Jensen Ackles As Russell Shaw Tracker (2024) | 1.12 – “Off The Books”

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having an early seasons nostalgia (I've literally watched them a month ago) meltdown. man I loved seasons 4/5 but I miss when spn pretty much only depended on those two brothers. it still does and I love some of the newer characters but there was something SO magical about that s1-3 vibe that I can't quite describe. it's as spn as spn has ever felt to me. it's not perfect and it's p much what it says on the tin, just two dudes saving people and hunting things. no apocalypse to prevent or shit like dat. it's just Sam and Dean's microcosm. there are no other mcs aside from john and bobby,but they're not nearly as important as Sam and Dean. I don't even know where I'm getting at but it was just so enthralling to see these two dudes who haven't seen each other in a long ass time immediately deciding to hit the road together and even though their relationship is far from perfect and they're shit at communicating and there are so much unresolved conflicts it's nothing compared to the almost built-in love they have for each other. they're ready to risk it all immediately. idk I haven't slept much today but I had to dump this somewhere.

kids these days don't understand the atmosphere of eric kripke seasons, he was an absolute master of his craft/vision and anyone who actively convinces anyone to skip 1-3 is not in one's right mind. eric completely understood the backwoods old school americana, the influence of 70s rock and og blues incorporated into the essence of the show. the original soundtrack of supernatural wasn't just about sounding good but woven into the narrative of the story (blue oyster cult/ACDC/led zepp/styx/robert johnson/the chamber brothers) music that held the entire spirit of time & culture of that time. (I can't tell you how much watching supernatural at 12 shaped my music taste today) the smoky roadhouses/bars, mullets, scrapyards and classic americana cars, oh he just got it.

kripke fabricated the toxic hyper-co-dependent brothers we know and love, he managed to write the most obnoxious, gung ho, red blooded masculine guy also be the obedient, subdued, desperate, needy brother/son/man who's worth is only attached in those he can gratify. the tender and gentle, sorrowful, conflicted and misfit little (big) brother who endeavoured every path to avoid his fate yet succumbed to it anyways. two brothers so layered in their attachment with one another that if you witnessed it before you you'd be down right scared

I hold onto this series so much because of how 1-5 made me feel, the nostalgia he captured.

1.19 - Provenance

Well, it wouldn't really be a secret if I told you, would it?

Supernatural S1E05 Bloody Mary

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Jared | bts Jon Magazine [linda_russell_style]

Mama void with all of her voidlings 🖤🐈

realmarksheppard: You’re not going to believe this! Was on my way to an appointment yesterday when I collapsed in my kitchen. Six massive heart attacks later, and being brought back from dead 4 times I apparently had a 100% blockage in my LAD. The Widowmaker. If not for my wife, the @losangelesfiredepartment at mullholland and the incredible staff @providencecalifornia St Joseph’s - I wouldn’t be writing this. My chances of survival were virtually nil. I feel great. Humbled once more. Home tomorrow! #spnfamily

Posted on Instagram on Saturday, Dec 2 ~5pm EST

for #carryonanniversaryweek day 5: soulmates

It’s November and you’re four years old and your brother is only six months and you already know that if you lost him tomorrow you wouldn’t know who you are anymore. 

You kiss him on the forehead and tell him goodnight. 

You run out the front door with him only a few hours later.

It’s November and you’re twenty-six years old and your brother is only twenty-two and you’re staring up at his dorm complex with your hands stuffed into your pockets, shaking slightly, working up the courage to break in. 

It’s cold and your breath comes out in puffs and you know that if you don’t get the answer you want, you might just drive off a bridge.

You walk out the front door with him an hour later. 

Two days after that you’ll carry him out.

It’s May and you’re twenty-seven years old and your brother is only twenty-three and you’re running towards him as a knife is pulled from his back and he falls to his knees.

You catch the world in your arms and watch it fade away to nothing like sand slipping through your fingertips.

You’re pretty sure the whole world can hear your scream.

It’s February and you just turned twenty-eight and your brother isn’t yet twenty-four and you’re being held tight in his arms and you don’t fully understand why, only that he tells you he never wants to listen to Asia again. 

When he tells you the full story, you spend the night after the revelation awake and staring at the ceiling.

You try to imagine what Hell might be like. 

You see your brother dying over and over and over again with no way to ever stop it and almost throw up as fear eats away at your stomach.

It’s May and you’re still twenty-eight and your brother is only twenty-four and your chest is being shredded and your blood is flying in all directions and you can hear your brother screaming. Or is that you?

The world goes dark and comes back into focus in a world of darkness, pain, and loneliness. 

You scream your brother’s name. It’s the only prayer you know.

It’s September and you’re not yet twenty-nine and your brother is still only twenty-four and you see him for the first time in forty years and you smile for the first time in just as long. 

When he holds you, you nearly breakdown.

His arms feel exactly as you remember them. 

It’s May and you’re twenty-nine and your brother is only twenty-five and you’re calling to him, not sure he can hear you through the wood of the door, but that doesn’t matter. He needs to hear you.

He doesn’t. 

Your heart cracks in half.

It will never heal.

It’s May and you’re thirty and your brother is only twenty-six and you’re pressed up against your car, your face fucked to Hell and that’s what you’re staring at right now, a gaping maw to Hell, open in the earth before you.

Your brother stands on the edge of it with his arms spread wide.

For a moment it seems like he won’t fall in.

He does. 

This is the first time you think you’ve lost him forever.

It’s November and you’re forty-six and your little brother is only forty-two and a lot of time has passed. And this is the last time you’ll see him. So you make sure you’re looking at him when you tell him everything you never did.

You die in his arms and you’ve never felt so comfortable and warm in all of your life. 

There’s a smile on your face when your soul leaves your body. 

You never see the way your brother breaks apart once you’re gone.

It’s very warm out and you’re waiting for someone and then you turn and your little brother is beside you on a bridge in summer and you’re smiling. He smiles back and pulls you into his arms.

You’re crying, but it’s alright now. You both know it’s the last time you’ll ever do it and suddenly your sobs transform into peals of laughter.

Nothing has ever been so perfect.