#fic; the gloaming

[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.

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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)

[sunnie-angel]

Fic Masterlist

Jason Todd

A Spoonful of Honey🌧️

A Pocketful of Sunshine🍬

Always and Forever☀️🌧️

Red Herrings🍬

Words Left Unsaid 🌧️🖤

Candy Necklaces 🍬☀️

Strawberry Pie🍬

Singing in the Rain☀️

Movie Magic🍬

In the Shade of the Sun 🌧️

Come Home Soon🍬

Sweetheart☀️

The Gloaming🍬

A Soft Touch series 🌧️🍬

Holiday Scenes🍬

The Ghost of You🌧️

You Don’t Call Me Baby (Unless I Beg You To) 🌧️☀️

Nothing Fucks With My Baby (pt1 | pt2)🌧️🖤

Kinktober 2024

A Fever You Can't Sweat Out☀️🍬

Every Version of the Story

Conrad Oxford

A Gentleman ☀️

A Watch, A Pearl🌧️

Key:

☀️=smut, 🍬=fluff, 🌧️=angst, 🖤=darker themes

[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

[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.

[dhampling]

˗ˏˋ i'm dal - she/‎‎‎her. 24. ˎˊ˗ astarion x reader content • 18+ only, minors dni! ‎‏‏‎ ꙳⊹ ﾟ⋆ • about me • ko-fi • ao3 • my caps • © BLOODSOEUR. do not copy, repost, modify, or translate my works.

butter gn!reader, 2.5k you and the vampire spend a short gloaming sun discussing marriage

both free gn!reader, 2.1k you reject bhaal’s greatest gift - to this, your horrified love bears witness

one mine, both yours bard gn!reader, 1.6k astarion’s habit of visiting your tent leads him to your hidden pile of sonnets

the shepherd, the black sheep gn!reader, 2k a plummet into a chasm leaves you and your light-fingered friend stuck. together, you wonder if you’ll ever emerge again.

sylvan gn!reader, 2.8k a chance series of encounters in youth come together on one night, where everything just clicks for Astarion and his unicorn.

the sunwalker's gift gn!reader, 3.3k you find a ring - after a lot of searching - that allows astarion to walk in the sun, and propose with it.

gush fem!reader, 2.2k (NSFW) it rains. you swindle some wine and astarion cums in his breeches.

oh, mother fem!reader, 3.3k (NSFW) it’s the mummy fic.

lifeblood fem!reader, 2.5k (NSFW) astarion discovers an aphrodisiac during a trip to the night market, and only one thing is on his mind.

ivory tower fem!reader x ascended!astarion, 4.6k (NSFW) you're still mortal, and there's good reason for it.

warming fem!reader 1.2k (NSFW) early morning feeding and cockwarming because i said so.

swell fem!reader 1.9k (NSFW) feral pregnant sex with the elf. inspired by this NSFW piece by the ridiculously talented @mutualcombat.

leeches girl!dadstarion, <1k astarion and his daughter have a spat.

little love girl!dadstarion, <1k dadstarion watches dhampling sleep.

bramble jam girl!dadstarion, <1k “In what realm would we need this much jam?”

the gate girl!dadstarion, 1.5k astarion is a school-gate dilf on his first pick-up adventure with you.

sunburn girl!dadstarion, <1k dhampling gets sunburnt!

introducing the siblings girl!dadstarion (inbox prompt) "I had this image in my mind of him introducing the older girls to their new baby sister each time and just being sweet and cute"

breakfast girl!dadstarion (inbox prompt) astarion trying to make breakfast for the growing brood while tav/reader is like, "my love, you wanted this"

bump dadstarion x reader (inbox prompt) astarion being a lil shit and causing more kicks talking to and touching tav's baby bump as tav tries to rest?

stretch marks dadstarion x reader (inbox prompt) Imagine a tav who’s really insecure about these marks [...] and when they bring it up to astarion he decides the best course of action is to show them how much he loves them.

snuggles dadstarion x reader (inbox prompt) when tav is pregnant astarion would love snuggling up to their baby bump - curling around them and listening for signs of their little one

shallow bites girl!dadstarion (inbox prompt) "I think it would be really funny if astarion and tav’s daughter was practicing her bites and pickpocketing on the two of them, respectively. [...] No ancunín is going to grow up being a half-rate pickpocket!"

hugs from behind dadstarion x reader (inbox prompt) "hugging the other from behind" from this list of prompts with astarion hugging his very tall, very pregnant wife from behind because I think the image of it is so cute.

tiefling tav showing affection via their tail tief!reader (inbox prompt)

valentine's day with astarion gn!reader (inbox prompt)

earthbound astarion x earth!born reader (inbox prompt) "how do you think astarion would handle a tav who is actually from earth and is going to return home after defeating the netherbrain?"

reunited astarion x earth!born reader (inbox prompt) "a follow-up to earth tav somehow reuniting with astarion, via reincarnation or another divine intervention"

patience gn!reader (inbox prompt) "hmm, you're not very patient, are you?" from the one-liners list"

baking gn!reader (inbox prompt) "ASTARION GETTING INTO BAKING AND ASKING YOU TO SAMPLE ALL OF HIS BAKES"

thulsun fem!reader, not tav! 3.7k (NSFW) under rework! astarion appears at your parlour one evening in a cloud of smoked bergamot and the briefest hint of spunk, and it becomes oh-so difficult to watch him leave.

three, minimum fem!reader, 4.3k (NSFW) astarion has been planning, for the first time in his life. He wants babies.

nought point five fem!reader, 4.7k (NSFW) seven months along, he’s besotted with every pregnant piece of you.

one fem!reader, 2k astarion is a newly-minted girldad. that’s it. that’s the plot.

one more fem!reader, 2.9k (NSFW) your home is quaint. astarion continues to insist it isn’t busy enough.

(astarion x fem!reader au, NSFW) he's a potwasher. you want to fuck the potwasher. this started as a joke and now i'm obsessed. enjoy.

one two

[loversofthegrave]

My favourite wincest fics recs

(because it's a duty and a service)

Other Brothers by homo_pink

summary: A callow boy can go from infancy to someone’s lover in the space of two wildflower summers.

reader note: top three favourite fic of all time, thinking of that post 'I'm never not thinking about other brothers by homo_pink' me too. Outisde POV, pre-series sam/dean

Flowers in the Impala by Evandar

summary: Kate wants them to be a family - really, she does - but there's something wrong with John's boys.

reader note: oh it's a delicious outside POV of how fucking weird our boys are. Pre-series sam/dean

Squint into the Sunset | Glare into the Gloaming by Dyed_Red

summary: The 70k-word nonlinear coming of age story that literally no one asked for.

"I know you want to give him the world, Dean, but you were never supposed to give him this."

reader note: I feel like this is an underrated fic, I really enjoyed it and I'd put it up there with the invisible boy series!

Howls in my bones by weefaol

summary: When John gets a call to investigate a series of grisly animal killings, he drops Sam and Dean at an abandoned cabin two towns over. The boys find ways to keep busy — playing cards, watching movies, chopping wood — but with a howling winter storm on the way, there’s nowhere for Sam to hide his illicit feelings for his older brother.

As the lure of desire threatens to devour him, Sam must learn to face the wolves that lurk outside and the monsters within.

reader note: so beautiful, one of my favourites. pre-series sam/dean

Letters from a Half-Finished Boy by homo_pink

summary: Dean discovers a secret journal Sammy's been writing in.

reader note: homo_pink again, I love all their spn fics. Oh angst teenage sammy I love you

Hot singles in your area by applecrumbledore

summary: In the video, the camera crawled up the kid’s body like a pair of lascivious eyes. The pan upwards revealed a sweet, pointed nose, and a mole to the left side of that nose.

Dean froze, watching. The kid’s eyes opened when the camera was still on his face, pupils darting nervously away, and those eyes were hazel green. A specific kind of hazel green that Dean had spent exactly thirty-six years looking at.

readers note: obsessed with the way Dean hunts down the guy Sam did porn with 21 years ago or so it's so canonically dean like that's exactly what he would do