Where it All Began//Supernatural Fanfiction

BETA READERS WANTED!

*taps microphone*

anyone still here? 

*Ahem*

Hello, it's been a while since I uploaded anything, and even longer since I've updated on this book.

Thank you to everyone who's read/are currently reading this! I wrote this during a really dark time in 2016 and I'm still shocked by the numbers of votes and comments it still gets (6) years later. Like, the spn fandom really did it,  huh. 

I'm coming on here to say I'm still active online! Just not on this site. 

You can find me on twitter and instagram @ shabbyplant  where I draw and talk about life. (I also recently opened a ko-fi, so if you want to commission me I have limited spots open!)

If you still want to read my work, I'm in the process of writing a book to be published and I'd be honored to have some extra eyes on the project. It's a dark fantasy ya novel featuring lotso gays and a nonbinary main character. If that strikes your fancy, please get in touch and I'll hook you up!

*insert book character here for persuasive purposes*

I never opened up here about my personal life, but I thought I'd elaborate because so many people have offered their support and I'm frankly blown away. 

Around 2019 I started transitioning, I identify as genderqueer and use he/they pronouns. I've been going by Sam for a couple years now and can't be happier :-)

To past me, all I'd like to say is this:

You're doing so good! You've gotten out of your abusive home, you're married, you got two cats (and are working on getting a dog!), you're so fully in love it's sickening to your friends. You graduated college with a bachelors in Biology (I know...right???) and want to pursue post-grad. Right now you're torn on wanting to become a librarian vs a tattoo artist (because what else? honestly?) but working as a librarian would fuel every single one of your book-loving dreams. I know we never expected to make it past 18, but now, 5 years later, you're still living and actually want to see the future! You've drawn! So many things! You've written even more! You've dedicated so much time into this dumb little book it's time to let yourself enjoy it!

Congrats to you for surviving! We made it through some of the hardest years of our life, and we're thriving! 

Didn't mean to make this so sappy, so I digress.

Here's where I insert a blurb from the current project, tentatively called "The Moonlight Thieves":

The night sky looming far above him seemed distant, empty. Stars freckling its dark expanse like holes in a curtain with sun bleeding through. Yet, despite its stars, the planets hanging eternally in its depths, it felt lonely.

And he wondered if the stars that glittered above him felt the isolation.

If they hoped the brighter they shone, the further they reached, the less lonesome they would be.

But despite their singing, despite the light that stretched into the darkness, each star lay forever alone.

"Cas," a voice broke through his stupor and he became keenly aware of the body he inhabited and the pain that wrought within it.

He didn't move, but felt warmth as his best friend slid silently onto the grass beside him.

"Your father asks for your presence," Isren continued softly as if the message were merely an unnecessary afterthought.

Cassian huffed in response, his ribs aching with the movement. A star arched across the sky before once more disappearing into the darkness.

"The good king wishes for my presence, yet I am overwhelmed with work and find myself unable to answer his call," Cassian said, his words dripping with sarcasm. "How can I attend to my father and all of my subjects?"

He motioned above him at the night, its dark ink spilling into the earth below. Even the small movement sent waves of electric pan coursing through his ribs.

"He no doubt wishes to know the reason behind your absence from tonight's festivities," Isren replied after a snort. Cas responded with a snort of his own, bringing a hand gently to clasp his side where the broken rib felt like it was rattling against his organs.

"Oh the pain of a man who must ask for something of which he knows out of formality and modesty," Cas responded dramatically, motioning stiffly with his other hand.

Isren didn't respond, but his silence spoke of understanding. Cas let out a deep sigh, eyes still fixed to the stars singing emptily above them.

"Care to give me a hand up?" He didn't intend for his voice to sound small, yet the emotion lay palpably in his words.

Isren grunted as he sat up, and Cas heard the shuffling of clothes as he wiped grass and dirt from his coat before offering a hand.

Cas gingerly took the help and slowly moved to his feet, every movement ached, his ribs screaming and his head spinning dizzily.

It took a moment for the world to aright itself again and Cas took the time enjoying the feel of Isren's hand in his own, the warmth and comfort offered on his calloused skin.

But the hand left his own too soon, and Cas didn't have enough time to allow himself to feel sad for the empty air against his palm before something cool brushed his temple.

Isren held a damp rag gently against the bruise shadowing the upper half of Cas's face from a well aimed punch to the temple. Cas held in a wince, air escaping from between his clenched teeth as his head pounded in indignation.

"Those goddamn money lenders," he spoke hollowly.

Isren's silence was answer enough, and he allowed his friend to gently wipe away what he could of the blood and grime covering his face. One of Isren's hands was now placed against his cheek as he carefully dabbed at Cas's swollen lip and Cas forced himself to close his eyes, his breath escaping in an unintentional shudder.

"Does that hurt?" Isren asked gently, pausing as he feebly attempted to wipe away the blood that had dried below Cas' nose. "It might be broken."

Cas shook his head, taking a step back.

"No-No, they know not to hit where permanent damage may be achieved," he attempted to smile broadly but it came out as a feeble wince. "Besides a broken rib, all of my defining attributes are intact."

And suddenly the pity held within Isren's dark eyes was overwhelming and Cas felt if he remained a second more he would explode in anger or despair. Both of which seemed rather synonymous.

"Come now, my boy," he winked painfully. "It's time to present ourselves before the king, throw away that rag, it looks awful."