#reread it

[whywasthissohardtomake]

i am slowly working up the motivation to write an essay about june/john and my feelings on them.

[babysoftboyking]

snippet of a wlw samdean fic i don’t think i’m ever going to finish

——

sam’s head turns and then she looks down at where she’s seated, her nose scrunching up like she’s thinking about complaining about the filthiness of the environment (even though they’ve fucked in places filthier than this by a landslide) but deanna shuts her up with a kiss, devouring her whole, trying to cram all of that love and devotion she holds for her down her throat with her tongue. deanna places her hands on either side of sam, pulling back to stare into her eyes and admire her features. it’s not often sam let’s her openly ogle like this and get away with it, so deanna treasures each gas station memory, bottling them all up for when they’re eventually back on the road and sam gets cagey again, doesn’t wanna be touched for more than a few seconds max, something that will either range from two weeks to two months.

sam stares back at her and it makes dean feel vulnerable in a way nobody else ever has, flayed wide open until she’s paper thin and see through, pinned under the scrutiny of her sister’s watchful gaze. sam sees it all; all the filthy, griddy shit she keeps buried deep inside, usually hidden under lock and key but sam knows. has known how to jimmy a lock since she was eleven, and the worst part is she doesn’t even need to pick this one, it just opens right up real easy for her every damn time. dean’s never been so easy for anybody else, so damned predictable and pliant, and it kind of scares her, but she thinks it should also scare her a lot more than it already does, the kind of flippant power sam holds over her with a bat of her eyelashes and a well placed please.

her sister holds a lock and key to all of her secrets, but she’s not so sure she holds the key to all of sam’s, not anymore. there’s a hardness there where there wasn’t before, prepubescent starry eyed sweetness melting away into an impenetrable fortress of bitchitude that requires some secret, matrix level passcode dean doesn’t have anymore just to have a fraction of a decent conversation.

sam’s getting harder and harder to decipher these days, and dean’s not stupid, she’s noticed something brewing for a while; fights with dad have been at an all time high, not to mention sam’s been so on edge lately that dean can barely say hello most mornings without getting hissed at— and she knows sam doesn’t mean it, can see that awful look of regret in her eyes afterwards once they’ve stopped yelling over each other, but neither one of them knows how to stop and ask, dean least of all. so, in situations like these, it’s either fight or fuck, and at this point the fighting is almost like foreplay.

they haven’t fought this time though, just gentle hands and hushed laughter, and that almost hurts more than the bruise sam left on her cheek a few days ago from a sparring match that quickly turned heated.

dean’s brought back to the present by sam cupping her cheek, the look on her face reverent and open, like dean is the most fascinating thing in the world to her as she drags her thumb slowly across her cheek, pressing down ever so slightly once she reaches the purpled mark, the dull ache throbbing intensely under the pressure. it’s a harsh reminder that the serenity they’ve found here in this little rest stop can’t last forever, eventually that feeling will fade too, just like the bruise and the pleasure pull pain of it— nothing stays forever.

((nothing will ever compare, not to this, not to sam.))

dean thinks, maybe that thought holds more weight now more than ever, the feeling of her little sister growing more and more distant, slipping out of her fingers like sand through an hourglass—the fear that one day she’ll wake up and sam won’t be right there next to her— thoughts like those send a spike of gut wrenching anxiety through her chest, tightening around her throat like barbed wire until she has to take two deep breaths just to breathe. she knows sam sees it but doesn’t say anything, hand resting soothingly against her cheek while she waits for dean to regain her footing. once she comes back to herself dean’s grip around sam’s waist tightens unconsciously, hard enough to hurt, and she huffs, a ghost of a laugh before she bats sam’s hand away from her cheek.

sam’s still just silently staring at her, eyes all narrowed the way they get when she’s thinking real hard, so to break the tension dean says, “that hurt, you dick.” but it doesn’t come out quite right like she meant it to, bravado lost and replaced with the impending dread of heartache. from where, dean doesn’t know, but she’s had feelings like this before. she knows that whatever it is, it’s inevitable, an unpreventable force, and she hates it. it’s kind of like how dogs can sense when a storm is silently brewing just by the subtle changes in the air— it’s this horrible, uneasy feeling that weighs on her chest and clogs up her throat, because she knows the storm is going to hit eventually cause the clouds have been kind of gray lately, but she just doesn’t know when or where or how the other shoe is gonna drop and it’s fucking awful. so, so fucking awful not knowing.

sam sighs and finally says, “how many stds do you think we’re gonna get, excluding the ones you already have, if we take our clothes off in here?”

dean snorts, thankful for the derailment, and says, “first of all, fuck you, and second of all, how about we find out?” she waggles her eyebrows, fingers prying gently at the corners of sam’s shirt, no protest made as the teasing caress of her hands explore the expanse of her sister’s beautiful skin, groping and squeezing, but before long tender featherlight touches turn rough, dirt encrusted fingernails digging crescent shaped imprints in to the soft sides of her baby. a carnal need for more gradually surges up from deep within; the intimacy and vulnerability of it all makes dean feel violent, crazed, an urgent need to bite, to claim—she inevitably caves, sliding Sam's shirt up and off of her, tossed haphazardly somewhere behind them on the dirty bathroom floor. sam grumbles slightly, but it doesn’t really matter, they have to stop by the laundromat later anyways. skin exposed, dean bites into the expanse between neck and shoulder, body draped over sam’s as she sucks deep purple welts into her flesh, bites so deeply it stings; she laps up sam’s sweat, the salty taste of her like holy water as she leaves the grooves of her teeth imprinted there, where she belongs. she wishes she could draw blood, sometimes. she wonders if sam would ever let her, if she’d even care.

[bigbadwolfwood]

happy thursday (said with a smile & tears in my eyes)

[septemberkisses]

the fact that i'm no longer the same age as the protagonists of novels and films i once connected to is so heartbreaking. there was a time when I looked forward to turning their age. i did. and i also outgrew them. i continue to age, but they don't; never will. the immortality of fiction is beautiful, but cruel.

[thatbuddie]

people telling you they reread your fic is the biggest compliment you could ever receive. there are thousands of stories out there begging to be found, to be explored, but your story meant so much to someone that they came back to it eagerly, they went over every word again. to love is to return and loving a fic is rereading it. thank you to all readers and rereaders <3333

[theodysseyofhomer]

odysseus absolutely does present a threat to penelope if he perceives her as at all unfaithful, and i feel the unfairness of this, and i think people tend to undersell how much tension at least potentially exists between odysseus and penelope. but i'm also like. his reaction, all speculation aside, his actual reaction in the odyssey to her flirting with the suitors is delight, because he immediately ascertains that she is running a con. sorry that they're so in-sync in spite of the forces that try to drive a wedge between them, including their own misgiving hearts. sorry that they invented homophrosyne ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[lowkeydivine]

Underrated panel

[chessb0r3d]

Analysis so bad you don't even know what it's talking about anymore.

[laikabu]

save me mother and child imagery save me thistle’s innate desire for a family save me (peep the mother and child painting on the first pic)

[gerrykeay]

did you know there's a day-by-day timeline of the plot in the dungeon meshi adventurer's bible and TODAY is when it all kicks off

happy falin gets eaten and the gang starts eatin' day :)

[shining-just-4-u]

u ever read a fanfic so good that you want. fanfic of the fanfic

[valtsv]

are we still doing this because i have a late submission

[lokorum]

jon needs a door and i need a fucking break from this weather uhhh

music from the..floor?? ♪┏(・o･)┛♪

[lotus-pear]

SIGHHHH BSD REREAD…................I MISS THEM SO MUCH :(((

[butchdarling]

You know that study that found when doing a blind taste test the majority of people prefer pepsi over coca cola so coke changed their recipe to taste more like pepsi, and people actually liked the new coke a lot less because the people who were buying coke didn't want it to taste like pepsi they wanted their coke to taste like coke. That's what a lot of the new changes tumblr is working on feel like.

[metamorphesque]

— Sylvia Plath, "The Bell Jar"