#Dean was in Hell for more years than he was out from his perspective

[ananke-xiii]

About Sam Winchester.

[This post has been edited after my discussion with @samjgirl , @sam-winchester-admiration-league and after @adaav 's comment to my post. I really want to thank them for their time and for pointing many interesting points out. I wasn't well informed about the techniques of storytelling and I believe I lost a bit of focus after season 11. Now I'm actually happier as I've started to even more appreciate this character, so win-win for me!]

The character of Sam Winchester was my biggest surprise and my biggest disappointment while watching Supernatural (but it's not his fault). [EDIT: while I still don't particularly like (for now) s12-15, I've realized that my disappoint was more due to my ignonorance of storytelling techniques rather than by the way the character was written]

It was my biggest surprise because I had never related to a fictional character this much before. I think you just have to both be the younger sibling of a dysfunctional nuclear family and be trauma-bonded to your elder sibling to get it. I won't go into further details about it because it's a whole essay, but I have to mention it because I need to state that I feel a deep connection to Sam. We both made the same choices, the same "mistakes", the same sacrifices.

So I was astonished when I started Supernatural because of the way it felt true and real. I don't know if the writers lived similar experiences and were therefore able to tell this story truthfully, but they nevertheless did a hell of a job in describing the unique bond of two siblings trying their best to navigate their traumas.

From season 1 to 8-9ish, we see Sam morphing from being the hero of the story to one of the two main characters. [EDIT: this is incorrect, Sam has always been the hero of the story. I think I felt like he was "shifting" into a slightly less prominent role because Dean, as supporting protagonist, was given more space in order to proceed with the filler episodes]Slowly but surely, Dean also becomes the hero and I think that was fair. [EDIT: see above, technically this is incorrect, sorry lol!]You can't fully narrate the story of a bond withouth fully integrate one part of it. I loved all the parallels to Michael/Lucifer and Cain/Abel. I thought they were brilliant. The show allowed me to go deep inside and start sorting out some stuff I've lived. It really made me think a lot.

It's fair to say that the brothers' codependency was the crux of their problem. It was painful to watch and sometimed downright awkward but the writers got it all right: the otherwise unxeplicable and toxic jealousy they felt for one another, the inability to share their deepest feelings in way other than fighting, and hell yes, even Sam's decision to run away and not look for his brother after season 7. It was not OOC, it's exactly what he did when he was 18 and what John did as well 4 years after that. As a matter of fact, Sam is more similar to John than Dean could ever be.

It's definitely been a long journey but I find that the resolution of their codependency (in season ELEVEN!) was cleverly thought-out and brilliantly executed. It couldn't have happened before, the two bothers must have been either already in or close to their 30s to confront the knot, to acknwoledge the grip the trauma they've lived had on their life. Sometimes getting older does help and give you perspective. This might be why (as I've stated here) season 11 is my favourite one: it gives a sense of closure and hope.

However, here comes the biggest disappointment part. [EDIT: this is due to the fact that in part, I didn't fully get it]

After season 11 Sam morphs from one of the two main characters to a side character. [EDIT: incorrect, as per previous EDIT, Sam is always the hero and lead protagonist]The show must be about the brothers' bond and I'm okay with that. However, it looks like after season 11 the writers couldn't come up with new ideas to talk about this kind of bond. It felt like, other than co-dependency, the bond didn't have much to say. Therefore, both Sam and Dean almost go back to square one while they had all the possibilities to explore a new aspect of their relationship.

What could've been this new aspect? Easy: making them realize that the family they each wanted was, simply, different. This is just my opinion on the subject and how I've felt about season 12-15 so it's okay if you disagree. [EDIT: well, this is still my opinion, although it has nothing to do with Sam's narrative role in the story and more about my personal preference, so I think this is where I got confused]

In my opinion, from season 12 Sam is just a part of Dean's family. It's not "Sam&Dean"'s family. It's just Dean's. And I think the writers could've explored that in a more meaningful way. Let me explain: let's take Cas since he makes the perfect example for this scenario. Dean has repeatedly included Cas in the "family", he's called him not just his brother but "our brother". He includes Sam in the equation but I personally don't think Sam feels the same way. Sure, Sam cares for Cas and thinks he's family, but I think his idea of family is "Cas is my brother's husbandbest friend and therefore he's part of the family". He's extended family, kind of. [EDIT: this is still just my opinion and has nothing to do with Sam's narrative role. Although "family" is one of the themes of the show, it was not the only one]

My opinion is canonically backed because, aside from Rowena, all the members of the Winchesters Found Family are part of the family because Dean has allowed them, Dean has a deeper relatioship to them and ultimately because Dean decides who can enter the circle. This is totally in character and I love Dean for his ability to care and form deep bonds. [EDIT: this was also needed for Dean as a character because he's not the lead protagonist so he had to have something else in the story that was not necessarily connected to the mytharc]

However, this is not in Sam's character: Sam is the one who runs away, the one who wants to create his own family, the one who really needs to emancipate himself from his older brother. I truly wished the writers explored his passivity in "accepting" the status quo and made him, if not rebel, at least express his wants.

It would have been a moment in Sam's growth if he could've just, instead of running away, confronted his brother and stated that his desires were different, that he was part of Dean's family but it was not his family. Instead, we only have glimpes of what Sam really feels: he doesn't think of the bunker as his home, he doesn't ever say that he has a family (not surprisingly it's Dean that in "Lebanon" tells John "I have a family" and not Sam), he doesn't really have any other meaningful relationship aside from his brother.

Supernatural ending did him dirty, too. Not just for the awful wig and make-up but because the ending framed Sam as a two-dimensional character: "freed" from his brother and his brother's family, he finds a blurry wife, a dog, a son, a white picket fence. How sad is that? We never get to see Sam really connecting with anyone: all (and by all I really mean ALL) the women in his life, from his mother to one-night-stands while on the road passing through Ruby, end up dead (RIP Sarah Blake). Of course his wife at the end had to be a blurry figure in the backfround (she was not even besides him on his deathbed!): she was a testament to all of his past relationships. Like, seriously, apart from Dean, the ONLY lasting relationship Sam has throughout the whole series is with LUCIFER and this alone, I think, speaks volume. [EDIT: again this just relates to the fact that I'm not particularly fond of s12-15 and of the overall ending. Technically speaking, the ending makes sense. Whether I liked it or not is another issue]

In conclusion, after season 11 Sam is no longer an interesting character because the writers both downright refused to give him another substantial character to interact with and insisted once again on his codependency with Dean (which was already resolved). [EDIT, tbh it was a weak ending to begin with, LOL, I didn't like it even after I wrote it hahahhaa, but yeah, as this whole post proves Sam Winchester is far from being an uninteresting character because I just spent a frigging afternoon learning new things thanks to him so I guess he's like the gift that keeps on giving!]

Having said that, in my heart of hearts, Sam Winchester will always have a special place because I get him, I really do.

#we need to talk about sam winchester #sam winchester #spn meta #supernatural meta #supernatural #sibling bonding #codependency #spn season 15 #spn finale #this show did my boy dirty #castiel #found family #dean winchester #justice for sam winchester

[minefield-of-a-ninja]

CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 5

Summary (request from @thesassywallflower​ for @spnfanficpond​ Secret Santa): Donna is horrified to learn that the boys have never had a proper Christmas, so she invites them to her house for the holiday.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Donna Hanscum

Warnings/tags: explicit (eventually), fluff (? Idk), angst (? light), domestic (can’t get much more domestic)

Chapter WC: 2000

Author’s notes: There will be multiple chapters to this -- at least three, and they will all be written in 3rd person POV, shifting perspective in each section.

Many thanks and love to my dear friend and the very best beta ever @brrose-apothecary​.  Text divider by @talesmaniac89​.

________________________________________________________________

“That’s it,” Donna exclaims, after wiping down her machete and carefully replacing it in its secure case in the bed of her truck. “You two’re comin’ home with me.”

She’s hyper-aware that the Winchesters didn’t have the most conventional upbringing, but, dangit, how many more times will they break her heart with stories about never going to a Christmas party or experiencing the joy of opening gifts on Christmas morning?

“C- coming home with you?” Dean wonders aloud as if he’s testing the words in his mouth. As if she uttered the invitation in Old Norse.

“Yes, Dean. To Stillwater.” Donna turns to face the brothers who both eerily resemble that deer she missed by a hair’s breadth on Highway 95 last week. “Jody and the girls’ll be there, and all’s you need’re the clothes on your backs. We can stop at the dollar store down the street for you two to pick up a couple white elephant gifts.”

“Dollar store?” Dean asks, looking thoroughly bereft of understanding.

“Dean, stop repeating everything that comes out of my mouth. And close yours while you’re at it; you look like a drowning guppy.”

Donna rounds the side of her pickup to stride toward the driver’s side door. The brothers shuffle after her like a couple of 10-year-olds who’d rather be playing Super Mario than endure whatever perceived Hell she’s invited them to.

“Donna...” Sam lets his words hang in the air while both brothers huff and puff condensation into the frigid night air and fidget after her. “We’ve never been to a Christmas party or anything like that.” 

“That’s why you’re coming to mine. No excuses.” She spins on her heel and stares them down as they exchange looks and unspoken words.

Dean’s the one who breaks first. He swings his narrowed gaze back to her.

“Will there be mistletoe?” he asks pointedly.

Donna tries not to think about Dean and mistletoe at the same time. Not that she’s never imagined kissing him, but now is not the time.

She snorts and rolls her eyes. “Of course! What kinda Christmas party would it be without mistletoe?”

Dean grins before slapping his brother on the back. “Well, Sammy, looks like we’re gonna have Christmas after all. Ya know, one without a Wood Nymph.”

“Huh?” Donna furrows her brow in question.

Sam shakes his head. “Never mind, long story,” he mutters. “I guess we’ll follow you?”

Donna claps her hands together as she nods, bouncing on her toes. “You betcha!”

“Can’t believe we almost passed this up,” Dean mutters to Sam as they unpack their bags, making a load of laundry. They each showered in Donna’s guest bathroom and she gave them some old clean sweatpants and t-shirts of her dad’s to wear for the night.

“Yeah, it’s nice,” Sam agrees quietly, tossing his last pair of underwear to the floor. He’s pleased that Dean sees the value here in Donna’s home.

Ever since they defeated Chuck, Sam has tried a dozen different ways to get Dean out of the bunker and into a real house and real jobs. Dean seems frozen in time, though, like he can’t see that they can do just about anything they want now. They’re regular hunters — no angels or demons to battle (Jack and Rowena have seen to that). In fact, most of the monster world has quieted and stays in their own lanes.

“Imagine having this on the regular.” Sam tests the waters. “A washer and dryer from this century?” he chuckles, scooping up the dirty clothes and shaking his damp hair out of his face.

“Yeah, well, I doubt Donna wants a couple salty old hunters camped out in her guest room for the rest of her life.” Dean turns down the covers of his borrowed bed and inspects the pillow. “‘Sides, I like havin’ my own room.”

Sam watches Dean smooth his hands over the bedding, wondering...

He knows how Dean feels about Donna, even though his brother’s never put those feelings into words. Sam’s seen the way Dean looks at her, the way he touches her like she’s made of glass, and the tone of his voice when he says her name. Dean adores Donna, but even more than that, he wants her.

“What if...” Sam starts then pauses, shifting his weight. When Dean turns to face him with a questioning brow and wistful smile, he forges ahead. “What if you could share it with someone like Donna?”

Dean almost rolls his eyes as he slowly straightens his stance. His soft smile twists as he meets his brother’s gaze. Sam worries that he’s pushed Dean too far.

“And now we’re back to Donna deservin’ a lot better than...” Dean shakes his head and motions between himself and his duffle bag.

“Heya,” the woman in question sing-songs as she pokes her head around the door. “How ya doin’ in here? Need anything?”

Dean’s edge immediately smooths at the sight of the sheriff.

“Hey,” he answers with a quick, practiced grin. “We’re good. Better than. Just, uhh...” He reaches for the bundle in Sam’s arms. “Gonna throw this stuff in your washer if that’s okay?”

Sam notices the tiniest flush in Dean’s cheeks, and the sight squeezes his heart in his rib cage. Dean doesn’t think he deserves a life like this.

“Yep,” Donna replies, a bright smile gracing her freshly scrubbed and freckle-dusted face. “Right down the hall.”

“Alrighty then. Lead the way,” Dean says, following Donna to her laundry room.

Sam heaves a sigh before wandering to the small bookshelf in the corner for something to read.

Dean has nightmares almost every time he closes his eyes. Last night, he had a different kind of dream.

Donna was there, her soft blonde waves were piled on top of her head. Her fingers were floured and her big flannel shirt was dusted just the same. She laughed at his jokes and hummed through her smile when he wrapped his arms around her from behind. She smelled like butter and vanilla.

When he wakes, Sam’s already up and out of the room. A low light sneaks through the curtains, and Dean smells coffee. He rolls out of bed, runs his fingers through his hair, and makes his way to the bathroom across the hall.

“Dean, hey.”

Dean cocks his head and squints because it’s too damn early for pleasantries. It’s Kaia, though, and Dean owes that girl a lot of pleasant.

“Hey, kid. When’d you get in?” He turns toward her and she steps into his arms for a hug.

“‘Bout an hour ago,” she replies. “Claire’s in the kitchen.”

“‘Kay,” Dean answers pulling out of the hug with a lopsided smile. “Be there in a minute.”

Kaia nods and shuffles past him. “There’s coffee and french toast.”

“Nice,” Dean grunts, pushing through the bathroom door and switching the light on. When he sees his reflection, he groans. “Christ.”

His eyes are puffy and his hair’s sticking out in nine different directions. He shakes his head and sighs before taking care of business. Dean definitely puts the seat back down, washes his hands, and splashes his face and hair with water.

Before heading to the kitchen, he makes his bed and changes into his own clothes. As he shrugs into his flannel, he realizes it’s the one from his dream. The one Donna was wearing — his shirt and nothing else.

He could feel every dip and curve in his hands. She was so warm and soft. Dean’s thought about a hundred different ways to make her say his name the way she did in his dream. He can still hear her breathy voice in his head as he walks the length of the hallway toward the bright kitchen.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Donna greets him first, and his skin flushes with heat.

Before he can focus too much on it, Claire sacks him without a word.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmurs, holding her close. He isn’t exactly the picture of emotional growth, but since Cas… well, he’s trying to be more present.

Dean closes his eyes and buries his nose in her messy hair. She’s been smoking, and probably drinking by the looks of it. “Takin’ care of yourself?” He pulls back, gripping her shoulders and looking her in the eyes.

Her smile is crooked, and her blue eyes are shot red and rimmed with black, but she’s still the strong little girl from Illinois whose daddy loved God enough to leave her.

Claire shrugs. “More’r less.”

Dean huffs a wry laugh, squeezing her shoulders before releasing her. “Sounds about right.”

“Heeeyyy.” Jody and Alex round the island to greet him with hugs and Patience isn’t far behind.

“Coffee?” Jody asks.

“Absolutely. I also heard there was french toast. Or did I miss it?” He turns to find Donna extending a plate heaped with carbs, and a steaming cup of joe. “Awesome.”

He accepts the proffered items from Donna with a hearty thanks.

Jody and the girls retreat to the dining room where Sam sits, doing a crossword puzzle. He looks up and Dean nods a good morning to him before sliding onto a stool at the island.

“So, uhh, dollar store, huh?” He digs into his breakfast, trying not to ogle Donna’s ass in her cute little red and white snowflake leggings. The phrase ‘thick thighs save lives’ will be stuck in his head for the rest of his stay here and he isn’t mad about it.

Donna nods as she turns to face him with her own cup of coffee. “And if I give you a list, can you pick up some wine?”

Dean bobs his head as he chews and his eyes roll back. “Oh, yeah... Yes, anything. Holy shit, this is good.” He’s momentarily distracted from objectifying his hostess by the un-fucking-believable french toast.

Donna chuckles, jutting a hip against the island. “Family recipe. Just like the smorgasbord for tonight.” She sips her coffee and watches him devour the rest of the meal in silence but for Dean’s moans and groans of satisfaction.

How many times has Donna thought about this? About Dean Winchester sitting at her kitchen island eating a breakfast and coffee that she made? About him enjoying it?

Experts say that good food and good sex share neural pathways. That a person’s reaction to good food is similar to their reactions to good sex. That theory takes on a whole new level of wow when applied to Dean.

Dean drains his mug and wipes his mouth.

“More... anything?” Donna asks innocently -- or so she thinks.

Until Dean’s gaze flicks to hers for a hot minute. She could write his hesitation off as morning brain, but then he drops his gaze to her mouth. He licks his bottom lip into his mouth then slowly drags it through his teeth.

Donna’s breath catches in her chest and her insides flip.

“Hey, so, we should hit that dollar store, and I think Donna wants us to grab a few bottles of wine, right?”

Sam realizes a beat too late that he’s walked in on something; Dean looks ready to attack and Donna’s cheeks are fuchsia. The younger Winchester’s gaze bounces around the tension between Dean and Donna before he clears his throat.

Dean blinks a couple of times and shakes his head. “Yeah... yeah, uhh...” He draws a deep breath and looks back up at Donna. “Got that list?”

Donna gnaws at the corner of her anxious grin. “Oh, yeah. I’ll text it to ya.”

Dean nods and pushes out of his barstool. The brothers find their boots and coats in the front closet. As they walk out the door, Donna calls from the kitchen.

“Oh, and Dean? When you get back, you need to help me find that mistletoe.”

The screen door slams shut behind them, and Sam laughs.

Chapter Two

Please don’t leave without telling me what you think!

#dean winchester fic #dean x donna #donna hanscum fic

[dyed-red]

How do you think Sam felt about having sex with Ruby’s vessel? Did he need to rationalize that to himself or just the fact that Ruby was a demon?

this is such a delicious ask, i'm sorry it's taken me a while to get to.

there's just so much going on when it comes to sam/ruby. i draw a lot from comments from others on this, specifically those who are more familiar with the production and things the producers have said over the years in interviews. two things i've read as insights from the creative team (i think mostly from sera gamble?) are that:

it was important to sam that ruby's vessel was empty, otherwise that sex wouldn't/couldn't have happened (i think sera gamble had to fight for this or push its importance to her male co-creatives?)

sleeping with ruby was a form of "self harm" for sam.

I'm not sure where/how to find the original sources for those quotes as they're secondhand things I've read on tumblr about things said at cons and through other sources, but I fold both into my read on how Sam felt about having sex with Ruby and with her vessel.

So - to answer your actual question -

he felt like shit about it. and continued to feel like shit about it. and continued to do it. because he was in an incredibly self-destructive space and continued to be, and that self-hatred manifested in this particular way, for a variety of reasons.

And to unpack that a bit more...

1. sam has been possessed (by meg). he knows how it feels, and it Does Not Feel Good. his body was used to hurt people he cares about, to kill.

2. sam is consistently concerned about possessed vessels, where practicable. in the precinct seige during Jus In Bello, the fact that the "kill the virgin" spell could blast the demons out of the many possessed people outside is important to him. where dean reads the situation as killing an innocent woman, sam reads it as saving a few dozen people (at the cost of one, rather than the potential cost of many others if they try to shoot their way out). neither perspectives are singularly right but their different perspectives are informed by their different experiences, imo.

3. sam is saved by ruby wearing her 1.5 vessel and he promptly berates her for wearing some poor woman's skin, even if she saved his life, tells her that he doesn't want her help, and to get out of the car. he literally leaves her by the side of the road.

4. ruby 2.0 shows up with a certificate to verify that her chosen vessel is empty except for her. sam does not argue nor slam the door in her face, but asks for details. it's a major shift from one scene to the next in terms of how he is responding to her.

i'll also note that sam didn't complain about her 1.0 vessel's occupant during the time they were getting to know one another, which i think is interesting. my personal read is that sam considered that acceptable collateral damage in order to save dean from hell (what ruby promised him in season 3), and that after she failed to deliver, this compromise he'd made with himself over that collateral damage was no longer in play, nor was his patience for her.

(side note: i wonder if sam's greater tolerance of crowley, eventually, is because he came to learn or understand at some point that crowley's vessel is similarly empty?)

anyway, bringing all those points together, my read is that sam had to do a lot of self-rationalizing when it came to sleeping with ruby's vessel. sam is nothing if not pragmatic (if unhinged and insane) in his approach to dilemmas, so i think he could and did rationalize to himself that the body being empty means he's not hurting anyone by having sex with ruby in that form, but i don't think he'd fully convince himself.

so the discomfort and guilt and self-loathing would be... intense. she's a demon. demons killed his mother, his father, his brother. everyone he's ever loved. she saved his life. he doesn't trust her, he can't trust her. he can't afford not to trust her. he's got nothing left to lose. the only thing he has left is the part of himself that's stayed on the straight and narrow, that respects dean's dying wish, that refuses to turn into whatever his family (his brother) tried (died) to save him from becoming.

(sam himself lies to dean and says "it was practically your dying wish" that he not do exactly he's been doing (and more). sam knows there's betrayal here, and it's a betrayal that matters to him personally, or else he wouldn't hide and lie about it. he's never had any issue picking fights if/when he thinks he has the moral high ground.)

so... yeah. sleeping with ruby is an act of self-harm. he's obviously attracted to her vessel, and to her personality as ruby in that vessel, but that's not the key point. the key point is he hates himself for failing to save dean, for his brother dying because of him and being in hell because of him, and he's literally suicidal at this point in the narrative.

the fact that her vessel is empty is incredibly important, and i think a line he couldn't cross otherwise, but that doesn't mean he's okay with the fact that he's actually having sex with the body of someone who hasn't consented. and there's no doubt in my mind that somewhere in the back of his mind is both the fact that he's been possessed and has had his body used for things he was Not Okay with, and the fact that he's been dead (an empty vessel) and it's not like he would have been okey dokey with a demon possessing his corpse and sleeping with someone.

he knows it's a violation, no matter which way he slices it. and he uses that fact to hate himself a little more, so that the very act of sleeping with ruby is, in a sense, a way to punish himself for:

a) being attracted to her as a demon,

b) being attracted to her (helpless, innocent) vessel,

c) wanting connection because he's so goddamn lonely, and

d) being a monster/freak in the first place.

these are either things he's not supposed to feel because they're sinful wrong (attraction to a demon or vessel), or he deserves them (loneliness, feeling like a freak). this is what he's convinced himself of, and therefore how ruby acts as a both balm and escape (how it feels, how she soothes him) and punishment (how he deserves the influx of self-loathing and guilt and shame that comes from all that he is doing with her, from how this verifies all the worst parts of himself he was afraid of).

that being said -- as it goes i think he suppresses those feelings more and more because of what he gets from being with her, the connection and the blood and the high and the power and the sense of control over his destiny. but it's never that far from the surface, and we know how all that goes.

#oh my god this got both long and like... really unhappy about sam/ruby and his mental state during that arc #read at your own risk #sam/ruby #like that being said none of this is anti or crit #i goddamn love sam/ruby #but it is... deeply toxic #and very unhealthy for him #which is kind of the whole point #meta #my meta #a bit overwrought but i'm out of time to reread edit so here we are

[herstuf]

“They’re sisters it’s not queer baiting”

my siblings from this hell site, nobody knew they were sisters until book 3. Before the reveal there was like 2 hints to the possibility of them being sisters. They are so heavily queer baited throughout the books before that- people used to go crazy over the idea of them being endgame. The idea of Sophie and Agatha being together was pivotal to a lot of our childhoods and it was all crushed in like ten sentences two years after we were introduced to them. Nobody is actually shipping them, this isn’t fucking house of the dragon? But we are allowed to be upset about it!

There are so many moments in the books before the “sisters” reveal that made us think they would be together. Here’s some examples:

“Nearby, Tedros managed to reach his head from under boys and saw Sophie spring past. “Help!” he yelled— Sophie stepped on his head as she ran to help Agatha, who was being pelted with pebbles by Beatrix.” Chapter 13, book #1 this was almost directly after Sophie declared that Tedros was The One for her, and she immediately chose to protect Agatha over him.

“Tedros dove beside them. “Let me help,” he said, taking Sophie in his arms. “No—” Sophie wheezed—“Agatha.” Speechless, Tedros left her to his princess’s arms. Agatha pressed Sophie to her chest, hands soaked with her blood.” Chapter 30, book #1. Chooses her best friend over the prince she’d been vying for in her last moments.

“‘Who needs princes in our fairy tale?’ Sun exploded through fog, coating the two castles in gold. As the grass around it greened, the Storian blazed with new life and soared back to its tower in the sky. Across the shores, children’s robes, black, pink, blue, melted to the same silver, dissolving their division once and for all.” Chapter 30, just after Agatha kisses Sophie and saves her life with true loves kiss. The blatant queer symbolism in the description of the rainbow of colours which are then described as dissolving and erasing division is symbolism for the idea of finding acceptance and love, even with those previously thought of as “enemies” or “off-limits.”

“‘You make me happy, Agatha,’ said Sophie, ‘It just took me too long to see it”… “But Sophie had revised the prince with her sewing kit. Now he had boxy dark hair, goonish bug eyes… and a black dress.” Chapter 2, Book #2. Sophie had a pillow she previously stitched with a prince and princess, and had now stitched likeness of Agatha over the prince, symbolising Agatha as her Prince Charming and HEA.

“And Sophie and Agatha lived happy ever after, for girls don’t need princes for love to call. . . . No, they don’t need princes in their fairy tales at all.” Chapter 5, Book #2. Technically this is part of the manipulations from Dean Slader but it is a good reminder of queer undertones in the books overall.

Various quotes from book 2 that just stand out from a queer perspective:

“Agatha reviving her with love’s kiss,” “I won’t intervene in your lovers quarrel,” Chapter 5. ““Despite the storm in her heart, Sophie managed a smile. She had never seen something so beautiful. Then again, she’d never seen girls dance without boys.” Chapter 6. “happy together . . . without a boy in sight. ‘How can Agatha not want this?’” Chapter 7. “‘Just want to make sure she’s safe.’ Sophie peered down at the two armored knights, one short, one tall, standing in the blue pumpkin patch near the Woods Gate. ‘You sound . . . like . . . a . . . prince . . .’ Chapter 11. “Kissed a girl to life like all the best princes,” Chapter 11.

“‘I need more than a friend,’ Agatha had said. But what if she could make Agatha happy again? What if she showed Agatha she didn’t need Tedros? That their friendship was greater than any Ever After with a prince.” Chapter 13

And some quotes from book 3 before the reveal that made it all the more surprising to us when they were revealed as sisters

“Sophie. This time no anger came at the name. Only an echo, like the password to her heart’s cave.” Chapter 2. 

“Strange, wasn’t it, Sophie thought, moving closer. She’d kissed Agatha . . . Agatha had kissed Tedros . . . and yet, she’d never kissed Tedros” Chapter 13, symbolising kissing a boy would be exactly the same as kissing Agatha

Honestly there’s more but I am so tired of typing already sorry.

As someone who was in the 9th grade when the first book came out, and who was first questioning my own sexuality at that time, I latched onto these books because of the queer coding between Agatha and Sophie. I was stoked when the books came out each year because I honestly hoped they would end up together. For them to be revealed at the last moment as sisters? It was crushing to me and many others, and it came out of nowhere. It was my very first experience being queer baited.

Many of you might not be of the opinion that it is queer baiting, since apparently in the later books the girls are revealed to be bisexual (which is awesome! I never read past the 3rd book sorry!) but it doesn’t change the interpretation of queer baiting that many of us growing up with the books had. Being excited about a possible relationship only to have that ripped away and made impossible so suddenly is crushing for anybody. Nobody is shipping them, because gross, but we are upset about the narrative of it. And it is exhausting being continuously told that “it’s not queer baiting, they’re sisters!” when we literally had THREE YEARS to develop a ship for them before having that reveal. Nobody is shipping them, but we are allowed to continue calling it queer baiting because it literally was, and with the movie it is a revival of that feeling.

And for people who didn’t read the books? Imagine what watching that on screen felt like for them.

#tsfgae #the school for good and evil #agatha of woods beyond #sophie of woods beyond

[demons-and-demigods]

Demons and Demigods Part Eight: Context Before More Plot

Alright, so we're gonna hop back to Sally, Paul, and the Winchester boys for a bit here! Yay!

This part is to give some context about who knows what and kinda what's been going on with these guys while we've been focusing on the demigods along with backing it up a bit to talk about Paul.

Sally had not been told about Dean’s deal and the fact that he only had a year left to live and what-not. Telling Bobby and having Sam find out had been hard enough, and with everything she was going through with her son being missing and then being sent on a deadly quest to try and save the world, Dean figured she had enough to worry about without putting his impending doom on her shoulders too. He made Sam and Bobby swear that if they couldn’t save him, they would tell her it was just a hunt gone wrong, that they wouldn’t tell her about the deal, ever. They did, but only because Dean begged them to. He also begged Sam to stay with Bobby and/or Sally when he was gone, to help them and him deal with his death without doing anything stupid. Sam promised, but only because he insisted that it wouldn’t come to that.

Further down the road, when it does, indeed, come to that, Sam keeps his word and he and Bobby tell Sally that Dean died hunting a werewolf and she makes them both stay with her and Paul since Percy is still at Camp helping rebuild. Ruby doesn’t get her hooks into Sam and so there’s no demon blood junkie arc and no killing Lilith and no Apocalypse gets triggered, and Lucifer doesn’t get free, etc, etc. The angels and demons are still fighting over seals and trying to start the apocalypse, but Sam and Dean don’t go for it. Cas still saves Dean from Hell and rebels against Heaven for him, but he tells Sam and Dean what the angels are trying to do and about the last seal being killing Lilith so they just nope outta that plotline because I said so. But we’re not quite there yet. Gotta finish up some other stuff first.

Now, for Paul and some mortal Thoughts on Percy:

When Percy first went missing, Paul tried to cash in like, all his vacation days at the school to stay with Sally and do what he can to help find Percy and support her and Annabeth, but Goode is the best (because this is my au and I do what I want) and just gave him paid leave after hearing that his step-son had gone missing and likely been kidnapped (again, from the mortal world’s perspective). So the school was just like oh shit yeah no take all the time you need, we’ll keep paying you, we hope you find your step-son and that he’s okay. His colleagues call to check in every now and then, because they’re his friends and are genuinely worried for him and his family and want to make sure they’re holding up okay and they hope that it’s all figured out soon so that he can have his kid safe at home again. Some of them even stop by the apartment with casseroles or other homemade meals to spend some time with him and Sally to support them.  

They both appreciate this very much. And their friends who haven’t met Percy (most of them, because they’re mostly fellow teachers at Goode and most of them either have him in their class but aren’t aware that Paul’s-step-son-Percy is also The Percy Jackson or have never had him in their class) ask Paul and Sally to tell them about him which they are both more than happy to do, they love talking about Percy. More than a few of the teachers however have gone home afterward, googled Percy Jackson, and had a crisis. Because, like, the google results are all over the place. There are articles calling him a delinquent kid and a terrorist suspected of blowing up a couple of buses and also the St. Lewis arch and possibly killing his mother, but other articles say that he was actually kidnapped along with two other kids and the bus and arch incidents were him and the other kids trying to escape. But then obviously Sally is still alive, and her and Paul both talk about Percy like he is the sweetest, kindest kid out there who’s had a really rough life but really he’s just a sweetheart and such a good kid and they couldn’t be prouder of him. Some of them even look through Percy’s school records and find all the schools he’s been kicked out of for fights and explosions and other weird situations that he always seems to be at the center of and the fact that on paper he is clearly a troubled kid with all sorts of issues and a long list of disciplinary problems and they just can’t make it match up with the smiling boy with eyes that look too old on such young features in all the pictures Sally and Paul showed them or with all the stories Sally and Paul shared.  

Look, I just think it’s really funny when Sally and Paul talk about Percy and only off-handedly mention some of the wild shit he’s done that’s literally been on the news and they’re talking about him all ‘oh he’s just so sweet and caring, he’s a counselor at the summer camp he goes to and all the little kids love him,’ and etc. And then, because one of them made an off-hand comment about like, ‘oh yeah, he started going to camp when he was twelve after he got kidnapped and it was a whole thing where the media kept calling him a terrorist even though he was just trying to escape this awful man,’ or whatever and so the friend goes home and googles Percy Jackson and ends up just like, staring at their screen like holy fuck what the hell is this kid. And if they’ve never seen him, from the way Sally and Paul describe him, they’re expecting Percy to be, yknow, a normal looking kid, maybe on the taller end around 5’10 or so, probably with a bright, sunny grin and soft features. And then they meet him and he’s six feet tall at least made of solid muscle and covered in weird looking scars with an rbf that would make the bravest soldier shit their pants. He looks like he was carved from marble with his high cheekbones and sharp jawline and his eyes are unreal in their vivid intensity. His smile is crooked and in the glimpse they catch, his teeth seem too sharp, just a little too perfect. And he has a presence that fills the whole room as soon as he enters it, drawing their attention as their basest instincts begin screaming at them to either run or try to hide. But Sally and Paul are just like ‘hey, kiddo, how was camp,’ completely nonplussed like he’s not a fictional character with a dark past and even darker secrets come to life, like he’s not a manifestation of some dark god from the myths of times forgotten. Godsdammit sorry I got off track talking and thinking about demigods and especially kids of the big three being eldritched.

Anyway, little off track there, but this is my au and my post and my blog so I get to say what I want and I wanted to talk about Percy being Unnerving as Fuck to mortals for a bit because it tickles me.

#dndv #dndv lore #demons and demigods verse #spn #supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #bobby singer #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #sally jackson #paul blofis #percy jackson #goode high school (pjo)

[seenthisepisode]

sorry back in my deangirl feels era tonight. but. yes i sometimes get borderline critical of dean and his actions (mostly the ones directed towards... or even against cas). and like. true. he treated cas pretty horribly at times. true true true. but the thing about dean is that he is a broken man. like ultimately he is a very broken adult who never got the proper help he needed who went through so much shit and trauma since he was FOUR years old that at the end of the series we see a man who is almost irreparably broken. almost. but he has never gotten the chance to rest and resolve everything. ever after a lifetime spent with john pre hell dean would never do some things later season dean did. yes he gets more violent and he lashes out and sometimes he acts ooc and irrationally but the watsonian explanation for this is that something is really badly broken in him. too many things went wrong. and he tries to preserve some of his delicate side, he desperately tries (dean cave. memory foam mattress. being excited about little things, being goofy etc.) to cling onto the crumbs of happiness and joy but ultimately he is empty. obviously you cas say it was dabb and co who can't / won't write dean properly for some reason which. fair. but if you see him from this perspective. that he has something fundamentally irreparably wrong with his head then the way he acts makes sense. and like castiel knows all of that, he knows that and he sees that and that's why he gives nothing but kindess compassion forgiveness and love for dean. and that is exactly what dean needs and wants and never really had. that's what, at least for a moment, makes the emptiness inside of dean less... empty. and thats why his words have this massive effect on dean "see thats not who i am" winchester. and thats why losing cas is worse than the end of the world for dean. because only cas knew all that anger and emptiness inside of dean and still chose to stay. anyway idk where am i going with this but we need to remeber that cas saw and knew the worst ugliest parts of dean because he saved him from hell where dean wasn't on the rack anymore, he was turning into one of alastair's most talented demons. he saw that and despite that he saved him and then chose to save him over and over again, these times not because of heavenly orders but because cas decided dean was worth saving even though dean comes with a gigantic baggage of his past and trauma and pain. and cas is the real mvp for never ever giving up on someone like that, on someone who was many times very close to giving up on himself. and i think that's why i love cas so much because he is the personification of love and understanding and forgiveness even though they require sacrifice and lead to being severely hurt by the one you're trying to save from hurting themselves. this is just all tragic okay

#like. destiel is toxic if you want to call it like that and judge it by normal real lofe standards #but its. so much more than that in the context of the story.. its just tragic and ot ends badly and they were doomed from the start #destiel #dean winchester #dean #castiel

[blue-chimera]

What S15:E20 "Carry On" Did That S15:19 "Inherit the Earth" Couldn't

Before the finale, some of Supernatural's most resonant themes centered on found family ("Family don't end in blood" and "it doesn't start there, either") and anti-suicide messaging (with "Always Keep Fighting" standing as the official/unofficial motto of many in the SPN family).

While Jared was the face of "Always Keep Fighting" IRL, it was Dean, who struggled with depression and low self-esteem for years, who represented the fight against suicide to many viewers of the show... [spoilers below the jump]

So, when Dean dies in the Supernatural finale – and urges Sam to accept his death – it's more than understandable why fans might take that as a tone-deaf repudiation of the show's own message. But I would argue that a deeper, more nuanced message is being communicated to us here: one that embraces & enhances lessons that came before.

Throughout 15 years of Supernatural, Dean frequently devalued his own life. His actions veered from courage into recklessness and even suicidal disregard, and he regularly voiced doubt that his life was important. See: his suggestion in S2:E21 that his life was only meaningful if he sacrificed it to save Sam; his attempt to trade his life for Sam's in S11:E17 "Red Meat;" when he says to Billie, in S13:E5, "I don't matter;" or to Sam (in that same episode), "My whole life, I always believed that what we do was important. No matter what the cost, no matter who we lost... I kept on fighting because I believed that we were making the world a better place. And now, Mom and Cas... And I – I don't know. I don't know."

However, by the time we reach the finale, we've seen Dean turn a significant corner on valuing his life and the difference he makes in the world. This turning point is made explicit in S14:E13 "Lebanon," when Sam laments that they can't change the past, and Dean replies, "We've been through some tough times. There's no denying that. And for the longest time, I blamed Dad. I mean, hell, I blamed Mom, too, you know? I was angry. But say we could send Dad back knowing everything. Why stop there? Why not send him even further back and let some other poor sons of bitches save the world? But here's the problem. Who does that make us? Would we be better off? Well, maybe. But I got to be honest... I don't know who that Dean Winchester is. And I'm good with who I am."

This is a remarkable break from Dean's prior attitude and a clear, concrete step towards self-acceptance. Dean actively choses himself as is over a hypothetical do-over... even a do-over that would mean John & Mary Winchester getting to live long lives away from hunting demons & monsters. It feels like Dean has gained a certain amount of wisdom, perspective, emotional maturity, healing – whatever you want to call it – and he's come to view the culmination of his life's experiences (both the joy & the pain) as positive. In learning to accept pain as a part of life, in learning to face it and avoid letting it overshadow the good things, Dean has come to a greater acceptance of his life and of himself.

However, like everyone, Dean is susceptible to backsliding. Most notably, he experiences sharp regression on this front when Mary dies. Once again overwhelmed by pain, he lashes out, turning against Jack and nursing a grudge against Cas, seemingly poised to bury himself in bitterness & despair. But he eventually overcomes this knee-jerk response. Despite his anger and pain (and even pressure from God himself), Dean steps back from the edge, refusing to shoot Jack. In Purgatory, realizing that Cas might die – that he might already be dead – Dean lets go of his anger against the angel, as well, tearfully apologizing for holding a grudge, offering forgiveness of his own, and acknowledging that he struggles with anger issues. And, importantly, this isn't something Dean names once and then forgets. Dean goes on to acknowledge the problem of his anger again in the penultimate episode, suggesting that he's gaining self-awareness & getting better at taking responsibility for his reactions.

Whether he's aware of it or not, Dean's anger issues are almost certainly rooted in feelings of anxiety & helplessness stemming from his parentification as a young child. Dean was aware of the existence of monsters (and the finality of death) and tasked with protecting Sam from these things long before he actually had the skills/capacity to effectively protect his brother. As a result, on at least one occasion, young Dean fails to protect Sam, incurring blame from his father & leading to feelings of worthlessness. Dean reacts to these feelings by manifesting a need for control – convincing himself that the key to protecting his loved ones lies in controlling every variable in their lives, trusting only himself (and, before John's death, his father) to make the necessary decisions to keep their loved ones safe – and by externalizing blame (in an attempt to escape the crippling self-loathing that follows when he blames himself after people he loves get hurt).

Hence, Dean's anger when people deviate from his plans or expectations or fail to disclose information to him, especially when someone gets hurt in the process. Seizing control is an attempt to protect himself from loss & the accompanying pain/fear/grief that's dogged him since the violent death of his mother and the subsequent upending of his world. Anger is his sword and control is his shield.

So, it makes sense that Dean essentially loses his mind when forced to confront his (apparent) helplessness in the fight against God. It's his deepest fear come to life. Dean's inability to face his fear of helplessness (and the loss that goes along with it) makes him vulnerable to Chuck's influence. He can't think clearly past it. It's what drives him to participate in (and make excuses for going along with) Jack's would-be suicide bombing. It's what allows him to be whipped into a frenzy of anger that almost ends in him shooting Sam.

And it's therefore extremely meaningful that Dean acknowledges his anger issues in S15:E9 "The Trap" (while praying to Cas) and then again in E19 "Inherit the Earth." In "The Trap," Dean recognizes that his anger is a problem, but he's still making excuses for it. But by E19, he sees that there are other paths – that he could've chosen to do something different. He's finally come to understand his anger as a reaction to pain & fear, a reaction that he's allowed to control him, and not as just a fact of life.

The seeds of this lesson are planted in E9. We see them take root in E19. Then, E20 rolls around. Months pass in a montage, and the Winchesters appear to have fallen into a comfortable routine: daily chores & exercise, gun-care & research. It looks like life has achieved some level of normalcy for them. "Normalcy" for a Winchester still seems to include hunting, the bunker, and bachelorhood, but now it also includes a dog, smiles, and a notable lack of apocalypses.

And then we get to the pie festival. Here, we finally see what's bloomed from those seeds: while Sam's enjoyment of the event is momentarily marred by thoughts of those they lost, Dean has learned a healthier approach. He's learned to neither avoid his pain nor use it as an excuse to lash out or lean into despair. Instead, he acknowledges it – saying, "That pain's not gonna go away" – and then uses it to affirm his choice to live & experience the joys of life: "But if we don't keep living, then all that sacrifice is gonna be for nothing."

In Dean's calm, contemplative assurance, we hear echoes of that earlier "I'm good with who I am." His pain no longer overshadows his joy. It no longer makes him doubt the value of his life, or whether it was all worth it. Somewhere in the months between defeating God and this moment, these lessons have matured to full growth, and Dean's found peace.

The rest of the episode puts this idea to the ultimate test – whether Sam & Dean are able to actually follow theory with action when it comes to each other. Again, Dean leads the way: as he's accepted the deaths of others in their lives, he accepts his own death. He reminds Sam that it was always going to be this way, suggesting that he was never going to willingly step back from hunting, and he knew (as we did, as we saw and heard again & again) that hunting was inevitably fatal, if you did it long enough. Dean's death throws into stark relief the immense danger of even a "routine" hunt, underscoring his immense courage in dedicating himself to that path. His death isn't flashy. It isn't a fairytale or action movie ending. It isn't there to entertain us, as if we were Chuck. It's just a death. It provokes the same feelings of helplessness & loss that Dean himself struggled with... and eventually learned to face.

Here, it's useful to reflect back on the themes of the show. Now, it's true that one of the points of the show was the importance of fighting on without being deterred by despair. But, balanced against that, we also saw the dangers of refusing to face pain & loss head-on (being unable to accept natural consequences). Dean makes a deal & goes to Hell because he can't cope with the idea of Sam being dead. In doing so, he sets off a chain of events that leads to the apocalypse. Sam forces a witch to cast black magic (and sacrifice a man's life) to save Dean from the Mark of Cain because he can't cope with the thought of Dean's eternal suffering. In doing so, he sets off a chain of events that leads to mass death at the hands of the Darkness. (We also see this lesson emerge in smaller plot points, such as when Dean is forced to be Death for a day.) And this is the point Dean is driving at in "Lebanon," as well: about learning to accept the bad alongside the good.

Thus, one of the big overall messages of the show comes out to something less like "always keep fighting" and more like the Serenity Prayer: it's about the courage to keep fighting even in the darkest times, when the odds are slim and hope is faint; but also the serenity (or perspective, or emotional maturity) to accept things you can't or shouldn't fight (when fighting would do more harm than good, or it's not your choice to make); and the wisdom to know the difference. Without Dean's death in 15x20 [or Sam's], we can't see that crucial character growth in terms of wisdom & perspective. If we fade to black while both boys are still alive and pretend to ourselves that no one ever has to die, we lose that nuance. Likewise if they died together (allowing both to avoid facing a life that includes the other's death).

So, far from being tone-deaf or antithetical to the message of the show, Dean's death in 15x20 carries one of the largest pieces of ongoing tension (Sam & Dean's struggle to process/accept the pain of loss, esp. loss of each other, even when failing to do so risks destroying the world) to a satisfying conclusion.

And this lesson isn't limited in applicability to stories where supernatural forces can intervene in matters of life & death. In the real world, it looks like accepting a relative's decision to move to hospice care when they're finished fighting a terminal diagnosis & they're ready to seek improved quality of life, even if it costs them the chance for a little more time. It looks like putting down a beloved pet to spare them great suffering you can't otherwise alleviate. It looks like all sorts of hard but necessary choices people make in end-of-life care.

In the end, S15:E20 "Carry On" elevates the overall message of Supernatural from something solid but not particularly noteworthy (as far as shows of this type go, "keep fighting" is a pretty basic message) to something outstanding, the kind of powerful & nuanced message you can only get from a show that keeps taking risks right up until the very end. Time/budgetary limitations forced the seams to show ever so slightly more than in past episodes (would I have loved a better wig, or more shots establishing that that barn was in the middle of nowhere? Sure), but this is, overall, an ambitious episode that sticks the landing. Grounded in reality and true to the seasons before it, "Carry On" is a bittersweet masterpiece... and a fitting end to 15 years.

#spn #spoilers #dean winchester #understanding dean winchester #finale #carry on #character analysis #spn meta

[purgaytorysupremacy]

i was straightening my hair and got mad again over how they killed charlie so i’m going to beat a dead horse while making it your problem

just from a character perspective it's the worst way they could have separated charlie and dean because dean expects everyone around him to die. it's just a default in his life and it feeds into his worldview. it confirms the way that he sees the world, his place in the world, his worth in the world blah blah blah blah and also it's just lazy. and I mean like I know they have that great moment with the pyre where dean says “I think it should be you on that pyre” or whatever but there were ways to still get that kind of scathing line in there other than killing charlie horribly. because the thing is like I actually think that's less impactful for dean than if she were to just run away.

like family is how dean constructs the world! when he bestows a familial role upon a person, that's the highest honour he thinks he can give someone. so he's just like here’s this sister I never thought I would have and my brother was so careless in his disregard for her that now she never wants to see me again? what? that kind of betrayal is the thing that's gonna get to dean, not fucking dying. everybody's gonna die! he knows he's gonna die, he’s just waiting for it. he's waiting for sam to die, he's waiting for cas to die. he's like yeah nobody gets out of this thing alive, but to choose to never see him again?

I mean think about in The Trap when he and castiel, angel of the Lord, are having their little pre-make-up fight, what does dean bring up? he doesn't bring up any of this other stuff, he says, “maybe if you hadn't up and left us.” that was the betrayal of castiel right there, and you're telling me some lazy bathtub death is going to affect dean and his relationship with sam and his loss of charlie more then her being like no guys I gotta go. thanks for everything but byeeeee

like he was tortured in hell for 40 years and still I think the greatest psychological torture for dean winchester is not seeing charlie beaten and bruised and bloody in a bathtub. it's knowing that she's out there, existing in the world, and is mad at him

#the good supernatural in my head #you know the one where they understand their own characters #supernatural #spn #mine.txt #charlie bradbury #dean winchester #castiel #sam winchester #destiel #tw murder #tw death #dean #mine: text #purgatory supremacy words

[mittensmorgul]

I posted 3,434 times in 2022

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3,049 posts reblogged (89%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@wigglebox

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I tagged 3,384 of my posts in 2022

Only 1% of my posts had no tags

#destiel - 608 posts

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Longest Tag: 140 characters

#standing there with a 50-year-old band-aid tin full of mostly ivory and white buttons and pulling out these two? yeah that's magic baybeeeee

I sent 1 gift in 2022

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

the only thing worse than how it starts is how it ends

thanks carlos, having watched all of spn i'm pretty sure you're right about that lololololol

199 notes - Posted October 11, 2022

#4

Hi! What aspects of what we know about the prequel draw you to watch it? I am looking for a silver line in it that would motivate me to watch it because, as of now, I am very wary of the prequel. John and Mary as lead characters along with the final of SPN (heaven ending and they promised canon compliance) is not making me excited. This is not to rain on your parade, I am just looking for a better perspective! Robbie is a bonus but I'm a Casgirl and the prospect of Cas being in it seems dicey :(

Hi hi! I'm happy to help if I can, but I only know as much as any of us still, so I don't know how accurate some of this will be as we begin getting more information. But this is what I know:

-This will be set in the early 1970's. We'll learn more about Mary and her family, which honestly I've wanted to learn more about since 4.03, you know? She was raised hunting and was desperate to get out and live normal, but was clearly a competent and knowledgeable hunter. I would LOVE to know more about her and her family.

-we know it will incorporate the "love story" of John and Mary, and that as you pointed out, it will be canon compliant

-which means they will have to at least acknowledge what the cupid in 5.14 said about how difficult a match the two of them were to make... I am FASCINATED by what Heaven's involvement in their lives was before the events of 4.03.

-this was also the era during which John was in the Marine Corps. He fought in Vietnam. I'm super curious about whether he was protected in some way by having this "destiny" to father the fated vessels, and how that may have influenced his life in general.

-we might get more information about the state of Heaven/angels and Hell/demons prior to the beginning of the run up to the apocalypse. will there be shady stuff revealed about the goings-on there, or are they going to stick more to the mundane/normal hunter life of John and Mary? We just don't know, but this is something that I hope they do choose to explore a little bit.

-I don't know that this will have anything to do with the ending of the original Supernatural series. Unless it's stated up front that Dean is narrating this entire thing *from Heaven,* then I don't know how it would have any bearing on this series.

-I don't know that Cas *won't* ever be a character in this series, but it's not something I'm counting on, you know? He existed in that universe at the time the events will be taking place, but as far as we know outside of taking Dean back to 1973 to "stop it" in 4.03, he wasn't really involved in that era of events on Earth. Of course, he was able to time travel when he had his wings, but also he could've taken another vessel back at that time and interfered with things based on Heaven's orders (and if they were dead set on Cas looking like our Cas, they could present his vessel as Jimmy's father/Uncle/other ancestor and still use Misha as the actor... not saying that WILL happen, but that it COULD, but also i'm going into this not really expecting to see Cas at all, so any Cas we do see would feel like a bonus).

-Robbie Thompson. He's a treasure. He *cares* about canon. He knows the characters, and I trust his writing. He is NOT a John apologist (just the opposite, he has written some scathing critiques of Sam and Dean's childhood... I mean his FIRST episode of the series was Slash Fiction. Please look at his episode list and get a feel for how he sees canon...). And this time, rather than being a staff writer, he's running the show. That alone makes me eager to watch.

-Chaos Machine. A production company run by #1 Dean Stan Jensen Ackles, and #1 Cas Girl Danneel Ackles. But also a company whose first big hire was Renee Reiff, one of the founders of Out In Hollywood, and now the head of development. I'm...really not sure that any of these people are gonna side with folks that loved the series finale and thought it was perfect and a good ending for the characters... how people have gotten that impression from any of this, I just don't know. But I do not think this series is gonna be more of THAT.

-Based on the timing of everything, Jensen likely was in negotiations with WB for the rights to produce programming under the Supernatural banner before the original series was even done filming. We know he was Not A Fan of the ending, and that he has spoken diplomatically and carefully about it for the most part, but his discomfort with the ending is pretty clear. Not many people start a whole entire production company with a long game of eventually making a follow up to the original series.

-in the mean time, Jensen and Danneel are setting out to prove the SPN universe is in good hands. Because there ARE other stories in that universe I would love to hear. Not only Mary's story (because I am REALLY interested in seeing how she grew up and how Dean as narrator relates to that experience), but there are other stories in that universe that would be worth hearing too. The chances of them being able to TELL us those stories likely rest on the success of the Winchesters-- yes, even the potential for them EVER to be able to make an actual 15.20 redux, or a continuation of the original series at all, likely rests on the success of their first venture.

This is a thoughtful, creative bunch of people who WANT DESPERATELY to tell us more stories in the Supernatural Universe.

There are people who obviously will not care to watch, which is fine and good, but literally we do not know any more than what I stated above, and some of that is even speculation and guessing. I'm just exhausted by people who already believe they know what this show will be about and have decided to pre-hate it for their convenience.

Some parts of this fandom are just so fucking exhausting.

Will we love it? WHO KNOWS?! IT IS A MYSTERY! We don't even know who will be cast as Mary and John-- or anyone else in the series! We just do not know what the story is yet! Can we at least wait until then to decide to love or hate it?!

I'd love to at least give Jensen, Danneel, and Robbie the benefit of the doubt here...

227 notes - Posted February 5, 2022

#3

“bikini area”

(source)

243 notes - Posted February 7, 2022

#2

8.17 Call Sheet and Sides now up on the @spnscripthunt​

What broke the connection? Dean forgives him and loves him, and Naomi forced him to choose. He chose Dean.​

277 notes - Posted February 17, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

love that millie’s rule was telling henry “i love you” after they have a disagreement, or anything

and that’s her big regret, not getting to tell Henry “i love you” before he disappeared

everyone, please shriek loudly with me

374 notes - Posted October 18, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #it was a smol year on mittesmorgul dot tunglr :'D

[or-something-better]

October 10, 2022

🔮✏️🚨🔮✏️🚨🔮✏️🚨🔮✏️🚨🔮✏️🚨🔮✏️🚨

This week's writing Topic is:

"If you could spend One Day in someone else's shoes, who would it be and why did you choose them?"

Sam

This was actually a hard topic for me… not because I wouldn’t want to experience life from another’s perspective, but because I soooo would.

We have such a wide variety of experience all around us here. Which of us wouldn’t want to see the world through the prism of Henry’s child-like innocence or feel the excitement and possibilities that Patience must be seeing just starting out on her psychic journey? Then there’s Bobby, I swear that man has forgotten more things than I will ever learn. Even getting to walk in Crowley’s overpriced loafers, would glean me something that might help to bring other things into focus.

Since the Topic sentence was lacking in specificity, I’m going to choose as my ‘walk in their shoes’ person, my Dad, John Winchester. But not the John Winchester some of you knew. I’m wanting to experience one of his days Before that fire in my nursery and the arrival of Yellow-eyes.

I want to feel what his family life was like before all that came after. Dad was a skilled mechanic who’d married the love-of-his-life. They’d just added another son to their white picket fence family life. What must his days have been like?

Filled with love? Pretty sure, my brother worshipped the man since his own first breath and from all accounts Mom did too. So, I’d say love was a big factor. He also must have had satisfaction with his job. A skill he was good at and that provided for his family. But I think the biggest things I’d love to have a glimpse of, were his dreams of the future. How did he see his life turning out? Maybe his own garage one day? Watching his sons graduate college or maybe rolling the dice on a third child hoping for a little girl?

His dreams are an insight I’d truly love to have, because I’m sure that HE had them…  once upon a time. Dad wasn’t always the angry, drunken, hardly-ever-there Father that I grew up knowing. What I wouldn’t give to know him some other way.

…………………………………..

Ruby

If you could spend One Day in someone else's shoes, who would it be and why did you choose them?

This is probably going to sound odd or egotistical, but truthfully, I would choose me. Not the “now” me, but the “me” about a month after I sold my soul.

I had been a witch long enough to start making a difference in the village. My brother, Arthur, had already died three months earlier. I feared losing my only other family member to the plague as well. I had seen the failure of the village’s so-called healers and was determined not to let my mother fall under his ineptitude.

Under Astaroth’s tutelage, I learned everything I could to become a powerful witch. I saved many of the villagers, but the single most important person was my mother. She died about a year before my time was up. I never felt that I’d been cheated out of anything.

So, yes, I think I would enjoy reliving one of those days when I truly felt needed and accomplished.

…………………………

Bela

If I could spend one day in anyone else's shoes who would it be and why? Now isn't that an interesting question? That's also a very hard question. While I admire everything Sam and Dean have been through... Going to hell and back.... Saving the world from so many monsters....

They always manage to succeed almost seemingly without trying.... And seems they are well trusted even when they started the apocalypse and destroyed Lilith...that stupid bitch...

But then again... Francoise Bettencourt Meyers… now there's a strong... Successful woman! The richest bitch in the world. Although mostly inherited... But now the chairwoman for a damn hair product business...

I mean yes, I am pretty successful and make ends meet myself... And the money I'm able to bring in with all these artifacts I get my hands on is amazing... And no, I no longer have family to get a fortune from like she did... But wouldn't that be the best life? Not a care or want in the world… not having to worry about anything?

Just have everything served on a silver platter... Fancy home, car, can have food catered... Pay for anything your hear desires.

That would be the life... I mean my home and car are fairly decent. Hell I could even have my own museum if I was in her shoes... buy the artifacts legally, store them in the museum. Charge people for visiting to see all the artifacts daily. Yes. I think that would be the honest... Legal successful life I would dream of. Not to mention all the extra income from the hair products. If only... I wonder how easily I could make that happen.... Is it worth another deal?

………………………..

Crowley

When reflecting on my life be it good, bad, ugly, or just plain evil I always find a common thread. No matter what I did, the end goal was always to hope I’d find love in the end. Motives may always be convoluted or bizarre, even downright stupid. Still, I always desired a way to be loved. If I could spend a day in the shoes of someone else, I’d want to be able to have that love and even that admiration.

There’s so many people I could choose from, people with talent, people with success, or people who are loved that may seem like the obvious choice. With my privileged position though, I know not all of it is genuine. Maybe people had that special helping hand that I am able to say, aren’t as good as they seem. But there’s one person, just one who was kind, who was remembered for the love that they had, and the love they received in spades. I’d want to walk in the loafers and cardigans of Mr. Fred Rogers.

I remember finding out about that program, I’d been leaving a business deal and heard it on the telly. I saw the way both parent and child hung on every word. I shamelessly admit that even as King of the Crossroads, I tuned in to a PBS program teaching people how to be kind to others. Something about the soft voice had me hanging on every word, the genuine warmth that was in every lesson. Somehow just watching it, I felt the love I never had as a human. Like there was a parent out there proud of my achievements. If I could walk in those shoes, I know I would feel the love he sparked in millions. The love he’d reignited in a broken demon.

……………………………

Ellen

Why do we get asked questions like this? I wonder. Cause hunting and saving the world don't keep our minds busy enough?

Well I would say if I could trade for a day I would choose Jon Winchester. I would go back to that day my Bill died. To be the one to be there. To see what happened, to see why Jon never told the boys about us, or why he could never look me in the eye. Im sure it was hard for him too. Was he alone, did Jon really have his back, what happened. And as I reflect on those questions I'm reminded that Jon also left family behind. And what if he was the one that died that day? How would the boys have known? Now, don't get me wrong, Jon seemed like a fine man. But I knew him as a Hunter. And he became like family to me and mine. I just want to know what happened that awful day that took my heart.

But that's who I would trade a day with. I would want to know I did everything I could to change it.

……………………………….

Patience

who's shoes would I want to walk in for a day. If I could walk in someone else's shoes for a day without a doubt would have to be Saint Joan of Arch. At the age of 12 she started to hear the angels and sometimes even spoke to God. He wanted her to lead the army. She was fierce and determined to do God's work, but was rejected because of being female. So she cut her hair and dressed as a man. Finally she was given permission to lead the army. After a little more than a year she was captured, but after telling how she was obeying god's word she was ostracized called a witch and sentenced to be burned at the stake. I know it wasn't long ago but in the 8th grade my history class did a skit about Joan of Arch and since then she has been my idol, a woman of faith and only wanting to do God's work. Yes even though she was burned she has been my idol. Many many years later was named Saint Joan of Arch. So if I could walk in her shoes for a day it would be hers.

………………………..

Alex

Sit down and pull out my book

Hello there I am going tell you If i could spend One Day in someone else's shoes, who would it be and why did you choose them?

Olivia Elizabeth Jones Future Hunter!

One day Olivia will be great hunter and follow her mom footsteps. Be knowing everything and every step case and monster.

Smart knowing, fight and work hard. Helping out her family’s and food run

Clean the gun and knife after the hunt and also teaching other shooting targets practice.

And learning being a nurse like her mom.

Look up that it thank you for reading put book away

………………………….

Charlie

I really dont think it’s a secret, who I would be if I could. Most of my life I’ve hidden behind computers and lived my life through the characters I play. I can’t deny that being a heroine is pretty attractive to me. If I could be anyone, it would be Hermione Granger. The girl did it all! She had intelligence and almost always ended up saving the day!! Even if Harry took all the credit, without Hermione he never would have gotten anywhere. She’s fearless and fierce and everything I’d like to be…. Although after spending some time with Dorothy…. She was much more of a heroine than the books portrayed…. And we saved Oz…. But Hermione has magic… if I had that… maybe I would have lost less people in my life…who knows? But for the most part I’m content to be me, with the family I have now and the life I live (minus the monsters) it’s pretty perfect.

[threshie]

Anybody want some post-Hell!Dean Hurt/Comfort/Heavy Angst with caring, comforting Sam and no shipping involved? Still No Rest for the Wicked by Liniwrites is 2.2k words and will give you feels. It’s basically a coda for 4.01 where Sam gets Dean to talk about Hell.

#fic rec #still no rest for the wicked #post-hell dean #4.01 #hurt/comfort #angst #crying #Hell #just ouch #Dean was in Hell for more years than he was out from his perspective #fanfic #ficlet #dean winchester #sam winchester

[stanfordsweater]

What fics make you viscerally upset 👀

i believe i've recced most of these before, but here's a list of fics that are absolutely amazing and just as heart-wrenching, bittersweet, or disturbing. a lot of them are in line with the more creepy things that happen in canon, just taken to a more emotionally devastating place than the show ever brings us. mind the tags, take care of yourself, don’t use any of these to harm yourself if any of them make you uncomfortable (in a way you aren’t looking to feel uncomfortable, in any case)

behold, a pale horse by cherie_morte, 19k+:

AU after 8x23: When Sam fails to complete the third trial, a tear in the barrier between Earth and Hell is created and hellspawn called shadon are unleashed. The only way to bind these creatures and close the gates of Hell is for a sacrifice to be made by the man who chose his own life over completing the trials, and this time, the price is even greater. In order to correct the apocalypse he's released, Sam must kill his soulmate and live with the consequences.

After years without Dean, Sam dies on a hunt and thinks he will finally be reunited with his brother in Heaven. But when his reaper appears, it's Dean himself, and he's not as willing to reap Sam as Sam is to be reaped.

i sobbed for days after i finished this fic and i woke up from nightmares about it for a few *months* after i read it. i truly think this is the worst possible ending for sam and dean, but it’s not necessarily unhappy-- it hits a lot of my worst fears, which is why it affects me so badly. i can’t say anything else without spoiling it, but i truly think this is one of the best fics in this fandom. devastating. (would love to talk about this after you read it!!!! it drives me crazy!!!!!!!! but seriously, go in without spoiling yourself, you’ll thank me later. through tears.)

a list of typos made by god by cherie_morte, 44k+:

The summer before Sam leaves for Stanford, Dean begins to forget his relationship with Sam. Every morning he remembers less, and Sam is just waiting for the day Dean forgets him completely.

iirc this one isn’t as emotionally devastating as the last one, because it’s partially dealing with sam coming of age. it’s a really interesting look at who a teenage sam could be in a world where dean doesn’t remember the things they’ve done together, doesn’t remember their relationship. what do you do when the only person who really knows you begins to forget about you? it’s very well-written and a unique perspective on their dynamic.

fly by askance, 5k:

Sam wakes up in an unfamiliar room with Dean and finds that he can't remember anything past the moment when those angels began to fall from Heaven. He has a sneaking suspicion that something is not quite right.

a what-if variation on how dean could have saved sam at the end of season eight if the angels hadn’t been an option. this is a real horror fic, so be VERY CAREFUL of the tags!! this is such a delicious character piece. ahhh, i don’t want to spoil it for anybody, but askance does a great job bringing sam’s creeping horror to life. just read it, if you’re okay with insects-- it’s that good. (and i love the double meaning in the title, haha)

the hollow summer by deadlybride, 17k+:

Sam rescued Dean from hell, but when it was over only Dean came back to earth. Every summer they steal a few months together, but Sam can never stay. Dean's figuring out how to live with that.

hnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn ;~; holy shit, i don’t even know what to say-- just read this!! it’s uniquely miserable, yet there’s a strange kind of hopefulness underneath that keeps me from wanting to throw myself off a building like the first fic on this list did. (cherie_morte, if you ever see this, this is a positive review, i swear, jgfjgf) i LOVE any fic that confronts the way that sam and dean are always paying the price for whatever slice of happiness they carve out. they’re cursed. this fic is a gut-punch, and in that way it’s the most interesting version of the sam-saves-dean-from-hell trope. i loved the way different mythologies are woven in-- there’s the persephone parallels from the prompt, but there’s also some orpheus parallels later on, and it’s written in the way that liz always writes like she’s dipping cloth into dye full of atmosphere and emotions and posting the result. we’re so deep into dean’s headspace that it’s a shock when we find out what happened, so long ago, to bring them here, and there’s no way around feeling the same things that dean does, with how rich the descriptions are. 

all the long years by nigeltde, 900+:

Nothing changes

unrequited love makes me want to cry. when it’s between sam and dean, that multiples itself tenfold. this is a beautiful ficlet that makes my heart turn over and ache whenever i return to it.

willing by interstitial, 13k+:

After expelling Gadreel, Sam kills himself to close the Gates of Hell. Dean copes poorly alone, and then they cope poorly together.

this one has what i’d consider a happy ending, but it fits here because it has a very sad premise. ...also i’ll plug it anywhere i can because it’s in my top five fics for this fandom. i looooove this fic, i’ve read it five times (and after posting this i’m going for a sixth!!!) i think the characterization of sam and dean is really compelling and it has a great take on hell politics and the shifting landscape with different rulers. love dean’s trauma-related mutism and the echo of sam post-season four running himself ragged to get dean back juxtaposed with dean, in this fic, doing his best to get sam back or die trying. if you love the codependency you’ll love this.

at least he died human by pinbitch, 2k+:

Dean doesn’t believe for a second that the detox can really kill Sam. That’s not the only thing Dean’s wrong about.

i’ll admit i don’t usually enjoy the dean-accidentally-kills-sam fics out there, but the fact that this one is written from dean’s pov made it interesting. i like the bits of what-if horror here, like the idea that they easily could have burned sam alive without realizing he had been resurrected by lucifer, and i loved this line from castiel’s section:  The only power he’s been able to muster is just enough to preserve Sam’s body, and he’s starting to think that was a mistake. Maybe if his brother started to smell Dean would be more inclined to burn his remains. i also loved the way that cas isn’t able to identify dean’s very obvious intention to commit suicide as soon as he’s put sam to rest. because i love pain and suffereing i’d be even happier with this fic if they accidentally killed sam again without realizing he had come back to life but that’s a fic i need to write myself i guess

thinking of you by deadlybride, 1k+:

February 17, 2010. Sam struggles with his addiction.

and for a different take on sam’s detox, this is a spectacular “missing scene” from the episode where dean comes to check on sam. cw for addiction, because it felt like a very accurate take on the come down/detox. phew. loved the language around vessels, the repetitive theme of sam being unable to be filled up, and the way that the abruptness every few paragraphs feels like sam suddenly comes to awareness after blacking out. 

like it was yesterday by nomelon, 4k+:

Sam can't remember a time when Dean wasn't there. Dean is always with him. Sam's whole life, there's never been anyone else.

there’s literally nothing i can say about this one without spoiling it, but god damn. the best summary for this fic is that Something Terrible Has Happened and you just need to read it, because the slow creeping realization of exactly what has happened is an experience.

#thank me for restraining myself from reccing the n****philia fics #because there's a lot in this fandom and they're all really creepy and well-written LMAO #but apparently i've never bookmarked any so you're safe for one day more #this turned into a list of sad fics rather than disturbing but behold a plae horse and fly and like it was yesterday #are definitely disturbing #at least to me #plain* horse #fic rec #wincest #and also some not wincest #.ask #there's two other fics that i wanted to rec but i know that they're in my fic rec tag so search there for the zombie sam fic #and the preseries one that i won't rec again for petty reasons #edit: what the fuck am i talking about i meant pale** horse

[thesassywallflower]

Of Stitches and Satin

Characters - Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary - While you love running your family formal wear shop, sometimes you get a customer that drives you absolutely batty. So to cope you people watch the customers coming and going from the shops around yours. In particular one specific hunter, and sometimes you even let yourself daydream about that person.

Word Count - 2,674

Warnings - Steamy daydreams and that’s about it I think. This is my first Reader fic so all my apologies in advance for any pronoun and perspective mistakes. Please be gentle. Also this is unbeta-ed so more apologies for missed words, comma abuse and grammatical errors.

Happy SPN Fanfic Secret Santa to @waywardnerd67 who asked for a fluffy, smutty Dean x Reader! I hope you like it!

***

“If I have to sew this lace back onto this bodice one more damn time, I’m burning this dress and then sending the bride the bill for any damage to the shop…” You muttered around a mouthful of pins. This was it. The last bit of hand sewing needed to finish the seam holding the last bit of lace overlay on the bodice. Finally. Good lord, you’d dealt with numerous bridezillas over the years you’d spent running your formal wear shop, but this one took the cake. You’d altered this particular bride’s dress no less than fifteen times, and half of those alterations were an adjustment of a quarter inch or less. Once she’d demanded that you shorten the train by an eighth of an inch. A FRICKIN’ EIGHTH OF AN INCH. All because the bride said the train didn’t perfectly line up between the aisle as she walked down it! Like what the actual hell?? 

Normally you'd put your foot down after the fifth or sixth time, but when the bride was the daughter of your parents' college best friends, you could only bite your tongue and cope with it all by drinking an extra glass of wine or three after work. Mercifully the wedding was tomorrow so the Nuptial Nightmare wouldn’t have time to request another alteration…at least you hoped not. After this dress you were seriously going to have to rethink your customer contracts.

Most of the time you loved your job. Even with demanding brides and nightmare mother in laws, there wasn’t anything else you’d rather do. You loved the way a sixteen year old’s eyes light up as they tried on a ball gown for the first time and saw just how beautiful they truly were. 

Loved seeing a mother of the bride’s happy tears as their daughter gasped with joy when they found that perfect dress. 

Loved watching a seventeen year old’s shoulders straightened and immediately pulled a James Bond pose in the mirror as they tried on their first tuxedo.

But then there were the few like this particular Bridal Beelzebub that made you want to scream right into their botoxed and Juvedermed faces, “Fuck you! You can take your stupid lace and crinolines and shove them all up your ass! I’m gonna go clean Porta Potties for a living!”

Stretching your neck in an attempt to loosen the excruciatingly tight muscles that had formed from being hunched over a needle and thread for the past 4 hours. You glanced at the clock. 10:15! It was almost time for your favorite show. Which was ogling one Dean Winchester as he walked to and from the post office across the street. He didn’t show up daily. Sometimes weeks would pass between his visits, but when he did, he always -like a Swiss watch calibrated down to the millisecond- walked into the post office at 10:20. Sometimes with his brother and sometimes alone, but always precisely on time. 

Most of the time he came out with the strangest boxes. Once you would’ve sworn the box he was holding was shaking and glowing a putrid yellow. Another time, it looked like he and Sam were carting out a body bag. But while it was entertaining to try to guess what they might be picking up, the real reason you liked to watch him walk into the post office was…well…to simply watch him walk down the street. Yes, that probably made you the absolute worst sort of creeper, but a person only had to glance at that man, and they would’ve been mashing their nose against your shop window right alongside you. 

Quite simply the man was sex on a pair of long bowed legs. Gods above, the only thing better than watching him walk into the post office was the view from the back as he walked away. His ass alone could stop traffic and then there were those shoulders. Sigh. And the way he walked…It was like watching an ancient Viking march across the deck of his long boat. Like a Pict covering the battlefield in ground-eating strides on his way to take on the Roman legions invading his clans 

You sighed in anticipation. Two minutes to go. Maybe just maybe, this time he’d stop by your shop too. Not that he ever did, but maybe the good Lord would reward your patience with the bride from hell with a visit from one of His most gorgeous creations. Now he was at your brother’s a couple times a month, but never yours.

Your family had been in the dry cleaning and formal wear business here in Lebanon for almost a century. The shop had been passed down through the generations starting with your great grandparents until it reached you and your brothers. Technically it was two stores. One the dry cleaners and one the dress shop, but you all considered it one store. You tackled the formal wear store, your youngest brother manned the dry cleaners, and your oldest brother ran the business side of it all. Dean had never stopped by your side of the business before, and why would he? Unless they had a wedding, prom, or gala event (not that those ever happened here in Lebanon), men generally avoided your shop like the plague. Which meant that Dean never stopped by your shop. The Winchesters were frequent customers of your brother’s though, and Vincent would occasionally send a shirt or jacket your way to patch up a tear or a hole. Why two men put their poor clothes through so much torture, you would never know. And things on those clothes! Blood and dirt you could explain away, but the other weird stuff? Your brother was always dragging you over to guess what would cause the stains on the men’s clothing. Just a couple weeks ago, they’d both brought in two complete outfits all covered in fuchsia goo that smelled oddly of pepperoni pizza. Like what the what??

The rumble of his Impala echoed down the street. There he was! He parked in his usual spot and stepped out of his car. Sweet mercy, he was wearing that emerald green buffalo checked plaid. This particular shirt was your favorite. It featured prominently in a number of your daydreams. In fact, it had been the star of the one you’d had before you’d fell to sleep last night…

He playfully tugged the bolt of satin you were rolling up out of your hands and tossed it onto the massive cutting table behind you. “Enough work for today, sweetheart. It’s time to dance, Y/N!”

‘But-but I need to finish adding the satin edge to that flower girl dress. They’re picking it up tomorrow evening!”

“I know, but all work and no play makes my girl a very tired and stressed out girl, and I can’t have that. Now step away from the satin and come dance with me.” Those velvety soft lips, grinned down at you. How could you resist that smile?

“Okay, okay,” you groused, secretly giddy to not only take a break, but to spend time with your favorite person.

Dean tapped his phone and immediately the sounds of Wilson Pickett’s version of Bring It On Home To Me filled the work room. Sliding his arms around you, he pulled you in close, so close you could feel buttons of his green flannel shirt brush against your chest, and began to sway you around the room.

“Thank you,” he smiled down happily at you as he twirled you around the workspace.

“For what?” you smiled back. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Yes, you did. You took time out of your crazy work day to be with me. I know how busy you are this time of year, how many deadlines that you’re juggling and how much pressure you put on yourself to make all your customers happy. So it means the world to me knowing that you made time for little ol’ me.”

You felt a blush burning up the back of your neck and tried to deflect with humor. You’d never been one to take a compliment well. “Well, I wouldn’t exactly call you little… Plus, do you remember how many plates of spaghetti you put down last night?”

“Hey now!” Dean squeezed your butt in retaliation, inadvertently causing your pelvis to press against his crotch. You softly gasped in reaction, heat instantly pooling in your center. He was already semi erect. How long had it been for you two? You’d both been so busy lately that there hadn’t been time for anymore then a lingering kiss here and there. 

His eyes flared as he caught your quiet response. The song switched to Allen Rayman’s Lucy The Tease, as he gently grabbed your hips and ground his cock against your core. Like a match striking an iron stove, fire flared between you two, and you were dragging his head down to you. Your mouths met, and you both sighed. This. This was what you both needed so desperately. At first you kept it gentle. Each taking little sips from the other lips, a gentle nip here and there. Then his tongue licked along the seam of your lips and when you opened to him to tangle your tongue with his, all gentleness flew out the window. Hands tangled in hair, tore at clothing as you both struggled to find bare skin to touch.

“Too many clothes,” he rasped as he tugged at the strings of your heavy canvas work apron and pulled it and your shirt over your head. 

“Me? Why do you have to wear so many shirts at a time?” A squeak punctuating your question as he licked at the tendons in your neck.

He kept walking you backwards until your ass hit the cutting table. He reached to lift you up on the oak surface.

“Wait! The satin!” you yelped. 

“Fucking satin,” he huffed with exasperated laughter as he tugged off his flannel. He spread the soft green and black checkered material over the baby pink satin and smirked down at you, “Good?”

“Perfect.” You quickly unbuttoned your jeans and shimmied them down your legs and hopped up onto the table.

Dean stilled at the sight of you clad only in black and green plaid panties and matching bra. You laughed self consciously and nervously tucked stray strands of hair that had fallen out of your ponytail behind your ears. “What can I say? I have a thing for that shirt.”

“Sweetheart? You flatter me,” a wolfish smile tugged at his lips as his big, calloused hands slowly spread your thighs wide, and he knelt between them. Weighted seconds passed as he stared at the damp fabric covering your pussy. How were you getting wet by him just looking at you? It wasn’t fair. The man was a veritable warlock when it came to making love. 

Then he was tugging at the waistband of your underwear, “Lift.” He commanded and you instantly complied. He dragged the panties off and tossed them who knew where. Then he leaned forward those last few inches and handed you heaven. He buried his face between your thighs and dragged his wicked tongue along your delicate lips before spreading them with his thumbs and blowing a stream of cool air directly on your swollen bud. The bud that was nearly vibrating for his touch.

“Dean!” you wailed, desperation threading your cry. “Please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely…” 

The next thing you knew his tongue was dragging from your channel to the bud eagerly waiting for him. You hissed and your hips bucked upwards at just that simple touch. “More! Please!”

He then set to work on your clit, licking and suckling as you threaded your fingers through that short honey brown hair. One of those strong, clever hands of his reached up to unfasten your bra and began stroking your soft breasts, carefully pinching and tugging at your hard nipples. All the while he never stopped worshiping your pussy.

The heat and pleasure cascading through your body began to tighten and tighten until it exploded. You cried out, toes curling as you fell backwards, barely catching yourself on your elbows. It had been a long time since you’d come that fast. Dean stood up, wiping your moisture off his lips and slowly licked it off each finger. You whimpered, and your channel clenched in response.

“Your turn,” you purred as you eyed the length straining the limits of denim currently confining it. You couldn’t wait to get a taste of him. After all, turnabout's fair play and all that. You reached out and pried open that brass button and tugged down his zipper, careful to not catch any sensitive skin. He spilled out onto your waiting hand and you stroked his cotton covered cock, mouth watering for him.

“Sweetheart…” he groaned and pried your eager fingers off his length. “Y/N. Stop.”

You froze. “Do you not want me to-”

“No! Yes! No!” Dean pressed his forward to yours. “I mean yes, I want your mouth on my dick in the worst way possible, but it’s been so long that I want-need to be in you when I come. I need you to come with me. Together.”

Desire shafted through you in waves more intense than what you just experienced. “Oh. Okay then.”

“You sure?” he asked as he pulled his jeans and charcoal grey boxer briefs over his hips and tore off his henley and undershirt.

“Always. I’m always sure with you.”

The swollen head of his cock was nudging through your drenched folds and nestled at your aching entrance. He glanced down into your eyes, silently asking again. “Yes, my love, a million times yes,” you breathed as you tugged his lips down to yours again, desperately needing every inch of him touching you. You both gasped into the kiss at that first thrust. He didn’t stop until he filled you to the brim. 

You stilled. 

One breath passed. 

Two. 

Three.

Then he broke, thrusting and thrusting his cock in and out, grinding against your bud with each down stroke. You wrapped your legs around his hips and held on for dear life. He tore his lips from yours and captured one of your nipples, swirling his tongue around and around that hard tip. You dragged your short finger nails down his scarred and muscled back until you reached his ass. You began kneading and stroking those firm cheeks.

He thrust harder in response. That heat began to spiral again, only lower and deeper this time. You began chanting his name under your breath. 

Close. So close.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I got you. You can come. I got you.” He murmured in your ear before nipping it.

With that you went over, pleasure radiating through every pore until you swore you saw fireworks. You screamed as that final wave crested. Dean was right behind you, pouring himself into you with a strained shout.

Panting, you clasped him in your arms and rested your cheek against his chest. He brushed a kiss against the crown of your head. “That was amazing. You’re an absolute goddess, Y/N.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, sir,” you chuckled as you brushed a tender kiss against his jaw.

“Think that satin survived all that?” he snorted.

Your eyes flew open as you surveyed the damage around you. Clothes and underwear were strewn across the room. Somehow your bra was dangling off your mannequin’s head like it was a Von Dutch hat model in 2005. “Oh lord! The flower girl’s dress! I’m never going to be able to look her mother in the eye again after what we just did on it!”

Dean threw back his head and laughed, “I’m sure it’s-”

CLANG, CLANG, CLANG!!

The sharp peel of the bell above your door shattered your daydream. With a huff of mild annoyance you turned to face the customer rude enough to interrupt it. 

Green eyes met your shocked ones. “Hi there. Do you happen to do suit alterations here?”

Tagging - @spnfanficpond and @mrswhozeewhatsis

#spnfanficpond secret santa #spn fic #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean x you #manda writes

[starlessea]

𝙎𝙩𝙚𝙥 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙖𝙨 - Prologue 0. Closing Time

Series Masterlist: Step on the Gas

Summary: A dishonourable discharge from the military results in you being hauled off to live with your grandparents in the boonies, otherwise known as the middle of nowhere Georgia. After running over a nail on the road, and pushing your grandpa's vintage Camaro to the nearest auto-shop, you meet Daryl Dixon - the local mechanic. At some point, the world ends, but that stubborn man never gives you a chance to slow down. His smile gives you whiplash, but he still insists that you to step on the gas.

Words: 6286

Chapter Warnings: Language, Injury

The sky was empty — save for one bird.

Daryl watched it fly above him, so close to the ground that he could make out the beating of its wings and swore he saw individual feathers flutter in the breeze.

His fingers itched over his crossbow, as he contemplated shooting it down from the sky and plucking it clean. He'd have something to eat then, at least. Though, for some reason, Daryl Dixon couldn't bring himself to let loose his arrow, watching as the bird soared overhead — and disappeared beyond the trees.

The man sighed as he kicked up some loose stones with the toe of his boot. What a waste, he thought, before trudging through the field once again.

The sky remained cloudless for the rest of the day, existing as a pale, washed-out grey that made Daryl feel uncomfortable as he hunted. The game must have felt the same, since the deer he'd been tracking made itself scarce, and the string of squirrels hanging from his belt seemed no heavier than it had done when the sun rose that morning.

Still, he trekked onwards over the thick, winding grass and through damp forest overgrowth. He was nearly back at the quarry already, but he hardly had anything to show for it. A few measly rodents and a sprained ankle were barely worth his trip in the first place; they sure as hell wouldn't be enough for all of the mouths he now had to feed.

Daryl cursed at himself for hesitating to shoot that bird straight out of the sky, and clip its wings. It wasn't much, but maybe it would have lasted a day if he was lucky. Still, there was no use wondering now, since it had swooped so close to him that he almost felt the downward draft on his cheek — and then he let it fly away.

He thought that it had been a jaeger; it definitely looked like a seabird that had veered too far from the shore. It was a gull with a white breast and dark, blackish feathers — and a wingspan that made sure you couldn't miss it.

He remembered you pointing one out to him, at 3am, parked up on that deserted beach as the two of you stared out into the rocking ocean.

"Ya thinkin' 'bout 'er again, baby brother?"

Daryl could hear Merle's voice taunt, in the deepest, darkest corners of his thoughts.

"Tha' lil' birdie of yours?"

He quickly shook his head — even though it was the truth.

It had been Daryl's own mind that conjured up those words, after all. Merle wasn't actually here. He was probably back at the campsite, lazing about and leering after women far too good for a beaten-up redneck like him.

Though, funnily enough, Merle had said the exact same thing to Daryl when he noticed his gaze settling over the new bar server, who swiped away the froth spilling over from their draught beers. Merle had given him even more of an earful when he realised that his younger brother was waiting for her shift to end.

Daryl took a deep breath, before rolling his neck to try and relieve the tension that had built up there. Once his mind drifted into thoughts of you — even if only for a split second — it often sank to the point of no return.

You were all consuming; you had been from the first time he laid eyes on you in that old, country auto-repair shop.

He remembered the way your voice chirped like a bird's, despite the curses that often fell from your lips.

You even made those sound sweet.

And he could also recall the way you yelled over the rumble of his bike engine, and competed with the screeching that came from his tyres losing their grip on the worn-out tarmac.

You'd told him that it felt like you were flying — and that was probably the reason why Daryl Dixon couldn't shoot that jaeger.

Then, the man heard something louder than he had done since the world ended — and suddenly, the sky was no longer empty.

There was an explosion, and that dull greyness was set alight with brilliant hues of red and orange. It made fire start to rain down upon Daryl, who could only stand and watch below. Debris fell out of the sky like a meteor shower, landing beyond the trees in the distance — to a place that Daryl couldn't quite make out, no matter how much he squinted.

The air became full with the sounds of scraping metal and flickering flames that caught the leaves and made them burn up like the end of a cigarette. Daryl felt his heart race as the adrenaline pumped its way through his veins, and made him flinch each time something crashed heavily to the ground.

There was often a moment in a person's life where their brain got kick-started into gear — and they awoke from whatever auto-pilot they'd been functioning on until that point.

For most, it was probably a mundane milestone like marriage or parenthood.

For others, it might have been a life or death situation that made them re-evaluate their perspective.

For some, it had only happened when the world actually ended, and the apocalypse began.

And perhaps, if Daryl had been a smarter man, it would have been this instant — as he gazed up at the sky and watched it burn above him. Maybe this was his second life-changing realisation; maybe he was lucky enough to get two.

But, for Daryl, the first had just been a regular Tuesday.

The garage was sticky hot that day. It was the kind of heat that made you sweat no matter how many fans you had blowing — since Old man Dean was too cheap to install air conditioning. His boss was a bit of a stickler for paying his bills, and nit picky with his nickles, but he'd always been kind to Daryl.

That being said, working as a mechanic wasn't exactly where Daryl had pictured himself at his age; but then again, he couldn't really picture himself anywhere at all. He felt like that last piece of the jigsaw puzzle, which didn't quite fit in with the others — the one that you had to bend into shape just to make it work.

Sure, he enjoyed seeing the different bikes roll in and out of the shop — those models he would never be able to afford — and Daryl appreciated having a few extra dollars in his pocket for when Merle raided his savings to score some pot.

Besides, there wasn't much else to do in the boonies. Daryl's old man once told him that the only interesting thing to rear its ugly head out of Georgia's backyard in the last fifty years was Dean's Auto Shop. That's probably why Daryl started working there in the first place, as a summer job when he was teenager — and had never really left since.

As much as he didn't want to admit it, his old man had been right about one thing — despite the bastard never catching on to the role of father. He'd been right about the shop being the only interesting thing around.

Because it was the place where he met her.

And then she became the only thing in that small town even worth being interested in.

Daryl didn't hear a car pull up into the shop, but he heard the mumbling outside from where he sat in the breakroom — chewing on some of Dean's leftover pizza that was bordering on stale.

"Dixon, get your ass out here for a second, would you?" the old man yelled, banging on the thin wall that separated them with his fist.

Daryl cursed below his breath, throwing the rest of his food into the trash and dusting off his hands over his jeans. He stepped out into the shop, and was met by an unfamiliar face — looking over at him curiously.

He suddenly felt unexplainably nervous, and dropped his head down to his feet as though it were a reflex he didn't know he had.

"This is your guy," he heard Dean say, before letting out one of his usual chesty coughs.

The man smoked a pack a day too much — and that was coming from Daryl.

"Owner of that bike you've been eyeing, too," he went on.

That caught Daryl's attention, and he instantly glanced up at the woman in question. She was breath-taking, but she also looked very much out of breath. She seemed as though she had run here, despite the Georgia heat.

"You ride?" he asked, but his gruff voice made it sound like more of a demand.

He grimaced at his own tone, but the woman didn't seem bothered by it in the slightest.

She laughed, and it sounded like nothing he'd ever heard before. "I wish," she said, running her palm along the polished metal and tracing her finger over that shiny logo.

Usually, Daryl would bark at anyone who touched his bike, and Dean seemed as though he expected him to do just that — from the way he raised an eyebrow at the daring woman, too oblivious for her own good.

Except, Daryl stayed quiet.

"Was never allowed within a mile radius of one," she went on, before turning back around to grin at Daryl like it was easy. "My folks were scared I'd take off into the sunset, never to be seen again."

He could relate to that. After all, it was exactly what he and Merle had done as soon as they'd gotten the chance.

"Mhm," he hummed back, before glancing over at the car parked in the middle of the shop. "She's pretty."

It was a steel blue colour — would definitely benefit from a lick of paint, but still pretty nonetheless. The tread looked good on the tyres, and Daryl couldn't see any signs of the rusting those models were prone to. Someone had taken good care of it.

"Excuse me?" the woman asked, and suddenly Daryl was reminded of just how bad he was with words.

He cleared his throat, and ran his hand over the hood.

"Yer car," he explained, "'69 Chevy Camaro?"

Daryl asked, but he already knew the answer.

"Oh yeah, that," she replied, sending him an apologetic look. "It's my grandpa's, so we're going to have to be real discreet about this situation over here."

Daryl raised an eyebrow as she beckoned him to the other side of the car, crouching down near the wheel arch.

"Some bastard left a nail in the road, and I ran straight through the thing like it was a stop sign," she grumbled, pointing out the puncture.

Daryl almost laughed at that — but he was still much too jaded from being caught in the middle of his break.

The woman stood back up and toed the deflated tyre with her boot, scowling at the sight of it.

"I know you're closing soon, but I had to push it half a mile just to get here," she said, and wiped her brow with the back of her hand.

Suddenly, her appearance made sense. Since he'd first laid eyes on her, all she'd done was tug at the collar of her vest, and try to stand in front of one of those poor excuses for a fan. But even then, Daryl couldn't quite believe her story.

"Ain't no way ya pushed that thing 'ere by yerself." The words left his mouth before he could consider them twice.

And the look she shot Daryl in return made him want to take them straight back.

But then, she smiled.

"I'm stronger than I look," she protested, leaning against the hot car. "You can ask the dozen assholes who catcalled me on the way but never offered their help."

This time, Daryl did let out a chuckle.

"Damn lucky y'ain't pass out," he quipped back, "heat's no joke."

She grinned again, and Daryl wondered whether she had an endless supply — or if she'd saved them just for him.

"Tell me about it," the woman teased. "Never liked visiting Georgia because of it."

Then, it all made sense to Daryl — the reason why she intrigued him so much.

"Y'ain't from 'round here, are ya?" he asked, surprising himself.

Usually, he couldn't give a 'rat's ass', as Dean called it, about anyone who stumbled into their shop. Never did they get more than a half-hearted greeting from Daryl, or a grunt as he told them to mind their head on that low door frame (she didn't have that problem). Though today, he seemed oddly talkative.

"Haven't seen ya before," he added.

The woman folded her arms over her chest.

"Would you recognise me if you had?" she asked.

"E'erybody knows e'erybody in this place," he answered. "I'd remember if I saw ya cross the street."

It was partially the truth. Daryl knew most people — but he only bothered to remember a select few.

"Moved here last week," she caved, proving him right. "I'm keeping my grandparents company watching daytime cable and doing grocery runs."

Daryl smirked. "An' runnin' over nails with their car, apparently."

"That, too," she confessed.

It was silent for a few seconds, and Daryl realised that he should probably give her a quote for the job. Though, she interrupted him before he could.

"Listen, your new neighbour would be really grateful if you could cut her a break," she said, eyeing the Camaro like she was considering whether it was even worth the hassle. "The old man's going to kill me if I come home on foot tonight."

Daryl knew what she was asking. The notice in the shop window made it clear that they'd be closing in half an hour; Daryl had been all but ready to flip the sign himself. Before she'd arrived, he'd even dared to think that he could shut early — and possibly get to crack open a cold beer and enjoy the breeze of his porch.

He sighed.

"I'll see what I can do," Daryl mumbled, "but I ain't makin' no promises," he warned — as he caught the way her eyes lit up at his words.

But that was a lie. Daryl knew he wouldn't let himself go home until it was finished.

The woman was utterly gleeful. He watched her smile much too widely for her face, and for a moment Daryl thought that she might even jump at him. But she seemed to catch herself at the last second, and abruptly stopped.

She didn't falter long, though. "Thank you, thank you so much!" she said, excitedly, before pausing to tap at her jean pockets. "I don't have any cash on me for a deposit, but I'm heading to work now."

She looked sheepish as she explained herself.

"I'll come straight back and pay in full," she added, trying her best to convince him.

Daryl narrowed his eyes like he didn't quite understand. Then he did, and he laughed properly.

"Deposit?" he asked, shaking his head. "City girl, here we jus' keep yer vehicle if ya can't pay."

The woman's expression was priceless. She looked as though she couldn't figure out whether he was joking or not, and stared at Daryl with her mouth slightly agape as she debated which it was.

He couldn't watch any longer.

"Where ya workin'?" he asked.

Then, he cursed himself for doing so. Time was ticking on, and he already had to stay overtime because of his inability to say no. Well, usually he had no problem with the word; it just seemed like it was stuck in his throat today.

"Joe's bar," she replied. "It's a few blocks over and-"

"I know Joe's bar," Daryl interrupted.

Everybody knew Joe's. It was the only place around that sold a decent draught beer. He'd been going there since he was a teenager — younger than he should have been, but old enough to know better.

"Me an' my brother go there a lot, but I ain't seen you 'round."

She nodded.

"Only started a few days ago. Hopefully they don't fire me for being late."

Daryl glanced at the clock. It was approaching his closing time and her opening one.

"Ya better get runnin', Camaro," he noted, tapping at his watch that didn't even work. "Rush hour soon."

The woman narrowed her eyes at the nickname. Daryl didn't know her real one yet, and felt like it was too late to ask for it. He'd have to catch a glimpse of Dean's log book later to find out.

"Will do," she replied with a smile. "Thanks again, Dixon."

Though Daryl couldn't quite work out how she knew his name, either.

He watched her scurry about collecting her things, and walked her to the entrance. The sun was starting to set — leaving the sky a pinkish orange that only made him squint the more he looked at it. He held the door open for the woman, and heard Dean snort from the back of the shop. But the way she thanked him made it worth the teasing.

"Take care of that sixties Honda," she winked, "she's a real beauty."

Daryl was surprised that she knew the model of his bike, considering she'd never even ridden one.

"If only ya knew," he mumbled back as he saw her off. "Will take ya for a ride one time if yer willin'."

She stopped in place. Daryl didn't know why he said that. It had just slipped from his mouth like oil from a can.

The woman laughed and rolled her eyes like she didn't believe him.

"That's what they all say."

Then, she started to jog down the street — just like she said she would — and Daryl thought her crazy for even attempting it in this midsummer Georgia weather. That woman had entered the shop like a whirlwind, and when she left Daryl couldn't remember what he'd even been doing before.

Dean cleared his throat and threw a rag at him that he barely managed to catch.

"Keep it in your pants, boy."

Daryl scowled at the man; he knew him better than that. So, he didn't give him the satisfaction of a reply, and instead got started on setting the Camaro up on a jack.

"She's a beauty, I get it," Dean went on, despite his silence. "Her type don't belong in a place like this, that's for damn sure."

Daryl had to agree with him there. He'd gotten a glimpse of his reflection in the wing mirror of her car and grimaced. He had grease on his face, and part of him cursed Dean for not telling him before he'd left the breakroom.

"But you know Mike and Doreen?" the old man asked, and Daryl nodded. "That's their granddaughter."

Daryl furrowed his brow — not realising he'd done it until he caught himself in the glass once again. Mike was a hard man, the type to straighten out any kinks in a person with brute force and that baby boomer spite.

"She may be real pretty, kid, but that one's trouble," Dean noted, confirming his suspicions.

He ignored the way he called him 'kid'. The old man still hadn't grown out of the habit — despite Daryl being well beyond his teenage years now.

"Trouble?" he repeated, like he couldn't quite comprehend the word being associated with someone like that.

Dean chuckled — but it turned into one of those coughs that made Daryl wince.

"Maybe more so than you," he said. "Got kicked out of the military, I heard."

Daryl spat at the floor, and Dean laughed again. They both hated those military dogs who often paraded through their town, looking at them as though they were trash beneath their government-issued boots.

But, if she'd been kicked out then maybe they could find some common ground.

Old man Dean wagged his finger at him, recognising Daryl's no-good expression; he'd become familiar with it by now, from all the times he'd worn it throughout the years.

"So don't go losing your head over her, Dixon," he cautioned, pretending not to know how good Daryl was at throwing caution to the wind.

"And remember to close up before you leave."

But it was too late.

Daryl had already lost his head, and his heart — but he wouldn't know that the latter was missing for a very long time.

You ran the cloth along the oak bar surface, wiping away any sticky beer rings that had been left there.

This is why we have coasters, you sighed.

It had been a slow Tuesday night, but you'd somehow still been roped into working the close. You tried to tell your boss that you were having car troubles, and had plans to stop by the garage on your way home — but he seemed to prioritise his own date over yours.

Well, you wouldn't exactly call giving the local mechanic his cheque a date; usually, you didn't have to pay for those. But you couldn't deny how it had made you feel when he smiled that smile your way — so small that you'd almost missed it — before you took off running out the door.

It gave you whiplash.

Perhaps he was just being friendly. But, then again, he didn't seem like the naturally friendly type. You shook your head, throwing the beer-soaked rag into the sink. You didn't trust that man in the slightest.

That wasn't a new development, really; you didn't trust most men. And, you often found that the ones who made your heart race like that were the worst of them all. He was trouble, that one, and you'd had enough of that to last a lifetime.

You untied the double knot of your apron, and folded it up neatly. There were a few whiskey stains on it — you'd caught a whiff of that top-shelf scent a few times now — but you were already too late to even consider putting it in the wash. Instead, you left it at the end of the bar, and swapped it out for the ring of keys lying there.

It was closing time, and you prepared yourself to run three blocks in the dark. You stepped out into the night, feeling the cool breeze on your cheek as opposed to the midday heat that had been there when your shift started. You flipped the latch and turned the key in the lock until you heard it click.

Then, you held them between your knuckles so that the jagged edge poked out.

"Ya done for the night?" a voice came from the shadows, and your heart dropped.

That brief second lasted a lifetime as the blood rushed to your ears like a strong current through running water, and your grip tightened over those keys. But then, you noticed the reflection in the glass panels of the door — and relaxed.

"Jesus, you scared the shit out of me," you scolded the man, "thought you were a dejected patron tryna jump me or something."

Perhaps he was; you still didn't know any better.

Dixon was leaning against that dingy brick wall, opposite the back door of Joe's Bar. You didn't even know what that other building was — but some sketchy figures usually loomed about it, so you tried to stay clear.

Maybe he didn't get the memo, you thought.

"Tha' happen before?" the man asked back, casually.

Though, the dim street lights overhead illuminated his face, and you caught a glimpse of his serious expression before he let it drop. He held a lit cigarette between his fingers — almost smoked down to the butt already — and it made you wonder just how long he'd been waiting for you.

"Maybe once or twice," you laughed, but it didn't sound as natural as you had intended.

You noticed the man's eyes flicker down towards the keys held between your knuckles, and you quickly slipped them into your jean pocket — hoping that he wouldn't pry. Luckily, he didn't seem like the type to unnecessarily butt into other people's business.

The smoke trailed from his lips and caught the stark light of the street lamp. He almost looked cold — bathed in that bluish tint which made those cigarette fumes seem nearly luminescent.

"You here to make sure I don't run off with your paycheck?" you teased, fishing out the wad of bills from your back pocket.

You waved them at him, and considered how precarious the situation may seem to an onlooker if they happened to pass by. The man looked as though he felt the same, since he quickly glanced over his shoulder down the alleyway — checking to make sure you were alone.

"Don't worry, Dixon, I busted my ass tonight just so I could leave you a nice tip," you said with a smile, handing the money to him.

He took it, slowly, as though he had to remind himself what it was even for.

Then, he let that cigarette butt fall to the floor, and stamped it out with his boot — before dragging it along the concrete until it was nothing but embers.

The man shook his head at you. "'M here on behalf of the welcome committee."

You snorted as you processed his words, and followed him out of that narrow alleyway into the main street.

"Bullshit," you called, "as if-"

You rounded the corner after him, and stopped. He was there, leaning against that pristine sixties Honda bike — spare helmet in hand.

It was parked up on the sidewalk, polished metal glinting in all its glory under those neon lamps. Dixon was almost camouflaged against it — his black leather jacket also speckled with white light. He held out that helmet, as if it were an invitation he was waiting for you to accept.

But he seemed shy — as though acutely aware that it was only an invite, and nothing more. So, you took it, and shook your head as you realised that it wasn't his spare helmet he had offered you; it was his only helmet.

"Said I'd take ya," he murmured, fastening the strap gently under your chin.

It was too big, so the man compensated by tying it tighter until you felt like your jaw was wired shut. But, you just smiled.

"An' I ain't no liar," he said when he was done, and kicked his leg over the bike.

Then, you sped off into the night.

You yelled over the sound of the engine for him to go faster, and laughed as you had to spit out the stray hairs that had blown into your mouth. Your clothes whipped in the wind, too, and you clung to the man in front of you as though you were afraid they might catch the draft, and make you fly away. It was electrifying; your whole body felt like pure static as you rode past shop displays and windows that made your reflections look like hazed blurs.

That whole trip felt like a hazed blur, really, because suddenly you were there.

"Where are we?" you asked, unsure of where 'there' even was. "Why'd we stop?"

You pulled the helmet from your head and cocked your leg over the bike. The man let out a chuckle at the sight of your hair, sticking up from the static — as though lightning might strike at any moment.

"Smoke break," Dixon grumbled, before coaxing out the squashed cardboard packet from his jeans. "You want one?" he asked, offering it to you.

You shook your head; you didn't smoke.

He shrugged in response, cupping his hands to his face to get a flame from his lighter. You left him to it, and turned away from the bike to catch the view.

And what a view it was, indeed.

You hadn't even noticed the sounds of the lapping ocean waves before you saw them. The cliff overlooked the beach below, desolate, with a high tide that drew the shore into you. Your grandmother had told you about this place once, on the phone a few months back as she tried to sell rural Georgia to you.

It wasn't like you were given much of a choice, anyway.

But now that you'd been shipped out here — against your will, no doubt — you had to admit that she'd been partly right. It was breath-taking. Back in the city, a place like this would be littered with beer cans and tacky, disposable barbeques within a week of someone posting about it online. Here, however, it looked untouched.

It was as though the two of you were the first to ever set foot here, on this particular crag that overlooked the waves — leaving your footprints alongside tyre treads for the next pioneers to discover.

You glanced back at Dixon over your shoulder — who was busy trying to look as though he wasn't already looking at you — and smiled.

He was one hell of a welcome committee.

Daryl almost choked on the fumes of his cigarette — letting out a cough that reminded him of the way old man Dean spluttered in the mornings. He really needed to kick that habit, he thought, and snubbed out his cigarette on the ground.

Then, you scowled at him, so he picked the butt back up and stuffed it into his pocket, grimacing at the thought of having to clean it up later.

He had been lying about the smoke break, really, but then he needed to carry out his excuse. Initially, he'd only thought about picking you up from the bar and offering you a ride back to the shop. He hadn't the slightest clue of how that plan had become this.

Somewhere along the way, Daryl might have accidentally taken a wrong turn, and ended up in the most scenic place he would think of. Stupid damn street signs, he cursed, as though he hadn't driven those roads a hundred times before.

Camaro seemed to call him out on his bluff, too, since she turned to face him and immediately shook her head.

"You're lying," she said, as though she were certain, "but the view is extraordinary, so I'll forgive you just this once."

Daryl swallowed thickly, tasting the tobacco that had made his throat so dry. For someone who claimed himself not to be a liar, that was all he seemed to be doing today.

Then, he watched you make your way towards the edge of that cliff, like you couldn't even hear him warning you to be careful. It was like you weren't paying him the slightest attention. Daryl was used to that from women — but somehow, this was different.

You didn't look down on him, nor at him with any hint of prejudice for wearing jeans still coated in oil, and boots he'd had to tape the soles of just to keep them together. In fact, you weren't looking at him at all. You seemed far more concerned with the stars that flickered in the night sky above you, but at the same time grateful towards the man for having brought you to them.

"You treat all your customers like this, Dixon?" you asked him.

He watched you turn around and look at him like you'd only just remembered that he was there. But, then you beamed a smile at him so bright that it put the stars to shame — and made all of your other ones look dim in comparison.

"Y'ain't special," he grumbled, shaking his head. "Jus' given' ya a lift home 'cos Dean told me to."

Though, Dean had left the shop hours ago.

Daryl watched you laugh like you'd caught him out one more time.

"There you go again," you said, teasingly. "Do you ever tell the truth?"

No, he didn't. He always tried to, but oftentimes it never did him any good. The people of this town had already made the assumption that he was a natural born liar. You were the first person to ever make the distinction between his white lies and those other types.

All his life, Daryl had been pigeon-holed into the role of good for nothing redneck, and had only recently graduated to the slightly less stereotyped town mechanic. But that night it was as if someone, for the first time, tried to get a peek at whatever was underneath.

Old man Dean was right. You were trouble — but not for the reason he had said. You were trouble because you seemed entirely unaware of your place in the world, and it made Daryl start to question his own. You seemed nice — perhaps even lovely — but Daryl never trusted those types. He knew you were far too good to be wasting away the early hours of the morning with the likes of him — and it left him wondering what exactly you wanted.

You'd already paid for his services, after all.

"Thank you for letting me see the stars again," you breathed, stretching your neck which ached from staring at the sky. "It's been a while."

Back then, Daryl didn't quite understand what that meant. He'd thought perhaps that you'd been talking about city pollution.

On the way back, Daryl felt you cling onto him tightly as he drove through empty roads, and passed the old, flickering street lights that blinked like camera flashes. But, when his fingers accidentally brushed up against yours, as you both reached for the shop door, you pulled your hand away.

It had only been a random Tuesday — that had eventually rolled into a Wednesday by the time he'd gotten you back into your repaired Camaro — but that was the moment in his life where Daryl felt like he had finally woken up.

But even awake, he often found himself lost in daydreams of the woman who crash landed into his life, and disappeared from it just as quickly as she came.

Daryl followed the trail of debris that had fallen from the sky, as though he were tracking some giant, metal bird. He didn't want to stick around too long, given that the noise had probably attracted every damn walker in the area; he just hoped that he was still far enough away from camp that they wouldn't be drawn there.

He stepped over the hunks of hot wreckage, some of it still ablaze, until he eventually came across something soft and not made of metal.

It was that jaeger. It was dead.

It looked as though it had been struck straight out of the sky. Its feathers lay scattered around it — the white breast now red with blood — and its wing was bent at a crooked angle, broken.

Daryl scowled. If he'd known that it was going to have such a meaningless death, then he would have shot it himself. Though, he still didn't add the bird to his string of dead animals; he thought that it had suffered enough.

He continued onwards through the brush until he stumbled across what he'd been looking for. But even as he saw it with his own eyes, Daryl couldn't quite believe it. Before him was the husk of a downed helicopter, burning in the middle of the forest.

Immediately, he ran to it, tripping over the wreckage as it got thicker and harder to navigate.

Though, there was no pilot inside — only radios and machinery parts that Daryl didn't know the names of. They screeched high frequency sounds as they caught on fire, and it made his ears ring the longer he listened.

So, he turned back.

That was when he saw it — them — a few meters away. His stomach dropped. Guess that's the pilot, he thought, looking up at the body tangled in the trees.

He'd never seen a parachute in real life before — only ever in the movies. He'd also never understood how that flimsy material could stop someone from plummeting to their death.

Well, in this case it hadn't.

The pilot was dangling from one of the branches, all caught up in those wire cables like a fish on a line. The limbs were contorted awkwardly, and Daryl swallowed thickly at the sight of their arm which had definitely been broken — reminding him of that miserable jaeger's wing.

He'd been all but ready to turn around and leave. The smell of burning rubber and the white noise from those radios would probably keep him up for the next few nights, but there was nothing he could do about that.

He'd been all but ready to turn around and leave, but then the body spoke to him.

"Dixon?" he heard it gasp.

And Daryl wondered just how many impossible things he might encounter today.

The voice startled him, and he almost stumbled over his own foot in return. Walkers couldn't speak, and they surely wouldn't know his name, either. Then, he caught the slightest movement, and recognised a jacket much too familiar. It had been his, after all, before he'd given it to you.

The pilot groaned, and Daryl recognised that tone of voice, too. He quickly fumbled about for his pocket knife, not even stopping to consider how the hell he'd be able to cut you down.

He couldn't even comprehend how you were alive-

"How's it hanging?" the voice spluttered.

-and how you'd kept that same god awful sense of humour.

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A/N I’ve tried so hard to post this, sorry for all the technical difficulties...

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #twd #twd fanfiction #twd imagines #twd fanfic #the walking dead #the walking dead imagines #the walking dead fanfiction #twd daryl #daryl x reader #daryl x you #daryl x oc #daryl dixon x oc

[peach-coke]

PEACHY!! I just finished the final. How u doing? What do you think?

Hey Sol! Sorry for leaving you hanging with an answer for a couple days but I had to process. And mourn, after all I said goodbye to something that has been part of me for 15 years. That's half my life. It's weird and I don't think I've ever cried as much as I have in the past 3 days but... Well. Luckily, they're happy tears. "Don't cry because it's over, cry because it happened" aside? I love the ending.

It's all I could've ever asked for. Ah, who am I kidding? It's more than that. I was prepared to be gutted in a really bad way. I am gutted but for all the right reasons. It was tragic. It was painful. It was beautiful. But most of all? It was a Love-Letter.

I know there’s a lot of people who’re upset about parts of the episode; I understand. We’re all grieving in our own ways. I hope however, that once the dust has settled and feelings stop spiking into extremes, people will realize that the episode left so many things unsaid and ambiguous... Meaning there's lots and lots of space for interpretation and headcanons to “fix” the finale into something that makes it better for you. And I’d like to think this was done on purpose.

I’m soo sorry I end up rambling on one of your asks again Sol, but I’ll do exactly that to pick up some of the things I’ve seen people be most upset about and give some of my perspective on them. Maybe it’ll help some people to feel better and grow to love the final as much as I do ♥

One thing I’ve seen a lot of people be upset about is that Dean didn’t get to live the life they’ve fought for so hard. Actually? We don’t know that. There is no timestamps, no indicators that tell us they didn’t do what we saw in the first domestic montage for a couple years. The only hint we have is that Miracle is still around and kicking, so it couldn’t have been more than maybe 6 years (because 6-8ish is when a dog that size shows clears signs of aging). Besides that? Nobody and nothing stops us in believing they had that “domestic bliss with a little bit of hunting on the side”-life for quite a while before it happened.

Them talking about mourning Cas and Jack is no indicator either. I still mourn people I lost 15 years ago, when the occasion calls for it or I remember them in moments that they would’ve loved to be part of. Mourning never stops… Of course, even 6 years aren’t a lifetime. But do we really think Dean - our Dean - would’ve been happy and content with a 9-to-5 job? Yeah, didn’t think so either...

Then, we have the rebar. Which honestly didn’t bother me at all, for several reasons. First, I love parallels and this episode was so full of them… Not only was the whole “stabbed in the back” thing a direct callback to arguably the most painful death in the series to date – Sam’s first in All Hell Breaks Loose – it was also a callback to The Song Remains the Same. The episode where Sam is stabbed by Anna – with a rebar/fixture she ripped out of the wall - and bleeds out on the floor. The only reason he got out of it alive, is because John!Michael fixed him. Otherwise? He would’ve died by being stabbed with a rebar. Just like that.

Ash himself told them that they died several times together and can’t remember because the angels don’t want them to. We, the viewers, have never seen them die together until Dark Side Of The Moon. Which strongly implies that they must’ve died on random hunts. More than once.

So Dean’s death in the barn? That’s what happens to Hunters who have no divine intervention. That’s what happens to Hunters who are living the life without being chosen for something bigger. That’s what happens to Hunters with free will. Dean’s death in the barn was a true Hunter’s death. The one he always wanted. There’s no glory, there’s nothing special about it. It just is. And I thought that was tragically poetic in its own way.

I know people were expecting them to go out Butch and Sundance style. Together – I admittedly wanted that too. But the way Dean’s death happened didn’t bother me at all. And honestly? Sam’s soul died in that barn, too. We know it did. So they did go out together, one way or another. It was just not the way we expected.

The cinematic parallels of Sam’s life without Dean to Dean’s life without Sam after Swan Song honestly floored me. It was beautifully heartbreaking.

We see Sam living his life while Dean is driving along “right there beside him, every step of the way”. We see him holding on for Dean, fulfilling the promise he made to his brother about living on. Making sure there’s always a Winchester that knows love left in the world. The final sacrifice of Sam, the bravest and strongest man we know. Sam, who sits down in the car he once called home, to be close to the one person that always held the same connotation. Sam, who knows his other half is waiting for him, sitting just there in the same spot he is. Every step of the way. That’s my Supernatural right there.

What I especially like about the whole thing is, that it once again leaves us with another take besides the one we actually saw and thought obvious. We can also pretend Sam died on that werewolf hunt, shortly after Dean’s death. There is nothing that stops you from seeing this as canon, (There’s actually quite a few hints that it’s a very strong possibility), because the way the whole scene played out could’ve easily been a daydream of Dean while he was driving in heaven.

The fact they left it open like that is a gift, in my eyes. They could’ve easily forced a fixed narrative on us. But they didn’t. Same with so many other things. They left us with so many possibilities and room for our own takes. And I think it’s fair that people need time to process what we’ve been given here. It’s fair that people are still upset about some aspects, because they have yet to realize that there is a pathway for them to see it differently, without discarding canon at all.

There’s only one thing that is not open for interpretation. And that’s that Sam and Dean love each other as much as two human beings can love each other. And none of them is complete without the other. I never quite understood why some people needed the show to end on romantic notes. Supernatural has never been about that. It has always been about the deep, abiding love those two brothers had for each other and how neither heaven nor hell ever stood a chance against it. Platonic love is just as beautiful as romantic love; sometimes even more so. And that’s what this finale showed us.

And that’s why I love it so much. Why I say it’s a Love-Letter. It’s a Love-Letter to us; The ones who’ve been there all the way from the start. The ones who’ve seen the show for what it is and what it has always been: The epic love story of Sam and Dean Winchester.

Despite all that, it is still valid to dislike the ending. You are entitled to do so. But if you really think Sam and Dean - two soulmates, surrounded by the people they love, at peace - spending the rest of eternity together in heaven is the absolute worst possible ending that destroyed everything the show ever stood for? I’m sorry, but in that case you did not understand Supernatural at all.

#Asks and Requests #Sent in by solisoccasus #SPN Spoilers #SPN Finale Positive #Sam and Dean are Soulmates #and y'all can take that from my cold dead hands