#you read the first couple pages thinking ah yes i can see what's going on

[pirateprincessblog]

𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐄

( 𝟎.𝟏 ) 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲.

𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨:

normal is good. it's safe. it isn't risky. and yet, normal is boring. normal job, normal family, normal relationship. makes you yawn just while reading, doesn't it? escaping it can cost a fortune, even if it is for a short, fun amount of time. when it gets bad, you don't get to regret. you don't get to complain. you don't get to cry. you don't get to go back. you wanted it. now bear the losses of your own decisions. you'll wish for things to get boring again. you'll wish to never feel an ounce of excitement again. you'll wish to be wrapped in your safety bubble, with your safe little family, safe little job, and safe little partner. and it just won't come.

!𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬! 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞: 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: park seonghwa x oc (alice dawson) x jung wooyoung 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.4k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: dilf!hwa, collegestudent!wooyoung, love triangle, dilf trope, eventual smut, angst, fluff 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: yet to come

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mentions of illness, mentions of drug abuse, mentions of domestic violence, MINORS DNI (18+) 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: this series will be around 10-15 chapters :) please don't hesitate to leave feedback! thank you for reading <33 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

were you ever afraid of thinking about something risky while surrounded by people?

if yes, alice knows exactly how you feel. behind the dusty wooden counter, she hides a book. her eyes abandon the words she has read a dozen times this year already, checking if anyone is giving her weird looks. her thoughts are a loud mess, and she fears that one of those hard-working students might secretly have super hearing powers and is judging her right now. but when she notices no side eyes, her gaze drops on the worn-off pages again. this book set cost her a fortune, and it already looks like it has been through at least two major historical events. heaven forbid that her mother knows how much money she spent on that.

her heart beats faster with each word she reads, fingers excitedly flipping the pages, even though she knows all the plot twists, all the foreshadowing, a few little plot holes that only a small number of people have noticed. she wishes she could read it all for the first time again. the storyline, the characters, the villains, the twists, the tension, the steam. alice's favourite part in all the books. the steamy pages, written by her favourite author, making her sigh and roll in bed late at night as she reread them. sleepless nights spent with her eyes unfocusing and blurring out the words, her thoughts drifting away from the storyline and creating one of her own, using the very same characters. she would sit like that, fantasising, until a sound from the street would bring her back to the original story.

last night was similar, which is why she is barely keeping her eyes open while skimming over the room, checking for odd glares one more time. when she finds none, she continues daydreaming. the villain of the book has captured her heart, no matter the bad things he has done throughout the journey. she might just have a thing for evil, sassy, good-looking men. or she might have a thing for imaginary men with tongue skills.

"ah, your daily dose of porn, i see."

alice looks up, startled. she closes the book, throwing it in the already opened drawer and shuts it with a loud thud, making a few heads turn. the face standing above the counter chuckles, eyes turning into crescent moons as he does so.

"hush!"

"oh, relax. you have like three couples doing no-nos back there in the criminal section. your little mediocre book is nothing compared to them."

the girl furrows her eyebrows. her book wasn't mediocre. it was a masterpiece.

"what did you want?" she asks, annoyed with his teasing this early in the morning.

"i can't come and greet my favourite redhead in town?" the young man asks, his lips still in a teasing smile.

"not if you're going to be loud and disrupt. this is a library, not a bar."

"ha-ha. i forget just how witty my girlfriend is." he rolls his eyes. "luckily, you're pretty to make up for your lack of sense of humour."

"and your humour makes up for your lack of pretty." she tries to poke back, but it just doesn't sound right.

the young man laughs, sincerely, and rests his elbows on the wooden surface.

"you're cute when you try. you'd be even cuter if you were to join me in one of those horror sections. you know, to read. i love me some stephen king. i also love me some puss-"

"shut up, oh my god." alice hushes him, feeling her cheeks starting to burn from embarrassment.

"oh, come on. you haven't been over to my place in days. weeks even, i think."

"wooyoung," she exhales.

"yeah, sorry." the young man suddenly remembers, then scratches his neck from the little uncomfortable situation he has created. "how is your mom?"

"she has lost a lot of hair." alice says, eyes drifting towards the big library windows. "she has also lost a lot of weight. she still refuses to eat. she has already given up on herself."

wooyoung sighs, seeing his girlfriend show different emotions than last week. she has become numb to the whole situation. her mother has been sick for a very long time, and no amount of doctors, medicine, and persuading could convince her mother to start taking care of herself when alice wasn't around. now, alice has given up. she is angry with her mother, and that doesn't allow her to feel sad or bad for her.

"want me to come with you next time you visit her?"

"that would be today."

"yes, sure. of course. just tell me when."

"i finish at two, when rae arrives. i'll wait for you by the car?"

"i'll be there as soon as my classes are over. promise." wooyoung smiles at her.

there's a brief moment of silence, giving space for both of them to think. alice's mind went from fantasising to worrying, and wooyoung hates that he reminded her of the situation and changed her mood.

"baby?" he calls.

she hums, still a little absent.

"you haven't kissed me today."

alice looks at her boyfriend, heart swelling with guilt. her face drops, and wooyoung's eyes widen seeing her saddened expression.

"i'm so sorry," she says, voice almost a whisper.

"oh, no, no! baby, i just- hey, it doesn't matter. i'm sorry, okay? you're going through something tough, and my behaviour isn't quite helping. i'm being a dick."

alice stands up, hands gently cupping her boyfriend's face. her eyes examine his face, taking in his pretty features. she didn't mean what she said earlier, and she knows that he knows too. she smiles softly at him, assuring him that everything is fine and there is no need to apologise.

"i love you." she whispers.

and just like that, wooyoung softens in her hands, lips melting into hers as he finally kisses her for the first time in three days. it has become hard to catch her since she started working, especially since she runs to the hospital whenever she gets a chance. other times, she prefers laying in bed with little to no lighting, doing nothing but laying down and thinking of a way out of what her life has become.

wooyoung wishes he could help her. but what can he do, when they both refuse his help? he now realises where alice's stubbornness comes from. he smiles into the kiss, thinking about her stubborn nature combined with her impatience. she is a little handful, but she is his handful. and he will hold her until his last breath.

༺═━─━────༺༻────━─━═༻

while people tend to hate hospitals, alice likes it. it brings her comfort, knowing that the people around her are in charge of saving lives. she often visited hospitals as a toddler, due to often sickness. she is very prone to colds, and wooyoung has found himself getting mad at her very often because she refuses to wear a jacket when needed.

"but my outfit won't be visible!" she'd complain.

"i don't care. your kidneys are more important than a crop top. and i can't have you with a runny nose again. you know you have a hard time breathing as it is, the cold only makes everything worse."

"you just know it all, don't you?" she'd say, annoyed, while her fingers work the zipper of wooyoung's jacket.

jung wooyoung doesn't have any plans for the future, other than hopefully marrying alice and creating a family with her. he is a college student, yes. but only because his parents forced him to. he doesn't know what he wants in his life. alice is smart. she also doesn't know, so she simply didn't go to college. smart decision. it is crazy expensive, and managing those costs and the costs of healing her mother would be a disaster.

"ms dawson?"

alice stands up, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

"dr clark, good day." she greets, smiling weakly.

"it certainly is a good one, ms dawson. your mother is finally showing improvement!"

alice stands still, not believing what she's hearing. wooyoung notices her lack of response, and gently takes her hand in his, hoping to shake her awake.

"what do you mean?" she asks.

"she ate everything she was offered today, and she took her medication. and yes, we checked under the bed and in the flower vase, there weren't any hidden pills."

"oh, well... that's great."

the sudden change in her mother's behaviour was suspicious to alice. still, she felt relieved. with a thankful smile and a nod towards the young dr clark, the girl took her usual path to room 257, her hand still held by wooyoung's bigger and warmer one. she pushes the door open, her eyes immediately falling on the bed in the corner of the room. out of four beds, only two were now occupied, meaning that the other two had gotten better and were probably at home with their families. it made alice's heart warm.

it made her heart even warmer when her gaze dropped on the woman in the last bed, her head hidden by what seemed like a beauty magazine. fresh flowers stood beside her bed, accompanied by a framed picture and what seemed like a jewellery box.

"mom?"

the woman drops her magazine in her lap, a smile so wide on her face that it made alice's cheeks hurt. god, she looks so different. it wasn't that long since alice's last visit, was it? the woman in the bed wore makeup, her grey hair braided, and a flower head band placed neatly on her head. her nails were painted a golden brown colour, resembling the autumn leaves that tapped on her window on windy days. she dared to say, her mother looked better than her.

"ally, my darling!" the woman calls, tucking the magazine under her pillow.

alice approaches the bed, sitting in the usual stool that was waiting for her under the elevated nightstand.

"eleanor," wooyoung greets, slightly bowing. "you look absolutely beautiful."

"oh, my, this boyfriend of yours. always a sweet-talker." the woman blushes, waving her hand at the young man. "you are so very lucky, baby, not a lot of boys your age are this sweet. let me tell you, just five minutes ago, amber's son came over, had a fight with her over their house and kicked her out! look, her suitcase is right there!"

"mom, please. can you be any more quiet?"

alice looks over at the other occupied bed, and truly, there stood a suitcase. luckily, the woman was sleeping, so she didn't hear her mother's little gossip party.

"oh, don't worry. the poor woman cried so much that she fell asleep from exhaustion."

silence swallowed the room for a while, eleanor fidgeting with the rings on her fingers. she knew alice had questions. and she dreaded that she had to answer them.

"these aren't the flowers i brought you last time."

"no... no they aren't." she trails, looking anywhere but at her daughter.

"so... whose are they?"

a mumble is heard, and alice raises an eyebrow at her. wooyoung catches a glimpse at the framed picture, but when he fails to recognize the people on it, he shifts his attention back to the woman. she looks at wooyoung, as if searching for a way out of the interrogation that is about to happen. but wooyoung sends her an apologetic smile, and rests his hands on alice's hair, moving it out of her face. he feels like she will need it. there is a reason why her mother is acting so nervous, and when alice is upset, she loves to have her hair played with.

"mom."

"hm? oh. right, the flowers. uh... they're from..."

"mom, cut the bullshit. i'm just curious. so what if a friend brought them over? you have a new crush in town? dr clark not cute anymore?"

"oh, no! dr clark is very cute. and very young. and he is married, sadly for me. no, these are from, uh..."

alice grows impatient, a frown already forming on her face. wooyoung senses her tense state, and gently drops his hand on her shoulder, massaging the knot below her neck. she sighs, and looks at him as a way of saying thank you. silent conversations were common between the two, and it just showed how well they read each other. how much they love each other.

wooyoung presses his lips to her temple, and gently caresses her back as her mother prepares to give an answer.

"so?"

"so what?" eleanor acts dumb, still hoping that alice will give up.

"mom. the flowers. the jewellery. the makeup. the nails. the picture."

the girl finally takes the framed picture. she recognizes her young mother, her bright ginger hair falling in waves on her shoulder, green irises almost invisible because of her big smile and closed eyes. the man, however, she does not recognize.

"from your father."

wooyoung halts his movements. alice sits still, her gaze not leaving the picture.

"what?"

"your father. he came every day since your last visit, and brought me all these flowers, made me the crown, even painted my nails-"

"i didn't know they let drug addicts inside hospitals."

wooyoung gulps, watching eleanor's jaw drop at her daughter's numbness to the new situation they have found themselves in.

"isn't that, like, very unsafe? for both parties?"

"you shut your mouth, right now. your father is a good man."

"he is not my father, and he is certainly not a good man."

the woman's face twists into one of anger, hands turning white as she grips the sheets she's covered with. "he is your god damn father, whether you like it or not."

"he is a scumbag. that's all he is. and, he is the reason you're here. isn't it? have you forgotten?"

"alice..." wooyoung tries, but stops when alice raises her hand as a sign to stop talking.

"didn't he throw you down the fucking stairs and smash your head through the window?"

"that was years ago, alice. you were barely four."

"and yet i remember."

"you're acting as if he killed me."

"he drugged you all the time! and you became an addict, just like him!"

the dark past resurfaces so easily, pulling both women under it's veil and swallowing them with grief. so many tears spilled, so many bruises earned, and so many cuts treated. alice was only three when it all begun, and she still wonders how it all escalated so quickly in a span of just three months. from only name calling and occasional yelling, to full fist and kick fights and screaming for help. only for her mother to go back to him, too afraid and in love to let go. and each morning the same. three months of alice finding herself in crossfire, earning new bruises every other day, and crying all night long.

she loved her mother, and she loved her father a little less every day. strangely enough, there used to be days when the house was as peaceful as it used to be before her father became what he became. she didn't know why, or how. all she knew was that she was grateful. and that whatever pills dad was slipping mom in her drinks and food were, they worked, and alice guarded them in the cupboard with her life. years later, she realized what the pills were. pills, powder, injections, you name them. by the time the monster left the house, the woman was already hooked. she craved more, and more, and didn't have any. who was at fault for that? alice.

alice was the first thing eleanor saw in the morning, and the last thing she saw in the evening. she was there, consistently needing attention, food, love. and eleanor was exhausted. she just wanted her happy pills. and what other way to express your frustration, than to punish a child who just doesn't shut the fuck up?

wooyoung presses a kiss on her head, in hopes of pulling her out of her memories. he knew that she was thinking of old times, of the man from the picture. and he knew that won't do good to her.

"what did he want?" she calmly asks, fidgeting with the frame. she wished for nothing more than to burn the picture, and throw it at the old house, letting it burn the pain away. if only it worked that way.

"why do you think he would want something?"

"mom."

eleanor sighs, in disbelief. or defeat. wooyoung can't tell yet. she looks around the room, trying to find the right words so she wouldn't further hurt her daughter. though the damage was already done, and wooyoung couldn't see how she could further worsen it. until she opened her mouth again.

"he asked for money."

"what?!"

"but look, i-it's just for a new place, so we can all be together again!"

"what?!?!"

alice stands up, head in her hands and legs carrying her hurriedly around the room. wooyoung plops down on the nearby empty bed, feeling his heart swelling at the sight of his loving girlfriend lose control over her emotions. but he knows better than to interfere. he just needs to let her do what she needs to do.

"alice, please. i just want a family. a proper family."

"well you sure as fuck aren't getting that from him! how much?"

"what?"

"how fucking much?!"

"all of it! god, just stop screaming at me!"

now the other woman was the one holding her head, while the younger one shot her head up wide-eyed.

"all... of it?"

"yes, yes! all of it! he wants to create a better future for us and you're acting like a fucking lunatic for no re-"

"you- you bitch."

a gasp escapes the young man's mouth, and he looks over to the woman in bed for her reaction. she grits her teeth, trying to keep her composure. wooyoung notices how red her eyes have become, and how glossy they look. she is trying her best not to let her tears spill, but the more she looks at alice, the less control she has. she watches as her daughter grabs the picture and smashes it on the floor. when alice grabs her shoulders and starts shaking her, screaming in her face, she loses it. big drops roll down her cheeks and neck, ruining the makeup she had so carefully put on.

wooyoung hated that he couldn't help. the best way of helping was to stay back and do nothing. no matter what he said, it would only light up the fire in one of them, if not both. so wooyoung settled for glancing over at the stranger in the other bed, giving her a nod as a sign that everything is okay and that she doesn't need to worry. he doesn't know if it managed to calm the woman or not, because he gets pulled into the mess by eleanor. she grabs his wrist, pulling him closer as if asking for help.

"wooyoung can't help you right now! let go of him!"

"wooyoung, please- please! i only wanted to make it better for us-" she hiccups through sobs, desperately clawing at wooyoung's hand.

alice yanks his hand out of hers, and when a loud slap echoes through the room, wooyoung decides it is time to finally step in. alice might get mad, hell, she might even slap him too, but he doesn't care.

"alice." he sternly says, grabbing her shoulders.

"no, we're not doing this! wooyoung, i am breaking my back every day, i am working overtime, running here making sure she eats and stops acting like a child, only for her to give away all my hard work for empty promises?! to who?! a man who doesn't even recognize me anymore?!"

she is furious. she sees red. no amount of comforting from wooyoung's side will make her calm down.

"take me home."

"are you sure-"

before wooyoung can finish, he can only catch a glimpse of her dark red locks bouncing as she rushes out of the door, slamming it shut after.

"wooyoung, please talk to her."

the man sighs, torn between the two women. he hates this. letting people down. but more than that, he hates letting his girlfriend down.

"i'm sorry, eleanor. there's nothing i can do."

he gently picks up the picture from the floor, careful with the cracked glass, and places it on the nightstand. he glances at the older woman one last time, before sighing and following his girlfriend's path.

[livelaughlovekny]

Hello!! I saw you accept requests so I have a scenario I have in mind, about Muicuiro x demon slayer reader who gave him a little notebook to write things that are important to him because he easly forget things (He might forgot that little notebook tho so the reader will write "A note for important things not to forget") but turns out almost 90% of that book is about the reader! Thanks before, have a great day!

a/n: ahh im so glad you requested this!! ive actually been planning on writing that so your request is perfectly timed oml. unfortunately, i wasnt able to form a full story about this and changed your request slightly! i still hope youll enjoy it!!

  “Tada! This is for you!” Placing a mint green notebook onto his hands, you beamed at him. “I bought this a while ago after my mission but never got the chance to pass it to you.” Muichirou flipped open the book, all the pages were blank. He looked at you quizzically. “I read about it in a book, writing things down can help you remember them better! Even if it didn’t, at least if you forgot something important, you could just refer to this notebook.”

  “I see. Thank you for your thoughtfulness.” You smiled at his bland reply before leaving. Muichirou waited until you were completely out of his line of sight before closing his estate’s door. Placing the notebook on a table, he went back out to the yard to train. When night came, he left to complete missions. The notebook and its purpose were long forgotten.

  A couple weeks later, the both of you had had another training session at the Mist Estate again.  “Thank you for training with me again!” Sitting down on the porch, you swing your feet. “How have you been? Has your memory improved?” Tilting his head to the side, Muichirou thought about it.

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Aww, I was hoping that the notebook would help.”

  “Notebook?” You looked at him, blinking quickly as if to get rid of something stuck in your eye. “Yes, a few weeks ago I suggested you write down important things in the notebook I gave you. Did you lose it?” Muichirou looked as if he was enlightened. “Ah, so that was what the book was for. No, I still have it, I just forgot why you gave it to me.” It wasn’t that you expected this to happen but such things happened too often so you laughed it off. “I see, don’t worry about it. May I enter your home?” He nodded his head. You were the only one who was allowed to enter his estate, perhaps the only one who has even seen it.

  Walking towards his room, you gestured at the closed door, silently asking for permission to enter it which you received immediately. Stepping into his room, you quickly notice the notebook lying on his desk. Grabbing a pen, you wrote on the cover in your neatest handwriting. Leaning over your shoulder, Muichirou read the words aloud, “‘Important Things “smiley face”’.” You looked up and smiled at him. “There you go! Now you won’t forget what this book is for!” Muichirou hummed slightly in response. “Thank you. I’ll try my best to use it to its full potential.” You laughed. 

  Again, he watched you wave goodbye to him and walk away until you were no longer visible. He turned back and sat down in front of his desk. He picked up the pen you used and flipped to the first page of the notebook. He stared at it, wondering what to write. He decided to write the date in the top left corner. He placed the pen down and continued staring at the blank page. There was nothing important to note down at the moment. Muichirou tried recalling his memories, deciding that whatever he remembered was at least important enough to be remembered. The only thing that formed in his mind was your smile and laugh. 

  Not wanting to scribble on the date and wait till next time to write down something else, he decided that writing about you will do for now. “Nice smile and laugh.” He felt uncomfortable writing down your name. A weird feeling would rise up within his chest. Closing the notebook, Muichirou decided that he was done writing for the day and went to the yard to train.

  A few days later, he received a letter from you. The both of you would send each other letters and you usually write about your missions and days while Muichirou would write back just to acknowledge your letters and offer advice if you asked for it. This time, you were writing about how you came across a night fair after a mission, saw the “cutest fox shaped hair piece ever” and enjoyed the “best tasting castella cake ever” and how you wished that the both of you and the other Hashiras could participate in a night fair together. 

  Folding the letter neatly, Muichirou placed the letter in a drawer where he kept your letters. After sending his response, he sat at his desk for a while before taking out his notebook. He flipped to the next empty page. He wrote the date on the top left corner like before. “Likes foxes and castella. Wants everyone to go to night fairs.” Tilting his head to the side, Muichirou wondered what else to add on. Pulling open the drawer where he kept your letters, he took some recent ones out and read them, noting down the parts where you expressed your likes and dislikes. He could practically hear your voice reading them aloud.

  “I was fighting this really mean demon that attacks with flesh-eating slugs. I hate slugs now. I did see a slug-shaped cloud, that wasn’t bad. Cloud gazing is calming, you should try it! You probably do already.”

  “Dandelions are so fun! I finished a mission and on the way back, I walked past a dandelion field. The way they flew was so cool!! I ran around and they all started flying and it was so pretty! I think you might like it too!”

  “You would not believe what I found: a four-leaf clover!! Four-leaf clovers are really rare and lucky and they’re my favourite colour! In case you forgot the colour, it’s green. Green is such a soothing colour! Your hair and eyes are really nice to look at.”

  Carefully reading through your letters multiple times to ensure he didn’t miss out on anything, Muichirou forgot about his daily training. And for the next few days, he would anticipate your letters more than usual, excited to find out more things about you. So as per usual, he gently unfolded the letter he received and read it.

  “…Oh right, are you noting down the important things in the notebook I gave you? If you are, let me know if you think your memory has improved!!”

  “I have been writing down important things and am able to remember them better. Thank you. Would you like to cloud gaze with me after the Hashira meeting next week? I took up your suggestion and did enjoy it.”

Bonus: “The Mist Hashira has sent you a letter!” Smiling at your crow, you thanked it and untied the envelope from its leg. It was rare for him to use an envelope since the both of you only used one to deliver small items. Gently opening the envelope, you find a note and something neatly wrapped. You pick up both items. “Saw this the other day.” Undoing the green wrapping paper, you realised that Muichirou had sent you a fox hair clip.

a/n: wahh i think the "bonus" i write at the end of fics are just time skips since im bad at writing them :'( i tried to not write about mui thinking of you as important and you thinking and caring for him too obviously to show the light-heartedness of your relationship but i think i just kept telling and not showing ahh i hope you guys liked this ohmygosh this is turning into a mini rant

[leiawritesstories]

I saw the below prompt and could easily imagine Aelin running a black market of printing services and I would love to see what kind of favors she’d take from a certain buzzard who is pressed for time.. especially if they’ve maybe been secretly pining after one another this whole time? 👀

Prompt: You’re the only one in our college dorm building that owns a printer so you run a black market of printing services for favors/money/food/etc. I don’t have time to walk twenty minutes across campus to the library, please help me.

Congrats on 500!

ANON DID YOU READ MY MIND????

Okay so.....this is actually real-life me at my college 🤣🤣🤣 I own a desktop printer so I don't have to use the campus printing service all the time and half the people in my building want to use it. Naturally I charge a fee--either money or food or coffee, i'm not picky lol. Anyway this is literally me in real life except for the secretly pining part bc i'm very very single and I adore this prompt, thank you so so much 😁

Here you go!!

Word count: 870

Warnings: maybe some swearing

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hey, Galathynius! Do me a solid?"

Aelin glanced over her shoulder to find Fenrys jogging after her, catching up to her before they made it to the dorm building they both lived in. "What do you want, Moonie?"

The blonde huffed a dramatic sigh. "First of all, stop calling me that, you know it doesn't fit my mature persona." Aelin snorted so hard she almost coughed. Fen just rolled his eyes. "Secondlyyyy," he groaned dramatically, "I need to print a paper. Lemme use your printer? Pretty pretty please?" He widened his big brown eyes irresistibly.

"Your sad puppy face isn't gonna get you free printing, Moonie," Aelin drawled. "A dollar a page, or $30 flat if it's more than 20 pages."

"Highway robbery!" he gasped.

She rolled her eyes. "It's the same price I've always charged and you know it."

"Ugh, fiiiiine," he grumbled. "Unless...how about I cover your coffee for the next week?"

"Hmm." She pretended to seriously think about it, knowing full well that she'd accept. Who was Aelin Galathynius to turn down free coffee, especially when she spent somewhere around 40 dollars a week on her precious caffeine. "All right, I accept. I'll text you my drink order, and I expect it delivered every morning as I leave for my first class."

Fen saluted her. "Yes ma'am!" he chirped.

She smacked his shoulder teasingly. "Cut the flourishing, drama queen." Fen flashed her a grin and jogged off towards his next class, while she swiped her student ID in the building's card reader and walked into the dorm. She, Elide, and Lysandra shared a triple room with an ensuite bathroom on the fourth floor, so she had to climb three flights of stairs to get to her room. As she opened her door, she noticed a sticky note stuck to the wood. It wasn't uncommon; people who wanted to buy her printing service often left notes stuck to her door. She gave the note a cursory glance.

HELP! Need to print 30 pages for 2pm class! -RW, #350

Aelin glanced at her phone. It was 1:15 pm, meaning whoever had left that note was probably pacing around their room in distress right about now. So of course, she decided to go pay Room 350 a little visit.

"Ah, shit!" yelped a male voice from inside the room when she knocked. There was a flurry of noise and stumbling, and a tall guy wearing a UTerr Hockey sweatshirt opened the door, his pale blonde hair a frazzled mess. "Um, hi?"

"Well hello there, Whitethorn," Aelin smirked, delighted to see the normally perfectly put-together Rowan Whitethorn, star defenseman of UTerr Hockey, all flustered over not having printed materials for class.

"Aelin, thank the fuckin' gods," Rowan gasped. "Did you get my note?"

"Mhmm," she hummed, intentionally vague.

"Ae," he groaned, his desperation showing, "can you print my articles? Please?"

"Got payment?"

"I--yeah, gimme a sec." He vanished into his room and banged around for another couple of minutes, rummaging through drawers and probably his closet as he tried to find cash. He reappeared with a sheepish, embarrassed blush staining his chiseled cheeks. "Uh..."

"No cash?" Aelin clicked her tongue softly. "Sorry, Ro. I don't take credit cards."

"Please," he begged, dropping right down to his knees in front of her. "Fuck it, Ae, I'm desperate! I'm fucked if I don't come to class prepared, the professor already thinks all athletes are dumb jocks who pass classes on daddy's money." He clasped his hands together and stared imploringly up at her, his deep green eyes wide and pleading.

A very naughty part of Aelin wanted to tell him all the sinful ways he could pay her for printing his articles. But because she was a mature woman, she kept that part of herself quiet.

"Well," she mused, "I suppose you could offer me a favor, but it better be worth thirty pages."

Rowan closed his eyes and tipped his head back, a soft groan slipping from his lips as he frantically tried to think up a worthy favor. That gods-damned little groan of his did bad, bad things to Aelin's naughty little inner voice.

Or maybe that was just her enormous little crush on him.

"Dinner." Rowan's voice broke through her traitorous wandering thoughts.

"What?"

"I'll buy you dinner," he repeated. "Anywhere you want, as much food as you want. I swear."

Aelin couldn't have stopped her response no matter how hard she tried. "Like a dinner date?"

Rowan's face flushed a surprisingly endearing shade of vibrant pink. "Um...yeah?"

A tiny, pleased smile curled the corners of Aelin's lips, blooming into a full-blown smile the longer she made him squirm. "Okay, I accept. It's a date." Without waiting for his response, she waltzed off.

When she returned to his room, his articles in hand, he was waiting by the door. He took the papers from her with a slow, relieved smile that made a dimple in his left cheek pop out.

"Thanks, Ae."

"Of course." She waved him off. "Better not be late, Ro."

"You too." Her brows furrowed in confusion, and he winked. "Our date, darlin'. Seven o'clock tomorrow. I'll pick you up."

Gods help her, she could not wait.

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@backtobl4ck

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@chronicchthonic14

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

[baek-at-it-again95]

Walk The Plank (K.HJ x fem reader)

Chapter 6: Yunho’s Brother

You had grown up hearing tales about the infamous pirate crew ATEEZ—the fearless, power-hungry men that roamed the seas in search of the most valuable treasure they could lay their hands on. You almost didn’t believe the stories your mother had told you as a child...not until you wound up on their ship  

Warnings for this chapter: cursing, mentions of loss

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading! I can’t believe we’re halfway through the story?! I can’t wait to keep the adventure going :) Ah! Love y’all!

Previous: Chapter 5, Masterlist

Chapter 6: Yunho’s Brother

Sometime in the early morning, you had begun to toss and turn. You had woken up frequently enough to notice Hongjoong slip in and out of his quarters a few times, also unable to rest—just as he had predicted. Because of your restlessness, you sit in the crow’s nest once more, reading the captain’s journal of adventures. The light from the sunrise now illuminates the pages enough for you to blow out your lantern.

The adventure you had started reading about was one where the ATEEZ crew was chasing after people they called the "Guardians". They had stolen Yunho's brother away from him after hearing about his special abilities, and Yunho and his mates were determined to get him back. On the current page, Hongjoong mentions that this encounter was the first of many with the Guardians. They were apparently always up to no good, harming people for the sake of their idea of a perfect society in a perfect timeline.

The description of Yunho's brother lifts the corners of your lips. He seemed lively, intelligent, and most of all, the others seemed to adore him.

"Back up here again, aye?" You startle at the sudden sound of Wooyoung's voice so close to you.

"Yes." You breathe a sigh of relief as he climbs into the crow's nest with you.

"Guess what? I'll have ya know Seonghwa showed me the rest of the alphabet, and me and San read the whole first page! You must be proud, huh?" You giggle at his smugness.

"Very proud, Woo! Say, I am reading of your encounter with what you call the 'Guardians'. Who are they?" you ask. Wooyoung's expression turns sour as the name leaves your lips.

"They are bad people, Y/N. You do not want to run into them. They're greedy beings that commit the worst of the worst. 'For the good of the universe' or something like that. Some fuc—"

"The universe? Are they people from this planet?" you ask. He shrugs.

"God knows. Maybe some of 'em. Hard to tell when they just show up to take things and then leave." Your curious eyes scan through the page and then look back at the man next to you.

"Did you know Yunho's brother?"

Wooyoung looks down at his lap, playing with his hands. "Not for very long. I liked the lad, though. We all did. Just as much as we like Yunho. He was on board for just a couple of weeks. Wherever he is now, I hope he's not suffering."

"Do you think he is alive?" you whisper, squirming as a sick feeling rises in your stomach. You feel like you had known Yunho's brother just by the fond way they speak of him.

"Hard to say. But we feel like if he were, we would have found 'em. Or...maybe he would have found us." Wooyoung's eyebrows furrow. "Mingi kind of reminds Yunho of his brother. He finds comfort in his presence." You can only imagine how Yunho himself must feel.

You decide that it's a good time to change the subject. "I see, my apologies for asking so much. I am sure it is hard for you. Do not mention it to Yunho, yes?"

"I won't tell!" He looks up at you and his adorable smile returns.

"Tell what?" San's head appears above the rim of the crow's nest.

"AH!" You and Wooyoung yelp at the same time, grabbing onto each other.

"HAHA!" The surprise visitor gasps for air after seeing the two of you. Wooyoung gives him an angry look, but his face begins to soften as his best mate continues to smile. "Want to eat together?" San asks, as if giving a peace offering.

"Yes." Wooyoung hops up, taking your arm to help you up as well. "You first, princess." You smile at his endearments; he gives you a different one every time. San climbs down before you and keeps a careful eye on you from below. Wooyoung does the same from above. As soon as he climbs down, Woo is running off to head below deck.

"Wait for us!" San cries, grabbing your hand to pull you after his mate.

***

To your surprise, Yunho and Mingi are the only ones below deck. Everyone else had made their way to perform their morning duties above deck. They must all be up early to prepare for tomorrow.

"Mornin'!" San greets. Yunho and Mingi sigh as Wooyoung comes between them to place his arms over their shoulders. Yunho groans. 

"Too early," says Mingi, throwing back the rest of his rum from the glass he holds. San rolls his eyes and grabs a few pieces of bread to hand to you and Wooyoung. You're so happy to finally have some fresh food now that you had gone to land. You take an apple along with your bread and go to sit atop the bottom stair step. Yunho comes over and sits beside you, his long legs extended in front of him.

"Hey!" Wooyoung whines. You can only assume that his pout is because he had wanted to sit next to you. He settles for the floor in front of you and San sits on a barrel. Mingi hovers beside him, leaning against a wooden post. 

"So..." Yunho starts, taking a bite of his apple. "What are your plans after we get our treasure? You'll be free to go." He gives you a wink.

"Well, I actually have not thought-"

"I've heard tales that ya have to sacrifice someone to get to the Cromer," Mingi interrupts, a suspenseful tone finding his words. "Little Y/N here will be the first to go." He laughs, his broad shoulders shaking. 

"That is complete shit." Yunho chuckles, rolling his eyes.

"Don't scare her!" Wooyoung cries. "It's not true."

"Oh, don't be so sure!" Mingi says. You glare at him with as much hatefulness as you can muster. Yunho catches your glare and looks to Mingi.

"Careful...she will have you fear her!"

"I do not understand you, Mingi," you say. "I have tried my best to be on good terms with everyone, and you are the only one that has not reciprocated." 

"Oooh." Wooyoung smirks. "Mingi must have taken a liking to her. Are you afraid, Mingi?" 

Your eyes widen as Mingi grabs Wooyoung by his shirt collar, threats spewing from his lips.

You would be more concerned, but the smaller man just continues to giggle, not frightened my Mingi's actions. The others seem unfazed, and Yunho stands up and takes your hand. You follow close after, letting him lead you to the main deck.

"I take it this is a common occurrence?" you ask.

"Wooyoung loves to be a bother." He rolls his eyes and then meets your gaze, smiling at you. "And I hope you are not upset by Mingi. I do not believe there is a sacrifice...of a life, at least." Yunho scratches his head, a timid look displayed on his face. 

"I am not upset. I know he is not serious." You sigh. 

"That does not mean it was right. Please excuse him...I think that he is afraid of change and does not know how to act. We have never—" Yunho clears his throat. "Had a woman aboard." Your eyes widen at his statement.

"That is what this is about?"

"Well...perhaps he fears liking you. Being attached to someone new, maybe? I know him quite well, but I cannot speak for him."

"Ah, yes. I heard today that the two of you are close."

"How so?" Yunho asks, his curiosity causing him to lean forward.

"Wooyoung," you reply shyly. "He brought it up when we were talking about a past journey of yours."

"Did he mention anything more of me?" he asks.

"Nothing bad, if that is what worries you." You giggle. "But...I did happen to read a bit about your brother." Yunho swallows thickly. "He seemed lovely, Yunho. Just like you." You cup his cheek, brushing your thumb softly across his skin. He finds comfort in your gesture and leans into your touch. His hand eventually encompasses your own, bringing it down to where he can hold it between you.

"You are very kind, Y/N. Thank you."

"Of course, Yunho. I hope that you can find a friend in me." 

"Attention!" You hear Seonghwa's boots stomp their way towards you. You and Yunho immediately straighten up, awaiting his orders. "The Captain beckons us to his quarters."

"Aye," Yunho replies.

"Aye."

Seonghwa continues on, stomping down to where he will soon find San, Wooyoung, and Mingi.

>>chapter 7

[sweethoneyrose83]

Alice Madness Returns x Smiling Critters

Madness AU

August 8th, 2005

Experimentation and Manipulation in Playcare Asylum Part 2 

Side A - Reality 

 He nods slowly and says, “Yes, the amalgamation is a creature that should not exist. And with your brother’s soul being added to the mixture, it would only make it stronger and more dangerous.” He takes a step closer to her and says, “I can see that you have a strong bond with your brother. He must mean a lot to you.” "We are twins, I thought he had disappeared forever...I thought I was alone...Oh god Zaggy...His been here the whole time!" CatNap nods and says, “Ah, twins. It's a bond not many can understand. To know that your twin has been here all this time, in this hell, must be truly painful. But now that you know he's here, will you try and find him? Can you face the reality of what he has become?" "I...I... We..." Trivia leans against a table her mind spinning then sees her name is Zaggy's file "What...?" She sees that her name is mentioned in Zagzagel's file, and CatNap laughs softly and says, “Ah, yes. Your brother has mentioned you quite a few times during his sessions. It seems that he has been feeling guilty about leaving you. He feels that he should have been there to protect you, but he couldn’t keep you safe. This is something the therapists here have been using against him." He frowns and says, "Perhaps that’s why they decided to make him a part of the amalgamation…." Trivia keeps reading as her name comes up on a couple more pages. As she continues reading through Zagzagel’s file, she come across more pages mentioning her name. The first one is a report from one of his therapists talking about how he speaks about her a lot, and how he seems to be struggling with his desire to protect her. The next one is a transcript from one of his sessions, in which he mentions her and expresses concern for her safety. The last page talks about the experiment they conducted on him, wanting to add her name to the list of souls that were to be added to the amalgamation. Trivia looks in horror as she was going to be added to the amalgamation.  CatNap laughs softly and says, “Ah, so the staff here were even going to add your soul to the mix. What a cruel fate that would have been. To merge your soul with the chaotic souls of other patients, forever losing your sense of self….” Trivia looks away and glances at CatNap once more.  "Maybe insanity does run in my family..." CatNap laughs softly again and says, "Ah, it seems that you have finally come to terms with the truth. Yes, perhaps insanity does run in your family. But fear not, for I too am plagued by the cursed grip of insanity. In fact, I think it's safe to say that we are all insane here…" CatNap wraps his arms around her in an embrace, accepting her into the group of the “insane”. He smirks softly and says, “Welcome to the dark side, my dear. Now that you’ve acknowledged your insanity, you can feel free to embrace it and become one with the madness."  Trivia slowly shakes her head "I will accept the madness but will not stay here and become like the rest..." CatNap raises an eyebrow "Oh? You accept the madness, but you refuse to stay here and become fully mad like the rest of us? How interesting. Do you have plans to escape this place, or do you simply wish to keep your sanity intact while you're here?"

[lannisterdaddyissues]

Hello it is a day later and I am STILL thinking about EoT and getting distracted at work because wow. I thought you might appreciate more thoughts?

One of the things that made me consider EoT was seeing someone call it "secretly the best video game movie" and in the first 20 minutes I was like "Ah okay yes I understand what they meant"

NO I DID NOT because the creeping horror of the movie didn't really kick in until after that introductory sequence when I realize oh no this isn't an aesthetic thing or a cinematography thing, no. EoT is secretly the best video game movie because Bill Cage is basically "what if the character being speedran understood that he was in a speedrun." The sequence breaking, the mashing through 'cutscenes,' the literalization of deathwarping.

I am frankly desperate to ask the original author or McQuarrie if they are familiar with video games because this movie took a lot of rote, basic facts of games and turned them into this rising suspensive drama. As I was watching with @interropunct I kept going "OH WE ARE GONNA HAVE SUCH TRAUMA FROM THIS HUH" and "these two are Same Trauma buddies for life now" and "oh my god he's deathwarping."

Anyway yeah I feel like the real pitch of this movie is "Bill Cage is a Titanfall 2 character and experiences the existential terror of being part of a massive speedrun reroute and its amazing."

Literally the only bad thing I can say is the final 20 minutes were so poorly lit I stopped trying to track the action and was like "See if McQ was directing, I'd be able to see shit."

ALSO THAT MUSIC CUE TO THE CREDITS, WHOEVER THOUGHT OF THAT NEEDS A HIGH FIVE AND A HANDSHAKE. That music cue honestly acts as an epilogue through implication, letting me know what's next for Rita and Bill. Huge fan.

YES????? YES!!!!!!!! ARC YOU GET IT THIS MOVIE IS SO URHSGHASKLFJHRKGASDJFKLSAJGKJSFDK

it's so fucking... chilling.... like the first couple scenes where we see bill trying to cut in through the whole battle is the great redeemer speech? that's like a gamer's horror film right there: not being able to skip cutscenes. add to that the fact that there's only one save point AND the AI is self-aware and knows what you're going to do before you do it, AND it has the ability to take away all your lives? absolutely horrifying. i cannot imagine a gamer and going through what bill cage went through.

i found the letterbox'd page for eot recently and this one review on it was like. something out of r/TwoSentenceHorror if it was more like r/TwoParagraphHorror. just read this:

i mean. this fucked me up. what could take 2 hours in a game could take years in real life........... utterly chilling to think about!

re: titanfall i have never heard of that game before bUT YOU'RE RIGHT IT LOOKS EXACTLY LIKE EOT ON THE COVER LMAO

AND THE SOUNDTRACK!!!! THE SOUNDTRACK!!!! i get goosebumps every time the end credits roll i swear. there's never been a more perfect outro to a more perfect movie. doug liman i am in your goddamn walls.

excellent thoughts, 10/10, i LOVE to hear this kind of thing!!! i hadn't thought much about the underlying horror implications of eot being video game-esque before but honestly it is so fucked and i will be sending my therapy bill to tom & mcq for it <3

[akumanoken]

"Sakura? Sakura where are---" He wasn't expecting to see sakura in bed at all. The princess was normally antsy, unable to sleep. Sometimes he'd even find the princess outside in the little cottage garden, working soil to calm himself...

But instead the princess was in bed, reading. That's right, they stopped by a bookstore at the market and Sakura bought a few large tomes. "Ah... I'm sorry you were looking for me?"

He just... stared a moment before nodding. He wasn't sure he'd ever get used to that sight. "Y-yeah, um... I wanted to talk to ya... if you can find a stopping point. He watched in amusement as the princess looked around for a bookmark before whining, dog earing a page and closing it shut. "Um... so in a couple days we gotta go back to the manor..."

"...I know..." He curled up, crawling over to sit on the knight's lap. He didn't mind being there... it wasn't asif there was much of a difference between the manor and the cottage, but being able to live like this with Kyouya, to forget his responsibilities and live like a normal person, it meant more to him than anything. He could be a boy in love, keeping a small house and making it warm for the two of them. It felt like... eloping, which was something made him blush bright red when he thought about it.

"Well... I... I found this in the market, and I wanted to make sure I gave this to you before we headed back..... well, I lied I didn't find it... I... I had it made for you..."

He pulled it from his pocket, placing it in Sakura's hand. "I... don't know what the council will say about it. It's not like I think they'd want you to think of marriage the same way that asshole did... and I know I don't have anything going for me but---"

Sakura's eyes had been filling with tears, his head with soft fuzz the moment he saw the kanzashi. Even if they hadn't said anything, Sakura already had in mind what he wanted once they returned to the palace... for Kyouya to propose to him first was a joy he didn't expect at all. "KYOUYA YES!!!"

He near tackled the knight, lips crashing together, full of joy even with the taste of salt between them. Kyouya was shocked, but just wrapped and arm around the princess, cradling their head in his hand.

"...good," was the first thing he said when they parted. "Then it's settled..." For now, he just wanted to hold the other a bit longer.

[bigbooksbygeorge]

The Ultimate Guide to Teaching Your Kids to Read in Spanish

Do you remember the first time you read a book and felt like you were transported into a whole new world? Well, guess what? It's time to buckle up because you're about to give your kids the ticket to that magical journey. But this time it's en español.

Whether you're a native Spanish speaker or just someone who appreciates the beauty and culture that comes with the language, teaching your little one to read in Spanish can be a rewarding experience for both of you.

So, let's get to it, shall we? Today, we're going to delve into the fun, fabulous world of letters, syllables, and big books in Spanish. Yes, you heard it right. Big books in Spanish that your child will fall in love with, and that will make the learning process a piece of cake Or should I say, un pedazo de pastel?

Start with the Basics: The Spanish Alphabet

Let's go back to the good ol' ABCs, shall we? But wait, in Spanish, we have a couple of special guests like "ñ" and "ll." Learning the alphabet is like learning the building blocks of a castle, and who doesn't want to build a castle?

To make it super engaging, let's turn this into a hands-on project. Get some poster board and markers, and create a colorful alphabet chart with your kiddo. Hang it up in a special place, maybe even their room, so they can proudly see their work every day.

And hey, remember that songs are your best friend. Sing the Spanish alphabet tune when you're driving to school or while doing chores. Before you know it, you’ll have a tiny artist singing the Spanish ABCs while coloring. Now that's what I call killing two birds with one stone: or should I say, matar dos pájaros de un tiro!

Syllable Shenanigans: Breaking Down Words

Alright, you've mastered the letters, so what's next on this fun-filled journey? Syllables. Think of syllables as the glue that holds our beautiful Spanish words together. And the exciting part? Spanish is so neat and tidy; the words often break down into syllables in a very straightforward way with children’s books.

Start with some arts and crafts time. Cut out syllables from magazines or newspapers and make a syllable scrapbook. Let your child glue down syllables next to pictures that represent them. For instance, next to a picture of a dog, they could glue the syllables “pe” and “rro” to form "perro."

And don't underestimate the power of movement. Get your little one to jump or hop from one syllable to the next written on the floor. Imagine how fun it will be for them to hop from "pa" to "pa" and shout "papá". It's exercise and education rolled into one. Now, how cool is that?

Visual Aids: Pictures and Word Associations

Who can resist the charm of vivid, colorful pictures? Visual aids can be a game-changer when it comes to learning. They say a picture is worth a thousand words, but in our case, we'll start with just one or two in Spanish.

Let's take your child's favorite storybook and give it a Spanish twist. Use sticky notes to label the pictures with their Spanish names. So, every time you get to the page with a 'house,' you'll also see "casa" right next to it.

You could even make it into a weekend activity by going on a "photo walk." Take pictures of random things around the neighborhood, like a tree, car, or cat. Then, go home and make a cute little album, writing down the Spanish word next to each photo. As a bonus, this can be a treasured keepsake of your child's learning journey.

Ah, and what about your own home? Turn it into a mini-Spanish haven. Place labels on household items like "mesa" for table, "silla" for chair, and "puerta" for door. It becomes a 24/7 learning playground, plus your child will feel super proud as they go around the house reading these words.

The Power of Repetition: Story Time

Ah, the allure of storytelling. Imagine cuddling up with your little one and exploring magical worlds: all in Spanish. When we dive into stories, we don’t just read words; we live adventures. And guess what? The more often we relive these adventures, the more familiar they become.

Begin with a bedtime ritual. Choose a captivating children’s tale in Spanish and read it every night for a week. You'll notice something wonderful: after a few days, your little listener will start finishing sentences and predicting what comes next.

And what about some drama? Turn these story sessions into mini-plays. Assign characters to each other and act out the parts. Fancy yourself the Big Bad Wolf or the brave Little Red Riding Hood? Your living room will soon be the stage for epic tales from Spanish folklore.

Also, keep an eye out for those big books in Spanish with vibrant illustrations. The combination of pictures and repetitive phrases can create a mesmerizing effect. Your child won’t just be learning; they’ll be enthralled.

Be Interactive: Use Everyday Moments

Life is a classroom, especially for a curious child. The beauty of learning Spanish is that you can infuse it into the tiniest moments. Think of it as seasoning everyday life with a pinch of Spanish.

During breakfast, chat about what’s on the menu in Spanish. Pancakes? That's "panqueques". Milk? That's "leche". It won't be long before your child excitedly asks for "jugo de naranja" in the morning.

Stuck in traffic or waiting in line? Turn it into a spontaneous Spanish quiz! Ask your child to spot things outside and name them in Spanish. A tree is an "árbol", and a car is a "coche". Bonus points if they can use it in a sentence.

And how about a dance party? Yup, you heard that right. Put on some catchy Spanish songs and dance away. Not only will this help with vocabulary, but you'll also have some unforgettable fun-filled moments together.

Have Fun: Games and Activities

If there's a surefire way to make learning unforgettable, it's by wrapping it up in layers of fun. Spanish isn't just a language; it's a ticket to a universe of games and activities that your child will adore.

Ever heard of "Lotería"? It's the Mexican version of Bingo, and it's brimming with delightful imagery and Spanish words. Give it a try on a family game night. You’ll be yelling "Lotería" in no time.

For the tech-savvy kids, the digital realm offers a plethora of Spanish learning apps and games. Picture this: animated characters, vibrant landscapes, and challenging quests: all reading in Spanish.

And finally, how about a Spanish fiesta? Host a themed party with Spanish music, food, and games. Your child can invite their friends, and together they can have a blast while learning. Imagine them doing the conga line while chanting Spanish numbers. Uno, dos, tres, ¡fiesta!

To wrap it up, the journey of teaching Spanish can be as colorful, lively, and dynamic as the language itself. Remember, every game played, every story read, and every song sung brings your child a step closer to being a confident Spanish reader. Dive in, enjoy the ride, and let the fiesta of learning begin.

Conclusion

Remember, teaching your child to read in Spanish is not just about the words and letters. It’s about spending quality time together and embarking on a fun-filled journey into a new world. So dig out those big books in Spanish, put on your imaginative hats, and watch your child transform into a little lector (reader) who not only enjoys stories but also gains a valuable skill that will benefit them for life.

Read More:

Childrens Big Books

[castle-dominion]

I can't type as fast on my phone but I am going to finish this episode & this liveblog.

Edit: I am clipping stuff so I will try to get a little bit of a liveblog in

Nice music

Trail of bills lol

nice accent lol

WHAT CELL PHONE BILL?

Lol castle mind reading the books

alexis' hair <3

Martha got money babes!

How did esposito hear what they had said eariler? a million. ten times that. try 100.

Voice of experience lmao

VAPORIZED his heart they were betting on it XD clip? no.

Castle: not as great as you would think. Only as fast as all te other cars in rush hour

Oh no "servant"

Cars with heated seats <3 yeah girl keep it on the downlow. I like how mom didn't say nicole was on drugs until nicole gave her ok. My man helped the soup kitchen. Good on him

Why would he NOT share what was so important if he said he Needed TO share it?

not clipping "the butler did it" ppl holding out hands & the shake of the head. Good little things in the show.

He still sneaks money out <3

Looks like Just Some Guy Why did he need it & where did he get it?

Love esposito's outfit. Dislike Ryan's shirt tho.

TS: idk it was dark! KR: so's your future todd They look like they are trying to talk privately but they are not even whispering in front of their suspect

sweating like he'd been walking, WALKING not running the car is moving rn?

Jersey Brethren lol.

Winery Big-ass boat! fantasizing about the size of your rods Time out, WHO did I kill? "but did I want his car?"

Timeline straight thirty two credit cards!? Oh lmao one for every nfl team. JE: and that's just the tip of the iceberg. He also bought a racehorse, minority stake in a lingerie football team, and a Bentley which is currently at the bottom of the Hudson River because he drove it off of a boat he was renting. KB: Wow, sounds like that money really turned Hixton into a different person for a little while. RC: Yeah, money doesn't change who you are. It just magnifies your personality. JE: Well, it wasn't all bad. He also bought a house for the clerk that sold him the winning ticket, a mausoleum for his dead neighbor, JE, no longer saying "it wasn't all bad": and three acres on the moon. RC: Get outta town. He's right down the crater from me. KB: Why doesn't it surprise me that you have property on the moon? RC: You know what? Laugh it up. When the earth is a desiccated husk, you will be begging to come live with me in the Nectaris Basin.

KR: Hey. So, I searched the car. KB: Oh, yeah. Sorry, York is not our guy. (noone thought to call ryan?) KR: That's okay. Jersey impound lot's nice this time of year

Same shirt ryan is wearing as the dead pool episode

Esposito has that entire room covered in financials. I mean the guy was rich.

KB: Last time I busted him, he was trying to grill cheese a guy in a dry-cleaning press.

"misspoke" not "lie" Ah he got the gun just last night OH YES GREG & TY PAGE I LOVE THESE TWO "going hunting"

MR: *enters wearing a leopard print dress and fur coat, with both hands full of shopping bags* RC: Whoa! Looks like you made a serious dent in your surprise inheritance. Is it safe to say there is not an animal print left in any store in New York City? MR: Very funny. *looks down at herself* Probably true.

Ooh we get to see the convo abt lanie right?

This is why I want a ubi. People would still work, they like to work, but a ubi would mean people who can't work as much or who need breaks or need to take time off to take care of kids would be able to. You wouldn't need to try to get a job you hate that pays more bc you can work the job you like that pays less.

HEY I MADE IT I RELIVEBLOGGED THE FIRST HALF & GOT A COUPLE CLIPS. NOW I NEED TO GO TO WORK. I'LL GET MORE CLIPS LATER.

Yes, Esposito, a winery. The fiancee is not damaging him. As if Lanie hasn't changed you! This legit sounds like a fight between lovers or two people who are pinning for each other but dating other ppl, like Beckett & castle.

Je: Wpwplwpldjfhsj Lanie??? Kr: yes, we all know! Je: castle & Beckett know too? (clipped)

Aw, inner child. That's so true. Freedom to write, spend time with Alexis, live life at your own pace. That's what we all want. We want to be able work a job we enjoy without worrying about money, we want to be able to spend time with our kids, we want to be able to live life without worrying about how we can keep living in this cramped apartment or paying for college so at least one of us can get a high paying job working 80 hour weeks because that's definitely better than living in poverty why afford a nice big home if you are never there to live in it?

That property on the moon? I just bought that last month.

I can't hear the hip-hop music that the captions claimed.

Wow this sucks. I usually touch type so I can watch the show while typing (mostly, & only during non dialogue parts) but here I need to watch my phone as I type.

Yucky ryan coming gun first around the camera

Lol I love them

Just doing some hip-hop rap about their robberies in some grungy recording room, these are the glory days. (I'll clip the actual music video too later)

Three armed cops & a writer makes four. You're under arrest, get on the floor. (clipping)

Castle you're a wordsmith don't make them stop rapping! Wait I was wrong. "I'll buy the album" XD (meh won't clip)

Cat named oz?

This boy is a kid

You know that's valid. Hire the guys who robbed you to beat up your daughter's dealer & then they go make a rap album? I would watch that movie. Real meet the Millers vibes. Or that zombie apocalypse Vegas heist. they're just admitting to assaulting this individual

Poor Ryan, exiled to watching them upstairs while the other three go down. Ryan really is the new guy, they said they would stop after remaking the pilot. (has his gun out already) Plus, he's been there two years more than castle, they had their ten year anniversary at the end of s7. Timeline facts: for 14 months before joining homicide, ryan was undercover. Ike was "dead" for three years in season two & when Ike died that's when esposito transferred to homicide. Rysposito worked their first case together ten years before the s7 finale.

RC & me: looks like oz wasnt kidding when he said he'd burn them alive

Don't ask her this in front of her mom!

Oh Hun no, you are not the reason your father is dead.

Marvin osminkowski is a cool name, a gay loser name tho... Oz is a cool gay name tho.

Oz catches one whiff of bacon & he disappears into thin air. So valid bestie. & Thank you for the imagery. (kinda want to clip but nah)

Still tho, Esposito's hair is short & stubble is long.

Martha my beloved. Oh Beckett & Martha I love their relationship. Beckett quoting castle. Beckett low-key saying what she would do if she won the lottery.

Rick looks nice.

Let castle drive it's his car! (she's into muscle cars apaprently, we learn that later)

Or not. I love the framing over the city I hate the driving.

It's like me & my brothers, we always pass the keys to the passenger out of habit BC we are so used to driving with mom.

Ooh she looks good! She knew she was walking like that, probably for his benefit, then when she sees him checking her out he's mad? Nah.

Is it really that easy for a cop to get in? I thought he had a network protecting him. How did they choose the correct club anyway?

Ibitha? Is not Ibiza? love the lighting btw

Little birdy have a name? Yes. You gonna tell me? No. (meh won't clip)

That your boyfriend? For now. Shiny!! Reminds me of firefly...

See? kick em in the balls. Not the drink castle! This she didn't say it!

No she looks great!

You can't charge him for a crime you made him commit. Felony blowing crap up. (also holy crows & maggots, 20 years is a Long time!)

Medical condition XD (the way he got beat up)

True true, don't commit the crime if you were seen by the butler.

I like how they have convict photos of ppl up on the board but then they have this nice halfbody shot of the butler

Ooh look at Ryan's sweater he's so pretty! (took a pic)

Ah wearing an apron. Nice. Yeah eat the rich. He employed him, not owned him True, it is not really stealing lol. Wow that's,,, a lot of money. His tax on being an idiot XD.

His bad luck? Like the drugs or?

Aw that's so cute!

KB: No! RC: Yes!

Castle & Beckett humoring one another.

Aw captain plays his kids' bdays! His two older girls & his little boy! Je: I play my firsts. Sex & combat. Is being horny that important to you & is your first combat that important to you? That is wild to me. Kr: I play his firsts too. FIRST OF ALL WHAT THE FUCK SECOND THATS GAY BRO. Je: looks at him kr: what? That way we both win & it's not awkward. Esposito looks like he's just saying "why did you just out our relationship to everyone?" B'y that is so gay, playing his firsts. & you know them? (already clipped)

It is weird to me to choose to gamble on your first time in combat. So weird. & honestly sad. See maybe it's just bc I'm so anti military.

What is so important about the moon castle? You immediately go talking about the mausoleum for the neighbour but you first mention the moon?

I'm assuming that was just edited together for our benefit & was not actually real time?

For real? Yeah he was an old man dying of like six different things. (if that's the actual quote I will clip it)

Jason & whizzer falsettos.

This guy looks high rn.

Oh. Fun. That's going to be a lot of work. Maybe you could start a scholarship. Or maybe making money off the school would get you out of living with your son.

I didn't know Beckett played guitar IS THAT THE RAP SONG SHES TRYING TO COVER??? GET ON THE FLOOR (meh don't need to clip but I could)

By all means please come in.

He is doing so much for her he really loves her. <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

WAIT HOLD ON A SECOND CASTLE SAYS "IF WE GET THIS ONE GUY, BILL ROWE, HE'S SO RICH" & THEN IT CUTS OFF BUT BILL ROE IS A DIRECTOR OR DP OR WRITER OR SMTH

[absolutepokemontrash]

Date bled or demon bros react to mc likes to nap and cuddle throughout the day

I’ll do the brothers! :D

Lucifer

…MC get off of him. He’s in a meeting.

Aaaaaaaaand they’re napping. Wonderful.

At first, Lucifer is annoyed that he’s got another Belphie on his hands, especially during the time when Belphie’s locked in the attic. How dare MC remind him of the brother that he’s holding under house arrest >:c

But once the relationship grows, Lucifer submits to the snuggles. Luci quickly realizes that he’s very not used to cuddling.

As long as MC isn’t napping through their classes, they’re good. Nap whenever you want, MC, just make sure your homework is done.

MC should expect the cuddling to be one sided in public, but behind closed doors? Hoo boy, the man’s attached to MC like a koala to a tree.

MC may have also accidentally fixed his sleep schedule… it’s just… why does he feel sleepy when he sees them nap? *yawn*

He’s just going to rest his eyes for a second, the paperwork can wait.

Mammon

G-gah! Stupid human! What do they think they’re doin’ cuddling up to him like that!? They do know he’s a demon right?

For the first little while, Mammon tsuderes it up, but he gets so easily flustered whenever MC leans on him that it renders everything he says pretty much meaningless.

The first time MC ever fell asleep on him it was absolutely magical. He slowly patted their head and refused to move until the next day. Sure, his back hurt and he didn’t get any sleep, but MC was just so cute dammit!

Deeper into the relationship, Mammon is the happiest demon alive because he doesn’t need to ask for snuggles! He just plops himself down next to MC and his human just cuddles up next to him!

His absolute favourite thing is when MC falls asleep on his lap. They did it in public once and Mammon took this opportunity to flex. Yeah, he has a cute human that likes to cuddle him, do you?!

Mammon’s only wish is that MC would be more awake when he’s explaining his totally legit business ideas, they always seem to fall asleep once he gets goin’

Leviathan

SISJDJSJSJDJDJSJJAJAKALSKA- PHYSICAL CONTACT?!?!?! WITH HIM?! it’s more likely than you’d think.

First part of the relationship when Levi had just made a pact with MC, he was kind of confused. He had tried to murk this normie just a couple of days ago and now they’re cuddling up next to him? What’s that abou-

Levi.exe has stopped working.

Yeah, Levi blue screening happens a LOT. It takes literal months for MC and Levi to snuggle properly on a regular basis.

As totally Kawaii MC is when they nap on him, they just need to see how this fight scene is animated! MC! MC! Look! Homura and Mami are- WAKE UP AND LOOK AT THIS!

Cuddling in public causes Levi to die a flustered death. Fs in the chat everyone, had a good life, he did.

Though, it makes him feel so much more comfortable whenever MC just holds his hand out in public and doesn’t make a big deal about it. It makes him feel safe ^.^

Satan

At first, Satan was taking notes on how this human got so comfortable so quickly that they just started cuddling people and napping everywhere. Hm, humans appear to be quite adaptable… interesting.

They also seem to lack any sense of danger. Well, at least this one does.

Later down the line though, when MC first crawled into Satan’s lap to nap, it rivalled the first time a cat chose him. This was wild.

Snuggles… while reading stories… yes please…

Okay, that part sounded better than it ended up being. MC fell asleep while cuddling and ended up right on Satan’s arm, then in their sleep, MC basically locked Satan’s entire right side into a vice grip and couldn’t be pried off. Basically, Satan had to reread the same page of his book over and over and over again because he didn’t want to wake up MC.

Well, call it a learning experience, and Satan loves to learn, so next time, he was prepared for MC’s death cuddles.

Apparently he wasn’t prepared enough because the exact same thing happened again… multiple times more.

MC is literally a walking relaxant, Satan is significantly less filled with burning rage when they’re around. Notice I said less filled, he will still cut a bitch.

Asmodeus

Oh~ how bold! MC just plopped themselves down next to him and cuddled up close to him!

At first, Asmo was amused by all the cuddling MC was doing and made quite a few less than wholesome jokes about it. The Avatar of Lust has a dirty mind! Shocker!

But hark! (The herald angels siiiiing-) Asmo actually… likes platonic snuggles?!?! What is this sorcery?!

If MC and Asmo don’t enter a romantic relationship, my man still needs his cuddle quota met, ASAP.

If they do end up dating, hoo boy, MC and Asmo sure do a lot of snuggling, and “snuggling”.

But overall, Asmo loves being held and cuddled, and sleep is good for one’s skin!

Beelzebub

*sniffle* Beeeeeeeeeelllllllllpppppphhhhhiiiiiiiiieeeeeee-

Congratulations MC, they have made Beel more sad about his twin being gone just by existing :D

Once the custard incident happens and MC and Beel grow closer, oh man, oh man oh man, is he in desperate need of cuddles.

If MC ever falls asleep anywhere and needs to get from point A to point B, fret not, Beel is prepared. He will gently pick them up and they will awaken at point B. How nice!

Once Belphie gets his ass out of the attic, MC has competition.

Not really, Beel has enough love to go around. Both his sleepy beans can get carried around and cuddled with. Beel is big and strong for a reason.

Since MC has a vice grip while they cuddle, Beel kind of walks around with them clinging to his arm like a sloth to a tree. Belphie also picks up on this behaviour and starts doing it too.

Someone (*cough* Levi and Mammon *cough*) took a picture and posted it on Devilgram and now it’s kind of a meme template.

Belphegor

Gasp! Whomst- whomst is this human who comes before him and cuddles up close to him? This must be his soulmate! His other half! His destined partner!

…his destined partner was drooling all over his cardigan.

Ah well, two can play that game motherfucker. *SNORE*

Anyway, Belphie and MC? I would say power couple but in reality, the two just do a lot of snuggling and sleeping, it’s like they’re attached at the hip.

The two are always touching in some way, Belphie resting his head on MC’s shoulder, MC attaching themselves to Belphie’s torso like a koala, the two of them trading spit with each other… you get the idea.

It gets weird when the two start legitimately visiting each other in dreams, it gets so frequent it basically becomes a date night thing to just sleep and do weird shit in dreamland.

“Hey MC do you wanna hang out?” “Sorry, can’t, it’s date night. *SNORE*” “Yeah, shoo. *S N O R E*”

On their most recent date, MC and Belphie fought a dragon and then ate a giant cake.

[sluttywonwoo]

A hot relaxing bath with wonwoo would be so therapeutic. Just cuddling and chatting maybe some cock warming. Candles and rose petals. Maybe a glass of wine to share. Omg him reading to you. Pure bliss.

pls this is all i want rn

he’d tell you he has a surprise for you and disappear into the bathroom, only reappearing some twenty minutes later asking you to follow him. while he was gone he’d drawn you a bath, set out towels and pajamas, lit a bunch of candles you didn’t even know where he got them from, and sprinkled some rose petals into the water along with some bubble bath.

“won, it’s not even valentine’s day yet,” you whisper.

he just kisses your cheek and says “i know, but i want you to feel loved every day of the year. besides, you know i can’t help spoiling you.”

you do know that. wonwoo truly can’t help himself when it comes to you. every time he looks at you he thinks his heart might burst. he wanted to give you the world. and what was wrong with wanting to spoil the love of your life anyway?

“can i cockwarm you?” you ask shyly, burying your face in his chest.

you hear him chuckle, but don’t look up to see the smirk. “this is supposed to be relaxing, baby. i’m supposed to be treating you.”

“cockwarming you is relaxing,” you protest.

“you won’t get all worked up like you usually do?”

you shake your head earnestly, even though you’re not very confident in your ability to keep your promise. acts of service was your love language and fuck if it didn’t turn you on when wonwoo did something sweet for you. truthfully, wonwoo’s already feeling a little excited himself. his dick had twitched in his sweatpants the instant you mentioned cockwarming him and he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist. in fact, he doesn’t even care if you ‘get all worked up like you usually do’. he’s happy to take care of you and all of your needs, he just doesn’t want you to forget to relax in all this. that was the whole point in the first place.

but he helps you undress and then undresses himself before joining you in the tub, stroking his cock a couple of times to get hard enough for you to sit on.

“is this for me too?” you ask suddenly, pulling him from the task at hand. you’re pointing to a glass of wine set on the edge of the tub.

“i made it for you in case you wanted it,” your boyfriend grunts, cock still in hand.

“you really thought of everything.”

“i tried.”

“i know. it’s so sexy.”

he laughs and beckons you closer. you balance the wineglass in your hand and shuffle over to him, careful not to spill any of your drink in the tub or splash the bath water out onto the floor in the process.

“do you need-“

“no, i’m wet enough.”

wonwoo shakes his head and rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning. he eases you onto his lap in a position that’s comfortable for you both and you sigh out in relief, resting your head against his shoulder.

“good?” he asks.

“so good.”

“want me to read to you, baby? i downloaded some books on my kindle app just in case.”

“i’d love that.”

he picks one he thinks you’ll like and starts at the beginning, setting the tone by talking low enough for only you to hear. sometimes his reading puts you to sleep, but tonight it has the opposite effect. he’s just a few pages into the book when he feels you stir on his lap, circling your hips subtly, trying to get more friction.

“we’re supposed to be relaxing,” he reminds you fondly.

“can’t help it,” you whine, not looking up from his shoulder. “your voice is so hot. you make me so wet.”

“fuck,” wonwoo curses, hips bucking into yours instinctively.

“ah yes, just like that.”

“y/n…” he warns.

“making me cum will help me relax,” you blurt out finally.

“fine,” he relents. “but i’m going to keep reading, and if i make it to the end of the chapter before you cum i’ll let you pick how you get fucked the second time.”

[mllekurtz]

(inspired by @saturdaysky, who knows what they did, and lovingly betaed by @dawl-and-dapple)

Beau is the first person to notice.

It’s not rare to see Professor Widogast haunting the halls of the Cobalt Soul Archive in Rexxentrum nowadays, either guiding a small contingent of students or alone. The archivists and librarians are as used to his presence as they are to Beau’s, who visits much more infrequently.

She’s walking past the main reading hall when she sees a familiar flash of silver hair, neatly tied back and falling over a very fine, very boring black coat. (“You look very distinguished,” Yasha had commented earnestly, just as Beau was saying, “You look old.” They were both right; Beau had just omitted that ‘old, distinguished professor’ was a very good look on Caleb.)

Sitting alone at a large wooden table, Caleb is… either reading or trying to dive into the large tome in front of him, judging from the way he’s hunched over it. She doesn’t have any choice but to walk over.

“You’ll hurt yourself,” she says, in lieu of a greeting.

Still with his nose almost on the page, Caleb’s reply is calm and unbothered. “Hello, Beauregard.”

She had hoped to catch him by surprise, but either she hasn’t been very sneaky or he’s grown eyes behind his head. Well, those are not the eyes he has to worry about. “How long has this been going on?”

Eventually, Caleb straightens — making a piss poor job of hiding how painful the process is to his back and probably everything else as well — and blinks owlishly as he focuses on her. “I have no idea what you mean.”

With a sigh, she crosses her arms. “You need glasses, man,” she says, a moment before three different people shush her, since they are, after all, in a library.

*

It was a simple truth. Caleb was smart enough to recognise it and practical enough to do something about it. The whole affair was relatively harmless, if he ignored Beau’s teasing that now he really looked old (and he did ignore it), and resulted in the pair of round lenses held together by a thin metal frame currently sitting on his nose.

It only took him a couple of days to get used to his new glasses, and now he even feels oddly naked without them.

Most of the time, he forgets he’s wearing them.

Case in point, he’s not thinking about them at all the next time the Teleportation circle etched in the laboratory’s floor flashes up. A bit later than arranged, but still in time for dinner, a small, cloaked figure materialises with a tired sigh, hovering over the now opaque runes and making Caleb’s house feel a little more like a home.

Closing the book he was reading (now without much effort) as he waited, Caleb looks up. “Everything alright, schatz?”

Patting dust off himself, Essek floats out of the circle without looking up. Both the state of his clothes and his tired expression speak of a long day, maybe even a long week, but he looks otherwise safe and unharmed.

“Just an excess of caution on my part, but I wanted to make sure that I wasn’t— oh.”

Alarmed by Essek’s suddenly stricken expression, Caleb stands up. Before he can ask what’s wrong, though, the drow has drifted all the way up to him. The next thing Caleb knows is a pair of cold, soft hands on his cheeks, gently tilting his head.

Essek has an open invitation to touch him when and however he likes without asking for permission each time, but he rarely invokes this right. Perhaps because he’s rarely at a loss for words.

By now, Caleb has remembered the small change in his appearance. “Ah, yes. I’m afraid they were a necessity. Age is not kind to one’s eyesight, apparently.”

“Mmm.” Oblivious to his blabbering, Essek seems unable to tear his eyes away from him. As unexpected as it is, this intensity is more than a little flattering. His hands slide from Caleb’s face to his chest, applying a light but unmistakable pressure. When he speaks, his voice is a little huskier than usual. “Would you sit down again, please?”

This is, despite its formulation, not a question. As he complies, Caleb feels gravity adjust around him, and instead of hitting the surface of the couch, he alights on it with the gentleness of a feather.

A moment later, there’s a very determined-looking drow straddling his lap, his slight frame made even lighter by his manipulation of gravity.

Even as his hands find their place on Essek’s hips, Caleb starts to say, “Dinner is—”

Essek stops taking off his own cloak to press a finger on his lips. “Dinner can wait.” His fingers move, stroking his cheek and not quite touching the lower rim of the glasses, and end up tangled in the hair at the back of his head. “Can you keep them on?”

He looks so serious that Caleb makes a mental note to tease him about this. Later. “Let’s find out.”

[albakore]

Domesticity

Synopsis: small moments with the boys that make their heart flutter.

Characters: Kaeya, Diluc, Zhongli (gn!reader)

Warnings: none!

Kaeya

You didn’t hear the door open which was what usually alerted you to your lover’s arrival home. It was evening and even though you two hadn’t gotten the chance to grab dinner yet like you normally did, you couldn’t wait to find something to satiate your craving — more specifically, your craving for something sweet. So here you stood at your kitchen counter, not even bothering to take the extra few steps to sit down at the table, enjoying the cake you had picked up from the local baker in town.

“Oh, what’s this? Dessert before dinner?” Kaeya’s smooth voice right beside your ear made you jump, arms encircling your midriff. Even though you couldn’t see his expression at the moment you knew he had that mischievous glint in his eye that hadn’t faded from when he realized he could take advantage of you not noticing his entry.

“I’ve got an extra slice in there for you too.” You noted aloud before taking another bite of your own cake. You turned your head to observe Kaeya for a moment, just appreciating his beauty. You chewed slowly as your eyes drifted over the features of his face and hair before coming to complete the eye contact he had been holding one-sidedly with you for a few moments now.

“Aw, you bought me some cake too? Thank you angel.” He hummed before adding on, “I’d like to save mine for after dinner. I’d appreciate it if I could steal a bite from yours now though if you don’t mind.” He added on cheekily at the end. You rolled your eyes but nonetheless mumbled a small fine to indicate your approval, lips quirking up in an involuntary smile at your lovers antics. His fingers twitched as he had planned on grabbing the fork to do it himself but quickly stilled his arm when he observed your actions and concluded that you already had something else in mind. He watched as you cut off a piece before scooping it up on your fork, turning in his embrace with a hand under the fork to catch any stray crumbs. He opened his mouth compliantly and took the fork into his mouth without taking his eyes off you. You withdrew your fork from his mouth and turned back around to get another bite for yourself. He couldn’t help the feeling that arose in his chest of total adoration at the action. It wasn’t necessarily like you were taking care of him or anything of that nature, but the thoughtfulness still has butterflies erupting in his stomach. He smiled a soft, genuine smile often reserved only for you as he rested his head on your shoulder. “Thank you, princess.” He murmured softly into your skin, pressing a gentle kiss there.

Diluc

Though he rarely ever admits it out loud, he loves seeing you in his clothes. It feels like he’s providing for you in yet another way, and it’s a way he can provide from afar which is even better. Something about knowing it’s his coat that’s keeping you warm or his shirt that you decided you’d be most comfortable in. He often feels guilty about not being around as much as he should, but when he steps into you two’s shared bedroom and sees you lounging on your side of the bed atop the covers with his shirt hanging from your frame loosely and a book in hand, he can’t help but feel all the moments spent longing to be by your side are worth it.

“Good evening, darling. What are you reading?” He normally wasn’t the one to break the silence first, he understood as well as anyone that there’s not much that’s more annoying than having your peace and quiet disturbed unwillingly. But when your eyes flutter up to meet his with a soft expression on your face, he can’t help but feel like you don’t mind his intrusion.

“This old book I found on one of the shelves out there,” you motion toward the door behind him, “Adelinde said it was one of your childhood favorites so I thought I’d give it a read. Maybe it’ll provide me more insight on the mind of Diluc Ragnvindr.” His lips curl upward at your playful statement as he shrugs his coat off and places it over the desk chair that’s in his room.

“The mind of Diluc Ragnvindr?” He repeats with mirth laced in his tone.

“Precisely!” You chime, your smile growing wider as you watch Diluc slip off his shoes and loosen his tie.

“Well, I’ll offer you some insight into my mind. I think you’ll find it quite a boring place.” He glances back at you to see your focus is still trained on him. “I’d much rather have you in my arms right now than in my mind.” He doesn’t miss your little giggle as you carefully mark your page in the book and place it next to you before slipping off the bed. He takes in your appearance once again as you make your way toward him, realizing that not only are you wearing his shirt but you also seem to have found a pair of his socks to claim as well. And when you raise your arm to hug him, he notes that you don’t seem to be wearing pants either. His arms find their way around your waist and his hands lock together as the rest on your lower back. “Much better.” He muses, eyes looking at you with the softest expression this man could ever muster.

“Tell me, what is the mind of Diluc Ragnvindr thinking right now?” You ask, reaching up to brush a strand of his hair out of his face.

It’s thinking that I’m the luckiest man in the world right now, he thinks. It’s telling me that I’ve found the one I want to spend the rest of my life with. But instead, he settles for a simple and common phrase: “it’s thinking that I love you.” He replies softly after a few heartbeats.

Yes all the moments of longing to be by your side are worth it indeed, he can only hope you feel the same.

Zhongli

“Here you go.” You crooned, placing down a fresh cup of tea in front of him. His focus was currently on some paperwork that you had watched Hu Tao hand to him earlier so you can infer that he’s probably working on funeral parlor related documents.

“Thank you darling, would you mind bringing me th-“

“The cream?” You finished for him. “I already put some in there.”

“Ah, thank you. How about-“

“Sugar?” You conclude for him yet again, watching him fondly as he scribbles something down on his paper. “Already put that in also. Three cubes, just like you always add.” You watch as his focus finally breaks from his work and instead his gaze comes to rest on you. His hand absentmindedly reaches out for the spoon in his cup and stirs it a bit.

“How long did you steep it for?” He inquires curiously. Not that it really mattered to him, he was just intrigued by how much attention you seemed to pay to his routine, he was flattered even by your thoughtfulness.

“Five minutes. This particular kind of tea usually runs strong but I remember you mentioning that when you did less than that it was a little weak.” You seemed proud of yourself for the level of care you took in preparing his tea. You took one more step closer to him before brushing his bangs out of the way and planting a gentle kiss on his temple. “You’ve been working hard lately, it was the least I could do.”

Zhongli has spent centuries by himself, merely observing couples who act the way you two are now — but without the title of “geo archon” to accompany his name any longer, he sees no reason to deprive himself of the pleasure that is a romantic relationship any longer. His amber eyes stay trained on you a moment longer before he brings the cup to his lips, blowing some steam off the top and taking a sip. You watch the way a smile forms on his lips as he tastes the tea you so carefully prepared for him. “Thank you, (y/n). This is very kind of you.” His compliment brings a soft blush to your cheeks as you shrug it off.

“Don’t mention it.” You glance bashfully down at your hands. “Well, I’ll leave you to it.” Just as you step away his gloved hand catches yours and brings your knuckle to his lips. It’s a fleeting moment before his eyes are once again focused on the paper in front of him. He takes another sip of his tea and he swears it tastes better than when he makes it himself. Perhaps, as corny as it may sound, because this tea was made with one extra ingredient: love.

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Day 4- Erebor’s Monster

Halfway to the end! If you would like for this to be my next fic, please be sure to shower it with lots of love (reblogs/likes/comments).🥰💖 All plot bunnies will be linked back to this masterpost.

Summary: Bilbo is investigating ‘Erebor’s Monster’ in secret trying to discovery the nature of all the mysterious disappearances the town has suffered. However, Bilbo soon finds himself on a discovery that will shake his core belief system completely if he is to help Mayor Thorin Oakenshield recover that which was lost and defeat an ancient evil for good.

Erebor’s Monster. The terrifying sea serpent-like cryptid was said to roam the depths of Lake Erebor. Known as ‘Smaug’ by many of the locals, it’s assumed that during the channel swell almost forty years ago, he slithered from the depths of the ocean to lay claim to Erebor. Why? No one really knows. However, sightings of red scales or the nearly alien moans at night lead credence to the claims of something strange in the small mountainside town. Whether elaborate hoax or the verge of scientific discovery, many now flock to Erebor nestled between the fishing capital of the region, Dale, and the mighty green woods of Elfhaven if only to see that which seems too far-fetched to be believed.

“Well? What do you think?”

Bilbo lowered the article to raise an eyebrow at the older man across from him.

“I’m not sure I know what to think. You do know I’m a journalist, not a paranormal investigator, right?”

“Ah!” Gandalf declared, his eyes twinkling brightly. “That’s precisely why I came to you, Bilbo Baggins. Keep reading.”

  Bilbo resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he continued to scan the page before him.

  “Smaug…photos…more bullshit…oh yes, here we go. ‘Accredited to Smaug, or not, several disappearances have been linked to the monster hunting tours of Erebor. When asked to comment, Mayor Thorin Oakenshield claimed no responsibility as all personal belongings including cars had vacated the premises. He further went on to explain how the cliffs surrounding Erebor can make for dangerous terrain, but local authorities have been unable to conclude if roadside accidents were to blame…’

Okay Gandalf, what are you up to? You can’t actually expect me to fly halfway across the world because a couple of drunk idiots drove their cars off a cliff.”

“Thirty-seven.”

“Come again?”

“It’s not a couple. There have been thirty-seven missing person reports filed in the past eight years. All of them stating Erebor was the last place they had been seen.”

Bilbo blinked as he digested this information, his eyes returning to the article with just a touch of renewed interest.

“And the other point of interest, Thorin Oakenshield is relatively new to the job. He took over for his father who also mysteriously went missing.”

“Let me guess…Mr. Oakenshield has been in this position for exactly eight years?” Bilbo drawled trying to act bored.

Gandalf held out his hands with a smug smile before leaning back in his chair. Bilbo tapped his fingers on the tabletop as he considered the story. In truth this sounded like a police matter, and therefore not something he needed to get involved with. On the other hand, Bilbo knew that’s exactly why Gandalf did bring it to him. This certainly wasn’t the first time Bilbo had gotten involved in a potentially dangerous situation all for a story. In fact, it was when he exposed Saruman as conspiring to overthrow the other White Council members that landed himself on Gandalf’s radar in the first place. The government official had watched Bilbo’s career with interest after that, even going as far as to fund his trips on the stories that took him outside of Hobbiton (which was most of them). However, this was the first time his friend had ever come to him directly with a case.

“I’ve heard the weather is marvelous this time of year.” He added.

Bilbo snorted. “In April? I imagine it’s dreary, rainy, and chilly in the evenings.”

“You’re going to love it!”

“Gandalf, I can’t just go running off into the blue chasing after monsters.”

“I thought that’s exactly what you do, my dear fellow.”

Bilbo couldn’t help smirking at this. “Well, this will be my first literal monster at least.”

Gandalf leaned forward as far as he could, placing a large palm on Bilbo’s shoulder.

“Bilbo, my boy, I would never have come to you if it wasn’t of the utmost importance. I truly believe there is more going on here than meets the eye, and if you happen to uncover a giant sea serpent in the process, then that just proves there are still many strange curiosities left in our vast world. However, it’s the monsters out of the water that I fear. This is a case that will require a great deal of courage, a quick wit, and no small degree of charm. Alas, I cannot leave Imladris at this time.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes as Gandalf gave his shoulder a small squeeze before releasing it. Bilbo found himself missing the warmth of the gesture almost immediately. His parents had died many years ago while he was still in uni, leaving him with their sizable cottage all on his own. A cottage he barely stayed in, come to think of it, as he was constantly bouncing from place to place. Gandalf has been the closest thing he’s had to family in a long time, not counting his actual extended relatives who were more interested in the wealth of the Baggins’ name than his wellbeing. Bilbo found himself gazing up at Gandalf imploringly.

“Gandalf, if it’s as bad as you’re making it out to be, can you promise I will come back?”

“No.” The older man sighed with a shake of his head. “And if you do, you will not be the same.”

That should have been the deal breaker. The moment when Bilbo told Gandalf that he had the wrong guy and he was better off finding a PI for this kind of investigation. After all, Bilbo didn’t need the story. He would find other pieces, closer to home, that didn’t have the possibility of sea serpents swallowing him whole.

“So when do I leave?”

***

Bilbo made his way down the walkway, rubbing his face, hoping that the airsickness would pass soon. Bilbo was not one for flying or sailing come to think of it…buses were debatable. Really, Bilbo was the kind of person who liked to keep his feet square on the ground, and after the six hour flight he was rather dreading getting in a car for the next three.

Wheeling his carry-on behind him, he made his way out of the airport towards the loading zone. Gandalf had promised he had transportation already worked out for Bilbo, and sure enough as he drew closer, he saw a tall dark haired man holding up a sign that read ‘Baggins’. Bilbo approached the other who almost seemed to quirk an eyebrow as he sized him up.

“Mr. Baggins, I presume?”

“Call me Bilbo.” He forced a smile, holding a hand for the other to shake. “And you?”

“Bard. I’m told you want to go to Erebor for some ungodly reason.” 

Bilbo laughed. “Well, I run a myth-busting blog and thought I ought to give ‘Smaug’ a shot.”

Bard’s smile was as stiff as his greeting. “Let’s hope you don’t come to regret that decision.”

Bilbo waited until they were in the car and the trees of Elfhaven doing their best to remind him of his motion sickness before he chose to address Bard’s unusual comments.

“The mayor and I don’t exactly see eye to eye.” He explained.

“Ah, yes I heard he was…obstinate.” Bilbo agreed delicately.

Bard’s lips thinned and his grip on the wheel tightened. 

“If it were only that, Mr. Baggins.” 

And that was all the man would say on the subject. Bilbo managed to wring out of him that he didn’t actually live in Erebor, but in Dale with his family. However, his job pulled him to Erebor and Elfhaven more often than not. Bilbo got the impression he wasn’t talking about being a driver, especially if he frequently met with the mayor, but he remained tight lipped on that account. Conversation dwindled after that, and Bilbo found himself drifting asleep with his head against the window when the trees thinned and Bilbo was able to glimpse sunlight once more. 

“You’ll want to see this view.” Bard smirked over at him.

They crested the hill, and Bilbo’s breath caught in his throat. A single solidary peak seemed to rise out of the depths of the large glittering lake. In fact, it seemed to be less lake and more sea to Bilbo’s eyes. Off in the distance to the south, Bilbo could make out the towers of Dale. Part of the town being built directly on the water which was insane to Bilbo. Pulling his eyes away from their suicidal lifestyle, he let his eyes scan to the north under the mountain where he knew Erebor to be. It certainly wasn’t as impressive, but it seemed to have its charm.

Bard expertly navigated the twists and turns of the road as only a native could. Bilbo made a mental note of just how dangerous it was, and even though there were guardrails everywhere, it seemed very plausible to take a turn just a little too fast and drive straight into the lake. It would be rather anticlimactic if he was able to solve Gandalf’s little problem that easily. Thirty more minutes, and they were on the main street headed for the Green Dragon where Bilbo would stay for the week.

Bilbo was rather pleased to see everyone walking along the sidewalks keeping the roads fairly clear if it wasn’t for the suspicious narrowed glares he seemed to attract.

“Not too fond of tourists if you can tell.” Bard informed grimly.

“This is absurd. They have a tourist attraction for Yavanna’s sake!”

“They don’t see it that way.” Bard smirked. “They seem to think they have a rather large deterrent, and you are the idiot that can’t keep his nose to himself.”

Bilbo’s said nose twitched under the implication. However, before he could refute Bard’s claim, they had pulled into the parking lot of his hotel. 

“Well…I suppose this is it. Thank you, for the ride and…conversation.”

Bilbo opened the door, and Bard latched onto his arm before he could get out. Bilbo’s heart began to pick up speed at the desperate and dark look on the other’s face.

“Take care, Mr. Baggins. And if I can offer you some advice? Don’t. Trust. Anyone.”

An icy chill went straight down Bilbo’s spine and more than anything, he wanted to get out and away from this man.

“I-I’ll do that. Thank you again, Bard.”

The man gave a quick, jerky nod before releasing him. He gave Bilbo one last long look as he pulled away. Bilbo watched as most of the Ereborians milling on the street stopped to watch Bard’s retreat before turning to stare at him. Bilbo didn’t waste any more time as he all but sprinted inside the hotel’s cheerfully painted green door.

[jujumin-translates]

Sakuya Sakuma | [SSR] Alighted Happiness | Image of a Future Family - Part 3

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Sakuya: Thanks for gathering here to hear my own personal request today.

Citron: What is going on?

Tsuzuru: What’s your request?

Sakuya: Actually… I want you all to perform with me as entertainment for my co-worker’s wedding reception.

Itaru: Perform as entertainment?

Sakuya: After hearing Reiko-sensei’s life story… I realized I wasn’t a stranger to her feelings and loneliness.

Masumi: …

Sakuya: That’s why I want to do a performance doing what Reiko-sensei wanted to do, but couldn’t.

Sakuya: And if I can, I want to help her make those things happen in her new home.

Sakuya: Sorry, I can’t think of anything super specific.

Chikage: …

Sakuya: I know this is a selfish request. But I want to do an etude… With everyone in my Spring Troupe family.

Spring Troupe: …

Sakuya: U-Um…

Citron: …Of course, we will, Sakuya.

Tsuzuru: How could we ever turn that down?

Chikage: You act like it’s a big deal. We’ll grant your wish no matter what.

Itaru: It’s a request from our family member, of course, we will. Right, Masumi?

Masumi: …Well, obviously I have to cooperate.

Sakuya: Thank you so much…!

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Host: Next up is a co-worker of the bride, Sakuya Sakuma-san, with the entertainment. Please give him your attention!

*Applause*

Sakuya: My family is going to be joining me today. Reiko-sensei, everyone, please enjoy the show.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Itaru: Is the camera all ready to go?

Citron: It is perfect! A camera is a must-have for athletic events!

Chikage: Good lord, you’re taking up seats for the elderly.

Itaru: And I’m sure you’re just as happy seeing your grandson doing so well.

Citron: Ah, here’s he comes running!

Itaru: That’s my boy!

Tsuzuru: …Hup!

Chikage: Yes!

Tsuzuru: Haaah… Haaah… Yeah! First place!

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Chikage: Okay then, who’s going to read from page 35, line 4, all the way to the end?

Masumi: I will. “The next day, the attendant--.”

Itaru: Ooh, he said it all by himself.

Citron: He was such a spoiled child, but he’s growing up to be so dependable…

Masumi: “...The elephant calmly climbed to the top of the mountain.”

Citron: How wonderful! He’s a genius at reading aloud! He’ll be the future prime minister!

Itaru: My son… He’s become so splendid… Uuuehu.

Masumi: Sigh… Stop crying at my class visit. It’s embarrassing, Mom and Dad…

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Sakuya: Hey, Grandpa, if I’m a good boy, will Santa come?

Chikage: I’m sure he will. If you’re a good boy and go to be soon, that is.

Sakuya: Okay! Ehehe, I’m so excited… Goodnight.

Chikage: Goodnight.

Sakuya: Zzz… Zzz…

Itaru & Citron: …

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Sakuya: …And that’s all. Thank you all for watching.

Bridegroom: It’s just daily life things, but it made me laugh, and smile, and it warmed my heart, but… Eh?

Reiko: …Uueghu… Hic…

Bridegroom: R-Reiko!?

Sakuya: Congratulations on your marriage, Reiko-san.

Sakuya: When you first watch it, the play just seems like the everyday life of an ordinary family--.

Sakuya: But I think that a normal day spent with your family is the happiest thing of all.

Sakuya: So I did this play with the hope that the two of you will stay close to each other like that… For a long time to come.

Sakuya: I wish you many, many years of happiness!

*Applause*

Reiko: Thank you, Thank you so, so much…!

Bridegroom: Absolutely, let’s be a good couple… And an even better family. Thank you so much for the wonderful play.

Reiko: You have a wonderful family, Sakuya-kun.

Sakuya: …Yeah.

Sakuya: I’m really proud of my family!

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Official: The bride and groom will now be launching a stuffed animal with a parachute out of a cannon, so please clear the way, everyone!

Citron: A cannon!? That’s dangerous.

Itaru: It’s a parachute teddy bear. It’s a stuffed animal that gets tossed out instead of a bouquet toss.

Sakuya: …

Chikage: You’re pretty far in the corner, Sakuya. Don’t you want to move over there more?

Sakuya: I’m okay here.

*Wind blows*

Tsuzuru: Uwah, the wind…

Masumi: It’s coming this way.

Sakuya: Eh? Ah…!

*Teddy bear falls*

Citron: Oh! Nice hatch, Sakuya!

Masumi: Catch?

Sakuya: Umm, this…

Itaru: Sakuya really reels in the good luck.

Citron: Oh, and the bride is waving her hand to congratulate Sakuya!

Tsuzuru: I’m happy for you, Sakuya.

Sakuya: …Ehehe.

[phykios]

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

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

1)

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

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

Percy might hate college.

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

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

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

“How bad is it?”

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

“Ouch.”

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

Her mouth twists in sympathy. “Sucks.”

“Yep.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds good.”

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

Percy slams the computer shut. 

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” Percy chuckles, uneasy.

Several seconds pass. 

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

Spoiler alert: it doesn’t get much better.

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

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

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

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

“Uh… sure. I’d love to.” 

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

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

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

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

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

Percy nods. Amphibious? “Uh-huh.”

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

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

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

“Where were they sailing through?” Percy asks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He coughs, shrugging his shoulders. “Sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t forget--”

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

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

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

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

“I think you should consider majoring in history.”

Percy’s head snaps up. “History?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not?”

“Because… it's too easy?” 

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

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

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

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

By morning, he has a response. 

Sounds good! Looking forward to it.

***

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

“Hey mom.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

“An A!”

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

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

“Thanks, mom.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why can’t he stop smiling? “Thanks.”

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

“It does.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks mom. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” 

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

Maybe college won’t be so bad after all. 

2)

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Deal.”

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

He sighs. “You guys are idiots.”

“Frank!”

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

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

It’s… not what he expected.

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

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

And, well. Percy can handle the sea.

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

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

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

Thirty minutes later, he is well and truly wasted.

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

She snorts, grinning at him. “Thanks.”

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

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

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

“You did.”

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

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

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

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

“Gross.”

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

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

“Greek Fire bombs. Five.”

“You’re a psychopath.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” he hisses, glaring.

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

“The what?”

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

“That doesn’t help.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Some mistakes may have been made.

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

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

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

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

Nico gaped, staring. "What."

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

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

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

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

"It was your idea!"

"I don't have good ideas."

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

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

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

“Seriously?”

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

Freak. Percy would die for the kid.

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

“You’re so weird.”

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

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

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

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

“Shh!” Nico hisses. 

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

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

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

That mouth opens, soundlessly, jaw working on nothing.

“Speak.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nico’s eyes widen. 

Percy stares. “What.”

“I didn’t stop the ritual.”

His stomach goes cold.

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

Percy can’t speak, mouth dry.

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

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

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

3)

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

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

“Annabeth.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was the best compliment he had gotten.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods. “Very interesting.” 

Percy stares. Can this guy say anything else? 

“This is very well done, young man.”

Oh. “Thank you,” he says. 

“Who are you working with?” 

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

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

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

“I’m sorry?”

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

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

“Who was that?” Annabeth asks. 

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

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

Five hundred?! “Fuck me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His mouth goes dry. “Um…” 

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

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

Annabeth, behind him, coughs. 

“S-sure. No problem.” 

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

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

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

Percy relaxes. He’s got this.

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

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

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

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

And they certainly seem impressed with his talk so far. 

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

Well, most of them, anyway.

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

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

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

“And how big were these models?” 

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

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

Percy freezes. “Uh.”

Oh, shit.

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

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

In the corner of his eye, Annabeth facepalms.

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

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

Annabeth adds a second hand to her facepalm.

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

“At my… summer camp…” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A little.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Surprising, but definitely not unwelcome.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

4) 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Percy straightens his back. Peace?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

“The ones in the British Museum.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She smiles, waving her little fists.

Gods he loves this little monster.

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

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

The baby says nothing.

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

Junie blinks at him.

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

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

Percy sighs. Dammit.

Time for a new project, he guesses.

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He might be in over his head a little.

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

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

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

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

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He stops. 

He squints at one of his doodles. 

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

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

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

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

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

No response. 

Percy approaches the table. 

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

Percy picks up the book, squinting. 

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

He looks at his napkin drawing. Blurry and smudged.

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

Blurry and smudged.

Percy stares. 

It… can’t be that simple, can it?

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

And he closes his computer.

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

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

“Daw-fins, daddy,” she says, smiling.

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

***

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

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

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

“Update in the Parthenon marbles thing.”

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

He shows her his phone.

Her eyes go wide as saucers. “Damn.”

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

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

He starts. “What did you say?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Annabeth takes her without a second glance. 

Then she does take a second glance.

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

Annabeth gapes. 

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

Annabeth just stares. Junie babbles.

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

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

5)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Percy nearly drops the bottle. “No shit?”

“Big dude, long mustache, writes poetry?”

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

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

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

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

“No, why do you ask?”

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

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

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

“Can do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Peas,” Junie says. 

“Oh, you want peas instead?”

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

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

“Chip off the old block,” Annabeth says.

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

“I’m doing my best here, okay?”

***

Hardrada is… not what he expected.

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

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

“And what about Lover?”

“What about Lover?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He gets no response.

Percy looks up, confused. “Annabeth?”

“In the bathroom,” he hears, faintly. 

“Everything okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That gets his attention.

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

“Is that…?”

“Yep.”

“Oh.”

Her smile falls. “Are you mad?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Jackson,” she corrects.

“Huh?”

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

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

“Then let’s make it happen.”

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

+1

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

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

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

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

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

“Psst.” 

Jamie looks up. 

There’s a four year old staring at her. 

“Hi,” Jamie says. 

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

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

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

“Bello,” says Junie.

Jamie blinks. “Sorry?”

“Legistne carmen longum de bello Troiano.” 

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

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

Junie beams at her.

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

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

Jamie points to the one after that.

“Rex qui pontem fecit erat Ancus Martius.”

“Awesome.” 

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

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

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

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

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

She really should have just stuck with German instead.