#but i'd say the Hunt suits her frankly

[deputy-morgan-malone]

OC Aesthetics for the Entities (Magnus Archives)

I'm not sure how much new Spooky Month content I'll be doing this year, I'm pretty tapped out at the moment, but I have had this for a while (created by @sagamemes) and it's pretty spooky, so I figured I'd do it for the start of the spooky season \o/

Tagging @inafieldofdaisies, @turbo-virgins, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @direwombat, @adelaidedrubman, @florbelles, @cassietrn, @unholymilf, @strafethesesinners, @paganminiskirt, @henbased, @deputyash, @roofgeese, @fourlittleseedlings, @josephslittledeputy, @jillvalentinesday, @corvosattano and @voidika to do it too - ONLY if you want to <3

aesthetics for the entities.      bold what applies to your muse, italics what applies situationally or only in certain verses. rest of the fears here.  this is based on a horror podcast;  potentially triggering and / or upsetting content ahead!

Deputy Morgan Malone (FC5 OC)

i.  THE BURIED.          weighted blankets.   drowning.   the comfort of a loved one’s weight. soil & sand piling on top of you. hugging so hard it hurts a little. cramped hiding spots.   letting out air underwater to sink to the bottom of the pool.   walls pressing in on you. not moving from a position even though you’re cramping a little.   dragging the last second before you have to inhale.   lonely subways.   feeling like one with the earth.   a layer of dirt on you.   looking for something below.  cardboard boxes & tiny pillow forts.   hands calloused from digging.  knowing that your purpose is just below the surface. entering your final resting place before it kills you.   a storm drowning you out.  dust & sand speaking to you.

ii.  THE CORRUPTION.          insects.  a close imitation of the natural course of life. an illness in a community. a rag that dirties more than it cleans.   an untreated wound.  containment.   breaching containment.   unbreathable air.   fungi.   one with that you love.   one with what loves you.   a corpse unfit for a glass case.  hearing a song in the sound of tiny wings & legs.  honeycomb patterns.   an ecosystem within a person.  a curse passed on.  the hubris of a scientist.  an ugly death where a glorious one is owed. blood on a handkerchief.  parasites.  something pushing up the sewer.  a mask to keep something out.   trypophobia.  knowing you belong.  death weeks after impact.  fever. food that’s gone off.   pandora’s box.   death behind a glass.

iii.  THE DARK. shadows. lights that turn off by themselves.   the feel of cold marble.   a beaked creature in the night. the difference between seeing darkness & seeing nothing. touch of something you can’t see.  hiding under a blanket.  white,  clouded eyes. months without going outside during sunlight. pouring dark. unscrewing lightbulbs. black matter. light sensitivity. a starless night.  time before light was created.   a shadow on the wall without a body to attach to.  withering plants.  a world without a sun.  footfalls in an empty house in the night.  a light that doesn’t reach as far as it should.  desperate reach for a flashlight.  clothes that hide your shape.   staying unperceivable.   winter months in the north.   an empty church.

iv.  THE DESOLATION. senseless pain.  warmth of faith. wax where skin should be.   a blazing fire.   heat without a source.   the third or fourth tragedy in the family. losing everything you’ve ever held dear. so much to live for,  gone so soon.  the smell of gasoline.   touch that scars. coffee cup that never goes cold. scorch marks on wood.  inescapably warm air.  a child born in fire.  death of a loved one.  a candle without a flame.  an altar in the middle of the woods.  animals with burnt fur.   plastic explosives. burning hot metal.  sweating in an interrogation room.  never touching a loved one. disfigurement. kiss that ruins you.  the scent of burning fat. a tattoo that terrifies its viewer.  the agony of hellfire displayed as art.  auburn hair.  little clothing in cold weather.  a ripple in the air.  trying to cool down in vain.

v.  THE FLESH. body horror.   factories.   a hunger for something more filling. never quite happy with how you look. the terror of an animal waiting for slaughter. a very good meal. the liquid of a perfect steak. fighting your worst survival instincts. a twisted bone.   long nights working out.   more than one heart.   appearance that shapes like clay.   a bag of bones.   bone broth in a pot.   knowing to fear pigs.   the butcher’s shop.   plastic surgery.  something alien inside your body. a hunger in the gaze laid upon you. unwitting cannibalism. forgetting what you used to look like. being admired for your appearance & appearance only.  teeth marks on skin. scars from wounds that should’ve killed you.   cooking in scarcity. fenced in with one way to go.

vi.  THE END.          the last page of a book.  nightmares that don’t feel like nightmares.   a skeletal hand.   the grip of the grim reaper around your throat.   existential pain.   ivory dice.  flatlining in a hospital.  gambling with death.  as old as the universe.  soul & spirit tied to an object.  a dream where you die. closing your eyes for the last time. the pleas of a dying one.  knowing the fate of someone you know & being unable to prevent it.   a thousand cords tugging you towards your end.  skin that’s freezing to the touch.   an act of desperation. someone’s life for yours. an eternity spent alive. the cost of your selfishness.  watching your own burial.   causing your own burial.  the smell of death.  numbness to fear.  words from someone gone. meaninglessness of the actions or lives of single people in the universe.  multiple near-death experiences you refuse to die from.

vii.  THE EYE.          googling something you shouldn’t have. eureka moments.  the unforgiving lens of a camera.   witness reports.   hidden libraries.   eyes of different colors.   feeling of being watched.  a death recorded in tape.   a tragedy you can’t look away from.   endangering yourself for knowledge.   truth.   analog records.   a symbol of an eye.   a watch tower.   compulsion to document.   turning on recording devices without thinking about it.   saving the evidence before the person. extracting information.   truth or dare,  without the dare.  a thirst for knowledge. books that speak to you.   coordinated shelves.   cataloguing systems.   voyeurism.   police report you can’t put down.  reasoning your way out.  smell of old papers.  books that read you back.

viii.  THE HUNT.          sharp canines.   sore calves after a run.   the scent of blood.   an adventure for the journey’s sake.   the adrenaline right before the kill.   a whistle’s echo.   the woods.   the doe eyes of a prey animal.  your own breath in the air.  sharpened claws.   being tracked.   fear of someone knowing your every movement.   hunting down monsters.   hide & seek.   running away only to end up where you started.   staying alive purely because the enemy enjoys seeing you run.   a set of footsteps behind you.   blood dripping from bare hands.   barks & growls.   focused eyes.   a victim going limp under your hands.   a mouth full of fresh blood.   catching the scent of something monstrous.   perfecting your craft.   peering into the dark & running after it.

ix.  THE LONELY.          an apartment too small for a double bed.   completely vacant streets.   waking up to see everyone gone.  fog.  point nemo.  a house too big to hear your family members in.  alone in a faceless crowd.  a mask with nothing behind it.  separated cubicles.  a deafening silence where joy should be.  a blinding spotlight.  the least missed in your friend group.  streets without lights in the windows.  isolation.  not truly knowing your friends.   your friends not truly knowing you.  need for silence.  fear of crowds.  staring into space knowing nothing is looking back at you.  a ship alone at sea.  depression.  knowing your friends are better off without you.  talking to someone only to realise they’re gone.  a family too large to notice you there.  safety in being alone.

x.  THE SLAUGHTER          a game of tag.   senseless violence.   a true crime hobby.   improvised weapons.   blinding rage.   intent to kill.   a horrific day in a quiet community.   a medal of bravery.  holding on to what validates your anger.   history books that spare no details.   an injury you want revenge for.   war.   counting kills.   songs of soldiers.   a knifeblock on the counter.   a pool of blood.   shellshock.   unspeakable horrors.   anger pushing you forward.   unimaginable pain.   not seeing who will hurt you but knowing the pain is coming.   a fully human monster.   an authority sending its lessers to their deaths.   kill or be killed.   unedited wartime memoirs.   a weapons collection.   not knowing the names of who you kill.   too many to remember.   loss of hope.   there’s no heroes in war.

xi.  THE SPIRAL          sleep deprivation.   corridors you can get lost in.   maze puzzles that loop back on themselves.   losing possessions.   losing people.   losing your sanity.   corkscew curls.   rows of funhouse mirrors.   optical illusions.   a separate reality.   walking through the wrong door.   delusions.   not knowing what your hands are doing.   blank spaces in documents.   hallucinations.   wrong proportions.   a nameless thing.   a place that has never existed.   doubting your own mind.   blind faith.   losing track of names,  labels,  categories.   distorted sound.   an imperfection in a glass that twists the view.   loss of time.   a garish colour.   doors that open to nowhere.   lies.   an unnatural laugh.   jokes & tricks.   illusions.   a doorway.   a sculptor with a wild imagination.   limbs in impossible angles.   doing what’s fun,  not what’s sensible.   fractals you can get lost in.

xii.  THE STRANGER          wax figures.   a close approximation of a human face.   a borrowed appearance.   a strange smell.   glass eyes.   furs & pelts.   a dance.   a song of a choir.   the uncanny valley.   stitching yourself together.   the colours of a circus.   a puppet with no strings.   mannequins.   glitter & sequin.   a stranger you’ve always known.   someone strange in the place of someone you knew.   stolen identities.   stolen skins.   a machine imitating humanity.   the anonymity of a service worker.   hiding in plain sight.   uncomfortable to look at.   a faked accent.   concealing.   forgetting who you are.   forgetting who others are.   a replacement no one notices.   images that look posed.   the only one seeing the false face of someone.

xiii.  THE VAST.          open spaces.   carnival rides going up & down.   fear of heights.   endless infinity around you.   your insignificance in an universe.   stomach turning at a drop.   fear of not the crash down but the moment you slip.   the sway of a cable car.   an adventure holiday.   losing track of where the surface is.   miles & miles of nothing around you.   staring at the sky & feeling like you may fall into it.   loss of control.   a fall that doesn’t end in death.   glass floor to the view below.   terminal velocity.   the sound of wind in your ears.   a reach over the railing.   a jump from the top of the building.   falling into nothing.   feeling your feet let go of the ground.   a leap of faith.   motion sickness.

xiv.  THE WEB.          undecipherable code.   a puppeteer holding the strings.   power over the weak—willed.    strings of fate.   manipulation.   an arranged accident.   a hundred minions doing your bidding.   cobwebs.   spiders.   a laid trap.   never voicing discomfort.   outwitting a cheater.   doing things without realising it.   red string across a corkboard.   finding something lost where you were sure you checked.   power over the unrealiability of chance.   watching others dance for you.   an entangled death.   a thousand tiny legs & fangs.   shady forum threads.   something important gone missing.   suspiciously disregarded case.   a missing witness.   connections.   the world wide web.   power of victimhood.   gullibility.   no control over your own decisions.   an invisible leash.   mass psychology.   a horror film in the making.   scapegoat.   never remembering to ask for a name.

+  THE EXTINCTION.          the end of an era.   apocalypse movies.   the alarms of warning systems.   a desolate landscape.   end of the world cults.   nihilism.   the last written history.   a changed world.   no survivours.   old prophecies.   a thousand predicted ends.   a new chapter.   an end with no escape.   catastrophes.   a calendar counting down.   breaking point.   overindulgence.

[dsmadmin]

#MarkOfCain

Written By @DeanWinchester_ @KingOfHell_DSM & @AngelicOperator

The air cold around his lifeless body, encased in darkness. Silence and peace for one rare moment. He'd sought relief from the constant pain knowing he'd gave everything he had left to flee it. A red glow slowly lit the tomb his flesh burning as the demanded payment. Moments later he took a breath, eyes opened looking inhuman. Black and lifeless orbs had replaced the hazel irises. Lifting his right hand to peer at the burning mark. He was closed inside something, putting his hands against the stone cover he shoved hard to the left and sent the stone slab hurling off and hitting hard floor cracking down the middle. Sitting up he pulled the gauze away and climbed out of the coffin. Cracking his neck he looked around adjusting to this void of feeling. There was no pain just quiet. @KingOfHell_DSM

Crowley - •Crowley sat on his throne. Demon after demon complaining about something. Lucifer was out, doing hell knows what. But it played his favor. He could run Hell as he saw fit. It was what he wanted. To command and hold onto the power of the tortured souls of Hell. At this moment. He feared nothing, sure there were things that could kill him. But when his plan falls into place. It will be hard to take him out.

A smirk spread across his lips.* And there it is. What I was waiting for. *The mark of Cain had been a perfect plan. He just had to wait. And it looked like he didn’t have to wait long. With the power of his mind he called.* Come home.

Colt - -Instinctively he disappeared from the cavern and reappeared in hell's throne room. Black eyes focused on Crowley not even acknowledging the demons in the room.-

Crowley - Well..well...Colt Winchester. You surprise me. Already got yourself killed. •he chuckled and stood from his throne.• Leave us. •he ordered the other demons away. They bowed and left the room.• You have made my day I must say. •he walked down to him, standing before him. Oh his plan was falling into place. The key piece had always been Colt Winchester. And now he had him. And he wouldn’t let him go.• Follow me, I have something for you. •he walked around him and to the door. Opening it and stepping out.• I do believe you’ll love this gift. The mark is nothing without it. •hands placed behind his back. He walked through the halls of Hell. To the room where all relics are held. Stepping inside he looked through the mess of relics for the first blade.•

Colt- No speaking he turned and obediently followed, the demons they passed moved the fuck bad whispering to themselves. The torches flickered lighting the way of what seemed to be an endless corridor. Walking in behind Crowley he stood watching, recognizing a few items laying around from the many years of hunting. Lucifer came to mind for a split second but he didn't care anymore so he didn't ask if the angel had returned yet.

Crowley - The first blade laid in a box with magical ruins, that only Crowley could open. When he found it, he wasn’t about to let it just lay around. He whispered words of magic. The box, glowed a deathly black and purple. Lifting the lid, there nestled in a blood red cushion was the

first blade. Made from the bone of a donkey’s jaw. Cain had once held it. And now, now it was for the mark bearer. He gripped it, pulling it from the box. Turning he walked back to Colt.• This is what you will use. You will find it will suit you. •offering it to Colt.• Now, you will get to see some very dear people. •chuckling• Oh to see their faces. You, Colt Winchester, are you to bathe in blood. Even the blood of your family. Unless of course they play nicely.

Colt - Keen eyes never left the demon, taking hold of the gruesome looking blade he felt a surge of power. But more prevalent was the desire to kill. The mention of “family” made him look back up at Crowley his face stoic. A dead man has no family.

Crowley - It much of a talker are you? •chuckles, oh it would priceless to see the faces of his family. When the time came.• Let us first leave a little mark on the world. •motioning him to follow.• There is a prophet. That is highly guarded. He has been such a throne in my side. he lives in New Orleans. Care to have a little fun? •smirks• We will go and find him. You, •points to him.• Are going to kill him, in the bloodiest way possible.

Colt - Falling into step beside him.- I’d be happy to oblige. What makes him hard to find? Is he hidden with magic?

Crowley - •nods as the walk back to throne room.• Yes, strong magic that most demons can’t get through. But you, are different from all other demons. He has a family, they will have to be killed as well. Don’t need them running off and telling now do we? You have to brake the through the wards. I might suspect that hunters might be guarding him as well. Those are another pain in my ass. If there are any there. Take them out as well. It will get back to the other hunters in time.

Colt - No witnesses. Understood.

Crowley - nods, with a smirk. Oh this was going to perfect. Getting back to the throne room. He picked up a file, handing it to Colt.• Here is what was able to be gathered on him. •it was a small thin file.• James Conrad, 38. New Orleans, LA. I’ve explained what I know. He lives just outside the city. Once you’re caught up. We will leave.

Colt - Colt listened but didn’t really give a shit. He could finally breathe without some bullshit theatrics. When emotions aren’t a factor anymore life becomes crystal fucking clear. He’d been an idiot for looking for Jake all these years. He’d been an idiot holding on to hope their family would be fixed or atleast somewhat together. Never again would he bother with him or his bullshit. He was beyond done. Maybe a little guilt was left getting Qhuinn involved. Although Qhuinn hadn’t taken no for an answer either, so the guilt wasn’t just his to bear. He disappeared only to reappear with Crowley outside the “prophets” home. As he let go of the shit from his human life he concentrated on the job in front of him. Clutching the blade he looked at the property. Head tilting to the side as he listened and felt the power radiating off the angels on the property.- There’s three. I’ll be back. -With that he tried to materialize right inside the house but they’d put up wards. He tried to push through the invisible wall but it made little difference. So he put his blade away and disappeared, this time he reappeared and held a woman he’d grabbed from the sidewalk in town.- Here little piggy... come out, come out wherever you are! -Colt held the blade to the bitches throat.- Come on you chicken shit douchebags, I’m gonna cut her throat and continue to cut throats till you assholes come out and we handle this face to face... -The woman struggled against his grasp, whimpering and completely fucking pathetic. He wanted to tell her she was absolutely freaking ridiculous but theatrics...- Five! Four! -The woman screamed begging to be let go. - Three! -A high pitched sound rang in Colt’s ears and thrill went down his spine. The blade ran across her throat and blood sprayed from her carotid artery.- Whoops, my bad! You guys really should come on out! She looks like a fish out of water! God doesn’t care and the angels are dick bags... -The woman dropped to the ground trying to stop the blood but to late because her heart was pumping faster now and the crimson spray was relieving her of the vital fluid. Colt listened, to her last gasps.- To late! I can do this all week! -Poofs, this time the local pastor.- Pastor, do you believe in god? Angels? -His eyes black as midnight.- “I do. Let me pray for, God can help you.” -Colt laughed with no true emotion at all.- Sorry, that boat has sailed. You’re going to die by my hand if the angels don’t appear. If they appear I et you go, if they don’t I’m going to use your intestines for early Christmas decorations on this tree right here.

Ethan - -Ethan had heard rumors that Colt had now become a full fledged demon and now he knows it’s true.

With a soft fluttering of wings, he appears a few feet away from him and a man begging for his life. There is a small trip of blood running *trail down the mans neck where the first blade had made a nick in his skin.-

Colt! Put that down! What has happened to you?

-Ethans voice is commanding and firm, although he is falling apart inside.-

Colt - Ohhh fuckin' heaven does have a sense of humor. -Pat's the pastor on top of the head and shoves him away.- This isn't your fight big guy... and I'd -Starting to circle Ethan.- take a fuckin' vacation for awhile. Consider it some good advice from an old friend. -Jerks a thumb towards the house.- See some of your kin is inside and they're pissing me off. I have a job to do. So bug out or tell the rest of them to hand over the prophet... but either way I'm going to kill them all. If they cooperate I promise to make it fast and painless if not... I'm k ill em' -voice-changing to a more demonic tone.- slowly. I like the screams... I hope they fight back. -Smirks-

Ethan - -Ethan glances over at the pastor who is making a fast getaway, running down the street. Satisfied, he turns his attention back to the demon who has taken over Colt who is circling around him. Ethan crosses his arms across his chest-

Frankly, I’m not impressed. I don’t think You can get inside or you you’d already have done it.

How about you nix the badass routine and we sit down and figure shit out?

-Ethan knows he’s wasting his time, but he feels like he’s gotta try.-

Colt - -Laughs- Matter of time, the body count will rise or I'll bust through this magic. I bet I can drag a witch out here to help. It's cute you're trying to stop me. -Moves closer.- Are you hard? Cause I am. Reminds me of all those fights. I don't want to kill you, no I want you to live. -Throws the blade and buries the tip in the ground.- But the question is how far will you go? I have a lot of clarity nowadays. Not burdened with that fucking heart-wrenching love for your ass. It's amazing how liberating being a demon is. -In reach, he looks up at him.- I've not broken anymore, this is me free of all that bullshit. You'd look so fucking hot in chains... wouldn't have to deal with the bitch version of my whining. I can see why you left, no hard feelings. Hell, I'd have left me too.

Ethan - You sure are a mouthy motherfucker aren’t you? I bet you even like to talk to yourself just to hear yourself talk. -shakes his head, not letting the demon get into his head. Eyeing the knife in the ground knowing its part of his strength-

Colt - -Laughs- You like my mouth.... go ahead, try it. You fastest Ethan? I don't think you are and if you're not careful I'll have to cut your throat, drain your grace.... Now there's an idea, Ethan, human just like Andrew had been. -Shoves him back.- Remember that night on the beach all romantic, just us. Well an Andrew... did you feel betrayed your vessel wanted me too? Cause you my deal angel have always been one jealous fucker. His whimpers were softer than yours... I guess that's where we got our tastes for threesomes huh? Andrew watching and feeling what we did to eachother.

Ethan - -Ethan is usually pretty chilled, but the demon’s words cut deep. Without thinking, he balled his fist and hit him hard with a right hook.- Shut the fuck up. Andrew is not a topic you can speak of.

-He’s working on a plan and is buying some time.-

Colt - -The angel wasn't using everything he had yet and Colt's spit blood from his mouth as he picked himself up off the ground and cracked his neck.- Why? Jealous? I always did like the tender, needy fuckers. I mean look at Jake. But you, you Ethan where on a whole other level, under all that bravado is a broken angel... so fucking sweet I could mmmm savor that forever... -Using his abilities appears behind him and throws an arm around his neck tightening down his hold.- Should we go somewhere private? So you don't have to act this way for your kin inside? See, they know I'll fucking kill them so they're hiding like the bitches they are and they're not gonna shed a tear if I put you down. Join us. We can rule this mutherfucker together. Come on baby... you know you like the dark side. -Licks his earlobe.-

Ethan - You have no damn idea what you’re talking about. So...how about you shut the fuck up. -vanishes from his grasp to appear in front of him.-

I’m giving you one more chance to end this peacefully. I’m tired of talking. -He stands as a warrior. He is the angel of strength and he’s going to show him why very damn soon.-

Colt - Peacefully? You’re a prude Ethan, I don’t want to be saved. -Baring teeth he lunged at the angel tackling to the ground. Colt began whaling on him. He was out for blood, the power of the blade was so strong and he held so much pain inside. And this angel represented a life he