not breaking my heart

As many times as it takes…

Ofc I redrew this, I had to. Look at that face, look at it *gestures to his face*


Hope you guys enjoy~

anonymous asked:

(1/6) "Well you've caught me, Hunter," the Jinn sneered, not even bothering to stand up. Dean untied the only still-living victim - a recent catch who was able to run, and run he quickly did. Dean checked the ammo in his gun with detached muscle memory. "Well?" the Jinn prompted, annoyed. "On your feat," Dean said. The Jinn smirked. "Ah, want me to stand for my execution." Dean watched him without seeing him; his mind focused on something more important and final. "No, not that," Dean said.

(2/6) The Jinn narrowed his eyes - skeptical. “Then what? Torture?” It was Dean’s turn to smirk, a sad turn of his mouth. “It is worse than death, isn’t it…” he said quietly to himself. Then fixed his gaze once more. “Look, I know Jinn don’t grant wishes,” Dean said. “I know how this ride works because I’ve been on it before. It’s all a lie - a dream - a gilded cage. But–” Dean swallowed and blinked, strengthening what was left of his resolve. “If this is the real world… I’ll take the lie.”

(3/6) Dean’s hand was on the door. He couldn’t remember what he was doing. He just stood there, confused. Then the door opened for him from the other side and a woman greeted him warmly. “There you are,” she said with a smile and a friendly touch. “Come on, we’re doing presents soon.” She pulled Dean into the room. “Mom?” Dean half-choked, blinking at the brightness of it all. There was a Christmas tree with lights and presents, and there was cake and pie and drinks on the all bunker tables.

(4/6) “What is all this?” Dean asked. “Something we should have done a long time ago,” his mother beamed. She caught Sam’s eye and wandered off to stand with him as he introduced her to the girl under his arm - Eileen. “Hey Dean–” said Kevin, before Charlie ambushed him in a hug. “Sorry, tried to warn you,” Kevin shrugged. The two kids went off to get snacks. Dean stared in disbelief. The more he looked the more faces he recognized. His heart ached for it but he felt it growing lighter now.

(5/6) Yet something told him this was all too good to be true. It couldn’t happen like this. But here it was. Why couldn’t he just accept that. Dean closed his eyes and rubbed at his face, taking a slow deep breath. And then he felt a hand on his shoulder. “Hey. Feeling okay?” The voice washed over him like a powerful ocean. And Dean remembered. He was okay. It was Christmas. And everyone was here. He opened his eyes. “It’s you,” he said. “Of course,” Cas smiled. Dean sighed. Everything was–

(6/6) “Dean! Dean, wake up. Come on!” The world was dark. The world was pain and aches and cold. His body was being shaken. The side of his face sting from the hard slap. “Dean!” The voice said as his eyes fluttered open. The blurry shape came into focus. Sam. Bringing him back. On the ground the Jinn was dead. And Dean remembered. Everyone was– Everything was– was– “Dean?” Sam said, gripping his shoulders. “It’s okay now.” Dean closed his eyes again and let out a quiet breath. “–no.”

Originally posted by fraddit

So, The wonderful Anon who sent the ask about the war time monster has allowed me to adopt him.

I’M SO HAPPY. I will snuggle and cuddle and love him forever and make sure he never has anything bad happen to him ever again. <3

Also, I’ll probably be doing zee art of him soon-ish. AND a writing. Because he deserves it. SO VERY MUCH. 

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go a sob in a corner for a bit while holding his hand. Because I’m going to have to ask him to dredge up all his sad, painful memories so I can share them with you guys.


Lucretia brings bits and pieces of her homeworld with her. Things she cannot forget. 

Though they may not remember, there’s a reason the Bureau of Balance is made of domes.

Lucretia doesn’t like looking up. There’s only one sun and the sky overhead is painted the wrong color, a deep unnerving blue that makes her nauseous if she stares at it too long. Besides, craning her neck back gives her a crick that brings painfully to the front of her mind her new old age.

“Do you have the plans?”

“Of course,” Lucretia replies, handing the plan to Maureen and closing her folder again with a snap.

“Gotcha.” Maureen runs a quick eye over it and nods approvingly. Then a half-smile quirks up at her lips. “Fan of domes, are we?”

“Something of the sort.”

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