Rick Riordan
Rick Riordan
Richard Russell "Rick" Riordan, Jr. is an American author known for writing the Percy Jackson & the Olympians series, which is about a twelve-year-old who discovers he is a son of Poseidon. His books have been translated into 37 languages and sold more than 30 million copies in the US. Twentieth Century Fox has adapted the first two books of his Percy Jackson series as part of a series of films. His books have spawned related media, such as graphic novels...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionYoung Adult Author
Date of Birth5 June 1964
CountryUnited States of America
Annabeth pressed her lips to Percy’s ear. “I love you.” She wasn’t sure he could hear her—but if they died, she wanted those to be her last words.
Annabeth didn’t want to sleep, but her body betrayed her. Her eyelids turned to lead. “Percy, wake me for second watch. Don’t be a hero.” He gave her that smirk she’d come to love. “Who, me?” He kissed her, his lips parched and feverishly warm. “Sleep.
The giant raised his fist, and a voice cut through the dream. "Leo!" Jason was shaking his shoulder. "Hey, man, why are you hugging Nike?" Leo's eyes fluttered open. His arms were wrapped around the human-sized statue in Athena's hand. He must have been thrashing in his sleep. He clung to the victory goddess like he used to cling to his pillow when he had nightmares as a kid. (Man, that had been so embarrassing in the foster homes.) He disentangled himself and sat up, rubbing his face. "Nothing," he muttered. "we were just cuddling. Um, what's going on?
No!" Leo yelled. "Uhhh," Nico groaned from the floor. "Piper!" Jason cried. "Monkey!" Frank yelled. "Not monkeys," Hazel grumbled. "I think those are dwarfs." "Stealing my stuff!" Leo yelled, and ran for the stairs.
Love is no game! It is no flowery softness! It is hard work- It demands everything from you- especially the truth. Only then does it yield results.
I figure the world is basically a machine. I don't know who made it, if it was the Fates, or the gods, or the capital-G god or whatever. But it chugs along the way it's supposed to most of the time. Sure, little pieces break off and stuff goes haywire once in a while, but mostly... things happen for a reason.
[Percy] kept hoping things would get better for Annabeth and him, but their lives just got more dangerous, as if the Three Fates were up there spinning their futures with barbed wire instead of thread just to see how much two demigods could tolerate.
Nico, I've seen a lot of brave things. But what you just did? That was maybe the bravest.
Jason's fingers itched to draw his sword. He'd met plenty of scary demigods, but he was starting to realize that Nico di Angelo--as pale and gaunt as he looked--might be more than he could handle.
The first time Calypso came to check on [Leo], it was to complain about the noise. “Smoke and fire,” she said. “Clanging on metal all day long. You’re scaring away the birds!” “Oh, no, not the birds!
You’re that lady,” Leo said. “The one who was named after Caribbean music.” Her eyes glinted murderously. “Caribbean music.” “Yeah. Reggae?” Leo shook his head. “Merengue? Hold on, I’ll get it.” He snapped his fingers. “Calypso!
Akmon squealed with delight. “I knew you were as smart as Hercules! I will call you Black Bottom, the Sequel!
Lots of death, huh? Personally, I'm trying to avoid lots of death, but you guys have fun!
[Jason] faltered when he looked at Leo, who was mimicking taking notes with an air pencil. “Go on, Professor Grace!” he said, wide-eyed. “I wanna get an A on the test.