Demigod Headcannons, Ships, Texting, etc!✔️

Percabeth happily dies

Annabeth Chase, age 129, lay silently in her bed in the hospital. She was only hospitalized because of her age, her wrinkled skin, and the joints in her legs refusing to obey.

She didn't look like the Annabeth she used to be. Her eyes, once a light, stormy gray, had long since turned a dull color. Her honey-blond hair had yellowed and grayed until they just looked like a mass of black, white, and yellow. Her tan skin had bleached, turning a sickly pale color, old and wrinkled.

She couldn't bear the fact that her husband of 109 years, with whom she had gone through nearly everything with, was lying in the next room – but she couldn't communicate with him.

Her children, Luke Charles Jackson, and Silena Bianca Jackson, plus their families, had just left her room. They were both 101 years old.

Annabeth couldn't believe that she'd lived long enough to see her great-great grandchildren, and was currently expecting a great-great-great grandchild.

She pressed the buzzer on the stand next to her bed, to alert the nurses. She could feel her life slipping away slowly, and she swore she could even see Thanatos himself in the shadowy corner of the hospital room.

A nurse immediately rushed to her bed.

"Dear, is everything alright? Are you hungry? Thirsty?" the woman asked frantically, checking all of the machines that Annabeth was hooked up to and looking her up and down.

"Alright," Annabeth croaked.

"Then why'd you press the button?" The nurse asked.

"Husband..." she mumbled.

"Yes, dear, I'm sorry, I'm sure he'll visit you," she soothed Annabeth. Annabeth shook her head, but someone rang the buzzer in the next room before she could say anything.

"Sorry, honey, but I've got to go get that," the woman said, turning away.

Annabeth fell into a, for once, dreamless sleep.

Percy Jackson, age 129, was not a happy man.

For one, he was hooked up to various machines, and lying in a hospital bed, just because of his age. He felt fully capable of running around.

Also, his wife, Annabeth Chase, was in the next room – unreachable from where Percy lay. He heard talking in Annabeth's room and rang the buzzer on his nightstand.

A nurse ran into his room.

"Dear, is everything alright? Are you hungry? Thirsty?" the nurse asked, checking his machines, tubes, and body.

Percy shook his head.

The woman sighed. "Then what is it?" she asked somewhat impatiently.

"Wife..." Percy muttered.

"Yes, dear, I'm sorry, I'm sure she'll visit you," the nurse attempted to calm Percy.

To put it at the least, it didn't work.

"Pen... paper... envelope..." Percy croaked, miming writing something down. Thankfully, the nurse understood. Percy could practically feel his soul struggling to stay in the mortal world.

The woman came back after a moment, holding a piece of paper, a ballpoint pen, and a clean, white envelope.

Percy set pen against paper and began to write.

Annabeth was still not happy. She was about to ring the bell again when the nurse came into her room, holding an envelope. She took one look at her name written – more like scrawled – in messy handwriting, and her face immediately lit up.