#but i don’t think he would have survived without annabeth being there as well

[timdrakemybeloved]

So I don’t know if I’m overthinking this but whatever it’s about how I feel so:

I hate how Percy has come to be seen as dumb. I understand that people are joking for the most part but I think it’s fucked up to choose Percy out of all people to be the “dumb” one. Percy is an extremely smart, strategic and kind leader.

Just to be clear, for all of these points, there are too many examples to name so I’m sticking to one each.

For one, because with almost every person he meets he empathizes with them even when whatever is happening is risky to his well-being, he’s seen as dumb. Like with the river nymph at the farm with Apollo’s cows, when he had to clean the river, he chose to overexert himself rather than cause her harm, even before she offered him another solution. This was empathetic, not dumb.

Second, I’m not trying to diminish Annabeth by saying this because she is very intelligent and capable, but Percy has much more battle leading experience than her. It’s distasteful to say that he’s a “moron who wouldn’t have survived without her” and I don’t think she should have said or agreed with that. Just because his plans are often more risky and he’s capable of improvising doesn’t mean he’s an idiot. For example, when he and the Hunters are fighting the Nemean Lion he throws the space food which is very creative and strategic and I don’t really think anyone else would have considered that. Teamwork is one thing, which is very valuable and yes Percy did need help to survive, but I would go so far as to say that Annabeth wouldn’t have survived without Percy, not the other way around, if it has to be such a competition.

Third, my main point, is that the reason these books were written were to help Rick Riordan’s son feel less like he was lazy/stupid/different/insert other reductive adhd stereotype. When Percy has been othered his whole life for his adhd and dyslexia, abused and called stupid by his stepfather for it, and has now come to a world where his skills are valuable and useful, calling him dumb is so insensitive. Leo and Percy are the ones with the most visible adhd and they’re also the ones who are viewed as dumb or needing others to survive. Basically, it’s a bad joke that just reinforces the adhd=dumb stereotype and I really don’t fucking like it. :))))

I’m not actually diagnosed I just have a family member with adhd and I have most of the symptoms so I feel like I can speak on this with some experience but yk ymmv.

[silverwashi]

Just got home from a 7 hour drive. Ugh. I’m so tired. But real quick before I fall asleep, I watched the hunger games the other day and ever since all I’ve been thinking about is Nico. So here’s some things I’ve been thinking of the past few days.

Nicos reaped at 13. The youngest victor in history. The capitals darling, their little Angel of Death. When he’s 16 he declines a random ass interview because it’s Biancas 17th birthday. A few months later she’s reaped and he knows it was his fault.

Bianca allies herself with Percy and Annabeth. Star-cross lovers from another district and she dies in Percy’s arms.

The year after Nico’s reaped again.

Percy chooses him as his and Annabeths’ ally. Mainly out of guilt and obligation. Even if Nico’s survived the games before- he’s 3 years younger than them and Biancas little brother to boot. Annabeth doesn’t trust him, thinks he’s bidding his time to get rid of them for killing his sister. But Nico knows the Capitol, knows Percy and Annabeth are victims just like him and his sister.

Nico is 17 when he joins the rebellion. The same age Bia died.

I have many more thoughts about this au. Including but not limited to Hazel taking Johannas place as the victor without any loved ones who openly detests the capital. & Reyna and Jason as deserters from the capital.

In a world where I wasn’t first and foremost a Nico stan this would probably be Perc*beth but there’s probably a bunch of hunger games fics with them so I’m thinking Percico. Just for the added pain of them being a forbidden romance because of how much the rebellion is fueled by Perc*beth. But also Percy and Nico in that Finnick deleted scene with the rope??? I die.

Anyways this works extra well with Percy as Katniss. Having volunteered for Tyson. Mainly because I don’t think he’d be as willing to play the game as Peeta is, specifically because of how he interacts with the gods. I think he could play Peetas role just like I think Annabeth could be Katniss. But I think it’s best if it’s a bit of a role reversal. Percy as the one who everyone immediately adores, Annabeth fighting tooth and nail to prove herself just as capable.

Pls excuse any mistakes I’m a little delirious- thanks 🫶

[the-pjo-analyst]

Chapter 10 -  I Ruin a Perfectly Good Bus

Theme of the day: Foresight

Foresight can basically have two meanings: prudence or provision for the future, and being able to see the future. There was a bit of both in this chapter!

We get a look into what the trio packs for their quest, including items that Chiron/CHB provides. They get useful provisions like ambrosia and nectar for wounds, mortal cash and drachmas for all their regular and godly transactions. Percy has very few possessions with him at the camp, as was already mentioned when he moved to cabin 3, so he just has basic essentials. Annabeth has a cool hat and a wicked dagger, but also a book bc a girl’s gotta stay entertained somehow while stuck traveling with two boys across the country lol. Grover has his items to disguise himself as human, a reed pipe for his goat magic except he only knows two (2) songs, and lots of snacks for the long roadtrip. Although most of all this gets destroyed at the end of the chapter sjdkfhs. But just when you think Percy is going out their weaponless, he receives good old Riptide! Whoever enchanted her must’ve been like there’s a kid who’ll use this in the future who can’t keep pens on him for the life of him and they’re probably the realist person in this series. Did Percy a solid lol.

The Hermes shoes Luke gives to Percy, at face value, is foresight on Luke’s part. Seemingly, he wants them to help Percy in someway on his quest. I completely forgot about the shoes tbh, but they’re an important part of the plot later on lol, and a clue to who the traitor is. Because they’re programed to drag the wearer into Tartarus when they enter the underworld and deliver certain godly attributes to a certain Titan. So ig the shoes are Luke’s foresight, just not in the way we might initially expect. Although he definitely didn’t have the foresight that Percy wouldn’t be the one wearing the shoes lmao. Should’ve thought about how a son of Poseidon can’t take to the skies! I wonder if Luke’s awkwardness in wishing Percy good luck was bc he knew that he shouldn’t care, but did anyway. I’m not a Luke apologist in anyway, but he’s such a complicated character that he’s fascinating to analyze lol. And the way Percy admires him!! It’s so cute. Makes the betrayal so much more tragic ;A;

There’s lots of foreshadowing this chapter. Besides the shoes, Kronos is mentioned, Medusa is indirectly referenced, the hints with the Furies saying where is it, and Prometheus is also mentioned although he’s not officially introduced until book 5. I’ll even include the tourist that takes a picture of crazed Percy fleeing the bus in the list too lol. There might be others I missed.

Backtracking a little, I know Grover meant well when talking about Sally, but I wouldn’t tell someone that they should be grateful when a decision or action results in abuse in some way. Like yes, Sally having the foresight in keeping Percy around someone that could mask his demigod smell was a good thing in the long run, but they both suffered from it. I don’t blame Sally at all, because all she wanted was for her son to survive. And who knows what she herself had to deal with when Percy wasn’t around. Maybe he was around for the worse parts and it’s just not narrated. Maybe it wasn’t the best decision per se, but the other options were either Percy dying or Percy growing up without a father and a mother, so 🤷🏾‍♀️ Can you imagine how he would’ve felt if Sally just left him at camp as a small child. Like they still could’ve kept in contact but Percy probably wouldn’t feel good about it. We might’ve gotten a different story if that was the turn of events. There would be no blue in Percy’s life! Like.... what would Percy be without his obsession for the color blue??

Anywho, it’s late and I’m ranting 😂 I’ll end it with a pondering over what exactly Chiron heard in these prophecies he keeps mentioning 🤨

Small things:

I’ll never get over when we found out Riptide is a girl and the Sword of Summer proceeded to flirt with her lolol

I can’t tell whether Argus is winking at Percy for his pizza joke or charmed by the preteen flirting lol. The very first Percabeth shipper xD

Have I mentioned I love their banter lol

Once more, we get a glimpse into Percy’s extreme loyalty. He can never leave a friend behind 🥺

I had a realization that Hilary Duff’s “So Yesterday” only came out a few years before TLT did and I don’t think I fully comprehended how old this book is until now sjdfhskjdf

Previous: Chapter 9 - I Am Offered a Quest

Next: Chapter 11 - We Visit the Garden Gnome Emporium

[yonemurishiroku]

Things i want to see in Nico solo book

Help from the Seven. Such as some inventions from the Hephaestus cabin, Reyna’s gift and threat of “If you don’t come back i will personally jump down there and drag you back to the surface”. And perhaps some blessings from Apollo.

Hazel’s reaction. Percy and Ananbeth’s.

JASON GRACE COMEBACK OHHHHHHH. He would break out of Elysium to have a good luck talk with Nico and Will, really.

Dionysus’ secret support. That guy has a soft spot for Nico, srsly.

Nico and Will encouraging, supporting and protecting each other through out the trip. It goes both way.

Having gone through Tartarus once, Nico deals with deadly situations with either utmost fear or admirable experiences. Both of which break Will’s heart the same.

Damasen being impressed and sad that Nico survived in Tartarus alone without his help, unlike Percy and Annabeth.

Nico realizing Bob has gained back his lost memories. He’s terrified and lost, thinking he’s lost the first friend he made (because that who Bob is to him and you cannot convince me otherwise) and maybe this is a trap Iapetus set up to kill him and he even dragged Will into this———But then Bob smiles and assures them they are still friends all the same and Bob still wants to be a kind giant.

Will and Bob bonding over positive feelings towards Nico. Bob telling Will how Nico was kind enough to befriend him, then Will starts shamelessly fangirling over Nico.

Will telling their own story. WE GET TO SEE HOW THEY BECAME A COUPLE AKHDKWHSJSBSJX

Will’s trauma. Backstory. Character development. Something defining him more than just the fandom’s favorite character’s canon boyfriend.

Maria di Angelo. She’s an angel and if there’s not a single scene of her I’m fucking rioting.

Hades figuring out that Nico has gone to Tartarus. again. and somehow sending his aid. Maybe appearing in his dream for mental encouragement, idk. He is angry that Nico disobeyed him to dive right into danger, but he wishes his son safe all the same.

ZAGREUS. A SINGLE MENTION OF HIS NAME AND I’M GONNA COMBUST INSTANTLY. He doesn’t have to be like Zagreus in Hades game. I just want to see Underworld siblings bonding.

Anklys bringing back Nico’s anguish and sorrows and Will and Nico beating her. Will complimenting Nico on overcoming his pains and Nico being aware of Will’s struggles as well.

Will glowing in the House of Night and Nyx being annoyed. Idk why i just think it’s funny.

Fighting Tartarus himself. And maybe closing it for good this time.

Will helping a trog and later a trog saving him. Both become friends afterwards and Nico is glad but also teasing his boyfriend for it.

[timelesslords]

have my back, yeah, every day

Annabeth realizes that Percy started sleeping on his back, and she’s determined to know why.

or, a one shot based on this post 

Read on AO3

Annabeth had spent a surprising amount of her life watching Percy Jackson sleep. 

Not in a weird way. It wasn’t like she’d been sneaking into his cabin at night— at least, she hadn’t been before they started dating a month ago. It was just that the life of a demigod was inherently transient, and they’d spent a lot of time questing with each other, and questing meant sleeping in shifts. 

And sure, one could argue that the purpose of shift-sleeping was to watch out for threats, not watch your questing companions sleep. But in the absence of imposing threats it wasn’t like there was a lot else to do besides watch your friends sleep. And maybe Annabeth had focused on watching one friend in particular, so much so that she had picked up on a lot of his sleeping habits.

In the past month since they'd started dating, she'd only honed those observations to their minutiae: she could tell from the twitch of his fingers whether the dream he was having was good or bad. She could tell from his breathing whether he was in a deep sleep or a shallow one. She knew he ran hot and only slept with a sheet, if anything at all. 

So that was why Annabeth found it odd that Percy had suddenly shifted from being an adamant side-and-stomach sleeper to always, always, sleeping on his back.

Admittedly, she’d probably spent more time in the past two weeks watching Percy sleep than she had every other time combined, so her sample size had grown, which could somewhat account for the shift from stomach to back. Except that it wasn’t an occasional switch, something she could have caught onto earlier. It was every single time.

Every random nap (which he took a lot of, these days). Every time she snuck into his cabin at night and he fell asleep before her. Everytime she fell asleep first and woke up before him. Even right now, both of them on his bunk together, his head in her lap-- despite the fact that there was a perfectly good pillow not two feet away. On his back. Always.

Annabeth really wasn’t supposed to be here at all, but Percy spent a lot of time asleep lately, and she didn’t mind bending the rules to spend more time with him. Summer was starting to wind down, and that meant her time with him was starting to dwindle as well. She wanted to spend every possible minute they could together, even if it meant all she was doing was watching him sleep. And okay, maybe they’d spent some time making out before Percy’s nap, but still. He wasn’t asleep yet, but he was getting close. 

He looked so peaceful and relaxed Annabeth almost just kept her mouth shut altogether. But they’d both be going home in a few days, and she knew this was going to drive her crazy until she sucked it up and asked him about it.

"You never used to sleep on your back," Annabeth said, finally unable to take it anymore. 

Percy’s eyes fluttered open sleepily. Annabeth immediately felt a little guilty for depriving him of his nap, but he didn’t seem upset, just confused. 

“Huh?” he yawned. 

“You always used to sleep on your side. Or your stomach. And now you never do,” Annabeth said. She watched as recognition flitted across his features, but he still hesitated before answering. 

"Oh, yeah,” he said, unhelpfully. But Annabeth could tell that her instincts were right, and this was something going on, not just her being a crazy person who spent way too much time memorizing her boyfriend’s sleeping habits. 

Maybe she should leave it alone. He clearly didn’t seem all that excited to talk about it. But she’d already brought it up, and it was clearly bothering him, and well-- Annabeth was curious. 

“Why?” she asked. 

This time he glanced away, his eyes finding the ceiling instead of meeting her gaze. 

I guess after… everything, it just sort of felt exposed," he said, slowly. 

It took Annabeth a second to realize what he meant by "everything." There was the obvious answer, the one that went along with “exposed,” the one that frankly, she was already kicking herself for not guessing from the start. His Achilles spot was on his back, so no fucking wonder he didn’t want to sleep back to the world anymore. 

Annabeth could tell by the tone of his voice that it was more than that, just slightly. But she couldn’t even begin to parse out what that meant without acknowledging the obvious.

“Oh. Gods, I’m dumb,” she groaned, covering her face with one hand. 

He laughed, his shoulders shaking against her legs just slightly.

“You’re not dumb,” he said. His voice was affectionate, but she could tell his nerves about the whole thing hadn’t completely melted away. His finger had started tapping against the bedspread beside him, a nervous, unconscious gesture.  

“Yeah, but I should have…” 

Annabeth trailed off. She should have known. It was obvious. She was the only one who could have possibly known, because she was the only one who knew where his spot was, the only one he’d ever trusted with that information. And she hadn’t realized.

“What? Known?” Percy finished for her, raising an eyebrow. 

“Well, shouldn’t I have?” Annabeth asked, peering down at him through her fingers. 

Percy reached up, tugging on the hand that was still covering her face, pulling it away, down above his head, wrapped in his own. 

“Annabeth, I didn’t even know that you’d noticed I’d switched. It’s not a big deal.”

It had been so easy to forget about it all, the past month. Things had been normal, happy, better than normal, because now they were dating and the war was over and nobody was on the verge of predetermined death. And Annabeth had spent a month wondering why he’d stopped sleeping on his stomach and it hadn’t, not once, occurred to her why, even with the answer staring at her right in the face. She just hadn’t wanted to look. 

If she was honest, the curse scared her. Sure, it provided protection in a more general sense. He was never going to get a cut or a scrape or a burn from the lava wall. But it made everything so tenuous-- all of him was tethered to life through one tiny spot on his back. It could all fall away so easily, and Annabeth had been pushing that thought out of her mind for the entire past month. 

“Hey, you okay?” 

Annabeth glanced back down at Percy, jolted back to reality by his voice. He was frowning, little worried lines etched between his brows. 

“The curse isn’t the only reason,” Annabeth said, ignoring his question, “I mean it is, but-- there’s more.”  

He grimaced a little, but didn’t drop his eyes this time. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, trying to cover up his frown with a smile, squeezing her hand. 

But then his eyes flickered almost imperceptibly to her shoulder—where, under the fabric of her t-shirt, there was still a thick white scar from a poisoned knife that wasn't meant for her at all— and Annabeth suddenly understood everything. 

Percy could say what he wanted about the strategic placement of his Achilles heel; that it was small and hard to hit with armor on and all those other things. But Annabeth knew why he’d put it on his back maybe even better than he did. It was the same reason he’d always slept on his stomach, at least until now. Because even after everything he’d been through, all the fights he’d survived and all the betrayals he’d suffered, he was still a little too damn trusting. 

He’d put his weak spot on his back because there was some part of him, however small, that still believed people were good and decent and would face you head on, the same way he would. That they wouldn’t attack you when your back was turned, because even if it would give him the advantage, Percy would never win a fight that way. He’d banked on his own instinct, because that goodness was so built into his worldview he probably hadn’t even realized he’d done it.  

Obviously that hadn’t quite worked out, and Annabeth had almost died taking the knife that was literally and figuratively meant to stab him in the back. And Annabeth knew that that was what he meant by “everything,” not just the curse itself. 

Percy was still looking up at her, patiently waiting for her to be finished thinking, completely oblivious to her realizations. Annabeth bit her lip. She couldn’t tell him all that. For one, it was the opposite of “not worrying,” and for another she didn’t want him to worry about her. 

And she didn’t want him to be scared anymore. She wanted him to bear his back to the world as freely as he had before, because the thought of losing that part of him was painful in a way she didn’t even know how to describe. 

“Get up,” she said, nudging his head with her knee. 

“Why? Ow—” Another nudge and Percy was sitting up next to her, rubbing his temple. As soon as he was up, Annabeth laid down, pressing her back to the wall of the cabin. 

“What are you doing?” Percy asked, his expression a mixture of confusion and amusement.

“Fixing it,” Annabeth said, patting the bed next to her, “Lie down.” 

Percy gave her a weird look, but followed her instructions, tentatively lowering himself onto the mattress next to her, back down. 

“On your side, dummy,” Annabeth said, poking him in the ribs for emphasis. 

Percy frowned, suddenly realizing what she was trying to do.

“But your—”

Annabeth didn’t even need him to finish his sentence to know that he was protesting the fact that her back would be uncovered this way, nevermind the fact(s) that a) the chances of them being attacked at camp in his cabin were slim to none and b) Annabeth was not the one with her lifeline attached to one very specific exposed spot on her body. 

“Wall,” Annabeth reminded him, kicking the cabin wall behind her with one foot, just to remind him that it was there. 

Percy sighed, but was either out of protests or too tired to use them. He rolled over tentatively, his back pressed against her front. Annabeth curled into him, wrapping her arm around his chest, tucking her chin into the crook of his neck.

She could feel him relax under her, something tense in his limbs melting away, his breath slowing and evening out. 

“Better?” she asked, quietly, suddenly a little self-conscious. 

“Better,” he agreed, finding her hand and squeezing it again, “Thank you.” 

Annabeth smiled into his neck, lacing her fingers more securely through his. 

“You’re welcome,” she said, snuggling a little closer to him. 

They spent a quiet few minutes like that before either of them spoke again. Annabeth would almost think Percy had fallen asleep, except that he was rubbing little circles into her palm with his thumb. 

“I could get used to this,” he admitted. 

Annabeth’s chest felt warm, and she didn’t think it was from Percy’s body heat. He was trying to sound casual, but Annabeth could tell he meant it. 

“Yeah?” she asked, softly. 

She could hear the smile in his reply, even if she couldn’t see it. 

“Yeah. If you don’t mind.” 

It was Annabeth’s turn to smile, then. 

“I’m always gonna have your back, Seaweed Brain. You’re going to have to get used to it.” 

[annabethy]

stars above

in which Percy and Annabeth are laying under the stars and get philosophical,, percabeth,, honestly had no idea where to go with this so it’s really just them talking about nothing oh well

Percy likes to think that he’s a pretty tough guy. Years of demigod training have made him strong, and after everything he’s been though, he doesn’t want to appear weak. He’s glad to have built his name up in the world he lives in, and he’s glad that people know well enough that he isn’t someone to mess with.

Still, for as tough as he thinks he is, he certainly has a weak spot for the girl sitting in front of him.  

Annabeth sits on his lap facing him and presses kisses into every inch of his face that she can reach. It’s innocent enough with him laughing as her lips tickle against his skin. Percy almost forgets where they are, on the hillside quite literally in the middle of nowhere, but Annabeth does when she pulls away from him, breathless, so she can cup his face in her hands.

“I love this,” she whispers, part of her voice gone with the breeze of the night sky.

“And I love you.” Percy tries to pull her in for another kiss, but she slides off of his lap before he gets the chance to. He grabs her by the waist and whines, but she just gives a cute laugh.

“Poor baby,” she teases, settling onto the grass next to him. She doesn’t speak again until she lays back and he follows, opening an arm for her to rest against. Her palm rests gently against his chest, right over his heart, when she decides to keep being his personal bully. “You’re so in love with me that you can’t stand to go two minutes without a kiss.”

“That’s not true. I timed it a few weeks ago, and it was actually three minutes.”

“Oh. That’s impressive.”

“I do think so,” he murmurs, tilting his head to the side so he can press a kiss to her temple. Her eyes flutter closed at the soft contact, and it makes his brain feel a little fuzzy.

“Hm. That was more like two seconds.”

“What can I say? I’m a softy when it comes to you.”

“Percy Jackson? A softy?” Annabeth blows air between her lips playfully. “I never would’ve known.”

Percy rolls his eyes and squeezes her in his embrace.

“I mean… I know you’re practically a big teddy bear, but I’m pretty sure I saw a camper shit themselves when you walked by.”

“All fear Percy Jackson, Son of Poseidon,” he says, a soft smile on his lips. “I’m not that scary, am I?”

“I don’t think so,” she says. “Not to me, anyways.”

“Well, I don’t think anything scares you, if we’re being completely honest.”

“Spiders,” she suggests.

“That’s understandable,” he says. “Anything else?”

Annabeth goes silent, and it’s times like this that he wishes he could read her mind. He’s known her long enough to know when she has something to say but doesn’t know if she should say it. Instead of pushing it, he just holds her tight and looks up at the stars above. He counts them in his head, reaching twenty before she decides to speak again.

“I guess I am scared of you,” she says. “Or maybe I’m scared for you? I remember on your sixteenth birthday when we were fighting that war… I don’t think I had ever been as scared as I was on that day. I was terrified that you would die. So, yeah, I think I am scared of you.”

Percy takes a deep breath and focuses on a constellation. He thinks it’s the Perseus constellation, and it reminds him of how far he’s come. He’s still alive, and he’s going to get his happy ending just like the stars read to him, and she has no reason to be scared.

“I’m not going anywhere,” is what he says.

“Well, that’s pretty obvious,” she says lightly. “If you were going anywhere, it would’ve happened when you were twelve and fighting a minotaur with your bare hands. But that doesn’t stop me from being scared of it.”

“Then I guess that means I’m scared of you too,” Percy nudges her nose with his own and feels when she smiles against him, “but we’re surrounded by everything that should be impossible. We were literally born of gods. I think it’s safe to say that if we can survive the impossible, then we should be alright.”

“You think so?”

“We’re going to get our happy ending,” he says confidently. “We’re going to get older and get married, and eventually, we’ll have cute babies.”

“And we’ll stop being scared?”

“Not a chance.”

Annabeth snickers into his arm. “But I think being scared means you have something to lose.”

“Better hope we never do lose it.”

Percy kisses her nose. “I don’t think we will.”

“This feels oddly philosophical.”

“Right? Maybe we shouldn’t go on dates to open fields at night anymore.”

“But it’s pretty,” she tells him.

“Not as pretty as you,” he quips back. “Everything about you is beautiful.”

“What about my eyes?”

“I love your eyes.”

“I’ve been told they’re scary.”

Percy smirks and shifts so he can lay and face her more comfortably. “Maybe to other people, but to me, your eyes are like home. They’re like a storm, but when I see them, it’s the type of storm where you stay home with the people you love. It’s a storm where you lay underneath a blanket with a movie playing in the background, listening to thunder outside while you hold the love of your life.”

He wishes it weren’t night right now, so he could look her in the eyes and see the beauty he knows so well. “You’re my home,” he says softly.

It’s then that Annabeth sits back up, and he’s glad she does because it allows him to tug her closer and hold her like she’s the only thing that matters (because she is).

“I’m glad to hear that,” she whispers against his neck. “Because I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

“You better not,” he warns. “We have to get married first.”

“You really are a big softy.”

Percy smiles and looks back at the constellation to remind himself that this love is his. He already has his happily ever after right in front of his eyes, nestled into his arms, and he hopes that nothing changes.

“It’s because I’m in love with you. Is that a problem?”

“Not at all.” Annabeth pulls him closer by his chin and lets her lips brush against his. “Especially since I’m pretty in love with you too.”

[barbarianprncess]

of these rushing waves

(you’ll be the oxygen i breathe)

A week after the Titan War, Annabeth is drafting a temple to Hestia when the weight of being the only person in the world that knows Percy's weak spot hits her.

Like. Really hits her.

(or 2k words of annabeth discovering what she means to percy)

(the biggest of shout outs to @timelesslords for helping me make this coherent, and to @colorguardfreak97 for encouraging me every step of the way. enjoy <3)

read on ao3

A week after the Titan War, Annabeth is drafting a temple to Hestia when the weight of being the only person in the world that knows Percy's weak spot hits her.

Like. Really hits her.

And after about a day and a half freaking out about what it means and what she should do about it, she decides to go talk to him.

(Because not talking to him about what was bothering her led to the worst year of her life. Progress.)

They’re sitting on the beach, sharing Percy’s too small blanket- they both know he has bigger ones, but it’s an excuse to be almost on top of each other. She’s curled up resting on his chest, and he has one hand secured on her waist tracing patterns on her thigh, the other tangled in her curls. They watch the sunset and Annabeth is almost perfectly content.

Almost.

“How did you know?” The words tumble out of her without context.

He shifts to face her and raises an eyebrow. Annabeth finds it unfairly attractive.

“Know what?”

“When you told me your weak spot. How’d you know I could handle it?” The unspoken ‘because I don’t think I can handle it ’ must be apparent enough because Percy’s expression softens.

“Have you been worrying about this?”

Annabeth’s first impulse is to brush it off and change the subject. But then she hears Silena’s voice in her head: tell him how you feel. So she ducks her chin and forces the words out.

“Well yeah, I mean it kinda freaks me out that I just have this power over you. I don’t trust myself.”

Percy tilts her chin with featherlight fingers and an unadulterated fondness her seven year old self would kill to be on the receiving end of.

“I trust you enough for the both of us,” he said.

“How are you so sure about this?” ‘How are you so sure about me?’

He gives her a ‘duh’ look that she’s so used to giving him, it's a bit shocking to be on the opposite end of it. She decides immediately she doesn’t like it.

“You know why.”

“No, I don’t, hence me asking you why.”

She's watched Percy's face morph to pure amusement. He chuckles, and hesitates. “Well, because...”

He trails off clearly thinking about how to word his answer. As he thinks it over she allows herself to look at him properly.

He’s beautiful. Sharp jawline, defined cheekbones, devastatingly symmetrical features. His eyes are deep and content, looking out at the sea as if it has the answer he’s looking for. He can’t seem to find what he wants amongst the waves, but his eyes meet hers and the words seem to come to him.

“It’s you, Annabeth.”

He says it like it answers not only her question but thousands of others. It does neither.

“What’s me, Annabeth?” She attempts at light-hearted sarcasm despite her impatience.

He looks at her with a glint of mischief in his eyes and she knows that look. She hates that look. That look means she’s not getting an answer anytime soon.  

“Oh my gods, you really don't know?”

She glares daggers.

He smiles winningly. “Oh, this is going to be fun.” She bites at his shoulder in retaliation.

“You’re the smartest person I know-” Percy starts.

“True, but flattery will get you nowhere-” Annabeth cut him off.

“So figure-’ He presses a kiss to her temple.

“It-’ A kiss to her left cheek.

“Out.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but he kisses her before she can get out the words. And His knuckles are gentle under her chin, and he smells like ocean breeze, and his lips are chapped yet achingly soft, and he tastes like home. Annabeth resigns herself to find out what he means later, and allows herself to get lost in him and saltwater and home.

...

She digs up every legend about the curse of Achilles she can find. She scours Daedales’s laptop until it runs out of battery. She didn’t even know that was possible.

She researches.

And researches.

And nothing.

She has no idea what he means. Annabeth famously hates not knowing.

And. Percy. Won’t. Budge.

She has tried every trick in the book. She tried baking blue cookies (she burned them), refusing to kiss him till he tells (she caves), and asking Grover to get it out of him (something about the bro-code).

Everytime she asks him he just looks at her with his dopey, baby-seal love eyes and says those same two words.

“It’s you.”

She hates him.

...

It’s three more days before she figures it out.

Nico is looking at her skeptically. His all black get-up makes it so he almost blends in with shadows of the Big House’s basement.

“You need my help?” He deadpans, leaning against the wall looking almost bored.

“Sort-of,” Annabeth shifts on her feet,  “So, I know you were the one who took Percy to the River Styx, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Well he’s explained to me bits and pieces about how the curse works, and told me where his… you know… spot is.”

“Ok.”

“So my question is-” Annabeth stopped short. “Wait doesn’t that surprise you at all?”

He shrugs noncommittally, “Not really, no. You were saying?”

Annabeth clears her throat and soldiers on.

“Uh yeah. Right, well it sorta freaked me out how readily he told me about it and I asked how he knew I could handle it and he just said ‘it’s me’. And he refuses to elaborate, and it’s kind of killing me so, do you know what that means? And if you do, could you please explain?”

She’s been staring at her shoes while she rambles on and when she looks up she sees…

Is that humor in his eyes?  

“So, I'm guessing you've done your research on the curse?” She nods. “So you know that when Achilles mother dipped him in the Styx, she held him up by his ankle, which then became his mortal point.”

“Like a sort of anchor.”

“Exactly. Now what the legends don’t mention is that the mortal point wasn’t just the ankle. When his mother pulled him out she became part of his mortal point. Still with me?”

“Not really.”

“Perfect. Going in on your own is no different. You still need someone to help you out of the river, just not physically. You need to picture someone pulling you out, someone to motivate you, someone to bring you back to earth.”

He looks up at her, silently asking permission to continue. Annabeth nods with urgence.  

“It's not just someone who can keep you mortal, but the one person that makes you want to stay mortal. That person and your weak spot become intertwined.” He looks up at her and must still see traces of confusion.

“Your mortal point isn’t just the point of your body that’s unaffected by the River Styx, It’s the person in your life that you saw that gave you the strength to survive the Styx at all.”

Oh.

Oh.

“So when he says ‘it’s...He literally means…” She trails off and looks up at Nico. His smirk is patronizing, but she can’t bring herself to care.

“It’s you.”

…

She vaguely recalls thanking Nico for his help, but how she ended up in her bunk staring at the wall is a mystery. Annabeth has never truly understood the word dumbfounded until now.

...

It’s her.

...

By the time she comes to, it's dark out. Annabeth is already grabbing her invisibility cap and pulling on her shoes. She should probably change out of her pajamas, but her urgency to get to Percy outweighs the little vanity she has left in her. Percy has seen her in far worse conditions than messy hair and sleep wear.

Normally she would climb in through his window, but tonight is strictly business. Percy is still up waiting for her like he has been every night since the war ended. His face brightens when his eyes land on her face then immediately scrunch in concern when he sees what must be a manic look in her eye.

“You ok?”

“It’s me.” A whisper- she says it like she can't fully comprehend the words.

“It’s me?” A question- not necessarily for him just unsure.

“It’s me!” An accusation- this time it’s directed at Percy, who smiles with unnecessary pride.

He tugs at her hand and pulls her to sit on the bunk.“You figured it out.”

She’s briefly tempted to explain the whole visit with Nico, but she has other things on her mind.

“That’s how I knew on the bridge. That feeling that you were in danger, even though you hadn’t told me where the spot was, I knew.”

He shrugs, “It would make sense, but to be honest, I actually have no idea.”

She entwines their fingers and he lifts her hand up to press kisses to her knuckles.

“You saved me.” Percy says it soft and reverent, like a prayer.

“On the bridge?”

“No. Well yeah you saved me on the bridge, but I’m talking about the Styx. It was the worst pain I’ve ever felt. I was burning alive. It was like I was back at Mt. St. Helen’s all over again.”

She feels a swift wave of guilt that she quickly pushes down so she can pay attention to the rest of his words.

“Except instead of the lava being thrown at me, I was dunked in it. And it was ten times hotter. I was drowning.” He laughs mirthlessly, and she squeezes his hand. “I was in so much pain I couldn't remember who I was.”

She knocks her forehead against his, partly to bring him back to reality, partly to remind herself that he did in fact survive to tell her this story.

He looks up at her, green eyes wide with a wonder and reverence she doesn’t believe she deserves.

“Then I heard you. Your voice. I heard your voice and I saw your face and you held out your hand. You didn’t just pull me back. You put me back together. The thought of you put me back together. I took your hand and I survived because of you. You saved me Annabeth.”

Annabeth is stunned into silence.

She has no doubt in her mind that if it were her in the Styx, she would've seen Percy and he would’ve saved her in the same way she saved him. But, it's different hearing it from him. It’s a rare feeling to know that this full-bodied, utter devotion (the kind she feels for him), is mutual. To hear it spoken out loud is almost unheard of.

She doesn’t have the words to articulate the supernova of emotions exploding her chest, so she kisses him. She kisses him with everything she has. Percy kisses her back with the same intensity. Percy’s kisses are safety and contentment and light. He’s so good with words (better with them than she is), and she thinks it translated into the way he kissed. He kisses her like he’s trying to say something--typically some shy declaration of the love that they both know is between them but tiptoe around speaking into existence.

He kisses with his whole body. He clutches at her waist like he couldn’t bear to let go, and she arches her back because she doesn't think she could bear it either. He occupies all five of her senses, the only thing she knows is him. Her hands are buried in his hair. He’s the sun, and kissing him is sunshine personified.

When she finally pulls back, he removes one of the hands gripping at her waist to slip into the junction between her collarbone and her jaw to keep their foreheads together. He keeps pulling her in his orbit, freckles like constellations, breaths mingled like they could survive on kisses and shared oxygen alone.

She thinks she’d like that.

Percy ends up curled on top of her, his head resting in the crook of her neck. One of her hands in his hair, the other on the small of his back like she can protect him with force of will alone.  They fall asleep the way they survive- anchored to each other.

...

[demigodsanswer]

Things I would change about HoO, a list that no one asked for: 

(disclaimer: this probably isn’t a full list, because I haven’t reread HoH or BoO in years)

Get rid of the racism. 

Get rid of the Frazel age gap. 

This goes along with the above one, but I would make Hazel 16. This would keep her the same age as the rest of the crew (who are all 15/16), and it would mean that Nico once again had an older sister. The Bianca parallels are ripe for tragedy (which is why I think RR avoided it). 

Slow down the romance. Frank and Hazel don’t need to be together. Jason and Piper shouldn’t be together straight out of the Lost Hero. Their relationship should build organically throughout the books, finally resulting in them getting together towards the end of Blood of Olympus.

No Calypso subplot. That was bad. Have Leo accept that he does not need a relationship in order to feel whole.  

Nico’s forced outing is recognized as a moment of trauma. I have no issue with there being problematic elements in narratives, if they are recognized as such (see: the forced prostitution in The Hunger Games). There should be time and care to acknowledge that Nico had just experienced something traumatic at the hands of a god. Rather than just have this moment there to count towards diversity points, it could have furthered Nico’s arc in the books, as well as contribute to further conflict with the gods, the seven, and specifically between Percy and Nico (more on that in a minute). 

Four of them should have died because of the “only 3 to a quest” rule. 

When Percy and Annabeth make it to the Doors of Death, they are alone (no Bob, because that was bad and dumb), and they need to decide what to do. They ultimately decide that they aren’t going anywhere without each other, no matter how much one wants to save the other. They close the doors together, and stay in Tartarus. 

Once they close the doors, Hazel begins to fade, as her soul is forced back to the Underworld. This is where House of Hades ends. 

Now, the remaining four (Leo, Piper, Jason, and Frank), have to decide what to do. This would also allow for the “going back to original POVs” thing that Rick apparently wanted with BoO. 

Returning the Parthenos should be the first half of Blood of Olympus, rather than their miracle cure quest. The four of them should have to bring it back to Camp Half Blood (just cut out the Reyna and Nico bit entirely). The second half of the book should be the battle. This also gets rid of the incredibly dumb “all the hunters are killed” plot point (seriously, what the fuck was that?)

The main problem is that they don’t know if Percy and Annabeth are alive or how long they will stay alive. This means, they don’t know if they should expect one more of them to die, or three more of them to die. There’s a real sense of suspense and dread over who is going to survive this. 

Nico is sent to try and get Percy and Annabeth out of Tartarus. This is how he ends up almost fading from Shadow Travel and Underworld magic. This fading is complicated by the fact that it’s literally how he just saw Hazel die. It is also further complicated by the fact that he is going to save Percy, the boy he has just been forced to admit feelings for and who has, once again, kind of caused the dead of Nico’s older sister. 

Nico saves Percy and Annabeth, they show up in time for the final battle, and the six rejoice, thinking that the quest is over and they all survived. Percy and Annabeth can barely be a part of the battle though, because they are nearly dead from Tartarus, as is Nico. 

Except, it’s never that easy. 

Jason goes down first, assassinated by Octavian (paralleling how Gwen almost died in Son of Neptune, and mirroring how he was actually killed in TOA, only now he dies in the series he belongs to.) Piper then kills Octavian with charmspeak, showing its full power. She asks his heart to stop beating, and it does. It’s the exact opposite of when she brought Jason back in The Lost Hero. 

In a moment of final solidarity, despite their previous antagonistic relationship, Leo and Frank come up with a plan to deliver the final blow to Gaia. Frank turns into a Dragon, and he and Leo fly up to Gaia, essentially engulfing her in fire as the raise her off the ground to destroy her. The fire ends up brining the rest of Frank’s stick (tie that plot point up), and Leo is exploded and stays dead this time. 

The war is ended, but cue some mad survivors guilt for Percy, Piper, and Annabeth. 

[bipercabeth]

“Something’s wrong, I can tell” for percabeth 💖🔪

(in which we ignore the fact that hoo exists)

Annabeth’s alarm clock blinks 5:00 PM on her bedside table, the bright red casting a glow over her dark dorm room. Her blinds are drawn back, but uselessly so. The sun hides behind rain clouds that drown the city in their gloom. And so the turn of spring is more limp than victory march, or maybe it just walks to a cadence Annabeth can’t hear. The moment her feet hit the floor this morning, it felt like she was stepping out of time. 

The darkness presses in heavily on Annabeth, like maybe it’s her fault the sun rose wrong today. The girl with a plan for everything can’t even rouse herself out of bed. Afternoon collapses into early evening, and the weight of the lost day pins Annabeth below her comforter. Alone in a twin bed, the way it way built to be. Even after nearly a decade of sleeping in a cabin with all her siblings, that’s all Annabeth has ever really been: alone, the way she was built to be. 

Sneakers scuff the carpeted hallway, stopping when they reach Annabeth’s door. A key scrapes the lock without a knock, which is how she knows it’s Percy on the other side. 

Light from the hallway follows him in, and both of them blink as their eyes adjust. Annabeth is blind for a moment, able only to focus on Percy’s silhouette. Even in the lowlight, she can see the way concern softens his brow and stiffens his hands. 

“Baby...” he says, a nickname that has become a common occurrence in their seven months of dating. This is the first time it has failed to warm Annabeth’s chest. “What’s wrong?” 

Annabeth tries—she really does—to sit up and wipe the tear tracks from her cheeks, but her nose is snotty and half her hair falls out of its scrunchie from being upright for the first time all day. Her voice cracks when she says, “M’fine.” 

Percy just crosses the room and turns on her desk lamp, giving the place a soft yellow glow. He looks like the sun sweeping away the shadows of a dim day. With gentle hands, he undoes Annabeth’s scrunchie and coaxes her curls into a bun that will hold in the wake of her wallowing. Annabeth leans her head back into his stomach to look at him upside down, at which point he holds her cheeks and breaks her with a gentle, “Something’s wrong, I can tell.” 

She just gapes at him uselessly, because isn’t the lack of words the very core of this pain? All the power of Athena’s wisdom, Daedalus’s laptop, and Annabeth’s own mind, and she cannot string together a sentence about Luke Castellan that rings true. 

He was a hero. Naive. 

He was a monster. Calloused. 

He loved me. 

Well, aside from that, which is the only thing she knows to be true. 

Percy senses the tectonic shift within Annabeth and holds her tight, laying her back on the mattress and tucking himself in behind her. His arms wrap around her like he can prevent the earthquake, but all that tension can only do one thing: snap. 

Luke loved her. It’s the one thing she knows. None of it makes sense if he never loved her. She has to make it make sense. 

Most days her brain buries the ache. Annabeth is a runner; she is good at lacing up her shoes and hitting the road, but her feet cannot carry her far enough. She is the house she’s running away from. Luke’s influence is a painful design that fuels self-hatred and frustration, but the bones were good. At its core, the house was built with love, the kind you want to share with family. Before her fearlessness and fire were her own, they were his. Luke was the first person to put a weapon in her hand, and Annabeth is nothing if not a warrior. He made her to be the exact thing she needed to be to survive him.

Seven months after his death, and sometimes a day goes by where Annabeth doesn’t think about it. Some days are too full of Percy’s sunshine smile for the sky to dream of dimming. Other days—ones she keeps to herself—the thought of Luke shines in the rose-tinted lens of nostalgia. And then there are days like today where she is rendered immobile by the mere memory of him.

Closure is a sick and twisted joke. Luke’s love for Annabeth saved his soul and the world, just the way she wanted. All the pain and suffering of the past four years was worth it. She was right to believe in him. So why does the burden still burn into her shoulders? 

Percy presses his lips to the back of Annabeth’s neck, drawing her back to the present. His arm rests underneath her neck and wraps around her shoulders while the other falls over and around her torso, linking their fingers over her heart. He’s grown considerably since the summer, a fact that bothers Annabeth until moments like this where the width of his shoulders eclipses her own. It almost fools her into thinking he can protect her from this. 

“Easy.” His voice is low, whispered into her neck. “You’re okay. Just breathe with me, alright? I’ve got you.” 

Each swell of Percy’s chest coaches Annabeth through her own. Inhale. Hold. Feel his hands squeeze each second. Exhale. Listen to him whisper affirmations like prayers into her skin. Repeat. 

It takes a while, but Annabeth’s heart slows.

Percy’s voice resonates again her back. “What happened?”

This, she thinks, is the hardest part. Annabeth doesn’t have an empathy link like Percy and Grover, nor does she have someone with shared experience to speak to. In her struggle with Luke, she is truly alone.

“It’s not fair,” she manages, breath hitching.

“What isn’t?”

“That he—“ A stray tear leaks onto her pillow. Percy’s lips linger on her shoulder, patient and steady and everything Luke couldn’t be. Annabeth sobs, a mortifying sound, and she’s glad Percy can’t see her face as she presses it into her cold pillowcase. The stain of fallen tears waits for her, inviting her back into old pain. “That he loved me. It’s not fair that he loved me.”

Though he tries to hide it, Percy’s body goes rigid. They have fought about this on Annabeth’s rose-tinted days or whenever someone brings up Luke’s legacy, be it as hero, pawn, or monster. Part of Percy will always be the twelve year old boy who was betrayed by Luke, and part of Annabeth will always be the seven year old girl who found a family with him.

“Love isn’t always enough,” Percy says, and she can hear the tension in his jaw. Bless him though, he tries for her. “It’s not your fault he couldn’t do a single damn thing about it.”

He pulls her into his chest and lays his head on her shoulder, keeping her from falling off the bed while her body shakes. She withers at the realization that she can’t offer him anything in return, not even a promise that she’ll take his words to heart.

Luke did something about it: he died. He became the hero Annabeth saw in him after years of struggling, and then he left her again.

But he kept his promise. 

Annabeth’s chest aches as it always does when she thinks about Luke, it just runs a bit deeper today. It was in his nature to cut to the bone. 

“I just don’t want to feel like this anymore.” She sounds every bit the small, bitter runaway. 

The cold of the pillow is replaced by Percy wiping away her tears and dabbing at her nose with the sleeve of his hoodie. “What can I do? Tell me how to help.” 

“Just stay with me.” She leans into his palm, kisses his wrist. “Hold me a little longer.” 

“As long as you need,” Percy promises, dropping kisses along the line of her neck, her jaw, her cheek. “But I need you to look at me.” 

They untangle their limbs for Annabeth to flop onto Percy’s chest. His arms wrap back around her, this time firm around her waist while his free hand slides to her neck, his thumb under her jaw to hold her gaze. His eyes blaze with the fierce love she is still learning to accept, the one that burns to protect. 

“I love you so much,” he says, his voice aching as though it almost hurts. “And if I could take this away, I would. You don’t deserve it. I know we don’t... That he...” Percy frowns, then tightens his grip on her. “I know I don’t get it. I know. But I’m still here, you know? I don’t want you to be alone. Ever.” 

The gears in Annabeth’s brain take a moment process, and her response comes out in a breathless, “I love you.” The phrase is warm, as it always is, like the sun shining through the rain on her window. Loving Percy turns the light on in every room she enters. The rest of her words fall short, though they’re honest. “I don’t know what to say.” 

Percy’s thumb swipes across her cheek. “Me neither. We’ll figure it out together, yeah?” 

She throws herself into the crook of his neck, knocking the air from his lungs. He just softens and holds the back of her head while tracing circles on her hoodie—steady, sweet, supporting. He holds her tight and kisses her temple with the same tenderness she presses into his collarbone: a small attempt at reciprocity, but a meaningful one nonetheless. They’re trying, which is all they can do. 

[chironshorseass]

part 1 read on ao3

“So you’re telling me that you haven’t Iris Messaged Annabeth in a month?”

“She was with her cousin, Ma.”

His mother stopped the car right next to Goode—the high school he would (hopefully) be attending in August.

She turned to look at him, that motherly stern look that always came up when she knew he wasn’t telling her everything.

“What?”

She shrugged. “Whatever you say. But physically, you haven’t seen her since last January! I’m just worried that—”

“We emailed each other, though—”

“Yes, but it’s not the same.” At Percy’s roll of the eyes, she held her hands up in surrender. “All I’m saying is to…see if there’s anything wrong. I have a feeling she didn’t want to IM you for some other reason. And I know you, Perce. You have the same feeling as I do.”

He did, but that wasn’t the point. So he kissed his mom on the cheek and stepped out of the car.

“Good luck on your date! And with, um, school!”

He threw her a thumbs up and shouldered his backpack.

Too bad that luck wasn’t on his side that day.

She saw him before he saw her.

He’s grown, was the first thing that came to Annabeth’s mind.

His clothing peppered in burn holes, the smoke wafting further back, and the pretty girl chasing him was registered later.

She saw him before he saw her, and so Percy bumped into her in the alleyway. Her hands went to his shoulders, steadying him.

“Whoah!” she said, laughing. “Watch where you’re going, Seaweed Brain!”

Maybe he thought he’d be late for our date. That’s why he’s in such a hurry.

It didn’t matter. Because he was here, and he was just a bit taller than her—his hair was longer than she remembered, but his green eyes were the same, beautiful color, and...

Then she caught his panicked look. Then she caught the girl behind him and the smoke and his burnt clothing.

“What happened?”

Before he could reply, the redhead called out, “Percy! Wait up!”

Her flip-flops echoed across the relatively quiet street, interrupting Annabeth’s thought process.

“And who‘s she?”

Percy turned to the other girl and waited until she arrived next to them. He glanced at Annabeth, wincing. “It’s uh…it’s a long story.”

“You promised to explain,” the girl insisted, breathless. “About the monsters and the gods and everything.”

“Wait,” Annabeth said. “She’s a demigod?”

“No.”

At the same time, the girl tilted her head and said, “So you’re one of them, too, huh?”

Annabeth felt her mouth fall open in disbelief. She met Percy’s eyes. “You told some mortal about us?”

“My name’s Rachel.”

And my name’s I-don’t-give-a-fuck.

“She can see through the mist,” is all he said.

She shook her head. Out of everything that could happen today…and this was what Fate had decided on.

“Come on.” She tugged on Percy’s arm. “We’re leaving before whatever attacked you comes back.”

He followed her, but not without gazing back at Rachel as though he wanted to stay with her. As though it were easier than being with Annabeth. There was something bubbling in her stomach at that, something that boiled her insides.

“Wait!” Rachel shouted. “You promised to explain!”

She sprinted toward them and took out a sharpie marker she’d sprung out from thin air. Annabeth rolled her eyes. Rachel grasped Percy’s arm and began writing something that looked like numbers.

She wasn’t rolling her eyes anymore.

“My phone number,” Rachel explained. Then she winked at him. “Whenever you can, call me.”

.

“What was all that about?” Annabeth said. She’d already stormed ahead, taking the lead.

He tried to explain. He’d gone to Goode’s orientation tour, just like she knew he would. There, he’d been attacked by empousa cheerleaders, and thanks to Rachel’s Sight, he’d survived.

“I’d be dead if it weren’t for her,” he said, eyeing his marked arm. “I have to repay her in some way.”

“So now you have her phone number,” she said lightly.

“Uh…yeah.”

“She’s really cute.”

Percy stopped in his tracks. She stopped as well and looked back, realizing that he was staring at her exasperatedly.

“Aw, come on, Annabeth. You and I are literally dating, and I just saw her today—well, except for last year—”

“You’ve met her before?”

He scratched his head, shifting from one foot to the other. “I, uh…yeah. Last year at Hoover Dam.”

Right. When he was looking for me.

She kept walking again.

“Are you seriously upset because of her?” He tried to grab her hand, but she pulled away. “‘Beth, I never—”

“Anyway, I don’t think we can go on our date anymore.” Her tone was scathing, like sharp, twisted knives. But she didn’t care. The gods hated her, apparently, because she and Percy could never be a normal teenage couple.

“Oh, so now you can get all angry with me when we couldn’t even call properly because of your cousin? Not even a single call?”

“That empousai said that the camp would go up in flames, we need to—”

“Don’t change the subject.” He ran up to her and placed a hand on her shoulder, making her halt. The few baby fat he’d still preserved back in winter was gone, replaced with the hints of someone older; with a harshness akin to his father, the Sea God. “How much time did you actually spend with your cousin? Honestly. He couldn’t have been with you all the time, and I tried to be nice and understanding, but did you really—”

“If what that empousa warned you about is true, then we need to head to camp. Right now.”

She left before he could talk about anything else involving her pathetic lies. Left before he could see her blinking back tears. She ran directly into Argus’ van, and once Percy had closed the door, she told the bodyguard to drive directly to camp. No detours.

They didn’t talk on the way there. She stared out the window, watching the passing farms and the cotton sky.

Her first meeting with Percy after months apart and it couldn’t have gone better.

.

The thing is: Annabeth had changed her mind about camp. In her plans, she’d stay in San Francisco for longer than usual, just to be as far away from Camp Half-Blood as possible. Then, she’d go to New York City, and her and Percy would be taken to camp by Argus.

But plans changed.

Her mother had come, weeks before Annabeth would leave as initially intended. For some strange reason, she’d knocked on her door like Luke all those months ago.

A spluttering Frederick had answered this time. Annabeth trailed behind him, cautious for anything.

Cautious for anything didn’t mean she’d thought Athena would ever consider stopping by.

“Mom?” she’d said, eyes wide.

After greetings were made, Athena had insisted she go to camp immediately. “They are counting on you to be there, Annabeth. You must go. Before it’s too late.”

Annabeth recalled what she’d told Luke:

“People are counting on you—on me”

But hearing it from her mother, seeing her so insistent—enough so that she’d come, personally, to her porch steps—made Annabeth reconsider.

Anyway, this was Athena. Her mother. Who was she to displease her?

So she buried all her worries about Luke and Percy and followed her; in the blink of an eye, she’d arrived at camp, Athena nowhere to be seen. Annabeth hadn’t even had the chance to ask her about why she’d decided to help, out of the blue.

But Athena was right; camp needed her. Apparently, Clarisse’s top-secret quest from last winter had to do with venturing into the Labyrinth. She and Chiron had rescued Chris Rodriguez, an ex-camper who was scouting it in the hopes of finding an entrance to camp for Luke’s army. He’d fallen victim to madness in those dark, underground walls. No one knew why—only that he needed help.

Not only that, but throughout those few weeks, she’d felt as if her mother’s face was implanted in her mind like a brand; she swore she saw those grey eyes everywhere. While she got familiar with Quintus and Mrs. O’Leary. While planning with Clarisse and Chiron. While hanging out with Silena. While scouring the forest with Grover and his new girlfriend, Juniper—searching for an entrance to the Labyrinth.

It got to the point where she lit a match and watched as dozens of olives burst into flames, in the hopes that Athena would respond.

“What do you want from me?”

“Please answer.”

“What do you know that we don’t?”

Everything.

That’s what she’d say, probably. But Annabeth would never know, because Athena never answered. She nearly burned down cabin seven because of this. In her frustration, she scooped up the remaining olives, stomped across camp, and threw them into the sea.

“Thanks for everything,” she muttered, watching the waves greedily drag the olives away.

She didn’t feel eyes burning into her neck after that, but coming back with Percy restarted the process all over again.

An owl was perched on Thalia’s tree. She ignored it, only for it to come back while her and Percy both sat to hear what the Council of Cloven Elders had to say about Grover’s search for Pan.

.

“Mom. What do you want?”

“Lovely way of greeting your visiting mother, I see.”

Annabeth sighed.

After reasurances to Grover that, ‘Everything will be alright. Don’t worry. I know you’ll find Pan before the Council’s deadline,’ she’d taken to the trees. To where that grey owl was perched.

The owl disappeared, however. Replaced by the goddess of wisdom. So now both mother and daughter stood, a few feet apart, while everyone else gathered on the other side. No one noticed the secret meeting.

“You prayed to me,” Athena said. “Of course I would answer. Even if you did throw the offerings away.”

To where Annabeth threw them away was left unsaid; Athena knew. She knew, and she’d likely come because of it.

Annabeth shrugged.

“You’re angry with me,” Athena observed. “Anger must be controlled, or else unwise decisions happen. Like throwing a prized possession into the sea.”

“Well, Mother,” Annabeth said, jaw tense. “You haven’t exactly been clear about why you’re following me around. Or about why you wanted me to go to camp early in the first place.”

Athena was rarely quick to anger. She calculated everything, patient and firm, just like now.

“Knowing the intentions of the divine can either be a blessing or a curse.”

“But you’re about to tell me something. About to answer me. Am I cursed, then?”

Athena cocked her head, considering.

“No,” she finally said.

There was a glint in her eyes, something that told Annabeth that she was holding back.

“Well, then...I am asking again: why are you here?”

“Because I foresee that you shall lead a quest.”

A pause. Her comment was precise, abrupt as a frigid wind. Annabeth felt herself gaping like a fish. Quickly, she clamped her mouth shut. That was all she wanted, wasn’t it? To lead a quest? But then why did she feel such a profound sense of dread?

“I came to warn you. It won’t be easy.”

She restrained the urge to roll her eyes. “Quests aren’t meant to be easy.”

“Never stray from the plan,” Athena said, ignoring her comment. Her eyes were grey as granite, face hard as marble. “I know that you can…manage your hubris, but this time, it’ll be the ultimate trial for what you can or can’t do. If you can yield or not. You and Perseus both. Hubris can be controlled, but if control itself is the problem...that is very dire, indeed.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I may have made a mistake in assuming Perseus’ fatal flaw. Maybe not. In any case...you must be careful.”

“You assumed what his fatal flaw is?”

Athena regarded her carefully, like one does when studying an ancient scroll. “You can ask him about it. Since you two are...close.”

She said close as if it was a foregin word on her tongue, something she wanted to get rid of.

Of course she knew.

“About that, I don’t care what you—”

“I give you the benefit of the doubt,” Athena said, an eyebrow raised. “My children are known to make wise, rational decisions. I can only hope that you won’t become an exception to that rule. I do not approve, but it is your life. Your choice.”

Annabeth’s mouth felt like sand. Choices. She’d begun to hate them, now.

“What’s Percy’s fatal flaw?”

“Even to me, it’s uncertain.”

“But you have some idea.”

“As do you, my daughter.”

“I thought knowledge is power.”

“Yes. Knowledge is power. But how do you know that the knowledge you possess is true? How do you know if it’s not? Fate, however, is already decided; all we can do is prepare for the worst.”

“What’s going to happen, then?” Annabeth felt like she was barely able to grasp for something to hold on to, waiting— begging —for the ground to steady itself. “What will happen to Luke? What’s my role in all of this?”

Athena only shook her head. “Knowing something and having the wits to use it are two separate things.” Then she turned around, her time at camp over as well as her vague and unreliable warnings. “I must go. Good luck, Annabeth, on your quest.”

“A quest no one has even mentioned —”

“And watch for Percy Jackson.”

She vanished into the canopy, morphing into that same, grey owl. A single feather fell from the sky and settled quietly into the ground next to Annabeth’s sneakers. It mocked her, that feather. She kicked it away, then thought better of it and rubbed it into the dirt with her heel, destroying every single trace.

Your choice.

.

Neither her nor Percy mentioned their earlier fight. It became a discarded page, ripped off and torn into pieces like an old math textbook. It gave her space to breathe, to start over. A part of her knew that it wasn’t right, and that eventually, they’d have to talk about it—but that was eventually. This was now.

During the “now,” she filled Percy in on the Labyrinth.

(The Labyrinth will be the quest your mom mentioned. It can’t be about anything else)

He listened to everything she had to say and stayed even while Clarisse was there, too.

(Probably because they’re friends. They just hate to admit it.)

They ignored the catcalls and the teasing. She expected it, anyway.

(“So the rumors are true,” Malcolm said, wiggling his eyebrows and making her roll her eyes. “You and Percy are a thing, now.”

“Uh…yeah.”

“And you never thought to tell me? Like, I’m not surprised or anything, but—hey! Don’t hit me! Okay, fine, everyone knew since you two held hands and made gooey eyes at each other and stuff last January—stop hitting me!”)

Later, her and Percy sat together by the warmth of the campfire, roasting s’mores. She enjoyed laying her head on his shoulder and kissing his cheek. She laughed at his horrible singing and held his hand later that night, swinging their arms up and down as they walked toward cabin three.

Joking around and taking comfort in the sound of the crickets, Annabeth understood what it was like to love someone. It was a different kind of love than that of Luke. She watched him smile wide, watched the way his eyes crinkled as she rolled her eyes about Clarisse and Silena. That’s when it crossed her mind: their friendship hadn’t changed. Not really.

Even though they hadn’t seen each other for six months or so, and even though their newest step to their relationship had started weeks before that, their esense stayed the same. He was still Percy and she was still Annabeth. And that would never change.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Percy said, squeezing her hand.

“Oh, um. Just...thinking.”

“Well duh.”

“Shut up.”

He grinned at her, even as she shoved him off.

“No but seriously,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

She sighed. Her meeting with Athena had slipped into her mind like passing sticky notes and secret messages. “I want to talk about fatal flaws.”

She felt his hand tense. “What about them?”

“Just, I dunno, like...do you know yours?”

He was looking straight ahead when he said, “Your, uh, mom told me. Is personal loyalty even considered a flaw?”

“That’s what she said? That your fatal flaw is personal loyalty?”

He shrugged. “Guess so.”

So it’s true. She thinks she’s wrong.

“I mean, personal loyalty is considered a flaw, but...do you think it could be something else? Maybe?”

They locked eyes. The faraway hearth lit up his face, sharpening his features.

“Do you think it’s something else?”

“I don’t know.”

Another lie. Or was it? Could personal loyalty be his fatal flaw or could it be something else? Was Athena right? Was she wrong?

Percy raised his eyebrows. “You know something. You have that planning face look.”

“I don’t have a—”

“Uh, yeah you do. But whatever. It’s not like you know what my fatal flaw is.”

“I’m...yeah. I was just wondering since, well, I know about mine. And we’re so close to the Great Prophecy, and if you don’t know by now what your fatal flaw is, well—”

“It’s good that I know, then,” he cut in. “Good that I know my fatal flaw by now.” His eyes flicked to her. “Right?”

“Yeah. Right. Good.”

Nothing else was said after that. He stopped by the porch steps of cabin three and kissed her forehead. She closed her eyes, comforted like she had throughout the singalong. Comforted by Percy.

Until he closed his door and left her in the dark.

.

The next day, Quintus’ strange game involving scorpions and ribbons began with her being paired up with Percy. It was just their luck that they’d stumbled into the Labyrinth, of all places .

“So we’re stuck here.”

“Yep,” Percy confirmed.

“You’re not helping.”

“I’m only here for moral support. You’re the brains of the relationship.”

“Am not,” she grumbled. “You’re smart; stop pretending you aren’t.”

It was no use, anyway. She couldn’t find the mark of Daedalus in the darkness. They took a break from searching and calling for help to sit down, bunching up against a wall and leaning against the other.

“I never apologized.”

Percy’s voice in the hollow chambers nearly made her jump. She lifted her chin and tucked it into his collarbone.

“For what?” she said.

“The Rachel thing.”

“To be fair, I’d nearly forgotten.”

“Exactly. So I just…want to clear the air before it comes up again. And to say sorry for doubting you about your cousin.”

She shut her eyes tight. The truth was coming like undigested food; she was ready to spill it all out. But she swallowed the words instead—hating herself and loving this beautiful, selfless boy all at the same time. Round and round. Round and round it went.

“I’m sorry, too.”

“What are you sorry for? You were right to be angry with me. Like, all this time apart and suddenly a girl writes down her phone number on my arm , and then we can’t even have a normal date because I seem to mess that up, too.”

You’re perfect, she wanted to say. You’re perfect and I’m the one who messed everything up. Not you.

“We both reacted in stupid ways,” she said instead. “And anyway, I should’ve found the time to IM with you.”

He kissed the top of her head and mumbled into her hair, “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“Yeah. I know.”

He pulled away from her. She could feel his gaze but couldn’t see him clearly. “Something’s bothering you, Annabeth. What’s wrong? What’s actually wrong?”

She pursed her lips.

“What if…what if we don’t make it?”

Her voice came out barely above a whisper, but in the drifting silence, it sounded like ringing bells, there for everyone to hear.

( “What if you don’t make it?” She could never dare to say that out loud, however. )

She felt Percy lace his fingers through hers. “We’ll be together. That’s something I know for sure.”

They chose silence after that. Annabeth rested her head against his shoulder once more, listening to the constant creaking and shifting of the Labyrinth.

“Hey,” Percy murmured.

She glanced at him. “Hmm?”

Suddenly, she was aware of his hand resting on her arm, of his breath warm against her cheek. She froze, just for a second.

“Can I kiss you?”

Now that she thought about it, they’d never kissed properly—just a quick peck here and there. She nearly laughed at how nervous Percy sounded, at how this was just like last winter as they asked permission for a simple kiss like the awkward teenagers that they were.

She nodded. “Yeah.”

He tucked a stray curl behind her ear and leaned in. He didn’t need to look far, not even in the darkness; she was already inches apart, closing her eyes and feeling their breaths slip by.

When their lips met, she decided that surrender tasted sweet and pure, something she’d willingly do over and over again. He kissed her and nothing else mattered, not Time or the dark or choices.

He was the first to pull away.

“We’ve, um, we’ve been in here for too long,” he said. “Let’s keep trying to find a way out.”

It wasn’t long until they did.

.

By the time they’d managed to slip out of the Labyrinth, hours had passed. Night had fallen like autumn leaves, though she swore that they’d been in the maze for thirty minutes  at most.

By the time the campers and Chiron found them, she already knew that a quest would have to be made.

Just like her mother had promised, she was chosen to lead.

From what the oracle told her, she wished she could hide in her cabin and never come out. She wished that all of this was a dream and that absolutely nothing would happen—to anyone.

“The child of Athena’s final stand,” she’d said, repeating nearly all of her prophecy once Chiron asked her about it.

She paused and didn’t say the last line. The worst line. That line had cut to her bones. A rusted knife against her throat.

“And lose a love worse than death.”

She gazed at Percy. Innocent green eyes gazed right back at her, unwavering. What a terrible person she was, that she’d lead him to this fate because she couldn’t leave without him. How weak.

“Will you come?” she breathed.

He agreed without a second thought.

.

He found her in her cabin. They were alone, for once. And when he asked her what was wrong, when he looked at her like that, she couldn’t take it anymore. She surged to him, wrapping her arms around him tightly and secure, so he could never go away.

She breathed in his scent, feeling tears already trickling into his shirt.

“Hey, it’s—it’s okay. We’ll survive.”

“But what if we don’t?”

His hands drifted up to her back, steadying her.

She lifted her eyes, pulling away slightly, if only to see him clearly. A varying amount of emotions crossed his face. Concern, fear, love. Until he settled on concern and flicked away her stray tears with the pad of his thumb ever so gently. His eyebrows were pinched together.

“I just…” she said, looking away. “I just don’t want anything happening to yo—to any of you.”

“I’ll be here,” he said softly, cupping her cheek and moving it in his direction so that she could understand. “We’ll be okay.”

She wished she could believe that. Wished she could believe it with the same amount of heart that she poured into the kiss that followed. Her hands tugged at his hair, lips moving along with his like they never had before. They were warm and sure, his lips. But they could easily turn blue and cold, as easily as a flame could cease to exist. So she kissed him with everything she had so that his lips would stay warm like this, forever—passed her oxygen to him until there was nothing left to give.

.

Annabeth also chose Grover and Tyson to join her quest. With two more people, the quest team turned up as four instead of three; a feeling told her that she needed them all.

But three is a sacred number. Not four. This is why Zoë and Bianca passed on.

Three, not four.

And lose a love to worse than—

She strolled past the moving walls, the footfalls of the rest echoing behind her. Until she stopped. They were in a lavish room with a muraled painting of the gods, but that wasn’t the problem. The problem was the two doorways, the two paths.

“So?” Grover asked. “Which one do we uh…which one do we pick?”

Before she could answer, a man formed—or rather, a man with two faces. They stood in between the pathways, leering at her.

“Yes, Annabeth,” said one face.

“Which one do you pick?” said the other.

.

She kept mulling it over, what Hera had said. They’d encountered Janus, the god of doorways and beginnings and endings. And choices.

“Choose,” they’d said.

Instantly, images had painted themselves in her mind. In one, she was looking for Daedalus alongside Percy and Grover and Tyson. In the other, she was looking for Luke. “He can be saved,” her imaginary self muttered as she trudged through the Labyrinth alone, on the brink of madness. “If I save him, there will be no more death.”

But then more flashed through her mind. Choose one pathway, and she’d lose Percy, and soon after that, she’d lose Grover and Tyson. Choose the other, and she’d lose Luke instead.

“Choose.”

Everything had come to a pause when Hera arrived. She wanted to help them, apparently—only that that wasn’t true. Gods didn’t help. They only left you confused and disoriented, spinning around with no control.

She hadn’t helped, not that it surprised her.

None of them had any clue how to navigate the Labyrinth, only that supposedly Percy knew the answer. And also that they had to search for Hephaestus if they wanted to find Daedalus.

As a parting gift, she’d said, “I delayed Janus’ visit, but be careful, Annabeth. Your choice will come soon enough.”

“Let’s rest here,” Percy said, sensing her waning steps.

Despite her exhaustion, she insisted on taking first watch. She had to think. Pray. Slowly, everyone else fell into a slumber, but her mind was wide awake, gazing at Percy’s motionless form.

Prophecies had double meanings, didn’t they?

.

Her world was turned upside-down once she heard the explosion, once she went airborne for a few seconds only to hit her shoulder on a jagged rock. Immediately, she felt the sharp sting of pain. She clutched her shoulder, biting her lip. Her hand came back slick with blood.

“You chose this,” the two-faced god taunted her.

Then she heard a strangled scream. Percy’s scream. She inhaled sharply and scrambled to stand up, ignoring the scuttling spider that was getting farther and farther away and the stabbing pain traveling from her shoulder to the rest of her body.

“Percy!”

She ran in the direction from which she’d come from. Too late. Searing heat slapped her in the face before she understood what was happening. Another explosion came, and this time, she wasn’t so lucky.

Her body stumbled back, rocks caving in on her.

The sky. This is like the sky—

And everything went dark.

The darkness formed into a memory:

“No! I can’t leave you!”

“I’ve got a plan—promise!” he insisted. “You follow that metal spider to Hephaestus' lair, tell him about what’s going on.”

“But you’ll be killed!”

This was the choice; leave him or stay. Stay or leave.

“I’ll be fine,” he said. From the look in his eyes, Annabeth knew that she couldn’t convince him. He was decided. “Besides, we’ve got no choice.”

Yes, they did have a choice.

No.

Yes.

She kissed him instead. A quick kiss, a promise.

“Come back to me,” she said, fighting back tears. She pulled on her Yankees cap and left, then ran.

Her sobs escaped from her rib cage by then, finally free.

She woke to that memory and nothing else, head pounding like drums. The spider was long gone, and she stumbled around, drunk with grief. It was a miracle she found Hephaestus at all.

.

Hephaestus, thank the gods, understood her unintelligible blabbering. He took pity on her, perhaps, because he healed her physical wounds and dropped her off at camp. Never mind that Grover and Tyson were gone, on their own path looking for Pan. Never mind that Percy…

She broke down crying for the thousandth time that day when Chiron asked her what had happened. Why she’d staggered into camp all alone. Her heart, her entire being, spilled to the floor like water from an overfilled cup.

“Four went in and one came back. Only Annabeth came back,” the campers whispered among themselves. She saw their faces, saw their horror at realizing that Percy was likely dead, Grover and Tyson gone as well without much of a trace.

It drove her to hide. She stayed in bed for the next three days, not daring to close her eyes in the fear of what she may find there.

She thought that she’d run out of tears long ago, but they came anyway. She clamped her mouth shut so as not to alert any of her siblings who were asleep.

Your choice.

For the first time in the past two days, her eyes fluttered closed. She didn’t dream of anything at all.

.

Clarisse came barging into cabin seven the next morning.

“Come on, Princess,” she said, staring down at her. “You’ve gotta eat.”

Malcolm stood behind her, likely the one who had told Clarisse to come in the first place, since Annabeth hadn’t listened to any of her siblings about eating.

She tried to protest, to fight. But Clarisse was strong and had a purpose; Annabeth had nothing at all. So she sat in the dining pavilion, taking her time with her breakfast and ignoring everyone’s eyes on her.

Clarisse sat next to her, making sure she finished her food.

“Slowly, okay?” she said, then murmured, “Gods, when was the last time you ate something?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Annabeth snapped.

A few minutes passed in relative silence before Silena came to their table, offering solace.

“Hey, girlie,” she said. “How are you?”

Annabeth didn’t respond. Silena softly laid a hand on her shoulder, then decided better of it and pulled her in for a hug.

“You know it’s not your fault, right?” she said gently.

But it was.

Annabeth chose to leave him.

It took everything in her not to break down in Silena’s arms. Annabeth gave her a weak smile once she proposed to do something to pass the time. Like weaving, something she knew Annabeth enjoyed, being Athena’s daughter and all that.

So they did. Silena was good at it—good at making beautiful things. In the arts and crafts station, they spent most of the afternoon knitting and sewing as well, with Clarisse begrudgingly accompanying them.

She felt herself forget, her hands the only thing working. Not her mind. Not her subconscious or her guilt or her worry and fear.

It lasted only a moment. Because then she saw what she’d been working on for the past hour. Subconsciously, Annabeth had created a shroud. A beautiful one at that, with different hues of blue and green—just like his eyes. Just like the sea.

As if sensing her distress, the two girls looked up from what they were doing.

Clarisse said, “Is something wro—”

She didn’t need to say the rest, because Annabeth found her legs already moving, racing out the door.

“Let her,” she heard Silena say. “Give her space.”

She didn’t look back, sprinting to the one place where she knew Percy’s presence still thrived. Where she could be reminded that he would come back, just like he promised.

“I’ll be here.”

Cabin three didn’t look like much. Granted, she could barely focus on anything but her breathing—which was rapidly increasing its pace—but even so, she was reminded of how simple yet welcoming cabin three was in comparison to Zeus’.

It smelled like him. Like walking down the beach on a sunny day. Everything was as it always had been—clothes splayed haphazardly on the ground, bed unmade, stray papers adorning his nightstand.

She crumpled to her knees on the worn wooden planks. A great sob escaped her, and she covered her face with shaking hands

“He’s gone, Poseidon,” she cried. “He’s gone, and—and I’m so sorry.”

That night, she threw up everything she’d eaten.

.

“It is time,” Chiron said, his eyes dim with pity.

He preferred demigods dead, it seemed, than to try and look for them. She’d begged. Pleaded. Fallen to her knees until they bled. But it was no use; her teacher was convinced he was dead, and by the time the second week passed without Percy showing up, he was declared as such.

“He’s powerful,” Clarisse had told her. “I trust your instincts. He’s not dead. Can’t be, or else I’d have to beat him up.”

She helped Annabeth try to talk Chiron out of the funeral but to no avail.

And he wasn’t. Annabeth knew, in her heart, that Percy wasn’t dead. Barely anyone believed her, however. She didn’t blame them; no one knew about the last line of the prophecy for her quest.

But a pestering voice reminded her of something else: Percy was not, by any means, her only loved one. That voice sounded eerily like Janus.

What if it’s Luke?

He was nothing to her, now. She swore that he wasn’t.

What if Percy is dead?

That’s when Silena squeezed her shoulder, repeating what Chiron had told her the day prior.

“It’s time.”

Everyone who had gathered by the Amphitheatre waited for her to give out her statement, grim-faced. Chiron stood at the center of it all, the shroud she’d made at the arts and crafts cabin in his hands.

She hated that shroud with all her being, but she took it anyway once she stepped the last of the stairs. The fire next to her kissed her cheeks like the warmth of the sun. But inside, all she felt was cold. His body hadn’t been found…yet the shroud that she clutched in her hands would burn with Percy’s life.

“He…” Her eyes drifted to the shimmering cloth. How could she ever describe Percy Jackson? How could she ever put him into words? “He was kind,” she began. Her voice was unrecognizable, even to her. “He was probably the bravest friend I’ve ever had, and…”

And then she saw him, grinning like an idiot behind everyone else.

.

“Bravest friend you ever had?” was the first thing he said, after their bone-crushing hug.

She wiped her tears away and laughed. For the moment, she didn’t care that he hadn't answered her frantic questions.

“Where have you been?”

“What happened?”

He was here and he was alive. Her arms still clung to his neck; she wasn’t sure she’d ever manage to fully let go.

“You’re my friend above everything else, Seaweed Brain. And yeah, I guess you’re pretty brave.”

A question formed at the tip of her tongue—the one asking once more about what had happened in that explosion, where he’d been all this time; she knew that Percy could tell.

He was about to say something when Chiron interrupted them.

“My boy,” he said, mainly addressing Percy. “We need to talk.”

Percy’s demeanor changed like the shock of icy water to the face.

“Uh, yeah.” Something passed through his eyes; he glanced at her, then at their teacher. “I know how to navigate Labyrinth.”

.

Her relief became a ghost of the past once he explained himself. He told them the plan for the next part of the quest—for finding Grover and Tyson and finally Daedalus—but all she could hear was her ears ringing.  

“I was marooned on an island.”

“I uh…I stayed there for some time, healing from the explosion.”

She was almost certain about where he’d been. And then he’d mentioned his plan to find Rachel, the pretty redhead who wrote her phone number on his arm. Supposedly, she could help them.

“A clear-sighted mortal,” Chiron had said. “Clever, indeed.”

Only it wasn’t. It was her quest. Her choice. Not his.

Annabeth stood from her chair. The screeching noise made Percy wince. “I can’t believe you! You’re asking me to go to that mortal for help?”

Chiron’s eyes were soft when he said, “Annabeth, calm down—”

“No, I’m not calming down, because Percy here wants—”

“It’s the only way,” Percy said, hands wrung together.

“Ohh don’t tell me what’s ‘the only way’ and what isn’t when you could’ve easily come back sooner.”

Percy opened his mouth, but she talked over him.

“You think I’m stupid? You think I’m dumb?”

“No, ‘Beth, I—”

“You were with that goddess,” she said, her voice taking a hard edge. “Calypso, isn’t it? Was she nice company for you? Did you have a good time while I sat here, waiting for you, as my life spiraled out of control because one of the most important people in my life was gone?”

Percy stammered, “‘Beth, please…just—just let me explain.”

She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “You’re not denying it, either. That’s why you didn’t recount the entire story of your fun little vacation in a beautiful island with a beautiful goddess who was probably all over yo—”

He stood up then, leaning over the table, face inches apart from hers. “Don’t act so high and mighty with me when I know you lied to me about your cousin.”

“Percy, this isn’t even about—”

“No, no. You’re hearing me out. Okay? Hey, stop. Look me in the eyes. Nothing happened between us. Okay, nothing. She liked me, yes, but that is literally her curse! I knew you’d react that way because I’m realizing that you don’t fucking trust me!”

“What? Percy, I trust you with my life—”

“Then how come you never told me what was bothering you?”

“Because I don’t know what was bothering me!”

“Oh, that’s rich, coming from you! You know exactly what bothers you. But guess what? You won’t tell me! So like, don’t even dare accuse me of not revealing where I was when you do the exact same thing, ‘Beth!”

Annabeth felt like falling, but this time, she found no branch to hold onto and crashed to the ground, bleeding out and breathless.

Meanwhile, Percy kept talking, throwing javelins her way. “When you didn’t want to communicate via IM last semester, I agreed because I wanted to give you space to whatever the fuck was going on with you—and something is still going on, but you won’t tell me—and like, all that time while I was with her on that island, I wanted to go!

“I wanted to be with you! Shit, I don’t even know what I’d do without you, but I couldn’t fucking leave because that place is cursed! And when I did, it’s because she’d…she’d fallen in love with me! But I…but all I wanted was you!”

Silence fell over them with the remnants of Percy’s hard breathing. She blinked a few times, telling herself that she would not cry.

Chiron saved her before that could happen. “Now, children. Settle down. Percy. Give Annabeth some space to think about this.”

He obliged, much to her relief.

“This time, it’ll be the ultimate trial for what you can or can’t do. If you can yield or not.”

It all came down to that, to her mother’s words. She understood what they meant, now.

With just enough drachmas in her bag and a bluster assuring her that she would not fail, she grabbed Percy by the hand and crossed the camp border. Argus was waiting down below.

[angelsodreamy-no2]

Wow!!! Turns out other characters other than percy, annabeth, and leo have trauma!!! so lets discuss about that!!!

in no way i'm comparing traumas or saying that the three of them suffer less or smth okay, i just want more people to realise that the other characters have trauma AS WELL.

(will be mentioning almost everything based on the information i remember so sorry if i missed something other than being on a life or death situation + witnessing someone they care about or was close with pass away right infront of them)

Grover : he thinks that he's a failure because he feels guilty of not being able to save thalia who got turned into a tree instead + lacks self confidence because everyone thinks he'll fail his mission on finding and saving Pan.

Thalia : had to expereince losing her brother who's the only other person she has got left excluding her mom, had an alcoholic insane mom, had to run away from home, take care of young annabeth (she enjoyed it ofc), get turned into a tree, become human again only to find out that her best friend/ possibly crush as well betrayed her and everyone, and because of that and to avoid the responsible of being the child of a prophecy became a huntress, then finds her little brother who she thought was dead later on only for him to die a year later.

Jason : was abandoned by his mom when he was only 2, got raised by wolves, was then sent into a military child camp, was always given huge responsibilty from a young age only because of his heritage, only had 1 friend who he could be honest with because they're both stuck in the same situation, got his memoried stolen as well had a girl think that they were dating but eventually fell in love with her as well, finds out he has a sister and had to leave her after only meeting for an hour to save a goddess who doesn't really like him, is often insecure at times, has witnessed his friends nearly die, and eventually died at a VERY young age.

Piper : suffers from daddy issues since she has a famous actor as a dad, her father rarely spends time with her + she has never had anyone else as a friend who doesn't use her, her dad only acknowledges her when she's in trouble and thats probably only for a few minutes. despite knowing that, she still goes all the way to find trouble just so her dad would talk to her even if actually means being scolded by her dad + has only ever told leo who her dad is (before the incident in cabin 10 out of frustration). during her first ever quest, she had to choose between her dad or people she just knew and accepts her for her, survive without knowing any combat and had to rely on her charmspeak skills alone, and finally met her mom for the very first time. also, imagine how hurt you'd be thinking that you had a boyfriend but then finding out that he actually wasn't. thankfully they eventually dated, but then after you broke up with him because you were confused with your feelings, he dies.

Frank : only had his mom and grandma who spoild him only for them to die in your teenage years, was then sent to a military camp, felt insecure because everyone there was way more talented than you, suddenly found out that you were a son of a god that is literally the opposite of you and feels embarrassed because of it, then finds out that you have cool powers and that you are actually one of the most powerful demigods ever but still not accepting it.

Hazel : lived in an abusive household, had to deal with insane racism, had to fight a giant all alone when she was just 13, then died, got saved by her half-brother, was sent into a military camp, met someone who looks like someone who didn't keep your promise, and still hasn't been able to deal with her past + future trauma.

Nico : has no living relatives accept for his half sister hazel, got his memories erased and was kept in a hotel where time doesn't exist, then was left by his sister only to find out that she died after trusting her safety to a friend that he admired and trust. then found out that he had super powers and is a son of a god everyone dislikes, ran away and betrayed everyone, but then apologized + helped. his sister didn't want to talk to him and eventually chose re-birth, had to go through tartarus ALONE, discovered that he has a half sister, and is still trying to heal from all of his trauma.

(+ don't forget the other demigods, magicians, and everyone in the magnus chase series)

(btw feel free to add more or correct me if i have any mistakes, thank you !!!)

[hellpotter]

Hello! How about 48 or 51 from the prompt list of you want to 💛

i might have slept with your robe while you were gone | percabeth (I guess?)

Annabeth hadn’t expected she’d become so attached to Sally. Sure, she’d always liked her a lot, but after Percy had disappeared, they’d grown closer and closer together. Now, she was like an older sister or a mother or... Annabeth didn’t know well how to put it in words. She just knew Sally was now someone necessary for her sanity to be kept. She was sure she wouldn’t be dealing with Percy’s disappearance if it wasn’t for her. She knew she wouldn’t have the strength to carry on. She just knew they helped each other survive, and that was enough.

That’s why, the day after she met her mother on the subway, she just knew maybe seeing Sally would help her feel better.

It had been a crappy week. It had been some crappy weeks, actually. But now, with that burning drachma on her pocket and that whole bunch of nonsense about revenge and the Mark of Athena in her head... It was just too much. She felt like crying and screaming and punching someone all at once. She needed comfort. She needed Percy.

So, she didn’t think much about it before showing up at Sally Jackson’s apartment. She didn’t think about the abnormal number of monsters she’d found and fought on her way there, or the bruises they’d left her with. She didn’t register the environment around her before walking in and hugging her, and then being led to a comfortable sit at her couch. She wasn’t surprised when she found herself crying and trembling and holding a cup of tea while spilling out her feelings.

They talked about what happened. They tried to figure it out. They talked about Percy. They cried and they held each other together. And soon (or maybe long hours after) Annabeth felt like there were no more tears inside her to be shed. She felt cleaner and less overwhelmed, but at the same time, she felt strengthless, like all the energy she had in her body had been drained. So she just sat there and stared at the ground.

“I’m sorry,” she said, suddenly, which made Sally raise her eyebrows.

“What for?”

“I- For everything. For not being able to keep him safe. For not keeping it together. For showing up like that without notice,” she stared at the window and watched the sun go down, unable to look inside Sally’s red eyes.

“Hey,” a hand on her shoulder made Annabeth reestablish eye contact. “Don’t be. You have nothing to be sorry about. None of that is your fault. And I don’t mind you showing up. You’re not alone, and you being here reminds me that I’m not, either.”

She could only nod and pull her into a hug that she wasn’t sure how long lasted.

“I hope we can find him,” she whispered.

“We will,” Sally muttered back. “We have to believe it.”

When they broke apart, Sally looked at the clock and got up suddenly. “Oh gods,” she looked down at Annabeth, apologetically. “Honey, I have to go. I promised Paul I would go to the grocery store before picking him up at school, so I really have to leave now.”

Annabeth started to get up, but was stopped by a hand on her shoulder again. “Why don’t you stay here?”

“What?”

Sally bit her lip. “Stay for dinner, at least. You can wait here and we can all have dinner together when I’m back with Paul. I’ll make some pasta or we can order pizza. We can drive you back if it’s too late.”

Annabeth wasn’t sure how to feel about it, but she suddenly felt the urge for some traditional family time, and shook her head. “Okay. That sounds good.”

When Sally smiled to her, she thought maybe it was the first time she’d seen it in a long, long time. “Good. And Annabeth, maybe you can take a shower and try to calm down while I’m out, honey. I think it’ll make you feel better.”

“Oh. I don’t-“

“I’ve got some clothes on the bathroom cabinet, you can borrow them.”

“O-okay.”

It wasn’t long before Sally left and Annabeth caught herself sitting there staring at the sky again, loosing herself in the burning feeling of the silver drachma near her skin. Then she took a moment to feel the pain on her body and noticed the dirt and bruises she’d been left with, from her short travel to the apartment. So she decided a shower might not be a bad idea, after all.

The hot water helped comfort her, and even though she had to keep the same underwear, the feeling of clean clothes on her body made her feel her head clearer, her thoughts and feelings lighter, somehow. Still, the cotton shorts and shirt she’d found on the cabinet made her feel chilly, so she grabbed a light robe that she saw hanging behind the door.

She was on her way back to the couch when she passed through the door to Percy’s room, that was slightly open. She stopped, considering. And then took a deep breath before walking in.

Everything inside screamed Percy Jackson. The poorly done bed, the dark blue sheets and the posters and drawings on the walls. The opened bag with school books left hanging on the wall and the old skateboard leaning besides the wardrobe.

It all brought back to her the memory of him, the way his hair was never properly on place and he didn’t seem to mind. The way his eyes lightened up when he talked about something he liked and darkened whenever he was worried or they were in danger... Whenever he looked at her hoping he hadn’t said or done anything wrong.

Also, the smell. Somehow, the place still smelled salty, like the ocean was just around the corner.

Finally, the photographs. The picture of him besides his mom in Montauk when he was a kid. The one were he and Grover stood on the strawberry fields, and the one where he and Tyson held their skateboards, arms around each other, childish grins on their 13-years-old faces. And then... The one where he had his arms around her, wrapping her in a hug from behind, huge smiles on their faces as they looked to the camera in Central Park.

She could almost feel his arms on her body, the safeness in it. Like he had vanished just two seconds ago, instead of days and weeks and... Like he was just behind the door, in the hallway, and could walk a few steps and wrap her in that homey hug again.

And then she was crying again, and wrapping her own arms around her and laying on his bed because she couldn’t trust her legs to keep her standing. And then her eyes were just too tired and her mind was just too much and her heart was just too heavy for her to be awake for a minute more.

***

She woke up at the sound of Sally coming home with Paul.

“We’re back!”

By the time she reached Percy’s room, Annabeth had already gotten up, but she was sure her face and clothes basically had written all over them that she’d been napping.

Sally stopped at the doorway and turned on the lights.

“Annabeth?”

“Gods- Sally, I’m sorry, I,” she looked at the ground. “I might have slept with your robe while you were gone.”

She was sure her face was as red as Apollo’s sacred cows.

Sally’s mouth turned slightly up into a side smile. “It’s alright, honey.”

They stood in silence for a while, Annabeth facing the ground until she found the courage to look Sally in the eyes and was surprised by how welcoming and warm they still were.

“Why don’t you sleep here tonight? You can stay in Percy’s room. Maybe it’s better if you’re not alone tonight.”

Annabeth nodded affirmatively.

“Okay, then. You can grab some of his clothes if you want, too. If it’ll keep you warmer.”

“Okay.”

“Well, c’mon then. I could use some help in the kitchen.”

She turned to leave, but Annabeth finally found her voice. “Sally?”

She stopped and turned back to her, with questioning eyes.

“Thank you. For everything.”

“We’re family, honey. That’s what we do. We stick together.”

Annabeth was glad she didn’t find it hard to trust her.

[thebigqueer]

Solangelo - "Lethal Enemies" - One-Shot

Summary: Nico and Will are venturing through Tartarus, and there they meet a familar god: Eros.

Word Count: 2905

SPOILERS: Tower of Nero, Burning Maze; TW: Homophobia/Internalized Homophobia, some violence (and blood but it's not too descriptive), outing mentions

Read on AO3

Heat pulses in the air, scorching Nico’s skin as he and Will stumble through the darkness. He isn’t sure how long they’ve been down here, but his body is already aching and screaming from all the effort of fighting monsters and trying to survive.

Will’s arm brushes against Nico’s, and the child of Hades almost jumps back at the touch. His skin feels feverishly hot, bursting with unnatural heat. When Nico looks up at him, he realizes that Will’s face is severed with scratches, gashes, sweat, and an overall pale wash. Small holes smoke in his CHB T-shirt, and his jeans are ripped at the sides from where a monster clawed him.

At the sight of him, Nico’s chest constricts with sympathy and guilt. As much as he loves Will for coming with him, he knows the kind of pressures that would put on both of them. Will looks so out of place in such a dark, gloomy world, where only terror and misery reside.

To Nico, Will is the complete opposite of terror and misery. He’s the sunshine after a terrible rain storm; he’s the sweetness after the sourness. But here, in the raging darkness, Will looks washed out. He doesn’t belong here.

Tartarus is Nico’s terrifying, unspeakable past; Will is his bright future. The two should not be clashing.

This hell was made to ruin. And it seems like it’s doing its job on Will, too.

Nico slips his fingers into the blond’s and squeezes, pushing his own feverish warmth into his boyfriend. Will turns his face to Nico’s and, for the first time, Nico sees a crack in his eyes - usually so sky blue, they’ve turned almost gray with fear. He’s breaking.

Nico leans into Will’s side, trying to find solace in the overbearing darkness. “It’s only going to get worse,” he mutters.

“Then I’m glad I’m not doing it alone.”

Nico offers a wavering smile, and they continue walking. For the most part, it seems like they’re safe from any monsters, but Nico knows from past experience that he can never be too careful. His eyes swerve all around them, watching out for any new monsters, and his Stygian sword pulses in the darkness.

After a few moments, there’s a shift in the air. It’s still warm and unbearable, but there’s a new scent - like a faint waft of the outside world, the breath of a fresh summer day. It smells almost like Will.

The blood in Nico’s veins buzzes and he stops immediately. Fear courses through his body. Will staggers as the child of Hades grips his wrist and pulls him back. At the sight of Nico’s ashen face, Will leans in. “Everything good?” he asks.

“That smell,” he whispers. “What does it smell like to you?”

“Well,” Will says, eyebrows knitting together as he thinks, “it kind of smells like you, weirdly? Like, the earth after a rainy day.”

That’s all Nico needs to know before panic settles in his chest. His mind crawls with memories and the pain of humiliation he faced just a year ago. Jason, Croatia, Diocletian’s spectre.

“No,” he mutters. “Will, we need to leave.”

Without waiting for a response, Nico tightens his fingers over Will’s wrist and starts to pull him away. But a voice murmurs, “Oh, leaving so soon, child of Hades?” and Nico knows right then and there that he and Will are trapped.

The voice pours over the heat like melted chocolate, smooth and deep, but a dagger of betrayal resides in it. Nico’s heart thuds on overtime and his nerves flair with anxiety, but he knows he can’t go anywhere. This meeting was bound to happen.

“Eros,” Nico hisses.

“Ah,” the voice murmurs. “So you recognize me.”

The god isn’t visible, but Nico can feel his cold presence anyway. “Who would forget such a jackass?”

A low, rumbling laugh echoes around them. Will’s hand releases its hold on Nico’s and lingers over the gun at his side. Nico raises his sword.

“Well, well, well,” the god says, “it looks like you’ve got a new friend here with you. How sweet.”

“Show yourself,” Will demands. “Face us like the hot-headed deity you are.”

Though he can’t see it, Nico still senses the raised eyebrow over the god’s eye. “Oh, he’s feisty, too. You sure have won with him.”

“Stop talking about him like he’s some kind of object,” says Nico. “You heard him. Show yourself.”

The same laughter crashes over them, and after another moment, a being appears. His long, black hair gleams despite the absence of light, and his red eyes glimmer maliciously in the darkness. They stare right through Nico, stabbing him in the face, and suddenly Nico’s hurtling to the past, to the misery. He scowls at the god.

Eros’ wings spread around him, the feathers fluttering a little as he shifts. He crosses his arms and offers a sharp smirk to Will and Nico. “Aw, look at you two,” he purrs. “So young and in love. Ready to fight together in Tartarus.”

“What do you want?” Nico asks, brandishing his sword. “Why are you bothering us?”

Eros’ shoulders rise and fall gracefully in an innocent shrug. “Oh, nothing, really. I was really just hoping to see how you were. I heard you were traveling down here, and I thought I would check on your progress.”

“Well, great. You’ve checked. You can leave.”

He laughs again, a low, tumbling laugh that heightens Nico’s rage. “Ever the sarcastic, child of Hades. No, listen. I can help you.”

“And how will you do that?” Will asks, raising an eyebrow. “You’re nothing more than a love god.”

“Have the Aphrodite children taught you nothing, pitiful child?” Eros hisses. “Love plays an important role in life.”

“I don’t see how love is helpful here,” Nico says, spreading his arms to gesture to the rest of Tartarus. “All I see is pain and misery. You can leave.”

“Oh, but I see where love can become important.” Eros raises a brow and tips his head to the boys. “Are you two not in love?”

Nico blushes. “That is not of your concern.”

“I can influence a lot,” he promises. “Especially the way you two act together. Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase - the two you were oh-so-jealous of only some time ago - came here together. They got away safely. I can influence a lot between you and Will Solace.” He steps forward, and against his lips, a dagger-like smile beams at Nico.

The son of Hades crosses his arms. “I happen to remember that I got through here on my own. Love does not solve all problems.”

Eros raises an eyebrow. “Does it not?” He begins to circle around Will and Nico, glaring at them with his ruby-red eyes. “Tell me, Nico, does Will not make you feel special? Does he not help you feel better?”

Rage billows up in Nico’s chest, pushing against his sternum. “I am happy with Will. But he does not solve my problems, just the way I do not solve his.”

“But you are happier with him, is that right?” Another smile flashes across his mouth. “And who are you to thank for him, hmm? If it were not for me, you would not be here today with him. You would not be happy accepting who you are.”

Nico’s anger rises up to this throat, hot waves of rage crashing against the back of his neck. He surges forward, but Will pulls him back. “No,” he whispers. “He’s a god, Nico. Don’t try.”

Nico glares at Will, but deep down, he knows Will is right. So he sighs and stands still.

“I would not be happy?” he growls. Nico's muscles tighten with rage. “You humiliated me. I wasn’t ready to admit who I was; I wasn’t ready for any of that.” This time, despite Will’s insistence, Nico rushes forward, his anger pulling him toward the god. “It was my choice, and you stole it from me! And you’re congratulating yourself?”

“It’s not like there were many people there,” the god scoffs. “Only Grace.” He pouts. “I heard about the demigod’s untimely death, however. Terribly sorry.”

Nico shakes his head. He knows Eros is just trying to get under his skin by mentioning Jason. He can’t let himself get distracted.

“Your outing of me was not something to celebrate,” hisses Nico. “I spent so much time hating myself, hating Percy because of who I was. When you forced me to blatantly admit that I was gay” - a burst of confidence blooms in Nico’s chest as he says the last word - “I had never felt so violated. I only hated myself more, because I was terrified of who I was. The entire experience was humiliating. You ruined me.”

“Did I?” Eros asks. “The first step in accepting yourself was to admit you were gay in the first place. I pushed you to accept yourself.” He gestures to Will. “Now look where you are! Happy and in love with a boyfriend! Is there anything better?”

Nico’s chest heaves as another wave of rage suffocates him. His body shakes with anger. He feels like a detonating bomb; in just a few seconds, he will explode and destroy everything in the area.

“You only made things worse,” mutters Nico. “I spent days worrying about who was watching me, worrying about how much people knew. I hated myself every moment, every second afterwards, even more so than before you forced me to admit that I was gay.” Nico takes a deep breath, his chest expanding as he does so. “Maybe you’re right - maybe I did need to admit to myself who I was. But it should have been on my own terms. You did not help me accept myself; all you did was make me tell myself what I already knew. You made the entire process of accepting myself more difficult than it needed to be. When I spat out that I liked Percy, I felt… I felt violated. I felt like someone had stabbed me right through the back. I… I hated myself more than I ever did at that moment. I thought it was the end; I thought right then and there, I would die. Not from embarrassment, but from someone else’s hands. My own hands. I thought there was nothing more humiliating than to be forced to tell someone I didn’t know that I was some kind of disgusting creature. I felt so dehumanized.” Nico glares at Eros. “Don’t feel happy that you did that. You did not improve my life; only I did that. Not Will, not you, not any of my friends. Me. Do not take credit for my accomplishments.” Hot fury seethes in Nico’s core, washes up over his chest, crashes against his throat, trickles down his arms and legs. His lungs expand and exhale as he breathes hard, each breath like acid burning down his sinuses. “My work has been looked over too much, ever since I first learned of demigods. Do not take the credit for my self-improvement, because you are one of the many reasons I was destroyed in the first place.”

For a moment, no one speaks. An eerie silence lingers in the air, holding Nico in a chokehold. Eros simply watches him, his eyebrows lowered and a fierce, judgmental, angry look glowing in his red eyes. Will tilts his head at Nico and offers the ghost of a smile. I'm proud of you, he seems to be saying.

Nico doesn’t return it, but even then, a little flower of confidence blooms in his chest.

Eros crosses his arms once more, airing his defiance out into the open. Arrogance sparks along his wings. He raises a brow at Nico. “You have become more bold in yourself. Self-assured.” A sharp smile grates against his mouth. “And that would not have happened had you not admitted you were gay at all. I may have humiliated you, but in the end, you have become stronger through your pain. You have become sturdy, grounded into the world. I have led you to your happiness.” He offers a secretive smile to Will. “And your happiness is your boyfriend. You’re welcome.”

Nico watches Eros, glaring at his over-confident face, at his casual posture, at the pride in his eyes. He is too assured in himself, too hot-headed.

The sword in Nico’s hand grows heavier, a hum buzzing through the metal. Irritation and anger swirl in his chest, creating a tornado in his body, and he’s drowning, drowning in his rage, in his memories, in his untamed emotions.

He knows what he has to do.

Nico raises his sword, and, without even thinking, he slashes the god’s shoulder.

“Nico!” Will cries, but it’s too late. Eros cries out and hisses through his teeth, holding his arm in his hand. His angry red eyes gleam right at the child of Hades, projecting all his rage and pain right to Nico’s core. The demigod merely stands still, waiting for the god’s next move.

“Oh, you arrogant hero!” Eros cries. Golden ichor slips past his fingers, dripping onto the ground, and for a strange, fleeting moment, Nico finds that it looks beautiful in the darkness, sparkling where it should not be.

Only pain belongs in Tartarus. Nico wants to hurt Eros the way he hurt him.

Nico knows the act was stupid, but he can’t help the grin that takes over his face. Laughter bubbles out of his chest, sprinkled with something maniacal, something angry. “What’s wrong, my lord?” Nico purrs, leaning against his sword. “You said love fixes pain. Can it fix you?”

Eros snarls at Nico, but the son of Hades doesn’t care. Nothing beats the thrill that thrums in his body at the sight of the god being so frustrated.

Eros pants through the pain, his face turning red. “You think you are something special, don’t you, child?”

Nico laughs, the sound of it ironic in such a painful place. The laugh overflows with repressed pain, with hot anger.

That laugh belongs here in Tartarus, with its madness and rage.

“Oh, Eros,” Nico mutters. “I spent so long thinking I deserved nothing. I spent so long thinking everywhere I went, misery followed me. I have never felt special.” He glances up and down at the god. “You asked me if even Will makes me feel special. Well, no. He makes me… feel good. But you know what makes me feel actually special?”

Despite his rage, curiosity strangles Eros’ eyes. He waits for a response, hissing as more ichor spills out of his godly being.

“What makes me feel good, what makes me feel like I have a worth in this world,” Nico says as a smile creeps over his face, offering him a maniacal glow, “is when I provide justice to those who have done wrong. Originally I always believed Death has no mercy, only justice.” He slashes again at Eros, who cries louder and falls to his knees. He pants through the pain. “Well, I suppose there are other ways to provide justice.”

Nico runs his finger through the golden ichor that gleams over his sword. Touching it, Nico’s finger tingles with power. He looks at Eros again. “What makes me feel special is when I defeat entitled assholes like you, my lord.”

“You have not defeated me,” the god growls.

“No, not physically,” Nico agrees. “But I have defeated the pain you have caused me.” He touches the tip to Eros’ chin, balancing it mere millimeters from his skin. The point gleams red as it reflects the glow of Eros’ eyes. “Begone, you pitiful asshole.”

Eros snarls and throws Nico’s sword away, but the demigod only smiles. This is exactly the reaction he wanted.

“You cannot kill me, arrogant hero,” Eros reminds him.

“No, but I can scare you.” Raising an eyebrow at him, Nico says, “Many have been scared of me. I am a child of Hades. You may be a god, but you have no idea of what I am capable of.”

Eros regards Nico with a sharp glare, but the sight of it no longer grates against Nico’s conscience. He’s only bursting with energy, with confidence. He hasn’t felt so alive in years. Power hums in his core, billows over his chest, courses through his veins. He feels almost invincible.

“You have made an enemy, Nico di Angelo,” Eros promises. “And love is no enemy you want. Especially not with someone in your situation.”

Nico falters. What does Eros mean? Does he mean his being gay? Does he mean with society in general? Then Nico turns to his boyfriend, who’s shivering with fear and adrenaline at his side, and it clicks. He means Will.

Nico scowls at Eros. “You say I have made an enemy, Eros, but the truth of the matter is that you made me an enemy long ago. When you first stabbed me in the shoulder with your weapon.” Nico glances at the wound on Eros’ left arm and shakes his head. “You made a mistake long ago. You are only now realizing it.”

Silence lingers around them, floating tensely in the hot air. Then Eros says, “I can influence a lot.” A glimmer of confidence returns in his eyes. “Be warned, child of Hades.”

With that, Eros disappears. And Will and Nico are left alone once more, staring ahead to whatever terrors lie ahead.

[aion-rsa]

Midnight Mass Ending Explained

https://ift.tt/39I2zkp

This article contains spoilers for Midnight Mass.

Ending a horror story is hard.

Perhaps no one knows that better than Mike Flanagan, the writer-director behind horror hits like Doctor Sleep, The Haunting of Hill House, and The Haunting of Bly Manor. After observing the occasional less-than-enthusiastic reaction to the endings of some of his other projects, Flanagan decided to end his latest, Netflix series Midnight Mass, on his own terms.

“I didn’t want to come up with an ending that I thought would please people,” Flanagan told Den of Geek and other outlets prior to Midnight Mass’s premiere. “I wanted to come up with the ending that would have the most to say down the line.”

So what, exactly, does the ending of Midnight Mass have to say? Let’s explain just what goes down in the conclusion of Midnight Mass and assess what it all means. 

What’s Up with Mildred Gunning and John Pruitt?

Monsignor John Pruitt a.k.a. Father Paul (Hamish Linklater) was, by all indications, a good Christian man. 

“The thing we kept coming back to is that authentically, through-and-through evil people are very rare. We’re all way more complicated. The humanity of Father Paul was something that was baked in relatively early,” Flanagan says.

Though Pruitt is not a bad man, per se, he is a deeply flawed one. A long time ago, before the “war” (probably World War II or The Korean War), Pruitt hooked up with the married Mildred Gunning and fathered their daughter Sarah Gunning out of wedlock. That is obviously a big no-no for a priest and Pruitt lived with the guilt of denying his daughter for decades. 

Pruitt finally got a chance to alleviate that guilt when he came across a curious creature in Damascus. In this fictional universe where the concept of a vampire is clearly not well known, John Pruitt made the understandable mistake of confusing a monstrous vampire for an equally monstrous angel. After all, the angels of the bible are so visually terrifying that they make a habit of telling those they visit “be not afraid.” 

Pruitt thought this angel had granted him the gift of eternal life, just like the Bible promises. He then decides to share that gift with his congregation. The priest’s major sin here though is pride. He didn’t share the angel’s gift with his congregation out of pure benevolence. He did it because he wanted many more years of life in his prime with Mildred and Sarah at his side. Catholicism means everything to Pruitt. And yet, he would cast it all aside for another chance to have the family he wanted. 

“If you showed up and asked me, I would have taken this collar off and gone with you. Gone with you anywhere in the world,” Pruitt tells Mildred after she’s been vampirified. 

That’s a touching sentiment from the artist formerly known as Father Paul but it’s unfortunately a destructive one.

“When it became clear that Paul could do bad things with pure motives, the show came into clearer focus. There’s only one character in the whole show who I think is evil and it’s not Father Paul,” Flanagan says.

Only one character who is evil? Who could Flanagan be referr….ohhh.

What Were the Vampires’ Plans?

Flanagan actually never confirms which character he sees as evil, but Bev Keane (Samantha Sloyan) seems to be the best fit…unless we count the angel, and he just seems to be a hungry, growing boy.

Bev is, let’s say, a real piece of work. As beautifully depicted by Sloyan, Bev Keane is the officious church lady who can’t keep her nose out of other people’s business. After Mildred talks some sense into John Pruitt, he understands that he and his congregation “are the wolves” and refuses to participate further. That leaves a power vacuum at the top, which Bev is more than happy to step into. 

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Why Midnight Mass is Mike Flanagan’s Most Personal Work

By Alec Bojalad

TV

Midnight Mass Cast: Previous Credits From Hill House to Bly Manor, Legion & Sherlock

By Louisa Mellor

Now that Bev has a veritable army of superpowered vampires what does she intend to do with them? The same thing that all Bevs want to do: make more Bevs. Bev represents the worst of colonial Christianity and its historical penchant for converting all to its kingdom of heaven…through any means necessary.

When Erin Greene (Kate Siegel) finds out that Bev and friends have merely disabled the boats and not destroyed them, she realizes that their ultimate plan is to eventually take their vampire party to the mainland and create a whole planet of enlightened Christians who just happy to have an insatiable taste for blood and a severe UV-ray allergy. 

What Happens to Crockett Island?

Thankfully, Bev’s ultimate goal never comes to pass thanks to the careful plotting of the handful of human beings left in Crockett Island. Erin Greene, Sarah Gunning (Annabeth Gish), Sheriff Hassan (Rahul Kohli), and Annie Flynn (Kirstin Lehman) get to work on finishing the destruction that Bev started.

Ironically, it’s part of Bev’s plan that eventually dooms her and her kind. When one of Bev’s lackeys proposes putting out a fire that the human crew started because the whole island could burn to nothing like in ‘84, Bev’s eyes light up.

“I mean…the church didn’t burn in ‘84,” she says.

Surely this is Revelation. And Revelation means a hale mixed with fire and blood. There will be a flood of fire that ends the world and St. Patrick’s church will be the arc. That’s a great plan and all…as long as something doesn’t happen to the arc.

Welp. Sarah Gunning burns down St. Patrick’s and Sheriff Hassan and Erin Greene (with an assist from Hassan’s son) burn down the rec center. As if burning a church designated as an arc wasn’t symbolically compelling enough, recall that the rec center next to it is equally as symbolic of Bev’s greed. It was Bev who convinced Crockett Island to take the oil company’s money for ruining their island rather than pursuing litigation. And all they got out of that settlement money was that stupid rec center.

With the church and the rec center gone, there are no man-made structures for the vampires to hide from the sun in the coming morning. And that’s how an entire island of 120-ish vampires perishes simultaneously when the sun rises. 

Why Do Leeza and Warren Survive? 

All of Crockett Island perishes save for two actually. Warren Flynn (Igby Rigney) and Leeza Scarborough (Annarah Cymone) are spared thanks to some quick thinking. Putting the only two remaining non-vampirized children in harm’s way is not an option for Erin, Sarah, Hassan, and Annie. Thankfully, Warren knows of one secret canoe to reach the “Uppards” that Bev’s crew wouldn’t know about. 

The canoe doesn’t take Warren and Leeza to the mainland but it does get them away from the carnage to come. The last shot of the series is Warren and Leeza floating peacefully and Leeza announcing that she can no longer feel her legs. This means that the last bit of “angel” blood has likely left her system and with it Pruitt’s vampire legacy is over. 

Saving Warren and Leeza has practical, emotional implications for Midnight Mass’s characters but it also has some symbolic ones as well. The concept of witnessing and witnesses themselves are very important in the Bible. As a second-hand text (though purportedly with every word inspired by God) there would be no gospel without witnesses. Good news is only half the battle. Someone to witness and report on the good news is the other half. Now Warren and Leeza can report on the ultimate good news that the world is saved.

The fact that the kids survive while the adults succumb to their own adult nonsense has some major implications for Midnight Mass’s creator 

“That last moment of the next generation looking out at the ashes of what the grown ups made – that’s what my kids are gonna get no matter what,” Flanagan says. “That’s what all of our kids are gonna get. I wish it wasn’t as on fire as it it. But it really is. We’re never going to be able to explain adequately to our children what happened to the planet they inherited.”

What Happens to the Angel?

With all of Crockett Island burned to the ground, the world’s vampire nightmare is over, right? Well that depends on how well you think an angel can fly with torn wings. No, that’s not an aphorism or a poem, it’s the real question facing the end of Midnight Mass.

As if saving Warren and Leeza and upending Bev Keane’s plans weren’t enough, Erin leaves one last little gift for humanity before she dies. While the angel attacks her and drinks her sweet, sweet blood, Erin begins systematically, yet carefully cutting holes in its leathery wings. At first the angel is kind of annoyed but his hunger supersedes any level of discomfort or pain he’s feeling. 

Later on, while Warren and Leeza watch their home burn they see the angel flying away but in a halted, loopy pattern. The kids aren’t sure if the beast will have time to find shelter before the sun rises. According to Flanagan, if Midnight Mass is a parable (and he assures us it is) then the ultimate lesson of all this isn’t too hard to glean. 

“The angel doesn’t represent vampirism or horror but corruption in any belief system,” he says. “It represents fundamentalism and fanaticism. That’s never gonna go away. You might chase it away from your community for a minute. You might send it off to the sunrise and hope that that corrupting ideology will disappear. But it won’t. And the show could never show the angel die for that reason.”

With that in mind, the angel’s flawed flight pattern isn’t so much Inception’s spinning top but rather a promise that evil will find a way. And then we puny human beings will just have to find a way to stop it all over again. If that’s not Biblical then we don’t know what is.

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All seven episodes of Midnight Mass are available to stream on Netflix now.

The post Midnight Mass Ending Explained appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[thejudgingtrash]

would you class percy as a morally grey character? i’m really interested to hear your input

Anon 2: Would u class percy as an Morally Gray character?

Hey there! Let me write that essay for you about morally gray Percy ^^

It’s not about whether Percy is a morally gray character or not, it’s about he has to be otherwise the story doesn’t make any sense. At least for me it wouldn’t.

Ashley (@gr33kg0ds) said in the tags of my dark!Percy post something along the line of people diminishing Percy’s character because they need him to be pure and fluffy and I wholeheartedly agree with that!

Just because Percy’s twelve doesn’t mean he’s pure and didn’t do unproblematic things. I’ll mostly refer to The Lightning Thief because that book is the Magnus Opus for Riordan and perfectly stands for Percy as a morally gray character from the very beginning of the saga. (Also the only book I’ve recently re-read)

As much as I love fanon with all the amazing artworks, debates, memes and jokes, analysis, cool edits and wonderful fanfics, projecting your version of Percy doesn’t make the image in your head real. Percy in canon is not the fun and fluffy boy you imagine him to be or which social media sites (Reddit, Twitter, Instagram and yes, also Tumblr) tend to make him to be. He’s a scrawny little sarcastic twerp that was the unpopular kid. He isn’t that cringy dude Tony Lopez doing that fucking weird TikTok dance (side note: I don’t even know who this person is and I don't care, I saw the video and immediately wanted to delete every social media app on my phone, so thanks Tony?), kissing his Yeezys goodnight, vibing to our lord and gay icon Taylord “T. Swizzle” Swift song and flexing them iPhone 11 Max Pros. Percy literally said that going to Burger King with his mother once in a while would be considered a luxury. He’s a poor bastard in literal sense.

Part of the problem with the distinction of Percy’s character and his motives stem from the fact that Percy is a sneaky unreliable narrator and we as the audience (especially if you’re younger) don’t question most of his behavior if you even question some (pretty sure that most of us only picked up weird stuff as adults). Everything seems plausible to you. But does it mean that his behavior is necessarily good? Something that would paint his character as good?

Like I’ve said, let’s take a look at TLT. The very beginning of everything and the wonderful line that gets quoted everywhere: “Look, I didn't want to be a half-blood”. 

The very first line that quoted everywhere or used as in moodboard and edits but its meaning and significance get brushed off for the most part. It immediately sets the tone and the atmosphere for the book and for Percy as a character. A(n in my opinion) morally gray character. The very first thing we hear from Percy is that he doesn’t want to be in this world. He’s an involuntary participant who has been (upon further reading) blackmailed and forced into this world and is only cooperating to get his mother back and said in regards to his father (who also stands for the Greek pantheon) ”well yeah, would be nice to know about my dad but I’ve survived without him the past twelve years so I don’t know, he wouldn’t be missed necessarily I guess?“ That pretty much tells you, it foreshadows, that we will be dealing with someone with grit, someone that fights back, someone that went through shit, someone that isn’t a goody two-shoed character. Does it mean he’s a terrible (in the sense of evil or bad) character from the get go? Not really, but it tells you in nuances that he won’t be the white shining knight you might expect from a fairy tale.

There is so much that little Perseus Jackson has to offer you directly in the first book. So much that paints him as a morally gray character. From the illegal candy stash all the way to tricking Procrustes into his own trap. He knows right from wrong and isn’t innocent by any means. He wants you to think he’s innocent. Yes, he hunts monsters and the book also tells you that some adults (Gabe) can also be monsters, but Percy’s personality is so interesting and full of facets which I love! He’s misleading you on purpose. Deflects, plays events down. He lies in front of you to others but you don’t really doubt it. Instead of questioning it, you understand it.

What distinguishes Percy from other male protagonists in that notion that the author doesn’t try to paint him as particularly good (the reader connects the dots, in reality) is pretty much that. Percy is neither inherently good or bad. He’s in the middle. He does lots of questionable things and his personality adds to it. Something that immediately comes to my mind is his lack of fear of consequences. He thinks in the short term and not in the long term. Of course, he’s caring about those that are close and important to him (Grover, Annabeth and his mother of course. And well. The world not getting destroyed by his weird father and fucking crazy uncle would be a plus). But Percy isn’t really a strategist (yet). Look at the Medusa head thingy. Annabeth and Grover warn him, that he’s gonna get his ass beat and he doesn’t care. That these gods could squish him in the end didn’t matter to him.

The Olympian gods are painted as these unpenetrable huge mighty force and some fuzzy annoyed twelve year old dipshit sends them the severed head of a monster - but not any monster, the monster his father had a role in creating (well, Athena for the most part, but you know what I mean). (Also, I know this kinda reckless behavior gets sorta rewarded but at first, everyone was like ‘NO, NO, NO!’ before Percy was glorious with his attempt). Percy essentially tells these ancient forces that drive the way of his new cosmos how shit‘s gonna work from now on.

Percy isn’t fear riddled and doesn’t think about the possible outcome. He manipulates, he lies, he persuades and all of this as soon as he hits twelve. But probably earlier. Pretty sure he had to become a believable lier in order to trick (survive being around) Gabe. Perseus is angry, he’s agitated. Had Riordan written Percy as a soft spoken, frightened, goody two-shoed kid, almost nothing in TLT and the follow-ups would have made sense. He’s the outcast, but slowly blossoms into the strength and muscles of the group. Of the entire camp. Someone that outsmarts opponents and wins battles. But he didn’t do that by playing nice and being a bootlicker.

TLT would’ve been a perfect standalone book that would have emphasized that Percy is an involuntary person sive) if you skip Kronos, leave a little bit foreshadowing with the prophecy out, tweak the talks with the gods and Annabeth’s first meeting and skip Luke and the scorpion at the end. The ending would’ve been “and so Percy had a first awesome summer vacation and found a group of friends for life” or so (aka PJO movie 1 in less shitty and more cohesive).

The morally gray character shrinks a little bit in the SOM because there lie straighter dangers ahead which dive more into the bigger picture and Percy grows more into the character who takes care of friends and but he does come back with TTC, and definitely BOTL and the St. Helens explosion.

Consequences of Percy’s interactions had people partially dying. There is doubt, there is guilt. But the show must go on. There are battles that have to be won. There is no big giving up, no big overturn for the bad guys.

Also... isn’t it interesting that we start with Percy saying ”look, I don’t want to be in this world“ in TLT and it ends with TLO where he says ”for once I didn’t look back“? The full circle? The way that accepting his fate took five books? To change Percy from being an involuntary participant to becoming voluntary? He didn’t want to be a half-blood, he didn’t want to be the kid in the prophecy, but he actively chose to be in the end. He went from a darker shade of gray to a mayhaps lighter, if you want to say so.

To conclude, I repeat myself again: it’s not about whether Percy is a morally gray character or not, it’s that he has to be.

Thanks for asking me about some meta stuff I really do like diving into these things here and there. Tumblr’s sorta glitchy, I do get notifications but I really don’t see asks, so I’m sorry if my response is mad late ^^

[peachhsocks]

like a lighthouse in a storm

Nico comes out to Percy and Annabeth (OR how that scene should have gone...)

read on ao3

“Hey!” Nico shouted, jogging toward them.

Percy tore his eyes away from Annabeth. His smile was a little crooked, as always. He’d told Nico once that it was what got him detention and an assigned seat in the front row of class. He had a troublemaker’s smile. Nico had never understood that assessment. All he felt when Percy smiled at him was warmth, and maybe a little bit of dread—not because he thought Percy was going to disrupt class or steal something off a shelf, but because he didn’t know how to deal with the warmth. He realized with a start that he didn’t feel that this time. The dread was gone.

“Hey,” Percy answered. “Annabeth just told me some great news. We’re going to do junior and senior year in the city together. Then we’re going to go to college in New Rome...” He trailed off and his smile turned apologetic. “Sorry, I’m just excited.”

He grabbed Annabeth’s hand and squeezed it. His eyes were bright. So were hers. Seeing them like that used to be enough to set Nico off, slipping into the shadows to sulk. Now, he was more happy for them than anything else. They’d been different since Tartarus. Nico wasn’t sure if the others on the Argo II had noticed, but he had. Maybe it was because he’d known them long before the rest of the seven came into their lives. Or maybe it was because he’d been down there as well. He recognized their pain because he felt it too.

They deserved a boring end to high school and peace in New Rome.

“That sounds awesome,” Nico said. “I’m really happy for you guys.”

“Thanks, man,” Percy replied easily, leaning his head onto Annabeth’s shoulder.

She didn’t look as relaxed as Percy. Her eyes, as analyzing and critical as ever, hadn’t left Nico since he walked over to them. He used to hate her for that more than he’d ever hated her for being with Percy. If anyone could have figured out his secret (on their own, without the help of freaking Cupid), it would have been her.

“Is everything okay, Nico?” she asked. 

Percy’s head snapped upright, concern flooding his features. He looked over Nico as if searching for an injury. Nico wished it was that simple. He contemplated faking one, but he knew Will Solace was no more than twenty yards away. That kid was so annoying. He’d probably insist Nico stay in the infirmary for a week instead of three days. Nico hated that the thought of more time with him was a little bit exciting.

“Yeah, I just—“ He nudged the toe of his shoe into the grass. The blades started turning black, crumbling beneath his touch. “There’s something I wanted to tell you guys. It’s really not a big deal, though, so if you’re too busy—“

“‘Course not,” Percy said immediately.

Annabeth nodded in agreement.

Nico’s heart started pounding—too hard, too fast. He sort of felt like he was dying, but he knew he wasn’t. Perks of being prince of the dead.

“I’m gay,” he said, staring down at the wilting grass. The word was a little foreign out loud, heavy. “I know we just fought the earth, and you guys fought a lot of giants, so it’s not that important but I just—“ His hands were shaking so he shoved them into the pockets of his black jeans. “I wanted to tell you guys.”

Percy sprang to his feet. “Dude!”

Nico flinched, but Percy was grinning. He looked almost as happy as he’d looked about moving to New Rome with Annabeth. Nico didn’t really understand it because half the time he wasn’t sure if Percy even liked him. Nico wasn’t always good to him. He’d blamed Percy for Bianca’s death for a year, led him straight into his dad’s prison, pretended he hadn’t recognized him at Camp Jupiter.

But for every moment like that, there were nice moments as well. Percy had rescued him and Bianca after all, he’d invited Nico in through his window on his 15th birthday, sat by him at the bonfire in the weeks following the Battle of Manhattan. He'd always been there for him, or tried to be, even when Nico pushed him away.

Maybe, he’d had a friend all along and had been too caught up in his own head to notice.

“Can I hug you right now?” Percy asked. “I know you’re not into the whole touching thing, but—“

Nico darted forward, wrapping his arms around Percy’s waist. A little oomph sound fell out of Percy’s mouth on impact.

“You’re not as scrawny as you look,” he said.

Nico tried to laugh, but it stuck in his throat. He pulled away, wiping at his eyes.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “I was really nervous.”

Percy’s face softened. He pulled Nico back in for another hug, and then Annabeth was there too, her chin hooked over Nico’s shoulder. It was surprisingly nice. The last person who’d hugged him for this long had been Bianca. He felt just as safe between Percy and Annabeth as he used to in his sister’s arms. He started entertaining the thought of maybe staying just like that forever, when he realized they were still in the middle of the quad—where the whole world could see. Then, he felt like he might die from sheer embarrassment.

“Okay,” he said, squirming until they both let go. “That’s enough of that for three lifetimes.”

Percy laughed. Annabeth ruffled Nico’s hair playfully.

Nico had been unfair to her. She had always been kind to him, probably could have been another friend of his if he’d let her. Maybe they could start now.

“I used to be, um.” He let his eyes dart over to Percy for a moment, before looking back at Annabeth. “I used to be really jealous of you.”

She smiled, following his gaze to Percy, who just looked sort of confused. For all his wisdom on a battlefield, he’d always been frustratingly oblivious about this sort of thing. Nico was pretty sure there had been one summer when he, Annabeth, and Rachel Dare were all practically head over heels for the guy. And he’d just lopped around the Labyrinth without a clue—like an overgrown, two-legged labrador retriever.

“You’ve got good taste, Di Angelo,” Annabeth said.

She held up her hand. Nico hesitated for a moment before high-fiving it.

Percy’s cheeks had turned scarlet. “Um. If you’re saying what I think you’re saying... I’m flattered.”

Annabeth laughed and hit his arm lightly. She leaned in conspiratorially toward Nico, pitching her voice lower. “Or maybe we both have really, really awful taste.”

“Hey!” Percy complained.

Nico bit his lip to stop himself from smiling because it was starting to make his cheeks hurt again.

“And since we have similar taste,” Annabeth continued. “There’s this one guy who I’ve always thought was cute.”

Percy frowned, turning toward her. “Who?”

Annabeth’s eyes focused somewhere over Nico’s shoulder for a moment. “I mean, he’s a little young for me—“

“And you already have an amazing boyfriend who—“

Annabeth covered Percy’s mouth with her hand. “But, he’s super sweet and brave. Tougher than he looks. Saved my life once.”

Percy mumbled something against Annabeth’s hand that sounded like ‘who is this guy?’.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think I’m his type.”

Annabeth took her hand off Percy’s mouth. His nose was scrunched up like he didn’t understand how Annabeth could not be anyone’s type. Then, it seemed to click. He grinned at Annabeth, then at Nico.

Nico shifted uncomfortably. “Who—who is it?”

Annabeth looked over his shoulder again. “Will.”

Percy’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open as he turned to her. “Solace?”

She nodded and a mischievous glint appeared in Percy’s eyes that made Nico sort of understand the troublemaker thing. Then he realized that the same glint was mirrored in Annabeth’s and he understood their dynamic a whole lot better.

“He is cute!” Percy exclaimed. “So cute!”

“And he’s been watching us this whole time,” Annabeth pointed out.

Percy rubbed his hands together. “Has he?”

“Well, maybe not us.” Annabeth’s eyes flicked to Nico. “Maybe just Nico.”

“Guys—“ Nico said. “It’s not like that. He just wants my help in the infirmary.”

“Ooooh,” Percy drew out the word and waggled his eyebrows. “He wants your help in the infirmary.”

Nico’s cheeks felt hot. They were probably as red as Percy’s had been a few minutes before.

“I don’t know what that means,” he muttered.

The two of them exchanged grins—evil grins, that’s what they were.

“So,” Annabeth prompted. “What do you think of him?”

His cheeks felt even hotter somehow. He ducked his head so they wouldn’t see, but it was probably too late.

“I—uh,” he spluttered. “Um.”

The mischievous glints intensified tenfold, the evil grins widened.

Percy glanced at Annabeth. “That means he likes him, right?”

She nodded.

“I’m getting better at this,” he said.

Annabeth shared a knowing look with Nico that said no, he definitely isn’t.

“I think I’m going to talk to him,” Percy said, drifting in that direction.

Nico stared at him in horror. “What? What are you going to say?”

He shrugged. “Just how cool and badass my friend is. You know, reuniting the Roman and Greek camps, battling giants, surviving Tartarus and a jar, wielding that staff of Die—whatever.”

“Diocletian,” Annabeth supplied.

Percy pointed at her. “That’s the one. Yeah, I’m definitely going to talk to him.”

“Percy,” Nico tried. “Don’t.”

He took off without another word, jogging up the hill. Nico followed at his heels, shouting for him to stop. He didn’t really mean it though and based on the way Percy kept grinning over his shoulder, he could tell.

Nico was running into what would probably shape up to be the most embarrassing moment of his life, but somehow each step he took felt lighter than the last.