#that’s the plot of Homestead

[greenflower21]

DAMN I genuinely love it when Star Trek episodes are Jewish trauma AND resilience coded

[unpersoniverse]

Skén:nen sá:sewh

as promised, here's Precious boy™ getting kissed by Precious wife™ because he deserves all the love in the world :cc

translation: Get home safe

[teecupangel]

Eyy it's Titanoboa! Desmond anon and I found a new snake for Desmond

https://www.tumblr.com/warriorcatsofficialfacts/743110736781492224/hi-do-yall-mind-if-i-misuse-this-blog-entirely?source=share

Nonny, I saw the video and my first thought was this scene from Anaconda: Blood Orchid.

Just imagine redcoats trying to cross a similar body of water and they just start getting taken out one by one.

Hell, we can change it up a bit and have Desmond’s natural habitat being the bayou in New Orleans. Have Aveline be the one to first meet Desmond who is stalking the entirety of the bayou. He recognized her from Ratonhnhaké:ton’s memories so he doesn’t hurt her and even try to assist her whenever he can.

Aveline believes him to be a smart snake who just so happen to have a taste for the people that can be considered as her enemies.

She considered him an ally that she needs to be cautious about.

Desmond just likes to chill and help out whenever he sees Aveline.

The first time Ratonhnhaké:ton joins Aveline in the bayou though…

Desmond just curled around him and tried to snuggle him. Aveline was worried Desmond wanted to eat him for like… a second or so before she realized that, nah, Desmond is just, strangely, affectionate towards Ratonhnhaké:ton.

[beepbeepinthecorner]

Wanted to draw my apocalypse guys in different stages of their lives :3c started this well before july, got sidetracked on art fight, finally finished lol.

Struggled with the scale bc I started with Ben and ofc used all available canvas space, then realized I fucked up bc the other lads are much bigger ha. Sooo I had to go in and resize them back into proper scale WOOPS

[lordgrimwing]

Foundlings #01

“Hello,” Nerdanel said softly to the boy sitting on the dinner table, his torn pants rolled up past his knees so she could clean the scrapes and cuts on his legs. “I’m Nerdanel. What’s your name?”

He had a tangled mess of dark brown hair, twigs and leaves sticking out from where they’d gotten tangled. His twin—so perfectly identically there could be no mistaking it—looked no better as he clung to Maedhors, held protectively in her eldest son’s arms.

“Elros,” The one in front of her said in a tiny voice roughened from whatever he’d gone through in the forest.

“Hello, Elros,” She set a wooden bowl half-full of warm water on the table next to him, then held up one of the soft green hand towels Fëanor wove last winter. “I’m going to clean up all these cuts and put a salve on that will help you feel better.”

“Elrond’s hurt worse,” The boy protested weakly, pointing one trembling finger at the drying blood on his brother’s face from a cut on his forehead. “I’m okay.” His voice shook almost as much as his hand.

“He’ll be okay, too,” She assured, dipping the cloth in the water and dabbing away the mud and blood on his shins. 

Liquid welled up in his eyes.

“Does it hurt too much?” She asked, softening her touch still further though she was already being as gentle as she would be with a newborn lamb or goat kid.

“Where’s our mom and dad?” he asked instead, tears forming tracks in the dirt on his face. 

That, she could not answer save to spare a glance up at her son. He shook his head slightly, either not knowing or not wanting to say until the twins were safely taken care of and tucked into a bed to rest. She feared the worst. They all heard the unnatural wind howling through the trees last night.

“You don’t worry about that right now,” She settled on, scooping two fingers into a jar of pungent, brown ointment. “You’re safe now. Just let the grown-ups worry about all that.”

He flinched when she wiped the numbing salve into the largest cut just under his right knee. She murmured soothing words to him as she worked.

As she finished, Caranthir came over with two mugs of tea made from the roots and bark of several useful plants she harvested every fall. He’d sweetened the drink with honey to hide the bitter taste for children, though he’d refrained from adding goat milk as she’d directed. Milk sometimes reduces the tea’s somnolescent properties. 

“Here you go,” She said, passing the mug to the young boy’s hands. “I want you to drink all of this while I take care of your brother. Can you do that for me?”

“Okay,” He whispered, raising it to his lips and sipping the warm drink.  

Outside, the sun sank down through the trees, casting a rose gold light across the land.

Fëanor paced in front of his second son, sitting on the step just outside the kitchen door so he could go in quickly if he was needed for something. Besides the two of them and the wandering chickens, the yard was deserted, everyone else away and busy: Celegorm left two days before to hunt an elk at Nerdanel’s request; Caranthir, Amrod, and Amras went into town; and Curufin took his son to catch fish for dinner. Fëanor’s skin itched at having them all so far apart.

“Where did you find them?” Fëanor asked, rubbing a twisted wood and hair figure between the fingers of his right hand to block unnatural ears from listening to the conversation.

It would watch the homestead closely for any sign of the children his sons stole from it. The scrutiny would wane eventually, but until then they must be extra vigilant in keeping it at bay. He’d need to make sure everyone remembered to wear their amulets and keep their talismans close to hand. Celebrimbor, especially, needed to be careful; small as he was he might easily be lured away. Fëanor clutched the figure tighter.

“About an hour passed Lone Lark peak,” Maglor reported. “We found them just before dawn and rode as hard as we dared to get back here.”

The slopes near Lone Lark were steep, with ample loose slate to send any unwary traveler tumbling down the mountain. 

Fëanor looked to the north, toward that spot, though there was no way to see it from this side of their mountain. Not so close then, but close enough for it to find them if it wanted the children. 

“We didn’t find their parents,” His son continued, his slim shoulders falling. “But I’m sure they’re dead.”

“Why?” He asked sharply. He had to know everything so he could keep the family safe.

Maglor looked up from the grass blade he’d been tearing into thin strips. “Mae found what’s left of the camp. It looked like a bear or a panther attacked them: shredded tent, claw marks on trees, a lot of blood. I can’t guess how those boys escaped and got all the way to Lone Lark.”

“No, no, don’t you see?” Fëanor asked, taking his son by the shoulders, one hand half clasped around the figurine. “Have I not taught you to recognize this? This is Its doing!”

The presence lurking in the trees finally struck again. 

“Whatever spared those boys, fate or luck or some greater power, it will come looking for them.”

A terrible feeling deep in his gut told him this was only the beginning of a great and dreadful awakening. 

Maglor’s mouth fell open.

“Did you do anything to hide your path back here? Tie mugwart to the horses’ feet? Burn vervain so the ashes fell before you?” He asked. 

“No,” Maglor whispered.

“You led it straight here!” Nowhere was safe or totally free from the creature’s reach, but he’d rather it didn’t know exactly where to come looking to finish them off. If the children saw it, it would surely be here soon, seeking to devour them entirely after that small taste. If only his sons hadn’t found them, or else had the sense to ward off any attention before bringing the foundlings home. He had only one choice now.

He unsheathed the sharp knife he kept on his belt.

Maglor stood suddenly, arms out, blocking the door. “Stop, Pa.” He commanded, his gentle voice turning hard. “They’re children. What are you doing?”

Fëanor raised the black knife and pointed it at his son. “Your hair,” He snapped.

“My hair?” The younger elf repeated, teetering on confusion as he realized he may have been hasty in his assumption of ill intent.

“Yes, I need it. Maedhros’ too—and the boys’.” He reached for his son’s long black hair as he spoke. “We saved Celegorm. We’ll save them, too.”

He failed Fingolfin, so many years ago. He wouldn’t let it claim these children too, not now that he’d learned so much.

Maglor untied his hair and bowed his head to Feanor’s blade.

“Something to obscure them, first.” He continued, the pattern and weave appearing in his mind. “Bind you four together to confuse its senses. You’ll need to wear the talismans at all times until I can weave them into the family’s protections.”

He took a handful of hair and severed it near the roots, then wound it several times around his hand, catching the wooden figure under the strands to keep it pressed to his skin. 

“I’ll start tonight, with the stars at their brightest.” He could not finish until Celegorm came back and he could take fresh hair from him, too. There was no telling how long that would be, but of all his sons, his third had the keenest senses for the terrible presence haunting the mountains. He may already be riding back toward the safety of their home.

Maglor opened the kitchen door for him, and they went inside. He quickly claimed what he needed from Maedhros and the two drowsy boys sitting on the table.

[simplepotatofarmer]

what the heck is this pig doing on MY house??

[harryspet]

Do you think reader would ever fake health issues to try and get Rafe to take her to the hospital or bring a doctor in? And do you think Rafe would get her help?

Like I could imagine her faking her water breaking and telling Rafe it’s to early there must be a complication so they have to go to the hospital immediately before something really bad happens to the baby

But idk lol 🤷‍♀️

i did something like this in another fic i wrote

i think homestead!rafe would be harder to convince because he's already planned out everything. this would be smart for reader to do tho

[tinyshe]

Garden Report 22.12.17

The hens have replummed nicely. Every day that it is a bit of sun/no rain, I set them out to forage even if its just for a 20 minute span. Its too cold for them to find much to eat but at least they are getting a tiny bit of exercise. With the short days, they are literally cooped up long hours. I will leave the back door to the garden open and they will march up to the stoop and set their little feather tuffs there on the threshold ... not that its warmer inside. High fuel cost keeps us huddled in one place with very limited/no heat. It reminds me of when we lived in the yurt... ah, the good old days.

A couple of more weeks and we will get the pole trimmer out. More than the fruit trees are getting it this year. I also need to tackle the front as the wildness is making the neighboring urbanites nervous. I can’t fault them there as it is the season of strangeness (more so this year) and a bit more desperation/strong-arming. So its lifting, thinning and trimming season so everyone can see each other and hopefully feel at peace.

I want to re-plot the garden (map it) as that I am rethinking some growing spaces vs grow boxes. I have some plants that are coming past their peak so I need to propagate then consider taking out the non-productive/older plants. It is hard. They have given us food and been there for awhile. This is why, for me, its hard because I have to be a wee bit ruthless if I am going to grow food for the family. If I had the space to grow, I would just make another berry patch or plant more plums, etc somewhere else. But I Don’t. And I Can’t. So I have to convince myself that I Must. I’ve always hated this part. As a child, it was part of the farm life/livestock part I found hard. Yes, these, they are just plants.  But I have a relationship with them, talk to them, tend to them and am a tad attached to them.

The woman who I was/am making the rose tunnel for did not hold up her end for bed prep so now I have pots of ramblers and climbers that are oversized and in the way. I would like to over-winter them there but if she can’t finish prepping the beds, I can’t expect her to overwinter potted plants. And now I have to figure in a time where I can go out and do that soon so they will be ready to slip in early Spring. I am also anticipating other bedding plants to fill in the footage as we waits for the tunnel to take shape (annuals). It will be a nice area once things take hold.

So that is what is happening in the garden part of my life. Wishing you all a season of Hope and Peace that will continue to grow in the coming year. God bless!

[vhagarys]

The Slayer of Bastards

brother!aemond x sister!reader, brother!aegon x sister!reader, brief jace x reader

summary: After being denied of their birthright to claim you as theirs, you are shipped to Dragonstone to marry Jace Velaryon. Your brothers will have you, no matter the cost.

warnings: canon-typical incest, smut, possessive!dark!aemond, possessive!dark!aegon, manipulation, death, penetrative sex, oral sex, spitting, degradation, slapping, breeding, dumbification, basically aemond and aegon are depraved

MDNI

Their sister was gone.

Aegon and Aemond, your beloved brothers, were denied a betrothal to you, and awoke the next morning to the news of you being shipped over to Dragonstone to marry their nephew Jace Velaryon.

The brothers fumed. As their sister, it was within their birthright to claim you as theirs. Their mother insisted this alliance was far more important than their domestic desires.

Within the hour, the two plotted to bring you home and take your maidenhood so you’d be unfit to wed anyone else but them.

Their lust for their sister was undeniable. Since children, they’ve always harbored a possessive nature towards you. Warding off those who dared to venture too close to you, despite your obliviousness to other men’s advances.

You were so naive, so pure, your brothers knew they had to keep you for themselves.

They waited until the small hours of the night to sneak into the dragonpit, and took Vhagar and Sunfyre to the skies. The brothers were consumed with anger at the prospect that their insolent nephew may have you, that he may corrupt you with his bastard hands.

Their sweet baby sister in the hands of bastards and traitors.

No one was going to stand between you and them.

After fleeing from the Red Keep, they managed to land without being detected, cloaking their dragons within the forests surrounding Dragonstone.

Like shadows in the night, they snuck past the guards asleep at their post and through the halls of the castle.

Silently wandering through their enemies homestead, their ears tuned in at the slightest sound of your voice. Soon, they found you sat in the throne room with Jace.

“You’re lucky you know, Aunt Y/N. You just barely escaped the hands of your monstrous brothers clutches,” Jace proclaimed as he sat across the table from you.

“You will not speak of them in such tone, they may have committed wrong doings in the past but i will not sit here while you berate my closest family. They are my brothers Jace, and your uncles,” you responded with a hint of annoyance in your tone.

Jace scoffs at you, his face unable to hide the offense at your words.

“Do you deny who they are? They are criminals to the throne. They killed my brother and have committed atrocities the gods may never forgive. For you to sit here and defend them shows you are no better then them.”

Your body simmered in rage, fingers digging into your palms in attempt to restrain yourself. Just as you were about to retort Jace’s vile accusations, a voice at the door made you freeze.

“Tsk, thats no way to speak to your betrothed little nephew,” murmured Aemond with a darkness in his eye. Forgoing his eyepatch, the sapphire in his other eye gleamed in the moonlight.

“No go one nephew, please continue this tangent of your love for your uncles,” Aegon quipped with a smirk on his lips.

You swiftly turned towards your brothers, who both locked eyes with you. Time seemed to stop as both of them looked upon you with a longing and something darker you had not yet seen before.

“Gōntan ao miss īlva dōna haedar?” Aegon smiled at you. (did you miss us sweet sister?)

You couldn’t help but feel relief at the sight of your brothers here, the betrothal to Jace made without your consent.

You always knew how much your brothers loved you. They would always hold your hand and accompany you through the castle, let you sit on their lap and hold you when you were needed comfort.

Anything you required, your brothers were there at the drop of a hat.

You wished you didn’t have to leave them and be married off to another family. The idea of being away from your brothers made you sick with unease. After all, they promised they would always protect you.

Jace fumed at the sight of your brothers. He practically jumped out of his chair to stand in front of you, as if to shield you from them.

“How in the seven hells did you manage to get in here undetected? You really have such little regards for your own lives? Tell me why i shouldn’t draw my sword and slit your throats where you stand.”

Aemond hummed, “I’m afraid dear nephew, that would make you a kinslayer as much as i, you wouldn’t want that on your conscience hm? I, on the other hand, have already dirtied my hands. What’s a little more bastard blood spilled? I may even enjoy killing you even more than your baby brother,” Aemond grinned darkly.

Aegon chuckled under his breath. You turned to Jace and saw nothing but black in his eyes. As he went to lunge towards your brothers, you grabbed both of his shoulders.

“Stop this! Please, stop tormenting each other. Why must every encounter end in threats and physicality,” you cried out, using all your strength to hold him back, to which he shrugged off and paced toward your older brother.

Aemond stepped behind you and tucked a piece of your silver hair behind your ear. “No need for tears dōna haedar (sweet sister), we won’t let him hurt you. You’re coming home with Aegon and i where you will be rightfully married to us, your own blood.”

Jace laughed as he slowly stepped towards Aegon. “Like hell you will, she is betrothed to me. She’s mine, and i’d do right by her and rid the world of her abominable excuses of brothers.”

Jace proceeded to jab his finger into Aegon’s shoulder, a provocation that you knew would end badly.

“I dare you,” he roughly grabbed the collar of Jace’s tunic, “to utter one more word bastard. I will delight in feeding you to my dragon, a poetic end to your pathetic life, wouldn’t you say? Seeing as your brother became a snack for Vhagar,” he seethed, his anger palpable.

You couldn’t believe the situation unfolding before you. Your heart filled with dread at the inevitability of this encounter. You felt helpless. Chasing any sort of comfort, you leaned into the warmth of your older brother Aemond as he gently wrapped an arm around your hip.

You turned into his body and wept on his shoulder, begging him to put an end to this and take you back home. You knew if you didn’t leave now something awful were to occur.

“Kostilus gūrogon issa lenton lēkia,” you stared up at him with glossy eyes. (please just take me home brother)

‘Hush little one, you’re coming back home with me, i won’t allow anyone to keep you from me. Al sytilībagon naejot īlva, hm? You know we will never allow harm to come to you,” Aemond whispers as his hands held you tight against him. (you belong to us)

Seeing his sister with tears running down her cheeks awoke something primal in Aemond. His mind flashed to the tears he imagined you’d be spilling as he used your throat to pleasure his cock. He pictured you on your knees, laid bare for him, covered in drool as you let him fuck your mouth full of his release. He could almost hear you whine as you leaked your own arousal with his seed on your tongue, opening your mouth for him to spit in and brainlessly swallowing anything he gave to you. like a good girl. their good girl.

Aemond knew this was an inappropriate time to indulge such thoughts, and tried to resist the urge to press his cock against you as you cried on his shoulder.

Jace shoved Aegon off of him with a loud grunt and immediately lunges towards him in an attempt to tackle him to the floor. You couldn’t bear the fighting a moment longer.

You broke away from Aemond and rushed toward the two, grabbing Jace’s arm with your hands.

“Please Jace, we are family and i do not wish to see anyone hurt. I don’t believe any good may come of their matrimony and you know it too. It is best if i return home and seek forgiveness with your mother and Daemon on the morrow. We will leave quietly, please-”

The sting on your cheek throbbed as you stumbled to the ground. Your hand immediately reached up to touch the ugly red splotch on your face. Your body stunned as you looked up to see the disgusted look on Jace’s face.

“They’ve already fucked you, haven’t they? Corrupted you with their seed, stolen your virtue? I can’t stand to look at you. Just wait until the realm hears of you, the Targaryen cocksleeve-”

The sound of metal sliced through the air as Aemond plunged his sword through the middle of Jace’s form.

You went to scream, but Aegon grabbed you and covered your mouth with his hand.

“Shh, shh sweet sister. It’s alright, he won’t hurt you ever again. Your brothers are here, everything is alright,” he delighted in seeing Jace writhing in pain, something he’d hoped would happen for quite some time. What delighted him more though, was the feeling of you pressed up against him.

He’d finished himself countless times to the thought of you completely at his mercy. Holding you down while he pummeled into your soaking cunt. His hands wrapped like a noose around your neck, licking up your tears and swallowing down your screams. Fucking you so violently you’re rendered speechless. Just his pliant, little cocksleeve for him to ravage when he craved release. He knew you would eventually succumb to them, always looking to please her brothers.

“Brother, what are you doing? Why is there something hard poking me?” you breathed out confused, your mind feeling like mush after the overwhelming scene before you.

Unlike his brother, Aegon never possessed much self restraint. He pressed you tighter against his front, rutting his hard cock on you from behind.

“That, my sweet sister, is me showing you how happy i am to have you back. Now tell me, are you happy to see me?” Aegon whispered into your neck as you felt an odd tingling surge through you.

“O-of course i’m happy to see you lekia (brother), but i-“

“I’ll have to see for myself, don’t fight me, relax little one,” Aegon moved your hands away and worked past the layers of your skirts, gently pressing his finger on your clothed cunt.

“Gods, you’re very happy to see your brothers, isn’t that right gevie,” (beautiful) murmured Aegon as he ran his nose up your neck and traced lines up and down your center.

“Tsk, what do we have here,” Aemond removed his sword from Jace’s dying body and slowly stalked over to you, his eyes fixed on his brothers fingers on your cunt.

“Brother, it seems our innocent little sister is more depraved then we thought. Her cunt is weeping after watching you kill our nephew,” Aegon began rubbing small circles on your pearl.

The new heady sensation made your mind short circuit. You let out the most pathetic mewl, and bucked up your hips to chase Aegon’s fingers.

Aemond’s eyes darkened as he watched his sister succumb to the pleasure his brother was giving her.

“i don’t believe this, what happened to my sweet baby sister?” Aemond teased.

“Look how responsive she is, brother. Practically begging us to touch her,” Aegon mused as he continued to tease your cunt.

“Poor thing is leaking all over the floor. Let us see just how wet you are,” Aemond unsheathed his knife and cut through your small clothes, leaving your pink cunt soaking and bare for them.

You whined louder, “P-please stop, it’s too much. I don’t-”

“We can take the pain away baby sister, how does that sound? Need your brothers to help you don’t you, poor girl. What would you do without us?” aegon ripped through the bodice of your dress until your breasts spilled out.

Aemond groaned and reached out to fondle your breasts.

“Gods you were made perfect for us. Can’t wait to fuck you full of my seed”.

In a moment of clarity, the words sunk in and you jolted up, away from your brothers touch.

Your mind began to sober at the depravity you were partaking in, and your hands flew up to cover yourself.

“But we’re brother and sister, this i-is wrong. We mustn’t do this.”

The brothers exchanged a smirk. “Sister, this is exactly what siblings are meant to do, to keep the bloodline pure. You are ours to breed so that you may produce targaryen heirs sweet thing,” Aemond caressed your cheek while Aegon continued his ministrations sucking dark spots into the crevice of your neck.

Aemond took your silence as an invitation to kneel closer to your dripping cunt. He gently blew on it and watched as you clenched around nothing.

You flinched and tried to pull away to no avail.

“You see sister, no one else knows how to pleasure you like we do,” Aegon pulled your hands away and began to grope at your breasts.

You couldn’t help but arch your back as he pinched at your nipples. Your mind began to cloud over again with the intoxicating sensation coursing through your veins.

Aegon groaned into your ear, “You were made to fit our cocks and to take our seed. you were made for us to have, in any way we desire, right brother?”

Unable to hold back from tasting you, Aemond offered a hum before leaning down and licking a fat stripe up your dripping folds, slurping up your essence like a man starved.

Your body twitched and spasmed at the all consuming pleasure. You gasped, chasing the electric feeling your brothers tongue offered you.

“I’ve got you, little girl,” Aegon turned your head toward him and swallowed your cries in a forceful kiss, dominating your mouth with his tongue.

After only a few minutes, you were on the brink of release. Your virgin cunt not familiar with such intense pleasure from someone’s mouth.

Suddenly, Aemond retracted his mouth from you, cursing under his breath and scooping up some of the wetness still leaking from you.

You watched as he reached over you and pushed his fingers into your older brothers mouth. A moan came from aegon as he sucked all of your juices off.

“Fuck” Aegon drawled, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

You couldn’t help but whine in frustration, your brothers leaving you throbbing with need but effectively ignoring you.

They both looked down at you drunken with lust.

“Use your words, sweet girl. what do you want, hm? what’s wrong?” Aegon chuckled at his brothers teasing.

“You really are cruel brother, our sister clearly won’t be satisfied until she’s felt our cocks stretch out that tight cunny,” Aegon began removing his trousers.

Aemond gripped your cheeks with his hand. He examined you, the way your tongue slightly stuck out, your eyes glazed over as you met his gaze.

“Not a single thought in that pretty head of yours is there. Already too drunk on the idea of cock you can’t speak?” Aemond grinned cruelly at you.

You whined his name. he squeezed your cheeks so you lips parted just in time for him to spit into your mouth.

“Show me,” you stuck your tongue out to show the glob of spit. Aemond nodded then commanded, “Swallow it.”

Aegon began to run his cock up and down your folds, hissing at how sensitive he was.

“Did you enjoy that sister?” Aegon slowly circled your entrance with his head, aroused at the scene before him.

You shyly nodded, too embarrassed to meet either of their gazes.

Aemond sighed, “Of course she enjoyed it, you love making your brothers happy right byka līve?” after which Aegon grabbed your face and spit into your mouth. (little whore)

You were overwhelmed by the need to feel your brothers, to please them. “P-put it in please”, you whispered to your older brother.

They both looked at you with a sick fondness, their lovely sister reduced to nothing more then a begging, cock slut.

“Asking so nicely, how can i refuse you gevie,” Aegon slowly pushed in.

The feeling was intense. the stretch of his cock in your virgin hole hurt so much. You could do nothing but cry and wreathe at the painful sensation.

Oh, how pathetic you looked when you cried. Aegon wished to make you cry whilst he spilled his seed into you.

After a moments pause, he pulled out and sheathed himself back inside, setting a brutal pace for your poor little cunt.

“Ah! slow down, lēkia, it’s too m-” (brother)

The rest of your sentence was muffled as Aemond took the opportunity of your mouth wide open to stuff his cock down your throat.

You gagged at the intrusion, and clawed at your brothers thighs to push him off. He grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked so you met his gaze. The soft look he gave you contrasted the way he was choking you with his member.

“Such a filthy little girl aren’t you? letting your brothers have their way with you after committing treason,” Aemond moaned. His other hand slithered down to your neck and began to squeeze, just hard enough you began to gasp for air.

Soon, you lost your strength and could no longer try to push him off of you.

Aemond smiled at you, “That’s it, just a little more dove. Don’t fight it, that’s a good girl,” the lack of oxygen made your eyes roll back into your head.

He soon loosened his grip on you, stroking your cheek lovingingly before bringing his hand down to strike at your cheek. The same one Jace laid his hands on earlier.

You gagged helplessly as he fucked your throat without mercy.

Aegon had never been so turned on his life, his hips sporadically thrusting into you. He knew no whore in the seven kingdoms could please him after tonight.

“No one else will ever lay a finger on you ābrazȳrys, only me and Aemond (wife). Fuck, I think she likes getting slapped brother,” he hissed and dug his fingers into your hips, sure to leave bruises come morning.

“Would you like me to spill my seed down your throat baby sister,” Aemond watched in delight as you gurgled incoherently around him.

He reached down and pinched your nostrils together, effectively blocking off your airways.

“I asked you a question līve, answer me,” (whore) he taunted and you did your best to nod your head while grabbing at his hand which finally allowed you to breathe again. He knew he was close to his peak, ramming his cock in and out of your warm, wet mouth.

Your brothers both moaned in bliss, minds overcome with the pleasure of finally corrupting their sister. They did not hear your cries and pleas, they were utterly consumed with you.

You could nothing but take it. Soon, your mind went blank as your brother prodded at your g-spot over and over.

You could feel your release approaching right as Aegon began thrusting faster, but n cock begin to swell.

“Fuck, you’re gonna take my seed aren’t you sister, gonna breed you as many times as it takes. fuck you’re mine, fucking take it,” he groaned as he let go and filled your womb.

“Can’t wait to take you back home, were going to have such fun together aren’t we”, he stayed inside you and pushed his release back inside your with his spent cock.

The sight of his older brother spilling inside of you sent Aemond over the edge. After Aegon pulled out, Aemond took his cock out of your mouth and sheathed himself inside you.

“This seed is going to take, and you’ll soon be round with our child, would you like that? You’re squeezing the life out of me. Tatagon rūsīr issa,” he grunted in your ear. (finish with me)

Your release hit you like a lightning bolt. You cried out at the aftershocks of your peak. you reached down to cradle your belly that swelled with the amount of seed inside you.

Your body soon collapsed with exhaustion, blacking out for a moment before coming to again.

Both of your brothers knelt on either side of you and tenderly kissed your forehead.

“You did so well for us gevie,” Aegon murmured as he caressed your cheek.

“Made us feel so good.” Aemond watched your cunt clench around nothing, already missing the cock that was inside.

He would claim her cunt when they returned home.

A soft “mm” was all you could manage.

As you sat and composed yourself, you looked over to see Jace’s body still lying there.

Before you could dwell on the tragedy before your eyes, you were scooped up by Aegon who muttered, “Time to go home ābrazȳrys”. (wife)

authors note: tada! hope you all enjoyed my first fic! please leave me feedback as i’m new to this :)

- alice <3

[fanaticsnail]

Better than to break tradition

Masterlist here

Word count: 3,700+

Beautiful Doflamingo cowboy art by @skullfacedlady. Absolutely gorgeous, as usual.

Synopsis: Rival ranches, the Donquixote family and your own, find neutral ground after a successful rodeo tournament. Coming to your aid, at the crowning of a cap on your head, you and Doflamingo know far better than to break tradition.

Themes: Doflamingo x f!reader, gendered terms used, cowboy au, bronc rider Doflamingo, rodeo clown Rosinante mentioned, regular sized Doflamingo in a semi-modern au, smut, 18+, MDNI, NSFW, P in V sex, unprotected, semi-public, creampie, plot, feelings, enemies to lovers.

Notes: Fic dedicated to @skullfacedlady, @queenmimi2817, and @feral-artistry for their ideas and thoughts about this cowboy on his horse. I am terrified of horses, but I did my research to get things as right as I could. Please forgive for any inaccuracies, I had a lot of fun writing this and this au is eating at me. First Rosinante drabbles, now this.

Sitting beside your father and his allied cattlemen, the amount of murmuring was so foggy your mind could barely pick up on any meaningful sentence uttered between them. Especially when your gaze was too focussed on avoiding the rubied lenses of the bronc rider readying his mount in the wood and iron cage atop a wild bronc.

Donquixote Doflamingo, ‘the Joker' of the arena, would always seek you out in the crowd when he entertained. All he ever did was show you how much he could reign in and control the beast beneath him with a firm grip and a mischievous grin. No matter how truly untamable the beast would be, bucking wildly to shake him off, they would find all their thrashing was met with absolute control and composure from the blonde man in the saddle.

The blonde-haired man would sit atop him, pelvis to the sky, chin tucked into his chest, and holding on for dear life while taming that beast for the money and reputation it garnered him. He was a rodeo king, and that air of cockiness would follow him everywhere.

While he often received praise falling from his entourage’s lips, all he ever wanted was that soft call of your own. Yet, there you sat, upturning your chin to face away from him while ignoring comments about him from your father’s troup.

The rivalry between you ran deep. Truth be told, neither of you truly knew where the little spat started. It could've been initiated when Doflamingo approached you with that cocky swagger in a bar, likely unknowing who you were and who your father was, offering to buy you a drink in return for a dance and your time while only being met with rejection. It also could've been when your father purchased a large quantity of cattle from the auction house that Doflamingo wanted to keep for himself at his family's ranch.

It could've been the snarky comment from his lips referring to you as a ‘buckle bunny', only good for chasing cowboys and taking cock. That comment resulted in an all out brawl between your family’s ranch workers, and the Donquixote troop. You held your own quite well, impressing a few of the crew with your battle-ready mentality, but it did lose you the place in line to be crowned ‘rodeo queen' - another slight against you made by the hands of Donquixote Doflamingo.

Either way, you refused to give the blonde the time of day. He was a bronc rider, and you were your father’s daughter.

Being from rival homesteads would keep you apart regardless. Your father would never permit you to speak to the likes of him, especially while your arm was laced within his in the stands sat beside his allies. Not after the amount of comments thrown his way about the blonde’s tendencies to take lovers and leave them immediately thereafter. Your father was protective, defensive, and ready to go to war for you - just as you would for him in a heartbeat.

If that war was due to the flashy smile of Donquixote Doflamingo thrown at you, he'd jump down into the stands and wage it there and then. It didn't help that the amount of comments from his allies suggesting a match be made between you and Doflamingo to solidify a new alliance was thrown in the ring more often than not.

At the sound of a gun aimed at the sky, the gates opened for another show flawlessly executed by ‘The Joker' in the ring. The dark horse bucked, kicked, spun in hasty circles while Doflamingo demonstrated his skill by holding on with a single hand while the other aimed at the sky clasping his white stitched, pink cat. Many a person would've been thrown extremely quickly from a stallion such as this, but Doflamingo’s skill and flare was simply too much for the beast.

The longer the display progressed, the more cheers, jeers, and gasps were heard from the ring surrounding the arena. You rolled your eyes, squeezing your arm laced within your father’s while you pouted to depict your level of impression.

At the sound of a loud gasp and your father tensing up to straighten his posture, you immediately turned your attention to the ring. Doflamingo was cast from the horse, and the beast was rearing to charge him where he stood. With quickened haste, Doflamingo’s entourage snapped immediately into action: his coach pulling him aside, and his younger brother, the rodeo clown commonly referred to as 'the heart of Doflamingo’ caused a large, clumsy, flailing distraction to usher the beast over towards him rather than his brother.

With 'the heart' jumping and distracting the horse’s charge, Doflamingo scurried out of the arena and climbed up on the side.

“He’s going to jump back on, isn’t he?” shocked voices called from the side. You unlaced your arm from your father, staring into the arena and rising to your feet. As Rosinante sprinted faster and faster while being chased by the stallion, Doflamingo made contact with his eyes on yours. He smirked up at you, shooting you a wink and placed his pink hat back atop his head while waiting for his brother to pass him.

As soon as Rosinante made it to the stand with the bronc behind him, Doflamingo immediately jumped back onto the horse with a large uproar from the stadium. You rolled your eyes at him, sitting back down beside your father, but now continuing to watch him with little interest cloaked behind your usual stoic demeanor.

“Are you sweet on him now, darlin’?” your father spoke from beside you, prompting you to immediately snap your head over towards him and shoot him an accusatory glare.

“Are you joking, Dad?” you spit in disgust, glancing back down to the display of Doflamingo now sitting atop a tamed beast and urging the beast to trot along the perimeter of the stand, “I would rather chew sand than start courting with him.” As the bronc was calmed and steady under his hands and straddled beneath his hips. You couldn’t help the wandering of your mind at the motion of his hips against the great horse, but you refused to allow the blush to creep higher the longer your eyes lingered on the motions.

After the rodeo event was concluded and Doflamingo was successful in another show, several members of the district ranches approached you for a drink or a dance in the hall. While your father was off elsewhere discussing cattle and stallion purchase, you were a hot commodity. You enjoyed some attention from time to time, but this moment alone with a string of unwanted suitors was grossly hard to manage. None of them seemed to take ‘no’ for an answer, all competing for a moment of your time and vying for an opening to dive between your legs in a bid to grant them an audience with your father.

“This seat taken, sweetheart?” a particularly handsy gentleman asked. His talon-like grip trailed over your shoulders, grazing your skin and causing a physical shudder to rise on pebbled gooseflesh on your skin. You attempted to cast off the suitor, who began groping you and prodding you in a bid to get a rise from your temper or a giggle, you felt a soft warmth drape itself silently over your head.

No words were spoken as you witnessed the man begin to grumble and groan the silent protection placed upon your head. As you gazed upwards at the color, your own eyes rolled at the unwritten rule of the rodeo. Looking up at the white and pale pink hat with a stitched white brim, you scoffed and rode your thumb and four fingers to the tip of the broad suede. You would never dream of removing it, mainly to keep unwanted attention at ease, but also for the fact that the person who placed it on your head was a person you had begrudgingly come to admire this night from afar.

You would never dream of offending the knight found in the rescue of Donquixote Doflamingo. Not immediately after such a successful endeavour with the bronc, anyway.

“So many suitors, sweetheart,” he gently whispered in a gruff purr into your ear, taking a seat beside you at the bar and shooing the already dissipating crowd, “You forced my hand, really.” Turning towards the man beside you, you rolled your eyes before narrowing them towards the taller man beside you.

“Oh, and how did I force your hand?” you scoffed, turning in your barstool towards the tall blonde at your side, “Unless this is you staking your claim on a prize, rider, I see no reason for your cap crowning my head.” Doflamingo leaned forward, his eyes half-lidded beneath his pink showman's glasses. The flicker of danger was momentarily flashing in the bat of his blonde lashes, stealing the breath from your chest as he leaned in further.

“You do make such a pretty prize,” he growled lowly, his lips almost reaching your own in a sultry brush, “And now all I'm picturing is a part of this forsaken building to claim you in properly.” Before you had time to react, his arm was around your waist and hooking beneath your knees.

“You're joking, right?” You scoff at him with a humorless laugh, drawing your hand up to place it on the top of the suede brim, “One: you hate me and I hate you,” you speak firmly, beginning to lift the object from your head, “And, two: you and I both know that this is just superstitious-.”

“-You’ll keep my hat on your head if you know what's good for you, princess,” Doflamingo uttered firmly, peering at you over the brim of his glasses, “You and I know far better than to break tradition. Way I see it, you've got three choices as to what happens next.” He reached up and firmly pressed the hat back down atop your head, securing it in place while gazing dangerously into your eyes.

“We can sneak off to the bathroom where anyone can walk in to hear you screaming my name,” he chuckled, moving his hands from the hat to fall atop your shoulders, “We can fuck right here in front of your daddy and all his business partners in the next room,” Doflamingo whispered against your skin, with his lips almost close enough to taste, “Or we can go to the stables near the bronco you watched me tame earlier, showing the poor stallion how you train your cowboy to behave. Your choice, princess. Either way you choose, you're gonna be riding me somewhere tonight.”

In any other circumstances, you would have fought more against this chain of events. Firstly: your father should've taken you with him in the back rooms to conduct meetings with his allies and business partners, not leave you unattended with the unruly cowboys. Secondly: the sway and buck of Doflamingo’s hips on that horse had your mind wandering somewhere in the gutters each time he gazed at you while on the ride. Thirdly: who were you to break with tradition at a time like this?

Taking one quick swig to drain your drink, you turned your palm up and clapped him on the cheek with a single word falling from your lips.

“Stables.”

“Atta girl,” he shuddered in delight, lacing your arm within his and escorting you away from the bar like the perfect gentleman. He enjoyed gazing at those eyeing him off in envy, truly knowing how great the prize he had claimed truly was. Doflamingo had a lot of casual hook ups at events like this, but this was the first time he had ever claimed a partner with his hat on their head.

As his eyes met with that pink brim, he felt his heart anxiously patter in his chest, relishing on what he was to expect from the encounter to come. Sure, he had a small hang up on your history together, but there was never any hatred from him on his part. He loved to tease, and knowing he could get a rise and see some fire from a respected cattleman’s daughter brought him some joy in his daily life.

Slowly drawing you down the steps towards the stables was an easy task. The air grew thick and tense as your own expectations rose within you at what was to come. Your mind wandered back to the sway and rock of his hips above the bucking bronco, arousal pooling at the complete control as his hips gyrated and moved with every harsh kick.

At the doors to the stables, the Donquixote gentleman opened the door for you and gestured for you to go before him. You rolled your eyes and stepped inside the doors and allowed your gaze to adjust to the darkness lurking within. The scent of horse and hay lingered on in the stables, the barn empty aside from the horses resting after the matches in the arena.

The taller gentleman strolled in behind you, latching the door closed and turning to gaze at each of the empty stalls. As he parted his lips to ask you for your choice of room, he found your lips immediately clashing against his own in a fit of passion. His breath caught in surprise, immediately reciprocating the aggression you placed upon him with every kiss. Tongues and teeth bruised and consumed one another’s kiss as all clothes aside from Doflamingo’s hat upon your head shed your persons.

Pushing him into an empty stalls by using your body alone was an easy feat, considering his eagerness to relinquish control to you. He had no chance to utter a word as you laid him on his back and crawled through the hay to straddle his hips. Already feeling the slick arousal pool through your walls and gather at your entrance, you braced one hand on his stomach and another girt his girth to align with your cunt.

“Woah-? What-? Wait-!” died on his lips as you took him inside you with a single thrust downwards. Sitting comfortably while your walls contracted and adjusted to his size, you clamped your eyes shut while your belly expanded to comfortably sheath him within you.

“A little hasty, aren't you?” he groaned, his hands moving to your hips to hold you steady. “That bent on getting this over with, rider?” You opened your eyes and narrowed them down at him at the taunt of the earlier name you called him.

“Oh, please,” you leaned down with sarcasm dripping from your voice, still holding his cock deep within your core, “Don't act like you're not waiting for this little superstition to be complete so you can go partner up with someone else-.”

“-Don't,” he uttered sharply, moving his hand to caress your cheek and draw you in closer. He moved his unoccupied hand up to remove his glasses to gaze into your eyes without the pink filter. Ruby eyes met yours, sensitive to the light and shrouded beneath blonde eyelashes. “Don't you dare. You don't know how long I've wanted to see you riding me, cowgirl.”

“Cowgirl, now?” Your voice depicted your feigned shock as you tested a soft roll of your hips while your faces were inches apart. “What ever happened to ‘rider’, ‘princess’, or ‘buckle bunny’, huh? And what do you mean by that, Joker?” Doflamingo laughed, thrusting up to test your hold over his crotch, allowing another moan rose as he lost himself to the feeling.

“I don't mean half the shit I say,” he whispered alongside the echo of your name to follow, “And what I do say is to get a reaction from you, princess. Now take your damn time, I'm enjoying this.” He rocked you on his lap, enjoying the way he could easily maneuver your motions over his cock while your face was so close to his own.

You bore down on his lap, enjoying the feeling of his cock inside your cunt and warming it with your body. He hitched his breath as you tensed around him with a flutter of your walls. He allowed his mind to go blank as he revealed in the heat of your pussy claiming his raw cock inside of you.

“A-And, I mean from the first time I saw you, I wanted you,” he confessed, tilting his head up and gazing at you through half-hooded lashes. “Prissy attitude, hard working girl, easy to agitate and tease, and so fucking gorgeous. Now show me how you ride, cowgirl.”

Under the cover of darkness, the scent of hay surrounding your bare bodies, you sat comfortably to the hilt on Doflamingo’s cock. Straddling his hips, you demonstrated the skill of riding by grinding your cunt over his steely shaft. Rolling your hips to his rough bucking had your twin peaks steadily rising, the man beneath you not shying away from being verbal with his pleasure. As he groaned out, you simply panted as you bucked against his pelvis, hips clapping noisily with every, rough, down thrust.

Doflamingo refuted your silence, using everything in his power to expel explicit and pornographic moans from your lips. His hands flew to every piece of your flesh he could find purchase on. Playing with your clit, pinching your breasts, grabbing fistfuls of your ass to impale you on his cock, Doflamingo grew frustrated at your stubbornness to not cry out for him.

“C'mon, cowgirl. Wanna hear you cry for me,” he whimpered, bucking up each time you ground yourself down. “Don’t make me flip you- oh fuck,” he threw his head back as he felt your walls suck him in with every thrust down, “Just like that, baby. Good girl. J-Just need you to-,” he moved his thumb towards your pearl at the top of your pussy and focussed on slowly pressing it with coaxing pressure as you rode him once more. You let out a soft gasp at first, sucking in your breath through your teeth, before a needy mewl spilt from your lips that Doflamingo rewarded with harder contact to the top of your clit.

The Donquixote cowboy enjoyed every sound he coaxed from you from that point. Hearing your voice only heightened his desire to watch your body bounce atop him like the rider you had always been. Doflamingo was the wild stallion you controlled, his moans fleeing his lips like mewling and braying of the beasts he rode.

“That's it. Ride my cock all loud like that,” he encouraged, bucking wildly up into you. Planting his feet in the hay, the wet squelching of hips clapping together upped in frequency and rapidity, “Fuck, you're more wild than anything I've tamed. Fucking use me, girl.” Your abdomen tightened, the pinnacle of your rapid climax approaching like a rapid cantor to the finish line. With one extremely needy whine, Doflamingo moved his hands to grope your ass, planting you against him while he lost himself further in the feeling.

“F-Fuck-! I'm c-cumming. Y-You better be cumming with me, baby, ah-...” he whined up into you, feeling you match his pace and ride him through it to harmonize with your own body meeting your high, “Atta girl. Keep going. K-Keep taking me. Fuck yes, take it.”

Your hands groped at his shoulders, anchoring your body to his as you felt the floodgates shatter of your high. White flashed behind your vision as you screamed out his name, pleasure blooming in your chest with the ignition of lightning in your eyes. You released his left shoulder beneath your hand to hold his hat atop your head: ensuring it was planted firmly on your head while you cried out for his name.

Pussy gushing over his shaft in rhythmic contractions, you milked his cock of his own messy release as he painted your walls further in the viscous splashback of his cum. Pearlescent spurts fled from his body into yours at the roar of your name, branding your souls together as he flooded you with his seed. Both heaving and panting, you slumped onto his chest and shrouded both of your faces beneath the broad brim of his hat. He chuckled up into you, gently slapping your ass while kissing your cheek. His smile continued to hold as he gazed possessively up into you.

“You rode this cowboy well, sweetheart,” he praised you, bobbing his head up to flick at his cap on your head, “And you're gonna do it again, aren't you? You're still wearing my hat, means you're mine… right?” Slowly rising to gaze down at him, you notice the uncertainty behind his eyes. He wanted you to want it, yearned for you to want him again in any capacity. He needed you to need him again. Who were you to be to refuse him?

“It's still on my head, isn't it?” you quirk back at him, gently leaning down and brushing your nose with his, “Means I'm yours until I take it off.” He chuckled as he scrunched up his nose playfully at you.

“I'm gonna glue that fuckin' thing to your hair, princess,” he chuckled in jest, flicking the cap crowning you, “You take me so well, I don't know how I could ever want anything else.” His hand moved to cup your cheek, moving to press the tip of his nose against yours in a soft brush innocently of his flesh against yours.

The sounds of braying, snorting and whinnying beside you caused the two of you to resolve into a fit of giggles, laughing like the youth in the arena up to mischief in an empty stand. He rolled you gently off him, ensuring the hat remained on your head while making the hay comfortable to hold you atop of. He began whispering sweet nothings, grazing your skin in featherlight kisses where you left a gap open in conversation. Doflamingo was obsessed with you from the first time he saw you, and now that he had his hat crowning your head, that cowboy would never let you go

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory @ane5e

[goodmorgan]

Perfect Strangers

Chapter 8: A Reward to Forfeit

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!Reader

Series Summary: When a stranger appears at your homestead to steal from you, you set out to help him instead. What follows is a reckless relationship with potentially dangerous outcomes.

Previous Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7)

Chapter Summary: Arthur returns after your learned an unexpected truth.

Word Count: 3.6K

Tags: 18+. MDNI. NSFW. Smut, Porn With Plot, Mutual Pining, Angst, Infidelity, Oral Sex (m! and f! receiving), 69, Caring and Protective Arthur Morgan, Mentions of Domestic Violence and Death

Taglist: @how-the-heck-would-i-know @pinkiec6-rubi @spiritcatcherxo @slumberr67 @nervousmumbling @themoonalienhere2000 @cwbylikeyou @mieriella @chxxrliie @lunawolfclaw @tinaaaa5747 (i can't seem to tag everyone, i'm so sorry)

AO3 Link

The moon is incandescent tonight. Blazing like you've never seen it, not even in the plains of New Hanover. It's warm and inviting and leaves no place in the dark. You put out the only lamp in your room to witness its magnificent beauty, its powerful shadow coming through the swaying curtains.

The breeze is inviting and the night is refreshing, a salve after the hot day that just passed. As you stand by the window, you remove your housecoat and let it fall to the floor, the coolness hitting your warm skin. The feeling is magical, addictive, and you immediately remove your nightgown, a chill running through your most delicate parts. For a moment you bathe, fully naked, on what the moon and the breeze offer you, the perfect respite after such a heavy day. You focus on the physical sensations that envelop you if only to forget the emotional ones.

After some time, you feel the ache in your legs from the movements of the day. You sit on the edge of the bed closest to the window, close enough to still feel the draft. The moonlight still shines on your skin. All you have to do now is wait. The house is finally quiet. Your lover will be here soon.

And so will the outlaw.

It didn't take you by surprise to learn of his dealings with the law. Mysterious and effusive, always scuttling away from your house and from your bed to head to same place not too distant, but never clear enough of where it is. Doubts kept lingering on your mind about his abrupt comings and goings, his dirty bloody clothes, his bruised calloused hands, his smell of gunpowder and danger. But those doubts were never enough to overpower your senses, drunk on kisses and touches you had never conceived, blinded by lust and exhilaration only he could give. The cunning outlaw, desperately clinging to you for release and passion, headed east to escape from the law, only to find himself ensnared by you.

But how can someone so passionate and caring be so dangerous? How can someone so elusive be the refuge you’ve been hiding in?

The wanted poster would seem like the ultimate betrayal to anyone else. A secret so vile no relationship could survive, not even a secretive one. Your heart should be screaming to evade the scoundrel. But no man could deliver his soul to a stranger, to you, and be ruthlessly devious. Of that you were sure of.

Your plan for now was to wait for his arrival. In the nude, as promised. Bare, as you've been to each other since you've met. Besides, who are you to contest a hidden secret? Just a few hours ago, you kissed your husband with his spend still in your mouth.

You’ve made sure the door is locked this time and you've placed the key on the vanity, making sure no one manages to enter. As you put it down, you realized you might just be locking yourself in a room with one of the most dangerous criminals in the country. Full lunacy under a full moon.

You barely hear him until his hands reach your window, climbing gracefully despite the strain. His boots are dirty and dust disperses when he lands on his feet. He’s physique takes up a large part of the window, towered only by the draped curtains. His face is barely lit as he faces you, replacing the moon’s glow with his own. He smiles fully as he sees your naked body, a man thankful to get what he asked for.

And then you realize he’s not the dangerous outlaw on the poster. He’s your Arthur. Nothing more.

“You sure know how to make a fella feel welcomed, missy." He kneels by you, his face becoming clear in the moonlight, his smile widening as he meets yours. "Prettiest thing I've seen in Saint Denis."

You stare at each other for a few seconds, wondering which one is about to start your usual greeting of a fervent long kiss. But Arthur surprises you, and instead, he places a soft kiss on your cheek, his lips warm on your cooled skin. His eyes are as kind as you remember them, and his demeanor is as soft as his embrace. Whoever drew the wanted poster didn't love him like you do.

But you can't take it anymore. "Arthur, would you ever…" His brow flexes in patience. "… hurt me?"

Arthur's pause is short. "Now why in the hell you asking that, sweetheart?" You must look serious enough that he continues. "Darling, that's the last thing I would do in this world." His hands rest on your hips perfectly, urging you to believe him. "Why are you asking such a thing?"

"There's bad men out there, Arthur." You brush the fabric on his shoulder, afraid of opening a door you can't close. "I've… seen things."

"What did you see, darling?"

"There was a woman on the street today. She got robbed right in broad daylight." You hesitate for a moment before you're brave enough to say it. "They said the man was a fugitive. An outlaw."

Arthur's breath is heavy but you're unsure if it's the word that bothers him. "I'm sorry you had to see that, sweetheart. That must have been scary." His thumbs brush the side of your leg in comfort.

"Yeah. Well, they caught him. Thank heavens."

"That's good." He kisses your temple and lingers before the question pops into his mind. "Why are you asking if I would hurt you, darling?"

"Well." You don't want to tell him you saw his face at the police station under any circumstance. "I know men can…" You try not to stumble too much. "Hurt women… a lot worse." Arthur's eyes are wide as he stares at you. "Some who-"

"Has someone hurt you?" he almost whispers.

"No," you interject, dispelling the thought from his mind. It never really happened with you, although you've heard plenty of horror stories from the women in your life. It was never physical, anyway. Your husband always managed to harm you with his words and deeds, never with his hands. Sometimes you wonder if it would hurt less that way. "I just… Seeing that man. I got scared, I guess."

As you look into his eyes, in the clutch of his hands, you're no longer scared that Arthur's really the beast they hung on the wall at the station. Instead, you're scared that they'll hang Arthur on the gallows, you're feet on the ground as they lower him and your only proof of love into damnation.

The idea is so hurtful, you feel tears forming in your eyes, your heart shrinking in its place. You bury your face in his shoulder, quick enough so he won't see the sorrow on your face. He catches your body in his arms, quick to steady you on him, his feet adjusting to hold the full weight of your naked body.

"It's ok, sweetheart, I've got you." You feel one of his hands patting the back of your head, and he holds you like he always does, as if in possession of life's preciousness, something of his own. "No need to be scared now." You try hard to contain the sobs in your chest, but it's too late as they're pushed against his own. "It's ok, missy." He holds you tighter as if trying to swaddle your worries away. "It's ok, darling."

You don't cry for too long but it's enough to dampen the shirt underneath you. You feel warm as he envelops you in his touch. You somehow rest fully on one of his knees as he holds you up from the floor, scared of dropping you. His breath is steady as he waits patiently for your distress to subside. A new kiss on your temple is enough to lift your head from his clutch, and the light of his eyes returns to illuminate the darkness in you, as gentle as ever.

No outlaw looking at you, no. Just a love that will outlast.

Arthur keeps holding you tight and before you know it he places you down on the bed, the softness of the bed linen cool against your skin, your head heavy against the pillows, finally serene, as you watch him undress his shirt, his boots, his belt, his trousers. He joins you on the bed, his hands reaching for yours so he places small kisses on them. He makes sure you're calm and attentive before he even says a word.

"Wanna know why I came to see you? All the way out here?" He tightens his fingers around yours, your arms bending as he inches closer. "You're the only one who's ever taken care of me like you have." A peck on the cheek softly before he exhales, his face in full view. "Sweetheart, I'd protect you if it's the last thing I do in this world. Cause you're the first one I've met that makes me feel like I might belong in it."

You're frozen in place as he bears himself to you, his face as serious as you've seen it. You're dumbstruck by his words, suddenly floating as he sits next to you, his strong arm rubbing your shoulder, his hands still holding yours. You let your head fall on his chest, curling yourself around his nakedness, begging him to hold you like only he can. Before you know it, you're in his arms again, your ear pressing against his heartbeat and his echoes of paradise.

"I'll always be here for you, darling. You're safe with me."

You're not sure how long you both stare at each other before your eyes close. The world seizes to exist, the notion of lawlessness expires. Only the heavens prevail and the comfort of his arms. His breath a virtuous lullaby.

As soon as you open your eyes, you know it was a nightmare that awoke you. You can't remember what it was about, but it was unpleasant enough to make you want to end it. You're surprised you haven't jolted awake, and you can tell it's because Arthur is still holding you, barely moved since you caved into sleep. He's in a heavy stupor, or he would've noticed your small head tilt as you look toward the window.

The great big moon is gone and an orange hue is closing in on the sky, far enough that you know you don't need to send Arthur away. Not just yet. You turn to see his face instead, his eyelashes long over his cheeks, his tan browning the skin beneath them. His breath lands on your face faintly, you can feel it rustle some of your hair. His lips are plump and primed just to taste. You hope he forgives you as yours land on them, finding it impossible not to indulge. You've seen him wake many times now, but every time is just as dazzling as the man who stares back at you.

"You ok, darling?" His words are groggy as his eyes, blinking to better look at you. He tightens his hold of you as he shifts in position, barely disturbed by the fact he spent hours holding a grown woman in his arms. "You feel better, missy?"

You nod your head as you find it necessary to continue to kiss him, trying to get him back to the land of the living. Once he's more awake, he starts to kiss back, and soon enough his tongue leads into ecstasy that makes you completely alive too. As alive and safe as you've ever been.

Arthur is not an educated man, of that you know. He's been puzzled by some of the books beside your bed, or with a topic of conversation that is a little more erudite. You don't mind it at all, as you feel he in no way lacks more important qualities, like emotional maturity and life experience. He often knows how you feel before you even do so yourself. But his candor has always been genuine and abundant, never being able to conceal his true intent. You know every word he said to you last night was truthful and sincere, not taken from a flimsy novel or a yesterday's paper. You know his words were heartfelt and spoken with legitimacy. Arthur is a man of his word, even if not of the law.

You're safe in his arms, of that you are sure of, and as you kiss him back deeper and deeper, you know your loyalty lies with him, even more so than before. Your hands hold steady on his shoulder blades as he places you gently on the bed again, his tongue distracting enough that you barely feel it. The brush of the tip of his cock against your thigh suggests maybe he's keen on dragging this on, much like you are.

Arthur continues his way downwards, first down your neck, then to your breasts, taking a moment to savor each one, his tongue hot on each nipple. He leaves a trail down your stomach before he starts fondling the hairs on your mount, his hands reaching for the side of your thighs to hold you in place as he readjusts. The way he clenches you means his impatient. He looks over at you before he can dive into you, just as the daylight dives into the night outside your window.

Many mornings have come and gone where he has lavished you like this, your eyes barely opened before he delights you awake. His acts are those of a man thankful to have a woman he can ravish like this, thankful to have a woman who will undoubtedly return the favor when she's allowed. But that's not why he does it. He does it because, above all else, he enjoys it. It thrills him that he can do it, thankful he gets to do something for another person besides beating them or robbing them. You're his escape from this world, and by his own words, you're the only one that keeps him anchored to it: *"You're the first one I've met that makes me feel like I might belong in it." *

All thoughts vanish when his tongue joins his lips on your bud, the sensation making you so elated that you close your eyes at once. His work is thorough and dominant, now that he knows you're well awake. He charges quite forcefully, hungry to see you squirm under his grip, your legs struggling under his hands. You take a deep breath before you open your eyes and you see him, kneeling as he lavishes your sex, his muscular back beginning to sweat. Underneath his torso, you catch a glimpse of his cock, half hard from either his slumber or his appetite. You reach for it with your hand, determined to get his attention.

Arthur stops his ministrations to look back at you, your hand slowly working his length. His chin is shiny from your slick and his spit. "You sure?"

"Please," you beg.

Arthur knows what you want and acquiesces. He's gentleman enough to readjust himself on the bed, his tip now closer so you can taste him fully. You both tilt to the side, facing each other, your head landing on his thigh before his own lands on yours. He's still looking at you as your tongue reaches his tip, moaning as you satisfy your urge to lick his drip, not averting his eyes until after you close your lips around it.

His arousal often leads him to surrender to his urges and he becomes impatient to get you to wriggle under his touch again. His tongue lavishes your bud with swift but effective strokes, getting quicker with each pass. His free hand joins his efforts and you feel a finger at your entrance, inching closer to the spot on your wall he knows how to find so well. Soon enough another finger joins in, and you feel edging closer to the end. His mouth is relentless on you, but you try hard to keep your mouth busy, as full as you can, his hardness at peak as you work his base with your hand. You feel yourself drooling with pleasure and it becomes hard to determine which of the muffled moans are yours and which are his. You're starting to take him deeper when Arthur speeds up the pace even more.

You try to keep him in your mouth as much as possible, even when it becomes impossible to move him in and out. When you're close, you take him out with a noisy pop that's stifled by a loud moan from you, your hand clutching to his back to anchor your descent. Arthur's stamina doesn't wane and in just a few seconds he brings you to the place of wild and livid bliss, his tongue still licking as your hips rock back and forth as you ride the heavens once again. You tighten your fingers around his muscles, your fingernails digging deeper into him, unaware you're leaving a deep mark. Once your whimpering is steadier and lower, he removes his fingers from inside you to rub your ass, kneading on the flesh to help you quell your movements.

Arthur really knows how to make you dizzy, exhausted. A mastermind at making you succumb to pleasure. It takes you some time before you can open your eyes again, only to find yourself looking at the carved ceiling of your bedroom. It could use some painting. You turn your face to see Arthur watching you, slumped down on one elbow, his hand working his cock, trying to finish off what you started. His pace is hurried. It won't take him long. He moves to sit more comfortably and closer to you, his tip towering from your viewpoint. He decides to take his free hand over to your face, brushing off a few strands of wet hair covering it. He takes one good look at you unveiled before his breath hitches, his eyes close and his hand moves erratically, his tip then erupting into a hot white streak, which then covers his hand, his stomach. Dark spots form on your fancy bed sheets.

You move toward him before his breath steadies and he opens his eyes to watch you lick his spend off the back of his hand, his fingers, his tip still dripping. He places his hands around your arms as you lower down to lick what landed on his mound, his stomach, his chest. He makes sure to keep watching the deliberate movements of the tip of your tongue, which makes him want to burst all over again. Your tongue doesn't stop until it reaches his neck, his sweat is sweet after the bitterness of his spend. You try to drink most of him before he pushes your chin upwards, kissing you as passionately as he does when either one of you finishes, as if you haven't had enough of a reward yet. You both catch a trace of yourself on each other, exchanging the perfect symphony.

Arthur likes to kiss, and luckily he's great at it. So much so that this is almost as thrilling as what came before. As he continues, his back comes to rest against the headboard, welcoming you onto his lap, your legs a perfect fit with his.

It's only when his eyes start to sparkle with the sunlight of a new day that you notice that it's best to stop, making sure he can still leave before anyone catches him. It's even more urgent now that no one should catch him, now that you know he's a wanted man with a price on his head, a reward you damn well want to forfeit.

The outlaw subsides the work of his tongue when you pull your head back, your fingers brushing the flex of his arms to tell him to stop. "It's best you should go."

He turns slightly to catch the sky out of the window. "I guess it is."

Despite that, you both continue to kiss, more hurriedly but just as deeply. Your hips rock slightly forward against him, the need in your lower abdomen blooming again. Arthur's barely recovered but it's clear he wishes for more too.

You take a deep breath as you wrap your arms around him, a soft moan escaping your throat when you can't get any closer to him. It's here, on his lap, where you belong. The comfort of his body beneath yours is the safest place on earth somehow, and somehow, you yearn for more. More of him, more of this. More of the outlaw grinding beneath your thighs, growing stiffer by the minute his tongue spends inside your mouth. It's here, in his lap, where you want to be, bound by lust and evasion of the law. After all, being an adulterer is a crime too. You best enjoy this before either one of you is caught.

None of you show signs of stopping, although dragging this on is anything but wise. The risks of you or Arthur getting caught increase with every brush of your lips. But it occurs to you, that you don't just want him not to go. No. You want him to take you with him.

To take you back to your cottage in New Hanover, where your affair blossomed, where Arthur used to have you just like this, sometimes harder, sometimes softer. Where perhaps you can resume where you left off, where it's less likely that someone can catch you. Either the law or the spouse.

The wanted man halts his movements as you break from his embrace to deliver your most unlawful plea yet.

"Take me back, Arthur. Take me back with you."

---

A/N: I am so sorry for taking so long for an update. Unfortunately life got in the way. But please know I intend to finish this fic, whenever that may be.

[teecupangel]

Desmond owning a bakery on the Davenport Homestead!! Why not complete the trilogy?

Making various kinds of bread for the Mile's End to be served as sides for meals, using leftover goods make other kinds of meals and to feed Prudence's & Warren's animals, and the people of the homestead often visiting the bakery when taking breaks from their jobs.

I imagine Connor meeting Desmond for the first time on the Frontier when the latter was looking for better herbs to use in the bread he makes. Connor felt something familiar in him, prob thought "y not", and offered Desmond a chance to have a bakery at the homestead.

Even if Connor mayhaps isn't a big fan of sweets, someone else on the homestead certainly is (Godfrey's & Terry's kids have sweet teeth(?) for sure).

Here’s the 3rd Crusade Baker version with Desmond using the power of looking a lot like Altaïr but with big bright smiles to unnerve and confuse the Al-Sayf brothers and the power of sweets to stop Altaïr from asking questions.

Here’s the Renaissance Italy Baker version where Ezio and Leonardo mistake Desmond as Giovanni’s illegitimate child and Desmond mistakes Leonardo’s ‘hints’ as Leonardo starting to figure out that he’s a time traveler with bonus oblivious Maria who just think Ezio and Leonardo really likes the bread and keeps asking Ezio to buy more.

Let’s combine both of your asks!

.

Desmond actually learns to bake in England. There’s a sweet old couple who needed help with their bakery and Desmond sorta got adopted by them. That’s where he learned the basics of how to bake.

He stayed with the sweet couple until they die peacefully of old age.

They lived a long life and Desmond doesn’t regret staying with them for this long.

Then their son who never even bothered to visit them took over the bakery and kicked Desmond out because he felt threatened by Desmond.

Desmond had half the mind to stab the asshole but he refrained from doing acts of violence because (1) he made a promise to himself that this life, he was going to try and be a pacifist (emphasis on try) and (2) he knows the sweet couple would be sad if Desmond stabs the asshole… in the leg… maybe twist it a bit… no, Desmond. Bad, Desmond.

So… knowing he was going to do something he had promised not to do if he stayed in England, he made his way for the first ship leaving the port, requesting to be taken in as kitchen help or something (even gave the captain his last batch of bread to sweeten the pot).

…

Okay.

So…

Here’s the thing.

Desmond had been deliberately ignoring whatever news he hears and the year. Because he knew if he knew the year, he’d be tempted to do something because he was around the time that Ratonhnhaké:ton would be born so…

He’s trying to be selfish here, okay?

He knows it’s not really the best way to go about it and he knows that he can, in theory, change history and all that grand stuff.

But Desmond doesn’t want to do that. He already saved the world. This is his retirement.

Why is this important?

Because Desmond would like to stress that it was a bloody coincidence that he boarded the same ship Haytham boarded to go to the colonies.

And now Haytham was observing him because he knows that Desmond was not part of the original crew which means he was suspicious.

So Desmond stays away from Haytham and keep his head down and… hope for the best, essentially.

…

Desmond would like to stress that he did not give Haytham food poisoning!

He was in charge of cutting ingredients, for god’s sake! He was nowhere near the pot OR Haytham’s fucking plate.

Also… is Haytham sure it’s not just seasickness?

… probably not but Desmond is innocent!

Oh, what he would do to wring the neck of the actual Assassin who failed in assassinating Haytham. If he was going to poison the man, at least double the dosage anyway to be sure!

Again.

Desmond is a pacifist… but dear god that kitchen knife was certainly looking quite sexy at the moment.

.

Ah.

Land.

And most important.

Goodbye, Haytham!

Desmond should skedaddle and…

What’s that?

Oh.

Someone needs help? Well… Desmond wasn’t heartless. He’d help.

Oh, wait.

Oh, fuck.

It was Benjamin Franklin.

Why yes, Desmond was looking for work.

What’s that?

Oh, he can cook but he makes a mean bread.

…

Oh.

Uuuhh… it seemed Desmond just got hired by Benjamin Franklin to be part of his kitchen staff???

.

Desmond has no idea who the two Assassins were.

He has no idea why the two of them decided to visit Franklin this early in the morning.

What he does know is that Franklin turns into a whiny baby if he smells Desmond’s bread and can’t eat it so he’s serving them all fresh bread and tea just so Franklin doesn’t complain to him later on.

… was that the light of a POE?

Nope.

Desmond must be seeing things.

.

Jesus Christ.

He doesn’t know why Franklin had been kidnapped and why he has to be kidnapped as well. He can, of course, just beat the crap out of all of them but…

Well…

That would destroy his ‘pacifist life’, right?

He did tell Franklin that he quit as soon as they got kidnapped though because this man was a magnet for trouble and the pay wasn’t worth all these.

Relax.

Desmond knew Franklin would live a long life.

He just doesn’t want to be part of it.

Oh, look, it was the Assassin from before.

Huh.

He looked different.

Doesn’t matter to Desmond.

Goodbye, Franklin. Thank you for the letter of recommendation!

.

Good news! He got his own bakery!

The rent was cheap and the neighborhood was alright.

Things were looking good.

.

Bad news! The landlord apparently died and the new landlord is a dick.

The rent has gone up.

Desmond’s bakery was still doing good so he can take the hit.

He’d just have to postpone any experiments he has planned to make pastries and bread he remembered from his time but don’t exactly remember the ingredients for now.

.

Well, fuck.

His bakery has apparently gotten the attention of Washington.

Why?

He has no idea.

But if he was going to make a guess. Some of Franklin’s servants would regularly buy bread from him so that old man must have been talking to some people.

But seriously.

Why the hell was Washington even buying bread himself?

Doesn’t he have servants to do that for him?

It… does not bode well for the future of Desmond’s bakery.

.

As he had expected…

So asshole landlord was loyal to the British Crown and, since it appeared that George Washington was now a fucking regular (what is this life, seriously???), that must mean Desmond was one of them.

Oh, for fuck’s sake!

And now he’s getting evicted without even getting his goddamn stuff?

Oh, to hell with that.

“What are you doing?”

Desmond turned to stare at Ratonhnhaké:ton who was suddenly standing just behind him, watching him dangle with one leg on the other side of the window of his no-longer-his bakery.

“Uuuhh… I’m not robbing the place?”

Ratonhnhaké:ton just stared at him.

“My asshole landlord kicked me out without letting me pack my things and chained the doors so I can’t get in.”

“I see… Would you like me to retrieve the key then?”

Tempting.

Desmond was pretty sure if he just adds a bit of waterworks, he can ask Ratonhnhaké:ton to beat the crap out of that asshole for him.

Again, Desmond was trying to be a pacifist this time around.

So violence doesn’t count if he’s not the one throwing hands.

“Nah. He’d just come back and get some goons to kick me out again…”

Desmond paused for a moment before he asked…

“If you have the time… mind helping me pack my entire life into small sad boxes?”

“I will find a big box we can use.”

“Thank you-” Desmond stopped himself before he could say Ratonhnhaké:ton’s name. He smiled as he asked, “What’s your name? If you’re helping me do some B&E, we should atleast know each other’s name. My name’s Desmond.”

“Connor.” Ratonhnhaké:ton replied.

“Okay, Connor.” Desmond said, although it felt a bit awkward not calling him by his real name, “Thanks.”

.

Desmond’s entire life fitted a small wagon that can easily be carried by a donkey.

Was that sad?

Or was this a sign that he was a minimalist?

To be fair, most of his belongings were stuff he used for baking.

Desmond sighed, “Guess I have to look for a new place to set up shop now.”

Maybe he’d cash in on Washington’s weird favoritism and rent a place with a landlord who hates the monarchy.

“I might know a place.” Ratonhnhaké:ton said as he stared at Desmond, “If you have no other place to go… perhaps…”

Was he…

Oh, he was asking Desmond to go to the homestead.

Well…

To be fair…

The homestead would definitely be peaceful.

Profit would probably not be as good as how it was here in the city though.

Then again…

It was never about the profit anyway.

Desmond turned to grin at Ratonhnhaké:ton as he said, “I’d love to.”

.

Peace.

This was what Desmond wanted.

Waking up early, making freshly baked bread for the people of the homestead.

Spending a few minutes with each one just to talk about how yesterday went.

Checking the surrounding areas for things he could use as ingredients for his experiments.

Making sure his garden was thriving and waiting for the fruits and vegetables that he’d use on his experiments.

Giving sweetbreads and puddings to his little visitors who always bring him berries and other ingredients they find or their parents give them in exchange for the snack.

Ah.

This was the life.

(I tried to make this sound like Desmond’s ranting without turning it to 1st POV. I hope it was okay XD)

[onyourowndaisymae]

obey me dateables (+ luke) playing minecraft with you

this came to me last night like a prophecy from the god of silly geese

prompt: you've somehow convinced these guys to play minecraft, a human world game, one night, just the two of you. but how exactly does that experience go?

[brothers version]

{established relationship, obey me x reader (minus luke, who is platonic ofc)}

Diavolo

oh you-- oh you thought the future king of the devildom was going to be a fearsome warrior slashing down hordes of monsters coming to attack the two of you? or a masterful builder constructing a wonderous homestead for you two to retreat to at night?

nah, this man is a certified flower picker.

diavolo basically uses this as an excuse to play domestic family simulator with you. he's at his happiest when he's picking flowers and planting them around your shared house (you've got to share a house with this man or he'll give you the most pitiful expression) or decorating to any other extent, like carpets or paintings or lights. he just loves making your little home together!

he's also just as willing to do anything you request of him. you need him to mine for cobblestone? he's your guy! need someone to fish for you? right away, mc! you have to show him exactly how to complete said task, but once you do, he's happy to help.

definitely puts your beds together and gives you a dumb, happy grin. the characters are as close as the two of you now! speaking of which, do you have any plans? will you spend the night at the castle? he can push back his morning meeting tomorrow if you promise you'll stay.

he's just so happy to spend time with you. your shared little cottage and virtual world are just another artifact of your relationship. maybe some day the two of you can have a domestic setup like this in real life, too.

Barbatos

this man is good at everything he does. obviously, he's going to pick up the controls and mechanics surprisingly fast. you'd think he'd made the game himself with the ease he gets around.

your shared house is beautiful. he actually originally made two separate houses, one for each of you. but when you looked confused and told him you assumed you'd live together, he immediately gets to work on a bigger, prettier house for you to share. the only thing that gives him away is that pleased little twitch of the corner of his mouth as he resists a smile.

with as good as he is at the game, barbatos isn't super keen on what is actually "good" and what is just normal game stuff. he finds diamonds within 15 minutes of his first trip into a cave and, when you applaud his efforts, he turns to you and very plainly asks "is that... good?"

everything he finds goes in a communal chest at your shared home. you tell him he doesn't have to do that, but he insists-- it's in his nature. he doesn't tell you that every little comment you make when you spot new, valuable resources in the chest makes his chest warm. always happy to serve, this one.

monster killing machine. nothing will hurt you in this game. they can't even get close enough-- barbatos is always there, at your tail, protecting you from stray arrows or sneaky creepers trying to get you.

Simeon

oh, you're taking on the challenge of trying to teach him how to play a video game? good luck. kiss your sanity goodbye now.

he is terrible with the controls. simeon fares a little better with a controller because it's made for gaming only. god help you both if you're on a computer. wasd? never heard of her.

despite his piss poor technology skills, he's surprisingly pleased with the way this is all going. he feels a little bad that you have to babysit him in-game but appreciates your attention nonetheless. any mistake is met with a sweet laugh-- what a good sport.

he finds your patience endearing, and vows internally to get better at this game so that you'll want to play it more often. he's already plotting to rope solomon and luke into helping him improve.

and just like any good softie, he's terrible at in-game combat. he dies so many times. he doesn't really understand what's happening when he starts getting attacked. most of the time, the creature will hit him from behind, so he literally thinks he's dying for no reason. you have to explain to him that he's gotta-- simeon just turn around, you're-- dead. he's dead already.

his strengths in lie much more simple pursuits. give this man a farm to tend and he'll be perfectly content being a cute little malewife house husband. he secretly gathers the ingredients for a cake and surprises you with one after you return home from collecting wood to expand your house. he's beaming next to you in real life; who wouldn't kiss all over that cute face of his?

Solomon

speaking of old ass men-- this man is a menace in your minecraft world.

he gets the controls pretty quickly. pros: you don't have to spend much time teaching him how to play. cons: he is confident enough in his survival abilities to just... disappear. what's that mc? you wanted to build a house together? too late. he's fighting against three endermen deep in a mine an entire biome away.

you're going to have to do a lot of the communal work yourself. build the house, gather resources, find a reliable source of food and materials-- solomon will stroll right in and steal them from your chest. if he's feeling generous, he'll leave behind the rare resources he got his hands on during his journeys. which is nice, of course, but he still stole three whole stacks of wood planks like a jackass and took off before you noticed.

you end up making it to the nether together. he says he'll protect you, and for the most part that is true. however, sometimes he's preoccupied and you get attacked while he's not looking. if you die, he'll laugh at you (yet still save your stuff and give it back when you return). if you survive, then it's onwards into the depths of hell!

when he gets bored, he starts terrorizing you. this is as basic as moving things around the house to as obnoxious as blocking you in with dirt or wood and covering you up as you try to escape. he thinks this is hilarious, by the way. but he knows you, and his antics cease before you actually get pissed off.

Luke

luke tries very, very hard to be good at this game. he gets a A for effort... and a C- for skill.

somehow, someway, he falls into every. hole. imaginable. you'd almost think they're spawning in front of him with how frequently this happens. you're playing rescue now... and again... and again... and he did it once again. he also gets lost very easily, so it's best to keep him with you at all times.

you guys decide to share a little house together and it's very cute. you've got your own separate rooms, then a kitchen and living room to share. he is very insistent that it has to look like a real house, with a real kitchen and everything. humor him and help him out-- he'll reward you by always making sure you have food.

every activity in this game is now a group activity. safety in numbers, he says, in the middle of the day with no monsters in sight. it doesn't really matter anyways. he'll follow you wherever you go. he'll even enter that super scary cave you're in so he doesn't have to face the monsters alone.

luke is very scared of being attacked by any mob in the game. he's specifically built his room on the second floor of your house so they can't get him. if he is somehow face to face with a monster, then he's yelling, incoherent as all hell, panic-building a dirt protection chamber around himself (he won't actually kill them because he feels too bad). if you're within reach, then he'll cover you too. if not, good luck with that monster! he will root for you, obviously, but you're delusional if you think he's going out there to help you.

[scatterbrainedbot]

Hey, hey, @tmntbestsibscompetiton here! We don’t currently have a description or picture for your entry into the competition yet! You don’t have to send one in, but if you’d like to, just answer this, or tag us so we can make sure it’s ready for when the competition begins! Thank you so much for joining, and good luck. 

@tmntbestsibscompetiton

falls down stairs IM HERE IM HERE SORRY IM SO LATE

RAT SONS AU

in which Master Splinter is a wise and silly old tortoise, and father of four skittering, chaotic, ninja rat children. <3

(inspired by that one background moment of the 03 series! 🐢🐀🐀🐀🐀)

there will be lots of similar plot points as the 03 series (like 'tales of leo' and 'good genes' etc etc) but there are also a lot of fundamental changes in the foundation of things too — like the guardians and ninja tribunal and the hamato family line etc etc. content wise tbh its probably mostly just gonna be snapshots of random moments throughout the boys lives, but i do kinda have some plot concepts? so we'll see 👀

(embarrassingly long) introduction under the cut if u'd like to read!

——————————————

Years ago, Oroku Saki defeated Hamato Tang Shen in battle, and finally brought an end to the family that would deny him his power. He ordered her homestead be razed to the ground, and all mystic artifacts to be delivered to him. Particularly, the Hamato’s prized pet tortoise, which was rumored to be itself a conduit for the family’s legendary mystic abilities. With the creature in his possession, along with the new rapid-enhancement chemical he commissioned from laboratory familiar with mystic properties in New York — at last, he would be granted his godhood, and guarantee the legacy of his fathers clan. The Hamatos could deny him no longer. He had won.

Or he would have, had the fools at the lab not ruined everything, the precious mutagen spilling all over the tortoises crate and the fool handlers who carried it. The contaminated men morphed into horrific, animalistic monsters, attacking the scientists and wrecking the laboratory itself. And, most crucially, in the ensuing madness, the crate which contained the tortoise, his last possible connection to the Hamato’s power, lay shattered, and empty…

Meanwhile, Hamato “Splinter” Yoshi, who until this point had quite enjoyed his extended existence as a simple tortoise and family pet, found himself fleeing the eyes and hands of the man who killed his human family, and the lab that granted him this new shift in consciousness, to instead face the terrifying chaos of the streets and alleys of NYC. His transformation into something more bipedal had hurt considerably and left him aching and disoriented, but still he could not pause. He could not falter. Not until he found somewhere safe to hide himself and the four squirming, impossibly small rat-pups in his arms. He hoped the chemical that washed over them had not warped and hurt their young bones as it had his own. He hoped he could find somewhere safe to care for them. He hoped they could survive the night without their mother. He hoped, he prayed he could protect these precious, squeaking, peach-fuzzed ruminants of his family. He did not think he could survive any more loss.

For now, he would do what he could, and slip into the shadows of this city. Having lived so long among ninjas had its benefits there, at least.

[velleire]

Homestead Essentials: Living in Janthir Wilds (link)

Text:

Greetings, Tyrians! Gather around the fire and settle in as we chat with Andrew Gray and Joel Eckert, two of the designers working to bring you one of the newest features in Guild Wars 2®: Janthir Wilds™. Today, they’ll conjure a magical doorway and take us on a tour of Homesteads.

With the launch just a few weeks away, we’re excited to answer some essential questions that will help you on your journey to turn a plot of land into a home. In the next few weeks, be sure to check out our social media channels for inspiring homestead designs, and join us soon for a livestream where we’ll explore Homesteads even further. For now, we’ll be covering some of the general Homesteads information that you’ll need to know.

Q: How do I get my homestead?

A: The story of Guild Wars 2: Janthir Wilds will introduce you to the plot of land that you will tend to and claim as your homestead.

Q: How do I access my homestead?

A: Once your homestead is unlocked, you’ll have access to a Summon Conjured Doorway Mastery skill. Any character on your account can conjure a doorway and simply step through into the homestead.

Q: Can friends visit my homestead?

A: Yes, you can invite your party members to your homestead via your conjured doorway. Players who are not in a party can use the door to request a party invitation from the door owner, and the owner interacting with the door will initiate the instance-transfer countdown. You can even give your visitors permission to help decorate your homestead!

Q: Can I return to my original location (the place I entered from) when I exit my homestead?

A: Yes, you’ll find a familiar instance exit button on the lower right of your screen that will return you to your previous location. This will even persist across sessions, so if you log out and log back in to your homestead to take advantage of the homestead’s resting bonus, upon logging back in, the instance exit button will return you to your last open-world location. This will not persist if you visit another instance, though.

Q: What can I unlock for my homestead?

A: As you progress your Homesteading Mastery, you’ll unlock more rooms within your homestead to decorate. You can also unlock improvements to your lumber mill, mine, and farm facilities. Because upgrades and spawns for your personal story home instance carry over to the homestead, you can also collect various gathering nodes, convenience features, and characters like the hungry cats.

And, finally, you can unlock decorations through the handiworker discipline, which is a refined, account-wide crafting ability.

Q: Can we control where unlocked nodes spawn?

A: Things like resource nodes, cats, and chests are placed in predetermined areas to ensure they all function properly.

Q: Where do homestead decorations come from?

A: Handiworker is the new crafting discipline that will be used to create decorations. New decorations are unlocked via Mastery points spent in the Homesteading Mastery line.

Q: Tell me more about handiwork, the new personal version of guild scribing.

A: Handiwork functions very similarly to scribing, but it is designed and balanced for a single player to be able to craft things on their own. There is a material cost for each copy of a decoration that you craft, but the prices for personal decorations via handiworker crafting are significantly lower.

Q: Why is handiworker crafting part of a Mastery line and not leveled like other crafting disciplines?

A: Since your homestead is account bound, we also wanted your handiworker crafting discipline to be account bound. We also wanted to create a stronger synergy between the content of Guild Wars 2: Janthir Wilds and your homestead, so, rather than reaching higher levels of the crafting discipline by crafting more decorations inside your homestead, you’ll instead do so by playing the rest of the Guild Wars 2: Janthir Wilds content and earning regular experience points.

Q: How do I decorate my homestead?

A: A “Decorate” button on the heads-up display or the skill panel will activate decorating mode.

In this mode, players have access to various skills on the skill bar for placing new decorations, modifying already placed decorations, or removing decorations. Additionally, you can enter a flying mode that allows placement of items anywhere a player normally cannot reach.

We’ll be demonstrating homestead decoration live on Twitch this Friday, August 2, at noon PDT (UTC-7). Join us to catch the placement tools—which include a Toggle X-Ray Vision skill and flying mode—in action.

Q: How do the characters on my account interact with the homestead?

A: When you exit to the character selection screen while inside your homestead, the character you were playing will be visible in your homestead as an NPC while you play other characters. These NPC versions of your characters default to one of three predetermined locations in the homestead, based on whether they are soldiers who wear heavy armor, adventurers who wear medium armor, or scholars who wear light armor.

Soldiers are found around the main homestead structure and the entry area near the portal.

Adventurers are found on the far side of the river near the main homestead building, in a wilder area.

Scholars are found in and around a secluded cave away from the main homestead, which is perfect for concentrating.

If you approach any of these logged-out alternate characters, you can ask them to follow you and lead them elsewhere. When you’re ready for them to stay put again, you can ask them to stay, and they’ll stop following.

Q: Will all of the characters I leave in the homestead when I log out show up? Can I control which ones show up or disable them?

A: All characters left within the homestead when you log out will be visible when you’re playing other characters.

Q: Can we control the appearance and dyes of mounts in the stable? How are those chosen?

A: Mounts housed within the mount stable will have the same skin and dye settings used by the player character that is currently accessing the homestead. The skiff’s dye and skin are controlled by the same means.

Q: Will there be a livestream to show off Homesteads?

There will be a livestream! As we mentioned above, we’ll be showing off the design elements and finer details of the Homesteads feature on our Twitch channel, on August 2 at noon Pacific Time (UTC-7). We hope to see you there!

Prepurchasing any edition of Guild Wars 2: Janthir Wilds before the expansion launches will grant you the “Homesteader” title, the Whispering Serpents Pauldrons skin, and a box with your choice of one Serpent’s Wrath weapon skin.

Visit the official store page for full details on the items included in the Standard, Deluxe, and Ultimate editions.

[r0b0s-robos]

DCA HARPY AU

FLIGHTLESS

PLOT |

• Reader was once a harpy, bonded for life to Sun and Moon. Reader dies unexpectedly by a dragon and gets reborn as a human (100-ish years later) in a village quite a distance away.

• Reader grows up to be the village trader. They go out on behalf of the village to trade goods and bring new things like magical items to the small village. They also love to draw and while drawing they see a harpy nest that *looks* abandoned and starts to draw it because harpies are relatively rare to encounter.

• They know that it's said that harpies are the most vicious mythical creature that live near the village. Unlike a dragon, who will give its prey a quick and painless death, harpies often eat their prey while it's still alive, warm, and conscious.

About Sun & Moon:

• Sun has been grieving your loss since the day you first died. He always looks sad and has unkempt feathers. Despite his appearance, he honestly is fairing much better than Moon.

• Moon is inconsolable. He spends most days in the nest surrounded by what was once your feathers. While Sun often finds energy to hunt, Moon only eats when pestered enough.

• Sun and Moon find out that Reader died by a dragon. A storm kept Reader from returning to the nest and instead found safety from the storm in a cave. The dragon that lived there was incredibly hungry and territorial.

• Sun and Moon do what any grieving harpy would. They slay the dragon viciously, digging into it as it still breathes. The rage and heartache feels as though it will be everlasting and this is the only immediate cure. (When ur a human you find their nest is still adorned with bones of a large beast).

• Moon would be based off a screech owl and harpy eagle, Sun either a crowned eagle or a mix of golden eagle and harpy eagle

• Upon meeting, Sun especially is very clingy. he believes full-heartedly that you are the one that they lost. Moon does as well, but you are so, so very fragile now. You are so delicate. (To them, at least. To you and ur village ur pretty much a badass lmao). But he can't allow himself to be close only to lose you again. His resolve doesn't last long.

About Reader:

• Reader is well-respected in their village by all except a few handfuls of older members who dislike the magical forest where Reader lives. (The village itself was attacked by harpies 100 years prior. May or may not have smth to do w/ Sun and Moon).

• Reader’s home is kind of like a homestead. But since its in the magical forest they had to make it a treehouse to avoid ground predators during the night. It’s very nice and everything is mostly made by them. They possess some magic, but they only really use it for cooking or protection.

• I imagine that when they meet Sun and Moon (and after the relationship has developed a bit. At least past them, fearing that they’ll be harmed). That they allow Sun and Moon to build some nest in the rafters of their house.

Scenes:

• Sun feeling particularly guilty because he looked so unkempt for your reunion. He apologizes the best way he knows how. But you don't speak the same language. And all you know is that he's upset that he's dirty. So you take him to a waterfall and clean his feathers. Your fingers running along his back as you dislodge sticks and leaves. He helps where he can, but mostly he sinks into the water and just pleads for this to not be a dream.

• Moon would have a similar situation with the reader. Tho his involves his attempts at gifting them things. Food at first. Then anything that shines or sparkles. He creates necklaces of jewels that rival those found on the rich upper-class of the inner kingdom. Reader appreciate the gifts, but cannot wear the jewelry because it would cause others to ask questions or attempt to rob them when they travel. Moon and Sun initially believe it is because you find none of their gifts good enough to adorn upon yourself. Moon grieves all over again. You comfort him, and give him a gift of your own. A ribbon, endowed with protection to wear around his ankle. (You give this to Sun, as well ofc).

Funny thought to end my rambling on:

• Imagine Reader trying to sleep but they keep hearing knocking and skittering on their roof and when they look outside the window they just see a pair of giant red owl eyes. At first they would be scared. But after two weeks they start ignoring the knocking and tapping around their house so they can just (attempt) to get a good night's rest w/o the inescapable “bird cuddle pile” and since the harpies feathers are insulated, poor reader always feels a little cooked at night.