#sam and dean are psychopaths

[clonedadplo]

Y'all remember that one time Sam and Dean couldn't figure out what to do so Dean just impulsively burned an entire house down?

Cause I do.

Can't be haunted if it's reduced to ashes right boys?

Unfuckingbelievable

Sam's clear distress over the whole situation is 10/10

He looks be at about %10, "Will this even really solve the problem?" and about %90 "Dean what in the actual fuck?"

And then it just pans up and away like this was just another difficult decision the Winchesters had to make but that at least there was a resolution (neither of which applies).

Wow. Dean's a trip.

[shadystranger]

this moment so fucked up💀

[scoobydoodean]

I see this held up as major proof of Dean's badness, but couldn't it also be proof of Cas having faith Dean can get past anything without Cas having to change his behavior? The way it's structured the onus is on DEAN to work through it, not others to change or make amends. ---- CASTIEL: You know, Dean, he – he feels things more acutely than any human I've ever known. So it's possible he could work through this. One day, he may explode and let it all out and breathe deeply and move on.

I see what you mean in a general sense, and it's extremely possible that Cas is thinking about his own past fights with Dean and Dean forgiving him, and from the perspective of the critique you have in mind that you're refuting, I agree. But of course deancrit casgirls will forever insist that Cas has never in his life done anything harmful to Dean either accidentally or on purpose, so any time Dean might dare try to hold him accountable for anything, he's actually just making shit up and being toxic and controlling, so here Cas is just apologizing for his own abusive relationship. You can only get their take by being deliberately obtuse/disingenuous.

That said, the context of that line (from 15.13 "Destinty's Child") is Cas answering soulless Jack's question about whether Dean will eventually forgive him for murdering Mary.

CASTIEL: Hey, Jack. JACK: Cas, you know what's good about being dead? CASTIEL: Uh, as I recall, very little. JACK: Well, when you come back, you – you really get into all that life is. Hot, cold, sweet, spicy, funny, scary. CASTIEL: And are you? "Into it"? JACK: I want to be. But I don't... feel things the way I used to. Before I lost my... CASTIEL: Your soul. JACK: I used to feel things. In my bones. It was glorious, and sometimes unbearable. But I felt them. Now, I understand joy or sadness, but... I know those things aren't in me. I understand why Sam and Dean were angered by what happened to Mary... CASTIEL: By what you did to Mary. JACK: Yes. I see that I've caused them pain. And it's clear that things have changed. Especially with – with Dean. Will he ever forgive me? CASTIEL: You know, Dean, he – he feels things more acutely than any human I've ever known. So it's possible he could work through this. One day, he may explode and let it all out and breathe deeply and move on. JACK: How long will that take? CASTIEL: I don't know.

And yeah—I have seen people refer to Cas's little speech here as "condoning child abuse" and other bullshit. Because how DARE Dean not forgive soulless Jack for murdering his mother (something soulless Jack is unable to actually really acknowledge he did). I mean clearly any time someone murders your mom because she made them mad and threatened their sense of security by asking if they're okay and saying their concerning actions can’t stay a secret… That’s just natural understandable stuff! You need to forgive the person who murdered her instantly and if you don’t idk you’re kinda overreacting don’t you think? :/ I mean your mom probably deserved it kind of anyway for reading the room so wrong and talking about getting a person help. And I mean if you don't forgive the person who killed your mom or do anything trying to stop them from hurting more people you're really a child abuser... toward an adult... who murdered your mother in cold blood and is unable to even understand why it was wrong in any sense other than an intellectual one like he read it from a book... preferring to refer to it as "What happened to Mary" instead of acknowledge it as something he himself did because he was mad and felt threatened—which is what he circled back to in "Jack In The Box" too. It's only when Jack gets his soul back that he's able to actually feel true empathy, acknowledge his real actions and the gravity of them, and give an actual sincere apology. Because his soul is actually important—something this fandom refuses, by and large, to notice.

Anyway, this fandom's take on Mary's murder and soulless Jack vs. regular Jack is overwhelmingly a bag of wet third grader vomit and feces so what can one expect?

[deancoded-deangirl]

Zachariah was an underrated villain, imo. Dude was fucking bananas in the way that a real estate agent who snaps one day would be.

[loving-family-poll]

Ultimate Incest Tournament - Semifinals

Propaganda under the cut:

Sam/Dean:

I'm sorry but they have it all. children of metaphorical incest just continuing the cycle in any way they can. they are brothers and mother + son and wives and each other's scorned lovers and life partners they've had multiple infidelity arcs they are sexually psychopathic together they have forsook life and morality and the earth itself for each other and just love each other so much . They are literally in a heaven of their own making together for eternity, incestuously. Come on!!! Blueprint!!!!! It's not gay if he's your brother!!!!!

dean did stuff to sam's dead body in ahbl. i just know it

Messed-up, isolated sibs with all the daddy and abandonment issues. Their lives are so claustrophobic with the brothers no more than five feet apart in the car, a motel room, or standing next to civilians (face it, they are frigging magnets). Can't leave out that they are always touching each other to check for wounds which is a huge PLUS for any shipper.

Sam and Dean ARE literally the blowjob brothers. They walk into a situation and everyone goes well well well if it isn't the blowjob brothers....... And they say. Yep. That's us. And then they fix the situation with their epic love story

THE classic, iconic, show shopping, never done before etc. etc. incest ship. It changed fandom and it changed the world

Dave/Rose:

Daverose blondetwin sweep because they were codependent without ever meeting from growing up seeing each other in their dreams

What does it mean to be an abused teenage boy growing up alone and seeing a girl in your dreams every night who is also your best friend. and when you finally meet her you go on a suicide mission together even though nobody was asking you to die with her. and then you are the only two human beings left in the recognizable universe on a cold meteor surrounded by aliens but you’re glad it’s with her. and when you finally touch the girl from your childhood dreams she looks exactly like you. because she’s your sister

I don't have words for how good these snarky assholes are together. DaveRose is brain chemistry changing. They both put up so many fronts, and engage in so much snarky wordplay, and are constantly trying to get under each other's facade. They play off each other so well, witty and sharp, I need them to be together always

We all die & we all die alone are the two cold truths of the universe but dave and rose broke both simultaneously by ascending to godhood together

Their twincest wins because it is just so confusingly tragic? profound? dave leaving rose behind in a doomed world, dave following her to the bomb. they are both so closed & cut off & curt its hard to imagine the depth of these things. but that is their love language: giving up their lives for each other over and over, in a confusing and fumbling and heartfelt love song. i can’t say i love you but i know we’ll die together anyway. because we’re made of the exact same stuff. i’ll find you again at the last moment. that’s love.

THEY DIED TOGETHER, YOUR HONOR

Confirmed canon by the author, (something happened) between them. Parallels of dying by each other's sides in EVERY timeline. They are THE womb-to-tomb. There is nothing platonic about winking at your brother while talking about crushes, that shit is incestuous. Seer/Knight archetype. They will die protecting each other.

do you realize love someone if you don’t follow them on a suicide mission into the gaping maw of a literal fucking sun after they knock you out and psychoanalyze you in your dreams? the blueprint of the “ethereal androgynous blonde boygirl twins” trope. witch/knight dynamics. they find each other to die together in every timeline no matter what (but they’re still emotionally constipated teenagers who bicker and make fun of each other in pesterchum). kids with grown-up powers. perfect little freaks of nature. what if we looked exactly like each other’s eyes

[cianfries-stuff]

funny how sam and dean hate (and want dead) each other’s supernatural friends, like amy and benny, even though at other times in the show they were both willing to let other creatures live—even ones they didn’t know

really makes you wonder if the fact that they’re monsters is actually the reason they hate them, or if they’d also want to kill each other’s human loved ones if they could get away with it without looking like codependent psychopaths

[hexedwinchester]

Supernatural characters I wish we saw more of

Over the weekend I made a post about characters I thought either overstayed their welcome or shouldn't have been created at all.. this is opposite of that! Some characters that were only around for a short while but made an ever lasting impression..

Jessica Moore: I'm sorry, you are telling me, the love of Sam's life was only around for 3 episodes? Hell no! We were robbed of Stanford era Sam, we were robbed of SamJess meet cute!! So robbed! Their chemistry was so instant, even Eileen didn't have the same chemistry with Sam. I'm forever SamJess shipper!!

Meg 1.0: she was badass, cruel, ruthless and i loved her for that. None of that soppy Rachel Miner crap about unicorns and pizza man bullshit. RIP Nicki Aycox, you were amazing

Gordon Walker: he was one of those characters that I loved to hate! A complete psychopath. I needed his cat and mouse game with Sam to last a little longer. He gave me creeps!

that creepy doc from Time is on My Side who harvested organs to be immortal. C'mon so much happened since they buried him alive. You are telling me, he didn't escape ? No! Not buying it. Give me my organ harvesting Hannibal vibe of a creepy doc!

Hellhounds: funny how after s8, everyone just forgot about hellhounds. Remember how terrifying they were? Yeah, what happened?! Needed boys fighting more of those every time they went strolling into hell

Cain: I felt his character was left unexplored. Don't give me a retired, beekeeper. I needed to see the father of murder in the flesh. Timothy was so great, it's a shame they never tapped that potential. We didn't even get a taste of the real Cain

Magda: fuck you, Ketch for killing her. You should rot in hell. She was so interesting and sad. Kinda like a parallel to Sam. Sam and her should have bonded over psychic trauma. I needed someone in Sam's corner. She needed Sam in hers

Pamela: what? She was cool and super useful unlike 80% of the characters that were only around because of you know what. She was funny, bold and brazen. I liked that about her. It was nice to see in the later seasons

Balthazar: probably the only angel I like. Again, funny and far more useful than the others

Victor Henriksen: I know he came across as a hardass but he was just doing his job. He would have been a good ally to the boys in case they needed a cop on their side

Bonus- OG Death: gave me shivers! None of that Billy bullshit. She was annoying. I loved OG Death. He had a class, a taste and that haunting appearance one associates with death. We needed more of him, taunting Dean or being itchy to reap Sam!!

Anyone else wants to extend the list?

[witsserviceablesubstitute]

The evil versions of team free will were great and could've each had a proper arc.

Soulless Sam was ruthless but also a bit adorably clueless and had an epic pout when something wasn't going his way. It would've been cool to delve further into what it meant for Sam to be without empathy or instinct— which are two of his defining characteristics. I disagree he wouldn't care. He would but it'd be selfish and self-serving and compulsive. Sam is obsessive, a psychopathic version of him would've been more so.

Demon Dean was a chaotic evil version of Dean and God Castiel a lawful evil version of Cas. Dean and Castiel are both in a constant struggle towards striving to be good. Trying to understand what it even means to be good. Unlike Sam who's comfortable existing in shades of grey, and has had to be, Dean and Castiel wish the world were black and white because they are chained down by all the guilt and doubt the grey leaves them with. Their evil versions are them without the chains. Demon Dean embraces being evil, is exhilarated by it, because of its simplicity, and Godstiel is all Castiel's pride and domineering stubbornness magnified by deified conviction— no room for doubt.

Each should've been the main big bad villain of their respective season in my opinion.

[heartthrobin]

round and round the garden (1)

sam winchester x fairy!reader

wc: 4.7k

warnings: soulmate!au (partners share scars), fem!reader, limited use of y/n, timeline is foggy but we’re working with s8 sam lookwise, reader is a creature, implied age gap (reader is early 20's), reader is uber tooth-rottingly sweet, highkey dumbification of sam winchester, references to thick reader (everyone cheered) but can be ignored, dean being dean, destiel is canon, animals, canon warnings (child kidnapping, violence ect.)

an: literally just wanted to write something fantastical and cutesy so here it is !!! this is part 1 of (probably) 4 :))) let me know if you want to be added to taglist <33 love y’all

summary: the case was bizarre, but no aspect more so than the “witch” at the end of town with the prettiest goddamn face Sam had ever seen and the long pink scar up her arm that matched his own.

part two part three part four

The house wasn't big.

If Sam could really call it a house.

It was more like a cottage, reminding him of children's illustrated stories he never had the childhood to read. Of picnics and fireplaces.

The cottage dazzled like a water colour painting: green shrubbery seeping into every corner of the canvas, with lush pink and orange and yellow fruit speckled across the page.

Creeping around it, wrapping it's branches over the house like an arboreal hug: was the largest tree Sam had ever laid eyes on. The trunk was almost as wide as the street they were parked on and it's leaves draped low over the windows peeking from inside. It stood like a monolith against the backdrop of the forest leering behind it.

The line of trees were inched back just enough to almost convince Sam that this tree, the one engulfing your cottage, made them nervous.

A stone footpath lead to the door.

"I-- looked away for just one minute ..." the woman was inconsolable.

Jenny Perez sobbed into the arm of her couch. Her sister leered in the doorway.

Sam and Dean watched her from the couch over.

"Ma'am," Sam stepped carefully. "We know this isn't easy, but are you sure you didn't see anything in the moments leading up to Manny's disappearance? Even anything ... strange?"

Washington State. Five kids. Two months. Missing.

Each snatched out their gardens where they played.

Sam and Dean had been in Illinois on the tail end of a wendigo hunt when the news of a sixth missing kid blew far enough across the country to land a tiny column on the front page of the Chicago Tribune.

Manny Perez (7) was taken from the backyard of his home this past Sunday night in Fernglade, Washington.

His mother, Jenny Perez (38), said she heard rustling in the bushes behind their house and her son laughing before going to take some food out of the oven. When she returned, her son had disappeared.

Sure it was a terrible story, but regardless, it didn’t arouse enough suspicion out of either Winchester to make it their problem. To convince them it was anything more than a 53-year old psychopath holding children in his basement.

Not until Dean found the entry. The one in John’s journal.

He’d been looking for a passage he swore was in there on wendigo hunting seasons when the ruggedly clipped article fell from between it’s pages.

“Sammy …” he’d flashed him the clip, “look familiar?”

Several articles actually: eight kids missing from the little town of Fernglade. Every Autumn, every twenty years out of some poor mother’s backyard. John had only scribbled one lonely note amongst all the newspaper staining: THE TREES

“No! It’s like I told the police … I just heard him laughing.” Her voice came out as broken shards between the heaving and the hands clutched close against her chest. “I thought I heard another child’s voice, but that was—”

“Jenny, enough.” Sandra Perez piped up from the doorway, clearly enflamed. She turned from her sister to face the brothers on the couch. “What my sister is refusing to consider, and what the rest of us know to be true, is that Manny was taken by that witch.”

“Hermana … she isn’t a witch—”

“A witch?” Dean’s calibre had twisted to intrigued.

“She lives on the edge of town. By the forestline.” Sandra’s arms were crossed tightly. “Jenny always used to let Manny go afternoons out there, God knows why—”

“A lot of the neighbourhood kids did too.” Jenny interrupted, desperate in her approach: hands outdrawn. “She’s not a … a witch. She’s a bit strange but the kids loved her and she was kind to them—”

“And now look. All those children are gone, Jenny.”

The woman deflated back into the couch again, her tear-soaked sleeves came up to find purchase against her cheeks again. They muffled a sob.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. Dean shrugged with a look that said “maybe?”

Dean turned to the sister, “What has you convinced that this woman is a witch?”

Sanda Perez looked affronted by the question. Like Dean had slapped her clean across the face.

“Oh! Well she’s … there’s always things burning at that house and people have said they’ve heard … like, chanting at night over there.” She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, grasping at the straws of gossip that had dripped down to her willing ears. “And her house is strange and she’s always in the forest at night when it’s unsafe. Who knows what … what rituals she’s doing out there!”

The brothers nodded. “Sure. Would you mind giving us that address?”

Now that Sam was faced with the house, getting his first view through the grimy passenger side window, he’d stray from the description of “strange”. He might have agreed that “enchanted” or “mystical” fit the description of the cottage better if he didn’t resent the magic clichés.

Dean’s finger pressed into the open journal page, tapping along the stained ink of John’s nearly illegible handwriting. THE TREES.

“Now that’s a tree if I’ve ever laid eyes on one.” He leaned over so his eyes could find the top of the tree from under the cover of the car.

Sam nodded. Something felt off when he watched the house, his stomach was twisting up past his other organs in his throat.

“I don’t know man …” his finger reached up to tug at the collar choking him at the neck. Maybe the fed suit wasn’t helping. “Something feels weird about this place.”

Dean scoffed loudly. He picked up the takeaway cup from the centre console, coffee long cold, and slugged the last of it down in one long sip. He surfaced again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Every place we go to is weird.” It was clear he didn’t share the sentiment. “I’m sure we’ve faced worse.”

He unbuckled his seatbelt.

“Well, come on. Let’s go meet this witch.”

Despite Sandra Perez’ less than convincing account of the “witch” at the end of town, it was still worth a visit to know who the townsfolk had decided was guilty in the matter of several counts of child kidnapping. How evil and vile of a person they must be.  

The air was crisp outside the car and the further they ventured up the path, the more delightful the aroma became. There was a thin string of smoke curling from behind the house, it carried a warm woody scent and the tussles of flowers lining the bannister of the porch was making Sam’s head spin happily. He managed a small smile.

“Nice garden.” He whispered offhand.

Dean seemed unconvinced, eyes flashing over the shrubbery with skepticism. “Yeah, well don’t get too close to anything. And don’t touch anything either.”

The door was tall, intimidating and clearly made of some fancy wood. It was slot between the white brick on the face of the house. The feeling from the car had only tripled on the walk up and Sam had his hand against his stomach. He could feel his blood rushing past his ears.

“Dean, I’m really not sure about—”

Dean’s fist connected with the door three times. Curt and professional, like a fed’s would be.  

There was an obvious shuffle behind the door, by then each beat of Sam’s heart was like a foghorn against his vibrating ribs and for a moment he was sure he was going to be sick.

Suddenly, there was sniffle by the foot of the door. A dog? And a voice, caressed gently by a giggle, ushering the animal away.

Sam’s brain was swelling too large for his head, the doorknob creaked from inside – his fists grew ice cold – with a soft grunt, the door was pulled ajar …

It stopped.

With a smile that knocked the wind clean out of Sam’s lungs, you greeted. “Good morning, gentlemen.”

Warmth flooded back in to his palms and the thumping of his head cooled to a dizzy buzz. The nausea subsided to a hot bubbling.

Your frame took up the doorway. It seemed to fizzle around the edges, glimmering like light off a rippling pond.

Sam’s eyes slipped down your body like warm coffee down his throat. Your face was gentle, eyes round and wet beneath a set of suffocatingly black eyelashes. Wide-set thighs rippled all the way down to soft calves and pink painted toenails.

A cream crochet top reached over the expanse of your shoulders, sloping down where the rugged sleeve edges hung off your palms, a sparkling green skirt flirted at the top of your thighs. It’s silk ruffles shivered with your every breath.

If he was momentarily able to lift his eyes from you, which he most definitely was not, maybe he'd notice how Dean didn't seem even moderately as amazed as he was. That might have been the first sign if he did.

"Good afternoon ma'am, I'm agent Alice. This is my partner agent Cooper." Dean dug out the FBI identification from his jacket pocket, flashing it casually. "We just have a few questions regarding some recent--"

"Oh please," you waved your hand airily, "No need for the semantics. I've been expecting you, lunch is out in the garden."

The sound of your voice was sending waves of warmth through his stomach. Like he was sipping hot cocoa at your every syllable.

The ID in Dean's hand wobbled, his face clenched in confusion. "I-- sorry, what?"

In the shift of Sam’s gaze back up your form, he came to find your eyes set on his.

You smiled again. His tongue felt heavy and half-formed words gurgled at the back of his throat: begging to be spat out.

“I-I’m–“

“I know who you are.”

Your eyes flickered back to Dean and Sam felt hollow at the loss of their warmth.

“Not every day you have the Winchesters at your door, now is it.” You finished, stepping aside to allow them in.

“You know who we are?” Dean’s cadence dropped warily, clearly spearheading the conversation where Sam was finding difficulty. But your figure was already disappearing into the darkness of the house.

Despite his sceptic tone, Dean stepped in quickly after you. Sam trailed behind.

The cottage was warm. At least that was Sam’s first thought.

It was quickly ribbed out the way by the sheer visual of the interior.

There wasn’t a single blank wall or spot on the floor uncovered by carpetry.

Rows of paintings and stacks of photographs lined the space between wooden countertops and cherry red couches. Persian rugs and indoor plants spilled from a technicolour mirage of pots.

Desks were cluttered with books, paint supplies abandoned still wet. A dusty chandelier.

But more striking than the portraits and the vinyls and the rugs and the botany textbooks, were the creatures.

“Just watch for Goose,” she waved vaguely at a moving creature that was quickly nearing Sam’s feet, avoiding Dean’s question. “He won’t bite but he will try lick you—”

For a moment, Sam connected that this had to be the dog at the door. But the dog, Goose, was hardly a dog at all. Only once he was licking a stripe up the strip of bare skin at Sam’s ankle did he realize that … it can’t … that’s a fox.

And that wasn’t the start nor the end of it.

Draped over the couch was the largest snake Sam had ever seen. It was curled into the red frilled cushion, fast asleep. On the countertop, two ferrets were dipping in and out of sight behind the fruit basket. A gecko bathing in a sunspot on top of a stack of books. A flock of white budgies perched between the crystals on the chandelier. Three pairs of brown twitching rabbit ears peeking out from a basket of laundry.

It seemed Dean had also taken stark notice of the menagerie that was the cottage, so distracted that he’d forgone mentioning that his question had gone unanswered.

His finger pointed weakly at down at the white boa on the couch. “That’s … that’s a snake.”

You laughed again and Sam was sure he could get drunk off the sound.

“Nothing gets past you boys, hey?”

You kept walking, motioning for them to follow through another arched door out into the garden behind the house.

“Her name is Lydia. She’ll come join us when she’s awake.”

“I sure as hell hope not …” But it was muttered and Sam gave Dean a stern look for his comment. You didn’t turn back.

The garden behind the house was impossibly even more beautiful than infront. Vines creeped up the outer walls, a lemon tree grew along the underside the of the bigger tree engulfing the house. Shrubs and bushes and stark purple flowers. Your whole patch of land seemed untouched by the fingertips of Autumn that was reaching over the rest of town.

In the middle of it all: sat a small white painted table. You’d lined it with sheer cloth and platters of pastries, sandwiches and cakes.

There were three chairs around it.

“Sit, sit, sit.” You were wringing your hands, a light waft of nervousness fluttering off you. “I didn’t know what exactly you hunters eat or don’t eat … so there’s a little bit of everything–“

“Oh, hell yes.” Dean’s initial skepticism seemed to dissolve at the prospect of food and his ass was in the chair before you had chance to say anything else.

You seemed pleased. 

Sam’s face flushed red. He remembered that he still has yet to say a full sentence in your presence.

“Uh,” you turned to the sound of his voice. “T-Thank you.”

The speckles of light through the canopy of the trees drifted over your face. Sam had never noticed that on a person before.

He’d also never paid much mind to people’s hair. Not before yours. It looked like something ripped off the cover of a fashion magazine from the 70’s.

“You’re so very welcome.” Your voice was kind. “It’s more of an indulgence. I haven’t had guests in a while, not since …”

It faded off. “Well, not for a while.”

Jewels jingled around your neck, crystals wrapped in black string: dipping low down between the swell of your breasts that was just visible above the hemline—

Sam quickly swung his gaze back to the table where Dean was scarfing down an icing covered puff pastry.  

His brother was making wildly animalistic groans over the taste. For a moment, it was the only noise filling the space against the shiver of the trees in the midday gust.

Sam didn’t know where to find his tongue. He couldn’t get himself to step away from you.

“Coffee or tea, boys? I have it inside warming on the stove.”

“Coffee.” Dean responded blurrily around a mouthful. You turned to Sam again.

“I—just, I’m—coffee is good.”

You nodded. “Sure. I’ll be right back.”

He watched your figure retreat towards the house. The nausea was bubbling back into view.

“This is some fucking good cake.”

When your frame had disappeared back into the house, Sam turned back to his brother who was cleaning remnants of a second pastry off his plate with a tiny fork.

He quickly neared him, pulling out the chair across from him hastily.

“Dean, have you even considered the possibility that this food is poisened?”

Dean’s face twisted to a grimace, but only for a fraction of a moment before shrugging. “Hey. Worse ways to go.”

But Sam was shaking his head. The dizziness had returned.

“Do you feel sick? I’ve been feeling like … like off since we first step foot on this property.”

Dean watched him with hooded eyes, gaze flickering between his brother and the sliced ham and cucumber sandwich resting at the top of a nearby plate.

“Is that your explanation for the fool you’ve been acting since we walked in the door?”

Looking up from wiping sweaty palms down his trousers, Sam stalled. “W-What?”

“Exactly.” Dean gave in, reaching for the sandwich. “You haven’t been able to string three fucking words together since we got here.”

“I—she’s a witch, Dean.” Sam pressed. “I think she put like a … a spell o-or a hex on me!”

“She couldn’t have done that in the five minutes we’ve been here.”

“She knows who we are, she could’ve hexed our motel room.”

“Looks to me like someone has a crush—"

But Sam’s face was earnest. And maybe turning a little cherry red at the accusation. “Dean.”

Dean huffed. “Fine, fine, we’ll interrogate her and see what she says. If she’s a witch, we just gank her. Problem solved.”

“But—”

The sound of footsteps were reapproaching. The brothers fell quiet.

“Here we go.” Ringed fingers clinked against the side of an ornate red pot where you leaned over Sam’s shoulder. Steaming black liquid slipped into the teacup resting against it’s matching saucer in front of him.

His breath caught in his throat.

“You like the sandwiches?” You aimed at Dean.

He nodded, “Yeah, great stuff.”

You rounded the table and Sam worked hard not to make eye contact with the expanse of thigh peeking up at him as you moved.

“I have to admit, I really wish you’d brought along your angel.” You poured into Dean’s cup.

His head flickered up at the comment. “Cas?”

“I’m a big fan of his.” Your voice buzzed with eagerness, “The whole rebellion against heaven thing. I thought it was really cool.”

To label Cas "his angel" was a fair assessment. The matching fleshy red handprint on each of their chests had confirmed it a long time ago.

Dean nodded slowly. “I’ll be sure to pass on the message.”

You smiled and it made Sam’s stomach contents bubble again. He was starting to worry that maybe you really had cursed him.

The chair grumbled against the grass where you pulled it out. “Right, so I’m assuming you guys are here to question me? Kill me maybe?”

Awkward silence fell. Dean and Sam exchanged glances.

“Uh—”

“Well—”

Between another bout of laughter, you poured your own cup. “Don’t worry. You’re not the first, probably not the last.”

Dean took a long enough break from scarfing food down his gullet to look up at you. “Yes. To question you, for now.”

You nodded. Eyes finding Sam.

“What about you, Bigfoot? Here to kill me?”

Sam reached deep to find his voice again. “Uhm, just a few questions.”

Smiling, you sat further back in your chair. “Great. Go right ahead then.”

“How do you know who we are?” Dean leapt right in, repeating what had been previously left unanswered.

“Someone like me’s gotta know when hunters are moving in and out of town, don’t you think?”

“Someone like you?”

“Yep.” You nodded, seemingly unwilling to offer more than what was being asked.

Sam leaned forward. “So you are a witch then.”

You chuckled under your breath, leaning forward to stir your coffee as if he hadn’t tossed an accusation in your lap. “I see you’ve been speaking to people around town.”

Nobody answered.

So you filled the space again.

“No, I’m not a witch. Slimy bunch them, but then again, I guess you’re not too far off.”

“So what then?” Dean’s voice held that rough edge that dripped through when he was growing annoyed.

Grinning, you shrugged.

A chime, like a ringing sleigh bell, filled the space. Sam’s eyes were drawn just past your shoulders where a tall pair of opal pearlescent wings had appeared behind your head.

“No fucking way.”

Sam choked around nothing. There was a long pause, interjected with a long stare between the brothers across your table.

“Fairies don’t … they don’t exist.”

You reached for a sip of your coffee, looking unperterbed. “Dryad, actually. Give it a google.”

The wings shivered against the movement.

"So what," Dean's glare was heated over the set table, "Evil fairy godmother is that it? What did you do with the kids, eat them?"

For the first time since he'd lain eyes on you, Sam could make out a shine of something unkind crossed your features.

You set the teacup down slowly and your eyes met Dean's with the same heat of the sun glaring down into the garden: "I had nothing to do with those children going missing. I loved them."

Sam wanted to interject, but his chest was tight ... a straining grip of guilt was tightening his throat. She's cursed me, she's cursed me, she's cursed me--

"A couple of the parents said their kids used to come visit around here. Visit the witch at the end of town. That true?"

Gathering a breath and another sip from your cup, your face distorted from indignant to disconsolate. Sam could feel the tightness in his chest ebbing.

You nodded.

"Yes. That's true." From behind your seat, accurate to your predictions, the wide white outline of a snake-- of Lydia-- was creeping through the grass.

Dean's eyes fixated on her approach, all way up until she bound the foot of your chair up into your chest. She rested her head there like a lap dog. You stroked a hand over her head like one too.

"They used to come visit," you continued, "after school some days. I'd make them tea and cupcakes, and they'd come to visit my animals. I taught them about the trees."

A fond look had crawled onto your features. There was another tinkle of bells and the wings behind you disappeared.

"Now nobody comes. Parents are scared. They think I'm ... hiding their children in my basement or something."

Dean surveyed you for a few moments, seemingly deciding you were of little enough danger to dare another piece of white chocolate cake.

"Yeah, you can spare us the pity party sister." He muttered around his fork.

Sam sent him a short lived look. "Well, then if it's not you--"

"We haven't yet decided that it's not you, just by the way."

"--then what is it? Surely you have some idea?"

Lydia was curling up around the back of your neck now. Your eyes found Sam's - he momentarily felt like he was melting - and you sighed softly.

"I've heard some things, nothing definitive." Your hand stroked over the section of the snake still draped in your lap. "It's coming from the forest."

"And you heard this where?" Dean's tone dripped with skepticism.

"The trees told me."

Where Sam was sure would normally be laughter echoing from his older brother, instead, his hand stilled over his plate.

THE TREES.

His eyes flickered to Sam. It was quiet. Dad's journal.

"You can speak to trees?" Sam question was clement.

You seemed refreshed by it, watching him for a moment before nodding. "Part of the gig."

Another silence fell. You sighed. Sam could smell Dean's thoughts from across the table.

"Let me get this straight." Dean cleared his throat, leaning forward in his chair. "You're the garden fairy and you're telling us that the trees have something to do with this? Not really working your best angle here, if you ask me."

The garden rustled again. A white duck emerged from one of the bushes followed by a string of ducklings. You shrugged tiredly.

"I'm trying to help." Your voice was soft. Melancholic.

Your hand reached for a strawberry sitting on a tower of others just past Sam's cup, crocheted sleeve slipping back to your elbow to reveal the scores of golden, beaded jangling bracelets and--

Sam's blood ran all the way icy, turning to a slurry in his veins.

"Care to explain that?" Dean's voice came passing over him as if said from the end of a very long corridor.

Twisting your wrist to look, you shook your head. You grabbed the strawberry and brought it to your lips with the other hand.

"Oh, this?" A jagged scar peaked from the edge of your elbow up into the palm of your hand. It shone pink with marred tissue. "You think I got this from kidnapping children?"

Sam's heartbeat was ringing in his ears, he gripped the edge of his seat with whitened knuckles. His eyes chased up to the side of your face, finding the little spot by your eyebrow where ... the end was split with the mark of the edge of a blade in a fight gone wrong.

"Not mine unfortunately." You continued, dissolving the strawberry to pieces between your lips. "My other half's. I swear they're a bull-fighter or a boxer the way they bang me up."

Somewhere a bird chirped. There was a turbo washing machine in Sam's stomach on full blast and he thought he was about to be sick. At the same time, he was washed over by a feeling of inexplicable warmth. Like a cooled stream of bubbling champagne down his gullet. Like how they always said it might feel. Only now he could put a feeling to the talk.

"Listen, if we find out you've got something to do--"

"D-Dean," Sam's voice tripped over pebbles, "We should go."

The hands now released from the edges of his seat were shaking and his palms were scorching.

Dean looked at him, confusion tugging on his hardened face. Sam thought he might argue, but he nodded slowly. Maybe he noticed his brother's red, sweating face. Again, maybe he was just bored.

"Uh, yeah." He started to push the chair out, but his eyes drifted on a ham and cheese sandwich lingering on his plate. He hesitated.

You jumped up quickly, wrapping Lydia like a scarf, all in the same motion. "I've got a box you can take some food, if you'd like? I could just run inside--?"

"That would be great--"

"No, that's really not necessary--"

Your eyes drifted to Sam, waving him off with a smile that buckled his knees now that he was standing. "Don't be ridiculous. Let me go grab them."

Figure disappearing into the house again, Dean surveyed his brother. "What's up with you?"

Sam didn't answer. In fact he didn't say anything at all until you'd returned, Dean had stuffed as many sandwiches and pieces of cake he could fit into the tupperware and you packed Sam a box against his will.

Not as soon as he would have liked, they were standing at the door again out on the porch front.

"We'll be back, probably." Dean quipped officially, but he lifted the box of food all the same. "Oh, and uh ... thanks."

You were smiling again. "Sure. You know where to find me."

Not for the first time that morning, Sam was struggling to peel his gaze off your face. Your eyes were a swirling mess of colour and the light was flickering off of them at him.

"I'll see you around, Bigfoot."

Your shoulder peeked at him from under your top, a deep red welt matching his own left collarbone.

He nodded curtly, turning back down the path even before his brother. His collar was sticky against his neck and his brain was firing off signals the whole walk down, it begged him to turn back.

Dean jogged to catch up.

"What the hell is going--"

Sam slammed the door on him, crashing into the passenger's seat. He began ripping off his suit, the black jacket flung mindlessly into the back of the Impala.

By the time Dean fell into the driver's seat he was already fighting against the button securing the shirt to his right wrist.

"You have been acting all sorts of crazy since we got here, Sammy. What the hell is--"

Sam pried back the sleeve: bunching it at his elbow. He stuck his arm out to his brother.

Dean glanced between his face and his arm only once before pausing. The long jagged scar from his palm up his arm was impossible to miss. The one that sat identical on your arm.

"Oh."

Sam was sucking in deep breaths through his nose.

Dean's eyebrows rose into his hairline. He let off a disbelieving laugh.

"Well, I'll be damned."

-

taglist:

@firstsnowdrop @writerofthewinds @aria1245 @nyx22-blogs @lucysaloser @britishscum @pookiesnatcher @music-keep-me-sane @cryptid-with-a-cane @sammys-concubine @i-live-for-fantasy @grimbunnie @crystalreedwifey

[ardentpoop]

your thoughts on the whole Sam is like a psychopath at times and that makes him interesting kind of takes in the fandom? (The first post I saw like this was along the lines of how Bobby might have not noticed the differences between sam and soulless sam initially because they are actually very similar.) I think that these sort of takes are what you refer to when you say you dislike how the fandom calls sam blood freak. I agree with the blood freak thing bc I found sams writing of that arc very emotionally compelling and reducing it down to blood freak and how its so quirky sam likes blood infuriates me so much. Especially since it's usually from a certain set of ppl who typically don't pay much interest to Sam who do this a lot.

I don’t like it and I don’t want to see it :) I usually block people for takes like this fyi.

some of my absolute least favorite interpretations & characterizations from this fandom come from ppl who exaggerate sam’s Inherent Evil - which isn’t actually a thing if you’re thinking critically abt him as a character at all. his “dirtiness”/“freak” status/“craziness”/“badness” are all horrible things he believes about himself and that everyone with any measure of power in his world (including - most importantly - dean) reinforces, but the tragedy is that none of it is true. you’d think more of the audience would be able to grasp this very simple concept esp given the real-world implications. then again many people can’t even read a statement as basic as “supernatural’s hunters vs monsters worldview is fundamentally flawed” without freaking out at whoever posted it. so fuck me.

I don’t think I can give you a more detailed rebuttal rn because I am very tired and these takes in particular are genuinely upsetting to me at the best of times. however I wish more of the audience knew to pay attention to how sam’s Monstrosity is consistently framed throughout the series vs how dean’s (always fleeting, always beyond his control) Monstrosity is framed, because that way I could point out the differences btwn how the fandom talks abt soulless!sam (also known as “robo sam” by the fans) and how they talk about, say, MOC!dean….. without someone trying to claim I’m just being dramatic. there’s a double standard on the show that’s intensely worsened by the fandom; in fact the popular fanon affected the direction of the canon in terms of sam and dean’s treatment as characters over the years given this was a series that involved a pretty unique degree of writer/viewer collaboration.

[justalittleweird]

John Winchester thoughts?

Okay... I know this is long and I might be hated for this, but I don't hate John.

Hear me out; he's not a great dad, and at the same time, I feel there are nuances and shades of grey in this character.

Look at the man in season 1 and tell me he doesn't love his sons. I know love isn't enough; it's not everything, and it's not nothing. People talk like John is some abusive psychopath; he clearly isn't. He's a scared, traumatized man who made mistakes and died loving his sons. He gave his soul to the demon he spent his whole life hunting, without a second thought, to save Dean.

I've noticed a lot of people forget what they stated in the show, that he wasn't physically abusive to them...

1.14 Sam: "Well, I'll tell you one thing. We're lucky we had Dad... it could've gone a whole other way after Mom. A little more tequila, a little less demon hunting, and we would have had Max's childhood. All things considered, we turned out okay... thanks to him."

People bring up that Dean stole food in 9.07, and it was stated that Dean gambled the money away.

John put too much responsibility on Dean. He was too strict and not loving enough when they were young. He acknowledged these mistakes. Sure, that doesn't heal the wounds, but it shows he is capable of insight and self-reflection, and at the end of the day, he learned from his sons and his mistakes.

I don't know... I just feel like a lot of people project onto this character and I don't mind that, it's fiction, but I think the canon is important in this case?

I also think people aren't capable of seeing other humans in shades of grey. There are some black and white cases, of course, and John isn't perfect, no one is, especially in this show. I think he deserves just a bit more credit than just a "trash father."

[iamleesi]

THE HUNTERS & THE SOLDIER

Pairing: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x OC! Avenger Reader

Summary: You and Bucky attend the neighbor’s party

Warnings: Nothing really this is chill, just wanted to write more of Bucky x Reader. Feeling lazy lately.

Other: English isn’t my first language so I’m sorry for the mistakes.

-> Masterlist

-> Part ten ; part twelve

-> An Evil Twin? (11)

The forced smiles that adorned your face the whole damn night vanished the moment you slipped into Mrs Thompson’s bathroom, waiting for Bucky to join you. Downstairs, the sound of loud music and children’s laughter made your head pound more with each passing moment, due to your sleep deprived state. But you couldn’t blame the kids for your exhaustion; it was your own doing, sleeping for a mere two hours in what felt like an eternity. The lack of sleep made you moody and each time someone spoke to you, even as kindly as someone could be, made you want to turn into the Hulk for a brief moment.

The past few hours had been a whirlwind of stress since returning from Malcom’s house. First, there was the sweep by the twenty trusted undercover SHIELD agents Bucky himself had called. They meticulously searched for hidden cameras or microphones, finding absolutely nothing save for the ones already known to be outside in the garden. Inside, thankfully, the coast was clear much to your relief. At least it was already something.

Then there was an issue that had a name and a last name; Cassandra collapsed the second your eyes met hers back at the psychopath’s house. Since then, she had been playing the Sleeping Beauty and not even Dean’s and Sam’s yelling at each other woke her up. Bucky even tried to wake her up at some point, fearing the worst for a second, but she simply continued to sleep like nothing was happening. It wouldn’t have been such a concern if she weren’t officially a missing person, with the police on the lookout, while you and Bucky played the part of the lovely married couple.

And thinking of Bucky, his knock on the door pulled you from your thoughts, prompting you to cross the room and let him in, quickly securing the door behind him with a twist of key. Just to be safe.

“Why did you gestured for me to come here?” You asked, crossing over to the bathtub and sitting on its edge hoping to rest your sore feet at least a little - those heels Wanda made you bring were an insult to torture.

“I got a call from Steve while you were cozying up to that man downstairs.” He replied, shooting you a pointed look. “Speaking of which, let’s not forget we’re supposed to be a married couple.”

“Just get to the point.” You sighed, rolling your eyes. While Bucky wasn’t entirely wrong, you hadn’t been flirting with Dyaln (the handsome neighbor’s son) as he implied, you were just trying to alleviate the boredom since Bucky disappeared for what felt like ages to go talk to Steve.

“They haven’t heard from Fury since we were sent on this mission. The others have returned already, their cases turned out to be false alarms, and they have been stressing about it ever since. Which is not long, but still.” He explained, taking a seat in front of you on the closed toilet lid.

“And nobody knows where he is? What about Maria?” You pressed, the possibility of Fury being in Hydra’s hands was becoming increasingly real with each passing moment.

“Natasha mentioned Maria’s also gone off the grid. Steve said Nat’s been going crazy about it, but before I told them the news they didn’t think their disappearances were connected to Hydra and to our case.” He said, running a hand over his beard, the gravity of the whole situation weighing on him.

“Of course she’s going crazy about it, they’re supposed to tie the knot in what? Two months?” You muttered, nervously bouncing your leg up and down. “Why didn’t they tell us anything? This feels like a pretty big deal to me.”

Bucky shrugged. “I suppose they figured that handling it themselves and letting us focus on the mission was the better choice.”

You shook your head, silently cursing them all. While it might not have changed anything for you and Bucky, a heads up would have been the least they could do. After all, it was Nick Fury and Maria Hill missing - not exactly a forgettable thing.

“Whatever. At least now we’re all on the same page.” You said, and after taking a deep breath you spoke again. “Should we tell Mr and Mrs Thompson that we’re leaving? I feel like I’m half dead right now.”

“It’s barely been an hour, Emma.” Bucky reminded you. Thought he wouldn’t mind some rest, he forced himself to endure a little longer for the sake of the roles you were playing.

You sighed in defeat, with a nod. “Any update on Cassandra?” You inquired, glancing down at the golden ring adorning your finger worn solely for this facade. But you had to admit, it looked pretty.

“I haven’t heard anything.” Bucky huffed, resting his elbows on his knees. “Sam and Dean are not answering their phone, but the Impala is parked outside so they must be home.”

“They would have called if she woke up.” You reasoned with a small shrug. “Maybe they’re resting or something.”

Bucky looked down at his hands for a moment, before speaking again. “I still think they’re suspicious.” He admitted.

As you were about to rise from your seat on the edge of the bathtub ready - but not really - to go back to the party, you halted mid-motion and sank back down as soon as Bucky spoke. “What do you mean?” You asked, furrowing your brows in confusion.

“It’s just… I’ve been thinking a lot about this whole mess of a situation, and I keep circling back to some unanswered doubts I have.” Bucky replied with a shrug, his gaze briefly meeting yours. “Do you not think they’re hiding something?”

“No.” You replied honestly. “After that time in Mrs Miller’s attic, I felt like we were good. I did have my own suspicions on them before, but now… now I don’t. Why? Do you think they’re connected to Hydra?” You asked, lowering your voice significantly for the last question.

“No, no it’s not that.” Bucky quickly clarified. “It’s actually about you. I have a feeling they know more about you than they’re letting on.”

Intrigued, you raised a brow, though you didn’t share his suspicions. Still, you were open hearing him out. “Care to elaborate?”

“Remember the other day in the car, right after the four of us left Mrs Miller’s house?” Bucky began.

“Yeah?”

“Dean mentioned that it was their father who found you, not Fury. And in that case, Fury had no idea that the facility even existed and had no files about it, right?” He continued.

“I suppose so?”

“You said you never divulged anything about the Wendigo Project to anyone for your own reasonable reasons, right? Not about what happened, to you or anyone else. You also said that the only person they rescued aware of the situation was you, as the higher-ups kept it hidden from the other prisoners, and any other evidence was destroyed when SHIELD agents swooped in to save the day.” Bucky explained, his words deepening your frown.

“What’s your point?”

“My point is: if Fury was in the dark about it all, how did he decide to send Sam and Dean here with us? Natasha and Wanda know about Hydra- they’ve been in there too and they know how they operated. So why you? Is it just a coincidence that you were chosen for this specific mission when you have deeper ties to Sawyer than any of us?”

“There were no records of me, Fury couldn’t have known.” You debated. “I didn’t even have a name before, I was only referred to as ‘kid’.”

“Not to sound like an asshole, but you’re saying that based on what Hydra told you? Because I don’t know if you noticed, but they’re not really honest people.” Bucky raised a brow.

“Fury is.”

“Fury faked his death when I was after him and didn’t tell Natasha.” He remarked.

You shook your head at that. Fury had based the entirety of your healing process on honesty; it wasn’t just about words, he showed you times and times again how of a trustworthy person he was. Back then, when you were still loyal to Hydra, he constantly showed you the reality of what the organization was rather than what you believed - Fury had always pledged to be honest about his own motivations, and you believed him after some time. After all, the evidence was all there.

Yet, despise it, Bucky’s words managed to make you doubt everything once again.

“What does this have to do with Sam and Dean?” You asked, your teeth gritted. You weren’t angry at Bucky; his concerns were valid and his reasoning made sense.

“I don’t believe Fury sent them here without informing them of what you are. I don’t know them well, and I can’t say much but Dean didn’t seem phased by your confession about being half Wendigo. And, I mean, think about it: hunters. They’re hunters, not SHIELD agents. Of course he knew what we were dealing with.” He explained succinctly. “I wanted to share my thoughts with you now that we’re on civil terms.”

He glanced at you, noticing the contemplative expression on your face as you kept your head low, your hair partially obscuring your features. He didn’t really intend to worsen your mood - especially not when it wasn’t that great before. Plus, seeing the hint of a pout forming on your lips didn’t sit well with him.

“Hey.” He said softly, not recognizing himself for a moment, extending a hand to to gently nudge you, coaxing you to meet his gaze. “Listen, I’m not even entirely convinced myself. You know I have a tendency to be paranoid.” He lied. He was entirely convinced of what he said.

And you knew it.

“Let’s just go downstairs.” You signed. “It’ll be suspicious if we stay locked in here together for too long.”

He watched as you rose from your seat, and went to unlock the door. He thought you were just going to leave, but as soon as one foot was out of the door, you turned back to look at him again. With a tilt of your head, you beckoned for him to follow. And, with just a nod, he did.

You both returned to the welcome back party for Dalia, Mr and Mrs Thompson’s daughter, and your forced smiles appeared once more as you mingled with the crowd of happy people. The room was as noisy and full as you had left it, except most of the children were now playing outside.

You felt Bucky’s hand on your waist, gently pulling you closer as you navigated the room. Neither of you were particularly social, each awkward in your own way, making it difficult to determinate who was worse.

“Do you want to dance?” He suddenly asked. You looked at him with a frown, thinking you had heard him wrong - Bucky Barnes asking to dance? Sure, you were playing a role but the dance part was quite unnecessary. “What? It’s a party, and I used to be a good dancer back in the days.” He said after a moment of silence with a shrug.

“Sure, but I might step on your feet.” You said, as he led you into the crowd. Thankfully, it wasn’t one of those parties with drunk people all around. Most of the guests were adults, and most of the couples swaying to the slow song were mainly married.

You couldn’t deny feeling slightly tense as you reached a corner of the living room where you had a clear view of the entire space. Even having a normal conversation with Bucky felt foreign, especially after all the times he had looked at you as if he wanted you dead. Now, being civil with him seemed unimaginable. Yet, there you were.

It wasn’t bad, though, not after finally managing to talk the previous day. You didn’t blame him for not trusting you before, especially not after the reasons he had. Reasons that left a bitter taste in your mouth. Mainly because you couldn’t remember any of the things he mentioned, no matter how hard you tried to squeeze your brain. If Hydra wiped your memories of that, what else might they have erased?

“I can almost hear the gears rolling in your brain.” He said, as you moved your hands on his shoulders and he placed his other hand on your waist again. You found yourself relaxing slightly at that. “What’s on your mind?”

“I was just thinking about yesterday.” You answered, as you began to sway together to the rhythm of the song. “Our conversation.”

“Mh.” He mumbled in response, as he looked down at you. “What about it?”

“Nothing, just…” You sighed, pausing before continuing. “I want you to know, I didn’t - whatever reasons I had for bringing you back to Hydra, it wasn’t willingly as you may think even if it seems that way. I mean, at the time, I must have thought it was the better thing to do for making the world a better place or whatever bullshit they were feeding me.”

“I know, Emma.” He said softly, his voice low to prevent anyone from hearing the conversation. “I do know now. I’ve spent this past year consumed by anger towards you, and I believed that hating you was easier than acknowledging that you didn’t have a choice in what you did - you were a kid, for fuck’s sake. But the thought of you being a part of the team when you were one of the people I had on my black list that I wanted to…” He stopped himself, swallowing back the words before they could escape. “I should have known better, since I was basically in your same situation. Instead I let spite have the best of me.”

“What made you change your mind all of a sudden? We have been on this mission for less than a week. Why now? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” You asked, searching his eyes as you both danced slowly to the music, careful not to bump into anyone.

Bucky remained silent for a moment. It’s not like he changed his mind overnight as it may seem, but after that night’s argument you both had a few days ago, he had been thinking non stop about it. “What you said about the different ways we have been brainwashed hit too close to home.” He finally admitted. “You did’t know anything else than what Hydra had told you, how could you ever understand that what you were doing was wrong? I’ve always known your story, I was informed on who you were long before you arrived and still, I couldn’t bring myself to look at you under another light. For a long time you were just someone that ruined my life further.”

You looked away at his words, as guilt took over. “If I could go back-”

“You still wouldn’t have had a choice.” He cut you off, but not as harshly as you were used to. But it was therapy to your hears to hear that.

“Crazy how you finally realized that after so long.” You asked, raising an eyebrow. “But I appreciate it.”

He shook his head with a smile. “Contrary to what you may think, I haven’t looked at another woman in the same way I’ve looked at you this past year.”

You blinked a few times, taken aback. “Is that a love confession? Barnes, for the love of God, we became civil last night - ask me on a date first, at least.��� You joked, enjoying the slight blush that crept on his face.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. You’re insufferable.” He rolled his eyes at you. “I was just trying to say that I’ve observed you, alright? Ever since Fury made you an Avenger. I thought you were going to betray all of us sooner or later, and I tried to gather all the evidence of that… but all I got was nothing if not the times I caught you in the kitchen after a nightmare.”

“Yeah, nightmares are a part of the Hydra package.” You rolled your eyes before frowning. “How did you know it was that?”

“Our rooms were only two doors apart, and I have an enchanted hearing.” He explained. “I heard you, every night. You know, I’ve met many former Hydra agents during my unnaturally long life, and none of them had any remorse over what they did, let alone having nightmares about it.” Bucky said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You feel guilt, that’s not something you can fake. And even with that, I was stuck on the idea that I couldn’t trust you.”

You remained silent at that, feeling that words were no longer necessary. All this time, he had been blinded by rage, and rightfully so. If you had been in his position - stuck with the person that brought you back to hell after you escaped - you might have done worse. You were just grateful that, somehow, you both finally had this conversation and could put everything behind you. It had taken time, and last night’s talk had happened unexpectedly, but you were happy with were it led.

The song changed to a more upbeat tune, and you and Bucky both silently agreed it wasn’t your style. “Do you want to get some air?” He asked.

“Please.” You replied, gripping Bucky’s arm as you made your way to the front door, feeling the room starting to suffocate you.

He led the way through the crowd, almost stumbling when a couple of kids ran under his legs as they chased each other. You heard him mumbling some curses as you laughed at the sight, earning a playful glare from him that didn’t deter your amusement.

Once outside, the cool night air was a welcome relief. You both leaned against the railing, taking in the calm atmosphere there was. You glanced over at Sam’s and Dean’s house on the other side of the road, noticing a flickering light coming from the downstairs room. But you didn’t think too much of it.

“As soon as this mission ends, I’m going on vacation.” He said out of the blue, as you gazed at the view ahead.

Your turned you head to look at him, a smile playing on your lips. “A vacation? Where to?”

He took a moment to think about it, his eyes narrowing briefly. “Italy.” He decided, nodding to himself. “I want to visit Venice. Maybe even go to Norway, I don’t know yet.”

You made a sound of approval at what he said. “Sounds amazing. I’d suggest Greece, in the summer.“

“Greece? Have you ever been there?” He asked, raising a brow.

“Not for a vacation, no.” You shrugged. “Just for missions, a few times.”

He mumbled, shaking his head. “You should change that. Taking a little break doesn’t seem absurd, you owe it to yourself. Imagine laying in the beach all day just soaking up the sun.”

“I’ve never been at the beach.” You confessed. “But it does sound like a relaxing time. Maybe I will do that if I find someone to go with.”

He stared at you for a second, before shrugging. “I like the beach.”

Before you could respond, a voice interrupted your lazy conversation. “Excuse me, this is Kim Thompson’s house isn’t it? I’m a bit late for the party. Could you help me ring the bell? My hands are full.”

As both you and Bucky turned to see who had spoken, the color drained from your face as soon as you realized. The too-familiar features of Mrs Miller greeted you with a smile. Her expression was kind and relaxed, her voice softer and lighter - the complete opposite of what you remembered. She looked at both of you, waiting for an answer, but you were struck dumb as if you’d seen a ghost.

In a way, you had. The woman you thought was dead stood before you, holding a tray of pastries as if nothing had happened. It was as though she hadn’t been dismembering someone days ago in order to feed a creature made by the most awful organization you’ve ever known - not really an everyday thing. Yet, there she was.

“Uhm… do you not speak my language?” The woman asked politely, noticing your silence.

“Mrs Miller?” Bucky asked, just to make sure.

“Do I know you?”

There was something unsettling about seeing the woman who had been so creepy during your previous encounters now being so polite, especially because since she seemed not to recognize you. “Uh… we met earlier this week when a colleague and I came to ask about Cassandra?” Your words sounded more like a question.

At the girl’s name, the woman visibly stiffened.

“Oh, no. You must have me confused with my sister, Camille.” The woman narrowed her eyes, her smile faltering for a brief moment. “I’m Mrs Wright now, I got married a few years ago and I took my husband’s last name… Miller was my maiden name.” She explained, looking between you and Bucky.

“We thought-”

“I only came back to town yesterday.” She cut him off. Her smile grew forced as she kept taking. “I’m Vanessa, me and Camilla are twins. Would you mind opening the door for me? Kim is an old friend and I haven’t seen her in a while.” She turned to the door, avoiding both yours and Bucky’s eyes.

“Sure… forgive me for the misunderstanding.” You managed to smile as you rang the bell, since you did not have the key.

Several awkward silent seconds passed before someone finally opened the door, greeting Vanessa as she stepped inside rather quickly, her relaxed demeanor completely vanished. You and Bucky were left alone, staring at the closed door in front of you.

“Was that the evil twin or…?” You trailed off, placing your hands on your hips and biting your lower lip.

Bucky ran a hand over his face and slid it behind his neck. “I’m about to lose it. Why did we never think of questioning the victims’ families? Maybe Vanessa knows something about this shit show.”

“We’re not detectives, Bucky, we’re Avengers; that’s why.” You said. “But you’re not wrong. She seemed dismissive as soon as we mentioned Cassandra. Did you see how her expression changed?” You asked, moving closer to Bucky.

Bucky nodded. “We should go in and ask questions.”

“Now?” You raised you eyebrows. It wasn’t really the place nor the time to press a woman about her lost sister and niece. “What do we do, lock her in a room and interrogate her? No, Bucky, we should leave and get her address from Mrs Thompson later.”

He gave you a deadpan look. “You just want to leave, don’t you?”

“… Is it that obvious?”

“Very.” He sighed. “But you’re right. Let’s go get some rest; we deserve it. I’m still sore after digging that hole at the cemetery.”

You eye twitched at his comment, but he started to walk away towards the road, hiding the smirk on his face - he knew how to push your buttons, not that it took much.

“The next time we’re left alone in a cemetery will be at your funeral after I’ve killed you. Mark my words.” You called after him.

He chuckled at that. “You should see a therapist. All this repressed rage isn’t good for your health.” He said as you caught up with him. “You anger too quickly.”

“I already see a therapist.” You scoffed. “I’ve told her about you. In fact, you’re the main topic of our conversations.” That wasn’t a total lie.

“That’s the most romantic thing a woman has ever said to me.” He snarled. “But it goes both ways. My therapist knows your name too.”

“I feel… special?“ You replied as you both crossed the road. “I hope you told your therapist about that one time I knocked you over during sparring and I almost broke your other arm. Bet you cried that day.” You mocked him.

“Shut it, I let you win.” He rolled his eyes, knowing full well you won that round fairly. “I just remembered why I don’t like you.” He shot back with a glare.

“That’s great, it keeps the sparks alive.” You retorted with a smirk, only to gain a groan from him.

* * *

A/N: Hi, I haven’t posted in like two weeks and this chapter kinda sucks but the story will get better I promise. In case you don’t remember, in the last chapter they found Cassandra in the back of a car and they realized that they were being stalked.

[veryace-ficrecs]

Supernatural Outsider POV Fic Recs

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)

God Killer by h0lm3stuck - Rated G

“There’s no way,” Austell says. “That’s——he looks like someone’s dad.” Someone’s criminally hot dad, but still. He’s not splattered with blood with a haunted look in his eyes, not itching for a fight, not toting a bloodthirsty angel along on a leash. Jeanie has to be wrong, there’s no other way around it. “No fucking way is that Sam Winchester,” Austell mutters. “That’s Dean,” Jeanie unhelpfully corrects. “Why do you look so scared?” She laughs. “He doesn’t bite.”

Attached to His Hip by sabarah23 - Rated G

The first time Jeremy saw the green-eyed boy, he had an infant attached to his hip. - or 5 times Dean was a dad in spirit only, and 1 time it was in name, too.

Story Time by Ltleflrt - Rated G

I like to imagine that someday when Dean and Sam and Castiel have finally saved the world, and are able to settle down, that Dean and Cas will get married and settle in a little town and Dean will make friends with all the neighborhood kids. He’ll keep an eye on them, and keep them out of trouble. And he’ll tell them stories….

Devil's in the House by glorious_spoon - Rated G

In which Sam hustles pool to pay for his textbooks, and an unexpected opponent turns up. Pre-series, outside POV.

Superheroes by aeli_kindara - Rated T

"I fuckin' hate group projects." Dylan gives Dean a wary glance. He gets it — he’s not the biggest fan of these things himself. But when you’re a group of two, “I fuckin’ hate group projects” is awful close to “I fuckin’ hate working with you.” In which a teenage Dean Winchester makes a friend and leaves something behind, and Sammy doesn't know when to shut up.

Crossovers

Criminal Minds

Monsters in Your Closet by AlbusCorvus - Rated G

When Castiel goes on a hunt alone and is caught by a particular FBI team, the brothers do something they never thought they’d have to. They kidnap SSA Spencer Reid to make an exchange. But being kidnapped by delusional serial killers is nothing like Spencer thought it would be.

Monsters are Real by WhiskyBoys - Rated T

'Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win.' Stephen King. The kid sitting in the interview room swings on the rear legs of his chair, throws back his head, and at the top of his lungs, sings a painfully off-key version of 'Wanted Dead or Alive'. Hotch looks at Morgan with one eye-brow arched in question. "You think he's your unsub?"

No Difference by The_Bookkeeper - Rated T

Derek has been in a lot of bad situations. This one easily makes the top five. Or would, if Dean and Sam Winchester were actually acting like the sadistic psychopaths he expected them to be. Instead, Dean is referencing Star Trek, Sam is comforting Reid, and Derek has never been more confused.

Buzzfeed Unsolved

The Bizarre Winchester Murder Spree by Origamidragons - Rated T

“This week on Buzzfeed Unsolved we are discussing two of the most prolific and strangest serial killers in recent history: Sam and Dean Winchester.”

Percy Jackson

We Hitch an Awesome Ride by ariadnes_string - Rated G

Percy and his friends get a lift from some guys who might know as much about monsters as they do.

There's Nothing Weirder Than Teenagers by Calculatrice - Rated G

The kid is blinking startled, sea-green eyes at him, and Sam distractedly thinks that he looks a bit like a lost baby seal. "Who are you?" He asks, as if Sam's identity takes priority over the fact that his friend just threw his body into a lake. ___________________ In which a goth kid attempts to drown his friend, and Sam is suitably concerned.

Empousai and Demigods by Eternally_Sidequesting - Rated T

A hunt gone sideways gives Sam and Dean an idea of just how much they don't know about the supernatural.

Indiana Jones

Remnants by oneiriad - Rated G

It's not always easy to find the thing that's keeping a ghost around - bullwhips doesn't exactly make it any easier.

[sammygender]

hiiii :) 10 & 22 for the choose violence ask game?

ask game

hiii!!!

already answered 10, worst part of fanon - i said dean as a Good Parent TM To Sam. fuck off. fuck offffffff. like dont get me wrong i love some young dean being sweet and looking after young sam but only as long as its mixed in with something more fucked up. that way its accurate. come onnnn

22. your favourite part of canon that everyone else ignores

not enough fic is set in s5 where sam is just stewing in guilt 24/7. i eat that shit up (<- someone who has like 4 wips set in s5). unrelatedly but i love mark of cain. i dont think its good i just love it cause i love excuses for dean to be even more terrible than usual. oh and we should do more with the fact that adam and michael are also trapped in the cage with sam and lucifer.

OH, and we should do WAY more with dean's controlling - especially physically controlling - 'tendencies' (light word). we all talk about the panic room but can we escalate that. i want dean locking sam in the impala. handcuffing him to the motel room radiator. sometimes i worry i sound like a psychopath when i write these things. but he literally Would. dean does not gaf about what sam wants generally 80% of the time this is displayed constantly even when he means well even when it ends up well!! he just thinks he knows best!!! he thinks its his decision!! lets do more with this. visualisations guys.

[thebiggerbear]

WIP Wednesday - 6/5/24 - Michael!Dean x Female!Reader

A/N: Just a little preview of something I'm currently working on for this character. My first foray into this one. Hope it's okay. Also got some Demon!Dean, Hunter!Corp Dean, Gadreel!Sam, and Soulless!Sam coming as well.

Warnings: Language; Violence; Possessed!Dean (sort of)

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @rieleatiel

Dean Taglist: @deans-spinster-witch; @birdiellie; @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl; @brightlilith;

@muhahaha303 @mariahoedt @solacedthistest @deansimpala @foxyjwls007

@onlyangel-444

SPN Taglist: @just-levyy

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

You crashed back into the wall, letting out a pained gasp as your back met the drywall and you fell to the ground, the breath literally knocked out of you.

Slow, methodical footsteps came to a stop in front of you. “Now, let’s try that again. If you could have anything, what would it be?”

You scowled up at your attacker as you held a hand to what was most likely a couple of broken ribs. “Would you skewered on an archangel blade happen to be on the menu?”

He smirked down at you, seeming delighted at your reply. “You know who I am.”

“Aside from the blue eyes and the Jedi mind moves,” You grunted as you struggled to get up, trying to ignore the screaming pain in your side. “It’s common knowledge that Dean Winchester is allergic to anything that isn’t flannel. Plus, the coat and tie…dead giveaway.” 

You had just managed to get to your feet when an unseen force slammed you up against the wall, making you yell out. “Fuck,” you hissed as the pain sharply radiated throughout your body. You couldn’t move though; you were being held in place. 

Dean—Michael approached, studying you. “Y/N…” It sounded almost as if he was trying out your name for the first time, as if he was seeing how it fit as it rolled off of his tongue. “I know all about you.”

You couldn’t help but snort at that. “Oh, good. If a GQ-wearing psychopathic archangel from some shithole reject planet knows all about me, then that must mean I’m famous.”

He didn’t react but the truth was, you didn’t expect him to. You knew you were going to die, you’d known it from the moment he appeared in front of you, but you refused to cower, placate him, or even beg for mercy. You weren’t getting any; his sneer of disgust as Dean’s green eyes roamed over you confirmed that even before he started throwing you around.

“I know because he knows.” Michael lifted a finger to his temple.

You started to laugh; you genuinely couldn’t help it. “Dean? That’s who you’re getting your intel from? Did he also manage to sell you a bridge?”

He moved closer until he was eye to eye with you. “Y/N Y/L/N, a hunter. Obvious issues, low self-worth, and quite the…hot mess. You lost your—”

“Yep, when I was six and then found out years later that he disappeared on a hunt. Yeah, yeah. We’ve all seen this one. Why not try something new and original for once?” Geez, did all bad guys spout the same shit day in and day out? As if that was going to make you, what, drop to the floor and weep? First, you weren’t dropping until he released you or forced you down. Second, he wanted tears from you? The only ones he’d be getting were either from laughter or physical pain, nothing else.

A hint of a smirk appeared on his face…well, Dean’s face. This really was quite the mind fuck. The Apocalypse Bringer aka another dick angel was wearing the face and body of someone you care about. To say you hated it was an understatement. “So then you already know you’re lost and not worth—”

“--Saving? Yeah, pal, nice of you to catch up with the rest of the class.” You purposely exaggerated your eye roll. “You’ve more than made your point. Now, you think you can quit monologuing and finish what you came here to do? As fun as all of this is, I’ve got a 3:00 in the seventh circle of Hell, with a quick pit stop at the second on the way, so if we could move this along…” If you could lift your hand, you would’ve made the hand gesture for him to keep it moving. And give him another infamous hand gesture while you were at it. 

His brow furrowed slightly before it smoothed out and his smirk widened. “You’re not going to ask me why I’m doing this?”

“Already know.”

“Or ask me what I want?”

“Don’t care.”

“Or plead for me to let you be?”

You let out a loud snort. “Is that even an option?”

“Or beg for your miserable existence?”

“No fucking way,” you snarled, glaring right at him. "That's never happening so you better kill me now Lucifer 2.0."

The creepy smile only grew more. You were definitely fucked.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

[loving-family-poll]

Ultimate Incest Tournament - Final

Propaganda under the cut:

Sam/Dean:

I'm sorry but they have it all. children of metaphorical incest just continuing the cycle in any way they can. they are brothers and mother + son and wives and each other's scorned lovers and life partners they've had multiple infidelity arcs they are sexually psychopathic together they have forsook life and morality and the earth itself for each other and just love each other so much . They are literally in a heaven of their own making together for eternity, incestuously. Come on!!! Blueprint!!!!! It's not gay if he's your brother!!!!!

dean did stuff to sam's dead body in ahbl. i just know it

Messed-up, isolated sibs with all the daddy and abandonment issues. Their lives are so claustrophobic with the brothers no more than five feet apart in the car, a motel room, or standing next to civilians (face it, they are frigging magnets). Can't leave out that they are always touching each other to check for wounds which is a huge PLUS for any shipper.

Sam and Dean ARE literally the blowjob brothers. They walk into a situation and everyone goes well well well if it isn't the blowjob brothers....... And they say. Yep. That's us. And then they fix the situation with their epic love story

THE classic, iconic, show shopping, never done before etc. etc. incest ship. It changed fandom and it changed the world

Cersei/Jaime:

they're literally womb-to-tomb lovers. they feel that the rest of the world is beneath them and they're the only ones that matter. the fact that they're twins is fundamental to their attraction to each other

they’re blonde they’re evil they crossdress they’re fucked-up mirrors of one another they serve cunt they’re both bisexual probably and they’re TWINS who FUCK. who said that.

"if I were a woman, I'd be Cersei."

"I'll kill [...] the whole bloody lot of them until you and I are the only people left in this world."

"I am sick of being careful. The Targaryens wed brother to sister, why shouldn't we do the same? Marry me, Cersei. Stand up before the realm and say it's me you want."

"'Do you have a little wife, ser?'" No, I have a sister."