#Pjo Lee Fletcher

[bugwolfsstuff]

This Michael Yew and Lee Fletcher incorrect quote i found in my notes that i think is funny:

Lee: you know who you remind me of?

Michael: who?

Lee: Ash from Fantastic Mr Fox. Cus Ash is a type of tree, like Yew. And hes a little asshole

Michael: .....

Lee: also like you.

[hana-loves-bumblebees]

*SLAMS FIST* MALIBU RISING X PJO APOLLO AND HIS CHILDREN AU WHEN?!?!?!?!

[iamrizaka]

As much as I love the idea of Will wearing Lee's flannel after his death, I much more prefer a scenario where he was constantly trying to steal it when Lee wasn't looking. Lee got fed up with this gremlin child (affectionate) trying to steal his clothes (he knows that he should toss it out, burn it, but he can't bring himself to do it; it holds way too many memories) so he gets a green flannel and embroiders it with little sun symbols.

He hides it in one of the secret rooms in the infirmary, because he can't have any of his siblings – or worse, a spy – stumble across it in his cabin. He leaves it here and makes a promise to give it to Will on his birthday.

Over a year later, Will tries to find a place to hide – no one should see their head counselor and head medic cry. He finds this room and remembers the talks about it and how it was one of Lee and Luke's secret hideouts. He wants to leave; he doesn't need another memory of what it was and what it could've been. But his gut tells him to enter and he finds a neatly packaged box.

There's a green flannel and a note:

For my little brother, Will

— Lee

P.S. stop stealing my clothes!

He never takes it off.

[pain-is-too-tired]

I think more fics should include lil bits of southern accent coming from characters from the south.

Will, Leo, Hazel and Annabeth all start talking to eachother and suddenly you're hearing four different southern accents coming out

I mean already talked about the big three boys and them all having a partner from the south. But add Frank in there who's not even from the US and they all just starring like :0

Will and Leo with different Texas accents,Leo's probably with the added hispanic accent mixed in

Annabeth' Virginia accent hardly noticed cause she left there when she was pretty young, only to come out with certain words

Hazel's having a New Orleans accent is *slept* on y'all.

Which, also means on the Argo II anytime they were discussing and accents might've go thicker as they spoke faster you had the other four just starring like "mhm-yep-"

But like you also had a new yorker and a Canadian there as well as a guy that was raised by wolves so- accents must've been interesting on that ship XD

(Also-southern Lee Fletcher hc, mainly cause I'm shocked none of the children of Apollo we have a birth place for so far are from around Nashville. Come on, it's literally Music City. )

[rispen]

We do not have enough young Will content!

So please enjoy tiny Will Solace getting taught archery by his big bro Lee fletcher.

[thestarstoasun]

Sometimes I think about 10 yr old Will Solace taking care of Lee when his older brother was sick with the help of his other siblings. Will placing his hands on Lee's head about to ease the pain of a migraine before Michael tells him off for it, and telling him about them still needing to heal from sickness like mortals.

Then a year later after the Battle of the Labyrinth, Will has his hands on Lee's head desperately trying to convince himself his older brother can be saved - that he's doing more than just healing dead flesh despite the sickening feeling his healing is causing in place of the usual warmth. Michael once again pulls him away, but this time, there are tears in the new Cabin 7 Head's eyes. "He's gone, Will. You aren't doing anything but exhausting yourself. C'mon, bud." It was probably the most gentle Will had ever heard Michael Yew.

[solangelotus]

she’s thunderstorms

luke castellan x reader (MDNI)

beautiful patterns on the window pane

summary: you and luke agreed to be friends with benefits, but that all changes for you after a climactic moment together. luke knew his feelings before this agreement, but yours are a sudden revelation.

word count: 4.2k

warnings: zeus!reader, talks about greek tragedies/violence, angst if you squint, smut MDNI! (warnings under the cut). clarisse x silena. reader wears a bikini. percabeth mentions. reader has long enough hair for two braids

author’s note: this is based off of this post i saw! also, this is my first time writing something creatively in a whopping FIVE years! so please be kind <3 this will be a small series that i have planned out, but i want to see how this is received before committing!

masterlist | series masterlist

previous | next

smut warnings: oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (don’t do that), p in v, slight breeding kink maybe, praise, pet names. little bit of dom reader and sub luke but nothing too obvious

a forbidden child. gods and monsters alike all wanted you to pay for a life you didn’t even ask for. you had tried leaving camp occasionally, opting to try and live a somewhat normal life but it wasn’t possible as a child of the king of the gods. you always made your way back to camp half-blood, and back to the only place that feels like home.

this summer the heat is overwhelming. any day where you weren’t forced to teach combat or how to make friendship bracelets meant taking advantage of the empty beach that overlooked long island sound. your reprieve from the heat was typically spent with other campers. silena beauregard and clarisse la rue joined you today, and all three of you rested on towels underneath the bright sun.

“where’s luke?” clarisse asks, handing you a bowl of strawberries from the picnic basket you three had packed at lunch.

“oh, him and chris are stuck on dish duty,” silena explains with a shrug, not caring about the fact she’s to be blamed for their absences. “their cabin was a big mess this morning, and it was the nicest job i could give them. cabin nine is on stable duties right now. can’t have charlie thinking i’m soft on him. lee’s at an infirmary shift i think.”

“you are soft on him,” clarisse teases and silena scrunches her nose at her taller girlfriend. the latter shoves a strawberry into the former’s mouth with a laugh. “what? it’s no different than my friendship with chris, and i am not afraid to admit i’m soft on him. they're our exes.”

“y/n’s not soft on her exes, she’s only soft on her boy toy,” silena points out, and you lift your sunglasses to rest them on the top of your head. you narrow your eyes at the daughter of aphrodite.

“i don’t have any exes, and he is not my boy toy.”

“no, he’s just your best friend who you occasionally fuck and are completely in love with.”

“but you’re not denying that you have a soft spot for him?” silena smirks. of course, you are soft for luke castellan.

the son of hermes was the first person you met at camp and had been your best friend since you were fifteen. no matter how prideful you were, there was no chance of denying your loyalty to the boy who had been at your side for the last four years.

“it’s not like that,” you say to clarisse, ignoring silena’s question. “it’s strictly platonic. we have an agreement.”

“yeah, yeah, we know you don’t do relationships,” silena interjects, stating it as if it’s the biggest sin someone could commit. you suppose it may be to her; she was a favorite of her mother, and everything she did and said was full of love.

“no fighting, you two.”

“rich coming from you.”

“y/n!”

“what? i was joking!”

“it’s so funny,” clarisse deadpans, and the three of you begin to laugh. you put your empty bowl back into the picnic basket and pull your band tee off before pushing yourself up to stand.

“can we swim now?”

“give me a second,” the daughter of aphrodite says and takes your hand to stand. covering her swimsuit is a floor-length pink sundress that you’re certain was the reason she and clarisse happened to be late to the beach.

silena may have inherited desire from her mother, but clarisse inherited passion from her father. you never would have pinned clarisse to like fashion, but anytime silena wore a sundress it was bad news for anyone around them. once she sheds the dress, clarisse grabs her hand and runs towards the water. you trail behind them, enjoying the sight of two of your closest friends' love for each other.

truth be told, you did envy them to some extent. the average demigod's lifespan was already short, and yours was even shorter. making it to nineteen was a miracle in and of itself.

it didn’t seem fair to rope someone else into a romantic greek tragedy. you would only do it if you were the one left behind. but as a forbidden child, that was and will never be an option. you are the eurydice, the hyacinthus, the daphne, and the achilles. in every version of your story, death would be your only option. grief would be a privilege.

by the time the boys finished their chores, they came into view with a few stragglers behind them. “oh, great. i thought the point of beach days was that they were childless.”

“who even is it?” you ask after silena splashes clarisse for her comments.

“looks like that fucking new kid.”

“you stay away from him, clar.”

“no promises, love.”

“oh, are you talking about percy jackson?”

“yeah, he failed his cabin inspection too,” silena answers you. if you had a soft spot for anyone, it would undoubtedly be the only other forbidden child at camp (sans your pine tree sister). luke spent a lot of time training percy, and you spent a lot of time voicing your experiences and frustrations with each other.

“he’s the only one in his cabin.”

“so is y/n, and she hardly ever makes it in the top five,” silena points out and you splash her. the boys set down their stuff, and you notice percy getting pushed by another girl. you make your way onto the shore as percy sprints past you with annabeth right on his heels.

“hey, stormy,” luke greets you. you swat at his hand which tries to touch your hip and push him away from you with a laugh. he gets his hands back on you and pulls your back flush against his chest. his hand snakes around to rest on the lower part of your belly. “can you blame me for wanting to get my hands on you when you look this good?”

“luke!” you chastised. before summer started, you both had snuck out of camp to go shopping with the money your mom had sent you. when you tried on the royal blue bikini, luke’s jaw had gone slack and you knew you had to buy it. he looks at you with a smirk once you spin around, and you stand on the tip of your toes to whisper in his ear. “you can do that later.”

“gods,” he mumbles and watches as you run back into the water. you cup a handful of water and throw it at percy who retaliates by sending a wave of water down on top of you.

luke feels like he can’t breathe when he sees you laugh and squeeze the water out of your soaking braids. he watches your hands and feels his heartbeat race as he sees you adjust the bottoms of your swimsuit.

“stop staring,” lee fletcher nudges him with a smile, and chris nods from beside him. the boys relentlessly tease luke at every chance they get. they knew to keep the information about you and luke to themselves but he was a loudmouth. he had trouble keeping it in when you were such a beautiful person to love on.

“i need to go help lena with clarisse before she tries to kill percy,” chris groans and runs into the water when percy accidentally splashes her in the process of trying to get annabeth. beckendorf follows him to help, but silena successfully stops clarisse’s anger with a kiss. luke wishes he could be so open with his affection for you.

he pulls his shirt off and sets it down beside yours. he catches your smile when he begins his descent into the water, and your eyes dip down to his v-line that pokes out from his swimming trunks. gods, he is going to kill you someday.

“y/n,” annabeth drags out your name and tugs on your arm, “play chicken with me and percy, please?”

“sure, you want castellan in on it?”

“luke,” she calls out and wades over to him. he smiles at her and tries to shake his head, but the young girl tugs him over until you are face to face with his pout.

“this feels unfair, stormy. why did you say yes?”

“just bend down,” you instruct and he blushes. he would be lying if he said he doesn’t love when you order him around.

“yes, ma’am.”

you push yourself up onto the lithe boy’s shoulders, just as a wave pulls annabeth out of the water and onto percy’s shoulders. she squeals in surprise, and he latches onto her hands to keep her balanced. you smile at the two, and look over at silena who sends you a silent message: percy is trying to impress annabeth. he likes her, and you know the daughter of athena well enough to recognize those feelings are returned.

annabeth calls your name, and you find yourself tugging and pushing against her to try and knock her off of her perch. luke’s grip on your thighs is distracting, especially as you feel him move his hands higher up at each opportunity. your heart speeds up in your chest and you can’t tell if it’s from the hands teasing the flesh on your legs or from the excitement of pushing the girl into the water.

percy groans and dips under the water to find her, while you and luke cheer. you try to coax him to look up at you but fail to move his head and feel a sharp, pleasurable pain on your thigh. you smack his chest, and he looks up at you with a wide grin. your heart drops to your stomach when you see the deep red mark presenting itself on your thigh. you splash water at his face when you hop down from his shoulders and he winces. “did you fucking bite me?”

“that,” he pauses and pulls you flush against him, “is payback for annabeth wanting me to go to the infirmary last week for the hickeys you left.”

“oh.”

it wasn’t very often that luke was able to make a mess of you in public. usually, you force him to keep it behind closed doors. he stares down at you with a smirk, enjoying the pink dusting your cheeks.

he spins you and wraps his arms around you from behind. you were familiar with this dangerous dance of his, one that he does when he wants you. “it would be a shame if a storm were to ruin our beach day, and we had to go back to your cabin.”

“a shame indeed,” you agree, and feel a tug in your stomach as you hold your hand towards a faraway point of the rocky shore. lightning strikes down, and a scream comes from percy as rain clouds begin forming overhead. annabeth laughs at her boy’s antics and runs with him as he tries to get to the shore as fast as possible. “you’re going to have to work a little harder than that to get what you want.”

“y/n, luke! come on!” silena calls and luke whines as you push off of him. he watches as you saunter out of the water, one hand behind you as you wield more storm clouds into camp. he slowly follows you and dies when you pull your tee shirt over your head. your ass pokes out from the bottom of the arctic monkeys shirt he had gotten with a five-finger discount at a concert you had snuck into. he would do anything you want right now if you were alone on this beach.

you turn around and toss him your towel, which blinds him as it lands directly on his face. you and percy laugh together, and luke just stands in defeat until he feels the fabric fall off his face. you move and stop yourself in front of him to wrap the towel around his neck as if it’s a cape. the smile on your face as you dry off his shoulders and chest makes him fully believe you were made for him. he says a silent prayer to zeus. he finds himself praying to your father more than ever. only the king of the gods could bring such an ethereal being to life. he’s sure that you were more divine than human.

“you like this, don’t you?” you ask. luke leans his face into your hands as you dry his hair off.

“hmm?”

“me taking care of you,” you add, causing him to blush. he takes the towel from you and covers his face again. “nothing to be embarrassed about, pretty boy. you know i like it, too.”

“stormy,” he groans and you rip the towel off his face.

“c’mon guys, we need to get back to our cabins before the storm starts,” lee ushers everyone off the shore.

“it just came out of nowhere,” percy pouts, saddened by the rain ruining his swimming.

“yeah, super weird, perce,” silena agrees and narrows her eyes at you. you tug luke with you as you run off into the tree line with him. far enough away from both the beach and the cabins is when you find yourself pushing luke against the trunk of a tree. he smiles down at you, his cheeks red, and he reminds you vividly of the first time you decided to sleep together.

bruises litter his skin as you kiss a path up his chest back to his neck. his hands grip your thighs and you let out quiet sighs when he squeezes them ever so slightly. you sit up, your core resting lightly on him, and grind down on him. his eyes close at the movement and he lets out a low groan, his grip becoming tighter. it feels more intimate than anything you have done. your best friend squirms underneath you, and you feel a love and desire unlike any before.

you cup his cheeks and instruct him to open his eyes. he looks at you with heavy lids, and a heavy, warm feeling erupts in your chest. his cheeks are flushed, and he has a small content smile on his face. you feel like the most important person in the world; you feel like more than just a daughter.

you dip down and kiss him hard, a moan surprising the both of you from the back of his throat. you roll your hips against his again and open your mouth in surprise at how hard he is. his head falls back against your pillow, and you begin to kiss along his jaw, “is this okay?”

“yeah, that’s — that’s okay, y/n,” he speaks through gasps and you smile against his skin. he feels your teeth against his adam’s apple and murmurs your name again. “please, keep going. don’t stop.”

luke’s mouth on yours brings you out of your reverie. his hands toy with the end of your shirt, and he slips his tongue into your mouth when you gasp. his fingertips trace lightly over your core on your bikini bottoms, and your hands grip his arms tightly. you can hear your friends closing in from a distance. “we can’t be doing this here, luke.”

“i want you,” he whines when you circle his wrist with your fingers to pull it away. you let go and walk backwards in the direction of the camp with him walking slowly towards you, like a predator to prey.

“come get me then,” you tell him and turn to sprint towards your cabin. he has an advantage in sword fighting, but you will always be faster than him. he gains ground on you with his long legs, but you run into your cabin before him. his chest heaves by the time you let him lay you down on the bed.

luke likes you in control of him, teasing and teaching him where you like to be touched. he enjoys you teaching him new things about himself, where he’s most sensitive, and what makes him cum fastest. he loves when you relinquish control once in a while and you let him divulge and enjoy every part of your body that he can.

what luke castellan enjoys most is when your body shakes as he eats you out. he knows you love it, too, by the eagerness with which you allow the bottoms of your bikini to be removed.

he applies light pressure to your clit with his tongue and pushes your hips down to prevent you from squirming away from him. fervent moans leave your body, and your thighs squeeze his head. the way his tongue quickly switches from kitten licks to lapping makes your head spin until his name comes out like a mantra, like a prayer. luke, luke, luke. you’re tempted to give gratitude to the gods for blessing you with such a lover.

when he kisses you, you wrap your legs around his waist and rake your fingers through his hair. he pulls away and nuzzles his face into your neck. you wrap your arms around him, in a tight hug, and a contented sigh leaves his lips. he enjoys moments where you let him love you too.

his feelings remain unknown to you, but each time he finds himself touching you, tasting you, and feeling you around him is reason enough to enjoy your friendship as it is. although, truly, he feels this is something that even friends don’t do. you confirm his suspicions when you manage to flip him and remove his swim trunks. no friend that he knows of could ever touch him so easily, get him to breathe so heavily, and make him nearly cum with just a few strokes.

“leave your shirt on,” he breathes out, his breathing heavy from you guiding him inside you. he fills you completely, and a sigh escapes your lips. your eyes meet each other and luke believes you look like royalty with the soft glow of the sunset in the background creating a halo around your head. your hair is in two braids — something he was sure clarisse did for you — and he toys with the ends, trying to steady his breathing as you remain reluctant to move.

“why?”

“truthfully, you look stunning in nothing but that shirt?”

“this shirt?” you laugh, and he groans as he feels you tighten around him. his head falls back against his pillow, and you move your hips in slow, languid circles against him.

it’s hard to keep serious, to act like he doesn’t press against your walls in the most perfect ways. like he doesn’t make you feel better than any person before him. you rest a hand on the nape of his neck and push lightly so he is forced to look at you. you try to remain calm, despite the building pressure. “clarisse always goes crazy when silena wears sundresses. you feel that way with these shirts?”

“yes,” he sighs. you often find yourself being asked to keep the band tees on during sex that he has stolen for you. luke can’t explain it, there’s just something so electric about something he has gotten you adorning your body. the bands, and the music, brought you much passion and you when you were passionate was something that drove him up a wall.

he couldn’t deny that your frame adored by the graphic band tees was something he thought about while fucking his fist when he failed to have you. now that he has you, he tries his best to share what turns him on the most. “you look like royalty.”

“i am,” you retort, and increase the pace of your hips. you groan and lean down to rest your forearms on either side of his head. he looks at you, eyes full of bliss, and he sits up enough to smash your lips together. you moan into his mouth, struggling to keep your wits when it feels so good. “what do you want, pretty boy?”

luke takes a second to comprehend your question. he’s whimpering and gripping your sides hard enough to leave bruises. sometimes you wonder if you are made for each other when he fucks you this well. he tries to take a deep breath, but his breath comes out in shutters. “can i mark you up?”

“f-fuck, yeah,” you mutter, and he sits up, his confidence increasing from the stutter in your words. he wraps his arms around your back, pulling you tight against him. he nibbles at your neck, running his tongue over the marks to soothe them. you are sure you have reached elysium; his teeth on your neck, and his hands guiding your hips as you rock against him. “luke?”

this is the most control you have ever granted him. he relishes the opportunity to make you fall apart and wonders why it all suddenly feels so different as you struggle to keep up your pace. on the other hand, you found yourself experiencing similar thoughts. you are more relaxed this time, more comfortable with allowing him to do whatever he wants with your body. it’s true intimacy, you finally allow yourself to relinquish what led you to sex in the first place: control.

“yeah?”

“i-i want, um, i want,” you pause, taking in a gasp of air. he feels so good, so godly. you feel pathetic but fail to care. you know luke would never use this vulnerability against you. it’s hard to focus when he fills you so perfectly to the point where you are nearly knocked over the edge.

“what do you want, princess?” he asks, and you blush at the near-pornographic moan that leaves your throat. you rest your forehead on his shoulder, trying to hide your flushed cheeks. he reaches between your sweaty bodies and begins to rub harsh circles on your clit, causing a high-pitched whine to leave your throat. “c’mon, princess, you're doing so good. tell me what you want.”

“fuck,” you cry, biting down on his shoulder to prevent another loud moan from escaping your mouth. he groans and quickened his pace on your clit, causing another string of whimpers to leave you. you are entirely sure that you have never remained on edge for so long. you want to scream, to shout his name to anyone who will hear. you don’t even care if the whole camp hears. the praises, the nicknames, it’s all so new and so invigorating.

“please, talk to me.”

“i’m so close.”

“me too, baby. where do you want me to finish?”

“luke,” your voice comes out as a whine again, “cum in me.”

few words escape either of you, they are replaced with lewd sounds loud enough to only increase your arousal. he channels his unraveling with fast, rough movements on your clit, and with his mouth sucking on your neck.

you cum first, squeezing him within an inch of his life. he removes his fingers from your core, and places them on your hips, lifting and slamming you down on his cock. you nearly scream, the feeling so overstimulating after two orgasms.

when he finally cums in you with a groan, you clench around him, milking every last drop you can get. when you first slept together (and every consecutive time following), you felt embarrassed at the idea of him cumming inside of you being so hot.

he assures you each time that he feels the same, but you never have the confidence to let it happen. now you couldn’t care less at the idea as he collapses onto his back with you falling on his chest.

both of you are unsure of how long you lay there, but it’s long enough for him to soften inside of you. every movement leaves you whimpering, so spent from the activities of the day. he holds you tight, and you trace shapes and letters on his chest as he tries to guess them.

when he finally falls asleep, you pull yourself off him and admire the soft, kind boy beside you. you trace the scar on his face, and lean up to kiss the corner of his mouth. he doesn’t so much as stir in his sleep, and you catch yourself tracing three letters on his chest: I, L, Y.

luke is clueless of this as he sleeps, which you thank the gods for. love was never something you thought you would experience, but this surely had to be it, right? this was something so spectacular and ground shaking to you.

there were parts of yourself that he knew of that you would never tell anyone. you were fucked, you knew this the first time he made you cum. all of that pent up tension was more than sexual frustration, it was desire and blooming feelings you tried to hide from the moment you met him.

no one matches the feeling in your chest when he smiles. no one matches the butterflies in your belly when he pays you attention. no one ever has and ever will receive the same love you give luke, and maybe this is the moment where you finally will accept that it’s okay to love the son of hermes.

[mediumgayitalian]

“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.”

[ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhghg]

My designs for the apollo cabin wooooo!

(Feel free to criticize for my art lol i wont get hurt)

(I'm making the big three kids next)

[owlch333]

Camp Counselors!!

[frozenrose20]

I love the name Lester Papadopoulos its so silly but could you imagine is Zeus gave Apollo a name like Lee Yew or Michael Fletcher as a way to taunt him for his failures and so everytime some one says his name he is reminded of his sons he didn't save. Imagine when they first get to camp and Meg is insistent in calling him his fake name because she finds it funny and failing to notice how the campers physically recoil at hearing those names again.

[bugwolfsstuff]

Spoilers for the book series

In the books its kinda implied that Luke is going to Elysium and:

Im just thinking about the absolute horror everyone that died in either battles felt when he got there.

Like regardless of whether or not you think he's a hero (he isnt btw, just cus you fix the war you started doesnt make you good) you gotta realize is that none of the others see what we see.

What they see is the dude that started a war that got them killed in their 'paradise'

What they see is a senseless murderer who feels no remorse for what he's done in 'heaven'

Because.... *checks notes*

Godly nepotism cus his dad is the guide of the dead

He killed himself at the very last second because he suddenly decided he didnt want to be a killer no more after many DIED.

Honestly if Luke is in Elysium i hope hes in it to become a piñata for Castor's next 'we're dead oh no' party.

Or for them to just verbally abuse him.

Makes me kinda wanna write them all coming up individually to scream at him. Like these were all teenagers that died cus a bitchy little piss baby named Luke decided to make a change by palling up with Child Chompermagee

Charles and Silena were going to collage for fucksake!

And Castor wont see his twin for a long time -and HOLY FUCK HE WONT SEE HIS DAD EVER AGAIN.

[mrsoftthoughts]

Both Aphrodite and Apollo cabins are popular in camp half-blood for being full of pretty people, both cabins campers have the reputation of being the most attractive persons in miles around without exaggerating

But also a general concense is that the beauty of the two cabins is pretty much different

Apollo "the most beautiful among the gods"always was represented as a kouros his image was the perfection of a young man, the top of the bar when is about a standard

And just like their father Apollo kids often are sort kind of standar

They are an ideal of what is supposed to be attractive, being always aligned to what is the hegemony of beauty, obviously that doesn't mean that all of them are "perfect" is comun that one of two things slip out the parameters, their dad is also a very artistic god and what's art wihout breaking some limitations? but the point remains, they're attractive to almost everyone because they are what you always heard is supposed to be beautiful

Aphrodite, in the other hand, is the goddess of love and beauty as concepts , something so fluid and free to interpretation and we see that with her, because she's not an standar, an standar is closed and pretty well known, she is the beauty itself donw your ideas of it always changing because to no one she would be exactly the same

And their kids also are like their Mother, changing and indescriptible

their faces are always beautiful down what its their own idea of beauty, but for you they would look a little bit as your own ideals, and even if they weren't your type you can't deny that it's something magnetic around them, it's not just the beautiful looks but also pure incarnated Beauty that no words can describe.

[iamrizaka]

Lee: Do you know the ABCs of first aid?

Will: A. Bone. Coming out of the skin is very bad.

Lee: ...good enough. Welcome to the Medic Team!

[pain-is-too-tired]

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.

[batcavescolony]

I have a head canon that before he was mortal Apollo is an ok parent by godly standards. He has a lot of kids, they seem like they aren't angry towards him and he knows most of his kids in TOA even though he can't remember much else. It's like He's full of himself but that carries over to his kids. He's the center of the universe, perfect, amazing, the literal sun. His kids half of him so they're ALSO perfect, amazing, talented and the best. I really can't think of a Apollo kid that went to Luke's side so I think it's cus they know exactly where they stand with their godly parent. Obviously he's still a God so he wasn't like at their little league games but his cabin knows he thinks about them.