Vigilante (Teen Wolf x Supernatural Crossover) (Part 1)
Pairing: Isaac Lahey x reader, Winchesters x sister!reader
Prompt: When the reader’s old friend calls for help, the Winchesters all rush to Beacon Hills immediately, and you immediately see someone you thought you’d never see again. But what happens when your brothers find out that you are best friends with supernatural beings that you all hunt?
Warnings: fluff, violence, language, a tiny bit of angst
A/N: So I started binge watching Teen Wolf and I am now obsessed, so enjoy!
The Most Disturbing Things in John Winchester’s Journal: A Comprehensive Study.
@jaredsnuggles made a really incredible post about all mentions of the boys in John Winchester’s journal. It’s incredibly helpful for writing reference, and filled with genuinely heartwarming moments and an interesting glimpse into John’s POV.
But as someone who’s pretty infamously critical of John’s parenting skills, what I most noticed was the progressively disturbing way in which the boys were brought up, the responsibilities placed on them, and the way in may have impacted their psyches (performing!Dean, anyone?)
So let’s take a look at some of the most blatant examples of the Winchester’s upbringing that would have had the Child Protective Services knocking on most people’s doorsteps, and how it may have influenced the people they’ve become.
1. Encouraging violent, illegal, and womanizing behavior:
Dean turns fourteen today. He took off to the movies with a girlfriend. I think her name is Katie. Quite the ladykiller, that kid. Like I was at his age. Hell-raising, foul-mouthed, full of piss and vinegar. Silas had it right: he’s like me. If I’m not careful with him, by the time he’s twenty he’ll have left a trail of kids and arrest warrants all over the country.
For some reference, Dean was not “a lady killer” at that age. He was fourteen at the time, and didn’t even have his first kiss until he was at the boy’s home (where John dropped him) at age sixteen. At fourteen, he was still a child, having a presumably very chaste relationship with another child, seeing as it didn’t even involve the rudimentary making out.
Dean turns twenty-one today. I’d buy him a beer if I thought it would be something new. He’s also old enough to buy his own guns now. I tried to raise him right, and looks like I did. He’s a scam artist, a ladies’ man, and an absolutely loyal son. He knows what’s right and doesn’t hesitate to do it. I’m proud of him. Now that he’s hunting on his own I don’t see as much of him, but I know he’s out there. When I call him in on a job, he’s right there every time. I’ve spent the last sixteen years afraid that I was going to screw him up somehow. Maybe now I can forget about that.
This one is just messed up on multiple levels. For one thing, there’s a lot of talk about “performing!Dean” within the fandom, and it’s easy to see where that persona comes from: this, along with his ability to shoot, kill, and protect Sam, is one of the few times John expresses overt pride in Dean. Of course a child/young man struggling to garner his father’s affection and approval would adopt the most suitable persona possible to do so.
It’s my opinion that Dean, at his heart, isn’t a “scam artist” or a “ladies’ man:” he’s a homebody who loves to cook and clean and take care of people, with a lot of traditionally feminine characteristics. He can also be interpreted as having a lot of internalized same-sex attraction.
Would John have accepted that? From what I’ve seen, probably not. Performing!Dean is just the son John wanted.
I took the boys, said good-bye to Missouri, and got the hell out of Lawrence. If I never go back, it’ll be too soon. Not for Dean, though. The first thing he wanted to know was when we would go home. But we don’t have a home anymore, Dean. The sooner you get used to that, the better. We don’t have a home until we find what killed your mother.
The fact that it was hammered into Dean’s brain that they didn’t, and would not, have a home for the foreseeable future would have been a tremendous blow to a child’s psyche – particularly when it was just mentioned that he wasn’t speaking or leaving John or Sam’s side less than a month prior.
I’ll hunt, and the boys will hunt, and we will find whatever killed Mary and we will send it to Hell. And on the way, we will kill every monster and ghoul and ghost and demon and anything else. My boys will not grow up to experience what I have. They will not lose what I have lost.
As always, his intentions are clearly good here, but for some reference, this was 1983. The same year Mary died. Dean was four, Sam was an infant, and he’s already decided that they can and will hunt.
Took Dean shooting. If he’s big enough to try to comfort me, he’s big enough to start learning the tools of the trade. I only let him fire the .22, but he is a deadeye marksman. My drill sergeant would have taken him over me in a second. Times like this, I sure am proud of my boy. I have a feeling it’ll be different with Sammy. Maybe he’s just too young to show it, but I don’t think he’s got the same kind of killer instinct.
There are two disturbing things going on here: Dean is being taught to kill at age six, and John’s reasoning is the fact that because he’s old enough to serve as emotional provider for a fully grown man, he should be able to. And also, there’s something about a six-year-old having a “killer instinct” that just sounds incongruous to me.
This is also one of the few times he expresses genuine pride in Dean.
For his seventh birthday, I took Dean shooting again. He wanted to fire one of the big guns—that’s what he called them. I let him shoot the Browning, but I steadied his hands. Sammy wanted me to help him make Dean a card. It was like a normal day, like we were a normal family with a mom who was off shopping or at work or something. Instead of dead. That illusion never lasts. I can’t afford to let it.
Sammy is five today. Thank God. He almost didn’t make it. I could blame Dean, but it’s my fault. There’s enough blame to go around. I missed the kill, and I left Dean watching Sam, and he couldn’t pull the trigger when he needed to. I haven’t taught him well enough. If he is weak like that again, my boys will die.
The fact that he’s blaming his nine-year-old son for his inability to kill, subconsciously or otherwise, in addition to putting a nine-year-old in a situation where he’d need to kill, is disconcerting to say the least.
Last night, Sammy woke up in the middle of the night telling me he was afraid of the thing in the closet. I went and looked. There was nothing in the closet, but I’ve seen too much not to believe that there could be. So I handed Sammy the .45 and told him the next time he saw the thing in the closet, he knew what to do. I don’t think I’ll win any awards from parenting organizations, but five nights running now Sammy has slept without nightmares. Sometimes a .45 under your pillow is all you need.
Sammy is sixteen years old today. God knows he’s got plenty of torments. Now he’s got a driver’s license, too. Doesn’t make much difference. He’s known how to drive since he was nine.
Mary, you know I would never leave the boys with strangers I couldn’t trust. You know that, right? I never would.
The fact that he is apparently leaving them with strangers, regardless of whether or not they’re “trustworthy,” when at this point they are still toddlers, is by definition neglectful behavior.
4. Paranoia/controlling behavior:
Dean turns five today. I was thinking about where we’re going to be in the fall, because he should start school. Then I realized that I can’t leave him in a school. Anything could happen. Maybe a place that has half-day kindergarten. Maybe that I could do. I know I should. I know he should be able to run around with other kids, who don’t know how to fileld-strip the Browning. Well, Dean doesn’t either, yet. But he’s learning. He’s got a talent for guns. I can see it already. And he’ll need it.
I was a homeschooled kid myself, but the fact that John kept Dean isolated and out of academic environments in order to protect him strikes me as paranoid and controlling, as well as bad for Dean’s psyche.
He’s also been using guns at around five years old. I’m not even against guns, but that’s just messed up.
Dean turns twenty today. He’s in Ohio somewhere, hasn’t called in a couple of days. Tracking a possible poltergeist. He’s supposed to call in every night. Mission discipline is critical.
Sammy is eighteen years old today. Surprised he didn’t take off. We’re not getting along too well. He hunts when we need him to, but he’s never committed himself the way Dean did. Dean’s never known any other way to live, or if he has, he doesn’t act like it. He’s playing the role he was born to play. Sammy’s the younger brother. He doesn’t know what his role is, even though I can tell him until I’m blue in the face and we’re both ready to kill each other. He’s got one more year of school and then I’m drafting him full-time into the family business. I’ve given him more slack than I ever gave Dean, more than I would have ever gotten from my dad. He needed it. Now he’s a grown man, or almost. Time for him to step into what’s expected of him. Dean never even thought about college. We used to joke about it once in a while. But Sammy still believes he can have a normal life, but they’re both more useful to the world as hunters than … what, lawyers? Dentists? Sammy’s convinced himself that smart kids have to go to college. Part of my job is to convince him that college would be a waste of his smarts. And I gotta hand it to him on the brains front: there’s nothing he can’t find on the computer. I still dig around in actual books, libraries, newspapers. It’s all keystrokes and search words for Sammy. He’s done a good job hiding our trail on all the credit cards.
John never leaves an option for Sam or Dean to be anything other than “what’s expected of them.” He never asks them what they want to do with their life, or considers their opinions valid.
This is one of the later entries, so it’s clear John has had a long time to settle himself into his extremist way of thinking, but it’s still disturbing and sad.
Sam graduated. He didn’t go to the ceremony. I think he’s still carrying a grudge that it took him an extra year. What do you want me to do, Sammy? Should we have stayed in Lawrence while whatever killed your mother came back for you? Should we have sat around fat, dumb, and happy even though war had been declared? How long would we have lasted that way?
Sam left. I told him that if he was going, it was permanent. I meant it.
Dean turns twenty-four today. I was twenty-four when I married his mother. Sorry, kid. Every boy has to cut the apron strings sometime, and for you it’s not going to be until we kill off a supernatural entity that seriously needs killing. Then we’ll all be free of your mother’s ghost. We’ll be able to live normal lives. But maybe not. Maybe we’ve all been hunters too long now.
It’s clear that John didn’t consider his children autonomous adults, and expected them to blindly obey his authority. He also considers them complicit in his “war,” even though they were both very small children at the time.
In closing, it’s clear from the other entries that John loves his boys. But as I’ve pointed out before, you can love someone and still be thoroughly toxic, abusive, and bad for them. John’s parenting and projection onto Dean is probably the reason why he’s so uncomfortable with his own femininity (and ~possible~ bisexuality), and why he feels so continuously obligated to prove himself as a Scam Artist and Ladies’ Man™.
Even Sam, heartbreakingly, has finally internalized the message that he can never be anything other than a hunter, when he clearly at one point wanted to do otherwise.
So while John could, and did, have a lot of redeeming qualities, and wound up sacrificing himself for his son’s benefit, I hope this will lay to rest the debate about whether or not he was a good father.
shows up late to the coda party with starbucks. destiel, 950 words
Sam’s been in the single convenient bathroom in the
entire bunker for a ridiculously long time now, so Dean makes his way down to
the locker-room style showers. He’s
about halfway to one of the sinks to splash water in his face when he’s met with
the sight of Cas, sitting fully clothed on one of the little benches in one of
“Cas?” Dean bolts across the room, falling hard to his
knees on the worn tile. “Hey. You okay?”
His first, most immediate assumption is that healing
Ishim had taken more out of Cas than they’d thought. Then he sees the dried blood still on Cas’s
He and Sam had stopped to gas up several times on the
way home, but each time, Cas had refused to get out of the car. Trying to get him to move had been utterly pointless. Dean knew, after a straight week of the
silent treatment, that trying to get Cas to do anything he didn’t want to wasn’t
worth his time.
Cas doesn’t answer.
Dean reaches up to take one of the bloodied hands in both of his
own. It’s shaking. Gently, Dean moves his thumb in a slow circle
around Cas’s knuckles. Some of the tension in Cas’s hands drains away, but his
shoulders stay hunched, his eyes locked on something that Dean can’t see.
Summary – Sam’s
a civilian now, working as a handyman for a local motel and thinking he’s out
of the hunting life forever. When the
owner of the motel asks him to make some repairs on a house he rents out for
some extra money, Sam agrees, not knowing that the job will have him
questioning his new life.
Word Count –
A/N – Takes place
between Seasons 7 and 8, when Sam became a handyman after Dean disappeared –
but canon divergent.
The first spaghetti dinner date soon led to a second date,
and then a third and a fourth. You felt
as though you’d known Sam all your life, and he felt the same way. Just two months after you met, you asked him
to move in with you. He was surprised,
but agreed quickly. He hated living at
the motel, and if he was honest with himself, he knew that you filled the whole
in his heart from when he’d lost Jessica – though Dean’s loss was still a
painful, gaping hole.
ship: wincest (could be read as a general pairing though) rating: teen ao3 link tags: drinking, angst summary: “Dean hated it. He hated being sent on a mission by those pompous sons of bitches that thought they were better than anyone else with their perfectly manicured hands and fancy tools.” word count: 2,052 a/n: so this is kinda seen as a coda to the last episode but it takes place after the episode actually and this kinda came out of some of my own questions that i have when it comes to what’s currently happening in the plot. you’ll see what i’m talking about. plus it’s the first thing i’ve written since my dwbb so yay about that.
Dean was an alcoholic. He would try to deny it whenever Sam would bring it up (which wouldn’t be often because he knew where that conversation always ended) but there was no denying the facts. There was almost never a time that Sam didn’t see his brother without some kind of drink in his hand. However he was getting better. His morning coffee wasn’t spiked with whiskey anymore.
The best and worst quotes from @straightcharactersoftheday
Today i took it upon myself to quote my favorite source of entertainment! The fantastic blog @straightcharactersoftheday I reeeaaallyyyy love that blog and i 10000000% think that straight characters need more representation??? like they are so right????????? straight characters are practically NON-EXISTENT NOW! wowzers! all vry fantastic vry good statements are bolded
Nico doesn’t even need to look over her shoulder to see why Honoka had fallen behind after their latest fight. The corners of her mouth tug downwards as she calls back, “Oi. Put those down.”
The others don’t seem to mind, infuriatingly enough. Even Umi apparently sees some sort of usefulness in Honoka’s hoarding tendencies, though she usually ends up selling half their inventory to every merchant they encounter anyway. So no one except Nico says anything, and Honoka struggles to jog along with an armful of wispy feathers.
“But these could come in handy sometime!” Honoka grins. She sputters when some of the feathers stick to her face.
“For what, making pillows?!”
“Actually,” Umi pipes in. “Quadwing feathers can fetch quite a price in some colonies. They are coveted purely for ornamental purposes, of course, but they would be useful to have on hand should our money run low.”
“Like we’re gonna run low! We have way too much gold! Because you keep selling our things and we barely buy anything!”
“Surplus inventory. Better than discarding the items we don’t need.” Umi simply says, and she trots ahead to catch up with Eli as her cue to leave the conversation, sword bouncing against her hip.
“Oh yeah, we do have an awful lot of money,” Honoka muses out loud. “Like… a million?”
“Nine hundred ninety nine thousand, nine hundred ninety nine,” Nico flatly says.
“Whoa! How big is our wallet, even? Is it even possible to carry that much?”
“How should I know? Is it even possible for you to carry all the junk you collect from the monsters we kill?!”
Honoka looks down at her small rucksack, then around at the rest of their party, as does Nico. Rin only carries her hunting knives. Maki somehow manages to stuff dozens of potions into the pouches attached to her belt. Kotori likes to collect ores and their weight somehow hasn’t slowed her down. Nozomi doesn’t even have a bag or visible pockets; for some reason, no one’s ever questioned where she carries her inventory.
Nico decides she’d really rather not pursue the mystery of that last one.
“Huh, good point,” Honoka finally says after a long pause of silence between them. When Nico looks at her again, the feathers are no longer in her arms, but they’re nowhere on the ground when she looks behind them either. Somehow, Honoka had managed to stuff all of them into her rucksack when Nico wasn’t paying attention.
So if nephilims just need 5 months before birth, I just hope they won’t make Lucifer’s son grow super fast like they did with the Darkness because it’s super dumb and against every logic and super lazy for the writers.
What is reality? When we play a computer game, we know we are in a virtual reality. In reality, we are playing a computer game. In virtual reality, we are killing monsters. When we have a beach vacation, we are in reality. When our vacation is over, we say we are going back to reality. When we dream, we are in another kind of reality. When we spiritually awaken, we discover yet another kind of reality. If we think somebody hates us, but they really love us, then our reality is not really reality. It is not virtual reality, but it is virtually not reality. It’s really hard to know what is reality. It’s all reality.
If we think there is a monster under our bed and we look under our bed and don’t see a monster, then we know for sure that there is not a visible monster under our bed. We know that we thought there was a monster and that thought made us look. The monster was not under the bed, it was in our mind. That was a real monster, but we looked in the wrong place. The monster is probably some monster from a video game, or an idea that somebody hates us. That monster from virtual reality can have a big impact on our reality, because it’s all reality.
Because it’s so hard to know what is reality, we have to constantly question reality and make up new realities that fit what we find. Virtual realities are fun, because we know they are only make believe. Reality can be scary, because we don’t know what to believe. As we keep looking for more real realities, we have to make the best of the reality we know. We can’t become too attached to anything we think, but we still have to act on it. If we think there’s a monster, we have a look. If we think somebody hates us, we have a look. Our reality is not make believe, but made by what we believe, virtually. As we figure out what is real and what is virtually real, we need to be compassionate and kind. At least then, even monsters will love us.