alltheglowingeyes

making a new one of these bad boys since i've mostly committed to actually using this account for my writing/art/yapping again ok HELLO i'm glow! i have no idea how to introduce myself in a paragraph so... here are some things about me:

pronouns are she/they

i'm on ao3 as @/alltheglowingeyes! i also have a fanfiction.net account but uh. i have not updated that since 2021 or so whoops

my main fandom that i post about is pjo!! i'm wracking my brain if there is anything else, but honestly the only other fandom that i interact with is interview with the vampire (specifically the show content--please talk to me about it i have So Many Things in my head)

apart from fandom posts i use this account to scream into the void so like. if you see me crashing out in the tags feel free to scroll on 😭

i'm a writer and artist! my tagging system is actually so awful right now but i'm planning to use this for any of my work posted starting 2024:

#glow does art -> any art pieces i post

#glow writes -> writing updates! this will be either cross-posted works on ao3 or wips just for tumblr :>

#glow gabs -> my 'basically everything i have ever thought tag' LMAOO, i use it on any posts that is me speaking/doing things so all my art and writing are also tagged under this!

#my wips -> any wips i post--these will be posted with the writing tag too but i like the idea of having something else just for this haha

(i think i might have posted this as a draft here before, but trying to ease back into posting and getting motivated for writing again so... repost possibly, sorry! but enjoy a little more of my michael yew backstory/a lee fletcher pov story. on ao3 here)

Lee sighs, shifting in the stiff chair for what feels like the twelfth time in ten minutes. He makes a mental note to talk to (harass) Chiron about upgrading the infirmary’s furniture—clearly, these chairs weren’t designed with the average growing teen boy in mind.

His scowl deepens as one of his folded legs bumps against an armrest. Swinging his legs over the armrest, he adjusts himself as he ensures he still has the right view for his current job: watching over the two resting demigods in the nearby cots.

Nearest to him, the girl claimed by Aphrodite lies curled on her side under a thin blanket. She looks relatively peaceful, save for the sporadic wheezing breath she takes in. They’d done what they could—cleaned the blood that had stained the lower half of her face and given as much nectar as possible for her vocal cords until Callie declared they couldn’t risk any more—but it’s clear she has a long way to go.

Lee still can’t shake the image of the girl collapsing, blood spilling from her slack mouth like something out of a horror movie. Clarisse, of all people, had looked ready to be sick at the sight, to the point that he received no push back to his desperate orders for her to go get help.

Officially, Chiron had kept the situation tightly contained to Lee, Clarisse, Callie, and Darcy. Unofficially, Lee and Clarisse hadn’t even needed to exchange a word after Chiron dismissed them and practically sprinted through camp to find Silena.

And, of course, the second she heard about her new sister, Silena demanded to see her. Unfortunately, this left Lee with the difficult task of convincing Callie to stop hovering long enough for Silena to climb through the infirmary bathroom window and sneak into the main room.

It had been worth it, though. Because the moment Silena’s gaze landed on the girl’s small frame, he knew she was attached. 

She’d left only a few minutes after, just before Callie returned from her hunt for the medical scissors that so happened to be in Lee’s back pocket. Though, not before making Lee promise that she would be first to know when the girl woke up. 

That left the kid on the other cot. The boy (nicknamed Tiny by Clarisse, because apparently hazing is now fair game the second you cross the border) sprawls on his back, snoring softly. His dark hair, still slightly damp from Callie’s earlier work, clings stubbornly to his forehead. Thankfully, the only physical sign of injury on him is a faint streak of dried blood down the side of his face, though Callie had warned them about the likelihood of a concussion. It seems like the golden light that radiated from him upon claiming dealt with some of the smaller injuries, in addition to notifying that the boy is one more for the Apollo cabin.

So, his brother, apparently.

It’s not odd for their cabin to receive new siblings, of course (Apollo gets around) but the boy’s arrival was quite the scene. Adding in the fact that both the kids had no protector guiding them to Camp, well—he can only assume the worst of what circumstances led them here.

Sighing, he readjusts again, dropping his feet back on the ground as he peers over once more to the boy. His brow furrows even in sleep, and it takes all his self-control to not step closer and smooth out the slight wrinkle that forms.

"How are they doing?" comes a soft voice from the doorway. He tears his gaze from the kids to Callie, arms full of miscellaneous supplies as she steps inside. Her auburn hair is tied back in a loose low-hanging bun that’s seconds away from falling apart, strands falling across her face as she approaches and gently places the supplies on a nearby cart.

“Still out of it,” Lee answers, drumming his fingers along his chair’s arm. “Tiny especially has been looking tense the whole time.”

Callie shoots him a look at the nickname, but nonetheless hums as she leans over to check the boy’s pulse, her fingers glowing with a flash of white-gold light as they brush his wrist. “Well, we’ll know more when he wakes. Head injuries are a little tricky, but he should be fine." 

She releases his wrist, turning back to Lee. She stares at him, scrutinizing for a moment before crossing over to where he sits and pulling him into a tight hug. He’s stiff for a moment in confusion, but almost immediately melts into her grip, burying his face into her chest.

“It’s okay if you’re worried,” she says softly as he feels a hand drag through his hair. “But they’re in good hands now. Our hands, right?”

Lee sighs, nodding once as he lets her hold him a little longer before pulling back with a small smile. “How do you always know when I’m all…” He’s not really sure how to word it, so he kind of waves his hands around his head a little and waits for his sister to get the vibe.

Callie stifles a laugh, fixing him with a warm smile. “I hate to say it, but your face is really loud, brother dearest.” 

He pouts at that, before attempting to school his expression when he realizes he’s proving her point. This time, Callie doesn’t hold back her laugh, pinching his cheek as he tries to bat her away. He opens his mouth to complain when—

The boy’s eyes shoot open, wide and unfocused. He sits up so fast the cot squeaks beneath him, gasping for air. 

Immediately, they both are standing at his side, and Lee speaks first, hands raised, palms outward. “Hey—hey. You’re safe, okay? Take a deep breath.”

His words seem to fall on deaf ears as the boy’s eyes dart around the room, breathing picking up further. He scoots backward on the cot until his back slams into the wall, hands gripping the edges of his cot. Callie steps forward, hands raised as well, but she doesn’t even get a word in before the boy hisses at her, smacking her hand away. 

Callie curses under her breath as she starts whispering something about protocol to Lee, but he doesn’t hear her. All he can focus on is the boy’s hand, no longer curled on the edges of the cot but instead with fingers flexing, grasping desperately for something.

His bow.

Lee turns to Callie, cutting off whatever instructions she’s giving him. "I’ll be right back."

Her eyes narrow at him, clearly ready to protest. But Lee is already moving, weaving through the rows of empty cots to the weapons rack near the entrance. He finds the golden bow easily, gleaming in the dim light. When he holds it, the warmth is familiar—no surprises there, really; their father’s blessing unmistakable.

When he returns, Callie’s eyes land on the bow, expression darkening. “Leander Wyatt Fletcher, don’t you dare—”

But it’s too late. The boy’s eyes quickly find the bow in Lee’s hand, breath hitching as he immediately leans forward in interest. Lee approaches slowly, crouching in front of the cot and laying the bow gently on the blanket.

For a moment, nothing happens.

Then, in a flash, the boy’s hand shoots forward, snatching up the bow. His fingers close tightly around the bow’s limb, holding it close, as though it’s his favorite stuffed animal. His breathing slows, though the suspicious look doesn’t quite leave his eyes as he glances between Lee and Callie.

"Better?" Lee asks softly. When the boy says nothing, he tries again. “Can you tell us your name?”

Silence settles again, and Lee suppresses a sigh as he prepares for his efforts to continue to go nowhere. Then, the boy clears his throat. “Michael," he mutters, barely audible. His gaze flicks between them, still very much guarded, though his grip does loosen around the bow.

Lee nods encouragingly at the reply, forcing himself to not appear overeager. “It’s nice to meet you, Michael. I’m Lee, and this is Callie. We’re…”

He falters, unsure if telling him “hey, we’re your siblings” would be coming on a little too strong. He glances to Callie for help, but she’s still glaring daggers at him. Looking back to the kid, he decides to table the sibling talk for another time. “We’re here to help you.”

Michael stays quiet at Lee’s response, and before he can speak up again, Callie cuts in. “Michael, would you like some water?”

He doesn’t move, still glaring, for a moment, before nodding minutely.

“Great, we’ll get you a bottle. Sit tight for a second, please.” As she begins to turn away, she wraps a hand around his arm, pulling him away. “And you, step outside with me. Now."

Lee throws one last glance at Michael, still curled protectively around the bow, before following his sister. The second they’re out of earshot, Callie rounds on him, previously warm blue eyes now the color of winter frost.

“What the fuck was that?”

“I—”

“He was panicked and violent,” Callie cuts him off. “And what—you give him a bow? You don’t give patients weapons. That’s why we have the weapons rack. Do you know how much of a hazard that is?”

“I didn’t give him arrows! Just the bow.”

"And that makes it so much safer? He could’ve easily attacked us!"

Lee opens his mouth to argue but stops himself, sighing instead. “Okay, well—” he starts, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just wanted to make sure he felt safe, and I followed my instinct. You’re right, though—it was dangerous. I’m sorry.”

Callie glare softens slightly, though she still crosses her arms tightly over her chest. “You ever undermine my infirmary rules again, and I’m pulling you from the rotation for a month.”

Lee raises an eyebrow. He knows now is not the time to tease, but he can’t ignore an opportunity to wind up his sister. “I think you’re overestimating how much I like working here, Cal.”

As he expected, her scowl deepens as she reaches out a hand to lightly smack him upside the head. “Go get the water, dummy. I’m going to talk to him.”

Lee salutes with a proud, “Okie dokie,” earning an eye roll in reply. As she turns back toward Michael, he catches the faintest twitch of a smile on her lips, though he’s sure the muttering under her breath is still unflattering.

Grinning, Lee ducks into the office, heading for the mini fridge. He grabs two water bottles and pauses before snagging a grape juice box and a pudding cup. Closing the fridge with his foot, he rummages in a drawer for a spoon, tucking it into his back pocket before hurrying back to the main room.

Nothing seems to have changed—at least, not at first glance. The bow is gone, but Lee spots a new glint of gold circling Michael’s finger. Michael’s arm is outstretched, his gaze flickering warily between Callie’s face and her softly glowing hand, which rests lightly against the underside of his wrist.

The moment he enters, Michael’s head snaps up, his sharp eyes locking onto him. They flit quickly to the items Lee is holding, and his tense expression is overrun by hunger.

Lee places the bottles of water and grape juice on the counter before stepping closer. He hands over the pudding cup and pulls the spoon from his back pocket, offering it with a small smile. “If you want another flavor, let me know.”

Almost immediately, Michael jerks his arm away from Callie, much to her clear annoyance, and snatches the pudding cup. Without a word, he tears it open and digs in, practically inhaling the food.

Callie pinches the bridge of her nose. She glances to Lee, as though to ask are you seeing this?  Hejust shrugs, stepping back to give the boy some space.

She steps back as well, glancing toward the doorway as footsteps start approaching and Darcy appears, pantomiming something frantic. With a sigh, she pats Lee on the shoulder. “Okay, well I need to step out for a bit. Don’t let him out of your sight, okay?”

Lee nods as Callie disappears, her voice drifting faintly back to him as she joins Darcy. Left alone, Lee shifts awkwardly before sitting down again, stealing glances at Michael, who is already scraping the bottom of his pudding cup.

“So,” Lee starts slowly, “did Callie get to tell you much before I came back?”

Michael shakes his head, his dark eyes darting up briefly before he sticking his entire face in and licking at his near-empty pudding cup.

Looks like it’s your time to do some big brothering then. “Okay, cool. Well, um, anything you want to know?”

Michael pauses, then nods toward the other cot. “Is Drew going to be okay?” he asks, voice quiet.

Lee makes a mental note of the name for Callie later, nodding. “Yeah, she’s just exhausted herself getting you both here. She was really brave, so now she gets to rest. Do you remember what happened before this?”

Michael squints, chewing on the edge of his plastic spoon. “The ugly cab driver and his friend were trying to kill us,” he says slowly. “I shot one, but then it grabbed me and threw me, and my head was hurting...”

Oof. Lee can’t help but wince at the events, but does his best to keep it off his face for too long. “Well, good news is your friend seems to have dealt with the other.” Nodding to the ring on his finger, he asks, “You shot the monster with your bow?”

Michael’s expression tightens, the finger with the ring twitching momentarily. After a moment, he nods.

“Where did you get the bow?”

Michael’s eyes narrow. “I didn’t steal it, jackass.”

Lee blinks, caught off guard by the cursing. The kid looks like he couldn’t be older than nine, and Lee’s pretty sure nine-year-olds aren’t supposed to talk like that. He raises his hands in mock surrender. “Wasn’t accusing you, dude. Just curious. It looks neat.”

Michael hesitates, still wary, but he can’t quite hide the way he preens under the compliment. “It is. God gave it to me.”

Lee’s brows knit together in confusion. He has a pretty good idea which “god” Michael might mean, but the singular term throws him. “God?”

Michael nods firmly. “In my dreams. Blonde, tan, big talker.”

Lee’s eyebrows shoot up. Sure, Apollo’s more sociable than most gods, but usually, he’s an absentee dad until a kid makes it to camp. “So you met Apollo already?”

Michael’s brow furrows. “The fuck is that?”

Lee purses his lips, briefly glancing skyward to ensure no sudden lightning strikes him. “Apollo. He’s the god you’re talking about. My—or our—uh...” He falters, unsure if introducing the whole “sibling” concept now is a good idea.

Michael cuts him off. “Since when does God have a name?”