#your website is not a brochure

[paulmoond]

Starting a business can be difficult. It is common for new and small business owners to find themselves in the marketing role and quickly becoming overwhelmed.

[hua-fei-hua]

*squints out the window at the morning sun* it is Imperative that i be adopted by more femslashers

[gremlingottoosilly]

Deaf!Reader are struggling to earn money to pay off their rent and living expenses, by handing out leaflets on the street X Mafia!Konig

(one time, I was walking past the metro, and there was this lady handing out leaflets to men. I wanted to take the leaflet as well because I always wanted to help the people who were handing it out, but she looked at me super weirdly when I took the leaflet. Turns out, it was a leaflet for illegal prostitution sites (sex work is banned in Czech Republic) You just needed money. The disability payments are dogshit and wouldn't even cover half of the expenses of renting your own place - but all the other jobs are basically blocked to you on the basis of not having enough resources to support a deaf worker. You know it's just their saying, they simply don't want to hire you even for brownie diversity points - but still, the only jobs that you could get without much of an education is something as shitty paying as handing leaflets. At least you can just not read the lips of people who are clearly cussing you out for bothering them with an abysmal task of accepting a thing piece of paper. Only, the gig is just a bit too shitty. It's illegal; technically, sex work is still as banned as always - you stare at the leaflets with half-naked women printed all over, disguised as dating websites, and you want to puke over how fucking terrible it looks. Still, they were paying a bit more than usual, and cops won't bother you as long as it's not a direct sex work endorsement. The people on the streets are having weird reactions, however... Konig had a shitty day and an even more annoying night. Having to oversee a big drug deal himself because Horangi was out dealing with some transgressors, and Krueger can't be trusted with customer service, he had to stay awake at ungodly hours just to finish the deal...and now there is some dumb girl handling him a leaflet for his fucking sex business like she doesn't know who he is and can't hear that he said he doesn't want it three times already and- He notices the way you stare at his lips and ignore the yelling of other people crowding around during rush hour at the station. Oh. Konig guesses even the illegal business of his had to get more open for workers with disability...although he looks at your cute lips and just knows he is ready to promote you from handling leaflets to never holding anything heavier than his hand (and his cock) ever again. Needless to say, you were terrified when this big, grumpy man in a suit just fucking grabbed you hand and pushed you into an unmarked and clearly dangerous-looking vehicle. Of course, sometimes people are annoyed at receiving brochures, but not to the point of kidnapping...and certainly not to the point of bringing you to their lap and then forcing a hand between your legs, squeezing and playing with the flesh like you were nothing but a stress toy. Not being able to read his lips since you were pressed so closely to him, terrified you even more...although his intensions are pretty clear when you felt a kiss pressed to your forehead, and a gentle hold on your neck until you finally passed out in his hands.

[deathdetermineslife]

will you make a pt2 of “fun things you can do when you have an f/o” ? i rlly like that post!

for you, anon, (because I honestly didn't realize anyone cared about my account or posts that much!);

fun things you can do when you have an f/o! (part 2)

compile an amazon list or pinterest board of clothes they would wear!

if you're able, buy snacks you think they would enjoy!

name a stuffed animal after them or name a stuffed animal something you think they would name it.

make yourself a sticky note as if they made it (like a doodle, a simple 'i love you', or something silly!)

if your f/o has a particular interest, look into it! study it, if you'd like!

take quizzes as if you were them. could be something serious, or something silly you find on uquiz.

if your f/o is romantic and you would want to have children with them, pick out baby names! compile a pinterest board of baby clothes or toys you and your f/o would purchase together.

build you and your f/os dream home in a building game (like minecraft or the sims)

plan out a vacation of somewhere you'd want to go with your f/o. maybe you could make a Google slides "brochure" to convince them to go.

if your f/o has a canon perfume or cologne they wear, or alternatively, their source created one for them (primaniacs website has a long list of series they've made scents for!) put the scent notes into fragranticas "search by notes" feature to find a dupe, or make one yourself you think theyd wear!

compile a list of flowers you'd think (or know) your f/o likes, make them into a bouquet and maybe look up the meanings for each flower.

compile a list of bath and body works candles or body lotions your f/o would buy!

(my apologies if I repeated any of these! I'll try to make a part three, I didn't realize the other one had almost 1000 notes! also, if anyone has an specific suggestions, "what about a list of things you can do when you have xyz kind of f/o", hit up my asks and I will attempt to deliver!)

[k4marina]

— Prologue: Dragonstone|| Heart of the Dragon

synopsis: a trip to Dragonstone goes a little wrong, or does it?

game of thrones x modern!reader

4.5k+ word count

sereis masterlist || next part

"Why are we doing this during the hottest day of the year, again?" Daeron mutters, using the brochure that was given to us at the beginning of the tour as a fan.

If I could, I would've replied, but the heat was also getting to me, draining away my energy. And, on top of the scorching heat, I'd just finished the last of my water. I pursed my lips together, the line wasn’t that long and I’m sure I can buy another overpriced water bottle after we visited the caves.

The group tour guide turned back to us, just as exhausted, and somewhat bashful. He said something, but I couldn't be bothered with it as I was too focused to not tip over from the heat. It was probably something like “only a few more minutes and we’ll be outta the heat, folks,” with an awkward smile or something.

The line to the caves under the castles was stupidly long, but it's no surprise. So much history was in those caves and so many mysteries had come full circle there. And, the deeper they dug, the more they uncovered the history of the Targaryens that lived there from when Aenar Targaryen moved his entire family to Dragonstone after his daughter, Daenys “the Dreamer” dreamed of the Doom of Valyria. 

"Who's idea was it to come here for our research trip?" I didn't bother looking over at him, knowing that I'd be blinded by the sun that shone directly behind his big head.

“Shut up. Your voice is giving me a headache.” I quipped. “Besides, almost everything on this island is connected to the Targaryens. It might come useful when we have to write our research paper.”

The line moved up until our group was at the front of the line. A small group of students, along with Daeron and I, were on Dragonstone for our research projects. Some of the other students had decided to stay in Kings Landing or go to other parts of Westeros for their research.

Everyone was to spend a week in their respective areas and gather all the information they needed before heading back to Kings Landing to write and then later present their topics. Some chose to do it themselves whilst others, like us, decided to go with someone else.

Today was the first day of our stay on Dragonstone. Daeron and I had decided to check out the caves and the island's beaches before we would explore the labyrinth-like castle.

I rubbed the side of my head, feeling a headache approaching. My hand reached up to my necklace that rested on my chest. The chain was long enough for it to hang in the dip of my breast.

Not only did I come here for my project, but also for me. The necklace around my neck has been in my family for generations, but no one knows from where. It’s made entirely of Valyrian Steel, which was rare back in the day, and even rarer now.

As a child, I didn’t think much of it. It wasn’t until I grew older and more curious that I started asking questions. First to my family, but all I got was even more confusing answers that led me nowhere. Then I turned towards the internet, scouring for hours until I had found it.

On the official Dragonstone website, I found pictures of the caves under the castle and possibly under the entire island. On one of the walls was a crude hand drawing of my necklace. Two dragons around a sword with a ruby in the middle –though, the ruby was replaced with a red dot. Regardless, the cave painting matched. 

The line moved up and Daeron gently pushed me up while I was lost in my thoughts. “You good?” He asks. I nod, “Yeah. The heat’s just a lot.” He gives an understanding look. Once the tour guide is given the green light, he begins to lead up to the entrance of the cave.

"Ready?" Daeron asks. I nodded and we begin walking. Once we entered the cave, my jaw was on the floor. I had seen pictures of the caves, but seeing it in real life was far more beautiful.

The deeper we got we could see the cave paintings done by the Children of the Forest which Daenerys and Jon had found. As the guide droned on about the cave paintings, I could feel my headache intensify. Why was it so hot in here? 

The deeper and deeper we went into the caves, the worse it got. My chest started to feel heavy. I struggled to put one foot in front of the other. The back of my throat burned and I felt like throwing up, but I pushed forward. 

My eyes raked the the cave walls, Where was it? Finally, I was able to see it. The markings were next to a few unknown ones. A sign with some information was hung up next to it. Despite my head pounding I was still able to read the bold words. 

Unknown markings made by who researchers believe are the Targaryens. The paint used seemed to be as old as when Aenar Targaryen moved his family to Dragonstone.

By the time I finished reading, I could feel my head pounding so loudly in my ear. It felt like an ice pick was being hammered into the side of my head. I could hear muffled voices call out, but to who I didn’t know. The room started to spin and a ringing sound filled my ears.

A hand, most likely Derons, reached out and turned me around. I could see his mouth moving, but no words coming out. My chest felt like it was overheating while my head continued to throb. Everything turned blurry and then it went black.

When I woke up, I was still in the cave. The cold stone floor had helped with bringing my body temperature down. And, my head didn't hurt anymore. After getting up, I looked around the cave. It was darker, and quiet.

Where was everyone?

Carefully, I made my way out of the cave. It was harder to walk out of the cave and the spotlights that were on the walls weren’t on. Once I was outside I was met with the night sky.

All the tents and other buildings around the beach were gone, as if they'd never been there.

Okay, this is weird.

"Hello?" My voice came out horse like I hadn’t spoken in a long time. "Hello? Is anyone there? Daeron?" 

My feet moved on their own and I tried to find someone, anyone. But there was no one. How could a populated area with tents and buildings disappear within hours?

Retracing my steps, I found the stairs that would lead me back to the Help Center that were posted around for lost tourists, but like the beach, there was nothing. Matter a fact, even the lamppost that were posted into the ground, the banners, the signs –everything was gone.

"What the actual fuck?" Panic creeped up and I could feel my heart thumping in my ears. "Gods, If this is some kinda sick fucking joke..."

At this point, I was running towards the castle. For what? I didn't know, but surely there had to be something there. The grand doors seemed to be closed so I tried to find another way in. I guess you could say I found something like a side door that took a little force to open. 

The inside of the castle was grand. High walls, banners held high, candles and lamps lit all around. Truly, it was amazing. As I was gawking at the architecture I failed to notice unknown voices walking towards me. 

“Halt!” Two unknown men dressed in what looked like armor cornered me, pointing their spears at me. “State your name! Who are you?” 

I stuttered out my name, raising my hands up so they could see I wasn’t a threat. “I’m not going to do anything, I swear.” 

The two men shared a look and a few hushed words before one of them walked over to me, grabbing my arm roughly and pulling me along. 

“Ow!” I tried to pull back, but his grip was too strong. “What the fuck dude. I said I wasn’t a threat.”

“Khaleesi will decide if you are or are not a threat.” The man who wasn’t holding onto me said. 

Khaleesi? What Khaleesi?

“Oh please don’t tell me I just walked into those real-life roleplaying things.” I groaned, earning side eyes from both of the men. 

They led me down a series of hall ways, each one intricate as the other until we stood outside of a set of polished stone double doors. Another pair of men dressed just like the cosplayers that brought me here stood in front of the doors. Without having to say any words they opened the grand doors. 

Slowly, I could see the inside being revealed. 

There, on the elevated platform stood the Throne of Dragonstone, where all the Targaryen heirs of the Iron Throne sat as they took the title “Prince of Dragonstone.” A light push brought me back as I was dragged closer to the throne. 

“Khaleesi,” the guard called out. Before I could ask who they were speaking to, an unknown voice answered. 

“What is it?” 

Light footsteps were heard from behind a wall and a woman emerged from behind it. Except it wasn’t just any woman. Even a child would know who she was. Everyone around the world knows her. 

She was Daenerys Targaryen. 

Mother of Dragons. 

The Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea.

The Unburnt.

The Breaker of Chains. 

I could feel time slow down as I watched her walk over to the throne and sit down. My blood turned cold as she sat in front of me. 

No.

No.

She’s dead.

This can’t be happening.

It’s not possible.

It’s not. I have better chances of reviving dragons than traveling back in time-

“What is this?” Daenerys eyed me, confused at my appearance and why I was even here before looking at the two men. 

“We found this unknown woman wandering around the castle, Your Grace.” 

She eyed me, as if wanting me to plead my case, but the words died in my throat. Why wouldn’t they when Daenerys fucking Targaryen was right in front of me. A million thoughts ran through my head, but I couldn’t rack my brain to find one answer. 

Daenerys squinted before speaking again, this time directly towards me. “Who are you?” The High Valyrian rolled easily off of her tongue like a true Targaryen. Those three words held so much power and conviction, like a true Queen.

“Y/n Vellarys!…” I rushed to reply in Valyrian. 

“You speak good Valyrian.” She praises, but it's quickly pushed away. “But that doesn’t explain what you are doing here.”

What should I do? I bit my bottom lip as nervousness filled my body. 

Knowing that if I lie, I’ll be fileted, I took a deep breath before responding. “I don't know. I.. I,” I paused, not knowing if I should continue. If this was real then I only wanted her to know, “Can we be alone.. please?” 

The two men besides me visibly tense up, but don’t speak up. Daenerys looks down at us, seemingly in thought before she nodded. The two men bow before turning around to leave. The double doors closed with a loud thud. 

“We’re alone now, you may continue.” 

I nervously swallowed. Here we go. “This might sound weird, but.. I don’t know how I got here. I.. I woke up in the caves under the castle… alone.”

Daenerys’ face stayed neutral as I relayed the information. She seemed to take some time to process what I had just said. “Do you think I’m a fool?” 

I could feel my heart fall all the way down. Fuck.

“You woke up in the caves alone?” She repeats. “Not even a child would come up with such a stupid story like this.”

“N-n-no, Daener- I mean, Your Grace. I swear to the Gods that I’m telling the truth. I have no reason to lie to you. Especially when you could get rid of me with your dragons in a second.”

She seemed to mull over my words, as if weighing her options. “Alright, let's say you’re telling the truth. Your story still doesn’t make sense. How do you just “wake up” in a cave?” 

Now or never, I guess. 

“Actually,” I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. “I’m not from here. I come from-” The future. Fucking hell, how cliché. “-I come from a different… time.” 

Daenerys squinted and I could see the clogs in her brain moving. “You mean you’re from the future?” 

Jeez. Ripped the bandage right off. 

“Well –uh, yes,” I say. “I was touring the caves and then I –I fell unconscious or something, I still don’t know, I just know that when I woke up I ended up here.” 

I let out a frustrated sigh. What if this was just a dream and that all of this is just my imagination running wild. 

“That necklace.” 

Huh? What is she talking about? 

 I looked up, confused. “What?” 

She pointed towards my chest. I looked down and I could see my necklace was out. “What about it?” I asked.

“Where did you get it?” 

“It’s mine.” I replied. “It’s been in my family for generations. Why?” 

Now it was Daenerys’ turn to look a little nervous. 

“I’ve seen it in my dream.”

“Your dream? Like, one of those Dragon Dreams?” I ask. She gives a nod, “While we were sailing to Dragonstone I had a dream of a woman with silver hair and that necklace. Because I couldn’t see her face, I thought it was me. I’ve turned the treasury over looking for them; however, it seems that I dreamt of you.”

Ho-ly Fuck. Daenerys’ dreamt about me. What the hell. I’m about to throw up. 

“What?” Now it was my time to be skeptical of what was being said. “You dreamt about me and my necklace?”

She nodded. “It seems odd, but a Dragon Dream has never been wrong.”

“Ture, but that still leaves a lot of blanks.” My hand subconsciously went up to hold my necklace while I tried to think back. 

The deeper I walked into the cave the more my head started to hurt, but that was most likely because of dehydration… probably. But then there was a burning feeling on my chest when I looked at the symbol on the wall that matched my necklace and the burning feeling got even more intense and it felt like it was about to burn my skin-

“Fuck.” I groaned, letting go of the necklace. The outburst made Daenerys frown, “Are you alright?”

I looked down at my hands and at my necklace before looking into her eyes. “I think my necklace tried to burn me, like last time.” 

“Last time?” She frowned. “How can a necklace burn someone?”

“I don’t know. It happened before I passed out in the cave.” I let out a sigh. “Gods, what is going on.” 

“It seems that this was the God's doing,” Daenerys says, as if it was a fact. “They’ve brought you here.” 

“The Gods?” I repeat. Sure, in some sense they did bring me here. “But why?” 

“That may be something for you to find out.” Daenerys stood from the throne, walking down the steps until she was right in front of me. “I was lost once, but then the Gods gifted me my children to show me my true purpose.” 

“The Iron Throne.” I thought back to my history classes where I learned that for the fight for the Iron Throne, Daenerys lost her life as she fell into what historians said was “Targaryen Madness,” but I’ve always felt that there’s more to it. 

“It’s late, I’ll have the servants bring you to a spare room for you to rest in for the night.” As if on cue, the guards from before stepped up to us. “We can talk further tomorrow morning.”

Daenerys turned to leave from where she came from. The guards bowed as she left. Once she was gone they brought me to a spare room somewhere in the castle, this time without having to pull me around. 

The hallways were nearly empty, meaning there weren’t a lot of people living here or servants working in the castle. The most I’d seen was guards posted around. Once we were in front of two thick double doors the guards stepped back waiting for me to open them. 

It took a little force to open the door, but once I was inside, my jaw was on the floor. Despite everything being made of stone, the walls were covered in rich tapestry. There was a giant bed with lavish looking furs laid atop the bed and maroon bed sheets. 

Behind me, a servant walked in with a few sets of clothes and laid them on the bed. “We’ve prepared you some clothes,” she said. “Would you like to change now or take a bath?” 

As if on cue, I could feel how dirty I was since I was practically on the cave floors for Gods knows how long. 

“A bath would be fine, thank you,” I replied. It honestly felt weird watching servants work. Not that it was bad, just the fact that in the modern day you don’t have them. Sure maybe someone who cleans your home or makes you food, but servants?

Once they had pulled out the massive tub and manually poured in the hot water they led me to the tub. One of their hands went up to my shirt's edge and the other to my pants. 

“W-wait!” They all looked at me confused. 

“Is everything alright, My Lady?” One of the servants asked. 

No it’s not. You’re taking my clothes off. And sure, it’s your job to do practically everything for a highborn, but that ain’t me. 

“Uh, there’s no need for… all of this. I can do it myself.” 

“Are you sure?” Another girl asked. “It’s our duty to serve you.” 

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure.” I replied awkwardly. “Just not really used to all of… this. Um, anyways I can take it from here. You guys can go…” 

I internally cringed at my words. Gods, I sounded like an idiot, but could you blame me? 

The girls reluctantly agreed, leaving me alone in the room. Once they were gone I let out a sigh and began to undress myself. The water was hot, but it was fine since I practically liked showering in lava every morning. 

Settling into the tub I finally relaxed. This entire thing was just so… bizarre. At first, I thought it was some sort of dream, but that searing pain I felt wasn’t something I could just imagine. 

My necklace burned me. 

And it burned me when I first saw the markings on the cave walls. I looked down at my chest and hand, but saw nothing. 

Okay, weird. 

That aside, why was I even brought here? Why me? What do I have that made me so special that I had to be flung into this era of time?

“Think, y/n, think,” I muttered to myself. The dream. Daenerys’ dream about the necklace. But wait, no history books said anything about her having a dragon dream. Could this maybe be connected?  

For the next hour, I mulled over my options while I soaked in the tub that had turned lukewarm. Having enough, I got up and grabbed the towels that the servants had thankfully set close for me. 

The clothes that they had laid out for me were a bunch of nightgowns. Thankfully, they were my size. I decided to wear a simple white nightgown. 

Laying under the mountain of covers and blankets, I finally let myself completely relax, falling asleep. Hopefully tomorrow’s discussions can help this situation get better or at least easier. 

I woke up to the sun glaring down into my face. Groaning, I turned to my side, hoping to get some more sleep. But the damage was done. 

I could hear light shuffling in the room and things being moved around. When I opened my eyes, I was nearly flash-banged. All the windows (that are floor to ceiling length) were opened and the curtains were drawn back. 

A few servants from last night and a few new faces worked around the room. I sat up in bed, rubbing my eyes, catching the attention of one of the girls. 

“Good morning, My Lady. Did you sleep well?” 

“Morning,” my voice came out a little low and rough. “What’s going on?” 

“We’re getting you ready for the day,” the girl replies, matter of factly. “You will be having your morning meal with the Queen. We’ve already drawn you a fresh new bath and arranged a new set of clothes.” 

I looked at where the tub was last night, nothing that was gone, along with my clothes. 

“Where are my clothes?” I asked. 

“We’ve sent them to get washed,” the servant replied. “My Lady, if i may…” 

I nodded for her to go on. “We’ve never seen such clothes like yours before. They remind us of what the men wear however, yours are a bit more.. different.” 

“Oh, that. They’re just something that I made.” I lied. Thinking back to last night, I’m confused I didn’t get as many weird looks as I should have wearing my jeans and shirt. It's not really the typical Westerosi fashion for this time. 

“The bath is ready.” Another girl says. 

Reluctantly, I got out of bed, following them to another room adjacent to this one. The room was a massive bathroom that could function as a bathhouse. 

There was a massive tub nestled into the floor. The windows were also huge but a little higher up, letting in some natural light. I could tell the water was hot just by how much it was steaming. 

Carefully, the servants began to undress me. They led me into the water and began adding what I can only assume are oils and salts. Truthfully, it felt like I was at some fancy spa with how they washed my body and hair. 

Once that was done, they helped me into a beautiful white dress with a dark teal and gold design. I felt like a model wearing such a beautiful dress. I let my hair down, not wanting it in any style (or knowing any styles of this period). 

A servant walked me to the dining room where Daenerys was waiting for me. She wore a light blue dress with her hair braided and her three headed dragon pin.  

“Good Morning,” she greeted. 

“Morning uh, Your grace.”  I replied. “Sorry, I’ve never called anyone “your grace” before.” 

She brushed it off, motioning for me to take a seat next to her at the table where the food was already prepared. 

“How did you sleep?” She asks, beginning to eat. 

“Fine, surprisingly.” I reached down to grab a fork for my food. “How about you?” 

Was I really making small talk with Daenerys Targaryen? 

“Mine as well,” she smiled. “I was hoping we could talk a little before I had to go meet my small council.” 

“Okay, what did you want to talk about?” I wanted to smack myself. Every time I spoke it was full of nerves and anxiety. 

“Let’s start with you. Your name and where you’re from.” Daenerys says confidently. “Judging by your looks, you’re of Valyrian descent.” She says, eyeing my silver hair. 

“Yes,” I nodded. “My family moved from Volantis to the Eyrie. My family is known to be of the Old Blood in Volantis.” 

“The Old Blood?” Daenerys says, surprised. 

The Old Blood are a group of people in Volantis that have proven to be the last remaining families of Valyria. They live in a perched area of the city that only they can walk. All the families in that area still continue their Valyrian traditions and practices, just minus the dragons. 

I nodded, “My father is the youngest of four sons, so he thought ‘why not move to westeros and start something there?’ knowing that he wouldn’t have to really carry on the family name.” 

“And your family name is Vellarys?” She recalled from last night. 

“Yes. We’re known for our jewelry making in Volantis. That’s why my father moved to Westeros, to open a shop there without having to take over the business and stress like his older brother.

“As for myself, I have two older brothers. One is working to be a doctor,” Daenerys frowned at that, confused, “uh, it’s like a Maester. The other is helping my father run the shop.” 

“And what about yourself?” 

“I’m in school. I go to the University of Kings Landing.” 

“The.. University of… Kings Landing?” 

“Well, after the monarchy was sorta let go, they turned certain parts of the Red Keep and other castles into Universites -places to go for higher studies, like the.. Citadel for example.” 

Daenerys nods, understanding some of it. 

“I study the era of The Game of Thrones as well as Targaryen History.” 

“The Game of Thrones?” She repeats. “What is that?” 

“It’s, uh, what we call this time period. It ranged from the death of King Robert to,” the death of Daenerys Targaryen, “to now, and a little later. We look into how the events after Robert’s death played out and how people fought for the Iron Throne.” 

“Like a game.” She says. 

I nodded. “Yes, like a game. There’s this quote that Cersie Lannister said to Ned Stark that summed it up, “When you play the game of thrones, You win or you die,”.”

“I see,” Daenerys looks down at her plate in thought. “And what about me?” 

Oh fuck. 

“What about you?” I say, acting innocent. 

“What happened to me?” 

I purse my lips together. Should I say it? I mean, it’s a good segway to what I want to really say… if this part goes well. 

“You…” I nervously swallowed. “You die… before you could even claim the throne.” 

The fork in her hand hits the ceramic plate with a loud clunk. 

“What?” 

Nervously, I looked into her. “You were killed… after you burned Kings Landing to ashes.” 

She frowned. “You're lying. I would never do such a thing. Me? Burning down Kings Landing? 

And the Red Keep, but I’ll keep that to myself. 

“I’m not lying, Daenerys. After you died, Drogon picked you up and flew you away. We still haven’t found your or his body.” 

Daenerys' hands started to shake at the information I had just thrown at her. Carefully, I placed mine over hers. 

“Daenerys,” I said softly. “Breath. You’re fine, nothing has happened so far.” 

Slowly, I could feel her hands stop shaking and her breathing seemed to steady. 

“What do you mean so far?” 

I gave her hand an encouraging squeeze although, I can’t tell if it was for me or her. 

“Meaning, I can help you.” 

She looks at me, puzzled. 

“Daenerys, I can help you take the Iron Throne.” 

okayyyy so it's finally here after many rewrites. let me know if you guys liked the first person POV. its my first time writing it like this, typically i do second POV. more to come in later chapters. also, i will be changing a few things, nothing major. one personal head cannon that i have is that jon isn't really named aegon, but jaehaerys. makes a lil more sense in my brain. also, i'll maybe be using some info from the books. and if you guys have any suggestions with y/n's character and other stuff please feel free to let me know. don't worry there will be more story and character development in the coming chapters.

[foleys-help-blog]

Fun Selfshipping Activities!

Print out pictures of them to hang up on your wall!

If they wear jewelry, make it!

Make stickers of them! (There's tutorials on youtube of how to make stickers at home, or, you can get sticker paper on amazon for pretty cheap!)

If you do make stickers, put them on your sketchbook, journal, laptop, or whatever you feel like putting them on!

Make a google slides presentation on them! Alternatively, you could also write an essay about them.

If they don't have a canonical style of handwriting, find or try to write in a way they would write!

If they do, try making your own font of their handwriting that you can download and use. Or, try to learn how to write similarly to them, maybe write letters to yourself from their perspective.

If they have a birthday or there's a holiday coming up (irl or canonical), make a card for them!

Make them in the sims, or some other character creation making game. Or you could make a Minecraft skin of them.

Draw them as a character from another source. For example, draw them as a pony from MLP, or draw them in the style of a cartoon you like!

Make a playlist of Youtube videos you'd think they'd enjoy watching, and perhaps watch them again and pretend like you're watching them with your f/o.

Make food they canonically like, or you'd think they'd like!

Make a tier list as if they were making it! Like a fruit tier list, for example.

Compile an Amazon list or Pinterest board of clothes they would wear!

If you're able, buy snacks you think they would enjoy!

Name a stuffed animal after them or name a stuffed animal something you think they would name it.

Make yourself a sticky note as if they made it (like a doodle, a simple 'I love you', or something silly!)

If your f/o has a particular interest, look into it! Study it even, if you'd like!

Take quizzes as if you were them. Could be something serious, or something silly you find on uquiz.

If your f/o is romantic and you would want to have children with them, pick out baby names! Compile a pinterest board of baby clothes or toys you and your f/o would purchase together.

Build you and your f/os dream home in a building game (like Minecraft or The Sims)

Plan out a vacation of somewhere you'd want to go with your f/o. Maybe you could make a Google slides "brochure" to convince them to go.

If your f/o has a canon perfume or cologne they wear, or alternatively, their source created one for them (primaniacs website has a long list of series they've made scents for!) put the scent notes into fragranticas "search by notes" feature to find a dupe, or make one yourself you think they'd wear!

Compile a list of flowers you think (or know) your f/o likes, make them into a bouquet and maybe look up the meanings for each flower.

Compile a list of candles or body lotions your f/o would buy!

[ozzgin]

Adopt a y/n is extremely funny, and I can imagine all the different ads for types of humans monsters could adopt. Like on those adoption websites they have a list of types of dogs with names and personalities that are available for being able to bring home. Like the other anon described themself, you got the mischievous one who only give attention for food, or a human who is skittish and easily startled, or a human who is friendly but a bit too horny all the time so they might flirt with your monster friends (honestly that is probably all the y/ns lol), one that is clingy and needs constant care, etc etc. -hand biter spouse

Someday I'll make a picrew using my poorly drawn doodles, so that everyone can customize their own blobsona. Then I'll upload everything in a monster hoe catalog and ship a copy into space, for potential aliens or cosmic monsters.

All I ask is that you remember me when you're being kidnapped by a multiverse creature, who cites my improvised shopping brochure as their source for finding you.

[seiya234]

21 grams lighter

that website, amirite? anyway can't fucking believe alex did it again.

----

“Uncle Dipper, the school said you had to sign this?”

“Me specifically?”

Hank frowned. “Well, an adult in our house.”

“You’re the first one we found,” Willow added.

Dipper picked up the paper, skimming it quickly and. Oh.

Oh my god.

“Mabel are you in here?”

As the triplets wandered off, task done, a head covered in googly eyes popped out the kitchen door. “Mmmyes?”

Dipper brandished the papers. “Do you remember MADD?”

“Moms Are Down with Drugs? Yeah. We had to do those worksheets, and go to that rally in the gym, and there was a dog in a jacket.” Mabel paused. “Also, I don’t think they actually knew what it meant when you say you’re down with something.”

“Okay, so MADD… but for selling your soul.”

The googly eyes, with impeccable comedic timing, all fell off of Mabel’s face.

“No.”

“Oh my god, there’s a pamphlet.”

By now, Mabel had joined him at the table. “’Soul Selling: Not Even Once!’ Oh. Oh Dipper, this is bad.”

He was trying to hold in peals of laughter. “I know!”

“I don’t think this is going to discourage anyone.”

“I know.”

“And look, they basically give you the directions to summon five different demons in the name of Not Doing That, this is really, really bad.”

“I̶t̷'̴s̵ ̸f̸a̷n̶t̸a̴s̶t̷i̸c̵!̴”

Mabel looked at him, just looked at him for a minute, sadness welling deep in her eyes.

“No. No it’s really not.”

------

Trillions.

A number that is truly incomprehensible, much less in the context of time.

There were souls that rotted in that stomach longer than the oldest rocks of Earth.

--------

[from the M.A.D.D. Brochure, 2285]

“So remember kids, selling your soul doesn’t just effect you. It effects every version of you! It is an indelible mark that will linger for eternity, never changing, never going away. Paths, choices, loved ones, all will wither in the face of the horrible decision that you made! Eternity is forever, don’t make it your fault!”

[penciled in the margins, a note: “so we aren’t going to talk about social inequality or systemic racism then are we?”]

------------

(the most eternal, sacred part of a being)

Dipper had been a demon for all of a month, if that, when he was offered his first soul. For a while, he… didn’t really do anything with them.

When he did, it was of course super traumatic for everyone involved but eh, that kind of went with the territory of everything that was happening in his life lately.

Point being, he never was sure why Bill kept everyone trapped inside of him, constantly screaming, constantly playing beach tunes to drown them out. No, better to eat them, get the power, set them free.

Like, obviously, not great to be eating souls in the first place, and yeah, yeah, he could tell, even ten thousand (ten million) (ten billion) years later who he had crunch munched through, but like, they were able to be out there living their lives! Doing stuff. Cycling back through.

Honestly. What had Bill been planning to do with them?

--------

For the first week after it happened, animals ran away from Mabel.

Not just cats and dogs but all animals. Flocks of birds would fly off at her approach, deer would get near the Shack and then run off, and Gompers disappeared into the woods.

After the bear ran screaming from her, Mabel put two and two together, and called Dipper.

“Is this forever?”

Dipper frowned. “What do you mean?”

Mabel waved at her body. “This.”

(it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair she was only 16/18/22/17, she didn’t mean for this to happen, she only wanted to live, he only wanted her to live, this wasn’t f a i r )

“Oh. Uh. Um.”

“Dipper. Just. Tell. Me.”

“Hold on.” He reached into his stomach, and pulled out something…. Ineffable.

It felt like every single cell in Mabel’s body was reaching towards it, she found herself walking towards Dipper’s open hand.

The demon looked at her.

“You can have it back.”

She was crying. When did she start crying? And more worryingly, why did it feel like this was the first real, true thing she had felt in a week?

He pushed the Ineffable thing into her chest, and Mabel sank to the ground, sobbing. She felt whole again.

She didn’t realize that she hadn’t been whole, not truly, not until now.

Alcor smirked. “Consider it… out on lease. I’ll take it back eventually.”

She should have challenged him on that. Should have asked him about that. Should have done a million trillion other things.

But Mabel was human. And scared. And so, so very young.

---------

(you were birds)

A young man with fluffy brown hair, mixing his blood with his sister and his new brother-in-law, making a promise.

(you were trees with roots entangled)

They made a family together, it was a beautiful family, they let him stay, stay when anyone else would have told him to leave.

(wherever we go next, whatever you choose, I will always be right there with you)

They fit, like spoons in a drawer, like yin and yang, salt and pepper, ketchup and mustard, literally a million different pairings you could compare the two of them to. They weren’t perfect but love doesn’t need to be, and shouldn’t be perfect.

(that’s done buddy)

One grave

(congratulations)

Another grave, but eighty years later.

(you chose Alcor instead)

[see-arcane]

The Vampyres--The Bones and Blood of the Book

Good news! I’m not dead and the book isn’t either! Just shambling slowly through the wasteland of the publication process. It’s been a bit since I last waved this bloody morsel around. So, consider this a progress report on the state of the novella, the prospective publishing options, and a few other questions that have been bouncing around in the inbox.

EDIT:

I have a website now! For some reason.

It's See Arcane Scribbles.

Smaller Edit:

Got a Spotify too for story soundtrack goodness:

COVERS

First things first—and the first part of a finished book is the cover. Here are some mockups I’ve been juggling, starting with the original placeholder. They’re far from perfect, but I’m proud of what I managed with a fairly skinny graphic art skill set.

FINISHING, FORMAT, AND FINANCE*

*(OR, THE HEADACHENING)

Copyright: Technically speaking, you have the copyright to your own writing once you put it to paper or screen. But this is somehow a different thing from a legally-binding registered copyright, which everyone declares is a must-have if you want your work to be protected with more than a non-textual trust-fall exercise, hoping nobody steals your work and runs.

That said, electronic registration with the copyright office is $65, or $45 to register one work by one author.

ISBN: I only recently learned the words behind this acronym. ‘International Standard Book Number.’ It’s the ID on a book that marks it as unique and helps commercial booksellers and libraries circulate it. Each iteration of a book—paperback, digital, hardcover, new editions, et cetera—has its own ISBN. When you’re publishing on your own, you purchase ISBNs through a service called Bowker.

One book/version’s ISBN costs $125.

There are better bargains the higher the number of books and/or versions you go, starting at a bulk of 10 books for $295. But as I only have the one (1) skinny novella on the table, that’s a no-go. Which begs the question of how many ISBNs are in store for this little monster. It depends on how many formats I go with.

eBook: The quickest and most cost-efficient option across the board for any self-publication service. Short, sweet, no printing pains of trim sizes or distribution costs or formatting, oh my. Nice.

Paperback VS Hardcover: …But I am now and forever a sucker for physical media. Even though it’s a teeny brochure of a thing, I want to hold a physical copy of The Vampyres in my hands! So bad! And every service I’ve looked through has stated the obvious: Hardcover costs more than paperback. My heart won’t break if I have to stick with paperback to spare everyone’s wallets—hardcovers are pricy in both directions!—but I am a little torn. Especially as physical size might affect the price too.

Here we have two of my favorite quick reads, an anthology of Poe stories and Clive Barker’s novella, The Hellbound Heart.

The Poe book is a clothbound hardcover. 6.5 x 4.5 inches, a bit over 120 pages.

The Hellbound Heart is roughly 8 x 5 inches (about standard for a novella), at 164 pages. But unlike Poe, it looks like Barker took some liberties with the spacing and font size.

Standard size dimensions cost less than unique cuts, which means that whether paperback or hardcover, I sadly have to say goodbye to the petite palm-sized edition I was hoping for. On the upside, good news to us crap-vision readers—the font’s going to get H U G E in order to make the book more than a pamphlet with delusions of grandeur.

Audiobook: The fact is, my voice is not up to the task of reciting anything with appropriate gravitas and I think we’ve all been spoiled by @re-dracula and assorted other podcasts’ skill in orating. I don’t have the cash to hire a professional and I’m not about to accept anyone’s freebie offers. I won’t pickpocket friends for their talent. If an audio version ever comes along for any story of mine it’ll be down the road when it proves worth the format’s effort and cost.

REVIEWS (and a Foreword!)

It was the best of times (People reading the thing! Commenting on the thing! Good good good—), it was the worst of times (The Mortifying Ordeal of People Reading and Commenting on the Thing). Time for what every advice site declares a book absolutely must have the moment it’s thrust into the wild.

Reviews, reviews, reviews.

I’ve already bitten several bullets and passed copies out to a handful of fellow scribblers to scrutinize, their reviews destined to be hung up like literary gold stars on their bookselling site of choice, my own included. Now comes my preliminary grovel to readers en masse to please drop a review, a comment, a blurb of any shape or size where you can once The Vampyres drops. I’ve already gotten some early comments that have consisted mostly of screaming. Screams also count as a review.

As an aside, there are two folks in particular who I reached out to who exist in the stratosphere of Coolest People in the Vampiric Lit scene. They promptly exploded me into disbelieving giblets when they told me, yes, they’d be happy to read my little story and offer up a review and a foreword for the book respectively.

I’m not sure what the decorum here is, but for safety (and surprise’s) sake, I’ll not name names. But they are names I’ve been happy to come across for the past two years while neck deep in the undead book club. I’m infinitely grateful to both of them and am waiting on pins, needles, stakes and kukri blades by my inbox so I can pin their words up inside the book itself.

FUTURE SCRIBBLING

To get one of the biggest questions out of the way, let’s talk about Barking Harker.

My very own object lesson on sunk cost fallacy.

I wrote my way through a goddamn cinderblock of text without even grazing the finish line of the first section of the story. A story made of so many convoluted triple-decker layers of subplots and side characters that it had the structural integrity of a monolithic Nature Valley granola bar, just waiting to fall apart under its own weight. Such is the hubris and curse of too-many-words-itis. The Vampyres remains a miraculous fluke, jotted down during an overdue break from BH’s slog. Not just because I tripped and fell into finishing the story, but because it’s comparatively compact! Brevity at last!

For those still craving the assorted gothic and ghoulish promises of the initial novel idea, don’t worry, those aren’t going anywhere. I’ve just crumbled the metaphorical bloodstained granola by my own hand and have done the sane thing of parsing out the various subplots to become the foundations of their own stories. Which they really should have been from the get-go. Insert 100+ clown emojis here.

On that note, I am turning into WIPs Georg over here. Good god.

I hesitate to throw myself all-in again and make promises of X Story that may leave me spinning my mental wheels or ballooning the plot out into a behemoth that can’t be steered back on course. Even so, here’s a peek at a few ideas I currently have on the brain.

So.

Not exactly lacking for stories. It’s just a matter of seeing which of them breaks ahead of the herd and squeezes out into the publication ether first.

LAST BIT  

Blah, blah, requisite reminder that I have a Ko-Fi where you can donate a buck or commission my best attempt at art, blah. Any pennies are a help.

But I’m betting very few of you came around here for my doodles. Somehow, a good amount of people tripped into this pit with me because you enjoy the rambles and horrors I’ve written over the years. Maybe some of you will even buy my book once it’s out. And you, there, on the other side of the screen—you’re reading this right now. You made it all the way to the bottom of this pile of exposition just because you wanted to. So, thank you.

Thank you for reading this far. Thank you for reading before and reading what’s to come. Thank you for giving me the confidence to even consider shouldering my own work out into the wider world.

Thank you.

P.S. If you want to re-read the preview, go here!

[ultimac]

CLİPART - DRAGON+ (2)

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[brf-rumortrackinganon]

If you look at the trademark application for American Riviera Orchard, you’ll see that she’s trademarking it through a newly registered in Delaware company called Mama Knows Best, LLC.

Infact when you dig into the domain names etc, it seems this was thrown together last minute aka 2months ago after KC3/ PssoW C’s illnesses were announced. They are using PR to pretend they were working on it for an entire year, but even Scobie said they had nothing or whatever they had was all over the shop and he had no idea what it would be.

His comments don’t speak to a focused vision that is researched into whatever this is.

And what’s glaring about this launch is the lack of anything to sell. Not videos or actual products which speaks to the theory that this wax thrown together very quickly.

Russell Myers from the Mirror says if you sign up to the website, you get a respinse telling you that you’ll be notified of products when they are created/ available……if this was a year in the making and with proper marketing/ PR people, they’d have products ready to go. What it is right now is a landing/ holding page ( comments turned off on IG) until it produces products. 

It’s also interesting that the video is showcasing cooking which Markle tried to manifest for years while dating Corey. She auditioned and or popped up on varioys cooking shows/ fashion segments hoping to be hired. Acvording to people magazine, this launch of a lifestyle brand will have a companion show on Netflix. If Network tv won’t hire her for dream job then she’ll use her distribution deal to make it happen aka pay herself to make it happen!!!

However, one thing she revealed which tells me she has no clue about aspirational lifestyles/ branding. Her home kitchen hasn’t been updated from the dated 2000s/ early 2010s decor. It’s tye same kitchen from the sales brochure. 

Infact, glimpses of their home show a distinct lack of updating from the sales brochure. The onpy room thry updated is the one with the dining table as desk and their two side by side chairs. They removed all furniture and painted it white and addedva jute rug and that california bear poster over the fireplace. 

The current trend in kitchens for the wealthy is marble counter-tops and sleek designs meanwhile she’s displaying faux country/ italianate kitchen from the 90s. 

The women she is cosplaying eg GOOP, Martha and Ina Garten have upgraded to the current trend in kitchens. GOOP showed off her new kitchedn in AD. Heck, JLO is showing off her sleek kitchen. 

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

That they haven’t updated their house to their taste is what I laugh about the most. Are they really that cash-poor? Do they really have that much debt that they can’t afford to redo anything? Surely Markus and Soho House can cough up a few million to keep her happy, and when the Sussexes default on the loans, they can make Soho Olive Garden, a Californian spinoff of Soho Farmhouse. Win-win, if you ask me.

meanwhile she’s displaying faux country/ italianate kitchen from the 90s. ➡️ Remember, Meghan’s whole aesthetic is 90s. Of course she wants the Italian Country kitchen.

And thanks, anon. You’ve just reminded me of a house I looked at when I was moving back in 2022. The homeowners were so into that Italian Country Kitchen theme that they PAINTED the entire kitchen like it was a rustic Italian restaurant. You know you go into a family-owned Italian mom-and-pop place (not a chain like Olive Garden or Maggianos, but something like your neighborhood Italian pizza place) and it’s got that orangey-beige sponge paint that’s supposed to mimic sandstone and there’s a huge wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling mural of Italy and dusty fake vines hanging from decorative columns? Yeah, that was how this kitchen was painted. Even the cabinets. And that was not even the weirdest house I looked at by a mile.)

[notearsnora]

New promotional video for the fans on the Shiz University website with Jon M. Chu explaining a little bit about the layout of the school and some lore behind it, featuring some new clips from the movie.

The website features a University welcome brochure and map you can download and print if you wish to, as well as interactive student portraits that move when you click on them. All can be found here:

[napakmahal]

A very random sad blurb. Hiro x reader. It’s sad but I’m actually kinda happy with how it turned out. Like I’m very okay with how I wrote this. Enjoy (please) pookies.

Every brochure and website you read about dealing with grieve says that it comes in waves or episodes. That it will wax and wane. In good there is bad and in bad there is good, there is no in between. There is no normal.

Grief is also really weird. You could be having a relatively normal day and see one thing that reminds you of what you’ve grieved and all of a sudden you feel like shit for the rest of the day.

In Hiro’s case, that was seeing the San Fransokyo ninjas poster as they were playing in their home stadium for the first time that season. Tadashi’s loved baseball and that was his team.

Up until that point Hiro had been having a semi-normal month. As normal as you can get being a teen superhero. But that stupid fucking poster came into his life like a truck and ruined it.

When you walked upstairs to visit him he was laying in the opposite direction on his bed. With his head on the foot of the bed and his legs smushing into his pillow. He was staring at the room divider that had been closed for the past few months that he didn’t dare open and was very defensive over people touching. Even his aunt.

“Hey,” your voice was soft and borderline coddle-ish. “Are you okay? You haven’t been answering my calls.”

Hiro’s a very good texter when he wants to be and he was always a good texter with you. Something was wrong.

Obviously lying and not bothering to convince you otherwise he just said, “I’m fine. Thanks though.”

You weren’t sure what you hated more. When he got angry about his grief or depressed. For the longest time if he’d go through one of those waves of missing his brother he’d be unnecessarily angry. Everyone was wrong and everything anybody did pissed him off. A grenade ready to blow at any moment. Your relationship really struggled during those times and he really was hard to deal with. But there were times like this. Where he could lay in the same position for days on end paralyzed by grief.

“Hiro.” You said in a warning tone. If he wasn’t fine why couldn’t he just say that? If he just wanted to be left alone he could say that instead. “You’re lying to me.”

He sighed, “I’m not lying.”

“Yes you are!” Your voice was raising. “We’ve talked about this like—a million times. You have to tell me what you’re feeling. This isn’t healthy.”

“As you constantly remind me.” His voice was dripping with attitude and tipping on anger.

You scoffed not exactly enjoying his tone. “Well maybe I wouldn’t have to remind you if you would just do it!”

“Oh my fucking god, y/n! I don’t need parenting, leave me alone!” He was shouting know, no longer depressed but angry.

You remember what your relationship with Hiro was like before Tadashi died. Still a little rocky because of his horrible and illegal not fighting habit but a million times better.

You raised your voice without really shouting. “Is that what you want? To be left alone?”

“Yes! I was want you out!”

You raised your arms and let them make a slap sound against your thighs. “Why couldn’t you just say that?”

“Because you make it hard.” He wasn’t yelling anymore but said it more with a whine and he dug his face into his hands.

You responded. “Hiro I really don’t think I do. I just want you to tell me what you want. ‘I’m fine’ is such a lazy fucking lie and I really wish you’d stop saying it.”

Hiro took a deep breath with his head in his hands before looking back up at you. He was crying of either sadness or frustration and anger. Maybe it was all of them. “You know what I want? I want my brother back, that’s what. I don’t want to feel this way and I want my life back. And I know I shouldn’t but sometimes I wish I’d just killed Callaghan when I had the chance. I want my aunt and my friends to stop pretending Tadashi never existed and I want you to stop acting like my therapist and just be there like a normal person. That’s what I want.”

You were speechless for a bit. What he said was revealing, raw, and a little hurtful. But it was real. It was the truth. How could you be upset? You begged him to tell you the truth, he did.

You paused for a bit but asked, “Do normal people give hugs?”

He stopped and sat up properly before gently nodding his head. You rushed over to him and practically tackled him in your arms and you felt him hug you back equally as hard.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered so quietly on he could hear it. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

He said nothing and just embraced you, tears falling freely now. Very rarely did Hiro just cry about how he was feeling but when it rained it poured. This was no exception.

When he did speak he just said, “I need you. Not the therapist you that uses words like trauma-response. I need you. I want you here with me.”

You rapidly nodded still hugging him so tight as if you let him go he’d vanish into thin air. He needed you. He wanted you. So you promised him with total sincerity, “I’m here, I’ll always be here.”

Tadashi’s gone. No science or technology could do anything about that. If it could Hiro would have tried it already. You couldn’t do anything about that. But what you can do if just be there when he inevitably falls and succumbs to the grief of the tragic and untimely death of the person who practically raised him. All Hiro can ask you to do is be there, and although the can’t fully comprehend the afterlife he knows that’s all Tadashi wants too.

[vignellicenter]

Abe Hirschfeld, who made a fortune building parking garages, turned a parking garage at 330 East 61st Street into an exclusive fitness club in the 1980s.

In 1979, Vignelli Associates designed a logo, brochure, stationery, and membership materials for what their own brochure deemed “a country club in the heart of the city”

“A unique sporting club offering tennis, squash and racquetball”

“No sport and racquet facility like exists anywhere.”

By 1984, the club was the place to be seen with many celebrity sightings [for example, Cher, Diana Ross, Liza Minelli, Arnold Schwarzenegger, David Bowie, Mick Jagger, Ashford and Simpson, Brooke Shields]

Quotes from a 1984 NY Times article about the health club’s social scene:

''The Vertical Club is today's Studio 54''

“People join other health clubs to get in shape before they join here''

“Pure Fellini''

“It is better socially than a singles bar because it's not so obvious”'

Here is what the VC brochure promised:

“Court time at your convenience is always assured, because Vertical Club membership is strictly limited. … The congeniality and prestige of the club us maintained by our Admissions Committee, which interviews and approves all applicants.”

Staff are ready “to make each visit to the Vertical Club a delightful leisure experience.”

Courts

“Courts are stacked vertically atop one another. Each level of the vertical club is equivalent to four stories; the building is the height of a 20-story structure.”

“Architect Eugene Ho has created tennis “al fresco” through open, retractable siding on the courts.”

Courtside Restaurant and Bar

“The glass-walled, elevated Courtside Restaurant overlooks our two exhibition tennis courts and glass-sided racquetball court.”

Graphics

“Vignelli Associates are designers of tremendous scope.”

Fee schedule

“Resident + spouse Initiation fee $4000 plus $125/mo”

And speaking of the 1980s, join us next week for our next Open Houses which will highlight artifacts from the archives from the 1980s. Check out our events page on our website for more details [link in bio]

9/25-9/26, 2024 10am-4pm

And in the spring with a completely different displays of 1980s artifact!

3/26-3/27, 2025 10am-4pm

[yopossum]

Kindred Spirits

a Jack Daniels miniseries for Week 2 (Arts & Culture) of @secretelephanttattoo’s Secret Springs Challenge!

Main Masterlist - PART 2

Pairing: Professor Jack Daniels, PhD. X f!Reader

Rating: Part 1 - M

Summary: You’re on your cousin’s bachelorette trip and having a… time. Your hard partying days are years behind you, much to the chagrin of the rest of the girls; you need something slow, soft, meaningful to shake off the weight of the world. Fortunately, the Secret Springs Arts & Culture brochure has an event that sounds right up your alley - “History, Distilled: The Folklore of Alcohol,” a presentation and tasting with Dr. Jack Daniels, a distinguished professor of folk history, storyteller, author, and spirits expert. You expected an afternoon of boozy education. You certainly didn’t expect that a cocky cowboy caricature would teach you more about the world, and yourself, than you ever imagined.

Warnings: Part 1: alcohol and drinking, overindulgence/drunkenness, party girlies, bachelorette shenanigans, sneaky Mayor El, and not much else yet! Eventual romance and feelings and 🌶️

Shout-outs to @oliveksmoked (Coco’s Nuts) and @shchristine (La Belle Vie) whose earlier contributions wiggled their way into this fic 😘😘😘

“Girl come ON! We didn’t come all the way to Secret Springs to go to a lecture! Didn’t you get that boring shit out of your system in college like forever ago?!” Stephanie groaned and rolled her eyes as she tugged at her tiny neon pink bikini. Chantel nodded aggressively from her permanent spot at the suite’s vanity, mouth open in a tiny “o” as she applied a nineteenth layer of thick black waterproof mascara. Bride-to-be Brandy was busying herself in the bathroom, trying to pin a novelty veil into her messy bun to wear along with her sparkly “I’M GETTING MARRIED, BITCHES!” sash. You sighed and folded up the Arts & Culture Events pamphlet you’d snagged from the lobby, setting it on the nightstand and flopping back onto the bed.

You loved your cousin. You really, really did. You were thrilled she was getting married. You were honored she wanted to include you in her wedding, her bridal party, and, by extension, her bachelorette trip. The thing was, you were kind of… overwhelmed? Exhausted? Old? Over it?

Maybe fifteen years earlier you’d have been the first girl dancing at the poolside bar. Hell, you’d have been the first girl dancing on top of the poolside bar. You’d have been the first girl physically removed from the poolside bar, your tiny neon bikini strung haphazardly around you like a too-tan bottle-blonde trussed ham. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to let loose anymore. You sure as hell did, and had a million more reasons to need a vacation now than you did when you were in your early 20s. Your idea of letting loose now was just quieter. Involved air conditioning. Maybe indulging in some niche hobbies or interests because you never had a fucking minute of peace or mental breathing room anymore because capitalism is a cruel joke and growing up is a goddamn scam.

Whew. Yeah, you needed this vacation.

“How about you guys hit Coco’s Nuts on my dime and I’ll go do my boring old lady shit? I’ll open a tab for you on my way into town,” you offered.

“Bitch, oh my god!” shrieked Brandy, giddy, leaning out of the bathroom with a blinding smile. Stephanie and Chantel squealed in unison, beaming at you. Crest Whitestrips ought to sponsor this damn wedding.

“It’s the least I can do,” you giggled as the girls circled you in a group hug. “My delinquent days are far behind me now, but I’m happy to sponsor promising up-and-comers.”

“Meet for dinner, though?” Brandy asked, and you shook your head yes. “Mayor El said something a really nice restaurant here.”

“Ooh, La Belle Vie! I’m pulling up the website right now. Everything there looks DELICIOUS,” swooned Stephanie, eyes on her phone.

Chantel leaned over her shoulder and gaped. “Including the chef! Goddamn!” She fanned herself dramatically.

You helped the girls sunscreen up and snuck some Liquid IV powder packets into their bags, then sent them down to Coco while you finished getting yourself ready. You pulled on your favorite jeans, dark-washed and high-waisted and skinny thankyouverymuch, and tucked in your soft, faded Loretta Lynn tee. Slipping on some broken-in Chacos and an oversized pair of sunglasses, you snagged the discarded Arts & Culture pamphlet and tossed it in your tote bag before heading out the door.

———

“Remember water, watch your drinks, and if any guys creep you out, call me or tell Coco and we’ll put the fear of God into them, okay?” You repeated to the group. Coco grinned and nodded her affirmation from behind the bar. “Dieter promised me he’ll play your song whenever you’re ready, Brandy!”

“You’re the BEST!” Your cousin threw her arms around your neck in thanks. “Text me when you’re done with your… thingy?”

“‘History, Distilled: The Folklore of Alcohol,’ says the guide. ‘An afternoon of storytelling and spirit-tasting’ with a Dr. Daniels. And yes, I will!”

“You won’t regret it,” said a voice from behind you.

“Oh! Mayor El! I didn’t see you there, sorry. I’m really looking forward to it! Have you seen Dr. Daniels speak before?” You were more than a little excited to nerd out over some folk history and liquor legends.

The mayor smiled slyly. “Haven’t had the chance myself yet, with how busy we’ve been this season, but I’ve heard that Jack Daniels is quite knowledgeable.”

“Wait, Jack Daniels? Like the whiskey? Is that like a stage name or something?” Chantel was eavesdropping.

“No clue! We don’t require that kind of documentation here at Secret Springs, my dear. Ruins the magic, don’t you think?” Mayor El winked. You and Chantel exchanged looks. Coco winced. Better remember to double-check the lock on the in-room safe tonight, just to be safe.

“Got to be on my way, now. Busy, busy! You ladies have a great rest of your day,” the mayor concluded warmly, before turning to you directly. “And you,” she whispered, “enjoy your afternoon with Jack. I suspect he’s as smooth as his namesake.” She turned on her heel and walked out of the room, humming a tune to herself that sounded a lot like “You Can Leave Your Hat On.” Hm.

Waving to the rest of your travel companions, you shouldered your tote bag and headed out the front doors, stepping out onto the sunny cobblestone street and heading towards the center of town.

—————————————————————————

PART 2

[sisaloofafump]

Planning to visit Metropolis? Here's what you need to know:

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Rest in peace, the Coast City Craniums crew. The team at MetTravels extends our sympathies to their families. We will miss you, and hope you reunite in the afterlife with your late friends at Rogues Remember.

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