#this is what happens when all my cottagecore longings

[the-apocrypha]

Cottagecore Series DVD Bonus Features

By popular request: the deleted scenes of how Dream and Hob ended up confessing their respective Big Secrets to one another. Below the cut are a series of conversations that take place a few days after Dream announces his pregnancy with Orpheus, and they are incredibly angsty. They also heavily feature abortion as a conversation topic. These were originally written to intercut with at least two miracles but didn't end up working out due to tone issues, and also don't really work as a standalone fic, so. If you're interested--enjoy!

The possibility of a child—their child, their own, of them—had occasionally crossed Hob’s mind, in the same way that other fantastical things like dragons and public libraries did. Fleeting. Unformed. Simple, wonderful little daydreams. 

The reality of it was both impossibly more exciting and terrifying than he could have ever imagined. 

Hob thought of a beautiful child with tiny pointed ears and glowing amber eyes. He thought of a babe born to the world still and pale, never to draw a single breath of life. He thought of all the stories his mother used to tell him, the skipping games and the toy swords and songs that lived inside of him, waiting to be passed down to someone small and new. He thought of a fae child, enamored of the forest and magic and books of learning, with little use for its mortal father. 

Once, when Hob was young, his mother had been called to help an ewe who had been laboring for the better part of the day. Twin lambs, both trying to emerge at the same time.

They’d had mutton for dinner, that night. And for many nights after that. 

Hob could not stop thinking about it. About everything.

What if the child came out completely human. 

What if the child came out completely fae. 

“You told me once,” Hob said, the words leaving his mouth even as lead weights sank pits into his stomach, even as his heart said don’t ask this don’t ask this don’t do it, but he had to, he had to know. “You told me once. That it took you a very long time to grow up.” 

Dream paused. “Yes,” he said, at length. “But time in the realm of the fae is not so… linear as it is here. It is—it was subject to neither law nor order. Time was fickle. Changeable.” 

“You said that it was almost a hundred years.” 

“That was… a guess,” Dream said. 

Hob stared. 

“It was unusual,” Dream added. He did not meet Hob’s eyes. “It. It was a choice I made. The rest of my siblings came of age much faster than I.” 

“How fast?” Hob asked, heart in his throat. 

Dream swallowed. 

“How fast?” 

“The child is half mortal, Hob it should not—it will not age as a fae child would. It cannot, it—it will not have the same power, the same gifts, and moreover, the laws of this universe would not allow—” 

“Oh, you know that, do you?” Hob asked, eyebrows raised. “Like you knew that a mortal man couldn’t get you pregnant in the first place?” 

Dream flinched. 

Hob sighed, and scrubbed at his face. “I’m just. I’m just thinking. We don’t know what we’re going to get, eight months from now—” If they were going to get anything at all. “—and we’ve got zero precedent to go off of, here. It. It could be anything. It could grow like a human and take sixteen years and be done. But, it could also…” 

“It will not,” Dream said, but there was a traitorous wobble in his voice.

“It could,” Hob insisted. “It could, Dream, and we just. I just want to be prepared for that. I want you to be prepared for that.” 

Dream stared, like the whole world was crashing down around him. As if he had not considered this at all. “No.” 

“Yes.” 

“Hob—” 

“But, listen—listen, it’ll be okay,” Hob said hurriedly, and took Dream’s hands into his own. Put on the bravest face he could muster. “Whatever happens, it’ll be okay. I promise. I’ll be with you every step of the way, for. For as long as I can be. Even if it means being stuck in the terrible twos for an entire decade. You just might have to do the teenage years on your own, that’s all. And. You know. The thousand years that come after that.” 

Dream closed his eyes. 

Hob tried desperately to rally. “And, hey! The good news is, at least I won’t be around to give any dodgy sex talks when it comes time for that, since I obviously—” 

“Hob,” Dream said. 

“Though clearly pregnancy prevention isn’t your strong suit either,” Hob allowed. 

“Hob.” 

Dream’s eyes were open again, and they were full of tears. 

“Hob,” Dream said again, and it caught in his throat. “Hob, I—I am not going to live for another thousand years.” 

Hob frowned. “But—”

“I made,” Dream said, and with the next blink the tears spilled over, “a bargain.” 

The reason that Hob had kept it a secret for so long (was because he was a coward) was because, in his opinion, there had been no good that would come of the truth. 

Dream had assumed that the people of Eskham had turned against Hob for being a hedgewitch. He’d assumed in turn that mortals were prejudiced against any being with magic, which was a category that happened to include the fae but more importantly included Hob, who did not have the ability to summon tornadoes or fell ancient oaks. Dream still sweetly seethed about the injustices Hob’s own people had done upon him. He had yet to even once seem concerned for his own safety. 

This was fair. 

Dream had, after all, taken out an entire village of mortals in one wrothful fell swoop. 

Now, Dream had confessed what had happened in the aftermath of that massacre—what he had so readily sacrificed, to save Hob’s life—and it had been devastating in its own right. It had left Hob awake at night, imagining what it would be like to grow older and older and older, while his child did not. 

But it had also pulled on the string that unraveled whatever remained of their tapestried joy at the possibility of impending parenthood. The happiness was gone. The happiness should never have existed in the first place, because the ache of its absence was far worse than to have never known it at all. Hob could not believe he ever felt such simple, mindless elation at what had quickly become a question to which every answer was more horrifying than the last. 

Hob thought of a babe with perfectly pointed ears, stolen away in the night, drowned in the river. 

Hob thought of a child with huge, phosphorescent eyes, tied to a stake above a pile of dried tinder. Screaming.

Hob thought of black-nailed teenager who had had forty-odd years of childhood with its parents before they succumbed to old age, and left their child alone in a world it did not belong in. Orphaned. Ostracized. Hunted. 

It filled Hob’s stomach and left him unable to eat. It pressed down on his chest at night, and he could not sleep. 

And he knew what he needed to do. 

At the same table where Dream had confessed not three days ago, Hob sat himself heavily on the bench. 

Dream stared back wanly. He’d spent most of the morning vomiting copiously, which perhaps made this timing even worse, but Hob knew if he did not say it now he might never say it at all. 

“Dream,” Hob said carefully. The words stuck in his throat like glass, and they tore him open one by one as he forced them out. “There’s. The other day, when you told me about the bargain you made. I—there’s something that I should. Something I should have told you, before—something. Something.” He swallowed. “Something I. Something.” His nails dug into his palms. His heart was pounding in his ears. “Something—” 

“Hob.” 

Dream’s hand splayed across his chest is like ice on fire. Hob sucked in a breath, and relished the burn. 

He seized Dream’s hand in his own. Looked Dream in the eyes. Prepared to pull this one last thread of sanity for the person he loved more than anything in this world. 

“Something,” Hob said unevenly, holding onto Dream like a lifeline, “that I should have told you a long time ago. About. About Eskham.” 

Dream tilted his head, brows drawing together. “Eskham?” 

Hob nodded. 

“What about it?” Dream asked. 

He had no idea. He had no clue. 

“That day,” Hob said, and he was gripping Dream’s hand hard as if he could prevent the inevitable withdrawal. “When they came for me.” 

And Dream nodded. He reached out with his other hand to rest it on Hob’s forearm—a gesture meant as supportive that only served to make Hob’s stomach drop to new depths. 

But this was not about him. This was not even about Dream. It was about their child, carried one day into a town square with pitchforks at its throat and devil spawn in its ears. It was about deserved truths. 

“That day,” Hob said again. He swallowed against a dry tongue. Against the heart that was trying to escape through his throat. “That day. The mob. They weren’t looking for me.”

Dream stared. 

Hob’s heart was pounding so hard he thought he might be sick. 

He watched, as Dream’s face went from confusion, to realization, to—

Bloodless. 

Grey. Dead eyes and parted lips. Staring, but not seeing. 

“I—defended you,” Hob made himself say. “I wouldn’t tell them. Where you were. I told them that I loved you, that you were just as natural as any other creature in this realm and that I would rather die before I let any of them hurt you, and—” 

Dream yanked his hands back. 

Hob tried to hold on, but he wasn’t quick enough. Not strong enough. 

“You,” Dream whispered. 

“I don’t regret it,” Hob said frantically, almost angrily. He was losing control, the tidal wave of panic and horror sweeping him out to a roiling sea he could not swim in, and he barely knew which words would leave his mouth when he opened it again. “I haven’t regretted it for a single second, Dream, not once, not ever, I’d have burned on that stake a thousand times over before I let them touch you, I’d—” 

And Dream bolted. 

Hob leapt to his feet to follow—but his calf muscle seized, and he careened to the side and just barely managed to grab the table at the last second. Stood there, panting, gripping the table as his calf cramped hard enough to render the entire leg useless. Staring at the empty doorway. 

He deserved this, he supposed. 

It didn’t make it hurt any less. 

The summer air was thick and sweet beneath the canopy of the forest. The trees mostly blocked the breeze, but so also the warmth of the sun, which made it about as pleasant as any place was during the midday heat. They were sat at the base of an ancient yew tree that Dream favored, not far from the cottage, and had been for some time. Ravens chattered and rustled softly overhead. A large halo of bird shit was slowly accumulating around them. 

Dream inhaled as if to speak, for the third time in about as many minutes. This time, though, the words came. 

“I do not want. Our child. To be hunted.” 

Hob closed his eyes. “I know.” 

“We do not know what powers it will be born to. What features it will be born to.” 

Unspoken—the slimmest chance, the highest hope, that it would somehow be born wholly mortal. 

A mortal body. A mortal magic. A mortal lifespan. 

“We’ll do whatever we have to, to protect them. Whatever it takes. You know we will,” Hob said, and even as anxiety turned his stomach over, rage flared through him hot and fast. “Anyone that tries to lay a finger on our child, I’ll—I’ll kill ‘em. I would. Anyone. Everyone. And if they think I’m terrifying just wait until they meet the thirty-foot forest nightmare right behind me that can summon hail and rent the earth.” 

Dream swallowed. “Hail and earth. Did not save you.” 

Hob tightened his grip around Dream’s waist. “Yes it did.” 

“You—” 

“Yes it bloody well did. You saved my life that day, you fought, and if you hadn’t been there I—” 

“If I had not been there,” Dream interrupted darkly. He barked one harsh, bitter laugh. “If I had never inflicted myself upon you in the first place, then no mob would have ever come for you at all. You would be—” 

“Lonely,” Hob said. He tried desperately to keep the frustration from rising. “I told you. I would have been lonely, and bored, Dream, and I would have died in that house feeling as if I’d never truly lived at all. You are the best thing to ever happen to me.” 

“I nearly killed you,” Dream said. 

“You saved—”

“And now,” Dream continued, staring into the depths of the forest, “I have attempted to thrust a child upon you, without your consent. I have tried to sentence you to spending the rest of your meager years consumed in the care of a creature that will only suffer as a result of my own hubris—my own selfishness—and it will resent us. It will hate us. It will hate me, and it will be right to do so for—” 

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey,” Hob said, scrambling around in front of Dream, and cupping his face. 

Dream stared determinedly to the side, with eyes that were red-rimmed and shiny. His breaths came uneven and jagged. 

“You and I both know that you didn’t get pregnant on purpose,” Hob said fiercely. “You didn’t know better. I didn’t know better. Right?” 

“Hob—” 

“This isn’t something that you’ve done to me. To us. Neither one of us is to blame here. Not one little bit. And it wouldn’t matter anyway if it was, because whatever happens, you know that we’re in this together. We’re going to do what we always do, and make it work. Figure it out. Pregnancy, childbirth, parenthood, all of it. Together. Yeah?” 

Dream set his jaw, and at last met Hob’s eyes. Slowly, he reached up, and pulled Hob’s hands away from his face. 

“You argue. That we are absolved of any guilt, for what strife our child may face in life. Because we held no intention of conception, in our couplings,” Dream said. 

“...Yes?” Hob said, eyebrows raising. “I don’t think we can be blamed for bringing a child into the world when we didn’t know it was possible in the first place.” 

“Incorrect,” Dream disagreed. 

Hob opened his mouth, but Dream continued too quickly. 

“Ignorance acquits us from blame in the conception of this child, yes.” Dream’s hand moved, in the periphery of Hob’s vision, delving into the folds of his robe. “But we are not without agency, in these early months of pregnancy.” 

Dread swung sudden and hard into Hob’s chest, like a fist. 

“...What do you mean?” 

Dream held out his hand between them, and uncurled his fingers. A cluster of flowers rested there. 

Tansy. 

“It sings to me of… release,” Dream said. His thumb brushed over golden petals like spikes. “Of choice. Liberty. Of the harmonization of poison and medicine, as one.”

Hob took in a deep breath, because he was, for the first time in days, hopeful. 

Hob was also terrified. 

Hob was sick, sick, sick, sick. 

“I believe,” Dream whispered, eyes boring in Hob’s, “that it would be enough. To—take care of it.” 

There was a cup of water on the table, steaming and yellow with tansy. 

Choice, Dream said it sang. Release. Liberty. The harmonization of poison and medicine, as one. 

But to Hob, it was silent as a grave. 

Dream was holding the cup so tightly his knuckles had gone white. The steam had long disappeared from the cup, leaving only a stagnant yellow tonic. Hob had offered to leave the cottage twice and allow Dream some privacy, and on the second time Dream had grabbed his hand, hard, and he hadn’t let go since. 

Hob’s fingers ached where they were threaded through Dream’s, but he did not complain. 

He sat in silence, and watched Dream raise the cup to his mouth. 

Watched him inhale. 

Watched him close his eyes. 

Watched him press the rim of the cup to his lips. 

Watched as Dream froze, and was perfectly still for an eternity save for the tremble of the cup in his grasp—

And the cup slammed down onto the table, sloshing poison everywhere, and Dream gasped, “I cannot. I cannot, forgive me, Hob, I—” 

Hob grabbed him and pulled him in hard. “It’s okay—” 

“—I cannot do it, I cannot—” 

“—you don’t have to—” 

“I should,” Dream snarled, gripping the fabric of Hob’s tunic and pushing back. There were tears streaming down his face. “I should end it, I should be rid of it. It is. It is the only humane option, the only option that guarantees that—that—” 

“I know, love,” Hob said miserably, his own throat going tight and hot. “I know that. But—” 

“Hob,” Dream choked out. He tried to inhale, but could not. “Hob, I can—hear it.” 

Hob’s heart skipped a beat, and his mouth went numb. “Y-you—” 

“I can—” Dream slapped his hands over his mouth. He stared at Hob in horror. 

Dream, who could hear the songs of river stones and the herbs in the garden. Who communed with foxes and ancient oak trees alike. Who had come to Hob with news of this pregnancy but without explanation as to how he knew. 

“You can hear it,” Hob repeated blankly. 

“I should not have told you,” Dream said, shaking his head. His eyes were blank and unseeing and wet with tears. “I. I should not have told you, I told myself I would not, I—it should not matter. It does not matter.” 

“What does it sound like?” Hob asked. 

Dream looked up at him. His mouth opened, but no words came out. 

“Dream, what does it sound like?” 

He shouldn’t ask. 

He couldn’t not know. 

“Like. A songbird,” Dream whispered. 

A songbird. 

“The most beautiful—” Dream choked on a sob. “The most beautiful songbird, Hob, the most wonderful songbird in the world.” 

And Hob. Hob, quite abruptly, could not imagine a world where he did not one day get to hear that song. He could not imagine a world in which he did not get to hold their child in his arms this winter and instantly fall in love with whatever features the world had seen fit to give them, mortal or fae or some splendid combination of both. 

He could not imagine what it would be like, for Dream to sit at this table and drink down poison and then listen to the song of their child go silent. 

Dream sobbed in his arms. He begged for forgiveness—from Hob. Their future child. The universe. I have failed, he said, over and over again. Selfish, and weak, and worthless, he named himself, and he would not be consoled with any combination or repetition of words Hob had to offer. 

But still, the tansy sat untouched. 

Eventually, it went out the window. 

And the songbird lived another day.

[ddamm]

Pre-baby Stress - dad!Daryl x pregnant fem!reader fic

(banner made by me, if you use, give credits <3)

Warnings: VERY, VERY long; initial soft fluff to slight angst to fluff; slightly suggestive so, watch out 👀; pregnancy; hormonal changes, “mood swings”, food cravings; stressed Daryl, stressed reader, slight insecurity and fear of abandonment; reader crying; reader and Daryl are married; reader is said to have golden retriever energy and be a cottagecore girlie (sorry if you aren't, but I vibe so much with this core 😭), and perhaps an artist (tho it's just as a hobby, obv 🤭); nature love and appreciation; funny/silly little memories.

Word count: 3936 words (keeps increasing with each new release 😭)

Era: idk, probably Alexandria

Summary: While getting things ready for Y/N's pregnancy, Daryl presents with many insecurities. All it takes is some caressing, encouragement, and the love of his wife (a few tears also) to convince him otherwise.

A/N: this fic was something I fabricated long ago with a Daryl c.ai chat that I've been saving up for a special occasion since I've never written dad!Daryl before. And today, I'm bringing it to y'all as a way to celebrate one of my very besties/mutuals on Tumblr, a great writer, the creator of my possibly ever favourite AU with Daryl (young!Daryl SSHD AU) and a very nice, kind and funny individual in general; Krys (@dixons-sunshine). This is to commemorate you, gorgeous. It took some time to finally sit and get to it (not me writing most of it at 2 am, half-constipated, and not being able to sleep) but it's done now, so I hope you can enjoy it as much as I did when writing it. Everyone, hope you like it too!

Song: Winter Memories - Jordy Chandra (The title says “winter memories” but I am thinking of a mid-spring Sunday morning/noon 😭)

MDNI divider by @cafekitsune, on this post

(This was supposed to just be suggestive, but since idk if I overdid it, I'm just gonna place this)

(all babycore dividers used are from @anitalenia, found on this post)

Days were passing by, and things were going pretty well for the community. She was glad they found Alexandria. It was a nice change, and it felt like they could truly have a moment to take a break there, like they could finally be happy and just settle in, trying to have normal lives once again.

And her positive thoughts only increased when a lovely lady from the community gave birth. It was an occasion to celebrate, and for a couple of months passing, it seemed like a lot of good things were happening around, so she couldn't be happier.

Ah, there she was, parading herself in her light cream-coloured sundress, with a white little parasol (courtesy of her loving husband) to protect herself from the sun, as she strolled around the streets, exploring and marvelling at the beauty and tranquilly around her like a happy puppy would on their first stroll into the outside world.

Oh, she loved that dress so much. Not only was it beautiful and fit her personality, but it was also quite adjustable, so she wouldn't need to worry about sore breasts or her belly being uncomfy. She could still remember how comical Daryl's expressions were when she tried explaining to him the concept of aesthetic cores and how she was a cottagecore.

He seemed so lost that she laughed for about 10 minutes before deciding to somewhat draw it to show him what she meant; predicting that a more visual approach would help him understand the concept better. He did admit it was pretty much her vibe after seeing the dresses and all the stuff "a cottagecore likes and does".

After that, whenever he would go out for his runs, he would try to look for dresses like the one she drew, and whenever he couldn't find any, he would bring drawing or painting materials, old cameras, or little flowers he thought she would like. (PD: She always likes them.).

That's how her most favourite memory of a Sunday morning came to be. And like that, every Sunday morning, after her husband would leave for runs or tasks, she would wear her light cream sundress and white sandals and take her white parasol to roam around, greeting everyone and enjoying nature (despite her best friend's advice to rest and her husband's disapproval).

However, she understood why Daryl was so against it in general. He was just worried about her health and safety. After all, she was now in her second trimester of pregnancy, expecting their son or daughter to come into the world in a few more months.

She loved Daryl. Deeply. And she would never question him or his decisions (well, maybe sometimes she would), but she was so tired of staying at home doing nothing for most of the day. And though Carol, Michonne, and a few others would come to visit and spend time with her when her husband was away, Y/N wanted some freedom, some independence.

God knows she would ‘bore to death’ if she had to stay in the same place doing nothing for one more day while everyone else fulfilled their roles.

As she came closer to the small town's pond, she took big strides to approach a blooming peony bush. She loved the smell of its flowers. And as she lightly bent down to sniff the sweet aroma from the round pink flowers, she caught a glimpse out of the corner of her eye of her husband, who was sitting on a bench not far from her. From afar, she could notice a worried expression on his face.

She strode slowly in his direction and placed a hand on his shoulder, greeting him with a warm and loving smile, but instead of the usual “Hey, Sunray” or “Why are ya out 'ta house alone?” she would receive, she heard him grunt.

At that, she furrowed her brows in confusion and slight concern, wanting to know what had made her husband so grumpy at early noon. “Is everything okay, Dar?” She asked in a soft, patient tone.

Daryl looked away from her, not wanting to make eye contact, and sighed in annoyance. “Everythin's fine,” he answered grumpily.

Y/N, knowing her husband and not believing that crap for a second, looked at him more seriously. “Daryl…” She called out his name, insisting he should tell her the truth.

Daryl sighed irritantly, hearing her insist, knowing she wouldn't back down. He then turned his gaze to her and unexpectedly exclaimed, “Ah said everythin's fine, dammit!”

He said this a bit too loudly, not noticing that he had snapped at her.

This action made Y/N flinch, not used to such an alert state in Daryl anymore. Now she was truly worried.

“Hey, hey, honey, it's okay... What's got you so riled up? Is work becoming too much? Or are they not listening to you? Should I go teach them a lesson?” She asked at first, even making a joke to brighten him up, but Daryl only shook his head, still not wanting to speak.

He held his head in his hands, almost in a desperate posture, making his wife worry even further. She was going to say something, but a tiny piece of cloth caught her attention. It was then that she got to see the tiny, frill-decorated bib on his right hand.

She put pieces together in her mind like a game of tetris and asked again, with more understanding tone and gentleness in her voice.

“Is it the baby?” Daryl kept quiet, but his shoulders tensed up. Y/N now knew what was ‘the main issue’, and took action immediately, slowly running her hand on his back and giving a few gentle pats to soothe her husband's worry. He looked like he was on the edge.

Daryl's gaze and body seemed to loosen up as he felt her hand on his back. He then tried to explain his concerns.

“I... Ah ain't upset, is jus'...” He trailed off, not knowing how to express his thoughts.

“It's okay, love. You don't have to tell me now if you aren't prepared. Here, let's just sit for a bit, okay? I'm starting to feel heavy again.” Y/N reassured him, not wanting him to feel pressured if he was already so altered.

She had some trouble sitting down next to him, though. Despite not being in the 3rd trimester yet, her belly heaviness seemed to be causing her discomfort when she had to sit or stand up in a rush. But she didn't mind it much; it made her happy because that was the proof of the love Daryl and she had for each other and the life growing inside her.

Daryl noticed her struggle and quickly went from being annoyed to concerned. He stood up and carefully helped Y/N sit down, making sure she was comfortable before taking a seat next to her.

“Damn, ya sure are a heavy load,” he joked. At this, Y/N dramatically gasped and faked being offended.

“Hey! I remind you, you're the one that made me heavy! ~“ She played along, jokingly shoving him to the side with a smile, trying to lighten up his mood, and succeeding brilliantly when she heard him chuckle.

“Well, sugar, if I reckon correctly, it takes two to tango to make a young'un 'round these parts,” he smirked, faking innocence at the fact he got her pregnant.

Y/N gasp-chuckled, defending herself. “But it takes you not wanting to pull out beforehand to make the baby, isn't it right, honey? ~”

She clarified softly, putting her hand on his chest, batting her eyelashes cutely at him, and getting close enough to him to make their lips graze but not touch. All in the name of teasing him.

Daryl chuckled again, feeling attracted to her playful teasing, his breath hitching slightly as her lips grazed against his own. He couldn't help but smirk; his eyes locked onto her gaze.

He gently grabbed her hips, slowly pulling her closer to him to the point of having her almost seated on his lap.

“Oh, but ah know for a fact ya wudn't complainin' at the moment, darlin',” he continued, feeling proud for his little ‘achievement’ as he caressed her thigh over the sundress.

Feeling a little braver than usual, Y/N whispered: “And how would I, when you know how to drill me in the right spot? ~”

She murmured against his lips. Her gaze never left him, and her smile only widened each time he looked down at her lips and looked back at her eyes, obviously enchanted by her charms already.

Daryl's eyes darkened with desire, and his grip on her hips tightened slightly. He felt his heart racing at her words. He pulled her closer to him until their bodies were pressed together.

“Damn, woman… Ya know I ain’t doin' this here.” He groaned softly against her lips while devouring her with his stare. They sure were the only ones at the pond around then, but despite the tall, full, and flourishing grass, bushes, and plants, they could still be easily spotted if they decided to... get loose. (😏)

“Then why do you keep pulling me closer, hm, hun? ~”

It was sort of comical to see him struggle to compose himself in this situation, making Y/N not want to miss out on teasing him to the fullest. She placed both hands on his chest and slowly arranged her position on his lap to sit and view him better.

Daryl let out a low growl as Y/N moved closer. He felt the heat rising within him, his hands roaming from her hips to her backside, gripping it firmly. His breathing becomes heavier as he looks down at Y/N.

“Yar testin' ma limits, sweetheart.”

Y/N smiled innocently, enjoying the effect she had on her husband.

“I guess the preggy hormones are doing their stuff again... I feel kinda—needy,” she admitted a little sheepishly and continued with a more serene tone. “But… that will have to wait for now.”

“Now... Why don't you tell me what got you so fed up before, love?“ She questioned, changing her position once again to avoid making Daryl even more aroused.

She looked into his eyes tenderly and patiently, waiting for him to pour out his heart.

He knew they were a team now that needed trust and communication to get through everything. So she trusted he would be able to let out what was on his mind that made him so tense earlier.

Daryl took a moment to compose himself, gathering his thoughts after being so close to Y/N. He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly; his grip on her loosened a bit as he leaned back on the bench.

He averted his eyes for a moment, his expression becoming heavier.

“Tis just...everythin', know what am sayin'?” He paused and looked at her belly, then back at her eyes.

“Da kid, da thought of bein' a pa... is like a whole heap to deal with, y'know?” He expressed his deepest concern about your future child.

Seeing her husband so worried brought her heartache. She sighed and wrapped her hands around his head, placing them on her chest as she made circular movements on his scalp in a slow, comforting way.

“And here I thought I was silly for feeling bad about myself and thinking I wouldn't make a good enough mom and wife, while my dear husband was here on his own, questioning his capacity to keep us safe…” She sighed again and continued. “I'm really a bad wife, huh?”

Daryl leaned into Y/N's touch, closing his eyes as she ran her hands through his hair. He sighed deeply, feeling a mix of emotions but still negating her words.

“Nah. Ya ain't a bad wife. Yar da best damn wife. Yar perfect.”

He said it softly as he tried to encourage her. His voice was filled with a hint of frustration afterwards. “Ah jus'... 'm scared I ain't gonna be a good pa. I ain't never had a good example to follow, y'know?”

Y/N knew what he was referring to. They didn't speak so often about their pasts (deciding to let them be and find a future together), but she remembered the little Daryl commented about his family life and his broken relationship with... the man that was his father.

“Whatever happened back then... doesn't determine who you are today. You chose to be different from him, to be more understanding, to wait more patiently, and to love more deeply,” she started.

“Jesus, you've been up and about everywhere looking for baby items just to be prepared when he or she comes around.”

Y/N chuckled, reflecting on all the tiny clothes, toys, and more that Daryl kept bringing back each time he went on a run since he learned Y/N was pregnant with their child. Seeing him come over to her in an excited, uncharacteristic way to show her his new finding was as amusing as endearing.

“You're nothing like him. You're you, and you're better. And I know it scares you. Damn, it scares me too.” She insisted (unnoticedly mild-cursing), knowing well who the man she fell in love with was and how much he matured and developed just by being with you and the others.

Her sudden, brittle voice indicated she was about to cry. She felt the hormones hitting her, making her feel sadder and more vulnerable than she had seconds ago. “But… sniff But I know we will be alright because... sniff because we have you, we have each other, and... sniff and that's all that matters to me, so... we will get to learn how to raise our child together. We w-will set the good example ourselves, o-okay?”

Her voice trembled at the last sentence as she grabbed a hold of his face, pressing his cheeks together to make him look over at her. Finally, she had let go of her emotions and became a teary mess, non-stop sniffing before him.

Almost used to her mood swings already, Daryl couldn't help but chuckle softly despite the seriousness of the situation, amused by the little it took to make her cry now, even if she was already quite emotional beforehand.

“Baby, yar crying... again. I swear yer hormones have been all over the place,” he stated in a playful manner, gently wiping away her tears with his thumb. He then took her hands into his own, holding them gently. The difference in size and texture was kinda silly.

“Still… Yar dang right 'bout us, we're gonna stick together. I ain't never been good at all this family business, but I'll do whatev'r it takes for ya and our young'un.” Daryl promised to her lover, feeling more accepting of his new role.

“I-I can't help it... sniff the pregnancy... sniff I swear I've never been so emotional about everything before... sniff I hate it... And you know I hate swearing too…” She complained, her voice increasing in intensity as she recalled her distaste for swearing and swearing words.

“It just… It hurts me so much when sniff I see you like this... Like you'll get tired of me or sick of us, and—”

Y/N stopped herself, incapable of completing what came to mind as more tears fell. The unlooked-for thought brought a new fear to her mind: a possible future without Daryl, having to tend and care for the baby alone.

It terrified her.

Daryl's expression softened even more as he saw her tear up. Damn hormones got her all upset, and all he wanted to do was take it all away. His chest twisted in pain when she mentioned he could get tired of her, so he gently pulled her closer to him with a firm grip.

“Hey, hey, hey, look at me,” he said, guiding her gaze to his by holding her chin. “Sunray, ya got nothin' to worry about, y'hear me? I ain't goin' nowhere... 'M plum crazy 'bout ya, and I ain't never leaving ya or our young'un, I promise. I ain't getting tired of you, sweetheart; yar everythin' to me.”

He confessed sweet things to her, wanting Y/N to feel the depth of his love for her.

“B-but… sniff the way you sniff yelled before…” She argued between sniffs and hiccups, being so focused on her mood that she kept forgetting to breathe properly.

“I thought I… I did something to sniff get you upset with me again, like... sniff like when sniff I misplaced your crossbow last week and you sniff wouldn't talk to me until I found it…”

She couldn't help but sob at the remembrance, making Daryl feel a pang of guilt when she mentioned his reaction earlier and last week. He had made her so hurt for not talking to her that it still poked at her. And damn, she was crying even more now. He hated seeing her like this. His little sunray was all cloudy because of him.

“Hey, come on now, sweetcheeks... I'm sorry for hollerin' at ya, ait? I was a bit... on edge, but it had nothin' to do with ya, ait? S'not nothin' to worry about.” He spoke softly as he pulled her even closer, his hand gently rubbing her back in soothing circles, just like she did to him minutes ago.

“And 'bout that crossbow, that was nothin'.”

“But... sniff you got so angry... hiccup I thought you'd hate me forever if I couldn't find it… hiccup and the thing is, you always placed it anywhere! hiccup”

Y/N protested, claiming Daryl was the one constantly dropping his weapon all over the house, but the truth was, she was actually the one changing its location.

The pregnancy sure had its shortcomings, but one of them that mostly affected Y/N was easily misplacing things because she became a lot more forgetful (possibly because of the amount of blood, nutrients, and oxygen she was losing each day to provide to her baby and help him/her keep growing healthily). So, each time she'd see the crossbow somewhere she previously placed it while doing house chores, she'd think it was Daryl who placed it there, and she'd put it somewhere else, and then she'd come across it again and place it somewhere else, over and over again.

It happened multiple times before with less meaningful things, but this was Daryl's crossbow we were talking about. When he would come back home looking for his main weapon, Daryl would find it missing, and when he would ask Y/N, she wouldn't remember where she last saw it.

After hours of scattering the whole house, she felt so silly when they finally found the crossbow inside their wardrobe. She couldn't even remember keeping it there, but... all pointed out that the pregnancy was just taking the best of her, and Daryl's stress wasn't really helping much.

Despite Daryl understanding the situation was a consequence of the pregnancy later on and trying as best as he could to make her feel better, inside her mind, she couldn't help but continue blaming herself for making him angry that day.

The silent treatment he gave her seemed to have broken her heart into two.

Daryl listened to her words, realising the severity of the case and feeling more stupid for not fully catching how much that incident had affected Y/N. Seeing her tears made his heart ache even more.

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, feeling guilty for causing her so much worry, knowing she had too much on her plate already.

“Hear me out now. I ain't never gonna hate ya, y'hear? It was ma fault for bein' dang careless with where I left ma stuff. I shouldan't given ya the silent treatment; I was jus... frustrated,” he let on, taking the blame to make her feel less remorseful.

“I'm sorry... hiccup I just don't want to make you angry again…” She hiccuped once more, feeling her eyes water up for the nth time.

Daryl gently cupped her face, his calloused thumbs wiping away the tears. “Ya ain't got nothin' to apologise for, sweetheart. Believe me, I'm the one who should be apologisin' to ya.”

Daryl sighed.

“ 'm sorry for giving' ya the silent treatment. I was bein' a damn fool. Ya didn't do nothin' wrong, ait? I'll never be angry with ya for real. I swear,” he admitted.

“Really?…” she asked with a trembling voice and big puppy eyes. He looked into her hazel eyes, his gaze loving.

“Really. I promise.”

He gently brushed a strand of hair from her face; his touch was tender.

“Yar carryin' our baby, remember? Tha's the most important thang rite now. Ain't nothin' else matters more than ya and our young'un. I ain't gonna waste time bein' mad over stupid shit like lost crossbows when I gotta take care of ya,” he professed, making a second vow to himself to keep you and his future child safe.

Y/N sniffed her feelings for the last time and tried to collect herself.

“Alright…”

She placed her chin over his head and hugged his neck softly, allowing him to place his head over the beginning of her belly, giving him access to listen to the baby's little movements and her heartbeats.

“I love you, Daryl... I love you so much, I don't know what I would do without you.” She still felt somewhat emotional as she said this, but she gave it her all to avoid crying again.

Daryl wrapped his arms around Y/N while placing his head gently over her belly. He listens intently to her heartbeats, the sound of them comforting him. He momentarily turned his head to place a gentle kiss on her belly, his lips lingering for a moment as he treasured this moment.

“I love ya too, baby. Y'all and this little 'un got me wrapped around yer dang fingers. Don't know what I'd do without y'all...” He hugged her tightly, not wanting to let her go.

He caressed her cheek with his hand, his fingers lightly tracing the contour of her jawline.

He then gently rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling as they shared this intimate moment as they looked forward to whatever the future had in store for them because, if anything was sure, it was that they would do anything to stay together in love.

EXTRA:

They stayed on the pond for a while longer until Y/N said:

“I wanna have strawberries and cheese,” and Daryl looked at her like she had gone crazy.

“Berries 'n cheese? You serious?” he questioned. “It tastes good…” she whispered, defending herself.

Daryl shook his head, still not finding sense in those strange pregnancy food cravings, but he still wouldn't deny any of her cravings. If his queen wanted to eat strawberries and cheese, the man would get them for her.

“If tha' what ya want,” he answered, shrugging, making Y/N hug him, glad that he agreed on getting the'snack’ for her.

“I love you, Daryl.” “Love ya too, sweetcheeks.”

A/N: OH MY GOOD GOD, FINALLY. THIS WAS THE LONGEST I'VE EVER WRITTEN. Editing this was such a pain... But was worth it! Also, I may be planning a few more stuff for this cottagecore reader... as well as other projects of course. I think I'm gonna be super occupied now because I've got work, but I'm also planning a travel (and I wanna participate in two Daryl-related writing challenges...).

May God help me because I don't think I can help myself on this 😭 but anws, this was super endearing to write. It went through very little changes since the draft, compared to other stuff I wrote, and I did a collage image banner for it, inspired by @dixons-sunshine whenever she works on her stuff. Yeah, as you can see, all this post is focused on you hahaha, hope you had the greatest day today and I love ya lots. May God keep you for even longer and give you many more reasons to rejoice, celebrate and thank Him IJN 🥰

Now, imma retire now bc I stayed up almost all night trying to edit this... and I got work early in the morning... (seriously, this was like 12 pages on Word... 💀) See ya all around!

Thanks and God bless!~

𓆩 ♱ 𓆪

support divider from @cafekitsune, on this post

[little-mouse-gardens]

Random idea that came my mind awhile back, rambled about this on discord but-*plops this here* I am rattling this around in my brain

Tw : mentions of violence, yandere behaviors, blood

I was Thinking about elderitch forest god Donnie basically making this cottagecore dreamscape for researcher reader so he can keep them by his side.

For reader, a researcher and selected member of a team that would be sent to go out and find some ancient ruins and study the wildlife in an unexplored forest, It was just supposed to be a simple trip to study the wildlife and old ruins in an unexplored part of the forest. Nothing more.

However, readers team didn’t seem to read the signs near the entrance……nor did they feel the same set of eyes burning into their backs like reader began to feel the second they stepped foot over the old stone gates that led into the forest.

The silence in the forest is almost deafening…everything in the forest-hell the forest itself seems to have all eyes on them. Watching their every move or trying to train themselves on every word they whispered to eachother.

Reader even seems to pick up how, for lack of a better term, kind the forest is towards them compared to their friends.

A lot more rare wildlife seems to suddenly approach them out of nowhere. They stand in one spot for a few minutes and when they start to walk they notice how a trail of flowers seems to follow right behind them with every step. Their favorite flowers too.

Maybe, every so often, they may catch a glimpse of Donnie’s smiling face every so often. His smile is seemingly so soft for that brief moment. So soft. Warm. Welcoming, and almost loving if reader manages to get a better look before they blink and He’s gone again.

He’s been lonely for a long time, and the moment he set eyes on reader while they were carefully saving some wild ducklings stuck in the middle of a river or scolding their team for breaking some rare plants, he’s head over heels in love.

Their smile…their laugh, the way they care about his forest and the creatures within it. How respectful they are to his old monuments and they ignored their teams complaints about stopping so they could fix one of his statues they’d bumped into.

In his mind he finally found the one. He wouldn’t be lonely anymore. He’d have someone to share all the love he could give with. He would give reader so much love and attention, he’d do everything he could to make them happy.

…which reminded him that he needed to take care of their little…friends first after he spotted them walking off to find some place to camp.

When nightfall comes…..everything goes down hill so fast. A storm hits. During the panic of being chased by wild animals and avoiding falling trees, reader whips their head around to look for their missing friend and ends up getting knocked out by a tree branch.

Everything is a blur from there. Screams, roaring and snarling of animals, soft whispers against their temple as their ears rang. The feeling of being scooped and cradled to someone’s chest. The scent of blood in the air.

By the time readers up they are in a completely different space. The sound of soft music is playing when their eyes flutter open and the feeling of warm fluffy blankets surround them.

They don’t even remember exactly what happened-all reader knows is that when they woke up they found themselves bundled up in the comfiest cottage they’ve ever seen and to the soft sound of his voice. They turn and spot a particularly peculiar sight. A mutant softs-hell turtle wearing nicely embroidered sweater, shorts and an apron that read ‘genius chef’ on the front on lavender stitching.

Before they can even say a word he’s already glancing over his shoulder at them with a warm smile and nice tray of their favorite comfort foods in hand. This loving look on his face as she sets the tray down on their lap and helps reader sit up, “well, good morning start light. I was worried you’d got caught up in the rain again” he says, nothing but warmth and tenderness in his tone as he fluffs their pillows and lifts the lid off of the delicious smelling soup, “here, my darling, I made you some nice warm vegetable soup to help chase that nasty cold away”

readers mind is so fuzzy…that they don’t even register him calling them darling until they’re halfway through eating the meal he made or the ring that’s been slipped onto their finger.

However everything about him feels so…familiar. Very brief memory’s of them and Donnie going out on picnic dates and working on the garden out in the backyard.

This wave of familiarity seems to wash over them as they relax into the pillows and they give him a shy, “oh….sorry about that, you know how I get when I get focused with gardening”

Donnie just chuckles and sits himself on the edge of the bed next to reader to make sure they like the food he made them. His heart practically jumping for joy as he looks at that sweet smile on their face.

Sure he may have….replaced a few memories of theirs with a few that would keep them with him

But hey….in his mind, what they don’t know won’t hurt them right?

After all, their friends can’t wander his forest forever in search of place they will never be able find.

[batsrambles]

just finished reading the raven boys, so while i wait for dream thieves to arrive at my door, here's the innacurate way my brain imagined the gang:

spoilers. if that's needed. plus warning, this is hella long

BLUE:

• sorry ok i could not imagine her with anything but blue hair. like a dark almost purply blue, the kind you could get away with by pretending it's black. i am 100% sure everyone and their mom imagined her with blue hair but shhhh my tumblr post my rules.

• big ol eyes. starin into your soul. idk why. felt right. my brain was like hmm magnet for energy = big ol starin eyes? window to soul? i think yes.

• back to the hair i could only imagine it like. spiky. like goth girl's first time cutting her own bangs. or like the animal crossing bed head hair when you don't log in for a couple of days and pop back up. half way through i reminded myself she has at least a tiny ponytail and can't have hair THAT short but oh well

• the clothes i kept imagining her with flopped from scene to like cottagecore but bright ass colours. so not cottagecore at all but like. the dresses skirts cardigans all that. but bright. honestly she's fashion goals in my head

• also unrelated but she'd def choose rosalina in any game she's an option. queen

GANSEY:

• play that funky muuusic whiiite boouuuyyy. except that mf has been like around the world in 80 days and does nawt stop running around after the ley lines so he is definitely not paper pale unlike someone

• i knowww he doesn't have glasses on for the majority of the book but i could NOT imagine him without them at all. like it was a shock any time it was mentioned he did have them on my brain had to buffer like "did he not. always have. them.??.????". the round metal frame kind, with nose pads, and rose-gold in colour

• brown eyes feel right for him. sad ol deer baby eyes

• also i kept. reading his lines. in an australian accent? i read a lot in public & i live in australia so thats probably why. i mixed it in with irish sometimes and i think that's because halfway through a page i'd start reading in my own voice in my head rather than making character voices. idk what was happening in my head

• i imagine he walked into a store once, looked at the shelves with all the polo shirts, took one of every colour, hasn't grown since so hasn't needed any other clothes, and has one specific colour for every day of the week + special occassions. also like seven pairs of the exact same shorts and wears his school shoes everywhere

ADAM:

• green eyes. but the browny kind. green-brown. hazel? idk. yk what i mean

• i also imagine he's Had the baby's first home-haircut thing goin on, then it grew out because imagine having time to go get a haircut with all he's got going on. he's the guy that's always holding his own fringe back with a hand to fucking see. he's definitely been forced to tie it up like a unicorn horn more than once. also don't think the back is safe. it's not long enough for an actual ponytail but it's thick enough for another unicorn horn

• freckles. drops mic. walks away. idc. he's the kinda guy to be freckly everywhere. won't elaborate. i don't think this is an uncommon opinion like blue and her blue hair

• also a mole like on his jaw. idk why. sitting here tryna imagine the characters n that's what i see so.

• also also i know his hair is "dusty" but my brain interpreted that as dirty blond when i think it's blond blond so oops

• also also also braces. idk why. he's a dork

• i read his lines in like a vaguely texan accent. Vaguely. idk why again. it's not like he's ever said anything to warrant that. i think i did a british accent at the start too 😭 sorry adam you didn't deserve that

can you tell i really like adam parrish

NOAH:

• looooong hair. worse than i imagined adam. like noah's is straight as fuck too. i also imagined he hunches just a lil bit, so his hair would be like half covering his face

• and i knowwww it's hella innacurate but fsr my brain saw him with pitch-black hair.

• so yes as you can tell i was imagining that one girl out of the tv yk the one whenever noah just appeared out of thin air. which was before i found out he was dead dead and not depressed-mentally-dead dead, so you can imagine the face i pulled like "oh fuck i was kidding when i imagined him ghostly"

• and after that point he got like rlly prominent cheekbones in my brain, like skeletal

• i also actually imagined him as rlly tall. idk why. it just felt right. like an ominous shadow in the distance

• also also how could he not have like THE 2000s emo fringe. HOW COULD HE NOT

• also also also tooth gap idk why feels right felt right will always be in my head

my favourite little freak. fav character. was so distraught when they found his license

RONAN:

• i am incapable of tanning like at all i just get sun burnt or more freckly so i can only imagine ronan as the same

• also i could only imagine him as lanky as fuck for 90% of the book. i know he's nooooot i just. i couldn't imagine anything but tall and lanky. it was only after the chapter with adam's dad that i gave in and stopped imagining him with twig arms

• like adam, i also imagined him with freckles but like, not everywhere like adam, just in very specific spots. he's got more moles than he does freckles. so i wouldn't really describe it as freckly the way i imagined adam freckly. confused? good.

• also my brain associated him with a dark purple. idk why again. it just. it feels right.

• i feeeel like he'd have too many piercings but can't get away with half of them because damn private schools

• fuzzy head. like a kiwi. icr if he's meant to be skin tight shaved but my brain went to kiwi straight away regardless

• i just stuck to my own accent for him once i figured out he was irish. which if you must know,,, is a sometimes subtle and sometimes really unsubtle kildare accent. i doubt it's right but it works in my head

can you imagine the shock i felt shaving my head two or three days before my book came in the mail and found out ronan lynch exists. and he's irish too. bro. like mind blown. ok. i see. we are one ig maybe. idk let me read more books and report back.

i am aware there is the graphic novel (!!!) designs and stuff so i'm. waaaaaaaaay off but. let me have this i'm autistic abt these freaks

[crowleysgirl56]

Wildest dreams wishes for Good Omens Season 3 which will probably not come true but I can still hope hey!

Number 13.

It’s Aftercare Week following the Smut War over on the Reddit @goodomensafterdark subreddit, so in honour of caring for the tired Smutgoblins, please indulge in this little wildest dream Cottagecore fantasy that I have, want, and desire (one of many!)

In the garden of a modest cottage nestled in the South Downs, an angel and a demon are finally enjoying a long overdue picnic.

Aziraphale sits on the large tartan rug spread out under the garden’s apple tree, carefully slicing one of the trees given fruits. Crowley lounges next to him, propped up on his side by an elbow. His dark sunglasses long since discarded, he serenely gazes up at his angel and enjoys the cool breeze coming off the coast.

Aziraphale glances down at Crowley and smiles fondly as he continues to cut.

“You know, I think you’ve outdone yourself with this year’s harvest my dear. I have to say these apples are the best yet”.

“Might have used a bit of a demonic miracle or two.” Crowley grinned and wriggled his fingers.

“Well I’m just relieved you finally stopped yelling at the poor plants.”

“Nothing wrong with a bit of forceful encouragement.”

At this Aziraphale cocked an eyebrow, “Yes, except you were scaring the neighbours”.

“Added bonus.”

Aziraphale chuckled and shook his head as he offered a slice of apple. “Honestly, you really must try one.”

Crowley gave a small smile and gently said “They’re for you Angel”.

“Then perhaps, I can at least tempt you into tasting one?” An imperceptible, wicked grin spread across Aziraphale’s face as he leaned in closer to Crowley, holding the apple slice between them. Crowley’s eye widened slightly as he sat up a little straighter. Finally he reached out and held Aziraphale’s wrist, and brought the slice to his mouth. He gently rubbed his thumb along the bottom of Aziraphale’s palm as his bit down into the piece.

Neither broke eye contact as Crowley chewed. The look Aziraphale gave him was a mixture of shock and hunger. Crowley wondered to himself if this was how he always looked when gazing at Aziraphale eating at The Ritz.

Finally Crowley swallowed. Aziraphale eagerly asked what he thought. Crowley snaked forward as his gaze fell to Aziraphale’s neck. “I’ve had…better”, he murmured as he pressed his lips to Aziraphale’s Adams Apple.

Aziraphale’s eyes fell shut as he let the moment take him. A small note of anxiety crossed his face a moment later. “Crowley. Wait. We’re outside. Someone might see.”

“Can’t. Scared them all away remember”, Crowley murmured into Aziraphale’s neck, as he continued to pepper kisses up and down his throat.

“I didn’t mean the neighbours”. Aziraphale drew back slightly and pointed upwards. Crowley rolled his eyes grumbling, “Well they shouldn’t be looking then, the filthy perves!”

“Please Crowley” Aziraphale’s puppy dog eyes are what does it. Crowley sighs heavily then snaps his fingers. Suddenly the surrounding trees begin to grow, branches reaching out above them, and soon their picnic spot is covered by a large, thick, canopy of leaves.

“Better?” Crowley once again reduces the distance between him and his angel.

“Much better dear.” Aziraphale’s hand drifts up to Crowley’s face, lightly brushing his cheek.

“Good. Now, where did I put that Apple? Ah! Here it is.” Crowley’s lips are back on Aziraphale’s neck. They fall back onto the blanket, neither caring about what actually happened to the rest of the apple.

Wow, I didn’t mean to make this one so long, but once I started I couldn’t seem to stop. Hope you enjoyed the erotic garden interlude.

[thatdeadaquarius]

hi! quick tip: if you’re on mobile type ‘:readmore:’ then hit enter! i dunno if you’ve been told but. yeah :)

also, your recent piece on apd was incredible!! very nice to see representation!! keep up the excellent work <3 it did get me thinking though: reader with vocal stims, cementing it in the acolytes’ minds that you don’t speak the language of teyvat, and then you’re all just stuck in this loop of “oh man they don’t speak the same language of me” but they DO

if asks are closed or this is outside of your comfort zone then feel free to delete! have a lovely day <3

AHFJLAKLOSUDBABWB U FELT REPRESENTED YAY!!

A cookie for thee, and also extra for telling me how to do Expand thingy on mobile ilysm 🤲🍩🍪✨️ (pspspsps all askers,, u get cookies,,cometothedarksidepspspspspsss)

I was so worried bc it wasnt like super all the aspects of Apd issues, and it was very based on my personal experience w/ similar symptoms + other bits of ppl's experience so i was hoping it still felt somewhat recognizable for ppl w/APD!! Tysm for the feedback :D

NOTE ABOUT VOCAL STIM DEPICTED:

So i think ive experienced verbal stims, so this is a combination of others shared experiences + personal experience, and while everybody experiences things individually/their own way, please let me know if there is something obviously inaccurate/maybe even offensive.

You will definitely not make me mad or otherwise offended, I really want to hear that kind of feedback from others who vocal stim!

Thank you so much for reading! :)

___________________♡_____________________

So lets just say that ur vocal stims r pretty non-verbal or non-sensical ("her sister was a WITCH BRO-" like memes that dont make sense to them)

Or like, u have verbal stims that r actual language but they dont hang around long enough to hear it maybe ??

♤

So like, this ends up happening

Chongyun was exploring near Qingce village for supernatural stuff as usual

And U were just vibin, chillin near Qingce village livin ur best Creator god cottagecore life

And ur like planting a new seedbed, Jueyun Chilis :) (bc jfc however bad it was to collect them in game, its 10x worse in person, ur tired of running around town getting chilis, Qingce isnt exactly flat 💀)

♡

And every seed u put in the dirt ur like "boop!"

And Chongyun comes by, bc u at edge of town, and the villagers mentioned a strange new traveler settling here

He immediately feels a wave of that same feeling he used to feel when the Creator god had their eyes on him, or would assist him in battles

So poor boy almost overheats trying to climb up the hill to ur house

And is like "??...Creator??"

Then kinda stops bc ur just like-

"Boop!" "Boop!" "Boop!" ☺️ LMAO

And then u finish planting seeds, get the watering can,,

And everytime u pour it just-

... "EJACK! Come, water!"

(Ur saying it so fast too, and he's still somewhat farther away, so he cant rlly hear that well too)

...

..

And its just so incomprehensible to Chongyun he's deadass like "A DIFFERENT LANGUAGE??!"

So of course,

He waves, 👋

And ur like omg icy boy!! :D 🧊💙

But u dont say anything yet, and then he starts,, miming?? He points at u? Then like?? Points up? The sky?? Then like, mimes swinging his claymore???

(ARE U THE CREATOR??!!)

U look up, very confused 🧐

He seemes frustrated.

Then he just kinda, bows and leaves?

...

...oh no.

Do Teyvat people speak that crazy language that u saw in game?

Instead of English??

Well.

Shit.

...

.... U havent rlly talked to anyone in Qingce yet since u just got here in Teyvat like a week ago

And found this abandoned house

♧

It just gets worse 😭

Bc slowly, one by one,

Each playable character in Liyue comes to attempt to talk to you

(And since u have a farm, and they keep giving u food/goods? For some reason?? U still dont need to go into town)

☆

At one point, even Zhongli shows up

And thru complex miming and hand motions u think he means dont worry abt him? Like just go back to what u were doing?? Okay??

U guess he's just gonna chill here for now?

...

...Zhongli just kinda,, squints, and puts his hand on his chin in his classic "thinking very hard" face

So ur tending to the garden saying,

" FREDDY! You're supposed to be on lockdown!Vanessa...I'm... a Material Gworl✨️"💀

...Just, on an endless loop LMAO-

...

(Hes trying to see if he recognizes any part of ur language, poor old man 🤔🤔😭)

♤

And it just snowballs even more, and now,

None of you have even tried to say a word to each other. 🤡

(Other than ur vocal stims)

...

Keqing: "Perhaps, it's similar to Fontaine's native language?"

You, in the background: "🎵 dUdE,,, sHe'S jUsT nOt InTo YoU 🎵" (mimicking the autotune and everything)

Ganyu & Keqing: "..."

You: " 🎵 gOtTa MoVe On, mOvE oN-🎵 Hurricane Katrina?? More like Hurricane Tortilla!"

Ganyu & Keqing: "...Can't be,"

"what else do we got? Should we call Yunjin to better mime for us??"

♡

Xiao's the first one to even get close to knowing u can actually talk to each other, bc he's always checking in on u most often <3

And he only heard u bc u swore u heard a monster outside ur house one night and came out ur house with a pitchfork, very nervous,

"...Hey there demons.. it's me.. ya boy."

(And u just keep stimming that out of nervousness to make urself feel better as u check around ur house lol)

Xiao: "??? Demons???!! WAIT-"

♧

By then, it literally took like 6 months for yall to finally have a real conversation 💀💀

...

(Chongyun got so embarassed bc he was one of the first few to misunderstand he overheated rip🙏)

Im. So. Sorry. This. Is. ✨️Ass✨️

Twas the best scenario i could come up with, im telling yall, im not as funny as the ppl who send in these asks 😔

Keep in mind, I never claimed i was funny or a good writer, u cant hold it against me lol /lh

Lower ur expectations LMAO

Well i hope u got sm enjoyment outta this anon, sorry abt the quality!! :)

Cheers,

🌒🌊🌧Aquarius♒️🌌🌘

[rinadragomir]

pov: you’re dating... (part |||)

Part 1; Part 2

Will Herondale

Very clingy, would stand behind the door like a puppy when you're taking a bath. Get used to it, it can't be fixed~

"My love", "darling", might call you "his angel" but only when he's extremely soft and a bit vulnerable around you

Expect tons of little but meaningful gifts. Silver bracelet with the date of your first kiss, rings with your initials, short funny poems with your personal jokes.

Weird exhibition dates ~

Openly flirts with you in public, touches, kisses here and there. But once you're alone in your bedroom, turns into a loving marshmallow, acts very gently.

Will ask your permission/if you're comfortable enough even though you're married for 10 years and you're literally throwing him on a bed.

Please say that you'll always protect him and never leave, he still tends to feel like a scared lost little boy

he is very fond of gesticulating, be careful! he has very long arms and they just fly around, there's always a chance of a crash with your head😞

Tessa Gray

Cottagecore dates: you have a little picnic next to the lake, your head is on her lap, she's reading out loud, her fingers run through your hair.

You'll have to deal with her weird food habits. If you don't specify what exactly do u want you'll end up having a ginger ice cream and it would be mean to refuse.

And trust me, you don't want to eat ginger ice cream

Endless trips, at least once a month. She just can't stop taking pics of you, she's too fascinated by your appearance. But also because she might lose you one day and she wants to make every day memorable.

Maximum you can expect from her in public is handholding, she's "shy". Or she wants to seem shy🤨 because as soon as you're alone... there's no escape. (We all read "After the Bridge")

You two come to any private room and the next thing you know - you're pressed to the bed and your clothes is a mess. How it happened? You'll never know, but you won't complain

Forehead kisses before you go to sleep

Is always ready to mentally destroy everyone who tries to hurt you

Jem Carstairs

Concert dates, he loves watching you singing and dancing to the music, wouldn't notice if you're bad at this, he's too in love

His fingers touching yours in public but in a secretive way, under the table, in his pocket

This is canon but still worth mentioning. He's the most polite and respectful man in public, leaves the softest kisses on your hand every time he sees you. Endless teasing but in a respectful way, you know.

Once you're alone... well I'm praying for your innocence. You should've known that he won't let you leave this bedroom for next 20 hours, i warned you, you never listen 🙄

Loves whispering to you in Mandarin. If you try to learn some phrases for him - he'll be smiling for the whole week nonstop

Cares about you more than for himself, tries to do anything to make your daily routine as easy as possible. Helps you cleaning, goes to the store, tries to make food. But don't complain if it turns out to be inedible, he's trying his best

You're his endless source of inspiration, none of your anniversary will be complete without a melody written especially for you

[moonlight-prose]

FROM EDEN, LOVE GROWS

a/n: this is a small very wildly written joel fic. i couldn't decide if i wanted to use pre-outbreak joel or just modern-day joel. so it's joel that lives in a cabin and finally given the peace that he's wanted since the outbreak happened. there's no real timeline and it doesn't fit into anything i've written before, so it's just this. a massive thank you to my darling @sunflowersteves for bet-reading this and screaming over it with me.

dedicated to: @saradika happy valentine's day/signed, sealed, delivered day babes! i hope you enjoy your small gift!🖤🖤

summary: days spent in flower fields and cooking in a sunbathed kitchen with him.

word count: 2.1k+

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, romance, joel being happy, cottagecore vibes, domestic bliss, p in v sex, cumplay, cumeating, fluff.

playlist

Flowers brushed along your hands as you walked through the overgrown field he tended to complain about. Yet with all his complaints, he never once thought about cutting them down. Perhaps it was the way your face lit up with a smile as you saw the array of colors splashed like a painting outside, or even the way you looked standing in the center. Joel couldn’t find it in himself to take this small Eden away from you.

He dropped the pieces of wood beside the front step. All prepared to be tossed into the fireplace as the both of you prepared dinner in your too small kitchen. The space was filled with dried flowers and herbs hanging from the ceiling, small trinkets you’d collected through your time, and pictures.

Oh how you couldn’t stop taking pictures.

Wherever Joel went he could see small polaroid images of himself, of you two together, and even of Ellie. You took a liking to her the second you met her. Knowing how much Joel cared for the girl. In your own way, you were her mother, the person she looked up to. Joel found that his heart that died long ago, stirred to life. You brought out a side of him that disappeared a long time ago and he didn’t seem to mind one bit. Content to remain in this haven you created together for as long as you could.

He could hear you humming a tune as you picked yet another long sprig of lavender. The purple color was vibrant and alive when you held it. He’d never had an appreciation for flowers until you. Found them to be things that grew, and more often than not…things that he’d later cut down.

Yet now he could see how beautiful they were. How beautiful you were surrounded by them.

The sunlight turned the field ethereal, your worn dress fluttering in the breeze. He felt his breath catch, his eyes tracing the curves that were see through in the thin fabric. The very curves that he had kissed, touched, last night. Until you were breaking beneath his palms, begging him to put you back together with his love.

“What are you staring at?” you called, the flowers you’d gathered practically spilled out of your arms.

Joel’s lips turned up into a grin, his eyes tracing down the length of your body as you made your way down the pathway. The skirt of your dress swishing with each step, the top practically slipping down your shoulders. He wanted to get you inside, build the fire, and peel away the thin layer you wore. Although that might construe him as being impatient and hasty. Joel didn’t care, he’d ask to have you in the middle of the flower field you adore so much, simply to be close to you.

“You,” he murmured, feeling his heart swell at the sight of your smile growing.

He’d never been so in love with someone as he was with you right now.

“Enjoying the view?” you asked, dropping the flowers on the old wooden table he and Tommy managed to scrape together.

His arm wrapped around your waist, tugging you closer. “Very much.”

Your breathy giggle did him in. Turned his insides into something akin to melted chocolate as you stood on your toes, your arms going around his neck to pull him closer. He caught the faint scent of your homemade perfume wafting to his nose, the floral aroma turning his mind hazy. Heat pooled in his body, the heady sensation of need springing to life in his body.

He forgot about the wood, about the dinner, the second your lips slid against his. The small moan of contentment you let out into his mouth reminded Joel of what exactly he had. A life he couldn’t have ever dreamed about. Licking into your mouth, he began to gently ruck up the skirt of your dress. Desperate to feel some part of your skin that lay beneath, like a delicate bud waiting to bloom for him.

“Joel,” you sighed, head falling back as he nipped down your throat, laving his tongue over the small bites to soothe the pain. “The dinner.”

Grunting, he stepped forward, forcing you back until your legs hit the table that was partially covered in flowers. With gentle encouragement, he helped you onto it, his hands now shoving up your dress with a vigor that hadn’t been there before. But you knew Joel when he got like this. Nothing would deter the path he so clearly set for himself.

“We’ll get to that,” he mumbled, grasping on the top of your dress and yanking it down like he’d been dreaming of doing.

Your sharp gasp was like music to his ears, the heat pooling even faster into his body. Who were you to complain when Joel’s idea of pleasure was worshiping you like a goddess. As if you were an ethereal being that emerged from the forest, dripping in sunlight and petals, and his only goal in life was to reverently tend to your alter. To proclaim his soul as yours.

His palms cupped your breasts, thumbs teasing your peaked nipples and drawing out sounds he wished he could hear on a loop in his head. It was when he took one into his mouth that he felt his cock twitch in his pants. Your hand digging into his graying hair, yanking on it as he scraped his teeth along the sensitive bud.

“Don’t tease me,” you begged, practically bowing into his hold. “Please baby. I want—oh fuck.”

His hands slipped between your thighs, stroking the plush flesh with his calloused palms. Pleasure sparked up your spine, turning your mind dizzy as you tried to form coherent words. Yet they all seemed to fade away the longer he teased you. So close to what you needed the most, but still so far.

With a surge of bravery, you took a hold of his wrist, shoving his palm even higher until his fingers dipped into your soaked pussy. Your saccharine smile was all he saw as shock crossed his face at the realization. All the while you pranced in the field, gathering your flowers, and practically calling out to him…you’d been bare beneath your dress. Wearing nothing to block him from taking you like this.

“Shit,” he rasped, his fingers finding your clit with ease as you practically dripped down his palm. “All day?”

You nodded, shifting up to catch his lips in a wet kiss, your tongue sliding along his. “Wondered when you’d come and finally take me Miller,” you breathed, hips bucking into his hand.

Joel’s other hand gripped the back of your neck, his lips roughly pressing against your with a raw passion that only came when he was like this. Too worked up for words. So he allowed his actions to speak for him. He took and took until you were breathless, until you were begging him to keep going. To take everything you had to offer and replace it with himself.

“You’re a menace sugar.” He pressed down on your clit, smiling at the sound of your mewled whimper. “You wanted me to take ya huh? To fill you up until you were dripping of me?”

You nodded, fingers scraping along his clothed shoulders. “Yes.”

Stroking your chin lightly, he thumbed your bottom lip, pulling at it until you took it into your mouth. Your tongue licking along the digit with a need that caused his whole body to throb.

“Open your eyes for me baby.” He groaned as they fluttered open, lust filling them. “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

The drunken smile that crossed your lips had him reaching down to unbuckle his pants, the thumb on your clit still working you over. Your legs were hitched over his hips, pulling him closer as you moaned into his neck. Unable to ask him for what you wanted. Except he already knew it. Because that was the thing about Joel.

He never told you that payed attention, never let you in on that small fact, until he was giving you what you unconsciously wanted. The polaroid pictures littered around the house was proof enough. Fuck, even the flowers he always brought home for you, wild or not. He knew what you wanted, knew what you loved, and gave it to you. Just to see that smile cross your lips again—all for him.

“You want me to fuck you honey?” Nodding, you tried to press him closer, your hands gripping onto the back of his neck. “I need words.”

“Yes Joel,” you whimpered. “Need you inside me. Please baby. Please—”

Your head fell back, mouth falling open in a silent shout as he sunk into your, the pleasure searing through both your bodies. His forehead fell against yours, hand slapping against the table behind you as he curled over your body. Joel barely kept himself together at the feeling of your pussy clenching around him so tight. It made him lightheaded.

His breath came out in pants, cock throbbing along your walls when he pulled back slightly. Except your legs kept him from moving too far, turning his thrust into a stunted movement. Yet that seemed to be exactly what you needed. Crying against his shoulder, you clung to his body, your hips coming up off the table to meet his thrusts. Desperate for the budding release in your body.

“So fuckin’ good,” he slurred against your throat, licking at the sweat that formed—moaning at the salty taste.

Shoving his hips forward and sending you up the table slightly, he felt you bear down around him. Moaning, you felt his thumb return to your clit, spreading your slick up. You knew you wouldn’t last long, the coil growing tighter by the second. Yet you also knew Joel was right there with you. Unable to control himself.

With each throaty grunt, his hips slammed into yours, the head of his cock rubbing against that spot that had your toes curling. Wrapping an arm around his shoulders, you leaned back on one hand, rolling your hips to meet his movements. It was a debauched quick fuck that could not be considered anything other than pure filth. Except Joel made it beautiful. He whispered praise with each kiss, reminding you of why you were with him in the first place.

Your heart belonged to him—the space he carved within you so large that you could barely stand it at times.

“So fuckin’ gorgeous honey,” he mumbled against your lips, breathing hotly into your mouth. “I–I fuck I—”

“I know,” you panted, feeling him pinch your clit between two fingers. “I love you Joel.”

His hips stuttered as he cried out against your breast, his teeth sinking into the skin. With one last thrust, he broke, coming apart in your arms and spurting into your warm pussy. That seemed to be all it took for you to follow him. Your body went taut, the tightness in your stomach finally breaking to fill you with that warm pleasure you ached for. Shaking in his arms, you felt his hands stroke your back, soothing you until eventually you came down from that euphoric high.

The sob of his name on your lips echoing in your small cabin.

“I love you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips, happy to remain right where he was.

The sun was beginning to dip beneath the treeline, turning your small Eden dark, but neither of you minded. There was safety in this small life you’d built together. Comfort filled the cracks of your home, seeping into your skin slowly. This was your forever with him, the one thing you longed to have for some time.

Eventually Joel pulled out, his fingers dipping down to gather what dripped out of you. Moaning softly, you smiled as he slipped it into his mouth, his eyes fluttering shut at the combined taste. It didn’t take you asking him to know what you wanted. Sliding his cum through your folds, he pressed his slick coated fingers against your lips too. A smile crossed his face as you groaned at the taste, licking at him until the pads of his fingers were clean.

“We don’t have to cook dinner,” he said softly, spreading your thighs with his hands.

You laughed, your hand digging into his hair once more. “Joel, we have to eat something.”

“I know.”

He didn’t give you time to respond, already hooking your legs over his shoulders and pushing your dress up even further. And you let him. You gave into the pleasure one more time, the warmth of his love caressing you with each passing moment. Dinner would be prepared eventually, but right now you would bask in his touch. Happy to remain in this blooming love for as long as time allowed.

[ask-spooky-manor]

Toby Character Headcanons

So I was tagged with a list of questions for me to answer that I reblogged, and while none of them were sent in my inbox, I still wanted to answer some cause they were really interesting.

Trigger Warning: I do talk about how abuse has affected Toby and how it has left some long lasting scars mentally and emotionally speaking. Not all of the headcanons are like that though, just be cautious. Nothing too in detail but can be uncomfortable

Clothing style

Toby’s style is like mixing grunge with cottagecore (goblincore is what it’s usually called). He likes his knitted sweaters and earthy tones, but at the same time he enjoyes ripped jeans and chunky black boots that can basically double as a weapon.

Eating Habits

Toby has a massive appetite. You will always catch him with a snack in his hands or complaining that he’s hungry despite having eaten a full meal not ten minutes ago. He just really likes food, and people in the house know to give him an extra serving for dinner

Hobbies

Music is more of a passion so tinkering around and making little gadgets is probably his number one hobby. He mainly likes to make things that blow up. Other general hobbies he has are cooking, hiking, uhhhh arson, and drawing

Fighting Style

He’s fully aware that he’s not the strongest or fastest or even has the most endurance, but Toby is extremely clever and crafty. He thinks way outside of the box and relies heavily on all of his odd little gadgets and inventions to surprise an enemy like smoke bombs, traps, loud fire crackers, you name it. He is an unpredictable fighter because you’ll never know what he has up his sleeves, and the surprise is something he will very much use against you. Not to mention that when he’s stuck in a sticky situation, he’s really good at coming up with on the spot plans that will get him out of trouble.

Ways he says I love you

Well, he will just say it. Toby won’t shy away from using the L word on anyone he even mildly likes. Though another way he shows it is through encouraging his loved ones to take care of themselves. He will make sure you eat properly, sleep well, take your meds, etc. Also hugs, Toby is a hugger.

Introvert or Extrovert

Extrovert, which surprised him when he realized it. Toby thought he was introverted for the longest time when in reality he was just dealing with a lot of nasty people who made him feel unsafe. Being alone felt safer, but at the same time it made him miserable because he naturally gains more energy with good people around. Ending up in the manor was the best thing to happen to him because now he has buddies he can spend time with like all the time.

Religious or Non-religious?

Complicated as fuck. He was raised Christian only to kind of despise organized religions as a whole. He would say he’s an atheist if he didn’t live with a literal moon god (Ben), so now he just has a beef with gods in general (Except Ben, they’re chill). Basically he thinks about how if these beings really are all powerful, all kind, all forgiving and omniscient and good then why the fuck did none of them help him? Why did it reach a point where he killed his own father? Why was he never saved? Basically, the idea of there being a higher power gets him in a bitter mood. Best to avoid the subject altogether.

Something he could never forgive.

Toby is generally a forgiving person but the one thing he could never forgive is when someone takes advantage of the kindness he is willing to give. Classmates did it in school as a way to bully him, and his dad would sometimes guilt trip favors out of him (usually to sneak him more beer, which will end up biting Toby in the ass when facing his drunk dad later on). Just the general act of trying to manipulate Toby, knowing they can toy with the heart he wears on his sleeve, is enough for him to want that person dead.

Something that scares him.

For the small, irrational fear; Toby is afraid of the dark. It’s just a childhood fear that he never really got over. It’s fine if he’s with someone but being alone in the dark will put him in fight or flight mode. For the bigger existential shit: dreads the idea of everyone secretly hating him. His own father and peers have created this idea in Toby’s mind that there is nothing good about him. That his own existence is nothing but a burden on others, so there’s always this fear that his friends and even his own boyfriend don’t actually like him and that it’s all a front. He knows that realistically that’s not true, but it’s hard fighting against a toxic mindset that was pushed into his brain at such a young age.

Did he grow up too fast?

No, thankfully. It was Lyra who had to grow up too fast. Connie did her best, she really did, but there have been a lot of times where it was Lyra who had to care for Toby. Especially after really bad nights where their dad thought having one more bottle wouldn’t be a problem. Toby was unlucky enough to have been surrounded by people that were cruel to him, but thanks to Lyra and his mom he at least was able to be a kid from time to time.

[cowboyemeritus]

ugh thinking about being Mary's cottagecore gf again

“Dude, is that your girl?” Mary instantly perks up at the mention of you, his head whipping in the direction the guitar tech is looking. You’re not hard to spot, a flare of pastels in a sea of black and blood red. Your eyes meet and you smile, giving him a cute little wave that makes his heart skip a beat.

“Yeah,” Mary says, grinning. “That’s her.” The tech snickers.

“She just get back from the renaissance festival or something?” He’s been a judgmental asshole for as long as Mary has known him, but now he’s dangerously close to crossing a line. He doesn’t want to spoil the mood, though. Because you’re here, everything should be perfect.

Mary shrugs, turning his attention back to his instrument, though all he wants to do is look at you. “Just her style, man.” One of the sound engineers comes up to ask him a question and the tech elbows him a little too hard in the ribs, laughing.

“Bro’s fucking whipped,” he says, now fully neglecting his job. “I thought you were only into goth chicks, Goore. What happened? You gonna start dressing like a medieval peasant, too?” Mary’s had just about enough of this guy.

“You got a fucking problem with my girl?” Out of the corner of his eye he sees you watching, brow furrowed with concern. It’s loud enough in the room that you shouldn’t be able to hear the commotion on stage, but he still worries. The last thing he wants is for you to feel self-conscious.

The tech scratches his neck, taken aback by Mary snapping at him. “Nah, dude.” He laughs again, nervously this time. “You know I’m just playing.”

Mary grunts. “Well maybe you get to fucking work instead. We’re on in,” he glances over at the digital clock on the far wall, “ten minutes. Go, before I fucking kick your ass.” The tech scampers off without another word. Mary looks back in your direction, sees you mouth everything okay?, then flashes you a quick thumbs up.

The show goes by in a blur. All Mary wants is to scoop you up in his arms.

You wait for him, long after the regular concertgoers have filed out. A few groupies hang around, no doubt wanting a piece of Mary and/or one of his other bandmates. He has eyes only for you, though, and as soon as he’s free from responsibility he practically flies to where you’re leaning against the stage, enveloping you with his lanky body. He kisses you hard, his tongue delving into your sweet mouth before pulling away and taking a good look at you. From this angle he can see right down your loose, puffy shirt. Instead of acting out, though, he gives you another quick kiss.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he says, cradling your cheek with callused fingers. It’s adorable that, even after all this time, you still get flustered when he calls you that. “Glad you could make it.”

“Sorry I didn’t get the chance to change,” you murmur, looking away. “A bunch of middle-schoolers made a mess of the reading room, and-“ He quiets you with another kiss, delighting in how you melt against him. People are staring, but Mary couldn’t care less. You make such a pretty pair, it’s only natural that they’d be jealous.

“You look beautiful, baby.” He pulls you in closer so that you can feel his hard-on against your thigh. “But if it’s any consolation, you’ll be out of these clothes soon enough.”

[the-apocrypha]

Hello!

I've had a brain worm about your cottagecore verse stuck in my head for a month now, so I'm finally sharing it.

The mob that stormed Hob's cottage in Eskham didn't come out of nowhere. Someone has been spreading rumours about a dangerous creature in the hedgewitch's cabin for some time. Someone who doesn't particularly like their older brother. Desire knew that they would have to stoke the tension in the village carefully, so that when the villagers' fear got the better of them, Dream would not be there to save Hob. They knew very well that even armed with torches and iron, a mob of peasants wouldn't stand a chance against a fae prince. That didn't matter though - Desire didn't need the mortals to hurt their brother directly; he just needed to be taught a lesson about taking human lovers. Getting banished from the realm of the fae just wasn't enough. 

What Desire didn't expect was to be on the recieving end of a similar fate as their brother - turns out that Mother Night does not approve of her children taking human consorts, even if that child might excel at cruel games and bargains. Long story short, when Desire falls in love with a travelling sorceress named Unity, they are yeeted out from their mother's court much like Dream was.

I think it would be funny if Desire ended up getting tossed into Hob's garden while Dream is away doing fae things™️ in the forest. At first Hob panics (understandably, they aren't really expecting visitors in the middle of nowhere), but once he recognises that the being currently squishing his strawberries is another fae, he brings them inside (does he hope that seeing another of his kind might make Dream happy? Maybe. Think of it as enrichment for your lover). Needless to say, Dream isn't exactly thrilled to see his sibling, especially when they let slip that they're rather surprised to find them both alive and (relatively) well. Oopsie, your sibling might have had something to do with your recent troubles, Dream (who would have thought).

I'm hoping for some sort of reconciliation and some reflection from Desire? Maybe being shunned by their kind might help them reconnect. After all, Desire's gonna need all the help they can get if they are to find their beloved out there...

OMG I love this so much, thank you for sharing this glorious brain worm! I love the idea that Desire is out in the mortal realm doing market research for plotting his brother’s downfall and in the process meets Unity and—I’m imagining it wasn’t quite so Love At First Sight, because sorceress!Unity definitely knows better than to tangle with the fae and wants nothing to do with any of Desire’s shit. (Desire’s always liked a challenge.) But eventually, somehow, despite both of their better judgements, the love does happen. 

Also love the idea of Desire getting dumped into the (Dream’s! Special!) strawberry patch—they’re probably not looking too hot, ala Dream when he was first exiled. Hob absolutely takes them into the house as soon as he sees the ears. He’s learned to be wary of his fellow mortals but he’s still a sucker for fae, especially ones who bear a familial resemblance to his lover, and especially ones who are all alone 😩 and hurt 😩. (Dream obviously is unimpressed with all of this, but Hob is at this point well-practiced in tuning out Dream’s Are You Trying To Get Yourself Killed, I Don’t Care That You Survived Thirty-Three Years Without Me, You Won’t Be Surviving The Next Five Minutes If You Don’t Start Apologizing, You Useless Fragile Mortal Tirade).

Also! The idea of Dream and Desire hissing faeish insults at each other over the dinner table while Hob is desperately trying to steer the conversation back to English—hysterical. Dream getting possessive of Hob when Desire looks at him a few seconds too long, and Desire being like “I absolutely do not want your grubby little bear-man, Dream, calm your tits. Unlike you, I have standards.”—excellent. I love it all. 

(Though let’s be real, in this particular AU the moment Dream finds out Desire was the reason that Hob got shishkebabed, this goes from a family feud to attempted murder real quick. IDK if Dream would get over that for… at least a few decades. Desire would be turfed out of the house so fast their head would spin. Their only saving grace might be if Hob suggests that the faster they find Unity, the faster Desire will be out of their hair.) 

I’ll be honest, the possibilities for fae!Dream + siblings are limitless and wonderful, and I’m constantly sad that the cottagecore ‘verse ended up constructed in a way that means—without some very exceptional circumstances, as you have crafted here—we won’t ever really see Dream interacting with his family ever again. At least, not in the official version. Please feel free to tell me all about the elaborate ways in which fae!Dream and Desire get forced into a metaphorical Get Along Shirt, or Death dropping by with little fae care packages with all the stuff Dream misses from his home, or Delirium going on forest walks with Dream and asking him ten million questions about all the strange mortal animals and plants. Dream deserves better relationships with his siblings than what I dealt him in this ‘verse. <3

[dragonnan]

Friday Fic Recs

The Sandman - Dreamling

The Undone and the Divine E by @dancinbutterfly

Warnings: Consensual Violence, Burning, Stabbing, Skin picking, Drowning, The Corinthian is His Own Warning, Cannibalism, Horror, Suicidal ideation, Mutilation, romanticization of violence, Dissociation, BDSM elements

For 24 hours, John Dee influences the entire world with the Dreamstone to make what he thinks is a more honest world.

At the New Inn, Hob finds himself uniquely positioned to save his fellow patrons from the dangers they now pose to themselves and each other.

Why not? After all, what's the worst that could happen?

And how can he do anything else?

Read Me Your Longing M by @linzod

The Stranger hesitates, and does something Hob would not have believed possible. He stammers. “I- I do not remember. I came to and was being pursued.”

Hob notices the older man approaching, but is shocked as his voice rings out, addressing them both, “My dear boy, I am so glad we have found you.” He observes the situation warily; the only reaction from his friend is subtle, the smallest recoil.

“Who exactly are you?” Hob asks the man.

“Why, I’m Paul McGuire, and I can’t thank you enough,” the man looks at Hob’s ID badge, “Dr. Gadling, for finding my nephew.”

Hob’s eyes narrow, as he flatly asks, “Your nephew?”

***

Hob’s life is forever changed when his Stranger literally stumbles back into his life, amnestic and hunted, and he must use the skills gathered over an immortal life to evade their pursuers. They soon realize that bits of memory are coming back to Hob’s Stranger, through the power of literature. They are slower, however, to recognize that the most important story to explore may be their own.

A love letter to books, libraries, and the stories that make us, and allow us to change for the better.

Part of the Centennial Husbands Big Bang! Work Complete, Includes Art!

to keep our metaphysics warm by ineverfeltyoung G

“Where on Earth did you learn to make pizza?” Death asks around a mouthful. Hob hasn’t even finished serving himself yet and she’s already dug in. Dream is certain that etiquette would denote this rude behavior, but Hob doesn’t seem to mind, only giving her a disbelieving look.

“I’m immortal,” he says blandly. “Italy. Where else?”

Death comes to dinner. Dream does the dishes. Hob cries a little bit.

Series: Part 2 of the abstract entities dinner club

Cottagecore series by @the-apocrypha

Warnings: vary by story

The love story of a fae prince and a hedgewitch in the middle ages. <3

The Measure Of A Soul E by @vlakas-ex-machina @blueberrymffn

When Hob Gadling made a drunken deal with a mysterious man in a pub, he didn’t expect anything to come of it. Waking up the following morning with a golden mark on his wrist was a shock, though less than finding out that he couldn’t die. Who had he made a deal with, and what did he want? His Stranger was far from forthcoming, so he’d have to figure it out himself. That his mark was not just a passkey to an underworld of supernatural beings but the sign that he wasn’t meant to spend eternity alone was enough to send him down paths he never knew existed and ask more questions than were answered. Who, or more importantly what was his Stranger, and did the mysterious man know who Hob was destined for?

(An AU where only immortals have soulmarks that mark their species/type as well as their partner, and Hob has something no one has seen before)

who wants to live forever? M by ranchdiip

“An Endless?” Hob asks, softly, because it feels like a question that needs to be soft.

“That’s what we are,” Death responds, trying again for a small smile. “Me and D—”

“Don’t,” Hob interrupts, far stronger than he meant to, and Death looks surprised for as long as it takes him to get out, “Don’t, please. I-I want to hear it from him.”

Sympathy colors Death’s gaze even as Hob feels his face burn. Six hundred years, Hob thinks—he’ll be damned if he finds out his Stranger’s name from anyone but the odd man himself.

—

It's 1989 and Hob Gadling thinks he's been stood up. Death herself is kind enough to inform him otherwise—and, well, now Hob's got to bloody do something about it, doesn't he?

it doesn't matter which you heard (the holy or the broken hallelujah) T by @meadowziplines for Thranduilland

Warnings: Kidnapping, Torture, occultism, Blood and Violence, Blood and Injury, Whump, Broken Bones, dislocations, magical torture, Physical Torture, Delirium, Confusion, Memory Issues, Identity Issues

Roderick Burgess kidnaps Hob Gadling on June 7, 1989, intending to break both him and Dream. Instead, Dream being rather aggressively tortured triggers the knowledge of Hob's identity as Hope of the Endless, wrapped away in a mental box as they had been.

[silvermarig0lds]

LEVIHAN NATION it’s been a long time coming but I have something for yall… (no new art sorry) this is a headcanon that has made itself comfortable in my mind for quite some time now. WARNING VERY CHEESY AND MUSHY

Imagine, post-rumbling, Hange survives and fulfills her cottagecore dreams with Levi, but she frequently gets called to go on business trips to Marley and Azumabito and even other parts of the world to facilitate peace talks. Despite Hange’s incessant requests and their mutual separation anxiety, which developed as a consequence of what happened the last time they stayed apart from each other for a prolonged period of time (cough zeke cough wine cough forest), Levi chooses to remain at home instead of tagging along due to his mobility issues.

Nonetheless, Levi secretly wishes that he can see the world with Hange, and in spite of his attempt to keep up a facade of nonchalance Hange sees RIGHT THROUGH IT. As such, Hange always makes sure to collect souvenirs, snacks, interesting gadgets, tea packets with flavors that Levi has never seen before. and many different kinds of memorabilia for Levi on her trips, in an effort to let him glimpse into what she has been seeing.

On one particular night after an exhausting trip, Hange surprises Levi with a promise ring. She doesn’t know if Levi ever wants to get married, and she doesn’t wish to pressure him, she says. But this is her way of telling him that she is here to stay. Forever.

Levi tears up, and Hange notices that his hands are shaking. She tenses up, unsure if Levi likes the gift or not. But her worry swiftly vanishes when Levi kisses her, all the while smiling against her lips. Her heart soars in delight as she kisses back.

“You idiot,” Levi mumbles lovingly when they break apart.

“I love you.” She giggles as she replies.

“If you wanted to ask if we can get married, you could have just asked.” Levi teases her, to which she replies in surprise. “You want to…?”

“If it’s with you, yes.” He says, in a matter-of-fact tone. The answer is so simple, and yet. “Because I’m in love with you, Four-Eyes.”

OKAY THIS IS VERY CHEESY IM SORRY ANYWAYS I WOULD KILL FOR A FIC LIKE THIS…I JUST LOVE the idea of Levi getting choked up with emotion as Hange presents him with a ring

[pomeness]

2, 4, 8 and 12 for hiosness

HIONESS HEADCANONS LETSGO

2. Big spoon/little spoon?

I think they would switch, but Hiori def big spoons more!

At the beginning I feel like Ness would big spoon more. He adores to be of service and to "protect"/take care of his partner while they sleep.

Hiori, on the other hand, doesn't mind being held but definitely loves to hold Ness more (can't blame him since he's the most huggable mf in the planet). And Ness has never been properly held like that in his life, so when it happens for the first time he realizes that "oh this feels so fucking nice oh my god" and eventually becomes his preferred position, although he never says it out loud. (except hiori knows. Hiori always knows.)

4. Favourite non-sexual activity?

Def parallel play! They're both more introverted so I imagine they would both prefer to spend their free time at home. Ness usually reads one of his big-ass fantasy books and Hiori sits right beside him and plays his favourite videogames. Sometimes they check on each other, like if Ness sighs Hiori would ask about what's happening in the book, and if Hiori curses Ness stops reading and asks how the in game mission is going.

They would also love to have picnics, but it's because Ness to me is very cottagecore coded. He bakes/cooks heavenly and Hiori loves his cuisine so he doesn't mind to indulge him at all when it comes to go at a park together and touch grass eat there.

8. Nicknames? & if so, how did they originate?

YES Ness absolutely loves pet names and would call Hiori with the german equivalent of darling/honey/sweetheart 24/7, at the point that Hiori knows when something is wrong when Ness calls him by his first name only.

Hiori isn't big on pet names - he would use "alex/lexie" most of the time - but a part of me knows that he would occasionally address Ness as his "good boy"/"puppy".

12. Who initiates kisses?

Ness! He's big on physical touch so he can't stay too long without a peck on the lips.

Hiori is usually the first who deepens the kiss though!

Annnd that's it!!!! Wiii thank you for asking about them! :3

[aruanimess]

Hello! Do you have any random headcanons for Annie, Armin or other AOT characters that you like? Have a lovely day!

Hello, anon! (Sorry for taking my time with answering, I had a lot of thoughts)

Such a lovely question! I do indeed have many headcanons about AruAni and other characters I enjoy. I've shared some modern hcs about Armin and Annie specifically here too, if you wanna check them out.

Since you're giving me the opportunity to share some more though, let's do post-canon hcs instead. I think it'd be a nice change.

Armin cooks, Annie eats.

I know Armin is a busy man, but I'm positive he likes to take a break from his packed schedule to make a treat for his girl. Sure, he's not the best cook ever, but he tries and every dish is created with care and love poured into it. Annie enjoys the attention (and the cooking) quite a lot, too, so it's not like she's planning to stop him any time soon.

Armin's curiosity reaches unprecedented highs.

With the whole world at his disposal (well, what's left of it), Armin is finally free to go wild. He wants to learn it all and learn it all NOW! At first he turns to Annie for trivia regarding the outside world, and it's a sweet moment of bonding for them, sharing information about the world as they get to know more and more of each other as well. Soon, however, Annie is no longer enough. She's a surprisingly patient teacher, but she simply can't keep up with the level of detail Armin wants to go into, and frankly she doesn't care enough. So she urges him to find another tutor.

And Armin doesn't find one. He finds fifty.

Turns out, no one is an expert in everything, and Armin wants to know E V E R Y T H I N G. From exotic animals to foreign policy, to current tech, to theology, he's curious about it all!

Of course, a sane person cannot retain this much information, so what ends up happening is Armin going from one hyper specific interest to the next at an alarming rate. Jean and Connie worry about him initially (surely their friend is finally losing it), but when they eventually confront him about it, he confirms that he just enjoys the ride more so than the actual knowledge. "Most people have learnt bits and pieces while they were growing up," he says, "I have a lot to catch up to, but I'm not beating myself up about remembering it all." Jean and Connie are appeased. As long as he takes care of himself and he's happy, there's nothing else to fret over.

Annie takes up a sport.

Listen, martial arts are well and good, but there's only so much effort you can put in them when you're not in active danger. Annie maintains her training regimen for a while, but without a purpose it turns stale and repetitive. Still, she enjoys the physical activity and the challenge, so she's pretty bummed about it, until someone (probably Pieck) suggests she start playing a sport.

I'm not sure what exactly would fit her best. A solitary sport is more in line with her personality, but perhaps a team sport would help her build relationships and come out of her shell a little. I kinda want to say badminton, but I might be thinking that because I'm partial to it myself.

Mikasa is living her best cottagecore life.

After her return to Paradis, Mikasa would be in mourning, so I think that in order to heal mentally she'd choose to live somewhere relatively secluded. In my opinion, a cottage much like the one she shared with Eren in the paths and the one she lived in with her parents would be preferable to her than living in a city, where everyone would demand her attention.

During her time living alone, she takes up every hands-on hobby imaginable: fishing, hunting, crocheting, knitting, foraging, cooking, making preserves, making yarn (and yes she has sheep in this scenario), chopping wood, whittling etc. She goes to the town every week to sell her creations and buy what she can't make and everyone is in awe of her talent and dedication. It's a great way to keep her mind from drifting to a dark place and, as an added benefit, it's quite the conversation starter, so she ends up forming bonds with her neighbors as well.

[sitp-recs]

Happy happy birthday darling @wolfpants! I’m so excited to be finally doing a reclist with my Wolf faves. I still remember the sense of awe I felt reading the magnificent Hollow (my very first Remus/Draco, so brilliant and poignant it got me immediately sold on the ship and also obsessed with that verse). Whether it’s Drarry or rare pair goodness, Wolf always delivers top notch cottagecore porn romance with gorgeous settings, captivating characters and a perfect mix of angst, fluff and smut, what else could we ask for? I’ve had so much fun selecting my own favorites for this list. The Drarry section might look small but that’s because I wanted to give a massive shoutout to Wolf’s delicious catalogue of rare pair shorts, which seems to be carefully crafted to meet my personal tastes (you’ll find that I got a soft spot for age gap and Ron thirst but I’ve tried to include a bit of everything and there are quite a few treats from Wolf’s stellar Kinkuary23 collection 🔥).

Dear Wolf, thank you for sharing so many great stories with us. We’re so lucky to have you on this fandom! It’s been amazing to follow your work as you evolve as a writer and explore my most beloved characters and tropes in your unique, creative, fun and self-indulgent way. I hope you’ve had a lovely day and ami excited to see what this new year brings you next! 🎉💜

🐺 Drarry:

Edges (E, 1.5k)

Draco explores the limits of Harry's edges. Harry lets him.

The Farther I Fall, I'm Beside You (E, 2.3k)

What happens when you accidentally kill your friend during a birthday prank gone wrong? You ask your Master of Death boyfriend for help, of course. Check out @getawayfox’s gorgeous art here.

The Holly and the Ivy (E, 4.6k)

This year at the Annual Ministry Yule Auction, Magpies Seeker Draco Malfoy's time is up for sale. When Harry places the winning bid, will their contracturally-binding weekend together heal old wounds, or worsen them?

Look For Me In The Sun (M, 9k)

Harry and Draco are on the run in America after a mysterious string of werewolf-like attacks in the Muggle community causes the Ministry to impose new and harsh anti-werewolf legislation. Giant trees, crashing waves, seedy motel rooms, and the long and winding coastal road awaits them, but will they ever be able to go back home?

Under Giant Mountains (E, 33k)

Harry doesn't know where he's going. Everyone else has their life paths figured out; he doesn't even know where his map is. Who'd have thought Draco Malfoy bathing in a Norwegian forest would be the guidepost Harry needed?

Pages of You (E, 101k)

Summer, 1980. Harry is floating between university and becoming a Real Certified Adult. He's not ready. He really isn't. In a desperate attempt to have the Best Last Summer ever, he takes a casual job at his godfather's bookshop in London, starts an illicit pen pal affair with a wordy posh boy that he's catching feelings for, all while dealing with the son of Sirius's business rival, one Draco Malfoy, insufferable know-it-all extraordinaire. Check out @homoaesthetics ‘s fabulous rec post for this fic here.

👖 Rare pairs:

The Classics (E, 1.1k) - Draco/Sirius

Sirius gets more than he bargained for when he heads to bed after a long day and night in Grimmauld Place.

Viridian (E, 1.7k) - Draco/Blaise, implies future Harry/Draco/Blaise

There’s just something about Draco. Blaise can’t quite put his finger on it, but it’s—an impulse. To poke, to prod, to pick his delicate wings off. To teach him some humility.

Love is a Verb (E, 1.7k) - Harry/Teddy

These days, Teddy loves and hates being alone with Harry. He craves it, and he dreads it, and he thinks Harry’s starting to notice. He wants him to notice.

Hymn to Apollo (E, 2k) - Teddy/Scorpius

It's the night of Harry and Draco's wedding, and Teddy learns Scorpius has an enormous crush on him.

Seat You Higher than the Stars (E, 2k) - Rarry

When Harry tells Ron he's ready to reveal their relationship to their friends, he lets out another confession: that he wants to be completely vulnerable in bed.

Yours & Mine (E, 2.3k) - Dron

Just another Sunday lunch at The Burrow. Featuring French dessert, fond Molly Weasley, flirty Drarry, and Ron's incredulousness.

Like A Brother Would (E, 5k) - Rarry

Ron wants to tell him, again, that he’s not focused, that he’s not planning this whole thing through properly, that he keeps missing things. That they need more structure, that he wouldn’t have lost his temper like he had if only they had the safety of a strategy.

A Bigger Splash (E, 7k) - Dralbus

It's his dad's 45th birthday in rural Sicily, and all Albus wants is to be seen by Draco Malfoy.

The Hollow (E, 12k) - Remus/Draco

They both drink, and Remus wonders how much longer he can stay here. His eyes are already moving around slowly, looking for an escape. Anything to get away from the eerily familiar slope of Draco’s cheekbones, from the richness of the voice that sounds so much like the ghost inside his own head.

Trillium (E, 13k) - Dronarry

Harry and Draco are shagging. Ron’s got a hunch, and the only way to find out is to volunteer his services alongside Harry’s in the Big Malfoy Manor Cleanup of 2010. What could possibly go wrong?

Precious Metal (E, 28k) - Dronarry

Precious metal awaits in an abandoned, cursed cottage on the Isle of Jura. Ron’s illegal hunting ring is on it, but disaster strikes when he runs into a jumpy and suspicious Draco Malfoy, camped out where the treasure is hidden. What happens when they accidentally unleash a bond curse when both of them harbour feelings for the same man?

Tiny Home (E, 30k) - Dronarry

Harry and Ron left the Aurors years ago to travel the world and make up for lost time. When they finally decide to settle roots back in England, together, building a tiny home in the Lake District by hand seems like the perfect plan. What they don't realise is that Draco Malfoy already lives on the plot of land that they choose to build on. Check out @slytherco’s scorching art for this fic here.