I Just Saw A Head Canon That All The Fake Memories Jason Has Of Him And Piper Are Real Memories But They

i just saw a head canon that all the fake memories jason has of him and piper are real memories but they were the things he did with reyna and i am not okay—

Jason Grace if Olympus had their own version of the Met Gala!

Worst pain

i've seen the headcanon that jason has a higher body temperature cuz he's got lightning in his veins or something like that but i would like to suggest that jason is the temperature of the air around him. he just picks up the temperature around him.

also he doesn't smell of ozone or pine needles and citrus or whatever the popular thing is, his scent is literally just the air. he picks up the scent of the air. he is the air

Thalia doesn’t keep many things in the hundreds of years she’s been alive. 

But long ago, there were people, their names all but distant memories, who mattered in her 1st lifetime. It’s their things that stay hidden in her bag, reminding her of her mortal life. 

A blue hoodie, worn almost threadbare. The scent of its original owner, long since leached from the fabric. But if she closes her eyes, she can almost see the blue eyes of her first and only love. 

A pair of glasses. Frames cracked and crooked. A reminder of a brother she never got to truly know. 

A baseball cap. It’s magic long faded, branded with a forgotten logo. Memories of a blonde girl laughing hidden deep within. 

A letter. Ink fading, paper yellow. The last words of a dying friend. Words that wish her well, words that wished her well in a world they had fought side by side to save. 

Thalia doesn’t keep a lot of things, but even after all this time, Luke, Jason, Annabeth, and Percy will stay with her forever. The memories of her first family to remind her why life is so beautiful.

For the anon who asked me how I imagine the seven:

Annabeth. Legs, legs, legs for days. Sharp eyes and sharper words. Cries when animals die in movies but not people. Red or pale blue dresses. Big, lofty, voluminous curls. That baby sitter you have thats your first crush. Bites the inside of her cheek. Boxy jawline and delicate features and turns heads when walking down the street. Just wants a hug but will deny it. A golden crown and golden wings. Bruised knuckles. Blonde ambition.

Jason. Warm. A golden meadow in the sun. Rosy cheeks. Typecast as Prince Charming, the Quarterback, the Homecoming King. The proverbial son. Everyone’s crush. Can make the perfect paper airplane. A certain air of sadness. The perfect part to his hair. Accidentally shocks everyone. Fuzzy socks. Tall and athletic. Carries his golden retrievers in his arms. Knows he’s seen as perfect and hates it.

Hazel. Small and sprite-like. Tucked beneath chins when hugged. The little birds that sing in trees. Big eyes. Can’t hold a grudge against a friend to save her life. Tight, springy, corkscrew curls that just barely brush her shoulders like a dark, dense cloud. Puts her hands on her friends’ cheeks. A smile that could light up a room. Beautiful, warm, brown.

Leo. A mop of curls thats always blown back. Short. Tells jokes to cover the pain. Long thin fingers that are covered in cuts and bruises. Fireworks in the street at midnight. Shirts with the sleeves rolled up. A smile that says he will set something on fire. Accidentally explodes the microwave. Flamin’ Hot Cheetos. Unrequited love. Jumps into hugs. Likes making other people laugh. Sticks his tongue out in arguments.

Percy. A trouble maker smile. A daring smirk. The feeling you get when the roller coaster drops. Blasting Queen with the car windows rolled down. Late night city walks. Killer hair, dark and thick and tousled. A sharp jaw that clenches. Ducking beneath doorframes. Hugging your mom. The ocean during a storm. Twirling a baseball bat. A school uniform with an untucked shirt, a loose tie. Spontaneous slow dances. Baking cookies in the middle of the night.

Piper. Willowy. Average height that may be considered on the tall side if she weren’t surrounded by tall people. Snorts when she laughs. Hair that she cut herself at 2 in the morning. Different colored nail polish on every finger. Fantasy books. Songs with heavy bass. Scraped knees and elbows. Doesn’t like to wear revealing clothes. Poprocks. A smile that holds a secret. Sunset orange is her favorite color. 

Frank. A teddybear. A round, joyful face. Is genuine when he says “Good game.” Makes the tough calls when asked for it. Early morning practice. Smiles at babies. Hoodies, hoodies, hoodies. Rubbing the back of your neck. Always is the shoulder to cry on. Hitting the bullseye every time. Snow ball fights. Definitely has turned into a dog to feel the pure joy of sticking his head out a car window.