#fic; the gloaming

[it-happened-one-fic]

Hours in the Moonlight Master-List

Most believe that vampires do not exist. That their just an old tale that has been reused countless times in the forms of horror in romance. But you know otherwise. After all, vampires do have a special affection for you for reasons unknown. Delving into the world of the night is something totally different though. Especially for someone who’s been trying to avoid these creatures that practically hunt you.

But then, one step closer in the form of a vampire you accidentally befriend and the slope becomes slippery.

It’s time you learned what happens during hours in the moonlight by the side of vampires who come in the form of friends, allies, and potentially foes.

Here it is! My Twisted Wonderland Vampire AU! I hope you all enjoy!!

Vampires Don't Eat Potatoes

Getting Late

The Same Red

A Vampire Hunter or Something

Far More Charming

Shatter to a Billion Piece

Can't Control Others' Actions

Questions to be Asked

Nothing Good

Of All People

Holy Water, Stakes, and Other Such Things

The Start Line

The New Hunter

A Return to Normalcy

Mirrors

Continue As Planned

New to this World

The Masked Man

Aesthetic for Fairest Midnight Playlist for Fairest Midnight

First Night on the Job

A Lion's Den

An Untamed Predator

Working Together

See This Through

Something to Prove

Were-vampires

A Word of Advice

Tougher Than You Seemed

Protect Our Own

Six Hours

Hunter Becomes The Hunted

Promise

Time With You

The Last of Me

Aesthetic for Persevering Afterlight Playlist for Persevering Afterlight

Good Question

An Oddity

I Must Insist

No Harm in Being Cautious

A Sort of Game Plan

Hypnosis

Memories

Hard Evidence

Chained

Trust

Pinkie Swear

Steamroll Into a Situation

Better to be Safe Than Sorry

Power and Control

Ready To Move On

Aesthetic for Guileful Nightfall Playlist for Guileful Nightfall

Aesthetic for Somnolent Gloaming Playlist for Somnolent Gloaming

Dead Memories and the Undead

A Strange One

More and More Questions

Someone of Incredible Importance

Coming Soon!

If you would like to read more fics like these, my Twisted Wonderland Master-List can be found here: Twisted Wonderland Master-List.

[ladyviolethummingbird]

The Gloaming

An Outlander/Jane Eyre crossover

Catch up on chapters 1-9 here

Chapter 10: From Afar

Head full of thoughts of Claire, Jamie wound his way along darkened corridors towards his bedchamber. Within him there was a lightness; the weightless and floating kind that made his feet feel as though they were barely touching the ground as he walked. At the same time there was a heaviness; pressure on his chest like he could scarcely draw breath from how all-encompassing his feelings were. Having never been in love before, he had no idea if it was normal to feel so jumbled up inside, so instead settled for replaying the evening he had just spent with Claire and recalling with pleasure just how beautiful she’d looked in the light of the fading fire.

Having not paid much heed to the direction he was taking, Jamie unexpectedly found himself at the foot of the stairs where Claire had fallen. Despite bone aching tiredness, a niggling feeling propelled him to crouch down and take a closer look; something about a graceful and surefooted woman stumbling on steps she’d descended hundreds of times just wasn’t adding up. Sweeping his hands over the smooth wood he anticipated finding a loose board or nail to account for it, but squinting at the dimly lit staircase he detected nothing out of the ordinary. Suddenly his fingertips slid into a cold liquid. Startled by the unpleasant sensation, he yanked his hands back, hurriedly glancing around for the source. With nothing appearing out of place, all he could think to account for it was rain, perhaps from a window blowing open during the storm, however a quick check showed all those nearby fastened shut. There was probably a perfectly logical explanation for the wet stairs but a feeling in Jamie’s wame told him otherwise, and with a shiver he pulled the shawl he wore a little tighter around himself. He was still wracking his brains to determine the cause of the dampness when the smell hit him; such distinctive odour he wondered how he could have missed it earlier. Spicy, fruity and not quite sweet, it was unmistakably brandy.

He rubbed his eyes trying to think, Claire’s voice floating into his head “The smell alone makes me gag”…“I must’ve misjudged a step”… “No need to wake anyone else”… It was all connected he knew, only he couldn’t see through the fog in his brain to work out how. As the questions swirled, Jamie felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck, as though he was being watched. Standing to his full height he cast his eyes out into the semi-darkness; searching but not entirely sure he wanted to find anything. From behind him a floorboard creaked and he whirled around, body tensing. The scape of feet followed…

Continue reading…

[landwriter]

Heya, I love your writing and taste in things.

I’ve finished (and loved) everything you’ve posted <3

Are there any sandman fics that have tickled your fancy lately?

Thank you so much!!! I sadly do not have time to read near as much Sandman fic as I'd like, but I have scoured both my memory and my bookmarks on AO3 (all twelve of them) and dug up some absolutely wonderful stories - hope at least one or two of these is new to you?!

I am probably a bit weird in this, but I don't bookmark fics I love (which is really nearly all I've read) insamuch as fics that have done something in particular that I think is so well-executed or clever or inspiring that I want to be able to study it like a creature in its own right. Usually these are stories that have the traits I admire most in fiction: economy of language, being very fucking funny, making me viscerally uncomfortable, or outright haunting me.

I loved reading all of them but your mileage may vary! Caveat lector like more than half of these are smut and/or violent so please check the tags against your own preferences. Several long-winded recs with excerpts and explanations under the cut:

---

The Birthday of the Beast | @slythernim | Dream/Hob | T | 3.3K

Father Almighty, though I have long not been your servant, I remain your unmanageable son. Here on Earth, closer to Hell than to Heaven, as I celebrate perhaps the least holy of holy days, I must imagine myself like unto Lucifer more than as Michael, that he and I might together make of the darkness a place for humanity to grow. He blows out the candles. 

Hob turns 666. Extremely fun fic by Nym that features incredible characterization within a very short space, Catholicism, Lucifer, and of course, gets a very special birthday gift. But you shall have to read the fic to see what it is. Read everything of Nym's, actually.

---

New Mistakes | Anonymous | Dream/Corinthian | M | 3.2K

Dream slid his thumb into the Corinthian’s mouth, the one he shared with most, the one with which he commonly spoke. “Well?” he asked. “Are you fed?” The voice that came from his left-eye mouth buzzed like locusts. My lord, we are. The voice that came from his right-eye mouth dripped like honey. My lord, we can always be fed more. Dream pulled back, looking at the Corinthian expectantly. The Corinthian swallowed, running his tongue along his teeth. There was a faint blush on his cheeks, and Dream was unaccountably flattered. “My lord,” he said. “I wish to be good.”

Have read almost no Corintheus but this fic hits on so much that I find distantly intriguing about the pairing. Perfect dialogue, gorgeous rhythm. Wonderfully visceral. Absolutely bonkers nuts for repetition in threes, as I'm sure you know, and I love how it was used here.

---

Lucy Locket | Anonymous | Dream/Hob and Dream/Hob/Corinthian | E | 17K

Five chapters (now with a new threesome added in late April, much to my delighted surprise!) of just fantastic roleplay smut that in-between all the sex is by turns incredibly funny and tender. Alternating Dream and Hob POV. As somebody for whom sexual roleplay has been my literal bread and butter on a professional basis, it shouldn't be surprising I am so fond of this fic - but it catches me out every time! Like a blow from behind, and I am winded. It is ridiculously hot and distressingly perfect all-through, and I would absolutely marry the author about it (sorry author if you're reading this). No excerpt because I cannot choose and will simply suggest that if you're up for kink that you go read it all at once.

---

Public | @softest-punk | Dream/Hob | E | 1.1K

"Oh, darling," Hob murmurs, fingering the edge of Dream's delicate lace knickers. Dream feels his smirk against his jaw, bites his lip at the brush of a kiss under his ear. "You forget how old I am. I learned to fuck with an audience."

Every day I get closer and closer to needing to write Dream and/or Hob with vulvas; this may have been the fic that sealed the deal for me, I think. Ridiculously hot, and enshrined in my head forever for the line above. I learned to fuck with an audience. God! How good. A masterclass in the slutty drabble that nevertheless retains peak Dream/Hob characterization (I would argue that sex is in fact one of the best narrative vehicles for characterization and exploration of interpersonal dynamics...this bias is probably why nearly all these recs are so horny.) One day I will learn how to write proper smut in media res like this and not preface it with gratuitous plot.

---

worship like a dog | @thewalrus-said | Dream/Hob | E | 2.5K

“Is it so inconceivable that I might love you?” Dream murmured, running his manicured nail down Hob’s cheek. Hob tried to speak, swallowed, and tried again. “No one ever has before,” he said. “No one but God.”

Hob is a priest. Dream is a demon, except he's not. Dizzyingly hot for so many reasons, with a delightful canon dialogue echo. And again, must stress this: Hob is a priest. Hob is a priest. Hob is a priest, go read it.

---

Safehouse | Anonymous | Hob/Corinthian | E | 5K

“I need a room. One without a door.”

The best execution of the sex pollen trope I've ever seen, with the worst men. Very, very good fic with a brilliant premise and unerring execution. World-building is done in such brief but vivid strokes - it feels like a 50K fic whenever I remember it, and I'm always surprised how short it actually is. Haunts me in the best of ways.

---

As well - these fics are well-known and well-loved - but some stories that are utterly wonderful and contain lines that haunt me weeks, sometimes months later - stories that rearranged my soul, lurched me closer towards writing for Sandman, and warrant mention even though I am SURE you have read them, include:

@moorishflower's iconic and beautiful Odyssey fic, maybe sprout wings was the first fic I commented on with my AO3 account, and among the best fics I've ever read in any fandom; slightly deeper cuts from Heather's oeuvre (if, for some reason you are not reading everything already) that I am obsessed with and have reread multiple times: vowel shift, most vain devices, an act of faith. Genius stuff and unbelievably gorgeous language. Just go read it all, honestly

@softest-punk's Shelter is one of the first Sandman fics I ever read, and is beyond lovely; if you have not read their entire deep and profoundly lovely back catalogue, I recommend Catching Up (quintessential Cecil deep tissue emotional massage), Delayed (or: my favourite kink and favourite Endless); Ferrous (vampires! bad men! ahh! ooh!); and I would of course be remiss and ungrateful to not mention self-abandon, and the confounding effects thereof, a 10K fic that perfectly answered my general question of how the three lads would actually get together once the Corinthian and Hob had started fucking (as narrative foils that deserve such treats)

@xx-vergil-xx's Hounds is an ongoing epic that has singlehandedly caused me more emotions than humanity has language for; it is ambitious in scope and sticks every landing. The world is alive and lovingly-detailed. The language is a poem. It is so smart, so beautiful, and so well-researched and built. It is a TEMPLE unto itself, and appropriately worthy of worship

I will also suggest you read absolutely everything by @that-banhus because she literally cannot miss and writes the loveliest, cleverest worlds. All of it.

[raycatz]

Name your twilight princess Link Gloam

[catcas22]

"The Gloam-Eyed Queen cradles newborn apostles swaddled in this cloth. Soon they will grow to become the death of the gods."

Melina and the baby apostle from Prince of Death ch120. If anybody could've raised these little monsters right, she could've.

[skyward-floored]

Courage of Ages: motorcycle chase

*shuffles in*

So the other day I mentioned I found an old fic of a modern au of my Links meeting au, and a few people seemed interested so I cleaned it up and here we are. I have some other fics with these guys floating around, but this is the only modern au one I have so some things are a little different heh.

Who’s who—

Slate: botw Link

Light: 4s adventures Link

Spirit: st Link

Windy: ww Link

Gloam: tp Link

Era: hw Link

And content warning for guns, some injuries, and just sort of dramatic car-chasey things. It’s not too bad, but I figured I better warn you all because stuff does happen. Enjoy.

————————————————————

“Slate we’re being followed!” Light yelled over the wind.

The teenager driving the motorcycle glanced behind them, then tensed, gripping the handlebars more tightly as he sped up. Windy and Spirit, who were squeezed into the sidecar, yelped as they sped along the road, the black car behind them gradually gaining despite their increased speed.

Light suddenly heard a bang and he ducked, something wizzing by his head and coming so close to his ear he felt it go by.

“They’ve got guns Slate!”

“I kinda figured that out!”

Slate began to swerve, making them all a more difficult target as more gunfire came from behind them.

“What do we do?!” Spirit gasped, face white as a bullet whizzed by his head. Windy pulled him down, looking no less worried but slightly less terrified.

“Why are they even chasing us?” Windy questioned with his brows drawn. “It’s not like we’re rich or anything!”

“Well at least they’re crummy shots,” Light commented as they continued to be shot at, but pointedly not hit. “Maybe we don’t—“

The SUV suddenly put on a burst of speed and ended up right next to them, all four of the teenagers on the bike yelping in surprise. The window of the car rolled down and a large figure in an eerie white and red mask stared at them.

“Slate why aren’t you speeding up?!”

“I can’t without crashing!”

The man leaned out a bit, and they all froze as he held a gun out directly towards Slate.

“The Yiga Clan does nothing by halves,” he sneered in a deep voice, then clicked off the safety.

Light felt his heart leap with fear, but then Slate slammed on the brakes, sending the car shooting off in front of them while he swerved down a side road. Light clung on for dear life as he took a few more sharp turns down some side streets and alleys, then eventually ended back up on a bigger road, farther out from the city.

“Think I bought us a minute or two,” Slate gasped, getting back up a speed no doubt way over the speed limit.

“Now what do we do?!” Spirit yelped, sounding a little hysterical despite them no longer being chased, “who’s the Yiga Clan? Is it like some sort of a gang?! Who made a gang angry?!”

“I bet it was you Light!” Windy accused with a hint of a joke in his voice, and Light was about to protest when cheery music suddenly rang out from Slate’s pocket.

They all fell into surprised silence as the tune continued to play.

“Is that your phone?”

“Oh crap if that’s Gloam we’ll never hear the end of it—“

“Who cares?! Pick it up!”

Light snatched Slate’s, well, slate from his pocket, and picked up the call, nearly dropping the phone as they went over a particularly bumpy spot in the road.

“Hello?” he asked hesitantly.

“Light? Where’s Slate? Where are you guys? You were supposed to be back hours ago!” Gloam’s voice demanded through the slate, loud enough that the rest of them could hear it. “I’ve been trying to call you for almost an hour!”

Light swallowed. “Well, uh, we kinda stayed late to help clean up, and then we saw Malon so we stopped to talk to her, and Erune was around too and then we were talking about this restaurant—“

“Forget that!” Windy interrupted, snatching the slate out of Light’s hands, “Gloam we’re being—“

Tires squealed behind them and the black car reappeared from a side road, more gunshots immediately ringing out as soon as they had a clear shot.

All of the Links yelped and ducked down again, bullets grazing the side of Slate’s bike.

“Aw, I just the paint redone!”

“Windy were those gunshots?” Gloam’s voice came through the slate, sounding frantic.

“Yeah, we’re kinda being chased by crazies in masks with guns?” the teenager explained, equally frantic. “Could you maybe—“

More gunshots rang out, and Windy’s voice cut off into a loud cry.

“Windy!”

Light frantically tried to get a look at his friend, who’d doubled over and was clutching his arm, but the gunshots continued, and one of the bullets finally hit true. It punctured Slate’s back tire, causing the bike to veer wildly towards the edge of the road, and Light could only watch in horror as they swerved straight towards a ditch.

“Oh— hang on!”

The Links all screamed as Slate failed to regain control, and the motorcycle flipped over the guardrail, crashing into the ravine below.

———

A black SUV slowly pulled to a stop where the motorcycle had gone off the road, the guardrail blackened and bent.

Two large men got out of the vehicle, both sporting white masks with a blood-red eye painted on the front. The first pointed down at the ditch and the other leaned over the edge with a heavy-duty flashlight, slowly trawling it over the smoking wreckage of the bike below.

They paused at the sight of an empty helmet lying in the dirt, then continued on.

They searched for what seemed like forever, shining the light over the bushes and rocks, but eventually shut off the light, chuckling to each other. They exchanged a few words, then got back in the SUV and drove away, leaving the wreckage to burn out in silence.

The road went still.

And Slate dazedly poked his head up out of the bushes.

“Guys?” he called out hesitantly, wincing as he shook out an arm.

He wasn’t really hurt from the crash amazingly, apart from some small cuts and bruises. He’d managed to jump off the bike and land in a bush, the branches cuschioning his fall, and he’d thought the others had been right behind him.

Evidently not.

“Slate?”

The teenager turned at the voice, several bushes down from where he had landed. He pushed his way towards it through the shrubs, then gasped, quickly shoving his way through the last one when he saw who it was.

Light lay on the ground, awake, but tightly clutching his leg, face twisted up in pain.

“Light! Hylia, are you okay?” he asked, dropping to his side.

Light stared at him, wincing as he raised an eyebrow. “Dandy. Thanks for asking. I feel great, fantastic even. Maybe I’ll take up ballet—“

He cut off into a sharp keen of pain, and Slate looked down at his leg, feeling his stomach churn when he saw the angle it was at.

“That looks pretty bad Light.”

Light growled and managed to pull himself up into a seating position, breathing heavily through his nose. A few tears shone in his eyes, but he quickly wiped them away when he thought Slate wasn’t looking.

“‘S fine. Are... are those g-guys gone?”

Slate nodded. “They’re gone.”

Light sighed in relief and let his head rest against one of the larger bushes’ trunks.

“Who the heck were they?” he muttered, face set in a worried frown. “I can’t believe they were shooting at us, that’s like, ten different kinds of illegal. And you especially, what was that about?”

Slate bit his lip. “I don’t know. But they... they seemed kinda familiar,” he said, nervously scratching his neck. Him and Light went quiet for a second.

“Do you know where Windy is?” Light asked next, face worried. “Or S-Spirit? They okay?”

Slate shook his head. “I don’t know. You’re the only one I’ve—“

A pained cry cut him off, and the two boys exchanged wide-eyed looks. Light attempted to scramble to his feet, and Slate quickly threw an arm under his shoulder, helping him up and then rushing off in the direction of the sound. The two shoved foliage out of the way as fast as they could, then Slate froze at the sight in front of them, forcing Light to a stop as well.

His motorcycle’s sidecar was above him, wedged loosely in a cleft between two rocks. It looked like it had somehow been flung there after the crash, separated entirely from the bike, and hung precariously over a deeper part of the ravine, teetering in the breeze as if something had just shaken it.

Windy lay on the ground beneath it, face white and shoulder red.

“Windy!” Slate and Light gasped at the same time, and they stumbled to his side, nearly tripping in their haste. The teenager managed to sit up a little as Slate skidded to his side and helped Light down, but his face was twisted in a grimace. Slate put a hand on his unhurt arm and studied the bloodiest looking part of his shoulder, then steadily met the sailor’s eyes.

“Hey. Windy are you okay?” he asked, looking directly at his pale face. The kid swallowed and nodded, then looked up at the sidecar.

“Spirit’s still... still in the s-sidecar,” Windy murmured, and Light grasped his good arm when he started to list to the side. “I tried t-to climb up and get him, but my shoulder...”

“I’ll get him Windy,” Slate assured through his growing panic, gently propping him in a sitting position. It looked like Windy had been nicked by a bullet from what he could tell, and that more than anything was what was making his hands shake.

Why did I ever offer them all a ride home?

“Light, help him keep pressure on his shoulder alright?” he asked in a voice he had to fight to keep from shaking.

Light nodded, and Slate gave them both a reassuring look which he didn’t really feel.

“Okay. I’ll be right back.”

He then began climbing the small cliff, careful not to shift any rocks as he went in case they caused the sidecar to break loose. He winced as several pebbles hit his face, and looked over at his poor sidecar, but he couldn’t see anyone inside from the angle he was at.

“Spirit?” he called, but got no response.

When Slate finally reached the sidecar, he swung himself onto what appeared to be a sturdy ledge, and immediately peeked in... then blanched at the sight inside. Spirit lay at the bottom of the car, pale and unmoving. His helmet was gone, and Slate could see a small gash on his temple, trickling blood down his face and getting in his hair.

“Spirit,” he breathed, and carefully leaned closer.

Slate gently nudged him, but Spirit didn’t react in the slightest, and he quickly stretched his hand out to press his fingers to his neck. A steady-enough beat pulsed under the pads of his fingers and he let out a small sigh of relief. He was breathing at least, that was a start.

Slate shifted his footing on the ledge, and carefully leaned his weight on the sidecar, reaching out to try and pull Spirit closer to him. Something shifted as he leaned though, and he froze, listening to a few pieces of rubble patter down the cliff.

The car was too precariously balanced on the rocks. If he continued to lean on it, the sidecar would likely come loose, crumbling the hillside and sending both him and Spirit to the bottom of the rather steep drop.

But leaning on the sidecar was the only way he’d be able to get Spirit out.

Slate groaned to himself and took a deep breath, then moving as lightly as possible, put more of his weight on the car. It creaked ominously, but Slate ignored it and managed to grab Spirit’s arm, tugging the younger boy closer towards him. Something shifted under his foot, and he bit his lip as he tried to tug Spirit faster, but the younger boy’s leg was stuck on something.

“Ohh, come on,” Slate muttered worriedly, but Spirit’s leg wouldn’t come loose no matter how hard he tugged.

He’d have to climb in the sidecar and get it loose himself.

Slate gritted his teeth, then before his common sense decided to kick in, scrambled forward into the car, ignoring the loud groan that rang out.

Light and Windy shouted something below him, but Slate ignored them as the car shifted under his feet. He quickly tugged Spirit loose from where his leg had been trapped, and bundled the younger boy into his arms before attempting to climb back to the ledge where he’d been perching.

But with Slate’s added weight, the precarious balance of the sidecar has been disturbed. And with an ominous crack, he felt the entire thing began to fall down the cliff.

He only had seconds to make a decision, and without a moment’s hesitation, Slate frantically leapt out of the car. He clutched Spirit to his chest with one arm and reached desperately for the ledge he knew he was too far away to grab with the other. Light and Windy cried out again, and Slate felt his outstretched fingers just barely brush the cliffside.

Then he felt his stomach drop as gravity tugged him and Spirit downwards to the unforgiving ground.

Until two hands snagged his.

Slate gasped as his and Spirit’s fall was abruptly stopped, and he held tightly to the younger boy as he looked up at their savior. Era looked down at him, grunting with the weight of the two as his scarf flapped gently in the wind.

“Era?” he gasped out, heart beating nearly out of his chest. The older Link didn’t reply, merely steadily pulled him and Spirit up, not saying anything until they were safely up on solid ground.

Then he pulled them both into his arms, breathing out a great sigh of relief.

“You all are going to be the death of me I just know it,” he said somewhat breathlessly, giving them both a hug. Slate closed his eyes for a second, letting the steady arms around him help calm him down, and sighed in relief as well.

That had been way too close.

Era pulled back a bit, tilting Spirit’s head with the utmost care as he studied the cut on his temple. “Where are Windy and Light?”

Slate breathed in, his heart still thudding too fast, and gestured below them towards the bushes.

“Down there, they’re hurt, but... they’re okay,” he managed to get out, and Era gently gave his shoulder a squeeze. “How’d... how’d you get here so fast?”

“Gloam sent me the location on your phone. I happened to be nearby, thank goodness,” he murmured, brushing a hand over Spirit’s forehead. “He’s coming too, I’d expect him shortly.“

Slate nodded, only half-processing what he was saying. He was feeling a bit distant from everything all of a sudden, and barely noticed when Era gently set Spirit down in his lap and went to go check on Windy and Light. Slate messed idly with the younger boy’s hair while he held a cloth to his injury, and time seemed to blur a bit as he waited, watching him breathe steadily in his lap.

But before he knew it, Spirit was suddenly being tugged out of his lap, and Slate was pulled into a crushing hug.

“Goddesses I’m glad you’re okay,” a voice Slate recognized as Gloam’s breathed as he squeezed him. Slate rested his head on his shoulder, and sank into his arms a little. “Don’t give me such a terrifying phone call ever again.”

“To be fair, you were actually the one who called him,” Era said from nearby, and Slate belatedly realized both Light and Windy were only a few feet away from him. Apparently Era has gotten them both up out of the ditch, though both were rather pale.

“I don’t care who called who, I just don’t want to receive another phone call where I hear you all being chased and shot at,” Gloam said, still hugging Slate. He sighed and pulled back, and scanned his face. “Are you hurt?”

“Not really,” Slate answered quietly. “Some bruises, little sore. The others are worse, did you call an ambulance yet?”

“No,” Era said, checking on Spirit again. “And we’re not going to.”

“Wait, what?” Slate asked, looking over at him in confusion. “Why not?”

“Yeah, a motorcycle crash and bullet wound and everything else would generally be considered a 911 kind of situation,” Light murmured with a raised eyebrow.

Era and Gloam exchanged looks.

“...if these men were who we think they were... it wouldn’t have been wise,” Era said quietly. “Light told me they said they were Yiga clan. And Yiga don’t just randomly chase down a bunch of teenagers. If you went to the hospital they might find you there. And based on what happened here... they had a reason for what they did.”

“What kind of reason?” Light asked in a quiet voice.

Era sighed, but before he could reply, Windy suddenly sagged, nearly falling over backwards. Light managed to catch him, but Windy still looked dazed, and Gloam quickly went to help him.

“‘m alright,” Windy mumbled, and Era shook his head.

“No, you’re not. This conversation can wait, let’s get you all home,” he murmured, standing up with Spirit in his arms. “We’ll call Hibiscus, if he can’t fix you all up he’ll know someone who can.”

The rest of them merely nodded in exhaustion.

Getting them all fixed up enough to get home and then settled into Gloam’s car took some doing, and Light actually passed out at one point, which Slate supposed was a small mercy considering how much they were moving him and his leg.

Era continued to hold Spirit as he settled into the front next to Gloam, and Windy slid carefully in next to Slate, his arm wrapped as tightly as they could get it. Light got set in between them, and as they finally drove off, Slate rested his head on the window, closing his eyes in exhaustion.

His mind was working in overdrive trying to figure out why those masks had seemed so familiar, but he wasn’t coming up with anything. The red eyes printed on them filled him with a sickening dread and anger, but he had no clue why.

And not knowing was freaking him out.

He sighed, and felt Light stir a little from next to him, mumbling a bit. He looked over, then wordlessly pulled Light’s head to rest on his shoulder, the other boy relaxing and falling back asleep.

Slate himself drifted off a few minutes later, the night’s events finally catching up to him.

[brotherscain]

What's your favourite headcanon of something that happened in the Impala?

ever since i read it in a fic i CANNOT stop loving the idea of sam and dean both bringing girls “home” (the impala) at the same time. to me, this happened so much when sammy first started getting sexually curious—dean’s perfect student

because it’s a bit weirder all around to do that as grown men (even for them, especially for the women), they don’t. but the other will always *know*. it’s not like anyone’s trying to hide it. in fact they WANT the other to know, to have a comment, to be thinking about how his brother just nastyfucked in baby. like this is their way of having sex with each other. @-@ freaks.

[phoenixiancrystallist]

Month 5, day 21 IN TANTA WE TRUST SOON AM EXCITE!!!!

For art tonight, I extended the time between the last two blinks before it loops and adjusted the frames per second. For some reason my program defaults to 15? I like doing 24fps, so that's what I changed it to, but then I held all of the frames on twos so it basically amounts to 12fps because animation is weird, y'all XD

I might take advantage of the higher fps to smooth out his blinks, or for the extra sass animation I plan to add with his tail :3 Or both! I'll find out when you find out lol

[capegloam]

hate being obsessed with my ocs. i just wanna read fanfics about them but I MADE THEM. I HAVE TO WRITE THE STUPID FICS. AAAUGGHRRUGH

[fancy-rock-dove]

Hehehehehe.

Oh here, @landwriter also a direct attack, then:

Still and always obsessed with the characters’ relationship to narrative where the Sandman and its transformations are involved and Oaths in particular does it SO BEAUTIFULLY (spoilers ahead btw). The way the relationship to the Story and where story has a place and a purpose in life is a beautiful throughline that I just keep on turning over and over in my brain. The fact that it is a STORY specifically that sent Hob running back into the woods has me screaming still because. Ok:

Because another key moment here in the same chapter is when Hob reproaches how their last parting was crafted “like a story” (which is true, it does make a good tragic ending) not only because he a) knows that with the proximity he has to it, and when the players are real people, any romance in the tragedy is so completely senseless and negated to him in the face of the actual real loss that, to hear him tell it, the story is absolutely terrible (brilliant move AND a tragically funny moment there, btw), but also because b) he has an established problem with the whole concept of living in any way motivated by the kind of story or legacy you’d make because to be first and foremost in a story is to be practically dead already, with your choice and agency stripped by distance and narrator and the needs of the narrative for the sake of the listener.

It’s just so COOL that this is all TRUE and IMPORTANT specifically in this story where that can still, even so, stand in contrast to how VITAL stories also are here. The way stories are the tool used to pass down the important information about the world Hob’s caught a glimpse of, and the way, in their very first interaction, Dream reproached humanity’s loss of fey knowledge by means of the old stories when they first met. The way Dream’s whole ENTIRE existence for a long time has been wholly devoted to sowing stories among humans, because he practically considers himself dead already so of course he feels the only way he can touch/benefit the world is as a story himself. And the way the importance of stories IS true too, and was Just Demonstrated because Hob could have found a lot of reasons to have hope and return but it was Stories that ended up being the catalyst for it specifically.

It’s just so good that they are both proving each other RIGHT and WRONG at the same time. And little does Hob in-universe know that his refusal to LIVE the “nice story” is actually exactly the thing that is advancing the plot of a very, very old and widely-told tale, because it’s the refusal to not live fully that often actually makes the best, most worthwhile tales in the first place. And ultimately they are both RIGHT but both their approaches were incomplete and it takes them BOTH to make the full narrative that is also a living happy ending for themselves. And so, contrasting those two things specifically right here in this chapter is such a beautifully elegant way of showing that both are necessary (both viewpoints, both approaches, both of THEM are needed) in order to catalyze the climax we were expecting all along. It’s so, so good and I am obsessed with it.

So YEAH, very excited for worm times. ❤️

lil oaths doodle for @landwriter

[quona]

Scaling New Heights 🏰Towerziraphale & 🐉Dragon/Snek Crowley! --- --- ---

This is my piece for @contritecactite's FANTASTICALLY WEIRD AND WONDERFUL fic, Scaling New Heights (Explicit; AO3) in the GO Fairytale Bang!

In the story, Aziraphale is a sentient magical tower, and Crowley is a middling nobleman who is cursed, on the run, and in desperate need of shelter.

I decided to illustrate the very first scene where Crowley, unwillingly in snake form (that's the curse!), finds a lonely tower in the middle of a field with a window slightly ajar, and decides to slither on up.

If he’d heard three days ago that there would be a coup, he wouldn’t even have thought himself important enough to chase, but here he is, running through the woods and trying desperately to keep ahead of his pursuers. Red hair had never seemed like much of a blessing until now, but the gloaming and the autumn foliage work well together to keep him obscured when he stops to breathe. He can still hear them, not far behind, and he knows he has to keep moving. He’s not running for very long, though, before the foliage runs out and he finds himself exposed in a massive meadow. The expanse is surely too long to cross. His fear, previously calmed to a dull roar, flares up at the realization that he’ll be caught, and then he is no longer running but slithering. There’s nowhere to go. There is low grass as far as he can see. He can’t hear the crowd behind him, but the ground shakes with their footsteps. They can surely see him, a massive dark shape caught in the rising moonlight. He changes direction, hoping they’ll all just keep going in a straight line, and then he sees it: a tall tower half-covered in vines. His body seems to carry him there instinctively, and once he’s circled the tower, the only way he sees to go is up. He finds the side that, as far as he can tell, is the farthest from where he started, and he begins his clumsy, wobbling climb up the rough brick. His haste makes it chafe against his sensitive belly, and he has to remind himself to keep going every time he realizes he’s left the ground entirely—how do snakes even work? He’d have paid more attention to them if he’d known he’d be in this position someday—but he makes it to an open window and slithers inside. He drapes himself across the cool floor, exhausted. Just as he begins to fall asleep, he feels his body change back to its usual form, and he hears someone tut at him. “Silly creature. I do have a front door, you know.” Scaling New Heights (Explicit; AO3)

[it-happened-one-fic]

Hours in the Moonlight: Somnolent Gloaming - 1. Dead Memories and the Undead

Summary: You’d only just started getting used to the slight sleepiness that filled your evenings as you waited for Crowley’s next orders when they finally came. But the time has come for you to meet the oldest clan in this district as well as the multitude of vampires it houses.

Series Type: Gender-neutral reader/ Vampire AU/ series/ romantic/ angst/ angst with comfort/ fluff/ sfw/ platonic interactions too!

Trigger Warning: Vampire

Word Count: 2371

Hours in the Moonlight Master-List

I didn’t even really know how much time had passed since Vargas had told me he would see if he could get Crowley to send me to the Diasomnia clan next. But it had been enough time that I was starting to get rather bored and had even pulled out one of my old books that I had read countless times in the past.

At first, it had been nice not having to go to a clan and evaluate potentially aggressive vampires. I had plenty of money to last me with the funds Crowley sent as payment for my job as his Hunter. But soon things had become dull, and I’d started visiting my friends.

I’d told both Vil and Leona about my hopes for evaluating the Diasomnia clan next and the reasoning behind it, but neither had seemed terribly happy. In fact, Leona seemed downright annoyed by the very name of the clan, while Vil had cautioned me to be extra careful if I did get to go there.

Kalim, for his part, had suggested I bring a gift when I got to go.

And in all honesty, we all knew that rather than a question of ‘if’ it really was a matter of ‘when.’

 Crowley had made it pretty clear that I was going to be evaluating all of the clans. The only one that might not be on that list would be the Pomefiore clan since they’d only just been formed.

For better or worse, I was going to end up at the Diasomnia clan at some point. Whatever that might entail.

I looked up from my book at the quiet sound of knocking on my window, wondering which one of the guys it was. Perhaps Vil?

I sat the book down and walked over, unhurriedly to the window, and pulled back the curtains only to find bright pink eyes staring back at me.

Sam’s face split into a grin as my own eyes widened and I hurriedly opened the window, “Sam?!” 

I couldn’t even keep my surprise at seeing him out of my voice, but he merely held up a hand, waving at me with a wide grin, “Long time no see, Little Imp. We had to decide if you were ready to evaluate the Diasomnia Clan, so sorry for the wait.”

His eyes were alight with amusement, but I found myself faltering as his words fully registered.

They’d had to decide if I was ready for the Diasomnia Clan? 

It brought to mind Vil’s warnings and had me frowning as I stepped back, giving Sam ample room if he decided he wanted to come in, even though I pretty well knew he was just going to lounge in my window like he usually did.

“And? What was decided?” I eyed him closely, and Sam chuckled slightly at my wary words.

“Well, you’re in luck, Little Imp. In light of what a good job you’ve been doing and your reasons for suggesting it, Crowley’s decided to grant your request. They’re already expecting you at the clan, so when can you be ready to go?” My eyes widened slightly at his words before I gestured to my bag that stayed packed with my various tools.

“Just give me a sec, I’ll be right down,” Sam nodded, an amicable bobbing of his head before he disappeared from my window.

I glanced down at the street in time to see him land lightly on his feet and begin strolling along as if nothing were amiss. I shook my head slightly, wondering if I would ever get used to that before I darted over to my nightstand.

My hands quickly found my cross necklace, and I clasped it around my neck. Letting it fall as if by habit under my shirt to rest comfortably against my collarbone.

Thoughts were already beginning to roll around in my head as I trotted out the door, down the stairs, and to the bottom floor. 

And my concerns only increased as Sam smiled at me, turned on his heel, and started to lead the way down the street in a perfectly cryptic fashion.

I knew that the Diasomnia clan had some ancient members from what Vil and Rook had told. And similarly, Jamil had implied that the clan was also quite old since their records apparently dated back quite a ways. Perhaps that was why Vil had told me to be careful and Crowley had been deciding if I were ready? All Leona had said about them was something about some lizard whom he seemed to particularly dislike. And while I didn’t really know if were-creatures could be reptilian, that was my best guess at this point.

I felt myself frowning more as I silently walked with Sam, wondering when we would reach the Diasomnia clan headquarters. We were steadily heading closer and closer to the outskirts of the historic side of town.

In the distance, I could see an old building rising over the other houses and trees that now crowded it. Hiding it from the view of the street and giving it an especially ominous appearance that somehow seemed to call out to anyone who gazed at it for too long.

The perfect Hollywood fit for a creepy old house hiding something that probably shouldn’t be messed with.

In fact, it was a little too perfect.

I leaned forward, my eyes staying on the building as I spoke softly, “Um… Would that happen to be the Diasomnia Clan right there?”

Sam chuckled but nodded, barely glancing my way as he answered, “That obvious, huh?” He shook his head slightly before continuing, an amused smile still on his face, “Yeah, that’s it. The only reason they stay hidden is because it’s difficult to actually get into the building because the gate is so overgrown and off the main road, so most people don’t even bother trying. And even if they do, this clan is good at running people off.”

So saying he turned off the sidewalk, lifting one leg to step over a small bush and crunch down onto a veritable pile of limbs, sticks, and who knew what else.

He held out his hand to me, politely helping me over the bush before he turned and headed off down what looked about like an old goat path into the underbrush that concealed the ancient building.

I glanced around, frowning as I spotted the overgrown metal gates that gave way to a fence that seemed to surround the area. As if operated by a motion sensor, the gates opened as soon as we approached, and I felt my eyebrows raise as we passed through them.

“What was this place originally?” It felt like my head was on swivel as I continued to glance around at what had probably once been a glorious entrance to the mansion grounds themselves. Now it was mostly overgrown, with roses and vines climbing up the fencing in their futile efforts to reach any sunlight that might shine down between the trees’ now bare limbs.

Sam glanced my way, watching as I looked around the two of us and the notably daunting environment we now stood in. 

But unlike the other clans, this place actually had the feeling of the setting place of a vampire story. Campy or otherwise.

“I heard that the head of clan’s second bought the place, and then, after the clan moved in, let the place get run down like this so no one would come here and bother them,” I nodded idly at Sam’s words. Silently wondering how much money it would take to buy a place like this that had so obviously been magnificent many years ago.

But now… Now it was more like a haunted mansion where only dead memories resided. Or rather, dead memories and the undead themselves, in this case.

I couldn’t deny that the building was beautiful, though. An architecture of stone and metalwork that stood tall and proud despite its age. Almost like it was daring us to approach it.

And it was true that while I’d been nervous when first visiting the other clan’s headquarters, this building on its own was almost more daunting than any of the past experiences had been. 

This one actually looked like it might hold something that wasn’t meant to be seen by the normal person. Instead, the only ones who would go near it would be the hapless protagonists of a horror movie.

Or someone like me. A person who had business with the creatures that would reside in such a building. Once grand and filled with character, but now haunted looking in the way it loomed over us.

Sam knocked on the door calmly, looking around at the shadowed porch with vague interest until the thick wooden door creaked open, drawing both of our attention.

A short man looked between the two of us, his bright red eyes blinking at us. And despite the fact the building matched the entire vampire aesthetic perfectly, this man did not, what with bright pink streaks in his short, otherwise black hair. 

If anything, he looked more like a young teenager who was still experimenting with his look and most definitely wasn’t what I’d expected.

But, when he spoke with a smile crossing his face that didn’t even try to hide his fangs, his voice was far lower than what I’d been prepared for too, “Ah, you must be the head-vampire’s new Hunter. We’ve been expecting you.”

I faltered when he addressed me rather than Sam before nodding hurriedly, “Yes. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He let out a light giggle before stepping aside and gesturing into the building, “Oh no, the pleasure is all mine, child. But come in, both of you. Malleus will be wanting to see you after all.”

Me and Sam followed the little man in silence. As per usual, Sam was relaxed. His eyes stayed forward and on the path while I, on the other hand, was glancing around at the aged interior of the building.

It was dark in here, something that surprised me since the other clan’s headquarters had been better lit. But somehow it fit the building’s overall character, and, as I looked around, each room seemed to be very well decorated.

This clan also seemed to be rather large. Vampires filled the building and glanced at us as we went by.  

Their eyes lingered on me, but no one approached or even leaned out of a room to continue to gaze after us. Curiosity and arrogance tinged with hunger filled their stares, though.

Sam glanced over at me, letting himself drift closer as he began to talk in a low voice, letting some space spread between us and our guide, “The Diasomnia clan is an old one, with a variety of characters as its members. Both Malleus, the clan’s head, and Lilia, the clan’s second, are ancient, though. They’ll probably have the records you want, assuming they exist. But remember that you’re also here to evaluate the clan.”

I nodded silently, my eyes staying on Sam as the man continued with the slightest of smiles on his face. And at this point, I was honestly beginning to wonder if anything could phase him at all.

“We aren’t very suspicious of this clan simply due to its age, but we’ll be checking up on you fairly regularly just like usual. And you may want to brace yourself,” I frowned at Sam’s words, but the young man’s grin only spread as he bobbed his head to a door we now approached, “He’s going to look a bit different than what you might expect.”

I turned, noting the door we were coming up on and how our pace was slowing. And, confirming my suspicions, our guide turned to look at the two of us with a little smile, his voice taking on a slightly lilt, “Here we are.” 

With only those words, he turned. Grasping both of the curved door handles and pulling them open as if they were weightless despite how obviously thick they were.

I inhaled, half expecting fog to come pouring out of the doors like it did in some b-rated horror movies, but it didn’t. Instead, as we entered the large room, the first thing I saw was a young man sitting on a dark-colored chair.

On either side of him stood two other men. One, whose hair was a shock of pale green, stood tall. Almost like he was at attention as he looked our way with a slight frown. The other young man was, conversely, more relaxed as he glanced towards me with almost tired eyes.

My own eyes widened slightly as I recognized him. But then he was quite distinctive, with such pale hair and fascinating eyes. 

This was the man who was a human in a clan of vampires and the man I’d bumped into on Halloween. Silver, Vil had called him.

I swallowed slightly before forcing my gaze back to the young man in the chair. He must be Malleus, leader of this clan.

 It wasn’t hard to guess what Sam meant about him looking a little different than I might expect. After all, the dark, slightly curled horns protruding from his head and delicately pointed ears certainly weren’t something that any other vampire I’d ever seen had.

He tilted his head, glowing lime green eyes focusing on me and I felt myself go still.

Somehow, this man practically oozed power. Perhaps it was the way he held himself with a confidence that was on par with Leona and Vil’s despite also being different.

A smile curved slowly across his face, and I swallowed. 

I was getting used to every vampire I met being absurdly attractive, but somehow it always felt incredibly unfair. Though it might have been the focused way this man was looking at me that made it quite so bad this time.

“So we finally meet.” His voice rolled out into the room, almost like it was trying to cover the entire space, and I felt myself straighten slightly. Bracing myself even as he continued with an almost amused smile, “What do you need, little Hunter?”

If you would like to read more:

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[ladyviolethummingbird]

The Gloaming - Chapter 10 Preview 🏰

Ch 10: From Afar

Head full of thoughts of Claire, Jamie wound his way along darkened corridors towards his bedchamber. Within him there was a lightness; the weightless and floating kind that made his feet feel as though they were barely touching the ground as he walked. At the same time there was a heaviness; pressure on his chest like he could scarcely draw breath from how all-encompassing his feelings were. Having never been in love before, he had no idea if it was normal to feel so jumbled up inside, so he instead settled for replaying his evening spent with Claire; recalling with pleasure just how beautiful she’d looked in the light of the fading fire.

Having not paid much heed to the direction he was taking, Jamie found himself at the foot of the stairs where Claire had fallen and despite his bones aching with tiredness, a niggling feeling propelled him to crouch down and take a closer look. Something about a graceful and surefooted woman stumbling on steps she’d descended hundreds of times hadn’t sat right and as he swept his hands over the smooth wood he anticipated finding a loose board or nail to account for it. Squinting at the dimly lit staircase he had detected nothing out of the ordinary when his fingertips suddenly slid into something cold and wet. Startled by the unpleasant sensation, he yanked his hands back, hurriedly glancing around for the source. With nothing appearing out of place, all he could think to account for it was a window blowing open during the storm, however a quick check showed all those nearby were fastened shut. There was probably a perfectly logical explanation for the wet stairs but a feeling in Jamie’s wame told him otherwise, and with a shiver he pulled the shawl he wore a little tighter around himself. The cause of the damp stairs became apparent when the smell hit him. Such a strong and distinctive odour he wondered how he could have missed it earlier. Spicy, fruity and not quite sweet, it was unmistakably brandy.

He rubbed his eyes trying to think, Claire’s voice floating into his head “The smell alone makes me gag”…“I must’ve misjudged a step”… “No need to wake anyone else”… It was all connected he knew, only he couldn’t see through the fog in his brain to work out how. As the questions swirled, Jamie felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck, as though he was being watched.

———

Geez it’s been a minute….writing this chapter has been like getting blood from a stone and it’s still not quite done. Little preview for anyone still interested xx

[dystopicjumpsuit]

The Plant Prowler of Pabu

A/N: I’m scared that Pabu is going to be toast after this week, so I wrote a little fluff to make myself feel better. Also, this is the first time I’ve been able to finish a fic in six weeks, so… yay me!

Pairing: Crosshair x Reader (GN)

Rating: T (but MDNI as always)

Wordcount: 2.1K

Warnings and tags: mild language; fluff; a kiss; spoilers for The Bad Batch season 3

Summary: Exploring the island during his first morning on Pabu, Crosshair encounters a mastermind of botanical crime: you.

Suggested Listening: 

Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

Whoever said, “It’s darkest just before dawn” had clearly never woken up to go for a walk before sunrise. Even if Crosshair hadn’t had enhanced vision, it would have been easy for him to navigate his way down to the beach of Pabu in the dim half-light. Hunter had wordlessly watched him exit the Marauder, pretending to still be asleep, but Crosshair knew that his brother would have drawn his vibroblade in a flash if he’d even glanced sideways at Omega.

Crosshair didn’t exactly blame Hunter for his caution, but it didn’t make it any easier to swallow. The squad had arrived on the idyllic island the previous day, and Crosshair was immediately swarmed by a horde of curious locals. With Hunter determined to keep Crosshair in sight at all times, there had been no escape from their onslaught of hospitality, and by the time the celebrations had died down, Crosshair had been clinging to the tattered threads of his patience and sanity.

It was a hell of a thing to go from barely speaking to anyone for months on end to suddenly being plunged into the midst of a vibrant and chaotic crowd of nosy spectators. He’d escaped to the Marauder at last and pretended to sleep, keenly aware of Hunter’s eyes on him. He’d spent enough time under the microscope in the past several months, though, and he was ready for some privacy.

And so it was that he found himself wandering down the empty terraced walkways of Pabu, making his way to the shoreline in the pale gloaming. He didn’t encounter a single soul as he walked—barring the ubiquitous moonyos that seemed to frolic across the island at all hours. Pabu was the sort of place that seemed too flawless to be real. Too flawless to last.

Not quite as flawless as it seems on the surface, he acknowledged as he turned down a path that snaked through one of the sections of the island that had yet to be rebuilt after the catastrophic sea surge he’d heard about countless times at the welcoming party the previous night. The buildings had been reduced to rubble, and judging by the weeds sprouting in the cracks of the walkway, the locals tended to avoid this particular part of the island.

Perfect.

The gentle breeze off the ocean was chilly, and he told himself it was the reason his hand trembled more than usual that morning. He shoved both hands deep into his pockets as he navigated the last few levels before he reached the beach. As he stepped onto the sand, a gust of wind buffeted against him. It was bracingly cold, and it smelled like salt and aquatic vegetation and wet earth, and he closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply and focusing on the sensation.

When he opened his eyes, a flicker of movement in his peripheral vision had him snapping his head to the side. He froze. A figure meandered slowly down the beach, sticking close to the bottom of the hill where the lush foliage grew thickly right up to the edge of the sand. He was certain you had spotted him, but you didn’t immediately acknowledge his presence.

He watched for a moment as you paused and stooped down to examine one of the plants, then carefully plucked a few bunches and laid them in the basket you carried. Bizarre. What the kriff was this person doing out here so early? Nothing innocent, that was for damned sure. Why would anyone sneak down to such an isolated stretch of the beach at this obscene hour if they didn’t have nefarious intent?

Aside from me, obviously.

He squinted slightly. Even with his enhanced eyesight, it was dark enough, and you were far enough away, that it was difficult to make out your features, but he was reasonably sure you hadn’t been at the party the night before. 

Hmph.

He turned and walked the opposite direction, away from the person who’d had the audacity to interrupt his solitude by getting to the beach first. Better not to get involved.

Crosshair took a different route the next morning, arriving at the beach just as the sun rose. As bad kriffing luck would have it, you were exiting the beach just as he arrived, and your paths inevitably intersected. He braced himself for a conversation, but you simply met his eyes and nodded quietly as you passed him.

He suppressed a sigh of relief. Stepping aside to make room for you to pass on the narrow trail, he couldn’t help noticing that your basket was filled with a variety of neat bundles of leaves and twigs. Odd, but your hobbies were none of his concern. Even if they did involve herb rustling and grand theft shrubbery.

He continued his path down to the shoreline and wandered along the water’s edge, staring out at the horizon. Out of the corner of his eye, he could still see your solitary figure making its way up the steep slope and into Lower Pabu. He was now completely sure that you’d not been at the welcoming party, nor had he encountered you in the village. It wasn’t that surprising; after all, hundreds of people lived on the island, and he wasn’t in any particular hurry to meet them all—or any of them, if he were honest.

Of course, he didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. Wrecker had flatly refused to allow Crosshair to isolate himself, while the gregarious mayor Shep Hazard seemed equally dedicated to the twin causes of thrusting Crosshair into the community and plying him with as much fruit as he could eat in a lifetime. He was starting to feel a tiny surge of violence every time he saw a jogan fruit.

On the third day, Batcher woke up with Crosshair and scrambled out of the Marauder, bounding ahead of him down the ramp and then turning to wiggle her entire body in anticipation as he followed. He let the lurca hound pick the path that morning, not bothering to hide his thin smile at Batcher’s endless curiosity and enthusiasm. She crisscrossed the walkways incessantly, sniffing and exploring, chasing the moonyos playfully down the hill, investigating every nook and cranny of the village, and easily running five times the distance that Crosshair traveled on their way down to the water.

The beach was empty this morning, to Crosshair’s relief. At last, some peace and quiet. Or at least as quiet and peaceful as it could be with Batcher rocketing back and forth across the wet sand, grunting and huffing as she charged into the surf and back up to Crosshair, crouching into a bow as she tried to entice him to play with her. When he didn’t immediately comply, she took off chasing a flock of seabirds, scattering them into the air in a cacophony of indignant squawking.

She chased the birds down the beach, barking joyously as she splashed through the surf. When the hound disappeared around a bend in the shoreline, Crosshair sped up slightly, not wanting to risk Omega’s wrath if anything happened to her pet on his watch. As he rounded the bend, he was greeted with a most unexpected sight: Batcher was lying on her back on the sand, writhing with delight as you rubbed her belly.

Your basket was overturned, and all the neat little bundles of herbs were strewn across the sand. It wasn’t hard to deduce the instigator of such carnage. Batcher spotted Crosshair and immediately jumped up and shook the sand off herself before rushing to greet him.

“Down,” he said sternly as she jumped up and swiped at him with her massive paws.

She dropped obediently, and trotted along next to him as he approached you. You’d already begun picking up your fallen bundles of leaves, and he quickly bent to assist you.

“Sorry about that,” he mumbled.

“No harm done,” you replied, shaking a bit of loose sand out of the bundles before you dropped them into your basket. “They all get washed before I hang them up to dry anyway.”

“So you’re not just engaging in botanical heists for the adrenaline rush?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah, it really gets the blood pumping,” you replied, deadpan. “My day just doesn’t feel complete without a little horticultural larceny.”

“I can see you like to live on the edge,” he said with a tiny smile. “The Plant Prowler of Pabu.”

“And I would have gotten away with it, if it weren’t for a mysterious stranger and his meddling dog.”

He liked you. Damn it.

Crosshair didn’t see you for the next several days. He assumed you’d moved your criminal enterprise elsewhere on the island, and after the team returned from Barton IV, he didn’t feel the same need to escape the Marauder as he had previously. Still, he wasn’t sleeping particularly well, and after an excruciatingly restless night, he slipped out of the ship not long before dawn and wandered aimlessly down the streets of Pabu until he found himself in the unstable section he’d discovered on the first day.

As he picked his way through the ruins, he spotted movement two terraces below, and he grinned. Forcing himself to walk casually so you didn’t suspect how pleased he was to see you, he sauntered down to your level, only to find you ripping weeds up from between the fragments of pavement with uncharacteristic abandon.

“What did those plants ever do to you?” he asked.

You must have spotted him before he arrived, because you didn’t even flinch at the sound of his voice.

“Invasive species,” you replied. “I try not to over-forage, but in this case, I’ll make an exception.”

“And I thought your crimes only extended to vegetational theft,” he drawled. “I had no idea you’d escalated to floral murder and agricultural vigilantism.”

“The hero Pabu needs,” you said with a smile that had no business being as charming as it was, considering you were currently covered in a fine layer of dirt and assorted bits of leaves and twigs. “If this plant gets established on the island, we might never be able to eradicate it. It will outcompete the native plants and could cause significant disruptions to the ecosystem.”

“How altruistic of you,” he remarked drily.

“Not at all,” you laughed. “It also happens to be delicious.”

Crosshair stooped down and pulled one of the plants up by the roots, examining it closely. “It’s on sight, then.”

“Exactly. No mercy.”

As the first rays of the sun appeared on the distant horizon, you packed the large bundles of weeds into your basket, then stood and dusted your hands off on your trousers. You stretched a bit, clearly a little stiff from your labor. Impulsively, Crosshair spoke.

“Want to watch the sunrise with me?” You looked surprised at his offer, and he cleared his throat, looking awkwardly away. “Or do you turn into a meiloorun if you stay out past dawn?”

“Yes,” you said. “I mean, no. I mean, yes, I’d like to stay. No, I don’t turn into a meiloorun.”

You bit your lip and stared down at the bundle of weeds in your basket, poking at it ineffectually as you muttered something unintelligible under your breath. Stifling a laugh, Crosshair climbed up onto the crumbling half-wall of a destroyed structure and extended his hand to help you up after him. You scrambled up and sat down next to him, gazing out at the tranquil ocean as the sun began to paint the high clouds in brilliant shades of gold and pastel.

“Not a bad view, is it?” you asked quietly. 

“Definitely worth waking up early,” he replied, watching your face as the light caught on your cheekbones and reflected in your eyes.

Without making a conscious decision, he lifted his hand and brushed a little loose dirt off your cheek. His damned hand trembled, and he mentally cursed. You didn’t seem to notice the slight tremor, though—or if you did, you didn’t say anything about it. Instead, you turned your head slowly, grazing your lips across his fingertips as you met his eyes. It seemed the most natural thing in the galaxy to continue to trace the line of your jaw until his hand curled around the back of your head.

Your lips were soft and warm in the cool breeze, and you tasted like sea salt and dew and something he didn’t quite recognize. Something new. He liked it. You leaned into his kiss, and when at last it came to its natural conclusion, he drew in a shaky breath.

“Hi,” he whispered. “I’m Crosshair.”

---

Want more Crosshair? I have another Crosshair x Reader ficlet here!

Taglist:

@secondaryrealm @sev-on-kamino spicy-clones @523rdrebel @wings-and-beskar @merkitty49 @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @arcsimper5 @starrylothcat @clio3kantarella @cloneloverrrrr @goblininawig @ladytano420 @arctrooper69 @sunshinesdaydream @littlemissmanga @stunkbiggu @starqueensthings @marierg @idontgetanysleep @moonlightwarriorqueen @dudewhynotthis @sleepycreativewriter @tcwmatchmakingau @littlemissbshine @multi-fan-dom-madness @heavenseed76 @wizardofrozz @bobaprint @sweetcream-coldfoam @banksys-rat @skellymom @pickleprickle @trixie2023 @mythical-illustrator @dickarchivist @cw80831 @kimiheartblade @meredithroseg @flyiingsly @lightwise @swcowgal @reader6898 @cdblake1565 @epicy0n @starstofillmydream @msmeredithrose @totallyunidentified @eclec-tech @euphoriacafe @hipwell

[detentedead]

“I needed you here.”

Summary: You find Daryl alone in an abandoned house while on the run looking for medical supplies, you know something is up and you find your way to cheer him up. Suddenly things get more intimate than you think that evening.

(Angst+Fluff💘🧸)

Shy/Inexperienced Daryl x F!Reader)

Warning: SPOILERS(S5)! Mentions of Daryl’s!SH, Death/Grief, Language, Cheesy joke at the very end, and Thats pretty much it. Nothing too crazy. It mostly gets sweet at the end, don’t worry!

(This is my first public fic so I hope you like it if you come across this! By the way, some things in here are canon, some are not, but hopefully that still makes this enjoyable to read!)

You knew it was getting dark soon, but you also knew you couldn’t come empty handed to the group, when you were out for such a long time. Usually you were pretty quick to come back, which probably made the group worry even more, but you had something on your mind that kept you from returning.

Well, someone.

Daryl was gone for a few days after an argument that he had with one of the other guys. You didn’t really know what happened, but you knew something pissed him off. And you were worried about him, although you knew Daryl was very strong and pretty great at being independent especially with surviving, you worried more about how he coped with his emotions, something he wasn’t the best at.

When Daryl is upset sometimes he’d burn himself with cigarettes, that’s something you brought up to him awhile back, after Beth’s death. You knew Beth was like a sister to him, and they both got so close whilst alone together until she was snatched away from him right then and there when Dawn killed her.

You felt terrible after what happened. You knew Daryl was still struggling, even more so that the group has lost countless of people that he and you cared for and loved very much. You were pretty strong at coping with your feelings, and when the time came you showed them. That’s something Daryl couldn’t relate to you with, he always kept it inside. He felt weak every time he cried, or showed any kind of signs of sadness. He hated being “vulnerable” like that.

But something about you, always broke that shell for him. He trusted you very much, and that’s something Daryl has a hard time doing. After all the people that betrayed him, lied to him, hurt him, he’s like a stray dog. Angry on the outside, but filled with fear on the inside…

While it was still gloaming, you sighed to yourself hoping you found Daryl and some medical supplies soon. Honestly, he’s on your mind so much that you almost keep forgetting to look for any of that. You were just worried sick. Was he hurting himself again? That’s something that made your heart ache in pain, the intrusive thought of him doing that made you wanna cry already.

You knew he couldn’t help it, especially if he was alone. That’s always why you tried to stay with him, to distract him.

Suddenly you found an abandoned house, with the gate closed. You thought it could be a sign that someone was inside.

“Oh Christ, please be here please be here…” You whispered to yourself. Hoping it was Daryl…

You saw a slight shadow through the broken window with stained curtains, you really hoped it was him, and not just some stupid walker.

Daryl noticed a noise, but he didn’t think much of it, sitting down on a chair next to the broken window with tears running down his face, and a cigarette in his mouth. He took a long drag of the cigarette, and as he was about to burn himself, you caught him in the act.

You loudly whispered at him, which somewhat came out as a gasp.

“Daryl! Don’t…”

He looked at you, trying to keep a straight face, but then his lips started to quiver, eyes starting to water. He slowly got up from the chair, dropping the cigarette in front of him, killing it by stepping on it whilst walking towards you, he looked at you, with the saddest look you’ve ever seen him give you, and rested his head on your shoulder, crying into you.

“Oh, Daryl. It’s okay; it’s okay. I’m here.”

That only made him cry even more. The few days that he was gone, that’s all he ever wanted to hear again.

“Shh, Daryl… it’s alright, it’s alright.” You cooed.

He was sobbing on your shoulder, motioning his arms to hug you tightly, and hands shaking slightly.

“I…” it sounded like he wanted to say something, but he interrupted with a scratchy grunt.

“Yes, Daryl? It’s okay… You can tell me.”

“I… I needed you. I needed you here, wit’me.” He weeped.

“Oh, love… It’s alright. I’m here now.” You gave him a kiss on the head, caressing his back with pet like strokes, and slight scratches with your fingertips.

As you pulled away from the hug, you held both of his hands, leading him to find a comfortable spot for you two to rest on while looking behind you to ensure you don’t trip on anything.

“M’sorry I… Y’didn’t have to look for me I could take care of m’self…”

“Sweetie no, no… don’t be sorry.”

You rested yourself on a couch, while Daryl was still standing up in front of you, and holding your hands tightly.

You let go of his grip on your left hand, then patting the cushion for him to sit down.

He weakly crawled over to the couch, resting his head on your thigh.

You tucked his hair behind his ear, seeing the sadness right through his blue eyes.

“Oh Daryl what did that guy say to you?”

…

“Fuck him.”

“Daryl, don’t act tough on me now, please, tell me what happened.”

As you repeatedly pet Daryls hair, it got quiet for a minute, which you didn’t mind. You understood that Daryl needed a little time to tell you that something upset him. Then, he broke the silence.

“I… Bastard said everyone I loved that got ripped away from me was my fault.”

Your eyebrows furrowed after hearing this.

“Daryl, you know that’s not true.”

“It’s my fault, it’s all m’fault..” he weeped.

“Daryl, no. Listen-”

“What if I lose you!? Hell, you could’ve died out there while looking fr’me…” he interrupted, while his eyes gazed at you, and turned his body over to have his back against the couch. With a hurt look on his face, you put one of your hands on his chest, rubbing it in circular motions, then he released a husky sigh, and closed his eyes.

“Look at me.” You whispered to him. His eyes lazily opened.

“You’re perfect. There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re not weak for behaving like this, in fact, you’re the strongest man that I know, Daryl Dixon.”

With a miserable smile on his face, he rested his hand on yours, keeping you from moving it anymore. He then grabbed it, giving it a shaky kiss.

He then nervously moved up from your thigh, and scooted to the edge of the couch, whiping his eyes from his tears. “M’sorry I, don’t know wha’got to me.”

“Baby it’s okay don’t ever apologize to me… I’m here. What that guy said, he’s gotta be at the lowest of the low to speak that way to you, or anyone. We’ve all lost people… I know he’d cry if anyone told him something like that too.”

He looked at you with a look of love and hurt at the same time, he loved that you were with him, but he felt like such a burden and a weak idiot for crying right in front of you.

“Come on Daryl, let me make you feel better, is it okay if I sit in your lap?” Since Daryl is inexperienced you usually ask him if he’s okay with certain things, although you two have been together for awhile, he’s still learning, and he’s still attempting to trust you with that kind of intimacy.

He looked at you with confusion, but then nervously nodded to your request.

You straddled him, then held his face with your palms.

You both leaned in to kiss each other. It was a long, passionate, innocent and wholesome kiss. Even comforting for the both of you. Daryl used to get really nervous and stiff when you guys first started kissing, but, he’s gotten used to it.

As you both released, your foreheads leaned against each other softly.

“I love you, Daryl”

“I love you… sweetheart.” He nervously replied.

You then backed your forehead away from his, brushing your thumb against his cheeks to whipe away his dried up tears.

“You’re so perfect Daryl, I need you to know that. I wish you saw yourself the way I saw you.”

Since Daryl was never used to such words, his only reaction was a smile, and dilated pupils, that you always knew were filled with love for you.

He leaned in to kiss you again, then making his way to give pecks along your jawline, then nuzzling his head into your neck.

“Oh, You’re adorable.” You told him.

“Hey…” he chuckled with embarrassment. His breath sending chills down your spine.

“What? You’re so big and tough that you can’t be cute?” While you had your grip onto him, you gave him a teasy squeeze.

“Oh, please.” He rolled his eyes kiddingly.

“Awww c’mon, you know you love hearing it!”

“…Maybe I do, maybe I don’t.”

“And what if I stopped?”

“…” it got quiet.

“Well, you; shouldn’t.” He said nervously.

“Awww so you do love it!”

“Stop it…” he chuckled embarrassingly.

You gently pushed him back against the couch, hands on his chest, and started kissing him passionately.

“M-mph!” He chortled inside the kiss, putting a grip at your hips.

He never ever wanted to admit that he craved this from you. He thought he was being weird and creepy for thinking that way. This man doesn’t really understand how romantic feelings work.

You then let go of the long, affectionate kiss.

“Could’a killed me.” He looked at you with a soft smile. “Would be the best way to go, though…”

You giggled in response, tucking his hair behind his ear, just admiring every part of his face.

You loved this man to death, every single thing about him. His nose, his lips, his hair, his neck, everything. From inside and out. You always knew there was one way to let him know you loved every inch of him.

“Wanna know what I love about you?”

“Hmph?”

“Your facial structure…” you started giving pecks from his forehead, to his cheeks, to his nose, to his lips, to his chin, to his jawline.

“Nghmph..” He gave away a slight chuckle and smile.

“Your neck, your shoulders…” you kissed his neck from left to right, while caressing his shoulders with back and forth stroking motions.

“Your arms…” Your hands traveled down to squeeze his muscles teasingly.

Daryl was getting nervous. “‘lright, ‘lright, quit it.” A big grin on his face was revealed to you, while his cheeks flushed red.

“That reaction tells me otherwise, Daryl.”

“I… Why d’ya say m’name so much?”

“Oh, you reminded me… what I love about you.” You slowly leaned into his ear. Daryl got stiff, he just let his eyes glue onto you.

You whispered, “your name… it just suits you. I love saying it.” Chills ran down his spine, and he started feeling fuzzy inside. Something he was never able to explain. You had innocent intent behind that statement, and what you also loved about Daryl, he never made every single thing sexual like all the other guys you were with before him. Unless, you made it obvious that was your intention. There was a time for sweetness and a time for that. Even then, sometimes it took him a minute to even realize what you said. As you already know, he’s pretty inexperienced with that.

You continued on with your praise. Both of your hands slid their way down to his, giving him chills that caused him to let out a small giggle and husky moan.

“Your hands. I love holding them, or being held with them.”

You grabbed his hands and put them up against your face. “Like this…”

“Alright, I get it. Y’love me.” He said embarrassingly.

“At least you know, baby.” You replied.

He then looked at you, from your eyes, to your lips, and back to your eyes again. Wanting to pull you in for a kiss again but he was too nervous to.

“Daryl?”

His eyes gazed to the side, then closed for a second.

“Fuck it.” He looked right back at you, adoring your face for a couple of seconds, then he nervously pulled you into a kiss, forcefully, which was unintentional. It was made with such hungry like energy, like Daryl has been wanting to do this for years.

You never expected anything like that from Daryl, because he usually gets too nervous to even touch you sometimes, but you weren’t complaining, it was nice.

“I, m’sorry…” He shook his head and looked at you.

“Don’t say sorry.” You whispered, and leaned back in to kiss him again. Slightly grinding onto his lap, which made him grunt against your lips.

And then, yet again there was a long, passionate, kiss. You both just couldn’t stop… You were addicted to each other.

As you both let go of the kiss, Daryl nervously whispered…

“I love you. Very much. I know s’hard fr’me to show it but, I’d die fr’ya. You make me feel things I’ve never felt before and m’sorry if I don’t satisfy you ‘nough in some ways but, please know… I love ya.” He informed you, he said that whole sentence while looking at you eye to eye, without stuttering or pausing at all, that’s how you knew he was being very serious.

Your heart felt like it was gonna explode with joy.

You smiled so much that your eyes started to water with excitement in response to what Daryl said.

“Daryl, I love you so fucking much. You don’t need to be sorry, I can tell you love me just by how you act, your body language, how you look at me, everything. You don’t need to be experienced to love me, baby.”

He smiled with you, pulling you in for a hug.

“Don’t even think about letting go this time.” He said kiddingly.

You giggled, holding onto him tightly. “Starting to like these hugs, huh?”

“Quiet before I change m’mind.” He said kiddingly.

“Oh, you love it.” You two sat there holding each other, and just smiling peacefully. This was really nice for the both of you.

Then you realized.

“Shit…”

“Hm?” Daryl questioned, he thought he did something wrong, but you actually just completely forgot…

“I was supposed to bring back med supplies to the group, but I forgot.” You laughed nervously.

“Anyone hurt? If so we should probably hurry.” Although Daryl loved this, he always wanted to make sure to help others, especially his group. Everyone was like family for him, and you felt the same way.

“No, just running low.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. Got some in the cabinet, we’ll stay here for ‘while and head back later, as long as nobody’s hurt, but… js.”

“Mm?”

“Js stay with me.”

You nodded into his shoulder.

“Anything for you Dixon.”

He laughed with relief, holding you tighter. As the minutes pass, it was finally time to head back. You didn’t want the group to worry.

You two got up, and you walked over to the cabinet that Daryl said had medical supplies in it. You grabbed it all, and stuffed it into your backpack.

“Got wh’we needed?” Daryl crossed his arms, flicking his head at you waiting for a response.

With the sound of the zipper closing your backpack up, you put both the straps on your shoulders with a little hop. “Yep! Let’s head out.”

“‘Lright.” You and Daryl left the abandoned house on your way back to the groups campsite, until you saw Rick from afar.

Rick shouted kiddingly, “Well I’ll be damned!”

As Rick came up to you two, he shook his head at you.

“Looking for your boyfriend mm?” He punched you in the shoulder gently. “Did ya even get the supplies?”

“Yes Ricky Dicky, don’t arrest me now.”

Daryl started laughing at your joke, and you turned to him with a big smile and giggle.

Rick gave out a little laugh too, but then as soon as the jokes were over, all the three of you head out back to the camp.

“So what were you two doing in there?” Rick asked.

You and Daryl looked at each other for a second, then back at Rick.

“Were you..?” He questioned.

“Ah jeez, gross Rick!” Daryl responded.

You and Rick laughed at Daryl teasingly.

“Well Rick if you must know, it was just us being sweet and lovey. Nothing too crazy!” You laughed, informing him.

“Alright don’t tell me, I might puke.” Rick said kiddingly.

“I hear that.” Daryl responded kiddingly as well, and you punched him in the arm, “Hey what’s that supposed to mean?!”

“Ah c’mon, y’know I love ya. Just playin’.” Daryl reassured.

“Whatever you say.”

“Aw c’mon, here. Uhhh. Can I?”

Rick rolled his eyes and continued walking, ignoring the both of you.

“Can you???” You look at Daryl, and notice he’s staring at your hand.

“Yeah, that, can I uhh, hold it?”

You smile at him. “Yes, you may.”

He smiles back and you, gently grabbing your hand and held it sweetly. You two walk along behind Rick the whole time, back to the rest of the group. You were so happy that Daryl was happy, even for a bit. As long as you distracted him from those terrible thoughts.

[catcas22]

Over the course of writing Prince of Death, Melina has become inextricably linked with the song “Hell’s Coming With Me” in my head.

Therefore, Western AU Melina. It was inevitable.