#sing it supernatural challenge

[kedsandtubesocks]

Born Again

Priest!Joel Miller x F!Demon Reader

summary: you want the handsome priest more than anything, he wants you gone…but what transpires between you & him is either a curse sent straight from hell (or a twisted blessing in disguise)

word count: 5.9k

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI. dark themes. no outbreak/modern AU, enemies to lovers, Catholicism themes & imagery, multiple character deaths & discussion of death, heavy priest kink, blasphemy & corruption kink, morally gray!Joel, morally gray!reader, unspecific age gap (Joel is in his 50’s & older than reader), biting & blood drinking, moments of violence, manhandling, blood imagery, unprotected p in v, oral (f & m), finger sucking, major yearning & angst, protective!Joel, use of gendered language, hint of bi!reader, one use of “good girl,” reader addresses Joel as “old man”

a/n: This is my entry for @pedgito SpringFever25 [cemetery + supernatural] please be aware of the warnings - this fic I know won’t be everyone’s cup of tea & I kindly ask if it isn’t please scroll away! Divider credit & thanks goes to the wonderful @saradika-graphics

St. Jude’s church is quaint, rather simple. A coziness inside reflects its small Texas community that sits on the outskirts of Travis County. Beautiful stained glass windows line the walls illuminating the space.

The opening hymnal starts, and you sing the songs like you care. Then your eyes are drawn forward as your prey arrives.

The priest moves around the altar, readying himself for the mass. The cream and purple ecclesiastical robes paint him a holy shepherd of his flock.

“In the name of the Father, the Son, and of the Holy Spirit…” He makes the sign of the cross deep with an accented twang, and your lips twitch.

You never would’ve expected such a rich southern voice to leave a pastor. Then again, this man doesn’t seem like an ordinary priest.

Father Joel Miller is rugged, reminding you more of an outlaw wearing a costume. The stern look on his handsome face seals a gruff nature to him. Yet you’ve seen his soft heart when the congregation flocks to him after mass finishes.

Many in the church lust after him. You can sense it. Even if it wasn’t in your nature, it’s hard to miss the multiple women during the service batting their eyes and wearing rather revealing tops that would make a nun faint.

You aren’t the only one who wants this man. But, maybe you might be the only one who wants to devour this man’s soul.

As a demon of lust, you’ve always wondered what it would taste like to indulge with a man of the cloth.

And Joel is your perfect target.

This priest has been challenging. Unlike other humans, you haven’t been able to read his desires.

You wandered into this town a few months ago and settled in effortlessly. This church called to you like a siren’s song. The amount of carnal desire seeping out begged for you to feast, made your mouth water. Then you saw the reason why.

Currently Father Joel focuses on preparing the eucharist, his brow heavily furrowed and meditative in prayer.

Distinguished in his age, scruffy beard, strong nose, gorgeous eyes - it’s unbearable witnessing a man like him waste under the holy robes. A bitter taste fills your mouth just thinking about it.

After the service, the church opens their food drive pantry for the weekly breakfast to serve those in the community who need a meal.

It’s your first time joining.

Originally, you had planned to lurk, slowly get accustomed to being around holy ground until finally working up the strength to pounce.

But of course, being a new face in a small church, you were singled out immediately.

You shared a fake sob story about how you were searching for God. Multiple parishioners immediately took you under their wing, even dragged you to bible study. Unfortunately they’ve now roped you into helping out with the event today. But, you view it as a step closer to your handsome goal.

Except the hot priest doesn’t give you a second glance.

You try everything to be in his eyesight, purposefully being extra disgustingly holy and helping out.

Even one of the deacons compliments you.

“A young woman such as yourself taking the time on a Sunday to do this? You’re a fine example.” Deacon Matthews beams at you proudly.

Yet Father Joel ignores you, not once acknowledging your presence.

It pisses you off. Annoyed, you’re sent back to the pantry at the rectory building to put away the plates. In the quiet storage room, heavy footsteps approach behind.

You turn around -

Whatever words you want to say die in your throat.

Father Joel stands in the doorway, staring furious. This is it, your chance. An unbearable excitement bubbles in you.

“Oh, Father! I’ve been meaning to-”

Your words get cut off immediately when the priest raises up a small crucifix, clutching it painfully tight in his grasp. He remains silent.

“Wait, what’s wrong?” You’re slightly confused and glad it leaks into your voice.

“I know what ya are…” his voice rumbles low and deadly.

“God damned creature of sin, I cast you out.” He spits the words seeping with venom.

A sharp pain strikes straight into your chest as if a lightning bolt just struck you. Your eyes sting. A distorted screeching noise, an internal alarm, roars in your ears while an animalistic panic claws across your skin.

You recognize this feeling.

Once after you had slept with a nun and devoured her soul, her hellbent convent quickly found you. The head mother superior, instead of a cross, raised a rosary at you. She spoke similar words to what this priest just said, invoking the same reaction you feel now.

Everything clicks.

You bark a laugh, shaking the sensation away, and look the priest dead in the eye.

“So…You’re an exorcist, huh?” You grin surprised, borderline gleeful.

This is going to be fun.

—

You show up to mass next Sunday, walking prouder than ever entering St. Jude’s church.

Joel murderously glares at you any chance he can. You get tempted to blow a mocking kiss at him during communion.

After mass, you even stay to wish him well. The priest keeps silent, doesn’t even shake your hand. Just nods politely knowing others are around watching.

“Oh what did you do to make Father Joel look at you like that?” One of the sweet grandmothers from bible study jests with you.

“Wait, I thought he always looked like that?” You joke back. The older woman laughs, swatting your arm.

“He’s quite grumpy at first.” She nods. “But after what he went through, I don’t blame him.”

That peaks your interest instantly.

You want to ask more, see what gossip she could spill. But the woman leaves too soon with her husband, and you’re left more curious than ever.

You’re about to leave and slink back into the shadows. Until a hard hand yanks at your arm, stopping you.

Stunned, you find Joel frowning with pure malice.

His touch sparks an immediate reaction. An electric chill runs up your spin. As strong as you are, you can admit, this man must be incredibly formidable to hold such blessed power. He could burn you alive.

“If you’re going to grab me this hard, at least take me to dinner first.” You scoff.

He doesn’t say anything but drags you to a secluded area alongside the shadow of the church. He’s alarmingly strong.

“How the fuck are ya even here?” The priest snarls.

The guy knows his stuff. Normally your kind doesn't last long around churches, especially when a mass is happening.

But you’re strong too. And the sins festering in this house of worship keep you strong, tarnishing the holy ground’s sanctity.

“Maybe you need to recommend more confessions, father. Your flock isn’t as holy as you think they are.” You sneer amused, yanking your arm away from his grip.

He’s closer than ever, and a caged desire rattles to pounce. It begs, aches, for you to consume him and feast.

Soon voices approach, and you slide out from his grasp.

“See you next week.” You wave, happily slipping into the shadows.

Keeping your promise, you arrive at the church the following week. Except this time you’re here for bible study. Of course you play along, the perfect curious believer wanting to learn. But you’re honestly here for the gossip.

“So what’s the deal with Father Joel?” You ask when the pastries are brought out.

Two of the women glance at each other sharing knowing looks.

“We forgot… you’re still new here and don’t know.” One of them mutters quietly.

Apparently, the priest was married before. Not only that, he had a young daughter.

Honestly you’re not entirely shocked. He’s gorgeous. Good for him for enjoying the fun before he decided to become boring and holy.

“But the three of them were in a horrible car accident, and both his wife and daughter perished.”

You don’t have a heart as a demon. But the echoes of sorrow, emotions you understood when you were human, flutter awakened.

“That’s… awful.” You mumble.

“Isn’t it?” The other woman nods sorrowful.

He apparently begged God for mercy the day his family died.

“And after that, he took on the path of a priest.” The other woman finishes bright like this is a happy ending of the story.

You feel upset for Joel now, for his family, getting diminished as a way to remind people of God’s grace.

“Thanks to God.” You say robotically. The words taste awful, and you hate them.

When bible study ends, the sun slowly starts to sink over the horizon. Saint Jude’s is not just a simple church, but an older one. There’s even a cemetery right beside it.

You walk along the graveyard’s edge cautious not to fully step inside.

Further inside among the headstones, the priest sits on a bench beside a tree, looking down at the ground with rosary beads in hand.

Now more than ever Joel looks like a man, beautiful and human, not a holy warrior of God.

He must sense you. Immediately his eyes snap up, and pure rage twists his face.

“What are y’still doin’ here?” Joel snaps low.

“Had bible study.” You shrug.

Daring to be bold, you take one step into the cemetery.

Being in here among the dead is more dangerous even compared to the church. So you remain close to the entrance.

“Y’know I can exorcise your ass right here and now.” He growls, and it sounds beautiful.

“You’re forgetting where we are, old man.” That nickname slips from you effortlessly.

His mouth falls. Eyes, dark as the graveyard dirt, fill with trepidation. It’s a strange reaction that paints him small, almost lost and begging for something.

But you simply shrug it off, kicking a bit of dirt towards him.

A cemetery is the one true neutral place where both demon and saint can walk alongside each other. Neither you or the priest have any power here. In theory, you’re as weak as a mortal. But so is he.

“What the fuck do ya want?” Joel says exhausted with an anger brewing below his voice.

“Demons want everything, that’s a silly question.” You reply.

His earthen eyes narrow, pinning you right where you stand among the dead.

“But what do you want?” He emphasizes his words sounding delicious this calm and deadly.

“Maybe I just want you.” Your answer, earnest and casual, rings borderline soft.

Exiting the cemetery, you wave goodbye to him.

“Until next time, Father.”

A new plan of action hatches.

Being a lust demon you indeed hold the ability to sense the carnal wishes of others. But it also means you can draw out and read what a person’s desires are, erotic or not.

And you want to know why Joel desired to become a priest.

Sometimes you can catch hints of a person’s desires from those they’re close with. So since your abilities, for whatever reason, don’t work on the handsome priest, your next option is Deacon Matthews.

He’s a boring man. Has two kids about to head off to college and a wife he doesn’t know is secretly having an affair. He’s been earnestly trying to talk with you more, and you swear you catch a whiff of lust floating off him.

So you sign up for another church event. This time it’s a rummage sale. You gladly offer to help at the stall Deacon Matthews works.

You catch the look on Joel’s face when he spots you. How disgusted he scowls almost makes you laugh.

“He seems extra grumpy today doesn’t he?” Deacon Matthews notices it too, and you playfully snicker alongside him.

“What happened to Father Joel embracing the heavenly gift of joy?” You joke.

The deacon sighs. “Well, after the trials he’s been through, I understand how hard it can be for him to find grace sometimes.”

Shifting in your plastic seat, you give your full attention to the deacon. Now you sense it, the heated sensation of a man feeling eager being the center of attention.

Deacon Matthew leans closer and of course tells you the same story you already know.

So you decide to act now. You touch Deacon Matthew’s arm expressing your sympathy, but it allows your power to slowly trickle in and search.

You find a glimmer of Joel in the deacon’s memory, but a terrible sensation crashes in.

Anguish and hurt, a frozen grief ripping fierce…

The holy mantle weighs a burden for Joel.

This man swore the vows, took on the blessed robes, as atonement for letting his family die. He wants to punish himself for not saving them, believing he doesn’t deserve to indulge in this world.

Pious, prudence, all punishment.

And by exorcising demons as God’s warrior, he gets to ignore his own.

You didn’t expect this much guilt, and heaven splitting heartbreak.

It makes your lips quiver, and you can’t explain why.

Immediately your hand draws back from Deacon Matthew. His eyes have hazed over, borderline lewd, and you subtly shift away.

“I’m sorry Deacon, can you maybe get me some water?” You ask politely, faking exhaustion.

“Of course, you’ve done so much today. Sit and rest.” He agrees, eagerly scrambling out of his seat.

You exhale, closing your eyes and trying to relax in the uncomfortable plastic seat.

“What? Can’t have me so you’re going after him?” Joel’s voice cuts through sharp, and your eyes snap open.

Standing hands crossed over his chest, he wears his typical glare.

He’s in a simple black button up with the white priestly collar gleaming through. This attire shows off his built arms, his strong physical form. The afternoon light also highlights the glorious grays in his beard and hair.

He’s older, beautifully older - you know this. But it feels as if you’re finally letting it sink, like fully understanding why an art piece is stunning.

You don’t say anything, simply stare at this man who’s slowly been eating away at you.

Deacon Matthews thankfully arrives just in time. Batting your eyes, you exaggerate your thanks. The deacon blushes, and before he can even greet Joel the priest storms off.

You don’t even have the heart to go after him or even make a joke.

—

In the bible, the book of Joel tells a somber tale. Scripture depicts the prophet Joel, in the midst of a dooming plague of locusts, urges the people to repent.

You think it’s almost ironic, a sick goddamn joke, that this man is named after such a biblical figure.

Because Joel Miller has become a plague upon you.

Your thoughts are only of him. You stay at the church more just to see him.

You haven’t feasted or eaten in weeks. Your body feels exhaustedly sluggish, more human, but you don’t even mind.

A new hunger ripens in you now anyways.

At night, your fingers constantly dig deep into your pussy thinking of Joel’s firm hands all over you, strong and dangerous, burning your skin. Demon of desire or not, this craving is unbearable. Your mouth dries parched at the thought of tasting him.

More, something dark in your whispers. You want him more…

After mass, a choir member tells you Father Joel wants you to meet him in his office. This could be the most twisted trap, but you realize you won’t be mad if it is.

“Come in.” Joel’s gruff voice comes muffled through the office door.

A strange nervous energy bubbles in you. Entering the office, you feel younger than ever, faintly human.

The beige room stands desolate, spartan and bare, except for a picture of the Divine Mercy on the wall. At his desk, Joel scribbles away at paperwork.

Closing the door behind you, his eyes flicker up.

“Didn’t expect you to exorcise me in the middle of the day and with your poor cute secretary right outside. You’re getting bold, old man.” You snicker.

The priest dully glares.

“So, care to tell me why I’m here?” You ask, sliding into the seat across the desk from him.

He remains silent.

A prolonged pause follows.

“You know… this office feels very naughty professor and student vibes more than hot priest and demon-”

“Enough.” His snarl cuts you off.

He seems more on edge like he’s teetering.

An apocalyptic tension suffocates the room fast, a choking incense that stings your lungs.

Joel suddenly leans back in his chair rubbing a large calloused hand over his face.

“Do you remember… anything from when you were human?” His voice has never been so quiet.

It’s strange hearing this powerful force of a man sound this meek.

“Uh…Sorry I don’t have memories of my old life.” You tell him truthfully.

The only memory you hold of your human days is when you sold your soul. There was pain, absolute wrecking grief that was swallowing you whole. You remember wanting to save the people you love, wishing you could trade your life to keep them alive.

That’s when the quietest voice had asked among the despair - what would you trade, to save those you love?

Anything, you had sobbed out.

Then, the pain drifted away. You woke up brand new and hungry, a clean slate. Now the heartbreak that crystalized you to this new life collects cobwebs in your lost soul.

“You remember nothin’ at all?” Joel presses again, and you shake your head no.

An ancient sigh escapes him, weary and anchored by the test of time. Something in you begs to comfort him.

“You seem tired.” You comment soft.

His endless eyes find yours.

Silence settles thick in the quaint and hauntingly barren office.

There’s so much you want to say. A demonic being of craving, of want, cursed to be silent, how cruel.

You want to ask what plague has he placed upon you. Is this a new form of exorcism? What evil has he unleashed? Because you’ve never wanted someone as badly as you want him.

A knock on the door shatters the stillness.

Joel’s secretary pops her head in.

“Sorry to interrupt Father, but the archdiocese is on the phone.” She’s smug. You sensed her desire before, a powerful drunken feeling knowing she gets to order Joel around.

“Alright,” he nods, and the secretary closes the door. You don’t miss the side eye she gives you.

You take your cue and stand up to leave.

“Hey…” his voice stops you.

“Demons… they have true names. What’s yours?”

That question surprises you.

Of course you’ve been using a fake name this entire time. He must have figured that out. Smart man.

But if he knows your true name, your human name…it’s over. A demon’s true name gives an exorcist the power to permanently destroy them.

A wide knowing grin pulls at your lips.

“You still haven’t even taken me to dinner, Father.”

The smallest wave of emotion flashes across his face. A tug pulls his lips, a hint of a smile he’s fighting against.

You’re about to leave when you stop.

“Oh…Also that secretary of yours definitely wants to dom you. Don't ask me how I know.” You mention casually.

You smirk walking out of Joel’s office, especially hearing his indignant squawks as you close the door.

—

The wind blows gently, barely rustling the leaves to let the dead rest peacefully for now.

A storm approaches. Serious enough that the annual Easter festival is now in question of being canceled today.

In his simple black button up and white collar, Joel stands like an ink blot against the graveyard. You’ve noticed he always stays by this particular tree with the bench.

“I know you’re here.” Joel’s gruff sharp twanged voice pierces through the silence. His face stays focused on the gravestones, holding a rosary tight in his large hands.

You smirk and step out from the shadow of the angel statue you've been hiding behind.

This is the deepest you’ve gone into the cemetery.

“Your senses are getting better, old man.” You greet him.

He scoffs insulted.

“You know… you really are too hot to be a priest.” You’ve made the joke to him before, and you make it again.

“Pressin’ your damn luck…Remind me why I haven’t fuckin’ exorcised your ass yet?” Joel mutters rubbing his temples.

“Because I’m just too fun to get rid of?” You offer with a weak grin.

An unsettling silence grows in the cemetery.

“Or maybe…you really are here just to torment me.” The words come out mumbled, like Joel doesn’t realize he spoke them.

“I could say the same for you, priest.” You openly tell him.

Finally he turns to you.

A strange corroded weight fills your chest. You realize it’s the desire now calcified into your very being keeping you anchored to this man. You wonder if this is your eternal punishment, to crave a man you can never have.

“Tell me… What’s your real name?” Joel asks simply, no hidden motive.

Here in the graveyard, he’s just a human man. Just like you’re the whisper of a human standing before him.

A painful smile tugs at your lips.

You give him your true name, the only thing left of your humanity.

Pure dread falls over Joel’s face.

Then he snaps.

“Ya damned fuckin’ demon from hell… Get the fuck outta here!” He yells, angry and violent, like a vengeful God ripping open the sky.

Demon.

He’s never called you that. It stings more than you thought it would.

But he’s right. It’s what you are, a creature warped from a human soul now relying only on sin. Demons don’t dream. Nor do they cry. But the way your chest twists, you wonder if this is the closest it feels to crying again.

Not saying another word to Joel, you leave the cemetery.

You don’t even know why you stayed to help with the festival. You adamantly refuse to look at Joel. Everyone notices the change in your demeanor. You lie saying it’s the weather.

“Ugh, it really is quite dreary for such a holy day, huh?” The sweet elderly woman from your bible study group coo’s sympathetically. She urges you to rest in the rectory.

“No one will bother you there honey, take some time to just catch a breather.”

You take her advice, especially as the thunder rolls ominous like the heavens stand ready to strike you at any moment.

The rectory is eerily quiet. You wander around until of course find yourself at Joel’s office. You can’t take this ache raging in you anymore. Once the festival fully starts, you decide to leave in the shadows and never return.

The front door out in the main hallway opens. Spurred by a strange sense of hope, you rush out.

You’re not one for prayer, but you pray it’s Joel.

Deacon Matthews, in his boring salmon colored shirt, instead stares at you. Danger gleams in his eyes.

“Finally…I was hoping to get you alone.” His voice boils with desire, radiating from him a rancid stench.

“You’ve felt it too haven’t you? What we have between us?” He grins, a serpent slithering closer to you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” You play dumb and confused.

“You've been flirting with me this entire time. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” His voice jumps more erratic.

His desire is brewing to a poisonous level that threatens to clog your throat. So you try walking towards the door, but he stands firmly blocking it.

You haven’t eaten in months. Any time you consider feasting, your stomach now turns sour as you only think of Joel. He really has ruined you in so many ways.

With your senses dimmed, you’re too late to react when a greedy hand grabs your shoulders and pulls you closer.

Panic erupts. Feeling like a cornered animal, your teeth sharpen. Your hands twitch, itching for the attack. But your mouth acts first.

You bite down hard on the deacon’s hand, and a violent scream rips from him.

You haven’t tasted blood in months. This bite, you thought, should have sent you into a frenzy. Instead you gag tasting this pathetic man’s blood.

“What the fuck are you?!” The deacon yells in terror.

You realize you must look quite the monster now.

So you decide to show him.

Hellish claws, your claws, yank this man’s face closer. Then you whisper into his ear the tongue of the damned -

“…ⱤØ₮ ł₦ ⱧɆⱠⱠ…”

The deacon screams horrified.

Someone yanks you away.

Then Joel’s fist collides with the man’s face.

At the impact, Deacon Matthew’s cries in agony while Joel holds you close to his side. The smell of his shampoo, his cologne and something so familiar, surrounds you in a heavenly cloud.

“Don’t fuckin’ touch her.” Joel snarls deadly.

Blood spills across the deacon’s face and his hand while he sobs.

Joel holds you protective, hand cradling and covering your face. Slowly you revert to normal, the demonic retreating to hide.

No surprise, the commotion is heard.

People swarm in. Joel effortlessly explains what transpired and how you even used self defense against the deacon.

The bleeding terrified man however screams that you’re the monster here.

You stay quiet against Joel's side, keeping your face hidden, clinging to his black button up shirt. The church reacts ready to reprimand Matthews.

Everything goes hazy. Your head even aches painful, like something is trying to break through your skull.

“If y’all don’t mind, I’m gonna stay with her.” You hear Joel say.

Of course everyone strongly agrees. A few even offer to stay with you instead. But Joel keeps you in his hold.

In a blink, a door closes and you realize you’re in his office.

Then Joel’s hand slides up to your cheek. The simmering heat from his skin touching yours burns beautifully.

Even without the claws, or monstrous eyes, you still must look every bit a terrifying creature.

Then, with a white small handkerchief, he wipes away the blood on your face tenderly, cleaning you with the delicate care of someone who is precious.

“Y’got a good bite. Scared the shit outta him too.” Joel mutters, faintly joking, but you catch a hint of pride.

You stay quiet now.

“Hey, look at me.” Joel orders low, but concerned.

And you do. His eyes search yours.

He’s never been this close. You soak in the sight of him, a sharp gorgeous hawkish nose, aged wrinkles, soft touches of storm cloud greys floating among his chocolate curls. Heaven never looked more beautiful.

No words reach you. You can’t think of anything to say.

You don’t know who moves first, but a revelation comes when your lips surge to meet his.

It’s raw, consuming, rattling your bones.

You barely get to chase this greed, the taste of this man, before a searing pain cracks open your skull.

Your vision goes white. You don’t even know where you are.

Glimpses of home warm and welcoming, with a loving man and a wonderful daughter you’ve raised like your own, fill your mind.

Soon, the picture crystalizes clearer. The man driving, holding your hand. The young girl in the backseat laughing at something you said.

Then your world ends in fire.

The truth resurfaces you frantic and panicked, like emerging from the flood of ancient times. Blinking back into reality, everything is clear, pure as crystal.

Someone calls your name, and it sounds like home.

“Y’alright? Talk to me darlin’ please.” Joel begs frantically, still holding your face.

Darling, the word rips through you wild.

“Joel.” His name leaves you blessed and sanctified. You see him with eyes brand new.

The closest thing to a sob escapes you.

Confusion colors Joel’s face while you clutch onto him like a life raft.

You swallow hard.

“My old man… my husband.” You whisper.

You jokingly, affectionately, had started calling him ‘old man’ when he pulled his back after a job. Tommy and Sarah had laughed so hard at the nickname. Back then he was a few years older than you, but now…

Joel cracks. His face falls. Tears simmer in his eyes threatening to spill.

He kisses you again. This time it’s filled with an ache that draws you back from the grave.

The kiss grows heated fast. Desire explodes off Joel now and you want to drown in it. He licks into your mouth, pushing you against the door. You moan, sliding your hands into his hair.

Commotion returns outside interrupting the moment.

You growl annoyed.

Joel shushes you against your lips, yet his hands continue holding you tight.

Eventually you untangle out of his arms. Yet you feel like a newborn foal on shaky legs. Joel keeps you close the rest of the day. No one from the church thinks anything of it especially after what happened.

If only they saw you now.

Sprawled out in his bed, Joel devours your pussy and grinds into the sheets. You moan loud enough for all the angels to hear. He eats you starved, as if he’s found divine communion between your thighs.

“Need you inside, Joel please,” you beg, yanking at his grey curls.

Who is he to deny you, not just a demon of sin, but his wife?

Sliding into you, Joel feels like the beginning of the world, a Genesis life changing. It’s a lust that makes you melt, pure and dangerously addictive.

Joel’s lips stay attached to your skin, biting and licking every inch of you.

“Fallen Angel, light of God, you are crafted in beauty and loved.”

You remember that’s the prayer the nuns said. Now Joel whispers it reverently against your skin.

“Lost creature of heaven, you are found.”

You cum hard clutching at his shoulders. You worry about hurting him. Yet Joel bites at your skin like he’s the one now longing for your blood. You wonder if you and him could both dig into each other’s bones.

But once the passion finally simmers, and your poor husband needs to rest, the heavy reality sets in.

Naked in his arms, you know understand the strange passion and awareness Eve must have felt being in her husband’s arms after biting the forbidden fruit.

“You really sold your soul…” Joel mutters.

You sigh, rubbing your face into his warm strong chest.

“I didn’t care… I begged for anyone to save you or Sarah.” You whisper.

Your sweet sunshine girl.

Even without a heart, thinking of Sarah brings immeasurable pain. You mourn her with Joel, his arms becoming your sacred church.

—

“Sweetheart, ya need to eat,” Of course Joel notices how weary you’ve become.

“It’s okay… I’m fine.” And you’re half right. The desire unleashed between you and Joel helps maintain you enough. You wouldn’t dare devour his soul now. After all, there are other things you gladly want to consume from him.

You kiss the palm of his hand holding your face.

But ever the provider, ever the caretaker, your husband moves his hand down to your lips. His fingers trace your mouth. His eyes darken, and your body hums wanting him again.

“Bite me.” He mutters.

You bluntly tell him no.

“Do it or I’ll exorcise your ass.” His words hold no threat.

“Come on baby,” he adds, a soft purr, your personal temptation.

You’re worried. Worried if you bite you won’t be able to stop. You don’t want to hurt him.

Joel’s hand returns to cradle your face, stroking your cheek tenderly. He whispers your name.

“You won’t hurt me.” He’s always been able to read your mind.

It’s why he draws your face to his neck, the perfect spot to hide beneath his robes. Reverently you kiss his skin thanking him, then your teeth sink in as gently as you can.

His blood rushes into your mouth tasting of salvation. Your mind shuts off, instantly consumed by him. You lick and suck, pouring your devotion into this man. You moan or maybe it’s Joel. Because the way his hips grind seeking release, he’s drunk on this too.

This is the ecstasy saints dream of, a holy feast of unbelievable bliss that has you coming untouched.

This is your sacred sacrament you would die for.

—

“My husband, the priest.” You snicker watching him get ready.

You hate how incredibly sexy it is watching him slide the white collar on.

“Well, my wife’s a demon.” He smirks.

“I think there’s an actual shirt that says that.” You wonder.

Joel rolls his eyes and you laugh.

Kissing him before he heads to mass is pure sinful bliss. It only gets worse when you visit his office. Closing the door, Joel sits at his desk raising an eyebrow seeing you.

You make it known why you’re here when you sink onto your knees between his legs.

Nuzzling against his thigh, a possession overtakes. Joel’s hand runs to your face.

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.” You mutter peering up at him.

His thumb swipes across your lips, and his eyes melt into dark pools. Especially when you slide his thumb into your mouth and suck, moaning at the taste of his skin. Your teeth ache to bite him, taste him like you did again this morning.

“Y’look like fuckin’ sin.” He mumbles, but rapidly draws your face up closer to him.

“Gonna be my good girl and keep quiet?” He asks leaning down to kiss you, meeting you halfway. Nodding, your hands fly to his belt.

A knock on the door comes. Joel cusses sharp under his breath.

“Should let your secretary walk in and see us like this.” You grin.

He shushes you.

“Next time let’s try to fuck in a confessional.” You mutter against his lips.

“Little fuckin’ trouble maker.” He growls, a beast that you welcome with open arms.

Later, in the witching hours, you wander around Joel’s living room. You spot a photo of you, him, and Sarah at Halloween the one year she dressed up as a power ranger princess.

Warm strong arms suddenly wrap around you from behind.

Joel’s gorgeous nose nuzzles against your face.

“You don’t mind… that I’m like this and not like how I used to be.” A shadow frozen forever, a creature condemned to hell.

He places the softest kiss on your cheek.

“Ain’t who I used to be either. M’old now.” He mutters.

“You’re hotter than ever.” You tell him firmly, and Joel snorts amused.

Shifting in his arms you embrace Joel tight.

“I’m a selfish demon now. You’re the only one who can get rid of me.” Both figuratively and literally.

“Like hell I ain’t.” Joel replies firmly, inhaling your scent.

“Besides, ‘m not so holy anymore.” He adds.

“Are you okay with that?” The question escapes you quiet, small and worried.

“Wouldn’t fuckin’ change it.” It’s the last thing he says before he dives in to kiss you.

Maybe in another life you would’ve been blessed to be Joel’s wife, pure and human, would’ve grown old with him…maybe even adopted a cat like Sarah had been begging.

Heaven will never greet you. So you hold this version of it tight in your hands.

You used to wonder why you had wandered to this specific town. Now everything aligns. A piece of you was trying to return to your other half, the love of your life.

Walking into the cemetery, you find your husband again praying at his favorite spot.

That’s when you finally notice a small memorial plague against the tree. Walking towards it, you read what’s on it.

There’s a scripture verse…then Sarah’s name and yours below it.

An emotion too powerful to describe swells in you.

Done with his prayer and alone in the cemetery, Joel soothingly now rubs his hand against your back.

“Let’s head home, sweetheart.” He mutters, your home and salvation.

A particular line from the exorcism rites suddenly comes to mind -

Lost creature of heaven, you are found

As you head out of the graveyard by Joel’s side, you truly believe you are.

[wendichester]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 self-care and sasquatch,

summary. skincare time with sam is something else.

pairing. sam winchester x reader

wordcount. 411

“You’re pouting.”

“I’m not pouting,” Sam grumbles, arms crossed over his chest. He’s sitting stiffly on the edge of the motel bed, towering and uncomfortable, like he’d rather be getting tossed around by a wendigo than be here right now.

“You totally are.” You grin, dipping your fingers back into the face mask jar. “You look like a sad golden retriever.”

Sam lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Remind me why I agreed to this?”

“Because I batted my eyelashes and said ‘please,’” you tease, scooping more of the cooling clay onto your fingers.

He gives you an unimpressed look. “That shouldn’t have worked.”

“And yet,” you sing, stepping closer.

Sam huffs but doesn’t move as you reach up and smooth the face mask over his skin, dragging your fingers carefully along the angles of his jaw, the planes of his cheeks. His skin is warm beneath your touch, stubble prickling under the slick clay.

You have to bite back a smile.

For someone who’s been stitched up and bled on more times than he can count, Sam is suspiciously bad at staying still for this. His nose twitches when you get too close, his brows scrunch when the clay starts drying.

It’s adorable.

“You know,” you muse, brushing a bit more onto the bridge of his nose, “your skin is actually pretty nice. I was expecting a lot worse.”

Sam scoffs. “Gee, thanks.”

“I mean it! You barely have any breakouts, and your pores are—” You pause, squinting. “Okay, yeah, they could use some work.”

Sam groans. “Why do I feel personally attacked?”

“You’re not. You’re just... skincare challenged.”

Sam rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue, which is probably the closest you’ll get to him admitting you’re right.

Once his mask is evened out, you step back to admire your handiwork. Sam Winchester, hunter of the supernatural, stoic man of the apocalypse... sitting there with a thick layer of pale green clay on his face.

You press your lips together, trying to contain your laughter.

Sam glares. “Don’t.”

“I’m not—” You snort. “I’m not laughing.”

“Yes, you are.”

You make a dramatic show of clearing your throat. “Nope. Completely serious. This is a very mature bonding experience.”

He shakes his head, exasperated, but there’s a reluctant smirk tugging at his lips.

“Alright, now we wait fifteen minutes,” you say, plopping onto the bed beside him. “And then we moisturize.”

Sam freezes. “Wait. Moisturize?”

You grin. “Oh, baby. We’re just getting started.”

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

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[theveryworstthing]

the last but not least of the june patreon prompts, SpaceDancer asked for a transmasc lawyer humanoid earwig and this is pretty much what it says on the tin.

"Have you been in a car wreck? Do you need out of an unfair, and frankly, impossible to survive contract with your "good neighbors"? Are you pretty sure you had a child but the memories of them and only them have been fading by the day ever since your birthmark reshaped itself into the outline of a cowbird? Do you want to sing the blues AND keep your soul? Well now you can rest easy, because your new fairy lawfather is on the case! The Golden Courts may call me a traitorous scourge who only escapes my deserved destruction through infuriating technicalities, but you can call me Eloh Pool, attorney at cross-veil law.

Lawful Good not doin' it for ya? Time to try the Lawful Best.™"

this is Eloh and he is an absolute menace. he was born in a less than savory part of the veil that's really big on deals and contracts, but instead of using his powers to settle down at a nice crossroads or wander around glamored to the gills looking for marks, he decided that loophole hunting was way more fun. there's just something about taking apart a deal with the devil that gives him a rush hustling mortals can't provide. also he gets paid. Like, Paid paid. clients usually pay with one small act or item that goes towards solving one of his other cases (much easier to source dealbreakers that way) but his opponents pay up big when they lose (mostly because none of them think they'll lose as the majority of them are gambling addicts used to rigging the game).

he's always on the lookout for a challenge and these deal makers love to brag, so if you entered some kind of supernatural deal and his card spontaneously shows up in your mailbox before it even goes into effect then you fucked up.

[pepelepieuu]

"Not like my parents" Legacy Challenge

A fun sims challenge for those that want to play around with different packs and also have sims babies that grow up "not like my parents".

Basic Rules:

Try to use minimal cheats

You can live anywhere unless otherwise specified

Generation one: Gothic

Think a vibe like the Addams family - A sim that is gothic and is obsessed with everything to do with death and the supernatural. This sim also has a passion for music and collects tarot cards in their spare time.

Traits: gloomy, music lover, macabre

Aspiration: occult aspiration of your choosing OR ghost historian

Career: Undertaker Career or the Reaper Profession

Fave colour: black

Rules:

Master undertaker career or Reaper Profession 

Complete occult aspiration or ghost historian 

Befriend Death (Grim Reaper)

Master a musical instrument and the thanatology skill

Collect all tarot cards

Visit The Other Side of the Veil (turn into a ghost at least once)

_____________________________________________________

Generation two: Modern Skeptic 

You grew up hating your unconventional family and leave your hometown for a different way of life. You’re a skeptic that doesn’t buy into ghosts, the Grim Reaper, or that another world exists beyond. You like facts, science, modern technology, and the REAL WORLD. You’re awkward at love and don’t settle down till later in life, focusing on your career before this. 

Traits: skeptic, genius, romantically reserved

Aspiration: Academic 

Career: Scientist

Fave colour: blue

Rules:

Master Scientist career

Complete academic aspiration

Master logic skill and gaming skill

Do not get married before you’re an adult, partner must work full-time too

Have only one child

Live in different world to one you were raised in 

—————————————————

Generation three: Conservative Country

You grew up a lonely child, your parents were always working and you had no siblings. Your biggest wish is to have a big family. You also found your parents too obsessed with technology and science, and decide to reject it all and become ultra-conservative.

You love the country and live off the land.

Traits: proper, rancher, family oriented

Aspiration: big happy family

Career: make all your money from farming

Fave colour: yellow

Rules:

Have a minimum of 10 kids

Complete big happy family aspiration

Master gardening and parenting skills

Only make money from your farm

Dress conservatively

Reject all electronics

_______________________________________________________

Generation four: Wild Child

You found your parents too restrictive and family waaaay too big. All you want is to have fun, be modern, and listen to music from a stereo. You���re the life of the party, you love dancing and going to karaoke. As a teen you’re rebellious. You don’t believe in monogamy and enjoy dating around.

Traits: party animal, outgoing, romantic

Aspiration: live fast as a teen, party animal as an adult

Career: social media

Fave colour: purple

Rules:

Have max two children

Master dancing, singing, and charisma skills

Master social media career

As a young adult live in an apartment

Date more than 3 people 

Master live fast aspiration as a teen, and party animal as an adult

___________________________________________________

Generation five: Looking for Peace

You found your mother was distant and self-absorbed. She was always going to parties or hosting parties. You just want to have peace and quiet. Be alone and enjoy nature. You also found animals understood you better. 

Traits: vegetarian, loves outdoors, animal enthusiast

Aspiration: country caretaker or freelance botanist

Career: conservationist

Fave colour: green

Rules:

Master conservationist career

Master gardening and flower arranging skill

Master country caretaker or freelance botanist aspiration

Live near nature and only go on camping holidays

Renounce inheritance, and live in basic house with basic clothes

____________________________________________________

Generation six: Materialistic 

You grew up poor, and camped a lot. You found your parents were crazy about nature, and there were always animals in your house. You dream of having money, nice things and being indoors with all its luxuries. You’re passionate about fashion and physical looks, as you grew up dressed always in the same thing.

Traits: materialistic, snob, neat or practice makes perfect

Aspiration: mansion baron or fabulously wealthy

Career: style influencer

Fave colour: gold

Rules:

Master style influencer career

Master mansion baron or fabulously wealthy aspiration

Master fitness skill

Have multiple outfit options

Marry a rich sim

Do not inherit any money

______________________________________________________

Generation seven: Flower Child

Your parents were way too materialistic and obsessed with money. You found it shallow (though you do keep your inheritance). You seek deep connection and a deeper meaning of life. You’re a bit of a hippie, and want to share your musings of life with the world.

Traits: freegan, creative, generous 

Aspiration: zen guru

Career: painter

Fave colour: rainbow

Rules:

Master zen guru aspiration

Master painter career

Master guitar and painting skills

Have permissive family dynamics with your kids

Live near the beach

Keep inheritance

______________________________________________________

Generation eight: Adrenaline Junkie

You found things were relaxing as a kid but you seek adventure! You’re an adrenaline junkie who couldn't keep still as a kid. You didn't want to stay inside meditating, and you value actions over words.

Traits: adventurous, active, self-assured

Aspiration: extreme sport enthusiast

Career: astronaut

Fave colour: orange

Rules:

Master extreme sport enthusiast aspiration

Master astronaut career

Master fitness and handiness skills

Visit Planet Sixam

———-----------------------------------------------------------

Generation nine: Overachiever

You really admired your parents and their zest for life. You want to live up to their expectations and are a bit of an overachiever. You want a “perfect nuclear family”, married with 2 kids who work just as hard as you. You let off steam through vlogging, and imagining how your parent travelled into space. You're a little bit awkward, but mean well.

Eventually, you become burnt out from trying so hard and become a professional vlogger in your adult life. 

Traits: overachiever, socially awkward, perfectionist

Aspiration: super parent

Career: doctor, then simfluencer or video game streamer

Fave colour: white

Rules:

Master super parent aspiration

Have two children

For most of life live in a classic suburban house

Doctor career until adulthood then change to simfluencer or video game streamer

Master painting and media production skills

________________________________________________________

Generation ten: Fabulously Famous

You’re the opposite of a geek. Your parents wanted you to follow in their footsteps but you never enjoyed maths or science. You never did well at school, all you enjoyed doing was performing. You're a charismatic sim who loves being the centre of attention. Your flirty nature means you love to date around. In your spare time you enjoy gourmet cooking.

Traits: romantic, self-absorbed, hot-headed

Aspiration: World-famous celebrity or musical genius

Career: actor or entertainer

Fave colour: red

Rules:

Master world-famous celebrity aspiration or musical genius aspiration

Master actor or entertainer career

Master acting (or instrument) and gourmet cooking skills

Move to Del Sol Valley

________________________________________________________

Generation 11: Full Circle

You felt your parents were out of touch with the world and their roots. You’re into family history and learn the first of your long line were sims obsessed with death. You enjoy visiting the family graves, respecting your ancestors, and writing about your family history. Though your ancestors were obsessed with death, you love love. You have so much love to give and want to share it with the world! 

Traits: love bug, cheerful, family-oriented

Aspiration: serial romantic aspiration

Career: romance consultant

Fave colour: pink

Rules:

Master romance consultant 

Master serial romantic aspiration

Visit the graves of your ancestors and interact with ancestors who are now ghosts

Max romance and writing skill

Choose one of the 11 generations to be reborn

[jollyhunter]

DEAN's wingman BEAU's darling SOLDIER BOY's therapist

❀ꗥ writer│dreamer│whimsical│old soul│70/80s rock│whiskey, tea and coffee│spring starburst eyes ❀ꗥ Requests are: CLOSED ❀ꗥ Inbox is: OPEN! Just ask or yap! ❀ꗥ Want to join my TAG LIST? Fill out this form!

𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊

© 2025 JOLLYHUNTER All rights reserved. I do not allow anyone to use my work or ideas without my explicit permission. This includes dividers and drawings done by me.

↓MASTERLIST↓ C.AI ↓ ABOUT ME↓

❀ꗥ NEED A MOMENT? Take a nap in the backseat of Baby while Dean and Sam are in the front seats; talking, listening to music and singing ♡ (The music will start around 8mins... with a little interactive surprise!)

𓍊𓋼 FANFICS MASTERLIST

[18+, MDNI!] SMUT 🌹 FLUFF 🌷 ANGST 🥀

❀ꗥ Headcanons

Dean Winchester / Beau Arlen / Soldier Boy

❀ How would BEAU, BEN and DEAN show up at your door? (and react to you fainting) 🌷

❀ꗥ Dean Winchester x fem!reader

❀ NEW! Soul Gems (Summer Snapshot Challenge -> Come and join!) ❀ NEW! Tap Once For . . . 🥀(🌷) ❀ NEW! Lucky Cat 🥀 ❀ Shower Reliever 🌷🌹 ❀ The Potato Summoning *1 - *2 (coming) [ b-day special / crack] ❀ Writer’s Curse 🌷 ❀ Daily Dean - Kinky Advent Calendar MASTERLIST Dean and you are in a longterm relationship and try spicing up your sex life throughout December ( Series │ 16 / 24 parts done ) Sunshine 🌹 Spell Book Lights Out 🌹 Tickle 🌹 Dirty UNO 🌹 Candlelight 🌷 Hex Play 🌹 Whip Stroke 🌹 Barbie World Temptation 🌹🌷 My entire World 🌷 Freaky Friday 🌹 Shroom Cookies 🌷 Roll Over Rule 🌹 Yoga, Kama Sutra - potato, potahto 🌹🌷 Our Baby 🌷 ❀ Dean's Birthday Prompt-Game 🌷🥀 ❀ Thanksgiving Part 1 - Part 2 🌷 ❀ Morning Petting 🌹🌷

❀ꗥ The Bad Wolf & The Sweet Vixen

[Squad Leader Dean x fem!reader│Supernatural Special Forces AU]

SERIES MASTERLIST ❀ BadWolf!Dean x SweetVixen!Reader 🌹 ❀ BadWolf!Dean ❀ The Relationship 🌹🌷🥀 ❀ Chewing Gum 🌹 ( sexual innuendos ) ❀ "Love me the way you need me" ( completed ) NEW! part 1 🌷🥀 NEW! part 2 🌹🌷🥀 NEW! part 3 🌹🌷🥀

❀ꗥ Beau Arlen / Dean Winchester

[AU "Supernatural" x "Big Sky", set after S15 of SPN]

❀ The Broken Circle [planned sequel] 🥀 Beau!Dean x Hunter!Reader ( Angst, Tissue material │Words ~4k │ One Shot Thanks so much for all the positive feedback! A sequel is planned ♡ )

❀ꗥ Soldier Boy x fem!reader

❀ Milkshake for Two 🌹🌷🥀 Loverboy!SoldierBoy / Ben x fem!Reader ( Valentine's Day special! │One shot│Words ~7,4k ) ❀ Project Ground Zero (INTRO) [planned series] You’re an A-class supe. A Russian high value asset. And you’re anything but a hero. ( Soldier Boy / The Boys x Antihero!Reader │ set around season 3 │ Action, Plot, Enemies to lovers? )

𓍊𓋼 C.AI MASTERLIST

❀ꗥ Dean Winchester

❀ 🐇 Scared Bun [BigBrother!Dean x Shy!User] -> Request! It has been two days since you’d showed up out of nowhere in front of their bunker. What had happened, they could only speculate, as they’d hardly gotten a word out of you since. So they decided to take you in like a stray puppy, to tend to your injuries and hopefully, get you to trust them. 🍰 Be his birthday fling..? 💝 [Pre season 1 Dean!] 🍰 A rainy birthday on the road ⛈️ [Season 4 Dean!] ❀ Your PTSD therapy partner [ClosedOff!Dean] Dean's forced to go to therapy for his PTSD and nightmares about his time in Hell. And he hates it. But then you're introduced as his therapy partner. Can you gain his trust? ❀ Your first night at the bunker [Comfort!Dean and Civillian!User] The boys take you in after a demon possessed your father and killed your entire family trying to get to you. You have nothing left, the demon's still after you and nightmares plague your sleep. For now, the bunker is your new home. The images of your dead family keep you sleepless tonight, so you sneak out to the bunker's kitchen - where you bump into Dean. (He'll make you hot cocao ♡) ❀ Family Christmas dinner [Bf!Dean] Dean picks you up for your family Christmas dinner to join you as your partner! (fluff, flirty and sweet - roughly inspired by this imagine)

❀ꗥ Tangerine - Bullet Train

❀ Rivalry Team [Hitman!User - Mission / Flirty] You're riding shotgun while Tan's driving through the traffic of Tokyo, looking for your target. So far everything's gone sideways, which led to you two getting teamed up to get the bloody job done, even though you are rivals.

Open for requests! ❀ │ I love to create detailed bots lol, just hit me with an idea!

𓃢 TIDBITS ABOUT ME

⚝ My Jolly core 🦊 ⚝ I’m relatively new to writing fanfiction, and English is not my native language, so I’m still learning! I’m always open for writing buddies or just sharing and discussing ideas or ya know, yapping about SPN or The Boys etc. !!

⚝ Likes: foxes (my spirit animal ♡), rain, oldtimers, 70s/80s rock, cozy lights (candles and fairy lights ufff), pine trees, lore and monsters ⚝ Fav Themes: fluff, smut, funfiction, angst, action and found family, comfort (is that a theme?)

⚝ Main Fandoms: Supernatural, MCU, The Boys, maybe a little Top Gun / Maverick and Bullet Train 'cuz I won't ever let go of those movies / characters

⚝ Fav Movies / Series: SPN, MCU, The Boys, TLoU, Doctor Who, Good Omens, Umbrella Academy, Godzilla, Mononoke Hime, Top Gun / Maverick, Bullet Train, Gladiator (I+II) - and basically anything with Jensen Ackles and Pedro Pascal ♡

⚝ No Go's: No wincest, no proshipping, no noncon / extreme dubcon, no rape or glorifying abuse etc.! ⚝ This is a safe space for everyone!

Please, please, always stay respectful and be kind! If you don’t feel comfortable or don’t like what you see, you may always move along. ♡ Spread love not hate ♡

𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 Disclaimer: Any images or gifs used are from pinterest except stated otherwise. Please do not steal, use, copy or repost any of my content, whether bots or fanfics or artwork etc. done by me. My hellhounds will find you and hunt you down.

[damixo]

「 ☾ 」 ｎａｖｅｉｌａｎ ｍｙｔｈｓ ｖｏｌ． ｉ．．．

In Naveilan folklore, the Notone (/no.to.'ne/ lit. "the perfects," singular "Noto") are humanoid supernatural entities. Their main characteristic is their obsession with perfection and it is advised to never accept a challenge from a Noto as they will always win. Notone are masters at every skill, whether it be wrestling, swimming, etc. and possess supernatural levels of strength and speed.

Physically, Notone are described as looking exactly like humans except for a small, colorful horn somewhere on their body that they hide with hair or clothing. Notone are extremely insecure about their horn and will hide it at all costs. They also are said to have perfectly smooth skin without any blemishes, birthmarks, moles, or scars. They can be spotted by their unrealistic and doll-like beauty, which gives them an uncanny valley appearance.

Notone are said to come from a kingdom in the sky where everything is as perfect as them. They are not inherently malicious as they have no sense of right or wrong, only "perfect" and "imperfect." They are typically devoid of emotions or personality, only described as polite, helpful, obedient, or pleasant.

Notone descend to the human world to "help" but the irrationality of our world causes them distress. When near a person that is displaying large amounts of emotion, a Noto's horn grows and forces them to feel the same emotions. Notone hate this feeling and panic when their horn grows. They retaliate by kidnapping, or in some regions killing the emotional person, and replacing them with an exact Noto copy.

Notone are incredibly symmetrical and a traditional way of verifying if a person is a Noto is to paint on their arm. If they were a Noto, they would panic and be forced to paint an exact mirrored copy on their other arm. It is also customary to gift new homeowners paintings and decor with mismatched colors or wobbly lines as a repellent. Asymmetry as a Notone repellent is a common theme throughout every region of Naveila. Other, albeit less effective, repellents are loud noises, screaming, or yelling.

The most common way of beating a Noto is by challenging them to a singing contest with an audience as judges. While Notone are also perfect singers, it is in a technical way and they are said to "sing with an empty heart." It is advised to sing an emotional ballad with the prerequisite that the winner is whoever can move the audience the most. This is the only challenge a Noto will always lose.

Notone myths trace back to the Vyafyi dynasty of Naveila. The Vyafyi overthrew one of the tribes leaders and eventually seized control of all of Naveila. Naveilan peasants were heavily subjugated under their rule and treated as slaves. Art was forbidden and destroyed and imperfection was unacceptable. Scholars theorize Notone myths emerged as a result of Naveilan fear and trauma associated with this colonization. Those who quickly accepted their new Vyafyi overlords were said to have been replaced by a Noto. The Notone myths illustrate the Naveilan belief that a life of only work and perfection is inherently inhuman.

While "noto" literally means "perfect" in Naveilan, due to it's association with the Notone and subjugation at the hands of the Vyafyi dynasty, "noto" has taken on a negative connotation in the modern day. Perfection is not a virtue in Naveilan culture and being called "noto" is actually an insult as it more closely means "toxic perfectionism," "try-hard," or "perfection at the cost of uniqueness." The Naveilan word "konoto" (lit. "imperfect") is instead a compliment, roughly used as "imperfect but beautiful" or a nickname such as "vei konoto" (lit. "my imperfect") roughly used as "I acknowledge your flaws and love you anyways."

[astra-ravana]

Acquiring, Keeping, and Caring For Cursed Objects

So, you want a cursed object? Maybe you're a collector of haunted artifacts, a chaos witch who loves a challenge, or just someone who thinks “possessed” is a selling point. Whatever your reason, handling cursed items is an art—one that requires knowledge, caution, and maybe a good exorcist on speed dial.

Where to Find Cursed Objects

If you’re looking to acquire an object with questionable spiritual history, try:

Thrift Stores & Estate Sales

• Old mirrors, antique dolls, and Victorian jewelry are prime candidates.

• Look for items with a strange energy or eerie backstory from previous owners.

• Cursed objects tend to feel either cold or warm.

Online Marketplaces

• eBay and Etsy occasionally feature items labeled as “haunted” or “cursed.”

• Be wary of fakes—if it comes with a certificate of authenticity, it’s probably a gimmick.

Abandoned & Historical Sites

• Be very careful when taking objects from old buildings, cemeteries, or battlefields. Some spirits don’t appreciate being relocated without permission.

Occult Shops & Witch Markets

• Some practitioners sell intentionally hexed, haunted, or enchanted objects.

• Check the seller’s reputation before buying something that might decide to rearrange your furniture at night.

How to Identify a Cursed Object

Not all creepy antiques are cursed, but some red flags include:

Unexplained Bad Luck - After bringing the object home, things start breaking, people fall ill, or your cat suddenly hates you.

Disturbing Dreams & Nightmares - If an item gives you visions of past tragedies, or whispers in the night—it’s probably cursed.

Strange Physical Reactions - Feeling cold, dizzy, or heavy near the object? That’s a sign of a strong energy attachment.

Moving or Vanishing on Its Own - If the object relocates itself, refuses to stay put, or vanishes and reappears, congratulations—you have an active one.

Electronic & Environmental Disturbances - Flickering lights, draining batteries, and objects falling for no reason are classic signs of spirit activity.

Safely Keeping a Cursed Object

If you want to coexist with your new haunted acquisition (without getting hexed into oblivion), follow these guidelines:

Set Boundaries-

• Speak to the object (yes, really). Tell it:

“You are welcome here, but you will not harm, scare, or disrupt my space.”

• Reinforce with protective symbols (salt, runes, or sigils).

Keep It Contained-

• Glass cases help contain energy.

• A dedicated altar or place of honor makes the spirit feel welcome and appreciated.

• Iron boxes can trap aggressive spirits.

• Mirror boxes can function as a trap for many spirits.

Regular Cleansing & Offerings-

• If the spirit is sentient, occasional offerings (coins, incense, or flowers) can keep it calm.

• Empower the spirit through regular acknowledgement.

• Smoke cleansing, bells, or singing bowls can balance energy without removing the curse/spirit.

• Marshmallow root makes spirits happy and calm.

Have a Backup Plan-

• If things go wrong, have banishing components (like black salt, rue, or black tourmaline) ready.

• A witch, priest, or medium can help if the object becomes too hostile.

• Consider 'rehoming' objects that become too dangerous to a more willing collector.

• Burying, throwing into fast moving water, or burning will neutralize most objects. Some spirits may just be made furious by the disrespect, however, so be wise.

Owning a cursed object is like having a supernatural roommate—you need rules, respect, and an exit strategy. Whether you’re collecting for curiosity, magickal experimentation, or sheer thrill, just remember: some spirits are happy to stay dormant… until they’re not. Happy haunting!

[postmortemnivis]

if dean had to die right this instant, he’d die a happy man, seeing last his most prized possession. 

the impala roared to life as he pulled out of the parking lot of the motel he’d been staying at, and he thought that it resembled the roar of the king of the beasts, aggressive and noble. 

sometimes dean thought of himself as a lion, proud, courageous and assertive. he sure felt like one when he was hunting, stalking his preys, circling them before ambushing, never leaving any survivors. never hunting in prides, he preferred to take care of his victim by himself, hardly ever accompanied by more than two other predators, but still leading the hunt. or maybe he’d nuzzle his nose into his prey’s neck and shoulders, leaving soft kisses at the exposed skin before whispering sweet words in their ears, words he rarely ever meant.

that second type of hunt was the one he preferred, the one he needed to take the edge off from the main ones, the ones that left deeper scars and marks on his body than the other.

rolling his window down, he sighed contently as one of his favourite albums started playing on the old stereo, running a hand through his messy hair, not having bothered to cut or properly comb it in weeks.

harvey, another hunter he’d met when he was still a young man, following his father and his orders anywhere on the passenger seat of the impala, had called that morning and informed him of a series of supernatural looking disappearances down a highway california, and dean was set on finding out what was causing it.

the ride, albeit filled with old rock playing in the background, was surprisingly silent. in the past years dean had grown close again to his brother, and he’d gotten used to sam reading some lore out loud, discussing their theories on what they could be about to face, but the passenger seat was now empty. 

if dean was anything, it was a family man. he’d lost the count of the times he’d put sam’s life before his own without even thinking about it. it had become automatic, he had been doing it ever since sam was born and he had never learned to live without doing it.

without sam and bobby, dean felt incredibly alone, helpless.

he missed pretending to detest bobby’s cooking, sam’s terrible singing during long rides and stupidly healthy diet, the sharp tone bobby would use when picking up the phone or watching the game with them in bobby’s living room with a cold beer in his hand, feet propped up on the coffee table that was covered in old lore books, empty beer cans and bullet shells scattered everywhere around the house.

losing bobby was worse than losing his own father, even if he hated himself for even thinking that.

he could try and lie to himself, telling himself he was better off alone, acting like he preferred to lead a solitary life, a lone wolf. he could lie all he wanted, but the lonely nights weighted on his weary soul like the whole world on atlas’ shoulders. 

deep down, he craved it, to love and feel loved. he could blame his mother for dying, or his father for preferring his brother their whole lives, when dean, ever the obliging soldier, hanged from each of his father’s words, while all sam did was challenge him.

ironically, it was as god preferred lucifer to michael, the rebel son to the devoted one. dean and sam really would’ve been the perfect vessels to fight each other, the true match the biblical brothers could’ve used to battle the other for one last time, if the winchesters hadn’t found their way out of that.

kansas was playing, and like every time, dean couldn’t help but think of his old house, his first and only one. the memories were blurry, singed by the same fire that had torn his family apart many years before. he remembered how he could smell the cherry pie baking in the oven while he was playing in the backyard with his father, his brother’s soft fusses as his mother would coo at him and sing to him to calm him down. he could almost see it in the darkness of the open road, he could almost touch his mother’s nightgown, but all his memories really were just like dust in the wind.

without even noticing, dean had been driving for hours, crossing state lines and he struggled to recognise in the dark the california highway he was on. 

dean grabbed his phone from the passenger seat and dialed harvey's number before bringing the phone to his ear.

“this is harvey, currently i’m not available. leave a message and i’ll call you as soon as i can.” the recorded voice told dean, who groaned, tightening his grip on the wheel.

“harvey, man, it’s dean. listen, I’m in the middle of the desert, just off I-40. where was that place you told me about?”

all he could think about was crashing on a motel bed after chugging down half a bottle of scotch.

the motel led insignia looked almost like a mirage, and dean pulled inside the empty parking lot, the only other car there looked like it must’ve been parked there for at least ten years, judging from its conditions.

dean wearily got out of the car and grabbed his old duffle bag from the trunk before locking it and heading for the reception.

as he walked inside, he caught a whiff of old lady’s perfume, cigarettes and air freshener.

an old man, probably in his late sixties, sat behind the wooden desk, smoking as he flipped through the pages of a newspaper. the few hairs he had left were oily and the plaid shirt he was wearing was stained too.

“evening.” the man grinned up at dean, taking the cigarette out of his mouth. “welcome to the sunset dunes inn.”

“thanks.” dean muttered, dropping his bag at his feet. “a single. just for tonight.”

“that’ll be 95, son, unless you want a deluxe. it’s bigger and it has a beautiful desert view, the sunsets are to die fo-”

“i’ll take the basic one.” dean replied, grabbing his wallet and pulling out four twenty dollar bills.

the man looked at dean through his brows before he inhaled more smoke, placing in front of the hunter the guests register. “alright, i’ll need a signature here then.”

the hunter signed as steve gaines before reaching for his bag again.

“marge!” the man called, and a woman not younger than fifty five popped her head out of the back door. she was taller than the man dean thought to be her husband, but she shared his same slimy look. “key to room six.” 

as marge, with a nod, went to fetch the key, the man looked back at dean.

“care to take a brochure?”

“i’m not staying for long.” dean replied, shaking his head.

the man furrowed his brows. “i understand. take one anyway, see for yourself our town.”

“is there a diner around here?” he finally gave in and grabbed the dusty brochure the man was handing him.

“just two miles to the left into town, hard to miss, it’s the only one.” marge suddenly chirped up, back with dean’s keys as she passed it to him.

“thanks…” He muttered before walking back outside, walking down to room six.

he looked again around the empty parking lot, studying the hot night as he tried to come up with an explanation as to why they’d placed him in room six instead of one, it surely wasn’t because they were busy.

he glanced down at the brochure, which seemed as old as the owners of the motel.

aurelia, it read, apparently located between the nevada border and palm springs, in the middle of the mojave desert. 

founded in 1852 during the gold rush era, was born as a mining town, now a hidden oasis not many know. surrounded by red rock canyons, it is also known as the golden mirage, jewel of the desert, the town where the old west meets the 20th century…

“how freakin’ old is this thing…” dean muttered to himself.

as he looked at the passing doors for his, the flickering lights on the porch finally seemed to work, and dean caught a glimpse of a figure standing on a doorway.

“welcome to the sunset dunes inn.”

he turned and was met with your face.

he’d met many angels in the past few years, maybe too much for his liking and surely more than the average person, and could say that you were just as gracious as the angels he’d encountered. your face, the way your eyes shined in the dark and your lips wrapped around the cigarette you had just lit. this was his hell and heaven at the same time, the few feet of distance between the two of you was the only enemy he had in his mind.

“thanks.” he swallowed the lump in his throat. he was never nervous around women, stand alone pretty ones, but something about you felt completely different from any other woman dean had ever seen in his whole life. 

“you’ll like it here,” you hummed, “it’s a really lovely town.”

“i’m not staying.” he found himself saying for a second time that night, only this time regretting it.

you raised both your eyebrows. “oh? just passing through?”

“you don’t get many tourists, do you?” dean pointed out, looking down at you.

“we’re in an isolated area,” you explained, careful to exhale the smoke away from his face, “we get occasional travellers like you, we don’t get that many new faces.”

you silently handed your cigarette to him and he inhaled a few drags before returning it to you. surprised by his own action, dean furrowed his brows. he wasn’t a smoker, had never been one to fall into deadly vices, apart from hunting and alcohol. he felt like he would’ve done anything that you asked him to do, even throw himself down a cliff, if there had been any around.  

the soft breeze whispered in his ears, messing up his hair as he couldn’t find it in himself to stop looking at you. it sounded almost like an old song, a secretive whisper. the swish and whoosh could almost resemble words, voices carried from afar.

“you live here or something?”

you chuckled. “yes, my parents are the owners.”

“oh.”

how did slimy and grandma manage to pop out one like this? dean thought to himself. 

“i just come here to visit, though. i moved to LA a few years ago.” you explained with a chuckle. “there wasn’t really much to do here after high school.”

before dean could answer, you pointed behind him. “that yours?”

dean nodded at the impala.

“sweet ride. it’s the nice kind of old, y’know?” you finished your cigarette, stomping it on the ground, and dean blinked, hanging from your every word.

“was my old man’s.”

“mine’s that one.” you pointed at car on the other side of the lot, beside the rusty one he’d first seen, and he could’ve sworn it wasn't there when he’d parked his.

“which room?” you hummed.

“six.”

“next door, neighbor.” you smiled, and dean glanced at the number on the door next to yours. Indeed six, big and brassed.

“so…” he was dying to keep the conversation going, “how’s the big life in los angeles treating you? You one of those brainless valley girls yet?”

you chuckled, rolling your eyes at him. “i’m still a small town girl, i don’t think i’ll ever get used to living in a big city.”

“i’m sure it can be fun,” he retorted, “you can meet more people than here.”

“that’s for sure. but i miss my friends from aurelia, you know? that’s why I visit as much as i do. the people are so different there…”

dean held back a yawn. he’d been on the road for the whole day, and could barely feel his legs any more. “do you have anything to drink? strong, possibly?”

you shook your head. “sorry, pop hasn’t kept alcohol around here since he married my mother in ‘69. he’s gone all catholic, won’t even eat meat on fridays and during lent.”

“must’ve been hell not having a liquor cabinet to steal from in high school.” dean chuckled, admiring the way your hair ever so gracefully framed your face. straight outta renaissance painting, he decided, just like a dream.

“if you want, i have some sodas.”

he shook his head, cursing himself for being so human, so tired. “i think i’ll go to sleep, thanks.”

“sure, goodnight.”

“night.” he replied before unlocking his door and getting in.

dean dropped his duffle at the end of the bed and kicked his boots off before cracking open the window looking around the room, cleaner than the motel accommodations he was used to.

with a tired groan, he lay down on the bed, not bothering to pull back the duvet.

he started brainstorming ideas, he still needed to be sharp for the case. what could be snatching people off the highway? a woman in white, perhaps a ghost, or even a crocotta… he’d ask you if there were any local legends in the area the following morning, even if he wanted to just knock on your door and spend the night with you.

as he tried to sleep, the wind would softly blow in the room, dancing with the curtains, whispering in his ears. he couldn’t tell if the long drive was getting the best of him and he was starting to hear voices, hallucinating, or if someone was actually talking outside, but he was too tired to care.

dean was used to nightmares, he’d wake up sweaty in the middle of the night at least three times a week, usually recurring nightmares from his time in hell, but wet dreams… that was new even for him. although he consumed more porn than the average person should, he’d rarely ever dreamt of women–the weight of his job heavy even on his psyche–and surely enough never women he’d just met, but you’d found your way into his mind, his dreams.

it all felt so real and lucid, dean couldn’t tell if it was really you undressing in front of him, but he couldn’t get out of it, not that he was complaining anyway, the way your soft curves looked in the feeble light from his bedside lamp made him crazy.

his forehead and palms were sweaty as he tried to reach for you.

“tut-tut…” you murmured as you slipped out of your jeans, “i want something first.”

dean pathetically nodded. “a-anything.”

“look up.”

as he was following your instructions, the first pale rays of the sunrise made him scrunch his eyes before they fluttered open.

he blinked a few times, his eyes met the mirror on the ceiling. he asked himself if it was some subliminal message his subconscious was sending him, maybe that he needed to get laid? he’d taken a girl back to his motel room just two nights before, it wasn’t that, it was something different. different, like you from any girl he’d ever set eyes on in his lifetime. he needed to have you in a consuming way, one that made him ache for you even though you were just next door.

next door.

he quickly sat up and tied his combat boots back on, immediately springing up and heading towards the door.

the early morning air was bitter, too cold, and dean had to admit to himself that the sunrise might’ve just been as beautiful as the sunset he’d experienced while on the road the previous evening, the cool purples and blues making it feel almost unreal.

he took a deep breath, nothing but fresh air and- cigarettes again.

“you’re up early.” you noticed.

he turned to face you, just as breathless as the night before.

“could say the same about you.”

“i have a reason, helping my parents with cleaning. what’s your excuse?” you hummed, inhaling smoke like you were immune to cancer.

“couldn’t sleep.” he admitted, almost shy to look at you, as if he had desecrated your body by dreaming about it. if he looked close enough he could catch glimpses of what was underneath the almost see through camise you apparently wore to sleep. 

“so… you getting ready to leave?”

dean never hated hunting more than he did right that moment. “looks like it. i should get going…”

“oh… have breakfast with me, at least? before i won’t ever see you again?” you mused.

just as dean was about to get into your room with a lazy grin, his phone buzzed to life, and he noticed that the mirrors in your room were all covered by sheets.

it was harvey, peskily sending him message after message.

> you’re close

> got word that people are disappearing from this little town called aurelia, at least four people never checked out of this sunset inn motel or something. 

> also checked in with rudy moser from FL, thinks it could be a siren lurking people in.

> me n rudy are a call away if you need backup, man.

dean stopped dead in his tracks.

“what?”

“gotta grab something first.” he muttered, quickly making his way to the Impala and opening the trunk. he rummaged through various weapons before finding the bronze dagger he was looking for. watching your motel door over the edge of the open trunk, where you were standing, he hissed and bit onto his bottom lip as he used the blade to cut through the skin of his palm.

if you were as dangerous as you were beautiful, dean didn’t want to risk it. he knew that he was already under your spell.

dean hid the dagger in the waistband of his jeans before shutting the truck close and walking back to you, putting a smile on his face.

“everything alright?” you asked.

if you were what dean thought you were, he had to be careful about what he thought about you. “yeah, just checking something.”

his lie tasted bitterly on his tongue, and you could almost sense it.

you opened the door wider to let him in, before dean abruptly shut it behind himself, looking at you with hooded eyes. he locked the door and took a step towards you.

“what are you?”

“i’m me-”

“bo, you’re not human, you’re a monster.” dean growled, grabbing his dagger.

“i- no-”

“cut the crap.” he barked, and he almost grew in size too, standing so tall a flash of fear shot in your eyes.

“what do you want me to say, then? that i’m just what you hunt? probably the whole reason why you’re here in california, dean? oh, yes, i know who you are. who doesn’t these days?”

“are you going to put up a fight or go down quietly?” he snarled, taking another step closer to you, holding his dagger tighter as you backed away. “is it you?”

“i don’t-”

“you just confessed, it’s useless to lie now!” he pushed you to your bed.

“do you want me to admit it? i know you’re looking for those missing people- why do you think you’re in room six? their rotting bodies are all in the other rooms, piling up!”

those were probably the voices that dean had been hearing, now finally understanding their whispers as an advice to run for his life. “god, baby…” he almost dropped his weapon. “breaking my freakin’ heart and we haven’t even slept together.”

“but i can’t stop, i’ve been doing so good in LA, nobody cares if a couple of people a month go missing, that’s normal there… i can’t stop, dean, can’t change who i am.” you whined so pathetically dean could almost believe you. “oh, dean, you have to believe me…”

“you’re a siren.” he finally muttered. “so pretty and you can’t even stand to look at yourself in a mirror…”

“dean…” you breathed as he lifted the dagger to your neck, starting to press the blade into your soft skin. 

“i really wish there was another way…” dean breathed on your skin, he could smell how good your hair smelled, how beautiful you looked now that he was so close to you.

you weren’t violent, dean had understood that much, and you closed your eyes, accepting your cursed fate.

“no survivors behind…” he hissed to himself, still holding the bloody bronze dagger by your neck, before getting off of you and cleaning his blood off the blade on his jeans.

“wha- no!” you protested, stumbling to get up. “you’re supposed to kill me! i can’t- i can’t live like this anymore, with who i am!” 

“sorry, sweetheart, guess you’ll have to learn how to.” the hunter mumbled, rubbing his eyes, tired. 

“no, kill me!” you commanded, and the poison that was now flowing through his veins almost made him obey your order.

“no…” dean grunted, taking another step closer to the door, trying to put as much distance between you two as he could. “how do i get rid of… your spell, or whatever it is that you freaks do to your victims.”

you winced a little as he called you a freak.

“i don’t have all day.” he barked, and you, almost shyly, approached him.

as you raised your hands in surrender, dean let you get close to him, and tried not to react as your lips brushed against his. all he wanted was to pull you back into him and kiss you senseless.

“you’re free.”

“how’d i know you’re not lyin’?” he questioned, wary as you took a step back.

“you haven’t killed me when you had the chance, some part of you trusts me, dean.”

dean sighed. “only shame is that this pretty face isn’t real…” he reached up to brush his knuckles on your cheekbone.

“you won’t kill my parents either?” you chirped up.

he raised his brows. “they’re-?”

“i help them clean out the place from their occasional victims, guess they went too far out this time…”

“it was them?” slimy and grandma weren’t as harmless as they looked.

you nodded, looking away. “as i said, i help them with cleaning.”

he sighed. “christ…”

“dean-” you tried saying, taking one careful, measured step closer to him, but he reluctantly stopped you.

“go back to los angeles.” he growled.

“can’t…” you ran a hand through your hair, almost nervous.

dean really didn’t understand, you could’ve killed him at any moment, he’d been under your spell this whole time, you could've told him to kill himself and he would’ve done it without even considering saying no to you, maybe even saying thank you.

“what do you mean, you can’t?”

you sighed. “ny parents… they're too old to do what they do, they need me.”

“screw ‘em and leave.” dean said, matter of factly.

“you clearly did not grow up with strict parents.” you snorted, and you didn’t know just how much dean understood you. “i wish it was that easy…”

“so, you can't leave?”

“you go. please, they’ll come for you too, check yourself out while you can, before it’s too late.”

he paused, sighing. he rubbed his temples.

you looked at him, expectantly.

“useless to make eyes at me now, sweetheart…” he groaned with a grimace, “kinda ruins the mood when I know that you’re a hairless, ugly, gaunt thing. hope you don’t take it personally-”

you rolled your eyes at him. “knew you’d love this skin, though.”

“oh, i loved it all right, until fifteen minutes ago.”

“you know I can read your mind, right?”

“good for you, then you know how hard it is for me right now not to stab you in the eyeball.” he muttered.

“meaning i can see your deepest desire, needs and… well, that dream last night? one hell of  a show.” you smirked.

“glad you liked your own strip tease.” he grinned back at you.

you kissed his lips again, softly. “goodbye, dean.”

he paused, considering whether it’d be a good idea to do all the things he’d been dreaming about since the first moment he’d seen you, but then he took a step back. “bye sweetheart, i better not see you ever again. don’t get into any trouble, other hunters won’t be as stupid as i’m bein’ now…” 

you nodded with a gentle, grateful smile. “won’t.”

dean turned his back to you and walked back to his car before he could say, do anything else.

he sat in the car for a moment before dialing harvey’s number. 

“oh, for god’s sake, what if i was dying, man…” dean groaned as his call was sent straight to voicemail again. “harvey, it’s dean. checked that sunset dunes motel, it’s not there. m’heading to the next town, maybe the siren’s on the road too. check in with you tonight.” 

the impala’s engine roared to life, a deep, guttural sound like a lion letting out a warning growl, its power vibrating through the metal frame. it was the same hunger that’d driven dean for years—chasing, seeking, always so close—only then, it was no longer directed at the creature he’d let slip away. Instead, it was a growl of frustration, a raw reminder of the beast inside him that’d been tamed, held back, and left to howl in the silence of the desert night.

the open road was the one view dean winchester would’ve never gotten tired of, him and his car against the world, hunting things and saving people. sometimes he’d take a moment and think of all the people he’d saved in his life, but never a monster.

he knew he was being unfair, he remembered how hard it had been when he heard the shot that loudly announced madison’s death, and as he drove away from the sunset dunes inn motel, he thought that maybe he wasn’t really clean of your poison, some of it still in his system, making it impossible for him to kill you, maybe there wasn't even a cure and you'd just pretended to cleanse him from you. everything he believed in, killing monsters no matter how harmless they looked, crumbling down at the sight of your soft smile. 

he quickly decided that sam was never supposed to know of what happened, and nodded to himself as the eagles started playing from the stereo. even if sam was to find out, it was none of his business what dean decided to do with his life when they weren’t together, it was sam who wanted time apart anyway.

the wind kicked up dust behind him as he drove away. the impala hummed along the long stretch of highway, empty for miles in either direction. 

his grip on the wheel was tight, knuckles white, but his mind—his heart—felt a thousand miles away from the road he was on.

but he’d let you go. 

the words still tasted bitter on his tongue, like swallowing dirt, but they were true. he'd let you slip away, yet your presence was still lingering in the dust and heat.

dean could have done his job, should’ve. he should’ve turned the car around, gone back to the motel, made the call. told harvey everything, killed you. but there was something in his chest—a tugging, aching part of him—that made him hesitate.

the desert stretched out before him, silent and endless. there was nothing for miles but the occasional cactus, the mountains rising up like ghosts in the distance. he suddenly felt so small against it all, like a speck of dust on a windblown road.

but he was still driving. heading west. heading away from everything, from you. he’d spend a few days a few towns away before declaring the siren, you, gone forever, lost.

maybe it was the heat that made his throat dry, or maybe it was the weight of what he’d just done, the lie he was about to tell. the decision sat heavy on his heart, but he had set his mind, no going back now.

dean didn’t know if he’d ever see you again, he didn’t know if he wanted. hell, he didn’t know if he’d ever forgive himself for what he’d done.

but the road was long. and he was still out here, somewhere in the middle of it.

i was so torn between the siren or maybe a ghost/vengeful spirit… ugh, im still not entirely convinced maybe ill even rewrite the whole thing

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Worth The Wait: Part One

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~900

Warnings: fluff

Request by anon: Hey so every one know that Jensen like Batman, so i have this ideas where the reader is Jensen wife and popular actress who is casted to play Cat woman with Robert Pattinson or other one and the reader never tell Jensen because she want to be a surprise or something like that and she bring him to the premiere where was the Batmobile and him was just fanboy? Fluffy between Jensen and reader 

Summary: You've been working on a movie you know Jensen will love to see, so you've managed to keep it from him until the world premiere. Now it's your chance to unveil the surprise.

Square Filled: hereditary for @spnonewordbingo (deleted bingo)

Author’s Note: we're all gonna pretend that the movie Batman v Superman had Catwoman in it. okay? okay.

x

This all started when your great-grandmother got scouted to be in short films in the early 1900s. Actresses weren't a big thing back then but someone took one look at her and knew she was meant to be on the big screen, whatever that meant back then. She was known all throughout the state as a big-time actress even though all the things she was in were silent films. She had a great facial profile that really embodied everything she was thinking and feeling. She started young but that’s what people did back then. They started their professions at a young age.

When your grandmother was born in 1934, your great-grandmother was already moving on to bigger and better things. She starred in the movie It Happened One Night, The Thin Man, and MGM’s musical/romance adaptation of Cat and the Fiddle. Those were just to name a few. Your grandmother saw what she was doing and wanted to follow in her footsteps, doing everything she could do be in television, the big screen, and in theater.

She got her big break when she got cast in Treasure Island and Fantasia with Disney. She got acting gig after acting gig until she had your mother in 1954. She took a few years off to be with her family but got right back into it. Your mother had a knack for theater and did her time on Broadway more than she did in film. She starred in musicals like Applause, Fiddler on the Roof, Annie, Sweeny Todd, and Grease.

She had you in 1989, and you started singing and acting at a very young age. You got into commercials and TV shows from the get-go. Probably because you come from a line of Tony, Oscar, and Emmy winners. You tried not to let your line of succession lead you to getting good parts, but you’ve managed to get a small role in Jurrasic Park as a child, and into much bigger roles in Charlie’s Angels, Mr. & Mrs. Smith, Saw I, Avatar, The Hunger Games, and many more.

You worked your ass off to be where you are today, and you’re actually working on putting your own album out because you’re striving to be the first EGOT winner in your family. You’ve gotten one Tony Award, too-many-to-count Oscars, and two Emmy awards.

To think you were the shy theater kid who only sang in front of people if you were starring in a play at school. After graduation, you got into a good acting school even though you didn’t really need it, but you still welcomed the challenge they put you through, even starring in most of the plays there. Now you’re a thirty-five-year-old woman with awards like no other, a husband who is just incredible, and an amazing career that is nowhere close to being done.

Your husband is also an actor, a big one for Supernatural. He’s been nothing short of amazing and you’re so proud of him and his work. It sucked at the beginning of his career since you two barely saw each other but the longer you did this, the more you settled into your own groove. You got to take the time off to be with each other a lot more.

You get to go to conventions with him and he gets to go to movie premieres with you. There is nothing you’d trade for this little life of yours. Speaking of movie premiers, you just got done filming your movie Batman vs Superman where you played Catwoman, but you refused to tell your husband anything about it. He is a big Batman fan, and if you were to surprise him with a Batman premier, he’d go feral. Jensen respected you enough to not go snooping when he knew you wanted this to be a surprise, and his friends respected you enough to not tell him about it.

Jenson has been bouncing in his seat since he entered the limo, and you’ve been watching with a wide smile on your face. When the limo gets to the red carpet, Jensen gasps at seeing everything Batman.

“Surprise! I’m Catwoman!”

“You got to be in a room with Batman?”

You two leave the Limo and smile at the cameras flashing in your face. Jensen doesn’t care if he looks like a little kid, he is going to be excited over anything Batman (even though you’re a tad more of a Marvel girl than DC). You’re trying to get in on one of their projects so fingers crossed! There is a section before the red carpet where people can take pictures with a real-life prop of the Batmobile.

Jensen loses his shit and rushes over with a giant smile on his face. You don’t care if a million people are watching or if it’s just you two, but you’ll always love the way he gets excited over things. He gets his picture taken with the Batmobile alone and then with you, and you pull him off to the side with a smile on your face.

“Is this a good surprise? Was it worth the wait?”

“So worth the wait. This is amazing.” Jensen leans in to kiss you but stops with a gasp. “Is that Michael Keaton?”

Jensen’s favorite Batman is Michael Keaton.

“Yeah, he showed up on set a few times. He’s a nice guy!”

“I’m nervous. Should I go up to him?”

“Yeah. He won’t bite,” you chuckle.

You escort Jensen over to Michael who is more than happy to talk to your husband. He hasn’t been this happy and excited in a while, and you’re glad to be part of it.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[whumpsandwhimpers]

INTRO POST!

HI fellow whump lovers!! I'm Aster! (my main is @ablatheringblatherskite!)

I have finally decided to make a whump blog. Mostly because I'm having a hard time sorting and finding the posts I reblogged on my main. My main will still be getting a bunch of whump stuff, but this sideblog will be exclusively whump!!

I'm mostly a fanfic writer, although I do have some original stories in the works!

Some fandoms I've written for (and want to write for): Phantom of the Opera, Supernatural, One Piece, Les Mis, Spider-Man, Daredevil, Wednesday, Hamilton

Blorbos I've Whumped (Or will whump): Raoul de Chagny, Erik (the Phantom), Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Roronoa Zoro, Sanji, Peter Parker, Matt Murdock, Tyler Galpin, Hiccup Haddock III

READ MY WHUMP FICS HERE!

IMPORTANT NOTE AND SQUICKS:

I'm also a Christian. I avoid explicit and NSFW whump, as well as whump as a kink or fetish. I'm fine with graphic gore and violence, but avoid the more sexual side of whump generally.

Squicks: NSFWhump, overtly sexual contents, mentions of genitalia, Urination,

Some whump stuff I like!:

Restraints!!!! (shackles attached to the wall or ceiling, chained, tied to a chair, bound on the floor or in a stress position, gags, cloth gags and duct tape, collars and muzzles, hidden restraints, etc.)

Kidnapped and capture!!

Body horror (especially paired with non-con body mod)

Resigned whumpee, especially a defiant whumpee becoming broken and resigned and afraid

Small cages

Trophy Whumpee (Whumpee to be shown off and be pretty)

Mouth/eyelids stitched shut

Manhandling!!

Royal whumpee

Stress position

Dehumanization, Infantilization, and Humiliation/Degredation

Torture!!

Pet whump (obviously not the NSFW kind)

Nonsexual BBU

Roleplay whump (like, when the whumper forces the whumpee to play a specific role for them. Like their child, or spouse, etc)

Creepy whumper

Intimate whumper (yes ofc not the NSFW kind. More like ruffling their hair, patting their cheeks, holding their face, playing with their hair or ears, etc.)

Non-sexual, noncon touching

Exhaustion (but particularly when it's with an art form)

Performance whump (is this a thing. Like being forced to sing/dance for whumper's entertainment, or for whumper's gain)

Art whumpee (whumpee that's somehow turned into art)

Cosmetic whump

Plaything Whumpee (Whumpee being treated like a toy, a plaything)

Doll Whumpee (Whumpee being treated like a doll)

Experimentation and lab whump/medical whump (Lab rat whumpee!!)

Living Weapon

Forced obedience

Manipulation, mind games and gaslighting

Body control (Like, when whumper is only in control of the body but not the mind, so whumpee is maybe trapped in their mind and forced to watch)

Enslaved whumpee (IDK WHAT THIS IS CALLED but basically when a usually non-human whumpee is forced to serve and obey their master, whether that came about through a contract or the master somehow finding a way to trap them into servitude)

Whumpee being turned into a puppet (literally and figuratively)/Literally being puppeteered with strings

Brainwashing/mind control

Cybernetics whump

Sensory deprivation

Branding

Carving skin with a knife (carving words, or maybe a creepy smile on the corners of whumpee's mouth!)

Public whump (public humiliation and being used as an example/to discourage people mmmmm)

Dismemberment/Vivisection/General Mutilation/Permanent damage/Gore

Waterboarding/Head being dunked into water forcefully

Good ol' classic beating while whumpee is restrained/already down

And I Must Scream

Trauma

Comfort

And probably more that I've forgotten!!

Masterposts:

Chrumblr Whumblr 2024

Whumpuary 2025

Stuff I've Written (that aren't for whump challenges):

Muzzled / Foot on mouth / Bait for WoW / "Say It." / Good Bunny / Meat / "Why're you hitting yourself?"

Stuff I've Drawn:

Kiki being tortured / Raoul locked up / Ettie / Ettie kidnapped / "Shut up" (Ettie) / Whump art exchange 2025: Token

For Me:

Toyybox - Whump art exchange 2025: Ettie, Sam & Dean / Cyberwhumper - Christmas art

MY ART FIGHT!

I will GLADLY draw whump art for you guys :DDD

FEEL FREE TO GIVE ME WRITING/PROMPT REQUESTS!! (I'll probably just be slow about answering...)

Aaaand that's all I guess! Let the whumping begin!

Tags and stuff:

#asterrisks, #favorites, #aster's writings, #aster's snippets, #aster's art, #my reblog additions, #blorbos, #aster's inbox, #aster's asks, #to watch, #was tagged

#whump writing, #whump writing references, #whump, #whump art, #whump gifsets, #whump prompts, #whump writings, #crack whump, #whump dialogue, #whump humor, #masterlist

#whumper, #multiple whumpers, #possessive whumper, #intimate whumper, #creepy whumper, #creepy/intimate whumper, #sadistic whumper, #cold whumper, #collector whumper, #artist whumper, #vampire whumper,

#whumpee, #multiple whumpees, #non human whumpee, #trophy whumpee, #lab rat whumpee, #resigned whumpee, #conditioned whumpee, #pliant whumpee, #broken whumpee, #royal whumpee, #defiant whumpee, #scared whumpee, #sarcastic whumpee, #stoic whumpee, #angry whumpee, #scared whumpee, #immortal whumpee, #child whumpee, #minor whumpee, #owned whumpee, #battery whumpee, #doll whumpee, #feral whumpee, #winged whumpee, #plaything whumpee, #digital whumpee, #vampire whumpee,

#caretaker, #bad caretaker, #carewhumper, #siblings, #relationships in whump

#restraints, #bound, #cocooned, #hanging from the ceiling, #tied to a chair, #tied to a tree, #strapped to a table, #tied to a bed, #bound and gagged, #gagging, #mouth stitched shut, #muted, #silenced, #blindfolded

#forced to watch, #forced to hurt a friend, #forced smile, #forced labour, #forced marriage, #force feeding, #forced drinking, #forced to participate, #forced to fight, #forced obedience, #hypnosis, #mind control, #controlled, #body control, #paralysis/paralyzed, #loss of autonomy, #possession, #catatonic

#punishments, #torture, #bullying, #abuse, #manhandling, #hair grabbing, #kneeling, #stepping on whumpee, #noncon touching, #sleep torture/sleep deprivation, #past torture, #tickle torture, #bruises, #injuries, #broken bones, #digging into injury, #scars, #broken bones, #electrocution, #drugged/drugging, #poisoning, #stress position, #beating(s), #slapping, #stripping, #whipping, #starvation, #strangling, #suffocation, #dehydration, #waterboarding, #branding, #tattooing, #scars, #emeto/vomiting, #noncon haircut, #noncon body modification, #experimentation, #amnesia, #sensory deprivation, #solitary confinement, #claustrophobia, #gunpoint, #curses, #sacrifices, #sickness, #being recorded, #being watched, #parting words regret, #transportation, #buying and selling, #on display, #used as target, #mutilation, #blood, #taking blood, #stabbing/impalement, #dismemberment, #gore, #permanent damage, #death, #resurrection, #came back wrong, #and i must scream

#chains, #ropes, #duct tape, #cages, #tiny cages, #cells, #two dimensional prisons, #muzzles, #blindfolds, #leashes, #collars, #head collar(s), #shock collars, #guns, #knives, #glass whump, #barbed wires, #cement, #hooks

#conditioning, #mind games, #manipulation, #self-deprecation, #self loathing, #self harm, #self sacrifice, #sacrifices, #screams, #sobbing, #resignation, #dehumanization, #humiliation, #shame, #infantilization, #degradation, #desperation, #fear, #pain, #rage, #trauma, #triggers, #vague discomfort, #distrust, #dazed, #dazed and confused, #disorientation, #delirium, #horrified, #mocking, #arguments, #betrayal, #guilt, #amnesia, #hallucinations, #exhaustion, #nightmares, #begging, #gaslighting, #abandonment/abandoned, #isolation, #unconscious, #insecurity, #threats, #hurtful words, #helplessness, #shutting down

#kidnapped, #captured, #trapped, #slavery, #body horror, #escape attempt, #rescue/rescued, #recovery, #aftermath whump, #hostage whump, #used as bait, #royal whump, #lab whump, #medical whump, #magic whump, #superhero whump, #pirate whump, #superpower whump, #superhealing whump, #undercover whump, #public whump, #public humiliation, #surprise whump, #pet whump, #wing whump, #water whump, #heat whump, #mouth whump, #eye whump, #hand whump, #domestic whump, #cybernetic(s) whump, #art whump, #performance whump, #cosmetic whump, #living weapon, #hurt/comfort, #parental whump, #family whump, #psychological whump, #emotional whump, #roleplay whump, #prison whump, #historical whump, #religious whump, #performance whump, #holiday whump, #team whump, #held for ransom, #gladiator whump, #time loop, #reality manipulation, #memory whump

#sickfic, #hypothermia

Archive

[seeminglydark]

how much of his experiences with Caro does Johnny remember rn in SD? Is he getting them back at all?

Spoileryish stuff under the cut for his memories

TL;DR: Initially he remembered almost nothing about it. But now, he remembers that they were a cheerleader and they were friends and he had feelings for them. He remembers the supernatural things. He remembers Caros family was horrible and he wanted to help them, and that he couldnt. He doesnt remember finer details. kisses or hand holding or that they dated. he knows these things because hes been told but the memories arent his right now. but things are coming back.

Long story long RIGHT now at this moment in SD, it still vague for him but he is slowly getting things back. He remembers a cheerleader (he makes reference to a 'cute little cheerleader' in the Creaky chapter that Caro confirms was in fact them.) PTSD, Trauma and brain damage from both abuse and actually physically dying for a short period all contribute to Johnny having a lot of blank spots and fuzzy details in his memories of childhood/teenagehood. He remembers Caro was his neighbor after he puts together that Caro and Carrie are the same person (which takes a bit longer for him since they look and sound a little different these days and his memory of them is distorted, he has no pictures or anything to remind him. There is a scene in Mil-Liminal where Maddie shows him a yearbook photo and at least the part that he knows them QUITE WELL comes crashing back.) He does not remember they did have a chance to become 'official,' and actually dated, it happened so close to his major injuries/brush with death, but he does know it happened at this point, cuz Caro's told him. Things do come back to him, if he's reminded, for instance, Caro being trans now reminds him they told him about it once when they were kids, that it was something he knew about. Caro having their attack the night he hangs out with them reminds him they've ALWAYS experienced the supernatural. he falls into patterns with them that he did when he was younger, such as the way he sings to them or held them because of habit and familiarity even if he doesnt exactly remember. He's slowly putting the pieces back together as they are presented to him. i was asked while writing this reply if he has sense memory, and yes, caros scent, the feel of them, songs they liked together, if he ever gets into the Datsun again, all those things play into it. He does NOT remember the pendant Caro wears. Or that he gave it to them. Or that it was even his. When Caro speaks of him in the podcast, and he listens to it, he does not realize its him they are talking about. When they tell him it was about him, he actually still has a hard time believing that someone could speak about HIM in such a poetic and yearning way. Theres many things he remembers, and many things he knows because hes been told, but he does still have a hard time distinguishing which is which. I do want to note that there is inconsistencies in SD when it comes to these two, mostly because their relationship wasnt actually supposed to be canon, and Caro wasnt supposed to be in SD at all, its been a fun challenge to tie things back together with it, when i first started making the comic, I decided I'd leave room in my narratives for me to be creative and change up original concepts and even the way i draw if i wanted too as long as the Main Story was consistent, which helps keep things fun to create for me, especially for something ive been working on for 6 years! I'm actually touching on Johns memories in i think next months episode of SD, (it can be read early on Tapas's Early access with ink right now) so theres definitely more about it coming up <3

-RJ

[rainroses45]

My Man?

d𐦍༘⋆description: Dean is leaving and wants to say one last goodbye at your performance. (Dean Winchester x Fem! Broadway Singer Reader)

w𐦍༘⋆warnings: curse words? I don’t know if that counts?

a𐦍༘a/n: this is inspired by glee and also by supernatural season 4 episode 13 and funny Funny Girl…i know this is a quick write but i’m trying to get back into this BEWARE I TRIED

s𐦍༘⋆ song inspiration: My Man - Barbra Streisand

A single wilted rose was all he could mange to find. One stupid, fucken, dying flower was his parting gift. He would say it was better than nothing, but he would be lying to himself. Eh who was he kidding, this is the most effort he had put into any romantic relationship besides baby, so this was considered grand enough.

It was his last night in town before he was off to torture another lonely soul with his precious green gaze. Leaving you in the wind as a forgotten memory. So why not leave his Juliet with one last final blow.

“Truly poetic Dean.” He thought before entering the auditorium. Thankfully the slamming of the doors, was tuned out by the singing montage on stage. God how he hated musicals, but he only attended them for you. Sure, he would always be late (he missed the entire show), but you never seemed to be bothered by it. You would fall for his every excuse, and false promise of being there to support you- maybe that’s why he liked you so much, you didn’t question, you didn’t beg, you didn’t cry for his attention - it was challenging in a way, like a lion convincing his prey to feast before death.

As he made his way down the steps he noticed the theater was full, every seat taken, every row filled with people dying to watch the lame ass musical. So he stood in the shadows, way in the back right next to the exit door - you know just in case.

It was after three songs that Dean started to contemplate whether he should just mail you the damn thing instead of watching flying flamingos in roller skates dance around in order to say goodbye.

It wasn’t until the stage went black and a spotlight hit you that he retracted his touch of the exit handle and gripped the rose tighter in his palm.

“Oh my man I love him so, he’ll never know,” you began to sing softly. Your hands twitch at your sides, fingers curling into the fabric of your dress.

He never did get to see or hear you sing before. You would ask how you did after every performance, he would lie and say you were gifted with the voice of heaven, but now - actually listening to you sing, heaven would be jealous.

As the song grew with power and emotion, he felt his chest tighten with anticipation, waiting for anything something to just release him from this choke hold you have of him.

“What the hell is wrong with me?” Dean whispered as he watched the girl he spent a year with dissolve on stage into a persona of character much resembling herself. This wasn’t like him. He wasn’t a lover boy, but a player who had the charm to protect his heart for a quickie. So why is he feeling so much when there was no time left for them?

“What's the difference if I say I'll go away? When I know I'll come back on my knees someday?” You cried out as the music hit its high.

And he feels it, fuck, every goddamn word punches him straight in the chest.

“For whatever my man is, I am his for ever more!!!” You belted out the last line. Your hands tremble at your sides, and your eyes, glistening under the spotlight, scanning the crowd—but you don’t look for applause. You’re looking for him. And in that flicker of a moment, both your eyes met.

The rose long forgotten on the floor as he applauded you - for the first and last time.

[femnoah]

TDWT supernatural au part 6

Masterpost

Warning- character death, description of injuries (though I won't go into a lot of detail.), bit of horror

So...London.

Instead of getting chased by someone dressed as jack the ripper, they have to hunt down and exorcise the real one. There were reports of women who were not married going missing and showing up dead with organs removed.

The team who finds the spirit of the ripper and exorcise it wins.

They do the challenge at night.

They're all given salt, holy water, a cross, chalk, a bible and walkie-talkies for everyone to communicate.

They split the teams in half.

Teams are:

Heather, Sierra and Cody

Courtney and Gwen

'Izzy' and Owen

'Noah' and Alejandro

DJ and Tyler

Leshawna and Lindsay

They all spilt off to go around white chapel.

Gwen and Courtney are joking together when Gwen stops walking.

"Hey, is everything ok?" Courtney asks

"I...I don't know, I just got a really bad feeling..." Gwen responded, looking around.

"Is it to do with your headache? You mentioned having one earlier, we can go get some medication for it"

"It's okay Courts, I'll be fine, it's probably nothing..."

"just tell me if it gets any worse okay?" Courtney smiled at her.

"Okay." Gwen smiled back.

Team Chris ('Izzy' refused to let 'Noah' out of her sight despite the fact they weren't paired together, she's been acting on edge and more twitchy than usual since Chris explained the challenge) find Gwen standing there in an alley looking like she's in a trance.

They all look at each other and Alejandro makes his way over.

"Gwen, mi amigo, are you alright..." He trails off as it sounds like she's muttering a response.

"...he's back, he's back, he's back, help us, you have to help us, he's back, the swallow can only sing to the flowers for so long, help us, please help us..."

She then stops, lifts her head up and screams. The already dim street lights burst and the glass windows of the buildings surrounding them shatter.

"What did she say?" Owen asks, terrified

"She mentioned something about swallows singing to the flowers?" It didn't make much sense.

'Izzy' and 'Noah' look at each other, clearly having worked it out. 'Noah' is the one who shares. "Swallow Gardens, it's not too far from here" with that she grabbed Alejandro's hand and started running out of the alley.

"IZZY, KEEP WATCH OVER GWEN, SHE'LL NEED PEOPLE THERE WHEN SHE WAKES UP, AND LOOK AFTER OWEN."

'Izzy' looks ansty "BUT-" She cuts herself off and looks at Gwen "FINE"

With that 'Izzy' and Owen stay with Gwen. 'Noah' and Alejandro run off to Swallow Gardens.

"She's a banshee" Alejandro stated, looking for confirmation.

"of banshee blood, probably pretty recent as well, mother or grandmother. If she was a banshee everybody in the vicinity's eardrums would have burst and the signs wouldn't have been as subtle" 'Noah' corrected.

It seemed that 'Izzy' had came to the same conclusion because Owen was speaking into the walkie talkie and informing everyone, the screaming still in the background. It got many exclamations and questions, specifically on what a banshee is. This time 'Izzy' replied.

"they're usually spirits of women who wail when a loved one is about to die. They're basically like a compass of soon to be deaths!"

Heather responds "you said Gwen was by herself, where's Courtney"

This time Alejandro answers "Me and Noah are making our way to her now."

"keep us updated" Leshawna sounded worried.

They get to Swallows Garden, jumping over the fence and there's a figure there standing over a body that's barely moving- Courtney.

They both run over to where Courtney is lying, somehow still alive despite the fact that her kidney and part of her intestines were no longer in her body.

The ripper's spirit moved backwards at the intrusion and 'Noah' immediately knelt down to start assess Courtney.

Alejandro stood between them and the spirit, reaching for the holy water and salt, being careful not to get any on him. It may not kill him but that doesn't mean it's not incredibly annoying.

The ripper's spirit seemed to have frozen before snarling out in disgust.

"YoU- yOu WaTcHeD aS tHeY dId tHiS tO mE. I wAs StOpPiNg ThE sPrEaD oF sIn!!! StOpPiNg ThOsE lUsT iNdUcInG dEmOnS aNd YoU mOnStErS kIlLeD mE. WhY aM i DeAd WhIlE yOu StIlL bReAtHe. WhY"

Before Alejandro could do anything or question it, it felt like the shadows around them became restless, the wind picking up whispers of "Mine, mine..." before it became a roaring chant of thousands, thrumming under his skull and everywhere around him.

The spirit had started screaming as it's form began bubbling and misshapen- as if it were alive. It started to look like it was being torn apart from the inside out and the shadows surrounding it curled around in mocking joy, everything becoming too bright, too much and yet it was almost blackening. The spirit was ripped to shreds, wailing in pain that it should have no longer felt. There was only one thing that would do that to another being, that could do that to another being.

Then there was a pop, and everything became still as if nothing happened. He could hear a dying heartbeat and turned back to face 'Noah' and Courtney. It looked like the latter's eyes had started to become glassy and her breathing was too shallow to last long. 'Noah' was trying to put her insides back inside the body, her hands covered in blood.

'Noah' looked shell shocked, "she's going to die"

"Mierda" he knelt down next to her.

"You're going to have to turn her" 'Noah' sighed, world weary.

"Did you not see what the Fae did to the ripper after he harmed her, what makes you think the same thing won't happen to me for biting her?!?!" He growled out. It was a genuine concern, especially after seeing something get torn apart and erased from existence like an eldritch horror.

"You've been allowed to feed from the cast and interns right? Guess what idiot, that also counts as hurting them. You haven't been killed for that yet so clearly the Fae likes you enough to give you permission to harm them!" She sounded incredibly annoyed at his reasoning.

He was going to respond when he felt a hand, still coated in blood, grab his jaw before he even saw it coming and his head was dragged down.

"Turn her"

It was insistent and heavy. So he did. 'Noah' helped him maneuver her and he bit down on the nape of her neck.

Courtney had stopped breathing but he had felt the bond solidify in place indicating she had turned and it had worked. It was odd, he shouldn't be able to feel the bond properly considering she technically belonged to another being but he did. Interesting.

It was then that the walkie-talkie buzzed "Gwen's stopped screaming" Owen, and he sounded concerned.

'Noah' answered this time. "Alejandro had to turn Courtney, she wouldn't have survived otherwise."

There was silence across it and Alejandro decided to chip in "we also found out that apparently Courtney was one of the marked, as well as what exactly happens to those who harm them"

Before anybody else could add anything Chris' voice rang out, overly enthusiastic despite the fact that they all knew he was watching what happened, especially with the poor camera men that follow them all around. "Challenge is finished passengers so make your way back to the plane so we can announce the winning team!"

Team Amazon won the challenge because technically jack the ripper wasn't exorcised and Gwourtney were the ones who found him. Or were found by him.

They all discuss what happened, everyone

"I don't know whether or not it's comforting to know if any of us were going to die here that we'd be brutally avenged" Cody jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

"Same bro" Tyler agrees and DJ nods his head in solidarity.

"I'd avenge you too Codykins!" Sierra exclaims

"is it bad that it's only feeling real now?" Owen still sounds shaken

"I just don't understand why the Fae isn't helping, if they're immortal and all-powerful or whatever then they should be the one dealing with all of this." Heather complains.

"literally, if I have to deal with another near death experience I'm going to scream." Leshawna adds.

This time it's Alejandro who glares at those who agree. "You are speaking as if you know anything about immortal beings, we are all bound by our nature mi amigos. Did you forget Izzy's warning? You are mortals. You have no right to comment on our ways. You are lucky enough that I am helping and I can assure you it is not because I want to. Do not push your luck any more."

Gwen goes to visit Courtney in the infirmary and everyone hears a loud yelp.

They all rush to the infirmary and Gwen's on the floor in shock, the side of her neck is heavily bleeding an Courtney is on top of her crying.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry.."

Alejandro, in a manner that he hasn't done before and despite his attitude from the earlier conversation, reaches for Courtney, gently helps her stand up and guides her to one of the beds to sit down.

Leshawna and Tyler help Gwen do the same and one of the interns starts tending to her neck.

"I don't know why I did that, why did I do that?" Courtney begs the only other vampire. "Oh god my parents are going to kill me, they're going to kick me out, they hate me enough already." She starts to panic. It's only stopped when Alejandro puts a hand on the back of her neck, catching her attention.

"you're newly turned so your instincts are running wild, not to mention you died quite traumatically. You just wanted to keep Gwen safe and feed, it's quite normal."

"it's normal..." She repeated.

Alejandro turns to Gwen and grins at her sharply. "Now then, welcome to the family, daughter-in-law."

"WHAT" nearly everyone exclaims.

"I did explain bite placements, no?"

Courtney, not surprisingly, looks incredibly put out. "Are you trying to tell me you're my dad now????" She very notably ignored the whole supernaturally married part.

"Technically I have only joint custody over you due to the Fae thing but don't you worry mi querida hija, I am in the middle of ...fixing... that little problem"

So yeah, Courtney dies, becomes a vampire and gets parents and a wife out of it as compensation!

What the majority of the cast are aware of so far:

DJ- werewolf

Leshawna- human

Lindsay- guardian angel

Tyler- human

Alejandro- vampire

'Noah'- human

'Izzy'- Fae?

Owen- human

Heather- demon contract

Courtney- vampire

Gwen- banshee blood

Sierra- human

Cody- human

Chris- Djinn blood

Chef- human

I wonder if anyone spotted the minor death flags, I assure you that every conversation the characters have has another meaning behind it, some are clues, some are foreshadowing... Some are just an excuse to make jokes. Lets see if anyone can guess which other character has had death flags in the past couple of posts ;)

Also if you have any questions about the characters or backstories or world building stuff or anything like that then don't be afraid to ask, if I'm not planning on posting them then I'll reply with them and if I am then I'll tell you what post I'll be putting them in so you know which one to look out for!

[tarotwithavi]

Which Pokemon would you be and why? Pt1

Piles : from left to right

How to choose a pile?

Close your eyes and take a deep breath and ask the angels to show you the right pile for you and open your eyes. The first pile that catches your attention is the right pile for you.

Masterlist

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Pile 1

You would be Bulbasaur because you're known for your balanced and practical nature. Like Bulbasaur, you are someone who approaches challenges with a steady determination and a sense of responsibility. You too have a nurturing side, just as Bulbasaur carries a plant bulb on its back, symbolizing growth and care. This means you are likely to be a supportive and dependable friend, always looking out for the well-being of those around you. Your curiosity and willingness to learn and adapt, much like Bulbasaur's evolution, would make you open to new experiences and always eager to grow as a person.

Pile 2

You would be Pikachu because you're someone who is endlessly energetic, optimistic, and fiercely loyal. You have an infectious enthusiasm for life, always ready to take on new challenges with a smile. You are a natural leader, inspiring others with their determination and never-give-up attitude. Just like Pikachu's iconic thunderbolt-shaped tail, you too possess a spark of creativity and adaptability, making you quick to come up with solutions in times of need. Your sense of camaraderie would shine through in their friendships, as you prioritize the well-being of your loved ones and stand by their side through thick and thin.

Pile 3

You would squirtle because you're a spirited and adventurous individual. Much like Squirtle's water-based abilities, you would have a natural affinity for aquatic activities and a love for the outdoors. You'd be the type of person who enjoys spending sunny days by the beach, participating in water sports, or simply splashing around in a pool. Your outgoing and sociable nature would make you a natural leader among your friends, just as Squirtle often takes the lead within its squad of Pokémon. Despite your playful and energetic demeanor, you'd also have a strong sense of responsibility and would stand up to protect those you care about, just as Squirtle is known for its loyalty and courage.

Pile 4

You would be Snortax because you're incredibly laid-back and relaxed. You're the embodiment of the phrase "easygoing." Because you prioritize leisure and comfort above all else, often opting for long naps and hearty meals. You might give the impression of someone who enjoys indulging in life's pleasures. You might not be in a hurry to get things done and could be a bit slow-moving, but you're incredibly kind-hearted and approachable, always willing to share a meal or offer a comfy spot to rest. Just like Snorlax, you have a gentle and affable nature, making you a beloved presence in any group.

Pile 5

You would be jigglypuff because of your charming, social, and deeply artistic personality. Jigglypuff is known for its soothing singing and ability to put others to sleep, so you may embody a calming and enchanting presence. You are someone who enjoys entertaining others with their talents, whether through music, storytelling, or other forms of artistic expression. Jigglypuff's friendly demeanor and ability to make friends easily would translate into you being outgoing, empathetic, and values strong connections with others. However, you might also have a mischievous side, as Jigglypuff is known for drawing on the faces of those it puts to sleep, showcasing a playful and creative streak.

Pile 6

You would be Gengar because you are an individual with a dark and enigmatic aura. You have a mischievous and cunning personality, often enjoying playing pranks and indulging in a dark sense of humor. You might have a penchant for the mysterious and eerie, with a love for all things spooky and supernatural. Despite your eerie exterior, you are fiercely loyal to your friends and loved ones, always ready to protect them in times of need. Others might notice you lurking in the shadows, observing the world with a sly grin, but your loyalty and dedication would shine through when it truly matters.

[twshipoftheday]

Teen Wolf Ship of the Day, March 30th

Kate Argent x Natalie

Life was strange but love was stranger. Natalie had never expected to find love after her divorce but Kate snuck up on her. Kate's love snuck up on her and Natalie accepted it.

Headcanons under the cut.

Kate is more often the big spoon but sometimes Natalie will enjoy holding Kate in her arms

Natalie's chemistry expertise makes her an incredible baker but a subpar cook

Kate is so insanely protective of Natalie and wouldn't ever let any part of the supernatural world affect her partner

Both of them love to travel but Natalie's job as principal makes it challenging to do so often, so they take really long and beautiful summer break vacations to other countries and spend all of it with each other, just chilling and immersing themselves in the new culture

Kate loves to serenade Natalie with her favourite love songs, she can't play an instrument nor does Kate sing so it usually comes in the form of entering a room with the song playing on Spotify while Kate lip-synchs to it

Both of them enjoy cuddling and picnics, they're both very much in love with each other and try their best to go on dates as often as possible/

[hearmeoutworthypoll]

poewk from my singing monsters

A supernatural monster exclusive to Wublin Island

Poewk's song is that of an electric sounding Pipe Organ, specifically in the "organo pleno" registration.

Poewk cannot be bred. Like all Wublins, it is bought at the Market as an inactive statue that must be woken up.

It has a low currency production compared to other Wublins.

Hobbies include competitive keyboarding and embroidery club.

Can crotchet a vest in record time (Yet kindly refrains from doing so).

It is unwise to challenge Poewk to a dance-off.

Reminder, the premise is “would a normie think it’s weird to find them attractive?” (Would they have to “hear me out?”) NOT “smash-or-pass”