#it falls into tartarus with them

[blahwithasideofblah]

Percy for some reason doesn't seem like the type of person to own a wallet, but if he does, you can bet your ass that picture of Annabeth from Sea of Monsters is in there. It's crumpled and torn and faded and has blue Gatorade stains on it, but it's there.

[liesmultixxx]

“𝙄𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙛𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙘𝙝 𝙢𝙚 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙣”

[leihaddock]

I’ve been reading PJO and then inadvertently stumbled into the fandom space here. And, now reading HoH, I’m slowly growing annoyed with the fandom. You all are aware those are children and teens right? Traumatised beyond belief. Full of hormones that sometimes make it hard to think let alone act rationally. Give them a fucking break

[artemx746]

honestly kinda obsessed with the way Nemesis, despite being a ‘minor’ goddess, can change the narrative so dramatically through single interactions.

[haleingstorm]

I'm back on my pjo bullshit now with added Naruto for flavor.

Team 7 gets reborn into pjo, who are they? Well I'm glad you asked.

What is the difference between too much loyalty, so much you forsake your own life, your well-being, your mission, and too much love? Uchiha's feel too much, too much love and too much hate. Percy Jackson is a son of the sea god but his eyes burn with fire. He is jaded and proud and desperately wants to keep his people alive. He is a master swordsmen because he has spent a entire lifetime perfecting his skills. His enemys expect him to fight like a Greek and underestimate him.

Annabeth Chase looks at Luke and thinks 'I've seen this before, I know what you will become ' but she can not stop him, will not stop him because she loves him. Annabeth fully believed that Thalia's death is her fault because she wasn't good enough, she was too weak too useless. She knows Luke blames her too(does he? Not to begin with but with Kronos whispering in his ears...). Annabeth meets Percy and thinks 'oh I know you'. Their relationship is not easy. This is not a love built on quests, and soft smiles and protection. It is one built on death and betrayal, barred teeth and knives at each other's throats. But they make it work.

History has a tendency to repeat itself and another little boy is called a monster. Leo Valdez knows who he and who he was. He knows somewhere out there his brother/person/other half is waiting for him. The first time Leo hears the prophecy he makes a choice, the only choice. The first time he gets his brother again he hugs him and does not let go for a long long time(Annabeth looks at the two of them and greives, you think at this point she would be used to always coming in second but that doesn't stop it from hurting).

Team 7 looks at the rest of the 7 and says no. They will make it home. Whatever else happens we will bring them home.

[n3arell-art]

"Will had heard love described in so many dramatic, bizarre ways over the years, but no one had described it like this:

It's like drifting down a river of pain and knowing you're safe.

It's like holding a person in your arms and realizing they are an interlocking piece of a puzzle you hadn't known how to assemble.

It's like starring into a dark and treacherous expanse, unsure of what awaits you but finding comfort in the fact that you won't have to face it alone.

It was a son of Apollo falling for a son of Hades.

It was this."

The Sun And The Star, Chapter 47

[forthedancingandthethriving]

Bing bong, another incorrect quotes collection

Tartarus: Trinity, I care about you so much I would kill for you.

Trinity: That's sweet, but I'm not going to ask that of you.

Tartarus: Please.

Trinity: Tartarus-

Tartarus: Ask me to kill for you, please.

----

Luigi: What’s your problem? Does seeing others fail somehow make you feel better about your own tedious, miserable existence?

Mr L: It absolutely does. 100%.

----

Irene: Can I have another cookie?

Nightmare King: Well, what did Dream King say?

Irene: He said no.

NK: Then why are you asking me?

Irene, cheekily: Because you're the king of nightmares, and he's not the boss of you.

NK, internally: IT'S A TRAP, IT'S A TRAP, IT'S A TRAP, IT'S A TRAP-

----

Mario: What's the worst decision you’ve made while drunk?

Bob: Don't mean to brag, but I don't need alcohol to make really bad decisions.

----

Lil Coding: *screaming*

Lily: *also screaming*

Elanore: What are they doing?

Cody: Asserting their dominance.

----

Olympus: I swing both ways.

Olypmus: Violently. With a hammer. Come get some, motherfuckers!

----

Luigi: You promised me you wouldn't get me bee's again..

Mario, from a distance: Just open it.

----

Forum: Are you getting enough sleep?

Juliano: Sometimes when I sneeze my eyes close.

----

Mario: Did you eat my powdered donuts.

Bob, mouth full of donuts: No.

Mario: Then what's that white powder on your shirt?

Bob: That’s cocaine.

----

Abyssal: If Overseer thinks he can just bat his cute little eyes at me and get whatever he wants, he is absolutely right.

----

LC: Look, I found all three differences.

Lily: Those are two completely different pictures.

[kisakis-boyfriend]

I NEED to cradle Takaya in my arms RIGHT NOW or else I'm going to start biting people 😡

[galacticneighbor]

percy and annabeth couldn't do orpheus and eurydice bc percy would never leave without her. btw.

[phoenixcatch7]

Okay do I make a) my Percy Jackson reincarnates into dc, or b) my loz link goes to camp half blood au.

[titansarmy]

heroes of olympus should have been 7 books where each book was one the seven's pov. starting with leo in the lost hero and jason for the blood of olympus finale. to storm or fire, the start and the end.

[ruegarding]

a lot of people have brought up tartarus, and while it is an example of loyalty, it's not a good example of how it's his fatal flaw.

loyalty isn't a trait unique to percy. most demigods are loyal to each other to the point of sacrifice (eg thalia's final stand of half-blood hill), so falling into tartarus doesn't show why percy's loyalty is unique. that's why i didn't include falling into tartarus. it was intentional.

i never understood ppl claiming percy has never suffered the consequences of his loyalty. you're talking about percy "i know the prophecy said my friend would betray me but these are my friends they wouldn't betray me" jackson, who walked into a remote part of the forest with luke and almost died in book one. you're talking about percy "kronos told me point-blank there was a traitor but i can't imagine any of these ppl betraying me" jackson, who decided to stop looking for the traitor and moved on. you're talking about percy "nico is acting suspicious and very clearly hiding something from me but he's my friend and i trust him" jackson, who walked into nico's very obvious set up and almost got himself held hostage during the titan war. percy is so loyal that he cannot fathom betrayal until it's happening, and it has nearly killed him multiple times.

[wisebeth]

One thing which genuinely bothers me is Annabeth's perception in the fandom. How she's seen as this cold, stoic, emotionless, reserved and intimidating girl. When in reality, she's a character full of love.

Annabeth, who immediately cried and felt attached to Cerberus after playing with him for a few minutes because she wouldn't get to play with him again.

Annabeth, whose deepest desire, which the Sirens lured her with, is saving Luke and having a good relationship with both her parents.

Annabeth, who believed in Luke's goodness, even after all the countless terrible things he did simply because she had faith in his humanity.

Annabeth, who cried in Percy's arms before entering the labyrinth and refused to reveal the last line of the prophecy because it said to lose a love worse than death and the idea of losing any of her friends is too painful, heartbreaking and worse than dying.

Annabeth, who kissed Percy before parting with him in St. Helens because if he's going to die, she at least wants him to die knowing she loved him.

Annabeth, who took a poisoned knife for Percy during the war because she'd rather die herself than let him die.

Annabeth, who convinced Luke to switch sides by reminding him of the promise of family he gave her. Which in turn, influenced Luke's decision to end himself to destroy Kronos. Hello, she saved the world with the power of love.

Annabeth, who spent months after months losing sleep and searching desperately for Percy when he went missing.

Annabeth, who kissed Percy to eternity in public at their reunion, not caring what anyone is going to say or think. An asteroid could've hit the earth, and she wouldn't have cared.

Annabeth, who told Percy “I love you” when falling in Tartarus because if she was going to die, she wanted them to be her last words.

Annabeth Chase is a sweetheart, who has always felt things deeply and she's so full of love. And I think it's time we let go of the “cold-hearted annabeth” headcanon because it's not true, that's not her.

[stedesbonnets]

PERCABETHHH

[ceilidho]

I’ve been watching Spartacus with my dad and I must share with you the vision I had.

Gladiator 141 and the sweet little thing they got as a reward after a fight well fought.

this is very old:

Sometimes he spends as much as an hour staring at you through the bars of your cell. 

You haven’t yet worked up the nerve to say something to him. Not while he still wears the silver-plated galea that obscures most of his face. You can still see thin lips through the middle slit of his helmet, where the cheek plates don’t meet and the thin strip running down the bridge of his nose gives way to his philtrum, and the barest slivers of dark eyes. 

Apart from his helmet, he wears little else—sometimes the customary leather pteruge around his waist or a simple tunic belted at the waist. Nothing that would hinder his movements. It keeps the bulk of him on display. A prized fighter then, you surmise, as if the helmet weren’t enough to make that known. 

He still gleams bronze from his fights under the sun. Perhaps he’s counted at least a full hand’s worth this week alone. He comes to you sometimes after those very fights, still dripping sweat and prowling the length of your cell like one of the lions kept beneath the arena. You never know what to say to him then. There’s little you can do apart from curl up into yourself in the far corner of this cell you’ve come to know as a temporary home and eye him warily. 

It’s hard to reckon with the size of him. That’s what keeps you wary, watchful of him when he comes to keep you company for reasons unbeknownst to you. He hasn’t made them known yet, in any case. 

There isn’t an augur to warn you the day he chooses to speak. 

“Where'd they take you from, pretty bird?”

You flinch at the sound of his voice. It comes from the pure depths of him, Tartarus deep. You think it would take nine days for it to reach you, like a bronze anvil falling alongside it. In the days that he’s spent at your side, haunting the length of your cell like a sentry bound to his post, you’ve never once heard so much as a whisper.

His words take a moment to register. Across from you, he sits back on his haunches, thick thighs bunched up under the fan of his pteruge. It’s hard to tell how long he’s been there—the hallway outside your cell is relatively dark, the only windows being on the leftmost side of the building, near the door where he must have quietly slipped in. 

“East of here,” you answer hesitantly.

He hums, nods his head. Ruminates on your words. 

In truth, you can only guess—the village where you grew up, where you suckled at your mother’s teat and played with the other children in the glen surrounded by mountains jutting up from the earth and ochre yellow and green wildgrass, the fog sometimes sitting so low in the valley that you could lose yourself in it, is far from here. At least a month’s walk, perhaps more (you lost time along the way). Your feet are still blistered from the march back to Rome, legs still covered in sores and bruises; even now your cell is a poor comfort, the dirt floors harsh on your knees and shins, abrasive to the partially healed skin of your feet. 

You’ve never been very worldly though, never known more than the four walls around your bed. Perhaps the walk wasn’t nearly as long, as treacherous; maybe you came from the west instead, or the south. You can only guess. 

“I came from the north,” he says, breaking the silence again. That startles you somehow. The thought of him under the thumb of another feels inexplicably gut-wrenching; if a man with a virile, sweat-laden chest like his, arms corded with muscle that yours will never see in a thousand years, has been yoked to Rome’s chariot, what hope do you have? 

You wonder for a moment if he’ll tell you more, but he falls silent after that simple revelation. The weight of his gaze still pins you in place.

“…You’re a prisoner then?” you ask, considering briefly whether to say like I, before discarding the thought. Like I, like me. Are you too in a cage, like me?

It’s difficult to suppress the urge to ask him more, but you do. It does you no good to endear yourself to men that move and stare like beasts. There’s something malignant in him, you think, a rot burrowed in deep. You can feel it stir in you too when your eyes dip too low, halted by the muscles of his thighs and the thick slabs packing his arms. You’ve seen beasts copulate; you imagine he’d be much the same. 

He tilts his head, considering your words. Wolf-like, and you’ve seen wolves before. Though the ever-present helmet obstructs most of his face, the sharpness of his eyes pierces through. “They don’t put me in a cage anymore. What would you call that?”

Your chest collapses under his words. Hopes dashed. Does he go in the cage of his own accord then? Does he lock the door himself, deliver the key to the guard standing watch? You think people taken from their homes should see their plight in each other, but the gladiator before you doesn’t look at you like the two of you share a fate. 

“A slave?” you postulate, perhaps too boldly. Worry crawls inside the walls of your belly when his lips flatten, almost imperceptibly.

“Do I look like a slave to you?” he asks, and you can hear it this time. A gentle warning. A rebuke. A question that tells you all that you need to know about this man and how he sees the two of you. 

You remain silent, cowed under his stare and the tone of his voice. Perhaps he’s right, in a way; he’s not the one in the cage. He seems free to come and go as he pleases, his movements unrestricted. Unlike your own. You’ve hardly left this cell once since a faction of the legionaries left you at the gates of the city to be handled by those in charge, watching slave after slave made empticii, helpless, until finally you were dragged to the stand for viewing. 

You flinch when he grabs one of the bars of your cell, thick fingers coiling around the metal and overlapping easily. 

“What did they take you for, pretty bird?” His fingers tighten around the bar, knuckles whitening. “Every day I fight and yet they never offer you as a prize.”

The new scars on his body make sense then, fresh lacerations across his arms and legs that have multiplied by the days since he started visiting you. Why he gleams with fresh sweat every day, correlating with the fights you hear in the arena above you, the cacophonous chants and stamping feet. You can imagine him in front of a crowd frothing at the mouth for blood and gore. 

He comes stained in it sometimes. You hold your breath until he leaves on those days, reminded too much of your village in the aftermath of the plundering. 

“I don’t know,” you whisper, tucking your legs into your chest and trying to get as close to the wall behind you as possible. 

It’s the truth. No one tells you anything. No one told you what would happen when they ransacked your village and burnt it to ash, the bodies of everyone you’ve ever loved still burning char black in the tall grass, whittled down by the flames. No one told you what would happen after they dragged you back a thousand passus to a city scorched in white marble and stone and immaculate gold. They dragged you here and shut the door. 

He seems frustrated at your words, lips thinning like he has to hold back his rage.

“I’ll slaughter a hundred more if that’s your price,” he says, his helmet knocking into the bars with a rough clang and making you jump when he leans in. His chest lifts with his quickened breaths, working himself up at the thought of more bloodshed. “Then give you their hearts. No other man will take you. I’ll rend their limbs if another man tries. Make you taste their blood on my fingers and lap it up when I split you on my—”

Your heel skitters across the ground, digging a small groove into the dirt and scattering small rocks across the cell. “I don’t k-know what they intend—”

You stare at him when he rises back up to his feet, words dying on your tongue. Standing, he towers over you, shoulders rolling back to puff out his chest. 

“You wait, little bird. Flutter your wings. Soon you’ll see the sun.”

You can only imagine what he means. The thought of sunlight on your face fills you with dread for the first time in your life. 

He leaves without another word, heavy footsteps carrying him to the door until you hear him pry it open, sunlight streaming in for a second before it slams shut. The silence in the absence of him feels monstrous, gargantuan. 

All you can do is let out a shuddering breath.

[wonderjanga]

Marvel Eating Random Things

I love allllllllll the Billy eating random things as Marvel posts/headcanons. I don’t know why. I just love it. I love unhinged Marvel soooo much. But what if we took it one step further and had Marvel eat anything, including living creatures. Also, I’m gonna connect this to the Marvel being a Good Cook post. In that post, he’s just a good cook basically.

Flash: *passed out on the floor of the kitchen in a hypoglycemic coma*

Marvel: *walks into the kitchen and stops dead in his tracks* “Wally?” *walks over and prods him with his shoe* “Are you dead?” *kneels down to sniff him* “Can I eat you?”

Flash: *groans*

Marvel: *stands up* “Oh, thank the gods.” *picks Wally up to take him to the medbay* “Come on, bud. Let’s see if we can fix you up.”

A little bit later…

Flash: *on a medical cot and wakes up*

Marvel: *nearby, doing a crossword puzzle*

Flash: *sees Marvel* “Cap?”

Marvel: “Yes?” *fills in one of the words on the puzzle*

Flash: “Did you… Did you ask if you could eat me?”

Marvel: “Nope.”

Flash: “Yeah, that’s what I thought. It’s just I swear I heard you say something like that.” *sits up, stomach rumbling*

Marvel: “You were pretty knocked out, man. I don’t remember saying that.” *puts crossword down* “Why don’t we get something to eat? Like chili dogs or burgers or something?”

Flash: “Sounds great.” *gets off the cot so they can head to the zetas*

He gaslit, gatekeeped, and girlbossed. He’s also done this to multiple leaguers by the way. One of them was Batman who now has a recording of Billy asking if he could eat him. Bruce listened to it a solid ten times because in this AU, he knows next to nothing about Marvel, and now, because of this recording, he’s wondering if Marvel is, or was even human.

Then, there was the time him and Wonder Woman went together to wrangle some demons back into Tartarus. Unfortunately, one of the demons died during the process and didn’t make it back into the gates. So, now Diana and Billy were stuck with a demon corpse.

Diana: *looking at the corpse* “What should we do with it?”

Marvel: *also looking at the corpse* “Hmm… I have an idea.”

Diana: “Oh? Could you sha-” *now sees Marvel in his little lightning bolt apron and chef hat* “Why’re you dressed like that?”

Marvel: “I like to get into it.” *starts pulling salt, pepper, paprika, Goya Adobo, basically a bunch of seasonings out of his pocket dimension*

Diana: “Cap…? Cap. You can’t seriously be suggesting we eat the demon?”

Marvel: “I’m not suggesting anything. I’m just politely telling you that it’s one, delicious, and two also delicious.” *conjures up a giant, demon-sized, floating frying pan from nowhere with a fire underneath it*

Diana: *watches as Marvel picks the demon up, puts it in the pan, and starts seasoning*

She does end up eating some of the demon later with Marvel. Though she swore she would “never do it again.” But, when she heard Marvel tell her of a demon that tastes like hard candy when you mix its body with a certain magical herb, she wouldn’t admit it, but she had second thoughts. Those second thoughts amped up when he told her they were really good to eat with ice cream.

Then, there was the time with Aquaman. He came over to Atlantis because he wanted to see Aquaman’s sea creatures. His school had a field trip to the aquarium and he not only did he not have an adult to sign the permission slip, he also didn’t have enough money to pay the fare. Thankfully, Billy’s Marvel form didn’t need to breathe so he could go underwater just fine. Meanwhile, Arthur was just happy to yap about the sea creatures to and listen intently and ask questions and all that. Unfortunately, some mermaids swam up and decided to ruin their fun. Now, you see, they were sort of fighting them in an underwater cave and all the fighting caused a piece of rubble to come loose and fall on one of the mermaids, killing her. This caused the rest of them to run.

Aquaman: “Alright, back to the tour.” *sees Marvel casually sawing off the mermaid’s tail* “What’re you doing, man?”

Marvel: “I’m gonna eat this later.” *holds the mermaid tail up, shaking it a little*

Aquaman: “Oh. Cool. Can I have some?”

Marvel: “Sure, I can make it when our tours done.” *puts the mermaid tail in his pocket dimension*

Aquaman: “Nice, I’ll bring some Atlantean mead.”

Later…

Marvel and Aquaman: *both munching on mermaid tail*

Aquaman: “This really good!” *grabs some mead to drink down his mouthful of fish*

Marvel: “Thanks.” *munches on fish* “You know, I was surprised you wanted to eat this.”

Aquaman: “Why?”

Marvel: “You can talk to fish right? So, if you were to go to an aquarium, wouldn’t you hear some fish screaming to be let out or something?”

Aquaman: “Geez, I haven’t been to an aquarium since I was a kid.” *sounding nostalgic* “But nah, they normally just chill.”

Marvel: “I haven’t been to one ever. And really? Huh.” *munches on fish more* “But I guess what I’m really asking is if you’re sensitive about eating fish or not.”

Aquaman: “Nah, not really. In this great big sea, what did you think the main source of protein was? Plus, this is mermaid, it’s only technically fish.”

Marvel: *shrugs* “So is that a no? You don’t care about eating fish?”

Aquaman: *nods head as he drinks more mead* “It’s a no.”

Marvel: “Sweet! Cause I have a bunch of fish recipes I wanna try out.”

About an hour after this, Marvel had to help Aquaman home since the Atlantean challenged him to a drinking contest, not knowing the Captain couldn’t get drunk. Mera had a brow raised at Billy judgmentally the entire time he explained why he came home with her husband black out drunk.