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spn-fanfic-reblog-writes · 2 days ago

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Tennessee Whiskey & Strawberry Wine

PAIRING: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader GENRE: Angst & Fluff TO NOTE/WARNINGS: Alcohol consumption, swearing, Dean is really pathetic in this one, past established relationship, mentions of arguments/breakups, (mutual) pining, suggestive innuendos but nothing explicit, second chances? WORD COUNT: 3.1k SUMMARY: It's been months since you broke up with Dean and he's never been able to fully move on. It's when you run into him again that you realize... maybe, just maybe, neither have you. A/N: This is for @rubyvhs' 500 celebration! I got the song 'Tennessee Whiskey' by Austin Giorgio and if that song doesn't scream Dean Winchester, then I don't know. It was a no-brainer to me. Congratulations again, Laila, on 500 well deserved followers!! CREDIT/LINKS: Lace divider, reblog divider, header images edited by me, Dean gif

“I know I ordered a strong whiskey, but I didn’t expect you to make me this weak.”

He remembers you giggling at that cheesy line, the sound still clear as a bell and as angelic as one too. Even today, months after watching you walk away, he can picture the way you rolled your eyes and smiled at him. Bright and joyful.

A stark contrast to the otherwise dull and cruel reality bestowed upon you and him.

Not that you never got along. Quite the opposite, actually.

You and Dean had clicked immediately after meeting for the first time, especially after learning how much you had in common. Then, after working on several cases together, one thing lead to another and at some point you two had become inseparable.

The infamous duo. The ‘it couple’ among hunters. With just as much of a tragic ending as any actual celebrity’s scandalous love story too, sadly.

For your similarities were two sides of the same coin — a common ground for the two of you to understand and to relate to each other, yes. But also a bottomless pit of stubbornness and reason for anger.

So much anger. Endless arguing, with neither of you letting up and both of you doubling down.

Dean always loved your temper, your passion — he still does. But when two hotheads collide, an explosion is bound to happen. You were doomed from the start.

As capable as both of you were when it came to hunting, fighting the ugly monsters between yourselves was a losing battle.

You guys only knew how to exorcise the demons outside your relationship. The two of you could lift any curse except your constant fighting. And now, Dean is left chasing those memories of you like he would a ghost. Not to put it to rest, but to let it haunt his broken heart.

Despite Dean’s apprehension, Sam has insisted on taking a case in Nashville. Everything here reminds Dean of you, not least the very same bar where he first met you.

Love at first sight is something so cliché and Dean Winchester doesn’t do romance. Or rather, he didn’t. Not before getting to know you. In many ways, that fateful evening had changed his life. Had changed him.

Part of him wonders if it’s ever possible again, preferably with you. But he knows such thinking is wishful. Or maybe anxiety inducing. Probably a little bit of both.

Although he’s well aware that (a) the chances of actually running into you here are pretty low, and (b) he doesn’t even know if he could actually take seeing you again, Dean finds himself at the bar’s counter, where he orders an overpriced shot of Tennessee Whiskey and listens to the bartender’s overenthusiastic lecture of said local specialty.

She’s a pretty girl, working her charms on any potentially generous patron. Without a doubt she’s able to sweet-talk multiple customers into a huge tip. And fuck it, even Dean indulges and orders a second shot, followed by a third.

Though he swears, sip by sip, the whiskey began to taste like you.

His time here turns into a vicious cycle of nostalgia, wanting to forget, and being forced to remember all over again.

The liquid burns in his throat and it blurs his vision. For a second he thinks he could pretend the girl serving him his fourth drink was you. In his mind her hair changes its color to yours, but when he realizes he’s not able to get your voice right, he’s giving up.

What a horrible idea to come to this bar of all places to forget about you. What a laughable idea to hope he might see you again. Pathetic, even. Both of it. All of it. All of him.

No matter how cute — and under different circumstances, he might’ve hit on her in more serious fashion — she’s not you. She never could be, nobody can. And maybe she doesn’t have to be.

“You know, sweetheart,” he trails off, committed to erasing you from his memory tonight.

The woman giggles and it sounds so wrong in his ears. Her cheeks warm up but the pink shade doesn’t look right to him.

“I know I ordered a strong whiskey,” Dean grins, albeit the curl of his lips is lopsided and the words feel wrong in his mouth. “But I didn’t expect—”

It’s all too different from when he’d say these words to you. Not to mention how unfair it feels towards the girl, to you, even to himself to recycle that cheap tactic.

He doesn’t get to finish his act anyway. Not when the scent of sweet vanilla and strawberries wafts through the air and swallows his attention whole. He interrupts himself midsentence, heart threatening to leap into his throat and blocking any and every further word.

He’d recognize the perfume anywhere. Or the electricity that crackles dangerously within the small space between his arm and that of the new patron. His green eyes barely dare to glance to the source of the dizzying aura.

At last, they settle on the stool next to his. Where you’re making yourself comfortable, nonchalantly combing your fingers through your hair — it’s gotten longer since he’s last seen you — and smiling at the waitress.

“What he was trying to say,” you speak and your voice makes his heart burst on the spot, “is to add another one to his tab. Along with one glass of wine, please. Red.”

Dean must’ve been staring and gaping at you like an idiot, mouth still open in shock and eyes just as wide, because you give him a brief one-over and giggle softly. That godforsaken giggle that makes every fiber of him buzz with warmth.

“Hey, Dean,” you smile and even though it’s a little tense, awkward even, you pull it off with such ease. “I gotta say, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

How you can just start up a conversation with him baffles him. Then again, you always had the ability to make things seem so easy.

He’s still busy trying to process that you’re here, right next to him. Too busy to realize he’s looking like a complete idiot — already tipsy, caught red handed, and unable to come up with a proper response.

“What brings you to Nashville, Dean?”

Where he can’t get out a single word, you keep talking to him as if nothing happened. As if you didn’t walk out that door all those months ago. You avert your gaze from him and glance over to the waitress that’s tending to your order.

If he didn’t know it any better, he’d say there’s a spark of jealousy dimming the familiar spark in your eyes.

You lower your voice. Hell, you lean closer to him and your elbow touches his and since he can’t freeze anymore than already, he thinks he might turn into stone and marble instead. Your smirk is subtle but mischievious while you whisper to him: “Looking for love?”

Dean’s pretty sure that he’s already found it.

“Sammy and I are workin’ on a case nearby,” he finally manages to explain, after clearing his throat. He picks up his empty glass, deft fingers toying with its rim.

You purse your lips, then you press them together into a thin line, before releasing the plump of it with the faintest pop. You’re trying to kill him, you have to be.

“Didn’t know you were around here still,” he mumbles and prays you don’t notice the tremble in his voice — or, if you do, that you’ll attribute it to the abundance of whiskeys he’s had.

“I never left,” you reply swiftly.

He can’t help but cringe. Because you have. You have left it all behind.

The bartender returns with another shot of whiskey and a glass of wine. She blinks between you and Dean for a second, before reluctantly turning her back on you two. Dean knows his chances with her are blown, but that’s not what he’s bitter about.

He’s bitter about you. About you waltzing in and stomping on his ripped out heart.

“Sorry,” you sigh with a pout, “I ruined your game.”

Without a word, Dean sets his empty glass down onto the counter.

“It’s just… well, I saw you sitting here and thought I should say hi,” you continue.

He picks up the new glass, still not responding.

“It’s been a while, I thought we could catch up and—”

Dean finally looks up, straight towards you with an expression that’s difficult to read, but apparently enough to shut you up. Apparently he’s not happy seeing you. Or maybe he is, he honestly doesn’t know himself.

“What kind of reunion were you hoping for, sugar?”

Your eyes widen at his question, even more so at the use of that petname. An endearment you haven’t heard him say to you in so long. It used to be such a casualty, something you’ve always taken for granted, that you’re shocked you forgot its effect.

“I don’t know,” you admit meekly. “I honestly didn’t think we’d ever get one, you know?”

Dean thinks over your answer for a moment. Realistically speaking, he didn’t think so either. However, that doesn’t mean he hasn’t played out the possibility in his mind more times than he can count.

All that preparation for such an unlikely scenario got him nowhere in the end. He always thought he’d know exactly what to tell you when he’d see you again. But all those speeches and words feel useless now.

He raises his glass in your direction.

“Here’s to surprises, then,” Dean shrugs, the upwards twitch in the corner of his mouth belied by the strain of his jaw.

If you notice his tension, you do not comment on it. Instead, you reciprocate his gesture, your glass clinking gently against his.

Of course you notice. Of course he knows you do.

Just like he knows how aware you are of his eyes mimicking your wine.

The sweet liquid sticks to your lips just like his gaze does. As he watches the red stain your skin and tongue, he wishes he could do the same — leave traces of himself on you so he'll be with you forever, feel the warmth and the plush of you against him one more time.

What Dean doesn’t know is why you have to torture him like this.

It’s no longer his place to desire any of this, any of you. But how can he not crave your sweet taste?

Yet he’s forced to settle for the smooth burn of his drink, which might be honey in color, but can’t compare to the sweetness of your essence.

Fucking hell, he needs to snap out of it.

“You really tried using that line on her, huh?” Your voice is barely audible, but with the world zeroed in on just you two, he cannot possibly miss your quiet utterance.

For a moment he thinks the alcohol is getting to him at last, dulling his senses once and for all — because there’s no way you’re actually bothered by this, is there? Yet you sit there, shoulders slightly slumped, eyes cast down as you stare into the crimson in front of you.

“What?”

You blink up at him, then at your glass again. “The whole strong whiskey thing. You know— nevermind, it’s whatever. I shouldn’t have bothered you.”

While Dean’s definitely tipsy enough for the world around him to move a beat slower than usual, he picks up on your intention to leave faster than you can turn around. You hop off your chair and mumble a half-assed “Good night, Dean” and the déjà-vu hits him like a truck.

Another unsatisfying farewell.

Another missed chance.

He can’t bear to watch you leave again.

Instinctively, Dean’s hand reaches for yours. His last self-restraint stops him from grabbing you roughly. Instead, his fingers are ghosting around your wrist, not even touching, just lingering.

“Hold up,” he mutters lamely, to at least say something. Anything. “At least finish your wine, hm? You put it on my tab, after all.”

You do not hide the surprise in your eyes, clearly shocked that he’d want your company after everything you’ve made him go through. You look at him as though you’re asking if he’s sure about this.

“Dean, I—”

“Please.”

You bite your lower lip and reluctantly slip back into your original position. You hold onto the stem of your glass again, though you do not take a sip. It’s almost as if you’re afraid this will all end too soon, if you finish your drink.

“Guess it was sorta like a spell,” Dean hums.

His demeanor is more relaxed right away. The second he’s sure you’ll stay for a bit longer, the crease between his brows disappears and his voice is more steady. As steady as it can be with the liquor adding a natural rasp to his throat.

“A spell?” You echo, wide doe eyes looking at him with wonder.

“Technically, I never said it without you around,” he quips, “If I knew that’s how to summon you, I would’ve tried it much sooner.”

You pause, then you snort. He’s unbelievable, always turning his words into a playful flirtation, always trying to smooth-talk you into a giggle. Successfully so.

Dean drinks in the sound and sight of your joy, comitting it to his memory. Just in case he won’t get the luxury of repeating it.

“You haven’t changed a bit,” you chuckle.

“Maybe not,” he smiles weakly.

Definitely not.

In fact, he’s so caught up in your guys’ past that you could probably ridicule him for it. It’s pathetic, honestly, how he hasn’t been able to move on. Searching for a glimpse of what used to be in the bottom of a bottle, in same old places such as this one, only to distract himself and pretend anything can come close.

Dean’s quick to order another round of drinks for both of you.

Not long after, another round follows.

The drinks keep flowing. As does the conversation, surprisingly. It’s comforting, being able to talk to you after all this time. You don’t reminisce old days, you treat him like he’s not a wreck.

The alcohol loosens your tongues, though he’s ahead of you by far.

In the end, you shake your head towards the bartender and mumble something about how Dean’s had enough. His brows furrow together in protest, but he can’t bring himself to complain. Not when your hands, delicate against his shoulder, urge him to stand up.

Dean only staggers slightly and fishes for his wallet, before he pays for the drinks, but he does subconsciously lean against your supporting touch. The leather of his jacket crinkles under your fingertips as you struggle to hold him upright.

“Alright, cowboy,” you sigh and loop your arm around his back instead. His ends up around your shoulder and he can’t help but notice how natural the proximity feels. Like your bodies were molded for each other.

“I can walk b’myself, sweetheart,” he huffs, drawing another of those addictive chuckles from you.

“You’re gonna tell me you’ll drive like this, too?” Your voice isn’t condescending, but he doesn’t miss the half-scolding, half-teasing edge within. “Where’re Sam and you staying at?”

His eyes narrow and you can see the wheels turning behind his glassy eyes.

He doesn’t remember the name of the motel, does he?

You contemplate on whether or not you should call his brother, but something’s telling you Dean won’t be able to stay awake until Sam’s able to pick him up. He’s already babbling unintelligble nonsense, his weight heavier and heavier on you as his form slumps.

“Okay, big boy, let’s just find you a place to crash,” you suggest, but Dean’s only response is a hum that you can neither identify as approving nor protesting.

You gently pat his back and attempt to nudge him into a more upwards stance. He remains clinging to you like velcro, but removes some of that crushing weight from your shoulder.

“Y’know,” he slurs, “I was hopin’ t’see y’again, but I was also so fuckin’ scared.”

Your cheeks warm at his drunk confession, but you don’t interrupt him. His steps are uncoordinated, but with your guidance, the two of you arrive at your place.

“Been missin’ you,” he mumbles and sighs, “’nd you’re still the only one makin’ me weak.”

“Pretty sure it’s actually the strong whiskey this time,” you laugh in response.

You lead him inside your apartment, where he immediately falls onto the couch. You would’ve offered him the guest room, but Dean’s already sinking into the cushions, eyes closed.

“Honey, nothin’, not even Tennessee Whiskey, can give me whiplash like you can,” Dean insists drowsily.

Words he’ll without a doubt regret, if he can remember them tomorrow.

Your heart flips thanks to his words, but you can’t help feeling like you don’t deserve them. Not after you’ve broken up with him in such cruel fashion, your last heated argument having caused you to walk away back then.

A decision you’ll always regret, one you can never forget — no matter the amount of whiskey or strawberry wine.

With a small sigh, you prepare a glass of water for him in the kitchen.

By the time you’re placing it, along with some painkillers, on the coffee table, Dean’s already fast asleep. At least that’s what the soft, but deep exhales, which border on snoring, make you believe. However, your assumption is proven wrong when you drape a blanket over him, only to find yourself pulled down by strong arms.

Dean’s hands glue themselves to the small of your back, holding you tightly against him.

In his half-asleep state, he buries his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling the familiar scent of you — sweeter than Strawberry Wine. His lips brush against your collarbone, tracing the warmth of your skin — smoother than Tennessee Whiskey.

Dean Winchester Taglist:

@ladysparkles78 @ariasong11 @winchester-whiskey @whormotional @spacecowgirl126

@zepskies @calibootsgirl @hot-and-confused @spookyfunhottub @berryblues46

@midnight--raine @emmy21842 @whichwitchwanda @foxyjwls007 @emma1998sblog

@lyarr24 @charliesangel67 @spn-reader @whump-loverz @cassieriddle713

@ilovedeanwinchester4 @mccartneyqp

Put a green heart 💚 in the comments to be added to the Dean x Reader taglist. Please note: Ageless blogs/minors will only be tagged in fluff and angst posts!

#laila’s 500 celebration #dean winchester x reader #supernatural x reader #must read fanfic #spn

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spn-fanfic-reblog-writes · 2 days ago

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this is your sign

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spn-fanfic-reblog-writes · 5 days ago

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Why do you write?

Answering this question will motivate you to write. Hel, it'll even give you confidence to post/publish that story you think is a piece of shit.

This question applies to whatever sort of writing you do, e.g blogging, novel-writing, fanfiction-writing, essay-writing, report-writing, etc.

Everything in life needs a reason to mean something. Ask yourself why you write, who you write for and try to be honest about the answer. There are no wrong answers.

As a form of therapy?

To create community with other artists like yourself?

To encourage and support fellow artists like yourself?

To share information?

To put a smile on your readers' faces?

For the glory of being the best author out there?

For kudos and votes?

For attention?

You actually enjoy writing?

You enjoy the research that comes with writing?

Remember, there are no wrong answers. YES IT'S OKAY to write for attention, for fame or for kudos and votes. It's a free world and life is too short to deny yourself the things that you need. Live your truth proudly😏

I singled out those three(3) reasons in particular because they tend to be controversial and make writers feel ashamed about it.

It's 2025. Chase your writing happiness, man. Doesn't matter what that happiness looks like.

Back to the point; writing needs purpose. The reason behind your writing will help you have more affection for your writing and feel more passionate about it.

Every word you write will have intention because you actually have something to say and/or achieve with the final piece. You'll defend your work more fiercely against hate comments because that piece is your baby and, 'how dare anybody come for your child?'

Ask yourself the question

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spn-fanfic-reblog-writes · 6 days ago

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12 Traits to Give Your FMC That Are GUARANTEED to Make Her More Interesting!

She has an unlikely set of skills: Stick her with a set of skills or talents that might not pair well with her occupation or personality. Maybe she's a hellish warrior who's a beast at knitting. Maybe she's a wallflower with a four-octave singing voice. The combinations are really endless, and this is a great and easy way to inject some extra charm into her.

She doesn't exactly conform to societal norm views: And I mean this more than just not adhering to traditional gender roles. Maybe, in the scope of your world, she has a set of views that many might consider unorthodox, or maybe she's just a little more "off the wall" with her opinions than the other characters around her.

Identity crisis, identity crisis, identity crisis: Have her balance different roles that seem like they have no business mixing together. Have her face a trial that makes her question everything. Have her wrestle with the skeletons in her closet (literally or figuratively, whatever you think fits her situation better). Not only will this help make her more relatable, but its a great way to give her some internal strife.

She doesn't know who to support: Is she stuck in between two warring families? Or, maybe the will of her superior vs. the will of her beloved? Whatever the struggle is, giving her a sense of uncertainty around who to support can go a long way in terms of her own conflict and keeping reader interest.

A strong sense of justice goes a long way: I LOVE a girl who has a strong moral compass. Give us the girl who's up in arms about serving justice in the way she believe is right. Bonus points if she will do absolutely anything and everything to defend her ideals. Extra bonus points if her sense of justice doesn't exactly seem "kosher" on paper...

...or maybe it's ever changing: But, on the flip side of that, a more flimsy sense of justice--one that almost appears to change with the tide or time of day--can also pique some interest. This is more than just plain grey morality; this is morality that can flip for any reason.

Traits that don't seem to match up: Like the skills suggestion, this encompasses general personality traits rather than skills. Give us the fiercely independent woman that absolutely craves human touch, or the high IQ genius who has no sense of emotional intelligence, or the fearless leader who wants nothing more than to fall to the background. You can really go nuts here, too!

She's obsessed with SOMETHING: Whether its an obsession or an addiction, this is something I feel like I don't see a lot of in female characters. It could be a substance, or a person, or even a concept. Bonus points if she compromises whatever she might be doing to touch on this obsession. Drive it home for us, writer.

Double life, maybe?: Whether its metaphorical or totally literal, this trait is a great way to dig down to her depths and tack on some intrigue with her character. Is she really hiding a secret identity? Or is she trying to reconcile two contrasting parts of herself?

She's confident in her femininity: Look, I love me a woman who defies gender norms and goes against the grain of femininity, but in that regard, I feel like there isn't enough writing about characters who embrace it. That doesn't always have to be falling into gender roles, but maybe she's really in tune with her nurturing side. Maybe she's the picture of grace. Maybe she just really likes dolling herself up and looking pretty. There's nothing wrong having any of these traits, so having her be confident in them could be a breath of fresh air!

She knows her tastes and she knows them well: Is she goth? Is she coquette? Is she all glam? However she rolls, she knows how she wants to look, and she sure as shit embraces it in her overall aesthetic.

She's a leader...and an imperfect one at that: Yes, this is a dig at the classic "Strong Female Lead." The fact of the matter is that even the best leaders are imperfect, so if your FMC finds herself at the front of a rebellion or an organization, really emphasizing her imperfections can give her some nuance that doesn't make her seem totally and completely untouchable.

As always, gooooooooooooo fucking write something today <3

(If you like my guides, prompts, writing, or art, consider supporting the blog today! All donations help me keep this thing up and running and all are appreciated <3)

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spn-fanfic-reblog-writes · 6 days ago

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guide to fanfiction terms :D

AU: AKA alternate universe. Puts canon characters into a different setting.

Canon: Original material/happened in the original piece of media that the fanfiction is based on.

Crack: Written intentionally to be absurd/ridiculous. Will sometimes be labeled as "crack treated/taken seriously" if the author of the fic acts like the story isn't crack.

Crossover: Two different pieces of media combined into one fanfiction.

Dead Dove: Do Not Eat / DDNE: Contains what could be labeled as "morally reprehensible" content, and might be disturbing to many audiences. For example, fics containing cannibalism, noncon, serial killers, etc may be labeled as DDNE.

Drabble: Occasionally used to describe short fanfics, but most often/originally used for stories containing exactly 100 words.

Fanon: Is not part of the original material (is not canon), but is an idea/concept widely accepted within the fandom.

Fluff: Wholesome, cute fanfiction usually containing little-to-no conflict/angst.

Gen: No sexual/romantic relationships.

Headcanon: An idea/concept believed to be true (NOT fanon because headcanons aren't always widely accepted in the fandom).

Het: Short for heterosexual; the fanfic focuses on a heterosexual/romantic relationship.

Hurt/comfort: Pretty self explanatory - one character is hurt (either emotionally, physically, etc.) and another character comforts them.

Imagine: Y/N (your name) fanfiction - a reader self-insert.

Lemon: Contains explicit sexual content.

Noncon: This fanfic contains non-consensual sexual intercourse/SA.

Oneshot: A fanfic that only contains one chapter, regardless of length. There are many one-shot collections that have multiple chapters, but usually only one per topic/prompt.

OC/original character: This character was created by the author of the fanfiction, they are not from the original media.

OTP: AKA one true pairing. Meaning the author's favorite ship in the canon.

PWP: Abbreviation for porn without plot. It's just smut-

RPF: Fanfiction about real people (real-person fiction), typically well-known (usually celebrities). For example, Beatles fanfiction is RPF.

Ship: Abbreviation of relationship. Usually used romantically, but occasionally platonically.

Smut: See lemon.

Whump: A character in the fanfiction that suffers greatly.

WIP: Abbreviation of work in progress.

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spn-fanfic-reblog-writes · 6 days ago

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Creating Emotionally Devastating Scenes.

Crafting a scene that earns the total sympathy of your readers can be challenging, but it's not impossible. Most emotionally devastating scenes fail at two things, but when these are done right, the results can be powerful.

⚪ The Important Concepts for Writing an Emotionally Devastating Scene

1. The Build-Up,

2. Breaking the Dam.

Before I explain these concepts, let me share a case study.

⚫ Case Study

I wrote a story about a young orphan named Jackie and her younger brother. Their village was burned down, leaving them as the only survivors.

For the next few chapters, readers followed their painful journey and their struggle to survive. The younger brother had a heart problem, and Jackie vowed to become a cardiologist to save him.

She was very ambitious about it, but at the time, it was very ironic. Later in the story, when they encountered a tragic living condition with a family, the brother died while telling his sister how much he missed their parents.

When her brother was fighting for his life, she was sent out of the room, only to be let in again to see his cold, lifeless body.

⚪ Explanation of Concepts

1. The Build-Up

The build-up is extremely important when you aim to convey strong emotions. Here's a secret: if you plan for a scene with strong emotions, start leaving breadcrumbs from the very beginning of the story.

Take the previous case study. I carefully built up their journey so people could easily relate and feel the pain of the older sister during her brother's sudden death.

You need to give the situation enough reason to feel utterly hopeless and devastating. Gradually cultivate the tension until it's ready to let loose.

⚫ Understanding the Use of Breadcrumbs.

Breadcrumbs in stories ensure you utilize the time you have to build up certain emotions around your characters.

At the beginning of my story, Jackie’s fate was already pitiable, but she survived every hurdle. This gave the readers enough to feel for her while still leaning away from the outcome. When I built enough, I introduced her brother's sudden death.

Hence, leave your breadcrumbs while leaning away from the outcome.

⚪ How to Properly Leave Breadcrumbs

When building up your story, consider these elements:

☞⁠ Character Relatability: The characters need to be realistic to draw readers into the story. This helps readers invest themselves in your story.

☞⁠ Realistic Emotional Pain: Just as characters need to be relatable, their emotions need to be realistic and not appear forced.

☞⁠ Create a Strong Emotional Attachment: Give them something they care about or that has the power to ruin their lives in any way. It could be something that makes them happy or something their happiness relies on. When it's time, snatch it away without remorse.

☞⁠ Have a Backstage Struggle: This struggle keeps readers occupied, so they won't see the outcome coming. For example, Jackie’s constant struggle to find food and shelter keeps readers engaged while the impending tragedy looms in the background.

☞⁠ Attach Believable Elements: For a realistic character, emotion, and struggle, attach believable elements. It could be death, ailments, sickness, disorder, disappointment, failure, etc.

Now that we've covered the build-up, let's move on to the next crucial part.

2. Breaking the Dam

This is when you make your readers feel the strong emotions alongside your characters. All the tension you’ve been building up is released, making all emotions come into play.

☞⁠ Break Your Strong Attachment: Cut off your strong attachment from your character when they least expect it or at a point when they couldn't use more struggles (i.e when they are helpless).

This will not only evoke readers’ emotions but also pique their curiosity as they wonder how the character will survive the situation.

☞⁠ Description of Sensory Details to Invoke Emotions: The advice of "show, don't tell" will be really helpful here. It's crucial to ensure that the final execution matches the build-up.

A well-crafted build-up can fall flat if the emotional release isn't handled effectively. To avoid this, blend the climax seamlessly into the narrative, making it feel natural and impactful.

Reblog to save for reference! 💜

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spn-fanfic-reblog-writes · 6 days ago

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Struggling with emotion? Here are ten angsty starters!

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1. “Not like this… No, I won’t let you leave like this!”

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2. “You have no idea what I’ve put myself through to keep you happy!”

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3. “You’re nothing but a liar! I never want to see you again!”

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4. “Please. I know you’re hurt but just give me another chance!”

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5. “I thought you cared. Turns out you’re just using me to get closer to her…”

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6. “I know you’re tired. Just stay awake a little while longer…”

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7. “I sacrificed everything for you and this is how you repay me?”

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8. “I don’t know how to do this without you… Don’t leave…”

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9. “You’re not a bad person. You just have bad intentions.”

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10. “Oh god! What did they do to you?”

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Remember to try and keep things realistic, especially working with emotions! Tap into your own feelings and maybe get in character for writing emotional scenes.

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spn-fanfic-reblog-writes · 6 days ago

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Struggling with emotional scenes? Here are some tips for writing emotion!

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1. While you’re writing, try to build an explanation for their feelings. What triggered their emotion? Is their reaction rational or are they overreacting? Do they fight, flight, fawn or freeze when provoked? Do they feel threatened?

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2. Show, don’t tell. Describe what is happening instead of plainly stating the situation. Try not to use words like sad, happy, devastated, in pain, angry, nervous, scared, or worried. They cut back on the emotional integrity of the scene and make it hard for readers to connect with your characters. Here are some different behaviors for different emotions.

-Eager-

Bouncing up and down

Unable to sit still

Breathing deeply

Fidgeting

Pretending to do something

Trying to stay busy

Constantly looking at the clock

-Nervous-

Red and hot face

Sweaty palms

Voice cracks

Shaky hands

Biting nails

Biting lips/inside of cheek

Wide eyes

Shallow breathing

Heart racing

-Excited-

Wide smile

Squeal/scream

Bouncing up and down

Fidgeting

Playing with hands

Tapping foot

Talking fast

Tapping pencil

Pacing back and forth

-Scared-

Curling up/bringing knees to head

Closing eyes

Covering ears

Stop breathing or breathing quickly

Biting nails

Shaking

Gritting teeth

Hugging/squeezing something tight

-Frustrated-

Stomping

Grunting/mumbling/yelling

Deep breaths

Red and hot face

Hitting/kicking something

Pointing

Straining/veins become more visible

-Sobbing-

Eyes filling up with tears

Eyes burn/turn red

Red cheeks

Face becomes puffy

Pursed lips

Holding head down

Hyperventilating

Fast blinking

Trying not to blink/holding back tears

-Happy-

Smiling wide

Laughing loudly

Cheeks hurting

Talking loudly

Higher pitched voice

Animated/expressive

-Upset-

Walking slowly/shuffling feet

Head down/avoiding eye contact

Biting inside of cheek

Dissociation

Keeping quiet

Fidgeting

-Bored-

Pacing back and forth

Sighing loudly

Complaining

Fidgeting

Blank face

Looking for something to do

Making up stories

Talking about random topics

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3. Try and bring some trauma into your character’s emotions. For example, something might happen that reminds them of a suppressed/traumatic memory. This is an easy way to hook your reader and have them really feel like your character is a real person with real emotions. They might have some internal conflict they need to work through and a certain situation reminds them of that. They might become irritable at the thought of their traumatic experience and they might snap at whoever is nearby.

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4. Most characters won’t dump their entire backstory or feelings in a conversation. Try and reserve your character’s emotions to make more interesting scenes later on. For example, your character may be triggered and someone may ask them what’s wrong. Will they give in, soften up and share? Or will they cut themself off and say they’re fine? Also take into account that your character might not know the other character very well and won’t be comfortable sharing personal information with them, like details regarding their trauma.

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5. Last but not least, you don’t need to have a major event happen to connect emotionally with your audience. You don’t have to kill off a character every time you need to spice up your story, even simple interactions can just help your readers understand your character better. Show how they react to certain topics or situations. Describe their feelings, their surroundings, their body language. Their defense mechanisms will help the audience to better understand what kind of person they are.

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spn-fanfic-reblog-writes · 6 days ago

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Writerblr I need your help 😭

I've just been put in charge of this writing club, we need 4 members to have a club. We have 4. My friends who write but don't want join the club says it's too boring. The set up used last year was:

Writing prompt

Share what we wrote for the writing prompt

Lecture type thing on an aspect of writing

Talk about our WIPs

The ideas I have so far are optional contests (they will have gift cards as prizes) and putting up posters to get the word out about it.

If you have any ideas that could help me, please please please share them.

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spn-fanfic-reblog-writes · 6 days ago

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PSA for writers who want to be TRADITIONALLY published

(Do not take my words as the word of God please, there are obviously exceptions to everything)

Make sure you say something with your writing. If you are writing solely for fun, then do whatever you want. People who want their work to be a read and remembered by others, can't just have a story. You need a theme, idea, or comment your writing is based around. This is what makes people remember the writing.

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spn-fanfic-reblog-writes · 6 days ago

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How to work with a Beta Reader

Some general advice for working with a Beta Reader in fandom events and other kinds of fannish writing.

1. Don’t be scared to be friendly with each other! Presumably you and your beta are interested in the same fandom and the same kinds of stories, so you already have a lot in common. If you don't know them yet but want to break the ice, you can ask your beta what their favourite ship or fic is, and tell them about your own!

2. Think about what you need, and communicate that clearly. Do you want your beta to specifically focus on characterisation, or do you just want a second pair of eyes on your fic in case of typos? Maybe the most important thing to you is having someone to brainstorm with and bounce ideas off. Either way, let your beta know what you would like them to do for you.

3. Document etiquette. Let your beta know how you’d like them to give feedback in your document. Do you want them to go directly into your text and suggest edits, or do you want them to leave comments explaining what’s not working so you can find your own solution? Perhaps a mix of both? Maybe you would also like for them to “cheerlead” by leaving comments on things they like! Whatever it might be, make sure your beta knows how you want to receive feedback, so they’re not afraid they might accidentally step on your toes.

4. Similarly, tell them when you would like feedback. Do you want to finish writing your story first, or do you want them to leave comments every couple of weeks as you write? Let your beta know when your story will be ready for them to look at, and keep them updated on your progress.

5. Discuss major changes to your story with your beta. Sometimes a story doesn’t quite go where you originally planned. That’s okay, but do discuss this with your beta! If your story changed from a fluffy romance to an angsty drama, check in with them and ask if they’re still okay to read for you. Angst is not everyone’s cup of tea, so they may be more comfortable stepping away. If that happens, you can best look for a different beta for your story.

6. Give them enough time to read. Your beta is here to help you, but they also have a life outside of fandom! Make sure you give your beta enough time to read your work, and don’t send them your 15,000 word story three days before you want to post it. If you’re unsure how much time they need, you can ask them!

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spn-fanfic-reblog-writes · 6 days ago

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Throws writing motivation at you

It doesn't have to be perfect, or some genre redefining masterpiece, it doesn't even have to be long. Just work on it a little. Imagine one day, when you finish your story, that it's someone's favorite. That you are someone's favorite writer. People read parts of it aloud to their friends and family.

Someone out there wants to read what you wrote.

Someone appreciates your art.

Someone wants to know what's on your mind.

@eefmuffin

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spn-fanfic-reblog-writes · 6 days ago

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the ashes by imogenbynight

1.2k | mature | deancas

a 13.01 coda with dean scattering cas' ashes. technically this is canon compliant but i feel like i need to trigger warn for like… cannibalism? not really but. man. idk.

Dean sits with the ashes when they get back to the bunker. Sits with them and stares and goes a little insane with it, until he can’t stop imagining himself cracking open the lid and reaching his fingers inside.

Would Cas be soft? Chalky, velvety, like the white-charred remnants of driftwood after a bonfire? Would he be rough as his voice; as the sand his pyre had been built upon?

With a belly full of fire and whisky and desperate unease, he stares and stares as his thoughts spiral. As he thinks about pressing his damp index finger into the ash and raising it to his mouth. Swallowing it down and letting Cas become a part of him.

He could keep Cas forever that way; absorbed into his being.

Fuck, he can’t stop thinking about it.

Years ago, they worked a case where a young couple had been so frantic with love, intensified to the trillionth degree by the cruel touch of famine, that they'd eaten one another alive. Torn into each other's flesh with teeth as they clung together, ecstatic and bloody. Dean remembers feeling as confused as he was revolted by what had seemed to him a far-too-literal leap from desire to hunger.

Now, though, he kind of understands it.

Because it wasn't hunger, exactly, that lead to such a violent conclusion. It was need, followed through to its inevitable end. And he gets it now. Gets wanting to take the one you love into yourself and keep them there always. To hold them so wholly that they become a part of you, so you can never be parted again.

Of course, that's the thing that stops him, in the end. Not what should have stopped him--not the sick, visceral horror of what ultimately equates to eating his best friend's remains, no matter how he spins it--but the fact that tying Cas to himself in such an irreversible way feels like a betrayal. A punishment to Cas' spirit, however much of it still exists. He can't do that. Can't force whatever part of Cas' grace or soul might linger in the ash to endure however many years Dean has left as a part of him. Can't tether Cas so selfishly in death when Cas had never seemed to want to stay with him in life.

Cas might have been the love of Dean's miserable fucking life, but he's not under any illusions that the feeling ran both ways.

He learned early that it wasn't even possible--learned before he'd even fully slipped into loving Cas himself. Learned before he ever could have known how important it would be to him. Anna had told him, point blank, and he'd seen the difference in her. Human, feeling; angel, cold. And sure, Cas has come a long way -- had come along way by the end. He feels. Dean knows he feels, and feels for him, in particular. But his capacity for it is limited, and it's never been clearer than in his ability to leave Dean behind at a moment's notice. He's detached. Was detached.

So he can't force Cas to be a part of him. Would never forgive himself.

When he had eventually started falling, he'd hoped the knowledge that nothing could ever come of it would help keep him from toppling headfirst into something deeper than a fleeting infatuation. He hadn't been so lucky.

And now here he is, staring down a can labeled Cafe Bustelo Medium Roast and thinking the kind of thoughts that make his stomach turn in endlessly cycling fits of longing and revulsion, all because he fell in love.

It's half past five in the morning when he decides he can't keep the ashes in the bunker. Can't have the sick temptation. Less because he thinks he's actually going to do it, and more because he knows he won't be able to stop thinking about it whenever he sees the tin. So he scoops up the tin, and creeps down to the garage to the Impala, and drives west on US-36.

Keeps driving until the rising sun starts turning the sky in his rearview a pale shade of pink, and he sees a few lonely lightning bugs blinking in and out of view on an quiet roadside near Phillipsburg.

He's pulled over before he's consciously decided to do so.

It's a pretty spot, is his first thought. Tall grass and scattered wildflowers spanning the open meadow which slopes down to a stream. A rusted old windmill stands vigil over the scene, slowly spinning in the gentle breeze.

Cas would like it here, is his second thought. Would gaze up at the windmill and make some observation about the ingenuity of human invention, and crouch down to watch the fireflies as they gently sink back into the grass at the arrival of the sun.

The image is so clear in Dean's mind that he forgets, just for a second, that Cas is gone. Or-- he doesn't forget, exactly. He just isn't thinking about it so directly. Is so focused on the visual of Cas in the tall grass beside him, on the memory of his voice and the way his long fingers would look dipping between blade of grass that when he looks back down at his hands, at the coffee can he's holding with white-knuckled grip, the reminder of why he's here is harsh enough to leave him winded.

"I woulda brought you here," he says once he's caught his breath, like Cas can hear him, but it's a lie. They rarely had downtime, and whenever they did Cas almost always took off. Dean was lucky to get him to stick around long enough to watch a movie, most of the time. But he'd have wanted to bring him here. That much is true. He would have wanted to.

"I hope--" he starts, then stops, drawing his lip between his teeth and looking first to the sky, then to the ground, then just closing his eyes. Taking several deep breaths. "Man... Cas. Cas, I hope you're--"

Okay. Safe. Alright. Fuck, but all the words he has equate to alive, and with me, and whole, and underneath them all an unwavering current of coming home soon. Anything else feels like another lie. His throat clicks on a swallow.

"I hope you're happy," he says finally, and pries the can open. Stares down at the small cloud of ash that rises with it. "I'm gonna miss you for fucking ever, but wherever you are... I really hope you're happy."

With the windmill at his back, and the field of flowers spread out before him, he lets Cas' ashes run through his fingers as he gives him over to the earth, and he doesn't notice the texture at all. He's too busy thinking about how Cas' hand felt in his the last time he'd helped him to stand. How heavy he'd been, then. How light he is now.

It's not until he's preparing to return to his car, wrung out and cracked open and raw as an exposed nerve, that he notices the thin cut on his ring finger. He must have nicked it on the coffee can, or the fence, or the dry grass, and it doesn't hurt, but-- his blood is swelling from it in a bright red drop, and his hands are dusty with ash. His heart lurches at the sight of Cas' ash and his own blood mingling.

He raises his finger to his mouth.

Cas is holy on his tongue.

[also on ao3]

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