Artificial Intelligence
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GIVE ME A LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG PERCABETH HEADCANNON WHERE PERCY WOULD ALWAYS WAKE A DIRTY JOKE AROUND ANNABETH. WHENEVER SHES IN HER CABIN, ALONE, WITH PIPER, P


Sure! Here’s a long Percy and Annabeth headcanon based on your scenario: --- In the warm sun of Camp Half-Blood, amidst the laughter of demigods and the sweet scent of nectar and ambrosia wafting from the dining pavilion, Percy Jackson had developed a peculiar habit that very few could understand. It wasn't just that he had a penchant for mischief; it was the specific type of mischief that seemed to revolve entirely around cracking dirty jokes at the absolute worst possible times — especially when it concerned Annabeth Chase. It all started innocently enough. One day, Percy barged into Annabeth's cabin while she was deep into her architectural blueprints for a new battle strategy involving siege weapons. He had just come from a swim in the lake, water dripping from his tousled hair and a mischievous grin plastered on his face. "Hey, Wise Girl," he called out, his voice brimming with playful enthusiasm. "Ever heard the one about the dirty sea sponge?" Instead of laughing, Annabeth narrowed her eyes, her pencil poised in mid-air. "Percy, I’m really not in the mood for your childish jokes right now." But before she could elaborate on how serious she was, Piper McLean, her best friend, who had been lounging on Annabeth's bed, burst into laughter. She had a knack for finding Percy’s antics funny, perhaps too funny, especially when it involved Annabeth’s penchant for anger. Percy saw Piper's laughter as an invitation. “Alright, alright, I get it! They say you can't trust stairs... they’re always up to something!” His eyes sparkled with mischievous glee, and Annabeth felt the imminent explosion of irritation wash over her. As laughter erupted from Piper, Annabeth stood up, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Seriously, Percy? We’re in the middle of an important mission here! Can you keep it in your pants for just one minute?” It was a losing battle; Percy delighted in the way he could push all of her buttons. The cleaner her plans became, the more effervescent his jokes flowed. Weeks passed, and it became an unofficial game between them. Percy would sneak into her cabin while she worked, often catching her off-guard. There was the time she was studying some battle formations, and he waltzed in with, “So, I heard that Annabeth Chase can really bring the house down. Is it because she has a strong foundation or...?” Piper was doubled over in laughter, tears in her eyes, while Annabeth groaned and buried her face in her hands. “I swear, if you don’t get out of here in the next five seconds…” But Percy would never take that cue. He found it infinitely entertaining to provoke her, pushing the envelope of her patience until it almost broke. And then, there was the afternoon at the training arena. Annabeth was vigorously training with her dagger, precision unyielding as she struck at targets—until she caught sight of Percy watching her from a distance, his smirk revealing he had a joke brewing. “Hey, Annabeth!" he shouted, trying to distract her. "Why do mermaids always wear seashells? Because B-shells are too small!” The dagger went flying, missing him by mere inches, and Percy had a moment of sheer amusement—until he spotted her furious expression. The laughter that echoed around the training arena was abruptly cut short by Annabeth’s menacing glare. “Jackson, one day you’re going to push me too far. You wouldn’t want to see me when I’m mad!” She almost wanted to storm over and shake him, but he just grinned even wider, finding her frustration only deepening his resolve to tell another one. By this point, the rest of the camp had caught wind of their back-and-forth. Friends would place bets on how long it would take before Annabeth snapped again, and it became a daily ceremony of sorts for Percy: enter, tell a joke, run, and relish in the aftermath. Even the gods above watched in mirth as they observed the antics of their favorite demigod duo. The culmination of all this came on a particularly chaotic day. Annabeth was in her cabin, trying to center herself as the stress from the latest quest weighed heavily on her shoulders. She was trying to think through the blueprints for their new base of operations when once again, Percy burst through the door without knocking. This time, he wasn't going to hold back. "Did I tell you I’m going to start a fruit company?” he said, his grin wide. “I’ll call it... *the Banana Stand*! You get yellow, and I get those potassium jokes going!” Piper, who’d been hanging out in the corner, began laughing so hard that she nearly fell off the chair. But this time, Annabeth snapped. “Percy, if you don’t stop this right now, I swear, I will throw every sharp thing I own at you!” she yelled, her frustration boiling over. Percy, ever the brave soul when it came to Annabeth’s threats, just shrugged and smiled wider. “But you know I’m in shape—for a good time!” With the final straw hanging precariously, Annabeth finally exploded. “I can’t with you right now! You really don’t know when to quit!” She capped her marker and stormed out. The sound of her feet pounding on the wooden floor echoed through the cabin. She crashed out of the cabin only to meet the amused faces of her friends, who witnessed her mental breakdown with a mix of sympathy and bewilderment. Percy, however, stood there laughing, the realization of his antics washing over him. “Okay, okay, maybe I went too far,” he admitted with a chuckle, scratching the back of his head. “How about I bring you some blue food in penance?” But as he groveled, he couldn’t help but smirk at the chaos he had left in his path. In his heart, he knew Annabeth valued his sense of humor (most days), even if it sometimes pushed her to her limits. Despite the days that ended in exasperation, they shared a bond that was irreplaceable—a connection that weathered each dirty joke and rolling eyes. Even in moments when Annabeth felt like she might lose it, somewhere deep down, she knew their playful banter was just another chapter in the quirky love story that defined them both. And so the dance continued, with Percy and Annabeth locked in their perpetual routine of jokes, laughter, frustration, and ultimately, love—each dirty punchline drawing them closer together, one groan at a time. --- Feel free to adjust any part of this headcanon to better fit what you had in mind! Update (2025-06-18): Once upon a time in Camp Half-Blood, the sun shone brightly over the cabins, casting warm rays on the chatter and laughter that filled the air. Our favorite hero, Percy Jackson, had recently developed a mischievous habit that had both his friends rolling with laughter and one certain daughter of Athena on the brink of insanity: he couldn’t resist popping into Annabeth's cabin with a perfectly timed dirty joke. It all started one lazy afternoon when Percy strolled up to Annabeth’s cabin, the door slightly ajar. Hearing her and Piper giggling about something, he saw his chance. Without even knocking, he barged in, a grin plastered on his face. “Hey, Wise Girl! I’ve got a great one for you!” he declared, and before either of them could respond, he launched into a joke that would have made even Hermes raise an eyebrow. Annabeth, who had been attempting to focus on her blueprints for a new strategic design for the next Capture the Flag, groaned. “Not now, Seaweed Brain!” she yelled, but Percy was unfazed. “Okay, okay. How about this? Why did the demigod break up with his girlfriend?” He leaned in for dramatic effect. “Because she was too ‘clingy’!” Piper erupted with laughter, much to Annabeth’s chagrin. “Percy, seriously!” But it only fueled his fire. With each new joke, Annabeth’s patience wore thinner. “You can’t possibly think that’s funny!” she shouted, her pencil tapping furiously against the table in an attempt to drown out his laughter. But Percy was relentless, and Piper’s giggles only encouraged him more. Another time, Percy thought he’d really stepped into winning territory. He found Annabeth in her cabin, deep in concentration while working on complicated blueprints that would rival even Daedalus’ best designs. He tiptoed in, looked at her for a moment, and then announced, “What do you call a demi-god with a bad reputation? A ‘bad-tion!’ Get it?” This time, Annabeth unleashed a string of colorful metaphors about his intelligence—and not in a gentle tone, either. When she finally turned to face him, her eyes narrowed, and Percy could see the storm brewing. “I’m really going to scream if you don’t knock it off!” The mixture of irritation and amusement in her voice only egged him on further, and he howled with laughter as Annabeth facepalmed. But things escalated quickly. During training a few days later, Percy was feeling particularly bold. Watching Annabeth throw daggers with deadly precision, an idea sparked in his head. “Hey, Wise Girl! Want to hear a joke about daggers?” Percy shouted over the sound of clanging metal. Annabeth whipped around, her blade still in hand. “No! I’m training, and I don’t have time for your jokes!” But he continued. “Okay, okay! It’s about to get sharp,” he smirked, leaning against a tree. That did it. With an exasperated scream, Annabeth hurled her dagger at him. Fortunately—or unfortunately for Percy, depending on how you looked at it—the dagger whizzed by him, barely missing his shoulder and embedding itself into the wood behind him. Anyone watching couldn’t help but burst into laughter, even Percy, who was too busy catching his breath to realize the danger he’d just escaped. “That was really close,” he said, breathless and still chuckling. Annabeth's face was livid. “I am SO done with you!” she yelled, throwing her hands up in exasperation. In that moment, with her mental state rapidly crashing under the weight of his jokes and her failed attempts to concentrate on training, she announced, “I need a break!” and stormed out of the arena, leaving a crowd of amused demigods and a still-laughing Percy in her wake. But the fun didn’t end there. After Annabeth stormed out, Percy began recounting the events of the day to the others, exaggerating how close he came to losing an eye. Even Piper, still chuckling over the previous antics, came to Annabeth's defense, but all in good fun. Their laughter echoed throughout Camp Half-Blood. Eventually, Annabeth returned, somewhat calmer but still visibly annoyed. “If you tell one more dirty joke around me, I’m throwing every blueprint I have at you,” she warned, and Percy, with a devilish grin, couldn’t resist. “Oh really? Is that a promise?” His grin widened, knowing she was too clever to fall for that catch. Despite her frustration, deep down, Annabeth knew that Percy’s jokes, ridiculous as they were, were just his way of trying to make her smile amidst her serious nature. And whether or not she would admit it, his antics made life at Camp Half-Blood infinitely more entertaining, even if she did have to remind him every now and then (with varying degrees of success) that there was more to life than laughter—especially when it involved very sharp daggers. And so, the saga of Percy’s dirty jokes continued—a comical battle of patience between an unstoppable jokester and a mortal punisher, leading to endless laughter, frustration, and evolving friendship that only deepened with each absurd encounter. Update (2025-06-18): In the warm glow of Camp Half-Blood’s sun-drenched days, the dynamic duo of Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase could often be found navigating the ups and downs of teenage life—and, of course, their burgeoning epic romance. But one thing that could always be counted on was Percy’s relentless pursuit of Annabeth's reaction with his particularly crass and often ridiculous jokes. Percy had discovered that nothing brightened his day quite like barging into Annabeth’s private moments with the most scandalous, off-the-wall punchlines he could muster. Just picture it: Annabeth, deep in her thoughts, meticulously piecing together blueprints for the latest Camp Half-Blood infrastructure project, her brow furrowed in concentration. Suddenly, the door slams open, and in bursts Percy, a mischievous grin plastered across his face. "Hey Annie, want to hear a dirty joke?" he would call out, completely unapologetic. His timing was impeccable. Piper, Annabeth’s best friend, would usually be camped nearby, unable to contain her laughter—her snorts echoing as she stifled her giggles into oblivion. “Oh no, not again!” Annabeth would groan, rolling her eyes so hard they could practically fall out. The jokes varied from silly puns to borderline inappropriate tales that made even Piper break out into full-on belly laughter. “Percy!” Annabeth would shout, half-exasperated, half-entertained, knowing full well the chaos was about to ensue. “You need to knock! I’m busy!” But of course, busy was not a word in Percy Jackson's vocabulary when it came to lightening the mood. Every day was a chance for him to tease her, and he took that responsibility very seriously. One fateful afternoon, while she was bent over a particularly elaborate set of blueprints, mapping out a new training area for demigods, he swung the door open with a flourish. “So, Annabeth, what do you call a dirty archaeologist?” He paused, enjoying the effect he was having on her already tense demeanor. “A grave digger!” The eye-roll that followed was legendary. Annabeth’s incredulous stare could’ve melted stone. The climax of this little comedic skit came when she finally snapped, yelling, “Percy!” in a high-pitched tone that could shatter glass. He was practically rolling on the floor, clutching his sides, tears streaming down his cheeks from laughter. Unfazed, Annabeth barely processed his laughter as she hurled her dagger at him—just missing his shoulder by mere inches. “Get out of here before I throw something else at you!” The rest of camp found this hilarious. They loved to tease Annabeth about Percy’s antics, and the more exasperated she got, the more encouraged he became. “Come on, Seaweed Brain!” she’d say, “This isn’t a circus, and I’m not your clown!” But Piper just kept laughing, barely able to contain her amusement. Even she would often encourage him, claiming it was their ‘unique way of bonding’. But after too many jest-filled interruptions, Annabeth—a girl known for her cool demeanor—finally reached her breaking point. She slammed down her pencil with such fervor that it bounced off the table and hit the wall. “You think this is funny? You think I can concentrate when you do this!” She stormed out of her cabin one day, having an epic meltdown right in front of the training arena, heading straight for the shores of Long Island. Gone was the wise daughter of Athena, now just a temperature-raising tornado. Percy, seeing the catastrophe he had inadvertently caused, immediately sobered up. He chased after her, calling her name, realizing he might have crossed a line this time. “Wait, Annabeth! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to get you so worked up!” The whole camp buzzed around the situation—Nico grinning knowingly, Leo cracking jokes about it, and even Chiron shaking his head, attempting to manage the chaos but equally amused. In a rather surprising twist, once he caught up to her, Percy found that Annabeth, in her spiraling of emotions, had actually cast a spell of honesty upon herself. With tears mixed with laughter blurring her vision, she began to recount a few of her own dirty jokes, which, to everyone’s surprise, were juicier than anything Percy had come up with. By the time the sun set, the two of them were sitting on the beach, side by side, laughing and throwing pebbles into the waves. Amid jokes and laughter, a covert truce was formed. "Alright, but from now on," Annabeth declared, "When I’m busy, you knock! We’ll make a deal. I’ll try to keep a straight face if you promise to keep the knock-knock jokes clean!” Percy, grinning widely, agreed with a mock salute. “Deal! But you owe me one for almost throwing a dagger at me!” And with that, laughter echoed into the twilight, the tension effortlessly washed away by the waves—just another chapter in their hilarious story of teenage love and adventure. Update (2025-06-18): Title: Dirty Jokes and Dagger Throws In the world of demigods, where monsters lurked around every corner and quests could lead anywhere from the depths of the Underworld to the heights of Mount Olympus, Percy Jackson had a special form of chaos that didn’t involve any monsters: his penchant for dirty jokes, particularly when Annabeth Chase was around. It all started on a particularly humid day at Camp Half-Blood. Annabeth was in her cabin, poring over blueprints for some new architectural marvel she hoped to build for the camp, a reconstruction of the forge that would withstand monster attacks. It was a serious project demanding her full attention. Little did she know, however, that in mere moments, her concentration would be shattered by an all-too-familiar voice. “Hey, Wise Girl!” Percy barged into her cabin with his usual bravado. “What do you call an alligator in a vest?” Annabeth sighed, her pen hovering over the blueprints. “Not this again, Percy. I’m busy.” “An investigator!” he exclaimed, cracking up at his own joke. But to his surprise, Annabeth didn’t even give a slight smile. Instead, she rolled her eyes and focused back on her drawings. “Very funny, Jackson. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have actual work to do.” It didn’t take Percy's antics long to catch the attention of Piper, who was visiting Annabeth for some girl time. Unbeknownst to them, Percy had practically made it his mission to invade the girls' space, determined to make Annabeth crack a smile—one dirty joke at a time. Piper, on the other hand, had always found Percy’s juvenile sense of humor hilarious. Now, she was stifling giggles behind her hand, clearly enjoying the chaotic dynamic unfolding before her. “Okay, okay! How about this one?” Percy continued, not deterred by Annabeth’s lack of response. “Why did the banana go to the doctor? Because it wasn’t peeling very well!” “You know, I could peel you like a banana if you don’t leave me alone,” Annabeth retorted, still not looking up from her work. Her frustration was palpable, but Percy was too busy grinning to notice. Finally, after a string of jokes led to increasingly ridiculous puns, Percy burst into Annabeth’s cabin again, hoping to earn at least a chuckle. “Hey, Annabeth! Do you want to hear something dirty?” “Percy!” she snapped, looking up finally. “I swear, if this is another one of your dumb jokes, I will throw you out of this cabin myself.” “It’s not a joke—well, it is—but I mean, seriously! This really is dirty! So, what do you think of a mud wrestling match?” Annabeth’s eyes widened, completely losing patience. “You’re unbearable!” she shouted, standing up and grabbing her dagger from the table. “If you don’t get out right now—” Before she could finish her sentence, she hurled her dagger at him with more accuracy than he had anticipated. It flew past him, missing by mere inches and embedding itself into the wooden wall behind him. The sound echoed in the cabin as he stood there, frozen in comedic disbelief. “Was that supposed to be a warning or a suggestion?” Percy asked, trying to maintain a nonchalant demeanor. His laughter felt like a tidal wave crashing against Annabeth’s sanity. Everyone in camp soon heard the commotion. They often found great amusement in the friendly rivalry between the two demigods, especially when it involved Percy's frequent interruptions of Annabeth’s intense focus. “Just a friendly reminder!” he called out, waving the dagger she threw back at her with mock innocence. But Annabeth was done. “I can’t take this anymore!” she screamed, storming out of her cabin, leaving Percy trying to stifle his laughter. Piper, still doubled over in laughter, could barely catch her breath as she shook her head in disbelief. “Are you kidding me? She’s going to blow!” Piper forced out between giggles. And blow she did. Annabeth had reached her boiling point outside. Campers watched in confusion as she paced back and forth, muttering under her breath about ‘absolute idiocy’ and ‘never going to get any work done.’ Her usual composed demeanor shattered, she felt a mental breakdown creeping in. This was supposed to be her summer of rebuilding, not chaos-filled interruptions. Meanwhile, Percy watched from afar, feeling a mix of guilt and amusement. Although he respected Annabeth’s intelligence, he couldn’t help but keep up the banter. He cared for her deeply, even if it seemed like his antics drove her to the edge. As much as he enjoyed making her laugh, he didn’t want to see her this upset. But before he could decide to find a way to make it up to her, he resolved to give her a little space. Their playful banter was part of their dynamic, but he realized he had crossed a line. Maybe it was time for him to tone it down—at least for today. As Annabeth calmed down, breathing deeply and pacing less frantically, she finally caught sight of Percy in the distance, gazing sheepishly in her direction. She raised an eyebrow, caught between wanting to keep her anger and realizing how ridiculous the whole situation was. With a grudging smile fighting its way to her lips, she almost laughed—but instead, she just flicked him off casually, a smirk playing on her face. “Okay, maybe that one was funny,” she muttered, heading back into her cabin. “See! I knew you’d come around!” Percy shouted, racing to catch up with her. And just like that, the cycle continued: Annabeth would find a way to maintain her focus, while Percy would be there to challenge it—one dirty joke at a time, and one dagger throw at a time. After all, what was a relationship without a little chaos and a lot of laughter? Update (2025-06-18): **Percy and Annabeth's Dirty Joke Escapades: A Percy Jackson Headcanon** Once upon a time at Camp Half-Blood, there was a unique dynamic between Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase that had everyone entertained—most of the time. It all started as a silly game for Percy, who quickly discovered that making dirty jokes was his way of getting a rise out of Annabeth. She was the epitome of focused determination, someone who thrived on plans, blueprints, and intricate strategies. However, that only made Percy's comedic mission more irresistible. Every afternoon, Annabeth would retreat to her cabin, surrounded by sketches of potential build designs for demigod structures or battle tactics for the next quest. It was her sacred space, her sanctuary—a refuge from the chaos of camp life. But inevitably, Percy would swoop in like a hurricane, barging through the cabin door with the kind of chaotic energy that only he exuded. “Hey, Wise Girl! What did the ocean say to the beach?” he’d start, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Percy, please. I’m busy,” Annabeth would reply, not looking up from her blueprints, but every fiber of her being was already tensed in preparation for his punchline. “Nothing, it just waved!” And just like that, Percy's infectious laughter would resonate off the cabin walls. Piper, who would often be hanging out with Annabeth, would be far less composed. The instant Percy entered with his usual quip, she'd burst into fits of laughter that echoed through the cabin. “Oh my gods, did you hear that one?!” she’d manage to say in between breaths, which only encouraged Percy to keep going. Annabeth, on the other hand, was about as fed up as a demigod could get. The eye rolls became a regular occurrence, layered with the occasional tooth-gritting smile that told herself to just endure it. But every so often, her cool-headed facade cracked a little more when Percy would strike with an exceptionally cringy joke. One fateful afternoon, while working on blueprints for a new camp building, Annabeth was deeply engrossed in her plans, trying to determine if they could fit enough bunk beds to accommodate the growing number of demigods. That was her mission. That was her life. Until, of course, Percy happened. “Annie, why don’t scientists trust atoms?” he announced, grinning like he just discovered fire. “Because they make up everything?” she replied flatly, not even turning around. “Not because they make up everything!” he cackled. “But because they have a tendency to split and make things explosive—just like our love life!” This time, Annabeth’s pencil was at risk of snapping in her grip, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “Percy!” she exclaimed, this time looking up with eyes that positively glared daggers. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to—” “Throw your daggers at me? Oh wait!” he joked, dodging back out of reach, triggering another round of laughter from Piper. That was it. The combination of exasperation and sheer embarrassment reached its limit. Annabeth picked up her dagger, eyes narrowing dangerously. “Dodge this, Seaweed Brain!” she shouted, and threw her dagger in one swift motion, missing him by a hair’s breadth. Percy stared at the dagger embedded in the wall beside him, eyes wide in a mixture of surprise and admiration. “Wow, that was close! I must really be living rent-free in your head!” he yelled, laughing so hard he nearly doubled over. For everyone around, this became the comedic highlight of the camp. Percy’s knack for inciting Annabeth’s ire had become a form of entertainment, and whispers of it spread like wildfire. Despite her annoyance, everyone else found the interaction hilarious. They loved the way Percy could simultaneously infuriate and endear himself to Annabeth. The prankster and the strategist, an odd couple that could light up a dull day at camp like flames to a bonfire. However, one particularly chaotic day, after a series of dirty jokes that just wouldn’t quit—ranging from puns to outright ridiculous innuendos—Annabeth had finally had enough. As she paced in her cabin, trying to gather herself, her mind racing as her frustration boiled over, she stormed out with a mental checklist of priorities she could manage without Percy’s antics. “Why are you leaving?” Piper called after her, still chuckling at the latest joke. “Because I’m about to have a mental breakdown from all of his ridiculousness!” Annabeth screeched, her voice echoing down the cabin walkway. Percy, hearing her dramatic outburst, skidded to a halt and genuinely summoned his concern. “Annie, wait! I didn’t mean it like that!” He paused, his brow furrowed, attempting to decipher how to fix the chaos he had evidently caused. But Annabeth was already marching away, her mental checklist now transforming into a rollercoaster of emotions, teetering between exasperation and loving annoyance at the boy who never failed at getting under her skin. It didn’t matter how much laughter and joy he brought with his perpetual joking; it was the incessant pushing of her patience that drove her over the edge. In the end, despite the chaos and the broken tension, there was something immensely affectionate between them—a bond forged in silly jokes, tightly knitted under the weight of wild emotions. And after her brief escape from the mishaps of humor, she would always come back to him, rolling her eyes but smiling all the same because that was the charm of Percy Jackson: he might incite her to become furious, only to remind her of how much love was woven into every quip and laugh they shared. Annabeth would never fully admit it, but deep down, she knew something important: behind every dirty joke and playful jab, there was a heartfelt connection that not even daggers could cut through. It might drive her crazy, but that was just part of the enchanting journey they were on together—one that often included laughter, frustration, and a love for the ages. Update (2025-06-18): Once upon a time at Camp Half-Blood, beneath the warm sun and the ever-watchful trees, Percy Jackson had stumbled into a new pastime — making Annabeth Chase’s life just a little more chaotic with his collection of dirty jokes. It started innocent enough, with a few quips here and there, but as the days turned into weeks, it became a full-blown tradition — one that Annabeth neither wanted nor could escape. Whenever she was alone in her cabin, poring over blueprints of her latest architectural marvel or studying scrolls of ancient magic (which, in her world, was basically like drawing diagrams for her future career plans), he would burst through the door like a hurricane, a sly grin plastered across his face. “Hey, Wise Girl! Want to hear a joke?” he’d call out, never waiting for her answer before launching into his latest mishap involving something rude and entirely inappropriate. “Percy, please not again,” Annabeth would groan, rolling her eyes so hard he was surprised they didn’t get stuck. But there was always a flicker of amusement in her gray eyes, usually interrupted by Piper McLean, who sat in the corner, desperately suppressing her laughter. Piper had become a willing accomplice, caught in the whirlwind of Percy’s antics. One day, as Annabeth was working on intricate blueprints for a new structure to better train demigods, Percy made his grand entrance, a twinkle in his eyes and a joke on the tip of his tongue. “Why did the Greek god break up with his girlfriend?” he asked, taking a dramatic pause. “Because she kept asking for too much ‘temple’ space!” Piper erupted into laughter, nearly rolling off her seat, while Annabeth shot Percy a death glare that could have melted the walls of Olympus. “You are insufferable!” she yelled, throwing a piece of parchment at him, which he dodged with a laugh. “Seriously, there’s a perfectly good library full of scrolls outside, and you decided to barge in here with… that?” It didn’t stop there. Over the weeks, Percy's relentless teasing only grew more brazen. With each joke, Annabeth’s patience wore thinner. It was like watching a tightrope walker on a windy day. As the laughs spread among the campers, Annabeth plotted her revenge, but Percy’s charm was a strong shield; even when she was furious, a part of her couldn’t help but find him endearing. Then came an infamous training session when tempers flared. She was practicing her throwing skills — daggers slick with a sheen of determination. As Percy snuck up, about to deliver another joke that would be the cherry on top of that day’s chaos, he got a little too close to her personal space while managing to trip over his own feet. “You think that was a good joke? Watch this!” he said, preparing for impact. But it was the last straw for Annabeth. With a flick of her wrist, she tossed her dagger — a perfect shot that missed him by mere inches, embedding itself into the wood of a nearby post. Silence fell before the laughter erupted again, Percy doubled over, gasping and holding his sides. “Wow, you really are trying to kill me!” he wheezed, clearly unbothered, while Annabeth stomped her foot in frustration. “You think this is funny? I’m going to—” And then it happened. As if every bit of pent-up frustration ignited in one fraught moment, Annabeth stormed out of her cabin, past giggling demigods and overconfident warriors who dared to chuckle at her expense. In a whirlwind of anger, she had a mini mental breakdown. “I am done! No more PMS Percabeth teaming up against me,” she huffed, walking past the smirking Aphrodite cabin who had gathered to witness the drama unfold. Somewhere amidst her storming off, she heard Piper still cackling desperately behind her, “Wait, Annabeth! Come back! What do you call a god who loves to fit in? A ‘hygieia-needs-a-better-joke’!” Percy found it hilarious. His face was split in a grin that could rival any sunbeam. “She’s going to need a lot more than humor fixated on jokes to bounce back now!” Days turned into weeks, and the constant back-and-forth between them turned into an unusual rhythm. A bizarre dance that oddly bonded them in a chaotic way. Annabeth’s exasperation became somewhat of a game, and while she was still annoyed by Percy’s cheekiness, she couldn’t help but secretly look forward to his presence. Deep down, she enjoyed his antics — much like she enjoyed his stubborn, loyal nature. As summer rolled on, they found a new balance. Annabeth, recognizing Percy's penchant for humor, decided if you couldn’t beat them, join them. A clean slate was forged with a deal: For every dirty joke Percy told, Annabeth would put him through a new rigorous training exercise that would leave him questioning his life choices the next day. Little did they know, the twisted banter and spontaneous energy was the glue that slowly stitched them together, turning annoyance into something more profound. Thus, in the halls of Camp Half-Blood, the saga of Percy’s dirty jokes became legendary. It evolved from simple annoyance to a warm, chaotic love, creating a beautiful mishmash of laughter and rivalry that would echo through the embers of their adventures to come. And somewhere in the midst of it, Annabeth would learn that sometimes, laughter is stronger than frustration — no matter how many daggers you end up throwing. Update (2025-06-18): **Percy and Annabeth's Hilarious Misadventures: A Long Headcanon** Percy Jackson, the infamous son of Poseidon, had developed a very particular habit that often drove Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena, to the brink of insanity. It all started one sunny afternoon when the demigods had finally returned to Camp Half-Blood after a grueling quest. They were both looking forward to some well-deserved downtime. Meanwhile, Percy—always the jokester—decided that he needed to liven things up, especially around Annabeth, who could sometimes be too serious for her own good. It was innocent enough at first. He'd knock on her cabin door and casually walk in like he owned the place. "Hey, Wise Girl," he’d call out, “Why don’t we ever play hide and seek with mountains? Because good luck hiding when they always peak!” Annabeth would roll her eyes, a faint smile barely escaping her lips, while Piper McLean, who often lounged in Annabeth's cabin, could hardly contain her laughter. As days turned to weeks, and weeks to months, Percy’s dirty joke streak escalated. It became a full-blown routine. Every time Annabeth was isolated in her cabin, whether working on intricate blueprints for a new defense system or just trying to hit some personal records on her math problems, Percy would burst through the door like a whirlwind. "Knock, knock!" "Percy, I’m seriously—" "Who's there? Al..." "Don't you dare—" "Alpaca! Alpaca your bags; we're going to a party!" He’d finish with a flourish, and Piper would be in stitches, doubled over and gasping for air, while Annabeth's eye twitched. It got to the point where Annabeth came to dread those moments of peace. One day, as she was intensely focused on designs involving mechanical traps for the upcoming capture-the-flag event, Percy barged in once again. "What do you call a fish with no eyes?" "Percy—" she began, her patience wearing thin. “Fsh!” he shouted triumphantly. But he couldn’t finish his punchline because Annabeth was turning red—partly from annoyance, partly because she had just accidentally mistaken a note in her designs for a different trap that could potentially injure someone (probably Percy). Without missing a beat, she snapped, “PERCY, GET OUT!” But the inevitable climax of this comedy of errors became apparent during training one afternoon. Annabeth focused on honing her dagger skills, throwing them with precise accuracy at targets. Percy, wanting to brighten her day with another ill-timed joke, decided to sneak up behind her. “Hey, Wise Girl! What’s the difference between a well-dressed man on a unicycle and a poorly dressed man on a bicycle?” Before she could turn around, he shouted, “Attire!” And just like that, he met his fate. Without a moment's hesitation, Annabeth whirled, dagger in hand, aiming at him with furious precision. The blade whistled by his ear, missing him just barely but embedding itself into the tree behind him. The camp fell silent for a heartbeat before eruptions of laughter broke through the air. Even Chiron snorted with amusement from a distance. Percy, however, could only stand there wide-eyed, trying to comprehend how close he had just come to becoming a very different sort of campfire story. “Okay, okay, point taken!” he sputtered, his hands raised in mock surrender. But it didn’t end there. Annabeth stormed off, her temper piqued and mind racing with the absurdity of it all—her strategic plans disrupted, her peace of mind shattered, and now each thrust of her dagger embodied her frustration. “I CAN’T TAKE THIS ANYMORE!” she shouted, echoing through the camp, before collapsing onto a bench near the training area, her head in her hands. Piper, who had been watching the situation unfold, tried to stifle her laughter. “I mean, come on, Annabeth! You’ve got to admit—” “Shut up, Piper!” Annabeth exclaimed, sending both her best friend and her boyfriend into another fit of giggles. But really, under all the humor and chaotic pranks there was an undeniable connection between Percy and Annabeth. While the jokes might make her want to commit murder at times, it also reminded her how much she cared for him and how he always made life a little more interesting—if only a bit infuriating. Eventually, the dust settled. Annabeth took a deep breath, combing back her hair with resolve. She knew it wouldn’t be the last time Percy would pop in with an outlandish joke, but perhaps there was a tiny part of her that could learn to appreciate them—maybe just a little bit—especially if Piper was by her side to fuel the laughter. The next day, while working on the latest battle plans, she chuckled quietly to herself, unsure how long it would be before Percy would barge in again. After all, chaos was just a part of her life now, and perhaps it was the chaos they created together that made her heart dance.