charlietheepicwriter7

[charlietheepicwriter7]

athenide au, but instead of Percy being born at the contest for Athens, Percy is the first demigod child of Athena she created by thinking too much about Odysseus and friendship and Pallas, but shh and pop goes the baby! And while Odysseus is trapped on Calypso's island, Athena just drops baby Percy off on Penelope and goes "Sorry, made this while thinking too much about your husband. I'm going to go check to see what's keeping him."

We have Percy! Who is a baby and is the daughter of someone who really didn't like her and a man who has the worst relationship with her OG dad.

We have Odysseus! Who has no idea he has a daughter until he sees a crib next to he and his wife's marriage bed.

We have Penelope! Who suddenly has a newborn baby in house filled with men who'd definitely claim the child as their bastard if it meant getting the throne.

We have Poseidon! Who was just trying to keep the kid from drowning (and prevent another 600 Strike situtation) but damn it, he actually gets along with the brat. The brat that, for some reason, has ocean powers it's because Athena was thinking about Pallas too. So he accidentally/secretly mentors the kid.

[charlietheepicwriter7]

Babies Having Raising Babies

Deciding to visit Amity Park and hang out with Danny for a bit before getting back to her globetrotting, Ellie arrives just in time to witness Plasmius ambush and abduct her original/big brother. Knowing a direct confrontation won't end well she opts to follow the older halfa from a greatly lengthened distance.

Once she makes it to the castle and sneaks into the lab she finds Danny out cold and now significantly younger, with Vlad standing over him holding an empty syringe. It takes everything in Ellie not to rush her demented creator right then and there and instead wait it out for an opportune moment to strike.

When Vlad's in the process of placing a rather nefarious looking device on the unconscious three year old's head is when Phantasm acts, grabbing up Vlad's spectral energy neutralizer and trapping him in it before he can get his guard back up. With the crazed billionaire subdued she then thoroughly wrecks the lab and takes off with Danny.

Even after she's well out of range of Wisconsin Ellie doesn't stop, continuing to fly at top speed until all her energy's been spent. She barely manages to avoid crash landing into the barn she came across before blacking out from sheer exhaustion.

She eventually stirs at the tantalizing aroma of freshly baked pie. The sight that greets her upon rousing is her now little brother wide awake and happily scarfing down a generous slice of pecan pie, as well as a boy her age holding the rest, watching them both from a respectful distance.

It's only through the frantic promise of telling no-one about them and offering of more food that Ellie doesn't go invisible, snatch up Danny, and hightail it out of the barn in a blind panic. The boy introduces himself after she calms down as Jon Kent, explaining she and Danny were currently in Kansas and in his grandparents' barn.

And true to his word, Jon keeps the two of them a secret and consistently supplies them with food, even goes a step further by giving some of his old clothes to Danny and periodically sneaking them into the house to use the shower.

Though suspicious of his kindness in the beginning, only taking advantage for Danny's sake, it isn't long before Ellie comes to trust the farmboy and feel quite a bit of guilt for taking so much and giving nothing in return, no matter how many times Jon tells her he doesn't mind and is happy to help.

Overtime the two teens grow comfortable enough to share the more secretive parts of their lives, Jon as Superboy and Ellie both as Phantasm and what led to her first crashing into the Kent's barn with Danny. Further along the way the half ghost and half kryptonian start to develop feelings for each other.

For the first time in her short life Ellie isn't so strongly against staying in one place for extended periods of time. Unconventional as the whole situation is, technically being a runaway along with now having someone she was responsible for, she could get used to all of this. The only downside is that Danny, having been stripped of nearly all his memories thanks to whatever Vlad injected into him and now too young to know any better won't stop calling her and Jon Mommy and Daddy. Jon sees no harm in it and thinks it's cute. But Ellie just knows anyone who hears is going to get the wrong idea.

This is unfortunately proven when one day Jon's dad finally returns from a team mission offworld and not too soon after must deal with Livewire. When Jon finds out and rushes off to help he doesn't realize Danny is following him invisibly, wanting to see him in action. Throughout the entirety of the fight Superboy is blissfully unaware of the presence of his girlfriend's little brother, only to be unpleasantly surprised once Livewires been taken down and Danny unexpectedly appears, cheering for him.

Before his dad can question him Phantasm makes her own appearance and proceeds to scold Danny for wandering off, adding to Superman's confusion and giving Jon a bad feeling. That's when the bomb drops as Danny, feeling properly contrite attempts to appease Ellie, apologizing to "Mommy" before expressing that he wanted to watch "Daddy" fight bad guys.

Immediately Jon finds himself cringing. He doesn't want to, but he has to. So he slowly turns to take in his father's expression. And just as he feared, his dad is looking deathly pale and seconds away from having a heart attack. Okay. Maybe Ellie had a point about nipping this in the bud before someone jumped to conclusions.

[charlietheepicwriter7]

like 32 hours into my drive last month i was talking to my friend about a House MD/NBC Hannibal crossover in which House also figures out Will has encephalitis and he becomes obsessed with Will as a medical problem so now it's House vs. Hannibal bc House refuses to lose when he gets his little claws in a case and House 100% knows for a fact Hannibal is serving human meat at dinner but he first puts it together at a dinner party so he's cornered and he's soooo committed to meeting Hannibal's bluff that he does eat it and Hannibal knows he knows

and he makes an excuse to avoid the next several dinners Hannibal hosts but he doesn't tell ANYONE else so when the entire thing unravels there's a scene where Wilson and Cuddy realizes House knowingly let them all eat people on multiple ocassions and they almost kill him themselves

[charlietheepicwriter7]

whenever you take too much time to write something know it is because stephen king has been stealing your life force

[charlietheepicwriter7]

reblog with a spoiler for your wip with zero context. no context allowed.

[charlietheepicwriter7]

Hey, can someone rec me some fics where Dan is mistaken for Danny's father?

[charlietheepicwriter7]

Thalia hated her dreams for a long time.

She hated being the woman with the beautiful dresses in a palace by the sea. She hated the men infesting her home, and hated how Thalia couldn't kill them. She hated how she couldn't do anything in those dreams, always passive, always waiting.

Thalia couldn't afford to wait.

Waiting had cost her Jason. If she hadn't waited until they were older, if she hadn't wanted a break, if she hadn't waited so long before realizing that she hadn't seen her mother or brother in a while. If she hadn't waited, maybe she'd still have him. Or maybe the monsters would have eaten them both.

Either way, Thalia refused to spend another moment of her life waiting. Every step forward was another step closer.

When the monsters attacked more frequently, the dreams revealed more detail. She had a son, in those dreams, and her heart ached as fiercely for him as it did for Jason. She had a husband who was gone for most of their lives together, and Thalia cursed the gods. She'd never heard their names before, they were carved into her heart.

Telemachus.

Odysseus.

And she kept those names there until Amaltheia led her into the dragon's lair and saved the boy inside. The boy she recognized instantly, though his face and hair were different. Her husband. Her Odysseus. Her Luke.

They traveled together from that moment on, never leaving each other's side. No matter the monster nor the huntresses, she wouldn't go without her son. She knew he was out there - Luke was skeptical, but if they'd both them reborn, then so was their son, end of questions - and all they had to do was find him.

Despite how unlikely it was, Thalia was certain Telemachus had been reborn as Jason.

But instead of their son, they found a daughter. Their sweet little Annabeth, ready to crack Luke's head open like an egg. "Telemachus would love her," she told Luke at least once a week, usually when Annabeth was dead asleep and Thalia was on watch. A mother's intuition, from a woman who'd never given birth.

But the dreams would not stop. And now that Thalia could do nothing but dream, they were all she had.

AO3 link

[charlietheepicwriter7]

Ody!Luke would probably have a heart attack if he finds out how much of his own journey Tele!Percy ends up following. Especially if he finds out about Calypso.

speaking of which, would Tele!Percy feel pity for her, or would he lean more towards anger/resentment at how she treated his father and kept him prisoner on her island for seven years? And would he fear getting trapped as well? Or would he pray to Athena and/or Hermes to rescue him?

So, I think there's a section of Odysseus' story that he wouldn't tell Telemachus once he's returned. Penelope, definitely, that girl knows everything, but Telemachus is still just a little boy in Ody's mind. Telemachus doesn't need to know that his dad was basically s3xually assaulted for 7 years (because we're using the Epic version).

And I know the PJO fandom has a soft spot for Calypso. She's dating Leo for a reason in current canon (i think?). So I haven't decided if Calypso is just as bad as she was during Epic or if she's mellowed out over the years.

Luke, during the events of the Sea of Monsters, is freaking out. He knows what's at the end of Percy's journey, and he's actually racing Percy to get to the fleece before him, instead of just waiting back and planning to capture Percy when he gets the fleece.

I like the idea that Percy doesn't find out about how bad Calypso was to Odysseus until Luke breaks down and frantically apologizes to Percy after he learns where Percy was for those two weeks.

[charlietheepicwriter7]

...were you?

platonic third base: when you get to know someone well enough that they start making mortifyingly specific observations about you

[charlietheepicwriter7]

In the comments or reblogs, tell me what your favorite thing to come out of dc x dp is! Tropes, stories, headcanons, whatever you love, I wanna hear it!

[charlietheepicwriter7]

@anotheroceanid Part 2!

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

Human. 

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

Her daughter did. 

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

Odysseus turned away, his stomach turning. 

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

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

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

Infants typically were born with blue eyes, he remembered. 

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

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

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

Odysseus froze. 

The last baby he held, he killed. 

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

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

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

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

A great many things in this world would hurt her. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Odysseus closed his eyes.

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

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

Or he could take her.

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

“Penelope.”

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

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

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

[charlietheepicwriter7]

Percy was left as the long guard of the creek boarder. One week into camp, barely any weapons training, and he was given the important job of stopping Red Team from crossing the boarder.

Something was off.

Studying the tree line, Percy discarded his shield - heavy, burdensome thing, it was more likely to get Percy killed than protect him - only to hear the sharp snap of a dead branch. He whirled towards the noise, back to the stream and hand on the pommel of his sword.

Someone was watching him.

But who? Percy's thoughts raced. He had very few allies here at camp; Grover, Luke (but he was going after the flag despite a loud argument with Annabeth that he overheard), maybe some of the other Hermes cabin kids? But he had made far more enemies than allies so far-

Unless... his eyes turned upward as he searched for a sign of an owl.

Percy always had weird dreams. Dreams of a breathtakingly sad woman he called Mother, a dark man in red he called Father, and a woman in armor who taught him to fight. For a long time, the dreams were vague, like he was peering through morning fog off the ocean. Then he reached camp, and the dreams were clear. He could see his Mother's face now, and dreamed about her chatting with his mom in the after life. He knew his Father's love, a father who'd been lost at sea for years before finally coming home. He knew his friend's name.

Athena.

There were no birds in the branches, nor any feathers on the ground. But he wasn't alone, because he could still hear the soft swish of fabric against fabric. Percy tightened his grip. "Show yourself," he demanded. The noise of the forest faded in his mind as Percy tried to triangulate the sound. "I know you're watching me. Show yourself!" A sharp gasp, quickly muffled. Percy glared in that direction. "I can see you..."

"What!?" Abruptly, Annabeth appeared. It wasn't like she jumped out of the trees, or a bush, but she literally wasn't there one second, and was there the next. Annabeth stormed over to Percy, scowling. "What do you mean, you can see me!? How did you do that?"

Percy stared back at her blankly, then snorted. "I was lying, and you fell for it." He held back from laughing in her face, but just barely. She wasn't his friend, but when she was angry like this, her eyes looked just like...

Annabeth reared back, a ruddy flush blooming over her cheeks and down her neck. "Well, good job! Liar." She sneered, slapping her baseball cap in her hand. "You're supposed to be guarding. What were you even doing, looking for me?"

"I wasn't looking for you- Actually, why are you here? I thought you'd be too busy micromanaging your plan to win-" Percy stopped, thought, and reassessed, coming to an unfortunate yet obvious conclusion. "...That's exactly what you're doing. I'm the plan. You're using me as bait." No wonder Luke was so mad!

Annabeth crossed her arms. "I am not!"

"You want those Ares kids to focus on kicking my butt instead of capturing our flag! You're practically sacrificing me!"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on, you're being dramatic. I'm not going to let them hurt you."

"You're not the one they want to kill!" Percy snapped.

Through the brush on the other side of the stream, five Ares kids, led by the big bully herself, Clarisse, crashed into their argument. Clarisse's ringing "Cream the punk!" signalling of his and Annabeth's very unfortunate team up.

[charlietheepicwriter7]

You know what? I've decided that it's VERY important for me that Annabeth and Percy be trans in this au.

Percy is lucky. Penelope is already right there as her new name. Annabeth... or rather, Andrew chose something similar to his birth name - mostly because he figured actually going by Odysseus would put an unnecessary target on his back, but also he doesn't know what else to call them.

The two decided to transition while their memories were still fuzzy. I think Penelope transitioned first, before Sally ended up marrying Gabe (mostly because I think if Gabe ever got the idea that Percy was trans, he'd kill that kid). Andrew probably started transitioning after he ran away from home, so his dad has no idea that his daughter is now his son.

This doesn't effect the story in anyway, I just think it doesn't make sense that someone can change how they think of themselves -their gender identity- just because they were reborn in the opposite body than the one they were familiar with.

Trying to think up a good pairing for a PJO story where Odysseus and Penelope were reborn into pjo times - specifically, Penelope was reborn as Percy Jackson (boy or girl, though I'm leaning towards girl). I can't really think of someone to be Odysseus though. My first thought was Annabeth, but it doesn't feel like the best choice.

I once talked with @perseabeth of Luke as Odysseus coded. Hear me out!

Descendant of Hermes;

Beefing with gods;

Odysseus was close to Athena, Luke was close to Annabeth;

Enemy to a child of Poseidon;

Owns a boat (LOL);

In the end, his story resolves around family;

I made much clearer points and comparisons when I was talking with perseabeth, but I believe Odysseus!Luke would be chefs kiss!

[charlietheepicwriter7]

How does Athena feel when she discovers that Percy is Telemachus reincarnated? Do you think she feels just a little bit bad about the things she said to him then?

Mortified.

I see her realizing during the Winter Solstice party during Titan's Curse, when Athena tells Percy she doesn't approve of Percy being the prophsized hero because of his fatal flaw.

Percy, who at this point has spoke to multiple of her children, has a bone to pick with her.

Athena doesn't realize who he is immediately, but during his rant, maybe he brings up something personal between them and she realizes halfway through.

And Athena is mortified. Partly because of the affection--she does NOT do affection--but also she voted to kill her best friend? She tore into her best friend about his fatal flaw? Oh no, she had to apologize-wait, where'd he go?

[charlietheepicwriter7]

Odysseus' life after the deaths of his family has been incredibly tragic, but it has also given him the opportunity to do things he could have never imagined, like learn to drive or see space flight, or in this case, write a cookbook of 101 ways to kill and cook various demigods. His favorite recipes are "Son of Apollo Steak" and "Ares Kid Sausage".

@anotheroceanid

Between Calypso’s island and his home, on a rocky shole surrounded by mile-high waves under a black sky, Odysseus became a monster. And like all monsters, he eventually watched all his loved ones die without him. 

At first, he didn’t notice. In his relief to be home and his joy to get to know his wife and son again, Odysseus didn’t realize how strong he was until he reached out to hold his wife’s hand and accidentally snapped her wrist. After that, he couldn’t stop noticing how different he was. Everything felt fragile, like spun glass under his fingertips. His form flickered like the wind, one moment strong and steady with the face of a man, the next moment shadowed and looming and clawed and every inch reeking of danger. He could see farther than his son, hear further, and one day Odysseus looked Telemachus in his face and realized they could be mistaken as equals rather than father and son. 

His family grew old while Odysseus stayed the same.

Well, not the same. Odysseus changed in far more horrifying ways. 

Eventually, his family died. First came Penelope, weak and frail and beautiful as always, passing away gently in her sleep, in his arms. Then his Telemachus, decades later in a sickness that swept across the island. Then his son’s son, then that son’s daughter, and her son, and on and on until his last descendant drowned in a flood that buried the whole island for a day. 

When he finally left Ithaca, the first time he’d left since he came home, the world had changed. And Poseidon’s children were everywhere.

Every single one of his son’s children were dead. Yet Poseidon just… kept popping out more and more bastards, like there wasn’t a target on each and every one of their backs. So Odysseus became the arrow.

Odysseus usually avoided eating demigods. There had been one son of Ares on Ithica who harassed his great granddaughter that Odysseus dealt with, but for the most part, he kept his human morals. But he always made an exception for the children of Poseidon.

They weren’t his favorite demigods to eat, by far–too fishy, and Ocean demigod meat always had a weird texture, like eel but tougher. But the joy Odysseus got from Poseidon’s screams of agony, screams Odysseus could hear every time one died, screams Odysseus could hear from anywhere on the globe, gave greater satisfaction than pleasure ever could. 

Many demigods had been sent to kill him. At first it was only Poseidon’s children, seeking him out in revenge for their lost siblings; a noble cause, so Odysseus killed them quickly and properly buried them with payment in their mouths. Then it became quests, demigods sent for the “glory” of killing the Monstrous King of Ithaca. Those, Odysseus killed slowly, ripping out their stomachs with siren’s talons and leaving them to die in pools of their own blood. He didn’t even spare his old friend’s children, nor his relatives. 

Then, the Prophecy. 

Odysseus had lost track of time since the reveal of the Great Prophecy. At first, he’d kept busy by killing Poseidon’s children still; a few had survived the second moral world war and were already older than 16, so Odysseus could hunt them to his heart’s content. But as the well of available revenge dried up, so too did the demigods chasing after him become… younger. Children baby-faced and desperate to survive Odysseus in battle and Odysseus… he couldn’t kill them. Not children, so small and shaking and unable to hold their knife correctly as a child barely old enough to fight stared up at him with watery gray eyes. 

Men, he could kill. Women, he could kill. But children?

Not again. Please don’t make him do it again.

So he disappeared. It wasn’t the first time he’d lay low out of the Gods’ gaze, so Odysseus let the decades wash over him until, finally, he heard rumors of Poseidon making landfall in New York. 

He’d known his old foe would slip up eventually; it wasn’t in Poseidon’s nature to keep himself from ruining young women’s lives. 

Slipping through the streets and alleys of modern New York, it took Odysseus weeks to catch the faintest trace of Poseidon’s scent. Demigods had a weak scent as long as they relied on their parents. It was meant to protect them. But the Kronide’s children always had strong scents, even as babes. 

Odysseus couldn’t figure out how old Poseidon’s newest bastard was, but no matter how young they were, the child was strong. He could smell it in the back of his throat. 

Triangulating the scent, Odysseus approached the rundown apartment building and scowled. Gone were the days where a lover of Poseidon was draped in fineries and set up in a golden palace. He took a moment to pity the poor mortal woman. She had to suffer the indignity of having that thing as a lover, without any of the perks her predecessors enjoyed; not only that, but soon she’d have to confront the reality of being a parent that has outlived their child. Odysseus pitied her, truly. 

He didn’t want to do it. But he would. It would be better for the babe if it never grew up into a pawn of its father, and better for the mother that she wouldn’t need to die at the hands of a less considerate monster. 

The sky rumbled overhead as the first fat drops of rain fell on his head. He looked up. Natural occurrence or divine attention? Either way, few gods would interfere with his task, if they noticed at all.

The lock crumbled under his grip and Odysseus crept into the building like a thief. Each floor stunk with humanity, of beer and tobacco and sweat, but the salt of the sea grew stronger with each floor until he finally found himself at a corner studio apartment a few floors off the ground.

This lock, he picked with ease. The sanctity of the home did not protect them as he snuck inside. The apartment was shockingly full, stuffed with oversized furniture that cluttered the already cramped apartment. A thin pathway carved between the back of one of three sofas and the wall led Odysseus to the back of the apartment. A bed had been pushed against the apartment’s sole window–lightning flashed outside–and against that bed, a crib. 

He inspected the mother first. Young. Not as young as he and Penelope had been when they met, but younger than Telemachus had been when he returned home. She was thin too, lean but the baby fat still clung to her face. Poor girl. 

Poor, poor girl. 

His attention turned to the Sea Spawn. It wasn’t big, smaller than Telemachus when he left for Troy, and his scent was just a wispy hint of ocean. If he hadn’t been following Poseidon’s scent, he would have had no idea this child was more than mortal. 

Odysseus loomed over the crib, studying the creature inside. With siren’s talons, he traced the pudgy babyfat of its cheeks. It huffed softly, struggling against the tight hold of its swaddle in their sleep, and Odysseus unconsciously smoothed out the wrinkle on their forehead with the soft flat of his finger. 

They did not look very much like Poseidon. Maybe with their skin color, but little else. Though perhaps Odysseus wasn’t the best judge; he’d sworn on his life that Telemachus looked just like his Penelope, but she’d claimed their son to be his copy in every way. Odysseus didn’t see it then, and didn’t see his enemy now in this babe’s face. 

Odysseus stood over the crib, his massive frame casting a shadow over the small, sleeping form. His claws hovered mere inches from the baby’s chest, but his hand trembled. This was Poseidon’s child. He could smell it clear as day, better than any other monster before him. Odysseus was practically made to murder Poseidon’s children, his very being honed to track them down and kill them, so why was he hesitating–? 

Lightning flashed, the light reflecting off shiny words on the crib’s backboard. Painted above the baby’s head in streaky gold paint was the name Penelope.

His breath hitched. He blinked, his monstrous form stilling as though time itself had paused. Reaching out a hand, he touched his wife’s name. “Penelope?” he whispered, his voice barely audible, rough from disuse. He said it again, this time louder, as though speaking the name would summon a ghost from his past. “Penelope.”

The child stirred in sleep, her tiny face scrunching as if disturbed by the sound.

He could barely think over the ocean of blood rushing in his ears. Poseidon’s child was named after his wife. Had he…? Was this a deliberate offense or mockery? Had Poseidon named the child after her to taunt him, to twist the knife of his losses deeper? Or… his crimson gaze turned to the mother. Was this her doing?

Did she think naming her child after his wife would stay his hand?

Worse of all, was it working? 

Odysseus knelt, his monstrous form folding into itself, making him seem smaller, almost human. He stared at the child who bore his wife’s name, his mind warring with itself. The rage that had sustained him for decades demanded he finish the task. But… Penelope. 

[charlietheepicwriter7]

It's a bit easy to miss, but Odysseus admits to killing some of Athena's children, as well as Hermes'. Not Annabeth, not Luke, because he's managed to regain some semblance of morality after he couldn't kill anymore Poseidon children, but he definitely killed their children. Maybe ate a few. There was a draft where Odysseus regularly ate demigods and his favorites to eat were actually children of Apollo.

@anotheroceanid

Between Calypso’s island and his home, on a rocky shole surrounded by mile-high waves under a black sky, Odysseus became a monster. And like all monsters, he eventually watched all his loved ones die without him. 

At first, he didn’t notice. In his relief to be home and his joy to get to know his wife and son again, Odysseus didn’t realize how strong he was until he reached out to hold his wife’s hand and accidentally snapped her wrist. After that, he couldn’t stop noticing how different he was. Everything felt fragile, like spun glass under his fingertips. His form flickered like the wind, one moment strong and steady with the face of a man, the next moment shadowed and looming and clawed and every inch reeking of danger. He could see farther than his son, hear further, and one day Odysseus looked Telemachus in his face and realized they could be mistaken as equals rather than father and son. 

His family grew old while Odysseus stayed the same.

Well, not the same. Odysseus changed in far more horrifying ways. 

Eventually, his family died. First came Penelope, weak and frail and beautiful as always, passing away gently in her sleep, in his arms. Then his Telemachus, decades later in a sickness that swept across the island. Then his son’s son, then that son’s daughter, and her son, and on and on until his last descendant drowned in a flood that buried the whole island for a day. 

When he finally left Ithaca, the first time he’d left since he came home, the world had changed. And Poseidon’s children were everywhere.

Every single one of his son’s children were dead. Yet Poseidon just… kept popping out more and more bastards, like there wasn’t a target on each and every one of their backs. So Odysseus became the arrow.

Odysseus usually avoided eating demigods. There had been one son of Ares on Ithica who harassed his great granddaughter that Odysseus dealt with, but for the most part, he kept his human morals. But he always made an exception for the children of Poseidon.

They weren’t his favorite demigods to eat, by far–too fishy, and Ocean demigod meat always had a weird texture, like eel but tougher. But the joy Odysseus got from Poseidon’s screams of agony, screams Odysseus could hear every time one died, screams Odysseus could hear from anywhere on the globe, gave greater satisfaction than pleasure ever could. 

Many demigods had been sent to kill him. At first it was only Poseidon’s children, seeking him out in revenge for their lost siblings; a noble cause, so Odysseus killed them quickly and properly buried them with payment in their mouths. Then it became quests, demigods sent for the “glory” of killing the Monstrous King of Ithaca. Those, Odysseus killed slowly, ripping out their stomachs with siren’s talons and leaving them to die in pools of their own blood. He didn’t even spare his old friend’s children, nor his relatives. 

Then, the Prophecy. 

Odysseus had lost track of time since the reveal of the Great Prophecy. At first, he’d kept busy by killing Poseidon’s children still; a few had survived the second moral world war and were already older than 16, so Odysseus could hunt them to his heart’s content. But as the well of available revenge dried up, so too did the demigods chasing after him become… younger. Children baby-faced and desperate to survive Odysseus in battle and Odysseus… he couldn’t kill them. Not children, so small and shaking and unable to hold their knife correctly as a child barely old enough to fight stared up at him with watery gray eyes. 

Men, he could kill. Women, he could kill. But children?

Not again. Please don’t make him do it again.

So he disappeared. It wasn’t the first time he’d lay low out of the Gods’ gaze, so Odysseus let the decades wash over him until, finally, he heard rumors of Poseidon making landfall in New York. 

He’d known his old foe would slip up eventually; it wasn’t in Poseidon’s nature to keep himself from ruining young women’s lives. 

Slipping through the streets and alleys of modern New York, it took Odysseus weeks to catch the faintest trace of Poseidon’s scent. Demigods had a weak scent as long as they relied on their parents. It was meant to protect them. But the Kronide’s children always had strong scents, even as babes. 

Odysseus couldn’t figure out how old Poseidon’s newest bastard was, but no matter how young they were, the child was strong. He could smell it in the back of his throat. 

Triangulating the scent, Odysseus approached the rundown apartment building and scowled. Gone were the days where a lover of Poseidon was draped in fineries and set up in a golden palace. He took a moment to pity the poor mortal woman. She had to suffer the indignity of having that thing as a lover, without any of the perks her predecessors enjoyed; not only that, but soon she’d have to confront the reality of being a parent that has outlived their child. Odysseus pitied her, truly. 

He didn’t want to do it. But he would. It would be better for the babe if it never grew up into a pawn of its father, and better for the mother that she wouldn’t need to die at the hands of a less considerate monster. 

The sky rumbled overhead as the first fat drops of rain fell on his head. He looked up. Natural occurrence or divine attention? Either way, few gods would interfere with his task, if they noticed at all.

The lock crumbled under his grip and Odysseus crept into the building like a thief. Each floor stunk with humanity, of beer and tobacco and sweat, but the salt of the sea grew stronger with each floor until he finally found himself at a corner studio apartment a few floors off the ground.

This lock, he picked with ease. The sanctity of the home did not protect them as he snuck inside. The apartment was shockingly full, stuffed with oversized furniture that cluttered the already cramped apartment. A thin pathway carved between the back of one of three sofas and the wall led Odysseus to the back of the apartment. A bed had been pushed against the apartment’s sole window–lightning flashed outside–and against that bed, a crib. 

He inspected the mother first. Young. Not as young as he and Penelope had been when they met, but younger than Telemachus had been when he returned home. She was thin too, lean but the baby fat still clung to her face. Poor girl. 

Poor, poor girl. 

His attention turned to the Sea Spawn. It wasn’t big, smaller than Telemachus when he left for Troy, and his scent was just a wispy hint of ocean. If he hadn’t been following Poseidon’s scent, he would have had no idea this child was more than mortal. 

Odysseus loomed over the crib, studying the creature inside. With siren’s talons, he traced the pudgy babyfat of its cheeks. It huffed softly, struggling against the tight hold of its swaddle in their sleep, and Odysseus unconsciously smoothed out the wrinkle on their forehead with the soft flat of his finger. 

They did not look very much like Poseidon. Maybe with their skin color, but little else. Though perhaps Odysseus wasn’t the best judge; he’d sworn on his life that Telemachus looked just like his Penelope, but she’d claimed their son to be his copy in every way. Odysseus didn’t see it then, and didn’t see his enemy now in this babe’s face. 

Odysseus stood over the crib, his massive frame casting a shadow over the small, sleeping form. His claws hovered mere inches from the baby’s chest, but his hand trembled. This was Poseidon’s child. He could smell it clear as day, better than any other monster before him. Odysseus was practically made to murder Poseidon’s children, his very being honed to track them down and kill them, so why was he hesitating–? 

Lightning flashed, the light reflecting off shiny words on the crib’s backboard. Painted above the baby’s head in streaky gold paint was the name Penelope.

His breath hitched. He blinked, his monstrous form stilling as though time itself had paused. Reaching out a hand, he touched his wife’s name. “Penelope?” he whispered, his voice barely audible, rough from disuse. He said it again, this time louder, as though speaking the name would summon a ghost from his past. “Penelope.”

The child stirred in sleep, her tiny face scrunching as if disturbed by the sound.

He could barely think over the ocean of blood rushing in his ears. Poseidon’s child was named after his wife. Had he…? Was this a deliberate offense or mockery? Had Poseidon named the child after her to taunt him, to twist the knife of his losses deeper? Or… his crimson gaze turned to the mother. Was this her doing?

Did she think naming her child after his wife would stay his hand?

Worse of all, was it working? 

Odysseus knelt, his monstrous form folding into itself, making him seem smaller, almost human. He stared at the child who bore his wife’s name, his mind warring with itself. The rage that had sustained him for decades demanded he finish the task. But… Penelope. 

[charlietheepicwriter7]

how do you think your AU of Luke!Odysseus Thalia!Penelope and Percy!Telemachus would go if Percy had immediately recognized Luke was his father?

Luke had sent Annabeth back to her cabin for a few hours. Ever since she'd found the boy - Percy Jackson, Chiron recognized him - who dragged Grover to safety, she'd kept vigil at his bedside, harassing the boy every time he returned to consciousness. She was convinced that this would be the child to take her out on a quest. She'd thought the same about Caleb... and Rebecca. And Howard.

He shook his head and looked back to his book. He'd ordered Annabeth to take a shower and attend some activities with her siblings to relax. The Athena cabin at Arts and Crafts soon with his cabin, and he knew she was working on a LEGO model of the Golden Gate Bridge that she wanted to finish soon. The only reason she'd left was because he promised to watch over the boy while she was gone. He smiled. Stubborn girl, just like her mother.

His heart ached for Thalia, and Luke took a moment to compose himself. She'd be in his arms again soon, he vowed. Kronos promised that Poseidon's bastard would arrive at the camp soon, and once the war was underway, the gods would be too distracted to notice him saving her-

A groan interrupted his thoughts. Percy Jackson roused on the hospital bed, flinching at the bright lights. "Finally awake, are you?" Luke asked, putting his book to the side. The boy stared at him with glassy green eyes. Luke sighed; he clearly wasn't fully recovered and awake yet-

"Father?"

Luke startled. He knew that voice. By the gods, he knew that voice. Blinking tears out of his eyes, Luke studied the boy. He looked nothing like him, yet Luke knew, as sure as the color of the sky. He spoke with a gasping, desperate, "Son!"

His son - for surely this was Telemachus, his little baby boy, his precious gift, his sweetest joy - broke down in heart-wrenching sobs. Odysseus leapt out of his chair just in time to catch Telemachus as he threw himself at his father. Desperately clutching his boy (his boy! Oh, how he's missed his boy!), Luke rushed to comfort his distressed and definitely still injured child. Odysseus had never known his son at this age, didn't know his temperament or personality, but as Percy pressed his fever-hot forehead into Luke's collarbone, all he could do was try to lay his boy back in bed and summon the healers.

"Father!" Percy sobbed into his shirt, rubbing tears and snot into the fabric. "Father! Father!"

"Shh, my boy," Luke comforted, pressing a quick kiss into his black curls. "I'm here, your father is here! Don't cry, please, I've got you. I've always got you."

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So, honestly, I don't think it would change very much. Luke wouldn't know Percy is Poseidon's biological child, Percy wouldn't know Luke was the Lightning Thief until Luke reveals it to him after the quest. Maybe Luke would be more confident that Percy would join him, but it doesn't change a lot.

Percy, assuming he continues to recognize Luke after he fully recovers, would certainly be clingier towards Luke, much to Annabeth's anger. That's her dad! No, Luke's his dad!

Luke is both of their dad's and is very unamused.