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delwrites · 4 months

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HI HI james is my pookie rn too and I'm craving fics so !!!!

consider. James with a really studious kinda reader (I'm thinking Ravenclaw but house doesn't have to be specified), academic rivals to lovers? like reader gets the best scores in most subjects but just can't manage to beat James in transfigurations? perhaps one day they find themselves struggling so much they just HAVE to ask him for help (as much as they hate to admit it) and they realize he's actually not as insufferable as they thought he'd be... then study sessions (cough dates cough) get more frequent and I think you can imagine where this is heading

hope you understand what I'm trying to say ^_^ you don't have to write this if you're struggling or don't feel like it but thanks in advance if you do 💋💋

an- i have to be honest, i didn’t write this alone… @koishua posted a list of prompts for academic rivals and i used a few, big shoutout to them thank you so much, they helped a bunch <3 this request was amazing, thanks babe!

James Potter loved to get on your nerves.

The smug bastard had seen how good you were in all your subjects, so he just loved to hold your greatest shame over your head; transfigurations. That bitch.

His annoying attitude paired with his holier-than-thou perspective vexed you to no end. But what irritated you the most was how genuinely gifted he was, when you could barely understand the simplest of spells. It was unlike you, and he knew it, and gosh he loved to rub your face in it. You dreaded every upcoming test, and no matter how hard you studied, it made no difference when it came to putting the theory into practice. You hated him and his smug fucking face.

His smug, handsome face.

Before you had spoken to him, you almost could’ve sworn your heart jumped in your chest a little. Before he had opened his fat gob, you’d almost thought you actually found him sufferable. Oh how wrong you’d been.

“Exam coming up, sweetheart. I can’t wait to rub my superiority in your face, again!” You rolled your eyes as James took his respective seat next to you. Regrettably, you’d allowed him to be your seatmate, the first day of lessons your eyes following him as he smoothly slid down on the shared desk next to you. You didn’t realise, at the time, just what you were getting yourself in for.

“Oh shut it, Potter, this time is the time I get you back, just you wait.” You spat his name out with as much venom as you could fathom, before he let out a surprisingly loud laugh at your words.

“Please, oh I’d love to see that!” The bastard. You’d show him, you just had to.

The next day was the first time where this pointless rivalry had faltered, it almost made you like him. Almost. You were sick, in bed all day with a flu that was going around. It was hardly anything serious, you weren’t exactly bedridden, but you didn’t want to pass it on to any of your respective classmates (although you wouldn’t mind poisoning a certain one).

It was late afternoon, just after last period, when a certain displeasing bespectacled boy was at your dorm room door, rasping a melodious knock that tore a groan from your throat.

“Come in!” He peeked his head around the door, a cheery expression faltering at your state, before coming back tenfold, a detail you missed having your arm thrown over your eyes.

“You had no right to get sick!” He all but whined. You looked at him incredulously, baffled by his sudden outburst.

“Who am I supposed to annoy now?”

“Well I didn’t mean to get sick!” You reply, exasperated by his antics, and the annoying tone his voice was piercing your brain with.

He smirked at you, happy you still had your argumentative nature with him, even in your state, before handing you a bundle of parchment.

“Uh, here.” He gives you a lopsided grin, best he could muster for you right now, before clasping his hands behind his back, rocking himself back and forth from the balls to the heels of his feet.

Upon reading the parchment, you instantly knew what he’d done. You furrowed your brows upon glancing over his notes (in aggravatingly nice handwriting, might you add).

“What, and the joke is they’re all wrong or something?” you say, clearly irritated, waiting for him to get to the point, hit you with the punchline.

“No! No, I just, um, want my win to be a fair one, you know? Can’t have you falling behind, can we?” By this point, his feet had planted firmly beside your bed, hand going up to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly.

“I, uh, used my best handwriting and everything. I know you always complain about how ‘illegible’ it is so I, y’know, wanted to make sure you could read them…” he says, his hand then gesturing to the aforementioned papers in your grasp. All you could do was stare at them, trying to figure out his real intentions. James Potter wouldn’t just do something nice for you, would he?

Upon your silence, his brain scrambles to fill it, “You can read it, right?”. You feel a smile fighting onto your face, a genuine, stupid smile trying to unabashedly show itself.

“Uh, yeah, yeah I can read it, idiot. Um seriously, I- thank you?”

“Wow, don’t have to sound so genuine.”

“No, James, seriously, it, um, it means a lot…” your eyes stick onto the post at the end of your bed, your duvet suddenly feeling suffocatingly warm.

James can’t help but feel stunned at your use of his actual name. It felt silly, but he could feel your resolve crashing down before him, it made his own rear its head into the room, before he heard your door open, signalling his departure.

“Right, well I’ll, uh, see you later.” He gives you his best grin, teeth and all, before scooting past your friend to go back to his friends, a confusing blush covering his cheeks. Shit.

Your next lesson back, you couldn’t help but feel your anger tenfold. You had read over his notes and, for fucks sake, they were amazing. You already had a better understanding of the subject just after two, maybe three sides of parchment. I mean wow, what a dickhead. A super smart, super hot dickhead. You took your spot next to him, not daring to give him a glance.

“Woah, you’re awfully quiet. Finally realise I’m so much better than you at this?” He turns to you, smug smirk on his lips that you just wanna smack (kiss) off his stupid face. You turn to him as well, so suddenly that he almost flinches.

“Teach me.”

It certainly wasn’t what he was expecting you to say, but if it led to you here, now, like this, then boy was he glad. You were sitting practically thigh to thigh in the library after school, you requesting his help right up until dinner (or however much of it you could take until then).

After around two hours of his help, you hated to say that you were already seeing improvement on your behalf. You’d never seen him so serious, not shy to crack jokes of course, but you could tell he was genuinely trying to help you. There were points where you couldn’t help but get distracted, watching his hands run over the pages, using them to further drive his points home, not shying away from the proximity like you desperately wanted him to. Every time you asked him to repeat himself, he’d poke your side, asking if he’s going too fast for you (not quite as teasingly as you’d expect him to, though), before repeating himself in a way that he deemed would make things more clear for you. It’s his fault, anyway. If he hadn’t been so close, so touchy, you wouldn’t get distracted in the first place. Hell, you could practically feel his breath on your neck. Despicable. You could only pray he couldn’t feel your heart rate speeding up, body temperature rising. If he knew the reason for your getting distracted, he sure as hell wasn’t showing it, at least having the decency of saving you the embarrassment.

It all came to an end (sadly) when Remus came into the library, looking for a particular book and finding more than he bargained for. A smirk overcame his face, before walking over to you both, bending next to James’ ear to mutter a quick “Sirius has been looking for you,” and leaving you both to your devices as he continued scouring the library for his book, discreetly eyeing you both up.

“Thanks again for, y’know, everything.” You say awkwardly, wringing your hands together in a manner which had his eyebrows creasing, lips in a straight line before sucking in a sharp breath, replying with a genuine, “Hey, I get it. Having a reputation to uphold and what-not, it can be a lot…” You just nod, eyeing up his face for any indication of him not meaning what he was saying, sniffing out any traces of a potential trap.

“No really, you make a great teacher.” You beam up at him, the closeness of him making your breath catch in your throat, faces so close you could almost…

“I am brilliant, aren’t I?” Moment ruined.

You let out a genuine (albeit, surprised) laugh in his face before gathering your ink and quill, putting all the parchment used into your bag and holding out a hand to him.

“Truce?”

“Truce.”

#james potter fluff #james potter #james potter x reader #james x reader #james x you #academic rivals #academic rivals to lovers #enemies to lovers #enemies to friends to lovers #marauders x reader #marauders fluff #marauders era #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter

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inphront · 6 months

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y’know i’m writing this fic and it’s making me think that maybe we don’t recognize enough as a fandom that a lot of harrow’s guilt and shame, which make her light years more sympathetic as a character, are a.) not actually that moral, b.) directly caused by the ninth, and c.) probably shared with her parents, the only characters in the whole series that i’ve never seen a single post trying to humanize/analyze as complex. like. harrow hates herself for what her parents did and honestly? the most likely reason for this is just that kids subconsciously recognize themselves as extensions of their parents, and *her parents probably hated themselves for what they did.* regularly explaining your crimes against humanity to your five-year-old but only being willing to discuss it in the terms of it being a horrible sin and having to take a ritual cleansing bath every single time is the action of a very guilty person. i have to imagine that those saltwater baths probably included some really intense self-flagellation on the part of harrow’s parents that she internalized. i’d venture so far as to say that their suicides were motivated by guilt over the massacre just as much as by shame over the opening of the tomb.

harrow’s sense of constant guilt is so often seen as proof of her having overcome the imperial morality pushed by the houses, and that makes sense given the fact that she *has* taken a viewpoint by the end of the series that opposes imperial morality, but also, guilt is like the main export of the ninth house. harrow’s relationship to it, even once it stops being something she projects onto gideon or otherwise externalizes, is fundamentally ninth and ties her to what she herself acknowledges as “the worst flaws of her house.” ultimately it is something she inherited just as much as the 200, which to me provokes a lot of questions about how her parents actually coped with the consequences of their own fucked-up actions. gideon experienced that coping as just straight cruelty, but we know that harrow got a much more complex window into their feelings and behaviors, and my guess is those behaviors bore distinct resemblance to hers.

i have to wonder what sorts of systemic pressures were falling on them and their house that led to them killing off a whole generation, and what sort of transformations they underwent. how *do* you live with yourself knowing that the blood of so many innocent people, people you were responsible for *protecting,* is on your hands? how could you possibly raise a well-adjusted child when she’s basically a mirror into an atrocity you could’ve hardly fathomed up till the day you committed it? do you think they tried to? i think they probably tried to, but ultimately being a good parent doesn’t change being a mass murderer, and it’s impossible to pull off at all when the mass murder is so directly tied to your hopes for your child. the ninth’s entire purpose within the empire is to carry the weight and memory of one of the most horrible things john ever did, to *inherit the mass death and necromantic subjugation of the earth.* in this capacity, harrow’s parents are *victims* of the empire and its doctrine around death who proceeded to perpetuate both the mass death and necromantic subjugation AND the task of bearing the burden of shame onto their next generation. i don’t really know where i’m going with this aside from “the ninth’s cycle of violence is based in shame and is an extension of john’s disbelief in forgiveness, which means harrow can’t break it without forgiving something unforgivable; it’ll be interesting to see how she manages such a difficult task,” and “i think we oughtta talk about the politics of guilt as it applies to the entire reverend family dynamic”

#tlt #harrowhark nonagesimus #priamhark noniusvianus #pelleamena novenarius #phron’s locked tomb essays #phron speaks

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chronically-ghosted · 1 year

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Little Monsters

rating: 18+ Explicit

pairing: dieter x f!reader

word count: 5K

summary: A phone call home to your family has you missing them desperately . . . especially your husband, who always knows exactly what you need.

warnings/tags: pregnancy, Dieter has children and is actually a really good dad, director!reader, 1st half is mind numbing tooth rotting FLUFF, 2nd half is straight filth and dieter has a nasty nasty mouth, masturbation, camera/phone sex, slight breeding kink, one single use of ‘Daddy’, if I had an ounce of shame left in me I would not have posted this

a/n: special shout outs go to @spookyxsam for showing me about how babies work and to @lunapascal and @mysterious-moonstruck-musings for talking me off the daddy dieter ledge. this is my first pregnancy fic and i do not know what came over me (she lied, knowing damn good and well what happened to her brain chemistry)

from @yoursoulsunbreakable 's request: Hello sweetie, congratulations on your milestone <3 Here's my request for the little drabble: 5. “Tell me what you would want to do, if you were here right now.” With our precious Dieter and smutty? Hope it'll inspire you 😘

🤍Masterlist

“Tell me what you would want to do, if you were here right now.”

“Oh, Dieter, I’d – I’d –,”

“Yeah?”

You let out a burst of air from your lips, flopping back against the pillows. “I’d ask you for a foot rub,” you whine into the camera.

He chuckles, the sound a bit garbled through the speakers. He leans forward into the camera, as if trying to see down your body, the angle of the phone against the hotel’s lamp not quite right.

“Is Bravo Baby number three giving you trouble?”

You eye your swelling feet over the steadily swelling bump. Well into your second trimester and the list of shoes in your closet you could still wear is shrinking rapidly. This also happened with your second child and when Dieter made one joke about keeping you barefoot in the kitchen, you nearly threw a butcher’s knife at his head. You stroke the left side of your stomach to preemptively soothe the little brat before they start wailing on that spot all night, sighing into your husband’s sympathetic, pixelated face.

“They’ve been grouchy all day. Tom had to leave me in the car for a bit after we scouted a potential place for the exterior shots to finish taking pictures because somebody was having a grand old time wearing me out.” You narrow your eyes at him through the camera. “As if there was any doubt this was your child.”

This is a constant inside joke between you. Your first kid, a girl, was a beautiful blend of both you and Dieter. His eyes, but your hair, your cheeks, and his nose. He also got to name her – said it came to him after he bought some chocolate and water at the hospital lounge –

“Zelle, Dieter, ‘Zelle’?? Like the money transaction service?”

But you had been too zonked out on painkillers and endorphins to object (you thought it was beautiful at the time), and he signed the papers anyway. Neither of you had come up with a fitting name before then and he swears the instant he held his baby girl in his hands for the first time, it came to him, as if the stars rearranged themselves in the sky with that name. Incurably a romantic at heart – your husband – you found it sweet and also idiotic, but it was too late now.

Your second one, Orion, had his name written down on a post-it note you carried in your purse for months and you made sure to show the nurse when you were admitted. Not that Dieter would intentionally go against the name you had agreed on if the baby was a boy, but there was a slim chance he’d get so caught up in the moment and, with watery eyes, tell the nurse to write something like Mars Bar on the birth certificate.

And, for all that, Orion could have been a carbon copy of you.

The joke started when Dieter picked him up from his crib one night and brought that gurgling little mouth right up to his nose. “Are you sure you didn’t just spontaneously create this one? I don’t see a single hint of me in this little guy.” To which Orion giggled around a drool-damp fist and promptly bopped his father on the nose with it.

“Are you saying you don’t remember what happened the night he was conceived?” You asked with a smirk over your shoulder as you returned some baby bibs to the drawer.

Dieter snorted and slid Orion into the crook of his arm, those onesie-white feet seen kicking over his forearm. “Now Mommy is just being plain silly.”

That was five years ago and you couldn’t exactly deny you were excited for the smell of newborn to be all over your husband again.

“I’ll be glad when we hit the last trimester,” he says, chin propped up on his wrist to stare down at you in his other palm, “so I can wave that doctor’s note in your face when you try to work too hard . . . like you are now.”

You shift onto your side to face him, rolling your eyes. “You only like the third trimester for the sex hormones.”

After spending most of your first pregnancy, and at least half of your second, trying to claw Dieter’s eyes out if he so much as breathed in your direction, he was delighted to find that by month seven, the hellcat who had taken over his wife’s body turned into a needy, whiny little kitten.

Some of the best orgasms of his life come from those months, he swears up and down.

“I’m not going to complain,” he grins, peering down at you from those prescription sunglasses. The Dieter you used to know wore them because he was constantly hungover; your husband wears them because he keeps accidentally misplacing his actual prescription glasses. “All I’m saying is you better be back in time so Daddy can play house with Mommy.”

The shrill cry is heard through the phone, the closed bedroom door, and at least one hallway:

“Is Mommy on the phone?”

Barely a second later, you watch over his shoulder as the door flings open and a wild blur of arms and legs dogpiles Dieter onto the bed. You hear him grunt, the camera flips up to the ceiling, as Zelle and Orion clamor for the phone. Chuckling to yourself, you take up the phone from the bedside table and hold it in your palm as you lean back against the pillows and your children’s faces flash over the small screen.

“Mommy, I made a bug out of noodles and string today.”

“Mommy, I saw a cat that looked like a cow today.”

“Mommy, Daddy’s broccoli tasted funny - you cook it better!”

“Hey!” He lunges for Zelle’s little ankle and pulls her up around her waist as she giggles helplessly.

You can barely see them, Orion’s pudgy little finger over most of the camera, Dieter’s hair and Zelle’s kicking feet visible only in flashes.

“You better go help your sister, Orion!”

Needing no other prompting, he drops the phone against the pillows and leaps onto his father, squealing at the noise Dieter makes. Where Orion got your looks, he had all of his father’s mannerism. You blinked twice when as a toddler Orion’s purposeful pout had looked so similar to his father’s, you wondered if they had practiced it together. Orion is ruthless when it comes to the tickle wars and immediately goes for Dieter’s neck.

“Help!” he chokes, “I’m being overrun by tiny monsters!”

Zelle roars at his hip and Orion howls – he’d be a werewolf for Halloween a third year in a row if the tradition continued. Despite more frequent and loud protests about his poor back, Dieter lunges forward and yanks Zelle under his arm like she’s a football. He does the same to Orion and faceplants with both of them successfully pinned. It’s the oldest trick in the book and you muse what he’s going to do when they are too big to do that to anymore. But, as Dieter likes to say, one colossal nightmare at a time.

“Peace treaty?” His voice is muffled by the blanket.

“Stand and deliver,” they repeat, breathlessly and red faced. He lets them go and the two bodies barely move, grins still plastered to their faces. Cheeks pink, Dieter crawls over and snags the phone.

“See, darling?” he says between heavy breaths, “this parenting stuff is easy.”

“Mommy, when are you coming home?” Zelle pops her head between Dieter and the phone, her cheek pink and her little hands pushing her hair off her face.

“Yeah!” Orion pipes up, crawling over Dieter’s back, hooking his tiny hands over his father’s throat. Dieter’s eyes bug out for a moment before adjusting the five year old’s grip. “Are you done chasing the dragon?”

At that, Dieter snickers and you can’t glare with fire in your eyes like you’d like to so you plaster on an overly sweet smile on your face.

“Rori, we asked you not to say that. It’s a stork, remember?”

Orion frowns into Dieter’s curls. “But I want a baby brother or sister that comes from a dragon’s egg.”

“Yeah, Mom, a dragon baby is way cooler than a stork baby.”

Oh, you are going to kill him.

This was another ongoing joke . . . for Dieter. Orion’s teacher called home one night after Orion proudly announced that his mommy was off chasing the dragon. Understandably concerned about the phrase, she called to make sure everything was alright, only to find out what he meant was that his mother was expecting a new baby and instead of a stork, his father told him that Mommy was going to find a dragon to put a new egg inside her tummy, and then the new baby would eventually pop out from the egg.

This was something you had to relay through the phone to the teacher . . . because Dieter was curled up on the floor, laughing so hard he went mute, tears rolling down red cheeks. This had been his ‘stork’ story for Orion, and apparently unaware of just how impressionable a five-year-old is, told him that Mommy was chasing the dragon for a new egg. Dieter says his greatest regret in his life is that he wasn’t there to see the look on Orion’s teacher’s face.

After that, you (and Dieter once he recovered) tried to alter the story enough so that he wouldn’t accidentally imply his mother was off on a drug binge, but evidently too much stuck.

“I’m meeting with the dragon tomorrow, okay? I’m not chasing after anything. We’re having lunch. Right, Dad?”

“Absolutely.” He nods seriously at Orion and kisses that fat little cheek.

“When is the dragon gonna give you the egg with my baby sister in it?” Zelle asks, matching Dieter on her stomach. Dieter’s confidence manifested perfectly in his daughter; you and him had told her many times that the baby might be a little brother, but she just stuck her nose in the air. “I know it’s a sister,” she said, with a characteristic roll of her eyes.

“A couple more months, baby,” you smile, unconsciously rubbing at your stomach again. Baby Bravo is suspiciously quiet. Not soon enough. “But I’ll be home tomorrow, but you two have to be good for Dad until then, okay?”

Orion nods from Dieter’s shoulder, but Zelle smirks up at her father in a way that is well beyond her six years.

“I promise to eat all of Daddy’s nasty broccoli!”

Dieter’s own impish nature, thrown right back at him. The one solace you found is that your husband might have finally met his match.

He grabs her, flips her on her back, and blows a strawberry on her tummy as she shrieks with glee.

“Alright – that’s it – it’s bath time for all naughty monsters!” He hikes Orion over his shoulder and picks up Zelle by her waist. He glances back over at you, his eyes bright and a giant smile on his face.

You swear every time you see Orion, there’s less and less baby in his pudgy face, his little hands. Zelle is constantly saying and doing things that surprises you with the depth of their awareness and you know it doesn’t all come from you or Dieter.

Your heart actually aches from missing them so much.

“Monsters, say goodnight to Queen Monster–,” more yelling, roaring, “I’ll call you later tonight, okay, baby?”

You nod, your eyes suddenly hot and tight. “O-okay – love you all.”

“LOVE YOU!” The three-headed monster yells in unison as it lumbers out of the bedroom.

You end the call, just before the tears spill. Again on your back, you stare at the ceiling feeling incredibly sorry for yourself when the baby rolls over and kicks you in the ribs.

Hey, I’m here too!

You laugh, a little watery, and you wipe your eyes with your palms. Just get through tonight and you’re home.

“Okay, okay, I’m up. Let’s get ready for bed, would you like that?”

It’s late. You know you should be asleep already, but the shower had taken longer than expected. The phone call with your husband and children lingered in your mind when you turned on the water and stripped down. Your heart was so full to see Orion’s pout and Zelle’s mischievous grin, especially after such a long day on your feet and for all his teasing, Dieter’s own ease and confidence as a father, as well as a husband, left you feeling . . . warm. In fact, your mind’s eye lingers on him in the memory of the call: his beautiful, rich curls – those square black glasses that made him look annoyingly mysterious and so goddamn hot – his biceps flexing as he throws around his children with ease, his shoulders broad and straining against his shirt — his bulging forearm making his triangle tattoo pop – his wedding ring that replaced all the other rings –

The good news is the baby was almost here. The bad news is that you’re suddenly irrationally horny and your all-too-eager husband was a plane ride away.

Entirely naked besides the white hotel robe around your shoulders, you sternly ignore the plush tingling between your legs and try to focus on rubbing in lotion into your legs, your hips, over the old and new stretch marks over your stomach. Your fingers rub underneath the curve of your stomach and accidentally brush the damp curls, sending tiny shock waves up your pelvis. You gasp lowly, freezing, eyes tightly shut, fighting back that wave of arousal.

Goddamn it.

At first you think the ringing is between your ears, your blood rushing hard and fast, and then you realize it’s actually your phone going off.

Daddy Dieter, the screen reads.

You frown at the clock – if it’s late for you, then it’s very late for him. When he said he’d call you later, you didn’t think he meant literally later tonight. Still frowning, you put down the bottle of lotion and answer the phone.

“Dieter?”

“Hey, baby. How’s your night?”

He pulls back the phone and your mouth flushes with spit. He’s shirtless, sunglasses replaced with his actual glasses, that silver earring glinting in the low light. In the center of your bed, he’s propped up on several pillows with his arm tucked behind his head. He has thickened over the years, his chest and shoulders taking on a new weight as if he physically grew into fatherhood — and God, if his bicep was bulging before –

“Dieter –,” your voice is hoarse at first and you have to clear your throat to get anything out of your mouth that isn’t a whine. “Dieter, what are you doing up?”

He shrugs like he’s just been bored at home. “Bath time was easy. Orion wanted just one story and Zelle didn’t put up a fight when I told her it was bedtime and she had to put away the crayons.”

You narrow your eyes. “Did you slip them Benadryl?”

“Wow! No! Did you ever think that maybe I’m just that good of a dad?” He scoffs, mildly offended. And then he smirks. “I told them you’d come home sooner if they were good.”

“Ah, the old Santa Claus trick.” You nod sagely and sit down on the edge of the bed, the movement tugging the robe slightly. “Always a classic.”

“Yeah, I –,” Dieter’s eyes widen, edges going dark. “Are you naked?”

You swallow, his sudden shift in tone causing your thighs to clench. You cross your legs as tightly as your belly will allow, your chin held high.

“I’m in a robe, Dieter. Took a long shower.”

His eyes glitter with interest, the tip of his tongue running on the edge of his bottom lip. “How long?”

Feeling hot and swollen for months now, you flush pink, an overripe peach beneath the slightest pressure of his thumb.

“Dieter–,” it’s a whine but you shake your head. “Please don’t tease. I’m so . . . sensitive right now, and I won’t be home until tomorrow and–,”

“Baby, baby, breathe. I know it hurts.” He sits up, his eyes big and dark. “I remember how wet you get around now.”

Your cunt drools onto the robe below you, thighs sticky, his words ringing in your ears.

“Dieter, don’t –,”

“I know I can’t help you but what if I showed you how to help yourself?”

You whimper, arousal now hot and warm in the pit of your stomach. The strength of it makes your pelvis ache. You know it won’t be the same as him, but his voice, it might be enough. You nod, your heart pounding, hand holding the phone shaking.

“Then lie back, baby.” Dieter purrs and it’s almost like he’s pushing you back with his hands. You shift up the bed, careful to not step on your robe with your heels as you center yourself in the covers. But Dieter’s moving, off the bed, and he’s adjusting something behind his phone.

The baby inside you can feel your heartbeat racing and they turn, uneasy. You soothe them with small circles just above your hips, your lips between your teeth. But that touch on your skin, the look in Dieter’s eyes, you brush lower on your skin and immediately you shudder.

“Baby, please, hurry, whatever you’re doing, hurry –,”

You drop your fingers over your thighs, curling and uncurling, drawing imaginary lines like he does in the mornings against your shoulders and back.

“Just a second, sorry, almost got it.”

Then he steps back, the phone hovering in the air. Dieter sits on the bed and the camera holds the entire bed in view. Dieter is nothing if not a performer, bringing a tripod into the bedroom when he knows you need him the most. He’s so fucking hot.

“Can you see me, baby?”

You nod stiffly. “How do you want me?”

“Whatever way is comfortable,” he smiles and it’s almost as hot as his smirk. Fuck, he loves you so much. You slide the robe off your shoulders, exposing the tops of your breasts as best you can and still keeping your phone up. “Perfect, baby, that’s perfect.”

Your hand drops to your thigh again, dragging your nails up under the swell of your belly and you twitch.

“T-tell me what you would want to do,” you begin, your voice shaking, arousal smooth as it licks up your spine, “if you were here right now.” You feel warm all over, the sheets cool against your calves.

This far away, you can’t see his eyes clear enough to watch them darken entirely, but his low grunt is enough. It’s time for him to perform for his pregnant and insatiable wife.

He slips his glasses off and tosses them onto the bedside table, where they land with a clatter. You can’t even think of scolding him when he lifts his hips and yanks his gray sweatpants down his knees, then to the floor. He’s half-hard as he shuffles back to the pillows, nearly in the same position you are. You shift to match him entirely, needing the immersion to be total and complete. You’d cry if he could actually touch you.

“Are you comfortable?”

You nod again. But Dieter shakes his head, his fingers digging into his thighs. “I can’t see you this far away, baby. I need you to say it. Talk to me.”

He was usually the one vocal enough for both of you, any coherent language impossible with the mess he makes out of you. You can’t imagine what you’re going to sound like, not when you’re this needy and desperate already.

“O-okay, Dieter, I’ll try.”

“Good girl.” You whimper again, trying to restrain from touching yourself before he tells you to. But you’re throbbing, the heat blooming from your cunt rushing to the rest of your body, the baby in you restless. As if mother and child can only be soothed by their father. “Now, breathe, darling, you’re flushed.”

You inhale, the air notching on every bone in your spine, and exhale, your lungs shuddering, eyes shut. “Dieter, please, tell me what you’d –,”

“I’d touch your thighs,” he says with such immediacy, your eyes spring open. He’s got the knee farthest from you bent up, as if putting himself on display, turning his hips towards the camera slightly. His other leg is stretched out long beside him and his left hand strokes his cock. Hair and shoulders backlit from the far lamp, the image of him like this alone — just for you — has your cunt clenching, a moan spilling from your lips. “Touch your thighs, baby.”

You can’t grab as much skin as he does, but you try. You lift your knees, and massage the backs of your thighs, then up to your knees, and back down. You can almost feel his breath on your calves and you shudder. “What else? W-where else?”

“I’ve been thinking about your tits for days,” he groans, the sound strangled, his cock now fully-hard and red. He cups himself, twisting as slow as he can take it. “Tell me what your tits feel like.”

“Sensitive,” you gasp as you draw two fingers across your nipple and squeeze gently. Dieter only uses his mouth now on them, so you wet them with yours and return them to your swollen bud, slowly twisting and pulling.

He’s watching you through the camera, eyes wide, breath sharp when you suck your fingers into your mouth. “Fuck, yeah, that’s right. Get them wet. What are you thinking about?”

“You. Your lips around my nipple, under my breast. Your teeth. They’re so heavy, Dieter.”

His hips jerk under his hand, his fingers moving faster now. You can’t quite hear what he’s muttering, but you catch weak mumblings, “gonna feed our baby”, “yeah, your tits”, the baby” —

“Dieter, please–,”

“Touch yourself with your fingers wet from your mouth. T-t-tell me what it feels like.”

With a relieved cry, you slide your hand down from your tits, over the swell of your belly, and in between your thighs. Wetness clings to the curls, to the curve of your ass, your body so ready to take him, and it locks up when you slip a finger inside.

“So wet. Warm. How many fingers can I put in?”

“One, but – can you already do two?”

You nod, the huff arching into a whine. “Yeah, baby. You have no idea how wet I am. I can slip in two with no resistance.”

“Jesus,” he pants and slows down, his hips rocking of their own accord. “You’ve got me so hard.”

You curl your fingers inside of you, searching for that spot made and found and praised by him. Your folds plump and achy, you twist your wrist, scissor your fingers, but it’s not the same. It’s not the same as his three fingers plugging you up, readying you to take so much of him, it’s enough to ease the sharp ache for a bit. You moan, fucking yourself more. He hears it, sees it, and grunts.

“You can come wherever you want, baby,” he murmurs, his own hand hesitant to match your speed. He tugs on his balls and his toes curl, his neck long and tense. “Fuck, I need your hands.”

“Me too,” you sob, real tears pricking the corners of your eyes. It feels good but it’s not the relief you need. It’s pathetic but you don’t want to stop. You can’t get in deep enough, even if you could get around your big belly. “Dieter, I can’t reach. It’s – I’m –,”

“Breathe, love, it’s okay.” His voice is soothing, calming. The same one he uses when you’re in labor and the sweet honey warmth of it sinks into your bones, easing the panic. You slow, gasping, tears pooling down your temple. Your orgasm is harsh, sunken in the dark, waiting for you to draw it out.

“What can you reach?”

“My clit.”

“Then touch that. Can I see?”

You nod, angle the phone down as you rub that electric nub.

“Oh, fuck, baby. I know it’s frustrating and I know it hurts, but you look so fucking good. So wet for me. Your pussy is perfect, pink, just how I like her.”

“Yeah?” you spin your fingers faster. That hot arousal returns steadily, melting back the resentment towards your own body the longer he praises.

“Oh yeah.” You can hear the slap of skin on the other end of the phone and you can picture Dieter flat on his back jerking himself off to your pulsating cunt and you moan, loudly, tension evaporating from your body. “How do you feel?”

“Good. Tight. I just need a bit more.”

“Me too. Let me see your face, pretty girl.” You turn the camera and gape at the sight on the screen.

Precum drips out of his now-purple cock, his chest flushed and neck sweaty. He’s twirling the head around with his thumb at the pace you’ve set with your fingers against your clit.

“Look at what you’ve done to me. You’re so fucking gorgeous. Can’t wait for you to be home so I can eat you out for hours.”

“I want your cock in me, Dieter,” you gasp, furiously rubbing on your clit, sending wave after wave of pleasure coursing through you. Your cunt clenches in time with your thudding heartbeat. “You’re so thick. I wanna feel the stretch.”

“Oh, I’m gonna fuck you hard.” The confession is a low snarl, a promise made between the ridges of his teeth. He fucks his fist faster, the noise over his labored breathing obscene. “Gonna put your hands on the headboard, your pussy in my lap and I’m gonna fuck up into you until I fill you full again. Wanna make you pregnant twice.”

Arousal floods your veins, your thighs a gooey mess. You toss your head back, back arching, and you moan as loud as you can.

“Oh– shit, oh, oh, shit–,”

“You’re gonna leak all over my thighs and when you’re done coming so hard you can’t see straight, I’m gonna lick it up all off you, my wife. Mine. My baby. Mine. Fuck, you look so good full of me.”

He’s never this possessive, never angry that he can’t have you but he sounds livid. He fucks his fist, his hips bucking into nothing, his other hand squeezing his thigh so hard his knuckles go white.

You circle your clit one more time and finally — your orgasm crests, your body locking up, your cunt gushing – and it leaves your mouth before you can stop it –

“Oh, Daddy–,”

You hear him gasp as if electrocuted, and you have to drop your phone to steady yourself as the weight of white-hot pleasure explodes across your body. You rock, breath gone from your lungs, mouth open in a silent scream, and everything slams back into you and you gasp, high and loud, every inch of your skin hot and trembling. You don’t realize you’re sweating until you feel it drip off your neck.

All you can hear is Dieter panting from your phone amongst the covers, the sound muffled. Your eyes flutter as the warm waves languish, then curl, and finally, you sigh as the last waves drain out of your body. If you weren’t lying down you’re sure you’d be dizzy.

“Oh my god,” you mutter breathlessly to no one in particular.

“B-baby, you still there?”

You blindly feel around for your phone, arm so weak it’s trembling as you pull the camera towards your face

Dieter looks about as fucked out as you feel. Cock limp and still dribbling, his stomach and chest are covered in cum. He pushes his damp hair off his forehead, eyes wide and staring at the ceiling.

“Holy shit, baby, that was …”

“Yeah,” you nod, swallowing your dry tongue, wishing again he was here so he could get you a glass of water. “I hope that wasn’t all of it because I really want you to say all of those things again tomorrow when you’re inside me.”

He groans and adjusts his limp cock. “You say that now but wait until Baby Bravo kicks you in the kidneys. You’ll be feeling a lot less generous towards this,” he gestures aimlessly to his naked body, “then.”

You chuckle. “Let’s just hope for the best. Besides,” you say, groaning a bit as you sit up to wipe the sweat off your neck with the robe, “I’m pretty sure I can have you eating out of the palm of my hand. Now that I know your secret . . . Daddy.”

Dieter groans as you laugh. He shakes his head. “You shouldn’t be so surprised by now when you make me discover new kinks.”

“Mhmm hmm.”

He rolls his eyes as he gets up and picks the phone off the tripod. Holding the phone to his face, he wipes the cum off with his sweatpants before turning his attention back to you.

“How are you? Feel better?”

“Much better.” You stretch and lean back in the bed. If he was here, you’d probably be asking to eat you out, but at least the knife’s edge of desire has dulled. You can at least wait until nap time to jump your husband’s bones.

“Good,” Dieter sighs, satisfied. “I’ll be there to pick you up from the airport tomorrow, okay?”

He always gets like this the nearer the due date comes, as if he can’t stand to see you lift a finger unnecessarily. You smile and nod, never wanting it to be any other way.

“I’ll text you when I land.”

“Okay. Good night, my biggest love. I love you, so much.”

“I love you too, Dieter.” Goddamn hormones, making you cry again.

“Now lemme say goodbye to our little traveler.”

You wipe your eyes with your thumb as you tilt the phone to your swollen belly.

“Good night, Baby Bravo. Can’t wait to have you around.”

And, at the sound of their father’s voice, they stir. Not kick or hurt. Just a tiny foot against your tight skin.

You are officially crying now.

“They said hi, didn’t they?”

You’re nodding, crying, and he can’t see a damn thing. “Yeah,” you say quietly. “They said good night, Dad.”

He’s patient with you as you wipe your eyes, cheeks flushed again.

“Baby, don’t cry, you’re breaking my heart.”

“You’re just a really good dad. And I’m so lucky,” you blubber. “This is it! I’m never leaving to go scouting again. I can’t take it.”

“Mhmm. Let’s revisit that when you’re about two months postpartum and clawing at the walls.”

You laugh with him, your own sticky and goopy. “Fine.”

“Go to bed, love, and for the record, I’m the lucky one. Don’t forget that. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Good night.” You blow a kiss and he catches it. You roll your eyes. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

You stay like that for a bit, cradled by the pillows, and your phone on your chest, thinking about everything from Dieter to the next school picture day, to the next family vacation, and of course, the zillion things you have to get done with work before the baby comes — hopefully all from the home office.

She kicks.

You smile, wondering how you and Zelle both just know it’s a girl. Dieter has his own suspicions, he says, but he’s saving them. Orion would probably be thrilled to have a dragon in the family. You snort, hand over the place where she put her little foot.

“I miss them too, sweetie. And once you’re here, we’ll outnumber those silly boys. Maybe we’ll have to get a dog. You’ll like dogs.”

She’s silent, maybe sleeping, maybe thinking about what the heck a dog is. You smile, turn off the lamp, and peel back the covers. The sheets are cool and soft.

You fall asleep, dreaming of little feet, and hands, and wedding rings.

#dieter bravo #daddy dieter #gonna make this an official tag if its the last thing i do #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo x oc #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfic #the bubble fanfic #the bubble #100 followers event

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aemondsvisenya · 2 years

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Hello! I saw you were taking requests for House of the dragon and wanted to request something if that’s okay! I had this idea for quite a while but haven’t been able to find any fics like this. I’d like to request a Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader hurt/comfort fic in which the reader comforts him after Viserys’ death. Maybe she finds him having a breakdown and like breaking things so she goes to hug him (with the head bump thing he does when he hugs people bc that makes me melt) and he just lets go for once. I know this sounds a bit ooc for him but I’ve heard that they cut off the scene in which he cried for Viserys and his daughter and I can’t get over it. I believe Daemon is actually more emotional than how we see in the show and that he feels a lot and is a very complex character. I’d love to see a scenario in which Daemon actually can’t hold his emotions in anymore and someone is there for him. Idk I just love him🫶🏻

Sorry for my english, it’s not my first language. Anyway, take your time and feel free to ignore this if it you’re not really inspired, have a great day!

Hi anon! Of course it’s absolutely okay to request! ☺️ I love this idea so much, oh my gosh - I actually did write a fanfic a couple of months back about Daemon in episode 10 (grieving not only his brother but also his daughter and stepson), and I totally agree that he’s incredibly complex. It’s a shame there were scenes showing his complexity cut from the show!

Anyway, I apologise for it being kind of short but I've been busy with work unfortunately! I also apologise if it sucks!

Grieving | Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of illness/death, angst, hurt/comfort, Daemon using his favourite four letter words beginning with c and f

Also, a note: Obviously this isn't canon-compliant - you're in a relationship with Daemon in this fic, so you could assume he's not married to Rhaenyra but... anyway.

The first thought on your mind when you heard the news of Viserys’ death was not of the inevitable power struggle for who would be the one to seize the throne, of the inevitable war and pain for both sides this would cause, or even your own feelings of sadness at the king’s passing.

No, the only thing on your mind was Daemon.

It didn’t take long for everyone around you to busy themselves with plotting how best to help the king’s named heir take the throne that was rightfully hers, Daemon chief among them; to anyone else, he appeared angry, filled with a dangerous rage that threatened to boil over and destroy everything in his wake, his desire for war and revenge clear. It was true, you admitted; it was obvious that your lover wanted to hurt each and every person who had caused his brother pain, who had disrespected that same brother’s wishes, who had held any part in usurping a niece he held dear. There was no question that Daemon Targaryen wanted revenge or that he would be the one to swing the sword as he sought it.

But you knew him well enough to know that there was more than just anger and hate driving him - everyone thought him a heartless man, incapable of loving or truly caring for anyone, but you knew this assumption couldn't have been further from the truth.

As darkness fell over Dragonstone that evening and the council meetings drew to a close, you saw the Rogue Prince leave quickly; his face was grim, mouth set in a firm line and a hand on the sword he kept with him at all times. No one noticed as you silently slipped away after him, too occupied in their own politics and war to care what you did or where you went - you were of little importance compared to the lords, princes and queen, after all.

You knew immediately where he had gone - there was only one place in the castle he would go now after a long day like this, especially in the aftermath of such news. In no time at all you were standing outside of the chambers the two of you were occupying during your stay, taking a deep breath and steeling yourself before ordering the guard posted outside of the doors to let no one else in unless of an emergency; the knight agreed, bowing his head low as you entered the room.

"FUCK!"

A goblet clashed against a stone wall, thankfully empty and not filled with wine that would stain the rugs. Your prince barely seemed to notice your sudden presence, so consumed by his anguish and rage that it seemed to blind him to all else; you tried not to wince as he next overturned a large table, sending the books and scrolls that had decorated it clattering to the floor in a mess. You had known he would take the news harshly: the king had been his older brother, his only brother or sibling for that matter, and while their relationship had been somewhat uneasy over the years, it was clear that they had loved and cared for each other despite any quarrels or disagreements they may have once had.

He let out snarl, kicking a nearby chair. "Those bastards... those fucking Hightower cunts..." He picked up a nearby vase and threw it to the floor; the object shattered upon impact, something else the servants would have to clean come morning. Most would have been afraid by his behaviour, by this violence - but not you. You knew he would not hurt you, that his actions were merely his way of expressing his pain and hurt.

"Daemon..."

He spared you a glance, enough to acknowledge you, before letting out a harsh exhale and stalking over to the window; he sat on the ledge underneath it, resting an arm against the glass and leaning his head against it. Like this, you could not see his face - but you knew what the small tremors that shook his shoulders meant, what he needed from you even as he tried to hide.

"Oh, love..." You crossed the room and without hesitating cupped his face, turning it towards you. "Come here."

Daemon looked at you once more, his eyes glassy. "My brother..."

"I know," You whispered. "I'm so sorry. I'm certain he knew you were loyal to him, that you loved him - he knew it until the end."

"He's gone," He said, voice thick with emotion that he was only now allowing himself to feel properly. "Viserys is gone."

Your heart broke at the pain in his voice. "It's okay, Daemon... you don't have to be strong here, not with me."

There was a moment's pause before he leaned forwards, forehead gently bumping against your chin as he pressed his face into your chest. As your hands started to run through his hair almost absent-mindedly, knowing that this action helped to soothe him, he began to let go for you; his hands reached for the fabric of your clothes as if to clutch onto you, to hold you closer, and soon the tears came.

Very few people had ever seen the Rogue Prince cry, for he hated to be seen as weak, but the love and years you had spent together meant he trusted you enough to be vulnerable in front of. It didn't take long before his tears turned to quiet sobs, muffled by the way he pressed his face into you; all you could do for now was hold him tight and whisper comfortingly to him, to to be there for him by giving him the freedom he needed to grieve his loss.

Daemon would avenge his brother, of this you had no doubts - but for tonight he allowed himself to let go and mourn, and you were all too willing to be there for him when he needed you most.

#daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x reader #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd imagine #daemon targaryen imagine #hurt/comfort #daemon needs a big hug let's be honest #it feels right that my first request filled is about daemon considering i met matt smith like two and a half months ago

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steddieunderdogfics · 2 months

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This week’s writer spotlight feature is: Cchapsticck! @cchapsticck has 9 fics posted to AO3 in the Stranger Things fandom and all of them are in the Steddie tag!

@dreamwatch recommends the following works by @cchapsticck

UNTITLED RECORDING rcd ca. 1987-1988

ANACRUSIS ca. 1987

RED ATMOSPHERES rcd. 1995

THE UNENDING HOWL EP rcd. 1999

wait, runner

"cchapsticck's Eddie is one of my all time favourites. It's one of the most complex depictions of Eddie I’ve every read; every work is a beautiful character study. Eddie’s history and trauma are laid bare; it feels real, and it hurts. cchapsticck’s writing is just insanely good, lines hit like massive gut punches. I love the METALHEAD series so, so much, and if you're a fan of 'musician Eddie' fics then it's a must read. Every fic is incredible, hit after hit. Writing this good deserves to be celebrated." -- @dreamwatch

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

Why do you write Steddie?

I’ll be honest, it's probably exclusively because of Eddie. I’ve been a fan of Stranger Things since its original release but wasn’t really participating in the fandom side of things until season 4. As a Dungeons and Dragons nerd with an abrasive taste in music myself, of course there was the kindred spirit-ness of Eddie’s introduction to the series, but more than that he made the normal midwestern town of Hawkins feel more a character than a setting to me than it had been previously, and that really amplified my interest in his character and the space he takes up in the narrative environment that were only just then learning about. There were so many implications about him and about Hawkins that were just left on the table that I couldn’t get enough of. Prior to season 4 Steve had been my favorite character, I’d always been invested in his little redemption roadtrip and his “otherness” stumbling blocks over the seasons. How he’s cultivated this arc of rallying against an archetype that’s comfortable but worse for him in the long term - and I found myself really excited by Eddie’s sort-of inversion of that same journey as Steve’s. Both of them still sort of stuck in their ways assigning social value based on arbitrary factors and are comfortable in the more judgmental impulses they have when they first really meet, but they’re coming from opposite perspectives on the nerd/jock hierarchy and the self imposed tensions between them there and what it might take beyond the actual end of the world to overcome those things. I love a mess.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

I wouldn’t say that I’m a reader who specifically seeks out any one particular trope over another in the strictest sense, I have the capacity to be just as invested as an enemies to lovers as I am a childhood friends to lovers, kind of thing. But generally speaking I love a character study - I genuinely enjoy works that have the creators really deeply held headcanons and making a whole world with and around it, I love some angst - I’ll never say no to a little melodrama. I really enjoy work with a really strong point of view, and I like to be sad.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

I love an unreliable narrator, I love a flawed perspective, I love a narrator who lies to themselves (and you, dear reader) a little about what’s going on. I have a lot of fun as a writer getting into the way we talk to ourselves about the things we’re living with and the shapes we bend ourselves into to do the living.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

This is hard, I have read so many impactful fics I could easily fire off 5 right now but for the sake of brevity I will say this: I rotate afterlight by Kostas around in my head like a rotisserie chicken on the regular. There’s such a deeply felt and embodied sense of Eddie’s past throughout, and how it manifests in his present - as well as some genuinely charming details about Eddie’s present and his benign quirks that have only helped compile his bad reputation and how the life he had prior to getting wrapped up in the supernatural fits into the public narrative of canon events. The very nostalgic vibes of fall and what we of the American midwest get up to at that time feel so real. And it's so genuinely sweet, the getting-togtherness, while also being not-that-simple. It has so much going for it, really truly, and navigates and emotional complexity and honesty that I’m envious of as a writer.

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

I’ve written very little about Dungeons and Dragons in all of my writing about Eddie and Stranger Things (I guess a lightweight AU not withstanding?), and that feels like such a missed opportunity for me to have a lot of fun. I’ve been playing Dungeons and Dragons since I was in high school, I have such a deep love for ttrpgs and collaborative storytelling but man, 1e of D&D is so dense and incomprehensible part of me wonders if it's actually really boring to write about to-hit statistics and spreadsheets but alas it stands as a really nerdy sirensong to me.

What is your writing process like?

It's a whole mess. It’s genuinely a wonder I get anything done. I tend to get fixated on granular character things that I want to explore and it all sort of explodes outward from there. I’m almost entirely a stream of consciousness writer, and I usually only loosely have specific beats or emotional landmarks I want to hit when I begin writing but it's a pretty amorphous sense of what I’m trying to write. I tend to write mostly chronologically while I’m in that first pass of story dumping and it’s pretty rare the structure changes dramatically after that. From there I make several editing passes to fix anything from grammatical errors to character voice. I’m pretty sure I could be in the “nit pick it to death” phase forever and have to bully myself into calling it quits in order to publish.

Do you have any writing quirks?

My perspective might be a little flawed, but I think I tend to write without an abundance of plot? I think it's a product of how I write; where there aren’t a series of events that I hope to navigate, but more a series of emotional car crashes I wish to describe? I also make playlists for everything. Sometimes a playlist is 3 hours of music, other times it’s about 4 songs I listen to on a loop while I write. Each of my published works have a pretty distinct “theme song”.

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

Oh, finished writing - no question. I cannot be held to a schedule, I’m so allergic to it. I am horrifically at the mercy of my fickle creative drive. I struggle with writer’s block not infrequently and I’ve definitely put myself in situations writing on a schedule where I felt like I had to brute force my way through the block to meet a publishing goal and ultimately wasn’t happy with what I put out there because I didn’t give myself the kind of time I need to work.

Which fic are you most proud of?

I think that goes to dog at the door. It definitely was the fic that gave me the most trouble, and challenged me the most with what I wanted to accomplish and how it forced me to deviate from my normal writing process, I’ve never written suspense or horror before and I genuinely do not have an objective read on how successful that was. I have mixed feelings about the piece as a whole, but I’m proud of the work and of myself for sticking with it and getting it out there despite the way it challenged and frustrated me at times.

How did you get the idea for UNTITLED RECORDING rcd ca. 1987-1988?

I grew up in the Great Lakes area in the not too distant future of the events of the show in a semi-rural/semi-suburban town that Hawkins always reminded me of. Similarly, I spent a lot of my teenage years in go-nowhere bands and driving around the state at basement shows for other go-nowhere bands and I had been thinking about the kind of community that experience that built for me at that time, and at the time - in the fandom, I was seeing a lot of Rockstar Eddie and I was very charmed by this desire a lot of people in the fandom seemed to be having about affording him a kind of positive notoriety, for once in all of our various hypothetical futures. And that personal reflection of a period of my own life, plus what was spinning around the ecosystem of the fandom at the time sort of coalesced into this character study I wanted to do about The Midwest and Alternative Music and Finding Yourself Authentically within the boundaries of those spaces. Steddie wormed its way into the concept because one, I like it. Two, as much as it's clear that Hawkins is a burden to Eddie and his character, I think the same can be said for Steve, but again, a little in reverse. It's good to leave your hometown, even when you’re comfortable and welcome there. It felt like an appropriate experience for them to both have, together, to different ends.

When writing UNTITLED RECORDING rcd ca. 1987-1988, what was something you didn’t expect?

That there was going to be so much of it! METALHEAD, the series, was initially just the first UNTITLED segment and when I’d wrapped that up I realized there was more I wanted to do. Both with form and I just felt like I wasn’t quite done with this version of Eddie I was writing, it didn’t feel like the whole story even though I felt like I’d written the whole story. No idea if that even makes sense.

What inspired ANACRUSIS ca. 1987?

Honestly, I think I mostly just wanted to try to write Steve’s voice and perspective. I only briefly described the “getting together” moment in UNTITLED and I thought it would be kind of fun to have that exist more concretely, but I’d already established Eddie’s perspective on it by that point and to retell that moment from his perspective felt needlessly repetitive, so there really seemed like there was only one appropriate narrator. And while I was writing it I think I realized I wanted there to be some kind of indicator that despite things going well and being good in UNTITLED, they were still sort of missing each other where they were at, in that moment.

What was your favorite part to write from RED ATMOSPHERES rcd. 1995?

The periodical segments! I actually had a lot of fun looking up back issues of genre magazines from the time. I definitely lost a lot of writing hours just reading Metal Edge. I used to read Kerrang! and AP when I was a teenager and I remembered the articles in those magazines always had a certain kind of journalistic voice and I wanted to try to capture some of that from those periodicals. Ultimately I think I ended up abandoning a lot of that specific tone and erring a little more contemporary with the focus and tone because I wanted the journalistic perspective on Eddie as a sort-of public figure to serve a specific contrast to the reality of his inner life, but it was a fun research project to be sure.

How do/did you feel writing THE UNENDING HOWL EP rcd. 1999?

I think HOWL had about 3 or 4 false starts, I had all these ideas for it to be a lot of different things when I first set out to wrap up METALHEAD and I stalled out on every single one of them. The scope was really broad and I was struggling to pull out anything that felt important in what I was writing. It was really discouraging for a long time because I felt really committed to this final element of the series and I wanted this sort-of catharsis at the end of it all, fragile as it kind of ended up being, but I just could not write something that was working for me. I couldn’t say why or how, but it was actually a The Wonder Years song that made everything click into place about funerals and closure and yadda yadda yadda but up until that moment there was a lot of doubting myself and floundering to finish the series. I think my relationship with HOWL is still a little fragile, as a result of me feeling really insecure about its process, but I think ultimately I’m proud of being able to just to finish an undertaking like METALHEAD.

What was the most difficult part of writing wait, runner?

Fighting the desire to make everything okay! runner started its life as a lot of scrapped sections of UNTITLED and some cut material from my first ST fic, sunflower broke because it became clear to me I was preoccupied with certain elements of Eddie’s inner life; staying in Hawkins, being a pariah, self medication, etc. and so much of that and its place in a post-canon-Eddie-lives world is tremendously bleak. So it felt dishonest to make some kind of unambiguously and clearly happy way forward, but the self loathing and self doubt I was writing in that piece felt so oppressive I kept catching myself trying to mitigate some of that and make these characters happy and I kept having to back down from it because it wasn’t really the point of any of these writerly meditations on this character.

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

I really enjoyed writing the very low stakes banter in head line, particularly Steve and Eddie being able to talk about their respective reputations without getting too deep into it: “Well then let me fill you in: I’m bad news. Headline bad news.” “Sure, but I like you.” Sure, like he agrees. But, like it doesn’t matter.

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

Not so much! I have a few fics in the works that I’m hoping I can massage into something fit for public viewing but I’m not really working on a timeline right now.

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

Oh gosh, not much. Just a thank you to who nominated me, I am genuinely touched. But also to thank the mods of this blog, this is really wonderful work you’re doing here!

Thank you to our author, @cchapsticck, and our nominator, @dreamwatch! See more of Cchapsticck'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!

#writer's spotlight #writer's wednesday #steddie #steddie fic recs #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #ao3 writer #steddie writers

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wheneverfeasible · 3 months

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cw: slight spoilers for Flight of Icarus

I’m honestly not the biggest fan of kid fics so I don’t think I’d ever actually write this, but…

I was thinking about Eddie’s expired condoms, thought about how in kid fics it’s always Steve who has a kid (or kids), and it got me thinking of a post-S4 AU, maybe a year or so later, and Eddie and Steve are a new couple who have only recently started being an official, exclusive deal. And then Eddie gets a blast from the past.

Slight spoilers in the below paragraph

Now, it could be anyone really from his past, but in my mind I’m thinking specifically of Paige from the Eddie prequel book, Flight of Icarus. It’s been say 3 or 4 years since they split ways and she went back to LA. Meaning, if during one of the times she and Eddie engaged in unsafe sex or sex with expired condoms, it’s feasible to imagine that she could have been unknowingly pregnant when they broke up.

Spoilers over

Now, imagine a social worker showing up at the Munson door because, as crazy as it is, Eddie has a 2-3 year old child suddenly thrust upon him after a tragic accident has taken the mother’s life and as the father listed on the birth certificate, he is the next of kin to take the baby (I picture a little girl, but it could be a boy).

The mother had been Eddie’s first love and, while he’s freaking out, he can’t brings himself to reject the innocent little thing, especially since the mother’s family has moved out of Hawkins following Vecna’s Curse. He knows he should give the baby up to them, but he simply can’t. However, he has Steve to worry about now.

After all, they just started officially dating/going steady. And now Eddie is a dad. He’s worried about it being too much for Steve, who may want kids of his own some day, but now Eddie is a package deal with a child that Steve has no responsibility for, a child that Steve never asked for. Eddie is certain Steve won’t want to be with him now but it’s his child; even though he can’t blame Steve, he’s not going to be like Al Munson and abandon his child.

Of course, Steve is understandably startled and needs to take a moment to consider everything. Ignoring the fact that Eddie has a child isn’t fair to the child itself. If things end poorly (which Steve is wracked with self-doubt and believes Eddie will realize he can do better eventually and leave him) then he doesn’t want to harm a child, and on the off-chance things don’t end poorly, is he ready to be a step-father figure now?

The answer is, of course, yes.

And so Eddie and Steve and the baby (and Wayne, who is absolutely delighted to have what is basically a grandchild though he would never admit it) find themselves in new adventures of being a new family.

For added drama, perhaps the mother’s parents end up finding out about the child being placed with Eddie and decide to sue for custody. In the end, the boys win however, and maybe the baby doesn’t have a mother, but it has two loving dads, a grandpa/great-uncle, and a whole host of uncles and aunts to love it and give it the best life imaginable.

(Robin is, of course, named godmother, and Dustin becomes the godfather.)

And though it wasn’t how they had originally planned it, both Eddie and Steve finally find the family they had always wanted.

#stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #kid fic #flight of icarus #bisexual eddie munson #bisexual steve harrington #plot thots

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your-writer-beta-side-piece · 10 months

Text

Looks like it’s time for me to pop back up again begging for fics about my new hyper fixation!

What’s in store for you in this post:

*An impassioned plea throughout the whole post to all of you amazing writers

*Gifs that will keep you up at night too

🎅 *My Gator Tillman fic Christmas wishlist 🎅

🏆*A (Smutty) Rec at the bottom for the best Gator x OC I’ve found so far🏆

*More gifs because goddamn I’m in a chokehold

It is seriously criminal how there’s like, two Gator x OC’s (that I can find, if you have any don’t hold out on me please!! I feel like I’m going through withdrawals having to wait a week for another episode as it is) on here and AO3.

I mean come on we all love ourselves a slutty, dominate, broken character that we all fantasize about fixing.

Not a single thought I’ve had about this man has of the Christ like variety, and I don’t think I really need to explain why just look at these gifs/photos:

HE HAS HANDCUFFS ON THE BED THE FICS ARE WRITING THEMSELVES

🎅My Gator Tillman Fanfic Christmas wishlist🎅:

I want a full story fleshing out our new favorite loser, but still somehow so damn attractive, Gator

I want an ofc that is too good for him but we all know we’d sink that low too girl

I’d LOVE it if it followed canon. Like how in the show he’s trying to get her/he's going after her like he is trying to get Dot

(come on if he was stalking you and called out to you and said “mama it’s time to come home” YOU TOO WOULD FOLD)

I want him to use those handcuffs on our girl once he finally gets her

I want smut

Y’all on AO3 come up with the best damn oc’s there’s a reason they’re binding yalls books and talking about them all over booktok like you guys are published authors

(Im not saying it’s right/that I participate or that it is even legal, I’m saying Ive seen it and I know you guys have the caliber of writing to make some people not give a fuck and try the law for some of you guy's stories)

I want him to call her mama

I want the dominance, the stalking, the cat and mouse chase

I want a plot as wild as this season and those families are

I know some people hate fics that follow plots of books or shows but this season is AMAZING and so fucking wild. I love it and I’d love to read about it and be immersed further into Fargo. I don’t want to leave the season 5 Fargo world I want to stay longer... with Gator

I want more smut

A plot that can only be contrived by fanfic authors who have been reading and writing since they were 15 or even younger

I want even more smut

I want all of the angst, good writing, and humor you can think of

I have a feeling we’ll need some of you fic doctors to write us a fix it fic of some sort

But I especially want smut. I want to drown in smut.

I want it all and you guys have served it all before so I know it's possible

If I could outline a whole plot, along with side plots, new characters and character arcs, write, and edit as fast as some of you guys can I would do it myself. I would do it for us. I’ve considered it. I mean I’ve been really considering it these past few days since it’s dryer out here than the Lyon’s bed. I’ve got an idea, lust, Christmas candy, and the hyper-focus to keep me interested for at least three to four weeks!! (I might have started if it wasn't the week before finals for me right now)

But some of you guys who’ve written for Steve Harrington (let alone other fandoms) have the ability to be best selling authors, so I know these communities have both the talent, ability, and the horniness to do this.

I believe in you guys, I believe in us. Let's do it for Christmas 🎄

REC I PROMISED:

Since it is the season of giving, I’m going to share my favorite fic so far. Let me know if there’s any fics we need to add, OR if there’s any books with love interests like Gator, for science 👀

Again the general criteria I’m using is along the lines of:

Is there an actual story going on?

Is there an oc who has a purpose, goals, wants, needs, an actual arc of some sort?

Is Gator Tillman still sexy af?

Is it following canon or is it original?

Is the plot and characterization good?

Does Gator call her mama or is it at least probable that he will 👀 ?

Is the grammar/writing good?

Basically the same stuff we all want to check off

MY FAVORITE FIC SO FAR REC:

The best I’ve found so far has been:

Every Little Thing

By BuckysGrace

Link:

Why I like love it:

1.) The writing is pretty damn good

Normally we have to wait a few weeks or months with new movies/shows/books for people to have time to write and publish their well written and plotted fics but we have been blessed early!!

I really like the sprinkle of tid bits to come here and there. The authors really laying the foundation down for this story leaving little comments and hints here and there in their writing and characters conversations.

I can tell that the author is really working hard to create believable oc's and a world that could actually be a part of the Fargo TV show universe.

2.) Damn the little taste of smut we got just flamed the fire!

Tell me why I could actually visualize Gator during that scene?!?! It really felt like his characterization was perfect here! And damn I love me some dominant, possessive, jealous himbos who would kill for me or worse.

I PROMISE I'M TRYING SO HARD NOT TO SPOIL ANYTHING FOR YOU GUYS!!!

3.) I really like our girl Daphne (OC)

I feel like I can actually see her. Like I can hear her when she speaks. I can feel the awkwardness of her situation and her uncomfortableness radiating through me.

I like that she's shaping up to be a character with wants and goals and not just a 2-d romantic partner

4.) GODDAMN THAT DINNER WAS AWKWARD AND SEXY

I CANNOT WAIT FOR THE AFTERMATH ooooooo boy. I’m not spoiling anything. You can suffer (and enjoy 😏) that part all for yourselves

5.) We have confirmation from the author that there is a whole ass plot and story in the works

I love to hear it almost as much as I love to read it! But I could tell that they had some stuff in mind from the way they were writing alone before the confirmation.

6.) AND ITS GOING TO FOLLOW CANON EVENTUALLY MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ME US!

I might just get to hear Gator call our girl mama before I die from fic starvation. Plus we just might get the stalker Gator on page like we have on screen!

7.) I like the dual time line

It’s done a good job of getting me hooked. I’m really interested in learning more about Daphne’s past and her relationship with Gator. I think as time goes on as we learn more about their relationship and her relationship with both her family and his things are really gonna kick off.

4.) Gators characterization seems to be pretty accurate

He's selfish, possessive, dominante, kind of a jackass, but he is also sweet to those he cares about. Which, is something I've noticed when watching the show, and I've seen some posts talking along similar lines. I don't think he's mean deep down, I don't think he has it in him. I think the facade he puts on is the product of his father.

BUT I'm not excusing anything he's done of course

6.) The grammar is pretty good

Good writing like punctuation and sentence structure along with good story telling is just so important to me. I'm one of those people who can't get into a story if it's not written well.

7.) GUYS IM SMELLING THE ANGST COMING

Some of us are like blood hounds for this stuff, you read hundreds or even thousands of fics and books and you can start to know what goodies are coming your way. And I can feel the pain train a comin down the tracks!

8.) The smut is promising to be real real good

I just want to circle back to this for a moment because I am so excited to read more

What I don’t like about it:

It’s not longer/finished already so I can't devour it in one sitting 😭

You might not have read it yet

@buckysgrace

I think the only way through this is to fill our thirst for this man and if here and TikTok have shown me anything it’s that we’re DAMN thirsty!

WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE!? GO WRITE MORE GATOR X OC SO WE CAN ALL DEVOUR IT ON A03 OR READ BUCKYSGRACE’S FIC AND CRY WITH ME THAT THERES NOT MORE OF IT OR MORE OF ANY OTHER GATOR X OFC FICS 😭😭😭

*Did I write all of this instead of doing homework and studying for next weeks finals? Yes. Am I eventually going to devolve into a fic rec/review only blog? Maybe maybe not.

More gifs/photos for research purposes

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prettyoddfever · 8 months

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why are you so against ryden

I'm literally only pointing out why specific examples of "Ryden proof" don't work, or were misinterpreted by people who don't know much about the band. If me being pro-reality means that you consider me anti-Ryden then, uh… you might want to examine that more.

As long as we're on this topic, I'm going to expand on an older post here and go off on a tangent:

I actually loved the Ryden part of the fandom in the pre-split days! Ryden felt like a fandom-wide inside joke that united so many fans and sparked so much creativity (sometimes it reminded me of inventing bs symbolism in english & art classes lol). I didn’t read the slash, but it’s not like those kids stayed exclusively over in their communities… they were everywhere. A lot of my favorite accounts were massive Ryden fans & fic authors. but even the most die-hard shippers in 2006 & 2007 would scoff if new fans asked if they were ever being serious with their comments. It was all just entertaining wish fulfillment done to amuse themselves. They would act like it was a legit alternate reality and write long funny primers & posts like “look guys, they are in love. this is facts… here I go with my proof," but when it came down to whether or not they actually thought it was real… no, of course not. The fanfic authors were the first to laugh and say they weren’t hurting anyone because nobody actually believed Ryden was real and everyone was on the same page. They argued that every single band had a slash community and it just came with the fame. Some fans genuinely wanted Ryden to be real, while others thought it was entertaining how you could cherry-pick events & isolate them from any context to make Ryden look plausible. And both groups were taking matters into their own hands by trying to tie enough pictures & random dots together to make it look like a happy alternate reality that satisfied everyone. It was funny.

The majority of the pre-split fandom understood that Ryden wasn’t real, so people were on the same page when they shared their “proof.” It was like an inside joke. For example, I’ll argue that unicorns could be real because I know that the person I’m talking to is aware of reality. I can get as creative as I want and just have fun because we’re both on the same page… and the other person will be like “well yes of course they’re obviously real.” It looks like we agree. But that does not mean that we truly believe it lol... we're just bored & entertaining ourselves. Someone else who is unsure whether or not unicorns actually exist might read our convo and conclude that we are certain unicorns are real and have proof! But I never intended for my silly convo with my friend to be taken that seriously.

For me, Ryden was more about the fandom. It was just fun to see a picture or new moment and wait to see if anyone else spotted the same potential too. The slash accounts across different sites/forums would even make fun of themselves for how far they would go to make everything fit Ryden. At times it felt like an affectionate joke about the band and the fandom.

I’d say the Ryden craze first took over with the huge surge of new fans during the summer 2006 tour (around the time Brendon & Ryan started fully going for the mic sharing each night). This was back when the band still read the forums and different fan sites and were trying to get a sense of what their fans were saying (such a bad idea lol). I was never totally clear on where the guys stood on Ryden in 2006 but it seemed like they were in on the joke… but it was so confusing at the same time. Like one minute they’d complain about the disgusting “pornfiction” in an interview and the next minute they’d be hamming it up for meet & greet pictures. Bden would practically hump Ryan’s leg during a show and then Ryan would suggestively run his hand up Bden’s thigh during a meet & greet exactly when he knew fans were watching… and then they’d both act like they didn’t get why fans ever came up with stories about them. I’m not saying their actions meant they were asking for something btw. I’m just saying that it’s equally true that the guys would claim they weren’t huge on Ryden and that they intentionally fueled the fire to get fans to laugh/scream at the right time. The band was super aware that the Ryden fans were a huge part of the fandom who drove a lot of the hype online… so it seemed like in late 2006 the guys were just trying to connect with a fanbase they were being quickly distanced from as they got more & more famous. Then in 2008 the guys intentionally added extra Ryden elements to their stage routine because they knew what a lot of fans still wanted to see.

So my conclusion was that it was all in good fun (except making suggestive comments to the band irl was horrible… people were even saying some seriously gross stuff to Zack about the boys and taking it waaaaay too far). During the lull of 2007, and even into 2008, there seemed to be a whole section of the fandom that was more invested in their fanfic communities than the irl band (they’d often come onto other boards & communities to ask for facts or details for their fanfics and watching the replies they got was like watching a really bad game of telephone haha so I’m guessing those plots diverged from reality pretty quickly). New fans were also being introduced to the band through fanfiction and seemed more intent on just spotting Ryden moments and learning the fanfic version of history rather than any real-life history. So by late 2008 there was definitely a small crowd who was taking Ryden more seriously and also understood less about the band. But I wasn't always sure if their tone was totally serious or not, because the joking posts had often been written in a serious tone too.

Side note on that: when I started this account in 2020 I hadn't thought about P!ATD much while I had been sick for years. I was just trying to throw myself back into the mindset of 2006 and rediscover a time when my world had been awesome & I was healthy. So when I saw all the sun/moon theories that had formed after I'd left the fandom I was like YES omg this is amazing. I lived for that kind of stuff. But then it was confusing how the same people who were currently posting all of the “ryden was real” stuff were the same ones who would quickly point out that another one of my Ryden posts wasn’t what really happened or that a photo manip that I considered fun was actually fake… I mean, obviously??? I didn’t get why there was any difference between everything. It took me a few months to get a read on the current fandom and realize that things weren't being done in the same joking spirit. I started struggling to explain why I was posting Ryden-ish stuff if I didn’t necessarily believe what I was saying (and again I’m having a hard time explaining here because it never felt like the fandom was making up crap we didn’t stand behind back then! we were serious that we believed it was a darn good connection/theory or photoshop job haha). Ryden used to be like this shared alternate lens to view events through that felt like teamwork to create. We would intentionally pretend like years of full context didn't exist and create our own parallel narrative that could coexist with reality in our minds. But now it feels like people are sharing "Ryden proof" for real as though the piles of creative nonsense are an actual recap of historic events... and you need to pick some kind of "side" to believe? Idk, it's weird. I dropped any remaining nostalgia connected with Ryden content and ended up shifting the tone & focus of my account to organizing actual facts, media, and info about events I remember.

I don't think it's ok that moments in the band's history are often distorted or erased in order to pass off certain examples of “Ryden proof” as real now. It would be a shame for ridiculous Ryden stories to be prioritized as key info about the band while normal info about band members & events gets ignored now (ex: turning Northern Downpour into some kind of Ryden thing totally erases what Ryan wanted to do with the song). A lot of people have told me that they don’t care what actually happened because they prefer their ideas anyways. And that’s fine, as long as you’re aware that what you’re choosing doesn't track with reality. (Also, I always felt like knowing the real events or original photos from a manip gave me more appreciation for how creative people were… but I suppose that’s because Ryden was more about the fandom for me).

SIDE TANGENT: I drifted away from the fandom after summer 2009 when I got sick, so I don’t know specifically what happened over the next couple years to get so many fans who were impressively uninformed about the band yet super intense about Ryden at the same time... but I'm also not surprised I guess. Some knowledge about the band absolutely faded to the background in the last half of 2006 as the overwhelming amount of newer fans invented their own answers and were more interested in freaking out over cute guys than actually taking the time to learn about the band. The knowledge wasn't lost, it was just drowned out for a while in the midst of their enthusiastic chatter. It felt like a waste of time to correct them too because they were absolutely everywhere and they weren't really harming anyone by screaming things like Ryan took his mom as a date to the VMAs lol. Maybe there was a surge of younger fans by 2010-2011 who didn't have the context to know what they were looking at too, and were very enthusiastic about Ryden? I don't know. This is all purely speculation on my part.

I actually don't care whether anyone thinks Ryden was real or not... that's definitely not my focus and I'm not trying to convince anyone of a "side" either. You can conclude whatever you want. My focus in my posts is simply to provide context for some of the inaccurate stories & examples that are currently being passed around as though they're actual history. I don't expect anyone to care. But at least the info is still available for any younger fans who might be interested in the real-life band.

#ryden

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darkbluekies · 3 months

Note

advice for posting to tumblr? examples like best things to write/post for interactions, or tips for the stories themselves? I admire you 🤍please let me know… I’d love to post writing but I’m kind of nervous, especially for posting ocs

…. bcuz I feel like if I got 3 notes on it I might cry.

thank you 🐝

I was also nervous posting my first oneshot on this account — so nervous that I privated it for a few days before I decided that "What's the worst that could happen? If this doesn't work, then what have I actually lost?" I don't remember how much interaction my first oneshot got, but you shouldn't be too hard on yourself because it will take a little time to build up an audience that follow regularly.

But for advice themselves, I'd say, if you are unsure on what to write, take a look around some hastags in the genres that you are interested in writing for and see a bit what works well. If mafia works well in the hashtags, try to write your own mafia scenario and incorporate your style!

Also, what i didn't do but what i think i would do in case i could go back and change, is that post 3 or 4 fics relatively close after each other in the beginning, so that your readers can get a taste of what your style is and what you like to write. It's hard to decide that on only one piece of writing. And by posting regularly in the beginning shows that you are serious about your writing and that you will keep posting in the future, which also helps keeping readers because it reassures them that you won't just write once and disappear!

I hadn't really explored others yandere ocs before I started, I just wanted to write in a more fanfiction style but without the fanfiction part and it felt natural to make my own characters. I'd say go for it because you have much more freedom with scenarios and stories that way. My advice is to make the OCs quite different from each other so that "there's one for everyone" if that makes sense. Different characters brings different types of readers. Maybe make one police oc, one fisher, one teacher or such, give everyone different starters so that you can create different scenarios for them that only works for them.

Another advice that I think is important is the title, the blurb and the cover. "Never judge a book by its cover" is bullshit, you do judge the title, the blurb and the picture before you pick up a book. Play around with them!

My last advice would be to interact with the ones that come to your account. Be nice to anons and other creators that want to take part in your writing!

Good luck<33 i'm sure you'll do great<33

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esta-elavaris · 4 months

Text

Part One [1,592 words]

Prologue is here, I'll make a proper navigation post for it soon!

Jane Eyre inspired Aemond Targaryen fic (except there's no wife in the attic - only Vizzy T and his miniatures) -- I've been meaning to write this for ages and now with the new season around the corner my brain said it is time.

It's not on AO3 for now but I do have a whole load of other fics over there! I'll tag folk in the replies -- hmu if you want to be added to the list!

Dividers by cafekitsune.

A fingertip was tracing the birthmark in the crook of her arm. As the name implied, she’d had it since birth – no bigger than the nail of her little finger, a few shades darker than her skin…and in the distinct shape of the Seven-Pointed Star. Jeyne had never paid it much mind growing up. The novelty of it wore off around the same time that her school-and-orphanage managed to rid her of any silly fantasies that it meant the gods had something fantastic in store for her. In fact, she never thought about it at all until Aemond.

As the bond between them deepened, he’d taken to tracing his fingertips across it just like this – a habit so engrained and unfailing that it almost had the feel of a ritual. A tender ritual, if there ever was such a thing, and one so intimate that she’d almost fancied it felt like a kiss. Up until the first time he did actually kiss her, anyway, and then she realised how silly that thought had been.

But how was she to know? Before him, she’d never been touched in a manner that wasn’t corrective in nature. Not as far as she could recall, at least.

“We’re not at war. We’ve a strong position. Marriage for the sake of an alliance doesn’t seem pressing,” he murmured, his voice so low it was practically a purr as he stroked her arm.

“Princess Rhaenyra is married to your uncle,” Jeyne pointed out in return. “And Prince Aegon to Princess Helena. You’re all they have to offer, should an alliance be needed with a House beyond the Targaryens…or the Velaryons. Your family won’t allow that to be cast aside. Not for me.”

“The King would not,” he agreed readily enough. “But my mother…she might be swayed. She might be sympathetic. She’s fond of you, you know.”

What would fondness help, when the Queen’s word could not override the King’s wishes? If it did, Aegon would have been made heir apparent long ago. Jeyne voiced none of this, though, not wanting to spoil this little haven of peace they carved out for themselves here, together.

“The King’s health has been declining since before I was even born,” Aemond pointed out, his voice lower than a whisper. “But now it’s less of a decline and more of a…freefall.”

Jeyne was dangerously still, where she lounged at his side. What he was saying was barely sidestepping treason, to discuss the death of the King thus. Perhaps it was fine for him to do so, he was the King’s son, but if she joined in? A servant? It wouldn’t be right. Worse than that, it would be stupid.

But, going against their usual way, Aemond was not content to allow her silence. His silken silver hair slipped across his shoulder as he turned his head to regard her with his good eye.

“You’re not a simpleton, Jeyne. You know what I’m saying.”

“Of course I do,” she murmured.

“But you find it distasteful.”

“No! It just…it hardly seems real. Nor likely enough to hope for.”

“You doubt my resolve?” there was a teasing to his tone now that rejection had been ruled out.

“I’d never be so foolish as to do that,” she snorted.

“My affections, then?” the teasing tone remained, but she knew fine well that if she answered poorly the results could be disastrous.

So it was a good thing she tended towards honesty, as a rule.

“No,” she replied. “But I do doubt everybody not in this room – and how enthusiastic they would be to give you what it is you intend to ask for.”

Growing tired of having to keep his head turned if he wanted to see her, Aemond rolled atop her in a flash, his legs tangled amongst her skirts. They did like to kid themselves that so long as they both stayed mostly dressed, they weren’t toying with danger here. How neatly his hips slotted between her thighs said otherwise.

“I don’t intend to ask for anything,” he replied, his nose nudging hers. “I’ll demand it. And I’ll keep demanding it, until I’m granted it.”

“Aemond…think of everything you could lose…”

Her doubt might’ve held more weight if not for how her hands slid up his sides, then around to his back, feeling the wealth of lean muscle beneath the dark undershirt he wore.

“I prefer to think of all I could gain,” he smirked down at her.

“Oh yes, a more advantageous match there never was.”

There was a time when she’d never dare tease him thus – but now it had a fondness gleaming in his eye, maybe because he knew he was one of the very few she’d ever joke with at all, and he kissed her slowly.

“I don’t give a shit about advantages,” he replied simply when he drew back. “Names…gold…alliances…What could any other House bring that House Targaryen doesn’t already have? That we couldn’t just take from them, if we really needed to? With our dragons? But a wife like you, Jeyne?”

He paused then, planting a forearm into the bed beside her to hold his weight, so that he could use his other hand to trace the back of one finger slowly down the side of her face as he continued.

“That can’t be bartered for in the Small Council.”

“Your duty…” she murmured softly.

“My duty is to marry the woman who could best support me as I carry out my role. None could do that more than you.”

Lying there, with his weight pressing down, solid and comforting atop her, she tried to picture all that he promised. Herself, standing by his side in the Great Hall as court was held. Sitting by his side at banquets. Having the dragon-emblazoned cloak of House Targaryen draped across her shoulders in the Sept of Baelor.

Her imagination was seldom disappointing – it was her main source of solace throughout her childhood. But while she could picture all of those things, they felt like they were just that. Daydreams. Incredibly fanciful ones, no less.

And though Aemond only had one eye, it missed nothing, and he caught the doubt on her face easily enough.

“Five years ago, if you were told that you’d find employment in the Red Keep, would you have believed it?”

“Not at all.”

“And on your first day here, did you suspect you’d find yourself here?”

“Of course not. If I could scheme that well, I’d rule the Seven Kingdoms by now.”

“Mm. Maybe one day.”

“I’ve already come so far – risen far higher than my birth should have allowed. How realistic is it to expect more?”

“Realistic,” he echoed with a teasing sort of exasperation on his face. “The last time I set my mind to something this thoroughly, it got me Vhagar. If you can put your faith in nothing else, put it in this. In me.”

The touch at her arm, combined with the warmth in her limbs and the softness of the sheets beneath her, were all more than enough to have reality slipping from Jeyne’s mind. Her lips even parted, ready to murmur to him about the terrible nightmare she’d suffered, when another voice spoke instead.

“I think she’s waking up.”

The voice – that of a woman – opened the gates for reality to sweep in.

Jeyne’s eyes opened, already half-sitting up, but a hand pressed against her shoulder, urging her back down.

“Rest. You’re safe here.”

She was in a large square room, bundled in furs on the floor by the hearth. Before her knelt an older woman with kind grey eyes and dark curly hair, streaked with grey. Her skin was tanned and weatherbeaten – a farmer? If she was, she was well off. The floor beneath her was wooden, rather than dirt, and the walls were made of stone instead of wood.

A fierce gale blew outside, rattling the shutters on their hinges.

“Listen to that,” the woman murmured. “If she’d have been out in that tonight, she’d have died.”

It took Jeyne a moment to realise who she was talking to – another woman, of a similar age, with red hair bound tightly in a bun at the nape of her neck. She sat at the large wooden table at the other end of the room, mending by candlelight.

“I’m sure we’d all survive with one less beggar out there,” she responded without looking up.

“Ignore her,” the brunette said.

Obeying was easy enough, mostly because she was too concerned with looking about for her satchel. She spotted it, discarded by the door, still buckled shut, and the relief left her weak. Or maybe it just left her able to feel the weakness that had always been there.

“If you could just give me some water, please, I can be on my way in a moment,” she rasped.

“You’ll be going nowhere. Not until you recover your strength,” the woman argued firmly. “We’ve space and food aplenty, do not worry. What’s your name?”

“I…” she almost lied – up until she realised doing so might send them through her bag for cues when she next lost consciousness.

Judging by the black spots floating across her vision, that would be soon.

“Jeyne,” she breathed.

“Rest, Jeyne,” the woman urged. “You’re safe with my sister and I.”

She fell back against the furs, the strength sapping out of her limbs, her eyelids fluttering.

“What did you expect?” Aemond had sneered at her, in the end.

The answer was simple: nothing he hadn’t promised her.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen/oc #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fic #hotdfic #house of the dragon fanfiction #OPL esta-elavaris #aemond/jeyne

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danielfuckingricciardo · 1 year

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Why Anita Driver should be Stopped - An Essay(ish) Post

Hi. So I don’t often do long posts like this, you probably know me as a fic writer and shitposter, but this situation has been irking me since I first read about it and so I only felt it right to explain why.

First off, I wanna say that I understand what she’s doing (I’m going to refer to Anita as she/her throughout this though I have no clue on the author’s actual gender identity). I think she’s very intelligent, using pastiche and parody to create content tailored towards a certain specific audience.

But as someone who knows their fandom history, and has moved in fanfiction circles for over 10 years, the attention one specific book I’m not going to refer to by title because I may throw up in my mouth a little, has received has me very worried for F1 RPF writers as a whole.

RPF has always been a main stay of fanfiction culture. Though there are many ‘antis’ who think it’s wrong and inappropriate to write about real people, RPF fandoms, think One Direction, BTS etc have always been some of the biggest out there.

And I’m sure you’ve seen as popular fan works such as the ‘After’ series by Anna Todd and ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’ by E.L. James have transitioned from fan work into published original novels.

Because of this, fan works are booming. Fanfiction is less of a dirty little secret now, confined to locked sites and email chains, but is something that many people know about even if they don’t consume it themselves.

And so, enter Anita Driver. Capitalising on the BookTok trend of ‘spicy’ fiction (what I would call erotica), the author has taken it upon herself to self publish a novel in that similar style but using Daniel Ricciardo not just as inspiration, but as the main protagonist.

I get what she’s trying to do, I really do. I can see that it’s parody, it’s not meant to be taken seriously, but firstly it’s illegal and secondly it really puts fanfiction communities at risk.

Part One: Defamation

Legally, you can’t take someone else’s identity and profit off of it without their explicit consent to do so. There’s a reason Harry Styles became Hardin Scott, and Edward Cullen became Christian Grey. That’s someone else’s intellectual property, or their identity. You cannot legally make a profit out of that. The subject could quite easily build a lawsuit against the author, and the author would have no grounds for defence. There’s a reason AO3 do not allow you to share fundraising links or anything else similar to that, and it’s to protect themselves and the authors against possible lawsuits.

I’d also just like to add that there’s plenty of erotic F1 inspired books out there. I haven’t read them myself but I know that the ‘Dirty Air’ series draws inspiration from current drivers on the grid, but doesn’t explicitly mention anyone real by name! Every character is the intellectual property of the author, it is original fiction that can safely make a profit.

By using Daniel Ricciardo’s image and personality, Anita Driver is putting herself at risk, in this case, not for theft of intellectual property, but of defamation. I haven’t read the book, of course I haven’t read the book, but I can easily believe that the content within could be considered to be defamatory as it may damage public perceptions of him. Now I’m no expert on law, I took a semester of media law and that’s it, but people have definitely sued for less.

In U.K. law (which I’m going off because I know the most about it) “A statement is not defamatory unless its publication has caused or is likely to cause serious harm to the reputation of the claimant.” (x) It could easily be said that portraying Daniel in this way would cause damage to his reputation. We know his image isn’t squeaky clean, but having this book using his name could easily lead people to believe that he was in some way associated with its production. I don’t think anyone would like their public perception to be that they actively encourage and fund the production of erotica about them.

In a lawsuit, Amazon could also be held liable for this, as their website is the main distribution platform for the book, and Anita Driver is a pseudonym and and an unknown.

“It is a defence for the operator to show that it was not the operator who posted the statement on the website. The defence is defeated if the claimant shows that it was not possible for the claimant to identify the person who posted the statement.” (x) If Anita Driver remains anonymous, Amazon could easily be held liable in a court case. Because of this, it would be in their best interests to remove the book to avoid this. (I do not like Amazon, and while they would easily be able to fight the court case with their billions, it would be much easier for them to remove the book and avoid any possible cases.)

So honestly, it is easy to see why this book is a danger to the author. Now I’m not saying that Daniel would necessarily sue. I think he’d probably just laugh it off even if it does make him feel uncomfortable (which it probably does, it would me!) because he has more important things to do. But I honestly don’t know how F1 and Liberty Media might react to this, they would definitely be more likely considering Daniel’s Reputation in turn reflects their own.

Part Two: Danger to Fan Works

This leads me in nicely to part two, actually, because legal threats against fanfiction writers have been a real problem to various communities over the years. Anne Rice, creator of the ‘Interview with a Vampire’ series, had all works purged from the internet in the early 2000s, and threatened writers with legal action if they continued to post fanfiction.

Fanfiction has always been a niche. It’s a small part of the internet for those who want to put their blorbos in situations, or just to think about them fucking nasty. But fan works haven’t always been accepted. Many people still look down on fanfiction, particularly those feature OCs (original characters) or reader inserts.

Anita Driver’s book would be more at home on Wattpad than Kindle Unlimited. It is a fan work. It is written by fans, for fans, and should be kept to that specific audience (without paying for it of course, because as I said, it’s very illegal!)

A work of fanfiction being a book is nothing new, as I mentioned earlier, the ‘After’ series and ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’ started out life as fanfiction. But when published, they were no longer fanfiction, they became original works of their own.

Putting fan works out in the open like that only threatens the F1 RPF community. It leaves us open, vulnerable, more so than normal. Sites like AO3 can only protect us to a certain extent, we can lock fics, sure, but that only stops those who don’t have an account from accessing our works.

If this one book is out there, who knows what may happen next. All it takes is for someone to say ‘I don’t want works featuring me published online and I will threaten a lawsuit’ and we’re back to email chains and password locked neocities webpages.

So it genuinely makes me worry.

And with the recent development of Dax Shepard sharing the book with Daniel himself, I feel that it’s all just too close. Fanfiction is never meant to be seen or read by its original subjects. Sure, they may actively seek it out if they want to, but unless they explicitly consent to it, they shouldn’t be seeing it. Daniel has had no say in the matter, it seems. It is being forced on him, which is going to look bad for the fanfiction community as a whole.

Part Three: Conclusion

Honestly, I don’t know whether I’m just being overly freaked out by this whole thing, I hope it just nicely blows over, the book disappears from people’s minds and we get to just keep our niche little side of the internet safe. But part of me is scared.

I’m scared for what may come, if the book is popular, will people try and emulate it? Will people start ripping fics from Tumblr/AO3/Wattpad to sell on Amazon to make a quick buck off the back of this? And will we have another Anne Rice type situation which kills the community completely?

I don’t know. And that’s what worries me. I hope that this whole thing blows over, that Daniel isn’t too freaked out, and that Anita Driver stops using ai image generators to make her book covers (Lance has waaay too many fingers on her most recent one. Caught you out babes x)

This is the end, for now. I suppose I’ll probably add to this if there are any more developments, and if anyone has anything to add (maybe some better law knowledge because mine is basic) please feel free!

Thanks for reading.

#f1 #formula one

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folklauerate · 9 months

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2023 Fic Year in Review

Thanks to @a-regular-jo for tagging me!

List of fics completed

take my hand, wreck my plans, that’s my man series

The Yellow Tulips of Texas

an affair, three ways series

inosculation

cause I’m a mastermind (the west wing au)

in our perfect park

leave the light on

Santa Kate series

fuck it, it’s fine series

I’m on Fire

Modern Omega

Number of words written

502,159 😳

Your most popular fic

The Set Up by a laughably large margin. Although as I checked stats now to answer this question, I see that Bridgerton, Actually (my Love, Actually AU) is now second and it wasn’t before, quite recently actually! It seems it got a lot of holiday readership :)

Your personal fav

This is like asking me to pick a fav child! It’s difficult but I’d have to go with the professor au (take my hand, wreck my plans, that’s my man series). It came at a time where I was feeling uninspired and sort of adrift fandom-wise. Following the completion of Bridgerton, Actually, which was a behemoth and draining to write (though I loved it!), I was in the midst of taking some downtime to just… be. To consume without worrying about creating and to just reconsider. During that time, I read plenty of other things, including fic from other fandoms. I noticed tropes and things I simply hadn’t been exposed to ever/in a while, and found myself really drawn to the idea of an age gap with Kathony. Their fics feature them being near/the same age so often, in an effort to illustrate just how well matched they are. I wanted to do a sort of character study and love story when they had a significant age gap. I wanted to explore the ways Anthony might have been different if he was older, the fears of dying young (perhaps) abated but with no Kate to spur them forward. The Anthony I created in this AU was someone who had lived a bit of a life, hadn’t settled for a marriage for the sake of it, and had grown up and developed his own tastes in between teaching lectures and devoting himself to his family. I feel as though it can be popular to show Anthony devoid of taste or personality in terms of home decor or outside pursuits pre-Kate, and that simply wasn’t an option with him here. I really enjoyed developing this man with cultivated and exacting tastes. I’m getting rambly here so I’ll stop, because I could talk about this oneshot for a while. The point being—this oneshot marked a time of sort of creative freedom for me. When I started writing it, it felt nearly insane. I just wrote and wrote with no real reader expectation because I was writing a daddy kink in a fandom that really didn’t seem to have one. I was writing and entirely possessed by the story and characters and premise itself. I wrote that and nothing else for a while. I wrote it across continents and flights and subways and in my room, alone. I would text Kara about it nonstop and I’d post excerpts and just wrote it and didn’t think about it… and then it came time to post. I genuinely didn’t know how it would be received. And I need to add that it is far from the most popular Kathony fic ever, and it’s not even my most popular Kathony fic ever, but the response was nonetheless astounding. I genuinely couldn’t have expected the way it would be received and I’m so grateful for anyone who spent time with those words and maybe found themselves inspired to push boundaries in their own fic and writing.

Your fav scene

I genuinely can’t pick one. I think I’ve written too much hahaha. I’ll state a few that come to mind now;

In the Texas!Anthony AU I loved writing Anthony meeting Kate’s extended family. I loved giving her an extended family, filled with doting grandparents, noisy cousins, and all the fun hallmarks of Indian American kid life.

The papercut scene in the Prof AU.

Nearly the entirety of the spanking oneshot follow-up to the prof au

And also the Lover inspired fic in the prof au lol

I loved the Balmoral chapter of The Set Up, especially the beginning vignette of three; Charlie/Harry, Hugo/Willie, Kate/ghosts/legacy/history. The moment she lights incense and says a prayer in this really storied, old, English castle is unbelievably significant, I think, in ways that will come to play in the fic now.

So much of the roommates fic is a real love letter to NYC. I did a reread recently and was almost surprised by it myself? I think I’ve had enough time away to be surprised by it and I was. I know those places, I feel those places. I hope the sense of self comes across as significantly for the reader as it does to me.

Writing the aftermath of the shooting scene in The West Wing AU and Kate winning the election as well were really poignant. I cried writing them and I cry rereading them. They’re almost a brilliantly rebellious ode to hope in the face of the perceived hopelessness of US politics. Regardless of whether or not a president like Kate Sharma plausible, I center my politics and general life philosophies around hope. That fic felt like hope and belief in a better world.

A fic or scene that challenged you

Plenty! The Balmoral chapter challenged me a lot until I saw Angels in America and something clicked. I actually can’t think of more right now in a really specific way but I will say anytime I felt challenged I either ignored it or wrote through it. Writing through it was always the answer and right way to tackle it.

A line of writing you’re proud of

There’s definitely a lot I’m a proud of but I am currently traveling and CBA to trawl through over 500k words to find the line I’m proud of. There’s a LOT of prose I’m really proud of though. The recent chapter of Babel where I describe Simon’s party is some of my best work, I think. Sweet Like Honey (stepfather au) has some prose I’m exceptionally proud of. As does the Obsession AU. Some descriptions of Texas in the Texas!Anthony AU are gorgeous. If you can think of anything that stood out to you, let me know.

A comment that touched you

I genuinely treasure every single comment I’ve received and I’m currently working through responding to many (if you get a months late response,,, I’m sorry). I will take this time to impress upon anyone who might be reading that leaving comments can be so encouraging and I do love hearing from readers. Fic really does feel like I’m writing directly for you guys. And so it’s great to get feedback or excited squealing because it makes it less lonely and helps me feel like I’m a part of it with you guys. I love when friends comment, I love when people who I only know through excited screeching on ao3 comment, I really love it all.

Recently, a longtime reader left a comment on my recent update of The Set Up just to thank me for writing this year and it was so moving and so lovely I teared up. It was unbelievably kind and thoughtful. That really snuck in at the end of the year for one that just took the cake for me.

Something that inspired your writing

Everything. Angels in America. Echoing Jo by saying Prince Harry’s memoir Spare. A lot of Haladriel and Darklina works and writers. Bruce Springsteen. Lysistrata. Babel by R.F. Kuang. Little Rabbit by Alyssa Songsiridej. Babylon the film. Singing in the Rain. The West Wing lol. Dachshunds (English cream) and Greyhounds. The British royals. Kafka. Religious trauma. Guts by Olivia Rodrigo (specifically bad idea, right?). Wet Dream and Chaise Lounge by Wet Leg. The people who broke my heart and the people who helped me stitch it back up. My fellow writers and friends, always.

Your proudest accomplishment

Getting over a bad depressive episode and writing slump and purposefully refocusing my attentions to: myself, why I felt compelled to write, and the people who did love me and read my writing and made that clear, as opposed to the people who didn’t.

Do you have any writing goals for next year?

To finish The Set Up. To finish some Perfect Park drabbles and revisit the west wing au for some good election year distraction. And, maybe, to take a little break as I work on original things. I am not leaving, don’t worry. I have set some professional and personal goals for myself that require more of my emotional and intellectual time/space/energy and I need to refocus some efforts there. But I’m not done and I will be back. I’m tentatively planning something quite exciting fic-wise. If it comes to fruition, I’ll tell you all in time.

Tagging @grantairesbottle @amalinwrites who is never on tumblr but I’ll annoy her to do it, @bad-surprise @inkbugfic @ladykettlechips and Rama whose tumblr @ I always forget to do this lol

#fanfic year in review #Bridgerton fanfic

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