iwoulddothingstothisman - Tumblr blog

[iwoulddothingstothisman]

Amazon Prime: well, the contract seems to be in order. so tell us again why you want this new season of Supernatural to be rated mature

Jensen Ackles writing the 45 minute long destiel reunion explicit gay sex scene in his mind where he gets thrown against several walls, held down, and choked: uh. i think dean should swear

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ruby looks at sam like, at any moment, she could unhinge her jaw and and eat him whole

and she's so right for that

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RIP Lazurus Rising Cas. You would have loved beating the shit out of Dean winchester in season 15

He would have destroyed that old man (sexual) (also violent)

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"dean didn't recipro-" yes he did, he literally told me

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This is how many bullets they shot on a fucking kid.

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also re: my dean + sex work post, and especially the quote from 1x08 where dean's talking abt making money through non-legal ways like hustling and scamming and he says, "it's what we were raised to do" and then connecting that to the scene in 1x20 where john tells dean "you know what to do" cut to-- dean playing monster bait (and being nonconsensually kissed by a vampire) and then connecting that to the cut line from 14x14 where dean tells cas that john used to make him play the wide-eyed hitchhiker routine as monster bait on hunts. dean was groomed from a young age by john to see his body as nothing more than a tool and weapon. he learned from a young age that his body is an object. he is daddy's blunt little instrument. he is something that can be used for a purpose and then discarded. he's repeatedly used as a soldier and weapon by john when he's needed and then abandoned and neglected when he's not. and i think that mentality absolutely influenced how he saw his body in relation to sex and sex work. and i'm not saying sex work can't be empowering or positive for some people but in dean's specific case and circumstances it wouldn't have really been a choice but more a desperate last ditch option. but one that he doesn't even waver much on because of all these prior experiences that have primed him for being objectified. like he's already had so much of his personhood stripped, he'd already been objectified as a weapon, seeing himself as expendable and only useful when he's being used. all of this made him so vulnerable and desensitized in a way that sex work for survival wouldn't even be a huge jump for him. it's another way he can be useful and make sure he's providing for his brother and fulfilling his number one job as caretaker.

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Divine Purpose

Dean never could grasp the concept that he is, in fact worth saving. Even after the apocalypse and Death retrieving Sam's soul from the Cage he still had nights where he was kept awake by the 'what if's.

What if he hadn't been saved and Adam was chosen instead of him, Sam even if Lucifer was in control, certainly would have beaten him.

What if he hadn't been saved and Sam never said yes to Lucifer.

What if he hadn't been saved and it all happened anyways.

What if he hadn't been saved and Sam realised on his own that there was something off about Ruby without Dean's nagging making him want to stay working with her out of defiance.

What if, what if, what if.

Sometimes it got to the point that Dean prayed to Cas to ask him to send him into unconsciousness.

Tonight was one of those night.

It had been a shit hunt, Dean would be the first to admit that, it was all wrong from the get go. The intel they had been given by another hunter had been off and instead of it being a small vampire nest of seven or eight, it was a nest of 15 and Cas had been away on 'Angel Business' for the last week so Dean was tired and missing his boyfriend. Sam was still recovering from a nasty blow he took on their last hunt and was walking with a limp and his right shoulder flared if he lifted his arm above rib height.

In the end they had done what they needed to do but it certainly wasn't pretty. Sam had taken out a few of the fuckers before he was pinned by two others. Dean had seen the pure panic on his little brother's face and saw red. He didn't know how he did it he tore his way through the nest until all that was left was a pile of bodies and a pile of heads (please tell me you get the reference). He hauled Sammy to his feet and slipped an arm under his shoulder when Sam almost collapsed. It was a slow trek to the Impala and a speedy car ride to the motel room before Dean relaxed at all.

Sam was patched up and fast asleep once Dean was sure he wasn't concussed before Dean finally allowed himself to let his guard down enough to pray to Cas.

"Cas, if you're not busy I could use some company." Dean admitted in a rare moment of vulnerability.

Not two minutes later, right when Dean was about to turn out the light, roll over and prepare for another sleepless night spent staring at the motel door came the soft flutter of feathers right behind Dean. He immediately turned and felt a deep, deep sense of relief flooding him.

"Hello Dean." Was all he said before he sat down on the edge of the mattress.

"Hey Cas." Dean breathed while he shuffled over to be sitting next to Cas.

They both sat there neither daring to move for fear of scaring off the other. Finally Dean took the leap of faith and gently placed his head on Cas' shoulder and let out a deep sigh as he relaxed.

"Hey Cas?" Dean asked, earning a hum to signal him to keep going.

"Why do you always come when I call?" The question had been eating at him for longer than he cared to admit and tonight was the night he decided to take the plunge.

Cas carefully considered his words, he knew that if he said the wrong thing he risked Dean shutting him out yet again and he would do almost anything to stop that from happening.

"Divine purposes." He said with a soft smile.

He had hoped that would be the right thing to say but when Dean sucked in a sharp, shaky breath Cas knew that he had said the wrong thing yet again.

"Is that it though? Is that the only reason you're still here, because God commanded it?" Dean refused to look at Cas, instead focussing on Sam and the slow rise and fall of his chest.

"Of course not. I went through hell because we needed you but I fell in love with you on the way. I fell in love with every centimetre of you, I fell in love with the pattern of your freckles and the scars that prove that you survived but most of all I fell in love with your mind, with how much you care, how you are willing to break yourself so that people you don't even know get to remain whole." During this Cas slipped his hand into Dean's feeling him tighten his grip when Cas mentioned his scars.

Dean stayed silent for a while but his grip on Cas' hand remained steady and he didn’t lift his head from his shoulder.

"Thank you," He said before shuffling back on the bed a bit.

Cas made to stand thinking that Dean was going to send him off anyways so he could sleep, only for Cas to feel Dean's hand shoot out and grab his wrist. Cas spun his head around to see Dean fighting for the right words and holding his wrist tight.

"Stay with me, please." Dean couldn't meet Cas' eyes, instead tracing the outline of his trench coat.

"Of course." He made to lift the covers on his but Dean's hand on his wrist stopped him. He tilted his head to the side, not sure why Dean was now pushing him away.

"Trench coat, belt and shoes remain outside the bed." He said with a tired grunt and a point in the general direction of the table that was in the centre of the room.

He was back at the side of the bed when he finished, still unsure of what to do when Dean reached out and yanked him onto the bed, where he's pulled the covers back.

Cas shuffles so that he's lying next to Dean who immediately snuggles up to him. Cas freezes for a second before he released a breath he didn't need and let his arms settle over Dean's back.

"Night Cas," Dean mumbled, muffled by the way his face was buried in the crook of Cas' neck.

"Goodnight Dean." Cas ran his fingers through Dean's hair and gently rubbed his back, lulling him to sleep.

If it's fuck arse early in the morning and Sam wakes up needing to pee and he sees his brother and the Angel tangled together and he takes a photo that's nobody's business.

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For the First Time I Feel

"Dude, you're fucked," Sam said right after Dean asked which fabric softener he thought Cas would like better.

"Shut the fuck up." Dean snapped back and put back the vanilla one, settling on petrichor and cinnamon.

"I don't even know if he has the same sense of smell the people do."

"I'm pretty sure he does, mainly because he said I smelt like grease the other day, he didn't even hug me!" Dean exclaimed.

"Oh no, the horror. I'm sure that means he doesn't love you anymore."

"Piss off."

Dean stalked away from Sam, leaving him in the laundry aisle. He had planned on leaving the store after that until he saw the baking aisle. How long had it been since he baked himself a pie instead of getting shitty store bought or half cold pie from dodgy service stations. With a sharp turn he went down the aisle until he found the pre-made pie shells, because he loves pie but not enough to make the shell from scratch. Next was the produce aisle, he grabbed a half dozen green apples, then a sheet of puff pastry followed by travel sized packs of cinnamon, vanilla essence and brown sugar.

Eventually Sam found him while he was lined up at the checkout waiting to cash out with a shopping basket that was 20 bucks dearer than planned. Sam simply raised an eyebrow when he saw the contents of the basket.

"What, I figured it was time I made a pie myself again. It always tastes better when you make it ya'self." Dean defended.

"If you say so." Sam agreed with a sceptical frown.

Dean was cursing up a storm in the shitty motel kitchen, he forgot to buy flour so the pastry was sticking to everything, the motel peeler was as sharp as a marble, eventually it got to the point where he asked (pleaded) for Sam to peel the last three apples for him then the shell didn't want to unstick from the plastic it was wrapped in which Dean eventually cut off. The only thing that seemed to be going right was making the syrup-eques mixture he had simmering away in a pot that was half full with water, brown sugar, cinnamon and vanilla that he was going to soften the apples in once he finally got them cut up then pour it all in the pie shell. (Please know this isn't a recipe this is just how I would assume it's done and am appropriating my apple crumble skills, if someone wants to try this please let me know how it goes.) Once he finally got the pastry strips crossed over the pie and then got the bastard in the oven he had decided he was never doing this again.

"I'm tellin' ya, Sammy, if I ever say I want to do this again I want you to laugh at me."

He set the oven timer for 45 minutes, then cleaned the mess he'd made of the kitchen and went for his shower, in an attempt to get the everything off him.

By the time he had finished and was walking out, his towel draped over his head, covering his still wet hair, the pie was done and Cas and Sam were sitting at the table chatting about art history of all things.

"Good god, I'm gone for 20 minutes and you two join the geek squad," Dean teased while glancing over to the stove top where the pie was resting.

"Says the guy that can recite Return of the Jedi right along with Mark Hamill," Sam said, rocking back in his chair.

"Shut up." He mumbled while shuffling over to press a kiss to the crown of Cas' head before checking out the pie.

"It went off just before you came out." Sam said.

Dean grabbed three plates and forks and a shitty knife from around the kitchen before cutting three slices of pie and passing one each to Sam and Cas before sitting down on the opposite side of the table.

Sam muttered his thanks before digging in and Dean was halfway through the slice when Cas spoke up.

"Dean… you do realise I don't need to eat, nor can I taste most things." He said squinting at Dean.

"I know." Dean barely looked up from his plate before replying.

"Then why did you give me some?"

"Because it would've felt weird just getting some for Sammy and I, plus maybe you might be able to taste this." Dean gave him a small smile and a shrug. This apparently was enough convincing for Cas because he dug in right after.

At first Cas couldn't taste anything, just feel the weight of the pie in his mouth and as it travelled do his throat. After another two bites however something changed. Some little part of his brain told him it was sweet. He didn't know how he knew that, he just did.

"I- I can taste it." He said in equal parts shock and delight.

"Wait seriously?" Dean perked up.

"Yes, it's sweet, right?" Cas asked.

"Yeah, it is." Dean said with a massive grin while walking over to stand next to Cas. He hesitated for a second before engulfing him in a tight hug.

All Sam could do was watch his brother's dumb boyfriend hold onto his dumber brother, he knew that things would go wrong and the happiness wouldn't last but while it did he was content to watch them relish in it. 

Is this heinously late? Yes.

Do I care? Not really.

I am going to be finishing this, it's probably just gonna take a while.

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i’m not immune to dean winchester and i think of him young and alone haunting highways like some sort of doe eyed freckled angel in a leather jacket too big for him and i doubt there was a single person immune to him. he saves your life and hits on you without following through and drives off in a car louder than him and you think maybe god has good and bad days after all

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Jensen having to come up with new and creative ways to ask to be choked within an inch of his life

Jensen - ‘hey guys it’s been a while since Dean got choked out by a man, I think I - I mean Dean, I think Dean really needs it’

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detective novak has been trying to get a different partner for a while now (id sell a kidney to watch them bicker)

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Sam Winchester text posts

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i've only had "there's an air of faggotry" in my vernacular for one day but if anything happened to it i'd kill everyone in this room and then myself

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my terrible gif post <3 feel free to use whenever!

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i want to coin a phrase that's the opposite of writer's block. call it the muse's fire hydrant. thirty thousand story ideas are being beamed directly into your brain and if you don't write them all at once you will die.

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