#This also makes me think about Grover's thoughts when Percy turned down immortality. At this point the fact that they will fall apart from | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

roseunspindle · 2 years

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The New Gods

Zues goes too far, his incessant need to ignore everything until almost too late, his “I make the rules, even when I don’t but am not going to abide by them myself”. It comes to a head, when many new children at both camps, often the unclaimed ones, but even some who are, start making offerings to Percy. It’s slow of course but increases over time. Percy complains to Grover first, about the weird buzzing in his head...and sometimes he ends up going to help out a nymph or naiad or demigod that he doesn’t know how he knows about.

It’s Annabeth who sees it though during a study/make-out session and freaks out. His veins have begun to glow. They do a cut test (via literally just cutting Percy) first attempting it with a regular knife (just to check) and when that won’t work they use a celestial bronze dagger. There is a little red still in his blood, but the golden ichor is fast taking over.

A very, very panicked call (Iris takes it at lightning speed) to his father and then a very fast pick-up via shadow travel courtesy of Nico has Percy at camp half-blood, being stared at much to closely by Mr. D.

“Hmmm”. Is the wine gods first (unhelpful) statement. (turns out yep, percy is becoming a god, via his own power and the prayers and sacrifices of the ones to whom he has already become who they pray to)

Apollo, who had come down to visit his kids admits that he had slightly gotten used to sending some “thoughts” to Percy during his human time and may have continued later, partly a “what would percy do” and also “percy what do I do” which the universe had apparently opted to also interpret as prayers.

Hestia is next, appearing in the hearth and warns that Zeus has found out.

A war does not come, but a dethronement does, as Zeus has faded greatly in pretty much everyone’s eyes, his children were dead or dedicated to another god, he could barely remember them, his ignoring of all, Hera’s kidnapping and memory erasing and her “family values” had also stunted her, and prevented people from praying to her.

(annabeth does not want to be an immortal and so she and percy sadly part)

Percy banishes Zues (now the god of infidelity and broken oaths and faith) to the same island Heracles is on. Hera simply retreats, now the goddess of “traditional marriage and perfect family” it does not make her happy.

Percy makes it a rule now, that each god will serve a summer as camp director at each camp, himself included.

Camp-halfblood is nervous at first, particularly Ares and Athena as what will happen to their cabins? Turns out all it is, is that they move to the end with the newer minor gods cabins as space empties for the new cabins of new gods. Zues and Hera’s cabins aren’t destroyed, again just moved, though they become much smaller and zues’s has a lot more beds in it now. Ready for the large flood of demigods sure to come.

As powers rose and settled, a new order came.

King of the Gods (Lord of the Sky (every time he flies, he thinks of Jason)) god of demigods, god of loyalty, god of divine oaths, riptides, fault lines, compassion, responsibility) - Percy (you can’t be the king of the gods and still be “percy”... “watch me”

Queen of the Gods - Hestia, Goddess of the hearth and home, hope, family and marriage (it is a new dawn and home and hearth are important things now, and Hestia is done with being an eternal celibate)

God of the Underworld - Hades (Hades is, pleased by this change as Percy sees no reason to not let him have a place and say on the council and doesn’t look down on him, it’s annoying that it’s a literal teenager who take the throne but you can’t have everything)

God of the Sea - Poseidon (look, he hadn’t been sure his kid would live past 12, now he gets to enjoy his domain, enjoy at least being the father of the king of the gods)

God of Wine and Madness - Dionysus (it is entirely possible he will actually call Percy by his correct name now. Maybe.)

God of the Sun (etc.) - Apollo (pouted that he didn’t get to be percy’s “queen” to which percy had to roll his eyes a lot.

Goddess of the Moon - Artemis (she’s happy as percy made going after he huntresses and actual olympus level crime, (well going after anyone who said no)

Messenger God - Hermes

God of War - Frank (his extra power gave him a boost to deification, and the overall thought of war had changed from Ares bloody minded self important violence, to a “I will fight if I must, I will kill if I must, but there is no glory in it” Ares still was a god of (his kind) of war but he’s not THE god of war anymore. Frank is a bit upset as he tried to point out he was roman, and percy was like “dude I really don’t think it matters”

Smith God - Hephastus

Goddess of Love - Aphrodite (aphrodite thinks this is a new an exciting chapter in percy’s love story and hestia is part of it, delightful!) Also Ares has more time to spend with her now that he’s been demoted.

Goddess of Wisdom - Reyna (Athena abdicated her throne, feeling she belonged to Zues’s era of the council) (Athena had thought another goddess or something would gain her domains, only instead the instant she renounced her role, Reyna got to go zipping into abrupt goddess hood to her shock and annoyance)

Goddess of the Harvest - Demeter (she brarely reacted to the change, now ranting at percy about humans instead of Zues. She is happier though, as Percy has actually begun to do something, not wipe them all out, but at least he actually listens to her (even if he doesn’t get enough grains)

God of the Wild - Grover (he gets a power boost via Percy’s ascension and becomes a genuine god of the wild and percy just opts to add a 14th throne to olympus to Grovers embarrassed delight and horror)

Goddess of Wealth and Magic - Hades gives Hazel his more roman domain, so as to prevent her from being separated from Frank and Hecate, still smarting from being defeated in the titan war, looses her place as goddess of magic to Hazel) (percy added the 15th throne so that they could always hope have a tie breaker vote (his)

#new gods #percy jackson #kind fic thing #fanfic

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wasithard · 4 years

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Percy wakes up on his seventeenth birthday in his own bed.

One year ago today, he’d woken up in a room at the Plaza Hotel from a vision of the Titan Lord Kronos planning his attack on Manhattan. One year ago today, he’d woken up in the middle of a war – and that’s not even the most recent war he’s fought.

Percy wakes up on his seventeenth birthday and immediately goes back to sleep.

His day goes like this: waking again to blue pancakes and waffles and eating them with his mom and Paul. Having a picnic lunch with Annabeth and Grover in Central Park, then driving with them to camp for dinner and a bonfire with their friends. Roasting marshmallows and singing songs and kissing Annabeth by the fire. Getting too lost in the way the firelight tinges her grey eyes red to notice the rest of the campers gathering around them before they pick them up and throw them in the lake, just like last year. Sitting around the dying embers of the fire, remembering the friends they lost in the war that ended one year ago today, the heavy silence of that moment burying itself in the middle of his chest, sitting there like a weight. Going to bed in his cabin, Tyson snoring in the bunk above him, wishing the love he’d felt from his friends that day would be enough to silence the voices in his head yelling it should’ve been me.

Percy wakes up on his nineteenth birthday, three years after the war.

He wakes up and wonders if he’ll ever stop thinking of it as the anniversary of the war instead of a celebration for another year he’s lived, or another year he’s spent with Annabeth.

Annabeth, who’s living on campus in the city they almost gave their lives defending three years ago now and comes over for breakfast that morning with Sally and Paul. He’s sitting at the table with them all, laughing and grateful to have them, but wondering if he should be worried that it’s been three years and he still wakes up on August 18th with a tightness in his chest at the thought of getting another year older than his friends who will never see another day. He knows they’re in Elysium. The thought should bring him peace.

Breakfast trickles into the afternoon and he and Annabeth go for a walk in Central Park before driving up to Camp. On the way there, Percy takes a detour to a small beach he’d scouted out a few weeks before and surprises his girlfriend with a picnic on the sand. He helps her build a sandcastle that’s almost taller than he is, holding the waves back so that they can use the hard, wet sand near the shoreline to make their castle stronger.

By the time they get to Camp they both smell of salt and seaweed and his spirits are high. It makes it worse, somehow, when they have their annual memorial to those they lost three years ago that he’s had such a nice day so far. Annabeth notices his change in mood, presses a kiss to his shoulder as she entwines their fingers.

After the campers start to trickle off to bed, Chiron catches his eye and Percy follows him to the Big House. They are sitting on the balcony, crickets chirping around them and a glass of cool blue Coke in Percy’s hand when Chiron fixes him with a stare that has seen countless tragedies and asks him if he still blames himself for being alive.

It’s jarring to hear someone so bluntly say out loud the thoughts he hasn’t dared to speak for so long. He swallows, can’t bring himself to hold Chiron’s gaze so flicks his eyes down to his feet instead, the only part of his body that doesn’t feel like it’s shaking. His fingers clench around the clear glass in his hand and he watches beads of water slide down the outside of it. Chiron doesn’t speak, but the silence is heavy and Percy feels like it’ll suffocate him if he doesn’t break it.

“I don’t– ” he clears his throat. It sounds too thick. “I don’t blame myself.”

He takes a sip of his Coke, swallowing it completely. “I don’t blame myself. I just don’t understand…”

He doesn’t want to finish the sentence, doesn’t want to say the words, I don’t understand why it wasn’t me, but when his eyes meet Chiron’s again he knows the centaur understands. How many other heroes has he seen feel the same way? Does he feel the same way?

“Percy,” Chiron says, his voice steady and deep with thousands of years of wisdom and loss and hope. “You help no one by holding on to guilt that isn’t yours.”

Percy exhales roughly, running a hand through his hair. In his head, he understands this. He just doesn’t believe it. If he had been a little bit better, in any sense of the word: faster, stronger, smarter. Maybe Charles wouldn’t have gotten caught in the engine room of the Princess Andromeda. Maybe Michael wouldn’t have been caught in the earthquake Percy had caused on the Williamsburg Bridge. Maybe Clarisse could have been convinced to fight in the war earlier, so Silena wouldn’t have had to impersonate her.

“Percy.” Chiron repeats, voice firmer. “You might be a hero, but you are also a person. And all a person can ever do is their best.”

Percy closes his eyes, bows his head. Chiron continues speaking. “The gods have done wonderful things, but they have also made many, many mistakes. More and far more devastating mistakes than the ones you have made in your short life. The benefit and curse of immortality is seeing how the actions of a moment can fade over time. How they can be made up for when a similar situation arises in the future. How it is not one’s past that defines them, but how they learn from it.”

Percy doesn’t want to look up at Chiron now, because there are tears in his eyes and it’s embarrassing, frankly. But he owes it to him.

He looks up. Chiron’s gaze is as steady as before, and Percy exhales one more time, releasing air all the way down to his belly. One tear slips down the side of his face and stops at his upper lip. He licks it away, using a hand to wipe his eyes as he turns his face to the now quiet camp. He can see the volleyball court, the rock climbing wall, the smoking embers of the campfire and the beginning of the circle of cabins. He sees his home: safe, intact. Filled with his friends, the survivors. He breathes it in.

“Thanks, Chiron.” He says, turning back to the centaur who gives him a soft, understanding smile in return.

Percy finishes off his drink and leaves the empty glass on the same wooden table he saw Chiron and Dionysus playing pinochle at when he first arrived at Camp, all those years ago. He stands up, wishes Chiron goodnight and starts walking back to the cabins.

Cabin 3 stands there: dark, alone and familiar. He feels tiredness tug at his eyelids and muscles but inside he still feels too wired to lay down just yet. He heads for the beach.

Annabeth is already there. Her legs are bent in front of her, arms tucked underneath them and chin resting on her knees. He sits silently beside her and they stay there, no sound between them except the gentle crash of the waves on the shore. After a few minutes she leans her head against his shoulder and he rests his atop hers, closes his eyes.

“Do you remember when we were in the Sea of Monsters and I wanted to hear the Sirens?” Annabeth asks, voice quiet. “I would’ve killed myself on those rocks swimming to their island but you dove into the ocean and pulled me out of their range, even though I was kicking and screaming at you to stop. We were thirteen.

“And remember in Mount St. Helen’s? I know you didn’t have a plan, but you made me get out anyway. You made sure that I was safe before even thinking about how you would survive.”

He feels her weight leave his shoulder then, glances over to see her sitting up and turning towards him, crossing her legs under her. The light of the full moon washes her in an ethereal glow, and her eyes are gleaming wide and bright as they lock onto his, pinning him in place. Annabeth is always beautiful, but when she’s determined – whether in battle or in convincing her boyfriend that he doesn’t deserve the pain he inflicts on himself – she has a face that could launch a thousand ships.

“And in Rome,” she says, her voice catching. “You wouldn’t let me face Tartarus unless we could face it together. I don’t know how many times you saved my life down there…” Percy sees her eyes begin to well with tears. “When we were fighting the arai…” She closes her eyes as a few tears escape them. Percy reaches forward and wipes a few away with his thumb. She opens her eyes into his again and gives him a small smile.

“My point is,” she continues, her voice thick. “Being a demigod is a high risk life that none of us asked for. An occupational hazard of us just being alive is death by monster attack. This is the first thing we learn when we find out who we are. All the friends we’ve lost over the years…they knew that too.

“And that doesn’t mean that their deaths were ok or justified or that we can forget about them, but I think that shouldering the burden of their deaths is stopping you from remembering the beauty of their lives. And it’s stopping you from remembering all the people who haven’t died because of you. Every single person in this camp owes their life to you, either directly or indirectly. Yes, a lot of people died on this day three years ago, but even more people were saved, and you had more to do with the last thing than the first.”

Percy’s getting teary again, but he doesn’t feel embarrassed this time. Annabeth shuffles closer to him on the sand and grabs both of his hands, squeezing them tightly, bringing them up and pressing her lips against them. “Percy Jackson, you have the purest heart of anyone I have ever met. It’s glaringly obvious to anyone who knows you – except yourself, apparently. I will spend the rest of my life trying to help you see it, but until then you’re just gonna have to trust me.”

Her face changes. It goes from open and pleading to playful, one eyebrow raised and a challenge in her eyes that makes his heart skip a beat, even when the rest of his system is in emotional overwhelm.

“Do you trust me, Percy?” Annabeth asks him.

He lets out a laugh, shaky from tears, and nods, “Yes, Annabeth. I trust you with my life.”

She beams at him, sitting up on her knees to bring her face closer to his, until it’s close enough that he can feel the warmth of her breath as she speaks, her eyes still locked onto his. “Then believe me when I tell you that you deserve forgiveness. And you need to give it to yourself.”

It’s too much. Percy swallows, jaw clenched and glances down. Annabeth releases one of his hands and grabs his chin, not letting him get away that easily.

“You. Deserve. Forgiveness. More than anyone in this world.”

He’s searching her eyes, frantically almost. It feels too easy. There has to be a catch.

“Ok?” Annabeth prompts, her voice still soft but firm, uncompromising.

He opens his mouth to speak but any words get caught in the knot at the base of his throat. Tears are leaking down his face and he can’t. He can’t. It can’t be that easy. It shouldn’t be.

Annabeth exhales, removing her hand from his chin and instead running it through his hair, stopping at the back of his head and bringing it forward until their foreheads touch. She doesn’t say anything else, just sits there with him.

With him, while he closes his eyes and thinks about the Minotaur choking his mom when he was twelve. Thinks about imaging Tyson drowning in the Sea of Monsters when he was thirteen. Thinks about losing Bianca di Angelo and Zoe Nightshade later that same year. He thinks about the campers that fell in the Battle of the Labyrinth whose names he didn’t know, and the campers that fell in the Battle of Manhattan whose names he made sure he did. He thinks of a Titan and a Giant at the Doors of Death, sacrificing themselves so that he and Annabeth could get to safety.

Percy sits on a beach at nineteen years old and thinks of all the death he’s seen in such a short time, all the death that’s been haunting him for years.

A cool breeze passes by him, coming from the water. As it brushes his skin, he comes back to the warmth of his best friend’s forehead pressed against his, her hands: one clutching his, the other tangled in his hair. He feels her soft exhale of breath and thinks about how she is alive, here, with him. Against all odds. He thinks of the campers asleep in the cabins just metres away: alive, here, with him. He thinks of his mom and Paul and Rachel, his friends from Camp Jupiter, all the people he cares about who are alive, here, with him. He thinks about the fact that they outnumber the dead, and realises he’s never really thought about that before.

Percy lifts his head and looks at Annabeth. She cups one side of his face with her hand, eyes still trained on his intently.

“I love you.” He says. “I’m so happy you’re alive.”

Her smile is small and bittersweet, her eyes wide grey pools of understanding.

“Me too,” is all she says.

It is enough.

#i woke up yesterday not expecting to create original content for percy's birthday and instead #here is the longest coherent thing ive ever written #percy jackson #pjo #percabeth #idk what's happening with the form at the beginning #and no estelle is not valid in my universe sorry #its 1:19am i have no business being up so late for this but its percy......i love him #ok bye #hi i wrote a thing #tw death

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seattlesea · 3 years

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Perachel Is Not a Bad Ship

It’s really not. It’s actually one of the best-written relationships (romantic-wise and platonic) in any of the series, way better than Percabeth in my opinion (obviously you can think differently). But why does the fandom hate it so much? Because it ‘got in the way of Percabeth’? And yet you go on and ship Percy with Nico, Jason, Artemis, Athena, etc.? Doesn’t that ‘get in the way of Percabeth’ too? I don’t see any of you mercilessly hating on those ships. Honestly, most of the fans only hate Perachel because the fandom and Riordan told them they should and because hating on Perachel is ‘popular’. Guys- it’s 2021. You can stop acting like they weren’t cute.

But anyways, here’s my reasoning-

1. Rachel treats Percy good. Has Rachel ever hit Percy? Or insulted him? Or made him feel like shit about himself? Or canonically lowered his self-esteem? Or turn all possessive and jealous when someone else likes him despite not even being in a relationship with him? It’s even shown that Percy is a lot more himself when he’s around Rachel. He’s more funny, reckless, wild, laid-back, and carefree, while around Annabeth all he thinks about is the right thing to say. It’s pretty clear he’s more comfortable around Rachel cause she doesn’t overwork his mind or treat him badly, and she even makes him feel good about himself.

2. Percy likes Rachel (more than Annabeth). This is most obvious in the first chapter of The Last Olympian, when Percy and Rachel were driving out to the beach. Percy thinks “We'd spent a lot of time together this summer. I hadn't exactly planned it that way, but the more serious things got at camp, the more I found myself needing to call up Rachel and get away, just for some breathing room. I needed to remind myself that the mortal world was still out there, away from all the monsters using me as their personal punching bag”. When Percy was stressed, he called Rachel, not Annabeth. If you find yourself calling up someone to help you relax and take care of yourself, you clearly like them better than someone you don’t. And not only that, but Percy and Rachel probably spent more time together than Percy did with Annabeth. Percy and Annabeth only saw each other during quests- which isn’t exactly a better way to bond with someone versus actually talking to and hanging out with them- and he even said that they spent a lot of time together, plus they go to the same school. Which means Percy only sees Annabeth two months out of the full year but sees Rachel all year round. After The Last Olympian, Percy and Annabeth have known each other for four years. Two months of four years is eight months total. Percy and Rachel have known each other for two years. Every month (plus every single day at school) plus sometimes in the summer is about twenty-four months. That’s triple the time Percy and Annabeth spent with each other, so they obviously know each other better. Another thought from Percy is “I can't pretend I hadn't thought about Rachel. She was so much easier to be around than...well, than some other girls I knew. I didn't have to work hard, or watch what I said, or rack my brain trying to figure out what she was thinking. Rachel didn't hide much. She let you know how she felt.” That alone should be a huge sign that Percy likes Rachel more than Annabeth. He’s more comfortable around her and he’s scared of Annabeth. You shouldn’t be scared of your partner, that’s a clear sign that something is wrong (aka a toxic relationship). If someone has to ‘work hard’ aka stress themself or ‘watch what they say’ around someone, they are obviously not comfortable around them. Percy even states that Rachel is easier to talk to than Annabeth, and he likes talking to Rachel more.

3. Rachel isn’t possessive. The moment Rachel found out that Annabeth liked Percy, she let her have him, cause she (unlike Annabeth) didn’t care about what she wanted, she cared about what Percy wanted and his own happiness. Rachel didn’t disallow Percy to have other female friends and allowed him to do what he wanted, and she didn’t insult and hate on Annabeth just for liking Percy (and yet the fandom roots for Annabeth, the rude, prejudiced one?).

4. Perachel wasn’t rushed or forced. Percy and Annabeth were just the 'male lead and female lead get together' that was predicted to happen since the moment they saw each other, so their entire relationship was just those two being forced together by both Riordan and the fandom. It was too obvious that it was going to happen, so nothing that happened between them before they became an official couple really mattered since everyone knew that they were going to get together anyways. There was no real tension since everyone knew what was going to happen in the end. As for Rachel, she was a sudden twist that wasn't really expected. She met Percy at the Hoover Dam, helped him despite not knowing or believing him, and then they went to school with each other, helped each other on quests, and grew feelings for each other. Percy and Rachel have a lot of chemistry- way more than Percy and Annabeth- and their relationship didn't happen too fast. In The Mark of Athena, it was said that Annabeth had a crush on Percy since she first knew him. I mean- gaining a crush on someone at twelve years old? That doesn't mean anything. It's just a flimsy middle school crush. Percy and Rachel, though, met each other in The Titan’s Curse- when they were fourteen- and started gaining feelings for each other in The Battle of the Labyrinth- when they were fifteen. Fifteen year-olds can definitely start gaining feelings that aren't just sexual attraction and flimsy crushes, so Percy and Rachel's relationship is a lot more plausible than Percy and Annabeth's. Besides, Percy and Rachel's relationship was a more relaxed 'going with the flow' type of relationship that seemed to naturally flow off the pages while Percy and Annabeth's was too forced with too many forced scenes and moments. Percy and Rachel's relationship seemed a lot more natural and content.

5. Percy and Rachel aren’t opposites. Despite the popular saying ‘Opposites attract’, opposites don’t attract, opposites cancel each other out. Besides, that saying is similar to the saying ‘Your other/better half’, but people don’t have a ‘better half’ that needs to ‘complete them’. The thing between similars and opposites is that people who are too opposite will become enemies (like Percy and Annabeth) but people who are too similar will also become enemies (like Percy and Thalia or Percy and Jason), so people have to find someone who’s in between. Percy and Rachel are just like that. They share similar personality traits, like the same things, and would be able to agree on most things while Percy and Annabeth would realistically argue about everything. Besides, y’all can’t act like the artistic painter mortal and the son of Poseidon skater-boy isn’t a cute-ass concept.

6. It’s not just fan love. Honestly, it seems like Riordan was going to make Perachel happen but after seeing how much hate it got, changed his mind to Percabeth (which is why he made Rachel become the Oracle of Delphi and randomly made up the rule that the Oracle can’t date out of nowhere without any reasoning behind it). I mean- did any of you notice that all romantic Percabeth moments only happened after The Titan’s Curse and after Rachel was introduced? Perachel was actually introduced first, not Percabeth. It would explain why Riordan randomly added in a bunch of unrealistic Percabeth scenarios that were on the brink of cringey (Percy seeing Annabeth in the River Styx and not his mom or Grover, Percy only remembering Annabeth and not his mom, Percy and Annabeth falling into Tartarus- which wasn’t that bad as the fans make it, by the way, they over-exaggerated that a lot- Percy turning down immortality only for Annabeth and not his mom, life, friends, etc.) Percabeth came out too forced because Riordan was only writing what the fans wanted. And the fact that the toxic Percabeth fans who hate on, insult, curse, yell at, or even threaten anyone who so much as says ‘Perachel’ take up the majority of the fandom further proves this. It’s fine to think that someone’s opinion sucks and is absolutely repulsive, but hating them because of it? That just makes you the asshole.

Perachel is actually a really great and healthy relationship and the fandom should stop hating on it just because others told them to or because it ‘got in the way of Percabeth’. You can multi-ship, you know, and you can also stop being a toxic person who hates on people for what they like just like homophobes do.

#perachel #perachel isn't bad stop acting like it is #percabeth is toxic #percy jackson #annabeth chase #rachel dare #rachel elizabeth dare #stop the rachel hate

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thewidowsghost · 3 years

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Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 1

So, I started this on my Wattpad, and if figured I'd just put it on here! Just tell me if you want me to add you to the taglist!

Percy's POV

My name is Percy Jackson.

I am twelve years old. I'm a boarding student at Yancy Academy, a private school for troubled kids in upstate New York, and my sister, (Y/n), taking online schooling at home.

Am I a troubled kid?

Yeah. You could say that.

I could start at any point in my short miserable life to prove it, but things really started going bad last May, when our sixth-grade class took a field trip to Manhattan—twenty-eight mental-case kids and two teachers on a yellow school bus, heading to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to look at ancient Greek and Roman stuff.

I know—it sounds like torture. Most Yancy field trips were.

But Mr. Brunner, our Latin teacher, was leading this trip, so I had hopes.

Mr. Brunner was this middle-aged guy in a motorized wheelchair. He had thinning hair and a scruffy beard and a frayed tweed jacket, which always smelled like coffee. You wouldn't think he'd be cool, but he told stories and jokes and let us play games in class. He also had this awesome collection of Roman armor and weapons, so he was the only teacher whose class didn't put me to sleep.

I hoped the trip would be okay. At least, I hoped that for once I wouldn't get in trouble.

See, bad things happen to me on field trips. Like at my fifth-grade school, when we went to the Saratoga battlefield, I had this accident with a Revolutionary War cannon. I wasn't aiming for the school bus, but of course, I got expelled anyway. And before that, at my fourth-grade school, when we took a behind-the-scenes tour of the Marine World shark pool, I sort of hit the wrong lever on the catwalk and our class took an unplanned swim. And the time before that...Well, you get the idea.

On this trip, I was determined to be good.

All the way into the city, I put up with Nancy Bobofit, the freckly, redheaded kleptomaniac girl, hitting my best friend Grover in the back of the head with chunks of peanut butter-and-ketchup sandwich.

Grover was an easy target. He was scrawny. He cried when he got frustrated. He must've been held back several grades because he was the only sixth grader with acne and the start of a wispy beard on his chin. On top of all that, he was crippled. He had a note excusing him from PE for the rest of his life because he had some kind of muscular disease in his legs. He walked funny, like every step hurt him, but don't let that fool you. You should've seen him run when it was enchilada day in the cafeteria.

Anyway, Nancy Bobofit was throwing wads of sandwiches that stuck in his curly brown hair, and she knew I couldn't do anything back to her because I was already on probation. The headmaster had threatened me with death by in-school suspension if anything bad, embarrassing, or even mildly entertaining happened on this trip.

"I'm going to kill her," I mumble.

Grover tries to calm me down. "I'm okay. I like peanut butter -" He dodges another piece of Nancy's lunch.

"That's it." I start to get up, but Grover pulls me back to my seat.

"You're already on probation," he reminds me. "You know who'll get blamed if anything happens."

Mr. Brunner leads the museum tour.

He rides up front in his wheelchair, guiding us through the big echoey galleries, past marble statues and glass cases full of really old black-and-orange pottery.

It blows my mind that this stuff had survived for two thousand, three thousand years.

He gathers us around a thirteen-foot-tall stone column with a big sphinx on the top, and starts telling us how it was a grave marker, a stele, for a girl about our age. He told us about the carvings on the sides. I was trying to listen to what he had to say, because it was kind of interesting, but everybody around me was talking, and every time I told them to shut up, the other teacher chaperone, Mrs. Dodds, would give me the evil eye.

Mrs. Dodds was this little math teacher from Georgia who always wore a black leather jacket, even though she was fifty years old. She looked mean enough to ride a Harley right into your locker. She had come to Yancy halfway through the year when our last math teacher had a nervous breakdown.

From her first day, Mrs. Dodds loved Nancy Bobofit and figured I was devil spawn. She would point her crooked finger at me and say, "Now, honey," real sweet, and I knew I was going to get after-school detention for a month.

One time, after she'd made me erase answers out of old math workbooks until midnight, I told Grover I didn't think Mrs. Dodds was human. He looked at me, real serious, and said, "You're absolutely right."

Mr. Brunner keeps talking about Greek funeral art.

Finally, Nancy Bobofit snickers something about the naked guy on the stele, and I turn around and say, "Will you shut up?"

It comes out louder than I meant it to.

The whole group laughs. Mr. Brunner stops his story. "Mr. Jackson," he says, "did you have a comment?"

My face is totally red, I think. I answer, "No, sir."

Mr. Brunner points to one of the pictures on the stele. "Perhaps you'll tell us what this picture represents?"

I look at the carving, and feel a flush of relief, because I actually recognize it. "That's Kronos eating his kids, right?"

"Yes," Mr. Brunner says, obviously not satisfied. "And he did this because..."

"Well..." I rack my brain to remember. (Y/n) would have known the answer. She was nuts for this kind of stuff. "Kronos was the king god, and —"

"God?" Mr. Brunner asks.

"Titan," I correct myself. "And...he didn't trust his kids, who were the gods. So, um, Kronos ate them, right? But his wife hid baby Zeus, and gave Kronos a rock to eat instead. And later, when Zeus grew up, he tricked his dad, Kronos, into barfing up his brothers and sisters—"

"Eeew!" says one of the girls behind me.

"—and so there was this big fight between the gods and the Titans," I continue, "and the gods won."

Some snickers from the group.

Behind me, Nancy Bobofit mumbles to a friend, "Like we're going to use this in real life. Like it's going to say on our job applications, 'Please explain why Kronos ate his kids.'"

"And why, Mr. Jackson," Brunner says, "to paraphrase Miss Bobofit's excellent question, does this matter in real life?"

"Busted," Grover mutters.

"Shut up," Nancy hisses, her face even brighter red than her hair.

At least Nancy got packed, too. Mr. Brunner was the only one who ever caught her saying anything wrong. He had radar ears.

I think about his question, and shrug. "I don't know, sir."

"I see." Mr. Brunner looks disappointed. "Well, half credit, Mr. Jackson. Zeus did indeed feed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him disgorge his other five children, who, of course, being immortal gods, had been living and growing up completely undigested in the Titan's stomach. The gods defeated their father, sliced him to pieces with his own scythe, and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld. On that happy note, it's time for lunch. Mrs. Dodds, would you lead us back outside?"

The class drifts off, the girls holding their stomachs, the guys pushing each other around and acting like doofuses.

Grover and I were about to follow when Mr. Brunner said, "Mr. Jackson."

I knew that was coming.

I tell Grover to keep going; then I turn toward Mr. Brunner. "Sir?" Mr. Brunner had this look that wouldn't let you go—intense brown eyes that could've been a thousand years old and had seen everything. "You must learn the answer to my question," Mr. Brunner tells me.

"About the Titans?"

'"About real life. And how your studies apply to it."

"Oh."

"What you learn from me," he says, "is vitally important. I expect you to treat it as such. I will accept only the best from you, Percy Jackson."

I mean, sure, it was kind of cool on tournament days, when he dressed up in a suit of Roman armor and shouted: "What ho!" and challenged us, swordpoint against chalk, to run to the board and name every Greek and Roman person who had ever lived, and their mother, and what god they worshipped. But Mr. Brunner expected me to be as good as everybody else, despite the fact that I have dyslexia and attention deficit disorder and I had never made above a C– in my life. No—he didn't expect me to be as good; he expected me to be better. And I just couldn't learn all those names and facts, much less spell them correctly.

I mumble something about trying harder, while Mr. Brunner takes one long sad look at the stele, like he'd been at this girl's funeral.

He tells me to go outside and eat my lunch.

The class gathers on the front steps of the museum, where we can watch the foot traffic along Fifth Avenue.

Overhead, a huge storm is brewing, with clouds blacker than I'd ever seen over the city. I figure maybe it was global warming or something, because the weather all across New York state had been weird since Christmas. We'd had massive snow storms, flooding, wildfires from lightning strikes. I wouldn't have been surprised if this was a hurricane blowing in.

Nobody else seems to notice, though. Some of the guys are pelting pigeons with Lunchables crackers. Nancy Bobofit is trying to pickpocket something from a lady's purse, and, of course, Mrs. Dodds isn't seeing a thing.

Grover and I sit on the edge of the fountain, away from the others. We thought that maybe if we did that, everybody wouldn't know we were from that school—the school for loser freaks who couldn't make it elsewhere.

"Detention?" Grover asked.

"Nah," I said. "Not from Brunner. I just wish he'd lay off me sometimes. I mean—I'm not a genius, not like (Y/n). She seems to know everything."

Grover doesn't say anything for a while. Then, when I think he is going to give me some deep philosophical comment to make me feel better, he asks, "Can I have your apple?"

I don't have much of an appetite, so I let him take it.

I watch the stream of cabs going down Fifth Avenue, and think about my mom's apartment, only a little ways uptown from where we sit. I hadn't seen her or my sister since Christmas. I want so bad to jump in a taxi and head home. Mom and (Y/n) would hug me and be glad to see me, but Mom would be disappointed, too. She'd send me right back to Yancy, remind me that I had to try harder, even if this was my sixth school in six years and I was probably going to be kicked out again. I couldn't be able to stand that sad look she'd give me.

Mr. Brunner parked his wheelchair at the base of the handicapped ramp. He ate celery while he read a paperback novel. A red umbrella stuck up from the back of his chair, making it look like a motorized café table.

I am about to unwrap my sandwich when Nancy Bobofit appears in front of me with her ugly friends—I guess she'd gotten tired of stealing from the tourists—and dumps her half-eaten lunch in Grover's lap.

"Oops." She grins at me with her crooked teeth. Her freckles are orange, as if somebody had spray-painted her face with liquid Cheetos.

I try to stay cool. The school counselor had told me a million times, "Count to ten, get control of your temper." But I am so mad my mind went blank. A wave roars in my ears.

I don't remember touching her, but the next thing I knew, Nancy is sitting on her butt in the fountain, screaming, "Percy pushed me!"

Mrs. Dodds materialized next to us.

Some of the kids were whispering: "Did you see—"

"—the water—"

"—like it grabbed her—"

I don't know what they were talking about. All I know is that I was in trouble again.

As soon as Mrs. Dodds is sure poor little Nancy was okay, promising to get her a new shirt at the museum gift shop, etc., etc., Mrs. Dodds turns on me. There was a triumphant fire in her eyes as if I'd done something she'd been waiting for all semester. "Now, honey—"

"I know," I grumble. "A month erasing workbooks." That wasn't the right thing to say.

"Come with me," Mrs. Dodds says.

"Wait!" Grover yelps. "It was me. I pushed her."

I stare at him, stunned. I can't believe he was trying to cover for me. Mrs. Dodds scared Grover to death.

She glares at him so hard his whiskery chin trembled.

"I don't think so, Mr. Underwood," she says.

"But—"

"You—will—stay—here."

Grover looks at me desperately.

"It's okay, man," I tell him. "Thanks for trying."

"Honey," Mrs. Dodds barks at me. "Now."

Nancy Bobofit smirks. I give her my deluxe I'll-kill-you-later stare. Then I turn to face Mrs. Dodds, but she isn't there. She is standing at the museum entrance, way at the top of the steps, gesturing impatiently at me to come on.

How'd she get there so fast?

I have moments like that a lot, when my brain falls asleep or something, and the next thing I know I've missed something, as if a puzzle piece fell out of the universe and left me staring at the blank place behind it. The school counselor told me this was part of the ADHD, my brain misinterpreting things.

I wasn't so sure. I go after Mrs. Dodds.

Halfway up the steps, I glance back at Grover. He is looking pale, cutting his eyes between me and Mr. Brunner, like he wanted Mr. Brunner to notice what was going on, but Mr. Brunner is absorbed in his novel.

I look back up. Mrs. Dodds had disappeared again. She is now inside the building, at the end of the entrance hall.

Okay, I think. She's going to make me buy a new shirt for Nancy at the gift shop.

But apparently, that wasn't the plan.

I follow her deeper into the museum. When I finally catch up to her, we are back in the Greek and Roman section.

Except for us, the gallery is empty.

Mrs. Dodds stands with her arms crossed in front of a big marble frieze of the Greek gods. She is making this weird noise in her throat, like growling.

Even without the noise, I would've been nervous. It's weird being alone with a teacher, especially Mrs. Dodds. Something about the way she looked at the frieze as if she wanted to pulverize it...

"You've been giving us problems, honey," she says.

I do the safe thing. I reply, "Yes, ma'am."

She tugs on the cuffs of her leather jacket. "Did you really think you would get away with it?"

The look in her eyes is beyond mad. It was evil.

She's a teacher, I thought nervously. It's not like she's going to hurt me. I say, "I'll—I'll try harder, ma'am."

Thunder shakes the building.

"We are not fools, Percy Jackson," Mrs. Dodds said. "It was only a matter of time before we found you out. Confess, and you will suffer less pain."

I didn't know what she's talking about.

All I can think of was that the teachers must've found the illegal stash of candy I'd been selling out of my dorm room. Or maybe they'd realized I got my essay on Tom Sawyer from the Internet without ever reading the book and now they were going to take away my grade. Or worse, they were going to make me read the book.

"Well?" she demands.

"Ma'am, I don't..."

"Your time is up," she hisses.

Then the weirdest thing happens. Her eyes begin to glow like barbecue coals. Her fingers stretch, turning into talons. Her jacket melts into large, leathery wings. She isn't human. She is a shriveled hag with bat wings and claws and a mouth full of yellow fangs, and she was about to slice me to ribbons.

Then things got even stranger.

Mr. Brunner, who'd been out in front of the museum a minute before, wheels his chair into the doorway of the gallery, holding a pen in his hand.

"What ho, Percy!" he shouts and tosses the pen through the air.

Mrs. Dodds lunges at me.

With a yelp, I dodge and feel talons slash the air next to my ear. I snatch the ballpoint pen out of the air, but when it hits my hand, it isn;t a pen anymore. It is a sword—Mr. Brunner's bronze sword, which he always uses on tournament day.

Mrs. Dodds spins towards me with a murderous look in her eyes.

My knees are jelly. My hands are shaking so bad I almost drop the sword.

She snarl, "Die, honey!" And she flies straight at me.

Absolute terror runs through my body. I did the only thing that came naturally: I swing the sword.

The metal blade hits her shoulder and passes clean through her body as if she was made of water. Hisss!

Mrs. Dodds was a sandcastle in a power fan. She explodes into yellow powder, vaporizing on the spot, leaving nothing but the smell of sulfur and a dying screech and a chill of evil in the air, as if those two glowing red eyes are still watching me.

I'm alone.

There is a ballpoint pen in my hand.

Mr. Brunner isn't there. Nobody is there but me.

My hands are still trembling. My lunch must've been contaminated with magic mushrooms or something.

Had I imagined the whole thing?

I walk back outside.

It had started to rain.

Grover is sitting by the fountain, a museum map tented over his head. Nancy Bobofit is still standing there, soaked from her swim in the fountain, grumbling to her ugly friends. When she sees me, she says, "I hope Mrs. Kerr whipped your butt."

I answer, "Who?"

"Our teacher. Duh!"

I blink. We don't have a teacher named Mrs. Kerr. I ask Nancy what she is talking about.

She just rolls her eyes and turns away.

I ask Grover where Mrs. Dodds was.

"Who?" he asks, but he pauses first and he wouldn't look at me, so I figure he was messing with me.

"Not funny, man," I tell him. "This is serious."

Thunder booms overhead.

I see Mr. Brunner sitting under his red umbrella, reading his book as if he'd never moved.

I go over to him.

He looks up, a little distracted. "Ah, that would be my pen. Please bring your own writing utensil in the future, Mr. Jackson."

I had Mr. Brunner his pen. I hadn't even realized I was still holding it.

"Sir," I ask, "where's Mrs. Dodds?"

He stares blankly at me, "Who?"

"The other chaperone. Mrs. Dodds. The pre-algebra teacher."

He frowns and sits forward, looking mildly concerned. "Percy, there is no Mrs. Dodds on this trip. As far as I know, there has never been a Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy. Are you feeling all right?"

Word Count: 3159 words

So yeah, this is the first chapter of this book.

Not much (Y/n) yet, but we'll get there.

Love y'all! Kaitlynn ❤️😍

#percy jackson x sister reader #sally jackson x daugther reader #demigod reader #fem reader #reader insert #percy jackson and the heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the lightning thief reader insert #percy jackson and the battle of the labyrinth #percy jackson and the titans curse #percy jackson and the lightning thief #percy jackson and the greek gods #percy jackson and the sea of monsters #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians reader insert

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thegraystreaks · 4 years

Note

i just read your fics on ao3 and they were so good, i love missing moments from canon! Idk if you ever take prompts but if you do i would really love to read a different way for percabeth to get together in canon?

anon, the way you got me to write something for the first time in ages….

anyway this is super self indulgent but I had a lot of fun writing it!! thank u for your kinds words I would die for you probably!!

this takes place during botl, the day Percy comes back from Ogygia, sometime after Annabeth storms out of the Big House.

“Annabeth glared at me. You are the single most annoying person I’ve ever met!” And she stormed out of the room.

I stared at the doorway. I felt like hitting something. “So much for being the bravest friend she’s ever had.”

He finds Annabeth in the arena. It’s empty save for her — everyone knows by now that sparring with her while she’s like this never leads to anything good. So she’s taking on a dummy, her anger apparent in the rigid lines of her body, fury in the force behind her blows. She rolls and kicks, dodging imaginary attacks, and Percy could swear that the air is thick, charged, like the feeling before a thunderstorm. Which is stupid — it’s camp, and the magical borders keep the sky cloudless as always.

As he approaches, the only acknowledgement of his presence is her intensified rage, the way her blade slashes and hacks with renewed vigor. They’re gonna need to replace that dummy, he thinks.

“Can we talk?”

She wheels to face him, thunder in her eyes. For a moment, he’s scared he’ll need to pull out Riptide. She turns to the dummy one last time and stabs it straight through the heart. “You wanna talk? Then go ahead.”

He swallows nervously. Now that he’s got her attention, he doesn’t quite know where to start. His mind flashes to last winter, and how distraught he was when she had been kidnapped. How he’d have done anything to get her back. How he just knew that she couldn’t be dead. He reaches out hesitantly, but pulls his arm back when he glances at the hilt of the blade, still sticking out of the dummy.

“I was thinking about how upset I was last winter, when you were kidnapped. That, um — well, ‘sucked’ doesn’t really cover it. That was awful. I really am sorry that I worried you.”

Something shifts in her eyes, and he can see the hurt dripping through the cracks of her anger. “You couldn’t send an Iris Message? I thought you were dead, Percy.”

He scratches the back of his neck. “Drachmas were a bit hard to come by on the island.”

“Ha,” she laughs drily. She pauses to wipe at the sweat on her brow. “What was she like?” The words drip with contempt.

“I don’t — who?”

“Don’t play dumb,” she scoffs. “Calypso. What was she like?”

Air rushes out of Percy’s lungs. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t that. Chiron was right, then. She had figured out where he’d been.

“Does it matter?”

“Well, you spent two full weeks there, so I can’t imagine she looks like the ancient hag she is. How old is she again? Two-thousand? Or is it three?”

“Annabeth—”

“Two weeks, Percy!” she cries.

“I’m sorry, okay? Time was weird there!”

“Oh, time was weird, that’s your excuse?”

“Yeah, that’s my excuse!” he shoots back. “And I wasn’t just laying on a beach being fed grapes or something, I was recovering! From being blown up!”

That seems to drain some of the fight from her. She looks away, and her voice shrinks down: “I’m sorry you were hurt. I—I hate seeing you hurt.”

In the silence that follows, he thinks inexplicably of Aphrodite coming to visit him last winter, the limo so out of place in the desert. The way that she had appeared, if only for a second, like the girl in front of him. How she had promised she wouldn’t let his love life be “easy and boring”. Gods, why couldn’t it be? The rest of his life is crazy enough.

He had hoped, briefly, that Aphrodite might’ve forgotten about her promise when they’d returned to Olympus. He remembers a slow, sad song, and his hands on Annabeth’s waist as they had swayed. How it had felt like the pieces were maybe finally starting to fall into place. The memory seems worlds away.

“Annabeth, listen. I’m sorry I was gone so long. But I didn’t choose to be sent there. And—and I came back.”

“Duh, Percy,” she rolls her eyes. “That’s her curse.”

“Okay, you’re right.” She turns away. He reaches out, more confident now, and takes hold of her arm. “But curse or not, I chose to come back.”

She pulls her arm out of his grip. “Yeah, so that you could tell me I have to bring some mortal girl to lead my quest!”

“What does Rachel have to do with this?”

“Are you fucking serious?” she shouts. He can see the walls building back up, the storm returning in her eyes. She whips around and yanks her dagger out of the sparring dummy, kicking up dirt as she begins to stalk away.

This was not how he wanted this to go, not his intent when he came to find her. Of all the ways returning to camp might’ve gone, he had never imagined it like this. He tries to reconcile the girl that kissed him in the mountain with this one, who can’t go more than a minute without yelling at him, that won’t stop running off. Why is this so complicated? She kissed him, right? Isn’t that supposed to be it? The happy ending? If movies told him anything, it was that the kiss means you get the girl. It shouldn’t be this hard. It wouldn’t be, he thinks bitterly, if she would quit storming off.

“Gods, would you stop running away when we’re talking?” he shouts after her. “Would it kill you to stick around and listen to me?”

He’s taken aback when she actually turns around, arms crossed and foot tapping. “Well?”

Percy blinks. He hadn’t thought this far ahead. Shit, what is he trying to say? “You know, Calypso offered me immortality. I could’ve escaped the prophecy, I could’ve lived in paradise forever—”

That probably wasn’t what he should’ve led with. “If you want me to ‘stick around and listen’, you’re off to a terrible start,” she seethes.

He steamrolls on anyway: “—but I didn’t, I didn’t take her offer, because — well, because of Grover and Tyson, and the quest isn’t over yet, but also because—” he stops. He’s rambling. Focus. How can he say this? “Did you really kiss me back there, or did I make that up in my head?”

She freezes. Silence stretches out between them, and Percy kind of wants the ground to swallow him whole. But it’s out there, now. Might as well go all in. “I really hope you did, because I’m gonna feel insanely stupid if it was just some volcanic-explosion-induced fever dream.”

Slowly, she unfreezes. Nods. “Uh. Yeah, I did.”

He takes a step closer. “I don’t care about ‘some mortal girl’. At least, not the way I care about….about you.” He can feel the blood rushing in his ears, can feel his heart beating painfully fast. She’s still just standing there, staring and staring but not moving. She’s not saying anything, why isn’t she saying anything?

“Gods, can you throw me a bone, Annabeth? I feel like I’m dying here—”

He’s cut off when she lunges forward and kisses him. It’s like their first kiss in two ways: it’s over before he can even react, and it leaves him staring, dumbfounded. How is it that she’s caught him off-guard with this not once, but twice now?

“Think you’ll remember that one was real?” she asks, still only inches from his face. Her breath smells of strawberries, and her eyes are puffy from his almost-funeral, but the storm in them begins to clear.

He laughs, bright and full. “You should probably kiss me one more time, just to be safe.”

“Hmm,” she considers, arms coming up around his neck. “Should I count down so that you can be ready this time?”

He groans. “You are so not making this easy.”

“I am never, ever going to make things easy for you, Seaweed Brain. Get used to it.”

“Gods, you’re insufferable. It shouldn’t be this cute.”

“Three, two—”

He’s on her before she reaches one, one hand pulling her closer at the waist and the other finding her cheek. When their lips meet, it feels like everything he’s been waiting for. Like the clouds parting, like sunshine, like warmth, like happiness.

It may not be their first kiss, but it’s their best yet.

#anonymous #the self-indulgence really jumped out here.....#anyway tell me what u think!!!#my writing #percabeth #percabeth fanfic

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iwashwindows · 3 years

Text

PJO/HOO OPINIOS (or just bunch of random stuff)

*Also spoiler alert i suppose*

I didn't like Annabeth right away, it actually took me a long time to grow on her (sorry Annabeth)

I am fine with Piper but she can sometimes annoy me, like she was fine in tlh and then the moa happend and she annoyed me when Jason was talking about romans or Reyna, Piper was always so weird about it that Jason could clearly see that something is bothering her and than he had to constantly assure her that he is going to stay ( EVEN THOUGHT HE BASICALLY LEFT THE ONLY HOME HE EVER KNEW AND FRIENDS HE HAD FOR 12 YEARS AND THEY HAVE RIGHT TO KILL HIM ON SIGHT BECOUSE HE IS AN OUTLAW AND PIPER IS LIKE YOU ARE GOING TO LEAVE ME FOR REYNA LIKE ?????? GIRL HE ISN'T GOING ANYWHERE)

And then she was ok in hoh (she had like 4 chapters but they were good chapters) and in boo she redeemed herself i liked when she embraced her Aphrodite side as to say and was all about accepting all your feelings and being yourself and i really liked every Piper chapter in boo....and then toa happend and she moved on with speed unknown to men ( I'm fine with her having a girlfriend she seems happy but she moved on so fast )

Frank and Hazel deserved more love i really loved them, they are both cinnamon rolls that can and will kill you if they wanted to

I actually didn't mind when Percy turned down immortality or lost his Achilles curse

I like the idea of camp jupiter better then camp half- blood, i personally wouldn't go there because 1) i am procrastinator and incapable of being up early and 2) i would probably die there

Jason deserved better, my poor child didn't deserve THAT

I don't mind that Reyna is single, she is strong on her own (same for Thalia)

Also you can't blame her when she immediately offered Percy to be praetor and to help her, she was in desperate situation with Jason missing like 8 months and doing everything herself, and Octavian who probably materialised himself in her office every other day saying things like WHERE IS JASON or WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO REPLACE HIM or HE IS DEAD BY NOW I SHOULD BE PRAETOR

I don't blame her for offering it to Percy but i still didn't like that he was actually made praetor at the end of son ( i am weird i know )

I never understood the hate for Rachel and why was Annabeth so mean to her (i know it was because of Percy but still)

It doesn't make sense that at the end of boo Reyna and Piper are that close to eachother, when did they bond (btw i liked the scene becouse it showed Piper's growth)

But wouldn't it make more sense that Jason was there instead of Piper ( Jason and Reyna deserved one normal conversation i said what i said), or even better Piper can still be there talking with Reyna and then Jason approaches and sees them, then Piper just stands up and leaves and says you guys need to talk, which would still show her development becouse she knows that both Jason and Reyna need that talk and she now trusts Jason completely and respects Reyna and knows how much she secrfised for this war, and then at the end Jason is the one who offered Reyna to come to camp half-blood if she needs rest, wouldn't that be way more impactful becouse he knows how is it to be leader all the time, and how exosting cj can be and also he would be there ( they know eachother for 4 years i mean you have to invite your friend to visit you). AND THEN WHEN HE DIES SHE CAN REMEMBER THAT OFFER AND COME TO CHB AND HAVE THE REST SHE ALWAYS WANTED, I MEAN NICO IS THERE AND I AM SURE HE WOULD BE HAPPY TO SEE HER, AND SHE WOULD NOT JOIN THE HUNTERS (sorry people but i don't like that she just randomly desided do join hunters and was like YAY VACATION)

I don't know why people say they wanted Grover to be more in HOO , i love him too but he just wouldn't fit in there

I also don't want dark Percy, when he said he deserved to die for poisoning that godess in tartarus and when even Annabeth was scared of him it was too much for my heart ( i love angst like every other person but my heart just can't take it )

I still like that moment tho and all of tartarus even if it's pain to my heart

We stan Will in this household, he and Nico deserve to shine in solangelo book and their quest to tartarus

I don't want Bob to be rescued, if that voice Nico heard was even Bob ( sorry not sorry, i like Bob but if he got saved then his sacrefice wouldn't mean anything in HOO )

AND NO JASON IS NOT SAME CASE BECAUSE I NEED HIM TO BE ALIVE AND HAPPY 😭😭😭

I want cj mini stories, we need more of romans ( i love chb but i am curious)

Ethan had the dumbest death, he worked with Kronos/Luke and somehow when he betrayed him, he forgot that Kronos/Luke has Achilles curse and just attacked him and died

It's sad that Rick forgot that Hazel knew Jason before he disappeared and was worried about him ( the bond they could have had, also Jason needs one person on argo II who doesn't think that he is too perfect, HE WAS TOLD TO BE THAT WAY FOR 12 YEARS, IT'S NOT HIS FAULT)

Also Rick Riordan and plot holes, just write down important stuff if you can't remember it all, it's not that hard

Boo wasn't that bad book i actually liked a lot of scenes from there, but it is an anticlimactic finale

I still love all pjo and hoo books ok, they are my rays of sunshine and i am currently rereading them

#pjo #hoo #long post #sorry for reading all of this #I don't know how to use tumblr #also I'm bored becouse #quarantine #and i spam my sister too much about pjo and hoo #she didn't even read the books and knows everything becouse i don't have self control and i need to talk 24/7 #percy jackson #annabeth chase #jason grace #piper mclean #frank zhang #hazel levesque #leo valdez #nico di angelo #will solace #reyna avila ramirez arellano

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percabeth4life · 4 years

Text

Grover Unexpectedly Loses His Pants

First Chapter || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter || AO3

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

Naturally I ditched Grover as soon as we got to the bus terminal.

I know its rude, but I’m still nowhere near able to trust him. I’m getting really mixed signals from him.

Ugh, I wish I could talk to Triton. He’d know what to do.

I fingered my bracelet and caught a taxi uptown.

“East One-hundred-and-fourth and First,” I told the driver.

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

Now, everyone of course knows how amazing my mom is.

Her name is Sally Jackson and she’s had a sucky life, but she deserves the world.

She’s really the best person I know and an amazing mom, even if she’s a little overprotective of me.

Her parents died in a plane crash when she was five, and she was raised by an uncle who didn’t care much about her. She wanted to be a novelist, so she spent high school working to save enough money for a college with a good creative-writing program. Then her uncle got cancer, and she quite school her senior year to take care of him. After he died, she was left with no money, no family, and no diploma.

The only good break she’s gotten was meeting my dad, probably Oceanus.

She won’t tell me about him, and I don’t have any memories of him except for the dreams I’ve had of being in his palace. My mom doesn’t like to talk about him cause it makes her sad. She has no pictures too.

They obviously weren’t married, Oceanus has Tethys, and Tethys is really nice, so I can see why he wouldn’t want to leave her. But I can’t understand why he would cheat on her with my mom. Unless Tethys was okay with it? Immortals don’t make any sense.

Mom just tells me that he’s rich and important, so their relationship was a secret. Then one day, he set sail across the Atlantic on some important journey, and he never came back.

Of course, Oceanus is a sea king. He’s extremely busy. And has a bunch of kids, even if most are fully grown and immortal. Of course, he can’t visit. That doesn’t make it hurt any less.

The myths speak highly of him from what I can find, and he was nice when I was there. I still wish that I had a dad here though, then mom wouldn’t need to marry Smelly Gabe.

She’s raised me all alone, taking odd jobs and taking night classes to get her high school diploma. She never ever complained or got mad, not even once. I know I’m not an easy kid, but she’s amazing.

I did my best to ignore the faint buzzing tugging at me and walking into the apartment.

Unfortunately, mom was not home from work. Instead, Smelly Gabe was in the living room, playing poker with his buddies. The television blared ESPN. Chips and beer cans were strewn all over the carpet.

Hardly looking up, he said around his cigar, “So, you’re home.”

“Where’s my mom?”

“Working,” he said. “You got any cash?”

His greeting wasn’t a surprise, that was his usual response.

Looking at him I could see he’s gained weight. He has like three hairs on his head instead of the previous five, and all are combed over his bald scalp. As if that could make up for the rest of his ugly.

He manages the Electronics Mega-Mart in Queens, supposedly. I have no idea how he hasn’t been fired previously, seeing how he’s never gone into work as far as I know.

All he does is collect paychecks, spend money on cigars that made me nauseous, and buy enough beer to drown in. Whenever I’m home I’m expected to fund his gambling. Thankfully the river has lots of money so all I have to do is give him a little and that covers it.

The few times I’ve refused… Well let’s just say it’s a good thing I have healing in water.

“Here,” I grumbled, tossing a five at him, “I hope you lose.”

He sneered as I stalked out, “Your report card came, brain boy!” He shouted, “I wouldn’t act so snooty!”

Jerk.

I slammed the door to my room, which currently smelled like cigars and beer.

Gross.

Gabe was using it as his “study” while I was at boarding school. All the more reason to never go to another ever again.

I pulled Carl, in his newly adapted portable fish tank, from my enchanted back and settled it (and him) on the desk.

He swam in circles happily, until he noticed the mess. Then he grumbled about Gabe.

Honestly the smell was almost worse then the feeling that those old ladies gave me, definitely worse than the nightmares I had about Ms. Dodds. She’s okay now after all.

I shuffled, scratching at my arms, the feeling from the old ladies itching at me, my breathing sped up.

“Percy?” My mom called.

She opened the bedroom door and suddenly everything felt better.

She can make me feel good just by being there, it’s always been like that.

Her and Triton are safe places, I know I’m okay when I’m with them. Nothing could ever go wrong around them.

Her eyes sparkle and change in the light, her smile is as warm as a quilt, she’s got a few gray streaks mixed in with her long brown hair, but I never think of her as any where near old. Whenever she looks at me it’s like she sees all the good, all the things that make her proud, she never sees the bad. I’ve never heard her raise her voice or say an unkind word to anyone, not even when I was younger or to Gabe.

“Oh, Percy,” She hugged me tight. “I can’t believe it. You’ve grown since Christmas!”

I blinked, had I? My clothes from Triton fit the same. Though, my normal clothes were a little tight…

“And your hair is so long now, we’ll have to cut it later.”

I touched my hair.

“Oh and it’s still so blue, it looks nice.”

I smiled.

Mom looked well though. Her red-white-and-blue Sweet on America uniform smelled like the best things in the world: chocolate, licorice, and all the other stuff she sold at the candy shop in Grand Central. She’d brought me a huge bag of “free samples” it looked like, just like she always did when I finished school, or like she did when I came home for winter break.

“Sit,” she tugged me to sit beside her on the bed now, before starting to question me.

We sat together on the edge of the bed. I attacked a thing of blueberry sour strings and she ran her hand through my hair demanding to know everything that had happened to me while I was away for the last few months that hadn’t made it into my letters.

She didn’t mention me getting expelled, she didn’t seem to care. But was I okay? Was her little boy doing alright?

I leaned into her while laughingly saying she was smothering me. Her presence made everything so much better. I’m… I’m really, really glad to see her.

I blinked back tears, everything has just been so much I don’t know what to do.

From the other room, Gabe interrupted, “Hey Sally—how about some bean dip, huh?”

I gritted my teeth, I really just want to drown him.

My mom is the nicest person in the world. She should’ve been married to a millionaire, not some jerk like Gabe.

For her sake, I kept my last days at Yancy Academy happy. I told her I wasn’t down about the expulsion, I’d lasted longer than usual this time. I’d made a new friend (even if I ditched him now), and I’d done good in Latin and Pre-Calc. Honestly the fights hadn’t been anywhere near as bad as the headmaster said.

I put the best spin on the year that I could, pasting a smile on my face and keeping my voice light.

“Until the trip to the museum…”

“What?” my mom asked. Her eyes tugged at my conscience, trying to pull out the secrets. “Did something scare you?”

I couldn’t lie, not to her. But I also can’t tell her about Ms. Dodds.

“No Mom, just… Nancy pushed Grover and I lost control of my waterbending a little. It shoved Nancy into the fountain. But no one seemed to really notice!”

She pursed her lips. “But no one noticed?”

I nodded, “Yeah.” No one that could do anything at least.

She relaxed, “I have a surprise for you,” She said. “We’re going to the beach.”

My eyes widened. “Montauk?”

“Three nights—same cabin.”

“When?”

“As soon as I get changed.”

I was excited, we haven’t been able to go for the last two summers. Gabe said there wasn’t enough money, as if we didn’t get a massive discount because my grandmother had been close friends with the person that owns the land the cabin is on. I doubt we’d be able to afford it if we didn’t have that discount, but we did so there.

Gabe appeared in the doorway and growled, “Bean dip, Sally? Didn’t you hear me?”

I wanted to punch him, or better yet, drown him. But I met my mom’s eyes and I understood the deal she was offering me: be nice to Gabe for a little while. Just until she was ready to leave for Montauk. Then we would get out of here.

“I was on my way, honey,” she smiled at Gabe. “We were just talking about the trip.”

His eyes narrowed, “The trip? You mean you were serious about that?”

I bit my tongue to keep from snarling at him. Mom wouldn’t let him stop us, she never broke her promises and she’s probably already paid. If I snap now, then he might try to stop us out of spite.

I just glared.

“Of course, I’m serious,” Mom said evenly, “You won’t have to worry about money. And besides,” she added, “You won’t have to settle for just bean dip. I’m going to make enough seven-layer dip for the whole weekend. Guacamole. Sour cream. The works.”

He softened a bit. “So this money for your trip… it comes out of your clothes budget, right?”

“Yes, honey” she said.

I made a mental note to use some of the money I have hidden in my magic bag to buy her something nice to wear.

“And you won’t take my car anywhere but there and back.”

“We’ll be very careful.”

Gabe scratched his double chin. “Maybe if you hurry with that seven-layer dip… And maybe if the kid apologizes for interrupting my poker game.”

Maybe if I kick you in your soft spot and see how long you can hold your breath under water, I thought.

But mom’s eyes warned me to not make him mad.

I wanted to scream, I can’t understand why she puts up with this guy.

I put on my princely face just like Triton taught me and turned to him, “I’m sorry. I’m really horribly sorry for interrupting your incredibly important poker game. Please go back to it right now, don’t let us keep you from it.”

Gabe’s eyes narrowed, probably trying to use his jellyfish sized brain to look for sarcasm.

“Yeah, whatever.” He decided.

He went back to his game.

“Thank you, Percy,” my mom said. “Once we get to Montauk, we’ll talk more about… everything.”

For a second, I saw a fear in her eyes, the same kind that I saw in Grover’s. A nervousness, as if my mom could feel the buzzing too.

But then she smiled again, and I could almost believe I’d imagined it.

But the image didn’t leave my mind.

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

We were all ready to leave, I didn’t bother to unpack my bags, just put Carl’s magic portable fish tank back in my magic bag. I don’t trust Gabe to not mess with my stuff so I’m just bringing it all with me (except my school books). My magic bag holds all of the important things, my books from Triton and my friends, all their gifts, and a few changes of extra clothes (the nice ones from Triton and one pair of normal mortal clothes).

Gabe took a break from his poker game long enough to watch me lug my mom’s bags to the car, griping the whole time about losing her cooking—and more importantly, his ’78 Camaro—for the whole weekend.

“Not a scratch on this car, brain boy,” he warned me as I loaded the last bag. “Not one little scratch.”

I rolled my eyes out of his sight. Obviously, I was planning to drive the whole way, I’m already twelve, might as well get the practice in. I snorted.

I watched him lumber back towards the apartment building. I felt the well of anger in me, just needing a release somehow, and I did the same symbol that Grover did before, only this time I channeled a bit of my power into it, just like I do purification powers.

The screen door slammed shut so hard it whacked him in the butt and sent him flying up the suitcase as if he’d been shot from a cannon. I hid a smile and got in the Camaro, telling my mom to step on it.

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

The rental cabin is on the south shore, way out at the tip of Long Island. It’s a little pastel box with faded curtains, half sunken into the dunes. There’s always sand in the sheets and spiders in the cabinets, most of the time the sea is too cold to be considered swimmable.

I love the place.

We’ve been going here forever, since before I was born even. My mom met my dad here, even if she never told me I know that’s why it’s so special to her.

It’s special to me because it’s where I waterbended for the first time.

I smiled at the sea and could almost imagine it was welcoming me back.

My mom almost seems to grow younger as we get closer to the sea, years of worry and work disappearing from her face. Her eyes turned the color of the sea. They change color a lot, but this spot, here at the beach, is when they look the most like the ocean. I think it’s where they’re prettiest.

Sometimes I wonder if she has immortal blood in her somewhere, it almost seems like it with how she changes based on the place.

We arrived at sunset, opened all the cabin’s windows, and went through our usual cleaning routine. We walked on the beach, fed blue corn chips to the seagulls, and munched on blue jelly beans, blue saltwater taffy, and all the other free samples my mom had brought from work. I left Carl’s portable tank in the bag for now, I’d pull him out tomorrow (though I did remember to feed him).

When it finally got dark, we made a fire.

We roasted hot dogs and marshmallows. Mom told me stories about when she was a kid, back before her parents died in the plane crash.

She told me about how her dad was so very handsome, she’d inherited his eyes, and how her mom had eyes the color of seafoam and had loved the sea just as much as my mom does.

She told me about all the books she wants to write someday, I really want to read them too. Fantasy books are more fun to me, if there’s audio books of her books I’m definitely reading (listening to) them.

Eventually I pulled together the nerve to ask about my dad, maybe she’ll say something new, something that would help me be sure that Oceanus is my dad. I’m almost positive of it but… but a little more confirmation wouldn’t hurt.

I mean though, who else would be a danger for me, even at the camp, to have as a parent? I would think Poseidon, but the myths are filled with his kids. He wouldn't be a danger as a dad at all. So it has to be Oceanus, he's the only one strong enough that would also be someone the gods might not like.

“He was kind, Percy,” she murmured. “Tall, handsome, and powerful. But gentle too. You have… had,” she gave a small laugh as she glanced at my blue hair, “His black hair, and his green eyes. Yours is a bit longer than his though.” She ran a hand through my hair.

Mom fished a blue jelly bean out of her candy bag. “I wish he could see you, Percy. He would be so proud.”

I wondered if he would. In terms of sea magic, he might, I know Triton is proud. He tells me he is, that he’s very pleased with how far I’ve come. Oceanus might be pleased with me by sea standards, but would he agree with Triton that land lessons are dumb and shouldn’t count? Or would he see me, a dyslexic, hyperactive boy with at D+ report card, kicked out of school for the sixth time in six years and be ashamed.

“How old was I?” I asked. “I mean… when he left?”

Does he just not recognize me?

She watched the flames, “He was only with me for the summer and a little into the fall Percy. Just the one short time. Right here at this beach. This cabin.”

I blinked, I swear I have a memory of a smile, something…

“But… he knew me as a baby?”

He had to… right?

“No, honey. He knew I was expecting a baby, but he never saw you. He had to leave before you were born.”

My heart sank, but also lightened.

If Oceanus had never seen me then I suppose it makes sense that he couldn’t recognize me, even if he could tell that I was something familiar to him based on his comment in my dreams.

“I sense my power on you, you’ve interacted with something of mine.”

Was he recognizing me? Did he not expect me there and assumed I was someone else that had met… me?

I’m not sure but… I was still sad.a

He obviously has his duties as a king, Triton is so busy as a prince being a king must be so much worse, but still. He couldn’t even come to check on mom?

The ancient laws that Zeus made wouldn’t apply to a Titan, would they?

I only know the basics of these laws but…

“Are you going to send me away again?” I asked mom now. “To another boarding school?”

She pulled a marshmallow from the fire.

“I don’t know, honey,” Her voice was heavy. “I think… I think we’ll have to do something.”

Does she not want me around? I just… I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to leave again.

“Are you… are you sending me away because you don’t want me around?” I whispered.

My mom’s eyes welled with tears. She took my hand, squeezing it tight. “Oh, Percy, no. I—I have to, honey. For your own good. I have to send you away.”

But why.

“Because I’m not normal? Because… Because I can waterbend?”

“Oh, oh Percy, you not being normal isn’t a bad thing. And your waterbending is wonderful. I just, I just want you safe. I thought Yancy Academy was far enough away, I thought you’d be finally be safe.”

Safe from what? The monsters? Does… does mom know.

I’ve been assuming she didn’t, but maybe that was dumb.

Does she know? Know who dad is? Know what I am? Does she know about the myths?

“Safe from what mom?”

She stared at me for a long moment…

“I’ve tried to keep you as close to me as I could,” My mom said. “They told me that was a mistake. But there’s only one other option, Percy—the place your father wanted to send you. And I just… I just can’t stand to do it.”

I frowned, Oceanus wanted me to go someplace special?

“He wanted me to go to a special school?”

“Not a school,” She said softly. “A summer camp.”

Camp Half-Blood. Grover had a card for it.

Triton told me about it, though not the name, the camp for Half-Bloods, half immortal, half mortal.

That had to be what mom is talking about.

“I’m sorry, Percy,” She said, her voice breaking. “But I can’t talk about it. I—I couldn’t send you to that place. It might mean saying goodbye to you for good.”

I frowned, Triton didn’t tell me much about the camp, but for good?

“For good?”

She turned towards the fire, and I knew from her expression that if I asked her any more questions she would start to cry.

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

I stood on the beach, a storm raging overhead.

I know that I fell asleep, that I was in the bed in the cabin. But now I’m on the beach.

Another one of my dreams? It’s not someplace familiar.

There were two beautiful animals, a white horse and a golden eagle, trying to kill each other at the edge of the surf.

The eagle swooped down and slashed the horse’s muzzle with its huge talons. The horse reared up and kicked at the eagle’s wings.

A low, familiar, chuckle rumbled from beneath the earth. The chuckle from the pit. I could hear whispered goading, urging the two animals to fight harder. The ground rumbled. Sand curled around me. Salt rubbed at my skin, lightning sparked over me.

None of it was there, but the sensations were clear.

I moved toward them, they shouldn’t fight!

“Stop it!” I called, “Stop it Mr. Pit Guy. Stop!”

I was moving so slow, like time was slower for me than for them.

The voice laughed again. “Stand away little Half-Blood,” It crooned. “Let them fight, do not interfere.”

I reached out as the eagle dive down, its beak aimed at the horse’s wide eyes.

I screamed.

I woke up.

For once there was no peaceful sunlight to wake from my dream to, a storm raged outside. Lightning crashed, the wind howled, the waves pounded the dunes.

There was no horse or eagle fighting.

With the next thunderclap, my mom woke. She sat up, eyes wide, and said, “Hurricane.”

It’s crazy, Long Island never sees hurricanes this early in the summer.

But the ocean was like salt rubbing into my skin, rough and course, like there’s an open wound. The lightning was crackling across my skin. My senses are on fire. This was no ordinary storm. And it’s a very bad one.

Over the roar of the wind, I heard a distant bellow, an angry, tortured sound that made my already frayed nerves worse.

Then much closer, another noise, like mallets in the sand. A desperate voice—someone yelling, pounding on our cabin door.

My mom sprang out of bed in her nightgown and threw open the lock.

Grover stood framed in the doorway against a backdrop of pouring rain. But he wasn’t quite the Grover I knew, or… now he was showing the Grover I’d been suspicious of all year.

“Searching all night,” he gasped.

Creepy.

“What were you thinking?”

Obviously that you were out to get me?

My mom looked at me in terror though—she wasn’t scared of Grover, that much was clear. She was scared of why he was here.

“Percy,” she shouted over the storm. “What happened at school? What didn’t you tell me?”

Where should I start!? Why did it seem like I was in trouble? I’ve dealt with everything before! There was nothing really new!

“O Zeu kai alloi theoi!” Grover yelled. “It’s right behind me! Didn’t you tell her?”

Tell her what.

Grover is standing there, a satyr, mom isn’t surprised at all, there’s a storm raging filled with so much blazing power that I’m shocked it didn’t wake me sooner, and no one seems to want to explain anything.

My mom turned to me though and talked in a tone she’d never used before: “Percy. Tell me now.”

I blurted out that Ms. Dodds had turned into a vampire bat lady and attacked me, my mom listening with a deathly pale face, visible in the flashes of lightning that scorched my skin with their power.

She grabbed her purse, tossed me my rain jacket, and said, “Get to the car. Both of you. Go!”

I grabbed my magic bag, and hurried to the car, following Grover.

#percy jackson #PJO #perseus jackson #Grover underwood #grover #sally jackson #percy figures out how to control water young #percy calls himself a waterbender #waterbender percy #pjo aus #pjo fanfic #pjo fanfiction #percy jackson fanfiction #Triton #avatar: the legend of percy #Avatar the legend of percy #avatar fan percy

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valdez-and-the-argo-crew · 4 years

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God!Percy Fic Prologue

Percy, what did it feel like when you were granted godly powers? It must’ve felt great, right?

Ha ha yeah I wish. Firstly, saying the word ‘yes’ alone made my mouth heavy with the taste of lead. When Zeus asked, I said yes with no hesitation Absolutely no second thought. Instantly, I became acutely aware of my mistake, but had no time to correct it before I was hit with a crippling dizziness and searing pain. I did not feel very godly in that moment. I hit the floor and bit my lip, trying to fight back a few screams or moans. Some time passed, probably no more than a second, where I was lying on the throne room floor twitching and whimpering in pain.

Secondly, aside from that physical pain, I could feel Annabeth draw away from me. That much I could tell even without my new godly powers. I could feel Grover behind me look away in shame, and I heard Tyson’s confusion, followed by Annabeth explaining to him what had happened.

Lastly, I could feel my mortality being stripped away. It was not as plenary as it sounds. Think about it as if the atmosphere disappeared but then was replaced by something strange and different. I felt suffocated for a second, vulnerable and weak, before I could breathe again. I breathed in new air, and new life, and could almost see my old self turning to dust.

When I could finally stand, I first looked my father in the eyes before turning to Zeus.

He looked bored.

“Well?” The god asked once a comfortable silence had settled in. The one word echoed throughout the chamber.

”Thank you lord Zeus...” I said, trying to mask my regret.

“Hmph,” Zeus grumbled, shifting in his throne. “Meeting adjourned.”

All the gods got up, feeling the need to mumble their own two cents about my wish. Some supportive, some less than that.

Once all the gods had left— well...all but me, that is... I turned around to face Annabeth’s disappointed face. No, disappointment wasn’t it... it was something else... I carefully studied her grey eyes. They weren’t stormy or fierce or dangerous anymore like I was used to, and what I found comfort in, no. Her eyes were foggy, rainy, and shallow. A single tear rolled down her cheek to prove that point, and that’s when I realized. Annabeth was heartbroken.

“Annabeth, I...”

“What did you do, Seaweed Brain.” She said quietly, turning on her heel and walking out.

Crap.

“Annabeth listen, I’m sorry!” I chased after her, but it became evident rather quickly that no amount of apologizing was gonna fix this.

I stood in the massive doorway to the throne room, feeling isolated and cut off from reality.

“Welcome to god-hood, Johnson,” Came an all to familiar voice from behind. “The biggest mistake you’ll make in millennia.”

I turned to face Mr. D, remembering that he wasn’t born a god either. We both chose this path.

“Do you regret it?” I looked at him, trying to read his face.

“Oh yes, all the time.” He said, pacing back and fourth. “But I’m also grateful. Sometimes, in immortality, you meet someone, whether it be a mortal, a hero, or maybe even another god...but that person will make it all worth it. And in times like those you don’t regret a thing.” He paused and looked at me. “But it’s unlike you to choose this, Percy. Why did you?”

I looked down. “I don’t know. By accident? If I’d thought about it for a second more...”

Mr. D nodded, as if he knew what I was talking about. A beat of silence passed between us.

“I hope you are smart enough to hang on to what matters while it lasts, Perseus.”

With a gentle breeze and the faint smell of grapes, the god before me vanished and I was once again alone.

#percy jackson #poseidon #zeus #hades #grover underwood #pjo #pjoverse #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo fic #god!percy #chb #camp half blood #rick riordan

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flightfoot · 6 years

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Apollo’s pretty terrible at reading people’s thoughts and emotions at first, but becomes an expert at it over the course of the books, once he starts dropping his facades

Apollo is only this good at reading people when he actually tries. At first, he often didn’t put in the effort, and just fooled himself into thinking that they were thinking or feeling what he wanted them to be thinking or feeling.

When Apollo meets Meg, he actually thinks about his own people-reading skills.

My highly advanced people-reading skills told me she [Meg] was hiding something, but that was not unusual for demigods. For children blessed with an immortal parent, they were strangely sensitive about their backgrounds. (THO 20-21).

Apollo wants to believe that having a god as a parent is a great blessing, so he doesn’t really choose to think about what kind of life a lot of these demigods lead, what with often being raised by a single parent, getting kicked out of schools, and being hunted by monsters constantly. He doesn’t care to know, so he doesn’t dig and figure it out.

He also misremembers how much he’s helped Percy.

“But Percy Jackson has always been reliable. You have nothing to fear. Besides, he likes me. I taught him everything he knows.” (24)

He’s only really interacted with Percy four times: when picking up the Hunters in Titan’s curse; when disguised as Fred the Hobo; sort of when he made Rachel the Oracle of Delphi; and when he sent Percy to retrieve his wayward Celadon in Singer of Apollo. And Percy was NOT happy with Apollo after Singer of Apollo. But Apollo wants to be partly responsible for Percy’s successes and he wants everyone to like him, so that’s what he remembers.

Speaking of Singer of Apollo, that short story really shows how little he used to listen to others, and how easily he could be fooled into believing that they are thinking and feeling things that are favorable to him.

“we’re kind of off duty, Lord Apollo. It’s Grover’s birthday.”

“Happy birthday!” Apollo said. “I’m so glad you’re taking the day off. That means you two have time to help me with a small problem!”

He’s not really listening to what Percy has to say here. He’s twisting Percy’s words to mean what he WANTS them to mean, and it’s not like Percy can really refuse him, for fear of incineration.

When Percy and Grover get back from retrieving the rogue Celadon, Apollo offers a reward, which Percy declines:

“Well, good job you two! As your reward, you’re invited to watch me perform on Mount Olympus.”

Grover and I glanced at each other. Insulting a god was dangerous, but the last thing I wanted was to hear more music.

“We aren’t worthy,” I lied. “We’d love to, really, but you know, we’d probably explode or something if we heard your godly music at full volume.”

Apollo nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right. It might distract from my performance if you exploded. How considerate of you.” He grinned. “Well, I’m off, then. Happy birthday Percy!”

Now apparently people exploding while listening to Apollo’s music IS a serious concern, but Apollo still should have been able to tell that Percy and Grover were actually just looking for an excuse to skip the concert... if he had cared to look more deeply into what they were thinking and feeling. Which he didn’t. He didn’t even care enough to remember that it was Grover’s birthday, not Percy’s. I strongly suspect that if post-TBM Apollo could rewatch his interactions with Percy and Grover during this quest, he’d face-palm at how oblivious he was. Or be tempted to punch himself in the face. Or both.

Back in The Hidden Oracle, he IS actually able to read Percy when he meets up with him a short time later, but dismisses his own reading of Percy’s expression, since it’s not favorable to him.

If I didn’t know how much Percy Jackson adored me, I would have sworn he was about to punch me in my already broken nose. (26)

He does this sort of thing a lot throughout THO and TDP, where he reads people and situations accurately, and then tells himself that that can’t possibly be the case. He mostly stops that by the time TBM rolls around, though.

Apollo gets this reading-accurately-and-then-denying-it thing a lot with Percy especially.

“Well, never fear,” I said. “There are always new opportunities to win fame! That’s why I’ve come to you for help!”

He gave me that confusing expression again: as if he wanted to kick me, when I was sure he was struggling to contain his gratitude. (33)

Apollo just can’t seem to accept Percy’s true thoughts and feelings, so he always just goes with the interpretations that’s most charitable to himself, like when Percy mentions that the Oracle isn’t working:

I swallowed back the taste of fear and seven-layer dip. “I just... I assumed - I hoped this would be taken care of by now.”

“You mean by demigods,” Percy said, “going on a big quest to reclaim the Oracle of Delphi?”

“Exactly!” I knew Percy would understand. “I suppose Chiron just forgot. I’ll remind him when we get to camp and he can dispatch some of you talented fodder - I mean heroes -” (47)

I suppose Apollo’s right in that Percy understands what Apollo means. Percy just isn’t thrilled about it, which Apollo doesn’t seem to realize. Or rather, doesn’t WANT to realize. He desires Percy’s respect and even adoration, so he keeps on fooling himself into thinking he has it.

This self-deception doesn’t hold up for very long. He gets better at reading people pretty quickly - especially Meg, since he doesn’t crave her respect or adoration the same way he desires Percy’s, so he’s more willing to take his own reading of her at face value, rather than trying to fool himself. Plus he knows very little about her, neither does anyone else, and she’s not volunteering much. So if he wants to know more about his new master, he has to become really perceptive and good at getting her to open up.

I glanced at the rings on her middle fingers. “So yesterday... those swords. And don’t do that thing.”

Meg’s eyebrows furrowed. “What thing?”

“That thing where you shut down and refuse to talk. Your face turns to cement.”

She gave me a furious pout. “It does not. I’ve got swords. I fight with them. So what?”

“So it might have been nice to know that earlier, when we were in combat with the plague spirits.”

“You said it yourself: those spirits couldn’t be killed.”

“You’re sidestepping” (THO 133)

A little later in the conversation, he’s able to acquire enough hints from her words and expressions to get an idea of what may be going on:

“I never met my mom.” she said. “I didn’t know who she was.”

“Then where did you get the swords? Your father?”

Meg tore her waffle into tiny pieces. “No... my stepdad raised me. He gave me these rings.”

“Your stepfather. Your stepfather gave you rings that turn into imperial gold swords. What sort of man -”

“A good man,” she snapped.

I noted the steel in Meg’s voice and let the subject rest. I sensed a great tragedy in her past.” (THO 134)

Apollo is able to ask just the right questions to get the hint that something is kinda weird about Meg’s relationship with her stepfather, and to get a hint that something traumatic is involved - and also that pursuing that subject would be bad for his health.

When he and Meg end up in Python’s cave, he’s also able to identify that Meg’s more terrified of the man’s voice, than she is of the giant reptile talking to him:

Next to me, in the glow of the apple, Meg seemed to have turned to bronze. Her eyes were wide with fear. A little late for that, but at least she was quiet. If I didn’t know better, I might have thought the man’s voice terrified her more than the monster’s. (THO 168)

Probably the best, and possibly his most important reading of Meg, was when he was able to identify what sort of manipulation Nero had used on her, to get her to obey him.

“Meg had been trained to regard her kindly stepfather Nero and the terrifying Beast as two separate people. I understood now why she preferred to spend her time in the alleys of New York. I understood why she had such quick mood changes, going from cartwheels to full shutdowns in a matter of seconds. She never knew what might unleash the Beast.

She fixed her eyes on me. Her lips quivered. I could tell she wanted a way out - some eloquent argument that would mollify her stepfather and allow her to follow her conscience. (THO 289- 290).

His ability to read both the situation and Meg is crucial to persuading Meg to fight back against Nero, even if it doesn’t last. Plus, it lets him identify much of the basics of what happened to her, even though he’s not outright told, which is useful in his efforts to help her throw off his brainwashing in later books.

Meg isn’t the only person Apollo can read - far from it. In the Dark Prophecy, he’s able to tell that Leo and Calypso have asked to stay at the Waystation:

“Assuming we live through tomorrow,” I said, “you two intend to remain at the Waystation.”

[...]

“How did you know?” Calypso asked.

“The serious conversations with our hosts?” I said. “The furtive glances?” (291)

He’s also able to persuade some blemmyae to blow up the Cave of Trophonious, and that a 5 second timer counts slower underwater. Blemmyae are stupid though, so that’s not as impressive as it sounds.

Over in The Burning Maze, Apollo’s able to read Jason pretty well, despite only having known him for a few minutes. He’s able to tell that Jason’s hiding something.

“All right,” I said. “What did the Sibyl really tell you?”

[...]

“What makes you think I’m holding back?” he asked.

“Please,” I said. “Don’t try to be evasively prophetic with the god of evasive prophecies.” (211)

Piper seems to have an idea that Jason might still be holding something back, but Apollo acts like he knows for sure, and is able to persuade him to open up.

Later in their conversation, Apollo reads the situation between Jason and Piper REALLY well.

“You would’ve let us lead you cheerily off to your death? How would that have affected Piper’s peace of mind, once she found out?”

Jason’s ears reddened. It struck me just how young he was - no more than seventeen. Older than my mortal form, yes, but not by much. This young man had lost his mother. He had survived the harsh training of Lupa the wolf goddess. He’d grown up with the discipline of the Twelfth legion at Camp Jupiter. He’d fought Titans and Giants. He’d helped save the world at least twice. But by mortal standards, he was barely an adult. He wasn’t old enough to vote or drink.

Despite all his experiences, was it fair of me to expect him to think logically, and consider everyone’s feelings with perfect clarity, while pondering his own death?

I tried to soften my tone. “You don’t want Piper to die. I understand that. She wouldn’t want you to die. But avoiding prophecies never works. And keeping secrets from friends... that really never works. It’ll be our job to face Caligula together, steal that homicidal maniac’s shoes, and get away without any five-letter words that start with D.” (214-215)

Apollo’s social skills here, his ability to read Jason, and knowing just what to say here is really impressive. He may have complained in the past about not being a silver-tongued orator anymore, but I’d argue that his skills there have IMPROVED, not lessened. He just needed to get over some of his self-pity and awkwardness first.

Jason’s not the only one he’s gotten good at reading and giving advice to, though. While on board Caligula’s wardrobe boat, he pressed her about the song she sang, “Life of Illusion”, and what it meant to her. That the way she sang the song, she was talking about herself, and her feelings about Jason. He got her to open up.

“I tried,” she murmured. “After the war with Gaea, I convinced myself everything would be perfect. For a while, a few months maybe, I thought it was. Jason’s great. He’s my closest friend, even more than Annabeth. “But” - she spread her hands - “whatever I thought was there, my happily-ever-after... It just wasn’t.”

I nodded. “Your relationship was born in crisis. Such romances are difficult to sustain once the crisis is over.” (263)

Piper confesses that the major problem she had with their relationship was how she had been manipulated and pressured into it by Hera’s and Aphrodite’s machinations, and how she wanted a chance to figure out who she is and what she wants.

“You’re wondering who you are without all the pressure.” (264)

She’s not even sure if she counts as Cherokee, since Cherokee heritage is matrilineal, and her mother is a Greek goddess, not Cherokee. Apollo has some surprisingly profound and comforting words of wisdom for her:

“It’s been my observation,” I said, “that you humans are more than the sum of your history. You can choose how much of your ancestry to embrace. You can overcome the expectations of your family and your society. What you cannot do, and should never do, is try to be someone other than yourself - Piper McLean.” (265)

Apollo now excels at really listening to people and offering comfort and support. He hasn’t done so in the past, either by choice because he didn’t care, or because he honestly wasn’t as good at reading people and seeing what they needed. But now he’s excellent at it, and I suspect that his skill will only improve.

Apollo’s also gotten really good at reading situations to manipulate his enemies, like when his party is captured by some pandai while infiltrating Caligula’s ships.

I scanned the deck. No additional guards were running toward us, no searchlights were trained on our position. No horns blared. Somewhere inside the boat, gentle music played - not the sort of soundtrack one might expect during an incursion.

The pandai had not raised a general alarm. Despite their threats, they had not yet killed us. They’d even gone to the trouble of zip-tying Piper’s and Jason’s hands. Why?

I turned to the largest guard “Good sir, are you the panda in charge?”

[...]

I studied his majestic ears, then hazarded an educated guess. “I imagine you hate people eavesdropping on you.”

Amax’s furry black nose twitched. “Why do you say this? What did you hear?”

“Nothing!” I assured him. “But I bet you have to be careful. Always other people, other pandai snooping into your business. That’s - that’s why you haven’t raised an alarm yet. You know we’re important prisoners. You want to keep control of the situation, without anyone else taking credit for your good work.” (241-242)

Apollo used some pretty limited info, managed to arrive at the correct conclusion, and then manipulated the situation to his benefit (though the others started helping at that point). Even Piper could scarcely have done better!

Later in the scene, when Meg is able to fight back, Apollo’s the one who notices that Crest doesn’t want to hurt them, and is able to persuade him to leave.

With a horrified whimper, Crest dropped his bow. He staggered backward, struggling to draw his sword. Meg yanked her first scimitar from Amax’s dust-covered chair and marched toward him.

“Meg, wait!” I said.

She glared at me. “What?”

I tried to raise my hands in a placating gesture, then remembered they were tied behind my back.

“Crest,” I said, “there’s no shame in surrender. You are not a fighter.”

He gulped. “Y-you don’t know me.”

“You’re holding your sword backward,” I pointed out. “So unless you intend to stab yourself...”

He fumbled to correct the situation.

“Fly!” I pleaded. “This doesn’t have to be your fight. Get out of here! Become the musician you want to see in the world!”

He must have heard the earnestness in my voice. He dropped his sword and jumped through the gaping hole in the glass, ear-sailing into the darkness.

“Why’d you let him go?” Meg demanded. “He’ll warn everybody.”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “Also, it doesn’t matter. We just announced ourselves with a literal thunderbolt.” (252)

Everyone has access to the same info about Crest that Apollo does, and yet Apollo is the one who tries to save Crest, is able to persuade him to retreat, and understands Crest well enough to suspect that he won’t raise the alarm (not that it mattered).

Later on Apollo sees Crest again.

“I think we’re being followed,” I said. “Our friend Crest.”

Piper scanned the night sky. “What do we do about it?”

“I’d recommend nothing,” I said. “If he wanted to attack us or raise the alarm, he could’ve already done it.” (266)

Apollo’s better at reading the situation than Piper is here - probably because he identifies with Crest, music-lover that he is. He’s able to read Crest really well, and make the correct decision. Much like with Meg, reading Crest accurately was key to getting his help later. If Apollo hadn’t been as good as he is, Crest would still be dead, likely murdered by Meg, and Apollo would be gone for good.

Apollo’s people-reading skills have grown so much, from not being able to/not caring to read Percy accurately in The Singer of Apollo, to being able to wheedle out what Jason’s hiding, to giving Piper some excellent support and comfort. I believe that these skills will again prove to be vital in the next book, particularly when meeting Reyna. Nico helped her somewhat, getting her to open up about her father and telling her that she did what she had to do, but they were interrupted before they could really finish their heart-to-heart, and she still hadn’t seemed to have totally come to terms with what happened to her father. I suspect that Apollo will be able “heal her heart”, not by starting a romantic relationship with her, but by helping her put her past to rest and being supportive.

#apollo #lester papadopoulos #TOA centric #trials of apollo #toa #tho #tho spoilers #tdp #tdp spoilers #tbm #tbm spoilers #the trials of apollo #the hidden oracle #the dark prophecy #the burning maze #This took so long to put together and required a few revisions as my plan for it changed #But overall I'm satisfied with how it turned out #I hope everyone likes it!#I'd love any discussion or comments you guys have for it!

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freedomfighterposts · 6 years

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Mornings. Reyna Avila Ramirez-Arellano x Genderless Reader.

Reyna had long ago found that she had a love/hate relationship with mornings. She hated them because it meant that she was forced out of bed to do menial tasks like; allow extra toilet paper for cohort three or break up a fight between a legionnaire and a Huntress of Artemis/Diana. However, Reyna had grown accustomed to forcing herself out of bed for these tasks. She simply loathed this part of the morning, however she hated with a passion the other aspect of the morning. It meant having to leave her precious baby. Yes, the great, unemotional Reyna Avila Ramirez-Arellano had fallen for someone. At first the Roman Praetor had been worried about falling for the dangerous game of love again. But after eleven months of peace, adoration and a surprising amount of surprise kisses, Reyna decided that she had made the right choice. Reyna’s deep seeded hate for mornings appeared one morning as she woke up. Reyna’s eyes fluttered open slowly, a light yawn escaping her plump lips as he legs stretched down to the foot of the bed. The gilded purple covers of her bed felt soft and warm at Reyna’s touch. In this moment, everything was perfect. Birds chirped outside in the warm summer breeze of July. A cloudless sky gave way for Apollo’s sun chariot to spread its rays to the mortal world below. Reyna’s body was warm and lazy, despite her usually ever-present professional exterior, Reyna was often a big teddy bear behind closed doors. A lazy smile formed on the Praetor’s face as she felt someone shuffling beside her. Yes, it had been the first night where Reyna and (Y/n) had decided to sleep together. But the pair wholeheartedly agreed to not perform any extremely intimate acts. The most the two did was kiss… a lot. Reyna felt as if she was addicted to (Y/n)’s kisses. Their full lips felt naturally soft against Reyna’s. Reyna had once tried to slip her tongue inside (Y/n)’s mouth, however this resulted in the Daughter of Bellona receiving the silent treatment for the rest of the week. Reyna didn’t hold it against the child of Hercules though. (Y/n)’s body curled into a fetal position, trying to stay as warm as possible. (Y/n)’s back was pressed against Reyna’s side in an attempt to draw heat from her. Reyna’s smile turned from lazy, into one of adoration as her eyes lingered on (Y/n)’s form. (Y/n) had worm a pair of pajama bottoms with a theme of Lion King. The pair had gotten quite a laugh out of that. (Y/n) also wore a pajama shirt of just plain silver. Reyna however, was more outgoing and comfortable with their relationship. True she had felt guarded and against it at first, but the child of the God of Strength had worn her down. Due to this, Reyna simply wore her undergarments to bed, much to the embarrassment of (Y/n) who wouldn’t stop blushing. But now, in the morning, Reyna wanted nothing more than to simply lay here with (Y/n). However, there were still things that needed to be done. Especially after Gaea’s attack on the camps. Even several months after the seven Heroes of Olympus had defeated the Earth Mother, things were not back to normal. Jason’s incessant badgering for new temples gave Reyna more migraines than Octavian. Usually, Reyna slept next to the edge of the bed so she could quiet literally, roll out of bed in the morning. But she had wanted to be next to (Y/n), and now she was in the middle of the large, king sized bed. (Y/n) turned around, still sleeping. (Y/n) wrapped their arms around Reyna’s waist, a smile tugging at their lips as (Y/n) laid their head against Reyna’s exposed back. Reyna allowed herself a small smile, she bent down and kissed (Y/n)’s forehead gingerly before flinging the covers off herself and stepping from the bed. What Reyna did not prepare for, was (Y/n) waking up. “Reyna?” (Y/n) mumbled sleepily, rubbing their eyes lazily. (Y/n) had felt the disturbance from Reyna flinging the blankets away. “Sorry baby, I didn’t mean to wake you.” Reyna’s soft, melodic voice made (Y/n) feel warm inside. (Y/n) reached out with a hand and clasped Reyna’s hand. “Don’t leave me” (Y/n) whined dramatically. Reyna bubbled out a laugh but silenced herself quickly. “I can’t stay my Flos Pulcherrimus. I have work” Reyna’s heart shattered into a trillion pieces when she saw the tears forming in (Y/n)’s eyes as a pout wobbled on her face. (Y/n) sniffed, trying to keep the tears in. “Fine” (Y/n) spoke, not daring to say more. (Y/n) rolled over so that Reyna was facing (Y/n)’s back. “Flos Pulcherrimus. Don’t be like that” Reyna spoke softly, worried that if she spoke any louder (Y/n) would disappear before her eyes. “Sadness doesn’t look good on you.” But (Y/n) still refused to meet Reyna’s face. Guilt and sadness hit Reyna like one of Jason’s lightning bolts. The pain of making (Y/n) so sad was worse than anything Reyna had felt before. She would gladly face against Orion again if it meant that (Y/n) would be happy. However, Reyna is a duty first love life second kind of girl, so with a bitter sweet kiss to (Y/n)’s cheek, Reyna left the cabin she and (Y/n) shared while at Camp Half-Blood. The Heracles cabin at Camp Half-Blood wasn’t the most loved cabin nor was it the most looked after. Most if not all Demi-gods detested the God of Strength. Even (Y/n), who was normally the sweetest and nicest person around, didn’t like the immortal son of Zeus. Its foundations had been made haphazardly and it was only at the command of Chiron that the children of Vulcan and Hephaestus began reworking the cabin so that (Y/n) wouldn’t nearly be killed by a falling beam in their sleep. Reyna knew what Heracles had done that really ticked (Y/n) off. Usually, the gods and goddesses claimed their children on their thirteenth birthday with a holographic projection of their symbols above the child’s head. Grover had brought (Y/n) to camp when they were fifteen years old and it took the anger of Perseus Jackson and several other key Demi-Gods to finally find out who (Y/n)’s father was. Unfortunately, no one was exactly happy. Especially after (Y/n) learnt from Percy and Annabeth about what Heracles had done to Zoe Nightshade. The temple of Hercules at New Rome also remained deserted. It reminded Reyna of the Neptune temple before Percy had been made Praetor. Old, moldy fruits and nuts sat at the pedestal, cobwebs covered all the corners and pieces of stone crumbled from the lack of attention. Reyna knew it was a sore subject to talk about Heracles in front of (Y/n) so she stayed far away from the subject. Whenever someone talked about how Hercules did something bad, (Y/n) would do nothing to defend him. What Reyna did not know, was that as she left (Y/n) alone in bed that morning Reyna would be in some deep trouble for a long time. Reyna walked into the mess hall at exactly twelve O’clock. After a morning full of paperwork and boring talks with architects and even a talk with Chiron regarding the Mars/Ares inter cabin competition. So, when it was time for lunch. Reyna was more than happy to eat something with (Y/n). However, when Reyna walked over to (Y/n)’s usual spot she found no child of Heracles in sight. Confusion crossed over Reyna’s face as she sat with her friends, the Heroes of Olympus. “Yo, Reyna what’s cracka lacking?” Leo asked cheerfully, Reyna didn’t acknowledge the son of Hephaestus’ childish remark. “Have any of you seen (Y/n) recently?” Reyna as the plate before her filled with sandwiches. “Not that I can think of” Offered Annabeth from beside Percy and Piper. “Oh, I saw (Y/n) at the archery range this morning” Offered Frank. This made sense to the daughter of Bellona, because (Y/n) hated using the naturally inhuman strength gifted by Hercules. Instead (Y/n) favoured the bow, which Reyna knew she disliked because even Jason Grace had been impressed by the way (Y/n) had used an imperial gold combat axe. “Yeah, although (Y/n) did seem really upset. And that’s putting it mildly.” Piper added “Yeah, they just left me hanging this morning.” Percy mumbled as he ate a double decker blue pizza. “Yeah but we all know how… delicate… (Y/n) can be” Hazel defended and her words got Reyna thinking. “Delicate… Oh, by the gods.” Reyna cursed herself silently as she stood, taking her plate of sandwiches with her. “You’ll have to excuse me. I must fix a mistake” With that, Reyna sped walked out of the Mess hall. The Praetor of the Twelfth Legion briskly walked through the newly formed Greek/Roman camp. She passed hundreds of Demi-Gods as she made her way to the beach. Reyna knew that (Y/n) simply adored the ocean. Apparently, (Y/n)’s mother was an open water swimming coach and so (Y/n) and their mortal family often went swimming in the ocean. Reyna’s eyes scanned the golden beach carefully, waves crashed gently across the shore. A evergreen tree grew at the edge of the beach, where grass turned to sand, its branches stretching over the waves. Hidden below the branches, Reyna saw the hunched over form of (Y/n) (L/n). Reyna felt the sand shift beneath her feet as she discarded her sandals. The soft, foaming waves caressed Reyna’s toes as she sat down next to (Y/n). The pair sat in silence, Reyna simply content with being next to (Y/n). “I thought you had work to do” Reyna heard (Y/n) mumble beside her. In response, Reyna scooted closer to the child of Heracles. “I did, I still do. But, I noticed you weren’t at lunch so I brought you some food” (Y/n) looked down at the plate of sandwiches nestled in the sand at her side. The child of Heracles picked a sandwich filled cheese and ham, with only slight hesitation (Y/n) began nibbling on the food. After a while all the sandwiches had been eaten by the pair. “I’m sorry for this morning (Y/n)” Reyna spoke sincerely, not wanting to hurt (Y/n) any more than she already did. “No. It was my fault. I was being selfish and wanted you to myself. I should have known that I couldn’t have the great Reyna Avila Ramirez-Arellano to myself. Especially since you’re Praetor.” Reyna scowled at the use of her full name but said nothing. The pair of demigods just stared across the never-ending, never-beginning ocean, peaceful silence enveloping them both. “You know this is usually the part where you say it isn’t my fault then we kiss and make up” (Y/n) said breaking the silence. Reyna had to bite her tongue hard to force her laughter down. Instead she appeared stoic and serious. “But it is your fault.” Reyna said bluntly, causing (Y/n)’s happiness to drop. “I am a Praetor of the twelfth legion. I oversee the daily routines of over hundreds of demigods, even more now thanks to you Greeks.” Reyna’s heart broke a little as (Y/n) curled into a sitting fetal position, Reyna saw tears threatening to spill from (Y/n)’s eyes. And so, she wrapped her significant other in a tight embrace. Resting her chin on the top of (Y/n)’s head. “However, you are still far more precious to me to leave you alone. Flos Pulcherrimus.” Below Reyna, (Y/n) sniffed a little. “What do you mean?” (Y/n) asked. “I mean… That I think Frank can allow me to sleep in a little later, so long as my baby’s happy” Reyna nuzzled (Y/n)’s neck making the younger demigod blush, (Y/n)’s mouth opened to speak but words quickly turned to moans as Reyna nipped her ear lobe. “Let us finish this in your cabin.” Reyna continued huskily. As Reyna thought back to that fateful day, she couldn’t help but smile. The thought of the huge make out session her and (Y/n) had shared that day was enough to make her extremely happy. So yes, Reyna hated mornings. But she loved them because the look in (Y/n)’s eyes when (Y/n) saw that Reyna was still here was greater than any gift the gods could ever give. Speaking of which, Reyna felt the body next to her shift its position. (Y/n) uncurled from a fetal position and laid their head against Reyna’s covered bosom. Reyna wrapped her toned arms possessively around (Y/n)’s shoulders, letting the sheets fall down into their laps. Reyna’s fingers danced through (Y/n)’s bed hair. (Y/n) could feel the softness of Reyna’s fingers causing their eyes to open slowly. “Good morning Flos Pulcherrimus.” Reyna greeted warmly. A smile graced (Y/n)’s lips, their eyes closing once more. “Good morning to you too αστέρι μου” Although Reyna was not fluent in Greek, (Y/n) and Annabeth had taught her more than enough to know the cute pet names (Y/n) called her. “You have your thinking face on… What were you thinking about?” (Y/n) asked rising from their lying position to sit next to Reyna, both their backs being supported by the wall of Cabin 61. Reyna smiled at the person she adored most. “Nothing kind one. Nothing at all.” She replied sweetly.

#reynaavilaramirez-arellano #reyna #femalereaderinsert #malereader #love #affection #mornings #percyjackson #demigod #heracles #camphalfblood #pipermclean #leovaldez #romance #kisses #lime?

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thewidowsghost · 3 years

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The Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 9

(Y/n)'s POV

It doesn't take me long to pack. I decide to leave the Minotaur horn in the cabin, which leaves me only an extra change of clothes and a toothbrush to stuff in a backpack Grover had found for me.

The camp store loans me one hundred dollars in mortal money and twenty golden drachmas. The coins are as big as Girl Scout cookies and have images of various Greek Gods stamped on one side and the Empire State Building on the other. The ancient mortal drachmas had been silver, Chiron had told us, but Olympins never used less than pure gold. Chiron said the coins might come in for non-mortal transactions - whatever that might mean. He gives Annabeth, Percy, and me canteens of nectar and Ziploc bags full of ambrosia squares, to be used only in emergencies, if we were seriously hurt. It is god food, Chiron reminds us. It would cure us of almost any injury, but it is lethal to mortals. Too much of it would make a half-blood very, very feverish. An overdose would burn us up, literally, Fun.

Annabeth is bringing her magic Yankees cap, which she tells me had been a twelfth-birthday present from her mom. She is also bringing a book on famous classical architecture, written in Ancient Greek, to read when she gets bored, and a long bronze knife, hidden in her shirt sleeve. I'm sure the knife is going to get us busted the first time we go through a metal detector.

Grover is wearing his fake feet and his pants to pass as a human. He wears a green rasta-style cap, because when it rains his curly hair flattened and you can just see the tips of his horns. Grover's bright orange backpack is full of scrap metal and apples to snack on. In his pocket is a set of reed pipes his daddy goat had carved for him, even though he only knows two songs: Mozart's Piano Concerto Number 12 and Hilary Duff's 'So Yesterday,' both of which sound pretty bad on reed pipes.

We wave good-bye to the other campers, take one last look at eh strawberry fields, the ocean, and the Big House, then hike up the Half-Blood Hill to the tall pine tree that used to be Thalia, the Daughter of Zeus.

Chiron is waiting for us in his wheelchair. Next to him stands the surfer dude I'd seen when I was recovering in the sick room. According to Grover, the guy is the camp's head of security. He supposedly had eyes all over his body so he could never be surprised. Today, though, he's wearing a chauffeur's uniform, so I can only see the extra eyes on his hands, face, and neck.

"This is Argus," Chiron tells me. "He'll drive you into the city, and, er, well, keep an eye on things."

I hear footsteps behind us.

Luke comes running up the hill, carrying a pair of basketball shoes. "Hey!" he pants. "Glad I caught you."

Annabeth blushes, the way she always does when Luke is around.

"Just wanted to say good luck," Luke tells us. "And I thought . . . um, maybe you could use these."

He hands Percy a pair of sneakers, which look pretty normal.

Then, Luke says, "Maia!"

White bird's wings sprouted out of the heels. The shoes flap around on the ground until the wings fold up and disappear.

"Awesome!" Grover exclaims.

Luke smiles. "Those served me well when I was on my quest. Gift from Dad. Of course, I don't use them much these days...." His expression turns sad.

Annabeth stomps down the other side of the hill, after arguing with Percy, where a white SUV waits on the shoulder of the road. Argus follows, jingling his car kees.

Percy picks up the flying shoes and then looks up at Chiron. "I won't be able to use these, will I?"

Chiron shakes his head. "Luke meant well, Percy. But taking to the air...that would not be wise for you."

I nod, getting an idea, "Hey, Grover. You want a magic item?"

His eyes light up. "Me?"

Pretty soon, we'd laced the sneakers over his fake feet, and the world's first flying goat boy is ready for launch.

"Maia!" Grover shouts. He gets off the ground, okay, but then falls over sideways so his backpack drags through the grass. The winged shoes keep bucking up and down like tiny broncos.

"Practice," Chiron calls after him. "You just need practice."

"Aaaaa!" Grover goes flying sideways down the hill like a possessed lawnmower, heading towards the can.

But before I can follow, Chiron catches my arm. "I should have trained you two better, Percy, (Y/n)," he says. "If only I had more time. Hercules, Jason - they all got more training."

"That's okay. I just -" I stop myself.

"What am I thinking?" Chiron cries. "I can't let the two of you get away without these." He pulls two pens out of his coat pocket and hands one to me and one to Percy.

Looking down at it, I see a teal-colored gel pen. Maybe cost thirty cents.

"Gee," Percy says. "Thanks."

"Percy, those are gifts from your father. I've been keeping them for years, not knowing you two were the ones I was waiting for. But the prophecy is clear to me now. You two are the ones."

Instinctively I take off the cap, and the pen grows longer and heavier in my hand. In half a second, I am holding a shimmering bronze sword with a double-edged blade, a teal and silver leather-wrapped grip. This is the first weapon that feels balanced in my hand.

"That sword has a long and tragic history that we need not go into," Chiron tells Percy. "Its name is Anaklusmos."

"Riptide," Percy translates.

"I have never seen anyone use that sword that I'm aware of," Chiron says, turning to me. "Yours is named Τυφώνας."

"Hurricane," I translate, surprised that the Ancient Greek came so easily to me.

"Use them only for emergencies," Chiron says, "and only against monsters. No hero should harm mortals unless absolutely necessary, of course, but neither sword would hurt them in any case."

I look down at the wickedly sharp blade. "What do you mean it wouldn't harm mortals? How could it not?"

"Those swords are celestial bronze. Forged by the Cyclopes, tempered in the heart of Mount Etna, cooled in the River Lethe. It's deadly to monsters, to any creature from the Underworld, provided they don't kill you first. But the blades will pass through morals like an illusion. They simply are not important for the blade to kill. And I should warn you two: as demigods, you can be killed by either celestial or normal weapons. You are twice as vulnerable."

"Good to know," Percy says.

"Now recap the pens," Chiron says.

Percy and I touch the pen cap to the sword tips and instantly Riptide and Hurricane shrink to ballpoint pens again. I tuck it in my pocket, a little nervous because it's pretty easy to lose a pen.

"You can't," Chiron says.

"Can't what?" I ask, slightly confused.

"Lose the pens," he says. "They're enchanted. They'll always reappear in your pockets. Try it."

Warily, I throw the pen as far as I can down the hill and watch it disappear in the grass.

"It may take a few moments," Chiron tells us. "Now check your pocket."

Sure enough, the pen is there.

"Okay, that is extremely cool," I admit.

"But what if a mortal sees one of us pulling out a sword?" Percy asks.

Chiron smiles. "Mist is a powerful thing, Percy."

"Mist?" I ask.

"Yes. Read The Iliad. It's full of references to the stuff. Whatever divine or monstrous elements mix with the mortal world, they generate Mist, which obscures the vision of humans. You will see things just as they are, being a half-blood, but humans will interpret things quite differently. Remarkable, really, the lengths to which humans will go fit things into their version of reality.

I put Hurricane back into my pocket.

For the first time, the quest feels real. I'm leaving Half-Blood Hill. I'm heading west with no adult supervision, no backup plan, not even a cell phone - Chiron said cell phones were traceable by monsters; if we used one, it would be no worse than sending up a flare. I have no weapon stronger than a sword to fight off monsters and reach the Land of the Dead.

"Chiron . . ." Percy says. "When you say the gods are immortal . . . I mean, there was a time before them, right?"

"Four ages before them, actually. The Time of the Titans was the Fourth Age, sometimes called the Golden Age, which is definitely a misnomer. This, the time of Western civilization and the rule of Zeus, is the Fifth Age."

"So what was it like...before the gods?"

Chiron purses his lips. "Even I am not old enough to remember that, child, but I know it was a time of darkness and savagery for mortals. Kronos, the lord of the Titans, called his reign the Golden Age because men lived innocent and free of all knowledge. But that was mere propaganda. The Titan king cared nothing for your kind except as appetizers or a source of cheap entertainment. It was only in the early reign of Lord Zeus, when Prometheus the good Titan brought fire to mankind, that your species began to progress, and even then Prometheus was branded a radical thinker. Zeus punished him severely, as you may recall. Of course, eventually, the gods warmed to humans, and Western civilization was born."

"But the gods can't die now, right? I mean, as long as Western civilization is alive, they're alive. So...even if I failed, nothing could happen so bad it would mess up everything, right?" I ask, feeling rather uncertain.

Chiron gives me a melancholy smile. "No one knows how long the Age of the West will last, (Y/n). The gods are immortal, yes. But then, so were the Titans. They still exist, locked away in their various prisons, forced to endure endless pain and punishment, reduced in power, but still very much alive. May the Fates forbid that the gods should ever suffer such a doom, or that we should ever return to the darkness and chaos of the past. All we can do, child, is follow our destiny."

"Our destiny...assuming we know what that is," I say grimly.

"Relax," Chiron tells me. "Keep a clear head. And remember, the two of you may be about to prevent the biggest war in human history."

"Relax," I say. "I'm very relaxed."

When Percy and I get to the bottom of the hill, I look back. Under the pine tree that used to be Thalia, daughter of Zeus, Chiron is now standing in full horse-man form, holding his bow high in salute. Just your typical summer-camp send-off by your typical centaur."

Argus drives us out of the countryside and into western Long Island, It feels weird to be on a highway again, Annabeth and Grover sitting next to me, Percy on the other side of Grover, as if we were normal carpoolers. After two weeks at Half-Blood Hill, the real world seems like a fantasy. I find myself staring at every McDonald's, every kid in the back of his parent's car, every billboard and shopping mall.

"So far so good," Percy tells Annabeth. "Ten miles and not a single monster."

She gives Percy an irritated loo. "It's bad luck to talk that way."

"Remind me again - why do you hate us so much?" Percy asks.

"I don't hate you two."

"Could've fooled me."

Annabeth folds her cap of invisibility. "Look...we're just not supposed to get along, okay? Our parents are rivals."

"Why?" Percy asks.

Annabeth sighs. "How many reasons do you want? One time my mom caught Poseidon with his girlfriend in Athena's temple, which is hugely disrespectful. Another time, Athena and Poseidon competed to be the patron god for the city of Athens. Your dad created some stupid saltwater spring for his gift. My mom created the olive tree. The people saw that her gift was better, so they named the city after her."

"They must really like olives," Percy comments, and I stifle a snort of laughter.

"Oh, forget it," Annabeth grumbles.

"Now, if she invented pizza - that I could understand," I add, in a slightly teasing tone.

"I said, forget it!" Annabeth says, hitting me lightly on the arm.

In the front seat, Argus smiles. He doesn't say anything, but one blue eye on the back of his neck winks at me.

Traffic slows down in Queens. By the time we get into Manhattan, it is sunset and starting to rain.

Argus drops us at the greyhound Station on the Upper East Side, not far from my mom and Gabe's apartment. Taped to a mailbox is a soggy flyer with mine and Percy's picture on it: Have you seen these children?

Percy rips it down before Annabeth and Grover can notice.

Argus unloads our bags, makes sure we get our bus tickets, then drives away, the eye on the back of his hand opening to watch us as he pulls out of the parking lot.

I think about how close I am to the apartment. On a normal day, Mom would be home from the candy store by now. Smelly Gabe is probably up there right now, playing poker, not even missing her.

Grover shoulders his backpack. He gazes down the street in the direction I am looking. "You want to know why she married him, (Y/n)?"

I stare at him. "Were you reading my mind?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Just your emotions," Grover shrugs. "You were thinking about your mom and your stepdad, right?"

I nod.

"Your mom married Gabe for you and Percy," Grover tells me. "You call him 'Smelly,' but you've got no idea. This guy has this aura . . . Yuck. I can smell him from here. I can smell traces of him o you, and you haven't been near him in a week."

"Thanks," Percy grimaces from Grover's other side. "Where's the nearest shower?"

"You should be grateful, Percy. Your stepfather smells so repulsively human he could mask the presence of any demigod. As soon as I took a whiff inside his Camaro, I knew: Gabe has been covering your scent for years. If you hadn't lived with him every summer, you probably would've been found by monsters a long time ago. Your mom stayed with him to protect you. She was a smart lady. She must've loved you a lot to put up with that guy—if that makes you feel any better."

I soften, looking down a the ground. I'll see her again, I think. She isn't gone.

You will be betrayed by one who calls you a friend, the Oracle whispers in my mind. You will fail to save what matters most in the end.

The rain keeps coming down.

We get restless waiting for the bus and decide to play some Hacky Sack with one of Groer's apples. Annabeth was unbelievable at it. She could bounce the apple off her knee, her elbow, her shoulder, whatever. Percy wasn't too bad either, but I found that I wasn't that great at it.

The game ends when I toss the apple towards Grover and it gets too close to his mouth. In one mega goat bite, our Hacky Sack disappears - core, stem, and all.

Grover blushes. He tries to apologize, but Annabeth, Percy, and I are too busy cracking up.

Finally, the bus comes.

I am relieved when we finally get on board and find seats together in the back of the bus, Me and Annabeth in one row, and Percy and Grover across from us. The four of us stow our backpacks.

I glance over at Annabeth beside me, who keeps slapping her Yankees cap nervously against her thigh.

As the last passengers get on, Annabeth claps her hand onto my knee. "Look!"

An old lady had just boarded the bus. She is wearing a crumpled velvet dress, lace gloves, and a shapeless orange-knit hat that shadows her face and she is carrying a big paisley purse. When she tilts her head up, her black eyes glitter.

I see Percy slump down in his seat.

Behind her comes two more old ladies: one in a green hat, one in a purple hat. Otherwise, they look exactly like Mrs. Dodds - same gnarled hands, paisley handbags, wrinkled velvet dress. Triple demon grandmothers.

They sit in the front row, right behind the driver. The two on the aisle cross their legs over the walkway, making an X. It is casual enough, but it sends a clear message: Nobody leaves.

The bus pulls out of the station, and we head through the slick streets of Manhattan.

"She didn't stay dead long," Percy says, his voice quavering a little. "I thought you said they could be dispelled for a lifetime."

"I said if you're lucky," Annabeth murmurs. "You're obviously not."

"All three of them," Grover whimpers. "Di immortales!"

"It's okay," Annabeth says, obviously thinking hard. "The Furies. The worst monsters from the Underworld. No problem. No problem. We'll just slip out the windows."

"They don't open," Grover moans.

"A back exit?" she suggests.

There isn't one. Even if there had been, it wouldn't have helped. By that time, we are on Ninth Avenue heading for the Lincoln Tunnel.

"They won't attack us with witnesses around," I say. "Will they?"

"Mortals don't have good eyes," Annabeth reminds me. "Their brains can only process what they see through the Mist."

"They'll see three old ladies killing us, won't they?" Percy asks.

She thinks about it. "Hard to say. But we can't count on mortals for help. Maybe an emergency exit in the roof . . . ?"

We hit the Lincoln Tunnel, and the bus goes dark except for the running lights down teh aisle. It is eerily quiet without the sound of the rain.

"I need to use the rest-room."

"So do I."

All three demons start coming down the aisle.

"I've got it," Annabeth says. "Percy, take my hat."

"What?" he says with disbelief.

"You're the one they want. You killed one of them. Turn invisible and go up the aisle. Let them pass you. Maybe you can get to the front and get away."

"But you guys -"

"There's an outside chance they might not notice us," Annabeth says as she glances over at me. "You're a son of the Big Three. Your smell might be overpowering."

"I can't just leave you," Percy says, looking desperately at me.

"Go," I say, frowning and Annabeth hands him the cap.

The old ladies are not old ladies anymore. Their faces are still the same - I guessed they couldn't get any uglier - but their bodies had shriveled into leathery brown hag bodies with bat's wings and hands and feet like gargoyle claws; their handbags had turned into fiery whips.

The Furies surround me, Grover, and Annabeth, lashing their whips, hissing: "Where is it? Where?"

The other people on the bus are screaming, cowering in their seats. They see something, all right.

"He's not here!" Annabeth yells. "He's gone!"

The Furies raise their whips.

Annabeth draws her bronze knife. Grover grabs a tin can from his snack bag and prepares to throw it.

Word Count: 3222 words

#percy jackson x sister reader #percy jackson reader insert #female reader #reader insert #fem reader

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