#sand cousins au

[sea-owl]

with gaara's kidnapping, y'know how itachi told deidara and sasori that they'd be able to tell who the jinchuuriki was bc they'd be the loud dramatic one or whatever?

imagine sakura seeing deidara sitting on her faVOURITE COUSIN and immediately going apeshit and ruining that system of identification. deidara immediately nopes out, scared and a little turned on (bc hey, he can appreciate anyone that can harness that much destruction) and feels a little guilty about abandoning sasori to his fate at the hands of a rampaging jinchuuriki (until the next time he meets itachi and finds out that no??? it was just one (1) pissed off 15 year old girl)

(he may or may not say something to sasuke along the lines of 'thank god you're not the pink one' when they have their fight later on, sasuke is both proud and somewhat annoyed that this famous missing nin thinks that sakura is the scary one)

Sakura would've broken any oath as a medic right then and there if she got her hands on Deidara. This puppet freak will have to do as an outlet for her rage. Oh just wait until she gets her hands on the other one.

Deidara is so confused when Itachi tells him no the Nine Tails jinchuuriki is in fact not the pink haired girl but the blonde boy who chased him.

Sasuke wonders what Deidara did to piss off Sakura. Sasuke knows Sakura is scary, all the boys on Team 7 knows she's scary and should not ignite her temper. When he remembers years later he asks her. Sakura kisses him when she realizes Sasuke killed the bastard that killed and sat on her favorite cousin like that. It was kinda sexy.

[aura-uzumak1]

Villain Gaara AU

The ships are in this AU are

Sasori x Deidara

Kisame x Itachi

Pain ( Nagato and Yaiko) x Konan

Kakuzu x Hidan

Tobi x Rin (alive Rin ofc)

Zestu is a plant so he is single

Gaara x Rock Lee

Kankuro x Kiba

Temari x Shikamaru

Yashamaru x Pakura

Rasa x Karura

And other future ships

Some of this ships are not in this post but they will probably be in other posts

An Au where Sasori and Gaara, Temari and Kankuro are cousins, Rasa want to kill Gaara bc of the bijuu but Yashamaru doesn’t want to lost the last piece of his sister so he says that to Sasori (He still was a Suna’s shinobi) that before to defect the village took Gaara with him.

Gaara in that period is 5 y/o, Temari is 10 y/o and Kankuro is 9 y/o.

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Gaara growns up with the Akatsuki members as his family, but he wants to see again his brothers, he will at the age of 12 years. Gaara is friend with Shukaku and live in symbiosis with him, Sasori and Deidara are lovers and Gaara found the idea of having a lover soo beautiful ( he secretly wants a precious person too)

Gaara is trans (ftm) but his father found the idea of a female jinchuriki uneccetable so he always called Gaara his son and Gaara was ok with that so he was always known as the second son of Rasa.

Gaara doesn’t have a gourd but a spear of sand (the one in the anime):

The kanji is the bijuu seal and one of his eyes is like the Shukaku one bc they live in harmony.

[pomefioredove]

Just want to say I LOVE your writing and just spotted your event. If you’re still open could I please have 16 sugar cookies with frosting, chocolate chips, and marshmallows? (Gosh that sounds good, now I want to bake)

Hope you’re well and staying warm!

AWW THANK YOU. rounding my savanaclaw day out w this one

order #16, sugar with frosting, marshmallows, and chocolate chips

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ enjoy yourself

tropes: fake dating, only one bed, roommates AU characters: leona additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, making out, a little suggestive, brief mention of hypothetical children but no mention of how the children come to be, etc word count: 700

"Nothing is going to happen,"

That was the first, and only thing Leona had said all evening.

He hadn't greeted his family at the door of the palace. He had let you do all the talking at dinner. He hadn't said a word since he gave you a briefing on his family that afternoon, before you left school.

"And don't mess this up," was the very last thing he told you.

Until now.

You look at him. On the crisp bedsheets, every little movement makes a sound. Especially with how quiet the room is.

"I know,"

"Just making sure you didn't get any funny ideas,"

The thought of having to spend the entire summer like this, with a stiff and silent and unhappy Leona, is scary.

Maybe you should've taken your chances with Crowley...

...But, when Leona came to you with an idea- you pretend to be his partner to piss off his family, he gives you a place to stay- you couldn't have refused.

"I think it's a little unfair that Grim gets his own room," you mutter.

Leona snorts. "Unfair is an understatement. But, hey, we're "dating", remember? It woulda been weird to request separate sleeping accommodations,"

You sigh. He's right, as always.

"Besides," he continues, his eyes narrowing. "You heard what they said at dinner."

You really wish he'd stop bringing that up. The memory of that, his sister-in-law's sweet smile as she suggested you two give Cheka a cousin to play with, makes you shudder.

"It was... a joke," you say.

"You know it wasn't,"

Again, he's right. Or maybe he's just honest. You sigh.

"I don't know if I can handle this all summer,"

Leona turns on his side with a smug smile, looking down at you. "Imagine how I feel. I'm related to these people,"

"Now are you happy I warned you before we left school? You're lucky you're so damn pitiful, or I wouldn't have said a thing and had a show with dinner, too."

You stick out your tongue at him, but you are grateful.

When he said they could be overbearing, you thought that was just Leona being Leona.

"They weren't supposed to like me,"

He sighs. "Tell me about it. I even fail at disappointing them,"

You sigh with him. Not even a day in the palace, and his idea was crumbling into sand and falling at your feet. His family was supposed to dislike you- the poor, magicless commoner from a place no one had even heard of.

They were supposed to awkwardly avoid you for the rest of the summer, and give both you and Leona some peace.

Instead, Falena was taken with your intelligence, you charmed his wife, and Cheka has been begging you to play with him all day.

"Well, this blows," Leona mutters, breaking the silence.

"Should we make out?"

Way to ruin the somber mood.

You shoot up in bed, eyes wide. "You JUST SAID nothing was going to happen!"

Leona scoffs, though there's an obvious smirk playing on his lips, as if he's trying and failing to be annoyed with your overblown reaction. He sits up with you.

"Relax. I was kidding,"

"Were you?"

"I was,"

You stare at each other for a moment longer, his eyes travelling across your face, his lips still curved into a smirk.

And then he closes the distance between you in the dark room and kisses you.

Once the shock has worn off and you can feel your soul re-entering your body, you kiss back. His hands rest on your waist, and then your hips, and then he's pulling you towards him with such ferocity that you end up on your back beneath him, expensive blankets thrown to the side.

You kiss in a way that you would dare not admit to anyone outside of the walls of his room, and after a few minutes, he pulls away, leaving you a breathless mess on the bed.

"Hm," he hums, running his thumb across your bottom lip, wiping up the spit that had collected there.

"...I don't know about you, but if we're going to be stuck in this room together for the whole summer, I think we should at least enjoy ourselves, hm?"

[darlingdaisyfarm]

⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚 ˖° a day at the beach with the Pines twins headcanons 

author note: okay, this is kinda a “what if au” where Stan never got kicked out of home (Filbrick I hate you), meaning he and Ford stayed together in new jersey and grew there too

u can imagine Stan with his mullet and twins being like… i bet you seen those edited screenshots of them where they are young and look like cousins of Mabel and Dipper? IDK HOW TO EXPLAIN I’m so sorry

Stan x reader x Ford, nsfw? (mostly it’s just wholesome and intimate but there’s mentions of sex still)

✧ Stan’s got you perched on his shoulders for a fight in the water and he’s talking shit the entire time, calling Ford “the human string bean” and yelling, “ya better hold on, sweetheart, ‘cause i ain’t lettin’ this nerd win!” spoiler: Ford wins

✧ the three of you build a sandcastle, no, no really. because Stan and Ford argue over everything in the process. Ford wants it to have “structural integrity,” while Stan insists on making it look “badass.” somehow, it ends up being both, a tower with a moat and little seaweed flags that Stan claims are “pirate-approved!!!” you’re the judge, of course

✧ Stan steals your sun hat. just straight-up snatches it off your head and plops it on his, smirking at you. “whaddya think, doll? does it suit me?” and honestly it kinda does, but you’re not gonna tell him that. Ford’s the one who eventually grabs it back, muttering about “immature antics” while carefully placing it back on your head

✧ imagine playing with Ford’s hair as you lay next to him on the beach, getting your fingers tangled in his soft strands, the ocean breeze making it swirl a little. you’re leaning closer to his face next thing he does is pressing soft kisses to your wrist. Ford’s eyes are beautiful, so when he glances up at you, he looks like he’s asking for permission to take that next step. like he can’t wait to kiss you, but he’s waiting for you to make the first move

✧ sharing the towel with Stan and Ford after you’ve all been in the water. sand sticking to your skin, that salty taste all over your lips. Stan just drops his towel on top of yours, pulling you in close so you’re trapped between them. “ain’t no way I’m lettin’ ya get cold, pretty,” Stan’s hands are sliding up your legs, getting close to the waistband of your swimsuit bottoms. Ford’s fingers caress your skin, too, both of them deciding who gets to take you first. god, you could melt between them. it’s totally not because of the sun

✧ they challenge you to a volleyball match, and oh god, it’s a disaster. because Stan’s so competitive, diving for every ball and yelling, “yer gonna hafta do better than that, sixer!” while Ford tries to play by the actual rules. sadly, it ends with Stanley smacking ball right into Ford’s face with “oops”

✧ Ford’s got sunscreen smeared across his nose because he applied it so meticulously he missed the most obvious spot. Stan, being a little shit, doesn’t say a word until you point it out and that makes him die at his brother’s embarrassed reaction. Ford just says, “at least i won’t look like a lobster.”

✧ Stan teaches you how to skip stones. but “teaches” is a strong word because he mostly just shows off, throwing perfect skips and smirking at you every time yours plops straight into the water. “ain’t no shame in bein’ bad at it, sweetheart. not everyone can be as talented as me.” Ford, of course, chimes in with, “it’s all about the angle of release,” and then he decides to demonstrate, making it look annoyingly easy

✧ they both get weirdly protective when some random guy starts chatting you up. guess who’s first to speak and says “don’tcha got somewhere else to be, buddy?” ??? 

✧ IDK WHY BUT I JUST SEE IT HAPPENING. hear me out. Stan buys you ice cream from a cart on the boardwalk, but the bastard purposely gets himself the messiest one he can find, idk, like a triple scoop with chocolate drizzle and sprinkles AND GUESS WHAT? it’s melting faster than he can eat it, dripping all over his hands and chest. HAH SUCKER (sorry i love him sm) and if you’ll look at him, his chest especially, thinking he won’t notice, believe me he will, “whatcha lookin’ at, doll? ya wanna lick it off me or somethin’?”

✧ Ford’s way more methodical with his treat, carefully choosing something sensible like a popsicle. he tries to eat it while reading, holding his book with one hand and the other balancing the melting stick. but he’s a silly guy who doesn’t know what summer is, so his popsicle drips onto the page and Stan immediately makes fun of him for it 

✧ more bout ice cream thing: it becomes like some kind of foreplay. Stan insists on buying you the biggest cone they have, all drippy and sweet, just so he can watch you try to eat it before it melts. “careful, baby,” as he messily licks a stray drop off your wrist. Ford doesn’t stop himself from leaning in to kiss the corner of your mouth, tasting the sweetness. by the time you’re done, the three of you are a mess of sugar and salt and heat

✧ at one point, Stan flops onto your towel, shaking sand everywhere. “hope ya don’t mind sharin’ with yer favorite guy,” he says, throwing an arm around your shoulders. however Ford tries to protest, pointing out that there are plenty of other towels, but his brother just smirks and says, “don’t be jealous, sixer. there’s room for you too.” and that’s how you three end up all squeezed together in a ridiculous pile

✧ Ford collects seashells. of course he does. hes a cutie. he’s walking along the shore, muttering to himself about “the fascinating variety of mollusk species” while carefully placing his finds into a small bag. Stan tries to look cool in front of you so he mocks his twin, calling it “nerd treasure,” or “typical nerds hobbies”, but later you catch him sneaking one of Ford’s shells into his pocket :)

✧ you challenge ford to a sand sculpting contest and he takes it so seriously because he’s sketching out blueprints in the sand, muttering about “load-bearing structures” while you’re just piling up sand with your hands. Stan joins your team, of course, and together you make the stupidest creation ever. Ford’s castle is a masterpiece, all detailed and structured, but when you ask the kids nearby to judge, they pick yours because it “looks funny!” 

✧ Stan’s sunglasses break because he sits on them and instead of admitting defeat, he just steals Ford’s

✧ it starts innocent, like most things do. Ford’s helping you tie the strings of your bikini top after a swim. but he’s not as composed and cool as he seems. Stan, being nearby, catches the whole thing. “aw, sixer, don’t be that nervous. want me to show ya how it’s done?”

✧ Stan’s teaching you how to body surf, him standing waist-deep in the water, his chest glistening from salt water and all golden from the sun. “so you just have to let the wave carry ya, toots,” he grins but he doesn’t let you go far, placing his big hands on your hips before squeezing your ass  

✧ they’ve set up a beach blanket, which is big enough for all three of you, and somehow you’ve ended up pinned between them. as always. not like you complaining though. Stan’s lying back, laying his arm around your shoulders. but Ford is more intimate, he’s talking about something you can’t even focus on because his hand is on your thigh as he brushes his fingers against the skin just beneath your bikini bottom. and then you both hear: “ya gotta share, sixer. can’t hog her all to yerself.”

✧ they both look at you like they’d devour you right there if they could

✧ Stan likes to tease, but he’s downright filthy when he gets you alone in the water. the sunlight makes your skin glisten beautifully and he can’t keep his hands off you. “ain’t nobody around, cmon,” he whispers in your ear as his fingers sneak beneath your bikini bottoms. “lemme feel ya, darlin’.” the saltwater does nothing to cool the burn as his fingers press in slowly and your body trembles, while his free hand holds you steady against him, his cock hard against your ass

✧ Ford acts all gentlemanly at first, adjusting your sun hat when the wind threatens to blow it off, complimenting how stunning you look with the ocean behind you. but you just have to tease him, so you lean into him and whisper something sweet and a little filthy in his ear. his reaction is immediate when he pulls you into the shade of a lifeguard tower, slipping his hand under your bikini as he kisses you and grinds his hips against you

✧ Stan cant help himself, he likes to watch your lips wrapped around the straw of your drink. it drives him wild. guess why

✧ Ford’s chest a little pink from the sunburn he’ll complain about later, but right now, he’s distracted by the way Stan’s fingers are trailing up your thigh as he applies sunscreen on you. he spreads the slick lotion higher, closer to where your thighs meet. Ford glares, but he doesn’t stop him; instead, he leans down and kisses your shoulder, saying something about needing to check for missed spots

✧ uh. . . imagine sneaking off to one of those little wooden beach huts which are meant for changing clothes, but it barely fits all three of you. but don’t be sad, the cramped space only makes things hotter!

✧ you’re dripping wet from a late afternoon swim and your bikini clings to your skin what makes Stan whistle and Ford fumble with his towel. the sun is setting behind you, turning everything in this golden, honey-like colour and you look like something out of a dream for both twins. “y-you’ll catch a cold,” Ford says as he wraps the towel around your shoulders. “nah, she’s burnin’ up already, don’t u see,” Stan is already behind you as he kisses your neck and the towel falls to the sand

✧ there’s something so funny but intimate about the way they take turns rubbing sunscreen onto your skin, even when you protest you’re fine on your own

[never-ending-fanfic]

More of my sweet little baby✨

Warning: she's too cute

Tala in a variety of fits I couldn't resist but put her in

Explanation of the fits under the cut, from the top, left to right

Tala at the beach in the cutest cherry swimsuit, grumpy at the sand castle having the audacity to collapse

the blue dress is her outfit as a flower girl at Hera and Kanan's wedding (and he's alive and well and def not dead in this AU, she's also gonna be the best older cousin to Jacen)

the green overalls were embriodered by Sabine and given to Tala as a birthday gift at some point and she just loves them so much she could wear them everyday (and sometimes refuses and pouts when Kallus suggests something else)

Tala in Kallus' rebel captain jacket, cause it's so wholesome when kids try on their parents clothes adbsgxgsjbx

Tala after spending a day with auntie Sabine, they spent their time painting and making jewelry (Kallus was horrified at the hair and ready to strangle Sabine before she assured him it'll wash off)

Tala in a dress that just screams "fr my mom put me in this when I was a baby" vibe to me personally

The last one is my favourite, she's so freaking cute in the yellow dress, I just cannot believe how sweet she looks

[protagaster]

Part 2 of the Warrior!Penelope Swap AU

I really wanted to introduce the crew's Golden Trio, or the ladies who are Penelope's version of Eurylochus & Polites. I think you'll all really like them :)!

(Cross-Posted on Ao3)

Full Speed Ahead

Finally, after having won the Trojan War and securing the future of the Greek world, Penelope and her crew brave the sea to make their way back home.  

~

Finally, after 10 long years, it was over. 

10 years of what many assumed would be endless warfare. 

10 years of watching husbands and wives be ripped away from each others’ embrace, of parents having to wipe the tears of their children whilst hiding their own, of being forced to say goodbye to the homes they spent their whole lives searching for. 

10 years of having to watch their friends and comrades be forever changed by the turmoils of war. Some were killed, those lucky few, while the others had the rest of their lives to adapt to their new bodies. 

10 years of constant battle, both mental and physical, in an effort to survive whilst knowing they would never be the same again. 

It was a long and hard-sought after ending, but against all odds the Greeks had managed it.

The Trojan War had officially come to an end.  

But by the Gods it wasn’t easy. 

Throughout that very first year of war everything that could have gone wrong, well, it went wrong. 

After the battle that took place subsequent to Helen’s rescue, practically every Greek man found his body to be damaged beyond repair. While many were expected to recover after long periods of rest, being told they would one day be able to wield their weapons in the name of spars, hunting, and training, they knew they could never again fight in a battlefield. 

That’s when the decree from the Gods came. 

Greece still needed an army. Because their men were no longer fit for war, it was the duty of the women to take their place in the battlefield. 

Once a daughter of Sparta, and later chosen to become the student of the God of War himself, Penelope was first to be picked for combat; her closest friends were picked shortly after. A small percentage of Ithaca’s women, those who were of age and considered skilled enough to survive Troy, were also forced to follow suit. 

It was a difficult decade, everyone could agree. There were times when even Penelope began to lose hope of this war ever coming to an end, all the blood and screaming permanently etched into her memory. 

But now, thanks to her tactical mind and ferocious combat prowess, the Greeks emerged victorious! 

No longer will she need to worry about every single decision of hers being questioned by her subordinates. 

No longer will she have to worry about the sounds of screams haunting her memories, hearing them at night as they keep her awake. 

No longer will she have to worry about a single one of her comrades being killed for the sake of pride, for she no longer had any enemies that would wish her nor her sisters harm.

~

Penelope sighed happily. 

Only moments ago she had bid a tearful goodbye to her cousin; Helen and Menelaus boarded a ship to Sparta, ecstatic they now had the rest of their lives to spend together. The same went for the rest of her sisters-in-arms, ready to finally live out the rest of the lives they had left behind. 

Something the women of Ithaca were hoping to achieve. 

Standing at the front of her ship, Penelope watched as the place that was once known as the Kingdom of Troy shrink smaller and smaller with distance. Soon there was no more land, only miles and miles of shimmering blue ocean water.

Penelope did not mind. 

After all, Ithaca was a kingdom surrounded by beaches. The ocean was like an old companion; though she may be unpredictable at times, you could always count on her to be right where you left her. 

She let the sea breeze blow through her hair, smelled the scent of sand and saltwater as they envelop her senses, and felt the cool air of open water embrace her like an old friend. 

Taking a peak over her shoulder, Penelope looked at each individual member aboard her main vessel. 

44 women. 

44 out of 600, to be exact. While Penelope knew she could trust every member of her fleet, especially with their gratitude in them all coming out of the war alive, there was just something different about the 44 women aboard her main vessel. 

There was an extra level of trust she put into these women in particular. Penelope knew inside her heart that out of her entire fleet, the members of this ship would be the first to support her no matter what.

Pulling herself out of her thoughts and returning to the moment at hand, Penelope watched as each of her sisters l did her individual part to ensure the ship navigated the wild waters quickly and smoothly. 

Looking over at the other 11 ships following her own, Penelope could see the women aboard those crafts were doing the same. 

Behind each and every woman's hard work and determination was a sense of excitement; finally, after 1 year of helplessness and 9 years of struggle, they were making their way back to Ithaca. 

“Six hundred friends,” Penelope sang out proudly, her sweet voice a melody flowing merrily with the sea's wind. “All of these women under my command! With only one goal in mind-” 

“Make it back alive to our homeland!” Her comrades finished for her. 

“Six hundred friends,” Penelope couldn’t help but be amazed as she ogled the powerful waves supporting her fleet, unable to help stretching her hand over the horizon.  “Six hundred miles of open sea,” 

Penelope eyebrows furrowed despite her cheer, for she knew deep within that her story was only just beginning 

“But the problem's not the distance-”

“It's what lies in between.” The others agreed. 

“And Ithaca's waiting!” Penelope belted. 

“Ithaca's waiting!” The others repeated.

“My kingdom is waiting!” Penelope's eyes glazed with yearning, knowing her home was only so far away. 

“The kingdom is waiting!” Her sisters exclaimed. 

Penelope smiled to herself, looking up at her still outstretched hand. Right there, standing out against the suns’ beams and tides’ gleam,  her wedding ring sparkled against the light blue background. 

Not once, these past ten years, had she allowed the ring to part from her person. The ring, a band of silver and ivory that was both modest and gorgeous, symbolized so much more to her than the union between her and her beloved husband. 

To Penelope, it was a reminder of the goal she’d work so hard to achieve for the past decade. What she promised herself she’d accomplish, no matter what it took. 

“Odysseus’ waiting for me!” 

Waiting...

“So full speed ahead…” 

Penelope gave her wedding ring a quick kiss, something she couldn’t help but do every time her eyes lingered on it. Letting her arm relax to her side, Penelope’s perspective of the sea once again claimed her eye. 

“Full speed ahead…” 

The sea breeze blew through her long dark hair, loose and free to sway like the waves below, and kissed her blooming cheeks, giving the appearance of a heroine of legend to all who gazed upon her.

“Captain!” 

Penelope was quick to give her full attention to the one who called out her name, for she recognized the voice of the women whose guided and stayed by her side since the day she first called Ithaca home. 

There she was, the shortest, strongest, and most trusted member of Penelope’s main crew. 

Ctimene.

Though she was small, Ctimene was not one to be underestimated. Even though it was her brother who was blessed with Athena’s guidance, the Goddess of Wisdom was also apt to pay special attention to his younger sister. 

Not only was she an occasional skeptic and formidable warrior in her own right, she was, of course, the princess of Ithaca. Fourth in the Kingdom’s hierarchy behind only Penelope, her brother Odysseus, and her niece Telemachas.

Her short wavy hair, mirroring that of her elder brother’s, tousled in the sea’s gale, perfectly framing her stern but caring eyes. Ctimene was one of the people whose beauty could never fade despite the amount of blemishes she obtained. Somehow, the faint scar going over her right eye only made her more attractive to the men who gazed upon her.

It was no wonder Eurylochus fell in love in such little time. 

Ctimene, with one hand on her hip, placed her other hand on her much taller captain’s arm. She gestured to a cluster of wooden barrels that were supposed to be filled. 

“Six hundred friends! Six hundred friends with starved mouths to feed,” she wordlessly commanded one of their comrades to tip a barrel, revealing its very empty contents. “And we've run out of supplies to eat.” 

“Curse the war, our food stores depleted.” 

“Six hundred friends,” Ctimene clenched her fists, unsure of whether she could withstand even more suffering for her friends. 

“Six hundred reasons to take what we can!” Ctimene, unsure of what they should do with this dilemma, looked to her sister-in-law with curiosity. “So captain, what's the plan?”

“Captain, what's the plan?”

Everyone wondered what plan the brilliant Penelope, Queen of Ithaca, the very reason behind the war’s end, could come up with in the face of this problem. 

Penelope only smiled, gesturing Ctimene to look up at the sky.

“Watch where the birds fly,” 

“Watch where the birds fly,” Her crew repeated after her. 

“They will lead us to land!” 

“They will lead us to land!” 

“There we'll hunt for food, my second in command,” Penelope spoke with courage, nothing but the utmost confidence in herself and her crew. 

“Now full speed ahead!” Penelope ordered her comrades to follow the large flock of birds, all of whom were heading east. “Full speed ahead!”

Ctimene, with a satisfied smile and complete trust in her captain’s plan, was quick to help Penelope direct the ships to their desired destination. 

“We're up, we're off, and away we go!” 

“We're up, we're off, and away we go.” The women all chanted as they managed the ships, all of whom with full faith in their Queen.

“Full speed ahead!” Penelope continued to cry with enthusiasm. 

“We're up, we're off, and away we go!” 

And with that, the 12 ships set sail following their avian guides. 

~

The fleet had been following the birds for quite a while, so long that the sun began to make contact with the ocean; the combination of their hues made for an enchanting mix of orange, pink, and blue. 

All this time Penelope had not once stopped herself from looking up, even when her neck began to sore and her eyes grew heavy. The birds should have found their way to the nearest land by now, so why hadn't they chosen to land just yet? 

“Captain!”

The second voice to call out for her that day, this one also familiar. However, this voice had a much more merry tone compared to the previous. 

Penelope met the eyes of the woman who seized her attention, unable to control her smile even if she wanted to. 

“Circes!”

Circes was the youngest of the friend group, though not by much. Like Ctimene, Penelope had first made Circe’s acquaintance shortly after making herself at home in Ithaca.

Once a simple village girl with nothing more than her optimism and clothes on her back, Circes and Penelope were quick to become close friends after the Ithacan native made an effort to teach her new Queen all about Ithaca’s culture and customs. Ctimene was almost always by Penelope’s side at that time, naturally leading to a bond between the Circes and the princess as well. 

After years of sparring, weaving, and simply enjoying the atmosphere of their home with each other as company, it was no wonder the three women grew as close as they are. 

Circes was a beautiful woman, which only made it more confusing once others realized she had never married. She was taller than Ctimene, though shorter than Penelope. Circes had light brown hair as long as Penelope's, always braided to the side. There'd always be a pink ribbon streaked between the locks, the ends knotted in a way that it almost resembled a rose; many of the other women would joke she was practically born with it.

Circes was a cheerful young lady who saw the best in others, eager to use words before resorting to weapons. However, do not mistake her altruism for naiveté; Circes was still a warrior and survivor of the Trojan war. 

She just preferred to use the same philosophy that blessed her with a Goddess’ name. 

“Look!” Circes pointed toward the horizon, where a tiny speck was beginning to grow larger and more distinct as the ship inched closer. “There in the distance, I see an island, I see a light that faintly glows,” 

It was just as Circes said. 

Now practically within swimming distance of the mysterious island, every woman could see a bright orange glow emanating from within the foliage.  

“Maybe they're people lighting a fire. Maybe they'll share some food, who knows?” 

… 

No, Penelope thought to herself, feeling something was wrong. 

From a single glance the captain could sense something sinister about the Island. It was perfect. 

Too perfect. 

“Something feels off here…” Penelope looked up at the Island’s sky, confirming her suspicions. “I see fire but there's no smoke…” 

Ctimene, one who truly embraced Ares’ philosophy, already had one hand ready on the hilt of her broadsword. 

“I say we strike first! We don't have time to waste so let's raid the place and-” 

“No.” 

Both Ctimene and Circes gazed in shock, for Penelope was a stickler for manners and not one to interrupt others mid-speech. However, the woman in question just couldn’t allow herself to entertain Ctimene’s plan for even a second. 

Penelope can’t needlessly kill anyone else!

She just can’t…

… 

…that time…the infant… 

That was the whim of the Gods! She had to do it! 

She had no choice…

…

But this time she does! Penelope can choose whether she wants to show ruthlessness or mercy! 

And this time, she chooses mercy. 

“Circes gear up.” Penelope ordered of her friend. “You and I'll go ahead.” 

“You and I'll go ahead!” Circes repeated happily, realizing Penelope wanted to try things her way. 

“We should try to find a way no one ends up dead.”

Ctimene, however, just could not allow herself to agree with this plan. 

“We don't know what's ahead!” The second-in-command reminded, hoping her sister would give this “plan” some more thought. 

Unfortunately for Ctimene, Penelope was as stubborn a woman as a woman could be. 

“Give me 'til sunrise,” Penelope pleaded, placing a reassuring hand on Ctimene’s shoulder. “And if we don't return-” 

Penelope gestured to the large army of women ready to fight in her name.

“Then six hundred friends will make this whole place burn!” 

Beckoning Circes to follow her, Penelope ran toward the rafts attached to the side of the ship’s hull. 

“Now full speed ahead!” 

Circes and Ctimene glanced at the other, aware that despite their strong bond they both had very different approaches to their views and life and means of self-preservation. 

Still, orders were orders. 

“Full speed ahead!” The rest of the crew chanted amongst themselves. 

With a small shrug, Circes ran to meet her captain from within the small raft.

Ctimene, despite a light shake of her head in what was clear disapproval, went on to command the rest of the women in her captain’s stead. 

“Full speed ahead!”

“We're up, we're off, and away we go!” Penelope untied the raft’s bindings, Circes quick to lend a hand. 

We're up, we're off, and away we go-

With both women having released the raft from all of its bindings, their weapons on their persons should the worst come to be, they were prepared to sail. 

“Full speed ahead!” 

Lowering the raft onto the calm black of night’s ocean, Penelope and Circes began to row themselves toward the lone isle.  

We're up, we're off, and away we go-

The others watched Penelope and Circes sail to the island, hoping for the best and prepared for the worst. 

Despite her previous dispositions, Ctimene watched them with a look of genuine worry. She prayed to the Gods above for her friends’ safe returns, for who knew what they could encounter in this journey.  

We're up, we're off, and a-

“Full speed ahead!”

It was not long, practically minutes if one were counting, before Penelope’s and Circes’ raft made contact with the island’s sand. 

[a-twistedheartslonging]

This is a pretty dark ask so feel free to ignore this if you feel like it but I read somewhere that when lions take over the pride of another lion, they’ll kill all dominant males and cubs

This prompts to wonder, if Yuu already had a partner and child, would that mean that Leona would be willing to get rid of them in your nonhuman AU to make Yuu available again?

Oooooh, I love dark asks, send as many as you want.

Depends, if we are going with Yandere Leona then yes to killing the partner but no to killing the kid. He's probably gonna be a distant stepdad since he doesn't like or want kids, but the kid is a part of you, and he loves you and doesn't want to hurt you. But then again, the kid might grow on him, like those dads who didn't want a pet cat/dog, but they end up being best friends.

Plus, the kid can be used to keep you from wanting to leave him. The little guy is probably going to be used to keep his nephew distracted so he finally leaves him the hell alone. But hey, now Cheka has a cousin his age to be best friends with and your child will have anything they could want. (and Leona's brother will such the fuck up about "when are you going to have kids?")

It's actually canon that Scar from The Lion King had an adopted kid and a bio one, I think.

None Yandere Leona won't kill but will try to pull a Mr. Steal Yo Girl and show you what a better life he can provide you and your child. Aside from the killing thing everything else will be the same as above....well unless the partner was abusive to you and/or your kid.

Even if he wasn't a prince with political power that can make anything go away it's pretty easy to get rid of a body when you have the power to turn anything and anyone into sand.

[cryptidclaw]

Shriketail!

Pre-Blinding version v

Design Notes:

I gave him a less Oriental shorthair inspired body type this time since he's adopted instead of Downnose's bio-kit now and and I need to stop myself from making too many Thunder cats have Wind Order type builds LOL. TBH I think this design looks more like how in envision him anyways!

Character Bio:

Shriketail

(Longtail)

Gay; he/him

Age as of 1st arc's beginning: 11 moons; 15 Hyrs

Age as of 1st arc's end: 2 cycles, 8 moons; ~26 Hyrs

Title meaning: -tail =  a cat with great balance and who always lands on their feet; often a jack of all trades as balance is used in almost every skill

Warrior of Thunder Order; he was the unofficial Second/acting Second for a while after Sandstorm's presumed death, but he never wanted the full position and was happy to return to normal Warrior duties once Fire chose a new Second.

Mentor: Darkstripe

Mother (adoptive): Downnose

Mate: Star Firesight

Queer Platonic Partner: Sandstorm

Kits: Squirrelflight (sire: Sand); Leafpool; Foxleap (sire: Sand); Icecloud

Grandkits: Star Hollyleaf; Falconstrike; Jaywing; Alderheart; Sparkfire

Other notable kin (Note! Shrike is adopted so none of his kin is related by blood!): Cricketstep (uncle); Star Ravenscourge (uncle); Dustpelt (uncle); Cloudtail (cousin); Snowshoe (cousin); Mistletoe (cousin); Spiderleg (cousin); Shrew (cousin)

Character Summary:

In Progress (to be added later)

...

[Image 1 ID: a digital drawing of Shriketail, an AU version of Longtail from Warrior Cats. He is standing with his left side showing and a cocky, determined grin of his face. He is a slender, short furred, light brown tabby tom with black stripes and a white underbelly, legs and lower face. His face has pink jagged scars running over his eyes and across his face and is eyes are are cloudy blue with pink surrounding the pupils. s left ear is torn at the tip, his nose is light pink and he has a spikey tuft of black hair on his head simulating bangs./End ID]

[Image 2 ID: a digital drawing of Shriketail, an AU version of Longtail from Warrior Cats. This image is the same as the previous one, but he has no scars on his face, and his eyes are not cloudy./End ID]

[gallaghersgal]

Hi there! How are we doing on this fine sunday? I spent the day at the beach and of course, that gave me some ideas so ahem ahem ✨beach day with carmy bear✨

First let’s talk about the most obvious thing ever but…this man looks HAWT okay?!!? He already does on a daily basis, doing the most regular things ever but at the beach????? 74 dead, 192 injured.

anyway yeah he looks really good but also:

You manage to whisk him away for a few days, just the two of you to relax and you rent a small house by the beach. Your goal is basically to get him to slow down a bit, catch up on some sleep and have fun, you know?That in itself is tough because he!!cannot!!relax!!!!!!!!! But he’s also very very in love so he agrees for a weekend away.

He carries all the bags because he was raised a gentleman and there’s no way you lift one pretty finger of yours k?

You insist on putting sunscreen on his back and face and okay maybe it’s just an excuse to give him a nice massage and maybe he knows that but plays along too

But he’s just as protective, always making sure you’re hydrated and you’re wearing your hat if you’re seating in the sun.

i might be almost 21 but playing in the waves!!!!!! and making sand castles!!!!! at first he might think it’s a little silly but not in a mean way, just the kind of thing he doesn’t think of to have fun because he just doesn’t have fun yk? but he helps you and realizes it is actually fun. it definitely turns into a competition btw and you end up both winning and eating ice cream as a reward.

Playing cards too!! i feel like he knows one or two great cars games that he’d teach you, something he got from Mickey or Cousin maybe?

also napping on the beach. he lays his head on your belly while you read and you’re playing with his hair and the weather is nice and it’s actually pretty good to feel the sun on his skin and—when you notice he’s sleeping, you don’t move, just let him take whatever he needs.

you 100% make sure to take a billion pictures of him, of the two of you (you send one of him sleeping to nat <3) and he tries to take aesthetic pictures of you, he snaps a few more just to keep for himself.

a lot of talking too!!! he’s been working a lot, you too, life got in the way so you take the time to catch up—you tell him about the new show you want to start with him, he tells you about a flea market he’d like to check out. It feels nice to catch up and somehow it reassures him? Like his anxiety gets too much and he’s scared you might be unhappy but then you talk and you tell him you love him and you want to do things with him and his chest feels less heavy.

who says day at the beach, says watching the sunset together. of course it’s beautiful but carmy keeps looking at you and the way the light seems to hit your features so perfectly well because he’s a sap.

You get a little cold and he’s instantly handing you his sweater. And I just know his heart melts when you nuzzle closer to him <3

I love to think he’d stay up at night to listen to the ocean. He can’t sleep because his mind is too loud so he goes on the little patio and listens to the sounds of the waves on the shore. Maybe you join him, rest your head on his shoulder and enjoy the moment with him. he hasn’t felt this happy in a long time.

-🧸

hey so something you don't know about me is that i love the beach more than literally any other place on earth!!!!! i went to the OBX a lot as a kid and it shaped me into the woman i am today!!!!! i love the beach!!!!!!!!!!!! i even had a finnpoe beach au that was like. god. it was at minimum 10k words and it wasn't even complete yet. i would just work on it when at the beach house my father took me to cause there was no wifi there- but enough ab me!!!!!

i agree that baby boy canNOT relax, poor thing. but you could talk him into it saying he can try all kinds of new restaurants and get some ideas for a seafood course for the bear menu <33 and ughhh i just. staying in a cutie little beach house with him!!! i used to go to the beach every year and when i got old enough to really appreciate the whole day, my fav thing became evening walks and i know those would sooth his soul sooo much

"there’s no way you lift one pretty finger of yours k?" i will sob??? i will actually cry and scream and roll around on the floor???? god i just. carmen carrying your bags upstairs to the house while you take stock of all the general beach things available in the shed underneath. yall know how beach houses are on stilts? yeah like that. and placing your shampoo and body wash and things in the outdoor shower so it can be used first thing, because once everything is unloaded all you wanna do is walk down to the ocean and once you're there, well, who isn't gonna jump in!

massaging the sunscreen into his back, the way he would sigh a little, and you can press soft kisses to his cheek as you do so. ugh i looveeeee him!!!! he would be so so protective, making sure there's plenty of snacks, and if you're hungry he'll walk the beach with you until you find a little sandwich shop or taco place for whatever you wanna eat. he's confused at first why you're making a sand castle, preferring to sit and read his book, but suddenly he's finished with a chapter and spending time with his girl seems so much more fun, so before he knows it he's packing wet sand into the mould sitting across from you, sandy shins and messy hair, but he's all smiley too

the poor thing would get so exhausted from playing in the waves, probably bc he's not used to it. swimming in the ocean really takes it out of you!! so when you're laid out under the umbrella reading he grumbles like "babe, lemme... c'mere," and tugs you just a little closer to rest his head on your tummy :((( playing with his curls while they dry from the salt water, forming them into perfect little spirals, putting a little braid here and there

just talking to each other and catching up in such a relaxed setting is so sweet im gonna sob. maybe y'all snagged a beachfront place so you can watch the sun set over the water ((i have never seen this... #eastcoast)) while you're sitting on the rlly comfy deck chairs, he's got a beer and you've got a little cocktail he made you, and you're playing cards and chatting about what's been going on lately. just sitting out there together listening to the waves, wrapped up in his sweater from his culinary school i- i genuinely cannot. i love him and i love the beach. I LOVE HIM AND I LOVE THE BEACH!!!!!!!

tldr; me and 🧸 love the beach and carmy so much

[violettduchess]

Hello Vi! I have a request for you, only if it inspires

Tutor AU! With one or more of your fave suitors tutoring you for your upcoming exams;

Leonardo, Comte, Gilbert, Leon, Silvio and Clavis!

I'd love to see what you come up with ❤️❤️❤️

A/N: I had a very immediate idea for Comte so I went with him for this request!

Comte x Reader, Tutor AU/ Modern AU

WC: ~1.9k

The library looms large as you hurry up the wide, slate-colored steps under a sky exhaling its last breath of evening color. The stars are slowly blinking into existence, determined to shine before they are hidden behind the slow-moving blanket of clouds heading their way. You would pause to enjoy the ephemeral moment when dusk ebbs into night.....

Except Comte is inside, waiting for you.

You’re still not sure how it’s come to this. Comte as your tutor. Your mind travels back several weeks….

Several weeks ago:

One minute you're balancing an armful of books along with your backpack and several bags of uneven groceries that are seriously testing your stubborn decision to do it all in ONE trip. The next, however, everything is falling onto the polished grey tile floor of your building’s lobby, the objects seeming to leap like lemmings out of your arms. As you stand there, staring defeatedly at the scattered mess, lost in the gravity of your poor decision, the elevator doors you were originally trying to reach slide open and like the pearly gates unveiling an angel, Comte de St Germain steps out, in the process of buttoning his elegant camel-colored coat with one hand.

Before you can say a word, he takes in your forlorn expression, the embarrassing pile of your things at your feet, and he is by your side, kneeling, helping you gather up your stray apples and the mini-boxes of cereal you are probably way too old for but love anyway. Your cheeks flush as you stammer a thank you. 

You know him more by reputation than actual acquaintance. He lives in the sprawling penthouse at the apex of your building, the crowning glory of the gothic structure, and is usually spoken about in whispers and sighs by the other residents:

“Comte? He’s a museum director downtown.”

“I hear he is a world-famous antique dealer who has made millions.”

“He’s gotta be a tech-millionaire with all that dough.”

“Well I know someone who knows someone who swears he’s a member of the royal family of some tiny European country.”

“I don’t care what he does. He’s got to be loaded to live up there.”

“I hear he’s never been married.”

“My cousin’s best friend’s neighbor's babysitter says he’s divorced from someone super famous.”

“You know what he is? I'll tell ya. Drop dead gorgeous.”

This mysterious man with eyes the color of desert sands is on the ground in his expensive suit and coat, helping you gather your plebeian things and oh, do you want to melt into the floor and disappear.

Until……

He stops, holding one of the books you had been juggling, a surprised expression crossing his classically beautiful face.

“‘The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire’ by Edward Gibbon. Fourth edition.” He seems impressed, curiosity flaring to life in the mesmerizing gold of his eyes.

And you take that lifeline, words stumbling over themselves across the knot of your tied tongue as you explain you are a graduate student, majoring in history, mentally preparing yourself for the avalanche of final exams heading your way.

And how he smiles, his long fingers tracing the embossed lettering along the spine of your book, borrowed from the local library. Entranced by the movement, you can't look away from his hand, reverence hushing his voice as he explains how he works for a museum (Points to the woman in Apartment 15B for getting that one), how he also studied history.

And then one thing leads to another and your rambling about the stress of your exams and crunch for time has evolved into Comte St. Germain, the mysterious Bruce Wayne of your building, offering to tutor you.

The Present:

And now here you stand, the night of your final session, heart prowling, turning circles in your chest like an unruly feline.

Taking a steadying breath, you continue up the steps and head inside, enjoying the sound of your heeled boots across the polished wooden floor. Past towering shelves filled with books you go until you reach the narrow iron staircase in the back, the one that spirals upwards to the second floor. Your feet follow the path they have gotten used to over the last few weeks, through the racks, down a narrow gangway until you reach the small cluster of tables at the western corner of the library, the ones underneath the imposing arched window that allows you a clear view of the darkening sky and the pale orange glow of the streetlamp across the street.

Comte looks up from the book he has been reading and offers you a smile, at once familiar and exotic.

“Ah, there you are, chérie. Ready for our final session?”

Something inside you constricts at the thought that this is the last time you will be here with him like this, tucked away in the surprising intimacy of a large public library, listening to his honeyed voice as you discuss not only history, but also the mundane: what music he listens to when he goes on long drives, his favorite type of wine, the best tea for a rainy Sunday morning. And it isn't just his speaking….Comte listens. He really listens when you talk, when you ask questions, when you give an opinion. He rests his chin on his hand, head tilted ever so slightly, his entire attention focused on you, whether you are explaining the fine points of one of the many Treaties of Paris or doing your best to convince him that dipping your French fries in your milkshake really does make them taste better. 

With the glow of remembrance in your smile, you slide into the seat next to him, running your fingers along the soft grain of the elegant wooden chair as you settle in.

“Ready as I'll ever be,” you say, returning his smile while looking at the array of books he has spread out across the table. “Let’s do this.”

“Oui,” he says as his smile curves into a grin. “Tonight we’re focusing on art for your art history final. You already sent me the list of pieces your professor wants you to know for your exam so we can work our way through those.”

You breathe in, trying not to get distracted by the warm, earthy scent of his cologne.

“Professor Leonardo is great but it’s such a long list….” Your shoulders slump at the thought of tackling everything on it. And then you feel Comte’s hand there, on your forearm, warm even through the soft material of your blouse.

“Then let us begin.”

He spends hours, guiding you through Girl with the Pearl Earring, The Birth of Venus, Las Meninas, and Water Lillies. You wander through the great masters like an enamored visitor in an enchanted garden, listening as Comte helps you to remember what you have learned about the paintings as well as unlocking secrets you have never heard before. He leads you through the design of the Colosseum, the Parthenon, Hagia Sofia, Notre Dame, his voice a golden thread that spins you across the architectural wonders. And now, in your final hour of study, he opens the book of sculptures. You visit Rodin’s Thinker, Michelangelo’s David, the Venus de Milo. And finally, you come to the last sculpture on your list: Psyche Revived by Cupid’s Kiss by Antonio Canova.

“Ah…” He pulls the book closer, the photograph of the sculpture filling the page. “This….is a masterpiece of….” He glances over at you, brow lifted as he waits for the answer.

“Neoclassicism…but with strong elements of the Romantic, given the subject matter.”

“Bien joué.” The praise falls from his lips softly, slides over you like melting wax, sends a jolt of heat across your skin. He doesn’t seem to notice as he flattens down the pages with both hands, his bright eyes roaming over the image.

“So you know the story of Cupid and Psyche?”

You try to remember what Professor Leonardo explained in class when he had introduced the sculpture. “She opened a forbidden jar and was put to sleep as punishment?” 

Comte nods. “Venus forbid Psyche from opening the jar. It supposedly held Divine Beauty. Psyche could not resist temptation and instead of beauty, she was overcome by the Sleep of Innermost Darkness.” He grins slowly. “Very dramatic. Cupid sees his lover unconscious and pricks her with an arrow, awakening her. This sculpture captures that moment.”

Outside the library window, the streetlamp glows a soft orange. A light rain is now falling, making the light seem as if it is dancing, shimmering against the night.

“Just look at the lines,” he murmurs. He takes his index finger and slowly begins tracing the line of Psyche’s body. It follows the curve of her torso as she stretches up towards Cupid. “Her arms reach back for him.”

You lean in, closer to Comte, watching the path his finger makes along the glossy page. Your heart is suddenly hammering a woodpecker’s song against your breastbone.

“Her hands are in her lover’s hair, the gesture so familiar, so loving.” He traces down the line of Psyche's neck. “And here….she is bent back to him, so exposed and vulnerable, tilting to look up into his face. What do you see there?”

His voice winds itself around you, wrapping you in golden vines of warmth and want. You need a moment to find your own. When you do, it is only capable of expressing itself in a breathless whisper.

“Tenderness. Joy.”

He nods slowly, trailing his finger down Cupid’s strong arm. “And what do you see in him?”

Your thoughts are bright butterflies, sparks that fly up into the haze of your mind and explode in little pinpricks of light. Blinking, trying to control the overwhelming wave of attraction that threatens to pull you under, you reach out and touch the same page, your fingers scant centimeters from his.

“He’s…..adoring. The way he holds her head, his fingers touching her face. And he’s smiling at her, affectionately. Openly.” Your gaze drops down to where Comte’s finger points to Cupid’s left arm. You clear your throat and continue. “He covers her breasts with his arm, shielding her from the viewer, and yet that one hand holds her in a way that’s….it’s so intimate. It feels somehow more intimate than if we would see her bare.” Your voice is a whisper, soft and woven through with delicate wisps of yearning. “He touches her as if he’s done it a hundred times and still revels in it…..” You trail off, pressing your lips together, unable to go on.

Comte’s fingers brush against yours and you turn your head, startled to find that your faces are so very close. Outside the rain gently rolls down the massive glass window. The streetlamp flickers. Comte’s gaze is a steady golden sun.

“He adores her,” he murmurs, his voice rolling through you. You feel his fingers move, covering yours on the page. 

“She marvels at him,” you answer quietly, your fingers curling around his in response.

He leans down ever so slightly, his mouth so close you can feel the warmth of his words on your lips. “He dreams of her……” 

“.....and he is what makes her waking sublime…” The words are hardly more than the breaths between heartbeats.

His mouth brushes faintly against yours, the softest touch, a silken feather, a velvet caress.

“....He wants nothing more…..” His hand tightens around yours, his chest rising and falling with the contained power of his emotion. “...than to kiss her….”

“He should,” you say, soft as a nightingale welcoming a summer evening. "He should kiss her."

And he does, pressing his lips against yours as the wave that has been looming ever closer pours down upon you both. One hand rises, gripping the nape of your neck with tender ardor. You plunge your free hand into the soft wilderness of his tawny hair, opening your mouth to taste him.

Your other hand? It is still tightly holding onto his, a promise you won’t let go.

An echo of Cupid and his beloved Psyche.

Pysche Revived by Cupid's Kiss- Antonio Canova, 1793

Tagging: @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @olivermorningstar @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @ikesimpleton @ikemenlibrary @namine-somebodies-nobody @cellophanediamond @whatever-fanfics @justpeachyteastea @chirp-a-chirp @got7igot7family @kookie-my-little-sunshine @mastering-procrastinating @portrait-ninja @fang-and-feather @bubblexly @kiki-tties

[sea-owl]

on the sand cousins au, thoughts on sakura being in line for kazekage (it was hereditary, right? I can't imagine they'd elect gaara.)

also sand siblings with an intense ass grudge against sasuke lol

ur meeting ur gfs fam and u tried to kill her cousins, they've tried to kill you, and ur gf could've been kazekage, if she wasn't born in konoha.

You know I don't know. Was the kazekage position hereditary? Wouldn't surprise me if it was.

I don't think Sakura would be in line for it, though. In my head, it was always Mebuki and Karura, the sand siblings' mother, who were related. How closely related is up to you guys.

But lmao them having a grudge against Sasuke. Maybe that's how they ended up on the retrieval arch (seriously they had to he close for them to come to the rescue like that. Sand and Leaf are canonically three days journey from one another) The sand siblings were coming to visit and oh hell no. This dude made their cousin cry. Where's he at? Don't worry Sakura we'll go help Naruto drag him back to the village. Years later Temari sends a message to Kankuro and Gaara to hurry their asses up to visit Konoha. Not only do they got Shikadai to visit but Sakura came home with Uchiha and they have a baby. Gaara and Kankuro both curse because now there's no way of getting rid of Uchiha. Sakura why? Bad enough Temari procreated with that lazy ass Nara. They could have found you a nice guy in the Sand village.

Sakura is also pissed off when the Akatsuki took Gaara and poisoned Kankuro. You poisoned her cousin and then KIDNAPPED HER FAVORITE ONE?! Oh, someone was definitely gonna die. Her taking out a missing sand nin was just a bonus to her cousins' village.

Sakura didn't leave Gaara's side for three days after he got back to the village. She claimed it was to make everything was okay medically since he came back to life an all but really she was kinda scared to leave her family member alone.

Now fair warning I do actually like Matsuri and do ship her with Gaara. I think it's cute. I know some of you get weird about it. So stop here if you don't want to see GaarMatsu. You get weird about it I will use the block button.

At some point during Sasuke and Sakura's journey they make a stop in Sand where almost the whole time they're there Sakura is teaming up with Kankuro to match make Gaara and Matsuri.

Gaara will never admit it but Sasuke kinda helped in this area. Both Gaara and Sasuke are more reserved in their emotions. During one drunken night Gaara asks Sasuke how he was able to let go and show his love to Sakura. Gaara doesnt say it but he wants to be able to do that too with Matsuri. To he able to show her he loves her. Sasuke admits he is still learning but it's a process he's working on together with Sakura.

The next day during one of Kankaruo and Sakura's schemes that involve poor oblivious Matsuri Gaara listens to Sasuke's advice and takes the first step in showing his love to Matsuri.

Sakura is ecstatic, Sasuke is happy Sakura is happy.

[godihatethiswebsite]

Desert Oasis

✽ Johnny "Soap" Mactavish x f!reader (The Mummy AU)

Main Masterlist ✽ Ao3

✽ Part 4 - A conversation behind bars

I'm quickly learning that dialogue is a massive pain in the ass and makes this process a gazillion times longer. Also thank you to the small handful of you who have acknowledged my existence and are reading this <3

Walking into a Cairo prison was not how you thought you'd be starting off your afternoon.

When your cousin told you he'd found a guy, he absolutely failed to mention that the man in question had been incarcerated for the past five months for what he claimed was a bit of 'disorderly conduct'. And by that what he really meant was for beating the ever living shit out of some bloke to the point of permanently crippling him.

You ignored the greasy smiles and uncouth jeers as you passed by the other inmates, the weight of Kyle's arm around your shoulders keeping you close a welcome security blanket. Guards banged on the cells to silence their rude remarks, you trying to keep your cool despite your obvious nerves as you were led deeper into the facility.

You didn't understand why your cousin was walking with lighter steps. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that he was no stranger to dealing with dangerous men. Maybe it was simple patriarchal ignorance considering he wasn't the one the comments were being directed at (though he was certainly pretty enough for them you thought to yourself). He was on edge and alert, sure, but it felt more like he was eager for what lay ahead instead of the cautiousness you yourself displayed.

You got your answer when you came to a halt outside a heavy gate, an open air courtyard lay beyond full of all sorts of wirey types of folk. You and Kyle had to be the cleanest people in there as your gaze swept over the group, most coated in a layer of grimy sand and sweat. The guard who had been escorting you through the prison shouted something in Arabic that caught the attention of some of the others standing around, the crowd turning to look towards a singular point near the back of the group as a figure stood up from his spot at a table and made his way over to your location.

He easily stood apart from the rest of the people here, not just because it was clear by his facial features and skin tone that he wasn't a native to these parts, but also just by the way he carried himself. His clothes were ragged same as everyone else inside the cage, but there was a stockiness to his build and a purely male arrogance to his walk. He looked rough from all the time spent in imprisonment; filthy dry skin, hair wildly uneven with oily strands slicked back from his face, a dark messy beard grown quite bushy. Everything about him screamed scoundrel. Hardly seemed the type you should be asking for assistance from.

It didn't escape your notice that as he approached the bars there were a handful of inmates that gave him a wide berth. If this was the type of man that made others like him give pause then who the hell knew what he was capable of.

Apparently your cousin, given the lazy wave being sent his way much to your complete and utter confusion. Your brows furrowed as you glanced between the two of them. Why such familiarity?

Kyle just gives him a shit eating grin leaning against the bars and says, "Hope you didn't have to bend over for anyone in there."

"Nah. They said mah mouth's prettier than mah arse anyways."

Scottish - definitely not an accent you're used to hearing. And just as vulgar as his appearance would suggest, even if your cousin technically encouraged it first with his own remark. It ruffled your skirts the same way his appearance did as he approached and stood only a foot away from the gate, taking an instinctual step back only to be halted by a gentle but firm hand on your lower back by Kyle.

"Dolly," he began, gesturing towards the figure in question, "allow me to introduce you to an old comrade of mine, John MacTavish. John, meet my cousin, dolly."

You had enough manners to politely correct the man with your actual name rather than the fond nickname you're cousin had been referring to you with. He must've recognized yours the same as you had his going by the way his eyebrow quirked up with interest.

"Aye, ah ken who ya are, hen." There's a twinkle of a hidden joke somewhere in those baby blues. "Heard many a tale about ye from this fella 'ere. Yer picture doesnae do ya justice."

It slightly surprises you that he's seen your face before, but it makes sense given the small snapshot you'd sent along with Kyle before his first real foray out into combat. It warms something inside of you that he'd shared the photo with some of the lads he served with.

"So," he crosses his arms over his chest as he returns his attention back to his old teammate. "Are ye 'ere to give me mah sponge bath or did ya jus' miss seein' mah ugly mug too much and decided to pop by fer a wee chinwag?"

Kyle shrugs off his crude comments with an ease that speaks of how common this sort of behavior must be from the man. Going off the tales you'd been told over the years you were sure he was well versed in dealing with his particular brand of behavior. "How's about I'm callin' in a favor for all those times spent digging you out of the mud. You still the same man who'd charge headlong with me into the trenches?"

"As long as ah get tae be the one who jumps in first."

"Even if that leads us into the lost city of Hamunaptra?"

Whatever he thought Kyle was going to say was obviously not that, his turn to look confused as a dark shadow replaced the excited gleam in his eyes. Glancing over his shoulder to make sure we were the closest to being alone as we could get in a place like this, he leaned into our space even more as the metal bars would allow, his voice dropping down into something more hushed as his expression hardened.

"Whaddya doin' in a place like that, Garrick? 'S not somewhere ye take civilized company like the lass 'ere, that's fer damn sure."

"We just want to know if it's real." You speak up for the first time in the conversation, two pairs of eyes suddenly focusing on you with rapt attention that you struggle not to waver under. "We're not looking for trouble. Only the chance to gather as much information as we can about the city's existence."

"It's real, hen. Jus' take mah word on that and leave it be."

Something in you tugs at his refusal, the same feeling as being talked down to by both your parents and Dr. Price emboldens you in a way you normally aren't. Not that it's reflected in your outward stature unfortunately.

"I'm not blind to its fabled history, Mr. MacTavish, but I'm not one for the paranormal either. Take us there long enough for me to know my head isn't just filled with silly notions and storybooks and I'll be satisfied... please."

He considers you for a long moment with eyes more intelligent than his current looks would give him credit for, searching for something in your soul he must find before turning his gaze back to Kyle with a resigned sigh.

"Ah'll not be goin' much of anywhere with these bloody chains 'round mah wrists. Unless ya have the patience ta hold off on this wee expedition 'til ah'm good and free."

"Depends. How much longer you stuck in here?"

"Longer than ah deserve tae be."

Maybe your cousin had rubbed off on you a bit too much over the years. Maybe the well cultivated mind that lost itself quite easily in books of long forgotten kingdoms was just turning its gears wanting to solve a puzzle other than education for a change. Or maybe you just wanted to prove to yourself that just because you aren't as worldly as your two companions that you weren't just some useless thing.

You hold up your palm to them as you glanced around the area, spying one of the guards lingering far enough away to give you a modicum of privacy while forming an idea in your head. Biting your lip nervously, you smoothed out the lines in your garments before you turned and strolled over to the man, hands folded petitely in front of you as you plastered on the most doe-eyed genteel smile that your mother had ingrained in you since you were old enough to begin taking etiquette lessons.

It only took a few demure flutters of your lashes and a well placed touch on his bicep for the guard to lead you away from the caged in courtyard and down a series of hallways, flashing the guys a nervous but reassuring smile that kept Kyle in his place instead of running along after you, having been granted an audience with the warden of the prison.

You tried your best to remain steady on your feet as you were shuffled along to a small office near the back of the compound, very aware you were currently alone with considerably questionable men as you quietly took a deep breath to calm your racing heart. This was the second time today you were about to undergo something well outside your wheelhouse all for the chance to do something incredibly reckless that may or may not even be worth it. With a knock on the door and a beckoning 'enter', you stepped inside the cramped but well lit room to try and barter for a stranger's freedom.

You'd returned a short while later, interrupting whatever hushed conversation they appeared to be engrossed in and looking far more at ease than you left them. Before either one had a chance to open their mouths at your arrival, the warden you'd previously been speaking with was barking out a command in Arabic to some of the guards nearby. For a moment, John began to struggle as two pairs of hands wrapped themselves around his arms, practically growling in objection to being manhandled before the warden spoke up again with a mocking sneer, halting his movements.

"Escort our friend here back to his cell until further notice. Apparently, Scotsman, lady luck is on your side this day."

Once the slimy man retreated out of view, you let out the breath you'd been holding since you began this charade, a hand over your heart and another resting on your cousin's shoulder to help ground yourself. How you got away with that was beyond your comprehension and certainly not something you'd like to repeat again.

"And just what do you call that, dolly?" Kyle inquires with a bemused grin as a slightly befuddled John is lead away by his jailers, glancing over his shoulder at the two of you as he tries to work out whatever mischief you did that managed to get him an early release.

"I call that a proper utilization of my upbringing." You respond with a pleasantly surprised and satisfied smile, catching eyes with your future travel companion and dropping into the most perfectly executed curtsey before turning on your heels to walk back out the way you came, missing the look you're given in return by a man who finally saw a glimpse of the clever lass he'd always heard so much about.

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[Edited 5/8/24: changed formatting, title, tags, and numbering system]

[silver-dragonborn]

A HOTD au where instead of Laena dying by dragon fire/childbirth, she lives on to give birth to a son, Daemion Targaryen, and her husband mysteriously dies of a burst belly. With her newborn son in her arms, Dark Sister at her hip, her two grieving daughters, and an equally grieving Caraxes claimed by Rhaena, Laena returns to Dragonstone for the funeral of her husband. Queen Alicent and her father, once again appointed Hand, secretly rejoice in the death of their despised foe and brazenly make moves to put Aegon II on the throne. The death of Daemon Targaryen has left Viserys a shell of the man he used to be and Rhaenyra struggles to accept the death of her beloved Uncle and the pressure of her inheritance.

But Laena refuses to cave under grief and uses it to drive her to ensure that her children are well cared for and that Rhaenyra's inheritance remains intact and away from the Greens. But envy and restless hearts threaten her plans and Laena finds herself romantically entangled with yet another dragon of fire.

Outside the towering walls of Dragonstone, the wind raged as if joining Laena in her fury. The sea was foaming under the gleaming moon like a cold caress, the sound a small comfort for Rhaenyra as she wrapped her black cloak tighter around herself. She searched one end of the beach to the other before glimpsing Laena standing with water up to her knees, fingers playing with the Dark Sister's hilt.

Rhaenyra didn’t need to see her expression to know she was furious.

Poor, sweet Rhaena with tears on her cheeks and trembling hands had given Caraxes the command to burn Daemon's body, her family standing in support behind her as Queen Alicent along with her father and brood stood a little ways from the flames, but no one had missed the small smile of triumph in the Queen's eyes or the grim look of satisfaction on Otto's face.

Their happiness and Alicent's constant need to force Rhaenyra into a conversation to offer her false condolences had nauseated her to the point where she practically had fled to the beaches to gather herself and speak to Laena...alone.

Heart in her mouth, Rhaenyra strode over towards her, each step shrinking the vastness that had come in between them. Laena did not turn, watching the waves sweep up on the sand before her, her body tensing with each step Rhaenyra took.

“Laena, I'm sorry,” she blurted. “Please, Laena, you mustn't be alone--”

Laena's shoulders moved convulsively, halting her words. “Let us speak plainly, cousin. My husband, your Uncle, is dead and now the vultures show their brazenness without shame and have even expressed an interest in having Dark Sister given to Aemond who displays nothing but Daemon's worst traits. Surely his mother isn’t blind to his viciousness….” Laena's voice trailed away.

“Laena, I know..,” she murmured. When Laena did not reply, Rhaenyra breathed in the salt wind through her nose to clear her mind. She knew. Everyone knew. She was trying so hard and now Daemon-- “I don't think you do know, cousin.” Laena's silver head whipped around, presenting her with the full extent of her grief and Rhaenyra crumbled at the look of agony on her beautiful face. "I don't think you understand just how far your beloved Hightower will go to make a mockery of your grief and twist it to her advantage. You don't...you don't..." Laena's voice trailed off and her expression twisted in a look of despair as she fell to her knees and sobbed. Rhaenyra dashed forward into the water with her and held the sobbing woman in her arms, two dragons of sea and fire lost in their grief as the waves crashed.

"What is to happen to us now?"

"We protect your crown and our children's rights with Fire and Blood. Daemon is gone, but his progeny lives and I swear by the sea, House Hightower will never be free of his shadow." Rhaenyra barely heard Laena's oath, the wind pushing her curly hair into her mouth. She was dragging it free when Laena crushed her palms to her temples and, looming in, crashed her lips to Rhaenyra's with bruising force, a kiss that Rhaenyra immediately returned. The force of their passion consumed them as the two women embraced under the cold moonlight, a promise on their lips.

By fire and sea.

[daenystheedreamer]

we need a list of every canonical gay ally in westeros

ok off the top of my head canonically

JON SNOW ALLY OF THE MILLENNIUM literally died for gay rights. he said fuck the catholic church satin is our BROTHER and he WILL be my squire. suck my DICK. paraphrased. and he got stabbed for it!!! westerosi saint sebastion. and reversed. and he's jesus. AND he could handle they/them pussy.

tyrion :) in the twow sample chapter he sees bokkoko making out with his boyfriend which he observes without judgement. and he's nice to sweets just kinda 🤨 about them and yezzan.

arianne<3 she's somehow confused as to why renly didnt want to fuck her i KNOW modern au arianne wants/has gay best friends. is cool with bisexual legend daemon sand who fucked her uncle and she's like idc he's still #husbandmaterial

olenna tyrell ACTUAL ally of the millennium. of course there's loras but she also settled for mace tyrell cos she knew daeron wanted to run around westeros with his little boyfriend.

on the fence, could go either way:

corlys+rhaenys were cool with gay ivf when they let luke be heir 👍 they still made him marry his cousin though cos feudal bloodlines matter more than the sanctity of gay fatherhood :/

hoster tully. let your gay brother stay unmarried ffs

confirmed homophobes:

FUCKING CERSEI.... remember when she was like UGH i bet that conniving skank margaery has her brothers... proclivities.... perhaps i can get one of her girls to say she beds them... 5 chapters later she's having gay sex. love her whole deal.

balon greyjoy cos he was mean to theon about the necklaces

the evil farman brothers who i shan't even name...

randyll tarly.

[kingsdoodles]

Some stuff to remind myself of for my good gan au.

- Urbosa and Riju are Ganon’s cousins.

- after several centuries of not having a king, the chieftain role still remains after ganon is born. King deals with domestic affairs mostly while chieftain handles foreign and they both keep an eye on the other. Keeps a more balanced ruling.

- Gan was told repeatedly growing up to never stray from his loyalty to his people so he doesn’t become like the past corrupted kings. Being raised this way made him a bit of workaholic and he often puts his needs second to his people.

- Ganondad. He’s fathered a lot of the kids in the gerudo desert. They know he’s their father and sometimes ask him to come play with them. It’s one of his favorite pastimes beyond riding phantom and sand surfing with ghost.

-at first he thinks link in vai clothes and link in voe cloths are siblings. While there are a few trans men in gerudo territory, Hylian men are still largely ruled to not be allowed in the city. So he doesn’t think link would dress up and link goes along with it to keep being let it. The gerudo pay well for molduga parts after all.

-first time ganon realizes they are the same person he feels a sense of relief over not having to pick which one to approach for courting but also complete embarrassment over not realizing it sooner.

-gan also has the same lighting strike ability as urbosa and Riju.

- gan takes care of the monsters through out the gerudo desert. He’s just as adept at using weapons as link.

I may update this list later.

[random-gamer1942]

This morning I randomly remembered my first ever fanfic thingy that I made a few months ago, an sbg wild west au. It was supposed to be a one-shot, but I got some sudden inspiration, so I'm reposting it here and continuing it

Trainwreck Graveyard

(1/7) The train that was

The sun sat high in the sky, broiling the dry land below. Standing on this scorched earth was a silent figure. Twin flame-colored braids going down until her waist, just barely resting on the twin six-shooters holstered to her belt - like sticks of dynamite ready to blow after the wick's flames caught up to them. It'd be hard to tell just what she might do with those things if it wasn't for the star-shaped golden badge on her uniform

Though many others awaited the locomotive, none dared approuch her. Few ever did, and of those few, even fewer didn't end up regretting it. If her cold gaze didn't scare them away, the cold steel of a barrel between their eyebrows would. Sure, some would call it harsh, but if it scares away outlaws that's simply what must be done

Choo chooo, the approuching train broke the quiet atmosphere that usually seemed to follow her. As it came to a halt and it's doors opened, the crowd started pouring into the different cabins, with many taking the spots they had grown accustomed to

But when the woman with hair red as the morning sun found her usually mostly empty cabin, two strange faces sat there, almost waiting for her

One was a large man with dark hair, who attempted to avoid eye contact. The other however, adorned with hair light as the sands of the desert, looked straight at the figure approuching him. And when met with her cold gaze, he returned a warm smile

They're clearly travelers, she thought to herself. She decided to just sit down and hope that they wouldn't start a conversation. I mean, they surely wouldn't be foolish enough to-

"Howdy there Miss, pleased to meet ya. The name's Aiden, and this here's my cousin Benjamin. He don't speak much, but don't mind 'em. Say, what might I call you?"

He didn't seem like a bad guy per se, but that smile of his unsettled her

"Ashlyn, sheriff 'round these parts. I'd prefer if you didn't-"

"Sheriff? That could be interestin', oh I bet ya. Doncha think so, Ben?"

"..."

"Well, could be excitin', right? Wild chases, held at gunpoint. Might even get arrested!"

How casually he said these things, with that same smile on his face, were concerning. She had to get him to settle down before he did anything he'd regret

"You. I don't take kindly to strangers taking my seat, starting all sorts of chatter, 'n speaking over me. I suggest stayin' silent for the rest of the ride, if you value getting to see another mornin'."

"Ooh, curious indeed. Well, how're ya gon' make me?" He squinted his eyes and smiles just a bit more

"Well, lemme put it like this...", she drew the pistol out of her right holster, letting it spin around her finger once before placing the barrel in front of his forehead, "...whether you shut that trap of yours or not, you'll end up silent somehow."

He leaned forward slightly, his forehead now touching the suprisingly cool metal of the revolver. "Oh, will I now? In that case, please show me Miss, cuz I clearly ain't picking up what yer puttin' down."

She flinched when he moved closer. She'd seen many cowardly back off, and some stubbornly stand their ground, but get closer? Did he have a death wish or something? It didn't make any se-

BOOM

A loud explosion rang through the cart. The sheriff dropped her gun and clutched her ears, barely able to stand upright

"Oh, seems like our cue to go", the man said, with his red eyes glinting in the midday sun. "I did truly enjoy our little chat, sheriff. Hopefully I'll cya soon!"

He grabbed his cousin by the wrist and dashed to the back of the cart, which now had a giant hole in it.

The sheriff grasped for her other shooter, but by the time she was looking past the barrel, they had already jumped onto a set of horses and rode off

(2/7) Ready to go

And it was then that our sheriff realized her quiet life just might get a bit more interesting...