#sinnersxonly

@sinnersxonly​

Steve’s relationship with art at this point in his life was complicated at best. It had drifted away from him after he joined the army, his life too violent and fast-paced for something that soft, and it had died pretty conclusively when Bucky fell from the train. He’d picked up a pencil now and then since coming out of the ice, but the past couple years in Sallow Hills gave him more time to revisit the hobby. Most of the things he’d wanted to draw were from memory, and he’d painstakingly conjured up the details of Bucky, Natasha, Sam, and the rest of the Avengers in a notebook, along with a number of other things. Lightning crackling off a hammer, a plane sinking under an ocean, aliens pouring through a hole in the sky over New York City.

Then Bucky turned up and gave him a life and a family, and he realized there were things in Sallow Hills he wanted to capture too, and he'd prefer to do it before he got shuffled somewhere else and had to rely on his memories. He didn't have any specific experiences at the abandoned cathedral, but between the architecture and the decay, it was fascinating to draw. Despite the rumors, he'd never once met anything dangerous out there besides the revenants. He'd tucked himself somewhere out of the way with a sketchpad, but a sound pulled his attention up. "Hello?" It was as much to announce his own presence as to find out who was there. Startling someone way out here seemed like a bad idea.

@sinnersxonly​

It was after dark by the time Steve stepped out of the White Rabbit, shrugging into his jacket. Alcohol had little effect on him, but that didn't stop him from enjoying the atmosphere or stopping by to look in on Steph from time to time. It was also the reason he knew he wasn't drunk when he glimpsed some sort of pale animal shape in the trees. There were plenty of odd things in Sallow Hills--Halloween alone this year had been an adventure--but outside of the revenants, it was one of the most unsettling he’d seen firsthand.

It was always his first instinct to chase down a threat, but he hesitated because he knew Bucky would kill him if he went tearing into the woods at night by himself without so much as a weapon on him (assuming those even worked on things out of legends and folklore). He didn't even know if it was a threat, just that it was creepy as all get out. "Jesus H. Christ," he muttered, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "I know I didn't drink enough to hallucinate that."

@sinnersxonly​

Since meeting the Winchesters, Castiel was used to uncertainty, but Sallow Hills had thrown even more things into question. There was little need for hunters here, the supernatural coexisting more or less peacefully alongside the human population. If that was true here, he wondered whether it hadn't always been true, if there had always been a better way if only they'd thought to look for it. They were thoughts he'd never share with Dean, who struggled enough here without hunting to fall back on. He wasn't going to add his own doubts to that.

These days, his only goal besides looking after his family was to do more good than harm, and while it was far from a peaceful place, working at the hospital gave him that much. He had no formal medical training, but he'd picked up enough to make himself useful, and he occasionally used his grace for healing if he could do it without being too obvious. People who were already familiar with magic just assumed that's what it was, and he didn't correct them. People tended to have strong reactions to angels and demons, heaven and hell, and he saw no reason to broadcast the fact.

He had no need for eating or drinking or rest, but never taking a break drew unnecessary attention. He usually used them to ignore a cup of coffee and answer Dean's texts. They were mostly incomprehensible memes, but Cas was starting to pick up on more of the pop culture references since movie nights became a regular thing. He sent back cute animal gifs and random emojis because that made no more or less sense than anything else. He tipped his head up when someone else approached, nodding a polite greeting. "Hello."

[ imesssage to Loki ] Not really my style. You’ll get over it. 

[ imessage to imbécile ] sounds like a you problem, mon amie. 

[ imessage to imbécile ] and i do not hate you. i think you’re a deregulate, but i do not hate you. 

[ imessage to imbécile ] let me know if you need help getting home.