#chuck shurley is so relatable

[cerberuscaeli]

I have so many ideas of the things I want to write and my whole damn brain can turn it into a mental cinematic but when I have to write it down it's like the tape stopped working? Like, brain I love it that I can see it all as a cinematic and see how it is BUT I WANT TO WRITE IT DOWN, JUST GIVE ME THE SCRIPT TOO 😫

And this, this is why I have so many drafts and decided to call myself a "(day)dream" writer, bc everything gets written in my head but never on paper/word document 😒

Anyways, working on a slow progressing piece if idol!xiao and lowkey want to write a yandere fic thanks to 2PM and their song "My House", but we'll see if I can ever get it written down 😂

[caxycreations]

🍓 Author Ask tag 🍓

Thank you for the tag! @phynewrites <3

Some fantastic questions ^-^

I tag @that-one-enby-onyx @verba-writing @mikathewriter @akiwitch and @dreaminggoblin

Your questions are:

Which OC has the Jester's Privilege (google it if you aren't sure <3)

How long have you been writing your most recent WIP?

Other than your WIPs, what creative hobbies do you have?

Which character do you like the least from all your works?

If your WIP were to be considered the "inventor" of a new trope, which trope do you think that would be?

When the Writer's Block Fairy hits, do you hit back or do you let it run it's course?

If you could give any advice to your past self, right before starting your WIP, what would it be?

My questions, from phynewrites:

Which OC are you most fond of, and why?

David. I draw Davina more than David, by a lot, but David is my special little boy. He's the very first fursona I ever had, and he's still very near and dear to my heart.

Is there any form of media (other movies, books, theater, news, etc.) that inspired your wip/s? How so?

Visual Novels (which I'm working on one myself now!) and RPGs like Fable 2 and 3. Games where choices matter. I wanted to make a story that takes causality into account directly. Instead of writing back-to-front, where I have a pre-set conclusion, I write linearly. I've...essentially BECOME Malor, the God of Fate and Chance, from Relan.

I set very specific events that NEED to happen (David's incident with Trace, Ryder's employment with Kaleb, that sort of thing) and then allow the story to create itself in the in-betweens. What happens happens, and the choices matter: I let the characters breathe, live, do their own thing. I step into the shoes of an observer.

If I hadn't been so heavily inspired by games where the events are determined by free will and choice, I wouldn't write the way I do, and the story would be drastically different.

What wip-related activities do you do aside from writing your wip? (making moodboards or playlists, etc.)

Visual Novel XD I'm making a visual novel, and I draw now and then as well!

What are you most proud of in your wip/s and why?

The worldbuilding lore that most of the readers will never see XD

I put a LOT of work into building the world, before I ever wrote a single letter of the story, and most of it will never see the light of day unless I actually manage to finish the Relanian Lore Compendium

What tropes are common among your wip/s? Why do you enjoy incorporating these tropes?

Found Family, friends-to-lovers, affably evil, and irredeemably evil are my favorite tropes to use and pop up in almost everything I do XD

Which part of your wip are you most struggling and how do you plan to overcome it?

THE DOWNHILL CALM AFTER THE CLIMAX OF THE STORY. I've been struggling to write it for ages now. I finally hit the climax of the story and have been trying to write the final 2 chapters, and it's hard.

Supernatural said it best.

"Endings are hard. Any chapped-ass monkey with a keyboard can poop out a beginning, but endings are impossible. You try to tie up every loose end, but you never can. The fans are always gonna bitch. There's always gonna be holes. And since it's the ending, it's all supposed to add up to something. I'm telling you, they're a raging pain in the ass" - Chuck Shurley, Supernatural

Any advice/ words of encouragement or just really a greeting to any writeblr who would have read this far?

When you see those posts telling you how to be a good writer, giving all sorts of advice on the concepts of "show, don't tell", "don't over-worldbuild, don't under-worldbuild", "write this way, write that way"...

Fuck'em. If you're new enough to need advice, I promise, any advice like that is harmful. Start off just developing your style, your way. Learn how YOU write, what feels good to YOU. When you know your style, and you know what feels good to you, THEN learn the "rules".

Read like hell, both before, during, and after developing your style. When you have your style, learn the rules from an academic standpoint, learn the "correct" way to write.

And then adapt it. Bend the rules that suit you, break the rules that hurt your efforts, follow the rules that improve your work. Create your own set of rules and follow those instead of any standardized "This Is The Right Way" rules set by others.

That's my advice. Nobody can tell your story the way you can, so why should you follow anybody else's rules for writing?

[spnfanficpond]

Weekly Pond Newsletter

We're almost half way through February, which means it's time to celebrate the love we have with our friends on Galentine's Day! Make sure to send your friends only the best fic recs to show them that you care!

Old Business:

The Pond and the Ocean were featured on a podcast! Pond Admin Emeritus @manawhaat, Pond Admin @mrswhozeewhatsis, and @fanficocean Admin @buckys-zomdoll all sat down and chatted with @talltalesandbedtimestories and her cohost, Karlee, at the Idling In The Impala podcast! We talked about how the Pond started, how the Ocean expanded the idea into other fandoms, the kinds of things we do and have to offer, and what we want to do in the future. Click here to check out the podcast and give our episode a listen! Idling is a great podcast that discusses fan fiction and fandom, and even posts podfics! In fact, turning one of your fics into a podfic is now a prize in the Pond Prize Pool!

Admin changes at the Pond. As some of you may have read, @fictionalabyss has stepped down as admin of the Pond for personal reasons. We wish her well and the door is always open for her to return to her position with us. As one door closes, though, another opens in the form of @princessmisery666 becoming an admin! There will be some time while we get her up and running, but be sure to reach out and let her know you're glad she's with us!

The second Competitive Writing Sprints event was a success! All total, 2961 words were written in 40 minutes by three writers, all added to current WIPs! (In spite of kids, cats, and other real life distractions. lol) So far, this format seems to be working, so we're going to keep going like this, for now. We're hoping to schedule these twice a month, at least! Keep your eyes on the Pond's Google calendar to see when the next event is scheduled.

Last week's #TweetFicTues prompt from @writerswritecompany was:

New business:

Louden Swain concert on stageit on Friday! Louden Swain, the band headed by Rob Benedict, aka Chuck Shurley on SPN, and also known as the house band for Creation SPN conventions, will be performing on stageit to kick off the weekend. Click here to learn more and buy a ticket!

Fishing for Treasures weekend at the Pond is next weekend! This month, we're celebrating your smuttiest fics. Send us the smuttiest of the smutty from your masterlist and we'll reblog them all weekend long! To submit, you can either use the ask/submit buttons, or drop a link in the #fishing-for-treasures channel in the discord server. The deadline to have hem to us is midnight Friday, Eastern US/Canada time.

Steve Carlson concert on stageit next Sunday! Steve is also known as the other half of Radio Company, the band our Jensen Ackles formed a few years ago and performed with back in December in Nashville. Steve is wildly talented, playing dozens of instruments and writing all of his own songs, as well as writing with Jensen for Radio Company. Click here to learn more and buy a ticket to the show!

Evaluating your place in the Pond. Have you been a member for a while and you can't remember if you're a Guppy or a Jelly Fish? Or maybe you're a Jelly Fish thinking you'd like to take on some responsibility and become a Manta Ray? If you think maybe you're up for a change, you can check our our member list here to see where you are, then read this post about our different categories, and decide if you're ready to move up. If you are, simply send us an ask, or DM an admin (@mrswhozeewhatsis, @mariekoukie6661, or @princessmisery666) and let us know!

(Divider by @glygriffe!)

That's all for this week! To see all Pond events, and also other SPN-related things like conventions and online concerts, check out our Google calendar! We try to keep it as up to date as possible. If there's something you want to see on the calendar that's not there (maybe a convention we missed, or cast birthdays, or something similar), send us an ASK and let us know!

Hope you have a great week! - From your admins, @manawhaat, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @mariekoukie6661, @princessmisery666, and @thoughtslikeaminefield!

[rogue-inquisitor]

Spn fic idea I’m never gonna write but need to see:

Dean Winchester is secretly an accomplished poet au.

Hear me out.

Nobody knows that the highly acclaimed modern poet Steve Tyler is actually Dean Winchester, and no one is ever gonna know if Dean has anything to say about it. Especially Sam.

There are a couple of close calls, like that time Dean found Sam reading a beat up copy of his anthology and had to stumble through an increasingly awkward conversation about how relevant and poignant his works were when read through the eyes of a hunter, or when he, on autopilot, corrected the high school English teacher they just saved from a rougarou when she quoted one of his works wrong.

When they stumble upon a prophet’s book series about their lives, well, Dean is sure the jig is up. Sam will find out his pie-loving, badass, macho, high school dropout of a brother writes poetry of all things and he’ll never hear the end of it. When there’s no mention of it in the Supernatural books, well, he breathes a sigh of relief. (What he doesn’t know, is that one Chuck Shurley, God, is so goddamn jealous that Dean is a better writer that he deliberately leaves it out.)

At one point Sam puts a couple pieces together, and quietly pulls Dean aside.

“Y’know Steve Tyler? How I always thought his works were relatable?”

Dean, sweating, nods. Goddamnit, he knew that latest book about the apocalypse and destiny was a little too on the nose.

“Do you think it’s Chuck?”

Dean almost sags in relief. “Yeah, seems like something that little twerp would do.”

When they meet Metatron, it takes the threat of sticking an angel blade where the sun don’t shine for his secret to stay safe.

“Don’t worry,” the nerdy rat says, voice high and reedy, “I won’t tell Sam about your sickening love poems about short and grumpy over there.”

He doesn’t know why he hasn’t told Sam. He’s been holding onto this secret for so long, holding this so close to his chest, that the thought of other people knowing would kill him.

When his secret does come out, it’s simultaneously earth shattering and anticlimactic. Cas casually strolls into the bunker and announces that he’s finished reading Dean’s works, before tossing a faded and well read copy onto the table. Sam loses his mind.

There’s a long break, between poems, when things are at their worst. When Mary dies, again, he posts a single sentence to his website and doesn’t touch a pen for a long time.

I learned to love more than the idea of you, but I learned it too late.

Later, once they’ve saved the world (again), and Chuck has been dealt with, Dean sits down in the bunker, and stares at his notebook. All the little things that have been sitting in his chest stab at him like knives.

He thinks about Cas. Cas, telling him the one thing Dean was only ever able to say behind three layers of metaphor, saying those three words like it’s easy. Cas being swallowed up by the empty. Cas, who read Dean’s poetry so much the cover was soft and cracked with repeated use, where the pages were worn and frayed at the edges.

And like he’s releasing some great weight, Dean puts a pen to the page, and writes.

[fractalobsessed]

it’s just,,,between the ghostfacers effect and chuck as god as author, what of supernatural do we even ever see that’s “real”? point to fundamental truth in supernatural. you can’t. you can only point to chuck with the knowledge that he’s manipulating and lying and obscuring and that fundamental truth must be somewhere behind him.

[mik-ael]

7 days by Alessia cara gives me heavy Chuck vibes.

If there's a God / do you think he's looking down, curled up on his couch right now? / As we fail to figure it out, does he turn down the sound? / Is he proud? Are we proud?

We're in some trouble / Mr. Maker, don't turn away from your screen / at least the bubble that we've created could make for some good TV

guys i love these song asks so much, i don't know if it's the same person asking but please continue!

also yes! i mean this entire song is gorgeous and has really good lyrics but some parts just hit so hard, chuck-related.

i actually liked chuck before, both when he was just the prophet and i also really liked the reveal that he was actually God. i think he was a good villian and that it was very interesting and unique to make the final villian of spn freaking God. but i just can't forgive him after what he did to adam & michael so i kinda hate him now.

but yeah, this song is great and it really does have heavy chuck vibes.

Don't touch the remote / it'll be back in a moment / we are not hopeless / we are just coping / the mayhem is rolling / but it ain't showbiz

Reality's potent / chaotic, I know it / but we're growing / have some hope in us / and were we worth all the time you gave us?

[samxdean]

me @ spn and team free will

[taronunwin]

As He Breaks

Chapter 1 by Carver Edlund

Dean's wrists were badly chafed. He suspected his ankles looked the same, if not worse. He wasn't sure why he bothered fighting against the chains that held him to the rack just loosely enough to allow for some struggle but never enough to actually do any good. It had been weeks, months, years... maybe even decades, but still, he couldn't help himself. He had to fight against the pain. It was as natural a reaction as squinting after stepping into direct sunlight.

Sunlight. How long had it been since he'd seen that? Somehow that felt even longer ago.

He'd kept count for the first year. He would whisper it under his breath at the end of each day, at the end of each session. When Alastair laid his razor down on the table of instruments he kept close, Dean would grit his teeth and, through the blood in his mouth, groan out the number. The last he recalled saying was 368.

On day 369, he couldn't remember what yesterday was. Every day contained the same thing so he was surprised he'd kept track as long as he did.

"369," Alastair said when Dean didn't. His voice was unnaturally sympathetic. That startled Dean more than what he said. "It's day 369, Dean." He’d sobbed that day. Not that he hadn’t cried before here, but this time it wasn’t because of the pain—not totally, at least. Hearing his name said softly, almost kindly, broke his heart completely.

How long ago had that been, Dean wondered. Day 369 became 370, then it was 400, then he gave up keeping track when he realized that he had started counting because he believed it would end one day. But it wouldn't. This torture, this excruciating pain, it would never end.

On whatever day it was this time, Alastair glanced at Dean, returning from cleaning his blade on an already blood-soaked towel nearby. Dean’s jaw clenched tightly, the only pain he could control, and his eyes shut. His hands balled into fists and he tensed, knowing exactly what was coming. The day was nearly over, he never knew how he knew that but somehow he just did, so Alastair was cramming in what he wanted to finish before time was up.

The razor cut into the flesh just below his ribcage and, though he tried to keep silent, Dean cried out until his throat was raw. Or at least more raw than it had been at the start of the day. Water, or better yet whiskey, was unheard of down here. He knew screaming was just as useless as fighting, but he was powerless to stop either. No one would help, no one seemed able to hear, except Alastair.

Not that Alastair was the only one who took pleasure in Dean’s agony. Others came, some demon, some human on their way to becoming demons. But today it was just Alastair.

Finally, the master of torture stepped back, tilted his head, and smiled. He was hideous in every way, his un-vesseled form, but his smile made the ugly, evil face even harder to look at. Dean refused to open his eyes, instead hearing the smile in Alastair’s voice when he stated, “There. I think that’s quite enough for one day, wouldn’t you agree?”

Then, the same sounds he’d heard every night since he awoke here, suspended and chained in the abyss: the familiar metal-on-metal tick of the razer being placed on the table; a few footsteps; scribbling; Alastair’s notebook closing; more footsteps, nearing this time. Dean knew what the demon would say next and he knew what he had to say.

But yesterday something had changed. He’d felt his strength waning. Not that he had any left, but his reserves, the ones buried way down deep, were failing him. Years upon years of this had stripped away every ounce of resolve he had. And yesterday, when Alastair offered to take him off the rack, Dean hadn’t replied. It was the first time that he couldn’t find the will to say ‘no’, or one of the many other sarcastic responses he’d come up with. Instead, his silence spoke for him and Alastair returned the next morning with his tools and evil smile.

Dean couldn’t open his eyes if he wanted to look at the figure hovering over him, taking stock of the damage the demon had inflicted. Dean couldn’t recall ever being so exhausted. He had endured so much pain, he was at his breaking point.

“Did you know it’s our anniversary today, Dean?” Alastair asked, his voice just above a whisper.

Dean could barely breathe, his body torn to shreds, but he fought to focus on the words. What could it be, five years? Ten? Twenty?

“I know, you wanted to get me something special to celebrate but you’ve been just so darn tied up lately.” He laughed. Dean cringed. “Don’t worry, I got you something special.”

Alastair leaned in even closer as Dean angled his head as far away as he could manage. “I was thinking tomorrow, we get... a dog.”

Tears burned behind his closed lids and one escaped down his bruised cheek. His fists ached but he couldn’t release them. He imagined breaking these chains and... and what? There was no getting out or getting back to earth.

And Dean knew what kind of dog Alastair was referring to. A hellhound. It wasn’t the first time Alastair had let the beast at Dean but it had been a while—that was one thing Dean was thankful for.

“Oh, bother, I shouldn’t have told you. Now you’re so excited you won’t be able to sleep,” Alastair teased, straightening. “Unless, of course... you don’t want to.” He almost sang the words. “You know, if you wanted to get out of here, we could go somewhere nice to celebrate.”

There it was. The offer. Cruelly disguised as freedom, but it was there all the same: get off the rack and take Alastair’s place. Stop being the victim and start on his path to becoming a demon.

Alastair waited patiently. Moments passed and Dean said nothing. He couldn’t speak. He wanted to decline, scream it, shout it, spit it, but nothing came out.

“Alright,” Alastair finally replied, an odd mix of pleasure and disappointment in his tone. “Then I will see you bright and early tomo—”

“How long?” Dean didn’t recognize his own voice but he knew from the grating in his throat that he’d managed to speak.

“I beg your pardon?”

Dean swallowed painfully. “How long?” He forced his eyes open and tried to look Alastair square in the face.

The demon smiled. “How long have we been together? Why, Dean, I’m hurt. I thought you were keeping count this whole time.” He waited, expecting a snippy reply, but Dean had nothing to say. Sighing, Alastair replied, “30 years.”

Dean could have fainted. If it was earth and the natural rules applied, he would have. 30 years. To some extent, he couldn’t believe it had been so long but he was equally as shocked that so little time had passed. It felt like an eternity already. How could he possibly endure more, much less more without end?

His thoughts shifted to Sam, the only comfort he found here. Was he happy now? If 30 years had passed, Dean could believe that Sammy had moved on and had been able to forget about him. He’d be over 50 now. Dean almost smiled at the mental image of his brother with thinning hair and—

“And no, Sam isn’t an old man now.”

Dean froze.

“You see Dean, time’s different down here. Oh yes, it’s been 30 years here, but it’s only been 3 months up there.”

That statement, whether true or false, burned the last atom of strength Dean had left. He couldn’t fight anymore. He had fought for 30 years. 3 decades to the day. And he couldn’t take it any longer.

“Well, I’ll just be going now.”

Knowing the satisfaction it would give Alastair almost made Dean keep quiet but he also knew what would come tomorrow if he didn’t. “Wait.”

Alastair stopped at the door, his hand on the rusty knob. He didn’t look back. “Yes, Dean? Something you need?”

Dean closed his eyes against the spinning room. His heart slammed against his ribs like a sledgehammer. He was giving up and his body, or maybe his soul, hated him for it. “I’ll do it.”

The footsteps approached again. “I might have some blood in my ear, Dean, so could you repeat that? I want to get it just right for my diary.”

“I said... I’ll do it.” His voice was still unrecognizable to him. It was weak, unsteady, raw, just like the rest of him. It suited the victimized, abused man he’d become.

Then suddenly, he was that man no longer. His hands relaxed and the agonizing tension in every muscle eased. This had happened a million times before but this time the ‘healing’ felt different. He felt like himself again; powerful and capable, young and alive. The chains fell open as Alastair snapped his finger and for the first time in 30 years, Dean was free from bondage. He sat up slowly, cautiously. He felt sure that this was a trick, that the chains would close again around his limbs and he would be stuck again, left to contemplate his absolute aloneness until Alastair returned.

But it didn’t happen.

He swung his legs over the side of the cold metal rack and his torturer stepped back, giving Dean space. Dean couldn’t shake the unease he felt as Alastair watched him like Alastair was a starved monster and Dean was his lunch.

Even though he was whole again, uncut, unbloodied, Dean’s legs were not what they once were and his knees buckled when his feet touched the floor and his weight shifted. He held onto the rack and cursed. Alastair abruptly walked to the other side of the room to a cabinet that Dean had never seen open. Swinging it open and revealing at least a dozen bottles of liquor, Alastair glanced back. “Can I interest you in a drink to celebrate this momentous occasion?”

Dean’s mouth watered and his stomach growled at the sight. He was proof that food and drink wasn’t a necessity to survive in hell, he hadn’t eaten since his last meal at Bobby’s house, but he still craved it.

Alastair selected one and moved to the door. He opened it and called, “Bring her in.” Dean watched in shock as two demons dragged a woman in, wailing and begging. Dean moved away from the rack in horror as she was strapped into the space he had filled for the past decades. She too fought against the restraints uselessly, crying, her eyes darting around the room. She was as panicked as he had been his first day in this God-forsaken room.

Dean turned away from the sight, covering his face with a shaking hand. He knew what was expected of him, what his end of the bargain was for the woman taking his place. But he had spent his whole life helping people, saving them from monsters. Would he really become the monster now to spare himself?

“Oh Dean,” Alastair sang above the woman’s shrieks. Dean slowly, almost against his will, looked at the demon. Alastair held out the bottle of liquor but Dean wasn’t unaware of what Alastair was really offering him. His free hand rested over his razor and he tapped his finger impatiently on its handle. “Come on, grasshopper, it’s time to get started.”

Resisting the urge to vomit, if that was even possible in hell, Dean yanked the bottle from Alastair’s hand, broke the seal, and drank it greedily. He could barely stop but he needed air. Lowering it, he inhaled deeply, gruffly. Perhaps this was when the real torture began, he considered. Maybe there was a way to get free, to—

Suddenly Alastair was directly beside him, his hand tight against Dean’s throat. “I know what you’re thinking, Dean, and before you think it a moment longer, I want you to know that if you don’t pick up that blade and do exactly as I tell you, you will spend the rest of your days on this rack without another offer. And don’t forget, ‘the rest of your days’ is really just a figure of speech. You understand me?”

Dean understood perfectly. This was his only chance to be free of an eternity of suffering. He nodded once.

Alastair released him and moved away, close to the woman. “Hello, my dear,” he swooned. “You are in for a real treat, I mean a real treat. You see this man, oh he’s really something special, dear. You might even say he’s a virgin and you’re going to be his first. Yes, this is going in my diary for certain. Now come on, Dean, let’s not waste the lovely girl’s time, can’t you see she’s ready and waiting?”

Dean finished the bottle. Slamming it down, he heard the woman cry out in surprise at the noise before continuing to sob, begging Alastair to let her go. Dean wished he was deaf. And blind.

With a trembling hand, he gripped the blade and turned. She eyed the razer and screamed even louder than before.

Alastair grinned. “That’s right, come here now.”

Dean didn’t remember much of what happened next. He listened to Alastair’s instructions, where to cut, how to cut, what places on the body produced the most and least amounts of blood, and so on. To Dean’s disgust, Alastair was teaching him.

Something in Dean’s mind switched ‘off’ that day. And it was at the exact moment that Alastair’s blade, held tightly in Dean’s own hand, sliced through the woman’s skin, drawing the most fear-filled cry he had ever heard. But she wasn’t afraid of Alastair. She was afraid of Dean.

To protect himself, he imagined, it was as though his humanity turned away and all that was left was the wounded animal who finally, after 30 years, had the chance to inflict pain back. He couldn’t hurt Alastair, but he could imagine that every soul placed before him was the demon.

And instead of counting the days, Dean began counting souls. Until he lost count of those, too.

[emmii4]

Why is writing so hard?

[michaelmilligan]

Endversetober Day 23: Shelter

(explanation post) (compilation post)

When Michael opened his eyes again, everything still hurt.

He couldn't be in Purgatory, though. As far as he knew, there were no huts in Purgatory, and no warming fires next to semi-comfortable beds.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” a man said from beside him.

It would have made Michael jump and ready a weapon if he'd been able to move that much. Instead, he just flinched, then groaned in pain.

“Yeah, I thought you'd say that. Sorry, but we're low on painkiller.” The man peered down at him from his chair.

With difficulty, Michael moved his – Adam's – head, and saw a Torah in the man's lap.

Where are we? Adam suddenly asked, and Michael was embarrassed by how relieved he was to hear his voice.

“I don't-” Michael closed the vessel's mouth, then said to Adam: I don't know.

“You don't?” the man asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I don't know where I am,” Michael admitted out loud. “Or who you are. Did you save u- I mean, me?”

It was difficult to speak, but Michael was used to not showing pain, or weakness. He could make do.

“Do you remember a few days ago,” the man said instead of an answer, “when you killed a bunch of Croats? You saved a woman and a kid.”

Michael did remember, vaguely. There had been a few more instances like it, though he hadn't always bothered to protect the uninfected humans. Not when annihilation had been at the top of his agenda.

“Their names are Linda and Kevin. Did you know that?”

“They may have mentioned it. Are you a friend of theirs?”

The man didn't look like he was related to them, though looks could of course be deceiving. Perhaps he was the father of the child.

“I'm Rufus,” the man said, as if that explained anything. “Lin said you were some kind of bigger than life type – a well-meaning monster or something. You just look like a man to me, though.”

Michael opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again. “I suppose I am something like a man, at this point,” he finally said. “I'm not who, or what, I used to be.”

Rufus scoffed. “Well, tough shit. None of us is.”

“Why did you save...” Michael hesitated, then decided that they already knew he wasn't fully human. “...us?”

“'Us'? There more than one in there?” Rufus raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. I can't say I particularly appreciate having to accept help, but thank you for saving Adam.”

“Well, you can tell us all about who and how many you are later,” Rufus said, just as someone entered through the door.

“Is he awake?! Holy shit!” The kid from a few days ago – Kevin – hastened towards the bed. “Are you okay?”

“This body is very impaired right now,” Michael told him.

“O...kay?”

“Kev, how about you go tell your mom that he's awake. I'm sure she'll want to know,” Rufus told him, and he nodded, immediately scampering off. Rufus sighed. “He's a good kid. Actually, he's the reason we found you. He had some kind of vision about a zombie horde being in that spot, so we went to kill 'em. Found all those fuckers dead and you lying there, instead.”

“He has visions?” Michael asked in confusion. That would make him a prophet, but the role should have been filled by Chuck Shurley. Or perhaps he was psychic...

“Seems to be a trend for people in this camp. There was this other guy who had visions... I still don't know if I believe in that stuff, but Kevin's visions started the day after Chuck died.”

Dead, then. Raphael must have failed in their duty.

Possibly, they hadn't even felt the threat to the prophet, or had at least been powerless to stop it.

“I can't help him with those,” Michael said.

Rufus just scoffed again. “I didn't ask you to. Honestly, all I want from you right now is to stay in bed. We can talk about everything else later... Adam, was it?”

“Michael. Adam is...” Michael shook his head. “It's complicated.”

Not really, Adam said.

Well I would have to start with the fact that angels exist. And then I would have to explain why we didn't stop this, Michael countered.

Oh, so it's complicated for you. Gotcha.

Michael sighed.

“I think we should sleep now,” he said aloud. “This body is very weak.”

“Sure.” Rufus stood up from his chair and started walking towards the door. He stopped before stepping outside though. “You know, any regular human would have been dead before we got them to the camp.”

Michael hummed in acknowledgement. There wasn't much angel left in him, but... just a speck, a spark, was still there.

Maybe it would rekindle, and his strength would return.

Or maybe not.

They would have to wait and see. And for now, apparently, sleep.

[bi-bard]

Please Say That You're Joking (Pt.1) - Chuck Shurley Imagine (Supernatural)

Title: Please Say You're Joking (Pt. 1) [You can read part 2 by clicking here!]

Pairing: Chuck Shurley X Winchester!Reader

Requested: Nope

Word Count: 2,930 words

Warning(s): mentions of sex, threats of violence

Summary: (Season 4; Season 11) (Y/n) had a single one-night stand while coping with loss in a not healthy way... if only they had a clue about the weight of their actions.

Author's Note: I was recently going back through some of the "lighter" episodes of Supernatural because I wanted to watch something I could chuckle at. That's where this came from.

This might be the most crackheaded thing I've written in a while.

Also, the amount of things I had to bullshit my way through this is actually ridiculous.

Hey! I did a rewrite of the ending of Supernatural. It took a really long time to complete, so it would mean a lot to me if you check it out. Here’s a link! (it’s on my personal account)

-------------------------------------

Sam, Dean, and I walked into the motel room. We were all confused and slightly scared.

We had gone to a comic book shop to do some work on a case. However, we were then called fans.

Fans of what?

Well, fans of a series of books about our lives.

I was the middle Winchester child. Two years younger than Dean, two years older than Sam. I was beyond confused when I saw some weird, romanticized version of me on the cover of a book.

"This is so weird," I mumbled, plopping onto one of the beds in the room.

Sam jumped onto his laptop and started researching. Dean was holding one of the books, reading through it. I didn't even want to touch it.

"I don't like how he describes (Y/n)," Dean commented. "It's weird. It's like he's in love. Listen to this..."

Dean dramatically clears his throat and starts to read in an even more dramatic voice, "'Even after a hard hunt, (Y/n) could easily be seen as the most beautiful of the siblings. They mimicked the beauty of their mother more than their brothers. There's no bruise or cut that could take the loveliness away from the natural curves of (Y/n)'s face. If only they could see how everyone else would stare-"

"Okay, ew," I muttered, walking to the table. "What'd you find?"

"Well, it seems like Carver Edlund is a pen name," Sam shrugged. "And the fans are intense."

"As in," Dean asked, closing the book and joining the two of us at the table.

"Well," Sam handed me the laptop so Dean and I could look at it, "there's fanfiction. About all of us."

"What's this, 'Sam/Dean'," I asked.

"It's... me and Dean... together."

"They just don't care that we're related," Dean asked. Sam nodded.

"God, this is so weird."

"So, how do we find this guy," I asked.

--time skip--

We managed to find the publisher of the novels and found her house.

"So, you published the 'Supernatural' books," I asked as we walked in.

"Yep," she nodded. "Yeah, gosh. These books... they never really got the attention that they deserved. All anybody wants to read anymore is that romance crap."

"Could not agree with you more," I said. "We're hoping that our article can shine a light on an underappreciated series."

"Yeah, because, you know, if we got a little bit of good press, then maybe we can start publishing again," she replied excitedly.

"No, no, no," Dean immediately shut her down. "I mean, why... why would you want to do that? It's such a complete series with Dean going to hell and all."

"Oh my god, that was one of my favorite ones," she rambled. "Dean was so strong and sad and brave. And Sam... I mean... the best ones are when they cry... like in 'Heart' when Sam had to kill Madison; the first woman since Jessica he'd really loved. When Dean had to call John in 'Home' and ask him for help. Or when (Y/n) went back to the motel room after getting kidnapped and just had to sit in their own head and had to truly process not only the death of their mother but now their father. The mixed feelings were amazing."

"You're a really big fan," I noted. She nodded.

"Gosh, if only real men were that open about their emotions."

"Real men," Dean asked.

"I mean, no offense," she replied. "How often do you cry like that?"

"Well, right now I'm crying on the inside," he muttered.

"Is that supposed to be funny?"

"Lady, this whole thing is funny."

"How am I supposed to know this is legit?"

"Oh, trust me," Dean mumbled. "We're legit."

"Well, I don't want some smart-ass article making fun of my boys," she snapped as she sat in her chair.

"Oh, never," I replied quickly. "We actually are big fans."

"You read the books?"

"Cover to cover," I promised.

"What's the year and model of the car?"

"1967 Chevy Impala," Dean smiled proudly.

"What's May 2nd?"

"That's my- uh... Sam's birthday," Sam replied.

"Sam's score on the LSAT?"

"Umm... 174," Sam said nervously.

"(Y/n)'s first hunt?"

"Vampire in Washington," I answered. "Dean was at the motel sick and (Y/n) almost chopped John's head off when he scared them."

"(Y/n)'s favorite memory that's not related to hunting?"

I smiled, "Helping Sam get ready for a date when he was a teenager because Sam didn't trust what Dean had told him."

"Dean's favorite song?"

"It's a tie," Dean replied. "Between Zep's 'Ramble On' and 'Traveling Riverside Blues.'"

She finally laughed and smiled again, "Okay, okay. What do you wanna know?"

"What's Carver Edlund's real name," Sam asked.

"Oh, no. I can't," she shook her head.

"We just wanna talk to him," Sam continued. "You know, get the 'Supernatural' story in his own words."

"He's very private," she shrugged. "Like Salinger."

"Please," Sam tried again. "Like I said, we're um... big fans."

Sam unbuttoned his shirt enough to show his anti-possession tattoo. Dean pulled his shirt to the side to do the same. I rolled my eyes and yanked the arm of my jacket down and pulled up the sleeve of my t-shirt. I don't wear as many layers as them and I had opted to put the tattoo on my upper arm because I thought it looked nicer.

"Awesome," the lady mumbled before standing up. "Y'know what?"

I looked away as she pulled her pants down.

"I got one too."

"Wow, you are a fan," I slapped Dean's arm. The lady fixed her clothing before grabbing a pen and paper.

"Okay," she said. "His name's Chuck Shurley-"

And I stopped listening after that. I knew that name... why did I know that name... oh... oh no. I'm gonna kill him. We're going to meet this man and I am going to end up killing him.

I followed Sam and Dean as they started walking out of the woman's house.

"Excuse me," she called as we reached the door. We looked back at her. "I'm sorry, but you look exactly like how I picture (Y/n) when I read the books."

I chuckled, "Thanks."

"He describes (Y/n) with so much detail," she smiled. "You could play them in a movie."

"Thank you," I waved as we walked out.

"'You could play them in a movie,'" Dean teased.

"I know who Chuck is," I said, ignoring him.

"What," he asked. I nodded. "How?"

I pointed to get into the car. I got in the back seat and Sam and Dean sat upfront. Dean started driving to the address the lady gave us before I started speaking.

"Okay, when you went to hell, Sam's not the only one who ran off," I explained. "I wasn't gone for four months... just two weeks. In those two weeks, I got involved in a single one-night stand. The name he gave me was Chuck Shurley."

"You screwed the man who wrote books about us," Dean asked, sounding angry.

"Do you think I knew he was writing books based on our lives?"

"He had to have known who you are," Sam added. "This isn't an accident. He has to get visions or something."

"Yeah, I know," I nodded. "He made money off of my name and then screwed me."

"Damn," Dean mumbled. "I missed a hell of a lot."

I rolled my eyes.

--time skip--

I knocked on the door loudly. Sam grabbed my arm, shaking his head at me. The door was opened and I smiled obnoxiously as Chuck. He was in a robe, his boxers, and an old white shirt. He looked tired and like he hadn't had a goodnight's sleep in days.

"Chuck Shurley," Dean asked.

"Chuck Shurley that wrote the Supernatural books," Sam added.

"Nice to meet you," I said. "This is Sam... Dean... and I'm (Y/n)... the ones you've written books about."

Chuck sighed and went to shut the door. I stepped in, stopping it with my foot.

"Listen, I appreciate the enthusiasm, I really do and I remember you," he motioned at me, awkwardly grinning before seeming to shake the memories out of his head. I almost slapped him right then. "But please... go get a life."

"You see," Dean followed me, helping to force our way inside. Sam made sure the door shut behind us. "We have a life... and you're selling books about it."

"Okay, this isn't funny," Chuck mumbled.

"You're right," I said. "We just wanna know how you're doing it?"

"I'm just a writer, I'm not doing anything."

"Then why do you know so much about demons and tulpas and changelings?"

"Is this some kind of 'Misery' thing? Ah, it is, isn't it? It's a 'Misery' thing!"

"No, it's not," I shook my head. "Believe me, we're not fans."

"What do you want then," he asked.

"I'm Sam... and that's Dean and (Y/n)," Sam tried again.

"Those are fictional characters," Chuck yelled. "They aren't real!"

Dean grabbed him and pulled him outside.

"Wait, wait-"

"We aren't kidnapping you, calm down," I rolled my eyes. Dean opened the hidden compartment in the impala's trunk.

"Are those real guns?"

"Yes," I nodded. "And real rock salt, real fake IDs."

Chuck let out a laugh at it, "Well, I gotta hand it to you guys. You really are my number-one fans. That... That's awesome. So, I-I think I've got some poster in the house."

"Chuck, stop," I rolled my eyes, grabbing his arm as he went to walk away.

"Please don't hurt me," he begged.

"How much do you know," Sam asked. "Do you know about the angels? Or Lilith breaking the seals?"

"How do you know about that?"

"Have you not been listening," I asked. "The real question is how do you?"

"Because I wrote it," he explained.

"You kept writing?"

"The books never came out because the publisher went bankrupt," he furrowed his eyebrows.

I stepped back, letting go of his arms.

"Okay, wait a minute," Chuck crossed his arms. "This is some kind of joke, right? Did Phil put you up to this?"

"Oh my god," I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose. I grabbed his robe. "I'm sorry but I'm really tired. Nice to meet you. I'm (Y/n) Winchester, these are my brothers, Sam and Dean Winchester. You wrote and published books about us, probably knew who I was, and then you still slept with me."

He stared at me in shock.

"What," I asked.

"The last names were never in the books," he mumbled. "I never told anyone about that. I never even wrote that down."

"Then I guess we have a lot to talk about," I let go of his robe.

The three of us followed him inside.

--time skip--

"I got a visit from Cas," Dean explained as he walked in. "I've some important information."

After talking to Chuck and getting a draft of what was supposed to happen, we were all panicking. Dean told us to wait here. Lilith was going to come for Sam and we both thought it'd be harder if there was more than one of us here at all times.

Now, Dean was coming back from seeing Chuck.

"And that important information is...," Sam trailed off.

"He's a prophet of the lord," Dean said, smirking at me.

I shut my eyes, letting my head fall forward.

"Please say you're joking," I mumbled.

"Nope," Dean replied.

Sam looked over at me. He only started chuckling after his brother broke.

Dean was laughing his head off within seconds, "You screwed a prophet!"

"Shut up," I groaned. "I'm gonna kill him!"

"Archangel will kill you."

"I'll happily pay that price," I muttered. "I slept with a prophet."

"At least that means he didn't write himself to sleep with you," Sam tried to comfort me.

"Yeah, God just decided I was supposed to sleep with the guy publishing books about my life," I replied sarcastically. "That makes me feel so much better."

"Come on, it could be worst-"

"Sam, love you, but don't finish that sentence if you even kind of value your life," I muttered.

I was desperate for this conversation to just end.

--time skip--

After all was said and done, and Chuck accidentally helped us chase Lilith away for a while, we gave Chuck a lift back to his place.

I followed him up to his door, offering to look around and make sure that he's safe. He shook his head.

"I have an archangel protecting me," he reminded me. "Can't get any safer than that."

I nodded.

"I'm sorry, by the way," he said. "About us. I didn't recognize you until after... it all... and I didn't say anything because I didn't really know how to explain it. The whole event makes me feel all scummy."

"It's alright," I replied with a chuckle. "It's fine, I promise."

He offered me a nervous smile, "Y'know, in all of my visions, you're the most vivid thing."

With a grin, I leaned over and kissed his cheek gently. I stepped back and headed back toward the impala. I made sure to take note of his nervous and flustered face.

"See you around, Chuck!"

"You... You too," he called after me. I got in the backseat and got comfortable.

"So... screwing the prophet wasn't that bad," Dean asked.

I just rolled my eyes, waving through the window at Chuck as Dean pulled away from the curb. Leave it to a Winchester to end up in a situation like that.

--time skip (season 11)--

Sam and I followed Dean with our guns ready. Dean was following the amulet that he had owned for a long time without even knowing it could show us where God was.

Everyone had been infected by Amara only minutes ago but now it was okay and Dean's amulet was glowing.

"Holy shit," I mumbled, seeing who was walking over to us.

Chuck.

He was supposed to be dead. That's why Kevin's prophet powers had been activated.

"No way," Dean said.

"Hey," Chuck... or God said. "We need to talk."

Despite our understandable hesitation, Chuck reached forward, teleporting all of us back to the bunker. I stepped away from him, slightly overwhelmed.

"(Y/n)," Chuck walked over and tried to grab my arm. I instinctually slapped him. I was nothing but confusion and anger. "I deserved that. Just, please?"

I stepped away again.

From behind Chuck stepped Kevin's ghost. My breath caught in my throat. The poor boy had been through so much shit because of us.

Kevin told us about how we looked stressed and that we should listen to Chuck.

Then, Chuck waved his hand. Kevin turned into a ball of white and blue light before ascending beyond the bunker.

"Where'd he go," I asked.

"Heaven, where he deserves," Chuck promised. I nodded.

I listened to the rant about how Chuck had abandoned us all and how awful things were. Then, the conversation turned to the plan to stop Amara. The boys talked about needing Lucifer and Chuck got incredibly upset. In a fit, he went to leave. I stepped in front of him.

"No," I said bluntly. "Even if you want to avoid the subject of your estranged son, you can't just leave."

"(Y/n)-"

"Sam, Dean," I looked at them. "Give us a minute?"

They both nodded, glaring at Chuck on their way out. I tried to ignore the instincts that were telling me that Chuck was just selfish.

"(Y/n)," Chuck mumbled.

"Just answer my questions," I said. "Then we can discuss what to do with Amara without you storming away recklessly. Okay?"

He nodded.

"Have you been God the whole time," I asked.

He nodded.

"You wrote all of our stories?"

Another nod.

"Did you write that I was going to sleep with you?"

I felt manipulated and angry. I was desperate for an answer. I knew that this could've made me feel like dirt, but I needed to know.

"No," Chuck said. I clenched my jaw, ready to call him a liar. "I told you. I had been pretty much hands-off for a long time. Did I know who were? Absolutely. I'm sorry I lied to you about that. But I didn't plan anything between us. We weren't some divine plan."

I nodded, looking down.

"You know how Dean and Amara are connected," he asked. I nodded, looking back at him. "We're like them."

"And that's not a divine plan-"

"I'm not doing a good job explaining this," Chuck shook his head. "It feels like we're like them. Like there's this bond that just happened as soon as we met."

"You lied to me, for years," I said. "Saying we have some bond isn't gonna fix that."

"I know."

We both fell silent. Slowly, I started laughing. Chuck furrowed his eyebrows, "My only one-night stand... and it was God."

Chuck started laughing with me while I really processed what I had done.

I slowly stopped laughing.

I didn't notice until it was too late that Chuck had slowly gotten closer to me. As soon as his lips brushed mine, I pushed him back. Not hard, but enough to get him to step away.

"No," I mumbled. "Not that, no."

Chuck nodded, "Got it."

"Now," I sighed, "we need to actually plan to stop Amara, and if we need Luci-"

"We don't," he said bluntly. "We can do something else. We don't need him. Okay?"

I nodded. In my gut, I trusted him. Maybe that was me being an idiot but I did trust him. For now at least.

-------------------------------------

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[mittensmorgul]

Do you think Chuck Shurley and God were always the same person? Or do you think Chuck was a legitimate prophet who was possessed by God at some point in the show? I always preferred the idea that Chuck was always God from the very beginning (It makes The Monster At The End of This Book more full circle imo) but I'm curious what you think

heyo! I personally have also always preferred the read that Chuck was always God. I know folks who quite logically prefer to believe he was just some guy named Chuck for the first few episodes we saw him in before God took him over, but I personally can't see it that way. 11.20 ruined that possibility for me.

I mean, not that I didn't feel that way going back to 5.22 already, long before we had canon confirmation of the fact in text, but 11.20 sealed the deal for me, and I just can't see him as ever having been anyone but God.

He was just... way too invested in his OC, you know? If it had just been some vessel he'd occupied, or some transitive power of him as God being able to take over the vessels of his prophets (like we saw him do with Donatello in s15 for a hot minute when he used him like a sock puppet), I don't know that he'd have been so personally invested in the persona of Chuck.

But he wanted people to call him Chuck. He worked HARD on "making Chuck." And he wanted people to feel Chuck was relatable. I don't honestly think he would've cared, wouldn't have bothered carrying on with the Chuck facade once his cover was blown unless that was his chosen form all along, you know?

Like... he could've still had Rob Benedict's super cute face but dropped Chuck's personality and mannerisms. He could've been "really God" in every respect. But Metatron had to basically pry him out of that persona, and STILL didn't really succeed. He was still "playing Chuck" in s15 with Amara, with Becky... even with Sam and Dean.

So no, I think he was in deep cover, playing into his own game. I mean, the creation of Chuck was the start of the Supernatural series, right? The inciting incident in canon that began the book series in canon, and started interfering with the Winchesters' lives from the pilot episode of the show we watched.

While I'm fascinated by theories that he may have just been a prophet named Chuck Shurley (I mean even his NAME literally means "I am a man, surely," like what kind of ridiculous ott author names his self-insert character the equivalent of "hey I'm just a guy! I swear! trust me! nothing to see here folks! a man just like you guys!"), I find it hard to credit personally.

[zorelle]

Open letter to: @ilarual

Subject: secret good spn in my head on God, Amara, Castiel and Death

Hi! so I wanted to say.... I read this post and this other post that you made and I was screaming while reading them bc they contain a lot of what I've been thinking around my own mental secret good spn rewrite (I dont write Idk what Im gonna do with it but I feel the need to imagine it so, anyway) and I am in awe at how many simmilarities I share with you, like my thoughts are in a notebook and some post-its but there are a lot on the same issues with the same ideas and arriving at very much the same conclusions as what you posted but you actually wrote them coherently D: and I'm so excited and a little freaked out. But anyway I wanted to share some related stuff I had on my notes to see if they interest you.

This is, ok im so sorry I attacked you with this huge thing, this is a very long post, but I´m truly like truuuuly excited and I´ve been thinking all afternoon if I should talk to you if you´d be interested or annoyed and I decided to message you but couldn´t so im posting it. If nothing comes from this, just know I really loved your posts and theories and I´m... a fan. lol Ok.

So in my version of spn I know it would end with the same villain, like they would end up going against God. So I’m at the worldbuilding to make sense of first, how we get there, wanting to go against God and second, how to face literally GOD.

So as Ive thought of it is GOD/Chuck as an energy of influence and controlled/authored creation and S/the darkness/Amara as a representation of the entropy and balance in chaos/multiple possibilities. Gods would be the beginning, S would be the end. Both energies are necessary for a universe to exist, and gods are like the ones that mostly create and control, while "S/darknesses" come to be the chaos, points of equilibrium and endings of it. A universe then, is a conversation between energies and the media for that conversation to happen is like... the mathematics. The space/time fabric of a universe, In my head I name it the mathematics. Anyway.

So I'm thinking about "Chuck" as a God who becomes fascinated by stories. Who notices how stories are in microlevel almost the same exercise of creation as universes, but with imagination/ideas as the media, there's less input from chaos or chance, and so I think of a God that, as Lucifer puts it, is obsessed with humans, specifically bc he wants to replicate this curated way of creation, so he understands he no longer wants a conversation with other energies, he wants full creative control. But as he needs S to start and fuel some very necessary parts of the mathematics, he needs to trap that S energy on a liminal level that's both inside and outside of the universe. That’s how Amara gets trapped after they set and start this particular universe, we dont know for how long bc in my version of things the archangel encasing is a story by Chuck not as a programmer (like the videogames analogy you use) but as a writer, and writers lie. I have another thing about how Lucifer (as a couple other villains) is a character based on his own relationship with S/Amara.

What I´ve thought about God, concerning the loopholes where S can interfere is that he wakes her up when he inserts himself in the story, and that's his first mistake. In my version he takes hold of the original Chuck Shurley in Lucifer Rising and ok this is where our ideas diverge a little, he thinks he resurrects Cas along with entering his former prophet's body, bc he has been thinking about it like you said, like he was wondering if he should bring him back at any point, so when it turns out Cas is alive is like "huh guess I did it when I became Chuck" like he thought of that as his own glitch but in my reality, he wakes up the S and this yang energy is immediately up to date and understands this fallen angel is an oportunity, an agent of chaos needed to start taking control from God.

So in my take, S wakes up when Lucifer rises and God gets himself inside the mathematic as Chuck. S begins to crack the code on the universe created, and starts making glitches of freedom in the set characters the story has that either have a code peculiar enough to crack or write bugs in, or by the characters that are channels to her energy (or at some point served as a replacement of hers while she's been trapped and asleep/unable to move). Castiel would be the first case, an opening for a glitch to freedom, he would also be the first crack of the code and by having that little glitch inside he would eventually become a recognized creator of free will and something Chuck needs to eliminate. Death, on the other hand, would be the second case, a channel for that necessary entropy that as you put it, is not under God´s control, but is also not completely free.

So in my version that glitch stays with Cas but Death is also recognizing Gods influence and despotism, while also sensing Cas as a rogue element with an energy Death resonates with and senses inside him so he doesn't fix it he doesnt kill him he disobeys God, pays attention, lets the feeling grow and begins to understand. So ok this is what I wanted to share with you as a canon compliant idea: God decides to kill death and make this new rule to make a reaper the new death, so he can in his mind, reset the code, regain control and kill Cas for good, bc he feels something shifting too and wants to stop it before something concerning happens, but Death knows things at this point, one of the things he knows is he has to die there and so he goes to his own demise playing along with the two Winchester boys, as the only way allowed by this tainted universe mathematics to release the true S, like Lilith was the last seal to release Lucifer, is for Death to die, which gives the necessary world-crack to release Amara.

S/Amara on her part, has to play by the games in this story/universe and so to break the in-universe wall she has to also be in the mathematic, she clings to that baby and takes humanoid form and is named Amara. But since it's a double trap (the liminal space both inside and outside) she now can affect the in-universe but still cant escape it. She can only be free once that universe ends, and there are rules to that ending so thats the set up to make her a goddes villain dealing with human perception as soon as she´s out and then an ally that´s not as powerfull as God himself in the final fight. It also sets the logic on why Jack could definitely defy God and eventually overpower him, bc he contains enough of both energies and therefore is the promise both of a future and of an end.

[spnfanficpond]

Pond Diving - emilyshurley

Welcome to today’s Pond Diving Spotlight! We hope that you enjoy this little insight to our members and perhaps even find some useful tips for your own writing. Happy reading!

Want to volunteer, send us an ask! We’re looking forward to learning more about all of you! Not sure what PD is, you can learn more here.

Name: Emily

Age: 21

Location: India

URL: @emilyshurley​

Why did you choose your URL: Okay this is embarrassing. I was trying to sign up for AO3, so I did a quick Google search for two things, what's the name of Dean's daughter? Emma, and Chuck's last name, Shurley

I accidentally typed Emma as Emily and that's it. 

There was a very real chance that my url would have been emmashurley. Thoughts on that one? Maybe I'll change it someday. 

What inspired you to become a writer: Being an only child who wasn't allowed to watch tv for more than 2 hours. And not having friends, that also had something to do with it. 

How long have you been writing: Fanfiction? 4 years (was on Wattpad before this). In general? 12 years, I guess... I remember showing my first short story to my english teacher in 6th class. 

What do you do when you are not writing i.e. Job/Hobbies etc? Cooking, eating what I made. I don't get to cook often so I enjoy it when I can. Other than that, college takes up most of my time. Currently getting my bachelor's degree in science. It's my last year, will probably get master's in zoology next. 

How long have you been in the SPN Fandom? 4 years

Are you in any other fandoms and do you write for them? Way too freaking many. But I write for marvel and I'm thinking of re-posting the very first vampire diaries fanfic I wrote. But are people still into vampires?

Do you do any writing outside of fanfiction? If so, tell us about it? Mostly journalling, but I occasionally take part in writing competitions and things.

Favorite published author: Amish Tripathi (He mainly writes Hindu mythological fantasy? If that's anyone's jam here)

Have you ever read a book that made an impact on your life? Which one and why?: Leap of faith by Danielle Steel. Not for any reason other than the fact that it was the first novel I ever read. My grandfather was reading it, and I told him I wanted to read something too so he gave it to me. 

Favorite genre of fanfic (smut, angst, fluff, crack, rpf, etc):Platonic fluff!!!! Give me all the fics of best friends being adorable. 

Favorite piece of your own writing: Once upon a Winchester. But I gave myself so little canon to work with that I think I'll continue it after the show ends. I have to know the ending to continue it. 

Most underrated fic you have written: Letters to no one. For any marvel fans, it's a two part fic in Natasha's POV, just some letters she thought no one will ever read. 

Story of yours that you’d most like to see turned into a movie/tv show: Project Latrodectus, again marvel. I kinda feel bad for mentioning my marvel fics so much but I'm pulling influences from the story of Eklavya in Mahabharata, which is a Hindu epic so complex that I won't attempt to explain it here. 

Favorite Tumblr Writer(s): Ahh that's a tough one. I love so many people. At this point, mentioning Myin ( @myinconnelly1 ) feels like cheating because another who has ever looked at my posts can tell she's my favourite human. So I'll try not to mention her further. 

Otherwise, Beka ( @impala-dreamer), Kate ( @katehuntington​ ), @katymacsupernatural and other hoomans I can't remember because I have been away from Tumblr for a while. 

Favorite Fic from another writer: Blood and Honey by @kittenofdoomage. And the proposal by @katymacsupernatural

Favorite character to write: Marvel: Natasha Romanoff, Supernatural: I have never written Charlie but I'd love to. 

Favorite Pairing to write: So they are platonic ships but Dean and Charlie, the boys and Garth and Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff. 

Least favorite character to write (and why): Easily John Winchester. I don't know, my brain just can't process his character. Like no matter how many times I try, John just sounds off. 

Do you have anyone you consider a mentor? Irl, my grandfather. On tumblr, Myin. I know, I know I said I won't mention her but Myin is my support system here. No matter what goes on in my brain, no idea is too crazy for her. 

Do you have any aspirations involving your writing? To make people feel less alone because I think that feels like shit. My goal moving forward is to write more Indian reader and LGBTQ reader fics because I think not many people in the fandom (that I know of) are writing those fics. 

How many work-in-progress stories do you have: Four, all of them are series. Technically 2 are my ongoing ones. And one is an MCU x SPN crossover that's taking a while to plan. 

What are you currently working on? Nothing focusing on college these days. But will write random one shots here and there.

“Pond Diving” - All About The Writing

What/who has had the biggest influence on your writing? My inability to write romance. No joke, I don't feel like I write it well. So I tend to write general fics and crack fics.

Best writing advice you've been given: Someone recommended the book, writing down the bones, to me a while ago. In the very first chapter it says, use a cheap notebook (so you don't feel guilty about 'bad writing') and a fast writing pen. 

Since most of my non fanfic writings are done by hand I like that advice.

Biggest obstacle you’ve faced in your writing: Procrastination. I'm the creator of my one misery here. I push stuff till the last moment then complain about being too busy to do anything. 

What aspects of writing do you find difficult when you write fanfiction?Smut. I can't. I don't know I like to say I don't feel comfortable writing it but the truth is I just think I'd put people off. Which is not the intended outcome. 

Is there anything you want to write but are afraid to (and why): More LGBTQ+ characters/reader inserts. Why? Say for example, even though I'm bi, but my version of bisexual Dean might not be something other people would relate to and I'm scared of accidentally offending someone. 

What inspires/motivates you to write: What if scenarios. I love speculating and coming up with the context behind what we see on screen. Like an idea that I'll one day use is, what was Sam going when Dean was in hell or purgatory. Sure in one case he hit a dog and met a girl but how? 

So I want to write more general fics or like filler between the scenes we see on the screen. 

How do you deal with self doubt: By talking to people, knowing I'm not alone in this helps. And sending fics to friends before I post them. 

How do you deal with writer's block: Play the sims. What I mean is take a break, do something completely different for a while. 

Do you plan/outline your story before you start: I don't, for one shots. For series I have to have an ending or else I'll lose interest very quickly. 

Do you have any weird writing habits: Would you consider writing/planning things on paper before writing it on the computer weird? 

Have you ever received hateful comments on your fic and how do you deal with it? I did. My very first fic on Tumblr. It was a Tony Stark x Indian!Reader fic and someone messaged me saying most content media is written for an American/Western audience. And that Tony Stark would never actually do for someone who's Indian because well Indian characters aren't primarily present in the MUC. So no one wants to read it. 

What I did about it? I deleted the fic and every backup I had of it. Because in my head they were right. All Indian get is Bruce Banner doing charity work for "all the poor Indians".

It wasn't until recently that I started talking to @desisamslut that I realised that people actually want to read about reader inserts that are like them. I mean it's called a reader insert for a reason how could I not see it?

Conversely: what’s been some of your favorite feedback on your fanfic?When someone made a mood board for my Black Widow fanfiction. 

If you could give one piece of advice to a new and/or struggling writer, what would it be? Hang in there, no matter how uncommon you think what you want to write about is, you'll find an audience. I mentioned @desisamslut in another answer, the first thing she told me was she has never seen an indian reader fic, so she felt happy when she read the one I wrote recently. 

[wendibird]

I have a theory about Chuck and it relates to Amara, and I thought I'd air it here as well. My first thoughts on it arose from pondering Amara wearing that Sun Yellow suit and the fact that she's obviously changed some since we last saw her.

Okay, so, think of God and the Darkness as a ying-yang symbol. One is mostly dark with a little hint of light and the other is light with a little hint of dark. What if they're not just in balance because they want to be, but their very natures require them to be?

Amara has gotten "lighter", more good since we last saw her. And even at the end of S11 she was taking an upwards swing. What if that shifting balance within her caused an equal and opposite shift of balance within Chuck? What if it brought out his more narcissistic tendencies? So, he hasn't been putting on a act the whole time since his first appearance, he really has changed since last we'd seen him?

(Which for me anyway, would make it easier to appreciate episodes like Swan Song and Don't Call Me Shurley again.)

[drsilverfish]

The Triffid of Hope and the Stop-Watch of Despair - 15x09 The Trap

Hey everone,

I’m just catching up British time, as usual, and getting down my initial thoughts before I jump in and see what you’ve all been up to.

The much-anticipated Purgatory prayer episode - here we go!

First off - Chuck is a lying liar who lies, and also, how bad was his vamp Winchester bros script?! We know it’s a script, because he asks Sam - “So, what d’ya think?” writer-style, after AU!Bobby executes Vamp!Sam. I thought Bobo did great work here, distinguishing (for us) between his own writing and Chuck’s sucky (ha ha) vamp-Chesters ending. And oh boy, does Bobo torch the “Butch and Sundance going out together in blaze of glory” SPN scenario, because it’s one of Chuck’s shitty versions. I think we can rest assured we’re not gonna get that! 

“All good things must come to an end,” Chuck says, holding up a scalpel in the Lucky (pink) Elephant (in the room, ahem Destiel) Casino. Bobo’s meta way of telling us that yes, of course, there is pain to be endured (by us) along the way, before our heroes get their freedom. Pain, because Supernatural, our favourite show, is ending.

I loved the double-structure of the episode, which balanced Sam and Eileen’s story with Dean and Cas’ story - past, present and future folded into one another; see-sawing between the twin axes of hope and despair. 

The Triffid of Hope:

Isn’t this shot (and its symbolism) great? Dean is framed between the Purgatory-Triffid and the awesome three-eyed skull of a dead Leviathan (the “third eye”, in Indian spiritual traditions, symbolising higher self-knowledge).

Leviathan dude: “There’s a blossom, that grows out of the soil when we die.”

Ah-ha - I knew all the death symbolism in Michael’s God-locking spell had to mean something. It just didn’t happen the way I thought it would (Cas dying in Purgatory).

Instead, the Leviathan blossom is a monster-corpse feeding flower - it grows from death. And so it is a perfect metaphor for hope, linked to all the old vegetation Gods (like Osiris, like the myth of Persephone) as well as to those heroic underworld journeys, of Gilgamesh and Orpheus and Inanna which @prairiedust and I were talking about previously in relation to Purgatory 2.0. Because, from death, springs new life (just as Spring follows Winter) and from an underworld journey comes deeper self-knowledge and psychic growth (a la Jung). 

On a meta level, this is Bobo’s message to us too - yes the show has to “die”, but who knows what new and wondrous things will be born from its “corpse”. 

Dean was previously the one, of the two Winchester brothers, who’d lost hope as result of the “Welcome to the End” revelations about Chuck’s active machinations in their lives. Dean was the one who couldn’t figure out what was real especially his relationship with Cas:

Dean: “I can’t figure out what’s God and what’s real, and it’s driving me crazy” (15x06 Golden Time). 

He was the one who’d said (as emphasised in this week’s re-cap): “It’s God, Sam... How the Hell are we supposed to fight God?” (15x05 Proverbs 17:3). 

But, in Purgatory 2.0, Dean got his hope back. 

Why? 

We already know why, from watching Dean pivot from suicidal in 13x05 Advanced Thanatology, to happy cowboy cosplay in 13x06 Tombstone, as soon as he got Cas back from death. Cas is intimately tied to Dean’s sense of faith and hope.

And in Purgatory 2.0, Dean finally finds (some of) his words and gets his relationship with Cas back on track, and in so doing, he recovers that faith and hope. 

Hence that shot of him lying between death (the Leviathan skull) and the Triffid of Hope. Because Dean’s underworld journey to Purgatory 2.0 brings clarity to hs heart, just as it did last time. In Purgatory 1.0, “It felt pure”; in Purgatory 1.0, Dean’s mission was, “Where’s the angel?” In Purgatory 1.0, Dean let himself love Cas again (as I’ve said before) without guilt, despite the things Godstiel/ Levi!Cas had done, to Sam, and to the world.

In Purgatory 2.0, Dean (just like Sam, in the parallel story) is on the clock. Time is ticking - the rift Michael opened is finite:

 And so, in losing Cas for several frantic hours as the clock runs out, Dean finds clarity, just as he did before, and he prays (on his knees no less):

Dean: “Cas, whereever you are, it’s not too late. I should have stopped you. You’re my best friend, but I just let you go...”

And Dean cries as he prays, and there is absolutely no doubt, in those tears, and in that apology, that he loves Cas (although the text continues to embrace ambiguity as to the nature of that love). 

Imagine - Dean must also be reliving the last time they were in Purgatory together, when Cas actively chose to stay behind, which broke Dean’s heart so much he re-wrote his own memory. In the land of monsters once more, Dean is, finally, terrified it’s all going to happen again (because he pushed Cas away this time). 

As a romantic love-story, of course, it’s still subtext. The glass-closet still structures the narrative. We still get the plausible deniability “bromance” of; “Cas, you’re my best friend.”

And you know, it’s totally OK to feel disappointed, heart-sore, stricken or enraged about that. Nothing throws the heteronormativity of our world more into relief than watching Sam have a beautiful and tender kiss with Eileen (and I totally buy and love their relationship) when their love-story has had a tenth of the back-story and build-up that exists between Dean and Cas, whilst Dean and Cas get a hug (albeit a clearly very emotional one):

I think “queerbaiting” is, partly, a receiver-effect. Meaning, it’s partly subjective. So, some people may feel “queer-baited” by the show and others may not. It’s certainly perfectly legitimate to feel the pain of the closet, of almost-but-not-quite representation (and many queer fans have left the show over the years for that reason). The definition of “queerbaiting” however, is complex (and needs its own post). 

For myself, I absolutely do feel the pain of the closet, but I don’t feel a sense of “bad faith” from the writers’ room (and I used to). I certainly trust in Bobo, whose first episode was that paean to break-up angst, 9x06 Heaven Can’t Wait, to be telling Dean and Cas’ love-story as truly, madly and deeply as he can, within the constraints imposed by TPTB (the fact that also happens to suit TPTB is another level we won’t get into here). 

Because isn’t this the face of a man who had something else to say, when Cas cut him off with, “You don’t have to say it - I heard your prayer” ????

The Stop-Watch of Despair:

Chucks’ mission in 15x09 is to crush Sam’s hope, even as Dean is re-gaining his own hope in Purgatory. 

Chuck does that in two ways. First, he makes Sam and Eileen doubt how much of their love story is real, as he tells them he nudged Eileen’s resurrection along and then used her (unwittingly) to spy on the Bunker.

When Eileen leaves Sam, at the end of the episode, she says: “After what happened, I don’t know what’s real anymore..” 

Obviously, that is paralleled to Dean’s previous doubt about his relationship with Cas, which Cas answered expllicity in 15x02 Raising Hell (although Dean couldn’t take it in at the time):

Dean: “Nothing about our lives is real. Everything that we've lost, everything that we are is because of Chuck. So maybe you can stick your head back in the sand, maybe you can pretend that we actually had a choice. I can't.”

Castiel: “Dean. You asked, "What about all of this is real?" We are.”

Sam plays Cas’ part (but it’s his own part too - I don’t want to reduce Sam and Eileen to mere parallels for Dean and Cas - their story is their own) when he kisses Eileen and says, “I know that was real,” (so, he’s able to hold onto a little hope, after all - go Sam!):

Second, Chuck makes Sam doubt the possibility of a happy ending, for the Winchesters, for the people they love, and, importantly, for the world. If they succeed in locking Chuck away, Chuck claims, Sam and Dean will die as vampires, and monsters will overrun the earth:

We can see here, that Metatron  was right, in 11x20 Don’t Call Me Shurley, when he said to Chuck, of humanity: “They are your greatest creation because they're better than you are.”

Because Chuck manages to get to Sam, psychologically, only because Sam cares, with all his heart, about the fate of the world and all the people in it. 

This is where the time-construction of the episode gets clever. Because, the future-Dean, who Sam sees, has lost hope again. And why? This is the face of a man who has locked Mark-of-Cain crazed Castiel in a Ma’lak box (and don’t forget S14 established the Ma’lak box as a closet metaphor):

And oh damn, we see Cas take on the Mark as part of the God-trapping spell in the “Trifffid of Hope” portion of the story. Does he still have it now, even though Chuck destroyed the spell?

Chuck shows Sam an (apparent) future in which the brother who raised him, has abandoned all hope, which is the true definition of Hell (”Abandon all hope, ye who enter here” - Dante’s Inferno) and that is the other psychological lever Chuck uses to get Sam to despair. His faith in Eileen is shaken, and his faith in Dean is shaken.  

Chuck clearly admires Sam. He almost treats him as a worthy antagonist. He refers to him as “Promethean” and “heroic”, and, in a sense, perhaps he genuinely means it. But, of course, it’s also part of his ploy to destroy Sam’s hope. Prometheus, after all, got his liver eaten out by eagles on the regular, sent by the chief God of Olympus himself, Zeus (aka Chuck) for his pains.

Chuck (to Sam): “You still think you’re the hero of this story. You still think you can win.”

And Chuck succeeds (temporarily) in destroying Sam���s hope, by making him doubt the reality of his love with Eileen, and by making him doubt that his big brother will have the hope necessary to “Carry on my wayward sons,” in the future (all the more believable because Sam has, in fact, seen Dean lose hope before when he’s lost Cas).

But what changes, monumentally, at the end of the episode, is that Dean doesn’t blame Sam. He just says, “That’s good enough for me,” about Sam’s assertion he believed in the Chuck-in-the-Cage future Chuck showed him, and, “We’ll find another way.”

Dean brought the Leviathan blossom of hope back from Purgatory, and with it, deeper self-knowledge about how he has taken his feelings of helplessness out, as anger, against the people he loves best (Sam and Cas). This time, he doesn’t do that. For Team Free Will, once all together again, The Triffid of Hope wins out over The Stopwatch of Doom. 

Just as it’s right, on a psychological level, that locking Chuck in a cage isn’t a viable solution - because external cages are metaphors for the prisons of the mind. Team Free Will’s heroic and metaphysical journey through the realms of the God-machine is also a journey towards emotional wholeness, and freedom from the psychological prisons of their past.  

And so, to conclude, this episode (my favourite of Bobo’s since his first) is filled with love.... and love. 

The Winchester brothers’ love for one another, we see, undoubtedly, in Sam’s narrative. But that’s also interesting, because again, Chuck misses Cas out of the story - and so ends up with a bros-only Butch and Sundance ending. And Bobo emphasises Chuck’s version is stuck in “toxic co-dependency” - because it’s the two of them, as Vampchesters, as monsters, going out together against the world - specifically against even their own friends, Bobby and Jodie. Now there’s a potent metaphor. By contrast, a healthy Sam and Dean relationship allows the loving presence of others.   

And there we have it -  the.. and love (precisely, the loving presence of others) in the love between Sam and Eileen (whose faith in that love, Chuck has deliberately shaken, for now) paralleled to the love between Dean and Cas (whose faith has been restored in Purgatory, for now).

Bobo clearly shows us that hope is the key to defeating Chuck, because it is only when Sam loses hope that Chuck is free of the God-wound. 

And love is hope, because to love is to be hopeful - to be hopeful that you will be loved back, that love will endure, that a future with your loved ones is possible and so, worth fighting for. 

Supernatural has always, always (as we all well know) been about the “power of love” (despite Dean’s doubt in 5x18 Point of No Return). 

In the end both the Triffid of Hope and the Stop-Watch of God-Time will converge, ending God-Time and granting true freedom for Chuck’s “characters”.