#its seriously been two days since i finished my first read through

[batwing00]

going to buy a copy of one last stop tomorrow for my rereading purposes.. so.. when will a beautiful butch lesbian be so charming on my everyday commute that i cant help but fall in love with them?? (i dont live anywhere near a subway)

ps they had no RIGHT making jane look that good (and in all the fanart too) MY BRAIN IS GOING TO IMPLODE PLEASE SPARE ME

[kenposting]

New Guy

Summary: Short & sweet; Ken is the new guy at your work - somewhere he keeps calling the ‘real world’. You don’t get that, but what’s new, he never really makes any sense. 

WC: 2.2k

AN: (Insert crying emoji) thank you for all the kind comments on the last Ken brainrot story I wrote omg!!! I just like him... did nawt expect all that. A small part of this was very loosely inspired after reading a blurb by @ideas-live-forever where Ken doesn’t like a latte. Its very cute and you can read it here!

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀⋆˚✿˖°⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You wished you had words to describe him, really. I mean, how many times could you redirect the conversation away from the two of you? Your friends, roomates, classmates, even your family – they all picked up on your recent busy schedule. You were seeing someone, and that someone came off as incredibly alluring and mysterious to them after your hesitance in explaining. 

Ken was not alluring, let alone mysterious. Bless his heart, he was a bit dense actually. You didn’t want to tell people about him - not out of embarrassment, but out of protection for him. This world was a lot different from the one he claimed to be from… another piece of him you didn’t quite understand. You chalked it up to at best a joke or some weird pick up line (him saying he was from “out of this world”) and at worst an actual delusion, but you didn’t mind it. You found it kind of charming. 

You still remember when you first heard about him. There was a new guy at work and your coworkers were laughing about some of the answers he gave on his job interview. You felt a little bad, knowing his answers should’ve been kept confidential, but you couldn’t help but laugh when you overheard them. 

“No, yeah he literally said his last job was ‘beach’. Not lifeguard, not pool attendant, not national park ranger, not even the beach, just beach.” 

You laughed a little to yourself, finishing wiping down one of the tables. You had a morning shift today, like most days, but you wouldn't be open for a little while. You had time to listen. 

“I don’t know, man. At least he can wash a mean dish.” 

They weren’t laughing with him, but rather at him. It did make you a bit sad. He sounded hilarious, honestly. It was probably just a bit that he took too seriously. After all, a job interview isn’t always the best place to joke around like that. 

A metallic ding rang through the restaurant as the door swung open. You looked up to be met with quite the character. He was tall, probably around 6’3” or 6’4”, and tan. Must've been all that time at beach. His stature was broad and his shoulders barely fit through the doorframe. He was dressed in the same uniform you were, except his yellow diner ringer tee was tucked in to a pair of light blue cuffed jeans, paired with white tennis sneakers and white crew socks. He was blonde, clearly by choice, not birth, and he stood with a clean dishtowel draped over his left shoulder. He looked like he just stepped out of an 80’s back-to-school Target ad. 

“Morning, Ken.” 

“Morning! Thank you for the opportunity to work here! So cool…” 

You smiled to yourself, grabbing menus to set out on each table. He looked just as odd as he everyone made him out to be. 

Prep duty was your given task for this morning. Since you typically worked an opening shift before school, you only had to wait tables until 2pm. Doors didn’t open until 9am, so that left you three hours to cut vegetables and fruit while you supervised the new guy. 

“Hey, my office please.” 

Your boss beckoned you, explaining what Ken’s tasks were so you could keep an eye on him. 

“He’ll probably keep to himself, honestly. He seems nervous, but he’s glad to work here. I don’t really… get him.” 

“What do you mean, sir?” 

You boss sighed and shook his head, searching for a way to explain everything. 

“When I asked him about previous employment he just said he worked at ‘beach’ and that he was 'very good at it'. His references were all listed under the name name… his name. Ken. I kept asking if he was, like, a lifeguard or something and why everyone he’s worked for was also named Ken. He just kept repeating, ‘no, sir, just beach,’ and ‘I’m not sure I understand, sir, is your name not Ken too?’ like that made any sense.” 

Air quotes punctuated the absurdity of the whole thing. 

You bit the inside of your lip, stifling a laugh. This guy was wither a genius or actually insane. 

“Anyways…” he trailed off. “He didn’t have much more to say about work, but he said he was in town to study – of course, without any documentation. I guess you don’t need a diploma to wash dishes.” 

Ken did keep to himself mostly, but you could tell he took his job incredibly seriously. His brows furrowed while washing the plates from last night’s dinner rush. He wanted to be good at this, you could tell. You wondered if he took beach the same way, like his life depended on it. 

The day went by quickly. All the girls – and Ken – got off at the same time, switching aprons as the evening crew trickled in. 

“Wanna come to the bar with us tonight? It’s half-price on Tuesdays!” 

You smiled at the offer, but respectfully declined. 

“I’ve got homework, but maybe next time!” 

They sighed, saying you were no fun, waving to you as they all left together. You stayed behind to count and divide the tips. So did Ken, for some reason. 

“You can go home whenever you’re ready, Ken. Good job today.” 

You pretended not to notice his ears perk at your compliment. He was blushing, like… actually blushing. 

“Oh, thank you.” 

He sounded surprised, like he hadn’t ever been told he did well before. 

“What are you doing now?” 

You looked up at him. He was actually quite handsome up close. You both had your backs turned to each other most of the day so you didn’t get a chance to notice. 

His eagerness to learn was also attractive. He wasn’t handsy or gross or trying to hit on you like some of the previous employees you’ve worked with. He was kind and appeared genuine. 

“I’m counting the tip jar from this morning so I can divide the tips between all the morning waitresses. Each of them get their own tips on the bills or in cash, but the ones in the jar are kind of random, so we split all of those. We count morning separately so whatever the evening crew makes can be divided amongst themselves, in case they were busier or slower than us. Its fair that way. You get some too.” 

He looked like you just told him his childhood home caught fire. He was just bewildered at the concept. 

“I get some? But I already got paid for today, they said I’d get it on my 'check' in two weeks.” 

He did not know what a check was. You smiled to yourself, still deciding on wether he was being smart with you or if he was just inexperienced in the world. 

“Yeah, see? 20, 40, 60, 80, 100 in 20s, then 110, 120, 130, 140 in 10s. I already counted the fives – 145, 150, 155, 160, 165, 170, 175, 180, 185 there – and ones, so 186, 7, 8 ,9, 90, 91, 2, 3, 4 ,5, 6, 7, so that’s 197, divided by the staff is $32.83 each.” 

He did not get it at all. He nodded hesitantly, hoping to convince you he understood you just fine. You were explaining it like he should know this, afterall, and he felt kind of insecure that he didn’t get it. You didn’t mean to hurt his feelings and he knew that, but he was just more sensitive than most. 

“So I take it you didn’t make any tips at ‘beach’?” 

He shook his head, answering with complete seriousness. 

“No. We didn’t have money at all, actually.” 

He was always like that. It had been a couple of months now since he started with you. Every day he said something weirder than the day before. Just like today, when he asked if you were doing anything after work. You said homework, as per usual, and watched him panic, replying with, “Oh yeah... me too actually…”

“Yeah? You’re in school?” 

He nodded, another serious look on his face. He had forgotten about homework for a while now. They didn’t have homework in Barbieland. 

The thought alone of this man in a classroom was enough to have you laughing. Sure, he was smart and charming and handsome and good at his job and personable and kind and… lots of other things you didn’t want to admit, but he didn’t strike you as someone that would thrive in an academic environment. 

You took him out for drinks that afternoon. It was a small cafe that also served daydrinks, like mimosas or sangrias. It was a comfortable and safe environment, which was welcome, as today’s assignment was complicated even for you. Who knows why you took organic chemistry as your major. You hated chemistry. Everyone hated chemistry. 

You felt him watching you attentively, like he was checking if you might’ve needed anything. 

“What’s your homework on?” 

He was gentle in his approach. He liked you. 

You looked at him. He truly wanted to know, it wasn’t just small talk. 

You explained it as best at you could, truly, but he looked like he was about to cry, like it physically hurt his brain. Changing the subject, you asked what he was studying. 

“I’m majoring in Patriarchy and minoring in Horses and Beach.” 

You didn’t ask more. He was dead serious, too. He really was highlighitng and placing index notes on a book about horses. Stacked in his (pale yellow) backpack (with tiny embroidered flowers) were heavy textbooks, though, so he must've been studying something. Maybe this was part of the joke. After looking over his course catalogue to help him figure out assignment priority based on credit weights, you saw he was majoring in Gender Studies and minoring in Equine Science and Marine Biology. So yes, patriarchy, horses, and beach. 

The waitress stopped by your table and he panicked again, ordering the same thing as you. A little while later, two Espresso Martinis arrived. You sipped the drink casually, focused on your assignment. 

He didn’t mind it when you weren’t focused on him. He enjoyed your company, even in the quiet. He never felt like you were laughing at him. It was more like you found him funny, but in a nice way. He liked that about you. He liked all of you, actually. 

“Oh, wow!”

He had a sort of outburst that startled you from whatever it was you were reading. You couldn’t remember actually, the look on his face made you forget what you had just read. 

“Oh my gosh, that is terrible!!” 

He spoke in an elevated whisper, careful to not offend the workers. 

“Why does it hurt, is something wrong with it??” 

You covered your mouth to keep from laughing at him. He looked truly horrified. 

“Have you never had anything with alcohol in it before? I thought you were, like, what, 24? 25? Aren’t you in college?” 

“I don’t even have an age – wow, I’m so sorry, that is so bad.” 

He was so weird. So so weird. But you really liked that about him actually. He was sweet about everything and very kind and thoughtful, too. 

He clearly hated his drink but finished it anyway, probably out of courtesy. His face crumpled a bit every time he had to wash a dish that had a lot of food leftover. It was like he felt great sorrow for the chef – that their work wasn’t good enough for the customer, and they tried really hard, so that made him sad. 

Oddly enough, he put a $20 in the tip jar on the way out, shrugging when you asked him about it. He said sure, he didn’t like it, but that wasn’t anyone’s fault. He was grateful they ‘took good care of him’. He was just repeating what he’d heard other diner guests say when they tipped. He was so cute. 

You walked him home. He insisted on the other way around, but he was tipsy and didn’t really know what to do about it, hiccupping and catching his balance. He wasn’t frightened or anything, reassuring you he’d ‘seen this in the movies before’. You assumed he was referring to knowing what it’s like to be inebriated. Still, all this after only one drink, and a stereotypically girly one at that. 

“Thank you for walking me home and helping me with homework and letting me hang out with you today!” 

You smiled, nodding your head. 

“Sure, Ken. Do you work tomorrow?” 

He nodded excitedly, standing in a salute-like pose. 

“Sure do! I’m gonna wash the hell out of some dishes.” 

Cursing, although incredibly light for him, was something he told you he was learning to do since he was now ‘in the real world’. You didn't understand that, like most things about him, but you were excited to see him tomorrow nonetheless. 

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀⋆˚✿˖°⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

For more Kenpostings I’ve written, click here.

For part two, click here!

[avastrasposts]

The Pilot and his girl - ch 11

Now we're getting into the fun part! 😋 The metaphorical shit is about to hit the fan as Frankie and our reader get ready for their one year anniversary on September 26, 2013. I had a lot of "fun" writing this chapter and I hope you enjoy it even though I'm now taking a seriously hard left turn with this series, away from the fluffy little bubble I've wrapped us in. The warnings will contain spoilers so I've put them in a separate post and will update them as I go: Warnings

Word count: 6.2 k

Chapter 12

Chapter 1, if you want to catch up from the beginning

Taglist: @pimosworld @i-own-loki @casa-boiardi @littlenosoul @stormseyer @mxtokko  @javicstories

“Cariño! I’ve got to go now, come kiss me!” Frankie calls through the apartment as he pulls on his boots, hastily tying them up before he tugs on his jacket. “Carinooooooo!” he wails, “come kiss me goodbye, I can’t leave if you don’t kiss me!” 

You spit out the toothpaste and rush to rinse your mouth, before opening the bathroom door, looking over at your baby of a boyfriend who’s currently standing by the door, bag in hand, making puppy eyes at you. “Cariñoooooo!" he wails impatiently while you pad over to him on bare feet, shaking your head. 

“You’re such a baby, Francisco Morales,” you wrap your arms around his neck as he bends down and gives you a wet kiss on your lips before trailing more wet kisses down your throat. 

“I can’t leave if you don’t kiss me,” he gives you a fake pout as he stands up. “You’re sure you’re ok to pack everything up on your own? I’ll be back as soon as possible so we can just load into the truck and go.” 

“Yeah, it’s fine, I’ll do some laundry and pack the last of the food. Just ring me when you leave work and I’ll be ready to go when you’re back.” 

“Ok, hermosa, mi amor, my gorgeous cariño, happy anniversary, my love,” Frankie captures your chin between his thumb and fingers and you smile up at him as he gives you another long kiss. 

“Happy anniversary, Frankie, my love,” you mumble against his lips, giggling as he tries to push you up against the door, groping at your ass, “I thought you had to leave.” 

“I do, fuck, but I don’t want to,” Frankie sighs, and plants a final kiss on your mouth before he opens the door and heads out, “I’ll see you this afternoon, hermosa,” he smiles, “te amo.” 

“Love you too, Frankie.” 

You lock up behind him and continue to get ready. The plan is to head out of the city and up to Denny’s cabin as soon as Frankie’s back from work. You’re working from home today to save some time, you’ve set aside manuscripts to read and that’s best done from home anyway. 

Frankie had surprised you a couple of weeks ago by telling you he’d asked Denny if you two could borrow the cabin for your anniversary, have a little holiday together. Today was exactly one year since you met at The Outback Bar and it had been the best year of your life thanks to Frankie. A weekend escape, just the two of you at the cabin, sounded like the perfect way to celebrate. To make matters even better you’d closed on a house just a few days ago, all the paperwork signed, you didn’t even have the keys yet, but you’d still spent the past three days mentally decorating the whole place. Frankie had sent Lucía pictures of the house and her room and she’d been over the moon to see the pictures of the pool outside. Now you were planning on throwing your very first Thanksgiving dinner at your new house together with Frankie and Lucía. 

You allowed yourself to get lost in daydreams for a while as you finished your breakfast and cleared the kitchen, throwing a load of clothes in the washing machine. While it ran its cycle you sat down at your small home office and went over the manuscript. 

Frankie called you just after lunch with bad news. 

“I’m sorry, cariño, I think I’ll probably be later than I thought, things are fucking crazy today,” he sighed over the phone. “One of our choppers crashed, we can’t get hold of the pilot, I’m just fucking praying he’s ok, Denny’s on his way out there now.” You can hear him rub his hand over his face, rough against his scruffy beard, “And I’ve got to fly three doctors to different locations, apparently they’re swamped, all kinds of crazy shit happening, it’s like it’s a full moon night but it’s midday.” 

“It’s fine, Frankie, just fly safe, you’ll get here when you get here and if it’s too late we’ll drive up tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, but I wanted to be with you all weekend,” he huffs, “Fuck, I’ve got to go, Denny’s on the radio. Talk soon, cariño.” He hangs up before you have a chance to say goodbye. 

By the time seven pm rolls around you have everything packed up for the trip to the cabin, you’ve been checking your phone for Frankie’s phone call for the past hour. He hadn’t been exaggerating when he said things were crazy today, you’d gone down to the corner store for some snacks for the road and found it closed, shutters down even though it was only five pm, the streets empty. And on your way back to the apartment you’d seen a police car crash into a small car. You’d started running over to the crash to see if you could help but a police man had stumbled from the cruiser and yelled at you to get back inside, to stay away. Something in his voice had scared you and you’d turned back straight away, running back to your building and up the stairs. 

Once back in the apartment you’d locked the door and tried calling Frankie, but he didn’t pick up. That wasn’t unusual, he usually couldn’t answer when he was flying, if you really needed to get hold of him you’d call Denny and he’d patch you through on the radio. But you tried Denny too and there was no reply there either, not on his cell or the landline to the airfield. 

So now it’s seven pm and you’re getting antsy. There are an extraordinary amount of police sirens outside, the news are talking about riots in the streets downtown, but the footage makes it look more like a warzone and the local news cuts the broadcast when someone attacks the camera man. 

At nine you’re pacing the apartment, back and forth between the big window facing the street and the small window in the kitchen overlooking the parking lot. When your phone rings you jump, and relief floods your chest when you see that it’s Frankie. “Frankie, where are you? Did you see the news?” you ask when you pick up, but you’re interrupted by him straight away. 

“Cariño, where are you? Still at home?” He sounds stressed and he’s breathing hard. 

“Yeah, I’m at home, waiting for you, of course. What’s going on, are you running?” You press your phone to your ear, trying to hear what’s going on around him, you can hear people shouting in the background. 

“I was, I’m trying to get away from Washington Park, I…I got into some trouble,” he stutters, “some guy was beating up another guy and I pulled over to stop him, I had to pull him off the other guy but he was fucking crazy, like high on salts or something, never seen anything like it. He came after me and I had to…I’m sorry cariño, I had to…take him out.” 

You hear the shame in his voice, you’ve only talked a couple of times about the guy in the bar Frankie beat up because he thought he’d hit you. He knew his skill at violence scared you and he’d done his utmost to prove to you that he wasn’t a violent person. But now he’d had to take this guy out, in self defence, and he was trying to explain it to you. 

“Just get home, Frankie,” you say, “we can talk when you get here, just get home.” 

“I’m trying, hermosa, but the police turned up and…fuck…hang on.” 

You hear his heavy boots shuffling over broken glass and hard ground, he grunts as he seems to move through or over a structure, nearly dropping the phone. 

“Ok, I have to keep moving, hermosa,” he pants, “the police turned up and…they thought I’d killed the guy, the didn’t see him beating up the other guy an-” 

“You killed him!?” your eyes are wide, you’ve stopped dead in your tracks in front of the big window. 

“I don’t know, cariño, the police came, they pulled their guns on me, I had to run and-”

“Frankie, why the fuck did you run from the police? You’re gonna get into so much more trouble now!” 

“I couldn’t stay, something isn’t right, some weird shit is happening all over town.” 

“And fucking running from the police after beating someone to death is the way to make it less weird, Frankie?” you spit out, you’ve been worried about him for hours but now your nervous energy shifts into anger at his stupidity. “Just get the fuck home and we’ll deal with this mess in the morning, or just maybe just turn yourself in, it’s gonna look so bad with you running from the scene.” You sigh, pushing your fingers through your hair, “Frankie, why’d you have to be so reckless?”  

Frankie bristles, you can hear his anger, “You don’t understa-” he begins but suddenly your phone goes dead, cutting him off. You look down at the screen and curse, you have no reception, there are no bars, it looks like the service has overloaded or gone down.

“Fuck,” you say out loud, and turn it off, maybe a restart will help, but no luck. Your phone is still dead and when you try calling Frankie on your landline phone it goes straight to voicemail. You leave a message, telling him to just come home as soon as possible. 

After that there’s not much to do except wait, you resume your path between the kitchen window and the living room window, stopping every now and then to flick through the news, all hell seems to be breaking out across the state, even the country. You try calling Frankie a few more times but it still goes straight to voicemail. The knot in your stomach is growing, making you feel nauseous with nerves. 

You call Pope but there’s no reply so you call Will’s landline. Hannah picks up and she’s frantic with worry about Will, he’s not back from work and she can’t get hold of him either. Benny was meant to have dinner with them and he’s taken the car to try and go pick up Will at work but with the cell phone services down she can’t reach him either.  

“I don’t know what the fuck is going on,” she almost cries, “I saw people running down the street just now and I don’t know if I should leave or what?” 

“No, just stay put, Will or Benny will come back there so just lock up and wait,” you say, you can’t stop yourself from biting your nails, you feel panic rising in your throat.

You promise to keep in touch and update each other, when you hang up you feel sick to your stomach. You desperately want Frankie to come back, you need to see him and feel his arms around you, tell you it’ll be alright, but no matter how many times you call, you only get his voicemail. You ring a few extra times just to hear his voice repeat the same message. 

“Hi, this is Francisco Morales, I can’t pick up right now, please leave a message.” 

“Please, please, please, Frankie, come home, come home, baby,” you whisper into the phone as you listen to his voice again. 

Night has fallen outside and it’s even worse, around the city fires have broken out and from your apartment you can see a couple of them burn out of control. Just after midnight the news channel stops broadcasting, suddenly, in the middle of an update. You flick through the channels but there’s only static on all of them. 

You call Will’s place again but there’s no reply, you hope that means Benny has brought back Will to Hannah, and they can’t pick up right now, maybe they’re on their way here. 

Just as you’ve put the phone down it rings again and you snatch it up. 

“Frankie?” you almost cry down the receiver but instead you hear Pope’s worried voice. 

“Is Frankie there?” he asks, you can hear the stress in his voice. 

“No, he called at nine, he…he was in some trouble but I don’t know…he was on his way home, but he’s not here yet,” your words rush out, “Pope, what’s  happening? I can’t get hold of Will or Benny either and I’m freaking out!” 

“I don’t know, it’s a shit show, people are…listen, I’m not too far from you, I’ll try and make it over there. I’m on a military frequency so my phone’s still up, I’ll call you if anything. Just stay put inside, keep the door locked.”

“Yes, yeah, of course, I’m waiting for Frankie, I’m not going anywhere,” you say, double checking the lock and deadbolt on the front door. 

“Do you have a weapon, a gun, baseball bat, knife, anything?” he asks, you can hear him jogging, his shoes drumming along whatever hard surface he is on. 

“I don’t know, I don’t think we have a gun, we have a baseball bat, and the kitchen knives,” you frown, looking out the window again, “Pope, why do I need to arm myself, are people looting?” 

“Yeah, they’re looting and it’s getting violent, so stay inside, and don’t open to anyone except me or Frankie. And don’t talk to anyone but me or Frankie, ok?” 

“Ok, I’ll dig out the baseball bat straight away but…but just get here, please, Pope, I’m really scared.” You leave the window and go to the closet in the guest room where Frankie keeps his old bat. 

“I know, I know, I’ll get there as soon as I can.” 

“Hurry, please, and stay safe, Santi,” you say, you can feel tears gathering on your lashes as your voice starts to wobble. 

“I need you to be strong, ok,” Pope’s voice is firm, as if he’s giving a soldier orders, “I need you to handle yourself, if someone tries to come through that door, you need to defend yourself, do you understand? Even kill them if it comes to that, do not let anyone attack you.”

“Santi…” you stumble, “I can’t..”

“I know, but you have to. This is serious, Frankie’s not around so I need to make sure you’re safe, and for you to be safe, you need to be ruthless now, do you understand?” His voice has a sharp edge, he’s breathing hard, moving fast trying to get to you, and the reality of what he’s saying hits you. 

“I promise, Pope,” you whisper, “I’ll…I’ll try my best to defend myself, I’ll try.” 

“Good, I’m about an hour away on foot, but it’s slow going. Give me two to three hours and I should be there.” 

“Stay safe, Santi, please,” you beg, pressing the receiver of the phone to your ear, as if hearing the voice of your friend will keep him and you safe. 

“I’ll try my best, and stay strong for me, and for Frankie, ok?” 

“I will,” you promise. 

… 

When his phone dies, Frankie hears the click and then nothing. He had a feeling this would happen, it’s mayhem in the city and the system is bound to be overloaded, so the lack of reception is no surprise, but he still curses under his breath. 

He was moving down narrow back alleys, jogging fast, staying off the main streets, avoiding people, especially any police, as he tried to get away from Washington Park. When he’d put some distance between himself and the park, he’d stopped to call home. He’d crouched down just behind a dumpster, keeping out of sight, while he talked to her. Now he stands up carefully, looking up and down the alley and considers his next move. The keys to his truck are in his pocket, it’s still where he left it by the park, he could maybe try to get back to it but the police are sure to be there. 

But something, at the back of his head, tells him he needs to keep moving and get home as fast as possible. Things are not normal, the whole day has been a shit show, but now, now it’s getting out of control. The man he’d tried stopping beating up the other guy had been raging, he’d turned and attacked Frankie so fast he’d barely had time to react. Only his instincts from the army, slower now but still just under the surface, had saved him from getting bit, fucking bit! 

The guy had actually tried biting him when Frankie sidestepped, and tripped him up, making him fall to the ground. He’d been on his feet in a flash and Frankie knew the guy was high on something when he saw his eyes, so he’d sidestepped again and swung an elbow to the guy’s head, hitting him in the temple. It had been harder than he’d intended but the sudden attack had his adrenaline running high, and the man had dropped to the ground and remained motionless. 

As he started running, when the police pulled up, his only thought was to get away as fast as possible. But as he ran, as he put a couple of blocks between him and the park, he saw others starting to act strange. When a city bus crashed into a taxi he dodged into an alley, the passengers on the bus flailing about inside as if they were locked in battle with each other. Frankie’s gut was yelling at him that something was very wrong, this was not just a weird day, this was something else, but he couldn’t wrap his head around what was going on. So he’d stopped to call her, to hear her voice and make sure she was safe, and let her know he was trying to get home. 

The way the call ended, when the phone network died, left a knot in his stomach that had nothing to do with the unfolding mayhem in the city. This weekend was meant to be about them, he wanted everything to be perfect, and now the last words between them had been anger. The small box in his jacket pocket represented everything he wanted for their future, and more than anything he needed to get back to her, to explain what had happened and get them out of the city for their anniversary. Whatever the fuck was going with everyone else, he needed to be with her, at the cabin, and ask her to be his wife. Everything else was secondary. 

Frankie drew a deep breath and started moving back towards Washington Park. He needs his truck, it’s their best chance at getting out of the city. Hopefully the police had been called away on something else, letting paramedics deal with the guy he’d taken down, maybe he hadn’t actually killed him. 

He stays on side streets and alleys, keeping low, staying out of sight. When he sees the door to a gun shop wide open, he pauses, considering the risk. A gun would make him feel safer, but looting one now, is pretty shitty behaviour. The thought stays with him for only a second, before he cautiously moves into the shop. The back of the shop is dark but quiet, broken glass crunches under his boots as he moves towards one of the display cases. There’s rifles on the wall but they’re too hard to hide, instead he quickly finds a Glock among the wreckage, the familiar gun feels solid in his hand. 

There’s ammo behind the counter but when he steps around it, he sees the woman, splayed on the floor, face down. He stops in his tracks, staring down at her still form for a beat. She’s wearing a pink t-shirt and he can see the blood where it’s been ripped open over her shoulder. It doesn’t look like a significant amount of blood but he can’t see her face, can’t tell if she’s alive or not. 

There’s a box of ammo near him and he quickly loads the gun, sliding a full magazine into the Glock. He doesn’t know why, maybe the way the day has been, but he keeps his gun trained on the woman, safety off, while he carefully moves towards her. There’s more ammo behind her and he wants to pick it up, but he also doesn’t want to leave her injured or dead without checking on her. 

Gently he nudges the toe of his boot against her hand, shifting it slightly, and he hears a deep growl, inhuman. The sound makes him take a quick step back, more glass breaking under his feet with a loud crackle. The woman lifts her head and turns to look at him for a beat. All Frankie has time to think is that her eyes have the same rage as the man at the park, she scrambles to her feet and launches herself at him. He fires his gun on instinct, the bullet hitting her cheek, the close range making it explode out the back of her head. 

She drops instantly as Frankie holds the gun trained at her. It takes a split second for his training to kick in, but then he moves. Stepping over her, he grabs two more boxes of ammo, stuffing them in his pockets, before he quickly throws himself over the counter and heads out the back door he came through, checking the street before he leaves. Walking fast, but not running, he puts the safety back on the gun and shoves into the back of his trousers, out of sight under his jacket. His breathing is normal but he can feel adrenaline pumping through his system, muscle memory makes him move through the city as if it’s hostile enemy territory. 

What the fuck is going on? What was that? Bad batch of some drug on the streets? 

As he moves back towards the truck he checks his phone, there’s still no reception. There are more people on the streets now, more cars too, all heading for the freeway. He sees a family hastily throw bags into a car, a cat in a travel cage stuffed into the back. Other cars speed past, full of stuff, people are packing up and leaving. The sight makes him anxious, he needs to do the same, get back home, get to her, and get the fuck out. 

Screw the weekend, we need to get the fuck out of the city fast, whatever this is, it’s not gonna be over by Monday.

He finally spots his truck, parked where he left it, the man he’d knocked out nowhere in sight, and no police. Quickly scanning the area for signs of trouble, Frankie crosses the street and gets into the truck. He breathes a sigh of relief when he can lock the door and the engine rumbles to life. He can see traffic lining up on the other side of the park so he takes a side street, mapping the best route back home in his head as he tries to drive as fast as he can, people are running along the streets, cars speeding past and it gets worse the closer to downtown he gets. He tries to skirt around it but as he turns down a side street he finds it blocked by a truck that’s crashed into a building. 

“Fuck,” he breathes under his breath, there’s fire under the truck and he can see people on the other side. Quickly he reverses back onto the main street and turns left, heading a few more blocks down. The traffic’s getting heavy and it’s getting harder to avoid getting stuck, up ahead he sees cars grinding to a halt and in a last second decision he pulls a hard right and turns down a narrow alley, he knows it connects to another big road after a couple of blocks but it will get him closer to home at least, almost all the way there if it’s clear. He barrels through the alley, slowing down only to take the sharp turn onto the main road, and speeding up as he sees the way ahead of him clear. The harsh headlights flooding the cabin of his truck is the only warning he has when the bus slams into the passenger side of the truck. The screech of metal and tyres is the last thing Frankie hears as the world outside the shattered windscreen goes spinning and turns to black. 

…

Your body is telling you to sleep but you can’t, it’s almost three am and you’re on the couch, with a painful knot in your stomach. There’s sirens wailing outside, close by, and you’ve heard screams of terror and pain throughout the night. Frankie’s baseball bat is next to you on the couch, your hand shoots out to grab it whenever you hear a sound, your nerves on edge, the big kitchen knife on the coffee table. You’ve cried yourself dry with worry, Frankie’s not home, Pope hasn’t arrived either, you feel like you’re all alone in the world and every minute you’re fighting to keep the panic down. Pope’s words, keep strong for me and for Frankie, roll through your brain, it’s all you’ve got to keep you from falling over the edge. 

A loud crack rings out somewhere in your building and you shoot up to your feet, it sounded close and it sounded like a gunshot. Straining your ears you try to hear more, but the wailing sirens from outside make it hard to make out anything. Slowly moving closer to the front door, you grip the bat in your hand. You stop in the hall, holding your breath and listen intently in the silence. Suddenly you hear a shoe scuffle against the floor outside your door and you bite down hard on your lip, your heart is thumping so loudly it’s deafening. 

A soft tap on the door startles you enough to make you jump back into Frankie’s sneakers on the shoe rack. 

“It’s me, Pope, open the door,” Santi’s familiar voice filters low through the front door and you almost cry with relief, stumbling forward to unlock it. He comes through it as soon as it’s open enough to let him in and he immediately closes it behind him, locking and sliding the deadbolt in place. When he turns to you, you throw your arms around him, and you feel him grab hold of you, squeezing you tight as he pulls you into the living room. 

“Santi, I’m so scared,” you sob, fighting back tears, as he sets you down on the couch, “what’s happening?” 

“I don’t know yet, Frankie isn’t back?” he asks, looking around the living room. 

“N-No, I haven’t heard from him since the cell network went down,” tears well up in your eyes, “h-he said, he was coming back here. But that was six hours ago, Santi!” The tears spill over as fear overcomes you and he sits down next to you on the couch, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, gently shushing you. 

“Deep breaths, hermana, you need to focus,” he turns you around, putting both hands on your shoulders, squeezing them as his eyes lock onto yours. “Listen, I need you to stay with me now, ok?” 

You nod weakly as Pope wipes your cheek with the back of his hand, “We need to pack essentials and get out of here, there’s a couple of dirt bikes in the garage under your building, I’ve got the keys and-” 

“I’m not leaving without Frankie,” you say immediately, leaning back from Pope instinctively. “I have to stay here until he comes back.” 

“You can’t, it’s not safe, I have to keep you safe while Frankie’s not around,” Pope grabs your shoulders again, as if to press it into you but you baulk. 

“If I leave, with the phones down, he won’t find me. He said he was coming back here and I said I’d stay until he came back,” you pull away from Pope and stand up, moving to the window to look down on the street again. 

“Hermana, you haven’t seen the city, it’s chaos,” he’s stands up and comes after you, grabbing hold of your arm, “I don’t know what’s going on but people are unhinged, losing control and attacking each other,” his grip on your arm loosens a little but he’s turning you to look at him, “I don’t want to scare you more, but it’s bad out there, people are dying.” He falters, hesitating for a few seconds, “I’m sorry, this isn’t going away anytime soon, and Frankie might not make it back.” 

“Don’t say that. Don’t fucking say that!” You feel panic rising in your chest and you push him away.

“I saw a woman…she was…she killed a child, it’s that bad out there,” Santi grabs you again, a pained look on his face, pleading, “I’m sorry, Frankie is a very capable soldier, one of the best, but it took all I had to make it here.” 

You pull your arm from his hand, “He’s coming back here, I’m not leaving without him,” you spit out and step back into the living room, crossing your arms as you turn back to Pope, he’s looking at you from the window. 

“I can’t leave you here, Frankie’s my best friend, my brother, and you’re the love of his life, I’ve got to keep you safe. For him, hermana.” He’s pleading with you but you shake your head even as tears well up in your eyes again. 

“If you want to help Frankie, get to Lucía. Take one of the dirt bikes, get her and we’ll meet you at Denny’s cabin.” You’re staring at him, your jaw set, you know Pope can’t argue with that and he has no choice. As he drops his chin to his chest you know you’ve got your way. 

“Ok,” he sighs, “I’ll go and get Lucía, but you have to promise me that if Frankie’s not back by Sunday morning, you take the other bike and come up to the cabin too,” he’s walked over to you again, looking down at you with dark eyes, “if he’s not back by Sunday morning, he’s not coming back. Take the bike, get to the cabin.” 

“He’s coming back, Santi.” 

“I really want you to be right, hermana,” he sighs as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you to his chest. You slump against him, you can feel your body shaking with the onslaught of nerves and adrenaline. 

“He has to come back,” you whisper into his chest, “he has to, he has to, he has to,” you repeat as a mantra as Pope gently strokes your back. 

You don’t notice when Pope carefully lays you down in your bed, pulling the blanket over you. Your exhausted body and mind shuts down for a few hours and lets you sleep without dreams. When you wake with a start, daylight is starting to creep through your window, and for a second it feels like a normal morning, until you see Frankie’s side of the bed, empty. 

You push back the blanket and make your way out to the living room to find Santi on the couch, two guns and a rifle laid out in front of him. 

“Morning,” he says, looking up at you. “I hope you managed to sleep some.” 

You sit down next to him on the couch, watching his methodical movements with the weapons, “Did you sleep at all?” 

“No, I kept watch, but it’s fine,” he adds as he sees your concerned look, “I’m still running on adrenaline and I’m used to it. Pulled plenty of all nighters in the army.” 

“Did anything happen while I slept?” You move to the kitchen and open the fridge to pull out some breakfast, the inside of the fridge is dark. 

“The electricity and the military phone network cut out about an hour ago,” Pope nods at the fridge. “Eat whatever might go bad first.” He stands up and grabs a backpack, you recognise it as Frankie’s spare one. “I’ve packed enough to keep me going for a few days, and I’ve done the same for you and Frankie,” he points to a bigger backpack, Frankie’s hiking pack. “I’m gonna try to get to Lucía now, you and Frankie head to the cabin as soon as possible. Get out of the city, that’ll be Frankie’s plan too.”

He comes over to you where you’re standing by the kitchen counter, frozen in your movements. “Remember what I said last night, hermana, I’m sorry, but if he’s not back by Sunday morning…” he pauses and grabs hold of your hand, squeezing it tight, “if he’s not back, you have to leave by yourself and get to the cabin. Promise me,” his dark eyes are bearing into you as his fingers wrap around your own. 

“I promise, I’ll leave if he’s not back by Sunday morning,” you say, your voice barely over a whisper. 

“Ok,” he gives your hand another squeeze and goes back to Frankie’s backpack. “I’m leaving a gun with you, and some ammo, it’s in the pack,” he shows you the boxes in an outside pocket. “This is your gun,” he picks up one of the handguns on the coffee table, “it’s easy enough to handle, I’ll show you.”

“Where did you get them?” you ask, “did you just happen to have two guns and a rifle on you yesterday?” 

“No, I didn’t,” Santi looks at you, “I broke into a gunshop and took them.” He sees the way your eyes widen and holds up his hand, “Look out of the window, the world is falling apart, I don’t know what is happening, but looting three guns to protect myself and you, is the least of our worries right now.” He picks up the gun and motions you over and shows you how to hold it, “Grab it like this, both hands, keep it steady.” 

The gun is heavy and cold in your hands, “You really think the world is falling apart?” Your voice is quiet as you adjust your grip as Pope moves your fingers. 

“The first thing I heard yesterday was that something was going on in Indonesia, then Rotterdam. Here, put your thumb like this.” He moves your thumb to cross over your hand, “then there were news reports from all over the US. And if things are as bad there as they are here, then yeah, I think the world is falling apart.” 

He steps back and looks at your grip on the gun, “That’s it, hold it like that and squeeze the trigger when you’re ready.” 

You pull back on the trigger and the gun clicks. “So we get to the cabin and then what?” you ask, looking down the barrel of the gun, feeling the weight. 

“We hold down the fort, wait it out, until it’s under control again.” Pope gently takes the gun from your hands and shows you how to load it, making you go through the motions several times. When he decides you’ve got a hang of it, he takes the gun and gives it to you, “Safety on, keep it within easy reach. I should’ve gotten you a holster but stick it in the back of your pants for now, keep it on you at all times, ok?” 

“Ok,” you nod, doing as he says before looking up at him. “Do you think the others, Will and Benny, will come up to the cabin too?”

“If they can, yeah, it’s the most logical choice.” 

He turns and grabs the smaller backpack and his jacket, “I’m leaving, I’ll get to Lucía, get her and her mom, if I can, back to the cabin. Sunday morning, ok?” 

“Sunday morning I leave if he’s not back, yes, Santi.” You nod, your jaw tight. 

“Ok. And listen, when you do leave, with or without Frankie, don’t trust anyone. People are attacking without warning, like animals.” Pope’s eyes are on you, imploring you to understand, “Anyone moves towards you, shoot them, aim for the torso to bring them down, then head shot, to kill. I know it’s not going to be easy, but if you want to survive, you have to. Get to the cabin, I’ll be there.” He pulls you in for a big hug, squeezing you tight and you hold on to him for as long as you can before he pulls away. 

“Stay safe, Santi.” 

“You too, hermana.”  

You walk him to the front door and watch him as he listens through it for a couple a minute, the landing outside is silent. Carefully he opens the door, gun drawn, and peeks outside. Daylight is filtering through the windows, shining some light into the stairwell. With a final look at you he steps through the door and you close it behind him, locking it securely again. 

Walking back to the living room, you sit down on the couch. Twenty four hours until Sunday morning.

All you can do now is wait.

Chapter 12

[writingquestionsanswered]

Hi,

I'm an amateur novelist working on two books, and I'm close to finishing the first one. The problem is, I wrote it without dividing it into chapters. Could you kindly offer guidance on how to effectively divide my manuscript into chapters? Thank you for your time.

Have a lovely day - Annie💌💌

Dividing a Manuscript into Chapters

Chapters are made up of one to three scenes, so really what you're looking to do is find the scenes and group them together into chapters.

Scenes are like mini-stories that have their own central character, conflict or dilemma, and beginning/middle/end. A scene tends to take place within a relatively small interval of time, in a specific location. A scene ends when one of the following things happen:

-- the scene conflict is either resolved, leads to a setback, or creates a new question that the reader will want to have answered

-- the scene dilemma is resolved and leads to a decision (that must later be acted upon)

-- there is a big change in time (a few hours)

-- there is a big change in venue (biology class to gym class)

-- the POV character needs to change

So, the first thing you need to do is read through your story and break it up into its individual scenes using the information above. Once you have your scenes marked out, you can start grouping related scenes into chapters.

The scenes within a chapter should feel related in some way and will usually take place within related locations and a relatively short period of time.

Let's look at some theoretical scenes:

Scene 1 - Mindy is at the breakfast table with her family talking about her first day a t a new school.

Scene 2 - Mindy meets Jake on the bus and he agrees to be her tour guide for the day.

Scene 3 - Jake meets Mindy in the cafeteria at lunch and shows her around the school after they eat.

Scene 4 - the next afternoon, Mindy is in her backyard and has a video call with her sister where she talks about her new friend Jake.

Scene 5 - Mindy gets a text from Jake after her call with her sister, and is then asked by her parents to babysit her smaller siblings.

Now, to group these scenes into chapters...

Scene one is in Mindy's POV and takes place at her home the morning of her first day at school. Scene two, also from Mindy's POV, takes place on the bus on the way to school, so a little later that same morning. These two scenes are closely related because they share a POV character, both have to do with Mindy's first day at school, and since the bus takes her from home to school, it's not a significant change in location from home. So, scene one and two can be in one chapter together.

In scene three, we switch to Jake's POV, and we're now in the middle of the school day and focused not on preparing for Mindy's first day of school but actually living it. So, we know we're going to start a new chapter here.

With scene four, we're back in Mindy's POV and it's the next afternoon. Since we've jumped to a new POV, a new day, and a new location, we know we're going to start a new chapter.

Scene five takes place shortly after scene four and in the same location (home), so we can group scene four and five into one chapter.

I hope that makes sense!

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[gravessyard]

Let You Go

Notes from the crypt: Found this in my wip collection and decided to finish it, it kinda corresponds to an idea I had so I guess we can consider this a prequel to that idea. I'll be adding another chapter to this so look forward to that! Edit: Chapter 2 here

Tags: GN!Reader, angst, themes of betrayal and abandonment, Aether named as the traveler, terrible description of a fight lmao, hurt/comfort from an unlikely place

Summary: You stood too close to the pyro that was Diluc Ragnvindr and got burned, didn't they tell you that ice melts?

“I’ve got you… Aether”

You jolted upright in a cold sweat, heart pounding and pants escaping your lips while you took in your surroundings. The moonlight filtering through the curtain provided little light to the basic room you were provided, yet that did nothing to ease your nerves from the nightmare you just woke up from. Mind alight with activity, you can still see the look in Diluc’s eyes when he abandoned you, when he chose to save the traveler and left you to rot. Gritting your teeth in anger, you throw your pillow across the room with a frustrated scream that turned into sobs while you curled in on yourself, ignoring the door opening and the footsteps approaching you.

You waited years for him, and he didn’t even hesitate to leave you to die. You didn’t blame him, for as long as you knew him, Diluc Ragnvindr was always closed off about his emotions, rarely choosing to let his walls down around you. You first met him when he was a fresh Knight of Favonius, full of a fighting spirit that inspired you to try and join also. While he was off doing knights business, however, you were often stuck reading grimoires and practicing magic with your mother. You attained your vision rather early, around the same time Diluc did, and while you did want to join the Knights of Favonius, your mother had convinced you to begin your journey on spellcasting and witchcraft instead, a tradition that’s been passed down for generations in your family. It was a decision that wasn’t without its rewards however, as you were still asked to visit the Knights headquarters on behalf of your traveling mother to assist them in matters once you had become more comfortable with your craft. You’d been pleasantly surprised when you were teamed up with Diluc, it gave you the opportunity to break the ice and really get to know the young redhead, and sure enough a friendship soon blossomed. It almost became normal that you joined Diluc on escort missions or even helped him with stealth missions, you even saved his ass a few times when you both were ambushed. You two were unstoppable in the battlefield, with his fighting skills and your magic, Jean was pleased every time you two returned either unharmed or not seriously injured. Diluc opened up a little more to you, even introducing you to his brother and his father after inviting you to dinner at the winery. It was an experience you’d never forget, the echoes of laughter and playful banter still playing in the back of your memories, memories of simpler times. With time, you and Diluc became inseparable, it was rare to see him without you and vice versa, you two had made a spot in each other’s lives after all. You were often the one who would knock on Diluc’s door at the knights headquarters with goodies in your hands, convincing him to take a break from paperwork and just relax with you, but it also wasn’t uncommon that Diluc would seek you out in the library to drag you outside and get some actual sunlight because you’ve been in there since last night now come on so we can eat. Crepus gets a kick out of seeing you at the winery almost every day, your hand tightly encased in Diluc’s and he doesn’t miss the way his son’s eyes were avoiding his and a faint blush was blooming on his cheeks. Crepus had loved having you around, you were good company to him and his sons, and he would be a liar if he said he didn’t appreciate your magical help in the grape fields. Little by little you made an impact on Diluc’s life, and the line between friendship and romance was beginning to blur, it was only a matter of time before either of you began to wonder if it was normal for friends to look at each other as if they’re the only person in the world, with adoration in their eyes.

It was a revelation that came a little too late while you ran with Kaeya towards the broken carriage that was holding Crepus and Diluc. Just moments before you were sitting in Angel’s Share with the three men and the knights, a chorus of congratulations and good wishes to the redhead that was recently promoted to Cavalry Captain. You still wonder if you could have somehow helped saved the elder Ragnvindr if you had joined them on the journey back instead of sticking behind with Kaeya. That night was full of anguish and put a huge wedge in between your friendship with Diluc, as he had pushed you away too when you had only tried to help. Still, you waited for him, the years that he had spent away from the city of freedom you waited for him, using your studies as a distraction until he returned. You welcomed him with open arms and a wide smile, but you could still feel it, the wedge that’s still uncomfortably lodged. You ignore it however, resigning to start to chip away at his walls little by little again, you’ll wait as long as you needed to, for him. You still visited him at the winery, trying to catch up on the years you missed as well as helping tend to the grapes, you can’t help the momentary feeling of hurt when you used a magical trick to water the fields all at the same time, it was a trick that Crepus loved. You’d also visit him at the tavern on the days you knew he’d be working, sitting at the bar sipping on the latest concoction he’s come up and giving him your honest review. You were seriously thinking things were starting to look up, until a blonde traveler stepped foot in Mondstadt, and you ended up being expelled out of both the city of freedom and Diluc’s life. Aether was a sweetheart, his soul shined brighter than anyone you’ve ever seen, always ready to help those in need. His ambitions were clear, he wanted to find his sister no matter what the cost, and you respected that. Much like almost every person he’s met since arriving on Teyvat, you told him you were simply a call away if he required your assistance, and you thought that was that. You weren’t expecting Diluc to latch onto him so quick, nor were you expecting to see his walls crumble before the outlander but still stand strong before you. You learned to be observant when you picked up your family’s craft, sharp eyes were needed to pick up messages from unseen forces after all, so you didn’t miss the way Diluc acted much differently with Aether than he did with you, he acted the same way his younger self did when he was with you, all smiles and disguised compliments that made your stomach coil in jealousy. Your requests of apple cider turned into shots of liquor that made even Charles watch you with worry, a question he knows he shouldn’t ask at the tip of his tongue, yet you push aside those feelings and continue to wait until he’s ready.

Months after catching the attention of a certain wine tycoon, Aether had asked for your help with one of his commissions, it detailed that a magic user would be able to uncover hidden tracks that elemental sight could not perceive, and since Lisa was too busy to attend, you were the next best option. Your heart swelled with momentary pride of being relied on, but that flame was quickly extinguished when Diluc appears moments later, claymore sharpened and ready and a shocked expression matching yours.

“What are you doing here?”, there’s a hint of irritation in his voice that makes your brows furrow, a lump forming in your throat that you try desperately to swallow.

“Oh, I asked them to accompany us! Their magic could help us a lot”, Aether responds for you, still as cheerful as ever before he’s heading towards the city gates. Diluc looks you over with a blank expression and you don’t know whether to cry or return it with a dirty look before he’s catching up to the traveler, taking his place by his side. Defeated, you follow behind the two, blood boiling with a mix of emotions over what just happened and also being the third wheel, months of little to no contact and that’s the first thing Diluc says? You’re second guessing if you even wanted to join at that point, but since it was Aether asking for your help then you had to power through. Thankfully you could distract yourself by casting a simple spell to reveal these secret tracks to you, moving in front of them so you could better guide the men to where they could lead. You tried your best to ignore the whispering and giggling from behind, blinking away hot tears that threatened to obscure your vision, your already fragile heart shattering when you hear the unmistakable sound of a kiss followed by Aether giggling. By then you had reached a cliff overseeing a small beach on Stormbearer Point where the trail seemingly ends, and you realize that it was a set up. Turning sharply on your heel, you take the men by surprise when you used a burst of magic to separate them just as a pyro agent turned off his cloaking to swipe at the air where they once stood. He takes a second swipe at you just as you activated your vision to block it and within seconds, he’s become invisible again, prowling for an opening to strike. Eyes darting around, you count the heads of Diluc, Aether and the other two fatui skirmishers they’re currently in combat with, the mix of visions making it hard to see the outline of the invisible enemy, yet you feel frozen in place, hesitant on who’s side to rush to. Your hesitation didn’t go unnoticed as the pyro agent materialized by your side once again, closer than you could anticipate and your scream rips through the air when he slices your side open, the scent of blood invading your senses and making your head spin. You didn’t have a chance to think when you’re forced on the ground after a scorching blade slices along your back, the pain leaving you breathless and writhing. You can still hear the sounds of fighting in the air, lifting your head weakly you witness Diluc’s burst, the magnificent phoenix knocking the skirmishers he and Aether were fighting off their feet so he could rush to the blonde’s side.

“I’ve got you, Aether”, were the words you could barely make out coming from the man who was cradling the traveler so closely to him, and your breath hitches when his red eyes met with yours. His expression was unreadable, even as you use what little strength you have to reach out to him, the pieces of your heart only continue to shatter when he turns around and runs, leaving you helpless at the mercy of the Fatui. You spent years waiting for him, loving him for who he was and prepared to spend every waking moment of your life by his side, and this was how he repays you. He didn’t hesitate when you screamed his name, the hurt and sadness you feel morphing into anger as you screamed until your head felt light and you plopped it back on the ground to stare at the sky, waiting for either the Fatui to finish the job or blood loss to finally take you. You closed your eyes when the pyro agent entered your field of vision, praying to Celestia that wherever you go next may you live a better life before losing consciousness.

You jolted upright in a cold sweat, heart pounding and pants escaping your lips while you took in your surroundings. The moonlight filtering through the curtain provided little light to the basic room you were provided, yet that did nothing to ease your nerves from the nightmare you just woke up from. Mind alight with activity, you can still see the look in Diluc’s eyes when he abandoned you, leaving you to die in favor of Aether. Gritting your teeth in anger, you throw your pillow across the room with a frustrated scream that turned into sobs while curling in on yourself, ignoring the door opening and the footsteps approaching you. Your sobs die down to sniffles while a hand ran through your hair, another pair of hands working to gently undo the bandages on your torso, the pulling of the dressing making you hiss and lift your head from your knees to glance at the hydrogunner legionnaire that somehow gave you a sheepish look from behind his mask, using a little bit of hydro to ease the pain.

“Stay still, little lamb”, you hear the gruff voice of the pyro agent by your side, his fingers in your hair moving to wipe away the tears you’ve shed, almost in an apologetic way. It’s been days since you were taken by the Fatui, they were surprisingly more merciful than you gave them credit for, witnessing your abandonment and choosing to save you since a certain redhead refused to. You initially thought that they were going to use you as ransom, but the way they carefully replaced your bandages and made sure you had a hot meal made you think otherwise, the revelation that you may already be pronounced dead in Mondstadt making your shoulders shake, fresh tears stinging your eyes.  

“Hey, none of that… You’re safe now, the Tsaritsa always takes care of her own”, the legionnaire pipes up behind you while he applies fresh ointment on your back and replaces your bandages with fresh ones. The anemo vanguard stands awkwardly beside the legionnaire, large hands serving as the makeshift table for the tools used to help your wounds heal. Always takes care of her own, the statement echoes in your mind while the skirmishers finish up and leave to discard your bloodied bandages, leaving you with the agent that was adamantly wiping your tears away, hands cradling your cheeks.

“Whats going to happen to me?”, you whisper, tired eyes moving up to meet with his mask. He’s silent, head tilting slightly in contemplation before he removes his hands from your face, and you find yourself missing the warmth.

“The Tsaritsa gave you a gift, its time you reached your true potential, little lamb.”

Epitaph: This piece can also be found on AO3. I wanted to wait until the end to disclose that we do have a cryo vision lmao sorry for those who wanted to pop in their hcs of what vision they'd have, but its vital for where I plan on taking this story. The fatui characters will also be given names in the next chapter so I dont have to keep writing legionnaire and vanguard and such. Can I also just say how down bad I am for pyro agents??? I still haven't completed that one quest in Sumeru where you follow one shkdljd

[imfluentinfangirlandgay]

Casting Pearls Before Time - Ch 1

Hi, yall. I know, I know, it's been forever since I last posted fic, why the hell am I doing it again? I thought you were slain finally? I thought you'd collapsed on your laptop and someone put an end to your reign of terror? Unfortunately for you, no, I came back. Enjoy this piece I've had sitting in my drafts for easily over a year and never finished.

-Fluent

------

Six months after suddenly reappearing, Ingo encounters someone he thinks he remembers. Only problem is, he can't remember anything before he returned to Unova, so it's hard to say

Word Count: 2200

Emmet walked in-step with Ingo as they traversed the empty streets of Nimbasa. Their day bags were slung across their shoulders, gently bumping against their sides with every step they took. All was quiet. The dark sky sprawled above them. Emmet fully believed stars were up there, he had seen them himself, though with the light pollution from Nimbasa City, it was hard to see them now. A stiff breeze blew down the long street, whipping his white coat and trying to nab his hat off his head, pinching at his ears and making them sting. Autumn was well on its way to Unova. The Deerling he and his brother had fought earlier was molting its summer green fur to make way for the denser, coarser orange. 

Emmet glanced at his brother, still half-paranoid he would not be there. He was still right next to Emmet, his small, neatly trimmed beard and longer hair reflecting the streetlights. His eyes wandered from streetlamp to streetlamp, as though he were still enamored with electricity. He could be. Emmet did not know.

It had only been six months since his reappearance, that day ending the longest three years of Emmet's life. 

Emmet had scoffed in annoyance when Elesa barged into his home yet again, tugging by the arm insistently. It was not the first time she'd done this. "Emmet, you have to come with me. Now."

"Elesa, I am busy." It was not incorrect. He was working through some reports from that week that he'd fallen behind on. It used to be Ingo's job but since he was absent, the duty fell to Emmet. He sat at the wooden desk with his hat off, his hair long and unkempt, his ungloved right hand resting on his forehead, the fingers intertwining with his silver hair as his left scribbled out some nonsense on the notebook paper. A couple Joltik that had been sleeping by the eraser jumped and skittered away in surprise, leaving sparks in their wakes.

"Emmet, seriously. You're coming." She continued to tug on him, effectively pulling him to the ground. 

"Elesa," he snapped. "I am busy! I cannot get air right now-"

"Emmet. They found him." He stopped struggling immediately, staring blankly at her from the floor as she continued to speak. "He's in Sinnoh. They're flying him over here, I just got the call from Skyla. They're landing at her airport in two hours. He's coming home." 

He laid still for another few moments as the information sank in, his eyes wider than saucers. Then he stood so suddenly, he nearly knocked Elesa over. "I am Emmet. I am prepared. Let us depart immediately." For once, she didn't tease him for leaving his paperwork behind as she hurriedly led him out the door and away from the apartment. He was so shocked, he’d forgotten his hat and shoes.

He spent an hour fretting in the lobby. What if they were wrong? What if it wasn't him? Why was he in Sinnoh to begin with? Had he left? Was he sick? Elesa hadn’t mentioned anything about that, and surely she would if he were, right? She had not said a word since she had fetched him from his home. What if she didn’t mention it just to make him feel better and not worry? She wouldn’t. Would she? What if he hadn’t wanted to come home? What if-

What if it was his body? What if he was dead-

“Em, talk to me.” Elesa had shaken him from his thoughts. Without him even speaking, she read him like a book. “He’s safe, Em. Doctors checked him over and said he's a little malnourished, but fine.” She had assessed him before continuing, watching the runway with him. “They did mention one thing, though.” He felt white-hot adrenaline spike through him. This was it, this was where the other shoe dropped. “He… he has severe amnesia. He can hardly remember anything about Unova, his pokemon, or anything else from before he disappeared. And while he was gone, he doesn’t remember much from that, either. The doctors said to be careful with him and-”

“He’s got amnesia?” He had turned to look up at her and listen to her response-

“Emmet? Are your systems operational?” Emmet blinked a couple times and refocused himself, looking at his brother. They had stopped walking at some point and Ingo was watching him with concern. It seemed he had been trying to get Emmet’s attention. He seemed to do that quite often. 

“I am Emmet. I am alright. Destination: home.” He began to walk again as Ingo set his hand on Emmet’s shoulder. 

“Do you hear that?” Ingo was watching something just past Emmet, not quite focusing on him.

Emmet knit his brow, but heard nothing. “I have hearing loss, Ingo. I cannot hear well.” 

“Ah! My apologies.” Emmet had reminded Ingo of this fact many times before. He was still trying to remember many things about his life before Hisui, as well as his life while there. Emmet had never heard of a region called that before and neither had anyone else he’d talked to. Perhaps Ingo was mixing up a name he’d heard with the region? He had definitely been in Sinnoh. “I hear something like scuffling from over there.” Ingo nodded to the mouth of an empty alleyway. Emmet cocked his head, not able to hear anything. Ingo did have better hearing than him, though Emmet’s eyesight was better of the two of them. 

“Toss out a pokemon, just in case,” Emmet advised. Ingo did, tossing out the large Gliscor he had carried home from Hisui. Ingo approached the alley, his body taut and ready to spring. Emmet hung back, as it was obvious that Emmet was much less prepared to deal with this than Ingo was. 

Gliscor peeked into the alleyway first, screeching loudly after it saw something. It flew into the alley and a few small pokemon burst out. Trubbish. All were honking and gargling as they quickly took off, shuffling out of the alley and scattering into the night. Ingo plunged into the alley as soon as the last one left, leaving Emmet to scurry in after him. What was he doing?! Gliscor seemed to have it handled-

He saw a girl. She was wearing very little, only a pink and white dress with ostentatious tails and several bangles on her arm. A pink headpiece adorned her head. She was pressed against the wall, shaking horribly, her pale face almost ghostly in the low light. Her eyes were wide with fear. Gliscor was flitting around her, screeching in happiness. Her eyes followed the creature closely. She was hardly blinking. Did it know this girl? Emmet was unsure. 

She knitted her brow as Ingo came into view. She watched Emmet’s brother verrry carefully, confusion in her gaze. Ingo had stopped too, watching the woman. He cocked his head. 

“Hello. I… feel that I may recognize you. Might I ask your name, Miss?” Ingo’s voice was startlingly loud in the space around them. Emmet almost wanted to cover his own ears, though he knew his own reception of it was muted. 

She continued to stare at him for some time. Emmet wondered if she could talk. 

From her mouth tumbled a series of words that Emmet could not understand. She was still watching Ingo with wide eyes. Her body was beginning to shake like a leaf in the wind.

Emmet blanched. His mouth dropped open with Ingo’s response, in the same language she must have been speaking. 

The girl breathed out a sigh of relief and nodded. Then she said something else Emmet could not begin to comprehend. Ingo’s posture relaxed some as the two spoke. This continued for a minute or two before Emmet grew bored. He stepped forward and placed a hand on Ingo’s shoulder. The girl’s attention flicked to him, making her tense up again even as her eyebrows knitted together again. “Brother, who is this? Do you know her? She speaks the same way you did when you reappeared.” 

“Ah! Yes, I do believe I remember her… somehow. Not very well, mind you. She says she simply appeared here, she seems to have fallen. She hid in this alley because the cars and lights were confusing to her. I believe we met in my last terminal.” Ingo’s eyes flicked between Emmet and the woman. 

“What is her name?” Emmet asked him, tilting his head. Ingo met his eyes but said nothing for a moment. 

“She cannot remember.” He turned his attention back to the girl, who was looking between the two of them, her eyes wide. She spoke, asking a question, from the sound of it. Ingo responded in kind. 

“What are you two saying? I cannot understand.” Emmet grinned a little in confusion as he said this. This was not how he expected his night to go. 

“She is asking about you. I am explaining our relation, currently. I am concerned for her, though. I feel that she was rather close with me in my last terminal, but I cannot remember why…” He brought a hand to his chin as he thought. 

“Like a girlfriend?” 

“No!” His voice was louder than even he had intended, and the girl flinched. “You know that neither of us care for those kinds of connections! She is merely a friend… maybe even a close friend. Perhaps I will recall more as time goes on.” 

“Hmm.” Emmet simply hummed his affirmation, smirking at Ingo’s outburst. “What is she going to do?” he asked. 

Ingo shook his head. “I fear for her. It is clear she has nowhere to go. Perhaps… would it be alright if-”

“Yes. She can stay.” Emmet did not need to hear the rest of the question in order to understand what he was about to ask. Ingo relayed the information to the woman, whose posture began to relax slightly again. She said something in return. Ingo nodded and beckoned, whistling to Gliscor. It was still sticking close to the woman, though she did not seem to share the sentiment it had. She recoiled from it. 

The girl followed the twins home, glancing feverishly at the buildings and the pokemon around. Thankfully, not many people were out anymore. It did not take long for the three of them to find their way to the twins’ apartment. Ingo led them inside as Emmet unlocked the door, swinging it open. Several Joltik met them at the door, sparking and buzzing in excitement. Emmet smiled brightly as he scooped them up. “Did you wait for us? Oh, look at you, guarding the house while we are gone! Come on, babies, I’ll feed you. I know you lot are hungry- Marvin, stop trying to get to the sockets! I told you no!” He scooped up all the Joltik he came across, sweeping them into the kitchen so that he could feed them properly. After he was finished and the spiders were all happily munching, Emmet went back to the main room to remove his uniform. Ingo already had. 

“Emmet, take your shoes off.”

“My babies needed nourishment.” 

“It is nearly time for this batch to go be released anyway-”

“Do not ruin this for me, Ingo.” Emmet grinned as he shrugged off his coat and neatly hung it up in the closet. Ingo rolled his eyes as he retreated to their bedroom, likely to change and prep things for their guest. 

Speaking of which, she stood by the door, watching him intently. Emmet waved at her, still smiling. He might as well try to be cordial, he figured. “I am Emmet.” He pointed at himself. “Emmet.” 

She tilted her head slightly. “Em-met?” 

Emmet nodded vigorously. “Emmet! I am Emmet!” Then he pointed at her. “You?” 

She shrugged her shoulders, casting her eyes down at the ground. Emmet noticed that her cuffs were adorned with light-colored stones, all cut perfectly circular. “Emmet?” Ingo emerged, his hair mussed from his hat, hauling a blanket. “We have no guest room, so I believe we may have to make do with the couch.” 

“That sounds doable. If she does not remember her name, how should we address her?” 

“Allow me to ask.” He turned and translated the question. She paused, not speaking, picking at her cuffs in embarrassment. 

“What if we called her Pearl? She seems fond of them.” Emmet pointed at the stones in her cuffs and necklace, making her flinch. Ingo asked her a question again in the strange tongue, which she replied to eagerly. 

“She likes that notion. She says that the word holds some sort of importance for her, though she cannot remember what it is. Regardless, it will suffice for now.” Ingo clapped twice. “Bravo! Now, Emmet, if you would like to shower first, I can show Pearl around a bit. Perhaps make sure our partners do not get too close. She seems rather frightened of pokemon.” 

Emmet nodded and strolled from the room, grabbing a towel and a change of clothes as he marched into the bathroom. Afraid of pokemon? How unfortunate. What an odd night it had been, he marveled to himself.

[Next]

[lisalay00]

Secret Crush 4- Billy Hargrove

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Saturday night turned into a disaster with the physics test I was pretty in trouble because I hate physics. I was surrounded by perplexed problems when someone knocked on my window. It got me from my world, causing me to jump out my bed with that sound. A smile formed on my face unconsciously as I saw the silhouette. It must be Billy, I needed a distraction from these calculations.

I ran to the window and pushed it up in the darkness, I was working on the candle light it was kind of a habit I know it’s hilarious. But unexpectedly, a pretty shape of hair went into my view even if the darkness, I could recognize him, it was none other than Steve.

The essence of His hair spray was fencing to my room made felt an alluring feeling in my stomach. he lost his balance and bounced off back I jumped forward to hold his elbow. I was completely hypnotized by the situation. He jumped inside and patted his clothes. I could see the smile on his face even in the darkness.

I walked to switch, when the room lighten he squinted his eyes. ‘How are you doing?’ he placed himself on my bed. He grabbed one of the notebooks. ‘You have an exam or something?’ He knows I hate Physics. I rolled my eyes and sighed.

‘Yes, unfortunately…’ He chuckled and read one of the questions aloud. ‘30 degrees opened door's torque…’ I cut him off. ‘Please, Steve I exhausted enough!’ I hummed and sat beside him he extend the notebook to me.

‘I used to hate biology so don’t be upset you can’t pass!’ He was quite a supportive friend but not in a positive way. I rolled my eyes and put my hand up. During the five hours, I was reading the same sentences and doing the same problem so I’d already known it. I was going to screw this up.

‘I know Steve, thanks for your help.’ I hummed as I felt his hand on my shoulder causing me to turn to his warm smiling face. Suddenly I remembered our first meeting at Frenkie It'd been a week since.

‘What about Nance?’ I mumbled I hesitate to ask, he sighed and smiled vaguely. They'd moved to California together after Jonathan and Nancy broke up. That meant they got back together again, sometimes we would small conversations with Jonathan however he was bad at sharing feelings as I’ve known him for years he was not kind of an open person.

‘I’ve worked here in a while until Nancy’s school finished and here we are.’ He didn’t look at me. But there was another girl with him that day I decided not to ask who. He stood up suddenly; he’d caught me off guard with his sudden moves. I turned my shocked gaze to his tall figure, he opened his arms two sides.

‘Seems like you exhausted, what about night walk?’ I looked at the rapid change in his mood. He was looking at me flashing eyes and waiting for my answer hopefully. I couldn’t say no so I sighed and nodded. He literally jumped and held my hand and tried to drag me to the window.

‘Steve we could go from the door, no one home!’ I grinned at him are you a serious look… ‘So, why did I climb the damn tree?’ He ran his fingers through his hair letting the pleasant smell has remembered its presence.

‘You didn’t ask and how do I know you'd come here this hour?’ I folded my arms to imitate his infamous stance. ‘Stop you are annoying.’ He mumbled as I laughed and opened my door.

We were at the end of May so nature had started to show itself a slowly little bit. We were walking along the street-lighted empty road. He stopped and turned to the light that had trouble even to brighten even himself.

‘What do you think about me?’ He leaned his back to the light. My eyebrow turned to the bow shape by his question. Seriously what kind of question was that? ‘What am I supposed to think about you, Steve?’

He shook his head and walked to me, I had to raise my head to face him. He grabbed my shoulder and came closer, I hold my breath and tried to step back but his hands tighten on my shoulder.

‘What do you think about me as a man?’ he mumbled I blinked my eyes nervously; he’d quite changed in two years' distance. Still, I wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad way. The only thing I know They were not good for each other.

'Steve, I… umm…' My words were interrupted by the light. Its faded brightness increased and reached its peak by blinking. I flinched at the loud sound of the bulbs exploding. And the street left in darkness. I found myself hugging Steve’s chest in fear. He leisurely caressed my back. ‘God what was that!’ Steve uttered in concern was obvious in his tone. After waiting a moment, we decided to go back to my house. luckily it was a clear night. Moonlight was brighten the street.

‘There we are, what a night!’ He cheered when we reached my house. Before opening the door I turned to him. ‘Wait here.’ I rushed inside and came back with a flashlight. ‘It could be useful.’ I smiled and left it in his hand; he held my hand with the flashlight and pulled me to himself. I screamed I let out a low cry of sudden shock. His arms wrapped around me, and his light chuckle made me Goosebumps under my skin. Before he stepped back he leaned my ear and whispered.

‘See you soon study hard for physics.’ I watched his disappearance into the darkness I realized that my mouth hanging open. I shook my head ashamed and got inside. I checked the lights in the living room, they were working well. It must be a sort of technical problem. I sighed and climbed into my room reluctantly. I have to get back to physics.

When I stepped inside my room I noticed someone was sitting in front of the window that I had left open, in the darkness. I bounced off and scream out loud, I was horrified! He grabbed my elbow swiftly before hitting the switch. My lips parted at his highly wounded face completed by his bruised left eye and the split corner of his lips. 'What happened to you Billy?' unconsciously, I covered my mouth with my hands. He passed my question, took off his jacket, and jumped among my physics books. He threw them aside in my room. I was watching him in shock whilst the books met on the ground. When he finally found the right spot for himself, he created a room for me and pat on it. ‘Don’t forget to turn the light!’

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

[lilbitofmac]

Any (sfw) ironstrange fic refs?

Sorry for the late response on this— my memory is always pretty spotty, so I have trouble recalling good fics to recommend!

I’ll give you a top ten request, how about that? These are all AO3 fics!

End of Infinity by FriendlyNeighborhoodFangirls — I feel like if you’re a big shipper of ironstrange, you’ve gotta check out this absolute masterpiece of a fic!! It’s a suuuper slowburn, clocking in at 291+ chapters and still ongoing. Normally, I don’t read fics that aren’t finished, but trust me this one had me sobbing for days. Check out their other works, as well!!

The Blood in Your Veins by Aelaer — Wowowow, this fic absolutely shook me to my core. If you’re okay with some heavy angst, I would 10000% recommend this. Aelaer’s writing is so engaging and the care and understanding they have of Stephen and Tony’s perspectives and motivations are *chef’s kiss* Also, any fic that can actually make me care about the original characters within it? Automatically raises my respect for them.

The Sorcerer of Ephemeral Colors by Imagined — I LOVE FANTASY AUs FOR THIS SHIP!!!! Mage Stephen and Prince Tony go together so fucking well, I could go absolutely insane UGGHH!! This is another big boy fic, but the progression and story-telling, as well as the world-building are done so well!! If you like Fantasy AUs, you’ll love this fic!

(Sober) Companion by funkylittleidiot — It’s been a minute since I read this one, but I was thinking about picking it up again! Another AU fic, this time No Powers with the twist of Stephen helping people recover from their addictions! I wasn’t so sure about the premise at first, but honestly I loved how the author handled the subject matter from what I can remember. Heavy on the Tony angst. I really just love fics where Stephen takes care of Tony =w=;; I think this one is sfw? I really need to reread it 😅

The One to Bet On by airas_story — UGHHHH I LOVE THEIR WORK SO MUCH!!!! This is another fic that’s still ongoing! I am absolutely a SUCKER for time traveler Tony. It is so interesting to see what he does in the past to fix the future, and so far I’m really enjoying where they’re taking the story! Check out their other fics, as well, if you enjoy this one!!

Embers by surveycorpsjean — Idk man this is just a soft fic with these two 🥺💕 Steve and the other Avengers do make an appearance; there’s no character bashing or anything like that, but they don’t take up too much time in the fic! Stephen is just so smitten in this, and I absolutely adore it. Also another author you should check out their other works!

A witch’s cat by harpywrites — TONY GETS STEPHEN A CAT, AND ITS THE CUTEST THING EVER UGGHHH!!! Such a soft, feel-good fic, I absolutely love how Harpy writes Tony here. Seriously, if you just want a quick fic to make you smile, this is the one for you. If you want some heavy Stephen angst, though, check out the rest of Harpy’s works!! She loves to torture the poor sorcerer 💀

dream a little dream of me by DarkKitty1208 — You asked for sfw fics, so I’m not sure how deep angst can get before you call it quits? But if you’re cool with it, I highly recommend this one. Heavy Stephen angst with Tony helping him through his struggles; the imagery in this fic is stunning!!! Kitty has a very good understanding of Stephen and his struggles, so it’s super engaging to see this man trying and failing to cope with his demons! If you want more Stephen angst, check out Kitty’s LIBRARY of fics. Stephen never catches a break istg.

The Affection Thief by airas_story — I’m cheating by including them again on this list, but mostly it’s because I’ve run out of sfw fics 😅 THIS ONE IS SO DAMN CUTE!!!! Stephen gets turned into a cat and shenanigans ensue!! It’s such a simple concept, but the way my heart melted at how they wrote Stephen in this *sobs*

Annnd I’ll cheat for the final one, too.

Prophets in the Graveyard by FriendlyNeighborhoodFangirls — Another Fantasy AU fic because god I can’t get enough of them!!! This time with a murder mystery twist ohohoho! Another long boy with a slowburn because I love to torture myself in the best of ways. Again, this author just handles world-building, pacing, and characterization so so so fucking beautifully in their works. If you haven’t read from them, I beg of you to check out their fics!!

(Honorable Mention: you should absolutely also check out atypicalsnowman’s collection of works. I particularly love their “whatever souls are made of” fic, but it does have eventual smut!! Just seeing how Stephen and Tony would navigate a situation where they use a soul bond to defeat Thanos is ugghh so good.)

[skwistokgetalongshirt]

PUTTING THIS UNDER A READ MORE BECAUSE I'M JUST SHY ABOUT THIS...

Anyway, I also made a day 1 of Winter WonderKlok that includes my OC Missy and her guys. I plan on writing more about them and of course more in depth things BUT FOR NOW some silly Winter WonderKlok fun things.

This was Missy’s first time experiencing snow and she was pretty sure she was severely under prepared for this. Despite dressing in layers  as Skwisgaar had suggested, it definitely wasn’t enough. Her legs felt frozen, and despite moving forward through the snow she was worried her body would freeze at any moment.  It must’ve been noticeable since Toki ended up heading over and scooped Missy up to carry her.

“Pff… Shows off.” Skwisgaar mumbled under his breath.

“Th-thank… Y-you…” Missy managed to say, now burying her face against Toki’s chest desperate for his warmth.

“Welcomes. Cant’s believes you ammnst never been in snows befores!” Toki exclaimed, still holding Missy close to him. He could feel how much she was shivering even still. “Do you wants to go backs inside?” He sounded concerned - he didn’t want Missy to get sick.

“N-no… No, I’m okay.” Missy said. Yeah, she was freezing but she also didn’t want to miss out on the chance to make her first snowman!

“Okays… So…” Skwisgaar began to say when they finally got to a good spot with enough snow. “You gots to move the snows close togethers to bunch up enough snow to makes this.”

Missy was still clinging tightly to Toki but she looked over to watch Skwisgaar’s demonstration. 

Skwisgaar seemed to be struggling with bundling up the snow together, so Toki used this opportunity to gently set Missy down to go over to help Skwisgaar. 

“Skwisgaar you gots to do it likes this…” Toki seemed to be able to bundle up snow far more quickly and rolled it together much faster than Skwisgaar.  “You ams taking too longs, Missy ams goings to freeze.”

“Fines. Then you finish it and I’ll keep her warms…” Skwisgaar released the snow he was holding and went over to hold Missy instead. Since Skwisgaar was touching the snow, she felt the remnants of snow that had been on his jacket and when he hugged her she swore she could feel the coldness making its way through her layers.

“It’s way too cold for me out here. Maybe… I could just wait inside and I’ll come back when you two are done?” Missy suggested, she seriously felt like her toes were starting to freeze, unless they were frozen already.

“No Missy! You gots to builds it with us!” Toki exclaimed, he went over to bring her close to him again in an attempt to keep her warm. “We’ll be fast… Promise. Wants you to experience snowman’s building.”

“Okay, okay…” Missy was still a little reluctant, but she also didn’t want to disappoint Toki. She could tell Skwisgaar didn’t mind if they ended up ditching the whole ‘snowman building idea’. 

“Comes on Skwisgaar, lets hurries so Missy doesn’t freeze.” Toki got back to bunching up more snow. 

“What do you thinks I ams doing?” Skwisgaar was still having a hard time bunching enough snow to roll into a good size. It had been such a long time since he did this. 

— 

“Theres! See!” Toki exclaimed happily now showing Missy their snowman. Well, so far it was just three snowballs stacked on top of each other. 

“Now we just needs decorations…” Skwisgaar looked at the snowman. He wasn’t sure what to add to this. 

“Don’t they usually use um… Sticks and carrots and… coal or something?” Missy asked, she had only seen what they looked like on TV. 

“Yeahs, if you wants a BORINGS snowmans… Gots to be more creatives.” Toki reached into his pocket. “I gots some crayons… Uhh gonna use them as horns. Skwisgaar what do you haves?”

Skwisgaar reached into his pocket, he had some pills in his pocket which he didn’t even remember what they were… Maybe something Pickles wanted him to take when they were drunk? He thinks one was a vitamin and maybe a pain killer… Who knows what other pills were. “Coulds use these for somethinks maybe?”

Missy’s smile seemed to fade… just what kind of snowman would this be anyway? She made eye contact with Toki and knew this meant her turn was next. She reached into her pocket, she had a guitar pick in there. “I just have this.”

“Okays, goods! Comes here Missy…You cans puts the decorations up!” Toki sounded so excited to let her do this.

“Okay.” Missy nodded and stepped forward. Poor snowman… doesn’t even have arms. Maybe she’d find some sticks for it later. She took Toki’s crayons first and stuck them on either side of its head to make the horns that Toki requested. Next, the various…pills that were in Skwisgaar’s pocket. She decided to make eyes for him, and the guitar pick of course ended up being the nose. 

“Wowie! Your first snowmans!” Toki clapped his hands together excitedly.

“Snowsman… mores like sadmans…” Skwisgaar chuckled a bit to himself, seemingly proud of the joke he just made.

Toki didn’t find it funny though, he just frowned.

“It’s still very…incomplete.” Missy said as she stepped back to take a look at it from afar. No arms, no hat, no smile… She almost felt bad for it.

“Don’t worries Missy! We cans get more things and makes it better! Wants to make sures you have a goods time… Wants to make sures your first snowmans ams the best one!” Toki exclaimed.

Missy couldn’t help but smile a little at that, although Skwisgaar just stood crossing his arms to his chest. Stupid Toki and this snowman idea… if they picked what he wanted to do they’d probably do something better in the snow like maybe ice skating or sledding. 

“Thank you Toki! Let’s go get some more stuff for the snowman… and I think I need more layers too. I’m freezing…” This time Missy huddled up to Skwisgaar, she could tell he was feeling a bit grumpier than usual since Toki seemed to be more into this idea than he was. At least having Missy huddled up to him like that made Skwisgaar smile ever so slightly knowing she was closer to him now. 

“Yeah, alrights! Let’s go backs inside, gets you warmed up, and then we’ll finish this!” Toki eagerly wedged himself inbetween Missy and Skwisgaar putting his arms around both of them as he led them back inside. 

[wrongcaitlyn]

thoughts on i can fix him (no really i can)

sorry this isn’t abt the fic i have no more questions but your responses are so great 😭

DONT APOLOGIZE AT ALL I LOVE LOVE LOVE TALKING ABOUT TAYLOR SWIFT like i honestly get worried that i talk about her too much a lot bc irl im always told i need to know how to have conversations about things OTHER than her so like knowing that y'all wanna know my opinions on these things is actually the coolest thing ever and i love it <333

first of all, i LOVE the vibes of it. i choose to try not to think about the source material of these things (i've never been the hugest fans of connecting songs to the actual artist who wrote them, idk it just feels invasive) so the entire time i was thinking abt lucy gray baird/coriolanus bc of a post that rachel zegler made months ago for tom blyth's bday with a tee-shirt that said "I can fix him" like idk i just KNEW the song was gonna be snowbaird coded AND I WAS CORRECT

the vibes seemed so cowboy like me like i was genuinely surprised?? the whole thing seemed like it was very taken out of modern society, and like, fugitive au, and i was recently just reading this 1870s small town au (had just finished it like the day before ttpd i think) and so i was SO HERE FOR THAT KIND OF VIBE

overall i just loveeeed the imagery in these lyrics. it's one of those songs where the production just matches the content so well and taylor is truly incredible at that!!

one of my FAVORITE lyrics (most def my fav of the song, possibly one of my favorites of the album was

They shake their heads sayin', "God, help her" When I tell 'em he's my man But your good Lord doesn't need to lift a finger

idk why but the way she said it, the lyrics, the "good lord doesnt need to lift a finger" like GOD it just scratched an itch in my brain so perfectly (the entire album, i felt like she was singing it perfectly, there were so many little moments where i was just like GOD THIS WAS SUNG EXACTLY AS IT NEEDED TO BE SUNG)

just reread the lyrics for this bc i wanna make a worthy response (if y'all EVER want an opinion on ANY taylor swift song or any other artist i've mentioned before like PLEASE feel free lyrical analysis is my entire life)

and like

i seriously have to stop with au ideas

bc just the mention of texas has me thinking OMG FUGITIVE NICO X COWBOY WILL SOLACE AU and im like STFU BRAIN YOU ALREADY HAVE TOO MUCH YOU'RE WORKING ON but like i mean its TEXAS

The dopamine races through his brain On a six-lane Texas highway His hand so calloused from his pistol Softly traces hearts on my face

and the way it just ends so suddenly with "woah maybe i can't" is just😭😭i cackled at that it was hilarious

conclusion: i haven't really re-listened to it bc it wasn't one of those songs that stood out to me in the first listen (i've been listening to the album on loop since it came out bc im still trying to process all the songs, but there were definitely some that i repeated over and over again bc they were my favorite). i don't really like ratings because i feel like every song has so much potential, and i just haven't understood it yet? like, particularly with taylor songs, i actually didn't like the folklore or evermore albums when i first listened to them. then when i did again, they become two of my favorite albums holding some of my favorite songs. so all i can say right now is that it isn't one of my favorites off the album, but i do love certain aspects of it!

[someinstant]

I was tagged by @bright-thorn in a quick get-to-know-you game, and what the heck. I've got time before a meeting, so let's do this!

Tag nine (9) people you'd like to know better!

Last song: "Doo Wop (That Thing)," Ms. Lauryn Hill. Today was our first day back in the classroom for pre-planning, and I have a million things I need to do before I have kiddos in front of me on August 1st. And because one of the things I have to do is check transcripts for all of my rosters-- gotta make sure that my seniors aren't missing any graduation requirements, gotta keep an eye out for ELL and 504 and IEP and gifted services, gotta check that no new transfers have duplicate credits, or aren't placed correctly-- I was working my way through a lot of old favorites today as background music. Stuff that would keep me awake and focused so I wouldn't miss anything critical-- and that I knew well enough for it to not be distracting. So The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill fit the bill and was my last selection of the day.

Currently reading: Oh, like four different things. The City of Brass, by S.A. Chakraborty, which I started reading ages ago and then got distracted by life, so I've started over. A Memory Called Empire, by Arkady Martine, which I started reading during the early summer of 2020 and absolutely adored-- and then both my parents needed major surgeries within the same week, and a week later my gallbladder gave out on me-- and in the chaos and haze of am-I-dying-or-is-my-gallbladder-infected, I couldn't concentrate on it. So I've started it again as well, and it's so brilliant. I love it. But it does take me immediately back to that godawful summer in a very visceral way, which makes me somewhat uncomfortable. A couple of historical murder mysteries. And I've just started The Anarchy by William Dalrymple, which is about the role of the British East India company in South Asia.

Currently watching: Literally? I've got the replay of Stage 3 of the Tour de France Femmes on right now because I couldn't watch it live. (Stupid having to work for a living.) In the greater sense, I've just finished watching The Law According to Lidia Poet on Netflix, which hits all sorts of buttons for me, because I do love a good period mystery show-- especially if it's not set in the UK. Plus the costuming is fabulous. I'm two episodes into the second season of Shadow & Bone, but-- eh, I dunno. I really am only interested in one or two of the storylines, so I'm not sure I'm going to finish it.

Current obsession: I am so sorry to everyone who has suddenly been thrown into my rabid cycling fandom, especially if you started following me for, like, Andor stuff or whatever. I'll be somewhat normal again soon, I promise, and will only occasionally reblog GIFsets of Wout van Aert doing Wout van Aert-ish things until it's time for the Vuelta. What you have to understand is that this is not a new thing for me: I've been following men's pro cycling in the form of the Tour de France since I was... twelve? Thirteen? That's when I got seriously into long-distance cycling for a while, there. And while I'm nowhere near as fit as I used to be and the week-long cycling journeys my dad and I used to do are now well out of my reach, I still watch cycling obsessively. It used to be just the Tour de France, and then I started following riders and related folks on various social media platforms, and then started listening to podcasts, and then I started watching the other Grand Tours, and the past several years I've also gotten sucked into watching the spring Classics, and now I've also fallen down the rabbit hole of women's pro cycling, too. And as an obsession it is at its most all-consuming every year during July, which is when the Tour is on-- and I live blog the whole thing. (Not on this platform, although I've considered it.) Like, I do detailed narrative stage-by-stage write ups. The document for this year's total recap wound up being 46k words long, so. Yeah. Definitely an obsession, and it's one that everyone around me just has to kind of learn to live with during the summer every year.

And if you would like to answer these questions yourself, please consider yourself tagged! I love learning things about folks.

[elvish-sky]

A Queen in Body, Mind, and Spirit Part 2

A.N: Guess who did the writing? Me! So sorry this took an unimaginable amount of time but here you are! Hope it's worth the ridiculously long wait (seriously tho if I was a reader of my own writing and had to wait this long I would have murdered myself thu my screen y'all are angels).

Word Count: 1,574

Chapter 2/2.

Read on Ao3 or Wattpad!

*****

At the banquet, it was all you could do to sit there without fidgeting. People kept coming up to the high table to congratulate you, and you were so nervous all you did was smile and nod. It took Legolas coming up and wishing you well before leaning down to whisper something to Aragorn and pinching your arm at the same time to make you remember you knew how to speak.

Aragorn, thankfully, seemed equally nervous. He’d clearly thought more about this hairbrained scheme in the time since proposing it to you, and that thinking hadn’t done his confidence in it any good. But he was the one who’d gotten the two of you into this mess in the first place, so he had to deal with it. 

“You know…” you said, leaning over to Aragorn, “I’ve been thinking we should do some sort of performance. Or an announcement. Something to make this seem extra official.”

He looked at you like you’d sprouted a second head.

“You want to do something to draw even more attention to us? Why?”

You shrugged. “It seems like something we should do? But honestly, my ass is starting to hurt from sitting down for so long.”

He snorted, and quickly tried and failed to conceal it with a not-so-elegant cough.

“Fine. Let’s dance,” Aragorn said, before rising and offering you his arm. 

“I had something a little more along the lines of sneaking out of the banquet and going to sleep in mind, but I guess dancing works too?” 

You grabbed his proffered arm, letting him help you down the steps from the raised dais where you’d eaten onto the dance floor. As you walked to the center, you saw Legolas rise and tap his spoon against his goblet. 

“The king and his betrothed would like to dance!” Legolas declared. 

With that, every eye in the room that wasn’t already on you—which was admittedly few— looked at you. And you stood in the center of the room, alone except for Aragorn, waiting for the band to start playing.

The band began, strings of notes floating down to your ears as Aragorn placed one hand on your waist and clasped your own in his other. Your other hand rested on his shoulder, careful not to crush his cape. You began to move together, stepping slowly until your feet started to remember the pattern and you picked up speed. You spun around each other, all the other dancers on the floor falling back to simply watch the two of you move in complete harmony. 

Aragorn whirled you around the dance floor, spinning you out with arms always there to bring you back to him. Neither of you really knew what specific dance you were doing, you just let the music take you with the other. The music swelled to its apex and you began a circle of spins on your own, your only point of contact your hand clasped with his above your head, his other arm always there to catch you. Revolving only through the light touches of your feet on the ground, the exact right touch happening almost as if by magic to propel you through. And as you finished the twirls he clasped your waist once more, steadying you as you danced with him again. 

As you moved together his hand crept from your waist to rest on the small of your back, drawing you in closer to him. Your own hand traveled up to rest on the back of his neck, bringing his head down until your foreheads pressed together. You looked into each other's eyes as you slowed your movements, breathing in unison as you pulled apart to silence from those watching. 

Until you saw, out of the corner of your eye, Faramir’s hands raised to clap and then the noise of applause bombarded your senses. You heard a wolf-whistle and knew without looking that it was Legolas. 

You felt a hand on your waist again, and Aragorn guided you back up the steps. People were starting to move back onto the floor as the first strands of a new piece began to trickle through the air, but you didn’t notice. Your eyes were locked with his as you reached your seats, your body knowing that you were supposed to sit but your heart keeping you in place, one hand resting on his shoulder, his still on your waist, poised almost like the beginning of another dance.

And then the moment ended—his eyes broke from yours and looked over your shoulder as Legolas bounded up the steps behind you.

“Aragorn, we cannot have you taking all her time the whole night! The kingdom needs to see their soon to be queen mingle!”

Aragorn seemed surprised for a moment, before dropping his hands and nodding. 

You turned, and took Legolas’s offered arm, gliding down to the floor with him, and spent the rest of the night making small talk with various nobles, none of whose names you would remember the next day. Your mind just kept flitting back to the way Aragorn had looked at you, like you were the only person in the world. It had confused you, because that was the way you felt that you looked at him. But he was not in love with you, so it didn’t make sense. 

Much later that evening, after having excused yourselves from the banquet, you found yourself walking down the torchlit halls, Aragorn alongside you. You reached the door to your rooms and pressed your hand on the handle, ready to open it and say goodnight, but then Aragorn took your other hand and spun you around to face him. 

You stood there for a moment, breath unconsciously held as he simply looked at you.

And then he moved, and held you by your waist and spun you around until you felt the cool wood of the door against your back. He hesitated for a moment, looking at you before slowly kissing you. And then he deepened it, pressing your body against the door as your hands tangled in his hair and you melted into his touch, kissing him in return as you marveled at his actions. You didn’t know how long you spent there with him, kissing each other for the first time, not quite realizing what this meant but knowing it was bringing you delight to be with him.

Later, you stood on the balcony outside your room together, gazing down at the city before he turned to you. Your eyes didn’t move from his as you mirrored him, gazing at the picture he painted. He practically glowed in the moonlight, dark clothes not drowned out by the moonlight but instead set apart from the rest of the world. The silver thread looked like liquified moonlight, and in that moment, even without the crown that had doubtless fallen off somewhere inside, he looked every inch a king.

But he didn’t seem to care. He was simply drinking in the sight of you. You were sure that your cheeks were flushed, eyes bright and hair mussed but he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away. And he was right not to do so—however much the moonlight made him glow, it was nothing compared to the vision before him. It practically set you aflame, bright colors burning in the night sky as the white light caught the shimmering threads at just the right angle

And then his eyes left you as he moved, suddenly.

“My queen,”Aragorn said, bowing his head.

You stood there, shocked for a moment. 

“Aragorn—”

He looked up, meeting your eyes once more. “I was ignoring what I felt for you in order to make both our lives easier in some way. But I cannot ignore it—I suspect it was this that made me suggest this inane plan in the first place.” 

He laughed then, a small, wry chuckle.

“But I do hope that in doing so we may have found ourselves right in the place that I, at least, was trying to deny in the first place.”

You tilted your head, deep down knowing where he was leading but your heart pounding in your chest was too nervous to follow. 

“Where might that be?”

“Love,” he said. “For me, at least, I have been in love with you for a great deal of time. I am not so presumptuous as to assume that you return my affections, however I must tell you that I dearly wish for us to be betrothed in truth. I want to spend every next step, every coming spin, with you.”

As he spoke your eyes widened, hardly daring to hope but knowing that these words were real. You could tell by the depth of emotion held behind his eyes now, the softness but sureness with which he spoke. And you realized then that you had somehow always known—this was who you were meant to spend all the joyful moments, all the sad moments, and every moment with. 

He took your hand as you opened your mouth, searching your eyes as if bracing himself for your answer.

You laughed, nearing giddiness in this moment, standing on a balcony that overlooked all of Minas Tirith, flaming in the moonlight as the man you loved looked at you as if you were the only thing in the world. 

“Well, then. I believe we should make this betrothal official.”

******

everything taglist: @entishramblings @itgetsatadhazy @boyruins @anjhope1 @kumqu4t @katbby16 @thewhiteladyofrohan @kirstenscaffeinateddisaster @beenovel @shethereadinghobbit @guardianofrivendell @hey-its-nonny @errruvande

[avengersassemble-fics]

hello there

wow.

so.. its been awhile, hasn't it? like a long.. long time. sure, a couple posts but my last actual post was december 21, 2021.. crazy!

have I written anything since then? no, not really. re-read some of my work, thought "man this shit is so fuckin good" ..but I just honestly wasn't well enough to sit here and write. as much as I missed it.

what's new?.. a mess and depressed! but working through it. if you read my person posts in the pass, I worked at an optical store for a big big brand (not naming names) that felt like my soul was getting sucked out of me.. retail, amiright?

but seriously. I was there for 4 years by July of this year. in October, the manager I had been with since getting hired was moved to a store closer to her (congrats bestie) which opened up the management role for the one I was in.

I interviewed!! ...I didn't get it!!

devastated. like everything I had ever done was for fucking nothing. all the times I covered, where I took charge when the manager was out, the shitty position of just being under the threshold of FT so I never got the FT benefits (pto.. I was a feign for wanting time off). I interviewed, never got a definitive answer from the dm, until the news was laid on us that someone was hired.

someone who had less than a years experience, from a sister brand that sold non-rx sunglasses. A MAN. nothing wrong with me, I love men, but it was a gut punch. I had to continue being in charge for 2-3 months while this guy got trained for the position I felt I was deserving of.

and when he started it was absolute shit. I have never met someone so fuckin lazy. he refused to close, refused to work most weekends, never helped clean or help keep things organized, left me to handle signage changes and other things, stating stupid shit like "I didn't sign up for that" when like.. yes you did? that's literally the whole point of being a manager? the last week of the year is extremely busy in the optical space, because people want to use their benefits before the end of the year (use it or lose it). december 31, 2022.. what did he do? he left me and my coworker alone so he could go home early. we did ten thousand dollars in sales that day. that is what the store would average a week. we did it in a day.

my depression got worse.. but I did get my associates in psychology (cute). it wasn't until February of this year that I finally got a break. ya girl got a new job, in an office, not having to sell anything! perfection.

I moved out of my parents (it's def a struggle but.. my cat and I are happy), I officially was diagnosed with a chronic disease this year, working on my mental health everyday, did my first semester of uni..

and I miss this. writing, posting, daydreaming. I want to come back but I'm not sure if it is possible on this blog or if I'll have to start fresh elsewhere. but this place is my writing home (and AO3).

if you read all the way through, thank you. I hope to be back soon with new content (branching out of my comfort zone! finish old stories!)

until next time not two years from now..

xoxo caitlyn

[ablatheringblatherskite]

4, 10, 20, 135? :)

AAAAAHHH YAYY, thank you so much for the ask, Teaspoon (can I call u that?? Or do u have a better nickname suggestion!)!! So sorry it took a bit, I was trying to PERFECT this answer LOL (the book recc part especially took me a bit HAHA)

4. A poetry book that reads like a story

I think I'm gonna have to say When We Were Very Young and Now We Are Six by A.A. Milne!! I absolutely adore those poem books aaaaaaaa, I left them in our other home and I miss it so muchhh. I'm not sure if the question means all poems are connected or each poem feels like a story on its own, to me they really feel like the latter. They're so cute and beautiful and charming and nostalgic and agghhhhh

here's some of my favorites, just to name two of many:

and

Wind On The Hill

No one can tell me, Nobody knows, Where the wind comes from, Where the wind goes.

It’s flying from somewhere As fast as it can, I couldn’t keep up with it, Not if I ran.

But if I stopped holding The string of my kite, It would blow with the wind For a day and a night.

And then when I found it, Wherever it blew, I should know that the wind, Had been going there too.

So then I could tell them Where the wind goes… But where the wind comes from Nobody knows.

10. A book that got you through something

Okay this is a toughie, but only because I can't remember any specific times. BUT BOOKS HAVE ALWAYS AND FOREVER WILL HELP ME GET THROUGH A LOT OF DIFFICULT THINGS!

BUT one book that I am sure has helped me through SOME difficult things is Inkheart by Cornelia Funke. That's honestly one of my main comfort books ever since I was like, ten years old. Some people consider it to be slow but I think that's why I love it 🥺. It really takes time to depict the more mundane, realistic moments in between the high-stakes, perilous ones in their adventure. It's really about the ENTIRE journey, and I really love that

20. A book that got you out of a reading slump

I think one book that ripped me FIERCELY out of a reading slump was Wings of Fire, book 6: Moon Rising. I absolutely LOVE the Wings of Fire series (it's no surprise that it's about dragons LOL. I... love dragons...), and I'll be honest after finishing the first quartet I was skeptical about continuing to the next part of the series just because it ended so well, but I was NOT DISAPPOINTED. Disclaimer: I have yet to find a copy of book seven... BUT CAN'T WAIT FOR WHEN I FINALLY DO 😭

135. Recommend any book you like!

oh GOSH THERE'S SO MANY TO CHOOSE FROM. UMMM. Alright I have two!

Okay so there's Inkheart by Cornelia Funke, a REALLY underrated book imo that I love so much, that I think you'd like if you like fantasy and adventure that takes place in the real world. I don't know if COZY is the right word for it but it'd really cozy to me even if they characters are often in danger lol, but I think the biggest reason I love it so much is because it's a real love letter to books and reading (and even writing as well!). It's about a book binder and his daughter, and the book binder has the ability to read characters from books to life. I read it when I was ten and have loved it ever since.

Then there's the Wings of Fire quartet by Tui T. Sutherland, which I ABSOLUTELY LOVE TO THIS DAY. If you love dragons and fantasy, then you'd probably like this!!! Yeah it's a children's book but who CARES. This book series is about five dragonets who have been told all their life that they are destined to stop the Sandwing queen war, and their journey as they try to do exactly that. The world-building is so cool, with the different type of dragons, and I love the five main characters so much and their relationship with each otherrrrr. Seriously one of my favorite series ever.

ANYWAY IM SORRY AGAIN FOR THE LATE RESPONSE!! I've been thinking about this ask for days I swear thank you so much for asking it 🥹

If you wanna ask me more book-related asks, fire away!!

[isabellavolere]

Transformers Prime—Part 3: First Day of School

Masterlist

<-Previous Part

Next Part->

The blast knocks you to the ground and you clutch your shoulder in pain. You turn over and its face looms over you, the red lights of its visor burning a hole in your mind. The triangle blaster lights up and you close your eyes, waiting for the shot that will end everything. A loud crashing makes your eyes jerk open and you see the red robot straddling the purple one, his fists colliding over and over again with the purple robots’ body. After one last solid blow the purple robot struggles no more and you struggle to your feet. The red robot turns to you and the last thing you see is him, the red body, the silver face, the broken off horn. 

You awake with a start, your heart pounding and your breath unsteady. A drop of sweat drips down the side of your face and you swing your legs over the side of your bed. 

You’ve been thinking about the day you met those strange metal robots for days, the scene playing on repeat in the back of your head, but at night the scene came alive. 

You shake your head and stand up, wanting to get ready since today is the first day of your new school. You put on a white shirt with bold black letters that reads ‘Me? Sarcastic? Never!’ And a pair of navy blue cargo shorts. You brush through your tangled hair, braid it, and pull the strand of hair through a denim baseball cap. For the finishing touch you tie a red bandana around your wrist, then grab your backpack. When you walk into the kitchen you find your mom sitting at the dining room table eating Cheerios while flipping through a Real Style magazine. She notices you walking in and says “Morning y/n. I made you breakfast, it’s on the island.”

You thank her, grab the baCon’ she made, and go to the front hall to get your f/c Converse High Tops. When you come back to the kitchen, your mom takes out her phone and snaps a picture of you.

“Ack mom!” you say and shield your face in case she wants more pictures.

“I’m sorry, but look at you! My baby girl’s going to 10th grade at her new school in her cute little outfit,” She says.

“It’s not supposed to be cute, it’s supposed to be laid back,” you say as you cross your arms and fake pout. “Can I go now? Please?”

Your mom makes an overly dramatic sigh.

“Okay fine! No pictures. But, I’m driving you to school, let’s go.”

“What?” You ask. “I injured my arm, not my legs.” 

Your mom rolls her eyes and replies “It’s your first day of school, I’m driving you there. Besides, I want to make sure the walkway is good.”

Yes because I’m sure so many sketchy things happen in the middle of Jasper.

You decide against voicing that last thought, instead shrugging your shoulders, earning a flash of pain from your right shoulder, and walking to the truck. After a 10 minute drive you reach the school and your mom pulls in along the curb.

“Wow. You know I’m not sure I can walk to school every day. That 10 minute drive will surely double if I walk,” you joke, living up to your sarcastic shirt.

Your mom lightly hits your leg and says “It’s a good thing that sense of humor of yours survived your biking wreck. What a shame it would be if you lost it.”

You grin and say “I learn from the best.”

Grinning back, she says “Have a great day at school sweetheart.” 

Leaning across the truck, your mom proceeds to give you a death squeeze.

“Mom! I can’t breathe!” you say laughing. But she gives seriously tight hugs.

“Sorry, I’m just excited for your first day.”

“I think you're more excited than I am,” you say in a flat tone.

“Oh you’re going to be just fine,” she says.

You open the door, sling your backpack over your good shoulder, and walk up the front steps of your new school. It’s a two story brick building with a tan roof. Small square bushes line the sidewalk and a large oak tree stands by the side of the road. Students are scattered in front of the school and the idol chatter and laughter of the teenagers wafts through the warm and breezy day. You push your way through the crowd and walk through the double doors. You see a large circular desk in the middle of the school, with a small golden plaque on top of the dark wood that reads ‘front desk’ in a dark gray script. As you walk up to the desk you can see a man you guess to be around the age of 20 typing furiously on a small Chromebook. You can see several stickers of various video game logos placed haphazardly on the back of the computer. You recognize the pixelated grass block of Minecraft, the tilted white square of Roblox, the yellow gear and black 76 of Fallout 76, and many others. The man is wearing a bright turquoise shirt with bright pink flamingos, khaki shorts, black framed glasses, and has untidy brown hair.

Wow that shirt is an assault to my eyes. I wonder where he got it.

“Umm excuse me Mr…” you look down at his name tag. “Morison?”

He looks up and arranges his glasses, his hazel eyes pausing briefly on the bandages wrapped around your shoulder, before meeting your gaze and fixing you with a lopsided grin.

“You can call me Scott. How can you help?”

“Um, well I just moved here. Could you give me my class schedule please?”

“Sure thing! What’s your name?”

“It’s y/l/n, y/n y/l/n.”

You wait as he clicks on your name on the screen, fiddling with the end of the bandage that hangs by your right elbow.

“Ah, here we go. Let me print this out for you. So y/n, where did you move from, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Colorado.”

“Really? I’m from Colorado! What part are you from?”

“Parker. How about you?”

“I’m from Castle Rock.”

“Cool. It’s nice to know someone from Colorado.”

“Likewise!” 

Just then a dull ringing reverberates throughout the school, signaling the start of class. 

“Well, welcome to Jasper. I’m sure you’ll love it here," says Scott. “This is your schedule. Your first class is history with Miss. Grizwald. The class is upstairs, down the hall, third door on your right.” 

You grab the schedule that Scott hands you, thank him, then turn around to look for your class. 

“Let's see...Up the stairs, okay then down this hall. Yep, and the third door on the right,” you mumble to yourself as you shuffle through the school. 

You find the class and take a deep breath before knocking on the door. A short, ancient looking woman opens the door. Her silvery hair is tied up in a tight bun on her head and a strong cloud of perfume reaches your nose. You can’t help your nose from wrinkling. 

How old is this teacher? She looks like she’s at least 150 years old, and her perfume is going to choke me!

“Well?” She barks in a stern voice. “You are five minutes late!” you gulp but bravely meet her gaze.

“I-I-I’m a new student. My-my name's y/n ma’am.” 

She reminds you of the substitute teacher from Percy Jackson.

“Well that’s no excuse to be late, hmm? Go find a seat, and be snappy about it!”

You quickly brush past her and start walking quickly down the center aisle. You hardly notice the kids that you pass until a head of messy jet black hair sitting a few rows away from the front catches your eye.

“Jack?” you blurt out and he looks up, surprise and recognition showing in his face.

“I’m pleased you seem to already have a friend, but do you think you can hold your enthusiasm until the end of class?” says Miss. Grizwald in a crisp voice.

You flinch and mumble a small sorry before rushing to find an empty desk. The only empty desk is two seats behind and one row to the left of Jack. Naturally. The desk is the only one left open for a reason. It’s covered in small doodles, previous peers’ names, and crossed out swear words. Wads of gum who’s color had long faded stick to the underside of the desk. When you sit down the chair squeaks and wouldn’t sit level, instead opting to sway from leg to leg.  

The class is dull, and you and Jack spend most of it looking anywhere but each other. Every time you locked eyes, your faces would go promptly back to focusing on the class. When your morning classes finish you walk to your locker to drop off your books and get your lunch. The locker is a faded tan color and the paint chips off in a few places. It takes you a few tries to unlock the lock, but when you get the locker open the first thing you notice is the smell. It is a sharp metallic smell that makes you gag and you make a mental note to bring a car air freshener to hang on the door. By the time you find the lunchroom the tables are packed with kids. As you stand by the doorway scanning the room for an empty chair, you hear your name being called. You look around and see Jack and the younger boy from yesterday waving and gesturing for you to come over to them. You walk over to the two boys and greet them with a small smile.

“Hey. I think all of these tables are taken. Do you want to eat outside with us?” Jack asks.

You shrug and say “Sure.”

The boys lead you through a set of double doors to a small courtyard behind the school. A gushing stream filled with tiny pebbles rushes past several tall oak trees and ends in a glittering pond filled with orange, white, yellow, and black coy fish. In between the trees and the pond sits a long wooden bench, and is covered by all sorts of names carved into every square inch of the tan wood. You sit down on the bench under the shade of the oak trees and the boys follow. You open your lunch bag and start eating a turkey and cheese sandwich. 

After a few minutes of silence Jack looks at the younger boy and says “You know, I don’t think I got your name.”

“I’m Raf. What’s your name?” He asks.

“My name is Jack,” he says and turns to you. “You’re y/n, right?”

“Yep, that’s me,” you Con’firm.

“I guess with all those robots we didn’t really have time for introductions,” says Raf. 

“The Con’s, or whatever they call themselves,” you say as you furrow your brows.

You flash-back to the day that purple Con’’ shot you. You can see his faceless features, gun pointed at your head, arm ready to fire the shot that would kill you. Or would have, if it weren’t for that red robot.

“They were the ones who did that to your arm, didn’t they?” Jack asks. 

You realize he was looking down at the bandage that was wrapped around the top of your shoulder and down to just above your elbow. Biting your bottom lip, you nod slowly.

“What happened to it?” Raf asks tentatively.

“Well, I might as well tell you the whole story. It all started when I came across these robots when I was dirt biking in the woods,” you begin. “I was riding down a path and saw a big crater up ahead. I was going too fast to stop so I kicked the bike out from under me and slid down the side of the crater. That’s when I noticed a bunch of the purple robots fighting a red robot. It wasn’t going well for the red robot, he was outnumbered and needed a distraction, so I got its attention and threw a rock at it, which wedged itself into where the heart of the robot should have been, causing it to explode.”

“Whoa whoa whoa hold on!” Raf stops you, his eyes wide. “You see this giant metal robot getting attacked by a bunch of other robots and instead of running away, you throw a rock at one of them!?” 

“Yes I did. As I was saying, when I threw the rock all the robots started chasing me and shooting. Since my dirt bike was at the top of the crater I tried to climb the rock but it was too steep. The purple robots were coming for me so I started running around the edge of the crater, but one of the robots got a lucky shot and hit my shoulder. The impact knocked me to the ground and the bot that shot me caught up. He pointed his gun at me and would have finished me off if it weren't for the red robot. 

He came and tacked the purple robot out of the way, then started beating it up. Now, I was hit pretty hard, but I will never forget when he picked me up and then sort of transformed around me. I don’t know how, but he turned into this Dodge Challenger and I was sitting in the passenger seat, or, I guess the body of the robot. Anyway, I-“

“The robot picked you up and transformed into a car around you?” Jack asks.

“Yes!” You respond, a little frustrated at the interruptions. 

“Like I was saying, I began to hear voices coming from the car radio. I think the red robot knew who they belonged to because he was talking with them. As I was listening to the Con’versation I learned that the robots that were shooting at me are called DeceptiCon’s. So the red robot was driving through the forest when this gray robot sort of appeared and he slams on his brakes. Then he transforms again and I’m sitting in his hand while the new robot starts shooting at us. Apparently it was my day for near death experiences because the gray bot shoots the red bots’ arm and I go flying to the ground, landing at the gray bots feet.”

You pause to take a big breath of air and then Con’tinue with your story.

“So the gray bot picked me up and was threatening to squish me or whatever. All of a sudden someone yells Cliff, which I guess is a nickname for the red bot, and all these robots come from out of nowhere with their guns loaded. But of course they didn’t want to risk hurting me if they missed the robot so I summoned up all the strength I had left and kicked him in the face! It felt pretty good too. Well naturally he drops me, which is like 10 feet off the ground, and I-“

“You kicked him in the face!? That’s awesome!” Raf pumps his fist in the air. 

You just look at him and say “Thank you, but hush and let me finish!”

Raf drops his hands in his lap and looks at you sheepishly.

“So I drop to the ground and run back to my dirt bike, then ride as fast as I can back to my house. I totally freaked out every time I heard a car. By the time I got home the adrenaline rush I was riding wore down, and I pretty much collapsed onto my bed. And then there was the whole thing with meeting you guys. So now here we are.” 

As you finish your story, you can’t help but chuckle at the reactions of the two boys. Rafs’ eyes are the size of saucers and his mouth hangs open while Jack looks equal parts concerned and terrified. 

They are silent for a long time before Jack asks, “So, if we’ve all seen the evil robots, are we all in danger? I mean how else would they have found us at the restaurant if they weren’t following you?” 

You frown and look at him, eyebrows furrowed in contemplation. 

“If you two are in danger because of me...” but you can’t bring yourself to finish the sentence. You are all quiet again, each lost in thought. Dimly you hear the bell ring signaling that classes were starting again, but you are so lost in thought that the sound barely registers in your head.

“Well that’s the school bell. We should probably get to our classes,” says Raf.

“Yeah probably,” you respond. “I guess I’ll see you guys later.”

You grab the empty plastic bag that holds your sandwich. With all the talking you hardly ate the rest of your lunch. Quickly you begin eating the other food as you walk to your locker. 

What if Jack and Raf are in danger because of me? What if they get hurt? I be the one to blame?

***

When the school bell finally rings, signaling that school is over, you rush to pack up your school books. You sling your backpack over your good shoulder and then walk out of the classroom, joining the wave of students pushing their way out of the school. As you are walking through the doors the sun shines brightly in your eyes and you bring a hand up to your face, hoping to shield your eyes, but it doesn't help much. You let the flow of students push you along but a backpack comes out of nowhere and hits you in the chest. You fall sideways and stumble into a girl who is sitting on the railing of the stairs, brows furrowed in concentration as she sketches something on a notepad. As you look at her more closely you can see that the girl is Asian. She is wearing a pink tee shirt with a navy blue tank top and jean shorts that has a bright yellow belt. Her hair is black and streaked with hot pink highlights.

“Sorry!” you say as you adjust the strap on your backpack. 

“y/n, over here.” 

You turn to see Jack and Raf standing under a tree a few feet to the right. 

You walk over to them and say “Hey guys.”

Jack was just about to respond when you hear a car beep and you see a black and yellow Camaro pull up next to the tree.

“Oh, not again!” Jack mumbles as the door to the car opens. 

The car makes a series of beeps and you frown slightly.

“It wants us to get in?” you guess, already dreading the answer.

“No,” says Raf. “Just me.” 

“How do you know that?” Jack asks.

“It said so. Yours is over there,” he says and points behind you and Jack. 

You watch as Raf gets into the passenger seat of the car. The Camero shuts the door and speeds off, kicking up a cloud of dust. You and Jack cough a few times before turning around to see a red Dodge Challenger and a blue motorcycle parked in the lot in front of the high school. Images start to flash before your eyes, the purple DeceptiCon’s, the muzzle of the bots’ gun just inches from your face, the inside of the Dodge Challenger, the little metal face on the steering wheel, and worst of all, the grin of that gray robot.  

“That red car’s the one who you were talking about, right? The one that saved you?” Jack asks, seeming to have noticed your slightly paling face.

You nod slowly, eyes glued to the car that has haunted your dreams for days. After everything that has happened to you, after getting shot by the Con’s’, almost squished to death by that gray robot, nearly getting you and Jack killed…the red Challenger flashes his headlights twice at you and you suck in a breath. You know you can’t face him, not now. You turn around quickly and start walking down the sidewalk towards your home. You start to get lost in thought again when you hear Jack jogging to catch up to you. You both turn down an alleyway and reach the middle of it before the motorcycle skids to a stop in front of us, a blue and black leather-clad lady with a black racing helmet sitting on her. 

“Relax, I just wanna talk to you,” she says. 

“Don’t you mean you and your leather-clad friend?” Jack accuses.

“Kid, there’s a lot you don’t understand,” says the motorcycle as the lady pixelizes and vanishes. 

“No, I get it. The first rule about robot fight club is you don’t talk about robot fight club. What you need to understand is that I don’t want a bunch of crazy talking vehicles following me around, trying to get me killed! I’ve seen what those purple robots can do to people.” 

Jack quickly glances at your shoulder, then looks back at the robot, backing away. He turns around and is about to leave the alley when the red Dodge Challenger pulls up, blocking Jack's escape. 

“What took you, Cliffjumper?” Asks the blue robot. “You were right behind me.”

“There was a red light!” He retorts.

The blue motorcycle transforms and rolls her eyes as Cliffjumper transforms as well.

“Look, Jack and y/n, is it? Your personal safety is exactly why Optimus Prime has requested your presents.

“Optimus who?” Jack questions.

“He’s the tall red and blue robot with the deep voice from a few nights ago, isn’t he?” you guess.

“Optimus has been especially worried about your safety. It seems like you're very popular with the Con’s. Two mash ups in two days? You’ve got to be a legend up at Con’’ HQ!” says Cliffjumper, smiling as you look up at him. “Hey there. Glad to see the Con’s didn’t hurt ya too badly. I thought you were scrapped for sure!” 

“And because of that,” the blue robot says, redirecting the conversation,” you might be one of the few, one of the only who have ever seen us.”

“Dudes, what are you waiting for? Go with!”

You turn around and see the Asian girl with black hair and bright pink highlights that you had run into earlier. She was leaning around the wall of the alley and was apparently unfazed by the fact that she just found two humans next to two giant talking robots. 

“Scrap!” Exclaims both robots at the same time.

“Well, should we bring her with us?” Cliffjumper asks, turning to the blue robot.

“I guess we have to,” says the blue robot, though you notice she doesn’t sound thrilled. Cliffjumper nods and transforms into his car form, revving his engine and opening the passenger side door.

“You wanna ride with me kid?” He asks. 

You look back at the new girl and Jack, then slip inside the car. You reach over your shoulder to put your seatbelt on but Cliffjumper says “Allow me” and buckles you in. The belt gently tightens around you and the door closes with a soft bang.

“Uh, thanks,” you say uncertainly.

“I’ve got to say, it’s nice to officially meet you. Which reminds me,” he says as he pulls out onto the road, “I don’t think I properly introduced myself. I’m Cliffjumper, and my partner is Arcee.”

“I-I’m y/n.”

“Pleased to meet ya y/n,” He laughs. 

It’s a smooth, rolling laugh that makes you smile. His voice is like that too, calm and smooth so that when he talks low his voice rumbles. It reminds you of the thunder storms that would roll through the mountains and valleys of the Rocky Mountains.

 You lean back in the seat and prop your elbow on the side of the door, staring out of the window as buildings and houses pass by. Absent-mindedly you begin to mess with the door, stroking your finger up and down the latch. A shudder passes through the car and your hand retracts quickly, like you’d been burned. You fold your hands in your lap, mumbling a faint “sorry.”

“It’s alright. I guess I’m just not used to humans sitting in me,” Cliffjumper says. 

I hadn’t thought that I’m sitting in Cliffjumper. This feels weird.

“Have you ever met a human before?” you ask curiously.

“I’ve only met one human, but I don’t like him very much,” He says.

You were kind of disappointed, you’d hoped to be the first person he met. 

Seeming to read your thoughts, Cliffjumper quickly adds “But you’re the first human kid that I’ve met. And, the first person I’ve been able to drive around.”

You nod and look out the window, where the buildings and houses were much more spread apart.

We must be driving though the outskirts of town. I wonder if he’s driving me somewhere in the desert.

Sure enough you pass a green sign marking the end of the city limits. 

“Umm, not to be rude or anything, but where are you taking me?” you ask, wondering how much farther the drive will be.

“If you told you I’d have to kill ya,” says Cliffjumper in a solemn voice. 

A moment of silence fills the car, then he laughs and says “Kidding! You don’t think our base was in the town did you? It had to be somewhere no one would go snooping around to find it. Speaking of bases, we’re here.”

You look around excitedly, but all you see are spikey green cacti with pink and yellow blossoms scattered along a dusty, sprawling landscape. Towering mesas cast shadows that stretch across the sandy desert. You look through Cliffjumpers’ windshield and see that the road you have been driving on ends up ahead. A stop sign marks the end of the road but Cliffjumper flies past it, heading straight for a huge mesa that looms overhead. 

“Uhh, Cliffjumper?” you squirm slightly in your seat as the wall of rock gets closer and closer.

“Do you trust me?” He asks.

“Wait what? What are you doing?” you brace, waiting for the impact that would come from driving head-long into a wall. Just as you were about to crash, a section of the seemingly solid wall slides to the side to reveal a dimly lit tunnel that winds through the rock.

“Huh. Thought for sure you would scream. You're braver than you look, kid,” Cliffjumper says, sounding impressed. 

“I suppose after almost being killed by giant metal robots twice, little will shake me at this point,” you contemplate.

“Fair point,” says Cliffjumper.

You flash a grin, but your jaw practically drops to the floorboard as your brain struggles to comprehend what your eyes are seeing.

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[aris-c0rner]

pre-read: beautiful deception

hello all! ari here, i finally got around to editing, updating, and moving my NCT gang au, “beautiful deception”, off of wattpad and onto tumblr! it’s been about 6 or so years since i first wrote this fic... wow. it got a lot of love on wattpad, but my writing style has changed and grown immensely since i started this, so i figured it was time to give it an upgrade and finish it here on my tumblr. so if you read this fic and it seems really really familiar for some reason, you probably read the initial version of it on wattpad under my old username mineyoonghi!! 

a few things to be aware of before you begin reading:

1. i started this fic waaay back when NCT was ot18, literally days after the “black on black” mv was released lol. that being said, the fic is written with only ot18 until chapter 21, when i found a way to incorporate wayv; i am hoping to find a way to make it ot23 but be warned, you may not see sungchan or shotaro here.

2. i wrote the initial fic on wattpad from a 1st person pov and named the character song seunmae- i decided to change this and instead convert the fic into a reader-insert 2nd person pov, so bye-bye seunmae lol. if you see the words “i” “me” “my” etc. in this fic, that’s just a typo from the original version hehe, please ignore.

3. i got locked out of my wattpad account where i wrote this fic (mineyoonghi) a few years ago because i lost access to the email i used to sign up.. smh. anyways, wattpad has been a bitch about not letting me get back into it so the story is unfinished on there; i’m pretty mad abt it because i had SO many chapter drafts and plot points saved in my unpublished works there, and i have no way of getting back to it to remember where i was going with the story. so everything after ch.21 will be from scratch, since that was the last part uploaded on wattpad for public reading. i’ve called my email provider so much that they know me by name and they still can’t unlock the account for me. ugh.

4. in case i havent mentioned wattpad enough yet, i’d like to say that this gang au was largely inspired by another fic i read on there named “bandaids”!! i totally fell in love with it although i don’t remember the user who wrote it (or if it’s even still up anymore). so if you see a lot of similarities between bandaids and this fic, it’s because beautiful deception was brought to life after reading that one!!

5. if you’re an OG who read the oldie version of this up on wattpad, two things: i love you i love you i love you, and also forget that version pls and thanks its SO embarrassing haha. but seriously, if you remember that version then you remember how weird the ages/personalities were for some of the members,, don’t worry i fixed that here. idk what i was on when i wrote some of the members that way lmao but it’s all good in this fic, it’s much better now.

6. if you were one of my beta readers for mineyoonghi and you remember who the traitor is, DO NOT I BEG OF YOU PLEASE!!! do not comment who it is!! please don’t spoil the reading experience for my lovely tumblr followers,, and for those of you who have no idea what i’m talking abt: it’s not who you think. :)

7. this was such a long note so thank you to all who made it through to the end!! i’m so excited to bring this passion project of mine back to life after so many years, and happy reading! xoxoxoxo times infinity!!!