#um. happy new year? i'm just Marinating

[loverboybrightsideghost]

it's always good to have a break. i don't know how non-music college compares, but music school is A Lot Of Work, constantly practicing, rehearsing, playing. lots of homework. there's also the mental and emotional aspect; being an artist you need to separate your art from your sense of self and self worth, and it's pretty difficult sometimes. not to mention, it is a competitive field, so there's always wondering about how you measure up to others, auditioning, if you'll even get the job or into the festival or whatever.

the past two semesters have been rough for me, even though i had a great summer in between, it was a lot of change (not just bc of first/second year of school) in a short amount of time and a lot of that change was bc i wanted it and it was on my shoulders to work to practice to prove i can do it. and i did! i can! i still have a long way to go, but i can do it. i often think or worry i don't deserve to be here, but it's reassuring to know that 1) lots of other people, even people i look up, feel that way too and 2) i AM here, so enough people who know what they're doing think i can do it, and who am i to argue?

however, to my original point, it is good to have a break. i love music, and i would not be doing this if i didn't. but i think i really burned myself out this semester, and as soon as i was on break, i stopped practicing at all for like a week and a half, and then after that i practiced only a bit at the end of the day just to play my instrument.

what i've been doing instead is sleeping in a lot, watching a lot of tv and reading lots of comics, and also just Reading and listening to music. i've also been drawing a lot.

it's good to take a break. i am a musician, and always will be, but i am also a person who likes to sleep and eat and who is obsessed with superman and likes hanging out with my friends.

[pinkslaystation]

If I meant something to you.

toxic!Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

You want him, but does he want you? Part 2 :> Part 3 :< Word Count: 2.1k

Whatever you did, you always found yourself being a disappoint to your parents.

First, it was getting rejected from the university your parents intended you to go to. Then, it was working at a job that didn't utilise your degree. And now, it's complaint after complaint for being in a 'relationship' with some they didn't approve of.

"Honey, I just don't think he's the right one for you..." Your mother complained on the phone for what felt like the thousandth time this day.

You rolled your eyes exasperatingly, happy that she couldn't see your annoyance through the call.

"Ma...you haven't even met him, I don't see why it's such a big deal, I'm finally out of your hair anyways, isn't that what you wanted?" You argued.

Everyday felt like a battle for your parent's time and affection.

Living under the shadows of your siblings was a pain. Your older sister had pursued a law degree at a top university when you were just in high school, and moved abroad to practice at one of the best law firms in the US. Your younger brother, on the other hand, was in their 2nd year studying Aeronautical Engineering at the same university as the elder. You felt like the odd one out in every field.

And here you are, stuck working in retail even though you complete your Bachelors degree in Computer Science.

Whatever you did, just was not enough for your parents.

So you saved enough money from your job, took out a small loan and made the decision to pack your bags and move to the Midlands, which was just regionally higher up than where you initially resided in your family home. How funny was it that you were the last sibling to move out?

After weeks of working your ass of at your new 8-6 job...still in retail, one silent evening after taking out the trash, you found yourself coming face to face to your neighbor.

And to say to he was attractive was an understatement. He had a tall tower-like frame, height ranging anywhere from 6'2 to 6'4, his scarred face was decorated with dirty blonde, short yet soft, hair and a slight stubble. His face, though rough, looked almost model worthy and held a permanent angry face, eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenching as if it hurt to open them.

"You got a staring problem, love?" He scoffed at you, the first time your met. You stumbled over your words, eyes wide as saucepans.

"!- we- um..who..who are you?"

The blonde chuckled at you sarcastically, "Your neighbour, Riley, you won't see as often so close that bloody mouth of yours."

And he was right, out of 7 months of living at your new flat, you'd seen him only a handful of times. You often found yourself questioning his occupation, why exactly he hangs out and about the area for a week, then just suddenly just disappears, like a ghost.

You'd learnt from the other residents that he worked within the military, whether it was the marines, the air force or the army, you never knew, until one faithful morning, you found yourself nestled against his broad warm chest, both of you hungover from the block party that all of the residents had been invited to.

"Hmm...mornin'" He grunts out at you, and the slightly reddening marks running down his neck and the bruising hand prints on your waist told you enough about the previous night.

You stiffen next to him, but his rough skin grazing against your skin urges to continue to curl up beside him.

Fast-forward another 5 months, it's been nearly a year of knowing 'Riley' and nearly a year you'd seen anyone from your family. You've always wanted to know how long they would be able to go on without you...and you'd finally got your answer.

You've learnt a lot of things about 'Riley'. For starters, his full name was Simon, though everyone in the building referred to him by his last name (you'd pestered him too much, and he finally caved in and allowed you to call him by his first name). He was almost 10 years elder to you and his striking face was usually masked with a black balaclava or those disposable ones.

"Ma, I'm happy, why can't you just be happy for me?"

"Sweetheart, why don't you come home for the weekend and we can finally meet this man. I mean since you're exclusive and everything."

"We...we're not that level yet-"

"Your older sister's getting married and she's only 4 years older than you.-"

"Why do you keep bringing her up? What's she got to do with this?"

"Honey, listen, me and your father are happy you're with someone. I mean this is the first time someone actually liked you right?"

Ouch.

"It wouldn't hurt to meet the old fella, no?"

Ah, one important part I forgot to mention.

You weren't dating Simon.

In fact, you guys never really established a relationship between the two of you. When he was home from deployment, your evening usually consisted of lazing about after work, wine in hand, Simon walking in, a few words exchanged here and there about his work-

Oh, and the night ending with a good rough fucking.

The morning would come by and you'd walk into your shift, your hickey-adorned chest and neck covered with a black turtleneck although it was the middle of August (and against the uniform policy).

So one night you decided to break away from his dominating kiss, and sit him down for a heartfelt conversation-

"Why'd you want to complicate things," he sneers, "we're just fuck buddies yeah?"

"Excuse me? So, what those 5 months didn't mean shit to you?" You scoffed, rather offended that he looked down at you, just like your family.

"You're old enough to be my kid, what make you think this was gonna go anywhere?" He stands up, lighting a smoke, knowing you hated the stench of his cigarettes in your room. It was always your room, always your flat. You can't remember the last time you even went to Simon's place, if there ever was a time.

"Who has a kid at 10? And why'd you keep fucking me? And I'm 24 fucking years old, Jesus, why does that not go through anyone's thick ass skull?!"

"Calm down love, thought this arrangement was mutual, I've got pent up frustration from the military, you're pent up 'cos no one else wants you-"

"Those nights didn't mean anything to you?"

"You don't mean anything to me." He asserts furiously. You studied him, the glimpse of that comforting man who stroked your back and kissed your forehead post-sex really wasn't there.

The fuck does this guy think he is?

"Get out."

"Done."

And he gets up and leaves, blowing a puff of smoke as if to scent the room. Just like that. Wow, was there anyone in your life that actually cared about you?

All those Wattpad stories taught you that the guy usually fights for his lover, screaming back saying that he won't leave without a fight, arguing that that the pair deserved each other. And yet, here you are, sobbing in the shower, unable to differentiate whether your body is getting soaked from the water or from the river of salty tears streaming down your dull, lifeless face, all because the guy you wanted never truly wanted you back.

You felt used, mainly your body. Rubbing yourself full of soap just caused your mind to flash back to his thick calloused hands massaging every inch of skin.

When you occasionally saw him at the building get together, which you wonder why he even attends considering he just hates and complains about everyone (everyone but you of course), you'd find yourself glued on the spot, lips quivering, tears threatening to spill again- and the throbbing. Man, the throbbing you felt between your legs. If it wasn't for his dick, you'd really be wondering why you craved him so bad, because it's definitely not his nasty personality.

And every time you open your mouth to say something to him, to call him over, to greet him, hell you should be cursing him out in front of everyone, he just stormed out with his head down with what looks like a combination of embarrassment or grief.

Until one night, you get a phone call from your older sister, the unsaved number appearing unfamiliar to you. Your hesitant to pick up.

"Hello?"

"Heyyy," She drags out her words, as if to waste time. You can tell your mother meddled in between, "So, I'm having the engagement party by the end of this month, and um...you free to come? No worries if you can't."

You pause, did she even want you there?

"Sure."

"Cool. Um, Mum says you're seeing someone, you can bring 'em if you want."

"Sure."

"Yeah, dunno if it's serious enough but there's enough space in the venue."

"Sure."

There's a pause on the other line.

"Hey can you say anything other than 'sUrE'?" She mocks you. Your eyebrow twitches in amusement.

"Did you just call to brag about you and your fancy ass engagement party? And the audacity to not send an invite, if you don't want me there, just say it. I'm not a baby anymore." You frustratingly answer.

Your sister remains quiet on the other line and you can tell you struck a nerve.

"I- listen I know we never get along but can you please come? Ma keeps mentioning you, surprisingly, and- and we haven't seen you in months, you don't even reply to the memes on the family group chat..."

You blink. "We have a family group chat?"

The rest of the month was empty, and although you were thankful for no more surprising run-ins with Simon, you missed having a warm body next to you. You learnt from one of the residents that he's been deployed for 3 weeks, this particular one shorter than others.

He confused you, Simon. He hated the idea of being in a relationship with you, yet he did 'relationship things' with you. He disliked when people assumed you two were a couple in public, but he always had his arm around you protectively. Not even education was this stressful.

And as much as you wanted to sit and let the misery marinate into your mind, you knew the date of the engagement party was nearing and you knew you couldn't come empty-handed.

By the end of the 3rd week, you knew Simon had come home, recognising the sound of the heavy footsteps entering his flat next door at 3 in the morning, you being awake from all the stress your high-maintenance sister had thrown suddenly at you. But you couldn't help but notice the sound of a softer treads following his. Maybe he got a pet?

That night, you had trouble sleeping, unsure whether it was the stress of trying to impress your family or the light sound of the headboards of next door creaking. That sound was familiar, reminding you when he was over at your place, rocking gently inside of you, though you question why he's not with you this moment. Usually you'd find him at the other side of the door, tired eyes resembling those of a stray puppy looking for a place to stay.

You close your eyes, your mind racing to the thought of the burly man on the other side of the wall rubbing himself to the thought of you. You sink into the bed, disregarding that unignorable pulsating feeling.

Saturday morning come, and you stretched contently, knowing that you finally had the day off from work. But that short-lived happiness dimmed when you checked the unread notification blasting through your phone.

7:29 A.M. #####:- hey listen i meant it when i said i wanted you there. pls come. #####:- it wouldnt just make ma happy but me too #####:- u gotta be there to make look better haha im joking

You had a feeling that she was not.

7:56 A.M. #####:-and uh, bring your guy as well pls, ma's so excited planning this wedding she wants to get started on the next one too lolol #####:- also she thinks your lying :/

Great, now there's actual pressure to bring someone.

Your morning dose of caffeine didn't hit today, as your body feels heavier than usual as you trudge all the way to your doorstep. When the last time you actually left your apartment if not for work?

Forcing yourself to look decently good, you make your way to your neighbour's doorstep, knocking so softly you almost tried again, until the door abruptly open, revealing a wet toweled Simon.

An eerie silence captures the atmosphere, consists of his eyes drinking in your disheveled appearance after almost a month, and yours undressing him, as if he wasn't already standing almost-nude.

He opens his mouth to say something but you beat him to it, "Listen I know you've been deployed for the past 3 weeks, but listen I need a favour, I know you hate me and don't want to be with me but I really need a date to an engagement party, and I hate men and men hate me so I don't know anyone but you, and here me out, but could you please take some time out of your month to please be my date, I know you don't like me like that, which makes no sense to me 'cos you're in that mask almost the same number of times as you're in me- just please give it a thought-"

There's a cough behind Simon.

A half nude woman runs past you, head down in shame, smilingly guiltily as she tiptoes out of his room. She heard it all, you thought.

You look at Simon, suddenly recollected last night's events, the 2nd footsteps, the headboard banging. It all made sense. You really didn't mean anything to him.

Simon shifts on his feet uncomfortably.

"Surprise?"

its's 2 a.m. as i post this...why do my brain cells suddenly begin to work post-midnight I've decided to start a tag list! -> lemme know you're interested to be tagged in my future posts! tags -> @lilliumrorum

[kit-williams]

Barn Anon. Hey Kit, so um.. about the Fluffuary thing, I know it's started by the time you see this. Butttttttt, the cuckoo bird thing? Yeah I'm making it sad. I'm going with the reason why Alpha Legion are cuckcoo birds being that they can't form bonds the way other Space Marines can. Why? Who knows! Jealousy and desperation is a scary combo though. I promise I'll send something happy to make up.

A sad mournful croon leaves his lips as he stares longingly at the happy space marine and his bonded human. Why? Why can't he have that special connection? What has he and his legion done? Or was it something their Primarchs did that resulted in this painful torment? To walk around knowing that any other space marine has the chance of finding their special human, loyalist or traitor, it didn't matter. But Alpha Legion was the exception it seems.

His legion were among the first few to find themselves in this strange ancient version of Terra. Yet... none of them has bonded.

He spares another glance at the bonded pair before slinking away in the darkness of night. That pair has been bonded for a few years, he won't be successful in trying to take the space marine's place, the human would most certainly pick up on the differences no matter what tricks or charms he pulls. No, he has to find a new pair, one that's still getting used to each other. He can slip in and maybe replace the original marine, he'll have what everyone in Alpha Legion wants, a human of his own.

As he walks away to spy on other Space Marine and humans pairs, he can't shake that voice in his head that tells him that no matter how many pairs he tries to insert himself in, he will never feel the fulfilment of having a true bond. He will never feel that overwhelming protectiveness and devotion for a human, the joy and pride that comes with a happy human. He might be able to fake a bond, but they would deteriorate with time, the human will one day realize what's going on and fear and hate him.

I see your angst and turn it into ??? (Also this horribly would make an amazing Yandere/non canon idea YES I AM BAD I KNOW)((what do you expect I write yandere/smut as my main enjoyment)

"Oh hey buddy there you are!" A voice calls out to him and he suddenly feels a human on him. They're distressed and looking at him pleadingly. He picks them up and starts to nuzzle them as she coos at him.

"Oh so you do have an Astarte." A male voice says and he can sense her distress spike.

"Yep and he's such a good boy staying in the area until I was done with my date. Aren't you?" She says looking at him and he's a smart alpha legionary to know that this human was coming to him for help. He held onto this human tighter looking down at the male as he nuzzled and played into being a good boy.

This might be his ticket! Why try to usurp a bond when one came literally running over to him? The Alpha legion didn't know why they didn't form bonds some of them were fine with it but others... like himself were jealous over the fact that they couldn't.

"Well how about we-"

"Nope I've got to go home he's been waiting for me and is quite clingy. I'll uhh call you later." She says to the male as she looks to him, "Sorry for making you wait big guy." He turns to walk away as he can see her eyes darting back to the guy as she lets out a huge relieved sigh. "Oh my God thank you so much... you might have saved my life."

He crooned softly in gothic as he just told her how he was going to be her Astartes now. He would make this bond work... he could already feel it in a sense. He was already protective over her and ready to be devoted... he would fake it till he made it! He was an Alpha Legionary after all... that was their specialty.

[lunicho]

600 YIPPEEE!!!! Bunny 600 party I’ll bring cookies !!! You deserve all the love 🥺❤️❤️

Thank you for lowkey keeping Lunétumblr alive🫡 I know you don’t write big stuff a lot but all of the drabbles and even agreeing with anon thoughts means a lot to me and I’m sure it means a lot to other Lunés too 🥺

Wishing the best for u as a person and for the blog too 🙏🙏 if things ever get slow don’t worry there’s no rush we’ll always be here 🫡❤️

Would you be ok sharing the story behind how/why u started stanning all the groups you do? Like how you got into BND,RIIZE, etc? Some Bunny lore would be cute 😋

-😵‍💫

600 PARTY LETS GO!!! tysm pookie, you've been here supporting the blog soso much and it means the world to me. i look forward to seeing u around on my blog all the time. i love u so so much!! also what kind of cookies are you bringing!! :o ALSO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I TALK SO FUCKING MUCH 😭

i'm so glad im able to contribute to lunéblr, i genuinely have had so so much fun with all of the teamies anons on here like u guys are hilarious 😭 u guys are also so so consistent here and it means soo much to me seriously <3

i'm wishing the best for you as well, i hope that whatever you decide to do in this world goes well and i hope life treats u well always!

BUNNY LORE!! i love talking so yes, i stan like 89 million groups so i'll do the ones i write for and then u can ask abt other groups i didn't mention if you're curious! also prewarning that literally every group i stan started with me trying not to stan them LMAODGSJ

bnd - i didn't stan them when they first debuted cuz for some reason i always try to stop stanning groups knowing im an addict smh. i also like to give groups a bit to Marinate before i stan so i held off! then in like august last year i started getting funnextdoor tik toks abt leehan and his fishtank and i decided i wanted to watch it for funsies cuz leehan was sooo pretty and so cute so i was curious and uh... yeah that was my first mistake 😭 i full on thought leehan was gonna be my bias but then taesan walked in and snatched me up and bnd is just so addictive i just had to stan. i stuck with bnd because they genuinely make me so happy, they're so fun and they remind me of all the best things about kpop, like i just love them so bad 😖😖 but i officially started stanning them the week after but sometimes came out cuz that song had me hooked 😭 omg i just remembered that their videos kept coming up on my youtube too like the universe was trying to get me to stan since like july 😭

riize - i didn't even attempt to not stan them actually 😭 sungtaro were my nct biases when they debuted so i really really wanted to support them on their new endeavors so i already had plans to at least become acquainted with riize but siren had me MOVINGGGGG 😭😭😭 like i haddd to get in on that like i was Hooked. i couldn't even give them the time to marinate cuz of sungtaro so i just hopped right in 😞 and then my sister started biasing wonbin QUICK and i started biasing anton for like a week and then seunghan collected me 😖 and riize gives me heavy nostalgia so like idk i just love them a lot

&team - i've been supporting them since debut bc enha are one of my ults and ive been familiar with kei since then (i didn't watch iland i just knew abt kei and was familiar with some of the other boys names) and i was so obsessed with under the skin but i didn't end up fully stanning them for a while. i started to learn their names just so i'd know who they were when i see them around and things like that. i didn't start to stan them more until like july last year when i watched more of their content and then i fell off again until like october i think and they quickly became one of my top groups cuz they're so fun idk

zb1 - um i fully wasn't supposed to stan cuz wanna one and jbj disbanding hurted bad enough but while bp was going on i kept seeing clips and THEY HAD ME ROLLINGGG 😭😭 but i was having self restraint ☝🏾🤨 but then sol (adoresol go follow her and send her asks) she told me to watch zb1 content on july 12th 2023 ☝🏾😌 im able to see it in our ig messages LMAODGSJ but i started watching them and learning their names that day, i even told her i liked jiwoong 😖 but yeah then they stuck after that day cuz they make me laugh and they're so fun idk

[crypticspacecat]

bish ykw? ive just realised ive never returned the favour in asking for a request LOOOL so here i am requesting: DILFtaro seeming to always find himself looking like an absolute GOOF in front of his crush, black!fem reader — who also happens to be lil jolyne’s toddler pilates teacher 😁😁

I'm ngl, when I read your request, I was listening to this song LMAO

Hope you enjoy!

(Y/N), the Pilates instructor loves kids. While getting her teaching certification, she works with toddlers part-time. First meeting the instructor, Jotaro was at a loss for words. Her expressive brown eyes, her beautiful goddess locs always in a high ponytail, and radiant brown skin stunned the single father. He almost ran into the door after meeting the young woman, much to his dismay. This feeling, he hasn’t felt this since first meeting his late wife. It’s the first time in years he’s actually considered dating anyone and he feels like a lovesick teenager. 

Move❤️✨️

Being a single dad (or parent for that matter) is not for the weak. Jotaro, despite the passing of his late wife, managed the hurdles pretty damn well. One of the biggest obstacles was properly bonding with Jolyne. Between his grieving and demanding toddler, he was emotionally ready to explode. A saving grace in the form of a co-worker one day tells him about a toddler Pilates class at the local gym. Since then, he’s been taking Jolyne to the local gym while he also gets a workout himself for the past month and a half.

Every time he tries to talk to her, something always seems to trip him up. Whether he either stutters or even freezes before bidding a brief “Goodbye”. He still cringes at what happened last week.

‘Jotaro, like every other week, brings Jolyne to the toddler’s Pilates class. He once again sees her talking to another parent. She of course is sporting her usual pink crop top and leggings that hugged her body well. Especially her butt…

“Oh, good morning Mr. Kujo!” She greets him, snapping him out of his daydreaming state. She walks over, her hips swaying while she walks. The single father’s heart starts to race, making sure he says the right words.

“Hey (Y/N). Um, how’s it going?” He replies sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

“Things are well, classes have been running smoothly! I hear you’re a marine biologist, I bet that’s exciting.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty interesting, I sometimes travel and-”

“HI MS. (Y/N)!” Jolyne yells, prompting Jotaro to mutter a ‘yare yare daze’ whilst covering his face with his cap. The teacher squats down to greet the eager toddler.

“Hi Jolyne! How are you today?” (Y/N) gleams, sincerity in her that Jotaro definitely noticed.

“Am good, my daddy reeeeaaaallly likes you.” Jolyne says, prompting Jotaro to silently scold her.

“What? It’s truuu, are you gonna be my new momm-”

“Ok, um I have to go before I’m late for work. Have fun Jolyne.” Jotaro says before speeding out of the gym, face red as a tomato.’

Hoping she doesn’t remember the incident, he brings Jolyne to the gym once more. Jotaro sees (Y/N) making small talk with a parent. She’s once again sporting her usual crop top with pitch-black leggings. 

“Hi, Dr. Kujo!” The teacher greets him, making her way to him and Jolyne. He admires the way her hips sway as she walks toward him.

“Hey, how’s the class going?” He asks

“Class is good, everyone is doing well and making vast improvements. Happy to see you, Jolyne!” She gleams, squatting at Jolyne’s height.

“Hi Ms. (Y/N)!” Jolyne says before running to her friends. 

“Jolyne is great kid, she’s always super eager in class.” (Y/N) says as she gets up from her squatting position.

“Yeah, she always had a fiery spirit.” He says, trying to be nonchalant.

“Oh, also, about last week-”

“I’m really sorry about that, Jolyne can be a little much sometimes.” Jotaro shyly says, still having the scene replay in his head.

“It’s fine, I actually wanted to ask you something.”

“Oh...um, sure.” Jotaro mutters, feeling his palms getting sweaty.

“Um, whenever you’re free, maybe you want to go out to dinner?” she asks, shocking Jotaro. He honestly never considered whether she liked him back or not. The stalling lasts for a few more seconds before Jotaro finally answers.

“Yeah, I would love to.” He says, gaining some last-minute courage. She smiles at the answer, making his heart skip a beat. He actually did it! Well, she asked him first, but Jotaro still counts this as a victory.

“Oh, here’s my number and you can call me anytime.” (Y/N) mentions with a wink. Jotaro shares his contact information before leaving for work and her class starting. 

He gets in the car, dramatically taking a deep breath before starting the car. He drives away from the gym with a small smirk on his face, looking forward to the date.

[evsalonyx]

In which Iroh is a Sly EelHound

From chapter two of Under the Southern Moon

https://archiveofourown.org/works/41371608

Zuko hurried around the pink room, setting the table with an artisanal tea set he had brought in from Ba Sing Se. Everything was almost perfect. He stopped in his tracks, smacked his forehead, and groaned. Sugar. Everything was not perfect.

"Hey Lee, can you run and get the sugar? I'm sorry, I forgot it." Zuko's voice only held a hint of nerves.

The servant nodded and hurried off. Zuko sat down to admire his work, the tea ceremony preparation was without fault, except for the sugar. Lee came back quickly, and he set the sugar container on the small table and waited, kneeling on the other side. There was a knock at the door. Zuko was up in a flash, opening it for his Uncle. He wrapped the squat man in a hug and almost lifted him off the floor. “You’re getting strong, or I’m losing weight.”

“Trust me, you’re definitely not losing, uncle.”

Laughter rolled through Iroh as he sat down at the tea table. “Your wit is delightful. If not a bit insulting.” He teased me.

When Zuko got to work, he sat the cup of tea gingerly down in front of his uncle. The old man paused before he took a sip and sniffed.

"It smells like your tea making skills have improved over time, but I will wait to taste it before I make judgements."

Iroh took a long sip. "Not terrible. You have improved, nephew." After taking another sip he looked up from his cup.

"Now, due to the urgency I doubt this is a social visit. How can I help you?"

Zuko retrieved the letter from his desk and handed it to his uncle.

"Sokka and Suki are getting married."

Uncle's smile widened. "What happy news! Marriage is like a great adventure on the high seas, sometimes rough, sometimes calm, but if two people can work together, they can sail off into their sunset."

Zuko raised an eyebrow. Again with the metaphors.

"Yeah, um. So I've been invited, and uh, I'd like to go, so,would you act as regent?"

Uncle stroked his beard. "I would be happy to. It has been so long since you took a vacation. You need to relax more."

Zuko rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't think it will be much of a vacation. Mai wants me to propose, she's getting antsy, and she's not happy about this trip." He ran his pale hand through his black hair.

"And going to a wedding is going to put her more on edge."

Iroh nodded and let out an understanding sigh.

"Are you nervous about getting married?"

"Yes, no, I don't know."

Uncle took another sip of tea and let Zuko marinate in the silence.

"Mai is amazing, she's a great warrior, she knows about court life, I love her, but I'm just not ready to be married."

"There's nothing wrong with taking your own path on your own time in life. You of all people know that. However, in a practical sense, the future of the fire nation needs to be secure, and if something were to happen to you, you would not leave an heir, and chaos and civil war might break out. Children are a joyful blessing, and it is an unfortunate reality of your position that they must be viewed as a necessity."

Zuko felt the candle light in the room flicker with his anxiousness.

"I know, I know I need to have an... heir. It's just, when I'm with her, she's always angry, or annoyed, or sad, we just don't connect and I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't. I can’t imagine dealing with that every day, all while trying to lead the nation out of this damn pit we’ve been in for 100 years.

Iroh let his nephew finish.

"I think she loves you in her own way, but there are many different forms of love, and you can have more than one love over a lifetime, sometimes when two people love each other they grow apart."

Zuko looked down at the water tribe insignia on the letter and ran his thumb over it.

"But new loves always come.” Iroh sat his tea cup down on the table, observing how the leaves settled in the bottom of the green cup. “or old ones come back."

"You're thinking about Katara."

"No, but you are." Iroh smirked in his cheerful way as if he had just won a friendly game of pai-sho.

Damn. He knew that Azula had inherited her ability to get at what was in his mind from Iroh, not Ozai.

[givemethatgold]

Fix’er Upper Pt. 5

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of past abusive relationship, swearing, past drug use, alcohol

Word Count: 1.8k

Notes:

Parts ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR

Your injury, and consequential recovery time, couldn’t have come at a better time. The harvest was done and the apples had to rest before being pressed, which meant Frankie was now free to start working on your home. The work didn’t often require more than two hands so the days found you doing menial tasks being his gopher.

“You know,” Frankie had had to explain to you, “Go’fer this, go’fer that.”

This mainly consisted of you passing him tools while he was swearing under his breath in the attic, or groaning after rapping his knuckles under the sink, or white-faced and clinging to the weathervane on the roof. 

You had discovered Frankie’s sweet tooth on the first day of renovations, not noticing until after he’d left for the day that more than half the cookies you’d baked that morning were already gone. Making sure he was kept happy, you had a new treat ready for when he walked in the door. 

He was a coffee drinker though, and while you owned a coffee press you had never actually used it yourself, preferring tea leaves for your dose of caffeine. You’d tried, the first morning, to make a cup for him. You even googled How to Make a Cup of Coffee? to make sure you didn’t fuck it up. 

You could laugh about it now, but the look on Frankie’s face after he’d taken his first sip made you worry you had poisoned him. He had spat the black sludge out and handed you back the mug with a look of bewildered disgust. Apparently, you needed to grind the beans first, who knew?

An efficient, if not quite comfortable, rhythm had been forged between the two of you over the past week and a half. Frankie would arrive at nine in the morning, scarf down half a dozen treats while discussing the day’s projects. You would run to town in his truck (yours was still at the autobody shop awaiting parts) and buy any supplies that would be needed while he set up the worksites and organized the tools that would be required.

You had added popping into the local café for a large coffee for Frankie and a red rooibos latte with almond milk for yourself. The first couple of days you had bought him a brownie too but stopped after he’d only half-finished the first one and mumbled through the crumbs in his mouth that yours were better. It only took you three days before the owner had your order ready for you before you even walked in the door, five days before you noticed the sidelong glances the little old ladies were giving each other as you walked out.

Small towns, you thought to yourself, rolling your eyes, had the unique benefit and downfall of everyone knowing everyone else’s business. They’d quit with the hardly-concealed smirks if they knew how awkward working with Frankie was becoming.

You had been sure, in the immediate aftermath of waking up in Frankie’s arms while his truck sat in your driveway, that he was never going to speak to you again. The two of you and hopped out and began explaining away whatever conclusions Jacquie and Mark had made. Then Frankie, without even looking in your general direction, told Jacquie to get you inside and have your wrist looked at. 

To his credit, he had taken care of everything regarding your truck for you. The tow truck came and hauled it to the yard, Frankie had commandeered the inspection report and, after calling them out on trying to swindle you into buying unnecessary parts, had ordered what was needed and paid. 

You had, naturally, argued against this but you both knew you weren’t in a position to afford it. Frankie shut down your arguments gracefully, and broke his apparent vow of silence, with a gruff “I’m just doing it so I can drive my damn truck without you changing the radio station.” The absolute charmer.

It was your damn house, though, so you decided you'd talk as much as you wanted and it would be up to him to interact. Either that or you had music blaring from the radio, never playing his favourite country station purely out of spite. 

Never quite sure if he was listening or not, you rambled on about anything and everything. You explained your vision for the house and the plans you had for a greenhouse in the yard. Memories from your childhood were described in great detail, as were embarrassing stories from your year in college. Baking tips, waxing poetic about your love for sunflowers, interesting animal facts, you'd even downloaded a Word of the Day App and made a game of fitting the words into your daily uninterrupted monologues.

It took three days for Frankie to break.

You had been reminiscing about your trip to Disneyland as a child when he abruptly cut in, voice muffled due to the nails being held between his lips.

"You never talk about it."

You assumed he was referring to the little all-day nap you’d shared in his truck, as it had yet to be spoken of, but were taken aback by the slight accusatory tone.

"Talk about what?"

He took so long to reply, you started to think that he had interrupted purely to shut you up. The silence demanded an explanation though, so you kept your mouth shut and waited.

Clambering down from the attic, where he had been strengthening the trusses throughout the sagging section of roof, Frankie pinned you with his gaze and softly repeated himself.

"You never talk about it. The time in your life when you were married." He must have seen your hackles rise because he quickly set down the hammer and held his hands up in a placating wave.

"You still haven't answered my question about being in the army," was your quick response, finished with an ever-so-mature, "so there."

With a resigned sigh, Frankie twisted his hat around backward and scrubbed his hands across his face. "Come on" -waving you towards the patio doors- "these kinds of conversations require fresh air and a drink."

Reluctantly you followed him outside but rather than sinking down onto the porch swing you opted to lean against the post facing it. Opening two ciders, which you now had free access to, you handed one to Frankie and watched him over the top of the bottle.

Half of your drink was gone and your mind had wandered to greenhouse and flower garden placement before Frankie spoke again. His voice low and quiet catching you by surprise.

"Yeah," he broke the silence with another ragged sigh, "I, uh, I served. Started in the Air Force, worked my way up to Special Tactics Squadron. Made enough noise there to get recruited to Delta Force."

"Oh, fuck," your exclamation was soft with shock "you've seen some shit then." Blast your runaway mouth and its inability to wait for your brain to catch up before blurting out your inner thoughts. "I'm sorry!-"

"No, it's okay" Frankie interrupted, trying to reassure you and remove the horrified look that had come across your face. 

"No, no, that was totally uncalled for. Brad, my um, my husband, he was a Marine. He hated talking about it, said no one liked talking about it. I should have known."

"It's not that," Frankie reassured you again, "You were the first person to ever ask me about it, in all the time I've lived here. Just took me by surprise."

Leaning over in the swing, Frankie pulled out his wallet from his back pocket and handed you a photo from inside it. Five men beamed up at you. You could recognize them from a few of the photos that had rested on Frankie's mantle, they looked older in this one.

"Tell me about them?" you asked, knowing that most of the request was due to curiosity but a small part of you hoped that if you kept him talking you could avoid the subject of your marriage.

The sun was beginning to set and you'd long moved inside to eat dinner by the time Frankie was done sharing. It must have been cathartic, you mused, for him to bare this much about himself. He had never looked more relaxed in all the time you'd known him, which wasn't saying much and it could just as easily been due to the amount of alcohol thrumming through his system.

The room fell into a companionable silence, each of you digesting the information that had been revealed. You were in awe of the fact that, despite the life of violence he had witnessed, Frankie still maintained his humanity. Even after a messy divorce and lost custody battle, Frankie continued to choose the path of healing. He was clean, was fighting for shared custody of his daughter again, running his own business, and still had found time to endear himself into the town's hearts.

Frankie was, for all his sharp edges and gruff words, a sweetheart.

It put into stark comparison how Brad had reacted to the lemons life had served him. Born into an upper-middle-class home, the only son, doted on by his parents, Brad had been raised into a life where every door was open to him. Despite this, or maybe because of it, he had grown hateful of those weaker than him. He was controlling but had just the right amount of charm to pass it off as caring.

"I've met men like that," 

You nearly jumped out of your skin from surprise. Looking at Frankie with wide-eyed shock you wondered again what the hell was in the cider. This was the second time you'd poured your heart out to a virtual stranger, but this time you hadn't even realized you'd started speaking your thoughts aloud. 

Squaring your shoulders and holding Frankie's gaze you continued, almost challenging him to find someone worse than Brad had been.

"He made me quit college because he said he wanted to start a family. Then berated me and acted like it was all my fault every time the pregnancy test came back negative. You know what that asshole did?" Tears were threatening to fall but you held on to Frankie's gaze, "He had gotten a vasectomy months earlier. I didn't find out about it until after he died; going through paperwork that had been stored in his desk."

Frankie was up on his feet now, pacing around the kitchen island, too distraught to keep still. How could anyone be so cruel? Let alone be so cruel to someone as sweet and pure as you. He hated seeing you cry but knowing you weren't receptive to people being in your personal space, wasn't sure how to comfort you. 

Acting on pure instinct he grabbed the kettle and started preparing you some tea, not allowing himself to ruminate how he knew which flavour you preferred. Setting your favourite pottery mug in front of you, along with the little honey pot, he also decided to grab the fluffy throw blanket off your couch. 

"I get it now," he thought to himself offhandedly, "why women have so many fuckin' blankets and pillows in every room."

Placing the throw around your shoulders he was preparing to say goodnight and let you have some peace but was stilled by your hand reaching up and covering his.

"Please. Stay."

Part SIX

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[thewidowsghost]

Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 1

So, I started this on my Wattpad, and if figured I'd just put it on here! Just tell me if you want me to add you to the taglist!

Percy's POV

My name is Percy Jackson.

I am twelve years old. I'm a boarding student at Yancy Academy, a private school for troubled kids in upstate New York, and my sister, (Y/n), taking online schooling at home.

Am I a troubled kid?

Yeah. You could say that.

I could start at any point in my short miserable life to prove it, but things really started going bad last May, when our sixth-grade class took a field trip to Manhattan—twenty-eight mental-case kids and two teachers on a yellow school bus, heading to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to look at ancient Greek and Roman stuff.

I know—it sounds like torture. Most Yancy field trips were.

But Mr. Brunner, our Latin teacher, was leading this trip, so I had hopes.

Mr. Brunner was this middle-aged guy in a motorized wheelchair. He had thinning hair and a scruffy beard and a frayed tweed jacket, which always smelled like coffee. You wouldn't think he'd be cool, but he told stories and jokes and let us play games in class. He also had this awesome collection of Roman armor and weapons, so he was the only teacher whose class didn't put me to sleep.

I hoped the trip would be okay. At least, I hoped that for once I wouldn't get in trouble.

See, bad things happen to me on field trips. Like at my fifth-grade school, when we went to the Saratoga battlefield, I had this accident with a Revolutionary War cannon. I wasn't aiming for the school bus, but of course, I got expelled anyway. And before that, at my fourth-grade school, when we took a behind-the-scenes tour of the Marine World shark pool, I sort of hit the wrong lever on the catwalk and our class took an unplanned swim. And the time before that...Well, you get the idea.

On this trip, I was determined to be good.

All the way into the city, I put up with Nancy Bobofit, the freckly, redheaded kleptomaniac girl, hitting my best friend Grover in the back of the head with chunks of peanut butter-and-ketchup sandwich.

Grover was an easy target. He was scrawny. He cried when he got frustrated. He must've been held back several grades because he was the only sixth grader with acne and the start of a wispy beard on his chin. On top of all that, he was crippled. He had a note excusing him from PE for the rest of his life because he had some kind of muscular disease in his legs. He walked funny, like every step hurt him, but don't let that fool you. You should've seen him run when it was enchilada day in the cafeteria.

Anyway, Nancy Bobofit was throwing wads of sandwiches that stuck in his curly brown hair, and she knew I couldn't do anything back to her because I was already on probation. The headmaster had threatened me with death by in-school suspension if anything bad, embarrassing, or even mildly entertaining happened on this trip.

"I'm going to kill her," I mumble.

Grover tries to calm me down. "I'm okay. I like peanut butter -" He dodges another piece of Nancy's lunch.

"That's it." I start to get up, but Grover pulls me back to my seat.

"You're already on probation," he reminds me. "You know who'll get blamed if anything happens."

Mr. Brunner leads the museum tour.

He rides up front in his wheelchair, guiding us through the big echoey galleries, past marble statues and glass cases full of really old black-and-orange pottery.

It blows my mind that this stuff had survived for two thousand, three thousand years.

He gathers us around a thirteen-foot-tall stone column with a big sphinx on the top, and starts telling us how it was a grave marker, a stele, for a girl about our age. He told us about the carvings on the sides. I was trying to listen to what he had to say, because it was kind of interesting, but everybody around me was talking, and every time I told them to shut up, the other teacher chaperone, Mrs. Dodds, would give me the evil eye.

Mrs. Dodds was this little math teacher from Georgia who always wore a black leather jacket, even though she was fifty years old. She looked mean enough to ride a Harley right into your locker. She had come to Yancy halfway through the year when our last math teacher had a nervous breakdown.

From her first day, Mrs. Dodds loved Nancy Bobofit and figured I was devil spawn. She would point her crooked finger at me and say, "Now, honey," real sweet, and I knew I was going to get after-school detention for a month.

One time, after she'd made me erase answers out of old math workbooks until midnight, I told Grover I didn't think Mrs. Dodds was human. He looked at me, real serious, and said, "You're absolutely right."

Mr. Brunner keeps talking about Greek funeral art.

Finally, Nancy Bobofit snickers something about the naked guy on the stele, and I turn around and say, "Will you shut up?"

It comes out louder than I meant it to.

The whole group laughs. Mr. Brunner stops his story. "Mr. Jackson," he says, "did you have a comment?"

My face is totally red, I think. I answer, "No, sir."

Mr. Brunner points to one of the pictures on the stele. "Perhaps you'll tell us what this picture represents?"

I look at the carving, and feel a flush of relief, because I actually recognize it. "That's Kronos eating his kids, right?"

"Yes," Mr. Brunner says, obviously not satisfied. "And he did this because..."

"Well..." I rack my brain to remember. (Y/n) would have known the answer. She was nuts for this kind of stuff. "Kronos was the king god, and —"

"God?" Mr. Brunner asks.

"Titan," I correct myself. "And...he didn't trust his kids, who were the gods. So, um, Kronos ate them, right? But his wife hid baby Zeus, and gave Kronos a rock to eat instead. And later, when Zeus grew up, he tricked his dad, Kronos, into barfing up his brothers and sisters—"

"Eeew!" says one of the girls behind me.

"—and so there was this big fight between the gods and the Titans," I continue, "and the gods won."

Some snickers from the group.

Behind me, Nancy Bobofit mumbles to a friend, "Like we're going to use this in real life. Like it's going to say on our job applications, 'Please explain why Kronos ate his kids.'"

"And why, Mr. Jackson," Brunner says, "to paraphrase Miss Bobofit's excellent question, does this matter in real life?"

"Busted," Grover mutters.

"Shut up," Nancy hisses, her face even brighter red than her hair.

At least Nancy got packed, too. Mr. Brunner was the only one who ever caught her saying anything wrong. He had radar ears.

I think about his question, and shrug. "I don't know, sir."

"I see." Mr. Brunner looks disappointed. "Well, half credit, Mr. Jackson. Zeus did indeed feed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him disgorge his other five children, who, of course, being immortal gods, had been living and growing up completely undigested in the Titan's stomach. The gods defeated their father, sliced him to pieces with his own scythe, and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld. On that happy note, it's time for lunch. Mrs. Dodds, would you lead us back outside?"

The class drifts off, the girls holding their stomachs, the guys pushing each other around and acting like doofuses.

Grover and I were about to follow when Mr. Brunner said, "Mr. Jackson."

I knew that was coming.

I tell Grover to keep going; then I turn toward Mr. Brunner. "Sir?" Mr. Brunner had this look that wouldn't let you go—intense brown eyes that could've been a thousand years old and had seen everything. "You must learn the answer to my question," Mr. Brunner tells me.

"About the Titans?"

'"About real life. And how your studies apply to it."

"Oh."

"What you learn from me," he says, "is vitally important. I expect you to treat it as such. I will accept only the best from you, Percy Jackson."

I mean, sure, it was kind of cool on tournament days, when he dressed up in a suit of Roman armor and shouted: "What ho!" and challenged us, swordpoint against chalk, to run to the board and name every Greek and Roman person who had ever lived, and their mother, and what god they worshipped. But Mr. Brunner expected me to be as good as everybody else, despite the fact that I have dyslexia and attention deficit disorder and I had never made above a C– in my life. No—he didn't expect me to be as good; he expected me to be better. And I just couldn't learn all those names and facts, much less spell them correctly.

I mumble something about trying harder, while Mr. Brunner takes one long sad look at the stele, like he'd been at this girl's funeral.

He tells me to go outside and eat my lunch.

The class gathers on the front steps of the museum, where we can watch the foot traffic along Fifth Avenue.

Overhead, a huge storm is brewing, with clouds blacker than I'd ever seen over the city. I figure maybe it was global warming or something, because the weather all across New York state had been weird since Christmas. We'd had massive snow storms, flooding, wildfires from lightning strikes. I wouldn't have been surprised if this was a hurricane blowing in.

Nobody else seems to notice, though. Some of the guys are pelting pigeons with Lunchables crackers. Nancy Bobofit is trying to pickpocket something from a lady's purse, and, of course, Mrs. Dodds isn't seeing a thing.

Grover and I sit on the edge of the fountain, away from the others. We thought that maybe if we did that, everybody wouldn't know we were from that school—the school for loser freaks who couldn't make it elsewhere.

"Detention?" Grover asked.

"Nah," I said. "Not from Brunner. I just wish he'd lay off me sometimes. I mean—I'm not a genius, not like (Y/n). She seems to know everything."

Grover doesn't say anything for a while. Then, when I think he is going to give me some deep philosophical comment to make me feel better, he asks, "Can I have your apple?"

I don't have much of an appetite, so I let him take it.

I watch the stream of cabs going down Fifth Avenue, and think about my mom's apartment, only a little ways uptown from where we sit. I hadn't seen her or my sister since Christmas. I want so bad to jump in a taxi and head home. Mom and (Y/n) would hug me and be glad to see me, but Mom would be disappointed, too. She'd send me right back to Yancy, remind me that I had to try harder, even if this was my sixth school in six years and I was probably going to be kicked out again. I couldn't be able to stand that sad look she'd give me.

Mr. Brunner parked his wheelchair at the base of the handicapped ramp. He ate celery while he read a paperback novel. A red umbrella stuck up from the back of his chair, making it look like a motorized café table.

I am about to unwrap my sandwich when Nancy Bobofit appears in front of me with her ugly friends—I guess she'd gotten tired of stealing from the tourists—and dumps her half-eaten lunch in Grover's lap.

"Oops." She grins at me with her crooked teeth. Her freckles are orange, as if somebody had spray-painted her face with liquid Cheetos.

I try to stay cool. The school counselor had told me a million times, "Count to ten, get control of your temper." But I am so mad my mind went blank. A wave roars in my ears.

I don't remember touching her, but the next thing I knew, Nancy is sitting on her butt in the fountain, screaming, "Percy pushed me!"

Mrs. Dodds materialized next to us.

Some of the kids were whispering: "Did you see—"

"—the water—"

"—like it grabbed her—"

I don't know what they were talking about. All I know is that I was in trouble again.

As soon as Mrs. Dodds is sure poor little Nancy was okay, promising to get her a new shirt at the museum gift shop, etc., etc., Mrs. Dodds turns on me. There was a triumphant fire in her eyes as if I'd done something she'd been waiting for all semester. "Now, honey—"

"I know," I grumble. "A month erasing workbooks." That wasn't the right thing to say.

"Come with me," Mrs. Dodds says.

"Wait!" Grover yelps. "It was me. I pushed her."

I stare at him, stunned. I can't believe he was trying to cover for me. Mrs. Dodds scared Grover to death.

She glares at him so hard his whiskery chin trembled.

"I don't think so, Mr. Underwood," she says.

"But—"

"You—will—stay—here."

Grover looks at me desperately.

"It's okay, man," I tell him. "Thanks for trying."

"Honey," Mrs. Dodds barks at me. "Now."

Nancy Bobofit smirks. I give her my deluxe I'll-kill-you-later stare. Then I turn to face Mrs. Dodds, but she isn't there. She is standing at the museum entrance, way at the top of the steps, gesturing impatiently at me to come on.

How'd she get there so fast?

I have moments like that a lot, when my brain falls asleep or something, and the next thing I know I've missed something, as if a puzzle piece fell out of the universe and left me staring at the blank place behind it. The school counselor told me this was part of the ADHD, my brain misinterpreting things.

I wasn't so sure. I go after Mrs. Dodds.

Halfway up the steps, I glance back at Grover. He is looking pale, cutting his eyes between me and Mr. Brunner, like he wanted Mr. Brunner to notice what was going on, but Mr. Brunner is absorbed in his novel.

I look back up. Mrs. Dodds had disappeared again. She is now inside the building, at the end of the entrance hall.

Okay, I think. She's going to make me buy a new shirt for Nancy at the gift shop.

But apparently, that wasn't the plan.

I follow her deeper into the museum. When I finally catch up to her, we are back in the Greek and Roman section.

Except for us, the gallery is empty.

Mrs. Dodds stands with her arms crossed in front of a big marble frieze of the Greek gods. She is making this weird noise in her throat, like growling.

Even without the noise, I would've been nervous. It's weird being alone with a teacher, especially Mrs. Dodds. Something about the way she looked at the frieze as if she wanted to pulverize it...

"You've been giving us problems, honey," she says.

I do the safe thing. I reply, "Yes, ma'am."

She tugs on the cuffs of her leather jacket. "Did you really think you would get away with it?"

The look in her eyes is beyond mad. It was evil.

She's a teacher, I thought nervously. It's not like she's going to hurt me. I say, "I'll—I'll try harder, ma'am."

Thunder shakes the building.

"We are not fools, Percy Jackson," Mrs. Dodds said. "It was only a matter of time before we found you out. Confess, and you will suffer less pain."

I didn't know what she's talking about.

All I can think of was that the teachers must've found the illegal stash of candy I'd been selling out of my dorm room. Or maybe they'd realized I got my essay on Tom Sawyer from the Internet without ever reading the book and now they were going to take away my grade. Or worse, they were going to make me read the book.

"Well?" she demands.

"Ma'am, I don't..."

"Your time is up," she hisses.

Then the weirdest thing happens. Her eyes begin to glow like barbecue coals. Her fingers stretch, turning into talons. Her jacket melts into large, leathery wings. She isn't human. She is a shriveled hag with bat wings and claws and a mouth full of yellow fangs, and she was about to slice me to ribbons.

Then things got even stranger.

Mr. Brunner, who'd been out in front of the museum a minute before, wheels his chair into the doorway of the gallery, holding a pen in his hand.

"What ho, Percy!" he shouts and tosses the pen through the air.

Mrs. Dodds lunges at me.

With a yelp, I dodge and feel talons slash the air next to my ear. I snatch the ballpoint pen out of the air, but when it hits my hand, it isn;t a pen anymore. It is a sword—Mr. Brunner's bronze sword, which he always uses on tournament day.

Mrs. Dodds spins towards me with a murderous look in her eyes.

My knees are jelly. My hands are shaking so bad I almost drop the sword.

She snarl, "Die, honey!" And she flies straight at me.

Absolute terror runs through my body. I did the only thing that came naturally: I swing the sword.

The metal blade hits her shoulder and passes clean through her body as if she was made of water. Hisss!

Mrs. Dodds was a sandcastle in a power fan. She explodes into yellow powder, vaporizing on the spot, leaving nothing but the smell of sulfur and a dying screech and a chill of evil in the air, as if those two glowing red eyes are still watching me.

I'm alone.

There is a ballpoint pen in my hand.

Mr. Brunner isn't there. Nobody is there but me.

My hands are still trembling. My lunch must've been contaminated with magic mushrooms or something.

Had I imagined the whole thing?

I walk back outside.

It had started to rain.

Grover is sitting by the fountain, a museum map tented over his head. Nancy Bobofit is still standing there, soaked from her swim in the fountain, grumbling to her ugly friends. When she sees me, she says, "I hope Mrs. Kerr whipped your butt."

I answer, "Who?"

"Our teacher. Duh!"

I blink. We don't have a teacher named Mrs. Kerr. I ask Nancy what she is talking about.

She just rolls her eyes and turns away.

I ask Grover where Mrs. Dodds was.

"Who?" he asks, but he pauses first and he wouldn't look at me, so I figure he was messing with me.

"Not funny, man," I tell him. "This is serious."

Thunder booms overhead.

I see Mr. Brunner sitting under his red umbrella, reading his book as if he'd never moved.

I go over to him.

He looks up, a little distracted. "Ah, that would be my pen. Please bring your own writing utensil in the future, Mr. Jackson."

I had Mr. Brunner his pen. I hadn't even realized I was still holding it.

"Sir," I ask, "where's Mrs. Dodds?"

He stares blankly at me, "Who?"

"The other chaperone. Mrs. Dodds. The pre-algebra teacher."

He frowns and sits forward, looking mildly concerned. "Percy, there is no Mrs. Dodds on this trip. As far as I know, there has never been a Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy. Are you feeling all right?"

Word Count: 3159 words

So yeah, this is the first chapter of this book.

Not much (Y/n) yet, but we'll get there.

Love y'all!              Kaitlynn ❤️😍

[rorynorth]

General Update :)

I'm very late saying this but...Happy New Year!

2022 is definitely going to be...crazy. I have two quarters left of university and then in June I'll be. Uh. Graduating with a bachelor's degree in Marine Biology. Which is completely insane who let me do this.

I'll also be moving to another state after I graduate, either my home state for the summer or possibly to uh like San Diego idk it depends on where I get a job. I'd love to work at an aquarium or zoo but I also might get involved in research somewhere.

As far as writing goes, though, I have a lot planned! Unfortunately, since I'm wrapping up school, I probably won't have a lot of time to be super active on here outside of chapter updates. I'll definitely still be updating regularly, but I'll probably be making art at a lot slower pace.

That being said, I do have some pretty big writing goals for 2022!

Finish writing The Pyramid Chronicles 2 (Almost done! I basically just have the final battle left, and then some editing)

Finish Van Terra II (I'm not very far to be honest, it's a very long book and I'm still in part two of like, seven? But I think I can have it done this year, maybe even by summer)

Do some editing on my books that are already up. I just like to go through every once in awhile as my writing improves and fix up my books! :) And no matter how much editing I do there always seem to be typos that slip through...

Write the second book in the Haunted Blood series (and work on the prequel that I unfortunately have to write now because I got too invested in the backstory of some side characters...Lovers-to-enemies gay magician story coming to a Wattpad near you...someday!)

Draft the third Pyramid chronicles book.

Maaaybe draft the third Van Terra book.

Plan and possibly start drafting my Villain Complex sequel/spin-off

Actually plan and hopefully start writing my high fantasy series

Um also I was in a silly goofy mood and started a new WIP unrelated to anything else going on. Haha anyway lesbian road trip enemies-to-lovers rom com coming your way soon (if I can actually get the plot to make sense!)

Besides all of that, I also still have my idea for a demon/magician book, and two other superhero story ideas, and like a webcomic idea?

Plus Pyramid Chronicles is going to be like, seven books oof. Not counting the sort-of spin-off I also want to write at some point.

And I also keep saying I'm going to write a Plague Saint sequel at some point, sorry to everyone waiting on that but I want to make sure I have a solid idea before I start it!

Basically, my brain is fully of silly little people and I'm going to make it everyone else's problem!! Thank you all for coming with me on this journey. If you read even one of my books I will love you forever.