HE WOULD’VE DIED WHEN CASTIEL MOLOTOVED MICHAEL, JUST LIKE JIMMY DIED WHEN LUCIFER EXPLODED CAS. HE’S ALREADY IN HEAVEN; MICHAEL WAS JUST WEARING HIS MEATSUIT. WE’RE EVEN TOLD CANONICALLY THAT SAM WAS THE *ONLY* SOURCE OF AMUSEMENT FOR MICHAEL AND LUCIFER IN THE CAGE – WHY? BECAUSE ADAM WASN’T THERE.
A movie that glorifies the death of Muslims and another that glorifies the abuse of women are Hollywood’s biggest and most anticipated movies of 2015. We got a problem.
I play a very vain tycoon out in space, as one does. Unfortunately, part of the deal was that I had to be ripped and I’ve never been ripped in my life, and so I did that thing that Hollywood actors do of being fed nothing but chicken for months and doing, like, eight gazillion stomach crunches. And it got to the scene and, basically, you know, I’d literally worked months and I think it’s, blink and you’ll miss. I don’t think there’s even a moment of observing the abs. It’s disastrous, kind of. And the worst thing of all was I was hoping that after this, after all these months of doing crunches, at least after filming this, I could get a day off to really go with my wife and we could go to a beach and I could just stand there for a moment going “Haaa! Look what I’ve got!” But I’m hoping maybe one day they’ll reemerge, come from their fossilized place, my abs.
Eddie Redmayne sharing his disappointment that his abs were cut from Jupiter Ascending, on the Conan O’Brien Show.
Dean Winchester once wore pink panties, is a Dr. Sexy MD junkie, reads Vonnegut, is inventive, highly intelligent, compassionate, thinks women deserve better than shitty men, hates double standards, rocks out to Taylor Swift, and nobody can take those things away from me.
“Dean, it’s only some lame poltergeist. And I’ll pick up Dad on my way, remember? I’ll be fine.”
He thinks of the last time Sam said that, thinks of bloody bandages and purple-blue skin for weeks. Swallows his stutters. “Promise?” Dean croaks.
“Promise.”
Later, he will tell himself that it’s been the dimples, those damn fucking dimples. They get him every time but never seemed so far away than right now. It doesn’t take much to have it all taken away, and Dean knows. Knows just too well.
When he leans in to do it, Sam simply watches him. The flutter of eyelashes is too much, so Dean has to close his eyes. Like the guy knows what’s happening. As if he had read Dean hours ago already, heard the insecurity in his jokes while he tried to build up the courage and balls to finally… yeah, to do this here, kind of.
It’s just a small smacking sound, nothing more, one firm and warm touch of lips.
Sam smiles at him when he pulls back.
“What?” The hiss comes out of habit; pure defense. Dean feels the blood rush up his neck and cheeks.
“Nothing,” Sam hums, starts the engine. Dean steps back, his heart punching his ribs as if it wanted to break them. Not that he’d even notice that right now. “We’ll be back tomorrow night, okay?”
Dean nods.
“Stay safe, little brother.”
“You too, bitch.”
Sam laughs. Dean remembers that he always wanted to see if those damn dimples’ hollows create bumps inside of his brother’s mouth and continues playing with the thought when they arch deep in Sam’s face yet again. The Impala takes him away, yet again, with the obligatory “jerk” still in the air between them.
Random Toughts 