Have I ever said anything about spn silent “”“”“majority”“”“” on my blog? You don’t know what I think of it. But here, I will tell you.
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pinksunglasses reblogged lulz-time:
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omg i almost forgot to change my background from naked lesbians to something more appropriate for the poor techie that gets to deal with my laptop’s misbehavior
but to be nice i moved my porn to a more obvious place
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Heathcliff, I AM Grizabella.
I have a terrible habit of whipping out the ol’ Photo Booth whenever I’m bored, which has resulted in an ungodly number of grainy, washed-out documentations of our salad days…. but actually: I was looking through them last night, and when I wasn’t shielding my eyes from the horror, I was busy drowning in an ocean of nostalgia.
That one time when we found the SCIENCE!-and-Learning store:
That one time when, after days of unsatisfying tea, we found milk in a lockless place:
That one time I genuinely believed that my boots couldn’t get any worse (EHHEHEHEH)
That one time we…. what was it, again?
That one AVENGESAOINGOISNEOINOPIHNIhn
HELP MY COLLEGE CAREER IS FLASHING BEFORE MY EYES AND I STILL HAVE THREE YEARS TO GO…….. it’s been less than five days. If I don’t find something to occupy my time immediately, I worry that by Fall I’ll look rather similar to that unfortunate blonde in Planet of the Apes.
I just really want to go ba-ha-haaack…. Smithdrawal: it’s a serious issue.
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I will refrain from reblogging Avengers spoiler things until after Kate has seen it
After that, you’re all S.O.L.
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Aphotic
It only happens in the dark, this thing they do. In dark motel rooms in the dead of night, lights out and curtains drawn and doors locked. They covet it like a secret, but wrap it up in a guilty silence and store it in the spaces where their eyes can’t meet. It stays hidden in the pauses they take for breath and the damning, frantic touches they fall into like sinners.
They don’t talk about it. They don’t question it or label it or look too closely, afraid of what they might find. They don’t try and excuse it, or reason through it.
They’re Winchesters. They’re good at denial. It’s in their genes.
In the daylight it’s easy to ignore. It’s easy to pretend that Sam doesn’t know the curve of Dean’s hips and Dean doesn’t know the right way to drag his fingers to make Sam scream.
In the daylight, Dean can play his music obnoxiously loud and chew with his mouth wide open and Sam can roll his eyes and scowl at his laptop and they can be brothers and nothing else.
Nothing more.
Nothing dark and dirty and forbidden and wrong.
Nothing desperate and needy and chaotic and painful.
In the daylight they are brothers.
In the dark they are Sam and they are Dean and they are everything and nothing and they are broken and they are whole.
But only in the dark.
