#it is and im worried about writing it

[st-danger]

What's the most depraved thing you think that Aether fantasises about?

Aether loves Dew, of course. He'll fuck him just as often as he'll make love to him- that's what it is, of course, though Dew never wants to acknowledge it as such. Something about the phrase making love makes him feel a little weird, though he openly voices how much he enjoys it when Aether takes it slow and tender with him.

He loves Dew. Very much. And privately, he would like to love him without any...interference.

Any reaction.

Sometimes in the shower when he gets a hand on himself, he lets his thoughts drift to something a little nasty. A little gross. Forcing a little quintessence into Dew's pretty head and pulling out any thoughts.

Any desire to move.

Maybe he keeps Dew nice and placid so he can lay him out before him, touch and inspect every inch in ways Dew would never let him without the forced sedation relaxation, because he wants to truly inspect, with attention so focused it makes Dew terribly uncomfortable to be looked at like that for so long. And maybe Dew's mind is still a little with it.

Maybe Dew looks up at him with round, confused eyes and asks Aether why he feels weird, and maybe Aether strokes his cheek and tells him just to relax.

Maybe Dew whimpers when Aether spreads him open, and tells Aether not there when his hole is exposed and he feels Aether's hot breath on it. Maybe he quivers and says he feels weird again, says Aether's name so plaintively.

And maybe Aether hushes him, soft and loving, and tells him he knows what Dew needs, so he's just going to help him relax. Good thing he's here, right? Since he knows what's best for Dew, even when Dew doesn't himself.

Aether is going to take such loving care. He promises him, and follows it up with a long, slow slide of his tongue over a place that makes Dew want to curl up from shame. Would if he could, but his limbs just feels so heavy right now.

Good thing Aether is here to help.

[bigender2]

all blonde men deserve to be put through an evil maze against an evil spectre of themselves who sows deep worries and thoughts about themselves

[aroaceleovaldez]

reminder that the only reason the "ADHD is actually demigod BATTLE STRATEGIES" and "dyslexia is DEMIGOD BRAINS HARDWIRED FOR ANCIENT GREEK" things exist in the PJO universe is because it's a very direct reference to early 2000s teaching/parenting techniques for neurodiverse and disabled children, which aimed to frame childrens' disabilities and hardships as a "superpower" or strength so that the children would feel more positively about their disabilities or situations. This technique has fallen out of favor since then for the most part since more often than not it just results in kids feeling as though their struggles are not being seen or taken seriously.

Yes, demigods are adhd/dyslexic (and sometimes autistic-coded) in the series. This is extremely important and trying to remove it or not acknowledge it makes the entire series fall apart because it is such a core concept. Yes, canon claims that their adhd/dyslexia is tied to some innate abilities, which is based on an outdated methodology. It's important to acknowledge that and understand where it comes from! But please stop trying to apply it to other pantheons in the series like "oh, the romans have dyscalculia because of roman numerals!" or "the norse demigods have dysgraphia for reasons!" - it's distasteful at best.

A better option is to acknowledge the meta inspiration for why that exists in the series, such as explaining potentially that Chiron was utilizing that same teaching methodology to try and help demigods feel more comfortable with their disabilities and they aren't literal powers. In fact, especially given Frank, there's implication that being adhd/dyslexic isn't a guaranteed demigod trait, which means it's more likely to be normally inherited from their godly parent/divine ancestor as a general trait, not a power, and further supports the whole "ADHD is battle strategy" thing being non-literal. It also implies the entire greco-roman pantheon in their universe is canonically adhd/dyslexic - and that actually fits very well with the themes of the first series. The entire central conflict of the first series fits perfectly as an allegory about neurodiverse/disabled children and their relationships with their undiagnosed neurodiverse/disabled parents and trying to find solutions together with their shared disability/disabilities that the kid inherited instead of becoming distant from each other (and this makes claiming equivalent to getting a diagnosis which is a fascinating allegory! not to mention the symbolism of demigods inheriting legacies and legends and powers from their parents and everything that comes with that being equivalent to inheriting traits, neurodiversity, and disabilities from your parents).

anyways neurodiversity and disability and the contexts in which the series utilizes representation of those experiences particularly during the 2000s symbolically within the narrative is incredibly important to the first series and the understanding of what themes it means to represent. also if i see one more "the romans have dyscalculia instead of dyslexia" post in 2023 i'm gonna walk into the ocean.

[howaitot]

I'm only at chapter 30 but like... this will happen, right?

[grimesgirll]

you'd been begging daryl to take you hunting.

"why don't you take her?" rick implored. "she's not a bad shot."

"we'd be bowhunting, not rifle hunting." daryl distinguishes with a grunt.

"i can learn," you assure him, holding your compound bow in your hands. "technically, i've been shooting since i was seven."

"once a summer for fifteen minutes while peddling cookies," he states.

"c'mon, she learned a lot at camp." rick rebuts, grinning at you. "right, doll, didn't you learn how to build a fire and purify water?" you nod. "none of us have frozen to death or gotten diphtheria yet, so i'd say you should at least give her archery skills a chance."

"please?" you borderline beg, breath hitching as you see your morning not going how you planned. "i really wanna learn to track."

daryl doesn't say anything, just looks from you to the bow in your hand. rick interrupts whatever thoughts he has with a sigh. "daryl, why don't ya just take her? she clearly wants to go with you." he gestures to you. "how can you say no to her when she's asking so nicely? unless you think it's too hairy for her out there and we should just spend the day tucked inside here."

you whine at the idea. you want to be outside.

that spurs daryl into saying a rushed, "grab your heavy coat and your arrows."

you grin at rick who despite assisting in your victory, looks disappointed that you'll be gone for the day. while daryl is busy grabbing his crossbow, you slink over to rick, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“thanks,” you seal your gratitude with a kiss.

he wraps a firm arm around you. "you're welcome, sweetheart," your leader punctuates with a hand dug in your hair while he brings your face to his. you almost don't notice daryl until he's huffing by the doorway and you're kissing rick goodbye one last time and scrambling to grab your bow before dashing out the door after your boyfriend.

gone from alexandria, you and daryl take off on foot towards what he’d described as the best hunting grounds in the nearest fifty miles.

"be sure to quiet down," daryl tells you, abstaining from cringing as your boots crunch every leaf on the forest floor beneath them.

"sorry," you giggle. you try to quell your footsteps but it's hard when you're so captivated by the beauty of the woods.

before everything happened with the dead walking, you loved being outside. growing up in scouts and regularly camping had turned you into someone who was all too reckless outside for their knowledge of the woods. yes, you knew that predators and walkers lurked around every corner out here but you just want to crane your neck and stare at the sky through the trees, or let your eyes wander over the meandering streams.

that's why daryl is watching you like a hawk.

years of tracking has made him hip to everything going on around him. truth be told, if anyone or anything were on your trail, you were a dead giveaway. stomping about the way you are, you're bound to scare off any small game but he's trying to be patient with you. it's not like you had to keep it down at your hippie dippie kumbaya girl scout camp or on sunlit afternoon hikes. daryl, on the other hand, moved about undetected like it was second nature. had to be quiet if you wanted to actually to leave the forest with a meal.

he's watching you and the woods just to be safe. it's hard not getting distracted by you the way you're getting all caught up in the trees and the vivid greenery surrounding you.

the sight of you; pink lips parted just slightly with your head tipped all the way back to look for bird nests have his jeans getting cramped. you're just so excited to be outside.

it's not like you don't go on walks every day in alexandria with judith or join them on occasional outings beyond the walls. there's just not as much room for you to leave with how dangerous even just scavenging is turning out to be, so it's harder to get you out for a remote nature walk.

"what're we tracking for?" you ask.

daryl pushes a branch out of the way, holding it back as you pass under before catching up. "whatever you don't scare away with all that noise."

you snort. "so no deer?"

the redneck laughs. "not with the way you're tramping through here."

"what about pheasants?" you question, tiptoeing over a particularly rocky section of daryl's trail. "or do we need dogs to find them?"

"you don't need no damn dog to hunt pheasants."

"a decoy?"

"you just gotta' be patient." he clicks his tongue. "but it's not like you'd know anything about that." you let out a small whine and his breath hitches.

"just askin'."

"i know, girl."

"so what're you shooting for?"

daryl shrugs. "think' we can probably find something further up the ridge. rabbit, squirrel, something 'for you to aim at."

you nod and knock an arrow. following your boyfriend as he takes you past one of his favorite creeks outside of alexandria, leading the way as you pad along on the forest floor behind him.

your shotgun is slung on your back in its strap, understudying the compound bow you’d dug out of the armory. there were many fewer bow users in the apocalypse than there should’ve been. for every bow hunter, there were fifteen idiots blowing off the head of whatever or whoever they encountered with some barely functional, scavenged handgun. maintaining the skill and the arrows for a bow wasn't necessarily for the lazy.

you really didn't have much experience with archery or hunting for that matter. rick joked that you were a duck hunter but that had been dumb luck. while scavenging for gas along a riverside park, you'd seen some geese and fired your shotgun. rick couldn't be upset about the noise when your impulsive assault on the waterfowl was what filled your stomachs that night. and as a reward, rick filled you up just the way you liked it that night.

you'd go out firing on random flocks of geese more if it meant rick would fuck you the way he did that night. you were losing your mind - putty in his hands - from all the praise. his good girl who shot their dinner. marking every thrust with more praise.

the naughty bundle of nerves between your legs awakens at the thought of receiving the same treatment from daryl. he didn't love spanking your ass red or doling out punishments like rick, but you wanted to see his face after you caught something. after you shoot a deer with your bow. he would be so proud of you, giving you a celebratory kiss before helping you field dress your harvest.

whatever route daryl is following takes on an impressive incline, giving way to a fragmented vista of the tiny green valley. you wish you had binoculars. once your eyes stop scanning the sky for hawks, an auburn mess of hair catches your eye. even through his black windbreaker, you can see the outline of his muscles along his back. his form and thoughts of him taking you up against a tree cloud your brain until you hear your name.

"yeah," you answer, looking up at daryl who's stopped to pause below a short, dense pine. he motions for you to squat with him and you do, settling into a perched position with your loaded bow sat on your knees.

“right here is the perfect pass along the ridge to come up and over the mountain,” daryl explains, blue eyes catching a bit of sunlight. “a bunch of game will be scampering around as the day goes on. won’t see any deer right before noon though. not that they’d wanna walk up here with your loud ass.”

you snicker before sending him an apologetic look. “sorry, dare’. i’m not used to being quiet like that.”

i know, baby, he wants to say but just points to your knocked arrow. “wanna have that ready. never know when a squirrel’ll come skippin’ by.”

“yes, sir,” you croon, smirking at the way his eyes darken and he playfully ruffles your hair.

settling into a cozy state of surveillance, your eyes start to droop. rick had kept you up after daryl went to bed. this was before you woke up with the urge to accompany daryl on his hunt, so you probably only got four or five hours of sleep. typical rick keeping you up with sweet temptations like his hands on your breasts, his warm mouth on your torso, licking down to your clit and reigniting that fire that’s consumed your core earlier in the night.

you start to feel it stirring when your mind wanders to the man sitting beside you. you smile sweetly at him when he catches your gaze and ask an innocent question about pheasant hunting again that breaks the silence.

then you’re relaying the story about the time your cousin fell out of his tree stand after one too many beers.

daryl guffaws. “that’s some’ shit merle would do.”

"yeah, it was pretty stupid of him."

the quiet returns. you sigh. the silence meant to lull the local game into a false sense of security is boring you. you came out here for some one on one time with daryl and to learn to track, not to sit in silence in the cold for god knows how long.

you close the distance between you and daryl. tucking yourself into his side, you earn a look from him. "i'm cold," you commiserate.

the archer has to look away from your doe eyes to keep his zipper from popping. he mentally debates pulling you closer until he gives in and tugs you to his chest, ruining your position holding your bow.

both of you know you’re eventually going to do what you do best in the cold; get distracted by warming each other up. it’s evident from how you sink back further against daryl. nonchalant even when you feel his hardness against your ass.

“feeling warmer,” you update him.

“good,” he murmurs when you press your head back to his chest. you feel warmer; despite your layers, daryl has gotten your core going enough for you to feel it from head to toe.

you imagine a wave of pleasure, not just flickering body heat as you turn around and face his groin on your knees.

“not out here,” he mutters with a gasp of your name. his belt falls and your hands start on his zipper, progressing the metal zip all the way down until a sturdy hand grabs yours. “don’t you wanna catch something?” he reminds you of the reason you even trekked up here.

you shake your head yes.

“then what’s this all about?”

you roll your eyes. “dare’, I’m bored!”

“i told you that half’a hunting is waitin’!” daryl chides, pushing your hands down.

tears well in your eyes. the older man exhales; he’s fucked.

“dare’-,”

“don’t you start.” he tells you, grasping your chin in his hand and leaning down to kiss you. you tilt upwards eagerly into the kiss from the pine needle littered ground. “you’re gonna scare anything left up here.”

daryl disconnects from you when your bow is lowered to the ground. his thumb slips into your mouth and without hesitation, you treat his thumb to the same treatment he’d gotten last night.

it’s not long before he’s finally saying, “fuck it!” declaring out loud what you’ve been yearning for the entire morning.

with another smirk, you strip him of his pants until he’s popping out of his boxers. your mouth is on him an instant - it’s cold after all. first thing, you envelope him in your mouth, pulsing downstairs again when his hands find warmth in your hair. you don’t need him to guide your head down to the base of your cock for you to take him into your throat.

the black shotgun you’d proudly toted - even after it’d been confiscated at terminus - is deposited hap-hazardously on the ground while your bow is on the other side of your legs. daryl’s ditched his crossbow at this point, opting to explore the far reaches of your throat with his cock while the bow stands against the other side of the tree.

your boyfriend’s breath hitches again. you overfill as much of his cock as you can into your mouth until you slide yourself up and off, taking a break to catch your breath.

fucked out and face flush in spite of the cold, daryl is pleasantly surprised when you dive down to pay his balls some serious attention. you loll each one into your mouth, leisurely progressing up his length with gentle licks until you’re gingerly kissing the head, locking eyes with him.

disregarding the chill beneath your knees, you dip your mouth down on him again, licking a new trail up his rock hard cock. thinking about how painful it must be in this cold, you give into him when he thrusts into your mouth.

hands in your hair, daryl is in heaven. getting head under the trees? sign him the fuck up. you two have fooled around outside before of course but that wasn't usually by choice. without having to worry about a horde of walkers hot on your trail or horrors like cannibals hunting you, he could lean back and just enjoy the sight of you between his legs, swirling your tongue around the head of his cock.

for a moment, he worries that the sounds you make as you swallow his length will attract walkers but he's too hard to care. you bob up and down, trying to take more of him each time. his hands guide you until he's bucking in your mouth and feel him spill down your throat.

daryl's gonna have to take you hunting more often.

[trixree]

The brain worms are ON ONE tonight folks I am thinking about Cody/Maul/Obi-Wan post order 66 living on tattooine together

like what if Maul sought out Obi-Wan's Commander shortly after O66 to get obsessive freaky closure about how Obes died (feels robbed of the kill, generally mentally ill about it, etc.) and is like "he is useless to me with all this fucking Imperial programing in the way" and does Force Stuff to break Cody's chip and what if Cody Wakes Up and goes "I can use this fucked up little guy to get to my General, who I believe survived, and then I'll just kill him easy peasy and live happily ever after with my husband" so he tells Maul that Obi-Wan is probably alive, actually, and cue a really violent road trip of them retracing Obi-Wan's steps in the hours after O66 via Imperial intel and hyper competence on both of their parts and

OH NO WHAT IF THEY START TO FALL IN LOVE like the forced proximity of it all...LISTEN TO ME. the intimacy of fighting alongside someone and having a functional partnership that's turned Dependency on both of your part's because you were both Traumatized in surprisingly similar ways (raised as a tool of violence for someone else's purpose, same guy actually!) and also have a similar goal via your mutual obsession with this one guy and actually, he's not that bad for a sith/clone, and by the time they get wise to Luke's existence and gun it for Tatooine, Maul is like "if I kill Kenobi this is going to upset Cody. That is Unideal. Can i live with not killing Kenobi?" and Cody is like "I cannot kill him afterall, I like him too much, how the FUCK am I going to explain this to Obi let alone any of the mind control & sorry i tried to kill you shit"

and what if Obi-Wan kept Luke because Reasons and is just so goddamn thankful for some extra childcare help (Luke's in his terrible 2s and he's force sensitive -- Obi's more sleep deprived than he ever was during the clone wars) that he really doesn't give a shit at all that it's his ex that tried to kill him for some mystery reason and motherfucking Maul on his doorstep. help is help 🙏 and they bang and stuff of course okay I'm only human

[bigmammallama5]

Speaking of a previous fandom post I just shared: I have Not stepped away from fandom this fall, I’m just dealing with some health stuff and I’ve been pretty short on the energy I usually have. I’m doing okay and should be all the way better soon! But energy has been going to real job and pottery (which is also real gig job with taxable $ involved but pottery is the art form I have consistently fallen back on for comfort the past decade). I still have so much interest in unfinished fics and art I hope to return to in the new year. And I’m still hoping to noodle out some drawpiles with @sango-blep as my body and energy level allow. But yeah, still here just working to keep my nose above the water.

[nat-20s]

I have already gushed about how much Shaun Temple loves and adores Donna Noble but I cannot emphasize enough that I am 100% certain she is JUST as wholly besotted with him!! I know in my heart they are like. An EMBARRASSINGLY lovey couple. I know Donna's like SHAUN!! HEY!!! and he's like YES HON?? and she's like. You have a cute butt :3. Hell it's probably WORSE now that her other special little guy is back and she's not trying to work around an open wound of inexplicable grief. Hope she has flex time at UNIT because she's been repeatedly late due to a impromptu 20 minute snogging session.

[beegswaz]

holy shit Scuffed atlas art? real???? you cant even See the top of the hat but Once i make a finalised Design itll look Kinda like the ones in the Images :3

[consistantly-changing]

Zestmilla kisses sketch dump! These old people have taken over my life

[muscariii]

I don't have much time to draw because of school but I managed to do some lazy drawings today.

I actually wanted to make something with colors and stuff but I just can't find any time to do that. At least this week since I have a lot of studying on my head right now. But maybe I'll manage to draw more on the weekend!!

So for now here's a usual Nerevar and Rasha thing :3

They're really fun to draw for me. I feel like I keep making both of their hair longer and longer so uh... Whoops :T

[sophsicle]

YALL i want u to read this chapter so bad. so immediately. it is WILD and there is no one for me to talk about it with but myself.

[filthytheodeckerkinnie]

you cannot convince me that jon and martin didn't kiss the night before the unknowing. i dont care

i know the truth

[plutoswritingplanet]

Fic Preview (Feyd-rautha Harkonnen x Female!Reader)

Summary: A continuation of "It's A Special Death You Saved". How many pieces of yourself can you give away, until there's nothing left of the life you've led before? Your new husband seems to be determined to answer that question, whether you're willing to participate or not.

a/n: heeeeeeey y'all... i bet you thought you've seen the last of me. here's a snippet from the first chapter from the last fail-marriage story im going to write. it will be slightly dark, slightly lore heavy, but i won't deprive y'all of smut either. oh, and also, the movies are cannon in my book lmao

-Welcome home, wife - he whispers into your ear, and you don't know how you manage to stop tears from springing in your eyes.

Not home. Never home. Your home had trees and oceans, and your Mother, your Father and your perfect Brother. Your home had Duncan, with his warm embrace and little scars littered all across his honey-colored skin. Your home had a sun that is warm and welcoming, that brings vibrancy to your life, and doesn't wash everything out, doesn't swallow all beauty.

The clothes you wear, the clothes he wants you to wear, are nothing like what you're used to. They make your body feel foreign, like an accessory more than your own flesh. You hate the feeling of the sheer fabric clinging to your skin, like some suffocating membrane. The heavy jewelry, which reminds you more and more of a slave's collar. He put it on you with his own hands. Delicately fitting it around your neck, caressing it with the calloused pads of his fingers, a proud expression decorating his sharp featured like a war medal.

You wonder what he sees, when he looks at you. Are your sentiments shared? Does he see you, as you see yourself, a doll dressed for his entertainment, a wife, should the politics require it? You're sure he does, there is no other way to describe the pitiful reflection in the mirror. Perhaps, in time, you might be able to fight back some semblance of dignity, to find a way of embracing these strange fabrics. Make this cold metal feel more like a necklace for a Baroness, rather than a collar for cattle. Perhaps.

[courtney-deserved-better]

telling myself i can't start another tdwt rewrite but dear god do i want to write one focusing on alejandro and courtney in this weird situationship thats a lot more nuanced than just alejandro manipulating courtney and her falling for it. like theyre best friends they dont trust each other theyre the same person they dont know anything about the other one theres a mutual attraction theyre pining for other people theyre codependent they dont care about each other theyre platonic soulmates like i just want to do a deep dive into how messy that relationship couldve been building off of their friendship that exists in my head except the line between romantic and platonic is so fucking blurred they have no idea what they are to the other person