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Latest Posts by njkhis - Page 3
personally I think we should combine the states of texas and florida just as a social experiment
lucky charms, chapter 4
The Twilight Zone
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
People came easily to Luke.
That was not to say people generally liked him, necessarily. Some would say he had his father’s charm and his mother’s once beautiful features, and that was why he’d always attracted a crowd, but Luke hadn’t been his parents’ son in a long while. He was every bit the thief his father was and, like his mother, could see far past what was presented, but everything he’d built for himself had been from the ground up.
Even by demigod standards, Luke was the son of one of the lamest gods in Olympus- he wasn’t great with his hands like Annabeth, and he definitely couldn’t control lightning the way Thalia could. All Luke had was people. He could tell, for the most part, what buttons to push to upset, to anger, to flatter, to confuse; that was Luke’s talent. He was a pickpocket, a sleight of hand artist, and like most cynical, petty crooks, nothing slipped past him.
Luke understood how people worked. Understood what the flutter of an eyelid or a trembling lip meant, understood just how much tension in the brow separated grief and aggression. Above all, Luke understood that people were always exactly as they were not- playing a game of charades against the rest of the world as though that might protect them, in some way, from her jagged edges.
He’d always been too clever for his own good.
Read more on AO3
the anatomy of a hurricane
read on ao3
or
part i: disturbance
The day they tell her the plan, Clarisse thinks it’s a joke. She actually barks out a laugh. But that was before. Before she notices how Chiron is shifting on his back hooves. That’s before she looks over at Annabeth and sees the way she’s staring pointedly at the opposite wall. That was before Athena and Hermes shimmer into the Big House.
She’s not laughing anymore.
Annabeth’s got this almost manic look in her eyes, and she’s gesticulating wildly about how ‘this is the only way’ and ‘it actually gives us a fighting chance.’ How ‘my mother is right,’ and ‘we’d be saving so many lives.’
But Clarisse knows all of it’s bullshit.
Annabeth may believe every reason she’s spouting about saving campers and preventing an all out war, but that’s not why she’s agreed to do this. She’s agreed because on the off chance everything goes right, she can save them both.
The prophecy will come true in a different way, and no one has to actually die.
Keep reading
28, gimmie your hand
sequel to this photographer percy au
When Percy took pictures of Annabeth before they started dating, she could never tell if he was looking at her through the lens of artist or lover. Now, she’s beginning to think it’s the same thing. There’s a delicacy to his gaze, as though his smile is meant both for Annabeth and the light shining on her. His taking a picture so often looks like gratitude, like the fear of forgetting his luck in a moment so blissful. And he immortalizes her on film, takes his care to capture and develop her image. It is no small thing, being a muse.
She envies it, sometimes. Percy gets to show Annabeth and the world exactly how he sees her, while she is left with her words, which can only ever fall short. He captures time and frames her suspended in the golden glow of sunlight, he makes her laugh moments before the flash, and he does not believe in bad photos. He photographs her bedhead, her soft stomach, her bent posture, and her chewed fingernails. He photographs her genuine laugh, her pouted lips, her pensive expression, her golden curls. Annabeth has never liked the sharp upturn of her nose, but Percy photographs her profile with such care that she can’t help but soften to it.
They’re at the beach for what feels like the last warm day of September. The Atlantic ocean is too vast to be swayed by the local weather, so they stay on the sand until they need to cool off. Percy’s camera is buried in their beach bag as they soak up the day—not every moment needs to be captured. Sometimes happiness demands to be fleeting. Nostalgia wouldn’t be as powerful if Annabeth could remember exactly how many freckles the sun kissed into Percy’s cheeks today. The longing comes from the fear of forgetting.
Sunset brings a gentle chill and sends Annabeth into Percy’s side. He pulls her bare legs into his lap and rubs his hands up and down them. It only works for a few seconds, but she’ll take any excuse to keep his hands on her. (She thinks he will too.)
One of the best parts about being in a relationship, she thinks, is not needing an excuse. There is an agreement between them that says you can touch me. I am trusting you to handle me at my best and my worst. I think that’s love. Please touch me.
Annabeth shifts her weight and straddles her boyfriend in a way that’s a bit indecent for a public beach, but the closest people are specs on the horizon and Percy is leaning back on his palms, his face to the orange sky and throat exposed. His skin looks golden, dripping in sunlight like honey, and Annabeth watches his Adam’s apple bob as she tastes. Even his smile is sweet. Annabeth is not an artist, but sometimes loving him makes her rethink that.
“Baby,” he whispers, and Annabeth opens her eyes to him chewing his lip. “You know the last thing I ever want to do is stop making out with my beautiful girlfriend on the beach, but...” He juts his chin to the sun, then to her general face. “I‘ll kick myself if I don’t get this.”
Annabeth pretends to roll her eyes as he lays back on the beach blanket with his camera in hand, but the way he looks at her is too profound for her to do much else. She’s always loved the way he looks at the world, though it wasn’t until recently that she discovered she likes the way he looks at her more. All that wonder, all that love, plus a surety that is so rare on him. There is the boyish boldness that makes her want to strangle and kiss him, plus the sly cockiness that has her leaning toward the former, but that gleam in his eyes cannot compare to this glimmer. His fingers slide along her chin, angling her kindly from the harsh angle he captures her at.
She chuckles, gestures to his hand. “We wouldn’t get anywhere without this. Piper says I can’t pose for any camera you’re not behind.”
Percy pokes her in the side quickly, snapping a photo when she laughs. “That’s because Piper is a terrible photographer.”
“I’m sure she’d love to hear that.”
“I’m just saying, it’s more than landscapes and lighting. If you’re taking pictures of people, you should try to capture something real. Something human.”
“Her Instagram feed is very focused on humanity.”
She said it to rile him up—passionate Percy is one of her favorite versions of the boy she loves. She’s snuck more than a few photos of her own during a long-winded rant about camera lenses and color editing.
But this passion is quieter than what Annabeth is used to. Honest. Soft. Percy rests the camera on his chest and trails his fingers from Annabeth’s wrist to her elbow, his eyes following the slow migration.
“I don’t always know why you’re looking at me the way you do. I think that’s why I picked up a camera in the first place—my mom looked at me like I was the best thing that ever happened to her, and I was scared that one day she’d come to her senses. I wanted to remember that face before it disappeared.” He doesn’t look at her. Can’t, maybe. “It’s been over a decade, and that look is still there. I guess now I take pictures to try and understand it. Because I don’t— I want—“
Annabeth takes hold of his wrist. It’s then that he looks at her, propped up on an elbow. He breathes.
“You look at me like I’m a good thing.” And he’s opening his mouth like there are more words he wants to say, but they won’t come.
Annabeth kisses him, sweet and soft and a bit desperate. The lens of the camera presses into her chest, and she slides it out of Percy’s grip as she presses a kiss to his nose, his forehead.
“Lay down for me,” she says. And, at his hesitation. “C’mon, Jackson. It’s hardly the first time I’ve had you on your back.”
That earns a laugh, which earns the first picture. The camera may be out of Annabeth’s league, but she’s seen Percy use this thing enough to know that the big black button is all she really needs for what she’s trying to do.
She says, “I love you,” says, “You’re everything to me,” and, “You are so beautiful,” for the sake of his smile. She sits a little lower in his lap and photographs the way his eyes darken, and his hands, still itching for the camera, busy themselves with her thighs. The sun is disappearing quickly, but Percy is glowing with the last of the New York summer. His skin is still damp from the kiss of the Atlantic, and Annabeth thinks that he was born to look like this. Love and light, gentle and summer-warm by the seaside. Percy Jackson summed up in a time, a place, a feeling.
And Annabeth isn’t great with words, but he needs to hear them.
“The sun is gonna set,” she leans in, throwing her shadow over his face, and sets the camera down, “and it’s gonna rise, again and again and again, and I am never gonna stop looking at you like this. Even if you never take my picture again.” She plants her hand over his shoulder to lean down. “You’re gonna spend your entire life by my side waiting for it to go away, and one day you’re going to forget to worry. Just like you help me forget to worry.”
And then he smiles a bit sideways, a dimple pressing into his cheek. “You proposing to me, Chase?”
She rolls her eyes, but smiles back. “As if you won’t know when I propose.”
Percy’s hands skim up her back, where the last of the light stretches over the horizon of her skin. “Not if I beat you to it.”
He pulls her down for a long kiss. When Annabeth comes up, it’s nearly dark out.
“I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to photograph your own wedding.”
“Yeah, well.” And he’s arching up for one last kiss before they have to leave, a comma on the page of this long day turned night. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”
Take it from someone who has been around the fandom block:
fanfiction.net is dying.
all the signs are there.
if you have no other record of any fics you have there… you might wanna… like… do something about that.
10 miles away from where the Derek chauvin trial is taking place, police murdered Daunte Wright, a Black man, today on April 11th. They then left his body on the ground for 6 hours. They pulled him over for having an air freshener obstructing his rear view mirror. This can't be reformed. Abolish the police
16. “Do you think the moon is jealous of how pretty you are?” love you and your writing!! ♡♡
[ichor group au]
“Do you think the moon is jealous of how pretty you are?” Percy whispers sweetly as he slips his arms around Annabeth’s waist, placing a kiss to her cheek.
Annabeth slides her hands on top of Percy’s, amazed at how warmth always seems to radiate off of him, and leans back into his arms. Gently, she leans her head into his and smiles as she notes how the light of the moon makes her engagement ring gleam.
“Why are you so good to me?” she asks, her voice quiet.
She feels him shrug before he answers. “How else do you treat the love of your life?”
Annabeth pulls Percy’s arms tighter around her middle, finding comfort in the steadiness of his touch. “I never thought I’d have this.”
“Well you do,” Percy says with confidence. “For always.”
Annabeth laughs as she turns around to face Percy, linking her hands around his neck as he links his at the small of her back.
“For always, huh?”
He nods, a childlike grin lighting up his face. “Yup. And there’s nothing you can do about it. Now answer the question.”
“What question?” she asks, playing dumb.
Percy doesn't waver. “Do you think the moon is jealous of how pretty you are?”
She looks at him, from the deep green of his eyes to the solid lines of his jaw and the perfect curve of his smile until she can’t help but kiss him on his perfectly soft lips. Pulling away, she feels her heart skip a beat at the way Percy’s long eyelashes flutter as he opens his eyes.
“Hmm,” she says pensively. “I guess to answer that I have to ask you a question of my own.”
“What’s that?” he says with a curious squint.
“Do you think the sun is jealous of how my world completely revolves around you?”
She can practically hear the air leave Percy’s lungs as he watches her with awe and reverence. Her gravitational force soon proves to be too strong, and there under the light of the full moon they transform into the sea and shore, crashing into each other with abandon.
47. “I’ve been in love with you for years.” 🥺
Percy Jackson is a coward.
Freezeframe, record scratch, backtrack to the beginnings of the bad decisions.
It all went south when Grover threw up. Drunk out of their minds and poor from a long night of bar hopping, the gang piles into an Uber that’s two spots too small to head back to Percy and Grover’s apartment. Grover takes the front seat while Percy and Annabeth are crammed in the backseat behind him—and yes, that’s the same one person seat, because Beckendorf, Silena, and Clarisse are stuffed next to them. Percy curses the Stolls and Katie for living within walking distance of downtown and wonders if anyone will Venmo him back for the Uber.
If Grover doesn’t get them kicked to the curb, that is. Annabeth shifts in Percy’s lap to hold their friend’s head upright before he can pitch forward on a hard break. Percy tightens his arm around her waist in lieu of a seatbelt. Only a few more miles until they’re home free.
Clarisse is giving Grover a passionate and profane pep talk from her middle seat when Percy looks her way, and Silena and Beckendorf look like they’re trying to swallow each other on her other side. He buries his face between Annabeth’s shoulder blades and groans. His five star passenger rating is going down in flames.
“Hey,” Annabeth pinches his arm. “Don’t you go giving out on me too, Jackson. We still have to go up three flights of stairs and I carried Grover last time.”
“I carried Grover last time.”
“You carried Connor. Now listen up, we’re almost there and I have a plan.”
“Oh god, she has a plan.”
“Shut up. You love my plans.”
“Whatever you say, captain.”
“Grover is going to puke as soon as we stop, so I’m going to run and open his door. I need you to push him out of the car the second I’m out.”
“And if you don’t make it?”
“I’m gonna make it.”
The car stops and abruptly ends the argument. Annabeth flies out her door and Percy shoves Grover forward by the shoulders just as he yells about puking. Never bet against Annabeth, or something like that. Grover tumbles onto the sidewalk without leaving a mark in the Uber.
Instead he throws up on Annabeth.
The only sound is Clarisse cackling as Percy wrestles his way out of the car. Grover starts crying while Annabeth sits there, covered in vomit and a look of shock.
He presses his keys into her hand. “You go shower, and I’ll be up there soon with—” The Uber driver starts yelling at Clarisse. “Hang on.”
He pulls the other three out of the backseat before anything else can go wrong. The Uber speeds away the moment the door closes.
Annabeth pulls Grover to his feet. “You’ll lose Silena and Beckendorf if you try it alone, and I really don’t want to bail anyone out for indecent exposure in the morning. Take Grover before I strangle him.”
Percy knows better than to question Annabeth when she’s got that fierce look in her eye, so he hoists Grover over his shoulder without the usual sideways comment. “Once is enough, buddy,” he says quietly, hoping Grover doesn’t puke down his back.
Annabeth leads the way up the stairs, holding Clarisse’s hand and pausing every ten steps to shoo Silena and Beckendorf forward. She’s right, as always: Percy would’ve lost them. But Annabeth handles it with her shoulders squared and her expression fiery, making Percy glad once more that he’s as close to sober as he is. It’s so easy to get dumbstruck looking at her, even when her makeup is smudged and she’s covered in their best friend’s vomit. No matter the circumstances, Percy will always find her beautiful.
By the time he dumps Grover in his own bed, the lovebirds have claimed the couch and the shower is running. Just as the panic of missing Clarisse strikes, Percy hears Annabeth curse at her from the bathroom.
“Percy!” she yells.
Then Clarisse. “Yeah, c’mere Twinkle Toes.”
“Shut up.”
He raps his knuckles against the door. The shower is running. “You okay?”
The door opens wide enough for Annabeth’s face. “Could you grab me some clothes? I think I left some last time I spent the night.”
Clarisse coos. “Spent the night, huh?”
There’s a thud, a curse, and Annabeth nearly slips as she presumably kicks Clarisse. She catches herself just as her bare shoulder comes into view.
Percy clears his throat. “Uh, yeah. No problem.”
He retreats to his room and grabs an old sweatshirt and pair of plaid pants for her. She definitely left something of her own the last several times she came over, but sue Percy for enjoying the sight of her in his clothes.
Clarisse answers the door looking suspiciously like she’s been sprayed by the showerhead. “Do us all a favor,” she hisses, “and tell her how you feel. How long has it been, anyway? Silena owes me money if I’m right.”
Percy waves her off and tosses the clothes in her face, but once everyone has gone to bed and Annabeth is asleep and smelling like his own bodywash on the other side of his bed, he faces the truth.
He is a coward harboring a secret truth that shines like sunlight, one that can only be faced alone at night because it’s so blinding.
“I’ve been in love with you for years,” he whispers, watching her chest rise slowly in the moonlight.
And then her breath catches, her eyelashes flutter, and Percy is an idiot caught in her headlights.
She doesn’t move, just swallows deeply and says, “Say that again.”
“I thought you were asleep.”
“Percy, please.”
The please and the fact that she hasn’t run out of the room are the only reasons he’s able to repeat himself.
“How drunk are you?” She sounds small, unsure, and entirely unlike herself.
He props himself up on his elbow and nearly reaches for her. “Completely sober.”
And then she’s rolling them over faster than Percy can process, and he would want to slow down this moment if her lips weren’t on his with a fervor he’s only dreamed of. The world is blindingly bright in the midnight morning; the sun isn’t out, but it might as well be.
Percy says “I love you,” against her mouth, and he thinks maybe he could be brave for her. If being brave means a lifetime of this, he’ll never take the coward’s way out again.
4. “You’re not exactly known for your great ideas", 43. “Do you believe in fairytales?” & 33. “This definitely has the potential to be catastrophic" please 😘😘😘
this is for u babie. inside jokes ONLY <3
Every great director takes an acting class or two, Annabeth. Maybe performing on stage will help you connect better with your actors.
So that’s a big fucking lie.
If anything, Annabeth has even less patience for actors who struggle with direction. Her instructions are far clearer than this bumbling buffoon and he’s putting together a fairly coherent play. It makes no sense to her, then, that her direction is generally considered harsh and difficult across the school. If the acting students would just do as they’re told, they’d be signing photos of themselves for fans and she’d be on her way to Cannes right now. She’s an artist, god damn it, and she should be allowed some frustration when her idiotic cast insists on moving out of the frame or in front of the strobes despite a thousand blocking rehearsals. Honestly, if she were an actor on her own set, half her problems would be gone by now.
“Can we get Cinderella to centre stage?” The director calls and Annabeth stalks up to the centre, her arms crossed over her chest. “Great. Now, enter Prince Charming.”
Travis Stoll stumbles clumsily onto stage, wearing a goofy grin and a lopsided plastic crown, just as the director calls for the music to start. Travis is careful in the way he holds Annabeth’s waist- his palm rests just a little over her hipbone and his fingers spread out over the small of her back. His other hand holds hers so tenderly she almost can't believe he’s the same guy who, only ten minutes ago, knocked over the set department’s blue paint all across the stage.
“And action!”
Annabeth lets him lead her and marvels, a little, at ust how easily he twirls and dips and lifts her as they glide smoothly across the stage. They hit every spot that’s been blocked and somewhere overhead, she can hear the lighting crew scramble to keep up with them. Their director, some idiot called Matt Sloan, finally calls for them to cut and Travis drops her hands easily, taking a step away from her and breathing a little heavily. Annabeth finds herself doing the same thing- her cheeks feel hot under his gaze.
“Okay, that was great- Annabeth, you’re still a little faster than Travis so it looks like you’re leading him. Slow down. I’m going to have a chat with the sound team and we can take it from the stepsisters’ shoes scene, yeah?” Matt calls and Travis scratches the back of his neck, his cheeks a bright red.
She can’t bring herself to blame him, really; their waltz is the crux of the entire show. They’re expected to be light on their feet and heavy in their emotions and Annabeth appreciates that it is difficult for an actor to slip in and out of character. In this moment, she’s expected to be Annabeth- act, walk and talk like Annabeth Chase would- but her brain is still stuck in Cinderella’s- and she doesn’t mean it to be, but she’s a little bit in love with Travis Stoll right now. (She’ll kill you if you told anyone that.)
Read on AO3
Don’t Call It A Comeback • mob au
Annabeth sits at her desk that belonged to her mother before her and admires the intricate carvings that mark its edges. She smiles to herself, having missed the feeling of sitting behind it, reminded of the power that seems to emanate from its mahogany. Her hands are flat on its cool surface, as if asking it to forgive her for her absence. As she reacquaints herself with it, there is a gentle rap on the door, and she looks up to see Charles poke his head in.
“Hey boss,” he says with a sweet smile. “Can I come in?”
“Of course,” she says, leaning back in her chair.
“Saying hi to an old friend, I see,” he says with his usual charming smile.
“I missed her so much,” she says in a whiny tone. “I mean, my desk in Elysium is great, but this one… it’s special.”
Charles laughs as he sits down. “Well, once you two are done having your moment, can we talk about what you would like to do today?”
Annabeth takes a deep breath, leaning back in her chair and folding her hands in her lap. “This desk surely isn’t the only one who has been missing me these past few years.”
“Certainly not.”
“I figure I should… make the rounds. Say hi. Remind people who I am.”
“And why they stay in line,” Charles adds with a look of pride.
“Precisely.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Where would you like to start?”
continue on ao3
hey! i love your writing and got so excited when i saw you were taking prompts! can you do post tlo, pre hoo percabeth? bonus points if its percy comforting a touch starved annabeth. they just make me so soft <3
in which Percy and Annabeth are dating, and she doesn’t want to hold back,, percabeth,, did i do this right👀
Percy doesn’t think he’ll ever quite get used to calling Annabeth his girlfriend. Even after almost a month, he still gets excited whenever she slides her hand into his or presses a lingering kiss to his lips. His heart flutters with every glance she throws his way, and he thinks he loves her.
Girlfriend. It’s a welcome change.
He can’t seem to stop watching her all day. In the dining pavilion, he’s mesmerized by the way she looks, sitting at the Athena table. Her camp necklace rests perfectly against her throat, and he can see the coral pendant he’d given her that makes him feel a rush of warmth within him.
Percy desperately wishes they were anywhere but here — somewhere he can pull her in close and hold her just because he can. It’s not until much later that day that they get the chance to be alone. The sun has already gone down hours before, and the campers are all inside of their cabins. They’re not technically supposed to be out, but harpies have never particularly scared Annabeth, and Percy’s not about to complain about one of the only times he gets to see his girlfriend alone.
The door to his cabin opens silently, but he catches the movement anyways. When his girlfriend appears in front of the door, invisibility cap in hand, a smile morphs onto his face because somehow, she looks impossibly better with the moonlight shining in, lighting up the curves of her face, reflecting against her blonde curls.
“Hi,” Percy says gently when he doesn’t move any closer. He holds a hand out towards her, and she takes it this time, settling next to him on the bed. Her legs tuck underneath her as she faces him, and Percy moves a strand of hair in front of her face. “I missed you all day.”
“I’ve been with you all day,” she teases.
“You know what I mean,” he says, pulling her in for a kiss. It lingers for a few seconds, though it stays gentle and sweet. “We aren’t alone very often.”
“You know you can still kiss me, right? Even if we’re not alone?”
“Yeah, but…”
Annabeth raises an eyebrow playfully. “But…?”
“I get nervous,” he confides. There’s a hint of humor in his voice, but they both know there’s at least some truth to it. “I don’t want people thinking I kiss weird, or something.”
“Speaking as the person being kissed, I’d say you’re doing a great job.”
“You’re biased,” he chides. “You have to say that.”
“I’d tell you if you were a bad kisser,” she says, a wide smile. “I can’t be dating someone who thinks kissing is just mashing lips together.”
“Please never say that again.”
Annabeth giggles softly, and Percy feels a rush of warmth at the sound. He can tell she’s tired from the way she speaks slow and quiet, blinking her eyes languidly.
“You’re such a good kisser I wish you’d do it more often.”
Percy blinks at that. It’s an innocent statement, but something about the way she says it catches him off guard.
“What do you mean?”
Annabeth opens her mouth before shutting it just as quickly. “It’s nothing.”
“Tell me,” he pleads. Her entire demeanor shifts; he can sense the tension slowly rising in her shoulders, so he grabs her hand and pulls it into his lap. “Please?”
“It’s really not anything much,” she says again. “Today just kind of sucked. It was Silena’s birthday, and it’s like everyone forgot. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And then the war… I miss her, and all I wanted to do all day was come hug you and cry, except I couldn’t because…”
He thinks he knows what she’s about to say.
“Anyways,” she says, “I just missed you all day too. And I want to be able to hug and kiss you in front of other people. I don’t want to have to wait until we’re alone.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not anything you did,” she tells him, squeezing his hand. “I could have kissed you first, but I didn’t. I’m just saying that I want to be able to kiss my boyfriend whenever I want to.”
Percy grins. “Yeah?”
“Especially on days like today when all I want to do is cry.” “I’ll be sure to kiss you all the time from now on,” he says. “Starting right now.”
“Now?”
“It’s only, like, eleven. That’s a perfectly ordinary time to make out with your girlfriend.”
“I suppose,” she says, humored. “Though I think we can save some for tomorrow as well.”
“No PDA?”
“That’s exactly my point. We aren’t displaying any public affection if we just made out here.”
“Oh, you nerd. Who gets into the semantics of PDA?”
“I do. We have to make sure we’re doing this right if we’re going to be that couple.” Annabeth still leans forwards for a short kiss despite her words.
“I like to think practice makes perfect.”
“Since when did you do perfect?”
“Ouch.”
Annabeth smiles widely but doesn’t respond. Instead, she shoves his shoulder hard so that he falls back onto the bed. She crawls over him before settling down right beside him, pressed tightly against his body.
Percy can’t say they’ve done much of this since they started dating either. It’s nice, though, being able to feel her safe against him after all that they’ve been through. He rubs up and down her back as she turns into him, pressing her face into his chest.
Annabeth’s body is warm against his. The moment is so intimate in the best way possible.
“I love you,” he whispers into her hair because it just feels right. He doesn’t need her to say it back now. It’s just how he feels, and he wants her to know that he is with her to the end.
He can feel the way she smiles into his skin. Her reciprocated I love you is so quiet he almost misses it, but he doesn’t.
They lay in silence for a while, Percy just holding her, and Percy almost thinks that she falls asleep when her breathing starts to settle. When she speaks, voice slow and drowsy, he smiles into the top of her head.
“Don’t you ever forget about me,” she says quietly. “It’ll kill me.”
Something about her voice pains him. He can tell there’s something else she wants to say – something else bothering her – but he can also tell that right now, she just needs someone to be with her, so that’s exactly what he does.
Annabeth isn’t something that can be forgotten, he thinks. She isn’t just a thought. She’s someone that makes him who he is. She is his tie to the mortal world. She’s in his heart, and nothing will ever change that.
Percy’s squeeze around her waist is a promise. “Never.”
Call me, Percy? valentine’s day edition. edit by sophii <3
This is Annabeth’s first Valentine’s day with Percy. Well, it’s actually their second, but it is the first one they will be spending together without anybody else and without having to be in school.
She has always celebrated previous ones with Hazel and Piper, going to Hazel’s mom’s restaurant and eating stupid amounts of food before watching rom coms in Hazel’s bedroom while they made themselves sick eating cookies and ice cream. She misses their love, misses being surrounded by and wrapped up in it on days like those, with chocolate smeared on cheeks and limbs crossed over underneath blankets. She hadn’t realised how much she would miss them until they were miles and miles away, making their own memories and futures just as she is.
She just misses them, is all.
“You got plans for the weekend?”
Annabeth looks over at her friend as they finish packing up from their lecture. “Percy’s coming down.”
“Right. You gonna go for dinner or something? That new italian restaurant in town is really good.”
They’re leaving the lecture hall now and Annabeth dodges a wild elbow which had been heading for her face. “Oh, um no. That’s not really our thing. We’re gonna go for a drive down the coast and probably get burgers or something.”
That earns a laugh. “Right. Y'all are cute.”
“Thank you, I think so too.”
Keep reading
Love me, won’t you: valentine’s day edition. edit by sophii <3
There’s a tree on the west side of the island, settled into a little copse where it can catch the last rays of sunlight as they settle over the ocean.
It’s Percy’s favourite place on the island. It’s in pretty tough competition with his yaya’s restaurant and the spring above the church and Icarus jump point where he got his first kiss from Annabeth. But this tree is pretty special because it’s where he spent many evenings of his adolescence laying with his girlfriend in stolen hours as they made out or did homework together or dreamed out loud about their futures together away from their imposing families. During that first summer, much to Grover’s chagrin, Percy had taken a penknife to the trunk of that tree and carved his and Annabeth’s initials there.
Five years later, he is happy to see the letters are still there.
“It’s not like they would go anywhere,” Annabeth argues, ever logical.
Percy shoves her. “Shut up, smart ass.”
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mob au • valentine’s day
Valentine’s Day has always been one of Percy’s favorite holidays. He loves love, and he doesn’t care who knows it, which is why Annabeth grows to take it so seriously. It never mattered much to her before he was in her life, but now that he is, all she ever wants to do is shower him with nice things. Valentine’s Day just happens to be the perfect excuse to do that.
Annabeth watches the slow rise and fall of Percy’s back, moving a finger to lightly trace his name across his smooth skin. She reaches J and he begins to stir, groaning as he lazily rolls himself onto his back.
He stretches his arms above his head, palms flat against the headboard. “Morning, baby,” he says as he turns to look at her.
“Morning, baby,” she says back, perfectly content to keep watching him. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
Percy smiles from ear to ear, diving forward to place a kiss to Annabeth’s cheek and neck. “Happy Valentine’s Day, my love.”
He pulls away but Annabeth chases his lips, her fingers finding his chin to keep him close. She immediately deepens the kiss, fighting off her smile and Percy’s hand lands on her hip.
“You drive me crazy,” she says against his lips.
“Trust me, that’s a two way street,” he says, placing another quick kiss to her lips. “You been up long?”
Annabeth turns to her nightstand to take a quick look at her phone. “A couple hours, but that’s only because I had to get your present ready.”
Percy raises his eyebrows, his eyes shining with curiosity. “Is that so?”
“Mhmm,” Annabeth confirms, biting her bottom lip. “Wanna see it?”
Percy’s eyes glance down at Annabeth’s bare legs, then back. “Always.”
Annabeth cackles, and shakes her head. “That part of your gift is for later. I am talking about part one.”
“I get multiple gifts?” he asks with surprise.
Annabeth runs a hand through the hair that hands in Percy’s face, gently running a finger down past his ear and along his jaw. “Of course you do. Only the best for my valentine.”
Percy tears down the stairs, so excited that he forgoes his usual ride down the bannister. Annabeth follows at a more relaxed pace, tying her black silk robe a little tighter as she reaches the bottom stair.
“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Percy yells from the living room, and Annabeth smiles wide with satisfaction.
She rounds the corner to find Percy sitting on the floor as two puppies, each with a red ribbon tied to their collar, attack him with kisses.
“YOU GOT US PUPPIES!” he shouts as he looks up at her with tears in his eyes.
Annabeth sits on her shins across from Percy, drawing the attention of the Newfoundland puppy who toddles over to her clumsily. “Are you happy?”
Percy swoops the other puppy into his arms, kissing its head as he nuzzles it. “So happy it’s stupid. But you always make me feel that way.”
Annabeth blushes as she bends down to place a kiss on the Newfoundland’s head. “Would you look at that. Another two way street.”
A few hours later, the pair sit out on a giant picnic blanket in the backyard with a spread of food prepared by Percy as the puppies explore their new territory. Percy lays with his head in Annabeth’s lap, a goofy smile spread across his face as Annabeth plays with his hair. He laughs his way through a story about his and Grover’s middle school days, and Annabeth traces the laugh lines that form at the corners of his eyes. With the sun shining down, his green eyes sparkle like the harbor on a calm summer’s day, and while she has never been a big fan of Valentine’s Day, with a Valentine like Percy Jackson she finds it hard to not relish in the joy of the holiday.
“Will you be my valentine forever?” she asks, her hand resting over his heart.
Percy’s smile somehow grows even wider. “Like you even have to ask.”
She bends down to place a kiss to his forehead but he grunts in protest.
“You missed,” he says with a pout, and points to his lips.
Annabeth smiles and happily complies, kissing his ridiculously soft lips. She pulls up and laughs as, with perfect timing, both puppies appear and launch themselves onto Percy, coming after her next.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Percy,” she says in a daze of happiness.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Annabeth.”
and they were roommates (chapter ten)
The waiting goes easier than Annabeth thought it would.
That being said, the week itself isn’t easy. Annabeth takes five midterms in three days, which should be illegal. She spends her days in the cafe with Piper, the library with Jason, or laying on the floor of the apartment like a starfish. If Annabeth’s limbs could regrow, she would chop one off to get some extra study time. That being said, she is not a starfish, just a college kid laying on the linoleum floor and seriously contemplating dropping out and making a living by selling non-vital organs. People don’t need both of their kidneys, right?
In the end, Annabeth makes it through midterms with both her kidneys and far less panic than last semester. Though really she should thank fall midterms for being so horrible. If she hadn’t broken down then, who knows how long it would’ve taken her to realize her feelings for Percy.
States is a two-day affair, meaning that Saturday is put on hold while Percy competes in the preliminary heats. Thankfully, the meet is right outside the city, so he isn’t holed up in a hotel for the night. Annabeth and Grover, who is staying with them for the weekend, beat Percy home after the day of spectating and smile as he trudges through the door. He may not compete in many events, but the day drags on in a way that invites weariness into even the most rested of bodies.
After Grover claps Percy on the back and heads to the bathroom, Percy collapses face-first into the couch where Annabeth is sprawled, his face tucking into the crook of her neck. A content sigh tickles her skin, and she nearly shoves him off for it. But he winces as his shoulders relax, making his breath hitch in a way that’s honestly illegal for him to do above her when there’s nothing she can do about it.
“Uh, guys.” Grover stands in the hallway, covering his eyes. “I would like to remind you that this is my bed for the night.”
Percy chuckles, the warm air on Annabeth’s neck making her squirm. “You’re welcome to get in on this, bud.”
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Do a percabeth someone great au but blease make it happy in the end I am so fragile
ask and ye shall receive xx happy ending still to be written
Their story begins at the end, and their end began like this:
“I got the job.”
The words were somewhat garbled and blurted out with her head in her hands and there was a pause long enough that Annabeth had to peek through her fingers. Percy blinked back at her, mouth open and fork full of pasta forgotten mid-air. He set it down and his face broke into a massive grin and in retrospect, maybe she should have paid more mind to the beat in between. He reached out and took her hands and leaned over their table and kissed her on the lips and he looked happy for her when he said:
“Congratulations, gorgeous. I’m so proud of you.”
Their end began when they clinked their wine glasses and held hands on the walk back to their apartment and chose not to ask the question. The end began when she noticed the tension in his brow and chose not to let it bother her on a day when she’d received exciting news. Their end began when he listened to her talk and chose not to pay mind to the places on this earth that she would go that were too far for him to follow. Their end began when they stoked the flames that would set them ablaze and called it hearth.
Later, he’d push her up against their front door and press his chest to hers and cling on to her a little bit tighter than he normally would and she’ll pretend not to feel it. Her lips will hold his more desperately and the impressions of her nails will last on the skin of his back a little longer and she’ll cover up the purple bruises on her neck and he’ll pretend not to see it. And then, when she curls up into his side and rests her head on his chest, when the rhythm of his heart beats under her palm, when the end seems inevitable, they’ll look the other way.
Cowards, the both of them.
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angst, 11, “why are you still fighting?” 😢
[canon adjacent I guess, I don’t really know]
The enemy encircles Percy, who is on his knees, bloody and beaten. Demigods and monsters alike sneer and spit at him, calling him every awful thing they can think of. The son of Poseidon doesn’t move. He keeps his chin held high and looks forward, still gripping his sword in his hand, as if waiting for one last battle to begin.
Before him, the crowd begins to part, and soon the prodigal son of Hermes appears in front of him. Luke’s stride is slow and confident, with his sword sheathed at his hip. He looks down his nose at Percy, an evil smirk pinning the corner of his mouth to his cheek.
“Well, Percy, I tried to warn you that it would come to this,” Luke says as he stands over Percy.
Percy takes a shaky breath, his grip on Riptide tightening. “I’ve never been great at listening.”
“How many of your friends have you watched die?” Luke asks, pity in his voice.
“Too many,” Percy answers, his voice hoarse.
“And how many more would you watch die before you just surrender?”
Percy’s jaw tightens and he swallows hard, his green eyes losing focus.
Luke surges forward to bend down and grab fistfuls of Percy’s shirt. “Why are you still fighting?” Luke shouts in his face.
Percy lets out a small laugh, but a tear runs down his cheek. “Because being angry isn’t enough for me,” he answers.
Luke pushes Percy away with a frustrated grunt, his face contorting in disgust. “You think I wanted any of this?”
“I think you want all of it,” Percy replies. “You want to see everything burn because you’ve convinced yourself that once it does, you’ll finally feel peace. But the thing about fire, Luke, is that it’s never satisfied.”
Luke scoffs. “Don’t tell me, son of Poseidon, that you’re using that corny metaphor to tell me you’re here to put the fire out.”
Percy smiles, and his green eyes shine in the light of the torches his enemies bare all around him. “That’s a little corny, even for me,” he admits. “No, I’m… I’m here to make things right, finally.”
“And how are you gonna do that?”
Percy looks down at his sword, tilting his head curiously. “We started this together. It only seems right we end it together.”
The crowd around them becomes quiet and tense, as nervous murmurs begin to replace overconfident cheers.
Luke draws his sword and twirls it in his hand. “You never could beat me in a sword fight.”
Percy smiles again, and, still kneeling, places Riptide’s point on the ground in front of him. “I came close a few times, though, didn’t I?”
“There’s no ocean for miles, Percy,” Luke taunts. “There’s no way for you to heal. I’m afraid close to beating me is all you’ll ever get.”
“Pop quiz, Luke.” Percy says, raising Riptide just above his head. “When my dad’s obnoxious titles get rattled off, what’s the first one people say?”
Luke only has a minute to register the question, answering under his breath. “Earthshaker.”
Percy drives his sword’s tip into the earth,
and the ground
around them
c r u m b l e s.
PULLING YOU IN FOR A KISS WITH A SCARF
The night is warm. Annabeth’s cheeks heat with the flush of wine—by now they likely match the red of her Christmas sweater, a thick turtleneck that tickles her jaw. Charles stokes the flames at the fireplace for the first time in the new house, filling the room with the smell of oak and cedar and replacing the smell of dinner lingering in the air. An earnest Rachel chirps over Charles’ shoulder about how to interpret and “read” the flame, which he indulges with the silent amusement only he possesses. Katie and Travis are in a playful argument that will culminate in a kiss any minute, Grover is passing out hot cocoa (with extra marshmallows for Annabeth), and the others are screeching an off-key rendition of “All I Want For Christmas Is You”, which is particularly remarkable when you consider Clarisse singing along with her spiked cider raised high.
Most importantly, warmth emanates from under her where Percy sits with his arm around her waist and a soft smile on his face. He looks so serene, taken out of the moment the way one does in a flash of sudden clarity that they are currently creating a memory they will long to come back to, looking through the lens of nostalgia for a moment they are still in. Somehow Annabeth is in that moment with him, watching their friends through grainy film and hearing them as though the audio plays in the next room over. Everything is muted, glossy, and so so warm.
Percy comes back to himself and presses his lips to Annabeth’s cheek, smiling against the heat of her skin. His hand lifts from her hip to point at the reckless carolers supporting each other with firm embraces and shaky harmonies. “They’re idiots,” he says, but he says it with that smile and it sounds an awful lot like I love them.
“Yeah,” she sighs. “They really are.”
Later in the night once the idiots have been rounded up and herded out the door, Annabeth pauses in the foyer to watch them stumble gleefully, fighting over who gets shotgun in Juniper’s car (Grover) and who gets stuck in the middle seat (Connor). Snow falls softly and settles on Rachel’s curls as she tugs Clarisse’s beanie over her buzz cut and past her eyes, cackling alongside Castor and Pollux and the rest of the gang. Laughter and clinking glass echo from the kitchen where Silena and Beckendorf stayed behind.
The city is cold but the world is warm and full of people Annabeth loves, and therefore it is full of meaning. She turns to Percy, her coat rustling with the movement, and tries to hang on to this warmth, to the man who brought so much of it into her life.
She says, “Thank you,” and it sounds like I love you. It sounds like I love you and it means I love you but there is wine in her system and she’s two seconds away from crying after drinking on an ordinary day with less emotions. If he asks her, she’ll blame the wine and the holidays.
But Percy doesn’t ask her. He finishes pulling on his scarf and coat and looks at her, just looks at her, patient and understanding and in love, the way he has looked at her for the past ten years of their life. Annabeth marvels at her ability to bask in the familiarity of this love. She knows the details of him better than anything; he is the one portrait she can sketch from memory, a monument to permanence in her heart, and still her gaze catches on his freckles even in the winter months when there is no sun to change them. Just in case she misses one.
So she knows he will respond, “Of course,” in that soft tone of his, and she’s ready when his arms wrap around her bundled body. This man, her life partner who drives her crazy in the most maddening and romantic of ways, has given her more than she could ever hope to repay, and he loves her anyway. When her mind plays tricks and plants seeds of doubt, he reassures her. He shows up. Every single time, he shows up.
Their friends are long since corralled by their designated drivers, leaving Percy and Annabeth in the headlights. She pulls him in by the scarf, and they don’t say anything, but it sounds like I love you. Thank you for bringing me in from the cold. Thank you for bringing me home.
JUSTICE FOR CASEY GOODSON
On December 4th, 2020, Casey Christian Goodson Jr. (23 years old) was shot three times in the back and murdered by a Sheriff’s Deputy as he was entering his home in Columbus, Ohio. Goodson’s family stated that he was returning home from a dentist appointment, holding a Subway sandwich, his face mask, and his keys, when he was shot.
Two days later, the Columbus Police Department made a statement alleging that James Meade, the deputy responsible for Goodson’s death, saw a man believed to be Goodson with a gun while driving. Meade then approached Goodson after he exited his car and walked home, where he was shot.
Hours after the shooting, the US Marshal for the Southern District of Ohio, Peter Tobin, confirmed that Goodson was not the fugitive they were searching for. However, Tobin also added that he believed that the shooting was justified, claiming that Goodson was shot after he refused to drop his “weapon.”
Yet another Black man murdered by the police.
DEMAND JUSTICE.
art credit: @alex.albadree on instagram
graphics credit: @worldawarenessassociation on instagram
I just wanted to say I absolutely love your Mob AU! Legit my favorite fanfiction ever. I was wondering if you were planning to write about how Annabeth and Beckendorf’s mothers met? I just think you created a very cool dynamic with those two and would love to know more 👁👁
thank you so much for sending this!!! your message gave me just the right amount of writer’s high and for that I am grateful lol this is for you 😘
“Don’t be nervous, Monica,” Dr. Delphi says as he nervously adjusts his suit jacket.
Monica looks plainly at her mentor for a moment and wonders if he’s self aware enough to know that he’s not exactly inspiring confidence. It only takes her half a second to know that he absolutely is not, and turns to stare up at the Pallas mansion, of which she has heard countless stories. “Why should I be nervous about meeting the youngest member of the hospital’s board? That’s definitely something that happens every day.”
The front door opens then, and a tall man with impossibly broad shoulders steps out. His blue eyes are so bright Monica feels as though they are cutting right through her. “Follow me.”
Monica glances at Dr. Delphi who winks encouragingly and is the first to follow the scary big man. She does her best to keep her eyes facing forward as they wind their way through the house to the backyard, which opens up before her like a lush green oasis. She feels her mouth drop open as she takes in the waterfall that gracefully cascades down into the pool, the tennis court that stands fenced off further in the distance, and what looks like a walking trail that disappears into a jungle-like copse.
“Ms. Pallas will be with you in a few minutes,” the man says, gesturing to a table covered in a white cloth surrounded by three seats that sits off to the side of the pool.
Monica and Dr. Delphi promptly sit, and the man leaves them alone, disappearing back into the house.
“Okay,” Dr. Delphi says, leaning onto the table and speaking softly. “Let Ms. Pallas lead the conversation, and don’t offer any information she’s not specifically asking for. Got it?”
Monica nods once, her mind racing as she tries to get her bearings. It’s not long before the sound of footsteps approaching rings out and shortly after, a woman with perfect posture, striking grey eyes, and brown hair pulled up into a neat bun is sitting across from her.
“Sorry to keep you both waiting,” she says, her eyes on her phone as she types. She looks up briefly, and holds out her hand across the table. “Athena Pallas.”
Monica pulls her shoulders back a bit, suddenly feeling self-conscious about her posture, as she reaches to take Athena’s hand. “Monica Beckendorf.”
continue on ao3
hey! so for those of you who didn’t already know, i currently live in Japan, where same-sex marriage is not yet legal. tomorrow afternoon, the Japanese Diet is having a hearing concerning same-sex marriage, and they’re “gauging interest” based on the viewership of the livestream. basically, if people don’t watch, they’ll just write off the issue as niche and avoid it for as long as possible.
i’m posting about this here because, for ~some reason~, the hearing is to start at 1pm. on a regular thursday. when people are at work.
so, for those of you who will be awake at 1pm JST on thursday the 26th of november, i ask you to please contribute to the youtube live viewer count. i’ll put the link in a reblog.
thanks in advance!
Please, signal boost this!
I’m from Peru and we’re in the middle of our worst crisis in years. Riot police are using bullets and teargas to disperse peaceful protesters.
“you didn’t need to do this” + any ship !!!
Percy tests the weight of the present Annabeth has just pressed into his hands, rolling it over to see if it’ll give any indication of what’s inside. Whatever it is must be held down as thoroughly as the wrapping paper, which is more scotch tape than decoration. A fresh breeze blows off the Atlantic, rustling the stray curls that hang from Annabeth’s twin braids. August smiles kindly on her as it always has, with sunlight dripping down the contours of her body. Summer doesn’t shine on anyone else quite as gracefully.
Annabeth’s hands fly out to cover Percy’s as he raises the present to his ear. “Maybe don’t shake it.”
Percy freezes, noting the way she worries her bottom lip. He’s known her to be many things over the years, and nervous isn’t often one of them. “Annabeth. What did you get me?”
“Open it and see for yourself.”
When the paper and tape give away, Percy holds a cardboard box with a picture of his dream camera on the front—a dream in the truest sense of the word, given that he’s never said it aloud due to the long odds of ever get his hands on one.
He must be silent for too long, because Annabeth shifts on the towel next to him. There’s still time for her to break composure and laugh, to tell him this is all a prank and tear open the box to reveal a gag gift on the inside.
Instead she says, “I don’t know much about photography, but my dad has some connections through his university and they said this was the best for land and sea, so it won’t fry like your old one.” The words come out hastily, stumbling over each other in their rush to escape.
Salt air whistles in Percy’s empty lungs. He doesn’t have the words for this—for her. “You didn’t need to do this.”
That straightens her spine with a flash of defiance that melts away the nervousness, igniting the righteous spark in her eyes that Percy loves. “No, but I wanted to.” She jabs her thumb between his furrowed brows. “Don’t give me that guilty look. It’s my money and I’m going to spend it on my favorite person if I want to, especially on his birthday.”
“You know I can’t accept this.”
“Would you buy it for yourself?”
“Annabeth.”
“Answer the question.”
“Yeah in like, five years. But I can’t—”
“Nope.” Annabeth scrambles upright, spraying Percy with sand. “You’ll have to catch me first.”
With that, she dashes down the shore without looking back. In a microcosm of the entire decade of their friendship, Percy grumbles and gives chase. The beach is empty, giving him peace of mind as he burrows the camera in their clothes before taking off.
Annabeth is too many strides ahead, her braids taunting Percy each time her feet strike the sand. Time moves slowly, suspended in the afterglow of a summer spent just like this, running after the girl too golden to be true.
Just as Percy starts to think it’s a hopeless pursuit, she veers into the water, stumbling through the waves and diving as soon as it’s deep enough. Percy plunges in after her, never more grateful for his years on the high school swim team than when he wraps an arm around her waist after a few strokes.
They’re still close enough to shore to stand, the water rising to their heaving chests which are mere inches apart. It’s just deep enough for Annabeth to struggle to keep her lips above the swell of the waves, so Percy keeps holding on. Aside from that, he doesn’t know what to do. He wasn’t expecting to catch her, let alone hold her.
Annabeth tilts her head westward. “Sun’s setting,” she notes, her ribcage swelling under Percy’s palms. “It’d make a good picture.”
Percy doesn’t have to look to know she’s right, though the shot he’s thinking is more portrait than landscape. The sky is alight with a palette of orange, pink, and yellow cast on the clouds, like the only grey thing allowed in this photograph are Annabeth’s eyes. Her face is smooth, an uninterrupted line of shadow cupping her cheekbone down to her neck. There is just as much to be said for her shadows as for her light—it’s the contrast with each that makes the other.
A particularly tall wave slaps their shoulders in an attempt to pull Annabeth away. Percy adjusts his grip and tugs her closer, one hand on the back of her thigh as her legs hook around his waist. Neither of them misses their simultaneous sharp inhale; they just can’t make out what it means.
Annabeth’s hands trace a brave path along Percy’s shoulders, collecting droplets of water with a light touch. “You can pay me back for it. One dollar a month.”
“Annabeth...that’s—”
“The rest of our lives? I know.” She runs her fingertips along the back of his neck with a smile glimmering like the sunlight on the waves. “That’s how long I’m hoping to keep you for.”
They come together slowly, creeping together as the sun kisses the horizon with the same soft touch. Waves part as they pass, looking to flow through space between them that no longer exists. Every inch of skin presses together, held in place by desperate hands dimpling the soft flesh underneath. All their lives have lead them toward this moment in one consistent arc across the sky, traveling west to finally collide.
Percy pulls back to take a mental snapshot, afraid of losing the memory of the the rise and fall of Annabeth’s chest against his and all the movement a camera cannot capture. Language does not leave much space in the brain for memory, and so it is the first thing to go as he takes her in.
“Perce,” she says, colored with a mix of vulnerable and smug only she could wear well. “I’m gonna need you to say something.”
“They’re all going to be of you.”
“What?”
“The pictures.” One of his hands leaves her thigh to flirt with the edge of her jaw, the ridge that divides light and shadow. He watches her through the new lens of new love and presses his smile into her skin with the same delicate touch of August. “They’re all going to be of you.”