One scene from Good Intentions with captions for the Wincest-impaired.
So how did Zachariah become the one angel in every universe whose job it is to write the Winchesters into fan fic AUs? I NEED TO KNOW.
Tag: 13×14
13.14 – Good Intentions
N°323 in the series “wild spam of random caps” – SN: 13×14
The “my little random moments of pleasure” series –
Not letting them fight each epi is such a waste – 13×14
N°319 in the series “wild spam of random caps” – SN: 13×14
If I was dying on my knees
You would be the one to rescue me
And if you were drowned at sea
I’d give you my lungs so you could breathe
I’ve got you brother – SN: 13×14
Kodaline/Brother
“Donatello, whatever it is you’re feeling,
whatever it is you’re going through, you can fight this.” – SN: 13×14
Agent of Death (13.14 coda)
Some character introspection because from someone who normally puts so much thought into his words, Sam’s “No killing!” was horribly and uncharacteristically raw.
“No killing!”
It comes out like it has been perched there on the tip of his tongue, waiting. It comes out before he can soften it, modulate his voice, make it more palatable. It comes out raw and too-desperate, because he’s tired.
All he can think about is Rowena, a huntress and murderer herself, shaking at the memory of her own death. Eileen, falling in some dark, imagined place because he wasn’t there to see her go. Dad and Mom and Bobby. Jess. Kelly Kline, cold on a bed where there only should have been new life. Almost every soul he’s ever touched and been touched by. His life, by now, seems like a litany of farewells.
Hunting, just like war, requires a single-minded belief in the rightness of his cause that Sam has never had.
Before he was a high school freshman, he knew that sometimes the things they hunted deserved to live and sometimes the people doing the hunting deserved to die.
Sometimes humans are the only monsters in the room.
No killing, he says, and the words come out sour and with cutting edges, because killing is everything they do, and the blood on his hands has stratified by now, layer upon layer of deaths telling the story of Sam Winchester’s life.
The words sound impulsive and childish, even to him, but goddamnit he’s tired of being the one who pulls the trigger. He’s tired of seeing pain and causing pain and being pain. His last thoughts when he sleeps and his first when he wakes are of Lucifer walking free, of the creative torments he visited on Sam.
The thought of causing even a measure of the pain he experienced at Lucifer’s hands makes him feel dirty and wrong and unreal.
“No killing,” Sam Winchester says, and he knows even as the words leave his mouth that it’s impossible.
He’ll be the agent of death until he meets his own.
It’s the family business, after all.
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appreciation post for jack’s messy hair
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Backup bloh 