching Love Is Blind for the hot people, heteronormativity, unnecessary drama, and misogyny? Hell no! It was because everyone who joined that show is fucking insane. Except for that first couple."

"Aw, yeah," Oak said. "They were cute."

"You see?" Shel said. "Are they still at the entrance?"

"Yeah," Oak said. "Hang on, let me see what's going on."

Shel looked at the sheer amount of people she would have to talk to in a way that wasn't distinctly professional and turned to Lavinia. "Why did you make me come here," she whined.

"Honestly, if I knew that there would be more than three new people to you, I would have told you to stay home." Lavinia gave Shel a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine, I'm just a melodramatic bitch," Shel said, pouting. The look washed away when her drink was placed in front of her. She sat up straight and took a small sip of the liquid of the gods. "Oh, but this is so fucking good," Shel groaned. "I'm mad at you for making me socialize, but," she took another sip, "this is probably the best espresso martini I've ever had."

Lavinia gawked. "Seriously?" she exclaimed.

"Yes, 100%. Did you not taste it when you stole my drink the first time?"

"I wasn't paying attention, I just wanted to annoy you," Lavinia added, her voice indicating no remorse for her shameful actions.

Shel gasped. "How dare you. Try it."

Lavinia did. "Holy shit." She then went in for another sip.

"Dude, no! ¡Ya está bien!" Shel exclaimed, reaching for the drink. "Carajo, pinche pendejo," she muttered as someone walked up behind her.

"Annabeth's gonna go insane," said a blonde with a heavy southern accent. "You're Shel?"

"Yeah," she stuck her head out.

"Will."

"It's nice to meet you," Shel said, truly tapping into her cosmetologist voice.

"You too." Will turned around as a latine–he looked Mexican–sat by Lavinia. "That's Leo, behind you is Frank–" Shel hadn't even noticed anyone else behind her. "--and Piper is in the back with Percy and Oak, Annabeth, and... I think Grover's back there too. Hazel isn't here yet."

Shel gave a pleasant fake smile to all the people she already forgot the names of. Lavinia gave her a pleading look, Shel doubted she knew their names either. So, she took a sip on her drink, stiff enough for Lavinia to know her response.

Thankfully, Oak–their lord and savior–came back just in time to prevent any social situations. "Okay," they said, sitting beside Shel. "I think we've sorted it out."

"I just don't get it," said someone with blond knotless braids. "I don't fucking get it."

Someone beside her waved over the bartender. "Is Nico working today? Can you bring him out?" He turned to the girl. "Yeah, that fucking sucks. But guess what? We aren't thinking about performative assholes tonight! And you get free drinks."

She sighed. "That is true."

"Shel," Lavinia said. "A mediocre white man is staring at you."

"Ew, why would you even tell me that? Now I have to resist the urge to look at him," she groaned, elongating the final word.

"Behind you to the right," said Lavinia, knowing full well that Shel would look back. "Also, I have to pee, guard my drink."

Guess what? It was a mediocre white man! What a magical sight!

She gave him a quick glance and then looked away. There was nothing particularly striking about him, at least to Shel. Brown hair that looked so dry Shel was tempted to give him a hair-care regimen, pale skin, probably blue eyes. She found every man she met to look painfully average, and this man was exactly the same. So, she looked away, sliding Lavinia's drink closer to her.

Will also looked back at him. "I think he took that as a hint and is walking to you."

Shel took a stiff sip of her drink. "Jesus Christ, fuck me," she muttered.

"I could do that myself," said the man.

Shel paused, trying to process what the fuck she just heard. Based on the reactions of the people she just met, Shel's silence was clearly filled with judgment. "I'm good."

The clear dismissal wasn't enough for him. "What is it? My dick is huge."

"Doesn't matter," Shel said. "You probably don't know how to use it, and I personally enjoy knowing what an orgasm feels like. So, I'm going to stick to fucking women."

"I can–"

"No," Shel said, holding a hand up. "You cannot change that. Why don't you just take the rejection with stride instead of acting like a prepubescent child?"

"You fucking whore, you're just scared of nice men."

"Just take the L, dude," Will said.
Blond-braids-girl also contributed, telling him to fuck off. He did not.

"Jesus Christ," she muttered. She finished her drink before turning to him, glaring. "I'm not a whore, I just have good taste. If you wanted me to be nice to you, you would've opened with a line that was actually endearing and you would've left when I told you to fuck off. If you were a 'nice boy', you would have respected that. But you aren't. You are just insecure that you've yet to find a person who genuinely likes you, and your inability to make sex pleasurable. And, if you want to try and clap back again, know that I know three ways to rip off your microscopic dick. Try me." She raised a brow as someone took Lavinia's seat.

"I–"

Oak let out an exasperated laugh. "Dude, she will actually do it," they said.

"What are you? You're gonna pretend to be her girlfriend? I saw you kiss some pink girl."

Oak looked over at Shel. Sorry, they seemed to say.

The person next to Shel raised her hand. "I'm her girlfriend. Fuck off."

Shel glanced at the girl. She shouldn't have, but it was instinct. It wasn't obvious enough for the guy to notice, but just enough time to take her in. Long brown hair, just a few shades darker than the girl's skin tone. She wore a white cropped tee beneath an open black button up and beige cargo pants, complete with white high top Converse. What struck her the most was the eyes. A beautiful, deep brown that the yellows of the lights brightened, allowing bits of honey-like highlights that made the brown all the more endearing. She looked like a fuck-boy, and Shel would be damned if she were attracted to a fuck-boy.

Shel covered the glance with a blink and looked over at the boy, daring him to say something else. Finally, he left, muttering something under his breath. Shel didn't care enough to try to discern what it was. Instead she turned to the girl beside her. "Thank you."

"No problem, he's a dick."

"Dick is an understatement." Shel sighed.

At that moment Lavinia came back. "Oh, you missed it," Oak said.

"What happened?" Lavinia asked, taking back her drink, though not before Shel took a sip to annoy her. "Asshole."

"That dick you told me was staring at me came up to me. He was a 'nice guy'," Shel deadpanned.

Lavinia hugged Shel. "Sorry."

Shel shrugged. "I didn't get called a slur, like last time."

"Oh, I remember that," Lavinia said, sitting next to Oak. "Good times."

Shel was about to respond when the bartender–a new one–came into view. The guy who was comforting blond-braids-girl grinned. "My son!"

"I will leave," said the bartender, wait, no. This one is the one who made Shel's martini, and she watched him change the drink just enough for it to taste more like coffee with hints of chocolate to elevate the flavor, and Shel could have sworn she tasted hazelnut. The previous bartender put the generic ingredients together. This guy had the flavor profiles of a mixologist, but he was much too young for the job.

"Nico, are you allowed to kick people out forever?" asked blond-braids-girl.

"Why?"

Blond-braids-girl pointed at Shel, who actually wasn't paying attention until she was pulled into the conversation. "Some asshole was harassing her, but I don't know where he went."

Shel scanned the room, and landed on the guy who was in a corner, still staring at her. "I'm just going to have to beat the shit out of this man, I swear," she muttered, looking at Lavinia. "Look at the bullshit you pulled me into."

"I didn't know!"

"I said, Jesus Christ, fuck me, and this asshole opened with Oh I could do that myself. And he genuinely looked proud of that line." Lavinia laughed at that. "I blame you. He's over there, brooding like that one dude in After." She pointed to him.

Nico looked at him, muttered a curse, and took his apron off.

The restaurant business was a tedious one. Wait staff were underpaid, managers were assholes, but managers aren't being paid by supervisors, and CEOs don't care. The good thing about being a family business, was that the owner was the supervisor and the manager and, at least in the case of Shel's parents, they treated their staff like actual human beings.

Shel's brother was always athletic, and he learned how to fight for fun when he was younger. It helped him get in the military and now become a personal trainer. So, when they inevitably got a customer who was an asshole, Luis or Shel (she'd picked up a lot over the years–how to rip off a dick, for example) would take off their aprons and lead the asshole outside. The customer would always initiate, so they got to say it was self-defense. And if they couldn't, they didn't have on the uniform. They were on break.

So, when Nico took his apron off, Shel couldn't control the wide grin that pulled at her lips. She looked away when he walked over to the man, and tried to control her laughter. Shel only turned back around when guy-who-was-comforting-"blond-braids-girl" wheezed out, "Holy shit, look at him go."

Surely enough, Nico had put his jaw-length hair down–that was really smart, actually–and was pushed against a wall. Nico responded to that by kneeing the man in the groin and punching the dude square in the nose. He even punched the asshole correctly, rotating his hips for more power in his punch without the extra effort.

The Mexican guy who Shel forgot about turned to Will. "Your boyfriend is insane."

Will just smiled. "And it's a glorious sight."

"Ew, stop being in love."

"Never."

"You're doing amazing, sweetie," blond-braids-girl said. Somehow it was loud enough for Nico to hear and he turned around to look at her with an expression that read: What the fuck?

Either way, the asshole finally learned how to take a hint and left.

Nico came back, greeting Will with a quick kiss and grabbed his discarded apron. "He was already on a warning," he said. "I sincerely hope that this doesn't keep you from coming here in the future," he deadpanned.

Shel snorted. "That was pretty tame, actually."

"That was tame?" blond-braids-girl said.

Shel just shrugged. "I'm from Florida."

Lavinia cringed. "I just want to forget that about you."

"I am so sorry for your loss," said the Mexican dude.

"I mean, we have Disney," Shel said.

"Yeah, but you also have DeSantis," said the guy-who-comforted-"blond-braids-girl"

"Good point," Shel admitted.

"Don't worry," Lavinia said. "The stable adult will–"

"I will purposefully dry out your hair," Shel said over her. Lavinia laughed, but stopped talking.

"What do you do?" asked the Mexican guy.

"I'm a cosmetologist. Work with hair, makeup, skincare." Nico placed another drink in front of her, and Shel took another sip. Lord, she needed to slow down, tomorrow was Friday. She had to watch the kids.

Her phone vibrated on the bar. A text from her sister. Speak of the devil.

[exhausted]

cold shoulder: Hey! Just wanted to make sure you're okay to watch the kids tomorrow.

So fucking formal. Nora was nervous. She had been since Clara, Carlos, and Faren had come to visit to do a favor for Nora and the family. And yet Nora's husband, George fucking Greene, managed to fuck it up. Now Nora's normally grammarless texts filled with various small messages shifted to one large essay-quality paragraph. Commas and periods shackling her down to a strained baby-sitter rather than a sister.

lmao rude: yeah np

Shel closed her phone, placing it on the bar. As much as she didn't like people, she had to admit that being hit on by an asshole was certainly a way to get conversations going. It seemed that they were all interested in talking to her, but Shel was only interested in the girl beside her, who hadn't spoken since she saved Shel's ass.

So, Shel turned to her, leaning in slightly and asked, "What was your name, again?"

back again, hi.

now that scene was based on the fact that at homecoming this year, some cishet white man came to me with that opener, and i told him to fuck off

he didn't, it was a whole thing, but whatever

i go on over and tell my friend who lives in Utah, and she goes: bestie that's not normal

meanwhile i'm like: ??? lmao yeah it is

floridas just weird.

i also wanted to bring out the overall conflict with Shel earlier than i usually do, and in doing so i needed to establish her inability to take shit much earlier.

so, that's why the chapters like that. and then in the next scene i go into pipers pov and then we get into building up attraction and chemistry.

finally, i have one more scene, it's only about 500 words. so really short. therefore i did, like, five scenes since they're all pretty short

this one initially started as a character study of Nico and Hazel and their relationship, which quickly turned into the introductory chapter for my multi-fic project.

this was also the start of me using music to better understand characters, which is why there is a lot of mentions of music

i don't have a title yet, but here is what i have so far, since it's no where near done with the first draft

again, sorry in advance for formatting:

he wondered (holy shit i need to change this title—)
They were gone. Percy and Annabeth were gone, and it was all Nico's fault. Those were his only thoughts as the Argo flew away from the hole that had swallowed his friends.

Logically, Nico knew that, at least right now, Percy and Annabeth are alive. However, how long that would last was the question that sent Nico in a spiral.

He was weak. He was drained. He was still adjusting to seeing the light. Real light.

At any given moment, Nico could pass out. As much as he hated himself for that fact, he was human. But he wasn't hungry, even if he knew his body needed food. Nevertheless, he skipped dinner in the mess hall, and was instead cornered by his sister. She'd handed him his old iPod. He'd forgotten about how he'd accidentally left it in Hazel's bag. Going to hell and back would cause a lapse in memory.

"I got you these," Hazel said, handing him brand new headphones. "I figured you'd want them when we got you."

Nico blinked. "Where did you get these?"

"I saw them at a store. I doubt they'd miss a dollar, so..."

"You stole them?"

"Yes." Hazel smiled. "It was really easy, actually. People always make it seem like stealing is some elaborate scheme."

"All you need is a distraction. Then, you take whatever," Nico said. "Thank you."

Hazel just grinned. "It's nothing. Just...make sure you eat something. For me."

Nico doubted he would, but nodded anyway.

-

Nico was awake in the middle of the night. Not that it mattered, the demigods took shifts. Sleep schedules no longer existed. Still, based on the silence of the ship in the sky and the darkness that surrounded them, Nico had assumed that besides whoever was on watch, he was the only one awake. Or at least the only one who would be walking around.

He wasn't hungry, but he knew he needed some form of sustenance to survive, and Nico figured this was one of the few times he would ever get to sit in the dining hall and eat half of a sandwich without being stared at. There would be no awkward silence, since it would just be him, his sandwich, and his thoughts. It was a comfort, Nico supposed. He missed Annabeth. He missed Percy. Without them as a buffer, Hazel was drowned out and Nico was certain the only reason he was still on this gods-damned ship was because of that fucking prophecy. Because they felt he owed them, which was correct. He did owe them.

So yes, it would be a comfort to not have to think of that, even if it were for just a moment.
He grabbed a plate, and a caprese sandwich appeared atop it. A glass–which Nico hadn't even looked at–filled with basil sparkling water. Nico looked down at the sandwich, and doubted he'd be able to eat it. There was so much, and Nico's appetite had yet to come back. Even if the aroma smelled divine, his stomach churned at the thought of actually eating all of that. Still, he needed to be alive for just a tiny bit longer. If not for the fucking war, for Hazel. So, he took a few small bites and disregarded the sandwich, sticking to the water.

Demigods couldn't have phones, but Nico had found that old iPod at a pawn shop when he was 13 and had downloaded a few songs over the years. He scrolled through them all as he plugged his headphones in. Finally, he got to Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge and skipped the first few songs–almost half of the album before settling on The Ghost of You. Nico, who wasn't particularly afraid of blowing his eardrums out, turned the volume up to its max. He loved this song, and it was loud, there was no downside in his eyes. As the song reached the chorus, Nico closed his eyes preparing for the music to take over.

And it did. He couldn't hear anything else. He doubted he'd be able to even if he tried. It gave him the peace to just listen to the music, the lyrics, the parallels. The chorus hit and Nico's eyes began to burn, but he held it together until the whispered lyrics:

If I fall... down
The first tear fell as the music got louder, and Nico was sobbing. His vision blurred and a yell began to form in his burning throat. He bit his fist to keep it in, settling on loud, anguished gasps to settle it. It didn't work, so Nico covered his mouth with his hands and put his head between his legs before he screamed that guttural and heart wrenching scream. He screamed. And screamed. And screamed. Through the rest of the bridge, through the chorus, through the key change. He couldn't hear it over the music, he doubted he was really screaming at all, but he kept going. And as the song ended and paused, Nico played it again.

-

The next day, Nico went back to the dining hall. He wasn't hungry, but he wanted water.

He grabbed a glass, and one of the plates beside it. He figured he may as well try to eat something. Maybe some cheese. Upon the plate appeared a charcuterie. Nico glared at it. Did he want the cheese? Yes. However, Nico was also petty, so he didn't eat it at all.

He took a sip of his water and plugged in his headphones to his freshly charged iPod. What shall it be today? He settled on something loud, once again. But this time, he made sure to choose something he couldn't relate to in the slightest. You Know What They Do to Guys Like Us in Prison would suffice. He turned his headphones all the way up through the buildup of the song. As they reached the beginning of the chorus, Nico closed his eyes.

Say a prayer. Say a prayer, yeah. Now but I–BANG

Nico jolted, spilling his water all over his shirt and his headphones fell out of his ear. He instinctively reached for his sword, but he touched his side. He hadn't brought it with him.

"Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit," Nico heard someone mutter in the hall, replicating his internal monologue to the letter. Leo popped his head through the doorway. "Sorry," he whispered.

Nico just shrugged. "I was already up."

"Do you, like, ever sleep?"

Nico's brows creased at the question. He'd literally slept for two days straight the night (days?) prior. "Yeah?"

Leo ignored him. "You know, I think you're the only one who hasn't gotten used to my bullshit."
It's almost as if I got here, like, a week ago. Nico just shrugged once more. "I was already up," he repeated. Nico didn't wait for Leo to respond and reached for his iPod. The headphones had fallen somewhere, and the song was playing softly in the speakers of the small device.

"MCR?" Leo asked, grabbing Nico's headphones that fell. "I'm not surprised." Nico didn't know how to respond to that, and took the headphones from Leo. "I also like loud music," Leo said. "It's therapeutic. I like the story songs."

Nico hummed in approval, and stopped himself from completely dismissing the man. Nico owed them that much. Nico owed them more. "Yeah, me too," Nico said.

Leo seemed to take the minimal words as dismissal, and nodded before he left.

Nico sighed and put his headphones back in, turning the volume up and starting the song over.

He wondered what his life would be like if he was normal. Maybe he'd see these people in concert. He'd like that.

-

Nico realized he'd made his late night sessions of getting food and not eating it while listening to music at full blast when he'd gone to the dining hall for the 3rd time. He also realized that no one seemed to trust him enough to be on watch at night. He supposed he deserved that.

Nico grabbed a plate, asked for a half of a grilled cheese, got a whole ass pizza, disregarded said pizza after eating only one slice, and scrolled through his iPod. He wished he could download more songs, since MCR had a single out and Red Jumpsuit Apparatus had an EP. But, computers were too risky. Nico was a lot of things, selfish being one of them, according to the whispers Nico overheard from Piper McLean. Nico figured it was true, but no matter what, he wasn't selfish enough to find a computer and sit there while multiple albums downloaded.

He looked into the glass. Today it was filled with a clear, fizzy liquid. Soda. Ugh.

He drank it anyway.

He sighed and played Cancer. Today was pretty shit, and Nico knew that if he was patient, Mama would come blaring. Was the song about war? About death? Either way, Nico could relate. No matter what, it would be freeing.

He wondered what it would be like to live in a world where he didn't have to turn to loud rock music that had parallels to death as his therapy. He snorted at the thought. What would that even look like?

He heard something behind him, from the hallway. It seemed they were trying to be quiet, so it wasn't Leo, and Nico was pretty sure everyone else was asleep. Nico learned from his mistake the previous night and had his sword strapped to his hip. Silently, his hand reached the hilt.

He made his way to the entrance of the room, turning down his music. A chant of Are you fucking serious, repeated in his head.

As he reached the doorway, his sister appeared around the corner. "Oh, it's you," Nico said.

"Yeah," Hazel said. "Why are you up?"

Nico shrugged. "Why are you up?"

Hazel gave a small smile. "Just am. What are you doing?"

"Thinking about my life if I wasn't traumatized."

Hazel raised a brow. "I wonder what that would look like."

Nico smiled. "Me too. Like, would I have my trauma, but get help? Would the gods exist? Would Bianca still be here?"

"Okay, let's just say that everything that's happened so far happened," Hazel said. "And you could live the life you want, what would it look like?"

"I wouldn't be alive," Nico whispered, trying to keep his voice light-hearted.

Hazel snorted to hold in a laugh. It did not work. "Honestly, same."

Nico cackled, while Hazel shushed him and closed the door. "We need help."

"Okay, okay, seriously." Hazel said, then her eyes landed on the greasy pizza. "Oh, can I have some? Thanks, you're the best." She paused for a moment. "I think I would live in New Rome in a cute little house. I'd be an artist."

"You wouldn't go back to Camp Jupiter?"

Hazel shook her head, eyes focused on something far away. "No, I don't think I would. I mean, imagine I had to rule Camp Jupiter."

"Like, as praetor?"

"Yeah. That'd be a shi–schist show."

"I–what?" Nico asked. "What the fuck is a schist?"

Hazel considered that for a moment. "I don't know, actually. Anyway, it'd be a fucking shit show if I was praetor, is what I meant."

"We could give the fucking blond bitch a public execution."

Hazel laughed. "How did I know you meant Octavian?" she asked, gasping for air between giggles.

"What other blond bitch would I be talking about? Fucking...I don't know Jason?" Nico asked.

"Okay, but who cares about other people?" Hazel asked, grabbing a pizza slice. "This is about me. I would live in a really cute house where there is a place for me to paint." She shoved the pizza in her mouth. "An' I 'ould uv, gone da thool." She swallowed. "And the people in government wouldn't be little blond bitches like Octavian."

"Yeah, fuck people," Nico said.

"Literally. We only need Frank," Hazel said. "I like Frank."

"No shit."

Nico was hit on the shoulder, and he wondered what it would be like to live like this every day.

guess what? i'm back again.

idk if this is anywhere close to what the final product will look like because it was meant to be an exercise

i do like the direction it's going in though.

anyway, this was almost 8,000 words of my stuff and i hope you enjoyed

i also now have monster prom and will probably include it in a further soulmates chapter after y'all liked the damien ending so much. if you want a specific ending lmk, i'll write it in.

love y'all!