Oct 25, 2018
This wonderful art featuring my muse Chloe and @shattered-unity‘s muse Ember is made by @littleinksheep. Thank you so much and do check their commission and art out!
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This wonderful art featuring my muse Chloe and @shattered-unity‘s muse Ember is made by @littleinksheep. Thank you so much and do check their commission and art out!
@shattered-unity ❤’d for a small starter. (feat. Chloe - Unity AU)
Still to this day, the history of Hammerstar had a daunting thought for the young girl, being aware that powerful and potentially dangerous mages were inhabiting in this city. She was scared of them that they might harm her in any possible shape or form.
She was currently in the local market area, searching for a stall who might sell materials for her beading hobby. Although, the moment where she wasn’t looking what was in front of her, Chloe met an accidental bump which she fell backwards, and on the ground.
“A-ah, I-I’m sorry...” The girl nervously apologized, though her nervousness also came from the other woman’s appearance, mainly the unusual dull red color of her eyes.
drabble ; sunday morning
just a random drabble, outta the blue —> xmerifri
it was sunday morning, about a three weeks after dean found cas in that damn mine. dean had rolled out of bed at an early hour, unable to catch sleep again for the nightmares that chased it away kept circling his brain. cas was still asleep; he’s taken an extreme liking to the bed, and it often took more than a cup of coffee to get him out of it.
to clear his mind, dean pulled on some shorts and left the house to run a mile or so. he didn’t do it often - not every day like sam - but he knew keeping in shape was a good idea. he wasn’t all too worried about cas waking up to an empty bed because most days dean’s up before him, but he leaves a note saying he’s on a run. just in case.
it takes him about twelve minutes to run two miles. one there and one back. when he gently closes the door to the bunker, drenched in sweat, he gets a smartass comment from sam who’s already run and showered. dean ignores it with an amused huff and roll of his eyes. moving with more vigor now, awake and spurred by an idea.
he sets the coffee up and leaves it to brew while he showers. he’s quiet as possible, getting his clothes for the day, then sneaks back out of the room to shower elsewhere. he doesn’t want to wake up cas.
when he’s clean and clothed, dean gets to work making breakfast for one. he’s not entirely hungry, having eaten one of sam’s freak protein bars before running because he hadn’t the energy to make something. surprisingly, it worked well – but dean would forever make fun of sam and his health nut choices. it doesn’t take long; dean’s pretty good at multi-tasking in the kitchen between an omelette with cheese and sausage, bacon, and grits.
it takes him a bit longer to arrange the full plates and coffee cup on a platter in a way that they don’t fall off, but he finally manages and makes his way to their bedroom. when he pushes open the door, cas is still fast asleep, wrapped in blankets like a cocoon. dean kind of wants to take a picture, but his phone’s no where near him. he just saves the image in his memory, one of those things he’ll always love about cas. small, but true.
there’s just enough room on the bed for dean to sit down next to cas, tray on his lap as he nudges cas. it takes a couple nudges and a few ‘cas’s on dean’s part amidst annoyed grumbles from the other party. when dean stands, cas eventually finds it in himself to open his eyes and see dean holding the tray of food with a crooked - almost embarrassing - smile on his face.
“i know s’not five star or anythin’, but — y’deserve it, cas.”
there’s a period of silence, like cas is still registering through his sleep muddled brain.
“i don’t understand why –”
“s’breakfast in bed, cas. it’s a thing people do for people they love.”
now dean’s getting a little worried this idea wasn’t the best. that’s definitely happened before. cas is still looking at him with a look of trying to grasp the concept. dean shifts awkwardly on his feet, cheeks starting to burn. then cas saves him the embarrassment of just leaving the room.
“thank you, dean.”
with an audible sigh of relief, dean sits down next to cas as the other semi pushes himself into a sitting position. his bed hair sticks in all different directions, and his eyes still look bleary from sleep; his voice, too, grates and hangs low. it still amazes and thrills dean that he gets to wake up to this every morning. dean sets the tray on cas’ lap and leans forward to press his lips to the other’s.
“g’mornin’, cas.”
“i think pretty quick, and the answer’s still no.”
dean can already tell the coffee and food won’t help keep this argument calm. he watches cas with a wary eye, hands fisted tight with anticipation. if cas really thinks dean will roll over and play fetch for the the angels, he doesn’t know the hunter at all. if anything, dean’ll make the deal on his terms, and the angel’s will have to deal with it. he thinks keeping the tablet in it’s proposed safe spot is a good idea because no one can find it. only cas. if they kill him or his family, they’ll never know it’s place.
“i get what your sayin’, cas, but you can’t ask me to do that. it’s not right, just handing it over.”
dean lets out a small sigh, hand dragging down his face. this won’t be easy. not now, not ever. but he’s not relinquishing his position. he won’t let the angels tell him how to live. if’s going to get his freedom, he’ll do it his own goddamn way. no one is taking that right from him. ever.
“no. we tell them we know where it is, and it’s stayin’ there. if they try an’ kill us or hurt us, they’ll never find it.”
Morning finds him in much the same position that evening had. Seated at the dining table, pensive and brooding as when the sun had last laid its burning eyes upon him.
After the events of the night, Castiel had been utterly unable to sleep. He had waited until Dean had fallen into that blissfully thoughtless creche before slipping free of a strengthless grip.
His mind rests upon the forbidden.
The Angel Tablet.
( with bobbyjohn running around like an energizer bunny, it was hard to find time alone. and maybe dean missed it. a lot. )
“- — cas? i put the tornado down!”
His eyes lock to Dean's movements, meeting his eyes unreservedly as he leans over him. "I am not a child, Dean. I can still be of use." He resents the implication of helplessness that his humanity has brought. He is without 'juice' - but he is as he once was. Simply smaller. "You don't lose me. I'll come back." When Dean delivers his answer and settles back at his side, it is Castiel's turn to prop himself up and speak with conviction. "I know where it is, and I can get to it. I can fix this!"
He instantly regrets his words, but he won’t take them back. He knows Cas isn’t useless; his infinite knowledge about angels has protected them well, and he still fights like a warrior. Dean just infinitely worried Cas still isn’t used to human attributes like hunger and weariness, he’s afraid one wrong step and he could lose Cas.
An angel war would destroy them all, but Dean can’t find it in him to lay down, roll over, and fetch for the holier than thou dicks. He shifts his gaze towards Cas’ outline, nose scrunching, “Good, leave it there.”
With a sigh, he pushes himself into a sitting position, dragging a hand over his face, “Tell me and Sam so we know, then tell the angels that if they even think of hurting any of us, we’ll destroy it. We aren’t their pets, Cas. They don’t own us.”
“If you’re gonna go after it, fine. But I’m gonna fight ’till my last breath. They want a sword for Michael? It’s right here, and it’s gonna kill them all.”
The tension that grips Dean does nothing for his confidence, but Castiel barrels on nonetheless; his mind grinding into gear once more. Whilst the grey shadow of BobbyJohn's anger lingers, the formulation of a solution begins to shine through. "The Angels want the tablet. They wish to return it to its rightful place in the Grand Athenauem." He swallows, gaze ticking back and forth between unidentifiable yet fixed points. "I hid it. They couldn't find it. They told me. If--if I could get to it -"
Dean grunts, shifting from holding Cas to towering over him, arms on either side of his head. He stares at Cas’ outline for a moment before letting out a soft snort.
“Yeah, and if I lose you? I’m not going through that again, especially if I can’t get you back,” he states, shaking his head above the fallen angel. He leans down to murmur a solid ‘no’ in Cas’ ear before falling back to his side.
“We’ll figure somethin’ out, even if I have to ice every last one. We’re gonna be free, but I’m not gonna play angel’s retriever.”