Dean's Not Fine

Connecting the Dots: Vancouver, Part 1 A Supernatural convention travelogue by Axy @Aaaahhhxy Sometimes, it feels like life is a game of connect the dots. You know, the ones we’re given as children, that, supposedly, once you’ve connected it all, give you a bigger picture you wouldn’t initially suspect. Going to Vancouver, attending Vancon this year was, for me, connecting the last dot. I now see the bigger picture. And it’s a stunning one. *** I was 8 when the first dot presented itself to me. Twenty-five years ago. As I was a little different than most of the other 8-year-old kids you could leave in front of some random cartoon for hours -- besides Scooby & the gang -- my dad decided to upgrade my viewing habits and attempt to show me something more adult, darker and deeper than I was supposed to be receptive of. My dad introduced me to The X-Files. Needless to say, it freaked me out… And ignited a fire in my soul that my dad was desperate to create. Being...

Wondering where we'll fit Michael!Dean... so far, I've got him at the very top.

To Jared and... his Jaredness A birthday message from Axy @Aaaahhhxy Jared Padalecki entered my life in late August 2015. Back then, I was a random “Arrow” fan who laughed her socks off on one of those Instagram pictures of him and Stephen Amell. They were messing around. Jared seemed like he was a nice guy. I hit the follow bar and never regretted it. No, I wasn't acquainted with “Supernatural.” Which was strange, all things considered. I was barely old enough to understand it when “X-Files” first changed the television landscape, but I fell for it nonetheless. My dad and I would spend entire nights voraciously devouring entire seasons, back when they were released in VHS form and we had to buy the imported versions from stores that have ceased to exist a long time ago. Now that I think about it… Papa and I probably invented binge-watching in the early ’90s. The television format would become a best friend of mine for the troubling years to come, providing me with a...

Fading Away, Chapter 2 A Supernatural story by Axy @Aaaahhhxy 48 hours earlier Jimmy was wrong. This didn’t feel like being chained to a comet. If it were, it would be much, much easier. Instead, it probably felt like being at the center of the molecular equivalent of a permanent big bang. The pain alone was on a level even he, Dean Winchester, the man who had died over a hundred times, never knew before. Every nerve, every joint, every inch of flesh was on fire all the time. Michael wasn’t benevolent with his newly found vessel, and nothing was spared to the hunter. He felt everything, and yet, wasn’t in control of anything, and it was driving him insane. He was locked in a dark corner of his own mind, and had known little to no relief from the moment that son of a bitch of a thief broke their deal. But what other choice had he had? Even if he suffered for eternity, it was worth it. Knowing that they’d ended that bastard, that he’d relieved his brother of the...

Elvis A Supernatural story by Lara @Larrs9325 “Wait. Go back.” Sam and Dean have already been asleep for hours. Being so wired from the day’s hunt, you knew you weren’t going to get even the recommended four hours tonight. He doesn’t sleep at all. So, you two decided to keep each other company. After five minutes of skipping through radio stations, you, apparently, found a winner. Per his request, your thumb and index finger slowly turn the dial backwards. The soft melody continues playing. ♫ ...only fools rush in… ♫ You look to him with mild surprise. “What?” His crystal-blue eyes carry the question just as much as his rose-petal lips. ♫ ...would it be a sin… ♫ You slide the old pocket radio down the length of the bed so it sits beside him. Leaning back against your headboard, you answer, “Elvis?” “Should I know who that is?” You give him a smile to let him know you’re messing with him. “Maybe. Probably.” You point to the radio. “I guess you know now.” ...

Fading Away, Chapter 1 A Supernatural story by Axy @Aaaahhhxy Texts in the middle of the night are never good omens. Sam’s phone vibrated twice on the nightstand before it woke him up. He grabbed it without being really aware of his movements. A reflex. As if he permanently lived on a strange, unsafe edge, waiting for Dean to call him at any time of the day or night. It led to a few disappointments, though, when all Sam had received over the past few days were, at best, possible sightings of his brother coming in from hunters around the country, and at worst, yet another one of those weird, random messages from cable companies asking whether he wanted to subscribe to HBO. If only they knew that the bunker’s outdated system was, actually, innovative enough to allow them to get about every channel on the planet free of charge… This time, though, the text sent at 3:04 left little to no doubt about its nature. “Coordinates,” Sam whispered to himself. His mind drifted aw...