hhhhhhh youre evil (<- youve dont nothing wrong im just projecting ny evil onto you)
talking about that ask on if princess stan clicked as a teen
AND THE MEAN TAGS THAT SAY THAT HE'D BE GONE IN A SCENARIO WHERE FORD DOESNT GO TO GET HIM
does ford ever find out? will he ever know? does answering an ask lead to more new asks like cutting a hydras head?
stan dies alone and cold and tired and scared and these
bet if ford doesnt find out himself, bill would use it to lord over him
Teehee :)
(yes, answering asks is sometimes like a hydra. Take down one and many more pop up into place. Such is the life, but I'm working on it!)
Yup! If Ford doesn't get to Stan and stop or slow down Stan's magic deprivation or do anything to help improve Stan's health, he wouldn't make it. Not only does no one really know what a sorcerer is, his rune is especially destructive, so they aren't going to be as sympathetic towards the homeless teen breaking everything he touches like baby Stan throwing water everywhere, and he hasn't made the connections that would see the benefit like older Stan has. He's a no one, wandering around and constantly breaking anything he manages to get his hands on and is also convinced he's turning into some kind of demon or something.
For Ford life would go on quite the same as it did in Princess Stan, right up until he turns into a dragon. Except there is no Stan to stumble on, and no mail box to find him. No one's heard from him in some time, and while the lingering thought of 'he's dead' is there, its not one he ever gives the barest of attention to. Life goes on, the dragon terrorizes the country side, and no stories of princess's or magic kingdoms come into being. Bill would lord Stan's death over Ford the exact moment he realized Ford's dragon self is low key obsessing over Stan, inciting him to act even more aggressively, and there's no Stan to stop any potential late knight snacking (hehehehe)
Unfortunatantly for everyone, this has a high chance of being a bad end time line. No Stan means no a lot of things that are critical into the survival of their world, which i cannot get into without major spoilers.
BUT! I can always spin a happy ending :) Even a bitter one that's only marginally happy :)
Because Bill is also interested in getting those doors open, after a while he's not going to sit around and waste his time breaking into a castle with a dragon of his own creation guarding it. He also knows Stan exists, and unlike Ford has access to the See rune in all its capacity, and unlike Stan knows he can look into the past and see things.
So there's a chance he'd go skuttle off into the world, find Stan's corpse, and drag it back to the castle. Stan's been dead a good 10 years but thankfully the worlds so close to collapse it doesn't take that much power to shove his demonic hand into the afterlife and grab Stan's soul and use whatever demonic godly power he can save up to shove Stan together into some kind of working order in some dark demonic ritual. He wouldn't even do that much if he didn't need an actual alive body and not a walking corpse, so Stan gets to wake up ten years after he died to a demon sitting on top of him.
He doesn't know Bill brought him back to life, just that the Break rune is quieter (he just got revived, his soul is still settling), and he feels awful (because he was dead). 0 idea of whats going on, just passed out and woke up to this demon telling him its the reason he's not rampaging across the country side, and if he wants to get the Rune to quiet down he's gotta do what it says.
SO slightly altered story with revived half-alive Stan accidentally conning the castle into letting Bill in because no one knows Bill isn't the only thing keeping Stan moving (thats magic baby), and Ford getting hit with all kinds of angst at the sight of his teen bro while Bill shoves some half-assed sorcerer lesson plan Stan's way so he doesn't kill himself again on accident. Stan is so confused and even less believing that this dragon is Ford or that any of this is real or that he isn't turning into some kind of monster. Any time his magic starts to run out he starts dropping and Ford panics, and now there's a side plot of completing the resurrection spell so Stan won't drop dead if he doesn't have enough magic to keep him going.
Small chance it could go that way of course, but anythings possible.
We should talk more about how precious dead bodies are, and how the sanctity of life extends to the sanctity of death. The only time anyone brings this up in connection to body autonomy is when making a point about abortion. There needs to be more awareness of the violence and cruelty of grave robbing and desecration, corpse and organ stealing, and refusing opportunity for the correct death rites.
Summary: Digging up bones is no fun. Until you and Dean have some time to kill.
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Word Count: 1643
Warnings: Language, smut, grave desecration, minor angst, crack, fluff
A/N: This is another story that spawned from a random conversation I had with @dean-winchesters-bacon who also beta’d it. This takes care of the Free Space on my card for @spnkinkbingo. I’m not really sure how else to warn it, but it had me giggling pretty hard because I’m a little twisted. Enjoy!
“We need to invest in a backhoe,” you grunted, hoisting yourself out of the grave to sit on the edge. Removing your glove, you wiped the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. “Or maybe one of those cute little skid loader things.”
Dean chuckled from inside the grave, scooping a pile of dirt out and throwing it over his shoulder. “Bobby used to rent one in the winter since the ground is frozen. I think I still have his groundskeeper uniform.”
Your legs were still dangling inside the grave as you leaned backwards with a groan, feeling the warm grass against your back. It was almost one in the morning and still eighty degrees outside. “I’m so sticky.” Glancing down at the dirt covered white tanktop and dirty jean shorts, you continued, “and dirty.”
“And lazy,” Dean added, slapping your leg. “Come on, we’re almost at the bones. Coffin probably rotted away a few decades ago.”
Sitting up, you sighed loudly before taking a few gulps of water and jumping back into the grave. Normally, Sam and Dean didn’t like to dig graves together since they were both fairly large men and constantly bumped into one another. After one too many shovel hits to various body parts, you volunteered to rotate digging once in a while… and the blisters developing on your hands were not thanking you.
Glove replaced and shovel in hand, you took a few seconds to admire Dean. His back muscles rippled as he scooped up the dirt, and his grey t-shirt was covered in sweat and dirt where it was clinging to his body. Nothing wrong with enjoying the scenery before you got to back to work.
Fortunately, Dean was correct and it only took you another thirty minutes of digging before your shovel struck bone. Brushing the remaining dirt away, you glanced up at Dean as he jumped up and out of the grave, shamelessly admiring his strong bowlegs and thick thighs as he reached for his cell phone and dialed.
“Hey Sammy, you ready?” he said into the phone. Sam replied, but you couldn’t hear anything until Dean confirmed a few things about the ghost you were hopefully putting to bed, ending the call with a gruff, “Call me when he’s there.”
“We’re waiting for the ghost to show up?” you asked, getting to your feet.
Dean sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “According to Sam, this ghost was blessed by a shaman or some bullshit, so the only way to gank it is to salt and burn while it’s manifested. And since the ghost only shows up at the house, we have to wait for Sam to call before we can do our thing.”
“Wonderful,” you groaned, throwing your hands up. “What the hell are we supposed to do in the meantime?”
Dean’s smile turned darker, and you saw his eyebrow raise slightly as he sauntered back to the grave and dropped in. “I can think of a few things.”
Swallowing, you almost jumped out of the grave for your bottle of water, but you managed to keep your cool as Dean slowly came closer to you. “What, do you have some cards or something?”
“I saw you looking at me,” Dean purred, “watching me while I was digging. Did you see anything you like, sweetheart?”
It was not the first time Dean had tried, and succeeded, at seducing you, but you couldn’t help but laugh at the cheesy B grade romance movie pick-up line. “Really, Dean? Is this the beginning of a porno or a really bad rom-com?”
Dean froze mid step and frowned, almost pouting. “I was trying to be sexy.”
“We’re sweaty and dirty, in a grave, standing over,” you backed up and squinted at the headstone, “Charles Wilson. I don’t think there’s any way it could be sexy.”
“Don’t focus on what’s around us. Focus on me,” Dean said quietly as he began walking toward you again. “Focus on my face. Focus on my lips as I talk. Focus on me getting closer.”
It felt like Dean was hypnotizing you. The more he said, the more the surrounding dirt and bones faded away. When he was inches from you, you shivered as his breath fanned across your lips. Closing the remaining distance, you pressed your lips to his, tasting the salty tang of his sweat on your tongue as you slipped past his lips into his mouth.
Dean groaned at your eagerness and walked you backward, pressing your back against the side of the grave under the gravestone. The cool dirt pressed against your heated skin and you shivered. Dean began pawing at your breast through your tanktop and you moaned into his mouth.
“Gotta be fast,” you murmured against his lips, reaching forward and unbuckling Dean’s belt and reaching into his boxers.
Dean groaned into your mouth as your fingers wrapped around his half hard cock, slowly stroking him to full hardness. He reached down and unbuttoned your jeans, pushing them down along with your panties so they were around your thighs. Plunging two fingers into your pussy, you squeaked and spread your legs as far as they could go, burying your face into Dean’s neck as he began to thrust in and out.
“You’re so wet, Y/N,” he whispered into your ear, scissoring his fingers open as your slick coated them.
“All for you,” you whispered back, squeezing down on his fingers. “Fuck me, Dean.”
A grunt was all he replied with as he removed his fingers and spun you around so your hands were braced against the side of the grave. Sticking your ass out, you wiggled and spread your legs, moaning softly when Dean slapped your ass. He lined up and pressed forward, filling you with one sharp thrust.
“Fuck,” you hissed breathlessly, digging your fingers into the dirt under your hands to brace yourself as Dean began thrusting. His pace was wild and unrestrained and you dropped your head, trying to keep your moans quiet.
“Cemetery is a first for me,” Dean grunted between the obscene slapping noise of his hips slamming against your ass.
“Me too,” you laughed, which morphed into a moan as Dean’s cock slammed right against your g-spot. “Mmm, right there.”
“Yeah? You gonna come for me?” Dean growled, reaching around and putting pressure on your clit, just how you liked. He was close, too, based on how hard he was gripping your hips.
The pressure of Dean’s finger was just what you needed and you came with a loud cry, dragging Dean’s climax out of him as your walls pulsed around his cock. The warmth of his cum filling you made you sigh as you came down from your orgasm and panted to catch your breath.
Dean pulled out of your pussy with a hiss, and you could feel his cum dripping out of your hole as you reached down to pull your panties and jeans back up. Dean was buckling his pants again and you turned around, a hazy smile on your lips. His face was twisted like he was in pain, but when he started laughing, you raised a brow.
“Oh no,” Dean gasped between fits of laughter, pointing to the bottom of the grave. The skull you’d unburied had a large glob of Dean’s cum right on the forehead. “Sorry, Mister Wilson.”
You pursed your lips and brought a hand up over your mouth, trying to bite back your own laughter. Dean’s cell phone ringing startled you both and he reached up and answered, breathing in deeply to calm himself before answering and putting it on speaker phone. “Hey Sammy, ready?”
A loud crash followed by a grunt from Sam made you tense and look at Dean. “Sam? Are you okay?”
“Burn them, now!” Sam shouted, followed by another grunt and something else breaking. “He’s full on vengeful now, what the hell happened?”
Slowly, you and Dean both glanced back at the drying cum staining Mister Wilson’s skull before looking at each other again. “You don’t think…” you muttered.
“No, there’s no way he…” Dean began, trailing off.
“Guys?!” Sam shouted into the phone, breaking the two of you out of your respective brainstorms.
“Yeah, sorry, Sam, we’re burning them now, just hang on,” you replied as both you and Dean jumped out of the grave.
Dean dumped salt over the bones and you squirted some lighter fluid down as Dean lit a match. Once the bones were thoroughly saturated, you nodded at Dean and watched him drop the match, lighting the bones. A loud shrill screech came through the phone before it echoed into silence.
“Thanks,” Sam sighed, and you heard a thump as he likely slumped to the floor before the call disconnected.
Standing in silence with Dean while the bones burned, you started giggling, making Dean laugh right along with you. “I think that’s one for the books,” you said, shaking your head.
“Who knew grave desecration could be so much fun,” Dean said, winking at you before he started shoveling dirt back into the grave to put out the fire. “I mean, aside from a ghost trying to kill Sam because we got cum on the dude’s bones.”
“Yeah, but I had fun, too,” you said, blushing while gathering your supplies and shoving them back into the duffel bag. “We’ll have to see if it happens again at the next grave we dig up. You know, for science purposes.”
Dean glanced over at you as you zipped the duffel bag and picked up your shovel. “Yeah, we definitely should do it again. Maybe again when we get back to the motel room, too? Just to be sure.”
A sly smirk spread across your lips as you scooped up some dirt. “Of course. Just to be sure.”
It’s interesting thinking about how what @tyrantisterror has mentioned about mummies taking vengance against European imperialism and @bogleech‘s analysis on how Halloween mummies are mainly defined by their bandages works shockingly well together thanks to history.
Namely, because of how the reason there are so few mummies left is partially because; in the 19th century, rich European assholes would hold “unwrapping parties,” where they’d take actual egyptian mummies and unwrap them in front of an audience as the main attraction.
Now, given that Ancient Egypt as a culture considered bodily completeness in death super important, and put a dickton of religious importance onto preservation, one cannot help but think that the means of that preservation like bandages; so desecrated; might hold onto that spark of holiness. And they would be pissed.
Though, I’m still waiting for the mummy-variants based on stuff like Mummy Brown paint and the (probably apocryphal) trains powered by mummies...
More than 170 graves were desecrated in University City, Missouri in an act of anti-Semitic vandalism. It will take professional help to restore toppled heavy monuments at this historical cemetery. Donations can be made through this link to help pay for the restoration.
