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thelibrarylesstrektraveled · 1 year

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Practically Magic Chapter Four: Cinderella

Summary: Growing up in the same tiny mountain town, Y/N Owens and Dean Winchester despised each other. The only thing they ever agreed on was their need to escape. Life took them in opposite directions and neither of them ever looked back. So, when their paths cross over a series of gruesome murders in their hometown it was no surprise that old friction heated up again.

Dean never dreamed he’d be teaming up with a psychic, the FBI frowned on that sort of thing, but he was desperate. When that psychic turned out to be Y/N Owens, Dean knew two things for sure. One, Y/N was the real deal and two, he was in real trouble.

Pairing: Agent!Dean x Psychic!Reader, Dean x Reader, AU Dean x You Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, John Winchester, Bobby Singer

Warnings: Slow Burn, Serial Killer Elements, Witches, Haters to Lovers, Claustrophobic Elements, Murder Scenes

Author’s Notes: This is an AU taking elements from the film Practical Magic and applying them to a fictional world where Dean Winchester is an FBI Agent. You will find parallels from that movie here, some quotes and other elements that capture the essence of the world of the Owens Witches. Hopefully! Additional Author’s Notes: This is a unique reader insert story as I have given the reader a physical description including hair color, eye color and body type. Chapter Four: Cinderella Word Count: 3372

Masterlist

Practically Magic Masterlist

“You’d think after 300 years they’d come up with a better line” – Sally Owens, Practical Magic

Dean sat in his car outside of the Compendium for a full twenty minutes trying to figure out what he was going to say. He hadn’t expected to see you there, standing in the middle of that crime scene. Performing a reading, of all things! You’d gotten better at it, of course you had. It was in your blood. You’d grown into yourself. All of that shining, raw potential of the child was now sharply focused in the woman you’d become. It caught him off guard and he reacted out of instinct. Get you out of there and away from him as quickly as possible.

“What the hell’s the matter with you, Dean?!”

“With me? What the hell were you thinking, bringing her here?! This is no place for a civilian, Sam.”

“Y/N is not just a civilian. We’re running out of time and options, we need help.”

“Help? From the friendly neighborhood witch?”

Sam rolled his eyes, “Come on Dean, she’s the real deal and you know it. Everyone in this town knows it”

“That doesn’t make her qualified to assist in a murder investigation.”

“No, but she’s our friend. If she can help, she will. That’s just how she is.”

Dean could only shake his head at his baby brother. How can someone that damned tall be so short sighted?

“Some friend you are. This case is as ugly as they come. You and I, we’re trained to deal with the rough stuff, and we still have a hard time with it. How the hell is a regular person supposed to deal with it?”

Sam could only nod, he hadn’t thought of that.

“And yeah, Y/N is the real deal. You know how sensitive that psychic stuff makes her,” Dean said with a sigh. “This isn’t safe for anyone, but especially not for her.”

“Fair point,” Sam admitted. “But there are better ways of keeping her safe than going after her like that.”

“Old habits,” Dean replied.

“Make some new ones, starting with an apology. She won’t just let this go; you know how she is.”

Sam was right, Dean knew exactly how you were. Stubborn, just like him. Wasn’t that always the problem? Dean reluctantly cut the engine and got out of the car. Dragging his feet wasn’t going to make this any easier.

The Compendium was nearly back in order when Dean opened the door. An impressive feat considering the state it was in after the party. He was exactly three feet into the store when a low growl sounded, stopping him in his tracks. A huge white dog stepped out from behind a bookcase, barring its teeth, the thick fur along its spine standing on end. Dean held up his hands in a gesture of surrender, hoping the dog would see it that way.

“Dean Winchester. Is it arrogance or plain stupidity that brings you to my door?”

“You know me Viv, always the latter.”

Vivienne Owens climbed down the ladder propped up against the shelves, a bundle of smoldering sage in her hand. She arched an unimpressed brow at him, “This place was in tatters after you boys rummaged though everything. It will take me a week of Sundays to cleanse it properly.”

“Send the bill care of Uncle Sam.”

She didn’t give an inch. A thin plume of white smoke spiraled up from the sage to circle around them. Viv’s ever present black cat hissed from its perch on the upper level and Dean felt very outnumbered.

He dropped his gaze, “Sorry.”

“You certainly are.”

“I come in peace. I just want to apologize,” Dean said, appealing to the older witch. “Viv, please. I owe her that.”

“You owe her far more, but that’s a start.”

Vivienne had the same dark eyes, you did. Those huge, fathomless, gypsy eyes. Ones that saw into the very soul of a man. But hers never held the warmth yours did, at least not for Dean. Her eyes were cold and carried suspicion and warning.

“I’m only going to say this once; you hurt her and in the immortal words of the great Dolly Parton… I’ll turn you from a rooster to a hen with one shot.”

Dean couldn’t help but swallow nervously. A woman like Viv didn’t offer idle threats, especially when it came to her treasured granddaughter.

“Noted.”

You knew it was Dean by the sharp scent of his cologne. He always smelled good, even as a kid. It was one of things about him that fascinated you when you were growing up. You loved him straight away, how could you not? His smart mouth and gruff exterior hid a boy you knew to be truly kind and compassionate. He played up the bad boy image to everyone in Silverton, but with you he was soft. He was your protector. Sam was your partner in crime, but Dean was the one who made sure you were safe. You trusted him with your life. Funny how things can change so quickly and so completely.

“I had no idea this room was back here.”

“What you don’t know could fill a book.”

You didn’t bother to turn, instead keeping your eyes on the fire blazing in the brick fireplace. Your frozen feet were propped up on a leather footstool in an effort to regain feeling in them. In hindsight, walking all the way from that house to the Compendium in your stockings was not your brightest move, but you’d been too pissed off to think straight. Even now, cocooned in a thick, wool blanket you were still shaking. Part of you knew it wasn’t just the cold, but the horrific scene that had you chilled to the bone.

“Do you always wander around without your shoes and coat? Or only when it’s below freezing?”

“It was more important to leave than to stop and fetch them.”

“Stubborn,” Dean muttered, dropping your forgotten items in the wingback chair opposite you.

“Me?! I’m the stubborn one?!” Your eyes snapped up to look at him, temper flaring. He had the audacity to smile, just a quirk of the corner of the mouth. Irritated beyond measure, you tugged the blanket closer and looked back to the fire.

“Thanks for returning them, you can see your way out.”

You’d dismissed him like a queen banishing a servant from the realm. He knew you weren’t going to make this easy. “Damn it, Y/N. I’m trying to apologize!”

“Well, don’t let me stop you. You’re doing a fantastic job.”

Dean watched the flickering glow of the fire dance across your face. It was fascinating to see the familiar expressions of the girl he knew reflected back at him in the face of a beautiful woman.

God, why does everything have to be so damn complicated?

“I’m sorry,” he said at last. “I didn’t expect to see you there.”

“At the house or at the party?” you asked softly. When he didn’t reply right away, you did instead, “I didn’t expect you either. Maybe I should get a magic eight ball.”

“You used to laugh when I called you that.”

“That was when you meant it as a joke. You weren’t joking today.”

“No, I suppose not.” Dean sat on the footstool so he could face you. It was low to the ground, causing him to draw his knees up so his long legs would fit in the small space. He always was taller than you, now even more so. Life was unfair.

“I’m sorry about what I said, you didn’t deserve it. I’ve been working on this case for a very long time, my temper’s short and I took it out on you. I had to get you away from that house. It’s not safe for someone who hasn’t been trained for it.”

You could see him then, your Dean. The one from all those years ago. The Dean who would coming running when you called. The Dean who vowed to protect you from anything.

“We should have dinner.”

Dean blinked in confusion, “Pardon?”

It was your turn to smile, you always enjoyed baffling him. “The three of us; you, me, and Sam. If we are going to work together, we need to improve our communication skills.”

“We’re not working together, Sweetheart.”

“Yes, we are.”

He matched your infuriating smile with a fierce frown, “I don’t want you getting mixed up in this.”

“I already am. I’ve tapped into it now; it won’t leave me until it’s complete.”

“If you had an ounce of sense in that head of yours, you’d leave and never look back.”

You searched out his gaze, those stunning green eyes looked so much older than his thirty-six years. Things between you had ended badly, but that was years ago. And it didn’t erase all the good that had come before.

“Tried that. Just ended up right back where I started.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“Dinner,” you said again. “Tomorrow night, seven o’clock. Your treat.”

Dean knew a challenge when he heard one. This was the sexy, confident woman he’d met on Halloween, throwing down the gauntlet. He may not be a magic welding Owens, but he still had a few moves of his own.

He took your feet and settled them on his lap while he reached for your shoes he left in the chair. His touch was warm. The heat that radiated from him finally banished the cold you’d felt since leaving that house. He gently slid each shoe back on the corresponding foot, his actions deliberate and somehow very intimate.

“Try not to lose them this time, Cinderella.”

You tried to focus on his words instead of his hands resting on your ankles.

Good lord, look at those hands! Were they always so big? Christ. I wish he’d move them a little higher…

“Cinderella only lost one shoe, not two.”

He ran his thumb back and forth over your ankle bone while a grin slowly spread over his face. “Keep ‘em on, Princess. Don’t want you losing any valuable parts to frostbite.”

In one smooth motion, Dean got to his feet and started to stand. His hands braced on the arms of your chair, his face coming within a few inches of yours. His mouth only a breath away. He paused in that position, his eyes looked deeply into yours and you were caught. Your heart sped up and heated your cheeks as you wondered if he was going to kiss you.

He watched with great satisfaction as your pupils grew wide. Your gaze flickered down to his mouth just for a second before snapping back up. Witch or not, you were still a woman. And Dean had always been a big fan. He found it incredibly encouraging that he could get that kind of reaction out of you even under the circumstances. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Dean stood the rest of the way, feeling smug. “See you tomorrow, Y/N.”

“Y… yeah, tomorrow,” you managed to echo as he walked out the door.

Viv’s cat found it’s way to your lap, he must have snuck in when Dean left. You buried your fingers in it’s fur while you contemplated the flames. When you were little, your Gran would tell you stories of ancestors who could read the future in fire. You even managed to do it a time or two, but it was a volatile method. Naturally, it would be. Visions would come, but without context making the information unsettling and essentially useless. If that was what seers in the past used, no wonder everyone thought they were crazy. You made up your mind a long time ago, to be better.

But you couldn’t see what was coming, for you or for Dean. Which meant you had to go in blind. Just like everyone else. Just like a normal person.

“Fuck.”

June 5th, 2002

“Witch, witch, you’re a bitch! Witch, witch, you’re a bitch! Witch, witch, you’re a bitch!”

Dean was in the middle of changing the oil when he heard the chanting. It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d heard it. Ever since that damned movie came out a few years back, the local kids latched on to it like it was the song of the summer. It had been nearly a year since he’d heard it, which meant only one thing.

He threw down the oily rag he used to wipe his hands and took off running.

“Witch, witch, you’re a bitch! Witch, witch, you’re a bitch! Witch, witch, you’re a bitch!”

There was a group of five kids, all chanting around a massive oak tree. Throwing rocks and sticks up into the canopy of green leaves. Dean recognized them, a couple of them were from his brother’s class, the rest were closer to his age. Bullies and troublemakers.

“Hey, what the hell are you doing?!”

The tallest boy, looked at Dean and sneered, “What’s it to you?”

Dean looked past the kid and saw a familiar purple sneaker laying at the base of the trunk. Purple, with matching tie-dyed laces. He didn’t need any further confirmation; he was there the day you and Sam experimented with the technique for an art project. Purple always was your favorite color.

“Listen up, asshat. You’re going to take your little buddies and get the hell out of here.”

“Or what?” another boy challenged.

“Or I break your scuzzy face and you leave anyway.”

“Come on, Winchester. We’re just having a little fun,” the teenager from Dean’s class said, tossing and catching the lemon sized rock in his hand. “Besides, it doesn’t hurt ‘em. Everybody knows witches don’t feel anything.”

He chucked the rock into the tree and a pained yelp sounded as it found its target. He laughed and Dean saw red. He punched him square in the face, deeply satisfied with the sound of knuckles connecting with cartilage.

“Fuck!” The kid staggered back and held his face, blood spurting from between his fingers. “You broke my fucking nose!”

“Stick around,” Dean drawled. “I’ll break something else.”

That was all encouragement the boys needed. They scattered and ran back over the hill towards town, chanting their irritating little song the whole way.

Dean picked up the discarded shoe and looked up through the branches and saw your shadow towards the top. “Y/N?”

“Dean?”

“You can come down now, it’s safe. I sent those douchebags packing.”

He watched you nimbly climb down the branches, which was impressive since you weren’t the most athletic kid. Amazing how motivating being hunted down could make a person. When you got close enough, he held out his hands and helped you hop down to the ground.

Looking you over, he saw red all over again. You had dirt and scratches all over your arms and legs, the deeper cuts still bleeding. Long pieces of your hair had come loose from your braid and were sticking to your sweaty face. Your big, brown eyes were rimmed red from crying and your bottom lip was split open.

Dean took your chin in his hand; his thumb barely grazed the cut. You winced and looked down, tears welling in your eyes.

“It’s okay, Dean.”

“I’m going to kill ‘em.” Dean growled, releasing you. “Seriously, an ass kicking it too good for those dicks.”

You rubbed your bicep where that last rock had hit you. It hurt like hell, probably bruised all the way to the bone. You were worried about what your Gran would say when she got a good look at you. She always warned you to stick to the main road, not take short cuts. This is obviously why.

“It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have gone that way. Should have paid attention to where I was going.”

“Hey. This is all on them, you hear me? None of this is your fault.”

You only nodded, looking down at your sock covered feet. Dean picked up your discarded shoe and looked around for its mate.

“Where’s the other one?”

“Um… I lost it over in Settlers Field.”

“Okay, let’s get you cleaned up.” He surprised you by turning his back to you and crouching down, “Hop on, Pipsqueak.”

“You can’t carry me, Dean. I’m too heavy!”

“I carried Sam’s sorry ass all the way down the North Trail when he twisted his ankle last summer and he’s a freaking moose. I don’t want you wandering around missing a shoe.”

He looked over his shoulder at you and winked, “Come on, Cinderella. I’ve got, ya.”

You grinned back, in spite of yourself and climbed onto Dean’s back. He hooked his arms around your legs and stood with ease. Even bounced a couple of times to get a giggle from you before he headed back home.

You rested your chin on Dean’s shoulder while he carried you comfortably on his back, making easy strides through the tall grass. After a few minutes you began to relax. It was a really nice day, sunny and warm.

You hadn’t spent much one on one time with the older Winchester, but you knew Sam worshiped him. It was easy to see why, Dean was the embodiment of cool. He was older than the two of you by five years. Every time you saw him, he was in that beat-up leather jacket, listening to classic rock. And he had that intensity burning just under the surface.

“You must be missing Sammy, huh?”

“A little,” you breathed, then corrected yourself. “A lot. He called last night and said he was having fun though.”

“Only Sam would have fun at summer camp for math geeks.” Dean said, walking through the opened bay door of the garage. “What about you? I heard you got first place for that story you wrote. Shouldn’t you be at camp for writing geeks?”

Dean set you down on the long bench along the back wall and grabbed a few supplies from the first aid cabinet.

“There isn’t a writer’s camp. But there’s a conference in Denver next month. Gran says I can go if I want to.”

Dean dabbed disinfectant over the scrapes on your legs, “You don’t want to?”

You shook your head.

“Why not?”

“My story’s not good enough to present in a place like that.”

“Your teacher thought so, and you did get first place.”

“You didn’t read the other stories.”

Dean snorted in laughter, and you smiled. “Besides, that story was just for an assignment. I can do better.”

“I’ll bet you can.” He replied, fetching an ice pack from the beat-up fridge in the corner. He wrapped it in a clean cloth and held it against your swollen lip.

“Well Pipsqueak, you can hang out with me whenever you like. But you gotta pull your own weight.”

“Okay,” you agreed, if out of curiosity alone. “Doing what?”

Dean waggled his eyebrows and pulled the gray tarp off one of the cars. “Welcome to Dean Winchester’s Summer Camp for Grease Monkeys!”

You recognized it; Sam showed it to you one time. The Impala.

You stepped forward, running your hand over the rough frame, “You’ve been fixing up your dad’s car?”

“My car,” Dean said, pride ringing in his voice. “Gave it to me last year when I turned sixteen.”

Your fingers followed the line of the window as images came to you. Happier times when John Winchester was a young man, taking his pretty blonde girlfriend to the drive-in movies. Mary, the boys’ mother. It had been a junker back then, John always intended to get the car in mint condition. Never really got around to it.

“She likes you.”

“Yeah?”

“You gave her a name.”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a little embarrassed. “Yeah. Baby.”

You leaned in the opening where the driver’s side window would eventually be. You could see how she looked the day she rolled off the line. Shiny and new. Polished chrome, black vinyl seats. In a flash, you saw Dean there. His elbow resting on the opened window, his right hand on the wheel. Wind in his hair, his music blasting.

“Baby.” You repeated. “Baby is perfect.”

#dean x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #jensen ackles #jensen x reader #jensen x y/n #spn fic #supernatural #agent!dean x psychic!reader #Practically Magic

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world-cinema-research · 1 year

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Week 3 World Cinema Research Blog - by Natalyn Wakeling

Five Easy Pieces - 1970

The film I chose to watch for week 3 is Five Easy Pieces, by Bob Rafelson. This film caught my eye from the trailer and dossier because I was interested in why main character "Bobby", wanted to abandon his upper class life as a musician to go live a working class life elsewhere. One thing about this film that made it striking to critics and viewers of this time was Jack Nicholson's ability to act, and the way his behavior throughout the film sets the tone.

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Rafelson directed this film which was released in 1970, and the budget was 1.6 million dollars. It generated about 18,000,000 in Box Office, making this movie a commercial success. This is a much larger profit than the other films I have researched at this point. I think this film was able to bring in this big of a profit because for one, it wasn't very expensive to produce. There wasn't a lot of action, locations, and scenery in this film, which the budget accounts for. I think they were able to do 18 million on profit because the movie does have a very famous actor, Jack Nicholson.

The only comparable item I really had going into watching this film was Jack Nicholson's acting from another film I had watched, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. I assumed that the character he portrayed in Five Easy Pieces would somewhat resemble his role in the film I had watched prior. In some ways it did. His ability to lack basic human sympathy and make compulsive decisions was very well displayed in both roles, however, the plot lines were completely different. This film was one of Jack Nicholson's most iconic, career building demonstrations of his ability to act, and people cite Five Easy Pieces as the film that shows his acting to his full potential.

Critically, this film received very good reviews from very well known film critics like Roger Ebert. He described Nicholson this way: "Jack the lad, the outsider, capable of anger, sarcasm, self-pity, also capable of tenderness and grief, ready for violence but not very good at it". Here Ebert is shedding light on Nicholson's ability to demonstrate the range of so many different emotions and demeanors in one character. Ebert overall rated this film 4 stars, which is much higher than the ratings he has given to the other films I have researched. Something else that Ebert said that also resonated with me was the films ability to have a twisted, unexpected ending, that makes the viewer reflect on life after. Ebert said more American films to follow took note of this movies ability to have a "plot free to surprise us about the characters, into an existential ending not required to be happy." A large sum of people who watched this movie at the time of the release would agree with Ebert. They admired the movies raw plot and acting abilities.

Looking at the political, economic, and social climate of the time the film was released is also important when it comes to viewing the film in its entirety. I think one of the most important factors that had an influence on this movie, historically, was the emphasis of the working class in America. "American made" labels were becoming very popular around this time period, and tariffs were being put on imports from foreign countries to encourage more American production. (Link to 1970 timeline) It just so happens that part of this films story line is Bobby retreating from his upper class family of musical geniuses to go from place to place working. “I move around a lot, not because I'm looking for anything really, but 'cause I'm getting away from things that get bad if I stay.” This is something Bobby says to his father at the end of the film, in sort of an apologetic excuse for his leaving the family for 3 years. It also sheds some light on his characters inability to ever be satisfied for long in one place.

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Above is an interview with Nicholson many years after the release of this film. It's him along with others involved in the making of the film, and their different takes on what they wanted to do with certain scenes, and how they wanted the character to be ultimately portrayed. This interview plays into the critical reception of this film because a big debate among the creators of the film and viewers was if Nicholson's character should have really broken down and showed emotion at the end. Nicholson himself argued that it was out of character for this scene to take place, but a lot of the viewers and the director both agreed it created more range and depth to see the underbelly of Robby after seeing his stone cold countenance throughout the entire film.

Five Easy Pieces is categorized as a drama film, which I agree there is elements of drama, but I see it more as a film focusing on human behavior. Nicholson's many levels of acting give this film a feeling of many different styles. He has his working class story line, his waitress girlfriend, his many affairs, and family life that all come together to create a sort of chaotic feel in main character Bobby's storyline. You can see some moments of self reflection throughout the film, especially in the ending scene when Bobby is physically looking at himself in the mirror and comes to the decision to abandon his girlfriend Rayette.

A line in the film that stands out to me is when he is when Bobby is confessing his love to Catherine, and she says to him “You're a strange person, Robert. I mean, what will you come to? If a person has no love for himself, no respect for himself, no love of his friends, family, work, something—how can he ask for love in return? I mean, why should he ask for it?” In this scene Kathy was really able to read into the interworking of his mind, and come to the sad realization that if he himself can never be satisfied, how is he ever to satisfy anyone else? I think he comes to an epiphany about his life and character at this point too, which leads to him ultimately abandoning Rayette. I think the main thing that stands out in this film is Jack Nicholson's acting range, and it is what the film is widely accredited for.

I would label this film as conventional. It has two very standout actors of this time, and was marketed to be a commercial success. It did exactly that with its very large profit. Being a drama, it is one of the most profitable genres of film, and definitely received a lot of critical attention after its release. The storyline is not anything outstanding in film, it is the behavior acting and ending of the film that make it standout from anything else during its time. There are some plot lines of the story that feel sort of loose if not looked into too deeply, for example, the ladies that joined their car ride up home. However, it ultimately does not affect the plot enough for it to leave viewers confused or unclear on what to gather from the film. As I said the storyline isn't anything spectacular or new, but the behavioral range throughout the film was never before seen, and is what made this film standout enough to receive so much attention.

All in all, Five Easy Pieces was a remarkable film for its time. Nicholson's acting abilities and the film makers' ability to take a simpler storyline and make it existential in the end was amazing. The movie was a commercial and critical success for a reason, and I hope to see reflections of this film in more films I watch from now on.

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trektraveler · 2 years

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Practically Magic Chapter Four: Cinderella