Aries: bonfires, unbearable heat, car radios, daisies
Taurus: laughing until you can’t breathe, new shoes, playing tag
Gemini: sparkly earrings, smoke, holding hands, resting your eyes
Cancer: midnight walks, long hugs, pink icing, baseball games
Leo: 80’s music, dazzling smiles, walking in bare feet, summertime
Virgo: being shy, movie theaters, lemonade, mispronouncing words
Libra: honesty, punk rock, gold nail polish, silent giggles
Scorpio: Halloween, sunrise, telling ghost stories, gravel roads
Sagittarius: painting, running late, butterfly kisses
Capricorn: spinning until you’re dizzy, pinky promises, raking leaves, coffee
Aquarius: infomercials, sidewalk chalk, spitting cherry pits
Pisces: mermaids, salt, singing until you lose your voice, independence
Summary: When the reader becomes possessed by the demon she has been hunting her whole life, she finds herself completely helpless as she watches the demon destroy the only thing she ever truly cared about. Dean.
Word Count: ~6,000
Warnings: torture, character death
A/N: Yikes this one ended darker than I originally planned for, but it is me we’re dealing with so is anyone really surprised? Yall know how busy I’ve been with thesis and stuff so I really wanted to get a solid one-shot out for you guys! Sorry its sad and awful. Hope you enjoy it at least!
Also - if anyone cares to listen, I named this fic after the mumford and sons song because 1) the song is insanely beautiful and 2) it just happened to fit the plot of this so well.
A sudden and complete rage consumed you unlike nothing you had ever experienced before. You felt your body take in a deep breath as if it hadn’t in years. The burning sensation on your forearm quickly blistered and bubbled away at your skin, revealing a mark you knew would trap you deep within the confines of your own mind.
Your hand reached up upon its own accord and dabbed the blood around what used to be the tattoo that should have protected your body from demons who dared to enter without consent. It was ruined now. How, you weren’t entirely sure. You remembered going off on your own to hunt the last demon in a rare pack who had slaughtered a gathering of hunters; your father, the only family you had, among them.
You heard word that the final demon, Emilia, surfaced in a town not far from where you were shacked up with the Winchesters. You knew it was only time before she came after you. You had stolen her family while she had stolen yours. If anyone could anticipate her moves, you could.
“Not quite, darling.” Your voice spoke with a purr that sounded foreign even to your ears. You felt the blood drip from tips of your fingers as you smeared the remnants against the wall.
Fear quickly took over whatever sense of yourself you could manage to hold onto to. You had run off to handle this case alone, despite Dean’s constant pleas to take him with you. Sam had been the one to convince him to let you go at it on your own. You needed to do this alone, you had told them. It was important to you end it the way that it had started, on your own.
Now, you got exactly what you asked for… you were entirely, and irrevocably alone.
i honestly wish that russell brand was not a real person but in fact a fictional character that there was a series of books about because
at one point in his childhood his only friends were newts that lived in a chalk pit
a mouse lived in his hair for a while. which he bought specifically for the purpose of having a mouse that lived in his hair.
used to get on the subway in london without paying by just going over the barrier, and when station workers said “what are you doing? you haven’t paid!” he would say, “i’m from the future! this is an illusion!” and would thus successfully ride the train without paying
not sure if he still does this, but he at least used to like to keep his house heated to human body temperature
became a postman because he thought he would get laid a lot, porno style. realized that wasn’t going to happen, so started stealing people’s letters and packages. quit after three weeks.
when on a day trip in rehab, got his whole group banned from go karting
took peanut butter from jack kerouac’s grave and ate it
only source of joy at primary school was when a dog got loose on the playground
tried to get serena williams to go out with him via email. started off said email with “serena, congratulations on being so good at tennis.”
grilled pineapple. sitting on the front steps with a cool drink. drawing with sidewalk chalk. grass stains. cherry pits. brand new swing sets. pungent bug spray. wood smoke and counting fireflies. car ride, windows rolled down, hair blowing. cosmos and marigolds. well worn gardening gloves. holding her hand.
This morning I went with Jack and my mum to the Rex Graham Reserve in Suffolk, which is only open one day each year. Hidden away in a chalk pit deep in the pines of Thetford Forest is the biggest population of rare Military Orchids in Britain. They were already beginning to go over today, but there were still some impressive spikes left.
Harpley Damms chalk pit is huge and only feet from the Peddars Way. I wouldn’t have known it was there if I hadn’t walked across the field to see if I could get a better view of the steep escarpment. It has no raised edge, and lies flush with the surface of the land. It was wonderfully strange to draw. Even the cold May wind incessantly tearing the paper from my board could only slightly dent my enthusiasm for the unexpectedly vast, flat dark space in a field of flowering wild strawberries. Guests at the Dogotel barked and traffic rushed past on the A148 as the sky blackened.
Afterwards I went down into the hole and it was warm and full of bee hives and spent cartridges. I meant to come back in June to see if there were any strawberries, but I completely forgot.