You know how casting people and directors and stuff are like “When we find the right person we just know they’re the one”

But ok consider that you have internal prejudices surrounding race gender body etc

This means that certain kinds of people don’t get to be “the one” just bc you have these aversions through societal conditioning, so y'all all never gonna get that feeling deep in you that they’re The One for that role, and that The One feeling only comes for the skinny white ppl

So like, Mr. Telsey, why don’t you work on that within yourself

babybrotherdean  asked:

!!! John with small babies pre-fire doing. Baby things. ??? Being cute and soft, maybe. ;-;

Mary left a small basket full of flowers on the table. She’d meant to arrange them, put them in a vase, but now Dean’s gotten to them, and John’s just sitting there, watching him pick them up one by one and squish them together and separate them again. He’s putting them on the table side by side, making small piles of them; the only time John intervenes is when he starts picking petals off the white one, whatever it is.

“Hey, now. Mommy’s not going to be happy if you ruin her flowers.”

“Mm,” Dean says and sits down, watching the flower a little dejectedly.
Then he puts it back down on the table and grabs a bunch of other ones, making a small bouquet in his hand. He offers it towards his father with a smile that makes his round cheeks puff.

John chuckles quietly, lifting baby Sam a little higher up over his arm so that he can accept the bouquet from Dean. The kid on his lap makes a whiny sound and his face crumples up for a moment before he figures that things are still good and nobody’s waking him up abruptly. Dean toddles forwards, leaning to and over John’s leg: he examines his small brother for a moment before making a happy sound and looking at John.

“He’s so tiny,” he says then in that childish tone of pure content happiness that he often wears on him, “And so dumb.”

“Don’t say that about your brother. I bet he’s really, really smart.”

“He’s a dumb baby.”

John laughs.
“You’ll see.”

“Hey, Dad.”

“Yeah, buddy?”

“Can you put a flower behind my ear like - like in the cartoons?”

A small smile lingers on John’s face as he nods.
“Sure I can. Pick the best and I’ll make sure it stays put.”

Dean comes back with the white flower he was about to abuse earlier, and he hands it to John looking somewhat nervously excited. John straightens the flower’s stem and puts it behind Dean’s earlobe, pulls it back a little so that the flower touches the skin and balances itself so that it doesn’t fall off right away.

Further away, the door opens: Mary’s back home. John rests his hand on Dean’s shoulder and looks him in the eye.

“Go say hi to your mom,” he tells him in a secretive voice, “See if she notices anything different.”

Dean nods excitedly and rushes away. His small steps pitter-patter away as John leans back to the couch and closes his eyes.

Yeah, a nap wouldn’t hurt.