how can i not go that hard, when knowing that in a matter of seconds, you may fall in someone else's embrace? i dare not think about claiming you, but in the case of facing possible competition of affection, i could only hope you would call me yours. so yes, in a way i'm announcing that i am becoming your partner, but of course, in a small part of my heart, it's beating in fervent longing that you'll place your hand in mine. -- J (i'm *not* calling myself the OG proposal nonnie anymore)
oh. my. god. if i am not mistaken, i think i know you. but i’ll have keep you wondering why do i think so. :)
i feel like i’m inside a shakespeare play. this is like the sweetest message someone has sent to me? i’m burying my face to the ground as i reply to this. tOO MUCH
your art feels EXACTLY like warmth on winter days like, specifically.. i love how there’s a soft glow around everything you draw, i love how you use different colors for freckles and your !! shoulders !!!!! the BALANCE of the shapes in your art is wonderful. what’s most captivating i think is the predominance of curves and soft edges which make everything look huggable.. also your johnny looks like an angel i love you art SO MUCH
WOAH SO MANY NICE THINGS THANK U SO MMUCH UR TOO KIND SHBSHHSBHSF
It’s absolutely the first time that someone says that what I draw looks huggable and feels like Warmth on Winter and even if I’m not 100% sure of what it means I love it ahaha thank you so much omg 😭😭😭
May I offer you this stupid smol drawing as a way to say THANK YOUOUOUOUOUOUUOUO(UOUOUOU) 1000 :’’D
Dean never thought he would see the day when Castiel, angel of the Lord, would fall in love with a baby.
But, on a chilly November day, sitting in the house of a family being haunted by a violent poltergeist, he was proven wrong.
Castiel and Dean were sitting on the blue and pink floral couch, shifting uncomfortably against the scratchy cushions. The dad of the house sat on an ottoman across from them, attempting to wrangle a two-year-old flopping around at his feet as he explained the hauntings of the past few days. Dean nodded intently and tried to listen to the man’s voice above the chaotic din of the household. Beside him, Castiel was stiff and uncomfortable.
That is, until the man’s wife came through the door, holding a chunky ball of human with grabby hands, dripping spit, and incoherent blabbering noises, all wrapped in a ducky onesie. And once Cas saw that baby, it was all over.
Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Castiel lean minutely forward toward the baby, his eyes a little wider. He stared at it; it stared back. Promptly broke the stare to laugh and uncoordinatedly clap its hands together, a fresh dribble of spit dripping down its cheek.
Throughout the interview, Dean noticed that Cas and the damn baby were making constant eye contact at each other. The baby would giggle uproariously if Cas cracked even a centimeter of a smile on his face. It went absolutely berserk if he made any sort of funny face at all. The whole time he kept gravitating more and more toward the baby, hands twitching as sensing the emptiness of them.
“Would you like to hold her?” the mother finally asked, sensing Cas’ distress. She smiled and held up her baby toward him as an offering.
Castiel didn’t compute his great luck until Dean shoved an elbow into his side. “Just hold the baby, man,” he said gruffly.
Cas gingerly hooked two hands underneath either of the baby’s arms, her small feet kicking against his thighs. At first, Castiel simply stared, awkward, unsure of how to address this tiny human in front of him.
To Dean’s dismay, the whole interrogation about the hauntings came to an abrupt halt, the entire room focused on Castiel and his new baby friend.
“Try bouncing her, she loves that,” the mother said.
Castiel began an awkward bobbing motion with his arms. The baby’s face scrunched up, lower lip pouting, to show her displeasure with the movement.
Dean huffed out a sigh and scooted closer to Cas on the couch; their shoulders brushed against each other as he took the baby from Cas. “This is how you hold a baby, weirdo,” he said affectionately, cradling the baby into the crook of his arm. She continued to stare up at Castiel with warm brown eyes during the whole exchange. Dean couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his face when he saw Cas softly grin at the baby, letting her take one of his fingers into her small fingers.
“You two would make great dads,” the father finally said, approvingly.
Dean cleared his throat roughly, quickly looking away from Cas and the baby. “Well, not part of the job description,” he said.
Castiel nodded sadly, brow crinkling as the baby gripped his finger more tightly and cooed.
It took a few abortive missions to get Castiel to surrender the baby to her mother and say goodbye. The damn baby and Cas were practically having a love affair, with Castiel looking over his shoulder twice at her as they walked toward the Impala. They could hear the baby’s howling cries when she couldn’t see Cas in her line of sight anymore.
“So,” Dean said loudly when they were both in their seats, “never pegged you as a baby person.”
Castiel looked lost as he told Dean, “I didn’t either. But I could see her soul… it was beautiful. Pure. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“There’s a reason why people think babies are cute,” Dean snorted, gruffly pulling on his seatbelt.
“I sometimes wish that we could have children.”
Dean’s brain was temporarily unavailable as it jumped off a cliff. When it kickstarted, he managed to strangle out, “Uh… run that by me again?”
“A child,” he replied calmly. “I wish that you and I could have a child.”
“Like… can… guy angels, can they…”
Cas fixed him with an incredulous stare. “Firstly, I am not a “guy angel”. And I was referring to adoption.”
“Oh,” Dean let out a relieved breath.
“Why, so it could grow up to be a screwed-up hunter like me and Sam? Or a quirky, dysfunctional angel like you?”
Cas turned his head to him and blinked at him. “Dean, if our child grew up to be anything like you, it would be wonderful.”
Coughing uncomfortably, Dean muttered, “Well that’s - “ He starts the car, trying to cover his blush, and grit out, “Yeah, whatever, Cas. Not a possibility in our line of work, anyway.”
Humming in agreement, Castiel absently put a hand on the back of Dean’s neck, stroking lightly. “It’s nice to dream, though.”
Dean looked over at Castiel; there’s a faraway look in his eyes and a small smile on his face that Dean rarely saw. Pulling out into the road, Dean agreed softly, “Yeah. It’s nice to dream.”