#this was my wincest. btw.

[realbeefman]

some people watched vampire diaries because they wanted to fuck the salvatore brothers i watched because i wanted the salvatore brothers to fuck. we are not the same

[collegeboysam]

fake ass "what's dead should stay dead" man i saw you tenderly monologuing to your brother's corpse while the idea of bringing him back crossed your eyes

[hellhoundlair]

absolute pillow of a man

+ extras!

[winchesterhymns]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬

𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐧 “𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞” 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐚𝐦 “𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐮��𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬” 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫

“𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐭, 𝐨𝐡, 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭”

Forbidden Fruit - Hallway Swimmers

[seanwinchester]

hello is this anything

[tsukiyo-7]

Yes, I will stay here for awhile For I need a break A break from the pressures of life And everything that lays in the palms of life's hands

He may have hit his grow spurt but he's still Dean's baby.

[lambmotifz]

it’s a bit funny that a few months ago when i just joined the fandom ppl were getting mad at me for posting top!dean/bottom!sam content

and now i get asks saying “god bless you for the bottom!sam renaissance”

[blacknidstang]

Sam's bite and claw marks on Dean and Dean's impact bruises and choking marks on sam

[obrother1976]

[twochildreninamoteldemo]

Supernatural (2005-2010) / “'A whole new level of freak:' Supernatural, Poe, and the legacy of the incestuous Gothic" by [redacted]

for @wincestwednesdays

[arithekitsune]

THE SIREN IS SAM?????

[youchoseeachother]

14.15

[zmediaoutlet]

wincest + 7?

The second time Sam listened to the voicemail was at a gas station a hundred miles from the airport where they’d emergency-landed, on their way to Chuck to find out—whatever could be found out. Dean was gassing up their stolen car and Sam said he’d go in to get—coffee, food. Dean said sure without looking at him. The station was bright and the TV over the counter was playing footage from Ilchester. “Crazy, huh?” the clerk said, and Sam said that yeah, it was, and could he please get the key for the bathroom.

He sat on the toilet with the hem of his jeans soaking up something horribly wet and he tried not to breathe through his nose and he held his hand tight over his eyes and he listened to it again. Dean’s voice crackling and strange through the speaker, like he was ten thousand miles away instead of on the other side of the concrete wall. Freak, he said, and monster. Certain it was true.

Sam took a piss after all. When he came out with his hands washed and his face dry he filled up two cups with coffee and he grabbed a handful of granola bars and he stood at the counter behind a woman who was getting twenty on pump 3 and a pack of a cigarettes and who was staring frankly shocked up at the TV, like she hadn’t seen the world ending before. “What happened?” she said, bewildered. The clerk shrugged. She looked behind herself, at Sam, and Sam felt like he was bleeding somewhere essential but unreachable, like all his organs were splitting and his skin would go dark purple-black all over and people would know, at last, what he’d—what had—except that the woman didn’t say another thing and just shook her head and left, and the clerk rang Sam out without paying much attention, and he was disgorged into the warmish night like everything was—fine.

Dean was leaning on the side of the awful little car with his arms folded over his chest, looking at the ground. He glanced up when Sam walked closer and he looked at the coffee cups and at Sam’s knees and his eyes skittered over Sam’s face without pausing. It was a long way to Ohio, he said. Sam didn’t bother to nod. He got into the passenger side and he set the coffees in the neat little pop-out beverage holders and he put on his seatbelt and he looked out the windshield, straight-ahead. Dean sat behind the wheel silent for five seconds before he turned over the inadequate engine and they drove east, unwilling to bear the radio.

The third time Sam listens to the voicemail is after he gets the job at Hoyt’s. At a motel close enough to be convenient but not obvious, the clerk tells him they only have king rooms left. “Hope that’s okay,” he says. It is, Sam says.

It isn’t because the bed is too large and the room is too empty and he stands with his back to the door for almost a minute, which he knows only because the old clock on the bedside snaps to 03:47 while he’s staring at nothing. He’s supposed to be at the new job at 5:00 and doesn’t have time for this.

He sets salt at the windows and door and he bleeds himself just enough to set the sigils a demon taught him at the corners of the room where it will matter and then he takes a shower, as hot as he can stand it, wanting to be skinned and boiled clean and have every rancid rotting part of himself picked away from the frame of his bones and then stitched up right. To be other than what he is. But that isn’t on offer, so he washes his hair and shaves and dresses in clothes without bloodstains and laces his sneakers tight and then sits on the end of the bed, sorting out the wallet for ‘Keith’. Thirty-two bucks and a license he made yesterday at a Staples and a very small very stupid keepsake that he should not have, a business card for FBI Agent D. Nugent, with a number Sam knows will ring to places he isn’t welcome, but against all logic he takes his phone out of his pocket, anyway, because—

Why? He holds his phone in both hands and looks at the carpet fibers, the toes of his shoes. Because they were meant to know where the other was. Because without even a vague idea—state, city, motel—some anchor was missing from the world. But, with what Sam has done, that anchoring chain has snapped, and he doesn’t know, now, where Dean is. Could call Bobby, but perhaps Bobby doesn’t know, either, and worse: what if Bobby doesn’t answer, or if he does answer, what if he won’t tell Sam, for any number of reasons that Sam deserves to have stacked around his heart, ready to scorch the whole thing to cinders.

His stupid heart. Aching, still. Not the fierce stinging pain of a gunshot but as solid and unrelenting an agony as from a broken bone, some fundamental error that will take months to heal. Or it won’t. The king bed’s a joke. The last king bed was almost a year ago, when Dean was back from hell and things weren’t yet as awful as they could be and they’d split a bottle of decent bourbon and Dean had told Sam, laughing, that his jokes were terrible, that he was actually the least funny person on this or any planet, and Sam had propped himself over Dean and dragged his thumb over Dean’s grin and said, yeah, sure, and you’re Mel Brooks, and Dean had promptly said it’s good to be the king, and hitched his thigh over Sam’s hip, and it had been—not perfect, but as close maybe as either of them could ever get, as close to heaven as Sam had ever had a hope for, and Sam’s chest throbs like every single rib has separated from the sternum. Some essential protection lost.

He listens to the voicemail. Dean says there’s no going back.

Sam deletes the message. He rubs his fingertips over his lips and scrubs away ghosts. He texts Bobby, Great Plains Motel, Garber OK, and then turns off the phone so he can’t know if there’s a response. He has work to get to. What passes for a life, after that.

[tsukiyo-7]

I was talking yesterday with my bf's cousin and the conversation lead me ONCE AGAIN to the question "Do you know Supernatural?" and he said No, which WEIRD, how are you in your 20s and don't know this shitshow, but Fine ig and then I showed him my most vanilla, normal, absolutely sane drawing of Sam and Dean I've ever made and he went "ARE THEY GAY?" and I lied. You know, like a liar. "Nooo, they're brothers." (well, it wasn't a lie actually but- you get me),,, and he, deadass "Are you sure they're not incestuous?"

DUDE WHO FUCKING ASKS THAT IN A NORMAL CONVERSATION WITH NO FURTHER CONTEXT (this boy understands, somehow he understands)

[lambmotifz]

(previous anon, dont want to be called the sam molestation anon so i'll be the interrobang ⁉️ anon) i rlly agree with u that romantic wincest doesn't really work as sam isn't participating in the relationship the same way dean is. dean is a cage he's in, and he loves his cage because his cage loves him so much why would he want to leave? after everything the cage does for him? why wouldn't he let the cage have him however it needs? it's the least he could do. sorry that doesn't make a ton of sense but do u get me?? it's not like it's a victim/abuser dichotomy but the power dynamic is a INTEGRAL part of the relationship, specifically the imbalance. they neeeeeed that to work

romantic weecest definitely doesn’t work for me, it’s hard to imagine them having some kind of regular romantic relationship as teens because let’s be real here, this dynamic doesn’t have any canon proof. but romantic wincest (let’s say, their post s1 dynamic) does work because mutual pining between them is pretty much canon, at least when it comes to kripke era. i partly agree with you that sam isn’t participating in the relationship the same way dean is because sam doesn’t feel the same obsessive urge to possess that dean feels toward him. sam’s possessiveness & obsession were never on the same level of dean’s

“and he loves his cage because his cage loves him so much why would he want to leave?” and that’s why their dynamic is so deliciously angsty, and that’s also why it doesn’t need to be fixed. like you said, the power dynamic is an integral part of their relationship and they need that to work. sam’s willing submissiveness complements dean’s need to have physical & emotional control over him (which partly comes from the fact that control was taken away from him by his abusive father when dean was younger and some part of him unconsciously seeks a way to try to regain some power/control via his relationship with sam), and that’s why it works and makes their dynamic what it is

[skrambinn]

Happy Winchester Wednesday!