castielsshield

[castielsshield]

say that

[castielsshield]

Cas Time

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[castielsshield]

[castielsshield]

writing should be fun.

make oc playlists. spend hours on moodboards that have no purpose. write self-indulgent fluff that’s never going to be published. scribble three lines of poetry in the back of your history notebook. draw fanart of your own characters. write stupid dialogue that your publishers might hate. start new wips that you might never finish but write those three chapters that make you happy because if you don’t write them, who else will?

writing shouldn’t always be about “will publishers like this” or “i have to reach this word count” or “how do i get the most likes”.

have fun with your writing.

[castielsshield]

Y’all, I just answered 3 questions about the Vietnam war and I only knew the answers because I read Twist and Shout. I can’t.

[castielsshield]

This is so me

i like thinking about things critically but i also like not giving a fuck too so you can imagine the kind of stress i am under

[castielsshield]

I just ran into the woods at 10:00 at night to follow 2 deer I saw cross the road. At that same moment, a Domino’s Pizza driver pulled out of the neighbor’s driveway. For the rest of my life I’m going to wonder what went through the mind of that pizza driver as they watched a barefooted teenage girl run into a dark forest at night to follow deer.

[castielsshield]

Blink

Title: Blink (Leave A Message Part 4)

Pairing: Female OC/Sam Winchester

Synopsis: After losing Jess, Sam continues to leave messages on her phone as a coping mechanism. Unbeknownst to Sam, that number has been adopted by another person.

Word Count: 1,871

Warnings: Fire, character death, minor violence

Part 3 || Part 5 || Masterpost

— • —

          “Ash! On your left!” Alexander called out to me. I pivoted on my heel and lashed out with my silver dagger as the werewolf jumped toward me. She shifted her weight in the air and avoided the blade by inches. Instead, she landed on my right side and raked her claws across my shoulder. I cried out in pain and clutched the wound with my right hand. Stumbling forward, I tried to buy myself some time as well as put some space between the werewolf and myself. As gravity and momentum pulled my body forward, I glanced over to where Alexander was fighting off the other monster. 

          Alexander and I had thought that it was a single werewolf but, as it turns out, it was a pair that was working with each other. The male, the one Alexander is fighting, hid while Alexander and I crept into the cabin the wolves were hiding out in. Once we were inside, he flanked us and attacked Alexander from behind. Now, here we are, each fighting our own monster.

          The moment before I hit the ground, I reached out and caught myself on the wall the she-wolf had just pushed herself off of. I pressed my back up against the smooth drywall and faced her. Pulling back her lips and baring her teeth, the werewolf released a snarl. The muscles in her legs tensed, the only sign of what was about to happen. She grinned maniacally before flinging herself at me once again. I twisted my body to the side as she descended on the spot where I had previously been standing. I turned back around and pressed my forearm against the back of the werewolf, holding her against the wall. I drove my dagger into her heart, twisting the handle. She drew a sharp breath before I pulled it back out, the limp body falling to the floor.

          Behind me, I heard a thump and footsteps making their way toward me. “Good work, kid,” Alexander said as he placed a hand on my shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. “You’ve got skill, more than I’ve ever seen on a new Hunter.”

          Ignoring the compliment, I nodded my head and pulled a cloth out of my pocket, wiping werewolf blood off the flat of the blade. Turning around, I looked up at Alexander and shrugged. “My dad taught me how to fight. It comes naturally now.”

          “Well, I’m sure your dad would be proud to see that his teaching paid off.” He takes a step toward the door and gestures for me to come with him. “Let’s go, kiddo, our work here is done. I can give you a lift home if you want.”

          I follow him out the door, wrapping the blade of my dagger in the cloth and placing the bundle in the inside pocket of my leather jacket. “Do I get to drive?”

          “Hell no.”

 — • —

           “You know, we made a pretty good team. Don’t you think?” Alexander leaned out the driver’s side window and rested his arm on the edge.

          “Please, I did all the work. You just stood there and looked pretty.” I grinned at him, knowing that I would have never gone on the hunt if he hadn’t asked me to join. His light-hearted laugh suggested that he knew it as well. “Call me if there’s ever another hunt around my neck of the woods. You’re not the worst p...Are you okay?” Alexander's attention was no longer on me, the eye-contact we had broken. Instead, he was looking past me and toward my house. His eyes were narrowed and he seemed almost...concerned?

          “Do you guys have, like, a double chimney or something?” Alexander asked, unbuckling his seatbelt to lean farther out the window. He gripped the sill on the window to support his weight as he lifted his body off his seat.

          I turned my body around to follow his gaze. “No, why-” My words cut off as the earth seemed to rock and sway beneath my feet. A plume of smoke rose from the cabin, its sooty, swirling tendrils gripping and clawing at my lungs. Adrenaline shot through my body, liquid fire overtaking chilled blood. My mouth fell open and my chest heaved. I tried to speak but the words were choked out by the thickening smoke. “The house…”

          “It’s on fire.”

 — • —

           People use the phrase “I’ll be back in a blink of an eye” to say that they’ll be back shortly. Standing there, watching my house--my home --slowly turn to ash, I realized that life is too short for a blink to not be long. So much can happen in a blink, too much for anything to be permanent, too much for anything to be safe. In that moment, I understood: given time, nothing can withstand the gentle ferocity of a blink. 

          Blink.

 — • —

           Nothing but instinct kept me from running into the house. Raw, animalistic instinct. Until a spot of blue caught my eye; a cerulean sun on the green void of grass, hidden behind the house. He had insisted on getting it, even after I told him that it wasn’t a very fitting car. That is what pushed me to run into the house, what moved my feet forward and flung open the door with my hands. That is what made me call out for him. I had to find him, I had to save him. “Dad!”

          The fire cast deep shadows and flickering light as juvenile flames licked the walls. I lifted the top of my shirt to protect my nose and mouth but it provided little relief from the smoke-clogged air. ‘ Forget it.’ I released the fabric as another body crashed through the door. “Ash, what the hell are you doing?!” Alexander yelled through the crackling of the flames. 

          “My dad! He’s here!” 

          Alexander’s eyes widened and he pointed down the hall. “You go left!" He didn't leave time for a response as repeated the motion I had done earlier with his own shirt. Doing his best to stay below the smoke line, he crouched over and ran off down the hall.

          I did as he said, neglecting to put my shirt over my face. I ran to my father's bedroom first and frantically searched for any sign of life. There was none. A sharp cough racked my lungs as the constant smoke began to build up in them. I ignored my rising panic as a sudden thought came to my mind. ‘ His office.’

          I rushed out of the room and back down the hallway. I stopped in front of the door--the door I'm not supposed to open--and hesitated. Something was knawing my mind, something was off. The next round of coughs hit like a freight train. I doubled over, clutching the red of my flannel. I almost dropped to the floor, but a crash from within the office awakened something, some shred of clarity. If I sat down now, I wouldn’t get back up. I pushed off the wall at my back, throwing my weight at the door in front of me. The hallway outside was bad, but this room was worse. It was raging with fire and overflowing with smoke.

          There he was. He was just yards away, coughing and burnt, but alive. “Dad!” My head was pounding and the room got darker. Maybe it was my vision blurring; I couldn’t tell.

          “Get...get the hell--out of here,” my dad shouted back. I ignored him and did my best to run to him, my smoke-drunk body refusing to work.

          I would have cried but the heat was too much. Throat-shredding yells were the only reaction I could show. "I'm not leaving you!"

Footsteps came from behind me. It was...it was? “Go, Ash! ASH!” My father threw a leather-bound journal in my direction. I leaned forward and caught it as something in the back of my mind detected another person in the room.

          Arms wrapped around me. “Ash!” There it was again, that word that was my name. My name was that word. My name was the very thing that my home was becoming. Ash is who I am. The arms pulled me, dragged me away from my father. My father who wasn't moving. My father's body. 

          My head was heavy. The light was fading. I was exhausted and my eyes were screaming for relief from the heat and black smoke. The black soot; ash...

           Black.

           Light. 

           Heat. 

           Pull. 

           Black. 

           Light.

           Door.

           Grass.

           “Ash!”

           Blink

[castielsshield]

Sutton

Title: Sutton (Leave A Message Part 3)

Pairing: Female OC/Sam Winchester

Synopsis: After losing Jess, Sam continues to leave messages on her phone as a coping mechanism. Unbeknownst to Sam, that number has been adopted by another person.

Word Count: 1,871

Warnings: None

Part 2 || Part 4 || Masterpost

— • —

   May 14th, 2006 - 8:13 p.m

     “Hi, babe. Dean and I went after a werewolf earlier today. I almost messed up the entire hunt. I had gotten to know the werewolf before we knew she was the monster, so I didn’t shoot her when she came after me. I just stood there and watched her come after me. I couldn’t see her as a monster. I only saw her as the girl I had previously been protecting. I’m sorry, Jess. I wish I had stayed away from you. If I had, you might still be alive. Sure, you would be with someone else, and I would be alone, but at least you would be alive. For that, I’m sorry.”

     May 27, 2006 - 10:18 p.m

     “Hey, Jess. Dean and I pulled over for lunch by the ocean today. It reminded me of the first time you took me to the beach. Do you remember that? I cried when I first stepped into the water and felt the waves. I know you saw, but you pretended not to notice. I don’t think I ever said thanks for that so, thank you, Jess.”

     June 6th, 2006 - 5:29 p.m

     “Hey there, Jess. I wish you were here, babe. I think Dean’s not telling me something. I don’t know what it is, but I’m so worried, and I don’t know what to do or what to say. I need your help, Jess. You were so good at figuring out a way to convince people that it was okay to tell you their secrets. I remember you wouldn’t even tell me what was going on if the other person wasn’t okay with it. I just don’t want Dean to get hurt. I wish I could get your help, Jess. I miss you.”

     June 7th, 2006 - 6:37 p.m

     “Jess, you wouldn’t believe what just happened. Well, maybe you would. Dean ate five burritos at dinner, and now he’s locked in the bathroom. The thing I left you a message about yesterday, how I thought Dean was keeping something important from me, he was just deciding what he wanted to eat five of today. I still wish you were here. I still miss you. I love you, Jess.”

     July 16, 2006 - 7:06 a.m

     “Jess, I don’t know what to do. We found Dad and saved him, but a demon hit us with a tractor-trailer when we were in the Impala. Dad is hurt, but he’s okay. Dean isn’t waking up and the-- the doctors are talking about taking him off of life support. A reaper is after Dean, but I can’t lose him. If Dean’s gone, I’ll only have dad left. Jess, do you remember what I told you about how dad used to treat Dean and me? What if he starts doing that again? What if-- what if dad tells the doctors to let Dean go? God, I wish you were here, babe. I need your help, Jess.”

     July 19, 2006 - 6:32 p.m

     “Jess, dad sold his soul. He’s gone. The last thing dad did was sell his soul so Dean could live. The demon that killed you and mom killed dad too. Jess, I’m losing everybody. What if I lose Dean too? I’m going to kill this damn demon. I’m going to kill it for killing mom and dad and you. I swear, Jess. I swear to you that I will kill this demon. I’ll kill it even if it kills me.”

     July 27th, 2006 - 1:09 a.m

     “Hey, babe. Dean and I hunted down a vampire nest today. I had to kill one as it stared right at me. I hope I never have to kill another one. When it looked at me, it seemed so human. I almost stopped and dropped my machete when it came after me. Its eyes were blue, just like yours. I miss you, Jess. I wish I were back at Stanford with you. I was so close to asking you to marry me, Jess. You would’ve been Mrs. Jessica Winchester. You would’ve been my wife. We would’ve been happy together. I would’ve been happy.”

     Those were the types of messages I got for the next couple of months. At first, I didn’t understand a thing about the werewolves or vampires. I especially didn’t know anything about the demons. However, my lack of understanding quickly mutated into motivation, yearning for knowledge. 

     I began reading old lore books. I bought everything from lore on werewolves to lore on angels and demons. I had my own money from selling my art and writing pieces online, so I never had to bring my father into the loop on what I was doing. 

     I would research one type of monster at a time, taking precise, organized notes about it as I read. I wanted to be able to reference the notes years in the future, so I kept the order of the records consistent. 

     The title of the page was the name of the monster, always placed at the top. The middle of the page was the signs and identifiers of that monster, how to kill it placed at the very bottom. On each side of that was a small column about half the size of the body paragraph. The right column was a rough sketch of the monster while the left column was filled with wardings, symbols, sigils, and other items that could be used against the monster.

     As I got farther along in my research, I decided to buy a laptop to help me research more and find signs of monsters around the country. I was also able to make copies of the lore pages in a document, so that will be helpful if I ever need to move around.

     After the message where the man revealed his last name, he began saying where he and his brother were going to ‘hunt’ the next monster. Every time I got a new location on the brothers, I would read up on the latest news articles of the town they were going to. Sure enough, every single time, the lore would match the signs in the town.

     As time went on, I learned more about the people that kill the monsters; Hunters. I learned what they did and how they moved around. I often found hunts around my state and the ones that surround it. Most of the time, I couldn’t hunt the monsters I found, but they still needed to be taken care of. My solution to that: inform other Hunters.

     At first, it was difficult to find other Hunters to pass the information to. But all I needed was one. Alexander Sutton is his name, and he was the key to my own life as a Hunter. 

     I first met Alexander when there was a string of odd killings in my hometown of Clayton, North Carolina. It was the end of February, a bit over a year after I got the first voicemail. I was at the gas station just down the road from my house. My dad was out on business again, and I had felt a need for something sour.

     I placed my sour gummy worms and bottled Coke on the counter, reaching behind me to pull out my wallet. As I twisted to my right, I caught sight of a newspaper headlining murders. I picked up the paper and began reading the first section of the article.

     ‘New Body Found By Police, Signature Matching Murders From Previous Months,’ read the headline. My eyes darted down to the sub-heading, and I inhaled as I read the bolded text. ‘Bodies Found In Clayton, North Carolina Without Their Hearts.’ 

     “Werewolf,” I murmured to myself, wincing as I remembered werewolves eat the hearts of their victims. I tapped the newspaper I was holding, signaling that I wanted to buy it as well. Pulling the cash for my purchases out of my wallet, I handed it to the cashier. He bagged my items and gave me my change. I gave him a tight smile and said, “thank you” before walking out of the building. 

     Before I made it out the door, I heard the man behind me rush forward and toss something light onto the counter. “Keep the change,” he said, pivoting on his heel and heading for the door as well.

     I was following the pale squares of the sidewalk away from the store when I felt a hand grab my shoulder. My body snapped around, and I took a step away from the person behind me. Instinctively, my left hand strayed to my back pocket, where I kept my new silver pocket knife. 

     Looking up, I realized the person who had grabbed me was the same man who stood behind me at the cash register. His eyes flicked to my hand, and he chuckled, taking a small step away from me.

     “Calm down, kiddo. I’m not trying to hurt you.” He leaned against the brick wall at his side, and he looked down at me. “You’re a Hunter.” It was a statement, not a question.

     “I’m more of a researcher, so far, but yes. I’m a Hunter,” I responded, mirroring his actions of leaning against the side of the building. I looked up at him, meeting the intense gaze of his grey eyes. ‘I might be young, but I’m not ignorant,’ I thought to myself.

     I hooked my thumb in the back pocket of my jeans, keeping my other fingers wrapped defensively around the knife. “I take it you’re a Hunter too.”

     “Yes, ma’am.” The man pushed himself off of the wall, extending his hand towards me. “My name is Alexander Sutton. I’ve been a hunter for fifteen years now. I started when I was twelve, so a bit younger than you, I’m guessing.”

     Reaching out, I clasped his hand in mine and gave it a firm shake. “I’m Ashley Whitman, but I go by Ash.” As I pulled away from Alexander, eyes focusing on his once again, I noticed the shock registered on his face. 

     His eyebrows furrowed together as he squinted his eyes. “You said your last name is Whitman?” 

     “Uh, yes. Is something wrong?” I questioned, my head quirking to the side.

     Alexander rubbed his hand down the side of his face as though trying to brush away a thought. “No, nothing’s wrong. I, uh, I just confused your last name with the name of another Hunter. That’s all it is.” He flashed me a grin, using it as an ending to his reassurance. “So, Ash, you seem to know quite a bit about hunting and I’m looking for a partner. Would you like to work on this case together?”

     I considered his offer for a moment before returning his grin with a crooked one of my own. “I don’t know. Would you be able to keep up with me?” 

     At my words, he threw his head back and laughed. Once he had regained his composure, Alexander stepped forward, gripping one of my shoulders in one hand. “I think we’re going to get along just fine. You’ve got potential, kid. You could go far in the hunting world.”

[castielsshield]

what ep?

Season 11, episode 1

[castielsshield]

For real though, I want answers to this. For one, when you compare the first image to the third image, you can clearly see that Cas is staring more intently at Dean. The only thing that changed between those images was Dean saying that the last time someone looked at him like that, he got laid.

Secondly, when you look at the final image, Dean looks completely okay with it. In fact, he actually looks like he likes it! He’s completely thinking, “Huh, you kinky angel. I like it.”

And you still think that he’s straight?

Credit: @/castielshope on Instagram

[castielsshield]

Noise

Title: Noise (Leave A Message Part 2)

Pairing: Female OC/Sam Winchester

Synopsis: After losing Jess, Sam continues to leave messages on her phone as a coping mechanism. Unbeknownst to Sam, that number has been adopted by another person.

Word Count: 1,696

Warnings: None

Part 1 || Part 3 || Masterpost

— • —

From that day forward, I continued getting voicemails from the stranger. I learned about him from the simple conversations he had with himself. Most of the time, the messages contained nothing but the man on the other end crying and apologizing to the woman named Jess. Every once in a while, details about his life seeped through.

    I learned that he had been going to college at Stanford, and he had dreams of becoming a lawyer with a family. The girl he was leaving messages to was his first love. The guy he mentioned in the first message, Dean, was his brother. They were working together to find their missing father.

     It went on like that for months. The messages began at the beginning of December. Now, it’s the beginning of May. Now, the voicemails started to change.

     My phone rang in the middle of the night, two in the morning, to be exact. I knew it wasn’t my father calling me; he wasn’t out on business at that time. ‘It must be Mystery Boy,’ I thought to myself, groggy from waking up without warning. Looking at my phone, I saw 'Mystery Boy' typed across the front of the screen, confirming my theory.

     Letting the phone ring until the mystery man reached my voicemail, I rolled over to turn on my lamp. Pulling out my chapter book, I began reading as the guy left a message to Jess on my phone.

     Around five minutes later, my phone notified me that I had a new voicemail with a now-familiar ping. I placed my bookmark in the dip between the pages and picked up my phone. I opened the phone, not bothering to look at what the screen said, and started the voicemail.

    Instead of meeting the usual sound of light crying as I had expected, the man spoke in a normal voice. Though it seemed to be his casual voice, there was still something there. A sadness that filled his words, impossible not to notice.

     “Hey, Jessica. As you might know, today’s my birthday. I’m finally 23. It’s also been exactly six months since Yellow-Eyes killed you.” The voice paused for a moment as the man on the other end let out a tiny, miserable laugh. “Life has a bit of a messed up sense of humor, doesn’t it? We finally got a call from Dad. He told us to stop looking for him, but I know Dean. He’s not going to stop looking until we find him.”

     He stopped talking again, letting the statement hang in the air as he thought of what to say next. “On the brighter side of things, Dean and I are getting along pretty well. We’ve been pranking each other a lot.” He let out another laugh, but this time it was genuine. “We went to a bar not too long ago. When he was in the bathroom, I put superglue on the side of his beer. He never saw it coming. I'm pretty sure I've started a pranking war between us.”

     I smiled at the last part. ‘I’m glad he’s finally finding happiness after what happened to his girlfriend. I hope it stays that way for him.’

     “I miss you, Jess. I miss you so damn much. I haven’t gotten used to you being gone. I’m getting used to not getting phone calls from you. I’m getting used to not being able to smell your perfume on my clothes that you liked to wear on lazy days. But I’ll never get used to you being gone.” His voice grew sad again as he got lost in old memories of him and his deceased girlfriend. “I was going to ask you to marry me, you know. It would’ve been amazing to be able to call you my wife. I wanted to ask you as soon as I heard about my interview at the law school. I would have, but I couldn’t find a ring that was special enough to give to you.” He let out a deep sigh that made me feel as though the place where my heart should be was just an empty cavity.

     “I’m sorry. I have to go, Jess. Dean found another case a couple of days out from here. We’re going to pack up and head out. I’ll talk to you later, babe. I love you.”

     The voicemail ended with a beep, and I clicked save. ‘He was going to ask the woman to marry him. He wanted to have a life with her, but whatever killed Jessica snatched those dreams away from him. He mentioned something about a case. What are they, detectives? And what the hell is Yellow-Eyes?’

     I shook my head at myself and sighed. I turned my lamp off and pulled the blanket up to my neck, resting my head on the pillow. I tried pushing those thoughts to the back of my mind, but my brain was already too active to fall back asleep. I turned my lamp back on and went to sit at my desk.

     I sat down and pulled out one of my many sketchbooks. I leaned back in my chair, looking at the stars behind the glass of my bedroom window. Realizing I hadn’t looked at the stars in ages, I decided I wanted to get a better look at them. I grabbed a couple of things I would need to make a good drawing, my jacket, and my phone. Then, I slipped out of my room, careful to make as little noise as possible. I made my way to the back door, trying to stay completely silent.

     I was a few feet away from the door when I stepped on a creaky floorboard. It let out a groan from my weight, and I froze in place. I winced, praying that my dad’s snores were too loud for him to hear over. I held my breath, straining my ears to hear any noise that might be coming from my dad’s room.

     After a moment, I could make out the faint snores of my sleeping father. I let out a sigh of relief and crept forward, finally making it to the wooden back door. I unlocked the door and opened it enough so that I could slip out into the quiet May night. 

     I made my way over to the ladder attached to the side of the house and climbed onto the roof using one hand. Once I had made it to the middle of the roof. I sat down and placed my stuff next to me, taking special care to make sure my pens and pencils didn’t roll off the edge.

     I leaned backward, resting my back on the hard shingles of the roof, putting my hands by my sides. Tilting my head back as a breeze came by, the cool air gliding across my skin, I stared up at the sky. My eyes searched the dark void, trying to identify the different constellations.

     Our house, which is more like a big cabin, is far away from everything, resting in the middle of a massive piece of land. Because of that, there wasn’t a lot of light pollution to block out the bright stars of the night.

     As I looked up at the stars, taking in their ancient light, I realized that they weren’t the colors I thought they were. They weren’t white and yellow like I had always believed. Instead, they were blue and orange and red. ‘I know what I’m going to draw.’

     I sat up, picking up my sketchbook, and opening it to the next blank page. I began by coloring the entire background in a deep navy blue blended with black making it look like the night sky. Then, I used my white gel pen to create a pattern of stars that resembled a woman standing in a fire.

     With my lightest touch and a white colored pencil, I created faint lines connecting the stars. Together, they formed the silhouette of a woman standing among flames. It wasn't easy to see the white lines, but you could still make out what the image was.

     To top it off, I used my other colored pencils to shade in the color of the stars. The ones that made up the fire were yellow, orange, and red, while the ones shaded light blue created the woman's form.

     When I finally set my blue pencil down, my back and neck were sore from hunching over, but I completed the artwork. I packed up my supplies, taking a last look at my newest piece of art before closing my sketchbook.

     Leaning back against the roof, I looked up at the stars once more. Folding my hands behind my head, I imagined I could see the burning woman on the inky background of the night sky. The thought of something I created shining in the black-and-blue abyss for everyone to see was enough to make me smile.

     Lost in the peaceful moment, I could feel a tide of emotion building inside of me—love, happiness, calmness, peace. 

     The feeling shattered in an instant as the snap of a stick echoed from the woods.

     I sucked in a breath, my head snapping towards the direction of the sound. I squinted and strained my eyes, trying to make out what had caused the noise. Through the whole process, I was mentally cursing myself for not bringing my knife.

     Sitting stock-still, I waited for another moment to see if anything would happen. When nothing did, I gathered my things in my arms and made my way back down the ladder.

     Easing open the door, I was unable to lose my feeling of apprehension. I shook my head at myself. ‘It’s nothing, Ash. You’re being stupid. It’s the forest. It was an animal, nothing more.’

     But the moon was cold. The pale light bathing the earth no longer granted the feeling of safety it held earlier. The forest that had once offered a safe place was laughing at me, taunting me. I felt as though I was being watched. Watched by something that took everything safe and calming about my home away from me.

[castielsshield]

Leave A Message Masterlist

Chapter 1 - Voicemail

Chapter 2 - Noise

Chapter 3 - Sutton

[castielsshield]

Writing Masterlist

Title: Leave A Message

Pairing: Female OC/Sam

Synopsis: After losing Jess, Sam continues to send voice messages to her phone as a coping mechanism. Unbeknownst to Sam, that number has been adopted by another person.

Word Count (combined): 8,725

Warnings: Language, Death, Violence

Voicemail

Noise

Sutton

Blink

[castielsshield]

Honestly, this is such a queercoded scene. Cas is under the attack dog spell which was placed on him by the most powerful witch of all time. He’s losing his mind, his sanity is quite literally deteriorating as he speaks, but his first instinct is to make sure Dean is okay. He thinks he’s going to die, that there’s no fix for the attack dog spell. At the very least, if he’s going to die, he wants to know that it was worth it. He wants to know that Dean is okay.

And he is. That last image. Pure relief, thankfulness, solace. ‘Dean is okay. We did it. He’s alive. He’s free. It was worth it.’

Credit: @/castielshope on Instagram

[castielsshield]

also, is this supposed to insinuate that dean NEEDED to die for sam to be happy? his death was the cause of his brother's alleged happiness on earth??

y'know, cause a character that canonically struggled with his mental health, feeling like he's failed his loved ones willingly dying to relief them of their burden is kind of a fucked up way to wrap up a story, don't you think

[castielsshield]

Voicemail

Title: Voicemail (Leave A Message Part 1)

Pairing: Female OC/Sam Winchester

Synopsis: After losing Jess, Sam continues to leave messages on her phone as a coping mechanism. Unbeknownst to Sam, that number has been adopted by another person.

Word Count: 1,375

Warnings: None

Part 2 || Masterpost

— • —

     I was fifteen when I finally got my first phone. I remember the exact date it happened too: November 24th, 2005. My father took me to the electronic store where I picked out and bought a phone. It was a simple flip phone, but I was glad to have it nonetheless. I didn’t have any friends, and my mother had died when she gave birth to me, so I assumed the only calls I would be receiving would be from my father. He was often out of town for business, so he began calling me every day. For the first week or so, that was how it worked.

     My dad left the day after I got my phone and set it up. He would call me twice a day to check up on me and let me know what chores needed to get done that day. On the seventh morning after my dad left, he called me earlier than usual. “Hey, Ash! How’re you doing? It’s good to hear your voice again.”

     Chuckling, I replied with, “Hello, dad. I’m doing pretty well. I got done with my morning exercise, so I’m a little bit tired right now. Otherwise, everything is fine.”

     “Alright, kiddo. You don’t need to do much today, the regular stuff. Sweep, wipe down the counters, and clean up whatever dishes you use. Also, I’m not going to be able to get home tonight. Something came up in the job I’m working on right now. It’s most likely going to hold me back for another week or so.”

     “Alright, dad.” Disappointed about not being able to see him as soon as I had hoped, my voice dropped into a somber tone. “I’ll see you in a few days. I love you.”

     “I love you, too, darling. I’ll talk to you later. Bye now.”

      “Talk to you later. Bye, dad.” I ended the call and slipped my phone into the back pocket of my sweatpants. Looking around the living room that I was currently standing in, I sighed. Deciding it would be in my best interest to start the chores, I retrieved the broom from the closet and got to work.

     Old rock music blared through my headphones as I completed my tasks. Most people find my taste in music as odd, but 80's music was much better than the modern crap.

     Once finished with all the assigned chores, I decided to clean the whole house. I dusted the furniture and the blinds, the cabinets and the TV. Vacuuming over every inch of the floor, I made sure there wasn't a speck of dust on the hardwood. The only place I didn’t clean was the office that my father had told me to always stay away from. When asked why I couldn’t go in, he said to me that there were important business things in there. He said that his company told him not to share it with anyone.

      “Sorry, honey. If I could share those things with you, I would. But it could get both of us hurt. We could get in a lot of trouble if you knew what was in there,” is what he told me. I never asked him about it again. He wasn’t the type of person to change his mind, so I figured the answer would always be the same.

      With nothing to fill the next couple of hours of boredom, I decided to create my entertainment. The first thing I did was I got my online school work done for the day. As for the rest of the time, I spent most of it either drawing in my sketchbook or reading from my latest chapter book.

      When I finally got tired of reading and ran out of ideas to draw, it was half-past noon. Deciding to make myself something for lunch, I headed for the kitchen. My dad always stocked up food before he left, so I wouldn’t have to bike to the store to buy extra supplies.

      As I opened the fridge, a shiver ran up my spine as my skin gripped the cold metal. I pulled out the package of pepper jack cheese, tossing it on the counter after. Planning on making a grilled cheese sandwich, I strode to the pantry to retrieve the bread. After snatching the loaf of bread off of the shelf, the song Cherry Pie by Warrant began playing out of my phone. I would have smiled at the old song coming through my phone if it wasn't for the confusion running through my veins.

     ‘That can't be my dad. He called me only a few hours ago. Maybe he forgot another chore I need to do.’ I pulled my phone out of my pocket and looked at the caller ID. It wasn’t my dad. Instead, it was a number that I didn’t recognize.

     Shrugging, I placed my phone on the counter, letting whoever was calling go to voicemail. I continued making my lunch for the day. As I was setting my untoasted sandwich into the skillet I had heated up, my phone let out a ping.

      I hadn’t heard my phone make that sound before, so I put my sandwich in the skillet and went over to see what the noise meant. When I flipped the phone open, the screen lit up, revealing the words ‘1 New Voicemail’.

     ‘What if it is something important, after all?’

      Clicking on the voicemail notification, I put the phone to my ear. I had been expecting to hear a regular voice, likely the voice of my father. What I never expected was the quiet sound of a young man in tears.

      Confusion overtook my mind as the man continued to cry for the next minute or so. Then, he began to speak. “Jess, babe, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry that- that you- you’re-.” The man’s voice cut off as he got hit with another wave of tears. He sniffed and then began talking through his sobs again. “I love you, babe. I have to go now. Dean is coming out of the shower. I love you so damn much. I wish I were with you right now. I’m going to find the thing that took you from me. I’m going with Dean to find it. I wish I had never left to go on that stupid hunting trip with Dean.” He sucked in a breath, trying to calm himself down. Beginning to sob once more, he was able to choke out one final sentence. “I’ll call you again later. I love you, Jess.”

      The voicemail ended, and the phone gave me the option to either delete the message or keep it. I went to press delete, but then I thought back to the one-sided conversation sent to my phone. This man had lost somebody meaningful to him. He was still calling her number, leaving her messages of him sobbing. He was apologizing for something.

      I clicked down and pressed the save button. ‘He deserves to have somebody listen. I may not know him in any way, but he was hiding his messages from someone named Dean, with whom he was traveling. Someone needs to hear him; someone needs to care. If I’m the one who’s getting the messages, then I’m the person who needs to care.’

      I flipped my phone shut and set it down on the counter. As I turned around to tend to my sandwich, my eyes met the sight of smoke. It was from my grilled cheese, which was now entirely burned. ‘I’m not hungry anymore.’

      I threw it out and went to sit down on the couch, thinking about the voicemail, wondering if I could help. ‘I’ll let the man keep leaving messages. If he’s experiencing so much pain over this girl, he deserves to be able to feel like he’s talking to her.’

      My eyes fluttered shut shortly afterward, restless sleep overtaking my mind. Though I knew nothing about the other man, his words haunted my dreams. While I slept, my brain raced with scenarios of how the mystery boy could have lost the girl he loved so much. It might have been an accident. It might have been suicide. But whatever it was, I'll likely never know.