Seen.

Castiel and his pet uh Catsiel

Finally, after almost 6 months of waiting, I can now share my @supernaturalartbook​ entry with you all!

The artwork is titled “Safe Passage”, and shows Castiel escorting a soul through the desolate plains of Hell.

jesus

Dean would be such a mess

a hot, hot, hot, hopeless mess

he wouldn’t even know where to look

he probably sees Cas for the first time about a patient that Cas brought in

he storms into the parademics’ lounge (or whatever, don’t ask me, I’ve been to a hospital, like, once in my entire life)

“who’s the one that brought in Mrs. Baker”

Rufus just grunts from over his coffee and points him in the direction of the locker room

Dean catches a glimpse of a tattooed, muscular back as the guy finishes putting his shirt on. It’s some damn fine back, and Dean would probably classify it as Highly Problematic, but he doesn’t have the time, as the guy turns around to face him, and oh god, this is not good, not good at all.

Dean’s probably like “don’t look at his pecs, why are these shirts so tight, don’t look at his pecs, don’t look at them”, so he looks to the side, only to stare at the Equally Problematic Bicep, oh no, more tattoos peeking from under the shirt sleeve, so Dean drags his gaze up some Highly Controversial Neck covered in Scandalous Stubble, which also covers a Ridiculously Inappropriate Jawline, and oh god, this is hopeless, Dean thinks, as he catches a sight of Obscenely Pink Lips and an Absurdly Straight Nose to finally end this terrible journey on a pair of eyes so blue they just don’t make any sense, because why would anyone need eyes that blue, this is not how evolution works. This is a nightmare. There’s nowhere to hide, nowhere to look. There’s not a single part of this guy’s body that Dean doesn’t find utterly delicious.

Dean suddenly feels exhausted, and he’s just three hours into a 14-hours shift.

In the next 10 miutes, he’s either gonna get fired for molesting a coworker or he’s gonna make a spectacular fool of himself, Dean just knows it, as he stares helplessly at the guy’s brilliant mop of dark hair.

He tries. By god, does he try.

“Are you the one who brought Mrs. Baker in?”

The guy just squints at Dean, grunts non-committally, and brushes past him to the lounge, where he proceeds to pour himself coffee into a huge bright pink mug. He takes a sip, while Dean just gapes at him.

The mug states: “I like my coffee how I like myself: strong, sweet and too hot for you”.

Dean honestly hates his life.

(The mug is a gift from Gabriel, obviously, but Dean doesn’t know it yet.)

The guy closes his eyes, tips his head back and sighs deeply, tiredly. Dean watches the way his Adam’s apple bob and hates his life a little bit more.

And then the man opens his eyes, and finally focuses all his attention on Dean, which is probably even worse, because seriously, dude has eyes like lasers, and Dean just wasn’t prepared for this.

“Now. Repeat”, the guy rumbles and leans back on the table. Dean honestly tries to focus through the haze of lust and indignation on being so easily ignored in favour of some coffee in a cheeky mug.

“Mrs. Baker. Mildred Baker. Did you bring her in last night. Her niece has some questions on what you gave her.”

The guy frowns, deep in thoughts, and absent-mindedly pulls the hem of his shirt up to scratch at his side. “I remember her”, he says, unknowingly giving Dean a sultry glimpse of a tragically attractive, sharp and tan hip bone.

Dean will have to quit his job. Screw this, he’ll have to skip the town and change his name altogether, if he wants to survive this.

On the nearest occasion, Dean confronts Gabe about his supposedly little brother.

“You said he was scrawny!”

Gabe frowns exaggeratedly. “Isn’t he? He might have grown up a bit in the last ten years or so. Why would I notice, it’s not like I want a piece of that. Unlike some others.”

“He has tattoos.”

“Oh yeah, and trust me when I say you don’t wanna know how far down they extend. Or maybe you do?”

“That’s the opposite of lame!”

“They’re really nerdy ones. All of them. So nerdy. Much lame. Things from books and whatnots. Maybe you should ask him about them, then you’ll see how lame he really is.”

“His biceps are the size of your skull”, Dean whines pitifully. It’s just not fair. He feels so betrayed. Gabriel claps him on the shoulder.

“Yeah, looks totally wrong, doesn’t it? I keep telling the kid to leave off the weights, but then he runs more, and his thighs get all huge, and he can’t wear normal underwear. What a weirdo.” Gabriel sighs theatrically. “Sometimes I’m so worried about the pipsqueak. He’ll never find himself a man with thighs like these.”

“Dean, I’m confused to why you’re so flustered. This is much, much more innocent than the activities we were engaged in yesterday evening…” “Cas. Not another word.”

It’s weird to draw drag on a face you’ve already drawn. I’ve painted clown faces and other kinds of makeup, but drag is about adding fake dimension. Except you have to add dimension in a way that looks like makeup and not just realism otherwise it would simply look like his face. I don’t know if that makes sense, but basically I had to treat this like an actual makeup process to get it to work—foundation, concealer, powder, contour, etc.