#anaklusmos

[demigods-posts]

what's the logistics behind riptide reappearing in percy's pocket? does it dissipate like wet paper and reform in his pocket? what's the average window of time before it starts to return? has percy ever watched riptide disappear from across the room and reappear in his pocket? how is this shit happening? i wanna know.

[fluffyou777]

I thought this app would appreciate my riptide tattoo more than my insta friends would 😭🫶💕💕

[valewritessss]

So what happens when Percy’s pants don’t currently have pockets? No sword? Or does he clip it to his shirt like??

[helyeahmangocheese]

I had a dream last night that jack the sword roped riptide and the other weapons onto tumblr dot com just to talk shit about their demigods' fighting technique? and idk who invited backbiter but everyone was just bitching at him for existing

[persassy777]

Here are some Percy Jackson doodles/tattoo ideas I made for you guys :D

I hope you like them, and don't hesitate to ask if you don't understand the reference!

My personal fave is Seaweed Brain :)

[helpmeimblorboing]

First draft of the first chapter of Tearing Tides, a post-Trojan-War story following Andromache after the death of Helenus, being granted immortality and living through all the many epochs of humanity :

He was dead. His blood slid against the stone floors like thick, oily tar, dark and glimmering in the dim light of the room

The man who had married her was dead

The man who had taken his brother’s wife as though she were a prize, to be owned and inherited, was dead.

The Prophet of Troy was dead, throat split open with a knife in the dead of night, his oracular voice slipping out with the gushes of his crimson-black blood, never to be sounded again

Andromache stumbled back, half out of shock and half with the dizzying rush of absolute TRIUMPH. The bloodied knife slipped from her trembling fingers, a spill of ruined starlight against the dim light cast by the sputtering candle she held in her other hand

A loud clatter sounded out as it hit the ground blade-first, its sharp edge cutting a faint groove in the red-spattered gray of the stone

Helenus didn’t stir. His lips were parted, as though to speak, to wheedle and deceive like he had done so many times before. To Briseis. To her. To all the wives of the sons of Troy.

But no trace of whiny, nasal voice emerged. The prophet was gone, and all at once, a great weight seemed to lift off Andromache’s shoulders, so stunning in its relief that she nearly fell to her knees

But she was a warrior queen of Troy, no matter how much her pride may have been broken in the beds and throne rooms of these Achaeans. And a warrior queen she would remain. Right up to the end

Reaching down, she wrapped her fingers tentatively about the blood-slick knife hilt, lifting it up to stare into its sullied blade, blood dripping off it and rejoining the growing puddle of scarlet below with steady drip-drips that seemed loud as thunderclaps in the stillness of night

Hector, my love, I’m coming

She lifted it high, and prepared to drive it deep into her breast. The knife rose and fell, a glimmering streak of silver, and Andromache braced herself for the sharp stab of pain that was sure to come next

It never came. The broken splinters of the blade clattered against the earth. She stared at the empty, leather-bound hilt of what had once been a knife

Before she could pray, or protest, or do ANYTHING other than stare dumbly as her only hope of salvation was torn away from her, a surge of golden light filled the room. The twang of a bowstring being plucked. The sweet sound of a lyre.

Brilliant, burning eyes in the night. Immaculate lips moving with vindictive hate. A curse being cast from on high

Helenus was a prophet of Apollo. And Apollo, the god who had wrestled his own mortal half-brother to a standstill for insulting one of his seers, had always been protective of his priests

All at once, a sweet voice seems to sound through the room, music personified, with no source and no end, and yet, gratingly, shrilly, unnatural. Too perfect. Too unreal.

There will be no salvation for thee, murderess of my prophet. If death is what thee desire the most, then death will be what I take from thee, now and forever

The myth of Psyche. Mortal made god. The myth of Hyacinthus, and Narcissus, and Heracles. And now, the myth of Andromache - the mortal to whom eternity had come as a curse

She does not know what she did next. She only knows the mouthfeel of the curses spilling from her lips like the last breaths of the man lying beside her, the thudding force her knees impacting the stone floor, her chiton quickly growing wet and dark with her husband’s blood

She remembers the feel of godly magic within her, the way her nails seemed to refuse to find purchase in her flesh, no matter how hard, how desperately, she scratched at her skin.

How ironic, that she be inflicted with the blessing of the very man who had taken everything from her. Akhilleus’ ghost liked its twisted jokes, it seemed

She had heard that he, too, had mourned someone he loved, once. That his life being taken from him had been why he had taken her life from her

But he had died. He had had that, at least, if nothing else. Andromache didn’t even have that. The gods truly hated their Trojan children, it seemed

She stared down at the floor, at the scarlet threads of blood webbing through the cracks and crevices of the stone like the branches of some vast tree, ever-extending, ever-flowering

She had known a tree, once. It had grown in her garden, back in Troy. Her love had planted it for her, with her own two hands.

Ithacan Ulixes, he had told her, had made his wife a bed out of an olive tree. But not even he had GROWN her one.

So he had planted a laurel tree for her, intending to turn it into a bed when it grew old enough. Her love had always been the competitive kind

He had never gotten the chance. He had died before he could. And then, the tree burned. It seemed almost comedic that Ulixes be the one who had caused the fire that consumed it, like one of those Achaean tragedies her father used to tell her about on his knee

Her father, who had fallen when Akhilleus took Cilicia. Along with all her older brothers. That Achaean bastard had truly robbed her of everything, hadn’t he ?

And yet, it wasn’t his fault, either, was it ? Not even Agamemnon’s, if she really allowed herself to admit it. Eyes unclouded by her vengefulness and anger, she could admit that, if anything, the gods had been the ones to twist all of their fates into tangled, frayed threads, and that the blame for it could not, indeed, be laid at the feet of any one mortal

Andromache was not feeling particularly inclined to look past her vengefulness and hate right now, so she simply went back to hating Akhilleus. It seemed safer than hating the gods

Her mind whirred, cold and clinical, refusing to process the gravity of her fate. Andromache had always been a clever one - not just for a women, either, Hector had told her once, just clever. Cleverer than me, even - and all that cleverness was put to work now

Idly, she wondered if trying to climb Mount Olympus and attack Apollo would rid her of the curse, the better to smite her, or if she would just be, like Prometheus, sentenced to an eternity of torment

(Just to be noted - in this book, Andromache is a trans man. The reason I refer to him as she/her here is because he only really DISCOVERS that some time around the 1900s, though he does develop a curiosity about certain aspects of gender androgyny when he visits the Viking lands and learns of their gods)

[anidiotonloose]

Meanwhile Riptide : *offended noises*

[recluse-moth]

Why are there no good reference photos of riptide in the show???? I’m struggling over here!

[transcodedtit]

Day 2/? of me posting my old art from the sketchbook that has been in a drawer for like a year and a half and hopefully by the end I'll have a new piece ready

Percy Jackson is the best children's book series

[royallygray]

I've just had a thought. Y'know how Riptide will always return to Percy's pocket, right?

Do you also know how women's clothes just are depressingly lacking in pockets?

Like what if Percy wanted to wear leggings. That don't have pockets. where would Riptide appear? In his ear and he can just pull it out like a magician? Would it be in the leggings and fall through his pants and then it would just keep teleporting back?

Just floating next to him? In his shoe? In thin air? Behind his ear?

Would it magically create a pocket that works in the leggings? WHERE WOULD IT GO

I'm actually breaking down over this WHERE WOULD HIS PEN GO THIS IS AN ACTUAL QUESTION IM GOING INSANE

[alonedustspeck]

Alright I haven't posted my art on here (or anywhere honestly) in a while but I have fan art and I want to share it lmao. This is fanart for The Files series by denimbeans on AO3 if you haven't read it go check it out its very fun highly recommend.

I didn’t color this and I also shaded it in a way I’ve not shaded before so forgive me if it looks wonky lol.  I might color it later but I go back to school tomorrow so if I do it'll be a while. Tap/click on the picture for better quality :)

[mayakrish08]

Backbiter

Can we take a moment to appreciate the fitting name of the sword Backbiter with regard to its owner? I am reminded of, “The Wand Chooses The Wizard” except with a PJO touch, so it’s like, “The Sword Chooses The Wielder.” I am a Riptide gurl though and though because hey it is practically impossible to misplace it, and let’s not forget how handy of a pen in was in House of Hades! But in another world, I would totally consider Backbiter because THAT SWORD CAN OPEN FRIGGING PORTALS! Not to mention that it can hurt both mortals AND monsters so can you really argue with how it’s not useful in taking just a slight nick at that annoying jerk we have in every classroom? The advantage is that said jerk cannot even see that it’s a sword, and if he cries out loud he would be deemed as the daisy with the petal princess skin so it’s a total win-win to us! I am telling you, ideally, what we need is a Riptide with Backbiter’s add-ons. Because, there is no other way but to go all out when it comes ice creams toppings and swords’ extra effects!

[casualtragedyy]

For some reason, I thought that everyone's individual weapons, just magically appeared in their pockets like percy's pen/Anaklusmos.

But then, in The Lost Hero, Jason loses his coin/sword/javelin thing. That must just suck, right?!

[tending-the-hearth]

does anyone else ever randomly think about this or is it just me

[astral-06-17]

[nicodiangeloisliterallymefr]

ok, so hear me out

imagine if Percy Jackson's sword, anaklusmos, had ANOTHER cap

like one is the normal ol' riptide sword and the other is a trident (mainly cuz I want percy to have a spear-like weapon)

think of one of those two colored markers with a pen on each side, but if the cap could be put on top the other cap so he could still write (they would 100% have different colored ink, I'm thinking celestial bronze and blue)

and think of how much further we could go: imagine one of those pens with like 4-5 colors and each click is a different weapon or one of those highlighter wheels that would also have a different weapon per cap

all of this is under the assumption that Leo would do this to riptide and make it like 50% cooler