#skipps hair was such a struggle-

[williamlandon]

RAMSHACKLE!!

The pilot is out and I totally recommend watching it! <3

and Stone is my favorite by far C:

[estelle-skully]

My first Ramshackle fanart 😟

I drew Skipp bc he’s a cutie patootie

no but mostly because my sister was struggling to draw him, saying she was having trouble with getting his hair right, so I decided to give it a shot and… here we are

im so fucking proud of this you have no idea

It was inspired by this frame in the pilot

@zeddyzi 👉👈

[paperhatcollection]

What if Dementia got hurt on a mission and Black Hat had to save her?

“You’ve got a mission.” Black Hat tossed the file unceremoniously in the vague direction of Demencia, not even taking his eyes off the paperwork in front of him. The thick folder landed squarely on the other side of his desk, slightly to the left of the girl. Had it been heavier, it would have been worth the effort to throw at her. “Don’t screw it up.” 

Demencia smiled brightly at the demon in front of her, snatching up the file and holding it close to her chest, giggling like a demented schoolgirl. “I love you too, Blackie~” Demencia said moments before Black Hat snapped the pencil he was holding in two. Seemingly unbothered by Black Hat’s subtle show of anger, she spun on a heel and skipping from the room, holding her mission files close to her heart like a love letter. 

One she really did need to open, unless she wanted to run around trying to guess who she was supposed to take down again. Heh. Taking down General Obvious had been quite the adventure. That memory aside, Demencia flipped open her folder, her tongue sticking out as she scanned the pages for the useful bits and pieces among the paragraphs of useless backstory she didn’t care about. Commander Strongarm, a top-tier hero that had risen in popularity in recent years. He was a cookie cutter blondie in blue and yellow spandex and the upper body of a Doritos. Demencia couldn’t see the appeal. 

 She turned the picture of the hero back and forth, a piece cut of of a newspaper with Strongarm smiling at the camera while giving a thumbs up. She felt like she was missing something with this guy. Maybe it was how fake his smile looked- it didn’t reach his eyes, not quite. And his shoulders were too slumped, they should have been higher like he was struggling to contain his own joy, and he’d never have smiled with so much teeth if he wasn’t posing-

Demencia ran smack into Flug, and her thoughts scattered like the papers now fluttering to the floor like a bunch of large, flat white feathers. Flug was shoved back by the action while Demencia was left blinking at him in place, trying to catch her thoughts back up to reality. 

“Flug~!” Demencia chirped, leaping at the scientist and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “Just the man I was looking to see!”

“What do you want, Demencia?” Flug asked, rolling his eyes behind his goggles. Demencia wondered if he knew she could see his eyes through them. “I’m really busy, so I don’t have much time for-”

“I need to ask you for a favor.” Demencia reached a hand up, placing a finger over where on his bag his mouth should be. “And you’re the only one who can do it. See, I’ve got a mission from Black Hat~”

“And that involves me, how exactly?” Flug asked, slipping out from under her arm and turning away slightly, leaning down and picking up on of the papers off the floor.

“It’s far away.” Demencia explained, running her hands through her wild mess of green hair. “Off the island. I need a ride- and the best option would be by plane, don’t you think?”

Flug paused, turning towards Demencia slowly. “A flight?” 

Demencia smiled. Flug was so easy to manipulate. 

Of course this guy had to spend most of his time in the HA (Hero Association) headquarters in the middle of a crowded city, but Demencia was nothing if not good at finding all the perfect little cracks she could use to slip unnoticed from wall to wall until she found the right moment to strike. And when it turned out their weren’t any open windows she could crawl in through fifty floors above the ground, she smashed one open with her mace and crawled in anyways. 

An alarm started to blare the moment she stepped foot into the room, which she hoped would attract the right kinda of attention. Demencia could just imagine the look on Black Hat’s face when she brought him the cape of her newest target- his mouth pulled into a thin line and his eyes distant in that way they usually were when he was happy. Giggling to herself, she skipped down the hallway and knocked a couple of B list heroes out on her way to finding her newest target. 

Pausing, tilting her head, Demencia jumped on the nearest wall and scrambled up to the ceiling, darting forward as she followed the sound of a voice. She knew, despite not recalling having heard it anywhere before, that this was her target. The voice lead her down a hallway where Commander Strongarm was yelling into what looked like a circular walkietalkie, like something out of a kids show made to sell toys, trying to find out what the security team meant by an ‘intruder’. 

Looming down behind him, Demencia was careful to keep her feet planted above her as she raised her mace for one devastating spin, a smile stretching across her face as she stuck out the tip of her tongue in concentration. If only she hadn’t giggled, Strongarm never would have even thought to spin around, eyes going wide in shock at the villain about to bash his head in-

“Clemencia?” Strongarm asked, his voice barely a whisper. 

“What?” Demencia asked, freezing mid-swing and hesitating a moment too long that caused her to go crashing down to the cold floor underneath her. Hissing in pain and surprise, Demencia scrambled to grab her weapon and jump back to her feet even as the world spun around her, but she was too slow to stop the hero from slamming her against the wall, pinning her wrists to either side. 

“Kinky. But sorry, I’m taken~” Demencia said with a wink, moments before she lifted one leg and smashed it into the heroes chest, breaking his grip and sending him flying into the opposite wall. She might have even cracked something. Nice. Laughing now, she jumped forward and smashed her mace against the chuck of wall the heroes head had been moments before, only for him to have dodged totally uncool like. Frowning, Demencia swung her weapon around and attempted to get him as he tried to get around her, causing the hero to jump away. 

“Clem, it’s me.” Strongarm pleaded, worry dripping from his voice like a leaking faucet. “What happened- who did this to you? I- we can help you, I promise, just please, talk to me.” as he spoke, Strongarm attempt to disarm Demencia, who easily scrambled up a wall and away from him. It was almost like he was holding back. Huh. 

Smiling down at the hero, Demencia tsked and wagged her finger at him. “No can do mister. Black Hat wouldn’t be happy if I talked with a target instead of taking care of them.” she chirped, moments before leaping down at him and bringing her mace down for one huge blow while he registered the words she’d just told him. Instead, a blast caught her side, exploding and sending her flying across the room and smashing into a wall, collapsing to the floor like a rag doll.

“Clem! Zapmaster, stop!” the hero cried, besides Demencia’s side in a moment. Demencia struggled to move, already feeling the itch of her natural (given?) regeneration at work, knitting her side back together. Had she been human, a blast like that might have killed her- but she wasn’t human. 

Not anymore. 

“She’s trying to kill you!” Zapmaster yelled from somewhere further down the hall, and Demencia wished she could have turned her head and looked. It sounded like a kid- probably one of the newer heroes. He’d probably have been great to mess with, if she’d noticed him beforehand. Ah, well. As soon as whatever shock was passing through her system was done, she’d be up and at ‘um. 

She felt hands on her shoulders, and then she was being scooped up into a pair of familiar  arms and lifted into the air. She tried ti squirm, but her body was resisting her own inputs. Demencia mentally groaned in frustration, wanting to pout and cross her arms like a child. She barely even managed to open her eyes in time to see them fly through the building to what looked like a medical ward.

It looked more fun to wreck than Flug’s lab did. At least, what she could see of it. She tried to squirm again, but only managed to twitch the end of her fingers and toes, to her annoyance. She was so wrapped up in herself, she didn’t even see the Doctor approaching with a syringe until the world began to swirl around her. Cool. 

Demencia awoke with a pounding headache and a sore body. Nope. She didn’t want to be awake right now. She attempted to burrow deeper into her blankets and go back to sleep, only to realize her blankets were thinner than normal. In fact, she only seemed to have one of her fifty blankets present. 

Cracking open her eyes, Demencia was met with a white sheet she defiantly didn’t own, in a bed that definitely wasn’t hers. It reminded her of that time she’d been taken to the hospital, actually. Lifting her gaze off her bed to the room, Demencia found herself in a simple, small room without much more than a TV against one wall, a picture of a boat (it wasn’t even sinking) and a mini fridge in the corner. Next to one side of her bed was a monitor and bedside table with a tall vase and a single dying flower in it, and on her other side-

Oh. Strongarm was laying back in a chair, fast asleep. If he’d been put on guard duty for her, he was pretty bad at it. Trying to seize her chance, Demencia tried to jump out of bed only for her wrists to be yanked back by soft, leather cuffs she hadn’t noticed before, and the way the room spin when she tried to move to fast. Falling against the sheets, Demencia groaned as she tried to force her calm to calm the fuck down. If it wasn’t for whatever drugs were in her system, she’d have torn herself free and smashed Strongarm’s head in with the fridge by now. 

Unintelligible mumbling to her left told her that Strongarm was waking up. Demencia groaned and peaked her eyes open at him in time to see the hero stretch out and sit back up. It occurred to Demencia that he wasn’t wearing his mask anymore, and she could see his brown eyes for the first time. No wonder he kept them covered under that tiny mask. 

His gaze fell on her, and confusion than surprise flitted across his face. He leaned forward, placing his hand on one of hers and offering a reassuring smile. 

“It’s okay Clem, everything’s fine, I promise. You’re safe here.” the hero reassured, only to yelp back in surprise when Demencia snapped her head towards him and tried to take a bite out of his arm. The movement left her spinning, however, and she was forced to fall back to the bed with a groan. 

“Oh Clemencia, what did they do to you?” Strongarm muttered to himself, a frown tugging at his lips as he leaned forwards. Without thinking about it, Demencia reaches up and swiped her thumb across his nose, stretching her restraints as far as they would go. Strongarm blinked in surprise. “Clem?”

Demencia froze, bringing her hand back to herself and looking at in confusion. She hadn’t meant to- it had almost been like an old reflex. What was going on…

“Do you know who I am?” Strongarm asked after a moment, interrupting Demencia’s thoughts. 

“Duh. You’re Commander Strongarm. Everyone knows that.” Demencia answered, rolling her eyes. 

“No, I mean, who I really am.” Strongarm pleaded. 

“What do you-” Demencia froze, searching his face. Something was on the tip of her tongue, and she couldn’t quite place it. Something like a… a… “Alan?” Demencia asked, tilting her head and squinting at the hero. 

“You remember!?” Stronga- Alan asked, beaming. “That’s great, Clem!”

“Remember what?” Demencia asked. Alan’s face fell. “And why do you keep calling me that?”

“Clemencia?” Alan asked. “That’s your name.”

“Na huh.” Demencia pouted, crossing her arms. “It’s Demencia, get it right.” 

“But…” Alan paused, shaking his head. “We’ll get your memories back somehow, I promise. I was hoping talking to you would help, but…”

“Why, we long-lost rivals or something?” Demencia racked her head, but she couldn’t recall having fought this guy before. She’d probably have won. 

“No.” Alan reached out and took her hand a second time, despite knowing the risks. “You’re my fiancée.”

“Hurry up and find that blasted girl, Flug.” Black Hat growled, wine glass in hand. The red liquid that he was swirling around inside it might have been blood judging by the smell, but Flug couldn’t quite tell with his bag on. Either way, he didn’t ask. 

Black Hat leaned over Flug, his free hand squeezing the mortals shoulders in a constant reminder of his presence. Flug resisted the urge to squirm as he fiddled with the controller to his small, camera fly drone. It was self-piloting, for the most part, but pretending he was guiding it was giving his hands something to do while Black Hat made him nervous. 

It had been a week, and they’d heard no word from Demencia. Even worse, by the time Flug checked her tracker, he found out it had been broken. Right now, his little drone was buzzing through the HA HQ, searching for any trace of Demencia’s unique heat signature. 

The drone crawled along the ceiling into a medical ward, focusing on a small, sick girl sitting cross legged on a hospital bed in a hospital gown. Had it not been for her absurd hair color, Flug might not have recognized her. Black Hat’s hand squeezed his shoulder a little tighter for a moment before relaxing. Or at the very least, squeezed a little less tighter. 

Demencia seemed to be fiddling with something around her wrist- cuffs, Flug noticed. She couldn’t seem to get a good grip, and her fingers kept sliding off them as she cursed under her breath. Before she could get very far, a door opened and medical staff stepped in, causing Demencia to hiss at them. 

“As cheerful as always, I see.” a Doctor stated, stepping to the side as his assistant moved forward and grabbed Demencia, allowing the Doctor to pick up a syringe and approach her even as she thrashed in their arms. “Don’t worry- soon you’ll feel right as rain.”

The moment he pushed the drug into her neck, Demencia’s whole body relaxed, and she visibly sighed. The assistants let go of her, and one of them turned towards the Doctor. 

“How long are we gonna have to keep doing this, doc?” he asked. The man sounded… worried. 

“Just until we have everything we need for the surgery prepped” the Doctor explained, picking up a clipboard off the end of Demencia’s bed. “Then she wouldn’t even remember that old hatter anymore.”

Above him, Black Hat shattered the wine glass in his hand.

Demencia opened her eyes to discover she was once again being carried. But this time her eyes were met with red and black, and the arms wrapped around and under her where a lot thinner than Strongarms had been. Demencia curled closer to the cold of the others chest, hoping this wasn’t a dream. 

A smack to the top of her head was enough to convince her she was awake. She jerked, looking up at Black Hat’s face and then around them as they passed through walls splatted with blood and chunks of former heroes. Demencia giggled as she waved her feet back and forth in the air, rolling Black Hat’s tie through her hand. “Hello handsome~” she purred. 

“You had one job.” Black Hat growled above her. “And you screwed it up. Remind me why I don’t just toss you out again?”

“Because you love me.” Demencia answered with a smile stretched across her face. 

“And don’t you dare forget it.” he snapped, while stepping on the remains of Strongarms skull. 

[alwida10]

Spn 12x12 Coda

sooo... this is actually my first own contribiution to tumblr. Please don’t be to hard on me! *blushes*  I thought about adding a second chapter with the explicit part. If you guys like this part, I will try. So here we go: 

Dean, Sam and Cas were home. At last. Yet even though it seemed over, for now, the aftershock lingered.

Though seemingly recovered, Cas still had been in no proper condition to drive himself. At least according to Dean, who had insisted on him riding in the Impala shotgun. Mary had stayed behind taking care of Wally and his belongings. Sam had brought Cas’ pickup back to the base, and disappeared in his room shortly after. Dean also went to his, leaving Castiel alone in the library. Dean had not been wrong. The angel’s physical pain caused by Michael’s lance had vanished, clearly, but the other pain, the one even harder to bear, remained.

Back there, in the barn, he had been ready to die. He didn’t want to, for sure, but he had also been at peace. The was a certain liberation to it, since it allowed him to finally face the truth. “Fallen”, many of his brother called him. He himself however always dismissed it. For wasn’t he still utterly obedient to the oaths of heaven? Indeed, he was. But not in thoughts. The other angels were right, after all, for it was not heaven his last thoughts were directed at while succumbing to the rot, but a man. The one he fell for those eight years ago.

In the sea of the silent and dark library, the very last desk was a small island of light illuminated by the reading lamp. Elbows on the table, face buried in his palms Castiel sat between broken red shadows. His confession, a last warm touch of love to comfort himself, now turned into pain. Why didn’t he die? He was at the merge, breaking every oath he had ever taken, falling. And there was no way back now. Once admitted, he could no longer pretend those feelings wouldn’t exist. But the worst part of it was that now Dean knew it as well now. The shame made Cas’ face burn and his entrails tense. Each and every moment his affection for the hunter had endangered their friendship appeared in the angel’s mind: … “Personal space, Cas. We have talked about this” … “I will watch over you.” – “That’s not gonna happen!”, and many-many more. The confession must have been too much for Dean. Castiels close death might have prevented him from direct withdrawing, but too much closeness would sooner or later make Dean retreat. An unbearable thought! A soft but pained groan escaped Castiels lips, and drowned in the bottomless night.

Dean turned to the other side, pulling the blanket right up to his nose. Still no sleep. He growled. Two hours of tossing and rolling, but every time he was about to flake out, a picture of Cas appeared. The bleeding, his friend rotting away, the words of gratitude Dean didn’t deserve painfully forming on the broken lips. The memory was cringy beyond belief. There was however a remedy for this, he knew. Something to blur the memory and to relieve his fear. The fear of losing his angel, and of losing his head, unable to think or act reasonable... Yep, that was it. No way past it now. Annoyed, he pushed the blanket aside. Got up and took the ‘dead guys robe’ from a chair. Stumbled to the kitchen, his steps softly echoing from the dark and silent bunker walls. The Whiskey bottle was still waiting for him on the table, just where he had left it. Dean poured a glass and emptied it in one sip. A soft but pained groan coming from the library startled him when he was right about to pour a second. That sounded like Cas. Did the lance magic still work, all their efforts in vain? Was the rot back? The thoughts made him wince. “Cas, you O.K.?!”, he called, and rushed to the library, bottle and glass still in his hands.

The angel sat at the desk, all huddled and sunk. “Cas?”, Dean called out, again. The angel flinched, then look up confused, as if brought back from a place far away by the sound of his name. “Dean?” He didn’t look in pain, but surprised, with the eyes widened and mouth open, “What’s the matter?” Dean stopped and took a second look. No blood was to be seen, neither any black scars. The deeper lines around Castiels eyes made him look tired. He also appeared somewhat veiled by the dark, the shadows merging with his black suit, coat hanging over a chair.

“Everything ok? I thought I heard something.” “I am fine.” Cas looked down again. “Thank you.” Dean eyed Cas suspiciously for a moment longer, then let himself fall in the chair next to him, put the glass down and finally poured the second drink. Having the angel close also helped against his worries. “Oh man – you had me scared there!” he drank some, looking in the distance. “You know, you shouldn’t act so reckless all the time!”. Castiel looked up again briefly, but returned to staring at the desk the moment his and Dean’s eyes met.

Cas always tried to get the fight away from them. Like that time in the night club, when he risked his life by drawing Lucifers attacks to himself. He had done the same the other time, in the cage, when Dean was too worried about Sam to even notice. Today again, when he had thrown himself in front of Mary, nearly dying due to the demon’s lance. Deans hand tightened around the glass, as he had another drink. Cas remained silent. Dean slowly swirled the Whiskey in the glass. The dim light made the golden liquid seem reddish. When he gazed to Cas again, it felt like the other one had just turned his eyes away. The drink was slowly starting to work and made Deans thoughts slow down. “What you said there, Cas…” Dean started, not knowing how to finish the sentence. Again Cas’ eyes met his, but this time his face looked fearful. His lips moved, but no words came, so Dean proceeded, “… I am happy that you see us as your family, too.” Cas sunk somewhat deeper in his chair and exhaled, making a soft hiss. “Yes, it is good to have family. Nevertheless, I should hurry to find Kelly Kline.” He rose and turned to the war-room. The sudden outburst pierced through Deans comfortable bubble of Whiskey and togetherness. “Woa, woa, Cas! Just wait a minute! Now?” He couldn’t resist to grin a little. “And by the way – you built your board in the kitchen, which is quite the opposite direction.” “Thanks Dean. If I ever need to find the exit, you will be the one I ask for it.” He took the coat and put it on. “I don’t think sitting here will help much. It’s better to take a look around, were I lost her track.”

A cold clenched Deans stomach. “Cas, no! We are just back.” Leaving his drink on the desk, he rushed after the angel, put a hand on his shoulder and pulled a little. Cas reluctantly turned around. This time the pain in his eyes was obvious. Dean wished he could ask what the problem was. He wished it would be something easy, and trivial. He wished he wouldn’t already suspect it. Searching for words he just stood there, the hand on Cas’ shoulder. Could Cas’ pain be caused by what he thought? He swallowed, but when he finally spoke it still ached in his throat. “Listen, Cas. What you… what you said there before…” annoyed by his own helplessness, Dean paused, shut his eyes, trying to verbalize.

In the barn, when Cas said these words some of them just sounded deeper, more meaningful then others. For a moment, he had thought Cas might feel something more for him then for the other both. For a moment Dean had felt loved and desired but the memory what his father would have said about these things came just a second afterwards. Suddenly the idea itself had felt ridiculous.

He took a deep breath. “This is about us, isn’t it?” Fearful his stomach tensed. “Yes.” Dean swallowed. So, this was it. He felt a sudden warmth but quickly the fear covered his joy. He had always admired Cas – not only his power, but also his body. But there was a big difference between admiration and real touching. Once more he struggled for words. Cas looked fearful. “Why, Cas? I am nothing but a half functioning wreck with nothing but a car and some bad luck. You know my life. I didn’t even expect to make it this long. And you are a real, actual angel…” Dean broke off, when he saw how hard his words had hit Cas’. The other one’s gaze became unreadable and he turned away. “You are certainly right. I will continue my task.” Self-hate and fear to lose Cas once more competed inside Deans heart “Cas, wait!” Why was his voice so awfully unsteady? Cas hesitated at the foot of the stairs and looked back to him. “No, you are right, Dean. And I certainly don’t want to burden you.” After that he proceeded to the exit. Dean swallowed. His heart beat fast and painful against his ribs. He was such a fool! If Cas left now, he would never be brave again to start this topic again.         But he won’t let that happen. With four strides, he closed up to the angel and gripped his right shoulder, turning them face to face and pressed his lips onto Cas’. For some seconds, he lost himself in the sensation of the kiss. Then his brain caught up. Afraid to have gone too far he backed off a little and sought eye contact. But when their eyes met, he was nearly unable to bear it. The deep blue eyes were filled with painful longing and confusion. He wanted to say something but before he could Cas gripped his right shoulder, pushing him against the wall beside the door. Cas kissed him fiercely, gripping Deans hair with his left hand. Deans blood rushed in his ears and his face burned. Stubbles rubbed Deans face, his body pinned between Cas and the wall. How could something feel so good but also make him that confused? He just realized he had gripped the coats collar with his left hand, resting the other on Cas’ waist.  Cas backed off a little. Dean was breathless, ans his head spun. When his gaze met Cas, the same confusion, pain and longing laid in the other men’s face. Cas’ hand descended from Deans hair to his neck, caressing his skin and moving forward to the collar of the robe. Deans heart skipped a beat. “Wait. Come with me.”, he said and took a small step back, to the stairs. Reluctantly Cas let go of him and let Dean guide him to his room.

Dean locked the door behind them, finally feeling safe enough to turn to Cas again. Trapped between the bed and the desk, Cas stood there, eyes widened. “Dean, I … should not have… I shouldn’t…” he started. “Shhh”, Dean interrupted him, “Sit with me.” His thoughts a mess, Dean however knew how vulnerable Cas was right now. They both needed a safe place to talk this out. His heart was still racing, though. He gently gripped Cas’ coat making him strip it from his shoulders. The touch made Cas shiver. Where was he directing this to? Did he want that? He quickly dismissed this thought. Cas had kissed the demon Meg as well and nothing had become of that, had it? Surely Cas had no real interest in this. His actions could be nothing more than another transient confusion with his adaption to human emotions.

He took Cas by the hand and made him sit down on the edge of the bed, settling himself beside. He struggled to find the right way to thank Cas for staying, but the longing and conflict in the other man’s eyes made him remain silent. Cas gaze wandered to the open space of Deans bed. The covers were a mess. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse: “What am I to you, Dean?”

Deans stomach cringed painfully. It took him way too long to frame an answer, he couldn’t bring himself to use the same words Cas did. After a seemingly endless struggle, he took a deep breath: “You are the one who gripped me tight and raised me from perdition.”