#✧˚ · . ( muse ; apollo jackson )

[dannygonz08]

Incorrect Quote #2: "Just Friends"

Note: Again disclaimer, this is based loosely off from the Athenide AU of @anotheroceanid and Of The Fountain by @chaoticdumbassrogue . Incorrect quote based on the Fixer Upper by Disney's Frozen.

Apollo (groaning): Stop it, stop it, stop it! Enough We're just friends, okay?!

(The muses and Hermes exchange glances.)

Clio: So she’s a bit of a fixer-upper,

Calliope: That’s a minor thing!

Hermes (grinning): Your quote "friendship", is a flex arrangement...

Erato (pointing at Perse's hand): And by the way... I don’t see no ring.

[audreyscribes]

Ω PJO MISC. DEMIGOD HEADCANONS:🎭MELPOMENE: MUSE GODDESS OF TRAGEDY🍇

a/n: When you start cooking with Satyrs and Goats and start being sneaky in this. Also we're back with our favourite (only) Camp Director, Mr. D! [PJO MISC + MUSE DEMIGOD H/CS MASTERIST: [AO3] \\ [TUMBLR]

Alright out of the muses, you have the flair for dramatics, particularly for the macabre variety. You’re often described as being dramatic yet very serious in your pose. How, no one knows but you pull it off.

Melpomene is the Muse of Tragedy, and while you know all of William Shakespeares’ tragedies not only Romeo & Juliet and Macbeth, you’re very good at remembering Julius Caesar, Timon of Athens, and Titus Androncius, you’re first and foremost familiar with the Ancient Greek Tragedies of Sophocles, Euripides, and Aeschylus.

In terms of play and theater management, you’re the one leading it most of the time out of the muses and in turn, you’re the one who interacts with Mr. D the most. Not surprising because particularly Greek Tragedy, were also used as ritual rites while both being carried out by and dedicated to Dionysus so if anything he’s going to have a few says. He’s the Theatre director and you’re the producer basically; or the other way around. It gets confusing sometimes.

Despite Mr. D’s casual reference they used to sacrifice goats, you came to a compromise: the goat would be used as a mascot for the plays and theaters, instead as a sacrifice, but in turn you would allow any Satyr to take any part if they chose to.  

In terms of weaponry, your preferred weapon is the sword as Melpomene is portrayed holding a sword. Alongside though, you’re also known to wear a mask into battle, another of Melpomene’s symbols. 

What no one expects is that you insist on wearing boots. Not just any boots like rainboots or uggs, but Buskin boots or something similar to Cothurnus boots; boots that go to at least your knee or half way up your calves as Melpomene is shown wearing them. You have a large variety of boots that fit any occasion and you can smoothly walk across the stage and fight just as well even in your platform boots. Many Aphrodite children and even Ares children ask for tips how you wear these boots so well. 

The Sirens could also be considered your half-siblings which explains somethings as your chanting during your theater productions charms the soul of your listeners, and also explains many of the tragedies the Siren orchestrate in front of them as they tempt sailors to their deaths. On the other hand, your singing/chanting reveal your audience the themes of human nature and the dealings with mortal rights and wrongs, thus giving them enlightenment in each individual.

What is unexpected is that because of your knowledge in tragedy, that deals human nature, moral rights and wrongs, and your in depth knowledge of Sophocles and Euripedes, you’ve also become a person who provides great psychological and philosophical thoughts and discussion. Mr. D has given you some coaching in peoples’ mental healths and dreams, so you’re not alone with that responsibility.

You’re often approached by Apollo children who want a couple of insights in their patients, approached by the Athena children for some deep thought, and in general, you often hold a theater session about these subjects. 

[perseabeth]

The Promise of the Wild Sea

< this is not an official fic yet, i had this AU in my mind for a while, and now i got the time to write few parts of it. if the story was to your liking, i might get encouraged to make it an official fic. i’d like to remind you that i do not own any of the characters, as they all belong to the original myths and Rick Riordan. except for the oc Callista. however, i made some alternation in the myths that could benefit my story. i hope you like these changes. also this is a fem!percy version. enjoy reading >

- 1184 BCE, The fallen city of Troy -

Apollo stood in front of Callista’s pyre, the flames not yet lit, his gaze fixed on her lifeless face. Her once radiant beauty now drained, her cheeks no longer flushed with the color of life. Her hair, dark as the starless night, framed a visage that seemed at peace, a peace she had found only in death. Yet, she had stolen his peace with her departure, leaving him hollow and bereft.

With painstaking care, he had smoothed away every bruise, every mark of the cruelty she had endured, wishing to present her to the underworld in the full splendor of her glory. His Callista, his heart. He clutched the two drachmas in his hand, the coins a symbol of her final journey, but to him, they were a cruel reminder of his eternal separation from her. How could he consign her to the underworld, knowing he would be condemned to an eternity without her by his side?

His soul ached with a grief that seemed too vast to contain. With a trembling breath, he placed the drachmas on her closed eyes, sealing her fate, preparing her for her voyage to the underworld. She deserved a realm free from the sorrows of war and the sting of death, a place of peace and light. He swore on his immortal soul that she would find solace in Elysium.

Apollo leaned down, his tears falling like rain upon her serene face, pressing a final kiss to her cold, unresponsive forehead.

“Farewell, my Callista... until we meet again, my angel.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun god cradled her cheeks in his trembling hands, his soy blue eyes filled with the agony of days spent pleading with his uncle, the merciless lord of death, for this moment. She was there in his embrace, radiant as the true princess she was, her beauty untouched by the shadows of the underworld. Her black hair cascaded down her back like the soft night sky, a dark tapestry embroidered with stars in silken threads. Her eyes, those mesmerizing sea-green eyes, gazed up at him—the very eyes he had yearned to kiss open one last time before cruel fate tore her away.

But nothing unfolded as he had hoped.

"My lord," Callista whispered, her eyes shining with boundless love for the man before her. She wore a white, elegant chiton that clung to her form with an ethereal grace, adorned with a delicate laurel crown—a vision of Trojan royalty. Apollo shook his head, refusing to accept the words forming on her lips. "No, you are coming with me," he implored, tears welling up in his sky-blue eyes, each drop a testament to his anguish. He was begging, pleading for her to return with him to the world of the living.

The princess before him shook her head gently, her gaze unwavering. "No, my lord, I am dead. I am happy here," she said softly. She took his palm, still cradling her cheek, and pressed a tender kiss upon it, as if sealing their fates with that simple, heartbreaking act. "You must respect the rules of death, my love. You must go on and find happiness in the lands of the living."

Her words stabbed his heart, despite the delicateness of her voice, despite the sweetness of her words, and despite the loveliness of her eyes. She was pushing him away, each word like a dagger twisting deeper.

Callista looked at him again, her gaze filled with a sorrowful resolve. "I'm with my family, and you should be with yours. Lord Zeus will not be tolerable when he hears that you brought me back from death."

Apollo tried to reason with her, desperation lacing his voice. "But Uncle Hades has already accepted," he argued, only to be met with another tender kiss on his palm from Callista.

"I'm not letting you get into an argument with your father," she replied softly. She lifted her hand and gently caressed the strand of his hair falling on his forehead. Her melodic voice continued, soothing yet heartbreaking. "You will live on. You will find happiness again, I'm sure."

"My happiness is with you only," he insisted, his voice breaking.

But Callista only shook her head with a sad smile. "That's what you're saying now, because the pain is so new. But trust me, my love... time will go on, life will go on." She looked into his eyes, her determination unyielding. He knew there was no way to change her heart. She gave him a beautiful smile that could have brightened his days if not for their situation. "You did all you could. You made sure I found my final rest in a beautiful place. Now it's your turn to let go... to move on."

Apollo's tears threatened to fall, threatening to drown his eyes. He did the only thing he could do in that moment; he planted a soft, small kiss on her lips, a goodbye kiss filled with all the sorrow of a love that could never be. It was a kiss that spoke of unending longing and the crushing weight of farewell.

He would never force her to do anything. If she was happy, he would be happy, even if it meant an immortal lifetime of his heart shattering every day he remembered that she wasn't waking up next to him.

His time in the underworld was ticking away, leaving him with precious few moments to spare in the arms of his beloved. How cruel fate is, he thought, that even time refuses to grant him a longer respite to find peace in her embrace one last time.

He kissed her forehead once more, a goodbye kiss—the same kiss he had planted on her brow the day of her pyre, the day they consigned her body to the flames in a solemn ritual of farewell. He looked into those beautiful eyes one last time. "I swear to you, I’ll always find you in the stars, in the calm oceans, in the beautiful sunlight, in the warm flames, and in the serene mountains. You will always haunt me, forever haunt my life, Callista."

This earned him a sad smile from her beloved face, and he realized he loved all her smiles except this one. "Who knows, maybe someday you will find me again, amidst the moors or maybe in the wild sea."

He nodded, a silent nod, as a single tear traced a path down his cheek. He kissed her hands one last time and turned his back, leaving his beloved, leaving his heart, leaving the bane of his soul in Elysium, where she belonged. Before he stepped away, he turned to her one last time. "Someday, I’ll find you in the wild sea."

With that, Apollo left the underworld, each step a testament to the immortal lifetime of sorrow that awaited him, a sorrow he would bear for the love he could never truly hold again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

- December, 2007. New York City-

"And now, sis. Transportation for the Hunters, you say? Good timing. I was just about ready to roll.

"These demigods will also need a ride," Artemis said, pointing to us. "Some of Chiron's campers."

"No problem!" Apollo checked us out. "Let's see... Thalia, right? I've heard all about you."

Thalia blushed. "Hi, Lord Apollo."

"Zeus's girl, yes? Makes you my half sister. Used to be a tree, didn't you? Glad you're back. I hate it when pretty girls turn into trees. Man, I remember one time—"

"Brother," Artemis said. "You should get going."

"Oh, right." Then his gaze landed on me, and his eyes widened with a mixture of shock and recognition, as if he had glimpsed a long-lost memory. The once vibrant blue of his eyes now bore golden freckles, a haunting reminder of his divine nature. "Callista?"

I met his gaze, my heart pounding with confusion and uncertainty. Was he mistaking me for someone else, someone from his past? “No. I mean... no, sir."

Calling a teenager "sir" felt awkward, but I knew better than to offend an immortal. They were known to have volatile tempers, and tended to get offended easily. Then they blew stuff up. and now Apollo seems to be on verge of blowing things up, or me perhaps.

His silence stretched on, his eyes still fixed on me, probing and searching. It was as if he was peering into my soul, unraveling the layers of my being with each passing moment.

Eventually, his gaze shifted to his sister, Artemis, who offered him a subtle shake of her head. Their silent exchange felt like a wordless, deep conversation, conveying a depth of understanding that transcended spoken words. Apollo cleared his throat, breaking the tension that hung in the air, before turning his attention back to me.

His gaze shifted abruptly from sheer confusion to a myriad of emotions I couldn't quite pinpoint. It reminded me of the way my mom once described my reaction to blue cookies or a serene beach—a mix of wonder and longing. Yet, as he looked at me, I saw something more. His eyes, now a crystal-clear sky blue, brimmed with an affection that seemed to encompass the entire world. It was a strange sensation, one that left me feeling oddly nervous, knowing that he was a god who could unleash his power at any moment. If it were anyone else, I might have blushed under their gaze. But facing a god for the first time, unsure if he was friend or foe, left me feeling unsettled rather than flustered.

"Percy Jackson," Apollo's voice cut through the tense silence like a blade. For a moment, it felt as though time itself had frozen, as if I were caught in a web of his penetrating gaze. I nodded silently. Then, without a word, he turned away, his attention shifting back to the group. The weight of his gaze that seemed to convey the burden of centuries, left me unsettled.

"Well!" he exclaimed in a cheerful voice again, as if the past few moments were nothing, breaking the silence. "We'd better load up, huh? The ride only goes one way—west. And if you miss it, you miss it."

—

i’d love to hear your opinion about this.

[cabin7quotesandtweets]

Twitter Profiles Part 3: Gods Edition

Apollo, Asclepius, Aristaeus, Hymenaios, Ialemus, Chariklo, Cephisso, Apollonis, Borysthenis, and the The Samothrakian Korybantes

Note: A lot of Apollo's godly children are disputed. Like, so many. So, I used my own judgement to choose who to pick. After the profiles I will give a brief description of everyone's domains, plus their other parent, with some extra notes from me.

Domains

Άπόλλων (Apollo): the sun, light, music, archery, healing, disease, poetry, protection over young (specifically boys), civilization, reasoning and logic, knowledge, and herding

Άσκληπιός (Asclepius): Son of Coronis and Apollo; medicine

Άρισταῖος (Aristaeus): son of Cyrene and Apollo, older brother to Idmon; bee-keeping, cheese-making, olive-growing/olive oil manufacturing, herding, hunting, countryside and pastoral places

Note: I haven't made Idmon a profile, as he isn't a god. He was a seer and an original Argonaut and died on the trip. Maybe I will though, who knows?

Ύμεναιος (Hymenaios), also called Hymen: son of one of the Muses (though disputed which one, usually Terpsichore, Urania, or Calliope) and Apollo; weddings, bridal hymns

Note: other sources claim his parentage is Magnes and Clio, or Dionysus and Aphrodite

Ίάλεμος (Ialemus), disputed sources say he's an epithet of Linus: son of Calliope and Apollo; lamentation, funeral songs

Note: Ialemus' existance is disputed, as to whether he is a epithet of Linus or a full personificafion of funeral songs. According to some sources in Argive, Linus was the child of Apollo and Psamathe and was killed as a baby by rabid dogs. In revenge, Apollo sent a poine to kill the Argive children, and it wasn't until Coroebus killed the poine and founded a dog killing holiday called Arnis that Linus and Psamathe were worshipped. Other sources in Thebes have his parents being Urania and Amphimarus, and was killed by Apollo for claiming to be his equal. Lastly, he was described as Heracles' music teacher, who slew him in a fit of rage while being reprimanded. Take of that what you will.

Χαρικλώ (Chariklo): daughter of Apollo, no second parent named; wife of Chiron, foster-mother to the heroes whom Chiron mentored

Note: Chariklo is also said in a few sources that her father is Perses or Oceanus, but the comedic value of Apollo beings Chiron's father-in-law is too great to pass up. And most sourses agree she's Apollo's kid. Fun fact though, the planet Chariklo from the Centaur planets is named after her, and another one is named Chiron.

Κηφισω (Cephisso), also called Nete: daughter of Apollo, sister to Apollonis and Borysthenis; one of the Muses Apollonides

Note: the Muses Apollonides are not to be confused with the nine muses of the arts, or the Titan Muses.

Άπολλωνις (Apollonis), also called Mete): daughter of Apollo, and sister to Cephisso and Borysthenis; one of the Muses Apollonides

Βορυσθηνίς (Borysthenis), also called Hypate: daughter of Apollo, sister to Cephisso and Apollonis; one of the Muses Apollonides

Note: Fun fact, their second names: Nete, Mete, and Hypate are after the lowest, middle, and high notes of the lyre

Κυρβαντες (The Samothrakian Korybantes): sons of Apollo and Thalia; a seven group of rustic daimons who presided over the Samorhrakian mysteries, and were attendants to the Mother of the Gods

Note: Wow, the myths on these guys are so disputed they don't even have a set of names. Other parentage options include Zeus and Calliope, or Apollo and Rhetia. Some sourses say there's seven, with two others who are children of Hephaestus (the Cabeiri) to make a group of nine, some say there's nine total. They're named after an orgiastic dance, that to be honest, I am fine not knowing anything about. Additionally, some say they're from Asia (west Asia or Anatolia, which makes up much of modern day Turkiye) and were attendants to Cybele, the Magna Mater of Anatolian mythology, but she is sometimes identified with Rhea when she was adopted by Greece, hence why I made them attendents of Rhea. Some sources also associate them with Leto.

[werentwethesaltinthesea]

Never read PJO in my life chat, but honestly, the cabin idea is kind of cool?? It reminds me of the idea-post of therian summer camps where the cabins would be themed after the environment of the animal they were. It's cute in an awkard way, I guess?? Especially for a book with what I assume to be killer lore!!!

The cabin layout from images ive seen is like my mental image of hellenic pagan teens I'm moots with,,, moot camp village looking thing,,,

most times out of 10, I've got a mental image of online communities in my mind, and honestly, the cabin concept fits!! /pos

[unaside]

now imagine apollo and the muses performing sticky

[moonlitwoven]

Radiance of the Sun ☀️

Apollo Introduction Post

"I am the light that shines across the heavens, the fire that burns with truth, the pulse of inspiration that ignites the world."

Full name: Apollo Age: Timeless (Appears in his 20s) Role: God of the Sun, Music, Poetry, Medicine, and Prophecy

Appearance: Apollo radiates with a golden aura, his eyes gleaming with the brightness of the sun itself. His dark skin contrasts with his ethereal glow, and his smile can be as dazzling as the sun rising over the horizon. Apollo has a stylish, modern look, often donning sharp suits or casual, yet fashionable clothing that reflects his divine nature.

Personality: Apollo is confident, charismatic, and undeniably charming. He has the passion of the sun itself and a quick wit that can light up any room. While often seen as playful and fun-loving, Apollo carries the weight of immense responsibility as a god. He has an innate need to protect those he loves but is also driven by an unyielding desire to inspire creativity and bring truth to the world. Beneath his confident exterior, however, there’s a vulnerability rooted in his prophetic role, constantly aware of fate’s pull.

Powers/abilities:

Sunlight Manipulation: Apollo can control light and energy, channelling the sun's rays for both destruction and healing.

Prophecy: As the god of prophecy, Apollo can foresee future events, though not without the burden of knowing.

Healing: Mastery over medicine, able to cure diseases or mend wounds with a touch of his hand.

Backstory: Apollo’s legacy spans millennia, but even as an immortal god, he remains bound to the lives of mortals through the art of creation. Despite his divine origins, Apollo loves exploring the human world, drawn to the creative spirit, especially in the fields of music, literature, and art. He’s always searching for new ways to inspire others to reach for greatness, often with a mischievous, enigmatic air.

Faceclaim: Ncuti Gatwa Theme: Sunlight, Creativity, Prophecy

[annoyinghyperandtired]

I just realised I'm not a child of Apollo I'm a child of Erato

Goddess of lyrical, love and erotic poetry; one of the nine muses of inspiration and creativity lead by Apollo

[reuben-7991]

fuck the canon rachel elizabeth dare can belt like there’s no tomorrow

this girl belts like darla dimple from cats don’t dance

let her slay she is talented in many of the fine arts

[barbie-necromancer]

One of the pros of reading Percy Jackson as a whole ass adult is that my third eye is open when reading these books and I don’t get disappointed when I pick up the new book(s) because I suddenly discover they were middle grade books this whole time.

The new books honestly do hold true to the story/vibe of the originals. Its just that they are written for middle grade so they will always have a middle grade feel to them

Because I got to experience these all as an adult, I see the value this book has in a 6th graders hands as well as meet the story on its level.

Because I KNOW it wasn’t written FOR me any more, I recognize I missed my window to grow up with the series. But at the same time I am glad I did because I don’t know if I personally would have been able to continue with it if I had grown up and out of it.

[dcrkcrwns]

character tags pt 1.

[cece693]

Hey!! I wanted to make a request for Percy x (male reader) son of Apollo

The reader is mainly good at writing and drawing, and enjoys using Percy as his muse for his works.

Thank you, take all the time you need 🙇

Shades of Green and Gold

pairing: percy jackson x maler reader tags: you are kinda a stalker, returned feelings, first kiss, percy is too handsome for the reader, you can legit write sonnets about percy, cute but kinda creepy

You’re reasonably sure that no one else in Camp Half-Blood spends as much time admiring Percy Jackson’s hair as you do. You won’t deny it, because who could blame you? There’s something about the way he grins, the way his sea-green eyes light up when he’s on the verge of a clever remark, or the way he ruffles his hair after a long day of training. It’s enthralling. You’re an artist—writing, sketching, painting—son of Apollo, heir to creativity and light. And Percy Jackson is your favorite muse.

Every morning, you wake early to catch the exact moment the sun spills over the lake, painting the surface with soft pinks and gold. You slip out of the Apollo Cabin carefully, trying not to wake your rowdy half-siblings. You carry a small sketchbook and pencil in your hand, charcoal in the other. The crisp morning air still bites, but there’s something comforting about that quiet, in-between time.

You settle on a flat rock near the canoe lake. From here, you can watch the water, the line of cabins, and if you’re lucky—Percy Jackson heading off to breakfast or morning training. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve drawn him: in graphite, in watercolor, with ink. Half-finished poems about his eyes litter your journal.

Today is no different. As soon as you spot Percy, you can’t help but smile. He’s dragging a sword behind him, hair sticking out in all directions, still yawning. He’s adorable. You press your pencil to the page and start outlining his silhouette. The curve of his shoulders, the lines of his arms…You’re so focused that you barely notice when he turns and catches your gaze.

Percy raises his eyebrows in obvious curiosity. You flush, snapping your sketchbook shut, but it’s too late—he’s already jogging over. “Morning,” he says, grin slowly turning more playful. “Am I interrupting?”

You swallow and manage a small laugh, hugging the sketchbook to your chest. “Not at all. Just…practicing.”

He nods towards your pencil. “I see. Gonna show me sometime?”

Your heart beats louder than a battle drum. “Maybe…eventually.”

Percy’s grin grows. “I’ll hold you to that. See you at breakfast?”

You nod, and he jogs off, leaving you with that dopey, starstruck feeling you’ve never quite gotten used to. By the time you arrive at the Arena for combat practice, the midday sun is high and fierce—Apollo’s domain. You tie your golden camp shirt around your waist (much to your instructor’s dismay), opting for a lighter white tank top. Sweating profusely while you train with a bow is not your ideal way to spend an afternoon, but your father’s gift—unerring aim—doesn’t sharpen itself.

Chiron pairs you with Percy for a quick sparring session. It’s supposedly to “expand your skill set,” but you wonder if it’s the universe giving you more material for your sketches. You try to steady your heart as he flashes you another signature grin.

He wields his trusty sword, Riptide. You draw your bow, focusing on the center of the target behind him, but your eyes can’t help drifting to the lean lines of his arms. You almost feel guilty. Almost.

“All set?” Percy calls, pushing his dark hair out of his face.

“I’m ready,” you answer, stepping into position.

The session starts strong. You manage to keep your arrows close to the mark, even as Percy deflects them with impressive skill and a flurry of water from a nearby barrel. You can sense he’s showing off a bit—it’s Percy, after all. You grin. His confidence is infectious, and soon the two of you are exchanging friendly banter.

When you pause to catch your breath, Percy flicks water droplets from his blade in your direction. You splutter, trying not to laugh. He shrugs with an impish twinkle in his eye.

“Heard you’re a good artist,” he says casually, striding forward until you can see the slightest hint of sweat at his temples. “Piper told me your last painting of the Apollo Cabin was amazing.”

Your cheeks heat. “It’s nothing big.”

“From what I hear, it’s a big deal,” Percy insists, stepping closer. The space between you is suddenly charged. “Will you show me your work someday? I mean it this time.”

“Sure.” You feel the sun warm you from above, the presence of your divine father giving you a little nudge of courage. “I’d like that.”

That evening, the sky burns a vivid orange as the sun descends behind the strawberry fields. You find yourself on the porch of the Big House, perched on a bench, scribbling in your notebook. You wanted to capture the memory of Percy deflecting your arrows, to freeze the moment onto the page with just the right words.

“Still practicing?” Percy’s voice comes from behind you, startling you so badly you almost drop your pencil.

“Percy! I—”

He doesn’t wait for you to form a coherent sentence; he slides onto the bench next to you. The fading sunlight catches the green in his eyes, setting them aglow. His presence is warm and all-consuming, even though the day is cooling down.

“Sorry to sneak up on you,” he says. “Thought you might be here.”

You let out a small laugh. “It’s fine. You just startled me.”

He nods toward your notebook. “May I?”

You hesitate. The words in that notebook are deeply personal. Poems about his eyes, the curve of his smile, your fleeting impressions of each encounter. But there’s something in Percy’s earnest expression that calls you to trust him. With trembling fingers, you pass the notebook over.

He flips through carefully, eyes scanning the lines of your writing. He stops occasionally, lips moving with the words, eyebrows quirking up at certain phrases. You sense your entire being is in that notebook, and he’s reading you like a story. It’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

When Percy finally looks up, his eyes are strangely bright. “You wrote these…about me?”

You pull your gaze away. “I guess you could say you inspire me.”

He’s silent for a moment. You dare to look up and see a smile, soft and genuine, tugging at his lips. “It’s good. Like…really good. I had no idea I could be someone’s muse.”

You exhale a nervous laugh. “I, uh…I can show you the drawings, too, if you want.”

Percy nods, looking more interested than ever. “Definitely.”

You lead Percy to the Apollo Cabin and slip inside. Your siblings are out—probably at the campfire or racing chariots—leaving the bunks and scattered musical instruments in a hush. You rummage beneath your bunk, pulling out a battered portfolio.

It’s stuffed with sketches—some finished, some half-done. A watercolor of Percy standing by the lake. A charcoal piece of him gripping Riptide. A gentle pencil sketch focusing on just his face…his eyes, to be precise. You lay them out across your bunk. Percy stands behind you, so close you can practically feel the warmth radiating off him. You swallow, heart pounding, as he takes in each piece.

“They’re amazing,” he breathes, leaning down to pick one up. “I never realized—this is how you see me?”

You can’t quite meet his eyes. “There’s something about you, Percy,” you admit. “Your energy, your aura. You’re like the sea itself—constantly shifting, alive with motion. It inspires me. Helps me write, helps me draw. I never wanted to freak you out, so I kept it mostly to myself.”

Percy gently returns the piece of artwork to your bunk, then turns you around by the shoulder so you’re facing him. His hand lingers, thumb brushing over the fabric of your shirt.

“I’m not freaked out,” he says. “I’m flattered, honestly.” He chuckles, eyes scanning your face as though he’s searching for any hint of uncertainty. “No one’s ever done anything like this for me.”

You feel a burst of warmth in your chest. “Really?”

“Really.” Percy exhales a soft laugh, letting his hand drop to your wrist. “I like it. And I’d like to see more—whatever you make. If that’s okay.”

You search his expression, uncertain if you’re reading the situation correctly. The glimmer in his sea-green eyes suggests you might be. Mustering your courage, you nod slowly. “You can see everything,” you say, voice hushed in the quiet cabin. “I—I’d really like that.”

His smile widens. “Thank you.”

You swallow, that same unstoppable grin blossoming across your own face. The tension thickens, but it’s a gentle tension, a comforting one. He leans forward, and you feel his forehead against yours, that sweet, electric moment of closeness you’ve been imagining for weeks.

Finally, your lips brush softly, uncertain at first. Then Percy returns the kiss, delicate yet full of promise. It’s the kind of quiet moment that you know you’ll replay over and over in your sketches, in your poems, in your daydreams. When you finally pull away, you can’t help but laugh in disbelief. Percy gives a contented sigh, resting his forehead against yours again.

“Would it kill the mood if I told you I knew about this?"

[audreyscribes]

Ω PJO MISC. DEMIGOD HEADCANONS: 💃TERPSICHORE: MUSE GODDESS OF LIGHT VERSE AND DANCE, CHORAL SONG AND DANCING🩰

a/n: I had to double back in mythology notes of which muse gave birth to which race/person for this one again. *puts head in hands* Mythology would not be what it is if they didn't have occasional lack of concrete details either.

[PJO MISC + MUSE DEMIGOD H/CS MASTERIST: [AO3] \\ [TUMBLR]

Alright out of all the muses’ demigods, you are the best dancer out of them and it’s not uncommon for you to dance while playing simultaneously. If you need a reference how well, look up Lindsey Stirling and how she dances while playing her violin.

That said, you are also known for really dancing even while fighting, in fact, if you are so inclined to, you may have the talent for Sword Dancing.

You can of course play the Lyre but in this case, Terpsichore is often depicted also playing with a Plectrum, which is basically a guitar pick. So in theory, you can also play the guitar like its second nature to you. You can also somehow play the lyre like it's a guitar or with the pick so there you go. Or any stringed instrument that uses a plectrum, like the Shamisen.

With your inhibited need to dance and move your body, the actions of your dancing help with exaggerated tones as you play your instrument. 

The Sirens are technically your half-sisters so you may also have the same ability like them or something similar to you; something along the lines of a  shared effect that your musical talents can provide those with a sort of enlightenment and can draw people in into a lull. Be careful when you’re performing as you sing and dance because you will be able to hypnotize your audience into a frenzy.

You don’t have to worry too much about your siren like qualities though because around your other muse cousins or those who are used to magical musical enchantments, i.e. Apollo kids, they’re used to this kind of thing and can gently nudge you into breaking the hypnotization. Most of the time though around them, their music helps negate the effects, though you can boost the effects if need be around them. 

What no one says is that you might have a soft spot in the eyes of Persephone and in turn, Demeter or Hades, depending on the situation. This is because of the Sirens, who are Terpsichore’s children were Persephone’s handmaidens before the events of Hades. Therefore you can be found around the children of Demeter and the children of Hades. (Demeter was also the ones who turned the Sirens into bird-like beings to search for Persephone, so that’s why you don’t have any avian qualities). 

[pumpkinbxtch]

— nosebleed ｡⁠:ﾟheadcanons

who is here: percy jackson, jason grace, frank zhang, leo valdez & apollo/lester

warnings: mentions of nosebleeds, swearing

a/n: It just occurred to me, I'm sorry, I just got a nosebleed and I'm my own muse.

Percy:

You are talking to your wonderful boyfriend about things about the sea and a drop of blood literally falls from your nose, Percy is literally asking if you are okay, if you want water.

Out of nerves, he starts to tell when his nose bled, and he almost exterminated to the world as if you had not been there.

“PERCY, I WAS THERE, FUCK PASS ME PAPER.” you scream, stopping drops of blood with your hands

And he runs to the bathroom for it.

Jason:

This man is very thoughtful, he is literally the first to realize that a drop of blood is about to come out of your nose.

“Honey” he calls you and the drop falls.

But he is a cautious man, and he takes paper out of his pocket. He cleans you and checks that you are okay.

“Do you feel bad?” he asks you for like the tenth time.

“Calm down, I'm fine,” you reply for the tenth time.

Still, Jason controls the air in your direction to cool you down.

and gives you kisses on your knuckles

Frank:

Frank doesn't let you react, he's already picked you up and is taking you to Apollo's cabin (if you're at camp)

or anywhere with doctors or nurses who can check you out.

He runs like his life depends on it (because for him, it does)

“frank, honey it's just a nosebleed”

“HEMORRHAGE” He screams like it's the end of the world and he ends up running even faster.

When they tell him you'll be fine, he continues checking on you for the rest of the afternoon.

Leo:

When you notice the blood touching your lip, you immediately stand up and make sure with your hand that it doesn't fall or dirty your clothes.

Leo looks at you and looks for a handkerchief, screaming and spinning around, then the idiot realizes that he literally has a magic belt and takes a handkerchief out of there.

When you are cleaning yourself, you feel wet tissues on your forehead and neck.

“It's because of the heat!” Leo says and as he gives you a nervous smile.

“I wish I could be Jack Frost right now” sure you smile at him, and he looks very confident, but he's really worried.

After a while, Leo's anxiety becomes even more apparent. “Are you stressed?”

“Leo, I'm fine” and he nods

but changes your tissues whenever they need more fresh water.

Apollo / Lester:

He is literally shouting and waving his hands.

then remember that he is the god of healing

He laughs lightly and does his magical things on you.

"You need a break" he says with a deep frown.

super god doctor mode activated

"yes yes" you say while he makes a tourniquet for your nose.

He taps you on the nose and kisses you on the cheek.

he knows that no one can take better care of you.

[dreamdragonkadia]

do you have like anything for like a apollo reader with percy? like sometimes the reader usually use percy as a muse and percy asked them how they are good with art and the reader just shrugs and tells him that she was always good at it like maybe a hint that she was always an a apollo kid before arriving at camp? i think this is such a cute request

This request was so freaking cute! Apollo is absolutely that parent who wholeheartedly approves of his kids dating Percy—like, no hesitation, full-on cheerleader mode. Hope you all enjoy! p.jackson/apollo!reader

Every child of Apollo was different. Their father had a wide range of talents—music, poetry, archery, healing—and his kids were no different. Some got the medical genius, like Will Solace, who could patch up a broken bone before most people even realized it was broken. Others were master archers, their hands steady even in the middle of battle.

And then there was you.

Healing? You could slap a Band-Aid on someone and call it a day. Archery? Let’s not talk about how many of Chiron’s training dummies had been “accidentally” skewered in all the wrong places. But the arts? That was yours. Truly, enviously, yours.

You had a gift—one that made your half-siblings tilt their heads and squint at your paintings like they were trying to figure out how a bunch of colors on a canvas could breathe. Because your art wasn’t just realistic—it was alive. Not literally (at least, you were 90% sure it wasn’t), but something about the way you painted made people pause, like they expected the figures to move.

Percy was one of those people.

He was stretched out in the grass next to you now, propped up on his elbows, watching as you worked on a painting of him. You knew he was trying to play it cool, but the way he kept stealing glances at your sketchbook betrayed him. His expression wavered between curiosity and something dangerously close to awe.

Finally, he broke the silence. "How are you so good at this?"

You glanced at him, then back at the canvas, tilting your head as you considered your response. "Natural talent?"

Percy scoffed. "No way. I’ve seen some of the Apollo kids try to paint, and they do not make people look this—this…" He gestured vaguely at the painting, at himself, then back at the painting. "This real."

You dipped your brush into the paint and smirked. "Maybe you're just easy to paint, Jackson."

He snorted. "Please. I can barely take a good photo, let alone get a whole masterpiece out of it."

You shrugged, then reached out, placing your hand under his chin with gentle pressure. His skin was warm under your fingertips. You tilted his face slightly, angling his eyes just right, studying the way the afternoon light caught in them. His pupils flickered to you, surprised but not pulling away, and for a second, neither of you moved.

Then, satisfied, you let go and turned back to your painting, adding a touch more light to the green of his eyes on the canvas. "I’ve just always been good at it."

"Yeah, but, like… even before camp?"

That made your brush pause for just a second.

Because, truthfully, yeah. Even before Camp Half-Blood, before you had ever stepped foot into Cabin Seven, you’d been like this. Art had never been something you learned—it had always felt more like something you remembered. Something already in your bones, in your fingertips. You had always been able to see the light in people, the colors that made them them, long before you knew who your father was.

So you gave a small, knowing smile and said, "Yeah. Even before camp."

Percy studied you for a moment, like he was waiting for you to elaborate. You didn’t. But he didn’t press, just let out a huff, staring at the sky.

You turned your attention back to your painting, only for Percy to very obnoxiously scoot closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. His black curls tickled your neck, and you huffed out a laugh.

"Comfortable?" you asked, rolling your eyes as you adjusted your brush.

"Very," he said smugly, voice muffled against your skin. He shifted, pressing his cheek against yours, all warm and solid. "What are you gonna do about it?"

You pretended to think, then dipped your finger in blue paint and smudged it onto his nose.

Percy jerked back with an offended squawk. "Did you just—"

"Yep." You smirked, wiping your hand off on your jeans. "And now you're part of the painting. Congrats."

Percy rubbed at his nose, only succeeding in smearing the paint further. "You suck."

"You sat on me, Percy. What did you expect?"

"A little kindness? A little mercy? A little love from my amazing girlfriend?" He dramatically flopped onto his back, hands over his face. "This is how I die. Betrayed. Marked for life by blue paint."

Rolling your eyes, you reached over and gently flicked his forehead, making him yelp. "You'll live, drama queen."

He grumbled something under his breath, then—before you could react—stole your brush right out of your hand and booped your nose with the tip.

Now you were the one spluttering. "Percy!"

"Payback." He grinned, sitting up and twirling the brush between his fingers like he had just won some grand battle. "How’s it feel, Picasso?"

You wiped at your nose, glaring at him even as you fought back a smile. "Hope you know you just declared war."

Percy’s grin widened. "Oh, bring it on, sunshine."

And maybe you did. Maybe that painting session turned into a full-blown art war. Maybe there was way more paint on you two than on the actual canvas by the end of it. But at some point, when you were both out of breath and covered in streaks of color, Percy reached over, smudged some orange paint on your cheek, and muttered, "You really are amazing at this, y’know?"

The words were quiet, a little softer than before. No teasing, no sarcasm—just Percy, being Percy.

And that, more than anything, made you smile.

[leaawrites]

Valentine's day kisses

Percy Jackson x Daughter of Apollo reader

Warnings: fluff, kisses, valentine's day mentioned,

Summary: Percy brings flowers in hope of getting a Valentine

For everyone who needs a bit of love today! I love and appreciate you all so dearly <3

Masterlist

The first thing she woke up to was a fresh Bouquet of flowers beside her bed. Y/n looked around the room, trying to figure out who the mysterious sender was. No one looked at her in a way that told her they were it, they all only looked at her in expectation. None of her brother’s or sisters knew who had smuggled the flowers in here. Or more importantly, who was crazy enough to sneak into the Apollo cabin before dawn to surprise someone.

Apollo kids were always the first to wake, but not today. Today it was someone who wasn’t too afraid of potentially getting caught, but too bashful to admit that they were it.

“Looks like you’ve got a Valentine,” Laura chirped in from across the other side of the cabin, making the others laugh.

Y/n looked down, flowers in her hand, cheeks growing red. Whoever it was, she wanted to know who they were.

“Are you going to find out who it was?” It felt like Laura could read her mind. That wasn’t the first time it happened. She already did it when Y/n stared into the distance at one of their traditional campfires.

“He’s cute, I know. But stop thinking about him,” she told her back then.

“Who are you talking about?” Y/n asked since she wasn’t looking at anyone in particular.

“The new kid. Peter?” Laura guessed his name wrong.

“Percy,” Y/n corrected her.

She guessed wrong on purpose.

Y/n looked at her best friend, she knew her all too well.

“Of course, I will,” she answered confidently. Even though she had no idea where to start. “But where?”

“What is with outside the cabin?” Another camper said as he walked through the door.

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows at 1. How he knew about what they were talking about and 2. What he meant by it. The girl pushed her blanket away from her body, freeing her legs from the heat. The cold morning air hit her bare skin the moment she stepped outside the cabin. Everyone was watching her as she walked outside. She had no idea who or what would be outside, until she saw Percy Jackson leaning against the wall of Cabin 7.

“Percy Jackson,” she mused. “What brought you out here this early?”

“So, you like them?” He asked, partly answering her question, when only vague.

“You slipped the flowers beside my bed?” Y/n asked holding his gaze. She was always someone who would look the person she was talking to in the eyes out of respect.

“Happy Valentine’s day.” He smiled at her like a innocent boy.

Y/n laughed at him and his unusual shyness. He acted all relaxed when he was still leaning against the wall, but now that he’s face to face with the girl he secretly admired, the words left his mouth. There was no other sound coming from his vocal chords but a small laugh when he heard hers.

“Thank you,” she said, kissing his cheek in gratefulness. “What about, I get dressed and then we could go down to the lake or so?” She asked, trying to stop the tension between them.

“Yes,” he answered, smiling at her still. “Or you could teach me how to use bow and arrow?”

“I’m not sure if that will end well,” she said, amused at the memory of his first try with the gear.

“I mean, I’m a fast learner,” he shrugged, playing the embarrassing off with a cool facade.

“Sure you are,” Y/n said, before disappearing again into her cabin to get dressed for the day ahead.