THE MEEK DON'T INHERIT JACK SHIT.

I want to stop losing the people we love. He was made of something unique. The stuff of heroes. JOHN WINCHESTER of the CW'S SUPERNATURAL priv. ind. selective. sideblog. please read all pages before interaction. tracking #pctrem as told by JAYE 20 yrs. she/her. EST time. IND. PRIV. SEL. SIDEBLOG ! 

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for those who don’t know, john is now at my multi @asphalted !!! pls follow me over there !!! this blog will be deleted in a couple days. 

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for those who don’t know, john is now at my multi @asphalted !!! pls follow me over there !!! this blog will be deleted in a couple days. 

[asphclt-a]

for those who don’t know, john is now at my multi @asphalted !!! pls follow me over there !!! this blog will be deleted in a couple days. 

[asphclt-a]

for those who don’t know, john is now at my multi @asphalted !!! pls follow me over there !!! this blog will be deleted in a couple days. 

[asphclt-a]

for those who don’t know, john is now at my multi @asphalted !!! pls follow me over there !!! this blog will be deleted in a couple days. 

[asphclt-a]

for those who don’t know, john is now at my multi @asphalted !!! pls follow me over there !!! this blog will be deleted in a couple days. 

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tobeblamed:

           ‘    what if i am?   ’    he doesn’t want to think like that, but he can’t help not to.  he’s had enough practice with him ; he considers himself capable enough to go out there and be a HERO on his own.  he doesn’t need his father to be with him all the time.     ‘  i want this.  dad, please.  ’    he begs him to reconsider before shutting him out. 

       HE SITS. IT’S NOT NECESSARILY PRACTICE, when they work together. it’s working. a case is a case, and sure, they vary in difficulty when you throw in extra FANGS and claws, but there’s nothing dean’s missing out on that he’d be getting out on his own. maybe some quiet time. he runs his tongue over his teeth, sucking out the taste of stale smoke, mind wandering to the thought of a fresh cigarette. it’s not that he doesn’t think dean can handle it ––––––––– it’s that john can’t. isn’t ready to face up to the way dean’s grown, perhaps. how much does he really want dean to want this ? enough to follow orders, to keep him and his brother alive . . . but not that much. christ. ‘ . . . what is it ? ’ he asks, keeping his voice level. ‘ ‘f you need a new scene, or some FRESH AIR, dean, I get it. I’ll get out of your hair for awhile. ’ it’s no fun living in small rooms with your old man all the time, not at twenty-three. bobby’s probably no more of a party ––––––––– for the first time in a couple years, he thinks: sam would help.

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cursedmartyr:

he almost backs down,   almost,   but they’ve been here before.    they know this dance by heart,   like there are paper cutouts of footprints laid out on the gritty motel carpet   —   like a mail order learn - to - tango lesson.    you could no more convince sam not to be angry at his father than you could make water flow uphill.    backing down feels wrong,   somehow  ;  and how many kinds of fucked up is that ?     ‘     i don’t know,   dad.    do something.    hell,   do  anything  other than this.    why is it  our  job to save these people ?    why shouldn’t i get to go to college just ‘cause there’s some ghost or werewolf or whatever else in some nameless town somewhere,   gunning for people we’ve never even met ?    let someone else deal with it.    or do it yourself,   i don’t care anymore.    i  hate  this.    do you get that ?    i hate  every bit  of this.     ’

     ‘ YEAH, SAM, I THINK YOU’VE MADE YOUR POINT. ’ getting louder, deeper, sharper ––––––––– another decibel will have neighbors coming to tell them outright to shut the fuck up. and then he’ll be even angrier. there’s nothing more embarrassing than having to answer for a kid who won’t behave. he doesn’t know why he’s got to explain this to sam so many times. dean gets it ( but dean was there, dean probably remembers, though john hasn’t worked up the nerve to ask ). sam knows for sure that there are DEMONS out there, but for some reason, he refuses to believe that one is after them. even with all the evidence stacked against them. even with his mother dead. john presses his tongue to his teeth, and tries to tell himself that he’s having this fight so someone else doesn’t have to. it almost makes it feel ALTRUISTIC. he’s not the one who took college away from sam ––––––– the demon did. john’s just an easier scapegoat.  ‘ I am doing something. and look, I’m not even tellin’ you to be the one doing it, this time. I’m doing my job, and all you’re being asked to do is QUIT BITCHING. ’

[deanwnchestcr-archive]

1.16 Shadow

for anonymous

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cursedguilt:

his little brother goes on to live a normal,  apple pie  life and dean is stuck taking care of this old,  stubborn bastard   ––   following dad’s orders like a good son,  because you don’t abandon family.    because  family  is all he’s got in this world.    bitter resentment swells in his chest.    a feeling that too often comes without warning.    and it’s not just toward sam.

but he swallows it down before it has the chance to ripen,  and wraps the cloth around the thick of his index finger to staunch the blood.

‘          nothin’ t’ talk about ?    is that  really  what you think ?          ’

blurted out before he had the chance to stop it.    his throat  thickens  with instant regret,  feeling like he’d just stepped too far out of line,  or crossed a threshold and heard the door slam shut behind him.

     THERE IT IS : THE BACKLASH. HE’D LIKE to say he doesn’t expect it, but it’s been sitting heavy on the kid’s tongue since sam left ––––––– john can see the RANCID color of time in the words as they hit him in the jaw. the resentment, the anger, the bloody grief. he’s had nightmares about losing them both, and nightmares about losing just one, and the latter is always the worst. one little body ( they ain’t so little anymore, though, huh ? ) war-torn, inside out, slashed to bits, and one little body waiting stiffly in the car. in those dreams, he’s always walking back to the car, listening to his boots crunch singularly in the snow, thinking to himself ––––––––– what the fuck am I supposed to say ? 

     he’s never actually reached the car door, before, but here he is. 

     ‘ yeah, that’s REALLY what I think. you go ahead and call your brother ; s’probably what he thinks, too. ’

     although, he shouldn’t be so sure. sam’s done with him –––––––––––– if john knows anything about his son, it’s the steely look of RESOLVE he gets when he’s damn sure he’s in the right. the jaw stuck up like someone owes him something. that’s the only thing sam has left for him, and you know ? if this is the way it’s gonna be, then that’s for the best. he gets it. isn’t happy about it, but he gets it. maybe it’d be different for him with his brother . . . things often are. but it’s not like he’s gonna be the one to find out. ‘ but if you know what’s good for him, you’ll leave him alone. ’ 

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cursedguilt:

blade draws against whetstone,  hilt to tip,  busying his hands   ––   giving himself  something  to do,  because the  emptiness  in this room is almost suffocating.    it’s been two weeks since his brother left for stanford,  and nights like this is when he feels that absence the most.    dad doesn’t talk about it and he doesn’t either,  but it’s there.    it’s always there.

distracted,  angling the blade a little too  sharp  when dad speaks up,  and drops a curse as he reaches for the towel crumpled beside him.

‘          think y’ oughta give sammy a call ?          ’          pauses,  gaze downcast to the cloth.          ‘          see if he got there okay ?          ’

     YOU CAN’T SEND A MAN OVER TWENTY away for a week, and act like it’s summer camp. he couldn’t act like it’d be for fun, no matter how he spun it. but between the two of them, all their weapons have been cleaned and set completely in the past two weeks, and even watching is starting to make him nervous. 

     ‘ he got there okay. ’ sam wouldn’t answer a fucking call, dean, you know that. he’d like to just leave it there ; doesn’t know why he doesn’t.  ‘ ––––––––– there’s nothing to TALK about. I gave him a choice and he made it. ’ 

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ofmurdering:

     ❝ yes sir. ❞ it’s nice to have a vote of confidence, to hear dad say he can do it—- but that doesn’t make it any less nerve wracking. this car is their home.  .  . dad’s baby, he’s fucking terrified of backing into someone or something. what if he scratches the paint, or shreds the breaks? there’s probably a million ways to screw up, but, he doesn’t think dad would let him crash. his hands clasp at the wheel tightly, keeps it absolutely straight as he backs it out of it’s parking spot—- he wants to do good. hell, he needs to do good. after last week.  .  . well, dad might need him to do it next time, so it’s good to practice. even if he isn’t quite old enough yet.

     HE KNOWS DEAN WILL DO THIS right or die trying –––––– he can tell by the furrow of his brow and the scowl on his lips. he should probably remind the kid again that he did, in fact, make it to the hospital last week without bleeding out. that he’s got stitches that ache, but aren’t gonna kill him. instead, he thinks, it’s making good motivation, and might make this process a little quicker. other than that . . . he’s in a pleasant mood. the circumstances are off ( he thought his son would be SIXTEEN when they had this lesson ) he looks over his shoulder, watching the car start to move. ‘ okay, good. stop at the end of the driveway ‘n make sure nobody’s coming. then you start turning. ’ they’re lucky they’re in SOUTH DAKOTA, that bobby’s got sammy effectively distracted so they can focus together. 

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cursedmartyr:

‘     i  put him in danger ?     ’     matching that forward stride,   he counteracts the invasion of his own space by getting in dad’s first.    there’s a whetted edge to his voice   —   he hasn’t broken into a full - on shout,   not yet,   but the clock is ticking.     ‘     do you have any idea how  ass - backwards  that is ?    you  put him in danger,   dad !    you put  us  in danger every day !    you’re the one who dragged us down this road,   not me.    if you’d actually grieved for mom like normal people do,   we could’ve had a  home.    dean’s as good with cars as you are   —   he could get a real job,   one that doesn’t paint a damn  target  on his back just ‘cause you’re hell - bent on this bullshit crusade.    what about what he wants,   huh ?    you ever bother asking him that ?    and what about me ?   i wanna go to school.   i want a  life.    i never wanted  this.     ’

     IT ISN’T ABOUT THE WAY HE GRIEVED, the way he still grieved –––––––––– john doesn’t cart them all around the continent because he’s having any fucking fun. the boys were too young to know what MISSOURI had told him about the thing that had been in their house that night. they were too young to remember what happened to JULIE when john let them out of his sight ( though he wondered from time to time if dean remembered ). he’d tried to settle them in a regular house, tried to keep them in lawrence, even. he’d gone downstairs to watch television, and his boys lost a mother. he’d left them in a friend’s care for one evening, and it got her killed. he doesn’t keep them moving to INCONVENIENCE SAM ––––––– . . . no matter what the little princess wants to think. he’s trying to keep them alive. and goddamn it, seventeen years later, it’s still working. ‘ okay, sam, so what do you want me to do, huh ? you want me to tell the people gettin’ killed right now to go fuck themselves ? if you’re so SMART, you tell me what to do. ’

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     ‘ PACK UP. we’re moving by dawn. ’ he’s been thinking for the last couple days about calling singer or jim, dropping dean off for awhile so he can cool off. so they both can cool off, really. but ultimately, he’s decided against it. while he’s feeling extra VOLATILE, perhaps it’s wise to have the back up. and besides, the sooner dean gets moving again . . .  the better. maybe they’ll get lucky, save some poor sonofabitch, and it’ll help. ‘ east iowa. cows comin’ up dead. ’ // @cursedguilt 

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     ‘ DEAN, I KNOW YOU CAN DO THIS. ’ haggard brow lifts, eyes cast toward the drivers’ side ( the whole car is so strange from this angle ). john just took a CLAW to the gut, last week, and nearly couldn’t drive himself to the hospital. so, sure, that’s why they’re doing this now ––––––– but that doesn’t make it any less true. the kid’s sharp. ‘ put her in reverse. keep your foot on the brake. just back out slowly. you don’t start turnin’ until you’re at the end of the driveway. ’ // @ofmurdering

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cursedmartyr:

‘     the  hell  you will.     ’     a derisive curl of his upper lip,   chin lifted,   shoulders squared.    he hasn’t completely filled out yet  ;  has a couple inches on dad in height while dad has him easily beat in weight and muscle.    not that his father has ever swung on him,   but his back’s collided with a wall on more than one occasion   —   sometimes hard enough to rattle the frame of whatever piece of cheap motel art is hanging up nearby.    sometimes,   perversely,   sam  wishes  he would take a swing.     ‘     you know what,   dad ?    screw you.    maybe i  won’t  be here when you get back.    what’s the point ?    all we do is drive around in that stupid car lookin’ for things to kill,   and  none  of ‘em are the thing that killed mom.    you think she would’ve wanted this for us ?     ’

     A STEP FORWARD, BELLOWING ‘ sam, ’ and then his mouth starts running on rote memory. fragments of every argument they’ve ever had, strung together into new orders –––––– it’s always the same, anyway. he might be proud of the way sam can dig in his heels if it weren’t against HIM every goddamned time, if he used it for something useful. ‘ the point is that we save people. that’s our job. that’s what this FAMILY does. who d’you wanna turn your back on so bad, here ? those people who need help ? or your flesh ‘n blood ?  ‘cause that’s who you’re gettin’ SCREWED. you put me in danger ––––– ’ a jab of a finger behind him, to where he knows dean is watching, owlish. john isn’t stupid, either. he knows where to strike. ‘ ––––––– . . . and you put your brother in danger, because instead of FOCUSING on doing his job, he’s gotta worry about you. ‘

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starters ?