no one ever really talks about sam and his parents you know

Why the SPN mixtape scene from 12x19 is screenwriting gold, and should be taught to the next generations of screenwriters everywhere - analysis

20 seconds. Two lines of dialogue, three gestures, a couple more camera angles. Episode 19, season 12 of a genre TV show “Supernatural”. A single strike of screenwriting and cinematic genius. The mixtape scene.

Robert Berens and Meredith Glynn, I bow before you.

This scene should be used as an example for future screenwriters how you can put maximum of meaning into minimal time and dialogue. Should be analyzed and taught at universities everywhere, how to achieve the most using the least. How to write for TV, where you only have less than an hour to built something spectacular.

WOW.

Let’s just peel off all the layers of these 20 seconds of footage and these 13 words. 13 WORDS.

(Cas knocks, Dean doesn’t say anything. Cas opens the door, apologizes for disturbing Dean in his room, and then takes a cassette tape out of his left inside coat pocket, and puts it on the desk, while tapping the label on it that says “Deans (sic!) top 13 Zepp traxx”.)

Cas: Um, I just wanted to return this.

Dean: It’s a gift. You keep those.

13 tracks. 13 words. The future. So number thirteen is important for the future. I mean, are you trying to tell us something here, writers?

(Dean takes the tape, oustreches his arm, and gives it back to Cas. We see Cas’ hand grabbing the tape, and taking it back.)

That tiny scene is ENORMOUS from the perspective of the narrative and the characterization. Let’s see what we can get out of it. (Prepare yourself: it’s gonna be long. Damn, how much meta can you write based on 20 seconds of television and two lines of dialogue?) (Hint: A lot.)

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The parallel to end all parallels

Okay guys, listen up, because I’m about to fuck you up with some knowledge.

So we all know under Dabb’s reign, we’ve seen a multitude of parallels. Season 12 has been chock-full of callbacks from earlier seasons: characters, scenes, props, etc. We saw it with the colt, with Mary’s return, Bobby’s return, “[insert parent name here] went on a hunting trip, and [they] haven’t been home in a few days”. We’ve had Dean and Cas paralleled with Sam and Eileen, Dean and Cas paralleled with Cain and Colette, Dean referred to as Cas’s “human weakness” by Ishim…I mean really, at this point they’re endless. I could make hundreds of posts about the parallels, particularly in regard to Dean and Cas, but I won’t because frankly, there are better meta writers than me on the tumblrverse and they’ve already been done to death.

see @tinkdw and @ibelieveinthelittletreetopper, seriously those guys’ blogs have some seriously incredible information, metas, and I thoroughly enjoy reading literally everything they have to say.

What I want to talk about is Cas’s last scene in the finale. Here we see Cas enter the alternate universe, despite Sam and Dean already being there and having a plan for locking in Lucifer, and stabbing Lucifer, right before Cas’s death scene.

Originally posted by bridget-malfoy-stilinski-hale

So I’ve seen a lot of people complaining about this scene and how Cas’s death was completely unnecessary and avoidable. That it was used strictly for the “man pain” we hear so much about, so we can watch the boys once again mourn the death of one of their friends. I agree, to an extent. His death absolutely was avoidable, also necessary because Destiel story arc, but here I believe Dabb knew what he was doing. Remember those parallels we talked about ^^?

So why? If Cas is coming back, like we now definitively know, why take the time and effort to include this scene? Because really, it was pointless. Lucifer could’ve killed Cas straight out of the portal without Cas ever entering, and it would’ve served the same purpose, and raised no questions. Because hey, shit happens, and Cas is almost always on the negatively receiving end of it. So why, Dabb? Why shoot this particular scene that seemingly makes no sense and had everyone questioning Cas’s intentions?

Come. Take my hand. Let me show you.

Dabb literally, intentionally, oh-so-deliberately, shot this scene:

To act as a parallel for this scene:

I REPEAT:

DABB DELIBERATELY SHOT THIS SCENE FOR THE SOLE PURPOSE OF DRAWING A PARALLEL BETWEEN SAM AND JESS AND CAS AND DEAN.

IT IS THE EXACT SAME SCENE. THE SAME STRUGGLE. ALMOST IDENTICAL DIALOGUE. THE SAME FUCKING FRAMING, FFS!

and before you say, no wait, your hopefulness, Jess doesn’t come back, this makes for a sad ending, stop, no, what are you doing??

YOU ARE MISSING THE BLATANTLY GAY POINT

Dabb recreated the first scene of the show with Dean and Cas. He intentionally paralleled Sam’s canonical relationship with his girlfriend to Dean’s canonical subtextual relationship with Cas.

Further, the scene with Sam and Jess marked the beginning of the series, the beginning of Sam rejoining his brother in the family business, but also the unfortunate end of his relationship with the woman he loved. If you look at this reversed (much in the same way Cain said to Dean about how he was living his life in reverse), that would mean that this could possibly be hinting at the end of the show, but also the beginning of Dean’s relationship with the man angel he loves.

I mean, I’m not saying that Destiel is endgame…but fuck. Destiel is endgame.

Originally posted by imthehuman

13 Reasons Why (Tape 1)

Characters: Dean, sister!reader, Mary, Sam, John

Warnings: mention of death, angst, swearing

Word count: 4139

Summary: Dean listens to the first tape that you left after you died. He learns about the rules he has to follow with them, and who the first cause of your decision was.

A/N: italics are flashbacks to the events before your death

Series: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Dean woke up around 5am on Monday morning. It had been three months since you, his 18 year old sister, had decided to take your own life. Him and Sam never got a note, you were just gone and that was all they knew. They were too late to save you and that bothered him. Every morning since that day he woke up at 5am. He realised there was no going back to sleep so he climbed out of bed and headed to the door. When he opened the door he was surprised to be greeted with a small box in front of his feet. Dean looked left and right and noticed Sam wasn’t around to have just placed the box there. He sighed, picked it up, shut his door and walked back to his bed.

As he opened up the box he was confused as he noticed that all was inside were tapes. Why would someone give him a box of tapes? Dean rummaged through the box on his shelf and found his old tape player that John had given him when he was a kid and wanted to listen to AC/DC. He put the first mysterious tape inside the player and pressed play.

“Hello,” the familiar voice that he hadn’t heard for three months spoke which almost hurt his ears to know that he could hear in tape form. He must have been mistaken… It couldn’t be!

“My name is Y/N Winchester,” your tape continued. “I’m about to tell you the story of my life. More specifically, why my life ended… And if you’re listening to this tape,” The tape paused for a moment and Dean waited in suspense. “You’re one of the reasons why.”

He pulled the headphones off his head and sat there for a moment. He couldn’t believe the voice or words he was hearing. How could this be real? How could he really be hearing it? Having to listen to the voice of his deceased sister was hard for him, but the only way to find out more was listening to the tapes… So he continued. It wasn’t a fast decision, he took a breath and thought about just throwing them away. But then he would never know the reason why. This was like your suicide note, only in the form of 13 tapes.

His shaky hands picked up the headphones and placed them carefully on his head. He pressed play on the tape player and continued to listen. “As there are to every story, there are 13 different sides to this. I’m going to tell you all of them. Each tape is based on one of the people that are the reason my life ended. So, once you’ve listened to all the tapes you need to pass these on to the next person. If you don’t, well, just know that someone is always watching every single one of you and will make sure that all the tapes are listened to by every person. Now that you understand.. Let me begin with my first tape.”

Dean closed his eyes and followed the story you were telling. “First up, we have the thing that started it all… It was a normal day for you maybe, but not me at all. I didn’t know about hunting or any of that, not until you told me. I went to find you after mom had said she saw you earlier that day, I thought maybe it would be a chance for me to meet my father for the first time. Incase you hadn’t figured it out by now, we have our first person of the story. Welcome to your tape, John.”

Dean realised that John could have been the one these tapes outside of Dean’s room. He almost forgot that both of his parents now lived in the bunker with him and Sam. John must have listened to the tapes before him. Or maybe it was Mary? Since you died they both acted weirdly around both the boys, but then again, Mary acted strangely around you anyway so maybe she had something to do with all of this. He didn’t have time to think as the tape continued to play and tell Dean the story of what happened to you.

* * *

You were a nervous wreck ever since you joined your father and his two sons. Your mom insisted on you moving in with John so that you could bond and get to know your father after all those years of wishing you knew him. You knew it wouldn’t be easy meeting him when the day came, but you never expected it to be that hard.

He told you all about hunting and all his excuses of why he left you and your mother. They were stupid and you hated listening to him explaining, you needed someone to take your anger out on and that person was John. You needed to scream and shout at him every now and then for small things just so you could release some of the pain that he made you feel for most of your life.

But that shit didn’t fly with John, you either did as he said or you were gone. “It’s my way or the highway,” you recalled him saying to you a few times after your arguments. Sam and Dean didn’t live with John really, it was more like John lived with them, along with Mary Winchester. They owned this thing called the Men Of Letters Bunker. The place was huge, so many bedrooms you couldn’t count, you could have sworn you found a new room there everyday.

Before John moved in here, him and his wife (who was also the two boy’s mother) had come back to life after so many years. They didn’t fit into the word exactly so they relied on hunting as what kept them grounded. Sam, Dean, John, Mary and you. That’s how it was. Of course, being the youngest meant that you had to follow everyone’s rules and it was for your own ‘safety.’

* * *

“For my own safety? That was complete bullshit,” you spoke smoothly through Dean’s headphones. “You just wanted someone to boss around, dad. You couldn’t control Sam and Dean anymore, so you made sure that you could completely control me. Before that I didn’t have anyone controlling me, I could do what I wanted and act however I thought was right for me. You took that from me… That’s where it all started going down hill, it’s where I started to break.”

Dean once again paused the tape. He checked his nightstand and saw that it was now 6am. How had time moved so quickly? How long had it taken him to listen to this short part of the tape? He knew he had taken it out at the beginning because it was too hard to listen to, but he never knew he was stalling for so long.

A break from this right now seemed appropriate. So, he took the headset off, left it on his bed and headed to the kitchen to get something to eat. Every step he took felt heavier than the last. This wasn’t something new, it had been happening ever since you took your life, but now it was hitting him harder. It made every movement more painful than they had been before; he didn’t even know that was possible until now.

Once he reached the kitchen, he was pleasantly surprised to see that Mary, John and Sam were already there and eating breakfast. Sam was still at the stove, finishing up cooking some eggs and the rest of the bacon while John and Mary sat opposite each other and ate what they already had. “Dean,” John said by surprise. “You’re up later than usual.”

“It’s 6am,” Dean replied with a gravelly voice that he always had when he was tired. Lately, it seemed to be the only voice he had.

“You’re usually up at around 5,” John noted. Sam came and sat down next to Mary at the table and placed a plate down for himself and for Dean.

“You hungry?” Sam asked and Dean joined them at the table. “How you holding up?”

“I feel… Different to what I have for the last few months,” Dean replied to his little brother. “You know, I actually woke up at 5am again today. I stayed in my room because I found something left outside my door.”

All of their eyes widened as Dean spoke. They looked at each other before John spoke. “So she finally finished listening to them.”

“What? Who?” Dean questioned as he squeezed his fork tightly in his hand.

“We can’t talk about this,” Mary recalled before picking up a piece of bacon from her plate and eating it.

“You can’t do that to me! Who are you talking about?!” Dean demanded as he threw his fork down.

“The last person that had the tapes,” John told him which earned a glance from Mary and Sam.

“The tapes… You’ve all listened to them?” Dean looked around at them all. They were faces of the people he knew, they were his family. But they all felt so unfamiliar, like strangers with secrets.

“We can’t talk about it, you need to listen to the tapes,” Sam finished before taking his plate over to the trash can and throwing his food away.

“Are any of you on there? Who is the ‘she’ that you’re talking about? Is it someone else on the tapes?” Dean asked quickly, not giving them time to answer any of them as he continued. “Are you all on the tapes?”

“Dean, we can’t,” Mary snapped. “You have to just listen to the tapes, everyone on there had to.”

He stood up and made his way to the exit of the kitchen but stopped in his tracks.

“It’s hard to listen to,” Dean admitted with a sad voice. He stood in the door way as he spoke to them. “It’s the voice of my dead sister.”

“Dean!” John hissed. He looked at his son standing in there, he looked so heartbroken and vulnerable. “Please son, just listen to the tapes.”

Dean glared at them all. If looks could kill, they would all be dead in a second. He stormed off and went back to his room, it turned out he didn’t get any food or a drink to soothe his feelings of anxiety right now. He returned in the same state he was in before. Dean placed the headset back on his ears and continued to listen to John’s tape.

“But that wasn’t all, was it dad?” You questioned rhetorically. “No, you did more than just boss me around. When you realised you couldn’t do it anymore, you did the only thing that you thought you could do to end the lack of control…”

* * *

It was a few months after you had moved into the bunker and began your training to become a hunter. It wasn’t the physical side of it all because you already knew how to fight after your countless years of being bullied at school. That’s why the boys and your dad were so okay with you going hunting with them; they knew you could take care of yourself.

It was the research of it all. You weren’t used to connecting the dots with how certain monsters acted or what they did with how the victims had died. You gradually became better at it, but you weren’t as good as your brothers because they grew up doing it. You knew that. You understood that.

John didn’t seem to though. All he did was compared you to Sam and Dean and demanded that you become a smarter person. That wasn’t something you could just do, you can’t just snap your fingers one day and get what you want. You have to work for shit like that, it takes time and patience… But those were two things that John lacked.

It was that one day in the motel you were all staying in. The report in the paper said that the bystanders smelled sulphur after the woman was attacked. That was easy enough to figure out, right? Wrong. You weren’t trained enough in the mythology of monsters and you had no idea that sulphur was a sign of demons. You read past it and said there was nothing in there that could have been your kind of thing.

John insisted that you had missed something, just like he always did. You hated when you had to look for cases in the paper. Either you would misjudge it and say you had found a case or you would read past it too quickly and not realise that there was your kind of thing going on. No. You never got it right, so John always checked.

He held the paper in his hand as he sat opposite you at the small table in the motel. You watched nervously as his eyes scanned over the front page and read about the current murder spree going around. “Jesus Christ,” he groaned as he slammed the paper down on the table. “You’re kidding me right, Y/N? You don’t see a case here?”

“Uh, no, sir,” you replied shakily. Sam and Dean noticed your worry from where they were sitting on the beds. Mary was currently out on a supply run.

“It says here the by passers could smell sulphur,” John stated as he looked over at his sons.

“So what are we thinking, a demon?” Dean asked while he continued to clean his gun.

John clicked his tongue and Dean’s answer as if it was obvious. “Exactly… A demon.”

“A demon?” You questioned as you looked between all of them.

“The smell of sulphur is an instant alert for a demon,” Sam told you with a smile. He didn’t mind teaching you, he actually enjoyed it. He liked passing on his knowledge with you and helping you become a better hunter. He had patience… John didn’t.

“Yeah,” John snapped. “Every hunter should know that.”

You hated when he got like this because you instantly knew it was a dig at you and you were tired of it. The boys saw nothing of it because they didn’t pay enough attention. That’s why they thought you were in the wrong when you snapped back.

“Well, I’m still new at this so you can’t expect me to know everything,” you hissed which got John’s back up. You were glad it pissed him off, it was time that he took you seriously.

“You do not speak to your father like that!” He shouted as he stood from his chair and pushed it back aggressively.

You stood up too so you could regain dominance in the conversation. “What kind of father are you? I barely even know you!”

“This isn’t about me,” he replied with a steady tone.

“Yes it is!” You screamed. “This is about you… This is about what you didn’t do. You weren’t there because you were too busy hunting with your other family. And yes, I know that you died when I was a kid, but even when you came back to life you didn’t bother looking for me.”

“I thought we were past this,” he growled with flared nostrils.

“We are. We are past this,” you lied. You weren’t over it, but you had to pretend you were for the sake of everyone else. “I’m not reminding you about it because I’m hurt, I’m reminding you because you need to understand my point of view. I’m not good at researching cases with you because I was never here for it. And you’re not good at being a father to me because you were never there.”

When you finished your statement it was as if the world stopped for a minute. You came to terms with what you had said and realised that you meant it; John wasn’t as accepting towards the statement as you were. The boys both gasped as they saw John’s hand being drawn back.

Before you could react to his movement, John’s hand made harsh contact with your cheek. It was enough force that if pushed you to the floor. You breathed heavily as you stood up; you were holding your hand against your cheek in disbelief.

“You asshole!” You growled as your stood on your feet. “You fucking asshole!”

“What the hell is going on?” Mary demanded as she walked through the door. “Y/N? What happened to your face?”

“It was dad! He slapped me!” You screamed. “You’re a dick, how could you?!”

“Dad, you crossed the line,” Sam said. “You don’t hit your kids.”

“Things just got out of hand,” Dean insisted. “They should never have gone this far, you need to talk about this and sort it out because this shit has been going on for too long. All you do is argue with each other over the smallest things.”

“Dean! He hit her!” Sam defended as he stood up in annoyance.

“We’ve all hit each other! Hell, we’ve tried to kill each other before,” Dean recalled. You couldn’t believe Dean would actually try and defend his father, you thought he had changed.

“Why are you defending him?!” You fumed.

“I’m not,” Dean said calmly. He put his arms up in defence as he continued to talk. “All I’m saying is we have all done terrible things to each other, our family is messed up. This is something that’s needs to be dealt with and then we move on.”

You scoffed at his words. John looked down at you the same way he always did, his eyes full of hatred and boiling with anger. “There’s nothing to talk about. I want you gone, Y/N.”

“But-”

“No!” John spat. “I want you gone, get the fuck out of here. Go back to living with your mom, the hunting life isn’t for everyone and you’re most definitely not meant to be a hunter.”

You couldn’t believe the words that were leaving his mouth. You looked at your brothers and saw that even they didn’t know what to say. You grabbed your things, threw them into a backpack and walked out like you weren’t even bothered. But of course you were. You were so desperate for one of them to follow you and beg you to come back… But no one ever did.

* * *

“You hit me in the face. It hurt. But not as much as it hurt when you hit me with rejection and hatred. You wanted me gone… I hated you, John, more than I had ever hated anyone. You felt the same way about me and I wasn’t going to stick around for that so I headed back to my moms.”

Dean once again removed the headphones and paused the tape. There wasn’t long left of this tape but it was so hard for him to listen to. He checked his clock on his nightstand once again and saw that it was now 1:35pm. Food. He needed food.

Another walk to the kitchen with pain in his steps led to a nervous feeling in his stomach. What John had done to you was so bad, what if Dean’s was worse? What if he had hurt you but had no idea that it had affected you so badly? Dean was pulled out of his thoughts when he saw his father sitting alone at the kitchen table and drinking a beer.

“Hey, son,” he said with a soft voice. “You doing ok?”

“I’m great,” Dean snapped. “I won’t talk to you and piss you off though, I don’t wanna get a beating.”

John sighed and rubbed his palm over his face. “You listened to my tape.”

“I haven’t finished it yet,” Dean shook his head. “It’s still hard to listen to.”

John didn’t reply to what Dean said, he just took another swig of his beer and stared at the wall. Dean went to the fridge and pulled out some left over bacon that was cooked that morning. He put the plate in front of him and his father at the table as he came and sat opposite him. “Stop staring at the wall and look at me,” Dean demanded. John looked at the disappointment in his sons eyes. “Feeling sorry for yourself won’t bring her back.”

Now he saw something in John that he had never let him see before. It was weakness. “I remember that day,” Dean continued. “I remember that I defended you when you hurt her because I was scared that what you did would make her leave. I was selfish and I wanted her to stay so I tried to justify what happened.”

“Son-”

“I’m not finished,” Dean snapped. “What you did drove her away from our family… The only reason she came back was because she had nowhere else to go after she went home and found her moms dead body. If you didn’t send her away she would never had seen that.”

“You don’t think I know that!” John shouted which caught Dean by surprise. He sighed as he realised his anger had once again got the better of him. “Dean-” his voice was steady and low, “-the reason I did that to her was to protect her.”

“You hit her to protect her?” Dean demanded.

“I pushed her away to protect her,” John said as tears began to form in his eyes. “Before I slapped her I kept snapping at her and being nasty to her because I wanted her to leave so she could be safe. I knew that if I told her that she wouldn’t leave, and no matter how many times I shouted at her or was a complete dick to her she would just get upset… But she would stay. I had to do something that would finally make her leave; I had to make her think that I hated her so that she would hate me. If she stayed with us she would have continued to hunt and I wanted better for her.”

John wiped his tears away before drinking more of his beer. It was as if he thought the alcohol would soothe the sting, but it only made it worse. “I loved my baby,” he cried. “She was my only daughter and she made me proud every day. I’ll never get a chance to tell her that.”

Dean shook his head. He understood why John did what he did and he sympathised with him, but it didn’t matter. That wouldn’t bring you back. It wouldn’t fix anything. “She’s dead because you were too scared to love her.”

Dean didn’t plan on saying it, it was just a thought that popped into his head but he needed to get it out. Secrets were one of the reasons you ended your life, he didn’t want to keep them anymore.

John had no idea how to respond to Dean. How could someone reply to that? He was one of the causes of his daughters death because he was a coward. Dean didn’t even know what to think anymore. He needed to know more. He had one more bite of the bacon before he put the plate back in the fridge and headed back to his room.

They were still there when he got back. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but he was hoping that the tapes weren’t real and that you were still there in the bunker. When you moved in you told him that you wanted your room next to his so you could knock on the wall if you wanted to talk to each other.

He picked the tape player up, it felt colder than when he last held it. A chill shot down his spine as he thought about the tapes again and how they were all you left behind. Your voice played again in his ears.

“After you kicked me out, dad, I went back for my mom. I ran in to my house, crying my eyes out because of what you did. I wanted comfort from my mom,” you explained. “She was all I needed right at that moment because in my whole life she was all I ever had. But I never got to speak to her… I went into her room and found her covered in blood. She didn’t move… Or breathe… She did nothing.”

Your voice broke as you spoke about your mothers death and Dean closed his eyes at the thought. “And this, ladies and gentlemen, brings me to my second tape. And you know who you are when I say that on my next tape, we’re going to talk about the person that murdered my mother.”

Tags ~

@jarpadobrien @thejulietfarciertlove @bluecookiesandbooks @little-miss-padfoot @thisnoticeisnotworthnoticing @catcherofdreams22 @fabulouslycassie@uchihababeee @lust-for-pan @weirdrandomunknownperson @you-didnt-see-that-cuming @thegreatficmaster @chloemwinchester

Age is but a Number, Love is Infinite

Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,775

Warnings: age difference(nothing underage the reader is 21), language, implied sexy times

Request: Hey it’s ok if you don’t wanna do this but I was wondering if you could write a fic where Dean is his current age and the one reader just turned 20 but like her and Dean have known each other for a long time and have been together for a while and other people always say stuff about their relationship but they’re still just really happy together, maybe w/ a bit of smut?

A/N: I changed a few things like I said I would but overall I think I got what you wanted!! Shout out to @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid for being an awesome beta!! I hope you all like it and feedback is always appreciated!!! :D

Originally posted by frozen-delight

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Why Atypical is Crap- from an Actual Autistic Person

In case you dont already know Atypical is a hot load of garbage (although this shouldn’t really come as a surprise considering how wonderfully Netflix has dealt with mental health in the past) here is my personal run through.  

This is dedicated to the 100 beautiful porn bots that follow my blog, I’m sure you’ll all appreciate this. If any actual autistic people find this though (and if you manage to read through all this crap), I’d appreciate your pov as well since i probably won’t even cover a tenth of what’s wrong (esp considering I’ve only watched the first episode, but take this as first impressions, if you will). 

  • Apparently autism is synonymous with stupidity, but this isn’t much of a surprise since this has become the sweet new meme among edgy 4chan users. 
  • Autistic people are completely gullible and lack any critical thinking whatsoever
  • Only white straight cis men can be autistic (only). It doesn’t matter they are primarily the only demographic shown with autism and this has been the state of things for far too long, or that we desperately need representation for autistic people who are poc, women or lgbt+ (especially considering that girls are frequently misdiagnosed to the point that some medical professionals- medical professionals- refuse to diagnose girls with autism at all, or that many poc struggle to get a diagnoses or even a review because of racist teachers or psychologists)
  • He’s tech savy bc we all know that if he wasn’t interested in computers he wouldn’t be autistic (though i can say that i do appreciate the fact his main special interest is biology and the antarctic, although it still follows the same STEM stereotype)
  • His sister constantly bullies and makes fun of his symptoms (but she defends him against other people so it’s okay) dad can’t relate bc he doesn’t play sports and just generally acts like he hasn’t realised or got over the fact that his son’s autistic (despite living with him for what? 17 yrs???), mum is a typical Autistic Mum™ who is burdened with her godawful son, both parents heavily imply life would be better without him. Not to mention the mother is v. paranoid about him having any kind of independence, bc he ‘can’t survive without them’They have stereotypical Autistic Family™ down to an art, congratulations Netflix for being so revolutionary, because god forbid autistic people actually have a supportive family or group of friends that dont constantly make fun of them and emphasise how much they make their lives a burden. (btw, im not saying that every autistic kid’s family has to be perfect; but their family could  at least treat them with some dignity and not do what every other ableist show has done)
  • He has zero self awareness, and of course he can’t date or do anything well without being heavily dependent on a nt. (Can I also emphasise that im not saying autistic people dont have these symptoms, just that they are used so often that its a huge stereotype and is portrayed as a crude caricature) 
  • He can’t date what a surprise never seen that one before netflix we already know autistics are r*t*rds that can’t date of course they can't 
  • The stupid as fuck instance when his psychiatrist asks for his brain??? How did they think that was ok?? (and even if it was, it’s totally impractical and ignores the fact that there are plenty of older -and already dead- autistic people who are, you know, not 60+ years away from dying
  • He can only ever talk about his special interest because autistics never talk about anything else you know never. 
  • ‘i can see your bra’ ??? (again, caricature)
  • there’s so much that bugs me but its hard to articulate sometimes so again, if there’s an autistic person who has seen this crap and has something to add i’d really appreciate it.
  • also apparently it was written by non-autistic people (am i surprised??) and the cast isn’t autistic. I dont think i have to go into how fucking stupid this is, considering it’s A STORY ABOUT BEING AUTISTIC AND NO ONE WHO HAS WORKED ON IT IS AUTISTIC. How the fuck do people think making this shit was a good idea?? 
  • ‘every time the phone rings’ (suchhhh a burdennnn, he’s not the same as themmm)
  • Sam is another Sheldon
  • The thing i hate the most about the show is the level of condescension. I feel like the protagonist is presented as the same caricature, straight white guy who is afraid to talk to girls, nerdy and smart but without an ounce of independence, never speaks up for himself and is a collection of all the stereotypes we’ve seen before, he lacks any nuances what so ever. He is another autistic character written by neurotypical people.
  • apparently also their only form of research was talking to autistic kids (bc you know we’re so r*t*rded that we’re all the same, regardless of age) and parents
  • Autism Speaks supports it, I don’t think I need to continue. 

Ok, but all this other stuff isn’t even that infuriating because, you know, we’ve seen it so many times before it’s just laughable. But they crossed a fucking line (and I’m not joking with this one) when they decided that it was ok to use one of my favourite fucking bands in their shit tv show. I’m always going to be reminded of this crap whenever I listen to them again, Netflix, and I’m fukcing pissed its not fucking acceptable. fuck. you.

I feel like I’ve covered most of the things I had problems with, but again I’d love if other autistic people could add on to the discussion (neurotypicals are welcome to reblog)

I just get so so annoyed by people who come for the Celaena in the first ToG book. People always accuse her of Mary Sueing and not actually being as lethal as she claims and I am like have you considered the following:

-she has spent a year as a slave in Endovier

-she has had to fight every day of that year to remain sane 

-she was whipped. a lot. she was malnourished and weakened when she left the mines.

-it takes her a while to get back into shape after being a slave. like, duh. did you expect her to be killing ppl left and right as soon as she was free?? idk that would unrealistic and isn’t being unrealistic one the things that mary sues get criticized for?? hmmm? like idk u cant have it both ways. 

-the plot of the first book is not about her being an assassin. like, lol, thats part of her past and that is made explicitly clear. can u ppl even read i mean come on

-the plot it literally set up to give us a main character who has an intricate and painful backstory, i mean, her backstory is not completely clear in ToG1, but we do know that Arobyn is a dickhead and Sam is dead and that there is something else horrible lurking in her past. 

-so why are you all surprised when a 16 year old girl is happy to lounge in bed and read and flirt with the crown prince and go to balls

-she has literally been a slave for a year and before that she was an assassin like 

-so like same. fucking same. think about how u would act in her situation. u would flirt with dorian too. and chaol. and u would love nehemia. we all would. 

-can we stop expecting characters who are teenagers to act like they aren’t teenagers

-can u cut teenage girls irl slack as well

-and im sorry was Celaena’s participation in the competition to be the king’s champion not gory enough for you

-i mean is it not enough that she is supposed to kill like 20 other men

-i just…what else is she supposed to do?? she starts to learn about wyrds marks??? she is doing her part to begin the Hero’s Journey™ like ya gotta start somewhere

-again like the plot of tog1 is that she used to be an assassin as in past tense, as in, her assassinating people happened before the beginning of the book not during the book so stop complaining that she doesnt kill enough ppl?? 

-why is whether or not the main character kills anyone a legitimate complaint

-hint: it isn’t.

-there is literally a book called the assassin’s blade that makes her work as an assassin explicitly clear. and she does kill a lot of people. and at this point in time you can read the AB before Tog1 if youd like.

-please dont use the term mary sue to describe female characters. its pretty sexist tbh because we get tons of male characters in fantasy novels written by men who are idealized without ever proving their worth but i only ever see the term applied to teenage girls. like?? have u ever read the name of the wind. it is a bomb book but if u wanna talk about wish fulfillment and mary suing, Kvothe (yes his name is that pretentious) is ur fucking guy. 

-also an integral part of the mary sue trope is that the character is idealized and perfect and uh, Celaena is not perfect. Her flaws are what make her believable. I mean she has had this horrible past and she comes out of it being fairly selfish and a bit cowardly and vain. and thats just…so realistic? I mean that is how you would react if you woke up in a pool of your parents’ blood, were drowned in a river, raised from the age of 8 to be an assassin by an abusive dick wipe who claimed to love you but really just had a creepy crush on you, conditioned to mistrust everyone, had the one person you actually loved in the world be murdered, and then were sold out by your abusive assassin dad to the king who was responsible for your entire family’s death and ended up in the fucking mines as a slave. 

-I see a lot of people say that Celaena is a mary sue and then criticize her for all her flaws and im like…but the mary sue is an idealized character who has no substance to back up their perfection. Celaena cannot be a mary sue and also have all the flaws you claim she has??? that is just false logic?? in fact, Celaena has all of the substance and flaws and life experience to back up her actions and like, none of the perfection. 

-idk what to tell u other than that u have to allow female characters, especially teenage ones, the space to grow? and idk about you but i dont want to read about characters who have zero flaws? I’d rather read about celaena, queen bitchness herself, because hey you know who else is a bitch and immature a lot of the time? Me!!!! Myself!!! 

-But I’ve grown a lot and so does Celaena and idk about you but I am so here for extreme character growth over the course of 6 books like….that is so great…so many authors have flat character growth or no character growth and SJM avoids that completely by giving us a character who has so many issues and ways she could be improving herself.

-stop shitting on celaena for not being the perfect character u want her to be.

-bye. 

Single - Part 1

Summary: Dean tries to plan a camping trip for his son and the reader doesn’t make it easy for him.

Pairing: Daddy!Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,419


Dean never planned on braving this world as a single dad, hell he never planned on being single again. He married the love of his life nine years ago, only to discover that she was an adversary in disguise.

Once Dean’s home life became unstable, he knew it was inevitably heading down a rocky road. Leaving was a tough decision because of his son Drew but it turned out being the best thing for everyone.

So that’s how Dean ended up here, here being a charming ranch styled house in the middle of a Kansas suburb. Not a day goes by where he’s not thankful for having the strength to rebuild his life.

Although it definitely helps that Dean’s supportive parents and brother live close by. It helps that he grew up playing on the same dirt that his son is now. And it helps that his sporting goods store became wildly successful, allowing him to do what he loves.

“Alright, Drew. This is your last hurrah before school starts so make it count.” Dean plops down at the kitchen table with a pen and pad in hand.

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An Arranged Marriage

Dean Winchester x Reader

2000 Words

Story Summary: An AU of sorts. Where hunter’s have communities, and arrange marriages for their young. Y/N is from the Northwest region, arranged to marry Dean, from the midwest region.

A/N: This is a request from @criesateverything. Requested an arranged marriage with Dean. 

Growing up in a hunter’s family was nowhere close to being a normal life. Sure, you lived in a community, but it was filled with hunter’s and their families. While you were learning your ABC’s and 123’s, you were also learning about the different types of monster’s and how to kill them. School was not a place to socialize. There was no such thing as friends, and you never even dreamed of having a boyfriend. It was a strict life, one filled with rules and death followed you everywhere.

It was a different life. Many would call it child abuse, and in some instances, you could see where that would be true. Yours might not have been perfect, but your parents cared for you. Being a hunter, there was a certain community, a certain way of life that didn’t make it easy to bring in strangers to the life. That’s why, starting in the early 1900’s, hunters started arranging marriages. With at least five different hunting communities country wide, it was the safest and wisest way to make sure that the hunter’s legacy continued.

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Sweet Like Candy (Bucky Barnes x Reader) Valentines One Shot! ❤

A/N: Hey y'all! This was requested by a lovely anon for Valentine’s Day! Tbh I got hella excited while writing this and wanted to go a slightly different route with the smuts! ENJOY - Delilah ❤❤ 

Sweet Like Candy: After planning an entire day to spend with you (and confess his feelings towards you) Bucky’s plans are disrupted when Sam steals all of his clothes. 

Warning: Sex (M/F) Nudity. Humiliation. Teeny bit of angst if you squint.  

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Hide and Seek

Alpha!Werewolf!Sam x Omega!Werewolf!Reader -A/B/O

Summary:  You’re a bonded Omega who left your human family when you were turned. Now, a year later, your mother and father have hired an interventionist to extract you from what they assume is a cult. 

A/N: What are a/b/o dynamics

Words: 5300+

Beta: @just-another-busy-fangirl

Warnings: Pregnancy, kidnapping, dominance, violence. References to: claiming, choking, oral sex, unprotected sex (obvi), biting, rough sex, some dom/sub overtones.

Your name: submit What is this?


It’s not that you didn’t love your family, in fact it’s quite the opposite, love is the reason you disappeared. Being bitten by a werewolf meant that life as you knew it was over. You had nightmares of killing your mother under a full moon, unable to control your base instincts: ripping out your father’s heart and eating it raw under the night sky.

Telling them the truth wasn’t an option; your father’s a physiologist, your mother a nurse. They’re level headed people who at the first mention of lycanthropy would have had you committed.

You couldn’t stay. You couldn’t see a way out, so you ran.

You wrote a note. Most of it was lies, but you wanted it to seem plausible. It wasn’t in your character to just abandon the people you loved, so you had to make it seem real. You had to hurt them so they would let you go. You wrote about meeting someone you wanted to start a life with, about how they’d suffocated you for twenty five years and you just couldn’t take anymore. You told them they drove you to leave.

You cried as you set the note on the kitchen table early one brisk autumn morning, then walked out the door falsely assuming you’d never seem them again.

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Everything

Characters: Y/N Winchester, Dean Winchester, Castiel Novak, Sam Winchester, Benny Lafitte, Bela (Talbot) Lafitte, Bobby Singer, Jody Mills, Jim Murphy.    

Pairing: AU Mechanic!Dean x Wife!Reader

Warnings: suspense, language, implied smut, mention of sex, and another one but I putting that in the tags cause I don’t wanna give anything away.    

Word Count: 3400ish

A/N: So I have been listening to a lot of James Blunt lately and this song hasn’t been able to leave me alone. When I started thinking about @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog aka mommy Mimi’s romcom fluff challenge it came roaring back. My prompt for Mimi’s challenge was You’re going to be bad for business. I can tell from the movie Moulin Rouge. Because I felt I might have been one of the people that Mimi glared at in her challenge post I chose to challenge the premise of the challenge a bit. It is fluff! I swear! Mimi don’t hurt me :P And also sorry for being a little late.

Thanks to my sweet amazing lil sis Rach aka @mysupernaturalfics for betaing this one.

***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

Dean didn’t hear the customer yelling after him as he rushed through the front of his auto repair shop. He didn’t register his uncle Bobby hollowing from the scrap yard for him to drive safe and that he would be no good to you dead. All Dean could think about was the call he had gotten 2 minutes earlier. A call that he had been expecting but it had still knocked his wind right out of him. He was pale as a ghost as he got in behind the wheel of his 1967 chevy impala. Nothing in that moment mattered to him was getting to you.

Dean’s entire body was on autopilot as he got behind the wheel of his car, pulling into the street and heading towards the hospital. Memories of you were all that occupied his mind. Memories of how his nights had been calmer and sleep filled after you came into his life. Your presence made everything better and sleep wasn’t a task that needed to be conquered anymore. It came as natural as holding you tightly against his body. Memories of how you would be humming in the kitchen every morning before work making him breakfast because you didn’t have to be at the coffee shop until an hour after he had to be at work. He loved wrapping his arms around you from behind and feel you lean back into him. He loved the way you’d always tilt you head, silently asking him for a kiss, which he would happily grant you.

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I Think I Wanna Marry You...(Part II)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: none; S/P/N- Sister’s Preferred Name.

Summary: The reader, distraught over not having a date to her sister’s wedding, considers asking one of the Winchesters to pretend to accompany her; will Dean manage to save the day and play pretend for two weeks, or will his feelings get the best of him?

Word count: almost 4k

A/N: yo this blew up way more than i ever thought it would thank you so much for the support <3

Dedicated to: @quixoticcat, @skymoonandstardust, @girliciousdreams, @captainbitchslap, @awkward–jay, @fandomlover03, and @daesunglg

PART 1

~*~*~*~*~

Friday arrives much faster than anticipated. It’s a warm, brisk morning, the sunlight raining down and painting  Massachusetts with a summery essence. Fallen leaves litter the yards of suburban homes and a canopy of those that remain is spread across the road, only a few dots of light peering through.


“Textbook illustration of the apple-pie life.” Dean remarks as he steers the car down a long strip of tarmac. “God…it’s making me sick already.”


“Hold it down. You know I don’t want you throwing up on any of my family members.” Y/N admonishes, letting her gaze avert from watching the houses roll by and unto the elder Winchester; today, despite her attempts to persuade him,  he’s still settled on wearing his usual hunter get-up—jeans and a plaid (obviously)—and his chin is adorned with a feint patch of stubble. His eyes are set on the road, focused, but she don’t miss the way his mouth quirks up at the remark.


Sam laughs as his eyes follow the array of little homes. “Noted.” He says. “Anything else Dean needs to know should probably be voiced out right now. You don’t want him making a fool out of himself around your family either.”


“We talked about this already last night.” The elder Winchester groans.


“No cussing around my mom, no crude jokes, saying the grace is a must, and—“


“And be sure to talk politics with your dad. Yes, I got all of that the first hundred times you told me.” Dean, rolling his eyes, makes a turn for the left and Y/N heaves a sigh of relief. They pass a group fo teenagers walking to school (way too late).


“Okay.” Y/N sighs, then raises her finger for emphasis. “Oh—also, be sure to try and interact with all my brothers. They love that.”

“We’ve met your family before, Y/N.” Sam’s eyes never leave his screen as he twiddles away at his phone.


They had; at the birth of her hunting career with the boys, years back, Y/N had had to make trip down to Massachusetts to handle a siren case that the Winchester’s provided extra muscle for. Their time in town had been spent at her parents’ home.


“I know, but this is different.” She defends. “Dean is….” She pauses, eyes skittering over to the elder Winchester for not so much as a second before they return. “….my boyfriend. Or pretending to be my boyfriend. There’s going to be a lot of pressure.”


“Your folks don’t seem like the type.”


“I just want to rub it in their faces that I’m.”—she raises her hands in finger quotes—“not single anymore so that they’ll get off my case.”


The elder Winchester nods slowly, pulling a face. “Makes sense.”


“Not really.”


“Shut up, Sam.”


The younger Winchester finally lifts his head from his phone. His gaze bounces from Y/N to Dean. “What did Cas say, by the way?”


“About tagging along?” Dean casts a brief glance into the backseat. “Not much. He said that he doesn’t see why we need him there anyway. I told him Y/N’s sister was getting married and she gets to bring a couple of friends, and seeing as we’re the only ones she has…” He trails off. Y/N then smacks him on the shoulder, earning a satisfied smile. “I’m kidding. Kind of. I told him that we want him to come with.”


“And he said no?”


Dean shrugs and continues to drive. The conversation ends there for a moment, and once a silence spreads throughout the car, Dean tunes the radio on and Y/N turns her head to the window.


Trees and houses and roads oh so familiar from her childhood escapades through this tone roll by. Streets, cafes. Although vast and very busy, she knows this place like the back of her hand; the local pool where their family used to go on weekends, the private schools she bounced between. Just down the road, wedged in the valley nearby are the woods where she encountered her first monster at the tender age of sixteen.


So many memories. So much attachment. Y/N hates Massachusetts more than anything; because it reminds her of how idyllic her life was before she started hunting. It reminds her of people and of places and everything the rest of her peers experienced that she didn’t get to; hunting whisked her away from her life, stripped her of a regular teenage hood. But then again, she’s not complaining.


She chose this life. She chose Sam and Dean. She loves Sam and Dean. You can tell her that the sky is red and that pigs fly and she’ll still believe all that first before she believes that they boys are anything but her family.


Boston is a few kilometers off the highway, down a winding road lined by thick trees and shrubbery, and with a few residential buildings scattered around. Despite being a large neighborhood dotted with mansions and the like, it’s a lot quieter. The rumble of the Impala’s engine is evident as Dean, instructed by Y/N, steers his way through. The outline of the city is painted against the canvas of the bright blue sky as they approach. The traffic, taken the time of day, is minimal and so they manage to get to the hotel in time.


In the parking, Dean kills the engine immediately, and then, heaving a heavy sigh, turns to Y/N.


His face speaks no ounce of nervousness, which only makes the young girl’s stomach coil into a tighter knot. She wants him to be nervous. One of them has to, and Dean’s placidity leaves room for only her own anxiety. “So….?”


“So…” She replies, trying to ease away her own nerves. Her hands feel clammy and the back of her neck is hot.  “Just don’t be nervous, yeah? My parents are like predators—they can smell your anxiety a mile away.”


“Not helping.”


“Not supposed to.”


“I feel like I should be telling that you, Y/N.” Dean remarks. “You’re shaking like a leaf.”


“No, I’m not.” She is. It’s a terrible lie and very evidently so, but thankfully none of the boys say anything. Instead, however, Dean reaches out and envelopes her hand in his. Y/N then stills, and feels the color drain from her face.


The contact is warm, assuring. Her hands slides perfectly into his and their fingers intertwine, palms pressed flat.


“We’re gonna kick ass.” Dean says confidently. Y/N doesn’t hear him—she’s looking at him, staring him dead in the eye, but the words enter one ear and fly out the other because her hand is in his and it’s nice.


It’s nice.


They’ve never held hands before, not like this. Dean guiding her through a dark path on a hunt, Y/N pulling him with her as she runs from a vampire. Their hands have definitely touched before, and their skin has definitely grazed before, but this is so alien to Y/N, because it feels nice and like everything that it’s not supposed to.


Dean stares into the young girl’s gaze as he tugs on her hand, offering a brief smile. “Come on.” He goes to open the door. “We’re gonna be late.”


Once his hand leaves hers, it’s like her trance has been diminished, like spell once cast over her has been broken. She floats back to reality. Sam is hauling their bags out from the trunk, she realizes, and Dean is trying to fit as many weapons into his luggage (just in case) as he can. She quickly gets out. The hotel, adorned with a very tropical theme, is down a strip of cobbled path with a few plants at the sides. Y/N follows the Winchesters, trying to keep the pace, when she hears Dean call to her.


She turns. “Huh?”


“Give me your bag.” He says, his hand open as they walk. Y/N stares at him for a moment, eyes glazed over. She’s still a bit dazed. Looking at Dean now feels alien and almost unreal, like she’s looking in one of those funny funhouse mirrors. Maybe it’s just the stress of this wedding, or the heat, she thinks, trying to brush it off


“Oh, uhm.”


“I got it.”But before she can speak, Sam plucks the rucksack from her and hoists it up on his back. Dean scoffs.


“Wow, Sam.”He rolls his eyes as they approach the hotel. Towering above them, it’s a giant of a building, quaint balconies perched up on room, it’s years and history written out in the way vines climb in slender tendrils along the stone walls. Inside, the ceiling climbs so high one might think it reaches the heavens


“Maybe Y/N should have asked you to play her boyfriend instead.” Dean remarks as they stroll in. The place is packed; an eclectic cloud of people roams the room, all with their luggage in hand.


Sam smirks. “Maybe she should have.”


“The reception’s over there.”


Y/N points to the desk ahead. Shuffling through the crowd, the trio makes their way over to the counter, the receptionist smiling at them. She’s young, probably older than them, but still her skin is taut and plump and her brown eyes gleam as she speaks. She types something into the computer and in a moment heir rooms are assigned, all courtesy of her family. Sam has agreed to carry everything upstairs and meet them at the lounge, so Y/N and Dean decide the time alone can be used to go over their ground rules again.


They wander over to the bar, a noticeable distance between them. The room is ambient, lit up by little warm lights suspended from the high-set ceiling despite it being day. Slow jazz music floats through the crowded room. As soon as they settle down, swarming like locusts in a field, the waiters come over, all trying to fix a menu in their faces until Dean ushers them away and says that they’re not hungry. Y/N is a little bit disappointed—she hasn’t eaten all morning—but says nothing, instead focusing on the man before her.


“Can I cuss around your sister?” Dean asks as he leans back in his seat.


Y/N nods vigorously, her expression saying that the answer is quite obvious. “S/P/N’s got a mouth like a sailor. A little profanity won’t hurt. Not around my parents though.”


“Not around your mum…?”


“Not around either.” She says. “They hate it, think it makes you look delinquent.”


Dean nods thoughtfully, then goes on asking various questions. Time seems to drift by unnoticed, the conversation bouncing from one end to another like a ball in a tennis court.


“Can I drink?”


“Sure.”


“Smoke…?”


Y/N wrinkles her brow in uncertainty. “You don’t smoke.” She says; it’s a firm statement, a proclamation rather than a question


“But if I had to?“


“Fine.” The young girl lets out an exaggerated sigh.  Dean chuckles. The sound is precise and brief but still manages to bring a shy smile to her face.  Moments later, the table has quieted for some reason, so Y/N lifts her gaze to Dean, regarding him curiously. She knows that look—it’s hard not to when she’s seen it so many times, with Sam or Cas, or even first hand. Gaze set on the floor, his lip is tucked between his teeth and he runs his tongue over his lips, his contemplation evident until he finally looks up.


“So,” The elder finally allows their eyes to meet. “What about us? You know…our boundaries, instructions. Do’s and don’ts. What do we say if we get the stereotypical how did you meet quiz?”


“Doesn’t really matter.” She waves a dismissive hand and then leans back in her seat. The fiber of the backrest presses into her back, crackling quietly. “My parents already know we met through hunting, but we could always just use some other cover with my other relatives.”


“So we lie?”


She quirks a teasing brow and smiles. “You have no problem lying that you’re an FBI agent basically every day. Lying that you met me on vacation or something can’t really be that hard…?”


“Where was our vacation to?”


“So we’re settling on the vacation-thing?”


Dean shrugs. “Any other options? I’m sorta just following here. It’s your plan.”


“Don’t say it like that. We’re a team, Dean.”


“Right, almost forgot that.” The elder Winchester chuckles and shakes his head. “Okay. What if we met on unconventional grounds? Maybe I nearly ran your dog over and you got pissed, so you tried flagging down my car and threatened to press charges. You didn’t, of course. My good looks and wit managed to persuade you into changing your mind and just having dinner with me instead.”


Y/N rolls her eyes at the green-eyed hunter, her mouth quirked upwards. “Is that your definition of romance? It sounds like bad lifetime movie.”


“It’s realistic.”


“It’s dumb.”


Dean pouts, then folds his arms and leans back in the chair. “Whatever.” He grumbles. “You think something up then.”


“Vacation it is.”


“You’re insufferable.”


A wide grin stretches across Y/N’s face and she revels in the victory, when Sam walks up. He comes up from behind her, the only indication of his arrival being the way Dean’s eyes dart to the space past her seat.


“You guys aren’t eating?”  He asks, pulling out a seat from the table nearby. He sits and turns to Dean.


“Do you want to?” The elder Winchester looks to Y/N—he’s asking her.


Opening her mouth to speak, she’s about to decline (because they don’t have time to sit and eat anyway), but the grumbling in her stomach reminds her of her hunger. The sound is embarrassingly loud. Her mouth instantly shuts, and Dean’s eyes widen.


“Shut up.” Y/N chastises as her cheeks are swarmed with pink. The elder Winchester doesn’t listen. He begins to howl with laughter, clasping his stomach, and Sam snickers along with him.


“Whatever.” She turns her head, scowling, as his laughter begins to melt away. Leaning back in his seat, little bubbles of laughter escape him, and he lifts his hand.


“Waiter.”He calls. A few feet away, with long curly blond hair, one of the servers from earlier turns. Dean’s ruddy face smiles at him as he calls him over. He scuttles over, a polite smile on his face.


“Yes, sir?”


“What do you want, Y/N?” Dean’s voice is ribbing and smug.


“Shut up.” The young girl rolls her eyes and turns her attention to the waiter. He’s young and his face is dotted with little pink spots of acne. She orders a chicken salad, just like Sam, and Dean goes for stake. Moments later, the food arrives, hot and scented with herbs and spices.


They eat and then, stuffed and satisfied, head up to their rooms to get cleaned up. Y/N just got a call from her parents asking where they are, that they’ve been waiting on them for a while now and everyone is already arriving


when they finally get to their room, Sam waiting out in the hallway, she and the elder Winchester hurry to get ready. Y/N curls her hair and throws on some mascara while Dean runs a quick shower.


“Okay, this is it.” She says, standing by the bed; the light from outside floods the area, bringing out the very delicate and chic design: the walls, painted mocha brown, are adorned with little trinkets and the bedspread is a light toffee color. There’s a potted palm in one of the corners, candles practically everywhere, and the wooden floor is warm beneath her bare feet.


“Operation Wedding Crasher is in pursuit.” Y/N says to Dean


Standing in the bathroom, he’s just gotten out of the shower and is trying to fix his hair, running his fingers through it and muttering profanities beneath his breath. She’d insisted that he changed—taken how many outfits he’s recycled, she’s pretty sure he wore that very one years ago when he first met her parents


“Roger that.” He takes one last look in the mirror, checking his stubble and hair, then walks over to the bed where his shirt sits.


Y/N tries not to stare at his bare-chested form as he quickly slips on the shirt, the front undone and exposing his caramel-colored skin. Instead, she clears her throat and turns away. This is the only way; if she doesn’t, she’s going to end up drooling a puddle on the floor or letting her gaze linger for too long, and that’s the last thing she needs right now. As if things weren’t awkward enough back in the car.


She then looks down at her hand, once encased in Dean’s, the marks from her battles with monster’s still there. There’s a little crescent shaped scar sticking out in her palm that speaks of a hunt years ago, a hunt with a rugaroo that ended in tears and blood and Y/N clasping onto Dean’s shirt for dear life. It’s hard to forget. She can recall getting it, can remember the pain of having to kill that young girl because of the abomination she had come, can still taste the blood on her tongue and feel the pain in her hand.


This life has left her with various moments like that. It’s a packaged deal when you’re a hunter, a sort of terms-and-conditions scenario, to have at least one hunt that has managed to strip you of normality. Something that took you over the line that separates you from the regular world—that was it for Y/N. She was it. That girl couldn’t have been older than seventeen. Having her blood on her hands had definitely been the initiation into the hunter’s game for Y/N.


She has been through so much in her time as a hunter and it shows; on her face and on her body. On her hands. She runs a finger along the tissue, watching it intently. Dean is speaking in the background, saying something to her that she can’t decipher because she forgets to for a moment, until the memory nudges at her conscience once more. The rugaroo hunt. Her scar.


It had been Dean to help her that night. It had been him and his nobility to carry her out of that house before she could bleed out; it had been him and his care, his selflessness, that got her to the car parked miles away from the woods they were in; it had been Dean to stop the bleeding and the tears that seemed to rain from her eyes after she killed that young girl and it had been his hands to cloth the wound in her own.


It had been and it will always be Dean, because Dean is her family.


“Y/N?” He says, pulling her from her reverie.


The young girl immediately looks up and whips around, facing the elder Winchester who is already dressed and ready to go. Y/N’s eyes widen; she doesn’t say it, but the outfit change was definitely a good idea.


Because wow.


Her eyes rake up and down the green-eyed hunter’s structure, taking in the sight of his crisp burgundy button up and dress pants—he looks stunning. He always looks stunning. It’s not weird for Y/N to say because it’s Dean and everyone notices his attractiveness upon first encounter, but this is a whole different case. It’s still him, of course. His eyes are still vibrant green, breaching into a hazel-gold, and his hair is still chestnut brown and his smile and his heart and everything Dean Winchester is still evidently there, but it’s just…different, like looking at the same thing but from a different angle.


“Uhm…” He draws out after a while.


Y/N looks back up to his eyes; her face then flushes and she swallows. “Sorry, uh” She stumbles, clasping her hands together and trying to regain her composure”—you were saying?”


Dean is smirking. “I look that good, huh?”


“Oh, shut up.”


He chuckles. The first few buttons of his shirt are popped and you can see a patch of caramel-tinted skin peering out at you, a feint scar on his collarbone adding some extra touch. “I was saying that we should get going. Sam’s already waiting up for us.”


“Right. Uhm, so we’ve gone over everything, yeah? You get the plan?”


“Yes. Act like we’re dating.”


“Act like we’re in love.” Y/N corrects as she grabs her satchel from the bed and goes to Dean at the door. She stands, body facing him. “There’s a big difference. My parents are going to be all over my case for these two weeks if they see that you and I don’t have any chemistry.”


“We already do, though.” He defends.


“Whatever. Then let’s amp it up—mega chemistry.”


“Mega chemistry, huh?”


“Yeah.” She smiles; it’s goofy and a bit shy because, God, did she really just say that?


But Dean doesn’t seem to mind, because his lips turn up to and he shakes his head. “Dork.”


“Let’s go.”


Y/N goes to open the door, her hand hovering right above the knob when Dean cuts in.


“Can I hold your hand?” He asks.


The young girl then stills and her hand floats away from the door. She stares at him; his voice is calm and collected, like he’s asking her what’s the time or how she is.


“You…want to hold my hand?” Y/N’s uncertainty is evident.


Shrugging, he pulls a face, an expression that says no duh, why not.“Yeah.” He answers. “We are trying to portray that mega-chemistry, aren’t we?”


“We are.”


“Yeah…so.”


She feels him reach out, like it’s happening in slow motion, like she can’t do anything, and take her hand in his. Their skin grazes and fingers lace. His hand is far bigger than hers, rougher, too, but it’s a satisfying contrast as the butterflies in her chest are roused.


Dean’s smile is ribbing and smug and Y/N’s heart is in her as she feels her palms clam up. He opens the door and they step out into the hallway, the heat immediately smacking onto them. Sam is leaning against the wall, typing away at his phones, and he looks up when he notices their presence.


A smile twists at his lips. “There’s the happy couple.”


“Shut it.” Dean says, smirking as they begin to saunter down the strip of corridor.  Y/N is trying to mollify her feelings, rinsing them away, trying to rationalize why they’re even here in the first place. They shouldn’t be. She shouldn’t be getting so worked up over something like this, but it’s hard to. The past few days, with this wedding situation overhead, have been nerve-wracking—could that be it? she wonders. Could those anxieties be the cause of her frazzled emotions?


But she doesn’t have time to ruminate. The elevator takes them to the ground floor and they shuffle out once the doors open, Sam and Dean talking about how weirdly excited they are about meeting Y/N’s family as they walk through the ballroom and then out into the garden. . Picnic benches are set up across the expanse of greenery and evergreen trees sprout from the ground all around. There are cobbled paths through and fairy lights (currently off) strung up between branches willows. She remembers this place from when her dad would bring her along on workshops and send her out here to play.


Y/N notices her mother first.


Her hair is an ashy blond, curled into a bob, and she’s wearing a white caftan and jeans. She’s smiling, laughing at the table cluttered with familiar faces. Only about two or three people are strangers to her.


Then, as if instinctively, she clutches Dean’s hand tighter in hers. He then casts a brief glance at her, one of caution, worry, almost, and Y/N meets his gaze.


“I’m nervous.” She admits, visibly gulping.


His eyes regard her curiously. “Why?”


If only she knew. But she doesn’t, so Y/N only shrugs and looks back ahead. When they’re a few feet away from the table, that’s when S/P/N notices them because, gleaming like the sun in a salmon colored dress, she rises from her seat and welcomes them with a smile.

“Y/N!”

 ~*~*~

Part 3

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Somewhere in Neverland

Summary: After a mission, Bucky goes to a trip on memory lane about your relationship.

Paring: Bucky x Reader

Words: 2520

Warnings: Fluffy, so much fluffy. All flashbacks are in italic you will love Bucky even more after this.

credits to the gif owners

Bucky looks at himself in the mirror, he hates to admit but right now he looks scary and much like a killer. He chuckles because this is exactly what he is. His hair is dirty, with sweat and there is probably blood on it.

The mission was rough, but they always are. He has a few bruises on his body, nothing too painful just a reminder of what happened in the last few hours and how dangerous his job is.  He hears you getting up and off the bed, he can’t help but smile when he hears you complaining from the cold and going to the bathroom after him.

“I didn’t hear you coming. You should have woke me up.” You say kissing his shoulder and hugging him from behind “Didn’t want to distribute you, sweetheart. You looked very cute sleeping.”  He feels you kissing his shoulder again, resting your head on his back.

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Whoops my fingers slipped haha this was cathartic

sorry if this is bad I wrote it in like 30 minutes

~

Tony,

I’m glad you’re back at the compound, I don’t like the idea of you rattling around a mansion by yourself. We all need family. The Avengers are yours, maybe more so than mine. I’ve been on my own since I was 18. I never really fit in anywhere – even in the Army. My faith is in people, I guess. Individuals. And I’m happy to say for the most part, they haven’t let me down. Which is why I can’t let them down either. Locks can be replaced, but – maybe they shouldn’t. I know I hurt you Tony. I guess I thought – by not telling you about your parents I was sparing you, but… I can see now I was really sparing myself. I’m sorry. Hopefully one day you can understand. I wish we agreed on the Accords, I really do. I know you were only doing what you believe in, and that’s all any of us can do, it’s all any of us should. So no matter what, I promise if you — if you need us. If you need me, I’ll be there.

Tony frowned, looking down at the phone that was sitting on his desk.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, staring at the offending object, but it must’ve been a while, because suddenly Rhodey was rolling up behind him in his chair, returning from PT.

“Hey,” Rhodey said, stopping by the desk and nodding towards the box that had been tossed aside once opened. “What was in there?”

“A letter,” Tony said, smiling humorlessly. “From Steve. And a burner phone.”

“That so?” Rhodey asked, body going rigid with fury, glaring at the letter in Tony’s hand. “What did he have to say?”

“Says that… he’s sorry he didn’t tell me about my parents… that the Avengers are my family… that he’s sorry we couldn’t agree on the Accords…. He also says that if I ever need him for anything, I can use this,” Tony help up the burner phone by the edges, careful not to touch it with more than just his thumb and index finger, “to call him and he’ll be there.”

Rhodey’s face flattened, going into the strongest bitch face Tony had ever seen.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Rhodey deadpanned.

“Apparently not,” Tony said blandly, tossing the phone back in the desk with distain. Rhodey reached over and snatched the letter out of Tony’s hand.

“’The Avengers are your family, maybe more so than mine,’ what the fuck is that? Some family, they all left you!”

“Thanks Rhodey,” Tony murmured, face buried in his hands, “I had almost forgotten that happened for a second.”

“Oh you know what I mean,” Rhodey argued, but there was no heat in his voice and he was looking at Tony with concern. “So what are you going to do?”

Tony moved his hands, resting his chin on one fist and toying with the phone with the other. He sat there quietly for a long time. Rhodey was just about to speak again when a slow smirk spread across Tony’s face, the first glimpse of the old Tony that Rhodes had seen in days.

“I think I’ve got an idea.”

~

It had been nearly two months since what the media was calling the “Avenger’s Civil War,” and nearly a month and a half since Steve had sent Tony his apology letter and the burner phone, and still, Tony had yet to call him.

It was a gorgeous sunny day in Wakanda, and Steve, Clint, Sam, and Wanda were sitting in the living room, reading and watching TV, waiting for something to happen or something to do.

Sam and Wanda were sitting and talking quietly by the window. Clint had been sitting on he couch and flipping through the channels for almost twenty minutes, never staying on one channel for more than thirty seconds. And Steve was sitting on armchair in the corner, holding the burner phone in his hand and waiting for it to ring, when T'Challa walked into the room, box in hand.

“Mr. Rogers,” T'Challa said, nodding at the others in the room before walking towards Steve.

“King T'Challa,” Steve said, standing and slipping the phone into his back pocket. “I thought you were still in Vienna for the UN meetings?”

“I was, but we decided to take a recess for a few days, as I had things to take care of in Wakanda and we were not really getting anything done.” T'Challa moved the box from under his arm, thrusting it at Steve, a small indecipherable smile on his face. “I was, however, asked to give this to you.”

“Me?” Steve asked, cold fear flooding his body. “How would they know you could get it to me? Does someone know we’re here?”

“Yes, but I assure you, it’s no one you need worry about,” T'Challa smirked, an amused twinkle in his eye. “They told me not to tell you who it is from, and that you’d recognize the sender when you opened it.”

“Okay…,” Steve said slowly. “Thank you for bringing it to me,” he called out as the King turned and walked away.

“My pleasure, Captain.”

Steve felt his confusion rise when he heard the obvious entertainment in T'Challa’s voice. Looking down at the box in his hand, he sat back down in his chair and began to open it.

A rattling noise came from inside when the box flipped, and Steve’s brow furrowed. Once opened, he dumped the content of the box into his lap and felt his heart drop into his stomach as he looked at the objects in his lap.

Plastic pieces of what looked like an old, cheap flip phone fell out, shattered as though someone had taken a hammer to it repeatedly. On top of the pieces, a slip of paper.

Steve picked up the paper, heart pounding in his chest and ears, and unfolded it.

All that was written inside, in Tony’s blocky, engineer handwriting, was:

Fuck. You. :)

Not Your Fault (Avengers X Fem!Teen!Reader)

Characters: Avengers X Fem!Teen!Reader

Universe: Marvel, Avengers

Warnings: Mention of extreme injury, disability, guilt.

Request: Hey! I was wondering if I could have one in which the reader is Tony’s teen daughter and she is really good friends with everyone in Team Cap but then during the airport fight she gets hurt and is unable to walk again (like Rhodey kind of) and then when she sees Team Cap again they feel really guilty specially because one of them caused the injury and Natasha feels angry at herself because she was supposed to be her mother figure and look out for her. Thank you, hope it’s not too much trouble!


Originally posted by ohevansmycaptain

Originally posted by fymarveluniverse

Originally posted by avengers-of-mirkwood

Originally posted by littlemisssyreid

It’s been nearly two years since the incident. Since the team split and had that fight. You didn’t like it. You were close with everyone on Steve’s team. Wanda got along with you since you were close to each other’s ages, Clint was just good with kids, and Scott was the same and funny. Sam you could joke with, and despite barely knowing Bucky, in the time you knew him, you had managed to get to talk to him a bit and you managed to get him to smile. Steve was probably the one you were closest to. His ego was nowhere as big as your dad’s, Tony, and if he ever got too much, Steve always offered dinner at his after school or just to help with homework. He gave you a glimpse of a normal life- well, as normal as life could get. He was like an uncle.

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tiny!Tony headcanons

Headcanons focusing on the delightful Protective!Winter Soldier and kid!Tony/deaged!Tony dynamic that needs to be written way more often. You’re welcome.

  • tiny!Tony being absolutely fascinated with the metal arm and treating it like his favourite stuffed animal, always cuddling with it when he needs comfort, petting it, talking with it and insisting it gets goodnight kisses. tiny!Tony’s the only one allowed to touch it because he has The Pout and Bucky never stood a chance. (Seeing an adorable, small child showering his arm with love may or may not help Bucky accept the metal arm as something more than a killer tool HYDRA bestowed on him.)
  • tiny!Tony shocking everyone when he twists his attackers’ right hand to get out of their hold. tiny!Tony then promptly turning around and breaking their left one as well, causing Captain America to ask with a disapproving look if that was really necessary. tiny!Tony not being impressed at all because “everyone is ambidextrous until proven otherwise, don’t you know that?”. (The Winter Soldier standing right behind tiny!Tony, puffed up like the world’s proudest mom because that’s his boy.) (Steve pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance because no, Clint, leaving an impressionable Tony with a brainwashed assassin does not count as adult supervision.)
  • A concerned Pepper taking tiny!Tony aside and explaining how it’s important for people’s mental health and development to have friends their own ages. tiny!Tony taking her very seriously while simultaneously missing the point completely and immediately setting up playdates for the Winter Soldier at a local retirement home.
  • tiny!Tony being banned from the coms during Avenger missions (he watches them fight safely from inside the Tower of course) because whenever he becomes excited about a trick one of them performs the Winter Soldier gets jealous and pulls an even more showy/dangerous/impressive/reckless move. Nobody is allowed to be tiny!Tony’s Most Awesome Person Ever except for him.
  • tiny!Tony discovering through a gossip magazine that he and Pepper used to be a thing, plus speculation that they’re secretly planning their runaway wedding. tiny!Tony consequently inviting Pepper over and sitting her down to explain in a very grave voice that she’s really pretty and her high heels are scary and she’s awesome with a nerf gun but he can’t marry her despite all that because married people share everything and he won’t share his Bucky. (On a completely unrelated note Steve finds himself locked out of Bucky’s room and on a more memorable occasion the entire Tower with alarming regularity.
  • The team taking their responsibility of caring for tiny!Tony very seriously, including: Bruce child-proofing and Tony-proofing the kitchen, the living quarters and bedrooms, Natasha reading parenting books and traumatising the SHIELD junior agents while she is at it, Sam buying child (genius) appropriate movies, games and toys and Steve working with Pepper on schemes to keep the public from finding out what’s happened. Meanwhile Tony and his assassin babysitter proceeding to start the Most Epic Very Explosive Possibly Last Ever experiment in Tony’s workshop that everyone just assumed JARVIS would put into lockdown…
  • Steve and Sam taking the Winter Soldier (who still has trouble understanding social norms, cues and interactions) aside to delicately explain that tiny!Tony is not to be treated like adult!Tony and how it’s important to account for this difference at all times. The Winter Soldier signalling his understanding and acceptance of the newly adjusted mission parameters, then proceeding to drag a curious tiny!Tony to the armoury to familiarise himself with any and all weapons he can efficiently use with his current size and weight.
  • The Winter Soldier is on babysitter duty, and he knows - Captain Rogers explained it five times - that it’s important for tiny!Tony to tire himself out before bedtime. The Winter Soldier does the obvious, age appropriate thing: he puts tiny!Tony through the average Red Room trainee routine every evening for a couple of hours. Several weeks go by and suddenly the Avengers have to deal with a tiny!Tony ninja. The team is not impressed.
  • Bucky and tiny!Tony being alone at the Tower when something triggers the Winter Soldier. tiny!Tony being completely unaware, not even noticing the change. tiny!Tony taking everything the Winter Soldier does as a game or a joke. Or maybe he thinks this is another one of those In Case You Get Kidnapped training simulations a certain paranoid Bucky has been known to put him through.
Won’t Let Go

Title: Won’t Let Go

Summary: When you return to the bunker with Sam, you realize how shaken Dean is after everything that has happened. All you want to do is comfort him but he ends up promising you something you never thought he would.

Author: deanssweetheart23

Characters: Dean Winchester x reader

Word count: 1063

Warnings: Angst. Mentions of blood and death. Spoilers for the episode 12x22 “Who We Are”. Bit of fluff because let’s be real, we all need this.

Author’s Note: So. The two hour finale. It killed me. And episode 22? Also killed me. Jensen’s acting killed me. I’m just completely dead right now, okay? So, I had to write this because my Deanie Beanie deserves all the love and comfort in the world *clears throat* *pulls herself together*

Right. This is set right after the last scene of the episode, meaning right after that group hug the three Winchesters share. The gif used is not mine. You can find it here

Enjoy <3 


The steady sound of running water overwhelmed your senses as you bonked your head against the shower door, washing away worries and fears and that little voice in the back of your mind that told you it was impossible for you to be there, to be back in the bunker again, alive and safe and almost unscathed.

Breathing deeply, in and out, you wrapped yourself around a towel, and got out of the shower slowly, eyes already darting towards the fresh scars and wounds covering your skin.

You should be used to it by now, but the thought of dying, of leaving this world, even in a blaze of glory with Dean and Sam next to you, had scared you more than you’d like to admit.

In and out.

Running your fingers through your hair, you let the towel drop to the floor and reached for your underwear, then slipped into one of Dean’s flannels, mind drifting to him almost intuitively. You’d only seen him for a few moments after you and Sam had returned from your mission, but you could tell that, whatever he’d seen in that dream sequence inside Mary’s head had hurt him. Really hurt him, even though he’d never say that out loud.

And, God, you worried about him.

In and out.

Soon enough, you were in the room you shared with Dean, only to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, holding what you knew was a picture of himself and his mother in hand.

Your heart broke.

“Hi there.” You whispered, leaning against the doorframe.

He looked up then, green eyes lighting up just a bit as he registered your presence.

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“Peter is Becoming a Problem”

Peter Parker x Reader

Avengers Chatroom

Part 2 is HERE.

Warnings: Mild Language, Father!Tony-Clint-Steve-and-Bruce, Mother!Natasha, Basic Family Drama, Innuendos, Deadpool is here so yeah…

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