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pickledpascal · 11 months ago

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Long Story Short, It Was a Bad Time

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Castiel

Warnings: transphobia, homophobia, horrible parent john winchester, homophobic language, implied past prostitution, based on 14x13, angst with a happy-ish ending

A/N: in this, dean is trans and visually looks similar to another of jensen's characters, beau arlen.

Word Count: 4.8k

Jensen Ackles Masterlist

Dean Winchester had known he was a boy since he could talk. Hell, before he could talk.

He wasn't aware he wasn't a boy until after his mother died and every single teacher in every single town they went to called him a girl and separated him into the girls' lines instead of the boys. It got increasingly mind-numbing as he entered his pre-teen years. His first period came around and his dad wasn't sure what to do. Pads were one of the most expensive supplies he had to buy and he never failed to make Dean feel bad about it at every turn.

“Suck it up, Deanna.”

“Don't go tellin’ anyone I don't do anything for you, Deanna.”

“You better clean the garbage out when I get home, Deanna. I don't wanna see that.”

The name itched him like a bad rash. Made him want to scream. But all he could do was cry. After John was gone and Sammy was asleep.

His boobs were growing in and everything about his body felt wrong. He was glad he was naturally tall and that he was able to gain more muscle the more John let him go on hunts but it wasn't the same. His shoulders weren't as broad as the other guys in his class, his hips jutted out too much for his liking, and he hated his long hair.

Dean cut it on his sixteenth birthday and told his father it was under the guise of wanting to be safe. Unpullable hair meant one less thing he had to worry about when it came to monsters. John looked at him suspiciously. He must have known. But he didn't blow up like Dean expected him to. That made the wrenching feeling in his gut twist more. There had to be a catch.

He came out two weeks after that.

“Thank God.” Dean blinked at the reaction. “I thought I was gonna have a dyke of a daughter. Now, I have another son. You going by another name?”

Dean wanted to throw up. Somehow, that made everything worse. His father would rather have a son than a lesbian daughter? He didn't want to think about the fact that he still liked boys just not as much as girls.

He had a few mishaps, he'd look at a few guys as he passed them with John at his side. Dean didn't think too much of it since nothing came of it. Why would John punish him for something as simple as a glance?

Then his seventeenth birthday came.

Dean's first hunt by himself, specifically curated by his father. He watched the fire in the hole he dug earlier with his hands pushed into the pockets of his jacket. The two bodies were as intertwined as they could be for rotting skeletons.

The heat was nice. But bittersweet. He was close enough that it could burn him. Dean would've loved to burn to a crisp as well but he had a brother to protect.

Dean swallowed thickly and gathered up his supplies.

Message heard loud and clear, Dad.

Dean's top surgery was one of the things he remembered the most about his more medical transition. He couldn't get testosterone as much as he wanted to with forged signatures and documents but Bobby offered something else.

So Dean was laid down on a steel examination table asleep on some anesthetic Bobby was able to get off the black market. Bobby didn't have much experience being a surgeon so it wasn't the best but it was as sterile and safe as it could be. But Dean couldn't have been happier. His chest was flat. That's what he cared about. Even if he had to be at Bobby's for weeks. He was just glad Sam was there too instead of having to leave him alone with John.

Time passed. Dean leaned hard into his masculinity after John died. A little too hard.

“You are way out of my brother’s league.”

“Guess how many of these cheerleaders are legal.”

“She's a bitch.”

“Fucking bitch!”

“Bitch!”

Part of it was his frustration with nearly being killed every day of his life, not even by monsters, the other part was the things John beat into him at a young age. If Dean wanted to be a man, he had to be one at John's discretion. He had to like girls but not enough to actually settle down with one. He had to look out for Sam even if that meant he would die.

So he did.

Made a deal. Went to hell.

Except he didn't expect to come back.

That gas station would forever stay in his mind. He walked for hours to find it. His whole body felt a little different. Jumbled around but he could tell his body was still his. He immediately went for the water bottles and broke the seal, downing it in one go.

Dean caught a glimpse of a mirror out of the corner of his eye. He walked up to it and licked at his bottom lip, staring at himself. He noticed his sharper jaw decorated with stubble, his hair seemed to be less chopped, his shoulders more broad, and… he had bowlegs? He looked down and then back up.

Intrigued, he lifted his shirt. His lips dropped open. The scars under his pecs were still there but they were different, no longer botched and scary-looking, but smooth. And his chest. It wasn't completely flat like it was before. His pecs looked more natural, protruding a bit. Like a “real” man. Dean let his shirt drop as he breathed. The handprint on his arm was there too and, for a moment, he knew something cosmic had to be the reason for this, but something inside him felt so happy. Giddy.

He snuck a peak under his jeans. And, yeah, no he still didn't have a dick but he didn't particularly care about that anyway. One of the only things about his body that didn't matter as much. Well, at least now he felt comfortable in himself even if it came at a price.

Over and over again. He was reminded of what he “really” was.

“Daddy's blunt little instrument.”

“Daddy's little girl.”

Hell, half of it came from himself. As a joke. Not one he particularly wanted to be true.

“I've been re-hymenated.”

“Ever since I was a little girl.”

“You got anything that’s real?” “My boobs.”

As Dean grew older, he started to shed those kinds of ideals. Not only did it get too heavy to bear but he started not to care anymore. John was dead. Mary was dead. Who did he have to impress? So he didn't mind talking about the fact he didn't have a dick and indulging himself on some things that may be seen as feminine. Like a few satin panties tucked into the bottom of his drawer or the few times he painted his nails—it never lasted long when he went on a hunt.

Although Dean still thought of his body as a tool, something he could use against their adversaries, it was a little easier to live in when he was in control of what he could do to it. When it was the kind of body he always wanted. So he got more tattoos to cover his body—they were mostly covered by his layers of denim and flannel except for one that creeped onto the side of his neck—his nipples got pierced and he nearly forgot he actually had nerve endings there when it happened, he grew out his hair a bit—not nearly as long as Sam’s but enough that he could style it better—he started wearing earrings and rings again. Not many and usually not during hunts because he had a feeling any monster, or human for that matter, would take advantage of it and tear his ear in half.

Sam and Castiel didn't mention it. Ever. And Dean wasn't sure if he should be grateful for it or not.

“Why did you…” Dean breathed, glancing up at Castiel. He didn't want to finish the rest of his question. It was right after Mary came back and she had locked herself in some random room in the bunker to process something.

Dean was no longer her beautiful, young four-year-old daughter Deanna. He was a grown man with shorter hair, a sharp jaw, and stubble. He knew it would be a shock for anyone, especially someone dead for so long but he didn't expect it to reopen a wound he thought had healed years ago. People had only ever thought of Dean as Dean. A man.

Even the very few women he got with after transitioning still thought of him as a man afterward.

Castiel’s eyes softened at Dean. He could sense the turmoil inside his head. “I was given liberty to rebuild you in the way I thought would prepare you for Micheal,” He admitted softly. He could see Dean was holding in a breath. “I decided to give you the body you wanted. The one you deserved. I had never seen a soul shine as bright as yours as you looked at my handiwork in that gas station. I knew then, I made the right decision.”

Dean's cheeks flared with blush, averting his gaze to look at anywhere but Castiel. He never quite thought about him being there, watching him admire himself. He knew that was Cas, of course, he did, but to Dean, it wasn't Cas just yet. The Cas he knew was so different from that grinding, high-pitched noise he remembered hearing.

The Cas he knew was safe. His best friend. The closest thing to family he had beside Sam. He was able to be open with Cas in a different way than Sam.

More and more shit came and went. More and more apocalypses. But Castiel was a constant. Even if he died a few times. Even if he left a few times. He usually came back. Dean wanted him to stay. For good. But even if he was more open with being a transgender guy and liking girls and guys, he still wasn't that open about his feelings. His more complicated feelings.

“Sam? Deanna?”

That fucking pearl.

The sight of his father. That's not what Dean wanted. That wasn't his deepest desire. Hell, he didn't even know what his deepest desire was. And that name. He hadn't heard that name in years. Mary caught on quickly that Dean was Dean and that was it. But, of course, his father wouldn't. Even if he liked having Dean as a son more than a daughter.

That fucking pearl was supposed to get Micheal the fuck out of his head and kill him for good measure. Instead, it brought him the one thing Dean hated more than anything in his life.

On autopilot, Dean locked himself in his room. He nearly fell to his knees but he braced himself on the wall and had half a mind to punch a hole in it. He winced as that banging in his mind got louder. Micheal screamed. Dean slid down the wall and pushed his hands into his hair. His breathing was harbored and he felt suffocated as if something was weighing down his chest.i

Why did that pearl do that? Dean was happy without him. As happy as he could be with an archangel in his head and tonnes of baggage.

A soft knock brought Dean back to reality. Cas. He pushed himself off the ground and opened the door.

“Sam told me about your father,” His tone was deathly serious. Dean hadn't heard Castiel sound like that in a while. He was grateful for it. “Would you like me to smite him?”

Dean swallowed. The offer was tempting. “Jesus, Cas, no. I—” Want him gone. Dead. Obliterated. Erased from his memories. Back in Hell. Gone from Heaven. Tortured to be forgotten. “I need you. Here. With me.” His shoulders slumped after the admission.

“Of course, Dean. Whatever you need.” Castiel's voice softened as his eyes did as well. It was so truthful, said with such fondness Dean nearly cried.

Dean sat at the end of his bed and motioned for Castiel to do the same. The angel obliged. He knew there was this thing between them. Obvious enough Sam started to call him out on it, never in front of Cas to save him from the embarrassment, but it was always on his mind when they were alone together. He wasn't sure what to do with it. All his feelings. Everything was so complex. Yet simple. It was a strange dichotomy. One he wasn't sure he wanted to admit out loud.

But the fact that Castiel had only ever seen Dean as a man helped. Drove it into his thick skull what this thing was. Love. Castiel spoke to him so reverently. Spoke his name like a prayer. One Dean desperately wanted to hear over and over again.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Of course, Dean.”

“Good things do happen, Dean.”

“This is a good thing, Dean.”

“He called me Deanna,” Dean admitted softly, eyes focused on his boots. He was naturally tall, even before resurrected by Cas, but the boots gave him an extra inch or so to not look as small next to Sam. He could feel how tense Castiel was after his words. “It's… funny,” He let out a dry laugh, “For years, I've been fine. Been good in that area. But that's just—” Dean took a sharp breath. “People see me as a guy now. At least, they do until they get in my pants. But Dad—John, I fucking look like this,” He gestured to himself, “And he calls me Deanna? Fuck me.” He scoffed.

For a second, he had a feeling John only humored him when he was younger. Called him Dean, got him a binder before his surgery, just because it was easier. If Dean became a man then he wouldn't look as much like Mary anymore and then maybe he wouldn't see her in his eyes or his face.

But John still did. This was proof of that.

“Your father, for lack of a better term, is a bitch.” Castiel said shamelessly. “You are so much more than a man born in the wrong body. It's a shame your father is too blind to see that.”

Dean's breath caught in his throat. And then he laughed. Hard. Hard enough his lungs started hurting and he had to gasp for air. Hard enough that tears started to form at the edges of his eyes and a few even rolled down his cheeks. He didn't register his hand on Castiel's thigh until he set his hand on top of it.

Dean pulled it away. Or tried. Castiel held it in place. “Your soul…” He murmured. “It shines so bright when you laugh.”

His voice. So soft and reassuring. Dean screwed his eyes shut. He couldn't help the fluttering in his chest. For the first time in a while, Micheal was silent. It was just him and Cas in the middle of his bed. Safe. Outside his room might be different.

Dean's eyes lifted to meet Castiel's. They were a brilliant shade of blue he couldn't quite place. Nothing matched it. Sure, he could compare them to the ocean or perhaps the sky but even those didn't come close. Without thinking too hard, Dean let himself go.

His free hand pulled Castiel close as he brought their lips together. The surprised noise the angel made was cute and Dean could feel him melting into the kiss. Castiel's lips were chapped, Dean chalked it up to him not caring for his vessel much, but everything felt so right. Their fingers intertwined while Cas threaded his free hand through Dean's hair.

A cough. And suddenly Dean and Cas jumped away from each other. It was Sam. Dean took a breath, thankful that it was Sam and not John. Sam smirked as his eyes flickered between the two men but it was quickly wiped off his face. “Mom and Dad… they want to have dinner together.” He explained, focusing on Dean.

There was still a lot Dean didn't tell Mary about John. About their life before the Men of Letters bunker. What Dean did to survive, to make sure Sam could live as comfortably as possible, to put food on the table and get a bed to sleep on, even while John was still alive. Bathrooms in gas stations on his knees, in the back of bars, dingy motel rooms.

John never asked where the money came from, he took it anyway.

If Mary knew, Dean knew she would look at John in a different light. A part of him didn't want to tarnish that for her. Even though it took some adjusting, she had accepted Dean wholeheartedly. Hell, she only messed up on his pronouns a few times, that was a lot better than when Sam first found out.

“Dean, do you want…?” Sam didn't finish his sentence. He didn't know the full extent of what John did to him but he knew Dean intentionally took the brunt of the abuse for Sam. And he could never take that back. “He's asking about you. Saying you—you finally look like a man. Wondered what kind of work you had done. Thinks you're…” Sam wasn't trying to guilt trip Dean, quite the opposite. “Thinks you get a lot of girls. Asked if you had a wife or something. Asked if you,” He coughed, “Got a dick yet.”

Dean’s fist clenched as his face contorted into disgust. Out of the corner of his eye, he could feel Castiel getting frustrated as well.

Screwing his eyes shut, Michael crept up in his mind again. The screams. The banging. It came back tenfold. “What does he even want? For us to be fucking normal?” Dean huffed.

“Yeah,” Sam said simply. “Dad… he's from 2003. That's what he does best. Act normal when nothing is.” He smiled sadly.

Dean stood up from the bed and rolled up the sleeves to his flannel shirt. He wouldn't—couldn’t��let his father undo everything he had ever built in the last fourteen years of his life. The small little family he made. Sam, him, Mary, Cas, Jack, and Claire. That was his family. Not John.

Castiel looked at Dean, concerned. “Are you sure, Dean?” He could see that little boy inside him, still scared of what his father could do to him. But he could also see the grown man he came to be, unafraid of his father because he could likely overpower him now.

Before he could think about it too hard, Dean nodded. “C'mon, sunshine. I'm not letting him fuck with my head again.” His leg bounced slightly. Not from nerves.

Dean, Sam, and Cas made their way into the war room where John and Mary sat at the map table. John’s head lifted to look at Dean. Fully look at him. Take in his new appearance. When he appeared, Dean didn't stay long enough for John to get a good look at what he had become. The last time he'd seen Dean, he was twenty-five, wore too big clothes, had a skinner frame, and his hair was short and was never styled. This Dean… was not that.

He grew into his height, broad shoulders, visible muscles under his flannel—John would have never guessed Dean was born a girl. That he was his daughter.

“Deanna.” John breathed.

“Dean.” The man corrected. “You're… here.” He wished he wasn't.

John’s eyes narrowed momentarily. Normally, he would've slapped him for something like that but he wasn't stupid. This Dean had a few pounds on him. “I am. Sam and your mom caught me up on everything that went down,” His eyes shifted to land on Castiel. “That the angel that pulled you out of Hell?”

“Hello, John.” Castiel greeted, void of any emotion. Dean glanced at him. He knew the angel inside and out and he knew Castiel was getting increasingly annoyed simply being in John's presence.

Mary sensed the tension between them and coughed. “I was thinking we could have Winchester Surprise?” She suggested softly—ever the peacemaker.

Dean cocked an eyebrow at his mother. He knew Mary was desperate to have John, they didn't have much time together and she was still very much in love, but no one else wanted him there. Dean didn't and neither did Sam and Castiel was so close to stomping John into a curb.

“I'm not sure that's a good idea, Mom.” Dean finally said. As much as he wanted to protect her from the real John, the one who was hiding behind a loving façade, he had to break the news to her. There must always come a time when the veil gets taken away from someone’s eyes, showing them the truth.

John tilted his head and Dean couldn't help but feel it was condescending. “Why not? We're all family here. We can be normal for a night,” He stared at Dean a little too hard. “As normal as we can be.”

“We were never normal,” Dean ground out. It took all his self-control not to just yell at him. Mary looked at Dean worriedly. She'd seen Dean mad, specifically at her, but nothing like this. His shoulders were tense and his nose was drawn into a snarl.

“You–You don't get it. Never will. You suck for a father. I had to raise Sam myself. You'd fuck off to who knows where drunk half the time and make me, a four-year-old watch over a fucking baby. And you liked me better as a son than a girl who liked girls? What the fuck?” Yeah. Fuck that self-control. Dean’s jaw set in place. “Guess fucking what dad? I like girls and boys. And I could care fucking less what you think of—”

Dean's jaw throbbed. Surprise shivered down his spine. John flexed his hand as he stared down at Dean as he cupped his face.

“John!” Mary yelled.

Castiel nearly jumped John before Dean did. With a single right hook, John was out cold on the floor. He flapped his hand afterward, feeling the soreness immediately. It had been a while since Dean had to punch someone, usually, he had a gun or knife when fighting, he was a little surprised at how effective it was.

“Dean!” Mary huffed as she went to John's side.

Dean bit the inside of his cheek. He decided he might as well come out with it. “Fuck him, Mom. He was never my father. He never tried to be. I was the only person who watched over Sam. A tool in his life while he was dead-set on revenge. We could have been normal. If he never went on a rampage.” He looked down at the pitiful heap that was his father with disgust. He glanced at Castiel over his shoulder.

Mary shook her head, trying to reason with Dean. “We're a family. We don't give up on family.” She whispered.

“Sometimes you do,” Dean huffed softly. As much as he and Sam fought, as many times as they took turns dying, it never got so bad that Dean thought he hated him. At least, not for more than a day or so. “I'm good with who I am. Dad isn't. I don't want him in my life. I don't think I ever had but… this is my life now. I get to live it. Meaning I get to choose who's in it,” He swallowed thickly, knowing what he was about to admit. “In ten years time, it's not with him. Never was.”

“Dean, you don't mean that.” Mary sighed. Pleading. She wanted to keep John, make up for lost time.

Sam took a step forward. “Mom, you don't get it either. The shit John put Dean through—put both of us through—no kid should have to go through that.”

Mary huffed, “Then tell me. You can't just expect me to know.”

Castiel stared at her. “Your sons don't have to say anything they are uncomfortable admitting.” He said it as if he was stating the weather forecast.

Dean pursed his lips. Hurt. He knew Mary wouldn't understand but he didn't quite expect this. He turned on his heels and made his way back into his room.

Eventually, everything was as it was. John was sent back after Sam destroyed the pearl and Dean could breathe a little more comfortably afterward. Mary shut herself off from them but he had a feeling that would get resolved as much as the gut-wrenching feeling in his stomach told him it wouldn't. He never wanted to see or think about John ever again. Hadn't wanted to for years after the shit he's gone through.

Dean heard a knock on his door after he got ready for bed. Hell, he was halfway underneath the covers when it happened. He grumbled under his breath, not thinking to put on a shirt or a pair of pants as he opened the door.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said softly. As soft as each time before. Dean was suddenly very aware of how bare he was. “Do not be alarmed, it's nothing I haven't seen before.” The angel stepped inside his room, closing the door behind him.

Castiel's words did nothing to ease Dean's beating heart. It felt like a hammer against his chest, wanting to tear itself out of him.

Castiel’s eyes never wavered from his face, studying it as if it were a work of art. He lifted a hand to Dean's cheek. Dean felt as if the air was punched out of him. “I want to know if you're okay, Dean.” Those blue eyes—they never looked at him in pity, never. They looked at him with wonder and understanding.

Dean didn't register the single tear that rolled down his cheek until Castiel's thumb wiped it away. “Not really, Cas.” He breathed. Admitting it didn't feel as bad as he thought it would.

“Why—” Castiel took a breath, saddened by how destroyed Dean's eyes looked. “Why do you think the pearl… gave you John?” He asked softly as he and Dean sat on his bed.

Dean glanced at the corner of his room, lip trembling with a mix of rage and sadness. “Maybe the pearl thought I wanted a Dad. Someone who could love me unconditionally. But I—” He paused sharply, eyes finding Castiel's all over again. He wanted to memorize his eyes as if it were the first time he saw them. Or the last. “I have you.” He breathed. For the first time, Dean hadn't been compelled to add Sam at the end of his sentence.

“You do,” Castiel smiled. And, god, Dean's heart wrenched at the sight. Cas didn't smile, not often. “You always have.”

Dean let out a shaky breath, leaning into Castiel's hand as it caressed his cheek. He sniffled slightly. “Cas, please…. Please promise me you'll stay. Even—Even if I push you away. You,” He was full-on crying now and Castiel was looking at him as if he was the most beautiful thing in the world. “You'll stay. No matter what.”

“I will.” Castiel whispered light as a feather. Two simple words but it was a promise that meant so much to Dean.

It was a promise Castiel never intended to break. Why would he? Especially when Dean seemed so desperate. So distraught. He could never leave Dean. Not again.

“Kiss me.” Dean whispered. Pleaded. He wanted to memorize everything about Cas. The strange body heat he gave off, the tilt of his head, how his lips pressed into a thin line when he was only minorly frustrated by Dean, the roughness of his stubble. Everything.

For the first time, Dean saw a smirk grace Castiel's lips. “Whatever you want, Dean.” He brought their lips together with a sigh.

They kissed for a while, pausing for breath in between kisses but they didn't go past that, ending up with Castiel in bed with Dean after he shed his trenchcoat, shoes, and tie. Dean dozed off, peaceful enough to fall asleep in Castiel's arms.

Even with a fading grace, Castiel didn't sleep much. His body ran well enough on it that sleep wasn't needed. So he stayed up, playing with the hairs on Dean's neck as he watched over him, soothing him as much as possible when he sensed a nightmare coming on.

“You think you're cursed sometimes Dean,” Castiel cooed on deaf ears but he didn't mind. He had to get it out. “That hate is the only thing that drives you. That you're not built for love. But you are. I think, sometimes—no, I know—that’s all you're made up of. And I–I promise we will find a better way,” Cas lifted his hand to Dean's shoulder, positioning it right above his scar. The scar he burned on his skin. “I love you, Dean.” He whispered into his ear.

For the rest of that night, Dean didn't have nightmares. For the rest of that night, he burrowed himself closer to Castiel. For the rest of that night, Michael was quiet.

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masoena · 3 months ago

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IMPALA LOVE - Crack in the Chassis Fic and Art

This is the fic/art post for "team" 2 of the @crack-in-the-chassis event, long story short, I arted my own fic.

It took many attempts and much patient and incredibly kind, encouraging support from @midnightsilver to get there.

Fair warning the story is PWP and very cracky in-line with the theme of the event and NSFW 🔞.

Pairing: Sampala/Dean Winchester

Summary:

Sam wakes up as the Impala with very limited visual capability within the cab, Rowena is called in to help and while she can't undo what presumably is another prank of a certain archangel, she can give Sam more control and ability to see beyond the cab of the car and manipulate objects within the car and cab. Delightful PWP ensues because objects include bondage rope and by extension a very willing brother ready to give himself over to Sam. Enjoy a humor-filled, mutually satisfactory exploration that leads to an explosive climax in the bunker garage, all safe, sane and consensual though extremely cracky.

Mind the tags please.

Link to fic on AO3: here

#CitC #supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #spn #spn fanfic #spn fanart #supernatural fic #samdean #supernatural fanfiction #wincest #my art #crack-in-the-chassis #masoenart #masoena

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theconstantsidekick · 2 years ago

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no because, supernatural is absolutely a train wreck. it's a colossal accident that is happening in front of you that you can't look away from. it is homophobic and non-sensical and downright laughable at times but you know what? I love it. I absolute love it.

season 1 was absolutely beautiful. you don't understand, really, you don't. they had a piss poor budget, you can see that in every frame. but does that stop it from being fucking beautiful? no. it is stylised and ambitious and a fucking visual treat.

and this is like the first fucking episode. the shots have so much character! and that's nothing to say of the characters themselves. from the first fucking scene you can clearly distinguish sam and dean's character clear as day. their motivations, their dreams, their hopes, all of it. it's established so well. their dynamic is unmatched. does it also have a lot of garbage? yes for sure. because what in the name of hell was that episode with bugs? what glue were they sniffing when they green lit that one? no seriously... I wanna try some.

but then they recovered, cause they did faith. my god, what an episode. WHAT AN EPISODE. that motherfucking reaper haunts my every waking hour

like yeah, I love me some baby dean and baby sam going on their small scale ghost hunts while learning deep lessons about who they are as people and what they want from life.

also that 'laugh I nearly died' needle drop? where sam sees jess? god tier editing, GOD TIER.

then they came back with season 2. and here is my most controversial opinion that should not be controversial at all, season 2 is the best season of supernatural to ever supernatural.

what is and what should never be, hollywood babylon, heart, nightshifter, and the whole fucking season actually. not a single miss in my humble opinion. and that finale? THAT FINALE. beautiful, magnificent. ground breaking character writing, everything comes full circle while simultaneously opening up new plot lines to explore.

and my god, yellow eyes is an epic villain. he is a very viciously written villain like, he's... my god. it ain't a walk in the park writing villains, believe you me patient readers, villains are harder to write than the protagonists, always. well, at least the compelling ones are.

now season 3 suffered because of the writer's strike, but didn't miss much either. like yeah some of the hits don't hit as hard as the season 2, but hey, mystery spot, time is on my side, ghostfacers, bedtime stories are nothing to laugh about. those episodes are fucking solid, like most of the season. and there is so much raw emotion is sam's need to save dean, it just makes my weak winchester brothers loving heart throb a little too hard. also...

need I say more?

does the show did look little more washed out and boring? yes. but it's cool, cause we're moving on to season 4.

listen, I kinda just wanna leave all my season's critique at this. i mean, yeah this. this is it. this is the long and short of it; castiel. i don't think i need to get anymore into it

so season 5 is just—

i'm kidding. obviously i'm gonna talk about season 4, at length.

listen, being able to introduce angels this late in the game and then have them be a such perfectly hidden players is a masterstroke of genius. it just is. i am a writer guys... apart from the relentless fanfic as well lol. and when i tell you, introducing a new big player which is also (not so) secretly the next big bad and playing it off as smoothly as they did in season 4, is beyond hard. but the biggest home run these fuckers hit is castiel and the best part is they weren't aiming for a one lol. and oh oh, the way they use their very VERY limited budget to show wings with just flashing the fucking light? CINEMA! that's fucking cinema right there man. i work on film sets, i am telling you, this is the smartest filmmaking choice they make on the entire show. it adds so much visual intrigue while being so awfully easy to execute. BRILLIANt.

now i cannot talk about supernatural without talking about the deancas romance of it all, which i understand not everyone can see or wants to, which is fine. to each their own. you consume art the way you want to, i don't care much as long as you can acknowledge that castiel and dean's friendship was just some of the best written television that mankind has ever seen. is that too grand a statement? yes. does that make it any less true? no.

they even brought back the moody lighting.

and then there's the episodes this season, most of which are home runs in their own regard. just like beautiful writing, the character development for cas, for dean, for sam, even the late john winchester is wild. anna is a wonderful addition, so is uriel, and alastair? they don't make villains like him anymore, they just fucking don't. AND THAT GODDAMN PLOT TWIST AT THE END? man! the finale was just... too good. Chuck's introduction is absolutely wonderful, even if they ruin him by the end but that happens a decade later so wtv, who cares? But,,,, Jimmy. Fucking. Novak. That's all. that's the tweet. yeah. i'm gonna end the season 4 fan fair with jimmy.

moving to season 5.

subjectively speaking, this is my fucking favorite. this season is a writer's dream while also being their goddamn nightmare. so many WONDERFUL characters to play with and such a grand plot but you get to see it all on a very small, consumable scale which is just... it's too smart for me to not mention. i won't start naming the plot points and neither will i name my favourite episodes because what even is the point? all of it was fucking perfect. you don't understand how hard it is to develop characters to such an extent that they become so familiar to the audience that they know their next move before you even put it on the screen. and supernatural had that. they tied everything together with so much care and consideration, just... AAAH so good.

a special shoutout goes to endverse!cas, crowley and death this season. you all know it in your bones that those three were just the absolute scene stealers. especially death's introduction... immaculate.

they did lose a few points for not being as aesthetically pleasing as the past few seasons but hey, gabriel was enough to make a smooth recovery.

but this... this is the end of the road for me people. season 5 is where it should have ended. in no way shape or form am i saying that there aren't a few good episodes here and there after this, because there are. i think season 5 was so fucking solid, tied up so many goddamn lose ends and then just put a cute little hell shaped bow on top and i just... yeah. this was and should have been the end of the road. do not get me wrong, i love me some jack kline, charlie bradbury, kevin tran, rowena macleod and eileen lahey but were they worth the bullshit ending i had to sit through? not really.

i absolutely think if there weren't more episodes of supernatural I would never have become a destiel fan, because i started shipping them when dean made cas a mixtape in season TWELVE! but my god, the good times were so scattered amongst the horseshit that even when i found those hidden gems, they were so fucking drenched in the stink that they lost their value.

the worst of it all is that, i cannot explain to you what supernatural means to me in a million words, because it is a part of me, heart and soul. i fucking AM castiel. i am a gay little angel you hear me? i love this show. i do. i'm glad it went on for however long it did but i feel like once in a while i need to write shit like this or read shit like this to remind myself of the show that it used to be. of it's beautiful cinematography, of it's clever little storytelling techniques. of it's wonderful cast. of how epic their song choices used to be.

FUcking RENEGADE? iconic. wanted, dead or alive? cannot hear the song without hearing sam's off tune goat bleating that he called singing along.

i need to remind myself of how afraid i used to be of lucifer. of how much i cried while watching dark side of the moon; when dean and sam burst the crackers, and how i learnt the lyrics to knocking on heaven's door just because of that scene.

sometimes i just have to walk through memory lane and look back at gabriel's death, the good one, the only one. it was so fucking meaningful. i have to think of "we are making it up as we go" to be able to breathe properly because those moments were so fucking beautiful.

fuck the big ones, i even remind myself of the small ones, of dean's handwriting being in all caps, just like him. of sam's fucking huge laptop with that weird blue black sticker in the middle. of castiel's tie, that just was the right shade of blue, and hung all wrong but just naturally enough to add so much more to his character than any fucking dialogue could. every small little detail of supernatural that made it so damn supernatural. i miss it all.

idk. i'm rambling. whatever.

#superntural #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #deancas #destiel #spn #spn season 1 #spn season 2 #spn season 3 #spn season 4 #spn season 5 #dean #cas #sam #dean and sam #i think it'll add onto this post later #as i think of more things #because you best believe i will

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aylacavebear · 3 months ago

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The Traveler - Chapter 23 - A World Between Worlds

You're from a specific dimension, Solaris Eclipse. It was a dimension of magic. When your kind, the Eldrathiren, turned fifteen, your unique power would awaken within you. Most times, it was something small, levitation, teleportation, creation, elemental manipulation, and things like that. Once in a while, a fifteen-year-old would just disappear, and those were called Travelers. None of them had ever returned. Your parents had told you stories about them, and you hoped that wouldn't happen to you.

Please don't take my work. I'll post warnings for each chapter. Will probably be 18+ I haven't decided yet!

Word Count: 3367

Pairing Eventually Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You & Sam Winchester x OC Reader/You

Warnings: Longing, Navigating a New Dimension.

----------------------------------------- Chapter - 23 - A World Between Worlds

The world you found yourself in was both beautiful and bizarre, a collision of contrasting elements that danced on the edge of your perception. The sky above was a tapestry of worlds floating in the air, like bubbles caught in a gentle breeze. You let your gaze drift to these different places, curious about what they held.

Some of these worlds were vibrant and teaming with life, their landscapes lush and green, with wives that shimmered in the light. Others were dark and ominous, their surfaces shrouded in shadows that seemed to move and writhe on their own accord, giving off an unsettling aura.

The scent you had been following seemed to be all around you, saturating the air, and it was mildly frustrating. It had finally come after you’d waited for it for what felt like far too long, and now you were here. It was everywhere and nowhere at once, offering no clear path forward. So far, none of the worlds looked like Earth. There were similar ones, but somehow, you knew they weren’t the one you were seeking.

Well, now what am I supposed to do?

It didn’t matter which way you turned or went; the scent was there. Plus, none of those worlds got any closer. With a heavy sigh, you sat down and leaned against a nearby tree, the bark rough against your back, even through your jacket. This place was still a little blurry, and out of focus, like you were looking through a smudged window.

Taking a moment, you scented the air again, trying to make sense of the various smells. The familiar scent was there, along with the earthy aroma of damp soil, like the air after a fresh rain. There was also something else, a scent that you couldn’t quite place, something that felt both foreign and familiar at the same time.

If I can’t get closer to any of the worlds and the scent isn’t guiding me anywhere specific, then how do I keep going?

You weren’t sure how long you sat there, leaning against the tree, trying to figure out how you were going to navigate this particular world. Looking up at the sky through the canopy above, you thought about the brothers, Earth, and the experiences you had there. The longer you sat there, the more you realized that the scenery hadn’t changed and had almost seemed to repeat itself as if you had been walking in a loop.

Why does it seem like I’m in the middle of dimensions? Maybe if I just focus more.

Determination flared within you as you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, focusing on the images of the brothers and the familiar places of Earth. You tried to visualize the path you needed to take, the world you wanted to reach. Slowly, the sounds around you faded away, leaving only the steady rhythm of your heartbeat and the scent that surrounded you.

Please, I want to go home…

As you concentrated, the world began to shift again, the blurriness lifting slightly. Slowly, you opened your eyes. The path ahead seemed to clear, the trees becoming more defined, their rustling softly in the breeze. The world still seemed drained of color, but it at least wasn’t as blurry as before. There were still several worlds in the distance, and now, they all resembled Earth in different ways.

“It’s not fair!” you yelled out in frustration, your voice echoing through the empty forest. It was a cry of longing and exasperation, a plea to the universe to bridge the gap that kept you from where you belonged.

Hanging your head, you stood and continued walking along the never-ending path. Each step felt heavy, the weight of your emotions pressing down on you. Sometimes, you thought you heard familiar voices coming from the dimensions that taunted you in the distance, but you refused to look at them. The allure of those voices, so similar to those of the brothers, was almost too much to bear.

It was easier before, before I felt this threat that connects me to them.

It had been easier traversing different worlds before you felt the thread that connected your soul to the brothers. Now that the connection was there for you, it hurt that you couldn’t seem to find your way back to them. The connection made the distance between you feel even more insurmountable, a chasm that seemed to grow wider with each passing moment.

You weren’t paying attention to your surroundings, attempting to also drown out the voices in the distance around you that almost beckoned you to the worlds you couldn’t reach. If you didn’t, you knew you’d look in every direction you heard their voices come from, and it would end up either driving you mad or depressing you. To take your mind off of it all, you pulled out something to nibble on, hoping the focus on the tastes would help.

Is this what it feels like to be lost between worlds? you wondered, chewing slowly on the morsel in your hand. The taste was familiar, grounding you in the present moment. It was as if each bite held the memories of the places you’d been and the people you’d met. But even this was fleeting, a temporary distraction from the gnawing ache inside.

Time didn’t seem to exist here. No matter how long you walked, the time of day never changed. You couldn’t even tell where the sun even was, if there was one. The sky was a canvas of muted colors, neither day nor night, just a perpetual twilight that played tricks on your eyes. Perhaps it was twilight, or maybe not long after dawn—it was so unclear and confusing.

When the scent of moving water drifted through the air, you finally focused on your surroundings again. You were still in the forest, the path beneath your feet had widened, becoming more defined and worn, as if it had been used often. The edges of your vision were still slightly blurry, but your ears twitched, hearing the faint sound of a river nearby.

Water…

Water had connected you to every world you had been to. The warm feeling of hope began spreading through your body as goosebumps danced along your skin. You quickened your pace, drawn by the promise of the river, and the hope of finding a way home.

As you approached, the trees thinned out, revealing a wide, flowing river. Its waters were crystal clear, reflecting the colors of the sky above. The sound of the water rushing over the rocks was soothing, a gentle melody that eased the tension in your shoulders. You knelt by the riverbank, dipping your fingers into the cool water. The touch was refreshing, sending a shiver up your spine.

Without hesitation, you cupped your hands and dipped them into the waters, then brought it to your lips, drinking deeply. That familiar warmth spread through your body as soft electricity danced along your nerves, finally connecting you to this strange place. This world didn’t have a name. It wasn’t visited often, at least not as a whole. Pieces of it were visited, hence the worn path.

Each world you had seen in the distance through the forest, as well as in the skies above, were all different dimensions. Time truly didn’t exist here. There was only one sentient being in this world, and now, you felt drawn to find it. There were no animals or insect life, only flora and fauna that grew however it wanted. This world had no rules to govern it either.

This place might turn out stranger than Wonderland had been.

You looked around, noticing that the river seemed to flow in both directions at once, leading both forward and back. It clearly didn’t follow any sort of standard rules when it came to how water was supposed to flow. Your vision also seemed to clear, allowing this world to come fully into focus in front of you. At least now you understood why it had been blurred before. The way things moved made no sense to you.

It’s like organized chaos.

The thought made you chuckle a little as you watched some leaves sway in a nonexistent breeze while others were utterly still. For now, you decided to follow the stream, in the direction that this side of it flowed. You couldn’t see a way across it at the moment and didn’t trust wading through it, given how fast the current seemed to be moving.

As you walked along the riverbank, you noticed the trees had taken on different hues—some trunks were rich with emerald green, reminding you of Dean, while others shimmered with a metallic sheen, reflecting the light like polished silver. The leaves of the trees rustled softly, their movements seeming almost choreographed as if dancing to an unheard melody. The flora of this world defied all logic, yet it was undeniably captivating.

You reached a place along the river where stones dotted across it, most of them large enough to stand on. Briefly, you wondered if it was a wise idea, but when you looked to the other side of the river and saw the path again, you knew that was the way you were meant to go. You adjusted your bag over your shoulder, feeling its comforting weight, and began crossing the river.

The stones were sturdy, but the river seemed much wider now that you were attempting to cross it. You thought you’d only counted ten stones to reach the other side. However, that was ten stone ago and you still hadn’t reached the center yet. The current flowed around the stones with a mesmerizing fluidity, each wave creating a soft murmur as it brushed against the rocks.

You huffed with mild frustration as you stepped on the next stone. “Let me cross,” you practically demanded of the river, like it could hear and understand you. The water responded with a playful gurgle, the waves lapping at the stone with a teasing rhythm.

Almost as if it laughed at you, the water lapped in small waves as it crashed against the stones a little harder. “That’s not funny,” you grumbled under your breath, taking another step and finally reaching the middle where the two sides flowed in opposite directions. “Thank you,” you told it, still mildly frustrated at the way this world worked.

It took you just as long to cross this side as it had the other, and nearly two dozen stones later, you were finally on the other side. You glanced back at the river, noticing how there were only ten stones showing in the waters from one side to the other. The waters seemed to move as if it were laughing, having enjoyed giving you a hard time crossing it. You stuck your tongue out at the river, a childish move, but you didn’t care and then continued along the worn path that led into the forest on this side of the river. At least you hadn’t gotten wet.

Something else you began to realize as you walked along the path: the flora and fauna of this world were all its own, but also pieces of every other dimension that existed, all growing harmoniously together. The trees and plants were a patchwork of different worlds, some with leaves that shimmered like diamonds and others with bark as smooth as glass. Flowers bloomed in every color imaginable, their petals shimmering with an iridescent glow.

Then there were the ones that looked like Earth plants, completely plain and ordinary, making you miss being there even more. It was the plantlife from the darker worlds that seemed completely out of place among the vibrancy of colors with their knarled branches with buds that looked dead, but some had bloomed into wilted flowers.

It felt like hours passed, but the shade of “day” never changed, still like the twilight hour of early morning or dusk. The path wove through the trees, with the only sounds being the leaves as they rustled whenever they felt like it, breeze or not. A small pebble—or perhaps it was a seed—caught your attention in the middle of the path. You picked it up, letting it roll to the center of your palm. One side was completely flat, smooth like polished marble. The other side was slightly domed. Upon closer inspection, you realized it was a piece of metal. Its color was dark and almost reminded you of unworked iron. You slipped it into your bag, then continued on your way.

The air was filled with the scent of different worlds—a mix of earthy moss, sweet nectar, and the faintest hint of sea breeze. It was a heady mixture, swirling around you and blending with the scent that called to your soul. As you continued walking, the path twisted and turned, leading you deeper into the heart of the forest. The dimensions in the distance never got any closer, and you could still hear the distant voices, but they were muffled, like whispers carried on a nonexistent wind.

The path began opening up again as the trees thinned, allowing more bushes, flowers, and numerous grasses to grow in the strange light. The plants here seemed to defy gravity, some growing sideways or even upside down, their leaves reaching toward the light from all directions. Eventually, the trees thinned completely, giving way to a beautiful meadow.

In the center stood a massive tree, its trunk gnarled, both beautiful and horrific, as its branches stretched out like welcoming arms. The bark was a deep, rich brown, with intricate patterns that seemed to tell a story of ages past. The tree seemed to pulse with a life of its own, its leaves shimmering with color while also dotted without any at all. It was a strange blend of both the vibrancy of life and the things you’d seen from lifeless lands. It felt ancient.

Slowly, you approached it, noticing how its massive roots spread out like veins across the meadow and into the forest, while they also gave the impression of burying deep within the soil. The roots twisted and turned, some reaching up towards the sky while others burrowed deep into the earth, creating a small labyrinth of wood and earth. It was a sight to behold.

I was wondering when you would find your way to me, Y/N, a soft voice echoed in your mind.

A shiver ran down your spine, and you realized that this was the sentient being you had felt back at the river's edge. “How do you know my name?” you asked, both curious and a feeling you couldn’t quite describe.

Light laughter danced through your mind as a soft light pulsed throughout the tree, matching the rhythm. I knew you the moment you entered my world, seeing your past, your present, and your future. You seek them.

Goosebumps tickled their way down your arms, and you dared to hope. “Can you tell me how to get back to them?” your voice shook as the words left your lips, mixed with a hope you couldn’t hide.

A small metal object floated down from somewhere within the canopy of branches, leaves, and flowers, dangling on a chain. It hovered between you and the tree like it was frozen in time. This will guide you, but it is only a piece of a larger puzzle. Your journey is coming close to its end, Y/N.

You felt a tear slip down your cheek as the tree’s words whispered through your mind. Your hand shook slightly as you reached out and took the object, rubbing your thumb over its surface. The metal felt cool and smooth, a comforting weight in your hand. It was in the shape of a pentagram, reminding you of the tattoos the brothers had gotten, without the flames or the circle.

“How will it guide me?” you asked as you slipped the chain over your head, letting the pendant rest over your shirt.

I know you still have the stone from the sky. Place it in the center, then follow the scent again.

With a renewed sense of hope and determination, you pulled the small sphere from Levithar Labyrinth out of your pouch and set it in the center of the pentagram pendant. The sphere floated in the center, never touching any of the sides, and began to spin, slowly at first, then faster, until it was a blur of colors melding into one another. A faint, ethereal glow emanated from the sphere, bathing the pendant in a warm, pulsating light.

You felt that thread that connected you to the brothers gently tug at you, beckoning you back the way you’d come. “Thank you,” you whispered to the tree, feeling a deep sense of gratitude and respect. You took a shaky breath, trying to steady your racing heart, and turned away from the tree.

Remember, Y/N, time moves differently here. It passes its own way. Do not be discouraged when you find your way.

As you looked back in the direction you’d come from, the scent danced playfully around you, like a playful cat teasing with a piece of string. The tree’s words rippling through your mind. The dimensions still appeared to hover in the same ethereal distance as before, but you let the scent and the pendant’s glow guide you. The scent pulled you off the path, leading you between the trees of the forest. Normally, you would have already shifted to another dimension, but you reminded yourself that this world was different; it had no rules.

The forest seemed to embrace you as you walked, the trees closing in around you like old friends welcoming you home. The leaves whispered secrets to one another in a language you couldn’t quite understand, but the melody was soothing, calming your restless thoughts. The path was no longer visible, but you didn’t feel lost. Instead, there was a strange sense of familiarity, like you had walked these woods a hundred times before.

As you ventured deeper into the forest, the other dimensions remained elusive, their voices growing faint and distant. The only thing that mattered was the scent leading you forward, growing stronger with each step. The pendant around your neck seemed to act as a beacon, honing in on something intangible from this current world. The scents of this world—the earthy moss, the sweet nectar, the sea breeze—all faded away, leaving only the scent of the brothers, clear and distinct.

The forest floor was soft under your feet, a carpet of fallen leaves and moss that muffled your footsteps. You paused for a moment, closing your eyes and letting the scent wash over you. It brought waves of calm to your entire body, mind, and soul, and you knew you were getting close.

Opening your eyes, you continued forward, following the scent and the faint glow of the pendant. The forest seemed to shift around you, the trees parting to reveal a new path, one that hadn’t been there before. On either side of the path, two mushrooms, nearly as high as your knees. Excitement and anticipation coursed through you as you could almost see the scent in the air, beckoning you to move forward.

I’m coming home…, you thought, and with hope, you stepped forward as the world changed around you.

The familiar surroundings of the bunker came into focus. You were standing in the war room, and it looked as though nothing had changed from your last visit. Turning to look toward the library, you noticed a man sitting at one of the tables, his back to you, papers, books, and objects spread out before him. He almost reminded you of Sam.

“Sam?” you called out, your voice a mix of curiosity and caution as you took a few tentative steps forward.

The man turned around and stood up, and you stopped, taking a step back, feeling apprehensive. It wasn’t Sam. He wasn’t even Dean or John. He was a stranger, and your heart sank, instantly.

But… I thought I was going home.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 24 - Earth, End of January 2002

Link to the series Masterlist.

A/N: If you'd like to get in on the Dimensional Traveling, go to this link and leave me with a comment, or several, with as much or as little detail about the dimension you'd like the Traveler to end up in. If you'd like to have something specific happen, share that too. I'll make sure that you get credit for the idea you shared in the chapter in which your dimension is featured. I'd love to have as many readers involved as possible. I think this could be a lot of fun.

As always, if you'd like to be tagged, let me know and I'll add you to the tag list. If I missed anyone, please let me know.

Tag List: @littlemadamred @mxltifxnd0m @foxyjwls007 @supernaturalfreakout @roseblue373

@flamencodiva @reignsboy19 @stillhere197 @hobby27 @megs-gadom

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valleeslunaires · 2 months ago

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ɪɴᴛʀᴏᴅᴜᴄɪɴɢ ᴍʏ sᴘɴ ᴅʀ (ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴏʀᴅs, ʜᴏᴍᴇ)

this dr happens back in the season 4, in 2008

name: Amalia Castilla

nickname/s: Lia

age: 24

birthday: 21/12/1984

gender: female

pronouns: she/her

sexuality: straight

nationality: spanish

face claim: aysa aysin turan

specie: fire summoner

the most rare and powerful type of summoner, the last one was seen for the last time in 1830s.

if not well controlled, fire is the most powerful power but also the most dangerous, most affected by the emotions.

visuals:

backstory: (just the main parts cuz it's pretty long)

i'm from a small town in spain called alicante, my family is well known in all spain and europe for being an old money family (little did they know the witch blood that ran in our veins). My family and i never got along for them wanting to decide my future as they did with my older sister (that for her education was raised almost all her life in london). Dalia and i don't even look sisters as how much we don't see (or even talk) each other, she having a brilliant future, being the favorite perfect daughter giving me the reputation of being the black one.

with all the troubles in home including daily fights and all that, i found myself in the night, parties, drinks... wild teenager years.

When i turned 20, i went to college in oxford, law school. When i graduated moved to Beacon, NY.

I hadn't figured out about my powers until weeks ago when it started to wake up along memories of my childhood: when i was 5 i burned a chalet with myself inside and survived totally fine, my family realized before me what that could mean and erased my memories.

s/o:

name: Dean Winchester

age: 29

trope: strangers to lovers to "enemies" to lovers

how we met:

4 years ago, when i was in my first break from college, visiting madrid i ran into dean in a hotel bar. He was vising madrid along his father to visit his father's friend. We spent the night together and so the next days (for my surprise, cuz he looked like a cad). We spent those magic days like we were really something more. Then the day of him leaving arrived, he made the promise he would call me again (which he obviously didn't keep).

Now we ran into each other again when he comes to solve a case along Sam in beacon, NY.

plot (things that i changed):

even thinking about kicking lisa out of the story, i love a drama! so i'm keeping her in! (i even already thought about a very dramatic situation that im not goin' to say, i dont wanna receive hate)

the ep 19, season 1 will happen on the season 4 cuz it happens exactly on the city i live in! context: my friend will be one of the people that'll buy the cursed portrait

for now that's all! just showing a bit of one of my main drs!! i'll bring reports from there soon <3

#shifting blog #shifting realities #shifting community #dr s/o #shiftblr #shifting antis dni #introducing my dr #dean winchester #spn dr #spn script #desired realities #dr scrapbook #𝒶𝓂𝓎'𝓈 𝒹𝓇

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glygriffe · 10 months ago

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Fic rec for the first month of 2024

What can I say? I read fics and visualize all the lovely images in my head instead of creating something new. It's the best way to procrastinate. It almost feels like co-creating.

Here are my favourite stories read in January

Supernatural

Said the Salmon to the Sea: a wonderful one-shot about water-creature Dean reflecting on self-change. By @bendingsignpost (Dean x Castiel)

Touch Starved: a little fluff and angst by @silent-stories (Dean x GN!Reader)

Memory Lane - Sam Winchester: Reader is an old friend of Sam and they revisit some of their time together at the university. A short prompt story by @girls-alias (Sam & Reader)

It Just Happened: a small AU fic where Dean « accidentally » kissed Castiel by @one-more-offbeat-anthem (Destiel)

Regarding Sam: a missing scenes/coda fic around the episode Regarding Dean, from the POV of Rowena. By @amaranthhiding (Rowena x Sam)

Inner Demon: a Crowley against humanity fic (in the same sense Metatron says to Castiel that humanity is his weakness if I say so myself), written by @petrichoravellichor on AO3. Set during 10x02: Reichenbach. (Crowley x Dean)

The Rest: an angsty fic inspired by a Station Breaks song. Original characters and old favourites appear in this story by @mrswhozeewhatsis. (No pairing)

Original Work

Untitled original work: a short prompted sci-fi story about war androids and humanity by @fox-bright (No pairing)

#spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #rec list #destiel fic #samwena #gen fic

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markiafc · 19 days ago

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so it’s been on my mind since u mentioned having hopes for where the spn plot goes, if you haven’t posted them already i would loveee love to hear your thoughts 👀

i've tried answering this off-and-on, then got really busy, then forgot what i was thinking of when i left that comment about possible ends for sammy winchester. i said it when i was watching s2, you sent me this ask when i was watching s3, and i'm answering it now while over halfway into s4.

the bottom line is exactly like what the show is foreshadowing: all the psychic stuff and/or demon blood stuff is only going to escalate, and inevitably, reach a destructive peak wherein sam is no longer himself. he's going to hurt people. or maybe that doesn't happen, but the dark power feels so overwhelming and painful it scars him deeply. forever.

it's primarily because i was so taken by s1e9 home, when sammy first starts having intense and violent visions about his childhood home + s1e14 nightmare where sam connects with the other psychic boy who was abused by his father and uncle. and the sinister nature and origin of their powers starts to really take shape.

at the time, i didn't have all the details i have now - the sordid history between yellow-eyes and the winchester family and the demon blood feeding. i just love the narrative thread where...... there's a really scary, bad, and evil force/agent out there. you've been hurt by it, likely when you were very young. and now you're older, that dark touch manifests as the preternatural.

summer sons' andrew blur, who is a very important person to me, can fall under this umbrella pretty nicely. sammy's blood-feeding reveal.... that was huge for me, it validated the comparisons i made in my head between s1 sammy and andrew. andrew's ghost shit, his ambiguously ominous powers, his connection with the gothic-but-real. (spoilers..?) it stems from him being 12 and forcefully fed human blood. it inducts him into the blood owner's cursed family. the way that metaphor was in summer sons, i connect to spn and sammy. it's not a one-to-one of course, one story just enriches the other and my readings of both.

the other part of this is that sammy winchester is... also like star wars' anakin skywalker. ruby makes a similar reference in s4e9, "sam going dark side", was super exciting for me because it's how i've understood his arc too! he's framed as the evil brother, dean the good brother a la anakin, obi-wan, etc.

and, i mean. anakin's moral character deteriorates, he is increasingly accosted by horrific visions, he's so isolated and pained, he seeks the guidance of the devil. and then vaders out. andrew ultimately secures a better ending for himself, but the road is rough. similar deal, fucked up powers, violent visions and dreams that wound his psyche and his body. he gives in more and more to that dark feeling inside him, can't stop tapping into that power. in another world, one that i think about a lot, it leads to andrew committing suicide. that's the trajectory of it i think, his awful spiral. but his intervention arrives and things change.

i don't know how sam's arc is going to wrap up at the end of s5. but i know more or less the themes, the feelings involved with his narrative because i've been here before. so far i'm getting what i want - sammy playing peekaboo with his demon blood & associated qualities. back and forth with ruby, arguing with dean about it. the visual of sweat + migraines + nosebleeds. the sick and twisted pleasure it gives him to perform these little mind tricks.

i hope it blows up in his face. i hope it wrecks him completely, maybe even beyond repair. i hope sam becomes the biggest, baddest fucker in demon town to a brother who's been to hell. and they argue at each other about it a ton. everyone knows something very bad is waiting to happen to sammy winchester, and i sure hope it does......!!!!!

#me is mark #long but true and honest #i started watching spn in relation to summer sons. summer sons studies if you will.#so the connection in my mind is destined #plus also sammy's character setup and arc just appeals to me on a base level #i've had this itch scratched by other stories/characters before #pondered a lot about them and my feelings #so old thoughts for another are already coming out fully-formed for sam #a violated cursed selfish boy detached from the rest of human society 😌😌😌#anyway ily gromky <3 hope this was a satisfactory answer to an old ask

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panicroomsammy · 11 months ago

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13.14.15.

I’m doing these about Supernatural because I have so many thoughts about it right now!

13 - Unpopular opinion about XXX character?

This isn’t really an unpopular opinion among my circle of mutuals but Sam Winchester is not a dom and Dean Winchester is not a sub, and I think assigning them these roles indicates a superficial understanding of the show’s themes surrounding sexual assault. For Dean, most of his “queer coding” pre season eight is really just him being implied to have been a SA victim, but the combination of him playing it off like it’s nothing and fans being uncomfortable engaging with those themes makes it go unnoticed. Dean being used as bait is not queer coding no matter how much he acts like he’s fine with it - if looking harmless and pretty so your father can catch evil men doing something bad is a metaphor for anything it is a metaphor for sexual abuse. So when people make him a sub based on things he does/says about these kind of situations I find it very frustrating. If anything I would think that his history of trauma with men would make him feel the need to be in control if he ever had sex with a man consensually.

Sam on the other hand, while I do understand that some people see him repeatedly being deprived of bodily autonomy and control in other areas of life so they think he would want to be in control during sex (the thing that I think applies to Dean but that many ignore in regards to Dean - Samgirls are more open to exploring these themes which I appreciate), I do not think he would be this way with Dean. We repeatedly see the opposite in their canon non sexual dynamic. When Dean hits Sam more often than not Sam does not fight back. Sam repeatedly is forced to apologize and say Dean was right when Dean was clearly in the wrong. Whenever Sam tries to leave he always comes crawling back to Dean and apologizes for leaving. I know some people like to subvert tropes, but when I like a pairing from a show it is because I want to see their exact canon dynamic plus sex. I just don’t see the canon dynamic between Sam and Dean translating to Sam being a dom in this particular relationship.

14 answered separately because this post would be so long otherwise lol

15 - Unpopular opinion about the manga/show?

Supernatural isn’t bad. I mean, sure, the quality of the writing declined over time as it changed from being made because someone had a story they wanted to tell to a story being told because people want to make money, but it really isn’t that bad. The first two seasons are two really good seasons of television. The rest of the show does a decent job of sticking to its themes. The camera work and editing are fucking phenomenal but we never talk about how good Supernatural is at creative camera stuff because we don’t talk about the show’s strong points. The found footage kind of episodes are so fun and well done. The episodes where they deal with small spaces are so visually interesting and the camera work is incredible at conveying claustrophobic feelings that give those episodes a stronger horror - and especially gothic horror - overtone. The way that they film the characters from the point of view of whatever they’re hunting that is watching them works to create an unsettling horror vibe while also giving the audience clues as to what the monster is (or at other times misleading the audience before a big reveal). All of this is genuinely well done but we don’t talk about it enough because of the “spn bad” mentality.

(I have had this in my drafts forever and just remembered to post it)

#sa mention

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mlobsters · 1 year ago

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supernatural s11e8 just my imagination (w. jenny klein)

this uh, sounds interesting. oh, i've scrolled past gifs of this guy, try to skip by anything with an actor i don't recognize nowadays

DEAN Dude. Who you talking to? SAM Him? DEAN Are you having a stroke? Do you smell toast?

the sleepy face and morning voice but asking the questions while also making that face, very cute. 10/10 (wanna hear about how smelling burning isn't actually a classic symptom of stroke)

i, too, was taken aback by the marshmallows nachos, dean.

DEAN Come on?? Are you kiddi… Look… This… mother… You and me, library, right now. Come on!

dad's pissed

SAM Dean, when I was nine years old, you know what I wanted more than anything? Marshmallow nachos. DEAN Yeah, you were a weird-ass kid.

marshmallow nachos plot device

SAM In Romanian lore, Zanna are creatures who guide and protect lost children. Zanna intentionally appear as figments of a child’s imagination, allowing the child to move on with confidence once guidance is no longer necessary. Maybe Sully’s telling the truth. DEAN Okay. Say Bozo is legit. Right? Which, you know – hello crazytown, but okay. How is this our problem?

don't be an asshole, dean

DEAN Good. The Bert and Ernie pretext. Awesome.

if the shoe fits...

DEAN You know, this whole imaginary friend thing was dumb then and it’s dumb now. SAM Yeah, you’ve made that pretty clear. DEAN You didn’t think to tell me he was real? SAM Well, Dean, I didn’t think he WAS. You saw the lore book too, I mean, maybe when I was nine years old I thought he was real, but I grew up. Or grew out of it. Whatever. I left it.

don't particularly enjoy when they do this. dean's an ass, sam gets hurt and we feel sad for him.

DEAN And what did you need Drop Dead Fred for in the first place? SAM I was kind of a lonely kid, Dean. DEAN You weren’t lonely. You had me!

preemptively getting upset. you had me, except when you were old enough (according to john winchester) to stay for who knows how long alone. you know, at that big age of 9 years old. episode makes it seem like we're supposed to be upset with dean but this is all dad. and how exactly did john take dean hunting when he was younger than 9, where was sam. bobby? pastor jim? let me tell you the logistics get more preposterous the more you think about it, and with every new little backstory they decide to toss in

comedy music and all, at least the visual gag was compelling what with the sparkly blood all over her hands and face

DEAN The whole family. Yeah, just get the whole gang in there… You know, the family that showers together… Kay.

dean.

combining this cracky murder mystery story with more groundwork of how sad and alone sam was as a kid, and how he spent so much of his life wanting to run away, blergh. meanwhile we see dean at that group home as a kid and considering staying, but seeing sam makes him decide to go home with them. thinking about it too much and making myself upset! great!

you can't make me cry and then have an extended air guitar demo by bleeding imaginary friend man.

slight reassurance that it's not that sam wants to run away from them, but that he just doesn't want to be left alone. which is a totally logical and understandable - especially for a fucking 9 year old - way to feel.

SULLY Yeah, it was really bad. You know, I’m not gonna lie to ya – when you went off to hunt, I considered that one of my biggest failures. It just seemed so clear to me that you wanted something else. But – I was wrong. And it all worked out, didn’t it? SAM I don’t know about that.

SULLY Come on. You’re a hero. Sam, you saved the world. I keep track of my kids. And you did really good, Sam.

real nice for someone to actually call out what sam did right

SAM Well… Not all good. There was some bad. And some really bad. Sully – I screwed up. I let something out into the world that was… SULLY You mean the Darkness? That’s what the others are calling it, I’ve just heard rumors. SAM I’m gonna fix it. I am. Dean and I, we’re – we’re gonna fix it. It’s just…

sam is being so vulnerable and earnest, hurts. good job, padalecki

SAM There’s this Cage in hell, and it’s where they keep Lucifer. And I’ve been in it, and it’s… And I think God wants me to go back. SULLY Ever think… about running away anymore? SAM I did. Um, I mean, I have. But not in a while. Not anymore.

so i'm not sure what direction that's to be taken. is running away going to the cage (surely not) then running away from the perceived responsibility of needing to do it? but we can't counsel sam on that without knowing for sure who's telling him this. because i mean sam has mentioned lucifer like, 4 times this episode. did you consider sam, my love, that lucifer is involved in the messages

DEAN Trust me. Revenge? Ain’t gonna make you feel better. Listen, I’ve seen more than my share of monsters. And I mean REAL monsters, bad. These guys? These are Sesame Street Mother Teresas. But when I wasn’t there for my little brother, Sully was.

will always take when dean admits he was wrong and didn't see how him not being around affected sam, but the setup went a little too hard (imo) on dean being a clueless jerk. first appearance of the mushy music i think in s11.

SAM Sully. One thing I’ve learned – heroes aren’t perfect. SULLY Mm. Sometimes they’re scared. But that just means the thing that they’re facing, it’s super important. And nobody else is gonna go for it, because nobody else has got the balls.

damnit sully.

SAM Dean, we need to seriously discuss me going to the Cage. DEAN Okay. Not happening. Good talk. – Sam, even if these visions are real… SAM Yeah. It’s Lucifer? And me? In the Cage? I know. But this – this lump in my throat… It’s not an excuse. Not anymore. DEAN We’ll find another way. Okay? There’s always another way. SAM Okay. Then tell me – what is the other way?

did they not have this conversation back in whatever, first trip to the cage? s5? when they had 99% more information than they do right now. i cannot believe. I CANNOT BELIEVE we're making decisions without knowing FOR SURE who the visions are coming from. and why isn't sam more suspicious they're from lucifer? ok, so he's all traumatized by lucifer and thinking with his emotions and fear and feeling like he deserves the punishment. but hell, DEAN. since he's all dubious. how about a position that's reasonable what with sam's and their history, that the visions are from someone - but if not god, then WHO

#supernatural #spnwatch #spn 11x08 #jenny klein #spn mushy music #crack and crying not my favorite combo if i'm honest

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