#pjoau

[appleswithinthestars]

look at my demigods dawg . We’re cooked

text (for those who can’t read it lols) —

“First quest, going through the horrors” (pointing towards Tommy)

“Tommy! The humans are calling us ‘War Criminals’ doesn’t that sound cool?’”

without text :

[hellredsky]

PJO x Gundam 03

The Di Angelos arrived to the Half-Blood crew and everything is different. Bianca chose to join the Huntress crew, to pilot Core Fighters. Nico blended well with the rest of the crew at the Half-Blood and being part of the hermes team for a while. Everyone was nice to him, know he was avoiding the feelings of anger about Bianca.

[cardcaptorkatara]

I was listening to 'The Last Day of Summer' from the PJO musical and I thought this would be cool. I got lazy and didn't do the rest of Luke's part, but go listen to it. It's awesome.

I’ve been here since I was a kid I did everything they ever asked Yeah I did And for what!? You know this world will never be ours As long as our parents rule over the stars So I’ll do anything, I don’t care if I hurt anyone It doesn’t pay to be a good kid, a good kid, a good son

[pjoveteran]

Ok but who's to say annabeth wouldn't run a studygram account with resources for dyslexic people, 80% of the pages highlighted in the most niche colours of highlighters, and too much ink on her desk that she can't rub out

[peckforlovingheck]

Forgot I made an angst thing but this is somehow funny without context

[cescalr]

A Likeness To Ancient Art (In Human Form).

Ao3 Link.

Summary:

He looks like Luke.

Notes:

hints of percy/luke, percy/rachel, past percy/annabeth. Could be read as gen or pre-slash percy/apollo, I suppose. I don't know what this is. But have it, anyway.

He looks like Luke. He'll always look like Luke, with his hair colour and style, warm skin tone and eyes as blue and as sharp as a winter sky. But his smile, the look in his eyes, his love for art - that's all Rachel, to her core. All these years down the line, Percy still remembers them. As they were, as they ended up being.

Aside from Luke, who doesn't count, Annabeth died first.

He should have expected it, he supposes, now, and has done for a good few decades at this point. After all, she's smart, and skilled, but out of all the Godly parents, Athena gives her children the least things to help them out, power-wise. Eventually, they'll find something, be in a situation where they're just as stuck as a mortal would be. Being shot in the head isn't something you can think your way out of. And mortals are immune to celestial bronze, but demigods aren't immune to .50 cal ammunition.

Worst of both worlds, really.

And sometimes - sometimes, out of the corner of his eye, in his peripheral vison, he'll see Californian blonde and sun-tanned skin, and he'll think Annabeth, then he'll think Luke, and then he'll turn, and it's neither. That smile's all Rachel, that stance vaguely Jason, and that person's all God. Apollo.

Apollo's the only god who remembers, and cares, about what it's like to be mortal. Percy's the only ex-mortal in these parts that hates the ex- part.

He misses Meg, Percy thinks. They don't really talk about any of it. Why would they? Talking about it would inevitably bring things up that'd make them angry, and - look. The last time they had a row there was a drought and an earthquake and a terrible heatwave in Santa Monica. It's not worth the hassle. Or the lecture.

If they don't do anything stupid, the other Gods leave them alone. Well - to be fair - they leave Apollo alone. Percy's the sort of important that you can't leave out of anything. You know. Just in case he ever attempts to buy bigger boots. By killing you. 'You' being a God, and that god being Zeus, because - even Thalia's dead now. Even Thalia.

When he visits the Romans, sometimes, they just think straight-up that he's Neptune. Poseidon never attempts to rectify this assumption, because - well, migraines, split-personalities. It's hard to correct, but Percy does, each time. It apparently gets less convincing as time goes by. Percy minds this very much, but there's nothing he can do about it.

Curses are curses. Eventually, Percy will probably end up a god through belief alone. He's not looking forward to it.

Apollo's reasons for all this are just as obtuse and well-hidden as Percy's own. To admit some truth, Percy's have a hint of nostalgia to them. He supposes there could be that for the God, but it's not like Percy can tell him many stories. Oh, yeah, lets reminisce about the time your son died because of me. Like that'd go down well.

But still, he's here. In this centuries-spanning nightmare, he's here.

And sometimes, in Percy's peripheral vision, he looks like her. Like Rachel, because in a sense - well. She was his Oracle of Delphi. They were linked, on some high level. But he blinks, and it's (Luke) Apollo again. Just like always.

Percy has met Luke. Isle of the Blessed; it was bound to happen eventually. He's met Rachel again too. Clarisse, Silena, Beckendorf, Chris Rodriguez, Leo, Piper. Nico, Bianca, Hazel, Frank. Everyone. He's met them. Whether in Elysium or on Earth, he's met them, as their dead selves or their new ones.

Apollo's kids never like him, but there's a different reason for that now, than when Percy was sixteen.

"Gotta do the rounds," Apollo says. He tosses his keys up in his hand, then catches them. "Wanna drive?"

"Sure," Percy says. Percy can't figure the guy out. And the more time he spends with him, the less it makes sense. The fewer questions he wants to ask, because he doesn't want to know their answers, anymore.

Eventually, immortality's just tiring.

They leave Percy's apartment, and get in the sun-chariot-car. It's some two-seater hot-rod red sports car from this century, which means Percy looks at it and feels deeply out of place, but the interior could have been from 1999, so he can drive it.

And he does. Up into the sky, with Apollo leaning back in his seat, arms crossed behind his head. Zeus won't strike Percy down right now, because he's not a demigod in the wrong place anymore, just a not-mortal with no place at all. In the end, Percy thinks, wryly, they got what they wanted. Just without having to give Percy any real power at all. Or fulfil any of their promises.

He should have made that styx vow airtight.

But there's no point getting angry anymore. There's nobody who'll listen, and fewer who'll care.

"Why do you bother?" Percy asks.

"Don't you want me to?" Apollo asks. It goes like this. A question for a question for a question. Percy looks a little like Thalia, and he knows Apollo thought she was pretty.

"Why would you want to?" Percy asks.

"Not much else to do," Apollo says. His smile is gone, and that expression on his face, one Percy can't quite read, makes him think of someone he can't quite remember. It's been centuries, give him a break. Mortal brains aren't made for memories that distant. That far away.

They have this conversation, every now and again. Answers and questions learnt by rote, some kind of twisted performance.

"You're a God," Percy says. "You've had millenia to figure out how to pass the time," He stares straight ahead, taps his fingers on the steering wheel. "God of medicine, music. Surely there's something for you to do."

"Well, they've figured out a lot down there," Apollo gestures, shrugging, then crosses his arms behind his head again, looks up into the atmosphere. "Regrow limbs. Cured cancer. Yadda yadda. Humans have made music before I came along, and they'll make it after."

"I always wondered," Percy says. "Sun doesn't move. Earth does. How does this work?" He gestures down, at the vehicle they're riding in.

"Tradition," Apollo says. "I don't know. Moon does move, Artemis' job has a point to it. Me? I just give credence to geocentrism."

Percy shakes his head, and leaves it at that.

[osillygoose]

WHAT IF PERCY HAD BLUE HAIR????
If you go to my Etsy shop (osillygoose) you can buy some cute pjo stickers! (If you buy in the next few days start now 2020-05-19 I will give you a free print)

[chuyupennington]

Dream a Little Dream of Me

An EraserMic fic, which takes place in a PJO Au. Centaur Aizawa, they’re on a first-name basis. Angst, Angst, Angst. ------------- Shouta didn’t need sleep. A perk of immortality he supposed. But gods did he love it. The blissful nothingness of slumber. An escape from the visions of Oboro’s limp form. The way time had seemed to slow as Oboro had turned to him, the way he’d vanished into the debris in seconds, the way that he’d been the only casualty.

Oboro had died saving people he hadn't known. It had hit Shouta hard. The realization of his friend's mortality. The pain of losing people he cared about, and the knowledge he’d never see them again, not unless they reincarnated. But then they’d be someone else, and he wouldn’t really get them back.

They’d never found the body.

He didn’t want to lose anyone else, COULDN’T lose anyone else.

And then the dreams about Hizashi started. Dreams about Hizashi drowning, being stabbed, aging into dust.

What had once been his refuge, was now his hell. But he couldn’t stop sleeping. The dreams were awful, but they were only dreams. They weren't real, and he always knew that. 

No matter the dream, Hizashi was there to shake him awake.

And then, the dreams stopped. And the blissful nothingness returned, or so he thought.

The new dreams, or dream rather, was Hizashi leaving. Leaving and never looking back.

And that hurt so much more than Hizashi dying. The idea of his best friend choosing to leave him,  was almost too much to bear.

The most recent dream, the worst one, was Hizashi dying. Alone, and far away. His golden eyes rotting out of his skull as Shouta helplessly watched. He couldn’t wake up, WHY COULDN’T HE WAKE UP?

A terrible, terrible thought entered his mind. What if this was real? What if he’d spent so much time asleep, dreaming of loss, that his nightmares had become reality?

The feeling of wet tears sliding down his cheeks finally woke him. 

He gasped softly, finally free from the terrible visions, only to realize he was alone. Where was Hizashi? His friend, who’d slept curled into his side for weeks, was nowhere to be found.

Shouta began to panic. What if something had happened? What if Hizashi was hurt? Fear curled through his stomach.

He began to frantically trot through the camp, searching for his friend.

Nothing. He could find nothing. Not a single trace of his friend.

There was one place left to look. Half Blood Hill. But the only Reason Hizashi would go there would be to leave camp. So it was highly unlikely.

And yet-

He freezes, looking up. Hizashi’s silhouette is on the hill, growing fainter. 

No. NO. He’s leaving? Why? “HIZASHI.” He screamed, and his friend flinched. But he didnt turn around.

Shouta wanted to run after his friend, beg the other boy to stay.

But he couldn’t. Hizashi had already crossed off of the camp’s border, and Shouta was forbidden to leave.

The tears came back. 

He really was alone now.