Rec: SPN fic + art
Title: Love or spite or a ten dollar bet
Author: glovered
Artist: lightthesparks
Pairing: Sam/Dean (plus a little Sam/Lucifer, but nothing huge)
Rating: Mature
Word Count: ~27k
Story Masterpost Link: http://glovered.livejournal.com/67020.html
Art Masterpost link: http://lightthesparks.livejournal.com/82205.html
AO3 Story Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/380667/chapters/621939
Author's summary: Lucifer tries to convince Sam that Dean wants him. Dick is on the rise.
I read this recently, and I just discovered that lightthesparks, who creates the most gorgeous, fun, mind-blowing SPN art, illustrated it, and since that's a pretty amazing one-two punch, I thought I'd put this rec out there.
It's a season 7 fic, and Sammy's badly hallucinating. The story's filled with "hallucifer" (glovered used that term in her comment response to me-I hadn't heard it before and it makes me LOL), and I really love a good Lucifer hallucination, so this story hit the spot. It was also one of the first season 7 fics I'd read, so it'll probably stick with me for awhile. glovered's stuff is all really good (she has a fun Smith/Wesson that lightthesparks illustrated, too: The truncated love story of Smith and Wesson), so I recommend a perusal of her masterlist (LJ / AO3).
So basically, amid all the Leviathan-searching, Lucifer's messing with Sam's head and playing matchmaker. And because he's a bastard, he's pretty sneaky about it. Poor Sammy-I feel bad that I like when he has hallucinations, because the poor guy doesn't deserve to be so messed, but they're fun. Kink: hallucination. Who knew?
[Let's have a little excerpt, shall we?]Long excerpt:
They drive to the coast, twenty minutes of icy roads and car-swaying winds be damned. Their conversation is minimal, made up of stretches and lulls, and when they pull to a stop, it's onto a lonely bluff where cliff meets sky. Dean's door creaks open and he's slamming it shut before Sam has even sat up straight.
Sam crunches through the sparse growth of scrubby plants in the slush while Dean looks down at the water. He shivers as Sam draws closer. His skin is kind of splotchy wherever Sam can see it: the backs of his hands purpled, his cheeks raw. He never did have the same body temperature as Sam, who had sometimes felt so hot in his own skin as a teenager that he would wedge the window open in the middle of a November night, only to have Dean slam it closed some time around five in the morning, clambering over him and grumpy.
Standing in the patches of snow and sandstone crumbled on this cliff, it's like they are the only two people who exist. For miles, at least, it's probably true. Sam watches Dean watch the water.
"You okay?" Sam finally asks.
"Me? Yeah, totally." Dean kicks a chunk of snow and it flips off the edge and is gone without so much as a distant splash. "Man, that's a long way down."
Sam grabs the back of his jacket, with a sudden and irrational fear. "Don't!"
Dean looks at him like he's crazy. Fair point, but still.
"Just," Sam says. "Just don't get so close to the edge."
Dean rolls his eyes, but he takes two giant steps back anyway. "You know, I always wondered if there were mermaids."
"Well, there are Leviathans," Sam points out. "Biblical whales that could eat the world. So I don't see why there can't be man-eating sea women, too."
"Must you always crush my dreams?"
Sam laughs and when he looks back at Dean, who is legitimately trembling now, he says, "C'mere."
"What?"
Sam keeps his hand stretched out, his left shoved into his pocket. "You're freezing cold, dude. Get over here."
He grabs Dean's hand, half-forcefully. The joking turns serious, though, and he curls their fingers together. "Your skin is like ice."
Dean shivers again and just looks at him. There's something naked there and Sam makes to draw back, drop Dean's hand, because it's suddenly clear that Dean knows. As in really knows, not just suspects or is brushing it off. It's clear as day, don't ask him how, but it makes Sam's heart jump into his throat. He takes a step away, but Dean follows, a step for a step.
"Don't," Sam stutters out. "You said you wouldn't get closer to the edge."
It feels like a dream, if a dream means hard sea wind whipping his hair all over and stinging the tips of his ears. Dreams have always meant Dean cradling his face, which is what happens next. He tugs Sam down so that their noses are brushing, and then it's a kiss. Sam gasps and dips into it.
Dean's lips are cold, like the rest of him. Sam's head swims when he pulls away. Dean won't let him go far. Sam laughs nervously and considers running his thumb over Dean's bottom lip, thinking blearily how his mouth was just there, how this is real. He's not going complain about anything again, ever, for the rest of his life.
Dean looks blurry and smug so close up and when he tugs Sam more firmly so Sam stumbles against him, he says, "Sammy," kind of coyly.
"Um," Sam says. "I know this is not what I should be thinking about, but you are seriously cold. Are you-"
Actually, it doesn't sit right with him at all. He searches Dean's face, his steady gaze. Something is wrong.
"Sam!" he hears, but it's at the edge of his awareness, a mile away. He tips his head to listen but then drowns again when Dean says, "Hey, I'm right here." and drags him gently in for another kiss, with a chilly hand at the back of Sam's neck to hold him close in the wind.
"Sam!"
And then it's like the warehouse all over again, except this time around it's daylight, and Sam's half-hard in his jeans and abruptly about to tip over into the waves that are crashing against rocks five hundred feet below.
Sam sits down, ass hitting the dirt, snow soaking through the pockets of his jeans and turning the dirt into mud. Dean's still standing above him, smiling and sucking on his bottom lip as he watches Sam fumble backward. His expression is malicious and Sam doesn't trust him. Gravel and snow bite into Sam's hands and his shoulder blades knock the grill of the car, which, when he looks behind him, he finds doesn't belong to the Impala at all.
lightthesparks' art for this story is all in pictographs, so it's super-fun. When she does art sets, from what I've seen she always includes posters and icons, and sometimes banners and other things, and she doesn't mind people using them (with credit).
Here are a few icons from some of the other stuff she's illustrated:
[Art excerpt! ]
Links go to art posts, art posts link to stories:
The truncated love story of Smith and Wesson by glovered
General SPN icons
(How much do I love a fandom wherein the phrase, "erotically codependent" is canon?)
More general SPN icons (season 6)
The Book of Winchester by Selecasharp
Planet Terror / Robert Rodriguez / Tarantino inspired
Semper Fi - Brothers in Arms by storyspinner70
So, go read glovered's stuff and go check out lightthesparks' art. Excellent way to spend a day or five!
Author: glovered
Artist: lightthesparks
Pairing: Sam/Dean (plus a little Sam/Lucifer, but nothing huge)
Rating: Mature
Word Count: ~27k
Story Masterpost Link: http://glovered.livejournal.com/67020.html
Art Masterpost link: http://lightthesparks.livejournal.com/82205.html
AO3 Story Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/380667/chapters/621939
Author's summary: Lucifer tries to convince Sam that Dean wants him. Dick is on the rise.
I read this recently, and I just discovered that lightthesparks, who creates the most gorgeous, fun, mind-blowing SPN art, illustrated it, and since that's a pretty amazing one-two punch, I thought I'd put this rec out there.
It's a season 7 fic, and Sammy's badly hallucinating. The story's filled with "hallucifer" (glovered used that term in her comment response to me-I hadn't heard it before and it makes me LOL), and I really love a good Lucifer hallucination, so this story hit the spot. It was also one of the first season 7 fics I'd read, so it'll probably stick with me for awhile. glovered's stuff is all really good (she has a fun Smith/Wesson that lightthesparks illustrated, too: The truncated love story of Smith and Wesson), so I recommend a perusal of her masterlist (LJ / AO3).
So basically, amid all the Leviathan-searching, Lucifer's messing with Sam's head and playing matchmaker. And because he's a bastard, he's pretty sneaky about it. Poor Sammy-I feel bad that I like when he has hallucinations, because the poor guy doesn't deserve to be so messed, but they're fun. Kink: hallucination. Who knew?
[Let's have a little excerpt, shall we?]Long excerpt:
They drive to the coast, twenty minutes of icy roads and car-swaying winds be damned. Their conversation is minimal, made up of stretches and lulls, and when they pull to a stop, it's onto a lonely bluff where cliff meets sky. Dean's door creaks open and he's slamming it shut before Sam has even sat up straight.
Sam crunches through the sparse growth of scrubby plants in the slush while Dean looks down at the water. He shivers as Sam draws closer. His skin is kind of splotchy wherever Sam can see it: the backs of his hands purpled, his cheeks raw. He never did have the same body temperature as Sam, who had sometimes felt so hot in his own skin as a teenager that he would wedge the window open in the middle of a November night, only to have Dean slam it closed some time around five in the morning, clambering over him and grumpy.
Standing in the patches of snow and sandstone crumbled on this cliff, it's like they are the only two people who exist. For miles, at least, it's probably true. Sam watches Dean watch the water.
"You okay?" Sam finally asks.
"Me? Yeah, totally." Dean kicks a chunk of snow and it flips off the edge and is gone without so much as a distant splash. "Man, that's a long way down."
Sam grabs the back of his jacket, with a sudden and irrational fear. "Don't!"
Dean looks at him like he's crazy. Fair point, but still.
"Just," Sam says. "Just don't get so close to the edge."
Dean rolls his eyes, but he takes two giant steps back anyway. "You know, I always wondered if there were mermaids."
"Well, there are Leviathans," Sam points out. "Biblical whales that could eat the world. So I don't see why there can't be man-eating sea women, too."
"Must you always crush my dreams?"
Sam laughs and when he looks back at Dean, who is legitimately trembling now, he says, "C'mere."
"What?"
Sam keeps his hand stretched out, his left shoved into his pocket. "You're freezing cold, dude. Get over here."
He grabs Dean's hand, half-forcefully. The joking turns serious, though, and he curls their fingers together. "Your skin is like ice."
Dean shivers again and just looks at him. There's something naked there and Sam makes to draw back, drop Dean's hand, because it's suddenly clear that Dean knows. As in really knows, not just suspects or is brushing it off. It's clear as day, don't ask him how, but it makes Sam's heart jump into his throat. He takes a step away, but Dean follows, a step for a step.
"Don't," Sam stutters out. "You said you wouldn't get closer to the edge."
It feels like a dream, if a dream means hard sea wind whipping his hair all over and stinging the tips of his ears. Dreams have always meant Dean cradling his face, which is what happens next. He tugs Sam down so that their noses are brushing, and then it's a kiss. Sam gasps and dips into it.
Dean's lips are cold, like the rest of him. Sam's head swims when he pulls away. Dean won't let him go far. Sam laughs nervously and considers running his thumb over Dean's bottom lip, thinking blearily how his mouth was just there, how this is real. He's not going complain about anything again, ever, for the rest of his life.
Dean looks blurry and smug so close up and when he tugs Sam more firmly so Sam stumbles against him, he says, "Sammy," kind of coyly.
"Um," Sam says. "I know this is not what I should be thinking about, but you are seriously cold. Are you-"
Actually, it doesn't sit right with him at all. He searches Dean's face, his steady gaze. Something is wrong.
"Sam!" he hears, but it's at the edge of his awareness, a mile away. He tips his head to listen but then drowns again when Dean says, "Hey, I'm right here." and drags him gently in for another kiss, with a chilly hand at the back of Sam's neck to hold him close in the wind.
"Sam!"
And then it's like the warehouse all over again, except this time around it's daylight, and Sam's half-hard in his jeans and abruptly about to tip over into the waves that are crashing against rocks five hundred feet below.
Sam sits down, ass hitting the dirt, snow soaking through the pockets of his jeans and turning the dirt into mud. Dean's still standing above him, smiling and sucking on his bottom lip as he watches Sam fumble backward. His expression is malicious and Sam doesn't trust him. Gravel and snow bite into Sam's hands and his shoulder blades knock the grill of the car, which, when he looks behind him, he finds doesn't belong to the Impala at all.
lightthesparks' art for this story is all in pictographs, so it's super-fun. When she does art sets, from what I've seen she always includes posters and icons, and sometimes banners and other things, and she doesn't mind people using them (with credit).
Here are a few icons from some of the other stuff she's illustrated:
[Art excerpt! ]
Links go to art posts, art posts link to stories:
The truncated love story of Smith and Wesson by glovered
General SPN icons
(How much do I love a fandom wherein the phrase, "erotically codependent" is canon?)
More general SPN icons (season 6)
The Book of Winchester by Selecasharp
Planet Terror / Robert Rodriguez / Tarantino inspired
Semper Fi - Brothers in Arms by storyspinner70
So, go read glovered's stuff and go check out lightthesparks' art. Excellent way to spend a day or five!