I finally had the privilege of arting for @deancaspinefest! I loved drawing for @fallenangelandpie's canon-divergent fic Djinn and Tonic, which is full of post-15x18 Dean pining (mmm yes my favorite kind of pain).
It also deploys one of my favorite devices from the show, djinn-induced dream worlds, as a pathway from self-destruction to self-acceptance. And also kissing.
I loved getting to play with visual distortions, divergent styles, and surreal image elements, and it was an even bigger bonus to include a nonbinary hunter character. I hope y'all enjoy the story as much as I did!
In a wanton display of extra-ness I have recreated the Rowena concert poster which plays a minor, but I would argue pivotal, cockblocking role in my recent Rock Star!Dean Destiel AU, Everybody's Got A Hungry Heart (original post with the fic)
Can't you almost smell the musky branded incense at the merch table? Can't you almost visualize the extremely tiny pants worn by her cadre of backup dancers, all of whom appear to be dating each other? Imagine the mid-song costume changes. The special insurance necessary to cover all the fog machines. The sparkly purple grand piano with a velvet chaise longue installed on top which she likes to heavily imply was a gift from Prince. 2015 was a hell of a year.
And, as an extra-extra bonus, here is a photorealistic recreation of Dean's response to seeing it
You may continue about your business now, thank you
Everybody's Got A Hungry Heart
Dean Winchester/Castiel
Rated T (mostly for swears)
Wordcount: 18k, complete
for @pimentogirl
Read on Ao3
Summary: A second-generation rock star struggling with creative burnout, Dean is willing to try just about anything to get his mojo back. Even hiring a weirdo mysterious journeyman music producer recommended by his brother's witchy folk idol ex.
Tags: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Alternate Universe - Show business, Rock Star Dean Winchester, Music Producer Castiel, Fluff and Mild Angst, Slow Burn, Explicit Shostakovich Content, Dean Winchester POV.
Excerpt:
Dean is jumpy as shit. Why one (possibly Icelandic?) beep-boop specialist has him on edge while Mick Jagger’s own vocal coach barely got his heart rate over 55bpm is a goddamn mystery. Maybe it’s the harp solos from that sample track; maybe Dean’s nervous that this is his last shot, and if this guy can’t save Dean from filling out the back end of his contract with “Best Of” and “Live In Concert” compilations, he might as well walk into the fucking sea.
Castiel saves Dean’s life at dinner, which is pizza and a very grudging house salad from the most normal place Dean can slip past Sam.
The real pisser is that it’s not even a good story, as near-death experiences go. A stray bullet doesn’t bust through a window and nick Dean in the carotid; Castiel does not put pressure on the wound and yell “stay with me, dammit” until paramedics arrive. No falling marble, heart attacks, accidental ODs, or jumping-into-the-pool-from-the-roof. Sam just says something mildly funny and Dean tries to breathe some hot Italian sausage (shut the fuck up) and chokes.
Crowley’s not there – he’s vaping out on the side lawn and probably catching bugs in his mouth to replace the human blood he usually drinks. Dad’s dead; Mom is extra dead. Bobby’s home in South Dakota probably asleep in front of the TV. Sam’s…not actually great when it comes to split-second emergencies. He always gets that spinny hourglass kind of look on his face, and in the long, slow milliseconds where Dean’s dying of meat, he thinks it’s gonna be real fucking funny when he and Eileen have a kid and she goes into labor, he’s probably gonna slam the car door on his own hand.
Then Castiel steps behind him and balls his fists under Dean’s ribcage and does the Heimlich thing like that’s why they hired him. The meat magically caroms out of Dean’s airway and across the table, and then Dean is just generally disgusting and pathetic for a few minutes while Sam wigs out and Crowley takes a photo.
Afterwards, Dean offers Castiel a drink, which he turns down in favor of another glass of tap water, as if he has not just rescued Dean from being Us Weekly’s “Gone Too Soon” cover of the month.
“I hope I didn’t bruise your ribs,” Castiel says. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done it, and never on anybody tall.” He’s around Dean’s height, maybe a few years older, a guy on the “interesting” end of the handsome spectrum (Lisa once said Dean was made in a “handsomeness lab,” which feels 1% worse every time he remembers it). If Castiel hadn’t just contracted every muscle in his body against Dean’s back and ass, Dean wouldn’t think the guy was particularly built – it doesn’t help that he’s dressed like a Mennonite accountant who’s recently lost weight and hasn’t had time to drop by the Men’s Wearhouse to size down. He’s taken off the jacket, at least, but he’s still wearing an actual fucking necktie in a room full of denim.
“You save a lot of people from choking?” Dean wheezes. It would be real cool if this has blown his voice.
“You’re my third. I also rescued a boy from drowning when I was sixteen.” Castiel has his hands in his pockets, casually admiring the wild pink sunset shaking itself out over the pool. “Residential pools are incredibly dangerous,” he says, like it’s a compliment.
There’s not a lot more after that. Castiel is still on Iceland time and it’s hard to get it up for chitchat or shop talk after you’ve all felt the cold touch of death over cheesy breadsticks. Sam offers to show Castiel out to the casita – not that there aren’t plenty of guest rooms in the main house, or that he’s being exiled or anything, but he won’t have to worry about running into the staff there, or a pantless Dean before coffee.
Castiel is shouldering up one of his exactly two modest bags when Dean catches him. “Hey, I listened to the tracks you did for Rowena. Really good stuff.”
Castiel smiles, a small, tired, but authentic one. No teeth, no golly shucks, no blush. “Thank you,” he says. “She’s a unique talent. Working with her was quite an experience.” He lifts his hand in a little “see you in the morning” gesture and Dean returns it, jamming his spare hand in his back pocket like he’s got leather ranch gloves back there and now he’s gonna go out and bring the cows in before nightfall.
Dean can smell Crowley hovering camphorously behind him. “That was a sick burn, right?” he asks, looking back. “Super polite mode?”
“The sickest,” Crowley agrees, cooly. Then he scuttles up the staircase for the night, whistling Eddie Cochran’s opening riff on Three Steps to Heaven. Or maybe it’s Queen Bitch.
Read the full story on AO3
Happy November 5th! Happy Despair/The Truth Day! Happy one year anniversary to the episode that shattered my brain into a bunch of tiny pieces. I cannot BELIEVE it’s been a year already. Everyone have fun today!
This comic is included in my big 2021 comics collection, linked below.
Buy the comic now on Gumroad | Support projects like this on Patreon
It wasn’t even a particularly creepy skeleton; it was in kind of a “just chillin’” pose on the floor. One ankle was still locked up in a heavy iron cuff, at the end of a short chain leading back to the wall. Snoresville, as dead stuff goes; Dean’s seen worse at Disneyland.
It was the skeleton’s comment about Dean’s ass that really livened things up.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
AAAAAAAAH baby’s first podfic! I have been blessed by Dusty! 😭
This one-shot crackfic was written on a dare and so it includes some of the most nutball Dean POV lines I’ve ever had the poor taste to write down, and Dusty absolutely slays em all!
Where did the Chrysler Building comparison come from anyway? Does Cas inherently know all measurments on Earth and beyond or did he stand next to it once to see who’ s taller
Now I’m imagining this badass many-faced creature with giant inhuman limbs next to a sky-skraper, biting on his tongue, while using his very strangely proportioned hand to measure who’s taller
Can someone with drawing skills please please please give us this image!
Okay but what about those goofy transition lenses. What if Jimmy wore those ultimate in Dorky Dad Glasses and Castiel just never got around to taking them off.
When you're goofin' around on the ole Discord about how Chuck kept writing Supernatural novels and leaking them online after he went AWOL, and then it turns into what the fan ebooks/printed/bound volumes would look like, and then you just have to commit a Crime
Props to @kweh-not-wark and @jeanne-de-valois for the stock photo suggestion and the bullying, respectively
ETA: the "Explicit Destiel" version cover
There's a lot of controversy in the fandom about which version is the "real" one. What REALLY happened in Chapter 7??? If the Destiel version is fake, then why does the page count suddenly jump five pages in the non-Destiel version??
Becky's paying off her student loans early either way
CAS (mournfully gazing at Dean): this can never be
DEAN: dude we've been married for ten years
CAS: an impossible love
DEAN: we're literally eating a slice of frozen decade-old cake from the wedding
CAS: forever alone
DEAN: I'm sitting in your lap
Meanwhile, @jeanne-de-valois:
CAS: Dean, I would like to have sex with you, but for plot reasons, I have to be in my true angel form. Turn around
DEAN: oh wow uh okay
CAS: B̶̡̧̧́E̵̬͕̩͎͈̐ͅH̷͎̖͠Ö̴͍̪̗̖̅̈́̀̂͐L̵̨͕̖̘̈́̊͂̀̄̔D̴̡̈̈̽ – I mean you can look now
*it totally just looks like normal!Castiel but his shirt’s off so his dreamy anime wingies can flap free*
DEAN: haha WHEW hot damn dude, you really had me worried for a sec there
CAS: what do u mean
DEAN: idk that there would be like wheels of unquenchable fire and four different heads and like a thousand eyeballs and shit, haha yikes am I right
CAS (carefully zipping his fly back up): y...yes, haha, imagine
YES this is Lazarus-Rising-based illuminated-medieval-manuscript-themed fanart of cas getting his orders to grip dean tight and raise him from perdition NO i dont know why….enjoy
OP I’m very concerned that either my subconscious mind somehow commissioned you through the collective Jungian dream wavelengths, or this is the first part of a very cleverly constructed Me Trap
Pallas Perilous @pallasperilous - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
