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sayoneee · 3 months

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☆ AND I KNOW IT’S OVER (STILL I CLING)

percy jackson, who never seems to know when to quit, keeps coming back. (2.9k)

contains: percy jackson x daughter of minor god! reader. post tlo (alt universe - everyone lives). book percy descriptions. apollo (derogatory).

kashaf’s note: book percy descriptions bc that was my first love. (sry if i get some of the words wrong, english isnt my first language pls be patient!!)

SUMMER BURNS. at camp half-blood, the scorching heat has dwindled to soft caresses, from the heat of the fire during sing-alongs where your cabin joins hands and toasts marshmallows to the cool breeze balming the sun’s glare at its zenith in the sprawling strawberry fields. at home, the scorching heat leaves marks — the biker with flames for pupils who clutched an openly bleeding wound as he thrust a first-aid kit at you, and the girl not much older than yourself with tears marring her face as she handed you a pregnancy test to ring up, avoiding your curious (sympathetic) gaze.

however, despite it all — you stand infallible, much like your grandfather’s part convenience store and part pharmacy, a poor man’s family heirloom.

you stand idly, flipping through an edition of seventeen when the rusty door swings open to admit a familiar face — with unruly black hair and an equally reckless grin (you know exactly who it is from the ba-dum of your heartbeat), the infamous son of poseidon (with the same smile as shawn hunter from boy meets world) is easily recognizable.

you glance at the crimson blooming around the crevices of his knuckles, tightly gripping a faded and worn-out skateboard, his scruffy converse squeaking across the tiled floor, raising an eyebrow as you coolly say, “band-aids are in the back, on the right.”

jackson laughs, an all-consuming sound (the wind-blown half-blood hill where apollo seemed to smile down at you, the laughter, like the memory, evanescent), “thanks, doc.”

you discreetly watch him perusing the aisles, before stopping in front of the ancient fridge — your grandfather’s store was something of an 80s pompeii with the peeling posters of back to the future and motley crue and the antiquated maroon and cream color scheme — and pulling out an arizona green tea.

when he finally goes to look for band-aids, you attempt to fix your attention back on the magazine in your hands, but like a moth driven to a flame, percy jackson was unbelievably hard to look away from (a magnet among mortals and immortals alike).

jackson’s hands are on his hips, his tupac t-shirt creasing, thick brows furrowed as he decides between different types of candy with the same intensity as a single mother with two children and a nine-to-five (even in the mortal world, there is something else entirely about him, something that made it so that you could never truly write him off).

when he approaches the register again, it’s hard not to look up and watch his ascent. when he finally does come to a stop in front of you, he looks the same as he did the last summer, though the tiny silver trident earring is new, the camp beads resting peacefully atop his collarbones aren’t.

you ring up his items: a box of band-aids, the arizona green tea, and a pack of blue gummy sharks, looking away from him all the while.

“good to see ya, doc,” jackson says, a wry grin on his face, and his eyes are so green — as green as they were at twelve.

“it’s never good to see you, jackson,” you snark back, reciting his total, “four ninety-five, by the way.”

he laughs again (your heart goes ba-dum again), and hands you a five dollar bill, shoving his things into the seemingly bottomless pockets of his baggy jeans, with a salute on his way out (his turning back was a sight far more innocuous than the last time).

the next time jackson breaks whatever tacit agreement lies between the two of you, your hands are similarly stained. reds and purples line your palms, much like the burgundy seemingly permanently staining your grandmother’s fingertips; the culprit (the bowl of pomegranate seeds) sits innocently beside you.

“back again?” you say, glancing at the familiar scarlet stains adorning jackson’s hands (a familiar blue friendship bracelet sits on his wrist, edges frayed with five years of wear, and there’s a lump in your throat).

“why, did you miss me?” jackson asks, again with that wry grin of his, skateboard in hand.

“you’re the one who came back,” you say, crossing your arms across your chest, willing the constricting feeling to disappear.

“doc, i’m sorry to have to be the one that has to break this to you,” he sighs sympathetically, putting a bleeding hand over his heart, “but the sun doesn’t revolve around you.”

“actually, jackson, the sun kind of does revolve around me, ‘cause y’know apollo, the sun god apollo? my grandpa apollo? my grandpa, the sun god, apollo?”

“going by your logic, that would mean time revolves around me, ‘cause y’know kronos, the time titan kronos? my grandpa kronos? my grandpa, the time titan, kronos?” jackson says, a shit-eating grin on his face as he sets down another band-aid box, an arizona green tea, and a pack of blue gummy sharks on the counter.

“y’know, if you cared this much, you might’ve passed greek,” you say, referring to the progress report cards you were handed at the end of summer.

he shrugged, handing you another five dollar bill, and proceeding to shove everything into his black holes of jean pockets, “yeah, well — wait, are those pomegranates?”

“yeah,” you say, “i peeled them myself — do you want some?”

(your father liked these, your grandmother had said earlier this afternoon, your mother liked to peel them for him, as i peeled them for her, and your grandfather.)

jackson suddenly looked bashful, fidgeting with the hem of his a tribe called quest t-shirt, “i’ve never had pomegranates before,” he confessed.

you blinked, taken aback, “you’re seventeen years old and you’ve never eaten a pomegranate before?” you pushed the china bowl toward him, “now you have to eat it.”

“my mom liked telling me the myths when i was younger,” he begins, setting down his skateboard, and reaching for the spoon before halting, like he was shocked, “she told me about persephone —”

“jackson,” you say, sardonically, leaning over the register to look him in the eye (there was always a storm brewing in his eyes), “i promise you, hades won’t come out of the ground and drag you to the underworld if you eat the pomegranate seeds i peeled.”

“i know what my next sleep paralysis demon is gonna be — thanks to you,” jackson says, looking down at the bowl and its floral blue pattern around the edges, playing with the spoon, and shifting the seeds from side to side.

“percy jackson, i swear to asclepius, you’re missing out on pomegranates,” you say, coming out from behind the register, and looking percy in the eye again, and there is something so earnest, so raw about your next sentence that his breath catches, “and, i swear on the styx, if hades does somehow come out of the ground to drag you down to the underworld, i’ll come down myself to drag you out, even if it’s tartarus.”

a rumble of thunder can be heard overhead despite the clear sky and scalding sun; percy blinks, before breaking out into a slow grin (your stomach seems to grow wings of its own, on the verge of flight.)

“invoking your dad, huh, doc? these pomegranates must be serious,” percy says, finally taking a bite — stepping around the bomb you just dropped.

you watch him intently, studying him as you studied tennyson and homer, “they are that serious.” there is something innocent about the way he eats, starved like every other teenage boy with black holes for stomachs.

“y’know, i can put that into a tupperware container and you can take it with you, right?” you offer.

“really?” percy asks through a mouthful of seeds, looking up from the bowl at you, “won’t you think i’ll steal it or something?”

“not really,” you shrugged, “i trust ms. jackson.”

percy nods solemnly — sally jackson is sally jackson after all, a queen among women, and an achilles of sorts, with her soft smile and steely eyes.

steeling your nerves, this is already the longest conversation you’ve had (ignoring the forever-ago late-night debriefs under a firmament of stars), you step up to the plate and take a swing, “how is she, by the way, haven’t seen her in a while.”

percy swallowed, eyebrows furrowing, “great — oh, wait, did i tell you she was seeing someone new now?”

“no way, really? good for her, honestly. i know, poseidon’s a god and all, but like, she’s always deserved just, so much more.” (you manage to make contact with the change-up thrown your way.)

there is something so sincere about your words, that percy can’t help but grin back, finally reaching the depths of his sea-green eyes, and there is something still so boyish about him, that you can hardly believe any time has passed at all, and that somewhere within this demigod who successfully defeated kronos, while saving luke, there is still a semblance of your percy.

“yeah, the guy, paul blofis, he’s an english teacher — absolutely worships the ground she walks on.”

“sounds perfect for her.”

“you should come over some time — see her, meet paul, y’know,” percy offers, still funneling spoonfuls of pomegranates, meeting your gaze head-on (this is the home run you were waiting on).

you grinned, a slow smile overtaking your face, pushing your hands in the pockets of your jeans, “might just take you up on that, before you change your mind.” (you’re leaving the ball in his hands now; it’s up to him to tag you out or let you reach home base safely.)

“nah, i won’t change my mind, unlike someone else i know.”

you ignore the jab (a smaller, suppressed part of you itches to shoot a reply back), instead choosing to focus on the hesitant hand of friendship being offered — as your father liked to say, keep moving forward.

you shrugged, and you swear, for a second you think the intensity of his gaze has lessened, almost as if disappointed. almost as if mentally shaking it off, percy hands you the china bowl back, empty, running a hand through his shaggy hair with a sheepish grin.

you smiled wryly, glancing down at the bowl and back to his face. “fatass,” you say, affectionately, and then almost freezing, wondering if you somehow overstepped the invisible lines constricting you.

percy laughs — a green light.

“lucky for you, though,” you say, disappearing behind the register for a moment before reappearing with a tupperware container filled with peeled pomegranates, “i peeled more.”

you hold it out to him, and he glances down at your outstretched hand, then at your face, before seemingly making up his mind, and accepting the olive branch, “you’re really committed to seeing my mom, huh?”

“well, obviously — the other alternative would be seeing you, wouldn’t it?”

“aw, c’mon, doc, i know you missed me,” percy says, a bit smug, picking up his skateboard, the tupperware container in his other hand (the one he still wears your bracelet on).

“in your dreams, jackson.” there is a peal of odd laughter in your voice as if you were unused to this kind of jocularity when fumbling over his name.

“in my dreams, we do more than just argue,” percy says, with one last smug smile and salute, before walking out the door, leaving you behind in the worst state of confusion you’ve possibly suffered (percy jackson: 1, you: 0).

(your grandmother admonishes you later that evening as you stand beside her stooped figure at your kitchen counter, peeling pomegranates, you gave the rest of it to that boy, didn’t you? her voice is not scolding, but you feel like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar once more. your immortal grandfather, the nuisance that he is, stands in the doorway, hands in an 80s leather jacket and matching sunglasses, waiting to be welcomed in. in contrast, his son — your father — brushes past him, grumbling, and takes on your grandmother’s burden.)

the analog clock reads ten fifty-five as you start mopping the floor, yawning when the front door swings open with a jingling bell, and a sharp metallic smell wafts into the store.

you whirl around, gripping the mop in your hand as a baseball bat, immediately alert as your demigod reflexes come into play. you physically relax at the sight of percy clutching his side, crimson pooling on the edges of his white t-shirt.

“of course you would attack a man when he’s injured,” percy says with a grin, blood dripping from a gash over his eye (luke had returned to camp some years ago, with a similar scar), and a split lip, collecting like rust on his t-shirt collar.

you scowled, dropping the mop and immediately rushing toward him, your healing instincts kicking in. lifting one of his arms and letting it curl around you, you shouldered him to the register, cringing with every audible wince percy let out.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?” you asked, as you sat him on your stool, reaching for the ambrosia and nectar you kept hidden under the counter for emergencies (one could never be too careful).

percy grinned — it came out more of a grimace, “what isn’t wrong with me — that’s the question you should be asking, doc.” he nodded to himself, and then immediately cringed at the action.

you glared at him, shoving an ambrosia square in his mouth, before turning away from him to put antiseptic on cotton pads. “does ms. jackson know you’re here?”

“no?” percy says. you walk over to the fridge, grab a water bottle, unscrew the cap, and drench the part of his t-shirt covered in blood.

“ow? in case you forgot, i’m still injured here, doc?” percy clutches at his side.

“you dumbfuck, your mom is probably worried out of her mind right now,” you say, scowling, stepping closer to percy (he still towers over you, even when sitting down).

“i iris messaged her,” he shrugs, looking at you as you shift even closer to him, cotton pad in your hand, “she just knows i’m with you — pretty relieved at that, dunno why.”

reaching out to grasp his jaw in your hand, you begin dabbing at the bruises on his cheekbones, his eyes fluttering shut as you try to ignore the way his hot breath is fanning across your face right now. “you didn’t tell her what happened?”

percy opened his eyes, staring at you. “no, how could i?” he says, slowly, “you were her favorite — still are, by the way.”

you don’t say anything for a moment — after all, how could you? (sally jackson’s homemade cookies drift to the front of your treacherous mind — the sunny afternoons with her kind voice, and percy’s loutish laughter.)

“you didn’t come to see her,” percy says, the statement not accusatory, his eyes fluttering shut again (you try not to let the way his eyelashes sit so prettily distract you) as you dab at the gash over his eye.

“i didn’t think i was welcome,” you say gruffly, turning away to grab bandages. “after everything.”

while the deeper wounds have eased into far easier, superficial ones, you still make sure to wrap and bandage everything — percy had a penchant for getting into trouble (one that you knew all too well), so it was the least you could do.

“i just told you that you were welcome, last time i was here, didn’t i?” percy says, an accusation.

“yeah, well, it was hardly an invitation was it?” you say, turning away from him, packing your supplies up.

“doc, you didn’t even come to take your tupperware back.”

you ignore him, moving to walk away when his hand is enclosed around your wrist (the hand that wears your blue friendship bracelet), tugging you around to face him.

percy’s standing up now, his green eyes looking more like a swirling storm with each passing second — he still hasn’t let your wrist go.

“what do you want from me?” you ask, trying to snatch your hand back from him, to no avail — his grip is ironclad.

“i can’t let you walk away with your back turned to me again,” he says (the dim, lantern-lit night comes back into focus, and you wonder if you were too consumed by your own pride, if you had just turned around, if you had just stayed).

you realize too late that tears are pricking in the corners of your eyes, and you manage to successfully wrench your hand out of his grasp, a watery, sarcastic laugh escaping, “you’re a couple years too late, asshole.”

“i know that,” percy says, earnest, reaching out to cup your cheek, and wipe a stray tear (the action stuns you into paralysis), “but i miss you, and my mom misses you, and she hasn’t gotten off my case about you, yet.”

the thought of tender-hearted sally jackson scolding percy is an amusing one, and draws a laugh out of you against your will (percy’s smile grows a little brighter, and asclepius knows you’ve never been able to resist that smile of his), “i’ll come over for ms. jackson, not you.”

percy’s smile is even wider now (his hand is still ghosting your cheek), “same thing.”

“shut up,” you say swatting at his shoulder, trying to duck out from under his arms.

percy avoids your attempts to escape him, instead latching onto your hand, and pulling you out of the store. “c’mon, she’s expecting us for dinner.”

you let out an incredulous laugh, and let yourself be dragged out anyway (you would follow this boy anywhere, even to the depths of tartarus).

(your grandmother watches from the apartment window above the store, a soft smile gracing her lined features.)

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo x reader #percy jackson imagines #percy jackson fluff #percy jackson and the olympians #woc friendly #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x yn #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson oneshot #percy jackson one-shot #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson series #percy jackson x fem! reader #percy jackson oneshots #kashaf ki likhai

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decaffeinatedpartymuggoop · 3 months

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Guys percabeth fics set pre-tlo feed me so good you don’t have any idea.

The angst? The arguing? The PINING?? Beautiful

#heavy on the arguing cause #there’s the dumb ones #but then the ones about Luke and the war and Rachel #the fact that he left camp during the summer and stayed in New York #god #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo series #percy jackson #pjo tv show #tlo #the last olympian #ANNABETH WANTING TO SAVE LUKE #like I hate when they argue #but it’s soooo good

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wowthatsextra · 3 months

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We Percabeth fans are so spoiled because Percy STAYED screaming crying throwing up over Annabeth and it still isn’t enough 😭😭

There's a twitter discourse rn on Percy having a ~situationship~ with Rachel in TLO and people are like "If I was Annabeth I would date a guy in front of him and make him grovel" as if 1. Percy wasn’t thinking about Annabeth the entire time and 2. He wasn’t already groveling his guts out for years at that point???

Part of the reason why he even started hanging out with Rachel that summer was because him and Annabeth were having issues after what happened with Luke in BOTL. Yk when she "lost a love to worse than death"?? The same Luke she's had feelings for and blindly defended almost the entirety of the series? Percy was jealous of Luke and Annabeth since book ONE lmao and in book 3 he was terrified that she would swear off boys and hang out with girls forever... that boy has done plenty of groveling.

Look I get what you mean- Percy has had multiple love interests who he could've had real relationships with (Rachel, Calypso) whereas Annabeth was in a one-sided codependent dynamic with Luke which doesn’t count as much of a love interest. So I get wanting to, like, even the scales a bit. But the idea that Annabeth was the only one pining and waiting around for him while he got to pick between multiple girls is just... not true. She was as unavailable as he was. He was as in love with her as she was. It's a pretty even simp4simp relationship!

On another note, I never got why some fans are so worked up over Percabeth vs Perachel when it was never even a contest? Annabeth kissed Percy and he said he could stand there forever and try to remember his name. Rachel kissed percy and his reaction was "i don't want Annabeth to find out" 😭 Perachel is no threat to Percabeth guys. We can chill

Ok rant over

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hermesmyplatonicbeloved · 3 months

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Cyclops Are Valuable and Highly Skilled Workers in PJO

Something I find really interesting is how in SoM it's said that "Cyclops are mistakes," and that seems to be the tone the fandom takes, but then nearly everything we hear of cyclops in every book/series says differently?

Of course there's outliers like Polyphemus and the cyclops Annabeth stabbed as a 6-7 year old but those are the exceptions. The majority of cyclops that are mentioned/seen aren't like that.

In tlt, Chiron says that Zeus thinks Poseidon stole his lightning bolt so Poseidon could have his cyclops study and make copies of it. Which means that his cyclops are highly competent weaponsmiths.

In SoM, Tyson works with Beckendorf and the Hephaestus kids and learns how to make magical objects. By the end of the book, Tyson makes a magical shield for Percy, which reveals so many of his talents: 1. Tyson is an artist (the shield was covered in scenes of their adventures from that summer), 2. Tyson went from fumbling with small objects to making an intricate shield in the space of 2 months. Which means that Tyson (and possibly all cyclops) have the ability to learn/pick up on skills very quickly with high degrees of proficiency. 3. Not to mention all the work that went into the mechanics of making the watch and the shield.

In SoM, Tyson was able to tell that Clarisse's warship's engine was failing, and was able to fix it, long enough for it to hold together for a few more minutes. And this was with little to no education in ship engines. So just as Percy has instinctive power over old fashioned wooden ships, Tyson has power over modern engineered ship engines.

In tlo, Poseidon's army of cyclops fought alongside him and the other Olympians against Typhon, demonstrating that not only are they decent warriors/soldiers but they are literally the best. They're good enough to fight alongside Olympian gods, including Zeus. In tlo, Zeus makes Tyson a general of Olympus's armies. So 1. Cyclops can hold positions of authority not only in Poseidon's kingdom but also Zeus's. And 2. Olympus also has an army of cyclops (I'm assuming that Tyson is a general over an army of cyclops and not an army of lesser immortals/nymphs/satyrs/minor gods).

In tlo, Tyson and his cyclops friends are the ones building most of the minor gods cabins. Which shows that they're construction workers and civil engineers. Possibly architects too - aside from Nico's cabin it's unclear who designed the other cabins.

In HoO, Gaea has an army of cyclops, one that marched towards camp jupiter. Idk if they're Poseidon's cyclops - and I highly doubt they are because the gods including Poseidon were against Gaea, and most of Poseidon's cyclops live with him in Atlantis - and also because according to Greek myths Gaea and Ouranus also had a few cyclops kids. Gaea was using her own cyclops kids here. Either way, the fact that they're part of an army, one that responded to their mother/grand-mother etc. call shows that they're competent soldiers, at the very least.

In Cotg, Percy sees many cyclops building Poseidon's summer villa. So their abilities include construction and civil engineering as well.

So in conclusion, cyclops are hella talented. They're highly proficient in weapon making, magical weapons making, they have unnaturally good abilities to pick up on new skills, they're elite fighters, hold positions of authority in multiple kingdoms, construction workers and civil engineers.

They're literally trades people. And in our society, tradesmen (and women) literally hold our houses together. They're essential workers. Society would fall apart without them. You wouldn't have a house, or plumbing or electrical systems or a furnace or AC without tradesmen.

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seaweed-butch · 4 months

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The way i wanted to throttle Percy that summer he spent with Rachel Elizabeth Dare when it could have been his last summer ALIVE. Plus, it was after Annabeth kissed him before the volcano erupted. Like??? Sir??? How are you gonna get kissed by Annabeth, almost die, go to a magical island and fall for CALYPSO, and spend your summer with another girl 😭 Rick had me throwing my book against the wall. I had BEEF with Rachel for shooting her shot, especially when they were in the car together before TLO. Like…. Percy. Cmon. Get out of the damn car. What was bro DOINGGGGG??? He really is the most oblivious boy to ever exist cuz he really saw NO issues with this on top of never talking about his vacation at calypso’s either. He had the audacity to be confused when Annabeth was pissed at him 😭 but you know what? Percy’s just a boy. He’s just a boy 🧍🏻

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy pjo #percy jackson #annabeth chase #rachel elizabeth dare #percabeth #the last olympian #percy and annabeth #pjo percy #pjo series #pjo fandom #seaweed dyke #seaweed butch

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aroaceleovaldez · 1 year

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I actually have a very specific headcanon for how Will Solace ended up at CHB that I don’t really talk about much in-depth (besides some little inklings of it on Deadangelos here and there) because of how he’s only introduced in TLO, so I figured i’d get into it.

Because we know Will isn’t a camper in BoTL but is in TLO (and was made counselor because he literally only had two siblings left), I headcanon that he joined camp in the off-season the winter after BoTL.

Basically, I figure Will got into a fight with some bullies at school, not necessarily because they were bullying him (because people tend to just kind of generally like him) but because he’s the kind of person who calls people out on their BS, and he got so mad that he accidentally caused some kind of minor plague. Either a plague of rats or locusts or just plain old weird case of like The Black Death. Whatever happened, obviously nobody assumed it was him because that seems physically impossible, but his school ends up closed down for a bit so Will has to find a new school. And cause he’s twelve and his powers are starting to ramp up more and he has to find a new school anyways (and maybe Naomi is about to go on tour and isn’t able to help Will find a new school at that moment) they decide it’s time for him to go to CHB and that he’ll be a year-round camper unless he gets sick of it and really wants to come home in the off-season. So Will goes to CHB in the middle of winter and immediately it sucks. It’s that kind of sleet weather where all the snow is grey and wet and keeps freezing and unfreezing. It’s annoyingly cold but not really cold enough for a heavy jacket and it’s cloudy and dark and the sun sets by like 4. And Will’s from Texas and an Apollo kid (never seen snow before and solar-powered) so he’s immediately miserable and Argus has to basically drag him from the airport to camp.

And then when he actually gets to camp it turns out he’s the only Apollo kid there. Because year-round Apollo kids are basically unheard of (given their powers are generally mellow enough that they’re fine going home for the off-season and Apollo kids are notorious snowbirds anyways) (and canonically there were no year-round Apollo kids pre-TLO). And it’s the dead of winter between BoTL and TLO so camp is particularly empty with like probably a dozen or so campers total. So Will is stuck in an empty cabin feeling miserable and there’s barely any other campers to make friends with (and even fewer his own age, since he’s at that point one of if not the youngest kid in camp). He tries to make friends regardless and Drew immediately adopts him as her best friend (and he doesn’t really get a choice in the matter) and Chiron ends up taking Will under his wing as a medic apprentice, which Will enjoys and it helps brighten his spirits a bit, which makes everyone else in camp feel a little bit better in turn because seeing a little happy sunny twelve year old Apollo kid running around healing people really helps takes their minds off their impending doom, especially while camp is the most barren it’s been in decades.

Then the other Apollo kids start trickling back when the weather turns and it’s a little awkward because Will has to get used to having siblings and not being in an empty cabin and the other Apollo kids have to get used to having a new sibling right after they all just lost Lee Fletcher (which Will is very mortified to learn about). And it’s even more awkward because they’re not used to siblings arriving to CHB while nobody’s there, so Will’s already used to camp and knows everybody except the summer-only kids so they don’t have to show him the ropes or anything, but also Will’s been doing everything by himself so it’s odd for him to adjust to having to listen to his older siblings. Weird feelings all around. (And extra bonus points if we’re also going with the headcanon that plague children of Apollo are considered bad luck, so Will feels extra bad about showing up right after the old cabin counselor died and right before the major battle of the war, and so refuses to tell anyone about his plague powers.)

It gets better for a bit when Kayla and Austin join camp a little before the Battle For Manhattan, cause Will isn’t the youngest in the cabin anymore and they’re both also year-rounders, but then it immediately turns sour when after the war suddenly those three are the only ones in the cabin. So now Will is traumatized and has to be in charge of his also traumatized barely-younger-than-him siblings, and he’s in an (almost) empty cabin again, and he’s only been at camp for less than a year and is still one of the youngest kids at camp. And he still doesn’t like winters in New York and he misses his mom.

Things turn up for him a bit after the war when there's the sudden huge influx of new campers, so he’s not the youngest anymore and he has something to busy himself with and camp is bustling even in the off-season. But for that first year Will just has an absolutely cruddy time, because man it must have sucked to be a campers joining in the middle of the Titan War.

#pjo #riordanverse #will solace #headcanon #headcanons #long post #long post //#might edit to be under a read-more later who knows #this is one of my weird posts that's long enough to warrant the long post tag #but not really long enought to warrant a read-more? liminal post length #anyways i think a lot about titan war era chb and how empty it was #especially in the winters #and how we KNOW that Will cant have joined earlier than BoTL so he has to have joined at like. the worst time possible #and we know from TTC that there were no year-round cabin 7 kids #so Will joining between books being one of the youngest kids and alone in his cabin in an empty camp must have SUCKED #and then on top of it all. he's also from texas and stuck in his first NY winter

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