No sign of politician slash anywhere, tsk.

Now she's going to write one just to spite you.

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Now she's going to write one just to spite you.

Depending on the politicians, I might read it. If Newt Gingrich shows up, she's on her own.

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Depending on the politicians, I might read it. If Newt Gingrich shows up, she's on her own.

One day, I will finish that Gingrich/Clinton. I will.

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I've read things here that I never expected to read.

Well, the thing is, I thought all my squick/unexpected barriers had been thoroughly thrashed by popslash. I mean, believe me when I say that *anything* that could possibly have been written has been written in popslash. We're talking more than one story where the main characters you know and love are serial killers, for example. Or cult leaders. Or samurais, or princes of nation-states, or love slaves, or love slave buys, etc etc. Wingfic, incestfic, genderswap, randomly becoming an animal, kinkfic of every shape, style and form, AUs of every type from publishing house to buskers to Tolkein characters--everything cracked out, I'm pretty sure I've read it in popslash. So the fact that I still *have* any squick barriers is what astonishes me. I mean, even being kind of not into the genderswap for SPN (well, except for both Dean and Sam as girls, as Plei notes) I'll still read it, because it's often very good fic. I just didn't expect to be slightly uncomfortable about it, which is strange, because I was never weird (or okay, only a little) about Simon/River.

However, in Heroes fandom recently I hit a brick wall of squick, which was again astonishing because I didn't think there were any of those left for me, and because if there were I didn't expect to read them. But as it turns out, Nathan/Claire fic is that squick barrier. Even by writers I like.

Oh, and Buffy/Dawn was one too. Thank christ no one writes that anymore.

I kind of feel like a war vet of squicktastic fic.

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Hmmm, I just realized, one could theoretically justify Sam wingfic and not have things be all hugs and puppies.

Oh, and the one where Sam becomes a puppy.

Or the one where Sam raises a hellhound puppy.

that sort of switch/AU (I tend to stick to ones where one or both has always been a girl) provides me with enough of a remove from my interpretation of canon that I can be sold.

Yeah, I prefer different ways to get there but the Sam/Dean *has* to be enough of an AU or I just frown, tilt my head and don't get it. But AU it up for me? And I'll read it.

I kind of feel like a war vet of squicktastic fic.

Yep. I never understood that until this fandom, but now I get it.

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Like Plei, my Sam/Dean and John/Dean squick is much much stronger than just about any other fandom squick I've hit, including Simon/River, has been. Buffy/Giles came close, but it's not quite the same.

I haven't read any of the genderswap Wincest, so I don't know if it would hit me the same way. (I should maybe investigate that, if you have any recs, Plei or SA)

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John/Dean squick

ACK!

This is the one that just ... I can't. I just can't.

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This is the one that just ... I can't. I just can't.

I say you go clean your brain with that Dean/Impala. Which I still need to read. To see if it goes in that section of the recs page. ::nods::

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Which I still need to read.

You do, because I want to know what you think of it.

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Quiet days are good days. Another chunck of Sam and Dean at the Fabulous Ladies etc.

Dean looked desperately around the room. He could now see the posters on the wall of half-naked twinks and leering, bare-chested gym rats. Bob the Cowpoke had just unbuckled his chaps and let them hit the floor to the screams of the dirty old women.

Against a far wall was sanctuary: the bar. Behind the bar, doing her best not to laugh outright, was a normal-looking girl leaning against the bank of bottles and glassware. Dean scurried over, averting his eyes from the stage.

The girl did snicker a little as he plopped onto a stool. "I keep thinking we should put a sign out saying just what kind of dancers we have, but it's just too much fun watching guys like you come in here and freak." Her name tag said Amy.

Dean hunched his shoulders and gave a sneer. "I'm glad I could make your evening. Beer. Please."

She put a cold bottle on the counter. "On the house. You deserve it for the shock. Anything for your buddy on the floor over there?"

"He can crawl over here and get his own."

The whooping suddenly got louder. Dean put a hand up to block any possible view of the stage from his peripheral vision. Amy did laugh at that.

Sam sat down on the stool next to Dean, his back to the bar. He was still grinning.

Dean stared at him. "Dude, stop watching!"

Sam gave him one of those looks as he turned to Amy. "Can I have a beer?"

"Sure thing." She pulled out a bottle, popped the top, and placed it in front of him. She headed down the bar and Sam turned around again.

Dean leaned over. "Honestly, why are you watching this?"

Sam took a drink. "Because we're here to investigate some weird murders?"

"Oh. Yeah." Slowly he turned to face the horde of frenzied women. He managed to keep his eyes away from the stage. "So our killer's been going after the audience."

"And a couple of dancers--unless guys come to watch." He grinned at Dean. "Like us."

"Bitch." His discomfort morphed to the famliar hunter's wary knot. "Not just us."

"Huh?"

He turned around for his bottle of beer. "Far side of the room, darkest corner, there's a guy at a table. He's not here for the skin." He swiveled back around.

The guy in the far corner had his back to the wall and his feet up on the other chair at his table. A bottle of whiskey was on the table, and a glass occupied the same hand as a smoking cigarette. He wore a long black coat, his hair was pale, and he watched the mad action in the room with an empty face. His eyes tracked the room, and they slid to the Winchesters at the bar as he raised the glass to his mouth.

Sam shivered. "What?" Dean asked from behind his beer bottle.

"I think I saw yellow in his eyes."

"Christ. Yellow Eyes himself is in this?"

Sam turned his back to the room and leaned on the bar. "I didn't see anything about this, though. I normally see when he's up to something."

"So the rabbit ears in your head are off." Dean smirked. "Rabbit ears."

Sam glared at him from the corner of his eye. "I'd better not wake up some morning wearing rabbit ears."

Dean snickered and drained his beer.

Bob the Cowpoke pranced back behind the curtains, trailing his cast off chaps and whatnot behind him. A couple of waiters appeared from the shadows to circulate among the tables, then to the bar with orders. The waiters wore tight jeans and tight t-shirts that were obviously meant to show off the goods. One of the waiters was a short, wiry red-head with a quick grin and a quicker twitch to his hips as he sashayed from bar to table. The leering soccer moms made quite a fuss over him. His name was apparently Jimmy, and he didn't seem to mind too much when his ass got pinched.

The other waiter didn't get quite that much obvious fuss, though it didn't stop the women from following him with their eyes and whispering and giggling. He was tall and dark and (continued...)

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