ＭＡＫＥ   Ａ   ＤＥＡＬ   ＷＩＴＨ   ＴＨＥ   ＤＥＶＩＬ．．．

        Whenever he’s being summoned, there’s this distinct feeling he gets—but it’s nothing he can put into words; it’s not like a tingle or a pulse of electricity, and the hairs on the back of his neck don’t really stand up, nor does he hear a voice in his head. It’s just a vague notion and a thought of where he needs to be. It’s incredibly inconvenient when someone summons him during a schedule, but it happens all too often—today is one of those days and as he stares into the lens in front of him with his brows furrowed, the cameraman behind the scenes can see he’s not putting his all into the photoshoot.

        He tries to remind him to focus, but Chanyeol is forced to excuse himself with the excuse of having eaten something bad the night before; he never gets tired of using that cover story because it rarely seems to fail. No one wants to tell him to stay put and risk him shitting his pants or blowing chunks all over the place, even if there is no threat of that with his reason to leave being entirely false.

        He exits through the back door and into the dank alley behind the studio, and transports himself—via teleportation—to the area of the city he’s been summoned to. His brows arch high and he scoffs, thinking back to the days when the term ‘crossroads demon’ actually applied. Nowadays it seems that the empty parking lot of any supermarket or department store will suffice; in fact, he’s even been summoned to alleyways and people’s very own houses before. Developments have caused crossroads to become less inconspicuous and Chanyeol understands, but it amuses him no less.

        “Hello,” he greets the person in front of him with a smile and it’s a smile that undoubtedly throws them off. After all, it’s not often that people expect such a friendly demon to show up. They expect a sinister figure or even the devil himself and Chanyeol’s not the devil—he’s not even the devil’s advocate, he’s just a power-hungry rogue, which may be worse, but it depends on who you ask. “I have four main rules,” he lifts four fingers. “Firstly; you can have whatever your heart desires, from wealth, to fame, a house, the love of your live—a bigger ass, maybe a nice boob job?” He chuckles, cocking his head to the side with a suggestive arch of his brows; he puts down one finger. “Secondly; you can have it for ten years. No amount of begging, kissing up, pleading or running away when the time comes will extend the time you have.” His expression takes a darker turn for a second, then it brightens up again as he puts yet another finger down. “Thirdly; we seal the deal with a kiss. There is a blood spell, but who honestly has time for that?”

        It’s when he’s down to his final finger that his face reflects how truly amused he is. “Finally—and I feel, most importantly—if you don’t use tongue, I won’t either.” He finishes with a playful wink, dropping his hands to his sides. "So, what can I get you?"

            ．．．ＴＨＥＮ   ＳＥＡＬ   ＩＴ   ＷＩＴＨ   Ａ   ＫＩＳＳ．

Granted, it’s not that Yifan’s socially inept or awkward, he just doesn’t have that much time on his hands. Nor people who are willing to believe in the dragons that he puts his hard work into, much less come and spend time with something that could easily kill them. In fact, in years past, Yifan’s social ability was to be admired… were it not for his habit of getting into fist fights. That fact aside, though, he was always eager for company. 

He supposed that’s why he was making this effort, trying to find someone that would be different. Someone that wouldn’t accuse him of being mentally deranged, but also be brave enough to encounter the dragons he so lovingly bred. 

"The name’s Ryker," Yifan finally spoke, flashing a bright smile in the direction of the person he was talking to—you. “Do me a favour and spread the word, would ya? I’m trying to find brave souls to befriend and it’d be great if you could help me out.”

I don’t know how comfortable they would be with it, but they went by the name Em and that’s all Dean and I know. I know it isn’t much to go on, but hopefully if you just reblog this post, they’ll see it on their dashboard and they’ll come back to us.

I know posts like these are a little bit tiresome, but it’s so close to Christmas and we just want our little Sam, Dean and Cas trio to be back together. We miss Cas dearly.

And you, Castiel, if you see this: Please come back to us, we’ll be right here. Just come to my ask, or even Dean’s. 

"Ay, man, wassup?" His tone was cheerful and a smile marked his features, his fingers running through his hair as if to fix it back into place. He settled back onto the soles of his feet after rocking up onto his toes, allowing his hands to drop to his sides and hook their thumbs in the fabric of his pockets. "The name’s Mino and I’m the rapper from the trainee group, WINNER. Named as such ‘cause we straight winnin’, ya feel?"

He cocked his head to the side, his tongue swiping across his lower lip to wet it and the action was carried out with a playful seductive manner; it was just his nature, that’s all. “So I’m gonna need help from ya, and I really hate to ask for it—but ya gotta do what ya gotta do, right?”

He chuckled and then cleared his throat. “I’m new around here, an’ all, so I ain’t got too many boys to hang with,” he holds up both of his hands as if he was shrugging, but he didn’t follow through with the motion of his shoulders. “On the same hand, I ain’t got many pretty ladies to add a little beauty to the view, you see my problem?”

"In short, what I’m askin’ for is that you swing by and say hello—give us somebody to talk to." He flashed his most charming of smiles and lowered his hands again, bowing his head politely. "Please, it’d be mega appreciated." He may have been a rapper, and according to his fellow group mate, a wannabe gangster, but he’d always retain his manners. Once he straightened up again, he clapped his hands together and gasped, struck by a memory. "Oh, and could you maybe check out my bae while you’re at it?”

Nam Taehyun here and I know you hate these as much as I do, ‘cause god knows I hate these things… But I really need your help. I don’t have a terrible amount of time to socialize but a young man like me needs some friends, you know? With how close it is to the holidays, I’ve got some free time and what better way to fill it than making friends?

That’s where you come in—I need you to reblog this or follow me. The former is much appreciated ‘cause it really helps to get the word out… And that’s all I ask of you. An optional step is to hop on into my ask box and shoot me a message, but even if you don’t, I promise I’ll jump into yours. 

Helping me out is as simple as that, and it would be beyond appreciated. Nobody should be on their lonesome at Christmas, right? Nam Lion signing off, baby!