Jan 14, 2025
More G3 characters I want to see
🫥👻Kiyomi Haunterly👻🫥
Operetta and Scarah to come...
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Germany
seen from Tajikistan
seen from France
seen from China
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Thailand
seen from China
seen from Thailand
seen from India
seen from Russia
seen from Colombia
More G3 characters I want to see
🫥👻Kiyomi Haunterly👻🫥
Operetta and Scarah to come...
Kiyomi Haunterly 👻
Daughter of the Noppera-bō (のっぺらぼう), Japanese Faceless Ghost
Birthday: March 24
Star Sign: Aries ♈
Fun Fact: Her name, "Kiyomi", can either mean "holy, sacred" (聖) or "pure, clean" (清) (kiyo) and "beautiful" (美) (mi) depending on how you write it.
c. 2021
Kiyomi Hauntlery, in all her ghostly glory. While I loved the official take on her ‘fading face’, I just had to see what she looked like wiped and...well....I never went back.
Kiyomi Haunterly i did for a Monster High collab! 💖💖💖
Noppera-bou (faceless ghost) x reader
Shoutout to the manga Itou-kun doesn't know about love and Faceless girlfriend for giving me the idea and making me lowkey fall in love with Noppera-bou
Quick notes: wlw fluff because I'm a whole mess
You drank way too much tonight, and you absolutely know it. Waving away concerned friends’ offers of taxi rides, you start to stumble your way back to your apartment. It isn’t even that far away, your haze-filled brain tells you, so you’ll be home in no time.
The apartment is barely 10 minutes away on foot, and you’ve done a drunken walk back in less than 20 minutes. But then why is your phone telling you it’s been more than an hour since you started walking, and you don’t think you’re any closer to home?
Looking around, you see various apartments and neon store signs towering over you, but none of them look familiar. You swear that some of the neon lights turn to face you as you walk, but you blame that on the alcohol.
The people that walk by you on the street seem normal at first, but when you look too closely you start to see...differences. Longer ears, a flicking tail, eyes a bit too big. Staring at one person that you swear has fuzzy cat ears that are way too realistic, you bump right into someone that feels like a wall of muscle. They glare down at you as you mumble some sort of weak apology. You don’t get to say anything more as the ground rushes up to meet you.
Oddtober
> find me on Instagram <
what do you think about the cursed phone guy named charlie?
Don’t know about them
I do know that multiple people have gotten anons asking the same thing though. Which is definitely annoying to me lol
Dean Winchester: Return
Part 1
Fandom: Supernatural Pairing: Dean x Male!Reader Summary: Dean won’t stop until you’re back. Request: Umm, yes can I request part 2 of your recent fic... (btw I’m not that handsome guy who quote reblogged it)
Dean was suffering. Sam could see it, Cas could see it. Hell, the whole world could. He wasn’t doing good.
You were gone.
Cas had lost count on how many times Dean had asked him if he knew what had happened. He’d never seen the markings on your arm, the patterns that had prophesised what would happen to you. Cas had visited Heaven, trying to find your family, the ones who had gone, just like you. He had thought that their souls would come to rest in Heaven.
It had shocked Cas to realise how wrong he had been.
Your family didn’t have any places in Heaven. He hadn’t wanted to tell Dean that you didn’t have a place either.
They didn’t have any idea as to where you were.
It wasn’t what you expected.
You expected something like heaven, where you could be reunited with your parents.
It really wasn’t.
It was gruelling, hard work. It was worse than being a hunter. There was no rest, no peace. No way for you to take a break. If something killed you, it wouldn’t be the end. It was weird and confusing. If you died, surely you’d go to heaven?
It was a constant cycle and it was a wonder on how you hadn’t gone insane.
Your parents didn’t recognise you. Neither did any of the family members there. All they did was fight the monsters. And you thought being a hunter had been hard. This was the worst. It was worse than Hell or Purgatory. There were no words to describe where you were. It didn’t have a name.
There was no-one else there to be with you. You hadn’t burdened Dean with the markings. Hadn’t condemned him. He needed his brother more; you couldn’t take him away from Sam.
So you had to go through with it all alone.
You hoped you wouldn’t forget Dean’s face; you were already forgetting his voice.
Dean thought he found something. After drawing the markings so many times, memorising it all, he thought he found something.
No, he had. He knew he had.
“Dean, are you sure?” Cas asked, looking over Dean’s shoulder to look at the ancient book on the table. “This is incredibly risky. If we get it wrong, we’ll blow a thousand mile radius hole in America,”
“Cas, I don’t care,” he said. Dean’s voice was rough and broken. “I … I need to find him.”
Dean knew that Cas and Sam were worried; this was worse than when he’d lost Lisa and Ben. They needed Dean back.
“Do you know the spell?” Sam asked, looking at his brother. “The letters aren’t anything I’ve ever come across. I think it’s a dead language.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Dean said, eyes on the book in front of him. “We have to.” Dean fell silent once more, poring over the book.
Fifteen weeks later, he had a translation.
“We need to do this tonight,” he told Cas and Sam. “We need a half moon and it has to be a minute to midnight.”
“Why a minute before?” Sam said, confused.
“To release the pixies - I don’t know! Because the book says so!”
It was evident to the others that Dean was losing it. The closer they got to the time, the more antsy Dean became.
You couldn’t count how many times you had died in this place. If it even was dying. You had been shot, stabbed and torn apart, among other things. It was tiring. Time wasn’t coherent wherever you were. It was just the constant kill-the-bad-things that surrounded you.
You knew that years had passed, yet you hadn’t aged. No-one aged once the light took them, it seemed. Your parents hadn’t, their parents hadn’t, and all the aunts and uncles, cousins and distant relatives were all the same. The age left you somewhat immortal. Able to come back after dying again and again. But it chipped away at your humanity.
If you were to hazard a guess, you’d say it had been four hundred years, give or take. It never ended and it never stopped. There were bad things in this place that needed to be stopped. They could get out, to the place you couldn’t quite remember. All you knew was that you had to stop them. It would end that old place if they were released.
It was up to your family to stop them. They needed as many as possible to stop them for the rest of time and beyond.
The markings on your arm had faded over the incoherent time. The colour had faded into something like purple bruising. You barely had time to really look at it; in this ethereal place, it was a constant fight. But with each passing day, or with each kill (because each kill was easier to count than the days that passed by), you realised yours looked different because you hadn’t come with anyone.
You were the only one alone in this godforsaken place. Every other relative had a partner or a friend. Someone who had their back. It was no wonder why you died more times than them. You were alone. You hadn’t condemned someone to your fate.
But something happened.
You didn’t really notice at first, trying to kill a nasty faceless ghost that really wanted to get free, or do a good job of mutilating you. But there was something happening behind you. Once the faceless ghost had met its end, you noticed how the ground was rumbling and it felt like the world was shaking. You looked around and saw a vaguely familiar light. It had been so long you had forgotten how it had looked.
It was weird, maybe nostalgic. You had long forgotten the words that would best describe what the light was. But it wasn’t happening like you knew it had. Although you couldn’t quite remember what had happened, you knew the light definitely didn’t come at you and engulf you.
You felt that you were flung through the air. It was icy cold and felt like it tore your skin apart. That hadn’t been the first time your skin had been removed from your body. As much as it hurt, you had grown used to it.
There was a whooping noise when you landed on the floor.
You were quick to gather your bearings. Your Gáe Bulg was raised and aimed at the three in front of you. You thought you recognised them.
“Y/N?” one of them asked. His face and voice brought back faded memories, patched and altered from years of fights. You had tried to hold on to your memories, but they had become discordant.
“I know you,” you said, frowning. You didn’t lower your Gáe Bulg. “But I forgot.”
The man’s face broke, his joy and shock fading to hurt and sadness.
“Y/N,” the angel said. For two hundred years, you had been given the sight to see angel wings. This one’s was broken and the feathers bare. “Where were you?”
“Ethereal land,” you said. You weren’t sure why you trusted this angel. “Beyond anywhere. The old myths live there.”
“Where did you get that?” the tallest of the three asked. His hair was stupidly long. “That’s a Gáe Bulg, right? Or rather, the Gáe Bulg. It’s from Irish mythology, right?”
You didn’t answer. Instead, you lowered the Gáe Bulg, holding it away from them. “Where am I?”
“You’re home,” the first one said. He was crying and was refraining himself from coming near you.
You’d forgotten about the word home. Somehow, this place felt like it. And then it clicked. “You’re Dean.”
“And you came home, Y/N.”