#pjo reblog

[sunflowergraves]

[severeheroineaddiction]

Started watching PJatO. Things were going great until I found out Walker and Leah (Percy and Annabeth) were born in 2009?? Which is impossible??? Nobody was born in 2009. We were all there. Everyone remembers the year A Very Potter Musical came out

[orions-hole]

REBLOG THIS IF YOU WANT PJO S2 TO HAVE 20 EPISODES

edit: Guys. Reblog it. This is not yt, likes alone do not put this post on more dashboards(I think) reblogs do.

[herlondonboy]

so it goes, clarisse la rue

summary: based off of this ask!

warnings: angst to fluff, bullies yk.

wc: 1.4k

from the moment you and clarisse started your relationship, it was evident that your affectionate nature and innate clinginess were characteristics woven into the fabric of your connection. clarisse, with her understanding and patient demeanour, assured you early on that your constant need for closeness wasn't just tolerated but genuinely embraced.

in those initial stages, clarisse would gently remind you that she enjoyed the warmth of your touch, the way you sought comfort in the proximity of one another. it was as if the world outside faded into insignificance whenever you two were entwined, and the simple act of being close provided a sanctuary for your heart.

days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, yet your affectionate tendencies persisted and even flourished. whether it was a subtle hand on her arm, fingers interlaced, or a comforting arm around your shoulders, the physical connection became an unspoken language of love between you two. it wasn't just about the warmth of the embrace; it was about the security and reassurance it offered.

clarisse, appreciating the way you expressed love, reciprocated with a warmth that matched yours. it became a dance of affection, an unspoken agreement that permeated every moment spent together. even in the most mundane activities like watching a movie or sharing a meal, there was an unbreakable link, a tangible reminder that you were both present and connected.

the outside world might label it as clinginess, but for the two of you, it was an unspoken promise of solidarity. for you, it assured you that clarisse wasn’t going anywhere. for clarisse, it reassured her that you were real. clarisse found solace in your touch, and you, in turn, found security in her acceptance. it wasn't just about physical proximity; it was a testament to the emotional bond that continued to strengthen.

as time passed, your relationship evolved, but the affectionate nature remained a constant. each touch, each shared moment, became a testament to the enduring strength of your connection. in the arms of clarisse la rue, you found not just a lover but a haven, a place where the simple act of touch spoke volumes, whispering promises of love and everlasting togetherness.

heart heavy, you raised your hand to knock on the cabin door, only to freeze upon hearing clarisse's siblings teasing her from within.

"how do you put up with them?" one of her brothers chuckled. "you can't seriously like having them all over you all the time."

clarisse joined in the laughter, "i know, right? they're super annoying. i just need a moment to myself every now and again."

as their words hung in the air, a lump formed in your throat. doubt crept in, overshadowing the reassurances clarisse had once offered. the sanctuary you believed you had found in her arms began to crumble.

torn between confronting the situation and retreating, you took a step back from the door. the vulnerability of the moment choked you, tears welling up in your eyes as you questioned the authenticity of your connection with clarisse.

with a heavy heart, you turned away, the creaking of the floor beneath your weight muffled by the echoes of laughter from inside. the cabin, once a refuge, now felt like a distant memory as doubt clouded your perception.

as you walked away, the words of clarisse's siblings lingered, echoing in your mind. the path before you seemed uncertain, the foundation of your relationship shaken by the unfiltered opinions of those close to clarisse. a battle raged within you– the desire for connection conflicting with the fear of being a burden.

in the solitude of the outdoors, you grappled with your emotions. the vulnerability of that moment lingered, but so did the love that had initially bound you and clarisse together. it was a pivotal juncture, a moment of truth that demanded introspection.

as the evening unfolded, the air outside in camp thickened with tension. the dinner table became a silent witness to the growing unease. clarisse, noticing your absence, excused herself from the table, her siblings' banter fading as she stepped outside in search of you.

the pebble beach, bathed in the soft glow of twilight, welcomed clarisse's searching gaze. her heart quickened as she spotted you lying down, your hand trailing through the gentle caress of the water. relief and worry danced in her eyes as she approached, her footsteps slowing to avoid disturbing the fragile atmosphere.

tapping your shoulder gently, clarisse's touch sent a shiver down your spine. for a moment, you almost melted into her warmth, forgetting the turmoil within. as reality struck, you sat up abruptly, distancing yourself from her touch. clarisse, sitting down beside you, furrowed her brows at the puffy redness in your eyes, evidence of the tears you had shed in solitude.

concern etched across her face, clarisse asked, "what's wrong?" her voice was a gentle melody, but the weight of the earlier conversation lingered in the air.

"if you don't like my touching you, why did you say you did?" the words spilled out, carrying the vulnerability that had plagued you since overhearing the candid remarks from her siblings.

clarisse's confusion morphed into realisation, her eyes widening as she connected the dots. the revelation hit her like a wave, and she scrambled to find the right words. "y/n, i didn't mean any of that. i was just playing along with my siblings' teasing. i love your affection; it's one of the things i cherish most about us. i never wanted you to doubt that."

the sincerity in her voice began to melt the walls you had erected. as she rushed out an apology, you felt the tension easing, replaced by the warmth of understanding. the vulnerability shared in that moment became the bridge to healing.

the vulnerability lingered in the air as you asked clarisse how you were supposed to believe her. doubt still clung to your heart, a lingering echo of the overheard conversation. clarisse, sensing the weight of your uncertainty, took a deep breath before gently taking your hands in hers.

with a sincerity that transcended words, she locked eyes with you, the depths of her gaze conveying a truth that needed no verbal affirmation. "y/n," she began, her voice a gentle reassurance, "i understand why you might doubt, but you mean everything to me. my love for you is real, and your touch is something i cherish, not something to be teased about."

in that shared moment, her touch became an anchor, grounding you in the reassurance you sought. the world around you seemed to fade as clarisse spoke through the language of touch.

wrapping her arms around you, she pulled you close, creating a cocoon of warmth that melted away the remnants of doubt. "i never want you to question how much you mean to me," she whispered, her breath brushing against your ear. the tenderness of her embrace spoke louder than any apology or explanation could. it was a silent pledge, an unspoken promise that resonated through the shared heartbeat between you two.

as clarisse pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, the gentle gesture spoke volumes. "i love you," she murmured, the words a balm to the ache of uncertainty. it was a gesture of love, an act that transcended the need for words. in that moment, you could feel her heartbeat sync with yours, a rhythmic affirmation of the bond you shared.

the beach became a sanctuary, the lapping waves providing a soothing backdrop to the intimate dance of emotions. clarisse's arms around you became a shield against doubt, a fortress built on the foundation of trust. the silence of the night was broken only by the whispers of the wind and the tender exchange of touches that bridged the gap between fear and assurance.

as clarisse held you close, you felt the walls around your heart crumble. the vulnerability you had carried transformed into a newfound strength, fortified by the genuine love that radiated from her every touch. "i believe you," you finally whispered, your voice a fragile acknowledgment. it was in that embrace that you found the answer to your question, a tangible affirmation that spoke louder than any words ever could.

in the quiet intimacy of the beach, doubts were replaced by a profound understanding. clarisse, through the language of touch, had dismantled the barriers that threatened your connection. as you rested in her arms, the moonlit night bore witness to the resilience of love, the power of vulnerability, and the unwavering strength of a bond that emerged unscathed from the storm of doubt.

[demigods-posts]

headcanon that even though percy and annabeth are borderline celebrities in their universe. and have saved the world countless of times. they still have side quests that no one fucking knows about. any and all side comments about that one weekend annabeth spent in prison or that one time percy faked of his own death in nebraska is enough to give their friends and family whiplash.

[moonlightphos]

III of swords ✦ The Magician

[my-autism-adhd-blog]

Okay,

I’m sick and tired of people bashing this series. No, the movie was NOT better. It got so many things wrong. This series is doing a much better job at adapting the story and they have scenes that actually happened in the book. Don’t even get me started on the sequel The Sea of Monsters. That movie has to be the worst adaptation I’ve ever seen.

People who think that the movie was good clearly don’t know much about this series and what happened in the books.

Yes, Percy Jackson and the Olympians does have some flaws, but everyone I’ve seen (on Reddit mostly) has been hating on it so so much and acting like it’s the absolute worst adaptation ever.

Just enjoy the series. If you don’t like the way the show adapted the story and characters, then just don’t watch.

I seriously don’t get it.

[poisonpercy]

I think trying to justify characterization changes in the pjo show by saying that Percy is an unreliable narrator in the books just doesn’t work. I get why I’ve seen a few people say that. Trust me, I really do. However, Percy is more of an unreliable narrator in terms of himself. When he’s speaking about others, that’s when he’s honest. When Percy is describing himself and his actions, that’s when he becomes an unreliable narrator.

I also feel like justifying ooc-ness of the show characters by saying that Percy is an unreliable narrator does a disservice to the books and the characters. Idk, it just seems like an odd way to combat the criticism people have on how characters are being portrayed in the show.

[lubble-underscore]

“they canonically hate each oth—“ shut up they have a sibling dynamic

[mo-mode]

Chiron: Welcome to Camp Half-Blood! Home to demigods of—

Me: Yeah yeah, which demigods can see the shrimp colors?

Chiron: Excuse me?

Me: You heard me. Who’s got the shrimp colors?

Chiron: Well, ah…Iris is the goddess of the rainbow, and Poseidon is god of the sea, but I don’t think—

Me: Give me the shrimp colors, horse man.

[silima]

happy lin manuel as hermes casting 🤩😫

based on @eerna's post

[pjo-hoo-toa-freakazoid]

Doodles of the Tartar sauce boys who are madly in love with each other 👍🏼✨

[helpallthenamesaretakenblog]

yeah, botl-tlo was messy. yes it was chaotically angsty. but you know what would have made it more messy and chaotic and angsty? if rachel was a guy 👀

(I've ranted about this in my reblog go check it out)

[hyperfixation-fix]

Learning about mythology is so weird. Like

Norse mythology: Endless food! Glorious death! Battles for the rest of eternity!

Greek mythology: Sex! So much sex! Power! Powerful sex!

[herlondonboy]

unclaimed, clarisse la rue

summary: after being unclaimed for seven years, your father claims you when a new kid arrives and is claimed.

warnings: bullying a little, i guess… they’ll be a part 2 if anyone likes this one. there’s not very much clarisse x reader, but there will be in part 2

wc: 1.6k

a/n: guys it’s my bday in three days… i wanna be 16 forever

you were barely ten when you arrived at camp half-blood. you were scared, shaking, and cold as your satyr protector led you away from the body of your mother and to the entrance of the camp.

with no idea of what was happening, you followed him blindly, hoping for an answer, but the second you crossed the threshold, you collapsed.

when you awoke, there was a blonde kid above you with a wide smile. “hi,” he said, “i’m will!”

you sat up in confusion, murmuring, “where am i?”

“camp half-blood,” will responded. “your satyr didn’t tell you?”

you shook your head. “what’s a satyr?”

since then, you and will had been friends. he was your only constant at camp. in the seven years you’d been there, you hadn’t been claimed by a god. it was understandable. you didn’t do anything to make them proud. you weren’t good at archery or sword fighting, you didn’t get along with nature nor were you heroic.

but, in those seven years, you had been claimed by someone else.

clarisse la rue was the daughter of ares. she knew how to get what she wanted and at 15 what she wanted was you. clarisse became a constant in your life. breakfasts would be spent feeling her eyes on you, archery practice she was purposefully tease you as if you weren’t already bad enough with a bow as it was.

then, she asked you out. you had been supporting a crush on her for a year at that point, so it was a no-brainer. you loved your girlfriend more than anything.

will and clarisse were the only people you were devoted to. the only people you really trusted.

as of now, your seventeenth birthday was quickly approaching. clarisse and will wanted to make it special since you hadn’t really celebrated any birthdays since you were ten. three days before your mother died getting you to safety.

it seemed like their efforts were futile because three days before your birthday, a curly-haired blond boy walked through the entrance after supposedly killing a minotaur. all celebrations had been pushed to the back of everyone’s minds. to the back of clarisse’s mind.

you didn’t care though, your birthday wasn’t a fun celebration. it didn’t even hurt that you weren’t anyone’s first priority. in fact, you were happy.

percy came with a reputation already hung over his head. he had killed a minotaur, though clarisse would tell everyone that it was bull crap. he was like ten, there was no way. you didn’t care that much. if they say he killed a monster, then he killed a monster.

as you sat at lunch, three days before your birthday, you were shot looks of pity. whether it was because your girlfriend was ignoring you or because you hadn’t been claimed in nearly seven years, you had no idea.

with a sigh, you got up and retreated back to the hermes cabin. you wished chiron would have let you choose which one you wanted to stay in. it was clear you had overstayed your welcome. they didn’t like you very much.

later that day, after sparring, it was dinner and your girlfriend was nowhere to be found. and of course, neither was percy jackson.

you got up and walked down to the outhouse where two of clarisse’s half-siblings were guarding the outside.

“let me past,” you ordered. they shared a look so you just pushed past, in time to see clarisse be soaked head to toe with what you hoped was tap water.

she glared at the boy before turning and storming out past you, followed by another two of her siblings. you’d comfort her in a minute.

“i’m sorry about her,” you said sincerely. “clarisse doesn’t like liars and she doesn’t believe that you killed the minotaur.”

“i’m not lying!”

“i didn’t say you were,” you furrowed your eyebrows. “but, uh, water powers, eh?”

“what?”

you shook your head. “i’m y/n.”

the boy nodded. “i know who you are.”

that made you frown. “you mean you know i’ve been unclaimed for seven years?”

“i-i,” he stammered, making you scoff.

“no worries. see you around, percy jackson, minotaur killer, orphan.”

“ouch.”

“don’t worry. i got here the same way, only hades didn’t save my mother, i don’t think. i didn’t see, too busy running and not killing,” you said. “welcome to camp half-blood.”

you walked out and to the ares cabin, knocking on the door.

your girlfriend opened with a glare, “what?” she asked.

“hello to you, too. i missed you too,” you mocked. clarisse just raised an eyebrow so you dropped your facade. “what was that back there? he’s a child, clarisse.”

“he’s a liar.”

you rolled your eyes and pushed her into the cabin. clarisse held back a smile as you made it dark and brought her over to her bed before kissing her lips softly. “leave him alone, please. i have a feeling he’s not the type of person that you want to mess with.”

clarisse scoffed at your reasoning and didn’t make any promises, but held you close.

“has anyone ever told you you’re beautiful?” clarisse asked suddenly, making you roll your eyes. “not… not in the way the aphrodite kids are. more like… like deathly beautiful.”

“thanks… i think?”

-

capture the flag was something that camp took very seriously. you were obviously on clarisse’s team, red team. even though you hadn’t won since a child of athena started leading the blue team. part of you hoped that percy would join your team, but knew he wouldn’t.

you forced a smile onto your face when you saw him. will had told you to smile more. that it makes one more approachable. it didn’t feel right to you, though.

you coughed and got in position.

you were by the water when percy came, clarisse hot on his tail. it was a fight you didn’t want to get in the middle of. you flinch when you heard your girlfriend’s spear snap then again when she screamed. you felt bad for the kid, he didn’t know what he had just started.

luke then ran down with the rest of the blue team cheering him on as he dug the red flag into the pebbles. clarisse stormed away once again, leaving you, yet again, with percy jackson.

you saw a colourful outline of a person, before annabeth took off her cap and revealed herself. she congratulated and her cursed her out for not helping him. you watched from afar as annabeth showed him way.

percy was suddenly in the water.

when annabeth pushed percy into the water, everyone watched intently. his cuts healed instantly as he yelled at her. he didn’t even know the gravity of the situation. the crowds went silent as everyone’s gaze moved from percy to above him.

another demigod claimed within days, when you hadn’t been claimed in years.

percy jackson, son of poseidon. a forbidden child. the only one, as thalia had died.

you knew it was only a matter of time before he was sent on a quest. you prayed for him.

that night, you tossed and turned in bed. sleep never came easy, but now it was like something was forcing you to stay awake. you groaned and opened your eyes, confused.

this didn’t look like the hermes cabin.

“hello, child,” you heard a deep voice say, making you turn around.

“who are you?” you asked. you knew who he was, though. he was hades. you were in the underworld, somehow. what you wanted to know, was who he was to you. “is it you?”

“is what me?”

“my father. are you him?” you asked bitterly. seven years. seven years curious and he only now claimed you out of pure jealousy.

“you know the answer.”

you nodded. “why now? why not seven years ago?”

“you know the answer to that, too.”

you were becoming seriously irate. your father was a prick.

“the boy didn’t just take something from my brother. he took something from me, too. i need you to get it back,” you father ordered. “before you say no, i have something you want.”

he nodded to an area behind you and you turned to see a golden statue, like someone had been touched my midas. the statue looked eerily familiar. then it clicked. “my mother?” you whispered.

“get me my helm of darkness.”

you shot awake in a cold sweat, blinking at the light. was it morning already?

“someone get luke,” you heard a hermes kid whisper. “quickly!”

everyone was looking at you. or rather, above you. you looked up at your father’s symbol glowing above your head, a three-headed dog. you felt sick.

not only were you a forbidden child, but you were the forbidden child of hades. when word got around to luke, he had practically dragged you to chiron’s office. it didn’t take long, so your father’s symbol was still over your head before quickly disappearing after chiron saw it.

luke had been asked to leave and you were alone with chiron and mr. d. “i-“

“we have a quest for you,” mr. d cut you off. “with peter johnson.”

“we would like to you to go and retrieve the master bolt from your father,” chiron told you. “you leave with percy and two others of his choosing tomorrow.”

“do i not have a choice?” you asked.

“you’re the only way they’re going to get out of the underworld. they need you.”

you sighed and nodded. “okay.”

this was not you wanted when you said you wanted to be claimed.

suddenly, you had forgotten all about what your father asked of you. your only job now was protecting percy jackson.

[autism-alley]

hi originally posted this at the end of a long thread of back and forth, here’s the og post if you want full context but i feel like this needs to be its own post especially bc i keep seeing this argument being made—the argument that the kids (in this case it was annabeth) SHOULD just know the monsters are monsters and who they are and how to defeat them before ever encountering them, that it’s a problem if they don’t.

the problem is not if 12 year olds should recognize a trap when they see one, even if they’re smart 12 year olds, and if that’s realistic. that is entirely beside the point.

the problem is rick riordan wrote a book series whose formula is bringing myths to the modern age and he’s not sticking true to that in the show—percy jackson and the olympians’ Shtick is taking these classic, ancient threats and giving them a new face. these traps work because these kids are not walking into a cave marked with Get Out and getting ambushed by monsters—the monsters are disguised as harmless mortal human beings, in harmless mortal human being places (for the most part) and i think we—and more importantly, the show—are all forgetting the mist, the magic involved here. it’s not just that medusa is a “creepy lady with her eyes covered” it’s that there is ancient magic at work here, magic that, like the systems of abuse pjo exists to criticize, has been evolving and continuing its malevolence for millennia. it’s formulaic, that’s the point. it’s the same trap you’ve learned about all your childhood, the same trap a thousand children before you learned all their childhoods, and still, it works. you fall into the trap. because that’s how generational abuse works. it’s a trap. it isn’t enough to learn monsters exist, what they look like from a second hand story that originated thousands of years ago. if you want to escape alive, you have to adapt as quickly as they do, recognize their face, and ultimately, beyond any individual trap, the game itself has to change. real, generational change.

so. the problem is rick riordan wrote a series with a formula for action that perfectly captures the overarching, systemic conflicts he was commentating on, and then threw that formula out in the show because it was “unrealistic”. i don’t give a damn about realism when it works to the detriment of the story. this is a story about generational abuse, yes, but it’s told through ‘a tale as old as time’ and that’s why it works so fucking well. and when it comes to basic storytelling, if your characters know the threat before they even walk in and you do practically nothing to then make up for the stakes you have removed, that’s a flaw. now you’ve lost the entertainment value for your audience, on top of also lessening your themes.

something else that is so. honestly soul-crushing as a writer and a creative, is that to me this is reflective of the way we are now afraid to tell earnest stories. stories where we care not for listening to the people who want to pick apart fictional, mythical, fantasy stories for not being “realistic” instead of aligning with our target audience who acknowledges reality is not what makes a story. think of your favorite movie, show, book, comic, what have you—has the reason for your favoritism ever been because it is the most reasonable, the most grounded, the most practical out of any you’ve seen? or is it because of the emotion? the way it speaks to you, to your life and the person you are? the journey it takes you on? is the percy jackson and the olympians book series so good because it’s inherently realistic?

the secret to storytelling is, very simply, focus on your story. everything else is secondary. if it’s written well, it doesn’t matter to me that the characters walk into a trap that, to the audience, is obviously a trap. because i can understand how the characters don’t know it, and how the story falls apart if the narrative just tells the characters it’s a trap from the jump. that’s what dramatic irony is—first used in greek tragedies! this is literally a tale as old as time in every sense except for the end—where it’s happy. and it’s not earned if we don’t first see, over and over, the status quo as a tragic trap.

it’s not about if annabeth (or the other kids) is “smart enough” to not walk into a trap, or about if she’s just too prideful to not walk into what she knows is a trap (or any reason that could apply to the other characters), it’s that annabeth, at the end of the day, is a character. she is a storytelling tool for the messages of the narrative. that doesn’t make her any lesser. in fact ignoring it reduces her, because it reduces what she represents. it’s about how rick riordan, or whoever else at disney, has fumbled the storytelling bag so ridiculously hard that they can’t take the simple, effective formula outlined from start to finish (by good ol 2009 rick himself) and adapt it to the screen without answering the most unimportant, derailing, anti-story questions.