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fatecantstopme · 3 months ago

Note

Hello! How are you today? I hope you are doing well today! I have read your stories well mostly of Dean and I fall in love with them! Your stories are just French kisses!! I was wondering if you are okay the the idea or available in Season 10 ep 1-3 Dean is the knight of hell but instead of Sam who found him, it has his wife or fiance reader? He doesn't harm her at all but all he wants to do is trap her and rail her all long day and night he willingly goes with her to the bunker. Something like that, I'm very sorry if it's accurate could it but smut and fluff if it's okay with you? If not that okie! Don't worry! I love your stories and Keep up on doing what you do best! Thank you and have a wonderful day!!

OMG STAHHHP. You're so sweet. I'm glad you like my writing--I love doing it! AND I LOVE THIS ASK SO FREAKING MUCH. I love you for giving me the opportunity to write Dean in the most dominating, degrading, aggressive way possible without feeling bad for making him like that. I love my soft!dom Dean...but I am so freaking into this...HOPE YOU LOVE IT!

Fiend

Pairing: Demon!Dean Winchester x wife!reader

Summary: I mean...just read the lovely anon's request. So gooooood.

Warnings: An unnecessary amount of SMUT, unprotected sex (P in V), choking, slight degradation, rough sex, oral (M & F receiving), face sitting, orgasm denial, Dean is very dominant. Cursing, canon violence, Mark of Cain bloodlust, use of pet names, slight domestic violence.

A/N: I 100% went overboard on this one and I have no regrets. Fair warning, it's insanely long. It doesn't follow the season 10 storyline perfectly, but we've got the core elements.

"Are you sure about this?" you asked softly.

Sam stared at you, a familiar dark expression on his face. "Do you want to find him or not?"

You closed your eyes and sighed quietly. Of course you did, but you didn't want to lose who you were along the way. "You know I do, but torture's not exactly my thing."

"It's a demon."

"Wearing an innocent woman."

"Fine. You stay out here, then."

You watched Sam enter the dungeon, clearly prepared to do whatever it took to find his brother. The first scream echoed through the hallway and straight into your chest like a knife. You couldn't stay there--didn't wanna hear what happened next.

You went as far away as you could, walking past the bedroom you hadn't entered since the night he'd died. Sam had been the one to discover he was gone--Sam had been the one who found his note. You'd cried yourself to sleep on the couch in the library, heart too broken to even move.

The next morning, you woke to Sam's shouts of your name, but nothing would prepare you for what happened next. Sam's frightened eyes met yours and all he said was "He's gone," before handing you a note.

It was Dean's handwriting. You were sure of it. All it said was "(Y/N), Sammy, let me go."

That was six weeks ago.

Simple as the request was, it wasn't something either you or Sam could do, nor could Castiel. The three of you loved that man too much to just let him go.

At this point, all you knew was Dean was gone and Crowley was with him. Dean's handwriting on the note was the only indicator he wasn't dead...but you'd watched him die. You'd held him in your arms. The only possible answer was that Crowley had gotten a demon to possess Dean's body and rode off into the sunset with him. What you didn't know was why.

**********

Torturing the demon hadn't exactly proven fruitful, but Sam did manage to find a case he thought was connected to Dean. He was convinced the death of a man named Drew Neely was related to demons--and possibly to the missing Winchester.

While it seemed like quite a stretch to you, you were willing to go with him to Wisconsin and find out what happened.

As per usual, you and Sam pretended to be FBI to get inside information on the investigation. Much to your surprise, when the local PD showed you and Sam security footage from the gas station where Drew Neely was murdered, you saw a very familiar face.

You'd know him anywhere--Dean Winchester, seemingly alive and well, being attacked by Drew Neely. You watched as Dean pulled the First Blade from inside his jacket and stabbed Neely repeatedly. As the other man died violently, you watched in horror as Dean's normally beautiful green eyes turned black as night.

You looked up at Sam, whose expression matched your own. It looked like Sam's suspicions were correct--Dean was in fact possessed by a demon. Your only thought was saving him, even though you knew you'd really only be saving his body. You'd be damned if you let some demon scum ride around in Dean's body forever.

When you left the station, Sam turned to you, eyes full of a mixture of sorrow and anger. "Wanna go to the gas station? See if there's anything there?"

You nodded, still a little too upset to do much talking. Sam placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. He knew full-well how difficult this whole thing was for you. This wasn't Sam's first experience with his brother's death, but it was a first for you. He could tell the loss was killing you slowly, especially with Dean's body being defiled by some demon asshole.

When you arrived at the gas station, you were both surprised when the clerk handed you Neely's phone. You wondered why he hadn't given it over to the police, but at the moment, you couldn't be bothered to care. You wanted answers and this phone might be the key.

"There's a text from a number not saved in the contacts," Sam said as he scrolled through the phone's contents.

You leaned forward to look at the screen. "An Abbadon loyalist," you mumbled. "Lovely. But who the hell told Neely Dean was even here?"

Sam shrugged as he pressed the call button, dialing the number on the screen. "Only one way to find out."

When the voice on the other end of the phone answered, the rage that had been simmering inside of you for 6 weeks finally overflowed. "Crowley, you son of a bitch!" you yelled.

The chuckle on the other end did nothing to ease your anger. "Well hello (Y/N). I was wondering when I'd hear from you. Can I assume your avenging Moose is there too?"

You were about to tear into Crowley, but Sam placed a firm hand on your shoulder and shook his head. You clamped your mouth shut so tightly your jaw began to ache.

"Where the hell is my brother, you son of a bitch?"

"Maybe if you were nicer to me, I'd help you."

"Why don't you just start by telling us why you sent an Abbadon loyalist after Dean in the first place?" you growled.

"How else was I supposed to keep the bloodlust at bay? The Mark wants what the Mark wants."

You inhaled sharply, the ache in your chest intensifying at his words. Even in death, the damn Mark of Cain was still torturing Dean.

"Where are you?" Sam tried again.

"Oh please, Samuel, as if I'm going to tell you. Your brother and I are having a grand ol' time together. I quite like this version of him. I'm sure you and (Y/N) are jealous over our new relationship, but I simply can't be bothered to care."

"If Dean wasn't possessed, there's no way he'd be with you," you seethed.

Crowley's laughter echoed through the phone, sending cold shivers down your back. "You think he's possessed? That's not how the Mark works, sweetheart."

The condescension in his tone made you want to crawl through the phone and rip his throat out, but you managed to bite your tongue.

"The Mark twists the soul--darkening it with each kill--until all that remains is darkness," Crowley gloated. "So you see, Dean isn't possessed by a demon, he is one. Not just any demon either—a knight of hell."

You took a step back, suddenly feeling incredibly nauseous. Out of all the scenarios that had run through your mind when Dean went missing, this wasn't one of them. There was no worse way to dishonor his memory--his legacy--than this.

You vaguely heard Sam yelling into the phone, but your mind was spinning too quickly for you to comprehend a single word. Your entire world had just been tipped on its head and you weren't sure how to find solid ground again.

You doubled over, breath coming out in painful heaves. Bile rose in the back of your throat and you found yourself hurling the limited amount of food you'd eaten all over the sidewalk.

You felt Sam's strong, comforting hand on your back as he tried to calm you. After several more dry heaves, you managed to stand back up, eyes bloodshot from the exertion.

Sam's gaze was gentle, but you could see the pain in his eyes. As much as you loved Dean, you knew Sam loved him just as much. You couldn't afford to break down now--not when the two people you loved most in this world needed you.

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

"No need to apologize, (Y/N/N). This is a lot to take in."

You simply nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.

"I think I know how to find them."

Your head snapped up, meeting Sam's gaze with hope for the first time in weeks. "How?"

"I think I can track Crowley's phone."

You shot Sam a weak grin. "Thank god you're a genius. Let's go."

Before heading to Crowley's last known location, you and Sam discussed your findings thus far. You now knew Dean wasn't technically dead--which meant there was a slight chance you could use the ritual you'd tried on Crowley over a year ago.

There was a chance you could make Dean human again--and it was a risk you were more than willing to make. Knowing Dean was still in there--still alive--made you more reckless than you'd ever been. You were determined to bring him home, no matter the cost.

**********

You and Sam decided to split up, determining you had more of a shot at bringing Dean home that way. Sam went one route and you went the other, stealing a car to make your journey.

You didn’t realize it, but this decision would result in a cascade of events that would put you right in the crosshairs of the demon your husband had become—alone.

As you sped along the dark highway towards the Black Spur, you were left with nothing to do but listen to the thoughts swirling around your mind. Without Sam there to keep you occupied, your inner turmoil had begun to rear its ugly head.

Out of all the things you’d expected to happen when Dean died, becoming a demon had not been among them. Being possessed was one thing—being a demon was another thing entirely.

You knew exactly how Dean would feel about it, if he’d actually had the ability to feel, and it broke your heart. He was the strongest man you’d ever known, but this would break him. Even worse, you couldn’t even begin to imagine what you would feel when you found him.

You loved Dean Winchester with every part of your soul. He was your best friend, your lover, your partner, your husband. He was the man who never failed to make you laugh or bring a smile to your face. He held you when you cried, took care of you when you were hurt, and made love to you like you were the only thing tethering him to earth. But you knew that man was gone—all that remained was the beautiful body that once held the most incredible soul you’d ever known.

You felt the tears well up in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Crying wouldn’t fix things and you’d done more than enough of that in the last month. Instead, you focused on what you were going to do when you found Dean.

You had no idea how you were going to convince him to come back to the bunker with you. You weren’t even sure he wouldn’t kill you if you tried to force him. You’d come prepared, but you would die before killing him. End of the day, he was Dean—somewhere inside him was the man you loved.

Part of you hoped Sammy would get there first—that he’d be the one to find Dean. Then he’d be faced with the decision of what to do next, sparing you the pain. You knew that wasn’t fair, but if you were being honest, you didn’t trust yourself to do this alone. One single look at his face could very well be your undoing.

You sighed quietly and glanced at your GPS. Only a couple hours to go before you would find out for yourself.

Unbeknownst to you, Sam had managed to get himself kidnapped when his car broke down on the way to the Black Spur, which meant he most definitely would not be beating you there. Unfortunately for you, that meant confronting Dean would be entirely on your shoulders--a weight you certainly didn't wish to carry.

**********

A few hours later, you arrived at the Black Spur, unsurprised and maybe a bit relieved to see that Dean was no longer there. You talked to the bouncer Dean had beat the shit out of the night before, so you knew you weren't very far behind him.

What you didn't know was Crowley and Dean had a rather intense falling out due to Dean's ever-growing aggressive behavior and complete and utter lack of respect for Crowley.

After leaving the Black Spur, you decided to stop at a motel, get some sleep, and wait for Sam. You'd tried calling him to no avail and you were starting to worry, but you knew Sam could take care of himself.

You'd just managed to fall asleep when your phone rang. It was Sam.

"Everything alright?" you asked.

"Got kidnapped by some guy named Cole."

"Sorry, what?"

"Apparently Dean killed his dad when he was a teenager and now he wants revenge. He kidnapped me hoping I would tell him where Dean was. He admitted he was trying to get us both, but he hadn't expected us to split up."

"Great. Just what we need. Some random human hunting the best hunter-turned-demon in history."

Sam sighed his agreement. "Cole called Dean...and he actually answered."

"What?!"

"Told him he'd kill me if Dean didn't give himself up."

You paused for a moment, breath caught in your chest. "And?"

"He refused. Told Cole he'd given me explicit instructions to let him go--and it was my fault for not listening to him," Sam said with a huff. "Then he told Cole if he killed me, he'd hunt him down and kill him."

You chuckled dryly. "That actually sounds like Dean."

Sam chuckled softly with you. "Yeah...it does."

You could hear the sorrow in his voice and you knew it matched your own. Seeing even the slightest sliver of your Dean in this demon version was beyond painful.

"I managed to get away while he was distracted. I'm on my way to the Black Spur now," Sam said after a few moments.

"He's not here. I've looked."

You could almost hear Sam's chest deflate as the hope left him. "Any sign of where they might've gone next?"

"No," you answered softly. "And Crowley turned his damn phone off."

Sam sighed heavily. "We'll find him, (Y/N)."

You wanted to believe him--wanted to have that kind of faith, but you'd lost steam. There wasn't a trail to follow, and even if there was, you weren't sure you should follow it. Dean had left Sam to die all because he'd ignored Dean's instructions. What would he do to you if you found him?

You ignored the tightening in your chest, pushing down your emotions as deeply as you could before wrapping up your call. You told Sam what motel you were in and that you'd see him in a couple hours.

You'd just laid back down when there was a knock at your door. You grabbed your gun and slipped an angel blade into the waistband of your pants before moving towards the door. When you looked through the peephole, your eyes nearly popped out of your skull.

You ripped open the door with surprising force, angel blade pointing at the visitor's throat.

"Watch where you're pointing that thing," Crowley grumbled.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you right now."

"Because I know where your husband is."

Your expression softened slightly, but the blade remained pressed to his neck. "Are you going to tell me or do I need to beat it out of you."

Crowley laughed mirthlessly. "Oh please, (Y/N). We all know you aren't capable of torture."

He was right, of course, but you would never admit it. Instead, you narrowed your eyes and pressed the blade a little more firmly into his skin.

The demon winced and threw up his hands in surrender. "Fine! I'll tell you. Just put that thing down."

You remained still for a moment before stepping back and allowing him entry into your room. You closed the door behind him, keeping the blade securely in your hand. "Talk."

"It's more that I know how to find him and less that I know where he is."

You clenched your jaw, feeling the simmering rage begin to boil. "This entire thing is your fault, Crowley, so if you want to stay alive, I suggest you speak plainly."

"We're not exactly on good terms at the moment."

Your eyes scanned his face and a small smirk appeared on yours. "He get tired of you?"

Crowley's eyes narrowed. "We had a disagreement over how to handle his bloodlust. Plus, he's even more arrogant than he was as a human."

Your heart clenched at the word 'bloodlust'. You'd hoped it had subsided in his death, but that damn Mark wouldn't quit until it took every last vestige of humanity left in Dean.

"Fine, so he left your ass in the dust. How do you plan to find him?"

"I have several demons watching his every move. I can't have him making too much of a mess. His type of chaos is bad for business."

"Then make a call and tell me where he is."

"Happily," Crowley paused. "On one condition."

"There it is," you grumbled.

"It's a simple request, really. All I want in return is the First Blade."

"Why?"

"I have my reasons, and I'm quite certain you don't want it in Dean's hands."

You thought about it for a few moments. "If you screw me over, I will burn your sordid kingdom to the ground around you before killing you in the most painful way possible."

Crowley almost seemed impressed. "I think you've spent a little too much time with Dean."

"Not nearly enough," you mumbled under your breath. "Do we have an understanding?"

"I tell you where to find Dean, you give me the Blade."

"You take me to Dean, I give you the Blade," you countered.

A look of fear flashed across his face. "I'd really rather not."

"I don't give a damn. You made this mess, so you're gonna help us out of it."

Crowley sighed. "Fine."

You grabbed your phone off the nightstand, but Crowley interrupted you before you could dial.

"What are you doing?"

"Calling Sam."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why the hell not?"

"You will have better luck persuading Dean than Sam will. You've never once betrayed Dean--never let him down. Sam cannot say the same. As such, it's likely Dean will be more likely to have a soft spot for you, even now."

You contemplated his words for several moments, before shaking your head. "Sam's his brother. He needs to know."

Crowley snapped his fingers, sending your phone flying across the room and into the wall with shocking speed, shattering it instantly.

"You son of a bitch!"

"You want my help? We go alone. Sam can catch up."

You glared at him in annoyance, before sighing quietly. "Fine. But I'm driving."

**********

"A piano bar?" you asked in surprise as you parked across the street.

"That's what they said."

Your eyes scanned the street before landing on a familiar black Chevy Impala. Your heart skipped a beat, knowing you were about to come face to face with your worst nightmare.

Crowley's gaze followed yours and he hummed quietly. "As I said, he's here."

"Get out," you hissed. "You're coming in too."

"Pardon?"

"Do you want the Blade, Crowley? Then get out of the damn car."

He huffed, but did as you said. You gestured for him to walk ahead of you, effectively blocking you from sight from the inside of the bar.

The moment Crowley entered, Dean felt his presence. "Didn't expect you to come back," he stated as he sipped some whiskey.

Hearing his voice sent a wave of emotion through your body, having not heard it in weeks.

Dean seemed to realize Crowley wasn't alone and you heard him inhale deeply. "I'd know that scent anywhere." He finally turned around to face the two of you. "(Y/N)."

"Hello Dean," you said softly, a slight blush dusting your cheeks. The idea he could smell you from several feet away was both a reminder of who he'd become, and an uncomfortable turn-on.

Dean glared at Crowley, realizing he had given his location up. Before he could say anything to him, you stepped forward, causing Dean's gaze to snap back to you.

"I suggest you run before I rip your heart out and feed it to you," you growled under your breath, not sparing another look in Crowley’s direction.

Crowley immediately stepped back, exiting the bar as quickly as possible.

"I didn't think you'd be foolish enough to work with Crowley," Dean said lowly.

"Means to an end."

"Hmm." He took a long drink of his whiskey before placing the empty glass on the counter. "I'm surprised you're here alone."

"Glad you asked--Sam's fine. No thanks to you."

Dean's eyes narrowed and he stood up, taking a step towards you. "I gave both of you very explicit instructions to let me go. What happens to you when you disobey is not my fault."

You inhaled sharply, body reacting to his words without approval from your brain. You clenched your jaw, trying to appear calmer than you felt.

Dean had always been extremely perceptive, and his demon abilities only heightened it. He took another predatory step towards you. "I can see your turmoil, sweetheart--you want me and you hate yourself for it."

You scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself--you're not Dean."

He laughed and the sound sent chills down your spine. "That's where you're wrong--I'm 100% Dean, just the new and improved version."

You felt a pang in your chest. "I'll have to disagree on the 'improved' part."

Dean started to slowly circle you, like a predator hunting his prey. "Aren't you the least bit curious, (Y/N)?" Each ring brought him closer and closer to you, until you could feel his body heat enveloping you. "Don't you want to know about all the things I can do now? All the ways I can wreck that pretty little body of yours?"

You felt his breath on the back of your neck--and you were embarrassed when your lips parted and your own breathing sped up.

"I can hear your heart racing, sweetheart." The pet name dripped with condescension--his voice low and gruff, barely above a growl. You felt a wave of arousal rush to your core, thighs rubbing together on instinct.

The movement didn't go unnoticed by Dean, who let out a dark chuckle. His lips brushed against your ear as he inhaled deeply. "I can smell how badly you want me, (Y/N)."

His hand gripped your hip tightly, pulling you back so you were flush against his front. You felt his hard length pressing into you through his jeans, a soft needy sound escaping your lips.

Suddenly he pulled away, leaving you feeling vulnerable and embarrassed. He might be wearing your husband's face, but he was a demon for christ's sake! You should be as far from turned on as humanly possible.

He came to a stop in front of you, close enough to touch you, but far enough to allow you some clarity. "I imagine you came here to talk me into coming home?"

You didn't bother to reply, it was obvious he could read you as well as he did as a human.

"If I'd wanted to be human again, I wouldn't have left. I'm as familiar with the cure as you are, sweetheart--and it's not worth it to me. I like who I am--I like being a demon. All that baggage I carried as a human? It's gone--I've never felt more free, (Y/N), and I'm not giving that up."

Much to Dean's surprise, your expression morphed into quiet understanding, eyes softening as you watched him closely. He felt uncomfortable under your gaze, so he flashed his eyes black in an attempt to regain control of the situation.

You winced slightly, hating seeing those demon eyes obscuring the brilliant green you loved so much. Your expression, however, remained soft. "Your life wasn't easy," you murmured gently. "There was a lot of heartbreak, pain, and loss...not to mention the weight of the entire world on your shoulders for most of your adult life. I can understand why you'd prefer this...you no longer have to give a damn."

Dean wanted to be annoyed--he wanted to be angry, his need for control surging inside him. Instead, he found himself stepping closer to you again--drawn to your soft eyes and sweet expression. Somewhere deep inside, emotions began to stir.

What had once been a deep, unending love for you, had turned to a lust so powerful, it threatened to devour you both. His eyes turned back to green, but the irises were barely visible around his widened pupils. His gaze was hungry, the predatory look having returned with a vengeance.

"How 'bout we go back to my room?" he purred lowly.

You knew you should say no--you shouldn't go anywhere alone with him, but you couldn't bring yourself to deny him.

"Are you afraid of me, (Y/N)?"

"You're a knight of hell," you whispered. "I'd have to be a fool not to be."

He smirked coldly. "Do you think I'm going to hurt you, sweetheart?"

Despite the darkness within him--despite what he had become--you believed in your heart he would never hurt you.

"No," you murmured honestly.

His smirk widened, rough fingers reaching out to grip your jaw tightly. "Oh I will hurt you, baby--but only in the ways you like."

You inhaled sharply, a wave of arousal dampening your panties even further. Your lips parted slightly, eyes never leaving his.

"You're coming with me," he growled possessively, hand gripping your wrist tightly as he dragged you to the door.

He pulled you roughly out onto the sidewalk and practically dragged you to the Impala, pulling the door open and shoving you into the passenger seat.

His aggression was a turn-on, none of his actions thus far having hurt you. You were certain you'd have bruising on your wrist from where he grabbed you, but you were completely fine with it.

He drove in silence at a speed that sent little waves of terror through you. The hotel he was staying at wasn't far, but he still made it there in record time. It was a much nicer place than the ones you usually stayed in, but you weren't surprised that Dean's tastes had become a little more bougie.

He dragged you into the elevator, pulling your back flush against his chest, hands gripping your upper arms like iron vices. You squirmed slightly and he let out a low growl, grip tightening.

"You move like that again and I'm gonna fuck you in this damn elevator," he hissed.

Part of you was into it, but you also didn't want to get caught fucking your demon husband in a public elevator. So you remained as still as possible until the doors opened on his floor and he pulled you down the hall to his room.

Once inside, Dean slammed the door with force, pinning you up against it so your cheek was pressed into it. His body was molded up against yours and his hot breath fanned across your neck. You felt his teeth scrape your pulse point, earning a low moan from you.

"You have one chance to get out of this," he growled. "One chance to say no and walk away before I fucking devour you."

If you'd had any sense, you would have ran away and never looked back, but you were already too far gone. He might not be the Dean you married, but he was still Dean--just the much darker, much wilder version.

"Fuck me, Dean," you begged softly.

He groaned lowly. "Oh I'm gonna do so much more than that sweetheart."

He ground his bulge into your back and bit into the soft flesh in the crook of your neck, causing you to whimper slightly.

"Wanna know the best part about being a demon?" he purred in your ear as he tugged your head back by your hair so he could see your eyes.

You nodded your head as best you could and waited for him to continue.

"I can have multiple orgasms and I've got the stamina of a god," he murmured. "I can fuck you all night long if I want to--and damnit I want to."

He spun you around quickly, slamming you against the wall beside the door. His lips were on yours immediately, tongue invading your mouth before you could even process what was happening.

You whimpered softly as his lips left yours and he began to kiss and nip his way across your jaw, down your throat, and to your collarbone. He wasn't being gentle, but you still found yourself wanting more--needing more.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, unused to the longer locks. It gave you more to grab, giving you a firmer grip on his head--and you loved it. If the groan that left Dean's mouth was any indication, he loved it too.

You felt his hands grasping at the front of your shirt before ripping it right in half. You yelped in surprise, but he ignored you, instead grabbing the edges of your bra and tugging them down to reveal your breasts.

"Oh, I missed these," Dean murmured before leaning back down to pull your nipple into his mouth. He used both hands to massage your breasts harshly, fingertips pinching at your exposed nipple while he nipped and sucked on the other.

You were panting heavily--almost to an embarrassing degree given how little this man had actually done to you. You found yourself falling into a familiar role with him, though he was much rougher than you were accustomed to.

When he switched to suck on your other breast, he slipped one hand down your stomach to the top of your jeans. He unfastened them easily before sliding his hand into them to cup your very wet pussy.

You felt Dean's smirk against your breast a moment before he lifted his head to look at your face. "Your panties are soaked," he groaned. "How long have you been thinking about me fucking you senseless?"

Your eyes weren't entirely focused on him and you didn't respond right away, so he grabbed your chin tightly, forcing you to meet his gaze. "You respond when I ask you a question."

You gasped softly before whimpering out an answer, "Since I saw you in the bar."

He gave you a look clearly indicating his disbelief. "Really?" His fingers pressed more firmly against your pussy, brushing against your clit purposefully. He ignored your soft moan, but you saw the smirk in his eyes. "You didn't imagine me fucking you while you played with your pretty pussy? Don't lie to me, sweetheart, I know you can't go almost 2 months without an orgasm."

You shook your head, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of your honest response.

His eyes flashed black and your heart leapt into your throat, a surge of fear sweeping through you. "Don't be a brat, (Y/N)," he growled. "You know what will happen."

Under normal circumstances, you'd play into the bratty role--it always got Dean riled up. But this wasn't a normal situation and he wasn't the normal Dean. Dean had always been a very loving and affectionate dom, but you knew demon Dean was about as far from loving and affectionate as one could be. You didn't want to see exactly how far he'd go if you pushed his buttons.

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

"Answer my question."

"I did imagine you," you said so softly he almost didn't hear you.

He pretended to have missed your words and he leaned in closer. "What was that? I couldn't quite hear you."

"I imagined you," you said again, slightly louder.

"I know." He simultaneously bit into your neck and rubbed his fingers against your clothed clit, eliciting a wanton moan from your lips.

"There are lots of women in this world that'll fall right into my bed with a single look from me, but not a single one has a pussy like yours. Been dreamin' of it for weeks."

His words hurt you, but you pushed those feelings aside and tried to focus on the positive of the backhanded compliment he'd just given you.

He suddenly stepped back, leaving you completely untethered and weaker than you'd expected. Had the wall not been right behind you, you'd be on the floor right now.

His eyes roamed your disheveled body hungrily, possessively. He backed up towards the bed, taking off his shirt as he went. He sat down on the edge, eyes still glued to your body. "Come here."

You did as he asked, too afraid to disobey him.

"Strip."

You started to remove your clothes quickly, but his gravelly voice stopped you. "Slower."

You very slowly removed each article of clothing until you were completely bare. While you'd been naked hundreds of times in front of Dean, this time was different. You felt self-conscious under his hard gaze, afraid he wouldn't like what he saw.

He seemed to sense your discomfort, and to your surprise he assuaged it instantly. "Becoming a demon didn't make me stop loving that body of yours, sweetheart. It's still my favorite thing in the world."

You relaxed instantly, feeling pleased that he liked your body so much. A soft voice in the back of your mind pointed out he'd said your body was his favorite, not you--but you pushed that thought aside for the sake of your heart.

He spread his legs wide and leaned back on his hands, appreciative gaze roaming your exposed flesh. "Now, show me how you like your pretty pussy to be touched."

You bit your lip, keeping your eyes locked on his face as you slid one hand to your breasts and the other to your aching pussy. Dean's eyes watched as you slipped your fingers between your folds, a soft gasp escaping your lips.

You toyed with your clit gently, little moans and whimpers filling the room. You watched as Dean removed his belt and stood up to take off his jeans and underwear. When you finally got a good view of his cock you moaned a little louder, and his eyes flicked up to your face. He smirked when he realized what had caused that noise to come out of your mouth.

He stepped towards you, gripping his large cock firmly in his dominant hand, stroking it slowly. Your own hand had slowed nearly to a stop, but Dean wouldn't have any of that. "Did I say you could stop?"

You quickly sped back up, wanting to please him with an unhealthy level of desperation.

"You're such a good girl for me. My little slut," he said lowly. "Saw the way you looked at my cock, baby--bet you want it in your mouth."

You nodded rapidly.

He leaned forward and brushed his lips against yours. "On your knees."

You dropped to your knees instantly, ready and willing to give him want he asked for.

"Open your mouth. Now."

Your mouth opened obediently, waiting for his next move.

"You gonna let me fuck that pretty mouth of yours?"

You nodded eagerly.

"So fucking sexy like this," he murmured. "Gonna make you choke on my cock."

He gave no further warning before grabbing the back of your head and tugging you down onto his cock. You gagged as his large member slammed into the back of your throat, a burning sensation accompanying it.

His hips moved rapidly as he fucked your face harshly--it was as if you were an inanimate object, only there to give him pleasure.

This level of roughness was new for you, and you were surprised to find how much you were enjoying it. Your eyes watered, spit dribbled down your jaw, and your pussy dripped.

The ache was almost unbearable, so you slipped a hand between your legs to provide yourself some relief.

Dean's observant gaze saw the action and he grinned. "Such a dirty little slut aren't you? Getting off on sucking my cock."

You moaned around him, pulling a surprised groan from deep in his throat. He gripped your head tighter, thrusts speeding up. "Fuck--love this mouth," he ground out.

The force of his thrusts made you pause your own ministrations, attention focused solely on the intensity of his motions. You gripped his strong thighs tightly, nails digging into the soft flesh.

"Oh fuck yes--gonna cum in this sweet little mouth, baby."

You moaned in response.

"Yeah? You want that? Want me to cum down your throat?"

You moaned again and tried to nod.

"How could I deny my little slut?" His grip tightened even further on your head, pulling your hair painfully. With one final thrust, he spilled his load into your mouth, hot ropes of cum filling your throat.

You swallowed every drop he gave you, knowing he'd certainly punish you if even a single drop left your mouth.

Even Dean had to admit, he hadn't had an orgasm that good since he'd become a demon--and watching you swallow all of his cum like that had him wanting more. "Greedy, are we?"

You licked your lips as you looked up at him. "I can't help it. You just taste so good."

He was taken aback by your statement, cock twitching in response. Perks of being a demon, he thought to himself. Already ready for round two. "On the bed, feet off the end."

You got up and laid down on the bed, face up. You weren't moving quickly enough for Dean, so he grabbed your ankles and roughly pulled you towards him. Your ass was now hanging off the bed slightly and your pussy was at the perfect height for him to enjoy from his knees.

There was something incredibly thrilling about seeing Dean on his knees for you. While it wasn't the first time, you doubted demon Dean was the kind of man who'd get on his knees for anyone.

"Now I'm gonna eat this pretty pussy of yours until I get my fill, understand? If you try to stop me, you will be punished."

"Yes, Dean."

"Good girl," he mumbled. He spread your legs as wide as they would go and breathed deeply. He licked his lips subconsciously before diving into you.

As always, Dean knew exactly what to do to drive you wild--he'd learned how to read your body years ago. His tongue felt incredible, large and flat, licking from the bottom of your pussy to the top, giving your clit a gentle flick, then repeating.

You shifted your hips, trying to get him to speed up, which he ignored. Instead, he laid his arm across your lower belly, holding you in place so he could continue his work.

After several more moments of this agonizing pace, he finally relented, lips wrapping around your clit to suck it into his mouth. You cried out in pleasure, legs already beginning to shake.

His motions were rhythmic, sucking your clit and licking it intermittently, as if he couldn't decide which one he preferred. As your moans grew in intensity, he knew you were getting closer. He had plans for you this evening--and your first orgasm of the night was going to be from his mouth and nothing else.

Your fingers had tangled in his hair and you were desperately trying to grind yourself against his face, but his arm prevented you from moving. He switched to focus all of his attention on your clit, sucking it into his mouth and flicking it with his tongue at an insane rate of speed.

You cried out as you came, the orgasm breathtaking in its intensity and pleasure. Dean worked you through the high, but didn't make any signs of stopping.

You remembered his words from earlier, so you kept your mouth shut even though the sensitivity was overwhelming.

When he felt your body begin to relax and the soft moans began to leave your lips again, he slowed his pace way down. He wanted to take his time now, enjoying your taste and the sweet sounds you made for him.

He slid two of his fingers into you, pressing gently against your g-spot before sliding them back out. His tongue laved at your clit, moans of his own giving it the slightest vibrations.

When your pussy started clenching tightly around his fingers and your breathing had become more labored, he sped up. He sucked and licked at your clit, nipping ever so gently at the hood, causing you to yelp softly.

Your fingers had once again found their way to his hair and you were holding on for dear life. You felt your orgasm building--it was so close. You voiced as much to Dean, even though he was already very aware.

You were just about to reach your peak when Dean suddenly slowed down--to an agonizingly slow pace.

"No, no, no--please!" you begged.

Dean ignored your pleas, opting to focus on his activities instead. He sped up just a tiny bit, building your orgasm back up.

The louder your moans became, the faster Dean went. Your orgasm was approaching once again and you begged Dean not to stop.

You were a second away from your orgasm when Dean once again slowed his motions. You cried out in anguish as the blissful feeling faded away.

"Please, Dean," you whimpered.

He lifted his head slightly, fingers still moving very slowly against your g-spot. "I'm not done with this pussy yet. Tastes too good for me to stop."

"But I need to cum," you cried.

"You'll cum when I let you cum," he said harshly.

His mouth dropped back to your pussy, focus once again on enjoying his feast.

Dean did this two more times--denying you an orgasm mere seconds before one was to occur. By this point, you were crying and begging him to just let you cum--you couldn't stand the ache any longer.

Dean decided he had listened to your babbling pleas for long enough. He pulled away from you, leaving you whimpering shamefully.

Dean laid down on the bed beside you. "Get up here. I'm not finished yet."

You were confused, so you didn't move fast enough for him. He smacked your breast harshly and you yelped in pain.

"I said, get up here. Now."

"I don't understand," you whimpered.

Dean sighed in exasperation. "Sit on my face so I can eat you properly."

It's not like you hadn't done this with him before. It was something you'd always known Dean enjoyed, but your brain was so fuzzy with need, it hadn't even crossed your mind.

You pulled yourself up and straddled his head. He didn't wait for you to sit down, he simply grabbed your hips and tugged you down to his waiting mouth.

You moaned in pleasure instantly, the sound spurring him on. He knew you were in for an incredibly intense orgasm and he was dying to taste it--to feel you coat his mouth and face with your sweet juices.

He had you on the brink in an embarrassingly short amount of time, but you couldn't be bothered to feel any shame. You were grinding down on his face, using him for your own pleasure.

You prayed he wouldn't stop this time--the need to cum so overwhelming it was painful. You were gripping onto the headboard for support as you rode his face, moans slowly rising in pitch as you neared climax.

Dean's fingers dug into your upper thighs and hips so tightly there were sure to be bruises. He could tell you were close, so he sped up his motions, desperate for you to cum.

"Dean--I-I'm gonna--"

You finally came with a scream of his name--the sound so loud it likely woke the entire hotel. Your legs shook violently, the pleasure so blinding you nearly blacked out.

It wasn't until you felt someone lifting you and laying you on your back that you started to become aware of your surroundings again.

Dean watched you, a satisfied smirk on his handsome face. He reached out and brushed your hair from your face where it had stuck to your sweaty skin. It was an oddly affectionate gesture for a demon.

He waited patiently for you to re-acclimate to your surroundings--come back down to earth, as it were. When your pretty (y/e/c) eyes met his, you smiled, forgetting for a moment that he was anything but the man you loved.

"That was...in-incredible," you mumbled breathlessly.

He grinned. "Happy to be of service."

You smiled in return, taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm your racing heart.

Dean crawled on top of you, arms on either side of your body, ensuring you couldn't get away. "I'm no where near done with you yet."

"You give me another orgasm like that and you just might kill me."

He grinned wolfishly, eyes darkening with lust. "Oh sweetheart...you have no idea what I could do to you."

You weren't sure if it was a threat or a promise, but you were incredibly turned-on by it. Dean could see the rapid rise and fall of your chest beneath him...and he knew his words had the desired effect.

He grabbed his cock and rubbed it very gently between your folds. You inhaled sharply at the sensation.

"Do you want my cock?"

You nodded rapidly.

"Come on baby, I wanna hear you say it."

"I want your cock."

"Good girl," he murmured, repeating his earlier motion. "Now beg for it."

Your eyes widened and he gave you a warning look. You knew you had to beg or else. "I want your cock so badly."

"Mhmm."

"I need it."

"Keep going."

"I...I wanna feel you inside me."

"Come on, sweetheart," he chided. "I know you can do better than that."

"I want you to fuck me, Dean. Please--I need you."

He slipped the tip of his cock into you and you whimpered softly. "Give me a little more, baby."

"I want you to fuck me so hard I forget my own name," you begged. "I'll be so good for you--I promise."

He plunged into you without warning, sheathing himself deep in your warm, wet heat. "That's my good girl," he moaned.

He started to move slowly, in and out, each direction painfully slow. "My god have I missed this pussy," he said as if to himself.

You whined beneath him, hoping he'd get the hint and pick up the pace.

He looked down at your needy expression and smirked. "Patience, baby. I'll make those knees weak--don't you worry."

He leaned down to kiss you roughly, one hand tangling in your hair, pulling your head back slightly as he deepened the kiss. His thrusts started to speed up, matching the pace he'd set with his tongue in your mouth.

After several moments, he pulled himself up, grabbing your legs and putting one on each side of his head. The new position allowed him to hit that spot so deep inside you, you'd thought it was a myth until you met him.

He began to piston in and out of you, each thrust hard and fast. Each time he'd pull almost all the way out slowly before slamming back into you with force--cock brushing up against your cervix with each thrust.

It didn't take long before you were a whimpering, moaning mess beneath him. He loved seeing how fucked out you were--knowing that it was all because of him.

"Whose pussy is this?"

Your eyes shot open. "Yours!" you gasped.

"That's right, baby. Mine," he growled. "No one gets to touch you like this but me."

"No one," you confirmed breathlessly.

His eyes flashed black. "I'll kill anyone who even looks at you like he wants to fuck you."

You inhaled sharply. Dean had always been a very protective man--possessive even--but this was a whole new level. You had no doubt in your mind that he was completely serious. He would most certainly murder a man for daring to have so much as an unclean thought about you.

It probably shouldn't have turned you on, but it did--his possessive nature infinitely more intense now that he was a demon. Your pussy clenched down tightly around him, signaling how much you liked his words.

"That turns you on, huh? You like the thought of me owning you? Owning this pussy?"

"Yes!" you cried out as he continued to pound into you.

"Lucky for you, I'm never letting you go again," he growled. His thrusts were fast and hard, his focus on feeling you cum around his cock.

His words had an immediate effect on you, his possessiveness almost affectionate in that moment. It was exactly what you needed to fall over the edge with a low moan of his name.

"Fuck!" he groaned as he tried to maintain his speed. Your pussy was squeezing him so tightly he could barely move. "Jesus, baby--gotta stop squeezing me like that."

"Sorry," you whimpered, trying to relax your body.

Dean's hips began to move again and he leaned forward to kiss your jawline. "Don't apologize--not your fault this pussy feels so fuckin' good--made for me."

You gasped softly, skin flushing at his praise.

He pulled out of you without warning and roughly flipped you onto your stomach. His palm landed on your ass with a firm smack, causing you to jump slightly.

"Lift your hips," he ordered.

You did as he asked and he slid into you, immediately setting a brutal pace. He alternated between smacking your ass, pulling your hair, and gripping your hips so you couldn't move.

Your pussy pulsed and fluttered around his cock, the pleasure becoming unbearable. "Dean--s-so close," you moaned.

"I know--you're squeezing me so tight," he replied through gritted teeth. "But don't you dare cum until I give you permission."

"But, I--"

He grabbed you by the hair, tugging you up so your back was pressed against his chest. He nipped at your ear and pressed his hand firmly against your neck--not enough to hurt you, but enough for you to know he could.

His voice was low and demanding when he spoke again, "Be a good girl for me, (Y/N), and I won't have to hurt you. But if you disobey me, I will take everything I want and give you nothing, do you understand?"

"Yes," you whispered breathily.

"Good." He released you suddenly, letting your body fall back onto the bed as he renewed his painful thrusts.

You used all of your concentration to focus on not cumming until he allowed you to, but the more time passed, the more painful it was not to orgasm.

"Dean, please--I-I can't t-take it," you cried.

"Yes you can, baby. You're already taking my cock so well."

"Ne-need to cum," you begged.

Dean thought about it for a moment and made a decision. His hips slowed and he leaned forward to speak close to your ear. "You can cum after I do."

You whimpered, head nodding your agreement.

Dean's hands gripped onto your hips, holding them in place as he pistoned in and out of you, chasing his own high. He heard your desperate whimpers and felt your pussy spasming around him, but all he cared about was his release.

His hips began to falter as pleasure licked up his spine moments before he came with a guttural groan, spilling his seed deep inside you.

The moment you felt his cum begin to fill you up, your own orgasm crashed into you, making you cry out in pleasure.

Dean worked you through your high before pulling out of you and letting you collapse on the bed. His large body hovered over yours as he pressed kisses into your heated skin.

His cock was still throbbing with need, despite having just had an incredible orgasm. He knew you were exhausted, but he hadn't had his fill of you yet.

He rolled you back over and slid inside of you, slowly bottoming out with a breathless moan. You whimpered at the sensation, pussy too sensitive and overstimulated for another round.

"No--no more, Dean, please."

"I warned you, sweetheart...told you I wanted to fuck you all night."

"It--it's too much."

He slowly slid out of you and slowly slid back in. "I know you can take it."

You shook your head. "I can't--"

Dean grabbed your wrists and pulled them over your head, holding them tightly in place with one hand. The motion forced him lower, making his body weight press firmly against you.

His lips brushed against yours and his voice was almost pained when he whispered, "I'll be gentle."

You saw the need in his mossy green eyes and your resolve crumbled. You supposed you could allow him at least one more orgasm. "Alright," you murmured.

He smiled at you before kissing you deeply, thoroughly enjoying the taste and feel of you. His thrusts were slow and measured, much more gentle than they'd been before.

To your surprise, the friction wasn't as painful as you'd expected. In fact, you found yourself enjoying the slow feeling of his cock dragging against your walls, the thick vein on the underside throbbing inside you.

He let go of your wrists to hold himself up a little, allowing him more room to move. His eyes traced your face as he fucked you, the action incredibly intimate despite the situation.

After several minutes of gentle thrusts, Dean pulled himself up into a sitting position and pulled you along with him. You weren't strong enough to hold yourself up properly, but he was more than capable of keeping your body where he wanted it.

He leaned back, lying flat against the bed, with you now straddling him. You put your hands on his chest for leverage as you began to ride him.

Dean let out a soft moan, which you echoed when he pulled your hips down flush against his so you couldn't move. He pressed his hand firmly against your lower belly and you gasped in pleasure.

"You feel that, baby? Feel my cock so deep inside you? Feels so fuckin' good."

You nodded rapidly, not trusting your voice to actually speak.

Dean released your hips so you could move again, but his eyes didn't leave your body. "You look so fuckin' sexy riding me. Could stare at ya all night."

You blushed deeply, gaze pulling away from his bashfully.

He reached up and touched your cheek, pulling your face back towards him. "I like looking at you."

You bit your lip, but didn't turn away. Having demon Dean compliment you felt so incredibly different than what you were used to. It almost felt wrong to appreciate his words and his gaze--as if you were cheating on your husband. You knew you weren't really, but it still felt wrong.

After several more moments, Dean tired of the slowness of the pace. He grabbed you and pulled you down to him, wrapping his arms around you to hold you tightly. He planted his feet and began to piston up into you, sending shock waves of pain and pleasure through your body.

He loved the wrecked sounds coming from your mouth as he fucked up into you. He knew his current angle would hit your sweet spot with each thrust--and he knew you wouldn't be able to avoid another orgasm.

He'd be lying to himself if he said he didn't want to feel you cum all over his cock again--the sensation was almost as incredible as his own orgasm. He found himself craving it with a desperation he didn't want to dive too deeply into.

"I know you're close, sweetheart," he murmured. "I can feel it--know you wanna cum around my cock."

Your moans and whimpers were all the confirmation he needed.

"You gonna cum for me, baby?"

"Please," was all you could manage to say.

"Cum for me."

His command sent you over the edge with shocking ease. You weren't certain you even had it in you to cum again, and the intensity of the orgasm surprised you.

Dean held on tightly as your body shook, your pussy clenching and unclenching around him as you squirted all over his lower body.

"Holy fuck, you're sexy," he groaned, an intense feeling of pride surging through his veins. He'd made you squirt before, but every single time felt like a gold fucking medal to him.

His thrusts became more sloppy as his own orgasm neared. He was so close he could practically taste it, but it was your aftershocks that finally had him exploding inside of you. He stopped moving, holding you tight to him as he emptied deep in your pussy.

He carefully rolled you over onto your back before sliding out of you. You whimpered at the feeling of emptiness, which made his chest swell with pride.

"Spread those pretty legs for me, baby--spread 'em nice and wide," he murmured, large hand gently rubbing your thighs. "Spread yourself open--wanna watch my cum leaking out of you."

You did as he asked, surprised to find yourself so turned-on by his request. You watched him stare at the apex of your thighs, your mixed spends dripping from your abused hole.

He licked his lips, gaze flickering back up to yours. "You're the sexiest fucking thing I've ever seen."

You inhaled sharply, pleased by his praise. "Come here," you whispered, reaching for him.

You were surprised when he actually complied, crawling up your body and placing a soft kiss on to your lips, allowing you to run your hands through his hair affectionately.

After a few moments, Dean pulled away. "Why don't you get a little rest? You'll need your strength."

You looked at him in shock. "Strength for what?"

"You didn't think we were done, did you?"

"Dean, you can't possibly be serious!"

His eyes flashed black, reminding you exactly who and what you were dealing with. "I'm deadly serious."

You exhaled shakily as it finally dawned on you that you had no control over your current situation. Dean could do anything he wanted to you and there wouldn't be a damn thing you could do about it.

But that wasn't the concerning part. The concerning part was how little fear you felt. The idea of him being completely in control felt like a good thing...and that was what really scared you.

**********

You awoke several hours later to the feeling of Dean's rough hands on your soft skin. You were lying on your side, with him directly behind you. It had been a comfortable position to fall asleep in, but it seemed Dean now had a different idea.

You felt his cock tease your pussy and you whimpered softly.

"Need you just one more time," Dean murmured in your ear as he slid into you. He held you tightly against him, still spooning you as he began his gentle thrusts.

"Focus on how my cock feels in that tight little pussy of yours," he instructed. "I know you're sore, baby, but I'm gonna make you feel so good."

You'd lost count of the number of orgasms you'd had somewhere after the 7th one. You hadn't even known it was possible for the human body to have that many. Dean was right--you were sore, too sore to move, in fact.

"I've got you," he murmured, pressing his lips into your shoulder.

The intimacy of the moment surprised you and you weren't sure why Dean was being so soft. You leaned back into him, feeling the taunt muscles of his abdomen flex against you.

He took the movement as permission to continue what he was doing. He slid his hand farther down your body, slipping it between your legs to rub light circles on your swollen clit.

You gasped softly, nails digging into the flesh of his arm.

Dean shushed you gently. "Let me make you feel good--just relax."

You tried to do as he said, willing your overstimulated body to stop tensing.

As Dean continued his gentle thrusts and soft touches, you began to feel the familiar tightening deep in your abdomen. You focused on the feeling, on the need for a release as it rose within you.

"You're doing so good for me," Dean praised. "So sexy--with this fucking perfect pussy. Could stay here forever."

His murmured words of praise went straight to your core, causing it to tighten around him. He moaned softly, continuing his movements.

"Dean," you whispered. "I'm close."

He pressed his lips into your shoulder. "Let go for me, baby. I've got you."

For a moment--just a moment--you felt like you were making love to your Dean. The feeling was fleeting, but it gave you hope, even as it ripped your heart to pieces.

He knew exactly what to do to send your body into overdrive--he'd always known. He had you falling apart in minutes, soft cries of pleasure slipping past your tired lips.

"That's it, baby," Dean groaned. "Gonna fill you up."

Dean came for a final time, deep inside you. You'd lost track of his orgasms long before you'd lost track of your own.

He whispered your name softly, lips brushing against your skin sweetly.

He didn't pull out, but his cock finally began to soften--having reached the limit even for a demon.

After several minutes, he allowed you to pull away from him. You rolled over and quickly fell asleep, too exhausted to even exist for a moment longer.

**********

When you finally woke up, you weren't sure how much time had passed. Your entire body was sore, a dull ache from your head to your toes.

You pulled yourself up into a sitting position, glancing beside you to the empty bed. Your eyes flitted around the room, seeking any sign of Dean. His clothes were still strewn all over the floor, along with yours, but he could very well have put on fresh clothes.

You weakly pulled yourself out of the bed and slowly made your way to the bathroom, bladder pulsating painfully. After using the bathroom, you splashed cold water on your face, trying to revive yourself even a little.

You gazed at yourself in the mirror, taking in the various marks and bruises littering your skin. You would typically wear such marks like a badge of honor, but in this moment, you only felt shame.

You'd had explosive sex with a demon--not just any demon, a demon that used to be your husband. Your heart clenched as images flashing through your mind. You'd loved it in the moment, but now you felt incredibly guilty.

You couldn't help but wonder what Dean would think of you if you were able to make him human again. You were scared he'd be upset with you--ashamed even.

The sound of the hotel room door opening shook you from your thoughts. You grabbed the robe hanging on a hook in the bathroom and threw it on quickly, barely covering yourself before Dean came into view.

"Hey sweetheart," he said with a smile. "I brought food."

Surprise lit up your face as you stared at him. You hadn't been certain he'd come back, let alone bring you food. "Oh, umm...thank you."

He nodded and placed the bags on the small table. "You wanna take a shower first or eat first?"

You were still in shock from his behavior, but you managed to mumble, "Shower." You closed the door slowly and started the shower, but you didn't get in.

You took a moment to try and collect yourself, but you found it nearly impossible to relax. You sighed and dropped the robe from your body before stepping under the hot spray.

The calming feeling of the water washing over you brought you some relief--as if it was washing away your sins. It also gave you some clarity.

At the end of the day, he was still Dean--and you desperately wanted him back. If this was the only way to do it, then you just had to suck it up and do what needed to be done. If necessary, you'd beg for forgiveness later.

When you got out of the shower Dean was waiting for you at the table. You'd thrown the robe back on, having no other clothes with you.

You offered him a smile before going towards where your undergarments lay near the bed. You also picked up your jeans, but your shirt was completely ruined.

Dean's keen eyes followed you around the room, watching in silence. When you made it to the door where the remnants of your shirt lay, Dean chuckled lightly. "Why don't you wear one of mine, sweetheart?"

You held up the ripped fabric. "I don't think I have much of a choice."

He smiled and stood up, grabbing a clean flannel out of the duffle on the floor. He handed it to you and waited--as if he expected you to say something.

You looked down at the flannel in your hand and inhaled sharply. It was your favorite flannel of his--green and black in color, and incredibly soft from all the washes it had endured.

He saw the moment you recognized the shirt and he suddenly felt oddly nervous--he wanted you to be happy, as silly as that might be for a demon.

"I'll just go throw these on," you whispered.

Dean just nodded as you walked past him to the bathroom. You came out a few minutes later, fully clothed.

He let out a soft sound you could only describe as a low growl. "I love it when you wear my clothes."

You blushed. "You always did find it sexy."

He grinned darkly and took a step towards you, but you shook your head gently.

"My entire body is sore, Dean."

He pouted. "A kiss at least?"

You sighed. "Fine."

He leaned down to kiss you with shocking gentleness. It warmed you from the inside out.

"See? I can be gentle," Dean said with a smirk.

"Interesting for a demon," you mumbled, sitting down at the table.

You missed the look of hurt that crossed Dean's face at your words. He sat at the table across from you, expression impassive.

You started to eat, quickly discovering how hungry you really were. Dean watched you quietly, not particularly hungry himself. He noticed some marks on your exposed collarbone and throat and he felt an odd feeling in his chest. It made him extremely uncomfortable, but he couldn't quite place the feeling.

"Dean?" you asked softly.

His eyes refocused on your face. "Hmm?"

"I know what you're going to say, but will you please come back with me? Just--Just come home, Dean--please." You were more than ready to beg, but you found you didn't need to.

"Alright."

You'd opened your mouth for a rebuttal, but his voice stopped you--"What?"

"I'll come back with you."

Your face was a mixture of surprise and confusion. "I, uhh--I was expecting to have to beg you."

"No need," he commented. "After last night, I have no desire to be anywhere else."

"Anywhere else?"

"Perhaps I should have said with anyone else."

"Ahh. I see." Your heart fluttered slightly, even though the words came from a demon.

"So yes, I'll go back home with you...on one condition."

Your heart began to beat faster as you waited for him to continue.

"Under no circumstances will you ever force me to become human."

Your chest ached at his words, your eyes fluttered closed, and your breath exhaled slowly. Dean knew what he was asking of you--knew it was a lot deeper than a simple promise. "Don't make me promise that," you whispered.

Dean's eyes flicked to black and his expression hardened. "Promise me or leave. The choice is yours."

It felt as though time slowed around you. You had never once broken a promise to Dean--never. He knew you prided yourself on that--he knew you would never break one. You couldn't find it in yourself to betray him, even now.

"I have one condition of my own."

Dean raised a single eyebrow.

"I will make you that promise, if you give me the First Blade."

It was Dean's turn to be surprised. "Why?"

"You know why."

His eyes flicked back to green, but he looked annoyed. "And if I don't give it up?"

"Then I leave."

Dean weighed his options in silence. After a few moments, he got up and crossed the room towards the door where his jacket hung. He reached into the inside pocket and pulled out the First Blade.

You inhaled sharply, a ripple of fear surging through you.

He crossed the short distance back to you, placing the Blade on the table in front of you. You reached out for it, but his hand snapped forward and grabbed your arm.

"Do we have a deal?"

You exhaled heavily. "We have a deal."

"Say it."

"I promise I will never force you to become human again," you whispered.

He released your arm and smirked. He was obviously pleased with himself, even as you quite clearly ached from making such a promise.

You pulled the Blade towards you, keeping it as close to you as you could. You needed to call Crowley to come get the damn thing as soon as possible--you wanted it as far away from Dean as possible.

“Maybe we can leave when I’m done eating?”

Dean just nodded. “Better not tell Sam until we get there.”

You couldn't have told him even if you'd wanted to, given that Crowley had broken your phone, so you simply nodded your agreement.

Dean watched you in silence while you finished eating, his face completely unreadable. You were worried about what Dean was planning, but you were more worried about Sam's reaction to all of this.

**********

The drive back to the bunker was uneventful. Dean drove straight through the night, no need for sleep. You were still tired from your antics the day before, so you slept for a large portion of the drive.

Dean woke you 10 minutes before arrival. "How pissed you think Sammy's gonna be?" he asked.

"You left him to die, Dean--he's probably not gonna be excited to see you."

Dean shrugged. "I mean, he didn't die though."

You shot him a glare and he laughed. "It's not funny, Winchester."

"It's not, not funny."

You sighed. "Just let me do the talking, okay? He's not pissed at me."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "He's gonna be."

"Either way," you mumbled. "Just let me handle it."

"Fine."

Dean pulled in to the underground garage and you both got out of the car. You weren't sure if Sam would even be there--you hadn't spoken to him in a couple days. For all you knew, he could have been kidnapped a second time--or maybe he thought you were the one missing.

As you entered into the bunker properly, you found it very quiet and very empty.

"Looks like nobody's home," Dean commented.

"Sam's probably worried about me--god only knows where he is," you muttered. You turned to Dean. "Let me borrow your phone."

He eyed you warily. "What happened to yours?"

"Crowley broke it."

Dean's eyes narrowed, flashing black aggressively. "He what?"

"Easy there killer--he broke my phone, not me."

"I'll kill him."

"Get in line," you mumbled as you stuck out your hand. "Phone, please."

He handed you his phone and you immediately dialed the familiar number. Sam answered on the second ring, hope and surprise in his voice, "Dean?"

"No, it's me."

You heard relief in his voice when he spoke again. "Where the hell are you? Are you okay? I was seriously worried--" he paused, seemingly remembering whose phone you were using. "Are you with Dean?"

Dean leaned in over your shoulder to speak into the phone. "Hiya, Sammy."

You elbowed Dean lightly. "I'm fine, Sam, and yes, I'm with Dean."

"How--?"

"Crowley."

"Why the hell didn't you call me?"

"Also, Crowley. He busted my phone--hence why I'm using Dean's."

"Are you--are you safe?"

You looked over at Dean and sighed. "Yeah, I'm safe."

Sam sighed in relief. "Where are you--I'll come get you."

"We're, uhh--we're actually back home."

"What?"

"We're at the bunker."

"How the hell did you convince him to come back with you?"

"We can talk about that when you get here. Just come home."

"I'm on my way."

You hung up the phone and handed it back to Dean, who gave you a hungry look.

"So...what should we do while we're waiting?"

"I know you're a demon, but I'm not," you said lightly. "I'm still sore."

"Aww c'mon, sweetheart," Dean pouted slightly. "I'll be gentle."

You shook your head with a small smile. "I'm not so sure about that."

"I was gentle yesterday morning, wasn't I?"

"After several orgasms and some very rough sex."

"I thought you enjoyed that," he said lowly, stepping closer to you.

You blushed, taking a step back. "I--I did."

He grinned predatorily. "I can make it very good for you, baby."

You felt a rush of arousal flood your body as he took another step towards you, backing you up against the large table behind you.

He breathed deeply and his eyes flashed black. "I can smell your desire."

You exhaled shakily.

Dean leaned forward, pinning you against the table. He placed one arm on the table and the other very lightly against your throat. "How 'bout I take you right here?"

You weren't opposed to the idea, but you weren't sure exactly how far away Sam was. "What if Sam comes back?"

Dean shrugged. "Then we'll give him a show."

You smacked his chest affectionately. "We will not."

"Then I guess you better hope he doesn't come back while I'm fucking you senseless."

You gasped and Dean leaned down, pressing his lips hungrily against yours. You kissed him back with the same amount of passion, fingers digging into his back to pull him closer to you.

You felt Dean's fingers brush against your chest and you pulled back immediately. "Wait!"

Surprise lit up his face and he released you instantly. "What's wrong?"

"This is my favorite flannel--you are not going to rip it."

Dean laughed heartily. "My apologies, sweetheart. You can take it off yourself then."

You quickly unbuttoned it and slid it off your shoulders, tossing it to the floor nearby. You looked back up at him, a sultry smile on your face. "You may continue."

"Oh, I will." Dean gripped the front of your bra and tore it directly down the center, revealing your heaving breasts to him.

You gasped at the action, but it quickly turned to a moan as his hands began to massage your breasts and pinch your nipples harshly.

Your hips instinctively jutted forward, seeking his body for some relief. Dean immediately noticed, pressing his body firmly against yours, knee sliding between your legs to apply pressure against your core.

You ground yourself down on his knee and groaned softly. You repeated the action, the friction giving you pleasure.

"That's it, pretty girl," Dean growled lowly. "Get yourself off my thigh."

You continued your motions, but it just wasn't enough to get you to your peak. You whimpered softly and Dean chuckled darkly.

"Not enough for you, baby? Need me to help you?"

"Please," you begged.

He made quick work of removing your jeans, but instead of removing your underwear, he simply ripped them right off, practically shredding the lace.

Dean slipped two of his fingers between your legs and plunged them into your core. You gasped and clenched tightly around him.

"Fuck, sweetheart--you're fuckin' soaked," Dean groaned into your neck, fingers thrusting in and out of you hastily. "So damn tight too."

You whined softly as he pulled his fingers out and slipped them into his mouth, sucking them clean. He gripped your hips tightly and lifted you to place you on the table properly.

You wrapped your legs tightly around him and pulled him in closely, desperately wanting to feel him against your skin. You tugged at his shirt, which he quickly removed.

Your fingers grasped at his belt, but he smacked your hand away. He said nothing as he dropped to his knees and tugged your hips forward.

"Spread those legs for me."

You did as he asked, spreading your legs as wide as you could. You waited for him to touch you, but he made no moves to do so. "Dean?" you asked softly, slight desperation in your voice.

His eyes raised up to meet yours, a dark expression on his face. "Touch yourself."

"What?" you asked in quiet confusion.

"You want some relief? Touch yourself."

You supported yourself on one arm while you moved the other between your legs. You were mortified by the wetness dripping down your folds, but you collected some before sliding your fingers between your labia.

Dean watched with dark, hungry eyes as you played with your clit, soft whimpers of enjoyment slipping from your lips.

"Spread yourself open so I can see," he demanded.

You did as he asked, using your other hand to spread yourself, giving him a proper view of your aching pussy.

"Fuck," he muttered beneath his breath. "Keep going."

Your fingers immediately went back to rubbing your clit, desperate to feel that tightening in your core--knowing the pleasure it would bring.

Dean's large hands splayed on your thighs, massaging them gently as he watched, eyes glued to your movements.

Finally, after what felt like hours, he leaned forward and licked into your pussy, making you shiver with anticipation. You moved your hand away and he slapped your pussy harshly, causing you to yelp.

"Did I fucking say you could stop?" he growled, eyes flashing black.

You inhaled sharply and shook your head, fingers immediately returning to your core. You wouldn't admit it to him, but you liked this dark side of him--he would never have let it come out like this if he were human. He was too afraid to hurt you--too protective to even consider it. You hadn't known how much you'd enjoy it until now...and you just had to hope Dean wouldn't notice.

Dean's tongue lapped lazily between your folds as you continued to massage your clit. Every time you felt the pressure begin to build in your gut, your fingers would instinctively speed up. Each time they sped up, Dean would pull your hand away, keeping your orgasm just out of reach.

After several minutes of this, Dean's control had begun to wane. When your fingers sped up, he once again removed your hand, only this time he replaced it with his mouth. You felt his tongue dance across your clit in the most pleasurable way, fingers entwining themselves in his hair.

Your hips bucked up towards his mouth, but he didn't relent. Even as you screamed his name and your juices began to gush, he kept his mouth on you, drinking up everything you gave him. It wasn't until you'd collapsed back onto the table that he finally pulled away and stood back up, licking his lips in satisfaction.

Your breathing was ragged and your vision was slightly blurred as you looked at him, waiting for him to make his next move. He quickly shed his jeans and boxers, tossing them out of the way before taking his cock into his hand.

He watched your chest rise and fall rapidly as he stroked himself, appreciating how fucked out you already looked. "I need you to sit up, sweetheart." His words sounded soft, but his voice was demanding.

You managed to slowly pull yourself into a sitting position, grabbing onto his muscular arms for support. He teased your entrance with his cock and you whimpered softly.

"Lean back on your hands," he murmured lowly.

You did as he asked, the angle allowing him better access to your pussy. He slipped the head of his cock between your folds and slowly began to push forward until he was completely sheathed inside you.

The feeling of fullness had you gasping softly, head tilted back as you tried to catch your breath.

Dean tugged you even closer by your hips so he could get even deeper. You cried out in pain as his first thrust hit your cervix, but Dean didn't seem to notice. His hips snapped forward repeatedly, each thrust threatening to send you flying across the table if not for his death grip on your hips.

The pain soon gave way to pleasure, the room filling with the sounds of your mixed moans, the slapping of skin, and the sounds of your slickness as he fucked you.

He snaked one hand around your back to pull you even closer to him, practically holding you as he kept his pace. Your legs had begun to shake and your arms were weakening--but you knew your orgasm was near.

"Harder," you whimpered, surprising him.

He growled. "You like it when I fuck you like a little slut, don't you?"

"Yes!" you cried out.

His hips moved impossibly faster, the thrusts harder than before.

"Don't stop!" you pleaded.

"I wouldn't dare." He kept the pace as steady as he could, even as he felt his own orgasm rising.

"Please, please, please," you rambled. "S-so close!"

Dean's hand wrapped around your throat, pressing lightly against it. "Cum for me, pretty girl," he growled.

"More!"

He tightened his grip on your throat, but not enough to hurt you. It was all you needed to push you over the edge and into bliss. You cried out as you came, the intensity of your orgasm sparking his own.

He shouted your name in surprise as hot spurts of cum filled you. His thrusts began to slow, but his grip on your body didn't lessen. He held on tightly as you both came down from your highs.

He roughly tugged you forward and off the table. You weren't stable enough to stand, but that didn't matter to him. He spun you around and forced your upper body down onto the table, spreading your legs with one of his.

His cock was already hard again and he plunged into you without warning, earning a cry from your lips.

"Fuck, this pussy is so good for me," he groaned. "I just wanna fuck you until you can't move."

"Dean!" you whimpered, body overly sensitive already.

Once again, his grip on your hips was bruising and his thrusts were almost painful in their depth and intensity. The only thing keeping you upright was the table beneath you, your legs no better than wet noodles.

"You look so fuckin' sexy like this--spread for me, pussy leaking my cum, fuckin' moaning so pretty...fuck." His thrusts sped up, making you cry out.

"Need--shit--need you to cum again, baby."

"I-I c-can't!"

"Yes you can--you've been so good for me. Just give me one more."

Tears welled in your eyes--your body ached horribly, but you wanted to please him so badly. Your hips and thighs hurt from his grip and the force of his thrusts pressing you into the table, but you tried to block all of that from your mind. You focused on the pleasurable feeling of his cock, desperate to give him what he wanted.

"I-I need more," you whimpered.

His hand immediately slipped around to your front and began to rub tight circles to your clit. The sensation nearly pushed you over the edge with how sensitive you were.

"Come on, sweetheart, I can tell you're close."

You moaned in response, focus entirely on reaching your high.

His finger moved faster, the friction sending you into overdrive. You screamed and your nails scratched against the wood as you desperately searched for something to cling to--something to ground you.

"Fuck, yes--that's it. Cum for me, baby."

You screamed again as you came--the pleasure so blinding you passed out for a few moments. When you came to, he was chasing his own high--thrusts becoming more sloppy by the second.

"G-gonna fill you u-up," he ground out, hands tightening on your hips painfully.

Two more thrusts and he was spilling inside of you, hips stuttering as he emptied his seed deep within you. He leaned forward, pressing you even farther into the table, his lips gently caressing your back.

Once he'd regained his breath--and his strength--he pulled out of you and stood up. You nearly slid off the table and onto the floor, but he caught you.

"Woah there--I've got you."

He scooped you up and carried you to the bedroom the two of you shared. He laid you down on the bed with surprising gentleness before climbing onto the bed with you.

"No--no more--please," you begged.

"Easy, sweetheart," he purred softly. "I know you're tired--I just wanna be inside of you."

He laid you on your side and he slid up into you, forcing some of his cum back into your pussy. You whimpered at the feeling of fullness, but even you had to admit you enjoyed the feeling.

He wrapped his arms tightly around you and pulled you close. "Go to sleep, baby. I've got you."

His tone was almost loving--if you didn't know better, you would have thought it was. You were too weak and tired to dwell on it, instead drifting off to sleep with unsurprising ease.

**********

Sam rushed into the bunker like a bat outta hell. He wanted to trust that his brother would never hurt you, but he worried for your safety. Dean was a knight of hell after all.

When he properly entered the war room, he froze. His eyes went to the clothing strewn about the space--a mixture of your's and Dean's. Out of all the things he'd expected, this had not been on the list. He couldn't believe you would be that foolish.

"(Y/N)? Dean?" he called as he walked farther into the bunker.

There was no response, so he made his way to where your bedroom was. The door was shut, so he knocked loudly.

You jolted awake at the loud banging, the movement making Dean moan softly. Somehow he was still hard and buried inside of you--where he'd been for however long you'd been asleep.

"(Y/N)? You in there?" Sam's voice called from the other side of the door.

Dean groaned in annoyance, but you answered anyway. "Yeah--just, uh...give us a minute."

"You coulda told him to go away," Dean mumbled into your shoulder.

"We'd just be delaying the inevitable."

He sighed and slowly removed himself from you, causing a soft whimper to escape your lips. He grinned and leaned down over you, kissing you softly. "Don't worry, we can do it again later."

You kissed him back, before giving him a light push against his chest. "I need clothes."

You dragged yourself out of bed and moved around the room, throwing various items of clothing on to make yourself decent. You wanted a shower, but that would have to wait until after you'd talked to Sam.

Dean watched you from his place in the bed, not making a move to get dressed himself.

"You coming?" you asked.

"I'll give you a head start," he answered. "You can talk to Sam alone."

You nodded. "Alright."

You exited the bedroom, closing the door behind you. Sam was standing at the end of the hall near the entrance to the library. The look he gave you told you exactly what kind of mood he was in. He disappeared into the library and you followed shortly after.

"Sam, I can explain--"

"Explain? Really? You wanna explain why you're sleeping with demon Dean?"

"Oh like you can talk," you shot back. "You slept with a demon several times--and she tried to destroy the world."

Sam's eyes narrowed, but he knew you were right.

"Besides, he's still Dean...just a demon," you mumbled.

"Fine," Sam said with a sigh. "Is that how you convinced him to come back with you?"

You averted your gaze and bit your lip lightly. "Not exactly."

"(Y/N)...what did you do?"

"What I had to do."

"(Y/N)."

"I, uh--I made him a promise."

Sam's face paled slightly. "What did you promise him?"

You closed your eyes and exhaled slowly. "I told him I wouldn't force him to become human again."

"You what?" Sam yelled. "You can't possibly keep that promise."

"I have to, Sam. I've never betrayed Dean before and I sure as hell won't start now."

"Are you kidding me? He's a demon, (Y/N)! A monster! The kind of thing he's loathed for his entire life--you really think he wants this?"

"Of course I don't!" you yelled back. "Do you really think I want my husband to be a demon forever? This was the only way to get him to agree to come back here with me. I don't regret making this promise and I would do it again if I had to!"

"So you'll break it?" Sam asked again, voice still raised.

"No," you answered firmly. "I can't."

"How could you be so stupid, (Y/N)?" Sam yelled harshly. "This is the dumbest goddamn thing you've ever done!"

Dean appeared seemingly out of nowhere, wedging himself between you and Sam. He pushed Sam back aggressively, eyes flashing to black. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a growl. "Don't you ever speak to her like that again, or you won't make it to see another sunrise."

"Dean!" you cried, stepping forward to place a calming hand on his arm. "It's alright--I'm fine."

Dean ignored you, black eyes still trained on his brother's face. "Do you understand me?"

Sam nodded slowly.

"Apologize."

"Dean, that's not necessary," you tried.

He held up his hand to silence you. "Apologize."

Sam swallowed thickly. "I'm sorry, (Y/N). I shouldn't have said that."

"It's alright, Sam."

"Don't do it again," Dean seethed.

"Dean," you murmured softly. "We're good--I'm good."

He finally relaxed his shoulders and took a step back. His eyes flicked back to green and he turned to look at you. He seemed to scan you, checking to make sure you really were okay.

"I'm fine," you mouthed.

He nodded, finally believing you. He turned back to his brother. "Now you gonna play nice and adhere to (Y/N/N)'s promise?"

"I don't like it," Sam responded. "But fine."

Dean grinned. "Excellent. Otherwise we'd have quite a problem on our hands."

You exchanged glances between the two men and worried they would have some sort of fight sooner than later. You knew you needed to get the First Blade to Crowley before something terrible happened.

"Sam, can I borrow your phone for a moment?" you asked suddenly.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to you. Dean eyed you warily, wondering what you were up to.

"Just gonna make a quick call...outside," you mumbled.

You practically ran towards the steps, taking two at a time to get out of there before someone asked too many questions. You called Crowley as soon as the bunker door closed behind you.

"Mrs. Squirrel," Crowley answered by way of greeting.

You rolled your eyes, opting not to comment on the annoying nickname. "I have the Blade."

"Where?"

"The Bunker."

He appeared a few feet away from you and you hung up your phone. You gestured for him to follow you down towards the garage.

"Stay here," you insisted, before entering the garage as quietly as possible.

You went straight for Baby, popping the trunk to retrieve the First Blade from the demon-proof box you'd placed it in. You made your way back outside quickly, not wanting to alert Dean to your movements.

"Take it," you demanded, holding it out to Crowley. "And for the love of god, hide it--put it somewhere Dean will never find it."

"I can assure you, it will be hidden well."

"Good. Now get the hell outta here before I change my mind about killing you."

Crowley smirked mirthlessly. "With pleasure."

He disappeared, taking the First Blade with him. Relief flooded your body and you turned to make your way back into the bunker, hoping to find both men in one piece.

**********

It had been a week since you and Dean had returned to the bunker. As the week went on, Dean's anger and aggression became more and more noticeable.

He hadn't said anything to you, but you knew Dean was jonesing for a kill. You could tell by the way he'd react to things--even the slightest of annoyances would have him reacting violently.

The other indicator came out in Dean's sexual desires. He wanted you almost constantly, regardless of where you were, who else was around, or what was going on. While that alone wasn't problematic, what was concerning was his increasing aggression during sex--and if he didn't get what he wanted immediately.

There wasn't a single inch of your skin he hadn't marked in some way, and you were beyond exhausted. The one time you'd dared to say no to him, resulted in him punching a dent into a metal wall--an action that frightened you. You still didn't think he would hurt you, but you weren't willing to risk it.

Sam had begun to notice as well, especially as it pertained to the marks on your skin. Dean no longer cared about hiding them and makeup wasn't cutting it anymore.

Sam's gaze was on you as you entered the library one morning, limping slightly.

"You know, I'm really starting to worry about you," Sam said quietly.

"I'm alright," you lied as you lowered yourself into a chair, wincing in discomfort.

"Right," Sam muttered sarcastically. "You can't even sit without being in pain."

"If it keeps him from killing someone, then it's worth it," you snapped back.

Sam fell silent, knowing you were right. He wanted to bring up breaking your promise again, but he knew you wouldn't budge. He worried about how Dean would feel about all of this if he became human again...he knew his brother well enough to know it would kill him to know he'd hurt you like this.

Another week went by in much the same manner, but Dean's urge to kill had only worsened. He still hadn't hurt you outside of sex, but you'd begun to fear him--really fear him.

You'd decided to address the issue with him while Sam was out on a store run. You thought he might take it better if Sam wasn't hovering around.

Dean was sitting in the kitchen, drinking his coffee, when you walked in.

"Hey, D," you said softly. "Can we talk?"

He grunted and gestured for you to continue.

"It's about your behavior the last couple weeks. I-I know the bloodlust is getting bad and to be honest, your temper is starting to really scare me."

He looked up at you with black eyes. "Maybe if you'd let me go out and do some hunting I wouldn't be so volatile."

"You know we can't do that, Dean."

"We," he scoffed. "Since when did you and Sam become 'we'?"

You closed your eyes and sighed, ignoring his question. "You're too unpredictable. You know that better than anyone."

He stood up and took a menacing step towards you. "Give me the Blade and let me go out for a while...one or two kills and I'll be right as rain."

"I can't do that."

"I think you mean won't."

You shook your head. "I can't. I don't have the Blade."

He froze. "What the hell do you mean you don't have it?"

"I-I couldn't risk you getting ahold of it...so I made sure it was safe."

His gaze narrowed, eyes still black as ink. He took several steps towards you, but you backed away until you hit the wall behind you.

He was inches from your face when he growled lowly, "Where is it?"

"I don't know," you whispered.

"What?"

"I don't know," you repeated.

"Where did you put it?"

You were deeply regretting telling him anything at all, but you still blurted out, "I gave it to someone!"

"Who?!"

"I needed to make sure it was hidden where you would never be able to find it," you said desperately.

"Who did you give it to?" he roared.

"Crowley," you whimpered in fear.

Dean punched the wall directly beside your head and you yelped in surprise and fear.

"What the fuck were you thinking?"

You didn't answer--too afraid to push his buttons further. You could feel the rage rolling off him in waves and you felt the cold terror seize your heart.

"Call him and get it back," he ordered.

"No," you whispered. You wouldn't risk Dean getting ahold of the Blade...not for anything.

He pinned you against the wall by your throat, slamming your head back against the wall with enough force to break the skin.

His grip on your throat was painfully tight and you tried desperately to get away. "Dean--" you gasped.

For a moment, you were certain he was going to kill you--you would be the next victim of the Mark's bloodlust and there was nothing you could do about it. Even with his eyes filled with darkness, you could see the boiling rage in them. He wasn't seeing you, he was seeing his next victim.

You struggled against his hold on your throat, trying to loosen his grip enough for you to speak. You smacked your hands against his chest, trying anything to get him to release you.

You suddenly remembered your failsafe--you'd starting carrying it everywhere when Dean became more volatile. You managed to pull the item from your pocket, breaking the lid off as you brought it up and splashed the liquid into Dean's face.

He screamed and released you as the holy water burned his skin. You dropped to the ground, gasping for breath, head throbbing painfully. As you coughed and sputtered, you reached a hand to the back of your head, touching the wound softly. When you brought your hand back down, you saw blood staining your fingers.

At first, all Dean could feel was rage--you'd dared to splash holy water in his face? He'd kill you for it. But then his gaze landed on you as you crouched on the floor, blood soaking your fingers, trying to catch your breath. He looked up and saw the blood on the wall where he'd slammed your head against it and he immediately felt sick.

He stepped away from you, eyes flicking back to green as tears filled them. He hadn't meant to hurt you--even as a demon, he'd never wanted to hurt you. He'd let the Mark's rage get the best of him and he'd nearly killed you.

He backed away to the other side of the room and sank to the floor, dropping his head into his hands. He was ashamed of what he had done and for the first time since he'd become a demon, he felt like a monster.

A few minutes later, Sam came into the kitchen, arms laden with bags. His eyes landed on you first and he dropped the bags as he rushed to your side.

"(Y/N)! What happened? Are you okay?"

Without waiting for your response, Dean spoke up. "I happened."

Sam turned to look at Dean on the other side of the room. He felt angry when he heard Dean's words, but the anger dissipated when he saw the agony etched into his brother's face.

"I-I was so angry..." Dean whispered. "I didn't mean to."

"I'm okay," you rasped, voice hoarse from the trauma to your throat.

The sound of your voice nearly broke Dean's heart in half. "Give me the cure," he said to Sam.

"What?" Sam gasped in surprised.

"Make me human again. Please." The desperation in Dean's voice shocked both of you, as did his request.

"Are-are you sure?" you asked.

Dean looked at you in a mixture of sadness and pain. "I would rather risk death than ever hurt you again."

His words washed over you, warming the ache in your chest. You didn't say anything further--you couldn't find the words.

"Let's go then," Sam said firmly.

Dean stood up and followed Sam down to the dungeon. Sam came back a few minutes later to help clean your wounds. As he cleaned your head wound, he told you he'd secured Dean in the dungeon and he'd called for Castiel.

"We might need some backup for this," he muttered.

You nodded, the simple action making your head throb painfully.

"Try not to move too much," Sam said gently.

"I'm alright."

"What happened?" Castiel spoke from the doorway.

"Dean did," Sam said with a sigh.

"You need to be healed."

"No," you insisted as you held up your hand. "Don't waste what little grace you have left on me."

Cas looked down sadly, but he didn't come towards you. "Where is Dean?"

"Dungeon," you mumbled.

Cas walked away, apparently on his way to see Dean.

Sam finished cleaning your head wound and stood up. "I don't think you need stitches."

"Great," you groaned, standing up slowly.

"Woah--take it easy."

"I'm fine, Sam. We need to do this before he changes his mind."

"Cas and I can handle it."

You shook your head. "I'm not leaving him."

Sam sighed and gave you his arm to hold onto while walking down to the dungeon. When you opened the door, you saw Dean strapped to a chair in the center of the room. Cas stood off to the side, waiting.

"Let's get started," you said softly.

You left the dirty work to Sam--you couldn't bring yourself to hurt Dean, even after everything that had happened.

Listening to Dean's screams and pleas was almost too much for you to bear, but you knew it had to be done. Dean had asked to become human again...and there was nothing you wanted more.

Despite the agony he was experiencing, Dean insisted Sam continue the injections. As much as he would have rather stayed a demon, he was too afraid of what he would do to you if left unchecked.

You closed your eyes as Dean once again screamed in pain. You weren't sure how much more of this you could take, let alone Dean.

Dean noticed your demeanor--could tell your resolve was weakening. "It's okay, baby," he told you breathlessly. "I'm okay."

You opened your eyes and looked at him, unshed tears blurring your vision. He gave you a small, weak smile, which you tried to return. It ended up looking more like a wince than anything else.

"I wanted this, remember? I want this," he insisted.

You nodded tearfully. "I know. I just don't like seeing you in pain."

"We've only got one injection left," Sam cut in gently.

You watched in silence as Sam injected him with the final dose. Dean once again cried out, before falling completely silent, head drooping forward.

"Dean?" you whispered in fear.

When he didn't respond, you worried you had all gone too far...that Dean was dead.

As the three of you stared at the man in the chair, you heard a soft groan escape his lips and he slowly lifted his head. His eyes fluttered open, revealing the beautiful green orbs you loved so much.

"You guys look worried," Dean said softly.

Sam splashed some holy water on his brother, but the liquid had no effect.

You let out a choked sob, beyond relieved to have your husband back.

You thought you heard Sam say, "welcome back Dean," but you were too focused on Dean's face to be sure. His own gaze was locked on yours, tears filing his eyes as he slowly took in the marks littering your skin--especially the bruising around your throat in the shape of his hand.

"(Y/N/N)," he whispered, his voice more broken than you'd ever heard it.

"Uncuff him," you said to Sam, who immediately did as you asked.

Dean stood up, clearly weak from the ordeal he'd just gone through, but nothing would have stopped him from getting to you.

He was a foot or two away from you when you gave in to your own desires, closing the gap between you. You wrapped your arms around him tightly and sobbed into his chest--letting out all the pain you'd kept inside for the last couple months.

Dean's arms held you close, lips pressed firmly into your hair, his own tears streaming down his face. Neither of you spoke--there was no need, not yet anyway.

After several minutes, you finally stepped back, wiping the tears from your face. You smiled up at him and whispered, "I love you."

You saw something flash across his face, but it was gone before you could place it. "I love you too," he murmured.

You stood to the side as Sam hugged Dean, followed by Cas. Everyone was glad to have him back, but you could see Dean was struggling--he clearly remembered every moment of being a demon...and you had no idea what kind of impact that would have on him.

"Alright guys, I think he needs some rest. He's been through a lot today," you interrupted softly.

Dean looked at you gratefully and both Sam and Cas nodded their agreement.

"Come on," you murmured, reaching out for Dean's hand.

He grabbed it and followed you to your shared bedroom. To your surprise, he stopped just outside the door. "I think I'd rather sleep in one of the other rooms."

You looked at him in confusion, but he wouldn't quite meet your gaze. "Okay," you whispered. "Whatever you'd prefer."

You followed him to a room down the hall, waiting quietly as he took off his boots before climbing into the bed.

"Do you need anything?"

"No, I'm alright."

You knew he was most definitely not alright, but now wasn't the time to address it.

"Okay. I'll be down the hall if you need me."

He nodded, but said nothing further. He once again couldn't look at you as you left the room. Sadness laced its icy tendrils around your heart, despite the joy you felt at Dean's return to humanity.

You went to join Sam and Cas in the library, not quite wanting to be alone. You didn't want to talk either, but just being around people you loved made you feel a little bit better.

You knew Dean's road to recovery would be long, as would your own. You weren't sure what trials lay ahead of you, but you knew the two of you would make it through--you always did.

If there was one thing you knew for sure, it was how much Dean loved you--if the last few weeks taught you anything, it was that. Your own love for Dean was equally endless--there was nothing you wouldn't do for him. As cliche as it was, love really could conquer all.

#dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader smut #dean winchester x reader #supernatural smut #supernatural #dean winchester x wife reader smut #dean winchester x wife reader #jensen ackles smut #demon!dean #demon!dean x reader smut #demon!dean smut

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loudclan-clangen · 2 months ago

Note

The song “Beautiful Little Fool” for Fiercestripe? Because I am not getting over her death. Listened to it and she was the first character to pop into my head.

You’re so right!

YES! Please do, I would love to see it!

The boring answer is that I've been drawing cats for a VERY long time. I think since I was 8 they have been the majority of what I drew. The less boring answer is you know the movie Spirit? It changed my life. It had a bonus video where one of the artists taught you how to draw Spirit himself and it was the singular thing that inspired me to start drawing (more likely possessed me). I think I must have been about two the first time I saw it because I cannot remember a time before I had that video memorized. I would spend hours sitting in front of that video (which was only like 10-15 minutes long) with a stack of papers just fully focused on perfectly following his instructions. I still think about that video to this day. Every time I draw legs the voice of James Baxter echoes through my mind. I don't know if that translates to why my cats are so beefy, I own a cat who is quite chonky, so that might contruibute to it, but now you have a fun fact about me regardless!

All of the heirs are chosen based on birth order! Whoever is born first gets to be heir. I personally find that making strict rules about stuff makes playing the game a lot easier for me, I find it stressful to try to pick a "good heir" when I don't know what's going to happen later in the game so to limit that I just let it be completely out of my hands. 2. The game rolled for Songpaw to become a medicine cat! I would have changed it if he was an only kit or probably if I had known that Dashpaw was gonna die, cause I was really stressed about losing my run at that point, but I do my best to write a story that makes the game make sense rather than change what the game gives me when possible. I think it helps me to not have much of a story in mind while I play, just noting down events and thoughts and then going back and piecing it all together afterwards. That way nothing can "go wrong". 3. "Heir-hood" only applies to the leaders. There is no expectation that Cavepaw will become a healer. When Weed dies that position will be open until someone wishes to volunteer for it. 4. Honestly I don't really know. This might spoil a little bit, of tension, but I truly never had that happen. I was SUPER worried about it and did a lot to make sure it wouldn't, but after a couple of generations you get to a point where almost everyone is descended from a leader at somepoint. (And also everyone is second cousins with each other but you know what there are some problems that you just have to live with.) I image the clan would look for an omen and just pick a new leader based off of that and start the process all over again. In my experience worst comes to worst just make sure you have a very accurate family tree and trace it back a couple of generations.

Thank you so much! I don't play with any mods for Loudclan, I'm too scared to lose saves to less than stable code. My favorite mod currently is Kori's Awoogen though! I just like to look at the beautiful art mostly. I use mass extinction as population control, so I turn it on and off based on how many cats I have. Two full pages is the upper limit of what I'm willing to deal with, so once a third page opens I turn mass extinction on and after an extinction happens I turn it back off. (also if I dip below 1 full page I turn unknown parents on until I'm back to two pages again). I've found after a couple of generations you can mostly stop worrying about it because the bloodlines have spread so far there's always someone who's a 6th great great cousin or something.

The game generated him Dashpelt! I probably would have picked Dashfoot to stick with the generated them of a boring suffix but to make more sense overall.

#loudclan #loudclanasks #cw blood #minor blood waring #hey folks #the sketching process for moon 29 part three was an ABSOLUTE nightmare the details of which are staying between me and two weeks of ditched #panels but im happy to say that the sketch is finished 8 out of 30 panels are done and I'm very happy to introduce you guys to #the faint beginnings of my favorite ship!#also whatever Wildfirecry is doing #he's certainly doing... something!#clangen

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maxknightley · 10 months ago

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Which Touhou Girls Can You Plausibly Read As Butch? A Comprehensive Overview

Earlier on Tumblr I saw a post complaining that someone called Hecatia Lapislazuli from Touhou Project butch. This is Hecatia Lapislazuli:

Obviously, like most Touhou characters, she is in fact quite feminine - she just shops at Hell Hot Topic. But it got me thinking: In a series like Touhou, with a cast overwhelmingly defined by feminine (if rowdy) ladies, how many characters could you say are 'butch' without sounding like a complete doofus or significantly redesigning them to fit your headcanon?

CRITERIA

I'll be using four main criteria to judge characters' butchness. In real life, of course, butchness is a multivalent and extremely personal thing, but I'm talking about funny cartoon women from a video game here, so I'm willing to be a little reductive.

These criteria, in order of descending importance, are:

FASHION. In a series where goddamn near everyone is in either a dress or a skirt, the mere act of Wearing A Dress Shirt can be enough to make a powerful statement. Hats may also play a role here, given how many Touhou characters have gay little hats.

HAIRSTYLE. Short hair is not the be-all and end-all of butchness. I, myself, am Decidedly Butch even though I've been growing out my hair since college. But the length and styling of the hair are still a valuable indicator of how someone thinks of themself and wants to be seen.

'TUDE. Could this character be accurately described as "kind of a frat boy?" How do they speak to others? Do they just kind of seem like a character who ought to be butch, regardless of their looks? Do they even lift?

COMEDY FACTOR. Self-explanatory. This will probably only come into play if I run into a weird edge case.

I'll also emphasize that we're grading on a curve here - butchness is being assessed relative to the characters who do not appear on this list. Nobody in this series has a buzzcut, you know what I mean?

THE TIER LIST

AS CLOSE TO CANON AS WE'LL GET

Fujiwara no Mokou. The girl wears a dress shirt, fucking suspenders, and trousers. Not shorts, actual full-length pants. She's also in a perpetual love-hate mutual-murder situationship with Princess Kaguya, who is femme as all fuck. Obviously you don't have to be butch to date a femme - I'm just saying it feels Fitting given their whole deal.

Yuugi Hoshiguma. Most of the time, her fashion sense is actually quite feminine - but her look in the most recent chapter of Cheating Detective Satori, with the one exposed shoulder and the sarashi and all that, significantly alters the balance. Her hair actually reads as more masc to me when she keeps it long and unruly - when she puts it up in a ponytail, she ends up looking very kempt, even elegant. The deciding factor here is 'Tude: Her sheer levels of butch swag are off the fucking charts. (Still, I wouldn't blame someone for arguing she should be knocked down a tier - especially since I'd argue the Comedy Factor works in reverse here. She's way funnier if she doesn't think of herself as butch in the slightest.)

Minamitsu Murasa. In his original appearance I'd argue that Murasa is in "Reasonable" tier - maybe even as low as "Kind of a Stretch." But her big gay Jotaro jacket in Sunken Fossil World, combined with the emphasis on the weightiness and solidity of his trademark anchor, put her over the top. One of the only Touhou girls I consider worthy of being He/Himmed.

Shinmyoumaru Sukuna. The other He/Him-worthy Touhou girl. Very short, slightly messy hair; wears a kimono, not a dress; inheritor of Issun-Boshi's legacy; wears fucking dinnerware as a hat. Why do you want to be Big so badly, huh? So you can pick up women more easily? So you can carry your awful wife through the upside-down threshold of your upside-down bedroom?

Raiko Horikawa. For the longest time I thought her skirt was a pair of shorts because I straight up could not parse it as anything else. Even now I'm like "that can't possibly be a skirt, ZUN just drew it weird. She has to be wearing a full two-piece suit." Skirt aside, her jacket/dress shirt/necktie are still undeniable, as is her short hair. Also, she is a taiko drum given life, and I feel like taiko and timpanis are naturally butch. Maybe if she was a tambourine or a set of bongos I'd rank her lower?

Momoyo Himemushi. Rough-talking miner. Wears a dress shirt, leaves the top button(?) undone. Tromps around a big weird cave with no shoes or socks on. Wears bows and bangles basically everywhere but in her messy, tangled hair. Also, maybe I'm stereotyping here, but I just can't picture a centipede as being femme.

REASONABLE

Wriggle Nightbug. The dress shirt, cape, and puffy shorts all paint a vivid picture, but I just feel like I don't have a strong enough opinion on Wriggle as a character to put her in the top tier. In other words, she's got plenty of points for Fashion and quite a few for Hairstyle, but I just don't think the 'Tude is sufficient for me.

Reisen Udongein Inaba. The skirts are a strike against her, but her whole "dress shirt + necktie + sometimes suit jacket" thing makes a big difference, especially given that we're grading on a curve. Her rumpled ears and (particularly in Inaba of the Moon, Inaba of the Earth) pathetic demeanor go a long way towards giving her a vibe somewhere between "overworked salaryman" and "Detective Columbo."

Aya Shameimaru. All you need to know about Aya is that her "human reporter" disguise looks like This:

Mononobe no Futo. Butch, but in a really weird, circuitous way, imo. Like. She's sort of wearing a dress, but it's sort of a robe - the contrast of the hemline with her big flowy sleeves makes it hard to pin down - and her outfit quite notably has tassels rather than any kind of frills. I don't know what the hell is up with her hat but it's definitely not femme by any stretch of the imagination. Then thou hast the wayes in which she speaketh all "faux-olde-timey," even though nobody else in the setting does that... she transferred her soul into a plate, but she also throws plates around as weapons... It's like she's constantly putting on a performance that only she truly understands. It's like she reverse-engineered "masculine womanhood" by hanging out with a bunch of queens and doing kind of the same thing but kind of the inverse. The more I think about Futo the more I think she's entirely on her own wavelength, but I think "Reasonable" tier is a... uh, reasonable... approximation for the sake of this post.

Sagume Kishin. She dresses like if Bill Nye were a woman, and I think that cuts to the heart of it - she reminds me of a professor who you're not ever sure is gay, but you kind of pick up on a vibe, and near the end of the semester she offhandedly refers to "her partner" and you're like HOLY SHIT I KNEW IT. I went back and forth between putting her in "Reasonable" and "Kind of a Stretch"; ultimately, the Comedy Factor decided it because I couldn't stop thinking about a scenario where she says she's a woman, accidentally upends her whole understanding of gender in the process, and ends up taking testosterone while still ID'ing as a lesbian. I don't actually know if her powers would work that way and I don't care.

KIND OF A STRETCH

Eiki Shiki. I don't have a lot to go on, here, because she hasn't had many official appearances and seems to spend most of her time lecturing people or tormenting sinners. Her uniform(?)/apothecary outfit(??) is pretty snazzy; combined with the hat, it gives her a vaguely "military officer" look to me. We'll call her "butch pending further investigation," which I think she would agree is the correct course of action.

Sekibanki. She's here partially because of the cape, and partially because being sandwiched between Wakasagihime and Kagerou makes her look way more masc by contrast. I know what I said.

Ringo. It's pretty much just the hat and the pants, though - as a butch woman who Loves Eating - I am also inclined to project my own experiences onto her.

Aunn Komano. She reads as more "tomboyish" than outright "butch" to me, what with her whole puppy-dog vibe, but at the same time... she's very much wearing shorts and the kind of goofy-looking button-up shirt that is central to my own wardrobe and the wardrobe of other butches in my life. I'm willing to count her.

Takane Yamashiro. A living testament to the power of small character design choices. I would never in a million years call Nitori butch, even with her gay little hat and all the pouches on her outfit - she just looks like a girl scout. Takane, though? Takane, with her little hair swoopy, and the fucking suitcase slung over her back, and her camo-print dress? I mean - ultimately it is still a dress, which is why I can't justify scoring her higher, but she's definitely chewing tobacco and riding around on an ATV on weekends.

Chiyari Tenkaijin. If she's butch, it's not really because she's trying to be butch, it's just because being femme seems too expensive and time-consuming. She's got better things to do (drink blood all day). Still, I think an argument could be made.

DEFINITELY A STRETCH, BUT I RESPECT IT

Renko Usami. ZUN is kind of inconsistent with how he draws her hat - sometimes it's more of a porkpie/fedora type thing, other times it's round-topped and looks a bit like Koishi's hat. To me, this is a crucial distinction. In a more general sense, I feel like Renko's outfit gets a little less plausibly-masc with each passing album, which says a lot about our society. Or her society, anyway, since she lives in the future. Still, the capelets and bowties...

Rinnosuke Morichika. I think it would be really funny if the only significant male character in Touhou wasn't actually even a dude. I'm not aware of any real textual support for this interpretation, though.

Shou Toramaru. Pretty much only on here because of the hair and because I think there's a certain je ne sais quoi to her whole deal of "she's not a real tiger, she's the idea of a tiger that pre-Meiji Japanese people came up with from secondhand accounts."

Seija Kijin. Not even remotely butch by any stretch of the imagination... But if she did consider herself butch, isn't that exactly what she'd want you to think?

POTENTIALLY NOTEWORTHY EXCLUSIONS

Cirno. "Tomboyish" is not the same thing as "butch," to me, especially if you exclusively wear dresses. Also, I'm not sure Cirno even knows what a lesbian is.

Saki Kurokoma. Not actually butch, just a horse girl. (And a horsegirl.)

Mike Goutokuji. Can't tell if she's wearing a skirt or shorts. She's got short hair, sure, but the whole "matching bell collar and wristbands that also have bells attached" thing makes her look more like a Very Online Trans Woman who just figured herself out and hasn't started hormones or bought any new clothes yet.

#touhou #touhou project #crossposted from cohost after i spent like an hour on it.

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gabrielleyueerrrrr · 12 days ago

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A transcript on the latest AVG Q&A video

This transcript includes questions relevant to Alan's stick figures only.

This transcript is not a word for word repetition of the original video, I'll try to keep it as concise and as accurate as possible, but please take it with a grain of salt.

Will there be a stick figure with the hex code #724A6B?

Alan&DJ: (laughing while looking up the color, it's turns out to be dark purple)

Alan: I get this kind of question a lot. Probably not as a main character but as a background character. Main characters are usually more vibrant and saturated, aside from The Chosen One and Victim.

2. Since you've done a story arc for Green specifically, have you considered making similar story arcs for other members of the Gang?

Alan: Right now, I don't have plans for the others. For the Influener Arc, our initial goal was to make something about influcencers, then we selected which character best fit for the narrative. At first we wanted the main character to be Blue or Yellow, but we eventually decided that Green was the best choice. It wasn't that we specifically set out to make a story about Green.

DJ: I feel like if Yellow would be more like Alan if he decided to be a content creator. He would focus on creating the content instead of wanting all the attention.

Alan: Exactly. That being said, it's definitely possible that we make something for the others in the future. But it wouldn't be just for the purpose of giving the character a story arc.

DJ: Story comes first before the character.

3. What are your favourite character tropes and least favourite character tropes?

DJ: My least favourite trope is when characters receive powers they don't deserve, like when it comes too easily or when they're portrayed as inheritly better than everyone else. It often make the characters flat and uninteresting, especially when it doesn't serve the story. This is probably why I dislike Yellow after he recieved King's staff, not that I think his charater fell flat yet.

Alan: I like stories where every character is likable, both the protagonists and the antagonists. I'm not a fan of villains who are defined solely by their evilness and flaws, whose only purpose is just to be hated by the audiences. I want the villains in my story to be skilled, clever and worthy of respect, even if they are really evil.

DJ: I like characters who are true to themselves, even if they’re selfish or take advantage of others, as long as they fully embrace these traits, they can still be likable.

4. What pronouns do you use for the stickfigures?

Alan: I've always called all of them boys because that's what I've been seeing them as.

DJ: Well you're their dad so...

Alan: (laughs)

DJ: I think it doesn't really matter what gender they are as long as they are themselves.

5. How much of your series do you typically have planned out in advance?

Alan: I would at least have planned out the skeleton of the entire story before I work on the first episode.

6. Are the online ships between charaters real? What's your opinions on ships?

Alan: I give my fans the liberty to ship whatever they like, but I definity don't endorse any of them.

7. Who is the black solid head that appeared in various AVG video thumbnails and who apparently has powers similar to TCO? Will they appear in the upcoming AVA animations?

Alan&DJ: (Laughs)

DJ: Actually, I was the one who drew that thumbnail, I drew them on purpose. I knew what I was doing. You guys really pay attention to the thumbnails too much!

Alan: Currently I have no plans on introducing this charater into my series.

DJ: But it would be so funny if you do though!

#alan becker #animator vs games #dj welch #animator vs. animation #animation vs minecraft #ava influencer arc

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aerozin · 1 year ago

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my first attempt at drawing a biblically accurate Eclipse... except I drew them on a Nintendo 3DS

I added the shading and yellow by using the Medibang paint app :^) I'm really happy with how this turned out. I was kinda nervous to try and draw them because they have so much detail. It has been a really long time since I've drawn a complex character design

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nightghoul381 · 11 days ago

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Ellis Twilight ~ Main Route Both Endings Clear Bonus

Disclaimer for route warnings | Masterlist

Additional Content Warnings: Smut NSFT MDNI

This a fan translation so it is definitely not 100% accurate. I do not own anything related to Ikemen Villains. Support Cybird by buying their amazing stories!

I thought that my love would make the person I care about unhappy.

So I tried to think only about the other person.

If I did that, I wouldn’t make the people I cared about sad.

I believed I could offer love only to make the people I care about happy.

The truth is—Even at the moment I killed my brother, I may not have been able to offer him anything.

I think my brother was smiling happily that day.

But I also suspected that maybe I’d distorted my memory.

--In truth, I think he was just scared and afraid.

Like the people whose lives I’d taken as a member of Crown.

Such thoughts make my brother’s smile that day fade away.

To be honest, I can’t even remember the look on his face at the time.

(Is Kate still here?)

It had been about ten minutes since Kate had entered the shop alone, wanting to run a small errand.

It was taking a long time for shopping, and I was starting to get a little worried.

(If you’re having trouble deciding, I’ll let you choose slowly,)

(I wonder if she’s having trouble with strange people talking to her.)

While I was wondering whether I should go and look for her, I saw Kate through the glass window in the door.

(Ah… I’m glad you’re coming back--)

The relief was short-lived, as my heart soon began to flutter again.

Kate was having a friendly chat with the man walking behind her.

They seemed close to each other, with the man holding the door open for her and Kate thanking him with a smile.

I couldn’t even casually think “I like that about her” because it made my heart ache.

(--Who could that be?)

After parting ways with that person, Kate looked around and when she spotted me, she came running over with a smile on her face.

Kate: “Sorry for keeping you waiting.”

Ellis: “No, it’s fine… Did you know that man?”

Kate: “Yeah. He was a clerk at the general store who helped me out when I worked for the post office.”

Kate: “When I was assigned to deliver to an area where I hadn’t fully memorized the routes yet…I was panicking because I wasn’t going to be able to make my deliveries on time at all.”

Kate: “He told me about a shortcut and drew it on the map.”

Ellis: “Hmm, what a kind person.”

He seemed sincere and had a warm smile.

It was as if it were a completely natural habit to do when around a woman.

(I’m sure he’s someone who ‘does things for others’ quite naturally.)

(The more I like someone… the less I want to kill them.)

“He who kills people and laughs is the devil…”

“Repent and atone for your sins… you can still be forgiven.”

(Who forgives whom?)

(I just wanted my brother to remain happy.)

(Is the way I love unforgivable?)

Kate: “Ellis? What’s wrong?”

Ellis: “—Oh, it’s nothing.”

She was the first person I told everything about my past.

But still, Kate told me that she wanted me to love her selfishly.

(Since then… I’ve become more and more selfish.)

She was the only one who forgave me.

(It’s overflowing, and won’t stop.)

Ellis: “I’ll carry your bags.”

Kate: “! No, let me carry this to your room.”

Ellis: “…? Okay, understood.”

Ellis: “But… then we can’t hold hands.”

I gently tugged on Kate’s shoulders as she held the paper bag in both arms.

Ellis: “Can I do this instead?”

Kate: “…The roads aren’t that crowded, are they?”

Ellis: “No. It’s not so we don’t get separated… It’s because I’m feeling jealous of the man from before.”

Kate: “Huh?”

Ellis: “Also, doing this will warn off the many other people who are probably interested in you, Kate.”

Kate: “….”

Whenever I was being selfish, Kate would turn a little red, look troubled, and then…

Kate: “…Well, it can’t be helped.”

She happily forgave everything.

(That’s why… it’s overflowing and can’t be stopped.)

(Would you be mad if I told you that I still feel a little anxious?)

--Flashback—

Kate: “It’s not about ‘wanting to kill the person I love’”

Kate: “It’s more like ‘I want to keep my loved ones in happiness with my own hands.’”

Kate: “That must be… your true wish, Ellis. I felt that way when I saw you.”

Kate: “If you’re that ‘selfish’… I’m not afraid to end up being killed.”

(--Are you really not afraid?)

--End Flashback--

Ellis: “If you kill someone, it’s normal to feel even more pain, I guess.”

Jude: “Hah?”

Tonight too, I gently wiped off the blood-stained knife and put it back into its sheath on my leg.

There was a pool of blood at my feet that looked like someone had spilled jam.

Ellis: “But I… I’m fine with doing this kind of work.”

(Kate is a kind person who feels sad about things like this.)

That clerk at the general store I saw earlier today—I wonder if Kate would be happier if her lover was someone like that.

(But, I can’t believe that guy took Kate away from me.)

(I can’t forgive that.)

Jude: “Hah, what? You wanna be 'normal'?”

Ellis: “…No.”

I didn’t want to be someone else.

Because Kate fell in love with me.

Just—

(What should I do to make Kate smile?)

(I keep thinking about it.)

Kate: “Ah…Welcome home!”

Ellis: “Kate?”

When I finished my mission and returned to my room, Kate closed the book she was reading and looked up.

Lately, Kate had been watching me and Jude work and became interested in it.

So she’d often read and study books about business.

I thought that kind of earnestness was wonderful.

Ellis: “Were you waiting for me?”

Kate: “I thought I’d like to have a drink with you when you got back.”

I didn’t take Kate with me tonight because it had been a hard mission.

As fairy tale keeper, she should probably accompany us on missions as much as possible, but I really didn’t want to show her the bad ones.

(I’m sure Kate knows about it though.)

(…That’s why she was waiting for me, right?)

Kate: “Actually…here! I bought mugs for us, Ellis, so we can enjoy hot drinks in your room!”

Ellis: “…Could that have been your secret pre-lunch purchase?”

Kate: “Yeah.”

Kate smiled happily as she held out two mugs of the same design.

Kate: “What would you like? Hot milk, herbal tea…alcohol?”

Kate: “Drinking alcohol from a mug… that would be a bit strange, huh…”

As Kate stood up from the sofa to get the drinks ready—

I pulled her down toward me and hugged her tightly from behind.

Kate: “Ellis…?”

Ellis: “…Kate.”

Ellis: “Kate, you’re so good.”

Kate: “…”

Kate took a moment to catch her breath, then she rubbed her cheek against my arm.

Kate: “Mmm… Okay.”

Hearing her agree in such a sweet, melting voice, I ran my hands down her body.

(Kate’s body is soft all over…)

Every time I touched her body, which was completely different from my own, I felt a little worried.

(It seems like it would be easy to break it.)

Kate: “Aah…. Mmnnn….”

As I hugged her from behind,

I pulled down the front of her negligee and slowly kneaded her breasts, and Kate let out a cute moan.

Ellis: “You’re already like this… Do you like being made to stand?”

Kate: “…ngh, it’s different.”

Ellis: “Is that so?”

Kate: “When you hug me from behind… It feels like I’m wrapped up in you… ghahh… it makes me happy.”

Ellis: “…”

(That’s not okay… Kate.)

(That’s a little too cute.)

I kissed her ears and neck, and touched her favorite places.

My body was so hot it hurt, but I wanted to make Kate feel even better.

Ellis: “Well then, should we do it from behind today?”

Kate: “Aah….!”

Her walls tightened and squeezed around my fingers, and I couldn’t hold back any longer so I pushed Kate down on the bed.

(Aah…)

(My head is a mess.)

I wanted to feel good. I wanted to feel good together with Kate.

I leaned over and looked at her face, and saw Kate looking at me with eyes moist with tears.

(It looks like Kate wants to feel good too, that she wants me…)

(Is it my imagination?... I don’t know anymore.)

For her, for me, for all those things—everything was mixed up into a mess—

Kate: “Aah AAahh--!”

Ellis: “…Gha, Ahh…!”

I hugged Kate, who had fallen asleep exhausted, and gazed at her sleeping face.

Ellis: “…So cute.”

Sometimes the thought crosses my mind that this moment might be the happiest one yet.

I loved her again today, with my blood-stained hands.

I dreamed of one day staining my hands with her blood.

(…I want to stay like this, forever.)

(I’ll hold you in my arms.)

(I want to gaze at your happy, sleeping face.)

Many times, I hoped she wouldn’t wake up.

If that happened, tomorrow would never come.

There would be no end to the happiness.

Even the moment I killed her—

(Ah--)

Slowly, Kate lifted her thin eyelids.

Her eyes, still dream-like, appeared and looked at me.

Ellis: “…---”

Sorry, did I wake you?

I wanted to ask her that, but the words didn’t come out right away. She looked at me and said nothing—

Kate: “…Hehe.”

Kate giggled softly with happiness.

Ellis: “…? Why are you laughing?”

Kate: “Mmm… when I woke up, you were here, Ellis.”

Kate: “I thought…I feel so happy”

(--)

No matter how scared I was of tomorrow.

Even if I was worried that when that moment came someday, you might not really smile.

(I don’t think I can help but love this woman.)

No matter how many times you woke up from your blissful sleep, I could still see you smiling happily.

Your smile made me believe that.

Ellis: “…Kate.”

Kate: “Hmm…?”

Ellis: “I love you.”

Kate: “…mmm.”

Ellis: “I love you, I love you…so much.”

Kate: “Mm…hehe, is everything okay…?”

I buried my face in Kate’s hair as I held her close to my chest.

It smelled sweet, like reduced jam, and it made my chest feel tight.

Kate: “…Ellis, are you crying?”

I was about to reflexively answer ‘no’—but I realized that I no longer needed to hide those feelings.

Ellis: “…Yeah… I’m happy.”

Ellis: “I’m happy because I get to see you laughing.”

Kate: “…I see.”

Kate, who still seemed to be sleepy, raised her hands,

Stretching out to her fullest, she gently stroked my head.

Kate: “I love you too, Ellis.”

(I wouldn’t mind being killed right now.)

If I told you tomorrow morning that I really thought that, I’m sure you’d laugh again.

I’m sure there will be many more 'happiest moments' like this waiting for me in the future.

#ikemen villains #ikevil #ikemen villains translation #ikevil translation #ellis twilight #ikevil ellis #ikevil ellis twilight #ikemen villains ellis #ikemen villains ellis twilight #ellis twilight main route #smut #nsft #mdni

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skitskatdacat63 · 4 months ago

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Happy One Year Anniversary to Boy King AU!!!! 🎉

Okay wait before I start talking, look at these close ups and the process!! Aren't they so beautiful aaaahhhh

Wow, can you believe it’s really been a whole entire year since my very first post about this AU? Well technically I first started talking about the statuette a day earlier, but the very first sketch was exactly a year ago!! Let us not forget the incredibly prophetic tag on that post: “also in the sense of this au i think the only ship that would work(historically accurate wise) is Vettonso.” Who knew that after that my entire life would devolve into vettonso, this specific period of history, and the lovely combo which is Boy King AU. Also wow this means it’s taken me almost a whole entire year to actually draw a joint portrait of them hahaha. I drew this sketch around the beginning of the AU, but never finished it. It’s fine though because this one is a lot better, and I’m in love with it. Took me a year to draw a couple portrait, and took me almost a whole entire month to finish said piece.

Okay let me explain this piece, which I am very obsessed with!!! I dragged the process out more than I usually would, but I’m glad, because it was so enjoyable. But also look at that fucking crown, no wonder this took almost a month. Usually I’d write like 50 paragraphs detailing the characterization. HOWEVER! I’ve spent over a month writing little bits of characterization, mostly for fun, but also in preparation for this very post. A lot of the earlier ones, I had this drawing in mind, thinking on how I could expand on the ideas I was drawing. Though there’s definitely some things I could still write about. I’ll probably continue to write more Lore a Days, but yeah, they basically amounted to this drawing where you can actually see the characterization I was talking about displayed. Anyways, here are the explanations of bits in the drawing:

First of all, this is some part of the long process of their wedding. Look at the married couple!! Look at their rings!!!

Okay, but why are there two, almost identical looking pieces?? Because look at their hands!! I talked a lot about how Fernando is the one to give out affection more easily, especially in public, where he knows he can easily fluster Seb. He’s acting all grumpy and out of it, I mean to be fair, it’s probably been such a long ceremony across weeks. But he notices Seb is out of it too, just better at keeping his smile (let’s be honest, even if he’s distracted, he’s super smug.) So Fernando catches him off guard by squeezing his hand. Before that, as you can see, Fernando is just resting his hand on Seb’s outstretched palm, like that one scene from Succession. Very: yes I’m getting married, but I’m not happy about it. The combination of Fernando refusing to even touch him more than lightly beforehand but now going full force, them being in public, and Seb already being distracted catches Seb so off guard he has to try to cover his blush with his fan. He thought Fernando was being super impolite, but now he’s the impolite one!! Getting all blushy and giggly over a simple display of affection, perhaps even ha-

So. Their crowns. Seb’s wearing the crown of Austria, because he is in fact only a king still! Also, because I really wanted to try drawing it after I wimped out of it before in this drawing. Fernando’s a king as well by the point, but the fact he’s wearing only a tiara-like hairpiece is to represent how much of an outsider he still is. At this moment, he’s just Seb’s wi- ,I mean husband, to all these guests. Of course this bitch wears a black veil instead of a white one, to signal that he’s mourning the loss of his autonomy and personhood. Don’t worry too much about his mental state though, considering he’s not depressed enough to be able to resist teasing Seb.

The fan, oh my god. Back in this era, people would gift/make fans for basically any occasion. To symbolize an event, to celebrate something, to show a story, etc etc. I wish I could have drawn something more narrative, but I think the bull vs. horse is good enough. Also you can see those same symbols on the pendants they’re wearing!! I’m so happy when I can fit irl, modern stuff like that into these drawings, it feels so clever!!

It’s so funny, I wrote a lore a day from a prompt about what they’d be like when doing a joint portrait, while I was already almost through painting a dual portrait of my own! So I got to explain some stuff like their clothing colors and poses before I even posted this. I feel very coy about that still honestly.

Hmmm what else? It feels so weird to not expand on the characterization, considering I already did it for myself weeks in advance. I can’t imagine what it’s like opening this read more, and seeing more than 10 in-text citations. Happy reading!!!

Happy anniversary to this wonderful, crazy AU that makes me download 500pg German papers about 18th century etiquette. I drew a couple pieces of fanart before this AU, but I definitely think it jumpstarted my insanity about drawing/making AUs, and literally is what made me insane about Vettonso in the first place. Remember, if I hadn’t learned about Joseph I/Charles VI, most of my blog probably wouldn’t exist in it's current form. Thank you if you’ve stuck around since the beginning, or if you’re even just learning about it now!! It’s so incredibly niche but I’ve had so much fun researching and building this world and these characterizations, and I hope you’ve enjoyed what I’ve made in the process. I hope I can draw/write many more things in the future. I think next, I’m gonna maybe open up requests. I’d like to try to either write ficlets or draw chibi comics about specific Lore a Day posts on request. I think that’d be a lot of fun, but also will probably kill me. We’ll see!! Anyways. PPlease enjoy this absolute labor of love, which is a result of a year’s worth of work.

#idk why I decided that the best time to write all that was right when I have to sleep #who cares about the race!? its boy king au day!!!!!!#waughhhhhh i cant believe its been a yearrrrrrrrr #they are my sons. my babies. borderline ocs im ngl.#i fear that one day soon imma lose my interest in f1 but then just keep posting niche fanart LMFAO #look forward to that day <3 #weird to think its been an entire year and think about how much has changed since that day #im really glad ive stuck with this even though its gotten hard for me sometimes #the past month or so has been a lot more creative than i thought #and im glad it could all result in this #it was so weird drawing this over like a month #i didnt wanna finish it too soon and then dislike it when the day actually came #so thats actually why i started writing lore a day. so i could have smth creative to do in the meantime #again. ty if youve been with me since teh beginning of this and if youre just seeing this now. i love you all dearly #thank you for supporting me and this crazy idea :) it makes it 100x more enjoyable #f1 #formula 1 #<- SOOOOO FUNNY TO TAG THESE LMAO #sebastian vettel #fernando alonso #vettonso #boy king au #catie.art.

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roobiedo · 11 days ago

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woe, banana trishaw be upon ye 🍌🚲

happy Solarpunk Aesthetic Week! today i give you: little concept doodle. tomorrow, who knows? 🤷

been thinking about what transportation would look like in the solarpunk noon story i've been slowly working on. rickshaws have long been a part of Asian history, and bananas play a huge role in our local culture, so i made them do the kiss and this thing was born! more details below~

is this rickshaw design functional from a technical standpoint? no, but it's okay. close your eyes. take my hand. let's imagine a better world i drew a trishaw that is anatomically accurate and focus on the fancy, scientifically-questionable features instead ✨

since in my region winter doesn't exist (yet...), my main priority was designing a vehicle that can make use of our 2 beloved seasons: hot and wet <3 i was trying to do something cool with the concept of evapotranspiration, but i don't reeeally know if this idea holds water (haha). so if any smarter folks wanna take a crack at it, i will love you forever

ok wait lemme show my inspirations

i definitely tuk some ideas from the Thai style Tuk Tuks, probably one of the most well-known modern versions of the rickshaw (the last time i rode on one my hat literally flew off in the first ten seconds. 10/10).

but my MAIN inspiration. the reason i came up with this idea in the first place...

Absolute. Bootleg. Absurdity. are you seeing this???

okay so this is in Melaka, and they are obviously tourist traps, but i love them ok. i Love them. look at how far we can push the boundaries of our silly, of our creativity. we could have this sort of whimsy EVERY DAY!!!

plus, the uncle who drove my family around last time was so enthusiastic about taking us around! he infodumped non-stop about the history and cultural significance of every landmark we passed, while laughing the whole time, and i just think that's beautiful.

and what's more solarpunk than stuffing a local beca to the brim with all the little things that we love?

look at this. imagine if they were Real, Living flowers. imagine hopping into one of these every morning. a little roving, rolling garden, taking you wherever you wish to go. each beca frame lovingly customized, harboring their own unique little ecosystems. tiny worlds to discover. imagine that subtle floral fragrance accompanying you, as you chat with your driver on the way back home. maybe you're the driver. maybe you're just a passerby, but a glimpse of that interaction is enough to make your day. maybe this can be our life. are you sold? i'm sold.

#this turned from an art post into a very personal thoughts dump and honestly? im thriving #you will look at SEAsian solarpunk and you Will like it!!!!#art #artists on tumblr #solarpunk #solarpunk aesthetic week #rickshaw #roobiedoodle #roobieramble #sorry for all the silly lines. im sleep deprived and in a jokey mood dhsjk #ohhh if you ask me about my story i will love you forever ever ever #i wanted to post a prototype of it this week but i couldnt make the deadline :(#but answering Qs might help with the worldbuilding so!!!#you can ask me about the rickshaw design too but chances are i will just cry because i Dont Know #this post is brought to you by Can't Ride A Bike Gang btw 🔥🔥🔥 we out here..............h

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lilacxquartz · 2 months ago

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Ahah, sending in an ask...

Kenjaku with reader who's basically an antromorphised version of the merger 👀💜

I'd request brainjaku, but we won that already 🎉🥳

merging with you;

kenjaku x humanised merger gn!reader

plot: you had a unique ability that kenjaku was quite literally drawn to — themes: suggestive content but not smut; i was focusing on abstract imagines 😮‍💨, lore accurate yapping, gn!reader — w.c: THIS WAS MEANT TO BE BELOW 800 BUT KENNY TALKS TOO MUCH ‼️💢 (1.1k)

a/n: might revisit this idea again in the future again since i have more ideas for it, thank you for putting this idea in my head <3

The merger could have taken on many different forms when finally realised and Kenjaku had already envisioned a whole flurry of different possibilities. So, in a way, a humanoid materialisation was something that they didn’t predict, but as they watched on from a distance with just how easily you assimilated everything into your very being, they couldn’t help but grow more and more fascinated with each passing second.

You seemed to approach others with an intelligent type of curiosity; your wisping shadowy fingers reaching towards people, willing them, blurring and finally merging them into your own existence.

At long last, Kenjaku stepped closer, equal parts terrified of their life’s work but also deeply captivated by your form. Their eyes roamed over your impossible body, existing as nothing more than a sentient void that only just barely resembled a person. Their eyes were fixated, obsessively locked onto you; drawn to both the mystery and the danger that you embodied. Somehow, an arousal grew from within them too, almost frustratingly driving themselves into madness from the prospect of becoming one with something like you.

You watched on with a curious whirring droning sound thrumming away passively, tilting your head away to the side as the familiar sorcerer drew closer. Your eyes locked onto theirs, glowing eerily in the darkness as you bored into their soul.

They closed the gap even more, feeling a unique excitement as their fingers didn’t quite touch you, but hovered over your fluidly shifting form. The sensation of their self slowly pulled into your being sent a pleasant shiver through their body, almost tempting them to connect with your touch.

The idea of becoming one with essentially a… man made god—not quite omnipresent but close enough—was almost too much for them to comprehend. All of their life’s work stood right before them and it was so hauntingly beautiful.

Finally, they spoke up, their voice coloured with unease although with equal parts awe, “I… want to feel it.”

They weren’t entirely sure just how much you could understand, since you had never once made the attempt to talk—not that you ever needed to—but it was surely a rush; the idea of merging one’s essence with yours was almost intoxicating, dare they even say, an exhilarating prospect.

Vining tendrils of shadows wrapped around their fingers as they drew closer, rooting them into your grasp. The void-like flames rolled clean around their skin, coating them in a warm, enveloping fire.

To their surprise, you responded with a dark, almost alluring purr, “You want to… feel what it’s like to be absorbed into me?”

However before Kenjaku could respond, you continued to ask them more and more of a similar question; your once seductive tone morphing into something sinister, almost inhuman despite that being the heart of your markup.

“To lose yourself… in me?” you asked again. “…To become a part of something… greater, more powerful than yourself?”

With an unblinking stare, their eyes wide and manic, Kenjaku didn’t hesitate for a moment before nodding with almost feverish anticipation. “Yes. I want to experience that and more.”

With curious intent, you studied them before pulling away. “Why?”

This prompted a surprised laugh from them as they took a step after you. “It’s quite simple, really. Long have I been chasing the truest, final form of evolving humanity. To be able to unlock it and even experience it, be it in my own control or not, is a possibility that I can’t let slip up.”

“Even if it means… letting go of yourself?” you asked the ancient sorcerer, curiously studying their demeanour.

“I have always and I mean always, sought the potential of transcending the mortal limits of the countless vessels I have harboured throughout centuries,” they continued, “every single body I have ever inhabited, every cursed technique I have ever possessed—was one step further towards this.”

You reached towards them again, their body responding with an almost instinctual pull that drifted towards yours.

You stared blankly. “Towards me?”

Their smile widened from something anxious and instead into something unsettling; their resolve strengthening with each spoken word, “Yes, towards this—towards you. One could say that it’s the unpredictability and the chaos that excites me, perhaps it’s the idea of experiencing the outcome forced by an impromptu evolution on such a devastating scale. I… I can’t help but be drawn to such a prospect. To say that it’s exciting to me is an understatement.”

“Even if it… breaks the world?” you asked.

They scoffed, seeing no issue with the prospect. “Especially then. The world was designed to be broken. What fun is it when we as a species have been at a standstill for such a long time? No. Someone has to stir the pot. The world can rebuild itself again after if need be—but only after we, as a species, have ascended into our truest, most final form. So please, let me surrender myself to you.”

Allowing a moment to pass, you finally stepped back into his personal space, allowing for your shadows to wrap around and envelop them. Your swarming inky form latched onto their body, reeling them closer into your insubstantial embrace. Their breathing was ragged, although unafraid; their arousal only growing more intense, overpowering any lingering fear with heightened desire.

You allowed for them to press into your form, feeling as evidence of their longing need pressed against your body, pulling them impossibly closer while the essence of your very being both shifted and moulded with theirs alike. With creeping tendrils spearing out like climbing stems under their robe, each flicker gently caressed over their clammy skin. Unable to quite determine where to touch or where to go, they simply just moved wherever felt right; pushing towards you with feverish need.

“Let me consume you…” you trailed off in a hungry whisper, willing them to move even further within your shadow, “let me devour you…” you repeated, again and again.

The pull grew stronger, almost somehow thicker as your very essence of being threatened to absorb them. Their gasping soon blurred into your droning breath, feeling themselves dissolve into your form and become one with you.

With continued encouragement, you eased them into the sensation, “Don’t try to fight it, let go of yourself and become me as I become you.”

As you finally allowed them to assimilate, the presence of a new consciousness formed, as though sharing a headspace with your own self the moment you allowed them to become one with you.

It was surely subtle enough, but trace hints of their imbued essence was surely still there; their ensnared hope for humanity burning bright within your core, ready to merge with and witness the end of the old world right at your side.

masterlist • ao3

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bellaxgiornata · 2 years ago

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All These Years [Part 6: "The White Whale"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

[You can find the full series summary and masterlist of installments for All These Years here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut

Word Count: 4k

a/n: This installment is entirely in Matt's POV! Probably one of the only ones in this series that will be. As I was writing I knew I needed to do a last minute title change to this installment, too, because it went in a different direction. Hopefully what you learn from this installment only makes everything in this series hurt so much more. There are end notes on this, too because I feel like you'll need it. Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @acharliecoxedfan @theetherealbloom @rotscinema @magnumstyles @roseallisonparker @ofmusesandsecrets @readerhead @paracosmic-murdock @v4leoftears @why-always-me-gosh-please @redbircl @keepingitlokiii @yarrystyleeza @mattkinsella @ms-murdockswift

“This place isn’t so bad,” Foggy mused.

Matt could hear the way Foggy’s head turned, clearly taking in the view of the dive bar around them. It smelled pungently of must and mildew and clearly there had been a good bit of alcohol spilled and left to dry along the floors, but otherwise it was alright here. At least it wasn’t too loud. The classic rock music playing over the speakers wasn’t blaring like the pop music playing in most bars he’d gone to always was. It never failed to give him a headache and make him duck out early.

“Well it’s not that loud, at least,” Matt replied.

Foggy nudged Matt’s arm with his elbow sharply. Matt could hear the pull of Foggy’s muscles drawing his mouth into a smile. He wished he could work himself up into even a sliver of that excitement for tonight.

“Come on,” Foggy pressed. “It’s the first night in a while that we’ve gotten out and have been able to do something that doesn’t involve paperwork. And we’re getting the three amigos back together again! Smile, dammit!”

Matt’s focus dropped towards the table, his hand tightening around the neck of his bottle of beer. He hadn’t had a chance to see you in weeks, and it had been weeks before that, too. Landman and Zack had managed to keep him and Foggy plenty busy since the three of you had graduated a few months back. And he was happy to finally see you again–that is, he would’ve been if it actually was going to be just the three of you tonight. But no, you were bringing a boyfriend . The first one you’d actually ever had since Matt had known you.

And it had made him sick to his stomach thinking about it all day today.

“Yeah, it’s been a while,” was all he could muster in response.

He drew his beer to his lips, taking a long pull. He was hoping to get at least a buzz going before the two of you showed up. He didn’t want to be sober having to listen to the way your body reacted to your boyfriend all night.

The truth of it was, Matt wanted you. And he’d wanted you since he first met you.

No, actually, that wasn’t accurate, either.

Matt had wanted you for an entire semester before he’d ever actually met you in the library. He had first encountered you on campus in the late evening. He’d overheard someone trip on the sidewalk farther up ahead of him, spilling their books and their papers everywhere. They’d quietly cursed to themselves as they knelt down to collect their things. Matt could tell they’d been close to tears, too. He figured they’d been having a bad day already as they quietly fumed to themselves while others just passed them by on the sidewalk, leaving them to pick up their scattered belongings alone.

But then you’d stumbled upon them, stepping off to the side and crouching down to help them pick up the mess without hesitation. You’d sounded sweet and gentle when you’d greeted them, offering them some kind words and a warm smile that Matt thought he could almost feel as he eavesdropped. He’d oddly found himself affected by you, taking a moment to pause on the side of the sidewalk, pretending he was checking a voicemail on his phone as he tuned into your interaction. He had felt like a creep but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

And then he'd been fascinated by you afterwards, your voice and the scent of you plaguing his mind. He'd spent weeks trying to run across you on campus again. He'd lied and told Fog he'd actually bumped into you that night since he was unable to tell him how he'd really stumbled on you. His heightened senses were a secret even to Foggy. But then he and Foggy had often talked about you afterwards–the pair of them had spent all semester referring to you as Matt's White Whale. He'd been relentlessly searching for you around campus whenever he wasn’t busy with his studies or on a date. But then he'd discovered you around the science buildings right before the beginning of winter break. Unfortunately you’d managed to disappear during those few weeks before the next semester started, Matt being unable to pick up on you again.

He'd then spent all of winter break telling Fog how he'd planned to linger around that building when classes resumed, hoping to catch your voice again–or in reality, the scent of your pheromones and the beat of your heart. He was certain he’d recognize both of them. Him and Fog had spent many a night throwing back beers and coming up with many amusing and ridiculous schemes of how Matt might actually have a chance to meet you.

When classes did resume that following semester, Matt had often frequented the science building in his free moments. And even though Matt had still gone out and enjoyed the attention of other women during that time–something that had been quite a thrilling contrast from his life before college, considering he’d come fresh from St. Agnes–he couldn’t seem to shake you from his mind. Many times he caught himself wondering where he could take you on a date, or what your favorite food might be. He desperately wanted to know what subject you studied. He wanted to know your name and how your voice sounded when you finally said his. He wondered what music you liked and what your shampoo would smell like if he ever had the chance to press his nose into your hair.

And then one fateful day when he’d been at the library working on research for a class, he’d caught the scent of you unexpectedly. His mouth had gone dry and his mind had momentarily gone blank in surprise. You were there. In the library. With him.

It had sounded like you were on your phone and making your way towards him. Matt had panicked, unsure in the moment how to actually catch your attention and strike up a conversation. In his haste to make sure his chance hadn’t disappeared on him, he’d abruptly stepped out of the aisle he was in, arms laden with books, and accidentally miscalculated how far away you were. You’d ran right into him and startled him in return, causing him to drop his books on the ground and your toe. He felt awful when he’d heard you shout but then he couldn’t resist the laugh at your strange outburst.

But when you’d actually looked at who you’d run into, Matt had instantly picked up on all the telltale signs of your physical attraction to him. The increase in your pheromones had driven him crazy and his nerves completely disappeared, that confidence he had with every other young woman he’d flirted with on campus quickly taking over.

He thought he’d had you that day. It seemed a sure thing when he’d asked for your number and you’d given it to him. But then he invited you over to his dorm a few days later on Saturday night. He had every intention to take you out on a date and bring you back to an empty dorm room–if he was lucky enough and you’d wanted that. Because God he had certainly been thinking about you in very sinful ways over those few days. His thoughts had been driving him wild and he desperately hoped sex with you would help ease those persistent and nagging desires. If he could just experience it, maybe you wouldn’t be clouding his damn senses and taking up so much space in his thoughts. Though he worried if he got a taste he’d just want more, like you were some sort of drug to him.

But you’d shown up early that night, and Matt hadn’t technically called it a date. He’d asked for you to ‘hang out’, which admittedly was what he always called it. Usually the women he spent time with knew what he meant, but you’d shown up early and Foggy hadn’t left yet. He’d inevitably introduced the pair of you, hoping to segue into you and him leaving–but you and Foggy had instantly hit it off.

You’d both bonded over a Red Hot Chili Peppers song Foggy was playing, apparently it being both of yours’ favorite song by them. And then that turned into a long discussion about music and the bands you’d both seen, which had led to jokes being shared. Your laughter had sounded amazing to Matt’s ears, but he’d sat there on the end of his bed dumbfounded. You and Fog had almost identical interests. You so quickly warmed up to him. And he could read your body’s reaction that night–you were eliciting all of the signs of attraction.

To Foggy.

While Matt was just sitting there on his bed, you were beside Foggy displaying every sign to Matt that you were interested in Foggy . Not him.

It had crushed him. All of those weeks of trying to find you, all of those nights of you plaguing his mind, and you liked Foggy . He hadn't even told Fog you were the White Whale ahead of time, hoping not to jinx things, but in the end things had wound up going awry for Matt anyway.

He’d tried to remain hopeful that he’d gotten it wrong, but then the pair of you began Saturday nights as a weekly thing. Both of you were always texting after that. And you always seemed so eager to come over to see him. Always spending so much time with him. And every time you showed up, you’d be giving off every damn clue that you were attracted to him. It only took a couple of weeks before Matt gave up and went back to what he’d been doing–sleeping around. He couldn’t have you, so he figured he’d have whoever else he could. And when Foggy had asked him about his White Whale again, he’d sadly told him it hadn’t worked out. He’d never mentioned the White Whale again.

Though it was always strange to Matt that you’d never done anything more with Foggy. Anytime Matt hadn’t been around for the Saturday nights the pair of you spent together and he had occasionally popped back in, you often reacted like he’d interrupted something, your body going into overdrive. But you were always studying or hanging out, never anything more.

It didn’t make sense until he’d finally gotten something like an answer out of you that one night he’d upset you at the bar. He’d had a brief moment of hope when he heard your body reacting as you were looking at him, wondering if it was actually him you were reacting to like that first time in the library. He’d somehow hoped in that moment that he’d gotten everything all wrong, that it was him that you somehow liked all this time, and in his haste to say the right thing, he’d said the wrong thing. Especially with that stupid comment about being your wingman. And he’d really upset you to the point that you’d left the bar early near tears. He wanted to chase after you but he had no reason to realistically do so–he wasn’t supposed to be able to know you were crying as you walked back to your dorm, but he did. So when Foggy had spotted Marci, he’d been thrilled to have an excuse to leave, dodging some woman who’d tried to sleep with him before hurrying after you.

But then you’d broke his heart again because you were upset over Fog. He couldn’t deny it after you’d admitted to only being seen as a friend by the person you had feelings for and then breaking down crying on him. Because Matt had been too thoughtless with his words and told you Foggy was chatting with Marci–the girl you both knew he’d been talking about recently. Why else would you have started crying? If you’d had feelings for him he was certain you’d have said something then and there with how he’d been trying to talk you up all night. Telling you any guy would be lucky to take you on a date–which obviously included him.

That night had cemented it for him. You were in love with Foggy. As much as Matt hated seeing how hurt you were sitting in the friend zone with him, he selfishly didn’t want to bring it to Foggy’s attention because he knew it would absolutely kill him to watch Foggy with you . The one he could never get out of his head. He did his best to ignore it as the months and years went by, intentionally trying to ignore whatever your body was doing because it hurt too fucking much to listen to it.

When Elektra had come into his life, she’d certainly been the first one to come close enough to shaking you from his mind. He’d fallen for her fast and hard, especially when she saw every single dark part about him and still never turned him away. She saw him for everything he was–including his heightened senses that neither you nor Fog had any clue about–and she loved him for it. Or, he thought she had. And even she had pointed out how crazy you seemed about Foggy. How you were attached to his hip like a lovesick puppy she’d said. How you always spent all your time with him. Her words only further cemented it in his mind that he would never have you. Not as anything more than his best friend.

That knowledge broke him twice as hard when Elektra left. Because you’d been there for him, encouraging him. Being the absolutely wonderful, beautiful person you were. He didn’t deserve it, either. He’d been an asshole to you when he’d been with Elektra. He was still being an asshole to you when he continued to keep his mouth shut to Fog about your feelings–because he was selfish and never wanted to see you with him. Instead he’d eventually gone back to burying himself in a different girl when he had the chance, especially the closer it had gotten to graduation. He was afraid he’d lose you after the three of you graduated from Columbia, the dark thought constantly lingering in his mind.

He’d almost kissed you that night, too. That night it was just you and him cuddled together on his bed after graduation. The last night in your dorms. He’d been overcome with the urge to just tell you everything and kiss you, but then he’d caught the feeling of your panic when he’d so carefully cradled your face in the palm of his hand, desperate to finally feel your lips on his. To hear you tell him you cared for him, too. But all he’d felt was your fear in that moment instead. You must’ve realized he was about to say something, that he’d been about to possibly kiss you, and you panicked at the thought of it. Because Foggy was asleep in the bed across from both of you and you loved him . So he’d bit the words back and said the first thing that came to his mind instead of what he really wanted to. And it fucking killed him to do so.

Now, here you all were getting together months later, and you were bringing your boyfriend. Clearly you’d tried to move on from Fog, but that didn’t make things hurt any less for Matt. He hadn’t moved on from you. He wasn’t sure if he ever would be able to at this rate. And he certainly tried–he’d fucked a few interns at Landman and Zack, but none of them made him forget how it felt to wake up beside you that morning he had after Elektra had left him.

“Oh hey, I think that’s them!” Foggy said excitedly.

His words drew Matt back to this miserable moment, the sound of Foggy’s hand waving the pair of you over only deepening the frown on his face. He didn’t want this asshole here with his arm around you. Probably kissing you in front of him. He wanted to be the one doing that. Not this random guy who’d recently popped into your life and didn’t know you like Matt did. It felt wrong .

“Hey guys!” your cheery voice greeted the pair of them.

Matt quickly did his best to tune out the sound of your body and ignore the faint scent of your arousal that abruptly hit him when you’d reached the table. His hand tightened around his bottle of beer again. Your boyfriend’s scent was mixed with yours and it didn’t sit right with Matt. It pissed him off, actually. For some reason he really wanted to hit this guy.

Foggy greeted you brightly with your name and then he felt your eyes land on him expectantly. The smile noticeably faltered on your face, he could hear it in the way your muscles shifted. Raising his head from the table, he forced a smile onto his mouth and greeted you with your name in return.

“Guys this is Liam,” you said, introducing your boyfriend.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you!” Foggy exclaimed, reaching out a hand. “I’m Foggy.”

Liam reached out, accepting the handshake in return. Matt ground his teeth together as he listened to the interaction.

“I’ve heard so many stories about you both,” Liam was saying, his attention turning to Matt as Foggy released his hand. “You must be Matt, right?”

Matt knew Liam was extending a hand out towards him, he heard the air shift in front of him when he did. He also knew it was usually the polite thing to do to at least extend his own hand out when he introduced himself, allowing the other person to reach out and shake his hand. But he didn’t want to shake Liam’s hand. He didn’t want to be his friend. He didn’t want him here .

“Yeah, that’s me,” Matt replied.

He heard the way Liam’s hand awkwardly lowered back to his side after a few uncomfortable seconds. He could practically feel the three sets of eyes on him. That had been rude, but he didn’t care.

“How about I get us a drink?” Liam asked, turning to you.

“Sure, that’d be great!” you responded. “A beer would be good.”

When Liam leaned towards you and kissed you, Matt thought he was going to break the beer bottle with how hard he was gripping the neck of it. He even caught the light tap to your ass before he’d sauntered off to the bar, wishing he could’ve been as oblivious to that as Foggy was. Or to the way it’d made you blush.

“You seem happy,” Foggy said, reaching across the table and playfully slapping your shoulder. “How’ve you been?”

“Good!” you answered, your tone bright. “The job’s gotten a lot better now that the stress of being the newbie is past. How’ve you guys been? How’s the internship going? Still busy?”

Foggy blew out an exaggerated breath. “ Exhausting . We’ve been drowning in paperwork and menial tasks, but there’s apparently two positions opening up in a few months and I think Matt and I are in line for it.”

“Oh my God!” you exclaimed, your attention turning towards Matt. “That’s awesome! You guys deserve it!”

Matt’s heart might have skipped a beat at the sound of your excitement for them. He noticed your eyes lingering on him. Probably because he was being uncharacteristically silent tonight. And rude.

“So how’d you meet Liam? How long have you both been together?” Foggy asked, bringing his beer to his mouth for a drink.

Matt could tell you’d nervously ducked your head at the question, tucking some hair behind your ear. It was cute. You were cute. He wished you acted like that when asked about him instead of Liam .

“Just a couple of weeks,” you admitted. “It’s still new. I actually met him at a coffee shop–or, technically outside of it. We sort of grabbed each others’ drinks on accident. He was the one who’d noticed, I was just hurrying to get back home for work. He’d had to chase me down a block.”

You laughed and the sound was like a knife to Matt’s heart. You liked this guy. And that fucking hurt.

“He was sweet and had some terrible jokes,” you continued. “For some reason he asked me out to dinner and then, well–” you shrugged, “–here we are now.”

You cleared your throat, your attention nervously darting to Foggy and then back to himself before you ducked your head again. Matt’s eyes narrowed behind his glasses curiously, wondering what that had been about until you spoke again.

“So uh, are you two seeing anyone?” you asked.

Your tone was pitched higher than usual and Matt instantly guessed the reasoning. His eyes closed behind his glasses, his heart further sinking in his chest.

You still liked Foggy, didn’t you? He’d never have a chance with you.

“Well it turns out Marci is actually interning at Landman and Zack, too,” Foggy replied. “But uh, she still isn’t too interested in being serious. But I’m working on her!”

Your attention shifted to him, your heart having sped up at Foggy’s words. Probably upset because he was still pursuing Marci instead of you. He could sympathize with your heartache.

“And…what about you, Matt?” you asked, voice suddenly quieter.

He focused on you standing directly across from him at the table. You were gripping it firmly in both of your hands, your heart still beating a little faster after Foggy’s admission. He swallowed hard, trying to hide his emotions behind his glasses.

Still hopelessly in love with you.

“Ever the bachelor,” he said with a tense smile. “You know me.”

You’d opened your mouth to respond, but Liam had appeared at your side, cutting you off. He handed you your beer and you’d smiled when he’d kissed you on the cheek. Matt’s attention dropped back down on the table, his jaw clenched yet again. This was going to be a long night, he could already tell.

Maybe he could find an excuse to head out early. Claim he wasn’t feeling well or something. There was something he was thinking about doing tonight, something he’d recently picked up. The thought of it was sounding better and better the lower Liam slid his hand down your back. And it’d certainly be a better outlet beating an asshole who truly deserved it than your boyfriend. Plus if Foggy wasn’t at the apartment, well, then it’d be all the easier for him to slip in and out. Though he really needed to focus on getting his own place soon so he could keep his nightly activities private. He certainly couldn’t tell either of you what he got up to in the evenings. Maybe he’d just use the excuse to Fog that he needed his own place to bring women back to without having to constantly worry about a roommate. He’d surely buy that line. He already thought he was often out sleeping around as it was.

For the next half hour, Matt quietly drank down his beer, barely adding much to the conversation unless you or Foggy had directly acknowledged him. Shortly after he’d finished his drink, he’d made up an excuse about a bad headache. Despite the boisterous round of protests from you and Foggy, he’d departed the bar and made his way back to the apartment. When he’d gotten there, he’d wasted no time quickly dressing in the all black outfit he kept hidden in the false bottom of his father’s steamer trunk at the foot of his bed. Pulling the fabric of a mask over the majority of his face, he slipped out of his bedroom window, landing on the fire escape almost soundlessly. And then he was off scouring the rooftops of Hell’s Kitchen, ready to loose the anger he’d kept inside of himself tonight on someone who truly deserved it.

[END NOTES--which are always on my AO3 fics and give more insight & I figured some of you might want it for this installment]

Reader has a boyfriend in here! And we find out Matt has had feelings for Reader long before that interaction at the library. And he's been repeatedly misinterpreting her body to think that it's Foggy she's reacting to instead of him (even if he's aware of the physical attraction she has to him), especially with the knowledge that she has feelings for a friend. Doesn't help that Elektra intentionally fed him lies to further push that idea into his mind. Not to mention, Reader does panic when Matt is about to kiss her on graduation night, and Matt completely misreads the reasoning behind her body's reaction. And these idiots both keep saying that they're each other's 'friend' repeatedly. Plus it probably doesn't help that Matt intentionally tries to ignore her body so he doesn't have to hear it reacting to Fog (when really its him). And clearly Reader is often misinterpreting Matt's reactions to things (and he's also hiding it).

There you have it folks. They're both hopelessly in love with each other and have been for years. But no one is opening their damn mouth. Now Reader is dating someone else.

Oh, and Matt is now becoming the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, if you didn't catch that. But Foggy thinks he's out sleeping around. And therefore Reader probably does, too.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock angst #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock fic #daredevil x female reader #matt murdock

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clockworkphoebe · 9 months ago

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{{{ WIP: The Spine Custom Ken Doll }}}

So, this is actually a project that I started back in the summer of 2020. My sister (@arcticusluna) had been making custom doll clothes for a while and she wanted to start a full doll customization project. When she told me about it we thought it would be fun to do it together. She was going to make a Rabbit custom and I would make a Spine custom.

I still have quite a bit left to go before finishing this. I still plan to add stripes, buttons, and pocket to the vest and to make some edits to the hat I ended up finding and settling with. I also had plans to make his long trench coat. but that will probably be a project for the future. I honestly just wanted to post this since I worked really hard on it but just haven't had the time/motivation to finish it yet.

The Rabbit my sister made will probably not be posted as the paint and glaze we used have deteriorated quickly on her over the last few years and we are unsure as to why, considering that we used the same materials and mine only has a few minor issues. We think it may have been the doll she started with as the rubber seemed to be a lot more flimsy and soft. She might post the clothes or parts of the doll later.

Work in progress photos and process under the read more:

For the edits on the face I used 2-part Apoxie Sculpt. I would lightly score the rubber after removing the hair and then gently shape the apoxie to the face. After getting it as smooth as possible I lightly sanded it. The lines on his head and faced were referenced from the Hot on the Trail music video.

The fins were probably the most challenging part. I cut out paper to the sizes I wanted and made marks where I wanted the fins placed. Then I cut pieces of cardboard to size and covered them with a thin layer of apoxie to make them more sturdy and smooth. once the fins were cleaned up I scored the back of the doll and carefully molded the spines to the back. This was very tedious as they tended to not hold in place when the apoxie was still drying. It was also hard to get the spacing right so that the back was still movable/posable. They are not completely accurate to the Spine's but the bases had to be widened so that they would be more sturdy and attach to the back properly. Once everything was dry, I sanded it the best I could and began painting. I used FolkArt acrylic paints and then a glaze top coat. If I were to do this again I would probably have primed the doll first and use spray paints instead so that the layering was more even and smooth.

As I was working on the main doll, I was also working on the guitar. The guitar was made entirely from scratch since I really didn't like any of the doll/model guitars that I found. Most were extremely thin/cheap or not really to scale. I used my own acoustic guitar for scale and then drew out The Spine's guitar as close as I could with the proper dimensions. From there, I cut multiple layers of cardboard until I got the right thickness. The bottom two layers were full, the middle layers were hollowed out in the center, the top layer had the sound hole cut, and an extra layer for the neck was made and rested on top. I glued all these layers together, and like the fins, I covered it all with a thin layer of apoxie. I sanded it until smooth and sculpted in all the extra details such as the tuning pegs, the 20 frets, the bridge, and small pegs to hold the strap. Everything was then painted and glazed. The strap is made from a ribbon and pieces of faux leather glued together with the ribbon sandwiched between them.

The hat was a struggle. I could not find a single hat that was close to the one Spine wears so I tried a few times to make one by hand. In the end they ended up way to heavy/bulky when I tried to make molded ones and I couldn't get them to sit on his head quite right. (I have absolutely no clue how to make a fabric one.) A few months ago I randomly found a hat while shopping that was actually pretty close to Spine's. So I will be using this for now until I can either edit it or make a different one.

For this project the pants, shirt, and vest were all made from scratch. I have no prior experience with doll customizations at all and while I know how to sew, I have only ever sewn plush animals. I have never made clothes or my own patterns. To make my patterns I used the plastic wrap and tape method. This is when you wrap the body with plastic wrap, cover this with tape, and then mark out the pattern on the tape. You can then cut out the pattern and use it to measure out your fabric. This was very tedious since the dolls are so small. The small size made it very difficult to get clean seams and to have the pattern actually line up properly once fitted to the doll. In the images above you'll see that I had to make most of the patterns twice to get it the way I wanted. Another challenge was trying to get the clothes to lay properly around the fins without leaving giant holes in the fabric and without the fins tearing up the fabric around them. I ended up gluing an interface on the insides of the shirt and vest to help keep the fabric sturdy and then glued along the edges of the gaps to keep them from fraying. I ended up finding the shoes I needed on ebay.

Here are more closeup photos of the finished guitar. I also put it next to the guitar I used for its design just to show the size difference.

Here are more pictures of the doll without the guitar and hat.

Also if anyone was curious this is the original doll used for this custom.

#steam powered giraffe #spg #the spine spg #the spine steam powered giraffe #barbie custom #ken custom #doll custom #my art

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goose-on-the-loose · 2 months ago

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The Darkest Hour - Styracosaurs in a Wildfire Paleoart Process Breakdown

It’s been a long time since I’ve shared my art on this account (at some point years ago I just forgot to), but I thought that this might be a great opportunity to start posting my art again! This is my first attempt at paleoart, and I think it’s worthy of sharing. It’s for my showcase at my art school, so there were time restraints that stopped me from adding elements that I would’ve liked, but ultimately I’m quite satisfied with it.

For any budding paleoartist (or anybody really) who’d like to see my process, I put it all below the read more! @a-dinosaur-a-day (hope you don’t mind me @/ing you, i originally meant for this post to be an ask but it got too long haha)

I started off knowing that I wanted to depict some kind of ornithischian for a number of reasons. Two of the biggest reasons were that 1) I simply like them more than theropods and sauropods and 2) My senior showcase is all about showing animals in ways that the viewer hasn’t seen them before, and most people don��t really think about ornithischians except for if they’re being preyed on by a theropod.

I then narrowed my choices further by looking at different formations and what species they have. I looked up what formations parasaurolophus was in (since it’s one of my fav dinosaurs and I was thinking of making it my subject) and I saw the dinosaur park formation. Looking at the different species found there and the type of environment they lived in, I knew this formation was going to be my choice.

I couldn’t narrow it down to one species yet, so I decided to think of some scenarios ornithischians might find themselves in first. I thought, “Oooh, what about some dinosaurs escaping from a wildfire?”, since the storyline could easily be conveyed, the lighting would be interesting, and I could get creative with the composition (flames and burning debris can create arcs to guide the viewer’s eye).

I did some very quick simple thumbnails and sketches to get the feeling and flow of the lines. I saw some paleoart by Marzio Mereggia and I remembered one of his parasaurolophus pieces that I really liked. I also looked at the composition of the fire scene from Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron for inspiration. (the tiger doodle had nothing to do with it, i just wanted to draw a tiger) The shapes and silhouettes of these species weren’t really clicking for me, so I looked back on the list and saw styracosaurus. I looked at some paleoart and realized that the silhouette and shapes of their frill and horns could really draw the viewer’s attention.

So, I drew the top thumbnails and showed them to my teacher. He liked all of them, but especially liked the middle one, so I drew a larger version of it, making sure to elevate the best parts and communicate the story. I like to use highlighters when thumb-nailing because it helps me break down the background, middleground, and foreground while also giving attention to the focal points. I was satisfied with this layout, so I drew an even larger version of it that would be the same size as the piece of wood I would be painting on.

I wanted to add more dimension so I changed the placement a bit. I don’t have much to say on this one, except for the final project has less background detail because each piece in our showcase has to be finished within a certain amount of time, this is also why the adult styracosaurus doesn’t have scale detail. I would’ve liked to add it, but I have to be realistic with my time.

I then drew the sketch on the piece of wood, and then my teacher cut the excess wood off.

Painted the background and also changed the shape of the face horn to be more accurate. I believe that styracosaurus’ horns changed with age and each individual’s grew in their own slightly different way. I do regret not pushing the dark ground colors further back.

Started trying to figure out the colors in class here.

Did this all the next day, took about 6-7 hours. 3 during class and the rest in my dorm. I changed/added to the rest of the face colors later, but the beak stays the same. I still really like the way I painted the beak.

This was after 3 more hours of class time. I changed the face horn color and made the frill horns match it. I also started focusing more on highlights and shadows. This is the last photo I took during the process.

With the final version, you can see that I warmed up the highlights to match the fire and I dulled them out too (adding yellow to purple desaturates it). I also went over the background again, making the colors more vivid and adding a glow to the fire. Ngl I do regret not adding that glow to the fire on the trees, but oh well. Live and learn ig.

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norhmitch8 · 1 year ago

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Woy Doodles! It's been so long since I've drawn these lil guys, 2014 I think, so ive been slowly getting the hang of drawing them as accurate to the show then stylizing it.

So here we have commander peepers and skeleton dance doodles, peepers is a icon fr

Almost forgot, but uh the outfit I put on wander ( the black dress and wig) was from this tiktok artist who drew him like that, I wanted to as well

#woy #wander over yonder #fanart #wander fanart #commander peepers #lord hater #skeleton dance #thats it tbh #id tag Sylvia but she is in one picture dude

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frozenjokes · 9 months ago

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Etho Really Should Explain Literally Anything To Mumbo, But It’s A Long Story And He Can’t Be Bothered

Mermaids weren’t very loud creatures, not at all. They could be when they wanted; the purpose of song was to be heard after all, but song was a deliberate action, to hunt, to heal, to love.

A mermaid in distress was not loud, per se. Not like humans; yelling, whining, flailing about, no, nothing purposeful, but they did stand out with too-frequent click, click, clicks of a soul that was very lost, that didn’t feel grounded in their environment.

And it wasn’t always obvious, not in the deep. Everyone was clicking all of the time in the deep, the soft rhythm of home. To navigate, to gauge how another was feeling, to keep from running into rocks or homes or gardens or each other- well, they still ran into each other quite a bit, but the point stands.

In places with less mermaids however, it was very obvious when someone was struggling, and this close to the surface, Mumbo could hear telltale mermaid clicks from a mile away. Nine times out of ten, if a mermaid was near the surface Mumbo would be surprised if they weren’t lost, so he kicked away from the gentle current he was riding and made toward the noise.

The clicking heightened as Mumbo neared, then slowed, recognition of another presence. Mumbo was close enough to sense the rapid movement of fins with his own clicks; up and down, up and down, but with unadjusted eyes from spending so long in the deep, he still couldn’t quite see them. Regardless, it was clear that this mermaid was apprehensive about his approach, so he slowed his pace, hoping the stranger would understand he was friendly.

‘Do you need help?’ Mumbo whistled once in earshot, keeping a healthy distance. There was something unnerving about this mermaid that kept him on edge, kept his fins twitching. He just couldn’t- see them. Now, again, he couldn’t see much of anything, but he could understand shapes, especially ones as big as him. And Mumbo knew where the stranger should be; they weren’t exactly moving much and clicking was an accurate measurement of space, but there was no dark blob where he expected one to be. Mumbo squinted, but it was no use.

‘Need to go to the surface. Urgent. Got swept away by the storm,’ the mermaid answered after an uncomfortable pause, and that was odd too. Why were they speaking so stilted? And why did they wait so long to answer? But then Mumbo processed the words, and excitement swallowed his apprehension. The surface? Did this mermaid like to visit the surface as well?

‘That’s where I’m going! I’ll take you.’ Mumbo couldn’t help the soft trill that rose behind his words, diving a little closer as curiosity got the better of him. The stranger’s fins flared briefly, surprise, and Mumbo gave a few amused clicks in return.

‘Really?’ they said, the lilt of the word higher than it should’ve been; a quite endearing expression of excitement, or maybe surprise? Entirely odd- mermaids didn’t usually express themselves in that way. Mumbo wondered where this one was from. ‘Can you take me-’ the mermaid stopped suddenly, frustration twitching through their fins before they flicked their tail, a silent ‘nevermind.’

‘I know a safe place,’ Mumbo tried, hoping that would sate them. Did this mermaid travel the surface or something? Did they name different places they’d explored? Oh, Mumbo longed to know more. ‘Call me Mumbo?’

‘Anywhere there’s land is fine. Call me Ghost’

Ghost! Goodness! ‘Do they call you that because you’re invisible?’ The words were out of his mouth before Mumbo could help himself, but Ghost didn’t seem to mind, an amused chirp bubbling forward.

‘You’ve been deep for a while?’

Mumbo drew into himself in a gentle show of embarrassment. ‘Yes. I like to visit the surface often, but couldn’t for some time. Bad injury. This is my first time back since then.’

Ghost closed the rest of the distance between them, and Mumbo started to see a shape through the water, though not concretely. ‘I’m light colored, different. I won’t stand out where there’s so much sun, not like you do.’ And there was that higher lilt again, almost distorting Ghost’s words to the point of changing their meaning. Why were they doing that? Mumbo could tell their amusement from their body language; was this like- double amused? Maybe it wasn’t amusement at all- Mumbo probably shouldn’t be applying human habits to mermaids, but that was just it. It sounded so human. Had Ghost spent a lot of time around them?

Mumbo didn’t get the chance to ask. Ghost stilled for a moment, a distinctly unnatural, tense movement, before a horrible wheezing sound left their throat, gills flaring so wide Mumbo could sense the spasming through his own distressed clicks, clicking which grew in rapid, panicked frequency. What- What was happening? Ghost made a horrible choking sound, bubbles trailing through their teeth, and Mumbo pressed a frightened hand to their chest, desperate to figure out what was wrong with their gills.

Ghost’s tail whipped against Mumbo’s own in a bruising slam, propelling the other out of reach, but Mumbo couldn’t help but follow closely, unable to understand and longing to help- but how could he? It- it sounded like Ghost was drowning.

And then it stopped. As suddenly as they’d stopped breathing, Ghost started again like nothing was wrong. Like they were just fine.

‘Sorry about that,’ Ghost clicked, fins frighteningly calm for what must have been a terrifying experience. Mumbo’s own fins were flat against his back, wary and afraid, but Ghost didn’t seem the least bit bothered, if anything, just looking a little annoyed. ‘It’s urgent I get to the surface.’

They didn’t elaborate further, and Mumbo couldn’t do much else but stare, a cross between utterly perplexed and extraordinarily frightened. He wanted to ask further, but maybe this was a personal issue-? It would be rude to probe about this mermaid’s health, surely. Maybe it had something to do with their light scales? What if light scaled mermaids needed sunlight to survive? Whatever the case, Mumbo took ‘urgent’ seriously this time, kicking off on a swift pace toward the surface, and was relieved to hear Ghost following close behind.

To Mumbo’s great distress, Ghost had another ‘drowning attack’ around thirty minutes later before they reached the outlet into the river, but they didn’t seem too bothered, so Mumbo tried (and failed) not to worry as well, simply hoping that once they made it to the lake cove, everything would be fine. Honestly, it was a little unnerving how relaxed Ghost was acting for a mer who sounded like they were dying a minute ago (and potentially on a regular basis?), but maybe Mumbo was misreading them. After all, they did have a couple odd mannerisms, and with the sun so bright this close to open air, Mumbo was just as blind as he was in the deep.

He’d forgotten how much the sun hurt when he was away for so long; a real shame, since he had really been looking forward to seeing Ghost. In all fairness, Mumbo hadn’t actually seen many mermaids at all, but for the most part their scales were dark and inky, with traces of color along their fins from a time when mermaids lived in places the light could reach. The idea of a pale colored mermaid was fascinating, and Mumbo was quite keen on seeing them with adjusted eyes.

As the two of them swam down the channel, Mumbo’s thoughts drifted to his humans, a gentle ache in his chest as he wondered if he would ever see them again. He was gone for so long, what if they didn’t think he was coming back? Did they still think about him? Oh, he hoped they were doing well. Grian hadn’t been in a good state.. Mumbo only hoped he’d made the right choice by leaving.

He stopped short as he remembered Ghost; even though Mumbo would be shocked to see his humans at the cove, he should probably give them a heads up regardless.

‘A warning,’ he whistled, and continued when Ghost flicked their fins as an indication they heard, ‘Humans visit my place sometimes. It has been a long time since I’ve been up, and they come to see me, so I doubt they’ll be around, but I thought you should know. They are friendly, in any case. Nothing to worry about.’

Ghost clicked to themself, an indication of quiet thought, though Mumbo was relieved that they didn’t seem too alarmed. ‘Should be out of there before that becomes a problem,’ they mused, ‘But you should be careful. Humans are greedy things. Take advantage of nice mers like you.’

‘No, no, not these. They want to learn about me. I want to learn about them. They’re sweet, they took care of me when my tail was broken. Well. They tried. I’ve brought them back a few things from the deep to show them if they ever return.’

Ghost hummed to themself in quiet thought before whistling, ‘Sentimental,’ and Mumbo wasn’t quite sure if they were referring to him or the humans. Probably true either way.

‘They’re nothing to worry about.’

‘Either way, I’ll be gone.’ Ghost gave a dismissive flick of their fins, and Mumbo pushed away disappointment. He figured if Ghost explored the surface, they’d surely met or at least seen a handful of humans, but they didn’t seem to care at all. Maybe humans were just another animal to Ghost, nothing to write home about. Mumbo couldn’t imagine being so disinterested. Humans made tools- they were engineers! Mumbo couldn’t think of a species more fascinating if he tried.

Regardless, he took them through the inlet that led to the lake, hoping if it was sun that Ghost needed, they would get plenty of it here. It wasn’t easy to keep track of Ghost’s breathing, not when Mumbo couldn’t see, but he did his best to listen, even if Ghost didn’t seem to want any assistance. Mumbo couldn’t help himself. How could anyone? At the very least, if Ghost did start drowning(?) again, they were in shallow enough water that they could surface for air.

Relief swamped Mumbo when they finally broke through to the lake, especially when behind him, it seemed like Ghost was beginning to breathe a bit more shallowly. Mumbo had planned on scouting ahead for his humans, just in case, but Ghost didn’t give him the chance, tearing ahead toward the beach in what Mumbo hoped was excitement.

It was a beautiful day, the water warm in Mumbo’s pleasant little alcove, and just being here after so long lifted his mood, a soft, sighing trill leaving his throat as his tail brushed the sandy shallows. Ghost had already fixed themself at the shore, head almost completely out of the water as they sprawled, fins waving contentedly. Maybe it really was sunlight they needed; Mumbo would be hard pressed to remember a mermaid in his past that looked more relaxed. And they seemed to be breathing well too, perfect.

‘This is a good place, very good,’ Ghost said, though there was something breathy about the whistle, like it wasn’t quite coming out right, ‘I can see where your humans come in and out. That will make things easier for me.’

‘The brush is still pretty flattened, isn’t it,’ Mumbo spoke with a wistful glance toward the path emerging from the woods, though it was far more overgrown than before. Mumbo’s stomach churned as he stared, anxiety hiking up in his chest. It really did look like it had been a while since anyone came through. He blinked, fins flicking as he processed the rest of what Ghost had said. ‘How do you mean?’

Ghost gave a non-committal flick of their tail, the end splashing lazily as it landed back in the water, ‘Don’t worry about it. Long story. Impatient, stupid friend.’ Ghost’s fins twitched irritably at the last sentiment, and kept twitching long after, their mood seeming to sour.

Mumbo would have loved to hear; he had plenty of time after all, but Ghost didn’t look like they wanted to share, so he left well enough alone, leaving them in the shallows to check on his roots and vines. Oh, everything had grown so much! Instantly he was preoccupied, meticulously combing through every plant, pulling up the longest, sturdiest strands, and placing them lengthwise on the shore. Mumbo didn’t know what he was going to do with this yet, but he was sure he could make some really sturdy rope- oh, he was so excited! Ghost seemed to be amused by his antics, keeping a curious eye on Mumbo’s activity. They didn’t ask any questions, a shame since Mumbo would have loved to chat, but oh well, not all mermaids were talkative. He appreciated the company regardless.

Mumbo worked in silence for a good while, humming to himself as he got into a groove. Through squinted eyes, he found a few wildflowers near the shore, and wondered if his humans would like them or if Ghost valued pretty things like he did. Mumbo pulled himself up the short ledge to get a better look, embarking on a grand distraction that took him some ways from the water’s edge in search of different flowers. Mumbo loved color, and he loved finding new colors. Things could get so dull in the water, even outside of the deep, but everything on the surface was so vibrant!

The first few times he had ventured out of the deep, he’d spent hours and hours just looking at himself, the reds and pinks shimmering through his fins so bright and beautiful, especially above the water. In low light, his fins were as black as the rest of his scales, so seeing the sun hit them for the first time was a delightful surprise. If only he didn’t have to wait so long to see the world properly. Truly, the best thing about spending all those weeks on the surface, even injured, was taking in the environment, the color, the everything. There was truly nothing like it in the deep.

Speaking of not being able to see, after accidentally crushing a few flowers, Mumbo forced himself to retreat back to the water. Blind mermaids didn’t get nice things, not after killing a bunch of them.

But after the rippling sound of Mumbo’s re-entrance into the lake subsided, ragged, strained breathing replaced the noise, filling the quiet with Ghost’s sick struggling. Mumbo was at their side in an instant, his fear-raised fins contrasting Ghost’s own, flat against their body and quivering gently. Mumbo’s eyes had adjusted enough to see their pale form, truly devoid of almost all color apart from splotches of salmon pink that painted their fins and skin. Mumbo squinted, alarm lighting his veins when he couldn’t find Ghost’s gills.

‘Space, please. I’m fine,’ they said, extraordinarily unconvincingly, ‘Impatient, stupid friend on their way. Very stupid. Very impatient. Will be here soon. You might want to leave until they’re gone.’ Their whistles and clicks were quiet and weak, similar to the brief moment from before, but much worse, like Ghost was struggling to speak at all.

‘You’re dying. I’m not leaving.’

‘I’m not dying.’

‘You’re dying!’

‘This is normal.’

‘It most certainly is not!’

Ghost hissed pointedly, fins slapping the water with how hard Ghost was flicking them. Incredibly rude, honestly, but given the circumstances, Mumbo was willing to forget it. He just wished this mer wasn’t so damn stubborn.

‘Stupid friend is poor company. Go away.’ Ghost bared their teeth briefly, and Mumbo’s tail tip lashed, splashing in the shallow water. He backed up, giving the requested space, but did not leave. Ghost huffed, but did not try to send him away again.

Mumbo shifted his attention to helping instead, on singing some sort of comfort (a gesture which seemed to annoy Ghost; Mumbo really couldn’t win with this mer, could he), and doing whatever he could that wouldn’t end with him being hissed at. Which is to say, not much. Given his focus, he didn’t notice the distant disturbance from the woods, not until it grew in volume, aggressive and clumsy and steadily getting closer. There was something uncoordinated about the noise as well, snagging and stumbling that set Mumbo’s fins on end, like the thing it belonged to was unfamiliar with the forest, or simply didn’t care. Well- thing. It was quite obviously a human. Nothing else was so loud, so careless.

Mumbo shrank back when the human burst through the clearing, but it didn’t even notice the two mermaids, instead hunching over its knees with heaving breaths, so ragged they almost sounded like growls. Mumbo was entirely tense from fingers to tail tip, fins on end and quivering, while Ghost looked little more than bored, or maybe just pained; it was difficult to tell with fins so lax. This couldn’t be the friend they were talking about, could it? Ghost hadn’t said a word when Mumbo talked of his own human friends; if anything, Ghost had sounded entirely disinterested. Maybe they were too sick to care about a threat in the clearing? Whatever the case, Mumbo would take care of it.

“Got your bloody clothes, Etho, christ, you didn’t make it easy to find you. Couldn’t have gone anywhere else huh?” The human tossed the bag off its back and into the sand, “This is a nice location though, for the future,” it mumbled, “Close to the river. Lots of options.”

It didn’t even look up as it shed some of its clothes, stumbling toward the water with a distinctly unsettling gait, legs shaking violently- was it sick? Either way, Mumbo didn’t want it anywhere near him. Mumbo spat a long, rattling hiss, satisfied as the human fell back into the sand, eyes wide enough for Mumbo to see in his half-blind state. It was a similar size as Grian, smaller without most of its clothes, with long, almost matted looking hair. Beside him, Ghost made an odd noise, almost reminiscent of a human laugh. Clearly they were getting sicker by the moment, no, no, Mumbo wouldn’t let this human anywhere near them, not when they couldn’t defend themself.

“Etho!” the human squeaked, shuffling back on uncoordinated limbs, “Who is this? Tell ‘im off! Tell ‘im off!” Something like slits across its neck and chest flared, reminiscent of gills. Odd jewelry, maybe? Did human paint move across their bodies? Well, regardless, Mumbo did not appreciate being yelled at, so he snaked closer to the water’s edge, rearing up with another defensive hiss.

‘Sorry, no speak- ah- human?’ Ghost whistled, rolling over somewhat pathetically, and the human screeched, kicking up sand in Mumbo’s direction, which, honestly, not a great choice.

“Not funny! Not funny!”

“Maybe not,” Ghost spoke in human, and Mumbo nearly jumped out of his skin, reeling on them with wide eyes, “But I do wish someone would bite you.” They paused, turning back to Mumbo, ‘Don’t bite it, please.’

‘IT?!’ The human whistled, outraged, but it didn’t whistle like a human, instead sounding just like a mermaid, clicks and all, though similarly to Ghost, it expressed its emotions in speech, which- maybe that made sense, given it had no fins to emote with. Still, the surprise was enough to send Mumbo jumping back a few paces, whirling from Ghost to the human and back again in wild confusion.

Ghost rolled their eyes, a frighteningly human mannerism, before giving a small wave of their tail, ‘Probably should’ve given you a better warning. Didn’t know how to explain, and they started the switch sooner than I thought. Too soon, clearly, they’re a damn mess. Should’ve been in the water ages ago. By the time you left the woods, it was a bit late, and obviously, I’m not well.’ Where the human’s whistle was strong and clear, Ghost’s seemed breathy and strained, like it was getting harder and harder to force the noise from their throat. And- wait a minute, their eyes weren’t right either. Something changed. Ghost spoke again before Mumbo could continue that thought, ‘Let them into the water, please. It will help both of us.’

“Stop talking so fast,” the human snapped irritably, “I can’t understand you.”

“I’m not talking to you,” Ghost bit back in human once more, but they didn’t look nearly as unhappy as they were before, fins only twitching absently. “Come on. Get in the water, they’ll let you now.”

The human looked skeptical, but even seated in the sand it was still shaking, and while Mumbo didn’t particularly want it anywhere close, Ghost had sounded decisive..? Mumbo carefully pulled away, keeping toward Ghost and hoping the human would respect his space. It seemed to understand, getting to its feet on legs that barely held its weight, then stumbling to the water line and falling in. Ghost made that odd half-laugh sound again, and seemed to relax a little, releasing a long breath.

The human rolled over in the water, looking similarly relieved. “Did you tell your new friend anything, or are they completely in the dark?”

Ghost shrugged, noncommittal, “Not really. Never going to see them again, so I didn’t see a point.”

“That’s mean,” the human snickered, its mood seeming to switch entirely. “So what, you’re going gonna blow their mind and leave them to think about it for the rest of their life, completely clueless? Do you think years from now they’ll doubt it even happened? Think they dreamed it? No one will believe them.” The human suddenly cackled, a bit of a crazed noise that made Mumbo shrink away. It looked directly at him and sneered, “No one will believe you,” then stopped short, turning back to Ghost, “Etho! Tell them no one will believe them. Do it for me.”

“I’m not doing that.”

“Do it!”

“No.”

“Do it!”

“No.”

“Do it!”

Ghost didn't answer, rolling over to face away from both Mumbo and the human, something like mild amusement waving through their fins which- wait, since when had their fins gotten so small? But his thoughts didn’t linger there for long, most of his brain still straining to remember the human words he had learned. He was sure the two of them were talking about him, they must be, but they also must be using a different pronoun- when Ghost learned human, did they make a separate pronoun in the human language for mermaids? Why? While he had about a thousand questions, it seemed difficult for Ghost to speak at this point, so for now he wanted to focus on language, or at least on trying to understand anything the two of them were saying.

‘What do you call me? My humans call me-‘ Mumbo paused, steeling himself. It had been a while since he’d spoken like this. “He.”

Ghost was silent for a moment, giving Mumbo a curious look over their shoulder before laying their head back in the sand, still weak. ‘We call you,’ Ghost stopped, switching to human, “They. Them. He-“ ‘-implies a concept that does not exist for us. You will not understand. Has to do with human reproduction. Kind of. It is unnecessarily complicated. Do yourself a favor and don’t worry about it.’

‘I like human things. You can call me-‘ “-He.”

For some reason, the human found this incredibly funny, cackling to itself from the other side of the beach, but Ghost didn’t seem to care, only waving their tail (was it shorter?) in a lazy gesture. “You heard him.”

“I like this mermaid. You think I could lure him back home? Oh, I’d love to have two. Keep him as a little guard dog, have him eat anyone that steps foot on my island. Oh- or- Well, I don’t think I could split my soul again, but it would be nice to have options. Maybe he’d complain less. Or maybe he wouldn’t swim all the way out to sea on days we’re meant to switch back, yeah?”

Ghost bristled, looking angry for the first time since the human arrived, and Mumbo’s fins rose in turn. “No. You’re stuck with me. And that was your fault anyway, you seem to forget that when you blackout drunk, I also blackout. I didn’t know where the hell I was when I woke up. He brought me here. Please, I’d hate to subject anyone else to dealing with you like I have to.” Mumbo struggled to read their tone, unable to parse the bitterness in the beginning from the last sentiment that almost sounded like a joke, too exaggerated. It was difficult to tell if Ghost was genuinely angry or not.

But the human ignored them, turning instead to address Mumbo, ‘Do you come here often?’

Faster than Mumbo could process the question, Ghost snatched at Mumbo’s arm, and while Mumbo yanked away with a hiss, Ghost was not deterred, grabbing again despite their weakness and not flinching when Mumbo snapped forward in a warning feint. Instead, they pushed Mumbo’s hand to their chest at a spot where the skin was split by a massive scar. Surprise stopped Mumbo in his tracks- he hadn’t seen any scars across Ghost’s body, the colors too difficult to differentiate in his state of poor eyesight, but now that he knew it was there, he could just make out the difference. The scar extended above and below where his hand sat on their chest, all the way past Ghost’s eye and down to the midsection of their tail. It wasn’t thin either, jutting particularly badly across their stomach- how had Ghost even survived an injury that severe?

Ghost looked directly at him when they spoke, unwavering, ‘It did that. Dangerous human. Stay away.’

“I did not!” the human shrieked, then seemed to realize a bit too late it had spoken in the wrong language, ‘I healed it! I saved them!-‘ “-Come on, Etho! What’re you doing that for!? And here I thought you liked to have a little fun sometimes. You’re not still mad, surely not, you like the life you’ve carved out for yourself on land. Is a little inconvenience still worse than being dead to you?”

“This isn’t about me.”

“Is it not? Would you really put a price tag on your life, Etho? From where I’m standing, our deal was perfectly fair.”

Ghost grunted. “I didn’t get a choice.”

“You agreed! You shook my hand!”

“Why are you dredging this back up,” Ghost frowned, something like a growl leaving their throat, “I don’t care how many times you repeat yourself, you will never get me to say that choosing between my life and your ‘deal’ was fair. I’m past it. It’s time for you to let it go.”

The human quieted, something conflicted crossing its face before it looked away, grabbing fistfuls of sand in the water. For the first time since it arrived at the beach, it spoke without an edge. “But I want you to. I want you to be okay with it.”

Ghost was silent for a long moment, but there was nothing bitter behind their next words; honestly, there wasn’t any emotion at all. “I know.”

Mumbo didn’t know what to do. In all honesty, the human was looking very biteable right now, but Ghost had asked him not to, and maybe whatever they were arguing about was a ‘them’ issue anyway. If Ghost wanted to, they could probably bite the human themself, no need for Mumbo’s input.

But he didn’t get to think about it much longer, not before both the human and Ghost fell back almost limply, shallow, harsh breaths leaving Ghost’s lips, while the human groaned.

And then something split, Ghost’s tail, cracking apart with an awful squelching pull, their scales melting and dissolving like bone against magma. Mumbo reared back, blind fear lifting most of his body from the water before flying in the other direction. He choked on segmented hiss, and the human cackled, any hints of softness to its voice dead, replaced by vindictive edges. Had it done that to Ghost- did Ghost know? What- Was Ghost even a mermaid at all? Was this some sort of trick?

Terror sent Mumbo rocketing into deeper water, distressed by how little space he had to retreat. The lake wasn’t small, but it wasn’t endless either, not like the ocean; Mumbo couldn’t just swim away forever. He needed to hide. There was a nook a tad deeper into the lake where Mumbo typically stored his things, so he pushed himself down, holing up until he was too far to hear anything from the cove at all. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong with both of them. Mumbo struggled to catch his breath, unable to shake the image from his mind. He had never wanted two beings so gone from his place at the beach- Mumbo had always imagined sharing it with others, making a real home out of his little cove, but suddenly, nothing was more terrifying than a stranger. Betrayal burned through his blood just as hot as terror. If that human was so dangerous, why did Ghost call it a friend in the first place? Why did they bring it to his safe space- actually, how did the human find them at all?

Mumbo wasn’t sure how long he spent tucked away at the bottom of the lake. He was too big to completely fit in the rocky nook, but the mud at the bottom of the lake blended well with his scales, so he sat mostly obscured and stared up at the surface, head and parts of his tail poking out among the mud. Just.. waiting for something to happen. For Ghost, whatever they were, to leave, and for their human friend(?) to take its things and go as well, and to never see them again. Not in his cove, no. Not where he was supposed to be safe.

There was no movement for so long, Mumbo wondered if he’d missed Ghost leaving. If he had failed to spot them, though, it seemed unlikely with the improvements in his eyesight since he and Ghost had first met.

More likely, Ghost had never left the cove. Mumbo couldn’t see how they wouldn’t be dead, not with splitting tails and melting scales. They were so sick, the human too- Had they both died? It turned Mumbo’s stomach to think there were two corpses on his beach, rotting in the sun. What would he do with them? He certainly wouldn’t want his humans to find them. (But maybe that was the best case scenario. They couldn’t threaten his space if they were dead.)

And then there was movement, a large disturbance in the water followed by an even larger mermaid, the dark shape that was distinctly not Ghost.

They moved slowly, languid through the water, scanning the area with narrowed eyes, clicking soft and curious as they moved. Mumbo forced himself to be completely still, completely quiet. They were looking for him, he was sure of it, dark eyes raking malevolently across the lake floor. He didn’t know what it was about this mermaid that was so wrong, that made him so afraid, so sure they meant him harm, but Mumbo wasn’t about to question his gut feeling, not when he was so petrified.

To his great relief, the mermaid did not linger for very long, kicking off in the direction of the river after only a few more minutes of lazy drifting.

But even after Not-Ghost was long gone, Mumbo did not surface. He did not want to know what was on his shores. He did not want to see any more creatures of the sun.

…

Scar stood, hunched over his desk with his mouth agape, unable to shut it, but equally unable to say any words at all. That was Etho. His friend Etho. On his trail cameras. Walking away after growing legs.

“What the fuck.” Grian said, slotted below him in Scar’s desk chair, eyes equally wide. Yeah. That about summed it up.

#hermitcraft #hermitfic #mumbo jumbo #ethoslab #joel smallishbeans #smallishbeans #grian #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #hermitcraft fic #mumbomaid au

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