#finding tourguides

[tourguideagency]

tourguide agency, global-jobs.com, https://www.global-jobs.com

[misshugs]

Desperate || snc

[req by @venusisaligned ] Another investigation, another scary night... well, maybe not so scary after all. They just can't seem to stop teasing you.

contains: SMUT +18, oral (m&w), cursing, pet names and all the good stuff

word count: 2.5k

[u n e d i t e d]

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"So this is the place?" You ask, looking at the Victorian-Styled house right infront of you. "Doesn't look half bad for like a 500 year old house."

"It looks great, right?" Sam smiled at you, opening up the door to the place. "Tour guide already told me where the key was so we can have a look before they get here."

"So we're having the place to ourselves for a couple of minutes?" Colby asked, walking inside after you.

"Yep, what do you guys wanna do?" Sam asked, closing the door.

"Well, we can do a lot of things in just a few minutes." Colby smirked while looking at you, making you chuckle.

"Ouf, don't threaten me with a good time." You answered to his obvious question.

"I never said anything, you dirty mind filled in the blanks."

"And how did you know I was thinking about that?" You raised a brow, leading him to think about it.

"Touché. You got me there." He laughed. "But hey. It really is an option. Just sayin'."

"You're hearing this guy right now?" You look at Sam while pointing at Colby, making them both smile.

"I mean, he does have a point..." Sam crept just a slight bit closer to you, making your heart skip a beat for a second, his intentions unsure, yet clear.

"Ah, you see? I'm not the only one." Colby proudly spoke up, making you roll your eyes.

"Oh, shut up."

"Make me." He quickly responded, gaining a giddy smile from him.

"I'll make you shut up alright." You said, your tone quickly shifting to a more flirtatious one, turning a switch on their system.

As you were slowly walking closer to Colby, Sam getting ready to join quickly after, a sound made you stop in the midst of cupping Colby's face on your hands and his hands quickly finding their way to your waist.

A knock.

"Hello?" Someone from outside asked. The tourguide.

You pouted, sighing as you separated from Colby's embrace. "Way to ruin the mood. Thought we had more time." You whispered, looking at Sam who was clearly bit annoyed by the timing.

"I did say minutes. Sorry." He apologized while quickly walking towards the door.

It gave Colby some time to grab your wrist and hold you closer, quickly giving you a peck on the lips. "Might be leaving me hanging now, but this isn't over." He whispered in your ear.

"Oh, I know." You smirked, walking towards the newly arrived people.

The tour wasn't long. The house had quite a few rooms, but most of them weren't really as interesting as the two main ones, where most of the activity was.

You were hugging yourself while listening to the guide talk about the story of the place and the people that have misteriously died.

"It is said that she killed herself, but there are speculations that say she was killed in her room while she was sleeping. Nothing quite confirmed, though. Since every time someone tries to talk to her she seems to avoid the topic."

"But she's able to answer any other question?" Colby asked the guide, gaining his attention for the meantime.

Leading him to not see Sam's hand slowly caressing your lower back, putting his hand underneath your shirt without anybody noticing.

You didn't respond to his touch to let him play it off, but your heart was palpitating at a higher rate the moment you felt his touch on your skin. You gulped, barely listening to the story as you kept on dozing off due to your attention being kept on... other things.

Although your vision was kept on Colby and the guide, your mind was vividly thinking, and feeling, Sam's touch. How he slowly descended his fingers to the waistband of your panties, softly playing with them before you could feel his hands getting deeper into your pants.

His hand holding onto one of your soft cheeks, squeezing them, making you sigh at the feeling. You looked up at him slightly. He seemed concentrated in the story, unlike you. If it weren't for the fact that you could no longer think straight due to your sex quickly heating up, you'd think he was just extremely curious about the story.

It would've been the case for anyone else looking at him.

Before his fingers could descend closer to where you needed him to be, he pulled away. Putting his hand on your shoulder, he answered a question the guide had asked him.

Looking at him, you almost wanted to whine about losing his touch, but you couldn't. There were others around, you couldn't.

And that's what made it worse. Or better. You could feel the adrenaline, your heat quickly turning sticky and getting caught on your underwear due to the sudden dampness.

Quickly, the questions were over and so was the tour.

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It was almost 12 in the morning, you guys were back from a lunch break whilst waiting for it to get late. The house in the daylight didn't seem too scary. In fact, it actually seemed quite vivid and beautiful.

But you couldn't say the same about it at nighttime. It was frightening, it had a different vibe to it that you just couldn't put your finger on.

Almost as if it were alive, but not in a good way like before. It felt as if it was desperately trying to pull you in, only for you to never walk back out.

Your easy going nature almost jumped out of the window when you walked inside. It felt cold, dead.

How ironic.

"Wow, it really does feel different at night." You said, remembering some of the few words you could remember the guide telling you about. This was... normal.

"It really does... it makes it spookier." Sam smirked. "Hopefully we get some good activity tonight." He gave you a quick glimpse before walking around.

As they began recording and walking around with you, your instinct cracked through and you held onto Colby's arm for some feeling of protection, which he didn't argue about.

"Alright, I think it's time to get the equipment, I'll be right back." Sam gestured to the outside, walking away.

Colby, on the other hand, didn't waste a second to get his hands on you. Quickly pinning you towards a wall, his lips interlocked with yours. A slow, wet and messy kiss.

His leg finding its way in the middle of yours, inducing pressure on your heat, letting out a moan that was drowned by the makeout session.

A hand slowly descended towards your hip, his thumb making circles around the slit where your skin was visible. When the both of you pulled away from the kiss, he didn't waste any time and slid his hand inside your pants and right in between your legs, touching your clothed cunt and making you whine in response.

"Such a tease you are. You're already wet for me, for us." He whispered in your ear, making circles on your clit. You panted at the feeling, your legs almost giving up.

"Colby..." You sighed.

"Desperate already? I can feel it." He kissed your burning cheek, giving you even more pressure with a mere finger.

If this is how one of his fingers made you feel, imagine everything else.

"Alright," You could hear Sam coming back, which made Colby smirk and pull away from you, making you whine at the sudden loss of touch. "Here's everything."

"Then let us begin, brother." Colby said, walking away from you. Sighing, you followed close behind.

It was absurd, you could simply fuck right there without an issue, but they knew you liked this. They knew you loved to be teased, to be on the edge at all times.

And they were right, you fucking loved it.

And it went like that for the whole night. Not even when the both of them were in the room you were... 'safe'. One of them was always closer to you than the other, therefore, more chances of him to touch you softly without the other noticing.

Or, at least, that's what you though. Both of them knew what they were doing alright, but they were acting as oblivious as possible to make it more entertaining.

It was going to be a bit complicated to edit out, though.

Whenever they started using some sort of method to communicate, they started to get touchy with you in the most discrete way possible.

Even whilst asking questions while doing the estes method. Somehow, they always seemed to find a way of holding you closer, getting more intimate without the camera on strict view of you.

A whole hour of teasing passed and you just couldn't handle it anymore. When Sam walked out of one of the main rooms, you held onto Colby's hand and got him closer to you, kissing him once again like before.

He smiled in the middle of the kiss, holding you by the hips while you cupped his face. Stepping away from the kiss, he chuckled.

"Babe, we need to keep going."

"Oh, fuck the investigation. I can't hold it anymore Colby, please." You whined, desperation on your words. "I need you."

He couldn't help but smile brighter. "You don't know how much I've been waiting for you to say that." He whispered before holding you up to walk you towards the bed.

He hurriedly got to taking off your shirt, trying not to separate his lips from you as much as he could. Kissing your neck whilst taking off your bralet, you tried to take off his shirt, successfully throwing it away.

Going back to your lips, his rough kisses were as desperate as you were. You grabbed the back of his neck, intensifying it and playing with his hair. You could feel his hands on your waistband, quickly pulling down your pants and leaving you with the last piece of clothing that was covering your cunt.

Before he could even remove it, you heard a noise, a knock. The both of you looked at the door, at Sam. He was with his hands crossed across his chest and his body resting on the door.

"So we're finally doing it?" He raised a brow and walked in looking at the both of you.

"Finally?" You panted, still with a shaky breath and looking at him confused.

"Yeah, well, when I said 'activity' I didn't just mean paranormal. We're not that oblivious as to what both of us were doing all this time, sweetheart." He responded, holding onto your cheek and kissing you softly. "I just wasn't expecting it to be so soon."

"She got desperate." Colby said, which made Sam chuckle.

"As always. Can't handle some teasing, hm?"

"Just... just... please." You begged, already feeling drunk by their mere touch.

"Please what, baby?" He asked, crawling on top of the bed. Colby made you lie on your chest, giving you a slap on the ass when he got the oportunity, making you whine.

"Please, take it off..." You mewled, feeling another slap before moving your hand towards his crotch.

"Then pull it out if you need it so badly, sweetheart." Colby whispered in your ear, biting it slightly. You could feel his fingers rubbing against your aching cunt, slowly pressing against the fabric.

You gulped and did as told, holding onto Sam's pants and taking off his belt, unzipping his pants. Your panties were slowly being pulled down while you kept on paying attention to the bulge underneath Sam's pants.

On the other hand, Colby's eyes darkened at the view he was receiving. Your dripping wet cunt made his own mouth water. He held onto your ass cheeks tightly before moving his thumbs towards your lips and spreading them apart.

Such a lewd site to admire. Licking his lips, he got on his knees and gave you a long, wet, lick. A moan escaped your lips, gripping onto the clothed dick you were rubbing against your palm, making him grunt a soft "Fuck."

Your legs shuddered at the feeling of his tongue against your heat. It almost made you lose consciousness right there due to your neediness.

"Come on, love. Don't leave me hanging." Sam snapped you from your dream world. You obliged, taking out his growing friend and admiring the view, trying to surpress some moans before holding his length and stroaking it a few times with the precum that was already dripping from his tip.

It made him sigh in response, touching your hair and softly caressing it in the meanwhile. "That's it. Mh." He bit his lower lip while looking at your panting face. Colby, on the other hand, started sucking aggressively. Thrusting his tongue deep inside of you, touching as much as he could.

Moaning whilst savouring your taste, trying to memorize every single inch of you with his tongue. It made you moan in response, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Trying not to wait any longer, you put Sam's dick inside of your warm mouth. Sucking onto his tip, trying to regain a bit of the consciousness You've been seemingly getting away from.

Bobbing your head up and down his length, you couldn't help but moan around it, giving him vibrations that made him see the stars for a few seconds. He helped you out, pushing himself deeper inside of you, almost making you gag at how filled your mouth was.

A few tears falling from your eyes while the pleasure from both sides was noticeable. You could feel the quick knot on your stomach unravelling, making you unconsciously close your legs around Colby's face, only for him to slap your ass one more time, making you moan once again.

It didn't take long until you released yourself. Him, helping you ride out your orgasm while Sam started thrusting harder against your throat, releasing himself inside it. Pulling away, he smirked at the face you were making. He couldn't hold himself, switching you around so that you could look at Colby.

"Look at this pretty little face, so needy for us." Sam said, cleaning a bit of his cum that was dripping out of your mouth. You gulped it down while looking at Colby's smile. Before he could even respond, you all heard a beep.

It was a REM-POD.

"Almost forgot this was a haunted house." Colby chuckled and stood up. It seems he fisted himself whilst he was busy eating you up. "So, let's continue that video, shall we? We definitely gave the ghosts a show just now." He laughed and fixed himself. As you looked at him confused, Sam stood up and fixed his pants as well.

You were in disbelief. Were they really going to just continue on like that?

"I'm sorry, but... fuck the video." You said, trying to regain your breath before completely sitting down. "Come here and fuck me instead."

Needless to say, you guys weren't able to finish the video.

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sorry that it took me a while (i had writers block for a while) but i finally found a good concept to go with to make it more interesting! hope you like it!

reblogs, comments and likes are appreciated <3

~nikkõ

[thelastofhyde]

ii. santorini.

pairing. tourguide!joel miller x fem!reader. series synopsis. on the brink of undergoing a life-altering change, you runaway from your problems in the only way any sane person can: embarking on a mediterranean cruise. there you meet joel miller, a grumpy, private tour-guide, who just so happens to be tasked with touring you through each stop on your cruise. from greek goddesses to roman ruins, you have ten days to avoid your fate. maybe a frowning, southern, sex-on-legs of a man is just what the doctor ordered. chapter summary. tensions are high as you and joel spend your first day together exploring the popular island of santorini. back on the boat, joel gets a glimpse at more than he bargained for. series warnings. no use of y/n, set in 2015, no apocalypse au, cruise!au, rom-com, enemies-ish to lovers, tour-guide!joel, unspecified age gap, depictions/discussions of grief, angst, fluff, a whole load of smut, a lot of cheesy stereotypical romance tropes bc i just wanna see joel not suffer ( too much ) <3 chapter warnings. mild smut ( female masturbation, mentions of oral sex + piv sex ), bickering, alcohol, mild angst, so much cheese it'll turn you lactose intolerant!! btw joel hates santorini and he makes that known, but none of his opinions reflect my own ( please don't be mean to me over things characters say <33 ) word count. 7.9k hyde’s input. the majority of this chapter was written with a mixture of medicine flowing through my veins, it's a miracle it's even intelligible. apologies for the wait, the holidays and health issues got in the way <3 as always, i hope you enjoy, comments an dreblogs are always appreciated !! previous chapter - next chapter - series masterlist

It is a known fact that your name and late rarely exist within the same sentence.

The mere thought of being late fills you with a sickness you cannot cure. The extremes you’ll go to avoid it know no bounds. From arriving four hours before a flight, to waiting in your car a whole hour before entering a lecture hall, adulthood is a phase in which you’d sworn to repair the damage of a childhood worth of not arriving late.

Late to school, late to birthday parties, late to dentist appointments.

It wasn’t that you were a particularly difficult child, running rampant around the house as your mother tried to dress you, or your father tried to feed you. Quite the contrary, really. Often, it was little-you who chased around after them, and who waited by the door, school bag in hand, tapping your foot with every second that ticked by on the clock. You were too young and hadn’t the ability nor the empathy to understand that your parents were held up with sorting through things directly influenced by your existence, like cleaning up the messes you left at the breakfast table, or fixing the doorknob you and your sister broke in an intense game of hide and seek.

Nowadays, you can count on one hand the times you’ve been late.

First, you were late to your own surprise birthday party, but that was down to you getting stuck an extra hour at work. It was out of your control.

Then, there’d been your graduation ceremony. Your father missed an exit and ended up taking you on a mystery tour of the city, trying to find the next turn that led to your campus. Again, out of your control.

The third time is the one you remember panicking over the most, knee bouncing uncontrollably with nerves as you sat squeezed between two strangers on a plane. Your sister, barely halfway through her third trimester, had gone into labour, and where were you? Stumbling around drunk on a private beach in Cancún, mumbling along to the lyrics of some early 2000s classic you forget the name of. Your niece, all 4 and a half pounds of her, had decided now was her time to shine and there was nothing, not even the 4 weeks she had yet to grow in utero, that was going to stop her. By the time you arrived, mascara smudged eyes and with the stench of tequila still on your skin, she was laying peacefully in her incubator, the tiniest little fingers clenched into fists and a name tag around her wrist. This too was out of your control.

But the fourth time you’re late, as you stride urgently across the wooden decking of the ship, weaving in and out of lounge chairs and polo-neck wearing crew members, it’s completely within your control.

Yet, it’s not entirely your fault.

An alarm that never went off. A game of hide-and-seek with your purse. An unfortunate slip on bathroom tiles adding another bruise to your knees. An elevator that refused to travel faster than the speed of a snail. It’s as though Lady Luck had set out in favour of being against you, doing her utmost to ensure you arrive exactly seven minutes past your deadline. His deadline.

Best be on the deck by 7 am, darlin’, or I’m dockin’ without ya.

Your head whips from one side to another, eyes finding a familiar figure amongst the few passengers meeting their own private guides. It’s the same man from yesterday, out on the balcony, the memory of him cheering his champagne and shooting a tipsy smile your way replaying. Only now he’s clad in plaid, with a frown etched into his forehead as he stares at his watch. There’s another man, hanging off his arm, fusing with the collar of his shirt.

“She’s late,” you overhear him say, voice firm and leaking with annoyance.

“Maybe she just slept in!” The man next to him is cheerier, tired eyes full of optimism, even as he turns his head and stifles a yawn. “Give her a few minutes.”

“What kind of shitty tour guide sleeps in?” Balcony-Man huffs, and you can’t help but think of your niece and her pouty face whenever she fails to get her own way. “Does she think I’d not rather be asleep too? Lazy c-”

“See? This is why I told you to eat that damn croissant before we left.” The taller of them seems to snap, rolling his eyes. “Brighten up, Bill, or so help me God you’ll be leaving this boat a divorcee.”

Trying to tune their voices out, as the guilt of prying crawls its way into your bones, your gaze points down at your feet. The very same heels you’d worn last night, pretty as they may leave you, have you cursing at the Sun and the Moon. If you’d have just worn your sneakers, maybe you could have ran up the stairs instead of taking the snail-evator.

Joel, tour guide, Signore Miller’s voice- though your imagination can’t quite reach his level of arrogance- rears its irritating head through your mind, recalling his words from last night. Wear somethin’ a little more… practical. That had been enough to awaken that stubborn mule inside of you, hell-bent on proving him wrong.

But now, late, and with him nowhere in sight, your heels seem to have had the opposite effect. They’ve proved him right.

Which leaves you here, moping so pathetically you’re incapable of appreciating the shine of a rising sun over the horizon of aqua blue water.

Five minutes, you decide. That’s how long you’ll allow yourself to dwell in self-pity. Then, you’ll trek your way over to the Excelsior lounge, hit up the breakfast buffet, and await the general disembarking time.

Who knows, maybe you’ll get a call to say there’s a miraculous spot opened up on one of the tour groups.

If not, you’ll be fine! You’ve travelled alone before, you’ve got an all-inclusive data plan on your phone and you’re pretty well-acquainted with the less-than-accommodating features of Google Maps. You don’t need help, or a tour guide, much less one as blood-boiling, skin-prickling, irritating as Joel Mil-

“Wasn’t sure how ya like your coffee, but you look like a milk, two sugars kind of girl to me.”

Speak of the Devil and he shall appear. Or, in this case, think of him.

Turning a little too fast, you stumble a step or two back, and, sure enough, there he is. A tight fitting, dark grey t-shirt stretched over the swell of his biceps, a pair of washed-out denims, and two well-worn running shoes, one on each foot. Trailing up the swell of his tanned neck, you count the freckles up to his eyes, and find there’s bags under them. The growth of hair on his face is just as unkempt as yesterday, yet already it seems to have grown longer, making the litter of greys stand out more. The hair that sits atop his head is damp, and the strands that have managed to dry are being messed around by the morning air. He’s still got that ever-present frown stamped into his forehead, yet his mouth doesn’t seem to curl into a snarl as he calls your name.

You must stare a moment or two past his comfort level, for he clears his throat and nods down at his hand. Two to-go cups, the smallest streams of steam floating out the hole in each lid.

He’s extending one out- the one in his right hand- towards you. “If you’d rather black, you can take min-”

“No!” You snap back into your own body, all too quickly and all too volatile. Clear your throat, and then try again, this time with a little less of that im being held at gunpoint shake in your voice. “No… Thank you. It’s fine- Milk is fine.”

It’s more than fine.

In fact, he’s gotten it spot on. Down to the number of sugars you take.

But, still stubborn, you yearn to not give him the satisfaction of being right so early in the day, and instead settle for accepting the coffee out his hand. You welcome the golden warmth eagerly, eyes unable to resist slipping shut as you take your first sip. When they reopen, you find Joel watching you, intently. Purposefully, as though you’re something to be studied.

Clearing your throat, you glance to the side and spot Balcony-Man and his partner greeting an apologetic woman.

“Thanks for the, uh,” his stare is intimidating your nerves, setting you on edge of something you’re all to eager to jump off. “Coffee. Yeah. You didn’t have to… I mean, I actually thought you’d, you know, uh-”

“You thought I left without ya.” He states. All you can do is nod. “I could’ve. I did warn you not to be late.”

“You did.”

“I also told you to wear somethin’ other than them heels.”

“I know.”

“Yet here you are, late and in heels. You’re not very good at following orders.” He exhales something akin to a chuckle, as devoid of humour as it may be, and you swear he’s suddenly closer than you remember, knuckles brushing against your own as he bumps his paper cup against yours. “Just what am I gonna do with ya, huh?”

For a moment, you swear your heart has leaped from your chest and up to your throat, threatening to choke you with the beat of it. There’s no sense you can make of it, this reaction he rouses, a heat you can’t control creeping down your loins as you drag in a whiff of some manly cologne, the kind you’d usually turn your nose up at for being too overbearing. Yet, on him, it’s not. On him it’s just right, like he was born with pine soaked skin, and a tobacco stained kiss, and-

Before you can think of pulling in another breath, Joel’s stepped back, allowing a cool breeze to pass between you and get a hold of your senses.

“C’mon, we’re slotted in for the first tender that leaves for shore.”

“Oh my God.”

You’re half certain Joel’s growing sick of hearing those three words roll off your tongue. He’s likely felt this way since it first left your mouth, feet struggling to safely step out onto the dock as your mind became enchanted by the picturesque view in front of you. Only the burn of his hand meeting your lower back, nudging you ahead to make space for himself and the other passengers to step off the tender boat, was capable of dragging you back into your own body, the wanderlust that had gripped your soul yearning to be free to explore every building that sits carved into rock, every water-taxi that flows idly on cristaline water, every step that winds up and up and up the island’s cliff where, at the top, civilisation seems to lie.

The port you’ve docked on is rather small, with naught more than two docking strips and a walkway of shops and confection stands, with boats that find no space along the docking strips tying themselves to any safety they may find over the expanse of the walkway. It is no wonder the cruise floats safely out in deeper waters, alongside several other cruise lines, with no space for such large vessels. And, yet, the port is alive with something. The ground seems to pulse, like a beat of a heart, and the air, as fresh as the grass after heavy rainfall, almost dances its way down your lungs. Voices swim all around you, tourists scrambling past each other, fighting in a race towards something you’ve yet to identify.

“So this is Gialos, also known as the Old Port of Fira.” Somewhere, behind you perhaps, Joel’s voice pipes up, a speech so rehearsed and robotic, a part of your wonders how many times he’s recited it, how many people he’s recited it to. The other part of you, however, is much too fixated on the stairs ahead to pay him true attention, eyes following as two men and several donkeys descend. “That, up there, is Fira, the capital of Santorini. We’re going to need to take a cable- Are you even listening to me?”

“Yes!” You’re quick to react, a defensive rise in your voice. He meets it with a deadpan look and the crossing of his arms over his chest, which quickly becomes something you wish he wouldn’t do as you watch the tight fabric of his shirt stretch itself thin over the bulge of his arms. “No. Sorry, I’m just… Wow.”

You hope he appreciates the restraint you show towards repeating those three dreaded words again.

“You have all day to stare,” his words trip over his own irritated scoff, and you bite back a question of why he’s a guide if he seems to hate it so much, fearful he’s too honest to not tell you a truth that may hurt your fragile feelings. A truth where it is not so much his job he dislikes, but rather, your presence and all that it brings. “Right now, we need to move. Don’t wanna spend all day waitin’ in line now, do ya?”

This need for speed that hooks the other tourists seems to filter over into your guide, who’s forcing you forward, that heat of his palm now hovering inches away from your lower back. It’s enough to lead you where he pleases. As a pair, you weave in and out small clusters of people, till the space between you both and the large gathering crowd slowly diminishes. It is there where his once telepathic leading fails, with Joel turning left towards it as you stray right, over to the ascending pathway of stairs.

“Where are you going?” His tone is offended, almost, as he comes to a halt and watches you fail to do the same, to notice the space between you both and correct it like some puppy who’s been called to heel by its master.

“Where am I going?” The question, at first, is one you mistake as rhetorical. Staring back at him with an equaled confusion, you gesture to the stairway, as though it is the most obvious answer. Because, well, where else could you have been heading? He said so himself, that up there is Fira, the capital of Santorini, and you’ll be damned if you don’t get to see it. “Where are you going?”

“To the cable cars, that’ll take us up the island.”

Above the crowd of people, hanging over doors of small businesses, lay several signs. CABLE CARS - 6€ ! stands out, impossible to miss. Symbols you scarcely recognise sit beneath it, in smaller text, and you assume it’s Greek. In the distance, you spy the movement of the mobile boxes, people being carted up the length of the cliff at a speed that promises them a journey of mere minutes.

“Oh.” So, perhaps his option makes more sense than your own far longer, more tiring one. Still, stubborn as a mule, you double down on your decision to take the scenic route, inching closer towards the first step. Your guide, still in the face, refuses to move, daring eyes willing you to continue. “You want us to take the lazy man’s route? You go ahead, I’ll take the stairs and meet you at the top.”

You press one foot up onto the first step, weary of where you rest the point of your heel.

Glancing a few steps further up, there’s the unmistakable sight of a mound of brown substance, no doubt excreted out of one of the donkeys that walk ahead, tourists mounted on their poor backs.

“I don’t think you understand,” he finally inches closer, if only slightly, hands clenched at his side. “There’s five hundred and eighty-eight steps until you reach the top.”

The number is more daunting than you expect, and you pray he can’t read this on your face. “Only? I’ll be up in no time then!”

You feel more than see the way Joel’s eyes travel down the expanse of you, stuttering almost over the curvature of your chest, the dips at your hips, till they rest at your feet. The question hangs loose between you, unspoken yet evident.

In those heels?

“Listen, Joel,” taking a second, third, and fourth step, you aim for a literal higher ground, staring down below as he continues to drift closer and closer towards the stairway. “If you’re not fit for the task, or the climb’s no good for your knees, you can just say it, there’s no shame. Like I said, I’ll meet you at the top. Promise I won’t even report the fact my private guide abandoned me in favour of his own comfort.”

Defeat has never come easy.

Well, to phrase it better towards the truth, acceptance of defeat has never come easy.

There was always something more to be said, another excuse to be given for any of your shortcomings. When you’d been turned away from the school’s soccer team, you’d told yourself it was because you were a girl- ignoring the fact three girls in your year made the cut. When you’d lost an arduous game of Monopoly, you’d sworn you’d caught your sister sneaking notes out of the banker’s pile into her own. When you’d been beaten, round after round, by your own niece at Mario Kart, you’d stuck your tongue out at her and told her you let her win out of pity.

All that had been before, of course, back when you still roamed school hallways, when your sister sat across from you at the dining table, when your niece still laughed freely, wildly, celebrating her own victories with an over-the-top, uncoordinated dance around the living room.

As changed as things may be, defeat is still your foe.

It is that reason alone that you bite back a complaint.

You’d enjoyed the initial moments of your trek. Maybe it was the salty air in your lungs, or the beautiful views of your surroundings, or the idle grumbling coming from Joel, a few paces behind you, kicking up dirt under his feet with every step he travelled up. Whatever the reason, adrenaline had been flowing, into your heart and through your veins, covering every square inch of your body, a tingling of nerves from the tip of your toes to the top of your spine.

But, by the 10 minute mark, a dull ache forms in your feet. Each step of your heel feels more life threatening than the last, as the stairs grow slippier, dustier, and well-worn the further up you advanced. By stair who-knows-how-may, you take a near fatal tumble backwards, the crunch of crumbling rock threatening to be the last thing you hear. Till he appears behind you, fast as light, huffing out a breath as you smack down against his solid chest.

“Mind your step.” From anyone else, you would mistake it as a sign of care. From Joel, you know better than to think it’s anything beyond a humourless taunt.

You try to keep count of the steps, from then on, an effort to motivate yourself to move faster with each ten-pace you count. By 50, you lose your place and begin counting all over again.

The journey is difficult in other ways, too, with the constant passing of donkeys who obligate you to stand aside and make way for them. And the distant movement of cable cars, firing up and sliding down more times than you can keep track of.

When a particular step proves itself too steep, you can no longer hold back and, finally, a hiss slips out between your clenched teeth as pain shoots up your ankle, the leather of your shoe rubbing even harder into your brittle skin, threatening the promise of a blister yet to fully swell. Pushing the pain down, alongside a complaint, you take another step. Hiss. Then another, hiss. You can fight it no longer, bending at the waist to slip off your heel and examine the irritated skin.

Sure enough, it’s been rubbed raw, broken and spilling a small pool of blood.

Behind you comes an exasperated groan and, before you can straighten yourself to even register what’s happening, Joel barges past you and the figure of him up ahead slowly diminishes the faster he climbs up hill.

“Hey!” You call after him, hobbling to slip your shoe back on, but it’s to no avail.

He’s long gone, growing further and further out of your reach with each passing minute.

Cursing him under your breath, you decide to hell with the no complaints of his preferred regard for his own comfort. He’s abandoned you, injured and hobbling up the steps, all because he has the patience of a toddler who’s been waiting far too long to go potty.

“Wear somethin’ a little more sensible…” You’re bound to seem deranged to any passers by, half hopping up the steps, mumbling to yourself in a mockery of his deep voice “Yeah, right, how bout I shove somethin’ a little more sensible up your ass. Oh, what’s that? There’s no room up there with the massive stick you’re already carryin-”

“A local man warned me bout ya, on my way back down. Said there was some no-good girl casting out bad juju.” You freeze, foot stopped in mid-air. Shifting your gaze up ahead, you find Joel there, skipping a step every so often as he grows closer and closer. At his side, dangling from two fingers, sits a plastic bag. “Told him it ain’t no juju or curses you’re casting, just throwin’ a little tantrum.”

Like a fish out of water, all you can do is stare at him, wide eyes and mouth agape.

Joel pays your silence no mind, almost delighting in it. With a pop and a crack from his knees, he crouches down before you, holding out the palm of his hand.

“C’mon,” he mutters, pointing towards your injured foot. “Lemme see.”

You’re hesitant, at first, but ultimately lift it and let him curl his grip around it, holding you in place as the shoe slips off you. A tut meets your ears as his eyes meet the bloodied mess, and you watch how he contemplates, for a moment or two, before wetting his thumb with his tongue and swiping it over your broken skin.

It stings, like salt in a wound or a bee’s stinger through skin, and you try to flinch back, retract yourself from his hold. But Joel’s strong, resilient, nails biting at the flesh of your ankle to keep you in place. His free hand digs into the plastic bag he’d discarded at his side and pulls out a white box. Fiddling with it for a short period, he manages to open it at last and slips out a bandaid. He rips that open a lot quicker, using his teeth, and slips it over your open wound perfectly, thumb and pointer finger smoothing it around the curve of your heel.

“D’ya see now why I told you to not wear those things?” You feel like a child at his words, reprimanded like you once were for touching your mother’s curling iron. “And why I said we should take the cable car?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you refuse to meet his eyes. But he just won’t let you be, craning his own neck to infiltrate the space you stare off into. There’s a pleased look on his face, smugness pulling at the right corner of his mouth. Alarmingly, you think of how it’s the closest you’ve gotten to seeing him smile.

You continue your pursuit of silence, repeating a mantra of how you don’t care that he’d tried to look out for your comfort, or how he’d then tried to save you the effort of an uphill battle, or how his hand, big and warm and rough at the fingertips, is still holding your foot in place, absentmindedly rubbing your ankle in a circular motion.

“Look at ya, gone all quiet on me,” that corner of his lip curls higher. You register the rustling of the bag, his hand digging back inside it. “Ain’t one for bein’ put in your place, are you?”

Out comes his hand once more, though this time it’s not a box of bandaids. Now, resting firm in his grasp, sits a mixture of navy blue dyed cotton, stitched atop a flat, thick layer of a straw-like material. A slip-on canvas shoe. Joel doesn’t await permission, nor does he even ask for it. He simply takes charge, slipping it onto your foot, mindful as he straightens out the back to lay against your heel.

“Other foot, up.”

Switching feet, you stumble as your weight completely shifts onto your injured side. Your hands, reaching out to stabilise your swaying body, are quickly directed by his own to rest atop his head, curls of brown threading between your fingers. You contemplate asking what products he uses to achieve locks so smooth and shiny, then rethink it as soon as you imagine his reply of a disinterested grunt and a snarky ain’t use anythin’ but dirt water and a splash o’ whiskey.

“How’s it feel?”

Soft, you almost reply, then realise he’s asking about the shoe.

With a wiggle of your toes, you tell him it’s fine, and leave it at that. He doesn’t need to know they’re surprisingly comfortable.

Joel rises with a bit of a struggle, yet refuses the help you offer. Rough hands scoop up your discarded heels, tossing them into the bag, and then he straightens his back, lets out a noise of discomfort, before nodding up ahead.

“C’mon, only got a hundred or so to go. We’ll be up in no time.”

The sun sits high in the sky when you reach the city of Fira.

Crossing over that last step, 588 painted in white across it, you huff out a sigh, exhaustion aching you out of any enjoyment of your victory over the stairway from hell. Before you can even utter a word of your thirst, Joel is already reaching into his bag of wonders, unscrewing the lid off a bottle of water and passing it to you. Grateful, you take a sip, and lament the few drops that spill down your chin.

At least they don’t go to complete waste, cooling your skin ever so slightly.

It’s a shame to see Joel start moving again, moments before you’re even ready to gain back your breath, but you follow after him, nonetheless, mindful to not press your foot too hard down. Through streets he winds, past shopkeepers he walks. Eventually, after a few minutes, you ask him where you’re both heading.

“To catch a coach,” his hand moves quickly, tugging you closer as a bicycle shoots past behind you. Your own find themselves against his chest, and realise it is nothing like his hair. Solid, warm, wide. It’s almost a shame to lower them back down to your side. “Less you think you can walk from here to Oia, too.”

Truth be told, you don’t know where Oia is.

But you do know your walking for the day is over, happy to follow Joel onto the coach. You take the aisle seat, he’s by the window. Across from you both sits a couple, young and giggling into one another’s ears, as though the sounds of their joy is sacred to none but them. A pang of envy thumps your soul, and you quickly turn your face.

Only to find that Joel’s is grey.

Not the hair that lines it but, rather, his whole face, paled and blood-drained. It’s a sickly image, and one that’s quick to get your heart racing.

“Are you okay?” Any thought of keeping your composure becomes mute as you hear your own voice, a treacherous shake to it that gives your panic away. “You look…” There is no word kind enough for you to use to relay the image of him, so you lock your lips.

It takes a few seconds for you to get a reply, as your hand moves up to feel his forehead. It’s sweaty, warm, and you move to pull your hand back when he’s holding it firm in place, eyes slipping shut. “‘S cold. You’re cold,” seems to be his explanation. “I’m fine, it’s just- Carsick.”

“You get carsick, yet you work on a cruise.”

“Not the same. Ship’s big, somethin’ bout the size and my own visibility, ‘s what stops me getting seasick.”

You sit like that the rest of the coach, your hand pressed to his forehead, his eyes slipped shut.

“What’s your favourite stop on the cruise?”

As it turns out, Oia is exactly what you’d pictured Santorini to be.

White washed houses, deep blue domes for rooftops, turquoise waters, all for as far as the eye can see. Joel complains, more than tells you, of the rise in tourism over the years, of how it’s turned the beautiful village into a party-town for idiots abroad, disregarding the clean environment, shamelessly blocking paths to snap a frame-worthy shot, raising prices to the ceiling. When you ask him if he thinks he’s in part to blame, if people like him are to blame- running tours, bringing guests onto the island, earning a wage off the visiting of such a place- he grumbles out something about missing breakfast, needing lunch.

So you find a cafe. Or, more, Joel leads you to one. He greets the doorman, with a wave and a pat on the back, before sauntering his way through to a back terrace, overlooking the whole village, the water perfectly framing it. Stepping out and sitting down, the view robs the very breath out of your lungs.

It’s like sitting inside a postcard.

Joel asks if you like Greek food.

You tell him you’ve never had it.

He orders for you both, a mixture of different plates, and swears he’ll find something you’ll like.

It turns out you’re rather fond of baklava.

“Florence.” Joel’s taken his time to answer, staring at you like a deer caught in headlights. Disbelief more than fear in his eyes, you have to wonder if it’s the first time someone’s thought to ask him, in all his years as a guide. Naturally, this leads you to wondering how many years that is. “It’s a real site. Full of history, a real story to be told.” He tilts a ceramic dish your way, eyes glancing down in an offering. You follow them, and spot olives. Shake your head, no, then smile, thanks. He shrugs, more for me, and pops two into his mouth. “There’s this…” he pauses to chew. “This library.”

“A library?”

“‘S not just a library.” He slips out the olive’s pip and raises another into his mouth. You try not to think about how thick his fingers look, rolling the remaining briny green pebbles around in the pot. “There’s a cinema built inside it. Plays some classic films. I always- or, I try to go whenever we dock.”

It’s hard to picture Joel inside a cinema, something about the setting too busy, too loud to place his scowling face in. Would he be the kind to have a favourite seat, perfectly picked to optimise the sound quality? Does he speak animatedly, excited any time he recognises an actor? Or is he a shusher, the kind to roll his eyes when someone dares to even clear their throat?

A part of you wants to ask him if your tour involves a trip to this library.

Something tells you it’s not a place he likes to share, though. It’s his own little corner, safe to sneak a moment of selfish indulgence amidst a week of catering to another’s needs.

“A cinema inside a library?” A waiter interrupts you, asks if everything’s alright. Joel orders another serving of baklava. “Isn’t that a bit of an oxymoron?”

“Yeah.” For a moment, you think you see a smile creep across his lips. “Suppose it is.”

Another interruption comes in the form of your ringtone, rippling the water in your glass as your phone vibrates upon the table. You’re well aware of how Joel spots the word Mum displayed across your screen. Just like you’re aware he sees how you swipe down on your screen and switch on aeroplane mode.

Before he can ask any questions, or the sudden silence can become too deafening, you throw out another question. “And your least favourite?”

“Least favourite stop?” You nod, affirmative, and he needs no time to reply. “Here.”

“Here?! How come?”

The baklava arrives, as if on cue, and you point down at it, as though it is reason enough to be enamoured with the island. It seems to do little to convince him, his hand reaching out to push the plate closer to you, inviting you to indulge yourself.

“Compared to the other stops, Santorini’s bland.” He says it when your mouth is too occupied to protest, stuffed full with layer after layer of pastry. “Kind of like a diamond, y’know? Real pretty to look at, empties your wallet, and, at the end of the day, ain’t much you can do with it.”

“People propose with diamonds.” You point out, and cough as a flake of pastry hits the back of your throat.

Joel’s already passing you your glass of water before you even think to reach for it.

“People propose with rings. Diamonds are just custom, not a guarantee.”

Sunset arrives with no warning, a hue of fiery orange melting down into the calm waters on the horizon. It’s Joel who makes the call to head back, one glance at his watch enough to tell you the last chance to catch a coach is nigh. It’s only as you go to call for the bill that he tells you it’s covered and you realise his earlier trip to the bathroom had been a ruse to go pay.

The trip back is calmer, quieter, with the coach full of sunkissed and heat exhausted tourists.

Again, you take the aisle seat, and Joel, the window.

Keeping an eye on him is easy, switching your gaze towards the approaching darkness of the night sky calling upon the street lights anytime he meets your eyes. When you notice the increase in breaths and the paling of his skin, you wordlessly unscrew the cap off a bottle and slot it into his hand, inviting him to finish off the last sips of your water.

Skipping out on a trip down memory stairway, you quietly follow him into the cable car and, when you reach the Old Port, you try your best to block out his smug remark of how easy and fast the ride was. A feat which becomes easier as you stumble halfway up the dock and turn back.

Like hours before, as you first stepped off the tender, your mouth falls agape. Only, this time, wider. The view of the island lit up in all its glory is enough to leave you breathless, hands scrambling to fish out your phone, open the camera and-

“You gettin’ on or what?” Joel calls out from behind, and you find him waiting on board one of the tenders, hand held out towards you.

It’s a demand, more than it is an offer, to hurry up. The collective of other passengers are watching the interaction, and a feeling you’ve come to know all too well crawls its way into your veins.

A burden, holding them all up, that’s what you are.

The feeling follows you back, as you slip into a damp seat and watch as the boat carries you further and further from the island, it’s lights twinkling in a way that chokes you up, drains you out, eyes stinging from more than just the salty air. You’ll love it, I swear! The memory plays out in your head, those words gushed at you. Hands squeezing your cheeks, a smile blinding you under its brightness. Just wait till you see it at night, the lights shine over it like stars!

You blink.

A tear pools at the corner of your eye.

“Here, look,” something nudges you. It’s Joel, inching his phone into your view. Through blurred sight, you glance at it. And find yourself, centre frame, lit only by the moon. In the back lies the whole skyline of Santorini, lights reflecting down onto the waters below. “Best view you can get, the whole island in one shot.”

Afraid to hear your own voice, you smile.

He answers by pointing his phone back at you, snapping another photo.

Back on the cruise, the two of you part ways, with Joel telling you to meet him in the same bar, same time as the night before.

Dinner had been part of your plans. With a glance over the listed restaurants on board, the ache in your tired bones asks you to stay in bed and make use of the room service. You listen, order something light, easy. It arrives in under 10 minutes and your hunger is satisfied sitting out on the balcony, watching the dark waves roll past.

Phoning your mother is the next port o'call.

Unlike with your food, that takes longer than 10 minutes. Much longer, and involves you countlessly reassuring her that yes, you’re okay, and no, you don’t need her to fly out and meet you in Naples.

“I’m a big girl,” you even throw in a laugh, hoping it’ll ease the worry lines you can picture splayed over your mother’s face. “I think I can climb up a mountain without my mum’s help.”

“Honey, you know that’s not what why I’m worri-”

“Did you know you can get carsick but, at the same time, not seasick?”

You hang up shortly after, with a promise to try your best to answer when she calls tomorrow, instead of hours later, when she should be fast asleep.

The time on your phone tells you there’s still forty minutes until you need to meet Joel. The image of that grandiose bathtub flashes before your eyes and, in record timing, you’re sinking into scalding waters, a complimentary bath bomb dumped in and granting you the childish gift of bubbles.

You try to relax, at first.

There’s no need to wet your hair, so you indulge yourself. Lay your head back, close your eyes. Feel your muscles loosen with the warmth, ignore the sting of soap in your blistering heel. Your hands struggle to find a resting place, until they meet your thighs. They sit still, for a moment or two, before one slips down, inching into the crease of where your legs meet.

Something stirs in your core, comes alive as you think of how long it’s been since you last felt someone. A few months, it has to be. A fellow graduate, if you remember correctly, that stupid robe still on his shoulders as he let his mouth come down on you.

Your hand is soon on your core, before you really notice, mind on a mission to recall the hazy encounter. When you think of his tongue, messy yet eager, your finger’s already on your clit, pressing against it with a tease of pleasure. When you think of his cock, uncut and thicker than your ex, splitting you open on his bedroom floor, your hips cant up against yourself, chasing friction. When you rewind how soft Joel’s hair had been between your fingers, your free hand grips one of your breasts, fingers pinching at your nipple.

Your eyes snap open.

Joel’s hair.

Joel.

Something you should not be thinking of right now, hand buried between your thighs.

You wait a few seconds, remind yourself of the graduate’s face.

His blue eyes, your fingers roll over your nipple.

His blonde hair, your legs spread wider.

Joel’s solid chest, your fingers dip inside your cunt.

Your breath is shaky, Joel’s annoyed groan echoes.

The shame of it, of thinking of him, is almost as tantalising as touching yourself, fucking your own hole full with as much of your fingers the angle will allow. It’s a one time thing, you justify. You just need to get it out your system. One and done, cum and done. No more of Joel Miller between your thighs, this is the closest he’ll get.

Someone knocks at your door.

You nearly miss it over the sound of your breathing, the pounding of your heart.

“Who is it?” You don’t like how weak you sound, but it’s too late to take it back now.

Another knock.

“Can I come in?”

A hand still between your thighs, orgasm titering on the edge, body fully submerged in lukewarm water. “No!”

“Ain’t safe to leave your door unlocked. Anybody could walk in- Jesus!”

You’ve never screamed louder.

Joel takes up most of the bathroom doorway, same clothes save for the shirt that’s got two buttons undone and the sleeves rolled halfway up his arms. You’re pressed right back into the bathtub, as physically far from him as you can get, knees pressed up to your chest, ankles crossed over.

In Joel’s defence, he’s quick to turn away, presenting you with a view of his back. A hand runs through his hair.

“Why are you in my room?!” You inch even further back, the water suddenly dropping several degrees.

“I asked to come in!”

“And I told you not to!”

“Well obviously I didn’t hear that!”

“Why are you in my room?” You’re back to your first question, eyeing up your towel.

It’s across the room, on the bathroom sink. No way for you to reach it without the risk of him seeing you reflected on something.

“You were late. Came to check if ya tripped on them heels and broke your neck.”

“I,” you’re not sure what time it is with your phone sitting by the bed, charging. That's now five times you've been late in adulthood. “Didn’t realise the time. I can meet you at the bar in ten minutes.”

He nods, and you watch him take a step, then immediately pause. “You know, I’ve heard a few things from passengers…” You may not see his face, but you swear there’s that half-smirk, smug look upon it. It’s practically dripping off his words. “The shower head, fourth setting. Seems to get the job done for most ladies on board.”

Grabbing the closest thing in reach- a bar of soap- you launch it and watch it bounce off his irritatingly wide shoulders. “Get OUT!”

You make it to the Tipsy Byson in 15 minutes.

Dressed more appropriately than the night before, your flared jeans and crop top garner less stares. It’s just as busy, if not busier, yet it’s not hard to spot Joel on a barstool, nursing a glass of something syrupy looking. Behind the bar is Luke, head thrown back at something Joel says.

They’re an interesting pair to observe, you realise as you make your way over. With Luke, so tall, so lanky, so bright-face, his energy warm and inviting, and Joel so- well, Joel.

“There she is,” Luke cheers, a little too loudly, calling attention to you as you slip into the stool next to Joel. “My new favourite customer.”

“Thought I was your favourite,” Joel’s yet to look at you, and it’s a relief. He’s looked at you enough for one day, one week, one lifetime.

“Sorry but she smells better than you, Joel,” the barman winks at you, a cheeky grin on his face. “ Plus, she’s a hell of a lot nicer to look at.”

Joel scoffs, you giggle.

“Not sure about the whole smelling better thing,” your response comes minutes later, after Luke’s already served you a glass of wine and turned away your cash, telling you he’ll put it on Joel’s tab. “But thanks!”

Unprompted and uninvited, Luke bends over the bar and takes an exaggerated sniff. “I don’t know, smell alright to me.”

“Really? I’m not even wearing perfume, I forgot to pack any-.”

“Yeah! Go on Joel, give her a whiff, tell her she smells fine!” There’s resistance on his end, but Luke’s adamant, hand clamped on the back of Joel’s head, shoving him face first into your neck. Joel’s nose brushes against you. You hear him inhale. Exhale. Inhale again, then the urge to cross your thighs begins to nag at you. “Well?”

“Yeah, smells nice- Fine. Ya smell fine.”

“Be still my beating heart! Someone alert the press that Texas said something other than-”

Joel interrupts Luke’s dramatics, scowl on his face. “Don’t you have a job to be doin’?”

Only once the bartender is down the other end of the bar, engrossed in a heated discussion over what beer pulls a better head, does Joel speak again, sipping on his drink. Whiskey.

“So I noticed somethin’, when I was checking your bookin’ info.” You nod, urge him to continue, and take a sip of your own drink. Some country song plays over the speakers and you notice a sudden shake in Joel’s knee, his foot tapping to the beat. “Says there should be two of you in my guide team.”

“Oh,” the lump forming in your throat falls safely back into the pit of your stomach as you take another drink of wine. “Must be a printing error. You know how technology can be, always complicating things.”

“Hmm,” it’s easy to write off the awkward energy between you with the excuse of earlier events, and it’s the first bright-side you find to him walking in on your intimate bath. “Well, you know the drill for tomorrow. 7 am on that deck or I’m-”

“Docking without me, I know.”

You finish your drink first. When Joel orders himself another glass, you smile politely and turn it down. Yawn, then tell him you best head to bed.

Before you can slip out the entry, someone calls your last name. Loud enough to turn more than just your own head.

It’s Joel, approaching you, effortlessly parting crowds through the lively bar as though he is knife and, the people, butter. The loud music seems to ring louder in your ear, impeding you from hearing the words that leave his moving lips.

“What?” You call out, hands clasped over your mouth in an attempt to amplify the volume of your voice.

His response is to step closer, hands holding you in place by the waist as he leans down. A hot breath on your neck, the smell of whiskey on his breath, the soft brush of lips against your ear.

“It’s your turn to bring the coffees.”

series taglist. @auteurdelabre

[iateyourparents]

can you do one like the medium but for sam? 🙊

medium | s.g.

pairing: sam golbach x fem!medium!reader

summary: you’re a guest in sam and colby’s video.

warnings: place they are exploring is made up by me, mentions of death, physical hurt, use of y/n, bad writing and grammar(i’m sorry but english isn’t my first language), wasn’t proofread

an: thank you! i wrote it kinda differently than colby’s one but i hope you like it <33 here’s colby’s version of medium.

pictures are from pinterest:)

“What’s up guys! It’s Sam and Colby!” Colby started the video.

You stood next to them waiting for them to announce your presence.

“Today we are exploring haunted hospital. But it’s not just a hospital.” Sam said “It has graveyard in the backyard. People laying there were murdered by doctors and nurses here and then they were buried behind the hospital by cleaners to get rid of the bodies.”

“Exactly.” Colby nodded „We will tell you more about the history of this place in a moment but now let’s welcome on our channel ours today’s guest! Y/n, Sam’s girlfriend, will be exploring with us!”

You smiled and waved at the camera while Sam cointinued Colby’s introduction of your person “Most of you probably don’t know but my love is a medium. So we’re positive it will give us more perspectives on this place. Baby, how do you feel about this experience?”

You were about to answer when Colby interrupted with a cheeky smirk “Good, thanks babe.”

You only laughed while Sam shook his head with a smile and again looked at you.

“I feel excited, that’s my first time in so haunted place.” you laughed “I already can tell there’s so much bad and sad vibes in this place.”

“Great, then let’s start.” Colby clapped his hands.

You all walked into the hospital where waiting for you was yours tourguide. He quicky gave you a tour and said some things about this place to the camera and the left you alone.

„Okay, so like Mike said, the graveyard is called the most active place on the hospital’s grounds. So why won’t we start there?” Sam offered.

You went to the exit into the backyard and just as you walked through the doorframe you could feel shivers running down your spine. You felt overwhelming sadness and brutality. You literally could feel emotions of spirits here but as fast as it came it was gone.

“When I walked through the doors I felt shivers all over me and I felt like I was one of those spirits. I felt their emotions. But it was quickly gone.” you said to the camera.

“You just can feel this…sadness.” Colby added “I don’t know if it’s only me but I feel like I’m being watched.”

You and Sam agreed with his words and you explained to the viewers “I’m honestly not surprised we feel like it because we are being watched. I feel so many spirits here. I can see only couple of them but I’m sure that those I can’t see are also looking at us. But honestly I don’t feel…threatened? Like, I was expecting to feel not okay, to them not being okay with us because of how they ended up here but it’s actually opposite. They are curious but don’t feel need to harass us or something.”

“That’s actually a big relief because this place is known for people getting attacked in many ways.” Sam said. „Baby, could you describe who you see?”

“Sure.” you shrugged and looked around “Most spirits I see are pretty young. But I can see some olders ones too. They all are just standing or sitting around, I think they may be in places where their bodies are.”

“That’s so sad.” Sam pouted “Imagine dying here and getting buried here without your family knowing so they couldn’t even visit you and when it all was discovered it was too late to find everybody’s relatives.”

“We should probably start investigation.” Colby stated after a moment of silence. “We will start here with the spirit box but we were thinking about doing an estes method here outside later.”

You took a rempod from Sam and placed it on the stone that was gravered with story of this grounds as a memory of all these victims of bad care system and cruel people working here.

It wasn’t long later when rem pod started going off.

“Alright, whoever touched that, thank you.” Colby said „We want you all to know we come here in peace and just to get to know more about you and what happened here. We don’t want to disrespect or harass you. We promise we won’t do anything you don’t want us to but we’re hoping some of you will communicate with us.” rem pod went off again. “Thank you.”

“I can feel that most of them actually came here after your speech.” you stated and boys smiled.

„If you want to say anything to us, just say it to this thing and it will say it to us.” Sam explained turning on the spirit box.

Not a second later box said “dead” and “doctors”.

„Doctors killed you? Unfortunately we know, that’s awful what happened.” Sam tried to hold the conversation.

Box answered “body” and “here”.

„Your bodies are here?” Colby asked and spirit box confirmed.

You were asking more questions when suddenly you could feel emotions around you changing.

„Guys, for some reason some of them are starting to get angry. I think it might be because we are reminding them of everything.” you frowned when some ghost confirmed your words using the spirit box “We are sorry for reminding you…” you couldn’t continue because you felt like something scratched your face and you hissed placing your hand on burning place.

Sam immediately frowned in worry and stood next you carefully taking your hand away from your face just to gasp.

“Holy shit, something scratched you.” Colby pointed camera at your cheek where were two red lines.

“I think they don’t want us here anymore.” Sam said and you could hear worry in his voice so you squeezed his hand to let him know you’re alright.

“Yeah, let’s go inside.” Colby offered.

You went to take rem pod off the stone when it suddenly was swept off of it and landed on the grass.

“Holy fuck, did you recorded that?” Sam asked shocked picking up the rem pod.

“Yeah, camera was pointing there so I think it was captured.” Colby said and pointed camera at himself “Holy shit guys, it’s so sick.”

You took all your things and went inside where you decided to start investigation in the waiting room.

And again you didn’t have to wait long for some signs. Just as you were about to place your equipment you all heard a serie of knocks and then footsteps.

“I hope you guys can hear it too.” Sam whispered to the camera “It’s coming from this way.” he pointed at one of the examination rooms

“We are currently in the children ward but I don’t feel any children here.” you frowned “There’s only adults. Were the wards changed?”

“No.” Colby shook his head “There’s nothing about this anywhere. It was children ward to the end.”

“That’s weird.” you sighed and a moment later you could hear a scratching noise, like a chair against the floor.

“Shit.” Sam said with camera facing old chairs next to one of the walls. What attracted his attention was fact that the chairs weren’t in places they were a minute ago.

Next moment later your attention was turned to hissing Sam who hold his side with one hand.

Colby quickly took camera from the blonde while you lifted your boyfriend’s hoodie just to see a red handprint.

“Oh my god.” you gasped and Colby zoomed camera to give viewers a better look on the red spot “It literally looks like someone slapped you. Did it felt like it?”

“No.” Sam shook his head squeezing your hand in his “I felt like something was touching my side and then it suddenly felt hot.”

Before anyone could say anything more, Colby hissed and you could see handprint starting to show on his collarbone.

“It felt just like you described it.” Colby frowned “Is there something?”

“Yeah, it looks the same as Sam’s handprint.” you stated taking camera from him to show both boys and the red spots.

Then there was a loud noise coming from the same examination room as earlier.

You went there, boys following you and when you were in the room there wasn’t anything special but then the doors closed themselves loudly behind you.

“What the hell?” you pointed camera at the closed door and Sam went to open them. They, thankfully, opened and you quickly got out.

“Okay, something is wrong.” you stated giving camera to Colby. Sam looked worried and stood next to you. “I can’t explain this but I just know that something is so not right.”

“Our equipment.” Sam pointed out suddenly. Their equipment was scattered carelessly around the floor. It wasn’t like that when you went to that room.

“It’s dead.” you said picking up the spirit box that wasn’t flashing a red light anymore. “Or broken.”

“Shit, it must drained energy from it.” Colby said.

Suddenly you felt like something pulled your hand and you thought it was Sam but when you looked behind you, Sam was good few inches away from you.

“What the hell, something just grabbed and pulled my hand.” you frowned and Sam grabbed your hand giving it a squeeze.

Then something pulled Sam’s hair and you all could feel temperature in room changing. It was freezing.

“What’s going on?” Sam asked massaging his scalp.

“Someone is angry and feel need to be violent. I think it might be a doctor because it has, like authority aura around itself.” you explained.

“There was this one doctor that died here.” Sam told you “He died because of hypothermia in the winter.”

“It would explain the temperature changing.” Colby deduced.

You heard big thud from examination room.

“It wants us there.” Sam offered and started walking that way but you stopped him grabbing his hand and shaking your head.

“We shouldn’t go there, it’s luring us there with bad intentions in mind.” you said and boys looked impressed.

“It has a lot of energy if it’s the same one who was doing sounds during our tour.” said your boyfriend.

Again, big thud, this time closer to you.

“We should get out boys.” you stated “Something bad is about to happen. And it won’t end well for any of us.”

Sam and Colby knew your intuition was almost never failing so they just started packing and Colby said to their viewers “Remember that your health is the most important while things like this and that’s why we don’t wanna risk now, especially with y/n with us.”

“You cannot follow us home or hurt us.” Sam said sternly.

You quickly got out of the hospital and you could hear constant thuds, knocking and footsteps behind you that ended just when you were safely out of the building.

“It’s mad we got away.” you informed boys. They gulped and quickly said few words to the camera as an outro and you all got into the car and drove away from the hospital.

“I think we should go back there after some time. And take more people. And do that estes method in the backyard.” Sam said holding your hand between seats.

“Yeah, that’s good idea. We should take Nate and Seth.” Colby offered.

Not longer later you were in your and Sam’s hotel room sitting on his lap.

“Your cheek is more red than before.” he pouted kissing delicately the scratches.

“It will go away in few days.” you assured.

“It might scar.” he frowned.

“It’s okay.” you knew he felt bad for taking you there “Don’t feel bad, it’s not your fault and I wanted to go there.” you reminded and he just sighed and kissed you.

“I’m glad it only ended with scratches and not something worse.” he started peppering your face with small kisses and you smiled.

“Me too.”

This time you started a kiss.

[short-black-diamond]

HI!!

please could you do a how you met each other for the blue lock characters!! more specifically for Sae, Rin barou and kaiser!! thank you <333

Hellyu!

Sure! Let's do this! Also I'll write them in a scenario because I just can't with headcannons. Also I'll do it with a female reader if that's alright with you. If not, tell me and I'll change it <333

Warnings: Sae is a perv, Rin is a blushing mess, Barou thinks you're his soulmate, Kaiser gets caught talking about you

---

Meeting them for the first time

Sae:

Who would've thought that it'd pay out to be a tourist guide in spain? You were glad that you took spain as a second language to learn in Europe, and now, here you were, leading extraordinary people around.

To be more specific, Sae's team. As you were talking to them in english and spanish, Sae felt intrigued by your presence. You weren't one of those girls who only took the job to flirt with his teammates, esecially Sendo and Oliver, who tried to get your number, but it always ended up with you roasting them.

You were talking about the sights, as you gushed about what you found out about the historical incidents and blooming eras of spain, and Sae felt his mouth turning upwards, his heart race speeding up.

He actually couldn't believe when a hot piece like you introduced yourself as the tour guide for the team, and it helped even less when it was one of the hottest days in spain, and you wore, well, reveling clothes.

He practically couldn't take his eyes off you, even less when you turned around and walked ahead of the team, or when he asked you about one of the sights, and he had to look down on you, staring (in)voluntarily at your boobs.

But enough of that, let's go to the moment you two introduced yourselves to each other:

"Hello, my name is ____ ______! I will be your tourguide for today, and if you have any questions, please raise your hands or ask away!", you exclaimed happily.

Sae looked at you for a moment before raising his hand. "Yes?"

"Are you single?", Oliver asked, instead of Sae. Sae wanted to ask just that, to be honest, but he could spare the teases from his teammates that way. Now he just had to find a way to kill Oliver who was shamelessly flirting with you, even though you made fun of him, making him shut up right away.

Sae fell for you at first glance.

...

Rin:

It was more like...an accident? You had to look after your little brother, where your mother ordered you to go shopping with him. Your little brother wanted to play tag with you at the supermarket, which obviously wasn't a good idea, and he stumbled against a pair of long legs.

"___! I told you to stay by my side!", you scolded as you helped him up, and then you looke dup to the stranger with an apologetic smile.

"Sorry love, are you hurt?", you asked Rin, and he blushed at the nickname. "N-no. I'm alright...", he stuttered, and you sighed in relief.

"That's good to hear, I'm sorry for my brother, he's just hyper-active all the time...", you grumbled as your little brother hid behind you, looking at Rin with big doe eyes.

Rin looked back at your brother, before he looked again at your pretty face. "M-my name is Rin. Rin Itoshi...!", he said, and his cheeks took on a red hue.

you had rosy cheeks as well as you wondered if he'd like to have your number. Maybe it'd be best if you asked him, because he looked like he could faint. "That's a pretty name. Rin...", you spoke, and Rin gulped.

A pretty girl like you saying his name with a smile?! And you were the first girl he approached, not the other way round! He'd boast that to his family later, expecially Sae.

"Can I have your number?", you asked suddenly as you ignored your brother putting dozens of yogurt into your shopping cart. Rin stared at him for a moment before quickly fishing out his phone and giving it to you.

'That works too...', you thought as you put in your phone number with a bashful smile and a sweet blush. "See you, love.", you said softly before you went to the colder section to put the products your brother had put in away. Your brother threw a small tantrum.

Rin looked at you and then at his phone, where your name was.

'____ . <3....that's a pretty name.'

...

Barou:

You two met in the grocery shop as well, and you were groaning at the cleaning products. Barou stood beside you, examining some dish-washing utensils.

"What...?! Where that one cif product???", you raged quietly as you looked through the visible products, sighing in frustration at the thought of said product not being on sale anymore.

"Need help?", Barou asked with a small blush. You were actually a really pretty young woman, and the footballer was delighted to see your passion for having a clean home, because he could figure as much when he sometimes saw you having a light argument with one of the workers.

"Ah, sorry for bothering you, but there's been this bottle, cif, and it was really great for helping me scrape away the food which would sometimes stick to the pan when I'm frying something."

Barou looked around, before he raised his head. "Ah.", he made, and he took it out. Your mouth stood agape. You were outraged.

"Is this the one you were looking for?", he asked as he handed you the bottle. You stared at it angrily, and Barou frowned.

"These fuckers...I've been wasting my time here when I could've just looked up!", you exclaimed angrily before looking at him with a grateful smile.

"Thanks...uh..?" "Barou Shoei. And you?"

"____ ______. I hope you'll help me picking up stuff from the higher shelves in the future as well..?"

"You can always count on me."

You two smiled at each other.

...

Kaiser:

You met Kaiser in germany, as you were goingg through München to look at some of the sights. You were mostly looking forward to eating some kebap/Döner, and you already smelled the delicious meat.

As you were standing in line, you heard Kaiser talking to Ness, which were both standing behind you.

"Dises Mädchen vor uns ist eigentlich echt süß.", Kaiser remarked. (The girl in front of us is actually pretty cute.)

"Echt? Dann frag sie doch nach ihrer Nummer, Michael!", Ness cheered. (Really? Then just ask her for her number, Michael!)

"Hm...Ich will zuerst sehen, was sie sich bestellen wird.", Kaiser mumbled. (Hm...I wanna see what she'll order first.)

These dumbasses didn't know that you were Austrian.

"Hallo! Ich hätte gerne einen Döner mit allem und auch scharf!", you ordered, and Kaiser raised his eyebrows in surprise and Ness sweated. (hello! I'd like to have a Döner with everything, spice as well!)

You turned around as the man worked on your order. "Ich bin ____." (I'm ____.)

Kaiser and Ness introduced themselves before Kaiser and you exchanged numbers.

Kaiser blushed in embarrassment when he thought back on how he and Ness were openly talking about you behind your back, literally, but it all subsided when you texted him first.

---

ahhhh your request was so much fun to write my love! I hope that what I wrote was okay with you, if not then I'll change it, okay?

Requests are still open!

Read you in the next post!

[smoooothoperator]

untouchable

16: You Belong With Me

Lando Norris x OC (Violet Sinclair)

same group friend, unrequited love, acquittances to lovers, ski trip, love triangle, life as lovers

Warnings: someone you don't like at the end ;)

a/n: hello my darlings!! This is a SMAU I wanted to do becuase I think there's no other way that narrating their trip! I'll try to make a chapter before next week because I'll go to a trip.

Oh, and a big shoutout to the beautiful @racinggirl that helped me with this chapter!!

Masterlist

Official Playlist

previous chapter | next chapter

If you want to be tagged don't forget to message me!

Every way of feedback is very welcomed

violetsinclair added to their story

pietra.pilao what??? Where????

violetsinclair Egypt🫣����

pietra.pilao omggg bring me something from there!

violetsinclair of course 😗

landonorris added to their story

carlossainz55 and Spain when??

landonorris soon! This trip was part of her Christmas gift

carlossainz55 so you finally asked her? Is it official?

landonorris a McLaren wag, yep

landonorris

liked by mclaren, maxfewtrell, egiptianmuseumcairo and 869.518 others

landonorris Day 1. History and Ancient Languages student gf= free guide on a museum🧡

tagged: egiptianmuseumcairo, violetsinclair

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egiptioanmuseumcairo can we borrow her for our tourguide?

landonorris I think you have to ask the British Museum...

user5 is he really hard launching???

f1_gossip I think he is, yep

mclaren was is good tho?

landonorris Oh yeah, 10/10, totally recommend. Violet is a good one

violetsinclair you're welcome 😌

user9 I bet she's dating him because of his money

user6 totally, it's like he is her sugar daddy lol

violetsinclair

liked by mclaren, landonorris and other 2.719 others

violetsinclair Day 1. The Egyptian Museum in Cairo. Needed water because I talked too much

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pietra.pilao how tall was that statue?

violetsinclair taller than Lando, for sure

maxfewtrell easy to be taller than him, did you see pictures of him as a kid?

landonorris you traitor

violetsinclair I went to his parents house, of course I know how short he was🤭

landonorris how dare you?😱

user2 finally a girlfriend that is not a model!!!

landonorris

liked by f1, violetsinclair, carlossainz55 and 917.926 others

landonorris Day 2&3. I made a friend and saw the pyramids

view all comments

oscarpiastri not that pose again...

landonorris oh yeah😎

user4 HAHAHA THE THIRD PIC OMG

violetsinclair

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, maxfewtrell and 1.572 others

violetsinclair Day 2&3. I still have sand in places where it shouldn't be...

view all comments

landonorris need help to wash it off?😏

violetsinclair LANDO DUDE

maxfewtrell keep it in your pants mate...

oscarpiastri you and your obsession with OnlyFans...

user1 they act like they are a married couple already ffs😒

user2 they are in love, let them be

lando.jpg

liked by f1, lnfour, daniel.jpg and 745.818 others

lando.jpg if you search the definition of simp, you'll find a picture of me looking at my beautiful girlfriend 😍🤤

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daniel.jpg you are alive! Finally!

lando.jpg I just needed a muse

daniel.jpg simp

lando.jpg and proud of it!

violetsinclair

liked by landonorris, maxfewtrell and 2.780 others

violetsinclair For more New Year's next to you, my love, my Osiris, my Ramsesses🧡

tagged: landonorris

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landonorris my love, my Isis, my Nefertari🧡

mclaren happy new year Violet!🧡

violetsinclair happy new year admin🫶🏻

f1 we can wait to meet you! Happy new year

f1_gossip happy new year!!!

landonorris

liked by carlossainz55, maxvertappen1, mclaren and 916.579 others

landonorris Happy New Year, for more years next to you, you queen🧡

view all comments

carlossainz55 Is it official??

landonorris we have been soft launching for some weeks already... So yeah🥰

maxvertappen1 No way! Finally!

user19 they are so cute 🥺

user12 sorry but no, she kinda screams golddigger vibes

user16 lol? Do you know her? I saw a week ago in London buying Christmas presents and even with Lando next to her she paid everything she bought?? Like, she freaking went to Dior and Gucci stores??

user13 True! I was the one that attender her in Gucci and she paid everything with her phone! She was really sweet and Lando and her were so cute together! He even took a picture with me and Violet took it

f1_gossip 👀

It's not fair.

It's not fair.

It's not fair.

IT'S NOT FAIR!

How dare she? How dare she do everything she's doing right now? How dare she be with that man he warned her about. He will use her, he will play with her like a toy and then throw her away like trash.

That smile on their faces… It makes him sick.

How dare he? How dare he take the only thing he ever wanted? How dare he touch her and kiss her and expose her that way? She will suffer again.

He has to fix it. He has to take him away from her, make sure he doesn't touch her again.

But how… HOW?!

He has been staring at the screen of his laptop for God knows how long, his eyes are dry because of the light of the screen and the darkness in the room. The pictures, the comments, her smile, his smile.

Another notification from that phone.

He grabbed it, reading the text, smiling at it.

Vivi💜: Guess where am I now? Egypt!

Vivi💜: Lando and I came here to spend the New Year! It's really amazing!

Vivi💜: please, just say something… I'm really worried

He smirked reading it, looking at the multiple texts she sent to her friend.

It was kinda easy getting rid of Eloise. There's nothing better than a broken brake in the car to make sure she can't stop it while driving through a frozen road on her way to her village, making her have a crash.

It was easy acting desperate when he received the call from her parents, going there and looking at that girl he happily got rid of laying lifeless on a coffin. It was so easy convincing her parents saying that Violet, her childhood friend, is no longer her friend, making sure they don't even talk to her.

But now he has someone else on his radar. He has to make sure Lando is away from her, forever. He tried to warn him, sending him some gifts, some friendly reminders. But he's too stupid to use his brain and think that he should get away from her.

Lando Norris needs to get away from her, or else he will put his hands on the matter.

taglist

@elisysd @racinggirl @ninifee1802 @kakorrhaphiphobia @landoyesrizz @lorarri @bellwhysomean @leptitlu @aphroditeisamilf @brekkers-whore @copper-boom @sideboobrry11 @alltoomaples @f1madison @elijahslover @silkenthusiasts @chonkybonky @summerslike11 @randomgirlnumber-13 @is-just-a @whentheautumnleavesfall @malynn @mycenterfold @barackosteaa @izzy-marvel @ssprayberrythings @ophcelia

[0inkcat0]

Meet Tori the Tourguide! A completely (in)human man sent to retrieve lost souls and bring them back to his employers. Once he gets enough, he'll leave one world and be dropped into another to make a new body, learn their language, and most importantly, find these lost souls. He shows them everything they wanted to see in life. Of course, he isn't that magical, he can't give them everything. But things like seeing leaves fall on an autumn day for the last time, or feeding birds. Oh yeah. And thanks to being some kind of alien akin creature, he isn't immune to many germs at all, so he's extremely cautious of getting sick.

[thealmightyemprex]

Universal Monsters Watch Through thoughts 6

So my watch through of Universal Monster films ends....On a whimper.This was the hardest batch to get thorugh cause the films were kind of meh and I was a little burnt out

26.Abott and Costello Meets the Invisble Man (1951)

So I always heard this was the funniest of the Abott and Costello Monster trilogy ,and while I personally prefer Meet Frankenstein...This was pretty fun .Arthur Franz is decent as an invisble boxer accused for murder,William Frawley has a fun role as a cop ,and the wronged man plot works here.The highlight of the film is the boxing match where the Invisible Man helps Lou pretend to be a boxer.My big complaints are....I dont like Bud here,hes too mean and conniving ,and honestly the comedic premise of Lou getting scared and Bud not beliving him wears thin for me

27.Creature From the Black Lagoon (1954)

So this is really the last film of the big ones,the last Universal monster introduced ,and owing less to the gothic feel of most of the other monsters ,we are firmly in the era of 1950's monster movies .Aside from Frankenstein,The Creature or Gill Man is the monster I have the most nostalgia for,for two reasons :First is when I was very young I actually went to Wakulla Springs for a fieldtrip ,where they filmed the underwater scenes from the movie (And got scared by a tourguide who implied the Creature might be real ).Second is when I was 12 I went with my Moms side of the family to Universal Studios Florida ,and spotted in the gift shop a bunch of Universal Monster DVD's ,but my mom said I could only get two ,so I got the FRankenstein set(Cause Frankenstein was already a favorite) and the Creature from the Black Lagoon set (Due to the Wakulla Springs trip which got me curious to see the movie )....Also due to getting those sets we got a few free tickets for Mummy 3 Tomb of the Dragon Emperor so that was fun .Anyway I watched Creature many times as a kid .....But while I have nostalgia for the film and love the Gill Man ....Every time I try to watch this film as an adult....I just feel it lacks something.The plot kind of meanders ,while the actors are great (Especially Julie Adams as the leading lady and Richard Dennings as the villain )I find the characters stiff and the ending is a big anticlimax .Not even mentioning the fact the Creatures theme is kind of annoying with how much it is used ....That said I do think this IS a good movie ,with excellent underwater cinematagorphy,the cast is exccellent as I said,the scene where Adams character and the Creature swim together is like an iconic movie moment,.....And the Creature himself is pretty great ,with an excellent design and being a monster I feel for .Also props to his two performers,Ricou Browning (For underwater scenes) and Ben Chapman (For the on land scenes ).Also one cannot deny the legacy of the film and influence it had,especially on filmmakers like Stephen Spielberg and Guillermo Del Toro

28.Revenge of The Creature(1955)

I mean...Its alright .I like the premise of the Gill Man being put on exhibit in Marineland in Florida (Also as a Floridian I am so delighted how much Florida has to play in the Universal Monsters verse,also being the setting forAbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein ) ,I feel true sympathy for the Gill Man who is being prodded and detained by scientists and its a pretty well made film.....My problem is I am rooting soley for the Gill Man as I dont give a damn about John Agar or any of the human characters .Also dont like the big ping pong eyes of the creature in this film.Though the film is fun to watch to spot a young Clint Eastwood .Not a bad film,decent sequel but not one of my faves

29.Abott and Costello Meet the Mummy (1955)

Tired.Thats the word to describe this film,tired .This was the comedy duos last film for Universal and it just feels routine ....But also over stuffed,with Bud and Lou having to deal with multiple factions of characters and the Mummy is barely in it .There is one funny bit where Bud and Lou keep switching a cursed amulet ,got some laughs and its better then most of the mummy flicks but I didnt have a fun time with it .Not even Michael Ansara could save this

30.Creature Walks Among Us(1956)

And at last we get to the final film in the Universal Monster cycle.....And while not a complete dud ,its pretty boring.Aside from the villain being a jealous husband the human characters might as well be carboard and not a lot happens.IT does have a cool premise though with the Gill Man getting burnt and surgically becoming more humanoid....And it solidifies the Gill Man as one of the most tragic of the monsters and the one with the most complete story.Will say while I dont like the movie .....The ending is great and a fitting capstone to this watch through

Final thoughts:This watch through was fun ,there were some duds (Mostly the Mummy movies ) ,but it soldified my love of these monsters ,actors and characters.Might do one more post about my overall thoughts but till then here is all 30 films ranked

The 30 Universal Monster films rankes

30.The Mummys Tomb

29.Werewolf of London

28.Invisble Agent

27.She Wolf of London

26.Mummys Hand

25.Mummys Curse

24.Abbott and Costello Meet the Mummy

23.Creature Walks Among Us

22.Son of Dracula

21.House of Dracula

20.Invisible Woman

19.Ghost of Frankenstein

18.House of Frankenstein

17.Revenge of the Creature

16.Mummy

15:Mummys Ghost

14.The Invisible Mans Revenge

13.Abbott and Costello Meet The Invisible Man

12.Dracula's Daughter

11.Frankenstein Meets the Wolfman

10.Creature from the Black Lagoon

9.Dracula

8.Invisible Man Returns

7.Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein

6.Invisble Man

5..Son of Frankenstein

4.Phantom of the Opera

3.Wolf Man

2.Frankenstein

1.Bride of Frankenstein

@ariel-seagull-wings @piterelizabethdevries @countesspetofi

@themousefromfantasyland @the-blue-fairie @theancientvaleofsoulmaking

@princesssarisa @amalthea9 @barbossas-wench

[ratatatastic]

i hope we find out what the other cats did for day 1 of finland and its like an anime filler episode and its just [cute romantic music as we see 1619 feed each other sweets in the nice comfort of a food market] [jumpcut to forsy and bobby going insane in the gym while ekkys dying in the background because he decided it was good idea to stick around to see if forsy wanted to do something together after he was done but instead gets saddled with a spartan training camp he did not ask for nor want to be a part of and yet] [jumpcut to swaggy and benny getting lost in the city after 3 simple left turns because swaggys sense of direction is dogshit and benny wanted to keep an eye on him but he also in doing so wasnt paying attention and now theyre BOTH lost and have to spend the rest of the episode trying to find the hotel] [jumpcut to lundy going up to luosty after their presser to see if he wants to branch off alone- and suddenly he remembers hes actually the team tourguide because he sees jesper and adam off to the side and feels guilty so instead of a rendezvous he somehow ropes himself into a casual tourguide despite the fact its not the official tour day. in essence lundy is absolute chickenshit. luosty knows this and announces that if anyone else wants to join theyre welcome too. lundy blanches more when aj patty mackie uvis and spencer join too. oh god. luosty is cackling.] [jumpcut back to 1619 being disgustingly gross and in love] [wheres mikksy? idk man he got off the plan did stretches and then walked into the forest. we have not seen him since it is 3 in the afternoon. i dont think we'll ever see him again.] [jumpcut to kuli and gadjo who are celebrating kulis bday because it is his bday and they just chuckle to each other as they walk the city, going windowshopping and pointedly DONT get lost] [jumpcut back to swaggy and benny still lost. comically they are on the opposite side of the street from kuli and gadjo and everyone does not realise it as they pass each other.] [jumpcut to reino whos just quietly strolling, humming to himself enjoying the time alone. all the parks all the sights. maybe stops at a shop for a warm drink. hes greatly enjoying himself.] [jumpcut back to the spartan camp. they are still going. ekky is on the floor dying. please save him he just wanted to go on a date with forsy.] [roddy is suspiciously missing. and so is mikksy. eh im sure theyre fine.] [back to the 1619 date they are now making obnoxious kissing noises at each other] [back to bennyswaggy. they do not find the hotel. it is dark. please send help.] [nate joined the impromptu tour lundy is holding. he adds funny commentary that lundy is thankful for but also PLEASE HE JUST WANTED TO BE LUOSTY PLEASE. luosty is eating it up. he does pay his cheek in sympathy after it though.]

its finally dark everyones back at the hotel both excited and relieved the day is over. oh mikksy is finally back hey bud havent seen you in- [erod magically appears behind him and bumps into his back looking dishevelled. mikksy ears are blazing red.] ah. i see. well. as long as you guys made your way back. speaking of which wheres swaggy and benny- you know what dont ask questions you dont want answers to.

[moonlightreal]

Midnight in Salem

HerInteractive was churning out games three a year, and then… they weren’t. I don’t know the details but it probably had something to do with the Mysterious Benefactor no longer benefacting. The next game was going to be Midnight in Salem, and it didn’t appear and didn’t appear and the fandom assumed they’d solved their last puzzle.

The it did appear.

And it was disappointing.

That’s what I knew already but come on, Nancy Drew and witches, of course I was going to play it.

It was indeed disappointing, but not nearly as much as I’d feared. My verdict is that the game is fun but true blue Nancy Drew fans will have moments that just kinda make them twitch because the writers just did not quite get what they were supposed to be going for.

The worst twitch is Nancy herself. She has a new voice, with Lani Minella having retired from the role so she doesn’t sound right. And the writers don’t quite “get” Nancy. Or I guess you could say they’re trying to let her grow as a character, from a teenager who kind of chuckles about mysteries finding her wherever she goes and being “a bit of an amateur detective” to a young woman who is thinking about going into business with the Hardys as an official detective. At the end of the game Nancy makes a quip about wanting to ride a broom because it would be good for “getting an overview of crime scenes” and I just feel like the old Nancy doesn’t think in terms of crime scenes. Our girl has taken a step towards CSI and away from, well, Nancy Drew. A really small step, but enough to be jarring.

Oh, and there’s also a mild subplot where Ned is somewhere else in company with another girl who playfully steals his phone, and he’s concerned that Nancy is hanging out with Frank Hardy. It’s only a few phone calls, doesn’t take up much of the game, but again it’s a jarring change and it kinda makes me clutch my pearls and go, “The real Ned and Nancy would never!”

But Nancy also sounds more… human? Than Lani’s Nancy. She has longer conversations and comforts other characters who are scared. She freaks out when she sees the ghost—she still doesn’t believe in the supernatural, Nancy’s a confirmed skeptic, but in the moment she believes and is really freaked out. Which is how a real skeptic would react, I think. So if the idea is to make Nancy grow as a character, it’s not all bad.

(I, a confirmed magical being, love how Nancy is a confirmed skeptic and there’s always a rational explanation.)

The plot of Midnight in Salem went through some rewrites, so I’ve heard. Apparently the original was more concerned with the witch trials and some of the characters had the same names as historical figures. Knowing that you can kind of see it, there is a lot of witch history in the game but it sort of feels like there was more, more plot threads that were snipped along the way. The story that came out the end of the focus group was about arson at a historical house, a stolen book written by a judge apologizing for, y’know, sending innocent women to their deaths, a witchy tourguide, a girl with strong intuition, and a ghost. The spooky stuff is everywhere but the mystical minigamnes were a bit disappointing. There is a minigame where you make herbal remedies and that’s great but there was room for more ingredient gathering and potion making. You get to do some ghost hunting with a ghost-o-meter but Joe Hardy’s one homemade gizmo is kinda pathetic to everyone who’s played a Darkling Room game. Joe, props for trying but you gotta level up!

The puzzles and minigames are actually good. They’re on par with the puzzles in the rest of the series except for one aspect: their rarity. Midnight in Salem has like half as many wildly unrealistic puzzles as any other Nancy Drew game. Lauren didn’t ask us to help put her teas on the shelf except teas in blue tins have to be next to teas in green tins but teas in purple tins must be on the end of the shelf. Olivia didn’t make us identify crystals in her shop. Teegan didn’t ask us to arrange even one museum display! When we check out the water system we don’t have to reconnect the pipes to find the thing that’s hidden there. The careless judge hasn’t locked the evidence in a safe and forgotten how the unique lock works. Mei didn’t make us beat her at a phone game before she’ll talk to us. How is this even a Nancy Drew game?!

Come on HerInteractive, you gotta up the “Why does Nancy have to do this it makes no sense!” factor. We are not here for remotely realistic. We are here for puzzles.

All that said, I quite enjoyed Midnight in Salem. It’s not a good Nancy Drew game, it’s a fumbling attempt at a Nancy Drew game by people who were trying but didn’t quite get it, and it could have been a better game than it is. But approached with that expectation, accepting that you’ll twitch from time to time, it’s a good game!

And things are looking up for the series! Mystery of the Seven Keys just came out and it’ll be a while before I play it, but I know that HerInteractive did a stellar job of teasing the game through puzzles on the website, bringing the whole fandom together to find clues and solve them to learn hints about the game’s plot. That doesn’t promise a good game, but it’s a really good sign.

[keanureevesisbae]

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 03. kiss in the rain

Spencer Reid x Elodie Price (asian/pacific islander/moluccan OFC)

Summary: Elodie's birthday is coming up!

Serie warnings: Mention of murder, blood. Mention of rape (not described). Eventual smut.

Chapter warnings: Mention of nightmares, of Rowan Rancher.

Word count: 1.8k

Masterlist // Beyond Words Masterlist

When I fall in love, it will be forever - Jane Austen

■□■□■□■□■□■

Her

I made the mistake of suggesting an audio tourguide when we stepped foot into this museum. We as in Spencer and I. After exchanging phone numbers and that call before I fell asleep, we’ve been consistently calling. Even when he has a case. He puts his phone in his front pocket and starts rambling, even when he’s talking to others. And ever since we do that, ever since his voice is the last one I hear before I fall asleep, I don’t have nightmares. 

Because I don’t have an eidetic memory like he does, I barely remember a word he said when we were in the museum, looking at different paintings. All I remember was the smile on my face, was the lingering of my eyes on his tall and lanky physique and how he’s so passionate about anything really, expressively talking with his hands. 

The two of us are now sitting at the cafe close to the museum. Him with an americano (and not only poured his own sugar packet in it, but also mine), me with a cappuccino.

‘Why do you have tattoos?’ Spencer asks.

I stare at the dots on my hand. I wonder if he knows how many tattoos I’m hiding underneath my clothes. I’ve got a lot of them. On my arms, my legs, my back, underneath my breasts. 

‘My father hated them,’ I say, ‘so when I was eighteen, the first thing I did was scheduling a tattoo appointment, so I could get inked. Whenever dad—‘ I realize quickly I’m outside. Talking about Rowan Rancher as my father could possibly fall onto the wrong ears. ‘Whenever he dated a woman prior to you know, he always checked whether or not she had tattoos.’

‘If she did, was it worse?’

I nod. ‘If she did, they found her. If she didn’t, I helped them find her.’

Spencer takes a sip of his coffee. With zero tact—and I absolutely think it’s adorable—he says: ‘Your birthday is in three days.’

‘True.’

‘What is the perfect way for you to spend your birthday?’

‘Honestly, I just want to browse for hours on end at Barnes and Nobles, no rush, just me and books. That’s all.’

‘Do you have anything to do in three days?’ Spencer asks. ‘I could take you to Barnes and Nobles. I find it soothing to spend my time around books too. Besides, I have to buy this newest book about quantum physics and corpus linguistics and hopefully I can find it there.’

I offer him a smile. ‘Do you want to spend your day with me, Spencer?’ I ask. 

‘It’s your birthday,’ he states. ‘I…’ I watch how he fidgets with his hands, tension in each of his fingers. ‘I know how it is to spend your birthdays alone. I don’t want you to spend it alone.’

Thank the stars for russet brown skin, because I would’ve been a blushing mess if I favored my father with his paler skin and blue eyes. I run my fingers through my black hair and say: ‘I’d like to spend my birthday with you. Especially in Barnes and Nobles.’

■□■□■□■□■□■

Them

‘Reid,’ Garcia says, almost dragging Spencer out of his thoughts and concentration. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I’m trying to create an understandable map of the local Barnes and Nobles.’

‘For yourself?’ Prentiss asks, rolling her desk chair over to Spencer’s desk. ‘I thought you had an eidetic memory and know your way around.’

‘I do have an eidetic memory,’ he states, ‘however I am taking Elodie to Barnes and Nobles for her birthday and because she has never been there before, I want to make sure the experience isn’t too overwhelming for her.’

‘Elodie?’ Prentiss asks, her eyes widening in intrigue. ‘As in Elodie Price?’

‘Yes.’

Morgan joins them and says: ‘Pretty boy has taken a liking in Elodie. They call every night before she goes to sleep.’

‘Usually we call at nine o’clock and ninety five percent of the time, she’s asleep at nine forty five,’ Spencer says, thinking back about the times where he doesn’t hear her hums, but instead hears soft snores. He goes back to creating the map again and Garcia ruffles his hairs.

‘You’re so sweet when you’re in love with someone,’ she says. ‘Elodie sure is a lucky girl.’

‘Why do you like her so much?’ Prentiss asks curiously.

‘She’s intriguing,’ Spencer answers, continuing using the ruler to draw a straight line. ‘You know that whenever she talks, I feel like I never want to press pause. I just want to absorb every syllable.’  He looks up with a smile—a very telling one—and whispers: ‘And whenever I look at her, I don’t want to look away.’

■□■□■□■□■□■

Her

Thankfully Spencer saved the happy birthday serenade for when he picked me up from my place, holding two cupcakes in his hands, one with a two and the other with a six. Once we’re in front of the Barnes and Nobles, he gives me a piece of paper. ‘What is it?’ I ask, folding it open. ‘A map?’

‘I created a map for you, since you told me you haven’t been to this Barnes and Nobles.’

Sometimes it’s hard not to smother this man with hugs.

The two of us make our way into the promised land, surrounded by books. Spencer follows me like a little duckling, though I think he knows better than anyone what’s the best route. Instead of berating me for taking a massive detour—it’s that massive I noticed it myself—he gives me all the precise measurements of this building. 

We stop near the romance section and I fold the map, putting it into my pocket, before I look at the spines and all the beautiful book covers. 

‘Romance novels generate over one point forty four billion dollars in revenue, making romance the highest earning genre of fiction,’ Spencer says. ‘Have you read Fifty Shades of Grey?’

I shake my head. ‘No, why would I?’

‘It’s the Best-Selling romance novel of all time,’ he answers. ‘Sold over one hundred fifty million copies, surpassing Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen with a good thirty million copies.’

‘I haven’t read Pride and Prejudice either,’ I say. ‘Though it’s a classic.’

Spencer nods. ‘Do you have a colleague degree, Elodie? Because approximately forty five percent of the romance readers have a college degree.’

It’s an odd way of conversing, sure, but I’m always curious to see what he’s gonna say next.

‘I’ve studied English in college,’ I say, ‘so yeah, I’ve got a degree.’

While Spencer provides me with tons of other facts about the building, the romance genre and certain authors, I put more and more books into my basket. Eventually we go towards his section of preferred books, with the help of the map. I watch him rhythmically pointing towards the bookshelves, almost like a conductor in front of an orchestra. While I am going to buy seven books, he is going to buy two he came for. 

However, once we’re near the check out, he grabs my shopping basket from me and says: ‘Happy birthday, Elodie.’

It takes me a good five seconds before I catch up. ‘No,’ I say, trying to grab the basket from him. ‘No, no, no, you’re not gonna pay for my books.’

‘It’s your birthday,’ he says, ‘of course I am gonna pay for the books. That is my gift to you.’

■□■□■□■□■□■

We end up at my apartment and together we stare out of the window, watching the rain pour from the dark sky. ‘I love the rain,’ I admit.

‘Why?’ 

‘I don’t know. It gives off something cosy. Don’t you think?’ 

Spencer nods, standing behind me as he takes in the rain. I hear his fingers tapping on the phone and not long afterwards, his footsteps walk away from me. I look over my shoulder, when I see him putting on his coat, before grabbing mine. 

‘What are you doing?’ I ask. 

‘According to many romance movies and novels, the rain is considered highly romantic.’ He places my coat on my shoulders, before he tugs my hand. 

‘Spencer, what are we doing?’

‘We’re going out in the rain,’ he tells me matter of factly. ‘Considering your favorite genre is romance, I think you deserve a romantic moment on your birthday.’

His fingers laced through mine and together we walk towards the exit. The raindrops fall on my head and my skin and I let out a juvenile squeal, delighted to be outside. I spread my arms and turn my face to the sky, closing my eyes, enjoying every single second of it. 

‘Elodie.’

My eyes meet Spencer’s, before we offer each other a smile. Shit, I could look at his gorgeous face for eternity and never ever be tired of it. ‘Yes, Spencer?’

‘Have you ever kissed someone?’

I nod. ‘Yeah, when I was younger. Why?’

‘Do you want me to kiss you?’

I’ve been yearning for a true kiss from you ever since you stepped foot into my life, Spencer Reid. Yes, I want you to kiss me and once you start, I don’t want you to stop. Instead of spilling those words, I simply nod. 

Spencer’s hair is stuck to his face and with a brute gesture, he pushes the locks from his face, before his large hands cup my face. He bridges the distance between us. His lips clash on mine and while it definitely could use some work, I take him in with everything I’ve got. His lips, his scent, his touch. I cling onto his jacket, parting my lips.

‘Happy birthday, Elodie,’ he whispers against me. 

I don’t want to let go. Not yet at least. I want to savor this moment. Savor the moment of him kissing me, of me having a normal birthday for the first time since I can remember. My body curves towards his, as we kiss again. 

■□■□■□■□■□■

Them

The elevator is crowded. Rossi, Morgan, JJ and Prentiss all join Spencer in the small and confined space. ‘How was Elodie’s birthday?’ Prentiss asks.

‘It was fun, after I gave her her birthday cupcake, we went to the bookstore, had a coffee and then went back to her place. We then spend some time in the rain.’

‘The rain?’ JJ lets out a low whistle. ‘Romantic.’

‘You know what I always want to do at least once in my life?’ Prentiss asks. ‘Kiss in the rain.’ She lets out a deep sigh, while staring lovingly ahead of her.

‘Elodie and I kissed in the rain.’

Everyone in the elevator simultaneously turns around and looks at Spencer. ‘You did what?’ JJ asks.

‘So unfair, you kissed in the rain?’ Prentiss whines.

Rossi pats him on the shoulder, while Morgan starts to laugh and say: ‘I knew something was different about you, kid.’

 ■□■□■□■□■□■

Beyond Words Taglist: @raccoon-eyed-rebel // @beenthroughalot // @chickensarentcheap //

[myarmsaretoolong]

20 questions (for fanfic writers)

cheers for the tag @sarah-sandwich <3

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

57.

2. what's your total ao3 word count?

412,260

3. what fandoms do you write for?

mcu but mostly just irondad, though i stopped writing that for a bit when a small (large) marauders obsession hit so now i write both depending on the fic im working on. also taken a side step into parkner recently

4. top five fics by kudos:

A Different Future - peter snaps one-shot

Futures are Made to be Broken - more in depth follow up to peter snaps one shot

The Best Day of Harley's Life (and the worst of Peter's) - classic field trip fic only harley is like the tourguide and makes it his mission to ruin peter's day. not actually parkner but for sure the beginning of my growing love for harley

Not my First Time - part of webpril challenge one-shot, tony and peter are stuck under a building, conversation ensue

Where Do You Think You're Going - urrrmmmm good question. its a whumptober one-shot so peter must get beat up. pretty sure its by quentin beck and his drones, lets assume tony finds him and saves the day (its less than 2000 words i could read it and find out but im lazy)

5. do you respond to comments?

i do my best!

6. what is the fic your wrote with the angstiest ending?

ermmm *checks notes* Is This It? springs to mind first. you know the deleted scene of tony snapping and seeing morgan? well in this one he sees peter, only peter is a good few years older and has sorted his life out a bit. its sad obvi, but also kind of happy? the end lines are sad sad though :( so either that or 01/11/81 (if you're a marauders fan you already know that date) which basically very closely follows remus throughout the entire day after james and lily are killed etc. its very angsty all the way through, mary is a sweetheart, and at the end he's left all alone...

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

most tbh. im going to say Past, Present, Yet to Come because that's my baby. (peter is the ghost of christmas present, tony is scrooge, only its like the ryan reynolds film spirited, very good)

8. do you get hate on fics?

nope! (and please dont :) )

9. do you write smut?

nah

10. craziest crossover:

well ive only ever written one and it was mcu/glee and there's a reason i never finished it (nor am linking it [insert skull emoji])

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that ive noticed

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

nope!

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

nope! im a solitary kinda guy

14. all time favourite ship?

what a question... wolfstar is a classic, ineffable husbands are precious to me, doctor/rose is nostalgic... i can't pick favourites

15. what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

besides all of them? all of them.

no but really there are so many and i have this problem of thinking of idea -> getting excited -> writing beginning -> not knowing where to take it -> get excited by new idea -> repeat. im working on it though and do genuinely plan to finish them all

16. what are your writing strengths?

yknow i honestly think my general writing is at a pretty good level. defo room for improvement but there always it, int there? id say that's a general strength, but specifically i think im goooood at making things angsty. and i love doing it so win win

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

well... finishing anything. plotting out full stories is a big problem. (though ive recently started a notebook for random ideas for fics and its helping) um... tbh i can struggle with everything from time to time. i think getting characters voices right can be hard cos i often find people saying things they would never say and having to go back and and put them straight. er,,, action can be next to impossible if The Vision isn't there.

18. thoughts on dialogue in another language?

i dont have many. if its a language i cant read i just skim past and sometimes read an end note translation but if there's too much im just going to go with the flow

19. first fandom you wrote in?

mcu

20. favourite fic you've written?

again, Past, Present, Yet to Come is my babygirl. love him to pieces. can i say fics ive not finished yet? because parkner hunger games au and marauders doccy who are fire and one day will see the light of day (and get names)

tagging @winter-turtle @helloliriels erm ive forgotten everyone who has ever existed... @ anyone who i followed in the boopening who writes and @ anyone who just wants to (no pressure at all obvi)

[1833outboy]

what do you think are the odds of a fob spy ACTUALLY being here looking for what 8ball to do next??

honestly? high!

last week (or the week before? idk time is meaningless) someone on twitter who went to a vip show said that the tourguide showing them around said something along the lines of 'you probably already know what the 8ball is after what happened on twitter' (or words to that effect, idk i can't find the tweet). the day before this show was when a couple of people went off about post hiatus songs being played for the 8ball slot. and a lot people defended post hiatus songs. that night, fob played favourite record, the next day they played where did the party go.

if they're watching twitter, they're also watching tumblr, right? not like the fob account sm intern isn't there in the tags. i'd say they're more active over here on some days.

or it's pete wentz himself, nothing would shock me anymore.

[thelastofhyde]

i. sea-day 1.

pairing. tourguide!joel miller x fem!reader. series synopsis. on the brink of undergoing a life-altering change, you runaway from your problems in the only way any sane person can: embarking on a mediterranean cruise. there you meet joel miller, a grumpy, private tour-guide, who just so happens to be tasked with touring you through each stop on your cruise. from greek goddesses to roman ruins, you have ten days to avoid your fate. maybe a frowning, southern, sex-on-legs of a man is just what the doctor ordered. chapter summary. as the ship sets sail, you search for help. at the bar, you encounter a familiar stranger. series warnings. no use of y/n, set in 2015, no apocalypse au, cruise!au, rom-com, enemies-ish to lovers, sunshine!reader, tour-guide!joel, unspecified age gap, depictions/discussions of grief, angst, fluff, a whole load of smut, a lot of cheesy stereotypical romance tropes bc i just wanna see joel not suffer ( too much )&lt;3 chapter warnings. alcohol, mentions of class/wealth themes, implications that the reader has underlining mental health issues, convenient plot-devices that would only ever happen in a rom-com bc this is fun silly fiction baby!, joel suffers from acute insuferable-bastarditis :( word count. 3.7k hyde’s input. let's all hold hands and agree to ignore the fact both parts so far have opened on the reader panicking in a bathroom, okay? maybe she's a stressed girlie with a flare of ibs, you don't know her life. feeling a little insecure abt this chapter and lowkey don't wanna post it, but i promise the actual fun begins in chapter two, where we finally get to see tourguide!joel in action. previous chapter - next chapter - series masterlist

“What time did you say you boarded?”

Your mother’s voice travels from where your phone lays, abandoned upon the bed, all the way into the decadent bathroom.

Eyes moving a mile-a-minute, as if you're rushing to take in every jaw-dropping detail.

There’s the sink area, a double-vanity that’s centred with an array of lotions and soaps, and overlooked by an overwhelmingly large mirror that makes up half the wall, lined with a golden hue of light. A shower, with glass curtains and enough room to fit your whole wardrobe in it. Then, there’s the bathtub you’re already envisioning yourself sinking into. Marble lines the floor, and the outer wall is made up of three window panes, gifting you a view of pure blue, the sea and the sky melting into one another across the horizon. It’s making you nauseous, this looming feeling of imposter syndrome the interior brings you.

You don’t belong in this, a fancy room designed for fancy people.

An iteration of your name, back on the bed, drags you away from your own troubled reflection.

“Seven,” you call out, inching your way back into the main area of the suite.

“In the morning?!” She’s just as shocked as the first time you answered her question, fifteen minutes ago, and the second time, seven minutes ago.

Humming in approval, you give a sweeping gaze over the plush carpeted floor, the wall-mounted television displaying the cruiseship’s logo, the king sized bed that’s calling out for you, seducing you with the promise of a mattress that won’t be stabbing at your back the whole night. As if on queue, there’s a sharp pain in your lower back, a lasting reminder of the hostel you’d found little rest in last night.

“Well, there goes my jealousy!” Lacklustre replies aside, your mother continues her ramblings, used to filling the void of conversation with the sound of her own voice. “Can you imagine? Me, awake at that time? You’ll be glad you’re travelling on your own, honey.” Usually, you admire the positive spin your mother tries to bring to life. Your being alone upon this trip, however, is not a topic you want her to address, much less find the good in. “I mean, I don’t think even your sister-”

“I think they’ve made a mistake,” you cut her off, eyes zeroing in on a pair of glass doors. Snatching the phone off the bed, you turn off the speaker and press it to your ear just in time to hear your mother’s confusion, questioning what you mean. Focus on those doors, you slowly make your way over to them. “The room,” you clarify, fingers curling around a handle to unlock it, prying the doors apart. A wave of salty fresh air, hits your face as you step out onto wooden decking. You find yourself upon a balcony, facing off into the deep blue distance. To your left, there’s two sun loungers and a glass coffee table, mounted by two champagne flutes and a simple welcome note sprawled out in black ink. “I think they’ve given me the wrong room.”

It’s the next best thing to a reasonable explanation you can find, no chance on earth you were ever listed to stay in such a suite. No, a room like this is meant for a wealthy businessman and his uptight wife to overindulge themselves on gold-trimmed furniture and a fur-lined bed for a week, in which they do everything but address the lipstick stains that keep lining his collars or the chauffeur who keeps himself parked between her legs.

You can already picture such a pair now, storming over to some poor, unsuspecting deckhand, red on both their faces as they begin to berate him over the fact they're in a cabin the size of a cupboard, with a communal restroom and a bunk barely fit for one person.

“Why? Is something wrong with it?”

“No,” it’s an answer you reluctantly give, more than aware of how ridiculous it sounds. “It’s… nice. Perfect. Too perfect, like I should feel lucky to stand in it, nevermind live in it for the next few days.”

It’s with caution that you glance over each shoulder, taking note of the seemingly never ending row of balconies that line the ship, a sizable gap between each one. Guts twisting a little at the thought, you peer ever so slightly over the right edge and are greeted with views of more balconies. Beyond that, there’s only blue. Waves crash into the ship’s side and bounce off in white foam. You renew the distance between you and the ledge, unable to stop yourself from glancing both ways, confirming there’s no neighbouring balcony that finds itself occupied.

Then bend down, clasping a hold of one of the champagne flutes.

You take your first sip like it’s a crime, wearily, eyes darting back and forth, waiting to be caught in the act and dragged out of this room, down to whatever poverty loft you really belonged in.

Or, maybe they’d just toss you overboard, rid themselves of any possible hassle. People go missing all the time at sea, right? People go missing all the time on cruises. You’d just be another blip in the system, an error that can be overwritten with a simple-

“I can hear you thinking through the phone, sweetie.”

You take another sip, and let a weight fall off your chest, dragging in a breath large enough to make up for the moment or two you’d stopped breathing. “I’m just… tired. Don’t worry, I’m perfectly fine. No big freak out on it’s way, again.”

“Honey, you know how me and your father feel about you calling it a freak-” she must be able to hear your eye roll through the phone, cutting herself off before she can keep going. “Just, try and enjoy this trip, okay? Maybe you’re in that room because where you’re supposed to be. Maybe you’ve been awarded some free upgrade, like that time your dad got bumped up to business class!”

Bless her for trying, though she may fail. It’s enough to bring a smile to your face.

You swallow back what remains of the bubbled liquid.

Through the phone, you hear a door burst open and the entrance of a loud, excited little voice. Something akin to granny rings down the line, and it’s enough to have you frozen where you stand, bones rigid and unable to move. Something seems to smack into the microphone, a rustling of fabric as you envision your mother making room for little limbs on her lap.

“Hey, my little munchkin! How was soccer?” You can’t make out what the voice tells your mother, heart too busy beating louder than any drum, inching its way further up your wind pipe and threatening to choke you on it. “Guess who I’ve got on the phone?” The tiny voice squeals out your name, bile joins your heart inside your throat. Maybe this is how you find out you get seasick. “Do you wanna say hi-”

“Mum, I, uh… I’ve gotta go,” you’re eyeing the remaining glass on the table, the rising bubbles enticing you to hurry up, drink it before it goes flat. “I should go find the help desk, get this room thing sorted out.”

“Just a second, let E-”

“I’ll call you later,” you hang up.

You’re left with just the raging waters below, a caw from seagulls up above. Eyes slipping shut, you pull in a deep breath and push out a silent plea for that sting in your eyes to be from the salt in the air, not a set of unfallen tears. A few more breaths and it feels safe enough to open your eyes again, glancing down as your phone vibrates in your hand.

Two texts, each from your mother.

09:38 - She says hi, and that you better bring her back a cool souvenir. 09:39 - Doctor Anderson says she’s showing improvement and they’re finally starting to get somewhere. Just thought you’d want to know x

Giving in to temptation, you snatch up the champagne glass, bring it up to your lips and- pause, interrupted as you make eye contact with a man one balcony over. He’s older, a well-rounded gut fit into a light blue shirt and tailored trousers. With a rolex on one wrist and set of bright white teeth smiling right at you, there’s no mistaking he belongs in one of these suites.

You wonder what he thinks of you and your frayed sweater, no jewellery on your wrists.

He nods, politely, and raises his own glass towards you. A silent cheer, a recognition that you’re both here, living life in luxury. You meet it, raise your own glass, and try to smile as brightly as him.

Then knock back your second drink and saunter back inside.

“Miss, there’s been no mistake.”

In spite of it being an excuse to hang up, you stay true to your word.

Come early noon, you’re standing within the help centre. Against all odds, accidental nap and wild goose chase upon the ship deck be damned, you’ve found what you were looking for.

Or, well, an older woman with sweet smile on her face and a squinted nametag pinned to her chest found it, pointed you in the direction of the ship’s atrium. What you’re looking for is the Purser’s Office, dear.

“See? The booking under your name lists you as part of our excelsior guests.” The desk clerk turns her screen towards you, acrylic nail pointing at your booking information. Sure enough, in bold letters, your full name accompanied by a golden badge at the end. Excelsior Status, checkmarked and approved by the cruise. “This grants you access to one of our excelsior suites and all private excelsior lounges.”

In all honesty, you’re tuning her out a little.

You don’t mean to, sincerely, but you’re just so caught up in reading both your name and excelsior suite, over and over and over again, that you forget to really listen, mind running just a few seconds behind the speed of her mouth.

When you finally process what she’s saying, all you can manage is dumbstruck look on your face and a muttered, “oh.”

Paper rustles as your hands wring, the pristine pamphlet you’d been flicking through to fill the time as she’d searched up your details now rumpled, thin white cracks of paper peaking out beneath printed ink.

“I also see that you’ve added the excelsior tour package onto your booking, though I’m willing to change that for you, if you’d prefer signing onto one of our team tours instead.” Confused by her offer, you glance down and read over the pamphlet’s title- All-Aboard Tour Trips, Fun for all the Family! “Would you like to hear what your current tour package grants you?”

“If,” as if you’ve not embarrassed yourself enough with your cluelessness towards your own booking, your voice cracks under the pressure of being used, more squeak than actual intelligible words. You swallow back the lump of shame in your throat and push through. “If you don’t mind, please. This, uh- The ticket, it was a gift, so I’m just a little out of the loop of what’s been booked for me.”

“Not at all! So, the excelsior tour package gives you access to your own private tour-guide, for all seven stops we’ll be making on this cruise!” Already, you feel a little queasy at the thought. A private tour, no one but you and some stranger. It’s not exactly your dream scenario. “Your guide’s purpose won’t just be to walk you through all the memorable sites, but to curate your visits to your liking, helping you explore foreign land with a familiar taste. Where the tours in team are restricted to allocated timeslots and a set route of sites to visit, having a private tour-guide grants you the privilege of exploring where you want, for however long you want. The private tour also provides more time for you at each stop, as your timeslot to board will be the latest available, making your whole trip less of rush and more of a thrill.”

The clerk, without a doubt in your mind, is quoting a script she’s already said hundreds of time- word for word, beat for beat. Yet her voice is animated, her smile is kind, and you admire her a little for getting through it without a single laugh at the corniness of it all.

You, however, fail the challenge, glancing off to your side and biting back a giggle that you hope she takes no note of. The last thing you want is for her to mistake the laughter as directed towards her.

Weighing your options, you nervously ask, “but, you could change me over to a team tour?”

She says of course, with a smile that doesn’t waver, and the tension in your shoulders lessens, the ice cold feeling of inconveniencing her melting away at her warmth.

Her nails clack as she types away on her keyboard. A double click and then, a hiss. She’s no longer smiling, a grimace taking it place. “I’m sorry, but all of our tours are fully booked.”

“Oh. That’s- It’s okay.”

“But, I could add you to the waiting list! If there’s any cancelations for any of the stops, you’ll be the first to know. This won’t affect your excelsior tour package, so either way you’ll have some kind of guide.”

With nothing to lose, you figure why not and let her throw your name in the metaphorical hat.

Mid-typing away, eyes glued to her screen, you watch as her brows shoot up. “Oh, while I’ve got you here, there’s one more thing. With our excelsior guides, it’s customary that they meet with you on the first night, to touch base on simple things, like your interests or any goals for this trip, and to plan out tomorrow’s official first stop, which is in Santorini. Your guide has left you this, detailing where you’ve to meet him.”

With renewed hesitation, you grab at the folded note she slips over the desk. It’s small, with half an inked fingerprint burnt into the top left corner.

As you thank her for her help and bid her goodbye, she interrupts you before you can turn to leave.

“I know private tours can seem daunting but, you’re in good hands. Joel will take care of you, he’s our top-rated guide.”

The note remains folded as long as you can control your curiosity, which appears to be only until you’re back on the deck, sun shinning directly in your eyes and forcing you to squint as you read over faded blank ink.

10 pm, the Tipsy Byson bar.

Below that, in a bolder blue ink, wear something green for me to find you, JM.

You’re awfully overdressed, and painfully aware of it.

The Tipsy Byson is nestled between the arcade and the casino, a balance of childlike shrieks harmonizing over outraged yelling of men cheated out of their hands. Brown wood lines just about every inch of the place, from the walls, to the tables, to the bar. There’s an outrageously large Stars and Stripes flag hanging on the wall, and memorabilia of all things Texas Roadhouse. The place is themed, down to the cowboy hat that sits atop the bartender’s head, and clearly everyone is aware of this, decked out in scruffed up boots and worn out denim vests.

Everyone but you, dark green silk clinging to you in the shape of a laced-back midi dress, dainty black heels tucked into the footrest of the barstool you occupy.

It’s the only green thing you brought and- wear something green for me to find you- you’d had no choice.

It was a quarter to ten when you got there, earlier than you were requested, but a gentle buzz of something shooting through your nervous system left you impatient, unable to wander the ship’s halls any longer.

It was fine, you figured, gave you a chance to get a drink, cool your nerves a little. Sticking with the theme of green, you’d yelled over the line music for a midori sour, please, and even cracked a little smile at the cute bartender.

By twenty past ten, you’re still alone, no tour-guide in sight, and your glass is empty, a sole ice-cube all that remains. You order another glass, given him another smile, and return your eyes to the entryway as you sip back the taste of the dewy melon goodness.

The doors opened, your hopes rise and- a couple walks through the door, adorably dressed in matching jackets.

Another sip.

The doors open again, this time you watch as a few women walk in, party hats and bachelorette signs dripping off them.

Half your drink, gone again.

Two, three, four more times the door opens and you watch as strangers filter in and out, pretending you don’t notice the way some of their eyes linger on you, sticking out like a sore thumb.

It’s as you throw back the last sip of your cocktail, eyes catching the time- 22:36-, that you watch a grin overtake the bartender’s face.

The door shuts with a slam, buried beneath the layers of stomping feet across the dance floor and the twang of a country song, yet you hear it all the same, twisting in the stool.

A man stands by the entry, salt-and-peppered hair a little tousled and a scowl etched into his forehead. He moves like water, slipping through the cracks in the crowded bar with minimal effort. All the while, eyes seem to follow him, the occasional head turning in his direction. He spares no glances, to anyone.

Instead, he’s staring right at you.

And heading your way, frown and all.

There’s something in his face that feels familiar, and you swear that this is not the first time you’d stared into those eyes. Broad, scruffy facial hair, his irritation as some drunk girl slams into him so palpable, you almost taste it on your tongue.

You mumble something to the bartender, a request for another drink, a parched feeling stirring in your loins.

He’s inching closer, and closer, and closer- and, only as he’s a mere three bar stools away from you, do you realise who he is.

You’re in the way.

Signore Miller.

The rude man from the airport!

God, you can’t wait to see what this is about. He must recognise you, must feel the shame licking at his wounded ego, driving him to come over, apologise, beg for forgiveness to a stranger he unnecessarily berated.

“Look what the cat dragged in!” It’s not Signore Miller that speaks, nor is it you. It’s the bartender, arms crossing over his chest, smirk widening on his face. “Thought you said last season was your last!”

“You know me,” his eyes are still glued to you, an intense stare, even as he replies. There’s so little space between you now, you manage to notice the wrinkles in his flannel shirt. You choose to ignore the fact it’s green. “Ain’t no good at stayin’ away from the things I hate.”

“Wasn’t what you were saying at the staff party last year, Mr. Blubber-face. Took two whiskeys to get you crying ‘bout how you were gonna miss the cruising life.”

Another midori sour lands your way, yet you don’t even manage a single sip of it before he’s opening his mouth.

“Well look at you, all dressed up with nowhere to go,” his eyes still pierce into your own and, this time, it is you he’s talking to.

You’d have half the mind to throw your drink on him, if it weren’t for the fact you’re too busy taking a stabilizing gulp out of it, a sweetness to counter-attack his sour persona.

“Excuse me?!” You final sputter out, face burning too hot and pride too scorned to begin to feel even more out of place.

He seems unfazed by your outrage, turning away from you to acknowledge his friend behind the bar at last. “Do me a favour, Luke, don’t give her too much to drink.” Condescending tone perfectly intact, Signore Miller doubles down on your initial impression of him: an absolute asshole. “Last thing I need is to spend all day draggin’ around some prissy hungover diva.”

The man- Luke- scoffs back a laugh, shaking his head in bewilderment. “Quit teasin’ the poor girl, ‘fore she runs for the hills and ruins your five-star rating.”

An uncomfortable feeling creeps down your spine. It’s cold and alarming, and has your straightening your back, sitting a little tenser in your seat, realization rising in you like the dawn.

It can’t be.

He can’t be-

He’s stepping all in your space, face leaning down till his mouth is at the level of your ear. He doesn’t touch you, doesn’t even come close to it, yet there’s goosebumps littering your arms and hairs standing at the back of your neck.

Like touching a live wire, his proximity feels electric.

“Best be on that deck by 7 am, darlin’, or I’ll be dockin’ without ya.”

“Wait, you’re-”

“Joel, tourguide. At your service.” He’s pulled back, just to thrust his hand in your face. By the time you reach to shake it, he’s retracting it, that grating quirk in his lips moving higher up his cheek. “Oh, and do yourself a favour. Wear somethin’ a little more… practical. Santorini ain’t the place for dainty heels like those.”

You knock back the rest of your drink moments after he leaves, only to find Luke’s already placed a fourth glass at your side.

“Our little secret,” he faux-whispers, pressing a finger to his pursed lips. “Besides, you look like you could use it.”

Signore Miller.

Joel, tourguide.

Joel Miller.

He’s already making your trip unbearable, and it’s hardly begun.

+ extra hyde. sorry if that was a little boring it was a necessary part to get the ball moving, i promise chapter two gets right into it. again, updates to this fic happen every other friday! i'm bad at describing spaces, so if anyone is curious to know what reader's suite looks like, here are some reference pics:

taglist. @auteurdelabre

[snow-shelter]

TELL ME MORE ABOUT THIS AU PELASEEEEE I DONT HAVE SPECIFIC QUESTIONS IM NOTORIUS FOR BEING BAD AT THAT BUT I RLLY WANNA KNOW ABT THIS NOW RAAHHH

GIGGLES OK

FrostBite is heavily inspired by the game FrostPunk, where you run a town in a post-apocalyptic never ending blizzard.

this au is based around that.

it's naturally very dark and the very first thing you read in the first chapter is: "The cold shows no mercy. The cold does not discriminate between sinners and saints- It will take all. Consume everything in it's path, a neverending game of cat and mouse which the world continually loses. The cold will always win."

Davey, our protagonist has to learn this the hard way. The first thing after that lovely little snippet being Esther passing in his arms- But I won't get too into that.

In a last ditch attempt to run away from his deceased parents, he drags his sisters to find a new place to call home. The shack having their parents bodies and a perpetual state of agonizing fear permanently tagged to the home.

After months, David finds what he had only heard of in passing- The world.

a pre-fall location (a large, enclosed football field. those ones with the big walls? yeah) turned into a bustling town, notoriously safe and hard to get into as a resident. David, viewing this as a challenge, decides to try his luck.

Upon some strange miracle, or maybe pity from the "council", the Jacobs are reluctantly allowed inside. it was... warm... er. warmer. a thin sheet of permafrost clinging to what looked like green plastic floors.

assigned an all-too-tired 'tourguide' named morris, the reader and the Jacobs begin meeting the bizzare people of this strange town.

its insanely dark and extremely sad, and multiple do die/get severely injured as well as deep rooted c-ptsd in davey- so this will not be for the faint of heart. however, I will be posting a little tldr when I finish the whole series (I'm aimiing for 50k words in an unknown amount of chapters before I round off the fic!)

also endgame crutchie / davey + newsbiand and very very heavily implied jack / oscar (you get no context :3)

ermmmmmm.... ya!!!!! x3

[majorxmaggiexboy]

okay but also Wednesday + Moon Knight System would be beautiful

like you’ve got Wednesday walking around this museum looking completely unimpressed and Steven is as usual slightly dismayed to see someone clearly not appreciating the wonders of ancient Egypt except then when he goes Tourguide Mode to try to muster some enthusiasm, Wednesday makes some comment about the artifacts being stolen

Steven winds up chatting about the literal grave-robbing for long enough that Donna comes over to harass him about it and drag him off to Inventory (Wednesday actually spares a semi sympathetic look)

Marc finds Wednesday kinda creepy ngl like he’s really just not sure what to make of her, she just shows up in the middle of whatever weird mystery is taking place and remains flatly unperturbed by the escalating danger

Wednesday eventually finds out about Khonshu and is likewise Not Even Bothered

“You have an ancient Egyptian god only you can see. I have a disembodied sentient hand anyone can see. I fail to see the issue.” 

Marc winds up in panicked Dad(?) Mode like Steven is happily nerding out with Wednesday about Egypt (she knows her way around Embalming okay, like just has Weirdly Specific Knowledge About It) and Marc’s just trying to keep both of them (including himself) from getting shot or whatever

Wednesday, re the possibility of getting stabbed and/or shot: “I was mortally wounded once. *thoughtful expression* An interesting experience. Until I find a suitable replacement for being revived by an ancestor, I would rather not repeat it.”  (Marc: “UNTIL?? U N T I L?????”)

Jake is Wednesday’s absolute favorite