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sporkgoblin · 4 days ago

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the gang goes to buc-ee’s

here it is. the silly mess inspired by my own stops at bucees while i made the long haul drives to my rituals.

thank you @jimothybarnes for not only being my Never Been To Bucees consultant but also being the driving force behind me posting any writing publicly. what would i do without you

2.7k words. no warnings. just the sillies :) all merch described are real beaver-branded items from bucees. reeeeeally wanted to push myself with all 8 ghouls in here so i hope it’s not too all over the place <3

read below or on ao3

The deceleration after hours and miles of constant speed is what catches their attention. Most of the ghouls had been in their own world– sleeping, reading, gaming. Long daytime drives resulting in insurmountable boredom that is frequently uncommon in the nonstop lifestyle of touring. Slowed driving, a left turn followed by a right turn, and a sudden stop concluded by the loud sound of air releasing as the parking brake is set alerts them to a pause in their route. Those already awake perk up. They hadn’t been notified of any upcoming stops.

Rain pokes his head past the curtain of his bunk, looking down to the small front lounge area of the bus where Mountain, Storm, and Aurora had been sitting together– the two larger ghouls preoccupied in their own separate pastimes while Aurora, now jostled awake, had been dozing on Storm’s shoulder. He cocks an eyebrow in question to the earth ghoul, hoping he would know why they were stopping, given the close proximity to the driver. Mountain shrugs a shoulder, equally unaware of the current plans.

Bright sunlight filters into the front lounge as the door to the ghoul’s bus swings open, their Papa stepping on board.

“Alright! Break time, ghouls.” Perpetua announces down the long aisle of the bus with a clap of his hands. “We have 30 minutes, go get a snack, run around. Uh, piss or something. I hear the bathrooms are nice here.”

The tiny bathroom door pushes open into the walkway near the bunks as Dew calls out, “I just pissed.” He tries to hold the disgruntled appearance, straight-faced and hands on his hips, but it quickly melts when he catches Rain’s eye.

Dew is ecstatic to get off the bus– the chance to stretch his legs in a way that doesn’t carry him directly to a soundcheck. A break that isn’t just the few minutes between bullet points in their never ending tour schedule. He gets a bit stir crazy when they’re all cooped up and the sun is at its peak.

“Are we at fucking Buc-ee’s?” Cirrus' elation reverberates the narrow staircase at the back end of the bus as she trots down from the upper lounge with Tempest on her tail, the view from up there likely giving away their location. Perpetua’s voice comes from the front of the bus, likely an affirmative, but falls on deaf ears to the excitement rising.

Rain snorts at Cirrus’ delight and hears Phantom rousing from their bunk across from him, mumbling incoherently as they wake from a nap. Dew crosses the small distance from the bathroom to the bunks and pulls back Phantom’s curtain.

“Good morning, princess.” It’s obnoxious and annoying to the sleeping ghoul and exactly what Dew was aiming for, the thrill of getting off the bus putting him in an impish mood.

Phantom squints up at him wordlessly, unappreciative of being dragged from their nap. It’s a standoff– Dew beaming down and Phantom glaring up. Rain watches the silent interaction between the two before Phantom rolls over, turning their back to Dew with a barely decipherable and very sleepy leave me alone.

Cirrus hops off the last step and joins Dew in extracting the little quint from their bunk, with a drawn out “Come onnnn, Phantommm!” announcing her presence.

“Bug, let's go!”

“There’s so many snacks!”

“Come on, get up!”

“Don’t be lazy!”

“Phantom!”

The view of the bunk is blocked by the two menaces, but it’s clear they’re reaching a breaking point. Tag teaming the who can be most annoying game in an attempt to draw Phantom out of their cocoon of comfort.

“Really, Bug, you don’t want to miss this place.”

“Seven fucking hells, what is so special about a gas station?” Phantom finally snaps over their shoulder, voice still groggy from their deep sleep.

Both Cirrus and Dew grin down at them, all teeth, undeterred by Phantom’s microscopic outburst.

“I really don’t–” Phantom’s plea for solitude is cut short by Dew all but crawling into the bunk with them. “Hey– No– What are you doing?” They squawk out as he wraps his arms around them, beginning to tug their snug form out of the bunk. Dew has undoubtedly grown fond of Phantom since their first tour together, but even this is a bit unsettling.

“You just have to see for yourself.” Cirrus provides over Dew’s shoulder as she watches the scramble of limbs, delighted. He’s not the only one giddy with the promise of getting off the bus. “I swear it won’t disappoint.”

After further convincing and both Phantom and Dew nearly falling out of the bunk together, all eight ghouls are off the bus and trodding through the blazing hot parking lot to the oversized convenient store.

Phantom shields their eyes from the sun and peers up at the cartoonish beaver logo towering over them.

“Why?” They inquire, to no one in particular. Maybe to the person who designed this place. Maybe to whatever powers in the universe allowed it to be. They could still be sleeping. There has never been a gas station that they would forfeit a good nap for.

“Did you not stop here last tour?” Storm matches their pace, the two trailing behind Cirrus and Tempest. Cirrus gestures wildly with her hands, likely explaining the contents of the store and Tempest throws her head back in a larger than life cackle.

“No, I’ve literally never heard of this place.” Phantom looks to Storm, then to the expansive parking lot behind him where cars line up at the gas pump. There’s so many of them.

“So four of you have never experienced the wonders of Buc-ee’s.” Dew squeezes his way up between the two taller ghouls, falling in line with them. “You’re in for a treat.”

“A few, actually!” Cirrus calls over her shoulder brightly as they pass through the sliding doors, the cold air conditioning embracing the group. The fluorescent interior opens up before them and Phantom and Storm stop in their tracks within the entrance. Mountain sidesteps them, heading directly to the drink selection to grab a few options for the road. Cirrus marches on without a glance back, dragging Aurora and Tempest by the hands to the lush bathrooms that make the bus toilet feel like a bucket in a cardboard box. Dew stands between the two awestruck ghouls, smugly watching their reactions to the amusement park of gas station stores.

Rain brings up the rear, clapping a hand on each of the taller ghouls’ shoulders and bumps his knee to Dew’s ass. “You can’t just stop in the walkway.”

That seems to pull the two out of their trance, if only just a bit, as they move further into the store. Dew saunters ahead, happily taking a free sample of jalapeño honey jerky.

“What the fuck,” Phantom breathes out a laugh, taking in the pandemonium of humans buying snacks, running to the bathroom, making coffees, wearing shirts with the tacky neon beaver.

“This is…a lot.” Storm agrees, more overwhelmed than his quint counterpart. It’s not unlike stage breakdown after rituals, all the bodies rushing around focused on their specific tasks, but at least he knows what to expect there. Here, there’s a lot more unpredictability. Storm tries not to let the stress show, but some kids dart past and he flinches away instinctively.

“Hey,” Rain calls his attention softly, squeezing his shoulder. Storm meets his gaze and lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “C’mon, you’re standing in the worst area.”

The four remaining ghouls make their way to the snack section. It’s more aisles than either Storm or Phantom have seen in any convenient store before. Phantom piles up on an excessive amount of sour gummies, dropping a bag on the floor when they lean down to inspect another option. They keep pacing up and down the same aisle, somehow finding something new that catches their eye.

Rain grabs his go-to snacks– dried mango slices, dark chocolate espresso beans, and sea salted caramel beaver nuggets. Whatever the hell beaver nuggets are, he doesn't know or care. They’re tasty and that’s what matters. When he peeks over the aisles and doesn’t see Dew anywhere, he decides to grab a pouch of the jalapeño honey jerky as well. Just in case.

Not straying very far, Rain makes his way back to Storm, satisfied to see that he has his own armful of snacks for the road. Rain opens his mouth to ask what the air ghoul decided on, but is quickly cut off by his own name being called across the store. The volume would be embarrassing if not for how loud their surroundings were to begin with. The two turn towards the voice, only to see their most beloved quintessence ghoul waving them over enthusiastically.

Rain rolls his eyes with a poorly suppressed smile and looks to Storm. “We’re being summoned.”

Storm chuffs, “Again? Man, I just got here.” He bites back a smile, waiting for his freshly-summoned joke to land.

“Sathanas, both of you are horrible.” Rain groans, lighthearted, feigning his disapproval as he walks ahead of Storm. He won’t bully their new air ghoul for his bad jokes just yet. They find Phantom at the bakery with Cirrus, drooling over the sugary selection. They have a basket now and filled it up with more treats than the last time Rain saw them in the candy aisle.

“Okay– we’ll get two cherry kolaches, a cinnamon roll, a pecan pie bar, three maple bacon cookies, a regular sausage and cheese kolache, a jalapeño sausage and cheese kolache and…….What?” Pausing, she looks to Phantom as they whisper to her and gesture at the display case. “And another cinnamon roll, actually.” Cirrus rattles off the order to the poor cashier trying to keep up. She flashes them a bright smile as she caps it off with a polite please. The amount of food would be shocking if there wasn’t a bus of eight to feed.

As Cirrus is about to hand over the clergy credit card, lovingly supplied by their papa, Mountain joins them at the bakery counter. She pulls back the piece of plastic, just out of reach from the cashier.

“Oh! Mount, did you want something?” Cirrus turns her attention to the earth ghoul, needing to make sure everyone has a treat for the road. A blessing in disguise for the cashier, Mountain shakes his head and holds up a tin foil blob that reads brisket sandwich on the yellow label and pops a tater tot in his mouth with his other hand.

Nodding, she turns back to the cashier with the same megawatt smile, finally ready to conclude the order. “That’s all for us then.”

Phantom is nearly plastered to the clear acrylic separating them from the baked goods as a worker picks out the items Cirrus requested. They only see three items be packaged before Aurora appears out of the nearby gaudy clothing rack, tugging them away by the hand.

She confidently leads Phantom through various displays, like a jungle guide through dense vines, until she finds Tempest and Dew– sifting through a never ending selection of beaver branded merchandise.

Tempest turns around and greets them amidst her giggling, a breathless little “Hi!” Her cheeks look like they hurt from how much she’s smiling. At the top of her head sits a red baseball cap with the same beaver logo in the center and two fuzzy brown ears poking out the side.

“Where did you get that?” Phantom wheezes when they notice the ears. This is maybe the most excitement in the shortest period of time they’ve experienced this whole tour. Before Tempest can respond, Dew is placing an identical hat on Phantom’s head and their jaw drops in sheer delight.

“I told you this place was worth it.” Dew tells them, cradling his own armful of beaver themed items. Phantom can pick out a fleece blanket, a shot glass that looks like a wooden keg, a deck of collectible playing cards, at least one shirt….and something neon. They stare at the neon, wracking their brain for what it could be.

They’re about to ask what the last item is when Aurora reappears, shoving a plush beaver into their hands. She now has a travel pillow around her neck littered with the store’s logo and a pair of slippers tucked into the crook of her arm.

The bus is going to be a moving billboard by the time they’re done here.

“You can warm it up!” Aurora tells them, so earnest in her excitement about the soft toy. Sure enough, on the little tag it shows the plush beaver next to a microwave with directions on how to reach the perfect temperature.

“Oh, that’s perfect for you!” Tempest chimes, peering over at the little tag.

Phantom considers the toy. The quint runs notoriously cold on the bus, even when the others are perfectly comfortable. It actually wouldn’t be too bad having a little heated beaver to keep them warm at night. Tempest and Aurora grin to each other triumphantly as Phantom drops the plush into their basket of goodies. They wave the ghoulettes off, suddenly feeling shy at being known. “Okay, okay, yes, thank you.”

After their 30 minutes are up, the group reconvenes just outside the entrance to the store with their purchases in tow.

Phantom and Tempest stand in front of Mountain and Rain with their matching beaver ear hats, beaming up at them. With hands clasped behind their backs, they resemble toddlers waiting to show their parents a creation of colorful scribbles across paper. Covering his mouth, Mountain holds back the guffaw that begs to be released at how proud the two look in their hats.

“Did you–” He inhales through his nose, calming his laughter. “Did you get enough snacks, at least?”

The two ghouls before him nod, little beaver ears flopping as they do so.

Rain bites his lip, holding back his own laugh. Fondness blooms in his chest at the sight of the two having so much fun, decked out in beaver gear. Sometimes they miss out on the pack bonding time while on the road. They’re all together, yes, but infrequently do they get the time to just be together. No agenda, no costume fitting, no soundcheck, no filming, no driving. Just a moment to exist in each others’ company. Their days off are either rigidly scheduled or spent catching up on rest. The impromptu outing was a much needed reprieve from not only the long drive, but from the tour itself.

A feeling of being watched interrupts Rain’s moment of appreciation. He turns, scanning their little bubble. He catches Dew on the edge of the group, staring. Chin raised with a mischievous glint in his eye– waiting for Rain to finally look his way.

Rain narrows his eyes at the fire ghoul and holds his gaze as he walks over, unhurried. He stops close enough to tower over Dew, tipping his head down looking at him.

“What do you want?” It’s barely a question, more of an acknowledgement of Dew’s inclination for Rain’s attention at any given moment.

“Oh, nothing.” Dew puts on an innocent front, soft and sweet. Smiles up and bats his eyelashes. A drastic turn from how he was staring the water ghoul down just moments prior. Rain raises his eyebrows, waiting for Dew to provide whatever is going on in his little blonde head.

The lack of response has its desired effect and Dew pulls something neon from behind his back.

“Dew, what is–”

“I just think it’d look good on you.”

A shit-eating grin plasters itself across Dew’s face as a scanty bikini splattered in vivid pinks, purples, yellows, and the fucking beaver dangles from his hand. Rain’s jaw drops.

“Nuh-uh, you take that thing back now.” He takes a step back, bracing a hand between them to keep Dew from shoving the offensive swimwear into his hands.

“Nope! No returns!” Dew sidesteps his hand and holds the bikini up to Rain’s frame. “It’s just your size.”

“Dew,” He mumbles exasperated, tipping his head back with a sigh. He was too optimistic about their wholesome outing as a pack. Dew snickers and snakes an arm around Rain’s waist, walking them back towards the bus with the awful swimsuit in his other hand.

“We have a hotel day coming up.” Dew says casually. “You’ll just have to wear it then.”

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sporkgoblin · 12 days ago

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LOVE ME KNOTS.

teenage simon riley x reader. drabble; but pulled too long.

Simon Riley is a lanky lad. Too much bones and not enough muscles. It makes him look like a ghost, the paleness of his skin covered by loose fabrics most of the days. Read and pink dusted over the thin skin of his eyelids and cheeks.

He might have been a handsome boy, Simon boy, if he wasn't so skinny— the girls in your grade laughed. Simon was also peculiar in ways you couldn't name. Bruised some days, got into school fights quite often, broken skin and sewed up flesh.

It wasn't a surprise people used to mock him, call him names or whisper behind his back, just to catch him off guard.

But he never did, calm as the sea before the storm, Simon took his usual seat at the back of the class and remained there until the class ended.

You bit you lips, nervously as your eyes trailed at the tall figure in front of you. He's in your grade, in you classes, he's basically you classmate, but you can't help yourself to get to talk to him.

After fidgeting for a good while, tugging on your own sleeves, your voice came out airy and whispery— excuse riley? It was rude, you could sense it in the way his shoulders squared up, muscles tensing as he turns his head a little, grey eyes finding yours.

"Yes?" you had never heard him speak, at least conversed with him, so the baritone voice made your skin tingle. Blinking your eyes, you let out a squeaky we are partners in the school project.

Ans that's how you found yourself with Simon, in your room, scribbling away at his notebooks and he's surprisingly good at mathematics. This goes for a week, until the submission of the assigned project.

You still invite Simon over for study sessions which are clam and it's then you get to know what kind of a kid he is.

Awkward, sly and very sad.

Well not openly sad but sad enough to slip away few things. Which you try not to cry on.

It's one warm spring evening, the sun almost kissing the horizon when there is a knock at your door. Parents out for the weekend, you don't suspect it on anyone, perhaps no one you know would knock at your door now— but Simon's here, bleeding from his lips, the skin torn, eyes and cheek swollen.

You take a few seconds before opening the door fully and letting him in. And it's within a few more minutes you're standing between his legs tending to his wounds. You don't say much, except muttering to to turn his head to the other side.

The cut on his lips, deep enough to let the flesh hang out. You gaze meets his— it will hurt a lot, okay? you murmur, as you stitch it up. Funny how you took the nusring course for the spring break from your mum.

He dosen't hiss, but his hands rests on your waist, a little tremble in them. You don't smile, but there is something very soft in your gaze, "It's okay?" your finger brush under his eyes, over the bruise that has bloomed.

He looks at you, his forehead leaning against your stomach, slowly as you feel the pressure of his flesh on yours. He let's out a deep breath, "I'm... tired" his voice dissipates as smoke in the air, arms snaking around your waist as he pushes you further into him.

A mould, he's trying to build himself into.

You still don't smile, your own arms wrapping around his head as you press a kiss to his crown, "I know, I do."

Perhaps whatever exists between you two isn't necessarily love currently, it's close enough, it aches the same you'd reckon. But then again it's Simon we are talking about.

He raises his head, cheek pressed against your sternum, "Will it be okay?" he asks, voice breaking.

"Yeah" you eyes glisten with tears, "Good enough for us to survive" you smile, voice cracking in the end.

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