#lee fletcher | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mediumgayitalian · 2 months

Text

“Did you wash your face?”

“Yes.”

“Brush your teeth?”

“Yes.”

“Brush your hair?”

“…Yes.”

As soon as he says it, he coughs. A freckled hand moves to itch at his throat, rub at slowly puffing eyes.

“You, William Andrew,” Lee says, grinning, “are a liar.”

Will scowls. “Am not!”

The effect of his glare is significantly undermined by the redness of his eyes and the cough that interrupts him mid-sentence. Shaking his head, Lee leans into his bunk and scoops his brother up, heading to the Big House. He slides his hand in tangled, curly hair as Will rests his head on his shoulder, still breathing heavily.

“I can feel the knots in your hair, doofus.”

Will curls up tighter in his hold, muffling another cough in his elbow. “Nuh-uh.” He sniffles. “Hey, Lee, am I dying?”

Lee snorts. “No, you’re not dying.” He ducks into the back entrance of the infirmary, flicking on the lights and setting Will on the counter of the nurse’s station.

Will’s brow furrows. “Then what?”

With his swollen tongue, it sounds more like ‘den wah’. Lee picks up the pace — he’s pretty sure, based on what he knows, that the reaction will go away on its own, but a little Benadryl can’t hurt.

“You’re having an allergic reaction.”

He finally finds the stash of Benadryl — who sorted the mortal meds cupboard by colour again — and grabs one of the little measuring cups. Will sees the medicine and immediately starts whining, trying to climb off the counter.

After a minute of wrangling, he manages to keep Will put with one leg over both of his, chin hooked around his shoulder to hinder any escape attempts so he can pour the medicine with both hands. (He pours one teaspoon, even though Will is eight and should be having two. He’s too small for two. It worries him, a little bit — but there is nothing in his vitals to indicate anything’s wrong, so he must just be a late bloomer. Or maybe he and Michael are just destined to remain under five feet for eternity.)

“I’m not drinking it I’m not drinking it I’m not drinking it ew ew ew ew ew —”

“Yes you are —”

“No! Gross! It’s disgusting!”

“You’ve never even had it before!”

Will looks at the tiny little cup like there are worms writhing in it. (He would probably be more willing to eat it if it was worms. Last summer he ate an ant before Lee could stop him. No one told him demigod life would involve wrangling dangerously impulsive children, and he would like a refund, please, thanks.) “I can tell.” He clamps his mouth shut, turning away. “I am not drinking it.”

“It will help you,” Lee says exasperatedly. Was he this difficult as a child? He needs to call his mother. “I can literally see you scratching your throat, you little snot.”

He shoves his hands under his thighs. “No.”

“…It’s bubblegum flavoured.”

Will turns slowly to look at him, evaluating the little cup with suspicion.

“Bubblegum?”

Lee shakes it enticingly. “Bubblegum.”

After a long, tense moment, Will nods once.

“Fine.” He accepts the little cup, bringing it up close to his face to inspect with one squinting eye. “But if it’s disgusting I’m spitting it out.”

He brings the little cup to his lips for the most delicate, most minuscule of sips, more of a dip of the tongue than anything. Lee rolls his eyes. A second later, a pleased look slots on his face, and he downs the rest of the medicine in one large gulp.

Immediately, some of the swelling reduces, and he stops breathing so laboriously.

“There you go,” Lee murmurs, smoothing back his hair. “That’s better, isn’t it?”

“No.”

“Gods, you’re stubborn.”

He’s smiling as he says it, leaning down to press a kiss to Will’s freckled forehead. He slumps into it, sighing, arms winding their way around Lee’s neck almost shyly. Understanding the gesture for the plea that it is, Lee scoops him up again, wincing as he elbows his ribs in an effort to get comfortable, and starts putting the medicine away one-handed (by alphabet, the correct way to sort.)

“You sleepy?” he asks softly, feeling Will grow heavier against him. He crosses his fingers — Apollo kids don’t often suffer side effects of medication, but he’s hoping the drowsiness’ll kick in. It’ll be nice if Will actually, like, sleeps through the night. For once.

“Mhm.”

Smiling wider, he flicks off the lights and steps out into the late evening. Cicada song swells in the mid-spring mugginess, owls hooting somewhere in the darkness. The curfew harpies’ chittering grows nearer and nearer. Lee waves to some of his friends as he sees them puttering outside their cabins, running through the last of their nightly routines, and finally ducks into Cabin Seven.

“He out?” Diana asks, hushed, setting aside her guitar to walk over.

Lee hums. “Almost. Had to give him some Benadryl, so he’s sleepy.” His smile turns sly. “He lied to me about brushing his hair and broke out in hives.”

“Of course he’s allergic.” She leans forward, shaking her head, and presses a gentle kiss to his temple. He doesn’t stir. “Goodnight, sweetpea.”

The rest of his siblings call out their own soft goodnights as Lee walks over to Will’s bunk, covered in stickers and bracketed by Michael and Leanna, and sets him on the mattress. It takes him several minutes to pry himself out of his grip.

“Love you,” he whispers. He brushes his knuckle across his cheek. “Night, kiddo.”

———

The next morning, Will sleeps in for hours. The rest of them rise as usual with the sun, but he’s snoring, drooling onto his Star Wars pillowcase. The cabin is filled with muffled snickers and snapping cameras.

“I am going to have so much ammo on him by the time he’s thirteen and embarrassed by everything,” Michael says gleefully. “So, so much ammo.”

Lee grins at him. “Make sure I get a copy.”

The walk to breakfast is almost strange — the twelve of them again, no baby brother. Melody, complaining about the Hermes girl who is not picking up on any of her hints, pauses mid-sentence to ask if she can swear. Cass laughs out loud and allows it. Quickly, breakfast becomes a competition of who can swear the most or the most colourfully, free now that there are no little ears (as if Michael hasn’t supplied Will with a vast vocabulary already).

By the time Will stumbles into the pavilion, rubbing sleepy eyes, breakfast is almost over.

“Well, hello, lazy bones,” Lee teases, getting up to grab him a plate. Will trails slightly behind him, fingers twisted in the hem of his shirt.

“‘M not lazy,” he grouches, accepting the heaping plate Lee hands to him, “you drugged me.”

They walk to the brazier near the Apollo table, taking in the sweet smell as Will scrapes off a hefty chunk of olive bread. Lee waits for him to close his eyes and finish mouthing a quick prayer before guiding him, still sleepy, to the bench.

“I didn’t drug you. You took the medicine yourself.”

“Um, no way! Unless a patient is educated about the risks, benefits, and alternatives about a treatment, they do not have informed consent.” He nods resolutely, evidently proud of himself for remembering the spiel. “Ergo, you drugged me.”

Lee has the sudden, overwhelming urge to burst into tears. Will is — he’s just so bright, and so little. Eight years old and chattering off about informed consent, intently watching Michael in the infirmary, taking notes in his little blue notebook and wrapping bandages on burns with his tongue poking out between lost teeth. When Lee was eight years old, he was chasing his friends around at recess, chattering to anyone who would listen about Pokémon.

He had felt it, when the glowing gold lyre appeared above Will’s head: this child will do great things. They’d all felt it. Cass had gone stiff, eyes flashing green and face creasing in horror, before remembering herself and the big blue eyes watching her, scared, and plastering a smile on her face. ‘Great things’ is never a good thing for a demigod to do. A demigod destined for great things is a demigod doomed.

With every straining molecule, he wants to turn to the heavens and scream, no! You will not have him! You will not use him! He is not yours to toy with, to use until you’re bored! I will not allow it! By my dying breath I will not allow it!

Instead, he swallows around the lump in his throat and says, “What kind of dork says the word ‘ergo’,” and laughs when Will sticks out his tongue. He reminds his baby brother to chew with his mouth closed and keep his elbows off the table, lest his mama kick his ass, and forces himself to focus on the way he leans into Lee’s side as he eats; to memorize the wideness of his unburdened smile.

———

“I’m allergic to lying?!”

“Seems like it,” Lee confirms, closing one eye to line up a shot. He breathes in, holds, then exhales, letting the arrow loose. It hits the bullseye, but not quite as centred as he’d like it to be. Shoot. He sets down his bow, and Will runs off, scooping up the volley and running back with them.

(Gods, Lee loves having a little brother.)

“That’s not a real allergy,” he huffs, placing an arrow in Lee’s waiting hand. “The ten most common allergy types are foods, animals, pollen, mold, dust mites, medications, latex, insect stings, cockroaches, and perfumes or household chemicals. Other allergens are rare but not impossible, but all are a result of physical stimuli. An allergy to a concept or person is a figure of speech.”

Lee squints at him. “Do you know what ‘stimuli’ means?”

“No.”

“It means a thing that evokes a specific reaction. Where’d you read that?”

“‘The Flu, The Plague, and the Common Cold — How We Are Shaped By Reacting’ by Phyllis Ledger.”

“Huh.”

He lines up another arrow — closer to the centre, this time. Good enough.

They don’t learn a lot about paediatric care at camp, or really anything outside of first aid and emergency services, but he’s pretty sure that normal eight-year-olds don’t read and memorize medical textbooks in their spare time. Is he supposed to nurture that? He has no idea how to nurture that.

It’s kinda funny, though. Cute.

“How can I be allergic to lying if that’s impossible?”

“Is sewing a severed arm back on a person using magical nectar and singing songs possible?”

Will pauses, considering. “Okay. I guess so.” He waits, letting Lee focus to make another shot. “I still think it’s stupid. Are you allergic to lying?”

“Nope.”

“Is Cass?”

“Negative.”

“Michael?”

Lee scoffs. “If Michael was allergic to lying, he would be dead.”

“Is anyone else allergic to lying?”

“Nope.” This time, the arrow lands in the dead centre — finally. “Just you, kiddo.”

He’s heard, of course, of children of Apollo afflicted with such an inconvenience before. Their dad is the god of truth, after all. It’s bound to happen.

Will frowns. “What are the parameters?”

Lee glances curiously at him. “What do you mean?”

“Well, what is lying? Am I allergic to lying, or not telling the truth? They’re different, you know.” He fidgets with the last arrow of the volley, picking at the tail. “Am I gonna get hives if I say something that’s not true, even if I think it’s true? What if I say something that’s a lie but everyone believes it’s true, like when people believed smoking was good for you?” He gasps, looking at Lee with wide, worried eyes. “Oh my gods, am I allowed to be sarcastic?”

Lee tries his very best to hold back his laughter. He is obviously unsuccessful, because Will scowls, shoving him as hard as he can and throwing off his last shot.

“It’s not funny!”

“It’s a little funny,” Lee snickers, jogging down the range to gather his arrows. He slides them into the quiver, tossing it and his bow onto the equipment deck. “You’re very adorable when you’re mad. You get all —” he pokes Will’s dimpled cheeks, grinning when it makes him smile — “pouty and red. Like Tinkerbell.”

“You’re mean. You’re a horrible mean big brother and I want Beckendorf to adopt me instead.”

“I’ll let him know,” Lee says drily. “C’mon, kid. There’re cabin inspections tonight; I know you got Lego everywhere. Time to clean up. I swear, if we get Castor again I’m gonna —”

“Oh, I didn’t see you guys! I hope I’m not interrupting your practice.”

Lee stumbles. “— lose it.” He trails off weakly “Hey, Carter.”

The son of Athena smiles widely, dark eyes twinkling. His front tooth is just slightly crooked, and Lee finds himself staring at it.

“Hi, Lee.”

Lee wonders, briefly, if he has suddenly developed tachycardia. It certainly feels like it. He remembers something Will had rattled off during lunch yesterday — hummingbirds don’t actually hum, they just beat their wings thousands of times per minute, often in sync with their heart. Lee feels a strange kinship with the little birds right about now.

Will clears his throat loudly.

Carter startles. “Oh! Oh, hi, Will, I’m sorry. Didn’t see you there.”

Will squints suspiciously. “Uh-huh.”

“I was just hoping to use the archery range, if you’re done with it.” He tucks a lock behind his ear. “Or, um. We can share, if you want.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay,” Lee rushes to assure, “I actually just finished, so I’m all — it! It’s all yours!” He clears his throat, sure his face is flaming. “Uh, take it away! Shoot straight!”

Mortified, he clamps his hands on Will’s shoulders and practically shoves him forward, rushing away as fast as is socially acceptable.

“Okay,” Carter calls out behind him, audibly confused. “See you around, Lee.”

Lee makes some sort of horrible, crackling chucking sound. “Right-o!”

Just bury him. Really.

“Smooth,” Will mutters, the second they’re out of earshot. Then he pauses, delighted. “Hey! I can still be sarcastic!”

Lee flicks him on the forehead, scowling. “Shut up.”

———

“— it just seems so vague, right? I mean, say I look at the sky and say, the sky is green. That’s obviously not true. But what if I think it’s true? Or what if I think blue is green, and green is blue? Am I being truthful? Is truth defined by my belief, or by whoever I’m speaking to? Or some arbitrary, so-called objective standard? And what if —”

“Will,” Lee begs, hands pressed to his rapidly-pulsating temples, “for the love of Zeus, please settle down.”

“I can’t,” he says dramatically. He gets another couple jumps on his (FRESHLY MADE) bed before Lee gets fed up an wallops him with a pillow, sending him tumbling with a shriek. “Child abuse! I’m telling Chiron!” He makes a pleased noise. “Hey, I can still exaggerate! I wonder if acting is considered lying —”

“I am going to lose my mind.”

“— and what about, like, withholding the truth? Like, for example, if you asked me, hey, Will, did I make a big embarrassing fool out of myself in front of Carter this morning, and I do not say yeah, totally, I was embarrassed for you —”

“That’s it.”

Lee pounces on him, murderous, digging his fingers into his brother’s sides as he shrieks with laughter, pinning down his arms so he can’t writhe away.

“Mercy! Mercy! I’m sorry, I’m —”

“You’re literally lying right now!” Lee says in disbelief. “I can see your eyes reddening!”

Luckily, the reaction isn’t so severe this time. Maybe it’s a smaller lie, leaning more into teasing than anything, or maybe even the universe can’t be so cruel when faced with Will’s giggles. Either way, Lee tickles him until he’s begging for mercy for real, gasping as he darts away.

“You’re such a brat,” Lee says fondly, catching his breath.

Will sticks out his tongue. “Nuh uh.”

“Get over here, doofus. It’s nine o’clock. You were supposed to be in bed a half-hour ago, I’ll tell you a story.”

Predictably, that gets him quiet, clambering over the mussed sheets and shoving himself into Lee’s side, leg sprawled over his knees and chin digging into his chest. Big blue eyes turn to him with attention, wider than the sea and skies, sparkling, clear with open trust. The lump surfaces in Lee’s throat again, and he brings his hands up to smooth down Will’s hair, distracting himself by untangling the many knots.

“One day,” he begins, voice a little wobbly, “there was a boy.”

“In a galaxy far far away?”

“No. Shut up.”

Will pouts. Lee kisses him on the forehead.

“There was a regular boy on regular Earth. And he was small and clumsy, because his brain was too big for his body and threw him off balance.”

“That’s called a Chiari malformation.”

“William Andrew.”

“Sorry.”

“Gods. Anyways. The boy.” He clears his throat. “The boy was the most curious boy to ever exist. He would observe things, with his big eyes, for hours, trying to figure out how everything in the whole world worked. He’d memorized how every creature in the pond worked together when he was four years old. By the time he was five he could speak frog, and dance with the fireflies.”

Will giggles. “A boy can’t speak frog, that’s ridiculous. Can the frog speak back?”

“Shhh. Listening ears. One day, when the boy was eight, he got very bored by his house, even with the pretty pond. The frogs were too busy to play with him and the fireflies had flown off to work, so he decided to go on an adventure.”

“A quest?”

“Yes, exactly. A quest for knowledge. He decided he would learn every piece of information possible so that one day he could bring it back to his village and share it with everybody. Do you know what happened?”

“What?”

“He was successful. He spent many years travelling and observing and running from monsters to get all the information he could. And when he came back to the village, the people saw that he was kind and intelligent but very naive, so they sucked out all the knowledge from his head to use for themselves and he died. The end.”

“What? No!” Will pushes himself upright, unfortunately putting his entire weight on Lee’s spleen, jaw dropped in outrage. “That’s a horrible story! You can’t end the story like that!”

“My story,” Lee wheezes. “I can end it however I want.”

“Tell it better!”

“Fine, fine. Get off my organs.”

When Will is settled again, curled in the crook of Lee’s arm and glaring at him suspiciously, Lee continues.

“The villagers didn’t kill the boy. You’re right. But they weren’t very careful with them, either. The boy wanted very much to help, so much that it was sometimes all he could think about. And the villagers didn’t mean to, but they treated the boy like he was a knowledge machine — taking and taking and taking, forgetting to give back, to check on him. One day, the boy was so drained of knowledge that he collapsed.”

“Of stress-induced exhaustion?” Will asks softly. His eyes, finally, have begun to droop.

Lee smiles. “Something like that.”

“Then what happened?”

“The villagers panicked, because the boy wasn’t awake to tell them how to fix him. They didn’t know what to do. Some of them, even, didn’t know why he collapsed at all, they thought he might be cursed and didn’t like him anymore.”

“But he wasn’t cursed, he was sick!”

“That’s right. He was sick, because he didn’t stop to take care of himself. He let people take too much without making sure he had enough to stay whole.”

For a long time, long enough that Lee thinks he’s asleep, Will doesn’t say anything. And then he says, in a very small voice, “Does the boy still die?”

“No,” Lee whispers, tightening his hold. “His big brother comes back from a long trip and heals him. And then he yells are the villagers for making him sick, and makes them promise to be more careful. The end. For real this time.”

“I like the second story better,” Will says. “It’s good that he had his big brother there.”

“Always.” Lee swallows, shifting once Will’s eyes flutter shut, sliding him under the covers. “Always, kiddo.”

#thinking about what could have been and sobbing on my hands and knees on the ground #something something the children of prophecy know which of them is going to live something something #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #will solace #will solace angst #lee fletcher #will solace & lee fletcher #i don’t know how else to tag this but like. pain #my writing #fic #longpost #baby will #baby will solace #kid will solace #smart will solace

457 notes · View notes

heresronnie21 · 5 months

Text

I forgot to post them! The Apollo kids! The grandbabies!

#trials of apollo #cabin 7 #will solace #austin lake #kayla knowles #lee fletcher #michael yew #toa yan #toa Gracie #toa Jerry

717 notes · View notes

thestarstoasun · 27 days

Text

Possibly a hot take, but I think the Tartarus trip actually helped Will a lot. Obviously I have my disappointments with the book, but we do not only see Nico healing from the copious amount of trauma Rick fit into him; we get to see Will come to terms with darker parts of himself.

It's canon/very heavily implied (I can't remember and don't feel like looking it up) he came to camp at a very young age, younger than campers that aren't deemed "powerful" or have a strong scent. Despite Will thinking he isn't strong, he is the best healer Camp Half Blood has seen in, what we can assume, at least a century. He's a year-rounder, so he hasn't experienced life on the outside in years. Hell, until Trials of Apollo, his godly parent hardly took notice of him.

His older brothers and other siblings were his biggest supporters and motivators. They looked out for him and took care of him in place of a parent, specifically the older kids (Lee and Michael.) And he lost them during the Dark Prophecy - less than 2 years apart from each other. He didn't even get to search for Michael because Percy took him for a joyride across Manhattan on a motorcycle to help Annabeth.

Even after all of that, its implied/seen that he's someone who is always looking on the bright side of things, never making anything about himself, always helping others, etc. He's a ray of sunshine in everyone's life, never allowing himself to show anyone that he's hurting or suffering because he feels like he just can't. After all, he's Will Solace. He is the head medic, the infirmary can't just stop running. He's the counselor for cabin, his siblings need him to be strong.

He represses his negative emotions, even admits to it in Trials of Apollo. I think he represses them to a point he can avoid/ignore them or pretend they aren't his. It's easier to be a ray of sunshine in people's lives if the negativity and darkness you feel are projected onto someone else.

These tendencies are also something that causes strain in Nico and Will's relationship, because Nico doesn't understand how Will can't see how hypocritical he is. When in reality, Will does know, but it's easier if he avoids it. Ignorance is bliss after all. This doesn't mean Will doesn't work on trying to let Nico in, because he does, sort of.

On bad days, the days when he wakes up and wants nothing more than to curl up in the arms of his older brothers, he would go to Nico's cabin. However, his only explanation would ever be, "im tired." It frustrated him just as much as it upset Nico. He wasn't even sure if his boyfriend could tell. (Nico could, but that didn't mean it hurt any less.)

In Persephone's garden, he was forced to face the fact that there is darkness/negativity/hurt inside of him. He can't deny it when it's right in front of him, so he finally has to stop repressing everything, stop running away, and face his pains.

#tbh i cant tell when this went from character study opinion to headcanons #i just start typing and words show up #im proud of this though #will solace #nico di angelo #solangelo #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #the sun and the star #heroes of olympus #persephone #trials of apollo #michael yew #lee fletcher #apollo cabin #percy jackson #annabeth chase

284 notes · View notes

frozenrose20 · 24 days

Text

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.

#pjo #toa #hoo #pjo hoo toa #will solace #percy jackson #chris rodriguez #clarisse la rue #lee fletcher #luke castellan #katie gardner #miranda gardiner #meg mccaffrey #rachel elizabeth dare

227 notes · View notes

pain-is-too-tired · 23 days

Text

I'm thinking about the Apollo Cabin and crying again y'all fdhdg

Just thinking about Little Will struggling to find a talent that fits with his other siblings, watching them ace Archery and Music no problem, and feeling really self-conscious about it.

Lee making the decision to have him shadow Michael in the infirmary and Michael immediately being taking him under his wing.

First time Will's healing abilities show up Will's confused as to what had just happened but Michael is pumped. Lee practically could see him glowing when they meet back for dinner Michael's so proud.

Anytime anyone even tries to talk down to Will about his lack of Archery or Music expertise like his siblings Michael has to be held back from throwing hands. Especially cause he knows Will takes it to heart.

After BoM, Will's self confidence plummets due to losing his biggest support system and having to take care of so many lives on his own. It doesn't really start to build back up until Nico starts noticing and helps him through it.

182 notes · View notes

phoenix--flying · 7 months

Text

more tweets and i have a lot more plus some oc centered ones if anyone wants those ones LMFAO

part one

432 notes · View notes

freddie-77-ao3 · 1 month

Text

Lee: Will, you’re my favorite Will: Why? Kayla T-Posing over a hissing Michael because.... why not: Austin complaining about how his severe third degree burns from the lava wall means he can't post a youtube video this week: Lee: No reason

#pjo #pjo hoo toa #riordanverse #pjo series #pjo fandom #incorrect quotes #will solace #lee fletcher #michael yew #kayla knowles #austin lake #cabin 7 #cabin seven #apollo cabin

146 notes · View notes

kitkats-and-kittens · 4 months

Text

Anyone ever think about Will Solace?

Anyone ever think about how he came to camp at 10 and was apparently a year rounder due to how dangerous the monsters where?

Anyone ever think about how at 12 he watched countless demigods along with his brother, die and wasn’t able to do anything about it?

Anyone ever think about how only a year later he went to war?

Anyone ever think about how he was a war medic at 13?

Anyone ever think about how he healed countless injuries but still couldn’t save everyone and had to watch almost all of his siblings die in the span of 3 days?

Anyone ever think about how he became head councillor at 13?

Anyone ever think about how only a year later he went through another war?

Anyone ever think about his feelings of inadequacy since he considers being a medic his only useful skill?

Anyone ever think about how he went to Tartarus at 16?

Anyone ever think about how he had to accept the bad parts and learn to love all aspects of himself?

Anyone ever think about how despite everything he went though at such a young age he continues to smile, to be optimistic and passionate about his boyfriend, his siblings, his dad?

Anyone ever think about Will Solace?

#percy jackson #gods #pjo #apollo #trials of apollo #will solace #the sun and the star #nico di angelo #battle of manhattan #michael yew #lee fletcher #I could write essays on this man #also confirming plague Will Solace in two lines and never bringing it up again was criminal Rick

310 notes · View notes

raphael-angele · 7 days

Text

Nico's Big Brothers

Nico: Conner, can you open this please. *gives him a can of peanut brittle*

Conner: Did Travis okay this?

Nico: Mhm.

Conner: You know you can't eat these kinds of things without drinking water directly after, right?

Nico: Yep.

Conner: Where's your water?

Nico: *points to glass on table*

Conner: Alright *opens can and spring snakes pop out*

Conner:

Nico: :)

Conner: Classic *impressed*

---

Nico: Travis!

Travis: What's up, kiddo?

Nico: Annabeth gave me homework. Can you please help me?

Travis: Yeah, sure. *pulls ups a chair and sits on whoopee cushion*

Travis:

Nico: :)

Travis: *pulls out whoopee cushion from underneath him* ...I'll teach you better pranks if you get an A in this.

---

Visiting an Aquarium:

Percy, carrying Nico: Nico, c'mon. Look at the pretty fish.

Nico, burying his head in Percy's shoulder: No! I don't like the ocean! The ocean is scary! It's gonna eat me!

Percy: *sigh* C'mon. Look, there's a turtle over there.

Nico: *looks hesitantly*

Percy: See? Over there. *points to turtle* Say, "Hi, Mr. Turtle*

Nico: *waves* Hi, Mr. Turtle.

Turtle: *waves back*

Nico: GAAASP HE WAVED BACK! PERCY, HE WAVED BACK!

---

Nico: GROVEEERRRR! *running*

Grover: Woah! Woah! Woah! Nico, calm down. What's wrong?

Nico: *opens his palm to show a baby bird with a broken wing*

Grover: Oooh.

Nico: I think she fell from her nest. B-but you can heal her right? Or Juniper can?

Grover: Nico, I'm sorry. Juniper or I don't have healing powers

Nico: B-but, we can't just leave Beanie alone! He's tiny and just a baby! He needs his family!

Grover: *sigh* I know. C'mon. We'll go to the Apollo cabin to see what they can do. Then we'll put him back in his tree.

Nico: I'll still get to see him, right?

Grover: Of course.

---

Jason giving Nico a tour of Camp: And that over there is the arena. It's where we train.

Reyna: Jason! Who's that?

Jason: Oh, Nico, this is Reyna. She's my best friend. Reyna, this is Nico. He's a visitor.

Reyna: We don't accept visitors

Jason: He's an exception. Diana asked us to-

Nico, playing with a dummy sword: Jason, I'm hungry.

Jason: Aww, okay. Let's get you some food.

Octavian: What are you two doing? And what is that? *points to Nico*

Reyna: Back off, Octavian.

Octavian: No. That thing needs to leave. This place is-

Nico: *throws his dummy sword at him*

Octavian: OW!

Jason: Nico!

Reyna:

Jason: Octavian, are you okay? Do you-

Nico: *throws stones, sticks, and whatever he can pick up from the ground at Octavian*

Jason: Nico, you can't-

Reyna: Wait, give him five more seconds to learn his lesson

---

Nico: *wakes up from his afternoon nap*

Alice: Oh, looks like someone's awake from his nap

Nico: Clovis...

Clovis: *picks him up* I'm here, kiddo. You need anything?

Nico: Hungy...

Clovis: Alright. Let's get you some food. Did you have a good nap?

Nico: Mhm. I had a good dream

Clovis: Aww, tell me all about it.

---

Nico: Charlie.

Charles: Yes, Nico? What is it?

Nico: Can you make something?

Charles: It's kind of what we do here. What do you need?

Nico: I made my sister mad.

Charles: What happened?

Nico: I almost broke her bow. So I want to make it up to her.

Charles: So you want me to make her a new bow?

Nico: Not exactly. *shows paper*

Charles and other Cabin 9 kids: *looks*

Charles: Oh, wow. That's...that's certainly something.

Nico: Can you make it?

Charles: Maybe like...2? 3 weeks?

Soon:

Bianca: Hey...Charles, right?

Charles: That's me. What can I help you with?

Bianca: Nico said that he had you make something for me?

Charles: Oh, so you're Nico's sister. Yeah, I have what he asked for. *hands over case*

Bianca: What is it?

Charles: *opens case* He felt bad about almost breaking your bow so he had me make you this. *shows violin*

Bianca: Oh, wow. That's...very generous of you. All of you.

Charles: That's not where it ends. *pushes a button at the top and the violin turns to a bow*

Bianca:

Charles: He had blueprints and everything.

Bianca: I'm going to say something I swore I'd never say. Oh my Gods.

Charles: *chuckles*

Bianca: How much does he owe you?

Charles: Ah, it's on the house. It looked really cool and all of us wanted to take a shot at it. It was fun enough for us to make it.

Violin

---

Nico: *crying cuz he fell fown and scraped his knee*

Lee: Nico, calm down.

Nico: It hurts!!

Lee: I know, kiddo. I know.

Nico: I want Bia!!

Lee: Michael already called for her. Just be a good boy and keep still, okay?

Nico: *nods*

Lee: Okay, there we go. *blows on his wound and applies betadine*

Nico: Can I get a lollipop later?

Lee: Well, if you're a good boy, I can give you one in your favorite flavor. *patches him up* And we're done. See? That wasn't so bad, right?

Bianca, coming in: Nico?

Lee: Over here. He's fine. He just scraped his knee. Nothing a little betadine can't fix.

Bianca: Oh, good. Thank you.

Lee: Yeah. And he was a very strong boy. *shows lollipop jar* Here you go, Nico.

Nico: Yay!

---

Michael: Good. Don't close your eye. It'll be harder if you do. Stand properly

Nico: *does as he's told*

Michael: And...release.

Nico: *shoots an arrow bullseye* I DID IT!!!

Michael: YEAAA! *picks up Nico* Aww, great job, little man.

Nico: DID YOU SEE IT? MICKEY, DID YOU SEE IT?!?!

Michael: I saw it. And it was perfect. C'mon, let's go tell Bianca.

#pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson #nico di angelo #grover underwood #jason grace #travis stoll #conner stoll #charles beckendorf #michael yew #lee fletcher #bianca di angelo #reyna avila ramirez arellano #clovis #baby nico #percy jackson incorrect quotes #pjo incorrect quotes #incorrect percy jackson quotes #incorrect quotes

99 notes · View notes

jkschanel · 4 months

Text

apollo cabin family dynamics… save me apollo cabin family dynamics…

but seriously… the grief that comes with being a child of apollo… more siblings than you can count is all the more to lose, counsellors barely making it past 16-17

the inherent tragedy of being a cabin of healers and fighters and poets, never knowing if the next body you have to bandage will be your sibling… born to hold a pen, forced to carry a bow

a cabin as bright as the sun, smiling faces that give hope to wounded children soldiers, singing songs around a fire even when you don’t know if you’ll make it to tomorrow

seeing the numbers dwindle, what used to be a full house becoming half empty and then barely used

but at least you have each other… whoever survives

#pjo hoo toa #cabin seven #cabin 7 #apollo #children of apollo #will solace #lee fletcher #michael yew #kayla knowles #austin lake #gracie #jerry #yan

162 notes · View notes

irishskeptic · 8 days

Text

Demigods at Camp Half Blood that I have decided to claim as Irish because I can:

Lee Fletcher, Son of Apollo (Donegal)

Castor and Pollux, Twins of Dionysus (Also Donegal; Them and Lee Fletcher were childhood best friends)

Damien White, Son of Nemesis (North Dublin)

Shane, Son of Hephaestus (Laois)

Billie Ng, Daughter of Demeter (Sligo)

Bonus: Not Irish, but Malcolm Pace, Son of Athena, is from Glasgow, Scotland.

I may or may not add more to this in the future, only time will tell

@ashthenerdtheythem @artemx746 @florenceisstrange @aki-bara

#lee fletcher #castor and pollux #damien white #shane hoo #billie ng #malcolm pace #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackon and the olympians #heroes of olympus #trials of apollo #pjo #pjo fandom #hoo #hoo fandom #toa #toa fandom #riordanverse #misc skeptic thoughts

79 notes · View notes

mediumgayitalian · 16 days

Text

part two

———

Getting outrun for seven miles by an eight year old is a uniquely humbling experience. Compactly humiliating, coincidentally, is being outrun by an eight year old while dragging along a bouquet large enough that it cannot be adequately contained with two hands and must therefore be carried between two people.

Lee is having something of an afternoon.

“It starts in seven minutes!” shouts Will, at least twelve solid yards ahead of them and running backwards. He does not appear even to be sweating. “Hurry!”

“Could not be hurrying more if I tried,” Lee wheezes.

(It’s not that Lee isn’t a good runner. He is. It’s that Will is freakishly fast, because he has dimples when he smiles and has endeared himself to the dryads, who have been teaching him how to sprint like the hopped up little Energizer Bunny he is. Michael has been calling him Soda Boy for ages, on account of how he so closely resembles a can of pop that has been vigorously shaken, which he hates. Remembering it brings Lee some peace.)

“Let’s go let’s go let’s go!”

Clamping his mouth shut in a desperate attempt to preserve energy, Lee surges forward. Michael matches him, having to run significantly faster to keep up with his long legs. Their panting forms a discordant melody of despair. Poetic.

When they stumble through the door, chests heaving, Lee considers collapsing to the ground and weeping for joy. He will never run again. If a monster chases him, he will simply fight or accept his fate. He has reached his quota.

But, for perhaps the first time in his life, there is no time for dramatics. The lobby is devoid of the massive crowds it held earlier, shadows eerie in their absence, and only the final tail end of a line shuffles through the stage doors.

Despite his internal vow, Lee sprints forward to catch up with them.

“Hold it,” says a man in a venue volunteer! vest, holding up a hand. He glances at them, resting his gaze on Will’s messy hair, Michael’s scuffed shoes, Lee’s wrinkled shirt, and pausing for quite a while on the giant bouquet. The narrowed eyes and thinned lips are familiar. Lee stiffens.

“Go on in,” the man says to the middle aged couple in front of them, who’s crease-free jackets read ‘Dance Mom’ and ‘Prop Team Dad’ respectively. He shoos them inside, complimenting the honest-to-Apollo corsage in the woman’s hand, chortling along to the man’s joke. The laughter drops from his face the second the couple is guided through the doors, and the man turns back to the three of them.

“The show,” he says, nose upturned, “has begun. I can’t let anyone else in lest they cause any…disturbances.”

“The show starts on three minutes and forty-seven seconds!” Will protests, sticking his watch in the man’s face. Completely oblivious to his murderous look, he continues, “Forty-six seconds! Forty-five! Time’s-a-tickin’, let us in!”

The man bares his teeth in a smile. “Regrettably, you are too late. You’ll have to wait for the intermission.”

Will blinks at him. He looks at Lee, at the doors, then back at the man.

“But…we’re on time. And if we come back later, we’ll miss my sister’s dance!”

The man shrugs. “This will be a valuable lesson, then.” He purses his lips, glancing again at the bouquet. “Perhaps be more prepared, next time.”

Will turns back to Lee and Michael, crestfallen. He swipes quickly under his eyes, squeezing his thumb into fists, but the tears well up anyway. “We’re going to miss it?”

Michael snarls. In one quick move he shoves the massive bouquet entirely into Lee’s arms, yanks Will by the shoulders to stand behind him, and gets right in the man’s face.

“You listen here, you slimy ratbag, you had no fuckin’ trouble letting those last scragglers in so you better clean up your act quick before I —”

A loud crashing noise makes them all jump, interrupting him. Nearly crushing the flowers, Lee whips towards the source of the sound. One of the competition banners has been yanked down, metal frame collapsing on the tile floor. Fastening screws rattle to a slow stop beside it.

“What the —”

Another banner crashes to the floor. This time, the little hands that tore it down are a touch too slow to dart away, a blonde head not quick enough to duck behind a corner.

“Hey!” the man shouts. Shoving Michael aside, and moving quicker than Lee can think to stop him, he sprints towards the corner Will disappeared behind. “Get back here! You can’t do that!”

Lee curses, trying to manoeuvre the flowers to see and run at the same time. Michael runs ahead of him, on the man’s heels, chanting shit shit shit shit under his breath. Lee’s brain takes the initiative to alternate, chanting fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck every time he takes a breath.

They’re going to get kicked out for sure. Diana is going to kill them and it’s going to be justified, because Lee is going to have to live with the noble look he knows Cass will have on when she realises they’re not there to watch. The shakey, practiced smile she’ll slap over the disappointment in her dark eyes.

Shit shit shit shit indeed.

“Lee! Michael! Over here!” whispers a voice. Lee whirls around to face it — boy does he ever feel like a puppet on a stick right now — and, for the second time in as many minutes, feels his head pound at the disorienting frenzy of emotions that bubble up when he sees his baby brother’s face. Will stands half inside a doorway Lee hadn’t noticed on the way in, tucked in the shadow of a corner.

He is fast, holy shit.

“What the hell are you doing,” hisses Michael.

“Getting us inside! Hurry up!”

Lee doesn’t need further prompting, clock ticking in his brain. Gods, how long do they have left? Thirty seconds? Less?

“Most big theatres have sideline entrances,” Will explains after Michael helps shove the giant bouquet through the tiny door. He guides them, upright to their hunching, down a tight corridor. “They’re for performers to pop up in the audience without being seen. Mama and I race each other to find ‘em when she did shows.”

Lee had forgotten, for a moment, how much of his life Will has spent in and out of theatres, bars, stages. Naomi Solace has been growing more and more famous since…half of his life, at least. Lee remembers hearing about her four years ago, when she’d done a smaller show in Queens. A friend of his had gone.

Michael reaches out and tugs the mostly-undone ponytail he’d wrestled Will’s hair into that morning. “Good job, kid.”

He grins over his shoulder. “Thanks.”

They stumble into the darkened audience in the nick of time. The second Lee steps out of the cramped little corridor, dragging the stupid flowers (he is, in fact, regretting his choices at this point in time; when he has a free moment he will add this to the list of reasons he will be kicking his past self’s ass if the Hephaestus cabin successfully recreates DeLorean time machine) along with him, the stage lights come on. An announcer’s voice calls out, “Entry 109, Competitive Open Solo: Cass Hasapi.”

“Fuck,” Michael mutters. A quaint family of four gasps. He sneers at them. “Fuck, you see Diana?”

“No, is she maybe —”

“I think that’s her hair —”

“That person is way too tall, what are you —”

“I swear to the gods, I am going to kill you both,” whispers a beautifully familiar voice, and then Lee is being dragged. “Sit the hell down and shut the hell up. Will, baby, c’mere.”

Will climbs happily over the two empty seats, settling onto Diana’s lap and curling under her chin. He sticks his tongue out when Lee and Michael follow in behind him, struggling with the bouquet, muttering about favouritism.

“I’ve literally known you for six times longer than you’ve known him,” Michael mutters, sticking his tongue out right back. A grandmother with a severe bob whirls back and hushes him.

“Yeah, I’ve had all that time to get tired of your bullshit. Shut up.”

Before Michael can retort — Lee is sure he has an eloquent and devastating response, Lee has been helping him practice — soft piano drifts out from the speakers. A light turns on, pointed at the stage.

All four of them snap their mouths shut.

In the centre of the stage, Cass stands, poised. Her back is turned to the audience, arms extended above her and tilted to the right, as if reaching for the setting sun. Her hair, braided loosely back, brushes the edge of her thickly draping purple costume. Her knees are bent and locked and one bare foot sticks out like she’s trying to balance herself, like she’s mid fall.

A gravelly, male voice sings lowly along to the piano. How do you know which time might be the last? She moves along the dip of his voice, dragging her limbs through the rigid air. What I would give just to see you again? She moves with a swooping twist of her heels, twisting at the waist. Under the heat of the stage lights, her face contorts, forehead deeply wrinkled, mouth parted, breathing quickly. I’d walk to the depths of a world down below and demand to get back what some circumstance stole. She holds herself with such tension that Lee finds his own shoulders hiking up to his ears. Her chest moves rapidly, hands shaking, knees buckling. His breath goes stale in his lungs.

When the chorus starts, hard and heavy and sudden, I turned back one last time just to prove you were there, Cass hits the floor. He gasps with the rest of the audience, clutching the plush armrest, but it’s intentional, part of the dance. ‘Cause the last ray of sun made Eurydice cold. Collapsed on the floor, limbs bent, dress askew, she crawls, begging, towards the audience. Did she know? Did she know? Did she know? Did she know?

Cass does not move gracefully. She moves like a beached, gasping siren dragging herself back to the depths, like someone climbing out of a pit. Every movement looks heavy and painful. She looks at the audience and Lee is surging forward before he can stop himself, breath hitching, brain screaming: help her! help her! help her!

If I knew how it’d feel back then, I wouldn’t take another step.

Her body twists again, hair escaping her loose braid and sticking to her neck, her forehead. She claws at her throat like she’s suffocating, eyes accusing everyone watching like they’re holding her under. Each movement of her arms swell and sway on the beat, bare feet slapping the ground with every hit of the kettle drum. If you can see me it’s all in your head, but it feels real to me now, it felt real to me then.

Everything ends.

The piano fades out, the drums hit their last beat. All that’s left is the wretched guitar, taught like strings snapping, taught like the tense pull of her suspended muscles.

But I opened the door and went down the stairs; I turned back one last time to prove you were there.

As the last word fades, she drops. Not slowly, not evenly, but like whatever was holding her up crumbled to dust. Like she was shot. Her purple dress pools out around her like dark Hyacinth. She lays completely, entirely still.

The lights cut. The air in the audience goes heavy.

They come back on and no one says a word. Lee realises, as it drips onto his hands, that he is crying. Diana is, too, tear tracks too fresh to dry on her face, and Will is leaned forward so far he sways precariously. Michael’s hands are pressed harshly to his eyes.

Trancelike, Lee stands. All eyes snap, abruptly, towards him, but he ignores them. He looks straight across the rows of chairs and locks eyes with his sister, upright now, heaving, standing hesitant. She looks at him, and then beside him at Michael, and then at Will in Diana’s lap. They scramble quickly up next to him, and without any of them saying anything, they begin to cheer.

Cass’s face lights up.

With permission, much of the audience claps. No one stands as they do and as they continue hooting and hollering the claps fade quickly, replaced with stares and murmurs, but Cass still stands there, beaming, looking away and looking back like she can’t believe they’re there. That someone is there, that someone watched her, her, from beginning to end. A hand tugs on his sleeve.

“Can I sonic?” Will asks, raising his voice to be heard.

“Level four,” Lee allows.

He needs no further permission, grinning. He lets out a piercing whistle that makes everyone around them shout in alarm and Lee’s ears ring. But Cass laughs, loud and bright, so it’s worth it, and when Will looks at him in question he nods. The second whistle is definitely beyond a level four, but Lee doesn’t care. Cass looks the happiest he’s seen in a long time.

———

None of them care too much about staying for the other performances. But Cass has two more dances with her studio classes, spread out as they are, so Lee remains doomed to two hours of an aching ass and performances that come nowhere near Cass’s masterpiece. Will seems intrigued, though, by some of the pieces, so he grits his teeth and bares it. Besides, the rolled eyes he shares with Diana and Michael every time someone does something exceedingly cliche or tries and fails at depth (someone, often, being one of Cass’s teammates, shocker) makes it somewhat worth it.

By the time the judges call the last entry, though, Lee is ready to book it out of there.

The lights come back on and pop music plays through the speakers as dancers, in track suits over their costumes, congregate on the stage. Lee stands and stretches, letting Will stand on his shoulders and jump off into Michael’s arms to get some of his energy out. (And, also, ‘cause tossing a small child between them is fun. Diana jogs into the aisle so they can throw farther, but they all decide against it when a security guard glances over.)

After what feels like eight million years, the judges finally lumber over to the stage. The building voices hush as they climb the steps, standing in front of the gathered studios with cabled mics and stacks of foreboding envelopes.

“Welcome, dancers and families,” starts one judge.

She blabs on for several minutes about what an honour it was to judge and how wonderful everyone was. Blah, blah, blah. Lee spaces out about the time Diana’s eyes glaze over, and he looks instead to the gathered stage, observing. There are five different studios that he can see, each with about forty to fifty dancers. Mostly young women. They sit tangled together, legs on legs, arms around shoulders, feet tucked under thighs. Cass, he notices, sits on her own, at the very back of the stage. She sits straight-backed and proud, though. Chin lifted, braid resting over her shoulder.

Impossible to miss.

Two of her group dances win Diamond (Diana explains to them that this is Very Good. She thinks). Most others do not get this honour. Lee notices especially the older couple to their left looking quite sour. The glee he feels is indescribable.

“The winner for our open solo, for all age groups, was actually unanimous. It’s been a while since that happened!”

A girl near the front of the stage, who Lee recognises as the one to make a cruel joke about Cass’ mother, preens. Her solo was boring as hell. He’s not sure what she’s so smug about.

“With a score of 97.6, congratulations to Entry 109, Cass Hasapi!”

The four of them scream like lunatics.

They don’t even wait for scattered applause. Each one of them clambers up on the pristine chairs, covering them with scuff marks, and yell at the top of their lungs, jumping and cheering like chimps in a cage. Cass goes red, but she can’t hide her smile as she stands and accepts her award, grinning over at them. Michael holds up his camera and snaps a photo of her, pink-cheeked and wild-haired, glowing.

———

“Cass!”

Will sees her before the rest of them, sprinting towards the changeroom doors at top speeds and leaping up into her arms. She catches him easily, spinning them both around, pressing a thousand kisses to his hair and face.

“Hello, my darling! Hello hello hello!” Every word is punctuations with a kiss, or rather a press of her wide smile to anywhere she can reach. In seconds his cheeks are stained with her lipstick. “Oh, it has been weeks, darling boy, I missed you!”

Will clings to her sweater, face buried in the crook of her neck. She holds him just as tightly.

(Will has seen Cass more than Lee, in the past few months. He knows she’s made a few sudden trips to camp. But he also knows that she was the first one to welcome him into camp, the day his mother dropped him off, and when he was claimed she was the first to bring him home. She loves to tote him around, too, to have him trail after her for cabin inspections, holding the clipboard, or paint his nails when she’s bored. He misses her something fierce in the winters. She holds on tightly when she comes back home.)

Squeezing him one last time, she turns to the rest of them. Despite her wide smile, her mascara runs.

“You came,” she says, voice wobbling.

Michael clears his throat. “No shit.”

His voice wobbles, too.

“Come here, you goober.”

He’s the next to cling to her, inserting himself under her arm. She presses a kiss to his temple and he pinches her ribs, complaining, getting louder when she digs a knuckle into his hair. Diana jogs up and separates them, as she always does, flicking Michael on the forehead and pressing a kiss to her sister’s cheek.

“I’m so proud of you,” she whispers, squeezing her hand.

Cass’s tears spill over again. “Thank you.”

Lee clears his throat. He feels, suddenly, like a doofus, holding a bouquet of flowers the size of him, but Cass looks at them and grins again, chuckling.

“You sell your kidney for that or what?”

Lee snorts. “No, we exchanged Will. This is a clone.”

“Did not!”

Lee blows a raspberry. “Did too. Clone.”

“I’m not a clone! I’m me!”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Ya-huh!”

“Alright,” Cass interrupts, rolling her eyes fondly. She kisses the tip of Will’s nose again and sets him down, turning towards Lee, hands outstretched dramatically. “Hand me my dues.”

Because she is, at the core of her, a true daughter of Apollo, even though the amount of poise and grace that bleeds from her at any given time contradicts almost directly with the guy who beams Pocketful of Sunshine directly into their brains at five in the morning every single day without fail, she kneels with a flourish. Because Lee is, at the core of him, also a child of Apollo, he goes unquestioningly along with the bit, pulling out one of the flowers to knight her before resting the entire bouquet in her arms. She has to hold it with both hands.

“You guys are ridiculous,” she says, grinning.

“They are ridiculous,” Diana stresses. “Dumbasses were damn near late getting this for you. They already had flowers, mind you. They’re just dumb.”

Will holds up his hand with his watch. “I kept us from being late!”

Diana squishes his cheek. “Thank you, sweetpea. You’re already smarter than your brothers combined.”

“Stick out your tongue again and I’ll grab it, you little snitch,” Lee warns.

Will, darting to hide behind Diana, does not heed his warning. Because he’s a little shit. bc

The walk out of the building in a gaggle of movement. As other dancers and their families walk by, glowering at Cass’ flowers and at Cass in general, Lee makes a point to catch their eyes. To smirk. To let them know, without saying a word — you were wrong. Of course you were wrong. Look at how she’s better than your bitter ass without even trying.

It warms him inside, truly.

“I’m thinking,” Diana says, walking back to the car, “that we stop at Dairy Queen on the way home. On Michael’s dollar. Will, look real excited so Michael can’t say no.”

“I am excited,” Will says, turning to face him, “so that’s real easy.”

Michael sighs. He taps his foot on the pavement, glaring. He sighs again. “You’re getting s plain cone and that’s that. You understand me?”

Will takes that as code for ‘begin negotiating’. Diana joins him, the two of them chasing Michael to the car, yelling about Blizzards and sundaes. Cass falls into step next to Lee, adjusting the flowers.

“So,” she says, shooting him a small smile.

“So,” he intones.

“Diana told me you snuck the boys out of camp.”

“…Yes.”

“Organised the whole trip, basically.”

“It wasn’t hard. I just told Michael to pack his shit and he listened, for once. So.”

“Lee.” She waits for him to open the trunk, letting him stuff the ridiculous flowers inside before facing him, grabbing his hands and squeezing. “Thank you.”

“I don’t —”

He swallows past the lump in his throat. How can he say it? How can he tell her about being fourteen and older than half the unclaimed kids in Hermes, still reeling over camp as a whole, and the fear that had dissipated from his chest when she stood in front of camp and said, firmly, he’s ours? About the hours she spent listening to him ramble about Pokémon, learning the game for him, mailing him cards she finds around? About the letters she sends him every week without fail, even though she’s swamped with her own shit, because she remembers the night he cried, months and years of being weird and lonely and unlike anyone else he knew? How can he explain the bubbling in his chest, the ache for her, because of her?

“Of course, Cass.”

She opens her arms and he falls into them, forehead on her shoulder, arms tight around her waist. She grips around his back, pressing a kiss to his hair. His throat is dry, choking back the thickness of his tears.

“I love you.”

“Love you too, Lee.”

#AND WERE DONE #AND ITS FIVE THIRTY IN THE MORNING FUCK #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #hoo #heroes of olympus #lee fletcher #will solace #michael yew #diana mckinney #cass hasapi #cabin seven #my writing #fic #longpost #song is orpheus by vincent lima btw #pjo hoo toa

229 notes · View notes