#like research write and get feedback when you write things that you aren’t

[belle-keys]

one of the absolute worst unironic takes i've seen on the instawebs is "only people from x background can write main characters from x background" like holy shit how can you possibly politicize literature to this extent?

it's genuinely shocking to me that some people's personal motto when it comes to art and media creation is "only write what you are". with this mindset, writing inherently becomes about social and political identity when it should be about "let's do justice to this character and their background the best we can".

[junkissed]

ocean view

member — junhui x f reader genre — romance, smut, strangers to lovers, soulmate au word count — 8.8k synopsis — an all expenses paid trip to greece for your friend's wedding seems too good to be true, but it gets even better when you meet a handsome stranger on the beach. with the help of a mysterious old lady, her magic deck of tarot cards, and one too many coincidences, you're starting to believe things really do happen for a reason. warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, unprotected sex, fingering, marking, an oddly romantic one night stand, mentions of past hookups, reader wears dresses, way too much yearning, happy ending ! notes — my part for the @svthub world tour collab; check out the masterlist here! thanks to @multi-kpop-fanfics for answering all my questions and the biggest thanks ever to @onlymingyus for proofreading & helping me brainstorm throughout !! inspired mostly by the spell mv but also a little bit from nana tour and in the soop bc of the vacation vibes. disclaimer i know nothing about tarot but i did a ton of research so i hope that part makes sense anyway :) this fic was a huge challenge to write so please please reblog if you enjoyed reading, the feedback is super appreciated and it helps me keep writing!! read bonus material here!

they say time flies when you’re having fun.

it felt like just days ago when your best friend had announced she was flying everyone to athens for her destination wedding. between helping prepare for the wedding and getting yourself packed for the trip of a lifetime, a weekend on the beach sounded like exactly what you needed to unwind.

but now that you’re here, you’ve quickly realized that your dreams of lazy spa days, massages, and lounging on chairs in the sand with cocktails aren’t on your friend’s itinerary.

what is on her itinerary, however? clubs. lots of clubs, and bars, and raves.

the night before the wedding, you’d showed up at the place you had all planned to meet at for her bachelorette party, a popular bar right on the beach in the center of everything. you hadn’t been sure what to expect, so you’d worn your swimsuit underneath your sundress just in case. between wedding plans and jet lag, you hadn’t yet had the chance to explore the beaches, and you weren’t about to let your favorite white strappy one-piece go to waste without wearing it the whole trip; especially not when you’re surrounded by gorgeous clear waters you don’t get to see while you’re at home.

you tug at your dress a little awkwardly, a simple off-white piece with buttons all down the front. cute and casual, the perfect thing for an evening on the beach. except an evening on the beach is not what you’re getting.

“next round is on me!”

all the girls let out a cheer, clapping and whooping as they raise their glasses. you’re still not even halfway through your first drink; the night is young, but your friends are more enthusiastic partygoers than you are.

you lean away to check the time on your phone, trying not to feel defeated when you see how early it still is. you’ve been trying to hype yourself up for tonight all weekend, but it doesn’t help that your friends are bigger partiers than you. that isn’t to say that you dislike parties, or that you never go out; but parties like this, huge events with hundreds of people packed into a small space with loud music and flashing lights, aren’t really your ideal way to spend a saturday night. even for such a special, rare occasion like a bachelorette party in another country, you can’t bring yourself to get lost in the scene. you should’ve known how this would go, and yet here you are, standing at a cocktail table by yourself surrounded by drunk women.

you turn back around and suddenly the bar is a sea of unfamiliar faces, everyone around you lost in their own worlds jumping and dancing to the music that booms from the speakers. you stand up on your tiptoes to see above the crowd, trying to push your way through in search of someone you recognize, but it seems like they’ve all vanished.

the pounding of the music is starting to give you a headache, so you down the last of your drink and head away from the bar, pushing past people until the crowd eventually starts to thin and you break out into the open air.

it’s still light outside, but the contrast from the darkened bar makes it feel like stepping into another world. the noise gets quieter the farther away you move, and you find your feet carrying themselves down the beach. you walk backwards, turning to look over your shoulder one more time to see if you can spot your friends, but all you see is a crowd full of strangers.

it’s easier to breathe out here, feeling the freshness of the ocean breeze and the salty air in your lungs as you get further and further from the people and the businesses. you turn around again and almost run straight into a man walking from the opposite direction, and you stumble into his arms before you realize what’s happening. you let out a little squeak in surprise and jump backwards, almost tripping over your own feet but his hand instinctively shoots around your waist to help keep you upright.

your cheeks burn with embarrassment, an apology already ready on your lips, but he beats you to it. “sorry,” he says with a shy laugh, slowly letting go of you and offering his hand for balance as you slip your sandal back on that had come off. he steps back and gives you a polite smile, trying to move out of your way. “you look like you’ve got somewhere to be.”

“the opposite, actually. escaping my friend's bachelorette party," you explain. 

"we're in the same boat, then," he chuckles, tucking his hands into the pockets of his shorts. "trying to ditch the bachelor party. it’s a popular place for weddings, huh?”

“seems like it.” you hum, turning to look out over the water. the setting sun glints off the surface, a clear and bright sparkling blue, and you lift your hand to keep the glare out of your eyes. “i just didn’t think it’d be so…”

“…hectic?” he asks, and you laugh a little.

"yeah, you could say that.” a warm breeze ruffles through your sundress, and you cross your arms over your chest. “i guess all weddings are like that, though.”

he nods, following your gaze off into the horizon. you go quiet, listening to the music still loud in the distance and the sound of seagulls cawing above your heads. "i was hoping to get a chance to explore more of the beaches while i'm here. i don’t get to see it often."

"wanna go for a walk?” you ask suddenly, uncrossing your arms. maybe it’s the fresh air of a new place, maybe it’s the comfort of finding another person wanting to get away from it all, but some part of you wants to stay here and find out. you’d wanted to see more of the landscape anyway, and now seems like as good a time as any, especially now that you’ve got company.

he looks over at you, judging your expression before his face softens. “that sounds perfect.”

it’s still early enough that the beach is still mostly full of tourists, adults lounging on towels while reading books and kids splashing water at each other and playing in the sand. you walk further down the beach, passing in front of a grey haired old woman sitting cross-legged on a towel, shuffling a deck of cards in her wrinkled hands.

"always lovely to see couples enjoying the islands,” she calls out to you. there’s an almost rhythmic lilt to her voice, and it’s so sudden that it makes both of you pause and turn around, having paid her no mind as you walked past before. she gestures down at the deck and you finally notice that she’s holding a set of tarot cards, a deep matte black that seems to glitter and sparkle even while shadowed. “would you like a reading?”

your cheeks start to warm, and you push down the butterflies that flutter to life when she assumes you’re together. "oh, no, we're not—”

"sure," jun says over you, and you sneak a glance up at him when you think he's not looking. "how much?"

she clucks her teeth and shakes her head, staring directly at you although she’s answering his question. "no, no, no, my dear. just offering a bit of friendly advice. won’t cost you a thing."

jun nods, but she seems like she’s waiting for your answer so you quickly nod, too. “okay. what… do we have to do?”

she places her palms over the deck and closes her eyes, falling silent. you stand in front of her, feeling a little awkward to be hovering over her like this, but she it’s like she doesn’t even notice. you share a look with jun, but after a beat he grabs your hand and grins as if to say, just go along with it.

her eyes suddenly fly open and she seems pleased with whatever she was doing. “i knew i could feel it,” she says cryptically as she begins shuffling the cards. “but let’s just see what fate has to say about it.”

she stops and pulls the top two cards from the deck, placing them face down on the towel as she motions at them with her hand. at her signal, jun bends forward and turns over one of the cards, reading it aloud. “ace of cups.”

“ace of cups,” she repeats. “an invitation. the open, uninhibited flow of emotions, creativity, and love; the awakening of your spirit. this is a new beginning for you, the start of a new season. trust yourself and your feelings, and embrace the opportunity to grow with your emotions.”

jun nods seriously like he’s taking in her words, but you can see the hint of a smile at the corner of his lips that he’s trying to suppress.

she looks at you expectantly, and you hesitate before realizing she’s waiting for you to flip over the second card. you cheeks heat as you read it, but you try not to let it show. “the… lovers?”

she smiles, and although her face looks kind you have a sense that there’s something she’s not telling. “the lovers,” she says, almost solemnly. “many people think this card is strictly about romance. and in some ways it is, but what it really represents is a choice. two diverging paths, two responsibilities. will you choose with your head, or with your heart?”

she stares at you for another moment, then looks back at jun. you both stay quiet and still, subconsciously hanging on her every word as she pauses, clearly having more to say. “having these two cards come up together… now, that’s fascinating for you two, isn’t it?”

you find yourself nodding silently, although you have no idea why. you feel jun’s hand in yours, warm and soft and grounding, and the smallest shiver runs down your spine.

“the lovers and the ace of cups are the potential for new beginnings and the fulfillment that comes with following your heart,” she says, her eyes locked with yours. “this is a very powerful and meaningful connection, but only if you make the choice that is most heartfelt. you must be willing to be your most authentic self and hold nothing back. keep your eyes open, and you will be rewarded with profound joy and happiness.”

immediately you turn to look at jun to see his reaction. he looks just as confused—but is that a hint of excitement in his eyes?—as you do. the woman’s words are… cryptic, to say the least, but it stirs up a feeling of excitement in the back of your mind that you’re trying to ignore. it probably doesn’t mean what you think it does, right?

"hey, wait, so what does—”

you turn back to look at the woman for another explanation, but there's no one there. the beach is empty except for you and jun and the slowly setting sun, a few boats tied up at the dock. you’ve walked so far down the beach that even the distant music has faded into obscurity and you’re left standing alone together, surrounded by nothing but the sounds of the waves. even the wind has died down, and it feels eerily quiet but in an almost comforting sort of way, to be alone together in a place like this.

"you believe in that kind of stuff?" you ask curiously as jun starts to walk away.

"mm… not really. but she seemed like a lonely old lady. i thought it'd make her day." he looks down at your entwined hands and squeezes lightly, almost teasing as you look up and see the grin on his face. "why, do you?"

you can't help the butterflies that instantly flutter to life in your stomach when you feel his warm hand in yours, but you shrug. "why not?"

jun doesn't reply, just nodding thoughtfully as you continue to walk hand in hand. 

with the way the atmosphere has suddenly changed, it feels like time has stopped as you meander your way along the edge of the water. you chat off and on with jun, but there’s a hefty amount of silence that neither one of you feels obligated to fill. talking to jun feels like talking to an old friend, and maybe it’s the beautiful scenery or maybe it’s the way both of you had found yourselves here looking for company.

after a while you come to a stop just below the rocks where you’d started. your footprints from where you’d run into each other are still visible, little indents in the damp sand, and it reminds you of what you were running away from in the first place. maybe you don’t want to run anymore. 

"well…”  jun says, inhaling slowly. "we should get you back to your friends. i'm sure they're looking for you."

"would it be so bad if i said i didn't want to find them?"

he pauses to gauge your reaction, and you don’t miss the flicker in his eyes as he looks at you. after a moment nods and points up the shallow cliffs, towards a little stone staircase worn down from years of being travelled on. "my hotel is just up there. if… if you wanted to stay a little longer? with me?"

you pull your lip between your teeth, looking up at him and the way the fading sunlight shines through his soft brown waves, and it only takes a second to make your decision. “i’d really like that.” 

it turns out that missing out on your friend’s party for a few more hours is an easy price to pay for more time with jun.

the door of his hotel room barely has time to shut before your hands are on each other. you tug him closer by shirt with an eagerness you rarely allow yourself and he immediately reciprocates, pulling you by the waist until you’re pressed chest to chest.

his hand skims over your collarbone towards your neck, and you shiver at the warmth of his fingers caressing the side of your jaw. he angles your chin upwards and leans in as you meet him halfway and your lips finally touch, a low sound escaping from your throat as his nose brushes your cheek.

he makes a soft noise as he inhales, deepening the kiss until you feel your knees go weak. his hand cups your jaw harder, trying to draw you further into him, unwilling to break apart. he kisses you so softly yet you can still feel the intensity behind every movement of his lips, exploring your mouth with a gentleness that feels more natural than anyone you’ve ever kissed before.

jun curls his arm around you tighter, and you’re sure he can hear how fast your heart is beating as he kisses you again and again until you’re breathless. you slide your hands away from his chest and start to undo the buttons at the front of your dress, but he stops you. you look up and meet his gaze as his hand on your cheek moves to wrap around your waist, carefully walking you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the bed and you let yourself fall back onto it.

he lets out a quiet groan as you pull him down with you, landing on top of you and catching himself on his forearms beside your head. his face is inches away from yours, staring into your eyes for a beat before he presses down to capture your lips again.

his kisses feel like magic, and you almost forget exactly what you’re here to do. you’d be content to spend hours with his lips on yours and nothing else, but you’re quickly pulled away from it when he sits back and starts to slide his hands down your body, his nimble fingers skillfully undoing the buttons of your dress one by one.

he pulls the fabric away and lets it fall to the floor before leaning to kiss you again, and a grateful sigh slips from your lips at his touch. your fingers tug at his shirt and he breaks away once more to quickly pull it off over his head, tossing it behind him without a second thought.

your hands slide earnestly across his body, your fingertips trailing down his torso and the deep lines of his abs. his fingers brush over your swimsuit in tandem, tracing the cutouts of the fabric where your skin is visible and making you prickle with goosebumps at his touch.

he seems equally as content to just continue doing this, but eventually his hands make their way upwards and gently slip the straps off your shoulders. he doesn't move any further than that, waiting for you to move instead, his fingers resting at the base of your neck just beneath your chin. 

you follow his actions and shimmy the suit down, letting it bunch up at your hips. only then does he finally break apart from you, moving his mouth down to your exposed breast and letting his tongue glide over your peaked nipple. your skin tastes like salt and sweat, like sunny days and warm breezy nights, and he can't get enough of you.

the first moan you let out is like music to his ears, and immediately he craves more of them. he wraps his mouth around your other nipple while keeping his hands attached to your body like magnets, desperate to be the one to draw more of those pretty noises from your lips.

you lift your hips just a little and he quickly gets the hint, wordlessly pushing his fingers between your skin and the fabric of your swimsuit before tugging it all the way off. he pulls it down your legs and you help him kick it away, leaving you completely bare beneath him.

your hands slide across his shoulders and up the back of his neck, tangling in his hair with another moan that sends a shiver down his spine. you can’t help but roll your hips upwards against his body, squirming for more friction as your nails scratch at his scalp.

his face stays buried in your chest for a long time, moving between your breasts and planting wet kisses all along your skin. your head is spinning at the sight of this gorgeous man working his magic on your body, his hands wandering up and down with a tender purpose. you don't even know his name but you already know you're gonna be thinking about this night for months, probably even years. you're shocked at how good he is at this; there's a melancholy feeling looming in the back of your mind, knowing that this is probably the first and only night you’ll get to spend with him, but you don't have time to focus on that when you have the tingly feeling in your stomach to focus on instead.

despite not saying anything aloud you can tell exactly what he wants from you, and something about how easy this is sends a feeling of relief through you. all of the mistakes of your past hookups feel like a distant memory. there’s none of the empty conversations meant to do nothing more than fill the silence and the awkward, tentative movements that you’ve become accustomed to from strangers who aren’t familiar with your body. 

but something about the way jun touches you does feel familiar, like you’ve been waiting all your life for it, for him. his silence, something that most of your partners in the past had fought so hard to avoid, now only leaves more room for you to enjoy the sounds that often go overlooked: the wet hum as his lips connect with your skin, the distant crash of waves outside the window, the quiet whir of the ceiling fan.

jun leans down and kisses you again, shifting on top of you as his hand wanders down your hips. you pull him closer and let your hand travel a similar path, and you bite your lip in excitement when your fingers skim over the bulge straining against his shorts.

he lets out a strangled noise almost like a whimper at the contact but the sound only encourages you to add more pressure, soaking in his reactions. he whines again, pushing his hips into your hand and exhaling a shaky breath as you continue to palm him, feeling the hard outline of his cock as he struggles to keep his composure.

his knee is against your thigh and he repositions himself to press it higher between your legs, returning the favor and giving you something to grind on. instinctively your legs widen a little to give him easier access, and he rewards you with another hot, messy kiss.

you groan at the feeling, pushing your hips down towards him and rubbing yourself on him. it’s a little rough at first, but you’re already so wet that it doesn’t take long before his knee is coated in your arousal and you slide along him easily. 

after a minute he pulls back just an inch, giving you room to breathe, but one hand is still on your hip and the other curled behind you to support your neck. “good?” he asks breathlessly, and even though it’s clear as day that you’re enjoying this as much as he is, you still nod and give him an encouraging smile, and he returns it with a smile of his own. “just let me know,” he says, and the sultry yet sweet tone of his voice makes your heart skip a beat.

at your approval his hand begins to wander again, trailing over the top of your thigh. his finger slowly make their way down and you shiver, your hand stilled against his abdomen as you anticipate his next move.

you take this moment to get a good look at him; you’d been too shy to stare earlier on the beach, unsure how things were going to go. but now that he’s on top of you, shirtless and obviously just as eager as you are, you let your gaze roam unabashedly across his body. your eyes glide over his torso, the hollow slope of his collarbones and his hardened nipples, the deep-set grooves of his abs and the faint lines of his ribs beneath his skin. you want to reach out to touch him and run your hands over every inch of him, but you’re trying to be patient. and although you know your time here is limited, it seems like jun is only just getting started.

his fingers finally make it to your inner thighs, tracing the area around your pussy, but it’s still not close enough for your liking. you wiggle a little to try and encourage him, whining softly and letting out a little plea. his lips quirk up and he nods, his grip on the back of your neck tensing and tangling in your hair. 

his fingers finally brush against your entrance and you gasp, writhing at how gentle his touch is. he dips his middle finger into your heat before pulling it back out, trailing upwards to your clit to circle it for a moment before heading back down and repeating the process. it’s barely enough, yet it leaves you breathless almost instantly.

he’s staring down between your legs with an intense focus, spreading your arousal around before sinking back into you for more. and just when you think you can’t take it anymore, he pushes his finger in deeper, holding it still for a second even though you’ve already adjusted to it. he waits until you start moving, arching your back and trying to get him to go further, before he adds his ring finger and begins slowly thrusting both fingers in and out together.

you whimper and curse under your breath, trying to roll your hips to match his rhythm. he starts to curl his knuckles and you swear you see stars, despite the fact that he’s barely moving at all.

after a moment when you’ve regained the ability to breathe normally again you start to move your hand back against his bulge, shaky fingers dipping beneath the waistband of his shorts. you wrap your hand around him and your eyes widen at the thickness, the heavy weight of him in your hand and how you’re sure he must be aching by now. you feel the way his cock jerks when you squeeze ever so slightly, his fingers inside you freezing for a split second as his brain tries to process before he plunges them in even deeper, curling into you with even more fervor than before.

you hold him tighter and run your thumb over his tip, swollen and leaking with precum. he gets a little noisier with every move you make, unable to contain the pleasure he gets even from this. even the smallest touches from each other have both of you on edge in a way you’ve never felt before, drawn to each other like no one you’ve ever had before.

his clothes in the way are starting to frustrate you, so after another second you release his cock and move your hand up to the waistband of his shorts instead, trying to tug them down but it’s difficult from the position you’re both laying in.

“please,” you pant out desperately after having little success, and he obliges, pushing his shorts away as fast as possible before resuming his motions. he’s still almost completely ignoring himself as he continues to focus on you and only you, and his complete devotion gives you another boost of confidence.

now freed, his hard cock slaps against your thigh and you moan happily at finally being able to see all of him. it looks even better than it felt, thick veins bulging out across his length and his tip flushed a deep red. you wrap your hand around him once more, flicking your wrist as you start to jerk up and down.

his fingers curl upwards to massage the spot that makes your eyes roll back, and if you had any functioning thoughts left you would’ve marvelled at the fact that he was able to find it so easily, but you’re too busy arching your back against his pillow to think about that.

he can feel you starting to clench harder around him, making his fingers stutter inside you, so he pushes his other hand down on your hip to stop you from moving so much. he pulls his fingers out and your eyes dart back up to his face for an explanation, unable to stop the whimper that escapes from you at the loss, but the look in his eyes instantly puts you at ease. you can already tell he knows what he’s doing, and somehow he seems to know exactly what you need, so for once you don’t mind sitting back and letting someone else call the shots.

“can i fuck you now?” he murmurs, and it takes you a second to even hear what he said because you’re shocked at how low and rough his tone is since the last time you heard him speak. he wipes his fingers against the inside of your thigh as he waits for your reply, and you shiver at the cool wetness on your skin.

the best you can manage is a stuttered “yes”, and without a word of acknowledgement he pulls you off the bed, guiding you off your back and onto your hands and knees.

you let out a squeak at the sudden change but you let it happen, and a second later you hear his voice beside you, his breath warm against your ear. “still okay?” he asks, and despite the gruffness in his voice you can still hear the soft edge to his words.

“yeah,” you repeat, suddenly losing the ability to say anything else to express your pleasure, but somehow you know he understands. your stomach flutters at the low tone of his voice, steady and calm but so full of warmth and lust.

you feel the heat from his face move away from your skin, and you know he’s sitting up on his knees behind you. his hands slide down your sides, reaching under you to cup your boobs with both hands as he groans at the feeling. you let out a matching whine, pushing your hips back against him to feel his hard length against the soft flesh of your ass.

his hands still holding your breasts, he leans down over you to keep you flush to his body, your back pressed against his chest. he presses a kiss in between your shoulder blades, letting his tongue trace lightly over the ridges of your spine.

you grind backwards against him harder, your body on fire from his kisses as he starts to suck gently at the back of your shoulder. you’re not sure if it’s hard enough to leave marks, but you kind of hope they do, because then you’d be sure this encounter wasn’t a dream. what other explanation is there for the fact that you’ve not only met the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life, but that you’re currently on your hands and knees in his bed as he runs his lips over every single inch of you, waiting for him to fuck you? it’s too good to be true.

but it is true, and you know it when he pulls away to brush your hair to the side and expose more of your back for him. his fingers are still so gentle against your skin, his touch heavy but soft, and it makes you even more desperate for him.

after a while he lets go of you and leans back, taking his cock in his hand and gently tapping it against your ass. you groan and fall forward, pressing your face into the pillows and arching your hips up into the air. his hands slide down your sides, gripping your waist with a low groan as he leans forward to kiss the side of your neck again.

he finally pushes all the way into you, and it feels so good it takes your breath away for a second. you can feel your walls throbbing around him, struggling to adjust to the feeling of being so full in the best way, a way you haven’t felt this strongly in so long. it’s a feeling like no other, and it makes you wonder why you ever settled for anything else before this.

his hands are all over you like he can’t decide what to do first, but after a while they settle at your hips and give them an encouraging squeeze, waiting patiently for you to set the pace. finally you bring yourself to move, tipping forward to let him slide out of you just a bit before you lean back into him.

he adapts quickly to your rhythm, thrusting in and out and matching your pace, using his grip on your waist for leverage to push himself deep inside with every stroke.

“fuck,” he moans under his breath, finally breaking the silence, and with just that one sound you feel yourself starting to let go.

the words tumble out of your mouth and you ball your fists into his sheets, clinging to the bed to keep you grounded while your head is spinning. “please, please, yes—”

everything finally hits you all at once, like a tidal wave pouring over you as you fall forward and bury your face into the pillow with a broken whimper.

“don’t stop, please,” you whine breathlessly. your words are muffled by the pillow, but you can tell he’s heard them because his grip on your hips tightens even more, slamming into you with just as much force as before and carrying you through your orgasm.

jun has to bite his lip not to sail right over the edge with you, focusing all his energy on holding himself back until he feels your body go limp all at once, the waves finally subsiding and you let out a deep, pleasured exhale. he’s so close he can practically taste it, his skin flushed and damp with sweat and his abs burning with exertion. only once he’s absolutely sure that you’ve finished cumming does he let himself break, pulling out as fast as he can and wrapping his fist around his length with all the energy he has left.

he moans weakly at the loss of your tight, warm walls hugging him so perfectly, but the view as he jerks himself over you all but makes up for it. the sight of your ass pressed flush against his thighs, your lower back arched and on display like a gorgeous blank canvas, and it gives him such a rush until he can’t hold on anymore.

the warm, sticky liquid hits your back and you whimper into the pillow, instinctively lifting your hips even more towards him. his cum spurts out in thick ropes, painting your skin and pooling in the little divot at the base of your spine, running down your ass until it feels like you’re soaked in it.

he finally pulls back and lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding in, groaning as he sees you sitting still on the bed with your hips in the air. you feel the bed shift with his weight as he gets up, but you don’t pay any attention to it as you focus on trying to steady your breathing instead. something in your gut tells you to stay put, and sure enough, a minute later you hear the sink running and then feel the cool fabric of a damp washcloth brushing over your back.

he lays his hand on your ass and gently gives it a little squeeze to signal that he’s finished, and you finally fall over onto your side. you’re coasting on cloud nine, and everything feels both dulled and hypersensitive at the same time. the whir of the overhead fan is a little more prominent now, and the quiet drone echoes around in your brain.

“do you need water? or do you want a snack, or something?” jun asks, and while his voice still has a touch of shakiness as he’s recovering himself, you can tell his tone is back to the gentle and polite sound you’ve become used to hearing from him.

you shake your head, and he hums softly in acknowledgement as he points to the nightstand on the side of the bed closest to you. “there’s an extra water bottle there, if you need it. i haven’t opened it.”

you nod against the sheets, suddenly too tired to even think about forming words. jun climbs back onto the bed next to you, stretching out his long limbs and leaning against the headboard with a satisfied sigh. 

you surprise yourself when your body automatically reaches out for him, curling into his body and laying your hand across his forearm like a weight keeping him close. but what surprises you even more is when he mirrors the action, scooting closer to you and letting your head rest against his stomach. your first thought is that he makes a very comfortable pillow, and you let your eyes fall shut for a moment as your breathing returns to normal, wanting to savor this moment as you collect yourself and prepare to leave.

you open your eyes what feels like minutes later, but when you reach over to check your phone you realize you’ve been asleep for more than an hour. you inhale slowly and swallow, blinking a few times as the sore feeling in your hips reminds you of where you are.

instinctively, you start to panic a little. your friends are probably looking for you. you disappeared without telling anyone, and now you have to get back to your hotel and make sure you have enough time to sleep properly and get ready for the wedding in the morning. never mind that it was probably the best night you’ve ever spent with another person, and never mind that your friends are probably still out partying and haven’t even noticed you missing yet.

you slide off of the bed as quietly as you can, stumbling a little when your feet hit the floor. you crouch down to pick up your swimsuit off the floor and put it on, hopping on one foot as you slip each leg through the holes. it's darker outside now, but the street lamps and the moonlight shining through the sliding glass door that leads to the balcony of his hotel room are bright enough that it still feels like day. you're so focused on getting dressed and mentally running over your to-do list that you completely forget there's another person in the room until you hear his voice cutting through the silence.

“you don’t have to do that, y’know.”

you freeze and look up, your half-buttoned dress hanging loosely from your shoulders, your cheeks burning at the realization you’ve been caught.

jun swings his legs off the bed, crossing the room in a couple of strides before he’s standing in front of you. he’s wearing nothing except for the boxer shorts he threw on right before you fell asleep, and your cheeks flush even harder at the sight, despite the fact that you’ve already seen much more of him than this.

it takes every ounce of restraint you have to keep your eyes from straying, locked on his face before your gaze falls quickly to the floor where your sandals are left in a heap.

you didn’t mean to sneak off. but what else were you supposed to do? you hadn’t meant to fall asleep and stay as long as you did, either, and now you were stuck with the awkward conversation that always comes afterwards. the inevitable hurried goodbyes and uncomfortable tension as you try to put yourself back together and leave as fast as possible.

jun takes a small step closer to you, and despite all the confidence you know he has, it feels almost… tentative. as if you’re meeting for the first time and he isn’t sure whether or not he’s allowed to touch you yet.

there's a lingering feeling that you can't quite put your finger on yet. it's conflicting, because you know you can't stay but everything in you is screaming not to leave. maybe there's something you can do, anything you can do. is it all worth it? to turn your life around in a complete 180 for someone you barely even know— and yet, the last few hours that you’ve spent with him have been incomparably the best of your life.

after a moment he reaches out and starts to finish buttoning your dress for you, his fingers working them back through the loops with just as much care as he did when he was taking them off earlier.

“sorry,” you manage quietly, though you’re not even really sure what you’re apologizing for. a lot of things: sorry for running away, sorry for having feelings you probably shouldn’t be feeling, sorry for knowing this won’t work out despite the way you really, really wish it could.

but he just shakes his head as he finishes buttoning the last button. “i took it off. i can help you put it back on, too.” you can tell he knows what you had actually meant, but he’s ignoring it either for your sake or his. something about his words feels so easy, like all the problems in your head don’t mean anything anymore. here you are, an anxious and awkward and confused mess, and there he is, smoothing out the wrinkles in your dress like it’s something he’s been doing all his life.

he adjusts the strap on your shoulder with a gentle pat, but his hands linger for a few seconds longer than they should, and you lift your eyes to meet his. “can i kiss you again?” he asks quietly, and for some reason his choice of words sticks with you. not one final kiss, not a goodbye kiss, just again. like he’s refusing to admit this will probably be the last time you’ll ever see each other.

and you nod, and his hands slide up to cup your cheeks and pull you back into his lips, just as warm and just as soft and just as familiar as the first time. there’s something so innocent about kissing him, even in the midst of a complicated and confusing mess of emotions that makes you second guess everything. somewhere in the back of your mind you vaguely register that this is the last time you’ll ever kiss him, but as long as his lips are on yours it doesn’t matter. you’ll figure out how to deal with all that later; for now, the only thing you’re concerned about is the way he grips your chin and pulls you even closer.

it feels like hours later when you finally pull away, letting out a slow exhale as you try to blink yourself back to reality, and you know what has to happen now. “can you find your hotel on your own? do you want me to walk back with you?” jun asks, and you can feel the hesitancy in his voice.

“it’s not far,” you sigh quietly, turning away to slip your feet into your sandals that wait by the bed where you’d taken them off earlier. you should’ve said yes. “but… thank you.” your words hold a sincere weight to them, and it’s silent for a few seconds as you cross the room quicker than you want to.

“you could stay,” he says finally, but his hand is already on the doorknob and you both already know the answer. you hate that you have to be the one to tell him no, even though it’s been clear from the start what the outcome would be. you give him a small shake of your head, and he pulls on the knob. 

he stands and stares for a minute, watching you walk down the hallway and praying you’ll turn around. and then you do, glancing back at him over your shoulder, and he almost allows himself to have a little bit of hope that you might come back, even though you both know you can’t. when you find him still standing in the doorway your eyes light up just the slightest bit, and finally you disappear with a tiny little wave.

the door clicks shut again, and the silence that follows is louder than anything he’s heard all day.

“and you didn’t even get this guy’s number?!”

you wince at the tone in jeonghan’s voice, rubbing the back of your shoulder guiltily. “his name, either.”

“even after the magic old lady said all that shit about soulmates?”

“she didn’t say that!” you huff. your tone rises almost defensively, although it probably has no reason to. she didn’t say anything about being soulmates… right? “she said something like, ‘keep your eyes open for stuff around you’. but he said he didn’t even believe in it, anyway.”

a waiter carrying a tray of champagne glasses walks past, and he snags a couple of them, holding one out to you. “well, it doesn’t sound like you’re keeping your eyes open. it sounds more like your eyes are closed, actually. are you blind?”

you scowl and take the glass from him. “my flight home is tonight, hannie. i’m not gonna see him again.” you take a sip, letting it sit in your mouth for a second before you swallow. “and besides, he said he was here for a wedding, too. he could be from anywhere in the world. it would be impossible to find him.”

“doesn’t hurt to at least try.” you both stop in front of a circular table covered in flowers, with a little placard next to one of the plates with jeonghan’s name on it. “i guess this is my table. you want me to help you look for yours?”

you shake your head, pointing to a table a little ways away. “i saw mine on the way in, it’s over there.”

“whatever,” he hums at you, but you know he’s just teasing. “i still wouldn’t blame you if you ditched and ran off to try and find him.”

“not happening!” you call over your shoulder as you walk away, matching his playful tone. but you can’t help but feel like maybe he’s right.

jun taps his fingers against the table, staring mindlessly at the bubbles floating in his glass of champagne. he’s stuck in his head— no, that’s not right. that’s not the problem. you’re stuck in his head. it’s nearly a full day later and he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you, the taste of your lips, the feel of your breasts in his hands, the scent of the shampoo in your hair. if that wasn’t the most perfect hookup in the history of hookups, then he doesn’t wanna know what is.

he still feels bad for not even paying attention during the ceremony, because he was too busy imagining you and him up there on the altar kissing instead. god, what he wouldn’t give for another kiss like that. but just like you, he knows it never would’ve worked out, and despite the what-ifs that are chewing him up inside and the fact that he definitely, absolutely, totally would’ve tried to make it work however large the distance was, he knows it’s probably for the better. even if it means he’s gonna spend the rest of his life pining after a girl he met on vacation for less than a single day, and he’ll never even know your name.

he takes a swig of his champagne and tries to put on a cheery face. this is a wedding, after all, and he can’t afford to spend all his time pouting when he’s in a beautiful city by the seaside enjoying delicious food and near perfect weather.

and then he sees you.

not really, of course, because it’s probably the champagne going to his head after chugging the majority of his glass like a frat boy at a college party. but then he blinks, and it really is you, wandering around for a second before you sit down at a table on the other side of the venue, wearing a soft blue dress that’s even prettier than the one he saw you in yesterday.

he blinks again, not fully believing that it’s you and not just the combined effect of the alcohol and his daydreams, but you’re still there when he opens his eyes again. and he knows it’s you, because he can see the faint hickies on your back and shoulders that you clearly tried to hide with makeup but couldn’t fully reach.

the chances that he’d see you again—not even that, but the chances that you’d be attending the very same wedding he was—must be one in a billion. maybe even more. yet there you are, picking at your nail and staring wistfully at your empty plate as you wait for the reception to start.

he stares for another minute, just to make sure you’re actually real, before he stands up and makes his way to the terrace at the back of the venue where the groom is standing next to a tower of cupcakes.

“gyu,” he greets him, “hey. are we allowed to switch tables?”

“i… don’t think so?” mingyu hums, a little off guard by the sudden question. “i made sure we put you next to hao, but—”

“if i give you twenty bucks, can you put me at table 8 instead?” jun’s eyes flicker with desperation, and he has to force himself not to look back over at you.

mingyu whines apologetically and hesitates, glancing at his bride a little ways away as she talks to a table full of guests. “she did all this planning, jun, i can’t just change everything now…”

“it’s not changing everything.” jun pulls his wallet out of his pants pocket, already rifling through the bills. “i’ll make it a hundred. mingyu, please, just switch me,” he says.

the whine in jun’s voice makes him pause, and he bites his lip as he considers it. on one hand, he could have his brand new wife a little bit mad at him for a while (who’ll probably forgive him the second she gets in bed with him tonight), plus get to help his friend and get an easy hundred dollars out of it. or, on the other hand… he could not help him, and his wife would never know, and jun would probably hate him for some unknown reason even though he doesn’t think jun has a single bone in his body capable of hating anybody. the decision is easy.

mingyu takes the bills from jun’s hand and stuffs them in his pocket before anyone can notice. “go ahead,” he says, tossing his head in the direction of the table. “i don’t know what it is you want, but don’t let anybody see you.”

“thanks! i owe you!” jun grins and hugs him, letting out a noise almost like a squeal before he turns and dashes away.

you’re barely paying attention to the reception anymore as you sit with your chin in your hands, again mentally running over all the things you need to pack and how on earth you’re going to be able to board your flight tonight and leave everything behind. the beaches, the city… and him. how are you supposed to just get on a plane and get on with your life, knowing that he’s out there somewhere in the world, and you’re never going to see him again. 

you’re trying not to sulk, but you can’t help the way your mood has been sour all morning, already filled with regrets and you haven’t even left yet. maybe you should’ve skipped the wedding altogether and spent another day in his bed, wrapped up between his sheets and lying in his arms. but then the rational part of your brain reminds you that he was also in town for a wedding, so even if he’d wanted to or even been okay with doing that, he probably had other plans anyway.

you’re still trying to figure out what to do about your hopeless situation when you hear a sound close behind you. it startles you into putting a smile on your face, preparing yourself to socialize although you really aren’t in the mood to.

“is this seat taken?” jun asks as he pulls out the chair to your left and sits down.

your brows furrow in confusion, trying to place the familiar voice, until you turn around and your jaw drops when you see who it belongs to.

you stare at him in shock, your eyes darting back and forth between his trying to figure out what to say. “you’re not joshua,” is the best you can come up with as your mouth hangs open and you whip your head around to check the list of names assigned to this table. you recognize them all, yet here he is: the nameless stranger you’ve fallen so helplessly in love with in so short an amount of time.

he smiles at your reaction, and it’s such a genuine smile that you know he’s feeling exactly the way you do right now. “i guess you’re right. i’m not.” he brushes the name card in front of him to the side and sets his own down in its place instead before he holds out his hand to shake. “it’s nice to meet you. i’m jun.”

you pause for a minute, staring at his hand. you can’t believe this is real, you can’t believe he’s real; you’d almost been able to convince yourself that the whole encounter last night was a fever dream, if you hadn’t woken up in the morning with a soreness between your legs that screamed that it definitely was not a dream.

finally you reach out and take his hand, and even in that little touch you can tell it really is him, from the way your heart picks up when you feel the familiar softness of his skin and the gentle squeeze that sends goosebumps down your arm.

“it’s nice to meet you, too.”

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

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[fiber-optic-alligator]

Ready Or Not, Here I Come

Pairing: TFP Knockout x Human Reader

WARNING: This story contains mentions of soft vore. If this makes you uncomfortable, please do not read this story.

Word Count: 2875

Summary: Being kidnapped by a giant alien robot who also happens to be one of the most narcissistic assholes on this side of the galaxy wasn't something you planned for today. Unfortunately, things happen, and now you must hide and escape from a mech who certainly doesn't want to let you go.

Knockout fic time ya'll eat up. This is actually my first time writing for him and I did A LOT of research on his mannerisms and personality to make sure I got him right. I also really wanted to play into the fearplay factor and show how terrifying it would be for one of us humans to be hunted by what is essentially an apex predator that has its notoriety spread to numerous planets who have interacted with Cybertronians, especially Decepticons. Feedback and comments are much appreciated! Enjoy trying to escape from this handsome idiot :)

You are screwed.

Like, absolutely, positively screwed.

You huddle in the corner of the empty boxcar, your entire body shivering from cold and fear. The evening is dark, with no light except from the moon to illuminate the deserted trainyard around you. Your breath is labored and quick, coming out in puffs of dragon’s smoke while you tremble and hug yourself tighter, sinking into the little warmth your winter coat provides.

  You feel a vibration pulse beneath you.

  All of your senses are on overdrive. You go still while you strain your ears for the slightest sound of movement, holding your breath and pressing your hands into your forearms.

  Silence.

  There’s only the roar of your own heart.

  Maybe it was from a car, you think to yourself. Or a truck. There’s a road not far from here. It had to be that.

  Convincing yourself you are safe is not working.

  Your body still shakes, and your instincts know, they can sense that you aren’t out of the woods yet. The thing that took you is still out there.

  You want to mutually sob and laugh from the utter disbelief of it. Monsters are real. And you are being hunted by one.

  “Boom.”

  The boxcar trembles.

  Your heart stops and you feel the chilling sensation of numbness prickle over your skin.

  The night is silent.

  “Boom.”

  Footsteps echo in the distance.

  They aren’t human. They’re too heavy, too loud.

  He knows where you are. He’s coming for you.

  Panic sets in. Scrambling to your feet, you leave your little corner and poke your head out of the boxcar’s open door. Fog has set in and turned the trainyard into an eerie maze with paths draped in mist. Your sense of direction is thrown off by the hazy images of the other boxcars all around you. Everything looks exactly the same. This place is huge; how are you supposed to find your way out of it? You can’t even recall the way you took to get to this point!

  “Boom.”

  He’s getting closer.

  “Shitshitshit.” You turn in a circle and pull at your hair while your chest constricts and you feel a familiar tugging from behind your eyes that means oncoming tears. You don’t know what to do. What can you do? How are you supposed to get out of this? You're running out of time!

  Don’t panic. That’s rule number one. Panicking will only make you an easier target. You force your arms to drop. Inhaling deep through your nose and letting it out of your mouth, you close your eyes and urge yourself to relax.

  You will find a way out of here. When the creature brought you here, you saw a gas station about a mile away down the main road that borders the trainyard. If you can make it there, someone will have to help you. You just have to remain unseen until then.

  “BOOM.”

  The boxcar shakes. You wobble a little, and your hope drops.

  “Helloooo!” A prim male voice announces itself. “Little human! I know you're here!”

  You duck out of view and press yourself against the boxcar’s wall. Footsteps echo with the smooth whirrr of mechanical joints moving a massive robotic body through the alleyways of train cars.

  You don’t understand why he’s doing this. You were minding your own business, going about your life like any regular person does, when all of a sudden this…car zoomed straight for you and flashed you with a blinding blue light. Everything had gone black then, and when you woke up, you were trapped in a vehicle with no driver. A vehicle that was talking. Thank god it was still a vehicle with a steering wheel and brakes, because you managed to get into the front seat and crash it into a ditch. That’s how you ended up here. You were running and hiding from a car-turned-giant robot who’s probably pissed you scuffed up his paint job.

  You hear a growl that sends shivers down your spine.

  Okay. He’s definitely pissed.

  “Oh, I know you fleshies love your little games,” the robot lilts, “but I’m not particularly in the mood to play one. So, either you come out now, or I will have to force you out of hiding. Trust me human, you really don’t want to know what I’m like when I get serious.”

  You have to get out of here. If you don’t run now, he’s going to find you, and you’ll never have another chance to escape again. Gathering up what little courage you have, you once again peek outside.

  A pair of massive red eyes stare right back at you.

  A scream is ripped from your lungs. You fall flat on your ass, pushing yourself away from the giant robot looking in. The mech cackles. “Oh, that was priceless! You fleshies are so easy to startle!”

  “F-Fuck off!” you yell hoarsely at him. “Get the fuck away from me!”

  He laughs again and reaches a clawed hand into the boxcar. You shriek and fumble to avoid the oncoming digits. The corner once again becomes your safe haven when you curl up into it, trembling like a leaf in the wind.

  The robot smirks. “All bark and no bite, hmm? I was expecting that. All of you fleshbags are the same. You think you're so tough, until something bigger comes along to snap at you.”

  You give him the most withering glare you can muster, but you guess it doesn’t exactly do the job, since he only chuckles. “If you weren’t such a revolting mass of organic waste, I would actually find you rather cute, you know. Ah, shame. And here I was thinking about being rather gentle with you.”

  “W-What do you want with me?!” You stand up on shaky legs that nearly give out beneath you. “Why did you kidnap me? What did I do?”

  “You really want to know the truth?” he asks.

  “Yes, obviously!”

  He shrugs. “Alright. I was bored. I saw you and decided, hey, why not have a little bit of fun before I go? Is that a satisfactory answer for you, human?”

  You blink dumbfoundedly. “So you…you kidnapped me and drove me out into the middle of bumblefuck nowhere because you were bored?!”

  “Well, I hardly think being bored is a simple reason,” he replies matter-of-factly. “Boredom can be quite the bane to one’s existence. It can lead to all sorts of medical complications. Depression, stress, irritable tank syndrome-”

  “Cut the crap!” You interrupt him with a gnash of your teeth. “This isn’t funny! Take me back to where you picked me up, right now!”

  “It’s quite funny to me.” The mech drums his claws idly against the boxcar’s floor. “You know what else is funny? The fact that you actually think you're in control of this situation. Tell me, what if I were to say no?”

  You open your mouth to retort, but find no sound comes out. The mech raises an eyebrow. His shit-eating grin widens. “What, got nothing to say? That’s fine, I really didn’t expect you to have an answer. Here’s the thing: You're not going anywhere right now. So, kick back, relax. Maybe if you're a good little meatbag, I’ll consider letting you go.”

  “I’m not a meatbag!” You're really starting to hate this guy. “I’m a person! A human being!”

  “Human, meatbag, it’s all the same.” He waves a hand dismissively. “Now, are you going to make this easy for yourself? Or are we going to keep up this argument that is not only petty, but also rather meaningless?”

  You slump back down and draw your knees close to your chest, lowering your head a little and wishing you weren’t shaking with fear. The mech takes great delight in this. He inhales deeply and sighs, shuddering ecstatically. “Ah, there it is again. That wonderful scent of terror. It’s absolutely tantalizing.”

  Your head shoots up. “Wait. What?”

  “You heard me. I didn’t take you just because I was bored, you know. I was also on the lookout for a snack.”

  “You…eat humans?” You gape at him, horrified.

  “Not typically. But ever since my home planet decided to, well, blow up ages ago, my kind have had to resort to some…secondary methods in order to survive.”

  “So, you’re-you’re an alien?”

  “No. I’m just a normal Aston Martin.” He oozes narcissism while he runs a hand expressingly down his shoulder armor. “Notice the expensive color? The gold rims? I’m a real work of art, you know. You should appreciate me more.”

  You feel like you are ready to explode. “Be serious! What are you?”

   He rolls his eyes. “Hmph. No sense of humor. Typical humans. Fine, since you want to be such a downer about everything, I’ll tell you. I’m a Cybertronian, fleshbag. My name is Knockout.” He tapped his chest like you were a child he was teaching basic English to. “And you are?”

  You grumble, reluctant to give up your identity, but feeling obligated to since he just revealed his. “It’s…Y/N.”

  “Hm. Y/N. Pretty name.” He smiles. “So, Y/N. Ready to come out of there and face the music?”

  You shake your head fervently. “N-No way!”

  His eyes glint with sinister mischief. “What if we were to play a little game?”

  “I’m not interested in playing any game with you.”

  “Come on. It’s not like you have anything better to do. Just hear me out. I’ll give you twenty Earth minutes to find your way out of here. If you do, I won’t follow you, and I’ll let you go. But if I do find you…” He slowly gouges his claws against the boxcar’s floor. The wood splits and shatters, leaving behind deep, messy wounds. An impending sense of doom fills you.

  “If I do find you, you're mine,” he says. “And you will accept that with no opposition.”

  You stand up in protest. “That's a terrible game!”

  He shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s perfectly reasonable. I’m giving you a chance to prove you aren’t as pathetic as you make yourself look. Come on, what’s the worst that could happen?”

  “The worst that could happen would be me being eaten by a giant fucking alien robot!”

  “You won’t die.” His voice grows uncharacteristically soft. For a moment, you actually think you see a hint of genuineness in his eyes. “I can promise you that. I don’t digest organics. It’s not good for my systems.”

  You scoff. “Yeah, right. As if I’d believe you.”

  “I can prove I’ll be fair with this.” He rises and takes a few steps back. “I’ll stay right here and even give you a head start! How thoughtful of me. I don’t display generosity like this very often, so my advice would be to take advantage of it.”

  You hesitate and consider your odds. If you remain in here, not only are you essentially trapped, but the mech can also easily shake you out. But if you take up his offer…you might actually have a chance to escape.

  The mech taps his foot impatiently. “I don’t have all night, Y/N. Come out, or I’ll drag you out.”

  Slowly, you inch out of the boxcar. He towers over you, a massive red giant who, now that you fully perceive him, looks more and more alien by the second. Cherry red and silver with accents of yellow peeking out between joints that come together to create something that should not be possible. He’s bulky, yet slim at the same time, with spiky points neatly jutting up from his knees and shoulders. The finials on his head give him a sharp, shark-like look. There’s an equal mixture of danger and beauty surrounding him, and it makes you even more uncomfortable with him being around you. You full heartedly believe he could snap you up in one bite if he wishes.

  He tilts his head with an air of curiosity and offers you a charming smile.  “There you are,” he coos. “Look at you. I knew you could do it. Good little human. You like what you see?”

  You have to look away so he won’t see the way your cheeks flush red. “No, I don’t,” you shakily retort. “Don’t patronize me.”

  “Aww, you're flustered. Don’t be embarrassed. There’s no shame in admitting you're attracted to me. I’m a real knockout when it comes to looks.”

  “Oh my god.” You slap a hand over your face. “Oh my god. You are horrible.”

  Knockout throws his head back and laughs. “Get used to it, fleshy. Your feelings will grow for me sooner or later. Now, go on, scurry along now. Remember, five minutes and I’m coming for you.”

  You can’t believe you’ve agreed to this. You don’t want to believe this is happening. A giant alien robot from outer space wants to hunt you down and take you away from your life. How the hell could your day have gone so wrong?

  You find yourself running. You’ve agreed to this game. Now you have to go through with it. You don’t want to know what will happen if you don’t.

  Your feet clumsily hit the ground and create loud, uneven steps. Too loud. Too obvious. How long has it been? A minute? Or thirty seconds? Nervous sweat beads your brow. Hiding within another boxcar would be too easy. You must use this maze to your advantage. There is no elaborate plan of deception rising up within your mind. When you spontaneously decide to shimmy your way beneath a boxcar, only one thing is certain: you just need to hide.

  The tracks are cold and uncomfortable to lay over. You squirm and hiss through your teeth when the metal presses up against your stomach and legs, but you bear with it and remain in place. There is no sound. Just your breath. Just your heart.

  “Boom. Boom. Boom.”

  Mighty steps shake the ground forcefully. A twin pair of mechanical red-and-silver feet stomp past you, a methodical movement thundering down the line of cars as that of an animal pacing back and forth with hungry impatience, watching first one boxcar and then another, alert for movement inside. There is laughter beyond your cover, mocking you.

  The thunder fades to simple vibrations. You must move. You roll out and stand, going in the opposite direction as Knockout. Steady footsteps. You must remain calm. But your breathing is still uneven and your heart still fights within your chest like a caged bird. You are afraid. So, so afraid.

  “Scccccccrrraaape.”

  Metal screeches. You can hear him dragging his claws across a boxcar’s top.

  “I can smell you, you know,” he gloats sardonically. Hair prickles up the back of your neck. “Do you know what you smell like?” he continues. “Do you want to know?”

  “Boom. Boom. Boom.”

  “The purest energon from the richest of mines. So delicious, so tasty. Oh, I cannot wait to get my jaws around you, little human.”

  You aimlessly turn a corner and see a hulking vermillion frame right in front of you.

  You just…freeze. Like a deer caught in the headlights, you can do nothing but stare at the gigantic robot. He’s crouched on one knee, peering into a boxcar with his back turned to you. You make the terrible mistake of releasing a soft gasp. It’s no louder than the faintest of whispers, but he hears. Of course he hears.

  The robot’s head snaps towards you. Unblinking crimson eyes search for you in the dark, pupils expanding and contracting repeatedly. You remain still. The tension in your muscles burns, yet you refuse to take your eyes off of him.

  He is a piece of tech beyond your understanding. But even robotics can have trouble seeing through fog.

  The mech inhales deeply through his mouth. His pupils become so large they nearly swallow up the red of his eyes. A wide, toothy grin spreads across his face.

  “Hm. Using the fog to your advantage. Clever little one. You're making this much more fun.” He stands. “Unfortunately for you, this liquid vapor does not hide everything.”

  You are whipcord tight, standing there with your feet nailed to the ground. There is a disconnection between your brain and your limbs. The mech has you under a spell, crafting your fear into a paralyzing weapon. You are too terrified to even utter a sound.

  He approaches you, slowly. You have to crane your neck to meet his gaze when he stands directly over you. “My, my,” he croons. “Such a fragile, delicate little thing. You make this too easy for me. Oh yeah, I’m definitely keeping you.”

  Your voice cracks a little. “I thought I was just a revolting mass of organic waste?”

  “You are. But, I’m willing to change my mind. After all, you’ve made this such an entertaining night for me. I’ve come to realize that…I need to see your fear again. This can’t be a one-time thing. It makes me far too…hungry.”

  Your hands shake when you raise them pleadingly. “H-How hungry?”

  He smiles wickedly, tongue running over his teeth. “Starved.”

  You don’t have time to even think about screaming before he lunges, claws caging you in and mouth descending for you, ready to swallow you whole.

[xxmaxwellxx]

Hello! Me again! I’ve finished writing another story. Again, any constructive criticism and feedback is appreciated! I’m also thinking of making another part to both the stalker story and this one. If anyone is interested in something like that please comment, dm me or send a request! As always sorry for any errors, I’m slightly dyslexic and if I missed anything in the warnings please tell me so I can fix it! (Also if anyone has any requests please don’t hesitate to send one in! I’m trying to grow my account and be better at writing so requests are very helpful!)

Tw: merman, general Yandere behavior (body horror? No gore just a very unique merman)

Gn reader (referred to with they/them pronouns!)

The seagulls screeching above are oddly comforting. Over my time as a researcher, I've learned that if the seagulls aren’t flying overhead, a storm is near. And luckily for me, the seagulls are in the sky and very vocal. I grab a shrimp from my dads cooler and throw it up towards the birds, watching one swoop down and grab it before joining the others. I always admired how intelligent they were, following boats in the hopes of getting food. I reach back into the cooler for another shrimp before my dad yells at me, “Hey!” I whip around at his voice, “Don't waste all our bait on some gulls! If you keep feeding them, they're going to swoop down and eat all our shrimp!” I giggle at his words. He's always lectured me about feeding the birds. The boat slows to a stop and my dad leaves the wheelhouse and lowers the anchor as I take my sweater off and put my flippers on. I wore my favorite sweater over my wetsuit, the wind out at sea surprisingly cold.

My dad sets up his fishing rod at the edge of the boat and I go to the other side to avoid his fishing line. He always fishes when I go diving, not to eat but to keep himself entertained while I'm gone. He never keeps the fish, just writing down the type of fish, how big and how old he thinks it is before throwing it back. He has multiple notebooks he keeps on his boat from years back when mom would go diving. She was always my role model, she was the reason I got my degree in marine biology and my scuba permit. She was the reason behind gaining a passion for fish, the reason my room was filled to the brim with marine animal stuffed animals. She had to stop diving, when I was young she got sick, and it was too dangerous for her, but that's why I'm here. I'm going to continue her studies for her, so she can still see the ocean she loved so much from her bed.

Putting my goggles and mouthpiece on, I excitedly roll off the deck and into the water. Right below me is a magnificent coral reef filled to the brim with color. Hustling and bustling with fish of all colors of the rainbow. Clown fish in the anemones, iridescent parrot fish, yellow butterfly fish, stripped Angelfish, a few yellow finned Damselfish, Surgeonfish and small Goby all swimming in and out, over and under the coral. I take out my camera and snap a few photos, not just for mom, but also for the other researchers back at the lab. They sent me out with a few videography robots to study the effects global warming has had on the reefs, but I don't think they'd mind if I snuck a few to my mom. I drift further and further away from my dads boat, distracted by taking photos.

A few photos of the vibrant parrot fish, a few of clown fish seeking residence in sea anemones, a few of the small goby fish and a lot of the vibrant coral. I keep wandering further, always keeping the boat in view when something catches my eye. A hole. A large hole. No, not a hole, a sea cave. I peer inside and see dots of color. I wouldn't hurt to venture in, would it? For science, I tell myself, for research and the betterment of knowledge, I tell myself, but I know I'm just too curious for my own good. Upon my entrance I see various seaweed, algae and sea sponge species. The further I go, the less light. The less light, the more things produce their own. I see a few small fish and algae glow but something big catches my eye, something really big, too big, and oh so colorful. Swirls of orange and blue and too humanoid to be a fish, but too fish to be human. It has what looks like hair, long and glowing blue on one side and orange on the other, with many streaks of the opposite color mixed in. a long tail with swirls of the same colors, and it goes up it's body onto what looks like a torso and arms. It has arms? Why would a fish have arms? Cave dweller or not, fish are not supposed to have arms.

I quickly pull out my camera, I have to document this. What I didn't account for was the automated flash, it has a light sensor and if it's too dark, the flash turns on. Suddenly the cave is lit up with light from my camera. I panic and fiddle with my camera, trying desperately to turn off the automated flash, but my efforts are in vain. A clawed hand grabs the lens, and I turn my attention to the creature in front of me. A wave of fear washes over me as I look up to a humanoid face, my heart rate picks up as I notice the scowl he wears. I start to hyperventilate as he leans in closer and reaches a hand out towards my face. A clawed hand coming towards my face. He's going to hurt me, isn't he? My fight or flight kicks in and in my panic I choose fight.

I quickly raise my legs and kick him in the stomach, making him curl into himself and let go of my camera and propelling me away from him. While he's distracted, I grab my falling camera and rush out of the cave and towards the boat. I didn't notice how late it's gotten, the sun setting over the horizon as I pull my self out of the water and onto the ledge. I quickly dislodge my mouthpiece and throw my goggles further onto the boat, trying to regulate my breathing once again. What was that? Human? Fish? Some kind of sick hybrid? Should I tell dad? Tell the team? Did I even get a clear picture of that thing? If news gets out, what will the press say? What will the scientists do? If it has the conscience of a human, it will be cruel to report on it. What if someone hurts them? Kills them? What do I even do?

My thoughts are broken by my dads voice, “Everything alright?” he always asks that after I come up, but he sounds worried this time. “Yeah… Yeah, I'm fine.” I'm lying through my teeth, I know it, and I'm pretty sure he knows with the look he gives me “Well, if you're sure. I made dinner while you were gone. It's on the table whenever you're ready.” he tips his hat and walks away, presumably to go eat the aforementioned dinner. I sigh and take off my oxygen tank, hanging it with the others before going below deck to take a shower.

My dad snores in his bed as I eat the dinner he made. Vegetable dumplings with a side of soy sauce and ramen. Simple, easy to make and oh so good. He always made the best food. I'm scrolling through my camera roll as I eat, checking if my team can use any of the photos I took when it pops up. I almost drop my dumpling when I see it. The creature on my camera roll, slightly blurry but still visible with glowing eyes. I want to throw up. He's objectively beautiful, but he's earth shaking. Merfolk aren't real, they're evolutionary impossible, and yet here he is. I suddenly don't have an appetite anymore, it's too much to handle. I put my food in the fridge and lay in my bed. What am I going to tell my team? What am I going to tell dad? That despite every odd on the planet, merfolk are real, and I had an encounter with one? They're going to think I'm crazy, right? What about the picture? Would that really be enough proof for them? Would they accuse me of editing the picture? What possible excuse could I come up with to explain it? If they do believe me, I don't want them to hurt him. Would it just be best to delete it? Export the photo off the camera and keep it for myself? These thoughts keep me up well past my bedtime.

Something is off. I feel like I'm being watched. I turn my gaze from the ceiling to the glass floor. It's him. The thing from the cave. It smiles, reveling razor sharp teeth. What have I gotten myself into?

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

They're mine. It was set in stone when we met.

When I heard of the cave shells, I knew I had to check it out. Supposedly there were shells that glow in the dark and I just had to get my hands on one. Avoiding the moray and brushing aside small lantern fish, I make my way deep into the cave. I've been there for a solid hour, going from tunnel searching the sand. I was getting frustrated. Where are those shells?! A flash catches my attention. Whipping around, I see a human. They look exactly like the rumors. Humans are real? And what's that box in their hand? What was that light? Was it a mating signal? Do they like me? I swim over to investigate the box, laying my hand on it, the thought crosses my mind. This was probably a mating gift! Immediately after I realize what it is, they kick me and swim off with the box. Humans must be a species that want to be chased before they mate!

I quickly swim after them when they go up above the water onto a strange piece of metal. That must be their home! My suspicions are proven correct when I see them sitting in a strange object and eating. Merfolk only eat in their homes, so it must be the same for humans. They crawl onto something squishy and cover themselves with something.

I dare to get closer to them, my face bonks against something clear, this must be the glass the other merfolk were talking about. I place my hands upon the glass, watching my mate. Eventually they look down at me, my friend Erin told me humans like when you smile, that smiling was a show of friendliness to humans.

Rest assured, little human, the next time you're in water you will be mine. Our mandarin babies will be so cute!~

(Merman is based off a mandarin fish, look them up! Very unique fish!)

[physalian]

So, I’ve written posts utterly baffled by writers who think tackling the intimate nuances and complexities of minorities/ disabilities/ neurodivergences that they don’t have based on ego and research is just easy and no one will notice. But like… there aren’t rules for any of these demographics. All aces don’t think the same way, that’s why there’s like 20 different specific labels under the ace/demi umbrella.

But the reason I don’t think anyone can get by on research alone if this character’s quirk (for simplicity’s sake) is the whole plot and their defining feature is this: There is no ‘default’ person and the 50s-esque model citizen was a caricature. Odds are somebody isn’t “perfectly normal” just with one little outlier trait. We’re all different mixes and blends so saying “I’m gonna write a gay dude, I read this one blog by a gay dude and I’m an expert” is just. No.

This is also assuming that it’s realistic for your character to be absolutely certain about themselves and can diagnose or label themselves with medical accuracy. We’re all just vibin’, you know? Some might, and kudos to them, still wierd to so confidently write something you researched like cramming the night before a final.

Like, if you tell me you wrote an ace, and you yourself are straight or simply not ace and have no ace friends or relatives and just thought it would be cool, but your book is an intense deep-dive into asexuality, I’d bet very good money that it is not, in fact, a deep dive into asexuality, just your extrapolation based on a modicum of research and your own biases.

You’re missing out on so much personal context. I’m ace. Also, possibly aro? But also unofficially diagnosed as autistic and I can’t get a real diagnosis because reasons. And everyone is different so I don’t know where the boundary lies between “this is an autistic thing” and “this is an ace thing” and “this is an aro” thing. You, intrepid author, can’t expect to articulate that if a real person living with it can’t.

You can’t articulate it, because I can’t articulate it, and I’m probably contradicting myself all over the place in a giant game of mental Twister. Like. Romance sounds great, but I’m also fiercely independent and am too used to doing everything alone to actually picture being a healthy team and not having to carry it like groupwork in high school. That image just does not compute.

Or, romance sounds great, but I can’t love you the way you expect and odds are I’m not going to want to sleep with you… but I’ll watch your favorite TV show with you and I’ll buy you that box of candy that you probably forgot you mentioned wistfully wanting last week and I’ll make sure the fridge is stocked with your favorite snack and I’ll do the driving and I’ll text you memes and funny pictures and song recommendations to make you smile and I’ll do 100 other things desperately trying to make up for the guilt of both wanting you to find me attractive, but not actually finding you attractive, but it's actually finding the effort I make and the choices within my power that I want you to find attractive and not 'nice ass' or whatever, of wanting you around and wanting love, but not wanting sex and I guess if you cheat but it's "just sex" I have to deal because you've got "needs" and you're "normal" and I'm lucky to have you around without putting out. While simultaneously daydreaming about an imaginary person who doesn't expect those 100 other things done from guilt, but I got bills to pay and can't be selfish and, well, that person doesn't exist.

But sure, your ace is gutwrechingly realistic because they're an android or an alien and are incapable of a sex drive anyway and not human because, what? All humans have a sex drive, you donut. You just haven't met the right person yet.

No one is just one thing in isolation and otherwise “perfectly normal”. The arrogance and naivety it takes from so many writers who think this can’t be shocked when the negative feedback comes in. Write inclusively. Do not write the deeply personal struggles of a life you did not live, that someone reading your book can look at and think, wow, I can’t believe how wrong they got it. Do I expect to read a perfect copy of myself in someone else's ace charcater? No. Every ace is different, but there's the "ace" flag for a reason.

[thatbanditqueen]

Basic Training Ch 6

Summary: Bess spends a Friday evening with Elvis on base, and gets excited for the party he invited her to the next day. We learn a little more about Bess' family as she gets ready to meet Elvis' friends, however, things do not go as planned.

Warnings: Fingering, dry humping, descriptions of the ever elusive female orgasm (not when Elvis is around....), and discussions of mental illness.

WC: 8.4 K i tried and failed to stick to my 5 - 6 k goal

My writing is very much influenced by the other women I write with, my lovely sister wives @be-my-ally @vintageshanny @missmaywemeetagain @from-memphis-with-love @ellie-24 @powerofelvis @peskybedtime and @shakerattlescroll give me suggestions, answer my research queries and help me find the will to live and write. Also, thanks to @ab4eva and @lookingforrainbows for their enthusiasm because honestly yes I thrive on engagement with other Elvis fans.

Special shout out to @whositmcwhatsit from whom I have stolen her characterization of Elvis learning what an OC likes as he pleasures her in bed, changing his voice when he is alone with an OC vs. in front of others, using his thumbs to rub OCs backs.... basically I subscribe to the belief that all art is deriative and collaborative and I pinch things unwittingly from everyone who I read regularly so thank you, and sorry, no, I won't ask for permission. I am a bandit queen after all. But if you have read @whositmcwhatsit's stuff you might find some of my characterizations of Elvis familiar and you should probably go read some of her stuff instead. She also alpha'd this for me and gave me lots of feedback and dialogue/plot ideas. But no Jade, I am already too jealous of your talents to give you co-author credit so stop begging me (in my head).

You can read the previous chapters of this fic about Elvis at Fort Hood in 1958 here

This is the playlist I made for this chapter. Kewl kids do that.

Chapter 6: Guided Missiles

Friday, April 11, 1958

7:07 p.m.  on the grounds of Fort Hood, Killeen, TX

Guided missiles, bound to explode

Destroying my heart is your goal

You have succeeded in making me blue

Now I know the enemy is you

The Cufflinks’ “Guided Missiles” played over the radio as Bess navigated her car along the base road, she had just begun to relax her thigh into Elvis’ leg while enjoying how he crooned along into her hair with the song. Then she felt his hand on her inner thigh and bolted upright with a gasp, trying to wiggle him off as she changed gears.

“You are making it hard for me to drive, Tupelo.”

Elvis snickered under his breath, enjoying the way Bess shivered from the way his hand moved her hem up.

“I’m jus’ being helpful, Moo Moo, this skirt’s so goddamn tight, don’t know how you can change gears.”

Bess shook her head as she pulled into the PX parking lot, sliding his hand out of her legs.

“Well, aren’t you chivalrous?”

“Zat’s me, baby.” Elvis’ lips were nibbling her ear. “I’d open your door any day.” Somehow his hand was back between her legs and she gasped when it feathered over her panties.

“My door,” she pushed him off and put the car in park, “is just fine where it is, soldier.”

He grinned at her, and the way he looked down, biting his lip, was so naughty it made Bess tense with longing. She instantly regretted coming here with him, blushing when his eyes met hers, his fingers now caressing her elbow. Their soft touch did not feel any more innocent on her arm than they had on her thigh and she coughed nervously.

“Um, uh, alright, fork it over.”

He arched an eyebrow at her.

“What?“

“You were the one who wanted candy.”

“Bess, I’m not able to carry my wallet during field exercises, an’ I came to meet’cha straight after.”

Bess rubbed his knee playfully and waggled her lips.

“Hmm, Mr. Chivalrous, indeed. Ok, guess I can spring for some Reese’s -”

“Get a bunch, and a few Pepsi colas?”

Bess couldn’t even summon one sarcastic smart aleck retort, her mind was dulled by the way his cheeks lifted up in a boyish excitement. It made her want to grab his face and cover him with a thousand kisses. Instead, she nodded dumbly and managed to make her way out of the car intact, pulling down her skirt. If she tried focusing really hard she was able to walk upright into the commissary.

Once she was a few feet inside, away from Elvis’ hands, her wits returned and, in a matter of minutes, she was at the soda fountain asking the girl behind the counter to add a few more peanut butter cups to her paper bag. 

Walking back out of the shop, Bess folded the top of the bag over itself a few times, enjoying the feel of the sharp crisp edge under her hand. She smiled to herself, thinking of Elvis’ silly grin as he conspiratorially looked around after dinner and whispered in her ear that he was in the mood for something sweet.

Studying Elvis over the last two weeks, Bess found he was not at all what she had expected. He was smart and funny, yet also childlike and sweet and simple. His face greeted her with the same genuine excitement every evening when she met him at the bottom of their dirty, dingy back stairwell. He had asked her to bring the same meal the last three nights in a row, homemade meatloaf on challah bread. And he was content to do the same thing every night: drive around listening to the radio and necking in her car. This trip to PX was the first time they had deviated from their familiar routine and gone anywhere remotely public together.

“So, this is how movie stars indulge in the finer th -”

Bess stopped talking as she sat down and realized Elvis was not in her car. Peering around the parking lot, she saw his side profile a few cars over, sitting between two girls in the back seat of a white Buick. Two giggling girls. Two very pretty, young giggling girls. 

Bristling, Bess took a deep breath and calmly placed the candy next to her, then calmly pulled the handle and then calmly but forcefully slammed her door with a bang. She saw one of the girls look over, a blonde, but Elvis remained lost in conversation, laughing at something the brunette had said. 

Bess wondered if he was even aware she had returned to the car. Not sure what to do, she settled on acting nonchalant and proceeded to fix her lipstick in the rearview mirror, trying to conceal how hard she was straining to hear what they said.

“Course I do, honey, scout’s honor. Yes, that’s right, 16 cars. Well now, what’s the point of making money if you can’t spend it? Wait a minute, huh, now, actually, it’s 15, I just gave my Messerschmitt to my tailor.”

She couldn’t make out the girls' muffled, breathy voices, just Elvis’, which was, for some reason, deeper and much more pronounced now that he had an audience.

“Oh, well now, most people ain’t heard a it, but it’s a German car, a small ‘un, rides on three wheels and goes real fast, boy, real fast, on account of how light it is. Feel like you’re racing in a bubble.” He whistled a high note. “Whooeee, goes right past all the suckers in their regular cars.  But, well, heck, I hardly got to drive it, though, so naw, I don’ miss it. I was away so much, when the guy who makes my suits wouldn’t shut up ‘bout it, I finally told him, I said, ‘Bernie,’ I said, ‘Ya can have my Messer but you have to let me pick out ev’ry thing I want in ya store here. Today’… Yeah, it was a good deal, man, I cleaned him out.”

Bess rolled her eyes and sat there waiting while Elvis chuckled and answered more questions from the girls. Then, ever the chivalrous, attentive gentleman, asked them about themselves, wondering where they went to school, what they did for fun, and whether they had any boyfriends

“Don’ lie now.” She heard his voice get flirty. “I don’t believe it, pretty girls like you? I bet you’re breaking all the guys' hearts here.”

“Do you have a girlfriend?” one asked him, and Elvis laughed.

“Nah, no one special. See, I'm so busy, and I’m always on the move, it wouldn’t be fair to any gal to for me try and settle down now, ‘specially now I’m off to Germany. I’m just playin’ the field. Why, are you asking me out? Honey, ain’t fair to tease me like that.”

Elvis sat and talked with them for ten more minutes or so, but Bess was only half listening. His words about how he didn’t have a special girl played over again in her mind. Bess started eating the peanut cups impatiently as the idea of how insignificant she was to Elvis snowballed in her mind. She was just a girl he met during basic training, one of the many girls whose car he felt he could just walk up to and sit in. One of, what, hundreds he had probably kissed in dark corridors, movie theaters, recording studios, cars, motel rooms? Completely interchangeable with any other girl. Completely interchangeable with these silly, stupid girls he was flirting with while she waited.

What the fuck was she doing with her life? Baking bread and meatloaf and packing a picnic dinner to schlep on base every night? Curling her hair before bed and waking up early so she could take extra care to look nice?  While he treated her like a pathetic doormat he could send off to buy him candy and then keep waiting for what now, twenty minutes? Bess had half a mind to drive off, and the only thing that stopped her was her pride. She would not let him know that he had upset her, she was not going to have a tantrum like a child.

The peanut butter and chocolate had hardly begun to melt when Bess threw another candy in her mouth and told herself she was being silly. Those girls had probably called him over, everyone in Killeen was on Elvis alert, and he was probably just being polite and humoring them. She ate some more of the candy and felt a little better, telling herself it was harmless. And what, she expected him to spill his guts about his love life with two kids? And so what if it was true? She knew he had other girlfriends,  she’d seen pictures of him out around town with stars like Natalie Wood, Yvonne Lime, and Anita Wood in the movie magazines. Elvis' playboy lifestyle hadn’t seemed to matter this morning, because she knew they were just having fun. She was having fun, she reminded herself again, and she shouldn’t get worked up.

But it was ten more minutes before Elvis said his goodbyes, and Bess’ ire rose again as he lingered over their car window, making them promise to meet him at the base movie theater next week.

“What about you, Moo Moo, you like Danny Kaye?”

Bess looked at him coolly as he got into her car, then back at the windshield as she shifted the car into reverse.

“Sounds like you’ve already secured companions, one for each side.” She elbowed him off as he leaned to put his arm around her.

“I reckon you’re right.” He attempted to put his hand where it had been before, lightly trailing his fingers over the back of her neck. “Guess I’ll just have to put you on my lap,” he hummed in her ear, grabbing the bag of candy as Bess navigated the car out of the parking lot. 

She could tell he was joking around with her, but she scooted away from him nonetheless, sitting up straight and rigid as she drove, the bitter taste of his indifference still fresh on her tongue despite the half dozen chocolates she’d eaten in the last ten minutes.

“What happened to the Reese’s?” Elvis’ voice trailed off as he popped the last one in his mouth, and he took a longer look at Bess’ stiff stance.

“Oh, I didn’t think you were interested in them anymore.”

Elvis sucked on the candy and grabbed a bottle of Pepsi from the six pack below his feet, opening the cap with a pop.

“You cheesed off ‘bout them girls back there?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, it’s a free world, you can go around speaking to whomever you like.”

 Elvis sipped his Pepsi, looking sideways at Bess.

“Huh, so you hugging that steering wheel like you tryin’ to marry it for no reason, then, huh?”

Bess glanced over, her terse expression breaking. “Well, it doesn’t feel particularly good to be left twiddling my thumbs for thirty minutes.”

Taking another swig of his Pepsi, Elvis began to message the base of Bess’ neck.

“Aw, hell, honey, I didn’t even realize I was over there that long.” His fingers massaged the base of her neck. “Time got away from me, now that’s the god’s honest truth.”

Bess grunted as Elvis' thumb rubbed slowly over her shoulder blade, moving to her waist to pull her towards him.

“Hey now.” He kissed the top of her head, and Bess could feel her anger dissipating. “Scoot in here, let me show you how I feel ‘bout you, Moo Moo. Those girls don’ mean nothing.” He squeezed her waist.

“Seemed like something,” Bess whined, hating herself the minute the words left her mouth, she sounded needy and pitiful. 

“Aw, Moo Moo, don’t be like that. I spend my days driving ‘round in tanks with forty other men. When those lil gals called me over, almost felt like my old life again. I love my fans, honey, but that’s all they are. Ain’t special to me like you are.”

“Hmmmm.” She could feel herself giving in as his thumb worked its slow, rhythmic magic in circles at her waist. His thumb's movements made all her blood rush to her core, and a throbbing need mingled with the anger in her chest. He sensed her mood shifting and kissed her neck as she drove.

“Always so jealous, Bessie baby, might start to think you like me.”

Bess sighed out as he pulled her towards him tighter.

“You’re wrong, Elvis Presley,” she murmured halfheartedly. “I am just bored, passing time ‘til I get out of this hell hole. You could go off with a car full of girls and it wouldn’t bother me.”

His hand was at the side of her head, pulling her into his shoulder, stroking her hair.

“You’re so pretty when you get all riled up, Moo Moo, your cheeks get so red. It’s how I imagine you’d be -“ He paused, his voice was tender and babyish now, even as he spoke with an impish smirk, giggling at his own innuendo. “ - after chasing me down in that car fulla girls.”

Bess sat up, slapping his hand off her, no longer really mad about the girls, just his teasing. Elvis' arms were around her again in a flash, and he kissed her cheek.

 “I’m jus’ teasin’, honey. Now come on, be a good lil girl and find us a nice place to park.”

He turned the radio on, tapping once he found a station playing a song he liked, and waggling his eyebrows at Bess as he began to sing with The Clovers to “Blue Velvet.”

Bess shook her head to herself, enjoying how the night air cooled her warm, red cheeks. She had sworn that once he got back in the car, she would drop him off and not let Elvis charm her into spending the rest of the night with him. But here, now, she knew she was a goner. Her body betrayed her and the need to feel his lips on hers, as soon as possible, overrode any sense of pride or logic. She drove her blue Ford into the first dark alley she found among the armory buildings.

Awkwardly smoothing down her blouse, Bess tried not to seem excited or in a hurry as she sighed nervously and watched Elvis tilt his head toward the back seat. They wordlessly got out, and she stumbled into her open door. It was pitch black, the air was thick with anticipation, and Bess trembled as she edged along the leather. After two weeks, she still got nervous alone in the car with Elvis.

His lip hung down as he moved over and he caught her knee, lightly trailing over it before pulling her legs onto his lap. His eyes followed his fingers as they moved up her leg, sucking in his breath. Each night, without fail, his face would fill with awe when they began to fool around. He always looked like he had never touched a girl before, like she was the first woman he had ever met. Just the slightest caress seemed to light a fire in his eyes, and he slowly, reverently removed her shoes, one by one, swirling his fingers over each ankle.

They had left the radio playing, it was a doo wop program and the slow beat of a bass guitar thrummed in Bess’ ears as Elvis’ index finger begin to roll  back and forth at the edge of her skirt. His eyes met hers, looking her up and down as he sighed.

“Hey there, lil Moo Moo.” A goofy smile spread under his half-lidded eyes, and he bit his lip, looking as though he had just unearthed a secret. His hand was now on her knee, and a charged tremor flared up the back of her calves. “I’m crazy ‘bout you, honey. I need you to know it.”

The longing in his voice made Bess want to wrap her legs around Elvis’ waist and pull him on top of her. Draw him as close as possible, flip over and crush him into the leather seat, getting as close as she possibly could until the car shook with the sounds of their love making. Instead, Bess took a deep breath and tried to embody an appealing, modest restraint.

“I’m sorry, Elvis, sorry for giving you a hard time. And for eating all the chocolates.”

He leaned over her, and his warm breath hit her ear as he whispered.

 “I know baby, s’ok. I forgive you. You gonna be a good lil girl from now on?”

“Mmmhmmm.” She answered in her own babying voice, not questioning where that affect came from or why she suddenly seemed to find their childish repartee so enticing.

Elvis’ lips brushed over her neck, followed by a succession of kisses that started out soft and slow and then gradually became deeper. Bess fell down onto the white leather seat, her breaths loud and shallow as she unbuttoned his work coat, lifting her bottom to help Elvis as he pulled her nylons off. She laughed when they got tangled and he had to turn and look at what he was doing, swearing as he threw them to the ground.

 “Damn mosquito netting. Where were we?”

Bess cupped his cheek, bringing him back to her lips.

“Here.” She swallowed into his smug expression while his right hand moved up her thigh, teasing her over her panties before he smiled wider at the way she rolled her hips to welcome his touch. He dragged his knuckles delicately over her center and Bess felt a bulge growing against her knee when Elvis looked down where his hand was.

“Man oh man.”

He raised his eyebrow as his fingers slipped inside her and she responded with an upward thrust, turning her face into his left arm at the sensation. Elvis kissed her check, gliding his fingers further into her, slowly probing her delicately and lingering over her bundle of nerves, repeating the movements that provoked a response.

Bess tried to remember the last time a man had touched her. This was no impatient swiping on the way to quick sex. Ben had made the effort to please her, though he had always seemed preoccupied, like he was making a grocery list while he muddled along with his fingers. She had had to do a lot of work twisting and turning to get the angle right. Elvis was right there, absorbing every twitch, every gasp, every clench as she pivoted his fingers toward what she liked. No one had ever touched her like this and it felt so satisfying that Bess couldn’t stop herself from grabbing him as she moaned out. Her hands were on his back, through his hair, in his mouth while he watched with concentration, his lips opening and closing with a gasp as she moved her knee back and forth over his groin.

“You are so soft, Moo Moo.” He brought his fingers out momentarily and Bess’ jaw dropped as she watched him suck on his index and forefinger, covering them in his saliva and grinning as he brought his hand back to slide easily inside her. “Sweet, too, baby, sweetest girl I ever met.”

Bess blushed, deeper, harder, redder than ever, and buried her head into Elvis' forearm. It was almost too much, to feel Elvis’ finger rolling over her slick nub, slow and steady, like he was canoeing them intently down a lazy river, strumming her like a banjo. Each stroke brought her closer to home, and a warm tingling sensation hummed up to her throat and made her moan out a guttural melody just for him. His eyes never left hers, and his chest pushed harder and harder into her with each exhale. It was the most intimate, vulnerable and intense experience Bess had ever had. She felt him grind harder against her knee, breaking their eye contact to drop his forehead on to hers with a loud groan.

Their bodies shifted back and forth together and the car swelled with the sound of their savage breathing. The smell of aftershave, Chanel No. 5 talcum powder, tank grease and sweat filled Bess’ nostrils, and heightened the aching, sparking heat in her chest. She pulled Elvis to her, meeting his lips as he stroked her until the bow broke and waves of electricity vibrated through her body. She cried to heaven above and hell below, drowning out the sound of the music playing on the radio, the sound of the car seat heaving up and down, the sound of Elvis’ chuckles as he held her, looking down at her with wide puppy dog eyes full of satisfaction and appreciation. As if she had been the one pleasing him.

Bess realized how much she had satisfied him when she noticed a wet, gooey stain on his pants as she lay in Elvis’ arms, nuzzling her forehead against his chest. She palmed her hand over it, smiling up at him.

“Maybe I should keep an extra uniform in my car for you?”

He played with her hair, grinning into her eyes.

“Nah, it’ll dry. Sides, it’s dark, no one will know what we been up to.” He took a deep breath, another chortle escaped his lips. “S’nice a you to offer, though. Guess I know what I have to do to get you to be a nice lil girl for me.”

“Hush.” Bess hit him, but she couldn’t help but sigh affectionately. “Though, gee whiz, Elvis. I never felt like that before.”

“Aw, there she is, there’s a good lil Moo Moo.” He kissed her head. “Why, she’s the sweetest lil Moo cow in the whole wide world. Gotta take care a my Moo Moo, cuz she takes such good care me.”

All Bess could do was sink into him further, allowing his babyish voice to lull her into a calm, relaxed state. She started playing with the lining of his undershirt, asking him about their plans to be together over the weekend. 

In her more reserved moments, Bess stopped herself from prodding Elvis for future plans because she did not want to seem needy or anxious or too invested. She left it to him. She didn’t want to give him the power of knowing how much she liked him. This tryst was temporary, she knew how this worked: he would go on leave back to Memphis, and then, before she knew it he’d be off to Germany.

But when she was with him, in his embrace, all of her worries seemed to dissolve. Bess didn’t think about her mother’s troubles, her father’s expectations, how Ben had broken her heart or anything upsetting. Here, in the cozy afterglow of loving making, she felt completely at ease and her subconscious snuck out, seeking opportunities to be with him as much as possible. Her hand smoothed over his shirt as she looked up at him with a breezy, carefree grin.

“Want me to pick you up tomorrow?”

“Nah, honey, my friend has my new white Caddy, so I’ll be coming’ round to pick you up from now on.”

“What time d’you think you’ll come by?”

“Don know, ‘zactly, but I’ll call you. Reckon it’ll be after 5, most likely.”

 “I should write down my number.” She started to sit up, but Elvis held her tight and kissed her nose.

“Nah, Moo Moo, jus’ tell me, I’ll ‘member it.”

Bess squinted up incredulously, but soon he was repeating it back to her, tickling her and telling her to be a good girl and trust him.

“I got it, locked down up here, baby.” He pointed to his head, and Bess shrugged, sitting up and swaying to the sounds of the song “Devil or Angel.”

“Aw, I love this song.”

Elvis followed suit, joining her upright on the bench seat and grinning as he tucked in his shirt and straightened his tie as he sang along. Bess smiled inwardly at his silly, melodramatic expression, he was clearly trying to impress her. She grinned wider when she realized that they were on opposite sides of the seat from when they had first moved back there, and she smooshed into him with a light kiss. He returned it, and they started to paw at each other again, tongues meeting and gently exploring each other until Bess pushed off, trying to be sensible and move them out of the car.

 “You better go, Tupelo.”

Elvis followed her, kissing the knuckles over her hand as they said their goodnights against her car, hips pushing up against hips.

“Always takin’ such good care a me, Moo Moo. I jus’ know. God sent you to take care of me. Wish I could just stay with you always. I hate to leave.” He murmured, pouting. “I don know how I’m gonna make it through the night without you, baby. Gonna be dreamin’ ‘bout you.” His lip curled up at the left side. “And how sweet ya taste.”

Elvis dodged her had as she tried to hit his arm. “Tomorrow can’t come soon enough, Moo Moo. Mmhhmmm, better have that sweet lil honey pot all dressed up and ready for a party. Wanna show you off to my friends.”

Bess blushed and waved him away, though she couldn’t stop herself from rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet from excitement. This last week she had felt like a phoenix, rising from the ashes of last summer’s devastating heartbreak and all the self destructive behavior that had followed.

Being with Elvis was a restorative tonic, and she couldn’t wait to spend the night with him Saturday. It meant something that he invited her to meet his friends; it was an acknowledgment, a validation, a way of telling her that he didn’t just see her as someone to fool around with in a dark car. It meant that he really liked her. That she really was special to him.

 ********************************************************

Saturday, April 12, 1958

9:47 a.m.  The Schwartz Residence

The house smelled like spiced ginger. It was one of those days when Mama had risen at dawn and baked enough food to feed the entire base. There were loaves of ginger bread, banana bread, rugelach, oatmeal cookies and some sort of roast was slowly cooking in the oven. Their kitchen had always been the heart of Bess’ family, not only was it where she learned to cook at her mother’s apron strings, but it is also where Mama taught her to draw, read and knit. Papa had taught her and Kay German by only speaking German to them in the house until they were fluent. However, it was at the kitchen table with Mama where Bess perfected her German. This was where Mama had helped her with her German homework and essays. With all of her work, with all of her problems. 

Mama’s parents were second generation German Jews, and before she met Papa, Mama had played piano in Zayde’s Brooklyn vaudeville theatre, where all six kids in Mama’s family had eventually gone to work. Papa enjoyed regaling his daughters with the story of how he had met a dark, beautiful woman on the Coney Island midway who had captured his heart when she helped him buy tickets after no one understand his broken English. She had spoken to him in German, and it was the first time he’d felt welcomed and safe in America. Two weeks later he had asked her to marry him. Mama had thrown herself into domestic life after the wedding, and then into factory life during the war, always somehow managing to keep things taped together through military moves back and forth across the country.

Bess often wondered when Papa realized how different Mama was from other women, because most of the time, her mental condition was fairly obtuse and could be understood as harmless whimsy. For Bess, it was a mainstay of her childhood. 

Mama had always spoken so casually of the hidden meanings she saw in the world, the faeries and demons that spoke to her, that when Bess was little, she had assumed something was wrong with her and waited impatiently for her own visions. It was not until she was twelve, after Mama had dug up the whole back yard one night and chopped off all their electrical wires to stop the demons from tormenting her, that Papa took her and Kay aside and explained that Mama had to go live at a health farm for the summer and Aunt Rachel would be coming from New York to take care of them.

Thus began a long series of stays at different experimental sanitariums and institutions over the last ten years. The most recent had been in November, a month-long stay at a small resort in Eureka Springs Arkansas, and Mama had returned fatter, calmer and filled with zeal about the wonders of natural hot spring bathing. But Mama was still Mama, and the battle for good and evil was still playing out in front of her eyes through the words and whispers and visions that she alone experienced. Bess was grateful that, for whatever reason, the demons had been staying mostly at bay. The faeries, on the other hand, had been quite vocal.

Mama turned as Bess entered the kitchen, and brought her daughter some coffee while she caressed Bess’ cheek with her hand.

“Oh Bessie, you’ve been looking radiant lately. The faeries have been murmuring.” She trailed her fingers over the large curlers in Bess’ hair. “They tell me you have a new beau.”

Bess blushed, responding sheepishly. “No mama, I’m  - I’m - just going out tonight. With friends. Where’s Papa?”

“Oh he went fishing with some of the German studies instructors, they took three barrels of beer and a tent, so they might stay at the lake. “

Mama kissed Bess’ forehead and then sipped her own coffee.

“It is going to be a full moon tonight, Bessie. You are positively glowing, my girl. I think the moon goddess wants to have her way with you, you have to be careful. She is a tricky one, she plays with us mere mortals for amusement.”

Bess blushed, thinking of Elvis and her own hopes and desires for the night. A shiver of anticipation went through her body and she giggled, nervously.

“Hmmm, well, we’ll see, Mama, maybe I can outsmart her.”

Mama stood, following as Bess took her coffee and bread to the secretary’s desk in the hall, and winking at her daughter.

“No one can outsmart the mistress of the moon, Bess, she controls the oceans and with it, the waves within us. The water that drums in our ears and thrashes us forward. The current that pulls at our heart. And her power is strongest at the full moon, beware her riptide.”

Bess watched as her mother turned into the living room with a flourish and then filled the house with Rachmaninoff’s loud, romantic piano music. 

Bess couldn’t help going into her evaluative mindset and pondering whether Mama was having a good day, baking and playing the piano, or whether she was hurtling towards a manic episode. She looked at the clock, and decided she would have to wait and see, but she prepared herself to cancel the whole night if need be. Right now, she would go ahead as planned, and called her friend James to beg him for help finalizing her outfit.

“I need a man’s opinion, that’s why.”

“Bess, trust me, whatever dress you wear, Elvis’ only thought is going to be how quickly he can get it off."

“Jameson!” Bess spoke in a hushed murmur as she rocked her chair back against the wall. “I don’t even know what is going to happen, he is an odd duck when it comes to fooling around.” James was silent. “Great, so you’ll be here at 5?”

“Bess, I love you but I am not getting involved. Didn’t you say he’s picking you up at 5?”

“He said he would call after 5, and I’ve been thinking, you should pick me up and drop me off, then I’ll get a cab home or something. I don’t want my folks to know about Elvis -”

“Bess, the General probably already -”

“Just be here at 5, James. I’m going to get my nails done and pick up a few things. Wait, better make it 4:30, just in case - ok? Please? You know I never ask for anything.”

Bess looked at the nails on her right hand, turning them over, trying to banish James’ suggestion that her father probably already knew that she was spending time with Elvis Presley. Yes, he trained officers to gather intelligence, but Papa could be quite blind about their home life. She rocked back and forth on the chair, noticing that her mother’s piano serenade in the living room had moved from Russia to Brooklyn. She was playing Gershwin now. 

This is good sign, Bess thought, happy, lighthearted Gershwin was one of Mama’s favorites. Then Bess realized after a few bars that it was “The Man I Love,” and she pursed her lips at her mother’s teasing.

“But you always ask. For everything. ‘James, take me to the dance, James, let’s go out dancing in Austin, James deliver me to Elvis Presley’s motel room - ’ ”

“Stop, you know you love it. Otherwise you’d be bored out of your mind, as you refuse to have a love life of your own.”

“That’s what you think, Schwartz. I have a vast, secret love life that I keep from you.”

Bess grinned. “Good, you can tell me all about it when I see you at 4:30. Make that 4. And if you don’t show, I’ll inform the General that you stood me up!”

Smiling wider at her friend’s groans, Bess hopped up with purpose, thinking that it was time to wash off her facial mask and make a list of all the things she needed to do to get ready by four.

“It’s settled then. James, you’re a dream, see you at 4.”

***********************************************

Saturday, April 12, 1958

3:58 p.m.  The Schwartz Residence

It was Kay who opened the door when James arrived, smart and debonair in his officer’s uniform with his hair coiffed and parted perfectly. Bess bounced down the stairs, beaming wide at James’ high whistle as she twirled around for him.

“Gee Schwartz, I think you might need to drive tonight. That dress just kicked me in the head.”

Bess did a two step in her cocktail dress, trying not to notice the way her sister rolled her eyes as she shut the front door.

 “You don’t have to be nice, Captain, you can tell her she needs to wear something more colorful, more over the top, more like what Elvis wears in civilian life. I’ve been telling her all afternoon.”

James tilted his head towards Kay, “So I’m guessing the kid knows.”

Bess shrugged, “Yeah, oy. But thank god Papa took Colonel Zimmermann and some of the new teachers fishing. Mama’s out back painting, she’s been on one today. Baked up a storm, if you want something sweet.”

James shook his head, letting Bess lead the way upstairs. “Your mom is too smart, Bess. So is your pop. I’m happy to be your beard, but if they don’t already know you are dating Elvis Presley, they are gonna get wise sooner or later.”

Kay laughed, “Mama already knows something is up, Bess has been putting way more attention into her appearance this week and coming home late every night. Just today, she curled her hair, then decided to go to the salon and have her hair set anyway. And she tried on about 100 dresses, just so everything’s perfect.” Kay said, in a sing-song voice.

“I’m not dating Elvis, you guys. I’m just spending time with him. And, Kay, I think you are exaggerating. I was having my nails done at the beauty parlor anyway.” 

Bess held out her hands for James’ inspection. She felt a deep sense of satisfaction at the dark burgundy color, and she had liked it so much she matched her lipstick to it. There was something about a fresh nail lacquer that always made Bess feel more adult, more confident.

“Let me show you the whole get-up with these low heeled pumps on, though I have some other shoe options.” She slipped on her heels, and twirled around again, as James went to sit on her bed next to Kay. “There, now, James, as a man, what do you really think? Too simple? He said to dress up.”

James looked Bess up and down as Kay snickered, prompting a quick kick to her shin.

“No, it’s perfect Bess. With that neckline? And the way it crisscrosses in the middle, and your hair? You look like Ava Gardner. It’s not too simple, it’s sexy. Sexy as hell. But you need a necklace.”

James stood, and went to Bess’ vanity, pulling out her pearl necklace from her jewelry box, and beckoning her over. He fastened it around her neck from behind, then put in the matching earrings, carefully, before stepping back with a whistle to let Bess look at herself in the mirror.

“There now. You're a goddess. I dare him not to whisk you away and ravage you the moment he sees you. It’s wholesome and it’s sexy all at once.”

Bess smiled and took her friend’s hand, whispering a shy, blushing thank you. They sat up there, listening to records as Bess modeled a few other shoe options and asked whether she should wear gloves. Ultimately, all parties involved agreed gloves were too formal for a motel party.

It was 5:15 when they went back downstairs and settled in the kitchen, sampling some of the rugelach as they waited for Elvis’ call. 

By 6:15, they had moved to the living room and Papa’s bar, where Bess made Tom Collins for everyone, which now included Mama and Dickey, who had come by to take Kay out to a drive-in movie. 

At 7, Mama began to ask if James and Bess wanted dinner, she was slow cooking a roast for Sunday, but could fry up some cold meatloaf sandwiches.

“No thanks, Mama, we’re just waiting to hear from the friends we’re meeting.” Bess stumbled through a sorry excuse for a story about two friends from high school who had to work later than expected. James gave Bess a supportive look, and after her mother left the living room, reassured her that a number of things could have happened with the drill sergeant overseeing Elvis’ dismissal.

“He could be stuck on KP duty, maybe he got held back because the others played a prank on him. You know how unpredictable those battalion sergeants can be. Let’s relax and turn on the boob tube.”

Bess nodded, made another round of Tom Collins, and settled in to watch Art Linkletter's amateur comedy show, trying very hard not to think about how it was almost 8 p.m. 

At 9 James began his campaign to convince Bess something must have kept Elvis on base, and that they should get out of the house. Get burgers at Millie’s Diner or go for a drive out to the Waco Wet Dog. 

At 9:30, Bess caved, and ran upstairs to take off her pearls and change into a more casual, purple swing dress. While changing, she began to mull over a secondary plan that was forming in her head, and she carried the entire display case of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups she’d bought with her to James’ car.

“What’s with the candy?” James looked over his shoulder as he careened his car around towards downtown Killeen.

“It’s sort of a joke, I um, I ate all his peanut butter cups the other night. I- I thought it would be a gas if I showed up with an entire case.”

James looked over at Bess, and rubbed her shoulder. “And what, you think we should eat them instead?”

“Well, what if he couldn’t get to a phone? Or got too caught up with his friends or whatever? He was pretty insistent that he wanted to see me tonight. I was thinking...” Bess looked down with a sigh, then back up at James, her eyes dark with determination. “What about just driving by the Star Motel on the way home. What do you think, as a man, how would you feel if I just showed up?”

James could see Bess’ confidence waver, but he couldn’t bear to talk her down, not after everything he had watched he go through over the last year. So he banished his own misgivings and squeezed her hand. “Honey, any man upset to see you walk in would be crazy. But let’s get some grub first, ok?”

***********************************************

Saturday, April 12, 1958

11:05 p.m.  The Star Motel, on the outskirts of Killeen TX towards Waco

The air was cool now, and Bess’ mother had been right, it was a full moon that shone over them, illuminating the farms off in the distance on the road to Waco. The Star Motel was a two-storey building with rooms along the inside and outside that wrapped around a large pool. 

Bess sat in the car, stomach churning, suddenly unsure if this was a good idea. They had definitely spotted a new, white Cadillac packed in the back lot with a temporary license plate. Which was both promising and unsettling, because it meant Elvis was probably there but hadn't called her. Bess suddenly wished she hadn't found it, but she was also unable to just slide back and tell James to take her home now that she knew Elvis was probably here.

Adrenaline was coursing through her veins and the cocktails had dulled her inhibitions.There was a giddy, bubbly feeling at the top of her head that egged her on and told her that he had invited her, had been adamant about wanting to see her, “show her off,” telling her she was special to him, that he was crazy about her. 

Maybe it was the full moon after all. Whatever it was, every cell in Bess’ body compelled her curiosity and her desire. She had to know, and she needed to feel his touch once more; that voice and that face and those hands that took her away from her difficult, tiresome existence. 

Taking a deep breath, she felt almost like a force behind herself was propelling her out of the car, and she only hesitated at the sound of James’ voice.

“Bess, come out and let me know, ok? This place is always crawling with creeps, so if you don’t come out here and give me the old heave ho in the next 15 minutes, I’m going to come find you. I won’t care about locked doors.”

Bess nodded back into the car with a bright, broad smile, and then strode over the grass and into the side corridor of the motel, avoiding the office. 

Walking past the first set of rooms, she came to a breezeway and paused, leaning against the decorative, concrete screen in the middle to calm and prepare what she would say to Elvis. She was certain they were a few doors down, she could hear a group of male voices jamming and she perked up, clutching her box of chocolates closer to her bosom at the sound of Elvis’ low voice singing no more than twenty feet away. 

That was when she heard heels clicking down the breezeway, and turned to find a small, petite blonde in a pink dress walking towards her with an exaggerated flounce in her hips and an ice bucket resting at her waist. Bess' chest tightened when she recognized Anita Wood from the movie magazine photos. Magazine photos of Anita Wood out on dates around Memphis with her boyfriend Elvis Presley.

Anita flashed Bess a dazzling grin that displayed the whitest, straightest teeth Bess had ever seen. “I swear, I walked all over creation looking for that dag gum ice machine, and you know where it is? Where these rocket scientists thought to themselves, why this is the best place to put it? Up behind the cigarette machine, on the back of it. Completely outta sight. Can you believe that?”

“Um yeah, I mean no, ugh. Idiots, I bet it was cheaper to wire it back there, or something.”

Bess wiped the sides of her eyes, willing herself not to cry, not to linger on how this proved that she was just another girl to Elvis, and definitely not preferable to the gorgeous beauty queen in front of her. Anita’s face fell as she looked up at Bess.

“Oh honey, are you ok? Why, you know you’d just feel better if you just let it all out.” Anita pulled a pink handkerchief with lace trim from her bust, replete with a monogrammed A.W. “Here, now, you can cry with me here, ain’t no one but us chickens.”

“Is it that obvious I'm upset?” Bess tried to chuckle, watching Anita’s face change to a confused frown as she noticed the box of Reese’s.

“Hey - what’s with the candy? Are you meeting someone here?”

Bess shifted, working against those cocktails to think on her feet and also play dumb about the suspicion she saw in Anita’s eyes. “Oh, ha, no. These are for me. I, um, I live here in town with my folks, and I just checked in here because, well, I needed to get away for the night and drown my sorrows in chocolate, if you know what I mean. Just learned my fiancee married another girl he met in Germany. Men, huh? What are they good for?”

Anita stepped forward and rubbed Bess’ shoulder as more tears fell down her cheeks.

“Well, God made men for a reason, sometimes I think it was to test our womanly resolve. Oh honey, I cannot imagine what that would feel like, to have a man wrong you so. Ain’t no dirtier dog than a man who breaks that sacred promise. But I tell you what.” She took the box of Reese’s from Bess' arm. “You cannot sacrifice your figure over a man. Nu huh. No way, Jose. Why, that won’t do nothing to get back at him, it’ll only hurt you and your future prospects. My heart is telling me that I cannot stand by and let you go eat all this candy and feel sorry for yourself, honey. That is the devil whispering in your ear.”

Anita trotted over to the trash can and Bess groaned inwardly as she watched a woman dispose of Elvis’ chocolates for the second time that week. Though she conceded that Anita was right, she didn’t really want to go home and eat them all. Well, she did. But she knew she would regret it.

What could she do, offer them knowingly to Anita to take to her boyfriend? The thought made her smile, which Anita, of course, assumed was a reaction to her kind, Christian gesture. Still holding her ice bucket, Anita patted Bess on her shoulder.

“See, I can tell you’re feeling better already now that the temptation has been removed. We women have to stick together. You should take a nice long bath, it will do wonders, much more healing than candy. Whenever I get upset, I have a good cry, get it all out, then take a nice hot shower.” She winked at Bess, and Bess wondered if Anita did the same things in the shower that Bess did to make herself feel better. Maybe that was why God made showers?

Anita smiled wider as Bess wiped her eyes, and mustered a feeble grin, which encouraged her to continue dispensing advice.

“Yessirree, you’ll feel better once you wash that man right out of your hair and start over again. Pretty girl like you, why, if you lost five pounds, you’d have your pick of the litter.” Bess flinched when Anita pinched her waist playfully, and was lost for words as her heart jumped into her throat with embarrassment at how much thicker she was than the petite blonde. Insecurity clouded her head and she was almost unable to hear the rest of what Anita said.

“Just stay away from big boxes of candy, and other temptations Satan might throw at you. Then, I bet you dollars to doughnuts, that boy will regret his decision. The best revenge is to find someone better and shove it in his face. Make sure to take out a big ole wedding announcement in the paper That'll make you feel much better.” 

Anita left Bess with a wink and a parting squeeze to her arm, as Bess murmured a low thank you. She wiped her eyes and gathered her wits, then, when she was sure Anita was gone, she dug the box of chocolate out of the trashcan and tucked the rescued candy under her arm.

Straightening her dress as she sat down in James' car, Bess popped a Reese’s in her mouth and decided on how she would respond to her friend's questions.

“I ran into one of his girlfriends in the hallway.”

“Oh Bess, no, he didn’t! I’ve half a mind to go back and beat that hillbilly senseless.”

Bess shook her head, extending her arm out of the window and dropping Anita’s pink, embroidered handkerchief into a puddle of mud on the side of the road as they drove back to her house.

“Don’t, Elvis did me a favor. He reminded me why I don’t date soldiers.”

**************************************************************

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[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is:  Sleepingoffyourdemons! They have 6 works posted to AO3 and all of them are in the Steddie tag!

Nevertheless_5 recommends the following works by @punkslovepoints:

in the back of your girlfriend's car

The most that I could give to you is nothing at all

"The A is for Ally"

What Happens at Comic Con Stays at Comic Con

obliterations everywhere (we blaze with scorching heat)

Sleepingoffyourdemons’ fics are character studies, grounded in reality with all the painful angst, real world consequences, and heartwrenching love you could want in your Steddie wish fulfillment. They hurt and heal in equal measure. They feel immersive in a comforting way. I fell in love with the first fic I read, and proceeded to read everything else by the author. Also, the research put into the time periods and info in notes is just icing on the cake. -- Nevertheless_5

Below the cut, @punkslovepoints answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

I don’t know! I didn’t watch season 4 and immediately think, “These guys are in love.” In fact, during Eddie's first scene, I didn't really even like him. Then, existing on the edge of the wider Stranger Things fandom, I saw a few fics showing up here and there and that was what really pulled me in.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

I love a good missing scene fic, although I can understand why there aren’t many of those in this fandom, given that staying true to canon leads to a very grisly end to one half of the ship. I also like a slow burn, friends to lovers and a wee bit of angst.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

Honestly, the same that I like to read. I try to write for myself and hope that other people will like it too. As difficult as that can be sometimes, like everyone, I also crave external validation where every comment makes your day.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

A Certain Type and the rest of the series by @anniebass. It’s one of those that burrows into your chest and lives there for the rest of your life. There's not a day that goes by that I don't think about that fic.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I’m annoyingly resolute to sticking as close to canon as possible (Eddie dying aside!) so I’ve never really strayed away from that. But have had an idea for an AU for the upcoming Steddie Big Bang that I think I could write with enough connection to canon that it’ll keep the part of my brain that screams ‘that wouldn’t happen!!!’ quiet.

What is your writing process like?

I tend to get an idea then focus on that until it’s done and posted. I don’t write that often, and I obsess over small details. I must have read each one of my fics twenty times or more, just going over and over them before I post.

Do you have any writing quirks?

I don’t know! There’s probably a lot that I’m not even aware of. Most of my fics have a lot of references at the end, even ones that aren’t specifically historical, so that’s probably a dead giveaway that a fic is one of mine. That and going off on tangents for whatever my special interest is that month.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

Definitely when I’ve finished. Although as I’m posting, people’s comments and feedback may inspire me to make small alterations or add scenes here or there in future chapters. I wrote an extra scene into the final chapter of The Most That I Could Give To You… to give an OC a proper send off because of the number of comments I’d had earlier in the fic from people who loved him. I also re-wrote the final scene of “The A is for Ally” the night I posted it because I decided I didn’t like how it ended and changed it. 

Which fic are you most proud of?

Probably “The A is for Ally”, because of the sheer amount of research that I put into it. I wanted to write an exploration of queer history that focused on queer joy in the early 90’s. It can be hard to find that balance, writing queer ships set in less progressive times. Because it wasn’t all sunshine and roses, but, equally, there were moments of joy and communities of real queer people living their lives and fighting for those queer spaces. I wanted to pay tribute to that. [Side note: The title is a joke, the A is not for Ally].

How did you get the idea for What Happens at Comic Con Stays at Comic Con?

As with most of the fics I've written, I wanted to read it, so I wrote it. I was looking for something set at comic con and was shocked when I couldn't find anything, especially with the source material being what it is. I later discovered Descent into the Depths of the Earth (Or at Least Milwaukee) by disastardly on Ao3, but by then I'd written mine. Luckily they are totally different, and I'd highly recommend that one too.

When writing "The A is for Ally", what was something you didn’t expect?

How popular it got! I’m still a small writer, not a big name or anything, but I got so many more comments on that fic compared to all the ones before and @cemeterylight even drew art of it. It was so nice that something I wrote resonated with people.

What inspired in the back of your girlfriend's car?

There’s a song by Lucy Dacus called Christine that has the lines “You're falling asleep on my shoulder in the back of your boyfriend's car” that is a beautiful portrayal of queer longing. Loving somebody who is with somebody else who obviously isn’t right for them. I love Nancy, and wanted to follow that thought: What happens if Steve does win Nancy back, but they’re both different people now? My pitch for the fic is that it's an exploration of trauma and chasing highs, loving multiple people in multiple ways at once, messy relationships and making out in cars. All with a Steddie endgame, of course.

What was your favorite part to write from The most that I could give to you is nothing at all?

Probably the couple of chapters in California. Eddie and Steve have been hooking up on and off for a few years long distance, and after it all blows up, they agree to spend some time getting to know each other without letting sex get in the way. It was fun to write in that space where you have two people who are obviously in love, have a history, but are trying desperately to avoid falling into old habits. That simmering sexual tension.

How do/did you feel writing What Happens at Comic Con Stays at Comic Con?

Really nostalgic for going to comic con! I haven’t been to one in a few years and it just made me miss the feeling of being in a space where everyone is as weird and nerdy as you are.

What was the most difficult part of writing obliterations everywhere (we blaze with scorching heat)?

I hadn’t actually written a proper fic before when I wrote that one. I had written two drabbles over a decade ago and that was it. So just writing it was difficult. At the time, there were next to no fics where Eddie was the one having a bi crisis and Steve was fairly chill in his sexuality (there still aren’t enough in my opinion, it’s a top tier trope) so I just wrote what I wanted to read.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

Probably the whole conversation this snippet is taken from within The Most That I Could Give To You… where Steve has the charm turned up to eleven and Eddie is fighting for his life (figuratively this time). I adore writing the Stobin back and forth dynamic too, so there's this one from The Most That I Could Give To You… where they're talking about Sisyphus and May 29th 1992 from “The A is for Ally” where Robin sees something she wishes she hadn't. I also got a lot of nice comments on this scene from “The A is for Ally” where Wayne mistakenly thinks Steve and Eddie are dating and “Steve didn't correct him, didn't feel the distinction was all that important.”

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

I’ve just posted a new one, Pebble and I've got another one that I’m part way through, both of them returning to my roots and featuring Eddie having a bi crisis. I’m also planning on taking part in the Steddie Bang, but obviously can’t talk about that! 

Thank you to our author, @punkslovepoints, and our nominator, Nevertheless_5! See more of Sleepingoffyourdemons' works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[lyranova]

Hello it's clover anon for the writing ask game can you answer 3, 8, 11, 12, 20.

Hiya Clover Anon! Of course I can 🥰!

3 on a scale of 1-10 how much do you enjoy incorporating romance into the average story?

Probably an 8-9? I always love adding romance into a story, but at the same time i don’t think every story needs a romance 😅. I usually just try to get a vibe or feeling for what or who I’m writing!

8 what’s your relationship with constructive criticism and feedback like? do you seek it out? how well do you take it?

Hm, i think i have a good relationship with it 🤔! I really like getting feedback, especially on fics I’m not sure about, but there has been times where i didn’t want or need it (such as someone leaving one comment, and one comment only, on my story just to tell me i put “dessert” instead of “desert”, or people telling me that Yami’s last name is “Yami” and not “Sukehiro”).

11 what’s something neat you’ve learned while doing research for something you were writing? also, how much do you worry about doing research in general?

Hmm…I guess the difference between Crystals and Diamonds was the neatest thing I learned (Crystals are Mineral based and diamonds aren’t…if I remember right?)🤔! Also that one of the toughest glasses in the world (Princd Rupert’s Drop) is actually really fragile when you hit it in the right place (the tail). I don’t really worry too much about doing research since I enjoy it a lot, it’s just trying to find accurate info that I need 😭!

12 do you ever have trouble focusing on writing? how do you get around that? 

All the time! Especially the past few days 😅. To get around that i usually try to find something in my drafts that i really want to finish and start working on that; i also tend to put youtube videos i’ve seen hundreds of times on as background noise to kind of help me focus on writing since i’m not really distracted by what’s on tv

20 what is your favorite trope to write?

Hm, I guess friends to lovers? And any kind of “funny/chaotic/misunderstanding” trope, those are lots of fun too!

[tintagel-or-cockleshells]

Fic Origin Story

I was tagged by the marvellous @clottedcreamfudge and saved this link in my Notes to answer later.

What was your first fandom (reading and/or writing)? Lord of the Rings. So, I'm a true blue nerd. It was actually a story about the Entwives, because it was a fic exchange. I was like 14 and did so much research. It was not a good fic.

What was the first story you ever wrote (even if it was never posted) and what made you decide to write it? It was a dreadfully obvious derivative of a book I got at the library, written in glittery wax crayon, about an Egyptian servant girl who had a heart of gold and an evil priest who had a heart of stone and tried to swap them on the Scales of Justice. Illustrated, too!

What's a piece of advice you would give to your younger fic-writing self? “Stop thinking it's all got to be Big and Important and say Truthful Things! You're allowed to have fun!”  

What's an early fandom interaction that stuck with you (be it a nice comment, a friend you made, a fic that got a lot of feedback etc.)? Well, I remember joining a LoTR messageboard, so nervous, and then people being rude to me because I had the same kind of name as a recently-departed troll. However! People were a lot nicer after that, I met them in real life, and now two of them are my goddamn bridesmaids.

Post a sentence or two from one of your older fics, and a sentence or two from a newer one (if you want). Oh goodness me, this was a delve into the dives of my Gmail. This is from 2007, an Angels Unlimited fic.

"I hated babysitting.

No, I mean—the kids were generally cute and the more well-behaved ones went to bed on time, and you got paid heaps, but it was the time before bed when they want to show off so badly I hated. You got the ballerinas prancing around in lilac tutus, putting on their very expensive satin ballet shoes, and you being forced to watch wobbly arabesques. And the doll-mad ones telling you about the adventures of magical Barbie and Ken and sometimes Skipper, undressing them and invariably losing one tiny plastic shoe. AND then the ones who fancied themselves geniuses and watched University Challenge and got nearly all the right answers. Okay, so that was only one, but still. I was struggling with my French homework that night.

However, I’d never had to babysit a really religious kid before. People generally aren’t religious round where I live. In Park Hall, there’s not much proof of life before death. Its two churches are both in an equal state of disrepair. Nobody in my class goes to church on Sunday, and nobody believes in God. If he actually existed, he’d make sure nobody’s older brother got shot, or their mum taken away. But kids are like sheep when they’re that small, aren’t they? They believe what their parents tell them. And so Hope Adams was Catholic, and Believed with a capital B."

And this is from my newest fic, Ghosted, a Red, White and Royal Blue one.

“Love,” Henry says reluctantly, and looks even more bashful as Alex sends a malevolent grin his way. “God, you’re incorrigible.”

“That’s me. Dead or alive, I can’t be corriged.”

It really is their stop now, and Alex suspects (correctly, as it turns out) that there are plenty of people waiting to get on and off. He and Henry manage to squeeze their way out after a young woman dressed in scrubs, and pass a man with a bandaged hand, a nurse who looks absolutely exhausted, a man in immaculate 1920s threads, and two older women who could either be 1950s ghosts or modern day women with capital ‘S’ Standards.

But God, he’s unprepared for the onslaught of ghosts in the hospital. They have to walk past A&E to get to the main entrance, and he sees people in hospital gowns and surgical scrubs, ephemeral strangers in ghostly wheelchairs. The ones that gut him the most are the three kids playing in the little garden attached to a paediatric ward, sheltered in a courtyard within the hospital grounds. He’s only been like this for a year. How’s he going to cope if he keeps going on? If he’s still a psychopomp in a hundred years? In a time without Henry?"

THIS WAS excruciating. Thank you for tagging me, though! Let's tag... @jazzerdoc, @mariusperkins, and @rhymingteelookatme.

[lestcat-de-lioncourt]

So awkward seeing some fiction posted that’s creepily similar to your own you’ve been working so hard to create, researched, and such from your own experiences heart and imagination and they’re just throwing it around like it’s theirs with not that much changed about it aside from statement names and such. Well, at least I have my originals thank goodness!

Please check out Orange Juice In The Studio, a love story about a couple residing in a manga artists studio apartment in Spain, and just, couple things, warm, and it’s mature content and smut but also safe nsft and a bit more realistic depictions than some harmful representations of queer men engaging in romance that is trending and getting a lot of bottoms/subs hurt because of people’s refusal to talk about using lubricant and safety and treating an ass like a vag basically which doesn’t self lubricate anyone with experience would know nor enjoy being rawed with zero prep aha unless you like pain and being damaged ! Anyway, that said, that’s why I wanted to write it really, it’s important to me, the real love that happens and consent and boundaries and safety with things some people may not even know what to do because barely anyone teaches us about queer intimacy that people aren’t taught!

The second is definitely just some comedy and funny smut fanfiction for Ayato and Diluc, here’s the link to this, I’ll update ASAP but I haven’t atm as I’ve been a bit busy but hopefully I’ll get some more of that series done soon!

If anyone would like to give feedback please do, I’ve tagged with as many warnings and such as included within both but as always I welcome any tags you’d recommend me adding as I want to 100% communicate with the reader what will be within the story and what is suitable for their tastes and preference, and do not wish to spook anyone etc. as well, the nature of it is mature fiction so includes as such. I truly hope people enjoy it, but please, don’t steal it! I’m struggling enough as it is to keep motivation in writing it, and I will, but I am also not physically well right now so can’t schedule writing as easily as someone who isn’t and I hope to keep bringing my writing to people again. It doesn’t help that my side blog I was promoting it with most got censored the other day so I’ll probably put stuff about updates to chapters and art about it on here now instead, or, on @crimsonyoukai once I get that one up and running to replace my nsfw one.

Please don’t take my stuff, credit a little, or address me about maybe collaborating or something instead. I appreciate inspiration being taken but when it becomes painstakingly almost the same, that’s not okay at all. I don’t get paid for this, this is my art, this is my work, these are my ideas alone, and if it’s fanfiction it’s my ideas based in locations presented in game, or the characters and their basic personality and abilities but otherwise the rest, I’ve made it all up. I’m in pain most days, a parent, and stuff going on and it’s not as easy for me as some to just whip up and do this stuff! I can’t stop anyone but if you do take inspo let me know and I won’t mind of course unless it’s basically the same thing, hell if you liked the story that much just quote as fanfiction. Cripes. Maybe I should take it as a compliment that it was that good it had to be taken as their own. It’s fine. My originals are still up and dated and they are there as proof as well if I go further with it.

[silverjirachi]

That’s not true? At all? That’s highly dependent on the teacher of course, and some ABSOLUTELY do this and I can only imagine it’s gotten worse, but as a professor that’s not at all why I assigned essays?

There were two main reasons why I would assign essays in class:

1) I teach in an artistic field where the material is not objective. I was genuinely interested in fielding their thoughts on the subject matter and encouraging them to form their own opinions. It was also to make sure they had actually looked at the material or engaged with it at all. (“While working on my monologue I discovered this and this and this.”). A lot of them were reflective or asking them to form their own opinions and relationships to what was being asked of them.

2) Related to #1, but taken further. Analysis & Interpretation. This is like reflection but it’s asking you to form your own opinions and then back them up. One class I taught was centered around learning to analyze and engage with art, even art you don’t understand or like at first, which is a really important skill to develop and can only be taught by doing. I literally cannot have them practice that skill in any way that is not having them write it down and hand it in to me, because asking them to analyze and interpret on the spot is not only not fair but not giving them the chance to go through all the steps and tools I provided them with to practice this skill. In class we went over things like how to look at color, shape, size, texture etc, they learned all these terms and skills and practiced how to put them together to get at why a certain piece of art made them think or feel a certain way. That’s not something you can just.. do?

Professors, good professors anyway, assign you essays because they want you to learn something. They want you to engage with critical thinking on the subject, and that extends to fields that are not as subjective as mine! Historians are constantly interpreting, analyzing, and speculating, scientists need to analyze and synthesize information to be able to form a hypothesis, take their research and build on it. You can’t do these things without writing them down- at least not in any meaningful way that will allow other people to use them, which is how knowledge in science and other fields is created. Creating knowledge and writing it down and having discussions with each other with analyzed opinions is literally why technology and our society progresses at all. And to do it well, you need to practice it as a skill.

I’m not saying the problem you’re talking about doesn’t exist. It does. Very much so and I’m sure it’s only gotten worse as both teachers and students get more and more jaded and burnt out. But essays aren’t just arbitrarily assigned to give you something to do, or “sort students into categories.” Good professors give feedback to tell their students why they didn’t get full marks and what they can do to improve. These are based on the skills demonstrated behind the words, not the words themselves.

What I’m saying and what I think is damaging about AI is that it’s not encouraging students to engage with the skills of analyzing and explaining themselves that are going to help make them successful in their careers. Someone who can communicate and back up their points well, even if it’s not the most eloquent thing you’ve ever heard, is going to be more respected in their career than people who can’t. And the good news about this is that it IS absolutely a skill that can be taught to ANYONE at any skill level or experience, but you as the student are actually the only person who can teach it to yourself by doing it. Professors can give you tips and pointers and strategies, but unless you actually work on being able to work through facts, data, and opinions, you are not going to develop this skill. That’s what students are robbing themselves of when they use AI. I don’t get mad at them because they’re “gaming the system” or something. I get really sad, because they are robbing themselves of the opportunity to challenge themselves and grow. Which is how you get the most of the hundreds of thousands of dollars we are forced to throw into school. Going into that much debt to cultivate absolutely no skills is a complete waste and a disservice to no one but yourself. Essays are practice.

I get that students have an incredibly burdensome workload. I don’t blame you if you choose to use AI because you are just too burnt out and swamped, especially if it’s one of those classes not as relevant to your major as others, and if your professor is particularly shit. But I am on my hands and knees begging you to at least consider what you are robbing yourself of every time you use AI, and to use it responsibly. At least actively pick when you’re doing it, and ask yourself if you can afford to skip out on this round of practice or maybe you need to work on that skill to understand the material more, or get better at explaining yourself.

Also if it was just about eloquence.. AI would not help you? AI has the most dogshit basic way of describing and explaining stuff I have ever seen. If it was purely eloquence AI essays would be getting C’s and D’s nonstop. Which is again gonna be a huge disservice to you and the GPA you so desperately need to maintain.

I’m not saying there isn’t a problem. There is. But if you never engage with material in your field, and I’d say even materials that arent in your field, because it’s good to understand things outside of your immediate sphere, the only one you’re hurting is yourself.

[bravecompanynews]

The Download: election tech fears, and AI for teachers - Notice Today Online - #GLOBAL https://www.merchant-business.com/the-download-election-tech-fears-and-ai-for-teachers/?feed_id=188077&_unique_id=66d7a1df145d2 Google News—Felix M. Simon is a research fellow in AI and News at the Reuters Institute for the Study of Journalism; Keegan McBride is an assistant professor in AI, government, and policy at the Oxford Internet Institute; Sacha Altay is a research fellow in the department of political science at the University of Zurich.This year, close to half the world’s population has the opportunity to participate in an election. And according to a steady stream of pundits, institutions, academics, and news organizations, there’s a major new threat to the integrity of those elections: artificial intelligence. The internet is full of doom-laden stories proclaiming that AI-generated deepfakes will mislead and influence voters, as well as enabling new forms of personalized and targeted political advertising. Though such claims are concerning, it is critical to look at the evidence. With a substantial number of this year’s elections concluded, it is a good time to ask how accurate these assessments have been so far. The preliminary answer seems to be not very. Read the full story.Here’s how ed-tech companies are pitching AI to teachersThis back-to-school season marks the third year in which AI models like ChatGPT will be used by thousands of students around the globe. A top concern among educators remains that when students use such models to write essays or come up with ideas for projects, they miss out on the hard and focused thinking that builds creative reasoning skills.But this year, educational technology companies are pitching schools on a different use of AI. Rather than scrambling to tamp down the use of it in the classroom, these companies are coaching teachers how to use AI tools to cut down on time they spend on tasks like grading, providing feedback to students, or planning lessons. They’re positioning AI as a teacher’s ultimate time saver. But will teachers buy it? And should they? Read the full story.—James O’DonnellThis story is from The Algorithm, our weekly newsletter covering all the latest developments in AI. Sign up to receive it in your inbox every Monday.The must-readsI’ve combed the internet to find you today’s most fun/important/scary/fascinating stories about technology.1 Nvidia is getting into data center designNot content with dominating chipmaking, it wants to control how they’re used, too. (WSJ $)+ China’s attempts to build an Nvidia rival aren’t going to plan. (FT $)+ Things are going from bad to worse for US chipmaker Intel. (Reuters)+ What’s next in chips. (MIT Technology Review)2 Brazil’s Supreme Court has voted to uphold the ban on XResidents who seek to bypass the ban using a VPN will face fines. (Bloomberg $)+ The country’s president says other countries should look to it as an example. (WSJ $)3 Left-leaning conspiracy theories are on the riseAnd they’re likely to increase in the run up to the US Presidential election. (NYT $)+ Hackers linked to the Chinese state impersonated US voters online. (Reuters)4 Water supplies are at risk of contamination from wildfires Ash and charred soil can alter watersheds’ conditions—sometimes permanently. (Wired $)+ Canada’s 2023 wildfires produced more emissions than fossil fuels in most countries. (MIT Technology Review)5 India is becoming increasingly reliant on China’s importsWhich has US policymakers concerned. (WP $)+ Taiwan has accused China’s chipmakers of illegally poaching its top talent. (Bloomberg $)6 Cryptobiotic soil is essential to dryland ecosystemsBut climate change—and overzealous hikers—aren’t helping. (The Atlantic $)7 Tech firms are paying attention to this reclusive mathematician’s ideasAlexander Grothendieck’s concepts could give AI greater semantic understanding of the world—if they work, that is. (The Guardian)+ What is AI? (MIT Technology

Review)8 Cutting-edge fishing equipment does away with ropesBut the fishing community isn’t convinced by the fiddly new tech. (Undark Magazine)+ How fish-safe hydropower technology could keep more renewables on the grid. (MIT Technology Review)9 ‘Founder mode’ is the latest Silicon Valley buzz-termAre you a founder or a manager? (Insider $)10 Everyone hates dynamic pricing modelsEveryone except the businesses that profit off them, that is. (Bloomberg $)+ The British government is investigating their use to sell event tickets. (Wired $)+ How pricing algorithms learn to collude. (MIT Technology Review)Quote of the day“You don’t have to pay pensions to robots.”—Brian Jones, a foreman at the Port of Philadelphia, tells the New York Times why he fears the inevitable creep of automation into his industry.The big storyInside the cozy but creepy world of VR sleep roomsMarch 2023People are gathering in virtual spaces to relax, and even sleep, with their headsets on. VR sleep rooms are becoming popular among people who suffer from insomnia or loneliness, offering cozy enclaves where strangers can safely find relaxation and company—most of the time.Source of this programme “This is one magnificent add-on!!”“This is today’s edition of The Download, our weekday newsletter that provides a daily dose of what’s going on in the world of technology. AI’s impact on elections is being overblown —Felix…”Source: Read MoreSource Link: https://www.technologyreview.com/2024/09/03/1103506/the-download-election-tech-fears-and-ai-for-teachers/#GoogleNews – BLOGGER – GoogleNews http://109.70.148.72/~merchant29/6network/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/1725405008_505_il_570xN.2530472891_csv7.jpg BLOGGER - #GLOBAL