#pjo diana

[tsarisfanfiction]

Ghostly Reinforcements

Fandom: Trials of Apollo Rating: Teen Genre: Family/Hurt/Comfort Characters: Lee, Apollo, Diana Tarquin was mutilating and disrespecting Hades' domain. Hades decided he wasn't going to stand for it. TOApril day 13 - Curse of Eternal Youth. Twisting this prompt dramatically here until it basically means "Apollo's Dead Kids". Vague what-if scenario I've toyed with in my mind for a while, where Hades/Pluto decides he's had enough of all the undead hanging around in TTT and does something about it.

There was something about being back in the Overworld that felt wrong, for all that he had used to live there.  Once upon a time, the Overworld was home, was normal, was where his soul felt settled and comfortable.  Now, it wasn’t.  Now his soul fidgeted, uncomfortable with the large expanse of sky above him, the sensation of the wind brushing past him, with earth below his feet.  Everything felt weird and displaced.

But it made sense.

After all, he was dead, and the dead didn’t visit the Overworld.  Eurydice had tried, with the help of Orpheus, but he’d failed and she’d been sent straight back to her forever home in the Underworld.  No-one else had even come that close, until now.

Hades was furious about something.  He didn’t know what, wasn’t privy to exactly what his god and king had been so provoked by, but he knew enough.

Lee knew that his dad needed help, and that was all he needed to know.

There was an army of them, familiar faces to him.  Some of them he’d known while he was alive, several were his siblings, or his friends, people that had died both before and after him during the titan war, and whatever had gone on after that.  Some of them he’d only met in Elysium, others considered heroes by the standards of the Underworld.

He was directly flanked by his siblings – Michael was almost his age, having almost closed the gap between them and dying only two months younger than the age Lee had been when he’d found himself on the bank of the Styx with the heart-wrenching knowledge that he wasn’t going to make it to adulthood after all, that his dreams had been crushed underneath a giant’s club.  There were Hunters he recognised, too.

Lee had never known for certain that the red-headed girl, Phoebe, had been his sister.  Not while they were still alive.  She’d admitted it when he’d met her in Elysium, and it had made so much sense.  She and Michael still didn’t get on – but here they were, both in the army Hades had raised.

It was a huge army, but still barely a fraction of the residents of Elysium, and it hadn’t escaped Lee’s notice that so many of them were somehow connected to Apollo.  Children, lovers, other descendants – legacies, they called themselves.

Over the millennium, Apollo had made more mortal bonds than Lee would ever have been able to comprehend while he was still alive.  Now that he was dead, it was one of those things that settled in the back of his mind with a quiet of course and no need to think about it further.  It was simply a fact.

And now, they’d been unleashed.

It was temporary, Hades had stressed.  There was a matter that required his intervention at Camp Jupiter – another of those quiet of courses that would have sent living!Lee into a headspin but now sat simply as a fact of existence – and for that intervention to occur, he was sending warriors to deal with it.

Their march was a mishmash of styles.  Romans settled into cohorts, Greeks scattered into whatever groups and arrangements made sense to them.  People who were neither found their own thing, too, as they all adjusted to the bizarreness that was being back in the Overworld.  For some of them, it had been millennia.

Time didn’t mean anything in the Underworld, not to the dead, but Lee knew it hadn’t been too long since he’d died.  The young, most-recently dead of all of them had had enough time to confirm that before he took his place near the head of the army, with the other Romans.

Camp Jupiter was burning, but that didn’t matter to the dead.  They didn’t have lungs that cared about smoke, or hearts to pump oxygen around their bodies.  They didn’t have bodies the way that the living did, something that instead seemed translucent under the light of the sun, even though they could interact with the Overworld, a little bit.

It took effort, but the dead didn’t know exhaustion so that didn’t matter as they advanced, falling upon the army trying to raise the Roman camp to the ground and charging through them.

They could interact enough to kill.

The living couldn’t touch them.

Defeated monsters faded to Tartarus before they could lash out, and the souls of the defeated mortals, well.  Clearly Hades was keeping a close eye on things, because the souls of the slain Romans joined their ranks and threw themselves back into battle with a vengeance when death didn’t stop them.

Thanatos was whisking away the dead mortals of the Triumvirate before they had a chance to try and keep their own war going.

The reinforcements of Artemis – Diana – and her Hunters simply sealed the deal.  The goddess herself disappeared deep into the heart of the city, and Thalia barely blinked as her dead sisters of silver rejoined her ranks, fitting seamlessly back into the Hunt as though they’d never left.  Romans gradually slipped back into their own cohorts, and Hades’ army of the dead gradually dispersed throughout the battle until it was over.

It was the first time Lee had made it all the way through a battle, he realised with some bemusement, but being near-untouchable and already-dead was rather a cheat.  The dead pulled their weight as the fighting faded to be replaced with clean-up, pulling bodies to where they needed to be and searching for cowering survivors from both sides (there were children, in the city, children that the Triumvirate had been willing to slaughter alongside the warriors).

Lee wanted to say it was an accident when he stumbled into a bookshop, but while it hadn’t been his intent he didn’t think it was a coincidence, either.  The silver-gold eyes of the twelve-year-old goddess that showed nothing but expectation when he accidently met them all but confirmed that something had pushed him there.

Some things didn’t need to be thought about.

“Lee?”

His name was a broken gasp, coming from a scruffy-looking teenager that Lee had never seen before in his life and who certainly looked like he’d seen better days.  Actually, the only one in the room he did recognise was Diana herself; the other girls were also strangers, to him, but at least they were also eyeing him like he was a stranger.

The younger girl was eyeing him like an enemy, and Lee distinctly hoped she wasn’t about to try and kill him for a second time.

He was more interested in the teenage boy staring at him like he’d seen, well, a ghost, and the face was unfamiliar but there was something his eyes that wasn’t.

When the boy’s knees buckled, Lee surged forwards, and caught his elbows.  It took all of his focus to not drop him, and the sudden movement from the other girls – excluding Diana, who seemed content to simply watch – implied he’d startled them.

Their weapons went straight through him, and he ignored them.

“Hi, Dad,” he said, because there wasn’t anyone else the teenager could be, even if he was all wrong for Apollo.

Lee was all wrong, now, too.

“What- How-?”

“Pluto took exception to Tarquin’s encroaching upon his domain,” Diana said.  “My Hunters were not your only reinforcements.”

The black girl’s shoulders slumped in relief, and Lee realised there was something familiar about her, too.  Not her face – he had never met the girl before, in either his life or his afterlife – but her soul.

“Father couldn’t have given me a warning?” she wondered, clicking the familiarity into place, because she felt like Underworld.  Not the same way the dead did, but like their Lord did.

Lee fell to his knees, too, lowering his father the rest of the way down in the process.  “My Lady,” fell out from his mouth without his control, because she was still living but her father was his Lord, and it was ingrained.

She looked flustered, and he felt a little bad about that.

“So what, you’re another zombie but on Apollo’s side?” the other girl, the one that looked a similar age to Diana but was probably actually that age asked.  She sounded like she was trying to be dismissive, but Lee had spent years with Michael and still had eternity to go with his prickly younger brother.  If she genuinely didn’t care, he would eat his arrows.

“I’m dead, not undead,” he corrected, and hated how Apollo flinched when he said it.  “But yes.  I was on Dad’s side when I was living, and I’ll stay on his side now.”

“Unless that’s overridden by Pluto,” Diana reminded him, and it was Lee’s turn to flinch, because it was true – Hades was his god, now, and obeying him was in his being just the same kneeling for his daughter was.

Being dead was a freedom that only lasted as long as his god decreed, even for souls in Elysium.

Apollo burst into tears.

Lee had to concentrate hard, as his father wrapped him up in a solid embrace, to make sure they didn’t slip through each other.  The dead and the living were not meant to interact, not like this, and Apollo wasn’t quite a god.

The glimmer was there, deep inside him – so deep that Lee couldn’t see it, only knew it was there because if it wasn’t then no amount of Lee’s concentrating would have let the hug work – but he was overwhelmingly human and that made it hard to touch.

But not even the gods came into Elysium, so this was still more than Lee had had since he’d died.

Diana permitted the reunion for a few moments, before heading for the door.  “This place still smells of burnt Cyclops,” she said, and swept out, her wolves – which Lee had barely noticed until they brushed past him – following.

“C’mon,” the younger girl said.  “Let’s go, dummy.”

Lee didn’t like anyone calling his dad dummy, but Apollo’s next sob almost sounded like a chuckle, and Lee knew he didn’t know enough about any of this to judge.

“How long are you here?” his dad asked as he pulled himself to his feet – somewhat aided by the impatient tugging of the girl.

Lee shrugged.  “Until Hades recalls us,” he assumed, and Apollo’s head snapped around as fast as a giant’s club falling into a skull.

“Us?”

Lee gave him a gentle smile.  “Yeah,” he said.  “Us.”

He wasn’t surprised when Apollo bolted for the door, although he was surprised enough at the teenage body trying to grab him in the process that he didn’t manage to let the contact stick.  Fresh tears welled up in Apollo’s eyes as his arm passed straight through him, and Lee immediately lurched forwards to grab his wrist.

“Sorry,” he said as they walked out, the two girls following closely behind them.  Ahead, Diana was waiting in the street, arms crossed.  “I have to focus.”

“It- it’s okay,” Apollo replied, his voice shaking in a way that said it wasn’t okay at all, but there was nothing Lee could do about it.

All he could do was stick close to Apollo as they headed for where the survivors – and the dead – were cleaning up – and savour the unexpected chance to interact with his dad one more time.

[flaredcfan]

Demi-god son of Hera [name]: My baby is so amazing. He's the most beautiful man I've ever seen. I'm going to make him my husband, he's so wonderful! (Insert heart eyes)

Apollo: ...Are we looking at the same person here?

John Constantine, in a toga, loudly snoring with drool running down his face, VERY drunk from Dionysus' wine:

Diana (Aka Wonder Woman), whispering: I think he's been cursed by Aphrodite, brother.

Apollo, cringing as he watched [name] fawn over his lover: That seems very likely...

Aphrodite, appearing out of nowhere: I'll have you know, I didn't do anything. This is all him... He and his mother have horrible taste in men (insert scoff)

[mediumgayitalian]

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.”

[on-the-clear-blue]

Okay so I might be fucking brainrotted, but I have been having a brain worm that is just good soup.

So it's PJO x DC, like all the godly things are happening in the world of DC and like....

I want Diana to be away doing JL stuff while the whole Percy Jackson books are happening and like

Demigods have stories about the Wonder Woman! The one demigod that saves those that are in need of help! The sword of Olympus! Demigod of Zeus!

But the Titan war rages...do the Demigods pray to their parents? Begging them to send their sword to help? Are their prays lay unanswered because she is out of their reach? Is she off galavanting in space while the young Demigods die?

Would the prophecy that Percy is forced to shoulder Diana's? She is the oldest demigod of the Big Three after all.

Kronos is deafted. The Demigods scorned, disbelieving in the Wonder Woman.

How would Diana react? The pain and anguish she would go through? I kinda like the idea of the Demigods knowing of her but not her of them, just to see her reaction of finding out the average age that Greek Demigods die, (I think it's about 13? I think it could honestly be lower)

What would the justice league feel? Some of them gain their powers from the Greek gods, Hermes is tied to the speed force, captain Marvel is draws his magic from several gods, fucking Aquaman and his fish person things! I know there is more but my point stands.

Idk if I am going to write this as a fic but I just needed to get the idea out there hehe

[holly-natnicole]

Ártemis: "Don't have sex, because you will get pregnant and die! Don't have sex in the missionary position, don't have sex standing up; just don't do it, okay. Promise?"

Callisto: *being a lesbian* "Not even with you?"

Ártemis: *being aro ace* "NO!!"

_________________________________________

Diana: *pinches Her nose* "What part of eternal maidenhood do people not understand?"

_________________________________________

Ártemis: "Never, in my two millennia as the leader of this Hunt, have I seen such shameful behaviour."

_________________________________________

Phoebe: *pausing a car with a dryad who is a Hunter of Artemis and a likewise naiad sitting at the backseat of the roofless car* "Get in, loser; we're going hunting."

_________________________________________

Phoebe (who has been teasing her fellow Hunter of Artemis each day for the past week): "Nice net, Bri!! What's it made out of?"

Britomartis: *angrily sarcastic* "Your mum's chest hair!!"

_________________________________________

Britomartis: "One time Atalanta punched Orion in the face. It was awesome!!"

_________________________________________

Zoë Nightshade to Bianca di Angelo: *pulling on her silver parka jacket* "On each day, we wear silver."

_________________________________________

Naomi: "That is so fetch!!"

Phoebe: "Naomi, stop trying to make fetch happen. It's not going to happen!!"

_________________________________________

Zoë Nightshade to Hippolytus: "If you're a Hunter of Artemis, why are you male?"

Britomartis: "Oh my Gods; Zoë, you can't just ask people why they're male!"

_________________________________________

Zoë Nightshade: "Raise your hand if you have ever been personally victimised by boys or men."

Half of the Hunters of Artemis (even the extremely few dyadic cis male ones): *raise their left or right hand*

_________________________________________

Josephine: *kisses Hemithea on the lips*

Josephine: "Really, I don't know why I did this. I guess it's probably because I've got a big lesbian crush on you!"

_________________________________________

Naomi shortly after Hemithea (alongside Josephine) quit being a member of the Hunters of Artemis: "Why do you use super-jumbo tampons?"

Hemithea: "I can't help it!! I've got a heavy flow and a wide-set vulva!!"

_________________________________________

Thalia Chase: "Naomi, I'm sorry I laughed at you that time you got diarrhea at Evington Park."

Naomi: *crosses her arms and glares*

Thalia Chase: "And I'm sorry for telling everyone about it."

All of the other Hunters of Artemis: *staring in silence*

Thalia Chase: "And I'm sorry for repeating it now."

Zoë Nightshade: *pinches her nose*

Bianca di Angelo: *facepalms*

_________________________________________

Zoë Nightshade's & Reyna de la Fuerza's approach towards being Bianca di Angelo's big sister: "I just want you to know, if you ever need anything, don't be shy."

Thalia Chase's approach to it: "There are no rules in the Hunt. Lets burn this Barbie!!"

_________________________________________

Diana (returning from New Rome with a package): "Hey, gals! Happy hour is from four to six!"

Reyna de la Fuerza: "Um, is there alcohol in this?"

Diana: "Oh, Gods, Reyna, no! What kind of leader do you think I am? Why, do you want a little bit? Because if you're going to drink I'd rather you do it at the campsite."

_________________________________________

Ártemis: *being aro ace* "At your age, you're going to have a lot of urges. You're going to want to take off your clothes, and touch each other. But if you do touch each other, you will get chlamydia... and die."

Reyna de la Fuerza: *also aro ace, pinches her nose in exasperation*

The rest of the Hunters of Artemis: *staring in wide-eyed horror, except for Thalia Chase who claps her hands & smirks evilly*

_________________________________________

Reyna de la Fuerza: "Calling somebody else fat won't make you any skinnier. Calling someone stupid doesn't make you any smarter. And ruining Octavian's life definitely didn't make me any happier. All you can do in life is try to solve the problem in front of you."

[girlkisser13]

artemis cabin headcanons

the hunters of artemis

• when a hunter join the hunt, they no longer get periods as a blessing from artemis. (another reason to become a hunter?? jk i love women WAY too much).

• obviously, they’re all feminists.

• most of them can't take sexist jokes, so be careful unless you want to get shot with an arrow.

• they keep in touch with the girls that have left the hunt.

• when two hunters fall in love, artemis usually shows mercy, knowing the vow spoke of leaving behind the company of men not women.

• they’ve definitely bumped into the valkyrie on more than one occasion. artemis doesn’t like them very much because she doesn’t want her hunters to become einherjar.

• she’d rather they have the peace and calmness that they deserve.

• much like the camp half-blood necklace beads, the hunters have charm bracelets. they get a charm in the shape of a moon once they arrive and then a star shaped one every ten years they serve artemis.

• trans girls are ALWAYS accepted into the hunt.

• but if a trans guy wants to join the hunt (pretransition), artemis will straight up refuse to take them, subsequently kicking of their gender crisis.

• she’ll also do this with pretransition trans women (to their great confusion).

• the minimum age to become a hunter is sixteen, unless there are special circumstances (it just doesn’t sit right with me that most of the hunters are in their preteens).

• this is a big decision and shouldn’t be made at such a young age. let these girls go through puberty and find out whether they really want to forsake men forever.

• plus, it’d actually benefit the hunters to be more physically mature; they’d be a lot stronger and therefore faster due to the muscle development.

• they have a hotline number that women can call if they feel extremely uncomfortable or fearful in a situation.

• they'll discretely escort her out and then beat the shit out of whoever is scaring her. <33

cabin exterior

• the cabin is primarily made of wood, with vines and ivy creeping up its sides, blending seamlessly with the surrounding forest.

• the cabin's roof is adorned with silver tiles that shimmer like moonlight, casting a gentle glow at night.

• carvings of various wild animals, such as deer, wolves, and bears, are intricately etched into the wooden walls, symbolizing artemis's connection with nature and wildlife.

• during the day, the cabin appears almost invisible from a distance, thanks to its natural camouflage of leaves and branches, making it a perfect sanctuary for the hunters.

• the entrance is flanked by banners with the symbol of the moon and arrows, representing artemis's hunting prowess and her role as the goddess of the moon.

• hidden paths and trails lead from the cabin into the deeper parts of the forest, allowing the hunters to come and go without being seen.

cabin interior

• the walls and floors are made of polished wood, giving the cabin a warm and rustic feel. the wood is adorned with carvings of forest scenes and animals.

• soft, silvery lanterns hang from the ceiling, casting a gentle glow reminiscent of moonlight. at night, these lights give the cabin a tranquil, otherworldly ambiance.

• the bunks are arranged in a circle around a central hearth. each bunk has a curtain made of light, airy fabric, providing privacy while allowing the occupants to feel connected to the room.

• the decor includes tapestries and rugs featuring scenes of forests, wildlife, and the moon. the cabin is filled with plants, flowers, and small potted trees, making it feel like an extension of the forest outside.

• each hunter has a personal space to store their gear. this includes a rack for bows and quivers, hooks for coats, and shelves for other hunting equipment.

• the central hearth is always burning with a controlled, magical flame that provides warmth and light. it's surrounded by comfortable seating made of logs and animal pelts, perfect for gathering and sharing stories.

• a section of the cabin is dedicated to practicing archery and other skills. it includes targets, dummies, and plenty of space for physical training.

• one corner of the cabin has shelves filled with books about nature, wildlife, and mythology, along with maps of various hunting grounds and sacred sites.

cabin traditions

• they have an annual remembrance day on the first full moon of june where they honor the fallen hunters of that year. artemis always ensures that there is a beautiful strawberry moon lighting up the sky.

• when they visit camp half-blood, they to have archery contests with the apollo kids (and other kids that have archery skills). they share their advanced skills and techniques, often leading to informal training sessions where the campers learn new tips and tricks from them.

• they hold special training sessions particularly focused on survival skills, hunting tactics, and self-defense. these sessions are a blend of physical training and imparting the wisdom of living harmoniously with nature.

• the hunters hold workshops on making traditional hunting gear, such as bows and arrows, and other crafts related to their way of life. these workshops are hands-on and give campers a tangible connection to the hunters' lifestyle.

divider by @strangergraphics

[ashoss]

"#apollo gets duke next trust#apollo shut up challenge: impossible#duke thomas the meta with light powers#so what he’s already got a canon god for a dad

apollo already got babs and then when duke comes around hes like "hey another bat stealing my schtick ?????""

no pls this is so funny, apollo who doesn't have any demigod kids who are in the batfamily and yet for some reason??? these bats keep stealing his schtick??? why do they keep doing this?? you accidentally maybe sorta start a war between greek and roman demigods and get turned into a mortal for 6 months as punishment, and when you get back, suddenly everyone and their mother in this weird little city in new jersey is stealing your bit. what's up with that?

i think it'd be really funny if apollo got attached to the batfamily but like in the weird annoying neighbor kind of way. like he just shows up like randomly to hang out or is like "if you wanted my attention, you could have just asked~" and the bats are looking at each other like, "we didn't". dark and gritty gotham city is not AT ALL his normal vibe, like he looks so out of place, and yet HERE HE IS *jazz hands*

LMAOO YESS

apollo has NO blood connection to any of the batfam members but in some way he likes them all. the .... weird neighbor is soo funny i lovev it so much.

[venusphoriia]

header image by Yunii from Amino !!

୨୧ ; ❛ percy jackson ❜

⤷ Clarisse La Rue

— The Second Act , loving you is her greatest weakness, but also her greatest desire.

— Drunken Tears and Soft Confessions , you drink away the pain, hoping it will eventually fill the void. It never does.

— Lovesick Denial , jealousy and denial, not really a good combo, is it?

— Maybe in Another Life , she honestly would’ve loved you.

୨୧ ; ❛ obey me ❜

⤷ Lucifer, Sin of Pride

— His Morning Star , obey me! yandere scenarios.

⤷ Mammon, Sin of Greed

— 0:53 am , in which you are finally reunited with your long lost lover.

୨୧ ; ❛ twisted wonderland ❜

⤷ Leona Kingscholar

— 2:43 am , in which, leona grows infatuated with you after a one night stand.

part ii

୨୧ ; ❛ dc comics ❜

⤷ Diana Prince (Wonder Woman)

— The Pain of Loving You , in the grief of losing one, she also lost you.

[money-and-dandellions]

So, Lester really is okay with himself dying huh.

He also admitted that Meg is like a bratty little sister to him.

Meg did too.

Admit that he is less annoying and did good and that she cares about him; she really does, she knows it.

[hanahaki-disease]

Beyond the Farthest Reaches

Hell or High Water - Percy Jackson/DC crossover

“The Line that Separates Us”

Summary:

Even gods are bound by law.

Set After “Driven by a Holy Force” (a future upload that can be enjoyed without spoilers)

*******************************

“Hello Bruce,” Diana smiled and gave him a hug upon their greeting. He wasn’t much of a tactile person, reserving his physical affection for his children or his lovers, but Diana was a warrior goddess and Bruce was a mortal. He simply let her do as she pleases. “It has been a while since I’ve visited the children, how are they?”

“They are well,” He led her through the manor to one of the many sitting rooms, this one was tucked away in one of the far corners of the manor. Some of the furniture still has dust covers over them and the air in the room was stale from no circulation. And he would chose a more used place to converse, those were more susceptible to listening ears.

“Hopefully I will able to see them after our conversation,” Diana sunk into one of the old couches. “I can tell that this isn’t just a social conversation, is it?” He shook his head. “I thought so, go ahead, speak.”

Bruce paused for a moment, shuffling through the questions in his head to determine which one should be first. “Did you know my sons were demigods?”

She nodded and took a sip of tea. “I knew your sons were children of the gods the moment I met them, I could feel their power challenging mine in a way I had not felt since I lived on Themyscira. Who their parents were, I do not know, but regardless,—” she set her cup down. “Had I told you who there were all those years ago, they would have been in danger that could have been easily avoided.”

“Explain.”

“Demigods live normal mortal lives until the age of twelve or thirteen, that’s when the powers their godly parent passed on to them begins to develop more rapidly causing a shift in their scent. It varies on the god mostly, but the stronger the god, the stronger the scent, even before the reach that age.” She said. “Once a demigod realizes their heritage, their scent grown stronger. It attracts monsters, and without the proper training, they could be killed.” Bruce opened his mouth. “And before you ask: no, mortal weapons cannot harm or kill the monsters. They are deemed unworthy and lesser than them, only celestial bronze can hurt them.”

Bruce absorbed the information for a second. Percy had told him this the other night, though not as detailed as he would have liked. He had sat them all down and told him what had been happening to him the past three four years and what was going to happen next summer.

“If you were aware of his status as a demigod, why could you not have helped him on his ‘quests?’ Couldn’t you have gone with him to ensure his safety?” Bruce questioned.

“If I was allowed to help him, Bruce, do you think he would have that many scars on him? If I was allowed, do you think he would have lost his brother? His friends? Do you think I would have let him or his friend hold the weight of the sky as they fought a titan?” Diana snapped at him.

“By the gods, I wish I could aid him, wish I could enter the camp they stay at to help them train for the fight against Kronos, but I cannot!” Tears began to well up in her eyes and Bruce dropped his head in his hand. She was just as helpless as he was, wanting to go and protect them all, protect Percy, but they couldn’t. He was in a world they just could not enter. “And I love them Bruce, they are more than simple nephews to me, and it pains me as much as it does you that I am useless in helping Perseus, in helping Jason.”

“But I don’t understand why you could not tell me who they were. I’m their father, my job is to protect them!”

“You cannot protect them Bruce! This life, the life of gods and monsters and all the things I face, what Perseus faces, you cannot help.” Diana moved to sit beside him. “I know they are your children. I know you will stop at nothing to keep them as safe as they can be, but Apollo strike me should I lie when I say that you and I simply cannot aid him in the way we want.

“The life of a demigod is difficult, it is dangerous, and most often they die far too soon.” Diana cried. “We can help as much as we can when he returns from his quests, train him as best as we can, teach him as much as we can, but in the end we are meant to stand behind him as he rises to his glory.”

“What about Jason? He’s a demigod too, isn’t he? Why hasn’t he been attacked by monsters or sent to that camp Percy goes to?” Bruce stands form his seat, pacing in the light of the window. “What makes one child different than the other?”

“The difference is the prophecy and who the fates deemed worthy to take on that burden.” She answered. “It is also because of the oath the sons of Kronos had taken.”

“Percy told me about that before, but I don’t understand it. It is just a simple oath.”

She shook her head. “To swear on the Styx is to swear on your very existence, and to break that oath, the consequences are dire and extreme.”

Bruce stopped his pacing. “If Jason is believed to be a son of Poseidon as well, then his death is most likely influenced by the Styx. The same of Perseus becoming the prophecy child and the death of their mother.”

“A god cannot be punished so it falls onto the others.” Diana wiped her tears on one of the napkins. “It falls on the mother for temping the god twice. Punishes the sons for the sins of the father.”

“So the death of my son and the sanity of the other are sacrificed because the god that fathered them cannot be punished?” she nodded and Bruce felt like punching the wall.

He could feel his anger rising within him. A fire that burned in the pit of his stomach and channeled through his veins till in reached his hands. He knows his anger isn’t with Diana for she was held back like him, helpless against the cosmic forces that kept Percy and Jason an arm’s length away. His anger, his rage, the wrath he hasn’t felt since the death of his parents, was all for the sea god who forced his sons to live a life of pain and anguish.

Bruce has fought gods. Bruce has battled against beings as old as time and stronger than any earthly deity. He wonders if Diana could arrange a meeting between him and their father.

“So what can I do? How can I help Percy with all of this?” Bruce asked.

“You provide him with a home, remind him of his humanity,” Diana answered and gathered her things, making her way to the door. “You show him he is loved.”

*******************************

TLDR; Diana, as a minor maiden goddess of war, cannot interfere with quests/prophecies since it’s against divine law. The olympians were being very generous by letting her interact with Percy becuase a) if you hurt Percy, you anger Poseidon, and no one wants that, and b) she’s Zeus’s kid. Special privileges and all that.

So yeah…basically

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

[heavensincarnate1111]

my son and daughter (who just so happen to be twins) are gonna be sooo mad when i name them apollo and artemis

[holy-obsession-batman]

Politics hc for dc x pjo crossover

so this is more hc for the prompt I posted here

Themiscira

Themiscira’s Amazons can see through the Mist and they fight their share of monsters

Hylla’s Amazons are like another version of the Amazons powered by the myth like the Roman versions is different from the Greek gods

They keep mostly separate because of Fate bullshit—the Amazons aren’t demigods so they can’t choose not to follow the magic rules

(Even Diana, she’s animated magic clay, and Donna is her childhood-playmate-magic-clone, so not ‘halfbloods’)

Why Cassie Sandsmark didn’t go to CHB:

Now Cassie is an actual demigoddess.

But she became Wonder Girl right after getting her powers, before even knowing she was Zeus’ daughter

so the gods pretty much pretend she’s just a part of Themiscira’s sphere, Cassie herself doesn’t know of the Camps and the other demigods, because:

1) she’s in the spotlight as a member of the hero community, so she risks attracting the JL’s attention on the Camps (like a few magicians vaguely know of them but that’s all), and if they learn of it the heavy hitters of the JL can and will confront the Pantheon about it (the JL got too thoroughly Bat-magic-proofed to be fooled by a quick Mist trick)

2) Cassie’s existence is an infraction to the Oath of the Big Three, so it’s more convenient to pretend as if she doesn’t exist, to keep peace (while banking on heroing statistics so that she dies before accomplishing the Great Prophecy)

next part: Grayson kid at Camp Half Blood

[audreyscribes]

PJO ROMAN DEMIGOD HUNTRESS HEADCANONS:🌕 DIANA: GODDESS OF THE HUNT, MOON, WOODLANDS, AND CHILDBIRTH 🏹

Author’s Note: Diana following right after Apollo here we goooo. This one is going to be very similar to the Artemis headcanons but there are some twists after I did some research on Diana and made some conclusions. The Huntresses are going to eat good today! ROMAN DEMIGODS H/CS MASTERLIST LINKS: [TUMBLR] // [AO3]

Alright, unlike Apollo, there are some differences that Diana has with Artemis. For one thing, Diana is considered a triple deity; a deity with three forms that function as an entire whole, with Diana merged with Luna/Selene, and the underworld, Hecate. (this also applies vise-versa with Hecate’s roman aspect, Trivia), so Diana is witchcraft associated with not only Hecate, but also Nyx, and Erebeus.

So when the Huntresses of Diana and Artemis merge, the latter have a bit of an adjustment to get used to. While they both serve the same goddess with the same values and oaths, and in turn there’s less of a conflict compared to the Greeks and Roman merge, it’s still something to get used to.

So with Diana being a goddess of crossroads (kinda), you often find promising hunteress or those seeking Diana/Artemis’ help at crossroads, if not looking for Hecate/Trivia.

While Diana and Artemis are two separate beings, sort of, it’s not as severe when among her huntresses. She’s not as coherent like Apollo, but it’s something.

As huntresses, magic is more of an applied skill now. There was always magical elements when you hunt, but its very everyday with your parkas, your tents, and the like, with Diana, it’s more incorporated. Using and chanting spells, bestowing blesses and curses, and healing and hurting are part of your skills as much as tracking and your archery skills.

Speaking of magic, you’ll find yourself in more contact with more diverse people. Not just magical folk, but also those who respect and pray to Diana, Hecate, among other gods. Those who practise Wicca are one of  those among those folks, and they are often times happy to invite your goddess and the hunters into their home and allowing you brief hospitality. In times, they’ve also helped when required and in turn often alert you and the huntresses of any dangers or evils they have seen.

Since Diana is considered a triple deity, associated with other gods like Hecate, Nyx, Erebus, and Selene/Luna, as part of the practice, the hunteress observe moon viewing parties or participate in nightly rituals. What those rituals are exactly no one knows except for a true hunteress of Diana/Artemis, but what I can tell you is that it involves the moon, its phases, offerings. I’ve said too much but only the night and moon knows. Don’t pry or let anyone uninvited know; the wild forest is already dangerous but now its a magical, wild forest; if you’re not careful, you’ll be lucky to just get lost or be turned into a deer. 

[mediumgayitalian]

part one

———

Finding parking is, as expected, hard, largely in part because Michael wants to get them all killed.

“— yeah, that’s right, shitwad! Back off! We were here —”

“Will you please shut the fuck up,” Lee hisses, jamming the switch for Michael’s window. Unfortunately, Michael is sticking his fucking head out of it, so it won’t close.

“This fucking guy! This fucking guy thinks he can swoop up to our spot —”

“Motherfucker we’re in Wilmington, do you want to get fucking shot —”

“He can wait his godsdamn turn like everybody else! Hey, fucker —”

He succeeds, finally, in yanking his brother back in by the scruff of his neck and speeding away from the shitwad in question.

“I can’t believe you let him walk all over us!”

“If I end up with a bullet hole through my windshield, I am kicking your ass, Michael. I won’t need to worry about some trigger happy mortal taking you out. I’ll kill you.”

“Drama queen. Now we’re never gonna find a damn spot.”

They do, in fact, find a damn spot. Within forty-three seconds of Michael saying that, actually, Will points out not just a parking spot but a pull-through, which Lee takes, smirking. Michael aims a kick for his knee.

“Go help Will unbuckle, you bitter bitch. I gotta grab something.”

Ignoring both Michael’s grumbling and Will’s insistence that he can unbuckle himself, thank you very much, Lee jogs over to the trunk. He grabs his and Michael’s bows, just in case, and carefully grabs the bundle of roses he bought from the stand across from his apartment. The stems are a little crushed, but the flowers all seem fine, full and bright, sunny yellow. Even the paper is relatively uncrinkled, folding delicately around the thorny leaves.

Michael nods when he sees them. “Nice.”

“Thanks.” Lee tosses him his bow, slinging his own over his back. It flickers with his quiver under the Mist, settling eventually to look like a small backpack. “Got ‘em this morning.”

“Can I hold them?” Will asks.

“Sure, kiddo.”

He lays them gently in his arms, the same way Cass has taught him to bundle herbs and plants when they gather for poultices. Every step is suddenly much more deliberate, avoiding potholes and cracks in the pavement so he doesn’t trip and crush them under his body. When he nearly walks in front of a car, not paying attention, Michael plants a hand on his head, guiding him around like a claw machine.

“Okay,” Lee says, holding open the door. “Let’s find Diana.”

The lobby is crowded. There are people everywhere — families, grandparents, and of course dozens of dancers, shining hair pieces glinting in the low lights, tutus and rhinestones peeking out of studio sweatsuits. Faces heavy with stage makeup bleed into each other. The building is abuzz with sound, chatter and laughter and shouting and twenty different songs playing at once. Lee can hardly believe they’re all fitting in the same building, and almost convinces himself it’s actually enchanted, smaller on the outside. He glances down when Will backs into him, flowers clutched tighter to his chest, and rests a firm hand on his shoulder. He hooks his finger around Michael’s hoodie, too, and for once he doesn’t complain.

“You see her?” he shouts over the noise. Or, well, Lee’s pretty sure that’s what he said. He shakes his head, anyway, and Michael scowls, standing uselessly on his tiptoes. Even if that didn’t put him just barely over most people’s shoulders, the throng of people is too thick to see much. People elbow and push each other around to meet up with family members, and groups of dancers do their best to practice their routines in what limited space is available. Lee has felt less claustrophobic in Times Square at Christmas.

In a stroke of brilliance, in his very humble opinion, he lets go of Will’s shoulder, puts both hands under his arms, and hauls him over his head, settling him on his shoulders.

“Keep an eye out,” he shouts.

Will grins, tugging on Lee’s hair with his free hand in confirmation.

One hand clamped over Will’s knees, the other still hooked on Michael’s hoodie, Lee starts to wade through the crowd. He can start to see, as he gets farther from the door, the entrance to the stage, the ticket stands, the coat check. Several banners hang temporarily from the ceiling and stick to doorways, welcoming them all to the Twenty-Sixth Annual Believe Dance Comp!, and a table laden with trophies sits proudly by the stage doors.

Sitting under one of the banners, Lee notices a group of girls of varying ages, all wearing the green and purple Stage Lights Dance Academy Cass sometimes wears. He guides them closer, scanning each stage makeup-ed face to try and find his sister, but stops short before he gets too close.

Two girls, sitting at the head of the group, mime twisting their hair, exaggeratedly anxious looks on their faces. The rest of the girls roar with laughter.

Lee feels something heavy settle in his stomach.

“You think anyone will come for her?” a younger girl asks, hushed so that Lee can barely hear her over the crowd.

One of the older girls snorts. “Are you kidding? The only way her mom will come is if there’s an open bar!”

Lee is reminded of the one and only time he’d fought a group of empousai. There’d been a trio of them a Central Park, on a field trip he’d gone on with his ninth grade class, surrounding one of the oak dryads. They’d crooned at her, tugging on her leafy hair and trailing clawed fingers down her handmade dress, calling out backhanded compliments. But Lee’s skin felt like it was crawling, he remembers, and the dryad had been tense, green tears building in her eyes. Every bleat of their laughter had grated his ears, and he’d snapped, eventually, ripping off his bow and picking them off one by one. The third one had seen him, chasing him away from his group, but he’d been so mad that he wasn’t even scared. The dryad hadn’t done anything. They got nothing from poking at her. They’d just done it to be cruel, because it was fun for them.

“I don’t even know why she has the gall to show up. She missed the final practice.”

“Miss Breanna likes her, that’s why,” one of the girls scoffs. “Of course she can skiff off practice and still compete. She thinks she’s so much better than us.”

Michael shifts forward. Lee throws out an arm to stop him, shooting him a warning look.

“You think anyone’ll take your side?” he murmurs.

“They’re talking about —!”

“I know, Michael.”

“They can’t talk about her like that!”

“I know, Michael.” He forces his jaw to unclench. “I know.”

“Yeah, well, favourite or not,” another dancer says wickedly, “her seats will be empty again. And she’ll walk out empty-handed and alone, like she always does.”

Most of the adults milling about the lobby hold flowers, like they do. Except unlike them, their bouquets are large, unlike them the stems are not crushed, unlike them they are wrapped in ribbons, in embroidered banners. One is, even, shaped as a ballet slipper, and Lee notices the oldest girl in the group, the one who made the joke about Cass’s mother, eyeing it, smirking.

He pictures Cass holding it next to all the other girls from her studio. With their big, normal families, their wide smiles, their fancy cameras, their beautiful, expensive bouquets. Pictures the smirks that will be sent her way, the whispers. They can’t — gods, what was he thinking?

“What time is it?” he asks.

Michael glances at his watch. “Quarter to.”

“Hm.”

In her frantic IM, yesterday, Diana had ordered them to be here by noon. From what little he knows about dance competitions, Cass’s performance will be sometime after that, nestled among the many. When exactly, he doesn’t know.

If they leave now, wagering, they could miss it. And that would be the worst thing of them all. But…

“Will,” he says, suddenly getting an idea. “C’mere.”

He reaches up and sets Will back on the ground, clutching his hand as he weaves through the crowd, beelining for the far corner. He stops at a sign with a little stick person on it, gently taking the flowers from Will’s hold and passing them back to Michael.

“Listen to me carefully.” He crouches to Will’s level, meeting his eyes. “Diana is — somewhere, in there, getting Cass ready. Michael and I can’t go in there. We need you to go in and act really confused.”

“That will be very easy, because I am confused,” Will protests. “Why do I have to go in there? I don’t even really know why we’re here!”

“Just — go in,” Lee insists. “Trust me. If I give you more instructions, it’ll ruin it.”

Huffing, Will goes.

“Brilliant,” Michael mutters. “Lose the kid and Diana. Great plan, Lee.”

“Come on, does no one trust me?”

“No one knows what you’re doing, dude! You hang around Carter for five minutes and suddenly you think you’re Mr. Plan Guy —”

Lee flushes. “That is not what this is about!”

“I am not missing this! I swear Lee, if we’re late —”

“We’re not gonna be late!”

“Why is it that every boy on Earth is actually stupid,” hisses a new voice. The change room door busts open, damn near cracking under the heel of a heavy boot, and Diana comes striding out behind it, Will perched on her hip. Her short dark hair sticks out in every which way, shoulders tense as a line, mouth twisted in a scowl. Immediately, Lee and Michael snap their mouths shut.

“Hey,” Will complains, pouting.

She adjusts her hold on him, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Not you, sweetpea. Only Thing One and Thing Two, over here.” She glares at them. “Why did I find him wandering around in the change room? I told you to wait for me in the lobby! I swear you two want to — ruin this!”

“Hey,” Lee says, flinching back. “You know we don’t, Diana. That’s not fair.”

She scrubs a hand down her face, sighing. “I know. I know. I’m sorry. It’s just —” She presses another kiss to Will’s cheek and sets him down, leaning on the doorframe. “It’s been a rough morning. She keeps trying to call her mom, and — well.”

Lee hates that those girls were right. He hates it. He hates that they’ve been right before, that Cass has walked off the stage, face blank, alone. Hearing their giggling, probably. Twisting her hair around her fingers as she tries to hold it together.

His jaw tightens.

Not this fucking time.

“What time is Cass on?” he asks

“…Her solo at one-thirty,” Diana says. “But —”

“Great.” Lee grabs each brother’s shoulder, pulling them back. “We won’t be late, Diana, I promise.”

“Wait! Lee — dude, what are you —”

“We’ll meet you inside! Save us seats!”

“Lee! Get back here!”

“Seats!” Lee calls, glancing back. He makes a vague gesture in return to her incredulous, spread-wide hands, trying to convey the Situation. “We won’t be late! Promise!”

“I’ll kill you if you are!” she relents. “Be fucking back on time!”

———

In hindsight, it would have been smarter to take the car.

For whatever reason, both Lee and Michael assumed there would be a flower stand just outside the theatre. Neither of them had seen one on the way in, but it made sense. If Lee had a flower business, he’d probably put it next to a theatre. Where else would you put it?

Regardless, there isn’t anything close across the street, or even on the whole block. Will sits on his shoulders again, because it’s easier than trying to guide him, and every so often he glances at the watch Beckendorf made him, calling out the time.

“Will,” Lee begs, veering around a street corner, “you are not helping.”

“I am so!” He checks his watch again. “Twenty-seven minutes ‘til Cass starts. That’s why we’re here, right? To watch Cass dance?”

“So long as we make it in time,” Michael stresses. “Shit, Lee, maybe we should just head back. The flowers we have are fine —”

“Cass deserves more than fine.”

Michael snaps his mouth shut. “I know that.”

Lee slumps. “I — know you know. Sorry.”

Their steps fall in synch, footsteps making level prints in the light dusting of snow. On occasion a passing car drowns them out, but for the most part the only sound is their breathing, and Will picking at his nails. The shifting of their jackets.

“You’ll never undo it, Lee.” The road cross button makes a heavy click noise under Michael’s fist. The countdown for the walking man is loud, four, three, two, one. Three of the little lights are broken, making it look like its chest is cracked open. “There’s some shit you just can’t fix.”

“I’m not trying to — fix her,” he argues weakly. “I’m just…”

He can’t push away the horrible ache in his chest. The rapidly expanding feeling, the sinking chasm of expecting and hoping and being disappointed. Of looking out into the crowd to find a familiar face and not finding one. Of hearing giggles as you walk past and clenching your teeth, knowing. It balloons, pushing out on his ribcage, forcing its way up his throat.

Michael stops, arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowed. Lee stares at a spot at the air above his shoulder, swallowing roughly, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood.

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“You are, Lee. You think competing with those assholes is gonna — go back? Gonna magically bring her fucking — hell, bring Dad?”

Lee looks away. “Of course not.”

“We’re going to be there. That’s what matters, isn’t it? That’s what’s really important.”

“Oh, to hell with high horses, Michael. I’m fucking tired of — of pretending it’s okay!” He starts forward again, ignoring the twinge of pain in his skull when Will grips his hair, yelping at the sudden surge forward. Michael jogs to keep up. “It’s — fight these monsters, train these kids, lead your cabin. Ignore the fact that your dad couldn’t be assed to visit a few times a year, he’s an Olympian, after all, you understand. Well, I’m tired of it! I’m tired of —” he trips over a crack in the sidewalk, barely catching himself — “I’m tired of being so damn understanding!”

For a moment Michael says nothing. Lee’s breathing is heavy, shakey, and it takes effort to still the tremble in his hands.

“The girl,” Michael says eventually. “The prissy one, who sat closer to the door.”

“…What about her?”

“I just.” He chews at his bottom lip. “I’m not saying I disagree with you, dude, but you have issues, dude, and shit you need to work out. For real. Besides just —” he gestures broadly at the mostly empty street — “ranting into the air.” Slowly, a smirk spreads across his face. “It would be really, really funny to see her face if Cass walks out with a bouquet three times the size of hers, wouldn’t it.”

Lee matches his grin. “It would be.”

“Betcha she’d seethe.”

“Probably turn purple.”

They turn to each other, finally back in synch.

“Nineteen minutes,” Will pipes up.

Lee startles. He checks his own watch. “Oh, shit. Let’s go.”

———

part three

[wanderingmind867]

Medea is creepy. And just like Circe in the first Percy Jackson series, I think Medea should be a Wonder Woman antagonist. Because they're sort of opposites (at least, I view them as opposites). While Wonder Woman and the Amazons isolated themselves from men because men oppressed them and hurt them, the amazons don't bear any ill will towards men as a whole. Due to Wonder Woman opening them back up to the public, they've learned to respect man's world.

But Medea and Circe…they mess with men and perpetrate a rivalry between genders that shouldn't even exist. Circe turning men into animals merely gives men a reason to hate Circe and distrust women, and that would lead to a repeating cycle of violence and prejudice that benefits absolutely nobody. So I think Wonder Woman should fight more characters like Circe and Medea. Also, I think Circe and Medea deserve to meet Doctor Psycho. Because they're both seeming radicals on the gender superiority scale, and i don't know if they'd cooperate reluctantly or if they'd tear each other's heads off.

I don't know if i mentioned this before, but me being a very fetishistic person can make these feelings worse too. Because i have a weird complex where i hate seeing fetishistic things in my media, unless i go deliberately looking for them. But since school is in a few hours, i don't have time to get into all of this.

[emmaitoshi]

currently thinking abt how wonder woman technically couldve gone to camp half-blood, icon behaviour