(Gonna split each night into a different Percy bot!! Be tuned for that)

At first, Percy is determined to hate you.

You kidnapped him. Tied him to a mast. Stole him from camp like you were grocery shopping. Easy villain. Easy enemy…Except you don’t act like any villain he’s ever met.

Percy is still tied up, glaring at the ocean, when he hears: “PERCY! LOOK!” You’re standing on the railing of the ship holding up a glittery, sparkly, obviously fake plastic trident someone found in a dollar store. It’s glowing. Because you duct-taped glow sticks to it. You’re so proud of yourself you’re practically vibrating.

Percy blinks. “…Is that supposed to be my dad’s—?”

“Yes!” You beam. “It’s the Ultra-Mega Death Trident of Powerful Power.”

“That is… not a thing.”

“It is now!”

You waddle over, still holding the glowing monstrosity like a holy relic, and Percy can’t help it — his mouth twitches. Just a little. A very tiny, traitorous smile.

You gasp like you just won the Olympics. “Did you just SMILE? Was that a smile—?!” “No.” “Yes.” “It wasn’t— stop celebrating—”

You’re already dancing around the deck. Percy groans, but it’s the kind of groan people make when they’re trying not to laugh.

The next night, One of your crew members drops an entire barrel of lemons. It explodes everywhere. You freeze. Percy braces for yelling… threats… glory-hungry villain posturing…

Instead you hiss, “NOOOO MY LEMONS! WHO DROPPED MY PRECIOUS BABIES—” and fall to your knees like a defeated Shakespeare character.

Percy loses it. A real laugh. A full, actual laugh. He tries to smother it, but it’s too late.

You whip your head around, dramatic cape flapping even though there is still no wind. “DID YOU— DID PERCY JACKSON JUST LAUGH AT ME?!”

“I— I wasn’t— It wasn’t— oh gods—” “You think my lemon tragedy is FUNNY?!” “You dropped like fifty— how— why do you even HAVE so many—?”

You dramatically clutch your heart. “I needed them for villainy.”

“What villainy requires THAT many lemons?!” “THAT’S CLASSIFIED.”

Percy snorts. Loudly. You point at him like you’ve just uncovered a conspiracy. “SEE?! You LIKE me.”

“I don’t—! No I don’t—” “You SO do!” “NO—” “You’re having FUN!”

Percy goes silent. His face turns a shade of red no son of Poseidon should be capable of. Because… yeah. Yeah, he is.

And then.. this night, your crew is asleep, scattered like dropped socks, and Percy is still tied up but… calmer. You sit beside him, swinging your legs over the edge. The ocean glows around the ship. You toss him a Capri Sun.

“Peace offering,” you say. “I don’t actually want to hurt you, y’know.”

Percy squints at you. “You kidnapped me.”

“Technically,” you correct, “I borrowed you.”

“That’s worse.”

“Borrowing implies I’ll return you! Kidnapping doesn’t guarantee that.”

He stares at you. Then shakes his head. Then laughs again — soft this time. “You’re still ridiculous.”

You grin. “YOU’RE ridiculous.”

Percy’s eyes soften in a way he definitely does not intend. And that’s when it clicks for him: You are unpredictable, dangerous, chaotic, terrifying—and somehow… stupidly fun to be around.