#i DEFINITELY think about it almost day. definitely when im drawing the dead romans | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

imnotcameraready · 5 years

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chivalry is dead (12)

A/N: WE’VE REACHED!!!!!!!!!!!!! KISSES!!!! HELL YEAH—

there are also So many characters in this one y’all im so sorry to do this to you but also Suffer — since they’re not gonna be reoccurring, i’m adding a characters tag so y’all know what you’re getting into. also, i felt a liiiiittle bad with all the angst i was giving, so since chapters 12 and 13 happen simultaneously, y’all are getting the Softs for now :)

what, angst on the horizon? says who? ;)

Characters: Deceit, Patton, the Playwright, the Artist, the Bard, Sleep (Remy), Dad Guy, Teacher Guy

WARNINGS: bruises and black eyes, references to imprisonment, food/food mention — i dont think there's much in this chapter, but if i missed anything, please let me know!!

Words: 6961

Pairings: i’m so. so proud to announce. welcome to some Roceit, some Royality, a sliver of Moceit, and Dad Guy x Teacher Guy (the best ship, imho)

AO3 link!

MASTERPOST! <– look here!! for some of the series long warnings!! including sympathetic Deceit and cursing/swearing, both of which are heavily present here!

chivalry taglist: @starlightvirgil @forrestwyrm @daflangstlairde @marshmallow-the-panda @askthesnake @k9cat @patromlogil

general tag: @jemthebookworm

enjoy!!!! sorry for the long intro, and ilysm !! <3 <3 <3

This was very much not Deceit’s forte. He ran his hand through the Bard’s hair for the umpteenth time, shooting Patton a terrified expression. Patton was on the Bard’s other side, arms wrapped around his waist, head resting on his shoulder.

“You’re okay, Roman,” he whispered, again, “You’re okay.”

The trio had been standing in a weird multi-hug for nearly ten minutes, ever since the Thief absconded. Patton figured it’d be safer to stay with Deceit and the Bard; he was more accustomed to seeing Roman cry, sad to say, but it was still only a handful of times. He did know that Deceit was very much not equipped to handle situations like this, though, and, well. He didn’t exactly trust Deceit to not make things worse.

He wasn’t, though, so Patton was pretty happy. The Bard had even finished crying a few minutes ago. That wasn’t the issue. He just refused to let up from where he was pressed into Deceit’s chest, breathing slow and quiet.

It wasn’t like Deceit minded too much. It was a little annoying. Just a little. But it was also comforting. He tried his best to not look at Patton’s little glances, but Deceit knew his face was a little red. He didn’t want to let go of Roman. Not when he was this close, also comforted in his hold.

Despite Deceit’s strategy of letting go of his crush, he was almost falling faster. He pressed his lips to the Bard’s head and flicked his eyes up at Patton when he began talking again.

“You’re gonna be okay. We’ve just gotta get goin’ now.”

In all honesty?

The Bard had long since calmed down. He was now drunk on happiness. Yeah, sure, he was still really pissed off at the Thief, he’d ruined his make up, punched him in the face, made the Child cry, generally put a damper on the whole situation, but that was to be a problem for another day. The arms wrapped around his waist, the body he was snuggled into, the hand that was running through his hair, it all made him feel so secure. So loved.

He didn’t think Deceit was much of a physical person, but after this? The Bard would have to remember to go to the snake more often for cuddles.

He closed his eyes again and inhaled slowly.

Patton always smelt like cookies. Chocolate chip cookies and occasionally chai, depending on what he’d baked recently. Sometimes of just sugar.

Deceit smelt a little more just like a person, yeah, but the scent was carefully interlaced with hints of lavender and jasmine. Did Deceit wear cologne or something? Maybe he had a self-care routine. The Bard would also have to remember to have Roman ask Deceit if he wanted to do masks and manicures together.

The could just not follow the Thief. The Bard could invite Patton and Deceit to his home, hidden away amongst the pages of this story they’d written, watch a movie and bundle under some blankets together. He could just take the time and space to be content. He could take in the pleasures of life!

But, alas, it was curtains for those dreams.

“Alright, Padre, I’m good. I’m gucci,” the Bard murmured, “It’s just so nice to be held. King Cobra, honey, were you always this warm. And you’re so lovely, Patt-puff, I could fall asleep right here.”

Patton snorted, catching the briefest glimpse of Deceit’s bright red face. “You can have all the snuggles you want later, kiddo,” he patted the Bard’s chest again, “You just gotta—”

“Wait.”

The change was immediate. The Bard stood upright, pulling his face out of Deceit’s chest and turning his head around. “Someone’s singing.”

Patton and Deceit shared a confused frown. Faintly, they could hear a voice, far, far away, but growing louder.

“For years, I’ve roamed these empty halls~!”

“Yeah,” the Bard tapped Deceit’s back and pulled away, both other Sides letting go finally.

There was still mascara dried around his face, and the eye that’d been punched was swelling and angry red, but the Bard didn’t seem to care. Patton rubbed his arms, missing the warmth and scolding himself internally for wanting something so unrealistic. He nudged Deceit, who was grumbling and stretching his arms, and both looked up.

In the Bard’s hands was the ukulele, forgotten in the earlier argument, and he twirled it before lifting it to his chest. Strumming a few precise chords, he continued the song, like a bird returning a call.

“Why have a ballroom with no balls~!” he twirled in place and sprang toward the sound.

He sure seemed happier now. Patton smiled, watching him perform, and rested one of his hands on his cheek.

Roman was just so full of life, always. It was astounding.

Wait, the Bard was moving. Patton blinked, looking up to find Deceit watching the Bard, mesmerized as well.

….Ah.

So Deceit liked him, too?

That’d complicate things. Deceit and Roman were a little friendlier, and Patton definitely didn’t want to get in the way of anything, if it made them both happy. If there was anything. Of course there was something. Deceit and Roman were both so charming, how couldn’t there be something? That’d be like giving someone chocolate without the flowers on Valentines day!

“Finally they’re opening up the ga~ates~!”

Distantly, they heard someone echo the same line, getting closer. It was the Roman version of echolocation.

Oh. What if Deceit’s story about Roman and the pit was just a cover up for him being in Roman’s room? What if they’d been together?

Patton shook his head. Imagining worries like that was just gonna get his head spun in a tizzy. He chuckled to himself at his pun, though gained no mirth from it, and tugged Deceit’s hand.

“C’mon, we’ve gotta follow,” he said.

Deceit blinked, looking at Patton, then back at the Bard, who’d already dance-walked his way halfway down the street. “Ah, of course,” he hurried after the Bard, faster.

He didn’t want Patton to say anything about the staring and, frankly, Patton didn’t want to say anything either. Nor his own disappointment of missing them both.

“There’ll be actual, real-life people~”

The Bard strummed, twisting down a road, and Deceit and Patton followed.

They were probably being led to another Roman, since they could make out his voice as it grew louder. Were there any more Romans, though? Or, well, any new ones.

“It’ll be totally strange!”

The other singer was just behind a corner.

“Wow, am I so ready for this change~!”

“Will you cut it out! It’s bad enough we’re out in public,” the Artist grumbled, fiddling with the sleeves of his hoodie, “And now you’re drawing everyone’s attention.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, is my voice bothering you?” the Playwright shot back, bumping his hip against the Artist’s as he shouted, “‘Cause for the first time in forever~! There’ll be music, there’ll be light!”

Deceit and Patton blinked, watching the two bicker as they walked closer. Neither of them seemed very scared of the world around them; in fact, both were looking around at the scenery, as though noticing it for the first time. While the Artist was trying to hide, his hood up and everything, the Playwright was walking around with a coat slung over his shoulders and otherwise in the same outfit they’d seen him in the other day.

The Bard had stopped just around the bend, standing in the pathway and bouncing on his feet with an excited grin, as though waiting for them to notice him.

“Uh, yeah, a little. Shut up.”

“I, wh—” the Playwright’s singing screeched to a halt as he glared at the Artist. “How?!”

“Sounds too much like my voice.”

“We are the same person, you dunce, how—wait,” the Playwright looked up and squinted, “Oh, it’s Bard.”

The Bard struck a pose, pointing his ukulele into the sky like a sword. “It sure is! It’s been so long, Playwright, Artist!” he dashed forward, ignoring the Artist’s shouts of “NO” and the Playwright’s confused spluttering as he hugged both with his arms, “I’ve missed you both so dearly!”

He spun in a circle once before pulling away, smoothing their sides down with a hand. He then leaned forward and pecked their cheeks, one after another, shocking them both just enough that neither pointed out his black eye.

This again? It was much too high energy for Deceit, not as he had to study this...what, fifth Roman? Fourth? How many had he met, by now? Jesus, how many were there. He slunk back, behind Patton, letting the moral side do the talking.

“Good to see you again, Playwright! You too, Artist,” Patton smiled at the Artist, who flinched back and tugged the side of his hood.

Patton wasn’t about to bring up the fight from earlier that morning. The Child said, on their way out, that the Artist didn’t have much outside his art. Maybe it wasn’t good for him to be yelling at them, it was definitely upsetting. And Patton was definitely hurt. A little betrayed. A little confused. But that didn’t mean Patton would be angry. He didn’t hold grudges very well.

“Um,” the Artist looked down, twisting his foot against the cobblestone path. He couldn’t, in his right conscious, not apologize immediately. “Yeah. Dad, I just–I’m really sorry about this morning. I over reacted, and I shouldn’t have snapped at you and Logan and Child. I’m, uh, it was dumb. I’m sorry.”

There it was. Out in the open.

The Artist didn’t want his perfection at the expense of love.

A hand rested on his shoulder and he twitched. It felt almost numb, like television static. He looked up to see Patton smiling widely at him, almost beaming. “You’re not dumb for having your own boundaries and caring about what you make. Yeah, it was….” his smile faltered slightly, reminded of how terrified he’d been that the Artist would actually stab them with a palette knife, “I can’t say it’s okay. But thank you for apologizing, and I’m sorry Logan and I made you uncomfortable.”

….The Artist really hadn’t expected that. His cheeks tinged with a bit of a blush as he looked down again, still fiddling with his hood.

Patton always knew what to say.

“I don’t wanna just brush over this issue.”

The Artist closed his eyes and exhaled. Patton chuckled to himself, but watched the Artist closer. Um. Maybe he didn’t understand?

Patton didn’t want to actually offend him, not right after that apology.

“Get it? Like a paint br—”

“Patton. Darling. While I appreciate the sentiment, I must admit that our relationship is a,” the Artist opened one eye, a tiny smile growing, “Work in progress.”

The Bard and Patton both hooted, the Bard plucking his ukulele once. “Good one!” Patton patted the Artist’s shoulder, “Thought I was gonna start crying there for a second, but I’m glad that was a pun, too!”

“They’re ridiculous,” the Playwright murmured.

“He’s you,” Deceit gestured to the Artist, then to the Bard. “And so’s he.”

“My cross to bear, I suppose,” the Playwright said with a tired shrug.

They’d both stepped back when the Artist apologized, leaning on a wall and watching the scene. It felt like a personal moment of reflection, in all honesty. And they didn’t have the lack of apprehension that the Bard displayed, listening in and looking between the two.

Deceit exhaled, leaning back. So Patton was bonding with yet another figment. Big whoop. No water off his scales, no sir. He turned his head, lazily looking around

Hang on. Those men were guards.

Alarms blared in his head as he reached over to the Playwright. “Guards,” he hissed.

A quiet tongue click signified that the Playwright saw them. “Patton, Artist, Bard, we need to go,” he moved toward the group.

The Bard looked back, eyes widening as the guards began marching towards them. “Son of Hephaestus.”

The ukulele disappeared from his hands as he grabbed Patton with and the Artist with the other, tugging them along. The street was populated enough, characters and people walking around, but they were parting for the guards like a predator through a school of fish. Where were they supposed to run to? The Bard knew the city well enough, but all of the maneuvers he used to escape danger wouldn’t work with such a long procession. Not to mention that the Playwright and Artist had never been in the town. In an altercation, none of them would stand a chance; all the real fighters had left.

Patton winced. What were they gonna—

“Hey, babes, lookie here!”

“Oh, thank fucking Pollock,” the Artist breathed. “It’s our idiot.”

Patton and Deceit both snapped around, looking forward. There was Thomas. Not. Not Thomas. No, it was one of his characters, wearing a black leather jacket and a messenger bag, holding a half-full Starbucks venti cup with some unknown iced drink within. Somehow, the paper labeling him as “Sleep” was still firmly taped to his chest despite being held up by a single, half-inch piece of scotch tape. But, you know. Big mood.

He waved them forward again from the doorway he was standing in. “C’mon already, we don’t have all day,” Sleep chirped again, waving a little faster.

You know what? Deceit was going to question this one. He’d been through a lot, this past day. Roman wanted to play a medieval theme, but had random modern appliances strewn about? Yeah, he’d accept that. Virgil throttled him? Sure, yeah, that would happen, that was still within the last 24 hours.

But this?

“Hey, Sleepytime Tea,” the Bard hummed, pecking Sleep’s cheek as he ducked past. “Thank you for the rescue!”

Deceit pointed at Sleep. “That. Is. One of our characters.”

Patton grinned, holding his other hand and pulling him along. “Mhm! Child said they’re all around the Imagination. Ooh, I’m excited to meet him!”

Oh, yeah, that was super explanatory! That solved ALL of Deceit’s problems! That made total and complete sense!

“Sleep,” the Playwright greeted, nodding to him as he slipped past.

Deceit was going to go absolutely feral one of these days.

Sleep tilted his sunglasses and grabbed Deceit’s back. “Let’s go, girls, into the lil’ house.”

“Remy,” the Artist murmured, pulling Patton in.

Sleep nodded to him as well, shoving Deceit into the room and closing the door. He threw two locks, then spun around to lean his back against it.

All five of them watched, varying levels of panic on their faces, while Sleep took a long sip of his coffee. They could definitely hear the guards interrogating someone outside, so it wouldn’t be long until they were approached.

“Are we gonna—” the Bard began, only to be silenced by Sleep raising his hand.

He pulled the straw away from his lips and exhaled.

“Oh my God,” Deceit mumbled, “And I thought Roman was dramatic. Holy shit, you’re a character.”

“Oh, honey, you haven’t seen anything yet,” Sleep lowered his sunglasses and winked.

He fixed them, raising his drink to behind the group, further into the building. “Alright, lets go. You all, like, super do not want to run into those guys.”

Sleep led the way. The room they’d entered into was a large foyer, to a house but not. He led them down the hall, up some stairs, up some more stairs, and then out into a bridge connecting this building to the next.

The Playwright nudged the Bard, once they were out on the bridge, and pointed silently at his eye.

That was right, the black eye and smudged make up was still clear as day. He couldn’t be having that. The Bard nodded and pressed a hand to his face. The make up vanished, reappearing as though it’d never been smudged with his tears. Carefully, he also pressed onto the bruise, and the skin all sank back in and flattened out into regularity.

It was best to not show his damage. Bad enough that he’d cried in front of the other Sides. He wasn’t about to walk around with an actual wound. It would bruise over regardless, there wasn’t anything he could do about that, but Roman didn’t want them to see him as anything other than, well. That depended on the Roman. The Bard didn’t want them to see him as anything other than beautiful.

Patton and Deceit didn’t notice. That was fine, perfect on all three Romans’ accounts. They followed right behind Sleep, the other three trailing at the rear. They’d already seen most of the Imagination, having been there when it was built (though building and navigating were two different skills); for the other two, everything was starkly new, even Sleep.

The Imagination did have more structure than they’d seen the other day. Arches, bridges, buildings that looked more defined.

Something certainly changed in the world. Maybe it was the same thing that caused the Imagination to have a regular day/night cycle? Deceit pursed his lips and summoned his notebook again, jotting down some notes. A curious world indeed.

Meanwhile, Patton was just getting excited. It was Sleep! He was an older character than, well, Patton! Granted, Patton wasn’t exactly a character, that was more so the length of time he’d been in front of the camera. But he could still remember the day when Roman pitched him — a sassy Sue, dressed to the sassy nines and going out to fun sassy parties while getting no sleep whatsoever. Logan might have thought it was on the nose to just tape a piece of paper to his shirt, but, hey, it worked!

“You’re Sleep, right? It’s really nice to meet you,” Patton said, bounding a little closer.

Sleep glanced back at him with a small smile and waved two fingers, a lazy salute. “Right back at you, Patton. Heard you’re a ball of punny sunshine — that’s the Morali-tea, sis.”

Ah, well, his reputation precedes him. Patton laughed, holding the wall, and Sleep grinned. “That’s a good one!” he covered his mouth and rubbed his cheeks a little, continuing. “Where’re we headed? Ooh, and also, do you….have any other name? Than Sleep?”

“Nah, nowhere in particular,” Sleep waved his hand dismissively, “And kinda? Emile calls me Remy. So does the fandom.”

“I think the fandom coined that one,” Deceit said, “A pleasure as well, Remy.”

Sleep put up a peace sign in greetings. “Yep. If you wanna go by names, then it’s, like, definitely all good to call me Remy,” he shrugged. “Either works. What can ya do.”

What can you do indeed. “Alrighty, Remy, you didn’t answer my first question though! I don’t think we’re just going to nowhere,” Patton picked up the conversation again.

“Oh, that. Right now we’re just walking around until I get the all clear.”

“The all clear,” the Playwright repeated, eyebrow raised.

“Mhm,” Remy took another sip of his drink and shrugged, “There’s a Starbucks down the hall if you nerds wanna get drinks, too.”

He pointed down a hall and — wait, where in the blazes were they?! Deceit stopped focusing on Remy’s back and looked around.

At the moment, they were in what looked like it could be a church, with stained glass windows and a high vaulted ceiling, save for the fact that it had no pews and was more like a crossroads. Some people walked past, shuffling around in the sides. Some of them looked like Thomas, actually. Possibly characters from other vines? Not all of them were marked with signs so clear as Remy’s.

It seemed that the Starbucks idea had been shot down, because Remy shrugged and led them to the left. As soon as they turned, though, his phone buzzed.

“You’re in my world now, not your world~ And I’ve got friends on the o—” Remy held the phone up to his ear, “Hey, girl, what’s up?”

He held up his drink, stopping the rest of the entourage, and nodded his head. “Mhm. Sounds gucci, I’ll bring these bitches back ‘round. See you in five,” he hung up quick and slid his phone back into his pocket.

Remy pivoted on his heel, facing the group once more with a broad smile. All his dramatics really reminded Patton of Roman, which was making him kind of sad. He missed his energy.

The Bard’s hand nudged Patton’s subtly, and they laced their hands together while Remy began explaining. “That’s the signal, back around this way!”

“Wait, are we walking all the way back?” the Artist asked, anger mounting in his tone, “Remy, you can’t be serious. Can’t we go to Emile’s office or something?”

“Nah, nah, I’m dropping you all off somewhere else. Emile’s got appointments all day today, anyway,” Remy shrugged, “If you wanted to hang with him so bad, you shoulda left your house.”

The Playwright snickered behind a hand, and the Artist elbowed him in the side. “Now, now, no fighting,” Patton said, eager to break up another dispute before it began, “I’m glad you’re out now.”

To that, though, the Artist just pulled his hood tighter around his head and mumbled incoherently. That was okay, it diffused the tension! Better awkward silences and mumblings than any actual physical fighting.

He didn’t even want to think of the implications of the Thief punching the Bard. What was that, Roman punching himself? Why would he be so okay with that?

Like, Patton knew. He’d been upset with himself since they met with the Playwright at the very, very, very beginning. He should have known Roman was self-conscious. It wasn’t the best kept secret.

Agh, he promised himself that he wouldn’t think about it! They were going to get Roman back! It was going to be okay, gosh darned it!

“Patton,” Deceit’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts, “Come now.”

Deceit carefully touched Patton’s free hand, wrapping his fingers around Patton’s.

The Bard was right, Patton decided right then and there. Deceit was surprisingly warm.

Patton gave his hand a squeeze, turning to him with a smile. “Thanks,” his voice was quiet, just for the two of them.

Deceit, human-side-of-face lightly flushed, returned the smile. But why would Deceit be blushing at him? Patton’s mind trailed off, just as Remy stopped the group yet again.

“Alright, we’re he~ere!” he sang out the word “here,” throwing open a door.

The reaction was instantaneous.

Patton lifted a hand, pointing fingers directly with the man standing in the opposite doorway, holding two pizza boxes and wearing the same blue polo, grey sweater, and khaki pants that he usually donned. The man dropped the pizzas onto the table besides himself and pointed as well.

“Oh, fucking hell,” Deceit groaned.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” the Bard fist pumped into the air.

Dad Guy smiled first. “I think I need new prescriptions! You’ve got me seeing double!”

A laugh from the kitchen indicated that he wasn’t alone. Patton grinned back, shooting Dad Guy some finger guns. “You can try mine! My prescriptions are Patton-edly perfect!”

“Awh, c’mere kiddo, great to meet you!”

“‘Kiddo?’ Haven’t you felt my shirt? It’s all Dad material right here.”

“The only material you’re gonna need is some new material! Can’t go around reusing old jokes!”

“Well, an old man’s gotta have old jokes! Double the puns and double the Dad!”

Remy patted Deceit’s back and gave him a sympathetic shrug. “I’ve gotta dip, gotta meet with some other people around the town. You know, midday naps and all that. Good luck with that,” he gestured to the two dads, who were exchanging one liners back and forth.

Deceit only responded with a glare that begged for mercy.

Remy laughed.

The Playwright walked past Patton and Dad Guy, into where Teacher Guy was sitting at another table, a stack of papers beside him that needed hypothetical grading. There’d been too many people, too much going on in the past day. He needed someone who he could trust to be quiet if needed and, thankfully, Teacher Guy asked much fewer questions than Logan.

The Artist motioned for Deceit to follow him to the other table with the Bard, who was already opening the top-most pizza box and stealing a few slices. The trio actually stole the entire top box and slunk away to another room, just up some stairs, while the other four traded silence and puns. There was a balcony opposite of two doors, presumably bedrooms, and they sat outside on the ground, huddled around the large box of pizza.

It was probably lunch time. They didn’t have Logan to tell them that eating on a schedule was a vital part of setting one’s internal clock, so the only indicator that it was “lunch time” was the tinge of hunger in each of their stomachs.

“If this hasn’t been a day,” the Artist sighed.

“Oh, definitely. The Thief punched me earlier,” the Bard laughed a little before biting into a slice, talking through the food. “Y’ kn’w, ah d’n’t e’he’ i’.”

Deceit snorted, looking away and laughing into a hand while the Artist reprimanded him. “Oh my God, chew your fucking food.”

The Bard rolled his eyes and swallowed. “I mean, I didn’t expect it. To be honest, I always forget that the Thief’s a violent one.”

“I always remember. Ever since he glared at me ‘first time we formed, I’ve been a little iffy about him,” the Artist waved his third slice in a lazy shrug. “You’re lucky he doesn’t hate your guts.’

“Oh, you’re lucky that absolutely no one hates yours.”

“Really? Thief and Playwright always seem two strokes away from stabbing me.”

“That’s because they don’t understand art. I know they love you! And that’s why WE love each other, remember?” the Bard took a bite out of the Artist’s slice and ignored his offended huffs, “And Deceit! How are you feeling?”

Deceit blinked. He’d been taking in the conversation, trying to dissect the differences between every iteration of Roman.

The Artist and the Bard were an interesting pair. They seemed to be so similar, yet so distinctly different, what with the Artist being an introvert and the Bard more extroverted. The Artist working with physical mediums whereas the Bard performed. But those glaring differences seemed to mask differences in desire, intent — that’s what Deceit had to focus on.

“Hey, Bruce Banner, come back. We miss you,” the Bard patted his knee with a smile. “Are you feeling okay? This has probably been quite the journey, especially with how fast things’ve been happening.”

“Well,” Deceit should indulge the Romans, if only for a little, “It has been. I haven’t spent this much time with….any other. Sides. In a while.”

The Artist nodded sympathetically while the Bard blinked. He tilted his head. “Oh. I thought you and the Dark Sides...? You know? Worked together more.”

Deceit shrugged. He wasn’t revealing anything. “Perhaps we do. In that case, then, it’s the longest I’ve spent with such good company,” he smiled coyly at the Bard.

It took a few seconds, but once the Bard fully interpreted what he said, he flushed almost as bright as his waist sash. He giggled, running his hands through his hair and swaying from side to side.

The Artist beside him also turned red, but just squinted tiredly at Deceit. “C’mon, you don’t have to play us,” he grumbled quietly, “The Prince isn’t here.”

“I know Roman’s not just a prince, he’s much, much more,” Deceit leaned on his hand, resting his chin on it as he watched the Artist.

“Anyone’d know that. He’s an artist. A bard. Playwright, thief, dragon, damsel, child, he’s all of us. But he’s all still a big dumbass,” the Artist ran a hand through his hair, pursing his lips in frustration, “You don’t have to pretend to love us or anything.”

It was Deceit’s turn to be confused. He frowned, leaning back a little in contemplation. Here he thought he was being obvious. And while staying behind the guise of secrecy benefited him greatly, if it was upsetting Roman this much….“Do you really think everything that I say is insincere?”

“Well….” The Artist looked away, staring down the Bard, who was still a bubbly and flustered mess, “Yeah. ‘Course.”

….That did make a little sense. Deceit scooted closer to the Artist. “May I touch your face?” he asked, voice soft.

The Artist’s eyes flicked back up to him quickly before he looked down at the pizza box. There wasn’t any harm. And….he couldn’t say he didn’t want to be touched more. “Sure.”

Deceit lifted a hand to cup the Artist’s cheek, cradling his head as gently as he could. Unconsciously, the Artist leaned into it, exhaling slow as to not lose his self control.

This was….a dream. It had to be. Because Deceit had wished for this for so long, and he was very used to not getting what he wanted. He just had to keep it together.

“Roman, darling,” to that, even the Bard stopped swaying, listening to what Deceit said, “I can’t say I’m the most honest person, but I can promise you this is no lie.”

With that, he pressed a careful kiss to the Artist’s left temple. The Artist’s eyes went wide as saucers as he realized, with an incredible start, that Deceit. Had just kissed him. Deceit had just kissed him, one of the saddest versions of Roman in this miserable little game.

The Bard covered his mouth with both hands, but even that couldn’t hide his elation.

“Holy fuck.”

He fell backwards, laying on the ground with his arms splayed out. It felt like he….was whole.

The Damsel looked out the small window of his room, squinting into the bright light between the bars.

What had just happened? He reached up to his head and ran his hand slowly through his hair, grazing over his left temple.

It felt like someone had just….

Deceit smiled a tiny bit, watching the two Romans collectively lose their minds. He was adorable when flustered. “You’re beautiful. Every bit of you,” he said, trying to force the Artist, force Roman, to understand that he was being truthful.

Even if it was a part of Roman, it still meant the world for Deceit to know that Roman knew. They could write this off later, write it off as some —

Deceit wanted to scream. Hang the fuck on. Oh, holy shit. He’d just admitted it.

He leaned back, trying to keep his movements as slow and deliberate and not-panicked as they were before, but holy shit. He’d just said it. He was in love. It was a round-about statement, series of movements and signals, but of course it was, with him.

He was in love with Roman — was it just Roman? It was a different feeling, but the same feeling across the board. God, Deceit didn’t want to deal with this, not on top of everything he was learning about the Imagination and the other Sides. He lifted a hand to his face and rubbed his scaled forehead, tugging his hat down just a tiny bit more. At least the Romans didn’t notice his sudden and extreme change in posture.

Their collective stupor was disturbed by a shout from below, and then the Playwright calling them downstairs.

“ARTIST! WE FUCKING FORGOT TO TELL THEM!” he snapped, “GET DOWN HERE, HURRY!”

The Artist swore, clearing his throat and standing up. “We, uh, we need to go downstairs, go ahead,” he motioned for Deceit and the Bard to leave, “Ah, fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay!” the Bard picked up the empty pizza box and looped his other arm around Deceit’s, much to the snake’s chagrin. “And we’ll let you tell the others later, okay? We don’t want you to feel uncomfortable at all.”

That was….kind. Deceit didn’t know how to respond, he’d kind of expected the Bard to excitedly blurt it out at some point. Perhaps he would. Deceit couldn’t trust that.

He nodded, and the Bard grinned. He led the way down the stairs, barreling through the kitchen and setting the box down before entering the main room again.

The Playwright, Patton, Dad Guy, and Teacher Guy were all sitting around in a circle. The second couch was empty, so the Bard pulled Deceit onto it, paying the utmost attention. The Artist just sank into the couch on Deceit’s other side, eyes locked onto some papers on the table. Two of them were open, letters that had been opened and were now folded back into the envelopes they’d come from. Only the letter’s receiver’s name was visible, but that gave quite a bit of backstory by themselves.

Cordial invitation of Dad Guy to the Entry Gala — in celebration of Morality, Logic, Anxiety, and Deceit’s welcome to the Imagination.

Cordial invitation of Teacher Guy to the Entry Gala — in celebration of Morality, Logic, Anxiety, and Deceit’s welcome to the Imagination.

On the stack’s top was another letter, with a red kiss mark where the stamp would typically go.

Honorable invitation of Patton ‘Morality’ Sanders to the Entry Gala — in celebration of your welcome to the Imagination.

“Ew, he kissed it,” the Bard bit his lip and looked up, scanning the Playwright’s face. “What is it? I’m guessing it’s from Dragon?”

The Playwright nodded to Patton, and he picked up his invitation and cut it open. Quickly, his eyes scanned it over, and a frown overtook his features. “This’ so weird, a gala? Like a party?”

“That’s my suspicion,” the Playwright said, then rubbed the back of his neck. “We all know, er….”

“Roman’s got a flair for the dramatics,” the Artist continued, voice soft, “Dragon got a lot of that.”

“But not all!” the Bard raised his hands up in Roman’s typical princely pose, grinning cheekily.

The Playwright and the Artist both rolled their eyes. “Yes,” the Playwright said. “It looks as though Dragon is trying to lure us all to the castle.”

“....Gosh,” Patton breathed, setting the invitation down on the table, so everyone could read it.

His hand was shaking a little. He did want to see the Dragon, of course, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t nervous about the implications of the letter. And a part of him hoped that….it hadn’t been the Dragon who sent it. Maybe the other Romans were wrong. Maybe the Prince, HIS prince, was there.

To Patton,

Roman ‘Dragon’ Sanders invites you to a masquerade gala celebrating your entrance into the Imagination, as well as Logan, Virgil, and Deceit’s. Please provide your own costume and mask, as this will be a masquerade ball.

It will be a grand evening of food, dance, and excitement, made all the better with your attendance. Entry at the Drawbridge gate tonight, gates open at sundown.

No RSVP required.

See you soon, my love.

Prince Roman

“Oh, fuck him, he’s just gonna sign it like that? What a lilly-livered jackass!” the Bard’s nose scrunched up.

He leaned back again and turned up his head, repulsed by the Dragon’s blatant arrogance. And the gall, calling Patton his love! It was like he got all the pride and none of the brains! What the hell! The Bard almost wanted to trade him one bit of self-indulgence.

Oh, he might have to throw some of his own punches, once he came face to face with the Dragon. What a disgrace to the Prince’s memory!

“It’s not somethin’ to celebrate,” Dad Guy said, a small smile on his face. The way his brows pinched definitely betrayed his worry.

Teacher Guy still patted his shoulder and shook his head. “Not the time, Dad.”

“Sorry, you know I goof when I’m nervous.”

“Hang on,” the Artist said, rereading the note, “Playwright and my invitations were different.”

He reached into his hoodie pocket and took out his own invitation, spreading it out on the table.

To Roman ‘Artist’ Sanders,

Roman ‘Dragon’ Sanders invites you to a masquerade gala celebrating Morality, Logic, Anxiety, and Deceit’s entrance into the Imagination. Please provide your own costume and mask, as this will be a masquerade ball.

It will be a grand evening of food, dance, and excitement — with a very special and very familiar guest. Entry at the Drawbridge gate tonight, gates open at sundown.

No RSVP required.

Come prepared.

“He’s….so he’s pretending to be Prince,” Deceit bit his tongue. “That has got to be who the guest is, in your invitation.”

He picked up both letters, turning them around to face himself as he turned over the phrasing in his mind. This was almost his area of expertise. The minute changes of word, the different references to the Prince, everything was catered to the recipient of the letter. Probably as a means to get whoever the letter was sent to do go.

Him and Patton both couldn’t hide their disappointment, but….it did make sense, in his world. The Dragon was manipulating them into attending, offering whatever he could.

“I don’t get it,” the Bard said, crossing his arms, “What’s the point of this? A ball? Like, that sounds flipping sweet, but for what?”

The Playwright responded. “My hypothesis is that it’s to get us all in one place. Every one of us figments, and every Side, but I don’t understand why he would—”

“Okay, so he’s gonna kill us on the dance floor,” the Artist said, pulling his knees up to his chest.

“Why do you think he’s inviting us, then?” Teacher Guy asked, “I mean, we’re probably going? Not much danger for us, and, well….”

“I wanna dance with you,” Dad Guy declared, throwing his arm around Teacher Guy’s shoulders.

Teacher Guy smiled, patting Dad Guy’s shoulder fondly as he turned to the Playwright again with more questions on his tongue. “It’s a free party. Knowing that we’re all Thomas, there’ll probably be pizza. Why do you think he’s throwing it all like a party? And what’s the point of having the costumes?”

“Dramatics?” the Playwright offered, voice weak in confusion. “The Dragon would have to figure out which costumed Thomas-esque people are the Sides, are us, and are, well, characters.”

The Artist exhaled sharply. “This is a long way to go for aesthetics. That can’t be all he wants.”

“Either way, we should go,” Patton said, voice soft, “We….Deceit, we were all talking about this. We’ve gotta talk to the Dragon.”

Deceit looked up from the letters, meeting Patton’s eyes with understanding. He nodded slowly. “I agree. No doubt it’s a trap. Of course, of course it’s a trap,” his brain was working at the speed of light, trying to figure out the smartest passage through this, “But we do need to meet him.”

A beat of silence followed that declaration.

Patton was afraid. They couldn’t not meet the Dragon — he was a part of Roman! And every part was valuable and loved and he needed to hug — but the way that the Artist curled in on himself, the way that the Playwright was squeezing his knees with his fists, the way that the Bard was trying to smile, as though it could cover up all of their fears…. It was going to be okay. It was all going to be okay. He was going to talk to the Dragon and give him a scolding. And, if he managed to get through to the Dragon, then it might help the other Romans not be afraid of that part of him. That was what mattered most.

Of course this would be difficult. Deceit would have to tread carefully. He didn’t want to risk any more damage to Roman’s psyche. He almost wanted to forget that kiss, that stupid kiss, because now it was dwelling too heavily on his mind for him to focus on the task at hand. This gala, this party that the Dragon was throwing….did he have the Prince? None of the Romans knew where Prince had gone. The way they talked about him made it sound like he was dead.

There was no way he was dead. And there was no way Deceit was going to let any of them get hurt, either.

At least the other Romans weren’t arguing back this time around. Hopefully they’d been convinced of this turn’s necessity.

God, he was so happy he didn’t have to talk in circles around this topic.

“Well, um,” Dad Guy fidgeted with the sleeve of his cardigan, “I don’t know what you all wanna do now. I’ve got cookies in—”

A sharp knock at the door shut him up. They all froze, huddled in their seats and couches. Deceit actually drew one of his daggers, poised to fight if need be. This was poor timing for the guards to have found them.

The door flung open.

There was Remy, glasses slipping down his nose, panting. He fixed his glasses and waved an arm across his body.

“Guys. You’re gonna wanna come with me, pronto,” he pointed at Dad Guy and Teacher Guy, “Emile needs them. You’re good.”

“Awh, but I just made cookies,” Dad Guy said.

“We can bring them the cookies later,” Teacher Guy offered, to which Dad Guy immediately brightened up, clapping.

“You’re right! We’ll bring you cookies later!”

“What happened?” the Playwright asked, fixing his glasses.

Remy usually didn’t run. He liked to take his time, make things easy for himself. What might have caused this sudden conundrum?

“Can’t answer that right now, we’ve gotta get going,” Remy wasn’t even holding a Starbucks cup as he fixed his glasses and motioned to them again, “You really need to see this.”

46 notes · View notes

annabethwisegirl-chase · 7 years

Text

250 Headcanons (Part 4)

I bet you thought you’d seen the last of these. Headcanons #151-200. These cover from Annabeth’s time in college, to her death, as well as a little extra. You’ll see what I mean if you make it to the end of this.

151. One of the general education requirements at the university in New Rome has to deal with an Ancient Roman history course, and how they’ve evolved over time, how things have changed and stayed the same, and how the past repeats itself, etc. Being the good Greek demigod that she is, Annabeth spends most of the class creating edited versions of notes that contradict half of what the professor’s saying. The myths that were so obviously stolen from the Greek tradition get the most heavy handed treatment, with Annabeth opting to continue telling it the way she knows. After all, it’s based on her culture, so it has to be more accurate than whatever the Romans turned it into. Since most of the tests in the class are short and long essay response questions, Annabeth ends up not doing too well in that course because of the fact she refuses to change her perspective on Rome and its history. Her final paper in the class has about half a page about Roman history/mythology, comparing it to its Greek counterparts, before she spends the rest of it detailing where the narrative is completely wrong, citing sources like “my mother, the goddess, Athena,” and “Chiron, trainer of heroes,” and “former Praetor Jason Grace, who met this guy and said he was a dick.” The last one, she found, was really hard to cite in APA format.

152. Although Annabeth does have friends in New Rome (Reyna, Frank, Hazel, and the occasional appearance by Jason), she never feels quite right there. She knows that most of the others living there don’t think twice about having her around, but there’s still an underlying prejudice with many of the younger demigods still at Camp Jupiter. It’s enough to make her want to move back to New York after one year. But, the credits at New Rome don’t really transfer to any other university, and Annabeth can’t stand the idea of feeling like she wasted her time there. So, she agrees to stick it out for the next three and reevaluate at the end of it where they want to live.

153. She spends those next three years drawing up plans for New Athens in her spare time and working with Chiron via IM on how to make it a reality. At first the centaur seemed hesitant, because camp was never intended to become a permanent home. But, with demigods living longer and Camp Jupiter having such a well working structure, Chiron knows he really has no choice but to give in. Through some “anonymous funding” provided by the Olympian gods, the camp is able to buy more land and expand its borders for the creation of a new town. The Athena Parthenos is moved to where the gates of the new city will be, and Annabeth almost hates that she’s not there to see its symbolic new placement. Almost.

154. At the college in New Rome, passwords have to be changed every 180 days. It’s a supid rule, and Annabeth has to get IT to reset her account for her once because she forgets and lets it expire. But, each year, she sets up her passwords based around a “theme” in the hopes they’ll be easier to remember. (Although so many people are amazed at the things Annabeth can remember, passwords just don’t seem to be among them). Her first year is pretty simple, just naming her friends and adding a number at the end of it. The next few years have themes including favorite Disney characters, famous architects, and superheroes.

155. Annabeth has never liked the taste of coffee. Ways to keep her going after pulling all-nighters usually include a lot of exercise and Dr. Pepper. She also has very specific stages that she goes through whenever she hasn’t slept that are, in order: drunk sounding Annabeth, giggly Annabeth, sarcastic/sassy Annabeth, flat out mean Annabeth, and finally dead girl walking Annabeth.

156. The first place she starts to design for New Athens is the home she wants to live in with Percy. It’s completed in bits in pieces, because she keeps trying to hide it from him, which is definitely a task that is easier said than done. He keeps trying to sneak up behind her or steal her blueprints away, just to see what is taking her away from him that he knows isn’t school work. Somehow though, she manages to keep it tucked safely away, in a tube with a pen mark down the side that she stashes with her old Olympus sketches.

157. She will drop anything and everything to have her head and/or neck rubbed.

158. Annabeth also is just a really good artist in general. Like, she’s great at proportions and angles from her years of trying to train as an architect. But, it transfers over into other subject matter as well. Her notebooks are filled with doodles in the corners that look way more detailed than something absentmindedly drawn during lectures.

159. Since her mom is also the goddess of crafts, Annabeth tries to take up knitting over a winter break, watching Youtube tutorial videos to try and get good at it. Although she can make a pretty wicked scarf, her hats kind of look deformed. But, that doesn’t stop her from making them for nearly everyone that she comes in contact with. It’s therapeutic, to be able to work with her hands and continue to create things instead of feeling like she’s only tearing them down. And making hats and scarves take so much less time than watching a building rise from the ground up. So it definitely provides the more immediate satisfaction while she’s waiting for her more major projects to come to fruition.

160. Annabeth cannot cook to save her life. She made it a point to learn how to make cupcakes, but that’s as far as her ability in the kitchen goes. Everything else ends up burnt or not completely done. Then, when Annabeth tries to cook it/bake it longer, then it just ends up burning.

161. Ham, pineapple and extra black olives is her pizza of choice. However, due to the fact she seems to be the only one on the side of pro-pineapple, and her boyfriend’s insistence that the pineapple taints the pizza entirely, she just settles for olives on her half of the pizza.

162. Literally always cold. It doesn’t matter that they spend the majority of the year in California, Annabeth always has some sort of jacket or sweater on her. She walks around her apartment with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and sleeps with her socks on because she swears that it keeps her warmer.

163. Annabeth is that person who always dresses up for class. Well, not necessarily dresses up, but is careful to make sure she looks professional at all times. Literally the second she gets home though, it’s goodbye pants and hello oversized sweatshirt. If there are going to be any plans to go out to eat dinner, or hang out in the city, those have to be made between classes or immediately after she walks through the door. Because the second she changes out of her clothes, that’s it for the day.

164. The first year that Percy and Annabeth live together brings back a lot of the bickering from their younger days. And sometimes, that bickering can spiral out of control and have them in full on fights. The argument that crops up the most definitely has to do with household chores. Annabeth is used to having a certain level of cleanliness. It helps her to stay focused it there’s not a huge mess everywhere. Percy, on the other hand, does not seem to be quite as phased by it. Fed up, she decides to try and institute a chore wheel, but it ends up causing more problems and neither of them pay much attention to it. But, they never think to take it down off its place on the fridge. So, it stays there pretty much the entire time they live in that apartment.

165. She owns three calendars. One is a little planner that she keeps in her backpack, one is hanging up on the wall by her desk, and one is huge and actually sits on her desk. Although the same information is written in pretty much all three, the constant reminders and hope of seeing it makes it more likely that Annabeth will complete a task that’s set out for her. Everything is also color coded. School assignment due dates and tests are in red, family events are in blue, social events are in green, appointments are in purple, demigod related things are in orange, and anything else that might pop up is in pink.

166. Annabeth gets a job her second year of living in New Rome working at a cafe. She has to be up way too early for her liking, but she always has been an early riser so it’s not too hard to make the adjustment. Besides, it means that she’s done with her shift by the time her classes start, giving her ample time in the evenings to work through her homework as well as her plans for New Athens. She walks around all day smelling like coffee though, and it’s enough to make her never want to get near the stuff when she finally quits a few months before graduation.

167. Growing up at camp, Annabeth’s used to eating pretty healthy. However, that does not mean she can’t inhale junk food like the next person. Her favorite non-healthy snack has to be chocolate covered peanuts (specifically, Goobers, but she’s not super picky on that). On the flip side, she doesn’t really like peanut M&Ms. Despite the fact that people have tried to convince her they’re basically the same thing, she’ll have none of it. She claims that the candy coating gives the M&Ms a completely different flavor and basically refuses to eat them.

168. There’s only one movie that Annabeth has ever cried at: Dinsey’s Hercules. And, it didn’t even start until she was in her teens. Even in college and beyond, she spends the entire film pointing out things that the movie got wrong. But, the last ten minutes of it has her tearing up every single time.

169. Annabeth is a Slytherin. She also thinks that the people who combine houses (Slytherclaws, Gryffinpuffs, etc.) are just lying to themselves to make them feel better.

170. Annabeth and Percy end up adopting two dogs from a nearby animal shelter. They definitely went with the intention of only getting one, because their apartment was still small, and they were super busy all the time. But, they couldn’t decide between two and ultimately decided to just get both of them. Since there were two, each of them decided they got to rename one each. So Otis and Aramis Jackson were added to the clan.

171. Annabeth’s eyesight starts to get really poor during her sophomore year of college. She dealt with it being slightly fuzzy, too stubborn to get her eyes checked out, for more than a year before finally giving in. While she thanks the gods that she’s allowed to get contacts from the get go, her back up glasses have large, black frames and she feels sufficiently like a dork when she has to wear them.

172. They’re juniors in college the first time the question of marriage is seriously discussed. It’s Christmas break, and they're spending a weekend at her dad’s before Percy’s family flies in to celebrate the holiday. Her stepmom meant it as a joke when she asked when they were getting married, and everyone--including Percy--looks stunned with Annabeth answers: “the summer after we graduate, that Saturday in the weird week where July becomes August.” She says it without even looking up from the piece of chicken that’s she cutting, and is genuinely confused at everyone’s expression when she does look up.

173. That same night, after everyone goes to bed, Percy asks her if she was being serious about what she said at dinner. Annabeth responds in the affirmative, explaining how she felt like it went along with the whole idea that she wanted to be married young. And, she wants to change her last name before she makes her mark in the mortal architectural world so that when she becomes a sort of “brand,” she’ll be restricted from doing that. Since everything in their life happens in the summer, it only made sense that they’d get married then and she picked the weekend closest to the middle of their birthdays. He acts all offended for about half a second, claiming that he can’t believe she made all these plans without even asking her to marry him, but they’re both a little too giddy at the prospect of actually getting married for them to believe it’s actually genuine. Their laughter only grows when Annabeth gets down on one knee and asks him to marry her, slipping his college ring onto his ring finger to keep up the charade.

174. Technically, they get engaged twice. The first time, when Annabeth proposed with a college ring and it’s the time that she swears is the official start of their engagement. The second time takes another year to crop up, and they’ve already started planning their wedding when Percy slides the engagement ring onto her hand. It’s the second time that he swears is the official start of the engagement.

175. In high school, the running gag was that if Percy didn’t graduate, then he couldn’t come to New Rome with her. Of course, it was a ridiculous thing to say, because they both knew that no matter what happened, she would not be leaving him behind. In college, the running gag becomes that if he doesn’t graduate, then he won’t get to marry her. Of course, it proves to be just as ridiculous as their old gag, and not just because they’ve already put their deposit down on the venue.

176. She designed exactly four structures for New Athens before deciding it wasn’t worth trying to do it all on her own. She would go insane. So, Annabeth handed over her designs and basic outline of the town to the Athena campers living at camp. Those campers team up with the Hephaestus cabin to work on the city, careful to make sure each of Annabeth’s designs--including the house she made for herself and Percy--go into the final construction of the city. It’s not ready to move into when they graduate college, but it’s closer than anything Annabeth could have achieved on her own.

177. When they graduate from college, it’s a huge ordeal. They have their friends from both camps come out, Percy’s family flies in, Annabeth’s family (including Magnus and two of his friends) shows up, and most of them end up crashing in their tiny apartment. It’s cramped, and you can’t walk two steps without stepping on someone at night, but it’s great. They have a barbecue after the ceremony, and the entire day is spent laughing and reminiscing on the various instances that made everyone doubt either Percy or Annabeth would end up as college graduates. All through the day, Nico keeps shooting her strange glances, like he suspects something, but never voices a concern. The party lasts for an entire weekend, and when people finally start leaving, they all express excitement at reuniting again in New York in a few months for the wedding.

178. They decided to move back to New York after graduation. Although Annabeth liked being close to her family and the safety of New Rome, neither of them felt they were truly at home. So, two weeks after graduation, Percy and Annabeth pack as many of their belongings as they can into their car, and drop off the rest with Frederick, who promises to mail them soon. It’s a long trip that’s only supposed to take four days, but because they’re who they are and constantly need breaks, monster attacks, and a weird case of car sickness from Annabeth, it ends up taking them almost twice that long. Percy ends up having to drive most of it because Annabeth is exhausted or has a headache for most of the trip, and spends as much of it as she can sleeping.

179. Since they don’t have an apartment when they move back to the city, Percy and Annabeth move back into his old room at Sally’s until they find one they like. It’s still small and not in the best part of the city, but it’s theirs and her dad insists that he doesn’t mind helping them out a little. At least, it’ll do until Annabeth’s job becomes more than just an internship and Percy finishes up with the final three courses that he has to take in order for his teaching license to be compatible with New York’s teaching requirements.

180. She’s never been good at taking medication. It doesn’t matter if there’s people there to remind her to do it, or if she puts post it notes up everywhere to try and get herself to take it. It’s just one of those things that slips her mind. It was the case when her stepmom put her on medication for her ADHD, and now, it’s the case with her birth control. And it’s hard for her pills to work if she never takes them. Which might be why she finds out she’s pregnant a little over a month before her wedding day.

181. She absolutely does not want to invite any part of their godly family, and insists that they won’t even show up if they are invited. But, Piper convinces her that it’ll be a slight if they don’t get invited to it, so Annabeth eventually relents. Her invitation to Hera though has to be mailed a week later by Percy when Annabeth insists that it got “lost.” However, due to the fact that Hera is the goddess of marriage, he vetoes her in saying that it’s asking for trouble if they don’t have her come. Everyone is surprised when most of the gods RSVP with a yes.

182. I keep seeing people saying Percy and Annabeth’ll get married at Camp and I’m like... no. Okay here we go. They get married at Montauk, and there’s this place called like the Navy Beach House or something, and it’s super nice and expensive but Frederick insists on paying for it because he knows that this is what Annabeth wants. And he hasn’t really felt like he’s been able to really give her anything she wants before, so this is something that he goes all out for. Also keep in mind, mortals can’t enter camp, and there is no way that Percy and Annabeth would get married without Sally, Paul, and baby Blofis around. They want it to be a small thing, but of course, what Percy and Annabeth want and what usually happens end up being in complete contrast with each other. It’s another huge party, with people from both camps coming in, basically all the gods showing up in human-esque form, the hunters of Artemis showing up (but they kind of have to, since Thalia’s in the wedding), in addition to the mortal sides of both their families. The gods put up a protective border for the day, because that many demigods in one place would definitely draw monsters. And Aphrodite has been waiting for this day since Percy and Annabeth were eleven, so no one is messing it up unless they want to deal with her wrath. It’s great, but there’s so much preparation and planning and hugging relatives that it seems to go by in a blur. Annabeth is sufficiently disappointed when the only piece of wedding cake she gets is the piece that Percy smashed in her face.

183. She manages to keep the whole pregnancy thing a secret from everyone (except she’s like 85% sure Sally knows something’s up, and Nico definitely knows. Turns out he can sense new life just like he can sense people dying and that’s why he gave her the weird looks at the graduation). It’s during the reception that she just writes “I’m pregnant” on a napkin that she passes to Percy before walking off to go greet more guests. The look he gives her when she finally makes eye contact again is priceless.

184. She changes her last name to Jackson as soon as she can after they get back from the honeymoon. Piper gave her some grief about it, claiming that it was giving into the patriarchy or something, but Annabeth didn’t care. She finally was officially a part of a family that was going to be permanent and that was going to be there for her, no matter what. Changing her last name to symbolize her belonging to that family was 100% her choice and something she’d decided on doing not long after her and Percy started talking about getting married.

185. Annabeth wanted to get her master’s directly out of college and was even accepted into a program. However, she decided to delay it due to the fact she was the idea of working, going to school, and taking care of a newborn seemed next to impossible. Annabeth knows she’s incredible, but she’s not that incredible. It actually gets pushed back a lot farther than she meant to, because all of their kids kind of end up being born back to back to back. Eventually, she is able to go back to school when the youngest starts kindergarten, and gets her master’s degree, before going on to achieve her doctorate as well.

186. They have three kids: two boys and a girl. The first two were not planned. The only reason they did decide to have a third was because of the whole ‘rule of three.’ Despite the fact that Annabeth proved it was a stupid law on her first quest, something about it still seemed safe. So, they had one more. It becomes a tradition for the next two kids that whenever Annabeth finds out she’s pregnant, she just writes it on a napkin and slips it to Percy at the end of dinner, before taking one of the kids to another room in their apartment.

187. It’s after their second kid is born that New Athens is completed and they’re able to move back into the safety of camp borders, while still living as functioning adults. It’s kind of a difficult commute for Annabeth for work, but she doesn’t care. She likes living in a home she designed with her family. And knowing their safe is worth the trip she has to take every day to get to the firm she works at. When Annabeth got to take Percy around the house the first time after it was done, and explain the intricate details of it all and why she designed things certain ways, she was couldn’t stop bouncing on her feet as she walked. They totally make out like teenagers in their newly finished kitchen before remembering that their kids are being watched by a few of Apollo’s kids in camp that probably should be relieved of their babysitting duties as soon as possible.

188. Their youngest gets Percy’s water powers and he can’t properly control them until he’s about eight. However, that doesn’t mean that his emotions don’t set them off. Annabeth loses track of the number of times she gets doused in toilet water (to which Percy can’t help but laugh every time) and his siblings find themselves getting water from the faucet shooting straight at their faces every time there’s an argument.

189. There are family Halloween costumes pretty much every year until their oldest is ten. Some of Annabeth’s favorites include the Incredibles, Batman, the Scooby Doo gang, and the Addams Family.

190. Due to the fact that both Percy and Annabeth are ADHD and dyslexic, all three of their kids have ADHD. Only their daughter is not diagnosed with dyslexia and there are definitely tears of joy when Annabeth first hears her daughter read through a sentence without stumbling any more than any other child learning to read.

191. When each Jackson kid is six, they receive a plastic sword to begin learning to sword fight. Granted, it probably seemed overkill, but all three of them definitely do still have a potent smell. So, it’s necessary for them to learn how to fight. After proving that they are capable of handling a blade and not hurting themselves (or pulling it on their siblings for the fun of it), they are given a real weapon, made especially for them by Tyson.

192. Board games, card games, and puzzles aren’t actually a thing that can go on in the Jackson household because everyone is so competitive about it. Pieces go “missing” from puzzles because someone took it so they can put the last piece in. Cards get traded below table tops to help someone win a hand. Board games usually get tipped over “accidentally” when someone gets up to go to the kitchen for something to drink.

193. Annabeth falls asleep more at the kitchen table than she does in her own bed. She gets wrapped up in some new project and insists on it being perfect. So, even though she swears she’ll only be up for fifteen more minutes, there’s no telling what time Annabeth will actually pass out and Percy gave up trying to wake her up to come to bed about a year after they got married. It just seemed that when he would wake her up, she’d murmur something about being awake enough to keep going and that she still definitely had five more minutes of work time left in her.

194. She’s totally that mom who frightens teachers and coaches a like about her kids. Like, when they make a mistake getting onto her kid for something that wasn’t their fault, or they take them out of a play when they’re clearly the best player on the team, Annabeth loses it. She ends up banned from her daughter’s volleyball games for a year.

195. When they take their kids to Disney for the first time, Annabeth is just as excited as any of the Jackson spawn. She spends the entire time describing the inspiration for the facades of the buildings, as well as how the forced perspective is working. She spends weeks planning their days down to the minute, factoring other potential plans for extra wait times, shorter wait times, etc. but ends up ditching all of it as soon as she rides Dumbo for the first time. No one really understands why, but that is her ride. They have to ride it first the two days they go to the Magic Kingdom during that trip.

196. It’s not uncommon for either Percy or Annabeth to be asked to go out and escort a halfblood to camp. Typically, they go as a team on the weekend, after dropping their kids off with Sally and Paul or letting them stay in their cabins at camp. However, after getting a call from Chiron about a halfblood near by, Annabeth opted to take on the mission by herself. After all, she’d be heading back close to camp’s borders at the end of the day anyway. It only made sense to find the demigod and take them back with her. But it wasn’t one demigod that she found. There were three. All kids under the age of twelve, and all looking absolutely terrified and banged up from a long journey. There’s a rushed warning about something following them, and Annabeth decides then and there that it’s probably better to take them back to camp now instead of convincing them to hang out at work with her for the rest of the day first. True to their word, there’s a cyclops on the trail of the three half bloods, who is ruthless in its attempts to hunt them down. It destroys Annabeth’s car, and they’re but a few hundred feet from the protective borders of camp when she tells them to run and she’ll hold it off. And it’s almost poetic, in a way. When she’s turned to call directions to them, the cyclops knocks her to the side with a blow she didn’t see coming. It sends her knife flying out of her hands, but she knows that she has to stall it in order for the kids to get to safety. And they do. They make it. But Annabeth doesn’t. She’s a month away from turning forty one when she dies.

197. There’s a weird murmuring when Annabeth goes into the Underworld, and a few of the guard spirits seem to click excitedly when she arrives. Despite her better judgement, she decides to go in front of the judges, to see if there is any sort of reward waiting for her on the other side. Maybe she’ll get Elysium, or maybe--if she pleads her case hard enough--she’ll be able to wait for a few dozen years before Percy shows up so they can make the decision together. After all, it was never a conversation that had popped up before. Whenever they got close to the topic, they’d quickly find something else to talk about. It definitely took her by surprise when she made her way in and found that she’d been granted not Elysium, but the Isles of the Blessed. Her third life had been completed. It’s then that she’s granted the memories of the first two lives as well before being ushered on. In each of them, there are two common elements. The first, there’s always a demigod present. Somehow, the Greek gods continue to plague her life in each of her three incarnations. The other, the boy she falls in love with is always the same. Different names (except for his first and last lives, a fact she finds amusing), different parentage, slightly different personalities but the same goofy grin and same quick wit.

198. Her first life found her as a princess in Ancient Greece, with parents who claimed she was more beautiful than Aphrodite. The claim was considered blasphemy, and she was chained to a rock to be eaten for her parents’ words. It seemed unfair, but she was too prideful even then to try and beg for her life from the gods. So, she kept silent and faced her fate. But her fate never came. Instead, there was a boy--a demigod--who carried Medusa’s head that turned the monster to stone. They married and lived happily ever after. Seriously, depending on what version of the myth you read, Perseus and Andromeda are described to look exactly like Percy and Annabeth so fight me on this.

199. Her second life had her as another Greek demigod, born in England. This time, she was a daughter of Apollo. Her mother had died when she was young, leaving the girl to become a charge to an aspiring artist during the early years of the English Renaissance. He taught her how to paint and how to play the lyre, which she found that she was rather good at. A soldier heard her playing, and quick banter made the girl find this soldier interesting. Due to who her father was, she was talented with a bow and arrow, so she cut off her hair, ran away from her home, disguised herself as a man, and joined the army. It was foolish, of course, and she died not long after by throwing herself in the way of a sword that was meant for the soldier she cared for.

200. One of the privileges of being in the Isles is that she can travel through the Underworld, but it comes with stipulations. It can never be for too long, she can’t look for people she used to know who chose to stay in the Fields of Asphodel, she can’t speak to demigods that come down for a quest, and the Fields of Punishment are completely off limits. She uses this slight freedom to visit Daedalus when he’s working, often offering up tips for the redesigns he’s doing and to play catch with Cerberus. As much as she enjoys the relaxing after three taxing lives, it does get a little lonely, even in a perpetual paradise. There are definitely some happy tears shed when she finally reunites with who she can only call her soulmate.

#likes #annabeth chase #i onLY HAVE 50 LEFT #THE NEXT SET WILL JUST BE LIKE LITTLE FACTS KIND OF #I'M ALREADY BRAINSTORMING SOME #ONE DEALS WITH PEANUT BUTTER AND ONE DEALS WITH BANDAIDS AND ONE DEALS WITH HER YANKEES HAT #also it'll probably have some rp things to pop up in the next one as well #OKAY I'M EXCITED THE END

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