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this blog at praycd now
— 9.20
♧ Any part of their canon portrayal you dislike?
my interpretation
there are a few things that I can’t get behind, lol. The first one that comes to my head is the sex scenes. I’ve seen other people post about this but it literally baffles the hell out of me. most of the time sam is the embodiment of the gentle giant trope, especially when he deals with females. there are examples all over the place of sam’s manners and his high respect toward women. and then suddenly he turns around and all his sex scenes are so rough ??? it’s like who is this ??? it’s such a shift in personality that to me it’s just jarring.
they just do it because jared is attractive but I do not appreciate it at all.
ofmurdering:
he shrugs, takes another drag of the condensed cream and smiles. it doesn’t need to be a special day for dean to want to make something. sometimes he just does it for the hell of it, though today had simply been a coincidence. meaning it wasn’t planned, just sort of at the store picking up the regular milk, eggs, and bread, when there’d been a side stop of strawberries and jam. basically they tricked you into buying all the ingredients since it was all there———- and well how could he not? the whipped cream was what really sold him honestly. there were two more cans in the fridge. not that sam needed to know. asshole could probably eat the whole can one pull of it’s trigger.
❝ you like fruit and shit don’t you? i know it’s not a damn smoothie, but i think it’s still good. ❞
though cupcakes aren’t high on any list of organic or nutritional foods ( calcium lactylate, methylcellulose, and polyglycerol are the first words in his head ), he finds that in this case he doesn’t care. he’s eaten little and he’s eaten fairly well all day—— stuck to the organic shit that he gets to keep now that they have a fridge. besides, even if there’s no clear occasion… it’s an occasion now. it’s not every day that dean bakes. sam swipes his finger through the strawberry syrup that tops his dessert, sticks it in his mouth, and offers a grin at the sweetness of it.
‘ I had a damn smoothie for breakfast. are you planning on sharing that whipped cream ? ’
@ofmurdering
they’ve been at the same FLEABAG BAR for weeks, now, it seems. the same one over and over, in california and in wisconsin and in iowa and arkansas and idaho. he forgot how repetitive this whole country is. forgot that after time, everything looks the same. what he didn’t know is that when you’re hammered, you forget to notice. they have the night off. case wrapped up neatly, supposed ‘ orders ’ in the journal to head somewhere else, but they won’t leave until first light. they have a night to celebrate one little win. maybe he’s going just a little overboard. overboard by his own straight-laced standard. he’ll feel PATHETIC again in the morning——— tonight, he intends to swallow enough tequila to make him into a human being again. no more, and no less.
it’s enough to make him brave, to make him step in his own brother’s way, spaceless, lazy peaceable grin wiped off and no hint of any expression left in its wake. enough to make the room spin and dean’s mouth the only thing that doesn’t make his eyes dizzy. he is polite enough to at least hesitate before he decidedly ruins the only RELATIONSHIP in this world he has left.
‘ would it really kill you if we kissed ? ’
and you feel like you’ve done something terrible, like robbed a liquor store, or swallowed pills, or shoveled yourself a grave in the dirt, and you’re tired. —— you’re in a car with a beautiful boy.
ofmurdering:
sam’s been though a lot in the last twenty-four hours, but so has dean. and thinking his brother was dead, had been draining enough. but that was before he’d been tazed, and dragged to a clinic unconscious; before he’d died himself, and had come back. let alone everything else, like the hiking, and the running, and oh fuck, it was just amazing he’d made the drive back home for them both without passing out on the side of the road. all he wanted was to lay in bed and sleep. for a few years preferably, but that was just another an unobtainable dream. maybe he should have learned something today————— dying and coming back, a card of luck he’s all to happy to hold on to——— but also maybe not. when does dean ever learn from his mistakes?
the most exhausting thing he’s got to live with now besides the darkness and cas, is another damn lie to keep from sam. can’t ever tell him about trying to make a deal. they probably wouldn’t be together in the same damn room right now, with his brother’s arms outstretched to him like he were a baby again, if dean had told him. and. . . well. . . dean needed to be here. even if his brother was a sub version right now. a sam heightened to a different level of existence—— aka: stoned sam. but still. he’ll take it. so long as he gets to hold onto the beat of his brother’s heart, that’s enough.
draping the extra blanket over the other, dean curls in against the warm body, wraps his arms around in kind. ❝ you aren’t enough of a party animal to have a disco ball in your room, little brother. ❞
it’s ridiculous how pleased he is when dean sinks down into him. his arms had been extended and opened just the width of his brother’s body, and when they are full they wrap around tight, making destructive fists of the soft fabric of his shirt. dean brought another blanket to share between them. sam asked him to, but in the moment it seems so smart, so intuitive of his big brother to have retrieved it. with a grin wide and lazy, he wriggles himself closer. they can’t get much closer as is, in these military style beds. perhaps now that the fights of the past several years are over and done, they should quit fooling and move their stuff into one room. they probably won’t. they both like having their own space too much. but right now, the mere concept of space is a travesty, and sam just wants to know why they don’t have a big enough mattress here for the two of them, when these days he never wants to sleep alone.
‘ your words, not mine. ’
the whole day seems so far from them, here. a few states and a few quarts of spilled blood later, he has already forgotten the feeling of dread that had welded itself in the space just above his liver. he’d been scared, when he woke up alone without dean… but he trusted his brother not to leave him for good. the whole thing seemed so far away, now. now, the only important thing was pressing his cold nose up under dean’s ear ; noting the smiley face formed by the freckles on his temple, and chuckling softly to greet them. he pulls away enough to count them— two for eyes, one nose, and five forming the mouth. then, he looks across the room to the far corner, pointing.
‘ we could at least get a foosball table. I always wanted one of those. or a—— or that jacuzzi. ’ he hummed one long note of agreement with himself.
Devil's Food Chocolate / Fudge Behaving Badly / Purple Daze / Vanilla Fudge Ripple / White Raspberry Truffle ( hope this is okay? )
as long as you don’t mind a long response!
headcanon meme: ice cream edition
DEVIL’S FOOD CHOCOLATE: a vice headcanon : though his brother’s hang-ups are quite obvious to the observing eye, sam’s are more difficult to find. analytical as he is, he often gets intensely focused on resolving a problem—— focus which, for him, nearly borders on obsession. he uses the age-old family excuse to justify it. that, or it’s the end of the world, and nobody questions. sam has spent several nights staring at computer screens until his eyes are twitching, looking for answers that never come in the dead of night.
he’d never admit that the thing that helps him to cope with psychological pain is often physical pain. this shows up in different forms throughout. while dean is in hell, he takes to pressing the amulet, which he wears, into the skin of his chest, often leaving a bruise or an imprint. when he had lucifer in his head, he broke stitch after stitch in his palm to try to save himself. when he was dealing with the aftermath of gadreel, he took scalding hot showers to try to wash possession away.
FUDGE BEHAVING BADLY: a misbehaving/getting into trouble headcanon : he had a phase somewhere between the ages of ten and thirteen where he would attempt to run away, and usually fail. he was trying to prove something to their dad. all he really managed to do was scare the hell out of his brother. once, some guy on a bus picked his pocket and stole all his money, and he was a state and a half over when he had to call dean to pick him up.
PURPLE DAZE: a stoner/drugs headcanon : sam doesn’t really care for any of that ( even in college, he couldn’t stand the smell of it ). he did it a few times, with friends and at concerts, but never picked up the habit himself. he hasn’t done any of that shit in a long time.
on a semi-related note, because of his size, it takes a lot of anything to get to him. painkillers, when he needs them, are always a guessing game. the suggested dose does little to nothing.
VANILLA FUDGE RIPPLE: a strength headcanon : sam’s strength is often understated, often subtle enough to take anyone by surprise. though certainly he is more than capable physically, some of that declined as he began to age, and as he lost the muscle mass that he had when he was soulless.
if you asked him, he would say that his biggest strength is his intelligence. sam does not flaunt it, but he knows that he’s smart. he was always brighter than average: hence his full scholarship to a school that accepts only 5% of applicants per year, and his exceptional LSAT score. sam’s ability to problem-solve, and his attention to detail have been honed by growing up a hunter. he has a remarkable memory, too, which has also gotten the two of them out of several bad situations.
truly, though, the biggest strength he has is his ability to forgive.
WHITE RASPBERRY TRUFFLE: a weakness headcanon : nothing makes one feel weaker than possession, and sam is a veteran. the experience he had with meg was the first, and it rocked him. the ordeal with crowley and gadreel scared him more thoroughly than he ever dared to let on. to lose control of your own body, to lose consciousness of what your body is doing without your knowledge, is about the most terrifying thing that sam can think of ( and he deals in nightmares ).
❝ You know I'd do anything for you. Don't you act like I wouldn't. ❞
‘ fine.’
he’s TIRED —— so over the passing conversations that they keep having, when one fails to avoid the other. this started with dean leaving ( whether he went on his own or sam sent him away, he can’t recall, and it doesn’t really matter ) but now, he’s back. he’s home, and he’s got a weird mark on his arm and the same HOLIER THAN THOU attitude that was happy to put them in this mess in the first place. the gates of hell are still swinging wide open. metatron and GADREEL are trying to reorganize the heaven they broke in their favor. sam can’t seem to say anything in a language that his brother understands. he can’t seem to take enough hot showers.
he thinks: he should have known that feeling good was a bad thing. he thinks: how could dean do this to him ?
instead of fighting, then, he tries to keep himself locked up in his room and in the library as much as possible. these days, they only cross paths when he relents and trudges to the kitchen. every time they attempt small talk, it dissolves into a discussion of morals and ethics, heaven and hell, where the lines of family and DEPENDENCY and ridiculousness lie. sam says several things, things he means so deeply that his chest feels like someone dug a HOOK into his ribs and is suspending him from it. he says several things that he doesn’t mean, but from the flicker in dean’s eyes, makes him feel suspended, too. sam has never been purely vindictive, but people changed. he has never truly been BETRAYED, either.
‘ but that’s not my fault. I didn’t ASK you to do it. don’t try to spin it like I was in distress so you can play the HERO. that isn’t what happened, and you know it. ’
ofmurdering:
plopping down on the couch beside his brother, dean hands sam a plate of strawberry shortcake cupcakes; extra strawberries on top. made with love, of course. tipping the can to his lips, he speaks, mouth full.
❝ we’re out of whipped cream. ❞
‘ what is this ? ’
it looks like it came off the food network, like it burst from the pages of better homes and gardens—— and therefore, takes him completely by surprise. the cupcakes are one thing. it would not have been a stretch of the imagination to comprehend dean getting a craving, and picking up a betty crocker box at the gas station. but these clearly came out of no cardboard. his brother would have had to go to the grocery store. he would have had to buy FRESH strawberries. sam blinks, glancing between the plate and the mouthful of white foam his brother has, and laughs brightly.
‘ what is all this for ? it’s not my birthday yet. ’
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@ofmurdering
he’s high as hell, really —— broke into the good stuff that they keep only for emergencies, for SITUATIONS just like this. he walked more than two miles and killed two fangs with blood pouring out of his gut. and apparently, he’d been almost dead for longer than he wanted to think about. he deserved it.
he got cleaned up at the urgent care clinic, so when they get home, the only thing he has to worry about it getting into some sweats and getting in his bed. he should not be awake long. soon, the painkiller will stamp out the rest of the adrenaline that has kept him moving this long. but until then, he watches as the walls curl and wave at him, the low buzz of the air conditioning resonating close in his ears. when dean invites himself in, there’s a faint ring of pink that seems to glow around him, like an aura. pink. he grins, broad and lazy. long arms shoot straight up, out toward his brother in an INVITATION. he seems to have forgotten that he sent dean out for an extra blanket, in the first place—— but at least he’s still happy to see him.
‘ hi ! c’mere ! y’gotta show me where you wanna put the disco ball. ’
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sounds fake
You know what, man? I’m sick and tired of your kamikaze trip