#instead I just draw other characters as vampires

[blareviridi]

Well, I died

Anyway

I'll draw my ocs next time, probably (NOT).

[beefjumper]

Life Series but beefburgered

Hello my tumblr 👋 I'm not dead, I've just been fandom jumping then felt the urge to make somewhat of a reference sheet for the lifers for future use. Yap session about the designs below:

Grian: Very standard Grian. You can smell the Cherrifire influence in this one. I imagine the turtleneck being wide enough to hide his mouth behind as he stares menacingly into the distance. His eyebrows are practically fused with his eyes but it's probably best not to think about it too much. I have considered placing a literal waffle on the back of his head but it might be tedious to draw continuously.

Scar: Everytime I draw Scar he looks weird. It might be because I'm not too good with longer faces, but that's how I'd imagine the character looks like. I think I'll switch up this design a lot as his eyes and hair bug me sometimes. Maybe experiment with the scars too. Artists make him look really cool as an explosion victim.

Mumbo: The slicked back hair looks right. Extra strand sticking out to make him look a bit disheveled. I wonder if I should commit to making him look more goth/vampire-like. He gets a tiny mullet because it fits.

Jimmy: Wanted to make him look a bit bird-like so I tried to express that with the back of his head. I hope he looks pathetic enough.

Joel: Fairly shrek-like. I wanted to make him look grumpy so he has a shorter and broader build. Also decided that one green hair streak wasn't enough for my satisfaction. His brown coat has a honeycomb pattern, but that's not too obvious. Also, he is shorter than Lizzie.

Scott: Pretty sparkly guy. I wanted him to look quite friendly. He actually has thick eyelashes here instead of eyeshadow but I'm not against that idea either. Kind of miss his Last Life skin.

Impulse: I don't watch Impulse too much so this design was based on some common interpretations of him. The horns are a cute idea.

Skizz: Very standard Skizzleman design. The ripped sleeves and the arms are probably my favorite thing. Maybe I should add more hair on the arms.

Tango: People tend to draw him really different, so I took aspects from designs I liked and put it here. Both his sclera and shades ended up being red, but I thought the sclera was iconic and the design looks more interesting with shades on. I'm not sure if I'd prefer for Tango's hair to literally be made out of fire. I tried making it resemble fire instead.

Etho: Attempted to make him a contender for Top 10 Hottest Anime Men. I'm always interested to see how people work around his definitely unrecognizable Minecraft skin (sarcastic). Like other designs, I think I'll add a maple leaf on his clothes or something.

Bdubs: He looks more terrifying than I intended but that might be the point. Might change his hairstyle here. I'd like to draw his white-haired skin at some point.

Cleo: Very standard ZombieCleo design. The hair was based on their VTuber but I decided to use the clothes from their Minecraft skin. The stitches are the fun part. I might make her hair curlier.

Martyn: Very standard InTheLittleWood design. You can smell the Cherrifire influence in this one ×2. The little beard is a wonderful addition I think.

Ren: Picking between black or cyan shades was tough. He also gets an obligatory ponytail because uhm. Tail. Dog. Get it? I also took a good while figuring out how I should go about his ears. I wasn't satisfied with human ears but I needed the shades to fit somehow. You can smell the Cherrifire influence in this one ×3

Lizzie: Yes, I have watched Empires S1 and S2 and it shows. Whoever first decided to give Lizzie cat-like buns should be given an award. I like the idea of heart-shaped buns too so maybe I'll alternate on that.

BigB: Very standard Bigbst4tz2 design. Don't let his friendly interaction with Lizzie fool you but he tends to stare into your soul for uncomfortably long periods of time. The highlights in his eyes come and go.

Gem: Very standard GeminiTay design. She probably has my favorite skin among this batch. I heard there was a shortage of elf Gem (there isn't) and I have decided to contribute to that (because there's no such thing as too many elf Gems).

Pearl: Inside Pearl are two wolves and I decided to draw the one that's sopping wet. Her hair has a few crescent-shaped curls. I'm definitely looking forward to drawing her more intimidating side sometime.

Overall I was hoping to make the designs simple and mostly accurate to skins/pfps. Nothing too special, other than a few pointy ears I sprinkled around here and there. I might add more to the designs the more I draw them.

[rozeliyawashereyall]

Headcanons, headcanons and more headcanons but with drawings this time.

✵One common headcanon I always think of is that literally every character ever had fucked up trying to cut their hair by themselves, it's a fun pattern /lh

✵Fucking bet you Tethys used to bully Zef

✵ Timmy and Marco would love musicals actually

✵Explained it before- but in human form; I really feel like the merfolk in human form are still stronger and faster then the average human, Zef would be too but he's still getting used to the surface lmao ✵The fish bois most likely don't understand what hair dye is

"I'm dying my hair blonde tomorrow-"

"..you're killing your hair??"

✵Sera would either tolerate or HATEEEEE slasher movies omfg. Zef doesn't like the little mermaid movie solely because of that one mom dying scene.

✵I feel like Soheil wears reading glasses..it's just a vibe

✵do you think there's video games on the ship in the rebel series, cuz I feel like Naveed would DESTROY others at Mario kart He has daily competitions with Soheil, Torvin occasionally joins and destroys both of them at it

✵Nathan also seems like he rocks at video games, specifically the horror ones. Put him in Slenderman and he's getting out of there with all 7 papers within 20 minutes if not less

✵if Zef finds something shiny he'll immediately bring it to Sera, on some occasions he *purposefully* looks for shiny objects for him

✵He also has an ongoing mission to try and sneak up on Sera, but Sera always knows. Zef refuses to give up.

✵Guys you're really gonna need to hear me out on this one. Ray reads romance novels in his free time for fun. OH ESPECIALLY THE SAME WITH SKY- He wants to know what love feels like and what better way to learn than to read.

✵Ray had those little Beyblades back in middle school. Hell he probably STILL has them actually, just for the memories. Also it's a really cool trinket

✵Mercury has a subtle limp I feel ? From getting hurt all the time—well, not ALL the time, but enough times.

✵Zef has a VERY specific and picky music taste but the problem is you can barely figure it out because it changes like, every few days or so.

✵I feel like Konrad and Sky tend to dissociate a lot ? Just daydreaming and all

✵I'm going to need everyone to hear me out on both Zef and Sera liking photography. Clemmy shows them how to take photos on their phone and it’s all over—like HOW did you take 378 pictures in the span of an hour.

Then hits the realisation that humans live for like, a third of what merfolk live up to so Zef and Sera start hanging little photos of them and Clemmy they took in the cave where they'd meet up as a forever memory.

✵Not an HC and more of a theory- but hear me out, what are the chances Sky DOES turn back into a human somehow?? Smt smt the long line of dark magic that turned the elves into vampires clashes with the holy immunity and reverses him back....But also a negative and a positive make a negative—so instead of reversing him back it could either turn that ginger into god or kill him.

✵Zef thinks jumping out of the water to startle people is the funniest thing ever.

✵Zef, Nathan, Konrad, Sky, AND Ray stim. I rest my case.

✵If Timmy hears a new word, he has to repeat it at least three times.

✵actual crossover shit—Uno night would go CRAZY with all of them. For Ray's safety and sanity he doesn't join- "no I'm not playing Uno with a vampire, a zombie, an enhanced spy and a fucking mermaid. Get me OUT of here." And you know what I don't blame him—If someone said I have to play go fish with a werewolf I'd leave right then and there....Imagine playing go fish with merfolk though- I'd do it just for the jokes i fear.

✵Do not let any of these men anywhere near horror games actually, something is getting broken and it's probably the monitor.

✵ Timmy is the resident "baby" of this AU, and Ray is the extremely unwilling babysitter.

✵it's okay though he acquires Bodie as a father figure /hj

That's all yipppeee

[knight-a3]

Heavenbound AU

Hazbin Masterpost

Lilith, Mother of Demons

Notes under cut, including some Bible info!

Between dolls, snakes, apples, circuses, ducks, etc, there were just too many motifs/thematic elements to shove onto just Lucifer. So, I streamlined and distributed. Lucifer is goat themed, Lilith is snake themed. Charlie is a mix of the two. I also use this to partly to imply that "the Devil" is not solely Lucifer. But humans mistake various different demons as one character. Lucifer is just the one who gets blamed for everything. That's part of why he's a goat; he's a scapegoat.

Snakes- there is a trending theme of Lilith being associated with snakes, and sometimes being the serpent who tempts Eve. I wanted to give her snake hair, but making all of it snakes would be too many and a hassle to draw. So I went with seven to represent the 7 deadly sins. They're all named, just like how Charlie has Hugh.

Pride= Vani (vanity)

Wrath= Irene (Ire)

Gluttony= Tony (gluttony)

Greed= Ava (avarice)

Lust= Libby (libido)

Envy= Desi (desire)

Sloth= Lazlo (lazy)

Owls- lilith has sometimes been translated as owl or as night bird. In some Mesopotamian myths, lilith demons fly. Some tablets depict a lilith with talons, horns, and/or wings.

Vampires - This is a design element that I didn't realize was a historically viable association to make until after I made the design. But I figured it would be good to mention anyway. Lilith has been equated with some vampiric elements over the centuries. It comes from a thematic overlap between succubi and early depictions of vampires. So while I may not have had vampires in mind, I think some of the elements naturally bled through(no pun intended).

Dolls- I took this one from canon Lucifer and gave it to Lilith instead. I figured she was created and used like a doll, so it could fit decently enough.

Full demon form: I designed her to be similar to a lamia from Greek mythology. Lamia is the latin equivalent to lilith, and lamia happen to be associated with snakes. I didn't know that until after I designed her normal form, so it's a neat coincidence. Lamia is both a single character and a type of snake-woman creature. Waist up is woman, waist down is snake. Similar to the nagas of hindu lore. More about Lamia in a bit.

--Heavenbound Backstory--

My ideas for her backstory can be found through HERE.

--is Lilith really Biblical? Kind of, but not really--

So, fun fact. Lilith isn't really in the Bible. The word lilith is mentioned once in Isaiah 34:14 in some translations. But translation is a tricky process and subject to the interpretation of the translator. It's an inevitable issue. It's part of why there are so many different versions of the Bible.

The single mention of lilith isn't even used as a name. Lilit/lilitu/other spelling variations are a type of Mesopotamian she-demon. Basically succubi, but then the concept merged with the child-killer Lamatshu. Liliths are often associated with seduction, wet dreams, reproductive problems, and child death. Using the term lilith had a cultural context that we don't really have now. It's like how people today will blame mysterious phenomenon on aliens.

Other Bible translations will use "night creatures", "screech owls", "Lamia" or other similar phrases instead. The context of the verse can change drastically based on what phrasing is used. Most versions(including the most popular ones like the KJV) steer away from "lilith".

--The Other Woman--

Bible: The idea of a woman before Eve is based on rabbinic myths used to explain a perceived discrepancy in the biblical creation story. In one account, it sounds as if man and woman were created together. In another, it sounds as if woman was created after. These myths also accuse Eve of a lot of misconduct, so it seems like a pretty misogynistic take anyway(and I don't use that phrasing lightly). These myths didn't name the woman, as far as I'm aware.

Lilith as the first wife: The oldest known depiction of Lilith as Adam's first wife is from a medieval Jewish story, the "Alphabet of Ben Sira." The author is unknown, and it's widely considered satirical. Lilith is ultimately portrayed as the evil one.

In some depictions of her, she forces herself on Adam and has his demon children. Or she is infertile and steals and/or kills babies. Or she causes miscarriages and fertility issues.

Samael's wife: In some other depictions, she and Samael are born as one. Sometimes as a hermaphrodite, sometimes in the same manner as Adam and Eve. And yet other depictions, she is the first wife of Samael. Sometimes God castrates Samael to prevent them from having demonic children, so Lilith goes to copulate with unaware sleeping men. Other times Lilith is rendered infertile. Sometimes she's the wife of Asmodeus.

Lamia: In the Latin Vulgate, lilith is translated as lamia. There are elements of early ideas for vampirism. Then Lilith is equated with the Greek character Lamia, who also has conflicting origin stories. Lamia has a human upper half and and snake lower half. In some sources, she is a daughter of Hecate. In another, she is cursed by Hecate to have stillborn children. In another, Hera killed all of Lamia's children, and Lamia's grief turned her into a monster that would steal and devour children. In some instances she was also cursed to never close her eyes/sleep, but Zeus gifted her the ability to remove her eyes instead.

Islam: Arabic folklore depicts a character similar to Lilith. She was rejected by Adam, so she mated with Iblis(the demon king) instead. She gave birth to thousands of demons.

Feminism: Lilith, overall, was depicted as an evil character until the feminist movement in the 70s. That's when she was depicted by Judith Plaskow as a strong willed woman who refused to submit to Adam(I guess they just ignored the history of rape and child murder, great job picking an inspirational feminist icon y'all). It's this feminist interpretation that Hellaverse seems to have based Lilith off of.

I wanted to balance aspects of these while also still favoring the portrayal of Lilith as not-evil. Unless canon decides to make her evil, then I may revisit the idea.

(Feb 19, 2025- fixed typos and rephrased some lined for clarity) (Feb 20, 2025- added the names of the snakes) (Feb 27, 2025- added a full demon form design and notes about it, reworded some lines)

[heathercollinsmd]

@lyinoptimist On why Louis is a better character with a richer story because of the way they brought race into the show:

[captioned: I agree with his Interview with the Vampire take, and it's not just that I care more that they're black, it's that I care more that they are black in a world where the creators know that they are black and write the story accordingly.

I remember when they cast Jacob Anderson to play Louis in this story a couple years ago and people were confused and nervous and a little bit angry as to why they cast this black man to play a character, who at least in the original story was a plantation owner that owned slaves & let them go I think eventually, but still it's like "what is this choice that you're making?" and the creators were like "no, no we know what we did".

And so now Louis like owns a brothel instead, and it's like Creole and like down in Louisiana 1920s, and you're like, "Oh, that's a pretty solid adaptational choice."

And I think ultimately the decision makes Louis look a lot more relatable, and also makes the story a lot more relatable because at least it would be harder for me to recommend this story if old Louis was the one I was telling you was in this really great show. It's like, "yeah... but he owned slaves...", you know what I mean?

It's just one of the things where it's not something I have to get into with other black fans who are really into like fantasy stuff who maybe don't want to engage in that sort of like problematic content.

Beyond Louis and Claudia being black and then Armand being like South Asian, it also gives us a really interesting look into different readings of the text now that the characters playing it are adapted in this way. This happens a lot in season one remember... like, because Lestat makes both Louis and Claudia he can no longer read their minds, but Louis and Claudia can still read each other's minds. And so in this kind of familial dynamic they've established for themselves, Louis and Claudia have this literal telepathic understanding that Lestat will just never be privy to and you can kind of read into that. It's like a metaphor for their relationship being with two black people in the household and then moving through the world and understanding the world in a way that is just different from Lestat. There's an underlying racial anxiety to Louis and Lestat's relationship that makes it, you know, more complex and like more fun to watch.

Season two there's less of it, but you have things like racialized trauma being used as the backbone for the trauma that the characters are experiencing to both highlight how horrific the things they're going through actually are.

Like Armand and his like, being sexually abused as a child in that specific way very much has the connotation of like, this happened to him because he was a vulnerable brown child and this very powerful white vampire came--presumably, i don't know who they're gonna cast but i was reading into it--came by and did this to him. And it's like, okay yeah, that complicates that dynamic a bit more.

Same thing with the execution that happens to Louis, Claudia, and Madeline at the very end of the season which is very reminiscent of, like-- Claudia even calls it a stoning but I would also argue that there's, like, elements of, like lynching to it, right?

Like, it's very horrific in a very relatable way to Black people, which I think it's drawing upon that but it's not necessarily like glorifying it in that way in order to like make the point that it wants about like, the tragedy that these characters are going through and I think it just makes the story that much richer and allows for a lot more interesting new perspectives because these characters are people of color now and that's what you can do with a good adaptation and like, these creators they understand that. ]

[shirecorn]

Shirecorn's Ponyverse Masterpost

So for the last 2 months I've fixated on doing redesigns based somewhat loosely on My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. I've had so much fun filling in the gaps and extrapolating until my version is less of a redesign and more of an AU.

"Ponies" are three species of sentient hoofed creatures that populate Equestria. They worship giant goddesses that fill the sky and ferry the moon and sun across the world.

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#Shire draws mlp - drawings only. Leaves out the lore

#Skyscraper gods lore - drawings, posts, and asks that expand on the world. Talks about biology, genetics, ritual, society, politics, religion, but mostly creature design and magic.

#Skyscraper Gods - Art, asks, posts, and fanart! Everything to do with both my little pony canon and my version of things. Includes drawings without lore, and lore without drawings. This is the tag to browse to make sure you see it all

Characters

In progress: Discord

○ The Mane Six ○ All Alicorns,

○ Rarity ○ Fluttershy ○ Flutterbat ○ Applejack ○ Pinkie Pie ○ Pinkie Pie Pegasus ○ Rainbow Dash ○ Twilight Sparkle ○ Raritwi ○ Spike

○ Princess Celestia + Princess Luna ○ Princess Cadance + Shining Armor + Flurry Heart ○ Sunset Shimmer ○ Sunburst ○ Apple Bloom + Scootaloo + Sweetie Belle (Cutie Mark Crusaders) ○ Big Macintosh/Ochard Blossom (she is a woman) ○ Granny Smith ○ Mr & Mrs Cake + Pound Cake and Pumpkin Cake ○ Maud Pie + Mudbriar ○ Trixie Lulamoon + Starlight Glimmer ○ Cozy Glow ○ Zephyr Breeze ○ Escape Room Guy + Dusty Pages ○ Berry Punch/Berryshine ○ Vapor Trail ○ Bulk Biceps ○ Tempest Shadow ○ Flim and Flam ○ Queen Chrysalis + Thorax + Ocellus (Changelings) ○ Autumn Blaze (kirin) ○ Rain Shine (kirin leader) ○ Sky Beak (hippogriff) ○ Starcatcher and Skywishes (G3)

Lore

○ The 3 pony species ○ Breeding/genetics ○ The 4 Alicorns stories ○ Gods of non-pony species? Seapony god? ○ Unicorn Horns: Starlight physics, Different shapes, Alicorn horns, Horn colors, ○ Where did Spike come from? (1) (2) ○ Your daughter has won the favor of God (fic) ○ Nightmare moon playlist ○ Cutie marks are cultural not physical: (1) (2) ○ Starlight Glimmer's hometown and her cult ○ Alicorns don't fit inside buildings ○ Discord is a headache to behold ○ Government in the world of gods ○ Gender and matriarchy ○ Scootaloo's flightless disability ○ Equestria Girls Vs Skyscraper Gods, existential horror ○ Pinkie Pie breaks the forth wall because she hopped worlds once ○ Vampire fruit bat ecology and virus ○ How ponies caught it

Meta

○ Using Skyscraper Gods as inspiration (2) ○ Why I like expanding on MLP: its simplicity ○ MLP Creature designs are already good ○ If you don't like my designs ○ I'm just having fun: (1) (2) ○ Mane 6 doodle to finished design ○ After ponies ○ Designing based on birds and animals ○ Starcatcher dove

Shitposts and Doodles

○ My fursona in mlp style ○ Daytime! Nighttime! ○ Baby god ○ Local horse fistfights the sun ○ Shining armor alicorn ○ Sunset shimmer becomes god (2) ○ Poodle rarity ○ Zephyr Breeze thinks RD is a man ○ Season 9 ○ Why is EQ an hour long ○ Being held at gunpoint to watch Equestria Girls ○ World's gayest dash ○ 18 pounds of crake

Fanart by others

○ Fanart tag

Commissions

○ People request a lot and that normal ○ Prices are low because I'm already fixated

Ko-fi requests || Classic commissions

Shirecorn Discord

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○ See WIPs, discussion, the occasional meltdown, and more ○ The content is all done through discord, so if the patreon looks dead it's all just on the server instead.

I hope you enjoy seeing my MLP creations as much as I enjoy making them!

[nebelihood]

Yo ya no les creo nada

I HAVEN'T FINISHED WATCHING THE SEASON- but I wanted to practice sort of s disney style trying to keep the features as practice? didn't work out that much (specially Guillermo- sorry buddie. Better luck next time) I FEEL LIKE I DRAW NANDOR PRETTIER AAHAHA- LIKE instead of masculine as he is, I make him like a disney princess or something L (maybe I'm the only one who sees that) ANYWAY-

SPOILERS AHEAD

arghhh I have no faith in the ship anymore but we'll see. I hate/love the little crumbs they leave cause I'm completely lost as in to what I should believe. I think there are some good signs (Like Nandor mourning Guillermo's absene (although Guillermo literally leaving some steps away from their house), other members of the house (Nadja) acknowledging Guillermo is a soft spot for Nandor, Nandor respecting Guillermo's boundaries. BIG ONE TO ME WAS- how they could have f+cked everything up on the third episode and forced Guillermo into going just they way he was before.THIS REALLY TOOK ME BY SURPRISE. IT WOULDN'T HAVE BOTHERED ME- I WOULD HAVE THOUGHT IT WAS HILARIOUS but definitely would have ruined their relationship big time when Guillermo finally remembered everything in the future. For Nandor a character who is very... egotiscial? Having a person who is somewhat (actually) meaninful to him (even if he has never brought himself to admit it with confidence) a person who has lost respect for him- to actually like him back again- to admire him and compliment him just like the first time they met. I bet the first time they met he couldn't careless for Guillermo's little sad back story and his high regard for vampires and his compliments. I bet he would have shut him off as soon as possible. But now Guillermo is a person he esteems and has grown somewhat interested in him and his well-being. I bet he craves now to be part of his world. But now he esteems him enough to also be respectful (somewha,,,,) to his boundries. And for Nandor- I feel like that's such a big step x'000 (Anyways I'm in the 4th episode so I might be wrong aaaa but these where my thoughts) Besides- what I love about wwdits it's their dumb plot-twist and how they barely take anything too seriously so we'll see.

I have no hope for them anymore. I guess I wouldn't hate it if they ended up as friends or even if their paths got separated. Enough things have happened- maybe they were never meant to be (AAARGHHH oh well)

[mothknight42]

on the guide, writing women in wwdits, and that ending

I firmly believe the Guide is the one of the most wasted, underutilized, and massacred characters in the show, and the series finale only confirms this. So let's talk about why!

The Guide is interesting as a character study in regression; when we first see her, despite being a lackey for the Vampiric Council, she is quite powerful and assertive. She has no issue telling off our main Vamily (insert Colin Robinson smile to camera here) and we see her in S3 repeatedly fixing the messes everyone causes at the Council all while bemoaning her position. Sure, she is a joke to our main vampires at best, and a nuisance at worst, but she does have power and clout and a voice.

Then when S4 roles around, we finally get some legitimate backstory for her. She used to be a "messy" vampire, and her current uptight personality is essentially a dramatic 360 after suppressing all of her raunchiest memories and being forced into eternal servitude. This is interesting! Even more interesting is how she changes in response to learning this about herself - we see her reject Guillermo despite her passion because she isn't that person anymore ..... and become entirely wrapped up in serving Nadja.

While she is technically the butt of the joke for the whole Vamily, she becomes most clearly Nadja's kicked dog. She vies for Nadja's attention, friendship, and approval. We see her constantly trailing Nadja and helping her with the nightclub in various ways. And of course, we see how Nadja derides her, dismisses her, and on occasion, throws her a pathetic bone (such as 'gifting' her the vial box during the Wraith Union episode). By this point, we as the audience KNOW the Guide is quite powerful and capable in her own right; and yet, here she is, nipping at Nadja's heels like a lost puppy and desperately trying to be included.

In many ways, the Guide is set up very directly as a foil for Guillermo, with Nadja as her master (MISTRESS NADJA!!!). Both Guillermo and the Guide are powerful and unique in their own right, both more intelligent than the other vampires in many cases, and yet, both are seeking acceptance from those same vampires who treat them like dirt. It is good writing! And a good way to establish that despite Guillermo's dreams of becoming a vampire, it will not guarantee him the love and acceptance he is seeking from Nandor and the rest.

And then the writers almost completely abandon it. We get very little commiseration between Guillermo and the Guide post her rejection of him, and instead as Guillermo becomes more clearly loved and accepted and PROTECTED by the Vamily, the Guide is shoved in his place as the butt of many "not you" jokes. There is no clear purpose given for this beyond that the writers find it funny; after all, the Guide herself is no longer the uptight pencil pusher we meet her as, so the Vamily's repeated rejection of her just feels like a cheap gag - one that gets less and less funny as time goes on, since the Guide IS often included in Vamily hijinks. Clearly she is ALLOWED to be around them, so the hate directed to her feels forced for a cheap laugh rather than having some legitimate purpose.

And then all of this culminates in Morrigan Manor, right? An excellent episode that shows the Guide's true personality (she is fun! she is clever! she listens to the interests of the Vamily and cares about them!) as well as how hurt she is to be rejected by them (rejected by Nadja specifically - we will come back to that). She doesn't imprison Guillermo and draws a direct connection between the way she is treated and the way they treat him ...... but while Guillermo has spent the season in cahoots with Nadja/Colin/Laszlo, who have hidden his secret to protect him and have proved they care about him, the Guide gets none of that. She gets false closure via a handpicked clip that turns out to be another joke at her expense! And for no good reason! She has now spent three seasons proving she wants to be and can be a good friend to them, that as a vampire she is powerful and useful to them, her personal interests (painting and maintaining archives) are things the other vampires also show interest in ....... and yet!

I've seen arguments that the Vamily are "selective" about their friendships, that friendship is the most meaningful thing for vampires, that the Guide *wanting* to be their friend is why they won't let her, but I'm sorry, no. All of the vampires make plenty of friends, if not with other vampires than with humans throughout the seasons. One of the longest running arcs in the show is that of Sean with Laszlo, and we see how both Nandor and Nadja accommodate that friendship without real question or pushback. Even in Pine Barrens, the problem Nandor has is not that Laszlo likes Sean better, it is that Laszlo has been neglecting Nandor. Nandor just wants to be INCLUDED in guy time; he tries to connect with Sean himself and has no real issue with the guy!

The Guide isn't accepted into the Vamily, despite actively helping them for four seasons, because the writers think it is funnier for her to be the new Guillermo - except without ANY character arc or importance. She is the cheap gag they can trot out whenever necessary, and the series finale really leans hard into that by both making her a parody of a Trump supporter for a quick laugh (a joke that by and large just wasn't funny and felt extremely out of place in the series - even beyond the optics of making that kind of joke, it felt lazy and was only aiming for a shock value laugh) and making her body into a commodity for the Monster to lust over. She is stripped of much of her agency and anger for no real purpose. The only shining moment for her this season, her rejection of Nandor, feels like a breath of fresh air that is immediately forgotten about in favor of making her into the woman who gets shit on and ignored for laughs.

The Guide could have been used for anything. Anything! She is older than some of the Vamily, has a very fun hinted at backstory, has different powers and a disposition to the rest of the main cast - and is played by KRISTEN SCHAAL, a veritable comedy icon at this point. And yet, she is shoved to the background, only brought out into the forefront for a cheap joke at her expense - a joke that stopped being funny seasons ago.

All of which has to do with the show's inability to write women.

Nadja, a main character for god's sake, by the end of the show is turned into a dumb angry woman caricature - her arc, of trying to find her own voice and purpose amidst a household of narcissistic men, is cast aside in favor of cheap jokes about not 'getting' humans, despite spending five previous seasons being shown as extremely competent with humans. Her and Laszlo's strife this season feels like it is solely in service to Laszlo's arc surrounding his desire for creation/fatherhood while doing nothing to further Nadja's own arc of self actualization. (Side note: I know a lot of people disliked them fighting this season and said it came out of nowhere, but that isn't true; as far back as the Bloody Mary episode, we see Laszlo trying to 'protect' Nadja and her being exasperated with him - the problem this season is that it doesn't feel like Nadja gets any real agency in Laszlo's concern for her. Every time she tries to put up a boundary, he steamrolls over it with grand declarations of his love. It sucks!) Post the Nightclub arc, Nadja's character loses steam and she exists solely to further other character's arcs, while her own goals and dreams and plans are abandoned. Dolly's entire existence was about trying to help Nadja find purpose, something Nadja nor the viewers ever get closure on!

The WWDITS writer's room is seemingly allergic to writing women beyond making them jokes or commodities for men. Despite multiple seemingly self aware meta jokes in series about Nadja hating other women because she is a woman, about the men in the house being misogynistic and obnoxious, the writer's over and over entrench these annoying and backwards and LAZY tropes, all while giving characters like Colin Robinson and Laszlo legitimate arcs and serious moments of personhood and reflection that are not immediately cheapened by a joke. Laszlo has not one but TWO seasons dedicated to working through his daddy issues by becoming a father himself, something that in my humble opinion (while not done perfectly) was clearly given some thought and care that we never really see with Nadja post S3.

So it is no surprise that the Guide is just completely wasted, though it is a shame. An easy to write arc would have been exploring a possible attraction between the Guide and Nadja (once again, a fun foil to Guillermo and Nandor!!) especially because it is clear that the Guide does have feelings for Nadja. In the clipshow in Morrigan Manor, despite all of the Vamily being cruel to her, the only clips are of Nadja. The Guide is eager to run away with Nadja (sorry, Sally!) and she spends all of S4 doing Nadja's bidding for seemingly just her approval. (But of course, the show is allergic to portraying anything gay unless it is a joke, and doubly so for anything even remotely sapphic).

Hell, S6 could have been an arc between the Guide and Nadja becoming legitimate friends and working together to help Guillermo at Cannon; after all, the Guide has spent years working in an 'office' like environment, and Nadja has experience with humans. We saw that they worked fine together during the nightclub era - post Morrigan Manor why not show them growing together and finding a purpose outside of the Council and outside of the Vamily, something that both the Guide and Nadja would benefit from as characters? Why not a female comedy duo, since we always get the men paired together for hijinks?

But that would require treating Nadja and the Guide as characters worthy of arcs, which the writers clearly did not want to do. That would require treating women as people with interiority, which the writers clearly do not.

I give so many props to Natasia for working with bare minimum in later seasons, and clearly trying to give Nadja a sense of self and purpose even when the writers were actively working against it. And I give props to Kristen for making the Guide into a fan favorite despite everything the writers did to make her into a nothing burger. It is a shame and tragedy that even in 2024 on a long running comedy show, the idea of women being funny enough to carry their own stories and arcs is clearly still too farfetched to be brought to reality.

[sweetfushi]

YOU AND HIS VAMPIRISM

fluff, suggestive | kento nanami x reader, nanami is a vampire, blood (no blood drinking), tempting him, cutting yourself accidentally, fangs, wound/cut, mentions of pain and stinging | word count. 0.5k

Did you cut yourself accidentally? Perhaps. Maybe there was a part of you that wanted to test Nanami’s resolve, see if he had developed a resistance to your temptations. Either way, the cut hurt, a stinging sensation numbing your index finger.

It’s only a small cut, hardly enough to make you worry. But it was enough to draw Nanami’s attention. He smells your blood flow and feels himself groan, let alone witness the way the crimson trickles down your skin and inflict a tightness in his chest.

You smiled. “Sorry, I’m not helping, am I?”

Nanami lowers his head for a moment, inhaling deeply. Realistically, he’s fine. He’s seen you in worser states. It was your smile that was so tempting this time. Your gaze is so bright yet soft, your smile seductive and beautiful. You were the embodiment of a siren’s song.

He stands and approaches you, licking his fangs. “It’s fine. You’re fine,” he says under his breath, drawing a roll of bandages from the kitchen cabinet. He places it on the counter before soaking a cotton pad in some antiseptic liquid. This he uses to wipe down the blood and your wound.

You hiss. “I can do it myself,” you remind him gently, wincing at the heightened sting of your wound.

Nanami shakes his head. “That doesn’t mean you have to do it yourself. Not while I’m here.”

With that, silence overcomes the both of you as he treats you. As he does, your gaze fixates on him, while his fixates on you. You blush, he smiles.

He wipes your finger dry with a clean cotton pad, before raising your finger to his lips and kissing your wound carefully, his fangs grazing your skin.

Your body feels warm to the touch.

But, he’s quick to remove himself from you and bandage your finger instead of indulge in his desires. Once done, you stare at your finger, then up at him as he loosens the top buttons of his white dress shirt and rolls his sleeves up to his elbows.

“You must be more careful,” he warns, gently ruffling your hair as you purse your lips.

“I was being careful!”

He laughs breathily at your frustrated expression and satiates you with a quick kiss to your lips. “I trust that you were being careful, just not enough.”

You roll your eyes but know he’s only telling the truth. Sometimes you hate how well he knows you.

Nanami washes his hands while you turn back to your chopping board.

“I can do that for you, if you’d like,” he suddenly appears behind you and whispers in your ear.

You yelp and are quick to smack his chest out of sheer fear of the sudden proximity, albeit you’re quick to apologise for doing so. “I told you to stop dashing around like that, Kento!”

“I’m sorry. I should be careful, considering you might cut yourself again.”

You hit his chest again, before a glimpse of his elongated canines has your breath hitching. Nanami notices and comes behind you again to place a hand over your eyes, his cold lips brushing along the length of your neck. He mustn’t give in to his thoughts, he won’t. A kiss is a kiss, not a bite.

“I thought I was tempting you, not the other way round,” you tease breathlessly. Your deep breaths and parted lips amuse him, both signs of your submission to him.

“Try harder and maybe I’ll be the one panting.”

sweetfushi © do not modify, repost, translate, copy or use my post in any way. all that is included in this post, aside from the fictional characters and universes, belong to sweetfushi (zee).

[aylacavebear]

Bloodlines & Fate Chapter 11

Being Touched should have been a blessing—a mark of honor in your lineage, celebrated by your pack since childhood. But to you, it's always made you feel like an outsider, never really fitting in anywhere. Yeah, you had your best friend Jess, but for you, something always felt like it was missing. The land your pack runs on during the full moons brings you a sense of peace you don't fully understand, at first.

Paring: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader/You

Word Count: 9410

Warning: Angst, Fluff, Dean getting memories, Reader taking care of Dean, Longing.

A/N: Professor Robert Zimmerman is based off of The Doctor from Star Trek Voyager, as I absolutely love that character. Alaric Saltzman is from The Vampire Diaries.

A/N: It's my first attempt with an A/B/O fic, be gentle, please. I hope you like it. Not sure how many chapters this will be yet.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 11

The change came like a storm. Bones cracked, muscles twisted, fur rushed over skin. But none of it mattered. None of it was strange. None of it hurt. This was right. This was how things were meant to be.

But… his human was silent. Gone.

For the first time, the wolf was alone in the mind. No arguing, no resistance, no voice controlling what they did. Just the wind in his fur, the earth beneath his paws, the steady rhythm of his own breath. The pack ran with him, their voices lifting in song, echoing through the night.

He should have felt free. Should have reveled in the primal joy of running with his pack, in the unity thrumming through their bond. Instead, there was an ache. Deep and gnawing. A weight pressing against his ribs that had nothing to do with the moon above.

Something was missing. Someone.

The pull was there. Faint, but unbreakable. A thread winding through his ribs, tightening with every step. It tugged at his chest, drawing him away from the others. None followed. They had learned to give Dean his space when he needed it, unaware that Dean was nothing more than a distant hum in the back of the mind. Sleeping.

His paws carried him across the land, through the trees of the forest, the ferns of the underbrush, and the shifting shadows. His focus was elsewhere. Without his human’s doubts clouding his senses, his instincts were sharpened, more demanding than ever. The pull grew stronger, relentless, pulling him away, pulling him toward—

Her.

There was no scent trail to follow. No song to guide him. Nothing tangible to explain why every fiber of his being strained onward. 

Only her.

Finally, he stopped.

A fence loomed just beyond the trees, a divider of two lands, two packs. She was on the other side. Somewhere beyond his reach.

The wolf lingered in the shadows, ears twitching, nose lifting, searching for a scent he knew he wouldn’t find. He walked through the trees, keeping the fence to his right as he explored. The forest was dense, but he followed that thread. The pull to her, wherever she was on the other side.

He knew she was over there. He didn’t feel threatened. No need for aggression or possessiveness. This felt different—like there was no threat he’d lose her to another alpha. 

When he came to a place where the moonlight pierced the canopy, spilling over the earth below, he stopped. Lowered onto his haunches, settling into the shadows of the forest.

The sight before him was both familiar and unknown, beautiful yet unsettling in a way he couldn’t name. A towering, half-rotted tree stump stood more than twenty feet away, remnants of its ancient form stretching high into the night. Around it, tufts of grass, ferns, and delicate flowers blanketed the forest floor, untouched and thriving. But it was more than that. More than the way the earth cradled this place, sheltering it like something sacred.

It was a feeling. 

Like something would happen here. Like something was meant to happen here. He didn’t know why—only that this place was where he was supposed to be.

His paws shifted against the dirt, ears flicking as he breathed deep, but there was no scent other than the forest. No sign that she had ever been here. Still, his instincts whispered that she would come. Someday. Maybe not tonight. Maybe not for many moons. But she would find this place. Find him. And when she did, he would be waiting.

A breeze whispered through the trees, stirring the flowers, making them sway as if they, too, were waiting. The moonlight shifted through the canopy above, casting shadows that stretched and danced before retreating once more. 

His ear twitched at the distant sound of howls. His pack sang, but he wasn’t in the mood. Not tonight. He wanted to be by her side. Let her know she wasn’t alone. That she had him.

But she did not call to him.

She did not come.

The moon dipped lower in the sky, marking the approach of morning. He lowered his head, the weight in his chest twisted, sharp and aching. With one last glance toward the land beyond the fence, he rose to his paws and turned away, making the long trek back to his pack. 

He kept his longing buried deep, hidden from his scent. His pack couldn’t know where he’d gone. It was forbidden, even if that was where she was.

—----------------------------

Dean woke with a start. His heart pounded against his chest, breath coming in short, ragged bursts, sweat cooling on his skin. The remnants of his dream clung to him like fog, thick and disorienting, refusing to let go. For a moment, he wasn’t quite sure where he was. His vision was still blurry and unfocused, the dark room around him unfamiliar, his mind caught somewhere between the past and the present. 

Then, warmth.

The soft press of a body against his. The steady rise and fall of your breath. And your scent—deep, grounding—flooded his senses, wrenching him back to reality before his instincts could take over.

His muscles remained taut, tension coiled in his shoulders, but he forced himself to breathe. Slow. Deep. His wolf stirred uneasily within him, a low, uncertain hum in the back of his mind, but he ignored it, shifting instead, pressing closer to you.

His nose brushed the crown of your head as he inhaled, letting the familiarity of you settle him. It felt easier this morning, the way it soothed him.

“Mmm… you okay, Dean?” you murmured. 

Your voice was thick with sleep, and the lazy way you nuzzled deeper against him made his chest tighten. You didn’t open your eyes, but something felt… off.

He exhaled shakily, his arm tightening around you, his body trembling slightly from his dream. “Yeah. I’m okay,” he breathed, but his voice was hoarse, like the words barely made it out. His muscles still hadn’t fully relaxed. His mind still felt… foggy. 

And his wolf? His wolf felt just as disoriented.

You stirred slightly, blinking up at him, taking him in—the dampness of sweat on his skin, the faint tremor in his limbs, the underlying unrest radiating from him in waves. “Dean, what’s wrong?” you asked softly, your eyes searching his face as if the answer was hidden there somewhere.

He swallowed, averting his gaze. The words caught in his throat, something he wouldn’t—couldn’t—share with anyone. Your expression softened. “Hey,” you coaxed gently, reaching up to cup his cheek, your thumb stroking soothing circles over his skin. “Talk to me.” 

He stayed quiet for a long moment, jaw tight. It all sounded stupid in his head—like a child afraid of a nightmare. He was a grown man. An Alpha. Dreams shouldn’t be affecting him like this. “Just a bad dream,”  he muttered, still not meeting your eyes.

You studied him, searching his face, before letting out a quiet sigh.

“Dean,” you murmured, voice steady but impossibly soft. “When you claim me, I’m gonna need you, and your wolf with what I’m going to go through. Please… let me be here for the two of you.”

Dean grumbled something under his breath that you didn’t quite catch before he buried his nose in the crook of your neck. So, you did the only thing you could do at the moment. You held him close, letting him take whatever time he needed, hoping he would talk to you.

That was when you noticed your claim mark on him. You leaned a little closer, soothing it over with your tongue, sending a shiver through his body. His grip on you firmed, just a little tighter—like if he held on long enough, he wouldn’t have to say the words aloud.

For several long moments, that was how the two of you stayed—him nuzzling into your neck, you soothing his mark with your tongue. You could feel the tension slowly ease from his body, the way it had trembled before finally stopped, and with a slow exhale against your skin, he relaxed.

“It’s stupid,” he mumbled, voice rough against your skin.

You nuzzled your cheek against his as you began purring softly, a different sort of instinct taking over. “If it’s bothering you, it’s not stupid. That makes it important to me,” you told him gently.

Why does she always seem to know just what to say? Even with his wolf tangled in unease, it still huffed in amusement, ‘She’s our mate.’ 

He was still reluctant, but he finally pulled away, resting his head on the pillow as the morning light slowly peeked its way through the window. “It was a dream, but it was like a memory,” he mumbled, his voice quiet, rough—like a child still shaken from a nightmare he couldn’t quite shake.

You had prepared for this. A week before you’d even brought up claiming him, you’d gone to Professor Saltzman, needing answers. He’d explained how important memories would surface in dreams, while everything else would come to Dean while he was awake, slipping into his thoughts like echoes of a life he hadn’t lived—at least, not until now. Then there was the aftercare. 

You needed to make sure he processed the dream, that he didn’t shove it down like something insignificant. He had to feel it. Work through it. Beyond that, there were the physical symptoms—making sure to keep him hydrated and well-fed was the easy part. It was the rarer symptoms you were worried about. There was the possibility that Dean would be too dizzy or light-headed to be able to walk around much. Or that being too far away from you, the source of your scent, could make him anxious or uneasy. And the headaches, which you had a bottle of Excedrine waiting in the bathroom cabinet.

Dean’s voice pulled you from your thoughts as he started recounting the dream, his words slow and measured. Luckily, he added how things felt—not just what he saw, but the way it settled into him, heavy and lingering. His gaze stayed on the ceiling, but his arm never left you, holding you close like he needed the contact to stay grounded. Absentmindedly, he lifted his other hand, rubbing his temple as a dull throb took root behind his eyes.

You felt it—not physically, but in a way that had no real words. It was like sensing a shift in the wind, or the way you could tell rain was coming before it fell. It was just there. 

“Lemme get you something for that,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his cheek before slipping out of bed. Dean watched you go, brow furrowed like he wasn’t even sure what you meant—until you were gone, and the weight in his head became more noticeable.

His focus shifted to the sight of you, the sway of your hips as you disappeared into the bathroom. Catching sight of you in the mirror, his lips parted, tongue swiping over them instinctively as his gaze lingered. Your hair still mussed from sleep, bare skin bathed in the soft lighting from the bathroom, the soft ease in the way you moved.

The way you were just doing things, taking care of him. Dean’s lips quirked into that familiar boyish grin. He hadn’t even told you his head hurt, but now you were pressing two pills with a glass of water into his hands with that sweet, soft smile on your lips.

At least he took them without an argument while you stood by the side of the bed, almost like a mother hen. He was far more distracted by the way you stood there, utterly unbothered by his gaze roaming over you. But then, the heat of his gaze crawled over your skin, sending a flush to your cheeks—a warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the morning sun.

Dean couldn’t help himself. You were beautiful—beyond just the way you looked, beyond anything that words could pin down. You were his. And for the first time in his life, his wolf felt the exact same thing he did, no conflict, no pull in different directions, but together. 

It was good. God, it was good. 

But it was disorienting as hell.

You caught it, even in the faintest flicker—the way his eyelids dipped for a split second, uncontrolled. His eyes glossed over before he blinked hard, trying to push through it, leaning heavier against the headboard. He still didn’t look right, or feel right. 

Then came the small shake of his head, the slight furrow of his brows as if he was trying to clear away a fog he didn’t understand. That was it. That was the sign you’d been watching for. You exhaled a quiet sigh.

“I was worried about that happening,” you told him with a frown, slipping on a shirt, then a pair of shorts. “Stay here. Don’t get out of bed. I’m gonna go make you something to eat.”

And just like that, you were gone.

Dean let his head fall back, eyes shutting against the dull throb behind them. His vision pulsed in and out of focus, the headache settling like a weighted fog. He ran a hand through his hair, wishing he’d read more of the files back at Saltzman’s office. He’d known there would be an adjustment period, but this? This was worse than any hangover he’d ever had.

Then, his wolf whined. 

The sound hit him sharp and sudden—so sudden that for a second, he wasn’t sure if it had been in his head or if it had actually— 

“What’s wrong?” Your voice cut through the haze, laced with something sharp and worried as you hovered in the doorway. And then you were at his side, sitting on the bed, hands skimming over him like you expected to find something wrong. 

Had the sounds actually come out? Dean blinked up at you, brow knitting. “Uh… headache, and I feel a little dizzy, but it’s not so bad now.” He hesitated before adding, “Why?”

You frowned, gaze searching his, but didn’t answer him right away. You hadn’t even been gone long—barely long enough to pull a few things from the fridge—when that whine had hit you. It pierced something in your chest, knotting and twisting at your gut so badly you had gripped your stomach. But looking at him now? He looked okay. 

Still, you weren’t taking any chances. “Let’s get you in at least some boxers,” you said, already moving, finding them among the scattered clothes. “Then I’ll help you get downstairs. If it’s what I think it is, I’ll need to stay close to you.”

Dean’s confusion didn’t fade, and he swore his wolf seemed just as lost. “Care to share?” he asked just as you handed him the fabric.

As he slipped them on, you explained everything Saltzam had told you—about the symptoms, the adjustment period, the way his body and mind would be catching up with the bond over the next several days, maybe even a full week.

By the time you finished, Dean was already making a mental note to text Sam. If he was gonna be stuck like this for a while, at your cabin, he was gonna need a few more things.

Getting him downstairs was slow work. Between the walls, the railing on the stairs, and you, he managed, though the dizziness flared every time he wasn’t touching something solid. You felt it too—the faint, restless pull anytime there was space between you. You hated seeing him unsteady like this, but he wasn’t fighting you. He was trusting you.

By the time you settled him into a chair, pulled close to the stove for easy access, Dean was quiet. Too quiet. His mind was still buzzing with what you’d told him. But his wolf? 

His wolf was purring.

Purring with pride, with something warm and deep and wholly content. You’d researched this. You’d prepared, for him. You were taking care of him, of them. 

Dean was floored. Speechless. And utterly in awe of you. 

You handed him a cup of hot coffee, giving him that small, reassuring smile. “I like hearing you purr,” you murmured, going back to the task of making him breakfast.

He nearly choked on the sip of coffee he’d taken, not even realizing the sound wasn’t just in his head, as he now questioned the whine from earlier. “Did… did that uh… that whine… Was that why, you uh… you came back?” Dean asked hesitantly, more focused on the cup in his hand than on you.

You hummed softly, cracking eggs into the pan, the scent of butter and bacon already filling the kitchen. “Yeah,” you admitted, glancing over to him. “It felt like someone punched me in the chest and stabbed me in the stomach at the same time.”

Dean frowned, running his thumb over the rim of his coffee mug. That didn’t sit right with him—not because he doubted you, but because the idea of his wolf projecting emotions outside himself, loud enough for you to not only hear them, but feel it, was a whole new level of strange. He’d spent his entire life with his wolf as something internal, instinctive. But this? It was like the damn thing had a voice now.

Another soft rumble slipped from his throat, and he stiffened. You turned fully toward him this time, head tilting, a knowing gleam in your eyes. “Dean.”

“What?” he grumbled, shifting in his seat.

“You’re purring again.” Heat crept up his neck, but he couldn’t even bring himself to deny it. He just shook his head, muttering, “God, this is weird.” He let out a huff, rubbing the back of his neck, but the sound didn’t stop—not entirely. It settled in his chest, deep and steady. The way his wolf’s emotions mixed with his own, he understood it. 

You grinned, setting two plates down at the table. Over-easy eggs, thick slices of bacon, toast with butter. Simple, but comforting. “I know it feels weird, but it’s normal. I promise. And, I like hearing it.” You then helped him move to sit at the table, keeping him steady with your hand on his chest, his arm over your shoulders.

Once settled, Dean picked up his fork, but before he dug in, something flashed through his mind—familiar yet distant, like a memory stirring from the depths of his wolf.

It wasn’t clear at first. Just warmth. The feeling of something solid and comforting. Then came the scent of old leather and firewood, the weight of a thick blanket pulled over his shoulders. He must’ve been young, maybe six or seven, curled up on the couch after sneaking out to watch the pack elders talk. He’d drifted off before he got caught, only to wake up to Bobby pressing a cup of hot cocoa into his hands with a gruff, “You got ears for a reason, boy—use ‘em next time.”

Dean blinked, the memory dissolving like mist, but something about it lingered. The phantom weight of the blanket still clung to his shoulders, and for half a second, he could swear he smelled old leather and firewood, warm and grounding. That same warmth settled in his chest as he took a bite of food, the taste grounding him.

“You okay?” you asked softly, studying him.

“Yeah,” he said, voice rough. “Just… remembering stuff.” “If you want to talk about anything, I’m here,” you offered with a reassuring smile.

You sat beside him, letting him have the space to process while still staying close to him. Dean took another bite, savoring the simple meal, feeling the way it soothed something raw inside him. He’d had breakfast a thousand times before, but this? Sitting here, with you, his wolf right there at the surface, with him? It was dizzying.

The rest of the morning passed in a slow, easy rhythm. After eating, you took care of clean up while he drank another cup of coffee, mostly just watching you. Memories from his wolf came and went, the fog in his mind still there, but as long as you were close, it never got overwhelming.

You guided him to the couch once the kitchen was clean, setting him up with a cup of water before pulling a blanket over him. When they came, you stayed close to him, almost able to feel that something was just a little off, even if you couldn’t see his face with how the two of you were cuddling. Hours passed like that—quiet conversation, the occasional purr slipping past his lips or rumbling in his chest. It was the quiet whines when you had to walk into another room for something that always felt the same—that ache in your chest, the twist in your gut, and the need to go comfort them. 

It wasn’t the same feeling you would have if you were normal. If you were normal, it would have been a mutual claiming the night before. You shook the thought away, forcing yourself to focus on the moment. This was how it had to be. How it was meant to be. Even if something inside you ached for more.

Every so often, another memory surfaced—a childhood run through the trees with Sam at his side, the feel of John’s firm hand on his shoulder as he taught him about cars, the warmth of Mary’s voice singing softly when he was sick. Some of them he shared with you as your fingers absentmindedly teased through his hair, his head resting on your shoulder.

Each one felt clearer, sharper than before. Like the bond was untangling parts of himself he hadn’t fully understood. All while weaving them together in an entirely new way.

And through it all, you were there. His rock. His peace. His home.

By the time late afternoon rolled around, Dean wasn’t just getting used to it—he was settling into it. The way his wolf’s memories surfaced—the images, feelings, and scents—playing through his mind as if they were his own. And in a way, they were his. At least his wolf felt content within him. Emotions and thoughts weaving together as Dean got back pieces of his life he hadn’t realized he missed.

He’d almost forgotten to call his brother with everything going on. The two of you laughed, finding out he was just next door, hanging out with Jess in her cabin. Sam took down the list of things Dean had asked him to pick up, letting him know he’d stop by later on that evening to drop them off.

Dean yawned halfway through another movie, shifting against you so his head rested on your thigh, his body stretching out along the couch. It was just after noon, the sun high in the sky, but here, in the quiet sanctuary of your cabin, time felt slower—softer. Before he even realized it, sleep took him under, your scent wrapping around him like a lullaby.

—------------------------

Another full moon. Another shift. 

Six months after presentation, his wolf had full control. This was his time. Almost ten hours where he existed unchained—where the body and mind were fully his own. 

Tonight, though, the air was different. Charged. 

He didn’t linger with his pack. Tonight, he made a beeline straight for that place. His paws kicking up damp earth as he raced toward the place that called to him—had been calling to him for months. His heart pounded harder the closer he got, anticipation coursing hot through his veins. 

Then, he was there.

But still, he remained in the shadows, watching. He’d come here nearly every night of the full moon, but hadn’t always stayed. Tonight though? Tonight, something was different. 

A scent—so faint, like a whisper through the trees, but unmistakable. Her. She was closer.

His muscles coiled, every instinct screaming at him to move, to close the distance. But his paws were rooted to the earth, as if some unseen force held him back.

Then, he heard it. 

She was singing.

The sound hit him like a strike to the chest. Raw. Aching. Beautiful. She was in human form—he could tell with how the notes resinated off the forest, speaking a language she didn’t understand. 

But he did.

Loneliness. Longing. The deep, unwavering love she had for her pack. But there was so much more. Her love for her best friend. Then, there was the pain of never feeling her wolf. 

He not only heard it, he felt it.

If he could have cried, he would have. Instead, he stood there, helpless, every instinct warring against the barriers between them. He wanted to find a way past that damned fence, to reach her, to tell her she wasn’t alone.

But he couldn’t. And then, her song faded into the night. He tilted his head to the moon, answering her in the only way he could, with a howl of his own. “I’m here. You’re not alone.”

But she wouldn’t understand, and that was the most heartbreaking part of it all. 

His ears twitched, listening, straining for any sign of her. But all he heard was the soft crunch of footsteps retreating into the woods.

She had left.

The next two nights were the same, but after that, over the next year, there was nothing. 

He spent his days fighting with his human, desperate, frustrated. He couldn’t make him understand, not when all he could push through the barrier between them were fractured emotions. But gods, he tried.He wanted nothing to do with other omegas. They weren’t her. Not like his human did.

He couldn’t make his human understand. She was out there, so damned close yet so far away. It was infuriating. His anger, frustration, and helplessness—it all bled into his human, spilling out in fists and arguments at school.

Then, on a night when he thought he might go mad from the silence—

Her song filled the air again.

It hit him like a tidal wave. Her scent moved with it, twining through the air, sinking deep into his bones. Rain-soaked earth. Vanilla. Something purely, unmistakably hers. Cinnamon.

A purr rumbled through his chest before he could stop it.

And again, he answered, his howl splitting the night. “You’re not alone. I’m here.” 

But again, only silence followed. Only the soft sound of her footsteps as she walked away from wherever she’d been hiding among the trees.

Four years. Four long, grueling years of silence. Some full moons, he went to that spot and sang a sad song for only the moon. Others, he ran with his pack, trying to lose himself in the rhythm, pushing away the ache that never eased. The tension between him and his human worsened after each full moon. 

His ears twitched. The sounds of the forest were always the same—an owl in the distance, creatures scurrying through the underbrush, the faint rustling of leaves. But then, a new sound. Footsteps. Soft, careful, deliberate. His head snapped up, eyes locking onto that ancient stump in the clearing.

Then, her song rang into the night. 

That melody from what felt like a lifetime ago. The sound of her voice hit him like a lightning strike, sinking deep into his bones. She was here, in the place he had been drawn to since his first shift. So close.

And like he’d done every time before, he howled his reply. “You’re not alone. I’m here.”

Like before, he waited to hear the retreat of her footsteps, but they never came. Instead, they moved closer, his entire body tensing with anticipation. It was the breeze that came from her direction, bringing her scent with it. Rain-soaked earth, vanilla, and something entirely her. Cinnamon. It was stronger. She was closer.

She wasn’t leaving. 

He rose to his feet, staying in the shadows, watching where the sound of her footsteps came from. Slowly, she came into view, half-lit by the moon. He swallowed hard. Even in her human form, she was breathtaking.

When she spoke, the sound was as beautiful as her song, but her words confused him. All he could do was whimper, a quiet plea. He didn’t want her to leave. He wanted to be near her. If only he could make her understand.

But, she stayed, even came closer. 

Tentatively, he moved, matching her steps, unable to look away as she emerged fully into the moonlight. And there, beneath her skin, he saw her, locked away within her, like his human within him.

Her wolf. 

Like a ghost walking in tandem, or a double exposure photograph, her wolf walked with her—black as the midnight sky, eyes as deep and dark as the ocean. 

She was his everything.

—---------------------

Dean had been whimpering in his sleep. You weren’t entirely sure how to soothe him, so you just kept running your fingers through his hair, down his shoulder, over his arm. Slow, steady strokes, hoping the touch would ground him. His breath hitched, his brow furrowing, muscles tensing beneath your fingertips.

What was he dreaming about?

His hand twitched where it rested on your knee, then lifted slightly, pawing the air like he was reaching for something—or someone. His lips parted, a soft, broken sound escaping before he finally stilled, his breathing evening out again.

You exhaled, relaxing back against the cushion of the couch, fingers still idly tracing over his arm. The movie had long since faded into the background, nothing more than distant noise. Your focus was entirely on him—on the slow rise and fall of his chest, the way his features softened in his sleep. 

Your eyes drifted to the mark on his neck, still healing from when you’d claimed him the night before. A small smile to your lips. That bond—the one that tethered him to you—was what was allowing this. Letting him become one with his wolf, rather than just something to fight with in his head.

Then, with a quiet inhale, Dean stirred. His fingers brushing against your skin, a soft, unconscious touch. Slowly, heavy-lidded eyes blinked open, green still clouded with sleep but searching, flickering over your face like he was seeing you for the first time. There was something different in his gaze.

Something deeper. Something that stole your breath from your lungs.

His lips parted like he was about to say something, but he hesitated, his brows knitting together slightly. He just looked at you, a quiet intensity in his gaze, like he was trying to fit words to something too vast, too consuming to be spoken aloud.

He’d been speechless that first day nearly three months ago. But now? After that dream—after seeing you through his wolf’s eyes—language felt almost meaningless.

So, he didn’t try. He just moved, shifting upright before pulling you into him, wrapping his arms around you like he needed you closer, needed you real. His breath was warm against your hair when he finally whispered, “I love you.”

The words were thick with emotion, not nearly enough to contain the weight of everything inside him, but it was all he had.

You stilled, fingers curling slightly where they had rested against his back. He’d never said that before. It wasn’t just the words. The weight behind them held something deeper.

The words settled over you, sinking in slowly, a warmth unfurling in your chest that you weren’t sure how to name. For a moment, you didn’t know what to say.

But then, you pulled back just enough to look at him, taking in the way his gaze searched yours, the faint crease in his brow like he was bracing himself. Your lips parted, breath hitching slightly before you finally managed, “Dean…”

The sound of his name made something flicker in his expression—something raw, something vulnerable. But before either of you could say more, his stomach grumbled, breaking the moment.

You blinked, then let out a breathy laugh, the tension easing just enough for you to shift back, cupping his cheek briefly before nudging him toward the armrest. “Come on, big guy. Let’s get you something to eat.”

He huffed, rubbing a hand over his face as he sat back. “Yeah, alright. But I’m still not moving too fast, so don’t rush me.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, standing before offering him a hand up. “I wasn’t planning on it, Speed Racer.”

Dean took your hand, letting you steady him as he stood. He still wobbled slightly, his grip tightening around yours, and you gave him a knowing look. “Still dizzy?”

He exhaled sharply. “Yeah. Feels like I’ve been on a boat all day.”

“Could last a while,” you reminded him as you guided him toward the kitchen. “Depending on how stubborn you are about letting it happen.” Dean shot you a pointed look, muttering something about “not that stubborn,” but you just hummed, unconvinced, as you opened the fridge.

With it still a couple of hours until dinner, you pulled out the pie from the day before, glancing at him as he lowered himself into a chair. His eyes were distant again, like he was still caught in whatever he’d dreamed about.

After a moment, you set a plate in front of him, then sat down across from him. “Do you want to talk about it?” Dean hesitated, rolling his shoulders slightly, before dragging a hand down his face. “Yeah. I think—I think I need to.” His voice was quieter now, thoughtful. “I saw things. Remembered things.” He exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “My wolf’s memories. It wasn’t just a dream.”

You nodded, not pushing, just waiting. He’d tell you when he was ready. For now, you went back over to the freezer, pulling out a roast to prepare for dinner while he ate his slice of pie, piecing things together in his mind. 

The ‘dream’ had shaken Dean more than he wanted to admit just yet. It was a hell of a lot to take in. The emotions alone had his mind reeling. He let out a shaky breath just as you set a glass of water on the table for him.

“You need to stay hydrated,” you said, pressing a quick kiss on the top of his head.

You thought about the book you were going to write, making mental notes of all the little things that had happened since that morning—things others probably had no knowledge of. Then, tucking them away in your mind, you focused on slicing carrots, potatoes, and onions to add to the roast.

Dean groaned. “Carrots? Really?” He knew he was whining like a pup, but he wasn’t a fan of ‘healthy’ stuff like his brother was.

You glanced over your shoulder, amusement flickering in your eyes. You could have pointed out just how much he sounded like a fussy pup, but honestly? A part of you found it endearing in a way you couldn’t quite put into words. You bit back a smile, turning back to your task.

“All I ask is that you try them. You’re a grown man. I’m not going to force-feed you,” you teased, your voice light but knowing. It was a trick you had learned from Beverly all those years ago, the kind that worked on stubborn pups who turned their noses up at anything remotely healthy.

Dean shot you a skeptical look, shoveling another bite of pie into his mouth. Not even his mom had been able to cook carrots in a way that didn’t still taste like carrots. He watched as you prepped the roasting pan, seasoned everything with practiced ease. And… grabbed the honey? His brows knit together, his curiosity pulled him from his seat. 

“What are you…” he trailed off, eyes narrowing as he watched you coat the entire roast, seasonings and all, in a layer of honey. Then, drizzled it sparingly over the potatoes, carrots, and onions that were all around the chunk of meat in the middle.

You glanced at him, raising a brow as you capped the honey. “Never had a roast like this before, huh?” 

Dean shook his head, still watching you like he wasn’t entirely sure whether to be intrigued or horrified.

You chuckled, covering the roasting pan and sliding it into the preheated oven. “Guess you’ll just have to trust me.” 

His curiosity had officially been piqued. You made a mental note of that—just another thing you were learning about him.

“Do you want to watch another movie or tell me about the dream you had?” you asked softly, turning to face him.

Your question pulled him from his mental debate over how you had used honey on dinner. 

Your voice was gentle, giving him an out if he needed it. Dean appreciated that. He swallowed, his fingers tapping idly against the counter supporting him. He wanted to tell you—hell, he needed to—but the words sat heavy in his chest, tangled in a way that made them hard to pull free.

“Movie?” he said instead, hesitantly. It wasn’t a lie, not exactly. He just wasn’t ready yet.

Dean knew you had other things the two of you could do, like board and card games, but with the fog in his mind, he couldn’t concentrate on anything for very long.

You didn’t press. “Movie it is,” you said with a small smile, helping him back to the living room. 

As he settled onto the couch, the dizziness subsiding along with some of the fog in his mind, he watched you scan the shelves. His eyes followed the careful way you moved, the easy familiarity in how you sifted through the movies. He liked that. Liked how comfortable you were, how natural all of this felt. His wolf rumbled in agreement, pushing closer, making its presence known in a way that sent a shiver down his spine.

He exhaled through his nose, your words from earlier replaying in his mind. Instead of pushing his wolf and its feelings away, Dean embraced them, letting his wolf stretch in his body, his own fingers flexing.

“Got any action movies?” he asked, taking slow, deep breaths, the sensation strange but manageable.

You hummed in thought, fingers trailing over the cases before plucking one free. “How about Young Guns?” You glanced back at him, gauging his reaction. “It’s action, kinda Western—you like Westerns, right?”

Dean huffed, the corner of his mouth tugging upward despite himself. “Damn right, I do.” You grinned, slipping the disc into the player and settling beside him as the movie started. He put his arm over your shoulders, pulling you to snuggle into his side, and you let him. His wolf guided him, and this time, he didn’t fight the instincts that coursed through him.

For a while, Dean focused on the film, letting himself get lost in the gunfights, the sharp drawl of the cowboy accents, the reckless loyalty of the gang. But his wolf was more focused on you. Calm within him, just under his skin.

It wasn’t just the lingering weight of the dream—though that still sat at the back of his mind—it was you. The warmth of you against him, the steady rhythm of your breathing, the faint scent of honey and spices still clinging to your skin from earlier. It was different than before, more potent. His wolf leaned into it, its instincts threading deeper into his awareness, merging with his own in a way that made his pulse quicken.

Dean clenched his jaw, shifting slightly. He wasn’t used to this. Wasn’t used to feeling his wolf so much, like it was pressing up against the inside of his ribs. It wasn’t demanding or aggressive—just present, threading through his awareness like the slow seep of warmth from a hot drink on a winter’s day.

It wasn’t bad, not exactly—just… new.

Then, halfway through the movie, the scent of dinner began to drift in from the kitchen.

It hit like a damn freight train.

The rich aroma of slow-roasted meat, the sweetness of hone caramelizing over time, the earthiness of seasoned vegetables—it all wrapped around him, sinking into his senses, pulling a grumble from his stomach, even after the slice of pie he’d had earlier. His wolf perked up instantly, sharp and alert, fully fixated on the meal cooking just a room away.

Dean swallowed hard.

His stomach growled again, a low, insistent sound, but it wasn’t just hunger clawing at him. It was the feeling behind it—the way his wolf recognized the meal as something made for him, something meant to nourish, to provide. 

He turned slightly, glancing down at you, your head resting against his chest. You were still focused on the movie, but he swore there was the faintest hint of a knowing smile on your lips.

You’d done this on purpose.

You knew how to get him to eat the damn carrots without forcing it, just like you knew when to push him and when to let him sit with his thoughts. He wasn’t sure how you did it—how you always seemed to know—but it settled something deep in his chest.

His wolf purred, the sound a gentle rumble in his chest.

Dean paid attention to his wolf, pulling you just a little closer. If he was being honest, this was one thing he and his wolf could agree on—being proud of you, of what you were doing for them. 

Maybe merging with it wasn’t such a bad thing, he thought to himself. Not if it meant more moments like this.

He let himself sink into the warmth of your embrace, losing track of time as the movie played on. When the timer dinged in the kitchen as the credits began rolling, you stirred against him, stretching with a soft yawn. “Lemme pull dinner out. Then, I’ll help you to the kitchen,” you murmured, your voice drowsy but content.

Dean’s first instinct was to wave you off, to let you rest while he handled the rest of dinner. But his wolf stirred, disagreeing. Don’t. The resistance irritated him at first—until he actually looked at you. Not tired. Relaxed. His wolf knew, and as Dean let himself settle again, he could feel that knowing. A quiet certainty. He was beginning to recognize it.

You returned a moment later, helping him to his feet and guiding him to the kitchen. He let you, more out of curiosity than necessity, watching you as you moved through the space with effortless ease. There was something grounding about it, something steady in the way you plated the food with careful precision.

The scent had hit him first—the moment you pulled the lid off the roasting pan. The honey-glaze, the slow-roasted meat, and the rich spices teased his senses. It wrapped around him, familiar and new all at once, making his stomach tighten with more than just hunger. There was comfort there. But what really got him was the anticipation on how these carrots were going to taste.

Dean swallowed, shifting in his seat as you set a plate in front of him, the warmth of the dish seeping through the ceramic. His wolf all but hummed, a quiet rumble of satisfaction curling in his chest. This was meant for him—made for him. He could feel it, the unspoken care in every detail.

You sat down across from him with your own plate, offering a small smile before digging in, giving him space to process. However, you did eye him discreetly, curious as to how he’d react to the carrots. The concept worked on pups, so you figured it would work on adults too, in much the same way.

He picked up his fork, stabbing a chunk of carrot. It wasn’t mushy, offering just enough resistance to make him pause. Huh. He popped it into his mouth—and froze.

It was… sweet. But not too sweet. Tender while still firm. It melted on his tongue in a way he hadn’t expected, the honey balancing out the natural earthiness. His brows shot up as he chewed, surprised despite himself.

The giggle that slipped past your lips pulled his gaze to meet yours. To him, you looked like an amused parent who had just tricked their pup into enjoying something healthy. There was no stopping the slight tug at the corners of his lips, his wolf’s amusement slipping out, and he let it.

“Alright,” he admitted, gruff but good-natured. “I’ll give you this one.”

Dean cut himself a bite of meat. The flavors hit him in waves—savory, sweet, decadent. His wolf pressed close, instincts flaring in quiet approval, and Dean didn’t even try to fight it. He let his wolf stretch beneath his skin, their edges blurring. Not quite merged, but no longer quite separate either. Still an odd sensation, but he was done resisting.

Halfway through the meal, he found himself glancing up at you, his thoughts shifting. “You wanna know about the dream?” he asked, voice low but steady.

You met his gaze, setting your fork down carefully. “Only if you’re ready,”  you said, giving him that same out you knew he might need.

Dean exhaled, rolling his shoulders, his fingers tightening slightly around his fork. “It was of that first night,” he began, his voice quiet again. His gaze was on you, but far away, letting it play out in front of him. “But… it was that whole time before he met you, too.”

You stayed quiet, still giving him the space he needed so he could put words to the emotions you saw swirling in his eyes. Important memories came in dreams, you mentally reminded yourself. 

“He saw you, your wolf,” he whispered. “Like a ghost walking in you.” There was so much, but that had been what stood out the most to him, your wolf. Your breath hitched, and you swallowed hard, lips parting slightly. But you stayed quiet, taking steadying breaths to try to calm your racing heart. None of which was lost on him.

His eyes refocused on you and whispered, “She’s beautiful, like you.”

You fought back tears as the emotions tightened around your chest like a vice, but one slipped down your cheek without permission. You couldn’t hold his gaze anymore, quickly wiping away the tear and attempting to pull yourself together. He got to see a part of you that you had never even been able to feel, and you weren’t entirely sure how to process it, but it hurt.

If he was capable, he would have gone over and pulled you into his arms, but the last thing he needed was to have you end up helping him up off the floor due to the dizziness. So, instead, he reached across the small table and took your hand in his.

For a few moments, he didn’t speak, letting his wolf guide him. 

“He’s always known it was you,” Dean explained softly, his thumb rubbing slow, soothing circles against your skin. “Ever since the first night I shifted after I presented alpha.” His voice was steady, weighted with something old, something certain. “When he’d answer you, he was telling you that he was there. That you weren’t alone.”

Something inside you broke. The kind of break that wasn’t jagged or painful—but the kind that let the light in.

Tears slipped down your cheeks, silent and unstoppable. Dean and his wolf worked together as he carefully braced against the table, shifting to sit beside you. Then, his arms were around you, strong and sure, pulling you close. He whispered comforting words, softly stroking your hair with one hand, the other on the small of your back, grounding you. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled against his shoulder, voice thick, the words almost swallowed by quiet sobs. You weren’t even sure where the emotions were coming from or why they had spilled over all of a sudden. It had just hit you, out of the blue. Or had it pulled to the surface things you had chosen not to face over the years, a loneliness that no one had truly ever been able to fill?

Dean could smell it in your scent, but with your mutation, his scent couldn’t calm you. So, he allowed his wolf further to the front, mixing with his consciousness, guiding him, so close they nearly blurred into one. A soft rumble in his chest vibrated into you. 

He was purring, again. He didn’t fight against it. This time, he leaned into it.

Slowly, your tears subsided, and your breathing evened out, the tension in your muscles easing as you relaxed against him.

Merging isn’t so bad, Dean thought to himself when you finally looked up at him, and he smiled softly down at you. He cupped your cheek, his thumb wiping away another stray tear. “You have nothing to apologize for,” he told you softly. “You’re here now, with me.” You didn’t have to explain why you were apologizing—he already knew. You saw it in his eyes, the quiet understanding, the way both he and his wolf held no resentment for the years that had passed, for the distance that had once been between you. With a shaky breath, you managed a small smile, then leaned in, pressing a feather-light kiss to the tip of his nose.

“Thanks, for understanding,” you murmured.

Dean exhaled softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead, giving you one last gentle squeeze before returning to his seat. It’d been easy to comfort you when he worked with his wolf. Easier than he ever thought it could be. The cabin felt different now—lighter, softer. Falling into conversation was simple, laughing about things from the movies, his sweet compliments about dinner, and the way you would just look at him, like you were seeing something in him no one else ever had.

You did see something in him—the way he was sharing control with his wolf, how they worked together, and how a softness finally found his eyes as the tension eased from his features. 

Dinner wound down with an ease neither of you rushed to disturb. Dean nursed a beer as you started cleaning up, the last of the golden daylight spilling through the kitchen windows. You’d barely tucked away the leftovers when the front door swung open, Jess and Sam’s voices carrying through the cabin.

“In the kitchen!” you called, not looking up from your task.

Sam was the first to step inside, eyes sweeping over Dean as the scents of dinner lingered thick in the air. “Man, if Jess hadn’t already fed me, I’d be all over whatever you made,” he said, amusement tugging at his voice.

Jess beelined for you, looping her arms around your waist as you washed another plate. “Tell me you saved me some?” she teased, resting her head on your shoulder.

You giggled, nudging her lightly. “If Dean doesn’t finish it off tomorrow.”

“Bet he only ate the meat,” Sam quipped, setting down the bag of supplies Dean had asked him for earlier.

Dean took a swig of his beer, shooting his brother a look, but you beat him to it. 

“He ate the potatoes and the carrots,” you informed Sam, matter-of-factly.

Sam’s brows shot up. “How?”

Dean exhaled sharply through his nose—somewhere between irritation and resignation—as your laughter bubbled through the kitchen, warm and easy. Jess smirked, licking her lips as she answered for you. “She uses honey or maple syrup on them when she does a roast.”

Sam huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Too bad Mom never knew that tick.” Dean muttered something under his breath and tipped his beer back, but he didn’t argue. Because, well—Sam wasn’t wrong.

“We’re not staying long,” Jess murmured, her chin still resting on your shoulder. “Just wanted to drop off Dean’s bag.” With her still holding onto you, you managed to dry your hands. “We’ll hang out soon—”

“None of that,” she scolded, voice firm but gentle. “Don’t rush this. I’ll be here when he can walk on his own two feet again.” You knew she was teasing Dean—at least a little—but also that she wasn’t going anywhere. Even if it took him a month to figure out how to merge with his wolf. 

“Thanks,” you whispered, leaning back into her embrace, covering her hand with yours.

“What are sisters for?” she murmured, squeezing you once before finally letting go.

The brothers watched, momentarily caught in the quiet intimacy of the moment. Pack members were close by nature, but this—this was something deeper. It was like the bond they had with each other, something that existed beyond blood or name. It wasn’t just Winter or Winchester or even how the packs had merged. The four of you simply fit, like a pack of your own, bound by something older, something unspoken. Jess had never shied away from your scent, had never hesitated to be close, and that meant something. The two of you had just been connected from the day she was born—like the day the brothers met the two of you, and the day Dean’s wolf had shifted for the first time. 

Jess was the first to pull them all from the quiet moment, ever the one to break the spell before it could settle too deeply.

“Well,” she sighed dramatically, stepping back from you with a teasing smirk. “We should probably head out before these lovebirds start making eyes at each other.” Sam huffed a laugh, shaking his head as he pulled his keys from his pocket. “Yeah, can’t be third and fourth wheeling all night.” Dean scoffed, shooting his brother a look, but he didn’t bother arguing. Not when he knew those two had already done far more than he and you had. 

Jess squeezed your hand once before stepping away, wiggling her fingers in a little wave. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” “Pretty sure that doesn’t leave much off the table,” you quipped, making her cackle as she disappeared out the door with Sam.

The quiet didn’t rush in; it settled, comfortably. The hum of the refrigerator, the distant chirp of night insects through the open window—soft, ambient sounds that made the space feel warmer, more yours. Dean leaned back in his chair, watching you for a long moment before he finished his beer.

“You tired?” His voice was low, rough in a way that had nothing to do with exhaustion.

You glanced at him, shaking your head. “Not yet.” Dean exhaled, slow, watching as you wiped down the stove and counters. You felt his eyes on you, but not in a bad way. It was just different—not just adoration, but understanding. A deep, bone-deep knowing.

His wolf had always been there, waiting. Pacing beneath his skin, a presence he’d tried to keep at arm’s length, control rather than embrace. But tonight, there was no struggle, no tension. It wasn’t separate from him anymore, wasn’t something he had to manage. It was him. Fully, completely.

The steady pulse in his chest, the way his body leaned forward instinctively in his chair, toward yours, how he could feel his muscles relax just with your presence. The pull that had always been there—only now he was finally letting himself accept it.

“I like this,” he admitted, voice softer now, honest in a way that felt like a secret meant only for you. “Not fighting it. Feels… right.”

It was the soft smile tugging at your lips when you turned around that hitched his breath. His words sent something warm curling in your chest, knowing he meant more than just his wolf—he meant you. Meant this. 

“Yeah,” you murmured, stepping closer to him, reaching out and taking his hand. “It does.”

And for the first time, Dean let himself believe it.

He let you help him upstairs, though he barely needed to lean on you at all now. Not when he had finally stopped fighting—both with and against his wolf. He wasn’t losing himself by embracing it. He was becoming whole. 

Instincts he’d been afraid of for far too long settled into place, no longer something to suppress but something to trust. And somehow, being with you now, seeing the world through his wolf’s eyes, it all just made sense. Like the pieces of a puzzle finally snapping together. 

Even knowing you couldn’t feel the bond between the two of you, couldn’t scent him or the emotions woven in it, he knew. 

Your heart belonged to him. Just as his had always belonged to you.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 12

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[cilil]

𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞!𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐚𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 - 𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽ℯ𝒾𝓇𝓈

Characters: Mairon, Gothmog, Eönwë, Tilion & Ossë; reader's gender is unspecified - all up to your imagination~

Featuring: 2nd person POV, vampire!Mairon, werewolf!Mairon, monsterfucking, Balrog anatomy, avian Ainu, merman, some Dom/sub dynamics, bit of predator/prey and other kinks, penetrative sex, intercrural sex, dirty talk

Warnings: Possessive themes, smut, tiny bit of degradation branding/burn marks, blood drinking/vampirism, mentions of impact play (whipping, spanking), swords/blades, bit of blood, biting, scratching

AN: Thanks to everyone who voted on my poll (back in the day). Sorry for the delay and here are your top choices plus our favorite birdy boy - hope you enjoy!

Mairon

𓂀 Once your heart is his, Mairon makes sure to live up to his reputation as the Lord of Gifts and the Lord of the Rings. Whether it is to seal a bond of marriage, asking for your hand or a promise of love and courtship, he crafts a beautiful ring just for you - showing everyone that you are now his and possibly also enhancing said ring with a few spells so he can watch over you.

𓂀 Yet gold is not the only way for him to mark your body; he also loves to use his fire to ensure neither you nor anyone else will ever forget where you belong. Mairon's preferred symbol to draw on your skin is The Eye, and he loves to place it right on your neck or chest so he can see it every time he takes you.

𓂀 His love and desire for you take many forms, as does he; when in the shape of a vampire, he enjoys biting you and drinking your blood while he makes love to you, strengthening the bond between you. He may sing to you to keep you calm while he feeds, and his song causes the wound and the vein he drank from to appear golden for a time until it slowly fades. Mairon expects you to wear those marks with pride and not cover them up.

𓂀 Whenever his form has more wolfish attributes, he also likes leaving bite marks, but his favorite feature is his knot. He loves how it swells inside you and stretches you out while he breeds you and how it keeps his seed inside until he decides he's done with you for the night.

. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭

"Do you think you can take it?" 

Mairon slams into you with the full strength of his fána, making sure you can feel every inch of his hot, hard cock stretching you out without mercy. 

"Do you think you can take my knot, my precious little slut?" 

You barely manage to nod before a searing hot sensation makes you cry out in pain and pleasure alike. The eye symbol, proudly adorning your chest, glows in response to his words, like on the day when you were first marked by his hand. 

Satisfied with your obedience, Mairon stops moving and allows his seed to fill you. His knot swells proudly, binding you to him, and you try to muffle another scream — only for him to deter you with a quick slap on your thigh. 

"No," he says firmly, "let me hear it. I want to hear how much you love this, and you will not deny me."

Gothmog

☄ Contrary to popular belief, Gothmog can be affectionate and isn't afraid to show it. He likes to keep you close in public and holds you like a pretty little doll, making it clear to everyone that you belong to him and no one else may come close to you, let alone touch you. Even when he isn't around, the scent of fire and heat of his touch seems to surround you everywhere you go.

☄ Yet make no mistake: The Lord of Balrogs is incredibly strong and likes it rough. He may use his claws and fangs to as part of passionate love making and leave bite and scratch marks in strategic spots to ensure that everyone knows he has claimed you. Carry your marks with pride: To Balrogs, they are a symbol of strength and a sign that you belong.

☄ Gothmog's favorite way to claim and mark you, however, is fire - but he won't use his whip unless you ask him to. Instead, he may opt to simply use his hands to leave a nice and warm hand print on your skin; the same applies to any sort of impact play where he uses his hands instead of any tools. The touch of a Balrog leaves a lingering feeling of either cosy warmth or searing heat, and which one it will be is his choice to make.

☄ Aside from horns that you can hold on to, Gothmog also has a tail - and yes, he can and will use it. Not only is it a convenient as an additional limb to wrap around you and pull you close when his hands and arms are occupied and to keep others away from you, but he can also use it to fuck you if he so chooses, be it to tease you or for double penetration. He loves to test your limits.

. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭

"What a pretty little thing you are." Gothmog pats your head with his large hand while he continues to effortlessly bounce you on his lap as if you weigh nothing. 

You would have cried out from the intensity of his massive cock thrusting in and out of you rapidly, but all you manage is a muffled moan; your mouth is currently occupied by the tip of his tail. 

"We don't need the entire fortress to hear you," Gothmog said beforehand, and you agreed. 

He is — for his standards — gentle with you, but you also know that there isn't much mercy to be had in Angband. You consider yourself lucky to be with him. 

Your thoughts are interrupted when Gothmog rakes the claws of his free hand down your back and chuckles when he feels your throat vibrate with muted screams. 

"And so good for me too," he adds to his previous statement. "Keep taking me so nicely and I might even let you rest after this round."

Eönwë

⚔ As sweet and affectionate as Eönwë is with you in private, he's not exactly fond of others trying to compete, particularly during avian mating season. He stays with you whenever he can, guarding you like a precious treasure, and watches the people who approach you, both when's nearby and when he's somewhere else. Should another suitor be so foolish as to approach you anyway, they will soon notice a very irate Maia glaring at them and posturing aggressively, every single feather fluffed up.

⚔ While you two are still courting and not quite ready for marriage yet, Eönwë presents you with a lovely promise bracelet or anklet (your choice), made of his favorite materials that he gathered himself. Nothing makes him happier than seeing you wear it, and conveniently enough it also serves as a reminder to other suitors that you are very much taken - by the chief of the Maiar, no less.

⚔ When Eönwë makes love to you, he can be gentle, but he can also be feral. Sometimes his desire simply overwhelms him. Depending on his current form, he has talons on his hands and will make use of them to mark you, even drawing ancient patterns on you to show everyone who claimed you. You can also expect to find yourself covered in love bites, with his favorite area being your neck.

⚔ If you enjoy rough sex and agree to try out some more "extreme" kinks, Eönwë would love to make use of his sword - the song of steel and battle is ingrained in his very being, after all. As much as the rational part of him hates to see you hurt, the feral part of him is fascinated by the way you shiver when a cold blade is pressed against you or when it leaves beautiful lines of red on your skin and draws a few droplets of blood.

. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭

Cold steel bites into your skin as the blade touches your throat, but you only have eyes for Eönwë. He's breathing heavily, and his fána glows with barely contained lust. 

"I want you," he breathes. 

You spread your legs in silent invitation. Surely he must know that you are already his; even if you decided to fight back now, which is the last thing on your mind, he would be too strong for you. 

"Exactly like this," Eönwë says then, and you understand. He wants to take you with his sword at your throat, utterly at his mercy, and your skin prickles with excitement. 

The prospect of submitting to the greatest warrior of the Maiar so completely is thrilling. 

Eönwë enters you with one swift thrust, his free hand reaching for your hip. You make sure not to move, as you know he wants from you, and welcome him inside. The blade presses against your skin, but only lightly; his hold is steady, his posture impeccable, no blood is drawn. 

You surrender. 

Tilion

☽ Tilion loves antlers, his pride and joy when it comes to his fána, and wants to share that with you. If you yourself are an Ainu and grow your own pair, he will paint them silver with moonlight. If not, he will gladly hunt beasts of your choosing for you to claim their horns or antlers as a prize for you to wear and paint them as well. Nothing makes him more proud than everyone seeing that you belong to him.

☽ In order to make sure you are always safe, even when he isn't around, Tilion also crafts protective moon charms, infused with the light of Telperion's fruit. These are designed to keep creatures of darkness away, fearing his wrath, and may also glow to alert you to nearby danger. Not least of all they come with the additional benefit of letting everyone know that Tilion is only ever one call away.

☽ He loves to be intimate with you whenever he can, worshiping your body to his heart's content. Like his own hunt and war paint, Tilion enjoys painting your skin with matching patterns. These are expressions of love and companionship, glowing hymns to your beauty, but also marks of ownership and desire.

☽ For as hopelessly romantic as Tilion is, never forget that he's also a hunter. When lust overwhelms him, he is a passionate and wild lover, and sex with him can get rough. He enjoys chasing you, catching you and holding you down while he takes you, as well as leaving bite marks all over your body. Rest assured though that he will take good care of you after and do anything to ensure that you're comfortable and at ease.

. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭

"You are too beautiful for your own good," Tilion sighs, smiling as he kisses you on the lips. 

You are both naked, lying together on a bed of moss in the woods of Oromë, and panting heavily after a wild and lengthy chase. Of course your lover has caught you in the end and carried you to a comfortable hidden spot to enjoy his prey. 

Tilion trails his hand down your chest, your stomach, your lower body, and you spread your legs in anticipation. He wants you, you can see it; his midnight blue eyes darken with desire. 

"There you go, little deer," whispers gentle praise against your lips before pushing two fingers inside of you. "You will be all nice and wet for me soon, won't you?" 

You nod. Of course you will be; how could you not when you are with your beloved hunter, chasing your love and your pleasure with no less determination and ferocity than he chases his prey. 

Ossë

⚡︎ Ossë is a capricious and jealous lover. His feelings for you are strong and passionate, and he will fight anyone who wishes you ill - or comes closer than he would like. The storms he conjures are mighty, and even if Ulmo and Uinen stop him from giving in to his jealousy, Ossë is also a mischievous Maia who will find other ways to mess with those who have wronged you or him.

⚡︎ You will find yourself getting showered with gifts from him, various trinkets that he picks up in the oceans of Arda: Pearls, seashells, items and parts from sunken ships, bones, teeth and also all sorts of fish and sea creatures he caught for you. Ossë delights in swimming, diving and hunting to his heart's content, but most importantly coming home to you with something new to show you.

⚡︎ Just like he himself is wild and fierce, so is intimacy with him. You will find yourself completely soaked, regardless of whether he takes you in the water (as he prefers) or outside, and covered in bite and scratch marks; Ossë simply can't resist taking a bite out of something as beautiful as you are. He also loves the thought that everyone can tell what you two have done afterwards.

⚡︎ Ossë enjoys being on top of you, all around you and inside you, having his tail wrapped tightly around you. After he's done making love to you, he likes carrying you around like a precious little pearl and singing to you in ancient tongues until you fall asleep. You may also notice that, whenever you've been with him, the scent of seawater sticks with you for days.

. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭

The sand feels warm against your skin, but Ossë's form is cool and smooth. He rolls over so he's lying on top of you, his tail wrapping around your legs, and flashes you a toothy grin, like a hungry sea monster about to devour its unfortunate prey. 

"Should I take you here, marilla? Or should I drag you to the bottom of the ocean first?" he teases. 

Clawed, webbed fingers hold onto you possessively, and Ossë wastes no time nibbling on the side of your neck as you writhe underneath him. 

"Please have mercy, o lord of storms," you gasp, entertaining his little game to entice him to go on. 

You know your words had the intended effect when you feel something hard pressing against your thigh. 

"Perhaps I will," Ossë muses, a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

His tail keeps its grip on your legs, and he pushes his now-exposed cock between your thighs to rut against you.

"We will even start slowly," he whispers, "but worry not. You shall feel my full strength soon enough."

. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭

marilla (Quenya) - pearl

Thanks for reading! ♡

taglist: @angbangbaby @asianbutnotjapanese @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @bluezenzennie @edensrose @elanna-elrondiel @eunoiaastralwings @i-did-not-mean-to @just-little-human @saintstars @singleteapot @urwendii

[shalomniscient]

hello! could i ask for vampire fem reader with arlecchino pretty please with cherry on top... and the reader is like calm. very very calm in every situation and doesn't talk a lot.

anndd i am especially curious about if reader would drink arle's blood as i am confused if she's human or not... something like this doesn't even matter if it's sfw or nsfw i just really want to read how the dynamic would play off.

this is quite a specific ask, so i hope i'll be able to answer in the way you're looking for, but if i miss the mark i sincerely apologise. in any case, if we're going with a completely barebones arlecchino x vampire!reader (as in still in genshin, no AU), i think arle would like you a lot. that may sound like a given, but your calm demeanor as well as the fact that you're technically 'cursed' too would give you both quite a strong basis for connection, i feel.

arle wouldn't judge you for your curse, that'd be hypocritical. and she doesn't fear you, either. of course, she will draw a line when it comes to the children. if your abilities ever are a source of potential harm for the children, she will not hesitate to do what needs to be done. other than that, i think she has a neutral opinion on your vampirism. arlecchino's a character all about challenging fate, after all. this world may have cursed you in this way, but will you let that write your fate? or will you change it with your own hands? she eagerly awaits the answer you give her.

as for feeding from her... i think she'd be fine with it. the two of you probably have a schedule of sorts so that feeding times don't clash with when she needs to actively work. she doesn't really have an issue with you wanting to drink her blood specifically; the only concern she really has is if her blood is at all nutritious or even tastes good to you on account of her curse.

a few bonus fast and loose hcs:

arlecchino probably runs hot due to her curse, and since you run cold on account of being, well, a vampire, cuddling is very fun and very comfortable for you both.

she'd never admit it but part of her very much enjoys the feeding part of your relationship. it's a small comfort to her to know that her blood, cursed as it is, can be a form of sustainment.

arlecchino isn't above having you use any of your vampiric abilities to further her goals and that of the house's. she even finds the way you handle... situations attractive. what can she say, she likes an independent woman.

if the sun gets too much for you, arlecchino arranges for most of her traveling to be done at night instead. her means of transport, be it carriage or boat, always have tinted windows.

when it comes to being in the presence of other harbingers, arlecchino is very protective of you, especially when it comes to dottore. he's no doubt approached arle before, asking if he can 'study' you, and arle told him to fuck right off.

[cavegirlpoems]

So, the scourge of Fantasy Races in Black Death Rising

I dislike the way most gygaxian fantasy basically just has 'elf' and 'dwarf' and 'orc' and so on as different ethnicities, that it then gives statistical modifiers to. "Oh, this race of people are strong and tall and prone to violence because of their genetics, and these ones are genetically beautiful and wise". It all gets a bit skull-callipers-ey to my mind.

On the other hand, I had written a setting with ghosts and demons running around, and I wanted them to be playable. How to handle this?

Firstly, I ditched the word 'race' entirely. All human ethnicities are mechanically identical, as are all ethnicities of other types of being. Instead, I'm using nature. Why?

The point is that a character's nature reflects their current state of being, and this can change. For many characters, it probably will at some point, when they die and return as undead.

Your nature doesn't give you stat adjustments or cultural abilities, or anything like that. You get a dice of Hit Points, which will be a d6 almost all the time; beings whose health is frailer get a d4, those whose health is more rugged get a d8. Then you get a couple of perks or flaws that reflect the basic type of being you are.

So, we have four rough sorts of Nature. Humans (and variations on humanity), spiritual entities that were never human (mimics & petty demons), artificial beings (homunculi & grotesques), and the various sorts of undead.

Mortal humans are our baseline that everything else deviates from. They get more equipment (since they're part of society in a way the others aren't), and that's basically it. Then, the variations on humanity aren't inhereted traits, they're about your life circumstances. You get Purified Ones, humans raised by witch cults in a state of ritual purity, effectively artificial saints. You get Lycanthropes, humans infested by wild magical forces that make them terrifying to animals and struggle to fit into polite society. And you get ghouls, humans whose births were touched by the plague, who become asymptomatic plague carriers, and tend to become vampires when they die.

Then for spiritual beings, you have two types. Both are fundamentally fallen angels, the difference is where they fell to. Petty Demons ended up in Hell; they suffer more heavily from the effects of sin, struggle to interact with holy things, but can draw on Hellfire for strength in combat. Mimics, on the other hand, found themselves in the mortal world, where they promptly hid among mortals; they can shapeshift, but are easily influenced by whatever role they're playing.

Artificial beings are similar, it's just a matter of who made them. Some are made by mortal magicians; these are homunculi, who can't heal just by resting but whose artificial bodies are easily restored by a doctor. Then Grotesques are the strange results of Wormwood's falling to earth; spontaneously-generated oddities that are immune to the ill-effects of Wormwood or other toxins, but who carry Wormwood's attention, causing magic to go awry around them and having a generally unsettling aura.

Then, finally, there's the undead. These are some other type of being (often human, but plenty of the time other types too), who died and came back. All undead are immune to a bunch of stuff like sickness and drowning, but also can't recover from injury like the living, accumulating more wounds over time. The state you were in when you died determines what you come back as. If your body and soul are both pretty intact, you come back as a revenant. If your soul is intact but your body is too broken to animate, you come back as a ghost, animating a false body of dust and ash. On the flip-side, if you died with an intact body but a dangerously shredded soul, you come back as a Waif; a spiritually empty husk animated by residual memories. Then, lastly, if you die affected by the Plague, you always have the chance to come back as a Vampire, and find yourself driven to feed on the blood of the living like a zombie but retain your sentience.

The key thing is that a character can shift between these different types of being. The obvious one is becoming undead, but other means exist. The Cult of Babylon brew dyscrasias that can transform the drinker into a spiritual Mimic, for example. Similarly, the heralds of Wormwood can transform you into a Grotesque through exposure. And there are a whole selection of magic items that let you shift your nature; a wolf-pelt that lets the wearer become a lycanthrope, or a set of false teeth that make their user become a ghoul.

This helps create the right mix of origins among player characters; a blend of regular humans, rather weird humans, spiritual oddities, and the risen dead.

[the-canine-king]

Hi! Joining on the previous Anon to say that the reverse Werewolf/Vampire au is REALLY clicking with me.

Vi is already a character living unambiguously as herself, so being a vampire actively living life, fighting for food where she can get it, and Caitlyn, a character who grew up in a restricting environment as someone with so much life in her that she can't let out without being seen as a beast, finally finding the ability to be open and "free" with someone as unambiguously free as Vi, and giving her what she's been fighting for her whole life, while getting from Vi what she needs, aka a person who Gets It and doesn't judge Caitlyn for showing that side of herself), is mwah, perfect and I love how it delves into characterisation of them that you don't see in the "traditional" Caitvi werewolf/vampire au.

There they more so play into the character's vibes, but this au I feel like actually delves moreso into the characterisation.

Also consuming stuff from this au is like self indulgent stuff for me. It's my bed time story and whenever I see new stuff from it I kick my feet and giggle. And I just generally love your art style! Might try to change my own (been considering it for a while) and lean into your general direction, it's really inspiring and fun to look at. You get Vi and Cait so right in my opinion, it's ridiculous

AUGH YOU GET IT!!!! it's difficult for me to explain my thoughts on how this au would work compared to the "regular" version but i'm glad you got those thoughts exactly :'D

honestly, this au's intention was to just see how it'd work if the usual roles they were given was flipped and not much else thought LOL. so my doodles are mostly just "arcane but these two are a vampire/ werewolf and not the way everyone else sees them as" instead of something w/ a completely different universe/ story (w/ a few personal HCs but still… maybe i'll make something w/ more substance someday?). i just kinda hope thoughts like these would one day have others consider using this au as a set up for their own ideas (please show me if you do…)! and don't get me me wrong, i still love the regular vampire/ werewolf aus that people make and i also think it works in its own way, but i'm glad that me and others like the reversed au to muse over how the characterization would work alongside it and also to just to be self indulgent :')

and thank you so much for the kind words about my art too omg!? ;v;)/ i keep struggling on making them look good in my art style (esp since it's super simple anime styled lol) and i'm STILL testing out how i should draw them (like still having their individualistic traits but also adding a bit of my own flare on them…). but this is such a huge compliment idk how to thank you enough!? seriously, good luck on your own art journey, i'm super happy to hear i inspired something for you!!

(sorry it took me a while to respond to this, i feel like this got to the point where any messages sent to me about the au i have to draw something about it for you and i'm almost done the next doodle page lol)

[chameleonsd1sh]

in her pre-kid vampire video, tina had no colour differentiation other than a pink shirt

later, when she joined the kid vampire universe but was drawing herself in her own style, she gave herself white hair in the front AND back. this means it is not just her bangs that are whatever colour this represents.

“oh, tina is blonde”, you say. but clearly she has yellow! so if she were blonde, would she not use the yellow to show this? there is no way tina is blonde

she did not alter her skin colour, but she DID use the same white for other characters’ skin and hair, suggesting she IS using it to show lightness, at least when she uses it for skin. so tina must have darker skin compared to some of the others that she draws. she also uses this white to fill other characters’ hair. i doubt all these teenagers are running about with white hair, so the white probably is not really white.

she draws kid with white skin, but leaves bubby’s skin alone, implying kid is the palest of the lot

however, the first time tina is drawn by kid, her skin is the same white as the background. but this changes later, so i will take the most recent version as canon.

kid now draws tina with darker skin than the others. bubby is pale, like kid, so he may be darker than kid according to tina, but lighter than tina according to kid. this adds up, since kid is a vampire and is likely quite pale (though not blue-toned, since he is not coloured at all similarly to the superbaby), and confirms that tina has the darkest skin of the trio.

kid always draws tina’s hair black, and many try to say that this is just his style… except he gives mr. d white hair, and deklin is drawn as a blond

so what we know for certain is that tina has the darkest skin of the trio, and she has pink undertones, while mr. d has yellow undertones. also the superbaby is blue. for some reason.

tina’s hair colour is still undetermined, but she is clearly not blonde. she could have very light hair, platinum or white, but, as i said earlier, i find this unlikely considering the prevalence of the white

perhaps she is just using the white as a general filler for any colours she does not have. maybe there’s no rhyme or reason to it at all! maybe sometimes it represents paleness, other times just… “hey there’s something here”. we don’t know. maybe she’s just funky and likes to do weird shit when she draws. maybe she draws her sona differently from how she really looks.

i WILL say, though, that if her hair were black she likely would have drawn it with the black colour she clearly has. so maybe her hair is brown! we really don’t know. but i would say it is probably dark, considering kid’s drawings.

in kid’s drawings, her hair COULD have had colour in it (unlike bubby’s, which is just lines), but instead was filled with black. this choice, contrasting the blond and white hair of deklin and dangerpain, implies to me that her hair is dark.

also, kid seems to be the better artist of the two, and adds way more colours to his work, including a shade of grey-brown to mr. d’s desk. so he likely could have coloured tina’s hair brown if he wanted… but chose not to. he didn’t make it blonde or white either, despite clearly having such an array of colours at his disposal.

so i personally think her hair is black.

[marmotish]

Buffy the Vampire AU

Freyja as Buffy

-?- as Angel (Now…part of me wants to say Chester…..bc that same part of me wants to see him also as Angelus. Let us see badboy sexified Chester! And let his normal self be completely embarrassed by this side 🤣)

-?- as Spike (Rodger or Jae are equally hilarious options)

Tonks or Tulip or Rowan as Willow?

Mad eye as Giles?

Barnaby as…..Idk who the other guy is (attempted to look him up but then went down a rabbit hole doomscrolling for two hours so nvm)

Everything here is cursed x

new female student with a reputation for being a weirdo delinquent makes friends with a himbo and a nerd, who both then get involved in her fight against dark forces? 🙂‍↕️

Ok but REALLY

Having Chester, the most strait-laced guy on the face of the planet as Angel?? I mean yes the dude is pale af even for a Brit, but to picture him as a cursed angsty tortured vampire with an evil side was so fcking funny to me 😂

Tbh I initially thought Roger would be a somewhat better fit as Spike, but then the thought of short-ass Jae in the role instead was just too good not to draw. And I haven’t drawn Jae in a while, so I let him be the little hater he was born to be. Only blond… 😨

Rowan as Willow and Barnaby as Xander was easy, and probably the closest character fits of anyone here, but even they’re not 100%.

Age wise, I reckon Moody would be best as Giles even if the personality is COMPLETELY different 😅

Even though Freyja has a very different personality from B.uffy, (she’s probably closer to the AU B.uffy that never came to Sunnydale tbh), they both share the tendency to avoid confiding in others, a cursed love life, the fear that they’re secretly resented by their dad, they both ran away at age 17…