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A boy sat on the floor against a couch, his cornrows splayed on the mustard-yellow cushions. He was about fourteen, dressed to the nines in black dress pants and a deep violet suit jacket, which contrasted greatly with the vibrancy of the room that surrounded him. On his nose perched a pair of violet sunglasses to match the suit, and across his lap, nearly camouflaged against his pants, was a saxophone case, cracked open to reveal the shimmering bronze of the instrument.
The boy sat like that for a moment, clearly allowing himself to bask in the glory that is the limelight, before sitting up. He crossed his legs underneath the saxophone case, and glanced at the camera over the frames. “Hello, and welcome to my channel.”
The video changed to a quick clip of the boy playing a jovial tune on the saxophone, colorful, edited music notes combining to say SUPERB SAXOPHONIST on top of the screen.
The scene cut back to the boy on the ground as he slowly took off his sunglasses. “My name’s Austin Lake, aka Superb Saxophonist, a teen jazz musician from Ohio who now lives in Harlem. If this is your first video—welcome! If you’re returning—welcome back! I am very grateful for each and everyone one of you. Normally, this is where I say if you like this content to like, comment, and subscribe, but I’m gonna be real with you guys here: this video is unlike anything I have on my channel. That being said, I’d still really appreciate it if you could press those little buttons on the screen and maybe give my other videos a watch? It would really help me out.”
Austin clapped his hands once, letting the sound echo through the room. “Now with all the boring stuff out of the way, let’s get on with the video!”
The scene flashes, and Austin now sat on the steps of what appeared to be a cabin made entirely of gold; every inch reflected the sun’s rays so harshly it was a miracle the grass around its perimeter hadn’t been burnt to a crisp. His outfit was different now too: a black peacoat unbuttoned atop a white button-up paired with black jeans and brown boots, and the saxophone case laid on the top step beside him, a lavender hyacinth and another yellow flower resting on it.
“So, if you haven’t been living in a pineapple under the sea, you’ve probably seen something about the fact that the Greek deities are alive and well, and all the jazzy stuff. If you didn’t know that, I’m surprised you even found my video, because clearly you haven’t turned on an electronic since the Achaeans besieged Troy.” He chuckled lightly. “Jokes aside, the truth is, the world’s been in total chaos since the Mist—that’s the magical force field that’s supposed to keep the mythological and mortal realms separate—dissipated, and, well, everyone’s been acting different since this whole revelation; which, I guess makes sense because it does change the entire world as people previously knew it, but I digress. We need some normalcy on the internet.
“Though, I guess you could also argue that me making this video, which isn’t a classic jazz cover or an educational video on the history of jazz music, is me deviating from normalcy, but ignore that. This is the video the public needs right now; me living my life as me. But don’t worry, I’ll incorporate some jazz into this.
“You’re probably wondering: Austin, how have you managed to keep some semblance of normalcy in these trying times? And for that I have a simple answer: I already knew all this crap.”
Austin spread out his arms like he was giving a sermon, “I am what the media’s currently calling ‘demonic half-breeds’, which is incredibly racist by the way, and not just because I’m black. The real term for us is demigods and half-bloods, and we’ve been living like this with monsters and deities since the dawn of time.
“If you don’t believe me, I don’t know what to tell you; I don’t really have the flashiest of powers, especially compared to some of my half-siblings, but I can curse people into speaking only in rhyming couplets for an extended period of time. So, I would believe me if you don’t want to be the next William Shakespeare—” His voice trailed off for a moment.
“Actually, scratch that. William Shakespeare gets too much recognition. He’s my brother, you know? We’re over 400 years apart, and I still have to live in his shadow despite us not even specializing in the same domain! Uhg. So, be the next Leung Yan instead, I like Yan as a sibling much better than Willie Shakes.
“Crap, I got side-tracked.” He stood up, reaching over to pick up the saxophone case and swing it over his shoulder. “So, yeah, I’m a demigod. Surprise. Son of—” His grin doubled in size, “Actually, pause this video real quick and put your guess in the comment section as to who is mine, and William Shakespeare’s, bleh, godly parent.”
He paused for a moment. “Are you back? Alright, the answer is: Apollo! Not that surprising, I know, since he’s the god of music. Or, as my siblings and I like to joke: the sun and almost everything under it.” He chuckled. “Dad always says we exaggerate, but he’s such a hypocrite in that regard. As anyone who’s ever met him, or even read a myth about him.”
He climbed down the steps and the camera zoomed out to reveal the entirety of the cabin in all its blinding glory. “This is the cabin built in his honor. If you think it’s blinding over video, I can assure you it’s 100% worse in person. It’s like King Midas personally visited us.”
Austin paused again. “Actually, I’m not supposed to make Midas jokes since Dad’s friends with his son who has trauma from turning into a gold statue, but I’ll ask for permission to put that in because that’s comedy gold.” Austin let out a bark of laughter. “Oh, I’ve got to keep this now.”
He quickly skipped up the steps. “So, to give the world some normalcy I’m going to be bothering a bucketload of my siblings. Not all of them, obviously, because that would make this the longest video in YouTube history, and also like, three quarters of them are dead, and I can’t—” Austin glanced over the camera, “Ben, I had an idea, table that for later.”
“Got it,” a boy’s voice from behind the camera called back.
“So, let’s bother the first of the siblings on my list, my little sister Gracie!”
The screen went dark, and in a pastel yellow color the name GRACIE PARKER appeared in all caps, with LIGHT SPECIALIST underneath it.
Austin now sat on the top bunk, his legs swinging over the edge towards the camera, his saxophone hung over his neck. Beside him sat a girl probably a year or two younger than him, her long, curly hair falling over the bars of the bed like she were Rapunzel. On her lap was a case filled with rainbow loom bands.
“I should probably explain the whole specialist thing,” Austin said, fiddling with the keys. “So, basically, we all have one of Dad’s domains where the strongest of our powers come from which we call our specialty. Then, most of us also have two to three of Dad’s domains where we have weaker, or not as many, powers from. I, for example, am a music specialist with some poetry and knowledge domain powers. Gracie here is—”
“Light specialist with music and archery!” Gracie exclaimed. She held out her hand towards the lightbulb on the ceiling and it shut off, a ball of light forming in her hand. She split the ball into three and began juggling it. “Oh, I can also speak to cows. They say the darndest things.”
“Did I ever tell you about the raven?”
Gracie let go of the light so they could float back to the bulb. “No! What raven?”
“Before I knew I could talk to ravens, there was this one who would sit on the windowsill of my bedroom in Ohio and would, I kid you not, just say ‘Nevermore’.”
“Like Poe?”
“Just like Poe,” Austin agreed. “And for the longest time, I thought raven’s legitimately said nevermore, and when I was in fifth grade, my teacher brought up the poem and I said that he was unoriginal because all ravens just said nevermore and I got sent to the school counselor for a psych evaluation.”
Gracie, and the boy behind the camera both let out a howl of laughter. Austin himself cracked a smile. “It was confusing and terrifying in the moment, but kinda funny in hindsight.”
Gracie wiped a tear from her eyes. “That’s the best thing I’ve heard all week. Is this over? I’ve got to tell Lacy.”
“Are you really spilling my woes to your girlfriend?”
“You’re posting this on YouTube!”
“Potato, potato.”
“Don’t bring the potatoes into this!”
Austin gave her a noogie, which made Gracie squeal. “I almost forgot, we’ve got a certified Idahoian here.”
Gracie smacked his hand. “Shut it. Are we done yet?”
Austin chuckled. “Sure. Any final remarks you want the world to know about you?”
She tapped her chin in thought. “I can play the timpani, and I’m a lesbian.”
He gave her a high five before blowing an elongated chord on his saxophone, which made Gracie jump, and her rainbow loom bands scattered on the bunk bed.
“Austin!” she shrieked.
The screen went black again, and this time the letters were in both English and Cantonese: LEUNG YAN, POETRY SPECIALIST.
Austin sat on a blanket on a grassy field cleaning his saxophone, a kid around the same age as Gracie sat beside him. The kid’s hair fell to their shoulders pin straight, and they hunched over a notebook that they were scribbling in.
“Remember when I said if I curse you you’d be the next Leung Yan?” Austin spread out his arms like Vanna White, careful not to disturb his sax. “This here, is the one and only Yan.”
Yan’s cheeks darkened. “I hate you.”
“Love you too.” Austin kicked their ankle with the tip of his shoe. “Yan’s genderqueer, they/them, and if I see hate comments, I will steal your kneecaps and curse you to speak only rhyming couplets. I have some sight into the knowledge domain, I know all. Speaking of which, want to say what Dad stuff you got?”
Yan tucked their pen behind their ear. “Um, Poetry specialist,” they said. “Some music, knowledge, and prophecy.”
“Yan’ll predict the downfall of all the homophobes, right?”
Yan hid a smile behind their hand. “It doesn’t work like that, but I have been practicing throwing knives with Kayla and Jay.”
Austin chuckled. “That’s way better than stealing kneecaps. That’s really only threatening when Will does it with his medical knowledge.”
“Yeah.” Yan pulled out their pencil and started jotting down more words. “Also, while Austin can curse rhyming couplets, I can curse people to speak entire sonnets, limericks, villanelles, cinquain, haikus, you name it.”
From behind the camera a voice piped up, “My brother, Shane, spoke only in some crazy rhyme scheme I don’t remember the name of for a week after making fun of Yan’s swear jar.”
“Terza rima,” smiled Yan. “It’s what Dante wrote The Divine Comedy in.”
“Right,” Austin shifted away from his younger sibling. “On that note,” he blew the saxophone again and the screen went dark.
This time the screen read: JERRY HUGHES, PLAGUE SPECIALIST and in the small corner was a gif of someone throwing tea into a harbor like they were recreating the Boston Tea Party.
In the center of the screen was a boy around Austin’s age, maybe a year younger, sitting on a stool perfectly still, as if he were modeling. Austin sat on a folding chair in the corner of the screen, once again, showcasing his saxophone.
“Jerald here—”
“—not my name, Austinella.”
Austin stuck his tongue out towards Jerry. “As I was saying, Jerald here forgot he promised me, his favorite brother, to be in my video and also promised his girlfriend to be her model for her painting, so we have to multitask.”
“We had to reconfigure the entire Arts and Crafts Pavilion so that Ben’s wheelchair could fit beside Ol’s easel.”
“Ben’s my camera man, if you didn’t know. He’s a son of Hephaestus. Say hi, Ben.”
“Hi,” Ben said.
“So, Jay, tell us a bit about your Apollo-ie gifts.”
“Er,” he went to run his hand through his hair, before remembering he was supposed to stay still. “Sorry, Ol. Er, I’m a plague specialist; making people sneeze, giving boils, that sort of stuff. Can’t start an epidemic, that would be mad.”
“Bonkers, really.”
“Piss off.”
Austin grinned, tapping his sax. “No, thanks. I’m good.”
“You’re the worst.”
“That’s true, innit,” Austin said, before letting out a sharp cackle.
Jerry’s eyes glared towards his brother, before pointing at Austin. Instantaneously, Austin had a sneezing fit; one, two, three violent sneezes that nearly made him fall off his chair.
“Asshole,” Austin said as he pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose. “I’m going to reenact the Boston Tea Party tomorrow.”
“Austin, you are such a tosser. I can’t believe you’re a double-crosser.” Jerry paused before pushing to his feet, ignoring the squeal from behind the camera. “You fucking cursed me, you arse. Your days are going to be sparse!”
“On that note—” Austin blew his saxophone before bolting off screen, Jerry following, before it faded to black.
The screen briefly read: THEY UNCURSED EACH OTHER. NO CHILDREN OF APOLLO WERE HARMED IN THE MAKING OF THIS VIDEO - BEN, CAMERAMAN, SON OF HEPHAESTUS. Before it changed to read: KAYLA KNOWLES, ARCHERY SPECIALIST.
Austin stood on the waiting line in an archery range beside a girl who appeared to be around his age. She had green hair, with ginger roots, and was finishing up stringing a recurve bow when the camera turned on.
“I’m here now with my sister, Kayla! Member of Team Canada’s Archery Team!”
“If I’m not kicked off,” Kayla grumbled, slinging her bow over her shoulder. “There’s been a campaign going to ban demigods from mortal sports—which, I’ve trained my whole life to be an Olympian, and now I’m gonna be banned before I even get to compete.”
“Well, I’ve actually been explaining some of our powers to everyone in my video,” Austin told her. “Do you want to explain being an archery specialist, and maybe they’ll realize they’re being stupid and you have no biological advantage over anyone?”
Kayla shrugged. “As Austin said, I’m an archery specialist. My powers are designed to help me when facing monsters and foes; basically I can know where exactly the most deadly part of my foe is, I can track my arrow and know where I hit even if I can’t see it anymore, and I have an innate sense to know exactly how fast what I’m trying to shoot is moving, so that I can know about where to aim to hit it. I have absolutely no advantage in archery competitions, since the targets are stationary. Being able to shoot as well as I do comes from years of practice, not being a demigod.”
“There you have it!” Austin grinned. “Don’t ban Apollo kids from archery competitions, please! Now,” Austin elbowed her. “You wanna talk a little about your minor powers?”
“Sure.” Kayla put her hands in her pockets. “I also have healing and truth powers. Oh, and I can talk to swans.”
“Better than ravens,” grumbled Austin.
Kayla chuckled. “Did Poe come back?”
“Thankfully not.” Austin unslung his saxophone case. “You have anything you want to say to the world before you go practice?”
Kayla looked straight in the camera, hands together like she was praying. “Please let me into the Olympics, I’ve been training my whole life for this.”
“You heard it here, folks. Kayla Knowles for Team Canada 2025.” Austin did his signature chord before the screen went dark again.
This time it read: WILL SOLACE, HEALING SPECIALIST.
Austin sat on a bed with his saxophone in what seemed to be a medical facility. A boy who was older than Austin, but definitely not old enough to be a doctor, sat beside him in a doctor’s coat with a stethoscope slung around his neck.
“So, this is our head healer in the demigod world. My brother, Will Solace! I would like to note that, yes, he’s sixteen, but he’s the best we got.”
Will gave a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, and waved. “I’ve been the head healer of the Greek demigods since I was eleven. Please ignore the ethical concerns about that.”
“I mean, we currently have an eight year old Hephaestus kid who runs around camp with a full sized flamethrower that he put smiley face stickers on. I don’t think we’re really concerned about ethics.”
Will groaned, and behind the camera, Ben said. “Don’t bring Harley into this!”
“I’ve been ready for retirement since the day I was born,” Will said. “And I haven’t even started college yet”
Austin nodded. “Will keeps saying he wants to leave us and go with our brother Asclepius's kids, but we all know he loves us too much to go through with it.”
“I’m really tempted,” grumbled Will.
Austin jabbed him in the ribs. “So, Will! Besides being a healing specialist, what other powers do you have?”
Will rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not like the rest of the Apollo kids with really awesome—”
“Shut up, Will,” a voice from behind the camera, one that was not Ben, said. The voice was deeper and had the twinge of an accent, like the person forgot they had it. “You’re literally a Care Bear.”
Will’s cheeks darkened. “Shut it, Neeks.” He rubbed his face, as if trying to rid it from the redness. “Um, I can glow? My boyfriend likes to call that my Care Bear powers since I can shoot the light from a concentrated area, I guess.”
“Stop being modest,” Austin said. “It’s impressive for a non-light specialist.”
“The world’s going to see this,” Will mumbled.
“And?”
Will ran a hand through his hair. “I also have a super-sonic whistle, which I guess falls under music, but nothing else music-related. A little bit of plague, and protection of the youth.”
“Will can calm children, and adults too, down with simply a smile,” Austin said. “It’s pretty awesome to see. If only Will wasn't so self-deprecating. He’s literally reattached limbs before!”
“Don’t gross out the mortals,” Will said. “Not everyone thinks limb attachments are interesting like I do.”
“Comment down below if you think limb attachments are interesting and think Will here should yap about them in his own video!”
“Wait, I never said I was going to—”
Austin cut him off with a blow of his saxophone.
The screen went dark again and this time, three names read across the top: MICHAEL YEW, ARCHERY SPECIALIST, LEE FLETCHER, POETRY SPECIALIST, WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, POETRY SPECIALIST, AKA SOME OF MY DEAD SIBLINGS.
Austin was holding the camera, his sax hung around his neck, which bumped as he trudged through a forest. “Remember when I said jot down an idea earlier? Well, this was the idea: Will’s boyfriend, Nico, is the son of Hades, and one of his powers is that he can summon the dead. So, I asked him to summon a few of my dead siblings so that they could be in this video. Unfortunately, ghosts only like to be summoned at night in a remote location that is not wheelchair accessible, so I gave Ben the day off.
“Originally, I was only going to summon Michael and Lee, but then I decided I would ask Nico to summon Willie Shakes too, just so that the world could see how obnoxious he is.
“I can’t show the actual summoning part, since this is strictly a don’t do this at home, kind of activity, so Ben is going to edit in some soft jazz music and a wonderful edit of me to entertain you.”
Just as Austin said, the scene cut to an edit of Austin playing a Louis Armstrong song.
When the scene returned, Austin had passed the phone to someone else, and was standing by a hole in the ground surrounded by Happy Meal boxes and a kneeling boy in dark clothing that would have camouflaged into the darkness if not for his pale skin. Floating above the hole were three male figures.
The first one was tiny; significantly shorter than Austin, with spiky hair and scrunched up, ferret-like features. The second’s hair resembled a cloud with its fluffy curls. The third, as Austin said he would be, was William Shakespeare.
“Aussie! Willie!” The tiny boy said, floating over to attempt to give Austin a noogie, but failing since he wasn’t corporeal, and then floating out of view for a moment before returning on the other side of the camera. “You’ve both fucking grown, how dare you?”
Austin chuckled. “Sorry, Mike.”
William Shakespeare stared at the camera, curiosity oozing from his look. “May I inquire what’s in thy hand?”
Austin glanced at the camera, then at Shakespeare. “Oh, that’s a camera. It’s taking what’s called a video of us. Like a moving picture, I guess? People will be able to watch this all over the world”
“A camera?” Shakespeare floated towards it and reached his fingers towards the lens. “Odd, indeed. But, splendid that the world is truly thy stage, if thoust can truly showeth the whole world thy art.”
“Yeah, pretty cool,” Austin agreed. “So, tell the world about being an Apollo kid. Nico or Hades has told you about the mist going bye-bye, right?”
“Yeah,” Lee said. “I’ll go first. Hi, I’m Lee Fletcher! I died at nineteen during a battle a few years ago, and when I was alive I was a poetry specialist, with minor healing, music, and truth powers.”
“Will, who’s holding the camera, and I published his poems post-mortem,” Michael said, “So, I’d check them out or I’ll haunt you!”
“My father won’t let you haunt mortals,” Nico said, drawing in the ground.
“Let me live my death, di Angelo.”
“That’s oxymoronic,” Will said from behind the camera.
“I don’t care.” Michael grinned. “My turn, I guess. I’m Michael, died at seventeen the year after Lee did, archery specialist. I could heal too, had some music powers, and could talk to ravens.”
Austin jumped in. “They’re so annoying, right?”
“Half of them just quote Edgar Allan Poe,” agreed Michael.
“Exactly!” Austin threw his left hand in the air, his right firmly holding onto his sax. “Willie Shakes, your turn.”
“That is not my name, younger brother,” Shakespeare said.
Austin shrugged. “Don’t care.”
“Doth thou always annoyeth thy brethren?”
“Yes,” Lee, Michael, and Will said simultaneously.
“Lovely,” said Shakespeare. “As thou couldst guesseth, my specialty was the art of poetry, though I also dabbled with truth and prophecy.”
“See what I mean, annoying,” Austin said. “That’s my cue to—” Austin blew the saxophone so that the screen faded to black.
The screen read: KEPHISO, APOLLONIS, & BORYSTHENIS, THE MUSES APOLLONIDES.
“The thing with being a demigod is that you have godly siblings,” Austin said. He sat on a log in an amphitheater with three young, timeless women around him, all holding lyres. The one to the left’s hair was pin straight and dark, and her eyes were the color of the sea; beside her, a blonde woman with perfect ringlets, and lastly a woman with dirty blonde hair.
“These are my godly sisters, the Muses Apollonides.”
“Not to be confused with the Nine Muses or the Elder Muses,” the blonde goddess said. “I’m Apollonis, goddess of the middle note in the lyre.” She played the note to demonstrate.
“I’m Borysthenis, the highest note,” the goddess with dirty blonde hair said, her voice higher than Apollonis’, before she too played her chord.
“And I’m Kephiso, the lowest note.” Kephiso did the same as her sisters. Unsurprisingly, her voice was the deepest of the three.
“So, some questions for you guys,” Austin began. “What’s it like with the mortals knowing you exist?”
“Most mortals still don’t know us,” Kephiso said. “The Nine Muses get all the credit.”
“Very true,” agreed Borysthenis.
“I keep getting prayers asking how I feel about Disney’s Hercules,” Apollonis said. “Which is silly, because that isn’t even supposed to be me! But the songs are actually really good. I watched it a couple days ago for the first time after the umpteenth prayer and I’ve been listening to Zero to Hero. Non-stop. It’s sad how inaccurate the movie is though, Heracles is not that nice. Last month, I was talking with Hebe, his wife, and he interrupted me and didn’t even let me finish my story about the time Borysthenis tripped over a grand piano.”
“Good for him, that story isn’t funny at all,” Borysthenis said.
Kephiso gave a small smile. “It was kind of funny, Bory.”
Borysthenis huffed.
“I definitely need to hear that story,” Austin said.
Borysthenis yelled, “No!” just as Apollonis began, “A little while ago—”
Borysthenis put her hand over Apollonis’s mouth. “That story is not going on YouTube.”
“If you want to know the story, pray to me,” Apollonis winked at the camera. “Fifty-thousand prayers and I’ll make a story time.”
“No, you won’t!”
“Watch me!”
Kephiso leaned towards the camera. “If I get fifty-thousand prayers, I’ll make a video on the time Apollonis tried to get a date with an actor a few thousand years ago.”
“You would not!”
“There you go, pray to the Muses Apollonides for all the tea,” Austin chuckled. “Thanks for answering my prayers to be in my video.”
“No problem,” Apollonis said. “I love the spotlight.”
“Too much,” muttered Borysthenis.
“Hypocrite!” screamed Apollonis.
In tandem with that, Austin blew his saxophone, signalling the fade to black.
The black screen this time read: ARISTAEUS, GOD OF BEES, CHEESE, AND OLIVE-GROWING.
Austin stood in a field in a beekeeper uniform, his saxophone still around his neck despite his face not visible. Next to him stood an older man in the same attire.
“Ben and I managed to make it all the way to Wisconsin to bother my next sibling! And we’ve got fancy outfits to prove it.”
“Fancy’s one way to put it,” Ben said.
“It’s the epitome of fancy, thank you very much, Bin.”
“It’s Ben,” mumbled Ben.
“So,” Austin cut off. “This is Lord Aristaeus, god of bees, cheese, olive-growing, and probably some other really niche things I don’t know about.”
Aristaeus held out his hand and one of the bees flew into it. “Melittology and fromology are dying arts.”
“Very much so,” Austin agreed.
“Industrialization is ruining our industry. That’s why I like it here in Wisconsin. People wear cheese hats.”
“The peak of fashion.” Austin agreed. “Do you have any pressing matters to tell all the mortals watching?”
“Support your local beekeepers and cheesemakers,” he said. “Do you want to bring some honey back, little brother?
Austin smiled. “Sure. Let me just,” he lifted up the mesh and let out a loud blow, before a few bees started to swarm him.
Aristaeus yelled “Wait, Beatrice, stop!” as the scene cut to black.
The message read: ARISTAEUS SAVED US, THANK HIM - BEN, CAMERAMAN, SON OF HEPHAESTUS, before flashing to another message: ASCLEPIUS, GOD OF MEDICINE.
“Welcome to an underground passage in Epidaurus, Greece!”
Austin spread his arms out. “It’s time to meet my most famous sibling, barring Willie Shakes, bleh! The Greek God Asclepius, or Dad’s undisputed favorite that he refuses to admit.”
Austin stood next to an older man in a medical coat, a pair of glasses perched on his nose. “Father just believed my death was unfair.”
“Right,” Austin trailed off. “So, tell the world a little about you.”
Asclepius frowned. “Well, I am Lord Asclepius, god of medicine, and I am centered here in Epidaurus. I have a wife, Lady Epione, goddess of soothing pain, and we have five daughters who also followed in our medical domains: Hygeia, Panakeia, Aigle, Iaso, and Akeso.”
“There’s a statue of Hygeia who sits in the waiting room,” Austin said, “She freaks me out.”
“She’s a bit more germophobic in real life,” Asclepius admitted. “Goddess of hygiene and good health and all.”
“That makes sense.”
“Aigle’s nice though, she helped us work the really weird elevator you’ve got.”
“Yes, yes.”
“So, how’s your life changed with the mist disappearing?”
Asclepius pushed up his glasses, a clipboard appearing out of nowhere. “Well, a lot of doctors have begun praying to me. I haven’t received this many prayers in millenia. Also, Hermes made that PSA about the difference between my rod and his caduceus last week, so there’s that too.”
“I saw that,” Austin said, “Very important PSA.”
Asclepius hummed. “I think that’s everything. I do appreciate the prayers, though the people sacrificing me apples for the apple a day keeps the doctor away rhyme should know that I am allergic.”
“Gods can have allergies?” Austin exclaimed.
Asclepius chuckled, “How do you think the rhyme began?”
“I don’t—” Austin lifted up his sax so that it tapped his lips. “Before my brain explodes, let me just.” He blew the saxophone.
The black screen this time read: CLOSING THOUGHTS WITH BEN & DAD: GOD OF THE SUN & NEARLY EVERYTHING UNDER IT.
A boy sat next to Austin in the back of a car, holding a phone to showcase the two of them. “I know you’re thinking; Austin, Ben, how did you get to Greece and Wisconsin from New York? And the answer is simple—” the camera flipped to show a young man decked in the shiniest pair of Raybans known to man, his blonde hair braided down his back. “My dad, Apollo, drove us! Dad, say hi to the general public.”
Apollo chucked, “Hello, general public.”
The camera flipped back to Austin and Ben. “So, that’s a wrap on me bothering my siblings; I hope it gives everyone the sense of normalcy we crave in a time like this. I hope it helps that gods and demigods are just as wild as mortal siblings. I mean, Dad and Aunt Artemis annoy each other all the time, right?”
“All the time,” Apollo agreed.
“So, like I said in the beginning; it would be great if you like, comment, subscribe, the whole works.”
“If I see any hate comments, I will personally send a plague against your entire family,” Apollo’s voice said.
Ben’s eyes widened while Austin rolled his eyes. “You said you were going to stop the mass murdering, Dad.”
There was a hum. “Just let the public know that you can’t hide behind a screen from a god, especially the god of knowledge. Speaking of which, you can use the Midas joke."
“Yes! On that fun note, thanks for watching!”
superbsaxophonist I bother my (half-god and godly) siblings!!!!
10M views
@abcdefg Austin Lake being a demigod was not on my bingo card
⇒ @thegodsarerealyippeeskippee William Shakespeare being in a YouTube video wasn’t on mine
@randomuser101 poor kayla. i’m not canadian but #kaylaforteamcanada
@thiswasnotonmybingocard can I start a gofundme to send Will Solace on a vacation with his bf??? he looks like he needs it.
⇒ @randomuser234 this^^^^
@randomauthor I WENT TO MY FRESHMAN YEAR OF COLLEGE WITH LEE FLETCHER! I thought he transferred out, I didn’t realize he died 😭😭😭 RIP Lee you were a real one for doing our Critical Methods presentation I completely forgot about.
@theatreexpert I HATE YOUR GUTS, AUSTIN! I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU CURSED ME
⇒ @superbsaxophonist YOU DESERVED IT FOR MAKING ME SNEEZE.