#i think the exception for this May Be ….. percy

[swordoffrivolousthings]

Thoughts about Heroes of Olympus and how it could have been better.

Sometimes I think about what would have made HOO a better series. And I'm not talking about the obvious 'too much focus on romantic relationships' and the lack of usage of certain characters or the dumb ending.

I mean the little things that would change so much (mainly character dynamics but also worldbuilding i.e. Camp Jupiter and Gaia's reasoning)

Some of the points are inspired by @crisisreading and their posts. They are the first I saw raise some of my own points so! part 2

Make the ages vary more in the main cast, trust me

Let Percy, Annabeth and Grover get older by 4-5 years. Let them become adults and find themselves outside the godly war. Let them even finish college, I wouldn't get mad. Let them do anything beside being teenagers.

I promise this would make the dynamics more interesting. Percy and Annabeth will be more mentor figures, than fellow comrades. This would create some distance between some of the them, but ultimately create something fun. Piper would come to see some aspiring female figure in Annabeth (I think this would ether be positive or negative, depending how Annabeth changed as a character over the years, but I tend towards negative). Leo would potentially have someone older to exchange ideas with. Jason would possibly feel intimidated by Percy's vastly superior age, prowess and experience, instead of being able to clash heads with him.

Hazel would have not one, but two that people that would play parent to the others' reckless behavior. (go snort your harmful stereotypes up your ass, Riordan.) Frank, when telling Percy and Hazel about his stick, would possibly find in Percy a kind hand (not that he wasn't kind already, let me explain) and Percy would probably share with him this feeling of vulnerability - not dump it on Frank - about having your life tied to a specific thing. I mean his Achilles heel, with which he would have lived for far longer.

And a whole lot more.

2. Add Grover into the series as a perspective character

You have a new trio dynamic introduced in the first book of the series. Let the original trio interact as main characters and let us see how their relationship has changed.

Grover's opinion on the conflict between the gods and Gaia would be important. He is the Lord of the Wild, and Gaia is the literal personification of the Earth. Let us see his struggle between the loyalty he has to the gods and his friends and his powerful feelings towards protecting nature.

Also, he would act as a protector for the demigods. Because while I enjoy Hedge, he is not enough to keep them safe.

3. Throw the bullshit about Gaia getting revenge for Kronos' defeat out of the way

Gaia, as mentioned before, if the personification of the Earth. One of the first gods to emerge from Chaos.

Gaia can, of course, keep her resentment for the gods defeating the son that freed her from her pain (caused by Ouranos initially). But she is a mother goddess. She should want obliterate humanity because humans are slowly killing her. Painfully. She wants to survive and the only way she sees how if by killing all the humans. She wants to save her children, aka animals, insects, nature, and the only way she sees is bloodshed. Gods are not rational in their anger, no one is. So let her be angry and vengeful and out for human blood.

DO NOT MAKE HER A FUCKING VILLAIN, MAN! Make her an antagonist, but someone's whose ideals are worth taking in and adapting. Kinda like Luke about the demigod and minor god recognition. Where have the themes of the original series gone? Remember, an important theme in BOTL was protecting the environment. It was one of the most important moments when Pan faded. Do not let that go to fucking waste. Especially not now, in the world we live in.

4. Show the effects the war had on Camp Half-Blood. Hint it at Camp Jupiter, when Percy does not have the memories to corelate it with

We've had years since the end of the Second Titan War. How did the gods change the course of events ? (the victors write the histories) How much of Luke's reasoning for starting the war was erased. (hint, all of it.) Show us how much the perspectives were shifted and how much the people that fought in it were made into martyrs and villain, basically becoming caricatures.

Let us feel how much this hurts Percy, Grover and Annabeth. How it had impacted and impacts their trauma, grief and utter horror. The younger, newer campers see them as wonderful, all-just and loyal heroes of the gods. The way they hate it.

Good moment to implement the new cabins for the gods and let the new ones forget that it wasn't always this way. Let Percy's demand to the gods be forgotten, shoved under the rug. The tragedy unfolds, use it.

Since in Camp Jupiter none of the main characters have fought, let us see the subtility. Let the older legionnaires be ragged, scarred. Older and weary, with eyes glassy and suspicious. Have younger recruits have this heavy air around them. They know what happened, what killed most of the older people in the legion.

Have Jason, Hazel and Frank see these things in Annabeth, Grover and Percy too. They realise that oh. oh. these three have fought in the war, of course they would. Show them gain respect for the trio. The same kind of respect they have for the veterans back home.

5. Cut one of the Seven from the prophecy.

I know this seems radical, but it is a symbolism thing, which I think would be more interesting in a world based on Greek mythology.

It is established in PJO that three (3) is an important number: 3 Olympian sisters (Hera, Demeter, Hestia), 3 Olympian brothers (Hades, Poseidon, Zeus), 3 Fates, 3 quest members, 3 Furies, 3 godly realms (the Underworld, Olympus + the sky, the seas). Use this.

Give us six (6) prophesized heroes. It is, after all, the second most used number in the series and a multiple of 3.

I suggest Annabeth. Why? because she has her quest from Athena. Let that be her top priority, while hanging out on the Argo II to get to Rome. Let her bond with the younger demigods and have her possible death be always on her mind. Bring her hubris into play and she would think herself the chosen one, the one demigod child of Athena to survive. This would make her falling into Tartarus with Percy not letting her go more taxing on her psyche.

Show us how she hates herself because she took one of the principal quest members to certain death. She feels like she'd jeopardized the whole saving the world thing.

Cut the Seven to Six and let Annabeth die in Tartarus. Show us why a single-man quest is a death sentence. Why three (3) is such a valuable number.

6. CONSEQUENCES!!!

Jumping straight off the last point.

Change why Annabeth would end up in Tartarus. Make her ignore the string around her ankle because she thing that nothing bad can happen to her now. After all, Arachne is gone, right.

Let this be her undoing. I do not care how she dies, but make her choices, her hubris, be her undoing. Do not let her death up to a chance, a mistake or miscalculation. Show how toxic Tartarus is, because we do not see it enough, but make it Annabeth's idea, the plan by which she dies.

Do not make it Percy's fault. Let him try to do everything to keep her alive, but still failing. Attack his sense of loyalty, his self-esteem. Show how the experiences and her death affect him.

Bring the trauma from the last war back in those chapters, in a place where demigods leave something behind.

To less drastic things - let the others get hurt. Permanently. Show how this life affects and damages people physically, too.

Have one lose an eye, another get horrific scars. Lose a limb, a part of themselves. Do not make it seem like any other could have gotten the same wound.

Tailor them to their character, their pride and their skill. Hit them where it hurts most and let us see how it changes them.

Also, about Leo. Kill him too. The fact that he ended up alive is a deux ex machina. He should have suffered the consequences.

Also also, bring back the fatal flaws. They are missing from the series. Play with them, show why they are important parts of their characters. Bring back ancient Greek fatal flaws, and new ones that make sense in a modern world.

Hurt them because what hurts them is part of who they are. Show us why the Greeks invented tragedy.

7. Age up the target age. Go more young/new adult

I understand that PJO was made for middle schoolers. But the target audience had grown up alongside the characters, and as such they have matured.

This is why I said to age Percy, Grover and Annabeth up further. Leave some distance for the old and new readers to get up and personal with the new main characters. Have them find common ground with the new demigods but have their anchor in the old ones.

Make the readers work to understand and refamiliarize themselves wit the older demigods. Because they've changed.

Targeting a more mature audience allows exploring n. 6. The realistic consequences of living with the fear that something will come and eat you. How just a little mishap could change you for life. (or what has been left of it)

Please do not go grim dark. Show that despite this all, their purpose has not stopped existing. A life exists outside of your appearance or disability still exist, and while it would be hard, do not lose hope.

8. Hope, or lack of its importance in the Heroes of Olympus series

Alongside other callbacks and reinforcements of PJO's lore, where is Elpis (hope)? Why doesn't she appear as a larger theme in the books? I don't know.

Elpis is still in the jar, having been used as a threat of defeat. But now Kronos is gone. Have Gaia use it as s symbol for her own cause.

Make hope Gaia's argument. The most important part of why her cause stands. Gaia is waking now because there is no hope for the betterment of the planet while in human - and therefore godly - grasp. She wants to save the planet, but they, the destroyers, are opposing her.

Hope is what she wants to bring back. The hope that death will not be the end of life, but further evolvement and betterment of all species.

This argument is what the counterargument should unravel. All species? Why are humans considered irredeemable, unworthy of becoming something greater?

Why can't they not coexist and why can't humans learn how to care about the world surrounding them.

Make hope for humanity and for the environment not a question of if they are capable to coexist, but how we can manage that. Humanity and nature are not mutually exclusive, but two halves of the same whole that need each other to sustain their longevity. Yes, nature can exist without humans, but humans can't.

This does not mean that the best way forward is to kill all humans.

There is no need for hope in HOO because there are no greater questions being asked about topics that require hope, because otherwise we would descend into nihilism and fatalism.

9. Give the gods reason to act the way they act, or a look at a greater narrative problem in the series

I may be generalizing, but the gods act erratically and make choices convenient for the plot, as it is, to happen.

Hera: how, specifically, does she know that Gaia is rising and what her plans are. Why is she against Gaia, when the older goddess has a track record of helping the Olympians on different occasions in the myths. Why does she decide to act when she does, how she knows that the king of the giants (whatever his name may be) is coming after her right then.

We don't know.

Athena: we understand why she wants the Athena Parthenos back. Why not force the Romans to give it back. After all, she is a goddess, even if the Romans don't respect her as the Greeks did, she has power and sway over them. Why send her children, a supposedly important part of what brings her glory, to a near-certain death. Is it misguided vengeance, an obsession to get the statue back at all cost, or simple cruelty. These reasons could apply very well to sending the Romans, yet she doesn't.

Zeus: why lock down Olympus? Paranoia, which fair, but you are a King, why wouldn't you look after your subjects? (bc Riordan chose to ignore part of his characterization in the myths and part of his godly domain) (I know kings aren't perfect, but after the last war, one would think he would do everything in his power to stop another one before it begins) Why not seek justice for Octavian's lies, that affect their ability to win the war, and kill/imprison him? Justice is part of his domain, as Zeus Nomius.

I know that we wouldn't necessarily need these answers, but without some of them, some choices left hanging seem to be there only to add to the drama and danger of it all.

All in all, I have many problems with the 'Heroes of Olympus' series. Some of them are nitpicks and personal preference as a high fantasy reader in my free time. Some of them would really add to the story and continue the themes of PJO.

Please ask me if something wasn't clear to you. I'll happily explain further.

If you find something you don't agree with, let's discuss. I'm open to changing my opinions.

[lanternlightss]

realizing that once again my first fic for a fandom will be hitting a character with a bat emotionally and i. how. is this turning into a pattern

[heartthrobin]

all's fair in love and war (2)

oliver wood x female!reader

wc: 7.87k

warnings: enemies to lovers, still so damn much pining, set in poa, timeline is a bit wonky, limited use of y/n, archie being my fav oc, cheese fest

an: literally fell asleep on my laptop last night editing this, i was so exhausted from school so i’m sorry it’s late !!! but i had the most fun in the world writing this and i hope everyone enjoys :)) don't forget to comment and repost your favourite writers

summary: Oliver is still impossibly miserable, maybe more uncooperative than before, except now when you look at him: you can't think of much else beyond how sweet his lips tasted.

part one

You can’t sleep.

You're not sure you'll find sleep ever again.

“I knew it, I knew it—“ Cherry had bounced the whole way to your dormitory, howling into your ear. “I knew it!”

The image of Oliver’s fluttering eyes swum around your brain as you blinked into the darkness of the poster bed. The taste of his tongue and his words still right against your lips.

It was a riddle of a calibre that you can’t seem to detangle. More than anything, you try to remember how strong has he tasted of Firewhisky - was he so drunk to really dismiss it to nothing at all?

You lingered on it all weekend.

Cherry didn’t help at all — he’s been in love with you forever, that’s literally so obvious — and Enzo even less so once he’d been filled in: Oliver doesn’t seem a bloke who let’s alcohol make his decisions for him, something about Scottish genetics I think.

The interaction plagued you: digging a wide hole in the base of your stomach. You mourned the thought that you may never have the opportunity to kiss those soft lips again, more than anything: preparing yourself for the feud between yourselves to worsen.

There’s barely enough time to make sense of your situation before you’re racing down over the grassy hills of the grounds, bag swinging violently over your shoulder and extraordinarily late for your Herbology lesson in the greenhouse.

Your morning alarm had rung right into one ear and out the other, a product of the tossing and turning you’d been doing for the last two nights.

When you swing the greenhouse door open, panting and face flush from the beating sun, the whole room turns to you. Sprout pauses where her hands are flailing in explanation.

“Sorry I’m late professor,” you wheeze, readjusting your strap over your shoulder.

Cherry is smirking at you from her bench, sidled up with Jane Emmet.

It hadn’t escaped you that you’d be sharing the lesson with the Gryffindors, but you’d precious little time to worry about it in the five minutes you had to pull a robe over your head and stick a toothbrush into your mouth.

Your eyes are purposeful in not looking over the room. Scared to catch the wrong eyes.

“Not a problem peach, we’re just repotting some Fire-Seed Bushes.” She brings a stubby hand to her chin, “uhm … well, Mr Kumar there in the corner doesn’t have a partner. Go join him by his pots.”

Archie has a lopsided smile on his face when you approach, a thick black curl drooping over his left eye.

“Hey.” He nudges gently.

You set your bag down and grab a pair of gloves, chuckling. “Hey Archie.”

The soil is warm when you stick your fingers into the dirt, shifting it gently enough not to mess over the edge of the bucket. There’s a Fire-Seed Bush sitting tentatively at the end of the bench, spitting sparks and emitting smoke.

“So …” Archie speaks first, the back of his hand bumping yours between the black soil. “How was your weekend?”

It’s a veiled question, a poorly veiled one at that. The question draws a laugh from the base of your stomach.

You shrug, adamant on missing the point. “It was alright, I guess. How about yours?”

He shrugs right back. “Wasn’t the greatest. Penelope Clearwater rejected me for Percy Weasley.”

You don't mean to, you really don't, but it draws another bout of laughter out of you - you clap your hand over your mouth. “I’m sorry—“

“No, I get it. Percy bloody Weasley?” His brow is creased, dirt-stained hands rising messily from the soil to swipe at a fallen piece of hair in his face. “Dead sure that bloke's own mother can't say he’s handsome. I’m better looking than him, surely?”

There’s the hanging insinuation that it was rhetorical, but you reply anyways: “you’re definitely more handsome than Percy Weasley, Archie.”

His head cocks down at you, stained paws finding his waist and pressing black fingerprints into the red jumper. “You really think so?”

“Without a doubt.”

Archie smiles, bumping your side against his. You think he might be blushing. “You’re very charming. I understand what Oliver sees in you.”

You jolt involuntarily, spilling some black soil over the edge of the pot.

Swiping at the mess lazily, you play the comment off with another crumbly chuckle: hoping it convinces him more than it does yourself. “Oliver sees in me what a bull sees in a red cape.”

Archie’s reaching timidly for the Fire-Seed Bush, lifting it off the counter and holding the dangerous botanical at arm’s length. “Not true. The boy’s half in love with you.”

This conversation is getting awfully uncomfortable awfully quickly. It picks at your curiosity nonetheless.

“He said that?”

He’s quick to shake off the question, eyes still trained on setting the roots of the bush into the gap in the soil. “Oliver doesn’t have to say anything. He spends practically every fucking mealtime mooning over at your table, and he talks about you way more than necessary—“

“That’s just because I work on his nerves. Oliver doesn’t love me, he barely tolerates me.”

The boy turns on you, confusion set in his brow. “Why is this news? Last I saw you, your tongue was halfway into his stomach.”

Zachariah Smith and his Gryffindor partner look up at that. Your face goes hot all over - Archie doesn’t seem to notice.

“We were drunk.” You say softly, eyes stuck on a loose leaf crackling against the wooden counter.

There’s a special kind of fear that's crawling into your heart where you stand. The fear of putting too much faith into the words of Archie Kumar.

That it’s an elaborate ruse. A set-up, canons of confetti and a banner screaming “you’ve been fooled!” if you were to indulge his words. The danger of allowing your mind to drift too far off into the possibilities of a world wherein Oliver Wood doesn’t hate you - at least not as much as he lets on.

Archie looks at you out the side of his eye, you can feel it, but says nothing. He hands you a miniature yellow-handled spade.

Instead you fill the space. "I heard Isla Flynn has a crush on you."

He perks: "really?"

Across the room, Oliver is bumping elbows with Poppy Davis.

"Ow!"

A loose spark has evidently landed on her exposed arm. The sparks that Oliver was supposed to be watching for, the ones that he is intent on ignoring with the constant glancing back over his shoulder to where you and his best mate are in the corner of the room fucking giggling at each other like toddlers with a box of matches.

“Oliver — can you just focus for five seconds!” Poppy isn’t impressed.

Oliver isn’t either, with the situation as a whole. The pads of his fingers are blistered from the repotting of the bush and Poppy’s careless bumps and his general indifference to the task at hand.

It eats at his brain. What are you guys talking about? Is it about him?

You laugh again and it’s loud enough that it draws his shoulders all the way taut. There’s another snap of a spark and Oliver feels where it lands at his wrist, but he doesn’t react.

“Just pass me the bloody spade.” He grumbles.

-

The lesson passes more slowly than Oliver could swim shoulder-deep through molasses.

It feels like years later when he tosses his gloves into the box with the rest, when the class shuffles to return tools and begin slinging half-open bags over their shoulders.

Oliver doesn’t think he’s ever packed up faster - Poppy is still scowling at him, he doesn’t care - before he’s knocking through yellow and red tied students to find Archie’s head of curly black hair.

“Hey!” He catches him by the wrist, tugging on it like a dog with a bone. Archie jumps, eyes winding down to find his friend. “What did she say?”

You’re far ahead, Oliver can make out the back of your head: hips bumping with Cherry’s up the hill towards the castle.

Archie grins. “She said Isla Flynn has a crush on me.”

Oliver groans, “Not about that, you prat. About— wait, really?”

"Yeah!" He hikes his bag higher on his shoulder. "Can you believe it? She's got that hot Irish accent and everything."

Oliver nods, "Yeah ... yeah. Good on you, mate."

He's trying desperately not to steal this moment from his best friend, but he's fucking itching to know what else you and Archie had been giggling about.

"Did she ... say anything else?" He presses, more gently than his character usually allows. "Like about me?"

Archie shrugs without looking down. "I asked her, but she seemed tense about the whole thing."

"Tense?"

"Yeah, she said something about a bull and a cape, and went like all quiet when I told her you like her--"

At that, Oliver's stomach leaps up into his throat. He grabs his best friend by the arm, jolting him to a short stop. Some Hufflepuff bumps into their halted figures, grumbling before shuffling around them.

"You told her what?" His eyes flare erratically.

Archie shrugs, an innocuously confused look painting his features. "Well I said Oliver's half in love with you, or something like that and she looked all confused about it--"

Oliver's grip on his friend's wrist tightened to a degree that a ring was sure to form on his dark skin. "You fucking pinhead! You told her I liked her?"

Pulling his arm violently from his grip, Archie has the nerve to look affronted. "You don't?"

The morning sun shining over Oliver's head feels like it's growing hotter by the second, there's a dribble of sweat running down his spine.

"That's -- that's not the point. Even if I do, which I'm not saying is the case, she doesn't need to know that."

"Were you two obliviated in your sleep last night?" Archie's eyebrows are pressed down against his eyes, slouching down to meet his friend's face. "I caught you two making out like the world was ending less than three days ago! Surely she has to figure that you feeling something for her, she's not stupid."

Oliver struggles between his thoughts, worse around his words. "That was ... we'd been drinking. For all I know, she only kissed me back cause she was trollied off Dragon-Barrell--"

"She said that, too."

Eyeing him, Oliver's hands find his hips. "Said what, exactly?"

"That you were drunk, I mentioned the kiss and she said we were drunk."

A sensation he can only identify as closest to guilt seeps up into Oliver's chest from his stomach. "She thinks I kissed her just cause I was drunk?"

Archie's hand finds Oliver's shoulder. "You should probably talk to her, mate."

He sighs, eyes drifting over the silhouette of the castle in the distance. He shakes his head like it'll rattle the plaguing thoughts loose. "We're gonna be late for Transfig."

-

"I mean, Archie is his best friend." Cherry is trying to rationalise the whole story. "I don't see why he'd lie about it?"

You shake your head, knocking shoulders with a Ravenclaw girl trying to pass through the corridor. "I'm not entertaining it, Cherry."

"Come on," she sighs, practically skipping to keep up with the furious pace you've set. "Would it be so terrible if he likes you?"

"Yes." You don't look at her.

The redhead's eye-roll is practically audible, "Let me rephrase, would it be so terrible if he likes you back?"

You meet her eyes for the first time since you'd entered the corridor.

She sighs, "we're gonna see him in Muggle Studies in five minutes. I think you should say something."

"Forget I said anything, Cherry." Heat flares at your neck again, prompted by the embarrassment of even imagining how such a conversation might go.

The rest of the walk is quiet, but you feel Cherry's gaze warming the side of your face.

Burbage's classroom is over-populated with Gryffindors by the time you drop your bag against the marbled floor beside your desk. In the corner of your eye, your brain has already fixated on Oliver's silhouette leaned against the edge of his own desk. You flush hot all over again, as if your thoughts were transcribing into subtitles and floating above your head for the whole class to read.

The click of Burbage's heels prompt the lingering students to find their seats, "Please take out your copies of Muggle Wars: Cause and Effect. We left off on page eighty-seven--"

You suddenly regret snapping at Cherry. Wishing for the comfort of her presence, your eyes glazing over where she's perched in the first row of desks closest to the chalkboard.

Unusually, the class trickles on without disruption. There's a few glances over at your direction, like everyone is waiting for another outburst from the grade's most volatile duo. They're sure to be let down, you're adamant to not even breathe in the direction of Wood.

Burbage comments on it, too, nearly ten minutes from the bell.

"It's suspiciously quiet in your corner today, captains." she looks down through her fingerprint-smudged frames, brushing over you and then Wood three seats away. "Something the matter?"

You shrug, refusing to acknowledge the boy. He seems to be doing the same: completely unfairly, the thought that he wouldn't look at you made the hair on your arms stand straight. "We can start up if you'd like, professor?"

Her face contorts into that irritated look that you'd grown accustomed to when Professor Burbage addresses you. "You're flirting dangerously with another session of detention, miss."

"She's just answering your question, professor."

Nobody in the class seemed more surprised than Burbage, although that in itself was a feat. The two Gryffindor boys in the row ahead of you swivel all the way around in their seats to look at Oliver, who'd just spoken.

You fight the twitching urge to look at him.

"Detention for two, it seems. I'll be seeing you both Friday afternoon."

A calm air settles again over the class, as if order had been restored. You and Wood had lost the interest of the room and students shift back to the board where WHAT IS A PRIME MINISTER? is sprawled across it in chicken-scratch handwriting.

Sighing, your eyes find the clock against the wall. Eight minutes left.

You pick at the end of your quill irritably: electing to dip it into the ink at the edge of the desk and entertain yourself quietly by drawing a miniature snowman at the corner of your page, trying not to think about another Friday afternoon in too close of a proximity to Oliver Wood. There's a soft whir, barely audible if you weren't so focused on outlining pebble eyes, and a tiny paper-airplane whizzes quietly from under your desk: landing squarely on the nose-less head of your snowman.

Fear prickles at you. You don't look up for the source, lest a suspicious sideways glance earns you another weekend with the party-animal Charity Burbage.

Instead, you carefully undo the intricately folded wings of the plane. It's barely big enough to fit into your palm once open, the top of the little note marked in black ink.

It was the same handwriting that marked the sign-out sheet for equipment in the Quidditch storage rooms down at the pitch.

'Thanks for that one, smart-mouth.'

Your eyes flicker up to Burbage, who's back is turned, before you dip your quill into the ink and scribble out a response. In your peripheral, Oliver is leaned back in his stool: biceps folded over each other. There's an unexplainably airy-fairy, fuzzy feeling warming your rib cavity.

'Believe this one was your fault, dickhead.'

You quietly refold the creased edges, before tapping it lightly with the end of your wand: then watch how it takes off the airstrip of your page and zips quietly under the cover of desks to land back in front of the sender.

There's a long pause - enough for Burbage to draw out a whole flow diagram of something called "parliament" - before the edge of the paper wing grazes at your calf again. It lands quietly again.

'Maybe.

We good?'

There's a gentleness to the sentence. Like you can hear it from Oliver's mouth, like he's avoiding your gaze when he whispers it.

You hunch over the note again.

Oliver's knuckles are turning white, twisting his wand in his hands under the table. He shouldn't have said anything. He's regretting the whole fucking idea of the stupid paper-plane now.

He's trying not to watch you write, not to notice how long you stared at his writing before you picked up your own quill. He does anyways.

When the airplane flutters down into his palm, Burbage is already excusing the class. Stools are scraping against cold tile, the clutter of textbooks being crammed back into bags.

'Never :)'

His eyes run over the word once, twice, three times over. A smile is tugging at the edge of his lip, he forces it taut - but his eyes are still shining unusually brightly when Archie knocks his shoulder to his.

"What you looking so damn happy about?"

Oliver tucks the note into the pocket of his robes. "Don’t know what yer talking about."

-

"But professor, why can't Hufflepuff take Saturday?"

"Well, Hufflepuff already gave up our practice days for Gryff--!"

Hooch sighed so deeply she almost melted back into her armchair. "The decision is made, Oliver. The pitch is being cleaned out on Wednesday, your team can take Saturday for any extra training."

He could practically hear the smile creeping onto your face, the smug crossed-arm look he'll no doubt find when he turns to you.

Irritation bubbles up in his throat, a familiar companion in your presence, and just as he prophesied: you are grinning.

In the weeks that followed that day in Burbage's class, it seemed that both parties decided that the topic of their shared kiss outside the Ravenclaw common room was best left undiscussed.

The arrangement is working. At least Oliver thinks so.

You still bait him and he still snaps, rising to your taunts. He still finds himself in detention more Fridays than he spends free, and his body ripples with anger when you roll your eyes at him.

But it was in moments, like this now, where your little self-satisfied grin doesn't quite vex him to the degree it once did. It's now harder to find a retort, to snap at you with a sharp-edged comment. Not when amusement crinkles at the corners of your eyes where your black lashes kiss so prettily.

Hooch swivels in her chair to find a document between one of her cluttered drawers, you take the opportunity to stick the tip of your tongue out childishly at him.

Oliver draws a tight breath, he hopes his face is still taut in annoyance, because his heart has slipped like a stone down into his stomach. That's the other issue, the tiny little obstacle in these recent weeks: he can't stop looking at your mouth. It's distracting, disarming - paralysing at the best of times.

He strips his gaze away, before he can be outed by anyone in the room. "Whatever." He mumbles.

You seem disappointed in his lack of a real response, but it passes quickly - like a shadow - over your face.

"Thanks professor." You grab up your roster from her desk and turn to the door, practically skipping out into the corridor.

He huffs.

Somehow, you and Archie have become fast friends. Mornings around Fire-Seed Bushes and Venomous Tentaculas in the heat of Greenhouse Three seems to do wonders for a friendship.

It prickles at Oliver's nerves when you pass in the corridors, when you perk up with a high "hey Arch!" and he grins down from his towering height right back at you: "hey Y/n!"

You don't look at Oliver. He's notably sour the rest of the walk.

Alright, maybe the whole arrangement wasn't really working. You were a distraction to him before, no doubt, but somehow your powers of beguilement had tripled. Especially since you seem to be behaving perfectly normal: like you hadn't given Oliver the best snog of his life outside the Ravenclaw common room that night.

Maybe it was just alcohol, maybe he is the only one plagued by the knowledge of the other's taste.

The castle has turned impossibly colder, the bitter bite of winter stinging at the loose cuffs of his robes on walkthroughs of the corridors. He can't imagine how cold the air above the pitch is going to be on Sunday when Hufflepuff faces off Slytherin for a spot in the finals.

It's all Hooch has been going on about for the last two weeks.

Oliver's had to shift around at least four practices - Roger almost twice as much, he's a pushover - to allow for you and Marcus to have more time on the pitch. His complaints fell on deaf ears, Hooch dismissed him with a wave of her bony hand and a "your time is coming, Wood."

You prance into dinner late most evenings, hair in every direction and face flush with sweat: sticking it out like a bumblebee in those awful yellow quidditch robes.

Oliver only notices because, annoyingly, he's found that he is frequenting the bench at the Gryffindor table that faces over to the Hufflepuff's. His eyes drift over the yellow-tied heads to where you clump up with Enzo and Cherry, watches you talk around mouthfuls of toast lazily, giggle behind your napkin: head rolling back to showcase that smooth neck, how it runs down to the soft slopes of your shoulders: disappearing down into your button-up.

Archie has noticed, he's sure, but hasn't done more but allude to it with teasing glances or suggestive comments.

"The Hufflepuffs up to something particularly interesting over there, Ollie?"

The speed with which Oliver's eyes snap to his peas is almost comical. He shrugs and mumbles like a child. "Don't know."

-

On Sunday morning, you don't go to breakfast.

There's an uncomfortable gurgling in your midriff, like a snake is slithering between your organs and you're sure even just the smell of eggs on toast would bring up your dinner.

Instead you find yourself at the pitch a whole hour before the game is set to start. Marcus is running laps around the grass, something he's done since you've known him.

He offers a curt wave, face set like cold stone.

It reminds you of Oliver a little bit, the distraction in his eyes.

Oliver is never all the way there, wherever he is, you think. His eyes mist over like he's halfway between this world and another. You know it's Quidditch: he dreams it, eats it, sleeps it.

But lately he's foggier than usual.

You think it's your imagination, brush off the idea as you have all the millions of others you'd had in the preceding weeks about the surly brute that was Oliver Wood. He plagues you.

Just the vibrato of his unimpressed huff when you get your way, when you quip something purposely annoying at him. It's addictive, the feel of his sugar-brown eyes glaring a hole through you.

Lately, his reactions have been closer to underwhelming. Allowing for only a moment of eye contact: gone are the quick-witted retorts, the Scottish-laced "princess" usually attached. The thought makes you wince in embarrassment, knowing that you've been pressing him harder lately: like a seven-year old jabbing at a claw machine, outwardly desperate for that brown plushy on the top of the pile.

Maybe he's over it. So deathly mortified of your shared kiss that he doesn't want to know you anymore, much less take the effort to hate you. Your chest pinches tightly.

You dress into your match robes slowly, taking your time with the loops of your shoelaces and the buttons down the sweater you're wearing underneath everything. Oliver Wood should be at the bottom of your list of priorities, normally, but now more than ever.

The team filters into the change-room, exhibiting varying degrees of nervousness. Cedric is practically green, but Herbert looks like he's about to go down a water-slide he's waited over an hour in line for. Beyond the swinging doors, you can hear the crowd shuffling loudly into their seats.

Before your wits are completely about you, Hooch is rapping on those same doors. "Onto the pitch, Hufflepuffs!"

You muster up your best excuse for a captain's speech for what might be the last match you ever play as one. The team seem satisfied, you figure it's easy to find solace before a game when you know it's not your last. As the only seventh year, comfort doesn't come so easily to you.

The crowd is deafening when yellow robes take to the sky: Marcus looks over, offering another nod, not unlike the one he'd given you earlier. You can tell he's feeling the dread of finality too.

There's a whistle blow and the quaffle flies past your face with a speed that nearly evacuates your nose from your face. Lee is announcing in the distance and the rumble of adrenaline forces your fingers over the handle. It tilts and you dip, disappearing into the sky of players.

-

The winter air at Hogwarts was biting enough roaming the corridors, but thirty metres off the ground is something wholly unnatural. Your face was burning crisp from the icy wind, the feeling in your cheeks and nose lost to the Scottish cold.

Foggy white clouds puff out with each heavy breath. Cedric zooms past and Jane loops around his moving figure to knock a stray bludger in the opposite direction.

Your eyes flash between them and the fast approaching Malcolm, he tosses the quaffle at you with a grunt and you catch it at the tips of slippery, ice-frozen fingertips.

Shooting forward again, you duck under Marcus who is hurtling through the sky at you: gone is the look of friendly fondness from his eyes, replaced with a hunger for the leather-bound ball in your grasp.

Just missing the grasp of his meaty hand, the ball passes onto Heidi.

"Another ten points to Hufflepuff," Lee's voice echoes as if from heaven. "That brings the score to ninety for Hufflepuff and eighty for Slytherin!"

It's been nearly ninety-five minutes of sitting on your broom growing colder, and you're not alone.

Around you, the team is descending into frost-induced exhaustion: Jane's nose is as bright red as a Christmas ornament and Cedric has been peeping over the top of his thick woollen-scarf for at least the last half - barely enough to catch a glance of the whizzing canary and emerald robes, much less of a tiny golden snitch.

You sigh out another white breath, letting your eyes drift over the stands. It's saturated with moving heads of faces you can't make out and yellow and green swaying banners. Your gaze lingers on the top left, in the corner facing the castle. It's where Cherry and Enzo park themselves during every match, where you know they're screaming in support, clenching their teeth at every quaffle handover. You can feel them, even when their faces blur into the crowd.

Unintentionally, you think about how Oliver's mixed in there too. Somewhere between your peers. If you had been granted another moment, if the quaffle wasn't mid-air between two Slytherins just under your nose and you'd not taken the opportunity to snatch it from them, you would have meandered into the trap of hoping that deep down in his chest - even if it was core of the earth deep - he was rooting for you, too. That he seethed at a missed goal or clenched a tight fist at his side in celebration when a Hufflepuff makes a beautiful play.

Meanwhile in the stands, Oliver has decided that the desire to play his allegiances in secret has since disappeared from his heart.

He'd played it light in the first few minutes. Mumbling under his breath at a fumbled pass or a slimy move from the Slytherins, but by the forty-fifth minute he'd found himself on his feet.

"Diggory!" His hands waved in front of him, "it was right there you fucking git--"

A Hufflepuff third year a row ahead looked at him askew, but he paid her no mind.

Archie had taken the hint early. As soon as Oliver was out of his seat, so was he. Despite being Oliver Wood's best friend, Archie had somewhat limited knowledge of the game himself and eyed Oliver's reactions to find the appropriate moments to whoop and cheer. Oliver didn't say anything, but he appreciated it more than he could verbalise.

His eyes tracked you more than anything, when you were flying between players or just floating in place: eyes like a hawk, watching over the game. His heart swelled and his pride fell to the wayside.

Just short of the two hour mark, there was a rise in the crowd.

"The seekers have caught sight of the snitch!"

Oliver's stomach rose into his throat.

"They're diving for it, Malfoy and Diggory head to head-- and Slytherin grabs the snitch, winning by 140 points!"

It sank back into place, like a stone to the bottom of the river. He watched how you froze, how you twisted over your shoulder to find Diggory's figure lingering at the bottom of the field. You shoulders sagged, hanging in the air as the others dropped to the ground.

"Slytherin have made it into the finals against Gryffindor for the quidditch cup, back here at the pitch next month!"

After a long moment, the last in the sky, you followed them down.

The raucous cheers from the Slytherins were hard to drown out, he wasn't even sure Archie heard him toss a "i'll find you at the castle" before he found himself pushing through the masses of people.

He fought against the wave moving to find the stairs, eager to return to the warmth of their dormitories, but Oliver was markedly more motivated than the majority. He stomped on some toes and nearly tossed a first year off the stands to race down the stairs.

Only once his feet had found the mushy grass of the pitch, did he pause to consider that he wasn't entirely sure what he was going to say. What was the rush for? To comfort you, tease you for your loss?

The latter option was definitely what he could do, what he could say. What was expected of him, if he was being honest. Recently, however, he's found it harder and harder to come up with remarks to hurt your feelings. Found that he quite prefers that little smile that tucks into the corner of your mouth when he says something unexpectedly fond. How your eyes practically gleam.

There's shoving from all sides of him -- get out the way, bloody hell -- and the teams pass ahead of him. Leading the march, despite it being nothing more than a slow trudge, is your figure: squashed between those of who he recognises to be Cherry Stretton and Enzo Musa's.

Their arms wrapped over your shoulders, talking animatedly into your ear on each side. Enzo tips his head to meet yours, a small touch of comfort.

Oliver sighs. He has nothing to say and no comfort to offer, wondering for a moment what he could possibly bare to hear in his own final moments as captain. He thinks that anything from your mouth would work.

So he waits, parks himself beside the stairs and waits for Archie: watching the six-legged figure disappear up over the hill.

-

You're not at dinner.

He knows because he's been watching the door for the better half of an hour. Archie pushes his plate at him, "Eat something there, Ollie."

Begrudgingly, Oliver brings his drumstick up to his mouth. "She's not eaten a thing since breakfast, it's almost eight."

Archie passes a sympathetic look over him. "Her friends are here, I'm sure she'll be by soon. There's no use you joining her on a hunger-strike."

He's right. Cherry and Enzo and some others that frequent your circle are talking around the table, around the spot that you usually fill. But dinner goes on and students leak steadily out towards bed without your return.

Eventually Oliver huffs, like an irritated bulldog, and grabs for the nearest napkin: unfolding it out in front of him.

"What are you doing?" Archie asks thickly, spitting bits of rice at him.

Oliver reaches for two chicken skewers, placing them neatly on the white square: alongside a dinner roll and a pumpkin pasty.

He wraps them over, double wraps it with another napkin too.

"What does it look like, Arch."

Placing it carefully into the deep pocket of his robe, Oliver goes to stand - lacking the patience it takes for Archie to answer, or for his inevitable teasing. "I'll find you back in our room."

He's halfway out the hall when Archie's voice calls out to him, "You don't even know where she is!"

Oliver shakes his head, brandishing a dismissive hand over his shoulder. "I know where she is." He mumbles for only himself to hear.

-

You’d watched close to twenty-one quidditch matches from the stands at the pitch on Hogwarts grounds: played in almost half of them. 

The seat is still slightly too small, just uncomfortable enough to make a person shuffle. Beyond the rim over the other end of the pitch you can see the orange sun dipping behind the horizon, drawing to darkness over your moment alone.

By now you're sure the party in the common room has long since found momentum. The one you'd been promised by the team, "it's your last game, cap, we need to celebrate!". You're sure someone somewhere is looking for you, bracing a plastic cup of Firewhisky with your name on it, but you can't find it within yourself to face it all just yet.

The silence of the evening is enough, you only wish you'd been fast enough to retrieve your broomstick that's somewhere off with Enzo. Just for one last lap.

The serenity of your loneliness doesn't persevere, however. You can hear shuffling up the steps, you're tempted to look but the sunset is slipping so quickly out of your hands that it's not worth the time wasted.

It's only when the footfalls draw closer, stopping when a body slumps into the seat beside you. The seats are so cramped that his knee brushes yours, the figure long since identified from the corner of your eye.

"Come to gloat?" You ask, eyes never leaving the sky.

He shrugs. "Not today."

You nod. His smell drifts on the breeze under your nose, like peppermint and soap and Oliver.

There's a long silence. Your robes crease against the fist sitting in your lap, you've yet to change out of your quidditch uniform, you know it will be the last time.

"You missed dinner."

"Does it matter?"

Despite your avoidant gaze, Oliver's is warming the side of your face. The evening air cools the same spot.

There's a shuffling that finally draws your eyes. Oliver is still in his robes too, and his hand emerges from a deep pocket with a folded napkin square. "Figured you'd be hungry."

He places it onto your lap with a gentleness you're coming to find more of in him. Something frighteningly warm erupts in your chest and your hands come up to it, pulling apart the napkin to find picky bits inside.

You're fighting between smiling and starting to cry. You do neither.

"You carried this in your pocket the whole way from the hall?"

His eyes flicker between the food and your face before he shrugs. "Yeah."

By now, you were fighting a losing battle and the smile pulled up at the ends of your mouth so tightly that your cheeks started to hurt. "Gross."

You pick up a chicken skewer regardless, biting into it and facing the sky again. You offer him the other one and he looks for a moment like he's going to argue but takes it quietly in the end.

The chicken is tender and only after you'd swallowed the first bit did you realise how hungry you'd actually been. You finish it without a word, going to tear the pasty in half and offering a piece to your companion.

You're picking at the roll now, tearing tiny bits off and feeding it piece by piece to yourself like a bird. "Last game."

He nods. "I know."

"What could someone say to you after your last game, Wood?" You pick at him, eyes flittering between him and the now nearly black sky. "You know, to make you feel better?"

Oliver shakes his head, leaning back and rolling his shoulders: as if the thought itself unsettled him.

"Nothing, probably. I'd probably just walk into the Black Lake and drown myself."

You think he's joking, but with Oliver Wood that was hardly a sure thing.

"You wouldn't."

"What's there left to live for?" He says it with an airy chuckle.

Shrugging, your head falls against your shoulder. "You'd have to figure it out, because I'd go marching in right after you. Carry you out if I had to."

Oliver stills, eyes wide and blinking at you. Your chest goes tight, the ghost of a smile pressing at your face.

"Bridal style and everything ..." You add quietly, stifling your chuckle.

He seems to come back to himself, nodding. "We should get back. Been a long day."

The napkin crumples in your hand, shoved down into the depths of your own pocket. You walk ahead, the pathway to the steps is only narrow enough for one person at a time, and he trails behind.

By the time you've hit the steps, Oliver moving down beside you, you're brewing around an apology. A way to thin the air, to ease where your chest is tight: swirling around well done, now you've made things awkward you git. It's halfway up to your tongue when skin brushes against the back of your hand.

Warm fingers explore your knuckles to find your cool ones, slipping to knot between them.

You work not to look down, because Oliver's skittish like that. From the corner of your eye, you can see he's concentrating his gaze ahead.

His hand tightens against yours, palm callous from years wrapped around the wooden handle of his broomstick. It's a little sweaty and sticky but you're smiling so hard you're about to be sick.

You dare to look at him, Oliver's smiling too.

-

Oliver hasn't been sleeping.

His last few days of seventh year are slipping like water through his calloused hands and he can feel it. Every hour that passes, shadowy and fleeting.

Classes feel shorter than before, the terrible jokes Archie bombards him with over dinner sound funnier than he ever remembers them being and the glimpses he catches of you in the corridor never feel long enough. The ceiling of his poster bed flashes with moments of the day that's passed, feeling like a dream you'll be jolted out of as soon as it gets good.

Even over all his hours of broody contemplation, none of it makes the final whistle any easier to swallow. It hits him like he's been smacked with a bludger in the chest.

"Gryffindor has won the quidditch cup, two-hundred and thirty points to twenty!"

He can hear the crowd's roar, the whoops of the twins floating somewhere below him. Harry's standing on the grass of the pitch holding up his tiny golden trophy. The pitch is red all over: Oliver won.

He won.

Every moment building up over the last seven years culminated into the final blow of the whistle. The wind is whipping at the hair over his forehead: Oliver thinks this might be the happiest moment of his life, but he's not entirely sure.

He never realised that it would all be so fucking soaked in sadness.

It's over. He's leaving the castle empty handed. His engraving will live on the Quidditch Cup in a dusty cupboard for years to come, yes, and he might have a frame up in his future apartment somewhere, reminiscing on the old days. That's all.

He's struck with the devastating fear that in a few short years, nobody will remember him. More than anything, he can't believe he hadn't come to this overwhelming conclusion before right now. Before Angelina is yelling to him, waving a frantic hand and sporting the biggest grin in all of Scotland, before he was seconds from taking the prize he's held in his mind for so many years into his very hands.

Will you forget him?

It nearly knocks him off his broom. He finds that it scares him the most, more than the thought of the dust-caked trophy or the lonely corner at the back of his cupboard where his Hogwarts robes will no doubt live until eternity.

He won't forget you, he thinks. He knows.

You're just so damn annoying. And beautiful, fucking whip-clever and hilarious sometimes--

The handle of his broom is tilting down to the earth now, the crowd zooming into a blur on either side of him. He hits a shaky landing, broomstick abandoned on the grass behind him as he's pulled into the arms of his team and well-wishers.

A golden trophy passes over the heads of the twins and it's shoved into his sweating hands. It's cool to the touch and so much heavier than he thought it ever could be, but he can't seem to keep his mind on the situation long enough to realise any of that. His mind is racing around the castle wondering where you might be and what's the fastest way to get there.

His eyes are racing over the heads of the roving crowd. "Wood, Wood! Speech!"

Shadowing over everyone is Archie's tall figure standing at the back, grinning down at him. The team watches expectantly.

This is it. The moment for the speech he's been practicing in his bathroom mirror since he was seven.

"I--" he looks down at the cup for the first time, his face reflecting up at him in glimmering gold. He finds he can't remember any of the words. "I need to go find someone."

There's a buzz of confusion, but Oliver doesn't linger: shoving the Quidditch Cup into Harry's arms.

"That's the shortest speech Wood has ever given." He hears Angelina quip, but he can't be arsed to turn. He's already flying, moving through the crowd at such a pace he might just have been on his broom.

The sea of students had long since started moving up to the castle, particularly the non-gryffindors: trying to beat the stampede of scarlet that is no doubt to come. Oliver's legs carry him over the smooth green hill up towards Hogwarts, head craning over students to find your side profile somewhere in the mass.

He catches few oy, watch it!'s and congrats, Wood!'s but he doesn't turn, doesn't stop running. Students bespeckle the grass like ants lining up for crumbs, and he's all the way up into the stone corridor leading to the Great Hall when he spots Cherry's velvet red curls over the crowd, and sure enough, he finds you're knocking her shoulder with your own.

It only takes one shout of your name and you turn to peek curiously back, by which time he's taken both your shoulders into his hands and steered you to the wall of the corridor.

"Wood! What are you do--"

His hands squeeze around the plush at your upper arms. "Oliver. My name is Oliver."

Your eyes are wide in surprise, the window behind you showcases the gardens and the pitch in the distance. Sunlight forms a halo over the crown of your head.

With a head tilted in confusion, you nod slowly. "Alright ... what are you doing, Oliver?"

He can feel the eyes of Cherry and Enzo burning a hole through the side of his head, but doesn't bother with it. You're blinking up at him, gentle and benign in your features. He wonders when it became like this, when you'd lost the tight brow and the frown every time you looked at him.

"I won the Quidditch Cup." He says blankly.

You nod, a small smile tucked into the corner of your lip. "I saw. Congratulations."

Oliver only nods back at you. "I wanted to tell you. I wanted to come shove it in your face."

He's shuffling closer to your figure, and he's more than pleased to discover that you aren't cowering from it.

"Of course you did, because you're a prat." But you're smiling so hard now that it's impossible to take your jab to heart. "Is that all, Oliver?"

A warm sensation is spilling into his rib cavity and his fingertips are buzzing with electricity when they come to find either side of your face.

"No." His forehead is nearly touching yours and your hands have wrapped around his wrists. "I came to ask you out on a date. A sappy, disgustingly romantic date where I bring you flowers and pay for your hot chocolate. You'd hate it."

"That truly sounds horrible." Your smile is so wide he can barely see the whites of your eyes and it pumps more adrenaline through Oliver than any argument you'd ever shared over the last seven years.

"So, is that a yes?"

You're bouncing on your toes a little bit, bumping your nose against Oliver's clumsily. The babble of passing students and gawking onlookers has practically fallen mute to him.

"Depends, are you going to kiss me goodnight after?" You whisper it, like it's a secret between just you and him.

He nods slowly, "pretty desperate to kiss you right now, if I'm being honest princess--"

You don't wait for him to finish, thank Merlin you don't wait for him to finish, and push up onto your toes: crashing against his mouth. You're kiss is as dizzying as he remembers, but softer this time. You kiss like you know he's not running away, hands pressing softly over his neck.

It's nothing like your kiss outside the Ravenclaw common room: where that one was desperate and hot and angry, this time it's born from longing and tenderness and acceptance.

It leaves him just as fucking breathless as the first time.

Somewhere behind him, he hears wolf-whistling (he's sure it's Cherry) and when you pull your lips off his, your face is flush with embarrassment.

"I will go on a date with you, Oliver."

He takes your hand into his, curling his fingers between your own. You lean up to peck him softly and bat your eyelashes at him, grinning innocuously when you whisper: "If you treat me like you did with Delilah, I'm throwing your broomstick into the fireplace."

-

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[aroaceleovaldez]

I was reading a post about CoTG and I realized: Rick has seemingly started to write every character pairing with the exact same dynamic, and he's not good at writing that dynamic and it doesn't make sense for 90% of the characters he writes it for.

It's that very specific dynamic of one half of the pair who is almost aggressive to the other party - "teasing" them constantly/insulting them, affectionately punching/judo flipping/maiming/etc, seemingly almost always exasperated with the other - and said other party usually just accepts this treatment or blanketly views it fondly, and may generally be framed as more incompetent than their partner and a little bit of a doormat (particularly relating to being insulted/teased/etc by their partner).

We start seeing this dynamic in HoO with Percy and Annabeth, as a sort of semi-inconsistent twist on their rivals-to-friends-to-lovers dynamic from the first series. Then the dynamic pattern develops further with Leo and Calypso. Then Magnus and Alex. Then Nico and Will, particularly in TSATS. And now in CoTG, it's Percy and Annabeth again but even more in this direction.

I know people have talked about Nico and Will's relationship over the series rapidly being shoehorned into Percabeth Two™, and it's extremely apparent in TSATS that Rick's doing it on purpose (including directly quoting Percabeth scenes but minorly tweaking them to be Solangelo). But recognizing it as an overarching trend in Rick's later books honestly reminds me a lot of how Rick started trying to apply the "Percy Formula" so-to-speak to nearly every protagonist in HoO (and then try to replicate similar character archetypes with Magnus and Apollo's narrations - moreso Magnus in being jaded and sarcastic, very much trying to be first series Percy. He only sounds unique because Rick failed at making him Percy 2. Apollo is more akin to later-series Percy characterization of being goofy and incompetent. Apollo [and Zeus] even got retconned to give Apollo a more similar backstory to Percy's). Rick seems to have decided that he thinks the audience wants this specific dynamic but 10 times over, except he's not good at writing it the first time because it's a bastardization of the time he did a different thing okay.

And Rick also seems aware of that too! Because he retconned Calypso and Leo at the end of TOA, probably because he realized how absolutely awful it was reading when they were written with that dynamic of Calypso just functionally hating Leo and constantly being aggressive towards him! The only time Rick's actually made the dynamic even semi-successful was with Magnus and Alex, because it actually fits within their characters, their dynamics with each other, and their environment. Alex beheading Magnus on the regular works out fine because there are no repercussions to that in Valhalla, Magnus will be fine, so it does genuinely come off as humorous. And Alex has been effectively established to be abrasive at times but have her genuine feelings shine through regularly, and that meshes well with Magnus' jaded-and-aloof-but-quietly-very-empathetic character. And Magnus has been established to, yes, not be great at combat, particularly compared to Alex. They are the only time that flavor of dynamic in that form was effective and cohesive.

Percabeth is no longer rivals-to-friends-to-lovers badasses on equal levels with shaky pasts who finally found some form of permanence with one another. Now it's super smart doting and affectionately aggressive girlfriend and her silly goofy 50%-of-the-time incompetent boyfriend who she judo flips/pushes off cliffs/etc - but affectionately~! Solangelo is trying to riff off of the early series "Poseidon & Athena are enemies" dynamic that Percabeth had but with Apollo & Hades being "opposites" but learning to accept each other, except it ends up with Will just coming off as a huge asshole and Nico being retconned to a complete doormat about it - when prior to that those characterizations would be completely contrary to their established characters (even just from TOA!). Calypso in HoO gets retconned from her PJO characterization to being snooty and aggressive, and Leo's false persona gets merged into his just normal personality except he just also becomes a doormat but more goofy than Nico with occasional haha-dark/depression-humor! Which Nico also got. Which was also a bastardized Percy trait that got redistributed.

It's exhausting. Rick write more than one relationship dynamic you can do it I promise

[ruegarding]

Wait what's the tea on Wotg makin' Percabeth even worse? /gen /nf

tldr; rick is continuing his trend of having annabeth imply that she thinks her bf is stupid (u can see what i mean by trend here). this is coupled w a lot of ableism: acting like percy is too stupid to function and removing annabeth's disabilities so she can be a girl boss while refusing to address their mental health. this is supposed to make percabeth look cute, somehow, but instead comes off as mean-spirited at best.

first, to establish context, percy's incredibly overworked,

(he's also on the swim team) and bc of this percy is falling asleep in class and waking up in a panic. this is never addressed seriously despite being a series abt disability. as if that wasn't enough, percy also is never shown to enjoy any of his classes and is frequently written to be stuggling w his grades, just in case u forgot he was stupid (he also is written w the ableist stereotype of being lazy abt school work, too, instead of, you know, disabled). his main motivation is that annabeth will be successful with or without him so he better not be a stupid failure.

completely ignoring percy was the one who wanted to go to nru. also, zero mentions for the accommodation percy is receiving for his disabilities (nor annabeth's, but she's written like they don't exist so).

and then percy says that annabeth's friend, hana, doesn't like him bc she doesn't think he's good enough for annabeth, going on to think yeah that's fair. this is never addressed bc it's supposed to be a cute percabeth and #girl boss annabeth moment. then percy makes a joke (?) that annabeth's friends are gossiping abt how annabeth can stand to date him when he's too stupid to understand architecture when percabeth walks away to talk. this is not a percabeth win and i'm genuinely not sure how anyone on rick's team thought it was.

then there's this:

just in case u forgot, percy is the stupid one and annabeth is the smart one. teehee.

and, in relation to ignoring their mental health, annabeth talks abt putting spider webs all over hecate's mansion (bc she wants to make a haunted house), which rick says is ok bc it's not spiders. except part of annabeth's huge traumatic fight w arachne was being covered in spiderwebs that literally pulled her into tartarus. so. weird plotline. similarly, percy has a bit abt having nightmares abt cereberus, which is equally stupid. i talked abt it here. not necessarily percabeth but worth mentioning for context. oh, and percy also bodily-fluid-bends later in the book w no comment except annabeth's shocked expression. correction: while percy does bodily-fluid-bend w no fanfare, annabeth is not there. percy poison-bends in front of annabeth w no comment.

rick then keeps poking fun at how percy and annabeth would make great parents. which. they're seventeen. btw. but yeah anyway percy would make a great dad bc he's got the funny dad jokes (bc he's stupid. haha get it). annabeth would make a great mom bc she's soooooo nurturing what w taking care of a puppy who decides to call her mom and taking care of her stupid idiot useless boyfriend. i wish this was a joke. more on this later.

the line "[annabeth] looked surprised—me comforting her, kind of switching things up" is self explanatory and written specifically to piss me off.

this passage,

which sucks for many reasons, but especially bc this is rick trying to rewrite book canon w show canon despite very easy ways to include this without acting like percy is an idiot who just didn't notice for the past THREE BOOK SERIES (like a war that took place recently where chiron was injured idk just an idea). instead, percy has to take the fall for rick's error and annabeth has to act like her bf is the stupidest person on earth.

btw, did i mention that annabeth is ahead in her classes and percy sucks at school? teehee.

wow, it's like annabeth's dyslexia isn't even there!

now, it may seem that i'm exaggerating percy's incompetence.

this is a real quote from the book.

so is this!

and this.

and—u get the point. rick is acting like percy hasn't outsmarted his opponents bc his personality is stupid and annabeth's personality is reduced down to having the brain cell.

then, percy has a moment where his empathy shines thru and he's allowed to succeed at something (for the first time in the book), except he has to put himself down to make annabeth feel better. bc we can't have percy feeling good abt himself since it makes annabeth look bad. or something. idk.

again, there is no exploration of percy's self-esteem or their myriad of trauma.

to make up for all the times percy was treated like an idiot, annabeth says percy is "a pretty smart guy,"

which is a surprise to her despite them having known each other for five years.

furthermore, rick is writing percy w a sort of incompetence towards household tasks that is, quite frankly, sexist. here is a good post on how it mirrors weaponized incompetence and here is another one abt the disturbing nature of mom-ifying annabeth. i should make it clear annabeth provides percy food in multiple scenes while percy does adjacent to nothing. she also tucks him into bed like a child in one scene and gets nicknamed "mom" by a dog that pees on her (AND she cleans up the pee while percy does nothing).

so, wottg is essentially 300 pages of mean-spirited bullying from all sides. none of the humor shines through these jokes, none of the facetiousness, like hey isn't it funny that percy is really smart but sometimes completely oblivious, is there. there is no comedic disparity between percy's power and skill and his ability to trip over his feet bc there are no impressive feats of power and skill (anything that would count are immediately brushed off). comments abt percy learning to tie his own shoes w his newfound octopus tentacles don't land in a book where he's acting like he cannot have thoughts without annabeth. and there's no grace to be given bc at no point in any of this handled as a serious exploration of percy's insecurities despite the ample opportunity to do so.

then, when percy isn't being hounded w vitriol, annabeth is being reduced to a sexist caricature of a woman. it does not make percabeth look good in any way.

finally, i need to make it clear that however bad this breakdown makes the books seem, it is worse. i summarized and skipped over a ton of stuff for my own sanity.

[fantastic-nonsense]

I think people who genuinely wanted Percy to rebel against the gods and overthrow the system kind of...miss the whole point of the series

The question is not whether or not the gods deserve to rule; the books are kind of unambiguous that they don't! That the gods are generally undeserving of their children's loyalty is the one thing that Percy and Luke both agree on! But PJO is less about divine right to rule vs. ruling via consent of the governed and more about improving dysfunctional family systems. It's not about whether unfair rulers deserve to continue ruling; it's about forcing the gods to be better, fairer rulers and a better, fairer family given limited alternatives.

Because what are the alternatives, as presented to us within the scope of the original PJO series?

Option 1: allow Kronos to topple Olympus and take over. Clearly not a viable alternative for all of the reasons the books show us.

Option 2: the demigods overthrow the Olympians and rule the world themselves. Okay. How's that going to work out long-term, given demigods are mortal and cannot control or protect their parents' domains? Demigods will die out within a generation or two, so that's potentially a one-generation short-term solution, and then everyone's right back where they started. Except worse, because now the world has been out of divine balance for a century and the gods have a completely legitimate bone to pick with all demigods. Materially worse outcome.

Option 3: demigods ignore the gods and their will entirely. They integrate into the mortal world, refuse to participate in quests or talk to their parents, and pretend prophecies don't exist. Except that's clearly not a viable option, since we see that demigods usually can't safely exist in the mortal world without monsters coming after them, the gods are cruel enough to use blackmail and engage in hostage situations to get demigods to act as heroes, and prophecies have a way of coming true regardless of everyone's best attempts to circumvent them. Again: materially worse outcome.

And for Percy, for the demigods at Camp Half-Blood, for Luke and for everyone else who defected....for the most part, they don't actually have an inherent problem with the gods ruling them. They just want to be acknowledged, valued, and loved by their families, to be treated as more than a tool for their parents to wield whenever their services are needed. That was the core thesis of the demigod rebellion, which was wholly separate from Kronos' specific motivations for overthrowing the Olympians, and it's why Percy's asks at the end of TLO were what they were.

The point was always that had Percy grown up in a slightly more dysfunctional family environment...had he grown up with Frederick Chase's seemingly conditional love or May Castellan's madness instead of Sally Jackson's steady, quiet, unconditional love...he could have turned out like Luke. Like Ethan. Like the dozens of demigods who defected from camp to join Luke's cause. Percy could have turned out just as a bitter and angry and vengeful. Just as ready to tear down the system. Just as willing to betray and kill his own family for the sake of making a point.

But instead, Percy openly reprimands the gods for abandoning their families and using them as cannon fodder in their own petty disagreements. He forces them to acknowledge and claim their children. He demands that everyone who is part of the godly family be recognized and accepted, not just those related to the Twelve Olympians. He asks for those unjustly punished (like Calypso) to be set free and accepted back into the family. Because that's the point at the end of the day: not forcing bad rulers to step down, but changing an insanely dysfunctional family system that the gods and demigods are all members of into a better, safer, and more accepting environment for demigods to grow up and live in.

Overthrowing the gods wouldn't solve the problem at the heart of the series, which is the gods' shitty parenting and family management skills. It would only exacerbate the massive familial fault-lines that Kronos exploited and leave the demigods open to more godly manipulation. Which is why the series ends as it does, with Percy using his wish to tangibly improve the lives of his family instead of selfishly improving his own life (via accepting immortality/godhood) or overthrowing the gods. Because the conflict isn't about the gods as rulers. It's about the gods as parents.

PJO's core thesis is Percy, who grew up knowing unconditional familial love, looking at this whole world of children who didn't and saying "that's not fair. Gods should be better than this!" But instead of destroying them the way Luke wants to, instead of overthrowing them and putting himself on the throne, he instead challenges them to be better parents and family members. To be part of the solution instead of the problem. And Percy's demands don't solve everything, but they were necessary first steps! Without forcing the gods to acknowledge a bare minimum floor of inclusion, the cycle would simply begin all over again the next time a major conflict popped up.

So that's the problem Percy solves and how he successfully fulfills the prophecy: by believing that the gods had the capacity to change and forcing them to break the cycle of familial abandonment, he preserves Olympus and takes the first steps towards a new status quo, one that is objectively better for demigods than the one he grew up in. That's why he succeeds, and it's why Percy overthrowing the gods would have made for a much less satisfying ending than what actually happened.

[alnair-jpg]

Olympics AU Info dump!

First, I am blown away by how much love the series is getting, thank you all so much! I do really enjoy all the comments and reactions in the tags. Know that they all delight me and the only reason I don’t reply to everything is because there are so many! But I read them all 💕

General questions:

Can you draw the designs or concepts? Write fanfic in this AU?

Yes of course! I’d love for you to tag me if you post them so I can see

Do they all know each other?

At first, I would say no- with the exception of Nico and Will (they’re developing a whole backstory in my head that I cannot and will not stop.). But they all meet in the Olympic Village after the opening ceremonies and quickly become friends. They all try their best to attend each other’s events. (Someone please tell me how Percabeth becomes a thing. Please. 🙏 )

Why didn’t Percy win gold?

Percy was an Olympic medalist in swimming before moving to diving. After competing in several swimming events and feeling like they were all just small variations of the same thing, he wanted more of a challenge. He chose diving to stay rooted in to the water, but to add a new dimension to his bodily awareness and control.

What’s Annabeth and Luke’s rivalry?

They most definitely trained together, and it was Luke’s skill that motivated Annabeth to aim for the Olympics. But, she wanted to compete for her home country, Greece, which Luke thought was just a shortcut since there was a clearer path to an Olympic team in a smaller country. Annabeth is constantly trying to prove to him that she would have made it to the top of the sport either way.

Also, apologies to the IRL fencers out there for the inconsistency. I know fencing is a gendered sport, and Annabeth’s gear/style are inconsistent, please forgive the oversight ☺️🫶

Volleyball?

The whole Hunters of Artemis are a volleyball team (that apparently has no country 😅). Thalia ends up the captain. When Reyna moves on from tennis they welcome her with open arms.

Rejected sports

Will as a runner. Canonically, he’s super fast, but just having him as a sprinter didn’t fit with his personality.

Will as a pole vaulter. Specifically the guy that lost because he was ‘blessed a little too much’ and knocked down the bar. I will not explain further.

Will as a gymnast. He was this || close to being a gymnast essentially modeled after Steven Nedoroscik, I had the sketch and everything. (I shared it here!) But when an anyonomous ask clued me into the sick medical team uniforms it all fell into place from there. (Thank you no-longer-anon @helyeahmangocheese !)

Percy in anything equestrian related. I see him not having the patience for all the formality of it all, but he definitely crashes Hazel’s shows and chats up all the competition (the horses.)

Annabeth on a sailing team. Also, related to that, Reyna on a sailing team. It was a fun idea, especially for Reyna and her history with pirates but ultimately it was really hard to capture in a few illustrations.

Nico in several winter sports. For consistency mostly. He could fit for a lot of winter sports - ice skating and snowboarding are my personal favorites.

Leo as a shooter. He would most definitely build his own gear and make tweaks to his weapon. Which would get him immediately disqualified.

Jason in discus. Jason as a basketball player. Golf is just… fitting. 😂

Other Characters I’ve been thinking about

(that may have art in the works… and may not actually be athletes!)

Clarisse

Meg

Grover

Rachel

Lester / Apollo

Mr. D

Chiron

[pigcowboys]

secret santa !

pairing: percy jackson x female!reader

summary: camp half-blood decides to do secret santa this year.

warning(s): pre-established relationship and kissing but, none, mostly!

a/n: merry (late) christmas to everyone who celebrates it!! this was supposed to be out on christmas day but.. uh yeah. this is slightly self-indulgent.

“you’re doing it right?” you asked, adjusting your position on your bunk bed as you tried your best to scrub out the nasty maroon stain you’d spilled onto the fabric.

it was almost christmas day and with that important birthday coming up, it meant only one thing for you, gift shopping. not that you hated it — honestly. it was just the idea of somehow disappointing your friends.

the stakes were higher this year considering the fact chiron had brought up the idea of doing a secret santa with the rest of the camp. everyone voted in agreement the idea — well, except for clovis but, to be fair he wasn’t conscious when the announcement was made.

soon after it was set in stone that the camp would be hosting its very first secret santa and then following that, everyone was assigned a partner.

piper got annabeth, annabeth got leo, leo got piper and somehow travis stoll had gotten clarisse. that last part was going to be interesting. you even got someone as well, too. not that it made you anxious at all, you loved gifting people presents — great at it, dare you say.

well, it was a bit easier to gift people presents when you didn’t have to worry about whether or not your gift would somehow make the person hate you and question why they even started dating you in the first place.

so, it was safe to say you weren’t especially overjoyed when you got percy as your secret santa. your mind went blank as you shifted to the side, allowing percy to slide past you to reach for his paper with his santa.

you eyed him curiously as he stared at the words on the paper indifferently before a smile flashed onto his face. he turned the paper so your eyes had access to it clearly, completely missing the moment when your heart dropped.

"we got each other," percy said, tucking the paper into his pocket. "that's lucky, right?" you merely laughed nervously in response.

"yeah, totally." not lucky, not lucky at all.

“everyone is,” annabeth started “why? are you changing your mind?” annabeth asked, causing you to frown slightly.

“well, no..i think.” you trailed off, eyebrows furrowing as you flung your sponge to the side. gods, you seriously hoped this would wash out after a while.

“i wouldn’t wanna spoil the fun.”

“plus, you’re curious about what your secret santa might’ve gotten you.” annabeth chimed in.

“that too.” you replied. "any idea what percy might have in mind?"

annabeth merely hummed in response leaving you even more conflicted than before. what if he gets you an amazing gift and all you get him is some crap that he'll say he loves, a fake smile on his face before dumping it somewhere in his cabin 'till the next secret santa.

you didn't want to be that girlfriend. you actively rebuke any allegations that may have even brought that idea up.

“i am so screwed.” you sobbed out, pressing your fingers against your face as you sighed dramatically.

“you have time, use it.” annabeth reminded you. she was right, it was only 2 days till christmas day and even then, secret santa wasn’t going to happen till later into the evening.

“just don’t use too much, shopping places are never open for late minute gifts.”

“right, okay..” you murmured out. "i have time."

those 2 days came and went sooner than you expected it to and by christmas day morning, you were frantically wrapping up percy’s gift, thoughts racing as you tried to not think about whether or not the gift would be cool enough for him.

he’s be happy with anything you got him, you knew that. didn’t make ease your mind any less, though. you stumbled out of your cabin as you rushed towards the decorated tree that was out near the forest, courtesy of the demeter kids.

to be honest, even if you liked christmas or disliked it, everyone could appreciate the effort put into decorating the tree. especially with all the presents stacked under - it added to the scene. you bent down, carefully placing it underneath the tree, not too close so that it would obviously stick out, but not too far that people would forget it was there.

this was a big camp, after all.

you'd made your way over the mess hall, scanning over it for any signs of percy before taking a plate and shoving food onto it. you spared a part for your godly parent and then made your way toward the table to sit with everyone else.

even with percy missing, the mess hall was still lively - believe it or not. everyone seemed to be talking lively about their gifts and what they were expecting, something that didn't ease your anxieties about your own gift.

it didn't help at all when your eyes finally settled on percy's own across the room, a small smile pulling on his face as he tended to his plate. your mind had been so zeroed in on worrying you hadn't even clued in on the fact he was walking over to you, taking a seat beside you.

"thanks for saving me a seat." you fought back a smile at the sound of his tired voice. he must've been knocked out sometime after sword practice. you hummed in response, fiddling with your food as your mind raced.

your eyes drifted towards percy as you watched him silently from the corner of your eyes. between the bed hair and the disheveled state of his clothes, it was safe to say that he had just woken up. despite the anxieties that swirled in your mind and the ansty fidgeting of your legs, you couldn't deny that percy was gorgeous.

though, it just brought your mind back to your dilemma. secret santa would happen right after dinner and then would be campfire time. how could you sit and sing songs at the campfire knowing percy had hated your gift?

"you're being stranger than usual, y'know."

"hm?" you turned to look at percy who gave you a quizzical look. "i'm acting completely normal."

"you've barely touched your food."

you stared down at your plate, it looked like a ghost had gently floated over it - devoid of human ingestion.

"i'm not hungry." you lied, slapping yourself mentally when your stomach growled deeply.

"mhm.." percy nodded along, trying to suppress the smile on his face. "what's wrong?" he asked, pushing his plate aside as he turned his whole body to face you, something that didn't go unnoticed by you as you locked eyes with him.

"just..thinking."

"about?"

you narrowed your eyes at him, ignoring the tingling in your chest as you watched him carefully. you really hoped he hadn't caught onto the fact you were just checking him out at this point, turning your face away in embarrassment as you rested your head on your elbows,

"stuff."

"what kind of stuff?"

"important stuff."

"like what?"

"percy, will you leave me alone!" a laugh, followed by his hand brushing against your back soothingly. you titled your head up to look at him as your head rested on your elbows.

"sorry, sorry." he smiled. "just hang in there, okay?" was all he whispered in your ear before moving back to press a sloppy kiss to your head that made your face scrunch in disgust.

"gross...you're so disgusting, percy.." you murmur, wiping the wet blotch of spit that was left on your forehead from the kiss.

"i love you too."

"what'd you think you got?" piper asked, shifting in her seat slightly as she waited for annabeth to respond.

"you're asking me like you don't know what i got." annabeth replied with a small smile.

"can't hurt to imagine."

you zoned out the rest of the conversation as you suppressed the urge to scream out of frustration. the camp chatted lively around you, cueing you in on the fact that you'd been cuddled up beside percy without once offering a word to him.

not that he minded, he was aware you wanted to be with your thoughts and he respected it. just..didn't feel very..couple appropriate. it felt like you'd been talking to yourself way more than the guy who was supposed to be your boyfriend.

"quiet down," chiron's voice rang through all the chatter, reducing the crowd to silence. he'd somehow managed to shimmy matching ugly christmas sweaters onto him and mr. d respectively. the image alone made you want to pull out your phone and snap a picture.

though, you decided against it, taking notice of the death glares mr.d had sent your way.

chiron announced that secret santa would be happening in a bit, receiving a series of cheers from some campers in the crowd. you shifted slightly in percy's hold, prompting him to look at you - a curious look on his face.

"you okay?"

"yeah, it's just kind of cold, i guess."

percy hummed in response before pulling you into him so you were resting against his chest. he rested his chin on your head with a small smile.

“is this better?” he whispered, to which you merely hummed in response, snuggling yourself against him as you tried to get comfortable. now, you weren’t a fan of those overly lovely couples that couldn’t keep their hands off each other in public but, you had to admit that being in percy’s arms felt more than good with the day you’ve had.

chiron continued on with his announcements, listing out the series of activities tomorrow and also stating as well that the stables would be closed on account of an “accident” that had happened in there. that part was received with a small shiver.

“that’s all i’d like to say, furthermore, I’d like to wish everyone a merry christmas.” then, chiron and mr.d stepped to the side as the festivities continued on.

it was time.

“wonder what everyone got.” you murmured, watching quietly as the rest of the campers hurried towards the tree decked out with over the top presents. percy stood up, offering you his hand as he locked them.

“me too.” percy agreed, sighing slightly. “gods, all i hope is that someone doesn’t make the mistake of gifting travis firecrackers ever again.”

“or a megaphone.”

“oh, yeah, i totally remember that year.”

“I’m sure everyone else does too..”

percy cracked a grin, one that cause your stomach to flutter slightly as you smiled back at him. he squeezed your hand before making short strides towards the rest of the campers.

you should’ve been anxious — you were anxious. though, your concerns seemed to slip away the longer you stayed with percy. the way he looked at you, it made you realize just one thing that you were sure a crummy present wasn’t going to change.

he loved you.

camp activities were fun and all but, extremely loud.

you’d figured it’d only been amplified by the fact that everyone was opening their christmas gifts and comparing what they’d gotten from each of their respective partners.

you could respect that, secret santa was no joke.

yet, you’d still managed to slip away with percy while none of the adults were watching in favorite of opening your gifts in the company of one another rather than the rest of the camp. and judging by the sputters of stars in the night sky illuminating percy and your faces, it was a good call.

“you think they’ll be mad at us for ditching everyone else?” you asked, clutching your present to your chest as you adjusted your winter coat.

“we’ll be back before they know it,” percy replied, turning to face you with a smile. he was always smiling. “and anyways, everyone else would be too busy with their presents to care.”

you sighed, taking a seat next to percy as you rested his gift in-front of you. percy turned to look at you with an anxious look on his face as he cleared his throat, holing his hand out as he waited for you to take the gift from him.

you looked back at him, nerves set ablaze as well as you exchanged your gifts, resting the wrapped present in your lap as you ogled the festive paper.

“so, truth be told — i’m pretty nervous.” percy blurred out of the blue.

“gods, i’m so glad you said that cause, i so was too.” you sighed softly, your heartbeat stilling for the first time this night as you shifted your body so you were turned towards percy. “i really wanted my gift to special and.. i feel like if it isn’t you’d like hate me or something.”

“i could never hate you.”

you paused for a moment. it’d only be a few years since you’d started to date percy, you should’ve been more used to his personality. yet, it never seemed to catch you off guard when he said these kind of sentimental things.

“even if i got you like..a smelly sock for christmas?”

percy laughed before shaking his head. you bite the inside of your mouth, frowning slightly as your face grew hot.

“sorry, i’ve been so quiet tonight.” you averted percy’s gaze, picking at the clear taping of your present. “it’s just — I don’t know, i guess i was lost in my own head.”

percy watched you quietly, leaning forward to cup your cheek as he planted a soft kiss to your lips, pulling back to stare you head on in your eyes.

“don’t apologize for something like that, it’s fine — really.” percy replied, his voice soft and careful. it made your body feel warm.

“if you want, you could open my gift first,” he added, moving his hand to rest atop yours. “that way you won’t be so nervous.”

you smiled, a genuine one. “that or your gift will be so amazing that it makes mine look horrible.” percy grinned back at you.

“let’s see.”

you nodded, turning to stare down the gift in your lap before you started to unravel it. it wasn’t a particularly big present, not that you minded at all. anything from percy was something to treasure. you moved the packaging to the side carefully as you stared at the small box that hit behind it.

it wasn’t cardboard, more like.. leather? or silk. and it was blue — percy’s trademark. you looked to him with a curious look on your face before turning back to gaze at the small box. you let your finger glide over the material once more before you opened it.

“percy..?” you mumbled out, voice barely a whisper.

inside the box contained a small ring that looked to be just about the size of your ring finger. your heart dropped at the sight of it — in a good way. it was pretty, careful patterns etched into that showed that it was finely crafted. and at the center of it, a small gem that was the same shade of your favorite color.

the cherry on top.

your eyes started to water involuntarily as your lips trembled. you were at a loss for words, how could you say anything? you stared at percy in shock as you tried to grasp the right words to say, eventually coming up with the idea to not say any words at all, leaning forward as you pulled him into a tight hug.

percy hugged back immediately, burying his head into your shoulder as he wrapped his arms around you gently.

you pulled back to look at him, tears pooling down your face as he wiped them away with his thumb, pressing a kiss to your tear stained cheeks.

“you’re..you’re totally insane for being nervous.” you managed out, laughing slightly as you choked back a sob. “how did you get the money to pay for this?”

“i saved up!” he replied brightly, a proud smile flashing on his face. your shoulders trembled as a warm laugh broke through your lips, causing percy to flush slightly in your hold.

“thank you so much percy.” you whispered, moving your hand to rest on his cheek as you spoke. “you really didn’t have to get me something like this.”

“it’s all fine.” he replied calmly. “it’s you were talking about, y’know.” your face burned with embarrassment as you smiled uncontrollably, pulling percy in for a deeper kiss.

you pulled away from him, watching quietly as percy took the small blue box you’d placed on the floor beside you and opening it. he held the promise ring in his hand, gently taking your own as he slid the ring on carefully. you watched him quietly before press another kiss to his face.

then another, and another.

and before you knew it, you were peppering kisses all over his face, taking the small giggles he emitted from his lips as a sign to do even more than before. percy managed your name out though his giggles, fingers digging into your winter coat as he tried to pry you off of him.

“the — gift!” he giggled, shutting his eyes tightly as you pressed another kiss to the bridge of his nose. “what about — your gift?”

“another time.” was all you whispered as you slid the gift away, focusing in on making sure you’d filled every single spot off percy’s with the feeling of your lips.

safe to say percy hadn’t gotten to see what you’d gotten him till a little later into the night.

[cynthiav06]

The entire Fandom needs to listen to this:

Percy having a thing for Rachel was so absolutely deserved like he should have been head over heels for her. Here's why?

First meeting? Runs her through with Riptide, and where anyone would have spent the whole time yelling and arguing, Rachel quickly gauged the situation, helped Percy hide, deviated the skeletons from their orignal path all at the same time.

Percy is so awed and he should be and Rick Riordan doesn't do justice to the whole thing.

It ends on Percy saying he owes her one, almost an indication that they would meet again.

Yet Percy is terrified of running into Rachel again because he isn't sure if he could answer all her questions, most definitely because he doesn't want to drag her into the whole thing. So much so that when he sees her at Goode, he calls her "my redheaded nightmare " .

Not only has he thought of her since they last met, but he may or may not have dreamed about her, not to mention he remembered her full name after listening just once.

When he does meet her again she yet again warns him about monsters hence saving both of them.

The most important thing is Percy, who all his life has been judged blamed ridiculed, and mocked is for the very first time understood so instantaneously by Rachel. She who has been put in mortal danger every single time she meets him doesn't blame him, doesn't judge him for it, and openly takes the blame for the burning school. Even Annabeth's first response to seeing the smoke is blaming Percy despite being around him and knowing well enough for 3 years; she chooses to blame him as if she doesn't know that it's never Percy's fault. Yet Rachel, someone who he has met only twice and that too for meager few minutes, understands him and his situation so well.

All the people in the Fandom ask yourself this: Will Percy Jackson not for all that he is be absolutely head over heels and in awe of someone like that?

He can barely give her any answers at the moment, but she agrees to a death quest to help him save the world.

Throws a literal hairbrush at the Titan King and stands her ground.

Stays by him and comforts him through his depressive thoughts about dying due to the prophecy.

Falls in love with him despite knowing he has little time left.

Does her best to help him while still keeping his mind off from spiraling into dark thoughts.

Rides a literal helicopter mid-apocalypse to get to him just to warn him of the dangers?

Percy would be so absolutely over the moon in love with Rachel, were Uncle Rick not so fixated on Percabeth agenda.

The last bit is for toxic Annabeth stans:

Rachel is a genius too.

She is ambidextrous and can draw with both hands and legs; probably has exceptional memory, and her composure and quick thinking are on par with Percy himself.

I hate bringing this to looks, but I will if I get to shut up toxic fans. Annabeth is certainly beautiful, and her grey eyes are quite unique, but Rachel is the most underrated and definitely the most beautiful out of all Percy Jackson females.

The woman literally won genetic lottery with red hair and green eyes, and the only reason Uncle Rick doesn't rave about her beauty is to not make Annabeth insecure.

Also, for those overly concerned about the Oracle celibacy thing, I will address that in my next post and how it's not a problem at all. (Now posted link is here:

Expect more Pjo-centric posts along with Perachel headcanons and more.

[hollisxwrites]

heyy

i was wondering if u could write a percy jackson x reader ??

flowers in your hair

(percy jackson x child of apollo reader)

thank you for the request today guys! please keep requesting, i'll keep writing (lol)! thank you for all the love on "as long as i'm with you, hero"! again, please keep requesting, i'm loving doing these! see my introduction and who i write for here!

tv! percy jackson x child of apollo! reader (I think the reader remains gender neutral throughout the fic)!

i do not own this gif or the song!

word count: 2.7k

warnings: mr. d is kinda an asshole, kinda a mention of violence, a few swear words, some slight angst and jealousy, percy is a sweetheart, a few mentions of the l word 🤯 (love), making out, possible innuendos, idk how to write warnings.

summary: based on the lumineers song flowers in your hair. percy and the reader fall in love over time spent together in camp halfblood, but they refuse to admit it in order to keep their precious friendship, until one day the reader finally cracks. this is on the longer side! sorry!

I was twelve years old when I first came to Camp Halfblood. I was scared, cold, and completely alone, running from a horrific monster that was something out of my worst nightmares. The cold pellets of rain showered over me as I ran, until suddenly, the monster wasn’t chasing me anymore, the rain stopped, and I was in the middle of a clearing, staring directly up at a house, a big, sky-blue house. It was beautiful, to say the least. Close to the house was what looked like a... volleyball court? Down the path a little, I could make out the shape of smaller houses built with Greek architecture. I was intrigued, but also frightened. Had I come across some cult? My hair was drenched and I’m sure my shirt was see-through due to the peltering rain, but when I thought about it, the rain had stopped when I got within feet of the house. Curious (and desperate for someone's help), I walked up to the door of the big blue house and knocked on it. Minutes seemed to tick by until suddenly, the door burst open and a man, about middle age, holding a set of poker cards, came to the doorway.  

“What the hell do you want kid? Can’t you see I’m busy? You know Campers aren’t allowed out past nine P.M. Now I would suggest you get back to your cabin before I kick your...” 

Suddenly, the scary man was pushed aside by an even scarier man, a man with a horse bottom-half and a man-top half. I blinked once, twice, three times, and the man was still a horse. “Mr. D! This is not one of our campers! I told you to be kind.” The horse-man said to who I guess was Mr. D. “Come on in, young one. It looks like you may be a new camper.” 

Mr. D took me into the house and gave me a change of clothes, black pants and an almost nauseating orange colored shirt that said ‘Camp Halfblood’ on it. I was still interested in finding out what this was all about, but I was even more worried about my safety. These random scary men were taking me into their house in the middle of the woods after being chased by a scary monster.  What else could go wrong? I was gestured to sit by the fireplace, and the horse-man explained everything to me. I was in disbelief. The gods of the Greek myths are real? I was only able to access this camp because I was one and I was in danger? My mother slept with a Greek god? My life, at this very moment, was altered forever. It finally made sense why my mother hated me. I was, not only, the result of her ‘dumb teenager decisions’, but I also was the result of her being with a god?  

The horse-man, who I found out was named Chiron, after explaining everything to me, took me to one of the cabins I had noticed earlier, and he told me it was Herme’s cabin, which is where I would stay until my godly parent claimed me.  

When I entered the cabin, most of the kids were asleep, because it was gods know what time of night, except two boys, one with dark curly hair and a scar running down is face who I assumed to be at least sixteen, and one with the prettiest blonde curls and green eyes that I have ever seen who seemed to be about my age. The boys were sitting on a window seat looking out to another large, Greek looking structure, discussing something that seemed to trouble the younger boy. Chiron called the two boys over, and they came to meet me. Chiron introduced the older boy as Luke Castellan, Herme’s cabin counselor, and the younger as Percy Jackson, another new camper who has only been here for a day. Percy and Luke shook my hand, and Chiron left them to help me navigate the cabin and find somewhere to sleep.  

“Nice to meet you, {reader}. It’s not every day we get a new camper, but when we do, I am always excited to meet them!” Luke Castellan said. He scared me a little, with his scar, and his height. His overall demeanor was slightly frightening, but I liked him all the same. He seemed to be welcoming and kind enough.  

I smiled at him, trying not to catch the eye of Percy, who seemed to be looking at me a lot. “Nice to meet you too.” I said in a monotone voice. I didn’t realize how tired I was until this moment. “I’m sorry, I’m so tired, getting chased down by a monster and finding out I’m some god hybrid thing that sends demons out to get me all within two hours. Where am I supposed to sleep?” 

Percy giggled. “I know how you feel. I watched my mom get killed by the minotaur last night, and here I am, not able to sleep cause of the nightmares. I should get some sleep too.” 

Luke glanced around the cabin. “I’m not sure where you’re going to sleep. All the cots are occupied, unless you want to sleep on the beanbag chairs over there.” He pointed to the pile of frumpy beanbag chairs in the corner of the cabin.  

“No, no. They can take my bed. I doubt I’m going to sleep anyways, y’know, nightmares and all.” Percy chimed in, probably noticing my disparity to sleeping on an uncomfortable looking beanbag chair.  

I shook my head. “No way. You were here before me. It’s okay, I can take the beanbags, you take your space. I hope my dad claims me before too long, so I can take a couple nights.”  

“I’m not letting you; you look too tired.” Percy said, in a voice that sounded almost threatening. “We can switch out if we’re both here for a while. I mean...if you want to.”  

I smiled at the boy. He seemed kinder than anyone else I knew, even though that wasn’t saying much. I didn’t know many people. I did take Percy’s bed that night, and that developed our friendship that would eventually become the most invaluable thing in my life. I sat with Percy at every meal, he showed me around the camp to the best of his ability, and we decided to train together, as we were both new outcasts to the camp. Even after he was chosen to go to the Poseidon cabin through the game capture the flag, and I was chosen by father to go to the Apollo cabin, our bond only grew closer, and we still managed to find time in our busy schedules to spend time with each other. 

One day, several months later, in these rare moments we were both free, I was lying on the ground in the strawberry fields that became my favorite part of the camp with Percy. We had a long day of training and decided to bask in the warmth of the camp, savoring the warm late summer days. I was picking dandelions out of the strawberries and weaving them together the way I used to do with my older sister. I was slowly making a crown out the buds, and it was turning out quite beautiful. It kept my easily distracted mind focused on what Percy was saying. He was going off on some tangent about Grover and his disloyalty to the camp and to Mr. D, something that Percy found alarming, as he was worried about his best friend’s safety.  

“I’m just glad I have you, {reader}. You really have been a good...friend all these months at camp.” Percy said, grinning at me through the strawberry bushes.  

My eyes twinkled when mine met his, and I placed the now completed dandelion crown in his blond curls that drew me to him the moment we met. “I’m glad I have you too, Perc. You made me feel a little less crazy.” 

He smiled at me, the dandelion crown slipping down his face. “You’ll always be in my heart.” He blushed a little, as we are not usually this compassionate for each other. 

“So will you!” I said, moving to put the flower crown back on the crown of his head. My fingers tingled under the small touch to his face, but I didn’t realize that it was love, at the time, at least I didn’t realize it was romantic love. That’s something I know too well now.  

... 

Five years later, Percy and I have not grown farther apart with age, we’ve grown closer. He saved the world, and I was always by his side through everything. He only grew more beautiful with age, too, his hair growing a little longer, eyes getting a little darker, scars from battles littered his arms, legs, and chest. He was always attractive to me, but now, it was even more so. He had also grown more physically affectionate towards me, brushing my hands with his, leaning on my shoulder during campfires, and even going as far to giving me kisses on the cheek when I saw him first thing in the morning and late at night when we left for the day. Sometimes, he snuck into my cabin or I into his if we had nightmares just so we could be with each other. His smell of sea salt and something else I couldn’t quite name (probably the blue candy that he ate daily), and it always comforted me during hard nights.  

All of this to say, though, we were just BFFs. Best platonic bros. Nothing more, nothing less. I loved him, I had realized over the years, loved him a little too much it was unbearable sometimes, but he was rumored to be with other people all the time, even though I knew he wasn’t. He would tell me, right? Right? He spent pretty much every waking minute with me and every minute asleep most of the time, too, so I would know. That doesn’t mean I wasn’t jealous of every person he came across. I loved him, and he was my sea boy, and I was his sunshine.  

That’s why, when we found ourselves in a very similar predicament to what we did all those years ago, during our first couple months at camp, I made a very risky move. 

I was sitting, face angled up to the sunlight, weaving a dandelion crown in my trembling hands. Percy had grown, so the flower crowns I made him now were twice the size of the ones I made him all those years ago. I delicately made a pattern with the dandelions again, and I looked up at Percy from time to time to nod or make a comment on whatever he had to say, but it was mostly silent, him humming and picking at the ground below us, and me, weaving my crown. 

Percy paused his picking at the ground and looked at me. I could feel his gaze on my face, and it made my cheeks heat up. I prayed to the gods that he thought it was just from the sun. “Do you remember when we did this, what, five years ago now? I would say we’ve grown a little, and we know more than we did then.”  

“What do you know now that you didn’t then?” I said, eyes not leaving the project in my hands.  

I assumed he shrugged. “I don’t know, I guess I know more about the gods, about the world, about you.” 

Laughing, I finally tore my eyes away from the completed crown and I moved to place it on Percy’s head, settling it gently in his curls, careful not to mess up my handiwork. I let my fingers linger longer on his face than I did last time. “You know more about me, sea boy?” I asked him teasingly, finally meeting his eye that hasn’t left my face this entire time. 

“I guess I do, I mean, I feel like I do. I feel like I’ve barely spent a minute away from you since that day.” He leaned into my hand that was placing feather-like touches on his face. “I mean, I know that your favorite color is yellow, you love the same music I do, and you hate when I call you sunshine.” 

“You do know me, don’t you, Perc?” My hands dropped away from his face, and he pouted at the loss of contact even though our legs were centimeters from touching. I could feel electricity buzzing on my skin where our limbs were about to meet. That was something I always felt when I was close to him.  I always assumed, back then, that his love language was physical touch, and so he was just being a good friend by how affectionate he was to me. How delusional I was. 

“I sure do.” He flipped his body so that he was no longer facing me, instead he laid himself down on my lap. My hands instinctively went to his pretty hair, making sure to be mindful of his crown. “Y’know, I think I love you, {reader}.” 

My heart, in this moment skipped a beat, but then shattered at the same time. He loved me, but in a friendly way. “You don’t mean that, Perc. At least, you don’t mean that the way I want you to.” 

His head shot up from my lap, nearly slinging his flower crown from his head, and he turned back to face me at an alarmingly quick rate. “What do you mean, the way you want me to?” His hands met mine that were laying in my lap. He interlaced our fingers, and my entire body felt alive. 

I blushed and looked back up to the boy I have loved since we were pre-teens. “I love you, Perc, but I love you, like in a romantic way. I hope it’s not too late, cause you’re so damn attractive. You have always been to me, always will be. I think I’ve just been scared. I value you so much as a friend that I didn’t want to lose you.” I refused to look up from our intertwined hands, embarrassed and saddened by my confession. I was half expecting Percy to scoff and walk away, kicking pebbles up at me.  

Instead, he unclasped our hands and pulled my face up to look at him, his eyes shining in a way that I’ve never seen them shine before, his face glowing with a humongous grin. “I never thought you’d say that. You know that I have loved you all this time, too?”  

My heart skipped several beats this time. I’m not kidding; I was about to go into cardiac arrest. “Are you kidding? You’re pranking me right now.” I hid my burning face on his shoulder.  

His laugh vibrated underneath me, making me giggle, too. “I guess we’re both idiots.” 

I hesitantly pulled my face off his shoulder and asked him the scariest question I have ever asked someone. “Can I kiss you?” 

Our faces were inches apart when he whispered, “I thought you’d never ask.” The kiss was everything I could have ever asked for. At first it was gentle and loving, our noses bumping into each other, until eventually my hands found his hair and his found my waist. It was warm, and passionate, and everything I could’ve dreamt of. 

He slowly pulled away from me, both of us panting, foreheads touching. “That was...perfect.” 

I smiled. “Just like you, sea boy.” 

His face met my neck now, and he pressed warm kisses to my exposed skin, his hair tickling my jawline. I squirmed under him, trying to suppress a groan. He lifted his head up, his eyes met mine. I thought he never had looked better. The flower crown I made him was lopsided now, diagonal across his head, his lips were red and bitten, his face was perfectly flushed, and his pupils were blown out. “How did I get so lucky?” He said to me. 

“I am asking myself the same damn thing.” I smiled, keeping eye contact with him. He connected our lips once again, and that’s when I knew I was a goner. I had been all those years ago, but we have grown a lot since then. Percy being in my eyes and in my heart all the time harbored the feeling that I have been carrying, and now I get to express. 

Years from now, I hope he still gets to be in my heart, and I in his. 

[vagabond-umlaut]

it's easy to ferry souls, not carry them

deep down in the realm of the netherworlds, there exists a rower who transports deceased souls from the land of living to the land of dead-

and occasionally lends an ear and a hand, in the event of yet another collision between their weary queen and her just as cheery suitor...

[uraume deserves a raise.]

▸gojo satoru x fem!reader; the tale of kore!gojo & hades!reader w a guest appearance by charon!uraume; uraume is a very nice parental figure to you [ooc!uraume but ehh]; the reader is honestly so sweet and hot-tempered...; the cutest doggy cerberus too is there!!!!; gojo satoru must be his own warning...; uraume does not like gojo [no parent [blood-related or not] actually wld]; fire hazards; 2k wc

▸ i've nvr read percy jackson and wtv i wrote here is based on my shaky knowledge of greek myths and stuff 😁😁 anyways, this header's from pinterest, these dividers are by @benkeibear and the characters used ain't mine. pls do not plagiarize, translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

▸ belongs to series 'wreaths of asphodel' – same universe as the work 'hey, where is the pomegranate tree?' — but you can treat this as a stand-alone fic if you wanna!

"why is kore so set on marrying me, uraume?"

it isn't the ask itself which causes the rower to nearly lose grip of their oar– but the way it is spoken: soft, solemn and faintly tense. they look away from the endless expanse of the styx before, to find you staring at your reflection in the inky waters, features unnaturally crumpled.

uraume holds back a frown. "has her majesty considered asking the god the same?"

"i have asked him," you mumble, "but i did not receive any conclusive answer in return. the imp was being too vague– must be a trait learnt from those shifty nymphs always sticking to his side."

if your faithful follower detects anything except dislike in your words, they make no mention of it. merely humming as they continue to row the boat, "and may this servant know the question her majesty asked the god?"

"two," you mumble even more clumsily now; they take a beat to grasp it, too concerned by the way you drape yourself over the edge, nearly falling into the water as you say, "i asked him two questions— one, if he loves me; two, if he wants to have children should we get married."

shock must not be uraume's first reaction to these queries, yet it is— and for a moment, it isn't you sitting there anymore.

instead, it is a little girl, no older than seven or eight years, cherubic face fixed in a look of deep concentration and fascination while the rower narrates to her stories from times millennia ago–

only for the child to morph into a young lady– no, goddess– the very next beat... slouched under a regal cloak too heavy for her shoulders, under a royal crown too large for her head... that sweet innocence of childhood nothing but traces now, having been withered by the foul, dirty politics of those damned deities high up on that mountain—

"what answers did the olympian offer her majesty?"

"he said he would love me and sire my children if that is what i want— i asked if he wished anything out of our union— he said all he wanted is to be my husband–"

something between a frustrated sigh and an exhausted scoff erupts from you, becoming an opaque fog the moment it hits the frigid air of the underworld. uraume plucks the oar out the water to come sit next to you, letting the boat be driven by magic.

"you're worried," they state, forgoing all formalities in favour of giving you some much-needed comfort. you never much cared for stations anyways, quite unlike your elder brother, the former king.

"an unfamiliar friend poses more risk than a familiar enemy, uraume," you mutter, resting your head on their shoulder, "why do you think kore wishes to marry me so much, if not out of love or the prospect of the powerful offsprings we might beget?"

"marriage is not solely for love or for procreation," the rower starts to explain, mildly amused before it grows into sympathy at your baffled expression.

ah, they muse fondly, not unlike a parent watching their child witness the world seemingly the first time ever since they learnt to walk, you who presides over something as profound as death yet knows not of the trivialities of life...

"it can also be for many other reasons like–"

the remainder of the words skitter away from uraume— cerberus is playing with gojo.

the fierce guard of the netherworlds, the three-headed hound, loyal and dutiful to a fault: hades' dearest canine companion is frolicking with the god of life in a green meadow, that most certainly was not there so close to the stygian marsh, when they last—

"gojo is laughing," your remark draws them away from their musings, only to find a changed shadow over your countenance— pensive yet not thinking at all; almost as if you too are floating in the stale air of your kingdom akin the soft flower petals...

another ring of raucous laughter pierces the silence, mingled with a delighted series of barks— cerberus is busy licking gojo's face now, the olympian reduced to a puddle of giggles as he scratches behind the dog's ears.

his happiness so clear in the stretch of his grin and the crinkle of his eyes, very much the jarring contrast to the last time—

oh. oh, oh, oh–

"escape," the word leaves uraume in a sudden moment of realisation, as quiet as a breath but loud enough for you to whip your head back to face them, confusion engraved into your scowl. "escape?? what is that supposed to mean, eh?"

the rower feels their lips lift into an infrequent smile. "the god of life wishes to marry you to escape— from his mother, or from his many suitors, or perhaps from mount olympus itself."

"wha– how– hah," you breathe out a disbelieving little huff, "that is simply ridiculous. have you even heard yourself? that is ridiculous."

used to such resistance from yourself, even more from your brother, they move to state their points, only to beaten by you as you persist to speak.

"no one in their right mind will decide to come live in the underworld, no matter how overbearing their mother or insistent their suitors are. have you seen this place? it's too, too unlike the lushness of the earth or the grandeur of the heavens he has experienced. and–" you add, a harsh laugh accompanying it. "gojo satoru is a god. a fish might leave the water— but a god never steps a voluntary foot down that horrible mountain. never."

"but the olympian never truly lived on mount olympus," uraume says once they're sure you've completed your tirade, "and you are a goddess as well. why do you speak so ill of the heavens then?"

"why?" you echo the word. they nod, hoping you take the bait they've intended for you. you do.

"why, because that place is nothing but a shining apple with a rotten core!! everything is polished marble and glittering gold there. people constantly wave at each other, lavishing smiles and praises like there is no tomorrow. everything is so warm and bright— what a bunch of lies and liars!"

familiar fire burns in your aura, the immense heat making the waters erupt into boiling— uraume uses their powers to cool the river down, lest anything disturbs you.

you're too far gone in your rage to be shaken, however, continuing:

"but it never can hide the grime and dirt accrued beneath such shine and sheen. nor the vicious minds and crooked hearts of those deities up above– what lame excuses of gods and goddesses, hah. and you might think me to prefer the light and warmth up there— you will be sorely wrong, my dear uraume!! i much prefer the genuine darkness and frigidity of my beloved kingdom to the faux comfort of the awful mount olympus—"

"is there no possibility the god of life too despises mount olympus for these same reasons, milady?"

you open your mouth and close it, then open it again to let out a very aggrieved whine– momentarily transporting uraume to your younger days. the rower merely chuckles when you punch their arm lightly.

"you're the worst, uraume," you cry, getting up and moving to sit on the other end of the boat. the rower too rises but only to resume rowing the boat by the oar.

"you never spoke this way when sukuna was the ruler— only because his baby sister is the ruler now, and you think she is very stupid—"

"as much as i respect and revere lord sukuna, he wasn't one to listen to anyone else," uraume interrupts gently, "you do, though– which is why i spent so much time telling you this. i hope you did not mind."

"hey, no," you immediately wave away their concern with a wide grin, eliciting a smaller one from the latter, "i could never..."

another peal of laughter and barks rings through the otherwise-quiet. you abruptly trail off, the same conflicting expression from before on your face yet again. though not without a spark in your eyes, uraume notes, almost as if you're slowly learning how to solve the puzzle who is repeatedly offering himself to you.

uraume keeps the silence you initiate, choosing to row the boat while you keep staring at the assortment of hues near the stygian marsh...

until you call their name and declare, an odd firmness in your smile, "well then, it is decided. i shall allow gojo to stay here for as long as the god so wishes to, escaping whatever or whoever he is escaping. and i shall protect him from the latter, should it ever come for him."

a beat. your smile falls into something graver. "would it be better if i swore by the dread water of styx, uraume?"

"uh, um," the rower finds themselves at a loss of words, the first time in seemingly forever, and they have been around since titanomachy– but before they can recover themselves enough to formulate a proper reply, a giggly voice joins in—

"well, if my rose does that, i would consider myself the most blessed amongst all mortals and immortals!"

— and the waters surrounding the boat shoot upwards in a scathing geyser-like jet and steam— the ferocious queen of the netherworlds visibly torn between remorse and terror, as they offer uraume a stiff nod and gojo a horrified look, before vanishing in a wisp of fog.

the boiling waters of the river styx calm down only after a twenty-minute-long struggle by uraume, joined at the very end by gojo.

the latter looks positively delighted, when the former collapses to the bottom of the boat, exhausted beyond belief. "hey, charon. was that a result of your queen getting flustered by me, huh?"

yes, it was. it very much was, the sentences nearly slip past the tired rower's crumbling defences... until it hits them– who they serve, and who they don't.

uraume decides to throw back a glare and a lie. "her majesty was not flustered, lord kore. she was enraged at how you invaded the privacy of her weekly boat ride, intended to make her relax."

"oh, puh-lease," the god makes a face. the rower is certain he would have been punished in the pits of tartarus for all eternity, then some more were he to pursue you this way during your brother's reign, let alone disrespect you thus.

ignorant and insolent, he continues, "in few days time, i'll be allowed into the privacy of her living quarters; what is the privacy of her boat th—"

"you're lucky you did not make such outrageous remarks in front of the queen," uraume cuts him off, none too kindly nor gently, "if you did, her majesty would have certainly burnt you along with the boat to a crisp–"

"i know," comes the defeated reply within the instant. and while gojo is still not in uraume's good graces, the latter decides to notch him a level higher, considering the god of life accepts their queen's powers.

not many do.

he strikes a pathetically pitiful figure, uraume reckons, seeing him sit then slouch on the bench. "was she serious when she said she would protect me?"

your loyal subject nods, certain and solemn. "yes, she was. the queen is never careless when it comes to making promises."

"oh, that's reassuring," gojo says quietly— only to recline even further in the very next beat– an anguished, grating wail tearing from him to the stifling silence looming near the stygian marsh. uraume wonders if it is worth it to steer the boat towards acheron... then push him into its waters of woe...

they decide against it on catching the desperation worn by the god.

for all it is, it might nothing more than a ploy. yet something tugs at their mind to pause and listen when gojo howls, "why does my rose always scurry away after tilting my world on its axis? why does your queen always torment me like this, charon?"

uraume stares pensively at their face in the sacred waters of styx for a while. then heaves a mighty sigh.

certain, this exchange between the goddess of the dead and the god of life will impact not only your and gojo's respective worlds— but the general world and everyone else in it, as well.

did you know, in the actual greek myths, persephone was never called so before her marriage to hades? she got it only after, w the name meaning "bringer of death". her initial name was kore, referring to her being a maiden & the spring goddess.

the river styx was called the "dread river of oath" by homer– in both the iliad and the odyssey [greek epic poems], swearing by its waters is the "greatest and most dread oath for the blessed gods" -> this shows how serious the reader is towards ensuring gojo's safety and freedom, and how deeply this affects gojo as well [source: wiki 😇]

also: the reader is totally ready to jump into the water to swim away when she realises gojo was listening in on her conversations- but then she remembers she can js vanish away and so she does js tht— the queen of the underworld, and of escaping, hehe

also also: the reader is slightly jealous when she is talking of the shifty nymphs always sticking to gojo's side. [uraume identifies it; you think it is js your usual dislike to such frivolous things and ppl as flowers and nymphs etc.] [hades is emo imho 😊]

▸ masterlist

[waltwhitmansbeard]

Hello! may I request any prompt of your choosing from the hurt/comfort list if I specifically ask for tlovm vaxleth? thank you!

10. "Don't worry about anything now."

It's cold in Whitestone, especially at night, but Keyleth doesn't feel it. Her body is warm, hot even, pressed back against Vax like this. His arm is draped over her, his chin hooked over her shoulder. Her naked shoulder. Because she's naked. They both are. Because they had sex.

Vax's breathing is slow and even, and Keyleth is working overtime to keep hers the same way. It's not that she's freaking out—she's not. Not really. Except her body is sore, pleasantly so, dully tingling in the memory of his hands on her, in her—oh, and while that was happening, the people of Whitestone were burying their dead. And Thordak was still burning Emon. And Raishan was probably plotting her inevitable betrayal. And Percy was lying in a tomb, surrounded by generations of deceased de Rolos. But oh gods, the things Vax's tongue can do.

She's a bad person. That has to be it. She gets together with Vax in their dead friend's home? While Vex is in mourning? Who does that? Sure, she was waiting for Vax to pull his head out of his ass long before Percy died, but still, she could have waited, should have waited, found a better moment, done everything differently—

"You're thinking so loud." Vax's voice is a sleepy rumble in her ear as his arm tightens around her.

She laughs nervously. "Sorry. Just, um. A lot to think about."

His nose trails lazily up the back of her neck. "Care to share?"

Now she's in a pickle. She can't tell him what she was really thinking about, because then he'll think she regrets sleeping with him, which she doesn't—at least, not like that. And she's always been so bad at lying. And if she says she's thinking about Percy, will he think she wishes he were here instead? Because wow, no. She has to lie. But say what—

"Kiki, seriously. If you think any louder you're going to wake up the whole castle."

"Was this a mistake?" She feels his body stiffen, and his arm starts to retract. Fully panicking now, she grabs his hand, uses it to tug herself around so she's on her back, where she can see his face. It's shell-shocked, hurt. "That is not what I meant. I don't—I don't regret this. I don't regret you. I promise, Vax."

His face softens a bit, but he's still regarding her skeptically. "I'm really struggling to find another interpretation here, Kiki."

"No, I know, I just meant—" She throws her forearm over her eyes so she doesn't have to look at him. "Percy is dead and Vex is heartbroken and Whitestone is in ruins again and we have to fight Thordak and Raishan is such a bitch and gods I am so behind on my Aramenté and really what right do I have to be happy with you when everything is terrible—"

He shuts her up by kissing her. His hand pulls her face closer to his, and her arm falls away from her eyes as she melts against his lips. For a moment, everything is quiet.

"Keyleth," he murmurs against her mouth. "You are beautiful and powerful and wise and so very, very silly."

"I'm not—"

"You are. There is no 'deserving' happiness. There is just...finding it. With our friends. With our families." His thumb traces little circles where his hand cups her jaw. "Here, in this bed, with you. You know, a very wise woman once pointed out to me how foolish it was to forgo current happiness for fear of future pain." He smirks at her. "I'd hate to see her forgo current happiness because she's guilty about the suffering of others."

Keyleth chews her lip. "But there are things we could be doing. People we could be helping."

"We can't help anyone if we're too exhausted to stand. C'mere." He gently spins her around again so that he's spooning her, her hand cupped in his, and yeah, the feeling of him behind her, warm and solid, does make the brain chatter quiet a bit. "Don't worry about anything now. We have so much time to worry, I promise you. All of the things you're concerned about will be there in the morning, and so will I." He kisses the nape of her neck. "I don't know what the future holds, but I can't imagine thinking about that when I have my favorite person in the world in my arms."

He squeezes her close, and Keyleth breathes in the arm, woodsy scent of him. Alright. Maybe he's right. Maybe the horrors will still be waiting come daylight. Maybe they can share this night, and the happiness it has brought them. She closes her eyes, and soon, she is dreaming of hundreds more nights, just like this.

[whatami365]

Why did you hide it? (Poly! Alpha Male Rick Riordan Characters x Omega Male Reader, Part 1)

Percy and Jason: It had only been a month since the giant war had passed. Already there was another war on the horizon but several years in the future. Rachel, a female omega and the oracle of delphi, had wandered out of her cave with her grey and glazed and walked up where M/n was talking with his alpha younger brother, Nico, and several others including two alphas, Percy and Jason, who were the sons of Poseidon and Jupiter respectively.

She looked right at M/n with her unseeing eyes. "A evil most ancient awakens. It's name lost to the sands of time. Only the children born from womb of a omega child of death and seeds of children of the Roman sky and the Greek sea can defeat it.", she said in a eerie tone. Then she collapsed.

Everyone rushed to get Rachel to the infirmary before. Then started discussing what the prophecy could mean while Nico, Will, and M/n stayed silent. They knew what at least part of it meant. M/n was the omega child any death god had ever produced. So obviously it was M/n who was meant to give birth. However the only people who know M/n to be an omega were Nico, Will, and M/n.

After someone started pointing fingers at Nico though. Saying he was the one who was secretly an omega due to small stature. They started telling him it was okay to be an omega and could tell them.

M/n buried his head in his hands. "It's me, okay. It's me. Not Nico. I'm not an alpha. I'm an omega. Will and Nico have been helping me hide it.", he said.

All around him was silence. He looked up to see everyone starring at him but Will and Nico who were glaring at the others. Percy was the first to speak. "Why would you hide it? There's nothing wrong with being an omega.", says the son of the sea god.

"Maybe not now a days but I was born in the 1920s when omegas were still seen es property or whores, or abominations if they were males like me. If I had presented in the 20s or 30s my nicest fate would have been death and lots of people still have that view on omegas even today. I was just trying to protect myself because you never know what is going through someone's mind.", says M/n.

The room lapses into silence. Finally Annabeth, an alpha daughter of Athena speaks. "I think I know what the prophecy means. M/n is meant to give birth to Percy and Jason's children. Who will then defeat an ancient evil.", she says.

Leo and Jason: It had only been a three days since the giant war had passed. Already there was another war on the horizon but several years in the future. Rachel, a female omega and the oracle of delphi, had wandered out of her cave with her grey and glazed and walked up where M/n, the secret omega son of poseidon, was talking with his alpha half brother, Percy, and some of his friends, Jason and Leo, who were also alphas and the sons of Jupiter and Hephaestus respectively. She looked right at M/n and spoke in a eerie tone.

"An ancient evil has awoken. So old it's lost its name to the sands of time. Only the children born form the womb of the omega child of water and seeds of the alpha children of greek Fire and roman sky may stop it. Hurry. Hurry. It awakens.", she says and then she passes out.

Everyone rushes to get Rachel to the infirmary. When she's taken care of everyone starts trying to figure out who the omega child of water is except for M/n, who is slowly sinking in his seat, and Percy, was the only person who knew M/n was a omega. When it became clear his little brother would not say he was the omega Percy sighed. "It's M/n. He's the omega child of water. I've been helping him hide the fact he is an omega.", says Percy.

"Dude, why you gotta out me?", says M/n. "It's an emergency, little bro. They needed to know.", says Percy.

"Why would you hide that, M/n? There is nothing wrong with being an omega.", says Jason.

"Says the alpha. There omegas who everyday get rapped, beaten, or even kill just because they are omegas. Sure some lead happy and peaceful lives but a lot do not. My own omega mother isn't. She's was forcefully mated off to a piece of crap after I was born by her parents. He beats her and my younger half siblings regularly and I'm not allowed to see them to help. Plus my father is Poseidon. He's never produced an omega before. I have a lot to fear with people knowing I am an omega.", says M/n.

Everyone went silent. No one had any idea what M/n went through. Finally Piper, a female alpha and daughter of Aphrodite, spoke. "Well, complicates things as the prophecy said to hurry up have kids to save the world. Most likely with Leo and Jason at that. We can't just force M/n into having kids like that. We need him to be comfortable with the idea.", she says.

Will and Nico: It had only been a year since the giant war had passed. Already there was another war on the horizon but several years in the future. Rachel, a female omega and the oracle of delphi, had wandered out of her cave with her grey and glazed and walked up to where M/n, the secretly omega demigod son of Ares, was talking, well fighting, with Will Solace, the alpha son of Apollo, while Nico Di Angelo, the alpha son of Hades and boyfriend of Will, watched looking done with the world. Rachel got directly in M/n's face and started screeching a prophecy.

"The most ancient evil awakens. It's name is lost to the sands of time. There only is only one hope now. The children born from the womb of a omega demigod child of war and seeds of alpha demigod children of the sun and death can defeat it. Hurry. Hurry. All hope will soon be lost without the children. Hurry.", screams Rachel and then she passes out.

Everyone rushes her to the infirmary. When she is all squared away in a bed Will and Nico turn to M/n. "So since she screamed it in your face I'm guessing you're the omega demigod child of war. Why didnt you tell anyone? You have probably missed so many regular check ups you need to make sure your healthy for an omega. What were you thinking, M/n? Was this about pride or something? There is nothing wrong with being an omega.", says Will.

M/n scowls. "No. It was not about pride. It was about my safety. Lots of omegas lead normal lives and our happy but lots also do not. There are omegas being hurt everyday simply because they're omegas. My own omega father is beaten and ridiculed to the point he is a hollow shell every day by his alpha mate that he was forced into mating with after I was born. I'm not even allowed to see him anymore to help. It's not all a pride thing its a fear thing.", says M/n.

Will and Nico say nothing for a minute. "Well, that makes this especially hard as your most likely supposed to have kids with Will and I in order to save the world. I know it said to hurry but we can't just rush into it.", says Nico.

[aphroditelovesu]

Is there are a difference between Yan!Apollo(Greek mythology) and Yan!Apollo (Percy Jackson)?

I don't think so, except in the platonic question. In the sense of a romantic yandere, Apollo would be ruthless in both.

For example, PJO!Apollo, if he was the father of a demigod (the Reader), he would definitely break the rules that gods can't help their children. I can see him granting gifts, blessings and even helping them on missions, in addition to the fact that he would have a special point for them being his child. A platonic Apollo is much better than a romantic one, he's easier to deal with, I think.

Hell, I think PJO!Apollo, just like the one in Greek Mythology, would take his demigod child to live on Olympus.

Now the Greek Mythology!Platonic Apollo would be less of a helper, because the Reader would not be his child (unless they are, that's another matter). There wouldn't really be any differences between them, just the fact of whose child the Reader would be.

In general, they are the same: petty, arrogant, obsessive and possessive. PJO!Apollo may be a little less so, especially if he has already been through The Trials of Apollo.

[xanasaurusrex]

Bonjour! May I ask, my dear, for Dionysus cabin? Amazing therapists, I think they’d be. Not sure though. Thank you so much hand, obviously, feel free to decline!

⇢ ˗ˏˋ dionysus cabin headcanons ࿐ྂ

bonjour my dear! thank you so much for requesting! mr. d is one of my favorite characters, so i'm really excited to do these.

i think the first and biggest thing i should mention about dionysus kids is: they know how to party.

i mean, their dad is literally the god of wine

of course they're gonna be the definition of party animals

wherever there's a party, they're always the life of it

they're rarely ever the ones to start the party because they tend to be rather scatterbrained and don't have the attention span to plan a party, but they love attending them

they love attending parties

dionysus kids are the definition of heavyweights

it takes a lot to get them drunk

like they can get buzzed and tipsy or whatever but it takes a lot for them to become actually drunk

they know how to have fun sober, though, trust me

dionysus kids are very festive souls

they love holidays, any holidays, and go above and beyond decorating for them and getting everyone and themselves in the real feel of the holiday

they love halloween because you can go all out for decorations

they love christmas for the same reason

a random thing to note; dionysus kids have a special affinity for grape flavored things

grape flavored candy, grape flavored drinks, you name it, and dionysus kids are all over it

they also love fruit

their dad is the god of fruit and orchards, so they're a big fan of it

of course, grapes are their favorite

dionysus kids really love raisins, too

they're just dried grapes, so they find the flavor pleasant enough

there are definitely dionysus kids who don't love raisins, but most dionysus kids will eat them if there's nothing else to snack on

this is one of those things that everybody else in camp judges them for, but they get to enjoy raisins with each other so it's okay

dionysus is also the god of vegetation, so dionysus kids also tend to like veggies more than the average kid

dionysus kids like veggies as toddlers, which is a big sign to them being a dionysus kid

like, they'll even devour broccoli

anyways

another thing about dionysus kids is that they generally have a pretty good relationship with their dad

he is the camp director, so they see him a lot more than the average half-blood sees their godly parent, but dionysus also generally builds relationships with his kids, so they get close, and they have good relationships

dionysus also doesn't like having lots of kids, he doesn't like being too outnumbered, so there's never too many dionysus kids in the cabin at once

this makes it easier for him to create lasting relationships and makes it easier to bond with them individually

i know mr. d was kinda an asshole to percy but i do headcanon him as a pretty good dad

because there's not usually an abundance of dionysus kids that also means that they get really close with each other

dionysus kids are each other's ride or dies

they consider each other their best friends

there's never usually more than 4 in the cabin at once so it's like a little friend group, except you all have the same dad!

so fun fact

dionysus is also the god of insanity and ritual madness

this does come across in dionysus kids, unfortunately

dionysus kids can go fucking insane sometimes

please, please please please, i beg of you

never cheat on a dionysus kid

think carrie underwood, but like times a thousand

all dionysus kids know before he cheats by heart because they've sung it at the top of their lungs in their cars after getting cheated on for the first time

and then they've gotten revenge

it's never pretty

i can't legally go into the details (aka i'm too tired to come up with the details) but please never do it

if not for the sake of the dionysus kid heart you're breaking but for your own

dionysus kids are also generally really gifted actors

dionysus is the god of theatre, and since he has a passion for it, he likes to pass that passion down to his kids

there's a sort of drama club within camp half-blood

(founded by dionysus kids and heavily supported by the camp director of course)

they like to put on shakespeare because it's very greek tragedy-esque, but usually without the actual greek tragedy

also whenever there's a sword fight, it's easy to perform and choreograph because they're already being trained in swordsmanship, so they already have that skill (or at least know how to handle a sword without decapitating themselves)

dionysus kids like to think shakespeare was a dionysus kid

mr. d will neither confirm nor deny

(but the glint in his eyes whenever you bring it up leans more towards the affirmative)

randomly going back to them being heavyweights thing, even if they do get drunk, it's rare for a dionysus kid to get a hangover

which is something they endlessly brag about to other campers

"oh, it's weird that i eat raisins? well, i don't get hangovers so suck it"

dionysus kids also have a hilarious sense of humor

like these kids are really funny

their sense of humor consists of a lot of sarcasm and teasing and stuff like that

they can be really annoying as older siblings and younger siblings

a lot of "why are you hitting yourself? why are you hitting yourself?" copying, and other stuff like that

basically, dionysus kids are super cool and crazy and chaotic, but they're hard not to love

it's also pretty nice being friends with a dionysus kid because they can get you out of trouble with their dad if what you did was pretty mild and they ask really nicely

they're also just so freaking fun at parties that it's so nice having them around

consider yourself lucky if you're a friend of a dionysus kid

so it's 2:30 am and i have to be up at 9 but i got inspired by this and i want to start pumping these out faster, so here you are! dionysus cabin headcanons. i hope you liked them, i had so much freaking fun writing these! thank you so much for reading, please reblog, i love you all so much! muah!!

[aroaceleovaldez]

what do you think about the charters (Nico, Percy and others) using mobility aids? (Especially after all the wars, fights, and other general injures they've probably got over the years)

I may be biased as someone who uses mobility aids, but I definitely think more demigods should have mobility aids in general. Nico in particular definitely could use it with how often he collapses and with how he generally exhibits some symptoms of low blood pressure at the very least if not POTS or EDS. I'm particularly biased to drawing him with my own crutches, lol (they have knee rests!!!!).

Also I always love seeing Grover with crutches. He was introduced as having a muscular disease - i know that's implied to be just cause he's actually a satyr, but also he's the only satyr to be described as "walking like every step hurt." So give him crutches!!!! He needs them!!!

I dont have any particularly strong opinions for other characters, except maybe usually giving Leo a prosthetic leg so he can thematically match his dad and sometimes crutches alongside that, and my friends and I have talked about Jason using a rollator before, particularly in Jason Lives!AUs. But regardless I always love discussing comorbidity between various other conditions and disabilities with ADHD and dyslexia and a not insignificant number of those comorbidities may require mobility aids. Functionally demigods are kind of more like intensive athletes with magic healthcare, and very few are on the level of like Nico where they've been through the wringer so much that it has lasting effects on them - actually very few in general seem to get a lot of physical damage that doesn't get healed quickly (i think in part cause most campers don't actually go on quests). mostly just psychological damage - so i don't think every demigod would need mobility aids, but like statistically there should probably be more just given the comorbidity stuff to begin with. Everybody who's come back from the dead should probably have more going on with them though imo.