It’s Supernatural Day, the anniversary of the day the pilot first aired. And I have been watching Psych for a week rather than beginning my Supernatural rewatch, which I should feel guilty about. However, Supernatural has wormed its way into my viewing anyway, as it always does. Every episode has someone from Supernatural in it, because one of the Psych costars is Tim Omundson, who played Cain. However, since it was also filmed in Vancouver, every episode has also had someone else from Supernatural, ranging from Alex Calvert to That Guy Who Played A Hunter Who Forced Sam To Drink Demon Blood. Today I watched 1.06, which was the first episode that (as far as I can tell) didn't have a second Supernatural actor. But it did have (1) the guy who played Kripke on Big Bang Theory, and (b) a re-enactment of a Civil War battle that took place in Lawrence, Kansas. So I think it still counts.

What, now? Yes, now. A single sentence fic inspired by this Tumblr post…

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The gif I wanted finally showed up on Tumblr. If you watched the episode, go watch this again. And if you didn’t watch the episode, definitely go see what you missed. My buttons, they were pushed.

Here it is!

This fic has everything…

MoC Dean!
Angsty Sam
Sam thinking about Dean murdering him!
A fix-it for that ridiculous Halloween story!

Go read it…
subject and object

A few random thoughts about 1.16...

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I didn't expect to recap 1.14 and yet here I am, still avoiding my unfinished Summergen fic. I'm actually writing this in real time, as I watch the episode. So for once I'm not pretending I don't know what happens. I literally don't know.

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I did not (and still do not) intend to discuss every individual episode of Walker, but we've got some time to kill before 1.13 (time I should be using to work on Summergen, shush) and I have things to talk about.

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Lebanon, Kansas
Six Months Ago

Having watched 15.20 (on its six month anniversary!) yesterday, followed immediately by 1.01, I have some thoughts.
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We're up to episodes 10 and 11. Keep in mind that I skip through a lot of teenage drama and shit.

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Genre: Wincest (non-explicit)
Length: About 1300 words
Rating: Hard PG or light R
Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester
Synopsis: My first (and probably only) Wincest. No actual sex, just post-coital angst. The morning after the first time. Dean's POV and then Sam's POV.
Notes: No, I am no abandoning my gen status. But this plot bunny burrowed into my brain and refused to go away until I wrote it out. Flowers in the Attic is a cheesy gothic novel featuring four children who are locked in an attic by their scheming mother who hopes to hide their existence; the oldest son and daughter eventually begin an incestuous relationship. The title is from "The Man Comes Around" by Johnny Cash, which I never heard until recently but am now obsessed with.

. . .

Part 1: Dean

It doesn't start with romance or lust. It doesn't start with that little flash of bare skin visible above his jeans when he raises his arms (it makes you crazy and you don't know why; you see him shirtless all the time but for some reason that little strip of skin that isn't meant to be showing just brings you to your knees). It doesn't start with you staring at that perfectly sculpted spot at the base of his throat and finally setting your mouth to it and marking him up the way you've dreamt about for years (you've bruised him when you were sparring, and you've battered him in anger, but you've never left a mark for the purpose of saying hands off, he's mine and oh, what you would do just for the chance). It doesn't start with you too drunk to keep holding it all in and Sam too drunk to say no (you would never, you would never).

It starts with terror. Pure balls-to-the-wall terror that you're about to lose him. A horribly fucked-up hunt where you almost die, but more importantly, you almost watch Sam die, and you stumble into your motel room, both still out of breath, still not quite sure what happened out there, and you're checking him for injuries and every breath is a silent mantra, I almost lost you, I almost lost you, and nothing is enough, you want to crawl under his skin, you want to open him up and cradle his heart in your hands to make sure it's still beating, you're holding him tighter and tighter and he's clutching you just as tight, looking into your soul with those big wet eyes and saying "Dean, Dean," like your name itself is a prayer, a request. A plea. Whatever he is pleading for, you will give it to him. And it turns out the only thing he wants is all of you.

Which is convenient. Because the only thing you want is all of him.

. . .

But then comes After, and you have to face what you've done.

When you wake up (his arm is still flung over you, it's so wrong, it's so wrong), you quietly crawl out of bed and hurry into the shower. There is no water hot enough to scrub you clean, no soap strong enough to wash away your sins (watch out for your brother, it's your most important job). When you give up and turn off the water, you realize you didn't bring any clothes to change into, and you sure as hell weren't wearing any when you fled into the bathroom. There's nothing you can do but wrap a towel around your waist and hope he's still asleep.

He's not. He's sitting up in the bed you shared. His hair is a tousled mess, a silky brown cloud, and your fingers twitch with the craving to be tangled in it again. He doesn't look disgusted, or repulsed. He looks… hopeful. Like he hasn't caught on yet that you are a monster.

(He will be the death of you.)

(He is your reason for living.)

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