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phykios · 4 years ago

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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

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years ago

Text

Just Ask

Prompts: Hey… So, I was wondering if you could write a fic where one of the sides are dyslexic? Since that usually just ends as "Oh, I can't read, oh no!" and not like the actual neurodiversity it is. Yes, I admit, I want to relate to one too, but… Well. It'd be awesome if you would, but if that's too tall an order or too specific that's fine too. If you do, though, maybe college AU with roceit? -anon

Hi you're amazing! I love your writing and brand of writing and just I've read a lot of your stories and I love them all kskejejwuwugfhsv-

I was wondering, if you take requests, that maybe you could write a human AU with fake dating Roceit? With confident fat Janus because we need that! Or not, that's your choice!

(I sound like some snob asking for a highly specific coffee shi-) - anon

oh babe y'all wanted to be FED huh

Read on Ao3

Warnings: slight ableist/fatphobic language

Pairings: roceit

Word Count: 2487

Sometimes, you can get all of your work done in the library. Sometimes, people are ableists.

And sometimes there's something wonderful in finding out there's someone there for you as well.

Roman scrubs his hands over his face and sighs. Between waiting ages at the printer or absolutely destroying his retinas by staring at a screen for hours on end, he isn’t unhappy with making the choice to save the environment by using less paper but god.

“At least this pdf was convertible,” he mutters, scrolling down to see how many pages he has left. The last four weren’t and reading without the right font is a fucking pain in the ass.

Seven pages left. Great.

Roman focuses on the screen and starts to mutter under his breath again. Focus on the word, figure it out, make the sentence, move on. Pause to take notes, make sure it’s legible to read later, and repeat.

A computer and heavy bag thuds onto the table next to him and he jumps, almost knocking his coffee over. He looks up, glaring at the person who stares down their nose at him like he’s some sort of stain. Rude.

“You’ve been here for like, three hours, dude,” they say, like that’s supposed to justify their behavior, “move. I need this spot.”

Roman looks around. There’s like, four more tables open. “Can’t you just go sit somewhere else?”

“No! This is my spot! You can go sit somewhere else.”

“Well,” Roman mutters, glaring at his screen again, “I was here first. So you can either wait until I’m done or sit down.”

“Dude, I swear—“

“Excuse me,” comes a smooth voice that has no business being this polished in the fucking library, “is this person bothering you, sweetie?”

Roman turns around and his mouth drops open.

“J-Janus?”

Janus raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms and glaring at the dick with the heavy bag. Who, as a matter of fact, seems to be muttering and stuffing shit back into said bag.

“Sorry I’m late,” Janus drawls, still sounding way too confident and way too much like he knows what’s going on, “got held up after class.”

“Uh, no problem,” he mumbles, glancing over his shoulder to see the asshole is still standing there, “just, um…working.”

“Ah, well then, you won’t mind if I join you.” And with that, Janus sits down with a flourish, propping his chin up on his hand and fixing the asshole with an impressive look of disgust. “And you…you can leave.”

“Look, buddy—“

“My partner and I have work to do,” Janus says, swiftly cutting them off and making sure Roman has no idea what’s going on, “now leave.”

Roman’s really glad there was no ambiguity that Janus could’ve been talking to him, because he’s about ready to bolt. Only when the asshole has retreated does Janus turn his gaze to him.

“Sorry about that,” he says, flicking a speck of imaginary lint from his gloves, “he seemed like he was bothering you. Thanks for playing along.”

“Oh, uh, no, I’m, uh—“ Janus raises an eyebrow as Roman stumbles over his words— “sorry. Uh, thanks?”

Janus chuckles. “Oh, no worries, sweetie. I was happy to do it. Although…”

Janus squints at him and Roman fights the urge to squirm under that gaze.

“You’re in my seminar class, aren’t you?” Roman nods. “The one that let out three hours ago?”

“Yeah, uh-huh.”

“Have you…been here since then?”

Roman nods, trying to get back to work and, you know, maybe get out of here, only for Janus to reach across the table and still his hands as he goes to pick up the pen again.

“Have you eaten?”

“What?”

“Eaten,” Janus says slowly, mouth stretching into a smile, “lunch, sweetie.”

“Uh—“ no, is the correct answer— “I was going to?”

Janus just gives him a look.

“…no.”

“Mm.” Janus glances at his computer and notebook. “You’re not by any chance attempting to read all of the assignments in one go, are you?”

Roman’s guilty flush seems to answer that question for him. Janus sighs and it’s such an odd mixture of disappointment and fondness Roman hasn’t earned that his brain spits out the only question he actually wants an answer to.

“Why are you here?”

Janus chuckles. “In the library, at this school, or are we already to the point of questioning the very nature of existence?”

Roman just blinks at him.

“Oh, relax, sweetie, I’m teasing.” Janus glances off in the vague direction the asshole wandered off to. He leans a little closer. “I know how…difficult it can be to try and do work when they bother you.”

Roman’s cheeks flush. “Oh, uh…thanks, then.”

Janus waves a hand. “It’s none of their business why you’re doing so much work at once. Even if it does make you skip lunch,” he adds with such a pointed look that Roman can’t help splutter.

“I was going to! And you’re not my mother!”

“No,” Janus purrs, “but like any good partner, I like to make sure my sweetie takes care of themselves.”

Roman does not squeak, despite Janus’s chuckles, but he does start to fiddle with his pen. “I can’t…stop yet.”

“Why ever not?”

“Can you stop,” Roman blurts, scrubbing his hands over his blushing face, “please? For like, two seconds?”

“Sorry, you’re just adorable.”

“Stop, dude, seriously, if you want an actual answer to the question?”

“I’m done,” Janus chuckles, “I’m done, sorry.”

Roman takes a deep breath. He fiddles with the pen. “It’s just—with my dyslexia, it takes a while to…find the, um…”

“Zone?”

“…sure.”

Janus hums in understanding. Then he reaches into his own bag and pulls out a book of his own. “Then we may as well work together until you’re finished.”

Roman blinks. Hi, hello, brain is confused, what just happened in the last five minutes?

Janus waves a hand in front of his face. “Hello? Sweetie? You okay?”

“Sorry, I’m just—trying to process what happened.” Roman blinks again. “Because it seems like some asshole tried to take my seat, you came up and pretended to be my partner to scare them away, proceeded to badger me about taking care of myself, and now you’re…still here?”

Janus nods. “That’s how I experienced it too, that’s correct.”

“…so now what’re we doing?”

“Well, I’m also going to try and get some work done, you’re going to finish your work, and then we’re going to get lunch.”

“And what about the dude that now thinks we’re partners?”

Janus looks at him and shrugs. “I’m game if you are.”

Roman blinks again. Is…Janus suggesting they fake being in a relationship to, what, defend Roman’s right to sit wherever the fuck he wants for however long in a library?

“What’s in it for you?”

“Pardon?”

“You heard me,” Roman says, “what’s in it for you?”

Janus’s fingers still on the book he’s pulled out. He sighs and looks up at Roman.

“How long have you known about your dyslexia?”

Jumping around a bit here, aren’t we? “About six years, why?”

“And you know how to manage it? For you?”

“Uh, yeah, why?”

“That doesn’t mean it goes away,” Janus says softly, “it’s still work, you just…know how to do it now.”

“Yeah, it still takes me time to do things, why—“ Roman’s eyes widen— “oh. Oh, wait, you mean—wait, what do they have against you?”

Janus’s mouth tugs up into a smirk. “How sweet.”

“Shut up,” Roman mumbles, “you know what I mean.”

Janus just winks at him before sobering. “Well,” he says wryly, gesturing at himself, “surely you can understand that…not everyone treats you very well when you aren’t the circumference of a toothpick.”

Oh. They’re those kind of assholes. Something Janus chuckles about when that thought gets out before Roman can stop them.

“Quite. I can manage them, but it’s still work.” He looks at Roman. “Maybe we can split the load?”

“I’m down with that.”

“Wonderful. Now,” Janus says, mock sternly, “get back to work. We have lunch to get.”

Roman chuckles. “Sure, sure, don’t ask to borrow my notes.”

“I would never, I just forget things like a cool person and make things up that the professor likes to hear.”

Yeah, this is gonna go just fine.

As it turns out, it does. Roman won’t lie, he was…skeptical about the viability of this plan of theirs. He’s read the stories. He knows how this works. He knows about the misunderstandings and whether it’s a bet or a dare, something goes wrong.

But…nothing does.

Watching Janus tear anyone to shreds is entertaining enough in class, where Roman gives up on taking debate notes and just watches because goddamn, but when he gets to stand there and just glare at some ableist while Janus verbally decimates them? Poetic cinema. He debates sneaking some popcorn into his jacket pocket but that would take away from the power of his glare.

And it is nice to have someone else do the work of glaring assholes away from his table when he’s working on reading. He would be lying if he said that actually having someone else to talk to isn’t part of it. It’s so much easier to keep track of where he’s messing up so he can focus on it during his exercises later.

“You know,” Janus remarks as they leave the library one day, “you can ask the professors for editable pdfs.”

“Huh?”

“For your font stuff.” Janus nods toward his backpack. “I know you like to change the font so you can read it better, most of them have editable copies of the materials.”

“Not for the eBooks and scans and stuff.”

Janus huffs, waving his hand. “How do you think they get the audio transcripts for the recorded versions? They have to transcribe it anyway, just ask for those.”

Roman stops. “How…how do you know those exist?”

Janus just taps the side of his nose and winks.

“Can…can you do that?”

“Of course.” Janus links his arm through Roman’s. “Anything for you.”

That shouldn’t do what it does to Roman’s chest.

Because yeah, okay, maybe Janus is…really cute.

Like, unfairly cute.

No one should be able to rock that hat all the time. And the gloves. And the pocket watch. And the curly hair. And the attitude. And the impressive vocabulary. And the razor-sharp wit. And he actually knows how to flirt! What is flirting? All Roman knows is Gay Panic™ and Suffering™. What is this? Why is it allowed?

And why, oh why, did Janus have to be the one that started the fake-dating idea?

Because here’s the thing. It would be so easy to just be friends with Janus. It would! They’re already friends now, fake-dating kind of does that to you. And Janus, despite what he wants everyone else to believe, is a fucking dork. His actual laugh is squeaky and bubbly and ugh, Roman could drown in it. And he’s really kind. It’s not the same breed of kind that Roman’s used to, but goddamn, Janus is so sweet when he lets himself be. And it’s been so long since Roman had like, an actual friend…

But it would also be so easy to be more than friends with Janus. To actually be able to take him out for dates and not just lunch at their janky cafeteria. To be able to spend time together that isn’t just for show, or platonic, or just hanging out ranting about stupid dead supposed-to-be-smart people.

Again, Roman’s read the stories. He knows how this is supposed to go.

So when he takes a little longer to pack up one day, enough that Janus notices and eases himself back down into his seat with a soft, real, ‘what’s wrong, sweetie, let me help,’ Roman prepares the bittersweet ‘nothing, I’m fine,’ and to swallow down everything real.

But instead…

“Can we, um, actually date?”

Janus blinks. “Come again, sweetie?”

Roman fiddles with the buckle on his bag. “I, um, I really appreciate what we’ve been doing, and I, um, I’m super happy being your friend…”

“The feeling is mutual.”

“…but I, um—“ god, why are words so hard?— “I think I would actually like to try…dating you. For real.”

He peeks up nervously at Janus.

“Is…is that okay?”

Janus sits there, silent. He blinks a few times. Then a slow, real smile spreads across his face.

“Roman,” he says softly, almost too quiet, even in the hush of the library, “why do you think I proposed this idea in the first place?”

Oh.

Roman blinks. “Wait, you—you?”

A pretty flush covers Janus’s face. “Well, I…was planning to ask you normally, but then I saw you being absolutely tormented and…panicked.”

“You panicked?”

He throws his hands up. “Well, what was I supposed to do? The most gorgeous person in my seminar was being bullied and I was supposed to just let it happen?”

Wait. Back up. Roman is what?

“And yes, maybe I...wanted an excuse to be your friend first, but as I said, I panicked and so—“

“You—wait, you think I’m pretty?”

Janus stops, mouth open, before he’s scoffing. “Roman, have you seen yourself?”

“Uh—“

“At least you’re pretty,” Janus mutters under his breath, “pretty and dumb, but pretty.”

“Hey!”

“You can be big of brain and dumb of ass at the same time, sweetie.”

“Oh, says the man whose idea was to fake-date me because you wanted to actually ask me out!”

“I will not be lectured on dramatics from a theater kid.”

“That’s ex-theater kid to you.”

“Oh, you know once you go, you never come back.”

Roman giggles. Then he’s laughing. Janus joins in and oh, this is much better than shoving feelings down and pretending they don’t exist.

“You’re such a fucking dork.”

“No,” Janus purrs, reaching over to boop the end of Roman’s nose, “I’m your fucking dork.”

Oh. Oh, that sounds…really good. Roman’s chest is really warm now, when did that happen? Janus smiles too.

“So…dinner?”

“You’re paying.”

“I’ll pick you up at six.”

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loadgs850 · 4 years ago

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What Does Your Typeface Say About Your Brand?

Fonts perform a great role in your design, so you should know which fonts not to use in your designs. Either in typography or in web page design, the use of proper fonts is a great advantage. Sometimes, designs become disasters just because the font is not used properly or, in some sense, does not fit the occasion.

This calls for the proper selection. For decades, the Internet has constantly provided us with a vast database of fonts, all segregated by variety, style and use.

This lets us choose which to use. Because of this wide variety that we have, it is just fitting to say that nobody can have an excuse why they chose the wrong font. It’s also safe to say that with the liberty each designer has, he should pick the right fonts at the right time.

But some fonts, of course, tend to have become more popular because of their availability. Operating systems like Windows have provided default fonts for the user. It removes the hassle of choosing, downloading and installing them. This convenience has been good because of the easy access of readily available fonts but has become detrimental too because the fonts that were popularly used became cliché. Hence, they are to be avoided.

I tried to make a list of fonts that you should never use again. These were selected because they were too cliché and very hard to put into the design. The essence of this list is not to fully discriminate mainstream and cliché fonts but to properly use them for fitting occasions.

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Use of a sans serif signals to customers that your brand appreciates clean lines, has style and is easy to work with. Thinner stroke widths create a trendy vibe, while bolder strokes often feel important. Use a regular weight to take the emphasis off the type altogether, allowing it to fall into the rest of the design.

Sep 20, 2020 Fonts Help Building a Brand Personality. Brand personality refers to the personification of the brand. Adjectives like caring, cool, funny, luxurious, etc. Are associated with the brand because of their brand personality. Fonts have their very own personality and brands can capitalize on it if they use the right type of font for the right content.

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Your visual brand consists of your colors, fonts, and the style of images you use on your website and in social media. Modernist brands will likely have to re-make their brand image more often than Classic brands to stay ahead of visual trends.

Comic Sans MS

Comic Sans MS is one of the basic Windows fonts installed in your computer as you boot up Windows. Microsoft first introduced this font in 1994. Comic Sans was designed by Vincent Connare as a child-oriented font. Its inspiration was mainly gotten from comic books in Connare’s office (they were Watchmen lettered by Dave Gibbons and The Dark Knight Returns lettered by John Costanza).

According to him, he originally designed the font to be used with speech bubbles and not for general use. But since then a lot of people have fallen in love with this font and it became a cliché.

One main reason why you should stop using this font is it is childish. It lacks formality, though it is used for formal events and announcements (doing facepalm right there). Unless of course you’re running a website for kids, or designing a first-birthday invitation, you could use these kinds of fonts (I said these kinds because you have other choices than Comic Sans).

Never use it for swimming pool rules signboards, grave epitaphs, commemorative plaques, hospitals, government job applications, heart transplant activities, and books.

Never use this font when you are designing for business sites, or warning signs. It might give people an impression that your client is childish and might not take them seriously. Never write DO NOT ENTER in Comic Sans, else, the reader might see it as “Do not enter says stupid childish whoever”.

Use Comic Sans MS only when your audience are below 6 years old (parent-letters not included), when you’re writing speech bubble contents for comics, and when you’re client is dying and his last will and testament said so.

Visit: Comics Sans Criminal

Subtitute Fonts:

Lexia Readable

P22 Kaz Pro

JM Doodle Medium

FF Friday Regular

Sharktooth Regular

Comic Strip

Papyrus

Remember that term paper about Egypt your teacher told you to write? I bet you used Papyrus back then! And I bet too, that you might as well, if you can, forget that shameful design experience.

Papyrus came out in 1983. Chris Costello successfully managed to design it after six months of manual hand-drawing. According to him, it was designed to imitate the pre-modern writing in papyrus leaves.

Be that as it is nobly designed, this font wasn’t really seen in papyrus rolls alone. You can now see it in captchas, advertisements, signboards, banners, books, and even in most typographic designs! It seemed to have been seen everywhere to the point that you might even vomit if you see it again in your page.

This saturation resulted to people hating the font. (For proof, find iheartpapyrus.com.)

Travis Estvold once wrote via blog.echoenduring.com:

“I, myself, hate when people use Papyrus—the font, that is, not the plant or the paper. I’ll be the first to admit it’s a strange thing to detest but whether it’s justified, this loathing is my constant companion. Surely, if someone proclaims the most bothersome part of his day is unearthing new and terrible ways in which locals have used and displayed a particular typeface, he must also be a designer. This is true… I’m not sure when my obsession with the font began, but my poor girlfriend, who has been a party to most of my Papyrus sightings over the past two years, can tell you it’s been building for some time.”

Truly, Papyrus is one of the ‘I-was-used-repeatedly-until-I-became-useless’ type of fonts.

Curlz MT

Okay, I personally loathe this font. Once a classmate of mine used this font in a letter sent to me and I went nuts. My eyes had a hard time reading and I got dizzy and nauseous! To my anger, I wrote him back. Guess what font I used, WINGDINGS! Imagine the hate in his face.

Curlz was originally designed by Carl Corssgrove and Steve Matteson in 1995. They were added into the default Windows fonts and were also originally created for party invitations. This font copied what happened to the Comic Sans Font, it became to mainstream to a point that people got sick and tired of them.

Aside from that, it lacks formality and authority. You can never use it in coat-and-tie events, warning signs and many more because it will just give your readers an impression of a joke. Curlz also has big issues with legibility. Imagine writing a book with Curlz MT font. People who read your book might sing, ‘You spin my head right round right round’. If you want to make your body readable, do not, not even in your drunk days, use this font in the body.

Now this font, too, has become overused. It’s almost everywhere too! Most people think that just because your website caters to women, you have all the right and privilege in the world to use this font.

Actually, the female target market does not oblige you to use Curlz MT. It is very wrong to think that women will fall for cute and curly letters. No, that would never happen. Well you might be able to attract middle-aged ex-cheerleaders who think they are still in middle school. I guess that would make an audience.

Arial

A designer friend of mine once said, if you have Helvetica, use it. Don’t settle for Arial.

According to designworkplan.com, Robin Nicholas and Patricia Saunders originally designed Arial in 1982. It was widely used as the standard typeface for normal computer usage. It became popular after the release of Windows 3.1 where it was installed as free. After that boom, the usage of the Arial font spread like wildfire across the globe.

People may have liked Arial because it is readily available in the operating system. Of course, the mentality is, why buy an expensive font if you could make do with what you have. The result? Arial explosion. Arial on magazines, on street signs, on banners on advertisements and even in TV! Of course this made most designers sick of it. Also, Arial has no proper and true Italics, which made it difficult for body texts to italicize with style.

Good thing, we can have substitutes for Arial nowadays. We can easily swap this ubiquitous font to make your body texts look new.

First is Verdana. Released in 1996, Verdana is one of the more popular substitutes to Arial because aside from its ready availability, Verdana is easier to read. Second is Tahoma. The Tahoma font was released with Win95 as part of the MS Office. It’s also readily available as Verdana is. Third is Trebuchet MS. Trebuchet MS was released with Windows 2000 and looks more like Verdana.

Courier New

Ever remembered the typewriter? Do you notice the resemblance of the typeface your typewriter produces and the font Courier New? Well, it’s supposed to look like it because it was how Howard “Bud” Kettler thought it to be in 1955. Courier is a slab serif type of font that was originally sold to IBM. It was made to look like a typewriter print because IBM originally made typewriters.

Kettler says that the font was called courier because instead of being a messenger, “a letter can can be the courier, which radiates dignity, prestige, and stability.”

Had it radiated dignity and prestige? I don’t think so. Courier’s stability as a font has been questioned a lot of times. All we know about the courier font is that it is a serif font. But aside from that, nothing. Courier had been suffixed with ‘New’ but I still see nothing new in it.

Courier are used for certain occasions like film scripts, codes and plain text documents. Web designers avoid courier because its lettering is not properly measured and it suggests a more ancient design. Also, because it was originally designed for typewriters, courier font letters have low-resolution and cannot be placed in the body artistically but it does look good with a green background.

What Does Your Typeface Say About Your Brand Name

The Courier font is used on movie scripts, novel manuscripts and other forms of literary art. But in web design it has no place, unless you want your website to look like it’s fresh out of the typewriter.

For font alternatives, try Cousine.

Cousine was designed by Steve Matteson as an innovative, refreshing sans serif design that is metrically compatible with Courier New™. Cousine offers improved on-screen readability characteristics and the pan-European WGL character set and solves the needs of developers looking for width-compatible fonts to address document portability across platforms.

Times New Roman

One of the best updates Microsoft Word had in the past years is its use of a new default font. In previous version, I recall that Times New Roman was the default font used. I personally didn’t like Times New Roman because it’s very hard to read and suggests a mood of laziness in it.

For a fact, Times New Roman was named after the Times of London, a British newspaper. They needed a new body text font for their paper in 1929. They hired a guy named Stanley Morison of Monotyope, a British company. Morison did the job with Victor Lardent as supervisor and eventually named it Times New Roman.

Then on, the font was used in most body texts and has been popularized as it became Microsoft Office’s default font. This led to its status of being cliché. It became so overly used to a point when people found it disgusting and insulting to use.

Most designers see the Times New Roman font as narrow-spaced because they are originally designed for newspapers and though it is formal in nature, Times New Roman’s bold typeface makes it hard to read and thus loses its formality. Spacing has also been a problem for Times.

If you can avoid it, please do. You can substitute with fonts like Concourse, which is a sans serif font which can be used for more formal situations and legalities. Equity is also a good font as it is a combination of classic and convenient designs. Book Antiqua is also a good candidate and has better spacing flexibility than Times.

Bradel Hand ITC

It might come to his senses that Richard Bradley might soon be sick and tired of seeing his handwriting. I mean, it’s literally everywhere. It might even cause him a very serious headache to even see his penmanship!

Richard Bradley is the designer of the seemingly abused Bradley Hand ITC font. According to Microsoft, this font is an informal script- based font. It is characterized as warm and familiar in nature and has a relaxed rhythm typical to the real handwriting.

Being a readily available font, this font has been used to convey a personal touch in the sans-serif font because fonts like Arial and Helvetica cannot do this. Producing a handwritten-like design will make it look like the designer himself bothered to personally write. That is why it was used in a lot of occasions like posters, school announcements, bulletin boards, cards, invitations and even in story books.

But this, sadly, all resulted into chaos as it was turned into a cliché. Aside from this, the Bradley Hand ITC font is ineligible. If you’ll use it for headings and announcements, which should be seen from afar, it will not become visible as it is thin, even if emphasized. Meanwhile, if you’ll use it in the body, your reader will probably go mad because he would not understand the text properly because Bradley Hand’s readability goes lower as it size decreases.

Personally, I wound not suggest any alternative for handwritten fonts because I totally don’t want to use them as they are difficult to place together with other elements in the design. So might as well stick to your Helvetica.

Vivaldi

A guy named Freidrich Peter designed this intricate script typeface. It is very calligraphic and copperplate-ish. Because it is a script font, Vivaldi is commonly used in wedding invitations and other formal events.

Vivaldi is pretty formal and good except that it has problems in spacing. Vivaldi characters tend to get crowded because they are not full scripts, meaning their characters are not woven into one stroke only. For a semi-script, it is very much condensed.

This results to difficulty in reading. Yes, you may adjust the spacing between letters, but I won’t even think of that in semi-scripts. Expanding the spaces will result to inconsistency in the font design.

One more problem I see with Vivaldi is its caps. When you capitalize a whole word in the Vivaldi font, it would be pretty difficult to read and discern the difference between letters. I tell you. Try it if you don’t believe me.

Kristen ITC

Kristen ITC is one of the cutie-patootie fonts. It was designed by George Ryan for the International Typeface Corporation. It consist of two weights and was inspired by a handwritten menu at a Cambridge restaurant. This font is asymmetric and resembles the handwriting of a toddler. Like Comic Sans, this font is targeted to the child target market and was impliedly drawn to attract little children.

Kristen font users are usually grade schoolers, gradeschool teachers, child psychologists, and other people who work for kids. The font is playful in nature. You can almost see it in your children’s classrooms all saying how life should be good and that they eat a lot of vegetables.

What Does Your Typeface Say About Your Brand Say

But Kristen should be pretty much avoided. A designer should always think of the issues this font poses. First is that it is has no formality. Using this font in a legal document could make you lose a case. Second thing, is that Kristen’s non-caps are placed in the middle part of the caps. Unlike other fonts that place the non-cap characters as where the cap character baseline are.

Manual spacing could also be a problem as the spacing of the capitals of the font are difficult to measure since the characters are a little bit curved.

Viner Hand

Viner hand is an informal script font developed from the handwriting of John Viner. I’m pretty sure this font sucks because it has been overused, like the others in this list. Commonly, this font has been abused by angsty teenagers and goth wannabes.

Other Fonts to Avoid Using

Mistral

Impact

Symbol

Stencil

What Does Your Typeface Say About Your Brand Say

Wide Latin

Conclusion

For a designer, originality is everything. Fresh designs should always be produced by his rather queer mind. He should always be innovative with the design trends that happen around him. He should also be experimental in the trends he use for designing.

That is why one must not be satisfied by the fonts present in his computer. He should look and look and look until he finds that font that suits him.

Remember, a good designer has no go-to fonts.

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helpmewriteanessay777 · 4 years ago

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How To Make A College Paper Longer If you wish to discover these markets, don’t search for publishing opportunities. Search like a reader on the lookout for quick tales or flash fiction. I know this isn’t my blog but I write quick stuff so I’m inclined to leave some little tidbits of knowledge. I might be disagreeing with Kit on a number of of those. Thank you for saying that, because I’m so younger I’m not even allowed to have an account on writing sites like goodreads and wattpad. If I’m impressed by a coke can rolling down the road and write a story, I don’t have to pay Coca-Cola something, and I probably gained’t even point out them within the story. There are brief markets EVERYWHERE if you understand where to look. Fiction magazines, both on-line and print, take tales from 100 phrases to 30,000, and so they pays anywhere from 5 cents to $1.00 per word. It’s a one-time verify, and they'll ask that you don’t republish the work for six months to a yr. Get in enough of these magazines, and you've got the makings of your own anthology with plenty of writing credit. Our phones are essentially the most time consuming wasteful things on us, so ensure to leave your telephone in a special room or switch it off fully, and perhaps use it as a reward for your self. If you have to, turn off the internet or delete apps from your phone to guarantee productivity. Too a lot information and your novel could be susceptible to being boring, too little information and you will discover it difficult to put your audience in the time interval. Aim for the one hundred,000-word mark in order to supply up one thing that is wealthy in detail, but not tedious to read. are the exceptions to the ‘word-restrict’ rule, but even so they don’t often exceed 150,000 phrases (and normally fall within the 90, ,000 vary). Audiences of this genre are pleased to read epic novels, they expect it to take time to build the fantasy world round them and want to immerse themselves into that world for a while. The assemble of your query displays the likelihood English is not your native tongue. Similar to sci-fi and fantasy-fiction, you're making a world in your up to date viewers – you need to make this actual and plausible for them…but not uninteresting and lifeless. A word depend of 750 words will equal about 1.5 pages single spaced or 3 pages double spaced. Of course it'll rely upon the word processor settings, what font and font size you are using and web page margins. However, with a regular 12 level Arial or Times New Roman font and default web page margins your results must be about the same. Publishers and brokers know this and consequently they are willing to point out more leniency when it comes to word limits, so you are much less prone to lose out on a deal as a result of word count for this genre. ‘The authorities’ ask for an inventory of details in your cover letter for a cause, it's their method of figuring out your understanding of your individual work, the market, your competitors and so on. They need you to make their jobs as easy as possible – not because they are lazy, however simply overwhelmed. They want causes to throw your manuscript in the bin and transfer onto the subsequent one – and it’s not as a result of they are horrible people who need to pressure people to ‘fail’, it comes right down to time pressures actually. If it still ends up being brief, then contact TOR and see in the event that they’re fascinated. They publish plenty of shorter fiction in sci-fi/fantasy genres. If you have a compelling story, it doesn’t matter how brief it's. As lengthy as you don’t steal the song, re-use the lyrics, or whatever, you’re safe. Examples of 750 word rely pages embrace high school essays, questions for take house exams, product critiques and love letters. Use our online word depend tool to rapidly depend what number of phrases are in your essay or weblog submit. Every laptop computer and pc has a voice typing characteristic that is really meant for disabled people, but you should use it too. Voice typing requires some apply, so if you haven’t had the probabilities to determine it out, don’t waste your time on it. However, it might serve you nicely to have voice typing set up for future wants. Non-fiction pays even greater, but thats one other dialogue. There are additionally publishing houses, not the large 6, which are looking out particularly for anthology works. And on the end of the day, there’s a whole market on Kindle for brief 99cent e-books. I’m currently modifying a short piece which I’m hoping to get pubbed in Clarkesworld Magazine. I actually have just finished writing the primary of, hopefully, 5 sci-fi novels in the same collection. The first book, on Word 2016, is 134 pages with the Table of Contents and the chapters, but that would most likely fall underneath the Novella. I would possibly wish to use The Manuscript Agency for evaluation and publishing.

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rose-against-dersecest · 7 years ago

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Rose I'm sorry to vent to you about unrelated stuff...feel free to ignore this. I'm taking an online honors chemistry class and oftentimes during the class period where I'm in a computer lab for it ill end up doing work for another class so ive been cheating on tests and quizzes so I can start on work for another class sooner. Today the teacher posted a video saying numerous ppl have been cheating and in so fuckin scared obv I'm not gonna cheat any more but. Ugh.

tbh u gotta do what u gotta do to survive. and i dont understand the teachers that give u online tests and then ur own personal computers and then expect everyone to just not google the answers.... like, come on. even i did that, and i was an honors student “good noodle” teacher’s pet kid.

school is stupid because they expect you to be there for eight hours a day, they give you six more hours of homework, but then they expect you to go to school dances and pep rallies while also participating in after-school teams and clubs AND they expect you to be able to work and get eight hours of sleep per night. and it makes you go fucking insane if you don’t have any free time to relax.

OH YEAH I JUST REMEMBERED i literally cheated, too. in my ap world history class, i found the website where the teacher literally copy/pasted test questions from, and so going into test days i’d already know 80% of the answers. that was also the class where i read the book chapters that had 60 pages of small font, and took 5+ pages of notes for each chapter which turned out to be 3 full notebooks full of JUST notes for that class i’d taken, so. if you’re taking the time to really participate and working your ass off, use any shortcuts you can. be clever, but i’d say yeah, be careful on cheating and don’t do anything that can be traced back to you.

ALSO vent to me any time!!! my ears are open and i have lots of opinions on the school system. it fucked me up & i was just thinking today even that my high school college classes were much harder and demanding than actual college classes. they overprepare you and overwork you and it’s killing students literally

#rose answers #Anonymous

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animusharmonia · 7 years ago

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At about the beginning of last school year, I began logging the random stuff I’ve heard or seen around the wonder that is high school. Admittedly, some of this contains some of my shenanigans, because who am I going to pay more attention to other than myself. Writing every single thing all at once would take a while (the document I’ve been using is nearly to 16 pages as of now), so this is just a collection of some of what I deem funnier or more bizarre.

Class split into groups of 4. The four Asian kids teamed up. The one guy of the group whispered “Asian Invasion”

The manga section of the school library had two volumes of yaoi

The manga section of the school library being mixed in with the comic section

The comic and manga section of the school library being in the middle of the non-fiction area because “its cultural”

“I can’t reach the top shelf in my house, and who’s going to help me there? My dog? I don’t think so.”

“Wow! That’s so cool! I don’t care, I might tomorrow. No, wait! It’s Saturday!”

“This one is fancy heels, this one is fancy pants”

“Wait, it’s a different Louis?” “There are a lot of Louii”

“And then the guillotine was too slow, so they shot them instead” “...okay”

“This is due Thursday, right? Let’s discuss who’s doing what slide and leave it at that because yay, procrastination”

The Latin teacher teaching us how to say “Go to hell” in Latin when she told a story about someone in the Latin 3 class having asked what the phrase in question from one of their books meant

The radio was playing music over the gymnasium. My Immortal came on. “I’m so tired of being here” “Hah, same”

“Everyone knows what a coup d'etat is, right?”

We got the majority of the class

“An overthrowing by the military”

And we got this kid

“It sounds like something from Lion King”

“???”

Someone said “Coup d’etat” slowly, to the tuneish of “Hakuna matata”

The realization and understanding dawning across the class

Waiting in those minutes for class to end, a few people sat there quietly singing Hakuna Matata

“A coup d’etat-ta, what a wonderful thing”

“And this guy was like “Hell yeah, we want change…””

“Probably using different words”

“Well yeah, he used French”

“Is that a lacrosse ball?” “Yeah” “We’re in theater, how the fuck did you get that?”

One girl sitting on one of the plastic desk chairs with her knees to her chest, calmly eating a salad as she participated in the class discussion

One girl dislocated her arm in sports and, instead of keeping it in a sling, got this exoskeleton thing made to keep her arm at a 90 degree angle. She was way too excited to discover it was at a perfect angle for dabbing.

“I swear, if we have a pop quiz in that class I’m going to cry. Or kill a man. I can’t tell which anymore”

One girl all but sprinting down the hall as she let out some low shrieking noise, only stopping when she got to her friend’s side and leaned far enough in front of him to make eye contact.

“I was doing, like, six things at once and thought ‘What if the building fell right now? I would get nothing done.’ Because hey, it’s the end of the year, I got all this stuff to do, and it would be really inconvenient.”

One guy had a table in the lobby and stood, roll of tinfoil in hand and tinfoil hat on head, yelling about the Illuminati, aliens, and government. He was passing out tinfoil hats to anyone who wanted them

Someone walked into my Latin class wearing one and magistra asked if the guy was talking about the “Alluminati” instead of the Illuminati

One girl’s promposal where she called out the other girl’s name to get her attention as one friend to her right began playing “Never gonna give you up” and the friend to the right held roses. The sign she held read “It would meme a lot if you went to prom with me” in large shiny foil letters, meme in purple as opposed to the gold of the others, and a pepe in the bottom right corner. It was adorable.

“I nearly got a detention for reading in reading class. I was tempted to continue just for when people asked me what I was in for”

On a Latin test, there was a section where you were given 7 names and you had to give a fact about 5 of them. For Vulcan, the Roman god of fire, someone put “A species of alien that appears in the series Star Trek” and he got a point for that.

A girl put “Got a Yugioh card named after him” in small font for Regulus, but filled in 5 others seriously

One girl who is Very Passionate about Yugioh

The teacher was making hand gestures as he spoke. He paused in gestures with his hand outstretched, still addressing the class, and the person sitting right beside him reached out and gave him a high-five

The guy who gave him the high-five had hacked his (the history teacher’s) computer earlier that year

The common “Final” for jazz band is that the teacher brings in Rock Band and they play that

“I’m amazed, you can hear the lack of brain cells”

One meme of a girl wrote “I’M SCHLEEP” on the whiteboard in band. She took a picture of it and walked away satisfied with herself. A few minutes later, the band director piped up from the back of the room. “Hey, Ashley? What does ‘schleep’ mean?” “I dunno”

Someone hiking up their shorts to the length of girls’ shorts, pulling his shirt down so you can’t see them, and Naruto running a circle around the room

Due to state testing, classes were shortened. On the day of the final band concert, those involved went to their first three classed but remained in third (concert band. Those from wind ensemble were pulled in as well) and lurked there for the rest of the day to practice. Pizza was ordered and soda was brought for a celebration of sorts. The 32 pizzas ordered were emptied within around half an hour.

A group of three girls and two guys. The third girl declared herself the fifth wheel of the group, staring tiredly at the two couples.

She didn’t really seem to care, though, and generally could be found latched onto one of her friend’s arms. Both the friend and friend’s boyfriend didn’t really seem to care either.

The other couple, meanwhile, was fluent in innuendos and suggestive comments that tended to scare away the asexual fifth wheel.

“Freshmen, do not climb into the trash cans, thank you.”

One girl convinced some guy in class that Inside Out ends with the girl dying

“That’s not possible.” “It’s magic, shut up.”

“Why is the final cumulative? I can’t remember shit.”

One girl’s realization that graduation was the following day (seniors have been out for well over a week, it’s hard to tell) and the complaint at how “WE HAVE TO PLAY AT THE FREAKING THING, WHY DOES NOBODY TELL ME THESE THINGS?!”

One kid brought in wasabi candy. He offered some to his table mate before telling him what it was. He ate the offered treat with hesitance and a shrug, but the underlying regret was visible before long.

“I hope you know my scoliosis doesn’t like you.”

Some people (4 or 5?) in the corner of the room, taking the Rice Purity test and comparing answers

Apparently the sole girl of the group had the worst score

A math teacher who doubled as the theater director had his yearbook picture taken in a ghillie suit

The ghillie suits had been gotten for the production of Little Shop of Horrors the year prior

“I love getting stepped on!”

Someone was complaining about how their hair looked bad. Our teacher just “Yeah, tell me about it,” gesturing to his own balding head

One of the freshmen band kids after graduation reverently whispering “You’re free” to every graduate they passed

For graduation, all of the people of the band and choir were wearing muted colors - whites, blacks, pale blues, soft floral patterns, etc. - and then we have one cackling flutist in fluorescent orange

“If Kim Kardashian doesn’t feel ashamed, neither should you” - the fucking valedictorian speech

It contained other golden moments such as “I got to work with some of these students due to my participation in The King and I,” (Note: he was the king) “and one of them said something profound that stuck with me. He beckoned me closer and made me lean down and he whispered in my ear… “yolo.” Now, according to Urban Dictionary, yolo is “a term that should have stopped being used five years ago and means You only live once””

He kept looping back to yolo. “What does yolo mean to you”

Next day some of us from the musical had been talking about that the next day. The collective statement was “Hudson. That was Hudson”

“We were the first class to take keystones, and the last generation to not get touchscreen laptops. What a time to be alive!”

The “corner crew” of Latin class (the people who had taken the Rice Purity test) decided to get a group picture with the teacher. One person in the group is my book-nerd friend who had been placed there by the teacher in an attempt to break up their antics (it didn’t work, they absorbed him, much to his exasperation). My friend is the smallest out of the group, so they decided to pick him up. The picture was taken with “Te Amo, Latin” written on the board behind them, my friend held aloft horizontally, and magistra slightly crouched in front of the group with an unsure smile.

The corner crew also had done a presentation on how Canada is just a government conspiracy and also the government is run by shape shifting lizards

“Did you really assign a project? Mr [Last name], I am appalled! There are four days left in school”

It was a 6 prompt essay. All prompts had to be answered with proper sources and everything.

That got a lot longer than intended, so I only covered the happenings of last year (still 6.5 pages of nearly 16)...

#long post #school #school shenanigans

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gfiedleredu207-blog · 5 years ago

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My Demonstration of Learning

The Core Learning Outcome I have chosen to demonstrate:

“My mastery of using technology to enhance personal productivity and professional practice”

I am excited to reflect on the plethora of techniques and information I have absorbed from this course regarding the implementation of technology in the modern classroom. I would like to specifically reflect on my personal mastery of the use of technology to enhance personal productivity and professional practice along with my summations of each unit. I will be discussing this learning outcome through the perspective as an educator. I will be summarizing my takeaway-ideas and topics from each of the six units we have completed in the course. I will be including supplementary charts, diagrams, Youtube videos and snapshots of assignments I have completed to support my discussion and provide a visual component to the blog post. This will be the longest post on this blog but will summarize every aspect of the course.

Unit 1- Constructivism and Connectivism, Rethinking teaching, and GenZ

My personal mastery of the use of technology to enhance personal productivity and professional practice through the information and implementation of both Constructivism and Connectivism styles of teaching will allow myself, as an educator the ability to rethink the way I will instruct my future students and how my GenZ students will learn.

Both constructivism and connectivism teaching-styles allow teachers to rethink about the structure of learning. It drives educators to challenge themselves by implementing different technology tools into their lessons to not replace but heighten the experience of both styles.

Unit 2- SAMR, Swimming Pool chart, Blooms Taxonomy

The second unit in the course discussed the SAMR model and its’ relationship and the usage of Bloom’s Taxonomy model. The acronym SAMR stands for “Substitution, Augmentation, Modification, and Redefinition”. All of which are different implementations of classroom technology. I have included a video discussing what exactly the SAMR model is along with an awesome chart of SAMR visualized as a swimming pool. Within each level, technology plays a role in how we are instructing our students. Its’ exposure differs in amount and method. From acting as a direct substitute with no functional change to instruction to allowing for the creation of new tasks, technology is demonstrated as a phenomenal tool that has the ability to improve and magnify lessons for out GenZ learners. This unit illustrated how implementing technology can provide a different redirection and exemplification of how we instruct. My personal mastery of the use of technology to enhance personal productivity and professional practice was enhanced after this lesson through the amazing models of the SAMR swimming pool and Bloom’s Taxonomy model.

The following is a Youtube Video about the SAMR Model:

youtube

SAMR Levels against Blooms Taxonomy Model

Unit 3-Using technology for assessment for/as/of learning, Formative assessment example/ assignment

Using technology as an assessment FOR learning: Also known as a formative assessment helps us understand where are students are in the learning process. Typically ungraded and are meant to provide immediate real-time feedback. (Clark, Avrith, 2017, p. 26)

Using technology as an assessment AS learning: Is also known as an ongoing assessment that students complete to reflect and monitor their progress. Students are asked to record their reflections which can be done using different technological platforms. This encourages students to think about their learning process, making their thinking visible, and this will also help students take responsibility for achieving their personal goals. Students are more likely to ask for and receive feedback from others. Thus, helping them critique their own work and giving them the ability to analyze and assess. (Clark, Avrith, 2017, p. 26)

Using technology as an assessment OF learning: Also known as “summative evaluation”. As educators we measure a student’s work against the predetermined learning criteria to see if they have demonstrated an understanding of the intended learning targets. Final products of students’ work can provide insight into their personal growth than an assessment based on multiple-choice questions ever could. (Clark, Avrith, 2017, p. 26)

I have provided the formative assessment I have created to demonstrate my understanding of an assessment being used for, as, and of learning. Upon completion of this unit and this assignment, I was able to complete firsthand an assessment that uses technology to enhance my practice along with my and my students’ personal productivity.

Unit 4- Tools for differentiation and demonstrations of learning

The following is a Youtube video about differentiated instruction:

youtube

-Differentiated learning and the concept of “grading growth”

Clark and Avrith say, “You grade growth! Evaluate their growth toward the learning target, not the fonts they used, the number of pages, the number of questions they got right or the mistakes they made along the way.”

When it comes to evaluating a student’s mental exploratory process, this statement is an excellent reference to that task. According to Clark and Avrith, it is important to make sure students are understanding the tasks they are meant to learn. It is also important that teachers are incorporating molded examples and lessons that surround students’ specific learning style. These intentions will ultimately assist in expanding learning growth (Clark, Avrith, 2017, p. 48). The amount of effort and time that goes in by the teacher along with the student themselves is just as important as the final evaluation and product. Providing students with the blueprint to learn, understand, and make mistakes are important steps when it comes to a students’ learning experience. There will come a point where as a teacher, we must grade a student based on the answers they are receiving. When a student can arrive to the correct production of a result or deduction it demonstrates that there is an understanding of the process towards that result.

An example of this would be completing math tests; a student can include as much work they felt is appropriate to show how they got to the answer they decided was correct. However, even if you’ve shown loads of work and computations, you will not get full points for a question if you did not come up with the correct answer. As a student, you may have completed the process correctly and demonstrated an understanding of the steps but if you do not come up with the right answer then full points can’t be rewarded. This is similar to the learning process. It’s fulfilling to finally lock down an understanding on a lesson. Mistakes and misunderstandings are important within any learning journey.

I agree that it is important to properly prepare our students for the challenges that await them as they progress through school and through their lives outside of school. It’s important for students to have the expectation that grades will not be determined solely on learning growth. When I was in lower-level schooling, I have memories of teachers that would provide assignments to their students and specifically address that a final evaluation would not be established by grading by correct answers. Rather, the progress and growth of the student’s knowledge of that subject. I had teachers who would establish final grades by combining graded assignments and ungraded evaluations of learning-growth and participation. To me, I agree with the idea shared by Clark and Avrith about “[grading] growth” (Clark, Avrith, 2017, p. 48). Based on personal experience, I feel that teachers who evaluate their classrooms in this manner receive a better and more wholesome evaluation of what their students have absorbed from the entirety of the teacher’s lessons. However, once correctness is established as an important part of learning a topic, teachers are going to be responsible for their students’ succession. It’s a realistic goal that teachers should instill in their students as early as possible.

Demonstrations of learning:

Collaborative learning is one of the biggest and most effective variations of a way to demonstrate learning. It is a very important tool to use amongst students as a teacher who hopes to create better writers. Being able to reflect and constructively critique each others’ work should be presented as an important aspect to the subject of language arts. At any age, being able to make sound judgement about the writing of others along with themselves will prove to be useful amongst other subjects. For all types of learners, I’m positive there is an approach for every teacher to try out when it comes down to trying to relay a central learning goal to their students.

Unit 5- 21st Century skills, 4 Cs, Collaborative research

The following is a Youtube video about 21st Century Skills and The Four Cs

youtube

The Four C’s act like a universal skeleton for how humans process and handle their choices, learning of new information, and actions they wish to enact. According to Peter E. Doolittle, director of Virginia Tech School of Education, “constructivism is a theory of learning that has roots in both philosophy and psychology...Divided into three broad categories: Cognitive Constructivism, Social Constructivism, and Radical Constructivism” (Doolittle, n.d.). This information supports the importance of the presence of demonstrating a constructivist pedagogy along the support of The Four Cs. It’s strikingly universal and to give this exposure to a student will provide lifelong practical and studious skills inside and outside of the classroom.

The following is a discussion I found super insightful post completion. It discusses the role of one device that can be implemented for student usage and its’ role in instruction of The Four C’s.

“Describe a technological resource that you plan to use for demonstrations of learning in your classroom and explain how it will help you teach 21st Century Skills.

A technological resource I plan to use as a demonstration of learning amongst my students would be the creation of podcasts or any other type of audio recording. The process of creating a podcast or an organized audio recording takes quite a bit of planning and collaborating. Especially if it is a project that involves a group of people. Upon completing my education in pedagogy, I hope to involve myself with instructing fourth or fifth grade students. By this time, our societies normalization of technology in the modern classroom will have reached an extravagant rate of involvement and growth. The availability of audio communication will be at an all-time high.

Exposing this tool to our younger audience of students will give them benefits that they can take into the entrance of the rest of their education and outside of school. Teaching my students how to create and communicate their own podcasts will lead them through The Four C’s; use critical thinking to construct ideas and concepts to discuss, communicate their ideas, collaborate with their peers during the production process, and dissect the curiosity had during their research and regarding the topics they wish to discuss. To give my students the ability to create and produce an intellectual and conversational discussion about a subject demonstrates a different type of scholarly maturity and also readily supports classroom learning objectives- Especially for the grade level they’re in.

There are two major processes when creating podcasts: the brainstorm of ideas that will be had during the primary creation process and then the production process of putting it together and broadcasting it to others that are ready to listen and provide feedback.”They can edit, add sound effects, and share [their production] with an authentic audience” (Clark and Avrith, 2017, p.56). It’s an excellent demonstration of learning due to the multi-faceted processes that take place in the creation of podcasts. “Creating recordings allows students to express their learning verbally...since they can hear their thinking, they can self-edit and make necessary changes on the spot (Clark and Avrith, 2017, p.56). I personally love listening to podcasts and have listened to them during various stages of my life, both in the classroom and out of the classroom. Supporting how much creativity and curiosity may be had by students ready to share their knowledge to the broadcasting scene.

This form of creative freedom will give students a different approach to expressing their understanding. Giving it a more personal and meaningful approach; Much different than the average paper-and-pencil approach. Any form of audio recording whether it be a clip of twenty seconds or minutes of an original podcast will effectively demonstrate learning through The Four C’s. Student podcasts allow for the amplification of their voices and of their learning. As teachers, we have the ability to “gain [insight] into our student’s thinking and understanding just by listening to their recordings” (Clark and Avrith, 2017, p.56). According to Jason Tomaszewski, Associate Editor of EducationWorld Newsletter, “[Since its initial utilization] teachers [have been raving] about the marketable skills students are learning as well as the practical benefits of podcasts in schools” (Tomaszewski, 2012).

15 collaborative tools for your classroom that are NOT Google:

https://shakeuplearning.com/blog/15-collaborative-tools-for-your-classroom-that-are-not-google/

Unit 6- Digital Citizenship,Media Literacy, Digital safety/privacy

This unit I found to be probably the most essential of the units we have had in the class so far. Discussing digital citizenship and safety has prioritized itself very highly since I’ve been in grade school. That’s definitely telling you something about how our classroom activities and technology morphed since then. The quote from our textbook really got me thinking about how important it is to not only educate our students about the benefits and use of technology but how important it is to preserve their sense of self and how they should not think less of the protection they should bear with them during every single use.

The quote states;

“[That] If we’re going to prepare our students for a technology rich future, we must expand the definition of what it means to be literate....We need to create a disruptive shift in how we, as educators define literacy. An important step toward accurately defining literacy is to think of our students as participants in a global society, rather than simply as learners.”

That last sentence really covers what I’d like to discuss as my sole takeaway from my reading and from participating in the learning assessment offered within the lecture material. “An important step toward accurately defining literacy is to think of our students as participants in a global society, rather than simply as learners.”

Everyone; students, teachers, CEOs, mothers, fathers, anyone that walks into a Starbucks with their laptop...we have all contributed to the internet in some way or another. This class so far has taught about how we as users can find healthy and beneficial ways to use technology and the internet to redefine how we learn and teach. This unit, the learning assessment in particular put into perspective that we as educators need to also assess the dangers and precautions we need to be addressing when it comes to putting our information and selves out into our global society. We simply can not define digital literacy and educate ourselves about what it is, we also need to define it by how it needs to be used and how we can use it in a way that still keeps us safe. How we can spot red flags and know when to seek for extra guidance when it comes to figuring out how to handle certain digital encounters and classroom-programs.

The three priorities highlights in the Common Sense Media report were as followed:

(1) [To] Make news and media literacy education a priority.

(2) [To] Model and encourage media balance in the classroom.

(3) [To] Empower upstanders with habits of mind.

We are in this day and age where, no matter the subject, if our students will be encountering any form of media or digital interface that requires the providing of their information or of their personal presence, we as educators need to take the extra step to provide some form of media literacy education. As stated in the video about digital citizenship, we may not be able to stop the actions of students from finding themselves facing unsavory digital situations (whether it be them finding something that breaks barriers of what is appropriate to a peer undergoing their own battle with cyber bullying) We should teach them to at least know how to spot the red flags.

That’s my final takeaway from how to handle digital safety for our students. Precaution is important to be taught but provision should be a higher priority. Provision being defined as the action of providing or supplying something for use. Let’s provide our students with the tools to handle those type of unsavory situations. We can’t be there all the time to protect them from what’s out there waiting to compromise their information and self-preservation. Let’s at least give them the know-how to handle it and try their best to prevent it from happening in the future.

Checkology/ AKA Fake News

The following is a video about the concept of Checkology and Fake News:

youtube

The concept of “fake news” is enormously prevalent to our current journalistic state in society. You can hop onto any social media platform and it is possible that half of the articles and information. And it’s not just social media, since fake news is defined as journalism or propaganda that consists of deliberate disinformation or hoaxes spread via traditional news media (this including both print and television broadcast) it’s fair to say fake news can be found everywhere. Therefore it’s important for our students to recognize and denounce fake news during their investigative journeys through the web.

And how are we gonna do this? We, as teachers will need to educate them about how to research credibility behind a source- This may mean understanding the connection between context clues or simply researching the credibility of the providing author or media platform. Fake news, junk news, psuedo-news, or hoax news- The contribution to news these days is becoming easier and easier as technology furthers its’ presence into society. access to what broadcasts out to the world. So it’s gonna be important to keep our students on their toes when it comes to denouncing what is true information and what are bushels of nonsense.

Digital Citizenship and Safety

The following is a Youtube video about the importance of digital citizenship in every school:

youtube

No matter the age group, we as teachers are responsible for the classroom/ school safety of our students. In some aspect; physical, mental, social- and especially digital. We are responsible for giving them the tools and know how about how to preserve their safety and when to recognize the red flags when that’s about to be compromised.

The internet is most certainly a big place. With the right methods, someone from other side of the world can invade and take advantage of your personal info once it’s shared onto the internet.

Nothing is ever truly temporary once it is shared on the internet- Which reaffirms how important practicing digital safety techniques with our students is going to prove to be vital. Once they are introduced about digital safety techniques in schools they’ll be able to bring those abilities outside of the classroom and into their everyday life. That is going to extra beneficial with the growing technology race of our society.

References:

Dolittle, P. E. (n.d.). Constructivism and Online Education. Retrieved from http://www.trainingshare.com/resources/doo2.htm

“Common Sense Education.” Common Sense Education | Digital Citizenship Curriculum & EdTech Reviews, www.commonsense.org/education/.

Stevens, Jaclyn. “The SAMR Swimming Pool: Erasing the Line by Jaclyn Stevens.” ThingLink, www.thinglink.com/scene/672615962238779393.

Clark, H., & Avrith, T. (2017). The Google infused classroom: A guidebook to making thinking visible and amplifying student voice. Irvine, CA: EdTechTeam Press.

Tomaszewski, J. (2012). Student Podcasts: 21st Century Skills Across the Curriculum. Retrieved from https://www.educationworld.com/a_tech/student-podcasts-expanding.shtml

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