I Looove That Sam Is Taller Than Dean. It Calls Attention To Just How Fucked Up Their Dynamic Is.

have you ever been in love?

then you understand that you cannot fall out of it.

you’re arms are a hole and i know that there’s a way out

somewhere.

but loving you is a comfort that

I don’t want to part from to look.

— Warsan Shire

wincestiel this, wincestiel that, but have you ever considered Dean using Castiel to get at Sam.

He goads him into his first kiss and uses his baby brother as a means for practice. I mean shit- Sammy can kiss, okay? He’s no virgin.

Cas is trusting, trusts no one but Dean so he lets himself be lured in. Thrusting his tongue into Sam’s small mouth under Deans heavy gaze. He gives them pointers here and there.

Sam’s neck is arched up all sexy. Moles and strain evident as its muscles move with his lips. Dean has to put his mouth on it. They’re all just fooling around, it’s nothing weird. Think of it as a little added fun.

Suddenly it’s Deans tongue in sam’s mouth as he lays it all on him and they’re horizontal on the bed. Humping at each other like dogs. Fucking each other everywhere, especially brain-wise.

They come up for air and Cas isn’t even in the room anymore. It’s just heavy panting and belt buckles clinking as they pack up their spent dicks.

It’s another motel the next time it happens, and it’s just the two of them.

//TW//Ab*se, M*rder//

G*ps* R*se is honestly a better person than me, cause my mom would have to beg to only have those stab wounds to part earth with.

She would’ve personally been fed every drop of medicine left from that big ass pantry from my own hand. I would’ve made sure she wouldn’t feel a thing in any of her muscles expect the brain. And rest assured, she’d be parked in that wheelchair in front of loud ass cartoons until she kills herself from lunacy.

She got off too fucking easy. Mental abuse is a killer; a million times more deadly than physical abuse the way it burns on your soul for your entire life. The lights look different, you can hear them buzz louder. Footsteps aren’t just soft padded noises, they come down like thunder and they match your heartbeat. You feel suffocated, trapped, in a cycle of betraying them or yourself. You are never the victim even when you so very much are.

The PTSD is the same, I guess. You flinch at movement, have nightmares, search for a way out in every space you occupy, think of the entire conversation and rehearse it over and over before they happen, and you never feel alone.

G*ps* is luckier in a way. Her abuser messed up by letting her feel too unloved, and the guilt that bitches life was floating on sunk, hard.

ABT ME

name ; nvrhere fav things ; myself , writing age ; 22 posting ; teen wolf, supernatural, IWTV , myself , adhd rambles

"One day I will get over them I swear"

*Looks at the 200+ open ao3 tabs*

“You never let anyone get close enough to hurt you” you said to me right before I let you close enough and right before you hurt me.

creepy groomer i used to work with when i was 17 started texting me again . i think he’s 28 now.

strange? does he not remember how the entire circumstance of which i let him step within the mandated 6 feet during covid was because i liked the attention from older men?

being in my 20’s just means i like them 40 and up now , not guys a mere 6 years older.

i was thinking about making a tinder just to message them and feel a rush but ik that’ll crash and burn so badly. a whole population of men with nothing to lose having a picture of my face and sweet words from me. i can already feel the fear and i’m trying to convince myself it’s a bad fear NOT a good one.

he’s messaged me twice now . just a “hey,” and I wonder what he means. Is it to get my attention , is he hoping I’ve kept the same number , is he scared of saying what he wants. does a shark announce he’s going to tear your limb from your body or does it just unhinge it’s jaw awaiting the moment where it swims close enough to snap shut?

forcing yourself to love the little things.

going outside and being miserable. just to have said that you went outside that day.

listening to music that makes your teeth clench.

wearing clothes that squeeze you too tight so you can look put together.

it’s a ruse. it’s a cover up. it’s a poor excuse for a life. but fuck- at least i’m trying to live it?

Leila Chatti, from “Tea”

I guess that’s why I like to read so much.

I’m alone a lot, and for the most part I don’t hate it- with my father’s Appalachian genetics I have realized that I am probably better equipped for that than most people. But I also recognize that isolation isn’t beneficial to me as a human, and sometimes I can feel it squeezing me from all sides, my social skills leaking away from the applied pressure. My lips dry out and glue themselves shut. When I’m reading a book I have another person’s voice with me for a week or so, and that can feel like a kind of warmth. As if I have a visitor.