#anyway my friend had to sit down and explain the worldbuilding of pjo to me and I was like WOW THATS FUCKED so I wrote this

[yellowocaballero]

Percy Jackson meets a Landlord, a Tax Accountant, and a Tree Growing in Brooklyn

“Golduck, use hydro pump!” Percy whispered. He moved Golduck so he hit Batman on the chest, and then hit Batman a few more times for good measure. “Die, landlord!”

“Aren’t you a little old to be playing with toys?”

Percy almost fell out of his chair. 

He twisted his torso around, looking behind him with wide eyes. But the only person there was a white girl, no older than him. She was wearing a really severe expression to match her tight little blonde ponytail, and she was carrying a clipboard in both hands. There was a piece of string tacked to the clipboard, with a pen tied around one end. She looked like she asked the school librarian if she could help shelve books. 

Percy decided instantly that she hated him, so he decided to hate her back. 

“Aren’t you a little young to be doing your taxes?” Percy sneered. “Buzz off.”

That made her mad. The girl’s angelic little chubby face twisted in rage, and her grip on the clipboard turned threatening. “I’m accounting the chores! And I could do taxes if I wanted!”

“Yeah?” Percy asked, unimpressed. “Name one tax.”

“Sales tax,” the girl said instantly. 

Damn. She got that one.  

Short fic that I am considering extending into a much, much longer fic. Thank you Ami for the translation of the card (I would definitely translate it yourself, it’s important). The entire backstory and premise of the AU isn’t immediately apparent, but if I extend the fic it’ll be more explained (spoiler: Luke Castellan, age 14, said fuck Olympus and moved all of Camp Half-Blood into Brooklyn to live in a child-run utopia). I haven’t reread Percy Jackson since I was 10, I barely remember anything that happens or any of the characters, so don’t expect much - but aren’t the best children’s novels the children’s novels that live in our head, anyway?

Rest under the cut. 

2005

180 Olive Apartments was a dump. Batman said so.

Batman felt very strongly about this, and as a result Percy did too. It was not Percy’s own, private, personal opinion. Batman informed Percy that the apartment complex was shabby, gross, not in Staten island, and smelled weird. Batman made a very convincing argument that they should live in Staten Island instead, which Percy had done his best to relay to Mom. Mom hadn’t been impressed. 

“This is the best place for us, Percy,” Mom had said, with that pinched look on her face. It was the ‘Percy’s Making My Life Really Hard’ face. Percy had been seeing that face a lot lately. “Let’s just try to make this work, please?”

There was no ‘best place’ for them, and Percy and Batman knew that. But that was another thing Mom didn’t want to hear. 

So Percy had suffered in stoic silence as Mom dragged him out of the motel, made him miss the new episode of Pokemon, and forced him to ride the subway forty minutes into smelly Brooklyn so he could sit in this smelly chair outside of some smelly office in a smelly apartment. From inside the office, Percy could hear the faint rise and fall of voices: Mom’s, light and lyrical and very polite to people who were not Percy; and some landlord guy. His voice was really light and high too, but he was probably a real jerk.

Percy was so bored he could die. He sat up on his knees, turning around so he could prop his elbows against the dusty windowsill with grimy frosted glass. He plopped Batman down on the dirty windowsill, smearing his chipped feet through the tracks of dust. Parkour. He unzipped his pocket and grabbed his slightly dusty Golduck rubber toy, putting it in front of Batman. Golduck was from McDonald’s, so it had a bad attitude. 

Percy waggled Batman. You have a bad attitude, Golduck. You can’t live in my house anymore, because you get water all over the tile and you make the wood go bad. 

Golduck jiggled when Percy shook him. It wasn’t Golduck’s fault that the water went everywhere! Water just goes places sometimes. Golduck was a water type, so water followed him around and got into wood and made the wood go bad and made other people mad at him. It’s not Golduck’s fault, so don’t make him move!

I don’t want to hear it, Batman said. I’m going to make you live in a crummy motel and make your Mom go on a lot of boring websites looking for new places to live. The motel’s bananas are going to taste weird. Mom’s going to cry a lot. And it’ll be all your fault because you’re a bad kid. 

“Golduck, use hydro pump!” Percy whispered. He moved Golduck so he hit Batman on the chest, and then hit Batman a few more times for good measure. “Die, landlord!”

“Aren’t you a little old to be playing with toys?”

Percy almost fell out of his chair. 

He twisted his torso around, looking behind him with wide eyes. But the only person there was a white girl, no older than him. She was wearing a really severe expression to match her tight little blonde ponytail, and she was carrying a clipboard in both hands. There was a piece of string tacked to the clipboard, with a pen tied around one end. She looked like she asked the school librarian if she could help shelve books. 

Percy decided instantly that she hated him, so he decided to hate her back. 

“Aren’t you a little young to be doing your taxes?” Percy sneered. “Buzz off.”

That made her mad. The girl’s angelic little chubby face twisted in rage, and her grip on the clipboard turned threatening. “I’m accounting the chores! And I could do taxes if I wanted!”

“Yeah?” Percy asked, unimpressed. “Name one tax.”

“Sales tax,” the girl said instantly. 

Damn. She got that one. Percy just rolled his eyes instead, sitting back down on his seat and stuffing his toys in his cargo pocket. He couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed, even if he knew that he wasn’t too old to play with Batman and Golduck. What did tax accountants know, anyway. 

The girl sniffed, and made a show of inspecting the grimy windowsill and carefully making a note on her clipboard. Her pen had a pom-pom at the end. Percy bet she made hearts over the top of her ‘i’s. 

“Nick’s been slacking,” the girl muttered threateningly. “I’m surrounded by incompetents.”

“Why is it Nick’s job to clean the leasing office?” Percy asked, unimpressed. “Don’t you have a janitor for that?” Was Nick the janitor? If this pinched-face little girl was harassing cleaning staff then Percy was going to file a complaint.

But the girl just looked surprised, as if the idea of having a janitor was foreign and strange. “No janitor would even make it through the doors.” But then her eyes narrowed, as if a thought just occurred to her. “Wait. How did you…”

However Percy did what, he would never know. The door to the leasing office cracked open, and Percy scrambled off his seat in excitement. The girl stood stiffly at attention, clipboard on her hip, as Mom stepped out of the office. She looked very tired, but weirdly relieved.

There was a man right behind her, just as white and blonde as the girl. Percy wasn’t surprised: he could pick out a real ‘daughter-of-the-manager’ type right away. The man didn’t look like every other landlord Percy had ever seen - no moustache, for one - and he didn’t look old enough for the part anyway. He wasn’t old, but he definitely wasn’t an elementary schooler. He had a broad, honest face, but he was too muscular and strong looking and landlordey to be trustworthy. 

 Percy decided the weird landlord, with a mop of yellow hair like golden thread and a scary eyebrow with one long scar cutting straight through, was twenty five years old. Clearly the result of nepotism in the landlord industry.

Mom smiled when she saw Percy, who quickly pasted on his most innocent expression. Her eyes caught on the girl, who was glaring daggers at him. The landlord’s eyes caught on Percy’s own wrinkled nose. “Percy, good! Are you making friends?”

It was not an innocent question. It was a ‘please don’t ruin this for me too, Percy’ question. It was a ‘I’m very tired and I need you not to make things hard’ question. Percy was well acquainted with them. But maybe the girl was too, because when the landlord looked at the girl she also abruptly quailed. “I hope you’re being a good host, Annabeth.”

The unfortunately named Annabeth and Percy glanced at each other in silent and instant understanding. 

“Yeah, Annabeth’s really fun!” Percy said instantly. He was not going to ruin this for Mom again. Or, at least, he would try to hold off ruining it for her as long as possible. Even if this stupid apartment wasn’t in Staten island. “She was telling me about -”

“Taxes!” Annabeth said smoothly, a much better liar than Percy. “And Percy was telling me about Batman.”

They both looked very cute and very low matinence on command, the perfect picture of children who did not make their moms live in motels. 

Percy was rewarded when Mom smiled in relief. She put a hand on Percy’s shoulder, squeezing tightly. “I’m so glad. Percy, this is Mr. Castellan. Why don’t you say hi?”

“Hi Mr. Castellan,” Percy said obediently. “My name’s Percy Jackson, I’m in third grade.”

The landlord smiled at him with closed and tight lips, but it was Annabeth who spoke in interest. “Percy like Percival, King Arthur’s knight who searched for the Holy Grail?”

Uh, whatever? “Percy like the Greek hero Perseus,” Percy said shortly. “But I’m not Greek. My Grandma was from Guadalajara.”

Annabeth’s eyes widened. She glanced at the landlord, whose expression was impossible to read. “Are you sure?”

“I know where my own grandmother is from!”

“She didn’t say that you didn’t, sweetie,” Mom said, and Percy guiltily shut up. “Percy, why don’t you and Mr. Castellan talk in his office for a little while? I have to fill out some paperwork, and I think you two have a lot to talk about.”

Percy looked up at her with wide eyes. Mom never left him alone with strangers. And paperwork already? “Are we moving in today?”

“You two talk for a bit,” Mom said firmly. “I’ll be right back.”

When Percy was pushed into Mr. Castellan’s office it felt more like he was a Roman Christian being tossed into the lion’s den in punishment for heresy. And when Mom settled him into an uncomfortable and weird-smelling chair in front of the teetering desk and kissed him on the temple before leaving the office, he abruptly felt like he had jumped into Grandma’s book of Bible Stories. 

Mr. Landlord’s office was as dirty and run-down as the rest of the complex. The big box AC rattled with clinks and whirrs as it shuddered against the sticky summer heat, and the landlord’s desk was covered in thick stacks of paper and chewed-up pencils. When he sat back down behind the stained wood, the chair seemed just a little too big for him. He sunk strangely in it, the vinyl flaking off and floating into the ground. There were a lot of crayon drawings taped to the wall, and there was a light dusting of crumpled post-it notes on the ground. 

Mr. Landlord tried to smile at Percy. Tried being the operative word: when he smiled it was too thin and without teeth, more pained than reassuring. It didn’t reach his watery blue eyes. 

Percy hunched on the rickety chair. This guy set off every alarm bell he had, which was plenty. And no, it wasn’t just because he was a guy, Ms. Brown. For added security and self defense, Percy casually slid a capped ballpoint pen on the old desk in front of him into his sleeve. Batman was always prepared, and Percy was too. He can hack up any creepy guy and protect Mom any day of the week. 

The landlord smiled wider, even worse. “Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. My name’s Luke Castellan, and I’m the supervisor here. Running into Annabeth first thing’s pretty bad luck, huh?” At Percy’s unimpressed eyebrow, he quickly added, “Annabeth keeps the whole place running, really. She’s...pretty convinced that this complex rests on her eight year old back, so she’s a little stressed out all the time. If she gets frustrated at you, don’t take it personally, okay?”

So she does help shelve books. Percy was a keen judge of character. “Why does she do it? You can’t make her be the superintendent. That’s child labor.”

Luke Castellan stared at Percy unblinkingly. He blinked about as often as a snake, but five times as quickly: as if he didn’t want to let you out of his sight for even a second. Finally, he said, “I’m fifteen.”

Percy gave Mr. Luke the stink-eye, clearly communicating that he did not trust even fifteen year olds (who were high schoolers, and even less trustworthy than adult-adults) as far as he could throw them. Especially fifteen year olds like Luke: who were too tall, with too-mature eyes and a particularly unhappy expression. Percy communicated perfectly that there was nothing trustworthy about this family of juvenile landlords, but he was just too polite to say so. 

But that just made Mr. Luke sigh, as if he was tired instead of angry. “Annabeth’s my...ward, I guess. I just look after her. But she doesn’t like being looked after, so she makes up for it by looking after everyone else. I’m not saying I do a good job.”

He’s a landlord and he has a ward? Percy finally perked up. “So you’re like Batman?”

Mr. Luke stared at him unblinkingly, before finally saying, “Yes, except Batman doesn’t have superpowers.”

Percy had the sense he was being made fun of. “You don’t have super powers,” he accused, crossing his arms. “Nobody has super powers.”

Mr. Luke smiled, wan and weak. “Not even you, Percy?”

Percy froze. 

Five seconds too late, Percy made himself laugh stupidly. People were quick to believe that Percy was stupid, and sometimes Percy helped them think that. It got him out of trouble sometimes - not always, but enough that it was useful. “If I had superpowers, I’d run super fast everywhere just like the Flash!”

But Mr. Luke just hummed, and flipped through some of the papers in a folder in front of him. Percy abruptly began sweating. Mom had given him those papers. They were records. This was like every time a principal had drawn up ‘proof’ against him in a court of law. “Your mom said that you both had to move out of your Queens apartment because it flooded.”

“I didn’t unscrew the taps,” Percy said reflexively. “They just came loose! I didn’t even touch them! I didn’t touch the boiler either!”

“The boiler?” Mr. Luke flipped back a few pages. “Oh, right. Your school.”

Percy slouched in his seat and folded his arms across his chest, stewing. He always sounded guiltiest when he denied it. He should go back to playing dumb. Pretend that he had no idea what water was. He had gotten away with it when he was six during that one birthday party at the aquarium, but something about being a third grader meant that people expected that you have basic observational skills. 

It was stupid. There was no way to win. If he said that he didn’t do it then he sounded guilty. If he tried to point out how it was impossible for him to break the boiler and destroy the gym or whatever, using facts and logic and a rhetorical argument like the Youtube videos taught him, then they just told him he was making excuses. Sometimes Percy had the impression that everybody just wanted him to supervillain cackle like the Joker and brag about how terrible he was. Maybe he’d give that a shot once he entered middle school. It seemed like an evil teenage thing to do. 

Percy Jackson was a liar, a thief, a cheat, a menace, and a bad kid. There was nothing more to be: not for someone like Percy. 

But Mr. Luke didn’t threaten him, or give him ‘one last chance’ or anything. He just leaned forward, hands folded on the desk. His thumb was worrying at a small starburst scar on his hand, betraying a strange nervousness. 

“Percy, can I talk to you man-to-man?”

Percy, who did not like men, squinted at Mr. Luke suspiciously. “Why.”

“Because this isn’t a topic for a kid. It’s a topic that...kills children, and turns them into little adults. I wish I didn’t have to broach it with you. But I think that you haven’t been a kid for a long time, Percy, and I don’t want to insult you by pretending otherwise.” Mr. Luke frowned, and Percy found himself involuntarily straightening. What was he talking about? “You were right. There was no way for you to have flooded your apartment, much less twice. There was no way for you to ruin your gym, or damage that aquarium. Much less...everything else in your file. No kid is that much of a miniature hurricane when he isn’t even trying. It sucks. It’s not your fault. And now your Mom’s credit score is so bad that she can’t afford another apartment. If it wasn’t for the fact that she saw our really generous listing in the paper, she would have had to move you two away from her home.”

She was thinking of moving them both to New Jersey. Percy’s lips tightened, and he knew that Mr. Luke saw it. 

“This is an apartment building that provides shelter to a lot of special cases, just like you. It’s...full of kids who break things when they don’t mean to. Kids with a parent couldn’t handle them, or who couldn’t protect them. We have a lot of ways to keep families like yours safe, and to give you a home.”

Percy stared at Mr. Luke. He seemed deadly serious, as serious as anybody had ever been to Percy, despite the crazy stuff he was saying. Safe? Safe from what?

Safe from those weird, giant dogs that chased Percy and tore off half his jeans? Safe from that old lady in the deli with the slobbering bag and beady eyes? Safe from broken water pipes, from ruined floors and busted walls, from Percy himself? 

Finally, all Percy could think to ask was, “How do you know that I’m a special case?”

“Because not just anyone could see that listing,” Mr. Luke said. “And - uh, no offense - but you are one of the most obviously inhuman children I’ve met in my life.”

Percy’s jaw dropped in complete, unadulterated rage, and without even stopping to think through his actions he withdrew the ballpoint pen from his pocket. He uncapped it, fully intending on doing something dramatically yet harmlessly violent with it, but he didn’t get the chance. 

The ballpoint pen turned into a gleaming bronze and silver sword. Percy screamed. Percy fell out of his chair. Percy did not get the opportunity to look cool and dangerous at all.

****

And now Percy had Greek god stuff to worry about!

Didn’t Percy have enough problems? He couldn’t stay in a school, they couldn’t keep an apartment, their new landlord didn’t blink enough, and now he was the kid of a Greek god? Apparently he had been spending his entire life running from monsters and he just hadn’t noticed? That explained the stupid scary dog!

Percy knew much more about Greek gods than the average kid, since Mom was a huge fan. Yeah, Mom! Apparently you were a big fan! Jesus, Mom!

What’s this dumb stuff about Poseidon! That had freaked out Mr. Luke, and made him ask a lot of questions like ‘are you sure’ and ‘there’s a lot of minor gods who like to pass themself off as someone more impressive to mortals’. Then Annabeth, who had been listening at the door like a sneak and who ran in all heroically when he almost accidentally stabbed Mr. Luke, freaked out and called his mom a liar. His mom!

Then Percy tried to stab her with his new sword. Mom made Percy apologize for trying to stab Annabeth. Mr. Luke made Annabeth apologize for insulting Percy’s mother. Percy was beginning to worry that he and Annabeth may be mortal enemies. 

Mr. Luke had tried explaining a bunch of stuff about monsters and ‘the Sight’ and why Percy’s life was terrible to him, but Percy already knew his life was terrible and he wasn’t interested. Percy ended up furiously swinging his new sword at a tree outside as Mom signed a bunch of forms and talked with Mr. Luke some more, but she hustled him home pretty quickly afterwards. 

Percy didn’t give the sword back. Mr. Luke, wisely, did not ask for it back.

Mom kept on making a face on the subway back to the motel like she had been waiting her entire life for Percy to ask all of these questions, and she was preparing herself for it. She kept on glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, watching Percy kick his feet against the hard plastic seat. It was obvious. But Percy didn’t have anything to say to her. They spent the rest of the day in silence, just focusing on packing up and getting everything ready to move. Jacksons were practical, Mom said. 

Jacksons were practical. Percy was practical, too. It was only in the deep pits of night, as Percy lay in bed holding up his sword and watching it reflect the soft lamplight above the creaky wooden table where Mom was doing work, that he asked. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

The sword was really cool. It was pure bronze, with the middle gleaming pure silver. There was some Greek writing inscribed down the center that Percy had no idea how to read, although he had spent an hour scouring the internet looking for a translation. The handle was tough white cord, stiff and starchy but fraying a little at the edges. 

Mr. Luke said it was named something, but Percy forgot what it was. He had been a bit busy almost impaling the guy. 

Mom’s fingers froze over the keyboard. Her back was turned to him, so he couldn’t see her face, but her spine was stiff and rigid. 

Finally, after a long silence, she said, “I didn’t want you to think that there was anything different about you.”

“So what?” Percy asked, his eyes pricking rebelliously. Stupid water. “You let me think that I was a bad person who ruined your life?”

“Percy, no!” Mom turned around, expression crumpled. The dim light showed the heavy bags under Mom’s eyes in sharp relief. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, baby. None of this is your fault, you understand? That’s what this business with your father means: that none of it was your fault. That’s all it means.”

If that was true, Percy thought, then why couldn’t she have told him before?

But Percy was afraid that if he said that, then he would start crying, and Percy was way too old to cry. Only weak little babies cried. 

“I’m sorry my dad’s a loser who ruined your life, Mom,” Percy said.

“Percy…”

But Percy refused to answer her, putting his sword down next to him and pretending to go to sleep. He kept it next to him in bed all night, gripping its hilt tight, and the firm and cool pressure of the steel in his hand soothed him when the thought of a father didn’t. 

***

They moved in the next day.

The next day! Percy was livid. He barely had any time to pack up his toys into his backpack, and Mom didn’t even have time to help him back up his blue Spider-man suitcase. He had to do it all by himself, and then Mom came in and told him he was folding everything up wrong and that he had to redo it. If she had so many problems with it, she should have helped him and gave him more than one day to move out of their dumb motel! 

When people moved on TV there were always moving vans and buff dudes in baseball caps. But Percy was much better at moving then any of those idiots: all it took was a suitcase (of clothes and toiletries and stuff) and a backpack (of toys and school supplies and stuff). 

Percy’s backpack had the Power Rangers on it, in glossy plastic. Its contents were always the same, through every move: Batman, Golduck, Bulbasaur, Blue Eyes White Dragon, Raphael, a stegosaurus with a missing tail named Hedward, and a little book full of pictures of him and his mom and some cards and stuff. There was a picture of him and Grandma in the apartment in Staten Island that he lived in until he was six, and a 5th birthday card she had given him six months before she died. Written inside, in her looping and faded script, was a sentence Percy had read over and over and over again. ‘Tu angel de la guarda trabaja horas extra por tí. Así que acuérdate de decirle gracias ¿Sí, mi niño?'’

Percy was inclined to agree with her. God should pay his guardian angel overtime. That, or pay one to go to Olympus and collect child support.

The image was funny to Percy - the idea of his angel with her wings and halos showing up at Poseidon’s door and tapping her watch as she held out her hat. It was so funny, it was the first thing he told Mr. Luke when they met him at the gates to the apartment complex. Mom was huffing behind him with her two suitcases, while Percy was busy juggling his own backpack, suitcase, and sword. 

Mr. Luke looked alarmed to see the both of them, although Mom had called ahead and arranged to meet him here. Worse, Annabeth was next to him, still holding a clipboard. She didn’t look alarmed, just mad. 

“Did you bring Riptide onto public transportation?” Annabeth squawked. “You have no sense of discretion!”

Was Riptide the name of the sword? Whatever. Percy would have named it Hurricane. “I know words you don’t know too, you don’t have to brag,” Percy said flatly. 

“Yeah, the gods are filthy little child support evaders,” Mr. Luke said easily, instantly endearing himself to Percy. Mom rolled her eyes as she put her suitcases down, but she was clearly fighting a smile. “Don’t worry, I dragged them to court. Sued them for all they’re worth.”

“How on earth did you do that?” Mom asked, interested. 

“Trickery and rhetoric,” Annabeth said proudly.

“Swords,” Mr. Luke said. 

“What did you squeeze them for?” Percy asked, excited. 

Mr. Luke winked. And he still didn’t ask for his sword back. Maybe he wasn’t all bad. 

The apartment complex itself wasn’t nearly as big as a lot of Brooklyn complexes, looking more like the little apartment complexes in Queens that Percy was used to. It was three separate three-story buildings arranged in a square, with one side holding the small leasing office and a parking lot. It was open-air, with the apartment doors opening directly outside. There was a really big courtyard in the center, and despite himself Percy got a little excited.

It was awesome. There was a huge, sprawling tree right in the center of the courtyard. It was gigantic, bigger than any tree Percy had ever seen in his life. It seemed like it didn’t even belong in New York, like it was a transplant from the California Redwoods or Canada or something. Its leaves were waving in a nonexistent breeze, and something about it just seemed so magical and otherworldly to Percy. 

But that was only half of the awesome things. The other awesome thing was that there were kids everywhere.

The tree provided shade to a couple scattered gangs of kids, sitting around and laughing. There was a rusty set of monkey bars, which some kids were playing on, and there was a big dirt rectangle where other kids were hitting each other on the head with wooden plastic swords. There were groups of girls eating lunch, and a gang of boys playing soccer in the corner that made Percy immediately want to jump in and play too. Percy dominated at soccer. 

“The East and South buildings are where we all live,” Annabeth informed Mom. “The West building is where the training rooms and storage rooms and administrative rooms - that’s my office - and everything is. It also has guest units for the local spirits that like to visit. We just had ten Bacchae stay for a week. They were backpacking to Woodstock. We have very good inter-community relationships here.”

“That’s amazing,” Mom said faintly. Mr. Luke was smiling faintly, eyes fixed on the big tree. Percy found himself staring at Mr. Luke, watching with interest the soft but firm pride in his eyes. “Luke said that this property’s safe from…” 

She glanced at Percy quickly, cutting herself off. But Annabeth just huffed. 

“I almost got eaten by monsters twenty times when I was seven,” Annabeth informed Mom imperiously. “We’re not babies. Connor Stoll says if you’re old enough to get eaten by monsters then you’re old enough to know that they exist.”

Percy decided immediately that he liked Connor Stoll, and maybe even Annabeth too. 

“The tree protects us,” Luke said. “Wherever the tree is, we’re safe. Not even the gods date step foot beyond the leasing office here.”

“Because of the tree?” Mom asked. 

Luke smiled - sharp, piercing, and strange. “Sure, let’s say that.”

But Mom just frowned. She looked over the courtyard of kids - some of whom were already starting to whisper and stare. Annabeth waved at a gaggle of identically blonde children, and for the first time Percy wondered who she was the daughter of. Probably the bossiest god. Maybe Athena. Or, like, Hephaestus. Definitely Hephaestus. 

“You said that there’s nobody over eighteen here,” Mom said to Luke. “Luke, there’s a six year old on those monkey bars.”

“If you’re under thirteen, you live with someone over thirteen,” Luke said to her. Annabeth was still frowning in disapproval at Percy’s sword. He stuck his tongue out at her. “Two people to a unit, we try to pair the oldest with the youngest. Lucy lives with Henrique, he’s seventeen. It’s the best we can do.”

“Surely there has to be someone…?”

“Adults have never helped us. They never will.” Luke looked away sharply. “We’ve been in Brooklyn a year. You’re the first adult who’s made her way here. Most other parents with a kid as powerful as Percy would have -”

He cut himself off sharply, glancing at Percy, and Percy scowled up at him. He thought that Luke was being honest. Maybe he was just another old guy afraid to say what everybody else knew. 

“I’ll help Ms. Jackson settle in,” Annabeth said suddenly. She held out her hands to Percy, who reflexively hugged his luggage to his chest. “You guys are in unit 5. It’s on the bottom floor. If you flood it, then we can fix it okay. Give me your luggage, I’ll put it in your unit.”

Percy stared at her, overwhelmed with that simple signal of care. No threats about if he flooded it, no warnings or sickly sweet faux-concern. Just understanding, and acceptance. 

He silently gave her his bags. 

She seemed surprised when she felt how light they were. Percy shrugged awkwardly at her face, crossing his arms tightly around her chest. “Don’t touch my stuff, okay?”

“Sure,” Annabeth said, before pausing a beat. “We have a TV in our place. #1. Do you want to come over tonight and watch Winx Club?”

“Yeah,” Percy said, overwhelmed. “Sure.”

Mr. Luke put a hand on Percy’s back as Annabeth guided Mom to a corner unit. Percy couldn’t help but notice that the door to the unit was already propped open. Wait - there were people going in and out!

There was a tall, buff teenager, carrying two chairs underneath each arm. There was another group of three teenage girls, carrying a table between them. Two other younger kids were carrying boxes and laughing. They were bringing everything into the unit, and other younger kids were running in and out with cleaning supplies. 

From a distance, Percy saw Mom stop in her tracks. Annabeth tugged at her shirt and got her to bend down, whispering something in her ear. A boy with sandy brown hair ran up, taking Mom’s suitcases from her and bringing them into the unit. 

“Your Mom mentioned that you were missing some furniture,” Mr. Luke said. “The Hermes and Aphrodite kids all pitched in to get your home looking like a home. I hope you’ll like it.”

Percy clutched his sword to his chest, speechless. 

Mr. Luke smiled down at him, that same wan and weak smile, and put a hand on his back. He gently pushed Percy forward, towards the tree. “Come with me for a minute?”

They silently approached the sprawling, ancient tree. As they came closer, Percy could see that its bark was gnarled and knotted, with perfect handholds for climbing and perfect boughs for resting in the summer sun. He could already see a few kids resting in high boughs, taking a nap in the humid and sticky sun. 

“Percy, I’d like to introduce you to someone.” Mr. Luke’s voice was quiet, like he was in church. He looked up at the tree, peering far into the leaves as if he was trying to find something hidden within them. “This is Thalia. Thalia, this is Percy. He’s the newest member of the family. He’s also your cousin.”

Cousin? Percy looked up at Mr. Luke, eyes wide. “I’m related to a tree?”

Tilted up at the tree, Percy couldn’t see Mr. Luke’s expression. Maybe that was on purpose. “Thalia’s a kid, just like us. Daughter of Zeus. I used to think that she was the closest thing to an adult I knew, but...I’m as old as she is, now. I guess one day soon I’ll be older than she ever got to be.” 

Oh. The tree was, like, from the ashes of some dead girl. Awkward. Percy stared at the thick and arching roots of the tree, feeling weird.

“Thalia, please protect Percy. I can already tell that he’s going to grow up to be very strong and brave. Please help us make sure that Percy never has to be strong. That he’s never brave. I can already tell he’s going to need a lot of your help.” He looked down at Percy for the first time, and for the first time Percy could see just a little warmth in those icy blue eyes. “You’re going to have to work overtime for him. So make sure to say thank you, Percy. Okay?”

“Thank you, Thalia,” Percy said obediently. He bowed awkwardly, uncertain what to do. The sword scraped awkwardly against his thigh. “Thanks for letting me into your home.”

“Welcome home, Percy,” Mr. Luke said, and for the first time Percy almost believed it. 

[musicallisto]

Hi! I'd like to request ships for the PJO, Marvel and Playchoices fandoms (my fav books are ES, TC&TF and ILITW) if you don't mind! I'm a straight female (she/her) who's intelligent, hard-working, ambitious, sassy, sarcastic, determined, helpful, caring, logical and analytical, but also arrogant, bossy, stubborn, overly competitive, fussy over my friend's health (both mental and physical) and very averse to big changes. My dream is to become a lawyer because I want to use my skills to (1/2)

Help others. My hobbies include reading books, watching films and over-analyzing both. I suck at anything remotely physical but I'm rather good at all things school-related. For the song thing I'm going to choose Avicii's "Without You" because it's been stuck in my head all week xD. Anyways, thanks so much for doing this and sorry if I made any mistakes, English is not my first language 💙💙💙

I Ship You With...

Percy Jackson

there’s surely a lot of energy going on in this relationship, but even before you two were together, your friends used to say that even Mount Olympus could collapse with the strength of your passion (passion meaning ‘stubborn as HELL tendencies’, but I didn’t tell you that)

it’s honestly kind of tiring at times to be the protective, caring, and even fussy girlfriend of a demi-god who’s been the chosen one of probably 12 prophecies (and counting) and has a knack for fighting ancient monsters of legend and immortal creatures

you have to practically beg Percy for him to lay down a little so you can take of his injuries and take a nap with you, mainly because you’re so concerned about his physical and mental strain, but also for the selfish pleasure of having him only to you

“Oh come on, I’m gonna be fine, it’s really no big deal” “Perseus Jackson you have been fighting mythological monsters for two weeks straight I am COMMANDING YOU to take a nap with me”

him being the cheeky hero that he is - “well, if this is what my general commands” with a sly smile, but you can read the absolute exhaustion beneath his sea-green eyes

he never really had much interested in anything acamedic or school-related, what with his dyslexia and ADHD making it harder for him to concentrate for long periods of time on given subjects (and, you know, the occasional saving-the-world thing taking up a little of his time), but once he discovers how passionate you are about school stuff he’s tempted to make an effort and support you

when you have a big test coming up and you have to study, Percy typically sits (spins, actually) on a chair in your bedroom while you’re at your desk and randomly exclaims pop quizzes about the subject to make sure that you know everything

“what was the name of the gladiator who led a slave uprising against the Roman Republic?” “Spartacus” “correct. The gods talk about him sometimes. Jason heard he’s a fun dude.” “Percy, you’re not helping me” “I am helping you! how many students in your class have heard from Jupiter himself that Spartacus was a fun dude? you’re really gonna make a difference thanks to me.”

he just asks for a kiss in return; consider it payment for helping you pass your ancient history exam with flying colors he’s an all-around amazingly supportive boyfriend, though

Tony Stark

did you just say you’re overly competitive? oh mygod

if there is one thing that Tony Stark hates more than losing, it’s losing to you. when you get that smug little smile of yours and start prancing around the Avengers Tower like you’re queen of the world because you beat him in whatever stupid thing you were both doing and it’s !!!! ARGH infuriating he hates it. no, really, he does. totally does not like it at all. it’s only for the pleasure of CRUSHING YOU to pieces that he constantly challenges you to anything and everything.

chess nights at the Avengers Tower have never been wilder and tenser. (except for Bruce, who just enjoys the whole debacle, giggling in the background, because he can see you’re both so bad and he could have won this whole thing three rounds ago. unless you’re looking to prolong the fun?)

both of you taunting the other to give up now and save themselves the humiliation of the slaughter you’re preparing. metaphorical or physical slaughter, no one really knows, especially because it never comes. the only way these dreaded, hellish chess games end is either in blood after Natasha throws the board in utter despair, or with you both having fallen asleep in the middle of moving your knight

there is a tenderness, however, in the way you care about each other, but you don’t show it that much, as if this sudden vulnerability came into conflict with the other sides of your personality. but it is undeniable. you care about each other, deeply. it’s enough to see how whomever woke up first from the infamous chess half-night wraps the other in a blanket and gently eyes them as the sun rises slowly

how you nag him to take a break when he’s been overworking himself, fighting all the threats and taking upon his shoulders the responsibility of saving the whole universe (and more)

and how he holds you steady, close to his heart, in the dead of the night when New York City almost falls silent and there’s nothing but your appeased breathing and the faint echo of a moonlit breeze

Lucas Thomas (It Lives In The Woods)

nerd meets prep in three, two, one...

(notice how I didn’t clarify who’s the nerd and who’s the prep)

I mean, if Lucas isn’t a nerd already, he turns into a big one whenever he’s with you. how could he not? you exude radiance and positivity and passion whenever you explain in great detail whatever you book you finished last week and you’re still obsessed with. how you pick up on the character development and how clever the symbolism is and just... ugh Lucas please baby read it you’ll see it’s just so good. with a laugh, he says he’ll try to fit it in his schedule. it sounds like the lame excuse you’d give someone when you’re not interested at all, but actually the first thing he does on his way back home from school is stop at the public library and borrow the book

he finishes it in one night, as you can tell by the foot-long bags under his eyes the next morning at school (longer than usual, anyways), but also by the content, even smug little smile that he wears on his face.

“so, what did you think about it??” you ask, hopeful, when you notice that he doesn’t seem completely apalled by the experience

cue montage of you two enthusiastically discussing every aspect of the book and the writing and the worldbuilding over lunch, in between classes, and even when you’re supposed to be studying

when you actually do study though, it’s always very intense because Lucas takes his homework and academic success very seriously. maybe even too seriously? you’re the one who makes sure that he catches a break every two hours to grab some water or take a breath of fresh air

he doesn’t need it, though, he retaliates, and you would find it agonizingly cute and endearing if you weren’t so mad that the boy will NOT listen to you. “you are my breath of fresh air”, he murmurs with a boop on your nose, before getting back to work

that absolute, lovestruck, handsome and brilliant fool