#but then later dean is like ‘one thing i learned from dad is that no matter what kind of shapeshifter it is there’s one sure way to kill it’

[dollhousemary]

you really can’t think about the winchesters’ hunting history for more than like 10 seconds without it all falling apart. john raised them as hunters for nearly two decades and they never encountered a single vampire or shifter or half a dozen other creatures that they regularly bump into later??

#ivy.txt #skin in itself is a confusing episode like. #they’re piecing together what they think happened and dean suggests something that can change its form and sam says #‘a shifter?’ like it’s an entirely new concept and dean says ‘hey every culture has its shapeshifter lore’ or smth to that effect #which. to me implies that they and/or john have never personally encountered one #because otherwise! i assume they would’ve thought of it as a possibility earlier! #but then later dean is like ‘one thing i learned from dad is that no matter what kind of shapeshifter it is there’s one sure way to kill it’ #like ??? hello #edit: also are there ever different kinds of shifters later? i genuinely can’t remember

[wellofdean]

OK, I was going to reblog this excellent post by @luckshiptoshore so go read it, because yes. Yes!! YES!!! But then when I got started my post got super long and I felt bad tacking it onto her post and decided to make my own in response to these tags:

#i am actually a bit obsessed by the whole hunting as queerness metaphor#it’s so clearly something everyone involved in the show is thinking about#supernatural

Gurl, me too! Like go back to the start! By the time Supernatural began, the backlash against the Joseph Campbell Monomyth-style mode of storytelling had already begun in the hallowed halls of USC film school, and yo: I was there at the time of Kripke's graduation, and my best friends from college are full scale big giant time filmmakers now, whose names I will not share on main because it's uncool, and I don't want that attention, but... yeah. I am referencing FIRST HAND SOURCES on this.

But, for a real source? The Oxford English Dictionary places the first use of the term "Queer Theory" in 1990, with Queer Studies as an option in the academy by 1992. I know the kids think it's a new-fangled thing, but Kripke graduated USC in 1996 (I graduated in 1995) and it was ALL THE RAGE by then. My friends read queer theory in their Critical Studies courses in the Film School, I read it in the College of Humanities getting my degree in Literature. By that time, you could not get through that school with any degree in any non-STEM subject without knowing about ye olde postmodern lenses, queer and feminist theory, and without knowing how to employ those lenses.

Queer refers to sexuality, yes, but the word's earliest use (again, according to the OED) is in the 1500's, meaning: strange, odd, peculiar, eccentric. Also: of questionable character; suspicious, dubious.

So, ok, in 2005, Enter Supernatural, episode 1:

Presented? Two brothers. One actively seeking credit in the straight world that is not available to him in the bosom of his family: Stanford, law school, hot co-ed girlfriend, the other bound to his fractured, wounded family by duty, yes, but also by love, living on the fringe, alone, fighting monsters, and chasing after his father's approval, and who has long since given up any dream of being 'normal'. Episode 1 presents Sam's call to adventure, which he refuses when it's just familial duty, honor and love calling him, but accepts when the show takes a very straightforward and very telling path by classically fridging his woman. Ok, now he's on board. Like John, whose motivation is another dead woman, his motivation is revenge. So far so straight!

Dean though: he's different. He is already on the adventure and he was not 'called' or given the option of accepting or refusing because he had no agency when his feet were set upon this road. He does not fit the straight world at all, because he is cobbled together out of love, duty, deep guilt, striving, desperation and fear. This is who he is now, in some elemental, incontrovertible way. It was not a choice for him, he was born to it. His mother is dead, and we later learn, she made the choices that brought them all to this fate. Dean remembers her idyllically, but he is not motivated by revenge, more than any other thing, he wants to be worthy. He wants his father's approval, his brother's love.

Enter Supernatural's main theme: fucked up relationships between men enmeshed in patriarchy, which will eventually expand to include fucking GOD HIMSELF.

And like, there are SO MANY CLEAR STEPS ALONG THE ROAD in season one, and I am not even talking about sexuality and gender here, but there is SO MUCH TO SAY about it in season 1. But I am not talking about that -- I am talking at a structural, narrative level, the whole thing is just fucking all the way queered, yo.

The big climax?

At the end of the season, Dean says: "I just want my family back together. You, me, Dad... it's all I have." He is Sam's mother, John's partner! His vulnerability and emotion is feminized and contrasted with Sam and John's more overtly driven by their more masculine/straight heroic revenge quest. John: "Sam and I can get pretty obsessed, but you always take care of this family." Only that's not John talking, it's Azazel, and Dean knows it is because his father would never forgive how soft he is, how he will always choose love and family over revenge. Then, in the end, the show makes a huge point of telegraphing that Sam is finally aligning with Dean by refusing to shoot Azazel because he's possessing John, and Sam just can't do that to Dean.

Sam and Dean are thus bound together and cemented into a marginalised path, living on the road, haunting liminal spaces and cheap motels, confronting the monstrous everyday. Sam is presented as the brains of the operation, he does research, logics his way through things (masculine) while Dean is the heart who acts impulsively and on instinct and intuition (feminine).

It later transpires that Sam has a piece of the monster inside himself, and Dean has to learn to love the monstrous, he has no choice, because Sam is his brother and then Cas... and, and, and!

Like... I could go on and on, citing ENDLESS EXAMPLES. This could be a literal book. Maybe one you need to read with a magnifying glass like my condensed edition of the OED. LIke, the queerness of Supernatural is DIZZYING and MYRIAD.

But basically? FROM THE START, hunting is a queered version of family, and within that, Dean is a queered version of a Campbellian hero. Hunting is a metaphor for otherness and liminality, and that's even before you say a WORD about sex. It starts in deviation from the norms of family, masculinity and expands from there on so many levels both in story and on a meta level. The story is flesh on queer fucking bones.

I'm so sorry, but anyone who thinks queerness was not BAKED INTO Supernatural and more specifically into Dean from DAY 1 has clearly never seen Dean's insane lip gloss in season 1, and vastly underestimates the cultural awareness of people who write shit in Hollywood, and also the other people who put pink lip gloss on pretty boys in Hollywood. Nothing that gets on your screen wasn't a fucking choice made and approved by a LONG LIST of people who know what they are about.

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #the queerness is baked in from the word go #like...OBVIOUSLY #and transparently

[spnhunter4life]

Familiar

Summary: Sam, Dean and Y/N are on a case, and it turns out Y/N is just the monster's type.

Word Count: 8.2k

Warnings: reference to nonconsensual sex, canon typical violence

A/N: I've had this one done for a couple of weeks, but things have been very busy and so I just finally got around to doing a reread/edit of it. I hope everyone enjoys it!

This one includes the writing prompt "character A flipping positions and shoving B against a wall 'now this seems more familiar doesn’t it?'"

I don't remember where I found this. I have a list of prompts I saved, but didn't include who posted them, so if you happen to know where this came from, let me know and I'll give credit to that person.

Also, I've had someone ask me to be tagged in new stories I post. I am happy to do this, so if anyone else is interested in being tagged, let me know!

Masterlist

I met the Winchesters for the first time five years ago when I was 22. I was in college and had just moved to a new dorm building that turned out to be haunted by a ghost. I had been the next intended target when Dean and his dad stepped in and saved me. That was the last time I would see either of them for a long time, but I never forgot the faces of the people who had saved my life.

After that experience, I was obsessed with the supernatural. Dean and I had talked a little bit before they left town, and he told me about how he and his dad traveled the country killing monsters. I wanted to do that too. I wanted to be able to save people’s lives the way they had saved mine.

So a couple months later I dropped out of school and started getting ready to hunt. I signed up for a gym membership and started going everyday as well as taking boxing and Krav Maga lessons. My life had given very little opportunity for me to build muscle or learn to fight. But I wasn’t stupid enough to go into a fight with a supernaturally strong creature completely unprepared.

I gave myself a year to get in shape and learn to defend myself. During this time, I put every spare minute I had into research. I looked into what kinds of monsters were out there, how to kill them, which ones were most common. While doing all this research, I ran into a man named Bobby Singer. He had all kinds of helpful information and taught me how to track them down. I started the process of purchasing weapons I would need and also saving up money.

Once I felt ready, I set off on my first hunt. The overwhelming satisfaction I felt at saving a person from the ghost that had been haunting them was too much to ignore. I knew without a doubt now that this is what I should be doing with my life. So I went on another hunt. And another. 

Things were a little rough going at first and I got more injuries than I cared to admit – fighting a trained professional in a controlled environment wasn’t the same as going up against an angry monster – but my fighting skills improved and things started going smoother soon enough. I didn’t regret my choices.

I ran into Dean a little over a year later. I was looking into what I suspected to be a witch and had stopped for lunch at a local burger joint when I saw him. I recognized him immediately and went to talk to him. It took a little bit for him to remember me, but he did. When he asked what I was doing so far from home, I told him what I’d been up to since the day he saved my life. He seemed surprised and impressed. Apparently the people he saved didn’t often take up hunting afterwards. 

When I asked after his dad, he told me that they were starting to work separate cases on occasion. They still hunted together too, but not as often. 

Since we were both in town for the same reason, we agreed to work the case together. It was difficult at times, learning to rely on another person and factor their thoughts and opinions into what we were doing. I’d never hunted with someone else before. In other ways, though, it was so much easier. I decided I kind of liked having a partner. Dean and I worked well together.

He must have thought so too, because the day after we finished that hunt, he asked if I wanted to come with him to look into a string of suspicious murders a couple states over. I’d been hunting with him – and occasionally his dad – ever since. 

About nine months into our new arrangement, his dad went missing and so we picked up his brother Sam from school to help find him. Adding him to the mix had been another adjustment. That was two years ago now though, and we’d all found an easy rhythm together.

“We should go check this out,” Dean said, sliding the newspaper he’d been looking at across the table to Sam and pointing at one of the articles.

We were at a diner waiting for our breakfast to be brought out. Sam scanned the article.

“I don’t know, Dean,” Sam said, passing the newspaper to me when I motioned for it. I skimmed the article Dean had found. 

“Come on, Sam. Three murder suicides in under two weeks. That’s weird,” Dean insisted.

“It is weird. I just don’t see how it’s our kind of weird,” Sam answered. 

“Y/N? What do you think? You agree with me, don’t you?” Dean asked, confident I’d back him up. We typically saw things pretty eye to eye. Not always though.

“Well, actually I agree with Sam. There’s nothing here that really makes it sound like our kind of thing. But,” I continued, saying the word a little louder to stop Dean’s protest. “It’s only a few hours away and we have nothing else to do right now. So we might as well go check it out.”

“Alright, fine,” Sam agreed, sighing at the triumphant look on Dean’s face. “But I really think we’re wasting our time.”

“Right. Because we’ve got much more important, productive things going on here,” Dean said sarcastically.

“It’s never a waste of time,” I said. “Even if it ends up being nothing, making sure people aren’t being killed by something supernatural isn’t a waste. What if we decide it’s not worth checking out and it turns out it is our kind of thing? Then those deaths would be on us.”

“Ok, yes, you’re right. I already said we could go check it out,” Sam said.

“Well thanks for the permission, Sammy. I really don’t think we could’ve moved forward without it,” Dean snarked.

“Bite me,” Sam answered.

“Alright, cut it out you two,” I scolded.

The waiter brought our food out and we spent the meal trying to come up with ideas of what we could be dealing with. We didn’t come up with much since we had so little information to go off of. Dean paid our bill and we were just heading out the door when something occurred to me.

“Oh! What if it’s a siren?” I suggested.

“A siren? From Greek mythology? Like in The Odyssey?” Dean asked. 

“What?” Sam looked at his brother in surprise. 

“What?” Dean asked, a little smug and a little offended.

“What do you know about sirens?” Sam asked me, moving past his shock at Dean’s knowledge.

“Not much,” I admitted. We reached the car and I climbed into my usual spot behind Sam. “All the vics have been couples though, right?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Dean confirmed, turning in his seat to face me. “Is that important?”

“All I really know about sirens is that once they infect you they convince you to kill someone you love. The only siren case I’ve heard of had several husbands killing their wives before it was stopped. So maybe in this case once the men realize what they’ve done, they kill themselves.”

“Seems like the best theory we’ve come up with,” Dean said. He backed the Impala out of the parking spot and headed out of town towards the highway.

“Let’s get there and do some digging around before we settle on a theory,” Sam cautioned. “But say you’re right. How do we kill it?”

“I don’t know. I’ve already given you the extent of my knowledge on the subject.”

“Okay. Well at least we have a starting point. We can look into it more if that still seems like the most likely scenario after we’ve investigated things a little bit,” Sam said.

Apparently deeming the conversation finished, Dean turned up the music. I leaned my head against the window and watched the road blurring by.

~~~~~

The bar we were at was crowded, the music was loud, and the guy I was talking to was cute. Not stop and stare cute, but cute enough that when he came over to where I was standing at the bar and started flirting, I flirted back.

“So how long are you in town for?” Cute guy asked. I vaguely noted Dean in my peripheral vision, making his way to the bar. If I’d been paying attention, I would have noticed how irritated he looked. But I was trying not to notice him. He and I were just friends and would never be more. I’d accepted that. It meant I couldn’t let myself be distracted by him when there was a guy standing right in front of me who was interested.

“Don’t know yet,�� I answered, giving him my best flirty smile. “I’m definitely here for the night though.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Dean interrupted. “Come on Y/N. Sam’s waiting for us.”

“Woah, hey, come on man,” cute guy protested. “You can’t just come in here and force her to leave. We were in the middle of a conversation.”

“You were, were you? Sorry pal, but we’ve got important things to do. Go find someone else to bother.” Dean grabbed my arm and pulled me with him, away from the bar and towards the exit.

“Dean!” I hissed as I was forced to follow along behind him. “What is your problem?” I asked when we made it outside.

“What’s my problem?” Dean echoed, letting go of my arm and turning to face me. “What’s your problem? You know what we’re after here. What made you think it was a good idea to offer to go home with some random guy who for all we know could be the siren?”

I scoffed and started to walk towards the car, but Dean grabbed me again and pushed me up against the building. He stepped in close and put an arm on either side of my head, effectively caging me in.

“What are you doing?” I asked. It didn’t sound quite as irritated as I wanted it to. His close proximity mixed with the few drinks I’d downed had me too overwhelmed to hold on to my anger.

“Next time you’re wanting to scratch an itch in the middle of a case where the monster we’re after seduces people into murder, just save us the trouble and come to me instead,” he instructed. Then before I knew what was happening, he leaned in and kissed me.

I gasped in surprise and he used the opportunity to lick into my mouth. Finally catching up to what was happening, I wrapped my arms around his neck, threading my fingers through his hair and eagerly kissing him back. I never could have predicted this, but I was so thrilled it was happening. 

He made his way to my neck. He kissed a couple of different spots before finding a spot he liked and starting to suck and nip-

I woke up with a jolt and a gasp. I quickly took in my surroundings and realized I’d fallen asleep in the back of the Impala. 

“You ok?” Dean asked, turning in his seat to look at me. I realized we were parked outside a motel. The engine turning off must have been what woke me. I briefly met his eyes and was immediately bombarded with the images from my dream. 

“Yeah,” I told him. I managed to successfully fight the blush that tried to rise in the presence of the very man I’d just been dreaming about. It wasn’t the first time I’d had this sort of dream about the older Winchester. I doubted it would be the last.

Dean went inside to get us a room. We unloaded our bags and made a plan. We decided the boys would drop me off at the police station to talk to the sheriff while they went to question the medical examiner. We would meet at a diner a few blocks away from the police station when we were done. 

“What’s the connection between all of these people?” I asked Sheriff Jones once I’d introduced myself and explained why I was there.

“Connection?” He asked.

“Yeah. This many murder suicides in this short of a time, there’s something going on here. Maybe you’re wrong about the suicide part and it’s just flat out murder. Maybe it’s some sort of messed up pact these people made. There has to be something that connects them though. So what is it?”

“As far as we can tell, there is no connection between any of them. Sometimes these things just happen,” he said.

“How long have you been sheriff?” I asked. He was starting to get up in age, probably in his mid to late 50s at a guess. I assumed he’d been a police officer for a long time.

“Almost 20 years,” he informed me proudly.

“And in those 20 years, how many times have you seen something like this? Three different couples killing each other and themselves. One after another.”

“Well… never,” he admitted.

“Right. So what’s the connection? Graduated from the same high school? Go to the same gym? In a bowling league together? There has to be something that connects them other than them all being married.”

“Actually, they weren’t all married,” Jones corrected.

“I was told they were,” I said. 

“The last couple wasn’t. They were roommates, but as far as I’m aware, that’s as far as the relationship went.”

Damn. Did this throw a wrench in my siren theory? Not necessarily. Just because they weren’t together doesn’t mean one of them wasn’t secretly in love with the other. Or maybe they were really close and loved each other in a non romantic way.

“Great. I’m gonna need a list of close family and friends of all the victims,” I requested.

“What for?” He asked.

“To find the connection. You figure out the pattern, you have a chance of stopping it from happening again,” I said frustratedly. How were these idiots not investigating this further? Did they really believe it was just all a coincidence? 

Jones gave me a list of names and I left. I scanned the list on my walk to the diner, trying to figure out where to start and how long it might take to talk to these people. I rounded a corner and ran into an extremely attractive man. 

“Sorry!” I apologized as he nearly spilled the coffee he was carrying.

“No worries,” he said, flashing a charming smile. “No harm done.”

Had I not spent every day of the past three years sharing close quarters with the most attractive man I’d ever seen in my life, I might have been caught off guard and turned into a mumbling mess. But my time with Dean mixed with the quick thinking and lying that was sometimes necessary for hunting meant I was able to keep it together.

“Still. I should have been watching where I was going.”

“Well in that case, I was just on my way to get some lunch. How about you make it up to me by coming with?” He offered. It only took me a few seconds of consideration to make a decision.

“Sorry, but I’m busy. I’m on my way to meet a couple of colleagues for a kind of work lunch,” I told him.

“Ah. Well, maybe next time,” he smiled.

“Maybe,” I agreed, knowing there wouldn’t be a next time. I sighed as I continued my walk to the diner. He was awfully good looking. Under different circumstances, I probably would have taken him up on his offer. 

I walked the last couple of blocks and noted that the familiar black car wasn’t in the parking lot. I went in, found an open table that would fit all three of us, and sat down. I had to wait about ten minutes before Sam and Dean walked in. 

“Hey. What did you find out?” I asked once they were seated.

“Not much. There wasn’t anything unusual about the bodies as far as anyone could tell. The ME did say that based on the most recent body, she wondered if the suicides weren’t actually suicides though. She’s looking over the other two bodies again to see if it could have been staged to look like a suicide,” Sam told me.

“That qualifies as not much to you?” I asked. “I mean, granted it doesn’t really up the weird factor. But what if they missed something else too? Something they wouldn’t know to look for?”

“That’s exactly what I said,” Dean said smugly.

“Whatever. I’m not having this discussion again,” Sam told his brother as the waiter came over. We rattled off our orders to him and waited for him to leave before continuing.

“Did you find anything?” Sam asked.

“No. I do have a list of people for us to talk to though,” I answered. I took the list out of the pocket I’d tucked it into after folding it up and handed it to Sam.

“What, the cops have a suspect list?” Dean asked.

“No,” I snorted. “Whether or not this ends up being our kind of case, I feel bad for the people in this town. Their idiot sheriff doesn’t even think it’s worth looking into. It’s an open and shut case as far as he’s concerned.”

“What’s your list then?” Dean questioned, leaning over to read over Sam’s shoulder.

“Close family and friends,” I answered. “I’m hoping we can figure out what connects them all.”

“Right,” Sam said. “It’s not like we can monitor every single married couple in this town on the off chance they might get murdered.”

“Actually, they weren’t all married,” I told him. “I guess the last two were just roommates.”

“There goes the siren theory,” Dean sighed.

“Not necessarily. It still could be,” I said.

“How?”

“Sirens don’t target married people specifically,” I explained. “They just make you kill someone you love.”

“So you’re saying they were living together as friends but secretly in love?” Dean asked.

“Maybe. Or maybe not. Love doesn’t have to be romantic.”

The waiter brought out our food and we made a plan as we ate. Dean wanted to check out the crime scenes first. Sam argued that we might get more information from talking to people. I wanted to side with Dean because I really wasn’t looking forward to interviewing ten different people, but I had to agree with Sam. Might as well get this part out of the way. We could look at the victims’ houses after.

~~~~~

Several hours and too many interviews full of crying loved ones later, we stood in our motel room going over the information we’d gathered today. The ME had called an hour ago and confirmed that it was flat out murder, not murder suicide. We hadn’t gotten any useful information out of any of the people we talked to today though, and we were all a little frustrated. 

“Alright, well the roommate vics were extremely close,” Sam recapped, thinking out loud. “Which means Y/N’s theory on them loving each other pans out, leaving a siren as the most likely culprit. But how are we supposed to find it? We still don’t have anything that links these people together,” Sam grumbled.

“And why is it killing people?” I added. “Usually they leave the killing to their victims. Maybe we missed something.”

“Or,” Dean cut in, standing up from the chair he’d been in. “We'll find the answers we need at the crime scenes. Which I said we should look at four hours ago.”

“Yeah, Dean. We know,” Sam snapped.

“Let’s just figure out our next step,” I interjected. 

“Maybe we should do some research on sirens. It would be easier to track it if we can figure out where they live, how they make people do what they want, that sort of thing,” Sam suggested.

“C’mon Sam, we’ve spent all day doing research on the victims. Now you’re telling me you want to do more research?” Dean complained. “What we should do is go to their houses. I’m telling you, if we want answers, that’s where we’ll find them.”

“Maybe, but we still have to know what we’re up against,” Sam pointed out. “Why don’t you and Y/N go check out the houses. I’ll stay here and research,” he suggested. 

“Fine. Let’s go,” Dean said, satisfied with this compromise. He went outside and I heard the Impala’s engine roar to life a few seconds later. 

Sam grabbed his laptop and settled in to work while I grabbed my coat.

“Let us know if you find anything,” I said. Sam assured me he would and then I followed Dean out the door.

We decided to split up to cover ground faster. Dean would drop me off at the first house and head to the second house himself. When he was done there he would pick me up and we would look at the last place together.

Dean parked outside the first house, a small blue one with a row of flowers planted along the front of it.

“I’ll call you when I’m on my way back,” he told me as I was getting out of the car. He drove away and I walked into the house, ducking under the police tape strung up on the door.

The first room I walked through was the kitchen. Other than a few unwashed dishes in the sink, it was spotless. I knew the murders had happened in the bedroom, so I didn’t expect to see much in the rest of the house, but I was looking for any sort of clue that would lead us to the siren. I took a quick look at the pictures on the fridge but didn’t see anything that would help.

The next room was the living room which was also clean. A cursory scan of the room told me these two were huge movie fans. There were several movie posters hanging up on the walls, an entertainment center overflowing with DVDs, and a little box full of old movie tickets. I didn’t know how this could be a connection with the other couples, but it was clearly a big part of their lives, so it was worth making a mental note of. Other than that, I didn’t see much. A brochure for a yoga class stuck underneath a pile of magazines on the coffee table. A framed picture of the two skiing was hanging on the wall. I noticed a coffee mug with what I assumed was the name of a local bar printed on the side. I made another mental note of both the yoga class and the bar just in case.

Then I moved on to the bedroom. Even if I hadn’t known ahead of time what happened in here, it would have been pretty clear. There was a bloodstain on the bed and the blankets were rumpled, like there had been a struggle on top of them. One of the pillows was knocked on the floor. The nightstand on the left side of the bed had been knocked over, a picture frame shattered beside it. And there was a second blood stain on the cream carpet.

I braced myself, turning off the part of my brain that wanted to be horrified and turn away from the scene. I looked around the room for any sort of clue as to who the siren might be or where it might have gone. It would be a lot easier if I knew what exactly I was looking for. Sam was right. We should have done the research first. 

After thoroughly searching the bedroom and the bathroom and finding nothing, I made my way back out of the house. I wasn’t quite ready to give up yet, but I was getting more doubtful that this wasn’t something the real FBI should be handling. I stepped back outside and saw the cute guy from earlier walking past. He heard the door close behind me and looked over.

“Oh, it’s you,” I said. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he answered as I walked towards him. “I do believe that’s a crime scene you just walked out of. Not exactly legal.”

“It is when you’re FBI,” I told him, pulling out my badge. It identified me as agent Y/N Perry.

“That explains why I haven’t seen you around before,” he said, not seeming overly surprised by the news.

“What are you doing here?” I asked again. 

“I live next door,” he told me. “I didn’t really know them. Terrible what happened though.”

“It is,” I agreed. My phone rang and I took it out of my pocket, seeing Sam’s name on the screen. I excused myself to answer it.

“Hey, Sam. What did you find?” 

“Have you heard from Dean?” He asked urgently. 

“No, why?” I asked, immediately worried. Before he could answer, everything went dark.

~~~~~

Sam’s POV

“What do you got, Sam?” Dean asked immediately upon answering my call.

“Not much, but I think I’m starting to figure out more about this siren,” I told him. I hadn’t had time to gather much information yet, but what I had found mixed with a quick phone call to the ME was starting to clear things up.

“Like what?” 

“So get this. When sirens… put you under their spell or whatever, it leaves high levels of a hormone called oxytocin in your blood.”

“So?”

“So, I called the ME and asked her about it. There were high traces in three of the victims. The female victims. For whatever reason, this siren is going after the women, not the men.”

“Son of a bitch! Please tell me you called Y/N before you called me,” Dean said.

“Why? Aren’t you together?”

“No,” Dean growled out in a tone of voice that suggested stress and frustration. “We split up to move faster.”

“Alright. Well don’t worry. I’m sure she’s fine. I’ll call her now,” I said, trying to calm him.

“I’m going back to get her. I’ll call her on the way.”

Before I could argue that he was already worked up enough and should just focus on driving I heard a thump, Dean grunting, and then the sound of his phone clattering on the ground.

“Dean!” I yelled. No response. I hung up and headed outside. I needed to find a car. Once I had one ready to go, I started driving to the closest address on the list.

~~~~~

Y/N’s POV

The first thing that registered in my mind was the way my body was shaking. I heard a distant voice calling my name as consciousness slowly found me. It took a few seconds for me to fully wake up and process what was happening. The shaking was due to the hand on my shoulder, trying to jostle me into consciousness. The voice was Dean’s, and it wasn’t distant. It was right in front of me.

My head was pounding. I tried to remember what happened. I was outside waiting for Dean. Sam called. Then what?

“Y/N!” Dean said a little louder. I opened my eyes and immediately closed them again, hissing at the pain that shot through my skull from the bright light in the room. Someone must have hit me over the head. Who? No one else had even been around. Except for that guy I bumped into earlier. He must be the siren then.

I felt a surge of frustration at my stupidity. How did I miss it? I knew it was weird that he just happened to be outside that house.

“C’mon. We should get out of here,” Dean encouraged, pulling me to my feet.

“Just a minute,” I pleaded as a wave of dizziness rushed over me upon standing. I braced my hand on the wall beside me.

“What happened?” He asked. “You didn’t answer the phone.”

Once the dizziness passed, I slowly opened my eyes. The pounding in my head was intense, but it was more manageable when I took things slow.

“Where is he?” I asked.

“Who, the siren? Dead,” he told me. That was good news I guess. I didn’t know how much help I’d be in a fight right now. He was almost entirely supporting my weight. Then something occurred to me.

“How?” I asked, looking up at his face. “We don’t know how to kill them.”

“Well I had a machete with me. I couldn’t walk in here completely defenseless. When I saw him standing over you, I cut his head off. Apparently that’s all it takes,” he explained.

I looked around the room, searching for the body, and realized this was the house of the first murdered couple. We were in the living room.

“He brought me in here?” I asked.

“Well. It was close by. And there isn’t much chance of anyone walking in. Made it easy for me to find you, too. How are you feeling? Ready to go?” He asked.

“Yeah, I’m good,” I told him. My head was still pounding, but the dizziness was gone.

“Good,” he said, carefully turning me to face him. “I was really worried about you.” Then he kissed me.

I so badly wanted to be able to enjoy this. I’d dreamed about it so many times but never imagined I’d ever build up the courage to tell him how I felt. Or that my feelings would be reciprocated. 

I placed one hand on the back of his neck and gave myself a couple of seconds to be sure my balance was good. Then in one quick motion I stepped to the side and used the hand around his neck to shove him face first into the wall.

“Ow! What the hell?!” He yelled, clutching a hand to his bleeding nose. 

“Where’s Dean?” I asked, watching closely for any indication he was about to run or attack.

“I am Dean!” He insisted. He held a hand out placatingly and took a step towards me.

“Stay back,” I warned him. I reached into my boot and grabbed the silver knife I kept there at all times. “I know a shapeshifter when I see one.”

He dropped his hands and stood up straighter, a cocky smile gracing his mouth. He started to walk in a slow circle around me.

“What gave me away?” He asked casually.

“A few things,” I answered, rotating my body to keep him directly in front of me at all times. 

“Like?” 

“Where’s Dean?” I asked again.

“Oh, he’s fine for now. Just a little tied up at the moment,” he smirked.

I lunged for him, hoping to catch him by surprise. He easily blocked the knife I had aimed directly at his heart and threw a punch that caught me in the stomach. The force of the blow knocked the breath out of me, but I recovered quickly and slashed out with the knife at the hand that was reaching for my hair. He hissed in pain and quickly withdrew his hand.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” the fake Dean growled. “You know you can’t win. Might as well save yourself some of the pain.”

My head was killing me and the dizziness was threatening to return and become a very serious problem. I waited for his next attack. I didn’t have to wait long. I saw his muscles tense to move and then he closed the distance between us quickly. 

He reached out for the hand that was holding the knife, trying to force it out of my grip without touching it. I took advantage of the way he focused on the knife to kick his knee as hard as I could. His knee buckled and I used all the strength I had to push him into the wall behind him. I pressed the knife to his throat.

“Where is Dean?” I demanded.

“What gave me away?” He asked again. I couldn’t believe the arrogance. Did he really not care about anything but the fact that I’d seen through him?

“I’m not going to ask again,” I threatened, pressing the knife just a little harder into his skin. “Where is he?”

“Quid pro quo,” he offered. “Answer my question, I’ll answer yours.”

I seriously debated just killing him, but decided to humor him just this once. He wasn’t going anywhere and I’d get the answer out of him one way or another.

“First of all, Dean wouldn’t just sit there waiting for me to wake up. He would have just carried me out. Secondly, he has a scratch on his jaw that hasn’t healed all the way yet. That particular scratch is missing from your face. Third, if he’s not sure which weapon to bring with, he always chooses his gun. Silver kills a lot of things, so it’s usually the safest bet. Also, where’s the body? You said you killed the siren, but there isn’t a body. And as far as that goes, you don’t have a machete either.”

“Hmm. You’re observant,” he said. “Not observant enough though. Otherwise you probably would have seen this coming.”

His hand shot up and grabbed my wrist, pushing the knife away from his neck. He pressed hard on the tendons there until I was forced to drop the knife. Then he spun us around, pressing me up against the wall. He pinned both of my wrists to the wall and leaned in close, his breath brushing my face.

“Now this seems more familiar, doesn’t it?” He smiled.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I spat.

“No?” He mocked, pressing his cheek to mine and talking directly into my ear. “You’ve never dreamed about Dean pressing you into the nearest wall and kissing you breathless? I think you have. Many times. As recently as just a few hours ago.” 

I whipped my head to the side to look at him. He grinned triumphantly. 

“That’s right. I’ve been inside your head. I know exactly how you feel about this pretty boy of yours.” 

I bristled at the way he had stolen Dean’s face, tried to use it against me, and was now flaunting that fact.

“You don’t know anything,” I spat. He just continued as if I hadn’t said anything.

“That’s why I chose you. It was pure coincidence running into you, but you’re a very attractive woman, so I figured I’d give it a shot.”

“Give what a shot? Murder? News flash, you’ve already done that. I’d suggest branching out and finding a new hobby.” I pushed lightly against his hands, testing the possibility of breaking free. That wasn’t an option. He was holding on tight, and I wouldn’t be able to beat him in a battle of strength.

He smiled and kept ignoring me.

“You see, I had to turn into you first to get in your head and see if you fit what I was looking for. It was a shock, of course, to find out that you’re a hunter. But it turns out you did fit my needs, and you and your friends were so far off the mark, I knew I’d be safe enough.”

“What do you mean, I fit your needs?” I asked. I had a plan to escape his hold, but as long as he was content to talk, I wanted answers.

“Well you’re in love of course,” he said.

“So?” I didn’t bother denying it. Like he said, he’d already been in my head. 

“So,” he answered as if I was being extremely stupid. “Isn’t it so much better being with someone when you’re in love?”

I felt my brow wrinkle in confusion. Being with someone? What was he talking about? What did it have to do with murder? 

I felt a wave of horror and disgust wash over me as I understood his meaning. He’d posed as the men the women were in love with and slept with them before murdering them both.

“If it’s any consolation, they died happy,” he told me. “Well,” he amended. “The women did, anyway.”

“So what?” I snarled. “You thought you’d come in here looking like Dean and I’d just take my clothes off for you? Just like that?”

“Well, not just like that. But I figured you’d be willing enough once I had some time to convince you.”

I remembered how he had kissed me before. I assume that was the kind of convincing he was referring to. 

“We still could, you know,” he offered. He brushed his lips gently against mine and I jerked away. “You can pretend I’m him and I’ll give you what you’ve always wanted.”

“Right before you kill me, you mean?”

“Well obviously I can’t let you live,” he said.

“I think I’ll pass,” I said. I drove my knee up as hard as I could into his crotch. He may not have been entirely human, but he still went down as hard as any human man.

I dropped down to pick up my knife, doing my best to ignore the pain the quick movement caused in my head. I didn’t give the shapeshifter time to recover. I immediately turned to him and drove the knife into his heart. He gasped in shock and pain and then collapsed, unmoving.

I rose to my feet and made my way – a little unsteadily – out of the house. I was pretty sure I had a concussion and that fight had taken all the strength and energy I could muster. As I stepped out of the house, a car came screeching down the road and parked next to the only other car on the street. I didn’t know if I could really handle it, but I prepared myself for another fight.

The driver door opened and a tall man stepped out. Sam, I realized when he called my name. And the car he was in was the Impala. How had he gotten it? Sam ran over to me and put a steadying hand on my shoulder.

“Are you ok? What happened?” He asked.

“Where’s Dean?” I asked, ignoring his questions.

“I don’t know. I’ve been looking for both of you,” Sam said. “I found Dean’s car at the second house, but no sign of him. I was hoping I’d find him here with you.”

Just then we heard a muffled banging noise coming from the other car on the street.

“Stay here,” Sam told me, drawing his gun as he walked towards it. I was in no position to argue seeing as the dizziness was returning and I was struggling to keep my balance. He stopped by the trunk of the car. “Dean?”

“Sam! Get me out of here,” I heard Dean say from inside.

“Just a second,” Sam breathed out in relief. He tucked his gun back into his jeans and went around to the front of the car in search of the keys. He pulled them out of the ignition and then opened the trunk. Dean jumped out, fuming. He was down to just jeans and a t-shirt, the shifter having stolen the rest of his usual layers.

“Where is it? I’m gonna kill it,” he seethed, marching towards the house. He paused momentarily when he saw me swaying on the sidewalk and then hurried over to me. He wrapped my arm around his shoulders and put his own around my waist to help me stay balanced.

“What happened? Did the siren do something to you? Where is it?” He asked.

“It was a shapeshifter, not a siren,” I told both him and Sam who had followed close behind his brother.

“Was?” Sam questioned.

“It’s dead,” I said.

“That explains why my clothes are gone,” Dean said irritatedly. “Why is it that we seem to be leaving behind a trail of shapeshifter bodies wearing my face?”

“Well, you’re an objectively good looking guy. Maybe they just can’t resist all the girls they know they’ll get with a face like that,” I teased.

“Alright, well you’re obviously in even worse shape than I thought,” Dean said, half teasing half genuinely worried. I guess I haven’t ever said anything to him before about him being attractive. This concussion was loosening my tongue apparently. “Sam, you mind getting the body? I’m gonna get Wobbly here to the car.”

“Why can’t we just leave it?” Sam asked.

“Because I want my clothes back for one thing,” Dean replied. “And for another, I don’t want to be blamed for yet another set of murders.”

“Good point,” Sam agreed. He headed for the house.

Dean turned us towards the car and the movement caused me to trip a little on my own feet. The adrenaline was fading away, leaving me helpless to fight off the dizziness that I thought had disappeared.

Rather than let me stumble my way to the car, Dean moved the arm he had around my waist a little higher on my back and put his other arm under my knees, scooping me up in his arms and carrying me. I couldn’t be bothered to keep my head held up and rested it against his chest.

“What happened?” he asked, referring to my balance issues.

“He caught me by surprise and hit me over the head. I think I have a concussion.”

“You thought he was me, so you didn’t see it coming,” Dean said. He adjusted my weight so he was able to open the car door.

“No. He looked like someone else. I turned my back to take a call and he hit me. When I woke up he was pretending to be you,” I explained.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he sighed as he gently set me down, careful not to hit my head.

“Why?” I wondered.

“He took me out too. Only I didn’t even know he was there. If I’d been paying attention better, I could have stopped him before he got to you,” Dean said, ashamed.

“Not everything is your fault, you know,” I told him. I saw Sam step out of the house, a large body tossed over his shoulder. “This isn’t on you. And it doesn’t matter anyway. It’s over.”

I could tell he didn’t agree with me and he would beat himself up over this for a while. But he left to open the trunk for Sam and I was too exhausted to try and convince him otherwise.

~~~~~

An hour later Sam was watching over me while Dean went to take care of the body. I sat on the lumpy couch and held a bag of frozen peas to the back of my head in an attempt to bring down the swelling. I’d taken Ibuprofen as soon as we got to the motel and both the headache and the dizziness were slowly starting to fade. I’m sure finally sitting still helped the situation too.

“Why do you think it killed them?” Sam wondered aloud. “I mean, how did he choose his victims?”

“He chose women that he considered beautiful and that were in love. He turned into the man they loved and when he was done with them, he killed them,” I answered even though he hadn’t actually been expecting an explanation.

“He told you?” He asked, surprised.

“In way too much detail,” I said.

He was quiet for a moment.

“You know what I don’t get? If it wasn’t a siren then where did the oxytocin come from?” 

“The what?” I asked.

“Oxytocin. It’s a hormone that sirens infect you with,” he explained. “Actually, Dean was on his way to warn you when he got ambushed. I told him that all the women had high levels and so it looked like they were the ones being targeted.”

My face drained of blood at the reminder of what that thing had done to those women. Of what he’d tried to do to me.

“I know what it is,” I told him. “And it’s not specific to sirens. It’s a naturally occurring hormone in the body. Ever heard of the love hormone?” At his nod I continued. “It occurs during childbirth, breastfeeding… and sex. That’s why he wanted women that were in love. He said it’s so much better that way.” 

Understanding showed on his face alongside a mix of horror and protective anger.

“Y/N�� he didn’t?”

“No,” I assured him quickly. “Not me anyway. I figured out what he was too quickly.”

Relief replaced the other emotions on his face and he stayed silent as he processed this new information. Then he wrinkled his brow in confusion.

“You said he chose women that were in love,” he said.

“Yeah,” I confirmed.

“So why did he go after you?”

I was practiced enough at hiding my feelings for the older Winchester from both brothers that I didn’t even have to hesitate to come up with an explanation.

“I guess he found me attractive. Per his usual pattern, he turned into me to see if I was in love with anyone and found out pretty quickly that I’m a hunter.”

“Then why did he turn into Dean?” He asked.

“He was pretending to rescue me,” I answered.

“Right, but why? What’s the point? If he wanted you dead, he had the chance. There was no reason for him to mess with you that way.”

I didn’t have a reasonable explanation for this, so I stayed quiet.

“He wasn’t just going after you because you’re a hunter. You fit the profile he was after and he wanted to-” he cut himself off and considered his wording. “He wanted to… complete his usual pattern. Because you’re in love with Dean,” he surmised, smiling a little bit at this conclusion. 

I decided silence was the best option here. I couldn’t possibly contradict his completely accurate deduction. I wouldn’t outright confirm it for him, but I wasn’t going to deny what we both knew to be true.

“Y/N.”

More silence.

“Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll drop it,” he promised. I sighed.

“You know you’re not,” I told him.

“Then why don’t you do something about it?” He asked.

“There’s nothing to do about it,” I answered. “He doesn’t see me that way. And that’s fine. I’ve accepted it.”

“How do you know he doesn’t feel the same if you don’t tell him?”

“Sam, I’m really not in any condition to do anything to you right now, but I swear if you say anything to him, there’s going to be hell to pay in a couple of days,” I warned.

“I’m not going to say anything,” he said, offended by my assumption. “But I really think you should tell him. You guys are so great together. I think you would be good for each other. And I would be very happy for you.”

“Thanks, I guess. My head hurts too much to even consider thinking about this right now,” I told him.

“Alright, fine. I’ll let it go,” he conceded. “For now.”

“That’s all I ask.”

After that we sat in companionable silence while we waited for Dean to get back. Sam turned the TV on. I closed my eyes to block out the light and just listened to it, finding it to be a suitable distraction from the day’s events.

Dean got back probably twenty minutes later by my estimation.

“Hey, how are you doing?” He asked as soon as the door was shut behind him.

“A little better,” I told him. 

“Good,” he said. He took the peas from my hand and gently felt the lump that had formed on the back of my head. “I think the swelling might actually be going down a little bit.”

He took the now room temperature peas to the freezer and switched them out for a fresh bag. He handed it to me and then sat down beside me, putting his arm around me. 

“Is this ok?” He asked. He didn’t know the details that Sam did about the shapeshifter’s intentions, but he knew that I had been attacked today by a guy wearing his face. 

“You don’t have to tiptoe around me,” I told him. “I know it wasn’t you. For the record, I knew the whole time it wasn’t you. I’m fine. I’m not traumatized and I’m not afraid of you.”

“A simple yes would have been fine,” he teased, pulling me closer into his side.

Movement from Sam’s direction had me glancing at him. He just smiled at me, looking meaningfully at Dean and then winking at me. I would have rolled my eyes if the action wouldn’t hurt my head. Instead I pointedly looked away from him. Things with me and Dean were fine the way they were. I wasn’t going to mess it up now just because Sam knew about my feelings.

A romantic relationship with Dean was something I wanted, but not something I needed. This right here – sitting together with my two best friends, knowing that even though I was temporarily unable to defend myself should it be necessary I was still safe and protected – this was all I needed. At least, that’s what I’d continue to tell myself.

Chapter 2

Tags:

@123passwort

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #familiar #reader insert #dean winchester #sam winchester #case fic #monster of the week #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x platonic!reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x platonic!reader #writing prompt

[pycobutterpie]

Stranger in my kitchen

Summary: Dean goes full to protective dad mode, as he sees a stranger in his kitchen touching his daughter.

Pairing: Dean x reader

Warnings: firing a gun in front of a baby

Word Count: 1392

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please don't judge me for using a translator for this original text. I wrote it together with my friend Minnie who has added the part of Lu and Y/N. We are so exited to add something to this beautiful community of writing for dean. Also this is my first fanfic ever published outside my inner circle of writing friends. (In our story it also became true, that Dean is Bens real father. And Bobby never died. ;) )

[Y/N's POV] It was actually a normal day at the Winchesters' house. Dean had been on a hunt with Bobby and should be home soon. Ben was still sleeping his bed upstairs. The two dogs were running around in the garden and also needed a little time to themselves… Baby Cassidy was already awake with her mother Y/N. Cassy was in damn good hands and was currently sitting in a little baby bouncer on the kitchen counter and Y/N was clearing out the dishwasher. But they weren't alone. On one of the bar stools sat a man, not much older than Y/N and Dean, in a smart dark blue suit and white shirt that wasn't completely buttoned up. In his hand was a steaming cup of coffee and on his hand was a ring with a black rectangular stone in it. With the other hand, he nudged Cassy's bouncer and smirked at her. Y/N had just tied her hair up in a bun and was wearing just a top and hot pants as she crouched behind the counter at the dishwasher. Cassy started laughing and just babbled to herself.

[Dean's POV] Hunting. An activity in which Dean felt completely free and could rely entirely on his instincts. It was what he had learned, what he was born for. Making the world a better place, saving lives. The family business.

For once, it wasn't about changing diapers or talking to stuffy principals. No, Wendigos didn't talk and Dean understands Bobby without words. So the men had chased the thing in the nearby St. Jeffreys mine for a few hours and finally sent it to purgatory. It was life like before the unexpected baby happiness. The hunt had been all about instinct, speed and accuracy. That was what Dean had been living for the last few hours.

And that was what he needed now, when he saw a strange man sitting at his kitchen table, holding out his hand for his Cassidy. The strange man was wearing a suit. He was sitting with his back to the doorway through which the hunter had just stepped. An advantage, if only for a split second.

And the pistol was already in Dean's hand, loaded with silver bullets, aimed at the stranger's back.

Dean pulled the trigger immediately.

There were no thoughts clouding his mind. No details that he noticed. Shoot first, ask questions later. That had always been the motto. At least that of John and Dean Winchester. The bullet that Dean hoped would save his daughter went off with a loud bang. Then his gaze was diverted by a person appearing from behind the counter. It was Y/N, who Dean's subconscious had classified as missing before. That's why he hadn't hesitated for a moment to shoot the stranger. Because nobody was allowed to get too close to his little Cassy. No one.

If you had time to look at Dean, you'd see a serious guy with soot and dust on his face, trousers and jacket. A bloody scratch adorned his left cheek, his knuckles were cracked and his palms were scraped open.

[Y/N's POV] Y/N hadn't given any thought at all to the fact that her cousin Lu had announced himself. Twenty minutes before his arrival. Of course, that was typical of him, as always. If he announces himself at all. But she was a good hostess after all, offering her visitor a coffee immediatly. And although he wasn't purely human, she knew he posed no danger whatsoever. Not to Ben, not to her, let alone to Cassy. She had even asked him to help her with some of her research into Cassy's powers and how to secure certain parts of them. But nonetheless, she knew Dean would be back later today. But she just figured the situation could be resolved with a simple round of introductions. But that wasn't the case. Dean came in in the manner of his father and started shooting at everything he didn't know and couldn't categorize. Great…

But Lu was quicker. He had already heard the footsteps crunching on the smooth tiled floor. Because Dean's shoes didn't look particularly clean from the hunt in the forest and so he also heard the safety catch on the gun and then automatically raised his hand towards Dean and the bullet made it out of the barrel of the gun but fell to the floor just before it hit his suit.

Y/N screamed briefly and slapped her hand over her mouth, but then saw how battered Dean looked… "Baby! What happened?" She had also dropped a cup that she had just taken out of the dishwasher and then immediately ran over to Dean, took the gun out of his hand and stuck it securely in the back of her waistband.

Lu had stood up in the meantime and straightened the front of his Armani suit and then looked over at Cassy again and stroked her lightly over her small hand. "Well, it looks like your daddy in a damn bad mood…" He looked to Dean with a grin now, being slightly provocative of course… But that was just the way he was. Otherwise, he was a kind-hearted person, if you could call him that…

[Dean's POV] Dean lips twitched in anger as the guy stopped the bullet just like nothing. That wasn't human. Something like that shouldn't be in this house. Briefly, he froze slightly as Y/N took the gun away from him and remained totally calm. She even seemed taken aback by Dean's reaction. Only slowly did he realize that she could also have an insurance agent visiting or someone from the youth welfare office. But that was out of the question, because the man was totally unimpressed by the fact that he had almost been shot.

What was wrong with the guy and his mocking grin? Dean looked at Y/N in amazement, because she must have guessed what had happened. He almost nagged at her: "A strange, supernatural guy is trying to touch my daughter. This maybe?" Long slimy fingers trying to hurt a cute baby. But not in Dean's kitchen!

Quickly, the hunter rushed to Cassidy and picked her up from the rocker to his dirty arms. The comforting smell of fresh baby skin and diapers came into his mind and grounded him a little. The little girl didn't quite know whether to be happy or cry and looked a little frightened.

Dean turned his child away from the stranger so that he couldn't touch her again. The protective father turned threateningly to the suit guy: "Get your paws off her or you'll have mine in your face!" He would love to deform that polished face a little, given the stranger's audacity. Dean protectively placed a hand on Cassy's head. Only Y/N's light-heartedness kept the hunter halfway to the ground. Eagle-eyed, he tried to spot something about his girlfriend. Some strange behavior. Was she under a spell? "So, what's this, huh?" he asked, still growling slightly.

[Y/N's POV] Lu stood there grinning, his hands buried in his pants pockets by now and leaning against the counter in the kitchen, really very relaxed and not at all intimidated. He then picked up his coffee cup, spread his little finger and simply watched the spectacle that was unfolding between the two of them. As panicked, angry and heroic as Dean was acting, it really amused the cousin.

Y/N rolled her eyes, but then realized that she should have warned Dean that Lu was coming over. She ran a hand through her hair and then said, "Dean…please… If there's someone in this house, I let them in here, otherwise Evangeline and Bones would have struck. And I told you about my cousin Lu from Vegas back then, didn't I? May I introduce…my cousin Lu from Vegas…yes, Lu is not human. He's a warlock. And yes, I invited him here to think about this magical barrier for Cassy's powers and to talk to him. But that won't work if you just shoot him. He's my biological cousin and I hope we've settled the issue now!", she said with a sigh. "Lu? This is Dean… My fiancé and father of my daughter. He's not usually that pissed off. But with Cassy, he sees red… And he has an aversion to strange men in suits…"

#happy birthday dean winchester #deansbirthdaybash #dean winchester #spn #supernatural #dean winchester x reader #angry dean winchester #protectiv dean winchester #dad!dean winchester #dean winchester x daughter #chocolatecakecas #spn family AU

[calisources]

CW'S   SUPERNATURAL   SENTENCE   QUOTES.   all   sentences   have   been   taken   from   mostly   the   kripke   era   (season   1   to   season   5)   of   erik   kripke's   supernatural,   mainly   season   four   and   five.   change   names/pronouns/locations   as   you   see   fit.

SEASON FOUR .

If you're going to shoot, shoot! Don't talk!

Please. Dean, maybe angels can pull you out of Hell but no one can do that.

So, you guys are like Mulder and Scully or something, and the X-Files are real?

It was beauty that killed the beast.

Anna may have sent the angels to the outfield, but sooner or later, they're gonna be back.

I suppose some dumb bastard stood here, felt a jolt of his holy juice and thought 'I'm going to build me a nun factory.' Well, it was the right idea... wrong angel.

Tell me something. Where's God in all this?

I'm not sure if he's my brother any more. If he ever was.

Are you under the impression that family's supposed to make you feel good? Make you an apple pie, maybe? They're supposed to make you miserable! That's why they're family.

If you walk out that door, don't you ever come back.

You don't know me. You never did, and you never will.

Congrats, Sammy. You just bought yourself a benchwarmer seat to the Apocalypse.

I serve Heaven, I don't serve man. And I certainly don't serve you.

Forever. The demons will never stop. You can never be with your family. So, you either get as far away from them as possible. Or you put a bullet in your head, And that's how you keep your family safe.

You know I finally get why you and dad butted heads so much. You two are practically the same person. 

I mean I worshipped the guy, y'know: I dressed like him, I acted like him, I listened to the same music. But you are more like him than I will ever be. I see that now.

Okay, so basically you're saying that every movie monster, every nightmare that I've ever had, that's all real.

He's a Winchester. He's already cursed.

It was too preposterous. Not to mention arrogant! I mean, writing yourself into the story is one thing, but as a prophet? That's like M. Night level douchiness.

Uriel's the funniest angel in the garrison. Ask anyone.

 I'm not a hero, I'm not strong enough.

 I know our fate rests with you.

I couldn't break him, pulled out all the stops, but John, he was made of something unique. The stuff of heroes. 

You need to learn how to manage a damn devil's trap.

Tell me something, geniuses. Even if you do break into the Veil and you find the Reaper. how are you going to save it?

SEASON FIVE.

The only thing you're going to see out there is Michael killing your brother.

I'm gonna rip you apart from the inside out. Do you understand me?

No doubt - endings are hard. But then again... nothing ever really ends, does it?

You try to tie up every loose end, but you never can. 

Dean, even for you, this is a whole new mountain of stupid.

Sorry if it's a bit chilly. Most people think I burn hot. It's actually quite the opposite.

Well, I got to ask. How old are you?

As old as God. Maybe older. Neither of us can remember anymore. Life, death, chicken, egg. Regardless - at the end, I'll reap him, too.

That's the beauty about improv, Sammy. You never know what's gonna come out of your mouth.

You are not the burnt and broken shell of a man that I believed you to be.

World's gonna end, seems silly to get all precious over one little soul.

Why? Because Crowley said so? Because we trust him now?

You think you own the planet? What gives you the right?!?

No one gives us the right. We take it.

You're not my father. And you ain't in my shoes. 

I mean, whatever happened to personal loyalty? How long have I worked for these guys. Five millennia? Six?

 It's funnier in Enochian.

 This creature has the power to take a human's form, read minds. 

And you think you know better than my father? The one unimportant little man. What makes you think you get to choose?

 It's a plan that is playing itself out perfectly. Free will's an illusion, Dean. That's why you're going to say yes.

Think of the million random choices that you make--and yet how each and everyone of them brings you closer to your destiny.

As it is in Heaven, so it must be on Earth. One brother has to kill the other.

Well, call it personal experience. Nobody gets that angry unless they're talking about their own family.

You know why God cast me down? Because I loved him. More than anything.

Now, tell me... does the punishment fit the crime? Especially when I was right? 

 Look at what six billion of you have done to this thing, and how many of you blame me for it?

Honestly, people don't need a reason to kill each other. I mean, you seen the Irish? They're all Irish.

#rp meme #sentences memes #meme call #roleplay memes #sentence meme #( cali meme. ) #rp memes #rp prompt #rp musings #roleplay prompt #roleplay meme

[420technoblazeit]

im watching this one guy's video essay recaps of supernatural and tbh? i forgot just how good it was in the first 5 seasons. i think the drop in quality definitely coincides with the movement away from dean + sam's relationship being central to the writing because holy shit they had such a good thing there

the revelation that theyre destined to be on opposite sides in the apocalypse war between heaven and hell, followed by the plot exploring the parallels between them and michael and lucifer was so fucking good

dean is introduced to us as a carefree jokester who in reality has had a sense of duty and self-sacrifice ingrained from him since he was a child. his role in mirroring michael, who's sworn to defeat hell no matter the cost really sells just how broken he is. the more we learn about his childhood and relationship with john the more fucked up it gets. he really has nothing outside of being a hunter and taking care of sam and it's very clear that he's aware of it

and the idea of sam as a kid constantly questioning their dad and eventually rebelling against him to leave the hunter lifestyle as a parallel to lucifer falling from heaven was also really interesting. he never fell into idolizing john in the same way that dean did because he never got to spend time with him as father and son, he was too young when john started becoming consumed with revenge

like unironically dean and sam were such interesting well fleshed out characters in the beginning of the show and it's kinda sad that the later seasons lost a lot of that

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #the pig squeals #YES this is unironic supernatural analysis in hte year of our lord 2023 i was a huge supernatural girlie for years. god this show was so #good hwen they still knew how to tie everything together and keep the character focus

[lailawinchesterr]

Part one, The call

summary: Mary and Melissa get a call that changes their life and forces them to head on a dangerous road; revenge.

series masterlist

"Lils!" Mary calls from her spot on the couch, flipping the page on her book to the next as her eyes scan the pages. Monsters, vampires, demons, blah blah blah. Nothing about what they're hunting, granted they don't know what it is, but they'd at least know if it's in these books.

Two pages later Melissa has still failed to make her way out of the bathroom and to her sister so Mary gets up to knock on the wooden door, hand on her gun in her back pocket.

"Melissa? What's taking so long?" Just as she's about to knock the door down the handle moves and she quickly takes out her gun, not pointing it at the door yet.

The door opens fully to show Melissa's tear-stained cheeks, and her phone in her hand. Mary drops the gun to the ground and runs over to her older sister, taking the phone and hugging her. "Hey, hey, what's wrong? Don't cry, what's wrong?"

"Mum... dad, they're—" Mary's eyes widen as she takes her sister's sobs into her shirt, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

Carly and Loren Rhodes were on a hunting trip for three weeks, the girls were already worried as it is, but nothing could have prepared them for this. Nothing would prepare these little girls to hear that their mother and father went down hunting monsters and that they were now alone.

"Who called?" She asks quietly.

"Bobby." Mary nods and they both slide down into the bathroom floor, it seems easier than walking to the couch while Melissa is letting out everything she could ever feel and Mary's silently letting tears fall.

That was the first time the two girls had learned to grieve. They knew death was on the table, they're hunters of course, but they never truly understood it until days passed and the only time they'd hear their parent's voice was when they tried their voicemails.

Nothing truly changed even four months later.

"This is Carly Rhodes, I'm busy, leave a message. If it's urgent call Loren, 347-927-1037." Melissa's tears keep going and she takes a deep breath, grounding herself slowly.

"Hi, mom." She says softly, looking over and Mary who's sleeping on the bed next to hers, "I miss you." She whispers, "Mary and I are still hunting," she lets out a non-amused laugh, "We swore we'd stop after your funeral but... we needed to keep ourselves busy."

A beat. Two. The animated voice suddenly says, "Maximum time reached, if you want one extra minute press one." Melissa doesn't bother, shutting her phone off and taking a deep breath before throwing it across the room. She watches as it shatters onto the wall and Mary wakes up alarmed, her gun aimed at no one in particular as she waves it around.

"What—"

"Go to sleep." Melissa turns to give her younger sister her back.

The girls thought they'd be unstoppable, much like the brothers thought, but all it takes is a dead loved one and they're all broken pieces on the floor.

It didn't stop, not even four years later, though it did get better. They had each other so they went through it, rode out the grief and pain. Melissa drowned herself in books and cases, she soon forgot the meaning of a break, opting to stay busy instead.

Mary, on the contrary, had made her entire life into one big party, filled with booze and sex. And the occasional weed. Not to mention hunts, of course, it was the one thing both girls could agree on.

It helped ground them. Especially when they were looking for the sons of bitches who killed their parents.

Sam and Dean Winchester.

#dean winchester x reader #supernatural imagine #supernatural #supernatural smut #dean winchester #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x oc #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester #dean winchester x oc

[1000roughdrafts]

Happy Valentine's Day!

Hi everyone :) I have missed you all so much! I have been kicking myself these last two years for being gone for so long. Not only did I feel like I was letting y'all down, I felt like I was letting myself down. Writing is my biggest passion, and I felt like I abandoned it, and you. For context, before I left, I had Covid pretty bad, and am now suffering from long-term effects with my health because of it (that are thankfully more under control now). After having Covid I left a toxic relationship to unwittingly enter another, even more toxic and controlling relationship (whew is that a story!) and I learned that I have ADHD! (How fun is that!)

Anyway, to everyone that's still following me,

No seriously, thank you for sticking around!!

I have been working on some stuff for the last few months that I am so excited to share with y'all!

A few hours after this post will be a little Valentine's Day fluff fic to come out. Then in the coming weeks, I have a song inspired DeanxReader fic to be coming out labeled If You're Gonna Lie, and the following requests (under the read more with snippets of the fic) ready right now, to be queued. The requests will be coming out first, and then my own idea fics.

If you're interested in updating the tag list (whether that is adding your url, removing it or checking for accuracy) click here :) Next fic to be posted February 28th so if you want to update the tag list, be sure to do so before then :)

"Yes! Why does everyone keep asking me if I'm okay!" she growls, "first my dad, then John, now you!" She throws her hand onto her stomach to try to push away the pain. Sam is taken aback by this, and that's when he notices that her hand is held tightly on her stomach. Suddenly, it all makes sense. Sam is confident that this isn't Y/N, that Y/N is in there somewhere, fighting to be free from whatever demon is possessing her.

I hear my name in Dean's voice from a distance, but I'm surrounded by total darkness. I try so hard with all of my might to tell him I'm here, that it's okay, but the words don't come. Just as it takes all of my strength to open my eyes, but they burn. Everything burns. I don't even try to suppress the scream that bellows out of me. Taking as deep of a breath as I can, I'm scared for myself when it sounds and feels like I'm breathing a water and air mixture. "What's happening?" I manage to say, but Dean puts a finger to my lips. "No, no," he soothes, "no, just don't talk. It's okay," he says so gently, and as he maneuvers me into his lap I cry out in agonizing pain. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he says, then his voice switches into a shaky, fear filled yell for Castiel that hurts my heart almost as much as my wound hurts.

Y/N always felt like she had big shoes to fill, being third born after two boys. She never really formed a bond with John like the eldest Winchester had, despite her best efforts to impress the man. Her next role model was Dean, who became more of a father to her than John ever could be.  Up until her eleventh birthday Dean did her hair into pigtails, partly because he didn’t know how to do any other hair style, but mostly because he thought it was the cutest on her. He’d pack her and Sam’s lunch with snacks he’d bought from vending machines and even pretend to take her on hunts because he knew how eager she was to be just like him.  When she wasn’t learning about monsters and guns with Dean, she was spending her time with Sam. He’d help her with her homework, or play board and card games. They had as much in common as Y/N and Dean, neither Sam nor Y/N got along with John, and neither really knew their mothers. 

Speaking of requests, I'll leave them open for now but I can't promise all will be fulfilled as I try to get my groove. My schedule as I get back into things, I think, will be one fic every other week.

I also updated my master lists and will be posting them later today, to then put them all in one master master list lol

Thank you all for still being here and I hope you like what will be coming out soon :)

Current PermaTags @waywardblueshun @81mysteriouslyme @drakelover78 @soab1967 @shutupandfeedmethings @pollywantacracker666 @sonnierae26 @obsessed5sosfreak @tlovescoffee @hobby27 @cluz1babe @emptycanvasposts @suckmyapplejacks @sigrunsavestheday @flamencodiva

Dean @akshi8278 @squirrelnotsam @laxe-from-outer-space @ellewritesfix05 @cluz1babe @lyarr24 @mrspeacem1nusone @idksupernaturl @fandom-princess-forevermore @stoneyygirl

Sam @fangirlxwritesx67 @tlovescoffee @immafangirlmess @sizekinkshawty

#supernatural fan fic #writer #spn fandom #spn #bug update

[waspredteeth]

tiny appreciation post/insane rambling about Tom Bronson

re-re-re-reading JSA 2007. Tom Bronson is a good character, fight me. Everyday I claw at the air in rage for the many characters introduced into the JSA and then never given any more detail. There's just too many people in the '07 JSA, man. Too Many. Tom is unfortunately one of those comic characters that has a super niche fanbase and nothing to follow up on outside of JSA.

so, in light of me inserting him into the TAXONOMY!verse and putting the guy smack dab into the Battle for the Cowl and Bette Kane's radar - I'm just gonna gush a little bit about his first appearance. (and include some headcanons for the au).

Putting aside my favorite Old Man Trio, can I just say that I like how pretty the art makes Tom look? The first time I read this comic, I got a very James Dean/1950's bad boy vibe from Tom. I'd like to think it was a little bit intentional in order to parallel Ted Grant and his eternal Old Americanism. At least it's something I'll keep in mind.

Getting into the main post though, throughout his first appearance and the later fight with Vandal Savage, its made clear that Tom is surprisingly knowledgable about superheroes and the surrounding goings-on of them. He knows who Wildcat is (though obviously Ted is canonically an old hero, he has to be somewhat well-known) and he instantly recognizes Vandal Savage.

(sidenote: Ted looks like a stiff Barbie doll being thrown into the kitchen there)

I take the fact that he recognizes and correctly identifies heroes/villains as a point towards my "Tom is an observant and analytical person" hc.

Earlier on in issue #3, we see that Tom gets right to heart of things when talking with Ted and that he's quick to reach (somewhat right) conclusions.

Despite this, he doesn't really show it anymore as he quickly drifts into a side character spot as the comic run goes in. I choose to believe that Tom doesn't voice his thoughts to the JSA bc he doesn't know them well and he prefers to make snarky remarks in conversation instead of inserting himself into anything personal.

Later on in the series, Tom is reluctant to learn how to box and is shown to dislike fighting in general.

Given the whole estranged-dad-is a famous boxing champ thing, Tom probably doesn't like boxing specifically because of Ted. He says that he doesn't like fighting because of his were-cat form, which it's assumed that he would unconsciously shapeshift into whenever he got into conflict.

(sidenote: why is this the only time I see his inner monologue in comics *sob*)

This distinct trait of disliking combat, at least the personal fist-flying kind, is definitely something I'm including in the au.

Both Tom and Bette are chosen for the au partially because I like them, but also because they have distinct personalities and philosophies that clash with baby Damian Wayne who's coming fresh into the Bat-scene. There will be conflict as Damian will dislike and mostly abhor Tom's personal disdain for fighting. Tom doesn't seem to fight unless necessary and he canonically prefers to rely heavily on his powers to get out of fights. He's only shown getting more violent than usual after Grant Emerson's death, which is pretty reasonable. They were clearly fast and close friends.

Hooo boy Grant should not have died. Especially in Blackest Night, of all things. Despite my personal dislike of it though, I'm still flip-flopping between leaving him dead and then resurrecting him in the au - or just ignoring his canon death altogether. On one hand, I like Grant and I like their friendship so I want him to appear in the au somewhere (alongside Maxine). On the other, his death allows for a just a little bit of dramatic character development/detailing for Tom that lets me explain why he's not with the JSA and instead is in Gotham. Choices.....

Ending the post here with the final smorgasbord of headcanons and blurbs for the au.

he is Mexican-American, but distant from his roots because his mom raised him single and cut-off from her larger family.

he and Bette will enter a relationship. It came to me in a vision and I decided to implement it bc why not. Tom/Bette is bi4bi.

they start dating bc they both strike me as "why not?" type of people, but it develops relatively quickly after Damian enters the picture and they have to co-parent/watch over him as Gotham collapses in slow-motion around them

its shown in the background of some of the panels above that he's into music, specifically guitar and piano

so he will be in a band at some point

bc Alfred does not have the same relationship with Damian in the au, Tom is one who gives him/lets him keep the kitten

(also bc I don't subscribe to the "League of Assassins hate/kill animals" idea - Tom bonds with Damian over a mutual care for animals/cats)

Tom and Damian are a rocky pair, and it takes them longer to get along than Bette does with Damian

He treats Damian as the annoying little brother he never had, and their sense of humor kinda lines up

Tom fully encourages Damian’s sarcasm and rude comebacks

Believe me, there will be a scene where Tom unconsciously purrs in his werecat form and Damian definitely notices

adding to the maybe Grant stays dead part, I'm still iffy on whether to include a one-sided crush on Tom's part that adds to the angst

unlike Grant though, I'm definitely keeping Yolanda Montez alive

Tom and Yolanda have a semi-distant sibling relationship that's a little awkward bc of the age gap and differing experiences with Ted

Might also resurrect Jake Grant, I need the Wildcat family reunion

Ted and Tom still talk, and even though Tom doesn't stick with the JSA, he's still regularly invited to whatever gathering they have

Tom still keeps up with working out/a bit of training - but he focuses on defense and avoidance instead of out-right conflict

Tom got into heroism bc of Ted, but he stuck with it bc of Grant and Maxine

he does not have strict ideals or a drive to save the world, but he likes to focus on the small things and helps where he can

#tom bronson #wildcat #dc comics #flamebird-in-gotham au #wasp does a thought #justice society of america #justice society of america 2007 #jsa #TAXONOMY!verse #tom bronson headcanons #dc #small edit: I will be adding alt image descriptions later!!! #Damian Wayne #is mentioned #Bette Kane #is also mentioned #dc's junk drawer appreciation

[ltleflrt]

oh lol, I finished watching HB like last week, but i haven't dipped into fandom yet so i didn't realize this comparison was something being done elsewhere as well! Mostly im rewatching the episodes. Honestly to me, the comparison is a bit superficial and has more in common with earlier/mid-season canon trope buckets and how the characters are written in AU fics, rather than how they are like in later seasons of SPN. (the DeanCas dynamic shifted a lot over 12 yrs imo!)

Most superficial thing - the Stolas-Cas owl /headtilt connection. 🦉😂 But Stolas is also a deeply lonely but repressed and dutiful member of a provileged higher class / 'better' group of beings, where he never quite fit in despite being well-placed. It was a meeting with Blitz that put his entire life into a different trajectory, where he finally started to feel things and question his previous life, and ended up forsaking that old perfect life for associating with a guy from a 'lower' class of beings, that he faces derision from his peers for. He is naive to the ways of the world, but willing to learn, even as he is often quite unintentionally derogatory about imps. (this often happened with early Cas) He also has a strong love for his child and a strong connection to the identity of being a father, even though that journey is rocky. He seems to have grown up alone and yet part of a innumerable nameless horde of siblings with a largely absent father, and it is later revealed that the fascination of Blitz and his doubts and unhappiness actually predates the supposedly "first" meeting when they started associating.

The relationship in the beginning is transactional (though in very different ways for both ships), but slowly and surely evolves beyond that. Stolas, despite being much for powerful in supernatural ways, Blitz's is often the one taking the lead and Stolas let's him. Even as Blitz secretely actually thinks Stolas is completely out-of-his-league and is just putting up with him, because he's the toxic guy who everyone leaves if they have a choice and only puts up with if they have to. Then there's the growing up in a nomadic lifestyle with a not-so-great dad, and dead mom in a fire! Right now you could consider the Barbie Wire and Blitz relationship in the Stanford-era!Sam and Dean zone, but clearly Blitz has very strong feelings about his sibling with whom he was close growing up.

lol I was in the tags 5 minutes after the last episode, looking for fanart to reblog. If you want to dip your toes in, I recommend blocking some tags, because the fandom and ship tags are full of antis who need to go watch a different show because they really hate this one and I don't understand why they're still here? Go touch grass, folks. But at least they're pretty good at tagging their hate. I've blocked "anti stolitz", "stolitz critical", "anti vivziepop", and "vivziepop critical" and that seems to have caught most of it.

Thanks for coming back with an explanation! That's way better than the posts I'd seen about it, and I think you're right about the parallels. I think my mental block on it comes from the fact that I ship them for different reasons.

Dean and Cas are reluctant allies at first who become close friends, and there are things keeping them from moving past that. They're always dealing with world ending events that take priority over their own personal drama, and they both fundamentally misunderstand each other's love languages and think things are one sided. I ship them in a star crossed lovers kinda way.

Blitz and Stolas are interesting to me specifically because it started out as a fucked up bargain where Stolas was using Blitz for kinky sex, and Blitz was Not Into It. The power imbalance and dubcon was HOT. And when I found out that Stolas was married too, I was like aw yeah, this guy's a bag of dicks, and he's shoving them into all of Blitz' holes.

Delicious toxicity mmmm.... And then...AND THEN...it's slowly revealed that they both want something more, and Stolas only made the deal because he thought that was the only way he could get Blitz to come back. And it didn't even occur to Blitz that Stolas could feel anything for him because of their class differences.

In the episode that ends with Blitz going "he can get hurt?" with shock and confusion, omg I about fell off the couch. Because on the surface he's talking about physical injuries, but in subtext he's talking about Stolas getting his feelings hurt too. *chef's kiss* ugh it's so fucking good.

Come to think of it, you could make that another Destiel parallel, since Dean doesn't think Cas is capable of feeling romantic love. Now that you've given me a few points of entry, I'm going to start connecting dots all over the place lol

#ltleramblings #reply #anonymous

[highfunctioningflailgirl]

Damage Control - 2x02 Everybody Loves A Clown

When Bobby’s phone rings - his private cell, not one of the bogus agency phones lined up in his kitchen - and he recognizes Sam Winchester’s caller ID, he instinctively knows the shit must’ve hit the fan. He saw it coming: the totaled Impala and Dean in a coma; the ingredients from John’s list that Sam picked up last night; the spell Bobby knows they’re used for - this can’t be good. 

And it isn’t. Sam’s voice sounds strange on the phone - small, brittle - when he tells him that John’s dead. Not only dead, but burned already, the circumstances of his demise not clear to Bobby since Sam stops talking mid-sentence and all he hears is the choked-up breathing of someone trying not to cry. Then, after a pause, a broken question: “Can we stay at your place for a couple of days?”

Of course they can. 

When they arrive, the boys look as wrecked as the Impala that Bobby had towed into his salvage yard only two days ago. Although the injuries on Sam’s face are healing, he looks worse than before, puffy and red-eyed. He’s got one steadying hand around Dean’s bicep and, Christ, the kid looks like a ghost - pale and stony, purple bruises under his eyes, a row of stitches zig-zagging down his forehead.

Bobby’s seen them hurt or sick before. John had dropped them off now and then when they were little, with stomach bugs or strep throats that interfered too long with his hunting, and later, when their own hunting injuries needed more than a motel room and an ace bandage.

But he’s never seen them like this.

“Come in, you two boneheads.” 

He waves them inside, taking a heavy duffel bag and backpack from Sam so he can steer his brother into the study and sit him down on the worn-out couch. Bobby’s itching to learn what happened, but if he knows one thing about the Winchesters it’s that prying will only make them clam up - Dean in particular. What they need, what these boys always needed to open up was a safe space, time and patience. 

“I made up your old room for you,” Bobby says, pointing upstairs with his thumb. “Beds may be a little small for you now, but more comfortable than the couch and the floor. And you-” he looks at Dean “-need to lie down and heal.”

“Nah. I just need a beer.”

Bobby almost flinches at the sound of Dean’s voice. Hollow steel. He sounds like something died inside of him. Probably did. He was close with his dad. The kid’s heart must be in pieces.

“Dean!” Sam raises exasperated, too-big hands. “You just came out of a coma. You can’t drink—“

“You’re not my mom, Sammy. Or my dad.” He scoffs darkly. “Fact, both of them are dead now. I can do what I want.”

Sam’s mouth stays open like gobsmacked.

Bobby sighs. Cynicism. Dean’s always had a knack for that, even as a kid, and now it’s spilling out of him like tar. From experience, Bobby knows it won’t cover the hurt. 

“You wanna be an idjit and drink yourself back into the ICU, be my guest.” He waves at the kitchen. “Enough booze in the fridge to kill whatever brain cells you got left in that cracked noggin’ of yours. But I’m not sure your brother’s in the mood for another Winchester funeral right now.”

Dean scowls at him, bruised eyes blazing green, but when he turns his head to look at Sam, his sharp edges soften a bit, seeing the hurt on his little brother’s face. 

“Fine.” Dean slaps his thighs. “I’m gonna go upstairs and rest.” He spits that last word out like it’s poison. “You two can hug it out or whatever.” He heaves himself up off the couch, slapping away Sam’s helpful arm, and stiffly limps toward the stairs. 

As Bobby sees Dean drag himself up the steps, he suppresses the urge to help. Sam had told him about the severity of Dean’s injuries, and Bobby has no idea how he’s even on his feet (although he has an inkling that John meddled with things he shouldn’t have meddled with, the goddamned fool.) The kid should be in a hospital. He certainly shouldn’t be walking up a flight of stairs by himself. 

But Bobby knows that, when Dean’s like this, he can’t be touched. He can’t have anyone in his personal space. Dean deals with weakness and pain the way an injured cat does: He hides away, on his own, until it’s either passed or killed him. Of course, Bobby won’t allow the latter to happen. But he’ll give the kid his space for now and check on him later. 

When he hears the door to the boys’ room fall shut upstairs, he turns around to Sam. 

The younger Winchester is a mess. He’s pacing, fidgety, face scrunched up, looking like he’s about to burst. Now that Dean’s out of sight, the dam seems about to break.

“Sam?” Carefully, Bobby steps closer. “What’s going on, son? What happened?”

Sam stops in his tracks, all 6’5 of him just standing there, a tremor rippling through his lanky body. Then, unexpected, he takes two long strides and his arms sling themselves around Bobby. His stubbly, sweaty face burrows into his shoulder with a wet sob. Bobby sways a little under the assault. 

But this is Sam. Little Sammy who always loved climbing into Bobby’s lap with a book; whose clammy, plump hand had fit so naturally into Bobby’s calloused one; who’d followed him around like a puppy as soon as John had pushed him inside the door and turned around on his heel.

“He’s dead, Bobby”, Sam sobs. “He’s gone and I can’t—“ The rest dissolves into tears.

Bobby wraps his arms around Sam. It must be looking awkward - he’s half a foot shorter and his old, thinning arms can’t even reach around the boy’s broad back. But he puts all the warmth and comfort into the embrace that he has in his bones, and Sam clings to him like someone who’s drowning. 

“I know, son,” Bobby mumbles, fighting back tears of his own now. “I know.” 

It’s true. Bobby knows about grief and the shock of sudden loss. He’s been there. It’s molded him into who he is today. But he was older than Sam and Dean when the death of a loved one cut into him, and these two boys have been through it twice now. For Sam, it may even feel like the first time. He was only a baby when his mother was killed and has no active memory of that time - or of his mom. He cannot remember his life getting turned upside down back then. Dean can, and Bobby shudders at what this is doing to the boy, hardened as he is already, his armor so heavy he can barely carry it anymore. 

For Sam, their father’s death must feel like a stab wound - sudden, sharp and breathtaking. After the initial, surreal shock, the pain finally comes, and it’s found him now, in Bobby’s study, overwhelming and all-encompassing. At least he’s letting it out. At least he’s crying. At least he’s letting himself be held, and that’s what Bobby does, silently and patiently, until Sam is done. Until he unlocks his arms and steps back, wiping his nose on his sleeve, red-eyed and embarrassed.

“I’m sorry, Bobby,” he mumbles, voice still thick. “I- I didn’t mean to- … I’m alright.”

“Balls.” 

Bobby reaches into the pocket of his worker vest and pulls out an old-fashioned, folded cotton handkerchief that he gives to Sam. 

“Leave the ‘I’m fine’ BS to your brother. No one’d be alright after what you boys went through. Now sit down before you fall over.”

He herds Sam to his sagging old couch and sits him down. While the kid wipes his eyes and blows his nose, Bobby fetches a bottle of Scotch and fills two glasses. He hands one of them to Sam.

“Drink.”

Obediently, Sam does. Technically, Bobby knows booze isn’t the best for someone recovering from a concussion, but it’s been two days since the accident, and Sam isn’t nearly as injured as his brother. He figures that, by now, it’s medicine.

Sam sips, then nervously starts turning the glass in his hands. Even cried out, he’s still twitchy and unable to sit still. One knee is bobbing in high frequency. His mouth is in constant motion, biting and twisting his lips. 

“Okay,” Bobby says, calmly and invitingly. “You wanna tell me what happened?”

And then it all spills out of Sam like water from a burst pipe. 

xxx

Half an hour later, Sam is shoveling a plate of Bobby’s famous kitchen sink chili into his mouth. No idea when the kid’s eaten the last time. Must’ve been awhile. Hopefully not the PB&J Bobby forced on Sam when they’d towed the Impala to his salvage yard.

Bobby trudges up the stairs to check on Dean and stops in front of the boys’ room, listening. No sounds drift out the door, no snoring, no running tv. No sobs either. There’s no answer when he knocks softly, so he quietly steps inside. 

Dean’s on his side, turned to the wall, comically big in the single bed, his still figure softly illuminated by the old nightlight Sam had always needed and that Bobby never bothered to remove from the room. It’s hard to believe that Dean’s asleep. If he is, it’s only due to the exhaustion his injured soul and body are forcing on him. Usually, with his hunter’s instincts, he would have woken up as soon as somebody entered the room, unannounced. In truth, Bobby had half expected to have a weapon pointed at him. 

Asleep or not, Bobby steps closer and leans over the older Winchester brother. He’s in a t-shirt, sheets slipped down to his waist, and as far as Bobby can tell in the semi-darkness there’s no fresh blood staining the grey cotton fabric. Good. At least his stitches are holding.

Sam had told him that, while Dean’s internal injuries had miraculously vanished, the slashes on his torso and the surgery incisions were still healing, like the stitches Bobby had seen on Dean’s forehead. Knowing Dean, Bobby was pretty sure those wounds were overdue a bandage change, and there was probably an unopened pill bottle somewhere in his bag. Of course, he’d left the hospital against medical advice, and Sam, off his head in the wake of their father’s sudden death, hadn’t been able to keep him from walking out. Somehow, the two idjits had managed to steal John Winchester’s body from the morgue and found a remote spot to burn it. 

“Why didn’t you call me then?” Bobby had asked Sam downstairs. 

Sam, face still wet, wringing his large hands, had shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know.”

But Bobby knew. They were Winchesters, taught by John to keep family matters close to their chest, just like pain. 

Now, seeing Dean’s young, marred profile in the semi-darkness, his chest twists with sorrow. They’ve been through so much in their twenty-something years, and Bobby, in fits and spurts, had to witness them losing their innocence and their trust in a world that seemed to mean them nothing but harm. John had exposed them to the darkness. And Bobby hadn’t been able to shield them from it. 

Sighing, he reaches out and - carefully, stealthily - touches his hand to Dean’s forehead to check for a fever. He’s a little warm, but not alarmingly so. The boy stirs a little, brow furrowing, a small sound escaping his parted lips. To Bobby’s surprise, Dean leans into his touch, eyes closed, before he stills again, dropping back into deep sleep. 

His stupid old heart overflowing, Bobby remains like this for a prolonged moment - his hand cupping Dean’s forehead, the boy’s spiky hair soft against his calloused palm - until his back starts to twinge and he has to straighten back up. Tenderly, he pulls the sheet back up to Dean’s shoulder. 

“I gotcha,” he grumbles softly before leaving the room and quietly closing the door.

The damage Control Series - Masterlist

Read the whole series on AO3 here:

#spn #supernatural #fanfic #fan fiction #2x02 #everybody loves a clown #the damage control series #sam winchester #dean winchester #bobby singer #hurt/comfort #grief #hurt dean winchester #emotionally hurt sam winchester

[cosmicgrapevine]

They stopped at school first; every teacher except Miss Vernon had loaded them down with spring break homework, and Melanie wanted to plead her case to Mr. Hansen. It was past 4:30 and the halls were nearly empty. Just as she was ready to knock on the dean’s door, someone inside smashed their fist against it, hard enough to rattle the handle. Melanie flinched and stepped back, staying away from the windows.

“Fuckin’ hell, Gary, what’s gonna change your mind, huh?” It was Travis. Goddammit. “Dead body? Is that what’ll sway ya? ‘Cause it’s comin’, believe me.”

“Mm…nah.” That was Mr. Hansen, who sounded utterly unworried. “Sure, I had my doubts at first. But he’s been a perfect student, and practically gone native already.” They were talking about Lynd. “All he needs is to make a few friends outside the LKPC. I gave Nate Goldman a nudge; said he should teach Lynd some ball. We do need an infielder.”

“Friends? He’s a Markstepper, Gary, a born and bred killer. They don’t have ‘friends’. And he’s the second one to turn up here this year, in the heart of Warden territory, and rumors are flyin’ about Equinox too. The Marksteppers are plottin’ something, and that boy’s a part of it, and y’all are buyin’ his ‘Oh, I just want a hooome’ bullshit like he’s your long-lost son. Just gimme a chance to prove it—”

“I said no.” Mr. Hansen’s voice had changed, now simmering with contempt. “You’ve always been an asshole, Travis. When you were fifteen, I thought hey, he’ll grow out of it. But now you’re twenty-four and even worse, ‘cause the old man spoiled you rotten all those years. Now you’re on his bad side for once, after that stunt you pulled with the mirror, and you can’t handle it.”

“So in you crawl, trying to get me to go behind Mr. C’s back with you, and you think the best way to do that is threatening one of my students?” He chuckled. “Tell you what, if I hear you went through with it anyway, I will personally flash-fry all the fat out of your vicious little brain, and you know that’s not a metaphor, pal. Now get lost.”

Melanie didn’t have time to react before Travis slammed the door open. He did a double-take upon seeing her, and for a second Melanie flinched, worried that she’d be the literal punching bag for Travis’ frustration, but instead he simply snapped “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I j-just had a question for Mr. Hansen…”

“You didn’t hear a fuckin’ thing, got it? Not a fuckin’ thing."

Melanie eagerly nodded. She just wanted him to go away. And he did, his stomps echoing down the stairwell.

Mr. Hansen approached her, shaking his head. “I’m sorry you had to hear that, Melanie,” he said.

“What’s he want with Lynd?”

“Oh…” Mr. Hansen shook his head. “Just the usual Warden chest-thumping. Can’t handle being shown up by a Markstepper. But I promise you, he won’t hurt anyone. I’ll see to that.”

“Why do you guys keep that psycho around?” She said bitterly. “How can you trust him?”

Mr. Hansen leaned in. “If it was up to me, he’d be out on his ass, for exactly that reason. But it’s not up to me, and I think you know who’s calling the shots here. Travis and the old man, they have a history. I’m sorry, but that’s all I can say. Now, what did you need?”

“I’ll ask later,” Melanie said. She just wanted to get out. When she was in fifth grade, and her dad was neck-deep in chasing down mobsters, she’d learned about made men. Mafiosos who had the blessing of the boss to do whatever they pleased, who answered only to him. That was Travis. He could do anything, hurt anyone, and Florentino would cover for him. He was in Florentino’s doghouse now, apparently, but who knew how long that would last?

No, there was no justice in Warden-land. There was only power. Mr. Hansen could lie to her—and himself—but he knew it too. He knew Travis wouldn’t respond to reason, only violence, and he knew he could deliver that violence, in the form of some horrific literal-brain-melting magic, if he had to. She didn’t trust him either. She didn’t trust any of them deep down. Not even her parents.

Of course, in her dad’s mafia tales, there was one level between the boss and his made men: his actual family. Like her. She wondered what Travis would have done otherwise.

#melanie #travis #mr hansen

[boyinthevoide]

CW: Rape mention, homophobia mention, references to child abuse.

One of my favorite things about Heathers the Musical (haven't seen the film) is how a lot of the characters actions, while objectively very bad, make sense.

And example: Kurt Kelly and Ram Sweeney seem like just two teenage dickheads, pushing people around because they can. Makes you think "why are they like this?"

And then, in the scene directly before Big Fun (Act One, Scene 5), we as the audience meet Paul Kelly and Bill Sweeney- Kurt and Ram's respective dads.

And immediately from the way they talk and the way they treat their sons, you can instantly tell "oh. That's why."

The full dialogue is this (referencing the West End version due to me being more familiar with that version):

RAM'S DAD. Okay, Ram. Have fun tonight, but I expect you to act your age. The Hendersons have the phone number for the cabin. If they call to complain, I'm gonna drive back here and knock the sand out of your diapers.

RAM. Dude! What am I, five?

RAM'S DAD. I'm your dad, not your dude.

KURT'S DAD. That goes double for you, Kurt. You're a guest in Bill's house and you will treat it with respect.

KURT. Sure thing. Dude.

(RAM cracks up laughing. KURT'S DAD takes the challenge in stride, smiling. Then, to RAM'S DAD:)

KURT'S DAD. Hold his arms.

(RAM'S DAD grabs KURT's arms. KURT'S DAD puts his son in a headlock, laughing.)

KURT'S DAD. Who's a great big sissy? Who's going to prom in a bright pink dress (OP's note: If Kurt had made it to prom he should have worn a dress, he'd rock a dress.)? Who's a sissy?

KURT. Ow! Okay, me! I'm a sissy, I'm a big fat sissy.

(The DADS release KURT.)

KURT'S DAD. Darn right. Enjoy your party, son.

RAM'S DAD. Punch it in.

(The DADS punch it in and exit.)

Just from this one interaction, it becomes immediately obvious why Kurt and Ram act the way they do- because their examples of how they should be are their dads, who they mimic in so many ways, most obvious in the "punch it in!" that both so commonly do. While this doesn't excuse anything Kurt and Ram do- they're still homophobic rapists- it makes it make sense. It lets you look and go "oh. That's why they act like this. Because their examples of 'manly men' act like this."

And, of course, the other, more subtle example of this is J.D. There's little hints about his dad sprinkled throughout just his first proper conversation with Veronica in a 711 (Act One, Scene 4). Lines like "The old man seems to love tearing things down.", "[That's your dad?] In all his toxic glory.", "When mom was alive/We lived halfway normal/Now it's just me and my dad/We're less formal/I learned to cook pasta/I learned to pay rent/learned the world doesn't owe you a cent." paint a not-pretty picture of J.D.'s home life. And then when we meet Big Bud Dean, J.D's father, he seems to live up to J.D's description, telling his son to "get rid of" his girlfriend, describing to said girlfriend (Veronica) how he'd blow up a suburban house before darkly asking where she lives. He immediately has very bad vibes. Then later, right before I Say No, in Act Two, Scene 4, we see Big Bud Dean again. J.D. starts off the scene arguing with Veronica after she shouts about murdering three classmates, how they could have gone to prison if they'd believed her. As soon as Veronica gets him to calm down a little, Big Bud Dean appears, telling J.D. to get in the car and ignoring whatever might have been happening a second ago. When J.D. says he's busy, Big Bud Dean leans in and says, and I quote,

"Lotta pretty women out there, sport. I can make another son any time I want."

Not to mention every implied moment of past abuse throughout the show.

So while having a shitty dad doesn't excuse J.D.'s actions, it does give them an amount of sense. Since his mother died, he's only ever been shown cruelty from a clearly quite violent (and possibly murderous) father. Of course he seems to think people can't change, that he and the only person he trusts, Veronica, are judge, jury and executioner for the less pure people of the world.

However, one of the many messages I think Heathers puts out is "Just because you have been hurt does not give you the right to hurt others."

Just because Kurt and Ram and J.D. have been hurt by people who shouldn't be doing such things to them does not mean they have a pass to hurt others.

This has been a lecture from someone who relates to J.D. but understands he's still wrong.

#heathers the musical #jason dean #kurt kelly #ram sweeney #character analysis #rape mention #homophobia mention #references to child abuse #just adding those in because i dont want to upset people.

[sapphyreopal5]

So I've seen some posts here in the anti blogs regarding black magic, Akashic Records, things like that and wanted to share some insight I've gained on this tidbit. I realize this might not be in everyone's wheel house at first glance but I thought I'd write about this anyways. I do a lot of divination work using a pendulum and ABC chart, which is how I learned about this and connected the dots with other tidbits of info I've gathered from divination and also online.

I'm sure a lot of you here are aware of what happened with the Rust shooting a couple years ago. I'm also sure some of you know that Jensen made a remark regarding the film Brokeback Mountain and how this movie ruined Wild Western films for him [x]. Now you may be wondering "how are these 2 'unrelated' incidents related"? According to his Akashic Records (aka both Divine Blueprints and Divine Plans), a certain someone's astral body made a tamper in his divine blueprints back in the summer of 2002 that makes these 2 incidents 100% related as I'll explain later.

This person's astral body who is his wife created this tamper and had it to where Jensen was going to die on the set of Rust. It turns out that if someone hits "Enter" while hacking the computer in Gehanna/Cloud Nine that has limited access to the Akashic Records, a lot of things have to be done to "undo" a tamper, or what was not supposed to happen to someone. All magic does is enforce what is in the Akashic Records and essentially is the reason behind why everything works the way it does. Black magic is essentially the enforcement of the magical user's astral self trying to eliminate their own unpleasant events in their divine plans, and at the same time placing a bad event in someone else's divine blueprints. As Arthur C. Clarke once said, "Magic's just science that we don't understand yet".

Apparently, when Jensen made the comment about not wanting to do cowboy movies because of Brokeback Mountain when a fan asked him if he'd ever make a cowboy movie, one of his higher selves (yes people can have more than one) was telling him "I am Hermes, one of your higher selves. I've come to warn you to not pursue any wild west movie roles, as there is a tamper in your divine blueprints [Akashic Records], where you die on the set of a wild west movie called Rust from a mysteriously loaded prop gun going off while being pointed at you and being fired off camera. The same person who made this tamper in your blueprints will prove to be unsupportive in your time of need but should be the most supportive [your wife], should you end up auditioning for this role and end up walking away from this set alive."

So, what was done to make it, so Jensen dodged this bullet and his life spared? A man I went to school with who looked similar to Jensen (same brown hair, green eyes, skin color and skin tone, but was shorter than Jensen) yet behaved and dressed just like Dean Winchester was killed 9 years ago by freak accident while cleaning his own gun; this was coincidentally 2 days after I started to date my son's dad in February 2014. 2 nights before he passed away/when my son's dad and I started dating, I had a feeling something big was set in motion and it would become clear to me very soon what that is. I oddly enough had a big crush on this guy in middle school but this didn't pan out for multiple reasons. Also, it turns out that Dean didn't marry Ellen's daughter Jo on a divine blueprints level. It was also set up to where Danneel played Sister Jo, who Jensen is coincidentally married to. This served as a hint of whose astral body made this tamper in Jensen's blueprints to begin with. It also turns out that one of the last things that had to be done in order to spare Jensen's life was to make it so Dean Winchester died... by being impaled in the back by backing into a rusty nail. Strange way to die by the way, don't you think?

I do hope Halyna and that man are both resting in peace. On a very strange note, Halyna's death happened on October 21, 2021 occurred 2 days before my birthday, which is on October 23. Apparently Jensen does have an important job to complete and needs to be alive in order to finish it afterall.

#jensen ackles #akashic records #divine blueprints #divine plan #god's plan #divination #anti danneel #black magic #psychic #supernatural #spn

[dotthings]

They lure you in with the monster club playing dress-up to go under cover, oh it looks like so much FUN.

I AM SHOOKETH.

That was A Lot.

“Fighting the battle between good and evil isn’t easy, especially when the first monster you have to face is the one inside yourself.”

This was powerful on its own, but also a reminder, this is Dean looking into the past, it’s the story he’s telling, his exploration to understand his parents, what helped shape them, and him, and then expressing what he’s learned.

There’s a lot of Dean echoes. The most pointed was John punching the bathroom container, when he’s spiraling from a PTSD incident, reliving Murph’s death. We’ve seen Dean react to grief that way—beating the Impala with a tire iron after John’s death. Punching a picture frame in the hospital when Bobby is dying. Punching a sign on the wall of a rest-stop after Cas’s death in S12.

There’s a lot of Sam echoes. The anger in Sam, the dangerous edges. Sam’s temptation towards using darker forces, accessing the darkness inside himself. To hone himself into a perfect weapon against Lilith.

We have seen both Sam and Dean spiral and be drenched in blood. It’s not simple or a clean line that oh John is like Sam or oh John is like Dean. The point with Sam and Dean is how they may have their darkesses but ultimately both don’t go too far down that path, they pull back out. They don’t lose sight of themselves. Who they are. The love is the strongest part.

There’s also some major Cas parallels going on. Instead of god of war, Cas’s father, God, made him to be a weapon and Cas thought that was his one and only purpose, to be the perfect obedient angelic warrior. Cas has been tempted by darkness too, needing power to save others, or latching onto a mission in order to feel useful. We’ve seen him drenched in blood, we’ve seen Cas let himself be transformed. Cas is also both John and Carlos in this ep (more on that below).

God of war feeding John a speech about John’s anger being honed into a weapon and how this is necessary to defeat the Akrida, trying to convince him that his anger and killing defines him, needs to define him. And there’s another pointed Dean echo, to do with all of Dean’s worse fears about himself. Cas’s farewell confession to Dean in 15.18 in a way is the antithesis of the god of war’s speech. It’s Cas’s plea to Dean to never lose sight of how loving he is, that is what defines him, not war.

What John eventually does to his children is him finally accepting that helm of Mars. The god wanted to make John a weapon. Years later, John will try to turn his oldest son especially into his blunt instrument. To force Dean to put on that helm. Eventually Dean makes his own choice to hunt. But in Dean’s childhood, it’s John as that god of war, pressuring Dean.

While there’s goodness in this young John, he’s spiraling we’re already seeing him give into it in ways Dean didn’t, it’s like the darker parts of John are so much stronger, while in Dean it’s the light. The only time Dean gave in was after decades of torture in Hell. While John’s spiraling surrounded by friends, and a loving parent, in his hometown. Mary and Dean both had weapons put into their hands when they were children, and had drill sergeant dads who taught them this was their highest and only purpose. Yet somehow they don’t become what John becomes. Not that John completely lost sight of the loving parts of himself, but he let the obsession with the hunt, the kill, revenge, eat him.

The most evident mirrored pair in this ep is John and Carlos. Reflections of each other, in ways that show differences. Carlos is a lot more similar to Dean, despite all the trauma, loss, being a hunter, Carlos doesn’t lose that core of himself, he knows how to find joy, and his loving nature is strong. Carlos’ love being strongly defining for him is a Dean thing, but it’s also a Cas thing.

We find out in this ep that Carlos is a vet too, while his experience is somewhat different than John’s. He was a medic, rather than a marine. Carlos’ role was to save lives, not kill. But he is no less shaken and scarred by the things he saw in Vietnam. The joy in Carlos and the love and self-expression is how he didn’t lose himself to it, but he too has unaddressed PTSD and I am shooketh we have an ep of an SPN show that has a hunter actually for serious signing up for therapy support group, not just playing at it as under cover for a case.

Carlos keeps trying to keep John from going over the edge in this ep, but the god of war sends John over the edge when Carlos steps on the landmine. Now Carlos is John’s dead friend Murph, and throughout the ep John has flashbacks to Murph’s death. We see the bond between John and Carlos growing in this ep (that hug!!!!). And then Carlos almost becomes Murph for a moment. No wonder John went right over the edge. And it’s not just Murph, it’s John’s attachment to Carlos and John’s anger about Carlos being in danger. It’s not just Mary being in danger that will send John spinning out. (And the Murph-Cas parallels are loud).

While Carlos’ fear equally is about losing his friend—and not just John dying but John losing himself, not being John any more, if he fights the war god and draws first blood and puts on the helm and becomes the weapon. It’s a given Carlos lost some friends in the war too. Maybe he saw some of them break from it, in combat. And probably there’s a lot of faces he can’t forget—like Mary remembering every person she couldn’t save—the people Carlos tried to save when they were bleeding in the jungle and he lost some of them.

Seems fitting that it’s Millie who breaks the god’s vase, freeing John and Carlos. Millie is a very warm, loving presence on the show, while there is something Dean-like in how she will dodge being too openly sentimental but then gives into it every time and wears her heart on her sleeve every minute. I really like that she got involved in the hunt this time. She’s lost her husband, she doesn’t want to lose her son, and she’s afraid of seeing John pulled into that world, but she’s not afraid to take action and to step into the field. She’ll do what she can to save her child.

It was good seeing Mary and Lata’s closeness in this ep—they have known each other for a while and they both knew Maggie. Mary and Lata have a shared grief, and it helps both of them process the loss of Maggie, until finally Mary is ready to let go a little. Learning from Maggie and carrying her legacy forward, as she and Lata write postcards the way Maggie did at the end, but also putting Maggie’s things away. Inviting Carlos into the Campbell home when he needs somewhere more comforting to stay than his van after his PTSD has been shaken loose by the monster hunt and Carlos confronting that.

John’s collapse isn’t something we have seen too often in the SPN universe. There have been big emotional breakdowns, but usually these are confessionals and dropping big, unhappy revelations. The revelations are already done for this week. Carlos’ trauma results in him unable to sleep in his van temporarily, where he doesn’t want to be alone. John’s trauma lands with him huddled in the bathtub under the shower fully clothed, shaking, and sobbing. As if the water can wash away the fear of what’s inside of him, the grief, the anger, the hurt, the PTSD. Millie holds her son, but no matter how tightly Millie holds him, she can’t stop what’s coming.

#The Winchesters #The Winchesters spoilers #spnwin #spnwin meta #John Winchester #Carlos Cervantez #Latika Dar #Mary Campbell #Millie Winchester #IT'S ONLY EPISODE 4 AND IT'S ALREADY LIKE THIS!!!!

[mlobsters]

supernatural s12e16 ladies drink free (w. meredith glynn)

s12e16 / hannibal s2e9 shiizakana

okay so it's kind of generic dead boy and girl in snow but the fur on her jacket and the positions and the grunty growling presumably werewolf just made me think hey it's a way less gory version of the hannibal scene

MICK My report to the home office ran long. We've had our hands full since... (Dean and Mick look down at a blood stain on the floor) Well, best not to dwell on that. DEAN Wow. That is some world-class repression. You are British. MICK We prefer to call it a stiff upper lip.

you're one to talk there, dean

SAM Wait a second. You killed them all? Even the ones that weren't hurting anyone? MICK Sorry? SAM I mean, werewolves aren't like most monsters. Some can control it. I mean, we – we have a buddy got bit. Nothing but beef hearts ever since. MICK And you trust him? Well, killing is a fundamental need for werewolves. And monsters don't just stop being monsters. DEAN Well, Garth did.

was wondering when this would come up

poor sammy. but dean's too excited for free and fancy shit. thanks for throwing us a bone, meredith

so old mick here lied about the girl being bitten, actual crisis of conscience or setup for having to kill her later to prove his point or...

(yay it's claire/kathryn keeper of my favorite hair on the show)

CLAIRE So, your foreign exchange student is totally lame. DEAN Yeah. He's Sam's best friend. (Sam sighs deeply) They're like nerd soul mates.

you jealous, dean-o

why is the moon literally being erased by cg, forgot to make the cloud?

secret third option, return to the hospital to kill her quietly before she's even turned. but he's sorry! oh how convenient she turned right as he was about to kill her so he had to fend off her attack

CLAIRE Sam, no offense, but who do you think the kids are gonna wanna talk to? Me, or some old skeezer?

skeezer lol

DEAN Yeah? I used to think the same thing. Well, here's a little tip. Things aren't just black and white out here.

took a minute but he came around

should have seen her getting bitten coming but i 100% didn't

SAM Mick, you killed a kid. We're not angry. We're done!

he gonna stick to that?

there's something about the way she said "unless i break out" that really worked. and the music was appropriate and far enough behind the dialogue it wasn't obtrusive

MICK The subject died in agony. Sorry. CLAIRE Yeah. Maybe second time's a charm. DEAN Hey, no, no. You don't get a vote in this. CLAIRE It's my life. I get all the votes. DEAN Sam, you wanna back me up here? SAM It's her life.

of all people, sam's gonna back her up on this topic 24/7

dean really in full-on protective dad mode this episode. i must have learned this little werewolf lore tidbit in fic and didn't realize because i honestly thought we already knew this sire business, or made some inference from the vampires 🥴

kathryn newton is so good as claire

they remembered to put the moon in a spot that vaguely looked like it was obscured by clouds, good job team

very special episode where mick learns things aren't black and white, after all

CLAIRE Right. Eat me, Teen Wolf.

lol tell him, claire!

BARTENDER It's not like I want to do this. My pack, we were happy. We didn't hurt anyone. And then hunters with weapons that I've never seen before, they show up and... take out 20 of us, just like that.

ha ha so bmol is to blame for it all because they went after the veggie wolves, i snorted. hammering us over the head with their point again

and the very special episode where claire learns again she's loved by her family and not in fact better off alone

always laugh this show makes blood draws happen in any old place, just slam a needle in, bing bang boom done

wish they'd leave her hair what i assume is her natural texture (wavy), whenever it's overly Done like this it doesn't really vibe with what she's usually got going on. was gonna bitch if dean didn't get a hug goodbye from her :p

really glad they didn't kill her off. feel like if this was in the early seasons, she would have died for the manpain of it all

#gore #supernatural #spnwatch #spn 12x16 #spn clip #meredith glynn #blood #hannibal