#small notebook with useful topics and including information | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

applepiiex · 13 days ago

Text

OFFICE HOURS ! ! ! ✎ ⋆⑅˚₊

Nanami Kento x FTM Reader

Nanami Kento does not believe in distractions. Not in lecture halls, not in recitations, and certainly not in the quiet, infuriatingly persistent presence of a grad student who isn’t even assigned to his section. But then you start showing up to his TA hours with smart questions, sharper eyes, somehow the walls around his heart start shifting. Slowly. Quietly. Irreversibly. A/N: Prequel to Zoom Class

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ──────

The library was a sanctuary for Nanami, the one place where silence wasn’t just preferred—it was sacred. But today, the usual peace felt fractured. The hum of whispered conversations, the rustle of pages, and the occasional clatter of a laptop keyboard grated on his nerves. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and glanced at his watch: twenty-three minutes before his office hours would be over. No one had come in yet. Good. That meant he could grade in peace.

Then the door creaked open, drawing his attention.

You stepped inside, shoulders tense beneath your backpack, a stack of nursing textbooks precariously balanced in your arms. You glanced around, locking eyes with him, and took a hesitant step forward.

“I’m not technically in your section,” you began, voice steady but with an undercurrent of uncertainty, “but the TA for mine bailed again. Do you mind if I stay and ask a few questions?”

Nanami’s initial response was a frown, mild irritation brewing. He wasn’t here for distractions. But something about the way you carried yourself — the blend of exhaustion and determination, the way your eyes searched his, almost pleading — made him pause. He nodded once, sharp and decisive. “As long as you have something worth discussing.”

You breathed out a small sigh of relief and settled in across from him. “I’m working on a paper about economic barriers in long-term care for trans patients,” you said, pulling out a battered draft with notes scribbled in the margins. “It’s part of my health systems analysis class.”

Nanami’s pen hovered over his papers, then slowly set down. He leaned forward, genuinely interested. “That’s… not a common topic.”

“Yeah,” you admitted, voice quieter now. “Most people don’t want to talk about it. Or they don’t understand.”

“It’s about economic barriers in healthcare access for trans patients. I’m stuck on finding good sources for this section.”

Nanami lifted an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt. He was used to students fumbling with topics like supply chains or fiscal policy—not something so... personal.

You set your notebook down, showing him the messy outline. “I know it’s a bit niche. Most people don’t want to deal with it.”

For a long moment, Nanami just studied you, his eyes sharp and unreadable.

“Well,” he said finally, voice flat but not unkind, “You’ve picked a topic that actually matters. That’s a start.”

“Very well,” he said. “Show me your outline.”

You set your notebook on the desk, flipping it open to pages filled with scrawled notes, articles bookmarked, and your own careful observations. Nanami’s eyes scanned the page, his brow furrowing slightly in thought.

“You’ve done thorough research,” he remarked. “But your analysis could benefit from a deeper dive into provider-side economic incentives. How might hospitals’ reimbursement policies discourage inclusive care?”

You leaned in, intrigued. “That’s a good point. I hadn’t thought much about the provider’s perspective in terms of economic motivation.”

Nanami tapped a pen thoughtfully. “And if you include that, you’ll have a stronger argument for policy reform that incentivizes equitable care.”

As you discussed sources, your paper, and ideas for improvement, the initial awkwardness between you slowly melted into a shared passion for the topic.

At one point, Nanami looked up sharply and asked, “May I ask—how have your personal experiences informed your academic interests?”

You hesitated, then decided to be open. “Being trans, I’ve faced a lot of obstacles—finding providers who understand me, navigating insurance that doesn’t cover everything. It’s frustrating. I want to change that, not just for me but for others.”

Nanami regarded you quietly for a moment. “That kind of drive is rare. It will serve you well.”

Your chest swelled with a mix of pride and nervousness. “Thank you,” you said softly.

The clock on the wall ticked steadily as the conversation drifted naturally from academic to personal—just slightly, enough to make your heart beat faster.

When the hour was almost up, Nanami closed your notebook gently.

“I think we’ll continue this next week,” he said, his tone unreadable. “There’s more to explore, and you have the potential to produce something meaningful.”

You smiled, feeling warmth spread through you. “Thanks, Professor Nanami. I’ll see you next week.”

As you gathered your things and headed for the door, you caught a brief glance—something almost like approval—in his eyes.

You stepped out, the fading sun casting long shadows, but your mind was already racing ahead. This paper wasn’t just an assignment anymore. It was the beginning of something important—and maybe, just maybe, the beginning of a connection you hadn’t expected.

The building was nearly silent.

It always was during finals week—no more overheard debates in the hallway, no more undergrads groaning over midterms or darting between classes. Just the hush of endings, the quiet pulse of everyone counting down to freedom.

You didn’t plan to come. You’d told yourself you were done—that submitting your final essay meant closing this chapter for good.

But your feet brought you here anyway.

Nanami’s door was cracked open slightly, warm lamplight spilling onto the tile. He sat behind his desk, sleeves rolled to his elbows, eyes scanning a paper with his usual sharp focus. Even now, he looked like he was holding the whole world together by sheer will. You knocked gently.

His head lifted. A flicker of surprise crossed his face before he smoothed it out.

“You’re not on my list today,” he said.

“No,” you replied, stepping into the doorway. “I’m not.”

There was a long pause—one of those silences that felt like standing at the edge of something.

“I just… I wanted to say thank you,” you said, voice quieter than you intended. “For the way you take me seriously. Even when you didn’t have to.”

Nanami set down his pen slowly.

“I take you seriously because you deserved it,” he said. “You worked harder than most of the students I’ve had this semester.”

Your throat tightened, the weight of everything unsaid pressing against your ribs. How scared you’d been, walking into his office that first day. How hard it had been to speak confidently about healthcare policy, about trans representation, about the world you hoped to shape with a voice no one had always listened to.

But he had.

He always had.

It was raining again.

Not the kind of cinematic downpour that made people run for cover, but the slow, persistent drizzle that seeped into everything. The windows of the TA office fogged slightly at the corners, and Nanami glanced up briefly to check the time.

4:42 p.m. You were late.

Not that he cared. Not that he was waiting. And yet, when the door creaked open and you slipped in—hood half-soaked, cheeks flushed from the cold—Nanami felt something loosen in his chest.

“Sorry,” you said, dropping your bag with a sigh. “Campus WiFi crashed and I couldn’t download the article for today.”

You shook out your hoodie like a half-drowned cat and gave a sheepish smile.

“I brought a hard copy, though,” you added, holding up the marked-up paper. “Hope that’s okay.”

Nanami blinked. “That’s… more than okay.”

You always did that. Put effort into things others brushed off. Highlighted your readings in multiple colors, left margin notes with questions that made Nanami stop mid-sentence. You were never performative about it, but your passion burned quietly through everything you touched.

He cleared his throat and gestured to the chair. “Let’s begin.”

The conversation was fluid as always—easy, even when it challenged him. You had strong opinions, and you weren’t afraid to speak them. But more than that, you listened. You asked things. You questioned the structures without dismissing them outright.

“…And I just think that trans patients need more than policy,” you were saying now, fingers tapping lightly against your knee. “They need providers who see them as full people. You can write all the coverage guarantees you want, but if no one will treat you without bias, what’s the point?”

He should have responded—should have prompted a counter-argument, or nudged the conversation back toward the week’s readings.

But he didn’t. He just… watched you. The way your brow furrowed. The way your voice caught slightly when you said full people, like you knew what it meant to not be seen that way.

And in that moment—he knew. He was already falling.

It was subtle, like the rain outside. Slow and steady. So quiet he hadn’t noticed it soaking through until he was drenched.

It wasn’t just your intelligence. It wasn’t just your warmth. It was the way you made the world sharper, more urgent. How you reminded him that ideas meant something, that behind every theory was a life, a body, a history worth protecting.

He didn’t say anything, not then. But you must’ve noticed the shift in his gaze, the way he looked at you with something new behind his eyes.

You tilted your head. “Did I lose you?”

“No,” he said quietly. “You just… make very good points.”

You gave a small laugh. “Don’t sound too surprised.”

And Nanami, usually so reserved, let himself smile. Just a little. “I’m not,” he said. “Not anymore.”

When you left that day, your umbrella flipping inside out in the wind, he watched you from the window longer than he meant to.

It would take him weeks to admit it to himself fully, longer still to allow anything to come of it.

But it had started. And some part of him knew this wasn’t going away.

Nanami wasn’t one to indulge in distractions. His days were tightly structured—early mornings, dissertation work, teaching prep, office hours, and the occasional faculty seminar if Gojo hadn’t managed to derail them. He never missed deadlines. He never chased anything uncertain.

Which was why, as he sat in the dimly lit back corner of the graduate student lounge, staring at the class roster spreadsheet on his laptop, he told himself this wasn’t indulgent. It was… information gathering.

He scrolled slowly until he found your name: Y/L/N, Y/N. Final year, Master of Public Health. Concentration: Health Policy and Equity. Pronouns noted, a small "he/him" nestled in the corner of your profile. There was something about seeing it formally listed there, typed with such certainty, that made something in Nanami settle. You had mentioned being a trans man before—but seeing it acknowledged in university systems? It mattered.

Your TA was listed just below: Kiyomi Takano. Nanami recognized the name. She was sharp. Ran her recitations with clarity and rigor. Not prone to embellishment or idle chatter. Still, Nanami closed his laptop and rose, smoothing his sleeves as if he wasn’t about to do something deeply out of character.

He found Takano in the TA lounge, a half-empty instant ramen bowl perched beside her notes. She looked up at him with a raised brow.

“Kento. Didn’t expect to see you here after four,” she said, amused. “Did Gojo finally trick you into a group hang?”

“No,” Nanami replied flatly. “I had a question. About a student in your recitation.”

Her brows lifted further, curiosity sharpening. “Sure. What kind of question?”

“I… just wanted to know how Y/N Y/L/N has been doing this term.”

Kiyomi blinked. “Y/N?” He kept his face neutral. "Yes."

There was a beat. Then she tilted her head and gave him a look so knowing it made him want to backtrack immediately.

But she didn’t say anything about it. Just hummed thoughtfully. “He’s smart,” she said after a moment. “Good instincts. Passionate. I can tell he thinks deeply about things—not just what’s required on the syllabus, but the bigger picture. He’s always connecting the readings back to care systems and lived experience.”

Nanami nodded once, something tight in his chest loosening. That tracked.

“He’s a bit shy when he speaks up,” she added, glancing at him. “But when he does, the room listens. He talks about healthcare like it matters to him personally. Not in a dramatic way. Just… grounded. Honest.”

Nanami felt his throat tighten slightly. “Thank you,” he said, perhaps too quickly.

Kiyomi arched a brow. “He’s not in your section, is he?”

“No,” Nanami admitted. “He came to my office hours once. I think it was the week you were out.”

“Ah,” she said, clearly not believing that was the whole story. Then, as if deciding to offer a bone, “He mentioned you in passing once. Said your lectures were hard to follow at first, but he liked that you didn’t talk down to students.”

That startled something like a smile from Nanami. Kiyomi narrowed her eyes at him, then smiled a little herself. “If you’re thinking of asking him to join your research or something—he’d probably say yes. But maybe don’t make it weird.”

“I don’t intend to,” Nanami said, already feeling foolish for coming. As he turned to go, she called out lightly, “He’s a good one, Kento. If this isn’t about research, you could do worse.”

Nanami didn’t turn around. Just raised a hand in acknowledgement and kept walking. But later, alone in his apartment, he’d remember her words. And think—no, I couldn’t do better. He hadn’t meant to care.

But somewhere between your careful notes and quiet laughter, the way you always spoke with conviction, and the softness in your eyes when you talked about care—real care—he’d stopped just being curious.

And started falling.

The university building was hushed in the way only end-of-semester nights could be—buzzing fluorescents overhead, the soft shuffle of someone printing last-minute papers in the distance, and that thick quiet of everyone being too tired to pretend anymore.

You sat hunched on one side of the small table, fingers nervously fidgeting against your pencil. Your thesis draft was spread between you and Nanami, pages annotated with neat, controlled handwriting in black ink.

Across from you, Nanami adjusted his glasses, eyes scanning one of your longer paragraphs. His brow furrowed—focused, not displeased—and your heart picked up in your chest.

You didn’t even know why you were nervous.

Actually, no—you did.

You liked him.

God, you liked him.

And he’d agreed to read your thesis.

“It’s strong,” he said after a moment, setting his pen down with a quiet click. “You have a clear voice. The way you connect healthcare policy to trans-specific outcomes without making it about trauma alone… it’s necessary work. And you articulate it with restraint. That’s rare.”

You blinked, throat tightening. “You really think so?”

Nanami looked up, and there was something softer in his gaze now. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

A breath escaped your lungs you hadn’t realized you were holding. Nanami leaned back slightly, one hand resting on the table’s edge. “What brought you to this topic? If you don’t mind sharing.”

You hesitated, then shrugged, eyes fixed on the annotations. “I think… when you grow up constantly having to advocate for yourself in medical spaces, you start to notice all the cracks in the system. And the older I got, the more I realized not everyone wants to see those cracks.”

Nanami’s expression didn’t change, but his attention was absolute. You felt it settle over you like something grounding.

“I figured if I could get through school,” you continued, “maybe I could help patch some of them. Make it less exhausting for the next trans kid sitting in a cold clinic trying to explain why his name doesn’t match the form.” Silence for a beat.

Then, “You shouldn’t have had to explain at all.”

You looked up. Nanami’s voice was low, steady. “Care shouldn’t come with conditions.”

Your chest ached a little. In the quiet of that moment, you remembered something Kiyomi once said—that Nanami’s stoicism wasn’t distance, it was deliberateness. He weighed everything before he spoke. And when he finally did, he meant it.

“What about you?” you asked gently. Nanami had just finished scribbling a small note in the margin of your thesis draft when you tilted your head, watching him.

“Why economics?” you asked. “You don’t… seem like someone who’d be obsessed with market trends.”

There was the faintest twitch of his lips. Not quite a smile, but close. “I’m not,” he admitted. “At least, not the way most people in the department are.”

You leaned forward a bit, interested. “So why the PhD?”

Nanami sat back, folding his arms loosely. His voice was low and even. “I wanted to understand how systems shape people’s lives—how policies look clean on paper but destroy people in practice. Economic policy affects everything: wages, healthcare access, housing, even the way disaster relief is distributed. I figured… if I could make sense of the architecture, I could learn where to break it. Or rebuild it.”

Your eyebrows lifted slightly. “That’s… not the answer I was expecting.”

“What were you expecting?”

You shrugged. “Something about liking numbers.”

Nanami scoffed under his breath, glancing down at your paper again. “Numbers are fine. But people twist them too easily.”

You hesitated, then asked, “Do you like teaching?”There was a pause.

“It’s part of the funding package,” he said, tone deliberately neutral. “I’m required to TA one policy class per year.”

“But… you’re good at it.”

“That doesn’t mean I like it.”

You gave him a look. “…But,” he added, slower this time, “I don’t mind it when the students actually care.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Do I count?” His gaze met yours.

“You showed up to someone else’s TA session to ask real questions. You stayed late. You rewrote your thesis section after I gave you hell about it.” He paused, then added, “You’re not just doing this to check a box.”

You looked down, a little bashful, the praise hitting more deeply than you expected.

“I guess we both care about fixing broken systems,” you murmured.

Nanami was quiet for a moment. Then, softly, “I think that’s what made me notice you.”

You blinked. He realized what he’d said, eyes flicking to yours again measured, but not withdrawing. You held his gaze. “Yeah. Me too.”

He paused again, then nodded toward your thesis draft. “There are a few grammatical things I marked, but… if you want, I’d be happy to read the final version before submission.”

Your pulse skipped. “You’d do that?”

He nodded. “Of course.”

There was something in the way he said it, simple and sincere. Not as a favor. But because he wanted to. Because he cared.

You hesitated for a second, then, “Nanami?”

He looked up.

“After the semester’s over… do you wanna get a coffee? Like…not for thesis review. Just. You know.”

Something flickered in his eyes, and then, “I’d like that,” he said quietly. “Very much.”

128 notes · View notes

liminalgrave28 · 5 months ago

Text

Cannon Character Info

Okay okay I know I’m posting back to back but I couldn’t help but want to share this publicly I wrote these not too long ago and I was like I CANT WAIT ANY LONGER I need the public to be insane about them too PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE Also enjoy the extra art some of it is the same but I added some extra!

︶︶Jewelus

Jewelus has vampire like tendencies: but they work in a sense of Jewelus needing to feed on small jewels or decorated accessories to feed his need to eat, although he can eat normal food he prefers jewels they taste much sweeter and satisfying to him over actual food

Very close friends with Posey, they usually hang out together and share any drama they’ve heard while they’ve been busy or working.

Has a key that does unlock his head but if it were to be opened you’d find nothing because it is empty, if asked about it Jewelus would only reply “Secrets simply must stay hidden my dear..”

Jewelus has a small crush on a member of the cast but refuses to tell anyone even his closest friend posey

Out of everyone he’s the most honest about others cooking which leads to peeps constantly asking him to try his new marshmallow sweets recipes.

Has a like for learning facts about others which he writes them all down in a personal diary like notebook to remember this information he has on everyone

Out of everyone Jewelus is said to be the most strict which can be easily shown when he’s advised plans for daily chores or activities with the pods

Jewelus actual job includes being a tailor for others He's the one who designed everyone’s outfits for special occasions or even events he is even known to help young pods with their outfits as well.

Jewelus has a knack for showing others personality in their clothes he’s always been able to look and get to know others by small conversations and been able to absolutely let their clothes do the talking when designing them

Jewelus and buttercup can often be seen sharing early morning Tea together they always schedule them super early so that they can enjoy the sunrise together

︶︶Rosie Posey

Posey is known to be a drag queen within the casting of characters and is quite popular in both the queer and female communities

Posey’s closet friend is both Jewelus and Buttercup they've known each other for since the beginning of their existence and were there to support posey

Posey is known for his confidence in self imagery and being supportive of his friends!

Posey uses both she/her and he/him pronouns but the most common are she/her this is cause it’s the most preferred for posey

Although Posey has joined the top business in being a drag queen, she was also once a weather reporter! She’d share all the topics of how the seasons could possibly affect the weather.

Posey is now a very well known model this helped her truly gain fans and attention rather quickly it grew even more when posey started releasing merchandise.

This rose shares a title with their younger sibling who’s a drag king! His name is Bloom, he's a yellow rose they’re almost twins if it weren’t for Posey being red instead!

Posey is not only just a model but she also has a side gig in singing. Sometimes she’ll come to certain small business places to share her voice on stage!

In her free time Posey will spend it indulging herself in self care and even a nice series to play on tv she’ll surprisingly watch a lot of calming gardening shows as much as she loves to share drama even she needs a break from it.

This rose also has a small knack for going out on an early morning jog. Sometimes she'll invite Buttercup to join her; she enjoys listening to Buttercup while they jog. He's the best conversation keeper!

If posey were asked about any personal hobbies she takes part in she may say “singing” but her real small hobby is making small jewelry gifts for her friends in fact a lot of her jewelry was made by her not all of it though since big business love to send her free jewelry to advertise for their business!

If it weren’t for posey Jewelus' tailoring business wouldn’t have taken off the way it did. She's always wearing his work and says “she couldn’t find a better tailor and best friend.” she was happy to celebrate his take off and couldn’t be more proud of Jewelus

︶︶Cumulus Forecast

Cumulus is the weather reporter for the studio; he's known to be very outgoing when the camera is placed on him and isn’t much of a fan of sharing the spotlight!

Posey and cumulus were once work colleagues cumulus running weather and posey sharing information on the season’s and how they may affect the upcoming weather

Cumulus wasn’t always outgoing; he used to be very low spoken and a lot less confident in himself and his natural talent!

It’s unsaid as to what caused the falling out between cumulus and posey but the most that was known is that it led to A cut live videoing of the weather station.

Cumulus has the ability to change his head responding to his emotions. Sometimes it isn’t as obvious especially if he’s holding back the most that may change is his face turning from white to a darker shade of gray.

If asked about family cumulus might not say much he’ll just say he’s got a lot of cousins,brothers, and sisters “it’s so much family they take up the sky!” He’d say!

Cumulus has a special place in his heart for his cousin starry. As annoying as he can find starry sometimes, he’s always looking out for him and able to give advice to his cousin for his tv show. working within the same studio as him brings a lot of life to it.

His attitude is said to have a very thundering boom to it the only person who's seen him so upset is posey!

Cumulus is known to be the baby of his family. His brother Flare is much older than him. They don’t speak to each other much but when they do it somehow ends up being competitive.

Cumulus’s closet friend is the sports lover herself T.T they’re always chatting while T.T is busy playing a sport of any kind she’s a wonderful multitasker!

︶︶T.T/Top.Tier

T.T is an outstanding sports loving prize winning ribbon! She absolutely loves working hard within the sports community to prove to others you can master anything with hard work!

T.T is known to be seen as coach at just about any sport whenever she’s seen working

T.T is known to be Flare's girlfriend. She's absolutely head over heels for him and would run around Saturn twice for him!

T.T is the type to be very strict about bad sportsmanship she wants everyone to have fun and enjoy the game so she will absolutely stand her ground if she sees anyone being rowdy or even destructive during a sports game

If T.T was put into a situation of conflict between teams she'd definitely have both the conflicting members sit out for the time being to cool off and then return to each other and talk it out with her guidance and supervision after hearing both sides' problems.

T.T is trained to handle some medical injuries but if they’re too serious the local doctor (Caplet) will quickly run in to take over if things are beyond what T.T can do.

T.T is a very strong Woman she’s often seen carrying around her rather tall boyfriend flare in excitement! She’s the perfect one to go to for a quick fix on your back pain!

If a player were to be injured and was begging to go back out T.T would absolutely not allow it and would have them sent to caplet immediately she’d never forgive herself if a player got hurt with her knowing the situation beforehand.

T.T’s been in the sports game for a while so she can sniff out when someone’s not telling the truth about their check up slips especially if the handwriting is forged and they obviously aren’t doing their greatest keeping in mind that their parents told her beforehand.

Interactions with T.T are always super positive and very encouraging. She can be very loud, supportive, even helpful. She's happy to be there for a friend in need for example cumulus who she’ll happily hear all the work place drama from!

T.T is a strict healthcare person; she's always on cumulus and flare about the caffeine they take in! She also makes sure they drink water. She's always got a bottle or 2 on her. She loves to share health advice when asked and even makes sure her friends are in tip top shape for the day even if they don’t do sports!

If T.T is up and early,flare is stuck in bed. Sometimes she’ll let it slide and join him and call it a lazy day! But usually she’ll pick him up and carry him from the bed ending in the bed frame being dragged too.

T.T isn’t a big showbiz person; she's always loved the freedom to get to love and enjoy what she does, especially being her own coach! She can work with the team if need be but usually T.T is seen as a good leader in certain situations!

16 notes · View notes

finchwell · 27 days ago

Text

The information community I am most active in, though I belong to many, would be the online journalling community.

I made my debut in the community in December of 2013. At the time, the blogging and reblogging Tumblr community was hot, and I was highly influenced to start journalling by a video posted by the official Hobonichi Techo YouTube channel, which was then cross-posted onto their Tumblr. Be forewarned, the song is particularly addictive.

I documented and posted my first entry on my Tumblr and Instagram accounts.

This image is well over a decade old and was taken on my iPhone 5. That along with the multiple filters used at the time had led to significant blurriness in the image, but I’m so glad that I still have it.

For whatever reason, my Tumblr account gained a lot of traction from my initial posts and I found a small community of like-minded bloggers and journalers. Not all of them used the Hobonichi Techo branded products, and in fact, most of the Japanese bloggers I found preferred to use Filofax at the time.

But neither of these communities would likely come to mind of the average person when I mention journalling as a hobby. The Bullet Journal, however, just might. Launched in August of 2013, the bullet journal method was coined by Ryder Caroll. The concept focuses on using a series of symbols and a daily log to keep track of your ideas, hobbies, to-dos, and life events. In a matter of just a few years, the concept took off and Carroll released a book, an official Bullet Journal notebook, and has been credited with inspiring multiple self-improvement coaches like Jake Knapp and John Zeratsky, and Ali Abdaal.

For a while, the Bullet Journaling online community was quite vigilant in its gatekeeping practices. Posts on Tumblr and Instagram that utilized the Bullet Journal hashtag were criticized for not following the method exactly as Carroll had outlined.

In more recent years, the online community has embraced more creative styles of memory keeping and life planning. Influential creators include Meghan Rhiannon, who has recently combined a ring system memory-keeping book and a Hobonichi Techo cover, and Jashii Corrin, who has recently been using her Bullet Journal-styled system to create a video game or tabletop RPG-inspired system to tackle her life admin tasks.

My own system of journalling combines art, memory keeping, and general task deadline management. I tend to document it photographically, but I have put in significant effort over the last year to document it visually and musically on my own YouTube channel. The audio formatting has certainly been the biggest hurdle, and I find myself venturing into the audio/visual information community regularly to ask for help. I’m still learning, but I enjoy being able to blog verbally about a topic that I am also journalling and scrapbooking about.

As time goes on, I am highly interested in how the journalling community will grow. I hope that we will continue to learn from each other’s methods and embrace more creativity.

#my work #grad school #grad blog #hobonichi #journalling

3 notes · View notes

compassdoon · 14 days ago

Text

How to Prepare for RIMC and Sainik School Entrance Exams

If you want to join the Indian Armed Forces in the future, passing the entrance exam for RIMC or Sainik School is a great first step. These schools give you the best education, discipline, and training to become a future defence officer. But before getting into these schools, you have to clear a tough entrance exam.

Don’t worry! With the right steps, practice, and guidance, you can prepare well and crack the exam. Let’s understand how to get ready for the RIMC and Sainik School entrance exams in a simple way.

Understand the Exam

Before you begin studying, it is important to know what the exam is all about.

The RIMC entrance exam is for students in Class 7 or 8 who want to get into the Rashtriya Indian Military College. The exam has three parts – English, Mathematics, and General Knowledge. If you pass the written exam, you will have to go through an interview and a medical test.

The Sainik School entrance exam is also called AISSEE (All India Sainik Schools Entrance Exam). It is for boys and girls in Classes 6 and 9. The subjects include Maths, English, General Knowledge, and Language.

Make a Study Plan

To do well in the exam, you need a good study plan. Divide your day into small sessions for each subject. Make sure you study every day and revise often.

Here’s a simple example of a daily study plan:

1 hour for Maths practice

45 minutes for English reading and grammar

30 minutes for General Knowledge

15 minutes for vocabulary or quiz practice

Make small goals for each week and try to complete them. Don’t forget to take breaks, play outside, and sleep well too.

Focus on Important Topics

You don’t need to study everything at once. Start with important and basic topics first.

In Maths, practice simple calculations, word problems, geometry, and number systems. Try to solve sums without a calculator to improve your speed.

In English, learn grammar rules, reading comprehension, and essay writing. Read English storybooks or newspapers to improve your vocabulary and sentence structure.

In General Knowledge, read about India’s history, geography, sports, important personalities, and current events. Use fun quizzes and games to test yourself.

Solve Past Year Papers

One of the best ways to prepare is by solving previous year question papers. This helps you understand the types of questions asked, manage your time, and find out where you need to improve.

You can also practice with mock tests. Set a timer and take the test like a real exam. After finishing, check your answers and try to learn from your mistakes.

Use the Right Books and Material

Choose study books that are made for RIMC and Sainik School entrance exams. Some useful books include:

NCERT textbooks for Classes 6 to 8

Grammar books like Wren and Martin

General Knowledge books for students

Sample paper books from Arihant or MTG

Don’t use too many books at once. Pick a few good ones and revise them properly.

Read and Stay Informed

For the General Knowledge part, stay updated. Read the newspaper every day or watch student-friendly news videos online. Learn about your state, country, and important global events.

Keep a notebook and write down new facts or news in short points. This will help you revise quickly later.

Get Ready for the Interview

After clearing the written exam, you may have to face a personal interview. The interview checks your confidence, speaking skills, and general awareness.

Practice speaking in front of a mirror or with a friend. Answer questions like:

Why do you want to join RIMC or Sainik School?

Who is your role model?

Tell me about your family or school.

What do you want to become in the future?

Speak clearly, be honest, and stay calm. Dress neatly and be respectful to the interviewers.

Stay Healthy and Fit

You must also pass a medical test. So, it’s important to stay healthy and active.

Eat healthy food like fruits, vegetables, and home-cooked meals. Avoid junk food and drink enough water. Play outdoor games like football, running, or skipping to stay fit.

Sleep at least 7 to 8 hours every night. A healthy body will help your brain work better too.

Ask for Help When Needed

If you find any topic difficult, don’t hesitate to ask for help. Talk to your parents, teachers, or friends. You can also join a coaching class where expert teachers can guide you better.

Sometimes, studying alone can feel confusing. A coaching center gives you proper notes, tests, and tricks to learn faster.

Where to Get the Best Coaching?

If you are looking for expert help to prepare for RIMC, Sainik School, or RMS entrance exams, then Compass Doon is the right place. It is known as the best coaching institute in Dehradun for these exams. They have skilled teachers, regular practice tests, and a learning environment that helps every student do their best.

Many students from Compass Doon have cleared the exams and joined top military schools. With their support, you can achieve your dream too.

Conclusion

Preparing for the RIMC and Sainik School entrance exams takes time, effort, and the right direction. Start with a good study plan, focus on important subjects, solve past papers, and stay confident. Most importantly, never give up.

With the right help from Compass Doon, your journey to joining a top military school can be smooth and successful. Keep working hard, stay positive, and you will reach your goal.

#RIMC #Sainik School #RMS

0 notes

wynnsoftsolutioncom · 4 months ago

Text

10 tips for choosing a website

In the digital age where everything is easily accessible via the internet. Having your own website has become essential for businesses of all sizes. wynnsoftsolution.comWhether it’s a small, medium or large business, because a website is like a storefront in the online world. that is open for customers to visit 24 hours a day

Nowadays, there are new technologies coming in such as mobile phones. notebook computer wireless internet until including the website This must be done to get the most visitors to the website. Today we have brought you 10 tips for choosing to make a website. Let’s tell each other

1. Selecting website content Because choosing website content is an important part of starting a website. both the structure and popularity of the website For beginners I’m not sure which topic to choose. Should start from Surveying yourself to see what you like or are most interested in or what knowledge you have the most expertise in.

2. Structure of the website The aim of the website structure is to make visitors You can search for information on the website systematically. First of all, it must be considered. Possibility of types of visitors Because each type of visitor It will search for different information. Therefore, what should be done is grouping. of information by including various subtopics Keep it in the main topic which will have the aim The number of key points is minimal. In addition, organizing files and directories. It will help maintain and check. It’s easier to make website errors, such as organizing image files in the same place or organizing websites that are topical. in the same directory, etc.

3. The website can be viewed in many browsers. making a website It should be made so that it can be viewed from every version of various software, whether it be Netscape Communicator, Internet Explorer, or others. Making this available to everyone. It is considered to be an expansion of the visitor base.

4. Website loading speed The homepage of the website should not be slow to load. Factors that will affect the speed include the size of the images used. Number of images used and the quantity of characters is on that page Incidentally, the speed of loading a website may depend on the server that the website is on. How high is the ability? The size of the images used should be no more than 20–30K per image. The image should be a GIF or JPEG if the image size is too large. May be cut into smaller sizes and used a table to help organize the pictures.

5. Ease of searching for information The main factor depends on the structure of the website from the beginning. Structure and grouping of data There are also other factors such as having a Navigator bar or navigation bar on every page of the website. And if Search and Sitemap can be provided, it will be something that will help. Make it easier to find information

6. Font, background, and color. For the format that is commonly used, black letters on a white background. If desired, specify the type of font that is universal. For example, in the case of English, Arial or Times News Roman may be used, etc. As for the Thai language, MS Sans Serif may be used. The selection of Thai characters is You must be especially careful because in the event that the visitor’s computer does not have that character, It may cause visitors to not Can read letters

7. Picture There are 2 types of graphic files used: GIF or JPEG. Currently, PNG files are also available. Some websites use them as well. One of the main considerations for using type for maximum efficiency is the number of colors in the image. You should use a JPEG file type, but if it’s just a button. Or signs that don’t have a lot of colors should use GIF and consider the size of the file as well. In addition, there should be an estimate. The size of the image to be placed on the website first. in order to use the size and ratio that is most satisfying

8. Indispensable components of the website For example, topics related to the creator. It may be history and/or current information (About us). These help increase trustworthiness for visitors. And more about the Search Sitemap navigation bar and there are other topics such as suggestions (Feedback) and frequently asked questions (FAQ — Frequently Asked Questions).

9. Before uploading the website to the server, it should be tested. Use both Netscape Communicator and Internet Explorer to see how slow or fast the loading speed is. Are both internal and external links correct? Are the images correct? Proofread and read the information. to ensure that the information is correct

10. After the website is published, if possible, it should be tested. Same as tested before publishing to be sure again. In addition to testing Things that must be done after publishing are surveying, improving, and maintaining the website. When you find a good idea Anything that can be used to improve the website should be noted down. If it is a minor edit, it should be corrected immediately. But if it’s an edit that takes a long time, you should wait a while to compile it. All things that need to be fixed

Advantages of having a website

Increase credibility: Make your business look professional.

Easier to reach customers: Customers can find information at any time.

Build a brand: Create a good image for your business.

Increase sales: Products or services can be sold directly.

As a marketing channel: It can be used in many ways to market online.

Collect customer data: Use data for analysis and business development.

Open business opportunities: expand customer base to new customer groups

How to choose the right website

Set objectives: Before starting a website You must clearly define what you want your website to do, such as displaying products/services, building a brand, selling things online, providing information, etc.

Target group: Determine the group of customers you want to use the service. To be able to design websites and content to meet the needs of the target group.

Choose a platform: There are many website building platforms to choose from, such as WordPress, Wix, Squarespace, and each has its own pros and cons. You should choose a platform that suits your needs and budget.

Website Design: Good website design helps attract customers and create a positive user experience. You should choose a color tone, logo, and style that is consistent with your business’ brand.

Create Content: Create content that is useful, interesting, and relevant to the needs of your target audience. To attract customers to visit the website and return for repeat visits.

Add functionality: Choose to add necessary functionality such as shopping cart system, contact form, map, blog, etc.

Check compatibility: Make sure that your website displays well on different devices such as computers, tablets, smartphones.

Promote your website: Once you’ve created your website, You need to promote it so that more people know about your website, such as SEO, online advertising, and use of social media.

summarize

Having a website is a worthwhile investment for any size business. Help your business grow and succeed in the digital age. If you want to create a successful website You should plan carefully. and choose a reliable website development company wynnsoftsolution.com To get a website that meets your needs and budget

0 notes

urboyyjamm · 7 months ago

Text

“A Day in My Life as a First-Year Maritime Student”

Being a first-year maritime student is a thrilling yet overwhelming experience. It’s a time of transition, where I am introduced to the world of maritime studies and begin to lay the foundation for what will hopefully be a long and fulfilling career at sea. The academic workload is demanding, and the practical skills I need to develop seem daunting at times. But each day brings new learning, discovery, and challenges that make me more excited about the journey ahead. Here’s what a typical day looks like in my life as a first-year maritime student.

Early Morning: Starting the Day with Preparation

My day starts early, often before sunrise. I usually wake up around 6:00 a.m. The first thing I do is check the weather. As a maritime student, I know how important it is to understand weather patterns and how they affect ships, navigation, and sea operations. It’s also a habit I’ve developed from the early lessons on how maritime professionals must always stay informed and be prepared for any conditions at sea.

After a quick breakfast—usually something light like toast and coffee—I go over my schedule for the day. Being a first-year student means a lot of new information and concepts are introduced, and it can be easy to forget things if I don’t stay organized. I grab my textbooks, notebooks, and the essential items I’ll need: a calculator, a compass for navigation exercises, and my study binder. One thing I’ve learned quickly is that being prepared is half the battle. In this field, every small detail counts, whether it’s understanding how to read nautical charts or knowing the names of different parts of a ship.

Morning Classes: Getting a Taste of Maritime Theory

By 8:00 a.m., I’m usually heading to campus. My school is located near the waterfront, which I find inspiring. On the way to class, I pass by the harbor, and I can often see ships docked, ready to set sail. It’s a constant reminder of why I chose this path and what I’m working toward.

The first classes of the day are theoretical. As a first-year student, I’m introduced to the fundamental concepts of maritime studies. Today, for example, we’re learning about the different types of ships and their uses. The terminology can be overwhelming at first—terms like "bulk carriers," "container ships," "tankers," and "reefers" all sound foreign, but over time, I’ll become more familiar with them. Understanding these basics is crucial, especially as they lay the groundwork for more advanced topics down the line.

We also cover introductory topics in maritime safety and the International Maritime Organization (IMO) regulations. The first-year curriculum includes a lot of general knowledge, including topics like global shipping routes, the importance of sea transport to international trade, and the role of maritime professionals in ensuring the safety of vessels. It’s a lot to take in, but I’m slowly starting to see the bigger picture of the maritime industry and my role within it.

One of the challenges of being a first-year student is the sheer volume of new information. For example, in my maritime safety class, we’ve already touched on lifesaving equipment like lifeboats, life jackets, and the basic survival techniques every seafarer needs to know. It’s not just about memorizing facts; it’s about understanding how these safety measures could save lives in an emergency. There’s a real sense of responsibility that comes with being in this field, and the gravity of it is something that starts to sink in with each lesson.

Midday: Break and Peer Discussions

Around noon, we break for lunch. This is when I get the chance to catch up with my fellow first-year students. Most of us are still adjusting to the rigor of maritime life, and we often talk about the challenges we’re facing. Some of my peers have more hands-on experience—either they grew up in coastal areas or have relatives who worked at sea. I often ask them for tips on how to study better or how to remember certain concepts, and I’m always amazed by the wealth of knowledge they bring to the table.

During lunch, we might also discuss our practical training sessions, which are an exciting part of being a maritime student. Though we don’t have much hands-on experience yet, we’re looking forward to the days when we’ll get to board real vessels or practice on simulators. There’s a sense of camaraderie among us as we share our hopes, fears, and aspirations. We all know that we’re in this together, and there’s comfort in knowing that others are facing similar challenges.

Afternoon Classes: Introduction to Practical Skills

After lunch, it’s back to the classroom for more lectures. As a first-year maritime student, a lot of my classes are focused on building foundational knowledge. We’re introduced to basic navigational principles, such as how to read maps, use a compass, and understand coordinate systems. These skills will be critical as we progress to more advanced navigation and piloting lessons in the coming years.

Today’s class focuses on understanding the basics of celestial navigation. It sounds complex, but we’re just learning how the stars, the sun, and the moon can be used to help sailors find their way across the ocean. While it’s fascinating, it’s also intimidating because it’s clear that we have a long road ahead before we become proficient at these skills. Our instructors emphasize that, as a seafarer, we must always have multiple ways of determining our position to avoid getting lost at sea.

In addition to navigation, we’re also learning about ship construction and maintenance. Today, we’re studying the different parts of a ship—like the hull, deck, and engine room—and how they function. I find it incredible how much goes into making a ship seaworthy. The more I learn, the more respect I develop for the engineers, sailors, and officers who are responsible for keeping a vessel in top condition.

Late Afternoon: Reflection and Study

By the end of the academic day, around 4:00 p.m., I’m often exhausted but energized by everything I’ve learned. As a first-year student, there’s a lot to absorb, and it can be overwhelming at times. But I know that it’s just the beginning, and every class is a stepping stone toward my future career. I head back to my dorm room, grab a snack, and sit down to review the day’s lessons.

I usually spend a few hours going over my notes, re-reading chapters from my textbooks, and completing any assignments. There are still a lot of terms and concepts that I need to memorize—like the names of various maritime laws or the types of vessels used for different purposes—but I know that repetition will help me get there. I also try to prepare for the next day’s classes, reviewing any materials that will be covered and making sure I understand the key points.

The academic workload is definitely intense, and sometimes I wonder if I’ll be able to keep up with everything. But the more I dive into the material, the more I realize how much I enjoy it. Maritime studies are not just about learning facts; they’re about gaining skills that will make a real difference in the world.

Evening: Unwinding and Looking Ahead

By the time evening rolls around, I try to unwind and relax. Being a first-year student means there’s a lot of pressure to perform well, but I’ve learned that it’s important to find time for myself as well. Sometimes, I take a walk by the harbor, thinking about the life ahead of me at sea. Other times, I chat with my roommates, who are also maritime students, about what we’ve learned that day or what we’re looking forward to in the next semester.

Before bed, I take a moment to reflect on the progress I’ve made so far. The first year of any program can be overwhelming, but I remind myself that this is just the beginning. There’s still so much to learn, but I’m excited for what’s to come. Every day brings me closer to my dream of working at sea and becoming part of the global maritime community.

Conclusion

A day in the life of a first-year maritime student is filled with challenges, learning, and discovery. It’s a mix of theory, practical skills, and personal growth, as I begin to understand the complexities of the maritime world. The journey is just starting, and while there are moments of doubt, I know that every day spent in the classroom or studying will bring me one step closer to my ultimate goal. I may be a first-year student, but the experiences, lessons, and friendships I am building will shape my future as a maritime professional.

#To Persuade #Education purposes

1 note · View note

monab-india · 7 months ago

Text

Versatile Crossbody Bags For Women: From Work to Weekend

Every woman's closet now must include crossbody purses since they provide the ideal balance of fashion, practicality, and usefulness. Crossbody bags for women offer a flexible option that blends in with any lifestyle, whether you're going to the office or organizing a weekend trip.

Reasons why crossbody bags are the best accessory for women

From Desk to Dinner: The capacity of crossbody bags for women to easily go from day to night is one of its best qualities. These backpacks provide plenty of room for carrying necessities like your wallet, phone, keys, and even a small tablet or notebook during the workday. They are appropriate for office environments because of their polished and elegant design. In the evening, the same crossbody bag for women can mix well with your dinner outfit, making it simple to head from work to a social gathering or dinner date.

Compact and Convenient crossbody bags for women: For women on the go, convenience is key. Crossbody bags for women are designed to be compact yet spacious enough to hold all your necessities. The adjustable strap allows you to wear the bag comfortably across your body, keeping your hands free for other tasks. This makes them ideal for commuting, running errands, or exploring new places on the weekends.

Stylish Versatility: Crossbody bags for women are available in an extensive array of designs, hues, and materials, so there's bound to be a crossbody bag that complements any ensemble or event. These bags may readily adjust to your fashion needs, ranging from sophisticated, traditional leather designs to lively, casual options for a more relaxed look. Because crossbody bags for women are so adaptable, you may buy a few essential pieces that will last you through the week and into the weekend.

Secure and Practical: Security is another important factor to consider when choosing a bag. Crossbody bags for women are designed to be worn close to the body, making it harder for would-be thieves to snatch them. Many designs also feature secure closures, such as zippers or magnetic snaps, ensuring that your belongings are safe. This makes them an excellent choice for travel or busy city environments where security is a concern.

Effortless Organization: Crossbody bags for women make it simple to keep your possessions organized. Numerous designs feature numerous pockets, dividers, and compartments, enabling you to organize your belongings for convenient access. Crossbody bags for women provide useful ways to keep everything organized, whether you need a specific pocket for your phone, a zippered area for valuables, or just a roomy main portion for larger goods.

Ideal for Travel: Crossbody bags for women are an essential piece of gear when traveling. They make it easy to navigate metropolitan streets, train stations, and airports thanks to their hands-free design. In addition to meeting airline carry-on requirements, women's crossbody purses are small enough to include your travel necessities. To protect your personal information from online theft while traveling, look for designs that have RFID protection.

Weekend Ready: On weekends, crossbody bags for women continue to shine with their practicality and style. Whether you're heading to a brunch, going shopping, or taking a weekend getaway, these bags offer the perfect blend of form and function. Choose a playful design with bright colors or unique patterns to add a touch of fun to your weekend outfits.

On the contrary, messenger bags for women have evolved into a chic and multipurpose accessory that adds flair and utility. The argument over whether to choose a modern or vintage messenger bag for ladies frequently centers on this topic. Each has its own charm and advantages, so in order to choose the best one for you, it's critical to comprehend how they differ.

The Charm of Vintage Messenger Bags for women

Vintage messenger bags for women are a timeless choice that exudes a sense of nostalgia and elegance. These bags often feature classic designs, high-quality materials like leather, and intricate details such as brass buckles and stitching.

The Appeal of Modern Messenger Bags

On the other hand, modern messenger bags for women are designed with contemporary aesthetics and the latest technology in mind. These bags cater to the needs of today’s fast-paced lifestyle, offering features that vintage bags might lack.

Messenger bags for women, whether vintage or contemporary, each have certain benefits that make them appropriate for a range of demands and preferences. The ideal messenger bag for women is waiting for you, regardless of your preference for the classic style of a vintage bag or the cutting-edge features of a contemporary design. You may select a courier bag that complements your clothing and blends in with your lifestyle by taking your needs, preferences, and budget into account.

#crossbody bags #crossbody bags for women #handbags for women

0 notes

gladstones-corner · 9 months ago

Text

On the Power Bag

I've mentioned this before, but I want to dive in deeper today. Before we do, however, I need to get a couple things out of the way regarding my qualifications to speak on this topic.

About Glad

First, as many of you know I am a member of the Ancient Order of Druids in America (AODA). At my current degree, the Order introduces a tool called the Crane Bag. I am not authorized to disclose certain details, but for more information please consult the public AODA article on the subject. What I can say is that the Crane Bag is one expression of a cross-cultural phenomenon.

I know that some will bristle at the idea of a "non-indigenous" culture using such a tool, but there is technically a mythological precedent for it (check page 4 here) among Celtic practitioners--of which the AODA is strongly influenced by.

Secondly, I am biracial. One of my parents is Mexican, the other Germanic. While the latter cultures generally do not carry such a bag, several cultures within the United Mexican States do. They are called many things (Medicine Bag, Sacred Bundle, etc.), but again are cultural expressions of a cross-cultural phenomenon.

I will admit that just because I am Mexican-American does not entitle me to speak as an expert on the Sacred Bundle. I am not a curandero, and thus do not have the training nor the authority to speak about the particulars of such a tool. However, my heritage has made me familiar with the tool, at least to the extent that I can speak about its prevalence in Latin America.

One last note: to be as non-appropriative and account for as many cultures as possible, I will be referring to the general tool as the Power Bag. I will disclose no details about any real Power Bags I know of.

Okay, let's get started.

What is the Power Bag?

The Power Bag is a bag or bundle that contains objects sacred to its owner, who typically keeps its contents private. There are varying beliefs as to why they're private, but I don't need to preach to other magicians about the Levi's Fourth Tenet: to keep silence.

The Bag itself can be of any size, and indeed has been most reasonable sizes throughout history. It is traditionally made of hide or leather, though in the modern day any natural material may be used. In the case of large Power Bags, the wrap itself often serves as the pad upon which the contents sit when in use.

As for the contents, they can be any sacred objects within the magician's working life. This can of course mean physical tools, like a blade or rune set. However, it also includes objects of power, such as incenses, offerings, or amulets. Note that these objects have spirits of their own, and thus are not simply disposable. The magician must build a relationship with their sacred objects and mindfully decide the next stop on their journey when they are finished working with the magician.

What Goes Into a Power Bag?

Let’s take a brief look at some examples of the Power Bag by reintroducing our hypothetical magicians Sam, Kelley, and Nick (from my article on working together). They each carry a Power Bag, but because they have different foci, their contents are different.

Sam is an avid hiker. They often find themselves on the trail. As a result, their Power Bag contains a knife, lighter, paracord, and other survival gear. It also contains a journal of leaf and spore prints, along with photographs of things discovered on the trail. Finally, it holds their wand and vessel, allowing them to perform their version of the Great Rite outdoors.

Kelley is less of a hiker and more of an artist. Therefore, their bag contains some notebooks, pens, pencils, and other art supplies. They also carry incense, a burner, and small deity statues they sculpted for offerings. Kelley’s bag also holds their wand, which they use as an all-purpose magical focus.

Finally, Nick is a divination specialist. As a result, their bag contains witch-stones, a tarot deck, runes, and a casting cloth. It also holds a journal and pen for keeping a divination log. And as usual for this group, Nick’s bag carries their wand—but they also keep travel sizes of the blade, vessel, and disc to complete the elemental ritual set.

Making Your Own Power Bag

Hopefully this has given you a solid idea about what the Power Bag truly is, at least from a practical standpoint. But don’t give into the temptation of getting a large backpack, stuffing it with every magical item you own, and lugging it everywhere. Recall that the objects in the bag should be significant to your daily life. Start with what you already carry.

Do you have a purse? Perhaps you carry a satchel to work? Already you have the beginnings of your Power Bag. Some people like to keep their bag separate; others don’t mind mixing them all together with mundane items. I do a little of both, depending on the situation—but I digress.

Ask yourself what you can carry that would benefit you without being burdensome. Does your shrine have a spare crystal that calls to you? Maybe you have some loose tobacco or coffee that you want to scatter as offerings to the local nature spirits? Think small.

That said, I have some suggestions for items that are common to Power Bags. Items from the natural world are nearly always present—a few crystals, some seeds, nuts, or leaves, even some fur or feathers (legally and ethically obtained, of course). I am a traditional magician; I believe that you at least need a wand and vessel. Though I find the Great Rite a bit too heteronormative for my tastes, the wand is a ubiquitous magical focus and the vessel holds everything from offerings to consumables.

Conclusion

At the end of the day, the important thing is that your Power Bag reflects your practice. Its contents should be portable, or at least wieldable enough to take with you daily. You should use them for meditation and magic, giving power to them when you can and drawing power from them as needed. Giving power to the items doesn’t always have to be an active thing—sleeping with the Power Bag nearby, keeping it with you, and using the items inside all charge them and imprint your magical signature upon them. In time, the Power Bag becomes a microcosm of your practice.

As always, thank you for reading. Stay safe and stay tuned.

Blessings~

#glad’s thoughts #power bag

1 note · View note

raymondduggantravel · 11 months ago

Text

Enhancing Your Experience: Our New Approach to Monetization

Dear Readers,

We’re excited to share some updates about how we plan to keep our website running smoothly while maintaining a great user experience for you. As you may know, we’ve been exploring different ways to monetize our site to ensure we can continue delivering high-quality content.

Why No Banner Ads?

We recently looked into displaying banner ads through Sovrn. However, they require a minimum of 10,000 monthly views to show ads, which we are not quite at yet. Rather than filling our pages with distracting ads, we have chosen a different path that we believe will be more beneficial to you and us: affiliate marketing.

What is Affiliate Marketing?

Affiliate marketing allows us to recommend products and services that are relevant to our content. When you click on these links and make a purchase, we earn a small commission at no extra cost to you. This method aligns with our goal of providing value without compromising the quality of your experience on our site.

How It Benefits You

Cleaner Look: Without the clutter of banner ads, our website remains clean and easy to navigate.

Relevant Content: The affiliate links we include are for products and services that complement the topics we cover, making them more useful for you.

Support Our Work: By using our affiliate links, you help us generate revenue, which allows us to keep creating the content you love.

What You Can Expect

You’ll notice affiliate links naturally integrated into our articles and blog posts. For example, if we’re writing about the best tools for productivity, we might include links to products we genuinely recommend, such as ergonomic chairs, productivity software, or quality notebooks.

Here’s an example of how these links might appear:

Boost Your Productivity with These Tools

Creating a productive workspace is essential for efficiency and focus. Here are some tools that can help you get started:

Ergonomic Office Chair: Check it out here

High-Quality Notebooks: Find them here

Productivity Software: Explore options here

If Sovrn requires a minimum of 10,000 monthly views to show ads, but you're currently below that threshold, focusing on affiliate marketing and other strategies can still be effective for monetizing your site. Here’s how you can craft a blog post to inform your audience about this approach:

Enhancing Your Experience: Our New Approach to Monetization

Dear Readers,

Why No Banner Ads?

What is Affiliate Marketing?

How It Benefits You

Cleaner Look: Without the clutter of banner ads, our website remains clean and easy to navigate.

Relevant Content: The affiliate links we include are for products and services that complement the topics we cover, making them more useful for you.

Support Our Work: By using our affiliate links, you help us generate revenue, which allows us to keep creating the content you love.

What You Can Expect

Here’s an example of how these links might appear:

Boost Your Productivity with These Tools

Creating a productive workspace is essential for efficiency and focus. Here are some tools that can help you get started:

Ergonomic Office Chair: Check it out here

High-Quality Notebooks: Find them here

Productivity Software: Explore options here

Transparency and Trust

Your trust is important to us. That’s why we want to be clear about our use of affiliate links. These links help us earn commissions that support our site, and we promise to only recommend products and services we truly believe in and that align with our content.

Thank you for your continued support and understanding. If you have any questions or feedback, please don’t hesitate to reach out. We’re committed to providing you with a great experience and valuable content.

Happy reading!

#destination #travel blog #june1st #traveltips #virtualtour #wanderlust #travel photography #travel #traveling #philippines

0 notes

openingnightposts · 1 year ago

Link

#Author #Essay #JoanDidion #Novel #VictoriaDammer

0 notes

pinkkyadav00 · 2 years ago

Text

Strategies for Effective UPSC Preparation: From Start to Finish

Embarking on the journey of preparing for the UPSC (Union Public Service Commission) examination is a significant endeavour that requires meticulous planning, unwavering dedication, and strategic execution. The UPSC examination, known for its rigor and comprehensive syllabus, demands a well-structured approach that covers every stage of preparation. In this blog, we will delve into a comprehensive guide on strategies for effective UPSC preparation, guiding aspirants from the very beginning to the final stage.

Understanding the UPSC Exam

Before diving into preparation, it is crucial to gain a deep understanding of the UPSC examination. Familiarize yourself with the three stages: Prelims, Mains, and the Personality Test (Interview). Research the syllabus, exam pattern, and marking scheme for each stage. This foundational knowledge will help you set realistic goals and align your study plan accordingly.

Formulating a Study Plan

A well-structured study plan is the cornerstone of successful UPSC preparation. Break down the vast syllabus into manageable chunks, allocating sufficient time to each topic. Balance subjects according to your strengths and weaknesses. Weekly and monthly goals, along with a timetable, will help you stay organized and on track.

Selecting Study Materials

Choose study materials wisely. Start with basic resources like NCERT books for building a strong foundation. Gradually progress to standard reference books and UPSC-specific study materials. Make use of online platforms, video lectures, and podcasts to enhance your learning experience.

Focus on Current Affairs

Stay updated with current affairs through newspapers, magazines, and online sources. Develop a habit of taking notes on relevant topics and issues. Create a separate notebook or digital document to compile important current affairs information for quick revision.

Effective Note-taking

Develop a system for note-taking that works best for you. Highlight key points, make concise summaries, and use mind maps to visualize complex topics. Well-organized notes will serve as valuable revision tools as the exam approaches.

Consistent Revision

Revision is the key to retention. Regularly revisit your notes and revise previously covered topics. Dedicate specific time slots for revision in your study plan. Employ techniques like spaced repetition to reinforce your memory.

Practice Mock Tests

Mock tests are indispensable for UPSC preparation. Take regular mock tests to simulate the exam environment and assess your progress. Analyse your performance to identify strengths and areas that need improvement. Use previous year question papers to familiarize yourself with the exam pattern.

Enhance Answer Writing Skills

The Mains examination places significant emphasis on answer writing. Practice writing concise, coherent, and well-structured answers. Focus on clarity, use of examples, and analytical thinking. Seek feedback from mentors or peers to refine your writing style.

Develop a Healthy Routine

A sound mind resides in a healthy body. Maintain a balanced routine that includes physical exercise, a nutritious diet, and adequate sleep. A healthy lifestyle enhances concentration, memory, and overall well-being.

Stay Motivated

UPSC preparation is a marathon, not a sprint. Stay motivated by setting short-term milestones and celebrating small achievements. Join study groups, interact with fellow aspirants, and draw inspiration from success stories.

Conclusion

Effective UPSC preparation requires a combination of strategic planning, consistent effort, and a positive mindset. By understanding the exam, formulating a comprehensive study plan, and implementing proven strategies, aspirants can navigate through the challenges and emerge successful. Remember, the journey might be arduous, but with dedication and the right strategies, the destination of success is attainable.

#UPSC Preparation #Delhi IAS

0 notes

thatonegaytheaterkid · 4 years ago

Note

Hello! I found you're [Insert Genshin Character] Personality type for Class 1-A while randomly scrolling and it made me squeal a little bit- but just to ask, can you do one with a Qiqi-type personality? Like Qiqi's just so adorable and forgetful~~

I'm happy to know that it made you happy!~✊😌AND AHHH, I love Qiqi!! She's on my main team, she's adorable!!✨🥰

(I really need to find some different gifs to use-)

Class 1-A with someone with a Qiqi type personality

- When it comes to academics, you're extremely smart, however, you can easily forget everything that you've tried to teach yourself

- If it weren't for the fact that you forget easily, you would 10/10 be at one of the top places of the class

- You always carry around a notebook with you with information the have/want to remember, this is also the same reason you hate doing tests since you're not actually allowed to use it since it's considered cheating

- Without the notebook, it's likely that you'd hardly be able to remember anything about anyone, including yourself

- Surprisingly though, you know a lot about a ton of different herbs off the top of your head, you don't exactly know why though, maybe it has something to do with when you didn't die

- Oh, did I forget to mention that you died? Yeah, it happened when you were fourteen (you're seventeen now btw), you were brought back by someone's revival quirk in America since your family didn't want to give up on you, sadly enough though, when you were brought back you weren't exactly the same, all emotion you had seemed to have increasingly fade away being unable to express much of it

- In that aspect, you're similar to Todoroki with being unable to convey specific emotions

- Now, when it comes to combat, you're actually quite good, however, you're also exceptionally good at healing so the class gets a bit nervous whenever anyone has to one on one you since no matter what anyone does you're always able to heal yourself, you're also able to manipulate ice at will so that's just a plus that came with your quirk

- Also since stamina doesn't really play a part in anything, whenever the person you're going against gets tired or shows any signs of it you're able to quickly take them down with ease

- At this point I'd say who you get along with the most but you don't exactly...remember, who you get along with

- You try to write down as much as you can in your notebook, with info on everyone in the class

- You try your best to train yourself to remember everyone in the class as best as you can, but as soon as you step away for a few seconds you'll forget

- The best you can do is remember is everyone's names and small details about them like, Bakugou is loud, Deku is smart, Uraraka is floaty and aspects of everyone similar to that

- You and Deku like to talk a lot he also carries around a notebook with him wherever he goes

- You and Todoroki can easily get along with one another since you both are calm and quiet

- As rude or mean as Bakugou is, he tries not to get mad at you as regularly as he does at everyone else, he doesn't admit it and never will, but when he heard about how you're pretty much a zombie and how you died at one point in your life and now you're forgetful and unable to show much emotion, he felt a small bit heartbroken, so whenever you're around he's always a bit more calm then usual, sometimes he'll even be nice to you...in his own way

- "HEY FORGET-ME-NOT, (his lil nickname for you), T-Thanks for helping me out.."

- Kirishima thinks it's adorable that your a bit forgetful though, "Oh (Y/n), I think it's cute that he's a bit of an air head!"

- Because of your lack of emotion you may sometimes come off as cold to others when it's just the complete opposite, all you really want to do is help out everyone as much as possible

- You're always willing to help anyone with anything, you're also sort of like a god to the class at certain times, "Oh, you bumped your foot on the corner of this chair? Would you like me to fix it?" or "I see you're not feeling too well today, instead of having to make the long trip to the nurses office would you like me to make you feel better?"

- If there's a topic that you know well then you're always happy to help them with it even if it doesn't really show

- Though your facial expression usually stays the same, you're very kind towards the class an try your best to convey it in any way you can, like helping Sato with baking or listening to music with Jirou

- You don't like remaining alone for long periods of time because it reminds you of the solitude of death that you felt for the short time that you were not alive

#mha #bhna #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha x male reader #bnha x male reader #my hero academia x male reader #boku no hero academia x male reader #male reader #x male reader #x reader #genshin #genshin impact #qiqi #genshin qiqi #genshin impact qiqi

720 notes · View notes

phykios · 4 years ago

Text

Five Times Percy Jackson Cheated At School (And One Time Someone Cheated Him) [read on ao3]

thank you as always to @darkmagyk for inspo and beta-ing 💙💙💙 and thank you to @arosnowflake for the homer idea!

Percy squints at the paper prompt again, tilting his head, as if the new angle will extract some hidden information. It doesn’t change. The font is the special dyslexia-friendly one used by most departments at NRU, so he isn’t misreading it, either.

Your final will be an 8-10pp (TNR, 12pt, double-spaced) research paper expanding on one of the topics discussed in our class so far, or an alternate idea of your choosing, to be submitted in writing by May 7 with footnotes and bibliography. By 10am on the Wednesday before the Thursday class you will submit online a 750-word essay (word count does not include footnotes) on the research thread you have pursued that week (no written assignments due Week 6 or Week 12).

Percy might hate college.

“Your neck bothering you again?” Annabeth asks, coming up behind him, her hands already on his shoulders. She’s sweaty, dressed in workout clothes, having just come back in from a jog.

“My neck is fine,” he says. “Just preemptively freaking out over my Roman history final.”

He tilts his head back over the top of his chair, staring into the upside down, prettily frowning face of his girlfriend, and it does nothing to improve his mood.

“How bad is it?”

“Eight to ten pages,” Percy says, “not including footnotes.”

“Ouch.”

“And,” he grimaces, “it’s a topic of our choosing.”

Her mouth twists in sympathy. “Sucks.”

“Yep.”

“Anything I can do to help?” She squeezes his shoulders lightly, an open invitation.

He shakes his head, stretching his arms back to grab her waist. “Promise not to break up with me when you catch me crying at 4AM over it.”

“Promise.” And she seals it with a kiss, bending down to reach him. “Dad wants to know if you’re free on the 16th.”

“The 16th?” He wracks his brain. He’s pretty sure it doesn’t conflict with sailing, or Greek Club, or the monthly intra-pantheon relations council meeting that Chiron and Clarisse both guilted him into joining. “Pretty sure. Why?”

“Dinner--Charlotte’s out of town that weekend.”

“Sounds good.”

“Great, I’ll let him know. Now,” and she grins, “are you going to stare at that computer all day, or do you want to come and take a shower with me?”

Percy slams the computer shut.

He doesn’t think about his paper topic for a while after that.

***

To his great dismay, Percy gets to her dad’s house first on the 16th. Drama in writing group 🙄 she texts him as he gets to the door, be there asap.

Great. Alone in the house with his girlfriend’s dad. Taking a deep breath, he knocks on the door.

Not a minute later, Dr. Chase opens it. Last time they went to visit, Percy and Annabeth had ended up waiting outside for almost a quarter of an hour. “Oh, Percy,” he says, fumbling his flight helmet off his head. “Goodness, I thought I’d lost track of time again. Come in, come in.”

“Thanks,” Percy says, stepping inside and shedding his jacket. “Annabeth’s running late, but she said she’d be here soon.”

He frowns, looking so much like Annabeth that it throws Percy for several loops. “Well, that’s alright,” he says. “I’m sure we can entertain ourselves well enough until she gets here.”

“Yeah,” Percy chuckles, uneasy.

Several seconds pass.

“Oh!” starts Dr. Chase. “Right, yes. Come in. Would you like something to drink?”

Spoiler alert: it doesn’t get much better.

A few minutes of staggered conversation later, it becomes eminently clear why they need Annabeth between them. It’s not the awkward small talk that doesn’t go anywhere (“How’s school going for you?” “It’s okay.” “Good, that’s good to hear.”) or the fact that Dr. Chase doesn’t really grasp how to relate to younger kids (“Have you heard of this website called ‘Vine’?”), but more that it’s just painfully obvious that the two of them don’t really know where they stand with each other.

Now, he knows that Frederick Chase doesn’t hate him. Objectively, he’s aware of the fact that, if it weren’t for him, Annabeth never would have reconnected with her father in the first place, and he kind of owes him for that. Also, Percy knows that he’s a pretty chill guy--a little scatterbrained, but chill.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to make a good impression, though. Or that Dr. Chase thinks that Percy is smart enough for his daughter. Because, like, Percy isn’t smart enough for Annabeth--that much is obvious. Dr. Chase was courted by Athena. Percy barely made it out of high school calculus.

“Would you…” Dr. Chase hedges, plucking off his glasses and giving them a quick wipe with his shirtsleeve. “Would you like to see some of my current research?”

“Uh… sure. I’d love to.”

At the very least, hopefully Dr. Chase will talk enough for the both of them, eating up time until Annabeth gets here.

A new spring in his step, Dr. Chase leads Percy to his study, where he’s got a setup worthy of Cabin Six: on his desk is a massive map of the Mediterranean, littered with miniatures of tanks, planes, and ships. Ringing the room are wall-hangings, depicting different types of planes, half of their structure in x-rays like people in an anatomy textbook, sandwiching the giant viking sword which hangs directly behind his chair. Every inch of floor space is occupied with a pile of books, some serving as additional desk space for mugs, notepads, spare toy soldiers, and, in one case, what looks like the leftovers of a handful of celestial bronze spearheads, melted down into shiny, useless nuggets.

“You know I primarily study aviation,” Dr. Chase is saying, tidying up as he walks around the room, “but my colleagues and I are collaborating on an interdisciplinary re-evaluation of the entire North African theatre in World War II. It’s fascinating stuff; until very recently, they used to call it the ‘war without hate,’ given the lack of partisan roundups and, ah, ethnic clashes that you see in Europe--absolute garbage, of course. As if there weren’t civilians caught up in the fighting, too!” He chuckles, pleased at his own joke. Percy forces a laugh out of himself. “Anyway, with my prior experience studying the invasion of Sicily, I was brought on to assist in piecing the timeline together, working backwards from 1943.”

“Cool,” says Percy, filling the natural gap of conversation.

“Extremely! Operation Husky was a terrific endeavor of airborne, amphibious, and land-based combat.”

Percy nods. Amphibious? “Uh-huh.”

“Though, I must admit, I am having a little trouble retracing some of the ships.” Peering over his map, he leans down, fiddling with one of the ships. “You see this one here? The Palmer?”

Stepping up to the desk, Percy crouches down so the little toy ship is at eye level.

“Well, based on official records, the Palmer was supposed to have arrived at the rendezvous point at the same time as all the other ships, but ended up delayed by two days, and I can’t… quite…” He moves the ship again, frowning. “Figure out… why…”

“Where were they sailing through?” Percy asks.

Dr. Chase points to the map. “From Alexandria to Malta.”

“They probably just hit a bad couple of currents,” Percy says, standing up.

Tilting his head, Dr. Chase peers at him. “How do you mean?”

“If you’re going through the Cretan Passage, you’re going to hit all kinds of West-East currents which will push you backwards.” Snatching up a pencil from a nearby book stack, Percy lightly sketches on top of the map, tracing along the North African coast. “There are tons of overlapping currents in this area that push boats around in circles, especially around Sicily. That’s one of the reasons why so many historians figure that Homer was referring to the Strait of Messina when Odysseus goes through Scylla and Charybdis, here.” And he circles the strait, with a confident flourish.

When he pulls back, Dr. Chase is staring at him.

Percy blinks. “Um… sorry I drew on your map.”

“You--I have been trying to figure that out for weeks.”

He coughs, shrugging his shoulders. “Sorry.”

But Dr. Chase just laughs. “You can make it up to me by helping me with these next.” Clearing crumbs off of southern France, he bends over, pencil in hand. “So, say you were trying to get from Marseilles to Tunis…”

Forty-five minutes later, still embroiled in battle recreations of the Mediterranean theatre, they don’t hear Annabeth letting herself in with her key, not even registering her presence until Dr. Chase, grasping for a notebook, spots her leaning against the doorway. “Don’t stop on my account.”

“Oh, Annabeth, dear! I’m sorry,” says Dr. Chase, going over to give her a hug. “We didn’t hear you come in.”

“I can see that,” she says. “What are you guys doing?”

“Percy here has been assisting me with naval movements,” he says, proudly.

Lacing her fingers with his, Annabeth steps over to Percy, studying their battle map. “Really?”

“Oh yes, he’s been phenomenally helpful.”

She kisses his cheek, pleased. “Look at you, Mr. ‘Phenomenally Helpful.’”

“It was pretty fun,” he admits, warm all over.

“I’d bet. Although, I guess this means we should probably order in for dinner…?”

Rubbing at the back of his neck, Dr. Chase smiles. “Yes, I suppose we should. Does pizza sound all right to you two?”

“Let me take care of it,” she says, slipping from Percy’s side. “You guys looked like you were in the middle of something. Extra olives, dad?”

“Don’t forget--”

“And anchovies, Percy, I know.” She rolls her eyes, taking out her phone.

Rather than the three of them move into the kitchen, Annabeth ends up bringing the pizza in with her, because of course she has opinions she’d like to share about the Allies’ naval movements.

“You know, Percy,” says Dr. Chase, “I must say, you have a real knack for this kind of thing. Have you thought about what you might major in yet?”

Ah, the million drachmae question. “Not yet,” he says, fiddling with a pencil. “I figured I’d get through my gen eds first and then see which one I hated the least.”

“I think you should consider majoring in history.”

Percy’s head snaps up. “History?”

“Specifically maritime history, I suppose. Your predisposition to sailing and ocean currents would be a huge asset to your research.”

“But--wouldn’t history have, like, a metric ton of required reading? I’m not really sure that’s my area.” He has a daughter with dyslexia and ADHD; surely he’d understand Percy’s hesitation.

But he just shakes his head. “Graduate programs these days are very favorable towards interdisciplinary methodology, I sincerely doubt you’d have to barricade yourself in the library. And recently there’s been a significant push to make the field more accessible to students with disabilities, including things like digitization, screen reading for people with vision impairments, and even restructuring programs all together so that students no longer have to memorize the Encyclopedia Britannica in order to pass their general exams.”

“That’s really nice of you to say, Dr. Chase,” Percy says, “But history class isn’t like talking over naval movements with you.” He thought back to the paper that had lowkey been haunting his dreams. “Like, in my classical history survey, I can’t just… talk about currents and battle plans. I have to come up with a topic on my own, and then write about that.”

“Surely something involving Roman naval movements would be well within your skill set. You have a second sense about these things,” he chuckles, “clearly.”

Percy glances towards Annabeth, hoping she’ll back him up, but she looks thoughtful. Considering. Like she’s actually thinking about her dad’s proposal. “I can’t just choose something in naval history.”

“Why not?”

“Because… it's too easy?”

If it was anything like his afternoon with Dr. Chase, it might even be fun. And school isn’t supposed to be fun.

He repeats that thought to Annabeth as they drive home. “School isn’t supposed to be fun.”

“No,” Annabeth agrees, “but I don’t know… I like my intro art history class way better than anything we ever did in high school because I actually care about it. Maybe if you write about stuff you’re good at, like my dad suggested, you’ll like it more.”

The idea follows him all the way to bed, where he’s still mulling it over at 2 in the morning. Before he can chicken out, he grabs his phone, shooting off a quick email to his professor with his potential paper topic, then rolls over, eventually falling asleep.

By morning, he has a response.

Sounds good! Looking forward to it.

***

With shaking hands, Percy calls his mom. “Yes?”

“Hey mom.”

“Percy?” He hears her perk up, almost visualizing her sitting up in her chair. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

Mom instincts. They can always tell when something is different. His heart throbs in his chest. “Nothing’s wrong,” he says, smiling stretching across his face. “It’s just--I got my paper back.”

Percy had ended up writing his paper about the Roman navy movements in the Battle of the Aegates in 241 BC. It was probably the most fun he’s ever had on a school assignment, or at least the most fun he’d ever had writing a paper.

“And?” She sounds expectant, hopeful. His mom has always had such faith in him, even with thirteen years of schooling to prove her otherwise.

He looks back at his email, just to make sure he’s reading it right. “I got an A.”

She gasps. He can hear the scrape of the chair as she stands up. “Percy, that’s wonderful!”

“Thank you.”

“An A!”

He smiles into his fist, inordinately pleased. “Thank you.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I am so happy for you!”

“Thanks, mom.”

“I’m so proud of you, Percy.” Her voice is soft now, like twilights on the beach with blue marshmallows. “I know how hard you’ve worked for this. You should be very proud, too.”

“I am.” And he is, weirdly enough. “I just can’t believe it.”

“I can.” His mom must be grinning, her eyes sparkling. “I always knew you could do it.”

“Sally?” He hears in the background, muffled. “Is that Percy?”

“Paul, Percy got an A on his Roman history paper!”

A second voice crowds its way in, equally excited. “An A? That’s great, kiddo! Congratulations.”

Why can’t he stop smiling? “Thanks.”

“I bet that feels pretty good, doesn’t it?”

“It does.”

“Well, it is very well-deserved,” says Paul. “That was some great work you did. I could tell how passionate you were about your topic just from your first sentence.”

“Thank you.” Maybe he should be worried about all this praise going to his head, but damn, is it nice. “Listen, I have to go get started on dinner, but I just wanted to give you a call.”

“Of course,” says his mom. “I want to hear from you more, okay? Tell me more good news! Like when are you and Annabeth going to--”

“I’m working on it, okay?” says Percy, smiling even more broadly. “I’ll keep you posted, promise.”

She laughs, tinny and happy. “You’d better. Congratulations again, sweetheart.”

“Thanks mom. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

And he hangs up, puts his phone down on the table, tilts his head back, and sighs, full, happy, a release.

Maybe college won’t be so bad after all.

“You don’t have to do this,” Frank says, hushed. “All you have to do is walk away.”

Five Greek Fire bombs, cloudy yellow, are lined up on the table in front of him, neatly laid out in front of five twenties. From the side, Frank stares him down, surrounded by an army of morbidly curious Romans. Someone turned off the music and turned on the lights a while ago, stopping the party in its tracks, every eye on Percy and his opponent. Figures, his first college party all year and he causes a scene.

Percy grips the edge of the table. “He insulted the Mets,” he says for the millionth time. “I can’t let that shit stand.”

Frank sighs. “Annabeth?” he asks, hoping to stop this nonsense.

Turning to his side, Percy sees his girlfriend, two drinks in, her cheeks lightly flushed, but solid as she stands beside him, supporting him. Her eyes are hard, fierce, the warrior gaze of Athena all but leaping out of her. “Do it,” she says.

William, the sour-faced Roman legacy of Juventus, scowls. “A hundred bucks on the table. Sixty seconds. No throwing them back up.”

“Deal.”

“Frank,” Annabeth calls. “Start the clock.”

He sighs. “You guys are idiots.”

“Frank!”

“Okay, okay.” He holds out his phone, thumb primed, hovering over the screen. “On your marks, in three… two… one…”

He hits zero, and Percy grabs a shot glass. Squeezing his eyes shut, he brings it to his lips, and throws it back.

It’s… not what he expected.

The tequila is awful--no getting around that. Even to Percy’s untrained taste buds, having really only ever had some of Gabe’s sour beer (under duress) and some of the Demeter cabin’s strawberry wine (on his eighteenth birthday, a celebration for actually getting to graduate high school), he can tell it’s cheap, rank, unrefined shit, like he’s drinking straight toilet cleaner. But the garum, the weird Roman condiment that the shot is mixed with, the one that Percy had never heard of before, it’s… it almost tastes like the fish sauce that comes with the pork and rice noodles from the Vietnamese place down the corner of his mom’s apartment, only less… fishy? Yeah. Less fishy.

It’s a weird taste. It’s not bad, by any means, it just--straight up, it just tastes like saltwater. Like the sea.

And, well. Percy can handle the sea.

He looks at William, and grins. “You are so fucked.”

The assembled Romans cheer, spectators at a gladiator show, as Percy knocks back the rest of the Greek Fire bombs, one after another, clearing them all in under thirty seconds. Annabeth swipes up the cash, shrieking as she throws her arms around Percy. William wanders off, red-faced and glaring, as whoever turned the music off before flips it back on, the night, and the party, saved.

Silly Percy. He should have known what was coming next.

Thirty minutes later, he is well and truly wasted.

“You’re, like, really pretty,” he shouts at Annabeth over the loud music.

She snorts, grinning at him. “Thanks.”

“Seriously,” he slurs, tipping forward on his feet. “You could be a model.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Remember when we were fourteen,” he yells, bracing himself against the wall, “and you got kidnapped by that monster?” Slightly soberer but still a little flushed, she bites her lip, nodding. “Well, I followed the rescue party--I told you that, that I snuck out of camp to follow the rescue party? Right?”

“You did.”

He takes a sip of water, running his tongue around the inside of his mouth. Feels goofy as fuck. “We got hijacked by Aphrodite halfway through, and when I saw her, I thought--I thought, ‘Holy shit, she looks a little like Annabeth.’”

Her brows shoot up, smile pulling at her lips. “Really?”

He nods. “Totally! But you’re way, way p--”

Still smiling, she silences him with a kiss, the lingering taste of hard cider on her tongue. “I appreciate it,” she murmurs, grinning, “but you probably shouldn’t say that out loud.”

“Gross.”

From out of nowhere, like he always does, the weasley little shit, Nico di Angelo is suddenly in their space, looking surly and emo as ever, red solo cup in his left hand. “Nico!” Percy crows, grabbing for him and missing. “How’s my favorite cousin?!”

Ducking his wildly swinging limbs, Nico grimaces in the way that Percy has to come to recognize as his attempt at a smile. “Better’n you,” he says, a little wobbly. “What’s up with him?” he directs towards Annabeth.

“Greek Fire bombs. Five.”

“You’re a psychopath.”

“What!” Percy pouts. “He insulted the Mets.”

“Aren’t you s’posed to be, like…” Nico snaps his fingers, words momentarily escaping him. “A--representation… person? For the Greeks?”

Percy waves his hand, hitting the wall. “Fuck that. The Greeks can handle themselves. The Mets are sacred!”

“Are you with anyone?” Annabeth asks, momentarily taking up Percy’s usual role of concerned parent friend while he is drunk off his ass. Theoi, he loves this girl so much.

Nico shakes his head. “No, but Will and I are staying with--”

A thought suddenly blooms in Percy’s tequila-soaked brain. “Nico!” He shouts.

“What?” he hisses, glaring.

Percy pushes himself off of the wall, outstretched arms managing to box Nico in, falling on his shoulders and trapping him. He’s still a short, skinny little shit, the fuck, when are his Big Three genes going to kick in? “I need to talk to you about the thing.”

“The what?”

“The thing! The--the,” then he leans in, scream-whispering over the pounding bassline. “The thing.”

“That doesn’t help.”

“You know, it’s…” Percy licks his lips, language escaping him for a hot second. “Round. Metal. Jewelry thing.”

A beat, then Nico’s eyes widen. “Oh, that thing.”

“Yes, that thing!” Pulling back, he pulls Nico towards him, slinging an arm over his shoulders in a half-headlock. Annabeth watches, bemused, lips pursed as she tries not to smile. “I need to borrow Nico for a sec,” he says, words spilling out of him. “Back soon. Later. Soon.”

Her eyes crinkle, grey sparkling. She’s so fucking pretty. “Drink your water.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Then together, like some three-legged beast, the two boys lurch away deeper into the party, Nico leading them towards the kitchen. “Where’re you taking me?” Percy slurs. “‘M I being kidnapped again?”

“If I’m helping you plan out this stupid proposal,” he grumbles, pouring himself more vodka, “then I need to be less sober.”

***

Some mistakes may have been made.

“Where’s Annabeth?” Percy mumbles, looking back towards the house. The party is still raging, someone’s muffled Spotify playlist making a real racket, the greatest hits of ABBA still bouncing around his skull.

“Simp.” Nico, swaying a little, tries to stand up from his kneeling position, only to fall heavily back down on his knees. “She’s right where you left her.”

Discussing Percy's proposal plan had led to more drinking. More drinking had led to the two of them discussing their shared preference for blondes. (“Malcolm is pretty cute,” Nico admitted, flushing, and Percy almost screamed, “Isn’t he?! Sometimes I think about Annabeth with short hair looking like Malcolm and I almost start crying because she’d be so cute!”) Which then led to even more drinking. Which then led to general bitching about their lives, about Percy's hard-ass classics professor Dr. Bauer who he actually really liked but just pushed him so hard and expected so much of him, and Nico's half-brother Zagreus who was causing some family drama by picking fights with Hades all the time and also hooking up with both Thanatos AND the fury Megaera, which, ew, which then led to Percy inhaling his drink, nearly choking to death on unspecified college punch, Nico laughing at him all the while, as he had the most incredible idea.

"Nico!" He shouted, crushing the red solo cup. "Can you resurrect Homer for me?"

Nico gaped, staring. "What."

"Seriously! I need to ask him something for my paper."

"Percy." Nico gazed at him, all the power of the Ghost King boring into his soul, deep and haunting. Percy stifled a burp. "You're a fucking genius."

Which is how they found themselves around a shallow hole they had dug in the backyard, a large bottle of Pepsi originally intended as a mixer pilfered from the kitchen along with two slices of pepperoni pizza dumped on the grass beside them.

"Maybe we shouldn't do this," he says, uneasy even through his drunken haze.

"It was your idea!"

"I don't have good ideas."

“Fuck you, I’m doing it.” With all the force of a tiny, angry kitten, he snatches up the Pepsi bottle, wrestling with the twist cap for a good ten seconds. “I wanna give that bitch a piece of my mind for making me cry in school.”

Percy looks at him sideways. “Hector killing Patroclus got you, too?”

He snorts. “Fuck no. Achilles didn’t pay his dues to the dead.”

“Seriously?”

The cap pops off, and Nico tips the bottle over, dumping flat, lukewarm soda into the shallow hole. “It’s the ultimate dishonor!”

Freak. Percy would die for the kid.

“Let the dead taste again,” Nico mutters. “Let them rise and take this offering. Let them remember.”

“You’re so weird.”

“Says the guy who’s related to both horses and water.”

“I’m not related to water, I just control it.”

The dirt turns black, dead soil mixed with sticky sugar water. Nico drops in the pizza, and begins to chant, that same ancient Greek that Percy heard in a dream once, talking of death and memories and returning from the grave or whatever. It’s still creepy as shit.

Despite the warm California night, the air thickens with chilly fog. Silence, impenetrable, surrounds them, blocking out the noises of the party. From the earth, blueish, vaguely person-shaped figures begin to form, like thunderous clouds before a storm. “Which one is Homer?” he asks, hushed.

“Shh!” Nico hisses.

Like little wells of gravity, the fog begins to coalesce. On one of them, Percy can almost make out, like, fingers. “Um, Mr. Homer? Sir?”

The figure doesn’t say anything. It lowers its mouth, drinking the soda out of the dirt. When it raises its head, Percy can see it more clearly, curly hair and milky white eyes and a straight nose. It--he?--seems a little more solid than your average run-of-the-mill ghost.

Nico frowns, eyes closed, concentrating. “What’s your name?” he mumbles.

That mouth opens, soundlessly, jaw working on nothing.

“Speak.”

It--there’s a sound, like hissing, only it’s not coming from the mouth, Percy thinks. It sounds like it’s coming from the earth. “Nico?” he asks. “You good?”

The ghost opens its mouth again, moaning, raising its hands. Weakly, unsteadily, it stumbles forward on feeble legs, tripping over the shallow hole in the dirt.

“Nico?” he asks again, a little more forcefully. “What’s going on, dude?”

Nico blinks, slowly, mouth hanging open a little. “Uh.”

The… thing… raises itself up on its hands? He guesses, and knees, crawling its way over towards them.

Now, Percy may be drunk off his ass, but he has seen enough movies to know exactly what the fuck is up.

Moving with a speed he didn’t quite think was possible right about now, he grabs Nico’s wrist, and pulls him up, dragging him along as he lurches towards the house. “Percy…” Nico moans, stumbling over a rock. “I think I fucked up.”

“You think?” Percy wrenches the door open, tossing Nico inside, before following in after, throwing himself against the door.

Nico groans, throwing his arms over his face. “Dio santo, my head.”

“Forget your head,” he says, “did we just raise a Homer zombie?!”

Panting, Nico stares up at him, sprawled on the floor of the house. “Oops.”

Percy thunks his head against the door. He does not have nearly enough mental capacity to deal with this right now.

But, he thinks ruefully, at least it’s just one. Even drunk, he’s pretty sure he can handle one zombie.

Nico’s eyes widen.

Percy stares. “What.”

“I didn’t stop the ritual.”

His stomach goes cold.

Turning around slowly, he pulls aside the little curtain on the window. “What?” Nico asks. “What do you see?”

Percy can’t speak, mouth dry.

Slithering up behind, Nico peers over his shoulder. “That’s… not great.”

“Nico,” Percy says, eyeing the horde which slowly shambles closer, half-decayed bodies in togas bumping into each other, almost identical to the drunk college students inside, as the song changes, once again, to ‘Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight).’ “Please go get Frank and Annabeth.”

The following Monday, an announcement is sent out to the entire campus: Per new department guidelines, students may not utilize the ambassador of Pluto to interview the dead for academic purposes.

Percy attempts to flatten his hair. He readjusts his shirt. He almost wipes his sweaty palms on his pants, before he realizes what he’s doing, and clenches them instead, nails digging into his palms. He turns to Annabeth. “Do I look okay?”

“Ooh, ‘Mapping Funerary Monuments in the Periphery of Imperial Rome.’”

“Annabeth.”

She looks up from her brochure. “Relax, seaweed brain, you look fine. You look better than most people here.”

“That’s because I bring down the average age of presenters by about thirty years,” he hisses, eyes darting about at the milling mass of attendees, all packed into the hotel ballroom.

Dr. Bauer had alternately convinced/pressured/guilttripped him into attending this year’s annual conference for the Society of Classical Studies to talk about the research he’d been doing with her. This year, the conference was held in San Francisco, so at the very least Percy didn’t have to spend five hours stressing about his poster presentation while simultaneously up in the air. But now that he’s here, in the ballroom, surrounded by strangers who know way more about this subject than he does, who are actually smart and probably never nearly flunked out of school or got kicked out or--

“Hey.” Annabeth takes his hand. “I know that look. You deserve to be here just as much as any of them.”

“Do I? I feel like any moment someone is going to come over and throw me out for trespassing.” He vaguely recalls something similar happening to him as a kid after he had ducked into the lobby of a semi-nice hotel to dodge what he had thought, at the time, was just a weird stalker, but had later realized had only had one eye. In any case, the hotel security guard had practically picked him up by the scruff of his neck, tossing him back out into the street.

“That’s just your imposter syndrome talking,” she reassures him. “No one is going to throw you out.”

He sure as shit hopes so. It would be a shame to have done all this work for nothing.

Glancing back at his poster, Percy can’t help but feel… good. Accomplished. Proud. About a school assignment, of all things.

His poster traces the development of the prow from the Greek penteconter, to the Roman liburna, and finally to the Byzantine dromon, looking at artistic depictions in history. Percy had picked the topic himself, spending hours in the library reading, writing, and hand-drawing cross-sections of the ships on the poster board when the images he had gotten from the Cambridge University library had been too small. It had been grueling, frustrating work, but fun, too. And not nearly as much reading as he had feared.

Dr. Chase proofread it for him. Dr. Bauer signed off on it. And Annabeth had taken one look at it, smiled, then kissed his cheek.

That was the best compliment he had gotten.

Though now he’s kind of torn between showing it off and hiding it away before one of these attendees figures out that he doesn’t belong.

He rocks back and forth and his feet, pursing his lips, randomly clicking his tongue. Annabeth nudges him. “Your ADHD is showing.”

That’s when, finally, one of the attendees steps up to his poster. He certainly has the look of a professor, in a black cable knit sweater with grey, curly hair and a receding hairline, thin, rimless glasses perched on his nose. He squints at Percy’s poster, rubbing his chin with one hand. “Interesting,” he murmurs, in a thick German accent. “Very interesting. This is yours?”

“Um.” He glances at Annabeth, who is frowning at the brochure, silently sounding out words that she can’t read. “Yep. All mine.”

“Very interesting.” He leans in closer, tilting his head. “So you agree with Pryor and Jeffreys about the skeleton-first construction, then?”

Percy blinks. Pryor and Jeffreys had written The Age of the Dromon, arguing that the ram, which had been a key feature of Roman liburnians, had gone away in ancient ship construction because of developments in how they built the hull. Right. “Yes,” he says. “The skeleton-first construction is a lot stronger than the, um,” shit, what was the name for this, Leo had only told him about a million times--oh! “Mortise-and-tenon!” He nearly shrieks. “The mortise-and-tenon method. It, um, it wears out a lot more quickly than the frame, so… yeah.” He clears his throat.

He nods. “Very interesting.”

Percy stares. Can this guy say anything else?

“This is very well done, young man.”

Oh. “Thank you,” he says.

“Who are you working with?”

“Um, June Bauer?” He winces at the accidental question.

He frowns. “I’m not familiar with her work. Where does she teach?”

What a loaded question. “Uh… New Rome University.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s--she used to teach at Northwestern, if that helps. Um, retired,” Percy says.

The frown stays, but at least he doesn’t ask any more questions. “Hmm. Well, this is excellent research, nonetheless. I look forward to reading your dissertation.” Then, distracted by something else, he wanders off, chin still attached to his hand.

“Who was that?” Annabeth asks.

Percy shrugs. “Beats me. Also, what’s a dissertation?”

“It’s like a senior thesis, but, like, five hundred pages long.”

Five hundred?! “Fuck me.”

“Maybe later,” Annabeth smirks. “It looks like you’ve got company.”

Sure enough, a smallish group of four people are approaching, led by Dr. Chase, making a beeline straight for them. “Here we are,” Dr. Chase says, gesturing. “This is the project I was telling you about. Percy, would you mind going over your poster for us?”

“No problem, Dr. C,” says Percy, smiling his least-grimace-y smile.

As one, the adults all turn to look at him, faces politely blank, expectant.

Percy swallows. “So,” he begins, “um, this research is about the development of ship construction in the Roman empire…”

He trips up on some of the words, and at one point, he sees Dr. Chase squint in the way that usually means that Percy is speaking too fast, but all in all, he doesn’t totally fall flat on his face. His audience looks engaged, nodding along as Percy moves from point to point, and no one accuses him of being a giant fraud, which is pretty nice.

At one point, Percy turns to the poster to indicate a specific point on his ship diagrams. When he turns back, his audience has suddenly multiplied, four people turning into a whole goddamn crowd. Each person gives him their undivided attention almost unblinking.

His mouth goes dry. “Um…”

Dr. Chase, bless him, saves his ass once again. “Would mind starting again from the beginning, Percy?” he asks, a little bemused himself at the amount of people that had suddenly appeared.

Silence stretches on for a moment, the muffled noise of the rest of the conference like a dull roar in his ear.

Annabeth, behind him, coughs.

“S-sure. No problem.”

Swallowing, he closes his eyes, breathing in through his nose. Why, oh why did he let Dr. Bauer talk him into doing this again?

He pictures the tides of Long Island Sound, gentle and rocking, unhurried and unbothered, tries to match his breathing to them. When he opens his eyes, unfortunately, the crowd hasn’t disappeared. Everyone is still staring at him.

But Annabeth stands next to her dad, flashing him a big smile and two huge thumbs up.

Percy relaxes. He’s got this.

“Okay,” he says. “So, about the middle of the first millennium CE, ship construction went through a couple of major developments…”

This time goes much, much more smoothly. He’s not sure what it is--though it’s probably Annabeth, her face fixed in a gentle smile as she watches him speak. Gods, what did he do in a past life to deserve someone as amazing as his girlfriend?

That’s the only reason he can do this. Hell, that’s the only reason he even thought to do this. If he didn’t have Annabeth there, encouraging him, cheering him on, he never would have had the confidence to put himself out there like this. She’s there to pick him up when he doubts himself, there to listen when he can’t explain himself, there to give him feedback when he needs to practice.

She makes him feel so strong. She makes him feel like he can take on the world--or at the very least, that he can impress a handful of academics.

And they certainly seem impressed with his talk so far.

“Excuse me,” says a nasally, pinched looking older British guy, face lined as though he lived his life in a state of perpetual squinting. “I find your conclusions to be suspect--wouldn’t the frame method be more susceptible to breaking than the mortise-and-tenon?”

Well, most of them, anyway.

Percy shakes his head. “You’d think, but no. If you look at the study by Steffy, you’ll see that the three-finned ram from the Athlit wreck was designed specifically to break the mortise-and-tenon hull by causing the planks to flex, so that they’d dislodge the joinerys right next to them. A blow like that can cause the wood to split right down the middle.” A blow like that had sunk Sherman Yang’s ship when they tested it out on the lake at camp last summer, the naiads practically hurling him out of the water so quickly Percy didn’t even have to dive in to save him.

“How were you able to do these strength tests?” asks another listener, an older woman with a thick Hungarian accent.

“Hands-on battle simulations,” Percy replies, easily. “We took our models and tested them in as accurate a simulation as we could make.”

“And how big were these models?”

Percy holds his hands apart, a vague, entirely inaccurate estimate. “About thirty meters, give or take.”

Her eyes widen. “How on earth did you get your hands on such a large ship?”

Percy freezes. “Uh.”

Oh, shit.

He had forgotten--most people didn’t have dads who could summon shipwrecks from the bottom of the sea, dropping them off at Camp Half-Blood with nothing but a sand dollar and one or two exhausted, pissed off hippocampi who had had to drag them all the way there.

“Um,” he stammers, licking his lips, thinking fast--c’mon, Percy, think! “I…” He swallows, panicking. “I… b… built one.”

In the corner of his eye, Annabeth facepalms.

Simultaneously, every mouth in the crowd drops--in shock, outrage, and even excitement. “You built one?!” the woman yelps.

Oops. “I had help,” Percy says, quickly.

Annabeth adds a second hand to her facepalm.

“Where?” The first man asks, his bushy brows flying above the rim of his glasses.

“At my… summer camp…”

Dr. Chase sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I mean,” Percy chuckles, shrugging his shoulders, trying not to sweat too obviously, “it was either that or lanyards, am I right?”

Dr. Chase, thank Athena, raises his hand, ready to step in. “What Percy means to say, I believe,” he says, attempting to draw their attention, “is that--”

“That’s amazing!” says another woman, probably a grad student attendee based on the fact that she’s wearing jeans. “Do you have pictures?”

Oh this is not good. “Um, not--not on me, but--”

“I do.” Annabeth takes out her phone, holding it up to the person next to her.

Percy blinks. “You do?” He doesn’t remember her taking any pictures.

She shoots him a look, two parts exasperated and one part “shut up and let me handle this,” with just a dash of fondness in the mix. Pointedly, she looks at him, eyebrows raised, indicating that he should continue.

Oh. She’s using Mist. And he needs to keep their attention on him so that they buy it. “Right,” he says, clearing his throat. “Any more questions?”

His audience placated for now, passing around Annabeth’s phone, he manages to finish up his presentation. After fielding a few more questions, people start to peel off, distracted by other posters and presenters in the ballroom. When everyone has finally wandered away, Dr. Chase comes up and pats Percy’s shoulder awkwardly. “Nice work,” he says, and he seems like he means it. “A little touch-and-go there for a while, hm?”

“A little.”

He chuckles. “Still, you should be proud. I don’t know how many undergraduates would be able to handle that kind of pressure.”

“I mean,” Percy says, shrugging a shoulder, “it’s about on par with leading an army. Maybe a little less.” Honestly, maybe even a little more stressful. If a monster had decided to attack the convention center and interrupt his presentation, he probably would have been relieved.

He’d been worried for a moment that he’d undone all those years of work in making Annabeth’s dad like him. And that he’d be charged with some sort of academic fraud, for the whole “I have a boat” thing without proof. Thank the gods for Annabeth, as always.

She’s looking at him now through narrowed eyes. She at least can’t be surprised--that was far from the dumbest thing she’s ever seen him do. At least his “I spent most of my time at magic greek mythology summer camp” covers are normally better than hers. As someone who spent his formative years in the real world, he’s usually pretty good at keeping the demigod thing under wraps.

“Come on,” she says, grabbing his hand. She pulls him off, through the dispersing crowd, lacing their fingers together, sweet and intimate, out of the hall and then down another one, and through a smaller corridor. Bringing them up to a little door, with a shake of her wrist, she pulls out her Estruscan keyring bracelet. About several of the keys have found themselves used in various misadventures, vanishing once their purpose is fulfilled, but her favorite key is still there. And, just like a clever child of Hermes, it can pick just about any lock.

Inside is just an empty room, a little staging area surrounded by tiered desks going up, no more or less remarkable than any of the other conference rooms they’d visited before.

“What--?” His question is cut off by Annabeth’s mouth on his.

Surprising, but definitely not unwelcome.

It's a while before they separate again. “You’re so good at this,” she tells him, unbuttoning his shirt.

He runs his hands along the lines of her flanks. “I’ve had a lot of practice,” he grins. He’d practice kissing her all day long if he could.

She smiles, shaking her head. “No, not this,” though she does lean in for another kiss, pulling at his lower lip with her teeth. “I know you’re good at this.” They break away, Percy pulling her shirt over her head, Annabeth shucking off his. “But history. Presenting.” She runs a finger over his chest, kissing his cheek, headed towards the sensitive spot on his jaw. “Gods, you’re so smart.”

Something about the praise vibrates through his chest. She doesn’t sound surprised, or anything, just--turned on.

“You had all those crusty academics eating out of your hand. Just, so impressed by you, knowing you know way more than they do about naval history. When you were explaining the--” Her compliment is cut off with a moan, as he leans down and starts sucking on her throat. Her blouse has a high neck, so he feels no guilt for using his teeth.

“Watching you today, gods.” Her breath is labored as his fingers play at the waistline of her skirt. “And then thinking of you defending your dissertation.” He bites at her jugular, and she lets out a long, deep moan.

“I don’t know what that means.” Do academics fight each other? Like, with weapons? He’s pretty sure he can take most of the people he met today.

“It means you get to show off how smart you are,” Annabeth says, grasping his shoulders, pulling him in for another kiss. “I was born the day my dad defended his. Gods, it's going to be amazing to watch you go.” She yanks his belt out of his pants, tossing it to the floor.

They miss the panel on recent translation efforts. But Percy can’t say he minds one bit.

And when Annabeth presents him with a positive pregnancy test two months later, Percy definitely knows he made the right decision.

He almost doesn’t realize he’s having a dream-vision at first.

It has been literal years since he’s had a demigod dream. Hell, it’s been a long while since he’s had a dream, period--being a new dad to a one-and-a-half-year-old saps too much of his energy to even think about dreaming. Once Junie is put to bed, when he’s out, he is fucking out, and he does not have the brainpower to spare to manifest any messed up subconscious fears.

Which is why when he blinks open his eyes, taking in the too-bright colors of the Parthenon and the gleaming shine of the bronze statues which are somehow all looking at him--also, you know, how the Parthenon is complete, standing as it did thousands of years ago, and not crumbled into ruins--he knows, immediately, he is being contacted by a god.

And only one god in particular would bring him to Athens.

Without even checking, he heaves himself up off the ground, folding into a kneel. “My lady Athena,” he says, “can I ask for what quest you’ve brought me here?”

“Impertinent as ever, Percy Jackson,” rumbles the goddess, but Percy doesn’t think he can sense any ill will towards him. He hopes, anyway. “Perhaps I have summoned you here for a social visit.”

“Perhaps,” he says, choosing his next words as carefully as possible. “But I assume you have too much to worry about to randomly check up on your daughter’s boyfriend.”

He lifts his head, catching her expression--stoic as always, but maybe with just the barest hint of a smile. “You assume correctly. You have become, contrary to my initial expectations, very wise in the time that I have known you.”

“Thank you.” He knows better than to do anything but accept the compliment for what it is.

“I have observed your work as a scholar in recent years, and I must say that I am surprised, yet pleased, that you have chosen to pursue such a path. I had not thought you to be suited for a world of old men and dusty papers.”

He grits his teeth. Don’t rise to the bait, don’t rise to the bait, don’t rise to the bait--

“I understand, as well, that though you and my daughter have,” and here her careful composition cracks, just the slightest, the tiny lift of her lips falling, “made a child together.”

Percy swallows. He figured, you know, in the abstract, that Athena would know about Junie, but hearing her say it out loud is… well, he’s just glad that Dr. Chase has always liked him. “Yes, my lady.”

“It is customary in your time to marry prior to childbirth, is it not?”

“It is.” Oh, fuck, is she going to smite him for that? “I--that is to say, we, Annabeth and I, we, um, we definitely want to get married, but, Annabeth kind of…”

He trails off. He can’t tell Athena, goddess of war, that his daughter pissed off the queen of heaven! And if he does, he definitely can’t imply that it was because she was being too stubborn!

“I know well of my daughter’s history with my father’s wife,” Athena says, smoothly. “I come to you now with an offer of peace.”

Percy straightens his back. Peace?

Raising one graceful arm, Athena turns, indicating the structure behind her. “Look upon my temple,” she intones. The white marble shines even more powerfully against the blue and red paint, intricate scenes and figures ringing the top of the columns. “In the time of Pericles, it was built to commemorate the victory of Hellas over the armies of Xerxes the Great. It was to be the shining beacon of our world, a triumph of our power and influence over the race of men.”

The race of men might have had something to say about that, he thinks to himself.

“But it was not to be,” Athena says, mournfully. “As our influence waned, so too did our temple, until its might was all but forgotten.”

Before his eyes, the paint fades away, ceilings and columns collapsing, the destruction of the Parthenon playing out in front of him.

“Some two hundred years ago,” she says, her voice taking on a darker, more dangerous tone, “a grave insult was paid to the ruins of my ancient sanctuary.” Like curtains falling on a stage, darkness swallowed up the structure, swift and impenetrable. “Many treasures were taken from my temple, stolen, by foolish, greedy men, spirited away far to the north, where they have languished in unworthy hands.”

He narrows his eyes. She can’t possibly be talking about--

Athena turns back to him, her eyes blazing, somehow twice as tall. “Retrieve my treasures,” she commands, war personified, “return the prizes of Athens to their rightful place, and I shall give you my support against my father’s wife.”

“You…” Percy leans back on his haunches, staring dumbfounded up at the goddess. “You don’t happen to mean the Parthenon Marbles, do you?”

“Yes.”

“The ones in the British Museum.”

“The same,” she says, imperious as ever.

Fantastic. “Welp,” Percy says, slapping his thighs, scrambling up. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll have to decline. Nice seeing you, by the way. I’ll tell Annabeth you stopped by.”

Her sharp gazes pierces him, full of fury. “You dare to refuse my support?”

He snorts. “When it means trying to get the UK to give the marbles back, absolutely. Do you know how stubborn they are about this?”

Lightning flashes behind her, nearly blinding him. “You will regret this,” Athena says, dark and foreboding. “You may have your father’s goodwill, but the queen of Olympus is clever and cunning, her displeasure swift and merciless.”

But Percy still shakes his head. “When Annabeth and I get married,” and it’s definitely a ‘when,’ it’s just a matter of when precisely, like after Junie can sleep through the night maybe, “I’d rather take my chances with Hera than try and untangle that particular can of olives.”

A growl, and a snap of her fingers, and Athena disappears.

With a start, Percy wakes up. Junie had gotten her chubby little hands around his nose, and had decided to pull.

“Ow, ow, Junie, hey,” he squawks, attempting to dislodge her grip from his face. “Hey, I’m awake, it’s okay.”

She laughs, illegally adorable, her grey eyes sparkling, squeezing harder.

“Okay, okay,” he laughs along with her. “You got my nose, you win.”

As if she were waiting for him to admit defeat, she lets go, clapping her pudgy toddler hands together.

“That’s right,” he picks her up, raising her above his head. “Barely sixteen months old and you already know how to take me down, don’t you? Just like your mommy.”

She smiles, waving her little fists.

Gods he loves this little monster.

Junie really is the best parts of both of them. She’s got her daddy’s hair but her mommy’s brain, quick and sharp and painfully adorable. She’s already learning to read Greek, Annabeth sitting her in her lap and sounding out vowels together, Annabeth taking her finger and tracing it over the letter shapes. This kid absorbs information like a sponge, which Percy can only assume is the natural conclusion of taking a son of Poseidon and a daughter of Athena and mixing their DNA together.

Thinking about his dream, he frowns. “What do you think, Junie,” he asks his toddler. “Should I take her up on her offer?”

The baby says nothing.

“I mean,” he tilts his head, “Greece has been trying to get the marbles back for two hundred years. UNESCO has top lawyers on this. What does Athena think I can do?”

Junie blinks at him.

“On the other hand, I do really love your mom,” he admits, “and I really want to marry her. You’d like that, right? To have your parents be married?”

There’s no way she can understand what he’s saying, but she moves her head like she’s nodding. Or maybe she does understand. She is Annabeth’s daughter after all.

Percy sighs. Dammit.

Time for a new project, he guesses.

***

Several months, a college graduation, and one relocation to Boston later, Percy growls, hurling his pencil at the wall. Mother fucker. Fuck the British Museum, fuck his tiny laptop screen, and fuck the Italian prick who decided to have the least ADHD-friendly handwriting of all time.

Why the hell is he doing this again? Like, seriously. Why in all of Hades is he, an inexperienced, snot-nosed, first year master’s student deciding to tackle the return of the fucking Parthenon marbles of all things. Like, what is wrong with him?

Roughly scrubbing his fingers through his hair, Percy stands up. He has to go for a walk, clear his head, or he might actually explode.

Then he catches a glimpse of the photo pinned to the fridge.

Percy’s mom had taken it, a candid of Percy and Annabeth and Junie on a sunny day in Central Park. There, in perfect 1080p, Junie is laughing, at what he can’t even remember, her pudgy fists yanking on Percy’s hair, while her mother and the love of his life does nothing to extricate Percy from her grip, her face screwed up so hard she had tears in her eyes.

Percy had talked a lot of shit to the goddess of war’s face, but truth be told… Hera still terrifies him a little. Which, he assumes, was her goal all along, but it would be nice to marry Annabeth without fear of something going terribly wrong--or, gods forbid, something happening to Junie. That simply was not a risk he was willing to take. Percy is content to spend the rest of his days as Annabeth’s life-partner and roommate, if it means that the queen of the heavens won’t have a reason to take out her issues on his children.

Even if the engagement ring in the back of the pantry is gathering dust.

Sunlight, wan but warm, falls in from the window, landing perfectly on his pile of open books. “I know, I know,” he growls, speaking to the air, rubbing his face so it doesn’t get stuck in a permanent glare. “I just--I just need a few minutes, okay? Let me go down the block and get a coffee or something. Two minutes, Lady Athena.”

The light fades. Percy takes that as an acquiescence, angrily scribbling a note. He’s not sure when Annabeth and Junie will be back, but even angry as he is, he doesn’t want to worry them.

Snatching up his jacket, he slams the door shut, stomping out of his apartment building and down the streets of Boston. He must be accidentally doing his wolf stare, because people are practically flinging themselves out of his path as he hurtles down the sidewalk. Literally--some girl is walking her husky, and the poor dog actually whimpers, cowering as Percy rounds the corner.

Coming to a stop, Percy slaps his hands over his face, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath.

He might be in over his head a little.

Sighing, he looks to his right. He’s standing outside of a Starbucks.

Percy doesn’t drink coffee, Annabeth does. And he knows exactly how much of a coffee snob his girlfriend is. Starbucks? Overpriced, overrated, over-sweetened garbage.

He pushes the door open, sliding up to the counter. “I’ll take a… iced mocha, I guess,” he says. “Large.”

“No problem,” chirps the barista. “I’ll have that out for you in a minute.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

One thing Starbucks does have going for it, though, are really good napkins for doodling.

Slumping down in his uncomfortable metal chair, elbows resting on the hard, faux-wood table, Percy takes out his pen, and doodles aimlessly on the brown napkins. No, not that pen. Just because it can write doesn’t mean that Percy wants to risk slicing his face open every time he has a stray idea. Completely out of the blue, Annabeth had gotten him a nice set of pens, and ever since then, Percy always keeps one on him. Now, if he could just remember to use the little notebook she had gotten him, too.

Percy is not an artist by any stretch of the imagination. He doesn’t have an image in mind, just lets his pen move, drawing endless chains of triangles and stars, nebulous shapes which form themselves into Greek letters. After he catches himself writing γλαυκῶπις for the eighth time in a row, he sighs, dropping his pen, and picks up the cup, taking a sip.

Yuck. At least the chocolate outweighs the coffee taste a little.

Gods, and their cups are always, like, drenched from condensation--not that Percy can feel it, but there’s practically a whole other drink on the outside of the plastic, dripping all over Percy’s pile of doodle napkins. That must be why they give out so many.

Grumbling, he mops up the mess, ink smudged into a blue-brown slurry.

He stops.

He squints at one of his doodles.

Not that anyone else could tell, but Percy had apparently been trying to recreate the signature of Ottoman sultan Selim III, the guy who had supposedly authorized the Earl of Elgin to take the Parthenon Marbles. Percy had been staring at copies of his signature all damn day, trying to tell if it had been forged or copied, but classical Arabic was just so far beyond anything he could even begin to wrap his head around. It was gorgeous work, but even looking at it made Percy’s eyes swim.

This particular doodle is not his best attempt. It looks nothing like the signature. It’s smudged, blotchy, but in a way that’s… weirdly familiar.

Snatching the napkin up, Percy bolts from the Starbucks, leaving his mocha behind.

Taking the steps of his apartment building two at a time, he bursts into his kitchen. His set up is exactly how he left it, books spread out all over the table, laptop shut and laid askew, the dry, half-eaten remains of his morning muffin on a plate on top of his encyclopedia of illuminated manuscripts--except for one book, the one on Ottoman history of the nineteenth century. It’s been opened, its pages facing the door, in the exact opposite direction of all the other books.

“Hello?” he calls into the apartment. “Anyone home?”

No response.

Percy approaches the table.

From the pages, Selim III stares at him, his portrait rendered in black and white, sitting just above a figure of his signature, his tughra.

Percy picks up the book, squinting.

The signature is crisp, clean, a work of art all by itself.

He looks at his napkin drawing. Blurry and smudged.

Opening his laptop, he pulls up the scans of the documents in the British museum, zooms in on the letter’s seal.

Blurry and smudged.

Percy stares.

It… can’t be that simple, can it?

In a daze, he fires an email off to his new grad advisor. Hopefully he won’t mind Percy sticking his nose in where he doesn’t belong. Hey Dr. T--was looking at the Parthenon marbles docs in the BM (don’t ask) and I noticed this weird smudge on the tughra. Lazy scribe, maybe?

And he closes his computer.

Later that night, while he puts Junie to bed, he gets a response. not sure. sent it to a colleague for a closer look.

He can’t even be bothered to really think about it though, not with Junie looking up at him with Annabeth’s eyes, and asking for another book. “Alright, kiddo,” he acquiesces, settling in beside her. All her story books are in ancient Greek, and at age two, she’s starting to recognize the letters. “Which one are you thinking?”

“Daw-fins, daddy,” she says, smiling.

“Dolphins, eh? Getting Mr. D on your side early, I see. As smart as mommy.” He leans down and kisses her forehead before he starts to read her the story of the sailors and their sudden dolphin madness.

***

“Huh,” Percy says to himself a few weeks later, as he and Annabeth are chilling on the couch, watching some Netflix.

His advisor has forwarded him an article from the BBC (New evidence suggests Elgin documents to be forgeries) with an accompanying note: Amazing catch!

“What is it?” Annabeth asks, nudging him with her elbow--a feat, since she also has an armful of a squirmy Junie to deal with.

“Update in the Parthenon marbles thing.”

That gets her attention. Anything Parthenon-related does. “Really?”

He shows her his phone.

Her eyes go wide as saucers. “Damn.”

“Yep.” He doesn’t realize he’s smiling until he feels his lips pulling at the sides of his mouth.

“My mom is probably your biggest fan right now.”

He starts. “What did you say?”

Turning back to the TV, she still manages to cast him a weird look. “I said, my mom will probably love you for this.”

A beat, then Percy practically somersaults over the couch, darting into the kitchen. Wrenching open the pantry door, he shoves his hand behind their collection of flours, fingers grasping for--

“If you’re looking for any more sacrificial cookies,” Annabeth calls after him, “we burned them all when Junie got a cold.”

“Remind me to make some more,” says Percy, pulling out his prize. It’s a little dusty, streaks of flour clinging to the blue velvet. “I have a feeling we’ll need them.”

“Oh yeah?” She chuckles. “What, did Olympus put in a special order?”

Percy slides back down next to her, ring hidden in his closed fist. “Can I have the baby for a sec?”

Eyes fixed to the screen, Annabeth passes her over. Junie’s hands automatically reach for his nose, ready to grab, but Percy places the ring in her grasp instead, kissing her forehead. “Hey, babe?” he asks Annabeth, handing her back. “I think our daughter has something for you.”

Annabeth takes her without a second glance.

Then she does take a second glance.

Ring closed in her pudgy toddler fist, Junie holds it out to her.

Annabeth gapes.

“So,” Percy says, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, “quick confession: I wasn’t just working on the marbles for fun.”

Annabeth just stares. Junie babbles.

“Your mom told me that if I helped get the marbles back, she’d back us against Hera if we ever got married. So…” He trails off, waiting for her response. As close as he is, he can see the tears start to well up in her eyes--a good sign. “Shall we?” he prompts.

“Oh thank all the gods.” Annabeth is crying, because she's Annabeth. And because she's Annabeth, she also wastes no time in transferring Junie to her other side, and holding out her hand so Percy can slide the ring on her finger. “I was so worried I'd have to have Chase on my Masters’ diploma, too.”

Percy is making sauce when his phone lights up. He hits speaker. “Hey.”

“Hey man,” comes the tinny voice of Magnus. “Sorry I missed your call earlier.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Percy says, “I figured you were dying or something.”

Magnus’ eye roll is almost palpable. “Very funny. What’s up?”

Bringing the spoon to his lips, he blows on it, taking a taste, before reaching for the salt. Needs way more. “Do you happen to have any Varangian guards in Hotel Valhalla?”

“Varangian guards? Uh, maybe. Probably. Why?”

“I’m doing a thing on the attempted reconquest of Sicily,” he says, lowering the heat a little to a simmer, “and I’m having some trouble piecing together the Battle of Montemaggiore. Know anyone who was in it?”

Magnus hums. “I’ll ask around. Anyone in particular you’re looking for?”

Rifling through their little spice cabinet, he makes a mental note to get a new thing of hot sauce, tipping the rest of it into the pot. “If you have anyone who fought under Harald Hardrada, that would be great.”

“Hardrada? I’m pretty sure he lives on the fifth floor.”

Percy nearly drops the bottle. “No shit?”

“Big dude, long mustache, writes poetry?”

“Yes!” He picks up the phone, grinning from ear to ear. “Do you think I could come up and talk to him sometime?”

“Sure, but I thought you were doing something on Homer’s identity?”

He groans. “Backburnered for now until she stops driving me crazy.” No matter how many times Percy tells her, he can’t just drop the “Homer was actually an Egyptian woman” bomb without some serious evidence backing that up. And forgery is not one of his strong suits. Hence the need for a different topic for the time being.

“Has everyone ever told you your life is weird?”

“No, why do you ask?”

His phone suddenly vibrates, shocking him so badly he nearly drops it into the saucepan. Almost home, texts the love of his life, a shot of serotonin directly into his bloodstream. V hungry

“Sorry, Magnus, but I gotta run. Thanks for your help.”

“No problem. Say hi to my cousin for me.”

“Can do.”

“And make sure you pick a date soon! Sam needs to know so she can schedule her flight home.”

“Soon as I can.” You know, when his brain isn’t melting from grading undergrad papers. And making sure Annabeth and Junie are fed. And that Annabeth doesn’t lose herself in graduate school. And finding Junie a new preschool after she destroyed a classroom last month because of a monster. His toddler is a badass. But he’s a little worried she’s gonna follow Mommy and Daddy’s example as far as school goes.

Sometimes, he thinks that their wedding just won’t ever happen. With Athena on board, he figured it would happen sooner or later, but time just… keeps getting away from them. Which isn’t the end of the world. A lifetime at Annabeth’s side is all he really needs, Mrs. Jackson or no. But he’s seen the silver fabric she weaved for her wedding dress. It would be a shame for all that hard work to go to waste.

And, yeah, he wants to see his little Junie dancing down the aisle flinging seaweed before her mother. He wants his mom to cry a little and he wants all his friends to be there to celebrate with them. Is that so much to ask?

Speaking of his two favorite girls--”We’re home!” Annabeth calls from the hallway. “Junie, go say hi to daddy!”

Her bare feet slapping against the floor, his daughter comes toddling in, making a beeline for him. “Hey, kiddo,” Percy says, scooping her up. “How’s my best girl?”

“She’s just fine, thanks,” Annabeth says, setting her work bag down on the table. “Tell me I don’t have to wait for dinner--Margie kept me for the entirety of my lunch break, and I am starving.”

“Just gotta make a salad and we should be good to go.” But he makes no move to finish chopping vegetables, entirely too enraptured with the way Junie smiles when Percy sticks his tongue out at her. “Let me guess,” he says. “Does my best girl want some olives?”

“Peas,” Junie says.

“Oh, you want peas instead?”

She giggles, waving her arms. “Elaia, daddy!”

“Fine,” and he kisses her nose. “Extra olives for you.”

“Chip off the old block,” Annabeth says.

Handing her back to her mother, Percy sighs. “When am I going to get a kid who likes anchovies?”

“I’m doing my best here, okay?”

***

Hardrada is… not what he expected.

“Reputation isn’t that bad.” Hardrada is saying. “The production isn’t what it should be, but lots of her lyrics are still on point.”

“The production ruins it,” Percy insists. “And as a follow up to 1989? It's just bad.”

“And what about Lover?”

“What about Lover?”

“You can’t argue with the genius of that one.”

“It is terribly inconsistent,” Percy shoots back. “Yeah, ‘The Archer’ and ‘Daylight’ and ‘Miss Americana’ are sublime, but ‘ME!’? Come on!”

“Are you one of those people who thinks she peaked at Red?”

“Red is a bop from start to finish,” Percy fires back. “But she definitely peaked at folklore.”

“Thinking she peaked at folklore is just pedestrian when ‘tis the damn season’ exists!” Hardrada yells, drawing his axe, which is then promptly flung over Percy’s head.

As the only mortal in a room full of armed, excitable, undead Taylor Swift stans, Percy beats a hasty exit, Magnus and Jason covering him as he flees, because they’re just so thoughtful like that. Percy’s pretty sure he saw Magnus take an arrow to the knee, going down in a heap, before he shuts the door to the hotel, finding himself in a Forever 21.

Looking over his notes later as he gets back to his apartment in the North End, he frowns. They had spent… approximately twenty minutes talking about Sicily before getting solidly off track. Who knew an eleventh century viking would have such intense feelings about pop music?

And now he’s singing “seven” to himself as he unlocks the apartment door, because it's a good song, and because it made him think of Annabeth. And he always wants to think of Annabeth.

“Hey, babe,” he calls into the apartment, toeing off his shoes. “I’m back!”

He gets no response.

Percy looks up, confused. “Annabeth?”

“In the bathroom,” he hears, faintly.

“Everything okay?”

“Yep! Totally fine!” she says, unconvincingly.

“Alright,” he calls back. “Let me know if you need something.”

Moving Junie’s toys out of the way, he drops down onto the couch, grabbing his laptop. Hopefully he can make some sort of sense of the… notes… that he got from Hardrada. Though he’s probably going to have to trek out to Beacon Hill again, which, while not really out of his way, does mean he has to hike a bit from the Park Street station through the Commons, which makes him super sweaty and out of breath. It’s just embarrassing, walking into a hotel full of the greatest warriors of Valhalla, and Percy can barely handle a hill.

However, he’s not so out of practice that he can’t sense Annabeth coming up behind him. “You good?”

“What do you think about getting married by the end of the month?”

“Sure,” he says, pecking at his computer. Damn autocorrect ruining all the Norse names. He keeps forgetting to download the right language package he needs. “But I thought you wanted to wait until after you turned in your portfolio?”

“Well… I might not be able to fit in my dress if we wait much longer.”

That gets his attention.

Percy turns around, slowly. Annabeth is grinning, holding a thin little piece of plastic with a circle on the end. She wiggles it.

“Is that…?”

“Yep.”

“Oh.”

Her smile falls. “Are you mad?”

“What? No!” Percy slides his computer off his lap, twisting around to face her, up on his knees. “No, no, not at all. I’m not mad.” She slings her arms around his neck, pregnancy test warm against his skin. “I just…”

Eyes warm, she looks into his, unafraid. “What is it?”

“It’s…” It’s silly, is what it is. But this is Annabeth. If he can’t tell her, who can he tell? “I just feel bad that I’ve gotten you pregnant twice before getting married.”

“Well, at least I’m not nineteen this time,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “But maybe we wouldn’t have this problem if you weren’t such a horndog.”

Percy snorts. “Me? What about you, Annabeth ‘3 AM anal before my first lecture’ Chase.”

“Jackson,” she corrects.

“Huh?”

“It’s Annabeth ‘3 AM anal before your first lecture’ Jackson.”

Grinning, he presses his mouth to hers. After all this time, she still smells like lemons, her lips soft and warm. “Not yet it’s not.”

“Then let’s make it happen.”

And, well, Percy can’t think of a better plan.

Jamie hisses. “Fuuuuuck,” she whispers, the sound dropping like a stone in the dead lecture hall. “Goddamn shit fuck ass.”

And the worst part is, she’d actually spent a lot of time preparing for her Latin midterm. She’d made flashcards, she’d drilled noun endings, she’d even slept with the textbook under her pillow for fuck’s sake.

Typical--the moment she sits down to take the test, it all goes out the window.

“Legistne carmen longum de Troiano,” she reads under her breath, as though saying it out loud will unlock some hidden secrets of the cosmos.

Nope. Nothing. The multiple choices remain as inscrutable as ever.

“Psst.”

Jamie looks up.

There’s a four year old staring at her.

“Hi,” Jamie says.

“Hi,” says the four year old. Junie, her name is, she thinks.

Mr. Jackson, Jamie’s Latin TA, will bring his kids to class with him sometimes--his wife works full time, and Jamie guesses that they can’t afford a babysitter. She’s a cute kid, quiet, usually sitting in the corner of the lecture hall, drawing or even knitting, sometimes with her little sister playing with toy ships next to her.

Now, she’s still staring at her. “What’s up?” Jamie asks.

“Bello,” says Junie.

Jamie blinks. “Sorry?”

“Legistne carmen longum de bello Troiano.”

She squints down at her test sheet, attempting to visualize her flash cards. That’s… “Bello” is the right answer.

The fuck? The fucking four year old can speak Latin? “Thanks,” she whispers.

Junie beams at her.

Darting her eyes to the front of the lecture hall, Jamie spies her professor, Buck, completely conked out at his desk, his chest rising and falling with his snores. Percy is nowhere to be seen, his laptop open at his chair. “What’s the next one?” Jamie turns her paper so that Junie can see better.

“Pluto Proserpinam infelicem cepit,” she announces, perfectly accented.

Jamie points to the one after that.

“Rex qui pontem fecit erat Ancus Martius.”

“Awesome.”

The door to the lecture hall opens. Jamie whips around in her seat, startled, and sees her TA, walking down the steps. From the corner of her eye, Junie disappears, booking it to her dad, who scoops her up without missing a beat. “Hey kiddo,” he murmurs, smiling crookedly. “Were you bothering my students?” Then he glances at Jamie. “Sorry about that--hope she wasn’t too annoying.”

But Jamie shakes her head. “It’s fine.” Dammit.

Still smiling, Percy makes his way back down to his seat. Junie grins at her over his shoulder, her arms wrapped tightly around her dad’s neck.

At the beginning of the semester, Professor Buck had droned on and on about Mr. Jackson, about how he was one of the best up-and-coming classics scholars in the world, how he could have had his pick of PhD programs, and how NYU was lucky to have him. He got first pick of assistantships this semester, apparently, but had volunteered to teach Latin 1001, and they should all be grateful, because he had done some beautiful new translation of Virgil for his Master’s thesis, and they were all going to learn a lot from him.

Turning back to her exam, Jamie snorts. Of course a guy like that would have a kid who could speak perfect Latin.

She really should have just stuck with German instead.

#my fic #pjo #percabeth #the rivalry ends here #perseannabeth #darkmagyk #percy should be a classics major and here's why #the percy major for the stem hating author #also i feel like i have to say:#1) classics conferences are not like that #2) if only it were that easy to get the bm to return looted antiquities 🙄#pjo fic #percabeth fic #percy jackson

732 notes · View notes

harfanfare · 4 years ago

Note

I saw this post and I was wondering if you write Malleus' too, is okay for you to make that?

How to win a heart of Malleus Draconia?

a/n: I started posting my writings here because I want to improve my English — so I technically wouldn't make this request. But! Someone on Wattpad (where I take requests) asked for the same thing, so I rolled up my sleeves and wrote this guide today in both languages. Enjoy~

1. Don't be afraid of him.

It is said that the first impression is the most important.

So when you first saw this guy walking through the corridor of Diasomnia, it was hard for you to get rid of that view from your head.

Illuminated both by the green magic flames set in the lobby, as well as by the moon, which eventually managed to break through the dark clouds and with a bright glow appear in the windows of the dormitory, he seemed... lonely and beautiful.

You shuddered as you took a step down the hallway and the dark-haired man turned to you. He measured you with his emerald eyes. And then you recognized him; all the conversations about the mysterious and fearsome Malleus Draconia flew through your head.

Everything told you to rush towards the hallway and run as far as possible, but a piece of you found it inappropriate. Or rather, no one would want to chase everyone away from themself... right?

When you realized you were looking at him for a while, you took a deep breath and nod slightly.

"Good evening, Draconia-san," you said quickly. After a while you added, "The moon is beautiful today, don't you think?”

2. Smile a lot.

Today was a really wonderful day: the test was postponed, your favorite dish was given in the canteen, and for some reason, the last two lessons were canceled – your class had to make just a quick note about a topic and it took less than fifteen minutes.

"Something happened?" Malleus asked, seeing how almost in the jumps you walk past him. When you looked at him, he added, "You smile a lot.”

"I can stop smiling if you want," you made a sad face, but after a while, the corners of your mouth began to tremble uncontrollably and twisted up again. "Oops, I can’t. Today... it was such a good day... that I think I'm slowly using my life's happiness.”

"I didn't say that smiling is bad," he said. "You look so much better when you smile.”

"Oh," you sighed with apparent surprise. "Is it a compliment?"

"It’s rather a fact..?"

3. From time to time visit him during club activities.

"Is this a class of the ‘Gargoyle research society club’?” with a deaf knock you opened the door. Malleus turned to you, making a break from browsing through the materials gathered in the library about the history of each of the gargoyles on the school grounds. And there were a lot of them.

"Yes," he replied briefly, getting up. "Do you need something, [Name]?"

"Not at all, my club don’t have a meeting today," you said, closing the door behind you.

You looked around: the room was as clean as ever, except for one desk, where were laid several huge volumes about statues in NRC.

“Are you here alone?” You said before you thought. You lowered your eyes to see Malleus nodding unconcerned slightly. You blinked several times trying to think of what else you could say. "This room... could be a secret base," that was the first thing that came to your mind. Malleus turned his head to one side, uncertain of your response.

“A secret base..? Why?”

"I have no idea," you admitted quickly. "But the very existence of a mysterious point is interesting, isn't it? Doing normal things, such as watching movies or just talking, seems more interesting in places like this,” After a moment of silence, you sighed. "You know what, this idea with the base is stupid”

"We can try," he replied with serious tone. You raised your eyes to see how he looked around the room. "But you'll just have to explain this idea to me in more detail. We can also tell Lilia, Silver and Sebek about it...” he smiled as if seeing your five together in his thoughts was a pleasure. "It will be surely... fun.”

4. Get yourself a Tamagotchi.

"Look!" you spin a new key chain on your finger. You finally stopped and showed it to Malleus. "Now they are matching!”

A small electronic toy, in a dark green screen that, when it flashed, showed a virtual, pixelated animal. You were impressed with how good quality it was made, especially since you only gave the Shroud brothers a sketch of a toy that Malleus owned.

Your keychain was exactly the same, just a different color and with another pet.

Malleus pulled out his own device and put it on the table. He pressed one of the buttons and a small pet appeared on the keychain – a dragon.

"They can now be friends," you brought your toy closer to so-called Gao-Gao Dragon-kun.

"Do you think so?" He asked in a very surprised tone, but it sounded as if in a moment he were about to burst out with an inexplicably joyful and surprised laugh.

"Of course. Everyone needs a decent friend, no?”

5. Gain the trust of Lilia, Silver and Sebek.

Lilia, one of Malleus' closest people. It is much more likely that you will meet him before Malleus. He will be very proud when he learns that Malleus has found a friend. If you become a taster of Lilia, in terms of his pastries, he will 100% like you, and at 20% you will leave the kitchen alive and well.

Silver, who has mastered the art of sleeping in any conditions. It's easy to get him into your plans, although with the craziest ones he will hesitate. Rather well-disposed towards everyone, he can cover for you when you are not in class— but he usually inadvertently falls asleep and both of you often have penal assignments after school.

Sebek, faithful to Malleus, if he doesn't like you, you won't have too many opportunities to stay by Malleus's side without a thunderous glances at you. He will recognize you if you will listen carefully to his monologues about his master and as a sign of your friendship, he will teach you by heart of all the titles and achievements of Malleus so far.

With this trio by your side, you can get a lot further than you might have imagined...

6. Be a master in hide and seek.

You’d give your right arm that your breath was too loud.

You pressed your hands to your mouth as you crouched in the corner of the room.

From whose voices you already heard, you knew that Lilia had already found Sebek. This meant that you or Silver would still be helping cook dinner since Malleus didn’t come at the start of the game.

This may seem silly, but the ability to play classic games was one of the elements of the art of survival in Diasomnia.

It was thanks to games like ‘stone-paper-scissors’, hide and seek or tag that household chores fell on the shoulders of the losers. Lilia loved the idea, and there was always a proud smile on his lips when he saw his beloved children play together.

You heard the steps behind you and shivered.

Very slowly you turned around and looked up to see Malleus standing over you and wondering what you were doing, crouching in the darkest corner of the room.

Puns were also included in the survival pack.

Fearing that Lilia would hear your whisper, you put your finger on your mouth, asking him not to say a word. You put a begging eye into it – all but not cooking with Lilia. Not again.

Malleus nodded, recognizing the gravity of the situation, although he smiled.

Really, no one would want Malleus to be an enemy.

Or at least in such a situation.

7. Do not hesitate to ask him for help with learning.

"In theory, you should focus on the space around you," Malleus pulled a wand in front of him. It flashed, and almost at the same time, a thin but incredibly strong protective barrier was created around him. “Weaker spells can be reflected. In turn, the stronger ones are better to block”

You nodded understandingly.

Defensive magic was not something easy to understand. Most depended on the person against whom the counter spell was being prepared. And there are countless people who walk on this Earth and want to start fights.

"Unique spells block or avoid physically," he continued. You nodded at every subsequent sentence, slowly feeling like all the lessons are eventually gaining transparency. “Using unique magic against unique magic, the stronger will win, both will lead to explosions or completely reduce.

He looked at you when you wrote down the last sentence in your notebook.

"I sincerely hope that you will only need this information in class," he said with a sigh. "If you need help, call me. I will come. I promise.”

8. Sometimes be persuaded to wear extravagant clothes.

"Do you really think it suits me?" you turned around, looking at yourself from every possible angle in the mirror.

You were going to the theater in a few classes to see some era-related play that you've been discussing now in history lessons. Everyone, respecting the reputation, actions and achievements of theatre, dressed in their best clothes.

Malleus stood next to you.

He was already wearing a black and white outfit with green accessories. They all worked so well together and fitted him like a glove that you were sure that the whole outfit was made especially for him.

"Yes," he replied. "Everything you put on today suited you very well.”

Once again, with critical eyesight, you looked at the outfit, face and hair, before you quickly turned off the lights in the room and closed the door behind you.

Then you smiled at Malleus.

"We can go now," you said. You made your way through the portal to the main NRC building. "And... thank you for your help.

"My pleasure," he said. Under no circumstances was it just a polite formula. He really loved looking at you.

9. Invite him to your birthday/party.

"Another break from school soon, huh?" — you muttered, leaning against the railing.

You took a deep breath and let the fresh, pleasant air refresh you.

"Are you going to home, [Name]?" Malleus asked. Green lights were still flying around him, so you guessed he’d just appeared here.

"I haven't decided yet," you sighed. "It would be nice to go home, but the break won't be very long... Ah, that's right!” you straightened up and turned to him. "How about spending another break together? As soon as I can, I will contact my family... although I cannot promise anything.”

Though he did not show it, Malleus' heart beat a little faster.

Spend free time? With someone? With someone he likes?

"Of course," he sounded less calm than he thought. He wasn’t often invited anywhere, even for the things he should have been on, so there was a lot of excitement growing in his body. "I don't see anything against it.”

10. From "The Great Malleus Draconia-sama" to "Love".

"Ah, The Great Malleus-sama!" you sighed theatrically, taking from him a box of chocolates with a joyful smile. You could promise that because of this dark-haired boy here, you slowly become pampered. "Thank you for your generosity!”

Malleus frowned.

"The Great Malleus-sama"..?” he pondered, putting his fingers to his chin. "Did Sebek told you again to call me with this title?"

"No," you laughed softly at his reaction. "I did it out of curiosity. Maybe I could call you some cute nickname, hmm?" you smiled mischievously.

"For example?"

"By adding ‘-chan’ to your name?” you turned on your phone and typed something related to the nicknames. You started reading suggestions and struggled to hold back from laughing. ” ’Sunshine’, ‘star’, ‘flower’, ‘sweetheart’, ‘love’...

"I like the last one," he said, and the invisible force stung you to the ground.

"Would you like me to call you like that? Out of curiosity or out of love?" You laughed, but your cheeks were all red with blushes.

He smiled sincerely at your reaction.

"Hmm, I wonder..?"

#i wonder too #malleus draconia #twst malleus draconia #twst malleus #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst malleus x reader #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x reader #diasomnia x reader #twst malleus draconia x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #anonymous

811 notes · View notes

theladyofdeath · 4 years ago

Text

Tempting the Fates {Chapter 4}

Summary: It’s the final semester of Aelin Galathynius’ collegiate career and she is so beyond ready to be done. Her schedule is packed full of nursing classes and labs designed to test her knowledge and hone her skills for the real world and her “big girl” job. However, she needs one last elective to graduate, so she decides to study a subject she’s always been fascinated by: Mythology. Who would have thought that a class about gods and goddesses living complicated lives would end up complicating her own in such an unexpected way?

Word Count: 2550

Chapters will be posted every Wednesday.

Tempting the Fates Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Apollo

– God of light, prophecy, inspiration, poetry, the sun, music and arts, medicine and healing

Aelin tried to convince herself that she got up and got ready two hours early for class because of her busy schedule. She kept telling herself it was for the meeting she had with her advisor, about a possible internship at the end of the semester.

She knew that both reasons, while extremely important, were full of shit. She knew she’d showered, blow dried and curled her hair for Rowan. It wasn’t that she was trying to impress him. She’d already done that and the chance she had to be with him had come and gone.

No, now it was about proving to him that even though this class may be a gen ed, she was taking it seriously.

Dropping the class had crossed her mind. She really didn’t need to take it, she could still find a different one to pick up. But she didn’t want to think about the sort of impression it would leave about her.

If there was anything to know about Aelin Galathynius, it was that she was not a quitter, nor did she run from her problems.

Or heartaches.

With one last look in the mirror, and a whistle from Lysandra, Aelin was out the door and hurrying across campus. She grabbed a coffee on the way, but avoided her usual place, knowing full well that Rowan enjoyed the same famous cafe that she did.

He wasn’t there yet when she got to the hall, but she took the same seat she had the class before.

She wondered if Rowan would be looking for her this time.

She quickly shook the thought away.

With her hot coffee on the corner of her fold up desk, she was pulling out her notebook and a pen, waiting anxiously for class to begin.

For him to walk through the door.

Apparently he liked to be right on the dot, though, because students continued to wander in, but he did not.

She was tapping her pen against her notebook, doing her best not to stare at the clock. She was just anxious for her day to start. It wasn’t that she wanted to see Rowan.

Professor Whitethorn, she amended in her head. She had to quit thinking of him as Rowan. She couldn’t think of him like that anymore, his body pressing into hers, lips on her neck, as he—

Shaking her head, Aelin sighed and suddenly realized that the rest of the class had hushed. She was so focused on reprimanding herself for her highly inappropriate thoughts that she hadn’t noticed him come through the door and begin setting up for class. When she dared to glance towards the front, she found his eyes on her. He quickly looked away, going back to his laptop and setting up the PowerPoint on screen.

Maybe he hadn’t been looking at her.

Maybe it had all been in her mind.

But she didn’t think it had been.

He had been watching her.

“Happy Thursday, class,” he began, as the title page of his presentation flashed onto the board. “Glad to see you all showed up again. Must mean my first class didn’t suck.” Quiet laughter thrummed through the room. Aelin couldn’t muster a laugh, though. “On Tuesday, we covered the basics. So, today… Sorry, we’re doing that again.”

More laughter, especially from the pretty, flirty girls up front.

Aelin couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

Which, when she settled her eyes back on Rowan, he definitely saw.

Come on, get your shit together, she chastised herself. With her back straightened, she gave him her full attention.

She took dutiful notes, but his slides didn’t hold much in the way of information. They were mostly headers, with a few bullet points. Most of the important information, information she knew would be critical for homework or exams, came straight from Rowan’s mouth.

It was clear that he loved mythology, that it wasn’t just a class his aunt had tossed his way and told him to figure it out. He was a trove of knowledge and she noticed he had a habit of going on slight tangents when he got going on a topic he was clearly interested in.

After a student asked him to clarify what he meant about Hercules not being Zeus’ only son, he ended up talking for nearly twenty minutes about what the beloved Disney movie had gotten wrong. Aelin had stopped taking notes and was watching him go on and on about how Hades, while god of the underworld, was not necessarily a villain. He just had a job to do. A job that had rules that must be followed, or the consequences could damn not only him, but others involved. His eyes found hers again and the amused smile on her face fell as she made the correlation between their own situation and the story.

They held each other’s gazes for far longer than was appropriate, and Rowan cleared his throat, going back to the PowerPoint, and the predetermined lesson plans he’d made, which didn’t include children’s movie breakdowns.

She watched him.

She listened.

And she found it all fascinating.

Rowan peeked at the clock after going on and on, and stilled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I guess I’ll end there. There is an assignment due by tomorrow evening. You can find and submit it online. It’s an opinion piece. I want a little insight as to why you were so interested to take this class, or what you’ve found fascinating so far.” He sat on his desk, his legs hanging over the side, his feet nearly touching the ground as he leaned back on his palms. Aelin found it charming. “You’re going to write a short essay telling me of your favorite deity. It could be one I’ve talked about so far, or one I haven’t. It’s your choice. But, tell me why they are your favorite. Give me a little depth. And, remember, this is a college course. Grammar counts.”

The clock struck nine-thirty and everyone began packing up. Aelin had been so captivated by his voice that she had to snap herself back to reality.

She quickly packed up her bag, alongside the other students around her. She noticed then how young they all were, and she was willing to bet that she may be the only senior on the roster. As she was descending the stairs, she found Rowan’s eyes on her again, but he looked away as his attention was taken, thanks to the group of girls who’d been sitting in the front row. She heard vague questions of whether they could all write about Aphrodite, since they all related to her.

The scoff Aelin thought she’d kept to herself had apparently been out loud, since not only Rowan looked at her as she passed, but so did the three girls. With his attention on her again, she decided to give him a little wave.

“See you later, Professor Whitethorn.”

If there was some extra sway to her hips, it wasn’t on purpose.

At least that’s what she told herself.

Two and a half hours later, Aelin was starving. She’d just gotten out of an extremely complicated lab and she could barely focus over the growling of her stomach. Twice, the instructor had looked over at her, half expecting to find a dog stashed under the table she was working at.

So when the class let out, she was hurrying toward the cafeteria ready to get a salad from the salad bar and a big ass slice of pizza.

It was all about balance.

As she was waiting in line to fill her plate with salad, she heard a voice behind her.

“Are you actually getting lettuce or just filling your plate with ham, cheese, and croutons?”

Aelin looked over her shoulder to find Chaol, her ex, suppressing a smile.

Aelin chuckled. “If it’s the same price, you may as well pile up on the good stuff.”

Chaol gave her a small smile. “Fair enough. It’s good to see you, Aelin. You look good.”

Things hadn’t ended the best between her and Chaol, but that had been just after freshman year. At least now when they ran into one another, they could have nice little conversations like this one.

No hard feelings.

“You too,” she said, and he did. He’d been in an accident the year before. They weren’t sure he was going to walk again. In all honesty, it was just good to see him on his feet.

“How long until your class?” He asked, sliding his tray along behind hers.

She glanced down at her watch. “About forty five minutes. You?”

“This is my long break,” he sighed. “I’ve got an hour and a half, but didn’t feel like leaving campus. Want to have lunch with me?”

“Sure.” Her smile wasn’t forced, it was easy and she was glad they could even do this, when three years again, they could barely be in the same room.

“I assume you’re getting a piece of pizza after this,” Chaol said with a smirk, nodding towards her plate. “So I’ll grab us a table while you get the rest of your lunch.”

She scoffed but nodded, and went off to get a slice of pizza. When she ordered her pizza, she also got a slice of cheesecake. It was his favorite, something she hadn’t forgotten, but it didn’t hurt that she liked it, too.

Finding him in the cafeteria, she sat down at the table across from him. “How’s Yrene doing?”

He blushed, and Aelin had to admit it was adorable. After his accident, he’d fallen for his physical therapist, and she was just as smitten with him. It must have been all the one-on-one sessions, because Chaol had never been one to let someone in. Aelin had met Yrene early in her med classes, but Yrene had specialized in PT and graduated in less than three years, taking as many classes as she could manage and even studying through the summers as well.

“It’s going good,” he said, at last. “We, uh, just moved in together, actually.”

Aelin lifted a brow. “That was fast.”

Chaol shot her a look.

Aelin laughed. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant, good for you. I like Yrene. A lot. You two are good together.”

Chaol cleared his throat before taking a bite of his salad. “Thanks.”

Aelin chuckled, taking a bite of her pizza.

Chaol blinked. “What?”

“You get so uncomfortable when it comes to feelings,” she said. “Always have.”

His eyes narrowed at her. “That’s not true.”

Aelin stopped mid-chew and raised a brow.

Even Chaol couldn’t help but chuckle at the expression. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. What about you? Seeing anyone?”

Aelin hesitated, then said, “No.”

A slow grin appeared on Chaol’s mouth. “Didn’t sound so sure about what one.”

Aelin shrugged. “Better be nice or I’m not sharing this magnificent cheesecake with you.”

Holding up his hands in placation, Chaol went back to his salad. Rowan was a dangerous topic, one she wouldn’t share with anyone but Lysandra, so she summed it up quickly. “Met someone I thought I hit it off with. Turns out we didn’t work.”

He slowly nodded. Aelin knew he’d had a couple failed relationships between her and Yrene. “I get it, I’m sorry. Still sucks.”

Shrugging again, she turned to her salad. “It happens. Not a big deal. So if you’re living with Yrene, does that mean you and Dorian broke up? Or is he playing house with you, too?”

Chaol leveled her with a look. Chaol and Dorian had been best friends long before they came to the University of Orynth. They were both from Adarlan, both trying to get away from overbearing fathers, and decided college across the country was the way to do it. They’d been roommates every year and Aelin couldn’t even imagine Chaol living with anyone except Dorian. But now he was. “He moved into an apartment with Manon this semester when I moved in with Yrene.”

Aelin blinked. “Blackbeak? He moved in with Manon Blackbeak?”

Nodding, Chaol went on. “Apparently, they’ve been dating for about a year, without anyone noticing.”

Something in the way he said it told Aelin that he had noticed, but when Dorian had his mind set on something, there was no stopping him. And apparently, he’d decided to date one of the most terrifying women on campus.

Aelin’s response was eloquent. “Wow.”

Chaol grinned. “I like it when you’re caught off guard. It’s satisfying.”

With a scoffed she nudged his leg with the toe of her sneaker. “Well, I don’t. Dorian will be getting a very angry phone call this afternoon.”

“I’ll be sure to give him a warning,” Chaol promised.

Aelin chuckled, taking the last bite of her pizza. “It’s good to see you all happy, though. Really.”

Chaol’s eyes softened. “Thanks, Aelin.”

She nodded. “Even if I am terrified that Dorian will get eaten alive.”

Chaol laughed, and she had forgotten how nice Chaol’s rare, hearty laugh was.

She meant it. She was so happy for them, both of them. It was interesting how things changed over the course of a few short years.

Their conversation continued, as did the laughs, and before she knew it, Aelin glanced down at her watch. She had less than fifteen minutes to haul ass back to the nursing building for her next class. Chaol, who had much longer to sit with nothing to do, assured her that he could handle her trash and told her to get to class. With a hug, and a promise that they’d have dinner soon, all of them, even Manon, Aelin was hurrying out of the cafeteria building.

Somehow, the entire time she’d been having lunch with Chaol, she hadn’t noticed the set of pine green eyes watching her.

Rowan’s own break had been at the same time as hers, but the gen ed building was much closer than wherever she was having to run off to, so he had longer to sit and— there was no denying it— brood. They were halfway across the room, so he couldn’t hear any of their conversation. He had no clue who the tall man was she smiled at so often, but clearly they were very familiar with each other with how easily they talked. And he made her laugh. A lot.

Rowan wasn’t sure why that was what grated on his nerves the most, but it unsettled him.

Seeing Aelin with someone else, someone clearly her own age, it all unsettled him. He didn’t like it. Almost as much as her parting words in class had.

See you later, Professor Whitethorn.

It’s like she was mocking him, yet at the same time, she clearly wasn’t. She was doing exactly as he’d asked of her, seeing him as her professor, not as her boyfriend.

No, he reprimanded himself. Not boyfriend. Hookup.

They’d had sex one time, that didn’t give either of them any claim over the other. It was a hookup and nothing more. And she was his gods-damned student.

She was off limits, in every way possible.

Yet he couldn’t figure out why seeing her with someone else, someone she should clearly be interested in instead of him, had him seeing red.

#rowaelin #rowan #aelin #fanfic #fanfiction #tog #throne of glass #modern au #professor au #college au #sjm #snacmc collab #snelbx x tacmc collab

151 notes · View notes