#to fill in the gaps + reading through essays and stuff

[berryblu-soda]

getting into genshin via video essays bc i tasted blood (fnaf video essay) and wanted more

[silverlining-ships]

I'm deeply curious! You understand and analyse Jasper very well. Where did you start with this? I'm wanting to understand the characters of my f/os on a deeper level as well so I can be confident writing and drawing them, but it feels daunting when there's so much to cover and consider! Arcs, themes, motivations, connections to other characters, how they change... Is it just a matter of time/paying prolonged attention?

this is SUCH a fun ask, thank you for giving me the opportunity to go into this a bit!! character analysis is SO much fun to me, even outside of self shipping, so I'm so grateful for this!!

so disclaimer. I have engaged with steven universe specifically since it aired, which is probably too many years. this world and its mechanics are incredibly familiar to me just from how long I've played in this world. so it sometimes is partially a matter of time! but character analysis doesn't always need time, sometimes it just needs a bit of playing around! some of the things I do are:

wiki hopping:

this is SO much fun to me. I'll read a characters wiki until I hit something that makes me think wait... why is that? fandom wiki is always imperfect so no matter the character there are normally inconsistencies or things that just seem thrown in there

an example with Jasper is I was reading her wiki and reread the piece where it says she's implied to know how to pilot a Roaming Eye (piece of surveillance spacecraft) and was like. . . wait. I know she is a Quartz soldier, which are like ground level front line muscle in the caste system. so WHY would she know how to pilot SPACECRAFT?

so that's my question, and I'll hop around the wiki overall to try and find an answer! in this instance I refreshed a lot of my memory on the caste system, some of the other Jaspers, the spacecraft in the show.

sometimes I won't be able to find an answer - which is where I can use headcanons to fill in the gaps! I could go on and on about the conclusions I've reached with Jasper, but overall I feel as though she is a specially designed soldier made when the war was at a low point, and with her ground expertise and stellar record they pulled her into other necessary tasks during the war - like piloting!

essay writing:

no I'm not kidding and everyone who's reading this knows that. I LOVE building essays. no it doesn't have to be perfect grammatically sound text, but it can be so fun to start a text post posing a question/commenting on something you noticed from a character, and just. elaborating on it!

like for example, I have a text post somewhere where I pose the question that - if Jasper is so against fusion, and fusion is taboo in Homeworld, how did she know its functionality enough to initiate fusion with an entirely different Gem? and I just went through stuff. considering different scenes I've seen her in, the wiki, of course. it's a lot of rambling! but I feel the rambling helps draw you to a conclusion

engaging with the media itself:

one, our source media is always fun to come back to, so now you have another excuse!

two. . . you will always notice something new when you re-engage with the media. maybe the character reacted to a conflict in a way that you didn't really think about that much before. maybe you notice the character's physical expressions or the way they gesture.

engaging with the media also gives you a chance to really feel out a character arc as well. you can read the wiki all you want, but really diving into the source material helps you feel the pace that it was intended to go at.

other things to consider:

really when you're doing char analysis for fun you want to focus on what interests YOU specifically. for Jasper, I am consistently so so fascinated with who she was behind the screen and trying to figure out her history from the very little the show gave us, so I tend to analyze those things specifically and try and figure them out. always start with what YOU want to learn first and just. . . build it up from there!

"Arcs, themes, motivations, connections to other characters, how they change…" - these are all SUCH fun ways to explore a character, but which ones fascinate you the most? what do you love about your f/o, and then. . . why are they like that? why do they DO that thing you really like?

I hope this wasn't too rambly I love talking about char analysis hahaha

[summertimemusician]

Linktober Day 9

Deity

*sneezes after downing coffee* Well irl stuff got in the way so I'm way behind my original schedule for these and for Linktober but here we go with another arguably short one, fuelled purely by self indulgence, headcanons, spite against my linguist essays that kept me from keeping to schedule, severe sleep deprivation, a shout out to the Ender Lilies soundtrack and Majora's Mask soundtrack, and Nintendo for not clarifying anything about the lore so I'm snatching what I can and making it my own lol. Look, when you fíxate so much on details the Zelda team doesn't elaborate on you have to fill in the gaps with what you can.

As always can be read as romantic or platonic, technically in a LU context but not explicitly in it by itself.

The Lord of the Mountain liked hearing people sing.

In a way, it wasn’t a surprise, Hylia and the Golden Three each had their ballads and symphonies and minuets, each splendid and with cuts of their divinity in it, Farore was fond of lightning and forest alive minuets, and you could swear Farosh sparked just a bit brighter when one would him the beginnings of the Minuet of the Forest near their spring, Din was fond of boleros, fiery and alive and howling with the echo of flame touching earth that made a shine run through Dinraal’s scales, Nayru, in contrast, was much fonder of blizzard and river quiet serenades, the songs of contemplation at first snow ringing clear when Naydra curled around it’s spring, content to be free of Malice.

And of course Hylia had her ballads and lullabies, perfectly fitting to her display of divinity, of honey days and vast bird like wings, of ambered summers to come and to pass and dazzling solar storms of starlight and sunlight sparking through the human form of her descendants and heroes. So in a way, you weren’t surprised at all that the Lord of the Mountain – Satori, with a familiar touch of londsleite divinity, the hunt of the woodland beasts and diamondscar adoration for the Hero of the Wilds, similar in glory to the Light Spirits petrichor and vermeil fondness for the Hero of the Twilight – liked to listen to people sing. What you were surprised was how it attempted to follow along, it’s head across your lap the second you sat down in the clearing, a gentle hum on back of it’s throat, an owl’s cry and a cicada’s humming and faintly, chirring purring as presses it’s faces into your hands, a gentle request for petting.

It was adorable, even with the faint notes of the chill of clear spring water on winter and the livewire feeling of magic, like holding your hand too close to a flame but not quite touching it.

A low chuckle brushes against the back of your mind, a feeling like biting on ice, the prowl of a wild beast and the build up of lightning and light used to create his blade, the amused affection of a warrior reconvening with their brother in arms, you think you see the bone ivory of the Deity’s hair on the side of your vision, though you know he’s not physically there, ‘He likes you.’

You hum, gently patting behind it’s ears, pushing through the chill, gracefully not mentioning the burning with a smile at the mythic being’s faint chirring, birdsong and the wind through cherry blossoms that sparkle like rose quartz, “Well I quite like him too, I can see where it’s gentleness comes from.”

The ghost of a touch over your hair, the caress of lightning striking over your skin and the hair on the back of your neck pricking up and the crisp cold of winter, the chill of the ending and the flame of a new dawn, of new days, the phantom of magnolias and spring water on your tongue. The fragrance of pine, daffodils and blood soaked lilies on ashen fields on your senses, gentle and careful, marking but not claiming, ‘Only because it’s you, beloved. It’s not something easily given.’

You sigh, shakily composing yourself, you let yourself relax into the phantom sensation. Of hopes and dreams and healed suffering, of the divinity of hunt turned into protection and lightning given form, of tangled timelines and crystalized memories, “I know. It does not change my opinion, either way.”

To be the subject of a god’s care and regard was dangerous, after all. For the human and the deity in question, you know the stories from your world well, of the effects of Hylia on First and Sky, of Twilight and the personification of the Twilight Realm and the spirits of his land, of Wild and clawing from death’s embrace into that of the wilderness.

Knew how the fact the Fierce Deity’s mere proximity causing pain on those who changed him into hunting for hunt’s sake into protection for the sake of someone else cut deeper than even the ever encroaching entropy all beings must one day face. It was no wonder the Song of Healing was his creation, to want to ease the burden.

You gladly grant him some peace, in turn, even if it wasn’t much. It’s the least you can do, for always having his ways of watching over your heroes.

“Join me? We can make a duet.”

You feel more than see him shift, ephemeral, fleeting, gentle against the edges of your existence, as foreign to Hyrule as your own, sparking over your spine as you feel ozone and rust on your teeth. Satori is humming again to match the rumble of thunder in the man’s voice, the heralding of songs of war and elegies for the dead, ‘Of course, though I’m afraid I do not know many songs, besides…’

“It’s alright,”, you smile faintly, there’s a white ocarina in his hands, as he leans, a spectre against your side, “I’ll teach you some of my own, though you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t remember all the lyrics.”

‘It would be my honor to learn.’

You think he smiles, from the fluttering of something ancient and long forgotten against your side.

You sing to Satori and the Chain, a small respite of familiar and forgotten tunes, the Lord of the Mountain hums along. The Fierce Deity’s song cutting through any nightmares that may ail your heroes for another night.

When the dawn of a new day comes, the feeling of divinity against your skin feels just a bit more obvious, sinking into every crack of your being like a shroud, falling over your boys like a veil, reflecting the breath of eternity over Hyrule.

(First gives you a look that’s half exasperation, half understanding. Sky pointedly sticks to your side as Time looks you over, markings deep with vibrant color. You shrug with a helpless smile as you feel the lightest brushes of Hylia’s fond days of gold and starlit summers days against the Lord of the Mountains warm, luminous affection and the Fierce Deity’s smug, but content lonsdaleite smile.)

[dellcomics]

"It's a process of really digging, and I enjoy it."

Thirty years ago Mario, Jaime and Gilbert Hernandez created Love and Rockets. Known collectively as Los Bros Hernandez, their impact on the indie cartooning scene has been immeasurable, with their respective Love and Rockets serials, shorts and other work canonized by fans and critics as sacred texts. The reverence is well-earned, but Los Bros are also just like you and me -- they love comics.

During this 30th anniversary of Love and Rockets, I thought it might be fun for readers -- who might never have the chance, otherwise -- to get an idea of what it's like to go shopping for comics with Mario Hernandez. In July we asked longtime Love and Rockets publisher Gary Groth, head of Fantagraphics, for $50 and set to spending it at Comic-Con International in San Diego earlier this year. What follows is a photo essay of our comic book shopping spree.

Lassie No. 20 (1955)

I love experts; especially when their expertise dovetails with my own interests. Considering the narrow focus of those interests, I end up knowing a lot of people who know a lot about comics.

One of those people is Love and Rockets creator, Mario Hernandez. Mario shares my enthusiasm for titles published in the 1950s and '60s. These include, as brother Jaime says, "All of them..; Archie, Dennis the Menace, Marvel, DC, Harvey, Mad, Cracked, Gold Key, Dell, Tower, Warren, etc..."

Whenever I get the opportunity -- comic book conventions, mostly -- I like to tag along with Mario while he searches through the back-issue bins. I've been following him around for years now.

Dell Four Color No. 529 (1953)

1/2 price boxes in the $4 range are his hunting grounds today. Mario buys a lot of these comics just for the cover. "The insides might suck," he warns.

Mario's drawn my attention to many series I would have passed over and filled in many gaps in my knowledge of the great cartoonists who made them. He always seems to know which dealers to work with, and, of course, since Mario is so well-liked by everyone he always gets a bargain.

Finally, a good Tin Tin comic

Having had a peek at Jaime Hernandez's want-list before, I was anxious to read and photograph Mario's. He surprised me, though, by claiming to have no physical list. Instead, Mario claims to keep track of his collection mentally. Should he end up with doubles on an issue, it will be passed along to a friend or relation.

Classics Illustrated No. 146 (1958)

I know collectors can be pretty cagey about their lists, so it may be that Mario just didn't want to share his with us. It can be frustrating to see demand drive prices up on a collection you've been trying to complete. Of course, getting a look at a renowned collector's want-list can tell you what they want, but it doesn't tell you why.

TOPIX Vol. 09, No. 29 (1951)

"For three bucks, you're on a roll." - Mario Hernandez

Dell Four Color No. 1261 (1961), $2.00

One of the highlights of the day was finding this copy of Rawhide with Clint Eastwood's face carefully cut out. We were pretty excited and misidentified the art on page one as being Jesse Marsh (look at that cheekbone on that right-hand profile!). Marsh is best known for his Tarzan work, but also drew many westerns.

Afterwards, Mario sent this update: The art inside that book is Dan "The real freakin' man" Spiegle. Not Jesse Marsh but a great artist in his own right. He pretty much drew almost all the live-action Disney stuff for movies and TV.

HOT TIP: "They stick a lot old stuff in between the new stuff so I always look for the brown spines" - Mario Hernandez

My Romantic Adventures No. 134 (1963)

"They [romance cartoonists] would do them as jams. You could see a Mike Sekowsky panel, then inked by somebody else, and then the next panel's a Gil Kane panel so they used to pass these things around." - Mario Hernandez

"Since [Mario] was the comic book buyer in the house, whatever he brought home was looked at as something new if not always liked. The only kinds of comics we didn't read were romance comics, being five boys in the house for so many years and only later a little sister showing up." - Gilbert Hernandez

The Best of Dennis the Menace No. 21 (1964)

"I remember seeing one time... there was, in the next town, a used book store, and it would have a little ad in the newspaper that said 'old comics' -- or something like that -- '10 cents.' And I was like, 'I want to go to this place!'" - Mario Hernandez

Mario Hernandez and Lori Graham of Graham Crackers Comics, Chicago. "This lady is making me very happy today," said Mario. Graham Crackers has been exhibiting at San Diego's Comic-Con for over 20 years and plan to be back next summer.

Maybe next year I can follow collector Zack Carlson around for a while. This copy of Star-Studded Comics (1965) he found looks pretty good.

All of this and $14 change. I also got a copy of Classics Illustrated No. 85 (The Sea Wolf), but would trade it in a heartbeat for that issue of Lassie at left.

Digging through longboxes with one of the architects of alternative cartooning is a thrill every nerd should experience. If you ever get the chance, DON'T BLOW IT!

-Steven Weissman for Comics Alliance, 2014.

[centrally-unplanned]

Central, my new favorite internet homie, do you listen to Dan Carlin? I am listening to his 400 million hour segment on Japan leading up to, and into, WW2, and it is FASCINATING. Its on Hardcore History, and it is called Supernova in the East. I am absolutely blown away, learning all kinds of new shit. It seems right up your alley

I do not! Right now I am actually not listening to any history podcasts - not through choice, just inertia, I need o find more context.

Dan Carlin does seem pretty cool and I definitely think his work is good and pretty accurate, and I have listened to some of his stuff. My "issue" is that on a topic like Japan in World War Two, I am probably too high context for those podcast? I will know most everything they cover ^^ This is just one of my areas of specialty!

Part of my struggle with podcasts is that right now I kindof want to go deeper on my current areas, versus broader on new topics, which means you gotta find really specialized people making content on the niche stuff. Its hard, which is a bit of a gap for me because I don't have the reading budget I used to so audio content would be quite great, if it was designed well. I do find some academic lectures at times, I do have a few, its just a hard market to fill.

I certainly encourage everyone to study Japan's build-up to WW2, its an amazingly complex political, social, economic, and military history. A good reminder to finally write my essays on Japanese strategic decision-making ^^

(And I am glad you like my posts! I appreciate your questions, its nice to talk to internet friends <3)

[01-05-2001]

how are you so good at writing??? genuine question tho like what is your writing process or do you have any advice for someone trying to get more into/better at writing fiction?

hi anon!! thank you, this is so so sweet :3 i wouldn’t consider myself like. an authority on writing and i definitely think i have a lot to improve on, but here’s some advice i can offer up!

my general process for my oneshots is maybe unconventional? but it works for me.

a basic premise. eg, “oh, i want to write a caldre vibrator fic. how the hell is that going to work?” and figuring out how to get from point A to point B.

this is random, but it helps me keep track. at the top of all of my fics, i write this:

TITLE:

DESCRIPTION:

TAGS:

NOTES:

the title is usually left blank for a while. but the description is an incredibly short summary of the fic’s contents. tags helps me plan in advance for posting. the notes is just anything additional about their dynamic that i want to remind myself of. i find this really helpful to check back on every now and then.

bullet pointing key scenes of the fic. helps to have a writing buddy who can help you troubleshoot or bounce ideas off of!

under each bullet point, i write the scene out like a script, adding in notes about body language or general actions. i also copy paste in any little excerpts that come to me!

i find this the biggest step in avoiding writers block: blocking the entire scene helps keep the flow uninterrupted, helps me establish a pace, and helps to establish a strong tone in dialogue that i can then follow through in action and description. worst case scenario, i can just jump into the next line of dialogue and come back to fill in the gaps.

working top-down, i follow my script and fill in the gaps with action and description! this is obviously the hardest and lengthiest part, but that’s just the truth of it. i stick on some music or a video essay in the background and get to writing!

i usually end up working the start around, restructuring paragraphs until i find a flow.

Some general advice:

write what you enjoy. nothing will burn you out faster than trying to please everyone. it doesn’t matter if it’s cringe, or ooc, or whatever you think. write it if it makes you happy.

READ MORE - and REAL BOOKS (and poetry!). seriously. i notice the fastest improvement in my writing when i’m reading regularly. look at books you enjoy and ask: why do i like this? is it the themes, the characters? is it the writing style - the rhythm, dialogue, pacing? connecting with literature and developing analytical skills will seriously help so much. look at what you like and mirror it.

back to basics. especially with longer form stuff - use classic structures like three acts, freytag’s pyramid, etc. they are classics for a reason! learn the rules so you can know how to effectively break them. consider metaphors, flow, phonetics.

also, basic grammar and structure is non negotiable - walls of text or lack of punctuation will turn anyone off no matter how good the content is. i understand english isn’t everyone’s native language, but even a basic run through a spell or grammar checker online can make a world of difference.

on a more technical level:

variety is KEY. vary sentence length to keep a tight control over pacing, to control flow. read your sentences out loud to find the rhythm. try to keep from using the same structures or starters. sometimes i have to pull up another book to remind myself of different ways to open sentences when i’ve been staring at my writing for too long, lol

balancing description with succinctness is trial and error. IMO it’s better to be sparing than excessive. “purple prose” is hard to keep track of, and can feel like padding to a story. pacing is always, always key. remember, you CAN part with things: copy and paste little excerpts into a spare document. learn to delete!

understand the impact of intentional word choice. i love punchy verbs over wordy adverbials! but i also prefer to use descriptive phrases over niche words that readers won’t know. it’s about balance: complex language has its place, but using it intentionally is key. get a feel for a word’s nuance, otherwise your work can feel like Baby’s First Thesaurus. also, NEVER underestimate the impact of PHONETICS!!!

[sigmashuffle]

I have a question!! So I’m a long-time BSD enjoyer but I haven’t read nearly as much of the manga as I would like. I’ve seen all of the anime though, most of it multiple times through. I didn’t realize until looking at the comments on Danny Motta’s video at how much people fucking hate Fukuchi and his sword. Up until this point I’ve thought it’s cool as hell and he, along with the sword, bring something kinda new and fun to the series.

HOWEVER, I know BSD is FAR from perfect and there’s a lot of dumb shit that faithful manga readers have a better perspective on. Would you mind explaining why Fukuchi and the sword are such a sore point? I hope this isn’t too much to ask. I just really want to know.

Hi anon! Its not too much to ask at all!

Unfortunately the answer to that is best explained in the context of ALL the issues I have with the manga/show so... this is going to be v long... and im done giving this show more credit than it deserves but don't take it that seriously lol I hesitate to even consider my pov to be on par with the average manga reader but ig we'll see how my opinions hold up after i post

And disclaimer: I don't mind answering this but ONLY with the context that this is 100% my opinion (as of late, bsd as a whole has just been REALLY bugging me so im just gonna take this opportunity to explain my gripes since most of them apply to or tie greatly into fukuchi's character/design/motivations/development)

I simply don't want anyone to come for my head bc of anything I say here tho, bc I feel like I may disagree with a large portion of the fanbase but WITH THAT SAID...

***from this point forward there will be a few spoilers from s5e11***

Here are my gripes with BSD...

1. BSD and its "magic system"?

bsd powers suffer from what i like to call a "lack of scope"

granted this could be due to the fact the story isnt complete HOWEVER im sure any anime fan can tell you this story doesnt feel like it is leading anywhere its just... going... (ill get to the awful pacing later)

for comparison sake im going to also talk about The Case Study of Vanitas since it is the world I have the most experience in

what does BSD not have that VNC does?

simply put, the magic system doesnt reinvent itself character to character

in VNC if you have an ability it is EXCLUSIVELY connected to "manipulations of the world formula" which is essentially elemental control (fire, ice, gravity, etc.) based on a sci fi version of chemistry (alchemy, if you will) and this rule applies to EVERY CHARACTER in VNC

its a structure that starts developing from the beginning

BSD however introduces a WHOLE NEW magic system for each character

some character abilities are similar, yes, and can be classified as such, but many cannot be classified

again a magic system doesnt NEED to have strict rules (its actually more boring that way if the rules are too simple) but it DOES need RULES... and solid ones

otherwise its tempting to use the MAGIC system to fill in PLOT RELATED gaps

and if that system isnt defined, well, to me that looks like lazy/sloppy/illogical writing

if you like the whiplash of not knowing whats gonna happen next, fine, (i did for awhile too!) up until the unpredictability started to come from powers that as a whole look like an authors way of trying to write themselves out of their own plot hole

ie: time travel

specifically time travel that isnt introduced FROM THE BEGINNING...

2. Fukuchi and his "deus ex machina" sword

time travel is NOTORIOUSLY difficult to pull off and especially by my standards

I have watched Doctor Who since 2008, before I even knew what tumblr was I was doing my own solo fandom stuff (basically just watching a LOT of youtube video essays) but basically I have high standards when it comes to time travel in stories

Amenogozen has the POTENTIAL to be a great weapon if used in a logical context... but theres one thing the sword (and BSD as a whole) does not follow

RULES

time travel is TRICKY mostly bc it has consequences... in BSD fukuchi gives nothing in exchange for his powers

lets even toss time travel aside for the moment

what is Fukuchi's innate special ability? Mirror Lion... (read below)

its essentially an attack multiplier of x100 at CLOSE RANGE

lets say your average untrained human punch is 150psi (pounds per square inch) which is the pressure equivalent of a point 100m below the surface of the ocean...

with Mirror Lion's multiplier you get 15,000psi which would be 10,000m or 10 kilometers

a pressure equivalent to the deepest part of the ocean (i dont need to remind you how powerful water is... we all know about oceangate)

MY POINT IS HE'S OVERPOWERED AS FUCK

dont even get me started on his motivations too

im glad we got backstory for him in ep 11 and im sure we are just supposed to sum up his motivations into "he was willing to pay the high price for world peace" but tbh royally fuck that

dont TELL me thats what he believes

PROVE to me how you made that conclusion

also the only reason he even dies is becasue he wants fukuzawa to kill him... we dont have any sense of accomplishment for stopping his scheme because NOW the scheme has been PLOPPED right into fukuzawa's lap which fukuchi intended to do from the start... apparently

and this seemingly retroactive decision-making is a problem A LOT of bsd characters have, especially the one and only character i hate THE MOST... *drumroll*

3. Osamu fucking Dazai

oh boy...

I have thought long and hard about Dazai... im not going to lie, after ch109 and ep10 I was about to admit Dazai might actually have grown on me BUT

this was all erased after 6 minutes into ep11 when he was confirmed to indeed NOT be dead

Dazai just *knows* everything thats gonna happen

Chuuya was never a vamp... he knew this... and somehow his ENTIRE escape plan was just hinging on that? bc yknow... hE kNeW fRoM tHe bEgiNniNg

OSAMU DAZAI IS A PLOT DEVICE USED *ONLY* TO FILL IN NARRATIVE HOLES

HE IS A WAY TO FORCE PROGRESS ON A STORY WITHOUT EVER GIVING A REAL EXPLANATION

HIS CHARACTER IS AN INSULT TO INTELLIGENCE

His character is paper thin, with motivations that do not translate to his actions

and frankly... im tired of it...

additionally... if sigma doesn't survive, all of Meursault was literally useless... so why pick him for nikolai's prison break game?

even if he does, it means the ONLY thing we get out of the arc is information about fyodor... as to WHAT information, who knows... but regardless, a villain arc that has been going on for TOO GODDAMN LONG (40 chapters?) should have a resolution that isnt "i knew what was gonna happen all along"

we spent the whole time being SHOWN that fyodor and dazai were of equal intelligence levels... or at least higher than what dazai was used to dealing with

if dazai could just predict shit like this from the beginning why was fyodor a villain for so long? makes ZERO sense, dazai would've defeated him AGES ago... what makes THIS time any different?

also... why is he even suicidal? yeah ok the author was... but like... why make it such a present character trait?... so we can fake kill him over and over? idk

can you tell i dislike him?

4. THEORY vs PRACTICE

I am a "show dont tell" girlie

ALL BSD DOES IS "TELL TELL TELL" ...its infuriating

almost every power/special ability has an element of "trust me bro" ok SOME OF THEM DONT but most of them do

ie: atsushi is a tiger (what does that even mean), kenji gets strong when he's angry (ok hulk?), and THIS JUST IN we STILL don't know how fyodor's ability works... and now he's DEAD?... we also dont know almost any detail about sigma's ability and he might ALSO be dead

but thats only regarding abilities...

when it comes to writing stories using people of high intelligence it is VERY difficult to not get into the aforementioned "trust me bro" mindset which BSD does REPEATEDLY

im not listing off every example but off the top of my head is one scene from s4...

ranpo explains his plan for saving yosano loosely involved "replacing the engine [of an armored vehicle] with an electric motor and playing engine sounds over the speakers so no one noticed" ...and only i can pick this claim to shreds lol (i engineer electric vehicles for a living) but this is so wrong on so many levels...

Internal combustion engines and Electric motors are IN NO WAY EQUIVALENT

ranpo would never be able to power a vehicle the size of an armored truck with a motor that he installed an hour before the truck was put to use... he just wouldnt... the vehicle is too big... ugh *facepalm*

and dont even get me started on batteries...

MY POINT IS

if you want to write some *genius move* at least TRY to do some research to make the action believable

thats like saying "oh yeah i ran out of gas so a threw a couple AA batteries into my gas tank until i could make it to the station"

BUT THAT WOULDNT FLY BECAUSE MOST PEOPLE KNOW THATS NOT HOW CARS WORK

*sigh*

5. Manga Readers' POV

the.chapters.are.too.short

especially for a monthly released manga

i am relatively new to anime and manga... like late 2020, so I am part of the "new gen" I guess you could say so i know i dont have any right to complain about pacing in comparison to like... the dressrosa arc of One Piece

with that said, not enough in bsd BUILDS on itself

it all feels like a self "one-up"

its been too long since any of my large questions have been answered

honestly its rare that any of my questions are ever answered because the narrative rarely follows logical progression anyway and any scenes thats ARE useful are cut from the anime

characters do not *develop* their powers, they just simply ARE

whatever ability you are born with limits what you can do and thats that... which leads me to...

6. Types of Ability Users

the most coherent thing i think i can speak on so this will be short lol

there are 3 types... i think (excluding lightnovels, i have not read 15, Stormbringer, or any others)

(1) natural abilities (ones that can be nullified by dazai or stolen like in Dead Apple)

(2) human/god fusions (chuuya) -> but this can ALSO be nullified???

(3) when an ability isnt an ability (it CANT be nullified) -> ie: whatever the fuck Lovecraft is

Sigma -> ??? (he could be part of the natural ability category but like... it feels weird to put him there)

but... there is never a comparison between these types so im not even sure of this "list" is exhaustive

this is just another way the story is leaving open ways to dig itself out of a plot hole... which isnt fun... bc now there are no stakes... there are no rules... its disorganized chaos where anything can happen

everyone will always be fine because there is a way out of everything

and thats BORING... and for me, downright infuriating

fukuchi likely falls into the first category... but then again he's also using a tool from another ancient ability user... so does he even fit there?

7. Anime Adaptation

rushed

rushed

RUSHED

and i know why...

BSD is so thin on STABLE plot the story would feel like its dragging if Bones wasn't animating at the pace they are (see Manga Readers' POV)

so to try and counteract the feeling that nothing is happening they are cutting "irrelevant" scenes BUT ALSO important portions relevant ones (ie: aku's death)

do all the plot points from the manga happen? by definition, yes... but the nuance the manga has is lost almost entirely

Atsushi doesn't physically throw an injured Aku's arm over his shoulders... Aku doesn't smile upon his demise... Aku doesn't reach out through the fog of the fire extinguisher (the adaptation of this scene was personally my last straw)

and then we have the new anime content...

why did we tack on an additional fight? zero context... didn't even tie up loose ends from fukuchi like...

is sigma alive?

are chuuya/dazai/nikoali still in france? europe?

is fyodor going to return in some way? (we know nothing of his motives, ability, or MOST importantly, what information did he learn from Sigma??? his ability is an EXCHANGE so why even have that happen if they are both dead anyway?) why would you fucking kill off a character like this

WHAT WAS THE POINT OF THIS ENTIRE ARC??? The mere reason I'm asking this question is, in and of itself, unacceptable

we MAY get an answer later... but its been 20 episodes... why the fuck dont we know anything about the arc we just completed? ...ludicrous

Final Thoughts

BSD does not have enough reliable rules in its magic system to form a solid foundation of... anything

Fukuchi is a disjointed character trying to do too many things at once, he doesn't have solid motivations, and his arc provides more questions than it answers

Osamu Dazai is not a character... he is a plot device used like a saving throw in DND

BSD frequently insults my intelligence to cover it's ass in its storytelling

being a manga reader is like taking 30 days to rip off a tiny band aid... the pacing is unbearable

even with the end of fukuchi's arc now known, there was no sense of accomplishment in defeating him bc technically we didnt… he gave himself up... so the sword was just to make him overpowered... it was pointless

the anime adaptation was rushed, scenes cherry picked, and plot narratively thinned into water... there was no depth this season

In my opinion...

There are very few redeeming characteristics about BSD now

The few meaningful scenes we do get in the manga are overwritten by later context that negates any emotion initially associated with the scene

even with the end of fukuchi's arc now known, there was no sense of accomplishment in defeating him bc technically we didnt... he gave himself up

Dazai is the worst written character I have ever read

It is very likely i drop this story entirely

If I seem salty/upset/etc. its because I am. However is NOT directed at you, it is simply a manifestation of my disappointment in this story.

...

And there you have my opinion... in way too many words... thanks for sticking around if you made it this far im impressed bc i am salty as hell lol

fin

[thefinalcinderella]

As always thank you for the tsurune novel translation!

Btw have you finished reading the 3rd book or are you still reading while translating? I'm curious as what are your thoughts so far about the 3rd book? I personally think the 3rd book is really too jarring with the prior books and I wonder why. In addition to the sudden surge of new characters, I really can't tell where the plot is going nor what the author is actually aiming for or the focus of the book, which I can tell easily in the previous books. I also find it hard following the jumping train of thoughts in all the chapters so far, it's like every new plot is jumbled up and one storyline isn't even finished before it jumps to a whole new arc. Idk if it's just me who feels that way or not...or if this style of writing will continue to the end of the book so I'm curious to know what you thought as the translator. Thanks!

You basically summarized my thoughts on this novel! Honestly when I read the synopsis I was like "...so what's the book about?" and while slice of life novels can get away with having a loose plot, I feel like there should still be an arc or something like that. Tbh the author has a tendency to randomly jump topics or scenes in the earlier books as well, but it's a lot worse in this book.

My personal theory is that the author was compelled to put this book out in conjunction with the movie and S2. The publisher probably wanted to repeat their Violet Evergarden success, considering how the novels got a big boost with the release of the anime and movies. There's such a big gap between this book and v2 that I got the feeling that they didn't plan to write book 3 (I feel like book 2 had a somewhat open but satisfying ending). Tbh as I translated the novel I got the feeling that the author had no idea how to fill up 200+ pages bc they couldn't think of a plot so they put a lot of random stuff in the book and wrote them in a vignette-style, so you got chapters made up of separate scenes that are only tangentially related. Idk how to explain it but it feels like when I'm trying to bullshit my way through a 10 page essay and I don't have a lot of coherent arguments, so I just try to write a big single paragraph on each page so that I'm at least reaching the page count. I think adding so many new characters was also a way to fill up pages, although it's all moot if you don't use them well. Having Minato and the others jump all the way ahead to their second year (v2 ended in summer of their first year so it's a pretty big jump) was probably a way to justify introducing new students.

I haven't really read ahead, but I do know some of the scenes that happen later in the novel and they are just as random as the earlier scenes imo. I think the novel would have read better if it was structured more like a short story collection. It pretty much is one anyways and I feel like there's a lot of characters from the previous book that could have their own spotlight, and we could see the characters' pasts or something like that.

Anyways I hope if there is ever a book 4, the author would be given the time and help that they need to plot it well.

[antigonewinchester]

from Shelved by Genre, episode "The Claw of Conciliator - Part 3," ~3:26:50 - 3:30:52

CAMERON At the end of the day, I think, The Book of the New Sun has a couple ideas in its final calculation that I-- that don't sit well with me, and they are final biases, right, they are things that Wolfe himself seemed to not complicate in the last moment, and one of them, I think we should think about really seriously over the next two books of reading is 'what is the proper human?' Because Jonas is a cool guy, I'm not sure that the book sees him as a proper human. MICHAEL Right. AUSTIN Even though-- CAMERON And certainly not Jolenta. AUSTIN And this is the thing that's interesting, right, is that like you the reader in 2023, me the reader in 2023, part of the appeal of Jolenta, part of the appeal of Agilus, is the friction with the parts of the book that see no places for them. Or that want to dehumanize or villify them. Part of the appeal of Jolenta for me is that I want to carve the space out for her in the work that the work fails to carve out, which is a technique trained to me by our current moment of being a reader. This is a part of being a reader in 2023, is thinking, 'What is the-- if I could change the work, if I could create a fanfic of this work, what would I do here?' And that makes a lot of work much more consumable, and it let's me-- it lets it go down a little easier, when you read in such a way, when you finish the work for the writer. Which-- you know, in some cases I think is a valuable, useful technique, you have to get through the world somehow. In other ways I think in our current moment is often used as a way of not needing to fully engage with ideas because you know your audience will finish it for you. You know, I think the very-- the worst way of doing this is, or the least developed way of talking about this, is classic 2010 era tumblr essays about queerbaiting or something. But I do think the way in which you do see something like Marvel saying, "This is our first-- the first gay couple in the Marvel movies" without ever giving anything like, attention being paid to that relationship, is leverage, or almost weaponizing the desire to fill in the blanks by yourself, and the ability that we've trained ourselves as a culture of readers to fill in those blanks for ourselves, to therefore be able to, to get butts in seats. And I don't think that's what Gene is doing here. Gene is not involved in that. But my point is that I-- as readers in 2023, that is part of where that strategy comes from, you know? MICHAEL Yeah, the Marvel films stumbled on that as a strategy, right. [AUSTIN: Oh, big time.] They recognized that fan communities do that by their-- you know, by the history that they have, that's a part of fan communities and so they leaned into it. Gene Wolfe think that's a part language, right, that's such an inherent part of storytelling that this is a book that is full of gaps that you were intended to engage with, think through, the whole thing is about paradox in some ways, beginnings and endings, a world that's about to be born and is born but is not quite here yet, all that kind of stuff. And so it's even more natural here, I think, to do the work of thinking through, 'well what does it mean to be Jolenta is this world?' or whatever. I think in the last, you know-- when we look at the book schematically, when you're done with The Book of the New Sun, I think it will be very clear what was thought of here and what was not. And I think that Jolenta and Jonas are going to be really fruitful examples to think about when all the cards are on the table.

[whoviandoodler]

It CANNOT be overstated how pretty the illustrations in Here and Queer by Rowan Ellis are. ABSOLUTELY adorable.

The book itself is really comprehensive and doesn't drag on when dragging on isn't necessary. It really reminds me, in a positive way, of this book that I got as a pre-teen where they helped you through 'girlhood' (alas, only for people with breasts and vaginas) that meant the world to me then, but this book is truly for ALL girl. Concise, clear, easy to read even if you have attention issues because of all the drawings and lists and bolding in the text.

At 19 as a person who's been involved in queer stuff for around 5/6 years, I feel a little bit too old for some of it, but regardless of your age, if you are new to/interested in queer issues, history and how-tos of being a queer girl (or being queer in general! I would recommend it to all queers tbh, it's a good read), or if you're like me and wish to fill in some gaps here and there (and read a few amazing essays!), consider picking it up!

The author is on Tumblr (as queer people do): @rowanellis and she has a YouTube channel, if you aren't familiar with it, where she creates amazing video essays (I won't post a link bcs Tumblr but just type in Rowan Ellis into the search bar and she'll pop up). Consider checking her out too!

[thecoramaria]

Thank you for your videos! I started watching because I wanted to write fanfiction but never did any creative writing. I did essays. But that's for school. How to hone your writing skills? How to progressively get better? Any writers on websites to follow, videos like YouTube etc. Any courses to take on how to write ? I'm ready 📝

Aww thank-you, Nonny~! 🥰

The main course I did to learn how to write 👉 bachelor degree 🤪 It didn't teach me how to write better fanfiction, but it did teach me enough about the publishing industry for me to see how fanfiction as a medium differs from published fiction and what gaps regular writing advice isn't filling. (Context! Yay!)

In all seriousness, the best stuff I learned about writing was from reading hundreds of blogposts and watching hundreds of videos ever since high school. Holly Lisle's blog and email list was a favourite of mine back then, and now it's Mythcreants.com, because they have a critical, intersectional approach to storytelling that cuts through most of the industry fluff. (Seriously, just read their take-down of the 'Save the Cat' formula.)

In terms of YouTubers, some of my favourites include Abbie Emmons, Hello Future Me, Reedsy, and Jenna Moreci. (I just realised that there isn't a whole lotta diversity, especially race-wise, in this bunch, so that's something for me to improve.)

These other two sources aren't exactly general writing resources but they have been important perspectives on my fanfiction journey: @writingwithcolor and Stitch's Media Mix. Part of improving fanfiction isn't just about improving pacing, plotting, and prose, but also representation. These two resources focus mainly on race, but there are a wealth of resources by people of various minorities offering advice on how to better represent people like them.

The main caution I'd like to give in regards to most of these resources is that they assume that your goal is to get published, and thus their goal is to teach you how to write something that's sellable, something you can pitch to agents, something you can market to a sizeable enough niche. I cannot stress enough how pervasive this assumption is, to the point where we're conditioned to believe that fanfiction can only ever be a stepping stone towards getting published.

If your goal is to write fanfiction, then you need to treat the advice any professionals offer... as a sundae bar. 🍨 Take what works for your story, for the fanfiction medium in general, and leave the rest. Critically examine all professional writing advice through the lense of a hobbiest.

(Side Note: If you decide that you do want to be published someday, that's totally okay! This ask was specifically about fanfiction so that's why I'm centring that.)

I think the only way to keep getting incrementally better at writing fanfiction is to think of a story you love so much that you're willing to learn whatever you can to write it. It's about putting passion and personal fulfilment first and whatever is considered "good writing" (usually defined by whatever's profitable) as a close second. We fic-writers and readers live for the indulgent nature of these stories. As long as you're writing and having fun (and improving your craft because it's fun), I think you're gonna smash out some great fics!

Thanks again for your ask, Nonny~! 💖

[phykios]

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!

1)

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. 

2)

“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.

3)

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. 

4) 

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.”

5)

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.

+1

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. 

[kithmet]

hi! i read your beautiful fic after nickelodeonhottub recommended it over on her blog, and just can't stop thinking about how well you managed to write/develop dream and george's characterization. she mentioned that you used astrology to kind of influence your writing, and i wanted to ask your opinion about dream and/or george's charts...i'm fascinated with the way you described them and would love if you could explain some of your thought process about their personalities/charts

Hi, anon, thank you for the sweet message! This is a fantastic question to be asked, especially if you enjoy talking about astrology and Dream and George as much as I do — but I fear you didn't know that I am neurotic as hell and am going to respond with a full-on essay. So, uh, sorry for that. 

Preemptive warning that this post is my own personal thoughts, heavy on the speculation (and while I do believe in my takes, I’m not saying you have to), and some dashes of truthing. Here goes, under the cut.

Before getting into the astrology part of it all, I need to put this out there, first and foremost: a lot of my characterization in this fic had to do with the fact that I had consumed all public information about these two beforehand. If you like Dream and George and follow them and went back in the time machine of their history from 2019 onwards (and listened close enough to stories they tell in recent years about how they were before that), I feel like it’s easy to come to personal conclusions off of watching them, seeing how they act (both individually and together, and also with their friends compared to one another), and also how much they have changed (once again, individually and together). My friends aren’t into astrology and we discuss them all the time; they don’t need astrology to ‘get it’ or read between the (very obvious) lines.

But, having knowledge of astrology and birth charts and synastry does make it easy to fill in the gaps, to understand them on a deeper level, beyond what they give to fans. I love learning about people, especially through their charts, so naturally I took several looks.

In terms of characterization, Dream is straightforward for me. I pay close attention to everything he says and does, so all the details that he offers up whilst talking about himself and his life, even the way he lies. That man loves to talk. It makes understanding him easier, even though he hides parts (which he is fully entitled to). Seeing how much he’s evolved as a person in only a year is really fascinating; the ways in which he handles controversies, criticism, his fanbase, his haters, his career, how he speaks about his struggles (then and now), how he talks about subjects like politics or internalized homophobia, all of his pastebin posts and the countless podcasts, how he talks about school, how he’s spoken about his family and friends. He’s interesting, and pretty open. 

The stuff he’s not open about, or that he evades — well, that’s where astrology would come into play, to help figuring things out. I literally cannot go into every single detail in his chart, I would be here forever, but quick notes: Leo sun, Leo mercury, Aquarius rising (the self, communication, how one comes across to others): so, he’s passionate as hell (once again, easy to see for anyone with eyes and ears), bit of a god complex whilst still deeply insecure and desiring of external validation. Virgo moon and venus (emotions, love): perceptive, loyal, loves to overthink, constantly aiming to be the best possible version of themselves, pushing through the tough shit to get things done. Scorpio mars (energy, sensuality): an all-consuming lover, obsessive, intense, emotional, wants to know every fucking thing about the people around them, especially their love interest. Possessive, too. 

Characterizing George is tougher, because he’s more private than Dream. It’s why people often get him wrong, or misunderstand him and his intentions — and, well, I know not everyone aims for pseudo-realism when writing RPF, but I kind of do. I like reading much-too-realistic fic; it’s my favourite. George might not like to give up personal information, at least not in the public sphere, and he’s a bit harder to understand. He prefers it that way, which I respect. A bit cryptic, isn’t he? A bit of a chaos king. A menace. 

But, I see through him. Sorry, buddy. Love you, but your chart is such a tattle-tale. Also, the fact that every single friend that talks about George uses the word ‘kind’ and ‘easy-going’ to describe him when he’s such an instigator and sarcastic bastard (/pos) on stream is pretty fucking funny. He cares a lot, about all of his loved ones — but with Dream, he’s on an entirely different level.

Scorpio sun and mercury: he’s intense, very emotional, but he tries to hide it. He doesn’t want just anyone to know about his deepest, darkest feelings and thoughts — he needs to really trust that a person won’t hurt him before he lets them in, fully. A lot of this is probably why he’s so private, too, but why all his friends still know (parts of) his true self — he lets them in, at least as much as he can. Cancer moon: he is a sweetheart. An angel. A bit of a manipulative fuck (lmfao, and this goes for the Scorpio aspects as well), but that’s not a bad thing! He’s very shameless and obvious about it at least. Libra venus: he gets a lot of friendly and romantic attention, as he should, and he loves it. Thrives in it. Virgo mars: uh, how do I say this lightly? Kind of a freak. Kind of wants to know everything about their lover to the point that they will perfect whatever it is they’re doing. (Every single person I’ve spoken to that has a Virgo mars and every astrologer that I follow that talks about this placement says one thing: they are freaky. In terms of uh. Y’know. Stuff.)

Honestly, with his chart in mind, it’s easy to see the parts of George that slip through the cracks, and also the part that he plays off as jokes but actually means deep-down.

Together, Dream and George share a lot of traits. Deep-rooted loyalty to those that have earned it, obsessive and possessive, intense and passionate, the desire to know every part of one another, mutual jealousy. A lot of caring, between them both, a lot of kindness between them (and for others). An understanding of one another that people might not get, but I think for them, they enjoy those parts of each other? Like, the jealousy, the obsession, the possessiveness... I think they can recognize these things in each other and appreciate them, see the value in them, rather than believe it is bad for their relationship (whatever their relationship may be). They know parts of each other others don’t. And also: I think they can see through each other pretty easily. The things that they hide, the stuff that they might repress, the stuff that they might not find easy to say directly, et cetera. That’s basically why I wrote this entire fic, to be honest.

I didn’t even get into the fact that they have Mars-Venus conjunct (what the hell, why is it like that), the Lilith-Sun aspect whatever the fuck that is (it’s a lot, just Google it), the specific house overlays, the Plutonian extremities, the shared Scorpio and Virgo planets in their charts. These bitches are obsessed with each other on another level, and that’s especially George (though Dream a lot too, but he’s more outright about it). Dream is not a Scorpio, so he doesn’t try to hide it the way George does, but I mean... George is pretty obvious, though he doesn’t intend to be. Listen to the man in any stream. He’s obsessed with Dream, jfc. He cannot shut up about him; he relates everything back to the man (his height, the colour green, his name(s), even his star sign, anything Dream has said or mentioned ever). He wants Dream’s approval for everything he does, to know everything he does, to know every part of Dream (and I bet this is why it drives him so fucking crazy not knowing what he looks like, yet). He just... deeply loves Dream lol, and that is evident. Especially if you have the context of his chart and their synastry, it’s easy to understand why. 

I mean, they are best friends. But there’s a lot of potential for more in their charts. We have been watching their story unfold for months, years for others, so we know better than anyone that these two are flirty as hell and have romantic undertones and overtones and every-tone-ever in all aspects of their ~friendship~, so we can see they’re blurring the lines. Do they have limits? Boundaries? No. Do they want them? Also no. Kind of crazy. 

This is also why I wrote this fic this way. They’re constantly pushing boundaries with each other, and their sexual tension is otherworldly, so I wanted to explore a world where they continue to push and push and push until they finally give up. Also, it was fun to write it at this specific point in time, where I find they seem to be very comfortable with their relationship (once again, whatever it is. Only they know.).

Final comments... uh, basically I wrote them that way because I observed them closely and then used astrology to figure out the not-so-obvious parts. Obviously my word is not God, I could be wrong on a lot of it, but astrology doesn’t lie if you believe in it (which I do, and have since I started studying it 2016). Also, Dream is the craziest bitch in existence for giving fans his full birth chart with time. I love him for it. The end.

[feelingofcontent]

DNP Rewatch: How To Survive Exams

Date video was published: 05/28/2016 (X)

DNP Main Channel Rewatch: 308

This is the one video Dan filmed during TATINOF USA. All of early May was filled with more tour adventures; here are some highlights: pancake cupcake, wizard cab drivers, bugs...eww, no idea, fancy carpet, White House, emotional Dan, more cab drivers, and sarcastic aesthetic walls.

For videos like this, he usually he frames it as “how not...” so this is a rare one framed with positive wording.

0:00 - great start. Also love the Gatorland hat in the background

0:08 - just scribbling violent circles there

0:10 - just...holding a wad of toilet paper

0:27 - “survived...mostly” that seems about right

0:39 - I love that they started referencing “protip” themselves after that Crafts video 😂

0:49 - Dan can’t even imagine that someone would actually do that

1:11 - a good environment is something he talks about for mental health in general later on, including in YWGTTN

1:31 - that is not a very “Dan” tie; I wonder who he borrowed it from or if he bought it as a prop specifically for this

1:32 - I can’t tell if he added the notification sounds in editing, or if Phil is both holding the camera and texting him at the same time so his phone goes off

1:47 - that’s a good tip actually, and how I used to manage to get through essays

2:02 - “mute your grandma on Facebook” as a reward lol

2:12 - very specific indeed...did not need to know what Dan rewards himself with 😳

2:29 - some of this is very loud for hotel room filming...

2:38 - 😂😂😂 self-aware Dan there thinking about actually filming that cut-away. Props to Phil for not bursting into laughter while filming

2:47 - got both the Steve/Bucky and Sherlock/John mentions in this video

2:57 - using what limited ‘props’ he has

3:03 - he really did memorize some Mt. Vesuvius facts for this haha

3:08 - why would you flush the toilet while still sitting on it?!

3:15 - more hotel room screaming

3:29 - this is so funny but also smart if that worked for him! I wonder if he still remembered the same tune he actually used

3:37 - the dance moves really add to it

3:43 - bully/”cool kid” represented with the really short tie which both DNP do with skits about school stuff

3:49 - really using every angle of that hotel room for this

3:51 - looking down here; I wonder if he was reading off his lap

4:10 - truth

4:29 - “too close to being actually helpful” he is giving a lot more real advice in this one than in other videos of this format...self-aware Dan

4:35 - nice little annotation additions there

5:01 - it bothers me that he didn’t take the little label off the front of the notebook

5:15 - always shirtless in the bed/sleeping skits from the very start of his channel

5:25 - ahahaha at the blurring out

5:44 - urgh, that looks like it would lead to paper cuts in your mouth, yikes

6:03 - wonder if that’s the psychology paper he re-took during his gap year that he needed to get into uni

6:31 - they (or at least Dan) still didn’t seem to feel secure in their careers at this point

This is a good classic Dan type video. I’m impressed that he managed to film so many cut-away skits in a single hotel room!

I think there was some controversy around this video for some reason? Because people thought Dan had already done enough “school” videos or he was too old to be giving school advice? Though I may be remembering wrong (am I thinking of the University video later?)...someone let me know if you remember more. I don’t really understand why; the majority of his audience was still in school at this point, so it seems like it would have been relevant.

[mediocre-writerr]

grow as we go [toni shalifoe]

toni shalifoe x reader

requested: Hello! I was wondering if you could do a Toni x reader before the island. Where the reader is Martha's older sister and she moved out a few years back but when her mom lets her know about the trial and stuff comes back immediately and finds Toni living there. And when they were kids Toni always had a crush on the reader and know that she's older it has just gotten stronger

*not my gif*

The younger girls’ laughter filled the bedroom next door. You squished your pillow over your face, before slamming it down next to you.

You stripped the blankets off of you and headed straight towards the noise. You knocked on the door before opening it, “Marty, Toni, I love you both dearly, but please go to bed. I have a big test tomorrow and I need you to go to bed.”

“What’s so important about tests anyway?” Toni shot back, crossing her arms.

“You’ll find out once you become a sophomore in high school. So please...goodnight girls.” you said and they answered in unison.

“Goodnight Y/N.”

“Your sister’s hot.” Toni said bluntly.

Marty smacked her arm, “Ew stop! She’s so old! She’s 15 and we’re 12! That’s like dating your grandma!”

The two giggled like school girl children. Well they were, but Toni couldn’t stop getting you out of her mind. Which was weird, she never felt this way about anyone before. Like she wants to kiss Y/N.

Eww cooties!!! Toni thought before shrugging off the idea.

“I just don’t understand why people decide to eat meat? It’s literally killing animals.” Martha began.

We were waiting for her mom to pick us up from school, “Because meat is good. It’s literally heaven on Earth,” but she became at lost for words when she turned her head to see Y/N. All of the girls just a tad older now, you about to leave for college and then about to go into high school, “Actually that’s heaven on Earth.”

Marty finally looked up at who you were staring at, wide-eyed, “Shut up Toni! That’s my sister!”

She raised her hands up in defense, “I can’t help it!”You smiled at the two younger girls as you arrived to the spot they were sitting and waiting, “Hello beautiful.” she flirted.

You playfully rolled your eyes, “Hi Toni, Marty. How was your guy’s day?”

“It was good.” Marty said with a smile at her older sister.

“Better now that you’re here.” Toni flirted yet again and you just laughed.

She always flirted with you as time grew older. Once Toni discovered that she was only into girls, she did not hesitate to flirt with you on a daily. Especially when she realized that you liked girls and boys. It’s not that you didn’t like it, but you about to graduate and her about to enter high school was enough for you to be a little weirded out about the tiny age gap.

It was the night before you were about to leave for college and your family decided to have a little family game night, plus Toni of course. Both Marty and Toni were fighting over who was gonna be your teammate in the game, like always.

“She’s my sister!” Martha yelled, pulling at your arm.

“She’s my wife!” Toni yelled back and your sister dropped her arms, raising them up in defense.

“Yeah, you win.” she mumbled before placing a seat back on the couch.

You looked at Toni with a small smile on your face, before running your fingers through your hair, “You know I’m too old for you, right Toni?” there were a few minutes of silence and you nodded approvingly, until she said, “Yeah, but I’m in it for the long run.”

She smiled at you with her big cheeky smile and you pushed her slightly before ruffling her hair.

“Did you unload everything?” your mom asked as you looked into them empty trunk of the car. The airport terminal not too far away.

You nodded with a sad smile. Your dad rushed towards you, holding you in a big tight hug. Tears threatening to spill as we hugs tighter, “Stay safe, okay?”

“Of course Dad.” you then went over to your mom and gave her a huge hug while she cried into your shoulder, “I love you.” you whisper.

“I love you too.” she says back, sniffiling in the process.

Marty throws her arms around you and you could feel the tears hit the crook of you neck, “You gonna be okay?” you ask softly and all she did was nod, unable to say anything else, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

And lastly there was Toni, who stood there awkwardly with a sad smile on her face.

“Get over here.” you say, nodding your head towards you, opening your arms wide. She throws herself into your arms just like Marty did. You hold her tight, burrying your face in her hair, “You take care of her for me, okay?”

“I will, I promise.”

The next four years of college was a blast. All of the parties, but really also all of the self-growth you learn along the way. You’ve been with a few guys and a couple girls, but all of the relationships seemed to fail. Like something was missing.

You were up late one night writing an essay, when my phone started ringing, “Hello?” I asked, whispering, not wanting to wake my friends up.

“Hey sweetheart.” your mom’s voice echoed throughout your ear.

You smiled softly, “Hey Mom, what’s up?”

“It’s about your sister,” your mom drew out and you immediately tensed up in your seat, waiting for her to answer, “She’s involved in a trial with her old physical therapist, from when she broke her bone, Dr. Ted.”

“A trial for what?” you asked, hoping and praying it’s not what you think.

Your mom sighed, her voice getting all chocked up, “There’s a bunch of accusations being made by hundreds of girls that he helped for sexual assault.”

Your heart dropped at what she said, you put your elbows on your desk, before rubbing your face with your hands, “I’ll be on the first flight home.”

You got back to Minnesota late at night. Almost midnight and the drive back to your house wasn’t the most pleasant, but all you thought about was getting home to Marty. She needs her older sister more than anything.

When you got home, you didn’t bother saying hello to your parents because they were fast asleep. You tiptoed through the halls and into your old bedroom, putting all the luggages next to the window. From the room next door, you could hear small laughter coming from inside.

The door was slightly opened, so you pushed on it a little more. You saw an older Toni and Martha messing and joking around with one another. You crossed your arms around your chest before leaning against the doorframe.

“I guess some things never change huh?” you questioned and the girls’ heads snapped towards yours.

“Y/N!” Marty yells, jumping from off her bed and towards you. But not before stepping on Toni’s body in the process.

“Ouch!” Toni screamed which caused you to let out a smal little laugh.

She embraced you in a hug and you just held her tighter, “What are you doing here?”

You shrugged, “I just wanted to visit for a bit.”

Toni gets up from off the mattress on the floor. And you notice a bunch of other clothes that belonged to her in Martha’s room.

“You live here now?” you asked, raising your eyebrow up.

She just nodded, “Yeah sorry about that. You’re probably stuck with me for awhile longer, not that I’m complaining.” she teased and you smiled.

“You grew up to beautiful Toni.” you said and the same smile you had, matched onto her face. You gave her a hug, holding her close, “It’s good to see you again. I’m gonna head to bed. Goodnight.”

As you closed the door. Toni opened her mouth just as wide as her eyes were, looking at Martha. She let out a small chuckle shaking her head.

“You are not going to date my sister.” she pointed out.

“I’d be your sister in law Marty. You should be happy.” she exclaimed, falling back onto the mattress with a dreamy look in her eye.

Marty just hummed in response, turning off the lights.

At around 2 in the morning, you heard muffled cries and sobs come from the room next door. You shot out of bed, heading straight to her room. To find your little sister crying in Toni’s arms. You didn’t say anything, but rather tilted your head in concern. Toni read your mind and just nodded.

You say on the mattress that laid on the floor, keeping the two of them company while she started to fall asleep and calm down. Toni laid Martha down softly before coming to plop down next to you.

“I tried protecting her Y/N.” Toni whispered and you nodded.

“I don’t blame you for this. We were both here when it happened. Neither of us could’ve known.” you explained, shaking your head, “You wanna know what I learned about you?”

“Oh no.” she mumbled before listening politely.

You let out a soft chuckle, “That you are the best friend anyone could ever ask for. Maybe it’s because you didn’t have the best family life. Or maybe it’s because you’ve never felt that kind of love, but it gave you the greatest quality of being the best friend that I have ever seen.”

“She’s my only family, I need to protect her.” Toni said with a shrug. You could feel her pinky inching closer to yours and you didn’t hesitate to move it closer either. She wrapped her hand around yours, the fingers falling into place with one another.

You tilted your head to the side, “And what about me?”

“I like you Y/N. I always have. No matter who I had a silly little crush on or actually dated. It was always you.” she whispered.

She stared at you in anticipation and you nodded with a smile, “I like you too.”

“So what does this mean?” Toni asked, your faces growing closer by the second.

“We’ll play the long game,” you tucked her hair behind her ear, “We’ll go out and live our lives, date who we want. But at the end of the day I’ll know you’re out there and you’ll know I’m here. We’ll find our way back.”

She crashed her lips onto yours and it was everything you expected. Soft, gentle, and amazing. Then suddenly it all clicked, like this is where I am meant to be.

///

tag list: @greysky22 @yourssincerelyj @hstoria @shalifoestilinski

[thatgpaismine]

WHAT IS AN OUTLINE?

An outline is a revision technique most popularly used in law school to help condense all your material in a single document and study better. It's especially helpful in open book exams or subjects where you have A LOT of content (like STEM!). I've used outlining since high school in India and it's fared me well till my masters degree (in the UK)

WHO SHOULD USE OUTLINING?

Just about anyone who studies anything content heavy or in a subject that tends to be examined by exams and tests over essays. It's very likely that when you're tested, it won't be on a single topic that you covered in a single class, but more on how cross-cutting themes intersect. Outlining is also fantastic for problem-based questions since it lets you breakdown how every kind of problem works out. By outlining again and again, the most important information is cemented in your brain.

OK I'M CONVINCED! HOW DO I OUTLINE?

Preparing 

First of all, outlining is not something you need to do before your exams. I actually recommend working on your outline every time you finish a topic, but it's not advice I follow always either

Think about your medium of choice. I personally prefer taking my outlines on Notion, but lots of people prefer a regular Word Processor like Microsoft Word or hand-written notes (which is especially good for diagrams)

Make a structure. This doesn't have to be detailed, it can simply be a list of topics that make sense to you. I often combine some similar topics or split a large topic into sections

It's useful to think about at this point on what is going to be examined. Your teacher or professor might have sent you a syllabus or handbook with this information, or you may be able to ask students or google past papers. The whole point of an outline is to condense only the relevant information, so knowing what could be relevant helps.

Get all of your resources out. Textbooks, any supplementary readings (or notes you've taken), syllabi, powerpoint slides and your chicken scratch class notes. We will all make sense of it.

First Outline

Keeping your structure in mind, go at your materials topic by topic with a highlighter or a pencil. Be careful of not over-highlighting or underlining- if you find your page covered in yellow, you're doing too much. If you think you're comfortable with a topic, you might not even need to underline.

Once you're finished with a topic, close everything and write whatever you know under that topic heading. At this point, feel free to add diagrams, flowcharts, more headings- whatever makes it easier to understand and condense.

At this point, especially if you haven't revisited that topic, it's likely that you have lots of gaps. That's okay! Go back to your materials and fill in any gaps with information that make sense TO YOU. For lots of my topics I usually use examples or informal language just so I actually understand what I'm talking about. I also like to fill stuff that I missed out in a different colour

Repeat the last three steps untill all your topics are covered.

Your first outline is complete! At this point, this should be the only resource or document you need for your exam since you've looked at all of your other material and condensed it all. If you feel like you need to look at other things, add that information to your outline

Outlining, again

But wait, you're not done yet! Give it a few days (or a few hours, if it's crunch time) and try making a second outline. I generally make my first outline on my laptop and my second (or third) in a notebook or a totally different software. For this outline, you basically want to make an even shorter version of Outline 1, really focussing on what is critical. A good rule of thumb is to have only 1-2 page per topic.

Keep repeating the last step till you have the shortest possible outline with only the critical information. That's your final outline! You can read this to revise right before an exam, or use it as your material in an open book exam.

Some quick points to note:

Keep your initial outline handy. I often found that first outline might have had a detail that wasn't critical, but could help boost my grade to the next level- add this (as briefly as possible) to your final outline

It might also be useful in your final outline to have a few example questions worked out in detail with notes on every step. Understanding and detailing why and how every step is needed helped me tremendously in maths exams where you had wild-card questions based on a concept and you could pick out the relevant steps

If you are taking an outline into an exam, it is very useful to have a table of contents handy and/or tabs to help you sort through relevant or lined topics