#Supernatural Scribe
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Author in the Making
Words: 3,286
POV: 3rd Person
Pairing: Sam Winchester x Male!Reader [Preestablished]
Warning(s): None
Summary: The reader loves to write, and he has kept it a secret from his book-loving boyfriend for the longest time, fearing his reaction. What happens when his boyfriend accidentally stumbles upon the document that the reader had been working on for the past several years? How will he react?
The time was 11:53 PM.
The Winchesters had long since retired to their rooms for the night, leaving (Y/N) alone in the library. His laptop rested on the wooden table in front of him, a small notebook open to his right with a variety of pen colors scattered over the pristine white paper. (Y/N)’s fingers worked rapidly against the keys on the keyboard, his eyes glued to the screen as the words appeared on the Word document.
For years, (Y/N) had a dream. That dream was to become an author. He had been interested in books ever since he was a little kid, the first book he had ever read was Of Mice and Men when he was in the second grade. Ever since, he introduced himself to a wide array of authors across different genres, taking in all of their writing styles and techniques. As he got older, he knew he wanted to be just like the authors that wrote some of his favorite books. He wanted to have his name on the shelves of hundreds, potentially thousands, of people around the world. He wanted to be the inspiration for another young writer, just like the authors before him. He wanted to be the reason people got back into reading and writing.
However, being a hunter meant that (Y/N)’s schedule was random. He never had a set time where he could sit down and write what he wanted to. The book that he was working on was a couple of years in the making, after all. With all the cases and personal issues that seemed to pop up constantly around himself and the Winchesters, he knew that he would have to improvise at times when it came to his writing. While nothing was set in stone, he had made some adjustments to his everyday life so that he was able to get some writing done every day.
On long car rides, when they were driving to or from a case, he would bring out his phone and jot down any ideas that he had. Occasionally, he would get up early in the morning to guarantee that he added something to his word count. Some nights, if the day had been busy, he would stay up later than Sam and Dean to get his thoughts onto paper as quickly as he could.
Sure, it was exhausting at times. He craved the warm feeling of his bed underneath him and the soft sensation of a pillow resting beneath his head, but he knew that if he didn’t write, he would go insane, and he would rather be sane and tired than energetic and crazy.
After what he assumed was, twenty minutes of non-stop typing, (Y/N) leaned back in his chair, reaching his arms above his head to stretch his back. He clenched and unclenched his hands, feeling the muscles in them tightening from being overworked. Then, he did something that he had promised himself before his writing session that he wouldn’t do.
He looked at the time.
The time was 1:40 AM.
It had been longer than he thought. When he saw the time, he felt a yawn building up inside of him. Suddenly, he comprehended just how tired he was. His eyes began to droop and his entire body felt as if there was a weight of a thousand pounds resting on it. He glanced down at the writing in his journal for a moment before another yawn escaped him. He cursed under his breath.
(Y/N) turned back to the computer, placing his hands on the keys for a moment to read over the paragraph he had just completed. He read it a couple of times, yet his fingers would not move, no matter how much he tried to convince himself he knew what he should write next. Nothing was coming out. So, all he did was stare at the screen in front of him. He sighed.
“(Y/N)?” A deep, tired voice came from beside him.
(Y/N) jumped as he placed his hand over his chest, turning to look at the person who spoke. Sam stood there, clad in a long-sleeve night shirt and sweatpants. His hair was slightly tousled and he seemed as if he had just woken up. (Y/N) let out a shaky breath.
“Jesus, Sam, you scared the Hell out of me,” he said.
Sam chuckled as he took a couple of steps through the threshold of the library. “Sorry,” he mumbled as he ran his fingers through his hair. “What’re you still doing up?”
“Um…” (Y/N) trailed as he glanced between Sam and the document in front of him. He rubbed his hands together before he shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep,” he replied, which was followed by another long, dramatic yawn.
Sam raised his brows as a small, amused smirk made its way onto his lips. He gestured behind him towards the room. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go to bed. I can tell you’re exhausted.”
(Y/N) inhaled deeply and ran a hand over his face, giving a small nod. “Alright, yeah, yeah, you’re right,” he mumbled as he reached forward, saving the document before closing the laptop.
(Y/N) stood and grabbed his laptop, journal, and pens. He stuffed the pens into his pocket, tucked his journal underneath his arm, and held his laptop close to his chest. He pushed his chair up to the table before he tiredly shuffled over to Sam. Sam couldn’t help but smile warmly as he watched him. When (Y/N) moved next to him, Sam placed his hand on the small of his back and pressed a kiss to his temple.
“What were you working on anyway? Research?” Sam asked as the two of them began to make their way down the hallway toward their bedroom.
(Y/N) glanced up at him before shrugging his shoulders. “Something like that.”
(Y/N) had never told anyone about his dream. It was always something that he had kept a secret. He knew about the history that Sam and Dean had with the prophet Chuck, he had even read a couple of the books that Chuck had written, and the last thing (Y/N) wanted was for them to think that he was just like him. Nothing that he wrote had anything to do with the hunting life. He needed an escape from the life at times, and creating his own realities was a way for him to get out of it.
A part of him knew that, if he were to tell Sam and Dean, they would be supportive of his efforts. Even so, with the lack of schedule that he had created for himself, and with him being on only the first draft of his novel, he didn’t want any expectations put on him for them to read what he had written. Perhaps he was overthinking it. He had considered it a couple of times, but he always told himself that it was better to be safe than sorry.
Sam gave him a smile before they entered the bedroom. (Y/N) walked over to the small desk that was located in the corner of the room and sat his laptop next to Sam’s, placing his journal and pens on top of the computer. He plugged in his laptop, ensuring that the charging light was on before he walked over to the bed. Just looking at the bed, (Y/N) craved the feeling of the soft comforter around him. His body felt heavier than ever.
As Sam crawled into the bed, (Y/N) stripped himself of his shirt, tossing it onto the ground, vowing that he would pick it up in the morning once he was well-rested. He then crawled into bed next to his boyfriend. It didn’t take them long to press their bodies against one another, their arms wrapping around each other’s middles and their legs tangling together. (Y/N) felt a sense of relief hit him at the embrace. With a smile on his face, Sam pressed a kiss to (Y/N)’s forehead.
“Goodnight,” he said in a soft tone.
“Goodnight,” (Y/N) whispered back to him.
It didn’t take long before exhaustion overtook him. His eyelids fell shut as he allowed his body to relax. His breathing steadied and he felt himself slowly drift off into a peaceful slumber.
The next morning, (Y/N) stirred when he felt the bed shift underneath him. He inhaled sharply as a warm hand reached up and caressed his bare arm gingerly. He furrowed his brows and slowly opened his eyes. The room was still dark thanks to the lack of windows in the bunker, the only light being from the bedroom door, which stood ajar. Looking up, (Y/N) could see the dark outline of his boyfriend standing over him.
“Sorry to wake you, sweetheart,” Sam whispered, a chuckle following his words.
(Y/N) groaned. “What time is it?” He asked, his voice sounding as if he was still half-asleep.
“About eleven. You can go back to sleep, I know you were up really late. I was just wondering if I could use your computer for research. I forgot to plug mine in last night and the battery is completely dead.”
(Y/N) raised his brows as he reached over to the nightstand and picked up his cell phone. Turning on the screen, he squinted at the bright light and read the time.
The time was 11:24 AM.
(Y/N) had slept for almost ten hours.
“Holy shit,” he grumbled. He put his phone down and stretched. “Why did you let me sleep so late?”
“You seemed tired,” Sam answered, and (Y/N) could tell that he was smiling by the way he spoke. Sam reached up and gently ran his fingers through (Y/N)’s hair. “Plus, you’re really cute when you’re sleeping.”
“That’s a little gay, don’t you think?” (Y/N) smirked.
“Maybe a little,” Sam chuckled before he leaned down and pressed a kiss to his lips softly. “Do you mind if I use your laptop?”
“Sure, sure, yeah. I don’t mind.”
“Thank you. Are you going to go back to sleep?”
(Y/N) shook his head, yawning as he did so. “No. I need to get up. I’ll be out there in a little bit.”
“Alright, I’ll be in the library when you want to join me.”
“Sounds good, and just go ahead and leave the door open. The light will keep me awake.”
Sam gave a slight nod. He stood up from the bed, walked over to the desk, unplugged (Y/N)’s laptop, and made his way to the door. He propped the door open a little bit more before he moved down the hallway. Once he was out of his line of sight, (Y/N) stretched his arms above his head, letting out a small groan as his muscles began to wake up.
Ten minutes later, (Y/N) was awake enough to get up. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, stretched his arms once more, then stood up. He walked over to the shirt that he had discarded on the floor the night before and put it back on. When he was fully clothed, he left the room, closing the door behind him.
The faint smell of coffee still wafted through the air as he made his way into the kitchen. He could see there was still a tiny amount of coffee left from the pot that had been made that morning and he thanked the Lord that he had been so lucky. He grabbed a mug from the cabinet and placed his hand on the side of the pot, feeling the warm heat radiating off of the glass. He decided that it was still hot enough to where he didn’t have to warm it up. He poured the remainder of the coffee into his cup before he walked over to the fridge. He put his favorite creamer and some sugar into the cup, stirring it lightly with a spoon until the color and consistency was one he desired.
When he was finished making his cup, he turned his back toward the kitchen counter and leaned against it. He took a sip, a small shiver running down his spine when the warm beverage coated his taste buds. (Y/N) basked in the comforting warmth for a moment before he took another sip. He stood in the kitchen for a couple of minutes, enjoying the peaceful silence.
(Y/N) pushed himself off of the counter and finally began to make his way toward the library. When he rounded the corner, he saw Sam sitting at the table, in the same spot that he had sat the night before. His eyes were glued to the computer screen in front of him, brows slightly furrowed in a concentrated expression. His left hand rested against his face while his right made small movements against the mousepad. A smile found its way onto (Y/N)’s face as he walked closer to Sam, moving to stand behind his chair. He placed one hand on his back as he leaned down and pressed a small kiss against Sam’s temple.
“So, what’re you-” (Y/N) started to ask before he stopped abruptly.
What he had assumed would be research on the screen at first was nowhere close to what was staring back at him. The smile slowly fell from his lips as he skimmed over the familiar words.
It was his novel.
He had forgotten to close it the night before.
Sam looked up at (Y/N) and cleared his throat. “Uh, um…you, uh…did you write this?” He asked, his voice and expression matching that of a child who was caught with their hand in the cookie jar before dinner.
(Y/N) licked his lips nervously as he shuffled a bit behind Sam. “Uh…yeah…” he said, his voice filled with uncertainty.
“I didn’t know you wrote. I mean, I knew you liked to read and that’s one of the things that I love about you, but I never knew you wrote your own stuff.”
“Well, I just…dabble here and there. It’s nothing really-”
“I like it.” Sam interrupted.
(Y/N) looked down at Sam, their eyes connecting. “Really?” He asked, surprised.
Sam nodded. “Yeah! I mean, I’m only on the second chapter, but the first chapter pulled me in,” Sam gave a small smirk as he chuckled.
Slowly, a smile made its way onto (Y/N)’s lips. He walked over, pulled the chair out that rested beside Sam, and sat down. He took another sip of his coffee.
“You haven’t gotten to anything important, yet. Trust me. It’s still in the works. This is only the first draft.”
“How long have you been working on this?”
“Two years? Maybe three, give or take. I’m not able to write all the time and sometimes I can be slow, especially if I decide to write after we finish a hunt.”
“You’ve got a lot written here,”
“Almost ninety-thousand words,” (Y/N) gave a brief nod. “It’s still not what I want it to sit at, but it’s coming along.”
“How many more chapters do you think you’ll need to finish it?”
“I don’t know,” he chuckled. “I’m writing the finale at the moment, but I guess it depends on if I want to add anything. Of course, I’m going to be taking some parts out and putting some other parts in that I had written down and thought of as I was writing, so I don’t know what the final word count will be, but I’m impressed with myself so far.”
“You should be!” Sam smiled as he reached over and placed a hand comfortingly on (Y/N)’s leg, rubbing his knee gently. “Why didn’t you tell me you liked to write?”
(Y/N) stared at the table for a moment before he shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. I think the stories you told about your interaction with Chuck made me not say anything at first.”
“I hope you know that I wouldn’t have given you a hard time about this.”
“I know, I know,” (Y/N) nodded slowly. “Plus, I think that if I would have said something, I would have felt pressured to finish quicker than what I wanted because, knowing you, you would have asked to see what I had written.”
Sam smirked and chuckled. “I would.”
“And I would have to burst your bubble and say ‘No’ because I wanted to finish everything and go over everything before I let you look.”
Sam nodded. “I understand…” he trailed as he glanced back at the page that he was on. “Were you ever going to tell me?”
(Y/N) hummed as he took another sip of his coffee. “Probably. I do need help proofreading. Plus, I need an audience’s reaction. I already messaged Charlie and she said that she would give it a read when I was done.”
“So Charlie knew about it before me?” Sam asked exaggeratedly, placing a hand delicately on his chest to feign hurt.
(Y/N) snorted and rolled his eyes. “Yes, and she doesn’t bug me about it like I knew you would. She likes reading from time to time, but, and I’m sorry to say this Sam, but you are a book whore.” He chuckled.
“You know what? I take that as a compliment.” Sam said, tilting his head up in a proud manner.
“As you should.” (Y/N) leaned back in his seat, getting comfortable.
Sam licked his bottom lip as he glanced between (Y/N) and the computer screen. After a moment of hesitation, he asked, “Can I finish this chapter?”
(Y/N) pursed his lips in contemplation, furrowing his brows together. He reached over, saved the document, and then exited out of it. “No.”
Sam’s shoulders slumped. “Come on,” he groaned.
“Sorry, Sammy, but maybe you should read faster next time.”
Sam sighed heavily and shook his head before he turned his body back towards the table. He paused for a minute. “Do you feel like writing right now?”
(Y/N) smirked and shook his head. “I need to relax for a little bit. I stayed up late last night writing.”
Sam nodded. “Do you promise you’ll let me read it once it’s done?”
“Sam, as soon as I am finished with the first draft and go over everything, I will print out all of the pages for you so that you can read it. That way I can make my revisions while you read over it. Deal?”
Sam smiled. “Deal.” He said as he leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “You’re going to be one hell of an author, babe,”
(Y/N) smiled. “Thank you, Sammy.” He said. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Sam never realized how much those words meant to (Y/N). Sure, there was a part of him that thought those words to be true, but the other part of him was doubting himself every step of the way. Still, he persisted, working as hard as he could toward the dream that he wanted to become a reality. In that moment, (Y/N) knew that, if Sam Winchester believed that he was going to be a good author, then he was destined to be.
(Y/N) sat his coffee mug down on the table and gestured towards the computer.
“On second thought, let me have my computer,” he said, the smile still present on his lips. “I think I found my new inspiration.”
#Supernatural#Sam Winchester#Sam Winchester x Reader#Sam Winchester x Male!Reader#Sam Winchester Oneshot#Sam Winchester Imagine#SPN#SPN Imagine#Male!Reader#Supernatural x Reader#Supernatural x Male Reader#Sam Winchester x Male Reader#Supernatural Scribe#Supernatural Imagine
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the broccoli arc is what you'd get if you combined Small Gods with the Not What He Seems portal scene and parts of Ptolemy's Gate and then shook the whole thing up in an evil Fedco Seeds catalog and this is why I'm going to be insane about it for the rest of my life
#takes several themes and concepts i've been obsessed about for years and but them in a blender and then adds EVIL VEGETABLES#THE POWER OF BELIEF#THE POWER OF TRUST#BOYS AND SUPERNATURAL ENTITIES WHO ARE FRIENDS!!!!#BRASSICAS!!!#these are the things that will make a Scribe lose ser mind forever#mob talk
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Happy STS! I hope you’ve had a good week :D your OCs all go to the beach together, how do each of them spend the day?
Hey! Happy extremely late STS!
Considering the amount of character Lexical has, I'll do a couple groups rather than them as individuals.
Smith and Lang PI inc: Going to the beach was all Ashley's idea, and she is actually having fun with it. Sam is attempting to brood, but as he gets progressively more drunk he starts to actually enjoy himself and wades in the water. Richard is having an existential crisis from his beach related trauma and is manically trying to hide it by faking having a great time.
The Ethical Cult TM : Assuming post story- they are vibing as a group singing and drinking. They would end up making an extremely impressive sand castle via their collective Wyrd powers. Joshua switching between fretting over everyone and being reminded to relax.
Civil Disobedience: Accidental/on purpose shit-stirrers of the beach. Riffles is off bothering people and doing magic tricks for attention. Gearshift would industrialize the process of making a sandcastle and would turn into heavy machinery to do it; Aejion would give moral support/try to be useful. Siren would sunbath with her thrupple and use her mind control to keep the group out of trouble.
#writeblr#lexical earth#Scribe Answers#writers on tumblr#samuel smith#Richard the Robin#civil disobedience#Broken Whole#Imagining all three of these groups next to eachother#Narrative weight almost breaking the beach#As these dozen or so supernaturally powerful individuals vibe#Technically there is a point in time when they could all meet#But at the very least Sam wouldn't exactly be “Sam” anymore
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I love this show.
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Forgot I turned on a K-drama and spent a solid minute trying to figure out which episode of supernatural this was
#geese.txt#in my defense ive been binge watching supernatural recently jsgdjdgd#but i was trying to find that one k drama where the girl gets sent back in time#and she pretends to be a boy and works as the kings scribe or consort or something#bc i couldn't remember the name of it#anyway the one i found isnt that kdhdkfh
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November 27, 2022
Happy 69 Birthday to Curtis Armstrong.
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Hi!
I have been following this blog for a while now and I love using it to find new podcasts. I was wondering, if you have time, what you think is the scariest podcast you've listened to or what your favorite horror podcasts might be? Thank you, and I hope you have a great day :)
I'm so glad to have helped you find new shows!
I don't really get scared by horror podcasts (not sure why. It isn't some "I'm tough" thing, I get startled by the toaster, and it's not like I never feel unsettled or concerned or icked out at podcasts, just not scared) so I'm not sure I can give you a good answer on that one, but I'll gladly give you ten of my personal favourites instead:
Alice Isn't Dead: The podcast that got me into podcasts. A truck driver travels the USA looking for her wife, who until recently, she had thought was dead. Along the way she has all manner of strange encounters, and sees a side to the world that few truely comprehend.
Archive 81: A young archivist takes a job at a remote outpost organising and digitising a collection of tapes. On the tapes is a series of interviews and investigations made by a social worker in the 90s as she becomes familiar with a bizzare apartment building. The archivist, naturally, has an increasingly bad time. Each season is part of the same story, but they're all a bit different.
Ghost Wax: Recorded interviews conducted by the last surviving necromancer, and various people who died under seemingly otherworldly circumstances.
Hello From The Hallowoods: Supernatural and cosmic horror. A powerful and dramatic entity visits your nightmares to relay stories of the people (to varying degrees of both human and alive) who inhabit the beautiful and deadly Hallowoods. What start off as individual stories quickly connect to a larger narrative.
Hi Nay: A supernatural horror following a young woman named Mari, who's babaylan (shaman) family background draws her into helping people with various horrific supernatural problems around Toronto. Formatted as phone calls to her mother telling her what's happened.
I Am In Eskew: Often-horrific stories from a man living in something that very much wishes to be a city, and a private investigator who was, in her words, hired to kill a ghost. Many people seem to agree this one is scary.
Janus Descending: A xenoarcheologist and a xenopaleontologist are sent to investigate and sample the ruins of a long-dead alien city, and discover more than they anticipated. The format for this one is really clever: you hear her audio logs first to last, and his last to first, and the story is all the more heartbreaking for it. I'd recommend listening to the supercut.
The Lost Cat Podcast: A man befriends strange entities, loses bits of himself and drinks an awful lot of wine while looking for his cat. Soft and cosmic horror.
The Moon Crown: The shortest on this list, but also one of the most fascinating. A disgraced scribe living in a city of humans, beasts, and other bizzare entities, begins to recount recent happenings, and actions she has a hard time explaining, on broadcast. But the people she's hoping to reach might not be the ones listening.
The Silt Verses: In a modern world where gods are plentiful, both illicit and commercialised, two disciples of an outlawed river god go on a pilgrimage.
Although, maybe some other listeners can help me out and share what scared them?
#Please do note that these are not necessarily the *best* horror podcasts. They're my favourites.#audio drama#alice isn't dead#archive 81#ghost wax#hello from the hallowoods#hi nay#i am in eskew#janus descending#the lost cat podcast#the moon crown#the silt verses#Or like. Some of my favourites.#hopefully this all makes sense I am sleepytired
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vampire bf!Alhaitham headcanons
tw: blood consumption (not fatal), mentions of menstruation, dom!Alhaitham, sub!fem reader, manhandling, aftercare, some fluff - minors dni.
scribe's note: yay i exist!
taglist: @aliceu @suave-ayato
©nerd-haitham, 2023. No reposting allowed. No translations allowed without permission.
vampires are scary, okay? they just ARE
which makes alhaitham even scarier
but not to you - he's still your beloved (not so) feeble scholar, whether he has blooshot eyes and elongated fangs and the whole vampire starter kit
your boyfriend on the other hand, seems to be enjoying it a lot more than he's supposed to
meaning he gets to sleep in during the mornings and go to the Akademiya during night time when there's little to no people left and get a day's workload done in a few hours
which means he gets to go home before the crack of dawn and get some cuddle time with you before you have to get up
he still enjoys humane food, especially coffee
blood is....well, an addition to his palate
nsfw under the cut!
despite looking stoic, alhaitham actually very open and comfortable with you and his vampiric characteristics
his favorite past time is when you play with his sharp canines, as you slowly drag your fingerstips over his pearly whites, occasionally teasing him by putting your thumb on his tongue
he's no better than you though - judging from the way he looks at you when he wraps his lips around your digit to suck on it
a very successful way to make him horny
speaking of vampires
they also have supernatural physical strength
which means he can mandhandle you in the speed of light
and have his way with you aka bully his cock when he has you pinned on the nearest surface
you have to beg him to bite you right before your climax hits bcs he doesn't want to hurt you
but you're squeezing him so tight and your pussy is so warm around him that he can't help but give in and bite down on your shoulder, letting his aphrodisiac venom seepinto your body, instantly making you cum
he cums right after, the sweet taste of your blood sending him into overdrive, eyes flashing bright red during his own orgasm
he's extremely meticulous and careful with the aftercare and makes sure the spot on your shoulder is closed up and cleaned up
he's not God's strongest soldier during your periods. HE'S NOT IT.
your hormones and the scent of your blood test his patience on a daily basis and he REALLY has to hold himself from losing control, despite being a man with lots of self control
but on the other hand, he knows you're having it way worse than him and he doesn't really have it in his heart to leave you alone
he just grits his teeth (hehe) and bears through it (a perfect streak so far)
#📗: scribe's stories#alhaitham fluff#alhaitham smut#genshin smut#genshin fluff#alhaitham#genshin impact smut#genshin impact fluff#tw blood#tw periods
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If you've ever wanted to know about our Curse of Strahd campaign this is a summary of everything so far. We have been playing for over a year so it's a very long read!
We are about halfway through the campaign so there are still a few major plot points and important NPCs that we have not encountered yet so please no spoilers in any tags, questions or responses!
Our campaign has a few added homebrew elements, extended lore from the novels and some NPCs that have been added/changed by our DM so some things will vary from the source book!
Disclaimers: Spoilers below the cut for major Curse of Strahd plot points in Vallaki, Argynvostholt, Dinner at Ravenloft, Wizard of Wines and more.
Our party members:
Benoit - Tiefling Druid (Circle of Stars)
Silas Shaw - Human Wizard (Order of Scribes)
Lucius “Thornhill”- Aasimar Paladin (Oath of devotion) (+ his golden retriever summoned familiar called Dog)
Benoit was looking for a way into Barovia Valley to search for his missing mentor who was looking into the situation happening with the Dusk Elves.
Lucius, a paladin with a sordid past, was following a mysterious letter from a “Kolyan Indirovich” who apparently needed help to save the love of his life.
Silas was desperately trying to get out of the city after escaping his abusive mother who kept him sick and locked in their dilapidated home, while also hoping to get any information about his absent wizard father.
ENTERING BAROVIA
The party started their journey at the Elfsong Tavern in Balder’s Gate.
The unlikely group of three made their way into Barovia Valley, following the road until they were quickly lost in the mists.
While camping on the first night, Silas had a very vivid dream of being trapped back in his house. He had lost the ability to walk again and had to crawl through a pool of blood to rescue his father’s spellbook that had been cast into the fire.
On the road, the party discovered the body of a dead man. His pockets contained another version of Kolyan’s letter (seemingly the real one) detailing a vampire attack on his daughter Ireena Kolyana.
The group arrived in Barovia Village where they met Ismark at the Blood of the Vine Tavern. Discovering that his father Kolyan (The Burgomaster of Barovia Village) had recently died, drunk and distressed, Ismark further explained the attacks from Strahd von Zarovich (A vampire and the dark lord of Barovia Valley) on his sister Ireena.
The party agreed to help Ismark bury his father and assist in finding a safer place for Ireena to stay.
While staying in the Burgomaster’s house. Luci experienced a dream in a beautiful church, where a faceless man stood in the flames of a burning pyre. The figure invited Luci to come and sit with him.
The group assisted Ireena and Ismark in getting their father’s coffin to the local church and there they met Father Donovich. After hearing screaming from the floor beneath, Ismark attempted to force his way into the cellar and Donovich started to grapple him. Silas cast levitate on Father Donovich, sending him high into the rafters of the church. The group discovered Doru in the basement, Donovich’s son who had been turned into a vampire spawn.
With the horrible condition Doru was in the party decided that a mercy killing was the only solution. The party locked a crying Donovich in a spare room and sent Ismark and Ireena outside. Silas firmly stayed upstairs while Luci and Benoit went down to put Doru out of his misery.
Doru fought back, making an escape for the stairs and scaring the absolute shit out of Silas who then cast fireball for the first time. This completely annihilated Doru. His burning corpse tumbled down the stairs and landed right at Lucius’s feet, a vivid memory of the burning man from his dream resurfacing.
In a solemn mood, the party burned what remained of Kolyan and Doru in the graveyard.
A supernatural mist surrounded the party and large wolves began to attack. Combat commenced and after the fight, the party got their first glance of Strahd. He appeared on horseback from a distance before turning and leaving.
OLD BONEGRINDER
The group decided to head towards Vallaki, in hopes that the Church of St Andral would be consecrated ground where Ireena would be safe from Strahd.
The party encountered a woman selling “Dream Pies” to soulless people. They saw a couple give their child to the woman in exchange for pies and the little girl was thrown into a sack.
Lucius insisted that the party needed to intervene and much to Silas’s annoyance, they followed the woman towards the mill known as Old Bonegrinder.
Just outside of Old Bonegrinder, the party discovered their first megalith and saw that the shrine was desecrated with teeth. A very large raven flew over and was clearly trying to communicate something about the teeth to the party.
The group stormed into Old Bonegrinder and began combat with two hags, the third one apparently still out.
During combat the party realised that one of the Hags had turned herself into Ismark, shoving the real Ismark into the oven.
After dragging Ismark out of the oven and saving him by mere seconds, the party managed to make it out alive as the entire Bonegrinder burnt to the ground. Luckily saving the little girl in the process.
Running over from the megalith, the raven turned into a person and the party met Falkon Targolov for the first time. A wereraven and relative of the Martikov family. He said he was planning to take down the hags himself and that he worked for a group called the Keepers of the Feather.
VALLAKI
The group agreed to meet with Falkon later at the Bluewater Inn and before long, finally arrived in Vallaki.
They made a very quick beeline to the Church of St Andral, but were surprised by the four fresh gravestones out front that listed everyone's names, excluding Ireena.
As soon as Luci’s familiar was able to cross the threshold of the church, being a demonic creature, Luci could immediately sense that the church was not consecrated.
Lucius spoke with Father Lucien Petrovich, inquiring about the graves and asking if he could take in the little girl with the other orphans at the church.
Father Lucien explained that the graves were recently commissioned and he would look into the records. Sensing that Luci was a man of god, he admitted that the bones of St Andral that usually kept the church consecrated had been stolen.
Silas attempted to have a conversation with a boy called Milivoj who was digging the graves and completely embarrassed himself.
While heading to the inn, the group walked past the Burgomaster's mansion and saw a bright pink flash of energy from the attic. Silas recognised the flash as a spell going off and was immediately intrigued.
Outside the inn the party saw a colourful caravan with "Rictavio's Carnival of Wonders" painted on the side. Silas attempted to look inside but bailed when he heard a growl from behind the bars.
The party met the owners of the Bluewater Inn, Urwin and Danika Martikov and their sons - all wereravens like Falkon.
Falkon arrived soon after looking battered, carrying an ancient looking book. He had apparently defeated the last hag by himself.
Falkon took them up to his room in the cramped attic called the Raven Loft. Silas asked hesitantly, “Do you… pay to live here?” And Falkon said “No.” To which Silas replied, “Good.”
Benoit helped translate the parts of the book that were in druidic. They learnt about the history of the valley, including the Delmorians and the Fanes.
Falkon asked the party for assistance with the druids who had taken over the Wizard of Wines.
Later that night, the party met Karl and Nikolai Wachter and played a game of cards with them, learning more about the political situation in Vallaki, the Burgomaster’s family and the constant festivals.
That night Benoit had a dream of the Gulthias tree burning and spoke with a ghostly dusk elf woman called Petrina.
The following morning the party met the owner of the caravan, Rictavio. He told them he had a monkey but gave it to Blinksy the toymaker.
BURGOMASTER'S ATTIC
On the way back to the church of St Andral, Silas begged the party to peek in the attic at the Burgomaster’s mansion. Through various means of levitating and flying the party broke into the top floor.
The door on the far end had a ward that electrocuted Luci when he went to knock.
Inside the party found a workshop belonging to the baronet, Viktor Vallakovich. After snooping around and admiring the skeleton cats, the party discovered a faulty teleportation circle. It was only when Luci tried to destroy the circle with a dagger that Viktor revealed himself from his invisibility spell and attempted to stop him.
He immediately said he would have us all arrested for breaking in since he was the Burgomaster’s son. The party had a long and tense conversation with him, discussing his experiments to find a way out of Barovia. He talked about exploding a few of his maids in the process and the treatment of his once promised fiancee, Stella Wachter, who he modified her memory into believing she was a cat. He mentioned important books and information at Wachterhaus (The Wachter family’s home) that he believed would be useful.
Silas was ecstatic about meeting another wizard for the first time; the party was less enthusiastic.
At the church, Luci and Benoit found a fish hook near where the bones had been stolen from. The party learnt that Milivoj was the one who took the bones and that would usually help a fisherman called Bluuto out on Lake Zarovich.
LAKE ZAROVICH
Travelling to the Lake, the party stopped by the Vistani camp There they found out about the missing 7 year old oracle, Arabelle.
The party spoke briefly with Kassimir the dusk elf, Benoit mentioning the dreams with Petrina and learnt that she was once Kassimir’s sister and engaged to Strahd. He asked for assistance with ancient knowledge at the Amber Temple.
At the lake the party managed to stop Bluuto attempting to sacrifice Arabelle to the lake by throwing her overboard in a sack.
Silas levitated him and in his dying breaths he said “The feast…two days” before biting his tongue and dying. Great.
After bringing Arabelle home safely, she gave the part Tarokka readings which mentioned a tome of ancient knowledge, a sword of sunlight and an artefact of protection.
FESTIVAL OF THE BLAZING SUN
The party returned to Vallaki before the festival of the blazing sun.
That night Silas received a dream where he spoke directly to Strahd - Strahd gave Silas the ability to finally open his fathers spellbook. Scared of the party’s reaction, Silas decided not to tell anyone about it.
Shortly after the dream, Silas snuck out at 3am to go over to the Burgomasters mansion. He levitated up to Viktor’s bedroom and asked if he would be interested in sharing spells. It was only when Silas mentioned his father's spell book that Viktor took an interest.
The next day was the festival of the blazing sun. The party attended the bizarre display hosted by Vargus the Burgomaster and a very sad band.
From the crowd Silas tried to get Viktor’s attention on the podium. Viktor did a spinning motion with his finger telling Silas to spin in a circle, which he did immediately to Viktor's amusement. Luci hurriedly told Silas to cut it out.
It started to rain as the guards failed to light the wicker sun, and when one guard started to laugh, Vargus ordered him to be killed.
Before the party could intervene they quickly discovered that the Wachter brothers had released a sabertooth tiger into the streets, one that was apparently in Rictavio’s caravan.
After a lot of running around, rescuing an injured Nikolai and herding the creature out of town, they managed to get the tiger back into the caravan.
Rictavio told them he would be leaving, before giving a very stern talking to Silas where his poor deception revealed he had spoken with Strahd. Rictavio promptly removed a tracking spell that Strahd had put on Silas’s spellbook.
WACHTERHAUS + LORD VASILI
Taking advantage of the fact that Nikolai had gotten hurt, the party went over to Wachterhaus to check on him while also snooping around. Silas got his arm stuck in the fence while trying to get inside.
Karl informed them that his mother currently had a guest staying over called Lord Vasili von Holz.
After meeting Vasili who was surprised to find the entire party snooping around the small library, he invited them all to have dinner with him.
The party had a pleasant evening with Lady Wachter and Vasili, hearing all about Lady Wachter’s dissatisfaction with the current leader of Vallaki.
The next day the party discovered that Silas's spellbook could directly copy the contents of other books within a 8-10 ft radius. This included important documents from Wachterhaus and all of Luci’s personal diary which Silas had been reading secretly every night.
Reading his father's book, Silas also found out that his father was Otto (Inventor of Otto's Irresistible Dance), a famous wizard and bard who was close friends of Mordenkainen. Silas was utterly humiliated that his father was a Bard Wizard but was more gutted to realise that Otto had died 2 years prior at the hands of Vecna.
THE FEAST
With no new leads on the missing bones, the party went on a search through Vallaki. Silas decided to attach his spellbook to Falkon in raven form so he could fly around and look for any clues with a detect magic spell.
Finding a strong source of magic, the party very aggressively barged into the coffin maker's shop at the edge of town. Once again terrorising and killing an elderly man as he ran through Benoit's Spike Groth spell.
Not only did the party manage to find the bones, but also an entire shop filled with vampire spawn.
An intense combat ensued where the party was completely swarmed. Silas managed to dimension door out with Ismark while Luci jumped from the second floor skewering a vampire spawn and crushing it with the weight of his armour.
The city fell into complete chaos with buildings on fire and citizens being killed by vampires left and right. This was “The Feast” that Bluuto had mentioned.
The party ran into Vasili who was protecting a group of children from two vampire spawn. With his help the party managed to get to the Church of St Andral just in time to meet Anastrasya, a full blooded vampire and one of Strahd’s wives.
She killed Father Lucien in front of the party and then turned her attention to Vasili where she called him “Dear” and exposed him as Strahd Von Zarovich in disguise. (We all screamed at the table)
To protect the party, Luci handed over the bones to Strahd and in return he promised to clean up Anastrasya’s mess.
Due to a poor perception check from Luci and many bad rolls in the future, Luci continues to see Strahd in his handsome Vasili form throughout the campaign.
The party facing the aftermath of The Feast
LEAVING VALLAKI
Safely back at the Bluewater Inn, Luci had a dream where he spoke with Strahd in the church of St Andral. Strahd handed the ownership of the church over to Luci and asked him to fix it up.
Silas insisted that the party should allow Viktor to travel with them, saying "I need to bring him along to teach me more spells." And Ismark replied snarkily "Oh yeah? He's going to teach you spells? How is he going to teach you? Is he going to teach you orally? with tongue?!" And Silas flew into a complete fit of rage and embarrassment.
The party investigated Wachterhaus again, finding the long dead body of Lady Wachter's husband hidden in their bedroom but also finding the Tome of Strahd in a box of bones.
The party told Karl and Nikolai about the body and encouraged them to get out of town and head to Kresk.
In the chaos that followed, the party made plans to leave town as soon as possible, with their sights set on Argynvostholt where Luci’s tarokka reading spoke of a sword of sunlight.
With a revolt happening against the Burgomaster, Silas told Viktor to meet them at the Bluewater Inn. He waited for Viktor like a nervous war wife while Luci and Ismark went to look at Luci’s new church. On the way there they saw Lady Wachter leading a mob against the Burgomaster and his wife and allowed them to carry on. While the Burgomaster’s Mansion was set on fire, Luci and Ismark continued to clean up the church and had a heart to heart conversation.
Falkon dragged Viktor into the inn by the scruff of his collar and with no home left to return to, Silas invited Viktor to travel with them. He very quickly agreed to tag along. The party were mostly outraged but Luci firmly said "Make your choices, Silas."
That night Strahd talked with Luci again in his dreams, this time by a lake from Luci’s hometown. The following morning Luci woke up with an invitation for the entire party to a dinner at Castle Ravenloft scheduled in the next few days. Ireena adamantly insisted that she wanted to go to give Strahd a piece of her mind.
Silas was becoming increasingly jealous that Strahd was now only contacting Luci.
The party found a scroll of resurrection that was left by Rictavio. The scroll was given to Ireena to hold onto.
THE ROAD TO ARGYNVOSTHOLT
With a huge travelling party consisting of Falkon, Viktor, Ismark, Ireena, Luci, Benoit and Silas, the group grabbed new winter clothes, got their weapons silvered and bought horses from the Vistani for their trip up the mountain.
Just off the main road out of Vallaki, Luci, Ismark and Benoit stumbled on a body strung up between two trees, yellow flowers and fungi growing from his chest with druidic writing written across the stones.
When a storm started to get too strong, the group found shelter in an abandoned cabin.
The party took some time to read Strahd’s tome (We are using the interactive tome) learning about his childhood and the battle of Argynvostholt. They learnt about his right hand Rahadin the dusk elf and his best friend Alek Guilym who looked not exactly the same but very similar to Luci. They found information about his brother Sergei, the sun sword that he wielded and Tatyana, a woman identical to Ireena.
Within the tome, Benoit had a very important conversation with a woman called Lysaga who he quickly realised was still alive from hundreds of years ago and was very aware that she was communicating through a book.
Silas asked Viktor if he would form a wizard alliance with him.
On the way up the side of the mountain, the group met a Vistani man called Arrigal, who told them he was looking for a horse thief called Esmerelda - The party learnt that Esmerelda is a vampire hunter and was once a student of Van Richten. (Silas's favourite author and famous monster hunter)
Inside Argynvostholt the group stole a bunch of stuff from Godfrey Guilym’s room and absolutely decimated some revenants in an overkill combat (This incredible combat involved Luci’s insanely strong addon damage, a moonbeam spell revealing Falkon’s true form and a double fireball spell from Silas and Viktor.)
In one of the hallways, the party saw a line of marble busts. For a moment one appeared as Benoit's decapitated head. Benoit called Strahd pathetic for trying to scare him. They realised that Strahd harbours a lot of resentment as he is unable to contact Benoit through dreams like he can with the rest of the party.
Speaking with the revenant of Godfrey (And sheepishly returning his stolen property), he let us know that the revenant of Vladimir Horngaard was the one who had the sun sword.
The party had an absolutely agonising (and incredible) combat against Vladimir. Luci was caught in close quarters and was pinned to the ground, having his head smashed against the ground over and over by Vladimir, leaving him dead.
Once Vladimir was defeated and the sun sword obtained, Ireena used the scroll of resurrection to bring Luci back to life (He now has a fear of fire). Ismark being unable to stop Vladimir in the fight took Luci's death very personally.
The party returned back to Arrigal’s campsite in silence, getting a short sleep in before they were expected to be picked up for their dinner at Castle Ravenloft.
Strahd’s black carriage arrived and the party gave the tome to Falkon for safe-keeping and agreed to meet back up again at the Wizard of Wines.
Although he was not invited, Viktor decided that he was also going to attend the dinner and faced the realisation that he was no longer the Burgomaster's son.
DINNER WITH STRAHD
The exhausted party arrived at the gates of Castle Ravenloft and were met by Rahadin. Just being within his "deathly choir" aura took a bunch of hit points off Silas.
They met Strahd at the grand staircase, Luci still completely covered in his own blood.
Strahd was unimpressed by their attire and with Viktor being an uninvited guest. He informed them he had already selected new clothes for them to wear and that Rahadin would escort them to the guest wing.
When Silas hesitated to follow Rahadin up the stairs, the deathly choir got louder, making Silas collapse on the stairs.
In the guest wing they met Escher, Strahd's newest consort. They had already heard a lot about Escher from Falkon as they were dating before Escher decided to leave and turn into a vampire.
The party in their dinner outfits
After changing into new clothes, Escher refused to take the group downstairs.
When the party arrived in the dining hall by themselves, Strahd had very purposefully arranged the seating plan. Ireena on his left and Luci directly on his right.
Silas’s jealousy of Strahd's attention towards Luci was starting to boil over at this point.
At the table they met the other brides, Ludmilla and Anastrasya again - they were informed that Volenta was currently out.
After directing Ireena to sit, Strahd said “This seat is for Ireena’s brother.” And when Ismark went to sit, Strahd instructed “No, no. not you.” and made him sit one seat over.
As the dinner started, a new person entered the room, a bodyguard working for Strahd called Izek. He was very confused when Strahd told him to dine with us. The party discovered that Izek was Ireena’s real biological brother who she believed had died when they were children.
The very awkward dinner continued.
Benoit started up a charming conversation with Ludmilla. Since she wanted to discuss some more sensitive topics, Ludmilla stood and told Strahd very boldly she would be getting more wine from downstairs with Benoit. Strahd watched in silent fury as they left the room.
After Luci accidentally mentioned that he had died earlier that day, Strahd stood from the table and politely asked if Luci would join him for a walk since he had something to show him.
Luci turned to Silas as he stood and said “I’ll just be a few minutes” and Silas replied with the most sarcastic and acidic “Sure.”
With Benoit and Luci both gone from the table, completely filled with rage and jealousy, Silas grabbed a wine bottle and began to drink heavily.
PRIVATE CONVERSATIONS
Strahd had a very intimate conversation with Luci, taking him to his study and showing him the brand new red and black platemail armour that he had commissioned specifically for him.
Luci bashfully replied saying “Red is not really my colour.” Strahd smiled and said, “Well that’s not true, you looked beautiful in red when you arrived here.” referring to when Luci arrived covered in blood. Strahd casually offered Luci the idea of companionship and the opportunity to do good work in Barovia, and Luci hesitated leaving the answer vague but not turning down the offer down completely.
Benoit downstairs in the wine cellar saw the dead body of Milivoj and a number of others strung up in the basement, blood being drained from their bodies and into wine barrels.
He took note but continued his conversation with Ludmilla, asking her what she would do if Strahd was no longer in the picture and organised to meet up with her in the library after dinner to discuss further.
Drunk Silas started to pick fights with Ismark, asking if everyone was going to let Luci get away with this.
Silas demanded that Izek take him and Viktor to look at Strahd’s Library.
In the library Viktor started to hunt through books while Silas had a really pleasant and sobering conversation with Izek. Learning that he seemed to be a very kind hearted man in a difficult situation. He even asked “What's a wizard?” to Silas’s absolute surprise and horror.
Silas offered to lend some of his books to Izek, asked about his job and if there was a chance he’d be able to travel with them for a short time,with the hope he could speak properly with Ireena.
After Viktor found castle floor plans, Silas attempted a high five but since neither of them had ever done one before, they ended up just touching their palms together for a weird amount of time before both awkwardly shrugging it off.
Benoit, Ludmilla, Luci and Strahd arrived back to realise three people were no longer at the table.
As the library trio were about to leave, Izek opened the door to reveal Strahd standing in the hallway.
Izek immediately took the fall for Silas and lied saying that he offered to take them to the Library. Strahd told Izek and Viktor to leave and Viktor left Silas behind without even a second glance.
Strahd offered Silas the role of his successor and Silas's response was extremely sceptical. Strahd also mentioned that apparently the famous monster hunter Van Richten wants to kill Silas since he has Strahd's Tome. Silas is Van Richten's biggest fan and was extremely concerned and confused about this information.
The party all returned to the table. Luci asked Ismark if he was doing alright, and Ismark looked at Luci baffled saying "Why is it when something bad happens to you, you're always asking me if I'm alright? You're the one who just died."
Silas started an argument that Luci's death was more traumatic for him because he had to watch it happen.
After dinner Strahd decided to give a tour of the castle, leaving Viktor alone at the table with the brides.
As they were leaving the dining room Strahd pulled Benoit aside and threatened him saying “Conspire with my wife again and I’ll have you killed.” Benoit stared him down defiantly said “Ok. Sure.”
During the tour, out of spite Benoit revealed to everyone that he had found Milivoj dead and strung up in the wine cellar. Strahd furiously decided that the tour was over and that Izek would escort the party to their rooms for the night.
AFTER DINNER CHAOS
The post dinner conversations were very tense, the party sharing what Strahd had said to them. While Viktor was away the party raised concerns about his lack of participation in the fight that led to Luci’s death, to which Silas was very defensive.
Benoit went to talk privately with Ludmilla in the Library. He learnt more about the Druids at Yester Hill and the location of his mentor. Benoit very casually asked if she'd let him stay the night with her and having already endeared himself, she gave him a once over and nodded calmly allowing him to follow her to her room. (We all started to cheer for Benoit at the table!)
Luci decided to go and speak with Strahd alone to confront him about the all lies he had told him in his numerous dreams. When Luci showed up to Strahd's bedchambers, Escher was immediately kicked out by Strahd.
Strahd spoke with Luci, skillfully turning around every lie and positioning himself as lonely and sympathetic, endearing himself to Luci even more. At one point Strahd cast modify memory on Luci in order to make sure Luci believed him, spinning the story that the others were simply just jealous of him. Strahd offered a hand to Luci again, asking him to stay the night. Luci agreed and slept with Strahd.
When Silas found out that Luci had gone to Strahd and wasn’t coming back for the night, he sent Luci the angriest sending spell saying “You’re an idiot, a fucking traitor and a waste of a perfectly good resurrection scroll.” Silas got no reply.
After speaking with Ireena and Ismark about the state of the party, Silas numbly sat with Viktor in a spare bedroom. Silas ripped into Viktor questioning him about leaving Silas alone with Strahd. He reminded Viktor that without Silas, he would be abandoned by the party immediately so if he wanted to stay he needed to think of someone besides himself.
Viktor apologised and after some more conversations he admitted that he had witnessed his parents being stoned to death and that maybe he wasn’t completely alright after Vallaki.
They had a heart to heart, Silas telling him about his own situation with his abusive mother and Viktor telling Silas he was an idiot for believing that Van Richten wanted to kill him.
They spent the remainder of the evening studying together.
THE NEXT MORNING
Benoit and Luci sheepishly returned to the guest wing the following morning, walking into the room where Ismark, Ireena, Silas and Viktor sat waiting for them.
Silas completely flew off the handle at both of them, Benoit also getting berated but not nearly as severely as Luci.
Luci tried to explain the situation, sharing his belief that perhaps Strahd wasn’t as bad as everyone painted him as but was quickly and harshly scorned by Silas. Further pushing what Strahd had said about everyone being against Luci into his mind and dividing the party.
Luci informed everyone that Strahd had granted Izek a short leave for him to travel with us.
Silas discovered that he was unable to contact Falkon through sending spell and was worried something had happened to him and the tome.
To the surprise of everyone except for Silas, Ismark announced that he and Ireena would actually be going back to Barovia Village for a short time for their own safety. They wished the party luck and said that perhaps they would reconvene in Kresk.
With the absence of Ireena and Ismark and the weighty understanding of why they had left, the atmosphere in the carriage ride back was horrendous and more arguments insued.
Luci swore that he would never do anything to put Ireena in danger and before Silas could argue back, Viktor interrupted saying “No. No Silas, he’s right…he’d fuck anyone to protect Ireena!” which made Silas laugh harder than he ever has in his life, while Luci and Benoit sat in heated silence.
Art of Falkon and Izek by our incredible DM - @oneirotect
WIZARD OF WINES
The carriage dropped them off at the outskirts of the Wizard of Wines. The new, strange party were united in their goal of hopefully finding and recovering Falkon and Strahd's Tome.
Luci donned his incredible new armour to the absolute horror of Silas. Luci's old armour was destroyed in the combat with Vladimir so he argued back that its better than no armour at all.
Travelling off the path and following another large raven, the party met the remainder of the Martikov Family who own the winery.
After explaining the situation, Falkon's uncle Elvir guessed that Falkon had decided to do a quick detour and deal with a hag in Berez.
Elvir invited himself along and only a few hours later mentioned that he couldn't fight but that the party could protect him.
The party made their way into the swamp to rescue Falkon.
This is where we last left off in game and if you have made it this far, thank you so much for reading such a long breakdown of our campaign! If you have any questions feel free to ask and again thank you so much for showing interest and support for our game, it means so much to all of us!
#dnd#Curse of Strahd#ravenloft#strahd#Dnd campaign#dnd character#Silas Shaw#Silas#Benoit#Luci#Lucius Thornhill#dungeons and dragons#dnd art#A MEDAL FOR ANYONE WHO READS THE ENTIRE THING ITS 5K I THINK#I tried to keep is brief but so much has happened#I HOPE YOU ENJOY!
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When there's something strange in the neighborhood, who you gonna call? Probably not John Constantine...?
I'm still pretty new to these DPxDC spaces, but as I've been exploring it from the perspective of someone currently deep in the throes of DC hyperfixation (and Danny Phantom being a past hyperfixation that I sometimes relapse into) one trend that I find kinda odd (but not necessarily unexpected) is just how prevalent Constantine is in these spaces that are largely dominated by BatFamily AUs and headcanons. Like, I do get it (kind of). Constantine does occasionally show up in Batman stories where Bruce encounters something supernatural and needs consulting on the case, and Constantine definitely appeals to the fandom audience in some pretty clear ways. Yeah, he's a handsome, charming bastard with a secret heart of gold. He's British, witty, cool, and an asshole. He may be one hell of a messy bisexual disaster, but he's OUR messy bisexual disaster, dammit! So we forgive him for being a cynical jerkass sometimes. I haven't consumed much media with him in it, but like... I get it and why out of all the mystical characters that DC has in their roster, why you might choose to include him over other characters. However I do find it kinda odd because like... Constantine is NOT the kind of person that I would see Batman nor anyone in his family particularly going for when they need help when something supernatural comes up... In fact the biggest reason that I haven't seen much from Constantine is that... He just does not appear in a lot of media that Batman is in! So I haven't seen much of him! (In terms of media that I've consumed for the sake of Batman being in it, he's only appeared in Justice League Action. No other animated series for Batman. And he hasn't really been in any recent comics that cross over with Batman that have caught my eye! He didn't even have a story in Knight Terrors!)
Of course there's no shame in using Constantine for your stories. He's popular for a reason, and if he happened to be in the area, then sure, the Bats might grab him to help them with their latest case. But for magic-users that the BatFamily might go to for assistance, he isn't always going to be the best choice. So for anyone who needs a magic-user in their BatPhanfiction, here are a few alternate suggestions.
(Suggestions under the cut for length)
Jason Blood
For people with magical expertise, I would expect the Bat Family to call Jason Blood before anyone else. Jason is old. How old? Old as balls. He's actually been around since the time of Arthurian legend. Apparently he was a scribe for Merlin before being bound to the immortal demon Etrigan which made him immortal too. Having worked for Merlin himself, having some level of innate magic from being bound and therefore sharing a body with a demon, and having been around for hundreds of years, this means that Jason has had plenty of ability and time to learn and practice magic and to perfect his craft. He knows his stuff and has a level of experience that is practically unparalleled on Earth. He's not a man to be trifled with and Batman has worked with him on many an occasion! The biggest reason that the BatFamily would call on him before anyone else? Location, location, location. Jason actually lives in Gotham City, so not only does he have the requisite experience and knowledge, but he's also easy for the BatFamily to get ahold of too! And as a bonus, with a simple rhyme, he can turn into the demon Etrigan who can kick ass on his behalf! Jason may seem to be a bit grumpy and stern on the outside, but he's a reliable ally to have and desires to protect others just as much as Bruce does.
Zatanna Zatara
Zatanna is a stage magician by trade, a master of tricks, illusion, and slight of hand... But she also happens to be among the most powerful actual magic-users in the known DC universe! Honestly, if you know of her and still choose to use Constantine over her in a story when either will do? You're doing yourself a bit of a disservice. Just look at her! She's gorgeous, radiant, optimistic, always has a fun trick up her sleeve, knows how to have a good time, and unlike Constantine, doesn't have the kinds nor number of enemies that he does! And best of all? She's actually buddies with Bruce Wayne! They're good friends! In fact, Bruce trained under her father for a time to learn escape artistry! Honestly it's a bit of a shame that people forget how good of friends they are... They might have dated in the past? But ever since Bruce mastered escape artistry, they've kept in touch! The two honestly would have an unspoken trust with each other and ability to rely on each other that few other characters could have with Bruce. Zatanna is usually on the road performing, but if she's available, she'd likely be more than happy to pop on over to Gotham to help Brucie out with a case! Superman may be Batman's best friend, and Harvey Dent may be Bruce Wayne's best friend... But honestly Zatanna Zatara is a close second place on both accounts! She's GREAT! I crave for her to be included in more stories! WHERE ARE MY AUNTIE ZATANNA AUs!???
Xanthe Zhou
[Image from this post.]
Honestly this is a personal suggestion that I want to see because it's just a damn shame that it doesn't already!
Are you hesitant to use a comic character with a huge backlog of stories that you couldn't possibly hope to get through for fear of messing them up? Do you want to use a canonically LGBT character? Do you want to use a character that's a person of color? What about a character that specializes in interacting with the spirits of the dead for your Danny Phantom crossover fics? Because boy howdy do I have you covered! Say hello to Xanthe Zhou! A nonbinary Chinese-American spirit envoy within the DC universe who first debuted in March of last year (2023)! So guess what! There is no long, confusing continuity to follow! If you want to catch up on all you need to know about them, go ahead and read their 6 issue miniseries Spirit World and you should be covered! And heeeey~ Guess who else is in Spirit World~~~?? One Cassandra Cain and one John Constantine! Plus the art is drop-dead gorgeous!
[Image from this post.]
So please! I beseech you! Check out Spirit World and get to know Xanthe! They are literally everything you are looking for in a character to add to your Danny Phantom and Batman crossover story and are brand-spanking new and it is just a DAMN shame that they aren't already in any DPxDC stories!!! And guess what! They live in Gotham City to boot! (Gotham's Chinatown to be specific.) So please! Do yourself a favor and check out Spirit World and add Xanthe to your stories! If nothing else, I'll certainly read them!
In any case, that's the list and all I can come up with for now! If you have any further suggestions, please don't be afraid to add them on in a reblog! My comics knowledge is very limited and am always happy to hear about other ideas and characters that I've missed! I've actually seen some usage of Klarion the Witch Boy in this phandom which was a pleasant surprise! But sadly, I don't know nearly enough about him to actually say anything about him. But please! Go ahead and tell me about other magic using characters that you think would be suited to the DPxDC universe! And if you make anything of this sort with Xanthe in it... Please send it to me! I want that shit pumped directly into my veins!!!
P.S. I just wanted to say... Batman miiiiight call Santa Claus before he calls Constantine for help on an investigation lol (apparently Bruce apprenticed under Santa for a time :p ).
#dpxdc#danny phantom#gotham city#dc characters#jason blood#etrigan#zatanna zatara#zatanna#xanthe zhou#spirit world#dc x dp#dp x dc crossover#john constantine#batman#dc universe#dc comics#dc heroes
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Words: 6,851
Pov: 3rd Person
Pairing: Crowley x Male!Reader
Warning(s): Language, SMUT (18+), Rimming, Teasing, Male on Male penetration, brief orgasm denial, Bottom!Reader, Top!Crowley
Summary: (Y/N) is a well-known researcher and hacker in the hunting industry, dedicating his life to protecting innocent people all around the United States. What happens when the King of Hell comes to him with a problem he needs help solving and a deal that (Y/N) cannot turn down?
Request:
Hope you are having a good day/night
Omg I absolutely love the Crowley x older Winchester brother reader fic you did for me
I was wondering if I could request Crowley x Male reader smut
@xweirdo101x
A/N: I haven't written smut in so long, I hope you like it! Plus, this is my first time writing male/male smut, so feedback is really appreciated! MINORS DNI!!!!! Much Love!
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It was beautiful that morning. Light barely shone over the treeline, the warm colors faintly casting a reflection across the lake that sat outside of the small house. The ground was littered with red, orange, and yellow leaves, decorating it like some cheesy floor pattern on a Welcome Mat. The wind whipped through the branches, conducting the trees in a synchronized dance. Morning Doves sang their harmonious tune.
It was 8:30 AM. (Y/N) sat peacefully in the rocking chair that was nestled in the corner of the aged porch. A blanket draped over his lap, and a warm cup of steaming coffee in his grasp. It was mornings like that that gave him a sense of serenity, that reminded him of the world outside of his profession. That was why, in the mornings, he had one rule. One simple rule;
No phone calls before nine.
Granted, lives were at stake. Hunters all across the United States were taking on various jobs as he sat there, and some needed information quicker than others. He made an exception to the rule in case of an emergency, but nothing more. Most of his life was consumed with research and phone calls while he sat in a stuffy room near the back of the house. He knew that, when his reputation in the hunting community became well-known, he would need to set some rules and boundaries to allow himself some personal time. Some time to relax and reflect.
Not everyone followed those rules, however.
A buzz from his phone sounded next to him. It sat on a small, rusted round table next to the rocking chair. (Y/N)’s gaze turned towards the phone as it shifted with each violent vibration across the metal. He could feel the vibrating under his feet against the wood. Across the screen, Sam Winchester was written. A heavy, yet somehow content, sigh escaped past his lips as he reached over and picked up his phone. A part of him said that he should ignore it, but the other was telling him that it could be urgent. The Winchesters rarely got in contact with him before noon.
“Hello?” He answered, his voice deep and calm.
“Hey, (Y/N)! Dean and I were wondering if you could look something up for us?” Sam’s voice rang through the receiver, a little too cheery first thing in the morning, in (Y/N)’s opinion. They must have been up for hours by then.
“Is the information urgent?”
There was a long pause. “Well…”
“Mr. Winchester, what is my rule?”
Another long pause. “No phone calls before nine.”
“Exactly, unless there was someone actively dying and we were under a time constraint. Are we on a time constraint, Mr. Winchester?”
“Please, call me Sam.”
“Are we on a time constraint, Sam?”
Pause. “No. We just wanted to get whatever information we could before we headed to the police station to talk to the officers.”
“You and I both know you’re going to gather even more evidence about the case after the fact, so I think it would be wise to just go ahead and make your way to the police station. They might answer some of your questions, they might not. Hell, you might have even more questions for me by the time you’re done.”
“You’re right, you’re right. Uh…I guess I’ll…give you a call back when we’re done.”
“After nine, of course.” (Y/N) nodded slowly.
“Right. After nine,”
“Thank you, Sam. You know, I always love talking to you. You’re easier to communicate with than your brother.”
Sam chuckled deeply. “Thanks, I get that a lot,”
“Well, it’s true. Anyway, go talk to the police, and then let me know of anything you might need, alright?”
“Alright, bye,”
“Bye,” (Y/N) ended the phone call and replaced the phone in its original position.
He brought the cup of coffee up to his face, blowing cool air onto the surface. Steam curled around the mug as he took a sip. There were some people he didn’t mind receiving phone calls from in the morning, during his off hours. Sam Winchester was one of them. Always so polite when he had to remind him, he almost didn’t mind having to repeat himself over and over again. He knew how stressful the physical aspect of the hunting life could be, but Sam was one who never let his anger appear evident when they conversed that early in the morning. His brother, on the other hand, seemed to hold all of the anger for both brothers on his sleeve. (Y/N) had many unpleasant conversations with the older Winchester, but he also had some satisfying ones. In the end, he didn’t mind working with the Winchesters. They were the ones that called him the most. They were the ones who kept him busy and were appreciative when he was able to give them the information that they were in search of. That much he was grateful for.
“Hello, darling,” a scratchy, baritone voice broke the placid silence.
(Y/N) showed no physical reaction, yet he felt as if his heart had lept into his throat. It raced rapidly and he felt the familiar sensation of gooseflesh appear on his arms. He couldn’t necessarily blame it on the cool breeze. In front of him, Crowley stood, hands deep in the pockets of his black peacoat. A smirk was placed on his lips, covered by the beard that had grown out since the last time (Y/N) saw him.
He had met Crowley some years ago through the Winchesters. It was then he had gotten his first taste of the types of connections Sam and Dean had. When they originally told him about one of their contacts being the King of Hell, he was rather skeptical at first. Rumors travel fast in the hunting world, and (Y/N) knew all of them, especially the ones that star Sam and Dean Winchester. Yet, when he had initially met Crowley, he was pleasantly surprised. He never expected an individual with a clean, lavish appearance as he. He never expected the accent either. It had shocked him at first, but not negatively. In a way, he had always assumed that the King of Hell was going to be some grotesque monster that would seem as if they dwelled deep in a humid cave. He could blame that on his ignorance.
Since then, the handful of times he had interactions with the King of Hell, he would not say they had been horrible. Quite the opposite, they had been fairly pleasant. Crowley was cordial towards him, speaking to him in, what (Y/N) had first assumed was, a respectful tone, but later concluded that it would be more accurate to call it professional. Crowley was charismatic, a businessman. He knew how to get what he wanted out of people, and (Y/N) could see why they fell for it each time. Crowley knew exactly what to say and when to say it. That accent of his could put anyone in a trance.
(Y/N) sat the cup of coffee down on the side table beside his phone before he placed both of his hands in his lap, his fingers folded over one another. “Good morning, Crowley. How…unexpected of you to pop in this early in the morning.”
“Quite,” Crowley paused as he looked around, studying his environment. “I must say, I never expected a man such as yourself to own a place with such beauty.”
(Y/N) slowly nodded. “While I appreciate the backhanded compliment, I am currently off the clock. That is if you needed anything in the first place and didn’t just stop by for some idle chit-chat.”
“I never ‘chit-chat’. I did come by to ask for your…assistance with something.”
“As I have said, I am off the clock. If you need my help with anything, you can come back at nine o’clock.”
A smirk appeared in the corner of Crowley’s mouth. “Check the time, darling,”
(Y/N)’s eyes shifted over to his phone. Hesitantly, he reached over and clicked the screen, illuminating his background of deep purples and blues.
9:01 A.M.
As he looked back over at Crowley, he noted that the smirk was still there. Crowley shrugged, the ruffle of fabric filling the silence.
“It’s time to clock back in.”
(Y/N let out a sigh as he slapped his hands onto his knees, standing from his seat. He caught the blanket before it was able to fall off and folded it thrice. He then turned and laid it over the back of the rocker. He placed his phone into his pocket, then grabbed his coffee mug, the steam having dissipated since Crowley had arrived.
“Let’s head to my study, then,” he mumbled.
He walked past Crowley towards the screen porch door. Before he had the chance to grab it, Crowley opened it for him, startling (Y/N) for a moment. (Y/N) nodded his head.
“Such a gentleman.” He murmured and walked into the house, Crowley following soon after.
The foyer was small but tidy, so it seemed bigger than it was. The new floors glimmered in the morning light, and the walls were decorated with various pieces of artwork. (Y/N) took pride in renovating the older house, making it a place he was happy to call his home.
When he had found the house for sale, he was surprised, initially, by how little it cost. Seeing the state upon purchase made him understand the drop in price almost immediately. It took several months for him to turn the once run-down house into a livable place, one where he wasn’t afraid of catching asbestos poisoning every night. Since he completed the remodeling, he has made sure that the house is well-decorated, comfortable, and clean.
To the right of the foyer was the entryway into the kitchen. It wasn’t that large, but with one person occupying the house, he found it unnecessary to include more counter space in the renovation. To the left was the living room, well-lit with natural light in the morning and even brighter with the overhead ceiling fan at night, comfortable enough to seat many different people if he ever decided to have guests over to mingle. Ahead of Crowley and (Y/N), down the hallway, sat three doors, all of them ajar. Directly ahead was his bedroom, to the left was the guest bathroom, and to the right was his study, the one place where (Y/N) found he was spending most of his time throughout the twenty-four hours of the day.
(Y/N) kicked off his slides, placing them next to the front door, before replacing them with a pair of slippers. He then gestured down the hallway with his head.
“This way,” he said as he began to walk down the hallway.
The study was a masterpiece in it of itself. The walls directly beside the door and adjacent were lined with built-in bookshelves, courtesy of (Y/N) himself. On the shelves sat various centuries' worth of lore, categorized by decade, topic, and alphabetized by the last name of the author, if the author was known, that is. On the other wall sat large windows lined side-by-side, the curtains pulled back to allow sunlight in. Sitting at an angle in the middle of the floor was a heavy mahogany desk, similar to one that would be found in a lawyer’s or politician’s office. A rolling desk chair sat behind it, something cheap yet comfortable. On top of the desk were different books that were opened to certain pages that (Y/N) had left off on, a notebook with a ballpoint pen, an LED keyboard with a matching Bluetooth mouse, and a large, curved monitor with two smaller monitors on either side. Two chairs sat in front of the desk, a place where hunters had sat multiple times when visiting and discussing business with him.
(Y/N) rounded the corner of the desk and sat down in the office chair, the cup still grasped between his hands. He took another sip of his coffee as he scanned over the cluttered surface of his desk. As he moved books out of the way, his tongue poked into his cheek. Finally, with a triumphant ‘ah’, he pulled the brown coaster from underneath one of the book spines. He placed his mug on top of it, bent down, and turned on his computer.
“Alright, if you want to have a seat,” (Y/N) gestured to the chair.
“I prefer to stand.”
“Suit yourself,” he shrugged and typed his passcode rapidly into his keyboard.
The three monitors lit up with work he had been focused on the day before. Carefully, he saved documents and exited out of files. When the files were all tucked away and his screens were cleared, he turned his attention back to Crowley.
“Now, what is this problem you’re having? And, please be quick about it, I have some hunters that are going to be calling me back to gather information for them as well.”
“The Winchesters can wait,” Crowley said as he stalked forward.
(Y/N) fought back the urge to ask how Crowley had known the Winchesters were the ones to call, for he knew the answer already.
“Now, I seem to be having a bit of a rogue demon problem.” Crowley began to pace around the room, his eyes seeming to study the different texts that lined the walls and the scenery outside.
“Don’t we all?”
“Mine’s a little different.”
“How so?”
“You see, I control the demons, right? Specifically, I control the deals that come in when humans summon us to the crossroads. I expect demons to persuade these people in some way to get these deals by possessing family members, friends, and the like, while others are sent when they are summoned to take these deals. It’s a rather layered process, too many demons, too many steps, but it works.”
“I see,” (Y/N) hummed as he folded his hands on top of the desk, back slouched.
“Recently, however, it has come to my attention that there have been several demons who don’t necessarily, well, like me.”
“I can’t imagine why,” (Y/N) mumbled, his words dripping with sarcasm.
Crowley ignored him. “And I’ve found out by a rather reliable source that a handful of demons have been rebelling against me. Some are just not persuading people as they are supposed to and running rampant in the street while others, the ones who are summoned, are taking these individuals' souls without giving anything in return. They mess with the deal.”
“Do you not see that as a win in your situation? You get their soul no matter what, Crowley.”
“Ah, you see, I do, but I am a man of my word.” He stopped and placed his hand on his chest. “When deals are made, they are not meant to be broken. They are taking their souls and sending them right back to the pathetic life that they came to fix. I don’t like humans as much as the next demon, but a deal is a deal, and it should not be messed with.”
“How…noble? What does this exactly have to do with me?”
Crowley reached into his peacoat, pulling out a sheet of folded white paper. He walked over and placed it on (Y/N)’s desk. On it was a list of locations and dates neatly written in calligraphy. Most of the locations were paired with a date from a couple of days ago, some a couple of weeks, and some were marked from that very day.
“This is a list of all known demon locations and times that they were last seen there. The crossroads demons I can deal with on my own, they will be harder for someone like you to find, but these are the demons that were supposed to be possessing family members and the such. They’re lower-ranked demons than others, so they lack the necessary powers to teleport, makes them easier to find.”
“And what am I supposed to do with this?” He gestured to the paper with his hands.
“Find the demons on that computer of yours, tell me where they are, and I will take care of the rest.”
(Y/N) slowly nodded. There had been many instances where he had been able to find the location of a monster for different hunters by hacking into various CCTV cameras across the country. Some places had more cybersecurity than others, but overall, it was a simple task, something he had picked up the first month or so after he started learning the art of hacking and coding. It wouldn’t take that long for him to track some of the demons.
“Why should I help you?”
“Think of it this way, darling,” Crowley walked over, stood behind the desk chair, and placed a hand on (Y/N)’s shoulder.
The violent buzzing interrupted anything Crowley was going to say. (Y/N)’s legs vibrated in time with the buzzes. He reached into his pocket and fished out his phone. Sam Winchester flashed across the screen. He held up a finger to Crowley.
“Hold on, I have to take this,” he said.
Just before he was able to accept the call, however, Crowley snatched the phone from his hand.
“Hey!”
“Ah ah ah,” Crowley tsked and wagged a finger. “We are in the middle of a deal.” He ended the call and placed the phone in his pocket.
(Y/N) clenched his jaw. He held out his hand. “Give it back, Crowley.”
“Not until we finished our deal, darling,”
“I never said we had a deal.”
“Then it appears you’re not going to be getting your phone back.”
“Crowley,” he growled.
Crowley chuckled deeply, his chest rumbling. “So tense,” he smirked. “It must be hard. Being out here all by yourself. No ring on your finger, which means that you haven’t got a wife or husband. I’m guessing you don’t have a partner either, considering all you do is sit here and help other hunters.” Crowley slowly ran a finger over (Y/N)’s shoulder blades, eliciting a shiver from him. “How about this deal, then,” Crowley leaned down, his face merely inches from (Y/N)’s. “I get rid of some of your tension and you find the demons for me, deal?”
Crowley’s breath was hot against (Y/N)’s face. The closeness caused his stomach to churn. (Y/N) wouldn’t deny that Crowley was an attractive man - demon, he corrected himself. He had thought so since the first time they met, yet he knew the dangers of getting involved with demons. That was why a small part of him was weary of the Winchesters, seeing how easily they got along with the King of Hell. ‘Got Along’ wasn’t necessarily as accurate as ‘tolerated’. He corrected himself again. When Crowley spoke with that accent, and when his voice was deep and gravelly, it was almost as if (Y/N) was hypnotized.
That accent of his could put anyone in a trance.
“Crowley,” he breathed, unaware that his heart had begun to beat faster.
“The demons get killed, I get what I want, and I leave you more satisfied than you have ever been before,” Crowley’s hand slowly moved up and began to trace along (Y/N)’s jawline. His fingers stopped when he got to (Y/N)’s chin. He tilted his head up so that they were looking into each other’s eyes, their noses brushing against one another. “Have we got a deal?”
Crowley’s eyes were just as hypnotic as his voice. It was as if (Y/N) was staring into an iced glass of whiskey. It was hard to believe that, behind those eyes, stood a dark entity who controlled the deepest, darkest depths of Hell. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him, telling him that it was a bad idea, that he should retreat and reject the offer.
(Y/N) was completely mesmerized.
“Yes,” he whispered faintly.
The corner of Crowley’s lips curled upward. “Then let’s kiss on it.”
(Y/N) didn’t have a chance to respond before Crowley’s lips were on his.
It was heated, hungry, and (Y/N) was slightly ashamed to admit that it had taken his breath away. Ashamed to admit just how engrossed in Crowley’s charismatic attitude he had been. Swiftly, (Y/N) stood from his chair and he was pressed against the desk in an instant. Crowley’s hands worked their way underneath (Y/N)’s t-shirt. It wasn’t long before Crowley’s coat and (Y/N)’s shirt were on the floor. As Crowley reached behind him to grab at the backs of his thighs, (Y/N) pressed his hands firmly on his chest.
“Not here, not here,” he pulled back from his lips, panting from the lack of oxygen. “Let’s go to my room.”
Crowley smirked and ran his tongue over his bottom lip. “Lead the way, darling,” he pulled back.
(Y/N) was quick to pull himself away from the desk and turn to walk out of the room. His strides were long and silent, almost as if he was floating out of the room and towards his bedroom. Crowley followed behind him, moving just as fast if not a little bit faster. He tore off his tie and dropped it onto the floor as they entered the room. Their lips slammed into one another once more as they fell back onto the bed unceremoniously, their bodies bouncing.
(Y/N) was incredibly hard, he felt like a teenager on prom night. He tried to think back and remember the last time he had sex. Had it been two, maybe three weeks? Months. No. Two or three years, it had been. He had lost count. Crowley had been right, he had been so absorbed in his work that he had neglected the wants he never knew he had. The needs. He had found himself to be so uptight as of late that the lack of sex hadn’t been something he considered a factor with such a change of mood. Maybe the sex was just what he needed. It seemed that Crowley knew more about him than he realized.
(Y/N)’s primary goal was getting Crowley’s clothes off. He wanted to see him, wanted to take in every inch of him. Before he was able to grab at Crowley’s belt, however, Crowley pulled back and lifted a hand to stop him. Again, (Y/N) was breathless. He stopped and looked up at him with a questioning gaze.
“Let’s skip the stripping, shall we?” His voice had gotten deeper, darker. His voice alone should have sent the sirens blaring and the red flags waving in (Y/N)’s head, telling him to stop, telling him that it was a bad idea, but all it did was deepen the lust and make his cock twitch in his boxers.
With the snap of his fingers, their clothes had vanished. Immediately, (Y/N) noticed the temperature change, causing his nipples to harden into stiff peaks. He wasn’t worried about his own body, however. His attention was all on Crowley.
He took his time to examine his lover. His eyes trailed. He noted the hair that was meticulously placed over his pecs, the curve of his stomach. Crowley didn’t have a six-pack, but he was nowhere near fat. A slight pudge was probably the best adjective to use. He spotted the tattoos almost instantly, something that came as a surprise to him but wasn’t unappreciated. Crowley’s happy trail started right below his belly button and trailed down to his pelvis, and the mere sight of Crowley’s cock made (Y/N)’s eyes go wide.
Crowley was huge.
Bigger than he had ever seen on a lover before.
To say he was surprised was a massive understatement. He never expected Crowley to be sporting a cock of that size. (Y/N) felt inept next to him. Yet, despite his unbelievable length, (Y/N) felt his mouth water and cock twitch at the thought of it being inside of him. Crowley chuckled.
“Like what you see?” He questioned.
“Yes,” (Y/N) breathed, although he knew the question was rhetorical.
Crowley’s chest rumbled as he leaned down and began to leave kisses down (Y/N)’s neck, down towards the valley of his pecs. He stopped at his nipples, giving each of them attention with small licks and a suckle. A gasp fell from (Y/N)’s lips as his hands occupied themselves with exploring Crowley’s body. (Y/N)’s mind was fogged over, the feeling of being that close to someone already so intense. He really did feel like a teenager.
“You’re so beautiful, love,” Crowley purred as his lips traveled further down his body, ghosting over his stomach. “Almost disappoints me that I’m going to leave you a whimpering mess by the time I’m done.”
“Crowley, please,”
“Begging already, I see.”
Crowley’s lips moved down until they reached (Y/N)’s own happy trail. Just before he reached (Y/N)’s cock, he pulled back, earning a disappointed groan from the man below. The smirk on his face told (Y/N) that Crowley loved the effect that he was having on him. That it was boosting his ego, and if he had been in the right state of mind, he would have stopped right there. The King of Hell didn’t need more of a complex than he already had.
“Spread your legs for me.”
(Y/N) complied, legs parting as Crowley moved onto his stomach. He left kisses on (Y/N)’s inner thighs.
“Have you had anything in this pretty little hole recently?” Crowley asked.
(Y/N) hesitated for a moment before shaking his head. “No,” he admitted.
“Then I guess I’ll have to open you up, won’t I? I don’t want to hurt you.”
It was an oddly sweet sentiment, coming from a demon. Something that a part of (Y/N) didn’t really expect. Yet the other part of him told him that it made sense with Crowley’s character. He was a businessman. He made deals and he kept them. He wanted him to feel good, and (Y/N) wouldn’t be satisfied with his part of the deal if he was in pain.
“I have lube in my nightstand,” (Y/N) spoke up. He could feel Crowley’s hot breath hovering over his exposed hole.
“I’ll get to it, darling,”
Crowley’s tongue lapped at his hole, and (Y/N) swore that he would come from that single lick. He couldn’t hold back the moan as Crowley’s tongue worked around the pink muscle, almost teasing it. The tip of his tongue slipped past the ring for a moment before retreating. Crowley’s arms wrapped around both of his thighs and seemed to pull him closer with godly strength. Then, when he was closer, Crowley’s wet tongue finally slipped past the tight muscle and wiggled its way into his hole.
A deep moan escaped past (Y/N)’s lips as one of his hands shot down and gripped Crowley’s hair. His head was thrown back in ecstasy, thankful for the pillow that was underneath him, thankful that he had decided to move to the bedroom instead of the study. He had concluded that the lack of sex didn’t make him feel like a teenager again, he was a teenager. Rather, it seemed he had a teenager’s lack of control. His cock was twitching, begging to be touched, begging for Crowley to wrap his hand around it and stroke. (Y/N) was too lost in pleasure to do it on his own, and it was just foreplay. Crowley was only preparing him for what was yet to come. If Crowley had him seeing stars already, he knew that Crowley’s prediction of him turning into a ‘whimpering mess’ would be accurate.
Crowley’s tongue was skilled. He reached places inside of him that (Y/N) didn’t even know existed. All too soon, he felt the familiar jerk of his balls, the tensing muscles begging for release. The knot in his stomach was forming.
“C-Crowley,” he moaned. “I’m gonna come. I-”
Crowley hummed against him and pulled back as soon as the warning came to be. Visibly, (Y/N) relaxed, but his face expressed disappointment, much to Crowley’s amusement.
“Already close to release, and I haven’t even touched your cock yet,” Crowley teased, and the words caused (Y/N)’s cheeks to darken with blush. “Can’t have that. I want this to last. I want you to break.”
Crowley hovered over (Y/N) again, their noses inches apart. (Y/N) could feel Crowley’s cock brush against his, causing his cock to twitch violently. Again, Crowley chuckled. He turned his head and reached over to the nightstand, opening the small drawer. It wasn’t as cluttered as the top of (Y/N) desk, but he had to admit that it needed to be cleaned out. It didn’t take long to find the bottle of lube, though, barely used. When Crowley moved back, he kissed him. That kiss was softer, sweet, the complete opposite of the others they had shared.
He pulled away and sat up, leaning back on his heels as he uncapped the lube. He squirted a generous amount onto his right index and middle finger before he set the lube to the side, open and ready if he were to need more. He rubbed his fingers together to spread out the liquid before lowering his hand to (Y/N) wet, needy hole. His index finger began to circle it and he saw how (Y/N)’s cock twitched again. The smirk remained on his face.
“Are you ready?” He asked softly.
“Yes,” (Y/N) barely gave him time to finish the question. “Yes, Crowley, please,”
“I’ll never get over how sweet that word sounds.”
Crowley pushed one finger into him and the stars promptly returned. (Y/N)’s mouth hung open as if he were to say something, but nothing came to mind. Words didn’t exist anymore, only Crowley and his fingers. It didn’t take long for Crowley to begin to pump his finger into him, his dark eyes focused on (Y/N)’s face, intensely taking in every reaction he gave. Sweat began to glisten on (Y/N)’s brow, dripping down the side of his face and onto the sheet below. His hands were fisted at his sides, straining the bedding. When Crowley felt his hole loosen even the slightest, he added his middle finger.
After several seconds of having Crowley insert his second finger, the knot was back and forming inside (Y/N)’s stomach. It was tight and just kept getting tighter with each stroke. When Crowley’s fingers curled ever so slightly, (Y/N)’s body violently jerked and he had to hold onto the bed as he fought back the orgasm that was quickly approaching. He went to say something, but all that came out were moans and whimpers of pleasure. He didn’t trust himself to stop Crowley before his impending climax.
Of course, Crowley was observant himself and knew when to back away.
Crowley pulled his hand away from him, leaving his hole empty and his mind screaming for release. Crowley brought his fingers to his lips, wrapping them around his digits as he suckled the leftover lube and flavor off of them. He quirked a brow as he took his fingers out of his mouth.
“Strawberry flavored?” He questioned.
(Y/N)’s chest rose and fell at a rapid pace. His chest and face gleamed with sweat, ever more apparent because of the morning light that filtered past his blinds.
“It was all they had left.” He was able to mutter.
A deep chuckle rumbled within Crowley’s chest as he grabbed the lube from beside him once again. That time, he put some into the palm of his right hand and capped the bottle, setting it back onto the side table. He wrapped his hand around his cock and lathered it up with the lube. He hissed, jaw clenched at the cool temperature.
“You don’t mind raw, do you, darling?” He asked as he shifted in the bed so that he hovered directly above (Y/N) writhing body.
“No,” (Y/N) was quick to respond. “No, I don’t mind just, please, please Crowley.” His desperate cries would have normally made him embarrassed, ashamed of the mess he had turned into, but he couldn’t care less. His brain didn’t belong to him anymore. It belonged to Crowley. His body wasn’t his, it was Crowley’s. All of him belonged to Crowley.
And he was fine with that.
“I’ll go slow,” Crowley said. “Let me know if it’s too much for you to handle.”
It was too much to handle when Crowley was eating him out, but (Y/N) knew what he meant. He gave a quick nod of understanding. His hands immediately moved from the sheets to Crowley. One hand was placed on Crowley’s shoulder, while the other reached back, fingers entangled in the mess of brown hair.
One of Crowley’s hands was placed on the bed, holding himself up, while the other hand reached down and grabbed his cock. He guided it to (Y/N)’s hole and, when he felt comfortable with the positioning, he moved his hand and placed it on the other side of (Y/N)’s body. Slowly, he moved his hips forward, the head of his cock pushing past the ring of muscle with some resistance before he entered him.
(Y/N) wasn’t seeing stars anymore - he was seeing a whole galaxy. The slight painful strain mixed with bliss as Crowley pushed the head of his cock inside of him was almost too much to bear at first. He felt like his balls were going to explode with pleasure. His nails dug into Crowley’s shoulder and scalp as he continued to inch his way inside. Crowley studied (Y/N)’s face, the way his mouth hung open and eyes closed. When half of his cock was engulfed in his warmth, Crowley pulled back out a couple of inches before he thrust back inside. (Y/N) couldn’t stop the sounds from escaping his lips. Equally, as such, Crowley let out a deep, guttural groan.
“So tight, darling. So…fucking tight,” he growled out, sounding almost feral.
“M-More, Crowley, please, more,” (Y/N)’s voice had gone up in pitch and the need was laced throughout his tone.
Crowley didn’t need any more indication. His hips began to pick up in speed, slowly at first, but after a while of making sure that his lover wasn’t in any pain, he went faster. While (Y/N) wasn’t able to take all of Crowley’s length inside of him, what was able to fit resulted in a cacophony of moans that echoed throughout the room. The bed rocked, the frame squeaking underneath the pressure as Crowley rhythmically snapped his hips.
When (Y/N) had gotten used to the pleasure - ‘used to’ wasn’t the right phrasing, but rather adapted to it - he was able to open his eyes long enough to reach up, cup Crowley’s cheeks, and bring himself up to kiss him roughly. Crowley returned the kiss. Their tongues danced with each other. (Y/N) could taste a mixture of himself and the strawberry-flavored lube on Crowley’s tongue.
Each thrust brought a new wave of pleasure, Crowley’s cock brushing against his prostate. (Y/N)’s cock and balls jerked and he knew that he wasn’t going to last much longer. He pulled away, one of his hands falling to Crowley’s chest, which was equally as sweat-covered as his. It was difficult to find the strength to speak, at first, but he mustered up what little control of himself he had to do so.
“Crowley,” he moaned. “I’m gonna come. Please, can I come?”
“Not yet,” Crowley sounded breathless. “I want to come with you.”
“Want you to come inside me.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!” He moaned loudly as Crowley’s cock stroked his prostate again.
Crowley growled as his lips dove down towards (Y/N)’s neck, littering it with small kisses, teeth scraping over his skin.
“I can’t wait to fill you up. Can’t wait to make you mine,” Crowley growled.
(Y/N) did everything in his power to hold back his orgasm, the one thing he had been trying to reach all this time. It became harder and harder the more they went on. Finally, he felt Crowley’s thrusts start to sputter, and Crowley’s grunts and moans were getting higher in pitch. Crowley reached between their bodies, his hand finding (Y/N)’s cock and he began to stroke it in time with his thrusts.
“Come.”
And that was all the permission he needed. (Y/N) came hard, cock spasming violently in Crowley’s hand and balls convulsing as he shot his load onto his and Crowley’s chests and stomachs. Planets, stars, galaxies, universes, it was almost as if (Y/N) was lost in time and space itself. If he didn’t know any better, he swore he would have passed out from the pleasure had it not been for Crowley keeping him grounded.
Following his orgasm, he felt Crowley still inside of him and, soon, felt the warm sensation of his load deep within his hole. They stayed there, interlocked with one another, their bodies completely frozen in time. What felt like ages later, Crowley slowly pulled out of him, a wet pop echoing throughout the room, before he collapsed beside him on the bed. (Y/N)’s arms fell beside him, his chest moving rapidly as he struggled to regain his composure.
As he lay there, post-orgasmic clarity set in.
He had fucked the King of Hell.
More importantly, he had fucked the King of Hell and liked it.
God, he was such a terrible hunter.
His eyes trailed over to Crowley, who was still recovering from his own orgasm. He could see faint, red scratch marks across his face, chest, and right shoulder. (Y/N) didn’t even realize his nails had dug into him until then. Crowley turned his head towards him.
“Well you weren’t the whimpering mess that I assumed you would be,” Crowley began. “But I’ll take begging any day.”
(Y/N) couldn’t help but roll his eyes and he had found the strength to speak to be gone by that point. What was he even supposed to say to him? Thanks for the sex, I’ll go find your demons now? With one-night stands, he would always just get up, grab his clothes, and walk out of the motel room, but this was a little different. He was in his own home. Was he just supposed to kick Crowley out? That would seem a bit rude, wouldn’t it?
“Care for a cuddle?” Crowley’s words broke his train of thought.
“A what?” His voice had returned.
“A cuddle.”
(Y/N) snorted. “The King of Hell wants to cuddle.” He said it more like a statement rather than a question.
“I take care of my lovers, (Y/N). Aftercare is just as important as foreplay.”
(Y/N) opened his mouth to speak, but found, again, that the words were lost to him. He just gave a simple nod and the two of them moved closer together. Crowley wrapped an arm underneath his shoulders and over his waist, pulling their naked bodies close. (Y/N) placed one of his hands on Crowley’s torso, his head lying against his chest. A part of him was expecting to hear a heartbeat echo in his ear, but the lack thereof only reminded him of his sins. They sat in silence for a while, embracing one another. Crowley’s hand slowly rubbed (Y/N)’s hips, and it made him realize just how sore he was going to be for a while.
He didn’t care.
“You know,” Crowley finally spoke up. “If you ever become too tense, you can always give me a call. I have no problem giving in to your needs.”
“I’m not that desperate,” (Y/N) mumbled.
Crowley chuckled, and (Y/N) could feel the vibration against his fingertips and cheek. “I beg to differ, darling, with the way you were just begging for release.”
(Y/N)’s cheeks heated up. He knew what he had done was wrong, but whoever said that hunters had to be perfect? Or right, for that matter. No one had gotten hurt - maybe he would hurt for a while after this, but that was beside the point - and demons were going to be hunted down as a result of their deal. Crowley wasn’t a selfish lover, quite the contrary. He was the best that (Y/N) ever had. He was only human. Despite the moral aspect of it all, perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to have someone like Crowley just a call away.
For his needs.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
#Supernatural#supernatural#SPN#spn#Supernatural x Reader#supernatural x reader#spn x reader#SPN x Reader#Crowley Macleod#Crowley x Reader#Crowley x Male!Reader#Male!Reader#Supernatural Scribe#Supernatural Smut#Supernatural x Male!Reader#SPN x Male!Reader#Crowley Macleod Smut#Crowley Smut
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A Magnus (Protocol) By Any Other Name…
…will be just as horrifying.
Well, it’s time for me to dust off the corkboard, unravel some fresh red yarn, and cook up some new incredibly wrong but passionate theories. First one is bouncing off some key points:
1) The Magnus Protocol’s logo is composed of certain alchemic symbols, chiefly a version of the sign involved with creating the Philosopher’s Stone; the catalyst for riches and the Elixir of Life’s gift of immortality.
Especially tasty to consider, what with the first episode introducing us to poor Red Canary who discovered the ruins of the Magnus Institute were host to some strange symbols of its own inside.
2) A fellow by the name of Saint Albertus Magnus was kicking around in the 1200s and, like that famous French scribe Nicolas Flamel, he got a hefty posthumous reputation for having been a great alchemist on top of being a philosopher and scientist.
What does this add up to? First, I want to look at identity possibilities when it comes to who the Magnus(es) in question might be here.
Theory A: Jonah Magnus was part of a lineage with an itch to chase the more-than-earthly and, naturally, immortality. If not a direct descendant, then a sibling or cousin line. Can’t say Albertus would be jumping to congratulate the bastard for his ‘success story.’
Theory B: With apologies to the actual Albertus, maybe Jonah is that original alchemic Magnus. Or at least he wore the guy once upon a time and kept the surname. Maybe he fudged the ye olde records some centuries back. Death records, life records, whether or not old Al ran into some unsavory character with unpleasant gray eyes…
Theory C: Circles a bit back to A, in that Jonah wasn’t the only one in his family tree poking around supernatural and supernal forces. Assuming Jonah existed as himself at all in this place. Someone or something else might have been running this world’s Magnus Institute before it was roasted. While the current assumption is that the cast of characters we knew in The Magnus Archives might exist within TMP’s universe as themselves, we don’t have all the pieces yet.
Fun stuff!
But oh. Oh boy. I am chewing apart the implications of the main logo and the ‘protocol’ like an excited dog. Specifically, the possible implications of the Philosopher’s Stone symbol visible in the logo not being this…
…but this.
The sign is inverted. Which shouldn’t mean much, right? All the other little symbols chilling in there are right side up, what’s the big deal?
The same kind of deal that we see in the difference between a pentacle, associated with magic and pagan faiths in various forms:
And a pentagram, associated point blank with outright devilish and demonic dabbling:
Or, if you’re up on your Tarot, you know that there’s a world of difference between getting your card right-side up (delivering on the image’s classic meaning) versus flipping it to see the picture inverted (the opposite of the original intent).
So what does that mean for the TMP’s symbol, the same stamp which we might assume the Office of Incident, Assessment and Response has on their workplace? My guess: This is the insignia of a force or founder who put the ‘protocol’ in The Magnus Protocol. A foundation based on actively opposing what they took to be forces of a classically alchemic and/or infernal nature rather than the cosmic horrors we know the Fears as.
The Enemy is using these powers to evil ends. The Enemy is made of monsters. The Enemy includes Jonah Magnus, the spoiled offshoot of Albertus Magnus. Our sign is the opposition to his and others’ vicious quest.
Or suchlike.
In the style of Gertrude Robinson, the original person or persons behind the Protocol and our main characters’ Office appears to have hit upon a ‘fight fire with fire’ reaction to the Fears. We see how Alice, a veteran employee of the Office, displays a strong insistence on categorizing its statements very, very loosely, and actively not prying into deeper research in the way a place wholly possessed by the Eye would encourage. She’s seen people go strange upon following the lure of weirdness; but she knows from experience that the Office can be worked in jovially enough, sans side effects. The implication being that Colin is sprinting down that rabbit hole, poor dude.
If the OIAR is of the Eye, it is also against the Eye. Against all Fears, even as it absorbs statements of their actions. Feeding its patron while also cutting back the portions by way of not being too careful about the filing or the tasty background research. If the Eye is present at all in the Office, then it is settling for granola bars versus Jonah Magnus’ offered banquets.
Which all comes back to the question of:
If Jonah Magnus founded the Institute here, who is responsible for the OIAR?
My pet favorite is the ‘one who got away’ as far as Jonah’s classic 19th century days went—one Dr. Jonathan Fanshawe who got an eyeful of a victim’s blinking innards and broke ties with Magnus like they were pretzel sticks. We never do find out what became of him afterward.
His last written words to Jonah ran:
Nothing stood in the way of my retreat, and I dragged Albrecht’s body back as far as the coach. We left that awful place, and I have endeavored most acutely to forget the route.
Before he was buried, I was able to secure permission to do an autopsy. I had some thought as to discovering the cause of his sudden, violent passing. Do I need to tell you what I found, Jonah? Do I need to detail what covered his organs, his bones, the inside of his skin? What clustered together in their dozens, and all turned as one to focus on me as I opened his chest, their pupils constricting in the light, with irises of every hue and color? Because whatever it was that did this to him, I know in my heart that it is your fault.
I have had the body burned. Please do not write to me again.
Your obedient servant,
Doctor Jonathan Fanshawe.
You can feel the polite antique ice on that goodbye. Just as we can read here, and glean from his full letter, that the whole experience surrounding poor Albrecht is one he actively wishes he could forget. To not examine. And, of course, there’s the baited hook of Jonathan Sims’ next lines after reading the letter aloud:
Statement ends.
(sigh) Disconcerting to find my namesake in a statement, especially one connected so directly to the Institute. I can only hope breaking faith with Jonah Magnus didn’t go too badly for him.
I can’t think of a better ironic hell for the good doctor than to find himself the abrupt focus of the Eye all over again. Especially when the meat of the letter-statement involves this scene:
“I had them rebound last year,” he said. “Damp can do terrible things to a book.” I told him I was certain that that was the case, but I must insist we talk about his health. Again he ignored me. Instead, he took the seat opposite me and started to tell me a story. And then another. And another. A stream of strange tales began to pour out of him, and I just sat there, transfixed, desperately wishing I had the strength of will to leave, but all I could do was listen.
He told me of a seamstress, who laced her body with fine black thread, and when she pulled it all out in a single swift motion, her skin dropped away like a loose shift. He told me of a man so scared to die he spent a year weaving a rope blindfolded, so he would not know the length, and could not foresee the moment it would tighten around his neck when he finally threw himself into the void. He told me of a fire that burns so hot and fierce that to even know about it is enough to burn a man’s tongue from his head. He told me so many terrible things.
And at the end of it all, the only thing I could think to ask him was where he read them. My eyes darted to the books that surrounded us, but Albrecht laughed at this, and placed his hands across a spine that was simply labeled ‘A Warning.’ For a moment, he looked as though he were about to wrench it from its place and hurl it into the fire. But it passed. He turned back to me. “You do not understand,” he said to me in German. “I do not read the books. They read me.”
Isn’t that something? A crossing of paths with the Eye that wasn’t just inflicting its Stare upon him through a victim or an avatar, but effectively pinning Dr. Fanshawe in the role of the unhappily avid audience, however briefly. Forced to absorb a litany of horrors as another Jonathan would so many years later. Good foundation for someone who, upon discovering the insidious supernatural Powers That Be were not about to leave him alone, would try his best to turn that force into something to use against the monsters. A habit among Archivists who’ve had Jonah Magnus inflicted on them.
Assuming it is Fanshawe at the roots here, the act of designing a symbol centered on inverting the Philosopher’s Stone sigil makes sense. Cosmic and eldritch horror wasn’t really on the table for that era. But the demonic and the arcane were. As were, we can assume, history books to do with famous old Albertus Magnus and his possible connection to Jonah ‘Wants to Be an Immortal All-Powerful Specialboy’ Magnus. Whether it’s Dr. Fanshawe behind the OIAR’s inception or not, having it be somebody from Jonah Magnus’ early days works out—they would assume the bogeymen at work were merely hellish, nothing broader.
Plus, there’s just plain narrative convenience to consider. ‘19th century guy knows Magnus is up to shit with his Institute. Gets suspicious. Gets avatar’d against his will. Gets proactive about it. Named Jonathan, good for a bait-and-switch down the line.’
But, I could obviously be 1000% wrong, as per usual with ¾ of my Magnus-flavored theories. It could be someone or something entirely unrelated, though I’m keeping my fingers crossed for Fanshawe. Especially when I stop to think about how very fond the Fears are of avatars who play hard to get, forcing their essence and power on those who want it least.
The arachnophobic Annabelle Cane.
The endlessly exhausted Oliver Banks.
The goodwilled and betrayed Michael Shelley.
The empathetic sacrificial lamb of Jonathan Sims.
And perhaps, there at the start, Jonathan Fanshawe. Seeing and being Seen, balking at the Ceaseless Watcher’s work and the stories it wanted to share with him. Maybe, maybe.
We’ll just have to wait and See. 👁️
#guess who's back on the wildly inaccurate theorizing bullshit babeyyy#the magnus protocol#the magnus archives#jonah magnus#albertus magnus#jonathan fanshawe#theory
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StarScribes Introduction
About Me
Star (she/her)
Married
Middle School Teacher
I have a lot of responsibilities and don't get much time to myself but when I do I spend that time watching TV, writing, reading, playing D&D, playing video games (the Sims 4), and spending casual time with my family
US located
I used to be @houndsofcorduff but then I disappeared and started a simblr blog and now it's time to get on writeblr again
Writing
Mostly fantasy of varying levels, although I have dabbled in science fiction (I like to watch sci-fi more than write it - that's where my name came from actually, the Stargate franchise)
My favorite author is Brandon Sanderson
No, I don't think I'll ever publish anything, just scribe vibing
I love worldbuilding, magic system building, monster building, etc
Warning: I rarely finish anything I start
Blog
Ask game, tag game, ask, etc friendly
Reblogging stuff I like about writing
Posting snippets of my own writing
Participating in Nanowrimo (buddy me: stargatetribe)
Main/Simblr: @starandsims
Thanks for visiting and learning about me!
WIPs under the cut
Current WIP
Crescent Unbound - A stand-alone fantasy novel following Astrid Vale, a girl left orphaned by the last battle between good and evil. 20 years later she awakens an artifact with great power, it whispers of the return of evil. She must return it to the Chosen One so that it can be used to banish evil once again, but the quest is not as easy as it may seem.
Main Series: The Destiny Chronicles
Overall Synopsis: A generational series that follows a variety of supernatural beings: The Devlins (monster hunters); Seers (see the future), Sandmen (travel/control dreams), Mages (control a variety of magics), Cruth (control elements), and hybrids. Follows certain individuals chosen by Destiny to stop a great evil, and involves a lot of crossover until the end when everyone meets up for the big bad battle.
Book One: Retrospection - 1976 Earth - Russell Walker is a 16-year-old Seer dating Alexis Devlin a 16-year-old monster hunter. When she reveals his identity as a Seer and subsequently explains he's being hunted by a Seer-eating monster, they run away together - unfortunately not to fall in love but rather to save his life.
Book Two: Otherworld - 2007 Otherworld - Maxine Devlin was born into a family of monster hunters, but after 17 years she still hasn’t been allowed to fulfill that role. She has read every journal her ancestors have written and knows everything there is to know about monsters…or so she thinks. After her uncle and cousin go missing, she takes it upon herself to investigate and find them. Very quickly she finds herself in over her head as she travels to a dimension called Otherworld, where she discovers there is much more to magic than she once assumed.
Book Three: Shades of Night - 2010 Shadow - Sebastian Devlin has been to other dimensions before - technically just the one other than the one he was born in. That doesn't make it any easier though when he's dragged through a portal by the monster he's hunting. On his own this time, he'll have to find a way home, if that's even possible. Before he can do that though, he'll have to solve this new dimensions monster problem.
Book Four: Lost in Atlantis - 2011 Atlantis - The Devlin family is back together on a special mission to search the dimension of Atlantis for a particularly dangerous monster - the one that's been hunting Sebastian. The dimension of Atlantis has been abandoned for centuries, but almost immediately they find a single survivor, an impossible face from the past.
Book Five: Vengeance at the Door - 2013 Earth - Sebastian Devlin the monster hunter has become the hunted, chased across multiple states and dimensions by a horrifying visage either of his imagination or reality. Now in Boston, he's just trying to live off the radar of any monster or creature. As the patients at the mental hospital where he works begin to see the same visages he's been seeing, does he run again? Or get himself slaughtered?
Book Six: Heartwood - 2015 Shadow - Janina Heartwood is a good little sister, she picks food off of her brother's plate, puts leaves in his hair, sticks up for him, and trusts him to the edge of the world. After a mysterious man reveals that her brother, Jake, is adopted and descended from a line of monster hunters called the Devlins, she follows him to another dimension to protect him. Now she, Jake, and her boyfriend, Ethan, find themselves trying to destroy an evil entity known as the Sluagh. Janina fights shapeshifters, gremlins, pirates, and more to protect her brother, but will it be enough?
Book Seven: Bring Me a Dream - 2015 Earth - Reynolds McNeil is a Sandman slowly turning into a Nightmare just trying to live out his final few months keeping his friends out of trouble and protecting his little sister from his scary world. Instead, he gets kidnapped and taken to an underground fight ring for augmented humans like himself.
Book Eight: Dream Treader - 2016 Unnamed Dimension - Rescued at the last second by their thought-to-be dead brother, Reynolds and Louie discover there's a lot more to their strange powers than they thought. Things continue to get complicated as they are hunted by a different kind of enemy determined to rid the world of Destiny's chosen - them and their friends.
Book Nine: Moonlight Dreams - 2017 multiple dimensions - Still on the run but now without their leader, Reynolds and his friends try to learn everything they can about why they're being hunted. In the process they rescue their leader, who now must accept that it's time to start the endgame and bring together all of Destiny's chosen before they're hunted down.
Book Ten: Among Infinities - 2017 Isfyd - Carson has lived his entire life in the middle of a Civil War, and most of that was on the wrong side. Although he's on the right side now there are few who believe he's anything other than a spy. When Carson discovers there is a real spy out there he must discover the spy's identity before he's found guilty himself.
Book Eleven: Diplopia - 2018 Isfyd - Carson, now a prisoner of his mother and in the process of resisting her brainwashing, discovers this isn't the first time she's brainwashed him or erased his memories. Exploring his memories and his old home reveals answers and more questions.
Book Twelve: Splintered Crown - 2019 Earth- Freshly rescued, Carson and his friends flee to Earth to find the one thing that can stop his mother and her army - a girl with no idea who she is or how to use her powers, and absolutely no interest in joining their rebellion.
Book Thirteen: Destiny - 2020 Earth - Earth is invaded by soldiers from Isfyd, it will take all of Destiny's chosen to defeat the great evil they've been waiting for. The Devlins, the McNeils, the Moons, and Carson and his friends are the only chance this dimension has. It's looking increasingly like it won't be enough.
Other WIPs
Hounds of Corduff - 1800s Isfyd - A four-book series following the three Cruth apprentices of Corduff as they battle with and against each other in the middle of propaganda and other lies forcing them each further away from the truth.
The Elder Mage - 1976 - 2015 Various dimensions - a series of short stories following Denham Moon, who some would call Earth's most powerful mage. He's been entrusted with bringing together Destiny's chosen at the appropriate time, but he's mostly just procrastinating since he's pretty sure he won't make it through that appropriate time.
Old Gods - a 9-book series following Em'het, a curious and multi-talented boy with great magics who fights the gods to save his family, but after several years of doing the same thing over and over again he wonders if there's a point to any of it if the gods he faces just keep getting stronger and smarter.
Prince of Fireflies - a TV series that follows teenage twins Charlie and Riley as they attempt to keep their younger brother Liam out of trouble with his mysterious light powers. They're mostly unsuccessful.
The Peculiar Adventures of Michael Mallory - an unnumbered book series that follows 9-year-old Michael Mallory after he sneaks aboard his older brother's spaceship. While in the process of trying to return Michael, Nicholas Mallory and his crew are attacked and forced to hyperjump without their navigation machines online. Now they're lost in space, who knows how far from home, and somehow raising a 9-year-old.
The Disappearing Place - just one book - 12-year-old Martin Ramsey has a bad habit of disappearing, blinking in and out of existence seemingly at random. His brother Bartholomew tries to help but ends up making things worse when he starts disappearing too. In a wacky time-traveling dilemma the brothers have to figure out what is happening and why to try and get back home, while continually randomly jumping in and out of time and space.
#writeblr#writeblr introduction#writeblr intro#fantasy writing#writer introduction#writer intro#writers of tumblr#novel writing#author#fiction#original fiction#original characters#writing community
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𝕽𝖆𝖎𝖘𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖓 𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉 (𝔭𝔱.2)
(Dean Winchester x Reader)
(masterlist)
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Sam and Dean are on the road looking into a lead that Castiel had given them. Sam is hoping that this will get them a step closer to getting Dean some help. Meanwhile, Dean is reluctant because the lead doesn't sound promising in aiding Cass in the hunt for Metatron. He thinks this will be a waste of time, but little does he know what he and his brother will find waiting for them in Cincinnati. Meanwhile, you are on a mission to find out why exactly Crowley has sent a demon to come and find you.
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SPN spoilers, the usual supernatural violence, torture and gore that may not be suitable for all audiences.
Sam was riding in the Impala beside Dean while he was driving. Castiel asked them to go to Cincinnati, Ohio to look into a lead. There was a report that a demon went to some sort of tattoo parlor and hadn't been seen again.
No one was sure if it was related to Metatron, or if an angel under him had something to do with it. Dean was a little skeptical at first but in the end he agreed to go with Sam, hoping this wouldn't be some sort of wild goose chase. It's like they've left every stone unturned when it came to locating the former Scribe of God but they would come in empty handed every time and it was really getting under Dean's skin.
"This had better be worth it, other wise we're just wasting time when we could be looking into an actual lead, not to mention it's a waste of Baby's gas." Dean said with a bit of a grumble. Sam rolled his eyes at the last part of the remark.
"With the amount of credit card frauds we've undergone, I think the car's gas is the least of our worries." Sam said with an arched brow and Dean shrugged a bit, gaze still transfixed on the road.
The constant burning in Dean's arm was relentless with the mark. He knew that he had the urge to kill. Something needed to be done, he needed to kill something on this hunt to get some sort of relief, even if it was temporary.
Sam had told Dean not to bring the first blade along. At first, Dean complied but the second that Sam wasn't looking, he tucked it into his jacket for safe keeping. After all, what if Metatron just showed up spontaneously? What if they ran into more than just a handful of demons on this 'new lead' Cass sent them on? Bringing the first blade was a necessary precaution even if Sam didn't see it that way.
"Dean? You alright, man?" Sam asked. Dean perked up when he was broken from his thoughts. But the older brother nodded a little.
"Yeah. Just hoping that this lead won't be a waste. If we don't take care of this mess soon, who knows what that bastard will do. Metatron has to die and we can't afford any more screw ups. Not when we've lost enough people over it." Dean said.
"Then there's the fact that Cass is obviously having trouble finding what he needs. I should be over there helping him out. He needs some answers and those stupid angels don't know how to get it out of the other angels they capture. they don't know a damned thing about interrogation and who knows when things will get worse on his end." He continued on.
Sam frowned, understanding where Dean was coming from. He couldn't blame Dean for feeling bad about Kevin. Nobody wanted something like that to happen. He was just a kid. And Kevin didn't deserve Gadreel killing him like that.
"Dean, if they need help with some interrogation tactics then I'm sure that Cass will give us a call. Especially considering your... experience. And I'm just as angry as you are about what happened to Kevin. I get what you're going through. But unless we have any other leads to follow, this is the best one that we've got for the time being." Sam said.
Dean took in Sam's words and his jaw tensed, his grip tightened on the steering wheel as his brows furrowed together. The mere mention of what happened to that kid was enough to make his blood boil.
"How could you possibly understand what I'm going through, huh? There's been enough shit in our lives, this mark is the only thing that has brought any hope in this whole damned disaster, and you do nothing but nag about the so called effects you think it gives me. It's always one argument after another over the one thing that can bring all of this shit to an end." Dean practically snapped.
Sam was a little shocked that he'd burst like that, yet he wasn't really surprised at what had been eating at his brother. He knew Dean wasn't one to open up about how he felt, but he didn't to a good job at hiding the fact that he was bothered either.
"Okay, wrong choice of words. But putting an end to this mess is a part of why we're out here right? As long as it's a step forward, then it's at least a step closer to the goal. It's a Hell of a lot better than taking five steps back, right?" Sam said with that typically optimistic tone that he seemed to have most of the time. The tone that Dean didn't always understand when things seemed to be at its darkest.
The real reason for coming to Ohio right now was because Cass had a hunch that it wasn't one of Metatron's angels that may have killed that demon. Maybe this person would be able to assist in killing Metatron. But what Sam was hoping for the most was that this would be the break they needed. That this lead would be the foretold, missing daughter of Cain. Dean needed a win, and Sam was hoping that this would be some kind of win for the both of them. Someone to help ease the suffering, help Dean gain some kind of control.
"Yeah, I guess you're right, Sammy. But if this thing turns out to be a disaster then you won't be hearing the end of it."
"Yeah, I've already gathered that." Sam said with a slight smirk.
Dean rolled his eyes a little before he leaned forward and pushed a button on the Impala's radio to play one of his cassette tapes. The next thing they knew, they were listening to Would by Alice in Chains.
"Well this is kind of different from your classic rock you normally play isn't it?" Sam asked and Dean shrugged.
"Nothing wrong with a little variety once in a while."
But once there was silence in the car again, outside of the music that was being played, Dean focused on the road. It would be another day before they'd get to Ohio. Then they could get this little 'lead' over and done with. Then he'd be able to kill some sort of monster or he could check on Castiel and see if he needed help with gathering information from Metatron's angels.
Either way, the mark was thirsting for blood, and Dean was trying his best to hold it together to keep Sam off his back.
You were growing antsy. The burning mark on your arm was more intense than it had ever been before. And somehow, you were sensing that there was another barer of the mark. They hadn't killed in a while and you could almost feel the thirst that person was going through as well.
But you were having enough of it. You had to know who this person was and you were willing to do anything to get to the bottom of it. Because surely this person, this mortal, had no idea what they were getting themselves into.
Needless to say, your little shop was closed for the day and your appointments were cancelled of course. And now, you were in your own cellar beneath your store.
There you had a summoning circle, an iron chair, and there was a demon trapped inside since the devil's trap was engraved into the iron shackles attached to the arms of the chair.
"What do you want with me? We know you killed one of the other demons just for stepping here. If you don't want to be found then why did you summon me?" The demon asked.
"Oh, Sweetie, who said that you were the one in charge of asking questions?" You asked with a chuckle as you moved your rolling table. On top of that table was your, what you liked to call, interrogation utensils.
You stooped down to the demon you had in a bind and you held your blade up to its chin. Now, this was no ordinary blade. Granted it wasn't as legendary as the First Blade, nor was it the demon blade that Ruby used to carry, but it was something similar that killed demons, angels, and monsters alike.
"Now, don't make this easy on me. It's been a while since I've enjoyed a good, slow kill." You smirked and the demon's eyes widened. The rumors were right. You were just as menacing as your father before you.
"But what if I don't know anything?" The demon asked as it regained its composure and attempted to be as unphased by you. You cocked your head to the side and shrugged a little before placing the side of the demon's cheek and watched the steam appear from the vessel's flesh since the blade was previously dipped in Holy Water. The demon hissed and gritted his teeth as if he tried not to scream.
"Well then, I get to have my own kind of fun. It's not like I can let you go now that you know where I am." You said.
"Now. Why is your pathetic king searching for me, hmm?" You asked and the demon's eyes shown black as he glared at you.
"If I'm going to die anyway, I'll never tell you." But then you slashed his cheek, causing him to wince as the wound started to bubble up due to the Holy Water.
"Oh, but I think you will. Now I'll ask you a second time: Why is Crowley looking for me."
"I will not betray the King of Hell."
Your brows narrowed. You had told him not to make it easy, but you needed to know why you were being sought after. You had to know what Crowley already knew incase you needed to go into hiding again.
So, you took your knife and cut off one of the demon's fingers before you dipped the wound in salt. Hearing the cries of the demon was a little annoying but you had to admit, there was finally a soothing feeling in your arm from the mark you were born with. It was finally some sort of release.
"Y-Your mark! He wants to know more about your mark to help a Winchester." The demon said.
You perked up when he finally gave some kind of information. You supposed losing a finger would have that effect on almost anyone.
"So your King that's too good to get his hands dirty is helping a human? Who is this Winchester?" You asked as the demon's head hung low.
You rolled your eyes with annoyance and you lifted the blade to his chin to make him have eye contact with you.
"If you have that much of a problem looking at me, I'll gouge those eyes right out of your skull. Now talk." You said as your eyes started to glow red.
"His name is Dean. Crowley was having trouble with the Knight of Hell, Abaddon. He went to Dean for help and they found your father. Your father gave Cain the Mark and Crowley wants to know more about it to hold the information over the Winchester's head to get what he wants, I assume." The demon spilled.
You lifted a brow as your eyes changed back to their normal color and you stood upright.
So, Crowley wanted some leverage, huh? You supposed that he couldn't exactly find the information he needed from some kind of book outside of the fabled Book of the Damned. No one seemed to know where that book was and that would have at least some kind of information Crowley could be after.
"That's all I know. let me go. I won't tell anyone where you are. Just spare me." The demon pleaded and you looked down at him again.
"Oh, Sweet Cheeks. I can't go around trusting demons not to give away my location. I'm sorry but you're just going to have to suffer." You said.
And with that, you placed your hand on the demon's head and your eyes glowed red once more. Suddenly, the demon started to let out a bloodcurdling scream and his eye sockets were glowing red. Blood started dripping from his eyes and the drops started rolling down his face like tears. Red droplets came out of his pores like sweat before turning into a black ooze.
Yet you looked at the demonic scum without a hint of expression in your eyes. But finally, finally there was a relief from the constant pain in your arm.
Once the demon was finally dead, you looked at the body. That has been the second demon you killed. But at least you got the information you wanted.
"Dean Winchester.." You muttered the name before looking down at the mark on your arm.
It hadn't even been two minutes but the pain was back like you needed to kill yet again. You placed your knife on the table and let your thumb graze over your mark.
"Dean, you don't realize what you've done."
Thank you guys so much for reading! I know I got this out a little later than I would have liked to've published but I had a friend from Germany come and visit me. I am hoping to get Part 3 released soon! Thank you for your continued support! If you would like to be tagged let me know! Wishing all of you the best!!
𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭:
@johannelis2302nely @justtrying2getby-blog @deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373 @alternativeprincess @doctorlexilouwhosblog
#supernatural#supernatural imagine#dean winchester#jensen ackles#dean imagine#supernatural x reader#dean winchester imagine#dean x reader#spnfandom#mark of cain#sam winchester#castiel#spn fanfic#spn rewatch#supernatural family#supernatural fic#moc dean#moc!dean#dean winchester fanfiction
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If you want Christians and vampires you should DEFINITELY check out @epnona-the-wisp 's Power in the Blood it's so good
MC isn't a Christian so it might not be exactly like what you were talking about but. it's really good in a different way anskfnsj it lives so rent free in my head you have no idea
"Some of them look like they walked out of a history book. It's probably because they're religious." <-most iconic line in this story
I love the narration, by the way. And I love the fact that the Christian vampires thing isn't really the focus, just that it's a Thing. XD. However, beloved larissa-the-scribe, it had romance *instantly dies because I'm allergic to it.*
Okay, but jokes asides, that was really good! Just a fun little romp of a story and it makes me happy to see people writing stuff like this! I know I've posted more vampireish stories than I can count myself (probably not a lot but I sure can't count them) because I didn't know if there existed anyone who was interested in doing something like this with vamps and other supernaturals. So thank you for sharing!
Honestly, it's pretty short so y'all should read it too. It's fun and just one of those things you could call a delight from the day (ironically)
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CELTIC FOLKLORE&MYTHOLOGY 101
The Celts have a rich and beautiful history but one that is filled with many sorrows as well. From the invasion of the Roman Armies , to the forced conversion to christianity. Many of what we know now about the pre-colonization of the celtic people are through the "surviving" stories written by the Romans which occupied the lands and later the christian scribes of the middle ages. Some myths have only survived as stories passed down through Oral Traditions. Or through adopting Christian Attributes.
But even then, what has survived is but a mere fraction of what used to be, most surviving Celtic mythology belongs to the Insular Celtic peoples (the Gaels of Ireland and Scotland; the Celtic Britons of western Britain and Brittany). When it comes to written folklore and mythologies of the celtic people, the Irish have the largest written myths in the region only seconded by the written Welsh mythologies.
Today we will be focusing mainly on the Irish and Welsh Folklore and Mythology
Below I will list some of the names of the deities and spirits found throughout the Irish Folklore and Mythos
Morrigan- Shape shifting Goddess Who Hovered over the battlefields as a crow or raven
Danu- Irish Mother Goddess
Dagda-Irish God Of Life and Death as well as Magick, Married to Morrigan
Brigid - Celtic Goddess of Fire, Poetry, Cattle and patroness of smiths
Arwan- God of the Celtic underworld
Taranis- God Of Thunder
Excerpt from wikipedia
IRISH MYTHOLOGY
The myths are conventionally grouped into 'cycles'. The Mythological Cycle, or Cycle of the Gods, consists of tales and poems about the god-like Túatha Dé Danann and other mythical races.[6] Many of the Tuath Dé are thought to represent Irish deities. They are often depicted as kings, queens, druids, bards, warriors, heroes, healers and craftsmen who have supernatural powers.
Prominent members of the Tuath Dé include The Dagda ("the great god"), who seems to have been the chief god; The Morrígan ("the great queen" or "phantom queen"), a triple goddess associated with war, fate and sovereignty; Lugh; Nuada; Aengus; Brigid; Manannán; Dian Cecht the healer; and Goibniu the smith, one of the Trí Dé Dána ("three gods of craft"). Their traditional rivals are the monstrous Fomorians (Fomoire), whom the Tuath Dé defeat in the Cath Maige Tuired ("Battle of Moytura").
Other important works in the cycle are the Lebor Gabála Érenn ("Book of Invasions"), a legendary history of Ireland, and the Aided Chlainne Lir ("Children of Lir").
WELSH FOLKLORE & MYTHOLOGY
Important reflexes of British mythology appear in the Four Branches of the Mabinogi, especially in the names of several characters, such as Rhiannon, Teyrnon, and Brân the Blessed (Bendigeidfran, "Bran [Crow] the Blessed"). Other characters, in all likelihood, derive from mythological sources, and various episodes, such as the appearance of Arawn, a king of the Otherworld seeking the aid of a mortal in his own feuds, and the tale of the hero who cannot be killed except under seemingly contradictory circumstances, can be traced throughout Proto-Indo-European mythology. The children of Llŷr ("Sea" = Irish Ler) in the Second and Third Branches, and the children of Dôn (Danu in Irish and earlier Indo-European tradition) in the Fourth Branch are major figures, but the tales themselves are not primary mythology.
While further mythological names and references appear elsewhere in Welsh narrative and tradition, especially in the tale of Culhwch and Olwen, where we find, for example, Mabon ap Modron ("Divine Son of the Divine Mother"), and in the collected Welsh Triads, not enough is known of the British mythological background to reconstruct either a narrative of creation or a coherent pantheon of British deities. Indeed, though there is much in common with Irish myth, there may have been no unified British mythological tradition per se. Whatever its ultimate origins, the surviving material has been put to good use in the service of literary masterpieces that address the cultural concerns of Wales in the early and later Middle Ages.
The celtic traditions and their pagan Practitioners in the modern age.
One example of the modern practitioners which have celtic roots as a basis for their religion would be the New Druidic Movement of the 21st Century.
Born from the need of many who wish to delve deeper into their roots they've taken the historical context of the original druids of the Iron Age and have matched it closer with new age spirituality.
Druid~
The Old Irish form was "drui", and in Modern Irish and Gaelic the word is "draoi" or "druadh" (magician, sorcerer).
These New Druids take inspiration from the mythologies from all around the celtic regions, Ireland , Scotland, wales , Britannia. And brings them together to create what is now the new Druidic Order.
They are primarily animistic , ( All things in nature hold a spirit) and the majority of druids in this new order are also polytheistic. They hold Great Reverence towards the spirits of the land and the magick of the land of their ancestral Homeland.
Antiquity Does not mean authenticity, things don't need to be ancient in order for them to feel powerful and tangible to the practitioner. Druids as a living practice is an extension of the culture of the celtic people.
And as such it is not claiming to be the druids of the past, (as we have very little information on their practices and how they lived.) But as a cultural movement they strive to be the stewards of Folklore and Folk practices for the coming generations.
If you would like to learn more on the Druidic Faith and the nuances of specifically WELSH Druidic Faith take this course into consideration from the Anglesey Druidic order
Welsh Celtic Witchcraft
This is honestly something which holds great value in learning more about as it pertains to the extension of knowledge outside Of the perceived Celtic Belief Systems,
In Welsh folk practices , Witches and Magickal practitioners were apart of daily life , Healer and wise woman whose power was said to come from Magickal Tomes which held spirits of demons and fairies inside.
Folk practices in Wales include the CURSING WELLS Ffynon Elian, Fairy Mounds .
A Great many different curses passed down from family to family, a famous Curse going around the internet is the One In Which a woman who is angered pulls out their TIT and Curses a man To Meet an Untimely Demise. Don't worry they usually deserved it.
There are so many beautiful and wonderful Folk Practices in Wales and Celtic practices in which I can't cover here but if you want to learn more and have a vested interest in the occult practices of other cultures give me a follow.
For more information on Wales Folklore in Video Format Visit The Below Youtube Channel :)
And if you would like to support the above Practitioner Mhara Starling I will link their book Here for Purchase. They go in depth on the folklore and occult practices of the Welsh people
#celtic folklore#incense#ancient#burial#animism#celtic#pagan#pagan witch#witchblr#wicca#witchcraft#paganism#paganlife#paganblr#pagan altar#witch#witchy vibes#witches#magus#magi#magick#spells#folklore#WanderingSorcerer
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