#PJO

[sevsalio]

Gimme more solangelo pweasee

[percyjacksonblackoutpoetry]

"percy"

If life is a never ending loop of dirty dishes and laundry then that means life is a never ending loop of home cooked meals and comfy clean clothes

[forrpercyy]

i miss them

[cometjuice]

solangelo (vers)

the thought of it being one way is funny then you switch it and it’s even more funny.

[arisketchart]

TOApril Day 17 🦋

@toapril-official

[percabethconvos]

Percy and Annabeth whenever they're separated:

[xoxochb]

——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

if percy asked you to describe him in one word he would assume you to say ‘incredibly sexy.’ you, on the other hand, would not be as kind as to say that. though he is, you would much rather use the term ‘always up to something mischievous unless he’s sleeping.’

this hour, he was up to something.

he’s generous, however, not to dump the whole packet into his mouth— that’d be too much for even percy to handle. instead, duping at the very least half of it before poking at your shoulder.

you avert your gaze from your book to your fiancé. he wears no readable expression so you assume he’s only bored. like a puppy. or a toddler.

naturally, you give him what he wants so you’re swiftly able to return to your fantasy world.

you create a makeshift bookmark by putting your hand between the pages as you reach downwards and press an open-mouthed, near devouring kiss to his lips. unfortunately, they were not the only thing you devoured.

you rip apart from percy with a yelp. “what the fuck is wrong with you?”

he laughs and begins to swallow each blue pop rock in his mouth. your poor tongue had grazed those gods awful candies.

“blue raspberry flavored. aren’t they good, sweet girl?”

“no! they’re not— stop! it feels weird when you do that.” with a glare, your eyes return to your book.

“it’s not weird, it’s magical. do you feel like you’re kissing a god?”

you huff. “I would have without them.”

gods, don’t you know it.

“noted! thanks for your feedback, sweet girl.”

“fuck you.”

“or you can do it yourself.” percy’s arm opposite encircles your waist as he rolls over onto his tummy.

“did you swallow all of your pop rocks?”

“not technically.” he reaches over for a second and grabs the rest of the package. he dumps the remainder in his mouth before letting them crackle.

you can hear it now if you listen close enough. percy smiles like a kid on christmas with the sensation. “love these things.”

in secret you’d already cleared out two years worth of them for his birthday in august. you had to hide them in your own cabin, though, so he wouldn’t find them.

“I know.”

you close your book with a sigh, letting it rest on your bedside table. you turn on your side to face a very happy percy.

you give him a knowing look and he swallows the rest of the pop rocks, grin remaining. “kiss?”

you pretend contemplate it for a moment before shrugging in a why not??? movement before leaning in again, this time kissing him minus the candies.

and he were very right about the god part.

[dreamdragonkadia]

Can I please have a Percy Jackson x soulmate reader who is also a child of Hera fic, specifically where they have each other's name on their wrist. Only if you're up to it, no pressure.

I’m full-on rolling with the adopted child of Hera route for this because of that post I made a hot minute ago (iykyk). This was such a fun piece to write, so thank you for requesting it! p.jackson x hera!reader

When the name first bloomed across your wrist in curling, ink-dark script, it hadn’t been you who noticed it.

It had been your mother.

One moment you were sitting at the marble dining table in her private quarters on Olympus, struggling to write an essay on the Greek pantheon for your mortal school (ironic), and the next, Hera had audibly gasped.

A real, actual gasp.

You’d looked up, blinking, only to find the Queen of the Gods frozen in place, her eyes locked on your left wrist. Then she was moving, uncharacteristically overly gentle, taking your hand like it was something sacred.

There, nestled in the soft skin just above your pulse point, was a name.

Perseus Jackson.

Her expression was unreadable for a moment, the goddess of marriage and family turning the wrist like it was a prophecy, her thumb brushing over the name as if to test its permanence.

Then she narrowed her eyes.

“If he hurts you,” she murmured, a glint of something ancient flashing behind her irises, “I’ll hand-deliver his soul to my brother’s realm.”

 It wasn’t exactly the most reassuring threat of maternal love, but you appreciated the sentiment. Mostly.

And for a while, that name was all you had. Just a reminder inked into your skin, a small tether to someone you’d never met. You hadn’t even considered the possibility that you might run into him—this Perseus Jackson—at Camp Half-Blood.

Until Silena Beauregard clocked your wrist.

You’d only just arrived at camp for the summer, backpack slung over one shoulder, when she swept you into a circle of flower crowns and idle gossip under the shade of the strawberry fields.

“I forgot,” Silena said with a little smile, reaching out to fix one of the daisies in your crown. “You haven’t been around long enough to meet Cabin Three’s one and only.”

You blinked. “Poseidon’s kid?”

“Mhmm.”

You tilted your head, adjusting the crown she placed on you. “Mom’s complained about him a few times… what was his name? Perce? Perrie?”

Silena actually giggled. “It’s Percy. And he’s kind of impossible to forget once you meet him.”

You shrugged. “I’m sure he’s fine. Probably has a sea salt ego and some tragic backstory. Don’t they all?”

That had been that for most of the day.

Between trying to nap in spots no one would bother you—your top pick was currently the roof of the Big House—and settling into Cabin Two, you managed to mostly avoid conversation. Hera’s cabin was more or less a shrine to symmetry and order, with marble floors so polished you could see your reflection in them. It was always sealed up tight unless you were there to unlock it with your presence alone. A little dramatic, but hey. Apples don’t fall far from immortal trees.

What you didn’t expect was to look up from organizing your few bags and see a shadow fall across the open door.

A boy was peeking inside, standing on the front step like he wasn’t sure if knocking would offend someone—or if the building itself might strike him down for the attempt.

Honestly, you didn’t blame him. Most campers had only ever seen Hera’s cabin from the outside—closed doors, golden torchlight flickering behind frosted windows, impossible to enter unless Hera deemed it so. And now? The doors were open, and you were there.

He looked… hesitant.

Dark hair a little damp like he’d just come from the lake, an orange Camp Half-Blood tee clinging to him, and sea-green eyes that immediately locked onto yours the second you moved.

You stared right back, unimpressed.

“Lost?” you asked, not moving from where you sat, legs crossed on your bed, unwrapping a granola bar you hadn’t even wanted until now.

He blinked, then stepped back a little. “No. I mean—no. I was just, uh… curious.”

Your brows rose.

“I’ve never seen this place open before,” he added quickly. “Didn’t mean to, like, spy. Or intrude. Sorry.”

You took a bite of your granola bar and chewed, slowly, not breaking eye contact. “You always peek into cabins you’ve never been invited into? Or is this just a special treat for the day?”

His lips twitched. “You always this hostile, or is it just your charming way of saying hello?”

You finally moved to stand, brushing off your hands. “Depends. You always interrupt people mid-snack?”

His grin broke through then—lopsided, boyish, annoyingly cute. “Only the important ones.”

You waved the boy in. “Take a look around, I highly doubt you ever will again, son of Poseidon.”

He blinked, visibly startled. “How’d you—”

“Please. You think I don’t know what my mom complains about?” You gave a light shrug and tilted your head, studying him like he was a curious painting. “You and your dad share the same eyes.”

Then you added, almost as an afterthought, “Yours are prettier, though.”

That stopped him cold. His mouth opened a little—like he was ready to fire back a flirt or a quip—but the words didn’t quite land. Instead, his gaze flicked downward.

To your wrist.

Your sleeve had ridden up just slightly when you’d waved him in. Just enough to see it—faint against your skin, the edges delicate and familiar.

He froze.

“You—” he started, but it came out rough, like his throat had dried mid-word.

You paused, eyes narrowing slightly. “What?”

He shook his head like he was trying to reboot. “It’s nothing. I just—” His words trailed again, and he swallowed. “Can I ask you something kind of… stupid?”

You crossed your arms, instinctively defensive. “You really are making it difficult not to insult you with a question like that.”

He huffed a soft laugh, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He was still staring—less at you now and more through you, like something in the air had shifted and he was the only one who could hear the change.

Then, without another word, he turned his arm over and tugged his wristband down.

There it was.

Your name.

Etched across his skin like it had always been there. Like the universe had quietly stitched it into his fate and only now pulled back the curtain to show it off.

You didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Your eyes dropped to the name inked on his wrist, and then—slowly, too slowly—you looked down at your own.

Your heart gave one single, staggering beat.

Perseus Jackson.

The name that had been on your skin for years, barely noticed, barely thought about. Something that had always felt like background noise—until now, when it matched his voice. His face. His everything.

Everything in your chest stilled.

“...Oh,” you whispered. It wasn’t eloquent. Wasn’t poised or godly. Just a breath of realization. A shockwave in syllable form.

Percy was watching you like you might bolt. Like you were a frightened deer, and he wasn’t sure whether to reach out or stay frozen.

“I—I didn’t mean to freak you out,” he said quickly, voice cracking just slightly. “I didn’t even know if it was you until just now. I mean, I hoped, but I didn’t— I wasn’t gonna say anything unless you—”

You raised a hand, and he shut up instantly.

Not because you were angry.

But because you looked stunned.

Shellshocked. Like the floor had dropped out from beneath you and you were still trying to figure out which way was up.

“You’re serious,” you said quietly, your gaze locked on the mark on his wrist. “It’s not some weird Camp prank or cosmic joke?”

Percy snorted, a little breathless. “I wouldn’t exactly joke about this to the daughter of Hera. I like living.”

You didn’t say anything for a second. The name on your wrist suddenly felt heavier than it ever had—less like a mark, more like a tether. A bond.

Fated.

“Did you… always know?” you asked, voice small despite yourself.

He shook his head. “Nah. Mine showed up when I was twelve. Thought it was some mistake. Or a curse. Then I met your mom.”

You flinched.

“She didn’t say it was you, just… glared at me. Said I’d figure it out. Someday.” He looked down at his wrist again, his fingers brushing your name. “Guess this is someday.”

You exhaled through your nose. “Gods, she’s going to love this.”

“Yeah,” he said, with all the dread of a man facing imminent doom. “Can’t wait for that meet-the-mother moment.”

And for the first time since everything had started spinning, you let out a soft, startled laugh.

Because, of course.

This was your soulmate.

Your mother’s least favorite demigod.

Figures.

[percyjacksonblackoutpoetry]

"percy percy perc"

Reblog to give a trans person a fresh and perfectly ripe mango wait huh

It's the wikipedia image??? How big could it be

What

Huh???

[mel-child-of]

{open starter} I'm not one

*You haven't seen Mel for about a month since everything did happen. As you walk around you saw multiple vans and as you read the text "demon hunters" mad you decided fuck it why not see what's happening. As you do, you saw a small cottage and then Mel was being dragged out as she was trying to explain that she's not one. You also noticed that she was wearing a tank top and a jacket her hair was longer, and you noticed some old scars.*

What do you do?

(tags @acezinspace @emdabitchass @urbestestwindgod @cloak-of-ares @least-favorite-hades-kid @penelope-is-waiting @odysseus-of-ithaca-is-lost @aura-of-the-winds @lucifermorningstar-official @the-speedster-god @lethia-not-athena @the-god-ofwar @seleneandheliosog @mother-of-trust @princess-of-jade @notesbyaphrodite @justice-bringer @god-of-smithing-and-cozy-vibes @amber-the-unknown @apollo-ask-blog @least-favorite-ares-kid @that-roman-arsonist @thomasofithaka @the-great-emperor-commodus @defect-child-of-eros @sunny-child-of-apollo @/anyone )

(my master list)

(tell me if you want to be added or remove)

[mediumgayitalian]

Nico hates three-legged races on principle. One, because they force him to pronounce the extra syllable in legged, which makes him think of William Shakespeare -- Billy, as he insists Nico calls him. Ugh. Two, because they are stupid. And three, bonus, because they are stupid enough to merit saying that twice.

It's inefficient, is what it is.

"It's fun," Will coaxes. He winks, or tries to. He really just blinks both eyes and Nico melts but for propriety's sake, and because it is ridiculous also, he pretends he doesn't. "Plus, it's not so bad if it's me you're tied to, huh?"

Nico glares at him for a moment. He is grinning, now, wide and cheeky, ignoring the genuine Distance between his hips and Nico's and the general calamity that is sure to cause. They are not only about run a three-legged race, but they are going to lose. Which is worse.

(Practice, Chiron insists. You never know what the real world will be like.)

(Bah.)

But as he opens his mouth to snark something along the lines of I don't actually need you to qualify, I just need your leg, so don't piss me off, he comes to a realization that snaps his jaw right closed.

Tied to, Will had said.

A grin of his own spreads over Nico's face. He hides it quickly.

"On your marks, racers!" calls Chiron, stamping his hoof. All fifteen teams of the meet hobble over to the starting line, pushing and shoving. Will and Nico make their ridiculous, sauntering way.

"Actually," Nico muses, as they shift into position. "If I'm gonna have you tied up..."

"Get set!"

He moves just enough to brush his shoulder along Will's bicep, tilting his chin up to stare right in Will's round, pretty face, tilted in confusion.

Nico lets his mouth curve into something wide and wolfish.

"I'd rather it be somewhere a little more private."

"Go!"

The rest of the teams tear off. The advantage they have is staggering -- Chiron had offered, safe distance away, if Nico would prefer competing in a weight class perhaps closer to his own, and Nico had snapped his disgust so loudly campers jumped several paces away. It had, possibly, been a tad arrogant, and if Will had not sighed in exasperated fondness Nico may have swallowed back his pride and accepted the offer.

...Well, maybe.

But it is his own fault, regardless, their predicament. In no way and on no planet would they have in any way won, by any margin. They are simply no match for Ellis and Malcolm, when the freakishly reedy rivals manage to set their differences aside.

But the total dead weight on Will's end is a surprise.

The flush, he had expected. Nico relished in the anticipation of the redness high on Will's cheeks, the heat pouring off of him, the curl of his shoulders up by his ears and the high bend of his cracking voice.

What he was not expecting was for each of Will's freckles to go supernova.

In a sudden, cracking flash, like sunlight bursting through stormclouds in tiny little pinpricks, every little dot on Will's body -- of which there are many -- shine a beam of pure, hot, white line in every direction, enveloping him like a nuclear waste facility lit aflame. Between every white-bright light is bright red heat, like lithium flame, so hot the air around them kind of warps. Were it not for Nico's tough jeans and long-sleeved shirt, he may have fried off his skin. As it is, he feels sunburn.

"What did you do to him," asks Lou Ellen, aghast. She and Cecil have not only paused but have doubled back, hobbling over to gawk.

Nico grimaces. It is probably a bad sign if two of Will's closest friends have not seen him react in this way. A quick glance around confirms that all racers are gawking; spectators, too, stopping where they stand to stare at the sheer light pouring off of Will until it burns so brightly they have to look away.

"Hey," Nico whispers, poking his friend in the ribs. He regrets it immediately, sticking the smarting burn on his fingertip into his mouth. "Are you -- Will? Are you still...present?"

His soul is, at least. Mostly. His facial features however have become entirely obscured by a glowing red so bright it is white, like the sun behind closed eyelids.

Oops.

Nico spares another look at the racegrounds. Still people watch, mouths open -- gaping or whispering to one another, curious. Several appear to be scribbling notes onto paper. Kayla appears to be taking diagnostic photographs. (Or, at least, Nico gives her the benefit of the doubt.)

The race track is wide open.

"I promise I didn't actually try to turn your brain off for this," Nico says. He carefully does not promise never to do it again, in case Will is present behind the glow and holds him to it. "But I am going to use this to our advantage."

Nico pulls his sleeves over his hands and grabs both of Will's, tugging them to the finish line. Nobody stops them.

"Notice how I said 'our'. See, we're a team."

Quickly they cross the finish line. Nico stands for a moment at the end and ponders his situation, wondering if he should let Will calm down and perhaps stop while he is ahead.

But as Will's light fades, the bright red flush high on both his cheeks becomes clear and cherry-toned, and the red does ever so bring out the absolute mortified agony in his eyes mixed with slow-blinking confusion, like the last time he forgot to eat for five days and passed out directly on top of a rock, giving himself a grade 3 concussion.

"What -- happened."

And, well.

Nobody really got hurt.

"Nothing," Nico assures quickly. He pats Will's still-red cheek, smirking. "Yet."

[leelight]

One of Lester's greatest challenges

[percyjacksonblackoutpoetry]

"percy percy percy"

not a dream

My mom was at the store and after paying, the cashier asked her whether she'd like to receive a gift toy for her child if she had one (you get them after spending a certain amount of money as a present for your purchase) and she said he'd looked so doubtful that she had a young kid that she replied yes to his question and took the toy of 'some blue critter driving a blue car' for me, her 31 year old adult daughter and only child.

SONIC

SHE GAVE ME SONIC THE HEDGEHOG TOY THAT SHE GOT FOR FREE JUST BECAUSE SOME YOUNG CASHIER LOOKED LIKE HE DIDN'T THINK SHE COULD HAVE A YOUNG CHILD AT HOME BECAUSE SHE'S CLEARLY IN HER 50S.

BECAUSE SHE DOESN'T HAVE A YOUNG CHILD.

SHE HAS ME.

AND I HAVE A SONIC TOY NOW.

hehe

[luvingsolace]

His job is just… kissing boyfriend

[kurzler]

a quick psa to anyone recently getting into greek mythology and is a victim of tumblr and/or tiktok misconceptions:

-there is no shame in being introduced to mytholgy from something like percy jackson, epic the musical or anything like that, but keep in mind that actual myths are going to be VERY different from modern retellings

-the myth of medusa you probably know (her being a victim of poseidon and being cursed by athena) isn't 100% accurate to GREEK mythology (look up ovid)

-there is no version of persephone's abduction in which persephone willingly stays with hades, that's a tumblr invention (look up homeric hymn to demeter)

-as much as i would like it, no, cerberus' name does not mean "spot" (probably a misunderstanding from this wikipedia article)

-zeus isn't the only god who does terrible things to women, your fav male god probably has done the same

-on that note, your fav greek hero has probably done some heinous shit as well

-gods are more complicated than simply being "god of [insert thing]", many titles overlap between gods and some may even change depending on where they were worshipped

-also, apollo and artemis being the gods of the sun and the moon isn't 100% accurate, their main aspects as deities originally were music and the hunt

-titans and gods aren't two wholly different concepts, titan is just the word used to decribe the generation of gods before the olympians

-hector isn't the villain some people make him out to be

-hephaestus WAS married to aphrodite. they divorced. yes, divorce was a thing in ancient greece. hephaestus' wife is aglaia

-ancient greek society didn't have the same concepts of sexuality that we have now, it's incorrect to describe virgin goddesses like artemis and athena as lesbians, BUT it's also not wholly accurate to describe them as aromantic/asexual, it's more complex than that

-you can never fully understand certain myths if you don't understand the societal context in which they were told

-myths have lots and lots of retellings, there isn't one singular "canon", but we can try to distinguish between older and newer versions and bewteen greek and roman versions

-most of what you know about sparta is probably incorrect

-reading/waching retellings is not a substitute to reading the original myths, read the iliad! read the odyssey! i know they may seem intimidating, but they're much more entertaining than you may think

greek mythology is so complex and interesting, don't go into it with preconcieved notions! try to be open to learn!