ofswordsandpens:

ofswordsandpens:

For the anon who asked me how I imagine the seven:

Annabeth. Legs, legs, legs for days. Sharp eyes and sharper words. Cries when animals die in movies but not people. Red or pale blue dresses. Big, lofty, voluminous curls. That baby sitter you have thats your first crush. Bites the inside of her cheek. Boxy jawline and delicate features and turns heads when walking down the street. Just wants a hug but will deny it. A golden crown and golden wings. Bruised knuckles. Blonde ambition.

Jason. Warm. A golden meadow in the sun. Rosy cheeks. Typecast as Prince Charming, the Quarterback, the Homecoming King. The proverbial son. Everyone’s crush. Can make the perfect paper airplane. A certain air of sadness. The perfect part to his hair. Accidentally shocks everyone. Fuzzy socks. Tall and athletic. Carries his golden retrievers in his arms. Knows he’s seen as perfect and hates it.

Hazel. Small and sprite-like. Tucked beneath chins when hugged. The little birds that sing in trees. Big eyes. Can’t hold a grudge against a friend to save her life. Tight, springy, corkscrew curls that just barely brush her shoulders like a dark, dense cloud. Puts her hands on her friends’ cheeks. A smile that could light up a room. Beautiful, warm, brown.

Leo. A mop of curls thats always blown back. Short. Tells jokes to cover the pain. Long thin fingers that are covered in cuts and bruises. Fireworks in the street at midnight. Shirts with the sleeves rolled up. A smile that says he will set something on fire. Accidentally explodes the microwave. Flamin’ Hot Cheetos. Unrequited love. Jumps into hugs. Likes making other people laugh. Sticks his tongue out in arguments.

Percy. A trouble maker smile. A daring smirk. The feeling you get when the roller coaster drops. Blasting Queen with the car windows rolled down. Late night city walks. Killer hair, dark and thick and tousled. A sharp jaw that clenches. Ducking beneath doorframes. Hugging your mom. The ocean during a storm. Twirling a baseball bat. A school uniform with an untucked shirt, a loose tie. Spontaneous slow dances. Baking cookies in the middle of the night.

Piper. Willowy. Average height that may be considered on the tall side if she weren’t surrounded by tall people. Snorts when she laughs. Hair that she cut herself at 2 in the morning. Different colored nail polish on every finger. Fantasy books. Songs with heavy bass. Scraped knees and elbows. Doesn’t like to wear revealing clothes. Poprocks. A smile that holds a secret. Sunset orange is her favorite color. 

Frank. A teddybear. A round, joyful face. Is genuine when he says “Good game.” Makes the tough calls when asked for it. Early morning practice. Smiles at babies. Hoodies, hoodies, hoodies. Rubbing the back of your neck. Always is the shoulder to cry on. Hitting the bullseye every time. Snow ball fights. Definitely has turned into a dog to feel the pure joy of sticking his head out a car window. 

Thalia. A constellation of freckles. Stick and pokes tattoos. Yelling into the night at the top of her lungs. Seems like she should be tall when she’s not. The soft, green bristles of a pine tree. Dark, smoky, eyes. Always changing her hair in attempt to cope with an immortal appearance. Cold hands. Silver rings and silver necklaces and silver piercings. Head banging at concerts. A sparkling blanket of snow in the early morning. Quoth the Raven, Nevermore.

Nico. An unfortunate haircut that is saved by dark, fluffy curls. The sound a deck of cards makes when shuffled. A voice that can be so so gentle. Haunted mansions. Shadows that drape from him like a cloak. Dungeons and Dragons. Long, slender fingers. A great laugh that cracks. Plucking petals from flowers. McDonalds at three in the morning. A pensive disposition. Always comforts lost souls. Moonlight sonata.