lordofthewild

[lordofthewild]

[lordofthewild]

NEW PERCY JACKSON CLIP

[lordofthewild]

NEW PERCY JACKSON CLIP

[lordofthewild]

*vibrating at a frequency that could shatter glass* yeah I'm super calm about this information

[lordofthewild]

Silly comic of my silly kids

[lordofthewild]

New look at Percy Jackson season 1 (source)

[lordofthewild]

[lordofthewild]

THEY’RE LOST IN THE WOODS SOMEWHERE IN NEW JERSEY AND—

[lordofthewild]

Percy strolling into his 8am class after his 7th quest-related excused absence because the "gods just won't give him a break haha" vs his roman classmates that have not been given the time a day by a single god once in their entire life

[lordofthewild]

Not Chalice of the Gods continuing the trend of Percy having no clue how his own sword works, six years and two wars into having owned it.

Iconic.

[lordofthewild]

THE MAIN TRIO in Percy Jackson And The Olympians (2023)

[lordofthewild]

and what if i throw up about it????

[lordofthewild]

never realized how big chiron is until they put him next to a bunch of 12 year olds

[lordofthewild]

the only Percy Jackson adaptations i care about

[lordofthewild]

the way the camera has percy looking so small and just staring up at the impossible height of his namesake looming over him, blessed by the gods, triumphant in battle, glorious in his memorial.....meanwhile percy (the cooler perseus) shows us the reality of being a demigod -- small, confused, just trying to get by, standing in the shadow of mythology

[lordofthewild]

to preserve the heart

// Grover Underwood & Percy Jackson & Annabeth Chase // Grover Underwood & Sally Jackson // Grief and Mourning // Implied/Referenced Character Death (but as we all know he wasn’t dead) // The Hobbit References // Hurt/Comfort // happy ending i promise! // 12.5k

ao3

—————

November.

The late-autumn sun has long since set and the birds have long since fled back to their nests when the green analog clock of the microwave flashes bright throughout the kitchen, releasing a canned and screechy beep.

It’s far too old, like much of the “modern” technology of the Big House, probably edging up on thirty years old. Grover manages to get to it before it can let out another ungodly squeak and wake up Chiron, who would undoubtedly have questions as to why Grover is reheating Sally Jackson’s vegetarian enchiladas at two in the morning. Considering he’s Lord of the Wild, he wouldn’t be under any obligation to tell Chiron, but ten years of working for the man has made Grover susceptible to things like his no-bullshit stare and crossed arms.

Grover quickly transports the glass tupperware from the microwave to the polished concrete surface of the kitchen island, grabbing a fork and sitting down.

The Big House is silent around him; Chiron, Argus, and Dionysus are fast asleep at the dead of night, and the guest rooms and house infirmary lie empty. He can hear occasional wing beats from the Harpies, easing through their nightly patrols, and out the kitchen window the strawberry fields stretch out into the night. The only light comes from the moon and the occasional torches placed along the pathways, the bright yellow-white glow of the kitchen lights an outlier. For once in his life Grover’s glad to be awake at this hour; no battle or injury or nightmare to shock him into his body, just the dark peace that comes after war and the landscape extending far beyond him.

He takes a bite of the enchiladas—the Jackson family recipe, passed down generation after generation, which Grover swears one day he will get his hands on—and picks up his pen, staring at the blank sheet of his notebook in front of him.

His mind slips.

He can feel it. Water and oil, his thoughts and emotions bead against each other as if they are some child’s homemade lava lamp, shaken, taking over his vision. They dance, they swing, swirl and swish. And then they separate.

It’s painful.  

Grover grapples at the kitchen counter, like he could recongeal his brain if he could just hold it hard enough, and then it’s all falling out of his grasp—water and oil are natural repellents, he knows—and away. Grover is left gasping for breath, Sally’s enchiladas on the floor, broken glass scattered on the island, and his hand bleeding.

A minute later, clutching his bleeding hand under the faucet of the kitchen sink, Grover realizes that the presence in the back of his mind that had been sleeping calmly has disappeared. He paws at it, mentally; gropes for the impression of the calmness and warmth of sleep and something that has always felt in his brain like the smell of freshly ground cinnamon mingling with petrichor—but there is only something blank, something white, something missing.

Percy.  

He can’t feel Percy.

He sinks to the kitchen floor.

Keep reading

[lordofthewild]

percy annabeth and grover go though an Ordeal like none other to get the three letters of recommendation, only to have them not count due to being from greek gods instead of roman