#hood exporter
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Sims2Tools - All Apps Updated
As mentioned previously, all apps have now been updated
HCDU Plus
What Caused This
Log Watcher
Object Relocator
Outfit Organiser
Repository Wizard
SceneGraph Checker
Hood Exporter
BHAV Finder
BSOK Editor
DBPF Viewer
The configuration dialog now checks the three paths. Invalid paths are highlighted and the OK button disabled.
#sims2tools#hcdu plus#what caused this#log watcher#object relocator#outfit organiser#repository wizard#scenegraph checker#hood exporter#bhav finder#bsok editor#dbpf viewer#update
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――☀️ on first and fierce affirming sight
of sunlight, sunlight, sunlight ☀️――
(xps/vroid/gamerip/model mashup/render-that-i-drew-over of the Traveler's Specialest Princess<3 blender is still The Worst™ but i'm learning to grudgingly tolerate it since it can convert literally everything.)
P.S.: please don't tag this in a way that implies there was more than one destiny game, because there wasn't and pretending otherwise makes me very, very sad because I wish there was (but there wasn't). thank you!
#destiny#bungie destiny#destiny 2014#destiny hunter#prophet#guardian prophet#chi's adventures in art#her hair is from a fire emblem model and the halo was from the sims lmao but the rest i exported#REALLY glad the model api is still accessible even though stlgenerator got taken down...rip#i feel like i'm gonna start rambling bc i feel like this is stupid. someone come say something nice to me 😅😅😅😅#eta added a PS because the tags didn't make it clear. this is fanart for the 2014 video game “destiny”.#not halo or whatever that grimdark edgelord game they ditched destiny for is. ESPECIALLY not that one#god.....do you think if we ask Really Niceys they'd bring back iron banner and trials for Y10... i still want that cat hood 😔
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Medilivescare Manufacturing is one of Non-woven Hood for Head, Neck & Shoulder Manufacturers in India. Get Non-woven Hoods at very reliable price. Non-woven Hood for Head, Neck & Shoulder Manufacturers, Non-woven Hood for Head, Neck & Shoulder Exporters."> <meta property="og:type" content="product
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FEELGOOD IN THE HOOD: GEORGE JOHNSON AND BAND Fr. 13.05.22 7 // München // Import Export DJ + Konzert Einlass: 20.00 Beginn: 20.00 https://import-export.cc/event/feelgood-in-the-hood-george-johnson-and-band/
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The Battle Above the God’s Eye
part one: Sands of Time
prompt: decades after the Stepstones, it's his turn to be rescued.
pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!reader
fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon
word count: 6.3k+
note: i'm not the happiest with this piece, so i'll most definitely (probably) write an alternative when the time comes and the show does the Battle. y'all know me by now, you know i love me a good ol' reader-insert and i didn't want to wait years to publish some kind of sequel so here we are.
warnings: reader isn't explicitly a Targaryen but we had to make this work and i'm burnt the fuck out. so fuck it, dragon rider reader. cursing, books spoilers, violence, imagination required, maybe Red Priestess reader, mention of more Little Birds (let author live), toxic family (duh), heavily encouraged imagination, depictions of death, angst, some hurt and comfort i think ? missing warnings 'cause wonky brain goin' wonky.
"There's rumor, Mistress, of a dragon the color of night," the hooded figure informed. "It nests in the Ruins of Ancient Valyria, seen by farmers and countryfolk; they say his wings beat like thunder. It's a colossal shadow they fear to engage, but after hearing your ransom, they reported it."
You hummed as you took a sip of scalding tea, finding comfort in the heat, musing, "I've been to the Ruins myself on two seperate excursions, I promise you, friend, there is no dragon that nests there."
"It's come from the East, a new beast in the sky."
"I require proof if I am to pay the ransom."
The man with a hood over his head reached for his rucksack and rummaged, a moment later, placing two items on the polished mahogany table between you both. One was unmistakably a dragon's tooth, and when you examined it, there was still clotted blood on the root - assuring it was a fresh pull. The second was a large black scale that weighed at least a dagger's worth.
You smirked, "This is promising. Where in the Ruins has it been seen? Who procured these artifacts?"
You discussed specifics with the man for an hour, offering him a hefty finder's fee after getting the name of the village the man had gathered his own information from. It was a messy journey from there; leaving the home you had made in the decades since the Stepstones to head for what was probably another dead end in Ancient Valyria. You were something akin to a magistrate, the people saw you as a figurehead, a leader; their person of authority who they were all too happy to follow.
Your village flourished, growing in size, number, popularity, and strength by the passing day. The people seemed happy, wealth flowing from exports and trade, and apparently, a few cartographers have begun the process of updating a few maps to add your village's name to history.
Much had changed in your time away from your Rogue Dragon Prince, but you knew that was all coming to an end soon. Your Lord of Light had shown you much in your flames, one of which was a repeating image of you, mounted atop a dragon all your own, soaring over the Narrow Sea with distinct purpose. You weren't a Targaryen, but your religious devotion seemingly gave you the ability to walk amongst beasts and their flames.
Exploring Ancient Valyria took over a year on foot.
You had plenty of encounters with the Stone Men, but all met their merciful demise - those left after that steered clear of you and your Valyrian Steel sword. Around the ruins of the ancient volcano that hadn't erupted since The Doom, you found a graveyard of goat, sheep, and cattle bones. There were bigger skeletons of aquatic creatures, something you found incredibly fascinating - what fully grown dragon went deep diving?
Soon, you found scat.
For those who don't spend time in the wilderness or who are simply unfamiliar with the term, "scat" refers to waste produced by wild animals. Yeah, you're reading correctly, after you found the plethora of skeletons, you found dragon shit.
So, you knew you were closer than before. But the fucker still alluded you to the point you felt insane circling the Ruins.
You located about three different potential caverns, investigating them all with caution, but finding them all empty. Feeling exhausted from the months of searching, you claimed one of the caves as your own; hunting for a meal after gathering adequate fire wood. You listened to the untamed wilds of Valyria as you ate whatever you roasted, trying to distinguish familiar sounds of an approaching dragon.
Or perhaps even a distant one!
You'd take any sign!
It'd been weeks since you found the dragon droppings, no other signs appearing. You would search new areas for days, then return to your cave for rest; feeling disconnected from reality the longer you lingered in the ruined empire. You wondering what your village was doing, you were curious if the young woman, Ferona, had a baby boy or girl, if they had erected the new buildings you left blueprints for in an effort to create opportunist housing and houses of worship - as your people had requested.
How did the krill and shrimp season fair?
What weddings happened this past spring?
How was the irrigation system holding up?
Weeks drug by slowly. Weeks turned to longer months. Two years, you spent in that Gods forsaken ruin of a city - but couldn't find it in you to abandon your search.
Your Lord of Light had yet to send word, yet set your heart ablaze every time you "decided" to go home. You stared into the flames every night, desperate for any indication you were on the right path, but nothing was seen - nothing was said - nothing was shown to you. Until one night, during a torrential downpour and thunderous storm, you were shivering, drenched to your core, fighting the wind to let you keep your flames alive.
And there, in the dying, flickering warmth, you saw it. With wide, unblinking eyes, you stared into the flames harder; unsure how long you remained in the tranquil state before a particularly strong gust of wind nearly pushed you face-first into the embers. You gasped, looking around as the smoke nearly choked you as it filled the cave; stumbling out into the rain as you coughed and patted your chest. Stumbling slightly from malnourishment and delirium, you leaned on the outer shell of your "home", panting with relief before there came a screech so fearsome, you were then cowering into the wall with fear.
You dropped to your knees, huddled into the rock formation; the ground trembling as something enormous touched down. You gasped when through the haze of sideways rain, two nostrils flared and heaved thick plumes of smoke; reddened from the ignited flames deep within an invisible chest. You flattened against the wall, four taloned paws striking the ground and causing it to crack, quake, and tremble. With the fleeting clouds, you used the moon's light to distinguish the beast that loomed closer to you; over you; and then, in your face.
A long, blackened snout nearly pressed into your chest; fabric of your tunic caught in the razor sharp teeth. You had faced death, you had faced beasts, you had faced hacking axes and swinging swords. You had faced the wrath of the Queen Alysanne's court, the rumors of the common folk, and judgment from both man and God. But nothing was like this moment: a wild dragon staring you down, sniffing your chest and stomach, debating if it should just open it's mouth and eat you whole yet or not.
Thankfully, it chose an alternative route.
You're not fully sure how it happened, but you dedicated two years to finding this terrible beasty, and yet, it only took about 6 weeks to bond with the (obviously) young thing. Time with your Dragon Prince proved most useful, creating a bond so secure, you were beginning to wonder if someone deep in your bloodline had mated with a Targaryen. It was natural, the way you both became accustomed to one another; living together on a carbon-dated land long doomed.
The lessons from Daemon came flying back to you. You practiced your High Valyrian, laughing when you obviously got a word or two wrong because the dragon would snort at you. In the light, she was still the color of the night, but her scales were dusted the same gold as her eyes. She was impressive, she was huge in size but nowhere near Vhagar. In fact, you'd wager she had outgrew Caraxes - the only dragon you had true experience with.
Speaking of Caraxes, you were on the shores of Old Valyria, debating how you were going to convince your new companion to join you back "home" in the village, when suddenly, your beast gave a defensive growl.
Looking to the skyline, you spotted the distant dragon and frowned. This dragon wasn't the color of flames like Caraxes was, no, instead, it was a murky blob in the sky with two wings. You offered calming words to your dragon in her native language, not sensing danger, but your beast was unhappy leaving you in the open. Her tail curled around you to corral you back into her body as the muddy brown dragon landed with a thunderous shake a respectable distance away.
Your name was begged by the rider descending from who you recognized as a wild dragon by the name of Sheepstealer.
"Nettles? That you, love?" You asked in skepticism, managing out of your dragon's grasp. "What're you doing here? You all right?"
"I needed to find you," she panted. "I-I need you help - it's all - it's all gone wrong! Please!"
"What's wrong? The fuck's happened?"
"Do you know nothing, Auntie!? Do you know nothing of the war!?"
Your eyes rolled, "Watch that tone with me, girl. The Dance of Dragons is of no concern of mine, it had barely started when I came here."
"Well - it's your concern now," she insisted. "You took me under your wing - you helped raise me in a village you built from the ground, despite not ever needing to - "
"Your mother was a dear friend of mine," you cut her off sharply. "She was kind to me when I came back to Essos, let me stay with her and your father. When I set out on my own, she was always a friendly face, and when my settlement was established..."
"She came to you for help after getting pregnant with me," Nettles nodded. "You've told me this before."
"Then you should know better by now that I owed your mother more than my life, so, raising you was the least I could've done. A life for a life."
"And as such, you let me go into the world with stories filling my head of a handsome Dragon Prince that saved you from the Crabfeeder!" You scoffed at her words, ready to argue, but she rushed, "He's in trouble, Auntie."
You paused, finding no lie in the girl's eye. Slowly, you asked, "Come again?"
"I found him, Mistress," she nodded. "After I got back to Westeros, I found your Prince Daemon - the ones from the stories! He's... He's brutish and harsh, they call him Rogue, but he was kind to me when I told him I knew you. When he heard your name, Lady, he just - he insisted on keeping me close. He protected me, even against his wife - Princess Rhaenyra."
Your head cocked, "Hmm... He usually did have a taste for younger flesh. I'm not surprised he took to you - "
"No, no, no, Mistress, not like that," she insisted desperately. "He was kind, educational - similar to a mentor."
"I see."
"He needs your help."
"Prince Daemon does not need rescuing, he is no damsel."
"He searches for Prince Aemond," she informed, making you lift your chin slightly. Though lost in the wild of Valyria the past two years, you were still well versed in the affairs of King's Landing; staying updated, curtesy of your Lord, the Lord of Light: R'hllor. In your village, you were known to pay for any accurate information - eventually hiring your own spies to relay trustworthy information from around surrounding cities and villages. Nettles was one of your Little Birds.
You sighed, "And? What of it - Aemond killed Lucerys, did he not? Since he married his niece, her children are now his step-children, right? Daemon is within his rights to want some form of vengeance - it's war, Nettie, it's never fair to anybody.
"He will not survive this, you don't understand! It's horrible, Mistress, please, he-he-he's deranged. Mad with grief, lost to his wife's useless fucking war. It'll be the death of him, Auntie, please!" She paused, seeing you just stare back at her; so she begged again, "Please!"
You nodded, "What do you want me to do, Nettie? Hmm?"
"You've told me those stories! I remember them well! You always said he came back for you, saved you from The Crabfeeder," she reminded, making you stiffen. "Does he not deserve the same? Or at least a chance? Rhaenyra will not help, she'll kill him herself I fear, but you can - you can help!"
You nodded, "I will consult the flames - "
"I am telling you - "
"I have heard you, girl!" You snapped, glaring at your Little Bird. "But there are greater forces at work than what you know, I cannot just so willfully trust the word of a child before flying off across the Narrow Sea. Allow me my time with my Lord, I will have an answer for you." Turning from her, you gathered whatever materials you could; setting it up in a small teepee before stepping back.
In High Valyrian, you gave your command. From over your shoulder, your beasty opened her mouth and shot a single flame at the structure.
On your knees, you muttered repeatedly; chanting, summoning your Lord of Light to come to you now in a great hour of need. And He did. Through the flames, you saw what R'hllor wanted to show you: the two Princes engaged in a brutally epic fight that would claim them both in the end...
Unless you left right that moment, as your Lord commanded.
"Make yourself safe, Nettles, go back home," you told her in a rush, catching the pouch of Gold Dragons she tossed you when you sprung into action - and for the first time, mounted your dragon. Like your minds were connected, the Great Shadow took to the sky - leaving Nettles and Sheepstealer behind, and you'd never see either again.
You remained high in the sky, being a blob to the naked eye should any dare to stare at the sun.
You only paused to let the Great Shadow dive into the Narrow Sea for a meal; surfacing with creatures in her jaws as you swam an exhausting broad stroke. Was it terrifying to swim in the open water? Absolutely, but your dragon seemingly kept any threats at bay. When she was satisfied with her meal, the Great Shadow scooped you onto her back and relaunched into the air again to continue your flight for Westeros. You both dried in the air.
The trip was draining.
It was grueling on you both.
Yet when you saw the distant shore, you couldn't help the spike of relief in your heart and veins.
Once in Westeros, you were forced to ground yourselves in the open area of the Stormlands because you needed to know where to go since Nettles hadn't been sure where to send you specifically. Using the usual thunderstorm as cover, you had to separate from the Great Shadow; leaving her in the dark as you ventured to the closest village.
With the pouch of Gold Dragons Nettles gave you, you paid for information that you needed. You were told all the nitty gritty details about the Dance of the Dragons that you've missed, understanding what (Nettles and) the Lord of Light had been trying to tell you for years: the Black Queen would be Prince Daemon's death.
The time had come for you to return his favor from the Stepstones. If this worked the way you wanted it to, you wouldn't be his first, second, nor third wife, but his fourth and final. You knew what you had to do.
"What do you know of their whereabouts?" You asked the innkeeper who wiped down the bar you leaned on.
"The Princes?" She asked, tisking right after. "The One Eyed Prince has been burning the Riverlands for almost two weeks now. The Rogue Prince was in Maidenpool but he's called his nephew to meet him at, uh, oh... Oh, bullocks, what's that haunted castle? The one that was torched?"
"Harrenhal?"
She snapped her fingers at you, "That's the one!"
"Fuckin' Hell," you muttered, wiping your eyes. "What's your thinking, love? 'Bout this war?"
She scoffed, rolling her eyes, "Stupidest thing I've endured so far. How silly, the House of the Dragon does not know who rules it, or so says our liege lord. So we must all pay their price in Fire and Blood."
You nodded slowly, "Who do you think holds the better claim t'the Throne?"
"Depends on your views," she muttered, "but in truth, it doesn't matter to me - so long as this all comes to an end. But between us?" She leaned in, glancing around before muttering, "The Bitch Queen would burn us all. Can't say if King Aegon would be much better, but at least we'd know what we were dealing with."
"And if he was another Maegor?"
"Can't be worse than the Black Queen. Hear they call her Maegor with Tits."
You smirked, chuckling lightly, "Thank you, ma'am, for your words." You offered her a few Gold Dragons, repeating, "Harrenhal?"
"Harrenhal," she nodded, accepting the payment. "I do not know if the One Eyed Prince will answer the Rogue Prince's challenge, but that is where he lures Prince Aemond - Harrenhal. Now, how's about a nice bowl of stew? You look drenched, love, and a bit skinny - you been eatin'?"
"Your kindness is refreshing in this shit-for-a-kingdom."
You winked at her and tapped the bar in parting before turning for the door, and into the rain you ventured once more. You didn't notice the cold, your Lord kept you warm and moving; finding the Great Shadow, mounting, and shooting off into the unknown sky again.
It wasn't easy directing a dragon without a saddle nor any stabilizing reins, yet your beast was something of a decently smooth fly. You minimally directed her as you went, but in truth, her instincts directed you both more than anything. When the storm broke, you were soon flying over charred scores of land; homes smoldering and burning, the wind spreading the embers and never letting the fire fully die out.
"The fuck..." You muttered, sitting up straight as you flew through the carnage. "Seven Hells, he burnt it all, didn't he?" You whispered, needing to hold onto the spinal ridges of your dragon to keep balanced. "Gods be good," you gaped at the damage beneath you.
The sun moved into position, getting ready to set when you heard the horrible screams of feuding dragons. You couldn't see Harrenhal yet, but you heard the fight, and then, as the sun began to set, there came flashes of bright firelight that lit the sky to a new level.
It was nearly the shade of daylight with the way the flames danced against the setting sun. You were desperate to get closer, and after directing the Great Shadow over a set of charred rolling hills, you finally had Harrenhal in sight. "Go! Go, please! That's them - we need t'get there!" You begged through a small sob of panic, and if possible, your dragon flew all the faster.
You were so close, yet felt so far.
The air trembled when the pair of dragons, Vhagar and Caraxes, collided in the sky once more. They grappled and snarled and shrieked and blew flames and gnashed their teeth and slashed their talons. You paid no mind to the pregnant woman standing on the shoreline of the lake they fought over, and instead, focused on your task; feeling as if you were moving on pure instinct and adrenaline.
The Great Shadow dove low to the lake's surface as Caraxes and Vhagar came barreling to the ground. It all happened too fast. As the two dragons fell, you saw one man - in black armor - leap from his crimson beast with his Valyrian sword winking in the dying light. Just as his arm extended to pierce Dark Sister into Aemond's blind eye, the dragons were tussling enough to turn over and forced Daemon off their hide.
You gasped as you reacted - no fucking thought to your actions.
As the Great Shadow glided over the surface of the Gods Eye lake, you were leaping off her back to launch into the air; tackling the Rogue Prince hard enough to disrupt his impact on the water's surface. You hit the water all the same, but instead of it being like hitting fresh pavement, it was a softer landing due to the Great Shadow's expert and quick maneuvering.
Two dragons hit the water, three human bodies; sending a wave of water higher than the towers of Harrenhal's fortress. It was a shock to land in something so wet and cold, but your adrenaline was stronger than any feeling of freezing water. Your arms kept an iron-clad lock around Daemon's unconscious waist, surfacing as the lake rippled and churned from impact; turning a seeping red from the open wounds on the dragon sinking into the depths.
Prince Aemond never surfaced, and years from now, he'd be found still chained to Vhagar's saddle with Dark Sister still stabbed through his skull. His Red Witch standing on shore couldn't save him, it appearing that your Lord preferred the Rogue Prince to the One Eyed.
Keeping Daemon afloat was difficult, but to your shock, you were being gently propelled forward to the shore by a fatally injured Caraxes. You encouraged him best you could, trying not to choke on the water splashing around your frantic forms. When you were able, you started heaving and dragging Daemon up the lake's embankment; the crimson dragon crawling out of the lake behind you, slowly, heading towards Harrenhal. You wanted to offer the loyal beast aid or comfort, but you were much too preoccupied with his master that was dead weight in the water's surf.
You trembled as you swiftly hoisted his dragon winged helmet off to leave bobbing in the surf; unhooked his armor, shucking it off him and compressing his chest rapidly - just like a fisherman taught you to do.
"C'mon," you grunted. "C'mon, Daemon, breathe - fucking breathe, damnit! Please, come back to me - don't do this. I just found you again, c'mon, my Prince, breathe. Breathe, Daemon, don't give up - not now, not on us! Don't give up on us, c'mon, my Prince, breathe, w-we finally have our time." Sobs wracked your form. "Breathe, Daemon, please! Please! I'm back - I finally found you, please, my love, breathe!"
You shoved harder into his breast bone with increased ferocity until water came suddenly spewing from his lungs. You heard the Great Shadow land in the near distance, turning Daemon on his side to help him breathe better; choking the water out. You spoke in relief, "There, there you go, c'mon, love, breathe! Thank fucking Gods, you're all right, you're okay, get it out - you're okay, just breathe, my love."
Daemon choked your name in pure disbelief, holding one of your wrists in a vice grip that only briefly concerned you. He panted and relaxed into the embankment, loosening his grip as he turned over to look up at you in shock and wonder. "How is this possible?" He wheezed.
"It's a bit of a long story," you teased softly, caressing his cheek. "Bit of a boring tale, 'M afraid."
"How? How is - how can this be?"
"You needed me," you explained, "thought I'd return the favor since you saved me all those years ago, huh? You got me out of the sea, I got you out of the lake - we're even, yeah?"
He still panted, only staring at you as if he couldn't believe himself. "You've not aged a day," he whispered.
You smiled, petting his cheekbone with your thumb daintly. "You need rest, reprieve, aid," you whispered.
"No, no," he gulped, "not when I just got you back. T-Tell me 's done. Tell me we're done being apart."
"You have a wife still, Daemon. She won't let you go, she wouldn't let us be together."
"Tell me what your flames say."
"Now you trust my flames?"
"When they bring you back to me, yes - oh, fuck yes, I'll believe whatever those fucking flames say. Please, love, for us - consult your flames, tell me what they've said."
You frowned, petting a soaking wet lock of hair from his forehead. Quietly, you whispered, "My Lord showed me what was to pass if I did not come for you... This war, this Dance of Dragons, would claim your life, Daemon. Your wife, your niece... She'll be the end of you, my Prince. You will not survive if you go back to her. Neither of you will survive this... My Lord has shown me that Rhaenyra will meet her end in flames, but following her will cost you your life in water," you glanced at the lake. "Not a death befitting of a Targaryen Prince."
"And now?"
"Now, she will fight her own battles for the first time," you whispered, "and I will return home, and you will make a choice."
He smirked, "We've gone lifetimes apart, like you said before."
"We have."
"I would not go another day," he coughed, wincing in pain. "I do not think I can fight anymore anyways, love. Please... Please."
Daemon never begged. You swallowed harshly, asking him, "No? No more fighting?"
"No," he agreed. "'M so tired, my sweet. I-I can't do this forever," he half-slurred, making you perk up slightly in attention. "Retirement sounds all too appealing now. Rumor will spread that neither Aemond or I lived, it'll be the perfect escape."
You nodded in agreement, flinching when a new voice screeched, "YOU BITCH!"
The pregnant woman you saw on shore stormed towards you, making you chuckle dryly as you had already foreseen this Alys Rivers - pregnant concubine of the One Eyed Prince Aemond and fellow Follower of R'hllor. Alys was unique in the sense that her training was decent enough to ensnare Aemond (it seemed), but not so decent that the Lord yet favored her.
She wasn't more than ten feet from you when the Great Shadow opened her mouth and showered the Red Witch in holy flames; an end she surely did not see coming - not that R'hllor would've showed her. This all caught Daemon's attention, who flinched slightly when he had to turn and look; not expecting the flames nor the beast.
Then his eyes drifted over the land, breathing hitching, and he sat up with a painful groan. "Daemon," you worried, but instead of trying to get him down, you helped him up.
You knew what he saw.
When at Caraxes' side, you helped Daemon lower to his knees at his dragon's head. He whimpered and moaned, belly slashed open, wing torn apart; bleeding out into the cold soil he rested on. The Great Shadow moaned gently in sympathy, lowering herself around you three to let you grieve in peaceful, protective privacy and ease Caraxes to his next life.
The moon was fully in the sky when the crimson bloodwyrm took his final breath with the ebony giant's flames to warm you all. You weren't sure what could be done, but Daemon was pressing a tender kiss to his dragon's head before turning to face you - a lost, confused, vulnerable look coating his features. "Come on, love," you eased gently, helping him to his feet; knowing a few ribs were shattered and probably his clavicle, too.
"Where will we go now?"
"Well, I have somewhere safe for us t'live," you grunted in assurance, wobbling a little under his weight. "But we need rest for tonight. Any ideas?"
"I doubt anyone will venture to Harrenhal this night, should be safe..."
You agreed, and together, you and Daemon settled in the empty castle with the Great Shadow resting on the outskirts of the Keep. She was too big for the interior of the courtyard, so, she was left outside with Caraxes' corpse as you and Daemon settled in the room he had commandeered.
"How is this possible? How can you be here?" He asked, holding your hips as you worked between his spread legs. Daemon had minimal supplies at the ready; hopping up on a work bench to let you care for his injuries and wounds. He watched your every move with a softening look. "I thought I wouldn't ever see you again, that I'd be cursed to only remember you in my dreams. Rhaenyra said I say your name a lot at night, when I sleep."
"I'm really here, Daemon, ease yourself," you offered an assuring grin, tending to the head wounds he obtained from the fight.
"How?"
"Nettles."
"What?"
"Nettles," you repeated with a smirk. "She's one of my Little Birds, Daemon. It was not entirely coincidence she found you..."
"So she said," he frowned. "But how - "
"She told me you needed me," you smiled softly. "And when I consulted the flames, I was shown what could be. I made a decision, I just wanted you safe, no matter what that meant."
"I just want you. Fuck," he seethed, squeezing your hips, "'s been fucking decades since I've even touched you."
"You're delirious," you teased. "Sleep deprived, maybe concussed."
"Perhaps all at once, but I finally have all I've dreamt of. Please," he whispered, "do not deny us longer. I've endured lifetimes - "
"Daemon, being here and now, you know I can't walk away. But we've time t'talk it all out, I need you to let me help your wounds - so sit still."
He nodded, "One thing I do not understand, though - the dragon? How did you...?"
"Spent two years in Valyria, looking for her."
"Why were you there?"
"Searching for a dragon, of course," you smirked. "She's impressive, isn't she? And from her size, I wager she can easily support us both back across the Narrow Sea."
He grit his teeth when you cleaned his open cuts and wounds, wrapping whatever clean cloth you had around the larger wounds; easing him out of his tunic to have better access to the blackened ribs he sported. "Would you tell me?" Daemon whispered some time later.
"Of what?"
"Your life since the Stepstones?"
"Oh," you chuckled, "sweet love, you know it was dreadfully boring without you."
"Doesn't seem it, you being in Valyria two years? That's not heard of, what was it like? How'd you survive? Why go looking for a dragon?"
This lead to you both laying in bed, hands held together, resting, but not sleeping. You just spoke quietly, fingertips tracing idly over each other's faces; sharing in each others lives that the other missed, reminiscing together in fond memories.
When morning broke, you had to move swiftly. Caraxes was left where he laid and after a final parting to the loyal beast and commandeering his saddle, together, you and Daemon mounted the Great Shadow. She wasn't a fan of the restraints, but once you and Daemon were mounted, she did not fuss as it was evident you humans had an easier time with the leather contraption.
"I must confess," Daemon whispered in your ear, using you as an anchor and leaning into your back, "I fear I might feel something akin to guilt for fleeing home."
"That's natural," you assured, "you're leaving family behind, 's never easy."
"There was no winning this war," he admitted, sighing. "I lead so many to their death... Destroyed my family - "
"From what I have heard, this is not your doing," you argued sharply. "That night, when Aemond attacked Lucerys, what were you to do? Leave that kind of atrocity without consequence? No, that is not in the Targaryen's nature. You did not start this war, Daemon."
"But I knew..."
"You knew what?"
"I knew Jace, Luke, and Joffrey were Harwin Strong's, not Laenor Velaryon's. We thought if we married her sons to my daughters, nobody would care much else about lineage - but we were wrong."
"It's okay to be wrong," you promised, leaning your head back to let your forehead rest against his temple. "It's okay to make mistakes or have regret. Tell me, do you wish to return to your wife? I will take you now, no quest - "
"No. No, I do not wish to leave you. This is... This is Rhaenyra's war, I've done my part. I'm free and finally with whom I belong."
"Now it's time to heal," you told him.
"Time to rest," he agreed, squeezing your waist and placing a few kisses to your neck. "This is where I should've been all this time... After the Stepstones, I should've stayed with you, none of this would've come to pass. I regret leaving you everyday - "
"I told you, for us to get here, to this point, now, we had to separate. But look where we are," you smiled back at him, the Great Shadow soaring higher in the sky to keep Westeros at a distance, "we will not be apart again. 'S you and me, love... Until our end, which we will greet together."
Daemon's lips found yours at long last, whispering, "Together," against them before sweeping his tongue against yours.
The port was lovely this time of day, sun high in the sky to give light to the fishermen and vendors hard at work. Sailors made port, calms were being shucked, different Aristocats trying to barter and trade on their journeys abroad. You smiled at the people you passed, grateful to be home after a prolonged absence; arm looped tight with Daemon's as you both strolled the pier.
"It's hard to imagine you've done all this in a lifetime or less," he mused, a hand folded over yours, dressed in the best clothes you could find. "It's s marvel, my sweet," his compliment was sincere.
"Thank you," you whispered, hugging his arm as your skirts swished around your ankles, just tickling your bare feet. "This season's expected to be bountiful," you told him, pointing to the various teams bringing crustaceans, fish, and other sea life in different crates and traps. "I expect there won't be much of an off-season."
He glanced around, "And you don't collect taxes?"
"Why would I?" You scoffed. "We're more dynamic than that. Everyone works for their place, if you wanted to think of it that way. They are not expected to contribute, but the village seems happier that way. Being close knit, helping one another, sharing wealth. No one person has complained, so, I figure it's working so far. Even if it didn't work, I still wouldn't charge them taxes - it'd be like charging them to live. Always seemed silly t'me."
"Morning, Mistress!"
"Morning, Don," you beamed, leading Daemon towards the dock. "How are you, kind sir? Looks as if you've been working all day already."
"Aye, up before the sun," he nodded, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. "Wanted t'thank yah, actually."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, yeah, with that dragon? We're hauling in more ships," he chuckled, and just overhead, the Great Shadow glided over them all to head out to sea to fetch another round of ships. "Gets us out there quick, brings us back when done, 's like a wee bit of an assembly line, ain't it?"
You chuckled, "Sounds like it, friend. Uh, Don, have I introduced you to my husband?"
"Husband?" Don grinned, cocking his head, "No, Mistress, I wasn't aware you even had a suitor. Mariam don't tell me much gossip these days," he snickered, referring to his wife. "It's nice t'meet you," he told Daemon, "name's Don, just Don - no, it ain't short for nothin'."
Daemon smirked some, shaking the man's fishy hand boldly, "A pleasure, Don, Just Don."
"Oh, this one's got a bit uh humor, don't he?" Don laughed lightly. "What's your name, lad?"
"Daemon?" A voice answered for you all, and just above you, a little further on the pier, stood an aged Laenor Velaryon.
"Excuse us, Don," you spoke swiftly, confusion marring your features. He understood or sensed the slight tension, backing off to let you approach the "dead" knight.
"Oh, my - Y/N," Laenor breathed, another aged man at his side with what you assume to be his children. No question could be asked yet as your old friend launched himself into your arms, laughing merrily, giving you a tight squeeze with his still-toned arms. "Oh, the Gods are good for this!" He laughed, rocking you slightly, "Oh, how the Seven bless us."
"You're so dramatic," you laughed back, patting him happily until he pulled back. "But I must confess, I am so fucking confused - what is this? How are you here? I thought you died, Laenor, that's what ever spy reported."
"They should've," he nodded, glancing at Daemon, "but perhaps, the explanation will be better received after some wine?" He caressed your cheek in affection before looking at your husband, nodding, "It's good to see you again, my Prince. Or is it King Consort?"
"Neither, just Daemon," he corrected, your heart soaring a little at the idea that he would abandon his title so easily. Yet you knew, there was nothing to go back to for him.
"Well, how about I introduce my family?"
"Family?" You grinned, seeing him present the others.
"My husband," he gestured, giving his name. "And our kids," he introduced the other three.
"How?" You asked simply.
"We found a Red Priest who was willing to officiate the ceremony," Laenor explained, "and the kids were sired by different mothers, too."
"Whores," the husband smiled.
"Huh," you nodded in impression. "Well, perhaps wine is best to hear that tale, as well?"
"Perhaps," Laenor grinned. "Uh, but first, we should find accommodations - "
"Oh, come off it, you're staying with us," you waved. "Your belongings?"
"This is it," he half-shrugged, you eyeing the few rucksacks around their feet, neck, shoulders... "We heard of the prosperity here, thought it was worth the move."
"How right you are," Daemon answered. "Come, old friend." He picked up a few sacks for the kids and you looped your arm with Laenor's to lead the way. How good it was to have your friend back, your husband at your side, and a functioning, happy village with your placement amongst them most important... Everything you could've wished for, it seemed, came true.
And in your womb, a Dragon Seed was planted; soon to make its announcement known. Truly, a happier ending than you thought deserved - but R'hollr worked mysteriously, blessing those deemed worthy to spread his flames.
requesting rules and masterlist
HOTD masterlist
note: i'm not the happiest with this piece, so i'll most definitely (probably) write an alternative when the time comes and the show does the Battle.
y'all know me by now, you know i love me a good ol' reader-insert and i didn't want to wait years to publish some kind of sequel so here we are.
#daemon#prince daemon#daemon targaryen x reader#daemon targaryen x fem!reader#daemon targaryen x f!reader#daemon targaryen x female!reader#daemon targaryen imagine#daemon targaryen fanfiction#daemon targaryen angst#prince daemon targaryen x fem!reader#prince daemon targaryen x f!reader#prince daemon targaryen x female!reader#prince daemon targaryen imagine#prince daemon targaryen fanfiction#prince daemon targaryen angst
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🇺🇲 Step back in time and experience the roar of the iconic AMC Javelin, a true legend of American muscle cars! Introduced in 1967 by American Motors Corporation (AMC), the Javelin was a front-engine, rear-wheel-drive, two-door hardtop automobile manufactured across two generations, spanning from 1968 through 1970 and then from 1971 through 1974 model years. It was designed to compete in the pony car market segment against rivals like the Ford Mustang and Chevrolet Camaro.
🚗💨 The AMC Javelin burst onto the scene in 1968, showcasing a sleek design and powerful engines. Styled by Dick Teague, the Javelin offered a range of trim and engine levels, from economical pony car variants to high-performance muscle car models. Its distinctive appearance, featuring a long hood and aggressive stance, turned heads on the streets and racetracks alike.
🏭 Besides being manufactured in Kenosha, Wisconsin, Javelins were also assembled under license in Germany, Mexico, the Philippines, Venezuela, and Australia, showcasing its global reach. American Motors even offered discounts to U.S. military personnel, leading to many Javelins being exported overseas.
🛞 Under the hood, the Javelin packed serious power. It was available with inline-six engines or potent V8s, delivering thrilling acceleration and speed. The AMX variant, equipped with a 6.4-liter V8, boasted over 300 horsepower!
🏆 The AMC Javelin wasn't just about looks—it excelled on the track too. It competed in Trans-Am racing, demonstrating its speed and agility. In fact, the second-generation AMX variant was the first pony car used as a standard vehicle for highway police car duties by an American law enforcement agency. Today, the Javelin's unique style and racing heritage make it a sought-after classic among collectors.
💔 By 1974, the automobile landscape had shifted. While other manufacturers downsized engines in response to changing market demands and fuel shortages, the Javelin's big engine option continued until production ceased in November 1974 amidst the Arab oil embargo and declining interest in high-performance vehicles.
🦅 The AMC Javelin embodies the spirit of American muscle cars, blending style, performance, and affordability. It's a timeless classic that continues to capture the hearts of car enthusiasts everywhere. Get ready to hit the road and experience the thrill of the AMC Javelin!
#brits and yanks on wheels#retro cars#transatlantic torque#vehicle#cars#old cars#brands#companies#automobile#american cars#amc#american motors#american muscle#amc javelin#javelin#muscle car#pony car#race car#trans am#old car#classic cars#car#american auto#automotive#chevrolet camaro#chrysler#wisconsin#kenosha#made in usa#ford mustang
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1969 Shelby Mustang GT500 Fastback
1969 was, effectively, the final year for the Shelby Mustang. By now assembly had shifted in Michigan from California where it was contracted out to A.O. Smith Corporation. Smith, an established Motor City contractor, had brought a level of serious manufacturing skill, supplier management, procedure and standards never seen at Shelby’s facility where LAX met the vibrant (and sometimes extreme) subculture of Venice, California.
Now largely designed and specified by Ford staffers, the 1969 Shelby Mustang was drastically different visually from the standard Mustangs, with a completely different nose and grille, a wide rectangular opening with blacked out grille flanked by 7” headlights and with Shelby’s characteristic driving lights now smaller rectangular pieces below the attractive, but largely ineffective, bumper. The special Shelby hood had five ducts, three NACA-style surface ducts replaced the complicated but entertaining shaker hoods of years gone by to supply cold air directly to the engine air intake and two extractors at the back of the hood relieving underhood pressure and exhausting heated air in front of the windshield.
A surface duct behind the headlights and a scoop behind the door and in front of the rear wheel arch that was ducted to the rear brakes continued the performance theme. The rear panel was completely different from the Mustang, housing a set of 1965 Thunderbird sequential taillights with the rear license plate placed between them and including a small ducktail spoiler. The area under the bumper where standard Mustangs carried their license plate contained two rectangular outlets for the Shelby’s dual exhaust system. Standard wheels were unique 5-spoke Mag Stars with alloy centers and chrome steel rims.
Under the hood lay the 428 Cobra Jet which had powered the ’68 Shelby GT500KR. Both Ford and Shelby recognized the superiority of the high performance CJ and made it the standard engine for 1969’s Shelby Mustangs.
At the end of the 1969 model year 789 Shelby Mustangs were in-process at A.O. Smith. They were visually updated with black hood stripes and a chin spoiler and given new VINs. Otherwise the 1970s were exactly the same as the ‘69s making these two years essentially identical examples of the end of the Shelby Mustang series which had begun only a scant six years before.
Avidly sought by collectors and obsessively documented by the Shelby American Automobile Club, most Shelby Mustangs are well known and have well known histories. Occasionally, however, a example appears which has been out of sight for years. Even more rarely it turns out to have been little used and continuously maintained by a thoughtful and caring single owner for nearly forty years.
The Black Jade 1969 Shelby Mustang GT500 Sportsroof fastback offered here is one of those rare and highly desirable cars. It was delivered new to Ford’s dealer in Yokohama, Japan, Marubeni Motors K.K., and was sold thereafter to its first, and only, owner in Japan. It has been repainted in the original color once but is otherwise completely original, as delivered and has only 84,941km on its metric-calibrated export speedometer (52,779 miles.) Its sympathetic maintenance and care shows throughout in its clean, straight, rust-free condition.
Power of course comes from the 428 cubic inch Cobra Jet Ram Air V-8 engine which Ford and Shelby conservatively rated at 335 horsepower at 5,200rpm and a gut-wrenching 440 lb-ft torque at 3,400rpm. It puts the power through Ford’s highly regarded C-6 automatic transmission and Traction-Lok differential with high speed 3.00:1 gearing that takes full advantage of the CJ engine’s torque. In addition to the highly desirable drivetrain specification it is loaded with options including the Visibility Group, Goodyear white letter tires, Sport Deck folding rear seat, power front disc brakes, power steering, tilt steering column, Selectaire air conditioning, AM/8-track stereo radio, tinted glass, deluxe belts, tachometer and trip odometer.
It is finished in one of the Shelby Mustang’s most attractive colors, Black Jade. The interior and high back buckets seats are upholstered in black Clarion Knit/Corinthian vinyl that complements with Black Jade exterior.
It returned to the U.S. in 2006 but has never been titled by its current owner so it remains a one-owner car. Its absolutely clear history, one-owner provenance, highly original condition with known mileage and extensive options list are attributes shared by few Shelby Mustangs of this age. This is a rare opportunity for an astute collector to acquire a particularly significant, unmolested Shelby Mustang from the last, and most highly developed, series.
1969 Shelby Mustang GT500 Fastback
Powered by a 428ci V8 engine mated to a C6 automatic transmission, this beauty includes the original #Shelby owner card, a copy of the Shelby work order and Window Sticker.
1969 Shelby Mustang GT500 Fastback
1969 Shelby Mustang GT500 Fastback
#Shelby Mustang GT500 Fastback#Shelby Mustang GT500#Shelby Mustang#Mustang#Shelby#car#cars#muscle car#american muscle#ford
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The Duffle Coat
It gets cold and that was also a big problem on the Navies' ship. There were large overcoats, but these were mainly for the officers. The ordinary sailors also had warm jackets but nothing resembling an overcoat and so the duffle coat came into play at the end of the 19th century.
Sailors of HMS King George V in WW1 in warm Duffle Coats
The most widespread myth about the origins of the duffle is that the coat is of Belgian origin. The Belgian town of Duffel in the province of Antwerp was known in the 15th century as a cloth-making town that exported its fabrics throughout Europe. The "duffel" fabric itself was a black, coarse woollen fabric, after which the duffle coat was named, but it was never made in the city that gave it its name, nor was it made from duffel fabric. It was probably initially English wool that was used for it.
Many claim that the English borrowed the Belgian term to create the duffle coat as we know it today. In 1820, John Partridge, a British outerwear merchant, began designing and offering the duffle coat for sale. At that time, it looked very different to today, although it was already equipped with the characteristic wooden buttons, as it was inspired by the Polish frock coat, the so-called Bekiesza.
Walter Luyken as corporation Student in Bonn (Germany) wearing a Bekiesza, 1928/29
A few years later in the 1890s, the Royal British Navy was looking for a hard-wearing, seaworthy coat, and so the British Admiralty commissioned the duffle coat, which proved to be a great success and was worn on military ships all over the world from then on. Just like the modern duffle coat, it was fitted with a hood and a horizontal toggle fastening. Of course, there were no pockets on a coat back then, and it was cut tighter than the bulky cut of the British navy, but there is still a great similarity.
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Deepmire- Tropical Vacation 'Hood
Home to Argonians.
Exports: Tropical & New World Crops & Fruit
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Who Knows Who?
A new transform for extracting relationship data via Hood Exporter V1.4
After exporting with the whoknowswho.xsl transform active, the resulting WhoKnowsWho.txt file can be imported into MS-Excel for further processing.
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As the person I follow who does reverse engineering, do you have any suggestions for finding resources on reverse engineering Android apps?
Specifically, there's an app I'm playing with, where after seeing the structure of the "export as Markdown" output I want to know what the internal structure and representation of the data is. The end goal of understanding it is to be able to add certain kinds of data dynamically, rather than up front. That's certainly doable typing in raw markdown, but being able to do it "app style" would be more convenient.
The google Play Store entry does not mention any open source licenses, or looking for the source code and hopefully a git repo or something would have been my first step.
(I'll probably need to bang together a crappy app to do what I really want regardless, but maybe this app's data structure would be more convenient than doing so with markdown.)
So, android stuff:
First you need the APK. You can do some trickery with your phone to pull it over the ADB connection if you install the android SDK, but generally I just google "app name APK" and you'll find some greymarket site that'll give you a copy.
Secondly, APKs are just ZIP files (JAR files, technically, but JAR files are also just ZIP files!). Unzip them and you can find lots of interesting stuff, often.
For disassembling/decompiling them, my go-to program is jadx. It's a java decompiler that's been around a while and can natively open APK files and decompile them. There's some weirder new APKs that it can't handle (something to do with a newer bytecode revision, I think?) but I can't recall the details on how you handle those. Those are rare, in my experience. jadx is pretty good, but you'll occasionally find methods or entire classes that it just can't figure out, and it'll give you a bytecode dump. I don't yet have a good solution for those, other than "get good at reading JVM bytecode".
If you're dealing with games, another useful thing can be UABE and dotPeek. These are unity/C# tools, but you would be surprised how many android games (and non-games!) are actually unity under the hood.
Bluestacks can also be useful, because it'll let you run the app on your desktop and that can be handy for things like running WireShark to log all network traffic.
Speaking of logging, the other handy thing I've done is enabling android developer mode on my phone to get to one specific option: Bluetooth HCI snoop log.
Now, actually getting that log is tricky and varies from phone to phone, because for some reason manufacturers like to move it around, but it's one of the best ways to reverse engineer bluetooth communication stuff. You basically turn on the log and everything your phone does to communicate with your Smart Toothbrush or whatever will be logged to a file, then you can yank that file over and stuff it into Wireshark.
So... hopefully some of that is a helpful start? I've not done a huge amount of Android reversing so I'm not super familiar with the tools used, but these are the ones I've got on hand for when I do.
also sorry for all the horny robotgirl posters who saw "android reverse engineering" in the tags and thought this was gonna be about taking them apart with screwdrivers and rooting around in their insides. Not today!
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Executioner | Renaissance AU
Summary: Natasha is the king’s executioner. What plot? Just smut.
Natasha x f!reader
Warnings: 18+ only! Read at your own risk, panties definitely came off in this one, beheadings.
Masterlist
You knew you shouldn’t have been in that tavern after curfew. Some of the local women whispered about meeting to discuss steps to improve living conditions in your village. You thought it was worth trying. The king had no intentions on helping the starving women and children. The draft had taken every able bodied man, leaving your people devastated. None of you expected the kings men to burst in. You wouldn’t have gone if you knew what you’d be charged with.
You can’t see anything as burlap sack was roughly crammed onto your head. Desensitization wasn’t a new tactic, pigs for slaughter were treated this way. If you can’t see how close death is, you’re less likely to freak out. You stood there shackled to a girl on both sides of you, shaking in fear, using your last moments to pray. If you tilted your head just right you could see out of the bottom of the sack. A pool of red creeps towards your toes, and you hear the swing of a blade yet again. The only thing louder at the moment is the scream of the girl ahead of you, she knows she’s next. Your arm is jerked forward as the shackle is unlocked, separating you from the crying girl.
You close your eyes as you begin to pray, what king would do this to his people? You didn’t do anything wrong, the village only wants food and clothes for the winter. You knew why he didn’t favor your village; you didn’t export any goods. No crops, linen, or cattle were given to the castle. The women needed everything just to keep their children and elderly alive.
The blade makes contact with the wooden bench yet again, and you begin to shake. You won’t cry, you won’t let them have the satisfaction. They can take your life but they can’t have your soul. You had no reaction as the sack was pulled from your head. Your eyes squint to adjust to the sun. Standing in front of you is a tall man, so broad he shields you from the crowd of onlookers. He starts fiddling with your shackle and you look around him, seeing that you’re on a high wooden platform in the middle of the capital. Hundreds of subjects crowded around, waiting for the next beheading.
You catch a glimpse of red hair behind the man, but he jerks you forward before you can get a better look. You pad forward, and the crowds chatter becomes clearer “treasonous bitch!” “Witch” “this will teach you!” ”long live King Stark!”. You couldn’t help but to laugh out loud. They really thought the king cared for them. They could be on this chopping block next, they’re too deluded to see it. You start giggling louder, and louder and it draws the attention of the red haired woman.
“Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.” You tilt your head to the side and see a short woman, black robes covering her, a large hood pulled halfway up. “I am being prosecuted for being a woman. This is already harder than it has to be.”. How sick, the king making a woman execute other women. You looked into her eyes, knowing they’d be the last thing you ever saw. She was beautiful beyond measure, fair skin, full lips and large green eyes stared back at you. The woman is frozen in place, never having had a stand off with a person she was about to execute. You lean down, the blood of the innocent girl tickled your cheek. Closing your eyes you inhale the scent of rust and mud. Taking a deep breath you wait for your execution, unwavering.
It never comes, a loud explosion shakes town square. You’re thrown from the chopping block, landing on the hard dirt. Screams erupt and you feel feet trample over you. A large man steps right on the hand balancing you, causing you to scream out in pain. You coddle your sore fingers like a cat licking its wounds. You crawl under the wooden structure used as a stage. Hiding from the crowd who were willingly going to chop your head off moments earlier. You look up between the cracks and see the red head woman scanning the crowd, searching for you. “Tell the kings guard she’s gone. The explosion gave her cover for escape.” She whispers to a man in all metal armor.
The crowd has finally dispersed and all you can hear is the dripping of blood, the woman’s deep sighs as she paces the platform above you. You’re too scared to make a sound, knowing your cover could be blown at any moment. You feel a tickle at the edge of your hairline, you quickly swipe at what’s bothering you. A spider crawls up your hand causing you to wince, shaking it off. Your eyes dart upward, in hopes she didn’t notice. Except you can’t see her anywhere between the cracks. You lean forward to get a better advantage point and still, the platform is void of any person. Sitting back down on your feet you take a deep breath, maybe you’re finally in the clear.
A blade is pressed to your neck before you can exhale. A hand snakes its way around your waist, traveling upward along your front, securing your arm and neck in a tight lock. “Thought you could escape?” She breathes in your ear. Your heartbeat fastens, “Please, you don’t understand, I’m innocent. I’ve done nothing wrong.” You plead as she tightens her grip on you. “That’s what they all say. But not everyone was found gathered under a full moon, whispering about a kings downfall.” You furrow your brow, full moon? You’d never gathered with anyone under a full moon, you were no witch.
She pushes you forward, your face hitting the ground, billowing up a cloud of dirt. “You’re mistaken miss, we met to discuss rations, create a plan on how to survive the winter, I would never knowingly gather under a full moon.” You wiggle as she straddles your ass, pushing against her as she shackles your hands behind your back. “I thought I was being executed for conspiracy not witchcraft.” You writhe more underneath her, grasping her wrist, you hold her there as you plead for her mercy. “Please, I am not what you think. I’ll go far away, you’ll never see or hear of me again. I’ll never return. I swear it upon the Lord.”
The woman stares at her wrist in your hand. Your words completely muffled to her. She looks at your rode up gown, lace garters around each of your legs. She pulls herself away, kneeling beside you. You start shaking in fear of what is to come next. She places a hand on the back of your thigh, slowly feeling her way to between your legs. “If you want me to let you go free, you’re going to have to earn it, witch.” The woman laughs to herself. You squeeze your eyes shut as you realize what she means. “What do you want from me?” You cry out. The woman flips you over onto your back, she leans down looking you right in the eye.
“Make it worth my while, and I’ll escort you to the city limits myself.” She smirked on top of you. You look into her eyes, she was too beautiful to be this wicked. Something happened to make her this way, you’d never know. Your survival instincts kicked in before you could protest. Pressing your lips to hers you eagerly run your tongue against her bottom lip. She takes the opportunity to feel your breast, massaging them behind thick dress linen. You pull away as a strange feeling builds inside of you, you’d never been with a woman so you didn’t think you’d get anything out of this. But the feeling of her hands on you, ignited a flame deep inside, causing a throb to wreck your clit.
“You like that?” She asks with hooded eyes, pinching your nipples in the process. You sharply gasp, the feeling of wetness pooling between your thighs. Your back arches off the ground as she slips her hand under your dress, the feeling of her hand on your bare skin, burning. She feels her way up to your right nipple, pinching it unbearably hard, you yelp. “Answer me, witch.” She says. “Yes, ms?”
“Natasha, not that it matters.”.
Natasha lifts herself to her knees, looking down at you, your dress pulled up, thrown over your shoulder as your chest is exposed. “So pathetic, begging to run away like that. So small underneath this thick fabric,” she places a finger on your navel, drawing a line down, running it between the folds surrounding your clit; stopping when the tip of her finger slips inside of you. “So wet, and I’ve barely touched you”.
You bite your lip so hard you taste blood, you couldn’t help it as she gently stroked her finger in and out of you. You raise your hips off the ground practically begging for more, “Please Natasha, I’ll do anything, just uncuff me.”. The red head throws her head back laughing while she adds another digit, going deeper than before “I don’t need to do that to get what I want.” You press your head into the ground as you adjust to her thick fingers, the burning stretch and the slow pace causing your legs to shake, a wet soothing feeling stopped the shaking as soon as it began, you looked down to see Natasha staring up at you, her tongue moving in slow circles around your clit. “Don’t stop.” You plead.
As if she was getting off on torturing you, she stopped instantly, pulling her hand from you. “I don’t want you getting the wrong idea,” Natasha says, pulling her black robe over her head. “This isn’t for your pleasure, it’s for mine.” She says, freeing the ties around her waist. Her undercoat falls down, exposing a hairless pussy. She throws one leg over your waist, diagonally straddling you. “I had to make you want it, no one wants to ride a sleeping bull.”. She spreads her lips, pressing herself into you, the feeling completely foreign, everything she’d done up till now, a man already had the privilege of doing before.
Natasha rolls her hips, perfectly gliding against your clit. It felt like a warm kiss, wet and desperate. You whine, wishing you could touch her, hold onto something for leverage. You couldn’t move as she fucked you, you’re completely helpless besides being able to wrap a leg around her waist. It did nothing to move you, it only made her grind harder against you.
A strangled moan leaves your lips as she starts rocking against you with a new pace, it was gonna make you cum if she kept going. A rubber band inside of you was being stretched past its limit and was about to snap back. At this point you thought, she has to be reading your mind. She slowed down, throwing her head back as she barely lifted herself, just to slam herself back down. She did this over and over again till you were sore, you needed release.
Natasha wasn’t thinking about your release as she crawled up your body, sitting on your chest. “If you make me feel real, real good. I’ll even get you to the next town, deal?” You nod your head before thinking. She quickly grabs a handful of your hair, “What did I say? Speak when spoken to, witch.” “Deal.”
She strokes your face, admiring your features before she makes a mess of them. Soft eyes search hers for answers, but nothing would prepare you for how gentle she was. Natasha lifted her hips, ghosting her center past your lips, causing you to crane your neck to reach for her. She was practically dripping into your mouth as you reached your tongue to take a practice swipe. She was so soft, like rose petals that tasted like ‘more’; you wanted more.
You tilt your chin forward latching your lips around her core, creating a suction while your rolled her clit around the tip of your tongue. “Fuck yes, keep doing that.” Natasha praises you from above. She miraculously keeps herself still, not abusing your face like she did your bottom half. You liked the way she sounded, light and raspy, searching for a breath. It kept you going while you explored her every inch. You lapped up wetness as it dripped from her hole, rimming the hole with the tip of your tongue.
Her body reacted the best to your flat tongue, licking long thick stripes over her clit. It made Natasha jerk her body forward, causing your nose to stimulate her even more. “You’re doing so good baby, just a little longer.” You couldn’t help but use the praise as fuel to keep going. The sight of Natasha writhing in pleasure makes you needy. You feverishly rub her clit as you breathe hot breath onto her.
Natasha grips your hair as she finally takes hold of the situation, she grinds her hips down, fully pressing herself on your tongue. You can’t keep up as she tries to climax. Her hips going at a pace your jaw isn’t accustomed to. You close your eyes as you feel her jerk forward, slowing herself down, she writhes on your face.
You gasp for air as she stands, throwing her robe back over her head. You lift yourself to your knees, letting gravity pull your dress down. You do nothing but await your release from the chains that bind you. You did what she asked, you just wanted to be freed, you needed no escort to the edge of town or the next village. “Please, uncuff me now, Natasha?” She gave you a pitiful look as she tied the straps to her undergarments.
“Oh honey, did you really think I was gonna let you go free?” She walked towards you, bending over to match your eye line. “You’re dead as far as the king knows, a crowd never lets a criminal get away. You just got lucky with the explosion.” Confusion clouded your brain, what was she going to do, if not turn you in? “What?” You say, knowing whatever she had in mind was better than execution.
“You’re coming home with me, witch.”
#avengers fanfiction#natasha x reader#natasha romanoff#nat x reader#mcu#natasha romanov#natalia romanova#natasha x you#black widow#avengers#x reader#black widow x reader#renaissance au#executioner#natasha romanoff is a lesbian
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🟨 Appearance Creator Mod Infos Dump
With the release of ACM (Appearance Creator Mod) I wanted to dump some information that might be useful, especially for non-modders that want to play around with it!
(I had no involvement with the making of this mod at all, nor I have any tie with AMM development, just throwing my two cents as a regular user, player and modder)
You'll find some How To, Tutos and other useful heads-up under read more, if you plan on using this mod as a modding tool (sketching up outfits ideas before modding them as custom appearance for your blorbo for example) or simply want to play blorbo dress up!
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First, You might want to get familiar with these suffix, as you will need to identify what part of a character's outfit you wanna swap
▶ Garments Components Names
h0 - Character's head mesh
he - Eyes mesh
heb - Eyebrows mesh
ht - Teeth mesh
hx - Head's details meshes (pimples, makeup...)
hh - Hair mesh
t0 - Character's Body mesh
t1 - Torso Inner Garment (T-shirt, Tank top...)
t2 - Torso Outer Garment (Vest, Jacket, Hood...)
a0 - Character's Arms mesh (Cyberarms...)
l1 - Legs Garment (Pants...)
s1 - Feet Garment (Shoes, Socks...)
i1 - Accessory / Item Garment (Cyberware, Belt, Necklace...)
▶ Garments Rigs Names
ma - Man Average
mb - Man Big
mc - Man Child
mf - Man Fat
mm - Man Massive
wa - Woman Average
waf - Woman Average Fat
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⚠ It's important to note that Garments are NOT automatically refited to the character! You can use a WA garment on a Male NPC but it won't magically fit his shape
⚠ Johnny and Kerry, despite using the MA rig, both have a thinner bodies and most of the garment will float and appear larger on them
⚠ A lot of Garments have their own RIGs and physics, and might T-pose / break upon being swapped on your NPC of choice! For this reason, Hair with physics will automatically break as well
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AMC is a standalone window in game, and not included in AMM main window!
After spawning a NPC, the AMC window should fill up with the spawned entity's garment components (and yes it can get crowded really quick, especially on smaller monitors and resolution)
Yes, It also works on NPVs and NPC+! 🔥
Everything on these windows can be overwhelming especially if you're not familiar with modding, so I'll throw a little example here using Scorpion
First I want to get rid of his hood and vest, without using AMM's custom appearance, using only ACM
In the list, I look for his Vest and his Hood component
We can easily turn them invisible by clicking the "Toggle" button
Make sure to also disable any decals, stickers, and additional component (his vest also has a decal component, see in the screenshot)
The little icon next to a component's name indicate it has been edited in some way
I'll now switch his tank top for something else
Click on "Select From List" next to the "Mesh Path" of the desired component (in Scorpion's case, t1_060_ma_tank__corset)
Open up the "Torso" list, and you'll be able to click on any of the listed t1 and t2 garments!
⚠ As mentioned above, garments doesn't magically refits on characters; Scorpion use the Man Average body and rig, anything that isn't a "ma" garment won't fit him correctly!
⚠ Another thing to be aware of is that a lot of garments's might break around the collar area! However if you plan on using this same mesh in an outfit, don't let that scare you, as it's easily fixable in blender
Export your desired mesh and look for the "NeckCollar_JNT" bone and simply rename it to "Neck" (blender will put some numbers next to it but that's fine, ignore that)
I'm going to switch to Valentin here to showcase how to deal with potential clipping 🤏 Since Valentin's body is customized, bit chubbier, he always needs refiting
Let's say you swapped your character's top for something else but part of his torso clips out
To put my boys titas away, I'll look for his body component (t0)
Click on "Chunk Mask" to open the garment's submeshes list
Garment's meshes are broken down in multiple submeshes that can be easily chunkmasked (disabled) at will to deal with clipping! This is why NPC usually don't even have a full body mesh when taking off their clothes, they are chunkmasked to avoid clipping :D
I will disable the Submesh 1 by unchecking the "1" box
Don't be afraid to click on multiple box and see what gets chunkmasked on different meshes! You won't break anything 👌
aaand for now that's about all I can think of that might be confusing for users- tho if you have question don't hesitate to ask on this post, to reblog or to come into DMs!
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Hood Cover SMS Suppliers, Wholesaler, Dealers, Exporters
Call Us : 9931607545, We are a prominent hood cover SMS Suppliers that is covered with hood. It comes with surged and over taped seams. There is elastic thumb loops, ankles and face, elastic wrists that do not allow any water or liquid. The product is used with various types of surgical operations and also in medical, non medical needs. It is used with various purposes with flawless finish, high reliability and optimum strength.
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THE MISSING SIMS FROM 1 and 4 (Custom Stealth Hood)
This has been a long time in the works. @profesionalpartyguest has probably stopped talking to me over it; @justwierzba has probably forgotten about it (and me); and @knut-rocketman has probably stopped caring about it, if they ever did.
This is a custom Stealth hood, with some townies, and a lot of ancestors, containing sims from The Sims, and The Sims 4. It also has lots for 7/9 families, including the families which you care about the most. For myself I call it Caldera Lessaules.
Continued below the cut:
From Neighborhood 1 we have the Roomies (bless their sapphic souls). From Old Town we have Claire Charming, and the Hicks. We also have the Snooty Patooties, because they’re iconic and someone had a headcanon.
From The Sims 4 we introduce 3 families from my Willow Creek - Pancakes, BFFs, and Spencer-Kim-Lewis - including the all important Lydia Spencer (she’s a townie). Also say hi to the Sims 4 Roomies (the New Girl spoofs), the only original family in Oasis Springs (unless you count Johnny Zest, but he’s all tied up with the Landgraabs). We also have the Harris family from Eco Living Newcrest Harbour whatever that pack and town are called.
But don’t just think I’ve left you with families with nowhere to live, there's lots too!
The Pancakes, BFFs, SKLs, and Sims 4 Roomies have the strict recreations-within-limitations - without CC - you know and love from Willow Creek. The Cacti Casa is a new recreation for this hood, the others are cleaned exports from Willow Creek.
For the Sim Lane Roomies, say hello to my labour of love ✨inspired✨ recreation of 10 Sim Lane. It has Foundations! The floor and wall coverings are close calls to the original. Claire Charming and the Hicks have their houses also recreated with Foundations. I found all three Sims 1 recreations really fun to build, and I love how their energies have translated across, especially for the Hicks’ Trailer and 10 Sim Lane. There is also an additional variant of Claire’s House I made for personal reasons.
The Snooty Patooties and the Harris family’s houses haven't been recreated - the latter because I don’t actually own the EP, the former because I would have to base it off of Marka93’s as I have no clue how to get the Downloadable Sims into my Sims 1 game. Besides, they’re added extras, just slip them into your Main Hood, Viper Canyon, Downtown, Bin Lots, it's up to your imagination! Feel free to export the lots and plop them in your main hoods, or just delete the subhood, its fine, I guess…
I hope you enjoy this labour of hate and love. Its an essential ingredient in my own Uberhoods. I genuinely miss these sims - especially the Sims 1 ones - so much in my games otherwise.
Special Thanks :
This version of “Caldera Lessaules” is officially a testing version, however nothing core is expected to change. That said, make a backup before adding it to your game. I am not responsible if your savefile becomes a BFBVFS and you don't have a backup. I may decide to add or tweak things in the hood, like ancestors, additional townies, etc, or roll-out fixes if people find errors which I haven’t picked up, but please do not hold off downloading if this is something which you'd think you'd love!
The creators mentioned in the first paragraph made most of the ancestors between them. ProfesionalPartyGuest also made the Harrises. Without them my hood would be ancestorless, which depending on if you care about Character File Count, is a good or a bad thing.
Download from (MEDIAFIRE) (SFS wouldn't work)
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