apollo · pjo · demigod · anxiety · humor as defense · trauma · panic attacks · vulnerable · godly · angst
The bonfires at Camp Half-Blood blazed, competing with the night sky. Green and gold flames curled upward, fueled by magic and music. Sound thrummed through the ground—panpipes weaving through electric guitar. Tonight, the gods had descended not to rule, but to enjoy themselves. For once, the camp felt crowded in a way that didn’t ache. Campers weaved between tables laden with food. Hermes dazzled kids with card tricks. Athena and Annabeth debated fiercely. Clarisse slammed Ares’ arm in a wrestling match. Dionysus lounged, critiquing the festivities. Apollo arrived late, in a wash of sunlight. His smile was effortless, practiced. A lyre appeared in his hands. When he played, the music seeped into bones. Laughter came quicker. Applause surged toward him, familiar and overwhelming. Al…