#starman.

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HIGH STAKES PROMPTS | accepting

SENDER blocks RECEIVER from seeing something horrifying. + SENDER helps RECEIVER wash ash or grime from their face. | @chyremn

Bern was an absolute mess. The mine was condemned for a reason, and their ankle hurt like hell from when the boot had gone right through a rotten board they hadn't seen under all the dirt. It didn't matter, not when they were determined for this case to be over. Missing kids. A bunch had disappeared at the same time, and Bern was certain they were stashed somewhere in that awful mine. Too many to just eat. It was a mantra that repeated in their head over and over, too many. It was too many. They had to be alive. The rest of their squad was on another case, so it'd been left to Bern and Cas to bring these kids home. He'd gotten ahead of them a ways, and they frowned as he pulled to a rigid halt.

"... What is it?" All of a sudden Cas turned and grabbed Bern's arms, even pushing them back a step. At only 5'1, it didn't take much for the tall angel to block out their entire world, but they craned for a look around him regardless. "Cas, what!?-" The beam of their flashlight streaked across faces in the dark. Tiny faces. Frozen, grimy, glassy. Every damn one of the missing kids, piled together like a nest.

Dirty hands tightened like a vice over Cas' arm and one of his lapels, but all Bern could do was stare as the color washed out of their face. The angel's stance shifted at the sound of shuffling and snarling behind them, and it was muscle memory that forced brown eyes shut as the ring of grace filled that mine, and holy light poured in to the sound of something screaming. Bern felt a rush of air once the light faded, and their eyes opened to find the interior of their shared, long-outdated motel room.

Like the flip of a switch, the hunter reanimated, and it was a mad lurch past Castiel to the bathroom. Small miracle they reached the porcelain in time. Everything hurt, everything screamed, everything everything all at once. They'd been wrong wrong wrong wrong WRONG, and now a group of kids was NEVER coming home. A flush, a rinse, and a crumpled dixie cup later, they emerged. Sheet pale under all the dirt, unable to meet the angel's gaze. "We," Bern swallowed hard, "... we gotta call it in. The parents deserve closure."

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Hurt Sentence Starters | accepting

“Cry. Scream. Break something if you need to. Just… you need to process this somehow.” | @chyremn

The worst part of it all was how familiar it was. A man expecting hysteria in response to his actions. Bern wasn't sure what was worse, all the times from other men that had been deliberate, or the fact that Castiel genuinely hadn't considered the hunter at all when he decided to paint an angel banishing sigil on his chest, and blow himself halfway to Hell. Sure. It cleared the path to the greenroom. Michael got Adam anyway, and they all got to spend a week thinking Cas had straight up killed himself.

In the grand scheme of things, not all of them were getting out of project stop the apocalypse alive. It was selfish to be upset about their own stupid feelings when the fate of planet was on the line. It was damn near three in the morning when that graveled voice came from behind where their shoulder leaned against one of the posts on Bobby's porch, staring out into the night. The silence was punctured by the flick and hiss of a lighter, their narrow face lit up by flame as it was held to a stale cigarette. Bern rarely smoked. It was the same pack they'd bought at a gas station in Cleveland two years ago.

What hurt the most was that he hadn't even said goodbye. Marched off to war because it was the service-bound thing to do. There was nothing to process—he'd made a decision, and Bern hadn't factored into it. Like they hadn't let him shove his whole hand into their soul to keep him alive just months ago. The betrayal was like putting on an old dirty coat, but damn if it wasn't broken in like it was made for you. A special kind of numb was wrapped around their body, and they knew it like an old friend with an arm over their shoulders, saying of course, of course this happened to you. It always does.

The smoke was released in a steady stream, and Bern didn't once look over their shoulder at the graceless angel standing in Bobby's doorway. "... Go back to bed, Cas."

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Drunk text prompts | accepting

[ TXT ] : stay PUT. | @chyremn

[ TXT: Starman] : I will not

[ TXT: Starman] : I will never

[ TXT: Starman] : You should have killed me when you had the chance

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/// love that Bern's met exactly two (2) angels and their reactions to both were

Castiel: I will annoy, love, and protect this awkward trench coat cosmic horror with my life so HELP ME his dad

Samael | @delabor : ... This man is a freak and I MUST befriend him

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RANDOM ACTS PROMPTS | accepting

SENDER slows their pace so RECEIVER can keep up. | @chyremn

There was a noticeable lag in the worn boots pounding pavement in some nowhere town, USA. Flannel and canvas-wrapped shoulders were hunched low, fists buried in pockets, brown eyes trained on nothing but the ground in front of them. Bern was tired, embers still burning in their chest from the night before, fanning hotter every time Bobby's livid face surfaced in their memory. A car passing far too close dragged them back to the here and now, and Bern looked up in time to see the trench coat they had been following had gotten away from them. Cas had slowed down, and Bern picked up the pace to meet him halfway.

"Sorry. I'm with you, I'm just tired. Remind me, what are we doing here again, and do I have time to get coffee? It doesn't have to be good coffee, I'll take stale gas station coffee. I just need portable caffeine."

Having joined Team Free Will after Dean was rescued from hell, Bern was well aware that despite reading damn near half the lore books in Bobby's house, they had the least experience. The only reason they got pulled off the bench more often was because Bobby was in a wheelchair.

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𝑵𝑶𝑵𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑩𝑨𝑳 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺 . | accepting

3o﹕ sender wraps a blanket around receiver’s shoulders . | @chyremn

Everyone on team free will took turns with the short straw, but sometimes every straw was short. That was the case tonight. Monsters knew damn well that Bern and the Winchesters had caught their scent, and the town only had one motel. Sam and Dean were inside, waiting to be bait, and that left Bern to watch the room door from the impala parked across the street. There was a chance the monsters could make the car instead, and that would suck. Even more than it sucked to sit inside those steel walls with the engine off in winter.

Bern's breath misted the air, arms crossed tight. Flannel and canvas could only do so much against late November in Illinois. They understood now why Dean harped on ignoring discomfort as hunter training, sometimes you had to. Brown eyes were trained on the motel door when the familiar sound of wings arrived with a rush of air, and they jolted hard in their seat. The shock went as quick as it came, and Bern scrubbed a hand over their face with a deep inhale that left with the sudden weight of fabric on their shoulders. A corner of the plaid blanket was lifted with half a smile.

"Thanks, Cas... Did you steal this from one of the rooms?" That poor angel, surrounded by such bad influences, and it showed. Bern wrapped the blanket tight around their shivering body, beyond grateful for the extra layer. "Oh, Starman. What are we gonna do with you?" If someone told Bern six months ago they'd be in a vintage car, keeping watch over two hot heroes, getting blankied by an angel of the Lord, they would have called that person insane. Back then, even a high five from a stranger was a good day. Brown eyes shifted to Cas, who didn't look the slightest bit uncomfortable in the frigid car. "... Did you ever think you'd be boots on the ground, fighting against Heaven with two archangel vessels, a drunk, and a queer?" Stating the whole short roster out loud dimmed their smile a few shades, and turned their gaze back to the motel door. "I admit, there's days I don't love our odds, but I'm really glad you're here."

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surprise | @qapsiel

It wasn't fair to say Bern was running late for their meet-up, because to a being who could manifest anywhere in an instant, anything slower was late by default. But, they were on their way to a town supposedly littered with demonic omens, and what they all hoped was a hint to what the next move of the apocalypse would be. Sam, Dean and Bobby were working the opposite side of town... and coming up with nothing. No demons, no monsters, not even an illegal parking job.

Castiel on the other hand? Had walked into an ambush. Not by demons, but an angel who had fabricated the whole thing. Blades had been thrown in the vicious fight between two well-matched angels. Arioch was a cunning soldier, but he wasn't fighting to kill. It seemed his orders had been to capture Castiel alive, and a heavy blast of grace sent the beaten Seraph into the opposite wall with enough force to crack the brick.

"You are making this so much harder than it needs to be." Grace sang from a slash in Arioch's cheek as he stalked forward, and that grace wrapped around his boot as it came down hard on a wing joint still battered from Hell. He leaned down and wrenched Castiel closer by the tie as he began to chant the angelic exorcism. "Omnipotentis Dei potestatem invoco! Omnipotentis Dei potestatem invoco! Ab orbe terra, Hunc angelum omne obsequendum! Domine expuet-!"

A hand seized the angel's shoulder, and he jolted over Castiel before his vessel's back arched, and grace poured from Arioch's eyes and mouth with a shattering scream. There was a shick of metal pulled from flesh, and the hollowed corpse slid sideways to reveal Bern, bloodied angel blade gripped in a hand that shook. "... Are you okay?" Their voice was tight, and brown eyes were locked on the dead angel.

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a comprehensive list of scenarios

7.  INSOMNIA :  for one muse to find the other still awake at 3am | @hcpewings

It wasn't that they weren't tired, Bern was exhausted. That didn't mean sleep was anywhere near. There were days when it seemed like hunting the unexplainable was easier than laying down and closing their eyes.

Bobby was upstairs asleep, and that meant they could sit in his chair with their feet on his desk, and read by the light of the ancient lamp that watched over the research of every hunt. Shapeshifters were the study of the evening? Morning? Maybe in an hour, they'd try again. That thought was broken in two by the sound of mighty wings, and the weight of an angel against the living room floor.

Brown eyes lifted in delayed surprise, but of course even at that hour, Castiel looked like he had the energy to run for miles. "Well hey, Starman. Is something on fire, or are you just bored and seeing who's still up?" Bern stuffed a scrap of paper into the book as a marker, and pulled their feet off the desk. "Is everything okay? Are the boys okay?"