Patrick loves the tentacle beds. Bob is not so sure.

Two very different people fall in love with a boy called death. Finding each other is chance. Falling for each other isn’t. This is their story. (Or in which Nico is Death with a capital D, Annabeth is a serial killer, and Percy is the poor schmuck who falls for both of them.)

Tyler thought things would be different in Dallas. He just had no idea how different it could be.

Keith stood under the hot spray of the shower head, his eyes closed as he focused inward, trying desperately to regain some sense of composure. He wasn’t quite certain what was wrong with him today; he was the one moving out of sync in their training exercises, he’d run himself into an invisible maze-wall so hard he was dizzy for a quarter hour after it, and he swore he could still feel the static jolt under his skin. When Shiro had touched his shoulder, eyes concerned, his touch was like a fresh electric current and Keith had yanked himself away.