#okay. to be VERY clear. I am NOT accusing Sam of being John. he is parallelling John very clearly | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

postmodernmulticoloredcloak · 3 years

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The shifting narrative of God’s interventism and how it reflects on the narrative on John

This post will ignore the issue authorial intent entirely because I can, but it’s also about authorial intent in a way, but I also don’t like to talk about things as happening “accidentally” because a) a serialized story like Supernatural, especially one that got renewed for much longer than anyone could possibly expect or hope in their wildest ambitions, structurally relies on serendipity, because that’s how stories work when they’re work in progress, b) a television show is an extremely multi-authored text and the chance that something happens out of the intent of any of the multiple layers of creators is kind of... statistically negligible. So, yeah, that’s my stance on the topic. Anyway.

The shifting narrative about God is simultaneously something that hangs on fortunate storytelling clicks on an essentially programmed narrative. At first, we don’t know where the fuck God is. Cas starts looking for him with little success. Raphael says he’s dead, Cas doesn’t believe it. Dean relates to his struggle because he knows the feeling of not knowing where the fuck your father is and going looking for him with little success, not knowing if he’s even alive. Then the theory that gets assumed as the truth is that God has left. He fucked off who knows where, who knows why, leaving his creation to struggle alone. Also essentially how Dean had felt after John had died; in that case there was guilt for his demon deal and everything, but the most cruel weight on Dean’s shoulder was that John left him alone to struggle with his devastatingly horrific instructions he doesn’t understand. The angels are also left with horrific instructions they don’t understand. No wonder Cas does his own ‘demon deal’ in season 6, as he desperately tries to do what he assumes his father wants from him, but he doesn’t actually know what that is.

“God has left” is maddening, and everyone is angry about it, but it has its own dignity. God has left us without clear instructions, we are confused and in pain and evil runs amock but at least, we suppose, the evil of it is our own doing. We are alone and we do our best, our best is simply not enough. We wish he gave us guidance, but he won’t. He wants us to figure it out ourselves, possibly. We don’t actually know what he wants. But maybe that’s the point. It’s possible he doesn’t even know what’s happening, he just has left the building entirely.

But then Chuck reveals himself. We find out that he never actually left. He was there. “I like front row seats. You know, I figured I’d hide out in plain sight”. He simply chooses not to intervene. He chooses not to answer. He chooses to be hands-off. He presents himself as a laissez-faire parent, because, he says, it’s better for his children to have the responsibility they need to grow up. He’s absent, but in a different way than we thought! It’s not that he doesn’t know what’s happening or isn’t interested in knowing what’s happening. He’s here, he knows what’s happening, he just stays there and watches as you stumble and struggle and scream. It’s worse, and it pains Dean so much he isn’t even afraid to yell at God. You know we’re suffering and you just don’t give us any support, any comfort.

You’re frustrated. I get it. Believe me, I was hands-on, real hands-on, for, wow, ages. I was so sure if I kept stepping in, teaching, punishing, that these beautiful creatures that I created... would grow up. But it only stayed the same. And I saw that I needed to step away and let my baby find its way. Being overinvolved is no longer parenting. It’s enabling.

But it didn’t get better.

Well, I’ve been mulling it over. And from where I sit, I think it has.

Well, from where I sit, it feels like you left us and you’re trying to justify it.

I know you had a complicated upbringing, Dean, but don’t confuse me with your dad.

At that point of the show, the writing team almost certainly didn’t have the s14-15 twist in mind. So this was probably intended to be Chuck’s truth. Later it gets twisted (retconned?) into a lie, but about that later.

Here, Chuck is really good at manipulating the conversation. Dean has a perfectly valid point, because there IS a middle ground between being overinvolved and not being involved at all. There is a middle ground between enabling your children and abandoning them completely. But Chuck hits Dean where it hurts, plays the emotional card, basically tells him that he’s too emotional to understand, too emotional to think rationally about it, because he mixes his feelings about his father to the issue and thus cannot see it clearly. He basically tells him he’s too close to it to get it. You don’t understand parenting, Dean, because you’re too blinded by your emotions about your own little life and cannot see the big picture.

It doesn’t really matter here if he’s telling the truth or lying, it already says a lot about Chuck that he’s emotionally manipulating Dean, silencing him by hitting the painful spot.

But the thing is, 11.20 immediately presents Chuck as a liar. He makes Metatron read his autobiography and the very first line is a lie (“In the beginning, there was me. Boom – detail. And what a grabber. I mean, I’m hooked, and I was there.” “I’m hooked too, and yet... details. You weren’t alone in the beginning. Your sister was with you.”) and the stuff he talks about his experience as Chuck is not exactly truthful about anything (“That, you know, makes you seem like a really grounded, likable person.” “Yeah, what’s wrong with that?” “You are neither grounded nor a person!”). Metatron calls him out (“Okay. There are two types of memoir. One is honest... the other, not so much. Truth and fairy tale. Now, do you want to write Life by Keith Richards? Or do you want to write Wouldn’t It Be Nice by Brian Wilson?”). Chuck SAYS he chooses truth and gives Metatron a different manuscript, supposedly containing the truth, to which Metatron reacts positively. Metatron believes it, and we believe it with him.

Oh! Oh, this! This is what I was talking about. Chapter Ten “Why I Never Answer Prayers, and You Should Be Glad I Don’t”, and Chapter Eleven “The Truth About Divine Intervention and Why I Avoid It At All Costs”.

Nature? Divine. Human nature – toxic.

They do like blowing stuff up.

Yeah. And the worst part – they do it in my name. And then they come crying to me, asking me to forgive, to fix things. Never taking any responsibility.

What about your responsibility?

I took responsibility... by leaving. At a certain point, training wheels got to come off. No one likes a helicopter parent.

This is sort of what he later says to Dean, except that to Dean he talks about “beautiful creatures” “my baby”, talks about helping, none of the harsh tone he’s using here. When Metatron accuses him of hiding from Amara, he retorts “I am not hiding. I am just done watching my experiments’ failures”. What a different language, uh? Then Metatron asks him why he abandoned them, and Chuck answers “Because you disappointed me. You all disappointed me”. Then, he admits he lied about “learning” to play the guitar and so on, because he just gave himself the ability, and then appears to Dean and Sam, after Metatron’s passionate speech about humanity.

So, no matter the authorial intent at the time - the truthiness of Chuck’s words was already ambiguous. He kept lying and being called out, or silencing the conversation with some good ol’ gaslighting.

The season 14 finale introduces the big twist: it was, indeed, all a lie. The whole of it. Chuck didn’t abandon shit. It was all him, minutely controlling the narrative of the universe, putting the characters through all the pain and struggles for his own amusement.

The “absent father” narrative was a lie.

What does this tell us about John? Nothing, according to the authorial intent that shines through Dabb’s Lebanon. But we don’t give a crap about Dabb’s authorial intent about John! He’s just one dude and plenty of other authors have painted a different picture. So I’m going to read the narrative the way I want, because I can, and the narrative allows me to. It’s all there.

I’m suggesting that the fact that Chuck lied when he talked about being a hands-off/absentee father parallels how Dean and Sam prefer to think of their father as an “absent father” when that’s not exactly a reflection of the truth.

You left us. Alone. ‘Cause Dad was just a shell. [...] And I-I had to be more than just a brother. I had to be a father and I had to be a mother, to keep him safe.

Setting aside how “I had to be a father and I had to be a mother” sort of retcons and cleans up the Winchester family picture painted by ealier seasons, the fact that John didn’t really count as a functional father figure and Dean and Sam were essentually alone is not incorrect or anything. It is true that John would leave them to their own devices a lot, thus the long stays in motels, the hunger, the food-stealing, and all. But John wasn’t always absent, at all. He trained them as soldiers, he disciplined them, he was around enough for them to be intimately familiar with what happened when he drank. He drove them around.

It’s almost like it’s preferable to Dean and Sam to spin their own “absent father” narrative, putting the accent on the time they spent alone, painting their childhood as a time they had to grow up on their own, rather than acknowledge they grew up under the thumb of a controlling, looming figure they would regularly live in fear of, even when he was not physically present.

The “absent father” narrative is what Dean and Sam need to use to avoid confronting the reality of the father figure whose moods and whims they had to dance around. “I know things got dicey... you know, with Dad... the way he was. And I just... I didn’t always look out for you the way that I should have. I mean, I had my own stuff, you know. In order to keep the peace, probably looked like I took his side quite a bit.”

John shaped their lives. He shaped their identities. Even in the episodes where he abandons Dean or both children somewhere, he’s portrayed as the figure who drives the car. He symbolically drives the car, you know? John shaped Dean and Sam’s relationship with each other, both on a surface level (the conflicts) and on a deeper level (the parental dynamic).

Heck. The entire first season of the show plays on John’s disappearance as the “elephant in the room”. John is there by not being there, you know? And after he dies, his death - his absence - is again the elephant in the room for Dean, the weight on his psyche that he shatters under.

It is not wrong that Dean and Sam had to spend long periods of time without John. But John structured their lives in quite minute detail. Where they needed to be, what they needed to do, what they must not do, everything had to follow John’s instructions. A drill sergeant, the narrative called him, ordering how his sons needed to live their lives. That’s no absence, except on a level where Chuck not showing himself and pretending he’s not there can be considered absent. That’s a presence, not necessarily always physical, but semiotical and psychological.

John is an absent father as much as Chuck is a hands-off god. He even writes himself into the story around the time Cas has the “season 1” phase (let’s go look for dad/let’s go look for god), which is when John actually was alive and appeared. Then he was no longer physically there, but he was still shaping his characters’ lives, just like he’d always done.

The “absent father” narrative on John is that - a narrative. Spun by the characters themselves because it’s easier and actually kinder on John. Or, better, it allows them not to be crushed by the psychological implications of having to accept that their father was such a looming, minutely formative figure in their lives. They know, but they can wave the “absent father” idea around to avoid thinking about it.

“I had to be a father and I had to be a mother” is something easier to tell yourself. I was the one who did it all. But he wasn’t, and that’s the problem. The fact that John was their father - Dean’s and Sam’s - is the problem. But ironically, blaming himself for every failure is a better option for Dean than fully acknowledging John’s abuse. As long as he blames himself, he has control over it. The moment he acknowledges the extent of John’s influence, he loses control over the entire narrative of his own identity and the family identity, the family dynamics. That’s scarier, just like realizing that God manipulated everything is much scarier than the alternative. “God abandoned us” was indeed a better option, and “John left us alone” was a better option. But neither was true, and the characters faced the implications of the cosmic level, but never got to face the implication of the familial level, because the narrative always danced around it and then Dabb’s apologist version “won”.

But what’s been put in the show is still there. The narrative of John’s abuse is still there. Nothing can take it out of the story.

#my spn thoughts #spn meta #dean and john #dean and sam and john #dean and chuck #dean and god #spn 11x20 #spn 11x21 #spn 14x20 #spn 12x22 #et alii #spn #long post

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spn-safeandsound · 4 years

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12. Long Distance

Safe and Sound

Dean Winchester x Original Character

Episode: 1x17; Hell House

Word Count: 7,182

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence + gore, sisterly antics

Author’s Note: Enjoy! Let me know what you think! Make sure to reblog and like!

Masterlink in Pinned Post!

Julia anxiously watched the printer in Beth and Taylor's study, her lips quirking into a smile as the professional cursive was inked onto the expensive paper that Beth insist she get for her diploma. She had finally graduated from Stanford and, although she didn't get to attend graduation, she was very proud of herself. Her double major in Religion and Linguistics had been received simply because she was too meticulous and stubborn to let her education go waste.

But now that education was over and she couldn't lie and say she wasn't happy about it. Sixteen years in school was a long time—even though she went two years less than other people she graduated with—and she was glad that part of her life was over. She just wished that her mom and Levi were still here to witness this. Still, she knew they were watching up in Heaven and that was the best she was going to get.

Once the printer spit out her diploma, she carefully set it on Beth's desk so the ink could dry without any smudges. She was just taking a seat in the desk chair where her open laptop was sitting so she could continue working on the case she found for Sam and Dean down in Texas when her cellphone rang.

She wasn't surprised that it was Dean; he had been calling her every couple of hours to check up on her. He wasn't happy that she didn't want to hit the road just yet after Levi's death but he understood and was supportive anyway. He just made sure she knew that he and Sam would check up on her and the rest of the Petersen family. That was sweet and everything and Julia appreciated how supportive the Winchester brothers were being but sometimes there was such a thing as too many calls. She couldn't believe that Dean accused her of talking too much.

Beth and Abby thought it was the cutest thing ever when she'd have to leave the room to talk to Sam and Dean—though it was mostly Dean as she and Sam communicated through a text thread—and not return for a half-hour. Beth and Abby weren't the ones who had to assure a very worried Dean every couple of minutes that they were safe and feeling a little bit better. Usually Julia was the mother-hen but, apparently, in her absence, Dean took up the title.

Julia sighed and flipped her phone open. "Hello?"

"Hey, it's Dean."

"Yeah, I know," Julia rolled her eyes, glad that he couldn't see the obvious look on her face. "What's up?"

"Well, Sam just woke up with a spoon in his mouth," Dean chuckled, sounding satisfied with himself. "and I took a picture to send to you."

"Yeah, it's real funny, Dean," Sam grumbled.

Julia shook her head in amusement; Sam and Dean's prank wars were always a hit with Dean, even if Sam didn't enjoy them as much as his older brother.

"Where are you guys?"

"A few hours outside of Richardson," Dean answered her. "Give me the low down on this case you found."

"Okay," Julia pressed the space button on her laptop, waking it up, and clicked on the folder of information she collected. "About two months ago, a group of kids went poking around a local haunted house."

"Haunted by what?" Sam wondered.

"A misogynistic spirit, I guess. Like we need any more of those in the world," she hummed in disapproval; Sam chuckled in agreement. "Anyway, the legend goes that it takes girls and strings them up in the rafters."

"Okay, so what happened with this group of kids?" Dean said, getting her back on track.

"They saw a dead girl hanging in the cellar."

"Anybody ID the corpse?"

"The body was gone by the time the cops got there," Julia clicked on the police report in the file. "The police think that the kids were playing a joke on them."

"Maybe the cops were right," Sam suggested.

"They could be but I've read some of the first-hand accounts from the kids involved," Julia sighed. "They seemed pretty sincere about the whole thing."

Dean sounded skeptical when he spoke next. "And where did you read these accounts, Junior?"

Julia took a beat, glad that he couldn't see the flush rising in her face. "I might have surfed through some local paranormal websites."

"Mmhm," she could hear Dean's disapproval even though he hummed. "and what's it called?"

Julia sighed as she read the website from the file, "Hell hounds lair dot-com," she heard Sam laugh. "Hey, it could be legit!"

"Most of those websites wouldn't know a ghost if it bit them in the ass, Julia," Dean sighed.

"Hey, you wanted a case, I delivered," Julia defended herself. "If it's nothing, that's fine, but it doesn't hurt to check it out."

"Especially since we let Dad and Luke take off," Sam backed up Julia.

Julia frowned, still bitter about that. She wasn't mad at Dean and Sam by any means. No, she was angry with her dad. He didn't come when Julia was dying or when Levi actually died but he was fine following John Winchester to Chicago just to see the failed trap the girl who killed Levi set up for them.

It wasn't like his daughters were only a half-hour away, mourning the loss of their older brother or anything. It wasn't like his only son was killed.

"Fine," Dean gave in when he heard Julia's silence. He had been the one to tell her that they saw Luke with their dad and it was heartbreaking to see the expression on her face. He hoped he'd never let her down like Luke did. "We'll check it out. How have you been doing, shortcake?"

"I'm fine," Julia twisted her lips. "I got my diploma today."

"Wait, are you serious?" Sam exclaimed. "That's great, J! Congratulations!"

"I'm proud of you, Julia," Dean added sincerely.

"Thanks, guys," Julia's chest swelled with love. She was so glad that Sam and Dean Winchester were in her life.

"Send me a picture."

"I will," she agreed to Sam's request. "Well, I'll let you go—"

"Wait, wait," Dean stopped her from hanging up. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Dean..."

"I mean, you can talk to us."

Julia quirked an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't do chick-flick moments?"

Dean cleared his throat awkwardly. "Yeah, well..." he changed the subject. "How many times have you watched Dirty Dancing since we left?"

Julia hesitated; Dirty Dancing was her go-to movie to watch whenever she was sad. It was her mother's favorite movie and Julia grew up watching it a lot. She absolutely adored Patrick Swayze, the dancing, the music, and the love story that made up the film. It made her happier.

"Jules?"

"I've watched it every night, okay?" she confessed. "Leave me alone, I'm delicate."

"All right, all right," Dean gave in; Julia could tell that he was worried about her and that was sweet but watching that movie was her coping mechanism and it hadn't let her down so far. "We'll talk later, shortcake. Stay safe."

"I will," she promised. "You guys be safe, too. Love you."

"Love ya, too, J," Sam called. "Bye."

"Bye."

Julia closed her phone and set it down on the desk beside her laptop. She pulled up her internet browser and started doing more research for the case, hoping that any information she pulled would help the brothers out.

Dean and Sam walked into the record shop, looking around for the guy that the witnesses said sent them to the house where they saw the dead girl. As they passed by the first table full of records, a worker came out from the back with his hands full of more merchandise to put away.

"Gentlemen, can I help you with anything?" he asked them.

"Yeah, are you Craig Thurston?" Sam asked him politely.

"I am," the worker confirmed as he put a record in place.

"Well, we're reporters with the Dallas Morning News," Dean told him. "I'm Dean and this is Sam."

"No way," Craig's face lit up. "I'm a writer, too. I write for my school's lit magazine."

"Ah, good for you, Morrison," Dean chuckled as he began to look through the crate of records in front of him. He completely missed the confused look that Craig gave him but Sam noticed and cleared his throat.

"Um, we're doing an article on local hauntings and rumor has it you might know of one," Sam smiled at Craig, wishing that Julia was here to get the information out of him—she was much better with the guys than he was.

"You mean the Hell House?" Craig asked.

Dean nodded, looking up from the records. "That's the one."

"I didn't think there was anything to the story," Craig said avoidantly.

"Why don't you tell us the story."

"Well, supposedly, back in the thirties, this farmer named Mordechai Murdoch used to live in this house with his six daughters," Craig told them after a moment of hesitation. "It was during the Depression, his crops were failing, and he didn't have enough money to feed his own children. So, I guess that's when he went off the deep end."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "How?"

"Well, he figured it was best if his girls died quick rather than starve to death, so he attacked them," Craig stated. "They screamed, begged for him to stop but he just strung them up, one after the other. And, when he was all finished, he just turned around and hung himself. Now, they say that his spirit is trapped in the house forever, stringing up any other girl that goes inside."

Dean pressed his lips together; the story Craig was telling sounded just like that. A story. His words were something out of a dramatic novel, not a true story. And what parent would just kill their kids instead of trying to do whatever it took to make sure they lived?

"Where'd you hear all of this?" he asked Craig.

"My cousin, Dana, told me. I don't know where she heard it from. You gotta realize, I didn't believe this for a second."

"But now you do," Sam assumed.

"I don't know what the hell to think, man," Craig shrugged. "You guys, I'll tell you exactly what I told the police, okay? That girl was real. This was not a prank. I swear to God, I don't wanna go anywhere near that house ever again."

Dean shared a look with Sam and then nodded at Craig. "Thanks."

A half-hour later, Sam and Dean were walking through mud to get to the so-called Hell House. It was creepy looking, they had to admit, but not anything less creepy than the things they saw everyday during their job. It was just a little run-down house, not much else.

"I can't say I blame the kid," Sam sighed, his eyes searching the grounds around the house.

"Yeah," Dean agreed as they got closer to the house. "so much for curb appeal."

Sam took a look around the perimeter of the house while Dean pulled out the EMF meter. It whirled like it usually did when there was anything unusual around but the way it started up as soon as he pressed it on, made him think that something was off.

He tapped the device, frustrated, as Sam came back over to him.

"You got something?"

"Yeah, the EMF's no good," Dean looked around, the powerlines above the house catching his eye.

"Why?"

Dean nodded at the power lines. "I think that thing's still got a little juice in it. It's screwing with all the readings."

Sam sighed heavily. "Yeah, that'd do it."

"Come on, let's go."

They entered the house, finding that it was unlocked in its abandoned state. They started in the front room and then moved onto the living room where a fireplace lined with various candles was. The walls were covered in spray paint, a bunch of different symbols that didn't really even go together scattered randomly around the room.

Dean whistled sarcastically. "Looks like old man Murdoch was a bit of a tagger in his time."

"And after his time, too," Sam muttered, eyeing a symbol of an encircled cross. "That reverse cross has been used by Satanists for centuries but this sigil of Sulfur didn't show up in San Francisco until the sixties."

Dean gave Sam a long took, wrinkling his nose. "How do you know that?"

"I listen to Julia when she talks about this kind of stuff," Sam said pointedly, knowing that Dean checked out whenever something that required a little brain power was brought up.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Shuddup," he walked across the room, looking at more of the symbols on the walls. He stopped in front of one that looked like an upside-down question mark with two little lines on either side. It looked kind of familiar. "Hey, what about this one? Have you seen this one before?"

Sam studied the symbol and took a picture of it with his phone. "No."

"I have...Somewhere," he couldn't place it, though.

Sam cautiously reached toward the symbol, rubbing it with his fingertips. "It's paint," he studied the slight stain that it left. "Seems pretty fresh, too."

Dean sighed and turned away from the symbol. "I don't know, Sam. You know I hate to agree with authority figures of any kind but the cops may be right about this one."

"Yeah, maybe—"

A loud noise cut off Sam's agreement. The brothers instantly went on alert and followed the noise to a door that led to another room. They stood on either side of it; when Sam nodded, Dean whipped open the door and stepped into the room.

He was immediately attacked by bright beams of lights right in his eyes and two groans of horror. When the flashlights flitted away, he could see that there were two guys in front of them, around his age with camera gear.

The brunette groaned. "Oh, cut. It's just a couple of humans," he told his companion, who shut the camera off. "What are you guys doing here?"

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Dean countered.

"Uh, we belong here," the ginger guy with the camera drawled. "We're professionals."

"Professional what?"

"Paranormal investigators," the ginger reached into his pocket and pulled out a card to give to them. "Here you go, take a look at that, boys."

Dean took the card and read it. He groaned in realization, "Oh, you gotta be kidding me."

"Ed Zeddmore and Harry Spangler? Hellhoundslair.com," Sam read over his shoulder. "You guys run that website?"

Ed, who was the ginger with the camera, nodded. "Yeah."

"Oh, yeah, yeah, we're huge fans," Dean said sarcastically as he passed Ed and Harry to check out more of the kitchen.

"And we know who you guys are, too," Ed said.

Dean and Sam turned to face him sharply. "Oh, yeah?"

"Amateurs," as soon as the words were out of Ed's mouth, Dean pursed his lips and turned away once again. "looking for ghosts and cheap thrills."

"Yep," the other guy, Harry, agreed. "So, if you guys don't mind, we're trying to conduct a serious scientific investigation here."

"Yeah?" Dean noticed a gadget that they must have brought with them on the counter; he picked it up to inspect it. "What do you have so far?"

"Harry, why don't you tell them about EMF?" Ed prompted his friend.

Harry hesitated. "Well..."

"EMF?" Sam played dumb and Dean saw that he was trying not to smile.

"Electromagnetic field," Harry told him as though he was an expert. "Spectral entities can cause energy fluctuations that can be read with an EMF detector," he pulled a EMF reader out of his canvas vest. "Like this bad boy right here."

He turned on the EMF, causing it to whirl angrily. "Woah, woah," he exchanged an excited look with Ed while Dean smirked at Sam. "It's two-point-eight MG."

"Two-point-eight," Ed repeated excitedly. "It's hot in here."

Dean whistled mockingly while Sam tried not to laugh. "Wow."

"Huh," Dean clicked his tongue. "So, have you guys ever really seen a ghost before?"

"Once," Ed looked back to where Dean was standing by the counters. "We were, uh, we were investigation this old house and we saw a vase fall right off the table."

"By itself," Harry added needlessly.

"Well, we didn't actually see it, we heard it," Ed corrected himself but grew serious again. "And something like that...it, uh, it changes you."

"Yeah, I think I get the picture," Dean crossed his arms over his chest and walked over to Sam. "We should go, let them get back to work."

"Yeah, you should."

Dean nodded at his brother and then the door. "Sam."

Sam followed him out of the kitchen and they left the house, not wanting to deal with the kids who wanted to enter the big leagues.

Julia kneaded the sugar cookie dough on the counter in front of her, humming along to whatever Disney song that the radio that was playing throughout the kitchen. Lizzie was on her side of the island, cutting out cookies with a heart-shaped cookie cutter while Beth and Abby were on the other side, decorating some of the finished cookies with colorful icing.

Once that song was finished, a familiar one started, making her smile.

"Oh, I love this song!" Abby exclaimed while concentrating on the flower cookie she was creating. "Let's get down to business to defeat the Huns!"

"Did they send me daughters when I asked for sons?" Beth joined in.

Julia sang next. "You're the saddest bunch I ever met but you can bet before we're through..."

"Mister, I'll make a man out of you!" Lizzie finished loudly, making Julia, Beth, and Abby laugh.

They continued singing along to the best song that Mulan produced while making cookies. When Lizzie was finished with the rest of the heart batch, Julia slid the tray into the oven. Once she set the timer, she gave Lizzie the last batch of dough, allowing her to cut out some dinosaurs.

"I'm done with the dinosaurs, Momma!" Lizzie announced once the dough was gone.

"Good job, cutie," Beth smiled. "Why don't you go wash your hands?"

"Okay!" Lizzie climbed off the stool she was standing on and ran out of the kitchen to the nearest bathroom.

"Use soap!" Beth called after her; once she was sure her daughter couldn't overhear her, she turned to Julia. "So..."

Julia pursed her lips, knowing what was coming. Since Dean and Sam left four days before, Beth had been waiting to talk to her about something. She had that look in her eyes where she wanted girl talk and it also occurred every time Dean called her. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together.

Julia sighed and started wiping the excess flour from the counter. "So what?"

Beth smiled coyly and Abby shook her head impatiently. "She wants to know about you and Dean."

"What about me and Dean?"

There was no her and Dean, no matter how much Julia wanted that. She had moments recently when she and Dean spoke—especially when Sam wasn't joining the conversations—where she thought Dean might have the same romantic feelings that she had but she wasn't sure. Dean cared about his family and he considered her and the rest of the Petersen family his family. It wasn't like he was pining after her the same way she was pining after him.

"Oh, stop deflecting, Julia Ruth," Beth scolded her. "There's something going on with you and Dean and I—" Abby cleared her throat and Beth corrected herself, "—we want to know."

Julia scoffed and threw her washcloth into the sink. "There is nothing going on. Trust me."

Beth and Abby exchanged skeptical looks. "But you want there to be, don't you?" Beth guessed; she gasped loudly when she saw Julia scratch her cheek. "Oh, my God, you do!"

"No, I don't!"

"You scratched your cheek, you liar," Abby pointed out with a laugh. Julia scowled at her. "We're sisters, Jules. Sisters talk about this stuff."

"I've never talked to you about my boyfriends before," Julia protested.

"That's because by the time you had an actual boyfriend you were at Stanford," Beth reminded her. "and you did use to talk to me about boys. Remember that guy you liked when you were in high school?"

"Ugh, don't remind me," Julia groaned; Abby and Beth gave her expectant looks. "Fine, I like Dean. Happy?"

"Extremely," Abby smirked. "He sucked you back in, huh? How old were you when your crush on him finally went away?"

Julia blushed. "Fourteen."

Abby snorted in amusement. "Yeah, now I remember."

Julia sent her a glare while Beth slapped her arm. "Abby, stop," she scolded her before turning back to Julia. "Ignore her, Jules. It were cute."

"A fourteen-year-old crushing on a guy who was twenty? Yeah right," Julia scoffed. "And that's the problem, isn't it? He's almost seven years older than me. He doesn't see me as anything but a little sister."

Abby calmed her laughter. "Jules, Dean doesn't look at you like a sister," she told her baby sister. "He looks at me and Beth as sisters. He looks at you like you're sex on legs."

It was Beth's turn to giggle as Julia's cheeks darkened further and she ducked her head.

"And Sam says that he always checks you out," Abby added.

Julia looked up sharply. "He did?" Abby nodded. "Since when do you talk to Sam?"

"Since he grew up to be a hottie with a body."

Julia rolled her eyes so heavily that it hurt. "No one actually says that, Ab."

"Since when were we talking about me?" Abby protested as Beth laughed again. "my point it that Dean wants to fuck you."

"Okay, the five-year-old is going to be back any second so let's not use that language," Beth smothered her laughter as they heard the faucet cut off in the bathroom. "But, seriously, Julia, he likes you."

"What we're going from sex to feelings now?" Julia asked incredulously. "Sex, I get. I'm hot and Dean loves sex but feelings? Are we talking about the same Dean Winchesters, here?"

"I wanna talk about Uncle Dean!" Lizzie chirped as she ran back into the kitchen. She climbed back onto her stool and looked eagerly at her mom and aunts. "Are you talking about the crush he has on Auntie Jules?"

Julia gaped at her while Abby pointed enthusiastically. "See? Lizzie sees it too."

"That's because Beth's poisoning her mind."

"No," Lizzie protested innocently. "I heard Uncle Sammy and Auntie Abby talking about it."

"Well, I'm so glad that my love life is so interesting to you guys," Julia huffed with warm cheeks. She glanced at the oven, wishing the timer for the cookies would go off so they could change the subject.

"Look," Beth sighed. "Dean calls you multiple times a day, every day just to see how you're doing. Do you think he does that to anyone else who isn't Sam?"

"He's checking up on me."

"Don't give us that sh—crap," Abby shook her head, correcting herself before she could cuss in front of Lizzie. "You're scared that you'll put yourself out there and get rejected."

"Because it's Dean!" Julia exclaimed, frustrated. "Dean, who doesn't do relationships. So what if I want to protect myself? That's good."

"It's good to protect yourself," Beth agreed and grabbed Julia's clenched fists. "but you and Dean...you should see each other. You look at him when he's not looking, he looks at you when you're not looking. You move even an inch and he's shifting toward you. The way I see it, is this isn't a passing fancy."

"You're together every day, you fight along side each other, you protect one another," Abby continued. "You trust each other and that's rare in our profession, Jules. Even I can see that you guys have something special."

Julia wrinkled her nose thoughtfully. It was nice hearing her sisters say these things but she couldn't tell Dean about her less than platonic feelings for him. He was too important to her and she didn't want to lose him, even if it meant she had to get over her feelings. Dean didn't do relationships and she had tried the one-night stand thing and it didn't go well for her. Maybe it wasn't meant to be.

As if the universe was disagreeing with her, her phone rang from the counter by the fridge. Lizzie eagerly climbed off her stool again and raced toward the phone, flipping it open.

"Hi, this is Lizzie!" she chirped before gasping excitedly. "Uncle Dean, we were just talking about you!"

"Lizzie!" Julia lunged toward her niece, ignoring her flour-covered hands to grab the phone from her. She pressed it against her ear. "Uh, hey, Dean."

"Hi there, shortcake," Dean's voice was coy. "Heard that you girls were talking about me. Are there gonna be pillow fights next because, if you want, you could—"

"Okay," Julia hurried interrupted him, waving frantically at her sisters as they laughed at the mortified expression on her face. "We were, um, we're making cookies actually, so...yeah."

"And I just so happen to come up in the conversation?" she could practically hear the smirk on his lips.

"Uh, yeah, because," she walked out of the kitchen and into the bathroom next door, shutting the door firmly behind her. "I was telling Lizzie that you liked pie instead of cookies."

Dean perked up. "You guys are making pie?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," Julia agreed even though they hadn't really planned on it. "So, what's going on down there?"

"Eh, we got some more information," Dean sighed, becoming serious again. "Some kid told us that a guy named Mordechai Murdoch killed his six daughters during the Depression but what Sam found didn't quite match up."

Julia frowned. "Well, what did he find?"

"That the guy's name was actually Martin and he had two sons instead of six daughters," Dean informed her. "There's nothing to say he ever killed anyone."

"Huh," Julia wrinkled her nose. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, I talked to the police and there's no missing persons, either," Dean paused for a second. "Jules, we dug like you wanted but we don't think there's anything here."

"Well, that's good, then," Julia said. "No spirit, no dead people, right?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Well, on your way back, you can stop in Houston," she suggested. "I, um, I got that NASA tour for Levi, remember?"

"Jules, we can't—"

"Yeah, you can," Julia insisted. "I don't want it to go to waste and you love that kind of stuff, Dean. You and Sam deserve some fun once in a while, you know?"

Dean was quiet for a few seconds. "All right. We'll check it out."

"Good," she smiled. "I'll email Sam the information about the tour and hotel."

"Thanks, shortcake," Dean's voice cheered up a little. "I'll call you later when we head out, okay?"

"Okay, talk later. Bye, Dean."

"Bye."

Julia snapped the phone shut and sighed, pressing it to her chest. She was glad that she got to the phone before Lizzie could spill on what they were really talking about. Dean was already insufferable when he knew they were talking about him but if he knew that they were talking about feelings and sex and all that, his ego wouldn't be able to fit in the Hancock building.

She slipped her flour-covered phone into her apron pocket and quickly washed her hands before heading back to the kitchen.

Before Sam and Dean could even leave town, they got a call from the detective Dean spoke with the day before. The sun was still setting when he called, telling them to get to the Hell House as soon as possible. When they arrived on scene, a body bag was being carted to the coroner's van. The detective informed them that a girl had hung herself in the house, which sounded just like the Mordechai story went.

They went back to the Hell House around midnight and dodged the cops when those nerds, Ed and Harry showed up. Mordechai ended up attacking with an ax and was immune to rock salt, which led them to more research.

Dean sat on his bed, drawing that familiar symbol on the notepad that the motel provided. "What the hell is this symbol? It's bugging the hell out of me," he looked up at Sam, who was researching at the table. "This whole fucking job is bugging me. I thought the legend said Mordechai only goes after chicks."

"It does," Sam said distractedly, focusing on his laptop.

"All right, well, that explains why he went after you but why me?"

"Hilarious," Sam looked away from the screen to scowl at him. "The legend also says he hung himself but did you see those slit wrists?"

"Yeah."

"What's up with that?" Sam shook his head. "And the ax, too. I mean, ghosts are usually pretty strict, right? Following the same patterns over and over again?"

Dean nodded. "This dick keeps changing."

"Exactly. I'm telling you, the way the story goes..." Sam typed in Ed and Harry's website and pressed enter, waiting as it loaded. His eyes widened when he saw a new article about the Hell House. "Wait a minute."

Dean looked up from his notepad. "What?"

"Someone added a new post to the Hell Hound site," Sam informed him. "Listen to this: They say Mordechai Murdoch was really a Satanist who chopped up his victims with an ax before slitting his own wrists. Now, he's imprisoned in the house for eternity."

Dean sat up as he stared at the symbol he had drawn, finally recognizing it.

"Where the hell is this going?"

"I don't know but I think I might have just figured out where it all started," Dean rolled off his bed. "Come on, we gotta go to the record store."

They entered the record store not long after, spotting Craig at the cash register.

"Hey, Craig," Dean called to him over the loud rock music playing through the store. "Remember us?"

Craig sighed. "Guys, look, I'm really not in the mood to answer any of your questions, okay?"

"Oh, don't worry," Dean waved him off as he stopped in front of the record crate marked with the second letter of the alphabet. "We're just here to buy an album, that's all."

He quickly flicked through the records in the crate and pressed his lips together when he found the one he was looking for. On the back of a Blue Oyster Cult record, he saw the symbol he had recognized at the Hell House.

He grabbed it and slowly walked over to Craig with Sam on his heels.

"You know, I couldn't figure out what that symbol was and then I realized that it doesn't mean anything," Dean told Sam conversationally, his voice hardening toward the end. "It's the logo for the Blue Oyster Cult. Tell me, Craig, you into BOC or just scaring the hell out of people?"

When Craig turned around to face him and Sam, he handed the Blue Oyster Cult album to him. He took it and flipped it over, eyes flitting over the cover art, which included the symbol that was spray painted at the Hell House.

"Why don't you tell us about that house," Dean suggested. "Without lying through your ass this time."

Craig looked up at Dean for a moment. "All right," he sighed heavily. "My cousin Dana was on a break from TCU. I guess we were just bored and looking for something to do. So, I showered her this abandoned dump I found. We thought it would be funny if we made it look like it was haunted so we painted symbols on the walls, some from albums, some from some of Dana's theology textbooks."

"Then, we found out this guy, Murdoch, used to live there so we made up some story to go along with that," he continued. "They told people, who told other people, and then these two guys put it on their stupid website. Everything just took a life of its own."

Dean blinked at him; something about what he said was familiar.

"I mean, I thought it was funny at first, but..." Craig shook his head sadly. "That girl's dead. It was just a joke, you know? I mean, none of it was real. We just made the whole thing up, I swear!"

Sam nodded. "All right."

As they turned away from Craig to leave the record store, Dean muttered to Sam, "If none of it was real, how the fuck do you explain Mordechai?"

Dean was trying so hard not to smirk as he watched Sam wiggle around in his seat, trying not to scratch at his crotch. While his brother was in the shower, he had sprinkled itching powder into Sam's underwear and now he was able to watch the whole thing unfold right in front of him.

If only shortcake was here, too, he sighed mentally.

Sam was in the middle of talking to Julia on the phone, telling her his thoughts about Mordechai being a tulpa when Dean interrupted him, "Dude, what's your problem?"

"Nothing, I'm fine," Sam said avoidantly.

"What's going on?" Julia's voice came from the speaker.

"Nothing," Sam assured her. "So, these tulpas...There was this incident in Tibet in 1915. A group of monks visualized a golem in their head. They meditated on it so hard that they brought the thing to life out of thin air."

"Okay, well, there are thousands of people on the internet," Julia said thoughtfully.

"Exactly," Sam nodded, wincing as he picked at his itchy jeans. "I mean, Craig starts the story about Mordechai and then it spreads and goes online where countless people believe in the bastard."

"Wait a second," Dean spoke up. "People believe in Santa Claus so how come I'm not getting hooked up every Christmas?"

"Cause you're a bad person," Sam opened his laptop, still squirming, and pulled up a photo of the sigil that brought tulpas to life. He showed it to Dean. "And because of this. That's a Tibetan spirit sigil on the wall of the house. Craig said they were painting symbols from a theology textbook. I bet they painted this, not even knowing what it was."

On the phone, they could hear a thump of a book and then pages being flipped. "Okay, this book says that the sigil has been used to centuries, concentrating meditative thoughts like a magnifying glass. So, people who are on the Hell Hounds website, staring at the symbol and thinking about Mordechai...would that be enough to bring a tulpa to life?"

"It would explain why he keeps changing," Dean answered her.

"Right," Sam adjusted his jeans and added, "as the legend changes, people think different things so the legend itself changes. Like a game of telephone. That would also explain why the rock salt didn't work."

"Yeah, because he's not a traditional spirit," Dean stated, choking back his laughter as Sam started wiggling more than he had. "So, why don't we get this spirit sigil thing-y off the wall and off the website?"

"I don't think it's that simple," Julia sighed as they heard more pages being turned. "Once a tulpa is created, they take on a life of their own."

"Great," Dean grumped. "So, if he really is a thought form how the fuck are we supposed to kill an idea?"

"Well, that's not gonna be easy with these guys helping us," Sam showed him the video Ed and Harry put up on their website. "Since they posted the footage, their number of hits have quadrupled in the last day alone."

"Huh," Dean clicked his tongue thoughtfully. "I've got an idea but we have to find a copy store."

"What are you thinking?" Julia wondered.

"We're gonna give these boys a story and change the legend," Dean told her as Sam forcefully stood up and did a weird walk to relieve himself. "Dude, what the hell?"

"I think I'm allergic to our soap or something."

Dean snickered as Julia spoke up, "What? We use hypoallergenic soap, Sam."

Dean's laughter increased as Sam did a weird lunge in the middle of the motel room. Sam immediately stood up to his full height and glowered at his older brother.

"You did this?!"

Dean couldn't talk, he was laughing so hard.

"You're a fucking jackass!"

Dean continued to laugh, standing up from his chair to dodge the attack coming his way.

As Sam chased Dean around the room, they didn't notice as Julia sighed, "All right, I'm gonna hang up now."

After Dean and Sam told Ed and Harry about this new legend that they found—in which Mordechai would be killed with a pistol and wrought-iron bullets—and a little prank Sam pulled on Dean—where he superglued his beer bottle to the palm of his hand—they headed back to the Hell House to kill the tulpa once and for wall.

They entered the house with their firearms drawn and slowly walked their way around, looking for any sign of Mordechai.

Dean winced as he tightened his hand around his gun. "I barely have any skin left on my palm."

Sam snickered. "I'm not touching that line with a ten-foot pole."

Dean pressed his lips together, irritated, and flashed his light straight into Sam's eyes until he flinched. Once he was satisfied that he got some sort of revenge on his little brother, he continued on through the living room and into the kitchen. "So, do you think old Mordechai's home?"

"I don't know," Sam pointed his gun at the door that led to the basement.

"Me either."

Sam and Dean whipped around at the new voice, pointing their pistols in Ed and Harry's faces.

"Woah, woah!" Ed shouted while Harry lifted his hands in the air to show he meant no harm.

Sam raised his gun away from them. "What are you trying to do, get yourselves killed?"

"We're just trying to get a book and movie deal, okay?"

Before either of the irritated brothers could say another word, a crash came from the basement door. They instantly went back on alert, aiming their guns back at the door.

"Oh, shit," Ed muttered from behind them, focusing his camera on the action. "Hey, guys, do you wanna—you wanna open that door for us?"

"Why don't you?" Dean dared him.

None of them even stepped closer to the basement door as Mordechai burst through, growling at them while waving his ax in the air. Dean and Sam immediately took their shots but Mordechai didn't falter. It was only after full rounds that he disappeared but not in the way they wanted him too.

Sam and Dean immediately left the kitchen to check the other rooms on the first floor.

"Wait a minute?" Ed said breathlessly. "He's gone? He's gone."

"Did you get him?" Harry asked him urgently.

"Yeah, they got him."

"No," Harry shook his head. "On camera. Did you get him on camera?"

Ed faltered. "Well, I..."

Harry grabbed the camera from him. "Let me see it, let me see it."

He flipped open the little screen but was pushed to the floor as Mordechai appeared, smashing the camera with his ax. Dean ran back into the room after hearing some loud noises and glared at them.

"Hey, didn't you guys post that bullshit story we gave you?" he barked at them.

"Of course we did," Harry answered, getting to his feet as Sam came back into the room. "But then our server crashed."

Ed nodded in agreement. "Yeah."

"So, it didn't take?" Ed and Harry shook their heads at Dean's question. "These guns don't work?"

"No."

"Great," Dean sighed and turned to his brother. "Sam, any ideas?"

Sam shrugged; no ideas. None whatsoever.

"We're getting out of here," Harry spoke up.

"Yeah," Ed agreed quickly. "Great idea."

They left the kitchen, only to run into Mordechai again. They screamed and ran for the front door but it was locked and they were unable to get out. They turned to see Mordechai and followed them to the front door and was slowly advancing toward them, raising his ax.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph."

"The power of Christ compels you!" Ed shouted at the tulpa. "The power of Christ compels. THE POWER OF CHRIST COMPELS YOU."

Any other time, what Ed was saying would make Dean laugh so hard. But, alas, now was not the time for amusement. Sam ran up to the front door and shouted at Mordechai, getting his attention.

"Hey! Come and get it, you ugly son of a bitch!"

While Sam and Mordechai fought and Ed and Harry ran out of harm's way, Dean found some lighter fluid in the kitchen. He quickly sprayed it all over the floor and onto the cupboards before heading into the living room to spray it there, too.

"DEAN!"

Hearing Sam's shout of help, Dean quickly grabbed a bottle of spray paint and pulled his lighter out of his pocket before running toward his brother and Mordechai.

"Hey!" he shouted at the tulpa before lighting his lighter and spraying the paint at the same time, creating a homemade blow torch.

Mordechai let Sam go and disappeared; Dean grabbed Sam and helped him run back into the living room.

"Mordechai can't leave the house and we can't kill him? We improvise."

He showed Sam his lighter and clicked it out before throwing it onto the floor. The old wooden beams lit up immediately and Sam and Dean took off, knocking down the front door and jumping off the porch.

As they ran into the trees, Sam turned to Dean incredulously. "That's your solution?" he pointed at the flaming house. "Burn the whole damn place to the ground?"

"Well, nobody will go in anymore," Dean shrugged. "I mean, look, Mordechai can't haunt a house if there's no house to haunt. It's fast and dirty but it works."

"Well, what if the legend changes again and Mordechai is allowed to leave the house?"

"Well, then, we'll just have to come back."

Sam sighed at Dean's nonchalant answer and turned back to the house. "Kind of makes you wonder," he said. "Of all the things we hunted, how many existed just because people believed in them."

Dean didn't answer but he thought about what Sam said as he continued to watch the house burn. It did kind of make him wonder but he couldn't really consider that. No matter if a supernatural was real just because someone believed in them, they were still killing them and saving people.

It was the family business, after all.

(Gif is not mine)

#supernatural rewrite #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x original character

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percywinchester27 · 6 years

Text

Tic Tac Toe (Part-13)

Word count: 4.9k-ish

Pairing: Sam X Reader

Warnings: Angst, Feels, Fluff!

Series Summary: The reader shifts into a new city after being offered a dream job by a big firm. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect after an ugly break-up with a douche-bag Ex. But things turn out not as dreamy as she’d want them to be and the only thing that keeps her smiling is a totally coincidental game of Tic Tac Toe.

A/N: Okay I LOVE this chapter. For so many reasons!! I hope you guys do too :)

Please leave some feedback? It’s what keeps me going. LOVE Y’all!

Beta: The forever awesome @sdavid09 and my darling @vougebandit. You guys rock!!

Catch up: Part 1, Tic Tac Toe Masterlist

As you closed your eyes, scooting as close as possible to Sam without touching him in that tiny bed, you vowed that tomorrow, you'd make it up to him, because he was worth so much more than the trivial accusations. He was the best and you promised yourself that you'd do everything to show him exactly that...

Reader's POV:

You opened your eyes, feeling the chill settle in every part of your body. The room was light, so you guessed it was morning already, but it wasn't light enough to be too late. How you wished that you had woken up like yesterday, innocently nestled in Sam's arms, but he was still sleeping ramrod straight on his back, away from you. The only contact was where your hand rested on his stomach as you slept on your side facing him.

His face didn't look as serene as you'd come to expect, but the creases on his forehead weren't too pronounced either. They were sublime and it made you feel horrible. The corners of your eyes pricked and you gulped, willing yourself to be stronger. This was your screw up so you didn't get to play the victim here.

Carefully, you scooted closer to Sam on the ridiculously small bed. He'd had to sleep on the extreme edge to achieve the feat of not touching you at all. Was he that upset? Was he that mad? It made you hesitate, but then you made up your mind and pushed your hand farther, wrapping it around his waist and snuggling close to him.

Sam stilled underneath you, and you immediately closed your eyes, groaning sleepily.

You could feel Sam draw in a deep breath, before his hand settle over your head, hesitantly. It lingered there for a fraction of a second and then he removed it. You could hear his small sigh.

"Is there any chance you'd consider forgiving me?" You asked in a small voice.

Sam gently disentangled his torso from your limbs, and propped himself up on his elbows. "Y/N?"

Timidly, you peeked up at him. His eyes were confused but clear like the morning sky. There was no anger or resentment there.

"Why would I be angry with you?"

"Because of last night?" You looked down. It would have been better if Sam was angry, because you couldn't offer an explanation when he wasn't asking for one.

"You mean for pretending to be asleep when I came in, and then walking out on me in the dead of the night?"

"Yes that." You hung your head.

Sam put a finger underneath your chin and lifted it up. You looked up to see that he was smiling a small smile. You launched into an explanation still.

"I just… I am so sorry…"

"Shhhh…." He put a finger to your lips. "Why are you saying sorry?"

"Because," you started slowly, "Because I think I hurt you."

"No you did not," Sam said firmly. "Last night, I asked you to wait up for me, and then when I figured out that you were pretending to sleep, and later when you walked out, I was afraid that maybe I pushed you too soon."

Oh god! Sam was making this about himself, when it wasn't.

He continued. "I know it's been just a week, and you're right, it is too soon. I should have realized that you must still be not ready… after what happened with your Ex."

You simply stared at him. All that time you'd spent worrying that Sam would be angry with you, he'd been beating himself up and feeling guilty about something that had nothing to do with yesterday. But like hell you were going to tell him the truth. It was better to let him feel guilty about this than telling him what happened last evening. You didn't want to cause a fight between Sam and John.

"Why didn't you talk to me last night? Why didn't you stop me from going away?" You asked.

"I-I wanted to. But I was scared that if I stopped you, I'd just push you further away," he said, running his fingers through his hair.

"No, Sam!" You said finally, not able to keep it in. "It's not you. You can never push me, you are not that person. I just wasn't in a good space and I didn't want to drag you with me. I was so scared that I'd hurt you in the process."

You expected Sam to refute your apology, but he seemed deep in thought.

"I thought you had decided to go sleep in the guest room actually, and I couldn't sleep so I took a walk downstairs to the pier, to clear my head, and I saw you there, sitting with Dean."

You stilled. "What?"

"Yeah," he said. "The two of you were talking, so I turned and walked back up. Put out clothes for you and then went to sleep."

"But I thought you couldn't sleep," you pointed out.

"Yeah I had been over thinking before, but then I saw you with Dean and that relaxed me a little. I figured Dean would make everything alright," he shrugged, making you smile.

"He's kind of awesome, isn't he?"

"Yeah, he gets it from me," Sam smirked.

"Shut up!" You giggled, and he laughed with you, the sound echoing off the tiny cluttered walls. You couldn't help yourself. You slowly leaned forward, making your intentions perfectly clear and captured his lips in yours, kissing him slowly, but deeply.

Sam's hand reflexively came up to brush the hair out of your face, as he closed his eyes, the other hand clutching at the exposed skin of your lower back where the plaid had ridden up. You moaned into his mouth when you felt his skin come in contact with yours and your hands tugged at the hem of his T-shirt.

Sam's hands immediately cuffed your wrists, tucking them at your side, as he pulled away. You gave him a confused look, and he shook his head.

"Not like this, Y/N. Not because you feel like you have to, and certainly not because you think it's your job to make up for what happened yesterday. We'll do it only because we want to."

You wanted to tell him that he was wrong. That you were doing this because you wanted to, but he was right. Even though most of you wanted to do this, had wanted to do this since the minute you set eyes on him, there was a part of you that felt guilty about last night. Taking this next step because of any reason apart from love would be unfair to Sam, unfair to both of you.

You sighed and rolled over, but Sam's hand shot out to grip you before you completely fell over.

"Hey," he whispered softly, his face coming to nuzzle your neck. "I love you!"

"I love you too," you smiled, wondering for the umpteenth time how in the name of everything that is holy did you get so lucky?

"C'mon handsome," you slapped his back lightly, "We need to be up and about. I'll hit the showers first."

The breakfast was an awkward affair. You tried to be perfectly polite to both John and Mary, but that also made you awfully formal. John seemed to be a little surprised, and Mary seemed on edge, but it was good that Sam hadn't really seen you interact with his parents much to note the difference.

He did seem bemused at the lack of conversation though, but you had decided to hold your own in front of John. Sure the company was his, but right now, he was your boyfriend's dad and whatever image he might be harboring of you wasn't true, so you weren't going to steal looks, no. You were going to raise that chin and walk around with dignity. John Winchester could suck it.

The weirdest thing was, as formal as you were with John, Sam was even more so. Their conversation mostly revolved around the big employee shift from the head office to one in Lawrence and from Lawrence to unit 3. It seemed even more prescribed than office meetings. You tried to pay complete attention to your conversation with Mary, but snippets could still be overheard from theirs.

You gathered that there was supposed to be some big send off party in the evening for all the staff moving around. That, and the fact that January was going to be one hell of a month because of all the management changes. You didn't know whether you were excited for it, or already tired at the prospect.

It was only when Mary had disappeared into the kitchen to get more eggs that you really paid attention. It seemed that Sam was refusing to be at the party.

Later, when the two of you were out shopping, you brought it up with him.

"Why do you not want to go that party?"

"So you heard that huh?" He asked, his eyes not giving away anything.

"Yeah, I caught bits and parts," you shrugged. "So why do you not want to go?"

Sam considered for a minute, before slowly saying, "It's a campfire. I-I thought maybe you wouldn't want to go."

"Why wouldn't I?" You smirked. "Don't you want to show off your new girlfriend?"

All the worry dissipated from Sam's eyes. "Of course I want to."

The two of you spent the morning getting you some clothes. A couple tank tops and pajama shorts. That would suffice till you went to your mom's place for New Year. Despite the jokes you'd made with Dean, you paid for your own clothes.

That afternoon, Sam took you to a small but very comfortable bistro. He did all those things you knew he would, like pulling chairs, opening doors, asking you to pick what you wanted to eat instead of just picking it for you, but it still surprised you. Mark was a dick, and you shouldn't even be thinking of comparing Sam to him, but Sam's gentlemanly instincts took you by surprise anyway.

"Are you gonna tell me which embarrassing stories Dean told you about me last night?" Sam asked. His tone was light, but you could sense that he was curious.

"Just one," you winked. "Something about a failed math test."

Sam chuckled. "Of course he had to tell that!"

"He came there looking for you actually," you told him. "Thought he'd find you there. Guess, he wasn't wrong after all, was he?"

"No he wasn't." Sam smiled.

The rest of the conversation flowed easily, but you couldn't help but wonder whether Sam had something on his mind. You wanted to ask him, but you also knew that if he was ready to share, he'd do it himself. When it was time to leave and both you and Sam were in the car, he looked you deep in the eyes.

"Do you really want to go the campfire?" He asked earnestly.

"Do you?" You countered.

In that one second, he slipped. You could see through him, that he was hesitating taking you there, and for the life of you, you couldn't fathom why.

"Look, if you don't wanna go, we don't have to," you told him. "It doesn't matter whether I want to or not, because I want to spend the evening with you."

He gave you a long searching look, before you saw the resolve form in his eyes. "You want to go, so we are going."

"But-"

"Don't worry about it, okay?"

Sam's POV:

The night was very chilly, and Sam was worried about the fact that Y/N didn't have a coat. The afternoon had been relatively warm and during all the shopping it hadn't occurred to either of them to buy a coat.

Sam smiled to himself as he shrugged out of his own coat and offered it to Y/N. "Here," he said. "It's getting cold."

She grinned slyly up at him and Sam could have kissed her then and there.

"Don't go thinking you can keep this one too," he reminded her. "You already have one of mine."

"I plan to do no such thing, Sir," she looked up at him through her long lashes, making his heart skip a beat. She was doing it on purpose and that warmed his panicked heart a bit as they walked towards the backyard of the house where a huge campfire had been set up.

Sam could feel his pulse quicken the moment he saw the roaring fire. It seemed to meet the sky as the flames consumed the fuel, reducing it to red hot embers. He didn't realise he'd stopped walking till Y/N tugged at his arm.

"Sam?" She asked softly.

He resumed walking, knowing how this must look to her and he hated himself for not being completely able to assuage her insecurities. He could guess what she was thinking, that he was embarrassed to show her off in front of his staff, as if such a belief could even exist. Truth be told, Sam felt proud to be walking next to her. She was kind and charming and so very brave, and that was why he was reluctant to come to the campfire, especially with her.

She was brave, and he wasn't.

He knew he should have told her the moment she first asked, but he could also see the excitement in her eyes at the mention of the gathering. And so he didn't. He didn't tell her how excruciatingly scared he was of fire, and of having her anywhere near fire.

Scenes from the night before's nightmare flashed across his vision. The burning house, the restraining hands and the dying scream… Y/N's scream. Sam had to fight the urge to tightly grasp Y/N's hand and drag her as far away from the scene before him as possible. Hide her from his own cruel fate, but he knew his thoughts were selfish, just like his fears. He held Y/N just a little tighter.

A slap on his back pulled Sam away from his thoughts.

"Long time, no see, son!"

Sam turned around to see Bobby, and he could help the smile that spread across his lips.

"Bobby!" He exclaimed and hugged the old man. "How've you been doing?"

"Good, good! Just missing the good old days, ya know," he said, turning towards Y/N. "You must be Y/N Y/L/N, right? Jo's told us so much about you, and how talented you are."

Y/N gave him a genuine smile. "Likewise Mr. Singer. It's good to finally meet you."

Sam could see Ellen just beyond the burning stack, deep in conversation with Jo and Dean, who seemed to be sweating bullets. Sam knew it had nothing to do with the campfire and Dean's nervousness over the proposal made him smile.

Sam thought it was great that Jo was choosing to stay back in Lawrence after the shift, but he had to admit, as happy as he was for his brother, he was going to miss having her around. They made their way towards her and Jo hugged Y/N hard.

"This is my mom, Ellen," she introduced Ellen, "and my cousin Castiel."

"It's Cas," Cas shook hands with Y/N before pulling Sam into a hug. "It's great to see you Sam."

"Same, Cas," Sam smiled. He then turned to Y/N. "Cas is also an associate with the firm, Y/N."

"And my best friend," Dean piped in. He still looked pale and Sam had to control his grin.

He watched closely as Dean stepped forward and pulled Y/N into a brief hug. She too willingly wrapped her hands around his waist and whispered something in his ear and then both of them laughed. It was a private moment and Sam let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. Up until this point he hadn't realized how important it was to him for Y/N to like Dean and Dean to like her back. They were the two most important people to him now. And seeing them like this made him feel relieved.

Sam watched Y/N disentangle from Dean and converse politely with Cas and Ellen and he couldn't help but feel like the luckiest guy in the world. She was doing so much for him, meeting his family, adjusting to his life especially after what had happened at the office.

He owed her the truth. She deserved to know why he didn't want her to come to the campfire.

Sam bowed his head so it was close to her ear and whispered. "Wanna get out of here?"

She gave him a questioning look which changed into a resigned one. "Sure," she smiled.

He took her hand and guided her towards the back porch. From there, the view of the campfire was clearly visible, but it was far away from eavesdropping ears. Sam led her to the creaky swing and sat down on in, pulling her besides him. She sat willingly enough, her hair swirling around her face. Sam took the stolen moment to himself as he tucked it back in its place.

"We shouldn't have come here, if you didn't want to-"

"be seen with you?" He completed, leaving her dumbstruck.

"Well yeah," she shrugged, trying to hide the hurt in her eyes.

"You really thought that was the reason, didn't you?" Sam looked at her, while she wrangled her fingers in her lap.

"You remember the other night? When I called you at 3 in the morning?"

Y/N looked up and nodded, but it was clear that this was the last thing she had expected him to say. "Yeah, I remember."

"I obviously didn't call you only because I wanted to hear your voice," he laughed mirthlessly, but she was still listening very attentively.

"I- I have trouble sleeping, Y/N. I think you know this, but when I was just an intern at WAA, my house burned down to ground. My then girlfriend, Jessica, she died in that fire." Sam looked up to see your face, expecting god knows what, but instead he found a look of utter compassion there.

"I'm sorry, Sam… I knew that, but I didn't bring it up with you because I knew you would tell me about it when you were ready."

Sam nodded. He gulped once before speaking. "I reached there in time, you know. They told me the fire had been raging on for a couple hours now and that there was no chance that she could be alive. So they didn't let me go in. I struggled and yanked against the arms holding me back, but they wouldn't give up. They didn't give up till I gave up. And you know what? She was alive in there. Somehow she was still alive. We heard her scream that one last dying scream. If only I hadn't listened to them, there was a chance that I could have saved her."

Y/N looked alarmed. "Sam… If you are trying to say that what happened to Jessica was your fault-"

"But wasn't it?" Sam countered, his voice raising off his own accord. "It was Y/N! I should never have given up. But the truth is, it's all my fault, because I was too damn scared to go into that fire."

"Sam what are you saying?" She asked in a low voice.

He took a deep breath to compose himself, before speaking again. "When I was 6 months old, my nursery caught fire." If Y/N had looked alarmed before, she was looking horrified now. Sam continued, "I of course don't remember any of it, but I have a scar on my back from where my skin was burned. I would have died… but mom… she saved me. She pulled me into her arms and took the worst of it upon herself."

"Jesus Christ, Sam," she whispered, horror struck. "How did the two of you survive?"

"Dad pulled her out," Sam said, his voice starting to break a little. "He pulled her out, and Dean saved me from the fire. Her burns weren't intensive, mostly just superficial, but she took a hit to her head because of a beam. There was severe concussion and that landed her in coma. She was there for 4 years."

"4 years?" Y/N was appalled.

"Yeah," Sam sighed. "That and years of therapy after that to get her completely on her feet like she is now. Dean practically raised me. He's been more of a parent to me that either of them actually. I owe just about everything I achieved in my life to him." It was true, and Sam was proud to admit it. Dean was there every time Sam had needed him, as a brother, as a parent and a best friend.

"What about John?"

Sam scoffed. "Every time he saw me, it reminded him of what had happened to his happy family, I guess. He drowned himself in work when mom was in the hospital… Guess he and I are not that different after all, are we?"

Her hands came to cup his face and Sam was shocked to see the tears swimming in her eyes. "Don't say that, Sam. You are a person of your own, and you are very brave."

Sam wanted to believe her, but he couldn't because that was a lie, and she needed to know that. She needed to see him for who he really was.

"Am I, Y/N?" He asked, looking away. "So I was scared of fire, so I was afraid of what had happened to mom, but that didn't give me the right to give up on my girlfriend. She could have been saved, and it's all my damn fault!"

"No Sam, it isn't. For god's sake stop saying it. You didn't give up on her. You would have given up only if you knew she was alive and you had purposely chosen to ignore that. Instead you fought for her even when everyone was convinced she was dead. The fact that she hadn't been, isn't your fault. And who knows, even if you had gone in there to rescue her, there's no saying if she would have made it or not."

"But-"

"No buts Sam," She said firmly. "The sooner you accept that it wasn't your fault, the easier this will be. And she would have wanted you to have your peace of mind. Don't you think?"

He didn't look up. Truth was, he didn't want to look into her beautiful eyes, because there would be empathy there, something he didn't think he deserved.

He felt the swing move as she stepped down and came to stand in between his legs.

"I'm sorry that you had to go through that, I truly am, but I'm not going to let you be scared of fire forever."

"You don't understand," Sam shouted, looking at her wildly. "More than the fire, I am scared of you being near it, Y/N. That night, the nightmare wasn't about Jess burning, it was about you."

It happened so fast that Sam didn't have time to catch his breath, but suddenly she wasn't standing between his legs, she was climbing up his lap. Her fingers fisted in his hair as her mouth met his. There was hunger and desperation as if to prove a point to him, and as Sam pulled her against his chest, he understood it. Instead of telling him, she was trying to show it to him. She was trying to tell him that she wasn't going anywhere, that she wasn't leaving him.

She pulled back, to catch her breath, and Sam couldn't help but chase her lips, wanting to revel in the comfort she was providing, but she held her own, staring into his eyes with the passion of the burning sun.

"C'mon," she murmured, tugging at his hand, as she climbed down from his lap.

"Where are we going?" Sam asked, his voice hoarse.

She kissed their entwined hand before leading him on. "Do you trust me?"

"With my life," he said, without skipping a beat.

"Then come…"

Reader's POV:

You wanted to scream at something, at someone about how unfair it was that Sam was the one to suffer.

You looked at him once as you led him on. His white shirt was wrinkled and the top button was undone. His tie was hanging loosely and his soft, smooth hair was disheveled. To anyone who would look upon the two of you now, would have a completely different idea about what you had been up to, but one look at Sam and that idea would fall apart.

He looked scared. Scared and lost, like a small boy. You knew from every hint his body was giving that he didn't want to be here, that he didn't want you to be here, but you still dragged him towards the roaring flames.

When you were 10 feet away, Sam stopped. He looked you dead in the eyes and shook his head, pleading you to not go nearer. His eyes were terrified and beseeching. But instead, you shrugged out of his coat and tied it around your waist as you walked back towards him. The night was still cold, and the brilliant fire was a source of warmth and comfort.

You slid your arm around his waist, placing a soft kiss on his chest, and gently urged him forwards.

"You trust me," you reminded him. "I'm not going anywhere."

You could feel him take a deep, shaky breath as he stared into the fire and took the next couple of steps with you.

You stepped ahead and pulled both his hands forward, rolling the sleeves of his shirt till his elbows and lifted his hands along with yours so that the palms were facing the fire and once again stepped in front of him, so that you were shielding his body with yours.

"It's alright to feel the warmth," you told him, kissing his shoulder. "It's not going to hurt me, or you… I'm not gonna let that happen."

You could feel a lot of eyes on you. Employees, Sam's friends and family. Out of the corner of your eyes, you could see Dean smiling too, but the shaking hands within yours were more important right now.

You didn't know how long you stood like that, but at last the shaking stopped, Sam's pounding heart behind you, picked a more steady rhythm and you turned to look at him. He was still staring into the fire, but the expression on his face was calmer. Suddenly he looked down and offered you a small relieved smile. You were sure that your answering smile was huge.

The two of you spent the rest of the evening huddled on the ground on the same spot, not too close to the fire, but not too far either, quietly cheering for them as Dean dropped down on one knee and proposed to Jo, who sank down next to him and breathed her yes.

You softly kissed Sam, celebrating your own little victory along with theirs. When Dean and Jo came around after meeting everyone, Dean hugged both Sam and you a little harder. His hold lingered as he hugged and then surprised you by kissing you on the forehead. His eyes were shinning when he pulled back.

Sam was still quiet when you walked up to your room later that night, relinquishing his hold on you, only when he had to change. You took the bathroom and changed into you new tank top and pajama shorts. By the time you stepped out, Sam was already in bed, staring up at the fan. You slipped in between the covers besides him, snuggling up to him without a second thought.

You were proud of what he had achieved today, and the fact that he had trusted you with it. So much, that it made you want to cry.

"I sleep better with you around, you know," he said, still not taking his eyes off the fan. "That first night when you fell asleep on the sofa next to me, I didn't even realize that it was already morning. I hadn't slept that well in years."

"Well, I am glad to be of service," you muttered through a thick throat. Now was not the time to cry. "I love you, Sam."

He looked at you with shy eyes and did something you'd never have expected. He ducked his head and hid face in the hollow beneath your neck, hiding as much of him as he could manage in your arms. "I love you too, Y/N, more than I can put in words."

You hugged him a little closer, as the tears finally made their way, falling over the bridge of your nose and seeping into his hair while you made efforts to roll your eyes so Sam wouldn't know. Was it possible to love someone so much that it seemed like your heart was about to burst? Because it seemed like yours was about to. You wanted to protect Sam at all costs and it was a ridiculous notion because a man of his stature, both physically and logically did not require protection. He was powerful in his own world, but in your hands he seemed to fall apart, and that scared you. It truly scared you that you held such power over him.

So it took you a while to get your emotions under control, and manage to croak a reply. "So don't… don't put it into words."

But Sam was already asleep, breathing softly into your hair. You brushed it out of his face, and kissed his forehead once. The last thought as you closed your eyes was a promise that as long as you were around, you would never let such insane fear cross his mind, even if it was the last damn thing you did.

A/N 2: THANKS GUYS! Last time I asked for love, and y’all poured it on me. I can’t possibly tell you how thankful I am. It was a very very hard time for me. I am mostly through it, but that support meant the world! PLEASE do consider leaving some feedback this time too :) It adds years to my life! Y’all are the fucking BEST!

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#sam x reader #sam winchester x reader fluff #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester reader insert #sam winchester AU #ttt part 13 #tic tac toe part 13 #Ana writes ttt #Ana writes Sam #anawritesspn #anawrites #I'm going to bed guys cause very tired #please let me wake up to feedback #like pleaassseeeeee #q

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this-sapphic-paradise · 6 years

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Supergirl Season 1-3x05 analysis

I just want to start this off by saying that this analysis is being made by someone who just started studying screenwriting/storytelling, so in no way is this meant to be without flaws, and I welcome everyone to discuss the points being made, giving your own opinions and points of view.

And BIG thank you to @lena-lipbite-luthor for making the gifs for me!

Okay, so let’s start at the beginning, shall we? Let’s take a look at season 1.

During the first season of Supergirl, Kara had 3 close friends: Alex, Winn, and James. Their purpose on the show was to push Kara toward her ultimate goal, which was becoming a hero on her own. That doesn’t mean they were always in agreement; sometimes conflict and friction between characters are better to propel the protagonist, than nice encouraging words.

Kara also had 2 mentors: Cat Grant and J’onn – maybe three if we consider the fact that Alex also helped train her. Cat was important to both Kara and Supergirl, helping her see more clearly what kind of hero she wanted to be; while J’onn helped train Kara physically, teaching her to be a more responsible hero and a better agent.

We also had Lord, Astra, and Non as the season’s villains. Each of them, in their own way, helped shape Kara into a better hero, forcing her to make tough choices and sever some of the links she had with Krypton.

The season wasn’t perfect, it had its holes, like after Kara is healed from Red Kryptonite poisoning, and Alex says they need to work on their issues, but we never see that happening. But all in all, the season (and the protagonist) had a main goal: Kara had to learn to be a hero on her own.

Then comes season 2...

Can anyone tell me what Kara wanted, what was her desire on season two? …besides being a reporter and dating Mon-El, that is…

Because while wanting to be a reporter is not a bad thing on itself, it’s merely Kara Danvers’s desire, something that she got to do, and something that wasn’t the focus of the show.

And wanting to date Mon-El wouldn’t have been bad on its own if in order to get these characters together, the writers didn’t have to “deconstruct” Kara’s character. A quick and simple example of this is how throughout season 1, we were told again and again how important it is for Kara to maintain an equilibrium between Kara Danvers and Supergirl, and yet on season 2, we had that scene of Kara telling Mon-El that being Supergirl and having him was enough for her. When storytellers start to break the internal logic of their own fictional world, that’s when their story starts to fall apart. Robert McKee writes in his book Story:

Consciously and unconsciously, [the audience] wants to know your “laws,” to learn how and why things happen in your specific world. … For once the audience grasps the laws of your reality, it feels violated if you break them and rejects your work as illogical and unconvincing.

That’s why it’s so important for us, the viewers, to understand why characters make the decisions they make, and why it has to make sense within the context and reality of the show’s universe.

Now you must be curious as to why Kara having a bigger desire or goal is so important, and to explain that, I’m going to borrow the words of John Truby:

In the dramatic code, change is fueled by desire. The “story world” doesn’t boil down to “I think, therefore I am” but rather “I want, therefore I am.” Desire in all its facets is what makes the world go around. It is what propels all conscious, living things and gives them direction. A story tracks what a person wants, what he’ll do to get it, and what costs he’ll have to pay along the way.

Once a character has a desire, the story “walks” on two “legs”: acting and learning. A character pursuing a desire takes actions to get what he wants, and he learns new information about better ways to get it. Whenever he learns new information, he makes a decision and changes his course of action.

So you see, Kara must have a desire because that’s what turns her into an active protagonist; that’s what insures an attention-grabbing story line, making the audience go on a journey of (self-)discovery and learning with the protagonist, cheering her on and hoping she’ll achieve her goal. One of the main complaints I’ve seen floating around tumblr is how Kara has been bleak and uninteresting, and I’m afraid that’s the reason why: without a desire, Kara has no drive, becoming a passive character who mostly reacts instead of acting, and in turn the audience has little interest in investing their time and emotion on her.

The only two characters on season 2 who have any sort of true desire (in my opinion) are Alex and Lena.

Now you might say, “but Alex only wanted to be with Maggie! How is that different from Kara and Mon-El??” And to that I reply, the difference is that Maggie and Alex’s relationship is a result of Alex’s true desire: her need to be true to herself/to be comfortable in her own skin.

Alex’s journey through season 2 isn’t the story of how “she got the girl”, Alex’s story arc is her journey to finding happiness (and that she is deserving of that happiness).

Lena’s desire has been crystal clear since her first scene on the show: she wants to make L-Corp a force for good while simultaneously proving that she’s not like the rest of her family. Every single action she’s taken since that very first episode up to episode 05 of season 3 has been to try and make that desire come true, and that’s why Lena has been the most compelling character of the show lately.

To further argue that idea, Lena is the only character on the show whose actions cause consequences to her and others. Every major decision has equally major repercussions: she testified against Lillian, Lillian framed her for a crime she did not commit; she trusted Rhea, the invasion took place; Lena bought CatCo, now Morgan Edge wants to destroy her; Lena found a way to stop the Daxamite, she was accused of poisoning kids even though it wasn’t actually her fault.

Those events take the audience through a roller coaster of emotions with Lena, we experience those consequences with her, and by going through those struggles, Lena grows and changes as person. Watching that change occur, according to John Truby, is what gives the audience the deepest satisfaction, and it doesn’t matter if the change is positive or negative.

Now, the last point I want to make is about the supporting characters that have all but disappeared on season 2 and continue to be missing on season 3.

J’onn, James, and Winn have had a story line here and there, but their characters have come to a complete stop in terms of development. None of them have any goal they wish to achieve, none are of significant value to the season’s overall plot, they’ve stopped pushing Kara to be her best, and if they were to literally disappear from the show tomorrow, they would leave as the exact same people they started season 2 as (unlike Maggie who, even though had very limited time to develop, leaves the show a stronger person than when she first appeared). J’onn, James, and Winn haven’t grown as characters, and the writers are not giving them any chance to.

Starting on season 2, the writers isolated Kara by making her main focus her relationship with Mon-El. Again, having a relationship isn’t the problem (we have Sanvers to illustrate that), but when it’s the only focus of a character whose show is based on her wish to make a difference in the world, it goes back to the issue of making it look illogical and unconvincing.

Besides, by isolating (or limiting) Kara’s interaction with the rest of the characters, the writers have unmistakably dimmed the light of each of them, making each character look shallow and bleak in comparison to who they were on season one and who they had the potential to be.

To quote John Truby once more:

The single biggest mistake writers make when creating characters is that they think of the hero and all other characters as separate individuals. Their hero is alone, in a vacuum, unconnected to others. The result is not only a weak hero but also cardboard opponents and minor characters who are even weaker.

The most important step in creating your hero, as well as all other characters, is to connect and compare each to the others.

And most importantly:

Each time you compare a character to your hero, you force yourself to distinguish the hero in new ways. You start to see the secondary characters as complete human beings, as complex and as valuable as your hero.

This is Writing 101 apparently, guys. If I know this, professional screenwriters must know this as well, and I just can’t understand why they aren’t practicing it.

For the sake of the show we love, we desperately need to writers to keep that last piece of advice in mind.

Season three has me a little optimistic on that front: they have Kara and Alex having more scenes together again, and they are creating a good dynamic between Kara/Lena/Sam, my only concern with that is their intention behind it; I’m afraid they are only bringing the three of them together to cause a bigger and more “devastating” effect when Sam turns into Reign. Shock value for shock value is poor storytelling.

Speaking of poor storytelling and going back to things that must be basic knowledge for professional storytellers, I doubt I was the only one who felt the scene in Kara’s apartment with Lena, Sam, Alex, and Maggie was a little off, right? At first, I was bothered because they were only talking about men, then I thought it was just a weird a scene, but after the episode was done and I was able to take a step back, I realized why the scene was “needed”.

First of all, I believe they wanted to do a bit of fan-service by putting all of them together. But that’s not why the story “needed” the scene, that’s just how they chose to execute it. The writers needed the scene for exposition; they wanted Sam to learn Kara is healing from a “break up”, they wanted the sisters, Maggie, and the audience to know Ruby’s father is not in the picture; they wanted the other characters to learn Alex and Maggie had agreed to not have kids, and they wanted someone to touch on the theme of the episode – which was religion – and that befell on Lena, prompting her to tell that awkward story about the guy who wouldn’t sleep with her.

And here my frustration grows exponentially, because if I can buy a book on Amazon (Story, by Robert McKee), and learn this:

Why then is the scene in the story? The answer is almost certain to be “exposition.” It’s there to convey information about characters, world, or history to the eavesdropping audience. If exposition is a scene’s sole justification, a disciplined writer will trash it and weave its information into the film elsewhere.

Then the CW writers most certainly already know it as well, and there are only two possible reasons why that scene still made into the script: 1) some big-shot executive forced it to exist, or 2) the writers are that lazy/bad.

With all the “mistreated” characters (J’onn, James, Winn, M’gann, etc.), the forgotten story lines (Jeremiah, CADMUS, etc.), and all around bad writing and characterization, I feel like the show greatly underestimates its audience’s intelligence, and it just goes to show that the Supergirl writers, producers, and show-runners have forgotten one of the most important rules of storytelling:

“Story is about RESPECT, not disdain, for the audience.”

I truly hope the writers will find their LOVE for storytelling once more, because I know Supergirl means a lot to a great number of people, myself included, and there’s nothing we would like more than to sit back and enjoy the show again.

#rafa talks #supergirl meta #supergirl #kara danvers #lena luthor #alex danvers

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queen-of-deans-booty · 7 years

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Shadow- Part 2

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,055

Warnings: Typical Supernatural violence, angst, language, minor character death, blood, you know the usual, implied smut

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Please, if you want to be tagged for this series, let me know and I’ll add you! If you want to be tagged for my other fics, I’ll add you! I want to hear what you guys think about this. If you want something requested, send it in!

Feedback is always appreciated

Tags at the bottom

“They say Disneyland is the happiest place on earth. Well, apparently, no one has ever been standing next to you.” Dean said with a wink. You giggled and blushed heavily but said nothing to him.

“Aside from being sexy, what do you do for a living?” Dean tried again. You pushed a stray hair behind your ear and grinned, looking at him.

“It’s not working on me.” You said.

“There must be something wrong with my eyes, I can’t take them off you.” Dean said, raking his eyes down your figure and back up to your eyes.

“Dean! Sam is going to be back any minute and I look like a tomato! Stop it!” You giggled.

“So, they are working on you.” Dean said, glad he was winning. Whatever Dean said to you was a sure way to get your cheeks on fire. You two were at the bar Meredith worked at and with no effort at all, you got the bartender to tell you everything about her. All thanks to Dean.

It wasn’t your fault he was gorgeous. You were the one to take him home after so you didn’t mind too much. But after that, he was trying to pick you up with cheesy pickup lines and every single one was working on you. You tried to deny it but your body gave you away.

You looked over to see Sam enter the bar and you got Dean to look over as well. You downed the shot you had and got up from the table, making your way over to Sam who was rifling through John’s journal.

“Did you get anything? Besides an immense amount of alcohol?” Sam asked without looking up.

“Dude, I’m a professional. I’m offended that you would think that,” Dean scoffed. Sam looked up from the journal and gave Dean a knowing look. “Alright, yeah, we had a few drinks. Did you know that Y/N loves pickup lines?”

“Dean, I do not.” You giggled.

“Yes you do, sweetheart. I remember distinctively you blushing very hard; especially the dirty ones.” He smirked.

“You mind doing a little bit of thinking with your upstairs brain, Dean?” Sam sighed with a roll of his eyes.

“Man, Sam, you really are a buzzkill. We need to get you laid.” You said and looked over at Dean.

“Seriously, you guys want to focus?” Sam said, taking none of your bullshit.

“Look, there’s nothing to find out. I mean, Meredith worked here, she waited tables, and everyone here was her friend. Everybody said she was normal. She didn’t do or say anything weird before she died. What about that symbol? Did you find anything?” Dean asked, looking around the bar.

“Nope, nothing. It wasn’t in Dad’s journal or in any of the usual books. I just have to dig a little deeper, I guess.” Sam sighed to himself.

“Well, there was a first victim, right? Before Meredith?” You asked, trying to sober yourself up. You weren’t overly drunk but you felt a little buzz.

“Right. Yeah, his name was Ben Swardstrom. Last month he was found mutilated in his town house. Same deal, the door was locked; the alarm was on.” Sam said, taking out a newspaper clipping and showing it to you and Dean.

“Is there a connection between the two?” You wondered.

“Not that I can tell; I mean, not yet, at least. Ben was a banker; Meredith was a waitress. They never met or never knew anyone in common. They were practically from different worlds.” Sam said, thinking.

“So, to recap, the only successful intel we’ve scored so far is that Y/N blushes easily.” Dean smirked and you blushed once more but Sam wasn’t paying attention. He was looking at a blonde woman across the bar.

“Sam?” You said, watching as he got up.

“Sam, where are you going?” Dean asked. Sam left the table and you watched him walk over to the blonde woman.

“Maybe he can get laid with her. Do you know her?” You asked Dean, not taking your eyes off Sam. He hugged the girl and you got up, taking John’s journal with you.

“I don’t know her at all.” Dean shrugged, walking over.

“I thought you were going to California.” You heard Sam say as you approached them. You stood next to Dean behind Sam, watching the exchange.

“Oh, I did. I came, I saw, I conquered. Oh, and I met what’s-his-name, something Michael Murray at a bar.” You heard the woman say.

“Who?” Sam asked, confused.

“Oh, it doesn’t matter. Anyway, the whole scene got old, so I’m living here for a while.” She smiled. Dean cleared his throat but neither Sam or the woman paid attention. You grabbed his hand and looked up at him with a smile.

“You’re from Chicago?” Sam asked.

“No, Massachusetts in Andover. Gosh, Sam, what are the odds we’d run into each other?” The woman giggled. You didn’t know her but you didn’t like her. She seemed fake somehow or that she was hiding something but you thought about that of everyone you met.

“Yeah, I know, I thought I’d never see you again.” Sam said with a smile. Was Sam ready to move on from Jessica?

“Well, I’m glad you were wrong,” She said with a smile. Dean cleared his throat again but louder and that seemed to get the woman’s attention. “Dude, cover your mouth.”

“Yeah, um, I’m sorry, Meg. This is my brother, Dean and that’s Y/N.” Sam introduced you two.

“This is Dean?’ She said with a look of surprise.

“So, you’ve heard of me?” Dean looked at her.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve heard of you. It’s nice the way you treat your brother like luggage.” She accused.

“Excuse me?” You said with your eyebrows raised.

“Why don’t you let him do what he wants to do? Stop dragging him over God’s green earth.” She said, still looking at Dean. You were about to say something but she turned to you.

“I’ve heard great thing about you.” Meg smiled. You didn’t know what to say to that.

“Meg, it’s all right.” Sam said, trying to calm her.

“Okay, awkward. I’m going to get a drink now.” Dean said, taking your and dragging you to the bar where there was a male bartender there instead of a woman.

“Who the hell does she think she is?” You said, looking over at Sam and Meg talk.

“I don’t know but I don’t want to know.” Dean ordered himself a beer but you opted for water. You needed to stay sober now.

“I don’t like her.” You said, sipping your water.

“Y/N, you don’t like anybody.” Dean said, chuckling.

“No, I don’t know what it is but I have a weird feeling about her.” You saw Sam give her his phone and she put in her number. You narrowed your eyes at her when she looked at you. She walked away and you tapped on Dean. You thought it would be a good idea to start heading out now because it was getting late.

You and Dean got up and walked over to Sam who lead you out of the bar. You looked back before exiting the bar and saw Meg in the corner of the bar, talking into a bowl. She seemed to have sensed there were eyes on her and looked over at you, locking eyes. Once you blinked, she was gone. You were confused but found Sam and Dean before you overthought it.

“Who the hell was she?” You asked her, catching up to the boys.

“I don’t really know. I only met her once. Meeting up with her again? I don’t know, man, it’s weird.” Sam said, putting his hands in his pockets.

“And what was she saying? I treat you like luggage? What, were you bitching about me to some chick?” Dean said, looking at his brother.

“Look, I’m sorry, Dean. It was when we had that huge fight when I was in that bus stop in Indiana. But that’s not important, just listen,” Sam tried to say.

“Well, is there any truth to what she’s saying? I mean, am I keeping you against your will, Sam?” Dean said, getting defensive.

“No, of course not. Now, would you listen?” he said with a sigh.

“What is it, Sam?” You asked.

“I think there is something strange going on here. Like our kind of strange.” Sam said lowly.

“Why do you say that? Besides the obvious.” You looked at him.

“I met Meg weeks ago, literally on the side of the road. And now, I run into her in some random Chicago bar? I mean, the same bar where a waitress was slaughtered by something supernatural? You don’t think that’s a little weird?” Sam said.

“I don’t know, random coincidence. It happens.” Dean shrugged, losing interest in the conversation.

“Yeah, it happens, but not to us. Look, I could be wrong, I’m just saying that there’s something about this girl that I can’t quite put my finger on.” Sam said, unsure of himself.

“Well, I bet you’d like to. I mean, maybe she’s not a suspect, maybe you’ve got a thing for her, huh? Maybe you’re thinking a little too much with your upstairs brain, huh?” Dean teased, like an older brother should. Sam laughed a bit but he became serious once again.

“Do me a favor. Check and see if there really is a Meg Masters from Andover, Massachusetts. See if you can’t dig anything up on that symbol on Meredith’s floor.” Sam directed.

“What are you going to do?’ You asked him, confused. You had a feeling of what he was going to do.

“I’m going to watch Meg.” He said simply.

“Yeah you are.” Dean laughed.

“I just wanna see what’s what. Better safe than sorry.” Sam defended himself.

“Alright, you little pervert.” Dean teased.

“Dude,” Sam gave the classic bitch face to his brother.

“Okay, we’re leaving. Have fun!” You grabbed Dean’s hand and dragged him to the car where he took you back to the motel you were staying at.

“I don’t understand the fascination with that girl.” You said, walking into the motel room.

“I think it’s good; healthy.” Dean said, taking off his jacket.

“Right.” You said, sitting on the bed. Dean grabbed his brother’s computer and began to get to work but you didn’t want to work. At least, not that kind of work. You and Dean haven’t been alone in a while and you had needs that needed attending.

“Dean?” You asked softly.

“Hmm?” Dean said without looking up from the computer. You crawled over to him and placed your hands on his shoulders, rubbing a bit at the tense muscle. Dean stopped what he was doing and closed his eyes for a second, enjoying the feeling.

“Why don’t we take a little break?” You asked nicely.

“We just started.” Dean said, unconvincingly.

“And?” You leaned forward and kissed his neck softly, still rubbing his shoulders. You moved your hands down lower, just enjoying the feel of his toned muscles underneath his black t-shirt. Moving your hands to his front, you touched his stomach but halted when Dean grabbed both of your hands.

“Y/N…” Dean warned.

“Come on, Dean,” Your lips moved from his neck to his ear. You bit on his lobe and gently tugged on it. “Just a tiny break.” Dean moved so quick, throwing the laptop on the other bed and turning around, pinning you underneath him. He placed his lips on your and kissed you with so much passion, you let a little moan slip out.

His hands gripped your waist as he continued his torture on your mouth. You pulled back to take a breath but he connected to you again and slipped his tongue inside. You moved your hands to around his neck, playing the baby hairs at the base.

The research was long forgotten as you and Dean began stripping yourself of your clothing. You were no virgin and you knew Dean wasn’t one. He pulled away from the kiss, only to attach themselves to your neck. He sucked at the place he knew you went weak. You moaned out softly, arching your body into his at the contact. You were in for a wild ride but you were ready.

Masterlist // Series Rewrite Masterlist // Buy me a Coffee?

Series Rewrite tags:

@helllonearth @amyisabellal @deanwnchstr @caseykitten6 @roxalya19 @quixoticcat @supernaturalblogging @notmoose45 @crowleysminion @mina22

Forever tags:

@that-annoying-band-potato @maddieburcham1 @ginamsmith @mogaruke @whit85-blog @inlovewithbja @spn67-sister @kdfrqqg @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @roxyspearing @supercalifragilistic26 @mishamigose

Dean tags:

@akshi8278 @mega-mrs-dean-winchester @winchesterandpie

Other tags:

@jensen-jarpad @notnaturalanahi @deathtonormalcy56 @27bmm

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