#AND LATER ON WITH THE WHOLE PERCY THING UNDER THE SEA WITH THE SEA STORM GODDESS JASON MAKES HER STOP THE STORM BY PROMISING HER AN ALTAR

[pjohoo-reclists]

The Lightning Thief Era Rec List

In light of the first season of the PJO TV Show coming out and the flood of new fanfics that followed, here's a list of fic recs over 5k that are set in that time period. The corresponding list with fic recs under 5k is here (link TBD). These fics do not contain spoilers for the later books/seasons.

The Love of the Sea by amythestusmoon

G | 6.5k | Complete

Sally Jackson/Poseidon, Percy Jackson & Poseidon, Percy Jackson & Sally Jackson

Pre-The Lightning Thief, Family Bonding, Protective Poseidon

Poseidon knew, deep down, the moment his child was conceived. Could feel the spark of it, the way he had for millennia before. Could feel the sea reaching for its newest progeny. This child would be strong, it knew it. He knew it. It had to be. He had brought a curse upon it for his own selfishness, and he knew one brother, at least, would punish the child for his broken oath as well. When Perseus was born, Poseidon felt it spark in his heart. He felt the currents of the sea around him dance, rejoicing with him.

leaving like a father (running like water) by avesy

G | 6.6k | Complete

Percy Jackson & Poseidon, Sally Jackson & Poseidon, Percy Jackson & Sally Jackson

Family angst, Pre-The Lightning Thief, Good Parent Poseidon

After fathering a forbidden child, Poseidon is forced to watch Percy grow up from afar. No matter how painful the distance is, there is an endless list of those who would want to harm him—monsters and gods alike—and Poseidon knows he needs to keep him separate from that world for as long as possible. But when Zeus’ Master BoIt is stolen and Percy has become the prime suspect, Poseidon quickly finds that he can no longer outrun Fate.

Across the Hall by Deerlie_03

T | 7.8k | Complete

Percy Jackson & Sally Jackson

POV Outsider, Percy Jackson needs a hug, Pre-The Lightning Thief

The lives of the Jackson family pre-The Lightning Thief as told by a mortal neighbour who wants nothing but the best for the young woman who recently moved in across the hall, pregnant and without anybody in her life, and her unborn son

Neon Lights Verse by rycbarm123

T | 11k | Complete

Percy Jackson & Poseidon, Percy Jackson & Triton, Percy Jackson & Hermes

Seafam, background abusive Gabe Ugliano, Murder

Percy has a very bad, no good life after his stepfather enters the picture. It goes from bad to worse, and no one is in his corner. Thing is, he also apparently has a whole other side of his family he didn't know about.

Of Storms and Bloodlines by inkncoffee

G | 13k | Complete

Percy Jackson & Poseidon

Canon Compliant, Father-son Relationship, Bonding with Animals

When people thought of Poseidon they thought of the sea; Poseidon, Lord of the Seas, Commander of the Waves, the Stormbringer. Upon consideration they would add Earthshaker, for catastrophic events such as earthquakes were hard to forget. Few remembered, however, that Poseidon was also Lord of the Horses. Stormbringer and Earthshaker tended to squeeze that one out. Percy had been able to talk to horses for as long as he could remember. He liked to think he understood them. Although he's not entirely sure why the new stallion thinks he's its foal. Poseidon is not jealous that Percy thinks a horse makes a better father figure than himself. At all.

forbidden things have a secret charm by phoenix_flying

T | 18k | Complete

Percy Jackson & Luke Castellan, Percy Jackson & Annabeth Chase, Percy Jackson & Alabaster Torrington

Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Good Luke Castellan, Book 1: The Lightning Thief

That was his first day at Camp Half-Blood. He wished he’d known how briefly he would get to enjoy his new home. OR percys days at camp half blood but different

bring the forgotten dawn by poisedwalrus

G | 22k | Complete

Percy Jackson & Annabeth Chase, Percy Jackson & Grover Underwood, Percy Jackson & Nico di Angelo

Time Travel, Unreliable Narrator, Annabeth is ready to kill a god

“What is it?” Grover asks, “What’s with that weird look on your face?” “Just trying to figure out if turning me in will get us enough bounty money to buy our way to LA.” Percy says, craning his neck towards the news van. “We are not turning you in to the police.” Grover presses his head back into the alleyway. “Why not?” Percy says. They could use a bit of cash. “You guys can just break me out afterwards, right?” Annabeth looks like she’s considering it. “No, guys,” Grover says. “No.” If Percy has to spend the rest of his life cleaning up after the gods, then he might as well start from the beginning.

The Trade AU by Triscribe

T | 29k | Last Updated March 14, 2024

Percy Jackson & Poseidon, Percy Jackson & Thalia Grace, Luke Castellan & Annabeth Chase & Thalia Grace

Poseidon loves Percy, Protective Thalia Grace, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

“Thalia Grace,” said the man, the god, as the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. “Your father has just killed someone I cared very deeply for. I’m here to make certain he doesn’t do it again." Shit. Before Thalia or Luke or Grover could react, the god reached behind him, and pulled out- -a kid. A little kid, no bigger than Annabeth. A boy with curly blonde hair, and red-rimmed eyes, who stared at the four of them with the sort of dazed expression that belonged on people just rescued from the wreckage of natural disasters.

Trading Tomorrow by Darkmagyk, loosingletters

T | 44k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Luke Castellan, Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase, Percy Jackson & Annabeth Chase

Time Travel, Quests, Brotherhood

Percy Jackson arrives at Camp Half-Blood bruised and bleeding, with the knowledge that he's the son of a god and his mother is dead. His little display with the Minotaur has caught the attention of the camp. But he’s not sure it is good attention, yet. Only the Hermes Cabin's not-quite Co-counselor Theseus, ‘call me Theo,’ doesn't treat him like a fascinating zoo exhibit. Which would be a relief, except he looks exactly like Percy: same green eyes, same trouble making smile, same black hair. The only differences are the fact that Theo is six years older, covered in battle scars, and the black tattoo on his arm. A trident and the letters SPQR. Theo is eighteen, powerful, and unclaimed. And his resemblance to Percy could set a dangerous precedent.

The Constriction in Breathing Air by DustShattersLikeGlass

G | 51k | Complete

Percy Jackson & Poseidon, Percy Jackson & Sally Jackson, Percy Jackson & Annabeth Chase & Grover Underwood

Smart Percy Jackson, The gods like Percy, BAMF Percy Jackson

New York was doused in rain. A category five hurricane touched down out at sea. An underwater earthquake followed; tectonic plates shifted; water was sucked away from the shorelines. Warnings were sent to surrounding coastal cities. A hospital in Manhattan remained unaffected. There was no panic in the air and a bubble of safety around the building. Nurses chatted as they worked, talked about the rain, talked about the storm, talked about the beautiful, haunting newborn in room 316 whose heart worriedly stuttered anytime he was away from his mother. The room was quiet. The mother slept. The baby, born too late for mortals but too early for anything else, was awake, staring at the ceiling from his cocoon of wires and blankets. A drop of water ran from the faucet, and as it hit the sink it formed. A Greek God, ancient and old, powerful and wild, condensed into the form of a mortal. He looked fondly on the woman, before stepping to the cradle and looking down at his son. Cresting waves met the depths. “Hello Perseus,” Poseidon, the Earthshaker, Stormbringer, Father of Horses, rumbled, his voice layered with blessings and ancient rites. “Welcome to the world, μικρός μου Πρίγκιπας των Θαλασσών.”

Stolen Lightning by undeath230

M | 64k | Complete

Percy Jackson & Thalia Grace, Percy Jackson & Luke Castellan, Thalia Grace & Luke Castellan

Competent Chiron, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Thalia Grace

Percy Jackson thought he was a normal kid. That was until one fateful day at a museum changed his life permanently. He wasn't sure about it at first, but now he is. He definitely didn't want to be a half-blood.

Son of the Sea God by KeeganageeK

G | 102k | Complete

Percy Jackson & Annabeth Chase & Grover Underwood, Percy Jackson & Poseidon, Percy Jackson & Sally Jackson

Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Percy raised by Poseidon, Powerful Percy Jackson

In one world, Poseidon offers to build Sally Jackson a palace under the sea. When she refuses, Sally is left to raise her son by herself in the mortal realm. But what if there was another way? In a different world, Poseidon cannot bring himself to leave his new family and stays to raise his son, Perseus Jackson. Now Percy faces a war between the gods, a new camp with new people, and a quest all the while keeping his past a secret.

[kookie-doughs]

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader -Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 5: COMING TO CAMP

I woke up feeling sore all over, but what I heard and saw made no sense, so I just passed out again. I remember lying in a soft bed, being spoon-fed something that tasted like buttered popcorn, only it was pudding. A short-cropped blonde haired guy hovered over me, looking down at me. When he saw my eyes open, he asked, "How are you feeling?" I managed to croak, "What?" "Are you feeling better?" "I guess," I mumbled, "I don't... where's Percy?" Somebody knocked on the door, and the guy slowly set the pudding down. "I'll see you when you're better." He smiled. The next time I woke up, the guy was gone.

When I finally came around for good, there was nothing weird about my surroundings, except that they were nicer than I was used to. I was sitting in a deck chair on a huge porch, gazing across a meadow at green hills in the distance. The breeze smelled like strawberries. There was a blanket over my legs, a pillow behind my neck. All that was great, but my mouth felt like a scorpion had been using it for a nest. My tongue was dry and nasty and every one of my teeth hurt. On the table next to me was a tall drink. It looked like iced apple juice, with a green straw and a paper parasol stuck through a maraschino cherry. My hand was so weak I almost dropped the glass once I got my fingers around it. "You're awake," a voice said. A blonde girl was leaning against the porch railing, looking tired and done. She was wearing blue jeans, Converse hi-tops and a bright orange T-shirt that said CAMPHALF-BLOOD. "I should call the others," she said. "Where's Percy?" "He's talking with Mr. D." "Is he well?" "You've been through worse," She said with her eyebrows knitted(?). "And the first thing you ask is your friend?" "Percy, should—" "I'll tell the others." She looked at me one last time and left. I stared across the meadow. There were groves of trees, a winding stream, acres of strawberries spread out under the blue sky. The valley was surrounded by rolling hills, and the tallest one, directly in front of us, was the one with the huge pine tree on top. Even that looked beautiful in the sunlight. Without Percy's presence I was reminded of everything I lost. Everyone I care about. "Hey," A voice behind me called. "Annabeth passed by and told me you're awake. Feeling better?" "Oh, hey." I smiled weakly. "Feelin real peachy." "Luke, Luke Castellan." "Y/N L/N..." We stayed quiet for a minute. "I'm sorry for what happened. I don't exactly know what went on but..." Looking at him, I gave him a sad smile, "Thanks... I guess. Even I'm not sure what went on honestly... I don't know what's going on." "Well, I'm not exactly much of an explainer so, we just gotta wait for Chiron." "I... remember everything. From the moment the sea pulled me, to loosing my parents and dog, to bringing us here... I just... don't understand..." I suddenly felt dizzy, my vision swimming. "Don't strain yourself," Luke said. "Here." He helped me hold my glass and put the straw to my lips. I recoiled at the taste, because I was expecting apple juice. It wasn't that at all. It was (Favorite Food or F/F). Liquid F/F. And not just any F/F—my mom and dad's special F/F. Drinking it, my whole body felt warm and good, full of energy. My grief didn't go away, but I felt as if my mom and dad had just pet my head, fed me F/F the way they used to when I was small, and told me everything was going to be okay. Before I knew it, I'd drained the glass. I stared into it, sure I'd just had a warm drink, but the ice cubes hadn't even melted. "Was it good?" Luke asked. I nodded. "Are you feeling better now? "Yeah," I said. "Thanks." "That's good," he said. "That's good. I don't think you could risk drinking any more of that stuff." "What do you mean?" He took the empty glass from me, as if it were dynamite, and set it back on the table. "Y/N!" I turned to the voice and saw Grover. "Hey, Luke." "I'll take it they want her?" Grover nodded. "I'll see you later." Luke smiled and ruffled my hair, then left me with Grover. Grover watched Luke leave then turned to me, "Come on. Chiron and Mr. D are waiting." The porch wrapped all the way around the farmhouse. My legs felt wobbly, trying to walk that far. I asked him where Percy was and he said he was already there. As we came around the opposite end of the house, I caught my breath. We must've been on the north shore of Long Island, because on this side of the house, the valley marched all the way up to the water, which glittered about a mile in the distance. Between here and there, I simply couldn't process everything I was seeing. The landscape was dotted with buildings that looked like ancient Greek architecture—an open-air pavilion, an amphitheater, a circular arena—except that they all looked brand new, their white marble columns sparkling in the sun. In a nearby sandpit, a dozen high school-age kids and satyrs played volleyball. Canoes glided across a small lake. Kids in bright orange T-shirts like Grover's were chasing each other around a cluster of cabins nestled in the woods. Some shot targets at an archery range. Others rode horses down a wooded trail, and, unless I was hallucinating, some of their horses had wings. "Y/N!!" I was engulfed and tackled which almost made me fall. Percy looked at me with sad eyes, holding unto the Minotaur horn. He looked tired and sick. "Are you okay Percy?" He nodded and rested his head on my shoulder. Down at the end of the porch, two men sat across from each other at a card table. The blond-haired girl that I woke up to was leaning on the porch rail next to them. The man facing me was small, but porky. He had a red nose, big watery eyes, and curly hair so black it was almost purple. He looked like those paintings of baby angels— what do you call them, hubbubs? No, cherubs. That's it. He looked like a cherub who'd turned middle-aged in a trailer park. He wore a tiger-pattern Hawaiian shirt. "Hate to break your touching reunion but we were talking." The man said. "That's Mr. D," Grover murmured to me. "He's the camp director. Be polite. The girl, that's Annabeth Chase. She's just a camper, but she's been here longer than just about anybody. And you already know Chiron..." He pointed at the guy whose back was to me. First, I realized he was sitting in the wheelchair. Then I recognized the tweed jacket, the thinning brown hair, the scraggly beard. "Mr. Brunner!" I cried. The Latin teacher turned and smiled at me. "Ah, good, Y/N," he said. "You're awake. Percy couldn't focus since he was worried of you. He woke up an hour before you. Care for a game of pinochle?" He offered me a chair to the right of Mr. D, who looked at me with bloodshot eyes and heaved a great sigh. "Oh, I suppose I must say it. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. There. Now, don't expect me to be glad to see you." "Uh, thanks." I turned to Percy who looked at me confusedly as well. "Annabeth?" Mr. Brunner called to the blond girl. She came forward and Mr. Brunner introduced us. "This young lady and Luke nursed you back to health, Y/N. Annabeth, my dear, why don't you go check on Percy and Y/N's bunk? We'll be putting him in cabin eleven for now." Annabeth said, "Sure, Chiron." She was probably my age, maybe same height, and a whole lot more athletic looking. With her deep tan and her curly blond hair, she was almost exactly what I thought a stereotypical California girl would look like, except her eyes ruined the image. They were startling gray, like storm clouds; pretty, but intimidating, too, as if she were analyzing the best way to take me down in a fight. She glanced at the minotaur horn in Percy's hands, then back at him. I felt a bit iffy and got closer to Percy. She turned to me and said, "You should thank Luke." Then she sprinted off down the lawn, her blond hair flying behind her. "So," Percy said, anxious to change the subject. "You, uh, work here, Mr. Brunner?". "Not Mr. Brunner," the ex—Mr. Brunner said. "I'm afraid that was a pseudonym. You may call me Chiron." "Okay." Totally confused, I looked at the director. "And Mr. D ... does that stand for something?" Mr. D stopped shuffling the cards. He looked at me like I'd just belched loudly. "Young woman, names are powerful things. You don't just go around using them for no reason." "Oh. Right. Sorry." "I must say, Percy, Y/N," Chiron-Brunner broke in, "I'm glad to see you both alive. It's been a long time since I've made a house call to a potential camper. I'd hate to think I've wasted my time. And I am quite surprise to recruit two." "House call?" "Recruit two?" "My year at Yancy Academy, to instruct you. We have satyrs at most schools, of course, keeping a lookout. But Grover alerted me as soon as he met you. He sensed you were something special, so I decided to come upstate. I convinced the other Latin teacher to ... ah, take a leave of absence. And when the mist hadn't worked on Y/N, Grover and I thought she saw through the mist." "Mist?" "It's... something." "You came to Yancy just to teach me?" Percy asked. Chiron nodded. "Honestly, I wasn't sure about you at first. We contacted your mother, let her know we were keeping an eye on you in case you were ready for Camp Half-Blood. But you still had so much to learn. Nevertheless, you made it here alive, and that's always the first test. As for Y/N..." He looked at me skeptically then to Mr. D. "You're... still scentless." "Grover," Mr. D said impatiently, "are you playing or not?" "Yes, sir!" Grover trembled as he took the fourth chair, though I didn't know why he should be so afraid of a pudgy little man in a tiger-print Hawaiian shirt. "You do know how to play pinochle?" Mr. D eyed me suspiciously. "I'm afraid not," I said. "I'm afraid not, sir," he said. "Sir," I repeated. I was liking the camp director less and less. "Well," he told me, "it is, along with gladiator fighting and Pac-Man, one of the greatest games ever invented by humans. I would expect all civilized young men to know the rules." "I'm sure the girl can learn," Chiron said. "The other kid was bad, I doubt this one can do better." "Please," Percy said pulling me closer to him, "what is this place? What am I doing here? Mr. Brun—Chiron—why would you go to Yancy Academy just to teach me?" Mr. D snorted. "I asked the same question." The camp director dealt the cards. Grover flinched every time one landed in his pile. Chiron smiled at us sympathetically. "Percy," he said. "Did your mother tell you nothing?' "She said... She told me she was afraid to send me here, even though my father had wanted her to. She said that once I was here, I probably couldn't leave. She wanted to keep me close to her." "And you?" He turned to me. "Nothing like this ever happened... Everything was normal." "Typical," Mr. D said. "That's how they usually get killed. Young lady, are you bidding or not?" "What?" I asked. He explained, impatiently, how you bid in pinochle, and so I did. "I'm afraid there's too much to tell," Chiron said. "I'm afraid our usual orientation film won't be sufficient." "Orientation film?" Percy asked. "No," Chiron decided. "Well, Percy. You know your friend Grover is a satyr. You know"—he pointed to the horn in the shoe box—"that you and Y/N have killed the Minotaur. No small feat, either, lad. What you may not know is that great powers are at work in your life. Gods—the forces you call the Greek gods—are very much alive." I stared at the others around the table. I waited for somebody to yell, Not! But all I got was Mr. D yelling, "Oh, a royal marriage. Trick! Trick!" He cackled as he tallied up his points. "Mr. D," Grover asked timidly, "if you're not going to eat it, could I have your Diet Coke can?" "Eh? Oh, all right." Grover bit a huge shard out of the empty aluminum can and chewed it mournfully. "Wait," I told Chiron. "You're telling me there's such a thing as God." "Well, now," Chiron said. "God—capital G, God. That's a different matter altogether. We shan't deal with the metaphysical." "Metaphysical? But you were just talking about—" "Ah, gods, plural, as in, great beings that control the forces of nature and human endeavors: the immortal gods of Olympus. That's a smaller matter." "Smaller?" "Yes, quite. The gods we discussed in Latin class." "Zeus," Percy said. "Hera. Apollo. You mean them." And there it was again—distant thunder on a cloudless day. "Young man," said Mr. D, "I would really be less casual about throwing those names around, if I were you." "But they're stories," Percy said. "They're—myths, to explain lightning and the seasons and stuff. They're what people believed before there was science." "Science!" Mr. D scoffed. "And tell me, Perseus Jackson"—I felt Percy flinched when he was called—"what will people think of your 'science' two thousand years from now?" Mr. D continued. "Hmm? They will call it primitive mumbo jumbo. That's what. Oh, I love mortals—they have absolutely no sense of perspective. They think they've come so-o-o far. And have they, Chiron? Look at this boy and tell me." I wasn't liking Mr. D much, but there was something about the way he called me mortal, as if... he wasn't. It was enough to put a lump in my throat, to suggest why Grover was dutifully minding his cards, chewing his soda can, and keeping his mouth shut. "Percy," Chiron said, "you may choose to believe or not, but the fact is that immortal means immortal. Can you imagine that for a moment, never dying? Never fading? Existing, just as you are, for all time?" "You mean, whether people believed in you or not," Percy said. "Exactly," Chiron agreed. "If you were a god, how would you like being called a myth, an old story to explain lightning? What if I told you, Perseus Jackson, that someday people would call you and Y/N a myth, just created to explain how children can get over losing their parents?" My heart pounded. He was trying to make us angry for some reason, but I wasn't going to let him. Gripping on Percy I said, "I wouldn't like it. But I don't believe in gods." "Oh, you'd better," Mr. D murmured. "Before one of them incinerates you." Grover said, "P-please, sir. She's just lost her family. She's in shock." "A lucky thing, too," Mr. D grumbled, playing a card. "Bad enough I'm confined to this miserable job, working with kids who don't even believe.'" He waved his hand and a goblet appeared on the table, as if the sunlight had bent, momentarily, and woven the air into glass. The goblet filled itself with red wine. My jaw dropped, but Chiron hardly looked up. "Mr. D," he warned, "your restrictions." Mr. D looked at the wine and feigned surprise. "Dear me." He looked at the sky and yelled, "Old habits! Sorry!" More thunder. Mr. D waved his hand again, and the wineglass changed into a fresh can of Diet Coke. He sighed unhappily, popped the top of the soda, and went back to his card game. Chiron winked at me. "Mr. D offended his father a while back, took a fancy to a wood nymph who had been declared off-limits." "A wood nymph," I repeated, still staring at the Diet Coke can like it was from outer space. "Yes," Mr. D confessed. "Father loves to punish me. The first time, Prohibition. Ghastly! Absolutely horrid ten years! The second time—well, she really was pretty, and I couldn't stay away—the second time, he sent me here. Half-Blood Hill. Summer camp for brats like you. 'Be a better influence,' he told me. 'Work with youths rather than tearing them down.' Ha.' Absolutely unfair." Mr. D sounded about six years old, like a pouting little kid. "And ..." Percy stammered, "your father is ..." "Di immortales, Chiron," Mr. D said. "I thought you taught this boy the basics. My father is Zeus, of course." I ran through D names from Greek mythology. Wine. The skin of a tiger. The satyrs that all seemed to work here. The way Grover cringed, as if Mr. D were his master. "You're Dionysus," I said. "The god of wine." Mr. D rolled his eyes. "What do they say, these days, Grover? Do the children say, 'Well, duh!'?" "Y-yes, Mr. D." "Then, well, duh! Y/N L/N. Did you think I was Aphrodite, perhaps?" "You're a god." "Yes, child." "A god. You." He turned to look at me straight on, and I saw a kind of purplish fire in his eyes, a hint that this whiny, plump little man was only showing me the tiniest bit of his true nature. I saw visions of grape vines choking unbelievers to death, drunken warriors insane with battle lust, sailors screaming as their hands turned to flippers, their faces elongating into dolphin snouts. I knew that if I pushed him, Mr. D would show me worse things. He would plant a disease in my brain that would leave me wearing a strait-jacket in a rubber room for the rest of my life. "Would you like to test me, child?" he said quietly. "No. No, sir." The fire died a little. He turned back to his card game. "I believe I win." "Not quite, Mr. D," Chiron said. He set down a straight, tallied the points, and said, "The game goes to me." I thought Mr. D was going to vaporize Chiron right out of his wheelchair, but he just sighed through his nose, as if he were used to being beaten by the Latin teacher. He got up, and Grover rose, too. "I'm tired," Mr. D said. "I believe I'll take a nap before the sing-along tonight. But first, Grover, we need to talk, again, about your less-than-perfect performance on this assignment." Grover's face beaded with sweat. "Y-yes, sir." Mr. D turned to me. "Cabin eleven, Percy Jackson, Y/N L/N. And mind your manners." He swept into the farmhouse, Grover following miserably. "Will Grover be okay?" Percy asked Chiron. Chiron nodded, though he looked a bit troubled. "Old Dionysus isn't really mad. He just hates his job. He's been ... ah, grounded, I guess you would say, and he can't stand waiting another century before he's allowed to go back to Olympus." "Mount Olympus," Percy said. "You're telling me there really is a palace there?" "Well now, there's Mount Olympus in Greece. And then there's the home of the gods, the convergence point of their powers, which did indeed used to be on Mount Olympus. It's still called Mount Olympus, out of respect to the old ways, but the palace moves, Percy, just as the gods do." "You mean the Greek gods are here? Like... in America?" "Well, certainly. The gods move with the heart of the West." "The what?" "Come now, Percy. What you call 'Western civilization.' Do you think it's just an abstract concept? No, it's a living force. A collective consciousness that has burned bright for thousands of years. The gods are part of it. You might even say they are the source of it, or at least, they are tied so tightly to it that they couldn't possibly fade, not unless all of Western civilization were obliterated. The fire started in Greece. Then, as you well know—or as I hope you know, since you passed my course—the heart of the fire moved to Rome, and so did the gods. Oh, different names, perhaps—Jupiter for Zeus, Venus for Aphrodite, and so on—but the same forces, the same gods." "And then they died." "Died? No. Did the West die? The gods simply moved, to Germany, to France, to Spain, for a while. Wherever the flame was brightest, the gods were there. They spent several centuries in England. All you need to do is look at the architecture. People do not forget the gods. Every place they've ruled, for the last three thousand years, you can see them in paintings, in statues, on the most important buildings. And yes, Percy, of course they are now in your United States. Look at your symbol, the eagle of Zeus. Look at the statue of Prometheus in RockefellerCenter, the Greek facades of your government buildings in Washington. I defy you to find any American city where the Olympians are not prominently displayed in multiple places. Like it or not—and believe me, plenty of people weren't very fond of Rome, either—America is now the heart of the flame. It is the great power of the West. And so Olympus is here. And we are here." It was all too much, especially the fact that I seemed to be included in Chiron's we, as if I were part of some club. "Who are you, Chiron? Who... who am I? I-Is Y/N?" Chiron smiled. He shifted his weight as if he were going to get up out of his wheelchair, but I knew that was impossible. He was paralyzed from the waist down. "Who are you?" he mused. "Well, that's the question we all want answered, isn't it? But for now, we should get you a bunk in cabin eleven. There will be new friends to meet. I believe Y/N had met one of them, Luke Castellan. And plenty of time for lessons tomorrow. Besides, there will be s'mores at the campfire tonight, and I simply adore chocolate." And then he did rise from his wheelchair. But there was something odd about the way he did it. His blanket fell away from his legs, but the legs didn't move. His waist kept getting longer, rising above his belt. At first, I thought he was wearing very long, white velvet underwear, but as he kept rising out of the chair, taller than any man, I realized that the velvet underwear wasn't underwear; it was the front of an animal, muscle and sinew under coarse white fur. And the wheelchair wasn't a chair. It was some kind of container, an enormous box on wheels, and it must've been magic, because there's no way it could've held all of him. A leg came out, long and knobby-kneed, with a huge polished hoof. Then another front leg, then hindquarters, and then the box was empty, nothing but a metal shell with a couple of fake human legs attached.. I stared at the horse who had just sprung from the wheelchair: a huge white stallion. But where its neck should be was the upper body of my Latin teacher, smoothly grafted to the horse's trunk. "What a relief," the centaur said. "I'd been cooped up in there so long, my fetlocks had fallen asleep. Now, come, Percy Jackson, Y/N L/N. Let's meet the other campers." I took Percy's hand, anxious of what is coming.

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Taglist?

@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @the-natureofme @booknerd-3000

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

What Colour is Gold?

Jercy Fic

This is a fic based on this headcanon. I’m obsessed with Dark!Jercy and since i have a couple Dark Percy fics and one fic of both going Dark i figured its time for Jason to get a taste. I hope you guys enjoy. This was so much of fun to write

Masterlist

--------------------------------------------------------------

when they told me blood smelt like

iron

i grabbed my mother's favourite pan

and sniffed till I got dizzy off the smell

when they told me crying tasted like

salt

i gulped down a glass of ocean water

and watched as tears fell

when they told me silk felt like

polished glass

i dove into the ocean

and scraped shards against shell

i wonder what gold looks like?

maybe it's time to tell

"Dude take my left I'm going for the thing behind us" Percy Jackson yelled, pounding towards the hydra.

"I got you" Jason Grace said, pulling up next to his friend.

"Gods these things get uglier everytime I deal with them" Percy grimaced

"Ugh agreed and those damn empousai are worse than Drew with all the stupid cackling" Jason huffed

"Yea I fought those a while back, they really are the evil cheerleaders of the underworld" His friend grinned sordidly

"I feel like there's a story there but we don't have time right now so add it to the list of stuff you have to tell me when this shit show is over"

Percy laughed before swinging his sword down on one of the slithering snapping heads of the hydra.

"Jay, light it up!"

The blue-eyed boy grinned and pulled lightning from clear skies directly onto the stump of monster neck.

"Damn that never gets old" Percy smirked and then he was back to swinging.

Together the two made a barbecue meal of the hydra and when it crumbled to dust, screeching towards darkness, they laughed.

"Now to get rid of our cheersqaud," Green eyes rolled in annoyance.

"Honestly Percy Jackson how do we end up meeting in such delicious circumstances?"

"Hi Kelli glad to see you look as whole as ever, figured you'd be in the trash since Bob swept you up?"

Jason snickered at the sweetness dripping from his friend's voice.

"An acquaintance Perce?"

"Just some housekeeping jobs gone wrong."

Kelli hissed and with two lethal movements stood in front of the two demigods.

"Your blood is going to be as salty as the ocean Percy Jackson and I cannot wait to drink it.'

"Well that's just dramatic" And with that he swung Riptide around.

It clanged resoundingly against Kelli's bronze leg.

Jason was about to stab from behind when another evil cheerleader popped up next to him. He scrambled back raising his sword. The empousa cackled and shuffled towards him, hair flickering with flames.

He attempted to create a storm, snapping her with lightning.

"Your little tricks do not work on me son of Jupiter." She crowed, pulling her mouth into a fanged grin.

"Guess we'll have to do this the hard way then" He shrugged, striking his sword against the ground.

He snuck a glance at Percy to make sure everything was okay. Rookie mistake. The empousa used that moment to charge.

"Jason!" Percy yelled

He whirled back around to see the evil cheerleader flying towards him. Jason twisted his sword and flung it towards the shrieking monster. With a vile squelch it found its mark and before she could touch the ground she was ash.

He sighed in relief and turned to thank his friend. Percy was lying on the floor, a hand clutching his abdomen.

Bile climbed up Jason's throat as he rushed forward.

"Percy oh my gods what happened? Fuck shit Percy!" He screamed

"Kelli," Percy gasped, eyes rolling back, "Kelli managed to gut me before I killed her."

Jason sobbed as he felt warm red blood soaking through Percy's shirt.

"What must I do? Tell me how to help you?"

"Ambrosia," The demigod rasped, trying to reach his jeans' pockets.

"Right right okay, just stay with me, you aren't allowed to close your eyes you have to stay with me" Jason was hyperventilating

He shoveled some ambrosia into his friend's mouth and watched the green-eyed boy nibble it, groaning as he tried to swallow.

"Thanks buddy, you're a really good—" Percy succumbed to the darkness.

"No no fuck no! Wake up gods fucking dammit open your eyes Jackson!" He yelled

The son of Poseidon did not stir again.

Jason heaved, blueberry pancakes and water.

Minutes later the tears ran dry, and the shaking ceased.

"This is not fucking over." He swore.

And with that he picked up his friend and started walking. If anyone saw him they stayed far away. Those blue eyes crackled with murder.

Someone was going to pay f

Jason walked and walked and walked, until he stood at the entrance to Olympus. Then and only then did he dare look down. Black hair was plastered to a pale forheadhead and blood had soaked right through the Bon Jovi picture. He tightened his grip under his friend's knees and squeezed the hand holding Percy's shoulder.

The Son of Jupiter prowled onto the marble bridge of Olympus and the entire structure shuddered. Each step struck sparks of electricity. Dryads and nymphs scuttled back to their homes, not daring to make a sound. The infinite music  halted in a single note. The chatter of thriving life died. The only sound was the heavy, deadly footfall of a demigod.

Jason Grace stepped into the throne room and Gods became men.

"Fix this." Two words.

Nothing had ever sounded so paralyzing.

Nobody moved. No-one dared to loose a breath.

"This is your fault. We were down there because you couldn't keep the monsters out of the fields. FIX THIS!" The blonde haired boy bellowed.

"Son we are sorry but we—"

"I don't fucking care what you can and can't do. Fix him." How does a whisper sound louder than drums.

"We cannot change death Jason Grace." Ares frowned.

"Then you should have prevented it," Still so soft.

"I cannot say I'm unhappy to see him gone," Athena mused, unaware of the volatile half blood in her midst.

Jason's laugh entwined itself around his throat,

"And I thought you were the smart one"

The Goddess of Wisdom did not have time to open her mouth before a sword hilt stuck out of her rib-cage.

Her eyes widened a fraction before she slumped over.

The demigod retrieved his sword, inspecting the gold liquid that clung to it.

"Who's next?"

"You think you can beat all of us Son of Jupiter?" Artemis looked at him with interest

"I don't care if I can, I'll die trying if you don't fix him."

Only malice glittered in his eyes. Nothing of the good boy who followed rules and obeyed the divine.

Nobody bothered to move.

Jason smiled and the skies opened up. Lightning rained down like shards of glass, cutting and searing flesh.

Thunder echoed against the stone walls, loud enough to burst eardrums. Blood dripped down the side of agonized immortal faces. Storms, the demigod thought, had never looked so rich.

"JASON!" Zeus roared.

"What?" His son hissed.

"Stop this right now! Dionysus take Percy Jackson to Poseidon, he is not dead. The sea should heal him. And as for you boy you will not defy us like this ever again. I will strip you of everything you are." Zeus slashed.

"If you don't want me to act like this maybe you should stop getting us into life and death situations."

"Get out and do not come back unless you are invited." His father seethed.

"I always did want to know what gold looked like." Jason Grace grinned.

And all around him drops of sunlight coated the stone floor, dripping from those ancient bodies and glittering in the evening beams.

--------------------------------------------

when they told me blood smelt like

iron

i grabbed my mother's favourite pan

and sniffed till I got dizzy off the smell

when they told me crying tasted like

salt

i gulped down a glass of ocean water

and watched as tears fell

when they told me silk felt like

polished glass

i dove into the ocean

and scraped shards against shell

i'll tell you what gold looks like

go ask the gods

they're bottled sunshine

and I am hell

[twdmusicboxmystery]

TWB 1x06 - Shadow Puppets

Alright, so let's talk about TWB. There were actually a lot of small potatoes symbols in this episode, but a couple of big things really jumped out at me.

The storyline here was that they meet a guy named Percy who tells them he was robbed all asked them to help him get stuff back, which they do. But it turns out Percy and his companion, Tony, had set the whole thing up and were lying. They do this to take people's stuff for themselves.

One thing that didn't even occur to me until @wdway​ figured out was the name Percy. Remember the last time we saw someone name Percy? He was at Grady. An old man O’Donnell pushed down and he got hurt. Beth was upset about it. There was even a deleted scene where Beth wanted to see Percy and asked if he was all right.

He was also involved in her distracting the guard so that she could get medicine for Carol. He's the guy she gave the strawberries to in exchange for him pretending to have a medical emergency, so that she could get into the drug walker.

Now, I would probably put this out anyway just because of the parallel between names. But in both cases, there was a ruse involved. Percy pretended to be sick so that Beth could get medicine. In the world beyond, Percy pretends to have been robbed so that he can take their supplies.

Kinda don't think that's a coincidence.

I actually laughed out loud when I saw this next one because it was such an obvious benefit proxy. First, our group came across a guy who'd been shot in the forehead — left side just like Beth—and was lying across the front seat of a truck. Obviously that caught my attention and I made a note of it.

Then, sometime later, when the group had split up and got into the building, we see that some guy in the background get to his feet. It didn't click for me at first. I just assumed, as most people probably did, that he was turning. I thought something along the lines of, "oh, that guy is turning. Watch out Silas." But then the guy jumped up and started taking all of their bags and things. So the whole thing had been a trick.

The crazy thing, if you think about it, is that we have someone who was shot in the left side of the forehead, who was not actually dead. He was playing dead, or playing possum.

And to throw another level of symbolism on it, keep in mind that because he had been shot in the head, no one thought to stop them in the head to keep him from turning. Had they done that, he would've died for real. All those things are super huge parallels to Beth. So, when I saw the guy jump up and start taking their bags, I literally burst out laughing because it was just so obvious.

I noticed a lot of red objects in this episode. At one point, when they got to town, there was a tattered red flag or tarp. It actually looked a bit like the Tibetan prayer flags we’ve seem quite often in TWD.

Later on, after everyone escapes, Tony does a magic trick with a red ball. It's fairly run-of-the-mill sleight-of-hand in which he puts it under one cup and then it's not there anymore. But that was interesting that we had this red object, that even looked a bit like an egg, and it was not where it appeared to be. There was some misdirection going on and even some deception. Hmmm. Maybe the writers are having some fun with this.

In the store, we also see a mannequin with a dark red shirt, and lots of other red clothing on hangars.

And finally, in the coda after the credits, we saw that same woman who is doing experiments on people. In this case, she was wearing a red sweater the exact same shade as the one hanging in Beth’s cell in 4x01. I thought that might've been some kind of parallel or hint as well.

Other things we learned in the coda are that Iris and Hope's father is still alive, but she said he had a security detail. Whether that's for his protection or because he's being held captive is hard to say.

We saw a play both at the beginning and ending of the show. The play included a dog, a baby, cars and even a bus and a bridge.

When Percy told them his fake story about Mike and Tony, he mentioned about a biker vibe (Daryl) and fish (water/Oceanside/Beth). He also mentions traveling through snow and a storm on an overpass.

He mentions going to Wyoming. This caught our attention because we see mention of Wyoming in the show several times now. It's probably a foreshadow something, but we don't know what. He also mentions seeing a Ferris wheel in Florida.

We learned that Elton was named after Elton John. So that's a singing/music mention.

At one point, Hope mentions Elton taking pictures of worms. Remember that we had a worm theme in regular TWD, both with Daryl eating one in 5x10 and then again with Lydia and Henry. (Check out my worm theory here.)

There are quite a few instances of keys in this episode as well (Key Theory).

Near the end, Iris falls into a garbage can. We could possibly link that to Glenn and his death fake out. One of the walkers that tries to eat her is also wearing a bright yellow shirt.

As I said, we see the play again at the end of the episode and it's actually a super depressing play. Percy and Tony act as though it should be happy and they’re entertaining people to get their minds off the apocalypse, but the play is super dark and sad.

Also, pay attention to the song at the end. It's called here comes the river. I will post all the lyrics down below, but these ones especially caught my attention.

"Here comes the river over the flames

Sometimes you gotta burn to keep the storm away.”

Really, this whole song could be one great big TWD theme, but I’m sure you can see all the TD symbols in it as well.

Here Comes the River by Patrick Watson

The windows turned to fishbowls The city to seas The cars were drowning underneath your feet The children were swimming from the top of the trees Crowds of umbrellas were staring in mis-belief Well Mary kept sewing Holding on to her TV Even if the water was rising past her knees

Now here comes the river Coming on strong And you can't keep your head above these troubled waters

Here comes the river Over the flames Sometimes you got to burn to keep the storm away

Sometimes Sometimes you got to just

Nobody told you it was going to be this hard Something's been building behind your eyes You lost what you hold onto You're losing control There ain't any words in this world That's gonna cure this pain Sometimes it's going to fall down on your shoulders But you're going to stand through it all

Here comes the river Coming on strong But you can't keep your head above these troubled waters

Here comes the river Over the flames Sometimes you got to burn to keep the storm away

Sometimes You got to just

[phykios]

the marble king, part 4 [read on ao3]

Athens, 1453

Catching a current to Thera had been a simple task. Well, there had been parts to the journey somewhat more complex than he had let on to his traveling companion, but the steps taken had, all told, been rather simple for a son of the sea god. Following the currents was a matter of instinct, and in the water, he could forget mortal afflictions such as hunger or exhaustion.

Annabeth did not have the same freedoms, of course, and while Percy could extend his gifts to her for some time, he simply was not strong enough to sustain it for the entirety of the journey to Athens. Travelling by boat was somewhat riskier, as there were the Ottomans and the Venetians to avoid, not to mention all the other Latins and Franks and gods-only-knew-who-else who sought to steal some of Hellas ’ glory for themselves, but Percy was confident that he could steer a ship out of danger with far less effort than he could carry Annabeth under the sea.

“It will draw less attention to ourselves,” he had reminded her, “if we are merely one of a thousand mortals making pilgrimage to Athens.” Convinced, unhappily, she agreed.

It had been a long, quiet, terse five days, and not only because she would often refuse to speak to him.

The two of them had traveled these waters together once before, searching for a certain magical sheepskin, but Percy could never recall them being so empty. In his memory, sea monsters lurked beneath every wave, while other horrors plucked straight from the mouths of the poets and muses made their homes on every spit of land, no matter how small. But the monsters and the madness that had haunted heroes such as Jason, Odysseus, Aeneas, and all the others, appeared to have simply vanished into the mist. Even the waves themselves were unusually pacified, allowing them to pass without too much trouble.

It all made for quite the unsettling picture. It was, at once, both empty and not empty; he felt as though they were standing upon the shore as the water was pulled out to the sea, in preparation for the monstrous tsunami which would follow. If a man were able to live in that moment, the calm before the storm, the precipice before the cliff, the sharply receding tide before the flood, then he would know how the sea felt to Percy in this moment.

“Look, Annabeth,” he said, in an attempt to cajole her into conversation. “There, to the West--we are coming up on Delos.”

She did not respond.

“Do you not remember? Apollo’s lions burst forth from the stone and nearly ate us for trespassing.”

All quiet. When he looked to her, she had her head tipped back against the wood of the ship, eyes closed, hands fiddling with the frayed edge of her shawl, a thin, faded grey strip of fabric. She must have woven it herself; he thought he recognized her patterns as they shifted in the bright sunlight, but they had grown distorted by time, the threads stained with brown, dry blood.

With a sigh, he turned back to the sail, adjusting it, the scrape of rope soothing to his ears. The sea was never meant to be so silent, yet as the presence of the gods had fled the last standing city of their once great empire, as his father’s palace now sat cold and empty at the bottom of the sea, so too had the sea seemed to have lost all its magic.

No, not all of it, he thought. Was he himself not living proof that magic still lived in this land? He could yet still breathe underwater, could still command his boat and navigate the seas with more skill than the most experienced captain. There had been the terrible moment, a painful and fleeting thing, in the heartbeats between leaping into the sea with his arms around Annabeth and hitting the water, where he wondered if, rather than securing their escape, he had led them to their deaths instead, that he had lost the powers Annabeth had accused him of relying on too strongly.

But of course, they had not. Percy was of the sea, the ancient salt and spray his blood and his breath, and the power of Poseidon would remain within him always, even if the god himself did not.

In silence, they made their way then to Piraeus. As Percy had predicted, they blended in quite well with their fellow pilgrims, and if any person thought it odd that their vessel was only crewed by two, they did not mention it. At the very least, they were spared from walking in the hot sun, as Percy managed to scrounge up a few coins from the meager money Annabeth had found to rent them passage on a horse cart which traveled into the city. Still tired from the long journey, she lay her head on his shoulder, their backs pressed against the wooden cart.

Percy had never seen Athens before. He had seen the painting, which hung in Annabeth’s and her siblings’ villa, and he had heard her speak of it, many many times. Based on how often she spoke of it, he felt as though he had been there a thousand times before, had seen its winding streets and mighty marble monuments. By the gods, they had been tasked with crafting little miniatures of the Parthenon as a way of testing their fine motor movements. The way she talked, the things she built, surely she must have seen it for herself. “Bet you’re glad to be back,” he said, not really expecting an answer. “I’ve never been to Athens before.”

“Neither have I,” she mumbled.

He turned to look at her, shocked. “You haven’t?”

“Never had the chance.”

“But--I thought--the way you speak of it--”

“I’ve always wanted to see it, of course,” she said. Annabeth kept her eyes on her hands, playing with the increasingly fraying ends of her shawl. “All children of Athena do. But I have studied the temple more keenly than anyone I know. I know everything there is to know about the Acropolis. Every temple, every column, every brick was placed with the finest care and the foremost precision.” She smiled then, a small, creeping thing, and it seemed to lighten her whole face. “I cannot wait to see it.”

Like this, so soft in the face, almost dreamy, she was honestly quite pretty, he thought to himself. “Tell me about it,” he asked, as soft as a puff of wind, as though he had never heard her speak of it before.

Her shawl dropped to her lap. “We begin at the propylea,” she said, tracing the outline with her fingers, “the great winding road up the Western side of the mountain. Immediately to your right, there is the temple of Athena Nike, then once you enter beneath the great archway…” She sighed, almost ardent. “There, you would see it: the statue of Athena, and behind her, the Parthenon. The columns are of the Doric order, and thus unadorned at their top by any sort of frivolous curls or curves. Above them sit the metopes, which ring the whole building, and each marble frieze tells of a great epic; the Titanomachy, the Amazonomachy, the Trojan war. And the colors,” her face broke out into a true smile, and her eyes crinkled at the corners, shining and silver. “Such beautiful colors, red and gold and green. Oh, and the pediments! We must not forget the pediments.”

“The pediments?” He frowned. “I do not know that word.”

“It refers to the triangular space between the portico and the roof. Do you not remember the door of the Big House?”

Yes, he recalled now, though he didn’t see what all the fuss was over the empty space was. “Are the pediments truly so important?”

“These ones are,” she said, “for the western pediment depicts the story of our parents.”

“Ah.”

Now this was a story which she loved to hold over him, retelling every chance she could, to make sure that he never forgot which of their divine parents were revered by the city of Athens.

“It is beautiful, Perseus, you shall see,” she said, with a teasing grin. “It is said that the bodies and the horses are rendered so perfectly, I cannot imagine that you will not be able to see the look on your father’s face as he realizes he has lost the contest for Athens.”

“Yes, well,” he harrumphed. “It had better be worth it, then.”

“It will be,” she assured him. “Once we round the Areopagus , you will be able to see the propylea above the mountain, and the perfect point of the Parthenon above that.”

When they approached the Areopagus proper, some hour or so later, she actually leaned forward, going up on her knees to better see the view from their cart.

“Here it is,” she said. Her whole body quivered, as tense as a bow on a string. “Here it is.”

He smiled at her excitement, as though she were a child.

Almost immediately, he noticed something was wrong. Her shoulders were tight, raised up to her ears as she went deathly still. “Annabeth?” She did not answer him. “Annabeth?”

Joining her at the lip of the cart, he looked up at the Acropolis.

He frowned. “What are those walls?”

The many, many times she had described the Acropolis to him, she had never once mentioned the stone walls. Brown and grey, they rose up out of the sheer cliffside, notched indentations in the top like teeth, as though they were devouring the cliff-face whole. On the northern and southern ends, two large towers lorded over the rest.

Too enthralled in the stone walls, he did not notice as their cart traveled onward in the shadow of the cliff. “Where are we going?” he asked, looking towards the horse at the front of the cart. “Was that not the propylea ?”

It was only then that he saw Annabeth. Pale as a ghost, she was, her knuckles white from gripping the edge of the wood, and her face was set in a terrible grimace. Her eyes bulged out as though she saw a monster, her chin trembling as she opened her mouth and gasped out, “Those are not supposed to be there.”

“What isn’t?”

“The walls.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. He always knew her to be solid, immovable, strong as a statue, but now she looked as though she could be brought low by a mere puff of wind.

“Perhaps they are new,” he offered.

But she fell silent again, glaring at the cliffside as they passed. Her hands, now resting in her lap, clenched and unclenched over and over again, twitching in the manner that suggested she was about to draw her knife, though what target had drawn her ire he could only guess--presumably, she dreamt of stabbing the fool who had chosen to add walls to the Acropolis. Her jaw was hard, set so firmly he thought he could hear her grinding her teeth behind her lips. Antagonistic as they were, he had been on the receiving end of that glare more times than he cared to remember, and he was again glad that they had chosen to set aside their rivalry for now. Eventually, the driver let them off on the eastern side of the mountain. For a moment, he made to help her down from the cart, as he had been taught, but looking at her face, he decided not to risk the insult, allowing her to scramble down to the ground by herself, and side-by-side, they made the long trek to the Acropolis, just another two pilgrims on the final leg of their journey.

Unfortunately, their troubles were merely beginning.

Cresting the hill, the midafternoon sun beating down on them, Annabeth stiffened against him, so severely he thought she might faint. “What,” she hissed, “is that monstrosity ?”

He blinked, squinting through the bright light, though he did not see anything so obviously offensive to the senses--but then, he did not know the field of architecture nearly as well as she did. “What is it?”

“That!”

On top of the building immediately before them rose a bell tower, a cross sitting proudly above it. Surely she could not be referring to that, as the streets of Constantinople had been practically littered with bell towers and crosses. One would be hard pressed to find a corner which did not have a church with its own bell and steeple. “The tower?”

“No, the columns,” she scoffed. “Of course the malakes tower! What is it doing on top of the Parthenon?”

“Annabeth,” he said slowly. “It is a bell tower. Surely, you know what a bell tower is.”

She flushed. “Yes, I know what a bell tower is, phykios , but what I do not know is which imbecile thought to put one up on top of the Parthenon!” She pointed, glaring at it. “It is not even symmetrical!”

He tilted his head, looking. She was right; it did seem oddly placed, given what he had heard of the temple, far back and to the left.

“This is all wrong,” she fretted, worrying her lip between her teeth. “This is--this is wrong. We are supposed to enter through the propylea from the West, into the Precinct of Artemis Brauronia, then pass the Athena Promachos on the northern edge , and--and the pediment--”

Oh dear. She was shaking, now, a leaf on the wind. It was a risky move, to be sure, but he rested a hand on her shoulder, squeezing. She trembled so violently, he thought he could feel it in his bones. “Here,” he said, “let us go inside. We can sit down, catch our breath.”

The fact that she did not refuse him was more concerning than if she had turned around and stabbed him.

Walking into the--the church, he supposed it was, he too felt a little uneasy. The western pediment, the one she had spoken so highly of, the one which was supposed to portray the origins of their ancient feud, a good third of it was missing, plucked straight from the middle of the frieze, the faded pale statues headless, like corpses in the grip of death.

Percy had seen many churches before. Few could compare to St. Sophia, but in essence, all churches looked somewhat the same. He did not have the fancy words for it, not like Annabeth, but he could recognize their shared features should he see them. This was…

He did not know what to think of it, truly.

He supposed that St. Sophia had spoiled him, all that light streaming in through the dome of the roof. The churches of Constantinople were not places which he frequented, but he found himself in St. Sophia for pagan-related duties more frequently than he cared to be, and had become used to that kind of space, so open and airy. By contrast, here the ceiling was flat, dark, nearly oppressive. Rich frescoes and golden mosaics surrounded them, their strange, frightening faces staring down at them, in cold, apathetic judgement. Pilgrims streamed in through the narrow entrance, pressed so close together that Annabeth was forced to grab onto his arm for fear of being separated. Still she shook, shivering as though she were feverish, and before he could think better of it, he placed an arm around her shoulder, drawing her off to the side, away from the large crush of people. Gently steering her, he brought them to the back left corner of the main gallery, and dropped to his knees in order to better blend in with the crowds, pleased when she took his lead without any further prompting.

“This is all wrong,” she whispered. “This is so wrong.”

He squeezed her shoulder, placing his head against hers. “I’m so sorry.”

“Those walls,” her breath hitched, “those hideous, ugly walls--”

“I know,” he said, “I know.”

“I--I didn’t think that--I never thought that, that it might have changed. That it might be different.” She turned to him, eyes wild. “I never--the Parthenon, it’s… you do not understand, the Parthenon is perfect. It is the most perfect piece of architecture ever conceived, ever planned, ever built. The architects, their understanding of mathematics is unparalleled, even to this day. It is perfect .”

He did understand, but now was not the time to point that out. Now was simply the time to listen.

“All children of Athena, we can only dream of creating something even half as beautiful. The Parthenon isn’t supposed to change, it is supposed to endure. Survive.” She swallowed, eyes blinking back furious tears. “Look at what they have done to her altar. Her temple.” Turning from him, her hand swiped at her face, and he looked away. “And these horrible, horrible bodies,” she hissed, after a moment. “The statues of the Parthenon are meant to embody the perfection of the human form. What man do you know looks like that?”

Towards the end of the room was the greatest offence yet. As with all churches, this one too had a portrait of the moment of death of their trinity god, his arms fastened to a wooden cross, his head hung in shame and despair. At his feet, a woman wrapped in blue looked on him in painful grief, her hands outstretched as though she could catch the frozen stream of glittering red which poured from a black mark in his side, their features flattened and reconstituted with different colored stones, thick lines criss crossing their bodies.

She shook her head, disbelieving. “My mother would never have let this insult go unpunished. She must still be here. She has to be.”

Now her tears had dried, and her mouth was set in a thin, grim line, stubborn and serious. No longer did she shake apart on the cold, stone floor, but was still, poised, gathering energy about her as she waited for the proper moment to strike. Oh, he did not have the heart to attempt to convince her out of her plan.

“Stay here. I will see if I can find a way to speak to her.” And so she left him there in the gallery of the church, off to seek some quiet corner.

Unfortunately, she had not specified for how long she would be gone. And truthfully, she should have known better--they were all saddled with the half-blood’s curse, the plight of wandering attention and nervous energy. To order Percy to stay put was simply a folly. He vowed that he would not leave the Acropolis, for it simply was not that big, and they were sure to find each other easily, but he could not be blamed for indulging this small bout of an itinerant spirit.

Walking out of the church, before he could exit entirely, something gold caught his eye, and he looked up. Almost directly above the entrance was a raised part of the roof, reminiscent of the dome with which he was most familiar, but instead of sunlight, the dome was lined with gold and pearl and lapis lazuli in what even he had to admit was a stunning mosaic. The same woman was depicted here, in the same stunning blue robe, though she looked down on them not in grief, but in deep, pensive thought. No, not pensive, he amended--calculating. With her straight nose and keen eyes, she seemed to stare deep into his very heart and soul, considering all the contents she found there, and he was unsure whether or not she found him wanting.

Perhaps it was merely because he had been thinking of her so often these last few days, but for some strange reason, the woman in the mosaic reminded him of Annabeth. He had seen that piercing gaze on her face many times, one that she shared with all of her siblings. It was a trait inherited directly from their shared mother, the one they wore when they were crafting the very finest of their battle strategies.

Unnerved, he continued on, stepping out of the church into its looming shadow.

In front of him rose another one of Annabeth’s hated towers, round in the way he had come to expect from fortified walls, with soldiers eyeing the pilgrims warily from their positions at the top, though he doubted these men had seen much in the way of fighting. Although, who was he to tell. He had thought, once upon a time, that churches were meant to be sacred spaces to men of god, places where no blood could be shed, nor hateful action be taken. Of course, he knew better now.

Wandering round the Acropolis did little to ease his strange mood. It could not have been a more different experience than exploring his father’s palace beneath the sea; rising high above the city, rather than submerged beneath the depths, where one was empty, ruined and rotting, the other was full, crowded with masses of travelers and worshippers, its fortifications kept seemingly well. And yet, as he walked, still he sensed that strange emptiness that he had felt down below. The people who surrounded him may as well have been ghosts for all that he could know them.

Unbidden, his footsteps brought him past a collection of red roofed houses, squat and low, then round to a strangely shaped building on the northern side of the Acropolis. He frowned, walking down the slim stone steps, taking in the columns whose spaces had been filled with grey stone.

He had not lied to Annabeth when he said he had never been to Athens before, and he surely did not have her thorough knowledge of the ancient buildings which decorated it, but he knew, deep in his bones, that what he was looking at here was wrong. Beyond the ugly stone, it came too far forward, as though it were a living, breathing creature, swallowing the ancient marble over the course of a thousand years. Tilting his head, he tried to put it from his mind as he considered the four pillars which stood before him.

There was something behind those walls, he knew, though he did not know how, something which called to him, deep in his soul. If he closed his eyes, he thought that he could smell seawater, imagined that he could hear the gurgling of a spring, deep beneath the foundations of the earth, pouring forth as though it were a beating heart.

“Percy.”

He blinked.

Annabeth stood before him, scowling. “Did I not say to stay where you were?”

The sun laid low on the horizon, casting long shadows over him, though he could not have been standing here for more than a few minutes. “I… I apologize,” he said. His thoughts were fuzzy, as though he were emerging from an unintended nap. “I did not realize how long it had been. Did you find what you were seeking?”

Her scowl deepened further, before dropping, as though it were a mask, leaving nothing but weariness behind. “No,” she said, her gaze dropping to the ground. “My mother would not come.”

“Perhaps we can find a market,” he suggested, though he knew it would be a fruitless gesture, “and procure a sacrifice. Maybe that would entice her to appear.”

But she shook her head, her lips pulled into a frown. “That would not be wise. I fear that if she allowed the desecration of her temple in this way without repercussion, there is very little that would call her down from Olympus.” She turned to join him, then, standing shoulder to shoulder as she, too, beheld the strange facade.

“Tell me about this place,” he requested. Speaking at length on architecture was, after all, one of her favorite pastimes, and he did so hate to see that sorrowful look on her face. “I feel as if I… know it, somehow.”

“I am not surprised,” she said. “This is--was--is the Erechtheion, the temple dedicated to both of our divine parents.”

“I see,” he teased, hoping to make her smile. “And you said that the Athenians did not like my father.”

Gods be praised, it worked. Trembling, as though she were fighting it, a smile did raise the corners of her mouth. “I said nothing of the sort, merely that the early Athenians vastly preferred my mother.”

“And yet, here lies a temple to his glory.”

She lightly smacked him. “There were shrines to the other gods as well, phykios .”

“You cannot take this from me, skjaldmær. I shall go round proclaiming its glory to all who would listen to the tale of Poseidon and his Athenian temple.”

“Oh, hush.” But she was grinning now, and his heart rose at the sight.

They stood there for some time, as the sun continued to set over the complex, the shadows of the towers lengthening with every minute. The longer they stood, the more the question nagged at him, filling him with a desire and a longing that he had not known for some time, a yearning which reached beyond his skin and bones deep into the core of him. “Why do I know this place?” he asked her.

Equally spellbound, she answered, “Legend held that this is where our parents’ great rivalry began. They say that beneath the Erechtheion lies the three marks of the sea god’s trident, under the branches of the very first olive tree.”

“Here, you say?” How extraordinary. Here was the spot which would come to define their antagonism, a mighty tree the seeds of which were planted thousands of years ago, far beyond the memory of any living man, recorded in stone and letter. Here they were, two souls adrift in the uncaring winds of time, and yet, together, they had come full circle, to the place where it all began. Who of the ancient Athenians could have guessed, all those generations ago, that their choice of patron would shape the course of history, as a river through a valley? Who among them would have known how their decision would take root throughout the years, until it blossomed within Percy and Annabeth, children who, despite following the same gods, would have been as total strangers to them? The thought filled him with an emotion he could not quite name, only that he knew he was glad for her presence.

“Thank you,” she murmured, as quiet as a breath, “for looking after me. I am sorry to have dragged you here on nothing but a whim and a wish.”

Acting on some instinct he did not know he possessed, he reached down, and took her hand. It was warm in his, her heart beating strongly through the tips of her fingers. “Think nothing of it. We two must stay together, should we not?”

“We should indeed.”

She looked on him without any distaste or annoyance for what must have been the first time in a very long time, and it sent a warm thrill through him, as though the shadows around them had receded, bathing the two of them in sunlight. “I have been thinking,” he said, inspired by this place and this time and the thought of their legacy. “If indeed, the gods that we know and worship have truly… have truly gone,” and his voice grew thick at the thought. He cleared his throat, and was grateful she did not comment on it. “Then we should continue to travel together. This truce that we have struck, it has proven beneficial in more ways than I could have predicted, and if we are to survive whatever comes next, I have a feeling that we should stay together. If you agree, Annabeth, let us, here and now, tie off these threads of our history, as one would to a tapestry. Let us end this rivalry of ours.”

She looked at him, a cascade of feelings crossing her face, too quick for him to name, until she settled on something which he would define as apprehension, perhaps. Gazing into his eyes, she searched for some hint that he would betray her, he supposed, though he could not blame her for it. His proposal was a novel one, and bold as well. Should her mother get word of this agreement, Annabeth could find herself in deep trouble, as Athena’s hatred of Percy himself was no secret.

This close, the setting sun seemed to reflect in her eyes, transforming them from steel to silver, a kaleidoscope of glittering stars. This close, he realized he could trace the flush on her cheeks as it traveled towards the crooked bridge of her nose, and he saw that there were freckles there, beneath the tanned skin.

“A plan worthy of Athena,” she said after some consideration. “I agree to your terms.”

And thus, it was ended.

“To think,” he murmured, “that such a legendary rivalry could have been resolved so easily.”

“It is strange,” she admitted, “that along with my mother and our ancestral home, I have lost this as well.” And she looked out over the city, despondent.

He frowned, as he did not think of their antagonism as something to lose; rather, he felt as though the ancient fields had been overturned, the old soil furrowed, giving way to new and fertile ground, full of endless possibility.

“Well,” he said, hoping to put a smile back on her face, "my first act, in the shedding of our rivalry, is to pledge myself to our future empress, Ana Zabeta Palaiologina." Then, in a fit of insanity, he raised her hand to his lips, and laid a kiss there.

She did not smile at him; rather, she rolled her eyes, pulling her hand from his grasp, and wiping it on the front of her dress.

“Where to then, your majesty? The Morea?”

“Enough,” she said. “I had given up that plan some time ago.”

“Oh?”

“As you and I have both noted, the despotes will not give us the army that we seek, nor the Legion, nor any of the rulers of this Christendom. I fear,” she sighed, biting her lip, “I fear that Constantinople is lost to us forever.” She looked to him again, clear eyes shining. “We have lost, Perseus. The gods have gone, the empire has fallen, and we have lost.”

And that, he supposed, was that. The reign of the Olympians was ended. They were well and truly alone.

But, he thought, at least they were together.

“What now?” Endless possibility, he thought. How frightening. “Do we look for the agoge ?”

“I do not see how we can,” she admitted. “Chiron could be anywhere, and I have not the faintest idea of where to begin.”

Neither, unfortunately, did he. They could have been anywhere in the world, but the world was a vast, vast place. “Let us find some place to rest. Tomorrow, we can decide what to do, but tonight, we have earned our respite.”

Their business thus concluded, they wound their way down the cliff, to the city below, in search of some place to rest their heads.

It was not terribly difficult for them to find an inn. Claiming tiredness, Annabeth bade him to go and get them something to eat. “Anything in particular?” he asked.

“Something cheap,” was her perfunctory response. Collapsing onto their shared bed, which was, unfortunately, the only one which had been available in that particular establishment, she turned away from him, curling into herself, and sensing the dismissal for what it was, he left her to it, setting out for food.

Immediately, he wished he had been able to entice her to come with him.

Athens in the evening was quite beautiful. The air had cooled considerably, the low light casting the homes and streets in shades of red and pink and gold. It was smaller than he had expected the great city to be, however. He had been expecting something grander even than Rome, or the city of Constantine, yet what he saw put him more in mind of a small, backwater town. Even to his untrained eye, the buildings were mismatched and patchwork, different styles of marble sewn together haphazardly, unsymmetrically and non-uniformly--a cardinal sin, he gathered, to the keen mind of an architect. From the way Annabeth had spoken of it, Athens by rights should have been the virtual center of the known world, the shining jewel of Hellas and beyond, as it had been in centuries long past. Whatever it may have lacked in people or in great thinkers nowadays, however, there was at least plenty of food to be found. The air here was thick with the heady smells of garlic, salt, and onion, transporting him back to his childhood home, to his mother and her kitchen.

Gods, his mother. In all this time, he had not even spared a thought to her or her husband or their daughter. He had sent them from Constantinople prior to the siege, but he did not know where they had landed. Were they safe? Healthy? Had little Esther been able to sleep through the night without being plagued by any more nightmares? Was his mother able to make her pastries still, with cinnamon and mahleb?

Would he ever see them again?

Without much conscious thought, his wanderings brought him to a stall on the edge of the populated area, every inch covered in reams of fabric, richly hued, in shades of copper and cream and grey. He had passed by hundreds others just like it, so he was not certain why this one had caught his eye. Perhaps coming across this particular stall had simply coincided with an idea he had been concocting, a coincidence of good timing and sudden fortune. Perhaps it had been the length of blue cloth he had seen behind the elderly woman who sat in the center of her tent, eyeing him warily. “See something that piques your fancy?” she asked, though she made no further move to greet him.

“Oh,” he said, “no, thank you. I was merely looking.”

“Finest cloths in the city,” she said, a bold claim, he thought, since he was quite certain he had seen these exact fabrics on display in every little tent he had come across so far. “I make them all myself.”

“I do not have much in the way of money,” he said, hoping she would leave him be.

Oddly enough, that only seemed to excite her. She turned over her shoulder, pulling the bolt of blue down from behind her, and holding it out to him. In the evening light, he thought it might resemble the color of a starless sky, a deep, inky blue. “You have good taste--this color is very fashionable these days.”

“Truly, I have no money,” he said, even as an absurd thought began to form in his mind. The color, he thought, that blue, it would look quite beautiful set against a certain blonde braid.

She sighed. “What do you have?”

“Huh?”

“The malakes noblewoman who ordered this from me has declined to send someone to retrieve it for her for several days now,” she said, “and so it sits in the back of my stall, unsold and taking up valuable space, when it could be in your hands instead, or draped around the shoulders of your beautiful wife.”

Percy blushed. “She’s not--I mean--”

“But because I am a generous businesswoman,” she interrupted, smirking, “show me what you have, and we may be able to come to some arrangement.”

The way she looked at him, all-knowing and altogether too familiar, compelled him to obey. Counting his coins, he laid out his paltry offering before her, the smattering of silver stavrata, Venetian lira, and smaller, duller bronze coins making for a pitiful display, when his fingers fumbled, and a golden drachma tumbled out of his hands, coming to rest before her.

He froze, praying that she would not see it, or if she did, that she might mistake it for an Italian florin, and leave it be.

Naturally, of course, that is what she picked up, her eyes settling upon it almost instantly.

“Well, well, well,” she said, looking at the coin with curiosity. “It has been some time since I have seen one of these.”

“Ah,” Percy started, flushing. That coin was not meant for mortals, and they had precious few of them to spare. “That--I--that is to say--”

“If you are looking for the gods,” she went on, peering at him with new eyes, “I could have saved you the trouble. They are not here. In truth, they have not blessed this land with their presence for some time.”

He blinked, astonished.

With a kindly smile, she tucked the drachma back into his coin purse, swiping some of the lira for herself. “I think this makes for an adequate trade, no?”

Still, he was rendered dumb and speechless.

“Keep an eye on your money, traveler,” she said. “You never know if you will find more.”

The noise of the city was dwindling, down from a lively hum to a low murmur, and the light turned even cooler as the cold moon rose over the cliff. Annabeth would most likely be worried at his long delay, or at least starving. But he could not force himself to move yet. “You’re--” he stammered, “you--”

“Yes, child,” she said. “Now, you should be headed off. The guards do not take kindly to stragglers wandering the streets so late at night.”

There were a million things he wished to ask this woman, important things, questions of ancestry and whether or not there were more of their kind nearby, but all that he was able to say was the terrible, sad news that he carried within his heart. “Constantinople has gone,” he said. “The agoge has vanished.”

Bittersweet, she smiled, folding the shawl for him into a tight bundle. “I know.”

“You do?”

She nodded. “I had a dream.” And thus, she bade him good night.

In a daze, Percy wandered back to the inn where they were staying. On his way back, he had stopped to purchase some food like he promised her he would, settling a loaf of hard, cheap bread and some kefalotiri , as that was all he could afford, but at least it would tide them over for the night, until they decided on the next course of action.

When he returned, Annabeth was no longer lying prone on their bed, but sat upright, her back against the wall, eyes closed. She opened one as he entered, her hand automatically sneaking towards the folds of her dress where he knew she kept her knife, until, upon recognizing him, she relaxed, letting her hand fall back down to her lap.

“Here,” he said, placing the parcels on the bed between them, though he kept the shawl tucked away against his chest, for now. “Dinner.”

“Thank you,” she said, quietly, taking the bread, picking at it with her fingers, slipping the teeniest of bites into her mouth. After some time, she noticed that he was not following suit. “You’re not eating.”

It was not a question. “Ah, I ate mine as I returned to the inn,” he said, easily.

She stared at him, not at all convinced.

“In any case,” he went on, eager to change the topic, “I have been thinking about what we should do next.” He had done nothing of the sort, but hopefully it would take her mind off of the obvious.

“So have I.” She put the bread aside, drawing her knees up to her chest, and hugging them. “I would like to go home.”

Percy frowned. Surely she did not mean Sigeion . She had already indicated her feelings towards the search for Chiron and the rest of camp, namely, that it would be a useless, fruitless, frustrating search, and surely she did not mean Constantinople, lost to the ages. What other home was there?

“You know that my mortal family does not hail from here.”

“I do.” It was not a piece of information well hidden; one only had to look at her pale skin, her blonde hair, and her looming figure to know that she was, in all likelihood, not one of the Hellenes by blood.

She would not look at him, her fingers tapping random patterns over the fabric of her dress. “If he still lives, I should like to see my father.”

“Oh.” That was… unexpected. To anyone who knew her, there were a few core tenants of Annabeth as a person; her love of architecture was one of them, and her distaste for her father was another.

“When I--left him, he lived in a city called Uppsala, far to the North of here.”

“How far?”

She gave him a rueful smile. “Svealand.”

Well. That was indeed quite far. “You mean to travel to Svealand? On your own? That would take near on half a year.”

“To the East of Constantinople, there is an old trading route once used by the Norsemen to travel between their lands and ours,” she said. “A river by the name of Danapris .”

“A river?” he asked, skeptically.

“One that spans nearly the entire continent. In the time of   Basileios II Porphryogennitus, this was the route which delivered his legendary Varangian guard. I know for a fact it has fallen out of use, and the tribes of the Kievan Rus’ no longer roam that area.”

He had never heard of those people before--not that it mattered. “Annabeth, it does not matter how fearsome and ferocious you believe you are, you cannot travel all the way to Svealand by yourself.”

She scowled at him, lips pulling back into a snarl. “I have done so once before.”

“The whole road? By yourself?”

“Well,” she hesitated, “no. Not the whole thing. But I traveled some of it, before Thalia found me.”

“Be that as it may,” for he knew she would attempt to traverse the whole way by herself, merely to spite him, “as Thalia once did for you, let me do as well. I shall accompany you to Svealand.”

Her eyes widened. “Percy, no. You should be looking for Chiron.”

“As you yourself have said, he could be anywhere,” said Percy, “and I may have all the time in the world to find him. In the meantime, I should very much like to see you safely returned to your father.”

“I told you, the road is long since abandoned.”

“And you’ll forgive me if I am skeptical of that fact. Not of you,” he said at the look on her face, “nor your vast pools of knowledge, but even you cannot predict whether or not you shall meet trouble along the road, and it would comfort me greatly if I were able to come along.” Sourly, she opened her mouth as if to argue, but he interrupted her. “Annabeth. You cannot convince me otherwise. I am coming with you.”

Eyes narrowed, she glared at him, before acquiescing. “Fine.”

“Good.”

“Then we should rest. We shall leave at first light on the morrow.” On that abrupt note, she flopped down onto the bed, turning over once again, her back to him. “Good night, Perseus.”

The air was charged between them, with what he could not say, though he could nearly feel it shaking, as taught as bowstring. “Good night,” he said in response. Then, blowing out their room’s solitary candle, he laid himself down to sleep as well, his back to her, and thought not of the bundle of cloth he had purchased on a whim, not of how her golden braid might look against the dark blue fabric, and not of the sweet smile she had given him in the shadow of the Erechtheion. No, he thought of none of these things. Not at all.

[bienmoreau]

Wake up Slow

There is a point in this story, a brief limbo in the trajectory of a life otherwise full of uncertainty and challenge and effort, within which everything is calm and quiet for a while.

On a small island is a small flat on the face of a hill rising over the sea. It is white and blue and terracotta and an olive tree grows in the courtyard below. Looking down from the window of this flat you would see that there is a girl sat on the wall of this courtyard reading in the morning sun and further down where the rocks meet the waves a ship is being made ready by a band of aspiring privateers. Like these two tableaux the island itself has been awake for a while now, the quiet susurration of life and activity weaving into the sounds of the breeze and the waves and the cicadas.

But all these things are background, they paint picture, a good picture, but one that is held within the frame of a small curved window. Through this window, left open to allow the sea air in, sunlight streams across the floor and over two figures sprawled out under white sheets.

Percy has his face buried in his pillow, his arm flung out off the bed and their sheet tangled around his hips. His other arm is tucked in between their bodies but his hand reaches toward Monty, fingers twisting the hem of his sleep shirt and not letting go even as Monty shifts and wakes, slow and happy as the world comes into focus around him.

The days here are long and easy, filled with swimming and music and laughter. Monty doesn’t think he could ever have enough of them.

Especially not when they start with mornings like this, mornings where he gets to roll over the sleeping form of his best friend, the man he loves, has loved for so long now, and finally act on that love. Where he can cover Percy’s back and shoulders with soft kisses until the feeling of his lips and the soft tickle of his hair get too much to sleep through. Where he gets to relish in the prospect of yet another morning full of Percy. Yet another morning full of getting to touch and be touched. Of sleepy kisses and silly jokes and Percy Percy Percy.

The man in question stirs under him and turns his head to smile a lopsided smile over his shoulder. Their eyes meet and Percy sighs a muffled “G’ morning” before shutting his eyes again the smile never leaving his lips.

There is, in that moment, nothing in the whole world that Monty would consider more beautiful.

Sometimes, in the days since they arrived here and the world finally slowed down around them enough for him to catch his breath, Monty catches himself off guard in moments like these and wonders if this isn’t all just some extraordinary dream. If he isn’t going to wake any moment now and find himself back in England, back in his fathers house, and Percy once again hideously, heartbreakingly far away while still standing right next to him.

It’s enough to scare him out of any daydream but luckily their current situation is more than that.

Percy chuckles into the pillow and Monty realises he must have missed something being said to him, it happens more than he’d like these days what with the ringing in his head and the imbalance of his hearing. Felicity tells him it will quiet with time and that he will adjust to only having one ear. Monty wants to believe that she’s right but that would mean admitting that his ear won’t, in fact, grow back eventually.

Percy rolls over in the space under Monty’s arms and tangles his legs with Monty’s, curling his body in against the pale skin of Monty’s hip and pressing his own kiss there.

“That was a nice my to wake up. What time is it?”

“Oh late enough for it to be indecent to still be in bed but early enough that no one’s going to come looking.”

Percy huffs a laugh but there is a flash of something in his eyes and he reaches a hand up to brush the hair on Monty’s good side back behind his ear. Letting his finger tips trail down over his cheek and neck to rest over his collarbone as he takes Monty in.

“So beautiful”

It’s said on a soft breath, so quiet in the air between them and Monty flushes a little at the sincerity of it. He would have liked to have a witty comeback except that this all still rather a lot for him and they’re still getting used to speaking so plainly about these long kept secrets and his head feels like it might start spinning again so instead he just leans forward and presses his head to Percy’s chest. Lets his breathing match the heartbeat he hears drumming away in there. He can’t deny the dimples though or the way that such a simple thing makes him feel invincible.

It’s a startling feeling and takes Monty by storm, so much like the time he sat waiting to be collected from Eaton. Only this time, after everything they have been through, that surge of defiance and righteousness isn’t that of a naive boy sure that things would always go his way, but of a man who knows now that his father is nothing more than a flawed and angry man who would never get the chance to hurt him like that again. That no matter what his father had tied to teach him then, Monty was right after all. The unshakable surety that they were doing nothing wrong swelled inside him like it never had before and almost brought him to tears. His hand came up and he gripped at Percy’s fingers and drew in a heavy sigh.

“Is it a day for staying in bed my love?” Monty just nods against him and slumps further into Percy’s open arms and lets his free hand come up to run though his hair.

Maybe later they’ll go walking, or Percy will play violin. Scipio will no doubt call them down for dinner later on and Felicity will want to play doctor with his face for a while. But all these things fade into the background, lost among the cicadas and crash of waves. The wind picks up and the leaves outside the widow clamour with it but all Monty can hear his Percy’s heart and the way his breathing matches his own and with Percy’s arms around him all he can think is how abso-bloody-lutely perfect this moment is.

[rosywaifu]

Home {A Percy Jackson Oneshot}

Hi Everyone! This is for @coldheartedgay ‘s AU: 

“Can I ask a small request from a PJ AU I made? The general premise is that Half Bloods are born with certain hair color depending on their Godly Parent. Percy - Aqua Annabeth - Silverish blonde Grover - Deep Green Etc.” 

I read this request at one in the morning, so I may have gone a little off-book so if this isn’t what you had in mind, LMK and I will redo it to what you actually wanted! But, when I reread it this morning, I thought what I wrote was actually kind of cute so here you go! Please, enjoy and keep requesting, I love it!! 

Percy brushed the hair from his forehead, trying different hairstyles by pushing and pulling the strands in different positions. He made faces at his reflection; pouted lips, smoldering eyes, sucked in cheeks for the haute couture look. Finally, he let his aquamarine locks flop against his forehead framing the deep green eyes staring back at him. He was worried about today. If all went well, he’d be engaged. He gave his appearance a last once-over and walked out of his cabin. The air was warm but he was able to stay cool from the breeze coming in from the ocean. He brushed the invisible dirt from his dark blue dress shirt, not being able to keep from fidgeting from his nerves. He tucked and smoothed and picked at his entire shirt to keep his nerves smothered. Once he reached the door of the Athena Cabin, he was sure his shirt was worse than when he started. After a deep breath of the May evening air, he rapped his knuckles three times sharply against the dark oak wood. He took a step back to let the air take hold in the space between him and the door. Hardly a second passes before the door swings open to reveal the silver haired beauty that was Annabeth. Percy drank in her appearance appreciatively; soft, silvery hair curled like a princesses draping down her shoulders with just the slightest bounce. Her tanned skin sporting a bright smile. Her dark grey sweater dress contrasted nicely against her hair and complimented her skin tone. Her camp necklace adorned on her neck. Percy thought she was incredibly beautiful and could hardly keep himself from proposing right there in the door way in front of all her siblings. “Wow, Seaweed Brain, you look great! Very dashing.” She smiled as she teased slightly with her words, but meaning every one. “Not so bad your self, Wise Girl. Took my breath away.” He said smoothly making her smile as she clasped his hand tightly into her own as she closed the door behind her. “Ah, I thought Piper got a little crazy with all the primping but seeing how smart you’re dressed, i’m glad she made me look so nice- even for just a casual date.” She sighed as she talked, half because she was so content with walking with Percy right then and half because she was frustrated he never gets any of the hints she’s dropping to have him propose. Annabeth wasn’t normally one to beat around the bush, but she had let Piper and Hazel convince her that proposing was a delicate matter. She had to use subtlety, they said. It had been 3 months now and Annabeth was about ready to shove that subtlety right in its—

“So, I thought we’d have a picnic near the strawberry fields and the water.” Percy’s voice musing out his plan for the evening kept her from finishing her derailed train of thought. “Sounds lovely, Percy.” They walked in step to the place where Percy was sure he pulled off the most romantic picnic area that ever was. A deep blue and grey plush rug, mechanical candles (as to not start and forest fires), fresh strawberries, cherries, macaroons, and sparkling lemonade. He wanted to get champagne to toast to like they do in the movies, but Chiron, as happy as he was that Percy was proposing the Annabeth, would not bend the rules of no alcohol on camp; even to those of legal drinking age. So, sparkling lemonade it was. Annabeth gasped at all the effort, Percy went through- all the food and drink with the candles glowing in the fading blue sky, even lily pads with little pink and purple flowers floated atop to the water in the little inlet. The whole area looked like a magic forest. She gave Percy a big smile who looked a little sheepish at her happiness. He wanted to make this their most memorable date yet. Sure it was happening at camp, and not a fancy french restaurant but camp was home and their favorite place to be, especially with each other. They sat down and talked about random things and nearly anything that popped into her head. Annabeth talked about the new building design she came up with, explaining all the intricate and delicate ideas and designs she came up for it. Percy half listened to Annabeth, truly trying to listen no matter how hard it was for him to pay attention when she talked about stuff like architecture. He wasn’t super into it but that didn’t mean he didn’t try to pay attention and ask quality questions. The other half fretted about the right time to pop the question without cutting her off too soon or waiting until the end of the date. Soon, Annabeth started asking questions for Percy; how his day went, what he had done since the last time they saw each other (which was only since breakfast that morning). Percy’s tensed shoulders relaxed at talking about the sea animal he got to save that day; a large sea dragon of sorts, about the size of a baby calf, got caught in flurry of fisherman’s hook, fishing poles and netting. He got pretty banged up and his dad sent word to him, via hippocampi, that the mythical creature needed his help. And Percy truly animated when he told the tale of his daring rescue, diving under the ocean waves, swimming as far as the English docks to rescue the incredible creature. Annabeth smiled as she could literally feel the love he had for animals. Eventually, the evening began winding down as Percy felt the anticipation buzzing his every nerve. Annabeth began to clean up but Percy stopped her quickly. “Hold off on that a second. I-i have to talk to you..” his voice was jilted and stiff. Annabeth had a gut instant fear that he was breaking up with her. Would Percy really be the type of guy who would give her a great last date before breaking her heart, like how you give your dog the best last day before having to put him down just so they have one last good memory? Percy, with how completely endearing he is, and idiotic, would probably think a great last date would ease the blow of a breakup, unknowing how wrong he was. Annabeth’s moment of doubt was quickly scrubbed away as she remembered how amazing her relationship was with her boyfriend. Things started to ease as they left their teen years behind; calm and soothing. They spent a great deal of time with one another but still had their own friends and lives as to not smother one another. In fact, it was her relationship being so great that led her to wanting to get married in the first place. She stood up and grasped Percy’s hand gently as he led her a tad closer to the water, wanting to feel the comfortable rock of the waves; encouraging him. He knelt down and grasped both her hands tightly in his grasp. “Annabeth, I love you so much, I would probably, no actually i know i would have died without you back when we were twelve on our first quest together. You have saved my butt so many times over the last ten years, I know i’ve saved yours at least half as many. Without you, my life would be less interesting. I wouldn’t know any of the differences of buildings, I wouldn’t understand what it means to be a hero at all without you teaching me your resolve, confidence, determination and power. You are the most incredible, smart, beautiful, infuriating and talented person i’ve ever met. I love getting lost in our discussions on the lives of the greeks might going on, I love getting lost in ADHD and caffeine fueled ramblings. I love to being in the same room as you. I have been building to this moment for years now.” He pulled out a ring box and exposed the small and dainty silver ring, with the most intricate engraving of wave designs and olive branches interchanging curling up to wrap around the small and modest ocean colored jewel. The jewel seemed to change color with the light passing through it giving it the appearance as if the jewel contained a part of the Mediterranean sea within it. “Annabeth “Wise Girl” Chase, will you do me the absolute pleasure of becoming your husband, your meddling partner, for good?” His eyes twinkled with hope and promise, a smile tearing his face apart as he stared adoringly at her deep storming grey eyes pool with love and excitement. Annabeth fell to her knees, a large smile unable to be constrained on her face. “Yes! Gods, yes seaweed brain! I love you!” And before Percy could slip the dainty ring on her finger, she pulled him into a kiss, embracing him fully, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. His own arms pulling her closer into him, wrapping his own arms tightly around her waist. Seconds later, they pulled apart and Percy was able to pull the ring from the box and slide it softly onto her ring finger. As he did so, Annabeth reveled in the fact that some times when the light danced perfectly on the sparkling jewel, it looked like it was colored as vibrantly aqua as Percy’s hair. Percy watched her face smile at her new rings as she admired it. “I got the jewel straight from the ocean. I went deep sea diving for months looking for the perfect one. When I saw it, the filtered light from the sun streaking through the ocean made it look silvery blue and it reminded me of you; your eyes and your hair. Plus I had Leo and Tyson design the actual ring part, giving my two-sense about the design here and there of course but they built it. However i did make sure they included a specific point.” He smiled conspiratorially, making her arch her eyebrow in piqued curiosity. He gently grabbed her wrist and gently pushed the jewel deeper into the ring. It turned into a half shield, covering her wrist to her elbow and about her arms width above and below. She marveled at the beautiful shield; deep silver with the etched designs of ocean waves and olive branches seemingly moving in wave patterns across the shield. “I named it stavroménoi erastés, meaning Star Crossed Lovers, as a reminder I guess that even though our parents hated each other, our friendship and love can survive and conquer anything. To always protect you and to have a little piece of me when we’re apart.” He winked with the boyish grin adorning his features. Out of the corner of her eye, Annabeth saw something move near the bushes. And thanks to the nearby ocean, Percy had the same quick instinct. With incredible precision from years of battle reflexes, that and living this close to a forest packed with monsters and Clarisse, Percy drew his sword Riptide from his pocking, dislodging the cap as he pulled it out, ready for use just as Annabeth shielded part of her face with her shiny new sword as she drew the dagger that had previously been strapped to the outside of her upper thigh. They pointed their weapons to the noise, poised to attack at the slightly motion of an ambush. “Show yourself!” Annabeth called with incredible strength, almost making Percy want to drop his weapon at her mercy. He thanked all the gods on his good list that he never had to be on the business end of her dagger like that. Suddenly a large tuft of forest green hair appeared above some of the bushes, sporting rather silly looking branches, that Annabeth quickly deciphered as horns. Soon a glimpse of pink hair, flaming red hair, sky blue hair, dark black hair, dark, oil slicked-looking red hair, bright gold hair and blood red hair peaked over the top. Percy And Annabeth shared amused looks before lowering their weapons. The spots of colored hair soon officially identified themselves as Grover, Piper, Clarisse, Jason, Nico, Leo, Hazel and Frank. They all shared a slight look of embarrassment but it was more or less overshadowed by their excitement. “S-s-sorry, guys! We couldn’t help but watch! We would never want to miss the proposal of Percabeth!” Grover bleated. He ran and gave Percy the manliest embrace he could muster. Suddenly, the whole gang was surrounding them, cheering him for finally being able to muster the courage to do it, admiring the ring, and celebrating their engagement between the favorite couple of camp half-blood. As much as Percy wanted to be mad and embarrassed that they had all heard him pour his heart out and let it gush all over the place, he was actually very glad to have his own little cheer squad, cheering him on and lending their support to this anticipated moment. Annabeth was a little more angry than Percy but her anger quickly subsided as her friends gushed over the idea of a wedding making her insides feel all giddy and excited. The stole a glance at one another over the roar of love and support from their friends, no- family and admired each others glow of love making their hair glitter silver and aqua in the bright, sparkling moon. He was so glad he proposed, knowing right there, right then, the wedding would most definitely take place here at camp; at home.

Word Count: 2,261

[edenfalling]

[Fic] Random fragments that I will never finish

[wolf-in-a-suit]

3 < 9..., 10

The familiar scent of wood and something Harry couldn't place engulfed him after he stepped over threshold. One could search the whole planet to find perfection in art, beauty, philosophy but for him this came as close as one could get- he would never let anyone hear these thoughts however, or the boy would be teased for their corny nature endlessly.

Looking around the mismatching furniture of the borrow he wondered how a place could feel so welcoming. Almost like a warm embrace after a time abroad.

The dust he noted seemed to be in perfect balance with the unwritten laws of nature. Not too much and barely enough to not make you feel you had to watch yourself over dirtying the house. Aunt Petunia would scream at the sight and whip out a duster- and probably disinfectant.

Harry pondered this while Fred and George, running away from a cursing Ginny-who had something weird pink and fluffy stuck in her hair- passed. Following their haste was a small glittering of dust raised into the air, dancing in the light.

The crackling fire: sending warmth in even the coldest of winter days perhaps?

Mr. Weasley grinning broadly stuck his newest muggle gismo, an alarm clock, into Harry’s line of sight. They ended up discussing the wonders of electronics yet again deep into the night, until Mrs. Weasley shushed both of them to bed.

The warm wooden floor, where Ron and his best friend spend their time working- or pretending to work- on essays.  Under the watchful eye of Percy who always had advice for possible problems and was happy to help- and also to constantly tell them to suck it up and stop dodging work.

The sounds: Laughter from the twins claiming they just wanted to show Mr. Weasley the alarm clock in action and simply set the wrong time - 3.00 am.

Mrs. Weasley meanwhile, scolding them for their behavior, Percy tutting disapprovingly next to her, a small snicker coming from the sole sister behind Harry and Ron and them trying to stifle their own laughs; lest they pull the wrath of the furious woman onto themselves!

"Harry what are you doing? Come here." Ron gesticulated to a spot beside him. "Well, someone should take the picture..." Bill chuckled at this: "First of all: It's a magic camera, obviously it can take the photo itself." "And secondly it wouldn't be a family photo..." George started "...without you in it. Now would it?" Fred echoed. The raven haired boy didn’t answer, a lump had formed in his throat. So he just shuffled to the side of the family and was surprised when two pairs of hands grabbed him and dragged him into the middle.

At that very moment, standing in between Mr. Weasley, a hand on Harrys arm, with the twins grinning broadly behind him- trying to give Ron rabbit ears- and Charlie having thrown an arm around his shoulders, Harry had found the simplest answer to his question. Yet he would never be able to put it into words, fearful of destroying the delicate balance established.

Later that day Percy passed through the living room and found Harry watching the picture on the fireplace, a treacherous dampness in his eyes.

Harry startled when he felt the pad on his back. Turning he found the diligent perfect looking deep into his eyes, giving stability to Harry’s feelings-who in the last few days seemingly decided to take a salsa class right next to a steep cliff.

"No turning back now. I suppose you’re stuck with us."

Crash! At the sound of a lot of things breaking overhead and the following sets of laughter Percy rolled his eyes. "All of us I suppose."

After a cry of 'I found his badge' drifted down, the boy was storming up the staircase taking two flights of stairs with each jump. Wheezing: “They wouldn’t dare!”

Green eyes drifted back to the picture.

He remembered the fireplace at privet drive, the pictures showing a family of three. A small smile crept on his face, there in the middle of a sea of red hair, a black mob of defiant black clashed with the colors around him. He had never been good at math but one thing he knew for sure:

Nine… no ten was definitely more than three… in more than just numbers.

[piratekenway]

Vox Machina and Mighty Nein roleswap AU, tho. HEAR ME OUT, it would be fun.

in this AU the Nein live in Tal'Dorei and VM live in Wildemount. either that or Emon is a more authoritarian empire and the Dwendalian Empire is just more chill and governed by a council.

VOX MACHINA:

Vex and Vax were long separated by their elven father and they only recently came across each other again. in a jail cell. under arrest for crimes. which they then set on fire so they could scurry on out of there. Vex is a little bit of a mess bc she went with their dad, and meanwhile Vax the village he lived in burn down bc of a war and has some Issues with fire as a result.

they adopt a bear cub along the way. baby bear cub plays a huge role in many of their cons.

Pike is a cleric of the Everlight, one of the permitted gods in the Empire, but she also is willing to look the other way re: non-permitted gods, bc faith expresses itself in different ways. she happens to be in town when the Fletching & Moondrop carnival drops in, and decides to go check it out.

Scanlan is absolutely a carnival promoter and has been working on the best act of all time for the circus. he's pissed off when the zombies happen. deeply so.

Grog is also carnival security and he and Pike fell out of touch a while back but when they see each other again it's like seeing a sibling you've missed for years. he lets her watch the show from his shoulders, and refuses to give anyone else the privilege.

Keyleth is a very sweet half-elven monk who was sent out into the world to learn more about it, and also comes from a place of privilege that sheltered her greatly before she entered the monk life. she's having a rough time now that she's out in the world, bc she's an awkward mess and also her view on things is fairly black and white. Vex flirts with her once and Keyleth spends the whole time blushing, but when the circus goes to hell she's one of the first to spring into action and fight.

Percy totally made a deal in a dream with a shady shadow monster so he could take revenge on the Empire-made nobles the Briarwoods who killed his family and then put out a bounty on his head. guns might have been invented years ago but he is very good at improving his guns. he runs into Keyleth and Pike in Trostenwald and decides to take up adventuring with them. he did not expect to take up adventuring with more people than just Keyleth and Pike. especially not with Cassandra?? he thought she DIED.

Cassandra died in a forest two years ago and came back with very little memory, and she picked up a job at the circus as the resident juggler. she is also very good at picking locks and bullshitting people. Scanlan is so proud of her.

"the days you're gonna have are the days that you're gonna have," says Vex, while they are on their way to the city.

"who the FUCK said that, that is STUPID," says Percy.

also: hospital heist, featuring Scanlan spewing vomit everywhere and getting tossed into a patient too, Vax tossing Trinket at some orderlies screaming MY BEAR IS DYING GET HELP and making a break for the office of a corrupt official's physician son, and no one getting the goddamn object of the mission like at ALL.

MIGHTY NEIN

Caleb and Nott have known each other for a long time and they are basically inseparable. they bicker like siblings and like to fuck with each other, but at the end of the day they will lay down their lives for each other. which is not great bc when Nott does die Caleb basically makes a deal with the Raven Queen to bring back his best friend.

also Caleb's family and village burned down in a fire too, but he was out for that time and came back, with an injured goblin girl in the equivalence of her early childhood, to see the whole place was just. gone. burned to ashes.

Yasha used to be a slave in the Nine Hells, but somehow clawed her way back up with the help of the Storm Lord. now she's traveling around with this group of assholes calling themselves the Mighty Nein for some godforsaken reason. then she hears about some weird shit going on and realizes that the demon that used to be her master is terrorizing a town along with his herd of minions.

Molly woke up buried in the dirt like two years ago and stumbled into Yasha's company, and he's just been her constant companion ever since. it is really weird seeing them together bc a more unlikely pair you will never see. also Molly's past splinter group of blood hunters took over a small town too and started experimenting, so that's fun, he's a little bit freaked out about this, what the fuck? what the actual fuck, past self?

Beau is a human from idk some magical order who just packed up and ran off bc fuck you, she doesn't WANT to be responsible for shit. the Nein found her in a jail cell for disturbing the peace and starting a bar fight and the first thing she does is flirt with Yasha. she might have magic and shapeshifting abilities but you'd never know it from the way she uses her staff to just hit people over the head.

Fjord made a deal with a god after some shit went down at sea and a mutiny happened and he nearly drowned. he invented guns right after that dream, and feels kind of terrible about that but there's something he has to do with them first, before he can hang them up. he and Jester meet first, and they have a Spark.

Jester is a cleric from Nicodranas! she says that almost every time they meet someone for the first time, bc she hopes one day someone will say, "you're Jester, from Nicodranas? I know your father!" she and Fjord met the slowly-coalescing Nein after Fjord got kidnapped by some weird dude who wanted to become a lich and needed a sacrifice to do it, and she went to get help from experienced adventurers.

Molly and Caleb keep dancing around each other for a while, Molly keeps flirting with Caleb and Caleb is just the most awkward in receiving these comments, and it doesn't help that Molly just flirts with a lot of people. he even has this thing going with the shopkeeper Gilmore! and then he ends up actually falling in love with Caleb which is all kinds of inconvenient for all involved, and then tragic later on.

Fjord goes on a gunslinging rampage with his pajama flap down and Jester has the time of her life.

[random-ffandom]

I did it! I’m so so sorry it took so long. Dear @ashstars this is your @feastoffortuna2017 gift. I hope you have a great summer. Enjoy!

Also, suggestion of domestic abuse, mention of blood and one or two swearwords ahead. Be warned.

Percy always loved the idea of soulmates. Of spending life with someone who is meant for you. Even years of living under one roof with Smelly Gabe and seeing how he treats Sally couldn't change anything. He just knew that somewhere out there is a girl waiting for him. He couldn’t wait to find her.

It was the first warm, truly spring day this year, so Sally decided to celebrate it byl picking up Percy from the day care a bit earlier. Sharp black letters on her collarbone visible under the wide neckline of her light, summer dress. Percy looked at them curiously.

“What does it say, mommy?” he asked.

“‘Don't cry my dear, I will came back.’ It was the last thing your father said to me” Sally looked at her child with sad smile.

“He was your soulmate?”

“Yes, my dear, he was my first and biggest love.”

“So why did you marry Gabe, mommy?”

“People don't always get to spend whole life with their soulmate, Percy. Sometimes it is just how it is.”

Percy frowned.

“Do you regret?”

Sally looked at her little boy, eyeing her with all seriousness of five year old who try to understand adult world. How could she tell him about long sleepless nights, when Poseidon didn’t come back, nights she spent crying, pregnant and and alone? Or about nights she tried to even breath silently, to not attract Gabe’s atencion? How could she tell him about all her regrets? No, that are not things mother should discuss with her child. Nor now, nor ever.

“Not even one bit, honey.”

But the topic of soulmates fascinated Percy, so it wasn’t long for him to start asking questions again.

“So, mommy, when person finds their soulmate, their tattoo changes to the last words they say to them, right?”

Sally finished washing dishes, dried her hands and turn to face her son.

“Yes, honey. That’s how you know they’re the one.” she answered.

“And what is it before?”

“Their first words to you”

“And what were dad’s first words to you?”

Sally grinned.

“Oh, it was terrible. Imagine spending first eighteen years of your life with ‘Are you an octopus? Because you octopi my thoughts’ on your body.”

Percy giggled. He ran back to his room and later this evening Sally, standing at the door, saw him playing with toy cars and muttering ‘octopi my thoughts’ under his breath.

Learning to read put Percy through hell. He tried. Swear to God, he tried his best but he just couldn’t do it. Letters seemed to wander around the page. He spent countless hours sitting with Sally at the kitchen table, trying to put them together.  The only thing that made him keep trying and trying again and again and again was the promise of finally knowing what the tattoo is saying. He asked his mother about it repeatedly, but Sally always would shake her head and say he has to find out himself.

And he finally did. It was the night before Christmas, Sally finally made him brush his teeth and go to bed, but he was still lying with his torchlight on, staring at letters on his stomach. The first one was “S”, that was sure. He squinted. “S… S… E… Se… Sea!” His heart beated faster. Not only that he managed to read the first part, but apparently it has something to do with sea. Does she love sea as much as he do? or maybe they’re going to meet at the seaside? Or… He went to sleep excited and happy. It was better than anything that would happen during this Christmas anyway.

“Seaweed brain”. And what is that supposed to mean? Percy glared at his tattoo suspiciously. But no. This time he surely have gotten it right. It's strange, yes. It's incomprehensible too. But these are first words of his soulmate. But it's good, this way he will find her easier. Right?

Percy came out slamming the door. Blood was rushing in his veins and humming in his ears. He was mad. More. He was furious. His fights with Gabe became lately more frequent and more aggressive. Percy longingly counted the days dividing him from leaving to college. Muttering under his breath he shoved his hands into his pockets, kicked the rock and moved towards the subway. He decided that he’ll hang out with his best friend Grover for some time. Maybe he could spend the night at his place too. But it's Saturday, so Grover is probably out in town with his soulmate - girlfriend Juniper protesting for the Great Panda or some other Greenpeace-y thing. Percy didn't have mind or nerves to search for them through the whole city so he decided he will just crush on Grover’s doormat and wait for the friend to come home.

All those thoughts ran through his head while he rode down the escalator. Like on an autopilot he moved toward the platform. And then he hit something. Something meaning in this case very beautiful girl with light blonde curls and stormy gray eyes. But real storm was yet about to start.

“Seaweed brain!” she shouted and his stomach suddenly did a flip. “What makes you think you can just wander around and knock people off their feet?”

She was furious and he was speechless. This girl, this pretty, pretty girl just called him seaweed brain! Is she his soulmate? Is he really this lucky? He wanted to take off his shirt and check the tattoo, but he couldn't. After all they were in subway and she was shouting at him. Wait! She was shouting at him! Realizing he zoned out, he quickly shook his head and helped her get up.

“I’m so sorry” he said with heart in his throat. Quickly! He has to say something or she will disappear in the crowd and he’ll lose his soulmate forever. “May I make up for that and buy you a coffee?”

He watched her face softens and, God, how is this humanly possible to be that beautiful?  

“Given that, thanks to you, I’m almost late for my lecture, not now. But if tomorrow the offer will still stand, I’d love to.” She smiled kindly.

“You have lectures on Saturday? What kind of course do you take?”

“Extramural studies, second course” She answered

“You impress me. So, coffee tomorrow. How will I find you?”

She quickly pulled a sheet of paper out of her notebook and scribed something on it.

“That’s an adress of my favourite coffee shop. Tomorrow at five p.m.?”

Percy couldn’t believe his luck.

“Yeah, great!”

“See you then, Seeweed Brain”

“I’ll be waiting, Wise Girl”

Grover didn’t even had a chance to say a word. Percy rushed through the door and started taking off his shirt.

“Woah, easy dude. You’re not exactly my type, you know?”

“Shut up, I think I found her” Percy snapped back staring at his abdomen. He felt his knees weakening and he fell on the floor. “Or maybe I didn’t.” The tattoo still was saying “Seaweed Brain”

“Could you, just for a second stop being a fucking drama queen and tell me what’s going on?” Grover looked far from happy with his friend almost sobbing on his floor.

“I ran into the most beautiful and clever girl I’ve ever met and she called me Seaweed Brain. I thought she’s the one, so I asked her out, but my tattoo hasn’t changed. What do I do now?”

Grover sighed.

“You asked her out?”

“Yup, but I’m not coming.”

“And why? From what you’re saying, she’s a keeper.”

“Yeah, but she’s not HER”

Grover rolled his eyes.

“No, she isn’t but she’s smart and pretty. You don’t have to marry her or anything. Just go out with her and have some good time.”

Percy noded.

And here we are. Percy Jackson is waiting in coffee shop for a date he doesn’t want. He came a little early but the girl is late, so he is almost finishing his tea wondering if she will show up at all. Then he spots her in the crowd across the street. She’s rushing, her hair shining in the afternoon sun. She sees him to, notice him just the second before stepping on the roadway. She raises her hand to wave. And then the car hits her. Even years later Percy always could recall every second of what was happening. She flies few meters like a rag doll. She hits the ground. Her hair are scattered on the ground. The dark and thick trickle of blood runs down her chin. He runs to her, kneels beside her and takes her face in his hands. Her eyelids flutter.

“Seaweed Brain!” Her voice is rough and broken but she forces herself to smile. And then she close her eyes and everything goes silent.

Two realizations hit Percy at once. He doesn’t even know her name. And, sometimes in very rare cases, the tattoo never needs to change.

[mannunope]

HOO Superhero AU

This pretty much covers the Olympians. Percy, Annabeth, Frank, Hazel, Jason, Piper, Leo, and Nico. They only unite for large scale threats, like Kronos, an immortal time controlling warrior from the Bronze Age, Calamity, a woman who can shake the Earth to it’s very core and the one responsible for the destruction of the Atlanteans, and the Snow Queen, a woman who controls and creates a deadly form of ice that is poisonous even to the Olympians. She seeks to freeze the whole world over with her lethal ice and leave no survival for humanity.

Alright so I couldn’t keep this in. I cannot stop thinking of a superhero AU for PJO, and I’ll be damned if I take it to my grave.

Percy

His superhero alias is the Typhoon.

He can control water, it’s temperature, and has control over it’s two other states (vapor and ice).

He swims crazy fast. Like, 240 mph crazy fast.

He is strong enough to lift 25 tons above land.

He can lift 50 tons when under or submerged in water.

If the situation deems it necessary, Percy can create tsunamis and hurricanes.

On one scary occasion, he controls blood and poison. He has only used this ability once.

Percy has divinity over all sea animals. He’s pretty tight with the Loch Ness Monster, though.

He doubles as Percy Jackson, 20 year old lifeguard and college student majoring in marine biology.

For in those really tough spots, water heals Percy of almost any wound.

So basically, Percy is a way cooler Aquaman.

He wields an indestructible glowing bronze cutlass (a lil pirate theme) with blue Atlantean runes that glow whenever he uses his powers. It’s an ancient Atlantean sword found under the ruins  of Atlantis, only to be wielded by it’s king.

Percy’s been a superhero since the age of fourteen.

His role in the Olympians is the loose cannon/the glue that keeps them together. He sometimes takes charge in areas where Jason lacks the strength to.

Annabeth

So her name is totally the Silver Owl.

Annabeth has eidetic memory.

She had a genius level intellect with an IQ of 205.

She is an excellent strategist...so don’t ever go against her in chess. She can and will demolish you.

She is a pro gymnast and acrobat, with a ninth degree black belt in karate. She has peak human everything. So yeah...she kicks ass.

Annabeth can become naked to the human eye.

Later on, she also can become intangible, allowing for gruesome torture tactics on spies and villains that won’t talk. She rarely does this.

Annabeth engineered these awesome silver wings that are almost sentient.

They are synced up to her mind, so they react like extra limbs.

Her wings’ feathers are deadly and razor sharp. With a single thought, Annabeth can fire them machine gun style at an enemy.

These feathers are magnetic, so they return back to her wings once their uses are fulfilled.

These feathers can break through steel.

By day she is a part time librarian and a 21 college student getting her masters in Architecture.

She serves as the strategist of the group and the voice of reason.

She’s been at this superhero shit since the age of nine.

Frank

I struggled with this one, but the superhero name I came up with for him is the Crimson Beast.

Frank can turn into any beast imaginable.

Unicorn? Been there, done that.

Dragon? Please, don’t make him laugh.

Lizard with the butt of a donkey? Frank would hate to admit it, but he’s tried it before.

He is crazy strong. His limit is 75 tons.

Frank can telepathically communicate with any animal in existence.

He is honestly bulletproof.

For some reason, when I think of superhero!Frank, I think of a X from Magnus Chase. So yeah, berserker!Frank.

When you piss Frank off too hard, he becomes an invulnerable, nigh unstoppable force of nature.

He is one of the two legacies on the team. A legacy is a descendent of a superhero. Frank’s father, Berserker,

He serves as the muscle of the team.

Don’t worry though, he’s still a softie on the inside. He’s an 20 year old college student who majors in Veterinary Medicine.

Frank’s been at this doing his thing since he was 15.

Hazel

She is the Misteria

Hazel summon’s jewels to her aide, as well as being able to cause earthquakes.

Her eyes glow a golden yellow when she uses her “Mist” abilities.

Her “Mist” can curse objects and people with bad luck.

She can fire her jewels straight from the ground with some thought.

It eventually gets to the point where she can summon a layered and protective barrier of gems to protect her from most any attack.

Her mist control can also erase memories

A strong 40 tonner.

Hazel doesn’t even wield her sword. She controls it telepathically.

Hazel is a high school sophomore who just wants to prove herself. She lives with her half brother Nico di Angelo and their father, Hades.

She works at her father’s jewelry store with Piper.

Jason

Now presenting to you, the paragon of justice- Skybolt!

This dude can fly.

He can control the winds and storms.

Jason can fly at speeds up to 250 mph.

He’s pretty strong-a 40 tonner.

He can create a funnel of wind to misdirect most long distance attacks.

Jason fights with the use of his electrokinesis.

He’s a long ranged type of guy, who likes blasting his enemies from afar.

He is struggling with the concept of electromagnetism, while his older sister, Thalia, was bomb af at it.

He is much more comfortable with his air powers though, and can literally take one’s breath away. Tornadoes are his shit.

Best believe he is the golden boy and the leader of the Olympians.

He is known for keeping calm in tough situations.

He is constantly trying to live up to his powerful father, Captain Jupiter’s expectations.

He’s been superheroing ever since he was 6 years old and thrust into the role as Captain Jupiter’s sidekick since Thalia pulled a Nightwing.

Eventually he grows out of the sidekick role and owns villains on his own terms.

He is an 20 year old college student studying economics.

Piper

Her name is Nightingale

Her voice is appealing to anyone who hears it.

Like it takes the sound of whatever sound is most appealing to the person.

It lulls you asleep as your body takes over to whatever she wants you to do.

Her power is hypnosis, and she uses that to her advantage a lot.

This power has grown to the point where she can even control animals and mass (100-200) hordes of people before using up energy.

She also uses a form of precognition, in which she can see glimpses of the future.

She can also sense feelings. She has to touch the person first in order to gain this.

This indirectly allows her to find the most important tie to their soul (the person’s most powerful memory).

She can also bring the recently dead back to life. She can restart a heart and lessen pain intake with her sweet, soft voice.

By day she is an 20 year old, insanely talented journalist.

She often functions as the distraction in missions.

Leo

Leo is Infierno.

He, obviously, has pyrokinesis.

His white hot flames can mend steel.

Leo is very pissed that the Human Torch in comics can fly but he can’t.

He has found a way by inventing the F.E.S.T.U.S. Network, which can do a variety of things. Hacking into supercomputers, access to stoplight signals, records of all criminals; you name it, it can do it.

F.E.S.T.U.S. can deploy a fire proof hoverboard meant to clock in at speeds of 200 mph.

He can sort of glide without it by lightning his arms on fire as thrusters.

Leo keeps the F.E.S.T.U.S. network in a high tech red watch.

Leo is impervious to heat and has a high tolerance to low temperatures.

He is wary around ice, since the evil supervillain the Snow Queen wields it with malicious intent, and is dominates his only weakness.

Leo is a 20 mechanic who helps out in his dad’s workshop ever since his older brother, Charles, died.

Leo functions as the team’s technician, though is jokingly called by Piper the “Repair Boy” and by Percy as “Grease Monkey”.

Leo hates this. He will, however, answer to Supreme Commander Leo.

Leo has been a superhero since the age of 15.

Nico di Angelo

Nico di Angelo is the Night Wraith.

Nico serves as the team’s detective.

He can summon ghosts. He often uses them to find any leads on villains.

He uses a form of teleportation known as shadow travelling to get from Point A to Point B.

He later on finds that he can summon the undead to his aid and create his own band of skilled zombie soldiers.

His favorite thing to do is summon a huge ass T-Rex skeleton to do his bidding and ride on.

Nico is so skilled with shadows to the point that he can expand his own and use it to escape harsh situations.

Nico can solidify darkness into a lethal sword for him to use.

He can use the shadows as a portal to transport his undead army to his desired location.

This tires Nico greatly, and he often passes out after doing this act.

Nico also manipulates the darkness to create hands and claws to trip on-foot criminals.

Nico is the 18 year old son of Hadrian “Hades” di Angelo, the owner of a jewelry store and a successful funeral arrangement company. He lives with his half-sister, Hazel.

Nico’s weakness is intense, ultraviolet light. This can disorient and sap Nico’s power.

Nico’s been a hero since the age of 13.