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hayatheauthor · 8 months ago

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Caught in the Throat: A Writer’s Handbook on Choking (Non-Violent)

The act of choking is so over-sexualised I genuinely could not find any more 'normal' pictures to use so ignore the banner lol

Choking is one of those scenarios that can instantly elevate tension and drama in your writing. It’s a visceral experience, both for the character facing the threat and for the reader witnessing the struggle. In this guide, we'll explore the mechanics of choking, the physiological responses involved, how to write believable choking scenes, and common misconceptions to avoid.

1. Understanding Choking: The Basics

Choking occurs when an object obstructs the airway, preventing air from reaching the lungs. This can happen with food, small objects, or even vomit. Here are the two main types of choking:

Partial Obstruction: The airway is not completely blocked, and the person can still breathe, albeit with difficulty. They might cough, wheeze, or make high-pitched sounds.

Complete Obstruction: The airway is entirely blocked, leading to the inability to breathe, speak, or cough. This situation is life-threatening and requires immediate intervention.

2. The Physiology of Choking

To write a compelling choking scene, understanding the physiological response is crucial. Here’s what happens in the body during choking:

Immediate Reactions

Panic Response: When choking occurs, the body's immediate response is panic. The character may instinctively grasp at their throat, eyes wide with fear, or try to cough to clear the obstruction.

Increased Heart Rate: The heart races as adrenaline floods the system. This physiological reaction prepares the body for a fight-or-flight response.

Physical Symptoms

Coughing: A natural reaction to a partial obstruction, this can be loud and desperate. The character may attempt to clear their throat while making frantic gestures.

Color Changes: A person choking may turn red in the face as they struggle for air and may eventually turn blue (cyanosis) due to lack of oxygen.

Loss of Consciousness: In cases of complete obstruction, unconsciousness can occur within minutes due to lack of oxygen to the brain.

3. Writing Choking Scenes: Key Elements

When writing about choking, consider these elements to create a vivid and believable scene:

Setting the Scene

Build Up Tension: Introduce elements that lead to choking, such as a hurried meal or a character talking while eating. This sets the stage for the choking incident.

Sensory Details: Engage your reader’s senses. Describe the sound of a sudden gasp, the character's frantic movements, and the panic in their eyes.

Character Reactions

Realistic Responses: Show the character's physical and emotional turmoil. Are they flailing for help? Are they frozen in fear? Their reaction will depend on their personality and previous experiences.

Dialogue: If the choking occurs in a dialogue-heavy scene, consider how communication breaks down. Words become garbled, and panic sets in, leading to frantic pleas for help or confused shouts from bystanders.

4. The Rescue: Interventions and Techniques

In many stories, the choking scene will lead to a rescue. It's important to depict this accurately.

Heimlich Maneuver

Description: The Heimlich maneuver involves standing behind the choking person, placing your arms around their waist, and performing thrusts inward and upward to expel the obstruction.

Effectiveness: Explain that this is often a last-ditch effort. The character must be calm and composed to perform this correctly. A panicked rescuer can make the situation worse.

Call for Help

Emergency Response: If the choking person loses consciousness, it becomes crucial to call for emergency services. Highlight the urgency of the situation, as every second counts.

Character Dynamics: Explore the relationships between characters during this crisis. A close friend or family member may react differently than a stranger would.

5. Aftermath: Consequences of Choking

After a choking incident, there will likely be physical and emotional consequences:

Physical Recovery

Injury to the Airway: Choking can cause bruising or damage to the throat and airways, which may result in difficulty swallowing or talking in the days following the incident.

Potential for PTSD: Depending on the severity of the experience, a character may develop anxiety around eating or a fear of choking again.

Character Development

Bonding Experience: Surviving a choking incident can bring characters closer together, creating a moment of shared trauma that deepens their relationships.

Change in Perspective: A near-death experience may lead a character to reevaluate their priorities or behavior, adding depth to their arc.

6. Common Misconceptions About Choking

When writing about choking, it's essential to avoid common misconceptions that can undermine realism:

Myth 1: Choking Always Looks Dramatic

In fiction, choking scenes can often be exaggerated for effect. In reality, choking can be subtle, especially if the obstruction is partial. Characters may appear slightly distressed before panic fully sets in.

Myth 2: People Can Talk or Scream While Choking

While they might make gasping sounds or attempt to communicate, a person experiencing a complete airway obstruction cannot speak or yell.

Myth 3: The Heimlich is Always Effective

While the Heimlich maneuver can be life-saving, it's not always effective, especially in certain medical conditions. It’s crucial to depict choking with a realistic understanding of its complexities.

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks?

Looking for writing tips and tricks to better your manuscript? Check out the rest of Quillology with Haya; a blog dedicated to writing and publishing tips for authors! Instagram Tiktok

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derinthescarletpescatarian · 3 months ago

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Hi, Derin!

I just want to thank you so much for helping me start reading again. Depression has made it really difficult for me to enjoy reading for several years, but I picked up a paperback copy of TTO:U recently—four hours and 300 pages later, I have remembered why I love reading so much. Your descriptive language is vivid and visceral, and your dialogue flows super naturally. I also LOVE the cultural details sprinkled throughout—the differing customs, taboos, and identities are so fun to figure out.

In conclusion, contrary to what most people have to say,

FUCK YEAH, DERIN!

I'm so glad to hear you're reading again! Good work, and good luck!

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helle-bored · 3 months ago

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A non-exhaustive list of weilan fics I’ve loved, for a truly diverse variety of reasons, in no particular order!

List 2

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State of Matter by naye (~13k, T)

I am a simple soul who loves a) Shen Wei whump and b) hurt/comfort and c) hypothermia/huddling for warmth tropes and d) survival stories where characters get out of pants-shittingly bad situations via putting one foot in front of the other for way longer than they want to be doing that. This is a great fic for all of those things.

–

All-Consuming by ratbones (~119k, E)

Zombie AU! Everything about this fic is exquisite – the pacing, dialogue, descriptions, characterization – everything. Having already loved both the novel and drama versions of Zhao Yunlan and Shen Wei before reading this, I think this fic is my favorite version of them. Also, I know a bunch of us like to good-naturedly poke fun at how baby!Shen Wei’s crush plays out in the drama, but this is a fic that absolutely sells the idea that Shen Wei would fall in love with Zhao Yunlan in basically one night. Fuck, I’d love him too! I kind of do! Feels like watching a very good zombie movie. Has A+ humor, interesting science, a wrenching penultimate chapter. Please read this and come yell at me about it! You can read it fandom-blind.

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The Unexpected Legacy by FayJay (~84k, E)

Regency AU! Gorgeously written. One of the most scorching, horniest weilan fics I’ve read in terms of pent-up yearning, and that is a full compliment. I’m also a big fan of the climactic confrontation, which shows how much Zhao Yunlan cares about Shen Wei in a pretty visceral and unpleasant, typical fairytale way, something I enjoy because I am a sadist for that kind of horrifying devotion. One of my favorite Ye Zuns – he’s such a fantastic, complex, loveable brat. No twincest in the main fic, but if that’s your flavor you can also check out the sequels.

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Not All Those Who Wander by Xparrot (~23k, T)

This one is a bit hard to describe. It’s like a… post-apocalyptic fairytale AU fix-it?, and the writing is beautiful. I love how it plays with the novel versions of Kunlun and a young Shen Wei. Kind of desolate and bittersweet, but hopeful too.

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Day After Day | 日复一日 by hideyseek (~24k, T)

What do you say about a fic where the middle-aged original characters are still in your mind months later? Great timeloop casefic with a slowly unwinding mystery.

–

Ghost Story by clevermanka (~90k, E)

Haunted house AU! I’m kind of a baby about haunted house stuff, and some parts of it toe the line of being too creepy for me – the slowly building malevolence has great atmosphere and is genuinely unpleasant in parts. Also really enjoyed the bizarre, earnest, kinky ghost sex, which by all accounts really shouldn’t work as well as it does. (Enthusiasm goes a long way when one of you is a ghost.) Has a proper gothic story arc that’s fitting for the fic as a whole. Also features a fantastic Zhu Hong who is saddled with way more bullshit than she deserves. I think about this fic a lot; it has a really strong sense of presence.

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Rapture by ratbones (~104k, M)

Cyberpunk AU! ratbones does it AGAIN with this fic. damn. This one feels a little less serious than All-Consuming and moves along at a faster pace that suits the glittering cyberpunk theme, but it still manages to cram in body horror and existential angst and just a lot of really lovely ways of looking at what it means to be human, without any of it ever dragging down the plot. I read it all on a 6-hour flight and may or may not have teared up over a robot – not that anything’s new about me crying about robots, but all the robots I’ve ever cried over have also been people, and so is Kunlun. Anyway. This is a fun romp that will probably NOT make anyone cry except for me, and it is another fic with an excellent Ye Zun.

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Better, Safe (~5k, E) and Whipped (~3k, E) by clevermanka

I’m listing these together because they go together in my head – clevermanka has a handful of lovely short fics that are either outright kink or kink-leaning, and these two are my faves. I love reading stuff that digs into the easy give and take between the boys as they’re passing the baton of who’s in control back and forth, and what control looks like for both of them, and what ceding it looks like, and how they enjoy each other’s differences, and how courteous and careful they are with each other without it being awkward, like it’s just a built-in part of sex for them. Joyful and hot.

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Spiders Crawling by tinypinkmouse (~38k, E)

…Spider… AU... Look. Shen Wei is spiders. I have to include this because I have never ever in my life read anything else where the main love interest is spiders, and the mental image of Shen Wei getting so flustered about questions he doesn’t want to answer that he just spontaneously bursts into spiders feels perfectly in-character (and also weirdly adorable). I would not be able to stand this in real life, but Zhao Yunlan has a remarkable ability (canonical) to be cheerfully into some weird shit. Worth clicking on for the what-the-fuck factor, and then reading because you get unironically sucked into the concept of Shen Wei being spiders.

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The Coherence of Light by Xparrot (~3k, E)

Sometimes (all the time) I just want to read porn that's hot and funny and in-character. I could happily read a hundred fics just like this.

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Scorched Earth, Deep Ocean by margrave (~35k, E)

Omegaverse palace drama AU! Emperor Kunlun, secretly an omega, performs a series of political maneuvers to cement his position as an omega Emperor – as well as to recognize his new concubine Shen Wei, former general of the enemy kingdom of Dixing and war prize given away by the Dixing Emperor during peace negotiations, as a consort accepted by the court and father of any future legitimate heirs to the throne. I was pleasantly surprised at how much fun I had reading this one, considering the action primarily focuses around court politics. Bonus: Zhu Hong is GREAT. Absolutely love her.

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unmoored by nanimono_da (~43k, M)

Post-canon fix-it! If you want something that dives really really deeply into the bodily experience of living through heavy grief, I actually think this does an uncomfortably good job of showing what that can be like. Reading it feels like treading water in the ocean when it’s raining and you can’t see the shore. Cathartic; draining. HURT/comfort. Has a happy ending. The illustrations are so, so pretty.

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Echo by Absolutelytrash (~26k, T)

Post-canon AU! Technically unfinished, but it leaves off at a pretty satisfying spot imo. Zhao Yunlan is taken hostage in exchange for the Hallows. I find the psychology around the perpetrator to be absurdly fascinating and very well done. I also enjoyed(?) watching Zhao Yunlan’s disintegration as he’s tortured under circumstances he does not believe he will survive, and the impact that this experience has on him later on.

#zhen hun #guardian 2018 #guardian #weilan #helle's recs

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hinge · 16 days ago

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Hinge presents an anthology of love stories almost never told. Read more on https://no-ordinary-love.co

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abbotjack · 1 month ago

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HEYY, I'm not here to ask but to let you know that I'm very grateful that you exist (let me kiss you and your chubby brain) that I've got to read your works about Abbot, like you've made my day literally, maybe for a week even.

Like I'm fixing my body clock, woke up by 0200 like shit, and I never regret not going back to sleep because that's how I encountered your first work.

You've made me cry for like a solid hour. Like the 'life we grew' he began to notice. Which I'm gonna praise you honestly.

I love when a writer posts part two and tags part one (sounds basic, but that detail in every post helps me to navigate where and when it starts)

I first saw part 2 but you'd recommend reading part one so I did. You really portray him so diligently, you portray him so perfectly with the exact words. like woahh wait a minute I need to breathe some air, this thing wrecking the hell outta me.

But the Camouflage Onesie? You've made me somthin'. I used to be a fast reader but this part of the series took me an hour and a half to finish. (I stopped in every part that 'amazes' me and imagine the scenario that you've written) Jack's giving the vibes where he finally met his other behalf, like "life is long when one is alone..." uhm vow speech, sortaaa.

Like you know when you've been given a plate of food that you love duperr much and you're savouring every moment while having it in front of you, that's how you made me feel while reading that. I've got to pause reading and thinking about more of it, imagination gone wild.

The bold and big font for weeks, the detailed, descriptive words you used, on how you elaborate week by week they go on through is so magnificent.

The proper spacing for every paragraph to sentences and even dialogue (that's good details that keeps me invested in reading. It doesn't make me feel overwhelmed, which eases my adhd and thank you for that!)

I just noticed that the time passed me by so quickly because the window got a bit brighter from the outside and realized that it was 0630 something.

And I've got to read your pin post about yourself and that was totally understandable, quite amazing for some reason that observing the time stamp from your works. You still have 400+ unread messages yet when I scan through your works. DAMN 11k words, 5k? Like dude how do you have the willpower to make that long story.

And by the span of the whole month you have a master list about Abbot (Pope) and also Robby. That's so cool, really!!!

___

As of today, I wanna show gratitude for keeping me (and the others well fed)

when you drop Sticky Fingers, Quiet Mornings. DUDDEEE, seeing a man being emotionally vulnerable is remarkably insightful!! It hits hard when Jack feels that her daughter doesn't need him when putting on her shoes. when her daughter needs him when she got a cold, having that feeling that he needs to be right fucking there, the moment she wokes up with a fever. I have many favorite moments from your stories. But apparently, every sequence and interlude that you've written is well made. It’s rare for a fic to ‘eat’ this consistently—every scene devoured, no crumbs left. Like when you're watching a movie, there would be a boring timeline or not an engaging scene, but your's? It was like a last drop of honey, too sacred to waste. I just love everything about you and your work.

another is Irregularities, like yow are you ok?? After part four, you've dropped the prequel for like 3 days after the other. You've finished almost 14k words in a short span of time? 😭😭, you're too powerful, consuming your work means to feel this visceral thing, and that 101% guarantee. The chronological order, it never missed any beat! And again the spacing for each line. Plus what I've read from your anon ask. Like how did you put your real world experience to make the character ultra realistic. Damn. On how you imprinted yourself with it. I have nothing to say:’). Everytime you drop another piece of art. It makes me smile and click it immediately.

When this anon asks about your motivation?? You've explained too specifically, from generalizing to elaborating the reasons, the narrative. I can't, you're too good on how you express everything. Your prof is real when he says you're gifted when it comes to writing, I totally agree!!

I've read that you ship WALSH AND JACK, SYDD, (I saw it from one of the a bit mean anon who despises shipping them) I'll be honored to devour any piece of your works when it comes to them!! I do wonder if you have plans about it, like just a one story>_< (just one). Yet there this anon that asked you about what was there background and you elaborate, the convergence, alliance. I adore how you've managed to think of it that way.

Plus your plan about Jack and her wife having a twin?? I mean I am very delighted, though I just thought about the genders of their little cubs.

It could add another flavor to your story so much. Correlating it to psychology, you clicked something in me. I remembered in class about Karen Horney, her conducted study about women, opposing Freud’s view about females. She did talk about parent-child relationships. On how emotional needs of early childhood could affect your child's behavior. Yet she didn't formalize cross-gender parent bonding that daughters are closer to their dad while the son is closer to their mother. I hope you understand what I am trying to say, (I am bad at explaining). Like I imagine how everything will go. Gender matters because it requires Jack different approach, maybe not from the start but as they grow up. It just intrigued me on how you will write about that. A bit excited, yess

It takes me weeks before finally sending this to you, (I am not great when it comes to writing and it will take me eternity to write another thing, academically or for personal occurrence). uuhmm it made me curious of who you are but that's another boundary.

All I know or maybe to properly conclude that you were in college maybe last year? Or a fresh graduate and being an intern in your new job, (if you are currently in a job, I wanna say CONGRATULATIONS).

This info's source was from your anon asked which I love to read.

I don't know which continent or country were you but your works reached Asia (south-eastern and eastern Asia).

I don't, really don't want to sound like a creep. (If this long ask overwhelmed you, in any way. You could leave it in your ask box, sending you a dm is a bit creepy so I'll leave it r'ght here) Your writing makes me and the other reader have this euphoric sensation. I wanted to say more than this but I am lost for words. But to sum it all up, I just want to express bone-deep gratitude for your existence and your piece!!

I noticed every tiniest bit. And you deserve a good appreciation for it babee... just glad about everything. Please be hydrated all the time<33

edit : also I did start a walsh x abbot fanfic!

I’ve been sitting with your message for a while.

Not because I didn’t know how to respond—but because I did. And I wanted to do it properly. I wanted to slow down and really write back. Because you didn’t just drop a quick compliment in my inbox—you gave me time. You gave me care. You gave me you. And that deserves more than a quick thank you and a couple emojis.

What you wrote hit me in a way I wasn’t expecting. The specificity. The warmth. The thoughtfulness. You took your time with it—stopped and started, saved it to drafts, circled back when your brain allowed. And you sent it anyway. You let it out. That’s not small. That’s the kind of vulnerability most people talk themselves out of.

So here’s me matching that energy back.

I’m Syd. I’m 21, in my last semester of undergrad. I study applied mathematical economics, which is a fancy way of saying I like hard data, systems, and the things people don’t usually associate with softness. But I also have a minor in Women’s and Gender Studies, because I’m constantly trying to balance the measurable with the emotional. The structure with the story.

This summer, I’m working as an intern with a nonprofit in downtown Cleveland, and it’s exactly where I want to be. On the side, I’m also volunteering at a women’s shelter—helping with admin, intakes, programming. Mostly, I just listen.

I’ve sat across from women who’ve walked in with nothing but their kid in a hoodie and a CVS bag of papers. Women who’ve been failed by systems. Women who don’t need to be fixed—just protected. And every time I leave the building, I feel the same thing in my chest that I feel when I write: That overwhelming, steady, quiet knowing that survival doesn’t always look heroic. Sometimes it’s just showing up again the next morning.

That’s what I want to keep doing after I graduate in December. Whether I stay in nonprofit or go back to school for public policy, my goal is D.C.—working in gender advocacy, education policy, or economic justice initiatives. Especially in STEM fields where the gender gap is still treated like an afterthought.

But writing? That’s what I do for myself.

That’s what keeps me tethered when the rest of the world is all spreadsheet and structure.

And Jack Abbot… I still don’t have the right words for what writing him has given me. What you have given me by reading him so closely.

You didn’t just skim. You noticed.

You paid attention to the way I space my lines, how I use font changes to signal time shifts. You caught the way I tag Part 1 in Part 2, not because it’s flashy, but because I care about orientation. I care about the reader knowing where they are, even if they show up in the middle of the story.

Regarding Camouflage Onesie, you said reading that fic felt like savoring a favorite meal. Like sitting with something slow and meaningful. That floored me. Because that’s how I want these stories to feel. I don’t write for the hit of dopamine, or to throw smut at a wall. I write for people like you—the ones who reread sentences. Who imagine the scenes. Who slow down when it hurts.

You said “Jack’s giving the vibes where he finally met his other behalf.” Not “better half.” Not “missing piece.” Other behalf. That choice of words? That’s poetry. That’s something I’ll be quoting for months. Because that’s exactly what I think he feels—that she’s not a fix, but a counterpart. A person who knows how to hold the weight without dropping it.

The fact that Sticky Fingers, Quiet Mornings meant something to you—especially that sequence with the shoes and the fever—makes me feel seen in a way I don’t know how to explain. I wrote that story thinking no one would care about the small moments. That maybe it was too quiet, too soft. But you understood it. Not just emotionally, but viscerally.

And Irregularities… yeah. You caught me in the act with that one. I wrote 14k words in a stretch of 3 days like my life depended on it. No outline. You asked if I was okay—and the honest answer is sometimes, not really. But writing helps me get there!

And the twins… oh, god. You went into Karen Horney and cross-gender attachment theory and you get it. You brought academic language into fanfiction discussion without losing the emotional marrow underneath. That’s rare. That’s brilliant.

Jack with a daughter is one kind of story. It’s about protection, yes, but also softness. Permission. It’s him learning that strength isn’t what makes him worthy in her eyes—it’s presence. It’s the ache of watching her grow into her own body, her own mind, and wondering if she’ll be safe in a world that wasn’t built with her in mind. It’s feminist fatherhood—the kind that doesn’t just “empower” her, but yields to her. That lets her take up space. That teaches her early that no man who truly loves her will ever be intimidated by her strength, her voice, or her “too-muchness.”

But Jack with a son? That’s something else entirely. That’s legacy. That’s the inherited weight of masculinity—the fear of replicating silence, of passing down emotional absence as a blueprint for manhood. It’s staring into a face that looks like his and wondering how to teach gentleness when no one gave it to him. It’s about reparenting himself in real time. It’s the tension of trying to teach a boy that vulnerability is not weakness, while still learning how to believe that himself.

And when I write those dynamics—when I imagine him fumbling through a quiet car ride with his son (soon, spoiler!), or tying his daughter’s shoe with fingers that still shake from trauma—I’m drawing from every article I’ve annotated in my Women’s & Gender Studies courses. From bell hooks writing about men and love. From Adrienne Rich’s concept of motherhood as both institution and experience. From intersectional feminist frameworks that say: gender doesn’t shape who we are—it shapes who we’re allowed to be.

That’s the subtext. That’s the story under the story. And you caught it.

You even noticed the pacing between releases. You tracked the time it took between updates. You didn’t just consume the work—you witnessed it. You treated it like something human. Something that came from somewhere. And I hope you know how rare that is. That kind of presence? That kind of investment? That’s not casual. That’s someone who reads with their whole self. Who brings their own theory, their own tenderness, their own intelligence into the experience.

And I don’t take that lightly. I never will.

If this writing ever gave you something to hold onto—something soft, something steady, something familiar—please know you gave it right back to me tonight.

You said your message sat in drafts for a while. But now it’s here. And it’s real.

Just like you are.

I’ll keep writing for people like you. People who linger. Who underline. Who feel.

Come back when you can. My inbox is always open.

And this—this letter?—is already something I’ll never forget.

p.s. yes, I’m drinking water. yes, I’m still thinking about “other behalf.” yes, I’d write 11k more words just to make you feel like this again!

#ask #nishim

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chibsandchill · 2 months ago

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Fire and blood and ... love?

Summary: Daemon finds himself… yearning for who he believes is twin flame. Part 1 (?)

Fandom: House of the dragon (HOTD)

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x AFAB!reader (can be read as belonging to any house)

Masterlist

AN: I’m extremely out of practice, but yeah, here’s a bit of Daemon ig.

Warnings: Including but not limited to: Daemon, Daemon, Daemon, metaphorical sh, allusions to metaphorical sui***e, janky dialogue at times, unreliable narrator, obsession, stalking, thoughts of violence, Daemon monologues for a fair bit of the fic, brief (very) allusions to what could be interpreted as "self-exploration", Daemon is manipulative, Daemon is his own warning (again), grammatical errors (english is not my first language).

Happy reading!

-:-.-:-.-:-

Daemon was a stranger to peace,

as was you, he imagined.

Until,

him.

He saw in you a twin flame. One that would challenge and be challenged, to comfort and in turn be comforted.

Though he reveled in the bond, coveted it even, you had not yet realized what he was to you and you to him. But he heard your heart’s calling. Perhaps he always has, just as he always will. Now that he had found you there was not a man nor force nor god that could tear him from you. It is a belonging that transcends earthly flesh and desires, it is as vast and ineffable as the gods themselves, as chaotic as a dragon’s soul and as warming as a roaring hearth. It is a thing beyond any words known to him and anyone else, and even if he had the words he would not share them. To share would be to give way, to rip a piece of you and give to another. Not even a word would he part with, even the idea of you was one he kept and cherished.

He wonders if you too felt the longing. If you ached as he did, hurt as he did. It oozed through the cracks of his facade like pus from an infected wound. It festered and blackened and split ever more with each second that he went ignored. Each time your eyes flickered past him was pain unimaginable. For this pain he too lacked the words. How does one even begin to describe the sheer size of the hole in his soul, the crippling agony that your absence caused him. The visceral reactions to others laying claim to that which is destined to be his. In all possibilities, in every life, on every plane of existence and even beyond that, it was always you, and across it all his pain and envy and longing echoed. It was enough to make even the gods cower under the weight of it all.

He would not be ignored any longer.

He would feel your eyes on him.

Finding you is child’s play. Even without eyes he would know you. The sound of your breaths is as familiar to him as his own, perhaps even more so. Indeed, to say that he found you would be a lie, for you were never lost to him. Though his eyes may be torn from you, you are two souls torn apart, the calling of your own is deafening. It calls like a wounded animal.

It’s all semantics in the end. Clever word plays and the copying of others declarations of devotion; all of which falls short of this. Whatever this is. All Daemon knows is that you are two parts of a whole, as crude and lackluster a description as that was. Perhaps even that is not true and the nature of this connection is beyond him. Maybe this body, this life is one where not even he can truly understand the bond and even were the gods to provide the words to put to paper, he could not. He is left stumbling in the dark with the memory of a light. He remembers the sun, he knows of it and can feel hints of its caress on his skin but he cannot bring forth the memories.

He was born in the dark,

but he would live in it no longer.

Today, Daemon would step out of the cave and he would see the sun and the sun would see him.

You linger among the flowers in the royal gardens even as the others have long since left. The floral scent clings to you. It becomes you.

“I was not aware that the prince cared for flowers.”

His heart skips several beats. Daemon is unsure how to proceed. What does he say? What should he not say?

“It’s a recent development.” He says.

You do not turn around to face him, even as manners dictate that you should. He’s glad for it. He finds himself overwhelmed, at a loss. Daemon came to find the sun but instead found himself drowning. Every sense set alight with you. It is a new sort of pain, this bonding. Different. Strange, even. It is water a touch too hot, like wine that stings as you swallow.

The splitting of your souls did not leave a clean scar. The edges of you are jagged and sharp and cut ever so deeply when he presses against it. He cares not. He welcomes it. Craves it. Daemon would gladly press himself against you until there was naught of him left if only to feel the shadow of you.

“Indeed.” You say. You smile. He can feel it. A string in that odd bundle of nerves is tugged, and he feels it as though it is his own. “It is an interest well-timed. The garden is in full bloom.”

“How fortunate.”

Daemon couldn’t give less fucks about the garden. But you did and so in a round-about-way, he did too. Viserys spared much expenses concerning the upkeep of their home, the garden but one of many that suffered because of it. You are deserving of more than this. He would have you surrounded by only the most fragrant and beautiful of flowers. This would not do. It is an insult to you.

“I find myself curious as to the origins of this… newfound interest in botany. Forgive me, but I was under the impression that the prince was drawn to the battlefield.”

“There is more than one kind of battle. I found myself in need of a change. Variety is good for the soul, is it not?”

“Quite.” You say.

Your steps are light as you move around the garden. Daemon’s eyes follow you. He would not miss even the most minute of movement in you; a slight change in your posture, a passing glance to a maid scurrying past.

“And you?”

You finally turn to him. Your eyes meet his, and all else disappears. If you answered his question, he could not say. He is not there to hear it. He is elsewhere. Wildfire courses through his veins and he feels both lighter and heavier all at once. It is confusing and frightening. It is raw pleasure and unimaginable pain. He is both hollow and full. Too full and yet not full enough. From beyond his body he looks at you and thoughts rush through his head at an alarming speed but still words evade him. Perhaps by design. His desire for you had no end, not even with himself would he share you.

“Is everything alright?” Your voice cuts through him and he is back.

He smiles. “It will be.”

Daemon is awestruck. He is rendered speechless. To see you, for you to see him, is overwhelming.

“That is good.” You say before excusing yourself to attend to your mother. She is with child again, you say.

Daemon is tempted to deny your leaving, to demand you to stay and instead attend to your prince. But he does not. Even in the midst of this… growing bond, he will be patient. It pains him, but to cut you off from your kin would be cruel. Daemon will be many things to you, but never cruel. He would allow you this time, and then less time. He requires all of you, and he would have all of you.

At first he thought he had fallen ill.

But now he knows that to be without you is sickness. Your absence leaves him shivering, unable to think. It is not unlike a fever, he thinks. To burn and be burned in return is the way of dragons. He wonders if this is not how Vermithor feels when Silverwing is away.

Your bond was not a thing of man, of Andals or the First men. It is a living being; unconditional love and devotion itself acting as a link. It is a concept beyond the mind’s of humans made palpable. He can feel it just as he can feel the ground under his feet or the fabric of his tunic on his skin. It cannot be denied, or ignored. It is not a thing created or formed, rather it has always been there. There are steps to it, Daemon reckons. And a line has been crossed. Surely the bond is screaming at you as it is roaring at him. It has waited for so long, as has he.

And they will wait no longer.

A day has passed, or so said the household staff. It might as well have been an age as far as he was concerned. Time passes remarkably slowly when you spend them hiding in walls and scouring down dank passages. You looked lovely as ever, like pure perfection sprawled out across silk sheets.

It was tempting to breach the line he forced himself behind. To behold you not from behind the cover of darkness but by your side. It is ever so tempting to just step into the light and have you again. That should be him warming you in the night, undressing and dressing you again come morning. But it is not, because the gods are cruel.

But Daemon,

Daemon is crueler.

He would steal you from under the Gods’ eyes, denying them the pleasure of his suffering. With you, he would have his justice. He would tear them from the sky, extinguish the flames and leave them shivering in the lands they themselves had sent his people into exile to. They would live a half life and he would leer at them from his throne.

Thoughts of revenge fed his control. He didn’t step into your chamber as you slept, even if his bleeding heart tried to demand he do. Daemon would have you willing. He’s had far longer than you to understand, so he would be patient.

For now.

“You sent for me, my prince?”

He shivers.

“Yes.” Daemon says. “I thought we might walk in the garden. I would like to know more about botany. It will no doubt come in handy someday.”

It takes all he has to speak and for his voice to not falter under the waves of you. Daemon’s words are lacking, empty, choppy and almost incoherent. Charm evaded them. He feels unsteady on his feet and the idea of walking is as appealing as drowning. You seem unaffected by him, your voice is clear and strong, your posture straight and unwavering. Not even under the influence of ancient gods do you fall short of perfection. Mayhaps that is why he is so lacking, the split between souls was uneven, for such was the traumatic tear. He wonders what he has taken in return. He would, will, give it all back. When you are whole again. One.

It is a thought that digs through him straight to his heart where it makes a home. Every drop of blood carries that single-minded desire of becoming one, of returning what was taken. All that he is, will be yours. Like that thought, he would burrow into your side, he would make a home in your heart and spend the rest of time keeping you alive.

“My prince is deep in thought,” you say. An observation more than a question. “I’ve been told I have a talent for listening.”

He didn’t doubt it. But to tell would be to open the gates and let it all out. There would be no stopping it, and he was not finished. Daemon would not taint you with his darkness. No, he would keep his thoughts until such a time that he had made himself again. His life was constantly repairing and rebuilding himself when others would knock him down, and when he himself would tear down the very foundations of his being so that he could build himself anew. With each cycle, with each sacrifice, he lost a piece of him, one that was replaced by rot. This, this, he would save you from. Until he tears the infection out at the root he would not be a dragon whole.

“I’m sure you are.” He says, though not unkindly. It’s half a battle already to try and tame his face. A grin would be fitting, expected even. But could he stop at a grin? Probably not. “But my troubles would bore you to death. I would much rather hear you speak.”

You dip your head, a faint redness creeping up your neck. “As the prince wishes.”

“He does wish it.” Daemon says.

“Where would you like to begin? Perhaps with the herbs, my prince? Most are commonly found across the whole continent and have been proven to help the suffering of others and oneself.”

“Are you speaking from experience?”

“Yes.”

You don’t elaborate, and he doesn’t ask. Soon enough all of your secrets will be his, all those lovely thoughts shared. He would have it all.

“Then it seems I picked the right teacher.”

You clear your throat. Are you nervous? He watches frozen as you turn. Will you deny him this simple pleasure? With ease, it seems, for you step away from him rather briskly.

“This way, my prince.” You say.

You guide him around the garden like a well-seasoned guide. You know the location of each and every one of the flower beds containing whatever herb you wanted to introduce him to. That you carry great knowledge becomes ever clearer. Words spill from you with great abandon, a constant stream of tricks and instructions on how to craft everything from potions and poultices to bandages and various concoctions. It is almost concerning, to Daemon, how much you know. You are not yet protected, not fully, and to know too much in a place such as King’s Landing was dangerous. You are not a man, and thus you cannot be made into a pawn.

Daemon knows not how long he followed you around the garden for he was lost in your words. Time lost all meaning around you, it seemed. You spoke and he responded. He could hear himself answering, prodding, charming, but he knows not the words he spoke, nor the ones you sent back. He feels as though he has been split apart again, that part of him has ascended beyond petty mortal things. Words held no meaning for he would know your soul. Words are not honest. Not true. He is a Targaryen, and that word alone carries power, respect. You will not speak your mind, not freely.

He does not blame you for this.

There is the vessel, and there is Daemon. Your vessel is chained, restrained. Shackled. But you… you are unbound. Your core does not bend, does not sway in the gentle wind. It remains steady and strong; like a guiding light; a beacon. Daemon wonders if you too have split yourself apart. Perhaps, you too, are observing him in his entirety. There are no lies here, no secrets. There is only the truth for there are no words, no voices. It is and it isn’t.

Your soul shines brightly, almost blindingly so. But it is fragmented. Cracked, even. He can see the edges of it. The parts bleeding and weeping,

weeping for him.

The Starks carry the legacy of Wargs; great Northerners with the ability to enter an animal’s mind. But they pale in comparison to the legacy of Dragons, and of their riders. For what is seeing the world through hogs and rats compared to soaring the skies as a dragon. To breathe and live as fire and fury made flesh. This, whatever this is, feels like that. An out-of-body experience. Daemon scours through the vast nothingness to find the only thing that matters. He is not himself here; or maybe he is? Maybe this is the truest Daemon he can be. Is this how dragons perceive the world? Beyond vessels and the meaning of words.

“I apologize,” you say. “I have not had much practice with teaching.”

Daemon is back. He never left. Perhaps he is still there, gorging himself fat on your light while also conquering you here.

“Nonsense,” he says, “I have learnt much.”

Though not of botany.

You look at him. He is once more struck by your beauty. Under your skin he can see the faint glow of your soul. It cannot quite be contained by this fleshy prison. It seeps out of your pores, gives your eyes that delicious sparkle. Perhaps it is not quite so clear of a split between the two. Maybe like all else, Daemon understands little.

“I am glad. Though, I would recommend that, should you wish to know more, you seek the help of a Maester. They carry knowledge that I can only dream of possessing. You would learn much from them. Far more than I could ever teach you.”

Daemon hums in agreement. Your glow dulls ever so slightly at this. A sharp sting of pain echoes through him at the sight. ‘Tis true, the Maesters did carry knowledge beyond your understanding, and his for that matter. But he cared not for that. Their knowledge is flawed; outdated. It is facts and political agendas and fantasy passed down through generations. But your knowledge? It is born, not from ancient tomes, but from experience.

He doesn’t know how to fix the expression on your face; the slight downturn of your eyebrows, the dejection shown clearly. It is subtle, as all things are with you. You retreat a little, and the light follows. He wonders where you go. How can he follow?

How does one fit all their emotions into such small words? All Daemon knows is anger and sadness and deceit. His family shows love through scathing remarks and lies to hide the raw truth. They hide, hide and hide, coveting their cores and their true selves. They are hidden but they long to be seen all the same. It is so very confusing.

“Have you not considered that maybe that is why I chose you? I am a simple man in need of… simple knowledge.”

You did not seem to know how to respond to that. He’s almost glad for it. You bow your head, but he knows not the intent behind it. Do you see past the words? Daemon is not a simple man, at least not in the way that matters.

“I meant no insult.” He hurries to add. “It is as you say, I am drawn to the battlefield. Should I get injured there is no time for Maesters. Your simple knowledge may yet save your Prince’s life one day.”

You gaze at him, guarded. “I hope that day never comes.”

It is under the cover of darkness that he plots. Daemon finds himself spending most of his nights in old Maegor’s hidden passages. The stench of it clogs his nose. It’s musty and dank, filled with spiderwebs and dead rats. As a child he stepped on many a servant’s old bones, but he has long since memorized their locations.

From there, he watches over you. He knows the kind of people that are drawn to the Keep, to his family. Daemon is not the only one who lurks in the dark, but his purpose is far nobler, far more important. Far more than rats scuttle around the tunnels, but Daemon, Daemon would slaughter them all the same should they scurry too close.

He rather enjoys these nights with you. Granted, he would enjoy it far more were he in your chambers with you. Faint traces of your fragrance linger on the cold stone. Daemon imagines that by the end of the night he, too, will smell of it. The fantasy is far warmer than the walls he’s pressed up against, but a mere flicker of a flame compared to the other fantasies he carried. Perhaps this night will inspire more of those delicious, toe-curling dreams to carry him through the days until he can be with you like this again.

Surely, the way you move on the bed is to inspire him.

Surely you feel his keen eyes watching you through the cracks.

Surely, the light you keep by your bedside is so he can watch over you in the dark.

Flowing satin sheets allow the contours of your body to be known to him. It clings to you in a way that has him swallowing; be it from desire or envy, it matters not. It is all the same in the end.

Would your fingers wander, he wonders. Down, down, down, until even breaths stutter into a soft gasp. The pads of your fingers moving down your body, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Caressing, softly tracing soft skin. It is sweet torture to imagine these things, but when your fingers never take the journey his mind mapped out, he doesn’t find himself disappointed.

Why would he be?

When you, ever so sweetly, surrender your pleasure to him.

No, this is but a sweet prelude to what is to come, when Daemon can shed this skin and be yours.

Daemon can no longer summon you under the excuse of learning about ‘botany’. His brother grows suspicious of it all and instead of having you waiting for him in the gardens, it is desecrated by a gray rat.

Ever oblivious, his brother, the king.

But he cannot say the real reason why he lingers there, why he no longer scours the streets of King’s Landing from dusk to dawn. This, you, any of you, he will not share. This place, this garden, is far more than that. Your… spirit lingers among the plants. When the sun shines just right he can even see it. You. Tending to them with a steady hand. You are faint, and you shiver in tune to his breaths, but you are there all the same.

Perhaps you are indeed divided. Are you aware of it? Can you feel the disconnect? The separation of vessel and soul? It remains a comfort all the same to have you there. It is warming in a way wholly unfamiliar to Daemon that someone would go to such lengths (any lengths) for him. To tear yourself away from your vessel to watch over him, it is an honor he did not foresee. Perhaps you are more similar than he first thought. You stand guard over him just as he does you at night. You shroud yourself in the cover of the unleashed.

Daemon resigns himself to find you instead.

It is hardly difficult to. You are connected, after all. You are known to him. Always.

He finds you hidden away under one of the alcoves, but you are not alone.

“Prince Daemon!” The intruder exclaims, dropping down into a curtsy.

Daemon nods.

“My prince,” you greet him from your seat.

He speaks your name and it feels heavenly on his tongue.

A beat of silence.

“Would you like some tea?” You ask. “I gathered the herbs myself.”

You make a sweeping gesture to the table. The three cups on the table makes him pause. Steam rises from two of them but the third is untouched, but placed with the same care as the other two. Your… visitor is seated on the opposite side of the small table, but the third cup, his cup, sits next to you. Along with the tea the table is set with humble servings of desserts.

Accepting the invitation would be breaching even further court etiquettes. Your honor could come into question should anyone wander upon the group, even should the unwanted visitor remain. Him being there was already bordering on inappropriate, but he was a prince, and commenting on his actions would be far more inappropriate than whatever mischief Daemon had gotten himself into.

Such a shame, though, that Daemon has never cared much for etiquette, and so he promptly sits down in his seat with a barely audible huff. The corner of your mouth twitches as though you’re trying to hide a smile.

You pour a healthy serving of fragrant tea in his cup. It’s dark and murky, like the puddles he jumped in by the stables as a child. The smell is distinctly floral, but not like any flower he knows. It smells nice, and as you add a spoon of honey to it, it almost looks appealing. He wonders then how you knew of his love for honey. The healthy dollop you scooped up for him was anything but the norm, as his mother kept telling him during their afternoon teas. But then again, was it so odd that you knew? Many things about you were known to him before he had ever set his eyes on you. Perhaps you had even expected him today.

“Thank you.” He says, but he doesn’t move to grab the cup. You’re still stirring.

Your visitor fidgets in their seat.

“I… we apologize for the meager selection, my prince,” they say, “had I.. we known that you would join us, we would have asked the kitchens for things more… suitable.”

“This third cup, who was it for?” He asks.

“My sister. She usually joins us but she’s fallen ill.” They say, though he asked you.

Daemon glances at you. The sun is high in the sky and there’s a glint in your eye. He knows, then. You clever thing, he thinks.

“I am honored to take her place.”

For the first time since he arrived, you look away from his eyes. He cares not for the feeling that washes over him. The stark coldness that crawls up his fingers. Surely it will reach his heart and turn him to stone. Luckily the tea provides some warming comfort. It is a piece of you, a product of your labor; a sliver of ground up love for him to have. It is bitter, but the honey smooths it and so he has another mouthful of it.

“Is it to your liking?” You ask. “I’ve been told it’s an acquired taste.”

Daemon meets your eyes once more.

“Quite.” He says with a smirk that’s almost hidden behind the rim of the cup.

A faint blush spreads across your cheekbones, and you look away from him. He wonders if you know that he wasn’t talking about the tea.

Before long he’s back in the corridors of the Keep. Not long after meeting you he was called away to attend to his… duties. He had no choice but to leave then, even if his entire being screamed to stay. He could not yet afford such carelessness. Not with you. Not with all the snakes still poised around him to strike.

The King needed something done, and Daemon was the one who needed to see it done. But Daemon would have it no other way, for who else could his brother trust in this world. Otto Hightower? Surely not.

But it came with a price. The moon was high in the sky by the time he finally lumbered up to the hidden door leading into your chambers. Your candles were unlit and there was a distinctively you-shaped form under the covers. Tonight there would be no teasing glimpses of smooth skin, or shy, tentative brushes of curious fingers against yourself. No choked down gasps of surprise when those fingers inevitably traced against something that made you feel oh-so-good.

He could pluck you from your bed, if he wished. And he does wish it. He could take you now and before dawn you could be married in the ways of his people. No one would even know.

That night, Daemon breaches the boundaries of your room. His mind is racing with ideas, with different plots and scenes and thousands of endings and consequences to every single scenario he had playing before his eyes. Though they all ended the same way – united.

Several nights he’s stood posted outside your door, suffering in silence among the dust and whispers of whores and drunkards. But here? There is none of the harshness of the world. Your room is soft, in a way he could not explain. The air is not heavy, nor tainted with deceit. It is honest, pure. And it smells like you; alive and thriving.

Apart from the elaborate murals, the decor is rather minimalistic in style. Everything serves a purpose. It is so very unlike his own chambers. Daemon has plenty of fine possessions which he displays on shelves spanning one end of the walls to the other. Great pieces of history polished until they shone like the sun itself. Much of it is the remains of his family’s life before Westeros. But to call his chambers simplistic would be a lie. Indeed to say that the only grandeur is his impressive collection of history would be a far greater lie. Daemon enjoys both simple and lavish pleasures, and he is not one to deny himself of earthly pleasures. He’s spent many a golden dragon on hand-crafted furniture and woven tapestries, but they are all picked with the greatest of care and his chambers are a point of pride for him.

Alas, Daemon struggles to find you in the room. The smells and the feelings of it are all you, undeniably so considering how he shivers as he inhales, but the rest? Uncharacteristically bland. You are of life in a way that is not reflected in your chambers. There is none of you to be found; no memories to steal from a hidden chest of childhood toys, or clothing slung over the modesty covering in the back of the room. No books placed on the stool next to the bed, no flowers or herbs growing on the windowsill, not even a scratch or a smudge on the floor from a step just a tad bit too harsh.

If he could not see you sleeping in the bed, he would think this to be an empty chamber.

But he does see you, and so he knows it is yours. Perhaps you have hidden it away,

for him.

You know, just as he, that all that is you belongs to him. You have hidden yourself from the greedy eyes of your maids so that all you have, you can give. Just as he will give all that is he and all that he has ever been or ever will be.

Your bond demands as much.

Daemon looks over at you and he knows that he will no longer be satisfied by watching you from the hidden tunnels.

He keeps one of your handkerchiefs in one of his pockets. It smells like you.

He hopes it never fades, for surely the torture of being away from you will be unbearable then. This small reminder of you, this anchor to guide him in this sea of longing and deep pain, is all that keeps him from being swept away by the darkness within him. How can he bear being away from you if there is not even the slightest guarantee that he can return to you?

It is only as he is crossing the threshold into his own chambers that he realizes that, though you have gifted this to him, he has left nothing in return. This gift … this lifeline … was it a silent request for something of his? A need that you did not yet have the words for beyond the near-on stomach curling want? It is almost enough to make him return to your side.

Almost.

He would not disturb your rest, not when he knows the struggles of sleep. For a brief moment he allows himself a pause in chiding himself for neglecting you, to admire your strength. With each day he finds an ever increasing difficulty in truly resting without you. The act of falling asleep is unfathomable. It is as far removed a concept as can be. Those moments in the hidden passages are the only moments when his shoulders can finally relax, when his thoughts do not race to the point of blinding pain. How much of your suffering has he been ignorant to? Has his responsibilities led to him missing this, this shared struggle?

Are you yourself privy to this? Or have those grey rats convinced even you that your suffering is because of some arbitrary godly laws that you have broken by existing, by simply being in this bonded state that you are. They can sense this, Daemon is sure of it. They know what you are and they hate it.

A piece of his resolve is broken then. A man can only take so much, and he finds himself, with each passing hour, less inclined to restrain himself.

Yes, things would have to change, or Daemon fears that you both shall be driven mad. It is with that thought in his mind that Daemon returns to his chamber with a near on maddenly drive to set his plans in motion so that you can finally be whole again.

#hotd imagine #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagines #daemon imagines #daemon targeryan #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen imagine

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shadowgast-recs-weekly · 1 year ago

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This week, we have eleven fics that feature Caleb, Essek, and at least one other person involved! Look behind the cut for some Shadowidomauk, some Blumenshadow, some Fjord/Essek/Caleb and more!

amongst the things left unforgiven by nonwal (63958, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

“In which a pair of scourgers shows up at Essek’s doorstep and saves him from himself.“ Slow-burn blumenshadow featuring heavy mistrust, mind games that aren’t mind games, and Caleb mostly in the background thinking he doesn’t deserve to be loved.

Reccer says: One of my all time faves. Nonwal’s gorgeous prose and characterization of these 4 is always top notch, but the dialogue?! The spy vs. spy mind games? The poetic descriptions of longing and grief? The visceral feeling of constant low-level panic punctuated by a full panic attack and maybe developing a crush on your current crush’s evil exes? The DIALOGUE (again)?!?! Absolutely stunning. Side note: chapter 4 features the best Jester dialogue I have ever read. The tag “openly declaring your mutual distrust can be a love language if you do it right” says so much and I love it.

Happily Ever Laughter by Settiai (1288, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: Veth’s alcoholism is brought up a few times but isn’t the focus.

Adorable Essek/Caleb/Veth/Yeza slice of life fic. Polyamory is not nearly as difficult as trying to teach a hyperactive 6 year old magic can be.

Reccer says: Incredibly sweet little domestic fic. The rapport between them is so soft and gentle and well-worn like the most comfortable pair of old house slippers. The moments where Yeza and Caleb glance at each other and manage to communicate in absolute silence (in that pseudo-telepathic way that some real parenting couples often do) are just so perfect, and Veth still finding Essek somewhat aggravating even while she loves him is :chefskiss: delightful.

Three’s Company by flammablehat (2074, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Caleb, Essek, and Fjord have a threesome, and Essek is maybe more than a little jealous about it.

Reccer says: Possessek is always a favorite! Fjord is fjeisty, and Caleb is having the time of his life. It’s both hot and tense.

altogether, infinite possibilities by ivelostmyspectacles (199305, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek has barely begun to cement his place in Caleb’s life when they bring Mollymauk Tealeaf back from the dead. Slowly, the three of them adapt together.

Reccer says: First part of a series! This was my entry point into Shadowgast!

in the pieces of what's left or what we've found by SeaWitchDreams (14620, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Astrid takes some time to figure out how she wants to rebuild her life (and who she wants to rebuild it with.)

Reccer says: a wonderfully subtle and contemplative character study, featuring four wizards carefully dancing around each other

the sea, the stars, the dreamers by nonwal (111996, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: suicidal ideation

Essek sacrifices his budding relationship with Caleb to marry Archmage Astrid Beck - for the good of the entire galaxy. But whatever Astrid's reason for marrying him is, is not nearly as noble.

Reccer says: This fic takes an unusual premise (Blumenshadow arranged marriage spaceship murder mystery with sea shanties?) and *commits* to it. Still incomplete, but if you've liked this author's other works, you won't regret taking a chance on this one.

(Oh,) How a Human Burns by witches_chant (18318, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

This is a story about Essek trying to prepare for eventual loss, depending on if Caleb wants to use the Clone spell or not. But it’s also a story about a lazy, sexy vacation on Rumblecusp where the couple stumble upon a service top and learn things about their relationship (with a happy ending!).

Reccer says: It’s both hot as hell AND feelsy! It’s a really interesting take on Caleb & Essek’s relationship. Honestly I recommend the entire series.

Victim of Convenience by se1ze (54243, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek and Caleb are together, Essek and Kingsley get together, and Kingsley is losing his mind because Caleb can’t get his shit together. An exploration of the very complicated feelings that crop up when a) no one seems to understand who you are, and b) someone you love thinks they need to stay gone for your own good.

Reccer says: The dialogue is fantastic, the sex is wonderful, and the hurt/comfort is amazing. It establishes the foundation upon which Essek/Kingsley can be a thing in a way that is both endearing and completely believable. Caleb is oblivious to how much Kingsley loves him, and once again hurts those around him by throwing himself on his sword.

(nothing in my bones can say) just where you’ve been by SaltCore (8216, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

It takes more time than Caleb realized to get home from the Hellcatch Valley, and in his absence, Essek’s tentative alliance with Astrid and Eadwulf has grown to something more.

Reccer says: Soft and complicated and briefly heartbreaking. The way it manages to feel like an outsider POV reinforces the sense of missing time, of having missed a massive change, and the softness and warmth of everyone’s love for each other is palpable throughout even in the most tense and anxious of moments.

i'll meet judgement by the hounds by necromanticomedy (yelenavasilyevna) (6553, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: Dubcon/Consensual Non Consent, knifeplay

Astrid and Eadwulf come to a dinner party to meet Essek Thelyss. Things either go very poorly or very well, depending on your definitions.

Reccer says: the author called it a "insane psychosexual foursome" but neglected to mention that it's the best insane psychosexual foursome you'll ever read

To The Bone by thetickingclock (2919, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Snapshots of Astrid and Eadwulf's opinion of Essek changing over time (and proximity to Caleb Widogast.)

Reccer says: Hits all my favorite notes when it comes to Blumenshadow, and there's an astounding amount of characterization and relationship development packed into less than 3k words.

Aeor is for Lovers is an 18+ Shadowgast Discord server. The above fanfic recommendations were pulled from our community for this weekly event. All fics, unless otherwise specified, will primarily feature Shadowgast. Have any questions about what this is? Check out the FAQ! Next week, we’ll be back with Lifespan Angst!

#shadowgast #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #critical role #cr fic recs #fan fiction rec list #Kingsley Tealeaf #Mollymauk Tealeaf #Eadwulf Grieve #Yeza Brenatto #Astrid Beck #Veth Brenatto #Fjord Stone

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petrichal · 7 months ago

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One Piece 1133 talk: Praise Me for Living

i just wanted to open this with I WANT TO PELT SPANDINE AND THAT FUCKING SON OF HIS WITH ROCKS SO BAD OH MY GODDDD

"I'll never forget the sounds of the screams that emerged from the fire" THOSE WERE CIVILLIANS. ON THE ISLAND YOU ORDERED A BUSTER CALL ON. I HOPE YOU CHOKED IN YOUR GRAVE AND SUFFER IN HELL I HATE YOU

(kind of a moot point but one other thing i wanna say when I was reading through the raws was that Spandine says “ガキの皮を被った悪魔だ”/"That's a demon wearing the skin of a child" here which - to me - felt more visceral than the translation. still an insane thing to say about a child though, obviously.

edit: I was thinking how fucked up it was that literally everyone around her believed that she truly was the devil's child, but with descriptions like that (+ rumors spreading about how she can use "freakish sorcery" [-> devil fruits not being common in the Blues?], she'd "slit your throat in the night", and "no human emotions", like she's not human at all) you can see how easy it was for people to get brainwashed into this wrong idea of her when she was young. Government manipulation in, i guess, the entirety of West Blue at the time, ran deep. anyways)

With that outta the way, this chapter is masterful. Im gonna cry. Ive cried already throughout a third of my reading for this chapter, it's just so good. Nico Robin I love you so much

Though its unfortunate that we have to see Spandine again, Oda knows what he's doing bringing back Robin's tragedy at the start of the chapter. We know her story, we've seen her flashback, but it's an entire other thing to see it again in Elbaf, the arc where we know the context of, that Saul is alive, and it gives us a clue that that is where the chapter is heading towards.

Also isn't it crazy that when the dialogue frames Robin as this "dangerous", "unfeeling" person with no heart, the visual we're presented with is her crying as she sifts through garbage to search for food, and then sharing it with a dog?? Hello??? And the panels before that goes "The government won't go into detail about the story" for fear that "the truth" might "traumatize the children", which is CRAZY when slapped upon an image of cipher pol agents with guns actively hunting down a child??? The juxtaposition of Spandine's dialogue and the images that are shown is very telling, it's just so well done.

TW: discussions of suicide (for this part)

We know that Robin was ostracized as a child. We know this. Doesn't make it hurt any less, though. Especially (and especially) when it's shown on the pages clearly of how it affected her.

What got me thinking when I saw this again was that all of West Blue was probably fed this lie from the World Government. Every island she went to knew who she was, literally everyone was warned to look out for her, that she was dangerous and should be turned in. And it's not like travelling out of West Blue was safe, nor was it probably an option that existed for Robin back then- like, she was eight!! How was she supposed to go across the Red Line, the Calm Belt?? She was truly boxed in. She must've felt that there was no other way out. Of course she'd turn to suicide.

That panel of her at the cliff honestly broke me. It's not like it wasn't implied at all back when her flashback was first shown; Her circumstances were difficult for her and it wouldn't be out of left field to think that she might have considered dying. To have it drawn on a page that she considered it, looked down from a cliff, and the fact that the only thing keeping her from jumping was her mother's words and Saul's promise was genuinely heartbreaking. She was so strong to have gone through all of that, she deserves the whole world and more actually

Cut back to the present and she lived through it all and here she is with her family, a place where she belongs aaaaaa 🥲 I love that Luffy gets all huffy (hah) over Robin saying that she can go alone, saying that a captain needs to pay their respects to those who have helped their crew, that it's the honorable thing to do. Sounds like a certain someone, ey? (Ace & Shanks lol, he remembers Makino's lessons from all those years ago too ;v;).

Then they all insist to go with her and it's so cute and I was like oh when did she change her clothes and $@!#>}! ITS THE SAME FIT SHE WORE WHEN SHE MET SAUL FOR THE FIRST TIME!! SAUL'S "FALLEN AND WON'T GET UP" IS BECAUSE HE DIDN'T KNOW HOW TO GREET HER SO HE DECIDED TO JUST FACEPLANT ON THE BEACH BECAUSE THATS HOW HE MET HER FOR THE FIRST TIME!!! ITS SO SILLY BUT I STARTED TEARING UP??? WHAT????AND THEN THE PARALLELS:

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

my heart...... my heart.....augghjkjsdh..... (speechless)

The fact that the first thing he tells her was about how Ohara's sacrifice wasn't in vain, that traces of them still remain, like Robin, did you hear Vegapunk's message?? That was the message from the people of Ohara, their voices are still being heard!! was so goddang wholesome.

And Robin hears this, and she hears about how Saul survived and the things he heard other people call her, and he's getting angry on behalf of her again but all she wanted (and perhaps, what she truly needed this whole time) was something else;

For Saul to praise her for having survived.

(The Viz translation isn't ~wrong~ with Robin's line here, but I wanted to point out how it was put originally; Instead of "I want to hear nice things about how I survived!", the raws read “生きたこと… 褒めてほしい！”, which, as I understood it, "I want you to praise me... for being alive/having survived!". The chapter title has it as "Nice Things" but the original was “褒めてほしい”/ "I want you to praise (me)". And this probably seemed self-conceited in english?? and that's why it's translated like that idk, i just thought its nicer in jp)

But the fact that Robin is asking this of Saul and the fact that she's able to make that request in the first place is where I sobbed because this is what Robin wants to hear!!! It's a childish, selfish request, and it's something she wasn't able to wish for / doesn't allow herself to wish for before because she thought Saul/anyone she loved from her past was dead this whole time or that she didn't deserve it, but Saul is alive, and it's the first step she needs to take to truly heal!! Her changing her clothes and cutting her hair to seem more like herself when she was younger is a deliberate choice, this is the part of her that needs closure, the part of her that went through all the trauma the world had given her, and she's healing her inner child!! She needed to hear this from Saul!! She deserves this so much!!! (im rambly if this doesnt make any sense im sorry khfdjk)

And Saul laughs, and says of course!/“勿論だ！”, no questions asked, and the unconditional love just broke me down man i cant

Note that Robin was smiling this entire time (maybe from the start of the arc? or at least since she cut her hair) and leading up to the last page was when she finally started breaking down. They're crying, the crew's crying, Luffy looking on so fondly, happy for her, and I'm crying. I love One Piece so much, I love these dorks. I don't think I'll forget this last page for my life, it's one of the best moments in this series to date.... Truly the Robin chapter of all time <3

bonus: lmfao?? maybe they'll let him down once they get back for the festivities but rip bozo

#in which i yap about Robin so hard I start to not make any sense #As always I'm not a native jp speaker I just want to relay the meaning with how I personally understood it #so take everything I say about translations with a grain of salt lol #also one thing i didnt mention was how robin saw a map and drew a little dot on where Ohara used to be and its so damn sad thats it #chapter review #one piece #nico robin #jaguar d. saul #opspoilers #one piece spoilers #elbaf spoilers #one piece 1133 #one piece ch. 1133

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katyspersonal · 1 year ago

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who do you think fucked up worse…gehrman or maria?

This is an interesting question, and I kind of didn't think of it before! Time to take a closer look at their crimes I guess. Some of these will be held on the possibilities and 'safe assumptions' though and addressed for the full picture!

1) Both were involved in Fishing Hamlet massacre!

With Maria, we can conclude as much because she discarded her weapons in the well at the place specifically. Her version in the Nightmare realm, a Hunter again, is supposed to be what punishes her, and she is focused on keeping Kos/OoK away from rummaging through. Considering the nature of the Nightmare, as well as the Doll who has spiritual connection with her, it should come from her guilt and regrets rather than.. I dunno, discarding the hunt over natural 'character development' and just picking a cool place to forsaken her past!

Gehrman sleeps better according to the dialogue Doll has after you kill OoK and free it's soul, so if it tortured him so, I think it is safe to say he had to be personally involved too rather than stay back while his students did the job:

They both were involved with Byrgenwerth, following their quest for obtaining the eyes of the dwellers from their skulls, and I suppose cord of OoK?

The thing about this point is that the description is written as though it was Gehrman's curiosity which ruined Maria's "idealisation" of him, or WOULD ruin it had she learned of it! This makes me wonder whether she was really involved in Byrgenwerth all that much, or whether she was aware of the real purpose of Fishing Hamlet massacre beforehand? Her goal, within the Nightmare, is stated to mercy-kill us so we don't allow that curiousity corrupt us to the point of "rummaging through corpse" and similar things, further supported by her visceral attack being an embrace if it is lethal!

I am just saying that here the balance might slightly shift towards making Gehrman 'worse' than her. Maybe she was not aware that it all was not just killing "monsters" but also a pregnant mother with her divine baby, but "well you didn't ask :/". Maybe Gehrman deceived her to use her aid. Maybe he didn't think it would be a big deal for her seeing that Maria was also interested in evolution through talking with Great Ones, and assumed she'd be just as callous about which means to accomplish the goals with?

2) Both were grave-robbing, or at least okay with that!

This one is a little less obvious, but Tomb Prospectors were not the first to go to the Chalice Dungeons! ...It were actually Willem, Dores and Gatekeeper lol:

BUT ALSO it were Old Hunters! We can see the remnants of it by Old Hunter Vitus being one the summons in Chalice Dungeons, hear Gehrman encourage us to go into the Chalice Dungeons to become stronger as via "tradition" of the Old Hunters,

and the fact that one of the things that torture Maria (again, remember that Nightmare Realm is Hell that punishes) is a Chalice:

(A video ( x ) for a better look at the Chalice from a figure)

I'd say that it is not very nice to disturb the undead Pthumerians just struggling in remains of their civilisation! Interesting thing: we can conclude they are even staying there to protect the Great Ones or their remains!

There has been some sort of civil war between ancient great-ones-respecting Pthumerians and who late became Cainhurst nobles! Maria, ironically, fell onto the side of "entitled guys" descendants! But yes, I could see why bullying zombie guys to get more history and archeology relics from them might not seem like much for her at start. Experience in the Fishing Hamlet likely retroactively ruined this period of her life for her: delving into Chalice Dungeons was likewise 'not leaving the corpse alone'. The remaining Pthumerians were right having some honour and dignity. So, that came to haunt her in the form of Pthumeru Chalice. Gehrman is.. well he's here too I guess dfshfdhs

3) Both knew a little too much about Laurence's shady business and did nothing?

Old Hunters used to be friends with Healing Church's Hunters and even had their workshops located close to one another! Gehrman was friends with Laurence and Ludwig, who are both quite strongly involved with Moon Presence (Ludwig's sword and guidance, Laurence's affiliation being known since Byrgenwerth times), as well as the key figure in creation of Hunter's Dream:

This was most likely a bait-and-switch, seeing how the cord itself is still in the real Workshop, and not in the grasp of Moon Presence (unlike, say, Wet Nurse taking Mergo's cord)! I think the purpose of creation of the Hunter's Dream was to "buy time" for the research conceived by the scientists! Remember: Gehrman was known to have "madness of curiosity" that Maria resented, or at least would resent had she known! He might have been fully aware of what Laurence wanted to do and support it! My point here, that with such proximity, he must have known of all Laurence's crimes and agreed with them!

Maria was at least overseer of the Clocktower's Research Hall, which, again, was just beta!Choir.

This last line IS a bit confusing, because it makes it sound as though the nerds looking for the Eyes Inside and the Blood Ministers got split. Laurence and Ludwig make it weird, as Moon Presence is also an Eldrich creature and Ludwig is for sure full of eyes! What also makes it strange is that Choir, and then School of Mensis, are both upper echelons of the Healing Church, but Laurence is supposed to be above both of them.

I think this can be worked with! Let's say what if Choir formed after Laurence's death, which also happened after Maria's death, and Vicars after him were somewhat "powerless" and walked over by Choir and Mensis, only leaders in the name! But that still leaves the bit that the mentioned "division" happened after Choir was formed! Maria and Adeline, however, are locked to the existence of the Research Hall, so, the timeframe when doctors and blood ministers were 100% working together! We find the Eye Pendant that opens the access to the Research Hall in Laurence's hand, and human Skull of Laurence on the platform that hides the secret elevator to that Research Hall. Again, by the Nightmare Logic, they must be connected with Laurence's sins: he started this research, or sponsored it, or was overseeing it, and so on.

This point is not an absolute thing though, because one or both of them might be freed from guilt here. Maybe Gehrman was not as informed and agreeable as we could assume and Laurence did lead him around? Maybe Maria wanted but could not do anything being caught in the web of complicated connections, blackmail and risks for the people she cared about?

4) Both are willingly involved in questionable practices (Maria with research, Gehrman with the cycle of Dream and Hunt)

This point I feel like transcends the morality a little bit, as it touches the matter of 'it is bad if you do it, but it is also bad if you DON'T do it'. I really love Soulsborne universes for having guts to say "you can't win, just pick your poison", but I think it is still worth addressing!

It is up to interpretation in which quantity Maria is involved with the Research Hall! Nothing states whether she founded it, joined in the research later, stepped in and turned the tides (ba dum tss) of the research, or simply was a caretaker/nurse/etc of the broken mess while Research Hall was getting ready for a bit of rebranding. She can be very guilty, or she can be barely guilty but in either case if that was her "redemption arc" that was a pretty bad way to go about it. ...or was it?

Fauxsefka turns people into Celestial Emissaries so they physically can't become beasts instead, and is even stated to be a hero / heroic researcher by Miyazaki:

First, I don't do Death of the Author (in terms of interpreting media I mean, not in terms of a style of writing)! Like, nope. Never. It is just not for me. Creator's word is the final for me; Fauxsefka is the good guy in the story, apparently, and it makes sense considering the fundamentally broken place characters are in! Maria has similarities with Fauxsefka: not only both of them have Cainhurst roots, but also both of them seem to favour 'Stars' line of evolution for humans!

Whereas other patients are afraid of the horrors of the Deep Sea, a concept Miyazaki could not get over well into DS3, Adeline desires them! Other patients seems to have gotten it right, and you can see one of them also clings to Maria mentally to "not drown"; Adeline "didn't understand"! The balcony that Maria wants Adeline to go to so she can forsaken the Deep Sea and seek something "happier" holds unique kind of patients who can shoot cosmic arcane spells:

Herself, Maria is associated with these lumenflowers: their petals are all over her boss arena, and the way to her lays through a much bigger batch of flowers, where Living Failures, other 'Stars' Kin are, whose song lyrics also feature lines 'ave stellar' and 'ave Maria'!

So, how this is different from what Fauxsefka is doing, who is stated to be as much of a good person as possible within this context and with the burden of her knowledge? Fauxsefka was doing more or less rinse-and-repeat practice, with maybe a few patients not surviving the procedure but we don't know what happened: maybe that person was already at the brink of death and she tried to make them live like this.

^ This guy I mean. Maria, on the other hand, is in the time period where the doctors and scientists were only testing the waters (BA DUM TSSS) (ok I will stop) and it was not SO certain what was at the stake, what were the alternatives, what was awaiting the humanity. It is even possible that the beasts problem was not yet bad to the point of "you'll either become a beast, be eaten by a beast or become a Kin, humanity is DONE for!" ! This was an unethical research at the cost of real people! The weight of Maria's sin here really depends on the interpretation, though

As for the cycle of Dream and Hunt, this is complicated and lingers on one's interpretation of what the purpose of the Dream even IS! Its existence provides two things: 1) a hunter who is immortal for the night, thus can sustain the beasts with efficiency like no other, but also effect the continuity of the night ( x ) and 2) supposed sustenance to the Great One Flora of the Moon, who holds the hunt as a concept!

I used to be a bit more set on the idea that if beasts are not sustained and hunted, they will simply overpower those who are yet humans and eat them! It is a self-feeding cycle of people needing to self-defend from beasts, thus having to consume the blood as urgent means of healing and power-up since beasts are too strong, thus risking to become beasts themselves because the blood they consumed during that hunt corrupts them. So, the Hunter's Dream would be a good thing, as it'd help to 'buy time' during nights of the hunt in which not only beasts are more active but Great Ones too! While the Dreaming Hunter holds everything together, the greatest minds of the Healing Church can efficiently study the ways to end beasthood, or ANY problem of humanity, once and for all! It is just better to throw the hunting resources on the Dream, so the scientists don't worry about the beasts and can focus on research. However, I almost forgot that:

This implies that had there not been Mensis Ritual ongoing, people WOULD have the chance to simply 'wait away' the beasthood problem. That, since Rom is not stopping Mensis Ritual but just conceals it, what really makes the inner beast within everyone who consumed the blood inevitably come out is Mergo's cry that draws the Bloodmoon close!

So yeah, the point about Hunter's Dream being helpful for the research of evolution still stands, especially under assumption that the deal with Moon Presence helped to bring more Eldrich Arcane close for "feeding" her. The point about how if the beasts are not hunted they'll simply eat everyone, though, is vague. It is safer to assume that the Hunter's Dream and Research Hall both are both example of hubris of man even if approached differently. Attempts to draw in something dangerous and horrifying, but it is "justified risk" because if you manage to 'tame' arcane/blood, sure, humanity will prosper!

Like... yeah, sure, there IS dangerous and undesireable nature of man that ruins everything and might or might not still linger in humanoids' genes after Loran. But did humanity ASK any of you guys to keep trying to fix it with so many victims and sacrifices? Like, was it WORTH it?

This point is closely tied to 'knowing Laurence's bad antics and doing nothing', yeah. Maria didn't seem to like blood ministration very much, as she disapproved of Adeline becoming a Blood Saint, but she also didn't even approve of blood antics of her own clan! I am not sure what would be her opinion on the Hunter's Dream had she lived to the point when it was created, just that she herself is not willing to ever hunt, so I am leaving this point aside. Is this just blood ministration that she opposes but proximity with a Great One Moon Presence would be something she can see the potential of? Or would she and Gehrman have a pointless cat fight about whose methods are better when they are both hubris of man? In both versions they are 'guilty'! Besides:

In the end none of THIS matters either and everyone was fooled ( x ). The blood offering is a blood offering in any way; whether it is through spilling blood violently during the hunt, or offering the blood's 'red' with how celestial Kin all bleed red. Moon doesn't care what paints it red, in the end.

___________________________________

My conclusion is: both of these characters fucked up almost equally! I think the balance shifts just a little bit and Maria is slightly better than Gehrman since she had some limitations set on how far she was willing to go. Her motivation was not in "curiosity" but strictly in helping humanity, even if in unfair ways, which is apparently not the case for Gehrman?

I'll say this though, NOW I am hooked on the idea of Maria and Gehrman being petty "rivals" ideologically (for as long as they could before Maria's own demons caught up with her). Especially since neither approach is better than the other and they are both cringe loosers! Again, lost comedy gold over Fromsoft making Gehrman's tender and warm feelings for her before and after her death plain. What is not lost, however, is the fact that the two should just kick Laurence and go home :pensive:

#bloodborne #lady maria of the astral clocktower #gehrman the first hunter #again: blaming laurence is a solid strategy #honorable mention: even more of maria's blame might be lifted depending on how strong gehrman's influence was on her #we don't know when he started training her. maybe it was since very young age? so a lot of her actions as a hunter were unwise #again it depends because as of now she is a grown thinking woman and could have processed it BEFORE pregnant mother got killed-#-and her child stolen!#so I am on 'maria's agency' side here!#I think it is more like gehrman FEELS as though he 'ruined' her with the hunt #like you know how sometimes when we feel guilty we become illusioned about how much impact we had on another person's actions and feelings #we need to be TOLD that it was that person's choices in the end because we might feel like we 'controlled' them #and of course his guilt would be amplified and impossible to reason with considering she took her own life!#(as far as we can assume)#ask replies #bloodborne observation #bloodborne headcanons #analysis

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steddieunderdogfics · 1 year ago

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This week’s writer spotlight feature is: @wynnyfryd! Wynnyfryd has 34 fics in the Stranger Things fandom and all of them are in the Steddie tag!

i don’t know, you figure it out

Plot Holes

biting you biting you biting you- oh! kissing you!

Satanic Ritual: DO NOT WATCH!!

She's got some of the FUNNIEST writing in this fandom, and it's very snappy too like. She's an editing demon for sure, she can take a concept that I'd think would take paragraphs to explain and find the right words to make it hit just as hard with like, two sentences. I also really really love how descriptive her metaphors are, really visceral sometimes, and she's really good at writing realistic life events but still making them fun to read about even when it's about like, devastating shit. The sex she writes is also intense as hell! -- @griefabyss69

Below the cut, @wynnyfryd answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

I am but a humble bisexual — I see two beautiful brown-eyed men makin’ beautiful brown eyes at each other, I go a little insane for two years. It is what it is.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

late-night moments of quiet hopeful hesitant intimacy over a shared joint or cigarette. Thin wisp of smoke between them, stars dancing in their eyes. Yeah. YEAHHHHHHH

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

This isn’t really a trope so much as a dynamic, but I love a good dipshit 4 dingus dialogue-heavy scene. Don’t get me wrong, I think Eddie and Steve can both be very smart and knowledgeable in their areas of interest/expertise, but these are two young dudes with no access to the internet. I love letting them be confidently incorrect dumbasses. Just ‘yes and’-ing each other’s stupidity while an exasperated third character begs for mercy.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

Well, this question is impossible and furthermore rude. This question came into my home and didn’t take its muddy boots off. This question never mailed me a thank you letter for my lovely wedding gift. That blender was expensive; the absolute nerve. No but seriously, I think The Lathe by palmviolet is going to stay with me forever.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I’m a big fan of doing canon divergence from different jumping off points — the beauty of having characters live in the same small town their whole lives is that you get so many great opportunities for these “what if our paths crossed sooner” moments. I have some very loose notes for a S3 fic where Eddie is the movie theater employee who finds Steve and Robin in the bathroom after they escape the Russians, and I also have an old WIP set between S1 and S2 where lifeguard Steve rescues Eddie and then spends the summer teaching him how to swim. Would love to revisit those after I finish the trailer park AU (which I will be referring to as TPAU because my fingers are tired and because ‘toilet paper au’ makes me laugh.)

What is your writing process like?

Uhhhhh. 😂 I mean, for TPAU, basically just insert the scene from Dune 2 of Paul’s first sandworm ride: I’m shaking I’m sweating there is sand in my nostrils and I am surely about to die— oh wait, maybe I’ve actually got this? Am I actually doing it? Oh shit, look at me go! For one-shots I like to use a more structured outline and bracket method. I start by dividing my doc into numbered scenes, with each scene getting a notes section and a prose section, like this:

This format gives me a lot of freedom to switch up the order of scenes and to move between scenes so I avoid writer’s block. I can also jump ahead to scenes I really want to write without making a mess of my outline. Once I have something written in the prose section of each scene, I go back and work on replacing each bracket with prose until there are no brackets left. Lastly, I create a new blank doc and copy the prose over in order so I can read the full fic and work on edits from there.

Do you have any writing quirks?

I have been known to abuse a semicolon. And an em dash. And a conjunction at the start of a sentence. Yes, I do have ADHD. I’m also a lyricist, so I feel like my prose tends to stray into poetry territory pretty often.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

When I’m finished! Which is probably why I tend to stick to one-shots; I get impatient and want to post stuff the second it’s ready.

Which fic are you most proud of?

‘i don’t know, you figure it out’ for SURE. I’ve never written a fic this long or stuck to a writing project this consistently in my life. Like ever. The last time I even came close was my first NaNoWriMo when I was 16, which was, uh… years ago, plural, and I’ll leave it at that. 😂

How did you get the idea for i don’t know, you figure it out?

“There’s a dead rat on his doorstep.” That’s it. That first sentence/scene popped into my head while I was bored at work, and then I started thinking, “hey, you know what? I don’t know that anyone’s ever done a fic where Max and Steve trade places for S4; that might be fun.” And then NaNoWriMo was coming up, so I thought it would be cool to try live posting a fully improvised fic every day for a month to see how many words I could write. And then this tragic wet cat version of Steve Harrington grabbed me by the throat and took over my whole life.

When writing Satanic Ritual: DO NOT WATCH!!, what was something you didn’t expect?

How SAPPY these two got!! My god, boys, I’m trying to write smut over here, stop having a beautiful existential crisis! (I blame Briston Maroney for that though lol, I think I listened to ‘Body’ like 1400 times that month.)

What inspired Satanic Ritual: DO NOT WATCH!!?

@inklessletter posted this totally gorgeous art of Steve and Eddie recording themselves kissing, and I promptly lost my mind.

What was your favorite part to write from biting you biting you biting you- oh! kissing you!?

This exchange: Steve: “What? I’m just asking!” Robin: “You’re being embarrassing!” Steve: “No, you’re just embarrassed. There’s a difference.” Like it’s just so them lmao

How do/did you feel writing i don’t know, you figure it out?

You know when you set out on a long hike in the summer and three hours later your calves are screaming and you’re covered in sweat and your sunburn’s starting to itch and this one horse fly won’t fuck off and your cell phone doesn’t even get service out here so literally WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO YOURSELF, and then you climb that last hill and look out on the most beautiful landscape you’ve ever seen in your silly little life? Basically that.

What was the most difficult part of writing Plot Holes?

Ooh, that one was fun! The only real difficulty was trying to keep it to a microfic because the concept could definitely be fleshed out to a full story — @griefabyss69 and I were joking around about “what if someone did ‘plot hole’ for the @steddiemicrofic prompt fill?” and then that fic just fell out of my head in about 15 minutes.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

For sure! I’m currently super proud of the graveyard scene in the most recent update of TPAU — I don’t write true horror often, but I love horror so it was really fun to give it a try! Favorite line from any fic is probably this reference to ‘You’re Divine’ in my fic Monsoon Season because I love uncomfortably-aroused prude Eddie, and his internal monologue cracks me up every time I think about it: Freddie Monsoon’s debut novel is called The Fourth Chime, and it is, as far as Eddie can tell, the first installment in a series of unapologetically filthy fuck fests about a man whose lover gets flung into an alternate dimension during an apocalyptic event and miraculously returns as some sort of… sexy bat-boy with a fucking horse dong and a bite kink. Critics are calling it “the most romantic novel of the last decade.” It’s me; I’m Critics.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

My main project right now is finishing TPAU if it kills me, but beyond that, I have a few one-shots for @subeddieweek in the works, including a collab with @griefabyss69 that I’m so so SO excited to share. It’s hot, it’s funny, I can’t wait for y’all to read it.

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

First of all, as @wormdebut would say: I think you’re pretty. Thank you so much for all your hard work! I love this blog, and I love answering questions <3 Secondly: - Preheat your oven to 400 degrees. - Toss cubed sweet potatoes and parsnips, sliced sweet onion, and fresh garlic in a mix of olive oil, salt, pepper, and rosemary, and then spread in a single layer on a foil-lined baking sheet. - Bake for ~40-45 minutes. (Potatoes and parsnips should be soft without being mushy when you poke them with a fork.) - Prep your sauce: I made a dijon drizzle situation by mixing olive oil mayo, a dash of dijon mustard, lemon juice, salt, pepper, garlic powder, and a splash of water, but you could also add a little dab of hot sauce, bbq sauce, or different mustards. Basically just grab like four condiments out of your fridge and play around with the flavors you like until you make a mix that’s thin enough to pour. - Drizzle roasted veggies with sauce. - Enjoy a very tasty side dish (or do what I did and eat the whole sheet as a meal like some sort of parsnip goblin because you were too lazy to make the main dish after chopping all those veggies) okay thank you love you byeeeee

Thank you to our author, @wynnyfryd, and our nominator, @griefabyss69! See more of Wynnyfryd's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

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