Sam had a stubborn streak a mile long, even when he was just nine months old.

While Dean sat between the motel beds pushing his matchbox cars on imaginary highways John readied himself to try the jarred vegetables again.

"Alright, champ," John said as he adjusted the baby on his lap. "Let’s try this again."

Sam sat perfectly, toes wiggling and babbling. Perfectly until John picked up the tiny baby spoon, loaded with pulp labeled as carrots. That was when the baby decided to grab the spoon, sliding his hand down to the food and smooshing the orange mush between his fingers.

John removed the utensil from his son’s hand and gently cleaned the carrot mess. Sam clapped happily and giggled before leaning back onto his father’s chest. Inhaling deeply the sweet smell of Johnson & Johnson’s baby shampoo, John kissed the top of his son’s head. It wasn’t the first time that day John had wondered what business he had trying to raise two little boys by himself out of a car trunk. But, just as before, the image of Mary burning on the ceiling gave him all of the resolve he needed to keep going.

"Okay, buddy, I need you to eat a little before we hit the road. Can we try one more time?"

"Can I try, dad?" Dean asked quietly. The cars were in a pile on the floor and Dean stood next to the table.

The sound of the little boy’s voice had been so absent since the fire that John had to stop himself for pushing for more. It was a beautiful sound that had sorely been missed.

"Alright," John nodded, turning slightly to angle the baby towards his brother.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean smiled.

The baby clapped and cooed.

"Are you ready for the airplane?" Dean asked as he picked up the little spoon and made engine noises. "Here it comes, Sammy. Op’ up! He’s landing!"

And like magic Sam let his brother place the overloaded spoon into his mouth. The baby’s cheeks puffed out with the food and he tried grabbing the spoon from Dean.

"More planes, Sammy. Den you can have the spoon." Dean scooped up more carrots and continued the engine noises.

When all that was left in the jar was stripes of orange around the sides Dean gave the spoon to Sam. Immediately the baby hit the spoon against the edge of the table and giggled.

With relief John sighed,
“Thanks, buddy,”

"Mom always did it that way," Dean said, worrying the hem of his shirt. "She said he was a mew."

"A mew?" John’s brows pulled together.

"Yup. ‘Tubborn as a mew."

A mule. Stubborn as a mule. She had been right, as usual.

i’m a bad friend, in a lot of ways. as anyone who’s known me longer than a couple of years knows, i can drop off the radar for ages sometimes, because i just get in my own way, and let things like ‘answering text messages’ and ‘going for coffee’ become huge daunting tasks abandoned in favor of ‘the internet’ and ‘being disappointed in myself.’ i’ve been trying to train myself out of it, with medium success. i’m amazed though, at how much my mood lightens — not just emotionally, but honestly, an actual physical feeling of buoyancy, when i have occasion to telecommunicate with my girlfriend. i just walk around with a big concussed-looking grin on my face for an hour. it’s pretty great. 

Watch on

I’ve been looking at code for close to 20 hours straight and my mind is going to mush and now I’m looking at videos like this…

animate-mush replied to your post “I interacted socially with people today for almost four hours straight…”

what a good idea! also, congrats!

Thank you and thank you again! :P 

Also, today, in a bid to get everyone in my class to know my name, when the teacher asked for “a random person’s name” to use in the examples on the board; I shouted out my name.

It being a Scottish Gaelic class, the teacher used the correctScottish Gaelic spelling without prompting. I felt so happy.

Everyone in the class had to practice the examples by reading them out loud, so I had the whole class saying my name.

Thinking back on over a year of change and growth, I now realize I have never been more me than I have been over the last few months. I have friends like I’ve never had before and I want to thank those incredibly kind and genuine people for teaching me to be genuine and kind. I have learned tenderness and firmness and how to balance the two (or at least I’m getting there). I have learned to love with every inch of myself and that kinship is truly the core of my being. I love each of you dearly.

Scott and Stiles blowing bubblegum bubbles and sticking their bubbles together 

✧・゚:*✧・゚:* \(◕﹏◕✿)/ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧

Then mushing forward to pop the bubbles in a sticky bubblegum kiss 

✧・゚:*✧・゚:* \(◕ω◕✿)/ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧

anonymous said:

i have like hip length hair but when i try the braid crown it just makes it really lumpy???

Oooh. Hip is difficult. You may wanna look into pin curls. That being said, wet your hair first and give it a go. Err on the side of more smaller braids and make sure they’re aimed in different directions. Your goal is a somewhat even helmet of braids. I’d also suggest a double wig cap; once the first one is on, mush everything around to even it out as much as you can, use a second nylon one to secure everything. Also a larger capped wig will help any residual lumpiness (ie Arda or Epiccosplay).   

You maaaay not be able to pull off shorter wigs without pincurling, but for anything else that should be sufficient.

anonymous said:

omg anytime a fucking person who is Russian happens to disagree with anyone about anything their ethnicity is brought up. that's fucking bullshit man. Russian peoples' brains aren't made out of fucking mush. It's like westerners think that bc they don't agree with what the Russian government is doing they must punish all russian people and not let them speak their mindsomg ignore the dickwads ur heritage is amazing and u are a human being like everyone else and deserve to have an opinion so yeah

When the sun comes out, my campus really is beautiful :) I had legitimate, intellectual conversations with a guy after one of my lectures today which was super refreshing after the constant sex drugs and alcohol conversations that constantly crop up in my hall. Not that I have anything against that, it’s just nice to talk about other things with new people every once and a while. Ended up being a solid day. But now I need to eat cause I’ve avoided it all day and I can’t get my brain to think through the mush. Ugh. The struggles.
I hope everyone’s day was filled with sunshine and happy things.
Kaybyeeeee 🌻🌻🌻

The discrepancy between hummus perceived value and its actual value is staggering. It’s a bunch of chickpeas that have been mushed together with extruded, viscous sesame juice and oil to form a mucilaginous paste. “Oooh,” you protest, “it’s got little hunks of dried-out garlic mixed in, I must be having fun.”

You are already dead and in Hell, though you do not know it.

I was eating chips and guac today because I had this exact thought. I am better than hummus. I really am.

one saturday, i won’t have anywhere to go.
at 9:07, i’ll find you next to me
kiss your forehead
and go back to sleep

one saturday, i’ll make a slow breakfast.
while you’re in the shower,
i’m making the coffee
and you’re slipping your arms around me

one saturday, we’ll be together.
wandering farmers markets
snapping pictures of each other,
sneaking kisses

one saturday, ill go to sleep.
knowing that life can’t get better
that i’m not dreaming
that i’m finally home.

What do you see? What do you think is our enemy?