backbone like steel.
backbone like barbed wire.
backbone like “touch me.
touch me and see what happens to your hands.”

smile like an oil spill.
smile like a molotov cocktail.
smile like “kiss me.
kiss me and see what happens to your tongue.”

when you get knocked around enough early on
you learn to build your body up like a prison.
the clenched white teeth,
bloody knuckle electric fence.

you forget, while playing judge and jury,
that you are your own convict,
and you have been wrongfully accused.

heart like a clenched fist.
heart like a birdcage.
heart like “love me.
oh god, what weak creature am i,
that i need you to love me?”
heart like a bomb -
and the bomb shelter.

sentenced to life without parole,
thrown into solitary,
if you ever want to see the sun again,
you’ll have to find a way to escape.

past like “fuck you.”
present like “fuck you.”
future like it will not always be like this.
future like it will not always be like this.
future like “i am trying to be soft.
i am trying to accept love without
wanting to tear us both apart.”

—  body like lockdown, elliot

TWFemslash Week: Monday, Fluff
One Word Prompt: Swimming - Allison/Lydia

Sometimes, the only thing that you can do is pretend that things are alright.

To keep your sanity, to keep your clarity, to find the strength to wake up in the morning, you have to shake your head, and push it all out. The werewolves, the hunters, the banshees, the kanimas, the kitsunes, the witches and fairies and goblins. The sick, thick cloud of evil that permeates your world. You have to push it out and ignore it. Just for a minute. Just for a while. Then you can pick yourself back up, and push through it.

It’s five thirty in the morning when Allison pushes Lydia’s suitcase into the back of her car. Five forty when they stop at the gas station and Lydia buys them two large French Vanilla cappuccinos. They drive for four hours, hit shuffle on Lydia’s iPhone, sing loudly with Marina and Lana and Natalia and Lorde.

The beach is blissfully bereft of people. They slip covers from their shoulders, kick flip flops into the sand, and Allison offers to race her girlfriend to the water. Lydia raises one perfectly sculpted eyebrow and races away from her.

If Allison pauses to watch her run, sun glinting off her copper hair, bikini clinging to her backside, no one needs to know.

The water is cold, almost too cold, October air making it bite at their skin. But they’re used to cold. It doesn’t bother them anymore.

Lydia swims circles around her, green eyes glinting, a smirk at the corner of her mouth. When Allison reaches for her, she laughs and swims a little farther away. The sound of her laughter calls out Allison’s own, and she reaches for her again.

This time, Lydia dives away, breaking beneath the surface, and Allison drags in a breath, before she chases after her. She can barely make out the shape of her through the ocean water, and when she reaches for her this time, Lydia lets herself be caught.

(Allison has no delusions that she could catch her without permission.)

She drags her towards her, lips meeting. Her hands curl around her shoulders, their bodies slipping towards the surface. They barely pause to breathe when they come up, lips melding together.

Lydia tastes like salt. But she normally tastes like salt. Sometimes like sugar. Sometimes like iron.

When she pulls back, she knocks their noses together, and laughs again. “I love you.”

Allison smiles, and presses her mouth into the line of Lydia’s throat. She noses at her scar. She breathes her in. “I love you.”

Long after sundown, they finally drag themselves out of the water. Skin gone pruny and wrinkled, bodies exhausted from hours spent fighting the tide, they don’t pause before collapsing into the sand, curling sideways, facing each other. Red and brown hair, wet and knotted, tangles together above their heads.

Allison reaches out and brushes her finger down Lydia’s nose.

“You should check your phone. See if Scott or Isaac have called.”

“I will. Later.”

Lydia hums and nods, reaches out to trail her fingers down Allison’s arm, slides her fingers over her skin until she reaches her hand. Twists their fingers together and drags her wrist to her mouth.

Somehow, she can still make Allison’s heart stop when she kisses her.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For today. I needed it.”

Allison nods in understanding, moving closer to her, sand sticking to her stomach and chest, coating her. She brushes her nose over Lydia’s, a tiredness seeping through her, starting at her hairline and spreading down to her toes. “So did I.”

Werewolves and hunters, kanimas and banshees, things that go bump in the night will always be out there. But for now, it’s just the two of them, on the shore. For now, this is the whole world.


top six selfies of 2014! i was tagged by scottstiliinski.

i’m not sure who’s done it yet bc i haven’t been around a lot, but i’m tagging scottystiles, lieutgallagher, themilkoviches, norasergeantsmisterandry, scottinpanties, and anyone else who wants to do this!

misterandry replied to your post: just generally really disappointed in …

i keep sideeying the “it’s ok to ignore if it’s upsetting to you” posts like….it’s meant to be upsetting…..i don’t see those posts when anything else is happening in the world…..how many white folks are triggered by antiblack police brutality

exactly, i saw a post about how all the news in ferguson ‘was really stressful’ and i was just like oh come on it’s stressful for you? that’s a bullshit reason to ignore what’s happening and to ignore how your own privilege in this siutation makes you feel uncomfortrable

anonymous asked:

"i h8 u" said will as he took his clothes off while freddie took her clothes off. "i h8 u 2" freddie said back and kissed will b/c they were gonna do the do. they were both naked so they got in the bed and did the sex and it was good and they hated each other. they got really kinky with like handcuffs and hair pulling and stuff like that. it was kinky and hateful and they hated each other and it was good. the e nd. i'll be takin ur firstborn now, thanx.

i don’t know whether to laugh or cry