#Summer Workshop Series

[peachysunrize]

[ TANGERINE DREAMS ]

Summary: being stood up on his wedding day, Aemond’s life takes a turn for the worse. Heartbroken and humiliated, he finds unexpected help in Helaena’s childhood friend, who helps him move back into his family mansion. Summer cocktail parties and a long stay at the Targaryen residency, Aemond might let the girl who’s always been in his life make a home in his heart.

Tangerines, in general, symbolize prosperity, good luck and happiness. So if these delicious fruits appear in your dreams - whole or in the form of juice - it is usually very positive. A dream with tangerines expresses the desire and the possibility of progress and prosperity

Word count: 5.1k+

Warnings: tensionnnnnn, alcohol consumption (just wine) & fluff! English isn’t my first language <3

A/n: ‘m not gonna say anything more than just that ITS THE BEGINNING OF SOMETHING NEW!! Reblog & comments are most appreciated🍊🧡

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Chapter 3: The beginning of something new

He leans back on the chair, his book abandoned next to him on the desk as he carves a line on the wooden pallet, his glasses on the bridge of his nose, the sound of wood getting cut echoing in the old workshop.

He’s been here since early morning, all of his thoughts are consumed by you and your talk a few days ago. There’s still a part of him that is immensely guilty for how he treated you, especially after you told him about that Lannister boy. 

He is heard and understood, maybe not by someone he expected, but the sweetness and calmness in this revelation makes it more special. You’ve been in the background image of his life for so long, someone always present yet too far and out of reach. But now, you’ve turned into someone important, someone he can rely on and trust wholeheartedly. 

He sighs, letting the chisels fall from his hand on the table as he stretches his arms, groaning as he cracks his back and slowly lumps in the chair, glancing at Vhagar who does the same and slowly walks towards him, jumping on him to cuddle — the chair is so little to have them both sitting on it together, so Aemond has to hold Vhagar to his chest with a hand under her belly while she rests her head on his forearm as the other hand rubs slowly circle on her back.

Vhagar barks suddenly, jumping down to go near the door, alerting Aemond that someone is coming. He also stands up, grabs his abandoned book from the table, and walks towards Vhagar who is clawing at the door before he opens it and lets her out, locking the door workshop’s door behind him.

He follows her, watching as she bolts through the bushes and trees to reach whoever is approaching them. He hears your voice, melodically and softly when you start talking to Vhagar, giggling and letting her probably lick your face.

“Morning!” You say as soon as you spot him, strengthening your back before you stand up, holding two cups of coffee in your hands, “I couldn’t find you in the library, so I thought you’re probably taking a walk with your old lady.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “we had an early morning, and she gets restless and impatient when she doesn’t set foot outside.”

“Here’s your coffee, little nerd,” you hand him his cup, stepping closer to him until you’re only mere inches away from him, looking up at him through your lashes.

Aemond’s break is stuck in his throat as he looks down at you, he gulps when he sees you reach for his face, pushing his glasses up so he sees better. Your touch is warm against his skin, but your smile is warmer, more welcoming than anything he’s ever seen.

Get a grip, he thinks to himself as he thanks you quietly, clearing his throat before he wraps his long fingers around the hot mug. 

“Let’s take a walk, shall we?” He asks, glancing back at the workshop door quickly.

“What’s that?” You turn around and follow his gaze, pointing at the door hiding behind the trees.

“Oh, um, that…” he rubs the back of his neck nervously, “nothing, just an abandoned storeroom,” Aemond shrugs, the book in his hands falling to the ground as his palm grows clammy.

“Shit—“

“It’s okay, I’ve got it,” you crouch down to grab the book, smiling softly when you look up and find Aemond turning red with embarrassment, especially when you glance at the book in your hand, “No way.”

“Give me that, please—“ he tries to snatch it out of your hand, but you hold it behind your back, biting your lip to stop yourself from grinning, taking a sip from your coffee to hide your smile, “tell me why you are reading Maester Orwyle’s book of Philosophy!”

“To kill some time, now please—“ he sighs, gesturing to you to give him the book by his hand while the ghost of a smirk finds its way to his face, “Don’t be ridiculous and give me the book so we can both go back to the house.”

“Nope,” you take a step away from him and he matches your huge grin as he extends his hand again, “if you want it, you should come get it.”

“Come on,” Aemond groans, “I’m not the five-year-old kid who used to chase you around the house to steal one of your books!”

“I’m not saying you should chase me, but maybe say please a few more times then I’ll agree—no!” You squeal when he leans over and snatches the book out of your hands, his tall and lean frame making it impossible for you to hold it back anymore, “You’re no fun!”

“Someone has to be the adult of this friendship,” he says, securing the book under his arm as he walks ahead of you, turning around to look at you, pointing at the path in front of you with his head, “Come on.”

“Fine, fine!” You laugh, following him towards the path leading to the backyard and the Weirwood tree.

The sound of friendship left a bittersweet taste in his mouth, something he only felt when Alys would give him backhanded compliments, but he knows you, maybe even much better than he ever knew his ex-fiance, and with the talk you had a few days ago, he is left confused. Not by your actions no, but by your words; it is hard to find someone who’s had the same experience, especially with someone so understanding and willing to share them.

“Don’t sulk now, Little nerd,” you bump your shoulder to him, watching him take a long sip of his coffee, “tell me about the book, it mustn’t be the first time you’re reading it.”

“Of course not,” he sighs and continues, “he was a friend of my grandfather, no one knows what happened to their friendship after this book was written, but apparently all the answers are in this—“

“You can’t be reading this giant hard-to-swallow book just because you wanna know about your grandpa's failed friendship,” you wiggle your eyebrows at him, “come on, tell me the truth!”

“No,” he gives you a pointed look, “this is the truth.”

“Alright,” you smile at him, not wanting to pressure him if he truly doesn’t wish to explain it, walking side by side with him until the trees are behind you except the Weirwood tree that looks so beautiful under the morning sunlight.

“The coffee is perfect…” he hums in delight as he glances at you, holding the mug in one hand with his arm keeping the book rightly against his body while he puts his right hand on the small of your back, walking slowly to your right side to be able to look at you more comfortably.

“My goodness, Aemond, I’m so sorry I didn’t realize—“ you try to apologize but he cuts you off with a slow shake of his head.

“It’s okay, don’t fret about it,” he rubs circles on your waist as you walk towards the house, the sunshine casting a glow on your face, and he fights off a smile when he sees how your eyes shine, “how did you find out I like my coffee with three sugars?”

“You’re not too hard to read,” you chuckle a little leaning to his side as he keeps his palm secured on your waist, “I observe people, mostly my friends and I wanted to make sure you were alright after everything, so I kept a close eye on you. Turns out you have a horrible sweet tooth!”

“You haven’t seen the worst of it yet,” he teases you, finishing his coffee in a sip, “Hel and I used to bake together, a silly hobby she took when Viserys and Mum separated. It was only simple cakes and bread but you know me, I can’t settle for less than perfection.”

“So you started to get better and better.”

“Yeah, it turns out Hel & I would make an excellent team, many of the birthday cakes were on us,” he explains, handing you the book so you’d hold it for him so he can open the door for you when you reach the building, “if you’re lucky, you’ll get a special birthday cake from me one day.”

“Stop being so talented—oh, fuck—“ you yell in shock when Vhagar runs past the two of you, knocking to your legs, making you lose your grip on your coffee and having it spill on Aemond’s book.

“I’m so sorry, fuck, I should have finished it first…” your voice grows quieter as you open the drenched book, reading the first page’s note, “Is this…?”

“Yeah,” he nods, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully, “it’s yours.”

“No wonder I was looking for it when I got back home after another vacation spent here,” you laugh, tracing your finger over the blue note, “I caught you reading it in your old stable. Why would you go there to read?” It was full of horseshit, yet you seemed to like it.”

“Well, it was the only place no one seemed to want to spend any time there. Best place to read the book I stole from you,” he follows you inside the building to the kitchen to leave your cups there, “besides, you’d find me and discuss the book anyway, maybe I wanted you to find me.”

“You seem to enjoy that, don’t you? Me always finding you?” You ask him after you put the book on the kitchen island, turning around to look at him.

It seems like he has caged you with his body, he is standing close, probably closer than he should but not too much to deem it inappropriate for friends, and when you look up at him, he is sure the distance between the two of you has decreased considerably — physically and mentally.

“I like the idea,” he whispers, his good eye never leaving your face as you stare at each other before he clears his throat and pulls away a bit, giving you an awkward smile, “I think Hel and others are in the TV room.”

You nod hesitantly, moving past him towards the other room, leaving him alone in the kitchen. He sighs shakily, swallowing the lump in his throat before he decides to join you after he puts his cup away.

When he enters the room he finds you leaning on the back of the coach and Helaena is curled up on your side with Dreamfyre resting her head on Hel’s calves. His brothers are playing yet another round of Mortal Kombat — which he is sure Aegon insisted on. He looks around for Vhagar, and when he can’t find her, he assumes she must be in the library, taking her morning nap.

“Morning.”

“Hey, Aemy!” Aegon greets him, “We thought you were kidnapped when you didn’t join us for breakfast.” “Fuck off, I don’t have the patience to deal with you today,” Aemond grumbles, throwing his head back, and closing his eye before he is hit by a cushion, followed by a loud snort and soft giggles from you and Helaena, “What the fuck was the for?”

“You need to have patience! This is our summer, we will be annoying you until you give up this crappy attitude and enjoy your time with us here! Who knows when we’ll gather together like this again! You live here now with Daeron and Mum, I live in Oldtown, She,” Helaena points at you, “lives in Rosby, and Aegon… well he floats around the country.”

“I have a home, you little bitch—” “Doesn’t seem like it when you constantly show up at our places,” you say, earning a loud gasp from Aegon before he pouts and rolls his eyes at you, turning around towards Daeron with a glare when he laughs at him before he says ‘I’m gonna kick your ass’ and they start playing again.

“You know what we should do this week?” Helaena asks suddenly, sitting up with glee, “Aegon should throw one of his infamous parties! That way not only our dear brother will get better and forget about everything even for a few hours, but we get to have some fucking fun!”

“I thought you didn’t like parties,” Daeron pauses the game, turning around to give his sister a pointed look. Aemond does the same, but instead, he glances at you and finds you already looking at him, giving him a tight-lipped awkward smile before the two of you look away from each other and focus on Helaena.

“I do! But that doesn’t mean I loathe them, besides, Aegon’s parties are fun, they are not like Mum’s when we have to sit in awfully formal clothes, sipping on champagne like high-class ladies.”

“I hate to break it to you, babe, but you are a high-class lady,” you say, earning a nod from everyone in the room.

“That’s not my point,” she groans, chuckling when you side-eye her, “I just wanna have fun, and Aegon is fun—” “Did you hear that, pirate?” Aegon points at Aemond, laughing when he is met with a glare from his younger brother, “She thinks I’m fun, not you, me!”

“Don’t make her change her mind,” Aemond sighs, sneering at his older brother. “Aemond is fun, mind you,” you defend him, giving Aegon a pointed look which makes Daeron laugh out loud, “You are just too chaotic to  understand him.” “And you do?” Aegon scoffs, and Aemond senses something is going to happen, that his brother can’t simply keep his large mouth shut, “his fiance didn’t find him fun—” “Jeez, Aegon!” Daeron yells, face twisted in disbelief.

“What is your fucking problem?” you ask him, scoffing at Aegon’s scared look, “You are always mean to him.” “I am not!” “Shut the fuck up I’m talking,” Aemond looks at you, surprised by your outburst, “he needs your support more than ever, his face and his life are now all over the fucking internet! Have you considered how hurt he must be? Of course, you haven’t because you don’t think. He doesn’t need to be reminded of what happened constantly when he is trying his best to move on!”

“I—” Aegon can’t say anything as he looks at you like you have grown another head.

Aemond is as equally shocked as others, he fights off a huge smile as he watches you defend him, his lips parted in surprise, jaw on the floor while you talk and put Aegon in his place.

“Morning my loves,” Alicent comes to the rescue, looking around the room to find Helaena and Aemond looking at you with a pleased smile while Aegon shrinks under your gaze and Daeron nearly falls on the floor with how hard he’s laughing, “What’s going on here?” “I thought maybe I could throw a party!” Aegon speaks, avoiding your gaze as he looks at his mum, “A month has passed from summer and I have yet to throw one of my infamous spontaneous parties!” “Alright, but you know—” “I know, I know! In the guest wing, no drugs, no strippers—” “You brought strippers to your parties?” Aemond asks, giving Aegon a disapproving look who in return only smirks and wiggles his eyebrows at him.

“Did you forget your insanely cool bachelor party? Did you think I brought random girls to give you a lap dance—” “Okay enough!” Alicent laughs awkwardly, “There are better times to discuss these matters! I have more important things to tell you.” “Like what?” Daeron asks.

“New Gossip Girls season dropped?” Aegon looks at you shrugging when you snort at his question.

“Be serious for a fucking second please,” Aemond warns his brother before he looks at Alicent softly, “What’s wrong?” “Nothing, nothing! In fact, I kind of have a surprise for all of you. Not a huge surprise but I wanted to take you somewhere,” she explains, stroking her neck in nervousness.

“Where do you wanna take us, Mum? Hopefully nowhere near Father,” Hel says, making everyone sigh in relief when Alicent shakes his head.

“No, of course not!” she scoffs as if even the idea of seeing her ex-husband disgusted her — and it did — she continued, “Do you remember when I told you I had put the winery under a reconstruction? And specifically told you to not go there?”

“No?” Daeron answers, confused as he tries to remember when Alicent told them to not go there, “I doubt you did, Mum.”

“You have a winery?” you ask, a joyful smile comes on your face when Hel nods excitedly.

“Not just a winery but a vineyard!” “Oh, wow! I had no idea!” “Well, it’s your lucky day because now it’s useable again!” Alicent matches your enthusiasm, “Also, this is not just to show you the vineyard, but…” she looks at Aemond, “It’s Aemond’s birthday too!” “It’s not,” he replies, glancing at you quickly, “It’s in a few weeks.”

“Well it doesn’t matter because I am going to throw a party for you, and for that, we need to have a winetasting session and choose a few bottles for that occasion!”

“Mum, there is no need—” “Do shut up, asshole,” Aegon teases him, “what do you mean there is no need? Those are gonna be for your birthday, and also, I don’t have to drink in secret!” “I’m afraid I agree with Aegon,” Hel says, you and Daeron nod in encouragement, and Aemond has no choice but to also agree and surrounder, but it’ll be worth it, he thinks, because the way your eyes light up at the idea of visiting their vineyard makes his heart beat faster.

“Alright then” Alicent claps, shooing you all out of the TV room, “Wear something cool, I don’t want you to get sick under this god-awful heat.”

••••••••••

You and Hel put on your sundresses and you help her apply sunscreen on the back of her neck, covering her pale skin so she won’t burn under the awfully hot sun. The weather is exceptionally warm today and you regret agreeing to go to the vineyard without cars as soon as you step outside.

Aemond and Aegon are already there, smoking together as they wait for you and Hel to reach them. Aemond sends an endearing smile your way when he spots you, taking in the sight of you; you look beautiful, with your smile and the baby blue sundress you are wearing.

“Alright, ladies! Choose your gentleman— hey! At least let me finish,” Aegon whines when you loop your arm with Aemond, making a gagging sound when Aemond rests his palm on top of yours, “Ew, get a fucking room. Come on, Hel, we’re cooler than them.”

You chuckle when Aegon throws his arm around Helaena’s shoulders, taking the lead towards the vineyard not before he gives you a middle finger.

“Asshole,” you mutter, leaning your head on Aemond’s arm as you walk side by side, “since when did you guys have a vineyard? I’ve been Helaena’s friend for years and not once did she mention anything about it.”

“It was Viserys’ vineyard, everything belonged to him, but after Mum filed for divorce and the evidence she had against him, he gave it all away,” he explains, his thumb caressing your knuckles, “I’m glad though, Mum deserves this. I mean we weren’t in need of a huge house in King’s Landing, Old Town was enough for us anyway, but after what he put her through, she really deserved it.”

“Alicent is strong, I’m not sure if I could handle such a mind wrecking thing,” you sigh, squeezing his arm as you smile at the memories you wish to tell him, “I remember when your parents were getting divorced, Helaena would spend days with me at my Grandparents’ country house, she’d bring Dreamfyre too. It felt like an eternity when we were together.”

“Hel has that effect, time doesn’t pass with her,” He agrees, both of you waving when Helaena looks back and blows you a kiss, “I feel like that with you too, maybe because we have shared interests.”

“You’re lucky,” you reply softly, bumping your shoulder to his, “because I feel the same. Every talk we have had since we were kids till now is a core memory of mine. Yeah, Hel will always be my favorite, my best friend, but you are different from everyone I’ve met, you mean so much to me.”

“You’re a dear friend or at least a dear friend to my sister,” he laughs a little, “I remember those days though, it was just me and Daeron in this huge house. Aegon was somewhere probably fucking and drinking and doing drugs while I had to take care of Daeron. He was too young to understand anything.”

“I wish things were different…”

“I don’t,” you look at him, confused and intrigued, “Maybe my eye, yes, but… I’m glad he is no longer a part of our lives, I could care less if he drops dead tomorrow, I’m happy he is no longer here to pester us about Rhaenyra or anyone.”

As soon as you try to answer him, a huge truck goes past you at a fast pace, and in an instant, Aemond wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you to his side, keeping you close to his body as he steps between you and the road.

You pant, hands fisting the front of his shirt in terror as you try to regain your breathing. Aemond looks down at you, his fingers keeping you tightly against him as his other hand reaches to caress your cheek.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you nod, resting your forehead on his chest as he embraces you, “Yeah, I think I am.”

“We’re here, come on,” he finds Aegon and Hel already waiting for you, and gestures for you to follow them inside, “are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, Little nerd, I’m fine,” you reach and squeeze his hand, holding it as you walk through the entrance of the winery, finding Alicent, Daeron, and Cole already there.

“We’ll start with the winery!” Alicent announces, walking ahead of everyone with Criston on her side, “I’ve asked Qoren Martell to send us a very professional wine taster from Dorne to help us choose, and… here he is!”

“A pleasure to finally meet you, Ms. Hightower,” the old man nods at Alicent, shaking her hand gracefully, “I’ve been told you produce different wines here.”

You let go of Aemond and meet Helaena midway as she takes your hand and walks with you behind her Mum and Cole, pointing at different parts of the winery. At first, you see the huge Grape-filled bowls getting crushed, the noises are loud but the fruits look so juicy and sweet.

“This is incredible!” You tell Hel as the group walks toward the next room, watching in awe how huge these oak barrels are. There are probably hundreds of them, with one glass under each so if someone wants to taste the wine straight from the barrels would have easy access.

Helaena pulls you to the next room, not just you but the Targaryen siblings are shocked as well.

“You genius,” Aegon calls his mother, “This is insane!” “I have to agree,” Aemond looks around with his hands in the pocket of his shorts as he walks toward you and Helaena, “Our previous wine cellar was so little it barely fit two people in it. This is…” “Gorgeous,” you finish his sentence and take a good look at the wine cellar; the room is rounded, the walls are curved and the temperature is low to keep the bottles cold. The shelves start from the ground to the ceiling, all of them filled to the brim with different wines in each specific section, 

“It’s amazing, right?” Alicent asks, looking at her handiwork excitedly.

“You’re amazing…” It came out as a really really hushed whisper, but you and Aemond heard it correctly, Cole did say that.

You press your lips to contain your laugh when your eyes meet Aemond’s, finding him shaking his head as he reaches to rub over the huge round dining table in the middle of the room, smoothing his palm over the surface of the wood.

“Shall we start?” Alicent asks, and when you all say yes, she tells the older man to bring the bottles one by one.

You take a seat with Hel and Aemond on your sides at the table, waiting for the old Dornish man to bring the bottles. You see two other men bring a few plates filled with different cheeses and bread rolls.

“When will we see the vineyard?” You ask the siblings, pouting when Aemond chuckles at you, “Hey! Not everyone grew up with tons of money.”

“I’m not making fun of you if that’s what you’re thinking,” he replies, reaching to play with the rim of his glass, his white shirt stretching against his biceps, “your eagerness is cute.”

“Oh, fuck off!” You hide your face in your hands, laughing when Hel reaches to stroke your back, “Fine, but you need to take me there as soon as we’re done here.”

“Whatever you want,” he says, and all of you watch as Cole and the old man bring four bottles; Cabernet Sauvignon, Dornish Red, Rosè, and Chardonnay.

“Bring it on, old man,” Aegon whistles, plopping down on the chair next to the head of the table, bowing his head dramatically when Alicent sits.

You start with the Dornish Red and observe all of the siblings closely; Helaena sips gently and takes a piece of cheese immediately, Daeron and Alicent go on the exact same pace while humming at the same time, Aegon chugs the entire liquid and doesn’t let interest even for a second but Aemond… well you have only seen this move in social media but to see his slim and elegant fingers wrapped around the thin glass as he first looks at the color of the wine then swirls the liquid around before taking a whiff of the smell and after that a sip that follows with a deep rumbling from his chest.

You look away as soon as you sense he might turn around and catch you red-handed, taking a long sip of your glass before coughing at the too-sour taste of it.

“Not your favorite, huh?” Hel asks, handing you a piece of bread.

“Absolutely not,” you clear your throat before shooting Aemond a glare when he chuckles at you, “What?”

“Nothing,” he shrugs, “Come on, let's taste the next one.”

The next one is the white wine, it tastes much better than the Dornish Red, less sour but the bitterness of it is intolerable — you are by no means new to drinking alcohol, but wine has always been a tricky drink for you. You go through the third bottle as well, but again, it doesn’t taste excellent, until Aemond opens the Rosè, his arm bulging as he pulls up the corkscrew, making a delicious sound of ‘pop’. 

“Here you go!” Alicent says as she brings a huge plate of lime and Tangerines to the table to cleanse your pallets before you have the next drink.

“How did you find Tangerines in the summer?” You ask excitedly, side eyeing Aemond as he pours the wine in your glasses before he sits down and grabs the Tangerine from you.

“Not easy to find, but you can trust Criston with these things,” she looks at Cole who’s standing in the door frame with a glass of Dornish Red. How typical.

“What are you doing?” You ask Aemond before you take a sip from your drink, humming in joy as you finally taste the most delicious Rosè you could have ever had.

“What does it look like? I’m peeling it for you,” he answers as if you have asked the most stupid question ever.

“Oh, okay, thank you,” you smile at him, completely dumbfounded by the amount of consideration he’s shown towards you today. You must look so bashful as you avert your eyes from him and stare into your glass, trying to stop the thoughts from flowing in your mind.

“Here,” he hands you the peeled Tangerine before he rises up from his seat and extends his hand to you, “come on, I promised you a tour and the vineyard looks so beautiful now.”

“Alright,” you put your hand in his, letting him pull you on your feet effortlessly, keeping you straight when you wobble a bit. You thank him shyly, reaching to grab your glass as well and leave the wine cellar. 

“Why did the previous cellar not have enough room for all of you?” You ask suddenly, eating a piece of the Tangerine and offering him one as he leads you towards the staircase that reaches the vineyard.

“It was Viserys’, not ours,” he shrugs, “besides, Daeron and I were underage, we couldn’t drink—“

“This is… beautiful,” you exclaim the moment you step on the grass-covered path, the rows of Grenache trees have made a breathtaking sight, “how can you visit here so little? This is out of this world!”

“I’m glad you like it here,” Aemond smiles softly at you, watching as you slowly walk through the path, finishing your fruit before you reach and take one of the leaves between your fingers, slowly caressing it before taking a sip of your wine.

“It’s so dreamy, why didn’t you hold your wedding here?” You facepalm yourself, giving him an apologetic smile, “Sorry…”

“Sometimes people just… forget, and I think that’s what I want too, but… the wound is still fresh, I think about her more than I should,” he steps next to you, one hand in his pocket while the other swirls the rose wine in his glass, “besides, this place is too beautiful to waste it on someone like Alys, yeah, I loved her but…I was blinded by her sweet words.”

“I know, it’ll take a little while to get there, you know. Sometimes you feel unworthy, so ugly and bruised by everything but… it’ll get better.”

“It will, this place helps a bit, and I’m sure Aegon’s massive parties will be very helpful as well,” he grins at you.

“Yeah? Well, it definitely feels like a new beginning, right?” You ask him, taking a step away from him, biting your lip while smiling, keeping your eyes on him as he scoffs, “Which one will you choose for your birthday party, sir?”

“Which one did you like?” He asks and takes a step forward, finishing his glass. He hears his Mum calling you to go for lunch, but before you go, you answer him.

“The Rosè.”

[kevin-the-bruyne]

i don't really follow gmm couples closely but i thought firstkhao was one of gmm's biggest, what do you mean they're not that popular in thailand 😭😭

asdfghjkjhgf okay??? soo all this started because I was at my LAST straw when I saw a fan complaining that gmm prejudiced against first and he needs more work on twt (he already works *SO* much) and after having to see a series of gmm crits that were basically [insert false causalities/ metaphysically impossible demands] I lost my mind a little. [but actually its because im already pretty cuckoo bananas but I digress]

Then @fromthedepthsandbeyond brought to my attention this estimate (are you the op?) of events and brand sponsorships from last year where it shows that FirstKhao as a CP are in fact extremely popular but not at all popular as solo artists. And unfortunately I think this is just reality - they work really well together but I was actually both their 'solo' fans before they paired up. More khaotung than First and they are unfortunately just a little too kooky for mainstream popularity. I genuinely think Joong is trying to help Khaotung with roping him into TikTok dances and constantly promoting him on his own channel and IG broadcast because boy do First and Khaotung do nothing mainstream on IG. its only happy birthdays, promo work, promo cp, promo each other and khaotung's blurry artsy fuckboi photos. What can I say, that's what I like, that's what the people who like them like. I hope they don't change (but I know they're trying to). I would say, that actually they are quite popular given how far they veer from traditional masculinity...like they're pretty queer? Gun's numbers are exactly the same as them. Like I don't think GMM can do anything about that. I genuinely don't think GMM can do anything about the next bit either (at least in regards to FK they are very much fucking up other things)

What I was a little surprised by perhaps was this report by another fan who went to their building this summer (2024) and FK just had a mural on the second floor basement. I know that at some point they had some type of pillar on the ground level. Now, the events numbers are outdated and I follow them on socmed fairly close - they might not be getting sponsorships but they're not jobless. even at the times they're quiet or disappear when they resurface it turns out that they were series prepping or in workshops.

I don't know what to say, they're very queer coded, they take challenging jobs and are involved in projects and with creators that are invested in making some unique art which is rare at gmmtv something that everyone here loves to incessantly yell about (for good reason at times).

I don't know how to say this so that it doesn't sound totally insane but to be more popular they have to act straighter???? They actually have to look like they want to fuck a woman, like at least that they think about it instead of just each other. Like they tried so hard to make First's character straight in blacklist -A VALIANT attempt one would say and he still ended up having more chemistry with Drake and the 4 seconds he spent with khaotung on screen 😭 JoongDunk and PondPhuwin are just not like that??? I follow Joong and Pond on IG too and they are in fact able to breathe without their respective pair present. They are so so so so in love when together, bring each other up quite a bit when they're solo but they're not living inside the other's pocket if that makes sense? Sorry I ranted so long??? and for what?? but I guess what I'm trying to say is that I want Firstkhao to be popular but I also don't want them to change at the cost of mainstream popularity (though I understand why they're trying) - they are so worryingly codependent and wonderfully weird 🤧🤧🤧🤧

[bullet-prooflove]

Dirt: Daniel LaRusso x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @kiwiwatermelonsuger @sadgenderfluidmaniac @junghwansy2k 

Summer School Series:

Part One: Summer School - Daniel's excited to meet Anthony's new art teacher.

Your evening class is just letting out when Daniel drops by your studio. Your students are an array of ages between thirty and sixty, all chattering amongst themselves as they file out of the workshop.

“Oh hey.” You say when you see him lingering in the doorway. “Take a look around while I clean myself up.”

You’re wearing an apron covered in iron filings, your hair tied back in a ponytail. There’s a dark smear streaked across your cheek and somehow it’s just the sexiest damn thing. It isn’t until now that he realises how attractive he finds a woman who works with her hands, one that isn’t afraid to get a little dirty.

When you disappear into the backroom to washup, he finds himself touring the studio reviewing the projects your students are undertaking. He’s amazed by the creativity in the work, the complexity and the simplicity. He sees owls, and rainbows, figures on skateboards made with cogs and wrenches, nuts and bolts.

He pauses when he comes to the workbench at the head of the studio. There’s a large piece spread out across it, something much bigger than anything else in here. It’s made of wrought iron with intricate silver, gold and copper leaves soldered to the branches.

“It’s the tree of life.” You tell him as you come to stand alongside him, using a cloth to dry your hands. “It’s one of my most popular designs.”

“It’s beautiful.” He tells you, his fingertips trailing over the indentations in the metal, each one hand crafted. A blush creeps up across your cheeks and Daniel finds it endearing. You aren’t used to being appreciated, he can tell.

“When I first started the studio my ex told me this whole thing was a silly little girl’s dream.” You tell him as you gesture to the airy space around you. “He said I’d go under within a year.”

“How long has it been?” Daniel asks as he leans back against the desk.

“Three years.” You tell him as you hang the cloth up on a peg to dry.

“You are making that man eat his words.” Daniel says with a fierce sense of pride because truly you’ve accomplished something remarkable. “All of this, it’s amazing.”

“Thank you.” You say softly, your face lighting up. It’s at that moment Daniel realises you still have that smear of dirt on your cheek. He reaches out to wipe it as your eyes flicker up to meet his and in that moment he’s lost. The edges of your mouth turn up into a smile and he leans in close. The scent of your perfume floods his senses, it’s something dark, something sensual. Indian rose, he thinks with apricots, there’s an undertone of amber. It awakens something in Daniel, something he’s not felt in a long time.  

The door bangs open and the two of you break apart as one of your students hurries inside, apologising profusely for forgetting her bag.

“So what do you think?” You ask him after retrieving the item and bidding her goodnight. “Is it a good fit for Anthony?”

“Yea.” Daniel says as he looks around the room, a smile crossing his handsome features. “Yea I think it is.”

Love Danny? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[drarryspecificrecs]

2024.02  ~ Top 6 longest fics posted on AO3

1. The Stag and the Dragon: The School of Witchcraft and Wizardry by Jesse_James [T, 180k]

►On the night of October 31st 1980, in an attempt to subvert prophecy, The Dark Lord Voldemort launches a pair of attacks to rid him of the one chosen to defeat him. But when one fails, the world is changed forever. But in this universe, things are different. The rules are not always the same. And things will not always be as we remember. And with a different choice made with a young orphaned Harry's future, the consequences of this one act will echo across fate. /// Meanwhile, in a different family, another boy struggles against what he is, and what he was born to be. All while his father seems to orchestrate more than just his life.

2. Empty Spaces by nori_mari [T, 125k]

►What do you do when everything you know comes to an end? The battle is over, Voldemort's gone, everything they ever wanted has come to pass. So why is it so hard to return to a “normal” life? How does one simply pick up the pieces and move on? When your entire life and identity have revolved around this one thing for so long… what do you do you have left of yourself when that one thing is over?

3. Papa Needs Daddy's Help by @amillionregrets [E, 94k]

►Harry's life revolves entirely around work these days, and he's deeply engrossed in it, as usual, when an urgent fire-call from Ron abruptly turns his world upside down. Apparently, a four-year-old girl with emerald eyes and long black hair has shown up at Ron's shop, claiming to be Harry's daughter and seeking his help to save her papa.

4. The Boy from the Piano Shop by @soliblomst [M, 90k]  *typo

►After going blind in a reckless attempt to avenge Ginny's death, Harry battles with severe depression. One day, he stumbles upon a quaint piano restoration shop in the heart of London and meets the owner, a kindly old man, and his introverted young apprentice, whose voice sounds strangely familiar. As Harry and Draco slowly reconnect through private piano lessons, the small workshop becomes Harry's refuge, offering him a glimmer of hope in a world without eyes.

5. An Addendum For Depressed Authors by @queenie-jinny [E, 86k]

►‘The Misadventures of Harrison Portier’ six-part book series by J.E.P has been on the Daily Prophet’s best sellers list for 177 weeks straight, despite the author’s insistent anonymity and continuing avoidance of the public eye. After a long hiatus, the elusive final novel in the septology is about to hit the shelves, and Draco Malfoy, avid reader of the series and self-proclaimed number one fan (a proclamation he’d made to absolutely none save for himself), is determined to be the first person to read it. When the epilogue of the book leaves much to be desired, Draco has no choice but to take matters into his own hands. Thus begins a stormy correspondence that threatens to disrupt Harry’s hard-earned peaceful routine and maybe change his life in the process.

6. Draco's Splendid Decisions by @jocundasykes [E, 69k]

►Stuck in the doldrums of a rubbish summer holiday, an unexpected invitation beckons you back to the halls of Hogwarts for an eighth year. Should you go, and endure another round of academia? Dive into the mundane drudgery of work? Or escape it all with an international getaway? /// You're a free man. What happens next is up to you.

—

※ Word count: 1k ~ 10k

※ Word count: 10k ~ 40k

alive is a color you don't own by sectumsempra [E, 15k]

armstrong limit by @brosamigos [E, 11k]

Crossed Wires by @skeptiquewrites [E, 11k]

Enclosed is a Memory by Anonymous [M, 12k]

I'll Find You Again (I Always Do) by @dodgerkedavra [E, 15k]

The Month of Giving by Justlikewriting [M, 20k]

Nobody Except For You by @mistsound [T, 10k]

Oh, Overwhelming Passion and Seduction by AtelierOfStories [E, 19k]

These Old Feelings by Reloumi [E, 24k]

Time to indulge by @onehundredflamingos [E, 10k]

Until Now by crpage [T, 11k]

Warm Touch Makes No Sound by @rainjulyx [E, 13k]

—

Ongoing Fest/Exchange

※ Fics would be listed elsewhere.

Frottage Cottage WFAUFF Challenge

Knot Another Writing Fest: Knot Again 2023 | @hpknotfest

[pascalcampion]

Announcement I am running a 10 week long workshop with Drawing America this summer.

Link to the clas

The classes will be every Saturday for two hours, from 9 to 11 PST,  plus assignments and reviews during the week.

The main focus is to deconstruct how I tell stories and rebuild the process going through all the steps I use to make images, strips and animations (it will be focused on the single images but the steps are the same ones I use for all my work).

We’ll go over explanations of what story is ( in my mind, my interpretation of it) basic drawing skills and tools, story development, production, style guides and ways on how you can develop yourself as a storyteller.

We’ll go over how I tell stories using space, characters, mood, points of views, scope, emotional anchor points and as many of the tools, tips and tricks I can  think of.

This is an interactive class so questions are welcomed.

This is not a visual development class.

You will develop an understanding of what you do, how you do it, why and how to channel your skills and energy into creating visual stories.

During the class and at home, you will be asked to write, sketch, draw, paint and create stories.

I will give you feedbacks and critiques.  

(Please know that I can be a little blunt in my feedback though) 

The class will be available afterwards as a series of videos on the Drawing America Website.

I hope to see you there. I am very excited about this( and nervous too!)

[taliadoesrpgs]

I’m a professional Game Master, and I've got my July lineup of games ready.

For July, I’m offering:

- Dragon Heist for D&D 5th Ed

- Fate of the Galaxy, a space opera in Fate

- Solstice Rain, an introductory Lancer campaign

- The Summer Valor Build An OVA Workshop

- Slayers Detention, an Occult Punk Valor OVA

All of my games are $25/3 hour session and meet biweekly. Sign-up and is handled through the third party site Startplaying.Games - Descriptions and sign-up links below!

First off, having completed Dragon Heist for one group, I’m running it again for new D&D players - or those new to the campaign! Will you outsmart five crime lords and grab the treasure hidden in Waterdeep, worth half a million Gold Dragons?

Second, I have Fate of the Galaxy, a rollicking space opera adventure in the vein of Wars, DUNC (the slams must jam!), Nine Sols and Outlaw Star!

Join us to unleash psychic powers, make daring raids on Imperial bases, find alien allies and punch a Space Nazi!

Third, I’m bringing back Lancer with its introductory campaign, Solstice Rain. Become an elite mecha-jock for the benevolent Union as you intervene in an invasion. Save as many civilian lives as you can! Are you a bad enough pilot to rescue your captain?

Last but not least is a tradition of mine - the Original Valor Adventure Workshop! I’ll help your crew come up with a self-contained anime premise and characters, then do a short and sweet minicampaign - self contained, like an OVA series!

And, of course, we’re continuing the campaign created in the Spring OVA Workshop, Slayer’s Detention! There’s still room for two more punk teenagers who dare to fight spiritual and criminal corruption with gutter magic and street fighting!

[cityof2morrow]

EP11KB: Industrial Storage Units (3t2)

Published: 2-7-2024 | Updated: N/A SUMMARY “In need of a funkier, more futuristic skyline? The EP11 Kitbash Series (Simmons, 2022-2023) makes neighborhood assets from Sims 3: Into the Future (EA/Maxis, 2013) (and other EPs) available for Sims 2. Sets include single-tile shells and other items you’ll be able to plop on lots. Then, build above, below, in, and around them to create useable structures. Shell challenge anyone?” Here is a set of industrial storage containers from Oasis Landing (Sims 3: Into the Future, EA/Maxis, 2013) as decorative lot objects. They work well on industrial and/or factory lots and will go down with walls. The Storage Cylinder has space for up to four 1-tile doors and/or full-height windows. Otherwise, cover the openings!

DETAILS Requires all EPs/SPs. Cost: §1100 | Build > Architecture Storage Sphere 001 and the “-RECOLOR” files are BOTH REQUIRED for recolors to work – this set includes 30 color options. You also need the BB_Niche1_Master (BuggyBooz, 2012) and Element TXTR Repository from the Repository Pack (Simmons, 2023). ITEMS Storage Cylinder (~23x23 Tiles) (3248 poly) 5-Story Storage Spheres 001 and 002 (3004 poly) - click on the BASE of Storage Sphere 1 to recolor it. Storage Filler Material (638 poly) – make sure it is facing in the same direction as Sphere 001 and placed on the same tile. **Poly counts are semi-high due to meshing issues but limiting placement to 1-2 per lot should minimize the risk of pink flashing. Mind your system settings! DOWNLOAD (choose one) from SFS | from MEGA BUILDING TIPS (suggested methods) Build an octagon (20 tiles across, 19 tiles front-to-back) with sides of alternating lengths of 6 and 7 tiles respectively. Going clockwise, the front side should be 7 tiles across, the next should be 6 tiles across…and so on.

Once you’ve got 8 sides, add doors and/or windows to the center tile on the sides which are 7 tiles across. Use these entrances to get sims in and out of the building. Finally, place the Industrial Storage Cylinder on the tile directly in front of the front door/window. Add other details as needed.

For the Industrial Storage Spheres, you can build a functional catwalk between them. Place at least two, making sure the sides with the opening in the top gate and floor supports are facing one another.

Using columns, walls, etc., build up to the sixth floor, then add floor tiles and fencing.

CREDITS Thanks: Simblr community. Repository Technique Tutorial (HugeLunatic, 2018), Sims 3 Object Cloner (Jones/Simlogical and Peter, 2013), Sims 3 Package Editor (Jones/Simlogical and Peter, 2014), S3PI Library (Peter), S3PE Plugin (Peter, 2020), TSR Workshop v2.2.119 (2023). Sources: BB_Niche1_Master (BuggyBooz, 2012), Beyno (Korn via BBFonts), Oasis Landing (The Sims 3: Into the Future) List of Community Lots (Summer’s Little Sims 3 Garden, 2014), Recolors-ACYL (CuriousB, 2010).

[twopoppies]

Brooklyn_Babylon fics as T-Shirts

Hike Up Your Skirt (And Show Your World To Me) E, 18K

Louis has a very hands on approach to training his new secretary. How else can he make sure Harry realizes his full potential?

Literally Making Love (E, 30K)

Holding up one of the android's eyes to the workshop’s windows, he smiled as the light picked up the gold flecks in the pale green of his irises. Louis had always paid attention to even the tiniest details.

—

All Louis intended to do was rescue someone in need from loneliness. He had no idea it would be himself.

An Invincible Summer (E, 45K)

Never content to stay in one place for long, a few months down south researching for his novel seemed like an idyllic, slow-paced summer to Louis. He wasn't ready for the blistering heat, the backbreaking work of watermelon picking, or how stifling the attitudes in rural Georgia would feel. And he definitely hadn’t anticipated falling in love with the farmer’s son.

The summer of 1946 would turn out to be everything worth writing about.

gathered on wings (E, 33K)

What Harry Styles wanted was to be taken seriously as an artist.

What he needed was a new sugar daddy to pave the way.

Louis Tomlinson is an artist who isn’t what Harry is looking for.

Somehow he still manages to turn Harry's world upside down.

Whoever, However (E, 9K)

Louis could feel his heart rate pick up as he positioned the camera and Harry slowly stood up. They both knew what came next—it had been clearly outlined in the advert Harry answered. The studio Louis worked for was filming a new series of camboy videos. Louis’ job was to make it look like amateur porn—sweaty, sensual, dirty—but well lit and edited. He was an artist, thank you very much.

—

Or: Louis has a much better day at work than he’d expected.

Thank you @awesomefringey and @lovingstheantidote for indulging my nonsense and looking for t-shirts. 😂 Clearly, I’m procrastinating writing my new fic.

[vintagerpg]

En Garde! (1975) is the first roleplaying game from Game Designers’ Workshop. It’s the earliest swashbuckling game (set in Musketeer-era France, or at least a simulacra of that era constructed from swashbuckling Hollywood films).

Like Boot Hill, this is primarily a one-on-one tactical combat game, though unlike Boot Hill, there is quite a bit going on beside the combat. The combat is about what you’d expect, though an interesting complication is that duelists lay out a series of pre-planned actions in secret and then attempt to reconcile them. There’s something neat about this programming.

More interesting is the focus on the character’s life that takes up the rest of the book. There is a mechanical social life that plays out week to week, with the character taking part in social activities and, hopefully, gaining status points. This system provides a loose narrative framework for potential tomfoolery, duels and other roleplaying opportunities. It’s the first social simulation I can think of and, the ONLY one, for several years. The next thing to emerge like this is probably Midkemia’s Cities simulator.

The other interesting thing is the game’s approach to military life — a necessary part of a gentleman’s life, taking up the entirety of the summer season with campaigning, which imparts special effects, benefits and, possibly, death. This is a clear forerunner to Traveller’s tours of duty lifepath system.

It also establishes a couple of GDW’s publication practices — the book is chapbook sized, give or take, and, aside of the Maurice Leloir illustration on the cover (from The Three Musketeers), there is no art inside.

[scribbled-anecdotes]

Kill the Mood - MDZS Slasher AU

Did anyone else read MDZS and think woah you know what this campy, murder-filled series needs: an AU set in a '80s campy teen Slasher? Because I did!

Synopsis:

Meng Yao is in the final year of high school. Between his shitty parents, his shitty after-school job, and his shitty social life, graduation cannot come quick enough. With stressful university admissions and a long-held crush on one of the most popular guys in school, Meng Yao couldn't imagine things could get any more chaotic. That is until he comes home to find he has another half-brother, Xue Yang, who seems a bit ... off. Things quickly spiral when Meng Yao realizes that he might have more in common with this new-found half-brother, who might just be a teen serial killer.

Relationships: XiYao; established Xuanli and in future chapters: SongXiao, Wangxian (background), and XiaoXue (if you see things from Xue Yang's point of view, that is)

CW: canon-typical abuse, suicide mention, mild gore and child death.

Also shoutout to the darling @prinzsorgenfrei for not only aiding and abetting this by beta reading it and drawing very pretty character designs, but for also workshopping scenes with me and for co-writing some XiYao.

This is my first MDZS fic, so please do let me know y'all's thoughts.

New York, 1986

“Jesus Christ.”

A pair of firefighters scanned flashlights over the charred remains of what had once been a nursery: rows of cribs and toddler cots reduced to pyres. Little bodies, burned beyond recognition, curled up.

At least they had been asleep.

There was always something particularly horrid when such innocent lives were caught up in accidents like these. Faulty wiring in the old boys’ group home was the immediate suspect. The fire had started in the basement, where wires that hadn’t been updated since before the war knotted and choked each other out. They had found the Headmaster’s body—well his presumed body; it was too big to be that of a child—curled outside his rooms. Smoke inhalation was the immediate suspect, there. What a pitiful and painful way to go.

But the thing about burnt bodies, the particular thing about burnt bodies unassumingly crisped in an old house that was practically begging to go up in flames, was that no one would think to look for further injuries. Feet fall off when temperatures get too hot, after the body curls up as the muscles contract and bulge in the inferno. What does it matter when the Achilles Tendon snaps? Or is snapped, rather. What would it matter how bruised and cut up the now charred flesh is? And of course, the uniform scorch marks took care of any pesky, incriminating blood stains.

When the fire department finally made it on the scene, all they saw was a tragedy, with one small miracle in the form of a delinquent with a record and a habit of sneaking away at night, including this one. One who had smelt smoke while hopping the fence back onto the grounds and had bravely run for help, but the fire had burned too long. Thus he became the lone survivor of a tragic house fire.

…

“13 people, most of them minors, are reported to be dead after a house fire broke out in a Queens boys’ home. Authorities arrived on scene at the Chang Group Home for Boys at around 1:47 this morning.”

Meng Yao heard the news report from his basement bedroom and bit his cheek knowing that Mrs. Jin had yet to leave for her hair appointment. It was barely the third day of school and she would already have ample opportunity to chastise him for being late. It didn’t matter that it was barely the third day of school and he was still working what was meant to be a summer job at the local video store. He’d been up until 2 am and his alarm had gone off no later than 6:30. Who could blame him for hitting snooze and begging his younger brother, Xuanyu, to wake him at 7:00 am? Regardless, he hadn’t, and now Meng Yao was perched at the base of the stairwell waiting for Mrs. Jin to finish her coffee and leave for her appointment or at least get up for long enough to let Meng Yao sneak into the bathroom to brush his teeth. He was stuck listening to the news and Mrs. Jin’s snide commentary for another 3 minutes.

“After their preliminary investigation, the Fire Department of New York has declared the fire accidental, citing out-of-date electrical wiring and a faulty air conditioning system.” They played a brief clip of the Fire Chief expressing his condolences for the tremendous loss of life and explaining what the news anchor had already confirmed. “Our hearts here at the NYFD are with the surviving child,” he added bittersweetly before the broadcast presumably cut back to the station. “This youth is reported to be in state care until other arrangements can be made.” Meng Yao heard Mrs. Jin huff. “In other news—.”

“City’s gone to shit,” Mrs. Jin said, before flicking the channel to one of those morning talk shows stay-at-home wives liked. Stuff about new recipes and the best back-to-school buys. Mrs. Jin was the type of woman who would make others wait. It was her appointment after all, shouldn’t it be about her? If Meng Yao kept it up he’d be late anyway without the guarantee that he’d go unnoticed.

He trotted up the stairs, darting around the corner into the bathroom to no avail. “You’re still here? You’re already going to be late on the first week?” While Mrs. Jin certainly would not hold back with her words most days, today it was all in her tone. You’re still here was loaded with years of resentment and anticipation for the moment she would not have to see the reminder of her husband’s infidelity.

There was really no use explaining himself and even though an apology wouldn’t get him very far either, Meng Yao said sorry as he rushed into the kitchen to find an apple. That could be both breakfast and lunch, right?

“Morning,” he said routinely when Zixuan walked into the kitchen. It would be hard to tell that they spent their mornings rushing around the same kitchen. Where Zixuan was well-dressed, Meng Yao swum in awkwardly-fitting hand-me-downs Zixuan hadn’t touched since the 9th Grade. Where Meng Yao would try in vain to style the remnants of a bad bowl cut for three seconds in the mirror before giving up, Zixuan had the privilege of spending the morning in the shower to achieve his seemingly effortlessly coiffed hair. Zixuan flashed him a smile, more focused on packing his bag. The smile, momentarily lighting up his eyes, made Meng Yao conscious of his own bleary ones, a trait his step-mother was convinced he inherited from his mother. “Zixuan doesn’t look so lifeless” and whatnot when posing for photos. Maybe he had gotten that from his mother; a little way to assure everyone that perfect Zixuan and the inconvenient Meng Yao were only half-brothers.

“Hey,” he hesitated, noticing Zixuan was halfway out the kitchen. “Would you mind giving me a ride to school? I just, um, woke up late.” Zixuan’s brows furrowed and those bright eyes softened. “I won’t ask again,” he tried to assure with an awkward half-smile.

“I’m picking up Yanli,” Zixuan responded matter-of-factly.

Of course. Though he hadn’t said no, he was picking up his girlfriend. It was stupid to ask, Meng Yao realized. Who would want to pick up their girlfriend with their brother in the car? So sexy, right? “You know what, never mind. I can figure it out.”

Zixuan’s brows remained furrowed, “Yeah, whatever you want.” He walked out the door.

It wasn’t the worst situation Meng Yao had been in, not by a long shot. He remembered the three weeks in foster care between his mother’s death and being dropped at his estranged father’s doorstep: his things in a trashbag, loud dormitories where it was impossible to sleep, being nearly a month behind in school work even though the year had just started, nearly choking to death trying not to cry himself to sleep. Not that any of this went away when he arrived in the quiet new-build suburb in upstate New York with a fading tan from the Nevada sun, like he’d been on vacation, and his mom’s ashes precariously in his 13 year old arms. Who would blame Madam Jin for turning up her nose?

Xuanyu, who was just 8 when Meng Yao had arrived, was the only one who seemed excited to have him, and that was mostly because he would not have to sleep alone in the basement anymore. Meng Yao remembered the pit in his stomach, seeing that scrawny little boy eager to show him around and explaining that he didn’t need to be afraid anymore since his older half-brother was here now and could protect him from the monsters that undoubtedly hid in the shadows of the dimly lit storage-room-turned-bedroom. In hindsight, it should have been a warning sign when Xuanyu innocently, almost pathologically naively, explained that the Jin couple kept ‘forgetting’ to buy him a nightlight. But at the time, it didn’t matter to Meng Yao. He was a few months shy of his 14th birthday and didn’t plan on staying long, especially once he got his first New York job at the local thrift store. About three weeks into that, the best he’d gotten to show for his hard work was a much-appreciated nightlight for his new little brother and an empty shoebox which he labelled “College Fund.” His mother would want him to go to college, rather than become a 14-year-old high school dropout working some shitty job for the rest of his life.

Three years later, and he was walking to his last year of high school, dreaming of college admissions. Years of working and stashing away half of every paycheque had brought him close to his goal and, according to the guidance counselor, he had the grades to get a decent scholarship, so long as he kept up the hard work and the extra curriculars. And oh did he: a full time table, staying later after school for the last 3 years; Mondays and Wednesdays for Student Council and Fridays for Model UN, Thursday mornings for Debate club. “No sports though,” the guidance counselor had told him last year, face screwed like it was a crime to have asthma. “Lots of scholarships in sports, you know.” Meng Yao had just rolled his eyes. Regardless, when would he have the time for a sport? Meng Yao wondered if he could squeeze something else in as he walked to school. This was his last year after all. Maybe Drama club, or... His thoughts trailed of, exhausted. Who was he kidding, how on Earth would he keep going like this? Working nights and weekends, falling onto his bed after a long day of classes and extra curriculars and mind numbingly boring shifts at Video World, just to get up a few hours later to do it all again.

But there were things about his life that he had actually come to enjoy.

“Morning,” Meng Yao whispered as he plopped down beside Lan Xichen.

Math class wasn’t all that bad. For one, Meng Yao was quite good at it. Maybe Mathletes would round out his college application. The senior math teacher had been overjoyed when he heard that Meng Yao planned on majoring in Finance and becoming an accountant, so he probably would be overjoyed to have Meng Yao on the team this year. Or anyone on the team for that matter.

“Did you sleep in?” Xichen whispered under the lesson on Functions, even though he had a near-pathological fear of being rude.

“Yeah.”

Xichen held out a granola bar. “You didn’t eat, did you?”

Meng Yao took the bar in response. No. He gave Xichen a familiar half-smile in thanks and got one in return.

Eating in class was technically frowned upon, but fainting in class would mean certain social death, so Meng Yao decided to nibble on small pieces of granola whenever the teacher was turning towards the board. When he had finally finished the granola and rubbed his fingers against each other to get rid of the sticky film of leftover honey, Xichen handed him a perfectly clean cloth handkerchief. Sometimes it was hard to forget that the uncle Xichen was living with was old, rich, and as traditionalist as it got.

“Thanks again,” whispered Meng Yao, and, with a bat of his eyelashes, added: “How lucky I am to have befriended such a perfect gentleman. Should I iron it before I give it back?”

“That would be much appreciated,” answered Xichen with an expression so serious it could only be mocking, “For if my uncle were to find out I bequeathed this to anyone but a fiancée or a wife he would surely lock me in the attic for the rest of the semester.”

Meng Yao hid his laugh with a cough and their teacher turned around.

“Anything to share with the class, Mr. Meng? Mr. Lan?”

“Nothing of note, I apologize,” said Meng Yao before Xichen could feel guilty, “I’m having some issues with my contacts and asked Xichen to help me read the last equation. I did not mean to disturb the lesson.”

The teacher gave his favourite student a reproachful look but continued his lesson without another hitch. Xichen looked at Meng Yao with an amused twitch to his lips.

“I did not know your perfect vision had worsened.”

“Do keep my secret.”

They turned their focus back to the lesson and before long the bell ended the most pleasant ninety minutes of Meng Yao’s day.

“Will I see you at lunch?”

If he imagined a hopeful undertone in Xichen’s voice that was nobody’s business.

“I’ll be present.”

He would decidedly not sit with Xichen and Nie Mingjue, but he would be present. It had its perks. He was less easily distracted from his actual food intake.

“Could I talk to you about homecoming then? There are some things we need to figure out and I would really like your opinion on them. We’ll decorate later this week, but I know you’re busy, so I’d like to run it by you during school hours.”

“Um, yeah, of course.” Meng Yao tried not to sound overexcited, it was just homecoming after all. But it was a welcomed distraction. He fondly remembered when they were on prom committee last year, even though they didn’t attend. Tossing streamers into the bag and then at each other while they swept up the gymnasium. There was something so liberating about being alone with Xichen, their laughter echoing off the walls as they ate leftover finger foods and talked about their summer plans. “I can meet you in the library after class on Friday, if that works?”

“That would be lovely.” Xichen smiled and headed down the hall toward English class.

—

Model UN was fine. They spent most of the hour preparing for the next conference, pouring over books about Nuclear Warfare and Treaty Rights. Truth be told, Meng Yao was only half listening while he took notes on the school typewriter. He was about halfway through mindlessly typing “excellent work, gang. Have a nice weekend” before he realized they were breaking.

Xichen was in the library as promised, happily getting ahead on his Physics homework. “Sorry,” Meng Yao apologized.

“What for?”

“I’m late.”

“Hardly.” Xichen produced an apple from his bag. “It’s really fine, I know that you have Model UN and all.”

“Thanks,” Meng Yao accepted the apple.

“Plus, Wangji has volleyball practice tonight anyway and he needs a ride home.” Xichen produced a binder of details and Meng Yao practically swooned when he saw the colour-coding. It was a system they had devised together: Green for finances, blue for food and drink, red for legal things—forms and whatnot—and so forth. “So, decorations. I revised the budget and we can free up some extra money. We need a theme, no? For the dance portion.”

“Yes. And if we’re doing spirit week—do we have spirit days picked out?”

Xichen flipped a few pages ahead, mumbling to himself, “School colours, Flashback Day, PJ Day, Beach Day, Jersey Day.”

Meng Yao screwed up his face at the disjointed roster. God, didn’t their co-council members have any idea about cohesion? “Well, we have to keep Jersey Day for Game Night, but we can build up to the home-coming dance theme with each spirit day, no?”

Xichen gleefully crossed out PJ Day and Beach Day and Meng Yao swore he looked relieved. “What about doing Americana? Its the school’s 75th anniversary this year, we can keep the School Colours, the jersey and the flashback and substitute Beach Day and PJ Day for something a little more New York or at least closer to New Hoenderloo High history.”

“Gangster Day?” Meng Yao suggested.

Xichen scoffed. “What does New Hoenderloo have to do with the mob?”

“I don’t know, our prime export is corn and varsity jocks. But we’re so close to New York that I’m sure people won’t bat an eye.”

Xichen nodded and added Gangster Day to the agenda. He supposed it was better than Farm Day or something.

“And, um, we can do a classic American Day? Red, White, and Blue and that junk. Founding fathers.”

“Would work.”

“And we can decorate the homecoming dance with American Classics, a jukebox instead of a DJ, we can serve milkshakes, and do ‘50s Diner lighting?”

Xichen laughed. He loved Meng Yao’s big ambitions. “Remember, I said, some money was freed up. We’re hardly Studio 54.”

“Let me see that budget.” Meng Yao poured over the numbers, looking for missed unnecessary spending. “A jukebox is way cheaper than a DJ, you know. That saves us a couple hundred bucks easy. Plus, if we raise the ticket prices by a few dollars, we can make up the difference. That’s not even including fundraisers like the Football Team Charity Car Wash or the Meat Raffle.” Meng Yao wrote out all the numbers neatly so that Xichen would have something to show the rest of the committee on how to really throw a great home-coming.

“See, this is why we need you to be vice-president!”

Meng Yao blushed. “Really? Little ol’ me?”

He suddenly became less playful when he saw Lan Wangji appear in the library. Wangji was, of course, polite, like his older brother, and, of course, also socially awkward, drastically unlike his older brother. So, he would wait stoically in the library entry until his brother would notice him, rather than interrupting them and risking making small talk with Meng Yao. “Your brother is done with practice, I think.”

Xichen waved and asked Wangji a bunch of questions: How was practice? When is the next game? Would he need something to eat? And Wangji replied simply: “Good. Tuesday. No. Can’t spoil dinner.”

“Ready to go home?”

“Yes.”

Meng Yao packed his things up alongside Xichen, happily chattering about how much progress they made in just a half hour. “It’s really coming together,” he added as he went to turn left to catch the bus.

“Would you like a ride home?” Xichen offered.

“It wouldn’t be too much trouble, would it?”

“You live a couple blocks away from us. It would be far more convenient.”

Meng Yao’s lips curled softly, gratefully. “Then, I would love a ride. Thank you.”

—

“Looks like you have guests,” Xichen observed, trying to make pleasant conversation as always. Meng Yao recognized that car. God, he wondered if that social worker worked on commission, a little extra for every traumatized child she dragged to Jin Guanshan. God knows there were probably enough bastards to make up an entire career. Meng Yao’s tired sigh turned into an airy half-laugh, mostly at his own joke. But Xichen smiled. “Have a lovely visit,” he added when he pulled into the driveway and let Meng Yao out of the car.

“Thanks. And thanks again for the ride home, I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime, A-Yao.”

Mrs. Jin had put out tea and coffee, even a tray of baked goods. Her gentle sips and small, delicate bites quickly hardened into a tight frown. Meng Yao felt like he did three years ago. Mrs. Jin was consistent; she wore the same tired, expectant face and flashed her cold, irritated gaze at Meng Yao when he froze in the living room. “A-Yao, our other son.” Meng Yao almost rolled his eyes at how much Mrs. Jin visibly struggled to call him ‘our son.’ “You must remember him?” Her voice was pleasant enough when talking to the social worker.

“I do. How are you? How is school? Still playing soccer?”

“Good. And good.” Meng Yao had never played soccer in his life, but he played along and told her that he might even be getting a scholarship for it. No one knew enough to correct him, anyway.

She gave him a well-rehearsed polite smile, before turning her attention back toward Mrs. Jin. “I trust you know the drill. If there are any problems, please do not hesitate to call. Though you should know.” She trailed off and Meng Yao could see her thinking through what to say next. “You know, he has had some problems in his group homes, but those situations are volatile for any child. A stable, loving home like this one will probably do him good.”

            Meng Yao’s attention turned to the muffled conversation Xuanyu was having with someone in the basement.

So he had a new brother now, he supposed. And a new roommate.

            “And this is Meng Yao!” He heard Xuanyu say before he was even halfway down the stairs. Really, who else could it have been? Who else would want to go down into their creepy, damp basement bedroom? Meng Yao forced his most welcoming smile. He remembered how shy he felt when he first came to New York. Shy and lonely and so, so angry at the world. A smile and a polite, calm introduction was the least he could do.

            The boy, who couldn’t have been much younger than he was, gave him a full smile. “Hi.” There was something so juvenile about that smile that it unnerved Meng Yao. It wasn’t innocent like Xuanyu’s, happy regardless of his circumstances. No, this was boyish in a hedonistic way, sharp and carefree; all pointed canines and no baby teeth.

            “Xue Yang.” He said, bobbing his chin and widening his smile to an almost wolfish state.

            “Nice to meet you, Xue Yang.” Meng Yao could thankfully recover the conversation quite quickly. He welcomed first years all the time, and even though Xue Yang was going into Junior year and would hardly be as intimated of him as a 13-year-old, he was sure the faltering of his welcoming tone would go unthought of. “I can’t imagine your coming here was brought on by good circumstances, so—”

            “Oh no, asshole cardboard suburbanites were my childhood dream.” Meng Yao quickly learned that Xue Yang liked to laugh at his own obnoxious sarcasm. A lot. And Xuanyu, ecstatic at yet another older brother, also liked to laugh.

            “So, if you want to talk about it,” he continued, trying to move on from Xue Yang’s instant dislike of the situation, “I would be more than happy to.” It really was not Meng Yao’s place to judge him for it. If his childhood was anything like his own, filled with promises of a dad who was just coming back, always just coming back someday, then Xue Yang was likely utterly disappointed by the dad who had just relegated him to the basement and was headed back to work after making his wife do all the talking. No fancy house and fully-stock fridge could make up for that.

            “Meng Yao is really good at talking,” Xuanyu assured. “My mom slit her wrists when I was five.”

            Xue Yang scoffed at his candour, a cheeky grin spreading. “You really just say whatever the hell you want, eh?” Xuanyu nodded, just happy to get someone’s attention. Xue Yang loved it when kids were stupid.

            “And my aunt always told me it was my fault. But Yao-gege said its not and he always tells me that when I have nightmares. So, he can make you feel better.”

            “Xuanyu.” Meng Yao gave him a gentle pat on the back of his head, dropping his voice to a whisper. “remember, we don’t have to tell everyone everything, okay?”

            “Why not? We’re brothers!”

            “Yeah,” Xue Yang turned back to his trashbag-suitcases and began to take over the bottom bunk. “We’re brothers, aren’t we, Yaoyao?”

            My bed…, Meng Yao thought about explaining Xue Yang could have the clearly unused top bunk but thought against it. What was the difference anyway?

[trickphotography2]

TrickPhotography2's Masterlist

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Jake 'Hangman' Seresin

D-Day (Jake Seresin x Reader series)

After finding out his girlfriend is pregnant, Jake is ready to move in and get married. The last thing he expected was to be hit with a six-month deployment at sea and missing the birth of his first child. (Jake x Reader, no y/n used)

First and Goal (Jake Seresin x Reader)

Hangman hosts a college football day for the Daggers, only to have Payback bring a history making Angel. (Hangman x female Reader fluff, no use of 'you')

Overtime (Jake Seresin x Reader, First and Goal pt. 2)

It was just supposed to be a football game. But then Hangman took Syla up on her invitation to watch the Blue Angels perform at the Miramar air show. A month after meeting and facing the last home show of her career, the history making Naval Aviator invited Hangman to visit her in Pensacola. She didn't actually expect him to accept. Payback definitely wasn't happy.

'tis the damn season (Jake Seresin x OC series)

After six years away from home, Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin was finally going to make his parents happy and surprise his family by spending Christmas in Magnolia, Texas. Introducing his pregnant fiancee to his family is a culture clash, with rural Texas meeting California influencer. Though unhappy in his relationship, Jake knows he has to buckle down and do the right thing with a baby on the way.

The last person he expected to run into was his high school sweetheart and the one that got away, Julie.

After almost a decade apart, Jake and Julie can't help but feel that old familiar spark. Even with the realities of their lives pressing in, they can't help but wonder what might have happened if just one of them had fought for their relationship all those years ago.

The Perfect Match (Jake Seresin x Reader one shot)

Every third week in March, fourth year medical students find out where they'll be going for their residency. A quick 2.2K word one-shot of Jake's girlfriend going through that process.

we can't be friends (but i'd like to just pretend) (Jake Seresin x unnamed Reader [Ladybug] one shot)

Jake's not entirely sure how the bet came about other than being too drunk and maybe a little bored at the Fourth of July party. But after shaking on it with Yale, he agrees to help the new WSO - Ladybug - out with her crush on Rooster and figure out how to get the two of them to the Navy Ball together. With four months to get it done, it'll be simple. But when the reserved aviator is harder to get to know than expected, Jake has to push her to get out of her own way.

Robert 'Bob' Floyd

(Every Step You Take) I'll Be Watching You (Bob Floyd x Reader one shot)

Bob disliked Friday team nights at The Hard Deck but knows they're important to the squad. That is, he disliked them until Penny hires a new summer bartender who gently pushes him to try new things. But when he comes in to find the police asking for her, the last thing he expected was to find himself protecting Evie. Trigger warnings: stalking, attempted assault. (Bob x Reader [Evie], no physical description)

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw

Santa's North Island Delivery Service (Bradley Bradshaw x Reader one shot)

Stuck at work, Bradley is missing his daughter's first Christmas Eve. But when the squadron decides to turn the hanger into Santa's Workshop, the pilot is able to sneak away to spend a little time with his girls. (Inspired by a true story; Rooster x Reader Christmas fluff)

Wanna Dance with Somebody (Bradley Bradshaw x Reader one shot)

When his girlfriend of three months ditches a night at the Hard Deck after a rough day, Bradley knows just what to do to cheer her up.

[exquisiteserotonin]

Precious Possessions, Chapter 2

It's Wednesday and Dave's ready to get a little more dirty. So I bring to you Chapter 2 of my Dave York Fic.

Previous | Next

Series Summary: Defense intelligence conferences are always the same informative but also always boring. You didn't expect anything different for this one, but an unexpected meeting with a man named Dave York, changes the trajectory of your conference experience and maybe even more.

Pairing: Dave York X F!Reader

Rating & Warnings: Explicit (18+, MDNI!), Slow burn, sexual tension, dirty, smutty talk, masturbation, finger fucking, public sex (sort of?), Not beta'd --- any weird grammar things and tense shifts are on me.

A/N: Also thank you to my slut collective who always throw out inspiration on the daily. I love you witches. @sparklefarts38 @legendary-pink-dot @best-little-secret @basicoccult

Chapter 2: Starving

The next day of the conference wore on you like a trek through a theme park on a hot summer day.  You typically loved conferences, treating them as a mini vacation that happened to include mandatory workshops and trainings.  Learning and absorbing brand-new information was inspiring and invigorating.  Yet each new presentation you attended that day seemed to grow unbearably long. A nervous energy emanated from your body, manifesting in you through repeatedly crossing and uncrossing your legs, wiggling and bouncing your foot, and tapping your pen repeatedly on your notepad. 

A frustrated heat welled up in you as you realized your thoughts were turning to Dave. The space he was taking up in your brain was unexpected. Your watch and the slow hands of the analog clocks found in each meeting room reminded you of how far away you were from 7:30 in the evening.

When lunch time arrived everyone buzzed around you with an excited energy relieved to have a break. You grabbed a plate of salad from the complimentary lunch served to the conference attendees and searched for the quietest corner to enjoy your meal. To your disappointment, your coworker Brad found you. His plate and silverware clanked as he set it down in front of you. 

“How has your day been?” he asked, his teeth almost blinding you with how white they were. 

“I don’t know,” you answered between bites of your salad. “All the sessions just seem to be running together.”

“It’s only day two and you’re already experiencing conference fatigue?” He joked with little success, eliciting a polite smile from you. 

“It must be that time of month,” you shrugged, finishing your salad quickly. “If you don’t mind, I think I’m going to grab an aspirin from my room.”

Brad raised his hands, backing up slightly in his chair, squirming with discomfort. As you suspected, this made him uncomfortable enough for you to make your exit. The way the temples of your head began to throb revealed that your escape was only a half lie. You excused yourself and darted towards the elevator. Other hotel guests filed in behind you, checking in with their heavy, space-taking luggage. You backed yourself into a corner and closed your eyes, placing your fingers lightly at your temples. You shifted sideways as more people flooded in, leaving little room between yourself and the next person.

“You OK, firefly?” The gravelly whisper of a familiar voice reached your ears.

You looked up to see Dave standing before you, dangerously close. 

“Dave, hey,” you greeted, relieved to see him. “It’s just a headache.”

“You know, I have something for that,” he said and you felt him shift his weight until you felt his hip press against yours.

The throbbing of your headache dulled and you fought with yourself to hide the moan you so desperately wanted to release from your mouth. A tingling sensation tip-toed down your shoulders, stomach, and irresistibly, inconveniently down to your core. As you held each other’s gaze, you felt his smug smile drawing you in and tempting you. 

“You know what?” The satisfaction you got from challenging him was unmatched and you smiled back. “I think I can take care of it for the time being.” 

Feeling brazen and empowered, you brushed your fingertips along the side of his left pant leg, until your hand began to take hold of his hip. He knitted his brows down to glare at you, his hand meeting yours quickly to grip your wrist with one of his large, weathered hands. The way he stared you down, gripped your wrist, and shook his head indicating no without a word electrified you even more. It shot through your body from the tips of his fingers, its electricity awakening every cell in you and your heart thumping loudly in your ears. 

The elevator rocked back and forth as it moved upwards. Engrossed in each other, you barely noticed or acknowledged as the other guests left the elevator. You backed away from him a few steps, his fingers rippling open to release you from his grip. In only a matter of seconds, you knew you’d be arriving on your floor. 

“We’re still having that meeting at 7:30, correct?” He asked as he cleared his throat and as he pressed his hands to his hips.

“Still on,” you confirmed as you felt the warmth of his body heat overtake you as he stepped closer behind you. 

“Then you should save your energy,” Dave said, leaning his head close to yours, his breath caressing your ear. 

His hand gently brushed the back of your skirt, the back of his fingers just brushing your ass. The faintness of his touch was enough to leave you nearly breathless and yearning for more of it, so much that you hitched your breath with a quick gasp. 

“Noted,” you breathed, looking up at him with a nod of your head before you stepped away. 

Despite the slight dulling of your headache, you still gulped an aspirin upon returning to your hotel room. You lowered yourself to the fluffy sheets of your hotel room bed. Noting the time on the clock: 12:35 pm. It reminded you how quickly you had gulfed down your lunch just to get away from Brad. You closed your eyes, promising yourself it would only be for a moment. The ghost of Dave’s soft whisper against your ear haunting you. The power of your mind helped you to imagine his whisper as fingers traveling down your blouse to your skirt. An achy longing began to beat at your core as you thought of him. You began to slide your hand down the length of your skirt and gathered it in your hand, pulling it upwards. You drew your fingers up your thighs, walking them closer and closer to your underwear. All the while, you imagined his hand, his weathered fingers as your breath quickened. You pushed your panties to the side, sliding your fingers to your clit, feeling how your folds were coated with your slick because of him. Because of Dave. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, keeping the image of him in your brain. The memory of how his massive hand gripped your wrist, his fingers large and commanding. You let yourself imagine his hands touching you, dipping inside you, fucking you, and savoring the taste of you on his fingers while he chanted your name as he worked on you, beckoning you to come. Your orgasm crashed over your body, setting you on fire and wrapping you in warmth. You stared at the ceiling of your hotel room, letting your breath come down to a natural pace as you relaxed from your wave of pleasure. 

You stood up, pushing down your skirt. You met your reflection in the large, gold framed mirror. Your hair was disheveled and a rosy glow painted your cheeks. You gave yourself a quiet laugh, thinking wistfully of the solo activity Dave York had just inspired. Your fingers caressed the soft, silky fabric of your skirt to smooth the wrinkles as best you could. You took one last glance at your watch, realizing you had just enough time to make it downstairs for the rest of the day's presentations. You left your room letting the door close gently behind you, hoping the pace of the afternoon moved faster than the morning. Begrudgingly, you knew the specter of Dave’s touch and breathy whisper would haunt you for the remainder of the day. 

✦✦✦

Somehow, you managed to survive the day without driving yourself crazy about what awaited you at 7:30 pm. Every inclination you had was to wear the sexiest outfit you owned, but that was impossible since it was hanging in your closet at home. The only option you had was a tawny colored, form fitting sweater dress you packed. You pulled it on over your head, shimmying the fabric down your body. Its luxurious fabric hugged your curves perfectly and despite it having long sleeves it clung to your cleavage, enhancing it in the most enticing way. 

You looked at yourself in the full-length mirror, satisfied and confident in your look. Your long waves fell like a waterfall down your back, your shortest waves kissing your clavicle. Your make-up was simple and served to enhance your favorite features. You stepped into a pair of cream colored booties with a little bit of a heel, knowing it would bring attention to the little peek of leg that would reveal itself through the knee slit on the right side of your dress. You bit your lip, your reflection staring back at you with a mischievous understanding of why you brought this outfit to a professional conference. 

This is the kind of outfit that would get you fucked. 

You carried that thought with you from your room to the elevator, and downstairs towards the bar. Head turns that turned into intense gazes in your direction gifted you with even more poise and tenacity as each step you took brought you closer and closer to the bar. Your eyes skimmed the bar, searching for Dave. Taking a seat at the bar, a little fleck of disappointment turned in you when you were unable to find him. 

“What can I get you?” The bartender asked.

“Scotch please,” you replied, “on the rocks.”

The bartender nodded and walked away to get a few more orders before bringing you your own. A sudden burst of self-consciousness washed over you as you waited for your drink. Upon the bartender’s return, he handed you your drink along with a knowing wink and a small slip of paper. The edges were clean and folded sharply, evidence of the meticulousness of the messenger. You laughed at yourself as you opened it wondering why you hadn’t exchanged numbers with Dave. Your professional mind took over and deduced that he simply didn’t want to be tracked. You talked yourself into thinking that this made sense for someone in the intelligence field. You took a long, large sip of courage from your glass before opening the note. Small, slanted print greeted you as you did:

I’m at the far corner to the right of the bar. 

You found him with your whole body, your eyes settling over him in the dark, isolated corner. Your eyes poured over every feature of him from his clean shaven face, to his Romanesque nose, to his intensely dark brown eyes which were staring right back at you. You walked towards him, unhurried, carrying your scotch in one hand and your handbag in the other. You approached the quiet and secluded booth for two. He never lost eye contact as he stood up to greet you, taking your scotch from your hand, sipping the remainder of it, before setting it down on the table. The coldest of shivers traveled through your body as he pulled you towards him with a gentle beckoning of his hand on your elbow. The shivers left you frozen as he brought his face close to yours, kissing you lightly on the cheek until you felt his lips brush against your ear. 

“Look at you,” he growled as you closed your eyes, feeling his hand roam to your right hip, where his fingers traced the curve of it with the lightest of touches, “getting pretty just for me.” 

You parted your peachy-pink lips to respond, but for the first time in your interactions with him you found yourself speechless. The feeling was so novel as though you were being hypnotized to succumb to his words and motions. 

“Don’t get too comfortable,” he stated, drawing you in with his wickedly attractive grin that had imprinted itself in your brain. “There’s a place I’m going to take you, somewhere more private.”

Dave was the kind of man people would warn you about. Your closest friends would tell you that he was a walking red flag if they knew. Any level-headed woman would and should know better. And then you thought to yourself: 

Maybe I just don’t care. 

You trembled with a charged excitement moving through you and arousing every cell in your body. It wasn’t a request. It wasn’t a demand. It was a simple and true statement. Both of you knew it. You would do anything he asked. 

“Ok,” you confirmed your gaze connecting indelibly to his, “take me.”

A rush of cold air bombarded you as you stepped out of the hotel. You cursed yourself, wondering why you hadn’t grabbed a coat from your room. Dave perused you up and down, admiring your figure before he took off his own thick coat and draped it around your shoulders. The unexpected, but calculated gesture made you shiver more at his touch than from the cold. After this he moved past you toward a black sedan, opening the door for you. 

Your dress stretched against your legs, giving Dave the perfect view of your right leg from the slit on the side of your dress. He followed you, joining you in the warmth of the car. Not a second had passed since you buckled yourself in and you immediately felt his immense hand slide onto your knee with a tight grip. With no knowledge of how long it would take to arrive wherever Dave was taking you, you placed your hand on top of his and began to slide his hand further up your leg. 

“You dirty, little slut,” he whispered to you with a growl, “are you gonna show me how wet you already are for me?”

“Dave,” you panted into his ear as you felt his fingers massage up your thigh, “the driver…”

From the side of your eye, you swore you could see the driver smirk when you whispered Dave’s name. Your breaths continued to quicken as his hand continued to rub up your thigh. 

“Don’t worry I pay him for discretion,” he uttered, and you could have moaned at the thought that this was all a well-executed plan. “Just give daddy one little taste.” 

You squeezed your thighs together before opening them again. His thick fingers rested on the lush skin of your inner thighs. His half-closed, ravenous eyes asked you again. 

Just one taste. 

And so, you opened for him feeling his fingers brush against the silky fabric of your underwear. You kept your eyes on him as his fingers met where the fabric had become dewy with your desire. You rolled your pelvis forward, eager, and desperate for him to do something. He raised one coy brow at you, caressing you and making the spot grow with your heat. That dangerous dimple revealed itself as he tempted you with a wanton grin. You needed more. You needed him to give you more. As soon as you moved your hand to grip his forearm, the car came to a quiet stop. You shuddered as he took his hand away from your thigh. You followed his every move as he brought his fingers to his lips, licking his fingertips. A little taste of you. 

“You taste sweet,” Dave growled, the vibrato making you quiver all the way down to your toes, “can’t wait to taste all of you.” 

Dave opened the door and reached his hand in to help you out. Once you were out of the car you used one hand to smooth out the bottom of your dress and the other to grip Dave’s jacket around your shoulders. The strong grip of his hands on your hips as he rocked his pelvis into your ass was so surprising that it made you gasp louder than the cold air meeting your bare skin.

“Fuck, Dave,” you whispered, “are you trying to kill me?” 

“Hm,” he paused in contemplation, “not if I don’t have to.” 

The two of you stood before a quaint little whiskey bar repurposed from an old Craftsman home. Globe lights danced on strings in the December air as you walked up the brick stairs. Inside, perfectly placed lights of amber and gold set the room aglow with warm luminescence and shadows. He had made a reservation. You shivered as he took his coat from your shoulders handing it to the hostess. How was he able to have this so elaborately planned? The feeling settled in your abdomen simultaneously vexing and intriguing. 

You followed the hostess to a quiet u-shaped booth situated at the back of the bar. Atop a round table made from knotted driftwood, stood a table sign with the word “reserved” written in modern calligraphy. You had barely taken your seat when a server came to your table with a bottle of Macallan rare cask and two empty whiskey glasses. 

“Wow, pulling out all the stops,” you said, mesmerized by the expensive whiskey selection that was poured into your glass right before your eyes. “You do this before you bed all your conquests?”

He grasped his chest with a feigned expression of heartbreak, “Oh if that’s all you were, I wouldn’t have wasted my time bringing you here knowing I could’ve had you begging me to come to your room the afternoon we met.” 

“And if I had wanted you there that night,” you stalled, gently biting your glossy lips, “we wouldn’t have left my room at all today.”

“And that, firefly,” he said with a tip of his glass towards yours, “is exactly why you’re more than just a conquest.”

It felt like a date but you didn’t want it to. The mess of feelings running inside you could have been easily curbed if you had just fucked him. You’d done it before, you could do it again. Fuck and forget.

“How did you get into intelligence, anyway?” He asked, relinquishing a deep sigh from you. “Because and, forgive me, you don’t seem the type.” 

“Meaning?” You furrowed your brow at the statement.

“Well, you’re hot for one thing,” he stated, provoking a laugh, “but you don’t bullshit; you’re sharp, calculating, even.”

You took a sip to ponder your response to his question.

“Well I was always good at everything computers,” you explained, “building them, taking them apart, and figuring out how they worked.” 

It felt so easy to be telling him your story. His eyes were rapt with attention 

“In high school I got good at hacking,” this reveal had him move in closer to you, “even better at getting away with it.”

It felt like you were being asked to access a file that was stored away in your backup hard drives. You never expected anyone to want to hear about your angsty, adolescent techno rebellion. 

“You know, it started small at first: messing with the school online newsletter, changing my friends’ grades,” you smiled as the sweet nostalgia took over you. “My best work though was getting a pervy teacher fired who’d made rapey comments to me and my friends.” 

“A vindictive streak,” he said admiringly as his hand took purchase on your knee. 

A jolt of excitement shot through you as he said those words, in the way he said them. Did he get off on that? Revenge. It wasn’t the best of your personality traits. 

A slow sip of the Macallan. 

“Karma’s a bitch,” you said dryly with a shrug.

An impressed grin. 

“My parents said I needed to channel my talent into something productive and lucrative,” you shrugged, “so here I am.”

“Here you are,” he was so close you could feel his breath on your lips as he spoke. 

It took only one look of his pouted lips for you to dive forward to kiss him. His tongue pushing your mouth open while his right hand pushed your hair back from your face. You gripped that hand leading it to the base of your neck. You pressed your hand on top of his, desperate to feel his strength imprint itself on you. The needy groan that escaped him as you did had you snickering with consuming gratification. Falling into each other with breathless desire, you let his mouth go but not before pulling his bottom lip with an eager bite.

“Bad girl,” he groaned, as he tugged you almost impossibly close to him, the heat that rose from both of you intertwining. “You get off on it don’t you? On not getting caught?”

Your heart hammered loudly in your ears as Dave’s hand glided up the slit of your dress. His fingers made quick work of finding the spot he had made wet in the car. Your cunt ached and drummed with anticipation for his touch. You swallowed a deep breath when you felt his thick fingers sweep over the fabric, teasing you as he used his finger tips to play at the edges. You nodded at him, with pleading eyes. 

“Let’s see how much you get off on it,” he growled his head pressed to yours as he slipped his fingers under the velvety soft fabric of your underwear. 

Your thoughts began to swirl in the rich amber of whiskey in your glass as his fingers rubbed at your entrance. You rolled your neck with a deep exhale before placing a secure hold on your glass with your left hand. The wave of exquisite sensation washed over you as you felt his finger glide inside you, finding your clit in a matter of seconds. You brought your glass to your lips, taking in a long sip of whiskey to obscure the moan that threatened to escape from your mouth. The slow burn of the whiskey paired with the sinuous ecstasy that formed from his was almost too much to bear. You could do nothing but roll your hips forward begging for more of his fingers with your body. 

“Firefly, you dirty, fucking slut,” he whispered to you through gritted teeth, “you fucking love this, don’t you?” 

Your hands gripped at the fabric of the bench beneath you, your brain barely registering what he had just said. All you could concentrate on was your desperate attempt to slow your ever-quickening breaths. 

“Answer me,” he demanded in the quietest whisper while tortuously denying you the attention his fingers were giving your clit.

“Yes--I, I love it,” you whimpered

Your body ignited with a luxurious heat at each touch of his fingers at your core. You felt yourself surrendering to him as he continued the deep ministrations within your body, worshiping your clit. 

“You fucking love that you’re about to come right here in public,” he growled his nose pressed to the side of your face, his lips brushing against your earlobe. “I was a fucking stranger to you yesterday and now you love how I already know how to make you come undone. You’ve never felt this good before have you?”

Jesus, fuck. You thought to yourself as you nodded. True. It was all true. 

He rocked his pelvis towards you, his fingers moving relentlessly. “Fucking answer me, firefly.”

“I’ve never felt this good, Dave,” you wanted to cry.

“Good,” he said, his voice gravelly and low, “you wanna come now, baby?”

“Please.” 

With another sinful grin, he crooked his fingers inside you, bracing you with the weight of his body. And you came undone, your entire body trembling and the quietest moan escaping your lips as you clenched around his fingers. You reached out for your glass to drink the last bit of whiskey. You breathed out a long, slow exhale feeling the burn and bliss of the whiskey and your orgasm. 

“You’re so fucking good for me,” he groaned as he released his fingers from your center. 

A gasp vibrated out of your throat, and you relaxed back into him. Everything around you looked hazy with delight, like a dream sequence in a film. You watched as Dave licked his fingers, savoring the taste of you that left its mark there. You felt your pussy clench again at the eroticism of the moment, of how good he must be with his mouth and tongue, and how big his cock must be. You tip-toed your fingers to his pants, cupping his bulge, feeling it grow in the palm of your hand. 

“It’s time we get out of here, firefly,” he spoke with the stoic conviction of a man ready to complete the most important mission he’s ever been given. 

“What are you going to do with me?” You leaned to him, whispering your delicately chosen words into his ear. 

He turned to you, his stare low and focused with lust, “I’m going to make you mine, possess this cunt in ways you’ve only dreamed of.” 

You smiled with satisfaction as though you’d been waiting a lifetime for someone to growl those words at you. He stood up and your gaze poured over his entire body as he pulled out his wallet, leaving a wad of bills on the table that you assumed as far more than the cost of whiskey. He held out a hand to you and you laughed like it was a joke, knowing well you didn’t need or want the feigned gentlemanly gesture. You gathered his jacket around your shoulders again to protect yourself from the biting air.  He slipped one possessive hand beneath the bottom of his jacket to grip your ass and then your waist, holding you close to him the entire, short ride back to the hotel.

[kaidanworkshop]

Workshop Progress: Post Summer Update

Hello Workshop followers! We've been hard at work over the last few weeks separating and voting on the second set of lines from our VA, as well as completing another commissionship session with Mr. Warren this past Sunday. While usually we feature the work being completed by all three teams separately, we'll be summarizing the current state of the mod in a single long post for this update; as we approach the finish line in wrapping up the framework rebuild, more and more of our staff are working with the CK & Assets team to assist with build testing and finalizing various features.

So firstly, the benchmarks we're most proud of:

All assets have officially been replaced with high texture models! Everything from Kaidan's physical appearance, to his armor and weapons, to the little cherry tree you can marry him under, have been updated.

The CK & Assets Team have completed their rebuild on all but two quest frameworks -- specifically for his personal quest 'Blood and Fire' and his Mehrunes Dagon quest commentary. Our nickname, pronoun, and outfit systems are all functional as well. All of these quests are now ready for line implementation and beta testing.

As of our most recent VA session, we are officially over 50% done with the total script revoice, with 836 lines out of the original 1400 projected lines recorded. The final total of lines will fluctuate a bit to accommodate the extra lines being added for the aforementioned new systems, as well as the new platonic Autumnwatch acquisition route, but it shouldn't be by very much. We will update the community with a final total in a future 'community receipt' post detailing our full business expenditures.

We continue to operate solidly under budget! Using the formula outlined in our budget breakdown post, we have enough money for approximately 7 1/2 hours of Mr. Warren's services ($1885/$250), but the remaining scripts should be completed in approximately 5 hours. As we get closer to our final sessions with Mr. Warren and the final total for that budget surplus becomes more concrete, we will be able to hash out the details of what else the community can vote to have added in the 1.0 launch. You can read about a few of those ideas here, but feel free to submit your own ideas via our inbox or on our Discord.

So what's next on our plate?

Completing the last of the framework rebuild

Continued line implementation as voting and splicing permits, as well as necessary subtitle corrections and emotive animations to match the new lines

Staff bug and beta testing to tweak new system functionality, as well as editorial reviews by the Writing Team to tweak in-game journal updates and other miscellaneous text

Finalization of new dialogue for acquisition of Autumnwatch

Scheduling our final 2 - 3 VA sessions (woo!)

Getting distracted by Baldur's Gate 3

Our Community Team will be setting up another series of livestreams to feature lines from our third commission in the coming weeks. This round of scripts included his commentary on the main quest & factions (College of Winterhold, the Companions, etc), the dialogue associated with gifting him books and having him read some of them back, as well as his personal quest involving Shadowgreen Cavern.

Thank you again for all of your continued interest and support!

[dispatchvampire]

Radio Free Bucky - Bucky x Fem!OC

Pairing: Bucky x OC (in progress)

Warnings: Fluff, mild angst, casual swearing, smut in later chapters

Series Summary: A bunch of interrelated  of fluffy ficlets about Bucky and Penelope. Strangers in the night, tenuously connected by the past, finding their way together a little at a time.

Chapter Summary: In which Bucky has a birthday and someone unexpected knows about it.

It was his birthday, but he’d kept the proceedings low key. Dinner with Sam and his family, some cake, before retiring to the fixer-upper he’d bought not far from their family homestead so he had a place to stay in Delacroix  that wasn’t the front room couch when he came down. That’s really all he had the mental and emotional space for these days.

The soft patter of rain on the roof and windows droned in the background as he worked on the birdhouse Sarah had asked him to. Sam’s sister was a sweetheart, very unlike her brother, and he had no problem giving in to any and all requests from her and her boys. They did love them some Uncle Bucky. 

A memory of a warm summer afternoon on the bayou made him smile as Chet Baker’s smooth voice crooned about falling in love too easily, just a shade louder than the downpour. As much as Sam gave him shit for it, Bucky liked what he liked, and he wasn’t ashamed. It was good music. 

He’d found this satellite radio station one day online, looking for god knows what now, but it had been a revelation. A whole channel devoted to 40’s music, and it was like the universe was giving him a bit of comfort after kicking the hell out of him for so long. 

The soulful trumpet at the end of the song faded into the gathering shadows in his workshop.

“That was Chet Baker on vocals and trumpet there, and I think that might be my favorite song of his. It’s ten past eight here on the east coast, and this is 40s Junction.” 

Just hearing her voice made Bucky smile. It was warm, knowing, with a spark of humor that made him wonder if her actual smile was as nice as what he pictured in his head. And, to be fair, he’d pictured her a bit.  

This woman, the only female DJ at the station near as he could tell, was a nightly companion as he worked on his projects and unwound at the end of the day. Hearing tiny snippets of her life, and how joyfully she related to the music that was clearly way too old to be current for her, made him feel a little less alone in the world. It was an unusual feeling and he’d started to enjoy it. 

“Now, I know I promised you all I’d get to some Ella Fitzgerald this hour, but…” she trailed off and he turned his head to look at his phone like he expected to see her there, with a mischievous grin. “I wanted to take a moment to share something with you all. Today’s a special day in my family. It’s a tradition my Pawpaw started way back in 1945.

“I’m sure you all have guessed by now that he’s the reason I’m here with you, five nights a week from four to midnight. He was my best friend growing up and I miss him terribly. 

He served in the Army in Italy, with the 107th Infantry Regiment.” Bucky carefully set his work aside as his fingers went numb. 

“You history buffs probably recognize the unit, but for those that don't, that’s Captain America’s outfit, and my grandfather was Gabe Jones, one of the original Howling Commandos. 

“Today is March 10th, the birthday of one of my Pawpaw’s fallen comrades in arms, Bucky Barnes. For years, on this day, he’d raise a glass and tell us about the man who saved his life more than once. A man who gave him a reason to go on, to keep fighting, even when all seemed hopeless. Whose death marked his young life indelibly. You get the picture. 

“He’d raise a glass and ask us to remember the fallen and their families, and to help those still around us carry on. After the Blip, I’m sure a lot of us can relate to those sentiments.” Her sigh held paragraphs he didn’t need a translation for. 

“Anyway, long story short, it feels weird to say that Bucky isn’t dead, as Pawpaw informed us, but I’m celebrating his day just the same. I’d like to think he’s having a good 107th birthday, out there, somewhere. 

“As for me, I raise a glass to him, and all the boys who served.” She paused and he could faintly make out the sounds of ice cubes hitting glass. “And with an extra sip for those who didn’t make it home. Happy Birthday, Sergeant Barnes, wherever you are. Now, here’s Ella, serving up some Black Coffee.” 

Bucky’s gasp when the music kicked back in told him that at some point he’d lost air, and even though he was breaking currently, the lump in his throat was throttling him slowly. Of all the things… so many thoughts in his head, fragments of memories, imaginings. Abandoning his workbench entirely, he shuffled across the room to toss himself down onto the couch in the now mostly-dark. 

He could see Gabe’s face in his mind like it was yesterday. Easy smile, quick wit, brilliant mind. Gabriel Jones had been a good man, and it warmed Bucky’s heart to know he’d gone on to come home, have a family, and that he kept the joy in his life. 

The tender affection in her voice when she spoke of her grandfather said more than any words could ever. That was the true measure of a man, the love of those left behind.

There was a voice in his head, one that sounded annoyingly like Dr. Rainor’s, whispering that he was well-remembered by those he’d left behind too, and that meant something. To them, to the world. It was a voice quickly snuffed out by the knowledge that while that may have been true at the time, a whole encyclopedia of lifetimes had transpired between then and now, and his worthiness of that sentiment, no matter how well-intended, well… it was more worn than not. 

Still, it warmed his heart a little to know that he was thought of fondly, and by his DJ-crush of all people, even if it was a strange coincidence. How could it not? He may have still been getting used to this time, but having that moment, that connection no matter how brief, felt like a much-needed hug in a world that has offered him precious little in the way of comfort. 

For a second, he could just close his eyes in the gathering darkness and let the music and rain rhythm wash over him, like a baptism of time, washing him clean once more. For a second, he could just… be. And it was enough

[fandombead]

Sanders Sides human AU where they’re all camp counselors at some backwoods Alphabet soup upstate summer camp—

Camp Sandside

Also locally known as Camp Mindscape

C!Thomas is the newest camp director trying to keep the camp funded and running every year. He advertises and keeps in touch with people who help everything work out each year.

Logan is head of schedule and morning role call. He makes sure camp has an educational side to it, so they have something to take away. He enjoys accompanying on the nature hikes and takes their slightly older campers stargazing. You can find him usually hanging out in the camp archives and he can answer any question about its history.

He coordinates camper activities with Patton, who is the poster child for Campy Dad-Counselor™️. Patton knows every campfire song ever how to make 477 different crafts from sticks and rocks you can find in the forest. He is good at wrangling the kids and making any activity fun so everyone gets included. He’s excited to be there every day. He’s been there the longest and has dappled in every other job as needed.

Remus runs all the sport activities and Roman throws together a little theater group production for the parents at the end of the summer. Both twins help each other out for those activities depending on whose day it is. They also keep up the Canteen and craft workshop. They tell the best campfire stories. (Fun fact: they went to this camp as kids and are working here now during college)

Virgil’s shadowing Patton with first aid as a trainee nurse and handles safety protocols/checks. He’s just stressed out trying to keep everyone alive till the end of the summer. He particularly sticks around at the sport fields, lake, and obstacle course. He barely sleeps and runs on caffeine and spite. He enjoys playing guitar for the kids at campfire time. He makes sure everyone wears sunscreen, is drinking enough water, and that no one wanders off from the group.

And not least of all, Janus, who is the mental health counselor and resolves incident cases between campers. He also is someone the other camp counselors can confide in because the job is draining. He makes sure everyone is taking care of themselves and not doing too much, short-staffed as they are. Camp has run much more smoothly since they added him to their team and everyone is happier for it after getting used to the changes.

They all really enjoy the work and each other. What started as an interesting, versatile summer job that let them hangout together turned into a fun tradition they were quite invested in. Every summer is a memorable one and they look forward to it every year.

I just think it’d be a fun story setting, a series of glimpses at camp life with chapters dedicated to silly or fun happenings at the camp. For some reason all that are coming to me is chapters that sound like history event logs and just imagine it’s because the twins hijacked Logan’s documentation of them and rewrote them with more flair and drama. The Hiking Disaster of 21’. Battle at…Vine Lake (okay maybe not the name but I WILL work Vine in somewhere—maybe that’s the name of the theatre). The Kayak Wars. Surviving the Storm. Bear-ly Active.

(Actually half the chapters will be puns and you’ll know Patton had a hand at assisting the twins’ shenanigans for those retellings~)

Depending on the number of campers, they might also each be head of a cabin and in charge of 3-5 campers specifically on top of everything else that they manage to make good connections with even the most unlikely campers by the end of the summer. (I mostly thought of this just because I wanted an excuse for Logan to be head of the ‘Crofters Cabin’ bwahahaha)

I want Campy adventures!!!

Side notes expanding on the AU bc I have tons of scattered ideas:

I also had the alternative (/prequel? With a few tweaks) idea where some or all of them are campers instead and they meet at the summer camp years before they decide to work there~ ^^

I think that’d be a great story too, where they become lifelong friends in the end and grow to be glad they got sent to this weird old camp for the summer and just have a great time after getting through a few challenges. And they go back every year to see each other again.

Patton calls the campers “saplings” and other nature/tree related nicknames

Their camp shirts have a white star border in black incorporated on the front with the Camp Acronym and everyone styles theirs differently (example: Remus cut the short sleeves off of his)

I imagine they have a rival camp too that every one of them is personally invested in beating yearly, as you do in Camp media. (Alt version where it’s “light” vs “dark” sides camps)

Logan got stuck up a tree once as a kid camper and they still haven’t let him live it down. There’s a photo of it in the archives he keeps trying to get rid of but someone keeps replacing it every year. They call him Pinecone and Lookout 🤣 (Forest Watch)

Janus was someone they never expected to see again. He came to camp in their last years of being campers and joined the group through Remus and Patton. After some getting used to him (Roman and Virgil kept butting heads with him), they were tentatively friends…Roman saved him when he fell in the lake and Janus came in clutch and saved their team at the camp games! they kinda took one step back when he joined as counselor, but they worked it out eventually for good that time~

The twins have a fun rivalry they try to drag their friends into every year…even as counselors now 😂 there’s always some sort of competition going on with them, especially when they start being heads of their own cabins and take pride in their little campers destroying the other teams (but especially each others’)

I think each cabin has a little flag the campers remake every year hanging out front, featuring the animal trait and color of each counselor in charge. Tentative Ideas:

Logan’s Cabin: Team Crofter (of Discovery Cabin). Campers have dark blue bandannas/necklaces

Patton’s Cabin: Team Friendship (of Amity/Compassion Cabin). Campers have light blue bandannas/bracelets

Roman’s Cabin: Team Braveheart (of Ambition Cabin). Campers have red bandannas/necklaces

Remus’s Cabin: Team Chaos (of Endeavor/Spontaneity Cabin). Campers have green bandannas/bracelets

Virgil’s Cabin: Team Storm (of Vigilance Cabin). Campers have purple bandannas/necklaces

Janus’s Cabin: Team Serpent (of Accord/Cunning Cabin). Campers have yellow bandannas/bracelets

They collabed on these name ideas themselves~ The twins’ cabins also relate to one another.

Roman’s theme is having goals and dreams and Remus’s theme is trying ways to reach them, not giving up when it doesn’t work the first time. Together they encourage campers to find something they wanna try that’s new and going for it~

You can probably pair Virgil and Logan’s cabins + Janus and Patton’s in a similar way of their themes relating or balancing each other.

Every year you return to camp, you get a charm to add to your bracelet/necklace (typically all moved to whatever cabin color you are for the current year’s summer). Represents the overall theme of that summer, received at the end.

[tamiveldura]

WIP Title Tag Game

Thanks to @shukei-jiwa for the tag!

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Aaaahahaha, this is an amazing game because I have SO MUCH STUFF accumulated. Please ask me about any of it. (Fair warning, I might hold your ask for another week or two, my deadline crunch is Almost Done)

I think I'm going to limit this to a list of projects I have on the production schedule through the end of this year. That's a lot of things on its own.

📚 Active WIP: A series of short stories for submission that I can't go into detail about, will talk more in August about this. Check my Anthology Workshop tag for bits and pieces.

Production List

July:

☀️ Uncollected Summer Solstice - untitled UF short story in my Bone Witch series

💀 BSQ #28 - SF horror short in my HORNETS series

August:

🧚 A Procession Of Faeries - Fantasy short story

🌲 Holiday Hijinks - holiday possibly fantasy? I wonder if Lyn will take the first Mischief story for this ? Gotta check the call for subs. Short story.

🎃 A Gathering Of Stories - Halloween themed Antho. I'll probably do a Bone Witch short story for this

🩸 Vampire Submitted (Blood Wars Series #2) - novella, vampire M/M/M/M/M why choose

September:

🚀 BSQ #29 - first contact, probably a Maj and The Outlaws short story

🪄 Uncollected: Ethereal Entertainment - UF short in my Bone Witch world

October:

🩸 PNR Anthology (maybe, I haven't seen a call for subs yet) - romance short, might write a Blood Wars prequel for this, which I already have an inciting incident for

🔫 BSQ #30 - Fading Empires, short either HORNETS or Maj

🩸 Vampire Exposed (blood wars #3) - novella, vampire M/M/M/M/M why choose

***

And November/December are blocked off for craft study, reading, and Admin work. I'll restart in January with my first deadline not until April. Looking forward to making that difference stretch. No more close deadlines.

I have production planned out til the end of 2027, the list is BIG. And these are projects I've committed to. This doesn't even touch the floating soup of undefined ideas I keep off to the side.

Tagging: @amaiguri @abookishdreamer @willtheweaver @that-floating-ghost-key @anthrolindias @moondust-bard @juggling-plasticplates @thoushallwrite @insomniac-frog @leahnardo-da-veggie @wyked-ao3 @thatuselesshuman @a-mimsy-borogove @illarian-rambling @nonbinarynotetaker @lefferon

If you've already done this tag game I tag you to pick a new tag game from the open tag and do that one! Tag me back!