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beauty-and-passion · 11 months ago

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Eurovision 2024: 38 songs, first impressions

Wake up, bitches, it's that time of the year again.

No, not Christmas. It's Eurovision time, aka the time when we can verbally destroy each other and call our neighbors "filthy traitors", but in the end we would still be united against the real enemy: the jury.

As we all know, last year Sweden won but Finland caught the Snitch or, to put it simply, Finland won our hearts, but since the newly crowned King of Europe Käärijä was too busy being majestic and Finland was too busy being precious, Sweden graciously offered to host the competition for its neighbor.

Yes, this is what happened. No, you don't remember something different.

And yes, I ultimately decided to follow this year's competition. As someone said in some old post, Eurovision is a bit like that toxic relationship you can't escape from. And maybe you don't really want to escape from it.

So, since we're trapped in this hellhole, at least let's enjoy our time together with a heavy dose of sarcasm and a sprinkle of wholesomeness. Eurovision might have flaws, but nothing is perfect in this world after all.

As per every year, I always do my first listening while doing my chores, so the songs are in the background and I have no idea who sings what or from what country they're from. I just let them flow and see if something gets my attention.

And this year a lot of them did! I couldn't identify a clear winner, but I found a ton of small, beautiful gems everywhere. Oh, this year seems very, very promising.

As always, this is my first listening: many more will follow and my opinions may drastically change. So please, don't take my comments too seriously: this is all for fun.

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ALBANIA

Pretty nice song and pretty nice rhythm, I really like it.

But also... I've been to Tirana in January and I've listened to the songs they have there. And even if this one is very good, I would've loved more true Albanian rhythm.

Still, this will probably end in my personal playlist, so that's a plus for me.

Vote: A Titan in disguise? *Greek mythology intensifies* *Cronus intensifies*

__________

ARMENIA

We all stan a song in Armenian and if you don't, you will start doing now because yes, we have Armenian and yes, it sounds great.

So let's all thank Armenia for bringing its beautiful language - along with some nice Balkan rhythm that kept slapping me in the face.

But you know me, I'm a simple Mediterranean: I hear Balkan rhythm, I love it.

Vote: I will always be a slut for Balkan rhythms

__________

AUSTRIA

If Armenia slapped me with Balkan rhythm, Austria bitchslapped me with the whole 1990 decade.

But you know me, I am a simple Millennial: I listen to something that seems to come straight from the 90s, I dance.

Vote: We! Will! Rave!

__________

AUSTRALIA

This was... good. Just good. And the singer is good too. Maybe even too good.

Sigh, Australia forgot again that this is Eurovision. Please, someone, remind them this is the show of fire, sparkles and insanity.

Vote: "What ya gonna do in the real world?" Easy, WE! WILL! RAVE!

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AZERBAIJAN

Luckily Azerbaijan remembered that hey, they're the country that delivers good stuff! They should bring a good song!

And so they did and delivered us a good song, with good verses and a wonderful chorus in Azerbaijani.

The only problem is that the chorus is much better than the verses and if the song was entirely in Azerbaijani, it would've been a banger. Unfortunately, it's just good.

Vote: great job, Azerbaijan. Next time, ditch English entirely

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BELGIUM

"Are you still playing the game?" If you mean The Game, I think we all lost it.

Vote: +1 for the power move of making everyone lose The Game

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CROATIA

As soon as I started listening to it, I was assaulted by a sick rhythm. Then by a guy who tells me he's a big boy. Then by his anxiety. Then by more sick rhythm.

Then by what is probably the greatest line ever said in the history of music:

One last thing: the singer's name is Baby Lasagna. Baby Lasagna. He's speaking to my Italian heart and, even more importantly, to my Italian stomach.

And you know me, I'm a simple Italian: food is mentioned, I vibe.

Vote: my cats will vote for him

__________

CYPRUS

Oh no, please help this young lady! She forgot she's from Cyprus and she should send sick bops in Greek!

Vote: it's not a bad song at all. It's just not Cyprus-worthy

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CZECHIA

Oh, sorry, I didn't know this was a therapy session. I'll wait in the hall.

Vote: it's not bad, it's just... nope

__________

DENMARK

After a lot of disappointing years, finally Denmark brought a great song! The singer is good, the rhythm is good and it deserves a place in the final.

Vote: it's not in Danish, but we can't have everything

__________

ESTONIA

This song is an instant favorite. Native language, sick rhythm, adorable weirdos, all in one package.

And let me repeat that: Estonian! Beautiful Estonian language! It was such a wonderful surprise to listen to it! I literally stopped what I was doing and perked my ears because mmmh, it sounds like Finnish, but it's not exactly Finnish... what's that? And it was Estonian.

I am in love <3

Vote: pure Moldovian spirit in Estonia? I approve.

__________

FINLAND

So, let's recap:

we have a singer named Windows95man.

He wears a blurred Windows logo and no pants.

He comes out from an egg made of jeans.

The other singer isn't always in tune and he's dressed in pieces of jeans that make him look like a paperman.

He has the balls to ask if there's anything wrong with how he dresses.

The song screams of the 90s.

And then, during the performance, a pair of shorts literally fell from the sky.

With fire.

If that's not pure Eurovision, I don't know what it is.

(And before you ask: of course they cannot use Finnish, only Käärijä can and only the next Käärijä will be allowed to use it.)

Vote: Even if Finland sent the worst, most boring singer ever, for this year I would've given it a free pass. But Finns are such bosses, they decided to send this. Respect only

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FRANCE

And here on the right, you can see the French Frenching harder than ever.

Vote: a song named "Mon Amour". Seriously. Seriously. What will be the next one about? La Tour Eiffel? Oh wait, you already did that

__________

GERMANY

I'm mad because I already know this song will get zero points just because "iT's GeRmAnY", even if it's actually good.

Vote: thank you Germany for still sending good songs. You deserve more

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GEORGIA

You're "rising from the ashes like a phoenix"? Well, now I remember Conchita Wurst with Rise like a phoenix, which is way way WAY better than this song.

And since Conchita is Austrian, I also remembered the memo we got this year, which is one and one only: WE! WILL! RAVE!

Vote: more rave, less this

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GREECE

What? What? What do my ears hear? Greek rhythm? Greek language? And it comes together with a more modern vibe?

See, Greece? SEE? This is how you do things well. This is how you choose a good singer to represent your country. Thank you, Greece, for finally picking someone competent and not the umpteenth child.

Vote: finally, a song Greece-worthy

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ICELAND

I don't know why, but this song reminds me of another, more famous song. Can't exactly pinpoint which one, but it's way too familiar and I don't like it.

Vote: as soon as it was over, I forgot it

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IRELAND

And here on the left, you can see Ireland coming back to their roots, aka the most insane, batshit crazy stuff they have, stuff that will make you question what the heck happens on that island and if everyone's okay.

Vote: not a favorite, but it's definitely something I've never heard before. So that's a plus

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ISRAEL

I still have no idea why Israel is here, but I suppose that some have a free pass for killing innocents.

The singer isn't bad either, but the rhythm keeps reminding me of another, more famous song. Just like Iceland, I don't remember exactly which one, except that the famous one was better.

Vote: you shouldn't even be here

__________

ITALY

I already made a post commenting the Italian songs from this year and told a couple things about Angelina Mango and this song's meaning.

Here I can only reconfirm that this song is still a huge bop, the southern rhythm is still my Roman Empire and we may still have some chances of winning this year's Eurovision.

Vote: her southern accent my beloved

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LATVIA

The rhythm isn't so bad, but it's just so. Very. Forgettable.

But hey, I suppose it's good for re-listening, because I listened to it twice and both times it was like listening to it for the first time.

I didn't like it both times, but that's a detail.

Vote: just as forgettable as the Icelandic one

__________

LITHUANIA

You know, I respect Lithuania. Their songs are not my favorite, but they keep using their own beautiful language. Hence why, they deserve a place in the final.

Vote: keep showing us the beautiful Lithuanian language, I believe that one day I will find I song I like

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LUXEMBOURG

Do you know what I feared the most this year? That Luxembourg came back after 30 years and the song was shit. That they showed us something stale and boring.

But Luxembourg stepped in like the queen of the party and said: "Please, hold both my French and my English, because I can and I will drop something sick". And so they did.

Amazing rhythm, amazing singer, amazing return.

Vote: Luxembourg is back and wants to win

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MALTA

Malta is my personal Sweden. Even when they send a song I don't really like (like this one), it's just weak. I don't remember a song coming from them that I considered truly "bad".

I don't know what kind of sorcery Malta does, but it works on me every year.

Vote: Malta has too much power on me

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MOLDOVA

Don't worry, Moldova: you can't always be the best every year. You deserve to relax once in a while and this year you've been covered by a lot of other countries.

Vote: it's not the huge bop you would expect from Moldova, but that's okay. I'll let it pass, because Moldova always does great things for Eurovision

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THE NETHERLANDS

This song has a lot of amazing things.

First, the language: thank God, the Netherlands are still sending songs in their native language as it should be. It's beautiful to listen to it and I love to hear words that kinda remind me of both German and English.

Second: despite what it seems, this song isn't a satire/parody of Europe. On the contrary, it's a celebration of how open Europe is and how easy it is to travel without borders.

And it may seem normal for us because we're used to it now, but I visited Albania this January and there were a shit ton of controls and checks to do. While last time I went to Greece, all I had to do was walk down a corridor, show my ID card and everything was fine. The open borders truly are a victory for everyone who likes to travel - and a sign of how much better Europe is. So a song celebrating them is very much appreciated.

Third: the song isn't just about open borders! It's about a man remembering his parents, about how much he still misses them. And it's about his victory. In the end, he's literally telling them: look, dad and mom, I finally made it to Eurovision.

And these soft, wholesome things always get me in my cold heart <3

Vote: top of the final chart, no questions

__________

NORWAY

Let's all thank Norway for bringing the folk theme, along with their beautiful language.

I don't know what happened this year, but we are blessed by so many beautiful languages it truly seems like Eurovision and not Englishvision.

Vote: a bit too many screams, but I appreciate the enthusiasm of speaking in your native language

__________

POLAND

Poland learned from last year and instead of bringing another ball of nothing, they brought a song more fitting for their vibes.

It's in English tho, and that's very sad because Polish is a nice language. But at least the singer is good and in tune.

Vote: She built the tower. If it's the one from Stephen King's series, then we should have a chat

__________

PORTUGAL

Portugal did a miracle last year, by bringing a song I actually liked. So in order to be coherent, this year they brought another boring, forgettable song.

Vote: nothing good lasts forever

__________

SAN MARINO

Don't worry, people, San Marino will bring all the party vibes we need. It will take them some time to come, because they took a detour to Spain, but the vibes are still great.

Vote: maybe this year they won't be the usual traitors and give us 12 points

__________

SERBIA

Serbian lyrics? Yes, please!

And even if this song has some ballad vibes, it's not the umpteenth boring ballad. It's a very nice, soft song and the singer's voice is good too.

Vote: great job, Serbia

__________

SLOVENIA

A song in Slovenian? We stan! We all stan!

I'm not sure I like the "rrruaph!" sound, but the use of a native language and the dark vibes are very appreciated.

Vote: all these countries are spoiling us with their beautiful languages and I'm here for it

__________

SPAIN

Spain rarely disappoints and once again they proved it: instead of bringing the umpteenth young gal, this year they chose a more mature singer and not only she has a wonderful angelic voice, but she sings in sexy Spanish and her song is perfect dance material.

Vote: We're all zorras

__________

SWEDEN

Since Sweden refuses to bring something else besides the same generic pop music in English, I want to start a new trend: the Swedish Suggestion Box. Here we can all suggest much more interesting Swedish songs (or artists!). There's only one rule: they shouldn't be boring, nor generic stuff you can hear on the radio 24/7.

This year, I would like to suggest Nanne Grönvall: she's a pop singer, but she mostly sings in Swedish. I particularly recommend the songs Håll om mig, Den Vilda, and Vi är dom tuffaste.

If you have other Swedish artists or songs worthy of attention, please recommend them in the comments/reblogs! Even if the songs are in English, they're still fine! As I said, the only rule is that it shouldn't be generic and boring.

And I know Sweeden can do better than generic and boring.

Vote: Suggestions are open!

__________

SWITZERLAND

Switzerland is my second Sweden: even if other people might hate the songs it brings, I've rarely hated something coming from it. And if I did, it was with fiery passion. Yes, I'm looking at you, devastatingly boring 2022's entry.

So I'm very happy that this year we can all agree this is a great song, because wow. WOW. Mixing electropop with opera singing made something truly amazing to listen to and I can't wait to see if the singer manages to do it live. If he can, it will be magnificent.

Vote: fine, Switzerland, I'll forgive you for the 2022's entry. But only if you keep sending amazing stuff like this

__________

UKRAINE

Ukraine = quality and no one can deny it. I'm not a huge fan of this mix rap/Ukrainian rhythm they have been brought in these last years, but as long as I can listen to some nice Ukrainian language and some new vibes, I am all for it.

Vote: thank you, Ukraine, for always bringing amazing stuff

__________

UNITED KINGDOM

And here it is: the only country (with Ireland) that is legally allowed to use English in a song. Even if I dream that, one day, the UK will send a song in French and blow up the entirety of Europe.

The song per se isn't bad: very 90s' vibes, very dancey. But if I have to choose something with 90s vibes, I prefer the rave.

Vote: not bad UK, but could be better

#beauty talks about stuff #eurovision #eurovision 2024 #that's a promising years #lots of native languages #lots of good songs #and barely any ballad in sight #we're closer to that day #the day we will move past the need for ballads

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lagroupie · 1 year ago

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Interview: DZ Deathrays - R.I.F.F.

DZ Deathrays after a few cocktails in Bern, through my Nikon.

Last month, DZ Deathrays were back in Europe, touring with Pabst. The Australian and German combo had a couple shows in Switzerland, in Aarau and Bern, and I happily attended both of them. After their show at ISC in snowy Bern, I met with DZ Deathrays backstage for an interview.

Join us as we catch up and the guys tell me more about their latest record R.I.F.F. Many thanks to DZ Deathrays for their time and their kindness, and to the team at ISC!

First, I wanted to catch up with you. Last time we talked, everyone was living in a different city in Australia. Is that still the case?

Shane: Yes. Simon is in Brisbane, Luke is in Gold Coast, Lachlan in Sydney and I am in the Blue Mountains, which is Western Sydney.

Wow. I understand now why it took a bit longer to record R.I.F.F.

Shane: Also, during Covid, we weren’t allowed to travel between states in Australia. So we didn’t see each other for months. You know, that was a whole year of our lives that was kind of wasted.

I hope you’re not sick of playing the songs yet.

Simon: No, we didn’t really get to play them for a while.

Shane: We really just started playing them this year, so it’s still fresh. It feels good.

There’s also a new member in DZ Deathrays, Luke! Did you know each other before?

Lachlan: Right, we’ve known each other since before the band.

Luke: I’ve actually been to their album recording sessions, taking photos! I’ve been around the band a long time.

Simon: Luke is always around. ‘Come on man, let me in!’ (laughs)

Shane at ISC in Bern, shot with my Nikon.

I also wanted to know how you met Pabst?

Shane: I actually saw them on Twitter. They tagged us and them together in a tweet. I think I’d seen their name a couple times that week, because they released a live record the same week we released our record R.I.F.F. So I kept seeing those two records together and wondered ‘what is this band?’. In rock music, there’s not that much innovative stuff or things that I love immediately. But I listened to this band and thought ‘wow, I actually really love them’ straight away. I didn’t even know they were German, because they sing and speak in English.

And then, we saw that they were doing these shows and just messaged them asking ‘can we come over and play some shows with you? We want to go to Europe.’ After not being in Europe since 2020, and how things have changed after Covid, it was hard for us to plan anything rock solid. So we thought, ‘why don’t we come over and do some shows with them? It won’t be as stressful to book all the shows and make sure it works’. We had some shows booked for November, but the run wasn’t great – it didn’t look great, it wasn’t the right shows. So we thought it might be cooler if we played with someone else. And they said yes. They’ve been really friendly and looking after us. They’re driving us around and everything.

And I like how your music and theirs match. I’ve only been to two shows on this tour, but all the people I’ve talked to were looking forward to seeing both bands.

Shane: Nice! That was the plan!

Let’s talk about your new record R.I.F.F.! First, the album cover – I see now it’s similar to the tattoo on Shane’s arm!

Shane: Right but it’s not my arm! It’s our guitar tech’s, David Herington. Tall guy, beard, curly hair…

Lachlan: Funny man. (laughs)

Shane: It’s a stick and poke tattoo.

Simon: We got it after our last show in Toronto, in 2019. We had Sadstab – they just do lots of stick and poke tattoos for all sorts of bands – we got them on the bus, got fucked up and got tattoos. It was great!

Shane: It was one of those things we did to remember it’s for fun. When doing shows and having everyone standing at the back of the room, it’s like – ‘what are we here for? We’re here for a good time.’ If you have fun, it makes the show look better. It gets reciprocated back. With the band, we’ve done so many shows and haven’t had many people there or whatever. But we always go out on stage thinking ‘let’s just enjoy ourselves and have a great time’. And they end up becoming good shows. Back on that tour in Canada, there were a few shows that were very bad, but we all had fun at them. And then it made the whole tour really good. At the end of the tour, we decided to get ‘Remember It’s For Fun’ tattoos.

youtube

I also wanted to talk about the song King B. I love it and sing along to the lyrics, but I don’t know what it’s about. (laughs)

Shane: It’s about people in the room when we play. When we first had the riff, it was called King B. I didn’t know what else to call it, so we just kept it as the title. It’s actually a B flat!

Where are you guys in the music video?

Luke: It’s in a studio.

Luke: I got to be the crazy doctor in that one. I got to look after Simon (laughs).

Simon: It was like a warehouse.

What can we expect from DZ Deathrays in the future?

Shane: We’ll do a 10 year anniversary for Black Rat. Then we’re going to record more songs.

https://www.instagram.com/dzdeathrays/?hl=en

https://dzdeathrays.com/uk.php

#dz deathrays #interview #r.i.f.f.#Youtube

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practicalmagicintuitions · 2 years ago

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Yes, they were making fun of a child (in their family) who chose to be who they really are. Talking about a minor’s genitals and making fun of their body, saying it would be such an inconvenience if they would have a child like that. They also mentioned that if their own child were gay, they’d want nothing to do with it and they also mention this in front of their child. So imagine if this child is indeed gay (or wishes they were another gender), they are growing up hating themselves because of their hateful parents.

Tbh, Americans are in a whole different category, to me they are lost causes. In Europe I don’t feel like people are going “overboard” with the social awareness. A lot of dickheads use the word “woke” as a pejorative, it says more about them than about anything else. People should be considerate of one another, something that seems to have gone lost the last few years, especially after Covid, they lost their empathy by being stuck at home and being confronted with themselves I guess, instead of using it as an opportunity to grow.

If someone wants to be addressed in a certain way, then I will do that, it doesn’t make a difference for me, but it does for them.

If a transwoman wants to use a dressing room for women, that doesn’t mean they are going to assault anyone. Are there men who will want to take advantage of this and pretend to be trans? It is a possibility. But that problem lies in the fact that we live in a society where men are not being raised right and women are raised in fear.

We shouldn’t punish all trans people, because there are some non-trans people who will try to take advantage of it.

First of all I 100% agree with you on that example, it is horrible. No one should do that, or say that especially in front of kids. But I have to disclose since I have a real interest in this topic and listening and reading about it a lot, I don't support child transitioning. If you heard testimony of detransitioners they were basically groomed and brainwashed by adults and let down by the system. There is less harm in waiting for 18 years or more than realising your body, your mind, and your potential life was mutilated and taken away from you just because you were a kid and because of that, you were an easy target. I do not believe in BS like "if we are praying hard enough or son will be straight" no. But denying our kids blindly or letting them do anything blindly is the same side of the wrong coin. In one case the parent is not supportive enough and the other is too supportive (it's a thing like toxic positivity). When I read something like "child who chose to be who they really are" sorry but I feel this is the laziest, most simplified argument ever and I just cannot stop rolling my eyes. Children are children for a reason. Mainly because they don't know who they are yet. If a child at age 3-4-5 etc can decide about their gender without any challenge from a parent and authorities why don't we let 6 years old to vote? Drink? Why don't we give them guns, and send them to wars? What if a child says he wants to be a firefighter? You will let him run into a burning building? Or he is saying he is Superman and can fly. Would you let him jump off the 35th floor? I hope not. Have you seen the video about a cute little girl trying a lemon for the first time? She says no and makes faces but cannot stop eating and licking it. She says one thing and at the exact same time, she does the exact opposite. Because she is a child. Parent-children dynamic is important. Why do modern parents think that hierarchy means they are bad, abusive parents? Actually, it means the opposite. With boundaries and rules, you give your child the feeling of safety and a controlled safe place they can exist. And this space is going bigger and bigger with age. That's why being a teenager was so significant in the past.

America is an essential factor simply because almost every viral idea comes from there. The English language can transform other languages easily especially since the internet and SM, so the things happening there will happen in other parts of the world sooner or later. Maybe not in the same form and not every idea but some. That's why I was shocked that they banned abortion in many states. This is something that I am afraid of will spread all around Europe. I mean we already have counties like Poland where is almost impossible to get an abortion and they are letting women die. And since many people still think America is the land where everything is right, if they rule something it must be the correct decision, right... ?

Woke as a word is interesting because I indeed use it as a negative. Why? Because most people I see and call themselves woke are radicals and I don't support radicalism. And as I witnessed they are the one who has zero understanding and acceptance if someone is thinking a bit differently. This doesn't make me a dickhead because I am the one here who is trying to maintain a balanced conversation without name-calling. This is also something that woke people don't like to do as I experienced.

"But that problem lies in the fact that we live in a society where men are not being raised right and women are raised in fear."

This is a very interesting point, but this is just a half-truth. So based on this (that women are living in fear of men) where do you put trans women? Because they are biologically and genetically men. No matter what. Logically speaking. Or do you think if an adult man declares himself a woman he automatically falls off from the "men who are threatening" category? I like to see this argument being presented in female prisons where somehow magically rapes and pregnancies are happening. And what about same-sex couples? Do you know that every single study says in same-sex relationships domestic violence is higher than in heterosexual ones? So what about an abusive lesbian relationship where there is no man involved? Or what about an abusive gay relationship where no woman is involved? And if we are saying men are not being raised right, do you realise many of those men have a mother too? So if they are not being raised right is a shared responsibility between a man and a woman, between a father and mother. Or I don't understand who you refer to, who did a bad job raising those abusive men? Fathers only? Yes in some cases definitely, but in some cases mothers are acting as if their sons were god who can do anything. I am sorry but I don't believe in the man bad women good thinking. We are humans with incredible flaws.

The key to this argument is where do we draw the line to protect biological and trans people from impostors? Because women are facing a very new fear of men right now. When men are getting awards for being a better women than a woman. When they are letting is sports, when people demanding not to use the word mother and refer yourself birthing people etc. This is damaging biological women and girls. Their opportunities and mental health. Why their mental health doesn't concern anyone? Why do they have to give up their dreams silently and in fear of being labelled this and that just because someone wasn't good enough in a men's race or being offended by some words?

When a phoney like DM is threatening women in many ways he is also damaging the trans community. Those people make it harder for everyone and silently make people stop supporting the majority of trans people who just want to live their lives. I am sure when most people like me raise voices and concerns they are not talking about the adult trans people who just want to live their lives. For me, it's about leaving children out of it and understanding and accepting that even though they are now living as a woman, biology doesn't change, so they simply cannot be female swimmers at age 20 after having been a mediocre male swimmer for 19 years. Or saying no way when a man who is very proud to be a woman for a whole week starts to order biological women to do and not to do or say things. And interestingly, if you read deeply in comments and opinion peaces most trans people totally aware of this and concerned by this as well.

"We shouldn’t punish all trans people, because there are some non-trans people who will try to take advantage of it."

That is the point, besides some radicals, NO ONE want's to punish trans people. Saying some facts is not punishing. Asking for fair treatment in areas where male-female strength is a factor is not a punishment. People are not opposed to trans, people are opposed to the very dominant, mentally ill people like DM or the other one I don't know his name, whose fans basically harassed and sent death threats to a mom on youtube. Those people are hurting everyone, using real people's trauma for shortcuts. And because they are influential, getting the screen time, the big money, they are influencing the conversation about this. And people raise their voices because of this. Not because someone simply wants to live as a woman. But because they are involving children, silencing young women and moms, etc.

I really recommend this video and the comments. Maybe if a gay black man says his opinion this will mean something...

youtube

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theydontknowabouthem · 3 months ago

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hiii! it's the weekend!!! hope yours will be very fun and restful at the same time✨

'not french speaking country but french is quite common here' 🤨 how common are you talking. are we thinking previously colonized countries such as north african countries 👀 or an european country where a lot of french people somehow live?

(i wish i lived under a digital rock tbqh, so go you!!!) yes omg i'm always happy to talk about the 1975 - the thing is they have quite the range in terms of genre in their discography so i'll try to rec some different songs so u can have an idea and pick what u like best and then i can rec more of their songs similar to the ones u like. they have loads of political songs and most of their songs, if not all, are a social commentary and that's what i like best about them! you can give a try to: Chocolate, Loving Someone, If I Believe You, tootimetootime, It's Not Living if It's Not With You, Jesus Christ 2005, Guys, Part of the Band. And the trifecta of fuck america/fuck our current political world: Love It If We Made It, I Like America & America Likes Me and People. alright i swear i tried to keep it to a minimum 😭

yes europe!!! well done so far 🙂‍↕️and you're right, not from an english speaking country (although i live in one).

i relate to this so much - how the boys' music i listen to the most changes so often for me too. i've just been to a zayn concert v recently so right now i'm biased towards him <3. and just like you, i've always been a louis girl!!! back very early on when i didn't know anything about them in 2013, i already knew louis and niall were my faves because they were the underrated ones and their solos/their voices were my favourite. so yeah! lately, i've been quite detached from the 1D fandom and the recent tragic event kind of made me detach even more as self protection, but i will always love those boys <3

i've never watched hannibal!! don't even really know what it's about? plss tell me about it and why you like it so much! x

question of the day: if you had to plan your ideal surprise party/day for your birthday with all the money in the world at your disposal: what activities would you do, who would be there, which country or place would it be in etc etc.

all the love!!! xxxx

hiii bestie, <3 so sorry for the late reply, but my weekend was... erm, come se dice? it was shit. 💀 i was stuck doing 4 weeks’ worth of work in 2 days cos there were problems with my account, so i wasn’t receiving emails about it. and no, this is not a democracy—you sell your soul to academia (aka the devil) the moment you enroll in a phd programme. so all i could do was just get on with it. xd anyway, i’m used to it (not having a life cos of this shit). it was just inconvenient cos i really wanted to go shopping!! 😭

i hope your weekend was so much better (please let it be great—one of us has to live!!) and tell me about it when you can.

erm, so i’ve noticed i’ve given you many, many clues, and you’re getting closer fast—we don’t like that, nah uh. so imma be devious, throw you in a loop, and say no and no... cos technically you’re wrong☝🤓. but cos i’m nice, i’ll say you’re on the right path!

i’ve listened to all the songs you suggested... and yeah, i’m a 1975 fan!! loved them all; guys and loving someone were my faves. not a fan of i like america & america likes me... and it’s not living if it’s not with you gave me bsb vibes for some reason... maybe the chorus? anyway, thank you for the recommendations, i like! <3

i’d say you currently live in the uk... maybe england? but you’re from a german-speaking country. not germany, though—idk, maybe belgium or switzerland (cos you listen to french songs). i’m betting on the former more. and to keep my options open, i’d say austria.

yeah, same... icarus falls is one of my favorite albums ever! (i get it—I still can’t listen to 1d songs, and only recently started listening to their solo songs again.)

OMG what are you doing not watching the masterpiece that is hannibal???!!! it is so so so so fucking good! the acting, the storyline, the writing, and the complexity of the characters!! i love everything about it, really. it’s not a long series, but it’s perfect—just give it a try!

in a world where i enjoy celebrating my bday and not actually dread it🧍‍♀️💀... anyway i saw this channel band went on tour earlier this year, so this idea came from that. the theme of the party would be nostalgia! i’d drive me down to a villa outside the city, close to the forest and beside the beach (my brother could pull this off without me being sus cos he sometimes takes me to sites cos of his job). my close friends and immediate family would be there, cosplaying as their fave childhood anime/cartoon from this specific channel (just for context, it’s a big thing for millennials and early gen z here—the singers from the channel do world tours now for adults, performing openings and endings of those animes). activities would include karaoke of said openings and endings. after the cake, we’d go swim in the beach and enjoy the scenery. basically, the activities would align with the theme. just a fun, intimate get-together with a cosy vibe and a small number of people. yeah, not the most exciting—soz, i’m apparently going through a quarter-life crisis atm. xd such a nice question!! i can’t wait to hear what your version would be!!

sending you so much love, xx

#holiday pal #L #answered

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armoredcorelegacy · 1 year ago

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European (and non-US) players unite! Join us for the EU Edition of GAME TIME on the Armored Core: Verdict Day PS3 INT server, featuring ACV/VD veterans with a Europe friendly timeslot. See link or this thread for FAQ and details. https://www.reddit.com/r/armoredcore/comments/1aom00a/european_and_nonus_players_unite_join_us_for_the/

FAQ

What: Team Battles

Where: PS3 (INT Server)

When: February 25th, 7 PM GMT (12 PM EST)

Who: hosted by FromCheng

What is GAME TIME? - GAME TIMEs are designated play times to let players know when to jump on and just have some quick fun! Originally started around 2015-2016, ACL frequently ran these to help boost activity and help people find others to play with. These are typically hosted as Free Battle rooms

What makes this different from any other GAME TIME? - This slot was meant to cater to our EU playerbase, who can't always make it during normal US times. Also, we've invited a number of our EU veterans, which will give you the opportunity to experience a wider variety of play and skill.

Can non-EU players join? - Of course! As long as there's room, feel free to hop on with us.

What do I need to do to be a part? - As long as you have a PS3, a non-Japan copy of ACVD and an internet connection, nothing! Just jump on at the designated time and find the room. You can also add the host on PSN to make it easier to invite you in.

How do I get into the actual GAME TIME room? - On the main menu once you've logged into ACVD, go to Free Battle -> Player Match -> Custom Match -> hit OK and it will search for the room.

Help! I'm in the game and online but I can't find the room even when searching! - Free Battle rooms will only appear when a match is ongoing. If a Free Battle room has initiated, you will not be able to find it again until that match finishes. You can wait and try again after several moments, or use @ the host on any social media platform where GAME TIME is posted, or reach out to members in the ACD 5thgen channel to see if the room is still up.

How long are GAME TIME sessions? - GAME TIME sessions are typically 1 to 2 hours long. However, these rooms can extend past the official time period if there is interest and people stay on and active.

I don't have a PS3 or ACVD setup currently but I'd like to join future sessions. Do you have any resources I could use? - Yes! check out the tFV page, specifically the FAQ and Resource + Guides tab. This will help answer some basic questions you may have about ACVD and also gives you a step by step guide on how to set up ACVD on PS3 so that you are ready to go.

Where can I find out about future GAME TIMEs so that i can join? - Check out the tFV "Events tab." We will always try to announce these events in advance so that people can make time for them.

Is there a Discord for this event? - There is not. We highly recommend you use Armored Core Discord's 5thgen Channel if you want to talk with others during the event!

#armored core #acvd #aclegacy #アーマード・��ア #アーマードコア #armoredcore #pilot's internal organization #acl #armored core legacy #pio

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fff777 · 1 year ago

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part 1 reaction to nct dream's our dream day in the US #2

Woo! Part 1 was super cute, and I think part 2 will be too based on the montage

Markren: We're going to Georgetown Jisung: When I become famous, I'll build a Jisungtown Mark: In Korea? Jisung: In Europe Renjun: Cute~ He's their baby <3

Jisung: I'll have a JS street Jisung: Only INFPs can walk on it Mark: A bit much

Jisung suggesting doing the First Snow challenge video outside

Mark was thinking of Candy

Photographer Jaemin paired with model Haechan :3

Lol Jenle bumped into someone who asked who they were and then they showed the person their Youtube page

Chenle: It feels different to be abroad Chenle: To me, Korea is abroad too Jeno: It's your second home

Haechan and Minjae at the hotel bar >3

Jaemin sulking about Haechan not paying attention to his antics Haechan, in English: Jesus

Talking about muscles again X'D

LMFAO Mark going on a SPREE inside Ralph Lauren without telling them he was an ambassador for them

More outdoor photoshoots with Nahyuck

Jenle waterside photoshoot lel

LOL Squid ink + corndog

Jeno: Why are you trying so hard

To be honest have Nahyuck ever done anything together alone?

Lol they had their customer service smiles on when the server was talking to them

Jaemin angry that Haechan went ahead and drank without making a toast first

Sweet boy wants sweets

More photography. Photographer Jaemin in action is really fun to watch :3

Chenle falling in love with the doggo

LOL Haechan's vivid deja vu about Nahyuck video content

Haechan is an extrovert who gets along better with introverts :3

I think Dream's English is probably pretty good. They are good at listening but I think they understand social cues well too.

More MBTI science from Nahyuck

Jeno caught a wild Jaemin and got him to take his photo

Lol multiple models crying today (Haechan and Chenle). A combination of opening eyes for too long and the sunlight I guess?

Both Chenle and Jeno getting their pants wet from the grass ^^;;

Bother bother

Jeno is right, that water path is perfect for bike rides

The way Jaemin does that photographer thing of praising his models

Losers XD

I wonder where Haechan went off to since he abandoned Jaemin lol

And now Jeno's abandoned Jaemle

So Jaemin is saying about 5% of photos are good enough for exhibiting. Meanwhile, I just screenshot everything.

Jaemin and Chenle bumped into Mark, Renjun, and Jisung. It's time to get their photos taken >3

Jaemin and Haechan's were worried that the people who didn't know them would not pay attention to them during their performance and just occasionally look up from their phones lol

Original lineup was Broken Melodies, Hot Sauce, ISTJ, and Hello Future, but Renjun suggested Trigger the Fever over Hello Future, and Beatbox was added

Jaemin and Haechan have been saying they are similar other than the extroversion/introversion difference

Photographer Na always on the clock

Jaemin is crying too? Is the weather really that harsh?

When you become a photographer, you have to become a stylist too it seems lol. Mark needed to fix his hair.

Awwww Jisung told Chenle to do a kitty smile

Ah yes, I remember Chenji's trip to Busan where Jisung was photographer

LMAO Jisung is so dramatic

Markmin in the background doing their photoshoot

Chenle IS being very obedient X3 Somehow he's not like this when others take his photos, but also Jisung is the only one who has so many directions.

Jisung is soooo proud haha

Meanwhile Chenle's like "...boring photos are ok"

Mark letting out the wildest scream while climbing onto the rail, he was so 大驚小怪

Lol vibes too cute X3

WAIT T_T Why is he getting so deep

So he was saying that on instinct, he thinks about what he and the other person can gain from each other. I wonder if there's anything lost in translation. Like is this only to do with physical things, or intangible things as well?

Ohhh I wonder if this is like, a habit gained from stardom at too young an age :S Like when you're a celebrity, you worry about what people want when they try to get close to you

Jaemin and Haechan agreeing that they're most comfortable with the members, and don't feel like they need anything from each other. That's good but wow what brought about that interlude ^^;;

Getting the shot

Mark: Should I jump? Jisung: Nooooo don't do it Chenle: You can do it!!! But don't do it Chenji literally the devil and angel on your shoulders

Chenle: You won't get hurt but you might die Honestly maybe that's the lesser of two evils

Jisung: Do you know why guys have shorter lifespans?

#screencaps & commentaries #nct #nct dream

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candy-floss-crazy · 1 year ago

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anyagee · 1 year ago

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book asks! 3, 12, 17.

3. Top 5 10 Books

In no particular order other than I opened Goodreads and scrolled backwards

System Collapse - Martha Wells

All the President's Men - Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward

Siren Queen - Nghi Vo

The Salt Grows Heavy - Cassandra Khaw

The Archive Undying - Emma Mieko Candon

A Prayer for the Crown Shy - Becky Chambers

Some Desperate Glory - Emily Tesh

The Genesis of Misery - Neon Yang

Deathless Gods - PC Hodgell

A Desolation of Peace - Arkady Martine

12. Any books that disappointed you?

From Unseen Fire - Cass Morris

Another author I like had this on a list of historical fiction they liked. I was not impressed.

It felt like nothing had any consequences (oooh there's a secret magic potion that will let the enemy control one person! Will our secondary character have to fight off mind control? Will he have to try and save or kill his bestie when he accidentally gets mind controlled instead? No! The sister wove a magic scarf and it fixed everything instantly!) and it didn't really nail the “ancient times have different values/society but I also want you to like my Roman aristocrat family that owns slaves”

Like, I can be down for a book that goes “I put in magic and changed up the social structure a bit because I wanted a fun mystery in ancient psudo-Rome and didn't really want to get too into it”. There's a place for historical fiction that's “I want fancy dresses and no cell phones!” and a place for stuff that wants to really dig into the social and political consequences of being a person in a historical period. And this was…neither.

The Foxglove King - Hannah Whitten

Unfortunately, disappointing in a boring way. Standard mediocre fantasy romance that wasn't sexy or interesting enough for me. Read it because I got through it really quickly and I didn't have anything else in my bag to read that day. At least it went for the “it's fine if she wants to bang both romantic leads” option instead of a love triangle? Magic system wasn't as weird as it could have been for someone with a connection to the god of death who gets powers from poison. If you are setting up a love interest goes to the dark side and she gets to become the empress in the next book and there's fantasy Catholicism you got to get weird with it, come on man.

Big disclaimer on this next one: it's actually a good book, but the question was “what disappointed you”

Piranesi - Susanna Clark

It just… wasn't for me. ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ I'm still not quite sure what about it I didn't like. I guess I went from "hmmm let's see where this goes" to "eehh well I might as well finish it" at the SPOILERS? bit where we find out about the real world. I've read and liked portal fantasy before so it's not that, but this just didn't click with me.

17. Did any books surprise you with how good they were?

All the President's Men - Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward

Rachael got the Watergate board game and we realized we didn't actually know that much about the actual history (I know what you're thinking, didn't you accidentally do enough history classes to get a a minor in it, yes but that was 20thC Europe and 13 years ago), so we started with watching the All the President's Men movie and it fucking spiraled from there.

I'm really excited that I have the time and attention span and energy to read actual history books again but, look, I can't recommend an extremely dense book on LBJ and the election of 1968 to most of you.

All the President's Men is surprisingly really fucking funny and you should read it. (Come with me on the journey of “oh wow absolutely not historically relevant now no why would you say that 🙃” and “why does this read like fanfic omg 🤣”)

Red Widow - Alma Katsu

Look, when a spy novel is published in 2021 by someone who used to work for the CIA you go into that going “oh no what bad takes do I need to be prepared to throw this book at the wall for”. (I read/watch lots of varying quality spy/action/thrillers so yea. Check out Kill James Bond for a good podcast.)

Really fun, absolutely had a character get introduced and I immediately went “ah if he doesn't get shot in a parking lot in the second act he's the bad guy” (spoiler: he was the bad guy) Like, great job of knowing your tropes and keeping it fun and entertaining. I have the sequel out from the library to read at the moment.

#books #asks

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volkswagonblues · 4 years ago

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a lil guide to the Fire Nation for the ATLA fic writers out there

(aka. a no means exhaustive primer on east asia by an asian person)

This is a guide for fic writers want to write a canon-era story set in the Fire Nation, or featuring Fire Nation characters. A quick little primer on the tiny details of everyday life that you might not think about, but certainly stuff that would make me, an asian person, wince if I were to encounter it. BRUSHES, not quills. CHOPSTICKS, not forks.

(note #1: this was partly inspired by a chat with @elilim)

(note: #2: I originally intended it for zukka fic writers before realizing that other writers might find it useful. so apologies for a slight Zuko-bias for that reason)

(note #3: this is all stuff i was thinking about when writing firebender’s guide, in case anyone was wondering)

1. CLOTHING

Okay, I think the most straightforward way to describe what everyone’s wearing most of the time is “tunic”. They’re all just...tunics of different colours and varieties. Later when Zuko’s the Fire Lord he wears robes. The show provides a better visual guide than I could, here are a few notes to keep in mind:

a) Japanese people wear their collars LEFT crossed over RIGHT

I don’t think this would come up in writing as much as it would in art, but it’s considered bad luck to do it the wrong way because that’s only for dead people. Let my boy Zuko demonstrate:

b) There are no buttons

This is picky, but Wikipedia says “Functional buttons with buttonholes for fastening or closing clothes appeared first in Germany in the 13th century.[6] They soon became widespread with the rise of snug-fitting garments in 13th- and 14th-century Europe.” I kinda believe it. If you look closely, characters’ clothes are always tied together or wrapped in some way with a belt. If there are fasteners, they’re braided frog closures that go into a little loop, like the qipao-style dresses women wear in Ba Sing Se, or Zuko’s casual prince’s clothes in the topmost image. Anyways, I don’t think Zuko or Azula or the Gaang would technically button or unbutton anything when they’re changing clothes. Clothing is designed to be tied, not buttoned.

[so much more under cut]

c) This isn’t a real rule, but there’s something called koromogae, or the seasonal changing of clothing in Japan.

This is something I learned when I was writing firebender’s guide, and I just liked the fun detail about there being a strict calendar for when to wear something. I liked the idea of someone like Zuko, who actually spent most of his formative years outside of the Fire Nation, coming home and just suffering mutely through the summer heat because upper class etiquette says no changing into cooler clothes until August 15.

From My Asakusa:

And this website:

Generally, people change from thick, heavy, dark-coloured clothes for winter to thin, lighter, bright-coloured clothes for spring and summer. In traditional Japanese culture, particularly in formal settings such as tea ceremony, it is important to acknowledge the changes of seasons—in such circumstances, not only the patterns and colours of the kimono that are worn but also the utensils and furniture that are used are required to change. By changing their clothing, people notice and appreciate the change of seasons. [Japan Foundation]

Here are some visual guides from the official creators for clothes: (notice how it’s pretty much always left over right)

2.FOOD AND EATING

a) Traditional cuisine

It seems like the most common foods in canon are Fire Flakes and meat, to the point where poor Aang had to eat lettuce out of the garbage at some point.

HOWEVER, the Fire Nation seems to basically a big subtropical archipelago, so I would guess that seafood and rice are common. If you want to write about characters eating, a. quick google for “traditional japanese cuisine” would help you come up with a menu really quickly.

Wikipedia says:

The traditional cuisine of Japan, washoku (和食), lit. "Japanese eating" (or kappō (ja:割烹)), is based on rice with miso soup and other dishes; there is an emphasis on seasonal ingredients. Side dishes often consist of fish, pickled vegetables, and vegetables cooked in broth. Seafood is common, often grilled, but also served raw as sashimi or in sushi.

But before we get too serious, at one point the Gaang eats a “smoked sea slug” (Sokka’s Master)

Oh ATLA, never stop being you.

b) Utensils

One thing to keep in mind is chopstick etiquette. Someone like Zuko or Toph, for instance, would have completely internalized all of these.

Another thing is that there are no glasses. Cups and bowls are made of ceramic or clay. Let the Gaang show you:

And another note: characters won’t eat “bread” in the European sense, ie. a baked lump of dough. Steamed buns, yes. Fried pancakes made from batter, yes. Flatbreads, okay I’ll give it a pass. Rice or noodles should be the most common carbs of choice.

3.ETIQUETTE

“In the homeland, we bow to our elders” - angry schoolmistress in The Headband.

Japan Guide has a list of etiquette rules for visiting Japan, which is interesting but not too necessary to read. In general, based on what The Headband tells us, Fire Nation characters would have been raised with a strong nationalist curriculum that values communal contribution over individualist expression. Even someone like Zuko, who openly rebels against that, probably couldn’t help but be affected by it. In general the Fire Nation seems to have an East Asian-ish set of values. It’s patriarchal, all the positions of authority are filled by men; there seems to be a strong emphasis on patriotism; there’s a sense of diffidence and respect towards one’s elders; and finally, there’s an emphasis on “knowing” one’s place in society and fitting into what’s expected of oneself.

I don’t really know how to describe it, but in China and Japan I sometimes feel like there’s rules for everything, and even people born and raised there acknowledge it could be stifling at times. You could go down a rabbit hole researching points of etiquette (for instance, rules on who has to sit where in group dinners...), but to me the most important thing is acknowledging that Fire Nation has a rigid system of etiquette, and also, they’re an imperialist power who’s pretty prejudiced against foreigners. Poor Aang/Kuzon gets called “mannerless colony slob” just for being slow on the bowing action (!!!)

(in firebender’s guide I had a lot of fun imagining the stupid microaggressions Ambassador Sokka has to face in the Fire Nation, so obviously I’m just biased)

4.WRITING AND DESKS

Characters would probably write on paper, with a calligraphy brush. Not quills or pens -- a brush. Technically, old Japanese and Chinese texts should be written top to bottom, right to left, but the show itself doesn’t do this, so I think you’re fine.

One fun thing about traditional calligraphy is that you don’t use bottled ink. You have something called an ink stone, and then you grind your ink yourself by rubbing the ink stone in a special little dish with a bit of water. In my (very few) encounters with this stuff in the calligraphy lessons of my youth, the ink stones can be plain or have beautiful designs on the side. It looks something like this:

ATLA is an East Asian-ish universe, so characters are likely to be kneeling at a table, not sitting. To demonstrate, here’s my boy Sokka doing his famous rainbow at Piandao’s:

and here’s the war chamber meeting when Zuko speaks out against a general’s plans to sacrifice some soldiers:

THERE ARE EXCEPTIONS: This is Zuko’s cute little setup when he’s writing his goodbye letter to Mai. In this case he’s writing in a chair and table. It’s possible that some furniture items, like a sitting desk and a bed in a bedframe (not a bedroll or futon) are special royal palace features. Normally in a private setting we see characters sitting on the ground or on a slightly elevated platform with a low table. Maybe Caldera is just different? Or rich people are just different: the Bei Fongs also have a sit-down dining table + chair setup.

(That little rectangular box is his ink dish!!)

5.A NOTE ON GENERAL CULTURE

It’s worth talking about a few general points of East Asian culture. I can’t claim to speak for ALL of Asia, and I don’t think I should. But I do think ATLA fic writers who want to set something in the Fire Nation should take a few moments to at least skim the wiki pages for filial piety and Nihonjinron (literally, "theories/discussions about the Japanese"). There’s a certain...vibe to...asianness... that I’m not sure I can explain without like, a doctorate degree in sociology.

It’s a bit like gender, I guess. There’s no definitive checklist to what is a woman and what is a man, and we can argue that gender is performative, that it’s a construct, but at the end of the day gender is still (tragically) real in the sense that it still shapes people and affects how we walk and talk and dress and think. Nationality is the same. Obviously, the Fire Nation is a made up place in a made up show, but out of respect to the cultures that inspired it, I do think it’s worth familiarizing yourself with some of these cultures’ codes and values.

Also, ahem, if I can direct you to war crimes in the Japan’s colonial empire. Again, worth remembering that the Fire Nation was an imperalist colonizer too.

I might do a continuation of this post and talk through my more abstract takes about Fire Nation culture - Is Zuko an example of filial piety gone right or filial piety gone wrong? Why I think Zuko’s flashbacks are like, at least part teenage melodrama bullshit (the reason is son preference), how someone like Sokka might be treated once he’s openly Water Tribe in the Fire Nation (probably with racism...), specific aspects of asian homophobia and racism, etc. We’ll see.

This is not a definitive guide. Comments and critique welcome.

If you think there’s a factual mistake, PLEASE hop in my asks and let me know. I also think there’s a huge blind spot in ATLA for South and Southeast Asian representation, so I acknowledge that I can’t speak for all Asians, and there is no such thing as a “pan-asian” identity.

If there’s something else you’re curious about, I’m not a historian or anything, but I like research. Ask me and I’ll try to answer the best I can.

And oh, one last thing, this is how I do research when I wrote firebender’s guide, in case anyone’s interested in learning more (LINK)

#Avatar The Last Airbender #zukka #atla fic #my fic #fire nation

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harleysarchive · 4 years ago

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Monegasque Kiss | Charles Leclerc

Fandom: Formula one Warning: My favorite trope, pining after each other and then confess your love. Friends to lovers. 2500 words. I enjoyed writing this a LOT. Pairing: Charles Leclerc x neutral!reader Summary: You and Charles are pining after one another and it ends up with a kiss, with some help from Pierre Gasly

A/N: Once again I’m thanking Screnwriter’s prompts, nr. 10, for sparking my inspiration to write, your prompts are the best! Gif by dams-racing. Honestly, I’m having such a blast writing for Charles and the other drivers, it really inspires me to continue writing.

There were some perks with being friends with formula one drivers. For instance you could go watch them race and kick ass on the tracks. You had known Charles and Pierre since you were younger. You had the fortune to meet them when they raced go kart and you just happened to be in Monaco on vacation with your family when their race was there. You had met them by accident and the three of you had stayed in touch ever since that day. Even though you couldn’t meet them as much as you wanted, you were happy to accompany them on their races, especially when it was in Monaco.

You were by the docks looking at the people on their boats. Music started blasting through the speakers on the boats and people talked loudly to overpower the sound. Champagne was popping, spilling onto the wooden deck and laughter was heard from tipsy people. Girls were tanning on the deck and guys shouting at the people below. But you loved this, the commotion of people and how happy everyone was.

Screams were heard behind you when you saw that the big screen was showing all the drivers and that the drivers were posing in front of said screen. The crowd cheered the loudest when Charles' face was shown and he walked in front of it. Your heart made a jump when you saw him. Ever since that day many years ago, you had had a crush on Charles. But there was no way in hell that you were going to tell him that. Your friendship were too important to destroy by a stupid crush. But something inside you hoped, wished that he felt the same towards you.

Pierre had seen you on the docks and made his way over to you, hugging you from behind. You shrieked, but soon relaxed when you realized who it was. Pierre laughed loudly at your reaction.

“Pierre, you scared the living shit out of me.” you said and smacked him on the arm. His smile just grew even wider.

“I didn’t know that you would be here so soon, (Y/N). I thought me or Charles were going to pick you up at the airport when you landed.”

“No need to, plus I didn’t want to ruin your fashion show down there.” you said and winked at him. He shoved you slightly which made you giggle. The two of you walked towards one of the cafés. The weather was amazing. You and Pierre caught up with everything while waiting for Charles to arrive. Pierre talked about the race and how he had enjoyed some time to hang out with his friends. You talked about your life and what was going on there. This was the first race that you could attend in Europe and you were happy that it was in Monaco.

“So, anyone special at home?” he asked, with a look on his face like he knew something. You looked at him suspiciously.

“No, why?”

“Well you are beautiful. I just wondered why you haven’t found someone yet.” his smirk grew.

He definitely knew.

“Thank you, Pierre. I don’t know.” you tried to sound innocent and oblivious. “Maybe I haven’t found the right one.”

“Or the right one haven’t asked you.” he mumbled into his coffee, which made you turn bright red.

Charles was on his way to your location and he had stopped by a flower shop to buy you some flowers. It had been ages since he had seen you and he wanted to give you something. He had seen you and Pierre hug on the docks, which made him feel a wave of jealousy crash inside of him. But he didn’t want to admit it to himself. The two of you were friends, nothing more, nothing less. But god did he hope for more.

He rounded the corner to see the two of you talking at the café. The sting of jealousy came back again, because it looked like the two of you were on a date. But he tried to dismiss the thought and put on the biggest smile on his face. Pierre saw him first and waved him over, which made you turn to face him. Charles stopped in his tracks when his eyes met yours. His stomach filled with butterflies and he could feel his face getting flustered.

You rose from your chair to run to him and you gave him the biggest hug.

“God how I have missed you, Charles.” you said. He hugged you back and inhaled your scent. How he had missed your hugs and your scent.

“I have missed you so much, (Y/N).”

He let go of you.

“These are for you.”

He gave you the flowers he had bought and you had the biggest smile plastered on your face.

“You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

“Thank you so much, Charles.” you beamed and smelled the flowers.

The two of you joined Pierre by the café and continued your chat for some time. You talked about everything and nothing.

“(Y/N), you should join us tonight at the party.” Pierre said.

“There’s a party tonight?”

“Yes, it’s on one of the yacht’s by the dock. I’m sure that you can come as our plus one.” Pierre said and winked at you, which made Charles' expression sour.

“Sounds fun and I get to hang out with you guys even more.” you smiled.

“Great, there will be more formula one drivers there tonight. But just stay close to us and you’ll be fine.”

“What time is it?”

“Around seven.”

“Great, can you pick me up by my hotel before that?”

“Of course.” they both said.

You grabbed your flowers and left them to get ready for the party. Inhaling the scent one once again and felt the butterflies go nuts in your stomach.

He gave you flowers!

At the hotel you had packed some more fancy clothes, in case this happened and now you were extremely happy that you did. You were done just in time when someone knocked on your door. Outside stood Charles in a blue shirt and he looked ravishing. You opened and his face flustered by your fancy attire.

“Wow, you look amazing.” he breathed. You blushed by his comment and invited him in. He closed the door and sat down on the bed.

“You know, you could’ve stayed at my place for your time here.” Charles said. You froze by his statement and he saw your reaction and he could feel the panic grow inside him.

“I-if you wanted, that is.” he stuttered trying to save the situation. “You are always welcome, you know.”

His hand touched his neck in a nervous gesture and his face was even more flustered than before. You tried to not think too much about what he said, he wanted to be a kind friend towards you. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Thank you, Charles. I will surely take that offer next time I’m in Monaco to see you.” you said and took one last glance in the mirror before the two of you headed for the lobby. The ride towards the party was fun, the two of you cracked jokes which made you cry with laughter. Charles felt proud that he could make you laugh like this and he enjoyed that the two of you were alone.

On the yacht there were people everywhere, talking, drinking, you think you saw someone making out with someone behind the stairs. To give the lovely couple some privacy you turned around to walk over to the bar. Charles and Pierre had to do some interviews and mingle with the bosses and such, which made you stand alone for a while. But you didn’t care, because then you could watch the different people that were at the party. You saw Lewis Hamilton, Max Verstappen and Sebastian Vettel. In one corner you could see Daniel Ricciarido laugh with some people you didn’t recognize.

Sebastian had seen you alone and came up to you. Charles had introduced you when Sebastian was racing for Ferrari and you could tell that Charles looked up to Sebastian. The two of you got along well as well, which made Charles even more happy. However, Sebastian could see the looks the monegasque racer gave you when you weren’t looking. The wistful and yearning looks that only a love-sick person could give. The slight tint of pink on his cheeks whenever you gave him attention or how his attention or body was always turned towards you, no matter what.

“Hey, (Y/N).” he said and embraced you.

“Hey, Sebastian.”

“Enjoying the party?” he said and let go of you.

“It’s nicer now that I have someone to talk to.” you joked and looked over to Pierre and Charles doing some interviews with reporters. Sebastian could see the look you gave them, especially Charles. He felt bad for you that you felt alone.

“Well, I can introduce you to some people if you want?” he asked. You nodded and followed him towards the crowd of the other racers. You met Max, Sergio and Lewis.

Charles had glanced over at you to see that you were doing okay, but that wave of jealousy came crashing inside of him when he saw you talking to the other racers. And with the jealousy came the worry. You turned around to meet his piercing eyes and you smiled at him. His insides melted by your smile and some of the worry and jealousy went away. Some of it, but not all.

When the interview was over he and Pierre went over to the bar. Charles ordered two drinks, one for him and one for you.

“Some encouragement?” Pierre asked.

“For what?”

“Asking (Y/N) to be yours?”

Charles almost choked on air by Pierre’s statement.

“What are you talking about? She is a friend.”

“Yeaaah, a friend that you like… or even more than that.”

Charles just shook his head and headed over to you. You smiled at him when he reached you and someone said that we should continue the conversation on the sofas nearby. The crowd started moving towards the sofas and somehow you didn’t get a seat. Pierre came by to slightly nudge you so that you lost your balance and landed in Charles lap.

“I’m so sorry.” you said frantic, feeling yourself getting flustered, but not as flustered as Charles. You tried to get up from his lap, but he wouldn’t let you.

“I-it’s fine. You can sit here, since there is no other room for you to sit.” he stuttered and eyed Pierre. Pierre just raised his glas towards him and continued his conversation with Esteban. Trying his best to look innocent, but it was exactly the opposite. You nodded and tried your best not to blush profusely. His body was radiating so much heat and you took some deep breaths and tried to relax. But the tention between you and Charles. You could cut it with a knife and you bet that the both of you were blushing messes at the moment. Charles didn’t know where to keep his hands and you didn’t want to move around to much. Charles wanted to both kill Pierre for doing this and thank him at the same time. But now he mostly wanted to kill him. You could feel how stiff your posture was in his lap and tried your best to not lean against him too much. But you wanted too. Charles' hand found its way on your lower back, to act as a backrest. You tried to act cool, but this whole situation made your mind and body freak out. How could you focus on anything else than Charles hand on you back? His warm body and his muscular thighs which you were currently sitting on?

You tried to continue your conversations with the boys. Throughout the night Charles got more and more bold with his actions. It started with that he rested his other hand on your thigh, which made you freeze when he did it, but you soon relaxed to his touch. Then he started to pull you closer to his chest so you were resting against his chest. You could feel it rise up and down, but he hoped that you couldn’t hear his racing heart over how close you were to him. Your arms snaked around his waist and you rested your head against his shoulder. He had a hard time breathing normally with you so close to him.

Later that evening Pierre joined you, which made you break apart from your cozy situation. You and Pierre were talking about some silly things, as usual, and now there was room for you to sit on the sofa, but you didn’t want to leave Charles' lap. Somehow, you had gotten into the topic of different kissing techniques. This made Charles pull you even closer to himself, as he didn’t like the topic that you and Pierre were discussing.

“Have you ever had a french kiss (Y/N)?”

“No, I don’t think so, why?”

“Well, there are a lot of french people here, would you like to try it with a real french man?” he smirked and you burst into laughter, which made you fall of Charles lap and landed between the boys instead. This made Charles expression sour even more. You and Pierre shared a loud and long laughter by what Pierre just said, but Charles… not so much. His eyes darkened as he looked over to his best friend.

“In your dreams, Pierre.” you said and dried away some tears and shoved him away from you.

“Perhaps, but it is certainly in someone else’s dreams.” he said and patted you on the knee and left. You looked at him confused and then turned around to Charles. His eyes were still dark as he followed Pierre, but his flustered cheeks told you something else.

“Do you know what he was talking about?”

Charles’ directed his attention towards you again, trying his best to look unbothered.

“No.” he lied.

You shrugged your shoulders and rose from the sofa.

“Come on, let’s look over the city.”

You grabbed his hand, feeling more bold now that you had sat in his lap for most of the evening. You dragged him towards the railing and looked over Monte Carlo. You hadn’t let go of his hand when you looked over the city. He drew you closer to him and you let your head rest on his arm. Then his curiosity sparked from the conversation you had with Pierre before.

“You haven’t had a french kiss?”

“No, I haven’t.” you laughed but tried to hide the nerves and your embarrassment over the topic. Charles nodded and turned around to face you. You looked at him curiously, which made his stomach do flips. How gorgeous you looked in this light, or in every light for that matter. Your smile, your hair, your laughter, you personality, it was all perfection to him. A wave of confidence crashed inside of him and he saw his chance now. He wanted to be with you and he hoped that you felt the same towards him.

It’s now or never, he thought.

“Well if you haven’t had a french kiss, you probably haven’t had a monegasque kiss.” Charles said with a smirk on his face. He let his hand touch your arm slightly, drawing circles on it.

“A monegasque kiss? What is that?” you asked.

“It’s like a french kiss but better.”

“Better?”

“Yes, because it is with me... “ Charles leaned in closer to you. “And you.”

He closed the gap between the two of you. One of his hands grabbed your cheek while the other hand was on your lower back, pulling you closer to him. Sparks flew as your bodies touched and you stopped breathing for a second, which made Charles nervous. But you soon realized what was happening and you moved in sync with his lips. It felt like no time had passed but your lungs were screaming for air. You broke apart from the kiss, looking into each other’s eyes.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that.” Charles breathed. You just beamed over what had just happened. Charles’ hand caressed your cheek.

“So… What Pierre said about me kissing a certain someone in a certain someone’s dreams. Was that you?”

“Guilty.” He said and from the back you could hear Pierre cheering and shouting something like ‘finally you guys did it!’.

You just laughed and kissed Charles again, which would be one of many kisses to come and quite frankly, you enjoyed the monegasque kiss much more than you would ever like any other kiss in the future.

A/N: Thank you for reading! 🥰

TAGS: @ohmyolympusssy @baueoud @marvelishgirl

#charles leclerc oneshots #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagines #f1 fandom #f1 imagine #f1 #imagine #imagines #charles leclerc imagines #harleysarchive

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phykios · 4 years ago

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

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

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

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

Percy might hate college.

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

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

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

“How bad is it?”

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

“Ouch.”

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

Her mouth twists in sympathy. “Sucks.”

“Yep.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds good.”

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

Percy slams the computer shut.

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” Percy chuckles, uneasy.

Several seconds pass.

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

Spoiler alert: it doesn’t get much better.

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

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

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

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

“Uh… sure. I’d love to.”

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

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

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

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

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

Percy nods. Amphibious? “Uh-huh.”

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

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

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

“Where were they sailing through?” Percy asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He coughs, shrugging his shoulders. “Sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t forget--”

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

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

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

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

“I think you should consider majoring in history.”

Percy’s head snaps up. “History?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not?”

“Because… it's too easy?”

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

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

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

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

By morning, he has a response.

Sounds good! Looking forward to it.

***

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

“Hey mom.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

“An A!”

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

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

“Thanks, mom.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why can’t he stop smiling? “Thanks.”

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

“It does.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks mom. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

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

Maybe college won’t be so bad after all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Deal.”

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

He sighs. “You guys are idiots.”

“Frank!”

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

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

It’s… not what he expected.

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

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

And, well. Percy can handle the sea.

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

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

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

Thirty minutes later, he is well and truly wasted.

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

She snorts, grinning at him. “Thanks.”

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

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

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

“You did.”

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

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

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

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

“Gross.”

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

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

“Greek Fire bombs. Five.”

“You’re a psychopath.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” he hisses, glaring.

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

“The what?”

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

“That doesn’t help.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Some mistakes may have been made.

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

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

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

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

Nico gaped, staring. "What."

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

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

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

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

"It was your idea!"

"I don't have good ideas."

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

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

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

“Seriously?”

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

Freak. Percy would die for the kid.

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

“You’re so weird.”

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

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

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

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

“Shh!” Nico hisses.

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

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

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

That mouth opens, soundlessly, jaw working on nothing.

“Speak.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nico’s eyes widen.

Percy stares. “What.”

“I didn’t stop the ritual.”

His stomach goes cold.

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

Percy can’t speak, mouth dry.

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

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

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

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

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

“Annabeth.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was the best compliment he had gotten.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods. “Very interesting.”

Percy stares. Can this guy say anything else?

“This is very well done, young man.”

Oh. “Thank you,” he says.

“Who are you working with?”

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

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

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

“I’m sorry?”

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

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

“Who was that?” Annabeth asks.

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

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

Five hundred?! “Fuck me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His mouth goes dry. “Um…”

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

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

Annabeth, behind him, coughs.

“S-sure. No problem.”

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

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

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

Percy relaxes. He’s got this.

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

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

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

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

And they certainly seem impressed with his talk so far.

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

Well, most of them, anyway.

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

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

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

“And how big were these models?”

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

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

Percy freezes. “Uh.”

Oh, shit.

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

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

In the corner of his eye, Annabeth facepalms.

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

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

Annabeth adds a second hand to her facepalm.

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

“At my… summer camp…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A little.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Surprising, but definitely not unwelcome.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Percy straightens his back. Peace?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

“The ones in the British Museum.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She smiles, waving her little fists.

Gods he loves this little monster.

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

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

The baby says nothing.

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

Junie blinks at him.

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

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

Percy sighs. Dammit.

Time for a new project, he guesses.

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He might be in over his head a little.

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

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

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

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

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He stops.

He squints at one of his doodles.

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

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

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

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

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

No response.

Percy approaches the table.

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

Percy picks up the book, squinting.

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

He looks at his napkin drawing. Blurry and smudged.

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

Blurry and smudged.

Percy stares.

It… can’t be that simple, can it?

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

And he closes his computer.

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

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

“Daw-fins, daddy,” she says, smiling.

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

***

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

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

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

“Update in the Parthenon marbles thing.”

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

He shows her his phone.

Her eyes go wide as saucers. “Damn.”

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

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

He starts. “What did you say?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Annabeth takes her without a second glance.

Then she does take a second glance.

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

Annabeth gapes.

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

Annabeth just stares. Junie babbles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Percy nearly drops the bottle. “No shit?”

“Big dude, long mustache, writes poetry?”

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

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

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

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

“No, why do you ask?”

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

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

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

“Can do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Peas,” Junie says.

“Oh, you want peas instead?”

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

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

“Chip off the old block,” Annabeth says.

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

“I’m doing my best here, okay?”

***

Hardrada is… not what he expected.

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

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

“And what about Lover?”

“What about Lover?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He gets no response.

Percy looks up, confused. “Annabeth?”

“In the bathroom,” he hears, faintly.

“Everything okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That gets his attention.

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

“Is that…?”

“Yep.”

“Oh.”

Her smile falls. “Are you mad?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Jackson,” she corrects.

“Huh?”

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

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

“Then let’s make it happen.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Psst.”

Jamie looks up.

There’s a four year old staring at her.

“Hi,” Jamie says.

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

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

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

“Bello,” says Junie.

Jamie blinks. “Sorry?”

“Legistne carmen longum de bello Troiano.”

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

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

Junie beams at her.

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

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

Jamie points to the one after that.

“Rex qui pontem fecit erat Ancus Martius.”

“Awesome.”

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

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

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

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

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

She really should have just stuck with German instead.

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

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