#while in apollo's olympus infirmary

[o3o-lapd-o3o]

*during get in the water*

odysseus: aren't you tired poseidon, it's been 10 years!

odysseus: maybe you could learn to forgive~

poseidon:

poseidon: oh, so when crows remember people who wronged them and hold grudges, its “intelligent” and “really cool”

poseidon: but when i do it, i'm “petty” and “need to let it go”

poseidon: no.

poseidon: *activates his ultimate god move: shatter the ocean*

odysseus: uhhh...there are other ways of persuasio- *drowns*

[iwannakisskissyoureyesagain]

uhhh even more percy jackson headcanons

- there’s always music playing in the apollo cabin. they have communal playlists, but there are times when one person gets to play dj, especially when it’s relatively empty

- everyone has to emotionally prepare for audial whiplash whenever kayla gets to play music because she puts every song she has ever liked in her entire life onto one playlist, so it can go from twenty one pilots to ethel cain to beabadoobee to fifth harmony in just fifteen minutes

- will is usually pretty lenient with who gets to play what and when (he has a few clean playlists for when there are little kids present), but on days when the infirmary is packed and he’s visibly on the verge of collapse, no one dares change it from whatever kasey musgraves song he just put on

- austin exclusively plays obscure 20+ minute-long jazz songs. austin no longer has access to the cabin 7 spotify account

- there are bi-monthly meetings with all the counselors and chiron and dionysus to discuss any problems, questions, quests, deaths, fights, complaints, and other issues

- chiron ended up helping train and appointing a few other apollo kids to take up shifts in the infirmary when will accidentally fell asleep in the middle of one of said meetings. will kept insisting it was fine and that he wasn’t overworked, but eventually gave in when nico kept having to nudge him awake and chiron had to send him back to the apollo cabin early so he could take a nap

- frank cried so hard when he saw barbie that he had to leave the theater for a minute

- drew and will went to the sweat tour together

- drew actually kind of hates that charlie xcx is only really getting properly noticed now because of brat, because she’s a huge charlie fan and has been here since “boom clap”

- ever since blood of olympus, percy is genuinely terrified of getting a nosebleed. the first time it happens is when he’s sick at college and annabeth has to coach him through a panic attack

- nico isn’t actually that invested in star wars, star trek, or any other sci-fi franchise that will obsesses over, but sits through it anyways for his boyfriend’s sake

- piper and shel dressed up as different versions of chappell roan for halloween. piper was lady liberty chappell and shel was “good luck, babe” bird chappell

- every chance they get, piper and leo meet up, get jack in the box, smoke weed, and catch up in whatever car piper stole from her dad, because it helps them both feel normal

- piper and will smoke together whenever she visits camp, usually while having a shit talk session

- sally, paul, and estelle visited percy and annabeth for family and friends weekend while they’re at school, of course, but tyson, ella, hazel, and frank, piper and leo, and nico, will, reyna, and thalia (and, by nature, the rest of the hunters) all made time to stop by at various points during family and friends

- once he realized he could occasionally get away with sneaking out of olympus in the middle of the night, ganymede developed a habit of taking a walk down the beach at camp. he ran into dionysus one night and fully expected to have to fetch some fancy wine for him, or at least go back to get his chalice, unaware of his sobriety punishment, but did a total 180 when dionysus ended up being kind to him. instead, the two of them walked and talked about how much they both hate zeus, and it ended up becoming a therapy session for ganymede (think aimee’s first session in sex education)

- sally got annabeth one of those self defense keychains before she left for school

- apollo brings meg to camp every time he goes to visit his kids. on one visit, he took her, will, kayla, austin, and nico to build-a-bear. it was meg and nico’s first time going. nico was in total awe and meg cried and hugged apollo for a minute straight

- hazel prefers cartoons and animation over live-action movies and shows

- percy is really good at watercolor. rachel tries to teach him to paint and thinks he’s a prodigy until they move onto acrylics and she realizes he was just manipulating the water

- annabeth and sally both love watching the princess bride together. percy tries to watch it three separate times for their sake, like nico does with will’s sci-fi stuff, but ends up drooling on annabeth’s shoulder by the end of the movie each time

- percy desperately wanted a water bed for years when he was younger, but neither chiron nor sally would trust him with one. he eventually begged paul to get him one as a graduation present, and he put it in his cabin at camp. it lasted less than 24 hours before he popped it and woke up in the middle of the night on top of the deflated mattress, he himself completely dry but his floor absolutely soaked. dionysus made an announcement at breakfast the next morning that any mattress filled with anything except air was prohibited, and anyone else who flooded their cabin would get stable duties for a whole week

- will doesn’t like to use his plague powers very much after tsats, but he does like to give anyone who pisses him off mild-but-annoying congestion or a lingering headache

- nico and will like to do this thing to mess with people, where nico cracks will’s back or will cracks his knuckles and he lights up, usually in front of people who don’t actually know how will’s powers work

- austin is the exception to this rule; they do it in front of him because he hates the sound of people cracking their bones

- there was a point where everyone knew that will could glow except percy. he found out the hard way when he, annabeth, nico, and will were hanging out in the jackson-blofis apartment and the power went out, and nico cracked will’s spine and will started glowing. percy was so freaked out that he screamed and woke up the rest of the house

- sometimes frank eats fistfuls of shredded cheese, for the thrill

- very rarely, rachel talks in her sleep and says indiscernible bits of prophecies, both new and old. she has no idea she does it

- apollo hates leonard cohen

pt. 1

pt. 2

pt. 3

[kozumesphone]

hi hi hi can i please get a percy jackson x daughter of aphrodite reader?? basically she’s all about the love part of Aphrodite and she’s talking about it constantly and he’s her friend and kinda realises like oh wait i’m in love w her

does that make sense?? also can i get a moodboard w it?? <33

thank you and ily!

masterlist

💌┊₊˚⊹꒷ BROOKLYN BABY .ᐟ

⤷ percy jackson x daughter of aphrodite!reader ‧₊˚ ⋅

ᝰ. 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 . . . percy jackson and the heroes of olympus

ᝰ. 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬 . . . y/n constantly yaps about the idea of love to her best friend, percy, and he realises he has feelings for her. (annie’s y/n’s close friend too! i’m too nice to make her an angry b </3) also!! y/n has brown eyes solely bc brown eyes are pretty asf and not talked about enough <3 + ft. best friends to lovers, minor gods dissing (like one time), y/n reading the cruel prince (not directly mentioned), percy having an ‘uh oh, i’m in love’ moment, and a book bouquet. p.s. moodboard at the end!

ᝰ. 𝐤𝐞𝐲 . . . y/n: your name | y/l/n: your last name | n/n: nickname

ᝰ. 𝐰𝐜 . . . 1.4k

ᝰ. 𝐚/𝐧 . . . hdkwjdkw 1/8 asks complete lmao. this req was so cute!! I love reading the ‘moment of realisation’ dialogues in books, but it was especially fun to write it for the first time. it was a little weird to write only bc i’m a cabin 3 kid irl but it’s okay 😭 for the sake of a fluffy fic, I powered through, guys <3

2 years ago . . .

✮⋆˙ y/n’s pov

“some kid killed a minotaur!” a hermes cabin demigod yelled from near the dining pavilion. glancing up from our glasses of soda, annabeth and I turned towards the voice. “he’s a new one!”

we looked at each other, wondering which god couldn’t keep it in their pants again.

suddenly, a few apollo kids ran out from the infirmary towards the arch near thalia’s tree.

“the new kid’s probably clumsy,” annabeth said.

“he killed a minotaur,” I shot back.

“hey, you can be dumb and strong at the same time.”

“uh huh. whose child do you think he is? I bet it’s one of the big three.” I said.

“no way, they have a pact, remember-”

“do you really think they actually follow that, annie?” I snickered at her.

in a while, an unconscious boy about their age was carried into the infirmary. I only caught sight of his black hair, and dishevelled and bloody look. I decided to visit him the next day to check up on his condition.

the rest of the day was spent reading in my cabin, while my sisters tried new makeup products on our brother, which was quite funny, really.

throughout the next week, I left the warmth of my bed to visit the new kid—percy jackson—in the infirmary. he had begun to regain consciousness.

“who are you?” he asked, sharply inhaling a breath.

“oh, hey,” I smiled at him. “i’m y/n y/l/n. daughter of aphrodite.”

“right. daughter of aphrodite. a goddess,” he repeated slowly.

I realised that no one had explained about camp half-blood to him yet, and took that job upon myself after calling out for will and letting him know that his patient was awake.

“so, there’s gods and goddesses. and monsters. and everything in the greek myths you were taught? they’re all real. at camp half-blood, we’re all demigods—the children of a god or goddess and a mortal.” I continued to explain to him how the demigod world worked, remembering to talk about the mist, the gods, the cabins, and everything else.

I expected him to not believe me, and call me names (like the other new campers) for lying, but he took it like a champ. he nodded at me, sitting up properly, and asked for something so his arm would stop paining. I immediately got will to help him.

the next week, when I was out by the beach, reading my romance novel about a mortal girl and a faerie prince falling in love after being enemies, I heard sand shifting around behind me.

“who-” I turned around.

“hey, y/n, right?” percy asked, walking closer.

“ah, you remember,” I said, a smile growing on my face.

“well, yeah. you’re really just the only person who has spoken to me normally… and not like I was some intimidating and scary… thing,” he said, running his hands through his already dishevelled hair.

“come, sit down.” I patted the sand beside me. he took his place there, sitting down with his legs criss-crossed.

“what are you reading?” he asked.

I explained to him the plot, setting, characters, and everything about the book I was reading for the next few hours.

we sat there till dusk, watching the sun set into pretty hues of pink, purple, and orange.

“it’s so pretty, isn’t it?” I asked.

✮⋆˙ percy’s pov

“yeah, it is.” I replied to her, eyes fixed on her side profile.

wow. she’s so beautiful.

timeskip: present

“perce!” y/n called loudly, running towards me.

“heyyyy! n/n, you’re back! how was the quest? did you get hurt or anything?” I asked, hugging her, and then moving back to scan her for injuries.

“i’m fine, perce, all good. I got will to check me out and he cleared me,” she said, grinning. her face was swiped with dirt and grime, but she still looked like she was an ethereal princess who walked out of one of her books. “what? have I got a lot of dirt on my face?”

“nah, you’re cool. ‘s pretty.” I said, and she laughed—my favourite sound in the entire world. “and anyway, you need to change out of these clothes and meet me outside your cabin. I have something for you.”

“what is it?”

“that’s a surprise-”

“I hate surprises.”

“you’ll like this one,” I winked at her, as she laughed again.

timeskip

✮⋆˙ y/n’s pov

I changed into casual loose sweatpants and a shirt since it was summer.

ah, summer. one of most romantic seasons ever. the breeze whipping around a girl’s hair, as a boy runs towards her with flowers. the sunlight falling onto their faces as they share a kiss. watching the sun set in pretty shades everyday with each other. that was summer.

everything about it reminded me of percy. watching sunsets, seeing the sunlight fall on his face after he gets out of the water. the flowers, now dry, that he gifted me for every special occasion.

it was hard to admit that I liked him more than I would like any friend. i’d never picked up any hints from him, that might’ve signalled that he liked me, no matter how many of my siblings told me he did.

all friends hold hands, right? and all good friends wish each other a good morning and good night everyday. what was so special? the flowers?

“hey, n/n!” percy’s voice dragged me out of my thoughts. he was dressed in loose shorts and a hawaii button up, and my gods, he looked so gorgeous.

“perce! at least tell me where we’re going now,” I groaned.

“nuh-uh. a surprise is a surprise.” he brought out a blindfold and handed it to me. I raised my eyebrow at him. “put it on. i’ll take you there.”

“I swear to gods, if this turns out to be a prank-”

“shh, it won’t. now put it on,” he promised.

I walked closer to him and put on the blindfold, and he turned me around a few times to make sure I wouldn’t figure out where we’re going. I scoffed at his childish actions.

as he was standing behind me, I felt his warmth on my back. he took my arms at my side and urged me to walk ahead.

he manoeuvred me in different directions and finally stopped after a while.

“you ready, princess?” he asked. the nickname did something to cause butterflies in my stomach.

“yeah,” I whispered.

he took off the blindfold, and it was too bright for a second. I shielded my eyes and groaned, before letting them adjust to the harsh sunlight.

I looked around and saw a huge, fluffy blanket laid down on the grass of the fields. a basket with food was set in one corner and a bouquet in the centre.

specifically, a book bouquet.

“PERCY, HOW DID YO-”

“surprise,” he grinned, as I turned around and hugged him. he’d always given me gifts when I returned from quests, but this was, by far, the best.

“how’d you know all my favourites?” I asked, looking at the 10 romance novels on the blanket.

“oh, annie helped,” he said enthusiastically. “should we sit down and start eating? you can tell me all about the people in your books, and why you like romance books especially, yeah?”

smiling, we sat down on the blankets, and ate away with no care in the world.

✮⋆˙ percy’s pov

as she talked about her books for the next few hours, I could only think about how beautiful her brown eyes were, especially when the sunlight hit them at the correct angle. how soft her lips looked as her mouth moved at a faster pace than her thoughts. how perfect her cheeks were, smiling wide. how amazing she was. how smart and beautiful she was.

when did my feelings of friendship turn into love, for her?

as she continued to speak of the love between her favourite characters, I noticed her longing for a similar love. I could give that to her, couldn’t I?

wait. what? what am I even thinking? y/n’s my best friend.

“love is everywhere, in every gesture, every glance. it’s the thread that binds us together, connecting hearts across time and space,” she said.

and at that moment, I knew I was done for.

I was hopelessly in love with my best friend.

percy jackson x daughter of aphrodite — the love like in her books <3

taglist — @nuncscioquidsitamor-14 @mqstermindswift @puffoz @skeelly @urmomabby @sunnitheapollokid @jgracie @canonfeminine @cinemaconrad @totokyo @urbanflorals @aezuria @thetunnelunderoceanboulevard @cherigall @percabethluvr @pjoverseluvr @maybxlle @mershellscape @riordanness @starlitszn @metyouattherighttime @a-beautiful-fool @sequinsnstars @ssparksflyy @fayvpor @iheartgirlzn

kozumesphone © 2024 | don’t repost my works onto other platforms, or edit and post them even on tumblr, without asking me first • don’t steal my works, steal my heart instead • reblogs and comments are more than appreciated !

[monowritestoomuch]

Riptide

Art belongs to @saixria

Notes: I said bet motherfuckers. Never doubt me. I always deliver, even if I end up taking a year (I’ve done that before, we all have) Count how many times I write divine, lmao. Regardless, enjoy this as I’m still locked out of my main writing account. Yes, my Hamilton fic is being worked on, don’t worry. They’re all being worked on. 

Another thing, I’m no doctor of medicine, so I apologize for any medical inaccuracies.

Foretime = yesterday (in context of the story)

Word Count: 2460

Athena sat in one of the many plush beds in Apollo’s infirmary upon Olympus, staring down at the scars on her hands. They resembled lightning, a strike in the night. 

Athena knew how many mortals had received similar scars upon being struck by lightning, but none had it as harsh as herself. The scars, gold in color, stretched out over her body, up her arms and around her neck, the phantom pain of the injury still residing in her memories. 

A shriek sounded down the corridor outside the room, followed by shouting in one voice. Apollo’s voice. He seemed to be scolding whoever it was that had appeared at the infirmary. Sure, Apollo was easy to startle, but to make him shriek like a child, which hadn’t happened in many centuries.

Athena listened as she heard something, likely a body drop on Apollo, likely driven to unconsciousness. She listened to Apollo struggle and drag the body down the corridor and into the main room of the infirmary, where Athena herself lay recovering. 

Apollo practically dragged the body in, his hair a dastard mess and stygian shadows creasing his under-eyes. He placed the body down on the bed beside Athena, allowing her to gaze on whatever poor minor god who had somehow incurred a wrath so great that they could not heal themselves in their domains. 

Athena’s eyes widened, her body freezing. The god in the bed beside her was no minor god. No, it was her uncle. Poseidon, God of the Seas. Golden ichor dripped from the numerous wounds that had graced his immortal body. The main injury, that dripped golden ichor ceaselessly, was several, repeated stab wounds to the stomach. Three different wounds all dripped in tandem, equal in their intensity and violent nature. The markings of a trident. 

With the profuse intensity the ichor-bleeding wounds held, Athena could only guess that it was Poseidon’s own trident that had injured him. But the question still remained prominent in her mind, who would be able to take Poseidon’s trident and injure him profusely so? Athena didn’t know, not yet, at least, and not while Apollo fervently fretted over their uncle’s unconscious body.

Golden ichor covered practically every inch of her uncle’s injured body, the subtle rise and fall of his chest the only small indication of life still relaying it’s gift onto him. 

Apollo’s hands glowed a soft white over their uncle’s body, the smaller wounds on his body closing, leaving the larger trident-stab-wounds still dripping golden ichor onto the infirmary bed. This, in itself, caused Apollo panic. Athena knew how powerful Apollo was, she knew how capable he was, and yet the stab wounds in his stomach wouldn’t heal, no matter how much Apollo tried, over and over again.

Eventually, Apollo realized he couldn’t heal the wound, for the injury was given by the divine weapon of another god, a god more powerful than Apollo himself. The injury would not heal divinely, so as it was caused by the divine weapon of a god, the god of the seas himself. 

With that being the case, he stitched the wound, spreading a nectar balm over the injuries, before wrapping them up and finishing the wrap around his stomach, going over his shoulder and past his long, dark hair. Another bandage wrapped his left bicep. His head lay heavy on the pale ivory infirmary pillows, his body tucked under the tawny sheets. 

Apollo heaved a heavy sigh, short-term relief echoing in it. He pushed back the long, wavy, golden locks of his hair, a sheer layer of sweat on his forehead, shining in the soft glow of sunshine that graced itself through the windows of the room. He turned to Athena, his shoulders adjusting accordingly. 

“How are you, Athena?” he asked, eyes fleeting between each of his injuries, covered in bandage wraps and nectar balm. “The’ pain any more fleeting than foretime?” he inquired. 

Athena met his golden-eyed gaze. “The pain is–manageable, Apollo,” she answered. Her shoulders evened out as she spoke. “I can return to my duties–” she started arguing once more, being interrupted again by her divine physician half-brother. 

“No, Athena. We’ve had this argument every single day since you’ve awoken from Father’s. . .punishment,” he paused, pursing his lips and crossing his toned arms. “I have told you many times over, it will be another few weeks until you will be able to regain your strength and return to your duties, and until then, you will rest,” he scolded. “I don’t want you trying to sneak out one of the windows like you have tried prior, you are not strong enough.”

Athena shuffled back into the pillows of the infirmary bed, her head pounding and nerves tensing. Apollo’s shoulders sagged as he walked over to the side of Athena’s bed, conjuring up a glass of golden brown liquid. He placed it on the bedside, a wooden straw sticking out of the drink. He sat himself on the oak wood stool beside the bed, elbows on his knees. 

“Understand me, Athena,” Apollo pleaded. “Father’s wrath is hard to incur, and when one does, it never ends well. Father is not one for mercy or peace, and he gets insulted very easily, sister. He was not kind when giving you those scars, scars that I myself cannot heal,” he paused, his chin resting on his tanned hands. “All I ask, all I plead, is that you rest and heal. You cannot heal if you’re dead, sister.”

The word brought a heavy chill over the room. Dead. Death, a mercy for mortals and pitiful minor gods. But Athena dying? It was unlikely and unheard of. The frigid word brought a shiver up her frayed-nerve spine. 

Apollo stood up, walking to the arched doorway and turning to face Athena. “Rest up, sister,” he spoke, the sun emblem on his chiton clasp shining in the sunlight. “-and drink the nectar, you need it,” he finished, walking out of the room and down the infirmary corridor, leaving Athena alone, privy to her own thoughts.

She picked up the glass, placing the smooth wooden straw to her lips as she gulped down the sweet nectar, for it tasted like nothing else ever divinely made, dare most say, more addictive and divine than Dionysus’s own godly wine. 

It had been a few hours since her uncle had arrived gravely injured to the infirmary, the rays of sunlight through the window becoming dimmer, indicating sunset. Athena read a book, her eyes patiently focused on the words, although it caused her mental strain. Headaches, a new feature of her Father’s divine punishment.

Her divine ears perked up as she heard groaning from beside her. The dark-haired figure beside her opened their deep blue eyes, pushing themselves up with a hiss of pain to sit back-facing the infirmary pillows of the bed. Her uncle was alive, and clearly awake, and pained. 

He clutched his stomach, the bandages over them wrapping tightly around his torso. He hissed as his own hand wrapped around his stomach, the bandages unmoving on his body. 

He blinked, taking in his surroundings as his eyes scanned the unfamiliar infirmary room, until they landed on Athena herself. 

“Uncle,” she greeted, closing her book and placing it on the side table. 

“Athena–where-?” he responded, clearly confused, if not surprised at the appearance of his niece, of whom had her right arm in a large wrap of bandages, scars covering every inch of visible skin, bandages over the others. A hand flew up to his lower chest, hissing at the pain moving brought him. “Right, that.”

“That?” Athena questioned, raising an eyebrow. 

“I was. . .injured,” Poseidon stated,, avoiding facing Athena, looking her in the eyes as shame echoed in his body language. 

“No doubt,” Athena responded effortlessly. “But to whom caused your injury remains a mystery to be solved.”

“It is none of your concern, niece,” Poseidon admonished.

“On the contrary,” Athena stated blankly. “Considering whoever managed to bring you to your knees and stab you with your own weapon, it could be a threat to all of Olympus.”

Poseidon seemed surprised at first at how Athena knew what had stabbed him, but it quickly faded away to but a feeling of irking. But Poseidon knew better not to question his niece, the goddess of wisdom itself, further than he already had.

“I got into a fight, and I began with the upper hand in my own domain,” Poseidon started, his voice without waver. “Until my. . .opponent used one of Aeolus’s wind bags, releasing a storm of my own creation to be able to battle me, tying the bag to the back of his chiton.”

Now this surprised Athena. Why in Gaia’s name would Aeolus give out one of their precious wind bags to someone to beat Poseidon? And even if they didn’t know it was Poseidon, shouldn’t they have been wiser than to give one of their wind bags to someone? 

But alas, wisdom itself was Athena’s domain, not the wind god’s. 

“My opponent. . .he fought me with a simple sword, but somehow wielded the power of a god, able to defeat me using whoever’s power he had taken, sending the full force of power through. . .five-hundred vengeful spirits, knocking me down onto a small cluster of uneven rocks,” he continued, causing Athena’s eyes to widen. 

Of course a minor god couldn’t have beaten her uncle, that would be both improbable and impossible. But someone wielding the power of a god, a seemingly powerful god, from her uncle’s description, could surely stand a chance. 

“Then how did they get a grasp on your own trident, Uncle?” Athena questioned, noticing a gaping hole in the story her uncle was telling her. 

“Once I had been knocked down, it occurred to my. . .opponent that my storm had been released, leaving them unable to depart,” he continued, a lump rising in his throat as his voice filled with more and more rage. “So he told me to call off the storm, and when I refused, what did he do, you ask? He picked up my trident from where it had dropped. . .and proceeded to repeatedly stab me with it, while shouting.”

This, to Athena, meant many things. One, her uncle wasn’t as strong as she had previously believed him to be. Two, that whoever had the gall to fight him, had beaten him with his own weapon. And three, that her uncle was still withholding information from her on the matter.

“And how did you survive then? How did he stop?” she asked, eyes narrowed.

Poseidon stayed silent for but a moment before speaking. “I told him I’d stop the storm and allow him to go where he needed as he pleased,” he answered. 

Athena could tell he was still hiding something. Lying by omission. 

“And who exactly fought you–and won?” Athena importuned, face as emotionless as she could manage it. She cut him off before he spoke again. “-and if you dare say that ‘it does not concern me,’ it concerns the safety of Olympus, ergo, in turn, concerning me, Uncle.”

Her uncle was silent for many minutes before interrupting the tense silence. “A mortal man.”

“A mortal man?” The words blurted out of Athena’s mouth before she could think properly. 

“A mortal king, who caught me off guard,” Poseidon attempted to justify, but to no avail. 

Athena could perhaps imagine a monster or a god of equal caliber challenging her uncle, but a mortal man? Even if it was a mortal king, his opponent had still been mortal, and he had lost to a mortal.

“Who, precisely, of the mortal kings beat you, Uncle?” she asked, using a tone that left no room for argument.

Poseidon gritted his teeth, aware that he had been checkmated by his own blood. “You might know him as your own student, Athena,” Poseidon answered, disgust clear in his expression.”

Athena’s eyes widened once more. “Odysseus of Ithaca,” she murmured. How long it has been, old friend? Her thoughts asked traitorously.

It was clear Poseidon was embarrassed, both his ego and his pride wounded from the loss to the mortal king of Ithaca, to Athena’s own student. 

Although Athena hadn’t spoken with her student since their argument over a decade prior, but she couldn’t have been more proud of him.

“Pussy,” she thought aloud, the person in question being her own uncle. 

“What did you just call me?” Poseidon demanded, hands curling into fists. He scowled, the pain in his ribs increasing as his anger increased. Deep down, he knew Athena was right, and that there was no way to fight her at this stage. “I am no pu–”

Instead of cowering, Athena chose to stand her ground. To fight in favor of her old friend. “You lost to a mortal king, Uncle. A mortal. You have lost your touch.” She dared to utter the final words, well aware of her uncle’s bitter wrath. 

Poseidon’s expression changed to one of anger. “Why you little–!” 

“That is enough, Uncle,” a newer voice interrupted. 

Apollo. 

“You are not to strain your injury, so until your injuries are fully healed, an argument turned fight is not in your best interest,” Apollo stated threateningly. “Am I clear?”

“Of course,” Poseidon responded, not wishing to irk his own nephew, the one who had chosen to heal him with his divine gift. To anger Apollo in a part of his own domain would not be wise of him, Athena was sure of it. 

“Rest, both of you,” Apollo demanded tiredly, massaging his temples. “And don’t let me hear arguing from either of you or so help me–” His voice raised at the words, before cutting off abruptly, meeting eye contact with each of his patients before exiting the room.

Poseidon grumbled, laying down achingly back in the infirmary bed, facing away from his niece. He mumbled something so quiet, Athena herself couldn’t hear it, as he adjusted the blanket over his body. 

Athena faced away from him, smiling to herself. For she could not have been prouder of her student–no, her friend. 

Before Athena succumbed to the gift of Hypnos, she remembered how she had been visited by Ares the prior day. He had promised her that he had kept an eye on her favorite little mortal. 

“Don’t worry sis, I’ll take good care of your favorite little mortal. Don’t you worry!”

She should’ve been wary of her brother’s enthusiasm.

Athena never expected Ares to help her, because of their due past. But despite their well established rivalry, he cared enough to help her friend. That alone, made her smile warmly, something she had not done for anyone in mere centuries, as she drifted off to Hypnos’s divine rest. 

Tag list: (none yet, but let me know if you’d like to be added!)

[reinedeslys-central]

more!! again!! for the nico after blood of olympus fic!! actually I thought of this while writing the last one but I just finished it.

His elbows buckle and he lets himself fall into Will, snorting at his theatrical groan under the weight. They lay there for a second until Will shoves him gently, and Nico lets him manoeuvre them into a more comfortable position.

"Hi," he whispers, moving a curl away from his cheek. The greenish tint of the loft window casts a weird shadow over Will's face.

"Hey yourself," Will murmurs back, winking.

Nico rolls his eyes. "You look like Apollo when you do that. Please stop." Will squawks in protest.

"I do not! Also, since when do you remember what Apollo looks like? Actually, no, don't answer that, you can't bring up my dad while we're in bed, Nico, why would you do this to me?"

Now it's Nico's turn to sputter and whack Will in the chest - getting another dramatic oof and a laugh in return - before turning around to face Hazel's bed. He's not sure when he'll ever be able to sleep facing the wall. Will can't do it either.

As Will's arms curl around his waist and draw him back against him, just like they did back in the infirmary that one day, he thinks maybe he'd be okay trying that with him sometime. One day, in a house with gates, no longer wary of monsters.

Will noses the back of his neck, causing him to twitch. "What is it?"

Will's answering smile presses through the rough cotton of his t-shirt. "Nothing, sunshine."

Nico frowns under the covers. "Hey, what do you think of houses with gates?" He whispers.

"Gates? Well, it'd be safer, I guess, but we'd lose the neighbours coming over -"

"As if you want to see random people at the door anyway. What if they're monsters?"

"Oh, come on, darlin', I'm from Austin. Of course I gotta keep space for the neighbours to come knocking."

"…Fences? Actually, hey, why'd you assume I was talking about us? Obviously - Obviously I was talking about random. Random houses. For architecture reasons."

Will muffles his laugh into the back of his neck, again. "Oh, my bad. And I'm only here because you ripped a stitch on the lava wall yesterday."

Nico feels his ears warm.

"Shut up."

"I didn't say anything."

"..Still."

Will reels him in closer until his back hits his chest and he can press a soft peck to Nico's still-red ears. "I think a fence is a great idea, by the way. We could ask Hazel for help with some ward stones too, like you have in the cabin. Gotta make sure we've got at least one window and standing space in every direction, though, or at least in the east, because you know my dad would sulk if he didn't get to scream me awake in the morning."

Nico's blush gets worse.

"Now who's talking about your dad in bed?" He gives up on pretending. Will sees him through every time, anyway. "Also, shrines, obviously, and we need a spot to stargaze."

"Yeah, shrines, obviously. Maybe just yours, mine, and Lady Hestia's though, or else everyone else is gonna get pissy."

Nico barks out a laugh like it's shocked out of him. "Pissy? Don't let them hear you say that."

Will holds him tighter and settles against the pillows. "Sure thing, sunshine. Now can we sleep?"

"Yeah, yeah."

It's not long after that that Will's breath evens out behind him, his muscles untensing. Nico knows he's got a few minutes yet, so he thinks.

Today was…. good.

Today was nice. Normal, even. Just a day of camp schedules, working in the infirmary, an admittedly short campfire, and this. No monsters, and no mistakes. No deaths, but..

Unbidden, the moments in the infirmary come to mind. He thinks of helping Will scrub in for his one surgery of the day, a kid that had gotten parts of an arrow stuck in their leg a week ago and hadn't noticed til yesterday. He thinks of yesterday during capture-the-flag, stepping in and desperately trying to copy what he'd watched Will do, because Lydia was hanging crooked from a tree and there was no one else around but him-

He thinks of Patroclus tying the straps of Achilles' armour, watching his lover sleep peacefully. He thinks of what Connor had told him about at the campfire weeks ago, of Silena Beauregard taking on a drakon when Clarisse declared the Ares Cabin wouldn't be fighting.

He thinks he might understand.

Lydia wasn't the same (thank the gods), but if there was something to be done that only Will could do right, yet couldn't, and the only way Nico could take up his mantle would be to die trying - then, yeah. He'd do whatever it would take for these kids. To do what Will would do. He's gone to Tartarus already, hasn't he? At worst, he'd try his best and greet his father early if he failed to survive. Nico could even give Charon a tip on the way in for the hell of it, why not?

If there is a luxury that comes from being a child of Hades, after all, it is that dying is not the thing that scares him.

There's a brazier still lit outside the window. Its glow falls in slits across their bed.

Will grumbles, pushing his feet forward until their ankles are wound together. The sheets shift.

Nico smiles into the dark, into the chirping of crickets and the soft glow of the fireflies out the window, and falls asleep.

more for this fic:

scene 0 - prologue-ish scene 1 - the library of social awkwardness or here (or in my heart, 'kidney function is not a right, it's a privilege' lol)

general writing directory

also lmk if you want more lore. I am so down to talk about this fic + the worldbuilding ideas I have for it in the notes it is unreal

[your-local-glowstick]

✨INTRODUCTION POST✨

Hi, I'm Will Solace, Son Of Apollo, Head Counsellor of The Apollo Cabin, and Head Medic!

Here are my friends/boyfriend!

Leo Valdez- @r3pairb0y - he's pretty cool, I don't know him that well, but he's in the infirmary a lot (I'm side eyeing you Valdez). He's one of the main Seven from the Prophecy, and he helped take down Gaia in an explosion! We all thought he was dead for a while, which wasn't very nice, Valdez! Son of Hephaestus!

Nico di Angelo- @victory-of-the-angels - I love him! he's my boyfriend, my everything. He travelled through Tartarus and was captured by the twin giants, but luckily the Seven managed to rescue him before anything seriously bad could happen. He still has PTSD and a little bit of internalised homophobia, but we're working on it with Mr. D. He travelled with Reyna halfway across the world the deliver the Athena Parthenos, which ended up saving the day. he has some eating problems, but as said, we're working on it. He is prince of the Underworld and the Ghost King! Son of Hades!

Hazel Levesque-no roleplayer yet- She's so sweet. She's Nico's sister, and is possibly one of the nicest people I've ever met. That being said, do not underestimate her. she is feisty. Mess with anyone she loves, you have it coming for you. She is the daughter of Pluto, and is currently dating Frank Zhang, son of Mars. She is very powerful, despite what others might say. One of the Seven, I love her <3

Frank Zhang-no roleplayer yet- He's very nice. I'm not all that close to him, but he does hand out with Hazel a lot and seems very chill. Son of Mars, Praetor of The Twelfth Legion, Member Of The Seven. He is currently dating Hazel, they're very sweet together. He's like a giant teddy bear, the softie!

Annabeth Chase- @annie-beth - She's scary. I'm joking haha, she's one of the nicest people you'll meet. Just don't get on her bad side! Member of The Seven, Daughter of Athena, and Architecture of Olympus! During the first war, Annie took a knife for her soon-to-be-boyfriend Percy Jackson, and I helped heal her. She is one of the toughest people I know, she made it through Tartarus!

Percy Jackson- @s0n-of-the-sea - Son of Poseidon, Hero Of Olympus, Member of the Seven, Tartarus survivor, he's got it all! Percy is the chillest person ever, but man is he a DEMON on the battle field. After all he's been through, he just wants to be a normal teenager. I get it. I mean, he fell into hell for his girlfriend. dam dude. I don't see much of him and Annabeth since they're currently at New Rome University!

Piper McClean- @glammerqueen - I love her personality, I love her style, I love everything about her. Daughter of Aphrodite and Member of the Seven! She is a beast with charm speak. She has some kind of unbreakable bond with Leo, and I'm not even sure if they know what their relationship is at this point. She was dating Jason Grace, but they broke up on good terms. She is currently dating a girl names Shel! I don't know much about her, but she seems so nice.

Jason Grace- @lightning-boi-superman -Son of Jupiter, Member of the Seven! I honestly haven't spent that much time with him, but I know Nico loves him like a brother. He and Leo seem... very close (in love) but we don't talk about it :3

Reyna Avila Ramirez Arellano- @the-daughter-of-bellona - I don't know her very well, but from what I've heard she's awesome! She was there for Nico through some of his darkest moments, and I love her for that.

Grover Underwood- @undxrwxxd - he's pretty cool! once again, don't know him that well, but I know he's very close with Percy and Annabeth. He helped a lot during the first war, and is currently dating a tree nymph named Juniper! He gave Nico and I a pep talk before we went to Tartarus, which was nice <3

That's all for now folks!

(OOC: I will add people as they come and their blogs, if any of you want to join, just dm me or @r3pairb0y )

[anotheroceanid]

I wrote this sleepy, directly on my laptop and barely revised it, please have it in mind!!!

Your treat. @perseabeth @orchardsong

For context to everyone else, this is a unfinished one shot I was writing for the WTHB series, but I literally just made two scenes and called it a day and went back to the main story lol

Her eyes are only slightly closed as she enjoys the sun kisses on her skin. Percy tries not too look flushed while she help one of the new campers on how to hold a sword properly.

‘Are you alright, Miss Jackson?’ The little girl asks. ‘You’re red.’

Percy is obviously failing.

‘It’s never this hot in Atlantis. I think I got used to weather there.’

‘Oh, there must be nice. I don’t like when it’s hot.’

      It would be a surprise if she did. The was Boreas’ daughter. And Canadian.

‘It is. But I like warmth, too.’

For a second, Percy was silently judged by a seven-year-old girl, ‘Well, guess even the Hero of Olympus can have poor taste. If the barrier controls the weather, couldn’t someone turn on it’s AC?’

Percy wheezed as she heard an indignant "Hum!" near her ear. The sun tickled her cheeks, and Percy smiled softly.

‘Hey, do not wave the sword so… fast…’ She mumbled as one of Hermes’ boy threw his weapon a few metres away. Thank gods it was a wooden sword, because it hit right in the head of one of Demeter’s children, who immediately started screaming.

‘Keep going, Anne, you’re doing fine.’ Percy praised the daughter of Boreas as she ran the other way, where the six-year-old boy cried. ‘Chill, chill. It’s alright!’ She bent down to be at the child's height, so she could verify it’s head. ‘It’s alright, right?’ She whispered as low as possible, so the young campers that reunited around her wouldn’t listen.

‘Yup. Just good old drama.’ Apollo answered. Only her could hear him.

‘Great! I mean, hey it’s not bad, you know? You’re tough!’ Percy cheered, and the six-year-old seemed sceptical. ‘It’s just a little ouchie, isn’t it?’

‘No!’ He claimed loudly, hand dramatically placed on his head. ‘It’s a big ouchie! Kiss it!’

Percy blinked for a moment. Oh, this is cute. ‘Of course, of course.’ She said, as she kissed his forehead. ‘Is it better now or do you think you need to go to the infirmary get some syrup!’

‘I’m fine!’ He cheered. ‘No syrup, it’s disgusting.’

‘Okay, no syrup then.’ Percy laughed, and she heard Apollo giggling too. ‘Now get your sword and go back to practice, okay? Nico, would you assist me, please?’

On a distant corner, wearing a black hiking jacket that would make Percy melt in that heat, Nico Di Angelo frowned. ‘Am I not, already?’

‘The idea is to, for example, not let people accidentally throw swords on each other.’ Percy mouthed.

‘I don’t like kids.’

‘Then why did you offer help, Mr Retiree?’

‘Technically, I could be.’ Nico said.

‘Technically, he could be.’ Apollo muttered, at the exact same moment.

‘… and it was either that or helping with the strawberries. The dryads say I’m terrible with plants.’ The dryads are correct, Percy silently agreed, but said nothing. ‘But I’m terrible with kids too, so…’

‘You’re not terrible with kids. They are very welcoming if you try.’ Percy encouraged, though Nico didn’t seem convinced. ‘For cookies, then?’

Nico seemed to ponder for a moment. ‘Don’t draw skulls on them this time.’ He turned, moving toward the same son of Hermes, who looked at Nico like he was the coolest guy alive.

‘That’s a low blow, love.’ Apollo whispered, and she felt his fingertips stroking her neck. She felt a shiver down her spine. ‘Can I get cookies too?’

‘Stop that!’ She mumbled, trying to move her lips as little as possible. She had gotten pretty good at it recently; though it was particularly easier when she was surrounded by little kids she towered over. But poor Nico… Well, he was too overwhelmed by the speed the son of Hermes talked to pay attention to her. If his eyes grow any bigger, they’d fall out of his face.

Apollo chuckled. ‘Took me a lot of effort to get here. If anything, it’s your fault I turned touchy.’

Percy knew she was red like a tomato. ‘You’ve always been touchy.’

‘Unfortunately, I tend to get worse with time.’ He kissed one of Percy’s shoulders. ‘Will you come to Delos with me for the weekend?’

She bit her lip, knowing she should say no. However, it was not like Percy had anything to do at camp in the weekend. The friends that’d be at camp would be engaging in activities Percy had been avoiding and the other friends… Well, not her age. Percy didn’t see herself spending the entire weekend playing UNO with Cabin 7 and Nico, either.

Technically, she could go to Atlantis. There was no downside to that, even if sometimes Triton could be a bit overwhelming as an older brother. Then, father allowed Triton to be overwhelming, so she blamed it on him. Besides that, it was always fun in Atlantis…

‘Or…’ Percy started, ignoring completely her previous line of thoughts. ‘You could come to my mother’s apartment.’ Apollo got silent. Percy blushed. ‘Unless it’s something terribly offensive to invite a god to your mother’s apartment for a weekend. In this case, ignore what I just said.’

‘Do you want me to meet your mom?’ He whispered softly, and Percy felt his breath near her neck.

‘You know my mom.’ She answered, exasperated at the closeness. ‘Dude, I really need to focus on not letting a kid not pluck an eye from another.’

He ignored what she just said and kept going. ‘I saw your mom. Once. That didn’t count.’

‘You talked to her.’

‘Artemis talked to her. I just stood there and nodded trying to not look stupid.’

This was Percy’s time to chuckle. ‘Artemis would argue you failed.’

‘I would argue I failed that day! I’m pretty sure I was smiling a little too much. Didn’t she spoke to you about me?’

‘Nope. Not a word.’ Mostly because Percy blackout-ed a few hours after the Laurel Wreath Ceremony and didn’t remember most of it, because no one thought about telling her the free drinks weren’t alcohol free. Bless Rhode for helping her and keeping it a secret.

‘See? I caused a bad impression.’ He professed dramatically. ‘You cannot ask me to just show up in your door one random weekend and then meet your mom, I need planning time. I need to gather gifts, and maybe write a poem or a music to her.’

Percy pictured Apollo showing up at their door with a millionaire collection of jewellery and the next Billboard Hot 100 number one hit. That wasn’t the way Percy wanted her mom and Paul to meet her boyfriend. Boyfriend? Can she call him that? Secret boyfriend? Friend-with-Benefits who walk holding hands in Paris? Friends’ brother who she kissed indiscriminately when they were left alone? Friends’ dad she got cosy with? Percy never brought up the topic, and sincerely she was a bit nervous to do so, but she wondered what she should call it.

Not that she would be announcing it to anyone any time soon. Or ever. Well, ever was a long time to count with, but she’s not spilling the tea the next girls’ night.

‘My mom won’t be there.’ Percy revealed, licking her lips timidly. ‘She and Paul are visiting his family, so… We would be alone.’

Which wasn’t the case in Delos.

His mom was there. Leto was amazing, but that all knowing grin she would give them made her feel scandalous. Additionally, Percy would like to have a moment with her Call-It-What-You-Want without Thalia, Artemis and Hermes playing UNO on the living room. It was not as if she intended doing anything, Percy simply didn’t want that feeling of being watched.

‘Oh…’ Apollo sang devilishly. ‘This won’t help me cause a good first impression.’ He laughed, obviously finding fun in it all. ‘Which isn’t fair, considering my whole family adores you. And don’t dare arguing with me, you know it’s true. I’m talking about the side of the family that matters, by the way.’

They remained quiet for a second, then Percy spoke. ‘So, is it no?’

‘It’s an absolute "I’ll be there!", I’m just thinking how I’ll make it up for your mom… Any idea?’

‘My mom is chill; she won’t hate you for coming over when she’s out. Mom always says I can bring in, hm… ‘Boys, but he didn’t need to know that. ‘…friends.’

Silence, again. ‘Her favourite singer is definitely getting a Grammy next year.’

‘Her favourite singer is Freddie Mercury.’

‘Your family definitely hates me, my love…’

Mr D almost cries when she tells him and Chiron that she is leaving to spend the weekend "with her mom". Well, he didn’t cry. But he cried out a ‘You’re leaving me alone with them?!’ As he pointed his finger to a group of toddler demigods who played in the carpet. Apparently, they invaded Big House and refused to get out without a fight.

Chiron also gave her a pleading look as one of the toddlers pulled his tail. ‘Is it urgent?’ He asks, silently agreeing with Mr D.

‘I mean, she’s happy that I improved with the whole thing with the war, so we wanted to spend some time together, you know? Like the old times. Words like "gatekeeper" and "fight" were used against my father.’ Being around Hermes made lie much easier for her. Percy wondered it was some sort of blessing or if she was just learning it by familiarity.

‘Can’t you go next week?’ Mr D asked, as he moved his hands to flout a pointy pen out of one of the toddlers’ hands. The poor kid started to cry. ‘Or next month? Your mom won’t run away, Penny Johnson!’

She held a laughter as she watched Mr D pick up the child and try desperately to stop the monstrous tantrum over a pen. ‘They won’t grow in a week.’ She retorted, smiling devilishly.

‘Maybe we should get a permission on Olympus to age every kid to twelve as soon as they cross the barrier for the first time.’ Mr D suggested, looking rather serious.

‘You’re not doing that!’ She and Chiron rushed to suppress that absurd idea before the other gods heard it.

‘Oh, as if I didn’t suffer enough…’ Dionysus sighed. ‘How people do it without drinking?’

‘Preferably, everyone should do it without drinking.’ Percy frowned. ‘Give me the child, would you?’ She stepped in and stole away the toddler from his arms. He didn’t even fret from releasing them.

Percy rocked the toddler cheerfully, and they quickly forget why they were crying.

‘Just take them with you! Actually, why don’t you keep them?’ He suggested, as if it was the most brilliant thought someone could ever come out with.

‘I’m seventeen!’ She remembered to him.

‘Back on my days, you’d have a litter of your own already… Your mother will be there, won’t she?’ Oh, yeah, that… ‘A souvenir from Camp Half-Blood, isn’t it nice?’

Without even thinking twice, Percy come up with an answer. ‘It’s not her job to take care of other people’s kids.’

‘And is it mine?’ Dionysus pointed out to himself, and as Chiron and Percy opened their mouths to answer, with a finger raised, he added, ‘It’s a rhetoric question.’

‘So, here’s my rhetoric answer: tire them until they sleep and pray it last for a few hours. That was what mom did to me when I was this age.’

She put the toddler on the ground, and it ran to hug Mr D legs, who shrieked like he had just been electrocuted.

Percy grinned and left the Big House.

It’s almost night. She needs a bath. Camp got so crowded ever since the end of the war that the days felt longer with all the additional classes, they needed to encompass all different age ranges; not that the veterans would use it as an excuse to skip the underground parties. They were more frequent when Pollux was around. However, he had been pre-emptively sent to a spiritual retreat with the Maenads. A fancy way to say he’s temporary exiled from Camp, because apparently some gods (Athena) didn’t like the "bad influence" he had on their children (Annabeth). The Gods weren’t thinking straight if they thought teenagers would let his legacy go to waste.

The Stolls were getting a lot of money with the parties. With the brilliant mind of Leo Valdez, one of the campers that arrived last winter, they were literally keep the Underground alive. Percy suspected that Mr D knew but kept quiet about it because he didn’t want to spoil everyone’s fun—especially when this fun kept his domain so close to him.

Percy watched as some nymphs giggled as they whispered to each other. The nature spirits were having the time of their lives. Good for them. Still, she had other plans.

From the Aphrodite Cabin, Drew waved to her, moving her lips asking if she was coming. Percy mouthed a "No, visiting mom", to what the daughter of Aphrodite made a pout. "Next one, then?" Percy read on her lips, to what Percy laughed and shrugged.

[apollo-god-of-prophecy]

Update:

I regret so much right now.

I told will to stop flirting WHILE WORKING. and he just got so much worse. I'd rather endure a Sunday dinner on mt Olympus than share an infirmary shift with will and Nico in the same vicinity. Please I beg you, make them stop, NONE OF US CAN FOCUS ON HEALING WHILE THEY ARE BEING FLIRTY IN THE MOST SICKENING WAY!

-Kasey, the one Apollo kid willing to move to Alaska

@will-solace-aaaaa Son, what do you have to say for yourself?

[bl4ckr0se-3006]

Looking for a PJO themed Rp. My plots are an ancient and this would be Solangelo (me as Nico) or a double up Solangelo and Percabeth (me as Nico and Annabeth) for some of these. I’ll label which once’s I can use as double ups and any differences from the normal 1x1 for a double up as some would differ in double up format.

My full list of plots and Aus:

Plots:

1: Nico runs from Camp Blood again, Shadow Traveling directly to Washington DC, where he winds up passing out in an alleyway. Worried Chiron ends up 3 separate Search parties. Eventually Nico is unconscious by the banks of the the River Styx having gone from the Washington DC to the underworld, he’s taken back to the camp, where it is discovered he was put into a death trance after crossing the boundary between the mortal realm and the Underworld so ends up having to spend a significant amour of time in the infirmary as a result.

2: Nico falls ill, leading to needing to spend a significant time in the camp infirmary. Once recovered he ends up spending a significant amount of time in cabin 13, alone unless needed for training or to eat, though this isn’t unusual for the son of Hades. (This one we can find a work around for - maybe he falls for Will while in the infirmary.)

Aus:

1: Werewolf/Vampire: For this Au I would be looking to play Nico as the vampire, son of Hades who after getting scratched by a werewolf - like how he scratched by a werewolf in Blood of Olympus end up becoming part werewolf also. For this I am looking for someone to play Will, I don’t mind whether he’s played as the part werewolf, part demigod son of Apollo, or the part vampire son of Apollo Apologies in advance at the complexity of Nico’s situation, it made sense in my head. (Double up with Percabeth, Percy would be an part merman part demigod - Annabeth would just simply be a Demigod if it’s a double up.)

2: School

For this particular Au the characters would still be demigods. This is something else I am dying to Rp, and it also works for a double up plot between Percabeth and Solangelo. The plotline for this is as follows: After Sally enrolls Nico into school, the Emo and clearly highly alternative, Italian son of Hades ends up falling hard for Will Solace, Apollo’s son, who as well as being a major geek happens to both help out in the school infirmary and plays sports. The son of Hades is bullied at school and really nervous to tell Will how he feels. (Double up with Percabeth - Percy and Annabeth would be already dating for this one if it’s a double up)

3: Nico is deaf - he’d have been born deaf. He’d be able to lip read, and he would have hearing aids, he would also know both ASL (American Sign Language) and LIS ) Italian Sign Language. I want to apply this to this to like a College Au though or we could apply this to my school Au. (Double up with Percabeth - like with the pure School Au Percy and Annabeth would be already dating for this one if it’s a double up.)

My headcannons for Nico:

Trigger Warning: Mentions mental illness (both canon and headcannon), Attempted murder vs Manslaughter (canon)

1. Due of his ADHD Nico constantly twists his skull ring, while it’s still on his finger. The ring is super important to him because it was a gift from his sister Bianca.

2. Another ADHD habit Nico displays is messing around with the his Hades Mythomagic figure - this is another important gift he from his sister. For Nico Mythomagic is a way to keep himself occupied and almost a way to counter his ADHD, despite his low attention span he can play the game for hours because it’s like a distraction for him.

3 He’s very introverted and super shy. This didn’t really come across when he had Bianca because she made him feel brave, though after Bianca joined the Hunters of Artemis it started to show through and after Bianca died and he started to withdraw into himself he kind of became lost.

4. Despite the fact he actually started to burn his Mythomagic cards as of Battle of the Labyrinth - after he accepted the the Hades Figure which cost Bianca her life, he kept it along with the other figures and was convinced into keeping some of the cards and while he won’t admit it he still plays the game, making those who know this about him swear not to tell anyone.

5 Nico’s hair is long, just about long enough to tie back and he likes it this way. When she was alive Bianca used to do Nico’s hair, she stopped shortly before the joining the Hunters of Artemis.

6. He’s actually a major emo and a huge Greek Mythology geek.

7. He secretly has a pet Cerberus puppy, which he calls Seb, who was born from the original Cerberus and Percy’s pet Hellhound Mrs. O’Leary which actually therefore makes Seb half Hellhound, half Cerberus.

8. Aside from the PTSD he suffers from canonically in the books he also suffers from Schizophrenia due to his powers, - it’s like how Greek half-bloods have ADHD and Dyslexia in order to Understand Ancient Greek and survive mo stars: Nico, has a Schizophrenia in order to be able yo communicate with the dead and see them - this is in addition to the canon PTSD he experiences in the books and top of that he also suffers from depression and anxiety, the depression was bought on by the deaths of his sister and mother and worsened by the deaths he experienced after going to Camp Half-blood and Camp Jupiter, e.g. Jason’s death.

9. He is autistic and he stims - kind of related to the headcannon No.1, the twisting of the ring, is not only an only an ADHD habit but it was also developed to train him out of other forms out of other forms of forms of stimming which he displayed when he was was younger.

10 He has an Italian accent though it only comes through when he tells people his full name. When he isn’t using his full name he just has a North American accent, which he picked up from having spent so much time in the US. He uses what would be considered a New York accent to hide his real Italian accent.

11. He lives with Percy’s family since with both his mother and Bianca gone, he had no other family except Percy and Hades.

12. He has permanent lightning scars from when Zeus attempted to kill him an Bianca when he was younger. The day his mother died, he was struck by Zeus’s lightning and nearly died himself, but was lucky enough to survive.

13. He is genderfluid, which is part of the reason he keeps his hair so long, sometimes even at shoulder length, he doesn’t really feel comfortable talking about it; though Will definitely knows this, though asside from Will he only ever told those he is most comfortable around (E.G. Percy, Piper, Leo, Jason.)

14. Since the Jar incident he has severe Claustrophobia (fear of confined spaces) and Cleithrophobia (fear of being trapped)therefore as a result both tight spaces, and especially being trapped in tight spaces trigger his PTSD and tight spaces give him full on panic attacks. He also has Merinthophobia (fear of being bound or tied up) from being held prisoner multiple times.

15. He’s had both Ombrophobia (Fear of rain) and Brontophobia (Fear of thunder and lightning) since his mother’s death.

16. He absolutely hates the Hunters of Artemis, due to what happened with his Sister Bianca. Of the Hunters he can only really stand is his cousin Thalia, he doesn’t get along with the other hunters at all and he also still bears a large grudge against his sister Bianca for deciding to join the hunters over staying with him at Camp Half-Blood.

17. Before his older sister joined the Hunters of Artemis he used to crawl into Bianca’s bed when he couldn’t sleep at night and as a result he feels more comfortable sleeping next to another person, though before he fell for Will he didn’t realize this, other than that he would sometimes crawl into Percy’s bed when at his cousin’s family’s New York apartment.

18. He had issues with both chronic pain and chronic fatigue. He wears compression gloves for the chronic pain and everyone assumed he just wears them as a fashion statement unless they already knew about his chronic pain and chronic fatigue. The pain is in his back knees and hands.

19. We all know how Will Cannonically has a sun Tatoo, we’ll hear me out Nico had several tatoos and piercings, including a star on the thumb of one of his hands, a partial skeletal hand and a winged skull on his one foot and on the other ankle as skull with barbed wire also his ears are pieced in different places. He also wear’s jewelry such as necklaces and bracelets.

20. On top of the Dyslexia and having to juggle being fluent in Italian and English as well as like all Greek demigods Ancient Greek, it just became a nightmare for him to right out his full name which I think would be Niccolò Alessandro Tommaso Di Angelo or Nicholas Alexander Thomas Di Angleo. He can totally write his name in Greek but chooses not to, favoring the nickname Nico for simplicity. Named after Saint Alexander of Bergamo and Saint Thomas Aquinas - the latter of whom he shares his birthday with.

If we Rp here i prefer to do so in blogs - as in I’ll make a side blog to use, or we can switch to Discord if you’d rather, but if Discord I prefer to use a server. I won’t respond to likes so if you’re interested actually comment or Pm me and tell me which of the plots or aus takes your fancy and if you want combine any of the ideas, or let me know you’re own ideas you want to do is you have any, also tell me if you want to do 1x1 Solangelo or a Solangelo and Percabeth Double Up. I will only play Nico and it is the double up Nico and Annabeth so please be willing to play Will and if you want to do the double then be willing to play Will and Percy. I may be flexible on plots or whatever but I have string muse preferences on who I play and how I play them so please fully read through my headcannons for Nico in this post because that’s how I prefer to play him.

[shitty-silly-idea-archive]

Start of a little fic idea I've had :3 I'm thinking if I should make Poseidon actually wake up with his arm bitten off like when Kronos ate him or if I should just make him a child with both his arms intact. I like the angsty ideas I have for if I make him wake up without that arm. Technically this doesn't make any fucking sense, but it's self indulgence and I'm probs not gonna post this anywhere else so ya.

| It's not often that a God gets hurt, even less often that they get hurt this badly and by a godly weapon at that. The last instance had happened a forgotten time ago, which means there's not much known about how to treat a God after being so severely injured. So, after getting Poseidon back to Olympus, no thanks to any of the Gods, not even his own brothers, Apollo did all in his might to treat him. Now, Poseidon still lays unconscious in the sun gods infirmary.

It's not surprising that he'd take longer to recover, Athena is at the infirmary still as well after Zeus had struck her, but she's at least conscious. The other gods had at first not paid him much mind, even snickered while passing him, now they all had differing responses to his slow paced healing. Some passed by his room without a glance, maybe a bad feeling in their chest. Others checked up on him regularly, partly out of concern and out of curiosity. At one point Apollo had just left him to treat any other patient that got to his infirmary and to keep healing Athena, the one who's at least conscious.

Tonight was one of these nights, the god of the sun nowhere to be seen, most likely in his sleeping quarters like the rest of the gods besides Athena, who lays in the room down the hall from Poseidon. Athena had been watching the ceiling, deep in thought thinking about Odysseus, how wrong it all went when she left and how she could fix their friendship, now that he's back in ithaca. The Man has gone through so much, would he even call her a friend anymore? Would he tell his family to never pray to her again? Would he ever forgive her for leaving him to his own devices in the middle of his journey home?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud crash. It sounded like it came from further down the hall, maybe some other patient woke up and wanted to walk out, pushing over some medical equipment in the process. Apollo wouldn't be pleased with that but it wasn't any of her concern, not worth her attention. What did catch her attention though, was the shrill cry that sounded after the crash.

A very childlike cry.

That got Athena to her feet, she was still sore all over and it hurt, but she couldn't ignore it. Why would there be a child in Olympus? In the infirmary? The last time she checked, there were no children anywhere on Olympus.

The Godess stormed out of her room, not caring how loud the door hit the wall, most occupants of the infirmary were probably woken up by the cries, Apollo himself was probably awoken too. As she strode down the corridor, scanning every door, every inch of the hallway for evidence of the sounds source, she catches a faint, sweet smell.

Ichor.

It's coming from Poseidon's room.

'okay, he probably woke up, tried to get up and opened some wound.' Athena reasoned with herself, but that didn't explain the cries that are seemingly also coming from Poseidon's room. Why would the god have a child in his room?

Athena gently opened the door, not wanting to hit the already fucked over god with the door, and glanced inside.

The first emotion on her face was confusion, the cries were drowned out by her thoughts. Why is there a child on the floor? Where's Poseidon? How did this child even get here? Her thoughts were again interrupted by the child's loud sob as they tried to get up, failing to do so and fall back down on their arm.

Or more like the still bleeding stump of their arm.|

[tsarisfanfiction]

The Absent Thorn

Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians Rating: Teen Genre: Angst/Hurt/Comfort Characters: Clarisse, Michael, Kayla, Will Michael had been a persistent thorn in her side since she was nine. He couldn't just be gone. Clarisse&Michael's relationship intrigues me a lot; I really love these two short-tempered idiots - here we're playing with, of course, the aftermath of Manhattan. Warning for blood/injury, and some canon divergence, I suppose. References to canonical character death.

There were bodies.

It wasn’t Clarisse’s first time seeing bodies.  There had been bodies last summer, crumpled and broken left in the wake of giants and monsters.  There had been bodies since then, and some bodies before, the life of a demigod never guaranteed.

It was the first time she had seen so many, and the guilt gnawed at her.  Your fault, a voice told her snidely.  If you hadn’t been such a fucking coward and actually fought from the start you could have saved some of them.

The voice wasn’t holding back its scathing remarks, and Clarisse didn’t miss how similar it was to a certain son of Apollo’s.  Then again, there were only so many people that had ever dared call her a coward to her face.

There was a reason she’d been staying away from the area of Olympus quarantined as the triage centre and infirmary.  She couldn’t avoid him forever, knew she was once again being that same fucking coward by staying away from him, but she couldn’t deal with another blown up argument.  Not right now.

They’d screwed that up once, already, in the wake of Beckendorf’s death, making Silena feel even worse (and she was certain the asshole had never bothered to apologise to her), and even though it had turned out it was Silena’s fault, the stupid, stupid girl, Clarisse couldn’t screw up like that again.

Not when she was facing so many shrouds, covering so many bodies.

It was a colourful view.  Someone had thought to organise them by cabin, and Clarisse remembered all the makings of the shrouds, pre-battle, but seeing them here, used in a gradient of green-red-gold-orange-pink-grey, most with shapes underneath them, hurt.

There were fourteen shrouds laid out over bodies, and two golden shrouds neatly folded next to the gold-covered bodies as though whoever had organised the dead was expecting two more Apollo kids to not make it.

She’d said she hoped they all died.  She remembered spitting it in Michael’s face, pride and anger warring within and resulting in a screaming match even when he surrendered the chariot, because it was obvious he was only doing it to guilt her into joining the war.

She’d seen eleven Apollo kids board the bus to leave camp.  There were four bodies covered in golden shrouds, and the two empty, waiting, shrouds beside them.

Clarisse couldn’t say she hadn’t meant it, at the time, because she had, but there was no word to describe just how much she wished she hadn’t.  Not now she was faced with the reality, of at least fourteen dead campers and over a third (over half, if she counted the empty shrouds) of the entire Apollo cabin were within that number.

The fact that she had ever meant it when she said she hoped they died, that this happened, made her feel sick.

She couldn’t avoid Michael forever, but for just a while longer, while the Apollo kids were still working tirelessly, no doubt exhausted from a three-day long siege but doing their duties regardless, she could keep her distance and put off the scathing (deserved) words he no doubt had in store for her.

Clarisse ignored the fact that she hadn’t seen Michael once.  She’d barely caught a glimpse of any of the Apollo kids, maybe thought she’d heard Will shouting for help at some point, since Silena and the drakon (and the fucking Hyperborean giant).  But Michael was a midget and none of the bodies underneath golden shrouds were that small, so he had to be around, somewhere, even if he was a shit healer.

She ignored the bodiless shrouds, too.

There were too many bodies.  She knew who lay under the red Ares shrouds, that Silena was the pink shroud, that in another room there was a grey shroud covering Luke’s body, but she didn’t know who lay beneath the others.

She didn’t want to know, for all that she’d been logging the faces she’d seen scurrying around, keeping a subconscious tally of who was still alive, who hadn’t died in the war, but she knew she’d find out, eventually.

Find out who might have survived, if she’d let her cabin fight from the start.

The gold shrouds, outnumbering any other colour – even the grey of the combined Hermes and unclaimed campers – taunted her.  Haunted her.

Clarisse didn’t know why she’d ended up in the shroud room, anyway.  She spun on her heel, abruptly putting the dead behind her, to be faced later, at the funeral when she’d learn who had ended the war in Elysium, and almost ran over the small girl just entering the room.

She was one of the newest Apollo kids, because of fucking course she was.  Clarisse didn’t know the brat well, only that she was young, a skilled archer amongst even her own cabin despite her age, and prone to following Michael around with stars in her eyes.

Her eyes were red rimmed, rubbed raw with beads of drying salt on her cheeks that glistened in the light of Olympus, but the glare she sent Clarisse was no less vicious for it.

“I hate you,” Kayla said, a heartfelt sting in her words despite the way her voice wobbled, lips quivering in the tell-tale warning sign of imminent tears.  “I hate you.”  Her hands, devoid of grime but speckled with blood that she’d obviously missed while cleaning up from her last patient, tightened their grip on the bow she carried, drawing Clarisse’s attention to it.

It wasn’t unusual to see Kayla with a bow – it was more unusual to see her without – but the bow in her hands wasn’t the green one Clarisse had come to associate with the young daughter of Apollo in the scant months since she’d arrived at camp.  It was far more familiar than that, one that she’d seen almost every day at camp for the past seven years – small, for a bow, in the same way its owner was small, for a teenage boy.

Clarisse had never seen Michael let anyone else touch his bow, not even his own siblings – not even Lee, before he’d been killed last year.  Certainly not since he’d learnt to shoot it properly, which had taken him no time at all.

Seeing it in Kayla’s hands now, in the shroud room of all places, made something in Clarisse go suddenly cold.  Her mind unwelcomely reminded her that she hadn’t heard Michael’s voice once, not even to shout at patients that he thought were demanding too much of Will.

None of the bodies were small enough to be Michael, but the bodiless golden shrouds demanded her attention again.

“Where is he?” Clarisse demanded, knowing it wasn’t a fair question to shove on the youngest Apollo kid, but unable to stop herself from suddenly needing to know the answer.

Light blue, bloodshot eyes, fixed her with a death glare even as they started to fill with water for what was clearly not the first time.  That in itself was an answer, but Clarisse wouldn’t accept it.  Couldn’t accept it.

Michael had been an incessant, tiny but persistent, thorn in her side since she was nine.  There were very few other campers that had been around camp as long as they had been, now.  She’d never liked him – fought with him more often than not – but he’d always been there.

He couldn’t be fucking gone.

“Where is he?” she demanded again, taking a step towards the younger – much younger, too young to be delivering shitty news but after seeing his bow Clarisse needed to know – girl and towering over her.

“Why do you care?” Kayla snapped back with a thick voice that wobbled.  “You t-told him to die!”  She drew herself up to her full height – taller than Michael, but still not even coming up to Clarisse’s chin – and her knuckles went white around the bow.  “He f-fell and all we f-found was his b-bow and he’s dead and you told him to d-die!” she shrieked.

Behind Clarisse, the empty golden shrouds mocked her.  Not waiting for dying kids to finish dying, but representing the bodiless dead.

Fuck.

“Where?” she snapped, cutting through Kayla’s sobs.  The younger girl stalked past her without answering, and Clarisse looked over her shoulder to see her kneeling next to one of the empty shrouds, carefully lifting up one corner of the fabric to slip the bow beneath it.  “Fucking where, Kayla?”

Kayla rubbed at her face, smearing more salt crystals onto her skin where they glistened amongst her freckles.  “None of your business,” she mumbled, and it wasn’t, Clarisse knew she was the last person that had a right to know where Michael had fallen, but that didn’t stop her from needing to know.  She whirled back around and picked up the younger girl by the scruff of her tattered camp shirt.

“Where?” she snarled.  Kayla scrabbled at her grip, short nails digging into Clarisse’s skin.  It didn’t hurt, not compared to the pain Clarisse was used to, but it snagged her attention and she abruptly realised what she was doing.

“Shit.”  She let Kayla go, and the younger girl kicked at her shin viciously, face screwed up and still glistening from the tears.

“The bridge,” Kayla spat.  “I hate that bridge.”

She stormed out the door.

Which fucking bridge?  Manhattan was surrounded by the things, and the siege had moved to the foot of the Empire State Building by the time Silena had led the Ares cabin into battle.  Clarisse hadn’t known they’d fought on the bridges at all, let alone which one the Apollo cabin had fought on.

She turned away from the shrouds, fourteen bodies, one empty, and one now covering a bow in lieu of its owner, and followed Kayla out the door.

The daughter of Apollo had disappeared, no doubt back into the infirmary, which Clarisse still didn’t want to go into, but if it was where she was going to get answers-

She smacked straight into Malcolm.

“Clarisse?”

Clarisse almost shoved him out of the way, before recognition kicked in.  Malcolm wasn’t a head counsellor, but he was the undisputed second in command of the Athena cabin, which meant he knew shit.

“Which bridge were the Apollo cabin on?” she demanded.  He blinked owlishly.

“What?  I mean, Williamsburg Bridge, but why-”

Clarisse pushed past him without a second thought.

She wasn’t a healer, wasn’t a fixer, didn’t have a single use in the post-war cooldown where everything was already broken and didn’t need breaking further.  Ever since the fighting had finished, she’d been a loose end that couldn’t do anything useful.

Not that she’d been of much use during the war, either.

The flying chariot – the same flying chariot that had sparked her latest, worst, and final, spat with Michael – was where she’d left it outside the building in the mortal world.  The pegasi munching on a crate of apples that had to have been stolen for them by one of the Hermes kids let themselves be harnessed back without much complaint, and then Clarisse was in the sky.

She couldn’t heal anyone, and things were far past the point of being able to be fixed.

But maybe the guilt in her chest would loosen, just a little, if Michael got a proper funeral – and for a proper funeral, they needed his body.

She couldn’t heal anyone, couldn’t fix anything, but maybe she could at least retrieve a body.

Williamsburg Bridge clearly didn’t qualify as a bridge anymore.  Clarisse gaped as it came into view below her – or rather, what was left of it.  The suspension cables still ran across the width of the East River, but the middle of the bridge was nothing more than rubble piled high in the water.

Six golden shrouds suddenly made horrific sense.  What the Hades had caused that?

Mortals milled about, awoken from their enforced sleep, making noises of horror, distress and disbelief.  Police and paramedics called for order, clearly trying to get the mortals under control above the wailing and screaming.

Clarisse ignored them and set the chariot down near to the jagged edge of what was once a complete bridge.  She didn’t know what the Mist showed the mortals, and she didn’t care as long as they didn’t mess with the chariot as she jumped out and elbowed her way to the edge of the bridge, where it fell away in a jagged mess of cables and metal.

The scale of destruction was ridiculous, and Michael was tiny.  Looking at the wreckage now, it was easy to see why the Apollo kids hadn’t been able to find him – but also why they were so sure that he was dead.  It seemed impossible that anyone could have survived a fall into something like that.

Clarisse set her shoulders and turned away from the gaping hole in the middle of the bridge, stalking back past mortals and ignoring anyone that asked her if she was okay – no, she fucking wasn’t okay, but the mortals wouldn’t understand and she had a task to do.  She had no idea where Michael had fallen from – although she could take a guess, looking up at the suspension cables.  He’d always liked perching on tree branches off the ground – the only way he could ever be taller than someone – and with no trees, the cables seemed a likely substitute.

The cables were the only thing still intact, though, and Michael could have been on any part of it when he fell.  Clarisse glared up at them as she walked, willing them to give her some sort of clue, some sign that a demigod had been perching on them.

Her feet connected with something on the ground and she stumbled, eyes flitting down to see what had tripped her.

It was an arm.

Just an arm, bloodied and torn at the bicep, punctures that could only be teeth marks in the flesh.  Massive ones, the sort that Mrs O’Leary left in the chunks of meat they threw for her sometimes.

The skin, even bruised and battered and sallow, was too pale to be Michael’s, and it was missing the tell-tale paler patch where Michael’s bracer almost always sat on his forearm – or where any right-handed archer’s bracer sat.  Clarisse recalled the other bodiless golden shroud, the other representation of a dead Apollo kid with no body, and grimaced.

There weren’t many left-handed archers in the camp, and Michael wasn’t the only loud Apollo kid whose voice she hadn’t heard in Olympus.  Fuck, Nathan had been a right pain in the ass himself, but he hadn’t deserved to be torn apart by hellhounds.

She knelt down and picked it up, forcing herself to look around in case there was anything else left of the kid.  It was stiff and cold in her hands, detached (killed) some time ago, and Clarisse tore off the bottom of her camp t-shirt to wrap it in.  There was nothing else human nearby, only dark stains on the remains of the bridge and the splinters of a bow.  She picked those up, too, and trudged back to the chariot to wedge them at the front, where they wouldn’t fall out on take-off.

Searching the whole debris area by hand wasn’t going to work.  There was too much of it, and she had no idea where Michael could be.  Had he fallen when the bridge collapsed, or before?  Had the fighting continued after the collapse and he fell then?

All Clarisse knew for certain was that Michael would never have been anywhere except the front line.  He was an asshole and a bastard but he wasn’t a coward, and would never let anything get near his siblings without getting in the way despite being the smallest in the cabin – the smallest in camp, most of the time.

But where had the front line been, when he fell?

She hopped into the chariot again, urging the pegasi into the sky before banking them around in a low fly-by of the debris.  Up close, it looked even worse; gnarled and twisted metal interlocked and reaching skyward.  Some of it looked stained as well, and no amount of hoping it was just rust could shake the thought that some of it was blood.

Alongside Luke the bodies of the demigods that had followed Kronos and died doing it had also been laid, covered in shrouds because the dead were the dead no matter the side of the war they’d fought on.  Clarisse suspected several of them had started their journey to the Underworld here, in the twisted spires of metal of a broken bridge.

She wasn’t looking for where bodies had laid before they’d been retrieved.  She was looking for a body that was still there, hiding in death the same way he’d been too fucking good at in life (Clarisse had been shot many, many times in Capture the Flag by fucking red-and-gold fletched arrows out of seemingly nowhere, and sometimes outside of Capture the Flag, too).

The first fly-past yielded no sign, and Clarisse scowled as she brought the chariot around again, pulling the pegasi to fly as slowly as they could on the next pass, lower and closer to the wreckage until some spurs of metal threatened to snag the chariot as it flew by.

Nothing.

She banked around for a third pass, low enough to skim the water.  The pegasi were straining, throwing their heads in protest as they tried to go faster, tried to leap up into the sky, but Clarisse wouldn’t let them.  They snorted at her, but she held firm, kept looking at the wreckage, knowing it was like looking for a miniscule needle in a giant haystack, knowing that the surviving Apollo kids had failed so Michael had to be hard to spot (and pushing away the thoughts that maybe he was in the middle of the twisted metal, surrounded on all sides and impossible to retrieve until the mortals cleared up the wreckage – if they even bothered searching through it rather than sending it all straight into a metal recycling plant to be crushed.  The thought made Clarisse ill and she forced herself to look harder, because that couldn’t be allowed to happen.)

Something caught her eye.

She didn’t know what it was, a flash too fast to focus, but it had stood out to her and that was enough to direct the chariot back around, landing it on the bank of the river and throwing herself at the wreckage, scrambling up and over metal.  It cut into her hands, more scratches to go with the ones she’d picked up during her brief section of fighting in the war, but she ignored them as she clambered forwards, towards where she’d seen something.

Maybe it was nothing.  Maybe it was just a trick of the light, maybe Apollo was punishing her for her cowardice and the deaths of his children by sending her on a false trail, but Clarisse had to check it out, just in case it wasn’t.  Just in case that something had been someone, had been a sign of the body she was looking for.

It was a hand.

Sticking out from a gap between twisted metals was a hand, limp and lifeless, and Clarisse forced herself not to get too convinced, even if it was closer to Michael’s tanned skin than Nathan’s pale.

Even if it was somewhere she could never have spotted without looking from the surface of the river, where the Apollo kids wouldn’t have been able to get.

Inside the gap was a mop of black hair, and Clarisse lunged for it, kneeling on a faux plateau of metal in front of the gap and reaching an arm inside to push the hair out of the attached face.

His eyes were closed, but she could never mistake Michael’s scrunched up, ferrety features for anyone else.

She’d found him.

Half his face was coated in blood, bringing up memories of Lee’s caved-in skull from the previous summer, but unlike Lee his head still seemed to be the right shape.

“Dammit,” she muttered, fingers curling in sticky black hair until her hand had formed an involuntary fist.  “You weren’t supposed to actually die, you bastard.”  Her grip made his head shift a little, and the metal made a low moan, reminding her that finding him had just been the first step.

Now she had to get the body back to Olympus.

Her fingers wouldn’t unfurl from his hair, so she used her other hand to trace where his visible hand disappeared into the shadows, finding the kink of the elbow and reaching where it met his body.  It felt almost like he was in a hollow of some sort, or perhaps there was a sheet of metal slanting from his body to leave a pocket for his arm.  Clarisse couldn’t tell, but it made it easier to force her hand under Michael’s armpit.

There was another groan as she started to pull and she paused, eyeing the metal in trepidation.  If it toppled forwards…

She looked back, behind her, gauging how far back she could scramble quickly and if that was going to be far enough to not get buried if it did.

The groan came again, and beneath her hands, Michael’s body shifted.  Shit, had she already pushed the metal too far?

The logical part of her brain told her to go, that Michael was dead and wouldn’t be killed by collapsing metal but she would, but instead of obeying that, her hand tightened its grip under Michael’s arm and-

“-uck.”

Clarisse froze.

That wasn’t the sound of metal threatening to fall.  That was a voice.  Weak, but unmistakable.

Beneath her hands, Michael’s body shifted again, and there was another groan, but eyelids twitched and peeled open and-

“Fuck,” Michael rasped.

It was quiet, hoarse and parched, but it was his voice, and his brown eyes that were open and staring blankly – until they weren’t and Clarisse was still frozen, still couldn’t move as they followed her arm up to her shoulder and then his head tilted beneath her grip until he was looking at her, not quite the laser focus she was used to but obviously aware nonetheless.

“���risse?”

Clarisse’s mouth went dry and she felt faint as her hands finally fell limp and slipped away from him, fingers snagging where his hair had snarled around them.  “-chael?” she rasped, the first syllable of his name failing to sound.

He was alive?

It didn’t seem possible; she’d (finally) joined the battle two days ago and the destruction of the bridge had to have been before that because she hadn’t known about any bridge fighting, so Michael had to have fallen at least two days ago, if not three – maybe even four, fuck.  True, he’d always healed fast – and been a smug shit about it – but with no food or water?

Fresh water, anyway.  The surrounding metal was damp, and Michael’s hair hadn’t been dry, either.

“Y’see someone else ‘ere?” he demanded.  The weakness of his voice didn’t stop the sharpness of the words.  “Fuck.”  His eyes scrunched up and a hiss escaped from between his teeth.

“I heard you were dead,” she said, swallowing back the instinct to say something a lot more antagonistic.  Too many shrouds lined up in her minds’ eye, deaths she hadn’t been there to at least try and prevent because her feud with Michael had resulted in her being the exact coward he’d called her.

“S’rry to fucking disappoint,” he muttered, starting to open his eyes fully again before stopping abruptly with a wince.  “You here to watch it happen… or something?”

That hurt, a stabbing sensation in her chest, but Clarisse realised she couldn’t blame him for it, not after everything she’d said and done – and not done.  Michael had no reason to believe she’d do anything except leave him to die-

Fuck, was he dying?  She couldn’t see enough of him to see how badly he was hurt, if he was fatally injured and beyond saving.

Silena’s melted, ruined face crept into her vision and she blinked it away, feeling her eyes dampen.

“No,” Clarisse said, feeling the word tremble as she said it and hoping Michael couldn’t hear that.  She grit her teeth and tried again.  “No.  I’m here to get your short ass to Olympus where it’s supposed to be, you bastard.”

He made a spluttering sound that ended in a wet cough – had he laughed?

“You’re one to talk,” he rasped, “about where people are supposed to be.”  Michael’s sharp tongue, at least, was still operating just fine.  “Where the fuck were you… when we were doing all the ass kicking.”  He winced again, his head jerking a little as though it was a full-body reaction.  “Fuck, is it over?”

“Yeah,” she said, and this time her voice stayed steady.  “The war’s over.  We- You won.”

Michael’s head lolled sideways slightly, closer to where it had been when she’d found him.  “Good.”  His voice was softer, a little more distant, and it felt like the Hyperborean Giant had blasted her chest all over again because Michael never just did that, not talking with her.

“Which means I am getting your short ass to Olympus where it’s supposed to be,” she repeated, more harshly than she meant to.  “Kayla-”

Michael’s head jerked.  “Kayla’s alive?” he interrupted, his brown eyes finding Clarisse’s again.  His pupils were a bit too big, and rather belatedly Clarisse realised the blood half covering his face probably meant he had a head injury, and a concussion to go with it.

“Yeah,” Clarisse told him.  “Your little shadow yelled in my face earlier.”

Michael’s lips twitched.  “Thank the gods,” he breathed.  “She got knocked off.  I thought…”

Shit, it hadn’t occurred to Clarisse that Michael hadn’t been the first Apollo kid to fall, that some of those golden shrouds might’ve been deaths he’d already known about.  Suddenly she regretted not going into the infirmary, if only so she could tell him who was still alive.

The only thing she could do was get Michael back there herself, so he could see for his own eyes.  “And she thinks you’re dead,” she said instead.  “So get out of there and prove her wrong.”

Clarisse didn’t wait for an answer before finding Michael’s wrist again, only for it to weakly pull back.  He couldn’t overpower her even when they were both at full strength, and she frowned when he rasped, “stop.”

“You can’t stay here,” she snapped.  “This metal won’t hold for fucking ever, and the mortals are swarming the remains of the bridge.  It’s me or them, if they even spot you before dragging this shit off to the compactor.”

“I know,” Michael muttered, wincing again.  “But, fuck, you can’t just pull-”  He hissed again.  “I’m pinned.”

“Shit.”  Clarisse tried to peer into the gap, but couldn’t see much past Michael’s head.  “Where?”

“Right arm’s crushed,” Michael reported, and the pain in his voice was suddenly impossible to miss.  “And something in my right leg.”

Clarisse eyed the snarled mess of metal above Michael’s small gap, trying to judge what she could move, but there was so much of it, and she couldn’t see what would and wouldn’t bring the whole stack down on top of both of them.

She crouched back down to get a better look inside the gap, tracing Michael’s arm back to his shoulder again.  This time, she could feel him trembling slightly, and the slight rise and fall of his body as he breathed.

“Got ambrosia?” he asked her, and she shook her head.  She’d been looking for a dead body, she hadn’t been prepared for an alive one.  “Fuck.  Should be some in my pants but-”

Clarisse didn’t wait for him to finish talking, shimmying down onto her stomach so she could reach further into the gap before tracing his torso down.  He gave a cut-off hiss but didn’t protest; no doubt he knew better than she did that without the godly food, moving him with the injuries he’d listed ran a high chance of finishing him off.  Her fingers found the tattered-feeling quiver strap over his hips, then the line of his legs, thankfully curving around rather than going further back so she could still reach.

She found a pocket with something in it just as the fabric of his pants began to get sticky.  Michael let out a whimper and she saw his eyes glisten as she fumbled with the opening before slipping her fingers inside to grasp the familiar feeling of something wrapped to keep it clean.

Withdrawing it was much faster than finding it, and she hurriedly unwrapped the squished package, relieved when the ambrosia still looked fresh despite the wrappings taking on a suspiciously red tinge.

There was no point being coy about it; she broke off a large chunk and held it to Michael’s mouth.  He snapped it out of her fingers without protest and swallowed the dose with another wince.  As soon as her hand was empty, she wrapped the rest of the ambrosia and put it in her own pocket before drawing her knife.

Michael eyed it dubiously, but Clarisse ignored him as she set her hand once again in search of his leg, this time seeking whatever was causing the blood loss.

“Bitch,” he hissed faintly as her questing fingers found the stickiness again.  “Could’ve waited for the ambrosia to- ssssssshit – kick in.”  It didn’t feel like it was bleeding freely; everything was sticky rather than liquid.  Still, that was small mercies when her hand found the wound itself and discovered that Michael’s leg wasn’t just pinned but impaled.

He cursed her out more as she left his leg to find his right arm and assess how crushed it was.  The first probing contact had him letting out a high-pitched shout, and Clarisse grit her teeth, wishing she knew more about first aid.

“What do I need to do?” she asked, because Michael was never the Apollo kid anyone asked for medical help, but he was still an Apollo kid.

“Got a fucking torniquet?” he huffed.  In answer, Clarisse tore off her t-shirt and slashed it apart with her knife.

“This will have to do,” she said, twisting several orange strips together.  Michael grit his teeth.

“Make it fucking tight,” he said.  “Just below my shoulder.”

Twisting fabric around Michael’s upper arm was awkward when she couldn’t see it and there was barely any space between it and the surrounding metal, but Clarisse persisted, tying her makeshift torniquet as tight as it would go and ignoring the pained noises each tightening twist provoked from Michael.  Then she reached to put another one around his thigh, before bundling the remainder of her t-shirt around the metal stuck through his leg.

She was somewhat surprised Michael stayed conscious through it all, especially when she took her knife to the metal and forced Celestial bronze to saw through mortal steel, cutting the impaling spur free of the metal it was entangled with.  By the time she was done, her hands were red with Michael’s blood, and her shoulders were aching from keeping her arms extended so far for so long.

“Any more reasons I can’t pull you out?” she asked him, pushing herself back into a crouch and slipping her knife back into its sheath.

“Can’ tell,” Michael mumbled.  His eyes were closed, and his trembling had worsened considerably.  “Don’ think so.”

“Then it’s time to get you out of there,” Clarisse decided, hooking her hands under his shoulders.  “Don’t pass out on me.”

“No fuckin’ promises.”

There wasn’t much she could do except pull and hope.  Experimental tugs gave some movement in his trapped arm – and some short screams – so Clarisse let go of his shoulder to grip his arm directly, bracing against the metal as best she could as she tried to worm the limb free.  Almost immediately, Michael fell completely limp, and Clarisse alternated cursing the bridge and praying to the gods – her father, Apollo – as she tugged.

It eventually came loose with a concerning clatter of metal, and Clarisse didn’t let herself think as she grabbed Michael’s shoulders again and hauled.  Freed from the metal ensnaring him, and too small to be heavy even as a dead-weight, his body shifted easily and Clarisse almost overbalanced backwards as he spilled out of the gap and into her chest.

The gap shuddered as Michael’s trailing foot left it, and Clarisse all but threw him over her shoulder as she scrambled away.  Blood trickled down her back and metal bit into her free hand as she almost lost her balance.

Behind her, metal shrieked and began to collapse, and Clarisse whistled.

It was a whistle Silena had taught her, loud and sharp, and it brought a fresh wave of grief over her even as she jumped off of the rapidly shifting metal and landed heavily in the chariot as the pegasi pulled it past her.

Michael groaned and Clarisse dropped to one knee, grabbing for the flapping reins with one hand while she let him roll off her shoulder and into a slumped heap by her feet.  In the light, it was immediately obvious that his condition was bad.

Blood coated his leg and arm as well as his face.  What little of his skin could be seen without blood was pale, and he was still shaking like a leaf.  His eyes were closed but with the whimpers he was making Clarisse wasn’t sure how unconscious he was.

“Don’t you fucking die now,” she told him, shifting her stance until he was slumped between the front of the chariot and her legs, safe from the possibility of falling out mid-flight.  He didn’t reply, but she didn’t need one.

A tug on the reins – too much, too harsh, Silena would tell her off for not treating the pegasi better but Clarisse was in a hurry – and the chariot accelerated.  Forces pushed Michael against her shins, and she didn’t know if he was intentionally curling around her legs or if that was subconscious, but her stance was stable enough to be unmoved as the pegasi threw back their heads and strained their wings.

The distance between the bridge wreckage and the Empire State Building passed in the blink of an eye, and Clarisse let the chariot land roughly, mortals jumping out of the way of whatever they saw with outraged shrieks.  She ignored them as she scooped Michael off of the chariot floor, grabbing the bundle of torn t-shirt that wrapped around the sallow arm almost as an afterthought, and bolted for the elevators.

The security guard hanging out awkwardly with some mortals she vaguely recognised as having somehow taken part in the battle looked at her but didn’t make a move to stop her.  Perhaps he realised it would be futile.

Clarisse didn’t care as long as he didn’t get in her way.

The elevator up to Olympus played an irritating, lacklustre version of Stayin’ Alive, somehow melancholy instead of the upbeat peppiness the song usually came with, and Clarisse alternated between glaring at the doors, where the noise seemed to be coming from, and glancing down at Michael in her arms.  His face was twitching slightly, making him seem even more ferret-like than usual, but his eyes showed no sign of cracking open and his arm and leg looked bad in the bright lightning.

Was he dying?  She didn’t know enough first aid to tell.

“Dammit,” she muttered, glaring up at the ceiling.  “Doesn’t this junk go any fucking faster?”

It felt like an eternity before the floor came to a stop and the doors opened with a cheery little ding that sounded completely at odds with the mournful rendition of Stayin’ Alive.  Clarisse was all too happy to leave both firmly behind her as she threw herself into a run across the white and gold rubble of Olympus’ entrance, clinging tightly to the body in her arms as she rushed past occasional startled nymphs and minor gods on a bee-line for the room they’d set aside as an infirmary.

She almost ran face-first into a god as he appeared out of nowhere in front of her.

“Woah!  Easy there!” Apollo exclaimed, catching her shoulder with one hand and forcing her to a stop.  He wasn’t wearing his stupidly bright golden armour any more, but the gold chiton wasn’t much less eye-searing, and he still had golden aviators covering his eyes.

“Lord Apollo,” she gasped, snapping up straight, shoulder blades shifting back as far as they could go with her arms full.

“I’ll take him,” the god said, extending a hand towards Michael – his son, Clarisse realised, this was Michael’s father and while he hadn’t snatched Michael out of her arms, it was clear that it was an order, not a request.

Still, “he’s still alive,” she found herself saying.  “The infirmary-”

“Is overrun and exhausted,” Apollo cut her off, a serious edge to his voice that didn’t seem to fit with her previous experiences with the god.  “They can’t help him now.  Give him to me.”

Could she trust Apollo with his son?  Her own father certainly wouldn’t help her if she was that injured, gods didn’t help mortals.  But the Apollo cabin were definitely exhausted by now, the god – their father – would be right about that.

And Apollo was the god of healing.  That was why Apollo cabin were the camp healers, after all.

She held Michael out to his father.  “Help him,” she said, but it came out more a plea than an order.

His slight weight, even as a dead weight, vanished from her arms and then Michael was laying limply in Apollo’s hold instead.  “That’s what I do,” the god said, flashing her a grin made up of too-white teeth.  It didn’t last long, and she sensed rather than felt his gaze landing on the wrapped bundle still in her grip.  “You also have something for Nathan’s shroud, I see,” he commented, the words jarringly light given it was his dead son’s arm.  “I’ll leave that to you.”

With that last order – and it was an order, Clarisse wasn’t stupid enough to miss when a god was telling her to do something – he vanished in a shower of sunbeams.  When the lightshow died down, there was no sign he or Michael had been there.

She stood there for a moment, staring at the empty spot.  She had no idea how bad Michael’s condition was, if he was dying or if a single touch from Apollo would be enough to fix him, and having him whisked away so abruptly left her mind churning as it tried to work out if she’d just seen Michael for the last time.

It was Apollo, she reminded herself.  He was a god, he was Michael’s father, surely he’d fix him.

She forced herself to start moving again, changing destination from the infirmary to the shroud room.  Apollo had given her an order, after all, and it was something she could actually do.

She couldn’t heal, couldn’t fix things, but she could bring something back for the funeral.

There was more than just Nathan’s arm in the wrappings.  She knelt down beside the empty shroud (and it was empty, unlike the one next to it with the tell-tale bow shape beneath it that didn’t need to be there, but Clarisse was not on the shortlist of one allowed to touch the bow; she’d let Kayla retrieve it, if she got the news about Michael) and let not just the bitten-off arm, but also the bow fragments she’d gathered spill out of the bundle to be covered by the golden cloth.

It wasn’t a full body, but it was something, at least.

This time she didn’t run into anyone when she turned to leave, and with a deep breath she headed for the infirmary.  She had siblings in there that she ought to check in on, and now she’d seen Michael, the Apollo cabin didn’t seem quite so daunting to face.

The look on Will’s tired, drawn face when she pushed open the door was pure despair.

“What the Hades, Clarisse?” he asked, dragging himself up from where he’d been perching on the edge of a table.  He looked paler than Michael, cheeks drawn in and possibly closer to death than most of his patients, but that didn’t stop him trying to stride over to her, interrupted by staggers and stumbles.

Clarisse grabbed his shoulders and stopped him from face-planting either the floor or her chest.  “That’s my line, Solace,” she snapped back.  “Sit your ass down before you fall down.”

“You’re bleeding,” he protested, blue eyes slightly hazy but wide as they stared at her bare arms.  Clarisse followed his gaze and bit back a curse.

Her front and arms were covered in blood – all of it Michael’s, because her only wounds were small nicks from the metal on her hands.  Her sports bra, on full display after sacrificing the entirety of her t-shirt to try and stop Michael bleeding to death, had gained a few shades and a reddish hue.

“It’s not mine,” she told him firmly.

“Then whose?” he demanded, trying to resist as she pushed him back to sit down on a nearby piece of rubble but failing miserably.  He was too tired, and she was stronger than him, anyway.

Michael’s name lingered on the tip of her tongue but she swallowed it down, not confident enough that Apollo would save him to raise Will’s hopes while there was the chance they could be dashed again.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, instead, a lie because it absolutely mattered, but Will didn’t need to know that.

Will didn’t look like he could handle anything more, right then.

“Go the fuck to sleep,” she told him, turning her back and looking out across the splay of injured and exhausted demigods.

Like Apollo had said, she couldn’t see a single Apollo kid that wasn’t completely exhausted.  Will was the only one that was still on his feet – fuck, he was the oldest, Clarisse realised, finally catching sight of the four other Apollo kids that added up to the original total of eleven when combined with the shrouds.  Kayla, face still crusted with dried tears, was curled up with Austin in a corner, both of them with their eyes closed.  Sam was splayed out on the floor, next to a makeshift bed that held an equally splayed Alice, who had a blood-soaked gauze on her face.  They, too, were both completely out for the count.

Fuck, none of the five surviving Apollo kids were even fourteen.  Nathan had been fifteen, and Robyn and Joy had been similar.  Sally and Elias had both been around the same age as Will, from what Clarisse recalled of them.

Michael was almost seventeen, a few months younger than her and so much older than his surviving siblings.

She looked back at Will, whose eyes had slipped shut.  They needed him.  Clarisse might have never got on with Michael, but she knew the same wasn’t true for his siblings.

He’d been a little shit from the moment he arrived at camp, but when it came to his siblings – especially younger ones – he’d always supported them.  Clarisse didn’t want to think about how much they might have fallen apart when they’d lost him.

There was nothing she could do for the exhausted Apollo kids.  She didn’t want to leave the infirmary now that she had finally entered it, though, and Sherman and Ellis were on neighbouring blankets, both covered in bandages but watching her with half-lidded eyes.

The Apollo cabin weren’t the only ones that needed their head counsellor, and Clarisse strode over to her brothers.

They were grieving, too, the loss of Mark and Louisa a shock none of them wanted to face for all they’d known it was likely that not all of their cabin would survive if they marched to war (it was one of the reasons Clarisse had held her cabin back, too selfish to risk their lives even though it was what they were born for), and when they finally fell asleep she moved on to other injured siblings.

Hours passed.  The Apollo kids slowly started coming around again, and Will banished her briefly to at least clean up and stop getting more blood in my infirmary while Kayla fixed her with a furious glare that Clarisse accepted silently.  Chris appeared with an arm in a sling and fresh – clearly stolen – supplies and tried to get her to talk about “whatever’s bothering you,” but she shrugged him off.

The look he gave her told her the topic was only temporarily dropped, and that he would be pressing later.

Slowly, the hubbub of the infirmary started up, Apollo kids dragging themselves into new rounds of checking on the wounded.  Even Alice pulled herself up and about, despite looking like she should be in one of the beds herself, and Clarisse found herself roped into fetch and carry as Will decided if she was going to hang around the infirmary, she could be useful.

She couldn’t heal, but she could at least follow basic orders.  The help was the least the Apollo kids deserved from her.

Apollo’s sudden arrival brought the infirmary to a shocked halt.  He was still wearing his ridiculous gold shades, but that wasn’t what froze everyone in place.  Nor was the garish, gold-studded choker he’d gained since she last saw him, accentuating the otherwise plain white top and designer jeans he was rocking as though he’d come straight from a catwalk.

It was the short figure standing next to him, one arm tucked in a sling while the other had a crutch jammed under it.  He looked much better than the last time Clarisse had seen him, no sign of the blood that had covered his face and limbs, and brown eyes alert as they scanned the room.  His camp t-shirt and pants were still torn and stained, but he looked truly alive again.

“Michael!” Kayla shrieked, a green-and-orange blur as she launched herself at him.  How he didn’t fall over when she cannonballed into him, Clarisse had no idea.

The other Apollo kids started moving towards him, too, their faces a spectrum of disbelieving relief.

“You’re alive,” Will whispered, as though saying it too loudly would make it not true.

Michael’s eyes met Clarisse’s, just for a brief moment but long enough to be deliberate, before looking at his younger brother.

“Yeah,” he said, a ghost of a smile on his lips, although Clarisse saw him glance around again, gaze settling on each of his living siblings for a fraction of a second before his shoulders slumped a little as he clearly looked for a sixth and realised there wasn’t one.  “Sorry it took me so long to get here.”

He didn’t say anything about Clarisse, but that was fine, because Clarisse realised she didn’t want people to know.  They still weren’t friends, hunting down his dead body and finding his living body instead didn’t change that, and the idea of getting credited with saving him when if it wasn’t for her and her cowardice there might have been a few less shrouds over bodies in another room on Olympus right then felt viscerally wrong.

The five younger kids finished descending on him, burying him out of sight, and bringing attention to the fact that Apollo had disappeared as quickly as he’d appeared.  Clarisse decided it was time to leave the infirmary.

It wasn’t like there was much she could do there, anyway, and the Apollo kids had their own head counsellor to keep them from overworking themselves, now.

Somehow, Clarisse caught Michael’s eye again as she slipped out past the cabin seven huddle.  He still didn’t say anything, but his sharp gaze softened slightly and he gave an almost imperceptible nod.  It was the closest thing to a thank you she’d ever got from him – closer than anything she ever expected to get, or wanted.

She nodded back, just once, and wondered if he could tell that she was glad that he hadn’t been dead after all, that he was still alive to be a continuous thorn in her side the same way he’d been since she was nine.

Not that it mattered if he did, or at least that was what she told herself as she broke eye contact and walked away.  Their relationship wouldn’t change that easily.

Even if there was a small part of her that wished it could.

[iwannakisskissyoureyesagain]

more percy jackson headcanons, as a treat:

- will’s bi awakening was one of three things: harry styles in one direction (and he had an ipod with almost exclusively taylor swift and 1d songs downloaded on it, this totally isn’t me projecting), the baseball scene from twilight, or rodrick in diary of a wimpy kid (my boy has a type)

- inspired by the one at my school, the aphrodite cabin has a gender-affirming closet where campers can donate their clothes and trans campers can get new clothes for free

- will convinced chiron to give nico two hours of exemption from camp activities. the goal was for him to take a nap, but nico usually ends up tailing will around the infirmary or playing with/sorting his mythomagic cards on the floor of his cabin. will has long since given up trying to get nico to cooperate

- dionysus always knows which campers are queer, sometimes years before they come out. he was literally counting down the days until nico told him that he asked will to be his boyfriend

- percy has a list of every fact that annabeth has ever told him about architecture or historical monuments because he wants to memorize them all

- percy and thalia go thrifting together sometimes

- despite living in the lotus hotel and casino for like 70 years and being a huge mythomagic nerd, nico is notoriously terrible at card games no matter how many times dionysus tries to teach him. the only reason dionysus still plays with him is because he knows he’ll win, and chiron is unfortunately getting better at pinochle

- he’s scary good at most video and arcade games though. percy tried playing mario kart with him when he was home for christmas break. nico’s no longer allowed to play any video games at the jackson-blofis household for the sake of percy’s ego

- percy raised his dorm room bed and immediately had to lower it the next day because he fell out of it in the middle of the night. he’s never told annabeth because he’s too embarrassed

- the hunters of artemis have an entire horde of stray dogs that follow them around because reyna keeps adopting them

- bianca had a spice girls cd and an abba cd and would play them until they were too scratched up to keep playing. nico hated it. they’re still not really his taste in music, but he listens to them every now and then when he really misses her

- percy is neither an early bird nor a night owl. when he doesn’t have school or camp he doesn’t get up until ten, and he’s literally never seen the ball drop on new year’s eve

- the jackson-blofis family are the only mortals—besides rachel of course—allowed at camp. sally and paul always leave estelle with a babysitter (tyson) when the visit though, because they want to protect her from the mythological world as much as possible

- percy can’t carry a tune to save his life, but he’s started teaching himself guitar, and practices in the apollo cabin

- annabeth’s favorite snack is annie’s cheddar bunnies and she has a soft spot for country music

- piper and leo have matching friendship bracelets. they also have three-way ones with percy because he half-jokingly said he felt left out

- will smokes weed with drew on his (very rare) breaks from the infirmary because it helps his anxiety. they get it from the dionysus cabin and like to do it on the big house porch, but only when will’s sure nico isn’t over there because he doesn’t like the smell

- ganymede sneaks out in the middle of the night to visit percy while he’s at college, but when sally answers the door of their apartment instead, she invites him inside and the two of them talk over blue chocolate chip cookies until the sun rises and he has to return to olympus before zeus finds him missing. turns out the two of them (sadly) have a lot in common

pt. 1

[chriscrosswallflower-blog]

we're not brave, were not soldiers

chapter 3 - i may fail you

For ten days, the whole of Camp Halfblood fought to return to some semblance of normal. It took a few days for training to start back up, but when it did the kids fought with gusto, channeling their fear and anger into their weapons. Camp activities continued, even on days when there were more kids absent than present. Frustration with the Gods became oil paintings and grief became mournful songs, but they trudged on anyway.

It all fell apart on the tenth day.

One part of camp that couldn’t go back to normal was the infirmary. Once all of the critical wounds from the battle were treated, there were follow ups, PTSD attacks, and a massive wave of the flu that swept through the camp.

“It’s not so odd when you think about it. Stress brings down the immune system; I'm surprised we aren’t seeing even more illness,” Will explained to Percy during one of the ten minute breaks the hero forced the healer to take. Just long enough to scarf down the food Percy brought and make sure his siblings were fed before jumping back into the fray.

Percy had taken to bringing the Apollo cabin their evening meals when he realized he hadn’t seen the whole cabin in the dining hall together once since the battle. Usually they rotated in teams of one and two, with two being in the infirmary and one resting and taking care of the little ones. It wasn’t perfect and the three eldest Apollo campers looked constantly dead on their feet - even with the little help that Chiron was able to provide in addition to his other duties. When they weren’t working, they were researching ways to handle the wave of mental health crises that were popping up throughout camp. It was unsustainable; something was bound to give.

Percy was visiting his mom on the tenth day after the battle. He had only visited her briefly the day after the battle and he found himself aching for one of her strong, reassuring hugs. Percy tried to be there for the younger campers as much as he could, talking them through their anxiety and grief and training with them as much as he was physically able to. But the weight of his own grief was heavy–almost too much to bear. He needed his mom, needed someone to care for just him for a change. Not the hero of Olympus, but the 16 year old who had to bear more than anyone ever should. He just wished he hadn’t gone to see her on that tenth day.

When Percy arrived back at Camp Halfblood the next day, he could feel the shift in the atmosphere. Where before the camp had been bustling with a sort of forced productivity, now there was an air of hopelessness. Percy immediately made his way to the Athena cabin, fear choking him until he set eyes on Annabeth, who immediately pulled him into a desperate hug.

“An Ares kid died yesterday. Sepsis. They think she was afraid to go back to the infirmary so by the time they caught it, there was nothing they could do.” Annabeth whispered, her heart aching at the pain in her boyfriend’s eyes.

“How is everyone holding up?”

“Everyone is taking it pretty hard, especially the Ares cabin. We all thought it was over and then another one of us dies. The Apollo kids are spent; I took them dinner yesterday and Kayla looked about ready to collapse. Austin was really broken up at the shroud burning and I haven’t even seen Will since it happened.”

The two agreed to go together to bring the Apollo cabin food that night so they could try to make each of them take at least a small break. Austin greeted them at the door, almost falling into Annabeth’s arms at the sight of her understanding eyes. Meanwhile, Percy went in search of Will, knowing it could take a while to hunt down the head healer.

Eventually Percy found him tending to a girl who had a severe stomach bug. He went to call out to the boy but his words died in his throat when he caught sight of the massive bruise across his eye and cheek.

“What the hell happened?” Percy asked with more venom than intended when the healer stepped out the room, making Will flinch minutely before shooting him a rueful smile.

“Just a patient with a mean right hook, no big deal. Are those your mom’s blue cookies?” Percy handed over the food and the entire bag of cookies, shock still clouding his mind. Will shoved a cookie in his mouth before making a hurried excuse of not having time to stop at the moment before Percy regained enough of his wits to grab the boy’s wrist.

“You know you can talk to me right? I know it’s hard, but you know as well as I do that you can’t keep going like this.” Percy whispered, worrying that he pushed too hard when he saw the other boy’s jaw clench.

“I know, but I can’t now. Please?” His plea echoed with the many things neither could bear to say.

I have to take care of them before I can break

I can’t do this alone but I can’t ask for help

Please be there when I fall apart

But not yet, please not yet

“Can I at least hug you then?” Percy asked, desperate to do something. Will nodded, not trusting his voice before falling into the other boy’s arms. They both held on tightly for several minutes, finding comfort in the other’s quiet strength. Neither would ever mention the slight wet spot on their shoulders afterwards.

—

The next day Chiron held an informal meeting with all of the camp counselors and leaders to discuss camp activities in a bid to help things get back to normal. It was immediately noticeable that tensions were running high. Several other campers had tagged along just for something to do, including several Ares campers who were anxious to get out of their cabin and nearly vibrating with anger that had nowhere to go.

It all came to a head when Chiron brought up the next game of Capture the Flag, which was meant to be held the next week. A few murmurs of excitement rose up amongst the crowd before Will’s soft voice spoke up.

“Chiron, are we sure we can handle Capture the Flag so soon? The infirmary is overrun with all of the flu cases, not to mention we have a supply shortage. I don’t know if we can handle an influx of injuries right now.”

“For fucks sake, the one thing you’re useful for is running that damn infirmary and you can’t even do that right. We can’t even have a bit of fun for worry that you might let someone else die!” Sherman exploded at Will who froze, a brief flash of heartache crossing his face before being wiped away with a distant, close off expression. The older boy jumped to his feet, clenching his bruised knuckles with a rage that threatened to explode out of him.

Before he knew it, Percy was out of his seat.

“Who the hell do you think you are?!” Percy growled as the crowd came to a dead silence. There was a distant creaking sound underneath them as the pipes shuddered with anticipation.

“Will has saved nearly every one of our lives at some point. The Apollo cabin is working themselves to death trying to keep everyone alive and healthy while everyone else gets to try to go back to normal. So unless you’re doing something to help, shut the hell up and sit down!”

Sherman looked desperately at Clarisse as the power began to radiate off of Percy in waves. The older girl just smirked.

“I told you i’d kick your ass next time you said something to Solace. You’re lucky Jackson got to you before I did.” A few surprised giggles lightened the atmosphere as Sherman sat down, thoroughly chastised. Chiron cleared his throat before launching into some ideas on how to make Capture the Flag more sustainable for the infirmary and the camp as a whole. Percy managed to catch Will’s gaze and though his face was still flushed with shame, his face lit up in a small but genuine smile.

And if Percy might have threatened to beat the shit out of Sherman if he ever touched the kid again before sparring with him for the majority of the day to release both of their anger, Will never had to know

Read more on Ao3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39827199/chapters/105342594#workskin

[maxarat]

Lore dump for Ariel Brown!

His mom is a Jewish American nurse who works for the army, and his dad is Apollo. Ariel is transmasc and uses he/him pronouns, along with being asexual and gay. He has the standard ADHD and dyslexia of demigods, as well as autism and a dysautonomic disorder. Ariel tries his best to be helpful and feels horrible when he can't be for whatever reason. He loves fiercely and though he's not a great fighter he's very protective. Ariel's main weapon is a cane sword that has plot relevance. His special interest is in the Disney Renaissance.

Ariel is Nico's love interest (he was half created out of spite ngl) and has found siblinghood with Lacy, Meg, and Rachel. He's also best friends with Malcolm and Clovis! Here's him in Lemon Maker

Ariel arrived at Camp Half-Blood just a little bit after Nico, by a matter of hours. They near instantly became best friends while in the Hermes cabin

Ariel didn't stay in the Hermes cabin long and was claimed in the infirmary after a training accident. Ariel loves his siblings very much and wishes he could do everything for them

Ariel was devastated when Nico ran away. He spent every break from school at camp, and Malcolm helped with his worry quite a bit, which led to Ariel developing a crush on him between Labyrinth and the Last Olympian that doesn't go anywhere

When Nico gets captured by the giants , Ariel has a lot of dreams about it, and got a prophecy to save Nico. He was by Nico's side for most of House of Hades, including the Cupid scene, though Ariel didn't hear what Nico had to say due to passing out after trying to attack Cupid. I think this is the moment Nico realizes he likes Ariel

Ariel goes with Nico, Reyna, and Hedge in Blood of Olympus. After the battle with Gaea, Ariel has to spend almost all his time in the infirmary, but Nico often comes to visit often, which helps Ariel to realize his feelings

The infirmary on the Argo was Ariel's de facto room since he specializes in healing. He's a good archer and plays several stringed instruments, but with his disability and mom's job he's always lent towards the healing aspects of his father's powers

Ariel is scared to tell Nico how he feels because all of Apollo's lovers seem to turn into plants and Nico's surrounded by Demeter's children (Persephone, Lex, and I imagine he's friendly with the rest too). Lacy manages to convince Ariel to tell Nico, though, which he does at the beginning of ToA

Speaking of ToA, they're the Trials of Ariel Brown now. Nico lives with the Jacksons, and Ariel finds Meg McCaffrey on his way to see Nico and takes her back to camp, where Apollo, still a god, is visting Rachel. Ariel yells at him a bit for being a bad dad, so he has Ariel go save the oracles. He also goes to the Underworld along with Nico and Will in TSaTS

Nico and Ariel call each other moth and butterfly respectively, and Ariel learns Italian to talk to Nico when he's stressed

@jasontoddssuper @honeysgalaxy @insomniac-jay @theautisticcentre

[imaginechb]

ᴏɴᴇ | ꜱᴜɴꜱʜɪɴᴇ

I was seven when my mom died, and my life was turned upside down forever. Wait, can your life be turned upside down if you don't really have a life yet? Whatever.

I was seven when she was killed. And I promise I'm not going to run to the rooftops and sing fight song, but I do feel it's important you know how I got to where I am.

Let me start over. My name is Renae Gold, and I'm half Greek god.

My mother was a woman named Bella Gold, or Isabella, but nobody ever called her that. Same reason nobody really calls me Renae. It's too formal.

My mom met my dad one day when she was nineteen and playing guitar in Central Park for cash. She didn't live there, she was just traveling down the East Coast, so they met totally by chance. Or maybe he saw her from above and decided to come say hello. Anyway, one thing led to another and I came to be, but then one day just before I was born, he had to leave her. The reason why? He was the god Apollo, and he needed to be back up on Olympus, doing godly things.

My mom was angry, and rightfully so, so she named me Daphne, after the woman my father loved who turned herself into a tree just to escape him. She did this to torture him. Basically, my middle name is a giant 'screw you' to the god who broke her heart.

So that's me. Renae Daphne Gold. Call me Rae. I'm eleven years old, and one day I'm going to be a hero.

My mom was a funny woman, and really pretty too. She had long blonde hair that was always either braided or wavy, like a waterfall cascading down her back. She had blue eyes and freckles just like mine. She loved climbing trees and playing guitar, and her favorite song was Calico Skies by Paul McCartney. This must've been why dad took a liking to her.

But like I said, she died when I was seven.

I was at school when it happened, so all I know about her death is what Chiron told me. She was attacked by monsters, and I had to go with him and live at some summer camp for demigods.

Chiron is the activities director at Camp Half-Blood, my home. He basically raised me after that. Him, and of course my siblings in the Apollo cabin.

The Apollo cabin is the only home I can really remember. It's golden on the outside, and homely on the inside. It doubles as a makeshift infirmary, even though we already have an infirmary. My bunk is the comfiest thing in the world, top bunk on the left wall closest to the door. My half-siblings all live in there with me, and we're all pretty close. We sing campfire songs and hug it out, and our head counselor is Lee, and he's the coolest guy in the world.

Anyway, back to the war and stuff. Can you tell I have ADHD?

I'm basically writing this so there's a written account of what it was really like for us during the war, or for most of us anyway. Most of us didn't get to be the hero. Most of us didn't get to go on dangerous quests and save the world six times. Most of us aren't the Percy Jacksons, or the Annabeth Chases, or even the Grover Underwoods.

For most of us, it was a lot of waiting.

I suppose I should start with the field trip to Olympus. It was the winter solstice, which meant it was time for the gods to assemble and discuss things like crops, weather, death, and the latest Britney Spears album. Chiron wanted to take some of us there to see what it was like, meet some minor gods, get a taste of what they do and learn some of our history. You know, boring museum type stuff.

Chiron had been gone for a few months, away on some "official Camp Half-Blood business" with Grover the satyr, but he came back for Christmas and stuff, so he took us on the solstice trip while he could.

So we went, toured Olympus, and sat through godly meetings like the world's most uncomfortable 'bring your child to work' day. For some of us, it was our first time ever meeting our godly parents.

That trip was when Zeus's master bolt went missing.

The gods all have some sort of powers or domain they rule over. For Zeus, it's the sky. His weapon of choice is his master lightning bolt, and it had been stolen while we were there, setting this whole thing into place.

After the trip, Chiron pulled all of us into his office. At first I thought he was going to lecture us about passing notes while in godly business meetings, but he didn't. Instead, he told us about Zeus's bolt, and he asked us if any of us had taken it. He said don't be afraid, and to come forward so he could help us, but I was pretty sure anyone who came forward would get a good smiting from the gods themselves.

Nobody came forward.

After the holidays, Chiron had to go back to whatever he was doing before, and we didn't see him again until June. He left us alone with Mr. D, which I don't think I'll ever fully forgive him for.

I don't think Mr. D likes me very much. It's probably because he associates me with the Stolls, which is unfortunate for me for many reasons. Connor and Travis Stoll are my best friends, but they're always getting us into trouble that I always have to get us out of. They're sons of Hermes, and they love to prank and pickpocket, and they've even broken into Chiron's office before.

But if I'm being totally honest, I don't think Mr. D likes anyone that much.

Mr. D stands for Dionysus. Yup, the Dionysus, god of wine and all that. To make a long story short, he upset Zeus one time and Zeus made him work at Camp Half-Blood as punishment. It's totally unfair. I don't see why Dionysus crushing on Zeus's favorite wood nymph means we have to be punished for it, but that's how Zeus saw it apparently.

The time Chiron was gone was spent doing our everyday activities; cabin chores, training, lessons, the usual. I spent a lot of time swimming and playing volleyball with Connor, Annabeth Chase, a twelve year old daughter of Athena, and Luke.

Luke is a super awesome guy. He's one of the oldest counselors at camp, but he's always really nice. He's got this cool scar from a quest he went on and he's got some of the coolest stories. He's also an amazing swordsman, the best at camp.

He plays volleyball with us because he's Connor's brother, and he's close with Annabeth since they came to camp together.

Volleyball is my second favorite activity. I've played it all four years I've been at camp, and Connor likes it too, so we play a lot together.

If volleyball is my second favorite activity, my first favorite is playing guitar. I started playing right after my mom died, when I inherited her acoustic. I play my guitar at the nightly campfire, and sometimes I even write my own songs with it, but I've never played them for anybody but Connor.

Sometimes I feel like I wouldn't make it in the mortal world. As far as demigods go, I don't have the most experience. My notable skills include guitar, bracelet making, volleyball, and annoying Annabeth Chase. When I feel like this, I remind myself that Connor has made it this far, and if he can do it, I'm pretty much in the clear.

The one thing I've wanted my entire time at camp is to go on a quest. I just want one, that's all I'm asking for. Just a chance to go out there and prove that I'm not useless or dainty. I'm not just some guitar playing little girl. I'm a strong eleven year old demigod who can kick some major monster butt.

But any time a major quest comes up, it's given to the older, more experienced campers, or children of the really strong, important gods. Which doesn't exactly include my father. He's good at many things; like looking into mirrors and picking up girls, or driving them away. He isn't exactly the Olympian you'd call on for assistance in battle.

His children are considered much the same. We're the musicians and the poets, the artists of camp. We're the healers and if we're lucky, even the field medics. Every now and then you get an incredibly skilled archer such as my brother Michael. I've made it my life's mission to be as good as him one day, that way I can challenge him to a shoot-off and get to say I beat him.

My ultimate goal in life is to prove everyone wrong about Apollo kids, and prove that I can hold my own around here. One day, I'll have Clarisse shaking in her boots.

I was overjoyed when Chiron came back. I figured he'd come back and tell us some cool stories around the campfire, that he'd tell us about his mission someday. He liked to do that. Anytime he had to leave (which wasn't often), he would come back and tell us stories of what he was doing.

This time was different. When he came back, he looked somewhat relieved but at the same time, unsettled by something. Like he got through a haunted house with no jump-scares and was left waiting for one for days after. It was like the killer clowns and the ghosts all decided to follow him home.

Because soon after Chiron's return came the arrival of a kid named Percy Jackson.

Hey everybody! I'm so sorry sunshine took longer to get out than I was planning. Lots of personal stuff happened in May and June so I had lots to deal with, but here it is! If you want to read all of Sunshine at once I have a Sunshine masterlist on my main masterlist, and I will also be tagging every part with the tag 'sunshine by rae'. Thank you so much for reading! :)

Rae

[tsarinatorment]

If you really think about it both Nico and Will have a very high chance of achieving godhood cause they are both their dad’s favorite child or one of their dads favorite children. Both are very accomplished demigods that have little to no life experience in the mortal world. I think if they both got offered godhood when they were a little older and confident that they were going to be a forever couple neither would be particularly opposed to becoming gods. Will would probably be the god of surgery or something cause he’s a healer like his godly brother but he’s more of a trauma surgeon then a medicine maker. And Nico could be a stellar god of skeletons or shadows or something. Cause Summoning Skeletons is like his main attack thing.

There are two different points here, anon. Point one is could they be gods, and point two is would they want to be.

The answer to point one is certainly a resounding yes - but not because of favouritism on behalf of their parents (despite the fandom's apparent insistence to the contrary, Apollo doesn't have a favourite child; he very clearly loves them all equally if you actually pay attention to how he acts with them all. Will gets spotlighted more because he's in the books more, but the ratio of appearance to Apollo's gushing is about the same for all three kids we get to know in TOA). They are, however, both easily powerful enough to ascend - Apollo directly compares Will with Asclepius, and I don't think I need to talk about Nico any further on this topic.

The answer to point two is where I disagree with you wholeheartedly, anon. I don't think either of them would ever choose to be a god. Neither of them are actually interested in gaining more power, unlike the famous examples of Dionysus and Hercules*, and also being a god really isn't all it's cracked up to be.

For starters, these are two kids who have spent most of their preteen/teen years in the middle of various wars, in positions of responsibility that would be tough for adults to handle and should never, ever have landed on the shoulders of kids. We see this with Percy as well - he was so tired of it all by the end of the series that he's literally done his best to turn his back on all of it. Being a god is, first and foremost, a responsibility. It's a full time job with no time off, no holidays, no nothing, for the rest of eternity. Why would two people who have been trapped in nothing but that for their mortal lives willingly choose that when they could die and spend eternity together in Elysium, doing only things they find fun with no overarching responsibilities hanging over them? At this point I'd say it's a no brainer that both of them will get Elysium when they die, whatever happens from now on, and also with Nico being the son of Hades... the rules will get bent in his favour even if that wasn't the case, let's be honest.

Also, if they did ascend, they'd be mostly separated - Nico would clearly become Chthonic and remain based in the Underworld, while Will would be one of the Olympic gods on Olympus/the Overworld. They would be able to interact occasionally, I'm sure, but for the most part they'd actually be separated from each other. Again, not really what they'd be going for, I don't think.

So no, while I agree both of them could ascend to godhood, I disagree that either of them would ever choose to.

You do make a good point about their general lack of mortal world awareness/skills, but with the existence of New Rome there are clearly options for adult demigods that don't involve returning to the mortal world - personally I headcanon that Will will go to New Rome University, get his doctor qualifications, and then return to Camp Half-Blood as an adult head of infirmary to take the pressure off of his younger mortal siblings, while Nico will continue with general Ambassador of Hades/Pluto things - so responsibilities while they're still alive, but ones they can shed once they die!

*No, I have not forgotten Asclepius' existence, but Asclepius was never given the choice. He was killed and then ascended all on Zeus' whims - we have no idea if he would have wanted to ascend if given the option.