#john winchester’s a+ parenting

[annmariethrush]

There is not a SINGLE thing I love more than Cas offering threatening to kill John Winchester. Cas would smite anything that tried to hurt Dean and he would be BEYOND pissed that someone Dean trusts as much as his father treats him like that. It is my favorite fucking thing. I implore people to make up stupid reasons in your fic for John Winchester and Castiel to be in the same room to make sure that Cas gets to fucking deck him.

The SPN writers were cowards when they made it so that John and Cas weren’t in the same room together during Lebanon because you better fucking believe that would have been the end for John in all timelines.

[military-newsboys]

Dean, gazing lovingly at Cas: He could kill me and I'd thank him. Sam, who'd heard this for the millionth time: I'd thank him too

[perfica]

Shout out to the sarcastic mofos of the Supernatural fandom (and the awesome wranglers at AO3) for creating the ‘John Winchester’s A+ Parenting’ and the ‘Mary Winchester’s A+ Parenting tag.

You people get it :: nods sagely::

[winchester-co]

I just know Sam was covered in scars from hunting when he got to Stanford. What did Jess think of it all, the swathes of marred skin? She knew he had a bad relationship with his Dad - she knew he had a brother he didn’t call. What good conclusion could she possibly come to, when he refuses to talk about his family?

No wonder she didn’t want Sam to go with Dean.

[cas-dyke]

i wonder if dean ever tried to cook sam some version of a thanksgiving dinner in a motel room. cuz of course john wouldn’t be there and, since sam was in school, he would’ve learned what everyone else did and felt left out.

i wonder if it ended up looking like the charlie brown thanksgiving, all toast and popcorn and jelly beans. and i wonder if sam was so damn grateful for it anyways

[lovealwayssay]

Do you think John would have sold his soul for Sam in 2.01 if Sam had been the one dying instead of Dean? Do you think John, knowing everything he knows about the situation with Azazel, who told Dean he’d have to kill Sam if he couldn’t save him, would have sacrificed his life for his youngest son the way he did for Dean? Because I don’t. I think John would have let Sam die.

[omgitskaii]

you guys ever think that dean feels as though everyone who has ever loved him was obligated to? not loving him just because they wanted to? because as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, he’s filled with so much love, so much that it builds up like a dam and drowns him.

because he loves his dad, he hates to admit it. but, for years, john was all he had. but, when it came down to it, he loved dean because that was all he had too. he was his kid, and he looked and acted just like his mom. he needed something to cling to after mary, and dean wasn’t enough just as a son. he needed a soldier. someone to bare the heavy burden with him. he loved him, of course he did… that’s what fathers do, love unconditionally, but all that love was condensed into bittersweet pats on the shoulder, into leaving crumpled up cash on the counter and muddy footprints leading out the door, into steadying an 8 year-olds hands as he shoots tin cans off stumps. it wasn’t teaching dean to ride a bike, it was teaching dean to cut through blood and guts just to get that look of approval because without it, dean wasn’t his son. he had to learn to earn love, and no matter what he did, it was never enough to earn it.

and of course, he loves sammy. he raised him like he was his own kid, but sammy loves dean because he’s his brother. because he has to. because he’s his family, whether he likes it or not. when it came down to it, sam didn’t bother looking for dean for a year, he didn’t try to get dean out of hell. but does he love him? of course, he’s his brother. but dean loves him so much. he loves him like a brother, like a son, like a mother and a father. even when he was 10 and dean let him finish the rest of the lucky charms even though he loved them and he’d saved most of the marshmallows for himself, when he’d swaddle sammy in torn up blankets from the good will and he'd wrap himself in dads old coat and shiver, but it was okay because sammy was warm and asleep. when he’d complained his hair was too long and asked dean to cut it, and he threatened to give sammy a mullet. dean spent hours cutting it while he fussed, until sammy finally beamed and thanked him. even when he was older now, withering and crying out his name as he went through demonic withdrawals, when dean pressed a wet wash cloth to his feverish head in the aftermath, and whispered “it’s okay, sammy. you’re gonna be fine.” but when dean crawled his way through dirt and earthworms, blood and soil under his dull fingernails. his first move after coming back from the dead, is he drove hours to find sammy. his brother. to find him mingling with a chick from the bar, to find out he did nothing to try and find him… even after he gave up his soul to bring him back to life. enduring 30 years of torture, and dishing it all back for another 10.

lisa and ben. he came to their doorstep stricken with grief after losing his brother. they took him as he grieved, wasted a year of their life putting dean back together after losing his brother. dean had meddled in their lives, wiggled his way in like a leech and fed off the love they gave him until the sinking of his teeth felt like a comfort. until the pain felt like fishing trips with ben, backyard barbecues with work friends, date nights with lisa. it made him whole, for awhile, like building a dam against the inevitable crash from the weight of deans guilt and shame and fear that he’d fuck everything up. until the fear turned to reality, and deans hands were covered in the same colour of her lipstick on date night. until dean put on his fathers shoes and barked out orders to a terrified boy that he looked at like his own son, rushing lisa to the hospital where her vanilla perfume went stale and smelt like antiseptic. until dean walked out of that room, because no one could just love him. not without consequences.

and cas… his best friend. he wasn’t sure what to make of him at first, but he slowly wriggled his way into deans skin, and he learned to love him. every awkward bit of him. the small tilt in his head that was far too charming for a celestial being. the softness in his eyes as he looked straight through dean, into his soul, and dean could do nothing about it. not like he wanted to. he felt safe under his eyes, safe under the tingling of the scar on his shoulder whenever cas silently popped on, safe whenever he heard a fluttering of wings. but for cas? it was his job. it was destiny that cas loved him. it was built into the stardust that made up his being. his only purpose was to love and protect dean winchester and he did his job well. but, it was his job. an obligation. it was an order by God that he was built to obey. it was the only thing he knew how to do, everything else was building blocks to something bigger than cas. and even then, even though it was coded, dean still had to earn his love through all the fuck ups he made. he kicked and clawed his way up gravel and dirt and coughed up the insects that took root in his sternum, even though he'd rather they carved a colony in his ribcage as he settled back into that pine box. he felt love even when he didn't want to, in the way cas shoved him against a brick wall, cursing his entire existence, and blood pooled in his mouth as he let out strangled "i need you's" and "i'm sorry's." because he did and he was. because for a few terrifying moments, even the creature bound and devoted to him found it a chore to love him back. and that scared dean.

sometimes, after everything, dean would sit at the dinged up coffee table of his motel room while sam went on another beer run, and he’d stare at the nicks and scratches on it and he’d wonder if cas would still drag him out if it wasn’t fate. if it wasn’t fate, would he still look at dean like he was made of gold? like he was a savior, because he was written to be? would he rebuild him from his atoms, stich back every muscle and fiber, carve back in the scars from when he was 11 and cutting his finger trying to cook for sammy in another strange state and paste back every freckle on his face. would cas do all that all over again, if it wasn’t written? if it wasn’t meant to be?

and he’s gone to hell. he’s spent years there. he’s felt his bones break and bend in ways only a select species could imagine. he’s felt each molar and canine get torn from his mouth, skin fall off the bone, names and ugly sigils carved into his skin for years. years and years. until he’d caved. until he wasn’t the one screaming anymore, until he was so far gone that he’d listen to the same pleads and screams like his favourite mixtape. until he learned a different kind of love. a dirty kind. one that made him swallow down the lump of guilt and shame in his throat and bare his teeth in a bloody, shit eating grin to make up for it.

and he’d think that he’d take that a thousand times over, than live in a world where someone loving him was an order that had to be followed. where caring for him was nothing but a chore. because it was carved into bone marrow and littered with stardust and prophecies. because it was coded into dna and dyed the same red as his own. because it was a matter of necessity to stop him from drinking himself to death, or to do something even stupider.

so instead of thinking, he’d pour another glass of whiskey into his cup and fill himself with it, until the love he felt was nothing but a buzz. until all the love he had ran over, and he’d pour it all onto someone he knew would love him back. if only for a short while. he’d wink at the cute bartender with long black hair and blues eyes. she’d look like someone he can’t quite name, or maybe he didn’t want to. he’d think ‘fuck it,’ blaming it on the drunk fever the next day, and wink at a sturdy looking man with a cowboy hat all alone. and the man would tip his hat with a small smile, and dean would grab another drink to ignore the warmth he felt from it. he’d pour out his thoughts and feelings methodically to the girl because she’d ask, and he’d stare and blink and nod enough times to catch her attention when she spoke, and then he’d smile with no real meaning and she’d smile with one to make up for it. hook, line, and sinker. he’d whisper sweet sentiments into pillows of strangers, because at least then he knew that it wasn’t a matter of life long obligation. it was just a stranger, for just one night, who’d love dean because she’d wanted to. and all the flirting and the drinking and the pretty comments he'd earn it. just for one night.

and that’s okay with dean, no matter how much it really isn’t.

because i think abt it a lot.

[thefirstradiant]

Suptober Day 11: Myth

Our Own Story

“Sam, Sammy, hold on! It’s okay!”

Dean dropped his backpack and sprinted after his little brother. He can’t be running away again.. This would be the second time this month. Dad would kill him.

Sam glanced back at Dean streaking after him and ran even faster around the corner of his elementary school.

Man, dude was only in 3rd grade and he could make Dean lose his breath running after him. The little guy was fast.

“Wait!” Dean yelled out as he rounded the corner of the school and put his hands on his knees to take a breath.

The yell wasn’t necessary. Sammy was right there, tucked in between the tall metal fence and the back door into the gym. He was crouched low to the floor, his head held in his hands and his school sneakers muddied from running.

Dean stopped. He hated seeing Sam like this. It made him furious at the rest of the world. How could they do this to his Sam?

He softened his tone as he walked up to Sam, still breathing heavily. “Hey. Sammy. What’s wrong?”

Kneeling down, Dean pulled Sam’s face up and out of his hands. It was stricken with tears, his eyes puffy and swollen. A fresh bolt of rage shot through Dean and his fist clenched by his side.

“No, Dean.” Sam’s voice was shaky but he was clearly reading Dean’s body language. “It’s okay. No one did anything to me.”

“Okay. Okay. Then what?” Dean was confused, but trying to stay calm for Sam.

“They just. Talk.”

“About?”

Sam looked away over the PE field and sighed. He waited a minute longer before saying anything more.

“I told someone about a monster again.”

“Sam-“

“I know, Dean! I know! But they were being so wrong. I had to!”

Dean patted Sam on the head and ruffled his hair a bit. It never went well when Sam said anything. He loved his headstrong little brother, but it meant he got himself into a lot of arguments. And he never backed down. That caused a lot of problems.

Sam sniffed. “They all started being really mean to me. Jeremiah said it was all just a myth. Then everybody said it. Someone wrote myth on my backpack cubby.”

Sam looked up at Dean like that was the world’s worst offense and started a fresh round of tears.

“It’s real, Dean! I know it is!”

“Hey, hey, Sam. Of course it’s real. You know it. I know it. Dad knows it. Who cares what Jeremiah thinks? You shouldn’t.”

Sam didn’t look any happier.

I would punch all of those stupid kids if I could, Dean thought. How dare they make Sam cry. Dean cast around in his mind for anything that might help Sam. Eventually, he landed on something Bobby had told him a few years ago, when he was in much the same situation himself.

“Hey, you wanna learn something?”

Sam stopped crying, confused, and blinked tears at Dean, but stayed quiet.

“Yeah ok. You know we got the word myth from the Greeks, right?”

Sam tilted his head.

“Yeah. From mythos. Well myth doesn’t really mean something’s fake or not real. You know what it actually means? Take a guess, Sammy.”

“Dean, I don’t know. I thought it means something bad.”

Dean smiled. This seemed to be working.

“No, no, actually myth means a story. A legendary story. One that people love to tell. And there’s one thing every myth usually has.”

“What is it?” Sam was curious now and smiling away his tears.

Dean ruffled his hair again.

“A hero! It means we’re making our own story, Sammy. And we get to be the heroes.”

“Yay! Can I be Spider-Man?” Sam jumped up and started flinging out his wrist like he was shooting webs at the wall.

Dean looked up at his little brother. So small. He tried to believe what he’d just told Sam. They could be the heroes, right? Maybe. Sam seemed to have forgotten he was crying a few seconds ago, anyway.

“Come on, Dean!” Sam grinned at him and came closer.

He whispered like he was sharing an all-important secret. “Don’t worry, you can be Batman.”

Dean laughed and stood up.

“Yeah, alright, Sam. I’m Batman.”

__________________________________

[spn-rewatch-ventzone]

I’m sorry but the fact that 10x09 “The Things We Left Behind,” an episode about the themes of absent fathers, decides is going to spend almost 5 minutes having the boys monologue about how John Winchester was actually a good dad makes me so mad.

It has been established so many times in canon at this point that John was a bad father. But the later seasons cannot stop bending over backwards to try and retroactively redeem this man.

Dean says “He raised me right.” Sir, you actively have a tattoo—willingly received from a demon with help from the king of hell—that makes you viciously murderous. And instead of expressing any emotion, you are prone to angry emotional outbursts. I cannot sum in a 300 page academic journal all the things that are fucked up about you. I’m a Deangirl, but sir, there is no world in which JOHN FUCKING WINCHESTER raised you right.

[fallenangelblade]

“any music made after 1979 sucks ass” is an insane thing to say to your son who was born in 1979

[annmariethrush]

Beyond obsessed with people being blatantly rude to John Winchester cause they like Dean and fucking hate John. That’s so my shit.

[military-newsboys]

Dean, rolling down the car window: What seems to be the problem, officer? Cop: Get the fuck out of my car.

[fellshish]

Unhinged ask time! I always wanted to ride a dinosaur. Which dinosaur is stomping John Winchester to death?

any and all of them because he’ll go time travel to dinosaurs thinking he can catch one before taking care of his kids

[winchester-co]

John seems so uniquely able to torment his sons, but the thing that stands out to me most is telling Dean he might have to kill Sam. Sam, the boy he’s essentially parented his whole life. Dean did it for himself in the end, sure, but he did it first because John asked him to.

Then his Dad changes the parameters: protect him, keep him on the right path, or you’ll have to kill him. Not only has he commanded Dean to consider killing his brother, he’s put the onus on him completely if that’s how it works out.

Hell wasn’t hot enough for you John.

[drfrankensteinvsthequeerborgs]

honestly for me one of the scariest things about Supernatural is the seeming inevitability of the cycle of violence, John knows this is an appalling way to raise a child but he does it anyway, Sam gets away for a few years only to return loving the job, Dean does to Jack the same things John did to him. and a sizable chunk of that is Chuck forcing them to become the worst versions of themselves but it’s terrifying how they can end up being the very thing they swore never to become

[luxurystark-jackson]

if i had a nickel for every abusive father figure to a main character in a show i’ve seen called john, i’d have two nickels. which is not a lot. but it’s weird that it’s happened twice.