#feathered mothman

[hannibal-is-my-comfort-show]

Was sleep deprived last night and thought about if the Ravenstag was the other way around in terms of design and suddenly was assulted by the image of a furry bird with antlers just ominously following Will around and I have not stopped cackling since

[psygull-arts]

Couples See Man-Sized Bird…Creature…Something!

a few mothman sketches to celebrate us finally running into it in our Delta Green campaign. surely this isn't an omen of anything

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

hey mothlings, just wanna remind everyone that NSFW is NOT allowed here in any way!!

any. way.

:)

[overthinkingtaleblr]

When Jimmy was mothman, would've he been a fluffy/fuzzy moth?

I need to know

In the video, sadly no… he was like some kind of. Leather-covered bird thing, they didn’t even use a mothman model. Personally i conceptualize Jimmy without a host as something that’s like. Actively falling apart, made of white noise, weird shapes, and squiggles.

… but fuzzy moth Jimmy is allowed. I allow it.

Also. Moth Besties?

[sami-claire]

Tattered Butterfly by Sami Claire

[featherlouise]

Don’t make another au don’t make another au don’t make another au don-

Fucking damnit

[cinimuffin]

[illegiblewords]

Decided to brush up on the mothman story recently, this documentary was good so thought I'd share!

[violet-yimlat]

I hate to pull this card but

Pulls out a deck of cards from various sources and draws the tarot card, The Tower.

Oops. Wrong card.

Draws the Cards Against Humanity card reading “A hummingbird drinking nectar out of my urethra”.

I do hate to pull that card too but it wasn’t what I was looking for- ah! Here it is!

Draws a card reading “If this post can get 5000 notes within the next week I will continue writing my terrible, stupid book”.

Btw part two is in the reblogs of this post.

Preview under the cut.

Prologue

You might have heard the urban legend. It goes like this; someone is walking along a street. They’re always pretty much alone, perhaps with the exception of maybe a pet dog, a conveniently non-verbal companion, when they hear sounds of a pretty intense struggle in an alley. So they go to check it out, but nobody is ever there.

Although sometimes, there’s a little pool of blood or a few feathers.

Mostly this is dismissed as a hallucination, or birds fighting, but the amount of blood and the size of the feathers makes it hard to believe.

And the voices. Most people report hearing arguing. But wherever in the world the story takes place, nobody can understand the language spoken by the fighters. The reports are fairly consistent. The language is described as “mellifluous” and “ethereal”, and there are always multiple people speaking it. Or at least shouting in it, but it is generally agreed upon that they are angry.

But there is always another voice, speaking a different, but still incomprehensible, language. He, for in the stories it’s always a he, sounds defiant and cocky, speaking in a harsher, less musical tongue, unless, of course, you count black metal. Some especially astute listeners have picked up words and sentences used by the lone, defiant individual and the angry group, coming to the conclusion that they seem to be speaking different dialects of the same language.

And another thing; birds don’t generally use weapons. One witness said that they heard what sounded like a fencing match or duel before they turned the corner.

There are so many witnesses that they should probably make a discord server.

Now we come to the theories. We have the rational explanation as mentioned previously; birds.

We have the “Time travelling fight club” theory.

We have the “That one alien spaceship where they keep having to get out because that one alien speaking another dialect keeps picking fights and they always threaten to maroon him on Earth but they never do” theory.

There’s the “Mothman vs other Mothman” theory and the “Crazy global cult who’s leader travels from place to place to perform blood sacrifices” theory, and let’s not forget the “Magical mutant cock-fighting ring gone wrong” theory, but one theory stands above all the rest.

The most well known, and probably the most ridiculous, theory is the “Demon repeatedly getting jumped by angels” theory.

But it’s all just a conspiracy theory. An urban legend. A joke.

Until the day Amelia Butler found the devil bleeding out in an alley.

[saradika]

Aesthetic Dividers for Fics & Masterlists

edit: as of 11/20/23 this will no longer be updated - please go to @saradika-graphics for requests & new resources!

AESTHETIC - CELESTIAL

— Stars & Space | Sun

— Stars & Space | Moon

— Stars & Space | Planets

— Stars & Space | Purple

AESTHETIC - FLORAL

— Bees/Honey/Flowers

— Cherry Blossom / Peach

— Dark Romantic Florals

— Daisies

— Fall Florals

— Cute Flowers

— Pastel Floral

— Pastel Green & Blue Florals / Navy Blue

— Red Poppies

— Roses/Chains / Gothic Roses

— Sunflowers

AESTHETIC - HEARTS

— Black Hearts

— Hearts

— Heartbeat Dividers

— Lilac Hearts

— Pastel Blue Hearts

AESTHETIC - OTHER

— 50’s Neon Diner

— Art Deco (Blue Version)

— Beige Daggers

— Black and Grey

— Black & Red Grunge

— Blue & Yellow Dividers

— Blue & Orange Feathers

— Christmas & Winter

— Citrus

— Cottagecore / Dark Academia

— Cowboy (part ii) (dark) (space)

— Cute Pastel

— Ghostface

— Halloween

— Maroon & Purple

— Mothman

— Ocean | Part ii

— Orange & Green Dividers

— Pale Pink Dividers

— Pink/Coquette

— Pizza/Spaghetti

— Purple, Pink & Blue Dividers

— Rain/Storm

— Ravens/Moons/Roses

— Red/Black Scroll Work

— Red & Yellow Dividers

— Smutty | Pastel

— Taylor Swift (Folklore)

— Vampires

— Warm Grey Dividers

— Werewolves

— Windows/Webcore

FANDOM

— Across the Spider-Verse | Hobie

— Alice in Wonderland

— Boba Fett (Star Wars)

— Clone Trooper/Star Wars

— Fennec Shand

— FNAF

— Lightsabers (Star Wars) / Part 2

— Silmarillion/Tolkien & Lord of the Rings

— Sith-Inspired Dividers (Star Wars)

— Stardew Valley | Part ii

✨(Everything was made in and using Canva - so definitely check that app out if you’re looking to make your own! Here, here, here and here are some tips on using the app / making graphics if you haven’t before!) (and credit is not required but a reblog would be great if you use! 💕) ✨

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Saved And Fucked By The Moth Man.

Pairing: Mothman x F. Reader (Cryptozoology).

Word Count: 3.6k.

TW: Death/Gore, Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Inhuman Anatomy, Generalized Monster-Fucking, Car Crashes, Reader's Pretty Questionable In This One, and Blood.

Based On The Results of This Poll.

You thought it could’ve been a bird, at first.

A raven, or a crow – you weren’t entirely sure. Something big and black that flew so quickly, you hadn’t been able to make out anything more specific than a dark blur and the vague impression of feathers before it was gone, vanishing into the shadows of the forest before you could realize that you'd reflexively swerved to avoid it, before you could do anything to stop yourself from crashing into the base of an oak so tall and so opposing, it wouldn’t so much as shake under the force of the collision. By the time you stumbled out of your wrecked car, the windshield shattered and the engine utterly decimated, whatever threw you off-course had been gone, and you’d been left alone on a country backroad in the middle of nowhere - bruised, sore, and miles away from the nearest city. Really, the only way your night could get worse was if—

Thunder cracked somewhere in the distance, quaking through the otherwise silent forest. You glanced up, searching for the sky through the dense canopy of overlapping branches and finding it overcast. It’d rain, pretty soon, and you’d be left lost, injured, and drenched.

Well, at least now, it really couldn’t get any worse.

You fished your phone out of your pocket and pressed your back against the most in-tact side of your car, checking if you had reception for the millionth time. Of course, you didn’t, and of course, your battery was in the single digits – too low to justify using your flashlight and risking leaving yourself alone in the dark with a dead phone and no way to call for help if you did, somehow, manage to make it to the border of civilization.

You considered crawling into what was left of the backseat of your car, turning off your phone, and hoping someone else drove down this godforsaken road in the morning, but before you could let exhaustion dampen your better judgement, you heard something in the woods rustle, the sounds of displaced leaves and cracking twigs standing out against the stillness of the woods. Somewhat hesitantly, you turned towards the disturbance, half-expecting to see wolves or coyote or, as unlikely as it was, the same over-sized bird that’d gotten you into this, but instead, much to your relief, you found a group of three men – hunters, judging by the riffles slung over their backs, the dirt caked into their shoes. None of them were wearing visibility gear, and you couldn't say it seemed like a great idea to go skulking through the forest in the middle of the night, but you were already out of your comfort zone. You couldn’t be sure what people walking around in the woods at night were supposed to look like, and at that point, you didn’t really care.

You grinned, moving to call out to them, but the oldest of the group was already addressing you, already stepping out of the forest and onto the road. “What do you think you’re doing out here, darlin’?”

Your expression faltered, but you kept your spirits up. It was fine. This was fine. You could deal with a little backwoods chauvinism until you got to a mechanic. “Got into an accident,” you said, nodding towards where your car where it bent around the oak’s trunk. “No service, either. I guess I wouldn’t be able to bother one of you kind people to call a tow truck, would I?”

There was a long, silent pause. The two younger men exchanged a glance. Again, the oldest spoke to you. “This is private property, y’know. Not a lot of folks come through this patch of woods.”

“Sorry, I didn’t know. I… I’m just in town for the convention.” One of the younger men slid his rifle off of his shoulder, taking it in both hands. The other followed in-suit. “It’s a beautiful area. If I had to get stranded, I’m glad it was here.”

“So, no relatives nearby? Nobody who’d notice if you didn’t get home in the mornin’?”

You pressed yourself against the dented metal, your smile now strained. “You know what?” You asked, forcing out an airy chuckle. “I think I’ll just walk for it. How far could the next town be, right?”

He held up a hand, signaling to the rest of his group. You heard something click, caught boots scraping against rough pavement, and watched a broad grin form across the older man’s features. “Looks like there’s gonna be a hunt tonight after all, boys.”

Your first reflex was, somewhat counterintuitively, to laugh. The sound was jarring, too loud and too stilted, cutting your lips and catching in your throat like pieces of broken glass.

Your second, triggered when one of the younger men moved to step toward you, was to run for your life.

Without thought, without hesitation, you broke into a dead-sprint. There was a holler behind you, a round of hollow clicks and earth-shaking thuds, and then, they were chasing you.

You couldn’t be sure how far you made it. It felt like you ran for seconds, or days, or years. It felt like you traveled miles, or feet, or just a few steps. Everything looked like the same repetitive blur of trees taller than your eyes could follow and roots that jutted from the earth like pikes. Their footsteps remained constant, never growing closer or farther away, always lingering somewhere just behind you, always just barely breathing down your neck. Fuck this. Fuck your car. Fuck this entire goddamn town and their stupid convention. If you made it out of this alive, you’d spend the rest of your life as far from this state as you could get. Coming here had been a stupid idea to begin with, a spontaneous trip planned at the last minute and based on a half-baked desire to see something that probably didn’t even exist. You just thought you might’ve been able to see—

Your foot caught on a half-buried stone, and you were sent crashing into the earth, your shoulder taking the brunt of the fall. You were left on the ground, cursing under your breath and holding your aching arm as you scrambled to get back on your feet, to keep moving before your would-be murderers caught up with you. You weren’t fast enough, though – you couldn’t be, not when they’d always been on your heels, not when you’d already given them an opportunity to put their quarry out of its misery. You’d barely started to push yourself up when they emerged from the tangle of trees, guns cocked and hunting knives drawn. You shrunk into yourself, threw your arms over your face in a last-ditch effort to protect yourself, despite knowing that a bullet would tear through your skin like paper, despite being able to picture your body lying lifeless on the forest floor, bleeding out in the dirt like a wild animal. The last thing you saw was the oldest man, raising his riffle and aiming towards your chest before you shut your eyes.

You heard a shot, sudden and deafening, but the impact never came.

You felt something whip past you. There was a scream, wordless and torn and cut short with a ragged screech and a wet, visceral sound – like flesh being carved open, like teeth tearing into raw meat. It was all you could do to curl into yourself, sinking into your self-made shelter as the forest descended into the sounds of carnage, only falling silent when there was nothing left to cut down. Even then, it took you long, agonizing seconds to open your eyes, to take in the gore splattered across the grass and dirt, the guns that’d been bent and twisted into shapes they weren’t meant to hold. A disembodied leg laid to your side, the torso it’d been ripped from impaled on a branch nearly twenty feet off of the ground. Clumps of torn muscle and split entrails shined reddish-silver in the limited moonlight, but you could only focus on the gore for so long.

Only a few yards away, a man stood in front of you. Only, it wasn’t a man, not really, not when you looked beyond its – his? hers? theirs? – vaguely humanoid form. Its long legs and lanky arms were coated in a thin layer of grey, shaggy fur that grew shorter and finer over its defined chest. You could make out curved talons extending from its massive hands, a pair of ringed antennae curled back along its scalp, a pair of tattered wings folded against its back. Its head might’ve been the strangest part of its anatomy; low and stooped, too round to resemble anything human and too featureless inspire anything but an uncanny sense that you weren’t supposed to be here. From a distance, the only thing you could really make out was its eyes. They were gigantic, nearly spherical – orbs of pure crimson that seemed to glow in the dim light.

Before you could stop yourself, your attention drifted downward, to the space between its legs. It took you an embarrassingly long moment to recognize what you were looking at – the shaft absent of all veins or definition beyond a perfect spiral ridge that coiled from the base to the flushed, lilac-shaded head. The tip was tapered, ending in a sharp slant and budding with something white and thick. The entire thing looked almost painfully erect, inflating it to a size that, even when compared to the rest of its massive body, sparked a raw, preservationist kind of terror inside of you. Fear took root in the pit of your stomach, sprouting up and into the hollow of your chest, making it difficult to breathe, to resist the urge to curl back into yourself and never come out.

Second to only your fear, just as pervasive and twice as instinctual, was your arousal.

It would’ve been impossible to read its nonexistent expression, but as it shifted its weight, turning to face you, you could’ve sworn the creature was looking at you with as much interest as you held for it. Its scarlet eyes were wide and unfaltering, its gaze only growing more intense as it took a step in your direction, then another, approaching you in slow, tense increments. Despite its stiffness, it didn’t seem awkward or nervous, let alone afraid of you. If anything, it seemed like it was trying not to scare you, even if you couldn’t say there was much weight behind the gesture when you were sitting among the viscera of its last three victims. Still, you held your ground, not daring to so much as blink until it was standing in front of you.

From a distance, it’d been inhumanly tall. Now that it was close enough to touch, it seemed downright monstrous.

With jerky, unpracticed movements, it reached down, towards you. You waited for a beat, then another, and when it failed to pull away or bury its talons in your chest, you hesitantly placed your hand in its palm, a knot forming in the back of your throat as its claws folded and everything up to your wrist was completely encompassed. With a sharp tug, it pulled you to your feet and held steady you when your legs, still shaking, proved too weak to hold your weight. You let out a fleeting, nervous laugh, and in response, it chittered – the sound high-pitched and tittering. It was cute, in the way seeing a lion play with a ball of yarn would’ve been cute. You were still eminently aware that the creature in front of you could end your life, but still.

“Hey,” you managed, eventually, unable to think of anything else to say. You didn’t even know if it could understand you, but you weren’t sure what else to do. “Did you… did you save me?”

Another round of chittering, a slight glimmer in its otherwise blank stare. You smiled. “Thank you, I— I’m not from around here, and I didn’t know I’d have to look out for people like that.” You bowed your head, attempting to let your eyes fall to the ground, but rather, your eyes found its cock again, pressed against its abdomen and leaking. The adrenaline that’d coursed through your veins a few minutes ago was already starting to fade, making room for something else, something closer to an anxious sort of zeal. Something that made you want to do something less than advisable.

Slowly, doing what little you could to stop your hands from shaking, you reached out, your fingertips barely brushing against its soft cheek. It nuzzled into your touch, earning a small smile, a trickle of a laugh. “Poor thing,” you mumbled, almost comforted by the fact that it couldn’t respond, couldn’t mock your poor-excuse for a seductively saccharine tone. “Do you need help with that?”

You saw its talon’s twitch, its wings flutter almost imperceptibly against its back. You weren’t aware that you were moving, not until your back was pressed against the rough bark of the nearest oak, until you felt the clawed hand that it’d wrapped around your waist drop to your hip, then your thigh. The tips of its curved talons scraped against your skin as it ran its claws from your waist to your knee, cutting through the delicate fabric of your shorts and panties and discarding the material without a second thought. The open air was cold against your exposed skin, but something quickly replaced it – a gentle, oppressive warmth that seemed to sap the chill from your skin. Your legs were thrown over its shoulders, held in place by its massive hands as it buried its face between your thighs. You barely had time to straighten your back, to brace yourself before—

Oh.

Oh.

It was more tongue-like than you’d expected.

Not to say that it was a tongue – you weren’t really sure what you should call it. Long, split at the tip, just rough enough to earn a breathy gasp, a new wave of heat rushing from your core to your head, obscuring your few remaining rational thoughts with a shimmering haze. Its tongue (tendril? proboscis?) ran over the length of your exposed slit, leaving a trail of thick, viscous saliva dripping down the inside of your thighs before jerking its head upward and finding your clit, the tip of its tongue circling the sensitive bundle of nerves as soon as it recognized the airy sounds now falling steadily from your lips for the unabashed moans they were. It was almost experimental, the way it bent and curled its tongue, clearly working towards a quickly approaching goal but constantly looking for a way to get there that much faster, to make your legs twitch that much harder, to force the coil writhing violently in the pit of your stomach wind up that much tighter.

It was all you could do to arch your back against the oak’s trunk and clench your eyes shut, your hands falling to the softened ridge between its curved antennae. Only half-consciously, your attention dominated by the feeling of its coarse tongue swirling over your clit, you raked your fingers through its cropped fur, doing what you could to show the creature your appreciation, your gratitude. You tried to be gentle, but the curling tips of its tongue slipped into your tight entrance and the world burnt white, your body jerking forward and your nails biting into its scalp. There was a deep, guttural sound from somewhere deep in its chest, and its hands rose to your hips, claws scrapping lightly against your skin as its tongue fucked into you. It was thin, but long and so flexible – twisting and coiling against the sensitive walls of your cunt, never repeating the same blissful pattern of thrusts and thrashes more than once. You found yourself grinding into its mouth, seeking out whatever friction you could with the clumsy movements of your hips. The pressure, the weight, the sensation – it was more than you could handle. You could already feel it, a certain tightness in your chest, a tension in your core that—

Without warning, without satisfaction, it pulled away from you, leaving you empty and quickly coming down from a high that you never quite reached. You let out a long whine, more desperate than disappointed, and as if to apologize, the creature nuzzled against the inside of your thigh, chirping softly. Thankfully, your reprieve was a short one. With its hands still on your hips, your body still held aloft by its inhuman strength, you were dragged away from the oak and into its chest as it stood to its full height. Your chest was slotted against the creature’s, the pointed head of its cock pressed flush to your dripping cunt. Its wings fanned out, its hips rolling against yours, and a sharp, aching moan was drawn from your lips as it thrust into you, finally filling you to the brim.

For a long moment, it was all you could do to bury your face in its chest and try to put together a coherent thought. Only half of its length was inside of you, and yet, you could practically feel it pressing into your core, rubbing against the walls of your cunt, the cork-screw ridge that ran from the tip to the base threatening to split you open. It didn’t, though, and even if it had, you couldn’t be sure you would’ve cared. Before the creature could even begin to move, to fuck into you from below, you were grinding against it, mindlessly and desperately trying to chase that fullness, that peak. It didn’t take long for the creature to answer your fervor. There was a raised notch just above the base of its cock, a notch that caught on your clit as it beat into you with heavy, rough strokes. A talon was dragged down the back of your top, tearing the fabric away and allowing its tongue to lave over your chest. All of its gentleness, all of its restraint was thrown aside as its claws dug into your hips, cutting through skin and tinting your pleasure with an intensity that wouldn’t have been possible without a drop of pain.

A scream, wild and euphoric, was torn from your throat, and you wrapped your legs around its waist, dragging your own nails over its back as you fought to keep some part of yourself grounded. Even that was an effort made in vain. You heard its wings shift, felt the air rush against your skin, and suddenly, you were breaking through the canopy – speared on the creature’s cock mid-air, being fucked against the backdrop of the dark, velveteen sky.  The shock, the adrenaline, the thrill was enough to leave you clenching around the creature’s cock, your vision burning white as you came undone. You might’ve been able to come down, to melt back into its thrusts and its affection, if something hadn’t clicked in its chest, if its wings hadn’t started to move a little faster, if something hadn’t happened and the creature hadn’t started to emit a sort of reverberating droll – the sort throbbing vibration that only seemed to make the friction against your clit, the feeling of it stretching you open more perfect. You couldn’t be sure how long you stayed in that hazy, half-conscious state – limp and moaning in the arms of a monster, always either spilling over your high or riding out the aftershocks. It only came to a climax – a real climax – when the creature stiffened against you, its cock twitching violently inside of your cunt. It pulled you as close as it possibly could and, with one last wave of pulsing reverberation, released something thick inside of you – viscous and warm and translucent. Like sap. Like nectar.

Light-headed and blissed-out, you buried your face in its chest as it began to descend, the sound of your giddy laughter muffled by its fur. This time, when it pulled away from you with an apologetic chirp, you didn’t complain, only pressing one more lingering kiss into the curve of its shoulder and letting it draw back. Your legs were too weak to hold your weight, so you braced yourself against the nearest oak as the creature disappeared into the dark of the forest, returning a few moments later with a bundle of bloody fabric in its arms. A shirt – a little torn but mostly in one piece, taken from one of the hunters’ corpses, clearly meant to replace your own ruined clothes. You smiled as you slipped it over your head. It was a size too big, and it was sure to raise a few questions, but it would do until you could find help. Whatever ‘help’ meant, at that point.

When you were finished, the creature took you up again; wrapping an arm around your waist and catching you under your knees, pulling you against its broad chest. This time, as it soared over the forest, you were able to admire view, the star-lit sky and sprawling woodland before it landed where the forest had started to thin and give way to the outskirts of a small town. Slowly, carefully, it lowered you to the ground, keeping you upright when your unsteady balance wavered. You laughed and, for longer than a moment, you held its unblinking gaze, Eventually, your hands fell into its claws, your smile turning bitter-sweet and sentimental. “Will I ever see you again?”

There was a slight chittering, a gentle squeeze to your hand. You felt its tongue against your cheek and let your eyes fall shut. By the time you could bring yourself to open them again, Mothman – because it was Mothman, you could only deny it for so long – was gone, barely a silhouette in the distance. You heard the crack of thunder, and watched it fly away as the sky broke open and rain spilled out.

The next day, you would learn that a bridge about twenty miles outside of the city the creature left you in had collapsed the night before, killing hundreds.

[chaoticace2005]

List of WHERE THE FUCK DID VAGGIE COME FROM?? (and also other exorcists)

1. She was heaven-born: ichor as blood is limited to heaven-born, Adam named her, military schools from being exorcist, picked up Spanish elsewhere (a Winner maybe? We haven’t seen any other angels speak Spanish yet so…)

2. She was a human soul: ichor is in all beings living in heaven (as seen with Adam- but he may be a special case), Adam renamed her, military skills possibly due to past life?, where she learned Spanish

3. She is a human soul, and old info about Vaggie remains canon- she’s Salvadoran and died in like 2014

4. ^ That was a lie she told Charlie, and she either had a different life or doesn’t remember/have one on earth at all

5. She’s a human soul that died and went to heaven but lost her memories (either as all Winners do or just after she became an exorcist.) She didn’t have a name so Adam gave her one. Spanish was something she retained

6. She’s a human soul CHOSEN from Earth to be an exorcist. She didn’t die (maybe she was close though?) but they did take her from her life there and washed her memories away.

7. She went to heaven either by 5 or 6 and didn’t lose her memories. But she was forced to confirm and essentially take on a new identity.

8. She was spawned in some exorcist factory in heaven and that’s why Adam named her.

9. “Vaggie” WAS her name on Earth- Adam was her mom.

10. Adam actually went down to Earth and forced some random mother to name her daughter Vaggie because it would be “fucking hilarious.”

11. He actually didn’t name her, but Vaggie reminded him of Vagina so he started pronouncing it like that.

12. Adam laid eggs and she hatched from those.

13. She’s mothman’s daughter (the cryptid, not the icky douchebag demon.) She was raised on earth but because of her elevated status she became an exorcist when she died.

14. ALL exorcists are mothman’s children.

15. Exorcists are random birds picked from Earth after they complete a challenge.

16. Seraphims just pluck feathers out and boom: exorcist.

17. She wasn’t an exorcist. Adam just gaslit her really hard and also the stick up her ass caused her blood to change color so it resembles ichor. (Ghost written by Angel)

18. All exorcists were created at once by the angels. They all grew up and trained together.

19. Once you reach a certain level of the military on earth you become an exorcist when you die (so maybe it’s a free pass and you don’t have to be “good” to be an exorcist, which explains why some of them are so bent on violence. They didn’t have to go through the same screening as everyone else.)

20. They were conditioned to be like this, with Heaven propaganda and working in Hell made them so cold to demons, and having gone through a rigid military program.

21. They spawned fully formed whenever heaven needs more exorcists.

22. Vaggie isn’t real. She’s an illusion of their conscience. The real exorcist was in us all along.

23. Universe saw Charlie was lonely. Universe said, “here girlfriend.” What’s her backstory? They don’t know either.

24. Their blood is actually PISS and they’re spawned form porta-potties left outside too long.

25. Exorcists are people who died by lemons. When life gives people lemons (and kills them), they turn their blood into lemonade.

26. A glow stick factory in Heaven exploded due to Adam. This was the byproduct. Sera had no idea what to do with them so she gave them to Adam as punishment.

[whatsnewalycat]

like a moth(man) to a flame(thrower)

pairing: frankie “catfish” morales x f!reader

summary: just a deeply self-indulgent meet cute with frankie at a halloween house party.

rating: t

words: 900+

warnings: drinking alcohol, party

notes: happy halloweeeeen!

—

In lieu of red solo cups, a long-standing tradition in house party lore, your cousin opted to get black solo cups. Which was a nice touch, you had to give it to her.

You picked one off the tall stack and wrote your name on it in metallic sharpie. As you ladled the crimson “fangria” into your cup, someone dressed as Richard Simmons bounced through the cramped kitchen behind you on their way to the basement.

Sound erupted from downstairs when they opened the door, a racket of inebriated conversation and Monster Mash by Bobby "Boris" Pickett & The Crypt Kickers, then dampened when they closed it.

A skunky odor hit you after a two-second delay. You turned to look at the door, taking a sip of the fruity wine concoction, and considered joining the livelier half of the party. The floorboards beneath your feet bumped from the bass, as if trying to convince you.

If you didn’t taken one more look around before submitting to its call, you might’ve missed him.

This guy, leaning against a dining room table with his arms of his bomber jacket crossed over his powder blue hoodie. Army green cargo pants, sunglasses, a flame thrower strapped to his back. Even the big, dumb cowboy hat thing. It caused you to burst out laughing, recognition tickling your fancy.

He did a double take, only a glance at first, probably just sourcing the noise. But his attention quickly returned, alongside a crooked smile, lingering on you for a few seconds before he turned back to his conversation with an eerily spot-on Jason Voorhees.

Your pulse skittered. There was something in the way he did this. Intent.

Only another moment went by before he parted ways with Jason and started towards you.

Acting casual, he grabbed a cup from the tower and wrote his name on it, asking you, “How’s it going?”

“MacReady.”

He raised his eyebrows in question, “What?”

You pointed to his getup, “The Thing, right?”

“Oh!” Understanding brightened his features. A big, charming smile spread across his face when he looked down at himself, nodding, “Yeah, MacReady from The Thing.”

“I love it,” you grinned.

“Thanks.”

Drifting a little closer, he studied your costume. Confusion creased his forehead. He tilted his head up slightly and tugged on your feather antennae, as if trying to pluck a clue from it.

“You are… a, uhhh—” he frowned and shook his head, “I don’t know, a scary moth?”

“Mothman.”

“Mothman?”

“Right, mothman.”

“Never heard of him,” he chuckled as he filled his cup. Taking a sip, he leaned back against the counter, even closer. His gaze felt hot on your cheeks. He said, “You look nice, though.”

“Thanks,” your eyes dropped to his cup and you read his name aloud, “Frankie.”

“You’re welcome.”

You licked your lips, then told him, “That’s one of my favorite movies. The Thing, I mean.”

“It’s a classic.”

“Ok, sorry—I need to talk about this costume more. You have a fucking flamethrower and everything. And the hat—” You giggled and gave the visor of the floppy hat a playful smack, “It is ridiculous.”

Drifting a little closer, he chuckled and held up the business end of the flamethrower, “You know how many people have asked me if this is real tonight?”

“How many?”

“None. And that’s a goddamn travesty.”

“Uh-huh,” you smirked, meeting his eyes through the sunglasses, “Well, is it real?”

He smiled and shrugged, “Maybe.”

“Maybe yes or maybe no?”

“Maybe yes.”

“Shut the fuck up, are you serious?”

He nodded.

“Can we light shit on fire? Oh my god, please? My cousin has a fire pit—”

“Whoa, slow down, Sparky. The tank is empty.”

You deflated, shaking your head as you murmured into your cup, “What a tease.”

Frankie laughed, “A tease, really?”

“You can’t tell a gal you’re sporting a real flamethrower then not set shit on fire with it.”

Shaking his head, he said, “Tell you what, give me your phone number, we can set up a time for me to show you how to use it.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Heat rose to your cheeks and you smiled, “Really?”

He dug into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, then handed it to you.

As you saved your contact information to his phone, you said, “I know this might just be a cute thing you’re saying to get my phone number, but I fully expect you to follow through.”

“You have my word.”

When you gave back his phone, his hand brushed up against yours, and something sparked inside you. He tucked the phone into his pocket. You felt him staring at you, and glanced down at his mouth as his tongue peaked out to wet his lips. For a moment, the two of you stood there quietly, letting static build between your bodies, pulling you closer.

The door to the basement swung open, filling the room with Thriller by Michael Jackson. A worse-for-wear Hollywood Hulk Hogan stumbled up the stairs into the kitchen and closed the door behind him.

He squinted between you and your new friend, swaying a little, then recognition kicked in and Hogan yelled, “FISH!”

“Jesus Christ, Benny,” he muttered in response, setting down his cup to start towards him, “You can barely stand.”

“I’m fffffine,” Benny swatted at his friend.

“Let’s get you home.”

He let out a dramatic groan, but accepted Frankie‘s arm slung around his back.

Frankie looked at you, eyebrows knit together, apologies written all over his face, and asked, “Can I call you tomorrow?”

“Absolutely.”

You both lingered there for a moment, despite the dead weight hanging off one side of him, then he said, “It was nice meeting you.”

His voice was low and sultry. It heated you from the inside.

“You too,” you grinned wide and nodded, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

He returned the smile, then glanced over at his friend, “Alright, drunk ass, let’s go.”

[klance-headcanons-official]

Keith has a tendency to believe the strangest things, and Lance has to deal with it.

Keith and Pidge will find even the slightest evidence of something crazy and they'll go absolutely feral over it. Pidge will look for every single bit of info about the thing they can, while Keith looks for what it's called to make Pidge's research easier.

And then Keith inevitably goes home to Lance, and the poor boy has to listen to his husband rant for hours. I'm talking theories, a board with pictures and red string, PowerPoint presentations, physical evidence like hair or scales.

Lance has no idea whats going on, but he tries to listen. Though sometimes it gets out of hand.

EX.

"And that's why we think there might be a new species of Alien that we haven't found yet."

"Babe, this is amazing, and I love you very much, and I'm proud of you for doing all of this... but don't you think this one's a stretch?"

"What?? Lance, come on! We've seen so much already, how is this a stretch???"

"We've been quite literally everywhere in the universe that has life. How would there be a species we haven't already heard of from Coran?"

"Look at the evidence!! The organism was said to be about 10 feet tall, with glowing eyes, and huge wings--"

"Oh gods..."

"It was Mothman!! Mothman IS real!!!"

"Not this again..."

"Look at the feathers! The pictures! The sounds that it makes! It's Mothman!!!

"Keith please... it's 11 pm on a Tuesday night..."

"I have to call Pidge!!"

From the other end of the phone: "Hello?"

"PIDGE!! I think we just found Mothman!!"

Through sounds of rapid typing and analyzing: "Oh my gods, you're right!! Mothman is real!!"

Lance is dedicated to not believing in Mothman. But he thinks Keith is cute when he rants about it.

He's absolutely right. Keith is fucking adorable. I love him.

[daddy-issues-99]

Mothman x GN reader

It was late, cold, and quiet. A typical night, as typical a night it could be. You were getting ready for bed after a long and annoying day. You were exhausted, ready to fall into your bed and never wake up again. 

Craving some comfort and relaxation. 

You got into your pajamas and finally laid down in your bed letting out a sigh of relief. You could finally relax. 

Or so you thought. 

You weren't even able to lay there uninterrupted for more than a minute before you heard a quiet tapping on your window. You groaned and turned over to see an all too familiar face outside your window. 

“Go away.. “ you groaned and pulled the covers over your head, hoping he'd leave. 

More tapping. 

You covered your head with a pillow trying to drown out the methodical taps. It didn't. You let out a sigh of annoyance and begrudgingly got up out of bed and walked over to the window. You looked out at its glowing red eyes, groaned in annoyance and begrudgingly opened the window. 

You grabbed his arm and pulled him inside as he made quiet chirping and clicking sounds in satisfaction. You pulled him over to the bed and ushered him onto the mattress as you laid back down. 

He climbed in next to you, nuzzling against you as his soft feathers touched your exposed skin. You rolled over, facing away from him, not in the mood for his games tonight. 

He didn't care. 

He quickly extended one of his arms and pulled you up against his chest, holding you close and he used his wing as a makeshift blanket for the two of you. 

You sighed, you wouldn't admit it but you did enjoy the creatures clinginess. He let out soft chirping noises, almost sounding like he was purring, you had to admit it was cute. The cryptid that scared an entire state, cuddling against you like a kitten. 

“You're so needy” you said in a groggy voice, half asleep. He just chirped, holding you against his large chest. 

No matter how scary he seemed, you knew he was just a big cuddle bug.