#standford-era

[eastofedean]

save me stanford era dean save me

[iz-belljolie]

Guys I need Stanford era Art in my life rn

need that munch…

[witchy-worm]

Here's my final art post for @deancashorrorfest! Thanks to @howldean for claiming this one and bringing another Standford Era Dean fic into the world!

Check out the fic here: LINK TO FIC

And thanks again to our @deancashorrorfest overlord for running this awesome event!

Banner and fic info behind the cut

no spill blood

story by @howldean | art by @witchy-worm created for @deancashorrorfest

rated: explicit | warnings/tags: graphic depictions of violence, stanford era, creature!cas, case fic, dean is so sick of witches, identity porn, angst

summary: A witch hunt becomes far more than that when Dean rescues an unassuming, innocent, harmless stranger. But Castiel is more than he seems, and as the lines of their unlikely connection blur, so does the truth.

Revenge, plain and simple. Surviving to see it through, not so simple.

[hisbrotherskeeper]

I love fics where Sam leaving for Stanford is revelatory for Dean in terms of this sexual, romantic feelings for his brother. Like yes he obviously knew he had *intense* and *possessive* feelings but chalked it up to how they were raised.

Bonus points if after Sam leaves, dean goes on a bender and ends up picking up a dude as some sort of misguided attempt to stick it to Sammy, or get it out of his system or something.

[pasta-n00dles]

Sleepy Stanford Sammy anyone?

[coca-colas-truck-driver]

its a vastly different feeling from how he felt eyeing pretty women at bars than when he lost just enough self control to let himself check out sam (probably some time in the summer before he left for Stanford, the knowledge that he’ll be even more alone than he already is settling in); whose bent over a pool table trying to hassle money from an old southern guy with more bald spots than patches of hair at this point, while dean got them another round.

dads on a hunt across a different state line, with less words than usual before he left; just a gruff repeat of practically the only words he and dean exchange anymore, “take care of sammy for me”.

for the last however many years deans been pining for, he never let himself consciously check out sam. hes almost regretful of that when his eyes catch on sams ass, hes eternally grateful no one knows them here, has no idea they’re related, when sam turns around and almost immediately meets his eyes with a smile and wave. he barely even notices the old guy walk away from the pool table with twenty less dollars in his pocket, when he approaches instead with two of the cheapest beers the bar had in hand.

and hes never been stupid or blind, he can see how others also look at sammy-watching him with such interest, its disgusting-so he trails a wandering hand across sams waist then his back as he walks past. its not bold enough to draw suspicion from sam himself, but makes the women who were peeking glances at either of them, sigh and look away, resigned

he feels a little petty, but mostly proud of himself for successfully warding off interested onlookers.

[ro-sham-no]

an excerpt from "dirty valentine" - richard siken

Dean touches the scar on his side and pretends it's the skin of a lanky, not-so-little kid who had (has) his big brother's heart sequestered inside his own bony ribcage but didn't (doesn't) know it.

Sam touches the scar on his side and pretends it's the skin of a young man who occupied (occupies) the space behind his little brother's sternum but didn't (doesn't) know it.

A short story about a pair of twin side-wounds.

--

It's been a week since Sam left for Stanford. For so long, it had been Sam-and-Dean; entirely entangled, perfectly synchronized. But now they are a monumental, practically unfathomable distance away from each other for the first time in their lives.

But their synchronicity doesn't just disappear now that they're apart. They have grown up so entwined that they emit the same frequency - unrecognizable to anyone but each other.

They are pieces of fabric sewn together after being shorn from the same cloth. Their lives spent constantly being shredded apart and getting their own threads woven back into the other until their fabrics were indistinguishable. Nothing so banal as time and space would ever be able to disrupt their resonance. Of course, neither of them knows this.

Their combined frequency reaches out to itself, stretching between the coasts. Unconsciously, they listen to it.

Somewhere on the East Coast, it's 5:56 am, and Dean Winchester is in the shower. He smooths a hand down his skin. Sliding it down his ribs, catching on a jagged scar - his mind flashes to the matching one he knows resides on Sam's own skin. Connected, synchronized, even through individual, independently-gotten hurts.

Sam had gotten his own side wound two weeks prior - the idiot kept tearing his stitches, otherwise it would've been mostly pinked-over by the time Dean got his. Dean's hadn't even been that bad, not really. He likely could've gotten away with just taping it shut using some clever bandage work and being cautious for a little while, no stitches needed. But Sam had just started doing stitches on his own, and he'd offered to sew Dean up, eager to return Dean's favor of repeatedly re-stitching Sam's skin back together oh-so-carefully. Of course Dean couldn't say no to the offer.

And if Dean noticed immediately - even as he received the injury - that it would match Sam's? If he'd sat subtly hunched over to one side so that Sam's stitches would be just slightly too tight and would scrunch up when Dean straightened, misaligning the healing wound into a raised line? Well, Sam wasn't experienced enough to know the difference.

And if Dean was purposefully careless in the coming weeks with how far he stretched out his side, pulling and tugging on the too-tight stitches just enough to make sure it would scar up, jagged and pronounced, just like his little brother's was turning out to be? Connecting him and Sam, forever? Well, Sam didn't need to know that, either.

Somewhere in a dorm on-campus at Stanford University, on the West Coast, it's 8:56 am, and Sam Winchester is in the shower. He smooths a hand down his skin. Sliding it down his ribs, catching on a jagged scar - pronounced from repeated abuse where he had accidentally torn out Dean's careful stitches again and again, unused to his newly lanky body at the time. His mind flashes to the matching one he knows resides on Dean's own skin. The one that started out so relatively minor, but that somehow had stayed around for such a long time.

Dean didn't let Sam take out the stitches until far past the time they should've been removed. When he finally did concede, they were stuck in Dean's skin, crusted and grown over. Sam had insisted on getting a warm washcloth to press over the stitches to loosen the skin, or loosen the stitches, or loosen something, because Sam couldn't stand the sight of Dean's skin stretching and tearing so unnaturally around the thread as he pulled. Dean wouldn't hold the cloth there himself - said he didn't need it, he could just pull the stitches out by his own damn self - but they were Sam's first stitches that he'd done all by himself, he wanted to be the one to take them out.

So Dean had sat, ever gracious in the face of Sam learning something new to do with hunting, and Sam had held the cloth against his side for what seemed like hours. It was probably 5 minutes, at most, but Sam swore it was an eternity. Sitting there, warm, wet cloth under his fingers, which sat on top of Dean's now warm, wet skin, which stretched over his warm, wet ribs, which protected his warm, wet lungs, which- so on and so forth, during this eternity. When Sam finally pulled the cloth away, he swore Dean shivered. It was just from the sudden temperature difference, surely (except that the washcloth had long gone cold).

The stitches came out easier after that, but still tugged and pulled at the skin they held together for so long. Dean didn't so much as twitch, except when Sam would adjust his hand on Dean's side to pull a different section of skin taught as he worked.

And if Sam took what even he knew was too much time, not to spare his brother any pain but rather to keep running his hands over this extension of himself that would be a part of Dean, forever? Marking him as Sam's, forever? Well, Dean didn't need to know that. He would probably just assume Sam was being overly cautious since it was his first time.

And if Sam noticed the similarity between their two side wounds and couldn't stop thinking about it, dreaming about it, secretly writing about it on papers he burned immediately after? Well, Dean didn't need to know that, either.

It's 5:58 am. It's 8:58 am. Two showers run simultaneously across the two coasts. A three-hour time difference between them, and yet they share this moment of naked vulnerability.

Dean touches the scar on his side and pretends it's the skin of a lanky, not-so-little kid who had (has) his big brother's heart sequestered inside his own bony ribcage but didn't (doesn't) know it. The space it leaves is refreshing and loyal and heady with devotion. It helps him breathe, his lungs filled with the reminder of his heart's keeper. The motel room's alarm clock, sitting on the bedside table, ticks past the hour. It's 6 a.m.

Sam touches the scar on his side and pretends it's the skin of a young man who put far too much weight on his own shoulders. A young man who occupied (occupies) the space behind his little brother's sternum but didn't (doesn't) know it. His presence is safe and warm and strong. It helps his heart beat, comforted by the ever-constant reassurance of his big brother. The dorm room's alarm clock, sitting on the bedside table, ticks past the hour. It's 9 a.m.

Their thoughts ring out over their own private radio wave, synchronized: I hope his scar never fades.

[gabriestat]

does sam think dean cannot read or what. each time dean does a literary reference he's like "what!?!?!" it's killing me rn how shock sam was when dean knew about the odyssey and vonnegut's works. i guess that the standford era was filled with dean watching movies on his own at motels rooms when john sent him solo. but maybe some of the TVs of those rooms didn't work if he was going to cheap motels to save money. it would be natural to pick whatever classic book he finds for like 2$ anywhere and just read it to pass the time when he isn't completely exhausted or passed out

[monsters-sinners-angels]

Episode one is : Sam either has or is about to have ‘everything he ever wanted’. And the viewer gets to decide if he gave it up for Dean, or if Dean took it away from him. 

[freetobecelestial]

day 6 of starcrosseddeancas drabble event : lonely

Lonely.

Such a simple word. Hardly feels like it could encapsulate everything Dean feels.

But still, lonely is what he is. To the bone.

Days like these are when he itches to call Sammy the most. But would he even answer? Probably not. Too busy being a good little law boy with a mysterious past and who never mentions his family. It’s better this way.

Lord knows John wouldn’t answer. And he’s the one Dean’s supposedly in contact with.

One of these days, a monster will kill Dean, wipe him straight off the face of the planet, and no one will have a clue.

That is, if the lonliness doesn’t kill him first.

Because it really might.

[iz-belljolie]

hiiii i have a text au request and it’s stanford!art x stanford!reader and they’re both so 😍😘💍👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨 for each other and art is like “marry meee” and she’s like “yesss! when’s the wedding??” but it’s a joke but they’re also serious and it’s all cutie and stuff (if that makes sense 😓😓😓)

it makes so much sense anon🙏

────୨ৎ────ᥫ᭡ ────୨ৎ────ᥫ᭡

𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚍!𝙰𝚛𝚝 𝚡 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚍!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

[localcanadiancreature62]

THE FUCKING OFFICE MEME WITH FORD AHAHAHAHAH

I think Ford is just obsessed with closing the rift at all cost while Dipper would be around living his life with the GF creatures and trying to get his grunkle out of the lab from time to time

[hahahahahangst]

Wander

Tags (as per my masterlist): ✔️

Summary:

Thirteen hours aren’t a long time.

Words: 235

AO3 LINK

---

I will be posting one of these each day for INKTOBER (but it's fanfic) 2023, a challenge I basically made up lol

It uses the INKTOBER prompts for fanfics! Of course feel free to join in if you think it could be cool

[damndeaniel]

my favorite line in like any fiction remains to be “far be it from me to keep the flower of you from flourishing,” just Imagine this being uttered right before sam goes to standford… id die

[cindol]

—𓄯ᩙ  the idea of Art Donaldson being the soft boyfriend who can get his girlfriend’s facade to soften came to me in a dream . (very short drabble )

art donaldson x fem reader

  𐙚⸝⸝꙳ — fluff, standford!art,

a / n — ngl, was in my flop era with this lil’ thing but i had to write sum art related.

getting you to be his girlfriend was not an easy task. Some men around talked about how Art must be really funny or be well endowed in the physical area but that was far from the truth. Art just happened to be the guy who managed to soften your tough demeanor.

for someone who was stone cold to dudes all it took was one date to settle on Art as your boyfriend. Really, you thought it wouldn’t lasts like your past relationships but this thing you had with Art was definitely sticking.

Art just made you relax and not be so on guard about everything like guys in your past and just be silly with him, like eating and feeding each other chocolate covered strawberries.

“no no babe, you’re practically forcing it in my mouth here.” Art chuckled grabbing at your wrists to stop you from completely just shoving the strawberry into his mouth.

you whined, furrowing your brows and pouting your lips out at him. “well then how am i supposed to feed another human being then? Since you’re so obviously experienced in it.” she sarcastically spat.

Art only chuckled at your sarcasm. Patrick did tell him it would be difficult. his exacts words being, “well she’s y/n l/n, girl’s not gonna be some mushy prissy little girl who’s experienced in that lovey dovey couple shit.”

Art took the strawberry from your hand onto another empty platter and grabbed a new chocolate strawberry. “you do it like… this.” then slowly put it into your mouth for you to bite on and your reaction is too teir for him how you blush and smack his hand away.

[moonstarsunearth]

Tashi's discourse about her tennis coaching is so silly to me. Challengers was inspired by the fact that pre-2020, tennis players couldn't talk or being coached at all by their coaches,so in the end of the day even in Art was receiving Tashi's coaching, he was alone on the court and the one taking decisions about his game. Now imagine if the movie was like now where coaches are allowed to coach during matches and you have players winning grand slams asking their coachs in some way what to do when they don't know,asking where to stand or how to play a point. Nobody say these coaches are controlling their players ,they are doing the job they were hired for. The most common take I see is " Tashi chose Art because she could tell her what to do without him confronting her,she controlled him and manipulated his game". Confront her for what ? Why a coach would want to work with a player that is confronting all their decisions and don't want to listen to them? Is the movie showing that she is forcing Art to do things that aren't right and he didn't want to do at all on the court?

If Art listens to her is more related that her advices are right,he trusted her,and she is brilliant tennis player and coach than just because he is a lapdog in love with her. The prove that they did an excellent job as a team is there, 6 grand slams in just six years in one the most difficult and competitive tennis' eras.

Even if you think that she had no right in telling Patrick about his game,she was right in what she told him,she said facts,"you could’ve won, but then you started tanking in the third set" and"You always think you’ve won before the match is over",what is true he was used to always win,being the best than when he was faced with adversity,he didn't change or adapt,just expected things to solve themselves or commited self-sabotage,so if he is where he is ,is because it was on "his own terms". And for me is so unserious, Tashi was watching his boyfriend's matches,she cared about him and his career ,she was watching him LOSE ALL HIS CHALLENGERS, is listening to him all the time on phone complaining about losing but she couldn't tell him anything about his game? Even if you believe she should'nt ,that I see people reducing all the time that fight to just Tashi trying to "control and manipulate Patrick's game but he wasn't a lapdog, he was completely right and so good he humbled her". And forgetting how he also mocked her duncanator nickname or devaluated her achievements in Standford.

Like yeah may be Tashi likes control,but what about if she is winner that wanted to date a winner that although is losing is trying at least to become better and not being lazy when Tashi is all the contrary? Did she have not the right to want that, as Patrick not wanting a girlfriend talking about tennis or his games? But then people used that fight to project Tashi as this extreme controllative coach and villainize her,when the movie isnt really showing that. If she is so controllative and bad why Patrick would be asking for her help and coaching after more than a decade?