my heart like one good rifle

20 years late is still fashionably late, right? So I just finished season 1 of Supernatural and dare I say I have a favourite brother 🫣

We are not human - 2014/2015

 Counterpieces

Meg

Castiel

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Hello gays and lovely people! Whatever is saved in July is going to be used on mother's eyes (after 2 surgeries she'll need a third). I need to continue my anemia treatment. My back pain has become worse and more often. We both have chronic health issues and living on benefits means bills keep happening cause emergencies keep happening. We weren't prepared for this, as most of us disabled and financially struggling people aren't.

Today we paid rent, food and utensils, thanks to benefits + help, and we might need it again. Please, if you can support us in any way, any dono is appreciated.

P@ypal/wise is: [email protected]

$50/300 ($250 left)

Like said, I know lots of us struggle, and if you can't or prefer not to help, I totally get it... Thank you so much regardless, and special thanks to people who reach out with kindness. More info under the cut.

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Furnace-hot, Cas moves in next to him. “Do you want me to take over so you can sit? Forgive me, but... I can see you’re in pain.”

Which sends Dean's hackles up instantly. Old habit. Bitchy one, too. Miles long resentment of people telling him what he is and isn’t capable of, based on their assessment of how he has to live his own trashfire life. “I’m good,” he bites out, clipped.

“I... Fuck.” Cas rounds down on himself, somehow both pathetic and adorable. “That was the wrong thing to say to you.”

“No. No, it’s just...” Fermented bitterness bubbling up, the toxic slime of having to defend his competence to abled-bodied looky-loos harbouring a bunch of stupid assumptions. “It’s a sore spot. I’m sorry. You mean well, but... I got this.” He offers up a placating, close-lipped smile.

Cas sighs. Nods. Doesn’t straighten out. “Let me explain. I know you’re capable. Clearly,” he says, looking around the whole room, as if Dean’s spotless kitchen is indicative of anything other than an OCD streak. “But, I’m a massage therapist, and I work primarily with people who are in pain. I know it when I see it, and sometimes I... overstep.”

Massage therapist? Dean gawks, again. What kind of wet dream is this guy? That has to be awkward as hell for his clients. Mr. Huge n’ Handsome with his gigantic mitts all over the tenderest body meats? Jesus H. Christ. “You feel people up for a living, huh?” Dean teases.

Turns out they can both say stupid things. 

Cas reaches for his beer and gives him a cold (massive) shoulder. “Not that kind of massage." There’s resignation in it. Like every loser asshole he’s ever told about his work has made the same godawful joke.

“You’ve... You’ve heard that one before.” Dean, defeated, notices a splotch of oil he missed when he last sponged the stovetop.