So get this

I have an essay in the most recent issue of the Journal of Fandom Studies. It’s called “Writing with the Winchesters: Metatextual Wincest and the Provisional Practice of Happy Endings.” This baby’s has been a years-long labor of love, smut, and the creative authority of fan writers. Should you choose to read it, I hope you dig it, too.

Here’s the abstract:

Soon after its premiere in 2005, the American television show Supernatural spawned an online fandom dedicated to ‘slashing’ the show’s two protagonists, brothers Sam and Dean Winchester: that is, to writing stories in which the brothers are portrayed as lovers. Over time, the existence of these slash narratives – affectionately dubbed ‘Wincest’ by the show’s fans – has been incorporated into the series’ diagesis. Indeed, in the wake of the programme’s repeated forays into diegetic metatextuality, some Supernatural fan writers have re-incorporated Sam and Dean’s canonized awareness of slash fiction back into Wincest stories themselves – specifically, into the subgenre of metatextual Wincest, stories that recast Sam and Dean as conscious participants in Wincest fan culture. Using Della Pollock’s notion of performative writing as a guide, this essay will explore the distinctive types of encounters between reader, writer, and text that metatextual Wincest stories facilitate. Further, the application of this critical approach to three such narratives – nyoxcity’s ‘Stranger Than Fiction’, Road Rhythm’s ‘This is All Very Meta’, and Fanspired’s ‘Conversations with Head People’ – highlights fan writers’ perception of their own creative authority within the ongoing process of meaning-making that continues to spin around Supernatural. Ultimately, this essay will argue that what makes metatextual Wincest stories distinct is their suggestion that only by working in concert with their fans can Sam and Dean finally write their own version of a happy ending, something ‘the show [itself] eternally defers’ – even if the lasting power of the ever-after they create together remains, in the end, uncertain (Tosenberger 2008, 5.12).

Come Spring

tumblr_l9k4raCh1J1qclbsno1_500My parents live about 4 hours away from me, and to get to them, to the town I grew up in, I tend to take the backroads, that kind wind through a handful of counties that are littered with little towns, places with not much more than a stoplight. Driving back to my house last Thanksgiving, key pieces of what would become this story came to me in chunks: the opening lines, for instance; then passing by a tractor dealership strung up in Christmas lights; then seeing a little cafe tucked in at a railroad crossing.

A long way of saying: sometimes, stories sneak up on you. And then take months and months to make any damn sense.

Objectively, he can see that his brother isn’t beautiful. Not like this, stretched out like some humanoid starfish, his hair in his eyes and his mouth a drawbridge open to sleep. No, Sam looks like a naked frat boy who passed out in his little brother’s bed, legs knotted in Spiderman sheets and feet almost touching the floor. He looks oversized, too big for the everyday world they’ve wound up in; but then, he’s always been too much for Dean.

Continue reading “Come Spring”

Updated Fic Rec List


I’ve updated my fic rec list again, at last! Because nothing says America’s birthday like gay incest porn. I’ve added Destiel and Wincest this time around; fics new to the list are tagged: **

There’s a dearth of new RPS on said list, et c’est triste. If you’ve read any such lately you liked, I’d welcome your recommendations.

Now In Stereo

For winchester-cathedral over on tumblr, who prompted: “How about something where Sam and Dean are cursed (blessed???) to feel what each other feels, so it makes for some really super intense sex?”

Now In Stereo

In retrospect, maybe Dean shouldn’t have kicked that elf in the crotch.

Continue reading “Now In Stereo”

Know When To Fold ‘Em

For outofmymindbebackshortly, by way of thanks.

It wasn’t until they reached the campsite that Dean realized what he’d done.

“You did WHAT?” Sam barked.

Dean held up his hands. “Look, it’s not my fault it took two extra washes to get all that zombie blood out of your sleeping bag, dude. And then the fucker wouldn’t dry. And we were in a hurry, right, and so I kinda–left it there.”

“In the goddamn dryer,” Sam groaned. “In a laundromat. That’s 500 miles from here! Jesus! It’s gonna be fucking freezing tonight! What the hell am I supposed to do?”

Dean scowled. Reached into his pack and yanked out his flask. Chucked it into Sam’s hand.

“Try this,” he huffed.

Sam glared at him, that teenaged pout Dean thought he’d outgrown. “Fine!” he shouted. “Whatever, Dean. What the FUCK ever.”

Dean watched him stomp away. Called:

“Hey, it’ll toughen you up again, sport! Got too soft, all that time away!”

It was a dick thing to say, and Sam thought so, too, because he gave Dean the finger without turning around and disappeared into the trees.

Great. Just freaking fucking great Continue reading “Know When To Fold ‘Em”

The Eye Burns Brighter

Over on teh tumblr, outofmymindbebackshortly requested “Sam/Castiel Space Pirates.”

Space pirates, ya’ll. Sassy fucking space pirates. 

I hope it goes without saying, but this was a goddamn blast to write.

The Eye Burns Brighter

When things went to shit, Cas was the first to notice.

He was burrowed into Sam’s lap, knees tucked into hips, his hand tangled in dark hair, his mouth open and willing and wide. Sam’s nails were in the small of his back, his growl curled around Cas’ tongue, the pilot’s seat tipped so far back that the floor seemed closer than the stars.

He had Sam’s cock in his fist, that lovely living thing shuddering in his palm, right on the edge of breaking. Sam was kicking his hips up, digging his mouth into Cas’ neck and moaning, the sound slinking under Cas’ collar and painting his chest with want.

Yes. They were busy.

But Cas could feel the shift in the plates, hear the whine of the engine go a little bit dark. It broke through the haze that Sam always twisted around him, the one that made his choices, however foolish, never quite seem like mistakes.

He cocked his head, tugged his mouth away, and sat up. Listening.

Sam chased him, swung his weight up so fast the chair almost snapped from its moorings. That sweet howl in his throat:

“Cas. Baby. Don’t leave me–”

“Shhh,” Cas whispered. “Don’t you hear it?” Continue reading “The Eye Burns Brighter”