#Dean slant

[tiktaalic]

deangirl casgirl dichotomy vibes

points in the cas girl column:

-quit watching s9 because they were too mean to cas

-6 7 11 bottom of my season rankings because not enough cas

-followed castielcaps for years after i dropped supernatural

-started watching supernatural again because i heard he was going to die and i felt i owed it to him to see him off for the final time

points in the dean girl column:

-dean dying in fics not funny not funny at all unfunny by far it wasnt funny

[bitchinfawkseh]

•♡ Pages of Affection ♡•

Dean Winchester x girly girl reader

Summary: You and Dean go to the library to investigate a case. While searching through some old papers and clippings, you discover a series of old love letters. Dean thinks they're stupid - you think they are romantic. In an attempt to make you feel special, he writes you a love letter.

Word count: 1288

Book after book, page after page, and still nothing. Nothing that would help you with this case or future cases - and Dean's grumbling and complaining was getting annoying. You adjusted the bow that was pinning your hair back away from your face - sometimes it got all slanted and looked weird. And you'd rather not have Dean tease you about it again. "We should have just made Sammy do the research." Dean started. You rolled your eyes and let out a deep, heavy sigh.

"I can't focus when you're whining."

"I'm not whining -"

"You are!" You interrupted, shooting him a mean glare. Dean went silent, and you decided to enjoy it while it lasted. You flipped open an older and more worn heavy book, the edges were frayed, and there were tons of scratches on the cover. Two flimsy pieces of paper fell out, landing in your lap. They looked to be old, too, with how dirty the paper was and how it smelt amazing

You purse your lips together and carefully pick it up, rubbing the material between your fingers. It felt more like parchment rather than modern-day printer paper. "What's that?" Dean asked, trying to peek at the papers. You shook your head and shrugged. You weren't sure what it was until you unfolded it. Messy scrawl and an easily read "My love," addressed at the top. You slowly smiled as you read through the love letter. It was so sweet… so romantic.

My love,

You've been on my mind for quite some time now, and it's getting harder each day to forget about you. I have known you for close to six years now. As time passes, I fall deeper in love with you. Sometimes, it's tough for me to express myself. Whenever I talk to you, I get flustered. Whenever I talk to somebody else about you, I get tongue-tied. You make my heart jump every time I see you. It's crazy that you are oblivious to your effect on me. But that is a part of your charm. The moment I laid my eyes upon you, I knew that my heart would forever be yours. Your beauty, both inside and out, is unmatched, and your kind and loving spirit only adds to my admiration for you.

You are my heart, my soul, my everything. I can not imagine a life without you, and I will do everything in my power to make you happy. I love you now and forever.

Forever yours,

George

"Oh… Dean, look." You said, passing him the letter as you went to read the second one. This might be the sweetest thing you've ever read, this George guy sure had a way with words. Dean watched with raised brows as you scanned the second letter, a soft happy smile on your face. Who knew someone else's love life could make you so happy? He swallowed hard and started to read what you handed him. It was… cheesy to say the least. It sort of made him cringe, to be honest. "You like this stuff?" He snorted.

You frowned. "It's romantic."

"It's cheesy, is what it is."

"He loved whoever he sent this to very much, who cares if it's cheesy?" You asked. Dean cocked a brow and looked you up and down, from your floral dress to your Mary-janes. Something you'd only ever wear if it was a "chill day", when you were out in the action, you'd opt for jeans and boots. "You like this stuff?" He asked. You nodded and your eyes briefly met his. "It's sweet."

His lips thinned slightly, "Huh."

And here he was, hours after you and Sam had both gone to bed, trying to write you a love letter. Dean tried to go with a rhyming scheme for a while - until he tried to rhyme your name with something that wasn't completely stupid and couldn't think of anything and scrapped that idea.

He thought about just copying the love letter you found - or something from online but that would be stupid. You could tell, and it wouldn't show he tried to put any effort in at all. Dean glanced over at your curled-up sleeping form, wearing a cute pink vintage nightgown that you nearly flipped your lid over when you saw it in the thrift store. You did love all of that… girly stuff. It was very endearing.

Then, he suddenly got some inspiration. Dean picked up his pen again, scribbling some things down on the paper. He knew what he wanted to write - but he didn't know how to word it. Dean appreciated you too much for it to be half-assed - or something that could be taken the wrong way with how it was worded.

And soon, the words just started to flow.

The next morning, Dean took you out for a coffee and some pastries at the local shop. The letter he wrote for you was snug in his coat pocket - waiting for your eyes and only your eyes. He swallowed the lump in his throat and wiped one of his clammy palms on the expanse of his jeans as he sat down on the bench next to you. You briefly looked over at him, taking a tiny sip from the herbal tea he had gotten for you. “So, what’s the occasion?” You asked. Dean’s brows furrowed and he chuckled nervously, he swore that his heart was going to beat right out of his chest. “What? No occasion…”

Your eyes narrowed, “Dean.”

“Okay! Okay, I… I have something for you - but don’t laugh, okay?” He swallowed hard and started to dig through his pocket. Your face immediately softened and you turned to face him, whatever it was - it was important to him.

Then, he pulled out a folded piece of paper with your name addressed on the front of it. “I tried real hard, okay? So… don’t laugh.” Dean warned - but with the slight waver in his voice, you could tell that he was very nervous. You took the delicate piece of paper from him and carefully unfolded it. The first line was enough to make your heart swell and for butterflies to form in your stomach.

Hey,

I don’t really know what to write… You know I’m not the mushy-gushy kinda guy, but I wanna try for you. I wanna start this off by saying I think you’re the prettiest woman out there, no doubt in my mind (and the bows you like to wear in your hair are damn cute.) You’re my whole goddamn world… you know, I purposefully try to make you laugh all the time too because it honestly sounds better than any Zeppelin song (don’t tell anyone I said that.) All it needs is a good guitar solo… kidding. Anyway, you’re my sweet girl who adores all that cute girly and flowery stuff, hell, I even let ya put that old heart key chain on my keys for Baby - nobody gets to fuck with Baby, except for you. I love you, more than words can say. I know I don’t tell you a lot, but I do.

I love you.

Your bottom lip jutted out, and you clutched the piece of paper to your chest, “Dean…” He surveyed your reaction carefully with wide eyes. Did you like it? Did you hate it? Finally, you practically threw yourself into his arms and buried your face in the crook of his neck. “This is the sweetest thing ever.” You beamed. Dean let out a relieved chuckle and tightly wrapped his arms around your waist. He (not so) discreetly inhaled the scent of your hair, smiling faintly when the light fragrance of flowers hit him. “Glad ya like it, sweetheart.”

[starlingflight]

Priorities

A/N: I swear I'm going back to SEL now, but I sat down at my keyboard and this just came out of nowhere. Please accept this fluff filled HBP missing moment in penance for my procrastination:

Read on AO3

“Dean!” 

Harry's stomach dropped at the sound of Dean's name from a voice that was unmistakably Ginny's. He turned to find her hurrying towards them across the common room, her school bag hanging haphazardly from her shoulder, and her eyes bright despite the early hour. 

He wanted to keep walking. He'd thought he'd finally seen the last of her and Dean together since their break up a week ago, and he had no desire to witness more of it now, but Seamus stopped, and Harry had agreed to go to breakfast with both of them in place of Ron and Hermione, who were both busy with prefect duties. 

Reluctantly, Harry halted beside Seamus, trying to look at anything but the way the morning sunlight slanted through the common room's high windows and made Ginny's hair look like it was glowing where it framed her face. 

“I hoped I'd catch you before you left the common room,” she said. Harry tried not to listen, but it was impossible, it was like his ears were attuned to the exact, musical frequency of Ginny's voice. 

“Did you?” Dean asked sceptically. “We've not really spoken since we–” 

“Well, I've been busy with Quidditch, and OWL work,” Ginny said, and even without looking Harry knew she'd be waving a hand unconcernedly in front of her. “But I wanted to give you this back.” 

Beside Harry, Seamus sucked in a sharp breath. Harry’s neck moved without any permission from his brain, forcing him to look.

She was holding an article of claret coloured clothing out to Dean, one that Harry recognised immediately. Something integral inside him had taken great offence the first time he’d seen her wearing Dean's West Ham jumper; he'd not grown to appreciate it any more on any of the following, mercifully infrequent, occasions either. 

“You can keep it,” Dean said now, looking extremely caught off guard. “I didn’t expect you to give it back.” 

Ginny shook her head. “No, it's yours. I meant to give it you last week, but I've been–” 

“Busy,” Dean finished for her. “You said.” 

He took the jumper, clutching it awkwardly against his body. Harry looked away again. Seamus cleared his throat uncomfortably. 

“I'll just put this in the dorm,” Dean said. “No point carrying it around all day.” 

“I’ll come with you,” Seamus offered. Harry remained silent, his eyes fixed on a tapestry of a witch petting a unicorn hanging on the far wall. 

“Bye, Ginny.” 

“Bye, Dean.” 

Harry felt rather than saw Seamus move away from him. He heard the simultaneous footsteps of him and Dean making their way back to the dormitory. He didn't look away from the tapestry until he heard the door to the staircase open, when he did, it was to find Ginny looking at him apologetically.

“Did I just doom you to a solitary breakfast?” 

Harry shrugged, ignoring the flutter of butterflies rising in his stomach. “Not if you come with me?” 

Thankfully, Ginny grinned in response to this suggestion, meaning Harry was spared from dying of embarrassment that morning. 

“Come on then. I need to report back to Mum that you're eating properly.” 

“Why would I not be eating properly?” He followed her to the portrait hole. 

Ginny shrugged. “I don’t know, it's Mum, she thinks everyone's not eating properly.” 

The corridor outside Gryffindor Tower was deserted. Their footsteps echoed loudly as they made their way towards the staircase. 

“Sorry if that was really awkward,” Ginny said, throwing a glance over her shoulder, obviously checking for Dean, who did not appear to have come back down from the dormitory yet. “I've been carrying that bloody jumper around in my bag for days trying to find a time to give it back. I had to take the opportunity when it was presented to me.” 

“Honestly, I'm just glad it's gone,” Harry said, before his brain could engage his mouth. Ginny's eyebrows rose about as much as Harry's heart plummeted. “It's killed me to see you in West Ham colours,” he said quickly. 

Ginny frowned. “I didn't realise you were such a big football fan.” 

Well, he was going to have to pretend to be now. “I live with Muggles, don't I?”

“You've never mentioned a football team,” she pressed.

Harry could feel her eyes studying his face like a physical touch. His heart was hammering in his chest; his brain had conveniently chosen that moment to stop working; he couldn't name a single football team even with a wand to his head.

“I–” 

“Actually, I have a more important question!” Ginny announced, saving Harry from whatever stuttered nonsense had been about to come out of his mouth. “Do you even have a Quidditch team?” 

They were at the staircase now, Ginny was a few steps ahead of him, making their height difference even starker than usual as she looked up at him curiously. 

“Er, Gryffindor?” Harry tapped the Captain's badge pinned to his jumper. 

“No!” Ginny rolled her eyes in exasperation. She paused, waiting for Harry to catch up to her. “An actual team – a professional team?” 

“Oh, I guess–” 

“Don't say it!” Ginny said, ending Harry's sentence once more. Her eyes narrowed. “If you tell me Ron's converted you to the Cannons, I'm going to disown you.” 

“Disown me?” he repeated, his smile growing in response to the one gracing Ginny's face. “I wasn't aware you owned me to begin with.” 

“Weren't you?” She looked away from him, taking the next flight of stairs two at a time. “Well, now you are.” 

“Unless I tell you I'm a Cannons supporter?” Harry increased his pace to keep up with her. “And then you're going to disown me?” 

“Exactly.” 

Was she blushing or was that just in Harry's head? 

“I'd better not risk it then.” 

She was definitely blushing. Or, more likely, he had started with waking delusions to match the near constant ones he had about her in his dreams. 

Ginny stopped on the step directly below him. She turned, placing her hand lightly on Harry's chest, halting both his descent, and the beat of his heart. 

“Let me tell you why you should be a Holyhead Harpies fan.” 

“Is this your sales pitch?” It was a wonder he could speak at all when his lungs had stopped working. 

She nodded. She was so close, her head tilted up to look at him, and her hand on his chest spreading warmth throughout his entire body. It would be so easy to lean down and–

Ginny took a step backwards, letting her arm fall away from Harry as she continued down the stairs. Her eyes, however, never left his. 

“One.” She lifted a finger in the air beside her. “Choosing the only all-female team in the league will make you appear sensitive, and extremely attractive, to most girls.” 

“You want me to make a decision as important as this based on what girls might think?” 

Somehow, he managed to keep to himself that he was on the verge of doing just that, based on what one particular girl might think. 

Ginny shrugged. “It's a sales pitch, I'm trying to appeal to your top priorities.” 

“Well, the opinions of unknown girls isn't one of them.” 

“Good to know.” 

“Is it?” He hadn't meant for his voice to drop so low, but he definitely liked the way Ginny's smile grew in response. 

“Yes, it helps me figure out my angle.” She raised a second finger in the air. “Two: their colours are green and gold, which my mother would assure you are your colours too.” 

Harry laughed; the sound bounced off the ancient walls surrounding them. “So, upon hearing I'm not making this choice based on the opinion of girls I might, hypothetically, want to impress, your next thought was your mum?” 

“No!” Ginny protested through a laugh of her own. “My next thought was that you look good in green!”

Harry's laughter died as his breath was stolen from him once again. 

“Three,” Ginny said quickly, raising a third finger into the air. “This one is the most important.” 

“Go on,” he managed to say. 

They were almost at the marble staircase now. Ginny halted their progress by leaning against the balustrade that overlooked the entrance hall. Harry lingered beside her, finding nothing to complain about in spending longer in her company. 

“In a few years, when they sign me – which is definitely going to happen – you don't want the inner turmoil of choosing between your loyalty to another team and me.” 

“There would be no inner turmoil,” Harry said, acutely aware that he should shut up, but finding himself completely incapable of doing so when Ginny was looking at him like she currently was. “I would obviously choose you.” 

Her smile was almost too brilliant to look at, yet Harry couldn't look away. “Oh, so you'd say I'm quite high on your priority list?” 

He didn't know if she took a step closer, or he did, all he knew was that the gap between them had decreased significantly, and that his heart was threatening to beat out of his chest. 

“Fairly high, yeah.” 

Ginny's eyes bored into his; Harry was transfixed. He waited, barely breathing, to see what her response would be. The corner of her mouth twitched– 

“There you are!” Ron's voice crashed into him with the force of a lightning bolt. 

Harry jumped back from Ginny, whipping his head around to see Ron and Hermione approaching, Ron grinning broadly, and Hermione looking almost as pained as Harry currently felt. 

“Have you eaten?” Ron asked. 

Harry glanced at Ginny to find her glaring at Ron. “We were just on our way to breakfast.” 

“Excellent,” Ron said obliviously. “We're done with rounds.” 

He continued walking, without stopping, in the direction of the marble staircase, apparently secure in the knowledge that Harry and Ginny would join him and Hermione. A fair assumption, Harry reminded himself, pushing off the balustrade. 

“I'm going to tell him,” Ginny said, quietly enough for only Harry to hear as she fell into step beside him. Harry's stomach sank, his brain leaping into overdrive, imagining Ginny informing Ron that he'd just spent the whole walk from the common room treacherously flirting with his sister. “...that you've betrayed the Cannons in favour of the Harpies.” 

“I don't think I actually agreed to that yet.” He hoped his shaking voice was only detectable to him. 

If Ginny noticed, she didn't show it. She was smiling again, her eye catching his. “You as good as did,” she said as they crossed the entrance hall. “But don't worry, it can be our secret for now.” 

[ladyriot]

Once upon a time, I used to believe that the reason I read Rizzoli and Isles' Dean arc as queer was the way he came up in the fight that Maura and Jane have in the first episode of season 3, wherein Maura directs specific vitriol at Jane's "boyfriend" in her anger at feeling betrayed when Jane shoots Paddy. I've realized recently that it all starts much earlier. As in... the literal first episode. And it's actually, subconsciously, been one of the major reasons I ever interpreted Jane and Maura as potentially queer for each other.

In Jane and Maura's first scene on screen together, Dean makes an appearance that reveals a tension between the two women and plays off of their earlier intimacy.

First, Maura and Jane display their close, intimate relationship as they survey the crime scene. Both Maura's immediate defence of Jane as she chastizes Korsak for not warning her it was a Hoyt-like crime, and Maura setting Jane's broken nose present them as intimate.

This is placed almost immediately next to their meeting Dean for the first time, reinforcing him as a stranger, even an interloper onto that scene of intimacy. Maura indicates her interest in Dean non-verbally (which reads as intimate too), and further, she reads the potential for Jane's territorial behaviour to emerge and both gives a little warning and phsyically steps between them.

Because of Maura's displays of intimacy and knowledge of Jane, Jane's response of outright aggression becomes more meaningful. Her posture shift does not only indicate a desire to threaten Dean's intrusion onto her crime scene but also Dean's intrusion into her intimate connection with Maura. Jane slants herself as if she's offended she's not an option.

Um... what is that thing about how you point your feet at the person you're most engaged with in a social situation? There has to be some meaning about where you point your pelvis...

Anyway, later scenes show us what Jane looks like when she's inviting romantic attention from men, and that involves her making herself smaller, making herself look less sure and aggressive, and leaning into traditional femininity. It's quite the opposite of what she's doing here, which I read as laying a claim... on the crime scene but also on Maura.

This is fascinating because, at first, I'd mistakenly believed it was Maura's queer jealousy that cropped up first, but this reading actually presents the opposite scenario.

This kind of framing comes up again, in this same episode, when Jane flees her apartment to stay at Maura's for the night. In Maura's guest room, Jane spies to see who Maura's nighttime visitor is, and then they have that exchange on the bed. The question of Maura's potential attraction to Jane comes up in the same brief span as the question of whether or not Maura has ever had a crush on the same guy as her best friend, intermixing these two potential attractions in such an interesting way.

It's almost like Jane is giving mixed signals here. She's asking Maura if she's attracted to her only in joking terms... because for some reason she doesn't feel like she can ask it seriously. But as their conversation turns towards Dean, and their supposedly shared attraction to him, I'm instantly reminded of the concept of some of Eve Sedgwick's work on homosociality and erotic triangles and how those theories have impacted my own understandings of love triangles in media. I'm going to way oversimplify it here, but essentially when two people of the same gender are vying for the attention of the same different gendered love interest, I'm more interested in the bonds presented between the two of the same gender — whether it's rivalry, intimacy, potential sexual attraction (especially when it's wrapped up in taboos, social norm violations, and repression), or some complex mix of the three. And just, wow, this connection between Jane and Maura is ripe for that kind of reading. It becomes really easy to read Jane's "pursuit" of Dean as a way of attaining conventionality through a connection that also engages her potentially unconventional attraction to Maura (and a resistance to admit that) by being with someone Maura finds attractive. Jane isn't really showing attraction to Dean, but she is very much going for the closest conventional relationship she can that partly expresses her repressed, "taboo" attraction. (I wonder now if this contributed to my reading Jane specifically as a lesbian, rather than bisexual, through most of the series, but that's a bit besides the point).

Doesn't this just make it so interesting how Maura had physically insinuated herself between Jane and Dean?

It's also significant for me that when Jane does pretty herself up with lipstick to go see Dean, she rebuffs him and is consistently iffy about him despite the so-called attraction she admits to Maura. It's also very much giving that repressed queer experience of having a crush on a girl and being so jealous of her relationship, but not being able to conceive of yourself as queer, so mistaking that for a crush on her boyfriend. You know?!

Later on in the show, when Jane is with Dean, there is still so much to this dynamic. Maura calls Jane on a date with Dean and she immediately runs to meet her, choosing her, prioritizing her. It's what makes it so sick-inducing when, after Maura reveals that she doesn't know if she wants Jane to catch Paddy, Jane goes on to tell Dean the FBI agent with a hard-on for catching criminals at all costs about his presence in Boston in a specifically romantic scene. You know, which then causes a chaotic scene that requires Jane to shoot Paddy after feeling up his daughter to set her up on a sting... There was so much wrong with that, I'm honestly surprised there was a moment in Maura's tirade for her queer jealousy to slip in, but it does.

Hell if they're not in big fat queer love with each other, whether they admit it or not.

[seasononesam]

boykingsevent day 3: grandcanyonnatural

“That’s a big hole.” “A big hole,” Sam repeated. “That’s what I said. It’s a big freakin’ hole. And somehow that river got stuck inside it.” Sam shook his head sadly. His brother leaned casually on a railing, peering into the canyon. Across the way, the lowering sun’s rays slanted in front of the west, dripping gold paint across horizontal layers of pale rose, buff, and salmon strata of shale, limestone, and sandstone. Sometimes Sam had to wonder if dad had destroyed Dean’s soul altogether. “Dean, nature worked miracles for millions of years to create the Grand Canyon- the Colorado River’s the reason it’s there.”

- Supernatural novel (Witch’s Canyon, by Jeff Mariotte)

[zmediaoutlet]

Sam’s not sleeping when Dean pulls off the road. “What,” Sam says, although without a lot of interest. State highway after midnight and exactly no one to see, but Dean coasts down the gravel shoulder to the pitted asphalt-and-dirt road that turns off into—sparse woods, a sign that says NO HUNTING. Sam snorts.

“Gotta take five,” Dean says. Sam nods, arms folded over his chest. Shadow-shapes in the dark, his eyes slanted away at some terrible inward thing. Out of the car there’s moonlight peeking through the tree-tops and Dean left the headlights on, so he doesn’t trip and break his neck on his way to water a patch of weeds. He zips up and then stands there, breathing. Dirt and mulch. Kinda acrid now but not any worse than the woods usually are. Not that different from where they’d buried the vampire kid—god, less than six hours ago. Soft dirt there and they’d made a good grave, burned him right, covered the charred bones. Sam hardly looking at him then, too. Like finishing the hunt hurt as much as sitting around thinking about the other dead kid had.

Dean hasn’t got much in his back pocket, when it comes to making Sam feel better. They’ve been doing this so long they’ve got rhythms they follow and he knows that he’s—tough, sometimes, and he can be a real pain, and Sam always seems to have some way to grip Dean by the wrist and pull him up and be solid as mountain rock for Dean to brace against. He doesn’t have a roadmap for when the rock starts to slide under his feet. He can say some of the dumb crap he’d offer to civilians but Sam’s too smart for it to work; he can offer work, or duty if work itself doesn’t do the trick, but Sam’s never felt the pull of that the same way Dean has, and if Dean’s honest he’d be freaked if Sam really bought it. With how Sam’s been talking Dean’d be willing to throw on Steel Magnolias and give him a foot massage if he thought it’d help, but it wouldn’t, and he doesn’t have much left to offer, to try to make it—not fixed. Fixing it isn’t something he’s been able to do since he was five years old and everything went wrong. But maybe it could be—

He comes back to the car and opens the trunk, instead. Then to the passenger side, where he opens Sam’s door, and Sam looks up at him narrow-eyed but not frowning. Tired. Sad, which makes Dean’s throat do something weird, and he clears it before he says, rougher than he means, “You gotta piss or anything?”

“No,” Sam says, tilting it like Dean’s the weird one. Well, fair enough.

Dean nods. He twists the cap on the bottle he fetched and takes a long burning swallow. Sam shakes his head when Dean holds it out but Dean waggles it at him, and Sam’s not yet so oatmeal-hippie-health conscious that he won’t have a drink with Dean on the wrong side of dawn. His lips pull back like it stings. “Good value for fifteen bucks,” Dean says, and Sam raises his eyebrows, and Dean crouches then in the open door, puts his hand on Sam’s leg. Curling his fingers around the inside of Sam’s knee.

They’ve been doing this so long, they’ve got rhythms. Sam’s chin tips down. “I don’t…” he starts, but he bites his lip and breathes in long and slow through his nose and Dean doesn’t know what he would say, anyway. That it was too fucked up, that he missed all the people they’d lost, that the dark was so heavy it had this velvet choking intensity, so bleak no light could ever get through. Pick a number.

But Dean’s left the headlights on. He pulls, and Sam swivels on the seat so his bootheels crunch in the gravel, and Dean settles down on his knees and reaches up and puts his hand on Sam’s face, and watches Sam close his eyes. His jaw clenching. Stubble thick and sharp and his face as hollow as it was when Jack—when—

Dean unbuckles Sam’s belt. The button, the zip, and once he smacks Sam’s hip he lifts up enough so Dean can yank everything down. He’s soft but so what. Dean’s worked with worse. He spreads his hands over Sam’s bare thighs, hair prickling in the autumn air, licks his mouth wet, and when he takes Sam in it’s—everything familiar, good. Gravel biting into his knees through his jeans. He tongues under the soft ridge of the head, breathes through his nose. The rarity of getting to go down to the base without choking, suckling soft, salt under his tongue and the bitter of a long day and Sam’s fingers sliding through his hair, holding the back of his neck so careful. Like Dean will get hurt, doing this thing he’s been doing as long as his life has been worth anything. Like Dean’s doing Sam a favor, here, when he’s split halfway between wanting Sam to stop thinking and wanting his own brain blank as a snowfield.

A weird strangled breath, above. Dean slurps back and kisses Sam’s hipbone, and drags his shirt up and kisses his belly, hair prickling his lips. “Let me,” he says, asking for—a lot, maybe—and Sam doesn’t say anything but his thumb drags up into the soft hollow at the top of Dean’s spine and his thighs tip wider. Dean presses his forehead to Sam’s stomach. Weirdly grateful, in a way he can’t ever say aloud. This one good thing. Then he pushes Sam to sprawl back across the bench seat, and holds Sam’s hips in his hands, and takes his brother into his throat.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Inside Man: Part One

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.2k

Warnings: canon angst and violence, extra angst, smut, fem!receiving

Summary: The gang is split into two. Sam and Cas continue to look for the cure for the Mark with the help of someone who will do anything to bring you back. You and Dean face off with Rowena but this time, you're going to show her that you're the most powerful witch there is, and damn her if she thinks she can beat you.

Season Ten Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. I love seeing any and all comments <3

x

Dean doesn't want to talk about this inside the Bunker where you're at because he doesn't want you to know about this. He called Cas to come out right after discovering that your blue magic was pouring out of his hands last night. All three men are standing outside the Bunker while Dean tries to conjure the magic from last night.

"Okay, I can't do it now but I swear, Cas, I had her magic."

Cas lifts his hand and checks on the status of your soul which still has slivers of darkness in it.

"Her soul still isn't ready but it's almost there. It's getting lighter every day. I can only assume that since you have her soul in you and her magic is tied to her soul, you have access to her magic."

Dean opens and closes his mouth as he thinks of something to say. Sam slaps his brother's arm and Dean looks at him like he's crazy.

"Dude, this can work. If you can learn how to control this, that gives us a real shot at beating Y/N."

"I don't know," Dean sighs.

"The only way to get her back to who she was before is to take that mark off her body and shove her soul back in. All you need to worry about is her magic and her soul, and we'll worry about the Mark."

"What if she finds out? She'll kill my kids," Dean almost cries.

"If you act like nothing is wrong, then she won't know to suspect anything. Look, Cas and I will go find a way to get this Mark off. Just keep her here and keep her distracted. Tell her I'm seeing a French film." Dean still doesn't look convinced. "You said it yourself. You promised her that you'd stop looking. I never promised anything. This way, you get to keep your hands clean."

"Fine," Dean sighs.

Sam and Dean head back into the Bunker while Cas waits outside. You're still inside your room where you've been all night so Sam quickly and quietly packs a bag. He pats his brother on the shoulder as he leaves, and Dean sighs at the thought of being alone with you. He walks over to your room reluctantly because what is he even going to say? What is there to say? He stands in the hallway looking like an idiot when your door opens. His mouth goes dry when he sees you standing in your room wearing one of your most revealing lingerie sets. Your ass is on display, your nipples poke through the very thin fabric of your bra, and your skin glows from the moisturizer you just put on.

"What are you doing?" he asks with hooded eyes.

"How do I look?" you grin and turn to him.

"Hot but what are you doing?"

"I got bored and decided to try some of these on." You walk over to Dean and lean against the door frame. "Where's Sam?"

"To Witchita to see a movie."

"So, what you're saying is we have the Bunker to ourselves?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Good."

You grab Dean's shirt and pull him toward you, and he doesn't know what to do when your lips slant against his. It's been so long since he's felt your lips on his, your body on his. You might be soulless and want to kill him but you're still you. Dean fights against himself to reject you but he doesn't. You feel too good to pull away from.

"Get in here and remind me what it feels like to have you in bed."

Dean steps inside the room and slams the door behind him. You don't care about Dean. You don't have feelings for him. What you do care about is the mind-blowing orgasm you know he can give you. Dean knows he shouldn't do this but he isn't thinking with his upstairs brain right now. He can't think about anything right now with the way you're running your hands over his body like that.

"Well? Aren't you going to touch me?"

Dean backs you up to the bed and you fall down onto it. He leans over you and decides to start from the very top. He peels off the straps on your shoulders and with each piece of new skin, he presses kisses against you, licking thin lines down your body. He reaches around your chest to unclasp your bra, tossing the offending material out of the way. He peppers light kisses around the skin of your breasts before attaching his lips to the place you need him. He wraps his lips around your right nipple while his hand pinches your left. 

One of the most sensitive spots on your body are your nipples, and the tugging of his lips and fingers sends waves of pleasure down to your core. You don't give him the noises he wants but your body tells him everything he needs to know about you. You like this but your pride won't let you tell him verbally. Popping the hard bud out of his mouth, he grins as he kisses all the way down to your panty line.

"So pretty for me. Bet you look even prettier with them off."

"Only one way to find out, Winchester."

He reaches down and unhooks the straps connecting your panties and your tights so he can remove the one piece of material that's truly in his way. He can smell just how needy you are when he slides off your panties. He likes the way your legs look with the tights and heels, so he opts to leave them on. With nothing standing in his way, he spreads your legs. He is definitely going to Hell. He shouldn't want this but he does.

"So pretty and pink," he mutters.

"Are you gonna eat me or do I have to get my vibrator to come do your job for you?"

He immediately dives right in. He hooks your legs over his shoulders so that he can have better access to your dripping pussy. He licks one thick stripe up your slit, gathering the juices that have leaked out of you. He wraps his tongue around your clit and sucks hard, causing you to let out an unexpected squeal.

"Fuck!"

He moves his tongue back down to your entrance and shoves his tongue in without warning. One hand keeps your thighs open while the other rests on your lower stomach so that his thumb can work over your clit. He licks you from wall to wall, swirling it around to taste every inch of you. His thumb rubs hard circles around your clit, feeling the small nub throb from the pressure. He pinches your clit and rolls it around between his fingers, feeling you right at the edge. He gives a single swish of his tongue, and you're toppling over the edge.

You refuse to say his name but you do moan loudly from the pleasure. Your hand flies to the back of his head, and you hold him there while you ride out your orgasm. Your legs shake from how intense it is, and he licks every drop you have to give him. When he pulls away from you, his beard is glistening with your orgasm.

"Fuck," you whisper. 

He crawls up your body and kisses you hard, shoving his tongue into your mouth so you can taste yourself on him.

"Now fuck me," you say against his lips.

"Who am I to deny you?"

He stands up to his full height and grips your waist, flipping you over so that you're now lying flat on your stomach. He pulls your hips to meet his, your ass now sticking in the air for him while the rest of your body is smushed into the sheets below. He strips himself free of his clothing and his hard cock bounces free. You peek over your shoulder to see him stroking himself, and your pussy clenches at the thought of having his cock inside you. Dean is a big man in general, and even his hand can't fit all the way around him. He might be an ass but he's damn good at sex. 

You spread your legs further to entice him and he takes the bait. He runs the tip of his cock through your folds before sliding himself in. He doesn't exactly take it slow, but he isn't slamming into you. Your pussy flutters all around him, and he begins to move. In and out, slowly at first. When he knows you can take more, he picks up the pace. He feels your need and lust for him even if it is only momentary, and he's going to give you exactly what you want. He grips your hips and holds you steady before slowly pulling all the way out and slamming right back in. 

"Fuck!" you scream.

He keeps the brutal pace, pounding so fast that the only thing that can be heard from inside the room is both of your pants, your drawn-out moans, and skin slapping against skin. Pleasure stems from your pussy and shoots out in every direction, numbing your whole body in the most delicious of ways.

"Fuck," you groan, "I'm going to come. Please don't stop."

"Go ahead. Come."

You clench hard around him but he still finds a way to shove himself deeper into you. He taps your g spot from behind, and the dam breaks. You and Dean come together at the same time, and you feel both of your orgasms mix together inside of you. His thrusts begin to slow down until he is finished. He pulls out of you and watches as the evidence of your activity drips out of your pussy and down your thighs. He flips down on the bed next to you, and you turn your head to face him.

"Okay, maybe you're good for one thing," you smirk.

Dean closes his eyes and tries not to think of what his brother would say if he found out about this. Sam and Cas have been driving in silence for an hour when Sam breaks it.

"Thanks for coming, Cas," Sam says.

"Of course. How is Y/N doing?"

"Not good, Cas. She's stealing power from people. That's why she wants to hunt. She's feeding this Mark with power. This is exactly what we've been trying to avoid this whole time."

Cas sighs and looks out the window in thought.

"The Mark is going to consume her from the inside out the longer she goes without her soul. We need to cure her fast. At least without the Mark, we'll be rid of our biggest problem."

"Would she still have magic without the Mark?"

"I don't think so. I think the Mark gave her magic to help feed it."

The entrance to Heaven is located at a children's park in Witchita. There aren't children playing when they get there, only two people who are pretending to enjoy themselves. To anyone else, it looks creepy because they're just sitting there lightly swinging on the swings. To Sam and Cas, it looks like two guards guarding the entrance to the castle. Sam and Cas get out and approach the two angels who stand at cautious attention.

"That's far enough, Castiel."

"Excuse me?"

"I have orders. You aren't allowed upstairs."

"Says who?" Sam asks.

"Hold, please."

A rift opens on the sandbox and the angel steps through it. Moments later, another angel comes out but it's not one that Sam recognizes.

"Hello, Castiel."

"Hannah."

Sam furrows his brow when he hears a woman's name but sees a man in front of him. He stays silent and allows Cas to handle this one.

"I swore I'd never occupy another vessel but we need to have this conversation face-to-face. What do you want in Heaven?"

"Metatron."

"Why? Is this about your Grace? Are you fading?" she asks, concerned.

"I'm fine for now."

"This is about my brother and his wife," Sam says.

"Because you think Metatron might have information about the Mark of Cain?"

"No. We know he does."

"So he says, but Metatron lies."

"Hannah, we just want to talk with him," Sam sighs.

"No, you want his help, but we both know the only way Metatron helps you is if he's free. I can't let the scribe out of his cell. Not again. He's too dangerous."

"We won't--"

"Yes, you will because you're desperate."

"Listen, Hannah, Dean and Y/N are getting worse. Y/N is the Scarlet Witch now. She's becoming ruthless and deadly. She does not care who lives or dies and that includes her children. If we don't remove this Mark from her, she will become too powerful for anyone to stop. I don't think you're understanding the gravity of the situation," Sam explains.

"I understand just fine."

"After all I've done for Heaven after all I've done for you," Cas glares.

"I'm sorry," she sighs.

"You should be!"

The door to Heaven opens and three more angels come out to back Hannah up.

"Cas, let's go," Sam says and tugs on his arm.

"What? We're leaving?"

"Yeah, we can't fight off four angels."

Sam tugs Cas back over to the car and shoves his hands in his pockets.

"So, what? Are you giving up on Metatron?"

"No, we need him. Time for plan 'B'. We break him out."

"How?"

"The only way we can get into Heaven without actually getting into Heaven is to contact someone who is already here. I know someone who would do anything for Y/N and Dean. We just need to find a psychic to make that connection, and I know who can do it."

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[angelsdean]

oughh wait. thinking abt this post and bobby’s last memory being just some random moment with dean and sam and then thinking abt what dean’s last memory might’ve been (he’s alive tho it’s fine). and it’s just some random day, some random drive, just him and cas, maybe it’s that drive in s14 where the tape deck was broken. and they’re just talking about nothing important, windows down, sun up, crisp fresh hair ruffling their hair, and dean looks over and the sunlight slants just right over cas’s face, painting him gold, and cas looks over, smiling softly, in a way that makes his face look younger, smooths out those weary lines, and dean smiles back, easy and warm, and they go back to talking, laughing, a languid calm so out of place among the usual chaos of their lives, but that’s just how it feels sometimes when they’re alone together, and yea. that’s his last memory. just basking in the pure sunshine of cas’s presence. the simple feeling of closing your eyes against sunlight, the way you feel warm all over, that orange glow painting your eyelids, and thinking i could just stay like this forever and be happy. that’s the heaven he goes to. it’s all just sunlight.  

[writingakanatorior101]

His lessons

Minors DNI

Summary: When Sam finds Y/N's diary of her fantasies of him he can't help but reciprocate the feeling

Contains: Bondage, Choking, Dom and Sub, teacher and student dynamic, penetration, unprotected sex, creampie, yandere sam if you squint.

Smut below

Sam's anger wasn't like Dean's that was for sure it didn't come out in a violent rage he never raised his voice with you. Dean had scolded you multiple times but Sam never did if anything he tried to prevent it. You were in Bobbys' care at first after your parents who were hunters died unforantley most likely from a vengeful spirit. It was two weeks later you were handed over to Dean and Sam.

Dean was handsome, to say the least. He belonged on the cover of a magazine or something the past few months you had been with him there were girls pawing over him hell even the last few hunts. But Sam god Sam was something different. After all the angelic face was always the reason you finish. Those long hard nights after dangerous hunts where you had to spend extra time showering thinking about him with your hands between your thighs.

He taught you so much from lore to self-defense the most basic things. He even coached you through more touchy things like your parent's death and that boy who broke up with you. It's not like you don't feel guilt over it you do. Sometimes it's hard to look him in the eyes.

Well, it didn't use to be hard. Your journal was always there for you. Dean used to tease you and call it a diary but respected your privacy anyway Sam would sometimes causally look over always suspicious but never bothered looking. It was a nice-looking diary of red velvet with a padlock on the front. The contents of it would make even the most promiscuous lady of the night blush. It contained no shortage of detail about your love for Sam and how much you adored the beauty he contained.

It should have ended there right you would just wait out the lust and keep a tight seal on it and in most cases you would have been right. But it was a dark night in the motel you had just gotten done hunting a poltergeist however what you neglected to notice was the damned thing that blew your journal open it had gotten rid of the lock on the journal like it was nothing.

So you left in on your bed while you showered thinking nothing of it.

Sam thought everything of it and he definitely noticed the loosened journal. You would be in the shower for a while he isn't stupid he knows what you do in there. He can't blame you he has to as well most of the time it is while you sleep with your panties in his hand the laced white ones after all those were your favorite to wear. He does it when you are sleeping normally he grabs them and runs to the bathroom thinking about the curve of your ass or maybe how you always try to please him on hunts thinking of your voice "Sam did I do this right" or "Can you help me please I'm worried". You innocent girl had this man panting like a fucking dog over the sink did you know you did this to him. The guilt after finishing swallowed him whole he was supposed to be teaching you and protecting you not wanting to fuck you like a dog in heat.

Would you even be able to take him, your so much smaller? He feels like he would crush you. Either way, your journal was open on the bed and he wasn't missing this opportunity he swiped it greedily off the bed and sat it on his lap whilst disguising another book over it. Overall your handwriting was neat and a lot was written like the death of your mom and dad the friends you missed and what was this. The handwriting looked messy now and rushed it was slanted and damn near cursive. It was all about him.

How you dreamt of his cock imagined it and wondered how it felt. How did his hands feel around your neck did he like begging?? Or maybe you are on your knees for him your diary even mentioned that you had never had cock before only lusted for it. Sam could feel the blood rushing in his pants right about the same time the shower turned off. Fuck he might as well rip that damn towel off and ask to take you right there, he could be your first and last.

He cleared his throat "Y/n are you done yet I really need in." What did he need that bad you thought so bad he needed the door open while you were naked. Without being able to say anything the door opened and your towel fell from the shock.

What was even weirder was your dairy in his left hand you remember writing that page vividly it was the one about your fantasy with him you even had your hand in your pants while you did it. "I see you found my diary Sam."

"I understand why this needed a lock now, don't be embarrassed this is normal." Despite his statement, your cheeks were still red and you were naked in front of him. You noticed one very prominent bulge in his pants. He makes steps towards you. "From my understanding princess, you have never had any cock ever?" You shake your head you can feel your legs starting to shake. "How about we learn a little bit about it ok I can make you into a woman baby let you learn how to take a man?"

The puddles in your clit probably weren't going away anytime soon "I would like that." He lets out a low chuckle before picking you up and setting you on the bed. The room was dark and nothing was on but the TV. The bed caved you in and it was so soft it smelled like him. His cologne the musk sent your head into a haze. You reached for his hand just wanting to feel him. "Shh baby I'm right him Im not going anywhere."

The bed shifted in weight when his body hovered over yours. All that was missing from him was his belt it was in his left hand. "Ok princess I'm gonna tie your hands ok are you ok with that."

The belt was cold and had no shortage of pressure with it. He was in complete control. How much of your journal did he read shit or did he just like belts??

"I want the belt S-sam" It was hard to get words out hard to believe this was even happening. Sam's hair looked so fluffy you reached a hand out to grab it but he was so far above you it felt meaningless to do. His eyes were so dark their green hint was.

"What trying to pet me baby" he let out a chuckle before lowering his head. Without another word, he restained your wrist with one hand. His demeanor changed to something more feral. "We'll have time for all that later princess Just let me have this now." Your legs were wrapped around him now struggling to encase his body with them. Your wrists were starting to hurt from the pressure and most of all you could free the bulge pushing into your core. Little mews were coming from your mouth while he was tying the belt. The wetness gathering on his crotch was starting to become noticeable. At first, you could feel his nose on your neck then the moisture from his mouth.

The sucking is painful but blissful at the same time. "I'm sure you won't care if I mark you right babe, I mean people can know that we do this." He grip on your wrist became harder. You could feel his tongue swirling on your neck all you wanted was him in your heat. This was cruel teasing. Looking over to the mirror next to you it was floor-length and took up half the wall you could see the paleness of your skin and a purple and brown spot on your neck with your legs still on his back.

It was a beautiful sight but being fucked into a mattress sounded better right now than teasing. Tightening your legs on him you began to shift your hips up and down the feeling of how big he was you just knew you wouldn't be walking right for days.

In truth Sam knew you were gonna have to rely on him well into the morning carrying you into the bathroom and helping you get up he liked the idea that made him feel like you were his and that hickie on your neck confirmed it. But now you were rutting your hips on his cock. God were you that fucking desperate for release but then again he did tie your hands with a belt.

"Does someone want my clothes off" he dipped two large digits into your clit and began a back-and-forth motion. Your eyes widen and you feel a stretch and a little bit of pain with a moan escaping from your mouth. "So tight, this is the most that's ever been in you huh, maybe I'll be gentle huh." The pace of his fingers was merciless now your back was arcing off the bed . "You said you would be gentle." It's all you could manage to get out he felt mad at you. "After what you wrote about me in that journal little girl gentleness is out of the question and if I didn't know better I'd say you wanted to be treated like a whore babe."

He let out a sigh followed by a low laugh. "Close your eyes I want you to feel me before you see me." At that, your whole body tensed up your eyes closed not because you were following orders but because you were scared of how big his length was his fingers felt like they were tearing your apart you can't even imagine how his cock feels. The sound of the zipper is all you can hear and you can feel your nipples perking up. Sam was at the edge of the bed admiring your body. He murmured something about a beautiful sight while dragging his hand down from your chest to your thigh.

"You are so blessed princess a body like this and you haven't been touched yet, makes me feel so disgusting." He can feel you trembling under his fingers it makes him carnal. The weight of the bed was shifting again all you could do right now was breathe. His large hand met your hip holding you steady "Make as much noise as you want princess let everyone know how happy you are."

You felt a tip being dragged in between your folds gathering your wetness he was leaving beads of precum at your entrance applying more pressure to your hip you felt his length go lower "Breathe baby" and that was it his tip was in and it felt like tearing and stretching was the girth and length. Both his hands grabbed your legs and pulled them up to his shoulders the deeper he went you could feel one very prominent vein all the way down his shaft. You lost control of your legs and he wasn't even fully in yet. "Someone's legs are shaking I see I know I'm big baby but I think you're doing great, you have a little bit more than half left ok."

Sam looked down your cunt was greedy trying to swallow him whole there was even a cute little puddle of wetness under you. You wanted him that badly. So tight he wasn't going to have trouble finishing. Pushing his length in more he could feel you shifting your hips on him again trying to push yourself down. "Greedy little girl, not scared of my cock good." His voice went low again. His hand kept your legs on his shoulders but one shifted to your neck. Sleazy moans escaped from your mouth.

Before you knew it his full length was inserted and you couldn't feel your legs anymore. He let you wrap your legs around him again and that's how you were holding onto him. "Good girl, all mine now yeah."

His grip on your throat got tighter and his thrust started to get faster. "Gonna fill you up so good sweetie, you won't be walking for a good while." Those words only made you more wet. Your mews were uncontrollable now spurring Sam on in a very disgusting way. "I felt so gross wanting this babe, looking at you like this" You could feel your eyes rolling into the back of your head now there was not much you could comprehend. "I had my cock in my hand all the time thinking about you, I could break you, princess." His breath was hot in your ear.

"When I saw you first I knew what I wanted I felt horrible but it was an urge and uncontrollable one I thought maybe I was possessed again or maybe you're just meant to take my cock." All you could give him back were moans in response.

"I'm sorry babe" Your legs were shaking and you were a moaning mess. Hot thick rope of cum coated your insides. "you can open your eyes babe."

[dimity-lawn]

Was there a zombie working in the kitchens of Unseen University, or is this just a general concern? I’m guessing that it actually happened at some point, given how incident prone UU seems to be.

That zombie was Reg Shoe, wasn’t it? Yes, that could happen to any zombie, but it definitely wouldn’t have been Mr. Slant (who seems to be better at keep himself in one piece anyway), it certainly wasn’t Windle Poons, and it doesn’t seem like there are a great deal of zombies in Ankh-Morpork. Reg would be willing to cook, and while it doesn’t seem like he’d work at the university, he might do it for the sake of fighting vitalism. His fingers have fallen off (or been bitten off by Morag) on numerous occasions, and don’t forget this part in Jingo:

3. What’s the story behind that last part? This is kind of how I imagine it: The Dean: *finding a finger at the bottom of the bowl after having consumed a decent portion of the soup* There’s a finger in my soup Rincewind: *screams* (See video)

The Bursar: *says something completely unhinged* The Librarian (knowing full well how the Dean feels about his being an ape): *reaches from several place settings away, picks up the Dean's bowl, and makes sure that the Dean sees him scratch his behind before he uses the same hand to pick the finger out before finally putting the bowl back in front of the Dean*

[profoundbondfanfic]

six hundred sundays (and many more)

six hundred sundays (and many more) by sobsicles (@sobsicles) Rating: Mature Word count: 15.6k

Dean starts falling in love with him on a slow Sunday morning under slanted sunlight that slips through the gaps in the trees. ~~~ "When did it stick for you? When did your six hundred Sundays start?" Dean asks. "It never started," Castiel admits. "It simply never stopped. My love for you is eternal—existing forever, without a beginning or an end." Visually, Castiel's love is a circle. Aurally, it's an echo. Kinesthetically, it's breathing. Overall, it is not fate, and it is not chance; it is choice. He would not choose differently if he could go back and do it again, and that's why he didn't choose differently from the start.

Castiel returns from the Empty after Chuck is defeated and everything is perfect. Or as perfect as he thinks they can be. He has his family, the world is safe, and Dean is still talking to him after his big confession. Castiel's feelings don't have to be a secret anymore, even if they are not reciprocated.

Except... except Castiel thinks Dean's feelings may be changing. He thinks Dean might be falling in love with him. Or maybe it's just wishful thinking. After all, now that the world is not ending every other Thursday, and the Winchesters can take it slow, there's no reason for Dean not to build Castiel a gazebo.

For four Sundays, Dean works on it, and for four Sundays Castiel watches him, but there are a lot of stuff still left unsaid between them. In this beautiful story, Castiel and Dean get the closure they need, and Dean Winchester finally uses his words like a normal-ish human being.

[what-do-1000-swords-look-like]

This might be a hot take but I've gotta get this off my chest:

I have seen so many times in the past two years the point being made by a particular section of the fandom that Sam was the hero of SPN, the "Luke Skywalker" of the series as Kripke himself stated, and that the finale ending made sense for not only Sam getting to live but also for Dean's ending. And in the very same breath, it's mentioned that the show was always about the brothers, no one else, that's what Kripke always wanted, etc., but this argument is always made from a very pro-Sam slanted/skewed anti-ship (and sometimes anti-Dean) point of view without taking into consideration of just how much the story of SPN evolved even before Kripke left the show.

Like say what you will about Sam being the hero of the story, and I'm not going to disagree with you about that being Kripke's original intention because you're right. Sam was the main protagonist; that's clear from the outset of the series. The whole first season is everything being told from Sam's POV. It's evident in every single episode in how each case has resolution thanks to Sam. He is made to be the hero. The whole arc of season 1 is about Sam being dragged back into this world due to his desire for revenge for what happened to Jessica which turns into something more aka Sam is naturally a hunter and he wants to help people/help his family->Dean. It's even Sam in the season finale that chooses a different way compared to John's quest for revenge by choosing Dean/his family over his revenge.

So, yes, you're right when you say in the beginning of the series that Sam was the hero/main protagonist. Absolutely. But what is not being mentioned/realized is that somewhere along the way, during Kripke's era, Dean's own story within the series became just as integral to the main story like Sam's as did their relationship as brothers. Kripke developed the story to include both. They both become essential to the main overhead arc of the entire show. The whole reason John and Mary even got together (through Heaven's intervention as per SPN canon) was to bring about both Sam and Dean's existence. Dean becomes the complement to Sam's role. We find out that Sam is the chosen vessel for Lucifer, and then we find out Dean is the chosen vessel for Michael, which leads to the showdown between Heaven and Hell essentially through the two. Both have a decision to make; both are tapped on the shoulders by both sides (i.e. Cas/Ruby); both are essential to the main plot while having their own separate arcs/journeys. Dean is no longer a side character or even the "Han Solo". His story is developed and we not only see his own hero's journey that he has to go on (when physically separate from Sam for example; going into the future though this is still intertwined with Sam's journey itself; going back in time, etc.) but his own desires, thought processes, relationships (outside of Sam), are also brought into the forefront for his story. Can this happen with side characters? Sure. But that's not what happens here because Kripke not only develops/beefs up Dean's story but also interweaves it with Sam's very carefully, to the point that the show doesn't work without both characters. Hence, Sam is no longer the sole main protagonist.

Which is why, for example, Dean is the one to kill the YED even though Sam had been determined to make YED pay for what happened to Jessica. And Kripke masterfully balances the main plot between the two as the show develops, so much so that we get payoff for Sam's journey (which leads up to Swan Song but I'll get to that in a moment), by fulfilling big plot points such as his killing Lillith and setting Lucifer free. He even still gets the hero's end by choosing to sacrifice himself to save Dean and the world in 5x22. Kripke beautifully takes Sam's original journey and tweaks it in such a way that while Sam had his dad's training and a similar quest for vengeance, he made a different decision and he did that while having much more on his shoulders (literally the weight of the world) than John ever did. And we still get payoff for what was initially set up way back in season 1. We get a close out to the Jessica story line, to Sam's powers story line, all of it, before Kripke dipped out.

And in the same fashion, we also got a closeout to Dean's story line. If he would ever get out of hunting, would he allow Sam to go into that dark night alone, would he be the same as John -- all of it.

So the ending to 5x22 absolutely makes sense. And we get: Dean surviving and going to live a "normal" life & Sam making the sacrifice (as the hero the series started out with) while also somehow surviving & making his way back to his brother. That's Kripke's ending. Now to be fair, Sam making his way back to Dean more likely had to do with them setting up the next season, but ultimately he wasn't dead after throwing himself and Michael into the pit.

Then in the later seasons, which some fans like to exclude or dismiss (but it's still part of Sam and Dean's official story), their stories were still integral to the main story but they had also evolved to include other characters (such as Cas, Jody, Donna, etc) and they had developed over the next ten years. So when looking at the series as a whole, Dean and Sam's endings in the series finale do not make sense. Kripke already got his ending in 5x22 and the show moved past that, and quickly set out to dismantle it in 6x01. This theme continued and the idea of free will became the center stage even more than it had in the first five seasons. By the time the last season rolled around, Dean and Sam had different desires, their stories had not only been completely intertwined to make both of them the main protagonists but both the heroes, and how their ends/hunting boots were hung up in the end would both matter.

So if you watched all of the seasons, 15x20 doesn't make sense. Because Dean and Sam wanted very different things by that point, they had both built relationships with other characters (Cas and Jack were the biggest ones but those two were not the only ones), and their story had effectively changed.

And if you didn't watch any of the later seasons (or you dismiss it), 15x20 still doesn't make sense because this wasn't the ending Kripke had for the seasons 1-5 Sam and Dean. If anything, it felt like it could have been 1x02 instead of the Wendigo episode, ending Dean and Sam's story in two short episodes with nothing in between.

That does not make sense.

Imagine we were discussing the show Buffy the Vampire Slayer. We all know how that ended (I'm talking TV only, not the comics). Buffy saved the world, she survived (finally!), and she was free from Sunnydale. Now imagine she had been killed off. Not only would it feel redundant but it wouldn't feel like a true ending for the story told over the past 7 seasons. What would have been the point of her being resurrected in season 6 then? What would have been the point of her relationship with Spike, Dawn, and the others? Could Joss Whedon have made it into another hero's sacrifice (instead of Spike doing the heroic/redeeming sacrifice), that she got Dawn, Willow, Xander, and the other Slayers ready to defend the world that she would die saving? Sure. But again, when you compare that ending to her story, it doesn't really make sense. There is no payoff, for the viewers or for the character of Buffy. She had earned that ending, the freedom from the Hellmouth and from the burden of being alone as the only Slayer (aka Chosen One). Which is why we get that great shot in the end:

Willow: "Yeah, the First is scrunched so...what do you think we should do, Buffy?"

Faith: "Yeah, you're not the one and only Chosen anymore. Just got to live like a person. How's that feel?"

Dawn: "Yeah, Buffy, what are we going to do now?"

The hero, who had already made the hero's sacrifice more than once, finally earned the ending that she wanted: freedom and the ability to choose to live her life for herself. The burden of being The Slayer had been removed and spread out to others (effectively building a network, hold that thought for a minute), she was no longer alone, she had defeated the Big Bad (which was effectively the Hellmouth since it kept creating/calling to these other Big Bads she faced over the years as well as the monsters she started out fighting), she might have more to face in the future, but it's up to her now what she wants to do. She is given the choice aka free will and that's what she earned after everything she had gone through during the duration of the show.

That's an ending.

This isn't:

Death wasn't supposed to be their ending. While some might be able to turn to you and say 'but they end up in Heaven together, they're at peace', that doesn't make it a payoff ending, for the viewers (early seasons only or all seasons) or for the characters of Sam and Dean. That's not effective storytelling. Neither ending was heroic or earned.

Dean dying, while again wouldn't make sense given the story, could have been painted as heroic if it happened during the battle with Chuck for example. Their final battle with the ultimate Big Bad. Even though they both died heroically quite a few times before this, it could have been done and while ultimately disappointing, it could have been the hero's end for Dean (just like Sam's end in 5x22 was the hero's end for him). This death wasn't heroic; instead it was from vampire stunt guy #4 who apparently juiced before that scene getting an upper hand on the hero and impaling him on a piece of sharp rebar. During a milk run hunt. Now imagine if that were Sam. Ask these people who think that by the end of the series that Sam was the only hero, ask them if that happened to Sam instead, would they still be praising the finale? Or imagine that was Buffy. That she survived like she does, the Hellmouth in Sunnydale was finally gone, only to be killed by a random forgettable vampire who she had faced off with in the first season and got away, only to suddenly return and take the hero out, thus negating the payoff/earned ending she and the viewers got. Doesn't make sense, right?

Now imagine if say Dawn was killed off in a similar way (though tbf Dawn's role was not the same as Dean's in the story) or during the battle, and we see Buffy living her life through the years, getting out of slaying, having a family which consists of a daughter she names Dawn, wearing her own Party City wig and looking at a picture of Dawn all teary-eyed, dying in her sleep as an old lady, and then reuniting with her in Heaven. It doesn't work. Not only because Dawn had a very different role in the show when it came to the main story but also because it DOESN'T WORK. What kind of hero's end is that? What payoff is that? Is it great that Sam gets to choose to get out of hunting and have a family? Sure. But that's not where his story was headed, in later seasons, or even during Kripke's era.

Going back to the network thing I mentioned with Buffy, Sam had done that. Not only were there strong hints of leader!Sam near the end of the series, but he had effectively built a network of hunters for a time until Alt!Michael killed them all. But he and Dean still had a network going through Jody, Donna, Claire, even Jack until he turned God!Jack. Wayward Sisters might not have taken off when it first aired but the point was made: a hunter network still existed. And these characters, this network, even though not shown in the finale, still survived no matter what happened with Sam and Dean in the end. Why is this important? Because not only does it extend the hunting universe, but it also removes the burden from the heroes' shoulders. So they could have gotten out of hunting if they wanted to, just like Buffy could have laid down her axe (or stake). The heroes had earned it.

So for Dean to die on a random hunt and for those few to say that it was being foreshadowed this whole time with Dean's quotes (from before season 15 btw) and a proper ending to his story...they really don't know what show they were watching or how storytelling works in general. Because when they say that, they negate Dean's whole arc of season 15 (while also negating his whole series arc). Dean was angry in the beginning of the season because he thought not only had his free will been taken from him, but also because he thought he hadn't had any free will this whole time. There's a reason why he says what he says to Cas in 15x02. There's a reason why he was so gung ho on letting Jack sacrifice himself, and only once once Sam and Chuck say what they say in 15x17 does Dean make a different choice: his family (and the world) vs his own desire (his idea of free will, not fully realizing that he's actually utilizing it by making that choice). It's only when he chooses not to kill Chuck in 15x19 that he is completely self-aware and that he is using his free will to make a choice. A choice that affects how the Big Bad is ended/defeated. "That's not who I am."

He was given the hero's choice and he made it. And his decision was the right one that had payoff from not only the events in 15x17 and 15x18 but for his overall story. That's why what Cas says to him in 15x18 about who he is as a character was so important. It set Dean up to not only have self-realization but to also act upon it. Think about how many times over the years Sam and other characters have told Dean this about himself but he never really believed it. Why? Because he hadn't reached that part of his journey yet. Because he hadn't reached the end of it yet. So it makes perfect sense how 15x17, 15x18, and 15x19 play out. This is the appropriate ending battle for not only Dean but Sam as well:

This was the hero's sacrifice they made. They could have been killed from Chuck beating on them as he did. He could have chosen to snap his fingers at any point. They made the sacrifice in order to get Jack the time and energy he needed to power up to overpower Chuck. And they never stayed down no matter the pain, no matter the potential of their deaths at Chuck's hand. They refused to give it up. This is why Sam helps Dean back up and why they're laughing/smiling. Because they know that no matter what happens to them, Jack/the world is going to win. "Why are you smiling?" "Because...you lose." And their sacrifice not only hands victory over to the new generation aka Jack but also instates the new God who replaces Chuck aka The Big Bad of the entire series. EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS SCREAMS HERO.

So it's not only payoff for Jack's story (as well as Chuck's) but also for Sam and Dean's. And both brothers were the heroes. Which is why Sam tells Chuck that he loses and Dean tells him that they won. Why both of them tell Chuck about their plan that they formed together (and Jack doesn't say a word). Which is why Chuck says he's going to die at both of their hands, both Sam and Dean look at each other, and then Dean makes the choice not to kill Chuck. "See, that's not who I am. That's not who we are." Because they both were the heroes and main protagonists of the series. Something that Kripe had set up long before 5x22.

"What kind of an ending is this?" One the heroes had earned. Chuck as the Big Bad wanted violence and death, an ending he would be entertained by. And even for an ending he hadn't imagined for himself (where he loses), he still expected a grisly death at the hands of the heroes. Had either Winchester done that, then Chuck would have gotten what he wanted and it wouldn't be the heroes' end that they had earned.

This was the ending that Sam and Dean earned:

The choice to continue on if they wanted or to get out of hunting for good. To go see Jody, Donna, and the girls, or go get Cas out of The Empty, or go on milk run hunts for a while, or even to go to a freaking baseball game (screw you, John!); the point is it was their choice. That's what they had earned by the end of the series.

The ending that Chuck earned was not only the worst he could imagine but it was punishment for everything he had done. Both brothers say as much:

Sam: "I think it's the ending where you're just like us. And like all the other humans you forgot about."

Dean: "It's the ending where you grow old, you get sick, and you just die."

Sam: "And no one cares. And no one remembers you. You're just forgotten."

This was not the heroes' ending or the ending both characters had earned/deserved:

This was:

For the ones who insist that Dean's sacrifice was the right ending for his story and that he got a new Heaven as a reward are incorrect. Heaven wasn't what Dean wanted, not before he got what he earned.

For the one who insist that Sam's ending was right for his story and that he got to have a family and choose to get out of hunting as a reward are incorrect. Sam wanted Dean to be a part of that life (however it looked) and he had no desire to get out of hunting by the time the series came to an end.

15x20 is not the right ending for either Winchester.

And for those who say that Dean hadn't become one of the heroes in the series or that the finale was right because Sam was the sole main protagonist by the end (or even Kripke's ending in 5x22) clearly weren't paying attention. Not only did Sam not get the heroes' end or the end he wanted and earned, but neither did Dean who had been developed into the other main protagonist of the series, by the series creator himself before he left the show.

Bonus:

15x20 was not their real finale and here's how you know:

Next shot (after cutting to black):

Nothing after it.

SPN:

Next shot (after fading to black):

And then:

(while still in costume, the two leads thanking the fans and then the crew/bridge drone shot complete with show music)

Compare this to how 15x19 ended as well. We get the montage, the drive off shot, and then the scene from 1x01 of Sam shutting the trunk of the Impala as Dean watches. Then cuts to black.

That's their finale.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

To Soothe the Savage Beast

Pairing: Dean x Y/N

Warnings/Explicit 18+: None. All fluff and some kissing.

Word Count: 704

A/N: Approppos of nothing, here is a grumpy!dean drabble. I was seeing lots of grumpy!dean on my dash, and I wanted to kiss his grumpiness better, so this came into my head!! Hope it makes you smile! I've barely edited it, so it might be crap. Sorry! 😁

The beautiful dividers both below and at the bottom were created by @talesmaniac89

"God damn! Son of a bitch!"

Y/N heard Dean's resounding yell echo through the bunker, urging her to seek him out and try to fix things for him.

She knew he was in a rotten mood.

He'd woken up in a rotten mood and continued in that same rotten mood all morning and now into the afternoon.

The boys had come home the day before, having finally finished their latest, very long, drawn-out hunt. They'd take out the wraith that had been victimizing a retirement community but not without major issues.

One elderly man had been killed before the boys got onto the case, but thankfully no one else had been lost. But they'd been met with problems at every turn during the hunt - law enforcement getting after them, no one in the community willing to talk about what they were seeing.

But probably most frustrating of all, the wraith had stolen Baby in an attempted get away and ended up smashing her into a street light.

Dean had woken up this morning with one driving mission - fix his Baby.

But from what Y/N had seen of him so far that day - just angrily stalking back and forth from the bunker to the garage, muttering curses and grumpily turning down her offer to make him lunch - the car repair was NOT going well.

She wandered into the garage just as Dean swore again and kicked his big, heavy tool box that was sitting beside Baby's left front tire.

Then he swore louder because of his throbbing toes.

Y/N walked up behind him. "Hey, sweetie, what's wrong?"

Dean swiveled to face her, his beautiful face just a thundercloud of anger and frustration.

"Everything!" He shouted. "Fucking everything is wrong!"

He crossed his arms over his chest, and an actual growl came up from deep in his throat.

"God damn wraith threw out the alignment completely when he smashed it into that pole! And I'm trying to fix it, but Baby is just fighting me every step of the way!"

He scowled angrily down at his beloved Impala, letting her know he was less than impressed.

"And then Sam -"

Before he could explain what Sam had done to piss him off, Y/N reached up on tiptoes to plant a hard, but short, kiss on his downturned mouth.

When she pulled away, Dean was quiet for a moment from the surprise interruption. But he was soon continuing on.

"No, Y/N listen, Sam left over an hour ago to pick up the right size wrenches I need because, despite the fact that I know I always put them back, every time, somehow whatever size wrench I need is always the one that I'm missing. But it's ridiculous cause the hardware store is barely twenty minutes away, but Sam is-"

He was cut off again by Y/N; this time she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him longer. As soon as she let go though, the scowl was back and he took a deep breath to continue his tirade.

So finally she pulled his mouth down to hers and reached deep inside, sucking on his tongue, and slanting her mouth over his again and again until finally she could feel the tension in his body ease. Then she pulled back and smiled happily up at him.

"What ARE you doing?" Dean asked his voice laced with desire and a bit of confusion now, instead of anger.

Y/N placed one more tiny, swift, kiss on his lips. "Making you feel better. Is it working?"

Dean thought for a minute and then put on a faux scowl. But his eyes were teasing as he shook his head.

"Nope. Still grumpy. Better try again."

She grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the Impala.

"Well, how about we give Baby some time to think about her attitude, and give Sam time to find his way back from being lost in the hardware store. Our bed is all made, and just waiting for us to mess it up again."

Dean nodded and followed along docilely, a small smile replacing the angry little dimples on his face.

Y/N knew just how to make his day better.

1 - Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays.

@lyarr24

@siospins2

@impalaslytherin

@akshi8278

@maggiegirl17

@candy-coated-misery0731

@nt-multi-fandom

@slytherinlyn314

@globetrotter28

@jensensgirl

@perpetualabsurdity

@tristanrosspada-ackles

@djs8891

@muhahaha303

@kayyay1219

@emily-winchester

@recoveringpastaaddict

2 - Dean Winchester Fics Only.

@saikosheadcanons

@lgranger67

@carryonwaywardgirl

3 - Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.)

@sunshineandwings86

@kazsrm67

@sexyvixen7

4 - Everything (includes fan vid/DOOL edits as well)

@unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men

@awkward-and-indecisive

@maliburenee

@supernatural4life2022

@spn730015

@b3autyfuldisast3r

@kickingitwithkirk

@waywardbaby

@foxyjwls007

@deanwanddamons

@deandreamernp

@deanwithscissors

@myloversgone

@snowlovespie

@leigh70

@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

@fangirlxwritesx67

@charred-angelwings

@hopefuldreamers-world

@mysherlock221b

@jensensgotyoudean

@stixnstripesworld

@thoughts-and-funnies

@magssteenkamp

@norman1967

@princessmisery666

@eevvvaa

@mishkatelwarriorgoddess

@deepsketchsupernaturalcowboy

@b-i-t-c-h-i-e

@twirpbunwarrior

@mysweetlittledesire

@waynes-multiverse

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@bernasaurus

@jensenslady79

@courtn92

@avanatural

@ellie-andthemachine

[rainydawgradioblog]

Interview with Samba Jean-Baptiste

The other day I came across an article about AI bots mass-releasing auto-generated music on Spotify under different names. A concept as democratic as “unfettered access to music by way of streaming services” was bound to be corrupted by bad actors. Artists are consigned to grueling tour schedules in order to make a living because streaming pays them in Monopoly money. Pitchfork is gone and the writing is on the wall for Bandcamp, because curation is now being handled by algorithms. It’s important to keep in mind that any artist releasing music today has to navigate a culture in which there’s more out there than ever before, it's all at the tip of one’s  fingers, and everything except for the music itself is worse than it used to be. 

The topic of how the internet has shaped music came up frequently in my discussion with Samba Jean-Baptiste, an independent artist out of Brooklyn. I discovered his work after seeing Dean Blunt’s music video to “Felony” (his best song? I’m ready to make the argument), and the Algorithm decided I might like a video titled “talk / pleasure.” Behind a camera that might be a flip phone, somone offers Jean-Baptiste directions: “Wait, look off that way, and start the song. Then just start doing your shit.” The music plays and we hear Samba’s subdued voice over acoustic guitar strumming. He crosses a wide urban boulevard. All of it is easy and unforced. 

“Talk / Pleasure” was released on Cardinal, a project that’s difficult to categorize and beautiful and disarming. Jean-Baptiste chiefly uses acoustic guitar and his voice to create stripped-back art pop, as if the Young Marble Giants grew up listening to Stereolab instead of Lou Reed. The relationship between skilled yet raw guitar playing and more attuned peripheral production toes a line between an open mic performance and sound leaking from someone else’s headphones. There’s some really incredible interplay between organic and auto tuned vocals on “Windows.” The string and warped piano accompaniments on “A Wish Slanted” perfectly compliment Jean-Baptiste’s rhythmic strumming. It seems like he’s drawing from so much, because he’s had access to (and has seeked out) so much. The internet has given us windows into every corner of musical expression imaginable. If you’re an artist, how do you reckon with that, how does it find its way into your art? I didn’t want to put words in Jean-Baptiste’s mouth, so I reached out to see if he’d be interested in an interview for the Blawg. 

He was kind enough to agree back in early December; we spoke over the phone for about 40 minutes. I think he was playing Dave Bixby in the background. In addition to the internet’s impact on the music landscape, he touched on song-writing, looping, and Veeze. Hope you all enjoy it. Please, check out Cardinal on Spotify, Apple Music, Youtube, and Bandcamp (before it’s subscription based).

Can you tell me a little about yourself? 

Yeah, I’m 22, about to be 23, I live in Bedstuy, Brooklyn, I cook at a Japanese Breakfast restaurant that’s also in Brooklyn. That’s kinda what I do four days a week. I grew up in Massachusetts playing classical music, me and my sister, I played Cello, my sister played violin and we grew up playing in the Boston Symphony Orchestra. That’s where I gained a lot of interest in music, because when I wasn’t playing cello, everyone would be showing off like, what pop song [they] could play on the piano, and from there everything trailed into, you know, writing a little song about a crush or something when I was a kid. 

My family is from Haiti. That’s important to me. In middle school I used to just make beats so I was really into dubstep and a bunch of stuff on youtube. I was always big on youtube, listening to people make beats at home, and then soundcloud blew up, which gave so much access to random nooks and crannies to the country and world for that matter. Got into songwriting a little bit. Used to make a lot of different sounding stuff to now. Picked up guitar, somehow, and I guess that landed me to where I’m at now. 

Songs like “Better Now” from Cardinal feature a lot of looping. Do you find that to be a big part of your process? 

It’s funny because looping, from making beats in middle school, looping is such a big part of it. You make something, you loop it, you progress from there. But by the time I realized I could be playing actual instruments in my recordings, I still had that mentality. I’ll record something and think: “this part is great, I’m just gonna loop it.” And it doesn’t feel unethical. Cause for me, for a long time, looping other people’s music was like, “you’re going to hell, you’re not making music” but somehow my eyes have opened up and my ears have opened up to so many new ways of sound creation, rather than seeing it like “you have to create from the sound up like you’re fucking Beethoven.” You can hear something and make something out of that and that’s ok. It’s not yours, it's everyone’s. 

Looping is really interesting too because everytime you hear something or see something you can see something new about it. There’s albums I’ve listened to kajillions of times and it’s like I’m learning something new about it every listen. The same thing can happen with a simple loop, it’ll just be new information, newly perceived information each time. So yeah loops are super important to me. 

When you’re writing a song, do you have an idea of what you want the finished product to be, or does it evolve naturally over the course of the entire process?

Definitely the latter. That’s funny I was talking to my dad *today* that when I make songs, or work on an idea, I have to like make the whole song, just so that when I go back to these drafts, I can see the full blueprint. [...] It’s definitely a process. If I write a song in one sitting, I’ll kinda just… show a friend. That’s not the stuff I like releasing. 

How did Cardinal become more acoustic than your previous album, Pandora? 

It wasn’t so much a conscious decision to be like, I have to be different from the last record, but it was a conscious decision in my process. Because Pandora was made while I was still primarily recording through my laptop, and like, there’s guitar on there, but it’s all pitched up, and my voice isn’t in my natural cadence. But in the same way I realized I could use my instruments and play them in my recordings, I was like damn. That feels natural. I can also just sing in my natural low voice, I don’t have to be reaching for something that I’m not. So it sort of just trailed in that direction naturally. 

I was wondering if playing the cello made picking up guitar easier, or otherwise informs your guitar playing? You said you “stumbled on guitar,” which sounds like a bigger undertaking than you make it out to be. 

Yeah, picking up guitar was pretty simple for me because of that knowledge, but like, there’s six strings on a guitar [compared to cello’s four], so I’ve found new ways to approach an instrument, because there’s a learning curve there. A lot of my songs, if you listen to them, it’s all the same chords, because I only know so much, and sometimes I’m fucking lazy and I know certain chords and they make me feel good enough. 

Also it's funny because some songs are written on different guitars. “I Could Have Cried” was written on a guitar with five strings (the high E is gone) because my roommate didn’t finish stringing it. The other one I got in London, that one plays “Talk/Pleasure” and “A Wish Slanted” and it has four strings because two of them snapped. Each weird situation lends itself to a new creation, which is like a huge part of my process anyway. Error is so acceptable, if not sought out. 

The stream of consciousness of it? Less premeditated? 

Right. There’s a mix too though. I love when records have noise added after cause that’s real. You can only listen to so much perfect, cookie cutter stuff.

When you were making Cardinal, were there any major songs or artists that you took inspiration from? 

Nah I had no influences, I came up with this shit. I’m playing, of course, of course, there’s so many. I feel like a lot of people are finding my music through like Dean Blunt youtube wormhole, and he’s for sure one of my big influences, like all my influences are like 30+ year old black people doing their thing. But the main influence is music that sounds like wind, water, grass, and that all relates to guitar.

I wish I had a list of my influences, cause on this record there’s a lot you know? I had a lot of people in my life showing me new things, because I’m so closed minded often. And I like to try to surround myself with people that will show me something new. A lot of inspiration is what’s new to me. 

I think wind, water, grass sums it up great. Wrapping up, would you have any recommendations for me and the good people of Rainy Dawg Radio as a whole? Movies, music, books, etc?

Hell yeah. I just finished this book called Your Love is Not Good, by Johanna Hedver… Movies? I’m still learning about movies. Two or three things I know about her. I’m into Jean Luc Godard, that slice of life stuff where nothing happens, cause it’s just like looping music to me. Music? I’ll just give you what I’ve been into recently, cause I have huge influences but they’re probably everybody’s. I’ve been listening to this song called “Tea in Bed” by Blessed and Blushing. That shit’s incredible. I’ve been listening to this song called “Everybody Knows” by Glucose. I’ve been listening to a Serge Gainsbourg record, The History of Melody Nelson. I’ve been listening to Veeze, you know, Ganger. There’s so much shit. There’s so much out there. Michael White is this great jazz violinist, I’d definitely recommend him.  Forma Norte, that guy’s incredible.

Who’s that, Forma Norte? 

Yeah, you know what’s funny is I found him on my “related artists,” online, and sometimes I find stuff I really hate through that. But sometimes I think “damn this guy’s awesome, how’s he related to me?” 

It’s so interesting to hear an artist’s perspective of their “fans also like” on Spotify. 

That first one I said, Tea in Bed by Blessed and Blushing, is just blowing my mind recently. I’m like, “who is sitting down and making this shit?,” it’s so good. And that’s what’s crazy is there’s so much music now, it’s like, is there even a point in trying to make a career out of this? No. I don’t think so. Which I think is lending itself to the best music ever, cause people are like “there’s no fucking way I’m gonna make a career out of this, I might as well just make what I want, whatever I want.” 

You used to have to deal with the label, but now everything is just, “yeah go for it.”

It’s such a blessed time in that regard, but at the same time… let me chill on that. Let’s say, Marvin Gaye, “I Want You”? We’re not getting that right now. And that’s no hate to right now.  But it’s just like that was a whole different way of living, thinking, moving, breathing you know. It’s just a whole different way of recording. 

But we’re so blessed to be able to do exactly what we want without the idea of needing to make money off it. Obviously it would be nice. But it’s unlikely so people are just making cool shit. And I’m really thankful for that. 

You can find Samba Jean-Baptiste on Instagram here and YouTube here. Once again, listen to Cardinal any way you get your music. 

[let-your-chaos-explode]

Sub Rosa

Sequel to "Behind Closed Doors."

You definitely don't have to read that one to enjoy this one. Readers beware, shameless smut in this one. Enjoy the story!

Sub Rosa

Clarissa Dovey paced nervously in front of the ornate vanity in her bathroom. She stopped to inspect her makeup once more and the pacing continued. Back and forth. A brief pause to pin an errant curl. More pacing. 

What if she didn’t show up? 

What if she has made a total fool of herself? 

What if this was all a huge mistake and she had just ruined the most important thing in her life? 

Dovey halted once more and grasped the edges of the porcelain sink. She hung her head and closed her eyes. Inhaling a shaky, deep breath, she smoothed down the creamy satin of her robe. 

‘Get yourself together! This is ridiculous.’

The Good Dean did one more mirror check before resuming her pacing in front of the bedroom door. She jerked violently in response to a singular, sharp knock against the solid oak. 

Her heart squeezed and twisted into a new, unidentifiable shape before it soared. She felt like a poor imitation of a balloon as it floated away. Where was the string to ground her? 

“Listen, Dove, I’m sorry I’m late!” Lady Lesso’s muffled voice called through the door. 

Clarissa did not let her finish. She threw open the door and yanked the woman in without so much as a “hello.” 

Lesso stumbled through the door, cane clattering to her feet, before she was pushed roughly onto the bed. She blinked dazedly.

Clarissa stood in front of her, clad in a short satin robe with her blond curls piled loosely atop her head. Warm light from the setting sun slanted through the curtains of the window and Lesso was certain that the woman was not a fairy godmother, but an angel. 

“I think I could get used to the manhandling.” She smirked up at her. 

But Dovey’s nerves finally got the better of her. Clarissa shifted slightly from foot to foot and crossed her arms protectively over her chest. Leonora’s eyebrows furrowed as she took in the woman’s body language. 

“What’s wrong?” Lesso asked simply. 

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Dovey blurted. 

A deep blush heated her cheeks and extended down into the V of her robe as she bit her lip. Lesso wanted to chase the color with her tongue. 

“Are you sure you want me?” Clarissa added quietly. 

Leonora sucked in a breath through her teeth and blew it out slowly. She flattened her palms against her thighs to keep her hands from reaching out and misbehaving. 

“Clarissa, I believe I have made my feelings on the matter explicit.” She said, swallowing thickly. 

Dovey took another step forward. Her hands fiddled with the tie at her waist and Lesso bit down hard on the lateral edges of her tongue. 

“Tell me again. One more time.” Dovey whispered. “Please.”

Her doe eyes were large and pleading. 

“I want nothing more than to be here with you. Only ever you.” Leonora said firmly. “Is this what you want?”

“Lesso, I have wanted this for so long and I never thought it possible.” She laughed through a sob. 

“Leonora.” Lesso reminded her. “And if you don’t come over here and finish what you started, you’d be the most Evil person to bless this godforsaken realm.” 

She did not reach out. She kept her hands achingly still against her trembling thighs. If this was happening, Clarissa needed to be in control…to make the first move. She refused to ruin this for herself. 

Leonora watched as all the confidence returned to her little Dove. The blonde’s posture straightened, bringing Lesso’s attention to the forward thrust of her chest. She could see the cream-colored lace of Clarissa’s matching bra peeking through under the edge of her satin robe. Her petite hands had stopped their fiddling and tugged firmly on the sash, allowing the covering to fall away. Leonora’s eyes darkened as she took in her freshly unwrapped present. 

Clarissa stood proudly in a sheer, lace-lined, floral balconette bra and matching panty set. Lesso choked back a moan and clenched her thighs together at the throb of need making itself known at her center. 

“I’m all yours.” Clarissa invited huskily, raising her arms in display. 

The verbal consent was all it took for Lesso’s self-control to finally snap. She gripped the enchanting woman before her by the waist and pulled her down to straddle her lap once more. Leonora muffled Dovey’s startled gasp with a bruising kiss. Her fingers, finally granted the freedom from their self-imposed restraint, buried themselves into Clarissa’s impossibly soft, blonde curls and tugged loose every pin. She broke the kiss only to gaze adoringly at the dream in front of her. Lesso combed through the waterfall of silken, white-gold and twirled perfect ringlets around her fingers. 

“I’ve always wanted to do that.” Leonora admitted softly. 

“Kiss me or play with my hair?” Clarissa asked with a breathy laugh. 

“Both.” She answered, stealing another languid kiss. “I want to do this right, Dove.”

Clarissa cradled the woman’s face in her hands gently. A warm smile illuminated her face and she kissed her once more, endeavoring to pour the depth of her feelings into the connection. 

Leonora’s hands found purchase on the smooth expanse of Clarissa’s thighs and pulled her closer, swallowing the moan of pleasure that erupted from the godmother’s lips. Her fingers dug into the warm flesh with a firm squeeze before traveling on. They slid over her full hips, skimmed over a slim waist, and came to rest just under the curves of her breasts. 

Dovey’s warm hands covered Lesso’s and guided them impatiently up to cup her breasts. Leonora graciously took the hint and shifted her attention. Her tongue and teeth began a purposeful descent from Clarissa’s swollen lips, down her neck, to the swell of her chest before attaching wetly to her nipple through the sheer fabric of the balconette. Dovey’s sighs spurned her on. A clever hand reached behind and deftly released the hooks of the offending material. Lesso released Clarissa’s nipple only to discard the bra and re-attach to the neglected side. She grazed her teeth against the hardened bud and relished in the groan she earned in response. 

Clarissa’s prettily painted nails dug into Leonora’s shoulders through the crispness of her white shirt before yanking at her necktie. 

“Take it off.” The Good Dean commanded roughly. 

“Yes, Ma’am!” Lesso acquiesced against Dovey’s flushed chest, 

Lesso pulled the tie pin and in one swift motion, slid the tie from around her neck. Clarissa did not wait for further delay. Without hesitation, she yanked the white shirt from Leonora’s slacks and ripped it open from the middle, scattering white buttons across the floor. 

“Is this payback for the dress?” Lesso asked with a singular raised brow. 

“Maybe I’m just tired of waiting.” Clarissa said sweetly. 

Dovey trailed a glowing finger from the hollow of Lesso’s throat down and cut through the simple black bra, shoving the clothing away mercilessly. She flattened her palms against her chest and pushed her down, back flat against the soft bed underneath her. The Dean of Evil choked down a surprised yelp and gaped at the assertiveness the usually docile woman was displaying. The view from below, however, was divine. 

Clarissa settled her weight on Leonora’s hips and sighed contentedly. “You are so beautiful.”

Embarrassment fluttered in Lesso’s gut and she resisted the sudden urge to cover herself. Beautiful was not a word she ever associated with herself. Freckles and blemishes stood out in asymmetrical, dark contrast on her skin. And the scars…

“Don’t do that.” Clarissa’s whisper interrupted the trainwreck of Lesso’s thoughts. “Not here. Nora, you are so beautiful.”

Clarissa’s hands tenderly caressed Leonora’s cheek before tracing unidentifiable swirls down her torso. She mirrored Lesso’s earlier attention to pebbled nipples, sucking and kneading. But she didn’t linger. She slid down the length of her body, trailing wet kisses in her wake until she arrived at the hem of the Evil Dean’s slacks. Dovey’s eyes met Lesso’s in an unspoken request for permission. Leonora nodded vigorously, red curls wildly flying. 

In this endeavor, Clarissa finally slowed. Nimble fingers easily popped the button and she slowly slipped them down Leonora’s legs, never once breaking eye contact. 

“If we do this, there’s no going back.” Dovey warned, fingers teasing the edge of Lesso’s simple black panties. 

Leonora raised herself up on her elbows and caught the other woman’s eye. 

“Rissa, I never want to go back to the way it was before.” She said firmly. “Not when I know this is what is on the other side. When I know what your lips taste like…or how smooth your skin is…or what it feels like when you look at me like that.”

Clarissa bit her lip to prevent its trembling. 

“So if you don’t get on with it and fuck me right now, i’m going to lose it.”

She needed no further encouragement. She flung Lesso’s panties over her shoulder and curled her arms around milky thighs. She suckled teasingly against the crease of where thigh met hip and nuzzled at the small nest of cherry curls, inhaling her scent. Her own arousal spiked at the discovery of how ready Leonora was for her. Clarissa boldly swiped the flat of her tongue from base to peak, curling the tip deftly as she reached Lesso’s clit. She let go a low hum and dove back in for more. She alternated between full, deep licks and intense sucking, driving Leonora so close to the edge in record time. 

Lesso’s hands fisted in the sheets and she arched her back into the pleasure. 

“You’ve done this before.” She panted.

Clarissa tugged her closer and hummed once more. The vibrations and firm thrusts of her tongue sent Leonora careening towards the edge of the cliff. 

“Clarissa,” Lesso warned tightly. “Rissa, I’m right there.”

Dovey retreated only to apply pressure to Leonora’s pulsing clit with her thumb and deep strokes of her tongue. Leonora grit her teeth and came with a restrained cry and a shuddering breath. Clarissa lovingly caressed her thighs as she came down from her high. Cheeks painted a bright pink and eyes glazed, Lesso admired the sight of Dovey between her legs. 

“My turn.” She husked, flipping Clarissa onto her back with much more athleticism than the good fairy was expecting. 

Lesso trapped her hands above her head in a firm but gentle grasp. She captured the woman’s lips in another sensual kiss, moaning at the taste of herself that lingered there. With a quick nip to Dovey’s bottom lip, she ground her hips down to find more pressure. She could feel Clarissa arch up into her, brushing their breasts together and chasing any friction she could get to her throbbing core. 

“Tsk.” Leonora warned. “Do you like to be in control, little Dove?”

Clarissa keened underneath her and bucked again. 

“I let you have your fun. But now, I’m going to show you how good it can feel to lose control.” 

Lesso dove in and sucked harshly at the fluttering pulse point of Dovey’s neck. With a wet pop, she released the skin and soothed the already forming bruise with her tongue. With a glowing finger, her neck tie was summoned off the floor and secured Clarissa’s hands above her head. 

“Now isn’t that a pretty sight?” Lesso crooned. 

She hooked her fingers around Dovey’s sheer panties and dragged them slowly down her toned legs, touch light enough to tickle. Lesso grinned wolfishly at the shudder that wracked Clarissa’s frame. 

“Lesso, touch me already!” Dovey growled. 

Lady Lesso wagged her finger and tutted. “Not yet, love. Patience, after all, is a virtue.” 

Leonora used the opportunity to explore every inch offered to her. She listened to every hitch in breath and committed the sounds of Clarissa’s pleasured moans to memory. Head to toe, she learned what made the Good Dean shiver and thrum: a soft tug to an earlobe with her teeth, a wet suck to the inside of a wrist, a fleeting touch to the back of her knees, and a swirl of the tongue into her navel. 

By the end of Lesso’s teasing, Dovey was wound so tight she thought she would snap. 

“I don’t think I can take anymore!” Clarissa cried. “I need you inside me, right now!”

Lesso climbed atop her lover and captured a nipple into the warm cavern of her mouth. Feeling indulgent, she reached down and swiped a finger through Clarissa’s dripping folds. Using the weight of her body, she held the frenzied woman in place as she bucked up into Lesso’s hand. With one last hard suck, she released Dovey’s breast with a pop. 

“What do you want, Rissa?” She asked as she drew lazy circles around Dovey’s nub. 

“Fuck me, Lesso!” Clarissa begged wildly. 

The redhead pulled away and hummed. “Ask me nicely.”

“Please!”

Her finger swirled once more and dipped shallowly into Clarissa’s dripping entrance. With her other hand, she grasped the woman’s chin lightly to catch her eyes. 

“Say my name.” She asked, brushing her nose against Dovey’s lovingly. 

“Leonora, please.” Clarissa crooned. “Please make love to me!”

Leonora slid two fingers into Clarissa’s slick heat with ease and chased her sigh of relief with another kiss. She set a punishing pace that had the woman beneath her writhing in bliss. She slowed to add a third finger and slid down her glistening body to throw a thigh over her shoulder. Eagerly, she began to attack her engorged pearl with her tongue as she drove her fingers in to the knuckles. The fairy godmother was musky and sweet, an addicting combination Leonora didn’t think she would ever tire of. She slung an arm over Clarissa’s hips to hold her steady as her bucking became erratic. 

“Nora, don’t stop!” 

Spurned on, she redoubled her intensity despite the burning ache in her wrist. She curled her fingers deep inside Clarissa and stroked against the rough patch inside her, sucking furiously on her clit. She was rewarded with the tightening of Clarissa’s muscles, pulling her impossibly closer as her whole body stiffened. Erratic fluttering of her inner walls danced along Leonora’s fingers and the warm wetness exploded on her tongue. Unlike Lesso, Dovey screamed her release and it was music to Leonora’s ears. She continued her thrusts as Clarissa rode through the aftershocks of her orgasm and slowed only as the woman collapsed into the bed. 

And with a smug smirk, she licked each of her fingers clean. 

Leonora untied the still-trembling woman and lay next to her, reaching out to play with the mussed blonde curls that fanned out on the pillow. Clarissa caught her breath and smiled brightly as she intertwined their fingers together. She brought their joined hands to her lips and kissed the back of Leonora’s hand before letting them rest over her racing heart. 

“Will you stay with me tonight?” She asked, twinkling brown eyes pleading silently. 

Leonora matched her smile with a broad one of her own. “Dove, you’ll be hard pressed to get rid of me after a night like tonight.”

“Promise?” Clarissa asked saucily. 

“I’m all yours.” Leonora said, sealing the promise with a good-night kiss. 

Dovey pulled the covers up around them and snuggled tightly into Lesso’s open arms. Who knew all it would take to achieve her happily ever after would be to lock her Evil Dean in a closet with her?

Maybe one day she would tell her…

[valleydean]

Chapter 6 [Read Here]

HEAVYWEIGHT a deancas boxing au by valleydean (emmbrancsxx0) read from beginning | playlist | ko-fi

SUMMARY: Brooklyn, 1927. The Golden Age of Boxing. Two years ago, light heavyweight champion Dean Winchester and heavyweight champion Castiel Novak had a secret affair. After a scandal tarnished Cas’ name and stripped him of his title, the two parted ways. Now, with a heavyweight tournament on the horizon, Dean aims to up his weight class so he can compete for the title. He finds unexpected competition when Cas comes out of retirement and returns to New York to fix his reputation. Upon their reunion, the two contenders learn that, outside of the ring, some bruises never really heal.

PREVIEW:

The morning light slanting against the floral wallpaper of the opposite wall was the first thing Castiel saw when he woke up.

The grazed skin on his knuckles had scabbed over in the night and were now radiating with an intense burning. His pulse thrummed in his right cheekbone and eyebrow where they were smooshed against his pillow. His nose was as stiff as plaster. The cut on his lip felt like it was trying to tear his mouth into two as if it was a piece of flimsy tissue paper. When he breathed, his bruised stomach hurt where it was pressed against the mattress.

But he was enveloped in warmth, and the bed he laid upon had never been so comfortable, the blankets never so plush. Dean was laying half on top of him, his naked chest against the small of Castiel’s back, his cheek nestled between Castiel’s shoulder blades. His knee was hooked around Castiel’s calf; and, on the mattress, his arm rested over Castiel’s, palm pressed atop the back of his hand.

All the skin-on-skin contact made Castiel feel sticky and overheated, but he didn’t care. He wanted to stay absolutely the way he was for as long as possible.

Last night had been… unexpected, to say the least. Some parts were much better than others. In his half-awake state, Castiel almost convinced himself it was a dream.

As gently as he could, he lifted his head and tried to look over his shoulder. In the corner of his eye, Dean was still sleeping soundly.

He wanted to turn over, to put Dean’s head on his chest and watch him sleep, but he wouldn’t dare move. He was terrified it would wake Dean up—and then, Castiel didn’t know what would happen. Would Dean regret last night? Would he pull away from Castiel? There had been so much distance between them for so long, and Castiel missed him so very much. He wanted to stay close, back to chest.

He didn’t know how much time had passed before Dean grunted.

Castiel’s heart seized. He put his head back down, not wanting to be caught. Maybe, if he pretended he was still asleep, he wouldn’t have to meet Dean’s regret and aggression. Maybe Dean would slip out silently and leave Castiel to nurse his wounds both inside and out. His pulse slammed against his chest, and he feared Dean could hear it with his ear pressed to Castiel’s back.

Dean inhaled audibly through his nose, waking up fully.

Castiel felt him tense. Instantly, sorrow flooded his gut.

But then it all drained away when Dean’s palm pressed down fully against his hand and he twined their fingers together.

Castiel’s eyes were wide open. He tried to bite down on a smile, but it was difficult to do, especially when Dean nuzzled his nose against his shoulder.

Dean dropped a kiss there, and then another an inch away. Castiel felt the words forming against his skin when Dean said, “I know you’re awake.”

Castiel couldn’t help it. He smiled.

“You don’t breathe like that when you’re sleeping,” Dean told him. Castiel had no idea what he was talking about, but it hardly seemed important.

He got a hold of his expression before detangling their limbs and rolling over to face Dean. The linens rustled. Dean rolled onto his side and draped his arm over Castiel’s ribs when Castiel settled. Purpling bruises were blotched against his freckles. Scabs smattered his temple and jaw. He looked as delicate as porcelain like that, like something Castiel wanted to put on a shelf so no one would ever shatter him.

Castiel admired the hollow of Dean’s collarbone and the rounded muscles of his shoulder peeking out above the blanket before glancing back up. Dean’s green eyes stared back at him. He appeared well-rested. Castiel was glad.

“Good morning, Dean.”

A sleepy smile formed on Dean’s lips. “Hey.” His fingertips skimmed Castiel’s skin. Beneath the covers, their feet brushed. Castiel’s stomach fluttered.

“How are you feeling?” Castiel asked, eyeing Dean’s bruises and cuts, sorry that he had any part in inflicting them.

Dean closed his eyes tiredly, his lashes fanning out like sun rays. “Like I got run over by a truck. How ‘bout you? About the same?”

Again, Castiel found himself trying not to smile. “About the same.”

Dean chuckled, and it was infectious. Castiel was still grinning when Dean blinked his eyes open again.

Castiel was so in love with him.

“Bet I know a way to make it better,” Dean said.

It only made Castiel beam more, despite the way the cut on his lip stretched. He played along, “Do you?”

Dean hummed and leaned in, eyes once again closed. As Dean slotted their mouths together, Castiel watched him in the close proximity for a moment before closing his eyes too and kissing back. It was a tender kiss. Castiel had almost forgotten how gentle Dean could be.

/////

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