#I am looking up Google maps in your town

[igni-ard-bladeandbard]

Yes but it’s so hard to MEET THOSE PEOPLE, unless you are on this accursed website but even then people don’t aggressively try to befriend each other even when you are matched evenly in tastes

why do ppl do drugs when you can just experience the absolute high of meeting someone who isn’t just unhinged about your fandom but is also feral about your otps

[jujutsubaby]

🫧 skin care daddy 🫧

☆ pairing: satoru gojo x afab!reader ☆ summary: your skin's been breaking out recently and you're stressed at work and you have your sister's wedding to attend in a week. according to the internet, this is the best spa in town, and you're lowkey desperate at this point...it can't be that bad right? ☆ tags: modern au ☆ warnings: penetrative sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (f!recieving), facial, dirty talk, fingering, flicking the bean?? idk ☆ a/n: guys i swear i am cooking in the kitchen with the asks from my follower event AND other shit OK!! sorry for the wait on everything but here is a little crumb bc i love u all!! i was feeling unhinged bc i saw two things: 1) a spa called skin care daddy and 2) a post or one shot where the reader got a facial from gojo and it cleared her skin. idk i just felt inspired to make this bc it felt the universe was asking me to. not proofread some plot with corn u know the vibes babes xx ☆ word count: 7k+

"sorry, we're all booked for this weekend and the next. we usually recommend that our customers book 3 weeks in advance for our services at the ritz carlton luxury spa." the lady on the other end of the line was objectively speaking very politely, but you were far too frustrated with your situation to notice.

"great, yeah, no, thanks." you say quickly, hanging up the phone and groaning into your pillow.

"no luck at the ritz?" you turn to face your best friend, nobara.

"they're all booked, what a surprise!" you say sarcastically, your voice still slightly muffled by the pillow.

"i mean, c'mon, y/n. your face is not that bad..." nobara tries and deeply fails to comfort you, making you chuckle half heartedly.

you get up from your bed and walk over to the full body mirror of your closet in order to get up close and personal with your face. your fingers stretch on the skin around your breakouts as you study them with determination, as if just willing them to be gone will do the trick. it doesn't.

"it's bad enough that all the aunties will say something snarky to me all day."

you're usually one to always follow through on your skincare routine, am and pm, and watch what you eat carefully so that you don't get breakouts. but you recently went through a rough patch (read: a hellish period) and your face took the brunt of the damage. it wasn't your fault you were having massive cramps and craved hot cheetos the entire week (it was so worth it) but now, a week before your sister's wedding, you're facing the consequences.

you sigh. the ritz was the fifth place you guys called that didn't have any space for an all day facial, but you couldn't run out of hope. back to the drawing board.

you open up your laptop and get back to searching on google maps, as nobara does the same thing. you're grateful she's helping you out during your, albeit, dumb crisis, but what are girl friendships for? a spa you've never heard of before suddenly catches your eye and you zoom in. skin care daddy? you read the finer print underneath it. best day spa in tokyo.

you snort. best day spa in tokyo my ass. if it really was the best day spa in tokyo, why have you never heard of it?

nobara laughs, almost on cue. "wait, dude, are you seeing this spa?" she turns her phone around and you see she's also looking at skin care daddy. "this has to be a joke, right? no way would they be allowed to open up a spa named that, right?"

"ohmygod, i was just looking at that!" you say excitedly. "it literally sounds like a sex bot made it for unsuspecting horny losers to click on and get like, a crazy virus." you both laugh at how ridiculous this place sounds.

nobara's laugh almost abruptly stops as she scrolls down the place. "wait, stop. this place has like...over ten thousand reviews and a 4.9 star rating..."

you immediately click on the place and take a closer look at the reviews and ratings and see she's right. "i don't think i've ever seen a place have this many reviews with consistent ratings?" your brows scrunch as you read aloud some of the top reviews.

"this spa has given me the some of the best facials of my life. i always come to this spa whenever i'm in the area, and the people working there are obsessed with taking care of their customers. 10/10" you're baffled by the review sounding so...weird but you think nothing of it. you make a mental note that you are kinda desperately looking for a miracle facial to help with your breakouts, so maybe you shouldn't count this place out just yet.

nobara half heartedly scoffs as she reads the next one. "i've had chronic acne and back pain for years until i saw someone from here who made me feel soo good. you'll be coming here all the time once you go. maybe even multiple times a day."

"how good can this place be if you have to go multiple times to make sure your spa treatment worked?" you say, rolling your eyes at these reviews. "these can't be real right?"

"they sound incentivized or like someone paid them to write it or somethin'" nobara surmises.

"maybe it's a cult or something," you say, causing both of you to double over in laughter.

"a cult disguised as a spa is a bit too insane, even for tokyo." nobara says as she scrolls through and skims more reviews. "aren't you looking for a facial anyway? everyone's saying they're really good here...you know...despite the..." she gestures with her hands the reviews on her phone.

"ugh, am i for real that desperate for clear skin that i'm willing to go to a shady ass day spa?" you roll on to your back on your bed and stare at the ceiling, contemplating.

"can't be that shady if it's ten thousand reviews. say what you want but that's a lot of reviews to pay money for."

nobara has a point. you grab your laptop and try to look for a link to their website and see they don't have a website. interesting. not a red flag but just interesting. maybe i have to call for bookings? you search for a phone number, but fail to find one.

"wait, are you able to find any contact for this spa?" you ask noabra and you see her squinting her eyes at the phone.

"no i wasn't but i saw a review that basically said this spa is a walk-in type of deal?"

"it's a walk-in but has thousands of reviews? how does that even work? people are probably waiting years in line to get in?"

"dunno," nobara shrugs, and puts her phone back in her pocket. "maybe it's like a 'if-you-know-you-know' type of thing so it's like popular through word of mouth of somethin'"

damn. even more shady, then. you chew on your lip and stare at the ceiling again, trying to imagine all the things your aunties will say to you at the wedding.

"27 and still unmarried? shame."

"oh, you really need to watch your diet, the breakouts will never go away otherwise."

"clear skin is the first step to find a man who will desire you, y/n."

you feel like your skin is burning thinking about the so-called "advice" you're likely to receive at the wedding. normally you wouldn't care, but your hormones have been kind of out of wack with the new birth control you started recently, and you're not sure if you can really take any form of bullshit other than your sister's this weekend.

your thoughts are interrupted by nobara getting up from your chair. "alright, i'm off to work. need a ride to skin care daddy?"

"yeah, actually," you say as you slowly get out of your bed and change our of your pajamas.

"wait, what?!" nobara says with wide eyes. "i was actually joking when i said that. are you seriously gonna go? y/n, i dunno about this one..."

"c'mon! it's like you said, it's weird but it's not necessarily shady..." you say, mostly trying to convince yourself as you put on a pair of your favorite lazy girl black flared yoga pants.

nobara seems to consider it for a moment before responding. "kay, fine. but if i take you there and it's some abandoned warehouse-"

"then we'll drive away. no way in hell i'm about to die for this place." you assure nobara, putting her at ease.

you quickly don a thrifted gray hoodie and put your hair up in a messy bun. you don't care to put on any makeup, since you're probably gonna have to take it off anyway. if the day spa isn't shady and in an abandoned warehouse.

you quickly grab your keys and wallet before gesturing to nobara to leave. she sighs, looking at her phone one more time.

"fuck it, let's go before i change my mind."

"okay it says it's just right around the corn-"

"OH MY GOD?!" you're unable to hold back your disbelief as nobara took the corner to, what you think, might the chicest and prettiest boutique you've ever laid eyes on. the front was adorned with a gorgeous light blue awning with european style bell-shaped pendant lights making it almost glow during the day time.

"what the hell...ain't no way..." noabra is at a loss for words for how fancy it looks. "they have the money to rent out a place like this but no website?"

"or have a phone number." you mumble as you open nobara's car door. you turn around and give her a quick wave. she tells you to give her a call and tell her how it is after and you promise to do so. as nobara drives off, all the skepticism evaporates from your body looking at the dainty and cute decor all over the place.

you walk in to a fairly large lobby, with a desk in the middle and waiting chairs surrounding it. the calming scent of lavender, green tea, and patchouli hits your nose, and your guard immediately drops; the aroma relaxes you almost instantly.

you look around and are surprised to see only two other women in the waiting chairs on their phone. one of them seemed older, kind of like a mother, and the other seemed to be your age, but far more demure.

"hey, there! welcome to skin care daddy! we're determined to take care of you all your needs, no matter what! how can i help you today?" your head whips around to the guy sitting at the reception desk, and you feel a bit embarrassed; he must've noticed how lost you looked here, and you force yourself to straighten up and regain your composure as you slowly walk to the front desk. you take a closer at the guy with shaggy black hair sitting in the chair in front of you.

"hi..." you squint to see the faint print on his name badge. "yuta".

"yup! that's me!" he chirps. you know he probably has to exaggerate his good mood for the sake of the job but it kind of irks you. "what can i do for you today, miss?"

"yeah, uhh...what services do you guys offer? i tried looking online but you guys didn't have a website and..." your wandering eyes can't help but look around skeptically around the front desk and the doors on either side of the lobby.

"well, we offer whatever you need, miss. just tell us what you're looking for and we'll have it. i guarantee it."

"okay, well. my sister's getting married next weekend and..." you gesture to your face. "my life has been all sorts of stressful and hormonal so honestly, i'm just looking for something that can help me feel refreshed-"

you're interrupted by someone entering in from the right side of the lobby door. it's a woman who, you must say, looks glowing. her skin is bright and she quite looks like she's almost levitating. guiding her out of the spa is a young man, around your age, with blond hair and round glasses. he's unbelievably built, with strong hands rubbing her back softly and a chiseled jaw. he's wearing what you think is the uniform of this place: white dress shirt with the top two buttons undone and black slacks.

your breath gets caught in your throat momentarily. no fucking way. this guy works here? he's so fucking...hot. you have to force your eyes to tear away from him as you try your hardest to focus back on your conversation with yuta.

yuta chuckles as he follows your gaze. "ah, yes, mr. nanami is a customer favorite esthetician here. anyway, seems like you're going through a rough time and you came to the perfect place! normally, i would recommend the oxygen facial, but since you said you have a wedding..." yuta types something on the computer for a bit. "personally, i would recommend the full body tokyo special."

you're not entirely what an oxygen facial is, nor what the tokyo special is, and you feel even more stupid asking this guy who seems to be in college for more information.

"um, sorry, what's a full body tokyo special? i think i just need a really good facial."

"oh no worries, miss. i apologize. the full body tokyo special consists of a hands-on full body aromatherapy massage and our famous milkbomb facial, which'll do wonders for your skin." he winks at you. why did he wink at you?

you're unable to think about whether or not you even wanna do anything here when a group of men barge in through the left door of the lobby, laughing loudly, before lowering their voices.

one of the men is a dark haired man, seemingly a little older than the other two and yourself, but also very much ripped just like mr. nanami. you tried not to stare at the skin tight black shirt he wore that attenuated his pecs but miserably failed. he took the quickest glance at you and gave the faintest smile, revealing a slight scar on the left side of his lip. a scar that makes him sexier? you've gotta be kidding me. you follow his gaze to the older woman you saw sitting here when you came in, who know looks completely enamored by the man.

"there's my favorite mama," the man coos, holding an arm out for her as she skipped to him. he leads her to the other door, and you could hear them giggling and talking, as if this wasn't the first time they've seen each other.

"aight, see ya later, man." the other dark haired man said to his friend, before making eye contact with you, and then giving a slight smirk to yuta. he heads straight to the demure girl you saw when you walked in, and holds his hand out to her and she blushes and grabs it.

"th-thanks for seeing me again, geto-san." the girl says so softly that you have to strain your ears to listen.

"i told you to call me suguru..." you hear him joke as they disappear behind the door.

"like what you see?" you turn your head to the last guy, who now is far too close for your liking. you take a small step back, which makes him chuckle.

"yuta-kun! who do we have here?" the man asks boisterously. despite being indoors, he's wearing dark circled sunglasses. what a douche.

"oh, hey gojo-sensei. this is..." yuta looks at you, waiting for you to say your name.

"y/n." you say a bit too late, still trying to process the barrage of attractive men that just showed up all at once and what they had to do with the spa.

yuta starts filling in the man about what you were looking for, as you take in the man who's intently listening to him. he has white hair, and is wearing the same uniform as mr. nanami was, with three buttons undone and his hair slightly disheveled. he's also really tall. like really tall. like he towers over you easily tall. but also, just as well built like everyone else.

what is this place? you knew men could work in salons and parlors and spas, but this place seemed to be exclusively run by them. and not just any men, really attractive men. and what's worse is that you were not complaining. sure, it's a bit weird but there's really no other choice for you at this point.

"ahh, the tokyo special, huh?" he says, turning at you and giving you a bright smile which you suspect he gives to everyone who comes in here. "nice choice."

"he's the one who chose it, and i'm not even sure if i want it." you say, pointing to yuta, and trying your hardest to stand your ground. you have to really make sure this spa treatment is actually gonna help and not just a scam for your money.

"well, he chose right. i've never seen you here before, so you must be new here, right?" you nod, suddenly feeling really small and embarrassed about your attitude before. god, you're never one to behave badly in front of service workers. the hormones are really doing a number on your mood. maybe you could benefit from this "tokyo special".

he leans down to meet your eyes and takes off his sunglasses, and you’re face to face with the most gorgeous ocean blue eyes you've ever seen. through an almost hypnotic effect, you feel much calmer than you did before, and more trusting of him. "well, lucky for you, i've got an opening right now. i'll help you feel right at home." he gives you a wink, and you can't help but feel there's some other hidden meaning behind what he says.

"umm...well..." you say, holding on to the thin strings of your resolve.

"gojo-sensei is the best masseuse and esthetician here, especially for first timers like yourself, miss y/n. i guarantee you'll leave the establishment more than satisfied with his work." yuta assures you with a smile.

and with that, your resolve completely dissolves and you nod and hand him your credit card and he takes the information. gojo touches the small of your back ever so slightly, and you hope he doesn't feel you shiver at his touch.

"he just loves kissing up to me so he can get a full time job here after college. i'm his favorite cousin, after all." he says, making you giggle as you walk through the two panel doors into the spa.

"thanks for taking me in during your opening, mr. gojo." you say politely, feeling grateful as he leads you down the corridor of the neat, clean, and minimally decorated hallway.

"i think you're gonna be the one taking me in," gojo mumbles under his breath while opening the door to a room that looked like a doctor's office. a single lavender massage table greets you with small cabinets on either side.

you're unable to catch what he said. "what? did you say something?"

"i said call me satoru. no need to get so formal with me, i'm just some dude who works here." he chuckles. he locks the door as you sit up on the massage table awkwardly, unsure of how you should be positioning yourself or what exactly he was planning.

gojo goes to the corner and pulls out a fluffy white bathrobe and hands it to you. you're blown away by how soft it feels in your hands -- luxury at it's finest, you guess.

"okay, i just have a quick questionnaire i need you to fill out, probably will take around a minute," he says, as he grabs a clipboard with a pen attached to it from another drawer and takes a seat on a padded lab stool. he rolls closer to you until his long slender legs are almost touching your calves.

"alrighty here...okay, first question…” the questions gojo reads off are normal enough, with various clauses consenting to the spa treatment, confirming your age, and so forth. they don’t start getting weird until later. “ok last three, we’re almost done.” you notice a shit-eating grin on his face as he scribbles your answer to the previous question. “okay, are you a virgin?”

“what?!” 

“are you a virg-”

“i heard you the first time. what kinda question is that? that’s so invasive, what the hell are you play-” you’re ready to give an entire speech to this guy about how inappropriate and irrelevant the question is. 

“it’s fine if you don’t wanna answer it, i just can’t continue the treatment if you don’t.” gojo says this so simply and nonchalantly, as if the question was about your favorite color, and not an intimate detail about your sexuality. 

“okay, fine. not a virgin.” you cross your hands in irritation. 

“not…a...virgin…” you hear him say under his breath as he scribbles something you cannot see on his clipboard. you try leaning forward to see what he’s writing (and if there really was a question like that on the questionnaire but he quickly pulls it closer to his chest, giving you a teasing smirk. “are you on birth control?”

“y-yes?” 

“good to know. last question: got any STDs i need to know about?”

oh, for fuck’s sake. this is ridiculous. does he think you’ve never been to a spa before? the usual thai place you go to never asks this many questions. “do you have any STDs i need to worry about? what is this? 20 questions?”

“you can ask them to me back, i’d be happy to answer them.” he says calmly with a coy smile. “in fact, i’ll answer them right now. no, no, and no.”

you sign in defeat. “no for me too.” maybe this is what happens when a place has like, ten thousand 5 star reviews on google maps. they just ask the weirdest questions. there’s a small voice berating yourself for folding so easily regarding his questions, but whatever. you’re ready to get this treatment over with. 

“okay, take off all your clothes and wear the bathrobe. do you want me to step outside?”

what the hell kinda question is that? of course, he’s supposed to step outside? “um, yeah?” you say it almost obviously, not feeling bad about the attitude that’s coming out of you. 

gojo raises his hand in surrender. “sorry, just askin’...” he grabs his clipboard and steps out of the room, saying he’ll be back in five minutes for the warm up massage. you quickly undress yourself. you have a feeling he’s the type to come in within seconds of knocking on the door without checking to see if you’re decent. you’re unsure where to place your clothes other than the table next to the cabinet so you neatly fold them, hiding your underwear and bra within the folds of your yoga pants and sweatshirt. 

just as promised, gojo shows up five minutes later with one knock before welcoming himself in. he’s holding a dark colored glass bottle filled with a calming essential oil for massaging, and turns on the diffuser in the room. 

“thanks for undressing,” he says, looking at the neatly folded pile of clothes on the counter. “alright, here’s how this is gonna go. i’m gonna give you a nice full body massage to loosen your muscles up, and then we do the facial last, sound good, princess?” 

your skin tingles at him calling you that nickname, but you ignore it. there’s no way i can let my mind wander like that when he’s giving me a massage. you nod your head in agreement, and lay on your back slowly, fidgeting with the ends of  your bathrobe so that you’re not totally exposed to him. gojo slowly hovers his hands over you and lightly touches your stomach, patting it to get your attention, but it causes you suck in a breath a bit too loudly. 

“gotta go on your stomach for me for this one,” he says, urging you to flip around. “gonna undo this, okay?” he tugs at the knot you made on your bathrobe and you nod. he slowly undoes it, and you feel exposed as your breasts peek out through the sides. you cross your legs almost immediately, feeling incredibly exposed in front of a fully clothed gojo. 

you quickly turn on your stomach before he has a chance to take in your body. you feel his cold fingers slowly expose your back, as he stops right before the hump of your ass. you hear him squeezing out some of the oil and warming it up in his hands as he gets to work on your back. 

you suck in a sharp breath between your teeth as his cold fingers explore the knots on your back. 

“cold isn’t it? you’ll get used to my fingers, promise,” he says sweetly, as he hits a spot on your back that’s been particularly bothering you as of late. it’s too late when you let out a moan, and you hear him chuckle. “hit the right spot, didn’t i?”

he continues to undo the knot on your back, and moan back a breathy affirmation as you continue to try (and fail) to hold back your noises. “f-fuck, gojo, that feels s-so good…” you say in between his movements. 

you feel his hot breath in your ear. “told ya to call me satoru, don’t forget it next time, princess.” this time, the nickname goes straight to your pussy. it’s hard to cross your legs when you’re on your stomach and feeling delirious with the pleasure that came from the pressure of his slender fingers. 

unbeknownst you, your soft moans are slowly making their way down to gojo’s member, as he gets harder by the second. he doesn’t want to make it so obvious just yet – he’s just getting start after all. he can’t just blow his load this close into the session, but you’re sure as hell giving him a run for his money. 

“feel good?” you moan in response. gojo slowly inches his fingers down closer and closer to your ass, until it reaches the hem of your bathrobe covering it. “gonna move this down so i can do your legs, yeah?”

gojo will admit, he was a bit too excited to see your ass as he removed your bathrobe down before you could give a proper “yes” but it didn’t matter when you’re soft breaths were giving him the answer he needed. it takes everything in him to not knead the rounds of your perfect ass (he swears your cheeks were made for his hands) and move straight to your calves. 

he slowly massages the soles of your feet and calves with the oil as he moves closer to your thighs, all while relishing in your sweet moans. once he’s at your thighs, the real fun begins. gojo knows this routine like the back of his hands. 

you hear him sigh in confusion. “is everything okay?” you turn your head slightly to see him. 

“sorry about this princess, but you’re gonna have to spread your legs a little bit for me. it’s hard to get every inch of you warmed up, otherwise.”

you obey him almost too easily, and shift your thighs so that there’s more room for him to touch with his fingers. gojo’s hands reach up to slightly cup your ass, before his thumbs slowly slide into your inner thigh, lightly massaging you.

your breaths are getting shallower and louder, and you pray he doesn't go any closer to your pussy so he doesn’t see how soaked you are. you’ve never had a massage like this before, but you also don’t want him to stop. 

gojo’s fingers play with the space of your inner thigh before he spreads you apart, exposing you. you breath catches in your throat, and he performs the next part of his act. 

“we’ve got a pretty unconventional way of massaging our clients, princess.” you hear his voice straining. “gotta make sure you’re relaxed everywhere, but you gotta let me take care of you. think you can do that? all you have to do is relax, and let daddy do everything for you.” you can hear the lust dripping from his voice, but to be honest, you couldn’t give a shit at this point. 

“y-yeah, please, satoru, whatever you want. please, i just…i just feel so good right now,” you say, your eyes shut tight, and your hips practically squirming under his touch. you think you might go insane if he doesn’t touch you there in the next second. 

hook, line, and sinker. who’s gojo to deny your request? he graduated top of his class at his cosmetology and esthetician university, after all. his fingers glide almost too easily between your folds as he starts playing with your throbbing core. he can feel how needy your pussy is for his hands as he spreads your slick all over your core. 

the pleasure immediately gets caught in the pillow that muffles your moans. fuck, so this is what all the reviews were talking about. you feel his fingertips dancing around your clit and you want to shout at him to pay attention to it. 

“s-satoru~ p-please…i need you right there…” you say in between your moans. 

“where? here?” gojo’s finger taps your clit lightly, and it makes your entire body twitch with pleasure. he has to press down on the small of your back to keep you place as his fingers rub circles around your bundle of nerves, making you whimper. you unconsciously grind your hips against his fingers, trying to get close to your release. 

“need a better angle. face down, ass up.” gojo commands, and your body conforms to his words. you prop your lower body up with your knees while your face is sideways against the head of the massage table. he uses this now better angle to really rub his fingers into your folds and bundle of nerves, sending electricity throughout your body. you feel the dam building up inside you and threatening to break. 

“satoru~ i’m-i’m getting c-close…ah~” you hands grip on to the sides of the massage table as you brace for the earth shattering orgasm to rip through you, and with gojo’s deft fingers, you’re on cloud nine in no time. 

your body slumps back down and your eyes roll back as the vibrations of your release still radiate through your body. you hear  your pulse pumping through your head as you try to catch you breath, but you feel gojo’s now warm hands flip you on your back, and his face inches from yours. 

“you took that so well, princess. we’re not done, yet. there’s still another part of your body that needs to warm up.” you don’t have time to process what he means as he inserts two fingers into his mouth and then deep inside your entrance. your gasp is muffled by his mouth connecting to yours, hard, teeth and all. his fingers are long, and they easily find your sensitive g-spot as they curl upwards and bully your internal bundle of nerves. it’s quite embarrassing how quickly you’re ready for another release, and how hungry your entrance was for his finger, practically sucking them in and clenching around them immediately. 

“f-fuck~ i’m about to-” you don’t get to finish your sentence, as another orgasm rips through your body. gojo kisses you again to block your moans, and your hands wrap around his neck to pull him even closer to you. he playfully bites on your lower lip as you ride out your release on his fingers. 

gojo’s kisses turn into soft quick pecks as your breathing steadies and your eyes can focus again. “we’re not done yet,” he teases, slowly taking his slick coated fingers out of you. 

you don’t even have the energy to respond back as he flips you on you back. through heavy eyes, you look back up at him, biting back a moan as he restarts rubbing circles on your extremely sensitive clit. he needs to take off his shirt and fuck you already. 

“need something?” gojo teases, sensing your neediness from just your eyes. 

“take off your shirt, dumbass.” you say through gritted teeth. 

“try again.” he presses harder on your clit, and you let out an unsanctioned yelp through your teeth. 

“f-fuck~ please take off your shirt, dumbass.”

he smiles. “well, if you insist…” he rolls his eyes, feigning inconvenience, but the slowly growing tent in his pants says otherwise. gojo unbuttons his shirt, revealing a perfectly sculpted torso. now this is just unfair. 

“geez, my eyes are up here.” he teases, smirking at you as you quickly meet his eyes and feel your face flush. he unbuckles his belt and you slowly sit up from the massage table. you’re overcome with the urge to touch him, everywhere. you hook your finger to the belt loop of his pants and pull him closer to you. 

gojo smirks as he wraps his arms around hips and leans down to kiss you deeply. you feel your core ache for his touch again as his tongue explores your mouth again. you trace his perfectly sculpted torso, the indents of his abs slightly sweaty to your touch. your hands slowly make their way to the zipper of his slacks, but gojo immediately grabs your wrist to stop you from taking them fully off. 

“not just yet…” he murmurs in between kisses. while his lips are still locked on you, he slowly pushes your body back on the massage table and starts kissing down your bare stomach, the measly bathrobe long since discarded somewhere on the floor. gojo leaves small wet kisses along your body until he reaches your inner thighs. 

you suck in a breath as you involuntarily spread your legs for him, earning an enthusiastic hum from gojo, who’s still continuing to leave a trail of kisses that are inching closer and closer to where you need his mouth to be the most. “p-please~” you moan, your eyes closed in bliss. 

“please what, princess? use your words,” gojo coos, coming face to face with your soaking wet core. he blows on the sensitive bundle of nerves, causing your legs to twitch.

you can’t stand his fucking teasing but you need to be eaten out, so bad. “f-fuck y-you, gojo~” you say, pushing your core up to his face, trying to aim for his mouth before he easily pushes your hips back on the table. you hear him tsk in disapproval, and tears welling up in your eyes in desperation. “please, your tongue…inside me…please~” you whimper weakly. 

“since you begged so nicely…” gojo says before he immediately plunges his tongue inside you, almost making you scream. his tongue expertly explores your folds and sucks on your clit, making you inadvertently grind on his face. “y’taste so delicious, princess,” he says between licks as he eats you out like it’s the last pussy on earth. 

his ministrations with his tongue has you teetering on the edge in record time, and you’re threatening to spill within minutes of him eating you out. as the third wave of pleasure washes over you, you don’t have the energy in you to ask for permission as you feel your body tingle in the aftermath of it. you think you made a mess all over the massage table and gojo’s face, but you don’t have it in you to care as your eyes roll back. 

you feel gojo unbuckle his belt and take off his slack and underwear, exposing his hard member in his hands. you can see the precum leaking out the tip as you weakly lean on your elbows to prop yourself up. 

“see, princess, all those questions did have a reason after all…” he says in between breaths as he strokes himself, looking at your naked glistening body. you spread your legs further in anticipation of feeling him. “but there you were, being such a fuckin’ brat about answering them…” gojo says, eyebrows furrowing as he brings his tip closer to your core and you bite your lip in anticipation. 

“guess you better fuck the attitude outta me, then?” you say, looking up at him through heavy lidded eyes filled with mindless lust. you don’t even care about the consequences or who hears or even if you get your facial – you just need him. every part of your body craved him. 

gojo wastes no time at your suggestion, his tip entering you as you let out a lecherous moan. you feel the initial pain of his larger than average member tearing your tight entrance apart, and bite back a moan. gojo grits his teeth as he lets out a steady throaty groan. 

“fuck, princess. so fuckin’ tight. sure you’re not a virgin?” 

“s’too much satoru, y-you’re huge…ahh~” 

“too bad, princess.” he says, surprising you as he starts thrusting agonizingly slowly into you, bottoming out and effectively reaching the sensitive spot inside you. pain slowly turns into pleasure as you indulge in the feeling of your g-spot getting kissed by his member – the spot that you can never reach by yourself using your own fingers.  

“f-faster, please~” you urge gojo, and he obliges almost immediately, quickening his pace. he bullies your sloppy and wet core, as he watches your titties bounce with every thrust. unlike most people his age, it’s times like this where gojo realizes he really fucking loves his job. 

he reaches out and gives your titties a rough squeeze while he remains unrelenting in his pace. he feels your pussy clench around him, and he knows you’re close, and if he’s being honest, so is he. but he cannot cum just yet, and definitely not before you do. gojo abandons your titties and slides down his fingers to your clit as he starts rubbing inelegant circles around it, getting you closer and closer to the edge. 

you feel the dam breaking once again as the combination of him rubbing and fucking you comes to a climax. the orgasm travels to every corner of your body, as you see stars in your vision while gojo fucks your brains out. you hold on to his shoulders to steady yourself. based on how sloppily gojo is getting, you can tell he’s about to get close, too. you’re about to brace for him to finish inside you, when he abruptly pulls out, earning him a confused look from you. 

“lay down,” he commands more than asks, as he hastily pushes your chest down on the massage table. your sweaty skin sticks to the faux leather, but you don’t pay attention as he moves to the side of your face, holding his soaked member near it. 

gojo starts stroking his throbbing leaking member sensually, and you innately open your mouth and stick your tongue out. so this is the facial? the dots connected in your head at the same time gojo’s ropes of warm cum decorated your face – chin, cheeks, mouth, and all. you hear gojo’s throaty groans as he finishes on you and make sure not a single drop that gets on or near mouth gets wasted, swallowing pridefully. 

gojo leans closer to your ear as he catches his breath from his climax. “that’s the milkbomb facial,” he says cheekily, and you can’t help but giggle. you both take a couple more seconds to catch your breath. you watch gojo as he puts on his pants and tucks in his shirt, looking like he didn’t just fuck the shit out of you. he runs his fingers through his hair quickly as he goes to the counter and pulls out a warm eucalyptus towel as he takes his time to gently wipe your face and body. 

“that was fun,” you murmur, looking at the ceiling, finally understanding what the reviews you read about this earlier place meant. you definitely came here, multiple times in one day for sure. 

gojo chuckles as he goes over to wash his hands and you notice his forearms are glistening with your release. “that’s why we’re the best spa out here, princess.”

you notice your legs shaking slightly, but you manage to hop off the massage table, slightly dazed. gojo notices and helps you get on your feet and put on your clothes. the entire activity is soft and gentle compared to how he was just a couple minutes before. 

everything that you both have done in the past hour finally dawns on you, and you suddenly feel very shy despite whatever the contrary happened on the massage table. it’s so awkward now, like, what do you guys even talk about now? does he do this to everyone? is this their entire schtick?

“do you…do this with all your clients?” you whisper to him as you follow him out into the hallway to the exit. you cross your hands tightly to your chest, as if it’s shrouding you from other people finding out what happened in the room behind you. 

“ah, i’m not one to kiss and tell.” gojo puts his hands in his pockets and glances back at you, giving you a quick wink as you follow behind him, trying to keep up with him as he turns corners.s

“oh, so you do do this everyone, huh?” you challenge, your shyness slowly melting away with gojo’s playful tone.. 

“did you enjoy it?”

a pause from you.. “yes.”

“then don’t worry about it, kitten.” gojo pauses before he opens the door and turns to you. “listen, i wouldn’t mind if you came here again for the tokyo special, you know. i’ll even give you a discount, too.” he says earnestly. 

you let out a giggle. “oh? a discount?”

“yeah, the tight pussy discount.”

“shut up!” you say, and you playfully smack his shoulder, and you both laugh. 

“so… is that a yes? i’ll see you next week?” 

you bite your lip. “maybe, i dunno.” you give him a wink before opening the door, and you both know fully well that you’ll be back on the massage table again in no time with gojo pounding into you. 

needless to say, gojo wasn’t lying when he said they were the best spa in town because by the time your sister’s wedding came around, your face was quite literally glowing. 

“wow! y/n – you’re just looking so radiant today! what’s your secret?” an auntie who’s name you cannot remember gleams, looking at you. 

you smirk, and try to hold back the heat from flushing your cheeks. “oh, just a really good facial,” you say. technically, you’re being honest, right?

“jesus, dude. is this all from skin care daddy?” nobara says, as the tenth person from the wedding compliments your skin. 

“you have no idea. they really know what they’re doing.” you say nonchalantly. you pull out your phone and text a recently saved number. 

you: got any slots for a tokyo special tomorrow?

within minutes you get a response: 

gojo: u know i do babygirl. btw a new guy just joined our spa. hope it’s cool sukuna joins to observe  😈

[kayleigh-83]

Two questions here one is a wcif because I can’t think of the word to try to google and find the item myself. In your hotel at the island destination where are those columns from? The white sort of lace cut out ones it’s the purple fancy hotel. Second question is I remember reading about your Palm Springs inspired vacation destination and I was wondering if you’ve made any progress on it I would love to see some more of that. Happy simming 😊

Using a better picture from a different lot since I actually use these columns all over that hood! These gorgeous columns are from here (and I think you may need these too?)

As for the second, call-out half of this ask 😭 LOL noooooo I have been sooo bad about working on Saguaro Springs! I do think about it. I just don't actually work on it. Haven't felt inspired sadly!

However just recently I realised I could use the new SimPE tools to change the roads in the town and that got me a lot more excited, because part of what has been holding me up is not being 100% happy with the terrain map I chose, but also not finding any other I liked more.

Pinecone Peaks was also in a state of incomplete limbo for a very long time, until I found a terrain I liked better, hood replaced it, and was off to the races. So thank you for calling me out lol, I am going to open up my game, look at that map, and make some notes for changes I can make so I can get working on that again. I have been in a building mood!

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Not Everything Is What It Seems

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Princess!Reader

Word Count: ~3.2k

Warnings: fluff and angst

Summary: More of your past comes rushing to the surface, reminding you that if you’re not careful, you’re not the only one who will get burned. Relationships are formed, bonds are made, and trust is tested. Not everything is what it seems.

Play Pretend Masterlist

Square Filled: "We go on three." for @mfbingo

Author’s Note: i used google translate for German so sorry if there are any mistakes!

x

Then

It’s taking everything in you not to break down in tears right now. Your wedding is coming up in less than three months and you’re completely dreading it. Most women look forward to their wedding and see it as a day of happiness and celebration. Your wedding is a day of sadness and fear that all you’re ever going to be is Y/N, the wife of Henry Harrington. The Queen of Yacleira.

“Lift your arm.”

You look down at the tailor who is fitting your wedding dress to you. You do as you’re told and she slides a pin into place to make the dress more form-fitting. It’s a beautiful dress made only with the finest fabrics money can buy. The dress is a pinkish-beige color instead of the traditional white most dresses are. The strapless bodice has golden swirls and diamonds are placed sporadically along the spiral lines. Extra fabric was sewn onto both sides of the dress to give it a more full and voluminous look. Those pieces of fabric start from your waist and go all the way down to the ground to meet the bottom of the dress. The fabric is curled over each other to create a sort of wavy look that looks natural. The bottom of the entire dress has fluffy ruffles and a train flows behind you.

If the circumstances were different, you’d be happy to wear it. Instead, you feel disappointed and empty inside. The door opens and your mother walks in alone to see the progress of the dress. Besides the tailor, the only other people in the room are a few seamstresses, Benjamin, and two other guards.

“My, look how beautiful you look,” your mother grins.

“Don’t flatter me, Mother.”

“Y/N. You need to start having a better attitude. This is the best for our country.”

You look at her with hints of tears in your eyes.

“What about what’s best for me?”

“Leave us,” your mother orders. Immediately, everyone drops what they’re doing and starts to shuffle out of the room. Benjamin is the last one out and he looks at you with a sorrowful look before closing the door. “You know, I got married when I was your age to your father, and look where I am now.”

“But you two were in love. I do not love Henry.”

“You need to marry, Y/N. It’s not only tradition but required. That is what it means to be Princess around here.”

“You’d really sacrifice your daughter’s happiness for the sake of this country?”

Your mother stiffens at your question. She sees how unhappy you are to be marrying someone you do not love only to be a housewife for the rest of your life. The only purpose of a princess is to marry a prince and become the queen of her country. If you had a brother, the responsibility would fall on him instead.

“Yes.”

Now

You look at yourself in the mirror and run the beauty blender over your face to fix a spot of your makeup. Perfect. You’re ready to go. Spencer is almost here to pick you up for your date. Don walks out of his bedroom and closes the door before noticing you in the hallway by the front door.

“Don’t you have work today?”

“No.”

“Where are you going?”

“Spencer is picking me up. We’re going to hang out.”

“You mean date?”

“If that’s what you want to call it, sure.”

Don sighs and opens the hallway closet to grab his jacket.

“I don’t like you dating someone from the FBI.”

“There is nothing to worry about. I’ve given him no indication of who I really am. He doesn’t know about Yacleira. It’s barely on any map.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“It’s going to be fine.”

“Fine,” he sighs. “Look, I have to go out of town so you’ll be alone tonight. I’ll be back tomorrow morning.”

“For what?”

“Just making sure you’re safe and not found out. Don’t worry about me.”

Don slides his jacket on and grabs his briefcase before leaving the house. You look back at your reflection and fix your hair. You don’t have time to change into a different outfit because Spencer is already here. You swipe some lip gloss on your lips before grabbing your purse which only contains your driver’s license, some cash, and your phone. What else are you going to need? Spencer smiles when he sees you leave your house.

“Wow, you look beautiful,” he grins.

“Thank you.” Spencer leans in and kisses your cheek which causes them to heat up. This is technically your second date if you count the lunch he took you to when you first met him. He opens the passenger side door for you and closes it when you’re safely inside the car. He almost stumbles over his feet trying to get to the wheel which makes you smile. “So, what are we doing? Where are we going?”

“I don’t normally do this for dates but my friends are going mini-golfing and invited us. I figured  a date with friends might be more comfortable for you.”

“I think that’s a fun idea,” you smile, “but what’s mini-golfing?”

“You’ve never been golfing?”

“No. I haven’t done a lot of things.”

Spencer is confused since he remembers seeing a post on your Instagram that Penelope swiped over. It was of you and your family on a golf course. Maybe you watched a game instead of playing it but it’s certainly weird. Still, he’s not going to let that ruin a potential good time with you.

“Don’t worry, you’re going to love it.”

The car in front of your house has Spencer’s friends inside of it. His FBI friends. Everything is fine, Y/N. They’re not going to find out who you are. Your secret is safe. For now. You and Spencer climb into the backseat.

“Everyone, this is Y/N. Y/N, these are my friends. Derek, JJ, Emily, and Penelope.”

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you all.”

Derek sets off and arrives at the place in thirty minutes. The group walks inside and the two men pay for a game for everyone along with two arcade cards that they can enjoy. You walk away from the group to admire the many arcade games inside. There must be hundreds on the first and second floors of the building. People are enjoying them on both levels, and different sounds from the games rush at you like a freight train.

Whatever you were expecting certainly wasn’t this.

“Hey, I got us both an arcade card. It should be enough to last us an hour or so.”

“Thanks.”

Derek and Penelope go to the air hockey machine and Emily and JJ go to the Dance Dance machine to show off their moves. You nervously fiddle with your fingers and Spencer notices your slight anxiety. He pulls your left hand away and holds it to bring you some sort of comfort.

“What game do you want to play first?”

“I don’t know. You pick.”

“Okay.” Spencer leads you to the second story where the older arcade games are located such as Pac-Man, Galaga, Space Invaders, Centipede, and the pinball machines. The first floor has more modern games such as racing games, ice hockey, VR games, and a bunch of shooting games. “I prefer strategy over action. My favorite game to play is Pac-Man. It’s essentially all math. Once you memorize the movement pattern of the ghosts, you’ll beat every level.”

Spencer takes you to the machine and starts a new game. He plays first while you watch over his shoulder. He continues to talk about the history of the game but you tune him out. You don’t mean to but you’re a bit overwhelmed, if you’re being honest. You never had any of this back home. You were never allowed to go into crowds because someone could either kidnap you or hurt you. You weren't allowed to have friends outside of other royal families because they could use you and hurt you. All of this is brand new to you and it’s making your head spin.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Spencer abandons the game to join your side by the railing.

“I’m sorry, I’m just not used to this. I’m not a crowd person and I’ve never heard of any of these games before. Is mini-golfing like this?”

“No, it’s much more calming. Would you like to start a game outside?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. This isn’t for everyone. I get it. Come on.”

Spencer takes you downstairs and to his friends who are all gathered by the ice hockey table.

“Spencer! Want to play winner?” JJ asks.

“Y/N wants to start the golf game. Want to do that instead?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Spencer has such great friends for understanding that not everyone enjoys the arcade. Derek grabs a pencil and a score sheet while the attendant passes out clubs and balls to everyone. You don’t want to look like a total loser so you’ll watch the first few people go to understand how the game works.

JJ is the first one up and she ends up making it into the hole on the first try. Derek is up next and gets about halfway before the ball bounces into the wall and stalls in the middle of the course. Penelope is next and her ball joins Derek’s as she made the same mistake as he did.

“Y/N, you want to go?”

“Sure.”

You bite your lower lip nervously and set your ball on the small indent located at the start of the course. You’re not holding the club right, your stance is too wide, and Spencer knows if you hit the ball, it’s going to go flying off the course.

“Do you want some help?”

“Yeah.”

Spencer walks up behind you and wraps his arms around you to grab the club over your hands. Your cheeks immediately heat up from the contact, and Penelope smirks at Derek who just chuckles.

“When you hit the ball, just remember that the more force you use, the more likely it will bounce off the course.” He grabs your hands and slides them to the handle of the club where it’s supposed to be. “You want to have your hands here so you’re not straining your back from bending over all the time.” He nudges your feet to have them move closer to each other. “You want your feet closer because if you were to keep them where you had them before, you’re more likely to use a harder swing.”

“Okay, I understand.”

“Now, we go on three. Ready?”

He counts down before moving the club back, with his arms still around you, and hitting the ball gently. The ball races down the course past Derek and Penelope’s ball all the way to the hole where it sinks in.

“Look at that! Hole in one!”

“Hey, that’s not fair! You had help!” Emily gasps.

“She’s right,” you chuckle and retrieve your ball.

“Nah, that was all you,” Spencer grins and winks.

Again, your cheeks heat from the attention. Henry could never make you feel like how Spencer is making you feel. You’re getting used to the game the more you play it but you do miss the way Spencer’s arms feel around your body. You miss his warmth. The group moves to the tenth hold which is located on the edge of the entire course where the parking lot is.

Derek is taking his turn when you notice an older couple by the front talking with an employee. They seem upset so you walk closer to the railing that separates the parking lot from the course. The older couple speaks to the young man in German but he doesn’t understand the language. To you, it’s like they’re speaking English. Your mother made you take courses in many different languages at such a young age. The Princess of Yacleira needs to be fluent in a lot of languages for when she visits those countries. One of your good friends just so happens to be the Princess of Luxembourg and they border Germany.

“Excuse me, is everything okay?” you ask.

Spencer, JJ, Penelope, Derek, and Emily look over when they hear you speak and see the older couple and the golf course worker approach you.

“Sprechen Sie Deutsch?” Do you speak German?

“Ja, das tue ich. Was scheint das Problem zu sein?” Yes, I do. What seems to be the problem?

“Danke schön. Mein Mann hatte gerade einen Schlaganfall und der Arzt sagte uns, dass er sich nicht in der Nähe von lauten Geräuschen oder blinkenden Lichtern aufhalten dürfe. Er liebt Golfen und wir wollten wissen, ob dieser Platz diese Eigenschaften hat.”

You nod and put a finger up so you can translate what they said to the attendant.

“He just had a stroke, and they were wondering if this course had any flashing lights or loud noises.”

“Oh, no. The only lights on the course are the ones marked on the path and to light up some of the displays. I’d steer clear of the arcade, though.”

You translate what he said back to the older couple in German who are grateful to have someone who speaks their language.

“They’ll pay for one game of golf but not for the arcade.” The older couple thanks you again before leaving with the attendant. You smile and turn back to Spencer and his friends but pause when you see the shocked looks on their faces. “What?”

“You speak German?”

“Yeah. I learned it in school. I can also speak French, Spanish, Arabic, Swahili, and Japanese. I’m working on learning Sweden and Mandarin.” Again, they all continue to stare at you. “I had a lot of time on my hands when I was a kid. Shall we continue playing the game?”

The rest of the game went by smoothly but the fun didn’t stop there. Everyone wanted to play more arcade games so you and Spencer decided to eat something outside while they went and played. He got two orders of hot dogs and fries, something you have never had before. Spencer takes a bite of his hot dog and you do it exactly how he did it. Mustard and ketchup get all over your face but the food is delicious.

“You’re not like other girls. You’re so full of mystery but I can tell you’re a good person. Is that weird to say?” he chuckles.

“No.” You wipe your face and finish eating before speaking. “I’ve always strived to be the best I can be. I treat everyone with kindness.”

“Not everyone thinks that way.”

“There was this one time when I was younger, and I was walking the streets outside my home. I came across this family of two on the ground underneath the shade. They were homeless and hungry. I bought all of them food and blankets and stuff they might need to not only survive the night but for a couple of weeks.”

“That’s very noble of you.”

You don’t say it but you had to be. The Princess of Yacleira can’t be seen being rude to anyone. You were punished if you even said one thing out of the norm or did something that everyone else might perceive as bad.

“This isn’t as noble as that but one time I donated a bunch of books to libraries who didn’t have a lot of books to begin with.”

“That’s very kind of you,” you smile. “I love reading especially to children and the elderly. It brings me joy.”

“I agree.”

You and Spencer talk about your favorite books, the food long forgotten. Spencer has moved closer to you with every sentence, not that you mind. You lean in slowly for a kiss but the door opening makes you jump back in surprise.

“Did we interrupt something?” Derek smirks.

“No,” Spencer shakes his head.

“We better go. I have to get home. Henry won’t stop throwing up.”

“Who’s Henry?” you ask.

“My son,” JJ grins.

Your house is the first stop since everyone else lives closer than you do. Spencer gets out when you do so he can walk you to the front door.

“I had a fun time,” Spencer smiles.

“Me too. Maybe next time, I’ll take you on a date and invite you to my world.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

You and Spencer look into each other’s eyes, the tension rising with each second. You’re not sure if you should kiss him even though you want to. Spencer wants to kiss you but he doesn’t know if you want to do it in front of his friends.

“Oh, my God. Just kiss her already!” Derek shouts from the car.

His friends laugh and giggle but Spencer isn’t paying attention to them. He meets you halfway and kisses you like how he wanted to since the first date. You’ve never experienced anything like this before. Such raw emotion like you are meant to be kissing him. It doesn’t matter if a building is on fire or something, this kind of kiss makes the entire world disappear.

“I’ll call you, okay?” Spencer smiles.

“Okay.”

Spencer waits until you’re inside your house before allowing Derek to leave. You close the door behind you with a wide smile on your face. You’ll tell Spencer who you are eventually. You just need to make sure he’s the one before you do. You kick off your shoes and head to your room to turn in for the night.

James gets out of the car once he arrives at the safe house located on a farm in the middle of the woods. He and his friends chose this location to keep their activities hidden from local authorities. He grabs his briefcase and heads inside where his friends already are hanging out. Ryder, his best friend, is sharpening his knife collection. Kellen and Jacob are sitting on the couch drinking beers. Macy is on the computer checking to make sure their online activities stay hidden.

On the wall behind Macy are pictures of you as the Princess of Yacleira and as of Y/N, the barista, and weapons and other gadgets cover almost every surface.

“There he is,” Ryder grins. “I thought you were coming out two days ago.”

“I got held up.”

“And how is our Princess doing?”

“Doesn’t suspect a thing. Ben really did a terrible job putting her here. He didn’t even bother showing her a picture of what Don looks like. It’s cute knowing she thinks I’m pretending to be her uncle.”

“Anything else you’d like to tell us?” Jacob asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Spencer?”

James knew his friends would find out about Spencer sooner or later. Maybe that’s why he stalled coming back here.

“Everything is under control. I’m taking care of it.”

“He’s the fucking FBI. One wrong move and everything we’ve worked for goes crumbling. Are you sure you can handle it?”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” James snaps.

“So, what’s the plan?” Macy asks. “When can we start this? I already have three offshore accounts waiting for the money and safe houses in the Bahamas ready for us.”

“Soon. I have to get a few things sorted and contact a few people in Yacleira before we can go after Y/N. I have a few men on the inside who will tell me what Calliope and Elliot know. We can't just go storming in and demand for money. That’s how we get caught. Don’t worry, we’ll get the money we deserve.”

“Yeah, even if it means killing the Princess of Yacleira,” Jacob grins.

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[links-in-time]

Wild Visions - Chapter 8

Anyone writing LU or just zelda fics based in the BOTW Hyrule, I highly recommend downloading the interactive map. It's free from Google play and I use it all the time to find interesting locations for setting my stories. See if you can find where this fic ended up.

🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿

Deciding not to travel along the main road, Wild made for the quarry ruins to the west of Castle Town. Clambering over rocks and squeezing between trees made it difficult for Wild to keep his hand on Hyrule. Coming to a compromise, he pushed Hyrule ahead of him and ordered him to walk.

Head hanging, hands gripping his arms for comfort, Hyrule marched on. With Wild’s knife at his back, Hyrule began to try and think his way out of his predicament. There was no doubt that the being who awaited them in the castle ruins was Dark Link. No matter what happened, Hyrule could not allow Dark to get hold of him and release the curse on his blood. He would throw himself into fire or water before he let that happen.

“Wild, please, I am begging you to see reason.” Hyrule insisted “This isn't you, you don't want to do this!”

“You don't understand,” Wild replied, his voice sounding strained and a little croaky. “It's not what I want. But if I don't, he's going to make me drink that vial. I don't - I don't want to die again.”

“You don't have to,” Hyrule tried to reason with him.

At that moment the pair of them stepped out of the trees and were faced with a small lake. The water reflecting the black stillness of the sky. Hyrule had had enough, if he didn't try and help his brother now, he may as well slit his own wrists and be done with it. He stopped abruptly not far from the edge of the lake, fists clenched, boots digging into the muddy ground.

Wild almost collided with Hyrule's back, but managed to stop short. His knife was up and pointing at Hyrule at once, panic flooding through him in a cold wave as he feared what Hyrule might do next.

“What are you doing?” Wild demanded, struggling to keep his voice from shaking. “Keep walking!”

“No Wild,” Hyrule said quietly.

For a moment he squeezed his eyes shut and took several deep breaths. The traveler had faced many foes in his time. He'd sealed Ganon away twice and rescued two princesses. He'd faced monsters and evils that threatened to destroy his adopted home forever. But as Hyrule turned to face his brother, he felt his courage falter for the first time.

Wild looked scared and stricken, whatever Dark had done to him was clearly weighing on his soul. He looked exhausted, dark circles had appeared under his eyes where they had never been before. Though he was clearly trying to keep Hyrule under his control, the hand gripping Wild's knife began to shake imperceptibly.

“I'm not going any further. And if you want me to go to that castle, you're going to have to kill me and carry me there,” Hyrule said calmly. Much calmer than he felt at that moment.

“What?” Wild huffed, on the verge of hysterical laughter. “Come on, you don't mean that.”

“Yes Wild, I do. I'm deadly serious. I cannot let you take me with you. If it is your mission to take me to who I think you are, then I will die before I let that happen.”

Wild opened his mouth with another order on his lips. But he closed it again without letting it loose. For the first time that night he actually looked at Hyrule. The young hero seemed utterly calm and resolute. He stared back at Wild with eyes full of pity, not for himself, but for his brother.

“Please Wild. Link, please, try and fight whatever it is that has this hold over you.”

Hyrule's softly spoken words sent shock waves through Wild's frantic thoughts. Dark's threats and orders boomed loudly in his head, as though fighting with Hyrule for control.

Get Hyrule to the castle.

Drink the poison should you fail.

Contrasted with Hyrule's soft demeanor, Dark's harsh warnings were too strong to be ignored. Wild's grip hardened and his features contorted into a scowl.

“No, I can't!” Wild growled, low and dangerous. But his voice cracked on a sob the next time he spoke. “I'm sorry Rulie.”

Wild lunged, closing the distance between them in two long strides. Hyrule had been expecting the attack. He waited for Wild to swing his arm before blocking and twisting his wrist to make him drop the knife. Unarmed, Wild tried to make a swing at Hyrule's head. His fist connected with Hyrule's ear, leaving a piercing ringing echoing in his head.

Staggering with his head spinning from Wild's punch, Hyrule turned his momentum against him. The young hero threw himself into Wild, knocking him over.

“Oof!” Wild sputtered, as Hyrule knocked the wind out of him.

The pair fell against the damp grass in a tangled heap. Hyrule's legs became intertwined with Wild's and he struggled to get to his feet. Meanwhile, Wild attempted to recover from Hyrule's surprise tackle. In their struggle, Hyrule’s hand slipped over the pouch at Wild's hip, breaking open the clasp. It took Hyrule the length of a breath to make a single decision.

Digging his hand into Wild's pouch, Hyrule closed his fist around the tiny bottle.

“No!” Wild screamed.

With a kick of his left leg, Hyrule managed to wriggle himself free and stumbled upwards to his feet. He kept the glass bottle firmly gripped in his hand as he took several backwards steps away from Wild. As he did so, he kicked something with the back of his boot. Looking down, Hyrule found Wild's knife. However, as he stared he watched as the blade faded and disintegrated into black dust.

“Hyrule stop!” Wild shrieked.

He reached out a desperate hand to Hyrule, still kneeling on the wet grass, his knees starting to grow wet with dew. Everything in Wild's mind was screaming at him to lunge at Hyrule and tackle him back to the ground. But something in his soul said otherwise.

Hyrule was his brother.

Hyrule had to go to the castle.

Wild didn't want to die.

He had to take the poison.

“I know this was meant for you, but I can't get through to you. So I suppose I only have one choice left. And I'm sorry Link. I'm so, so sorry.” Hyrule said, lifting the bottle slowly and pulling out the cork.

The pair were so engrossed in their own situation, that neither heard the approach of voices, or the brush of leaves on the edge of the woods. Neither saw the gleam of Time's armour in the moonlight, or the speed with which Wind drew his sword. They never knew how quickly their brothers tried to reach them as Hyrule lifted the vial to his lips.

The poor teen’s hand was trembling, as his tips brushed the edge of the bottle. Hyrule closed his eyes as he tipped his head back and took a deep gulp.

“No!” Wild yelled, his voice echoing a hundred times over, though to him silence had descended.

In a mad panic, he scrambled forwards and caught Hyrule in his arms as he began to fall. Despite Wild's extra feeding, the younger hero still felt too light and small in his embrace.

“Rulie no, oh Hylia please no,” Wild whispered manically.

He gripped Hyrule's wrist, but his own heart was beating so fast he struggled to find a pulse. In a desperate attempt to save him, Wild pressed his mouth to Hyrule's lips to try and remove the poison. But no matter how he tried there was no trace of the amber liquid left.

Hyrule's body felt limp and slack between Wild's arms. His torso rested heavily on Wild's legs. He tried to cradle his head so that his neck didn't strain or flop about. Hyrule wouldn't like that, it would be too painful.

“What have you done?” Wild hissed, venom spitting from his tongue as he spoke.

“Me?” The soft, innocent voice of Dark Link replied.

The entity slithered out of Wild's shadow and materialised before the two heroes. He stood with his hands loosely clasped behind his back, head slightly cocked to one side.

“I have done nothing. It is you who failed in almost every way possible,” he said, gazing down at Wild with indifference.

“No, that's not true. It was your poison he took,” Wild bit back.

“True, but he needn't have taken it. If you had done what I asked, his end could have been more comfortable,” Dark sighed, switching his gaze from one boy to the other. “Shame.”

Wild could feel hot tears burning behind his eyes. A lump formed in his throat as he tried to form words strong enough for the creature before him. But the weight of Hyrule's body in his arms made his grief stronger than his rage.

“He was the best of all of us,” he sobbed.

“What's that?” Dark asked, irritated by Wild's mumbling.

But Wild wasn't speaking for Dark's benefit.

“Hyrule, he was the bravest, the kindest, and most selfless one of us all.” Wild continued.

“Whatever,” Dark scoffed, growing increasingly bored by Wild's eulogy. “Right hand him over and I can finish what I came here for.”

The callousness with which Dark treated Hyrule's sacrifice, finally made something snap in Wild's mind. A shadow, which had soured his thoughts and his sight was blown away, as if by a summer breeze. He stared down at Hyrule's face, still flushed with life.

As Wild lifted his gaze, he met Dark's scarlet stare and sensed his impatience. He stood hands on hips, expecting Wild to obey his last command. But it no longer tugged at Wild's self control. The link between them had been severed. Hyrule had given his life to save Wild from being forced to do it himself. His sacrifice had been the jolt Wild needed to free himself of Dark's control.

“No. He's not going anywhere with you. And neither am I,” Wild said, resolute in his conviction.

At once all of his confidence and courage came rushing back to him. Like heat being blown into a furnace Wild felt himself come alive, despite Dark's best efforts.

The trampling of boots and the sound of swords being unsheathed finally reached Wild's ears. His lips curled as he locked eyes with Dark.

“I'd start running if I were you. You thought they hated you when you injured Twilight. You don't want to find out what they'll do when they realise Hyrule is gone,” Wild warned. Wishing he could explain in detail, what he wanted to do to the shadow in recompense for Hyrule.

“This is not the end. You know that, don't you,” Dark hissed, warily eyeing the approaching heroes.

“I know. But you haven't won today, and that's a victory for us,” Wild replied firmly, his grip on Hyrule tightening slightly.

Dark bared his teeth, but Wild wasn't afraid. The shadow had already put him through the worst he could suffer. The power he held over the Champion had faded like the shadow of night at the coming of dawn. Wild stared up at Dark defiantly, as he watched the creature take a few nervous steps back.

In an instant he vanished. Slipping through the shadows of reality as though he had never been there at all. Wild let out a sigh of relief, however, it soon turned to tears as he turned to look down at his brother.

< Part 7 : Part 9 >

[zhoudadudugongjin]

Pls tell us all about the time you drove to whitby

OK so cast your minds back 4 years to February 2021. I had just passed my driving test 3 months before and had decided it was time to be brave and go on my first Big Driving Adventure. My chosen destination: A stately home about 15 miles north east of York (where I was living at the time) called Castle Howard.

I wanted to avoid traffic so I left at 7:30 am on a Sunday morning, and off I went in my little new (2nd hand) car up the A64. All was going well, until I got to the turn off I intended to take, and discovered the road was closed. Very well, no big deal, because there was another one. But then when I got to the second turn-off I discovered that was also blocked, and I'd slowed down so much in my determination to not miss it that I was now sitting stationary on the middle of a dual carriageway, on an incline and shitting my pants.

I started off again and was so nervous I missed the third turning, and it was about this time that I saw the sign to Whitby and I just decided "Fuck it, I'm going to Whitby." Now bear in mind that Ms. Google Maps was getting quite confused and distressed at this point and kept telling me to make a u-turn, but I just ignored her because I can read road signs, dammit.

Things started to look up, and I was feelings pretty confident with myself, until I got to The Bend.

I was not prepared for The Bend. It was in about two-thirds of the way down a picturesque, bumpy road that cut across the North Yorkshire Moors.

Here is a visual representation:

Now, to any experienced driver, or even a person who was familiar with the road, Saltergate Bank is probably no big deal. If I returned there now, 4 years later, I would probably navigate it absolutely fine. But on that occasion I massively underestimated how much I would need to slow down for this bend and had my closest brush with death/a serious car accident that I have had to date.

So after that I was shaking like a leaf, but I kept going because Whitby was only another 20 minutes away and I also really needed the toilet. And at just before 9am I pulled up by the seafront in the only free parking space still available. I looked on my phone for public toilets, and the only ones that were open at that time on a Sunday morning in February were right at the top of the hill just beneath the castle. So I walked all the way up the 199 steps for a piss and paid my 20p or £1 or whatever it was for the privilege.

So now after driving for 1h20 minutes, I was at the beautiful, famous seaside town of Whitby. It was winter, but the weather was still reasonable. I probably could have had a pleasant day or morning out, all things considered.

But I was shaken up, miserable and really fucking stressed. So I walked back down the steps without a second glance at the abbey. I returned to my car, got in and drove straight back home.

(Taking the roundabout route via Scarborough. Because I was a chicken.)

The End.

[thisliminalspacedaydreams]

Roadtrip (Part 1/?)

“I’m not going in the back.”

“You’re going in the back.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No—”

“Reggie is up front with me, I need a good guide.”

Regulus smirks at Sirius, tongue out and teasing as he opens the front door. “There you go, Sirius. I’m a good guide,” he says, closing the passenger side door with a snide smile.

Asshole.

Sirius throws hands, opening the back door and climbing in with Remus, who’s already settled in, kindle open. He doesn’t look up as Sirius slides in. “You know you were never getting in front, sweetheart, right?”

Sirius kisses his teeth. “It’s like Reggie’s trying to steal my best friend from me.”

Remus hums, “It’s possible to have several best friends.”

“No. James is one of a kind.”

Remus turns back to his kindle, “Then date him instead,” he shrugs.

“No!”

Remus’ eyes are back on Sirius, twinkling. “No?”

Turning to his right to grab the top of the security belt, Sirius mutters as he slides it on. “I don’t want to date him, I’m just saying he and Reggie have been chummy with—”

“Aannndd we’re ready to go,” James says as he slides into the driver’s side, smiling with all his teeth. “Take us away, space man,” he says, passing the map to Regulus, who opens it up.

“Tell me again why we aren’t using Google maps?” Sirius asks, and Regulus reaches back to slap the map over Sirius’ head.

“Hey!”

“Because Google maps is turning our brains into mush, and we’ll miss all the fun,” Regulus says.

Sirius rubs at his head. “All the fun of…knowing where to go?”

Regulus kisses his teeth. “I have a map, I know where to go.”

“But you could be using Google maps,” Sirius reasons.

“Yes, I could,” Regulus starts, with the tone of someone who is about to launch— “And I could also have chosen a different breakfast, a different degree, I could have decided to wake up and pick another type of shirt, there are so many options around me, all the time, and I am picking a map on purpose.”

“But—”

“It’s the adventure,” James interrupts again, pulling out of the main house.

The Black summer house is less of a house and more of a mansion, where most of them have been spending a lot of time this summer. To cap it off, the general consensus was that a road trip—wouldn’t it be fun?—would be a great way to end it. In two weeks, Remus and Sirius need to be back in England, where Remus will start teaching. James will head back to England a few days after. He’s got friends to see in Paris, so he’ll make the final leg of the drive up with Regulus before abandoning him to the clutches of City of Love while he goes back to London.

In the meantime?

Two weeks of road tripping the french countryside, from Cassis, where the Black family owns a house, all the way to Bordeaux, where the boys will take a train to Paris, leaving James and Regulus to climb up alone.

The problem Sirius has, is that Regulus and James have become friends.

The problem Sirius has, is that he is no longer the center of attention, the main tool through which everyone communicates. Over the course of the past two weeks, he has seen the blossoming friendship between his brother and his best friend, and he’s not—happy about that.

James has been remote working, and so has Regulus (who technically, is remote working from anywhere), while he and Remus have been on proper holidays. And okay, their schedules have been different. Okay, maybe James and Regulus have been left alone while Sirius took Remus out and about town, kayaking and paddle boarding to nearby islands, and maybe it would make sense for them to bond. And okay, it would have been sad for them not to get on, but they’re just… getting along too well. It’s freaking Sirius out.

“The adventure,” Regulus confirms, opening the map to its maximum before folding it back the way he prefers. “Right, Jamie, you’re going to take a left and follow the signs all the way to A50.”

Sirius is right there, once again, “Why Marseille, Reggie?”

“Because you’re going to have the best ice cream of your life there, that’s why.”

“But I hate Marseille.”

“And so you shall suffer.”

Sirius rears back, turning to look at Remus, who’s sporting a little, barely-there smirk, “He’s already bullying me!”

Remus doesn’t look up, reaching one hand to tangle it in Sirius’. “He’s not bullying you. You agreed to this road trip, you knew Reggie was going to pick the stops.”

“But Marseille?”

Regulus turns around from the passenger seat. “If I give you music rights, will you leave it?”

And that, is that.

Sirius grabs the aux cord and starts fiddling with Spotify. “Oh, there’s so much, I have so many ideas, let’s start with Chappell Roan.”

Regulus is quick to reach for the aux, “No, not Pink—”

“Pink Pony Club,” Sirius nods. “Yep. That’s the one.”

Regulus turns his head to James, please help, but James just shrugs. “I’m happy with all music.”

“No,” Regulus moans, just as Sirius fist pumps the air. “James, turn the car around.”

James doesn’t look up from the windshield. “Nope, we’re in this together now. No one is ruining this for me.”

“For you?” Regulus asks. “How has my road trip become yours?”

James sneaks a look at Regulus, “Since you sat next to me, polluting my work environment and telling me everything you wanted to do and whether everyone else would be on board.”

“That’s not how I remember it.”

James scoffs, “Sure it isn’t, Baby Black.”

“This is actually the worst thing to come out of this adventure,” Regulus says.

And Sirius is there, right away, putting his head in between the seats, pulling on his seatbelt. “Baby Black?”

“I like it,” James says right as Regulus quips, “It’s horrible.”

Sirius squints between the leather seats. “I can’t decide.”

“Sirius, the beauty of it,” James starts, taking a right, “is that there is nothing you have to decide on. It’s been decided on already. I like it, so I will use it.”

Regulus looks out the window, “I’m pretty sure that’s not how democracy works,” he pouts.

“Funny of you to think it’s a democracy. I am driving—”

“It’s my car—”

“I’m in charge of the music,” Sirius cuts in right before Remus grabs his arm and pulls him back to his seat behind Regulus, enough of that.

“Remus, they’re—”

“They are chatting. Leave them alone.”

“They’re flirting.”

“They’re not.”

Sirius turns to James. “James, are you flirting with my brother?”

“Um, not really?”

Remus turns to Sirius, “See?”, just as Regulus turns to James.

“’Um’? What a vote of confidence.”

“Well, do you want me to flirt with you?”

“No,” Sirius says, just as Regulus says nothing.

Regulus says nothing.

Regulus says.

Nothing.

“Reggie.”

Silence.

“Reggie.”

“Sirius, don’t say anything,” Remus says.

“I—”

“Just. Leave it.”

Sirius does.

For a minute.

“Okay, but—”

[blackboxtheater]

Hello there,

I don't think we are getting out of this one, Mumpearl girlies lol

Anyways, I would like one with the prompt "Sci-fi". Ya boi love sci-fi and space and all that and frankly either Mumbo or Pearl can be pretty alien-coded. <3 <3 <3

I'll be honest, considering how consistent the numbers have been for the last few days, I'll admit when the fandom has a clear choice.

If you haven't yet you can still vote for Mumpearl in the Mumbo Jumbo ship bracket!! And I will keep writing and fighting until the last moments of the poll just in case.

But prompts!!! Lets do prompts!!!

Sci-fi is actually one of my favorite genres to read!!! I devoured the Southern Reach series last year and it reminded me how much I love the genre. However I am more of a Hunger Games, Annihilation, This is How You Lose the Time War sci-fi person than a Star Wars, A Memory Called Empire, Cowboy Bebop sci-fi person. 

So when you said "space" this went a very, Area 51, southwestern US gothic, Roswell New Mexico, UFOs and little green men direction vs. real space. So sorry if that was not what you envisioned. Sci-fi is very broad and I know I picked a very small sliver of what it encompasses, so I hope its sci-fi enough despite its extremely terrestrial setting.

For context thought Marfa, Texas and the Marfa Lights Festival are very real, if not exactly as portrayed in this fic. It's such a small town I encourage you to wander the entire thing on Google Maps Street view.

Gem and The Scotts is also from the fantastic secret life modern AU that you should totally check out!

👽 👽 👽

Pearl was living with an alien.

That was the only explanation for all the strange things about Mumbo that just didn't add up.

But the final straw that broke her was that his legal government name was Mumbo Kyle Jumbo.

It was not Pearl's proudest moment when she saw his wallet sitting on the speckled Formica kitchen countertop, heard the shower running down the hall, and immediately flipped open the well-worn leather looking for some proof of identification. But when she found herself digging out the battered Texas driver's license and staring down at the name Mumbo Kyle Jumbo, at least it was enough of a wake-up call to make her take a step back and consider that she might finally be losing her mind.

👽 👽 👽

"Shit. I thought you'd just do your usual bullshit and sleep with him," Gem said, finishing the beer she had been nursing during Pearl's rambling backstory as to how she had talked herself into believing that there was no logical explanation for all of Mumbo's Mumbo-ness other than him being an honest-to-god alien.

"Is that my usual?" Pearl asked once she coughed up the beer she inhaled in surprise at Gem's flippant response. She watched as Gem shrugged, rising from her camping chair to grab another beer from inside the shimmering chrome Airstream behind them.

"You always go a little crazy from stress right before any of your big exhibitions, so when you said you were staying with some hot British guy I figured at least we'd know who you'd go for," Gem called out over a clatter inside the camper that sounded like far too much noise than was required to retrieve another drink.

"I never said he was hot!"

Gem's face emerged from the propped open door to stare at Pearl with a single arched eyebrow.

"You tracked down his Instagram, found the one actual photo of him on it, and then sent it to me going 'Guess who I'm going to be staying with for the festival'. I think there were winky faces. Or maybe drooling emojis. You definitely sent me something ridiculous like that. The 'he's hot' context was implied in every single choice you made there," Gem said, disappearing back into the camper before Pearl could correct her.

The rough mix of orange dirt and gravel crunched under Gem's combat boots as she stepped out of the camper carrying 2 fresh cold bottles of Shiner. She circled back towards the makeshift seating area tucked into the rare sliver of shade cast by the Airstream trailer. The camper doubled as the Gem and the Scotts tour bus, which had finally rolled into town now that the Marfa Lights Festival that they were performing at was only a few days away. In a landscape as flat as the west Texas desert, the camper was the tallest thing in sight aside from the wind beaten telephone poles along the lone highway into town and the stucco houses in the distance that made up the small town of Marfa, Texas. People keep telling Pearl that there were mountains in the distance, but Pearl wasn't totally convinced they weren't just a mirage. Another visual anomaly caused by the incessant heat and sun rays beating down on the flat, endless desert all around them.

The locals all coyly admitted that the infamous Marfa lights weren't really aliens, just a trick of the light and heat out in the high altitude desert. But they believed in them enough to throw an arts festival each year in their honor. So Pearl could choose to believe that this flat landscape actually did go on forever and the so called mountains always just out of reach were just as real as the UFOs and lights.

"So you can see why I thought your normal pre-show fever would lead you into his bed, not thinking he was an alien," Gem continued, settling back into the rough plastic fabric of the camping chair and distracting Pearl from where she was trying once again to figure out if there really were mountains out there along the horizon.

"But I guess there's a first time for everything," Gem shrugged, popping the metal caps from the beers before handing one off to Pearl, the glass bottle already slick with condensation in the unforgiving Texas heat.

👽 👽 👽

The whole thing started reasonably enough nearly 6 months ago when Pearl heard that her proposal for a large installation of iridescent metal sculptures of alien-inspired plants and animals scattered across the desert landscape was accepted into the Marfa Light Festival. It was even more exciting when the organizers told her exactly how much space she had to work with, which meant she could bring dozens of her sculpture ideas to life if she could just get them out there to the small desert town hundreds miles from the closest...anything.

"Depending on the size, you could also fabricate them here," the festival organizer Mr. Good, who insisted that Pearl call him Scar, had suggested to her on the phone.

"We have a some local artists who could help. Mumbo could probably help," he'd muttered more to himself than Pearl, which is how she ended up with the phone number of a man Scar referred to only as Mumbo. At the time, she assumed it had to be a nickname. Scar seemed like the kind of person to give people nicknames like Mumbo.

Mumbo was a local metal artist and sculptor in the small artist town who could not only give Pearl the studio space and tools she needed to make the sculptures, but could offer her a guest room in his house for as long as she needed to get everything ready. In a town whose second most popular hotel was an RV park, it was a great opportunity. Plus fabricating the pieces herself on site could let her make last minute changes as needed.

Which were the logical reasons to come into town a month before the festival and stay with Mumbo.

The less logical reasons involved finding out Mumbo was a tall, hot, British artist with all the muscles and stature she expected from someone who spent his days fabricating large artworks out of metal and stone under the hot Texas sun.

So she exchanged enough texts with Mumbo to ensure he wasn't a serial killer, placed an order for her iridescent metal sheets to be delivered to an address so far outside the manufacturers shipping routes they confirmed it 5 separate times over the phone, and packed up her ancient Honda Civic for the long drive out to Marfa.

👽 👽 👽

Things only started to get strange once Pearl arrived.

First, Mumbo moved more awkwardly than anyone she had seen in a long time. If he had been a lanky 15 year old still adjusting to a growth spurt, the flailing gangliness of his limbs would have made sense. But at nearly 30 and with enough bulk on him that he could help unload all the metal Pearl would be using from the supplier's truck without breaking a sweat, the way his body moved makes no sense. She had expected to be staring at Mumbo because he was attractive, not because she was trying to understand the physics of how a human could move like that.

Then came the weirdness regarding all the details of his life that he shared. The timelines didn’t make sense, the details were often contradictory, and half of it didn’t even seem feasible for someone who had apparently already lived in this small town for enough time to be considered a local. He had a PhD in engineering but was already retired. He could weld and operate heavy machinery but also claimed to have worked with highly technical nuclear power plants. He said he was British, but Pearl had done an artist-in-residency in the UK for 8 months and his accent didn’t quite sound like anyone she had ever met. Never mind that his slang just didn't sound quite right. The most unnerving part was that Pearl never doubted him as he said these things though. They would end up talking for so long as they worked side by side in his metal workshop that she wouldn't even notice the sun slipping behind the horizon and he would tell stories that had her laughing so hard her morning coffee sloshed onto the stained faded linoleum tile of his kitchen floor. It was only at night when she lay alone in his guest bedroom thinking about their conversations that she would finally recognize the oddities in what he had said. 

Maybe she would have just written him off as an oddball who had a tendency to lie about his past if those had been the only strange thing about Mumbo.

But then she was looking for oddities, and she couldn't shake the feeling that for someone so brilliant, he sure seemed to have a strange collection of information in his head. It started as a half formed joke she was going to message to Gem about how he talked like someone who had studied humans but failed to understand what was important or not before starting his life here on earth. But then Pearl couldn't shake the way that joke sounded just a little too accurate. Like how he apparently knew enough about explosives to regularly disappeared for hours on end to help the county with their controlled dynamite blasting for a new road up the mountains ("mountains") and had enough knowledge of chemistry to advise Pearl on the different benefits of chemical vs. physical sunscreens after she got badly sunburned walking around town. But then he accidentally created chlorine gas when he tried to help clean her bathroom with bleach and vinegar. He had a detailed knowledge of every metal imaginable and helped her perfect the welding technique on her sculptured to ensure a consistent shimmering finish on her sculptures. But he didn't know how to keep his charcoal grill hot enough to cook hot dogs on. He asked thoughtful, detailed questions about the plants and animals that Pearl was basing her sculptures on, but didn’t realize the snakes that he sometimes saw under his front porch were extremely deadly.

But the strangest thing by far was the welding incidents. Pearl caught him more than once about to weld without a face shield, and he thanked her profusely each time because he "always was forgetting stuff like that". But it was just a little too dangerous and odd of a slip up for Pearl to forget. It made her just a little bit more conscious of him, and the next time she saw him welding in his workshop at night, she swore she saw his eyes glow red behind the welding hood before he lifted it up to smile at her, beckon her inside, and ask if she wanted to see what he was working on.

By the time Gem rolled into town with the rest of Gem and the Scotts, Pearl had fully convinced herself that Mumbo was an alien.

👽 👽 👽

"So Gem tells me you're living with an actual extraterrestrial. Want to tell me all about his little green man?" Scott Major said, dropping down to sit along the edge of the stage being constructed in the middle of main street for the festival that weekend.

Pearl just let out a long whine, slumping forward and dropping her heard against the stage to avoid Scott's gleefully mischievous smile.

"It was stupid. I was being stupid. Gem promised she wouldn’t say anything," she said, more to the battered stage floor than to Scott.

"It's a festival about strange lights and UFOs in the middle of the desert, I think having an alien sighting is what most people hope for when they come out here. You just got as early access pass. Hopefully an all access pass if he looks like what Gem showed us."

"Nothing happened. He helped me put together my work and he's just a little...unique. It's a tiny town. Everyone here is a little unique. I'm sure they are. Mumbo is fine. I just got a little too carried away because I'm stressed about my exhibit."

"You're stressed about your art so you think you're living with an martian. Flawless logic. I'm with you a hundred percent," Scott offered, dry sarcasm painfully obvious even through the Scottish accent. 

Pearl turned her head just enough to glare at him with one eye.

The part of her that was still convinced Mumbo wasn't fully human couldn’t help but notice how different Scott and Mumbo's accents were, even if the much larger reasonable part of her brain knew that an island like the UK could and did have many different regional accents.

She tucked her head back into her arms and kept talking into the steady boards of the concert stage. 

"There's just a lot going on with the exhibit. The soil is drier and rockier than I thought plus the wind can get pretty bad out here so I had to change all the support structures last minute, plus I'm worried about the iridescent coating holding up in this environment. Never mind that this is more sculptures and more space than I've ever had to manage before. It's a lot to think about and I'm just worried about all of that and a million other things I'm sure can also go wrong that I don’t even know about and that all just made me a little crazy."

"I don't think you have anything to worry about," an extremely familiar voice said from behind Pearl and she wondered if the blistering sun could just melt her right here and now so she could sinks into the cracks of the ancient asphalt before she had to turn around and face Mumbo.

"Are you also part of the festival?" Scott asked, ever the friendly, outgoing rockstar counterpart to Pearl's eccentric, artist persona.

She couldn’t stop herself from smiling to herself when she heard Mumbo laugh in response.

"Not officially. Not this year. I'm local and I've been helping Pearl make all her sculptures. And as a local who has seen too many art pieces from outsiders lose the fight to the elements here in the Chihuahuan desert, I know Pearl's are going to be fine."

"See, no reason to be stressed," Scott nudged her, so Pearl finally straightened up and turned around to face an unfairly attractive Mumbo. When he was standing still she could almost forget all her stupid suspicions, because in scuffed up cowboy boots, faded jeans, and a button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up just enough to hint at the oppressive heat, he looked so at home in the Texas desert that she couldn’t imagine him anywhere else. Add a cowboy hat and a badge to that mustache and he'd look more like a sheriff in a western than an alien in a sci-fi movie.

"I certainly wouldn’t mind some close encounters with him," Scott murmured, leaning in close enough so Mumbo couldn’t hear.

Then again if Mumbo had heard their previous conversation about her thinking he was an alien, Scott's teasing jib wasn't the worst thing Mumbo could have heard.

"Anything I can help with for the opening tomorrow? We can head out to the exhibit this afternoon in the truck if you want. Check over everything again," Mumbo offered with enough genuine concern that even if he heard their previous conversation, he was being polite enough not to mention it.

"No, I mean yes I want to do that but I know we don’t need to. Everything is as ready as it can be. I'm just worried because of course I am."

Mumbo shifted, eyes so dark that they were nearly black fixated on her as he was clearly considering something.

"We could do something different tonight, not festival stuff if you want a distraction. If that would help," he said, boot scuffing against the ground in a nervous tick that broke the picturesque rough and tumble western look enough to snap Mumbo back into being the funny, awkward, puzzling, mystery man-alien-whatever that Pearl had been fascinated by since she drove in on the long stretch of highway 67.

"Uh, sure," Pearl fumbled out, her mind coming up surprisingly blank on what that might mean. 

"Okay. Yeah. We can do that. I was just in town to grab some liquor and groceries before the festival goers sell us out for the rest of the month. You need a ride back home or…"

"I'll help them finish up here, I'll walk back in a bit."

"Great, well then see you at home," Mumbo nodded, turning back towards the handful of trucks parked along the quiet street already gearing up for the crowds of the festival.

"Do you think he'll abduct you and bring you to his space ship?" Scott said, clearly delighted to pounce on the obvious opener. The way he waggled his eyebrows at Pearl gave her all the hint she needed that he might literally never stop teasing her about this.

"Maybe he'll examine and probe you until-"

Pearl shoved him so hard he stumbled off the front of the stage, laughing as he staggered forward through the shifting sliver of shade cast by the newly erected "Marfa Light Festival" banner hanging above them.

👽 👽 👽

"I realized after I said it today, that I actually couldn’t have picked a more festival related thing to do in town," Mumbo laughed as his pick-up truck bounced along the dirt road. Though road was rather generous when the only real difference between a dirt road and the flat, rocky ground was if someone in city hall had drawn a line on a map. Pearl was pretty certain when Mumbo had pulled off the highway miles from town, that there was definitely no lines on a map in city hall designating this as a road.

In any rational circumstances, Pearl should have been worried Mumbo was about to drive her out into the desert and murder her. Marfa was barely a speck of civilization among the vast wilderness, so by driving just 10 minutes out of town it was already so dark that the headlights of the truck were the only source of light Pearl could see anywhere around them. But the idea of Mumbo's headlights landing on a UFO and him literally taking her to another planet felt more plausible than the man sitting next to her in the truck cab causing her any harm, so she just kept looking out the windows trying to see if she was supposed to be noticing anything.

"But I know, since we have literally been staying in the same house, that you haven’t been out to see the lights since you came to town. And with all the festival folks coming into town tomorrow, it will be crowded and there will be a bunch of car lights and stuff so, tonight was your last chance to really see them," Mumbo continued, finally slowing the car to a stop seemingly in the middle of nowhere.

"Isn't there a viewing area for this reason, with a parking lot and everything so we aren’t driving over the poor sagebrush and cactus," Pearl laughed, knowing full well Mumbo's willingness to drive straight into the desert after she took full advantage of that to get her sculptures set up in the middle of acres of arid nothingness.

"That's for the tourists!" Mumbo said, looking so offended as he hopped out of the truck, but not before grabbing the two thermoses she had noticed earlier for the cup holder.

Pearl opened the passenger door and heard Mumbo drop open the bed of the truck just before the darkness was suddenly cut by the bright light from the LEDs of one of the many camping lanterns that were littered around Mumbo's house and garage. The light bounched as he tossed I back into the bed of the truck, and Pearl rounded the corner of the truck just in time to see him grab 2 blankets. 

"This is a better spot. Much better. Superior in every way to that ridiculous pull off from the highway," he kept muttering and Pearl couldn’t help but smile.

Even if he was an alien, he clearly loved this town and the life he had in it.

Maybe he really had seen all of the world had to offer as some brilliant British engineer and chosen Marfa as his home. Maybe he had seen the whole cosmos as an alien darting between planets and galaxies for a million human lifetimes and still chosen this little town out of all the places in the universe as the best place to set up a life.

He tossed Pearl a blanket, and after wrapping one around himself and hopping up into the bed of his pick-up truck, he motioned her to join him.

She curled the blanket around her shoulders, hoisting herself up to sit next to him before curling the blanket around her bare legs.

She kept forgetting that it got cold at night here in the desert, and before she could shiver against the chilly night air, Mumbo's hand emerged from his blanket offering her a thermos.

"I know you prefer coffee but at this hour you'll have to indulge me by at least trying the tea."

Pearl smiled as she grabbed the thermos, thinking of the aghast look Mumbo had sent her when she had asked where he kept his coffee the first morning she stayed with him. That was the first time she had jokingly thought he was an alien for only keeping tea in the house. But that afternoon he had disappeared into town on an errand and the next morning a coffemaker and giant tub of Folders was sitting on the counter for her.

The warm humid air wafting up from her thermos smelled exactly like the tea she had come to associate with him in the evenings, distinct from the morning cups filled with caffeine that he drank blistering hot and the afternoon brews that he always ended up drinking long after they had gone lukewarm from sitting on his workbench.

"Chamomile is meant to be relaxing, so if you were stressed I thought it might help," Mumbo clarified, voice cutting through the silent desert night.

"Thank you," was all she could think to offer as she wrapped her hands around the warm metal.

"You know the lights are just caused by the change in temperatures. The heat of the day and the cold at night. Or cars. It's not aliens," Pearl said into the chilly night air, maybe to reassure herself as she followed Mumbo's gaze out into the darkness over the mountains she still wasn't sure she believed in and under the stars she still wasn't convinced Mumbo didn't come from.

"Maybe. It would be cool if it were aliens though, don’t you think?" he said.

He shifted next to her, his shoulder brushing against her as he turned. She followed him once again, turning towards Mumbo just in time for the light to catch the condensation of his breath in the cold night air. They were close enough for her to smell the tea on his breath.

"But for me, I don't really care if it’s some fluke of the weather, or man-made actions or aliens," he continued.

"I just really hope you get to see them before you go, because the lights are beautiful either way."

Maybe Mumbo was an alien. Maybe he wasn't.

Maybe it didn't matter what she believed because he was someone who made her smile and called her artwork spectacular and who brought her all the way out here with warm tea and a warmer blanket to share something he loved just because he wanted her to be a little less stressed about something he knew she cared a lot about.

And in that moment, as she saw his eyes dart down to her lips, all she really wanted to believe was that he was about to kiss her. 

[patchdotexe]

doip. / 10.4.24: i was paying attention, i swear

von is here! hi von. what's your social security number

(nyx's fiance Von is now spectating! welcome to the Skeleton Crew, we're all insane. also i was running late because i had to see if vikingpilot was wearing the cat ears skin i made)

LAST TIME, ON STORM LORD'S WRATH!: i got distracted trying to stop pepper from eating cables. uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

im being so good at staying on task. recording means that im being held accountable. i will be strong i did however have to go chase pepper out of my room. tragic

oh no nyx what did you do. everyone is freaking out about something in the stables and nyx mentioned there's a surprise at the bottom of the stairs. oh noooooo hey dauble. dauble did you resurrect some horses. "horses" last night the horses were dead. this morning the horses are now. "alive". dauble is not elaborating. alidaar would really like dauble to elaborate. dauble casted animate dead! which is not a normal druid thing because im pretty sure dauble isn't circle of spores. im pretty sure dauble took a level in cleric at some point with their costume change but

alidaar is finally starting to twig that something is Up with dauble. took him long enough. arepo has nudged alidaar to go get silla whle he and dauble deal with the zorses! dauble is not explaining anything.

i love silla. bottom text.

the fun part abt being the recorded pov is that things like me googling "minecraft zombie horse" is on tape

"alidaar goes 'peem poom'."

(alidaar did Facial Expressions about the situation and i was struggling to find a corresponding emoji.)

im diagnosing dauble with problems. the bpd animal is activated (silla is riding with alidaar) HOW HAS IT ONLY BEEN LIKE LESS THAN A MONTH IN-UNIVERSE. WHAT THE HELL silla is hitting on alidaar a bit but alidaar has no fucking idea. dauble is rolling in their grave

uh oh. there appears to be a Situation on the road. apparently a town evacuated and the townspeople are having a scuffle about it. something happened with the fishermen? stuff's wack with water. --oh, shit, there's kids missing. none of em are able to head back for the kids. GOOD NEWS, ADVENTURERS ARE HERE

alidaar has put sacks on the zorses. we're normal. dont think abt how our horses are green, please

arepo is stuck in his mind palace. alidaar is dissociating. Dauble Is Driving The Bus

(GOD I DONT REMEMBER WHAT THIS MEANS. ITS BEEN A MONTH. alidaar was Attempting To Cope with the dauble situation, and i think arepo had the realization that "oh, no, dauble isnt normally like this. this was a recent change. Uh Oh" because he joined after dauble's magical girl transformation)

HERE COMES THE. WATER?? WAGON?????? okay . we are here to kill the water wagon. got it boss

Silla Has Despawned. goodbye silla. dauble is finally happy

(alidaar got silla to take the zorses and run for safety)

im very bad at theater of the mind when it comes to The Cone (my breath weapons) so we are battling on the overworld hex map. this is fine

I HAVE FINALLY USED MY CLOUD RUNE. I DID IT MOM

arepo's words of inspiration to alidaar: "You are being so normal about all this." wh. why does dauble have higher ac than alidaar. what happened WHY CAN DAUBLE CAST INFLICT WOUNDS? actually i think dauble has done that before. perfectly normal druid

i keep peeking at the sbk discord and everything keeps devolving further into chaos.

(skyblock kingdoms was having an event. the event was "rebuilding parkour civilization in skyblock". at one point everyone ended up in cat maid skins. i was trying very hard to not look at the discord but there were SO MANY MESSAGES)

we have remembered that we are able to incapacitate people. fuck your monologue you're getting tied up

silla: oh no, you're hurt! ;o; alidaar: eh, ive had worse :,D dauble: I Am Literally Dying

arepo writes down "find therapist" in his notes. i dont think any amount of therapy can fix dauble

oh yeah we finally got the title drop! [alidaar voice] what the fuck's a storm lord ..OH. OH THE STORM LORD IS TALOS. OH! LIKE THE GUYS THAT KIDNAPPED AREPO! OHHHHHH

im spacing out HARD. apologies for the state of these notes. zzz

(again. skyblock kingdoms parkour civilization. and also generally being out of it. i COULD rewatch the recording to get a better concept of what happened but i dont feel like listening to myself talk for 2 hours rn)

[alidaar voice] WOAH, ITS ISOMETRIC!

(we reached Leilon! the map is isometric.)

OH . DAUBLE IS NEUTRAL EVIL NOW. SWAG.

[ioannemos]

so. YESTERDAY.

1. woke up in time to shower before walking to church

2. here's the thing. the church i've been going to? next town over. even i cannot walk that far. so i decided to check out one of the churches in town

3. there are... several. i honestly did not expect that many

4. what the heck, i've never been to a nazarene church before, let's see what they've got going on, it's one service

5. start walking, get distracted by a sign for an art fair. the temptation is real. maybe after church i'll go check it out. i can fit in something fun before grocery shopping and picking up my medication

6. it's a thirty minute walk. i'm not even halfway there and have to turn on my data to look at the map. getting hot. this sucks

7. look up. i'm right next to a different church. according to google, this one has a female pastor. i rejected this one earlier for that reason. the 'can women be pastors' thing is not something i've really researched for myself but i have read the verses and idk, seemed pretty clear cut that the answer is no. on the other hand, i'm right on time for the service, and do i want to do this right now?

8. fk it. i'll miss more than half the service at the other church by the time i get there. if it sucks i'll hit the bricks

9. two old people are thrilled to see me. i am gifted a bulletin and a nametag

10. the sanctuary is more than half empty, most heads that are present are grey, and there is no sign of technology except for the dude up front wearing a mic. there is no apparatus for streaming online, no tvs to display lyrics, no soundbooth or even the person in charge of making the mic work. i have absolutely nothing against those things, but it's kinda nice tbh

11. the pastor is def a guy and they just moved their service from 10:45 to 10:30, so i've missed a lot of this service too. but i didn't miss the sermon, so whatever, fine, this is just my life today i guess

12. HYMNS. they do HYMNS here. i am instantly pacified that they didn't update their sign outside with the new time

13. don't get me wrong i LOVE contemporary Christian music okay, i have a playlist that's stupid long, great stuff, makes me think, makes me cry, all that

14. but HYMNS!!!!! from a HYMNAL!!!!! how i've missed them. i can hear some people harmonizing. this is the Good Shit

15. the bulletin says that after the service they're having a baptism and picnic at the lake. i'm trying to be more... social *gagging noise* so... maybe... i'll go... but only if someone invites me

16. service is over. hey who's that. i recognize her face. shit. what's her name and where the hell have i seen her

17. fk it. approach. "hey! i recognize your face but can't for the life of me remember your name or where we met 😅"

18. her name is vicki and i met her at my previous job *more gagging noises* but she only worked there once in a while. thus i don't have to feel guilty at not knowing her immediately. phew

19. she has a baby! her baby is cute, of course. coo over baby appropriately

20. while cooing over baby, someone else approaches. her name is marnie. i barely play sdv but it's enough that i don't think i'll forget her name very soon

21. marnie: are you going to the baptism?

me: i don't have a car

her: oh, i can drive you there and back if you want

guess i'm going!

22. her: do you want to stop by your house and get some shorts?

me: i don't own any shorts

her: ... your swimsuit?

me: i don't have one of those either

her: ...okay

23. she has to pick up something at her house first. she offers to lend me something lighter than jeans 🥺 i turn her down, bc i'm just. used to wearing jeans everywhere, but i appreciate the offer

24. the beach we go to is lovely. it's part of a camp that a bunch of churches in the area use. the water itself is probably freezing (the lake doesn't really warm up, a familiar refrain to someone who grew up right next to lake michigan lol) but the area is nicely shaded (it is hot in the sun)

25. the picnic food is good. i talk a little with the people at the table i sit at. it's... fine. there are a few conversations going at once, which i find distracting and unpleasant (my brain struggles with what i'm supposed to be paying attention to)

26. it's time for the baptism!

pastor, quietly: how do you guys do this here?

me, very amused: idk man, this is my first day attending this church

pastor: what, really?? okay, stick around after this, i wanna talk to you

me: okay

27. the guy getting baptized cries during his testimony, we pray for him, he gets dunked, we cheer and applaud, we pray for him again, he lets a few people take pictures and then cannonballs off the end of the pier into the lake to more cheers and applause

28. some people leave. the pastor's wife asks if i want to go kayaking. i think i've gone kayaking once? i say yes anyway. fk it, i'm already stepping out and i don't feel like killing anyone at this picnic or myself yet

29. obvs both the pastor and his wife are in high demand so it takes a while but eventually we start hauling out the kayaks

30. marnie, who works at the camp, is very conscientious that everyone has an emergency whistle and is wearing a life jacket that is appropriately sized. she also lends me and the pastor's wife hats. marnie is the best, i think

31. the water is crystal clear and the weather is about perfect. marnie suggests we head for a slightly shallower part of the lake, where there are lily pads

32. the youngest member of our party, a teenager, capsizes on the way. we all come together to tow her and her kayak to shore. the pastor's wife uses her emergency whistle to tie the swamped kayak to the guy towing it. i wrangle the teen's paddle and point out that the person who offered to tow the teen doesn't have anything for her to hold onto but that someone else does, and they switch accordingly. the extra water is dumped out on shore. the teen is checked on and encouraged. we all head back out onto the lake

33. the pastor talks to me for almost the entire trip. it's nice bc he tells me that if i don't want to answer any of his questions i can just tell him to back off, but honestly i like talking about myself 😅. i realize that the person his voice reminds me of is ted danson and it is made abundantly clear to me why he has a mic in the otherwise electronics-less church: his voice is fairly quiet and barely carries (which are separate things, fight me)

34. amongst other things i talk about mom. when do i not tell people about mom. i mention how the night she died i had the feeling that i wasn't going to see her again, so before the paramedics left with her i had a chance to say goodbye and give her a kiss. he describes this as the gift of... discernment, i think? anyway i want to talk this down a bit, bc when do i not talk down any gifts i might have, but the more i think about it the more instances come to mind. huh. i will need to think more on this

35. we see the lily pads and a few lily buds, hang around for a little bit just talking, and then head back. we arrive back at camp without incident, put up the kayaks, and go our separate ways

36. except marnie has a thing to do first, do i mind, no i don't, repeat about three times, lol. but i really don't mind, i have tomorrow off also to do what i need to, and the things she needs to do are a. all for the camp, which has kids who just arrived and b. the kind of tasks i find completely non-stressful, like refilling napkins and hand soap. i am introduced to her boss. we leave eventually, each with a plateful of brownies

37. we talk the whole way. i am once again asked questions about myself and i am once again more than happy to do so. i should probably shut up occasionally. 🙄🤐 she drops me off but not before asking for my number

38. i have neither done my grocery shopping nor picked up my medication. fk. guess i'm doing that tomorrow

39. go inside, take dog out back to play with her. one of the other dogs also wants to play. thankfully there are two balls, so i kinda just juggle between them. neither dog seems to mind

40. another roommate shows up with his new dog: the tiniest puppy 😭 so small! one and a half hands big! and i got to hold her 😍💞🥰 reminded me of my dog when we first got her 😭😭 i miss her... 😭😭😭

41. did my laundry. turned on my laptop and only made it through one of my yt rec'd videos before realizing i was falling asleep. reluctantly decided to do the right thing and just. go to bed

42. fell asleep almost instantly and finally slept well. so all i need to do is wake up early, eat no breakfast, walk to church, go to a new place, talk to people i don't know, go kayaking, play with two dogs, do a big load of laundry, and then i'll sleep well. glad to find out it's as simple as that 🙄

[studentlifesworld]

I like being outside.

I mean yes, it good for your mental health, get that vitamin D, smell the flowers and all that. But that's not the reason I am focusing on right now.

I like being outside to see life.

Oh, and there is so much of it. I love seeing the possibilities and the different versions of the same thing.

We all awkwardly walk fast when a car stops for us at the pedestrian crossing, we all look like little lost kids when we can't seem to figure out how to read the google maps. We all look insanely beautiful when we spot our friends in the crowd after searching for them for what seemed like forever.

I love seeing how people dress up, the high school kids, university students, working class and the senior citizens rocking the leopard printed coats .

The other day I realized how we are all similar in a lot of ways. I am in my mid twenties and I was walking around town, just exploring and I passed by a lot of older people probably in their late 60s and 70s. And it was nice to see that, even as you get older , you will still be in awe of life and want to see more of it. They might have been outside because they are board, but then again I suppose, outside is the best place to be.

I love seeing people in love, people showing affection, its always a beautiful site. And it's the same, teenagers kissing each other goodbye at the bus stop and an old couple doing the same thing on the other side of the road. Love is beautiful.

I love to see what is possible, I love to be outside of my head and see it all. I love to be reminded that people don't always pay too much attention as I think they do because sometimes we all have other things going on for us to be micro analysing someone else.

I love seeing people shop, how they order their food, how they come to a restaurant to simply have coffee and go on their merry way. I love seeing kids , I love seeing parents with their kids,its a beautiful site. And you know, is almost magical how you can spot 2 little girls, probably best friends telling each other some good news, how they giggle behind their hands and realize that the 2 old ladies you saw last week acted the same way and so did the two girls in your class. These things make me happy.

So, idk, go outside you know. Not for some grand reason, just go and see, look and experience life and you will realize that just like every stranger you spot our there, we are all just figuring it out as we go.

[im-a-king-baby]

🪷

Hi! I cannot see this emoji because apparently I need to update several of my devices but I am going to ASSUME it is a flower. <3

Your snippet is about Laura (aka the fan who drove Simon to Bjarstad at the end of a very strange day)

Laura is pretty sure she’s dreaming. The entire night has had this air of unreality and now there’s this boy sitting in her passenger seat staring out the window in a white hoodie several sizes too big.

“What was your name?” he asks.

They’ve been driving for twenty minutes. This is the first thing he’s said since he offered to have sex with her and she said, “Um, no thank you?” like the most awkward person in history.

Google maps says it’s still nearly two hours to Bjarstad. And she can’t put on music because the car only has a CD player and the only CDs she has are Simme albums and Simme is sitting in her passenger seat. “Laura. Laura Andersson.”

He nods. “Hi.”

So fucking surreal. “Hi.”

“Were you looking for me?”

“What?”

“Looking for me,” he repeats. “Like, did Twitter say where I was so you went to find me?”

For a second she’s insulted at the implication, but when she glances over he doesn’t look angry, just tired. Resigned. Like he expects her to say yes.

And she’s seen all the news footage of crowds around the Grand hotel. She was looking on Twitter after the show for other fans talking about the new song but instead it was all people asking where the crew had moved to, rumours about different hotels. “No,” she says. “I was -” she pauses, trying to plan the sentence and tripping up on several words. Funnily enough high school language classes never covered ‘adulterous asshole’. Or maybe they did, she wasn’t great at paying attention. “I don’t know how to say it in English.”

“Oh,” he sounds surprised, like he’d forgotten where he was in between playing the show and now, and switches. “Swedish is fine. Sorry.” His Swedish accent is a bit rough, just like on stage, but he speaks it easily enough. Of course he does, he grew up here.

“I know you don’t like it,” she says.

He laughs softly, at a joke he doesn’t bother to share, letting his head thud against the passenger window. “Did I say that?”

He’s still speaking Swedish, so she switches because translating everything at 3am while her ears are still ringing and she’s driving an unfamiliar route into the middle of nowhere is going to give her a headache. “You gave an interview once where you said you wish you could forget Swedish so that you could forget everything that happened in Sweden.”

“Oh.” He touches his hoodie pocket, like he needs to reassure himself that it’s still there. “I probably shouldn’t have said that.”

“Is it true?”

He glances sideways at her, possibly looking at her properly for the first time. “Sometimes,” he says. Whatever that means. “So where were you headed, before?”

“I was looking for a hostel. I was supposed to be staying with my boyfriend - I’m from Gothenburg and he’s from Stockholm but he comes over a lot for work. Then he texts me after the show started like ‘actually my wife has decided not to take the kids to her mother’s so you’ll have to get a hotel.’ And obviously I called him and he goes ‘I thought you knew I was married’ like obviously I did not. And the wife doesn’t know about me so all this time I’ve been a fucking homewrecker or something. Anyway all the hotels were booked out from the concert so I was looking for this hostel I saw online in the hope they might have a bed free and then I saw you.”

And she pulled over to check if he was alright and to ask if she could drive him somewhere - half wondering if she could maybe negotiate a room at his hotel, or at least a couch to crash on and somewhere to park overnight - and he’d climbed in and asked if she knew a town called Bjarstad.

It’s kind of on her way home, only adds an hour or so to the overall drive time. And when she’d unsubtly mentioned that she’d need to sleep at some point, he’d dropped that he owned a house there. In some middle-of-nowhere town in Sweden, a country he supposedly hasn’t been back to in nearly 3 years.

Then he’d offered her money, a photograph, and sex, in that order.

“Fuck,” Simme says, his voice is flat but she appreciates the sentiment. “Well. Sorry I fucked up the show for you as well.”

She glances sideways, but she can’t look long enough to get a good sense of his expression without taking her attention off the road. “It was fine. I mean who else can say they got to hear a Simme original song, live.” God, that makes it sound like she hated it. “I mean I loved the song, the song was great.” Or maybe that’s too much enthusiasm for a song he sang like his heart was fucking breaking. “I mean, it was sad. But really pretty.”

She takes her eyes off the road again, to see his mouth quirk into a tiny half smile. “You should send that to my PR team,” he says. “Sad But Pretty. There’s an album title right there.”

[caminotravels]

August 31- 26klm

Rabanal del Camino - Molinaseca

Well, our intentions today was to start off super early because it’s a long day and we have to go over a mountain and a long very long down. We left the hotel at 6 AM but once we got out, I realize that my headlamp battery was dead. So we just went back inside and waited for 40 minutes because it was just too dark to walk without light. At about 640 we decided to risk it and I use my iPhone light to light the way . We did this for sometime ,until daylight was almost upon us and I could see without using the iPhone.

The first part of the walk was quite nice, it was cool, which was perfect because it was all uphill.

We ended up walking 12 km because there was nothing open at all for our first coffee. We’re getting quite desperate at this time. Finally, we came to a little town way up high called Acebo. It was a lovely little village. On the Journey up, there was a school of Italians children , well more like teenagers. They were traveling with the priest . One of the kids had a guitar and he would play and they would sing while they walked. So we had a little concert on the way. It was lovely as we were high in the clouds and it just looked amazing.

Now this is where the great day ended. From here the walk was all downhill, and it was not just walking down mountain, it was all sharp broken slate like rocks. This went on for the whole day, 15 klm of it. You had to watch every step so you would not fall. It was a painful walk this afternoon . We managed to stay at a lovely village called Acebo. Here we had some lunch, and they told us that the way down was really bad, and it was 8klm to the end. So sad to hear that. Well we had no choice, this was the way to Molinaseca , so downwards we went . What a painful walk it was , my toes from them hitting the front of my shoes were getting so sore . Then my knee started to hurt , don’t get me started on my back pain . Plus , could it get any worse , yes it could , we were attacked by flies . Hundred of flies , flying around your face the whole time . Boy , we just wanted to arrive and shower . Today was quite a day .

We finally made it down , and google mapped the hotel . Shower was all we wanted , and of course some wine to fill the pain .

If I suggest anything to anybody about to take this walk . Miss this day . 😩

Well , I know tomorrow I will have forgotten all about what happened today. It will be a distance memory.

So right now , wine is calling .

[shuxiii]

Everyday pt.4

Hanni Pham x reader pt1, pt2, pt3, pt4, pt5, pt6, pt7, pt8, pt9, pt10, pt11, pt12, pt13

a/n I know some idols have no siblings but pretend they have in this one because I am lazy, still all credits to ''every day'' by David Levithan meow

Day 5999

My mind is thoroughly wrung out, but I can tell Haruto Watanabe has gotten a good night’s sleep.

Haruto is a good guy. Everything in his room is in order. Even though it’s only Saturday morning, he’s already done his homework for the weekend. He’s set his alarm for eight o’clock, not wanting the day to go to waste. He was probably in bed by ten.

I go on his computer and check my email, making sure to write myself some notes about the last few days, so I can remember them. Then I log in to Minji’s email and find out there’s a party tonight at Huh Yunjin’s house. Yunjin’s address is only a Google search away. When I map out the distance between Haruto’s house and Yunjin’s, I find it’s only a ninety-minute drive.

It looks like Haruto might be going to a party tonight.

First, I must convince his parents.

His mother interrupts me when I’m back on my own email, rereading what I wrote about the day with Hanni. I very quickly shut the window, and oblige when she tells me that today is not a computer day, and that I am to come down for breakfast.

I very quickly discover that Haruto’s parents are a very nice couple who make it very clear that their niceness shouldn’t be challenged or pressed.

“Can I borrow the car?” I ask. “The school musical is tonight, and I would like to go see it.”

“Have you done your homework?”

I nod.

“Your chores?”

“I will.”

“And you’ll be back by midnight?”

I nod. I decide not to mention to them that if I’m not back by midnight, I’ll be ripped from my current body. I don’t think they’d find that reassuring.

It’s clear to me that they won’t need the car tonight. They are the type of parents who don’t believe in having a social life. They have television instead.

I spend most of the day doing chores. After I’m done with them and have had a family dinner, I’m good to go.

The party’s supposed to start at seven, so I know I have to wait until nine to show up, so there will be enough people there to hide my presence. If I get there and it ends up being open to only a dozen kids, I’ll have to turn back around. But that doesn’t strike me as Minji’s kind of party.

Haruto’s kind of party, I’m guessing, involves board games and Dr Pepper. As I drive back to Hanni’s town, I access some of his memories. I am a firm believer that every person, young or old, has at least one good story to tell. Haruto’s, however, is pretty hard to find. The only tremor of emotion I can find in his life is when he was nine and his dog April died. Ever since then, nothing seems to have disturbed him too much. Most of his memories involve homework. He has friends, but they don’t do very much outside of school. When Little League was over, he gave up sports. He has never, from what I can tell, sipped anything stronger than a beer, and even that was during a Father’s Day barbecue, at his uncle’s prodding.

Normally, I would take these as parameters. Normally, I would stay within Haruto’s safe zone.

But not today. Not with a chance of seeing Hanni again.

I remember yesterday, and how the trail that got me through the darkness seemed to be attached in some way to her. It’s as if when you love someone, they become your reason. And maybe I’ve gotten it backward, maybe it’s just because I need a reason that I find myself falling in love with her. But I don’t think that’s it. I think I would have continued along, oblivious, if I hadn’t happened to meet her.

Now I’m letting my life hijack these other lives for a day. I am not staying within their parameters. Even if that’s dangerous.

I’m at Huh Yunjin’s house by eight, but Minji’s car is nowhere in sight. In fact, there aren’t that many cars out in front. So I wait and watch. After a while, people start arriving. Even though I’ve just spent a day and a half at their school, I don’t recognize any of them. They were all peripheral.

Finally, just after nine-thirty, Minji’s car pulls up. Hanni is with her, as I’d hoped she’d be. As they head in, she walks a little bit in front, with her a little behind. I get out of my car and follow them inside.

I’m worried there will be someone at the door, but the party’s already spiraled into its own form of chaos. The early guests are well past the point of drunkenness, and everyone else is quickly catching up. I know I look out of place—Haruto’s wardrobe is more suited to a debate tournament than a Saturday night house party. But nobody really cares; they’re too caught up in each other or themselves to notice a random geek in their midst.

The lights are dim, the music is loud, and Hanni is hard to find. But just the fact that I am in the same place as her has me nervously exhilarated.

Minji is in the kitchen, talking with some guys. She looks at ease, in her element. She finishes one beer and immediately goes for another.

I push past her, push through the living room and find myself in the den. The instant I step in the room, I know she’s here. Even though the music’s blaring from a laptop connected to some speakers, she’s over by the CD collection, thumbing through cases. Two girls are talking nearby, and I have a sense that at one point she was a part of their conversation, then decided to drop out.

I walk over and see that one of the CDs she’s looking at has a song we listened to on our car ride.

“I really like them,” I say, gesturing to the CD. “Do you?”

She startles, as if this is a quiet room and I am a sudden noise. I notice you, I want to say. Even when no one else does, I do. I will.

“Yeah,” she says. “I like them, too.”

I start to sing the song, the one from the car. Then I say, “I like that one in particular.”

“Do I know you?” she asks.

“I’m Haruto,” I say, which isn’t a no or a yes.

“I’m Hanni,” she says.

“That’s a beautiful name.”

“Thanks. I used to hate it, but I don’t so much anymore.”

“Why?”

“It’s just a pain to spell.” She looks at me closely. “Do you go to Octavian?”

“No. I’m just here for the weekend. Visiting my cousin.”

“Who’s your cousin?”

“Yunjin.”

This is a dangerous lie, since I have no idea which of the person is Yunjin, and I have no way of accessing the information.

“Oh, that explains it.”

She is starting to drift away from me, just as I imagine she drifted away from the girls talking next to us.

“I hate my cousin,” I say.

This gets her attention.

“I hate the way she treats girls. I hate the way she thinks she can buy all her friends by throwing parties like this. I hate the way that she only talks to you when she needs something. I hate the way she doesn’t seem capable of love.”

I realize I’m now talking about Minji, not Yunjin.

“Then why are you here?” Hanni asks.

“Because I want to see it fall apart. Because when this party gets busted—and if it stays this loud, it will get busted—I want to be a witness. From a safe distance away, of course.”

“And you’re saying she’s incapable of loving Kazuha? They’ve been going out for over a year.”

With a silent apology to Kazuha and Yunjin, I say, “That doesn’t mean anything, does it? I mean, being with someone for over a year can mean that you love them… but it can also mean you’re trapped.”

At first, I think I’ve gone too far. I can feel Hanni taking in my words, but I don’t know what she’s doing with them. The sound of words as they’re said is always different from the sound they make when they’re heard because the speaker hears some of the sounds from the inside.

Finally, she says, “Speaking from experience?”

It’s laughable to think that Haruto—who, from what I can tell, hasn’t gone on a date since eighth grade—would be speaking from experience. But she doesn’t know him, which means I can be more like me. Not that I’m speaking from experience, either. Just the experience of observing.

“There are many things that can keep you in a relationship,” I say. “Fear of being alone. Fear of disrupting the arrangement of your life. A decision to settle for something that’s okay, because you don’t know if you can get any better. Or maybe there’s the irrational belief that it will get better, even if you know he won’t change.”

“He’?”

“Yeah.”

“I see.”

At first I don’t understand what she sees—clearly, I was talking about her. Then I get where the pronoun has led her.

“That cool?” I ask, figuring it will make Haruto even less threatening if he’s gay.

“Completely.”

“How about you?” I ask. “Seeing anyone?”

“Yeah,” she says. Then, deadpan, “For over a year.”

“And why are you still together? Fear of being alone? A decision to settle? An irrational belief that he’ll change?”

“Yes. Yes. And yes.”

“So…”

“But he can also be incredibly sweet. And I know that, deep down, I mean the world to him.”

“Deep down? That sounds like settling to me. You shouldn’t have to venture deep down in order to get to love.”

“Let’s switch the topic, okay? This isn’t a good party topic. I liked it more when you were singing to me.”

I’m about to make reference to another song we heard on our car ride—hoping that maybe it’ll bring her back in some way—when Minji’s voice comes from over my shoulder, asking, “So who’s this?” If she was relaxed when I saw her in the kitchen, now she’s annoyed.

“Don’t worry, Minji,” Hanni says. “He’s gay.”

“Yeah, I can tell from the way he’s dressed. What are you doing here?”

“Haruto, this is Minji, my girlfriend. Minji, this is Haruto.”

I say hi. She doesn’t respond.

“You seen Kazuha?” she asks Hanni. “Yunjin’s looking for her. I think they’re at it again.”

“Maybe she went to the basement.”

“Nah. They’re dancing in the basement.”

Hanni likes this news, I can tell.

“Want to go down there and dance?” she asks Minji.

“Hell no! I didn’t come here to dance. I came here to drink.”

“Charming,” Hanni says, more (I think) for my benefit than her. “Do you mind if I go dance with Haruto?”

“You sure he’s gay?”

“I’ll sing you show tunes if you want me to prove it,” I volunteer.

Minji slaps me on the back. “No, bro, don’t do that, okay? Go dance.”

So that’s how it comes to pass that Hanni is leading me to Huh Yunjin’s basement. As we hit the stairs, we can feel the bass under our feet. It’s a different soundtrack here—a tide of pulse and beat. Only a few red lights are on, so all we can see are the outlines of bodies as they meld together.

“Hey, Yunjin!” Hanni calls out. “I like your cousin!”

A girl who must be Yunjin looks at her and nods. Whether she can’t hear what she’s said or whether she’s trashed, I can’t tell.

“Have you seen Kazuha?” she yells.

“No!” Hanni yells back.

Then we’re in with the dancers. The sad truth is that I have about as much experience on a dance floor as Haruto does. I try to lose myself in the music, but that doesn’t work. Instead, I need to lose myself in Hanni. I have to give myself over entirely to her—I must be her shadow, her complement, the other half of this conversation of bodies. As she moves, I move with her. I touch her back, her waist. She comes in closer.

By losing myself to her, I gain her. The conversation is working. We have found our rhythm and we are riding it. I find myself singing along, singing to her, and she loves it. She transforms once again into someone carefree, and I transform into someone whose only care is her.

“You’re not bad!” she shouts over the music.

“You’re amazing!” I shout back.

I know that Minji is not coming down here. She is safe with Huh Yunjin’s gay cousin, and I am safe knowing that nobody else will interfere with this moment. The songs collide into one long song—as if one singer is taking over when the previous one stops, all of them taking turns to give us this. The sound waves push us into each other, wrap around us like colors. We are paying attention to each other and we are paying attention to the enormity. The room has no ceiling; the room has no walls. There is only the open field of our excitement, and we run across it in small movements, sometimes without our feet leaving the ground. We go for what feels like hours and also feels like no time at all. We go until the music stops, until someone turns on the lights and says the party is ending, that the neighbors have complained and the police are probably coming.

Hanni looks as disappointed as I feel.

“I have to find Minji,” she says. “Are you going to be okay?”

No, I want to tell her. I won’t be okay until you can come with me to wherever it is that I’m going next.

I ask her for her email address, and when she raises an eyebrow, I tell her again not to worry, that I’m still gay.

“That’s too bad,” she says. I want her to say more, but then she’s giving me her email address, and in response I’m giving her a fake email address that I’ll have to set up as soon as I get home.

People are starting to run from the house. Sirens can be heard in the distance, probably waking up as many people as the party has. Hanni leaves me to find Minji, promising me that she’ll be the one to drive. I don’t see them as I run to my car. I know it’s late, but I don’t know how late it is until I turn on the car and look at the clock.

11:15.

There’s no way I’ll get there in time.

Seventy miles an hour.

Eighty miles an hour.

Eighty-five.

I drive as fast as I can, but it’s not fast enough.

At 11:50, I pull over to the side of the road. If I close my eyes, I should be able to fall asleep before midnight. That is the blessing of what I have to go through—I am able to fall asleep in minutes.

Poor Haruto Watanabe. He is going to wake up on the side of an interstate, an hour away from his home. I can only imagine how terrified he’ll be.

I am a monster for doing this to him.

But I have my reason.

Day 6000

It’s time for Yoon Kee Ho to go to church.

I quickly dress myself in his Sunday best, which either he or his mother conveniently left out the night before. Then I go downstairs and have breakfast with his mother and his three sisters. There’s no father in sight. It doesn’t take much accessing to know he left just after the youngest daughter was born, and it’s been a struggle for their mom ever since.

There’s only one computer in the house, and I have to wait until Keeho’s mother is getting the girls ready to go before I can quickly boot it up and create the email address I gave Hanni last night. I can only hope that she hasn’t tried to get in touch with me already.

Keeho's name is being called—it’s church time. I sign off, clear the history, and join my sisters in the car. It takes me a few minutes to get their names straight—Pam is eleven, Lacey is ten, and Jenny is eight. Only Jenny seems excited about going to church.

When we get there, the girls head off to Sunday school while I join Keeho’s mother in the main congregation. I prepare myself for a Baptist service and try to remember what makes it different from the other church services I’ve been to.

I have been to many religious services over the years. Each one I go to only reinforces my general impression that religions have much, much more in common than they like to admit. The beliefs are almost always the same; it’s just that the histories are different. Everybody wants to believe in a higher power. Everybody wants to belong to something bigger than themselves, and everybody wants company in doing that. They want there to be a force of good on earth, and they want an incentive to be a part of that force. They want to be able to prove their belief and their belonging, through rituals and devotion. They want to touch the enormity.

It’s only in the finer points that it gets complicated and contentious, the inability to realize that no matter what our religion or gender or race or geographic background, we all have about 98 percent in common with each other. Yes, the differences between male and female are biological, but if you look at the biology as a matter of percentage, there aren’t a whole lot of things that are different. Race is different purely as a social construction, not as an inherent difference. And religion—whether you believe in God or Yahweh or Allah or something else, odds are that at heart you want the same things. For whatever reason, we like to focus on the 2 percent that’s different, and most of the conflict in the world comes from that.

The only way I can navigate through my life is because of the 98 percent that every life has in common.

I think of this as I go through the rituals of a Sunday morning at church. I keep looking at Keeho’s mother, who is so tired, so taxed. I feel as much belief in her as I do in God—I find faith in human perseverance, even as the universe throws challenge after challenge our way. This might be one of the things I saw in Hanni, too—her desire to persevere.

After church, we head to Keeho’s grandmother’s house for Sunday dinner. There’s no computer, and even if it weren’t a three-hour drive away, there wouldn’t be any way for me to get to Hanni. So I take it as a day of rest. I play games with my sisters and make a ring of hands with the rest of my family when it’s time to say grace.

The only discord comes when we’re driving home and a fight breaks out in the backseat. As sisters, they probably have closer to 99 percent in common, but they’re not about to recognize that. They’d rather fight over what kind of pet they’re going to get … even though I’m not sensing any indication from their mother that a pet is in their near future. It’s an argument for its own sake.

When we get home, I bide my time before asking if I can use the computer. It’s in a very public place, and I will need everyone to be in another room in order to check my email. While the three girls run around, I retire to Keeho’s room and do his weekend homework the best that I can. I am banking on the fact that Keeho has a later bedtime than his sisters, and in this I am correct. After Sunday supper, the girls get an hour of television in the same room as the computer. Then Keeho’s mother tells them it’s time to get ready for bed. There’s much protest, but it falls on deaf ears. This is its own kind of ritual, and Mom always wins.

While Keeho’s mother is getting the girls into their pajamas and getting out their clothes for tomorrow, I have a few minutes on my own. I quickly check the email I set up in the morning, and there’s no message from Hanni yet. I decide it can’t hurt to be proactive here, so I type in her address and start an email before I can stop myself.

Hi Hanni,

I just wanted to say that it was lovely meeting you and dancing with you last night. I’m sorry the police came and separated us. Even though you’re not my type, gender-wise, you’re certainly my type, person-wise. Please keep in touch.

H

That seems safe enough to me. Clever, but not self-congratulatorially so. Sincere, but not overbearing. It’s only a few lines, but I reread it at least a dozen times before I hit send. I let go of the words and wonder what words will come back. If any.

Bedtime seems to be taking a while—it sounds like there’s some argument about which chapter their read-aloud left off on—so I load up my personal email.

Such an ordinary gesture. One click, and the instant appearance of the inbox, in all its familiar rows.

But this time it’s like walking into a room and finding a bomb right in the middle of it.

There, under a bookstore newsletter, is an incoming message from none other than Haruto Watanabe.

The subject line is WARNING.

I read:

I don’t know who you are or what you are or what you did to me yesterday, but I want you to know you won’t get away with it. I will not let you possess me or destroy my life. I will not remain quiet. I know what happened and I know you must be in some way responsible. Leave me alone. I am not your host.

“Are you okay?”

I turn and find Keeho’s mother in the doorway.

“I’m fine,” I say, positioning myself in front of the screen.

“Alright, then. You have ten minutes more, then I want you to help me unload the dishwasher and head to bed. We have a long week ahead of us.”

“Okay, Mom. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

I turn back to the email. I don’t know how to respond, or if I should respond. I have a vague recollection of Haruto’s mother interrupting me while I was on the computer—I must have closed the window without clearing the history. So when Haruto loaded up his email, it must have been my address that popped up. But he doesn’t know my password, so the account itself should be safe. Just in case, though, I know I need to change my password and move all my old emails, quick.

I will not remain quiet.

I wonder what this means.

I can’t forward all my old emails in the ten minutes that I have, but I start to make a dent in them.

“Keeho!”

Keeho’s mother calls me and I know I have to go. But clearing the history and turning off the computer can’t stop my thoughts. I think about Haruto waking up on the side of the road. I try to imagine what he must have felt. But the truth is, I don’t know. Did he feel like it was something he had gotten himself into? Or did he immediately know that something was wrong, that someone else had been in control? Was he sure of this when he went to his computer and saw my email address?

Who does he think I am?

What does he think I am?

I head into the kitchen and Keeho’s mother gives me another look of concern. She and Keeho are close, I can tell. She knows how to read her son. Over the years, they’ve been there for each other. He’s helped raise his sisters. And she’s raised him.

If I really were Keeho, I could tell her everything. If I really were Keeho, no matter how hard it was to understand, she would be on my side. Fiercely. Unconditionally.

But I am not really her son, or anyone’s son. I can’t disclose what’s bothering Keeho today, because it doesn’t have much bearing on who he’ll be tomorrow. So I brush off his mother’s concern, tell her it’s no big deal, then help her take the dishes out of the dishwasher. We work in quiet camaraderie until the task is done, and sleep calls.

For a while, though, I can’t go to sleep. I lie in bed, stare at the ceiling. This is the irony: Even though I wake up in a different body every morning, I’ve always felt in some way that I am in control.

But now I don’t feel in control at all.

Now there are other people involved.

[thefreakydeaky]

You're No Good (Part 5)

Negan Smith x Reader

Various TWD Characters x Reader

Modern AU

Summary: Your husband came up with a way to keep you away from trouble but trouble just won't stay away from you.

Warnings: Angst

Negan texted you to meet him at a bar he'd been told about across town. Eager to get out of the house, you freshened your make up a bit, changed into a somewhat nicer outfit and left home.

You pasted the address Negan had given you into google maps and without really looking, selected the first option to pop up. Twenty minutes later when you arrived at your destination, you regretted not paying closer attention. You knew The Tap, knew it so well you had made friends with the bartender. Lots of cops liked to hang out there, Shane among them. You texted Negan about going somewhere, anywhere, else, but he didn't read your message.

You found a place to park as soon as you could and prepared to go in. Surely it had been long enough that your face had been forgotten.All you could think to do was go in and drag Negan out.

The Tap was an old place. It hadn't been updated one bit you noticed, your eyes going over the familiar honey wood bar and red vinyl bar stools. You could almost swear the Christmas lights they had up were the same ones from over ten years ago. You shook your head and focused on getting to the tables in the back, where Negan said he'd be. You made it almost to the end of the bar when someone called your name.

"Hey! We've missed you around these parts." The bartender told you. "How've you been?"

"Hey, Gavin. I'm good. I'm doing good. How are you?" You replied.

"The kids are good. The wife is happy. I can't complain." He reached for a glass and went to work making you what used to be your go to drink order, an amarretto sour.

You thanked him and picked up the glass.

"You here with someone?" He asked as he refilled someone's pint.

"I'm meeting my husband here actually." Your eyes scanned over the nearest two tables.

"What's he look like?"

"Tall, kind of on the thin side, dark greying hair..." You took a sip of your drink. "Wearing a suit."

Gavin nodded.

"Last table on the right."

"Thanks, Gavin." You smiled at him and went to meet your husband.

Negan stood up when he saw you.

"Hello, Baby." He greeted you. You went into his arms and gave him a kiss.

"Hello, Handsome." You couldn't help the warm grin that spread across your lips. "How was work?"

"It was a good day and you know, this is a pretty great place." Negan commented. Pulling the chair next to him out for you.

You didn't sit.

"I'm glad you've been enjoying yourself, but we've got to go." You tried not to make it sound too urgent, but still to convey the importance that you leave.

He raised one almost perfectly shaped dark eyebrow.

"Come on, Baby. You just got your drink and I haven't finished this one just yet." He patted the chair beside his.

You frowned.

"I'm serious, Negan. We have to go."

He released a puzzled chuckle.

"You came all the way here just to tell me we have to leave? I've only had two, Babe. How drunk did you think I'd be?"

"No, it's not that. It's-it's..."

"I'm not ready to go yet. Let's sit here and relax a while, hmm?" He tried to reason with you.

"Negan, please. Can you trust me on this? It's important that we leave be-"

"Well don't go on my account." Shane retorted over your shoulder. "Cause I am perfectly comfortable with you being here."

You cringed at the sound of his voice.

"We were just leaving." You told Shane. "Come on, Negan."

Shane stuck out his hand.

"Hey, Negan is it? I'm Shane."

Negan shook his hand looking between the two of you as if trying to work out who he was to you.

"You another one of her affairs or are you the husband?" Shane shot off.

You winced. You couldn't bring yourself to look at Negan.

"Look, I said I was sorry. I am. I'm sorry, but as I was saying-"

"Do you know, she didn't tell me she was married till after?" Shane spoke directly to Negan, ignoring you. "During she was telling me she missed me and she loved me, but after," He laughed a hollow humorless sound. "After, she tells me she's married. Do you think that's right? Cause I don't think that's right."

You glared at Shane.

"I never said that," You grit your teeth. "All I said was that you were a good lay."

Negan stood then. You watched him, worried. The expression on his face gave nothing away, but you knew how he felt. You had felt the same way when you received a phone call from the woman he slept with. He went around you, straight to the bar to pay his tab.

"What? You don't have anything to say?" Shane prodded, following behind him.

Negan signed the receipt, took up his card and put it back in his wallet.

"What she does while I'm at work is her business."

Shane turned to look at you, disbelief and anger in his eyes.

"You're an adult and yet here you are trying to what? Tell on her? Get her in trouble? Grow up." Negan responded in a tired voice and left the bar.

•••••••••••••

"Negan?" You came into your house through the garage. The whole drive back home you had been worrying yourself about what Negan was thinking. How shitty he must be feeling. You didn't know what you would do if he left you.

"Negan?" You called again walking down the long hallway to the back of the house.

He didn't respond. You checked his office and finding it empty went to your bedroom.

Negan was in a pair of sweats and a white undershirt, sitting in bed watching basketball.

You let out a breath of relief. You had thought up a scenario where he would be packing up and leaving.

You sat at the edge of the bed by his legs.Your gaze was on the hardwood floor.

"I'm so sorry." You took a deep breath. "I never said I loved him. He was just trying to-"

"I don't really wanna talk about this right now." He told you.

"But-"

He said your name in a stern tone. "I said, no."

You faced him.

The way his jaw was set, his eyes filled with emotion, you knew he was hurt and so you left it alone for the time being.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Almighty (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: Weather is getting cold and I keep showering at night I love to suffer -Danny Words: 2,367 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

XXVII: At the Next Inconvenience, I Will Start Biting People

"Apollo, show them your talking arrow."

"Talking arrow?" Emmie asks with interest.

"I will not show them my talking arrow," Lester frowns. "I will, however, share the limerick."

"No!" Calypso and Leo cover their ears dramatically.

"There once was a god named Apollo—Who plunged in a cave blue and hollow—Upon a three-seater—The bronze fire-eater—Was forced death and madness to swallow."

Jo frowns. "Never before has any voice dared to utter a limerick in this house, Apollo."

"And let us hope no one will ever do so again. But such was the prophecy of Dodona that brought us here."

"'A cave blue and hollow'... That's the Oracle of Trophonius, all right. It's located in the Bluespring Caverns, about eighty miles south of town."

"Easiest quest ever, then," Leo grins. "We get Festus running, then we look up this place on Google Maps and fly down there."

"Doubtful," Josephine sighs. "The emperor has the surrounding countryside heavily guarded. You couldn't fly a dragon anywhere near Bluespring without getting shot out of the sky. Even if you could, the cave entrances are all way too small for a dragon to plunge into."

"But the limerick—"

"May be deceptive," Lester shakes his head. "It is, after all, a limerick."

Ara eats and spaces out. At first, she's not paying attention to what she's putting in her mouth, until she takes a bite and the taste makes her spit it back onto the plate. Fortunately no one notices, but she stares at it confused. Five seconds ago the bread tasted good, homemade. Now it had an awful flavour, like sand mixed with rice cakes. She gulps down the lemonade to wash it down and chokes on it. That tastes even worse.

"No, no, no..." She closes her eyes and buries her nails in the soft flesh of her knees, not drawing blood, just marking them. The spots are purple, which tells her human blood is still pumping through her veins. It grounds her and makes her feel like a normal person.

Ara grabs her fork and stabs a piece of fried onion. The bite explodes in her tastebuds like it always does. Sweet. She seizes her drink and takes a large gulp again. Sweet and fresh. Ara places the glass on the table.

The conversation around her stops as the windows darken for a second. Jo and Emmie leave the table to check the entrance and Ara does too, but the ladies stop her. "Look after your friends," Jo tells her. "Our job is to look after our home."

"Their calling." The voice washes over Ara like a bucket of ice-cold water. Slowly, she turns to the right and spots Janus, leaning against the kitchen counter. They wave at her, smiling in a lazy manner, they lack their usual malice, but Ara feels threatened nonetheless. "Cheer up, General, there is only one last choice to make, the easiest."

"You've given up everything to get here," Right smirks. "All but one thing."

"What is it?" Ara asks under her breath. "What's the crossroad?"

Lester looks at her. "What?"

Janus goes away and Ara's hand buries in her pocket, squeezing Almighty. Jo and Emmie call Lester in a sort of suspicious voice, so Ara follows and watches the boy get trapped into a net, squealing like a preschooler. The girl draws out her sword but Lester screams at her to stand back, so she does. Leo and Calypso come out of the kitchen to see what's happening and they witness a goddess undo the trap. The group quickly goes to the boy to make sure he's okay. 

"Who is this lady?" Leo gives the woman the stinkeye.

"Britomartis," Lester grunts. "The Lady of Nets."

"Does that include basketball and the Internet?"

"Just hunting and fishing nets. She is one of my sister's minions."

"Minion? I am no minion."

"No, you'd have to be yellow and tiny," Ara responds. "You're just a bully."

Jo clears her throat. "Uh, sorry, Apollo. The Lady insisted on getting your attention this way."

"Well, I had to see if he would step in my trap. And he did. As usual. Hemithea, Josephine... give us the room, please." The goddess regards Ara with interest, and the girl has the gross feeling that every god-like entity knows happening to her. She's naked and they're all judging her, an emperor's new clothes kind of situation.

The women back off and Ara eyes them with unease. It never ends, having to listen. Even when you cut ties with one god, others come to bother you. What kind of life is she going to be facing?

"Britomartis, eh? Never heard of you," Calypso says haughtily. She has trouble remembering she shouldn't speak like that to other gods. "You must be minor."

"Oh, but I've heard of you, Calypso. Exiled to Ogygia after the Titan War. Waiting for whatever man might wash up on your shores to break your heart and leave you alone again. That must have gotten terribly old." She looks at Leo. "This is your rescuer, eh? A bit short and scruffy for a knight in shining armor."

"Hey, lady," Leo takes the comment about his height personally, like always. "I've blown up way more powerful goddesses than you before."

"He's my friend," Calypso defends him. "Not my knight in shining armor."

"Yeah!" Leo continues.

"Although he is short and scruffy."

He frowns. "Girl, I'm taller than you."

"May I ask what is it that you need from us?" Ara asks so the rest can focus.

"Whenever my sister wanted to design some elaborate contraption—something twisted and dangerous—she was her go-to girl," Lester explains. "This is her house."

The goddess bows playfully. "You flatter me. Now come, my friends! Let's sit and talk!"

They all get closer to the couches and chairs, but Leo glances at them, scowls, and extends his arm to stop Calypso and Ara from sitting. "Hold up," he pulls a yardstick from his tool belt and hits one cushion. A bear trap snaps shut and makes the girls yelp. Ara was so distracted sulking that only now she noticed the faint glitter hovering over the couch.

"Are you kidding?" Calypso snaps at the older woman.

"Oops!" Britomartis giggles.

"There's a trip wire along the back of those cushions, too. Does that... Does that trigger a Bouncing Betty?" Leo asks in disbelief.

"You're good! Yes, indeed. That is a modified pressure-activated S-mine."

"Lady, if that went off, it would bounce three feet in the air, explode, and kill all of us with shrapnel."

"Exactly!" Britomartis smiles. "Leo Valdez, you'll do nicely."

Ara glances at him, that's exactly what she thought of him once, lifetimes ago. Leo mutters complaints while deactivating the traps, and Ara can't help swooning. She loves it when he sees traps without having to touch anything, she still thinks it's the coolest thing ever. Her skin lights up golden and flushes, even after all this time, her attraction is just as strong as it was a winter ago.

"Is that safe?" Lester asks, bringing her back from her fangirling.

Leo makes a little noise of approval and Ara notices he's looking at Lester weirdly. He's moody. "Yeah. Looks okay."

Britomartis grins once everyone's seated. "Well, isn't this nice?"

"No."

"You asked me why I sent Jo and Emmie away. I love them dearly, but I don't think they'd appreciate the quest I'm about to give you."

"Quest?" Calypso arches a brow. "I'm pretty sure I'm an older divinity than you, Bouncing Betty. What right do you have to give me a quest?"

Ara glances at her with exasperation. So far they've encountered nothing but monsters and two former hunters, so Ara wasn't fussy about the way Calypso spoke to any of them, but this is a goddess and deities are fickle. Calypso shouldn't anger one before figuring out whether she's an ally or foe.

"Aren't you cute. Hon, I was around when the ancient Greeks were living in caves. I started out as a Cretan goddess. When the rest of my pantheon died out, Artemis befriended me. I joined her Hunters and here I am, thousands of years later, still weaving my nets and setting my traps."

"Yes," Lester mutters. "Here you are."

"Dear Apollo, you really do make a darling Lester Papadopoulos. Come here."

"Don't tease me," he sulks, and Ara sees his soul light for the first time. It's not the color she'd expected from a sun god, but a light baby blue that reminds her of an early sky, which still makes perfect sense.

"I'm not! Now that you're a harmless mortal, I've decided to finally give you that kiss."

Lester shakes his head, but Ara can sense his longing. "You're tricking me. I won't do it."

"When have I ever tricked you?"

"Thebes! You promised to meet me in the forest for a romantic picnic. Instead I was trampled by a giant wild boar!"

"That was a misunderstanding."

"What about the Ingrid Bergman incident?"

"Oh, she really did want to meet you. How was I to know someone had dug a Burmese tiger pit outside her trailer?"

"And the date with Rock Hudson?"

"Well, I never actually said he was waiting for you in the middle of that minefield. I just let you assume. You have to admit, though, the two of you would've made a cute couple."

"Rock Hudson," Leo holds back a grin. "In a minefield."

"Apollo was so adorable, skipping through the daisies until he exploded," Britomartis giggles.

"In case you've forgotten, I am no longer immortal. So, please, no Burmese tiger pits."

"I wouldn't dream of it! No, this quest isn't designed to kill you. It might kill you, but it's not designed to. I just want my griffins back."

"You mean the whole lot?" Ara asks, resigned to obey and wanting to get out of this conversation as soon as possible.

"Heloise and Abelard will do just fine, thank you," she pauses. "Well, actually, General, the Emperor has been capturing mythical animals from all over the Midwest to use in his diabolic games. They must be freed."

"Don't know why I asked," she mutters grumpily.

Leo fidgets with the pieces of landmine he deactivated. "You're putting your griffins' safety ahead of Jo and Emmie's daughter."

"Jo and Emmie's priorities have been compromised. They would not be able to hear this, but the griffins must come first. I have my reasons. Being a goddess, my needs take precedence. And you," she smiles at Ara, "are forced to listen."

"And I'm the only one not opposing, as you can tell," Ara says soberly.

"Which proves you are wise. As for your friends..." She sighs. "I promised Artemis I would try to help you three, but don't test my patience. You'd look wonderful as northern crested newts."

"And if we find these griffins?" Lester asks.

"Then I'll tell you how to infiltrate the emperor's lair. Being the goddess of traps, I know all about secret entrances!"

"How is that a fair trade?" He demands with outrage.

"Because, you adorable Lester, you need to infiltrate the palace to rescue Georgina and the other prisoners. Without them, the Waystation is doomed, and so are your chances of stopping the Triumvirate. Also, the palace is where you'll find the Throne of Memory. If you can't retrieve that, your trip to the Cave of Trophonius will kill you. You'll never save the other Oracles. You'll never get back to Mount Olympus."

"And I'll never go home..." Ara mumbles, but Lester hears it.

He turns to Leo. "I'm new to this heroic-quest business. Shouldn't there be a reward at the end? Not just more deadly quests?"

"Nope," Leo smiles with no real empathy for the boy. "This is pretty standard."

Lester's eyes linger on Ara, who's now glaring at her fingernails. "What would you have us do? Wouldn't these griffins be held at the emperor's palace? Couldn't we do some one-stop shopping?"

"Oh, no. The really important animals, the rare and valuable ones... the emperor keeps those in a special facility with the proper resources to care for them. The Indianapolis Zoo."

Ara hums. "Never infiltrated a Zoo before. I did get chased by killer baby chickens once, when Percy and I were eight."

Lester decides that's too much to unpack so he turns back to the goddess. "The griffins will be well guarded..."

"Absolutely! So please try to release the griffins before you get injured or killed. Also, you must hurry—"

"Here comes the time limit," Leo narrates for Lester's benefit. "There's always a time limit."

"In three days," Britomartis nods, "the emperor plans to use all the animals and prisoners in one massive celebration."

"A naming ceremony," Lester guesses. "Nanette, the blemmyae who almost killed us, she mentioned something about that."

"Indeed. This emperor... he loves naming things after himself. At the ceremony, he plans to rechristen Indianapolis."

Ara rubs her brow and sighs. "Their dicks must be so small..."

"The blemmyae mentioned something else," Lester continues, already an expert at ignoring her. "The emperor wanted to sacrifice two special prisoners. Me and the girl."

"Georgina," Cal says with worry.

"Exactly!" Britomartis smiles. "The girl is safe enough for now. Imprisoned and insane, yes, but alive. You concentrate on freeing my griffins. Go to the zoo at first light. The emperor's guards will be ending their night shift then. They'll be tired and inattentive."

"Alright," Ara nods slowly. "Leo and I can—"

"Actually, Leo Valdez must remain here, General," Britomartis says with delight.

"Say what?" Leo straightens his posture.

"You've proven yourself skilled with traps! Emmie and Josephine need your help. The Waystation has defied discovery by the emperor so far, but that won't last much longer. He can't tolerate any opposition. He will find this sanctuary. And he means to destroy it. You, Leo Valdez, can help shore up the defenses."

"But—"

"It'll be fine," Ara assures him, although the quest will be like crawling through concrete blindfolded without his aid. Nevertheless, she needs to test things, see how she handles leaving Leo behind... just out of pure curiosity.

"Cheer up!" Britomartis beams. "You can go with your lord Apollo, and Calypso is allowed to join. Two former immortals and..." her smile turns playful. "Your rising star, on a quest for me! Yes, I like that idea a lot."

Lester and Calypso hold back their protests for Ara's sake, suspecting she and Leo are far more upset by this arrangement. Ara nods curtly. "Consider it done."

"It's settled, then!" The goddess stands. "I'll meet you back here when you have my griffins. Don't fail me, mortals!" She says giddily. "Oh, I've always wanted to say that!"

Britomartis vanishes in a flash, and Ara visibly deflates, running a hand over her face. "Alright, let's get everything ready."

Next Chapter –>

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