#let this man be a mother

[crismakesstuff]

cast out of paradise

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

No time to play. You are being sent away.

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[kiivg]

.please please please please please pl.

[literallyjusttoa]

I just finished the burning maze and OH. MY. GOD. My poor baby apollo. NO BODY ASKED IF HE WAS OKAY?? He was legit having to deal with MOLTEN HOT LAVA around his ankles and wrist WHILE HOLDING HIS ESSENCE TOGETHER AND SAYING THE SYBIL. HGJHzhGH

Yeah :(. I mean, everyone was in a rush in that scene, and Piper did try to comfort him a bit. He was just so in his self-loathing era that it barely registered, and also he twisted it around to her blaming him for Crest's death somehow which ... buddy. Therapy. Please.

Anyways tho to heal both of our souls I made some self-indulgant art of something that never could've happened in canon but dammit did Apollo really need it throughout the whole book series.

[insane-in-the-membranee]

I can forgive my father for all his wrongs against me, if only he had treated my mother differently. It is an echo, of what my mother says, "He may not be a good husband, but he is a good father." How do I tell her that one cannot exist without the other? He will never be a good father. He is not good to my mother.

—Reva

[tarta-tart]

:(((((

[gunstellations]

a little family

[littlefankingdom]

It's ironic how Batman is painted as irresponsible for having children fighting as his side (ignoring how said children would still fight without him), but never other heroes, HOWEVER the moment the Teen Titans/Young Justice wants to do something dangerous or comes back from doing something dangerous, he is literally the only responsible adult out of the Justice League. Like, the others are simply like "I'm so proud of you!" but Batman is lecturing his kids about how dangerous it was, how they didn't even told him where they were going, how they didn't contact him about their well-being enough, about how difficult it would have been for him to come help if they needed it... He's straight-up acting like a parent that found out his kid sneaked out, but they didn't came back until later the next day, and never called to tell them they were alive.

Bruce is portrayed as the "unfunny" one when one of his teenage kids is like "the team and I wants to do this dangerous thing unsupervised", because every other adult is fine with their own doing it, but like, he is being the responsible one. Yeah, a responsible parent would not be like "sure sweetie, go fight this dangerous thing with your teenage friends", they would be like "No, you could get hurt. Yes, I trust you, but this is not safe".

Sometimes, he isn't overprotective, he is normal-level-protective for when your kid is a "vigilante that fights people who will kill them without regret" as a hobby, and the others are being careless (no hate to them tho)

[cromulent-marshland]

Rip Mary Shelley, you would’ve loved Lisa Frankenstein. You would’ve called it the best adaptation of your work.

[noisesfrombeyondtheuniverse]

Gilear being Fabian and Fig's dad is so much fun to me i hope junior year has a scene with just the three of them.

[silverspadesss]

‘tomas and his two brothers step out…

carrying the alive but at the moment weak and sort of malnourished body of henry hubbard.’

THEIR REACTIONS. what if i sobbed

[felis-rach]

You call this a utopia?!

[s0fter-sin]

ghost stares at the ceiling, chest heaving in a harsh pant; sweat ice on his clammy flesh and soaked into the sheet he restlessly kicks away.

ears still ringing, his fingertips blindly drift down to trail along his vivisection scar. he half-expects blood to smear in their wake. his own line of solomon, who ordered him split in twain; half of him given to a grieving mother and half left with the grieving to be.

just for both his broken halves to be rejected.

what did it make him that his mother grieved him more than she loved him? that she begged to be relieved of him more adamantly than she begged to receive him? why did his worth spill out with his drawn blood? why was his pain lesser than hers?

his hand flexes, digging into the raised scar like it’ll part beneath his fingertips to plunge into his mangled insides. no one knows the cruelty of reforming the halved; his name, his being, not nearly as important as his body when he was stripped from himself. no one knows the pain of healing and understanding losing pieces of yourself means losing your value along with them.

how many more pieces did he have to lose before he was halved once more? before his very presence incurred grief so strong it was better to be rid of him than cradle his bloodied remains?

did the infant fight himself? did he age always at odds with himself; his halves never truly whole? he hopes he wasn’t, that he was spared the loss of self; the fear that one may be welcomed over the other.

who will he lose when the inevitable comes? when he’s ripped apart again? simon? or ghost? is it better to be cursed with choice just like his mother or live with an aftermath chosen for him? does it matter if in the end, he convinces himself there was nothing of him left to lose?

his head lolls to the side and the wild buck of his chest slows. he watches johnny beside him, his face lax with the rare peace of sleep; his cheek squished against the pillow, his lips pursed as long breaths escape him.

johnny. soap. never torn asunder but two all the same.

he carefully reaches out and ghosts his fingers along the jagged scar on his chin. even in sleep, he presses into his bloodied touch. he’s never fled his half-flesh, never shies away from his gore as it spills unbidden from his cleaved torso. he holds on where his mother let him go; cups his stomach to hold his insides in place and never minds the blood that drips through his fingers.

simon will never let him become his own solomon and cannibalise himself. he will never let him question which half of him has more value; which pieces he can afford to lose before he’s cast aside.

ghost’s soap. simon’s johnny. his.

whole, in any incarnation.

[moonlightflower-queen]

Rip Persephone she only ever got to raise plants

[fluffyflowersstuff]

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 242

   He looks the same as he had that fateful day, a storm raging around him and risking sending the ship down into the abyss. Hair whipping in the wind as the sky roars its deadly challenge echoed by the beasts they all sought to bring down those centuries ago. 

   It looks just as human as they- that is to say not at all, not anymore. A body twisted, sand and lightning melding into a molten sea ever-expanding. Its eyes as gold as the treasure it guards, brilliant blues and greens dancing across bodies in sigils unknown. 

   It looks exactly as it did that time ago, smile dancing on its lips as the sky opened up in torrents, like blood gushing from a wound. “You’re free to go,” it says, in words they understand and words they don’t. “You don’t have to stay here any longer.” 

   “Where will we go?” They ask, so very tired of this eternal battle, of being trapped in crashing waves and storms of water and sand. Being tossed one way and the other, never able to go home, for home was gone long ago. 

   It looks up, their own gaze following, the ship crashing through the dredges of a storm they had thought eternal. And for the first time in eternities, they see them. The stars. Dancing and dripping from a serpentine form that cradles the Sun and Moon, smiling down to the beast and them alike. 

   And so, they take from the seas, and take to the stars instead.