#PBP. ONLY THE YOUNG / percy jackson

[arachnidiots]

⎯⎯⎯⎯ a starter for @hubrisheld

his room? he calls it a creative mess-- something of a result of all his passions for his hobby and little passion for cleaning and tidiness. he shoves aside a box of spare parts under his desk, clothes against the wall and tries to give it some order as annabeth stands watching. it's a quick, haphazard attempt and withe very thing he finds that might need a new home that isn't the floor he gives a long "uhhhh" in thought. his room is much less orderly than he thought it to be, but the presence of another certainly makes him much more aware of the surroundings. "sorry, i swear it's not usually like this." it is, but this isn't even what he wants to get to. bouncing from one foot to another around the small space, he jumps up onto the first rung of the bunk bed ladder, yanking close the bins he has stacked on the unused top bed. it's missing sheets-- clearly a place more for storage than it is for sleeping. the bottom bunk is the one that shows all signs of actual use with red graphed bedsheets, two or maybe three blankets, and some posters along the back wall. small twinkle lights adorn the edges going around. it looks not unlike the bunk that peter occupies back at camp-- just one of two in use and with touches of home and his love for film. throwing one plastic bin off to the side, then another, he turns, still hanging on the ladder. arm free, he gestures towards the top bunk. "THIS... is all yours! or, y'know, the bottom if you want that one instead. we can rearrange some stuff." he hops down from the ladder, standing awkwardly by the bunk and looking towards her. "whichever, or or- neither! if you don't want to stay! no pressure. i mean may already loves you and i figured it might be nice to have some place else, if you wanted to be... in the city."

[arachnidiots-a]

good morning! in his pjo verse, peter’s signature weapon that he’s known for is a glowing lasso (to resemble webs!) and it disguised itself as a little white yoyo (although he does also have a yoyo and he had to label them). the lasso was given to him as his gift from athena. this comes after his spider bite and the curse tied to it so it’s mostly seen as a reluctant acceptance of him. he’s also pretty great with a sword but he certainly doesn’t prefer it

[arachnidiots]

“oh good, you’re laughing. you can laugh.” the column was the only thing keeping peter up, but he sinks against it, until he’s eventually all down to the floor, laying flat and entirely drenched. he’s breathing hard. he’s confused what in the hell she’s going on about, but he thinks it’s less about her and much more about him and the way that monster threw him back and forth for a good couple of seconds earlier. “oh you have…” he closes his eyes for a moment, “no idea!” he holds up his hand, one finger pointed out as he takes a second to himself, recollecting. the near drowning came as a real surprise, on top of everything else. “i’m good, thanks for asking by the way, just need a minute. you, uh, you from around here?”

❝ feel like i should laugh but i’m just too godsdamned tired. ❞ ― @arachnidiots, from peter.

 ‍  ‍ marlais leans back against a marble column, chest heaving, shoulder to shoulder with the boy she just witnessed strangle a grecian monster to death with . . . a lasso, she thinks? a little atypical, maybe, but clearly it did more good than her accidental -- albeit brief! -- drowning of the museum floor. the power still pulses under her skin, straining like the tide. she doesn't tap into it often enough.

 ‍  ‍ contrary to the other, she does laugh; an initial splutter of shock that bubbles into a fit of breathless giggles, doubling over her knees as ribs contract from exertion and shaky palms rake over her countenance, searching for something grounding in the familiar plains. at least she's still in one piece. ❝ they really weren't lying, were they? ❞ they is broad, pertaining to anyone on her side of the pantheon. not that this poor guy could know; they haven't even traded names, they were just the only ones to see the beast through the rift between mortal and godly realms. she tilts her head to look up at him, expression twisted in this weird battle between excitement and pure anxiety. ❝ greeks are monster magnets. ❞ so much for her field trip.

[arachnidiots-a]

tag drop

[arachnidiots]

general + peter tag drop

[arachnidiots-a]

tag redo

[arachnidiots]

he throws her a quick look when she asks about caring. it’s a look meant to call her out her on absolute bullshit— his eyes dig deep at her, brows furrowed. “what?” he moves past it pretty quick— annabeth and him can throw so many looks around, they don’t need a conversation for her to know exactly what he’s talking about. peter’s room is a little more full than his bunk at camp and although they’re pretty similar in actual aesthetic. this is home, this is where he feels most comfortable, and the farthest from being judged. he knows his half-siblings can’t always help it, it’s the fear of him, but sometimes having a room nearby is more than just a convenience. annabeth has come the furthest, this offer is proof of that. “i’m sure— she’s kinda the one who suggested it, and you don’t have to keeping calling her miss may.” may’s told annabeth it before, at least peter has to think that she has. all of the friends he’s had come over have been given the oh that’s too formal line. “i mean i’d.. i’d try to keep it cleaner, but it’d be fun, and you could i don’t know… go to school here or whatever you want!”

annabeth stands with her arms crossed in the doorway of peter's room, head tilted almost curiously as she watches him. she's totally not judging (yes she is), but she figures she should have known what to expect -- after all, she's seen his bunk in the cabin. his haphazard cleaning has her fighting a laugh, though, and her lips press together to keep the giggle bubbling up down. it doesn't work -- her shoulders shake and she shakes her head, " peter, you're fine. why would i care?" well, there's probably a reason for that. she scolded all of her siblings when they didn't clean their rooms bunks, so it's not like he has a track record for being nice. still, she makes her way through his room, enamored with the various -- things. she doesn't have much, even since she's gone back home, and her rooms never look lived in. peter's does, as if he likes being here. it's nice. another smile when he gestures to the bunk, but this one is more of an involuntary grin. he wants her to stay? "you're sure? you and miss may?" may had told her to call her by just her name, but that feels weird. she's an adult, "i mean..." a pause, trying to hold back the slight excitement in her voice, "i guess it's closer to camp...and i could help you clean." it's her way of saying 'please, if you're really sure'.