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stusbunker · 4 months

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Spotless: Measure

Chapter Two

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader

Word Count: 1866

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, band dynamics past and current, buried feelings, mild drug use, unbeta'd

Series Masterlist

Divider courtesy of @cafekitsune

Dean pocketed his keys and grabbed his coffee off the roof of the impala. Sam was already halfway to the studio entrance sipping on his green smoothie and all together being the energetic morning person that he annoyingly was. They had been at it until after midnight, but were back before their usual ten o’clock start time. Dean knew it’d be another grueling day, but at least he was just working out the final few songs and not screaming himself hoarse in the box again. Yet.

Dean followed Sam inside Trust No One Studios, a rundown building off the highway that wouldn’t look like much if the owner wasn’t a paranoid security stickler. The parking lot and the entrances were all covered by cameras. They fobbed their way into the main entrance and nodded at the day guard, Ronald, who waved them through the metal detectors. He was a fan, but had kept a lid on it since Sam had snapped on him during their third album.

“Thanks, Ronnie,” Dean muttered, voice still raw.

“Good luck in there,” Ronald replied, but only to Dean.

Sam rolled his eyes and huffed off down the hall towards the basement steps. Dean trailed after his brother and bandmate to the largest recording room Frank had to offer. The Leviathan Level held two studios, but they were going deeper, to the bottom level, dubbed Purgatory, and its nearly grade-school-auditorium’s worth of space.

They meet another guard at the bottom of the steps, but just flashed their lanyards at him to continue on toward Ash’s domain.

Ash had been engineering their sound since the beginning. In fact, Dean wasn’t sure he had any other legit sources of income besides whatever residuals he earned off their soon-to-be five albums. But he wasn’t about to ask him either. Ash was a weird dude, wicked smart, but weird.

The control room still smelled vaguely of pot when they entered, but no one cared. Sam walked straight through to the door to the main part of the studio to start his warm ups. Dean dropped into one of the chairs at the dials and finished his coffee. He knuckled one eye as he watched the clock on the wall, wondering who would be the next to arrive. He didn’t want to call Lee and wake his ass up to get back to it, but he would if the rest of the band weren’t ready to play by ten.

As he toyed with the lip of his gas station coffee cup lid, Dean’s phone buzzed with an incoming text to one of the many group chats the band had. The name ‘Trouble’ was Dean’s hint that it was actually work talk.

>>>Don’t forget to take pictures! Or I’ll come down there and get them myself.

Which was a blatant bluff on your part and Dean knew it. Frank and Ronnie both gave you the creeps. Plus, you liked to hear the finished product in its entirety, which he kind of loved about you.

<<<Not it

Dean replied before anyone else and repocketed his phone unwilling to figure out just who would be getting the candids for your next social media blitz. He had too much to worry about as it was. He pulled out his notebook he kept in his back pocket with song ideas. The bridge to ‘Pushing Through’ was giving him problems and he wanted to rework the lyrics a bit.

This had been a hard album, both in getting the band to come together and make it happen and how much he was pouring into each song. Without Cas, Dean’s whole process was off and instead of asking the new kid or, hell, even Sam for help, he decided he needed to write most of it single handedly. Call it penance or a martyr complex, Dean had made his bed and he was going to lie in it.

Late night phone calls and hours on the road

My worst mistake wasn’t fightin’

It was having all this guilt that never showed

When you said I was getting frightenin’

I just pushed through

Late night phone calls and hours on the road

My worst mistake wasn’t fightin’

It was holding back this love I never told

Then I see your eyes filled with lightin’

You pushed me through (strike through)

You pulled me through

Dean didn’t realize Kevin had come in until he heard the keyboard join in on Sam’s scales. He looked back at what he’d adjusted and hummed to himself. This wasn’t a song he’d have written even two years ago. It was a fuckin’ love song for one and it put the spotlight on the last year and a half of his mistakes. He almost didn’t want to ruin it by putting it out there for the world to see. But they needed twelve and it was the closest to finished he had.

For the band and this deadline, Dean could be brave.

Pamela strolled in and slumped against Dean’s shoulders, somewhere between a hug and using him as a pillow. He chuckled and patted her head as he flipped to the next song on his list.

“Where’s your husband?” Dean asked off-handedly, knowing Lee couldn’t be far.

“Ex-husband,” Pamela grumbled.

“Sure.” Dean honestly couldn’t keep track anymore. Pam and Lee had been married to each other at least twice and shared one kid, two houses and three dogs between them.

“He’s dropping Gibson off at his mom’s, nanny needed a day off,” Pamela explained and Dean could feel the glare she was giving him.

“Well, isn’t that nice of you.” Dean gave her a fake smile.

“I know. A thoughtful employer— in this economy?” Pamela snarked and picked up Dean's coffee, frustrated when she found it empty. “Ugh! Okay, well, I’m gonna go stretch— maybe I can talk that brother of yours into some yoga before we get going.”

“You are such a creeper.”

“Sammy’s a big boy, Dean.”

“I don’t want to know.”

Pamela shook her head and slinked off to join Kevin and Sam.

“Take some pictures— cuz I aint!”

Pamela glanced back at Dean and winked while pressing an imaginary shutter button. Dean stood suddenly and chased her into the live room until she squealed and hid behind Sam. Her tiny frame dwarfed behind Sam’s, Dean relented, smiling genuinely for the first time that day.

Dean grabbed his acoustic and strummed, pacing around as he muttered his amended lyrics under his breath. Lee and Bobby made it in just after ten. Luckily, Sam and Pam already had enough of their bending competition, which kept Lee from getting pissy about it. Just as Dean and Lee were going over the chord progressions on ‘Rupture’, Ash strolled into the control room and started hooting into the intercom that it’s time to roll.

“Fucking finally,” Dean grunted and ducked out of his strap. They did things as they came, but bass and drums always were put down first, so he, Lee and Kevin hung back until they were needed.

“Alright, ya idjits. Show me what ya got,” Bobby ordered from his seat beside Ash.

So they did.

Lunch showed up just after two. And, naturally, Dean devoured his sub as quickly as he could, which was when Pamela decided to remember to take pictures for their socials.

Dean rolled his eyes and licked his lips, chewing as the lettuce and mayo collected at the corners. If his hands weren’t full, she would have gotten the bird, but priorities, you know?

“Gross,” Sam replied, laughing.

“Don’t worry, grumpy, I’ll get your good side too,” Pamela teased.

“I’m sure you will,” Sam muttered and cracked open his bottle of water.

Lee balled up his napkin and threw it across the table at Kevin who apparently had been still snapping pictures. “Save it for the session, newbie,” he grunted.

Dean glanced across the room to where Ash and Bobby were talking, both more serious than the last few hours justified. He met Bobby’s eye and held it, knowing he’d find out sooner or later what had the old man extra bristled.

They finished their food and relaxed for another few minutes; they had a good handle on the tracks they were working out. But that still meant hours more until they were tight and Ash had everything he wanted. Even then, Dean made them do more takes, just to be sure. He was a perfectionist, like his father before him, and Phantom Traveler had gotten to where they were with that driving force leading the way.

Sam was the one to rein Dean in. “Look, man, that was it. We had it three rounds ago. I’m beat.”

“Ash?” Dean called back into the control room, not willing to be outvoted without certainty.

“It’s all gravy on my end, Dean-o.”

“Pam?” Dean asked his drummer and part-time mindreader.

“Kevin and Sam can clear out, I think we can hit that intro harder.”

Dean looked at Lee, who sighed, because he knew Pam was right and Dean was just letting her be the bad guy.

“Alright, from the top!” Dean called out and Pamela quickly counted them in.

Sam and Kevin stayed to listen, sipping water and slumped into any free space they could find behind their gear. Sam was stuck, Dean was always his ride. But the kid could duck out whenever he wanted. The fact that Kevin stayed solidified Dean’s faith that he was going to work out. Without Cas, it had been weird. Well, first it was awful, but now that they were here, back making music, what they did best, it was an adjustment.

But Kevin had stepped up and Dean couldn’t deny he was grateful.

No one could fill Cas’ place in the band. But the kid had good hands and on top of that he sang, filling out their harmonies with a higher range. Something Cas never did. So, yeah, it was still weird. But if Dean had learned anything living in California, it was that weird didn’t mean bad.

They tackled the intro until Dean was sick of it. And Lee and Pam both were giving him the stink eye. One final check in with Bobby and Ash and Dean released them for the night.

“Alright, I don’t want to see your faces until Monday at ten,” Bobby explained. “Take the weekend off. Be stupid, but save your voices and your fingers.”

“Awww, he really does care,” Dean snarked, throwing a ball cap over his sweat-damp hair.

Bobby glared. “You’re no good to me sounding like my great aunt Ethel, jackass.”

Kevin laughed and everyone held their breath, impressed and surprised by him openly mocking Dean. But Lee couldn’t hold it in and started laughing too. And by the time Ash and Sam were in on it, Dean was crossing his arms and murdering them all with a look. Pam slinked her arm over his shoulders and patted his back condescendingly.

“I hate you all,” Dean muttered. Eventually he dropped the dramatics before looking over at Sam. “Let’s get outta here already.”

“Yeah, already,” Sam agreed, shaking his head and following Dean back out to the parking lot.

Tagging: @deans-spinster-witch @mrswhozeewhatsis @cosicas-cuquis @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @suckitands33 @ladysparkles78 @deans-baby-momma @stoneyggirl2 @sassy-pelican

Chapter Three: Rest

#dean winchester fanfiction #dean/reader #rockstar au #fake dating au #angst with a happy ending #rockstar!dean #dean winchester/reader #spn fanfic #spn au #spotless series

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harmonity-vibes · 7 months

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Imagine

You're dating Dean, a rock star.

A/n :💓🥵🥵

#fictional characters #imagines #fictional boyfriend #jensen ackles #dean winchester #dean winchester imagines #spn imagine #rockstar #spn #rockstar!dean

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dingo-ate-my-hot-lettuce-crazy · 1 year

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rockstar!dean x rockstar!reader headcanons (1)

I ADMIT I HAVE A PROBLEM- ALL 80 DRS I HAVE... EITHER DEAN OR JENSEN ARE THERE AND IM SCARED TO SEEK HELP BECAUSE IS IT SO BAD??????? no.

anyways <3

FUCKING IMAGINE

im doing multiple scenarios

you are in a band with dean:

hes guitarist (im melting while writing just fyi)

i picture young dean.. BABY DEAN... early 20s

-he definitely fiddles with more metal/rock stuff (maybe throw in some occasional indie/alt rock)... hes got some fire riffs, my guy, like he is musical genius. but dont ask him about music theory....he didnt learn it all the way through but he knows enough to just barely get him by. and dont ask him to play drums because he’ll describe them as *bums* and *tshs* and *tongue click* and *ts ts ts*. man has no expertise there but the thought and effort is there. and anytime he writes music, its not incredibly deep, but its creative. like his rhymes and wordings sometimes have you like ??? damn shawty. but when he does write deep lyrics...he goes absolutely ham. its so fucking emotional that you had no idea where it came from. its 0 to 60 after some decent effort and concentration. hes amazing at what he does

-when yalls band gets bigger and you start performing in arenas and vibes get more and more hype...yall do that thing where your back is against one another while singing or playing another instrument. you both give each other the wildest, happiest smile and start to turn to one another while his solo is coming up and youre building up to a crazy note, and your backs are pressed against one another, and you both start to slide down, deep deep deep into what youre playing. the crowd is absolutely WILD for it, and they made edits of that moment of you two on stage.

-i personally imagine that his aesthetic is kind of the same..his hair looks like his Alec hair from 2002 ish when he was in the dark angel show? i think thats what its called. but its like.. that length and maybe dyed dark brown/black !! more graphic tees, black jeans, jewelry for sure, leather, ripped jeans, MUSCLE TEES- OH SHIT HES TAKING HIS SHIRT OFF ONSTAGE!!!! WHAT THE FUCK HES RIPPED GUYS!?!?!?

sorry,

anyways

-when hes playing something to where he can focus on other things going on, hes watching you 100%. if his eyes arent on you, they are to the band members when you hit a note that he finds impressive and he’s giving them a “holy shit!” look. he loves the all that you give during a show, hes amazed by you.

-imagine his sweaty bangs against his forehead, absolutely soaked, and he’s not even tired. he whips his head back and forth, bops his head up and down, and his hair is everywhere. he is so enveloped in the music, the crowd, his band’s energy that he is on a high. this job is something that makes him so distracted from anything of slight inconvenience, this is his true passion. he was meant to be on that stage.

-maybe he sings backup for you at some point and yall’s harmonies are so incredibly synced. maybe its some Bring Me to Life kind of music yall duet to, but the crowd goes nuts for it every time.

-man is a jumping bean on stage. hes bouncing around all over the place, he is so excited to be doing what he loves. he LOVES interacting with the crowd, jumping down by the pit and running around, sticking his hand out to everyone..he LOVES feeling everybody’s love for the music like he does

-he chooses very sleek looking guitars, nothing super crazy wild. however... if hes BASS guitarist, mans got the most interesting looking bass..that shit is like neon purple and got some crazy designs.

-during rehearsals, when yall are just kinda fucking around, he definitely plays the one spongebob song (12 Street Rag) at random times of silence. he gets everyone to laugh at him. man will be given a countdown to start his riff from the band and he’ll play something totally not part of the set, like:

drummer: alright Dean, im gonna do three count on my sticks, then you start off with the riff, got it?

dean: loud and clear

drummer:ONE TWO THREE

dean: *the one Weezer solo riff thats really high*

drummer: DEAN WHAT THE FUCK

hes a very goofy man. man child. but everyone in the band loves his childlike innocence.

hes drums

-this is his time to unleash EVERYTHING he feels. i like to think he has way over 9 pieces to his drums, this dude needs two snares, clashes galore, toms toms toms toms, he needs a SHIT ton in his guitar kit. he also goes through like.. three sets of sticks a night. he rips them to shreds after a few songs. he definitely gets really hot and sweaty when he plays, so he likes to wear lose tanks, or NOSHIRT, and ripped jeans.

-his inspiration is tommy lee. he wants that same mad man drummer vibe, the complexity in his drumming, his fashion? dean loves it all. except the douchebaggery..deans a good boy, for the most part, and he doesnt have the same ideals as tommy but, he admires his skill 100%

-he definitely prefers more vintage rock drums, he loves the look and character in old, used drums.

-this man waits for people to tell jokes during rehearsal to go “ba dum tis” on his drums. he never fails. hes always listening.

you at guitarist: youre late, where were you?

guitarist: your moms house

dean on drums: *ba dum tis*

you and guitarist: are you fucking serious

dean: :D

-hell do some crazy things with his drums towards the finale... maybe some dyed water or paint so that when he bangs on the drums it splatters and hes a filthy mess later, but hes a happy filthy mess.

-all his broken sticks, he throws to the audience. he loves giving them out. but normally hell keep one stick to himself and write the date and location and he brings them to his tour bus or house

-when hes feeling flirty with you, whenever you walk into rehearsal..hell play the intro drums to Careless Whisper and hum the sax solo...he likes to think hes cute. and to you he is, but hes also a little shit <3

hes the vocalist

-everyone knows who dean is. everyone. man is so popular, he has such a unique voice. he becomes the unintentional face of the band because of how fucking attractive he is, and how crazy his range is.

-he ALWAYS checks on the crowd when hes performing. someone looks faint, or ill, he immediately stops what hes doing and tosses a water to anyone who needs it. he cares so much about his fans

-if youre playing an instrument while hes singing, he always makes his way to you. maybe hell play with you, and grab your chin while hes singing, wraps his arm around your shoulder, dances with you, he loves interacting with you while singing.

-throughout the whole concert, hes going “give it up for these guys!” and hes point to you, and hell shout out everyone and hell tell the audience how much he loves you and the band and how grateful he is.

-when hes singing, hell also run out into the crowd, hug everyone, maybe pass someone a mic, read their signs..again..he LOVES the crowd

-he learns how to say “i love you” & “thank you” wherever yall tour

-loose pants (almost harry style esque but maybe not as flamboyant), tanks, maybe the occasional nice suit

-accidentally messes up lyrics onstage, but then purposefully makes it worse and turns it into a really stupid innuendo, man is one big goof. or hell add in random statements while singing? like such:

dean singing onstage: so baby if you say, you want me to stay...ill change my mind- i love chicken. *continues singing*

so anyways dis is part 1

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hallowshumour · 1 month

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You could hate my guts with the bass turned up. 🔥🎤⚡️‼️

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impmakesart · 1 month

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It's time for the @deancasreversebang 2024! @tsujiharu wrote an amazing fic for my piece, and I think you will all love it! Her characterization of both Cas and Dean is top notch.

A Study in Salvation

#dcrb24 #dcrb2024 #deancas reverse bang #deancas #destiel #bar owner!cas #failed rockstar!dean #this fic is so good you gotta read it <3 #supernatural

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sabbathrose · 2 years

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• (Slash) Live at the Ritz, 1991.

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skeletonea · 14 days

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He can put it all my holes

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valeron99 · 1 year

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They are going to a concert! Hooray!

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charcubed · 1 year

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Hi. I tend to forget that tumblr exists and just shout all my thoughts about The Winchesters on Twitter @CharCubed, which is a problem, but for once in my life I'm posting something here!

Here are some broad Thoughts on where I've landed of what this season 1 finale of The Winchesters offered–

• I very much want season 2 of this show SO badly. I want to see how they all continue to build their lives now that we know tragedy need not be their end! THIS IS THE HEALING SHOW. That whole cast gets to write their own story... "the only thing that's worse than how it starts for a hunter is how it ends" is no longer the case, as Carlos already said... and Dean helped to free them? That fucks.

• In regards to those possibilities: now that Dean would no longer be framing the prequel as a story he's telling, it frees the prequel up to no longer be doubling as Dean's story through revealing mirroring–which is very much what it's been doing for 12 episodes. Now the monster plots and the storylines for those characters in The Winchesters can also be diversified, so every episode no longer has to include, for example... [checks notes] a situation where a character is literally and/or metaphorically trapped and has to confront their trauma, break cycles of violence, and speak truths to be freed. It's been very Loud and very much Like This Constantly because it's Dean's story, but now it won't have to be anymore, which is an interesting thing to contemplate! (To be clear, for those unaware of my history of yelling about this show: I love that it was Like This. This show is fucking genius.)

• Initially, this finale had some alarm bells pinging in my brain but then I parsed the Reasons for those things. Mary told John she had "Something to say," right? And then she never says it. That's a Chekhov's gun that's never fired and it's of course paralleling how Dean has "something to say" to Cas too. Them not speaking that truth is a problem. In addition, we also got a montage eerily akin to the 15x19 one. But these callbacks / parallels to s15 all loudly indicate something very specific: The Winchesters is an unfinished story, and this finale (like the rest of this show) is mirroring and revealing truths about the prime narrative of SPN. For one thing, with the prequel they originally expected to have 22 or so episodes and ended up having 13 to work with. For another... this is the START of their story, not the end. So along those lines, what can we deduce about the end of season 15? (Hint: that finale is not an ending either.)

• Speaking of which: We learn that everything Dean was just doing takes place in the ~heavenly~ time period before Sam “dies." This all functionally happened right after Dean died as he drove down that road. He is restless, unmoored, grieving, and–this is key–considers his "ending" to be an unhappy happy one. He's fucking around and finding out, looking for and unpacking (through his narration) what he needs and wants for HIS happy ending to look like. He found out about the Akrida being a failsafe from Chuck and couldn't resist meddling to save everyone. It's also worth noting that Dean says to Jack something like, "If you have to kick me out of Heaven then that's fine." Between the lines is the thought of "please kick me out of Heaven, I'm causing problems because I'm grieving and I'm not done, I don't want this 'peace' but would rather have freedom." That in itself is a massive subversion of the SPN finale, to say nothing of the previous 12 episodes we've received.

Anyway. So in terms of Dean's story, we now know that this all takes place smack in the middle of 15x20 timeline-wise. This checks out because Bobby's presence connects to him being the only one we saw in 15x20. And... what I personally consider to be Jack's incredibly fucked up or ~potentially taken over by Chuck~ vibes are, in that sense, consistent with 15x19 as well. (I'm so sorry but please let me drop this cursed "Alex Calvert playing Chuck" joke by Jensen from August 2022 which haunts me.)

So: nothing about the concept that @chuckwon at the end of season 15 has been confirmed or denied in canon at this point. The idea that Chuck LOST, as Dean says here, is simply what Dean may still be thinking (which makes sense). But nothing has fundamentally changed about the state of how season 15 left things in the prime narrative yet... largely because that's not what this story is / was about.

In terms of what this finale presented to us, I think "Chuck won" potential was all deliberately left open. And I continue to Call Bullshit on the finale accordingly. A Chuck won plot line COULD be used in a future sequel to great affect, or it could NOT be used in a future sequel. That will be totally up to the future authors / team behind that potential sequel to see what story they choose to tell, and where it all may or may not go. But until then (on that front) right now it's the same shit, different show, and deliberately literally nothing about that potential has changed.

• I LOVE all of the above now that I've parsed it all in my brain. It makes perfect sense. Much like we were never going see the gay angel pop up in this show and kiss Dean (with apologies to anyone who somehow thought otherwise?)... leaving other things open like this is fantastic and the objectively correct call. Dean's story is HIS story to be furthered elsewhere, whereas this show belonged and continues to belong to its cast of characters who must take center stage. But through this story within a story narrated by Dean himself, we learned a hell of a lot about his state of mind as it actively stands in 15x20. Or more accurately: the entire show reinforces and reiterates comprehensively and repeatedly that the SPN finale was wrong and bad and not the end of the story at all, and now canonically and openly and in no uncertain terms that that's how Dean feels too.

• AND THUS: season 1 of The Winchesters works as deeply clever and layered commentary on Supernatural's ending and presents the stepping stone for a sequel continuation for Dean and his family. It's also the beginning of a new chapter with endless potential for The Winchesters' cast of characters who are not tied to fate or main timeline.

I fucking love it here.

Truly, madly, deeply: ALL HAIL ROBBIE THOMPSON.

And seriously, I really hope we get a season 2 because I adore all of the prequel's characters on their own merit and I want to see what their story can become :')

#the winchesters #spnwin #spnwin meta #the winchesters meta #dean winchester #GO LITTLE ROCKSTAR. FUCK SHIT UP #chuck won theory #chuck won meta #char writes things #ON TUMBLR? NO WAY.#I will likely reblog this to the chuckwon blog eventually

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krystalskeleton · 1 year

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1992.11.11 – RAW Magazine Interview with Izzy

Music

"Yeah, music is partially my saving grace. It's been part of my life every day of the week since I was a kid. It doesn't have to be a specific type of music, it can be any type because the whole of it takes you away from the mundane, every day sort of thing.

"Being on tour, I find it like a luxury item because when I'm on tour I don't have a big stereo, I have a Sony player that cost 50 bucks, it's mono and it has this tiny speaker. For the first couple of days I only had my walkman which is fine for airplanes, but otherwise they're a drag. I found myself looking in the window of these shops at these stereos and there was this one in Chicago which was four and a half feet long and three feet tall. It was this boom box with neon lights inside it. It was really freaky looking, but I ended up getting this small Sony because it would fit in my bag, it plays cassettes and it records so I can write songs on it too. I find that if I hear a stereo now, even if it's a PA at gigs and they're playing a tape, it's a luxury and I really enjoy it."

Food

"Indian food and pizza are my favourites. I stopped eating meat a few years ago. I don't eat red meat or chicken, but I eat fish. I stopped eating meat shortly after I stopped drinking and using drugs. I think it was a case of wanting to heal myself a little quicker rather than objecting to meat, plus there were some cases on the West Coast where people were dying after they'd eaten bad meat. I'm big on salads. Salads in America are just a couple of bits of dead lettuce, but over here people are a bit more conscientious.

But Indian food and pizza are my favourites and that's why Chicago is like heaven to me because you can get a pizza delivered at 5am and it's damn good pizza. There's a place there called Mama Mia and they deliver all night long. They've got pizzas that are two inches thick with like a cracker crust with fresh tomatoes on top. "

Drink

"I like mango lassi and sweet lassi from Indian restaurants. My second would be fresh squeezed orange juice. Those are the only things I drink. I gave up drinking because I just had enough of waking up in my own vomit and not remembering who I was hanging out with the night before, getting arrested and all that stuff. Waking up in jail, and that sort of thing became old for me and I finally realised that I had to stop this and figure it all out. It wasn't easy and it took a while. I feel a lot better for not doing it."

Hate

"It's destructive in nature. Sometimes you can get angry, but it usually doesn't help fix anything. If I hate something I just get hung up on it and dwell on it. I find it easier to try and dismiss it. Otherwise it's extra baggage to be carrying around. You see hatred every day on the TV and some other places and that's enough for me, I don't need to live with it anymore."

Rock 'N' Roll

"It's that life blood. You can't put your finger on it. For me it's that other thing that only people who listen to it or love it know what it is. To the rest of the world though it probably doesn't mean shit!(laughs)

" The funniest thing I ever heard in Guns N Roses was from this guy in Canada called Gabe. God, he was hilarious! He said he saw something on English TV once that said no matter how many records Elton John sold in 1976, there were still 40 billion Chinese people that don't give a fuck and that rang so true to me- this was back in '86 so I've always kept it in mind. It's true. If you look at the globe and spin it and put your finger wherever it lands there's people there who don't know what Rock 'N' Roll is. For people who do love it, though, it's their whole life. For me it's very special.

" We used to have Rock 'N' Roll bands come to play at our house when I was a real young kid. My dad used to have these parties and me and my brothers were beer runners. The bands were always downstairs and I always hung out with them. When you're a kid and these guys would show to play stuff on the drums, it was great. They'd play stuff like (Credence Clearwater Revival's) 'Proud Mary'. I was lucky 'cos I got to grow up with that. I've been hooked on that ever since."

Drugs

"It's up to each person. It doesn't do any good to tell people not to do it. If people want to do 'em then they're gonna do 'em. All I can say is for myself they stopped being a good thing. It became a complete pain in the ass. It was destroying me as a person and I got to the point where I decided to give up. It wasn't like I didn't know 'cos you go through a peroid where you know you're tearing yourself up. I knew I had to stop or everything was gonna go down the tubes."

Sex

"It's pretty important, but to a lot of people it's hard to understand that it doesn't mean much unless you care about the person you're with. I'm lucky, 'cos I do."

Love

"It's a great thing. Everybody needs it and wants it. Life can be pretty bleak without it. I've got a German shepherd and I've had him since he was a puppy, ya' know. I bought him when he was just a twerp. He's three years old, he's healthy, he's big and he can run 40 miles an hour and he's great. I love my dog!

"I've had a steady girl for a few years and it's a great thing. Love makes life a lot easier."

Work

" I worked in a car wash when I was 15. I worked where the cars come out and you have to dry the cars off. In the winter time with the wind chill it can be 10 or 20 below zero, and that was real work getting up at five or six in the morning. It was cold and you've got these towels that are freezing and you're washing these fuckers off. Music is more something that you love to do so it doesn't seem like work. The thought of having to get a real job is difficult. I was never that good at keeping a straight job and getting enough money to do what I wanted to do. At the same time I had to work as a kid. If you gotta do it you do it.

" I've had different jobs. I worked in pizzerias and I actually enjoyed that. That was one job that didn't feel like work unless there was a gig or concert that I wanted to go to. In that case I'd leave work early anyway. I actually liked cooking pizzas, flipping the dough and stuff was cool.

"If I had to get another real job I would probably work in a pizzeria, or I'd work in the car wash and I'd be on the front end. The front end is where the guys would pump gas and vacuum the cars, and these guys were always the envy of everyone else who had it rough. This was back in the '70s when people would drive around with big joints in their cars. They'd smoke half a joint and leave the rest so that when one guy pulls up with half a joint in his ashtray, what happens to the joint? It ends up in the pocket of the guys who are up front who'd smoke them! I think I'd rather work in a pizza place though where it's warm and there's music."

Photo © Paul Jendrasiak, 1993

#izzy stradlin #izzy #jeff isbell #jeffrey dean isbell #izzy stradlin and the ju ju hounds #gnr #guns n roses #gunsnroses #gunsnfuckinroses #80s rock #rockstars #80s #90s rock

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eyelinerdean · 4 months

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oh my god dean wanted to be a rockstar. do you think he wrote songs

#fifteen year old dean at sonny’s and robin gifts him a notebook. for all your music she says. for when you’re a rockstar and need teen angst #straight from the source. she wrote it in a little note on the first page.#and god dean is glued to the thing #even when he leaves sonny’s he stuffs it in the bottom of his duffel and takes it out when sam is asleep when dad is out on hunts #and he doodles and he writes recipes he sees on tv and maybe sometimes when he’s really sure #that dad won’t come home and sam won’t wake up. maybe he locks himself in the bathroom and writes a song.#just little snippets of lyrics or ideas or what have you. in honor of the rockstar future he’ll never have #lu.txt #dean winchester

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stusbunker · 1 month

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Spotless: Schleppen

Chapter Sixteen

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Sam/Madison, Lee/Pam/Benny, Jesse/Cesar, Charlie/OFC, unnamed female character

Word Count: 2644

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, everyone is hungover, Dean steps in it, Sam is so done with their shit, unbeta'd

Series Masterlist

Dean didn’t sleep. Or if he did, it was in the last gasps of darkness and so short, he couldn’t feel its relief. Alcohol affects the REM cycle, so whoever taught him to have a drink before bed to help with his insomnia (John) was wrong. It was just one of the many things he’d learned in therapy. Dean found he had many things yet to unlearn.

No one who had stayed over was in any better shape when he got downstairs.

Bela and Trouble had bunkered down on the couch in the den, Charlie had claimed one of the bedrooms with a woodland elf, the other spare went to Pam and Lee, but Dean was pretty sure he had heard Benny through the walls, so maybe him too. The other girl Charlie brought along was on the floor curled around Jesse fruitlessly, because Cesar, who was sitting with his back to the end of the couch, still asleep, held his partner’s head in his lap. He wondered if Sam was already up and running until Madison came down the stairs in search of caffeine with a shirtless and rumpled Sam on her heels.

“Morning,” Dean said smugly to them both.

Madison met his gaze and tried not to blush, which Dean found oddly refreshing, while Sam just flipped him off and dove in for a cup of coffee before it was even done brewing.

They moved in hushed whispers, but the Winchesters’ words were doomed to carry with their baritone. After Madison admonished them for not having more to eat in their fridge, Dean stepped up and ordered a combo of both greasy and sweet options to be delivered with an impressive tip to the driver for their discretion.

Bela helped herself to Dean’s shower and some of his clothes. And if anyone had found it odd that they hadn’t slept together, no one was ballsy enough to mention it. Or maybe they were all just too hungover to care.

He still hadn’t seen Pam and company emerge and he wondered if he was going to have to risk walking in on some alternative hangover cures.

Luckily for everyone, the pounding on the front door for the food was enough to rouse the stragglers and beckon them back to civilization.

“Happy 2018 everybody!” Pam croaked with a shiteating grin on her face as she took in everyone’s subdued state.

She was met with lackluster replies, grumbles and a very sarcastic cheer from Charlie. She tutted at them and sauntered her way towards the jelly donuts.

As rough as he felt, Dean lived for mornings (or early afternoons) like this. His kitchen was filled with people he loved, sharing food and just existing together, safe and warm. It’s what being in a band was all about. He started another pot of coffee when Bela slinked over and hugged him from behind, resting her face between his shoulder blades.

“I’ll just have a nap right here, thanks,” she mumbled against his shirt.

“Oh yeah?” Dean peered down at her. “You know, you can take my bed if you’re still tired, not gonna rush anybody out today.”

“‘S too far,” Bela complained. “And I already showered, no sense delaying the inevitable.”

Dean turned in her arms, letting her rest against his chest instead. He rubbed her back and looked up when he felt someone watching him. You sat folded in on yourself on one of the tall chairs, looking as if you were going to puke all over the counter.

“You okay over there?” Dean asked, more alarm slipping into his voice than the jest he intended. He cleared his throat, but didn’t let go of Bela as she turned to look at who he was talking to.

Gaping at him like a deer caught in the headlights, you nodded.

Dean reminded himself to breathe, feeling everything you were saying by the look in your eyes. He fucked up. But in that moment there was nothing he could say that would fix it. Bela was supposed to be his girl, it would be too obvious to step away from her now.

As much as he suddenly wanted distance, he held on tighter, like she was a shield against his feelings for you. And against the look of betrayal in your eyes.

“When do you want to leave— Y/N?” Bela broke through Dean’s silent spiraling and started making plans to get home.

“Lemme drive you guys— could use some fresh air,” Dean cut in before they could order a ride.

“Are you sure? I’m a little out of the way,” you asked, worried over being a burden or being trapped in a car with him, Dean couldn’t be sure.

“Positive, just say when, and I’ll get Baby all set to go,” Dean insisted.

Bela kissed Dean on the cheek and thanked him for a wonderful time, promising to text him her schedule later. She reached over the backseat to grab your hand, smiling mischievously, “another one for the books. See you at brunch?”

“If I can eat by then,” you muttered, smirking as she slid out of the car.

“Bye!” Bela called as she disappeared through the door from the garage into the kitchen.

Dean cleared his throat and leered at you in the rearview mirror.

“You gonna come up here or am I gonna have to call you Miss Daisy?”

You rolled your eyes at him, but you didn’t open your door.

“I can wait all day. If you think you can out- stubborn me–,”

“FINE!” you snapped, throwing open the door and almost slamming it into Bela’s car’s rear end. “Asshole.”

Dean tried not to laugh outright, but you were kind of adorable when you were pissed. Once you were situated in the passenger seat, purse and coat lumped on your lap and seat belt secured, Dean continued to wait.

“What?! We can go now.”

“Easy! I’m just adjusting my mirrors, don’t want to back into anything,” Dean added with an air of responsibility.

“You so were not,” you grumbled, huffing before leering at the sideview as Dean crawled out of Bela’s driveway.

It was going to be a long drive.

Once they were out of the canyon, Dean decided he was going to have to put some of those lessons from Missouri to use. “So— you wanna talk about it?”

You glared at him like he asked if you wanted to eat your jacket.

“Come on, I know you’re pissed. Let me have it,” Dean egged you on, okay, maybe he could have said that better.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you muttered, eyes on your hands.

“Really? You gonna pretend you’re not having a bitchfit right now?”

“Dean Henry Winchester, do not make me call Charlie and tell her you called me a bitch.” And just like that you were all in. “I cannot believe you right now.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“No, look, you can’t just go around kissing people and then shoving your relationship in their faces. It’s called mixed signals, asshole!”

“Oh, so you can call me an asshole, but I can’t call you names?!”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “It’s not the same and you know it.”

Dean sighed, he was letting himself get defensive instead of focusing on what you were really saying. It suddenly felt like a horrible idea to have this conversation when neither of you could escape.

“I don’t know what relationship you’re talking about— the fake dating thing you roped me into?! Cuz that’s not real, that’s playing nice— for you!” Dean hadn’t realized how much he resented you for this whole set up, but now that the words were out of his mouth, things made a lot more sense.

“Bullshit,” you spat.

“You want me to ignore her, huh? Pretend she’s not there, in front of everybody this could hurt if it gets out that it’s all a lie?!”

You turned on him then, taking a deep breath as Dean made sure he wasn’t too distracted to drive. “Is it a lie?”

Dean looked back at the road and licked his lips. How much did you know? How much was it safe to tell you? How much of Bela’s life was private, even from you?

“What are you talking about?! Of course it’s a lie, an act, a ruse! You were the mastermind here, remember?!”

“You know what, Dean? I think the lady doth protest too much,” you said. “I think you know it was wrong to do what you did, but now you’re trying to pin this on me. When I only did it to cover your ass!”

“That is so not fair. I own my shit. What are you really pissed at here? Me in general? Me kissing you? Me hugging Bela? Me making your job harder? WHAT?!”

You groaned. “YES! Okay? YES!”

You stopped your tirade and looked at him and Dean felt you deflate as he glanced back onto the road ahead.

You started over, trying for calm, “you are inherently annoying, I think we both know that.”

Dean huffed. “Yeah, thanks.”

“No, listen. I knew this thing wasn’t going to be easy— for any of us. But it’s the best way to turn everything around. But— if you can’t do it anymore, if there’s something you need to tell me, I’ll understand. We’ll figure it out, okay? Just— just don’t lie to me, okay? I can’t fix things if I don’t have the whole story.”

Dean felt about two inches tall. He wiped his hand down his face and growled, pissed at himself and whatever you were fishing for. Because it was still all his fault. Somehow, he had gotten you home, he pulled into the driveway and killed the engine.

“I can do it, okay? This is on me. I’ll make it right. I’ll be on my best behavior, get us out on tour without a hitch. Make the label all the money and start to earn back everybody’s respect. I owe them all that much,” Dean promised to your suspicious face.

“Dean—”

“What?”

“Is there anything I should know? Seriously. I won’t be pissed. I just— feel like, like I’m out of the loop on this.”

“You were there all night. I think you got a good idea how things are going. Uh, what more can I say, you know? I’m sorry, though, for making you worry. Okay?” Dean ducked his head, making sure you were seeing him, eyes trying to make you see what he couldn’t say, but what he most definitely felt.

Maybe he hadn’t learned anything from Missouri at all. But he was still trying.

“If you’re sure— we’ll keep it going. We've still got over a month before we’re on the road, but it’s gonna go fast now. I just need you to be on your A game,” you said firmly, cementing it into the fabric of your shared reality.

Just keep carrying on.

Dean could do that. He had to.

“Sounds like a plan. And Trouble, do me a favor?” Dean leaned over, slipping into his charming self. “You gotta loosen up, okay? Get a hobby, get laid, just find somewhere to put all this shit you carry so it’s not weighing you down. Okay?”

You sighed and rolled your eyes, tossing the door open and crawling out. “Like it’s that easy. Happy New Year, Dean, drive safe.”

“Later.”

Dean waited until you made it into the house before starting the engine back up. He didn’t go home right away, instead he took a drive along the coast, letting his mind try and untangle the knot you’d just made by having that conversation.

Six am came way too early the following morning and with it, Sam pounding on Dean’s door to get his ass downstairs and into the gym. Right, his New Year’s resolution and his fucking brother holding him to it.

“Gotta piss, calm down Billy Blanks,” Dean groaned, rolling out of bed.

He did his business, changed into something he could move around in, and finally found some tennis shoes at the back of his closet.

By the time he made it into the part of their basement they had turned into a gym, Sam was already sweating with a jump rope warm up.

“What?! I’m here aren’t I? It’s not that late,” Dean grumbled at Sam’s judgey face.

They worked out with little discussion, spotting each other when they moved onto weights. They hadn’t worked out the details of this new shared routine, but slowly Dean felt it falling into place. The strain of his muscles and the swelling of his lungs all reminded him to be present and mindful. To let his body take over building when his mind wanted to use it to punish.

After they had stretched and were winding down, Dean decided to tape up his hands and spend some time on their speed bag. But, of course, that drew Sam’s attention.

Anything that hinted at Cain or Alastair always did.

“What?”

Sam looked him over. “You good?”

Dean didn’t want to have a different version of the trainwreck conversation the day before. But Sam knew everything, more or less anyway. Dean didn’t look up from his task, mesmerized by how soft his knuckles had gotten recently.

“I kissed Trouble.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Sam laughed, actually, genuinely laughed at him. “How’d that go?”

Dean considered the act itself. “Well—- she didn’t hit me.”

Sam sat down on the end of the bench, settling in for the dirt. “Were you expecting her to?

Dean looked over and saw Sam was no longer teasing. “Could you blame her? Some guy like me? A fuck up with a history of diddling her friends?”

“Dean.”

“I know, I know. Believe in myself. I am worthy of love. I know, okay. Just… she didn’t say anything. Just stood there after pulling away, staring at me in total shock.”

“Did she kiss you back?”

Dean thought about it, remembering the way your mouth let him in. “At first, yeah.”

Sam chewed that over. “Does Bela know how you feel about her?”

“Sam, I’m not even sure how I feel about her.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah you are. You just have been too stupid and self deprecating to do anything about it. Does she?”

Dean shook his head.

“Are you guys fucking?”

“Not like, committedly.”

“Okay, well, you should probably stop that. And tell Trouble how deep you’re in it. Like, I hate being alone with you two, it’s so obvious.”

Dean flipped Sam off.

“What? No, I’m serious. You guys just need to get over your shit and tell each other how you feel. And warn me, because I do not want to come home for like a week after all those years of tension is finally worked out, god.”

Dean kind of gets lost in that image for a minute. “Nah, we’d go to her place. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Sam couldn’t even tease him after how pathetic he sounded. “But first you need to tell her.”

Dean sighed. “I can’t. I promised her I’d behave and stick to the plan. I can’t risk pissing off Dick and Crowley anymore, I don’t want to jeopardize the band.”

“I’m pretty sure I told you this was a bad idea and I just want to reiterate that point,” Sam snarked.

“Yeah, well, them’s the breaks,” Dean huffed as he hauled himself up and squared off with the hanging bag.

He found a rhythm and kept on his toes.

“Dean, seriously, just tell her how you feel. Life’s too short, you know?” Sam said to Dean’s back.

Dean sighed, upping his pace. Because, yeah, life was really too short.

But there was still nothing he could do about it now.

Author's Note: LISTEN! I did not even outline the first 2/3rds of this chapter. IT just HAPPENED, so yeah, they're still both idiots.

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