#Percy Jackson And The Olympians

[pjotwitter]

[lilislegacy]

leo: wow, this plan is genius! you guys really thought out everything

annabeth, smiling and nudging clarisse: what can we say? the “wisest daughter of athena” and “mightiest daughter of ares” are quite the team

clarisse: damn right!

frank: uh, i know this plan requires as much secrecy as possible, but we should tell percy what’s going on. it doesn’t feel right that the 20 people in this tent are in on it and he’s in the dark

annabeth, nodding: yes, we absolutely should. can someone go find him? i really want his feedback on-

clarisse: no! no way. look, don’t take any of this personally, annabeth, but we all know percy isn’t exactly the sharpest tool in the shed. and we need only the most intelligent people on this. plus, he’s reckless and irresponsible and the idiot has no idea how to stick to a plan.

annabeth, coldly: well you’re an immature, belligerent hothead who bullies other people because of your own glaring inadequacies and raging insecurities. in fact, you pose a significant risk to the success of this plan because i can never be certain of whether you’ll be able to rein in your excessive aggression and futile attempts to win the approval of your father, who, in case you’ve forgotten, was beaten in combat by percy when percy was twelve

clarisse, jaw dropped and flushing with embarrassment:

annabeth: feel free to take any of this personally

[malvikareader]

Everyone bow down to Sally Jackson the best and parent in the world. And gods better learn something from her.

“You are Poseidon’s son.”

“I am Sally Jackson’s son!”

YEAH YOU TELL EM PERCY FUCK A DEADBEAT DAD

[forrpercyy]

season 2 wrapped today so here’s most of my SoM drawings! I can’t wait to see it on my screen

[aphroditeinthesea]

“ how could you think i’d be your friend? ”

percy jackson x fem!reader 🌊

⚠️ sexual references

a/n percy won by a landslide it’s not even funny

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

this was getting too far. so far, you were topless, he was topless, and there was some friction that should not be happening.

his lips traveled down your neck as his hands squeezed your waist tighter, making you let out a groan.

“perce,” you sighed. your fingertips lingered along his toned shoulders.

his teeth bit down a bit on your collarbone, “yeah, baby?”

baby. this is the only time he calls you that. while your clothes are on the floor and you’re offering yourself up for sacrifice.

you slightly pushed him off of you to look at his eyes. “percy,” your left hand softly caressed his temple, “i, uhm,” you sighed.

“you okay?” he softly questioned, his grip loosening and his hands tracing shapes into your back.

“i can’t,” you looked at him. his eyebrows creased in curiosity as he looked up at you. “how do you think of me?”

“oh,” he looked down for a moment before back up at you, “i think you’re beautiful,” kiss to your collarbone, “you’re hot,” chest, “sexy,” as he leaned in to press a third kiss to your tit, you grabbed his hair, pulling him back.

“besides the obvious,” you muttered, causing a grin to appear on his face, “do you like me in a way that’s…” you took a breath, “not physical?”

he smiled, “okay, yeah.” his fingers twisted in your hair, “i like how you’re strong, you’re actually one of the sweetest people i’ve ever met.”

“percy,” your gaze went to his chest.

“what’s bothering you, baby?”

your heart dropped, “that.”

“what?”

“you,” the way his chest rose and fell quicker at your questioning made you feel slightly guilty, “you call me baby when we’re naked, and it’s stupid, i’m sorry.”

“i’m so confused, y/n,” he mentioned, “do you want me to stop calling you that?”

you urgently shook your head, “no, no.”

“what is it then?”

“i can’t be your friend.”

you finally looked up. the look of betrayal on his face was indescribable. his hands left your body, leaving you cold.

you crawled off of his lap and sat in front of him.

“did i..” he looked at you, “do something?”

“percy, you were my best friend in the world,” you gestured between the two of you, “but this,” you shook your head, “i can’t do.”

“then we’ll stop,” he quickly replied. “we can stop and be friends.”

“no,” you scooched closer to him. you laid your hand on his chest, “percy,” bite the bullet, “i love you.”

his silence after your words made it worlds worse. until his hand rested on top of yours.

he interlocked his fingers with yours and brought them up to his mouth. softly, he pressed a wet kiss to your wrist.

“i love you, too.”

your lips twitched into a soft smile, “promise?”

hr pulled you closer, “promise.” he kissed you deeply, lingering his hands around your ribs, “i love you, baby.”

your smile widened. you cupped his face, “let’s never be friends again.”

he laughed, kissing your jaw, “never,” he flipped you under him, kissing your lips, “ever, baby.”

[sevsalio]

Solangelo fanart

[daughterofthemuse]

Well, Percy did find trying hard, but that was the longest he had been without his mom, his biggest support and his initial reason for trying

But yeah, definitely

@mothmanavenue you ate this one little thing

[incorrect-seafam-quotes]

Percy: Great, another sibling rivalry.

Triton: It’s not a rivalry if I’m obviously stronger, older and better looking.

Kymopoleia, glaring: Want to test that theory, little bro?

Triton: Who do you think you're calling little, baby sis?

Kymopoleia: Oh it's on, paper-boy!

Percy, backing away quickly: I’ll just... go now.

[pjotwitter]

[akm-avaetin]

You = Alabaster

Now sit back and enjoy the potential plot.

"A god wronged you so greatly that you began to target those he blessed in revenge. And strangely enough, all those he blessed happened to be kings. Years later, you became known as the 'Kingslayer'. Now, that god's blessing is no different from a curse."

[t1oui]

i hc that will doesn't tell people about his tattoo often, so most people - siblings included - don't know. ofc nico knows, and one day, nico is telling percy all about his boyfriend (and percy is listening like the good older brother/cousin/whatever figure he is) and nico mentions the tattoo and percy doesn't leave will alone until he shows him. so now three people know about it instead of two lmao

[vixnarts]

This is a panel I drew over from the Lightning Thief comic. Instead of it being Luke and Percy. It’s Percy and Jason, basically the AU I had was that Percy is this incredibly famous demigod. He was best known for defeating Kronos. Jason Grace, however, was a huge fan of Percy Jackson. He heard stories about the demigod and idolized him. When Jason, alongside his two best friends, Piper and Leo came to Camp Halfblood. Jason was absolutely thrilled that Chiron was going to have him be trained by Percy. But… they’ll have to find out who Jason’s godly parent is.

I do have an highlight on my Instagram page, however I don’t know if what I said was correct. But I do like this idea more than the original one I made up. So I guess I’ll stick with this one?

[OLDISH ART]: August 30, 2024

[emziess]

Percy & Annabeth Percy Jackson and the Olympians - S01E08

[charlietheepicwriter7]

@anotheroceanid Part 2!

Lightning branched across the sky, lighting up the overstuffed room with brilliant white. Thunder boomed moments later. Odysseus flinched back, his claws retracting and his body shrinking as his monstrousness was sucked back into him. He felt naked. Raw. 

Human. 

The woman continued to sleep. The light had given him a better look of her, and she was clearly exhausted. Recovering from a rough birth, as every mother of godly children suffered from, and dark bruises under her eyes… She wasn’t sleeping enough. She wouldn’t wake. 

Her daughter did. 

In her crib, the babe stirred. Letting out a quiet whimper, she raised one curled fist to her eyes, as though she was blocking the light. She grew restless as the storm outside worsened, hail banging against the fire escape. Her eyes fluttered open, wide and soft green. 

Odysseus turned away, his stomach turning. 

He’d expected Poseidon’s eyes. His children always had his eyes; it was the defining characteristic of children of the Sea God, even more than their tan skin or their dark hair. Glowing, piercing green eyes that made it easy to despise them, easy to gut them or behead them or–

His wife had green eyes. Dark, like the leaves of their marriage bed, with beautiful golden flecks that their son inherited. She was divine, he thought mournfully, his heart breaking again.

This child did not have her father’s eyes, nor his wife’s. Her eyes were as light as an olive and stared at him, even though he knew an  infant’s eyes could not see that far. 

Infants typically were born with blue eyes, he remembered. 

Odysseus loomed over the crib as he once was, the only evidence of his fate being his red eyes. He stood as just a man over the babe, his soul laid bare. 

She squirmed against her swaddle, legs kicking underneath the blanket. Whining unhappily, she broke free from its constraints, one arm flopping wildly, almost hitting herself. He caught her hand without thinking, her little palm curling around his thumb. 

A soft, gummy smile spread across her tiny face, her bright eyes crinkling with joy as if she recognized him—welcomed him. She let out a tiny gurgle and released his thumb, reaching up to his face. 

Odysseus froze. 

The last baby he held, he killed. 

He never even held his grandchildren, or their children, waiting until they were old enough to run, to scream, to fight back before he even dared touch them. Too cautious. Too tempting. He didn’t even like seeing the babies, not until they were older.

Lightning illuminated the room again, and thunder followed, rattling the windows. Tears immediately welled up in her eyes and, without thinking, Odysseus picked her up and held her against his chest. His arms naturally cradled her, supporting her neck in a gesture he’d learned centuries ago. He hushed her softly, comforting her as best he could while keeping an eye on the mother. Mothers were the most dangerous creatures in every species. 

The comfort continued for many minutes, Odysseus speaking at a low volume to keep her calm against the instinctual fear of thunder. Her free arm latched onto his beard, digging her fingers into the coarse hair and pulling. Odysseus winced, but didn’t stop her. Small as she was, she couldn’t hurt him. 

But he could hurt her. He was there to hurt her. 

A great many things in this world would hurt her. 

Odysseus frowned. The Lord of the Sky would soon discover Poseidon's oath breaking, and so would the Lord of the Dead. Both would be furious when they discovered little Penelope; he got the distinct impression that neither king was particularly happy to stop having children, despite the Gods’ general disinterest in their young. And as she aged, her scent would grow stronger and attract monster after monster after monster after—

He took a deep breath. His hands tightened slightly around the infant, as if bracing himself against the weight of the realization crashing down on him. His purpose—vengeance, justice, the satisfaction of seeing Poseidon suffer as he had suffered—was literally in his hands. And yet, standing in the dim glow of streetlights refracting in the rain, holding this tiny, helpless creature against his chest, all he could think of was how fragile she was.

He exhaled slowly, pressing his lips into a thin line.

If he left now, pretended he never saw the child, she’d live. For a while. But eventually, the monsters would come for her. She would be devoured before she learned how to run. Even if she somehow survived, even if she grew up strong, she would be dragged into the games of the gods, made a pawn in the endless war between Olympians. 

Odysseus had such a fate, once. He’d escaped by the skin of his teeth and ichor on his hands, but he escaped. 

It was better for her to die, a part of him whispered. The ghosts of his past murmured in his head, warning him, cursing him, reminding him of all that he had lost, all that he had destroyed.

But the girl in his arms did not yet know of loss. She knew only warmth. Only comfort. Her little fingers tangled in his beard, and when he shifted her slightly, she let out a sleepy sigh, nestling against him as though he were something safe. Something familiar.

Odysseus closed his eyes.

He was not a hero. He was not a good man. He had no illusions about what he was—what he had become. But for the first time in centuries, he had a choice.

He could leave her. Let fate claim her. Let the gods have their way.

Or he could take her.

How many times had he wondered what would have happened, if he didn’t drop Hector’s infant from that Trojan wall? Hundreds of times? Thousands? 

“Penelope.”

The name ached in his chest. He looked down at her one last time before making his decision.

With practiced ease, he adjusted his grip, holding her securely against him. He moved silently, his steps soundless as he turned away from the crib, from the exhausted mother who would wake in the morning to an empty cradle. Odysseus did not look back.

The storm raged on as he slipped out the window, the shadows swallowing him whole.

[forrpercyy]

“she was starting to be seriously beautiful”