#pjo argus

[ffreire-frogs]

Chaotic Apollo kid steals a sword and gets on Argus nerves <3

-> The first two were from my last time reading the series, in 2019. -> The last two were for my reading partner. Translation: "Hey! Come on?! The boy's having a terrible first day!" "We all had... I bet you wish Argus were here to give a damn, huh?" // "Argus told us not to break anything!" "ARGUS ISN'T HERE!"

Can you tell I'm still bitter about something here?

[the-pjo-analyst]

Chapter 10 -  I Ruin a Perfectly Good Bus

Theme of the day: Foresight

Foresight can basically have two meanings: prudence or provision for the future, and being able to see the future. There was a bit of both in this chapter!

We get a look into what the trio packs for their quest, including items that Chiron/CHB provides. They get useful provisions like ambrosia and nectar for wounds, mortal cash and drachmas for all their regular and godly transactions. Percy has very few possessions with him at the camp, as was already mentioned when he moved to cabin 3, so he just has basic essentials. Annabeth has a cool hat and a wicked dagger, but also a book bc a girl’s gotta stay entertained somehow while stuck traveling with two boys across the country lol. Grover has his items to disguise himself as human, a reed pipe for his goat magic except he only knows two (2) songs, and lots of snacks for the long roadtrip. Although most of all this gets destroyed at the end of the chapter sjdkfhs. But just when you think Percy is going out their weaponless, he receives good old Riptide! Whoever enchanted her must’ve been like there’s a kid who’ll use this in the future who can’t keep pens on him for the life of him and they’re probably the realist person in this series. Did Percy a solid lol.

The Hermes shoes Luke gives to Percy, at face value, is foresight on Luke’s part. Seemingly, he wants them to help Percy in someway on his quest. I completely forgot about the shoes tbh, but they’re an important part of the plot later on lol, and a clue to who the traitor is. Because they’re programed to drag the wearer into Tartarus when they enter the underworld and deliver certain godly attributes to a certain Titan. So ig the shoes are Luke’s foresight, just not in the way we might initially expect. Although he definitely didn’t have the foresight that Percy wouldn’t be the one wearing the shoes lmao. Should’ve thought about how a son of Poseidon can’t take to the skies! I wonder if Luke’s awkwardness in wishing Percy good luck was bc he knew that he shouldn’t care, but did anyway. I’m not a Luke apologist in anyway, but he’s such a complicated character that he’s fascinating to analyze lol. And the way Percy admires him!! It’s so cute. Makes the betrayal so much more tragic ;A;

There’s lots of foreshadowing this chapter. Besides the shoes, Kronos is mentioned, Medusa is indirectly referenced, the hints with the Furies saying where is it, and Prometheus is also mentioned although he’s not officially introduced until book 5. I’ll even include the tourist that takes a picture of crazed Percy fleeing the bus in the list too lol. There might be others I missed.

Backtracking a little, I know Grover meant well when talking about Sally, but I wouldn’t tell someone that they should be grateful when a decision or action results in abuse in some way. Like yes, Sally having the foresight in keeping Percy around someone that could mask his demigod smell was a good thing in the long run, but they both suffered from it. I don’t blame Sally at all, because all she wanted was for her son to survive. And who knows what she herself had to deal with when Percy wasn’t around. Maybe he was around for the worse parts and it’s just not narrated. Maybe it wasn’t the best decision per se, but the other options were either Percy dying or Percy growing up without a father and a mother, so 🤷🏾‍♀️ Can you imagine how he would’ve felt if Sally just left him at camp as a small child. Like they still could’ve kept in contact but Percy probably wouldn’t feel good about it. We might’ve gotten a different story if that was the turn of events. There would be no blue in Percy’s life! Like.... what would Percy be without his obsession for the color blue??

Anywho, it’s late and I’m ranting 😂 I’ll end it with a pondering over what exactly Chiron heard in these prophecies he keeps mentioning 🤨

Small things:

I’ll never get over when we found out Riptide is a girl and the Sword of Summer proceeded to flirt with her lolol

I can’t tell whether Argus is winking at Percy for his pizza joke or charmed by the preteen flirting lol. The very first Percabeth shipper xD

Have I mentioned I love their banter lol

Once more, we get a glimpse into Percy’s extreme loyalty. He can never leave a friend behind 🥺

I had a realization that Hilary Duff’s “So Yesterday” only came out a few years before TLT did and I don’t think I fully comprehended how old this book is until now sjdfhskjdf

Previous: Chapter 9 - I Am Offered a Quest

Next: Chapter 11 - We Visit the Garden Gnome Emporium

[mediumgayitalian]

“Death Breath! Hey! Wait up!”

Nico bolts. He makes it about ten feet away from his cabin door before Will and his stupid long legs catch up with him, throwing an arm over his shoulder and then immediately tripping over his own foot and sending them both sprawling.

“I hate you,” Nico groans, curling up on the grass.

It’s too early for any of this. He was just trying to get back at Cecil for covering everything he owned in aluminum foil last week — and then he was going to go right the hell back to bed.

He knew he should have fucking shadow travelled.

“Aw, c’mon. You love me.”

Nico pretends to gag. The only thing he gets is Will’s crossed arms and raised eyebrow, so he doubles down and really starts to retch. Whatever. It’s eight thirty in the morning. He fell asleep at five. Rational thinking is a distant, distant memory.

“Whenever you’re done.”

“I will be sick at the thought for the next eight weeks,” Nico informs him. For dramatic effect, he looks up at Will’s face — which he cant even see, since the sun’s in his eyes — and shudders.

“You know, you have a genuine, beautiful talent for the dramatic arts, the likes of which I have never seen. Are you sure you’re not secretly an Apollo kid?”

I better not be, ‘cause then all the staring I do at your calves would be real weird, he thinks to himself, then considers whether he can convince Kayla to give him a lobotomy. He thinks she might like the opportunity.

“Piss off,” he says instead of that, artfully schooling his face into the aristocratic mask he’s perfected from his father, squaring his shoulders and looking at Will like he’s a pebble lodged in the flesh of his heel.

Will rolls his eyes. “Get up, Sharpay Evans. You’re gonna stain your shirt worse than you already have.”

Nico sniffs haughtily. “My shirt is perfectly fine, thank you very much. I order them in black for a reason.”

He notices a giant grass stain on the side when he stands. He ignores it. Will does not.

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re the Goth King.”

“Ghost King.”

“Right, right. That helps your case.”

Nico shoves him, fighting back a grin. “Whatever, Solace. What are you bothering me for?”

“Oh, yeah!”

Nico is a deeply cheesy person. Down to the core of him, past all the sarcasm and prickliness and trauma, or whatever, he’s made of fucking mozzarella, because what business does he have comparing Will’s eyes to the morning winter sky? Huh? That’s embarrassing. It isn’t even original. If Nico caught anyone saying shit like that out loud in real life, he’s collapse into the shadows from embarrassment. He needs electroshock therapy.

“I was thinking —”

“Rare,” Nico quips, just to watch Will’s eyebrow twitch. It does. Nico smiles.

“I was thinking,” he repeats, mocking glare in Nico’s direction, “that you and me go to the city this afternoon.”

“You chased me across camp for that?”

“Oh, please, Zombie Face. I chased you maybe twenty yards.”

“I think all that time sniffing rubbing alcohol has deteriorated your brain.”

“I think I’m going to shove you in the lake.”

“Feel free to try. You will not wake up the next morning.”

“Nah.” Will shoots him a smug smile. Nico trips over air. “I can be as annoying as I want and you still won’t kill me. I have impunity.”

Nico rolls his eyes, refusing to dignify that with an answer. The less he acknowledges his own shame, the more likely it will go away on its own. Probably.

“Anyways. Guess what Cecil told me today.”

“His last will and testament?” Nico guesses, suddenly remembering his reason for being up this early.

“No, no, not that.” Will pauses. “Well, I mean, he did. I passed it on to Chiron. He has requested that when you maul him, you avoid his face, because he wants to be a sexy corpse and he can’t do that if you destroy his prettiest features.”

“Noted. Please inform him I will come for him within a window of the next fifteen hours.”

Theres a very particular face Will makes when he finds something genuinely funny. A smile a little more crooked than his regular one, teeth working at his bottom lip to hold it back, left dimple appearing in his cheek. It makes Nico want to do stupid things like press his thumb into said divot. He instead shoves his hands deeply into his pockets.

“I’ll let him know.” He clears his throat. “Anyways. You know what day it is today?”

Nico squints. “Tues…day? No, Wednesday.” He glances at Will. It’s been maybe….three days since their weekly sleepover? No, fuck, four. He thinks. “Thursday. Final answer.”

“Monday,” Will corrects, “and, gods, you need to sleep more. And a calendar. But no, that’s not my point.”

“Feel free to get to it.”

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” Will finally explains. He tries for exasperated, but it doesn’t work — he’s clearly excited, bouncing on the balls of his feet and waving his hands. “And The Five Seasons is doing half off for couples, so you and I need to go!”

He waves his hands, as if tying off some grand reveal. His (blue blue blue blue) eyes are squeezed nearly shut by the force of his beam, which lessons slightly with every second Nico does not respond.

“William,” he says finally. He opens his mouth, then closes it again. “William.”

Will pouts. “What?”

“Explain how this is relevant to me, William.”

“Aw, c’mon, Nico! Don’t be difficult!”

“William,” stresses Nico again. “We are not a couple. Did you hit your head again?”

“Well, duh, Neeks, it’s about the scam!” He flaps his hand in a way Nico assumes is meant to convey something. “We’re gonna — eat! Cheap! By pretending to be a couple!” Now both hands are flopping, paired with wide, imploring eyes. “Obviously!”

“Obviously,” Nico repeats, slowly. He instructs one half of his brain to keep its focus on not melting into a puddle of blushing embarrassed goo, and the other to exercise restraint and not strangle the boy in front of him. A headache begins to press behind his eyes. “Will, what the shit.”

“You of all people!” Will throws his hands up. “You love scamming people! You hate corporate holidays! You frequently throw pebbles at people who look, and I quote, too obnoxiously happy! You’re the best hater I know! You should be on board!”

He makes a compelling point. Not that Nico is going to make that easy for him.

“You seem very invested in this,” Nico points out. He manages to keep his voice tastefully judgmental, which he’s very proud of.

“Of course I am! I want cheap Five Seasons food, godsdammit!” He pauses, switching tactics. “Nico,” he says softly. He puts a gently hand on Nico’s forearm, making him freeze. He is suddenly very, very close, and wow, did his hair always frame his face in gentle waves? Has that always been a thing? “I really, really want to scam a restaurant with you.” He smiles, small and crooked and gods, Will doesn’t look dangerous very often, but holy Hades when he does — “Will you make my Valentines, and scam a restaurant with me?”

His fingers begin to trace little circles in the inside of Nico’s wrist.

“Yes,” he squeaks, voice cracking.

“Yes!” Will cheers, pulling his fist. “Yes, hell yes, Nico! We are going to scam the shit out of this restaurant! Half off for couples? How about half off for heathens! Free money, baby! Fuck yeah!”

He turns back towards Nico, smile still wide and radiant, blinking eyes pools of sparkling excitement. Nico’s knees go a little weak. “I’ll come get you at 2! Thank you, Neeks!”

He runs off back to his cabin, only tripping twice. Nico watches him go, feeling a little like he’s tripping, too, with all the swooping his stomach is doing.

“Dude,” he mumbles to himself, shaking his head. “Be normal. Christo.”

It takes him ten straight minutes to get back to his cabin, even though he’s standing at the porch.

———

The obsidian handle of the Hades’ cabin door rattles.

“Neeks!” calls a voice behind the door, “you ready to go?”

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.” Nico scrambles over to the mirror and stares at himself. He turns a little to the left. He scowls. “Shit!” Tugging the shirt off, he turns back to his closet, tossing the piece of clothing to join the rest of its brethren on the floor. “Shitfuck. Fuckshit. Shit.”

“Nico!”

“Coming!”

Tapping his foot rapidly, he looks harder, as if that will magically make the right shirt pop into existence, perfectly pressed, on a hanger. “Shit.”

“What could possibly be taking so long? You’ve had two hours!”

“I care about my appearance, Mr Flip Flops and Scrubs!”

“Bleh bleh! Hurry up!”

Nico bites his lip. It shouldn’t matter. It doesn’t, really. Five Seasons is not actually a fancy restaurant. He and Will just like to joke that it is, because it has tablecloths. They’ve gone there dozens of times before; they stop every time they’re in the city for supply runs or visits to Olympus or to harass their summer-only friends at school. There is literally no reason for Nico to be stressing about what stupid shirt he should wear. Gods know Will is wearing cargo shorts.

“Nico!”

“I’m coming!“

Scowling, he digs through the pile of discarded clothes until he finds the first shirt he’d put on — a dark green button up that was given to him, along with a bunch of other fancy clothes he never wears, by the Aphrodite cabin. He hastily shoves their buttons through their holes, cursing when he mixes them up and has to start over, and sprints over to the mirror to inspect himself.

The shirt looks good. It’s a little tight on the arms, which he suspects was on purpose, and the colour compliments his skin nicely. The buttons are a dark, shiny brown that match his eyes. They pair nice with his simple jeans and black vans, casual enough that he doesn’t look like he’s going to Prom, or anything stupid like that, but dressy enough that it looks like he put effort in. He runs his fingers through his hair, trying to make the staticky strands sit right, but gives up pretty quickly. It’s okay if one thing is a little messy, right?

“Finally,” huffs Will as the door swings open. He glances Nico up and down, then grins. “You look great.”

Nico was right. He is indeed wearing cargo shorts, although to his credit they are his one pair without various Head Medic stains. His sweater, too, is a pretty blue, V-necked, long-sleeved, and a completely different style than his shorts. It clashes horribly. His shoes are, for some reason, bright solid pink. Nico suspects Hecate magic. His hair is braided in two French braids, his favourite way to wear it. Nico believes he is also wearing a touch of sparkly eyeshadow.

“You look dorky.”

Will grins wider. “Thank you! I wouldn’t let anyone help me choose something.”

“You should have.”

“I wanted it to be authentic, Nico. Also, got something for you.” From behind his back, he pulls out a handful of daisies, black dirt clinging to their roots, like he plucked them straight from the ground. Nico is inexplicably endeared by the image, and prays the smile on his face is less soft than he knows it is.

“You got me flowers?”

“Well, duh, Avril Lavigne. We gotta sell the scam.”

Nico brings them close to his face and inhales deeply. They smell fresh and earthy and sweet.

“That’s a stupid reason to bring someone flowers.”

“Give them back, then.”

“No. Fuck off. They’re mine.”

Will’s eyes twinkle. “Okay.” He holds out his arm. “Ready to go?”

The jump is close enough that Nico can convince him to shadow travel, and not just because he sadistically looks forward to the shade of green Will’s face will get after. As dangerous as he knows it can be, he misses it, sometimes. There’s something comforting about it, something soothing and familiar. Shadow travelling to the restaurant eases any lingering nerves.

“If you’re gonna throw up, do it somewhere I can’t hear you,” he says as they materialize in an alley.

Will’s cheeks puff out. “I’m gonna do it on your fuckin’ shoes.”

“I will leave your ass here, Solace, I swear to the gods.” Despite his grumbling, he rests a cool hand on the back of Will’s neck until he’s recovered. “Good?”

“Yeah.” He straightens, dusting off his sweater. “Let’s go.”

Nico follows him down the alley and onto the street, elbowing past the crowd of pedestrians until they approach the familiar glass doors. He rolls his eyes fondly every time Will apologizes to someone.

“You need to be meaner.”

Will sticks his tongue out and tries to trip him. Unfortunately, he only manages to throw himself off balance, nearly crashing to the floor of Nico hadn’t caught him.

“Good gods, Solace.”

“That was your fault!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The doors of the restaurant are absolutely plastered in cheesy red hearts and bows and cartoon kisses. And, as promised, a giant sign promising couples a fifty percent discount on their meals.

“My love,” says Will dramatically, holding out a hand, “shall we?”

Nico sighs, resting his hand delicately in Will’s. It sparks with electricity, like it always does. “I suppose.”

“Party pooper.”

“I’m not hearing oh, Nico, thank you so much for doing this incredibly stupid thing with me, you are my dearest friend and I owe you one. Or three, for some reason.”

Will’s mouth twitches. “Oh, Nico, thank you so much for —”

Nico shoves him, laughing. “Shut up.”

They’re seated pretty quickly, server smiling when they take notice of their clasped hands. Will orders chicken tenders, like he does every single time without fail, and water. Nico orders from the adult menu and absolutely does not make any kind of show about it.

“There is nothing babyish about chicken tendies.”

“Oh, of course not.”

“Is this about you having a credit card? That does not make you more adult than me. It makes you a nepo baby.”

“Mhm. Sure thing.”

“Nobody likes a nepo baby, Nico.”

“Look, I think your drink comes with a complimentary sippy cup.”

Teasing and joking with Will is so easy that Nico forgets the core of their mission. The pink garlands hanging from the ceiling fade into the background — he’s too busy crying with laughter when Will nearly chokes to death on a french fry, too busy flicking a forkful of food at his shoulder just to make him shriek, too busy kicking his shin under the table. He catches Nico’s foot between his the fourth time he tries it, keeping it trapped for the rest of the meal. Nico finds he doesn’t mind.

“And your bill,” says their server when they’re done, setting down a slip of paper. “Forgive me if I’m being presumptuous, but do you two qualify for today’s discount?”

Will smirks widely. “We do,” he says, with no small amount of pleasure. He shoots Nico the least subtle wink of all time. Nico rolls his eyes, cheeks going a little pink.

“Great! You guys have a wonderful Valentine’s day.”

“You, too.”

The server hurries away, turning to their other tables. Will’s smile is wide and smug.

“I knew it would work.”

“Duh. Easiest scam in the world, Solace.”

He sticks his tongue out. “And thus the best payout. You’re welcome.”

“Blah, blah. Gimme the bill.”

“Um, no way, di Angelo. I’m paying.”

He opens his wallet before Nico can stop him, mouthing as he counts the bills.

“What? No! I’m paying.”

“Are not.”

“Am too!”

“Are not.” He sets down a couple twenties. Nico snatches them right back up. “You we’re just complaining about my credit card!”

“Exactly. Thus my need to continue to pretend you don’t have one, so we can continue our friendship.”

“Solace, I swear to the gods.”

“di Angelo, I swear to the gods.”

Nico stares him down. Will stares back. He doesn’t even try to hide his lazy grin, his laughing eyes.

“You’re not paying for this by yourself,” Nico says firmly. “You don’t have a job. My father invented being rich.”

“Sure, but I made you come with me.”

“Ugh!” Nico throws his hands up, imagining how satisfying it would be to wrap his hands around that long neck (followed by his teeth and his tongue and his —). “Why are you impossible? I would’ve gone with you no matter what, stupid!”

As soon as he says it he wants to stick his head in wet cement. For a brief second, something like surprise flits across Will’s face, before he schools it back into his teasing smirk.

“Well, obviously, Death Breath. I’m excellent company.”

“You’re literally the most annoying person I know.”

“And yet here you are, hanging out with me, of your own volition.”

“…I’m paying next time.”

Will grins. “Whatever you say.”

They walk around the city for a while before heading back to camp. Will says it’s because he needs the air, Nico knows it’s because he wants him to rest a little longer before trying to shadow travel again. He tries not to let himself get all melty inside.

(Nobody willingly hangs out around the city for the ‘air’. He’s a shit liar. Nico should be offended.)

It’s nearing curfew by the time they melt back out from behind Thalia’s tree, extra shadows of early evening making the trip easier.

“Those fries are going to make a reappearance,” Will grimaces.

“Not if you don’t want me to kick you in the face.”

“You’d never.”

He would indeed never. But he would rather pass away than admit it, so.

“C’mon, dot face. It’s getting late. You have a cabin to run.”

“Oh, Nico,” Will says in a breathy falsetto, “are you walkin’ me to my cabin? How chivalrous!”

“Nevermind.”

“No no no no no I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Nico allows himself to be tugged, weak to Will’s giggles. “Walk me to my cabin. C’mon.”

Sighing, as if he’s so put out, Nico does. Some point in between Thalia’s tree and the amphitheater, Will’s hand slides down from around his wrist to tangled in between his fingers. Coincidentally, his mouth goes dry.

As they approach the Apollo cabin, Will slows to a stop.

“Hey.” He squeezes their fingers together, smile soft in the dying light of dawn. “I had fun today. Thank you for coming with me.”

Nico swallows. One day, those words will be said in a different context, if everything goes well for Nico, and he’s not sure how the hell he’s going to handle it without bursting into flame. “Yeah, well. Anything to scam a restaurant.”

“Right.”

They walk the last few steps to the cabin, rickety porch steps creaking under their feet as they approach the open door. Will doesn’t let go.

“Hey, Nico.”

“…Yeah?”

Quick as a flash, Will leans in and presses the softest of kisses to his mouth. The noise Nico makes is practically punched out of his lungs, spine going rigid in surprise.

“You can pay for our next date, okay?”

He’s gone before Nico can respond, ducking into his cabin with a small smile and closing the door behind him. Nico stands there, like an idiot, for three solid minutes at the very least, distantly aware of the giggles coming through the open window.

His hand comes up, fingers brushing his bottom lip.

“The little fucker set me up.”

Valentine’s day scam. Please. The only scam today was the scam of Will’s sneaky asking.

Nico smiles.

“You’re a mess, Solace!” he shouts, knowing damn well Will is listening.

He’s right. “Goodnight, Nico!”

Shaking his head, Nico runs back to his cabin, entire body tingling and cheeks aching with his grin.

[blink182times]

ARGUS WONT BE IN PJO S1

[bikkinibottom]

actually to bring up how watered down and sanitized the first 3 episodes of percy jackson has been, it raises concerns for later books. the stakes are supposed to be high from book 1 and the bar continues to be raised. it’s an action packed series with monsters and gods and deadly quests. there’s the possibility of being killed. which raises the question, when titan’s curse rolls around, how will they handle not one but two character deaths? this is the book that’s the turning point in the series, where everyone senses this tonal shift and that they’re favorite characters could actually die. that kronos is serious and this impending war will be real, with real casualties, injuries, and intense battle scenes. how do you sanitize a literal war?

[wercobubblvs]

Nico: We need to distract them

Percy: Leave it to me

Percy: Centaurs have six limbs and are therefore insects. Discuss.

Will, Jason, and Annabeth: *Immediately begin arguing*

Piper, watching while eating popcorn:

[ofswordsandpens]

I'm sincerely very happy for anyone who is enjoying the show but every time I see takes that the show has improved the book characterizations or that the book characters are underdeveloped in comparison to the show...

[somewhereincairparavel]

hc that for Annabeth's proposal, Percy would go full out and literally go scuba diving, hunting fresh pearls for her ring, he'd even ask sea creatures for help bc Annabeth deserves only the best. After he thinks he's got enough shiny pearls (he'd get real lucky bc he'd collect so many of them in different shades aswell) he'd give them all to Leo since he's got the honour of making her ring. Like. He'd go though so dam much just to make sure the ring is perfect :(

[hamletshoeratio]

"I want x spinoff, I want a book about y"

I want to meet the woman who had not one but TWO kids with Hermes. Two kids so close in age and are so alike people just assume that they're twins, two kids who are chaos personified, who singlehandedly run the camp shop, who are in charge of the biggest cabin at camp and look after their equally chaotic gremlin siblings plus every unclaimed kid at camp like Lou Ellen a daughter of Hecate and another being of chaos who learnt it all from them, and who take every opportunity to fuck shit up, to prank their camp mates or to steal shit. Their last name, which they get from their mama? Stoll by the way. Neither child notices the pun.

I want to meet Mama Stoll, who saw the chaos, who saw the bullshit Hermes brought into her life the first go around and said tonight's the night let's do it again. She is either the world's greatest cat burglar who enticed the god of Thieves or the messenger god was enchanted by the best god dam delivery woman on the planet. There's no in-between. It was just a bonus that her surname was the perfect pun. Her and Hermes laugh about it. In my head, it's all canon. Regardless, she unleashed two agents of unlimited chaos onto an unsuspecting world, and I love her for it. I take my hat off to her, I kneel before her.

Oh, and the oldest kid, Travis? He's dating a girl called Katie, who is the daughter of Demeter. Her last name? Gardner. Fucking Gardner. She has a sister called Miranda Gardiner, by the way. Mama Stoll finds it hilarious. Her sons still don't get the pun, but at least she gets on with her future daughter in law like a house on fire.

[terrible-leviathan]

Ep3 in a nutshell

[bryverros]

"if we call camp, we're basically saying it was a mistake to choose us" "i'm completely comfortable with that :D"

[aryxchse]

beach talks / percy jackson x mortal! fem! reader.

a / n : and here i thought i wouldn't write anything mortal x demigod trope,,,, but yeah my brain is screaming ideas to me from all of the bf asmr's and percy jackson's hot self i keep up with. and please let demigod's have magical phones!!

warnings : crying, cuteness overload, suprisingly i didn't cursed?? childhood friends to strangers (?) to lovers, first love, enchanted to meet you fr

oh how you missed perseus jackson.

yancy academy was something traumatising for the both of you, but percy made it easier to survive. he was fun, sarcastic, cute, and had the most gorgeous sea green eyes.

you two loved sneaking out from the school, just to visit beach. you both loved the sea, but you knew he loved it more than you. whenever he was near the ocean, he would always be more calmer.

his eyes would change the color according to the sea, or you we're just so in love with his eyes that you romanticised it in every way.

so when he called you last night, to ask you if you would meet up at the beach you always visited back then, you couldn't say no. instead, you laughed and said 'you always loved to be near the ocean anyways.'

you were so mad at him, so mad. you said you wouldn't leave him when he got expelled, but instead, he left you. he dissapeared without saying anything. and years later, the last week of the summer before collage starts, he reached to you.

and you're so, so mad at yourself for agreeing to meet up with him.

but then again, the way you missed and loved him was more powerful than your anger.

the beach was the same as the last day you arrived here. two years after percy got expelled and didn't even answered any of your calls that time, dissapearing. you were 14, now returning as 18.

you saw a familiar boy sitting on the sand, hugging his knees and watching the ocean with a calm look on his face. he had the same messy raven hair and sharp features with the boy you were in love with when you were 12.

"percy?" you called softly, approaching the boy. he immediatly turned to you, bright sea green eyes piercing your soul.

oh, those sea green eyes.

"oh gods, y/n," he said, stooding up. you tried to pay no mind to him saying 'gods' instead of 'god.' since he hugged you like he was going to break your ribs. "i missed you so much."

the tears were already showing themselfs in your eyes. man, you really loved this boy. as you hugged him back, the change in his appearence made you sad. because you weren't there to see it, to tease him for how quick he got taller or how ripped he was now.

he was more tan, he had many, many scars on his body. he smelled like salt water and wow, he was so much taller than you now. not to mention of how bigger his body get. was he in the military or something when he was gone?

"thank you for coming," he said, pulling away to look at you. his smile was bright like you remembered, so strong that always making people mirror his expression. "i really appreciate it."

"well, i deserve an apology right?" you said, sitting next to his previous place on the sand. he sat next to you, expression.. guilty.

"you deserve much more than that," he said quietly, meeting your eyes. you avoided them, 'cause if you didn't, you would scream: it's okay! i forgive you handsome!

"what are you waiting for then?" you asked, watching the ocean. "make up for it jackson."

and with that, he began to tell you everything. he knew he didn't have to hide anything from you, and how you we're a little mythology obsessed. it did suprised you, but you didn't showed it.

"and i knew i had to reach you after the last war because," he said, meeting your eyes again. this time, you looked back at him. "there's not gonna be any prophecy soon."

a sigh escaped your lips, as a way of process everything. "first of all, i'm mad." you said, and percy groaned in sadness. "because i would've helped you through everything, i would try my best."

"i know," percy whispered. "but i didn't want to put you in danger, you're important to me."

good one, you thought. he sure learned how to make a girl melt.

"second of all," you ignored his comment. "i guess i can forgive you since, you saved the world and all." he chuckled at your joke, finally relaxing his shoulders.

"you- you're not freaked out?" he finally asked. and you shook your head.

"you knew i always had a thing for supernatural stuff," you said with a shrug, smiling at him. he smiled back, squinting his eyes because of the sun. "yeah, i know." he nodded.

"so uh," you avoided his gaze again. "got any girlfriends? you've been gone for too long, we need to make up for it."

you were actually scared to ask this question, because you couldn't had a boyfriend after him. you didn't know why, but you were so loyal to him that you didn't even loved someone after him.

"no." he said. "i never loved anyone like i loved you."

oh gods, you thought. did he read my mind? how can we be this same?

"you-" you stuttered. "you- what?" he chuckled, pinching your cheek.

"guess i skipped the part were my fatal flaw is loyalty," he explained. "i had the biggest crush on you when we were 12, and i couldn't forget about you ever since. i knew i had to be with you, so i won the wars and didn't die, just to return to you."

the pinching turned into caress, and the next thing you knew was you were in his arms. "perseus jackson," you whispered, tears rolling down. you hated when you were filled up with this much emotion. "you're really the worst first love."

he only smiled, like he knew the feelings were mutual. and deep down, he did. all those years, he knew he was going to reach you and make you his one day. just when all of the stuff was over, like now.

"i know pretty," he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. he kept caressing your cheek gently, and your noses brushed every once in a while. "but i'm gonna make up for it, i swear it on the river styx."

[pjocharacterdesign]

Figured i should start posting some of my deadangelos ref designs, so here's Camp Dads Trio

[mediumgayitalian]

Will wakes up to Pierce the Veil, this morning.

He buries his head in his pillow and screams as loud as he can.

Of course, it does nothing. The music is playing inside his head, because his father is the most annoying being ever to pop into existence. Apollo’s children get whatever song suits their father’s current mood — not a good sign that it’s emo today, fuck — blasted directly into their cranium as the sun crests over the horizon, every single day, just so they know how much their dear papa is thinking of them.

Will, however, is head counsellor. And as head counsellor, he gets his daily brain torture exactly one half hour before the sun rises, because fuck him, apparently.

Has he not been through enough.

He screams again, quieter this time, conscientious of his still-sleeping siblings. The song does not go away. It will not go away until he is on his feet, any chance of unconsciousness having swiftly betrayed him.

The creaky floorboards groan in protest as he slams onto them, not bothering to remove himself from his blankets before rolling onto the floor. He considers remaining there, in the fetal position, strangling himself in his tangled sheets, for twelve point three seconds. Then he remembers he has a stupid shift in the stupid infirmary that he stupid runs, and forces himself to get up.

“Being alive is a prison,” he laments hoarsely. It has, tragically, considerably less effect when there is no one awake to hear his complaints, because it is four forty-two in the godsdamn mcshitting fucking morning.

His father is not getting so much as a grape as an offering today. He’s going to scrape an entire plate for Auntie Artemis.

He takes an extra-long time brushing his teeth, spitefully determined to be two minutes late for his shift. No one will notice, because no one is awake. The thought soothes him.

Nine minutes to his shift, he forces himself out of the bathroom and pads over to his dresser. He has no surgeries planned, today, so he’s not gonna bother with the scrubs, and he’s gotta do inventory, so he needs pockets. He picks out his head medic shirt and his lucky cargo shorts and starts to dress himself, squeezing his eyes shut to try and force his muscles into keeping him awake. He can do this. It’s fine. He’s got training with Nico today, so that’s something he can look forward to. If he can distract Kayla and her teasing mouth with training Gracie, he can ogle all he pleases as the son of Hades attempts, for the ninetieth time, to teach him how to use a sword without beheading himself. It’ll be great.

He barely manages to swallow back a shriek when he misses the leg hole for his shorts and goes sprawling.

Fuck mornings. This is an omen. He should go the fuck back to sleep.

As if hearing his thoughts, the stupid song in his head blasts louder. It’s hard to make out the words with all the screaming and drums and all, but he’s almost certain he hears the lyrics, don’t you dare!

“Al-right,” he snaps, scowling. “I’m going, I’m going. Lemme get my damn shirt on, yeesh.”

It takes him a second to find the head hole in the dark — because the godsdamn sun is not up yet — but after a minute of fumbling he manages.

He realizes, the second he tugs it over his chest, that something is wrong.

“What the —”

Now, Will orders his shirts in bulk. He has to. He’s the only one wearing them, after all, and the sheer amount of times per day that he is covered in bodily fluids is a number he chooses, for sake of his sanity, not to count. He is well used to the process of ordering his shirts along with other linen and infirmary supplies. Every fortnight, without fail, he orders a set of orange Head Medic t-shirts one size too big, because it gives him a little breathing room without being too baggy.

When he pulls on this shirt, however, it practically clings to his skin. He can practically feel the fabric groaning as it stretches over his broad shoulders.

And, worst of all — the hem barely brushes the edge of his ribcage.

“Austin,” he growls, practically lunging for his drawer to inspect the rest of them.

As he suspected, each one of them has shrunk. If it weren’t for the Head Medic decal printed across them in bold, Will would assume his laundry was mixed up with Yan’s.

“Why do I still try to assign him laundry duty,” he hisses, cursing himself for his oversight. He’s been busy lately — he didn’t do a very thorough job writing this week’s chore chart. He must’ve put Austin on laundry, and Austin is never allowed to do laundry, because for whatever reason, no matter what he does, he ruins someone’s clothes.

“Fuck!”

His watch beeps at him, LED display reading five o’clock. His shift has already started. All of his shirts are shrunk, and he’s out of time.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He shoves his feet into a pair of flipflops, sprinting for the infirmary. Hopefully, today is on the warmer side, or else he’s going to freeze, on top of looking ridiculous. Fuck.

———

Thankfully, the first couple hours of his shift are blissfully empty and quiet. With no one to distract him, he manages to finish the laundry list of chores he’s been putting off the last week — nectar and ambrosia restock, cabinet reordering, file sorting, et cetera. He has the place spick and span in under ninety minutes.

Unthankfully, he starts to get bored fast.

Feeling an awful lot like his father, which is unfortunate, he begins to slip into what his siblings call “the dramatics” (and what Will calls rational emotional responses, but, take some, lose some). Without his permission, he begins to glance at the door every few minutes, disappointed every time no one is there. He spins around his desk chair, kicking half-heartedly at the desk. He sighs, once or twice, with a tone that he would call tastefully bored and Lou Ellen might label as histrionic. After a half hour, there is on his face, Will cannot deny, a pretty big pout.

In his defense, he can hear the sounds of the rest of the camp waking up through the open windows: laughter, cursing, yawning, Drew chasing her siblings around the camp with her knife, shrieking, promises to return stolen hair straighteners, begging for mercy. Morning sounds. Familiar sounds.

“Ugh,” he mumbles, sinking back into his chair. Then, for good measure, he frowns harder and repeats with more feeling: “Ugh.”

As if summoned by his yearning, disparaging loneliness, the little bell by the door rings as someone stumbles in. Will brightens, jumping to his feet.

“Hi!

“Hey, Will, could I get some ambrosia, Sebastian stole Drew’s straightener and she — woah.” Mitchell freezes. “Um. Woah. Huh?”

Will rushes over to the supply cabinet. “Yeah, of course! I heard the screeching, did she stab him fully or just slash him? Should I come over? Should he come here?”

“Hnngh,” Mitchell says.

Will frowns, hands stilling on the ambrosia. “Mitchell? Are you okay?” He tilts his head. “You’re — really red, dude, maybe you should —”

“I! Hngh! Am fine!” Mitchell shouts, scrambling back from Will’s outstretched hand. He won’t meet Will’s eyes. “Actually, Will, you know what? Sebastian needs to learn, actually, and he’s barely even bleeding, so I’m gonna —” He stumbles backwards, knocking his head into the doorframe. “I’m just going to! You keep that, Will, I’ll chest you — see! I will see you later! Goodbye!”

He turns away and flees, leaving Will alone, again, with a container of ambrosia hanging limply in his fingers.

“That was weird,” he mumbles, and turns to put it back away.

———

Mitchell is far from the first Incident — capitalised, because they are indeed Incidents — of the day.

Maybe a half hour after Mitchell leaves, two more Aphrodite campers walk in. Will smiles, turning to greet them, but before he can even say anything, they shriek in unison and sprint off. As silly as he knows it is, a bubble of hurt begins to bloom in his chest — is everyone actually avoiding him today? Or does it just feel like they are?

(The ADHD makes it hard to tell. He gets his feelings hurt really easily, and constantly has to remind himself what is and isn’t rejection. It doesn’t help that he sometimes feels trapped, as one of the only campers with vitakinesis and therefore constantly in the infirmary. It’s hard not to feel a little isolated. But usually, he’s got his friends and his siblings to remind him he’s not alone. Hopefully, today is just a fluke.)

Nobody else comes into the infirmary during breakfast. Will eats the oatmeal one of the nymphs brings him, smiling at her and thanking her profusely — he hadn’t realized how hungry he was. She leaves pretty quickly, too, but a lot of the nymphs are kinda squeamish around the infirmary, so Will doesn’t think too much of it. In fact, he‘s put most of his shitty morning behind him until Kayla walks in for the start of her shift.

“Huh,” she says, after a solid minute of staring.

Will shifts defensively. “What?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing. Just preparing for our day, brother dear, pay no mind.”

“You are so strange,” he mutters, but he’s long since given up on trying to understand her.

For the next hour, things are almost normal. He and Kayla chat as the freshen up the linen on the cots, treating the odd camper who comes in for lava wall burns or sword scrapes. The infirmary is rarely ever empty once the camp activities start, but in terms of numbers, today’s a pretty slow day. Will starts to feel fidgety pretty quickly.

“Oh, ho ho ho.”

Will grins when he hears his friend’s voice, shoving his clipboard aside and standing to greet them. Lou Ellen and Cecil linger by the door, matching grins on their faces. (Which, usually, would be cause for great alarm, but Will is so bored and so happy to see them that he decides, just this one time, that whomever they’ve just robbed will just have to be an unfortunate victim. Hopefully it wasn’t anything too valuable.)

“Hey, guys! Please tell me you can stay for a bit. I’ve still got a few hours left of my shift and I feel like I’m going to lose my mind.”

“Of course we’ll stay, Willy,” Cecil says innocently. “How could we refuse with such a wonderful view?”

Will is too happy to bother correcting him about his name.

There’s not much to do, so the three of them sit by the nurse’s station and chat. If anyone asks, they’re talking strategy for the upcoming capture the flag game, but really, Lou Ellen heard Damien White from Nike and Chiara Benvenuti from Tyche arguing behind the canoe shed again, so they’re talking shit.

“I honestly don’t get what she sees in him,” Lou Ellen whispers, and Will is nodding fervently, “Right? I mean if she’s happy then good for her, obviously, but come on —”

“Hey, Will?”

Will leans around Cecil, looking for who called him. A group of maybe nine campers crowd around the door, all standing behind one of Cecil’s sisters, Julia. Many of them are giggling.

“We, uh, totally need your help.”

“Here we go,” mutters Cecil. Lou Ellen starts snickering.

Will hardly hears them, absentmindedly grabbing his stethoscope and toolkit.

“What happened? Was there a fight, do you need —”

“Rosamie’s leg is, like, super sprained.” Julia gestures to a younger girl behind her. “We got her this far, but she needs you to lift her to a cot so she can rest.”

“Hermes’ fucking wings,” Cecil says under his breath.

“O….kay,” Will says slowly. “Did you…all need to come for that?”

“My heartbeat is all weird,” pipes up a boy from the back. “I need you to look at that.”

“And I need a band-aid!”

“I broke a nail.”

Their voices start clambering over each other, rapidly getting louder. Will holds up a hand, silencing them.

“Okay, okay, I hear you. If you’re fine to walk, head on over to a cot, I’ll be with you in a minute. Julia, can you help Rosamie —”

“Can’t,” blurts Julia quickly. She holds up her arm after a beat if hesitation. “Totally pulled a muscle. You’ll have to carry her.”

Will furrows his brow. It’s Mitchell all over again.

“Okay, I guess.”

Unwilling to have a group of campers loitering by the doorway any longer, Will gets it over with, scooping up Rosamie with a hand under her knees and behind her back and carrying her to the nearest cot. Will knows that everyone experiences pain differently, but she seems awfully giggly for someone whose leg is apparently sprained.

A cacophony of giggles erupt as he sets her down.

“Gods, Will, do you work out?”

Will flushes. “I do the same training as everyone else, I guess.”

“Cool.”

Will looks at them strangely. How is that cool? He glanced back at his friends, eyebrows raised, but they’re hunched over the station, badly biting back laughter.

“Maybe everyone’s got the flu, or something?” he mutters to himself, even though he knows that’s not true.

He makes quick work of healing the group of campers. Most of them are fine — he couldn’t even find a sprain on Rosamie, but wrapped her knee anyway in case there was more pain. They left as quickly as they came, giggling to each other and running down the porch.

Without even a minute between, another group of campers barged in, just as giggly as the first.

The rest of his shift is chaotic. People practically pour into the infirmary, all with minor, barely there injuries — and all of them demand Will’s help.

Will is no stranger to busy days, but this is nothing he’s ever seen.

“I don’t get it,” Will remarks to his sister in a rare minute of calm, totally bewildered. “It’s like everyone’s suddenly got glass bones.”

Kayla blinks at him. He stares back at her, wide-eyed.

“Yeah,” she drawls, after a minute. She looks him up and down. “What a deeply confounding mystery this is.”

Twelve campers rush in before he can ask her what she’s talking about.

By the time Will manages to escape, it’s an hour past the end of his shift, and he’s crawling out the window in the back office of the Big House to avoid the crowd of people at the front door.

“Solace? What are you doing?”

Will yelps, losing his delicate balance and falling face first into the flowerbed. Low, raspy laughter curls around the air, and Will goes bright red.

“Just let me pass away,” he mutters, curling around a crushed daisy.

Nico snorts. “You are such a drama queen. Here.”

After another quick second of wallowing, Will takes his offered hand, letting him pull him to his feet. His shorts are smeared in dirt and there are flowers in his hair. Frantically, and uselessly, he tries to brush himself off.

“…Damn,” says Nico slowly. When Will chances a peek, he finds his friend looking him over, slowly dragging his eyes from head to toe. If at all possible, he goes even redder. “So it is true. You are walking around half-naked today.” Nico grins, wide and wolfish and teasing, and Will genuinely has to grab the wall behind him to keep upright. “No wonder the rest of camp has been so empty.”

“Is that what it is?” Will cries. “The infirmary has been — packed! All day! And no one has been hurt! They’ve been — they came for —”

“I think they came to watch the show, Solace.”

Will lets out an agonised wail. Alongside the flush so bright it puts his father’s cows to shame, he feels himself start to glow, like an flaming beacon of idiot.

“They’ve been demanding I carry them around places!” He looks at Nico, aghast. “I’ve been doing it!”

For a moment, Nico tries bravely and valiantly to keep a straight face. But then Will remembers the camper who told him he lost feeling in his hands and asked Will to hold his biceps to try and get them back, and his face must absolutely crumple in mortification, because Nico loses it.

“Zeus, Hera, and Hades,” he gasps, doubled over. “Oh my gods, Will, your face, you —” He cracks up again. Genuine tears pour down his face. Sometimes he manages to calm himself down, but then all he has to do is look at Will’s horrified grimace and he breaks down again, until he is literally writhing on the ground, holding his stomach.

“Oh — oh gods, I’m gonna — I think I’m gonna throw up —”

“I hope you choke on it,” Will says hotly. “I won’t help you. I will let you die. You’re a horrible friend.”

Nico shrieks again. Will has never seen him laugh this hard, ever, which is wildly unfair because he’s been practicing jokes with Piper in an attempt to see him smile more often, and this is what finally gets him?

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t, Solace,” Nico sighs, finally starting to calm down for real. The smile on his face doesn’t go anywhere. “Help me up.”

Will pouts. “Whatever.” He should leave Nico there to rot, but he reluctantly clasps their palms together and yanks him upright. He goes to pull away, but Nico squeezes his wrist, holding fast.

Will stares at him with wide eyes. Slowly, his wide smile thins into a crooked, downright dangerous smirk.

Will goes weak at the knees.

“I know you’re going to go get a bunch of new shirts immediately,” he murmurs, and honestly, who gave him the right to a voice like that? Huh? Who did Will piss off? What does he need to do to make amends? “But, well.” He glances down, then back up, smirk widening. “If you wanted to wear that shirt when you’re ogling at me during training, I wouldn’t mind. Might even the playing field.”

And then, because the gods actually hate him, Nico winks. He lets go of Will’s wrist and saunters off without another word, idly swinging his sword as he whistles.

Will crawls back into the flower bed, face plants in the dirt, and yells for ten whole minutes.

[all-too-unwell-13]

I've seen a few ppl talk about this but I'd also like to!!! so!!!!

Jason and Annabeth would've made better "rivals" out of the seven than Percy and Jason.

if it is absolutely necessary to have a set of rivals in the seven, which it really isn't, it would've made more sense for Jason and Annabeth.

okay, I know Jason and Percy are children of the big three, Zeus and Poseidon, who don't really get along, but why does that mean Percy and Jason can't? if they'd had more time and weren't basically brainwashed into disliking each other, I think they'd have become really close friends.

Percy's humour evens out Jason's lack thereof (though he definitely does have a sense of humour in there somewhere, he was just never given the chance to find it), and as we saw a few times, they were really powerful when they fought together. Jason is logical and cautious, Percy is impulsive and quick. they even each other out. if anything, they should've been closer friends than any of the seven.

ok, back to the rivalry. so, it's said multiple times during MoA that Annabeth never really trusted Jason. she thought (correct me if I'm wrong, it's been a while since I read the books) Jason was too controlled and quiet.

also, Jason and Annabeth probably have more in common than any other duo from the seven, and that's not even their physical descriptions.

they're both smart and logical, preferring to think things through properly before making decisions, and they both use this during battle, for example.

Annabeth never really trusting Jason could've also added to their rivalry; it would've made her more apprehensive of everything he said, right? so, just imagine the seven getting into a rough situation and needing somebody with brains to figure it out. of course, we have Annabeth, daughter of Athena, who's known for being smart; but you also have Jason, son of Jupiter, who is cautious, careful, and logical. imagine they come to different conclusions, and argue about which is right.

their rivalry would've been so cool! two super smart people getting different answers for the same situation, both seemingly right, but who's do the seven follow through with? the natural choice would be Annabeth, who is, again, a daughter of Athena, who is the goddess of wisdom. it could've added to the story; having Leo and Piper side with Jason's answer, for example, and having Frank, Hazel, and Percy side with Annabeth.

but with Percy and Jason's so-called "rivalry," that really made no sense because they hardly knew each other, it's just two awkward and powerful 16 year olds, whose dislike for each other stems from their godly parents not getting along. it makes no sense. especially because Percy isn't the type of person to judge people based on their godly parents, so why would he have a pointless rivalry with someone just because his dad and their dad aren't exactly best friends? it doesn't seem like a very Percy Jackson thing to do, in my opinion.

so yeah. I think it would've made more sense to put a rivalry between two characters who have more in common, over two people who literally met yesterday and don't know anything about each other (except, of course, Jason hearing about the 'all-powerful Percy Jackson' stuff from CHB). I really do think that a rivalry in general wasn't necessary, and it didn't really add anything solid to the plot or storyline.

[itspipesmclean]

poseidon, about percy: sometimes boys... need to be boys. you know

zeus: you do realize he did thousands of bits worth of property damage though?