“Sometimes you meet someone, and it’s so clear that the two of you, on some level belong together. As lovers, or as friends, or as family, or as something entirely different. You just work, whether you understand one another or you’re in love or you’re partners in crime. You meet these people throughout your life, out of nowhere, under the strangest circumstances, and they help you feel alive. I don’t know if that makes me believe in coincidence, or fate, or sheer blind luck, but it definitely makes me believe in something.”
the earth beneath your fingernails after a long day, waking up feeling full of light and ready to get up, summer evenings, the press of a friend’s hand into yours, tan lines that pop on your skin, the chill of rainwater as it slides through your hair, feet sticking out of car windows, running around backyards as the sunlight fades
the jarring echo of a microphone when bumped, mowed grass, a newly immaculate room with everything accessible, the fresh smell of rental cars, neat calendars pinned above desks, new school supplies stacked up in your room, monopoly games, sliding into a perfectly made bed at the end of a long day, unpacking in a hotel room, taking yourself out for dinner
throwing your arm around a friend, gaudy beaded bracelets put together by your little cousin, the quick pant of an excited dog, the smell of campfires, paint stuck in the crevices of your hand, taking neat notes for the kid who’s absent, an instagram full of pictures of you and your friends, screaming the lyrics to songs as you ride down the highway
staying after school to help a teacher clean up, biting your tongue to try to stop laughing during class, a sticky kiss from a child, kindergarten art rooms, listening patiently to stories you’ve heard before, staggering around in your mom’s high heels as a kid, walking around town with ice cream and friends, squeezing lemon juice into your hair
having to do a group project by yourself, walking back and forth to calm your excitement, desks cluttered with papers, the sound of quick typing, the rush of relief after walking out of uncomfortable situations, lying to get a reaction out of someone, the sting of tears brought on by anger, the perfect comeback, mascara smeared down your face
protest signs, pinning magazine cut outs to your wall, walking to the front of a room to give a presentation, the click of high heels, tilting your chair back and crossing your arms to show your disapproval, the smell of paint, friendly debates with loud words and wide gestures, losing track of time and blinking tiredly at the clock, perfectly tailored suits left wrinkled on bedroom floors
bulletin boards with inspiring quotes, humming along off-key beneath your breath, bare feet on hot sand, pinterest projects, curling ribbon with scissors, sewing your own clothes, improvised road trips, bubblegum pink lipstick, convincing a friend to buy themself that new outfit, silly nicknames, candy wrappers littered on the floor, compliments from strangers in public restrooms, good morning texts
cute notes left in people’s lockers, talking a friend through their self confidence issues, cleaning your room at two in the morning, dark thoughts that only slip into your mind late at night, the press of a kiss to your forehead, picking out your clothes the night before, convincing a friend to come dance with you, the hand on your shoulder
taking apart pens and examining the individual parts, spilling out emotions that you’ve kept tightly wound inside, the smell of rubber tires on pavement, writing down your thoughts to better understand them, clenched fists, research papers laid out across a table, jumping off a rock wall and letting the cord catch you, polaroid cameras
setting yourself deadlines, slipping candy to a worried friend, puns, stretching after a long day, downing too much coffee so you can stay up to work, drawing tablets, buying Christmas gifts a month in advance, the smell of grass after a rain, sitting in comfortable silence with a good friend, before and after pictures, old family trinkets
petitions passed around classrooms, a friend’s artwork hanging on your wall, the weight of a child on your hip, getting up early to see the sunrise, interior design, vinyl albums, sitting on rooftops with friends, detailed journals from years back stacked in your closet, the warmth of a cat curled up on your lap, sleepy kisses goodnight, the walk up on stage to collect an award
buying friends gifts for no occasion, old photo albums lining bookshelves, waking up knowing that today is not yesterday, holding a bun up with just a pencil, splattered paint on brick walls, doing homework on the way to school, bitten lips rather than angry words, tentative hugs, the smell of vanilla, hair falling in front of your face when you duck your head
dead languages, long winded speeches that change topics multiple times, sweater vests, chalk boards covered with writing, lost glasses that are on top of your head, botanical gardens, finals week, bouncing up and down on the balls on your feet as you rant, unbrushed hair, library fines, the glow of a laptop late at night
packing for college, perfectly winged eyeliner, beakers overflowing with bubbles, schedule overloads, chess games that last until late into the night, the feeling of silk on bare skin, locking your door while working, texting while walking, leaning forwards into discussions with your elbows on the table, rapid-fire conversations, makeup lined up along the sink
community gardens, braiding flowers into a friend’s hair, giggles, playing guitar to an empty room, yellow daisies, sudden anger, reading by candlelight, unexpected hugs, empty forest paths, make believe, whispers that you know no one can hear, understanding nods during rants, lifting someone up and spinning them around, the smell of new paper, forgotten tea that’s turned cool
hanging lightbulbs, thick books where the spine curls inwards, shoulders shaking forwards when you won’t let yourself cry, absent kisses laid on top of heads, lying beside a friend in bed and talking to the ceiling, dessert left at a friend’s door, watching the people below from city windows, little notes from friends kept for years, the key to your childhood diary
i spent too much time on this– so I’ve been toying with the idea of an RPG!AU! Despite the fact that I know next to nothing about D&D or fantasy/RPG settings… (fhkdjs blame my nerris muse for this…) The colours are in no way final, either. Preston gave me a hell of a time…
They’re all older as well! Anywhere from mid-late teens/early-20s. I have most of the cast’s classes and alignments sorted out; I would’ve started out with the main 3, but Max and Nikki are harder for me to nail a design for.
Hit me up if you’ve got some thoughts on this or would like to know about the other characters before I draw them!
I’ll put all my current headcanons for these 3 under the cut ↓
↓ (Classes are loosely based on the many from D&D, but I wanted to keep things flexible so m(_ _)m)
This is for @mittensmorgul‘s Great Fic Writer Scavenger Hunt, round one.
There’s Only One Bed and Castiel (for whatever reason) wears different clothes.
Set in season seven after Cas takes Sam’s Hell memories. Almost canon compliant but where Dean actually visits Cas at the hospital, plus Cas is a little less comatose and Dean is a little less mean.
He’s asking for you, she says. Even in his sleep.
Dean doesn’t know why he even answered the phone. Maybe because they had dick on Dick and he needed a distraction, but he regrets it as soon as he hears Meg’s jeering voice. Your angel needs you, she says. And I need a break. And just like that he’s on his way to Indiana.
Meg meets him outside of Cas’s room to brief him.
He normally just lies in bed, she says. He’s practically comatose most of the time so even you should be able to handle it. He’s not asleep. You’ll know if he is because if he’s asleep, he’s having nightmares. I mean, I’m pretty sure the nightmare thing is all the time. But when he’s awake he can stop the screaming. When he’s asleep, he can’t.
And that’s not all, of course, because it’s Meg and she likes to hear herself talk.
You better fuckin’ watch him, she continues. I did not sit here on my ass playing nurse for however many weeks just so you could fuck it all up.
If he wakes up, do what he says, she commands. Because if you don’t he will bolt, and if he bolts, you will not be able to find him. My advice: don’t let him out of your sight. He’s a danger to himself.
Why do I care, Dean mutters.
Meg just laughs. If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t be here, she says, disappearing with a smirk.