#demonologist!Crowley

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery, @iobsessoverfictionalmen

warnings: swearing, drinking, mentions of sex

AN: Blame Misha for this. He said Cas was basically stealing Constantine's look and then I saw a comment saying 'could u imagine dean and constantine together?' ...YOU ALL KNOW I HAD TO!

“you said bring someone in. I brought someone in.” I said, gesturing to the blond currently raiding the liquor cabinet. Dean gave me a look and I rolled my eyes. “Constantine. Get your head out of the hard stuff.”

“keep your shirt on luv.” John muttered as he drew back with a bottle of whiskey. “Ah there’s the good stuff.” He smiled to himself as he kicked the door closed and made his way to the table. Three glasses sat on the table. John kicked out a chair for me as he started to pour the drinks. He winked at me as I rolled my eyes with a laugh as I took a seat.

“This is your outside source?” Dean asked, watching as John took a drink of his whiskey. “Some British guy in a trenchcoat. We sure this isn’t cas playing dress up?”

“oi. Watch it. I ain’t no fucking angel.” John groused as he plopped down in the chair.

“he’s the devil in the trench coat.” I teased, propping my foot between John’s legs on the chair. He winked at me and I smiled back.

“don’t let luci hear you say that.” John teased.

“I’m sorry. You call Lucifer luci?” Dean eyed John who shrugged as he drained his glass. “What the fuck kind of business are you in?”

“exorcist, demonologist and…”

“master of the dark arts.” I finished, smirking at the frown John gave me. I tilted my glass towards him and he begrudgingly filled it.

“so what? You do what we do?” Dean asked as he finally took a seat. John chuckled.

“more or less.” He shrugged. “Except I leave everyone else alone. Those vampires you take out. The werewolves. They’re just trying to survive mate. They ain’t done nothing wrong.” Dean scoffed as John drank. “The demons I send on a one way ticket back to hell. Somehow I don’t think you realize how many demons you encounter are repeats.”

“Ruby and Meg…” dean started to say. I chuckled as I took a drink.

“Were not the only ones.” John pointed out. “There are plenty others you didn’t even bother learning their names. Now do you want my help or not?”

“if he isn’t gonna take it…I could use your help. Not with this though.” I shrugged. John winked at me with a smirk. Dean gagged. “Hey just saying.” I raised my hands in self defense.

“happy to help with that luv. Even if this partnership don’t work out.” John patted my leg that was still propped between his. I smiled to myself as John poured me another drink. “You gonna drink that mate or stare at it like it’s gonna bite you?” John gestured towards the still full glass sitting in front of dean.

“just trying to figure out if you laced it.” Dean shrugged. I snorted and John laughed.

“oh i like you. Why did you introduce us before luv?” John asked me. I shrugged.

“honestly the special brand of chaos that I just know the two of you would create gave me a headache.” I pointed out. “I’m honestly still not sure this was the right thing to do. But we need you John. Even if he won’t admit it.” Dean grumbled under his breath before downing the whiskey. “There. See? Not laced. Besides if it was the two of us would be tripping out now anyway. Same bottle Winchester.” I tilted my glass at dean. John snickered as he refilled deans glass.

“so what do you have you need help with?” John asked.

“head demon. Named Crowley.” Dean said. “He’s been playing both sides for a little too long. I say we do away with him for good.”

“And I say, along with this one’s brother and angelic boyfriend,” dean kicked my leg. “First off ow. Second off don’t deny it. We’ve all seen the way you two act.” Dean rolled his eyes. “Anyway we all say that we make him choose a side. One way or another. He chooses us great. He lives. He chooses hell. Bye bye Crowley.”

“you talking about the demon who sold his sold for an extra three inches?” John asked, amused look on his face. Dean snorted into his glass and I rolled my eyes.

“men.” I muttered. John tapped his glass against mine.

“you know him?” Dean finally asked. John nodded as he took a drink.

“I know him.” John shuddered. “Those three inches let me tell you…don’t make much difference.” I started laughing, glass slamming down on the table as John seemed to be reliving that moment. Dean stared at John.

“you didn’t.” I laughed, wiping my eyes as tears formed. John frowned at me.

“You know me.” He shrugged.

“sometimes i forget you’ll shag anything that moves.” I sighed as I settled back in my chair. “And that’s another similarity between the two of you.” I shot dean a look. He frowned at me.

“angel or demon?” John asked. Dean sighed before swirling the liquid in his glass.

“both.” He admitted. John raised his eyebrows at dean. I took a drink as I watched the two. “She was in the process of falling when we hooked up.”

“three times. In the back of his car.” I pointed out. “Before during and after.”

“how’d you know that?” Dean asked. I scowled at him.

“who do you think cleaned that shit up?” I shot back. “Let me tell you that wasn’t easy. Leather seats. I can’t sit back there the same anymore.” I shuddered and dean rolled his eyes. John chuckled.

“alright. Maybe there’s more to you than meets the eye pretty boy.” John winked at dean. I groaned as I put my glass on the table.

“yep. There’s two of them now.” I groaned as I stood up. “I’m leaving. Have fun. Don’t…” I pointed at dean and got in John’s face. He smirked at me. “Don’t fuck. I mean it John. Don’t.” John kissed me before leaning back in his chair.

“wouldn’t dream of it luv.” He promised. Deans cheeks were tinted pink. “You know you’re the only hunter for me.” I narrowed my eyes at him before walking out of the room to the sound of John’s laughter and dean groaning.

[theinfernalsanctuary]

Greetings all,

To say that research and study are the backbone of theistic Satanism is probably the biggest understatement of the century, though it can be tricky to know where to start. Most of us in this day and age will start our research online, learning the history of the practice, any active groups, how to avoid cults, and so forth, and while this is a wonderful way to start the sad truth is that it can lead to the spread of a lot of dangerous misinformation regarding practices and rituals. The uneducated leading the uneducated. This is the reason I created this page, to spread actual study and knowledge with those of you who look to walk the cinder laden path to Hell, and to hopefully help you recognize the difference between those who share information for the sake of seeming smart, and those who actually wish to educate like myself.

I have compiled a list of books, all of which are available on amazon, that are a good groundwork for those of us that are actually looking to learn. I would like to add that this list will not include the bible, though it should also be considered even if just for the story of the fall and the first sin. To attempt to distance Satan’s origins from biblical literature is truly incredibly disrespectful, it is to negate the sacrifices that he made to give you the opportunities that you have now. To give you the freewill you have now. I speak not from opinion, or from the nonsensical ramblings of teenagers, but from fact when I say that Satan and Lucifer are one being. It is in the story of the fall and should be recognized if you ever want to be successful on this path.

Admittedly, most of these books are by Reverend Cain (Rev. Cain for short) who is a demonologist and theistic Satanist who has made it his life’s goal to spread the word of Lord Satan and to attempt to right the wrongs that have been done to our community by the uneducated masses. I have great admiration for Reverend Cain and his work, and as far as I am concerned, I believe him to be one of the only writers out there who have any actual qualifications to be spreading knowledge on this subject. Between his religious background, aiming to attend seminary school in the attempt to become an exorcist, and the palpable love and energy that he brings to his writings it is no wonder that his works would be as good as they are.

The first book on my list will forever and always be Rev Cain’s ‘The Infernal Gospel’, Not only is it greatly informative about things like the five Infernal Tenets, but it contains scriptures, information about celebrations and holidays, and so so much more. This should be your first book, if you choose to do your due diligence and study. It can be found here: https://a.co/d/0uFGGVw

The second book on this list, and ideally the second you should consider reading is Rev. Cain’s ‘The Satanic Philosopher’. This book is a deep dive into the five infernal tenets and how they can be applied to life and your practice. It also contains some insight from Reverend Cain detailing his personal experiences. It can be found here: https://a.co/d/8De8HZB

The third book on my list is surprisingly not by Reverend Cain, it is ‘The Lesser Key of Solomon’. The specific copy I will be linking is the one released by Aleister Crowley and S. L. MacGregor Mathers, though they are not the original authors. ‘The Lesser Key of Solomon’ is a grimoire on demonology that was anonymously compiled in the 17th century though the information inside is believed to be a couple centuries older. This one is a difficult read, it is translated from its original text and written as it would have been written then so you can imagine the strain that it has on the modern reader. For this reason I do think that this one, while it should be attempted, can be considered optional, especially when there are easier reads with the same information readily available. If you dare to attempt it, it can be found here: https://a.co/d/bKyv9Gm

The fourth book on this list is actually the “easier read” that I mentioned before, this is Rev. Cain’s ‘Goetia Devils’. The most important information in the ‘Lesser Key of Solomon’ is specifically the ‘Ars Goetia’, a compilation of 72 devils and their abilities, this information is invaluable to any Satanist who wishes to maintain their favor and status among the hierarchy of the Goetia. Reverend Cain takes his iteration one step further, as he also compiles summoning elements for each devil, giving the Satanist a great idea of what they can use for offerings and rituals. It can be found here: https://a.co/d/gLAKZgr

The fifth and final book on this list is another optional one but I thought I would include it for those like me who sometimes struggle to find their words in prayer. Rev. Cain’s ‘The Goetia Hymns’ is a book of prayers and hymns that a Satanist can use to give praise, ask for specific blessings, and otherwise commune with the denizens of Hell. It can be found here: https://a.co/d/8aoB3fF

I hope that this list is useful to all of you who are struggling for information, thankfully, most if not all of these books are available in digital formats for those of you who have to hide yourselves for safety reasons. I am fortunate enough to have been able to distance myself from those who would wish to do me harm over my religious beliefs, and while I hope the same for you I understand that that may not always be the case. I’d also like to look into setting up an outreach program for those of you who want to be able to get these books and continue your study but truly cannot afford to.

May Lord Satan’s light guide you even in the darkest of times.

Ave Satanas!

[crowleybigbang]

Hi! I’ve been binging Supernatural for the first time, and I’m on episode 5 of season 9. A bit after Crowley ALMOST got cured from demon…ism. And I NEED. I NEED fanficitin about cured!Crowley, or at the very least mostlyCured!Crowley. Because oh my good, it’s all I’ve been able to think about. I deep a deep dive into this character RIGHT NOW MAN. I AM FROTHING FOR IT.

I don’t care if it’s shippy or friendshippy either I just need a stories examining Crowley’s guilt and regret and how he screaming “I DESERVE TO BE LOVED” and literally willingly baring his neck for more human blood injections. GUH. HELP. I NEED YOU TO BE LOVED TOO, CROWLEY. SOMEONE LOVE HIM. I want to watch this man break down in tears and sob pathetically on the floor.

They made Crowley so woobie in that episode and I’m not over it.

Well, you came to the right place!

One of the old admins @demonologist-in-denim is no longer active, but he had tons of fanfic about cured!Crowley and on-his-way-to-redemption!Crowley. This is his AO3.

Same goes for @thayerkerbasy - his fics are here.

@walkingaline offers some fics with cured!Crowley, and almost cured!Crowley. AO3 here.

@petrichoravellichor and @greywrenn also had some excellent fics, and series, and tons of fun content to check out about Crowley's life post Hell. Petrichoravellichor's AO3 is here and Grey's AO3 is here.

@additionaladdams also has some fun fics with Crowley and Cas righting some wrongs! Here's the AO3.

Of course, if any minion has suggestions, or I forgot anyone, do come forth!

And... yeah. The show was... nope. I feel you and I feel for you. Welcome to this pit of despair - we have excellent fanfic.

[tyche-gets-a-blog]

Reblogging both because OP's tags are objectively correct

AND TO ADD VERY IMPORTANT INFORMATION: he did. He literally did. This man got hipchecked out of his own damn manga (lest we forget he's the title character) by flashbacks, flashsides, and a hiatus for three-plus years and look at what he went and did with his fucking free time.

Behold, Headmage Dire Crowley, whose name comes to us from that great school of pseudonymic thought that brought us such gems as Dr Medikulskool and Butler Demonologist, The Demon Butler.

He runs, which herein means "shirks all possible duties besides intimidating students and pawning off any magical complications onto actual minors at," Night Raven Academy. A school for magical boys. Also known as Yana's enormous Disney-funded gacha epic, Twisted Wonderland.

Man got put on administrative leave so he decided to go do what he loved.

the circus arc and the public school arc are both inherently funny for the simple fact that Sebastian is just there for the sake of Ciel's mission but he ends up thriving while ciel hates every goddamn second of it

[blogparanormalexpresso2stuff]

Kabbalah & the Occult - Strange Encounters with Real Golems, Dybbuks and Eldritch Beings

The hidden history of Kabbalah stretches from the Ottoman Empire to modern hip-hop, weaving through mystics, hidden brotherhoods, and forbidden knowledge. This episode uncovers the eerie tale of the Dybbuk of Safed, the Zohar’s cryptic teachings, and their influence on Aleister Crowley, celebrity symbolism, and the modern music industry. From Prague to New York, we explore how occult traditions, Qliphoth magic, and esoteric codes continue to shape culture and power.

#diddy #mystery #kabbalah #lovecraft #demonologist

[demonologist-in-denim]

“Oh, you’re right – just let me wave my magic wand and bibbity-bobbity boo the bastard away!” – Crowley, probably

Crowley’s version of spellcraft would be adapted to life on the road, to limited resources and patience, and indifference towards the craft of magic.

Given his history with witches, Crowley would not be disposed to intensely study or use magic. He would be adept at it only because of its usefulness to him and to the boys. And he would be hesitant about relying on it too heavily, preferring instead to use his wits to obtain his goals. Only when the circumstances required it, or it would have proven more efficient in hindsight, would Crowley bother to rifle through magical texts and lore for useful spells. And he would carry only the most basic of spell ingredients, preferring to use whatever came to hand at the time. There’s no time or interest for in-depth study of herbology or biology. His version of spellcraft would directly reflect the life of a demon-turned-demonologist on the road with a pair of flannelled hunters: straightforward, course, bare bones.

This grimy, practical sort of spellcraft would be lacking in dramatic flair. That sort of nonsense would be reserved for striking fear in an opponent, or delighting a layperson. No, Crowley’s sort of spellcraft – if it could even really be called that – would be brusque, irritated, and impatient. (Which might occasionally cause some mishaps. Oops.) And he would have little qualms about using spells or hex bags on victims or allies, if it moved the case along, or offered necessary protection, or avoided violence. For Crowley, hunting would be one small part of everything he and the Winchesters were attempting to accomplish, and individual cases – while worth their while – would still be somewhat of a nuisance. If magic was the quickest means of resolving a case, he’d make use of it, but never relish spellcraft for its own sake.

Crowley would askew most spell ingredients, be more comfortable with common components, use whatever came readily to hand on the road. Graveyard dust, chalk, the stub of a candle. He would carry a battered tin with the most basic of herbs, salt, and the like. No long hours spent over the mortar and pestle for him. His hex bags would be made of thin swatches of old flannel shirts and worn jeans that could no longer be patched, stained oil rags, and paper napkins collected from all the diners and coffee shops along the road. Along with his angel blade and the demon knife, Crowley would always carry a pocket knife, clean and well-sharpened, to slice a palm with. And needle and thread – not specifically for working magic, but one never knows when such things might come in handy.

He would also carry a flask and a lighter. Not a flask containing whiskey or tea. No, this flask would contain blessed water or holy oil, for spellcraft or expelling demons. All well and good, until one night he’d confuse that flask with his whiskey flask, not knowing he was taking a good, long pull of blessed water until it was too late. (Ouch.) To ensure against future mishaps, Dean would suggest “labelling the damned thing,” and Sam, in an attempt at still slow reconciliation, would commission a flask engraved with “Blessed Water: Do Not Drink, Idjit” on the leather encasement. For a while, Crowley would carry books of matches scavenged from motely motel rooms and beer halls. Then one day, in a grimy consignment shop that occasionally peddled supernatural trinkets, he’d come across a shiny, gleaming zippo lighter. Not a scratch on it. Salt and burn, he’d think ruefully. Crowley would carry it separately in its own pocket, where he could reach in, flick open and then snap shut the top. He would hold the lighter in his hand as he stared out the window on long drives, enjoying the sharpness of the sound it made, the way it would irritate Dean in the driver’s seat in front of him.

Crowley would keep a journal, too. Oh, not for magic or anything like that. No, the journal is entirely separate, and will be written about again, at another time. But he would keep a thin, flat notebook of a sort to scribble in. Half his spells would be frankensteined together from work by the grand masters of magic, and his notebook would be full of mad calculation and annotations. Crowley would otherwise prefer to write with ink pens, but – having learned a little something from the Russians – would carry only pencils, worrying them down to nubs with his frantic, irascible scribbling, as he cobbled together spells while wraiths and other threats raged around them.

Crowley would carry it all in a battered leather or canvas messenger bag, something that had seen plenty of wear and tear. The bag itself, in Crowley’s opinion, would be worth more than all the spell ingredients in his tin, and only slightly less than his engraved flask and angel blade. It would be the only bit of spellcraft he was proud of performing. He’d learned a thing or two from Mary Poppins as well – anything that could fit into the opening of the bag, the bag made room for inside. Entire libraries of lore could disappear into its depths, and be called forth by simply reaching inside. Weapons, medical supplies, supernatural artifacts, iron knuckles, summoning bowls, a change of clothes, car parts, packed lunches, once an entire elementary school class. All without adding an ounce of weight. It would be fair to say there would be a time or two that that bag, and what it contained, would save the world.

Crowley wouldn’t care much for spellcraft, and whether or not he was adept at it, whether or not he was a natural, wouldn’t be of much interest to him. What would matter is that magic would be one of the means by which Crowley felt like he was pulling his weight among the boys. One of the ways he contributed, made the world better, made himself of value. And on the very rare occasions another Winchester prank war broke out, would likely prove to be very useful indeed.

Thank you to @additionaladdams for suggesting a witch!Crowley mood board. As I tried to decide on what images to use, I began to think about how Crowley would use untraditional ingredients and implements for spellcraft that were better suited to life on the road and his own distaste for magic. And that led to all this wonderful character development, which gave me a great deal of insight for my Bergamot & Sulphur series, as well as my One of the Boys series. The bottomless messenger bag has been with me a very long time, well before I actually began to write spn fanfiction, and I’ve always imagined Crowley – as one of the boys – would utilize it. The bag actually has quite a bit of backstory that, like the journal mentioned above, I won’t bore you with here.

The non-quote at the top is what I imagine Crowley snarking back at the boys with after one of them suggests using magic to take out some opponent that they are ill-equipped to defeat. I think it sums up his opinion of spellcraft – and occasionally, the Winchesters – rather well.

[kaesaaurelia]

you are here

For @whumptober day 15: Emotional Damage, using the prompt "lies."

Continued from day 6, wherein Hell sent Aziraphale a ransom video of Crowley, captured and beaten up, and day 10, where Crowley endured searing torments and discovered that truly, Hell is other people.

When the demons came back around to dip them in lava again, Crowley, having learned his lesson now, permitted the damned souls to be encased in lava over time, until they were weirdly cocoon-shaped geodes of entitlement, and they were unhooked carefully from the candle-dipper and carried somewhere else. By this time he was very badly burnt and just wanted to hole up somewhere and shed all his skin as soon as possible. He tried to slip away while the supervisor was looking the other way, but the weird pink tentacles sprouting from her nose swerved in his direction as soon as he tried to get past her, and she dug her claws into his shoulder to stop him. "Where d'you think you're going?" she asked.

"I've, er, got an appointment," Crowley invented.

"Blessed right, you do. They told me to keep you here 'til they came and took you to it."

Crowley tsked loudly, trying not to be annoyed that the demon's claws had pierced both his jacket and his shoulder. "Well, all right, if you like, but don't be surprised if Someone's very upset with you," he said, going for ominous and managing slightly bratty.

The demon looked deeply unimpressed. "Did you really think that'd work? Come on, you saw the kind of humans we work with here, did you think I'd say 'Oh yes, of course, sir, whatever you say, I must have been mistaken, sir, I'm so sorry'?"

Crowley had to admit she had a good point. "Right, okay, yeah, but look --"

"No," she said.

"Look, could I just --"

"No," she said again.

"I'll wait here," Crowley promised, "I just want to let someone know I'm going to be late. To my appointment. Could I... is there a payphone or something?"

She considered this for a moment. "You did defend us out there. You also made our job harder."

"But I did defend you, yes!" said Crowley, seizing on this one thing.

After another long pause to consider this, she finally drew a black rectangle out of her pocket. "One of the humans gave me this to hold while we dunked them. I can't fucking use it, I can't see, but it's electric," she said, tapping it with one of her nose tentacles. "I assume it's one of those awful newfangled things they have now."

Then she held it out to him. It was a phone.

"There are mobiles in Hell?" Crowley asked. He'd assumed from all the interruption of all his radio and television programs that such things were beyond Hell's comprehension.

"Apparently they make the younger humans anxious, and the older ones get angry about them," she said, "so we import them specially. I ate one once by accident," she added, making a face. "Very crunchy, not a lot of flavor. So I don't really want it."

"What do I have to do for it?" Crowley asked.

"Just don't give it back to that bitch, I'd love to hear what she has to say when I tell her I lost her stupid thing," said the demon. "And don't say I did you any favors."

Crowley almost thanked her as he took the mobile from her, but thought better of it at the last moment. "I won't," he said.

--

Aziraphale had spent several hours sneaking through the bureaucratic offices of Hell already, trying to find Crowley without anybody finding him, and he'd had no luck at all. He found himself blankly staring at a wall full of memos and notices, wondering where to go next, when one of the notices caught his eye.

ANGEL, it started.

He supposed at first that it was a very poorly-designed wanted poster for himself, but to his astonishment it was not.

ANGEL - BEING TAKEN ON GRAND TOUR OF TORMENT. HEADED TO CENTRAL DIS TO BE GNAWED BY SOMETHING? FOR A WHILE, WILL PROBABLY TAKE 2-3 DAYS. HOPE YOU HAVE A MOBILE.

He folded the notice and put it in his pocket. He was going to have to get to Dis.

Dis proved more difficult than he'd expected, however. He had trouble at the ferry, because of course Aziraphale had what he thought was the requisite two coins, but the fare had gone up a lot, and so, having missed his first chance, he had to wait for an hour and a half for the next one, only that one didn't come, and it was the last ferry of the day. Aziraphale ended up waiting, frantic with worry for Crowley, in a nasty-smelling station where all the chairs had mysterious liquid pooled in them, for twelve hours before he was finally able to cross the Acheron to get to the outskirts of Dis.

By which point Crowley's location had changed again.

HAVE BEEN GNAWED. SORRY FOR TOPICS, MISSING 3 FUNHOUSE. OMW TO BE ENCRUSTED, said the absolutely baffling notice that was plastered to an electric pole in Dis.

A nearby billboard was a little more helpful. FIGURE! ENSTOATED!, it shouted, next to a photograph of a smiling demon in a suit and tie. (It was not Crowley. Aziraphale had to assume the demon was the Infernal equivalent of a personal injury lawyer, since the telephone number at the bottom, helpfully transcribed in both letters and numbers, was +666 3472 677678, which translated to the extremely clunky +666 DISC ORPOR8.)

Aziraphale didn't know what was missing three figures, nor whether being Encrusted or Enstoated was worse, but the especially frustrating part was that there was no hint as to where Crowley was.

Another notice, this one the caption for a poster depicting a lost bat, clarified things very slightly. FINGERS. MISSING 3. SORRY. DUCKING AUTOCORRECT.

The description of the lost bat was briefly an actual description of a lost bat, but Aziraphale blinked, and it suddenly resolved into I'm in the 9th Circle. Don't come here.

Aziraphale did not take the poster; whoever had put it up would still be missing their bat, and resolved to find his way to the Ninth Circle if it killed him.

He puzzled out the universe's least helpful map -- "YOU ARE HERE" was the title, and there was no indication as to where he actually was -- and then waited three hours for a bus that was supposed to be coming in 15 minutes. Eventually he decided to walk to the train station he needed to get to. There were no sidewalks, he was nearly run over several times, and it began to rain a searingly hot green liquid that ate pits in the sidewalk and ruined his umbrella and coat.

Aziraphale was utterly exhausted by the time he got to the train station. It was -- because of course it was, this was Hell! -- it was not underground, or at ground level, or even elevated one or two storeys up. Oh no, it was attached to the ceiling of the cavern.

Aziraphale sighed and brought his wings out, or tried to, but pain shot through him like electricity, and he realized he'd missed the ABSOLUTELY NO FLYING notice on the sign pointing upwards to the station.

As Aziraphale climbed the rickety, ancient staircase, he could see the way the track plunged down into a great gaping hole in the ground a bit further on, and was relieved that it probably did go to the Ninth Circle, if it ran at all, which he doubted.

But when he was, oh, perhaps five or six stories from the station, there was a great rumbling noise that rattled the staircase and made it shake so hard Aziraphale nearly fell off. He began taking the stairs two at a time. He made it to the platform just in time to watch the train roar off into the abyss.

The electronic sign at the station suggested that the next train would be along in twenty minutes. Aziraphale knew this was a lie. Wishing he could miracle away the stitch in his side, he sat down on the one single bench at the station, which had armrests built into it just wide enough that Aziraphale fit, but they dug into his legs painfully. He wondered if Crowley would've been able to sit here comfortably, or whether the armrests would have adjusted to make him uncomfortable too.

Aziraphale had the brief and uncharitable thought that Crowley had probably suggested they do this, since it struck him as a very human thing to consider, and then he considered what Crowley was going through, the enstoating, or ensconcing, or encrusting, or whatever he had tried to type, with three missing fingers, and he felt ill.

As he waited, the station went from empty to crowded, and by the time the train came, about an hour later, he and the other commuters had to sardine themselves into it. All the damned human souls seemed to have mobiles, but none of them had headphones, and so the train was a cacophony of music, repetitive videos, and distasteful political rants playing tinnily on tiny speakers, with the sound of screaming infants piped in over the tannoy for realism.

That was all right, though, because it all sort of blended into a disagreeable white noise. Aziraphale closed his eyes and tried to relax as the train pitched down into the lowest circles of Hell, and no matter how badly the cars jostled, nobody fell over, because they were far too tightly packed.

In fact, something about the familiarity of the whole thing and the heat of the poorly-ventilated train car must have got to Aziraphale, because the next thing he knew, his cheek was resting on a frigid and slightly sticky floor. It was pitch black, and the train was rattling around him.

Aziraphale hauled himself his feet and walked face-first into a pole before grabbing onto it to stay upright. He looked around. There was a dim light at one end of the car, and he made his way carefully towards it, thinking perhaps in the next car there was light.

But as he approached, a terrifying visage came out of the darkness, with staring white eyes and knife-sharp teeth; the little point of light was suspended from an antenna sprouting out of its forehead as a lure for the unwary. Aziraphale recoiled.

"Oh, there you are," said the anglerfish demon, sounding pleasantly surprised.

"What have you done to the lights? Where are we going?" Aziraphale demanded.

"Oh, that just happens on this train, especially in the Ninth Circle," said the demon pleasantly. "You fell asleep. They were going to kick you off at the end of the line, but I figured you probably meant to get off earlier than that."

"But I was going there!" said Aziraphale, frantically. "Stop the train! Or, or -- when's the next stop?"

The demon sighed heavily, and though his countenance still looked vicious, Aziraphale realized that might have been more because of the teeth than because he was particularly aggressive. "Look, even I don't come down here if I can help it, and I'm a Duke of Hell," said the demon. "Also, if they found out I'd allowed an angel to get all the way down here without ripping his throat out, they'd look at my records. Things would be called into question. I may have been fudging certain quotas over the years, here and there, because frankly it's very hard to get to Earth what with all my duties in Hell. I'm sure you understand; I remember Heaven well enough."

Aziraphale didn't trust this demon, but he was almost friendly, and Aziraphale was so tired. His whole body ached in various ways he could usually escape on Earth. "I'm trying to find a friend," he admitted.

"In the Ninth Circle?" The demon drew closer. "Oh! You're Crowley's angel, aren't you?"

Aziraphale stepped back hurriedly. "What? No! I don't know who that is," he said, unconvincingly.

"Relax, I'm not here to snitch on you. Like I said. People will ask inconvenient questions. Anyway, I used to be his supervisor, back before he got to be such a big shot with all that apple stuff. I'm still in contact with a few people we worked with, here and there," he added, cheerfully.

"Ah," said Aziraphale. "But I thought Lucifer..."

"Oh no, Lucifer was the big boss. I was the little boss," said the demon.

"Ah. And you were... friendly?" Aziraphale knew that Crowley had done good work during Creation, doing... things with stars.

"Oh, no, he was an exhausting little shit," said the demon, "but he was talented. And honestly? I like Earth. I only get to go every now and then but it's nice up there. Quieter. I have a friend up there who keeps trying to talk me into moving up there to teach physics -- she's an angel, she's my assigned rival for some reason, but I don't really think of her like that, we're just friends. Anyway, the only reason I don't take her up on that, honestly, is I have a bunch of Erics to look after, and I don't need grad students on top of the Erics. But Earth seems nice, you know? And I didn't want to lose another war. And I didn't really like our odds. So you go on and enjoy your lack of apocalypse."

"Yes, thank you," said Aziraphale, impatiently. "I'm glad you appreciate, er, the great service Crowley and I did, but he's in the Ninth Circle. I'm trying to retrieve him."

The demon shook his head, his little lure-light bobbing back and forth. "You're not getting him from there. Not and getting out alive. Didn't they kidnap him to trap you?"

"Well... yes, but I've been getting these, these text messages from him --"

"If he told you to come find him in the Ninth Circle, he's not worth saving," said the demon.

"Oh, no," said Aziraphale. "Actually, he told me not to come, he's very considerate, he's really a dear, but how could I just leave him --"

He stopped.

The demon looked at him expectantly.

"How could I just leave him?" Aziraphale repeated to himself. "And why would he have told me that, if he really didn't want me to come find him?"

"Do you think," said the demon, "that every message you get is guaranteed to come from Crowley?"

"Ah." It had had a suspicious lack of typos, especially for having been typed with three fingers missing. "It was a trap, wasn't it?"

"Definitely a trap," said the demon.

As they spoke, the lights in the train had gradually come back on, and scenery began flashing by -- Hell scenery, but still, scenery. Aziraphale watched two nude ice-skaters flee down a frozen river from a phalanx of crocodiles, then saw an unlucky third ice-skater further down the river being devoured by several of them. "Do you think he actually was in the Ninth Circle?"

"Maybe," said the demon. "Do you know what was supposed to be happening to him?"

"Something about encrustment? Or possibly enstoatment?"

"Oh!" said the demon, brightly. "Yeah, that's pretty bad. But it's not Ninth Circle bad. It's like, Eight and a Halfth Circle, at worst. Although they're actually thinking about drilling down further to make room for all the weird new sins humans are inventing, which is kind of exciting."

"Ah," said Aziraphale. He did not much care about that.

His reverie was interrupted by the sound of static from the tannoy, cutting into the screaming infant soundtrack. "The Next Stop Is..." said the announcer, fuzzily, and then came Crowley's voice. "Aziraphale! Can't talk much, look, please hurry, they're taking me to the Lethe, I don't know what's going to happen if they do that. Fuck, I hope you're getting these." There was a long, staticky pause before he added, "I love you."

Then the screaming baby sounds began again, as if they had never stopped.

Aziraphale stared at the demon, Crowley's supposed former supervisor. "Did you hear that?"

"I mean, kind of? But I can never figure out what stop that's supposed to be. I think we're coming up on Dat, or maybe Dose," said the demon. "It'll be a while 'til we get back into the actual city of Dis."

Either he was lying, or he hadn't heard it. Aziraphale chose to take a leap of faith. "If I had to get to the Lethe, very quickly, and as safely as possible, how would I go about doing that?"

The demon's white eyes widened. "Ah. Another message?"

"Yes. You don't think it's --"

"I have no idea whether it's real," said the demon. "But if you want to get to Lethe... either you're looking at a six-hour bus trip with three transfers, or you're going to have to get someone to drive you. Traffic will be terrible this time of day, but --"

"Do you know anyone who could take me?" Aziraphale asked.

The demon made a pained face. "Well, not me, I'm not a bad enough driver to get a license." He seemed to take pity on Aziraphale, though. "All right, okay, look, it's a pretty long shot, but... I might know someone who can help you out, if the stories I've heard about you are true."

"The stories? What stories?" Aziraphale asked.

"But I guess you'll have to find out. And no promises." He began checking his pockets, and fished out a pen. "Do you have any paper?"

"Yes!" said Aziraphale, gratefully presenting him with the notice he'd taken days ago from across the Acheron.

"Okay, great. Also, sorry, my pen's out of ink because I think most of them just come like that in Hell, so you're going to have to be able to read the indentations." With some difficulty, the demon chiseled instructions into the paper, and hurried Aziraphale off at the next stop. As the train pulled out of the station, Aziraphale frowned down at the paper, puzzling out the directions and the address. He started off, still daring to hope he was going the right way.

[to be continued on day 16]

[spnreverse-promptchallenge]

Uncle Crowley's Goodness Level by @demonologist-in-denim

Ship: N/A

Helpful Hints from Artist: I would be interested to see Crowley's reaction should Jack or the Winchesters share the crayon drawing with him. But it would also be fun to see them hide it from him, either out of their own embarrassment or because they don't want to embarrass him.

[threshasketch]

An art commission for the lovely (and patient!) @demonologist-in-denim ! I tried both hand lettering and typed lettering and decided the latter looks nicer. ♥

[hekate1308]

(insp.)

[witch333s]

valac (coolor, ualac, volac)

rank: prince/ president ;;; appears as a child with wings riding a two-headed dragon he giveth true answers of hidden treasures and where the serpent may be seen governeth 38 legions ;;; 62nd on Solomon’s key

wItch333s

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery, @iobsessoverfictionalmen

warnings: swearing, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), threesome, demon Dean

I crossed my arms as I looked at Dean tied to the chair. He smirked back at me and I turned away.

"You know that isn't gonna hold him." I said to Sam as I walked out of the room. "He's going to get free. And he's going to come after you." I pointed at him as Sam nodded.

"I know. That's why Cas is here." Sam said. Cas had been holed up in the war room looking over books for something to free Dean from the demon Crowley put in him.

"And you think Cas is going to be able to hurt Dean?" I asked, raising my eyebrows at him. "I don't think so. Dean is going to come for you and there is nothing anyone is going to be able to do to help you."

"Well then what do you suggest?" Sam asked, throwing his hands up. I sighed and pulled out my phone.

"I know a guy." I said, already dialing the number. "He's a little brash but honestly, he's exactly what I need. We're going to have to clear the bunker though. He doesn't trust Crowley and he will not take kindly to Cas being here." Sam nodded as the man in question picked up. "John! Hey."

"What do I owe the honor of hearing your pretty voice luv?" John asked, clearly having just wrapped up an exorcism. "Getting tired of working with those brothers? You know you never were able to replicate the times you had with me. Said they were the best you ever had." I chuckled and shook my head as Sam watched me.

"I never said that. You did." I teased. "I'll cut to the chase John. I got a problem. With a demon. That won't...vacate." John sighed.

"Dean Winchester. Yeah Crowley told me what he did." John said. I heard the click of a lighter and ran a hand down my face.

"What were you doing talking to that fucker?" I asked. John was quiet while he took a drag.

"He came to find me. Something about what he could do to remove the mark of Cain." I swore under my breath and John sighed. "Yeah. I told him he couldn't do it. But apparently he did anyway."

"Yeah and now we're trapped in the bunker with him. I told Sam he would get out..." I leaned against the wall and looked down the hall at the door Dean was locked behind.

"But the big lug wouldn't listen." John finished. "Figures." He huffed and the flap of his trench coat fluttered through the phone. “I’ll be right there luv. We’ll get this sorted. Just make sure the angel and Sam are gone by the time I get there.”

“That I can do.” I laughed. “Be seeing you John.” The line went dead and I gave Sam a look. “Get out. You and cas. Demonologists orders.” I smiled at him as he stared at me.

“but dean…” he started.

“is going to be taken care of. We need to leave Sam.” Cas said, appearing by my side. I smirked at Sam as cas grabbed his arm and practically dragged him out of the bunker. As the door to the bunker slammed shut, a spark appeared next to me. It opened and John stepped through.

“they’re gone.” I said as I turned towards him. John kissed my cheek in greeting. “Just left. What do we need to do?”

“let’s go see him.” John shrugged off his coat and tossed it into my room. “And we’re probably going to visit that once we’re done.” He jabbed a finger over his shoulder as he realized what the room was.

“we’ll see.” I laughed.

“well we never did discuss the payment for this little endeavor.” John teased, leaning towards me.

“if you can pull it off.” I shot back. “Cas couldn’t find anything in any of the literature to suggest that we could even…” John smirked at me. “What? What do you know that a literal angel couldn’t find?”

“he’s not a demon possessing a body luv.” He said. I paused outside the door and stared at John. “He turned dean into a knight of hell. No different from Crowley. Not a demon. Not a human. Something in between.” I stared at him in shock. “You can’t exorcise what isn’t there.” John winked at me before pushing the door open. “Dean Winchester. Never had the pleasure. Heard good things of course.” John jerked his head towards me as I walked in, locking the door behind us.

“John Constantine. Demonologist, exorcist and master of the dark arts." Dean said. John's mouth twitched.

"They still calling me that down there?" John asked, shoving his hands in his pockets. Dean smirked and pretended to think for a minute while I leaned against the wall.

"Just Crowley." Dean said, finally looking at John. The two men started a staring contest and I pushed off the wall.

"We doing this or not?" I asked. John's eyes flickered over to me. Dean took his time looking me over.

"Yeah. We're doing this." John grumbled. He took off his trench coat and tossed it on the table in the corner.

“oh good. I thought I’d have to endure more of that.” Dean muttered as he snapped his restraints.

“crap.” I hissed as I backed towards the door. John started muttering in Latin as dean made a bee line for me. “A little help here John!” I called as dean grabbed my throat. John's eyes rolled back and I screamed. "NO!"

"Relax sweetheart." Dean chuckled. "He's just trying to get rid of me." I gripped his wrist as he tightened his grip on my throat. "It isn't going to work Johnny boy. Better stop before I do something we both regret." John paused, eyes meeting mine as I looked between the two men. "Good boy." John bristled slightly at the praise.

"So what now?" John asked, slowly making his way to the wall Dean had me pinned against. His eyes flicked down to my hand that was pressed against the wall. I flexed my fingers and John nodded. "You kill them. Then me. Then what? You can't die. The mark won't let you. Crowley keeps you on a short leash. So what can you really do?" I felt the cold handle of a knife against my palm and curled my fingers around it. John's shoulders sagged in relief as he watched.

"Easy. Get out. Kill the angel and demon. Play with the brother a little. Then take over Hell." Dean turned his head slightly to look at John over his shoulder. I moved my hand from Dean's wrist to his chest, slipping my foot between his. With a sharp shove, I managed to spin us around while putting the knife to Dean's neck. He chuckled darkly as his hand dropped from my throat. "Well well well." He smirked at me as his hands came to rest on my hips. "Go ahead. Do it." His eyes darkened as he watched me.

"Do it (Y/N)." John urged. "Buy us time." I stared Dean down, lips curling into a snarl as he smirked at me. My nose twitched as I watched him. "What are you waiting for?" John practically yelled.

"No." I said, backing away slightly. "It's what he wants." I tilted my head at Dean, smirking when he realized he was once again trapped against the wall. A small sigil was holding his hand to the wall. I turned back to John and tightened my grip on the knife. "What do we do? You can't exorcise him. Whatever you were trying to do before didn't work. We can't kill him because it'll just free him. Now what?" John looked over at Dean and chewed on his lip.

"Well..." John fidgeted in place. "He's basically feral right?" I nodded. "What if we got that energy out another way?"

"What? Like fuck it out of him?" I asked. "John I don't think he's gonna let you top him." John blushed and gently shoved me.

"They're right you know." Dean called out from his place on the wall. "Besides you're not really my type. Sorry handsome." John turned a deeper shade of red as he turned back to me, pulling me a little further away from Dean.

"No. But..." John played with his tie as he looked me over. "There is a chance that he'll fuck you. You said Dean was a womanizer right? We get him worked up enough and there is a chance he'll play into our little game."

"You just want an excuse to fuck me with him watching." I teased John. He rolled his eyes at me.

"This isn't some voyeurism kink (Y/N). This is trying to literally suck the demon out of Dean." John explained. "But if he is any inch the macho asshole you described, he's not going to let you just do it."

"Play into his ego." I said, shooting him a glance as he smirked at me. "Make him think that I don't give a shit about him. That someone else is better and he has to prove his worth." John nodded, pointing at me.

"Bingo." John confirmed. I put a hand on his chest and gulped.

"But wouldn't that mean the demon will possess me?" I asked, worry clear on my face. John curled his hand over mine and squeezed.

"Yeah." He confirmed. My eyes darted over his face. "I'll get it out though. It won't be the same demon. Right now its emboldened by the mark. With you, it'll be a run of the mill demon. Easy exorcism."

"John..." I whispered, moving closer to him. John wrapped his arms around me. "I'm scared."

"I know luv." He whispered as he rubbed my back. "I am too. But we've got this. Yeah?"

"Yeah." I nodded. "Let's do this. Scared or not." John pulled back with a tight smile. He cupped my cheek before looking around.

"Sorry luv but the table is really our only option here. And I am too. Don't think you'd wanna call back the angel and brother just to do the trick."

"Its fine." I shrugged. "And you're right. I'd much rather it be you than anyone else." John smiled softly at me. He stepped forward and cupped my cheeks. "I trust you."

"A terrible idea really." John chuckled, kissing me with a smirk. I hummed as I reached up to wrap my hand around his tie. John chuckled as he pulled away, hands falling to my hips. "Hmm...minx." I laughed as John gently pulled me back towards the table as I pulled him back into another kiss.

"Says you." I whispered against his lips. Dean had gone suspiciously quiet in the corner. "You know you're going to have to wipe that little sigil away right?" John nodded as he spun us around and pinned me against the table. He kissed me deeply, slowly bending me backwards until I was laying down. He gently helped me get situated as my hands made quick work of ridding him of his tie.

"When he's ready to join, I'll do it." John confirmed. His hands slipped under my shirt and pushed it up slightly. I went to work on the buttons on John's shirt as he started to kiss along my neck. I stifled a moan as he sucked on my skin. "Oh now don't do that luv. You know how hard it makes me when I can hear you." My breathy chuckle turned into a moan when John gently bit down on my shoulder. "Oh there we are." I pushed John's shirt off as he changed paths and worked on my pants. Sitting up, I looked over my shoulder at Dean before peeling my shirt off. John's eyes widened slightly as I tossed my shirt in the corner. He licked his lips as I giggled.

"Nothing you haven't seen before Johnny." I teased as he crawled his way over me, having let my pants drop to the floor. My hands slipped to his belt buckle as his hips bucked. "Easy big boy." I warned as I slipped my hand into John's boxers as he worked to ride himself of his trousers. He moaned as his eyes fluttered closed, hips bucking with each pass of my hand over his cock.

"(Y/N), quit teasing." John said, trying to sound forceful but just sounding blissed out.

"Its called foreplay John." I teased as I let go of him to push his boxers off. "Maybe you should learn how to do it sometime." John scoffed as he pumped himself a few times.

"Ready luv?" He asked. I nodded, shooting Dean one last look before focusing on John. "Not too long now." John whispered as he eased into me. I moaned as I wrapped my arms around his neck. My nails dug into his back as John bottomed out. "Fuck. Never gonna get used to that. You taking me so well."

"Me neither." I whimpered as John kissed my cheek. Dean groaned in the background as John started thrusting into me slowly. He kissed my neck as I moaned at the stretch. "Fuck John." I moaned as he set a pace. John smiled against my neck and I felt his hand move at my side.

"He's on his way over." John whispered as he lifted his head.

"Such a naughty show for such a pristine hunter." Dean mused as he unzipped his pants, belt discarded on the way over. "Didn't know you had it in you." I stared up at him. He had his hand down his pants and was stroking himself as he looked me over. "You on the other hand...Crowley has stories." Dean nodded at John who winked at him.

"Sounds like I give you a run for your money." He teased, watching as Dean pulled himself out and lined himself up with my mouth. I tilted my head back further after a nod from John. Dean slid into my mouth and I immediately started running my tongue along his length. Dean moaned as John raised an eyebrow, smirking at the bigger man. I hollowed my cheeks and sucked, making Dean almost sag against the table my head was almost hanging off of. John chuckled. "But seems like they have us both beat."

"Oh fuck me." Dean moaned. John laughed as I continued to suck on Dean's cock. "Did you know how good they are at this?"

"Of course I do." John teased, watching as my face contorted as he angled his hips. "I would have thought you would have already known." I moaned around Dean's length as John brought me to my orgasm. He kept thrusting, chasing his climax. Dean gripped the table as his knees buckled. John ran a hand down my side as he came with a grunt. My eyes flicked down to his and he nodded, placing a hand on my chest as I continued to blow Dean.

"Oh shit." Dean moaned as he finally collapsed against the table, cumming in my mouth. He pulled out and fell to his knees. I groaned as I swallowed, gripping John's arm as I felt the demon take over. My eyes rolled back as I went slack.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica. Ergo, omnis legio diabolica, adiuramus te." John started, pressing against my chest as he hurried to get the demon out of me as quickly as possible. With his other hand, he made the sign of the cross and started repeating the exorcism as I started to shake.

"You have..." Dean looked up at John. "Prayer...We need..."

"I'm not letting no bloody angel touch them!" John roared. "Its your fault they're in this mess. They called me in to protect them and your sorry ass. I am going to protect them." His eyes rolled back as he changed tactics. With a gasp, my head fell back and a black cloud came out of my mouth. I panted as I turned my head against the cold table.

"John..." I murmured. John let his head fall to my chest as he sighed with relief. "Its over isn't it?" John lifted his head to look at me, eyes shining as he slowly pulled out and stood up. He offered me his hand to help me off the table.

"Its over." He confirmed, grabbing my clothes and helping me dress before doing the same. He kept a hand on me to keep me steady, shooting a glance at Dean still kneeling on the floor. "He's still got the mark but the demon is gone." I turned to look at Dean, moving around the table to run my fingers through his hair. Dean moved to rest his head against my leg as I did. John looked on wearily, draping his tie around his neck but not tying it.

"I'm sorry." Dean whispered, hugging my leg. I scratched his scalp and sighed.

"I know." I whispered back. "I'll get Sam and Cas back here. They'll keep an eye on you. We've got some unfinished business." I jerked my head back over to John. "Be thankful I could get in touch with him before things got much worse." Dean nodded, looking over at John with shining eyes.

"Consider it on your tab." John said, reaching for my hand. I took it and let him pull me away. "I will come collect one day."

"Come on John." I said as I led him out of the room. We went down the hall to my room. He sat on my bed as I called Sam to let him know it was done. They were about an hour from the bunker and would be back as soon as possible. Cas had somehow found out about a job while they were out. I rolled my eyes as I hung up. "They'll be back soon. On a hunt." John nodded and held his arm out. I climbed onto the bed next to him and let him pull me close. He kissed my temple as I wrapped an arm around his stomach. "I've over."

"Yeah." He murmured. "And you're safe." I nodded as I leaned my head against his. "It wouldn't budge for a moment. He wanted..."

"I know." I said. "You were fast enough. It didn't really take hold." I reached up and cupped his cheek. "You did it John Constantine." He closed his eyes as he leaned into my touch.

"Yeah." He whispered. I gently kissed him and tugged him down so we were laying on the bed. I reached down and grabbed the blanket, pulling it over us. "I'm just glad you're safe." I smiled softly at him.

"Me too."

[weedoccultadvice]

I have (at least) SIX COPIES of the Goetia.

The Lesser Key of Solomon | Occult Book Club

There's no hiding it when you're a demonologist. Your own bookshelves out you.

Some of these books aren't possible to buy directly anymore. Here's the links for the ones that are. Using these links to buy the books gives me a referral bonus so clicking on them is appreciated!

The Lesser Key of Solomon edited byJoseph Peterson The Goetia of Solomon the King (Fascimile Edition) Aleister Crowley's Illustrated Goetia Sexual Evocation The Key of Solomon the King

Lucian Stephenson's Goetia (and other!) art can be found at @misterlucian and here.

I will probably do individual videos on most of these books at some point. Let me know if there's anything in particular you want to see!

[crowleybigbang]

Hello, servants of Hell and affectionate Crowley's minions!

We're finally ready to post and share with you all the impressive fanfics and fan art created by our participants for the 2022 Crowley Big Bang! We’re thrilled with the narrative range of fics and diversity of art styles produced for this round of the bang! Be sure to follow this blog to see all the awesome Crowley-centric fanworks any demon’s black little heart could desire.

2022 Crowley Big Bang Fanworks & Posting Dates

Let’s get this Hell-themed party started!

@additionaladdams @sinister--potato @hectatess @wigglebox @pimentogirl @samatedeansbroccoli @dmsilvisart  @hobbitual-psychick-art-stuff @reblogging4thewin @ncdover1285 @vibe-howie @ichbinnurzugast​ @angelhannah​ @rauko-is-a-free-elf @writingfromkitchenator​ @fruitmixtape​ @sirlsplayland @walkingaline​ @demonologist-in-denim ​ @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell @jenniferb-art ​

[hobbitual-psychick-art-stuff]

Christmas Crowley inspired by the fic by @demonologist-in-denim A (Very Supernatural) Christmas Carol

Pop over and give the author some love

https://archiveofourown.org/works/35672374/chapters/88942957

[demonologist-in-denim]

My first Hunter!Crowley moodboard was way better, but since I made it, I’m posting it. For @thayerkerbasy​.