Human-Castiel/Anna + Casualty-Jimmy
Title: Human
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Castiel/Anna
Prompt: To Self: The lights at work with all the dead bugs
Word Count: 698
Genre: Romance? I don't even know.
Rating: PG
Summary: Anna talks to Castiel by the motel lights.
Warnings: Supernatural characters being straight. Eww. Castiel POV is weird
Author's Notes: I’m posting this because if I don’t I’ll just keep fussing with it. :/
Castiel knows she is there long before she makes herself known. He reaches out with his presence and touches her, and she doesn’t respond. She is so strange to him now, something in between, neither human nor angel. Just… other. Slowly, he turns and finds her eyes. She meets them unashamed and he looks away, uncomfortable. She makes him so uncomfortable.
And then he’s looking at the thing that brought him out here to begin with, red washed concrete speckled in black, yellow motel lights washing it all out. Something old and tired and resigned to its fate.
He can feel her eyes on him, curious, and he looks up again. “They’re dead,” he tosses haphazardly into the strange silence between them. Her mouth slowly folds into a thin line, muscles contracting in her cheeks and chin and jaw. It is an expression he has come to associate with anger, or seriousness or sadness. He doesn’t know which it is now. He has never been able to make sense of human faces. Too many variables. Too many little twitches that can mean a hundred different things.
So he looks away again, this time up into the lamps and the tiny black specks flying wildly around each other. They are trying to get closer to the light, but not close enough that they burn like their brothers down below. He feels, but he doesn’t know what.
“Everything here dies,” she says softly, in a way that suggests she wants him to do something. He doesn’t know what it is. He knows that the muscles that droop her eyelids and tighten the corners of her mouth mean she is upset. Her eyes fall to the graveyard at their feet.
Then she is very close to him, gazing up into the same light and he is not sure if that is comforting or not. He wonders if she sees the same thing he does. She looks at him and he knows it’s one of those looks he’s supposed to respond to. Carefully, cautiously, he turns his attention to her. He still has half an eye on the specks though, waiting for one of them to get too close and boil.
She is intense, demanding a response, and the question tumbles out before he thinks, “Why?”
And he’s frustrated with himself for asking such a trivial and unimportant thing. Then he’s doubly frustrated for being frustrated at all. He chose this, these humans, but it is very hard to let go sometimes.
Then she is closer to him, touching his host, curling a hand through Jimmy’s hair and over Jimmy’s ears. He is suddenly self-conscious, but he doesn’t know why. He finds a trailing speck, filtering through the light, down to the ground. He follows it diligently until she pulls Jimmy’s head down and makes it very hard to look at anything except her. She expects him to do something, and he still doesn’t know what it is.
So they breathe and stare and Castiel shifts, setting Jimmy’s hands on her waist which seems to please her. Though bright cheeks can also mean embarrassment, he realizes. He starts to pull away, but she traps Jimmy’s hand with her own, clutching it. And then she presses her lips to his host’s.
He knows there is a name for this, that it is one of many human rituals, that there are emotions attached to it. He doesn’t remember any of it though. Her lips are insistent, demanding something, and her eyes are closed so he can’t even read those. After a long second, he decides to imitate her, pursing Jimmy’s lips against hers.
She leans back and he worries he has done something wrong. But she sighs just so. It is a pleased sigh, he thinks. When she opens her eyes, she expects something still and he frowns. “I do not understand.”
She smiles. That is an expression he recognizes. There is no other like it, except when it is a lie. “It’s human,” she assures him. “You’ll understand it soon enough.” And then she turns, runs her fingers over his host’s jaw, perhaps fondly, and walks back inside.
Castiel feels. That is enough.
Title: IDFK FML Casualty
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Jimmy
Prompt: To Self: Write a 250 word drabble
Word Count: 250
Genre: Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaangst
Rating: PG
Summary: Jimmy Novak goes home
Warnings: Angst + Abrupt ending yay
Author's Notes: You’d think writing a 250 word drabble would be easier then writing a 100 word one, but nooooooooooooo. That would make too much frickin sense. *throws this drabble across the room*
The door creaks open, the sound like an aching joint, and he steps inside what should be his home. He already knows to expect destruction, if the shattered stone outside is anything to go by. He already knows to expect empty rooms and dust, if the realtor’s words are anything to go by. It’s been nearly a decade since anyone lived here, and his family, well they’re so far down the list of tenants it’s like they haven’t lived here at all.
And all that time was an eye blink to him. He wonders if this is how Castiel sees the world. Blink once, and whole civilizations have fallen in the darkness of a moment.
He calls their names into the empty hallway, and the silence that answers feels like a cuss tossed back through the years he’s missed. He touches the wall, remembering a wound in red crayon slashed across it when Claire was tiny. He mounts the rickety stairs, remembering Amelia in his arms and her kiss on his lips, anticipation hanging heavy in the air.
His hand tightens around the splintered banister and he won’t make it to the second floor. He looks up towards the boarded ceiling. Dirty, faded light filters through the beams, rolling down his shoulders and pooling at his feet.
He gazes around this place that’s more a war casualty then a home and realizes. He never saw a moment of the end, but he’s just as alone as the people left behind.
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Castiel/Anna
Prompt: To Self: The lights at work with all the dead bugs
Word Count: 698
Genre: Romance? I don't even know.
Rating: PG
Summary: Anna talks to Castiel by the motel lights.
Warnings: Supernatural characters being straight. Eww. Castiel POV is weird
Author's Notes: I’m posting this because if I don’t I’ll just keep fussing with it. :/
Castiel knows she is there long before she makes herself known. He reaches out with his presence and touches her, and she doesn’t respond. She is so strange to him now, something in between, neither human nor angel. Just… other. Slowly, he turns and finds her eyes. She meets them unashamed and he looks away, uncomfortable. She makes him so uncomfortable.
And then he’s looking at the thing that brought him out here to begin with, red washed concrete speckled in black, yellow motel lights washing it all out. Something old and tired and resigned to its fate.
He can feel her eyes on him, curious, and he looks up again. “They’re dead,” he tosses haphazardly into the strange silence between them. Her mouth slowly folds into a thin line, muscles contracting in her cheeks and chin and jaw. It is an expression he has come to associate with anger, or seriousness or sadness. He doesn’t know which it is now. He has never been able to make sense of human faces. Too many variables. Too many little twitches that can mean a hundred different things.
So he looks away again, this time up into the lamps and the tiny black specks flying wildly around each other. They are trying to get closer to the light, but not close enough that they burn like their brothers down below. He feels, but he doesn’t know what.
“Everything here dies,” she says softly, in a way that suggests she wants him to do something. He doesn’t know what it is. He knows that the muscles that droop her eyelids and tighten the corners of her mouth mean she is upset. Her eyes fall to the graveyard at their feet.
Then she is very close to him, gazing up into the same light and he is not sure if that is comforting or not. He wonders if she sees the same thing he does. She looks at him and he knows it’s one of those looks he’s supposed to respond to. Carefully, cautiously, he turns his attention to her. He still has half an eye on the specks though, waiting for one of them to get too close and boil.
She is intense, demanding a response, and the question tumbles out before he thinks, “Why?”
And he’s frustrated with himself for asking such a trivial and unimportant thing. Then he’s doubly frustrated for being frustrated at all. He chose this, these humans, but it is very hard to let go sometimes.
Then she is closer to him, touching his host, curling a hand through Jimmy’s hair and over Jimmy’s ears. He is suddenly self-conscious, but he doesn’t know why. He finds a trailing speck, filtering through the light, down to the ground. He follows it diligently until she pulls Jimmy’s head down and makes it very hard to look at anything except her. She expects him to do something, and he still doesn’t know what it is.
So they breathe and stare and Castiel shifts, setting Jimmy’s hands on her waist which seems to please her. Though bright cheeks can also mean embarrassment, he realizes. He starts to pull away, but she traps Jimmy’s hand with her own, clutching it. And then she presses her lips to his host’s.
He knows there is a name for this, that it is one of many human rituals, that there are emotions attached to it. He doesn’t remember any of it though. Her lips are insistent, demanding something, and her eyes are closed so he can’t even read those. After a long second, he decides to imitate her, pursing Jimmy’s lips against hers.
She leans back and he worries he has done something wrong. But she sighs just so. It is a pleased sigh, he thinks. When she opens her eyes, she expects something still and he frowns. “I do not understand.”
She smiles. That is an expression he recognizes. There is no other like it, except when it is a lie. “It’s human,” she assures him. “You’ll understand it soon enough.” And then she turns, runs her fingers over his host’s jaw, perhaps fondly, and walks back inside.
Castiel feels. That is enough.
Title: IDFK FML Casualty
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Jimmy
Prompt: To Self: Write a 250 word drabble
Word Count: 250
Genre: Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaangst
Rating: PG
Summary: Jimmy Novak goes home
Warnings: Angst + Abrupt ending yay
Author's Notes: You’d think writing a 250 word drabble would be easier then writing a 100 word one, but nooooooooooooo. That would make too much frickin sense. *throws this drabble across the room*
The door creaks open, the sound like an aching joint, and he steps inside what should be his home. He already knows to expect destruction, if the shattered stone outside is anything to go by. He already knows to expect empty rooms and dust, if the realtor’s words are anything to go by. It’s been nearly a decade since anyone lived here, and his family, well they’re so far down the list of tenants it’s like they haven’t lived here at all.
And all that time was an eye blink to him. He wonders if this is how Castiel sees the world. Blink once, and whole civilizations have fallen in the darkness of a moment.
He calls their names into the empty hallway, and the silence that answers feels like a cuss tossed back through the years he’s missed. He touches the wall, remembering a wound in red crayon slashed across it when Claire was tiny. He mounts the rickety stairs, remembering Amelia in his arms and her kiss on his lips, anticipation hanging heavy in the air.
His hand tightens around the splintered banister and he won’t make it to the second floor. He looks up towards the boarded ceiling. Dirty, faded light filters through the beams, rolling down his shoulders and pooling at his feet.
He gazes around this place that’s more a war casualty then a home and realizes. He never saw a moment of the end, but he’s just as alone as the people left behind.