#and FUCK your he was a punk she did ballet romance!!!

[feluka]

everybody apologize to demeter right now

#and FUCK your he was a punk she did ballet romance!!!

[phykios]

honesty and promise me, part 2 [read on ao3] [co-written with @darkmagyk]

Goth isn’t really Annabeth’s scene—hasn’t been since she was twelve, hiding in her room and blasting Evanescence or Avril Lavigne so she didn’t have to spend quality time with her brothers, or even talk to her stepmother at all—but Percy had insisted. She could almost picture his pathetic, baby seal-eyed face as he wheedled and whined at her over text, until she eventually (not at all reluctantly) gave in.

She’s only known him for a few weeks. It’s a little embarrassing how quickly her willpower had crumbled.

Thalia, for whatever reason, had decidedly not been game, even when presented with a large, post-bartending hangover coffee as an opening salvo. “This is a bad idea,” she had said, glaring at the sun so intensely that, were it not for her thick, black sunglasses, she probably would have vaporized it.

“We don’t have to go.”

“No, the show will be great. Pluto’s Daughter is great,” she said between sips of her too-bitter-to-be-real black coffee. “You and Percy, is a bad idea.”

“Protective of your baby cousin?” Annabeth asked, raising an eyebrow, her eyebrow ring awkwardly bumping up against her hair, sorely in need of a shave. She was thinking of getting a second ring. Her mother had once told her that they were the epitome of trash—but Thalia had two, and they looked so badass.

She scoffed. “He’s not the baby.”

“Then there’s no problem.”

Thalia narrowed her eyes, really considering Annabeth. Annabeth’s own eyes had been described more often than not as storm clouds, dark and heavy. If hers were storm clouds, then Thalia’s were lightning, electric blue, piercing, beautiful, and dangerous, with a temper to match. “Before you started seeing him,” she said, “I’d have said that you’d eat him alive.”

Annabeth smirked. “I have done no eating yet.”

“Ugh,” she rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, now I’m going to be honest with you. He’s going to eat you alive—and your self-esteem is never going to be able to recover. Honestly, I shouldn’t even let you two within ten feet of each other.”

She scoffed, taking a long drink of her own coffee, black but with just enough sugar to make it bearable.

As if a ballerina would ever intimidate her. A fucking ballerina.

The conversation hadn’t exactly ended the way either of them wanted, but Annabeth was still going to keep fucking Percy for the time being, and Thalia was going to let herself be dragged to the damn concert.

The night of, the bar has a line, but Thalia alternately sweet-talks and intimidates the bouncer, and he lets them in. Having tended bar for any place that would take her and not put her on the payroll, Annabeth assumes that she just has dirt on everyone in the service industry in New York City, so they skip a lot of cover charges, and get a lot of free drinks.

It's fucking crowded inside, too, packed to the brim with sweaty bodies and heavy boots. Just another day in paradise.

Thalia glances at her phone. “They’re at the bar, up front?”

“They?”

Thalia doesn’t hear her, apparently, just wraps her mesh covered hand over Annabeth’s wrist and pulls her through the crush of people. Annabeth has her eyes peeled for Percy’s typical blue hoodie or orange muscle tees, thinking that they would stand out like a sore thumb in this place, but she can’t see a goddamned thing.

Now, punks aren’t exactly known for their radical use of color, but this was another thing entirely, a sea of black and lace and leather. Looking for his black hair is a waste of her time. “So many bad bottle jobs,” she murmurs.

Thalia pauses for a second, frowning at her. “What?”

“Everyone here has decided that they just had to dye their hair black. How original.”

She is silent for a moment, squinting, then looks away. “I see them, come on.”

Her blunt nails dig into Annabeth’s arm as she yanks her even harder.

There, at the end of the bar, a tall guy stands, dressed to the nines—the nines of this particular scene, anyway.

He looks kind of familiar: curly black hair in a sharp undercut that Annabeth definitely admires, extremely tight, black skinny jeans that leave nothing to the imagination and really went out of style with My Chemical Romance, a t-shirt with a skull on it (because goths, obviously), and a leather jacket, covered in patches. She spots the Italian flag, several for Pluto’s Daughter and a handful of other bands, a pride flag, a couple of music notes, and one that says, “Not gay as in happy, queer as in fuck you.”

“Annabeth,” says Thalia, “you remember Nico.”

Annabeth blinks. The last time she’d met Nico, he’d been wearing a three-piece suit that had cost as much as her rent. Now the hand she shakes has black fingernails and a skull ring, leading up to a face with eyes lined heavier than either Thalia’s or Annabeth’s, with a septum ring and a line of studs up one ear. “Hey.”

“Where’s our prima ballerina?” Thalia asks as Nico offers her a glass of something brown.

Thalia likes—and cannot often afford—expensive booze, which means that Nico must be paying. Unwilling to be caught in another embarrassing little social snafu, Annabeth tries really hard to remember what it is that he does. Hadn’t he sold his soul to some law firm or other?

“He went to consign himself to a slow and agonizing death,” says Nico.

“What?” Annabeth asks, glancing between the cousins.

Thalia rolls her eyes. “He means Percy went out for a smoke. Nico doesn’t approve.”

“It’s bad for you! This is not a controversial topic,” he says. “I don’t like that he does it, I don’t like that he got you to start, and I’m not going to like it when I go to both of your funerals. But I am going to tell you I told you so.” Then, seemingly as if to undermine his point, he throws back the rest of his own drink, holding up the empty glass to the bartender. “Another,” he calls, “Godfather, if you please.”

If drinks were on Nico tonight, maybe Annabeth could use the cover of the goth crowd to order a glass of red wine instead. It would certainly be a nice change of pace from the shit-ass beer she sucks down on the regular.

“There he is!” Thalia calls, bursting into applause. “The hell took you so long? Wardrobe malfunction?”

“Yeah,” she hears Percy’s voice. “Someone stole my best pair of tights.”

Turning, Annabeth is suddenly very glad she hadn’t yet ordered a drink, because then she would have dropped it, spilling it all over not only the dirty bar floor, but also her second favorite pair of boots.

It’s definitely Percy, but she never would have spotted him. Having gone to a dozen or so shows with her and Thalia so far, he had always dressed pretty consistently in baggy jeans and whatever stupid dance pun t-shirt Annabeth hadn’t pilfered already to wear to breakfast: very normal, and just a little bit out of place for the goth/punk scene.

Tonight, he is not dressed like that.

She can’t focus on everything all at once, so she starts with his too tight t-shirt, with the logo for Pluto’s Daughter splashed across it, like the artist had taken paint and hurled it at the fabric from a mile away. Ripped and sleeveless, she can see every single ridge and line of his biceps, his forearms, his shoulders, even a bit of his decolletage. His pants are black, per the unspoken dress code, and baggy, but he has belts wrapped up and down his legs, emphasizing the size of his muscular thighs and calves. And that isn’t even the worst part. Neither are the studs in his ears, or the black liner around his eyes.

The worst part is the blue lipstick painting his mouth, making his eyes pop, making his troublemaker smile look that much more depraved.

The worst part is how that blue lipstick will almost certainly be all over her thighs by the end of the night.

Thalia’s advice was never going to win out, but now it has no chance.

Despite being dressed up like the goth ballet prince of her dreams, the hero of an angsty, middle school novel Annabeth might have dreamed up instead of paying attention in class but had been too embarrassed to ever write it down, he smiles at her, cheery and bright as ever, kissing her so deeply her mouth must turn blue. In the corner of her eye, she sees Thalia and Nico exchange a capital-L look, one that Percy can’t see, because all of his attention is focused on her. She doesn’t know what that means, but she’s too far gone to ask.

Percy moves away, still close, still oriented around her, but she has to clasp her own hands together to keep herself from reaching out and pulling him back to her, biting her tongue, rubbing the ring along the inside of her teeth to keep from letting the word “please” escape her lips.

She doesn’t think she’s ever been so instantly taken with any guy—ever. Not even the almost one night stand her sophomore year was college, nineteen and fresh-faced and totally unprepared for the heartbreak that would follow. Last time, Luke had suggested wine to help her get over her mystery man, so that’s what she orders now, taking too big sips and ignoring the slight concern in Percy’s too pretty eyes.

It’s all packaging, she thinks, packaging designed to make the product more desirable. Basic marketing and design. She knows him, and she knows what he can do with his teeth and his tongue and his hand and his dick. She recognizes it, sees it coming, so she won’t be affected by it.

“I didn’t know you were coming, Nico,” she says, wrangling her thoughts together. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Never miss a show,” he says.

“Flew back from London just for it,” Thalia says, bumping him with her shoulder.

“I flew back because my business trip was over,” he corrects. “…But I did take the redeye so I’d be here on time.”

Percy beams at that, so hard she can actually feel it. “Anyone else joining us I should know about?” Annabeth asks.

It’s so weird to look at them all together—all dark hair, strong jaws, cheekbones carved from stone, sexy and just a little bit intimidating. “Any other cousins, maybe?”

Nico glances at Percy, suddenly apprehensive. “Actually, Percy,” he says, “I’m pretty sure I saw—”

“Perseus Jackson!” A whirlwind of blue-green silk assaults her senses as a woman sweeps over to them, headed straight for Percy, almost knocking Annabeth out of the way, wrapping him up in a hug and ignoring everyone else. “How’s my darling little brother?”

Percy awkwardly pats her on the back, shooting a grimace at the rest of them. “Uh, hey, Kym. I… didn’t know you’d be here.”

“It was a last minute thing, I had a free night for once in my life and was casting about for something to do, you know how much I hate not working, and I thought I’d come by and support our dear Hazel.”

Nico raises an eyebrow. “Since when have you been into goth rock?”

It’s not an unwarranted question. She looks wildly out of place here, in her sleek, silk dress and the scent of Dolce and Gabbana’s Light Blue coming off her like waves, in sharp contrast to the sea of ripped jeans and sewed up shirts that surround them.

Kym, again, ignores him. “Mojito, Perseus? I know it’s your favorite.”

Annabeth’s eyebrows shoot up past her hairline. Percy? Percy half-a-cider-no-thank-you-I-don’t-care-for-any-more Jackson likes to drink mojitos? “Ah—” He grimaces, trying to extract himself from her grip, “no, thank you—"

“Oh, you’re no fun anymore.”

“I just don’t like to—”

“Well it’s not like this place will have any rum worth drinking anyway,” she sniffs.

Thalia rolls her eyes.

“Here, take a selfie with me.” Her phone is already raised, thumb poised for action.

“Kym, come on—”

But she pulls Percy close, shoving his head against hers, mouth already pouting. Thalia sighs, turning back to the bar.

After a moment of refusal, Percy sighs too, giving into his fate, and mustering his best vogue for the camera. They make an odd pair, her with her perfect Instaglam and him with his blue lipstick and smudged liner, but with the two of them pressed together like this, it’s easy to tell that this Kym is another cousin. Same eyes, same brow, same inky black hair, she looks exactly like Percy, only whiter.

Satisfied with her selfie, it’s only then that she notices Annabeth staring at her. “And you are?”

Percy sighs, rubbing his eye. “Kym, this is Annabeth. Annabeth, this is my sister Kymopoleia.”

Kym does not reach out her hand. “And what do you do?”

Thalia, from nowhere, slings an arm over Annabeth’s shoulder, whisky in hand. “Nothing that would interest you, leech.”

“I’m an architect,” Annabeth offers.

“My friend studies at Bartlett, in London. Did you go there?” Kym asks.

“No,” Annabeth says, biting back an automatic retort about Bartlett’s global ranking in Forbes. Ninth in the world, not even top five.

Kym curls her lip a little, like she knew what Annabeth would have said anyway. “What have you designed? Anything I would know?”

“She designs community gardens and stages for festivals.” Thalia says.

“Oh, so not a real architect, then.”

“The Man doesn’t have to approve of something to make it real. No, her name isn’t on file in some state office. She’s an anarchist architect.” Thalia says. Annabeth bits back a line of her own retorts.

Kym sniffs again. “Thrilling.” Then she turns back to Percy, writing her off entirely. “Perseus, it was lovely to see you again—will you be coming to Santorini this year?”

“Depends on my rehearsal schedule.” The words sound very rehearsed. He’s said this exact phrase a lot.

“Well get that sorted out! You know how mother likes her itineraries.”

He nods, beleaguered. “As soon as I can, promise.”

“See that you do.” Then with a final kiss on Percy’s cheek, off she flounces, disappearing into the dirty, grungy crowd, leaving silence in her wake like the wreckage after a storm.

“Okay,” says Annabeth.

Percy sighs, turning to the bar to order his own drink.

“Sorry about that,” says Nico. “If I had known she was coming, I swear I would have told you.”

“You can’t just go around saying the word ‘cousin,’ Annabeth,” says Thalia, returning to her own space. “It’s like Beetlejuice. Say it three times and you summon one of Percy’s douchey relatives.”

“They’re your relatives, too.”

Thalia scoffs. “Barely.”

“Oh yeah?” asks Percy. “How’s Hercules?”

“Hopefully dead.”

“At least he doesn’t show up out of the blue in wildly incongruous places,” Nico points out.

Percy takes a pull of his drink, and Annabeth does not watch his neck as he swallows. “Yeah, what was up with that? Since when has Kym been into goth rock?”

“That’s what I said!”

“She’s planning something,” Thalia mutters, glaring angrily into her drink. “I don’t know what it is, but she’s planning something.”

“So, I’m guessing this isn’t usually her scene?” Annabeth asks.

“Art is her scene,” Thalia replies, gesturing widely, nearly smacking someone in the shoulder. “The whole of the New York art world.”

Looking back around to the half-lit bar full of badly dressed goths, she thinks maybe calling this the “art world” might be a little bit generous.

“She’s kind of like an art world barometer,” says Percy. “Wherever she goes, the critics follow—like little baby ducklings.”

“Too bad she’s a fucking snob about it.” Thalia tosses back the rest of her drink, slamming the glass down on the wood, signaling for another with a toss of her head.

“Shame she has such good taste,” Nico muses.

“She has such good taste!” Despite her bravado, Thalia is absolutely a tiny bit of a lightweight, the whisky already going to her head, slurring her speech just a little. “Whole fucking family’s so goddammed good at art.”

“Not the whole family,” says Percy, shaking his head. “Kym can’t make art, she just appreciates it, like Jason. And Triton can’t do either.”

Annabeth has never seen Thalia so much as draw a picture or pick a song at karaoke, but she had been left out of Percy’s little list. In all Annabeth’s years of knowing Thalia, she never even thought that it had bothered her. “I mean,” she says, “if you like art, you could—”

As one, Nico and Percy both shake their heads. Insistently. Violently.

Staring at her empty glass, Thalia doesn’t notice. Nico replaces hers with his half-finished one, and Thalia drinks without missing a beat. “What about you?” she turns to Annabeth, blue eyes wide. That’s another thing that the cousins all have in common; their eyes are a variety of colors, but they’re all the same wide, almond shape, made more pronounced with heavy, grungy liner. “Got any artistic cousins?”

“No,” she says, wondering how little she can get away with saying. “I only have one, and he’s not.”

Everyone stares at her.

She capitulates, just a little. “His partner is an artist,” she offers. “Alex is a sculptor.”

Percy looks at her, half-smile on his face. “What does your cousin do if he isn’t an artist?”

His question makes it sound like there are only two types of people in the world to him: artists and non-artists. Given that Annabeth had been sketching buildings since the time she had the dexterity to hold a crayon, it might be true. “He’s in med school,” she says, “fourth year, at Harvard.”

“Ew.” He wrinkles his nose.

“Okay, smartass,” she says, “you talk to your podiatrist like that?”

“You still fucking that med student?” Thalia asks Nico.

“Dating him, actually.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Dinner,” Nico says. “Sometimes lunch. This is going to shock you, but you can actually spend time with the people you sleep with, and even develop feelings for them.”

They glare at each other for a long moment, then, as one, turn and glare at Percy.

“No,” he says, “I am not getting in between this.”

Nico, somehow, glares even harder. “Come on, you’re—”

“I’m not talking about this,” Percy says, his face a hard mask, lips set firmly in a frown.

For the first time ever, it occurs to Annabeth that this ballet dancer could be scary if he wanted to be.

That is… so not a problem.

The cousins continue glaring at each other, the family telepathy practically brimming with unspoken pasts. A part of her really, really wants to hear where it’s going. She wants to know what Percy’s feelings are on romance, just to make sure that they are on the same page. Casual sex, fun nights, the occasional concert—that’s where they are now. If the arrangement is going to change, she’s going to need to know about it.

Then, the lights flicker, dimming. A roar takes over the crowd, and when Annabeth can see again, Pluto’s Daughter is onstage.

There’s no introduction, no greeting, the band diving right into their first number, an intense, high-octane whirlwind of drums and bass and screaming. Percy screams right alongside them, hands raised and jumping, Nico and Thalia close behind, every unintelligible lyric learned by heart. Even Annabeth can’t help but get swept up in it, her typical aloofness melting away into the crowd.

It really is a great show.

“That was amazing!” Annabeth is almost breathless at the end of it. Her throat feels raw, like sandpaper, her cheeks aching from smiling.

Percy hands her one of those little plastic cups of water, knocking his own back like a shot, wiping his mouth with his knuckles. “Aren’t they awesome?”

“I had no idea you were such a fan,” she says. “Your Spotify Wrapped must be a mess.”

“I like all music,” he replies, glib. “Even rap and country.”

“Oh, how well-rounded of you.”

“But Pluto’s Daughter is special,” he says. “You know the drummer is my cousin?”

“Very funny.”

“No, really,” says Percy. “Hazel is Nico’s half-sister.”

She blinks at him. “You have too many cousins.”

He just laughs, throwing his head back. “Tell that to our parents.”

Whatever else he might have said gets lost as a small bundle of leather and fishnet emerges from the crowd, launching herself at Percy. “You came!” cries the drummer for Pluto’s Daughter--Hazel. “Oh, I’m so happy you came!”

In stark, stark opposition to how he had been Kym, Percy swings his little cousin around in a big hug. He probably has close to a foot on her, even in her black platform boots, their broad smiles so uncharacteristic in such a dour crowd. Annabeth hadn’t been able to get a good look at her up on stage, but now she’s flush with adrenaline, her dark skin glistening with equal parts sweat and glitter, baby hairs escape from the artful crown of bantu knots, septum ring shining in the dim light of the bar.

“Of course I came,” says Percy, somehow still hugging her. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Ms. Hazel Levesque!” Thalia crows, well and truly wasted. “There’s my gal!” And she rushes over to join them, almost bowling them both over.

A truly affectionate Thalia is rare, like a four-leaf clover or snow on Christmas. It does happen on occasion, if she’s gotten enough sleep or enough to drink, but the moment is usually fleeting, meant to be treasured, kept close to the heart. Annabeth can count the number of times Thalia has been sweet to her on one hand--never cruel, or mean, but just… brusque. Sarcastic. And yeah, sometimes mean, but never in a demeaning way. Just in a Thalia way. It’s one of the many, many things she loves about her.

The only downside to affectionate Thalia right now is that it leaves her alone with Nico.

She doesn’t not like Nico, she just doesn’t really know him. He’s swaying a little, not dangerously so, just vibing to the noise and the booze he’s already had.

“Hey,” he says, lurching over to her. “Got a question for you.”

“Okay?”

“I was. Working on those permits. For your show.” He waves a hand. “Whatever. You know that stage set up for that show in the West Village last winter?"

The first time she had met Nico, Annabeth and Thalia had been helping out one of her friends with their outdoor theater, and had needed a little legal assistance with getting the venue all squared away, as they were technically trespassing on some private property. It was nice to flex her creative muscles, though. She didn’t always get the chance these days.

She nods. “Yeah?”

"Your New York State architect license was on the paperwork."

Annabeth's blood runs cold.

Swallowing away her anxiety, she takes another sip of her water, hoping he’s too buzzed to notice. "What, was I supposed to try and impress Kym with my license?"

Nico snorts. "God, no.” Taking another sip of his drink, he goes to hug his sister, and Annabeth quietly berates herself for not taking care of that sooner.

Yes, her license is still on file with the state, because it’s so much more convenient to leave it like that, rather than let it lapse and reapply every time she has to do something bigger than a birdbath in a tiny community garden, and being registered still means she has access to the network and can apply for certain grants and it always looks good on her portfolio and she didn’t think the two worlds would ever collide, especially not in a place where Thalia, of all people, would ever find out--

“So,” says Percy, sidling back over to her. “Working on anything good?”

She blinks, the spiral of her thoughts coming to a screeching halt. “Huh?”

“Any cool projects on the docket?”

Projects. Right. “Sorta in between projects right now,” she says, tapping her fingers against the bar. “I finished up that community garden a couple months ago, now I’m just… waiting for the next thing coming along.”

He nods. “I feel that. The precarity’s a bitch, isn’t it.”

“Totally. Almost makes you want to work a 9 to 5 just for job security, right?”

“Absolutely not,” he says. “Wouldn’t give up ballet for the world. I could never work in an office; sitting for so long might actually kill me.”

It might--even now he can’t help but move, shifting around on heel to toe and back again. Everything about him is about movement. Even an office where everyone was on their feet, like hers had been, wouldn’t have been enough for Percy Jackson, she thinks.

“What about you?” he asks. “How would you fair in an office?”  

“Been there, done that,” she says, before she can even think it through.

“Really?” She sees him scan her. Normally when he does that, he’s thinking of her without her clothes on, but now, she’s pretty sure he’s thinking of the ink that runs up and down her legs, and how that might all look forced into some sort of pencil skirt.

 "Once upon a time,” she says.

 “Was that before or after you decided to become an anarchist architect?”

Long after she decided to become an architect, but before anything about an anarchist crossed her mind, though her freshman Poli Sci professor, or maybe that sophomore philosophy TA, would probably argue that she isn’t actually an anarchist now. “Before,” she says. “I once tried to be very very different.” Tried and failed, oh so very spectacularly.

 “How so?”

She looks at him for a moment. There are layers of mystery that need to be upheld. But she can’t spill her life’s story to Percy after only a few weeks of knowing him, no matter how easy and disarming he may be. She isn’t that girl anymore, and she doesn’t want people to know she ever was. Especially not these people: Thalia, Percy, Nico, even Hazel, who she hasn’t properly met. She can see, standing here, how very genuine and clear they are about themselves. They probably have actual skeletons in their closets, real, agonizing pasts, so much worse than her own.

She doesn’t want them to know she had an honest to god debutante ball. Murder would be vastly preferable. But still, Percy’s eyes are so bright, even in the dark light. His smile is so non-judgmental.

“I used to dream about adding to the skyline,” she says, eventually, “designing something so cool and so fresh that even after I died, everyone would look up and they would know my name.” For a second she thinks he might actually understand. And then she remembers Kym, and his utter distaste for his own sister, whose friend had only managed to get into Bartlett. “But I realized that kind of ego wasn't going to do me any good. And office work wasn’t going to take me anywhere I wanted to go.”

That bruise to her ego still stings, on occasion. That, and the loss of the only thing she’d ever wanted as much as something permanent. They were separate dreams, really, but two years ago, in that little Upper East Side café, they had seemed like one and the same. Failing so spectacularly in one had felt like she might as well throw in the towel about the other.

Percy in blue lipstick, eye liner, and a very tight shirt makes her think it might have been the right choice.

Maybe.

Possibly.

Assuming she never got another call. Though after that award she and Leo got earlier this year…

No, she reminds herself. She shouldn’t dream big anymore. She wasn’t going to get there, and she had to be ok with that.

He smiles, lopsided, sympathetic. “I know what you mean. Like, after so many amazing dancers, you have to be crazy to think that you can add something to the canon, something that’s never been done before. But here we are.”

“Here we are indeed.” She clinks her glass against his, and they drink.

He finishes with a long gasp, licking his lips.

“Wanna go be somewhere else?” she asks.

“Damn right I do,” he says, grabbing her hand, lacing her fingers together with his.

An hour or so and a few orgasms each later, they lie side by side on Percy’s bed, soft and sweaty.

“So your sister is kind of… intense,” Annabeth says.

Percy snorts so hard, Annabeth can feel it vibrating into her. “Yeah. That’s a word for it.”

“What was it like, growing up with her?”

“Oh, I didn’t grow up with her. I grew up here with my mom; she grew up in Athens with our father.”

“In Athens? Cool.” She’d done a study abroad in Rome, but she’d never made it out to Athens like she had wanted. Too much Pantheon, not enough Parthenon. “Have you ever been?”

He screws up his face, thinking cutely. “A few times. They’re not… great memories, exactly. In retrospect, it’s nice that my dad wanted me to feel included, but bringing his mistress’ kid on the annual family vacation to Santorini probably wasn’t his brightest idea.”

Annabeth’s eyes shoot up to her hairline. “Wow.”

“Kym was actually always pretty cool about it,” he continues, thoughtfully. “She likes to pretend she’s this ice queen alpha bitch type, but she’s got a secret soft spot. And my dad’s wife eventually came around--she even sends me a birthday card each year. My half-brother, though.” Percy blows out a breath. “He’s always been a douchebag.”

Dropping a kiss to his bare shoulder, she squeezes him. There’s a story there, but she knows better than anyone about not wanting to talk about bad family relationships. Percy likes Kym, though, and that makes her safe territory. “Tell me more about Kym. You said she was some kind of art collector or something?”

“No, she’s not a collector.” Percy bites his lip, considering. “It’s kind of hard to explain. I guess you could say that she’s, like… a professional socialite?”

Annabeth sits up, squinting down at Percy. “Are you trying to tell me that your sister is a courtesan?”

He sputters, completely taken by surprise, choking on his inhale. After thirty seconds, Annabeth is afraid she’s going to have to try CPR, before Percy starts to calm down. “No,” he wheezes, coughing. “No, she’s not a courtesan.”

“So, what does a ‘professional socialite’ even do?”

“You know, she… socializes.” Percy waves a hand in front of him. “She goes to parties, meets people, facilitates meetings--she socializes.”

Annabeth frowns. “What does that even mean?”

“I literally don’t know how else to explain it to you.”

“What, is she a spy?”

He opens his mouth to argue, then pauses. “Not… technically.”

“Not technically?”

“Think more corporate, less political.”

Okay, now she’s even more confused. “Huh?”

Percy sighs. “My dad runs this big shipping company that does business all over the Mediterranean. Pretty much the whole family works for him in some way: Triton is some kind of assistant executive, and Kym and my step-mom do, you know, outreach or fundraising or whatever.”

She’s silent for a moment, collecting the information presented to her. “Is this some kind of mob thing?”

He grimaces. “Maybe we should change the subject.”

“Is your dad a mob boss, Percy?” Objectively, she knows that the mob is a terrible organization responsible for many different types of atrocities, but honestly, the idea is kind of exciting, Annabeth hooking up with the secret lovechild of a mob boss. It’s romantic and sexy in a film noir kind of way.

“No, he just--does some light smuggling. I think.”

“How does one engage in ‘light’ smuggling?”

“Okay, so his business is totally legitimate, but he may also smuggle art on the side. Or oil. Or both. I don’t know and I’ve been told never to ask.”

And she thought her family was weird. She tells him as much. “That’s wild.”

“Honestly? That’s not even the wildest thing about my family.”

She flops back down on the bed, already exhausted. “Percy, I don’t know how many more revelations about your mob family I can take.”

“They’re not part of the mob!” He laughs. “But,” he smirks, looming over her with a familiar desire, “I can neither confirm nor deny that I had to swear a blood oath to the family when I turned eighteen.”

Rolling her eyes, she still easily submits to the heady feeling of his lips on hers, tilting her head back as he travels down her neck. “Okay, I did not sign up for any Don Corleone bullshit.”

“But you’d make such a great mob wife. Though we would have to kill the rest of my immediate family.”

Annabeth giggles, only partly at the ticklish feeling of his lips between her breasts. “I’d help you kill your douchey half-brother any day.”

He glances up at her from her belly button, long lashes fluttering. “That is legitimately one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me. Full disclosure, Thalia has already called dibs.”

“That’s fair.” Then she pushes his head down further. “Now get to work, Godfather.”

#IT'S ALIVE #my fic #percabeth #pjo #the rivalry ends here #honesty and promise me #darkmagyk #we took a detour to 15th century europe but we're back babeyyy

[chaoticoconut]

BARBARA GORDON HEADCANONS THAT MAKE ME SWOON!!

(and so can you!! alfkvoekfndnej does anyone get that reference anyhoo)

I couldn't NOT post these idk I was showering and then I was hit with a mf tornado of hcs about my favorite gal and I figured I'd share :))))

Barbara and Tim are actually the most potty mouthed members of the batfam, excluding Kate. Jason is close, but only when he's upset (which probably seems trivial bc he's yk always upset but I hc him a pretty chill if not bitter and snarky guy). Tim cusses more when he's tired, but he consciously tries to bite his tongue. Barbara has no remorse and cusses very casually and openly, because she sees no point in abstaining. It releases endorphins guys. Duh. She uses those ridiculous "holy heck Batman!" lines as Batgirl unless she's genuinely thrown off her game. She limits her cussing a lot as Oracle bc she's not one to offend people, and you never know. It's most definitely a civilian thing for her, and anyone who knows Babs knows she's a fucking sailor.

Her favorite food of all time is pizza. Her dream house has a brick pizza oven. She has a food blog with every pizzeria in the greater Gotham area ranked from best to worst. Her favorite of all time is the Gotham Pizza Garden, which is located in Old Gotham near the police station. Technically it's the second best pizza in Gotham, second to Gargoyle Pie Company, which is renowned for being the epitome of Gotham-style pizza and is always busy. She has a lot of memories of GPG though, and loves both pies. GPG also has an incredible Chicago style pizza, which is her second favorite type of pizza. She does however believe Gotham style is superior and thinks less of Dick for disagreeing (@blanddcheadcanons tie-in heyo!!) Very few things make Babs as happy as gourmet pizza.

She grew up watching Teenage Mutant Turtles, Powerpuff Girls, and Star Trek. They all hold a very special place in her heart. There is totally a connection between her love of pizza and TMNT and turtles and mixed martial arts. She once got the boys to go as the turtles for Halloween, with her crushing it as April.

Speaking of turtles, she's had a pet turtle named after icon Nichelle Nichols since high school. Yes, she does call her Shelly. Yes it's cliche. No she does not care. She also has a calico cat named Cornflake that Dick gave her as a birthday present. She doesn't have pet dogs until she and Dick finally settle down. She never had them growing up because her father is allergic and her mother was a devout cat lady. She's not really sure why she never got any on her own, she's just more familiar with cats. After her mom passed away, she did get a bunch of bunnies whom she and JJ named after their favorite horror movie monsters and serial killers.

She loves slasher flicks. It's a family thing. JJ was creepy about it, Jim loves the thrill, Babs loves the mythos, and her mom was never really afraid of anything and found them funny.

She inherited her mother's love for baking. She left her her cookbook, which contains an amazing mixed berry pie recipe. Her pie baking abilities rival Alfred's. She even begins to branch out with her recipes and experiment with all sorts of fillings and even cake-pies (fanfic au tie-in heyo). Everybody loves a Barbara baked good. She knows everyone's faves and literally crushes holiday season. Dick is all about the og mixed berry pie, whereas Jay, who loves lemon everything (hc I saw awhile ago that I just love) prefers either a lemon meringue or a raspberry lemon. Tim is all about strawberry open face while Steph prefers cherry cheesecake or pecan pie. Cass and Bruce both love her cinnamon apple pie. Duke loves just about anything she bakes, but especially her more adventurous, contest winning pies like kiwi-blueberry-black cherry and other originals. Kate will die for Babs' cherry pie. Damian prefers blackberry or mixed like Dick. Alfred is a sweet potato pie kind of guy himself. There's a farmer's market in Blüdhaven her mother went with her to when she was a kid that Barbara still goes to get get all the fresh fruit.

Even better than Barbara or Alfred baking alone is them baking together. Roy Harper is also a pretty good baker. They all trade recipes with Martha Kent. M'gann brings wine to the manor and assembles them all for fun days of baking.

She's also totally the type of gal who made a shit ton of cupcakes when she ran for class prez and stayed I from Batgirl duties to finish them. Just saying.

She picks baking back up as Oracle but several hero emergencies lead her to burn perfectly good desserts.

She and Roy will always have puppy-love crushes on one another and be totally oblivious. They both did ballet as kids, love baking, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, shameless empty flirting, and tech. They're completely platonic and really great lifelong friends. They met at a Wayne gala as kids.

As if she wasn't already talented enough, she's completely ambidextrous. I'm jealous. Dick and Wally are left handed. Bruce is similarly ambi. Selina's a leftie. Maybe Alfred too.

She likes to enter contests and win for fun. She's a monster. Everything from baking to video games to weight lifting, she loves showing people up.

Dick, Babs, and Tim all snore atrociously loud. The batfam hates it. She's the quietest out of them all, but she's also a blanket hog. And a major cuddler.

Her favorite colors are grey and green. Purple does deserve an honorable mention however. Her apartment is a fair mix of green and grey decor and covered in books.

She was a total ballerina growing up, just like her mom wanted. That was until she discovered how kick ass martial arts were, and she got a little too jacked to continue with ballet as a formidable career option. Her next best option is becoming a cop at this point, but her father believes that not only would it be far too dangerous but a waste of her skills (like ballet cough cough). This upsets her so much she goes off and invents Batgirl, complete with a stole grappling gun from evidence.

In college she works as a barista and excels at it. Her dream is to open up a cafe/bakery/flower shop with Dinah some day. She wants to call her half Bean Me Up Scotty! (another hc I saw and fell in love with)

Babs is also a pretty good cook being that she became the family chef at a young age (Jim can barbeque and make spaghetti. That's literally it. Maybe some breakfast). Cooking lessons from Alfred certainly helped.

Her personality is so versatile. She can get along with pretty much anyone due to her wide range of interests and skills which is what makes Oracle so bad ass. She's also a Libra so she adapts fairly easily to any group without seeming fake.

She has a podcast where she rants about tech and feminism and politics and plays video games

She SO took Latin in high school and dominated competitions. She loves classical studies and is a dork for Greek and Roman mythology as well as linguistics. She has a pretty good grasp on all of the romance languages, and learns languages fairly quickly.

She always smells like mint and books. She has killer mint shampoo and conditioner, which is a Kean family thing (they just love the scent). She always smells refreshing.

She likes coffee but prefers tea always. She's like Ramona Flowers with tea

Her music taste is total 90s nostalgia (grunge, boybands, air pop, ska, hip hop) meets far too indie 4 u. Yes she's pretentious. Yes she loves chick rock and *NSYNC and Britney and Kurt Cobain and Biggie and deal with it. She also loves shit you've never even heard of. Was totally into the Gotham punk scene as a teen.

She collects vinyl and books and horror flicks ugh hipster queen

She loves spicy food and Dick cannot stand it. They both like sour candy though

If your Barbara Gordon didn't graduate high school at 16 she doesn't have rights

She was all of the Robin's first crush. Duh. Tim will always think she's the gold standard of women. He likes that she usually sticks up for him. He doesn't mind being seen as her male equivalent lmao

At some point Jay and Babs are roommates and it's literally the best I'll talk abt that later

Her type is guys with dark hair or blonde gals.

#barbara gordon #batgirl #oracle #batfam #batfam headcanons #librarian babs #babs gordon #dick grayson #dinah lance #dickbabs #dinahbabs #tim drake #damian wayne #jason todd #duke thomas #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #ballerina!babs #roy harper #martha kent #selina kyle #dc #m'gann m'orzz #baking #pizza #barbara kean gordon #dc headcanons

[atlasifyllm]

Because yes (Part 2)

21. Your most artistic OC

Not counting the various singer OCs, I’m gonna go with the obvious one and say Nio in Chrisis. She is a personification of my creativity, after all!

22. Is there any OC of yours people tend to mischaracterize? If yes, how?

In all honesty I can see people getting Ruby Raleigh (DOTS:DD) wrong. She does seem like the typical anime protag (well, maybe she kinda is ^^;) but I feel like she’s not as... annoying, per say. I feel like she’s always had some sort of heroism in her this whole time that she’s never noticed before, but seems covered by the “gluttonous punk rocker” sona she has.

23. Introduce OC that has changed from your first idea concerning what the character would be like?

I actually may or may not be posting about this later in the evening ^^;

24. If you could meet one OC of yours, who would it be and why?

I’m sorry I love Cobalt too much, but I wanna say him. I wanna give him a big hug.

25. The OC that resembles you the most (same hobby, height, shared like/dislike for something etc?)

...Tigerlily, aha- We’re both short, have short hair, pretty gay, and honestly pretty useless. And we’ve both done bad things and felt those bad things, but I want to change Tig to be a positive character, so I can be positive too! We’re also both very picky eaters, whoops-

26. Have you ever had to change your OC’s design or something else about them against your will?

Emphasis on against my will. I changed a bunch of my OCs from a previous time into the DOTS characters everyone knows now because I was afraid from all the backlash I had recieved from them, especially from someone I don’t like talking about now.

Although it was a tragedy to scrap something so dear to me, I made not one, but TWO different stories because of that!

27. Any OCs that were inspired by a certain song?

First off, Yang Blake (DOTS: DD) was based off of Bulletproof Heart by My Chemical Romance! I was pretty blank on his personality at first, but the second I heard Bulletproof Heart while making his character he just sorta ended up as an embodiement of that song! I can never actually talk about Yang’s personality without mentioning the song!

This next one’s pretty recent actually! I haven’t drawn her digitally yet, but the song Valiant Heart by Nyxtheshield featuring Melodiva inspired my OC Princess Orlene from Dragon Destiny! I imagined the song to be her singing to Storm Gray, another character in the story, and I ended up getting the sweet and calm and flowing voice as inspiration for Orlene’s personality! I had already made her basic concept and design, but the song definitely helped with her personality.

28. Your most dangerous OC?

First off without spoilers, Ater from DOTS: DD. She’s never actually meant to be a main villain during DOTS: DD, but in all honesty she’s the most dangerous that I can actually say.

Going off of non-spoilery territory... - Dark from Last Light! He’s the unofficial “king” of the Darksiders in the story, he’s manipulative and will get EXTREMELY enraged when something doesn’t go his way. Did I mention he’s like part butterfly monster? Yeah. - Ringo from PSG! Although he’s an anime parody character, he’s solely meant to become bloodlusty in the story, nearly wiping out all his friends with the exception of Momo, who isn’t present during said scene - Ventus from AuAg. He’s not particularly evil, though a bit lacking on morals and therefore ending up with The “King of Switchblade Fights” title. If he puts his all into a fight, you’re either dead or about to be sent on a very urgent hospital trip.

29. Which one of your OCs would go investigate an abandoned house at night without telling anyone they’re going?

Zephyr from Sky Games is the ONE that comes into my head. I admit he’s technically a game character model, but he’s less talk and more action. Also he acts typically emo without even wearing black. Weird.

30. Which one of your OCs would most likely have a secret stuffed animal collection?

Rose Morganite from DOTS: DD and Nimbus Fulmen from AuAg. Both are sweet kids that honestly get put through too much to handle at their age, emphasis on Sweet. Nimbus is sorta akin to Steven in SU which is why I imagine him to love them, Rose just happens to love stuffed animals since she’s honestly a bit more childish 

31. Pick one OC of yours and explain what their tumblr blog would be like (what they reblog, layout, anything really)

These two sounded the most funny to me so here ya go:

Ruby (DOTS: DD) reblogs a bunch of neon lights and rock bandom things, she’s probably obsessed with red/black color schemes so anything with that too. Also maybe even a sword or two, can’t go wrong with some cool-looking weaponry!

Ventus (AuAg) is... so terribly edgy tbh. He reblogs a buncha lyrics to the song “Lights Out” by MSI (PUNCH YA LIGHTS OUT, HIT THE PAVEMENT, THAT’S WHAT I CALL ENTERTAINMENT), knives, knives, more knives, that kinda shit. But also he’d reblog soap carving videos until he reaches post limit. He’s honestly not in love with killing 24/7; the guy just loves knives

32. Which one of your OCs would be the most suitable horror game protagonist and why?

Erin from Beyond Repair. She’s already mostly alone throughout the story, which already in itself seems on the border of horror. Also she reacts to things much less, she’s not really afraid of anything so it’d just be the video that goes “In the name of the father, the son, and holy spirit, fuck off please”

33. Your shyest OC?

Rose Morganite from DOTS: DD, definitely. As youngest of the paladins, especially of a pink soul, she’s overall shy around adults and other people. She likes being alone if she can, but rather than Tig’s crippling social anxiety she’s more of a shy kid than anything else.

34. Do you have any twin characters? 35. Any sibling characters?

Note: NO SHIPPING ANY OF THEM. EVER. 

Twins: -Yin and Yang (DOTS: DD/DOTS: SF) - Arke and Iris (DOTSverse) - Turquoise and Zetto (DOTS: 5x5) Technically they are like one day apart or so but they see themselves as twins and age at the exact same rate. 5x5 Paladins are weird in that way - Roman and Remus (Dragon Destiny) - Ultra and Aqua (Dragon Destiny) - PT and Prince Azurite (SOTGC) - Pandia and Cynthia (DOTSverse) - Robin and Roxy (Zero Percent) - Nox and Pax (My newest story, Empiretale: Starlight Speedway)

Siblings: - Tig and Cobalt (DOTS:DD/DOTS:SF) - Alba and Ater (DOTSverse) - Prince Helios and Princess Selene (DOTSverse) - Quinn Magenta and Pink (Dragon Destiny) - Ventus and Nimbus (AuAg) - Caligo and Luna (AuAg) - Chris and... whoever they are (D.EXE) - Lux, Nox, and Pax (ET: SS)

36. Do you have OC pairs where the other part belongs to someone else (siblings, lovers, friends etc)?

Nahh... actually I don’t remember if I ever did. I’m gonna say no though.

37. Introduce an OC who is not quite human

I’ve talked about the paladins before, and the meme says an OC and not a whole race, sooo-

Storm and Chai are half dragons! Though the dragons are more based off of wolves since I suck at lizards right now O_O; whoopsie. They’re part of a science experiment, so they’re only two people out of a semi-big population of half-dragons. I drew Chai and his dragon form last night! 

38. Which one of your OCs would be the best dancer?

I want to say Yang from DOTS: DD since he’s the one I jokingly said took ballet at one point in his life. Also I say jokingly because the dude was obsessed with rap music as a kid which probably doesn’t go too well with ballet. Aka kiddo Yang is based off of Abridged Jaden Yuki

39. Introduce any character you want

This is Omega!Nature. He’s a nature fairy from A Story Told and 100% done with everyone’s shit. He really hates humans but hangs out with two of them because he failed at doing a Fairy(tm) Prank on them. He’s an asshole and it’s charming because he looks like Tinkerbell’s emo phase mixed with the Onceler with the voice of Fidget from Dust: An Elysian Tail. 

40. Any fond memories linked to your characters? Feel free to share!

I have very fond memories with Blake, Ruby, Cobalt, and Tigerlily from DOTS: DD, because they were my first original four characters I made back in 5th grade from a story I ended up continuing till this day! They had a lot of name changes, their first names have been Jaden, Jade, Chris, and Onishi, in that order. Because they’re my most developed four OCs, I have fond memories of seeing them grow into the characters they are now. Even if Blake somehow kept getting scrapped them coming back as an entirely new character. Huh.

#mana speaks;