#they really nailed the dynamic

[chaoticandsleepdeprived]

Actually Wesper’s first meeting in the show that we see on screen is so funny to me but specifically this part

Wylan: I guess I’m your demolitions man

Jesper: You? You’ve got all your fingers

( Jesper picking up vials at random and smelling them no regard for safety)

Wylan: Well maybe I’m careful

Jesper: Careful is something you learn from losing your fingers

( That’s very bold coming from you. Everyone doesn’t pick up random vials that they don’t know what they contain)

[starflungwaddledee]

Oooo starstruck dee has little stars at the bottom of her feet! Are they just aesthetic or would they make imprints into the ground? (like pawprints)

exactly like that! though she's not the only one...

edit: might need to add some additional dialogue to this to make it more clear, but a clarification in the interim; he knows about his own footprints. he's just surprised to see something similar already there when he knows he's only just landed. he lifts his own shoe to confirm that they're not identical (and also to reveal this to the viewer). seems his stoicism beat off the clarity in this one, sorry 😭

[nitw]

i think my favorite part of the spto opening is when everyone's hanging out in a restaurant and having a good time but then scott enters and IMMEDIATELY,

yeah

[happyendingsong]

[super-paper]

afotaro is the elephant's foot of toxic old man yaoi but that's not gonna stop me from memeing on it, y'know, as a coping mechanism.

[drdimm]

who care 💥

[jemmo]

i cant even begin to explain how interesting i found this ep, but i think it all centres on night saying that day was a crybaby as a child, and yet in this ep he’s the one we see cry the least. and while i dont want to diminish how insanely difficult it is for day to lose his sight completely, i mean, we all saw the end of last weeks ep, i find it so interesting that it was the other people in his family that struggled with it the most, in their own ways. it makes me think about how for day, this is something he’s known is coming, and it’s only he who knows how his sight is deteriorating, so it’s not a shock, and while it’s upsetting for mohk, day confides in him enough that he knew it was coming to, and they had that cathartic moment together. but for his mom and for night, they didn’t see it coming, which is why it’s completely understandable that she panics. it might not seem like panic on the surface bc she’s a very put together woman, but the need to protect day and keep him away from any possible harm and do it herself, it tells us that she’s panicking, both bc this change they thought they could beat by getting a transplant before it got this bad, but also bc it brings to the surface that for all this time, the last months of day having some sight, she’s been absent and swamped with work and hasn’t been there with day, taking care of him, doing things with him, enriching that time, and the guilt makes her double down, at the expense of day. and it’s nothing anyone but herself can deal with, address that feeling and know that maybe she could’ve done different, done better, but ultimately that time has passed and change can only be made now, in the present.

and for night, wow. i wanna commend mark so much bc for me, he managed to capture that sense of a child in an adults body so well, bc this ep was about him healing that child inside of him that felt second best and not cared for like his brother was. and it says a lot that he cried more when his mother made his favourite dish after so many years than he did when day forgave him, bc for the whole show we think that the heaviness he is carrying is the guilt of the accident, but it’s only in the past few eps we really know what the root of it all is. and that’s not to say that day forgives him lightly, he absolutely doesn’t, it says more about how he actually has been keeping count of all that night has been doing to make it up to him, from taking him to go with mohk on the trip to bringing him a phone, night has constantly been trying to show that he does care, and none of it feels insincere, like just trying to get rid of a guilty conscience, he actually wants to be the big brother he wasn’t before. and when he cries at his favourite meal, it feels cathartic not just for all the obvious reasons of feeling loved and included, but for night that’s been doing all this stuff to show day he cares, finally someone is doing that for him, and it’s like he finally knows what that feels like on both sides, for someone to care enough to do something like that for you, and to receive that act of love. finally, it feels like all that care he was showing other people is being returned to him, and it’s not out of courtesy, it’s bc they care for him just as much as he cares for them.

[toctheyounger]

[alphaketoglutaricacid]

when izutsumi perked up when she thought maizuru was going to ask her to help make food w the others… shes a character with so little insight on what she feels and why. After everything thats been done to her, she still held onto hope huh… :(

[rexwrendraws]

i have so much art i want to do for this fic but time keeps escaping me so. some old sketches (from oct 2022) for the first dreamling fic i ever read, back last august. literally blew my tiny mind i love it so much and reread it very often. i always pictured hob in that fic as a combination of comic hob and tv hob :)

We have all the time in the world (on Ao3) by @anthrossandman !!

[hella1975]

there's a very specific kind of vibe that comes with living with your friends in final year that it just does not have in first year or even second year. like as a fresher it's usually the first time any of you have lived away from home let alone with SO MANY people your age and it's terrifying and exciting and randomised to boot so it's generally carnage for a whole year in the best and worst ways, and then second year you pick who you're living with and it feels like for the first time you're doing this adult thing PROPERLY. you have a place of your own now. these are the people you've chosen to live with. studying gets serious etc. but it's still fresh. it's still new. you still don't know how to navigate it. but final year? final year is when you actually get it right. you know how to manage your time better. you know what works for you and what doesn't. studying is the main focus and you've been out in the world for three years now and it's not loud and boisterous like it was in first year and you're not exciteable and awkward like you were in second year. you're comfortable. every single one of my flatmates has their own friend group and we mainly keep to our own social circles, but we'll still meet each other back at the house after a night out and sit in the kitchen or my room to do the debrief. sometimes i'll go days not seeing either of them despite sharing a house but every now and then someone will softly call up the stairs that 'the heating's on!' or one of us will sneeze and the other two will yell 'bless you!' through the walls. the lack of interaction isn't interpreted as dislike in ways it would have been even last year, because we're all just old enough to be past that now and settled enough in our friendship not to worry about it. idk. uni is very loud and unsettling a lot of the time so it's been really sweet to see how almost boringly comfortable final year is.

[sskk-manifesto]

Ep 5!!!

[sunshiline-writes]

A Rose Amidst Thorns #7: Anger Arrives

Oh boy, this chapter is ROUGH. PLEASE HEED WARNINGS THAT I POST BC THIS IS A WILD ONE. -- Miguel finishes his punishment and Solomon stands up to Xavier after seeing what has been made of his ward. CW: Whumper POV, deaf whumpee, defiant whumpee, ableist language, suggestive comments and actions but nothing super sexual actually happens, broken bones, nailed to the wall, removing nails from hands, Xavier being a CREEP, sadistic whumper, intimate whumper, threats, fingerfucking a hand hole (I am so sorry), whumpee is referred to as a kid but is an adult, dissassociation, blink and you miss it mention of disordered eating, Xavier doesn't know how to keep his hands to himself, uhhhh I think that's it.. but like... let me know if I missed anything -- Previous | Masterlist | Next

Xavier was not one to stay angry for very long. He released his anger once and it was done. This time however, he’d been holding onto the anger for a long time. Three years against Miguel, against Henrietta. It festered and bubbled and destroyed him. Now he would destroy them from the bottom of their souls, break them up, and then put them back together again. Xavier loved putting people back together. Molding them, shaping them. Humans were so malleable once they were broken down to their core functions. 

Lately it seemed though, that Miguel was constantly needing to be broken down, shapened, and broken down again. Miguel was someone who took a little more finesse than what he was used to. Perhaps it was because he started young. Or perhaps it was because Miguel was just that stubborn. Whatever the case, it made Xavier’s blood boil. 

When he made his way back into the barn, the anger was still there. Xavier walked directly up to the boy and sighed, taking in the sight. Blood ran down his arms, dripping from his elbows. His white undershirt was soaked in blood and covered in dirt. Every muscle in his body was wound tightly. He was still on the tips of his toes, trying not to hang from the nails in his hands, his calves shaking. Sweat dripped down the sides of his face. It was his hands though, they looked the worst. His right one, the one he had broken, was swollen, purple and misshapen. It was so swollen he almost couldn’t see where the nail had been embedded in the middle of his hand. Xavier smiled to himself, admitting that he admired his handiwork. Miguel’s head rested on the harsh wood, the bridle still in his mouth, teeth clenched down on it. A good distraction, Xavier assumed, from the pain of everywhere else. 

Slowly, he ran a hand over the bit, halfway in his mouth, pressing a finger against his tongue, this caused Miguel to open his eyes, breathing hitching. His eyes were cloudy with pain. Xavier pressed down harder on Miguel's tongue, just to see him squirm before retreating his hand. Miguel dipped his head low, staring at his boots.  

Xavier watched him. An old memory of when he first met the boy flashed in his mind. Scared and hiding behind his father, having to be dragged away kicking and screaming from his family. It didn’t matter. Fighting never got him anywhere. Another memory of the boy holding the gun, pointed straight at him. Xavier wasn’t afraid then, but the anger flashed hot in his stomach now. The kid had always been a pain. 

Reaching out, Xavier wrapped a hand around Miguel's throat, forcing Miguel's head up, grinning from ear to ear. The boy looked up at him. He was met not with pain or even a blank expression like Xavier had originally suspected. Instead he was met with an icy glare. A smile tugged at the corner of Xavier’s lips. 

“Do you hate me Miguel?” he asked, enunciating, speaking slowly so he could read. 

Miguel’s glare faded and he gritted his teeth on the metal bit in his mouth, the sound vibrating through the boy's throat and Xavier laughed. Pressing his head against Miguels forehead. The boy winced as he pressed his head farther into the wall behind him trying to get away. But he couldn’t get away. There was nowhere to go. His family was gone and no one wanted a defective person working for them. Xavier didn’t want him at first. But after the first time that the boy pointed a gun at him, Xavier knew that breaking him would be a fight well earned. It had been fun and interesting to see what broke the boy down, slowly, bit by bit. Sometimes it was successful, other times less so. 

This was one of those times that it was a strange mix of the two. Xavier gave Miguels throat a little squeeze. “I asked a question..” he said, stepping back slightly. 

Miguel nodded his head slightly, movement restricted by the bridle. 

“Oh Miguel.. You don’t have to lie. I saw the way you looked at me. You don’t hate me, you fear me.” Miguel’s eyes were wide, tears starting to stream down his face. “I like you like this. Afraid, in pain, you’re so much less of a problem like this,” a choked sob came from the boy beneath him. Miguel shook his head and closed his eyes. Xavier could hear the way Miguel’s teeth grinded against the metal in his mouth. His grin widened. It was like hearing a real horse chew on the bit. The thought amused him. 

Xavier squeezed again, a choking sound came from the boy but he still didn’t open his eyes. Stubborn mule. His hand retreated from his throat and instead went to his back pocket where the bandana hung loosely. He took it out. It was annoying how much he fought him. Fought what was about to happen, as if he could stop it. Well, if he wasn’t going to open his eyes to listen to him, he didn’t need them right now anyway. Xavier had thought about it before, permanently blinding Miguel, but always decided against it. There was no use in keeping around a blind and deaf person, not unless they wanted what was an equivalent to a corpse stumbling around. The blindfold usually did the job anyway. 

Instead his palm connected with Miguel’s face, the slap loud but not nearly enough to make a lasting mark. However, it was enough for Miguel to open his eyes with a groan as he slipped and hung by the nails in his hands for a second. Another whimper escaped him and Xavier grinned. 

“If you won’t look at me, if you won’t listen, I think you deserve the blindfold,” he stated simply. Dangling the blindfold in front of Miguels face, who was now breathing more heavily than before and shaking harder. He could almost see how he normally responded, the index and middle finger pressing onto the thumb. The simple ‘no’ sign. It was the first sign he ever learned. The first word he saw Miguel speak to his parents. “Shhhh,” he cooed, starting to wrap the black bandana around his eyes, tighter than he assumed was comfortable, and tied it around the back of his head, the knot tangling in his hair. It wasn’t about his comfort anyway, he ignored the way his stomach dropped at the way Miguel whimpered and shifted his stance slightly. Scared and unable to  guage his surroundings. It was his favorite punishment for Miguel at times. It happened less often now. But he always loved the way his body tensed and he strained to understand what was happening to him. The stress of not knowing what was happening, it was exhausting to Miguel. Made his light go out faster. It was why it was a favorite of Xaviers. It was also the fact that Miguel just looked so good blindfolded and shaking like this. He trailed his fingers up Miguels Adams apple, pressing into the soft flesh under his jaw. Xavier dragged his fingers up to the side of his jaw and traced the outline of it. Cupping the boy's cheek, he kissed his forehead again. Sighing softly. “I’ll take you down now. Just a few more things..” he whispered, he knew that the boy could not hear him, couldn’t even tell that he was talking, but sometimes talking outloud helped with the thought process. Xavier left for a moment to grab the hammer. He thought for a moment about hitting his broken hand again with it, but at the look of it, it did not need to be more broken. It would be hard enough dealing with it the way it was. 

It was hard to find where the nail had gone in, the hand was so swollen. But he found the area quickly and with an amount of gentleness that surprised himself, he used the claw of the hammer to pry the nail out. Miguel screamed as the nail left his hand and it was left dangling by the cuff Xavier had put on earlier. The boy groaned and shuddered lightly as he used the claw to pull the nail from his other hand. Then he let the boy hang from the cuffs. 

Miguel was sobbing, barely holding himself up, head bowed. Xavier stared at him, just watching for a moment. How sad it was, that the boy had been reduced to this sobbing, whimpering thing. When he had first arrived at the ranch, he was all fire and all bite. Now he was a good little dog, hanging by broken hands. He took the boy down from the nails on the wall, positioning him on the floor. 

“Good, good, you’re so good for me Miguel,” he cooed gently, running a hand in his hair as the man beneath him withered on the ground. He took a deep breath and pressed his forehead against Miguels, kissing the tip of his nose. Pulling back, smiling at the thing below him. That is, until he was hit with a sudden wetness on his cheek. Did he just.. spit on him? 

“What the fuck?” He wiped the wetness off his cheek, looking down at the smiling expression on Miguel. “You never learn do you? Never. Fucking. Learn.” Every word was punctuated by Xavier forcing his hands above his head, straddling him, and then panting. “I give you clothes, shelter, a job. I make you fucking useful, and you still never learn. You’ll never learn. I should really just kill you. It would be a load off my mind. But..” one of his hands that held onto Miguels wrists, let it go, his other hand still held firm. With his free hand, he pressed a finger into the hole in the hand that wasn’t broken. The one that he could still hurt. “Does this hurt Miguel?” Miguel opened his mouth and the bit was pressed further into his mouth, making him choke. Xavier pressed his finger deeper in and finally, he heard what he wanted to hear as Miguel screamed again, choking on air. Coughing and sputtering on his own spit. Xavier pressed harder into the wound, slick with blood, now he was so deep into his hand that he couldn’t see his first knuckle. Still he pressed harder and further, until he could feel the dirt on the other side of his hand and he stopped when his second knuckle disappeared into the wound. He marveled that Miguel was even still awake. But he was kicking and screaming under him. Miguels knee slammed into Xavier’s back slightly and that only made Xavier angrier. His finger curled into the wound and he pulled slightly, feeling bone and tendons shift. There was a certain giddiness that he felt over it. Miguels hand clenched and he turned his face, screaming again. 

The boy would not stop screaming. That didn’t bother Xavier, not really, it was what he wanted. There was a point after Xavier pulled his finger back and then pushed back in that Miguel stopped screaming. Instead opting to groan and sob quietly. Yes.. yes he was getting it now. The silence that Xavier often asked for. He was so close to being good again for him. He pulled his finger out so only the tip of it rested against the wound, then plunged it back in, curling it again. 

“This is different from what I usually do. I think the difference is welcome though,” he said with a laugh. Then he continued to finger the wound, still not satisfied as the boy eventually stopped groaning and the only sound that came from him were quiet whimpers. Too weak to even try to fight back. Even Xavier was panting by the time he even thought about retracting his finger. He curled and pulled at the wound, widening the hole slightly, one last time before he looked up. 

“What are you.. doing?” Solomon asked, voice tense, expression hard. 

“Having a little fun,” Xavier responded cooly, despite the cold shiver that went down his spine. The anger that radiated off Solomon could be felt throughout the barn. It was thick in the air. 

“You’re done now,” Solomon said, it was not a request. He was telling him that he was done.

“I am now?” 

“Yes, you are. Uncuff him, take that bridle off and get your damn finger out of his wound. You’re going to cause an infection.” 

Xavier sat there for a moment longer before licking his lips. He did follow the orders from Solomon though, retracting the finger and uncuffing the boy. Then he removed the blindfold and the horse bit. The boy was panting under him, eyes closed still and face stained with tears. Xavier gently stroked his face, tapping his eyelid gently. 

When Miguel opened his eyes, his expression was different. Good that was exactly what he wanted. His eyes were full of pain and of fear. “Good. You did good,” and when Xavier kissed his forehead one more time, Miguel did not flinch. Then he stood up, using the bandana that was damp with tears to wipe the blood from his hands. “All yours Solomon,” he said to the man with a smirk. 

*** Solomon was not an angry man. Not usually. But at the moment, it wouldn’t take much for him to snap Xavier’s neck in two. Especially after that smirk. It was the smirk that made him see red. He clenched his fists, clenched his teeth and waited for Xavier to pass him and leave the barn before he rushed to Miguel.

Gently he picked up the boys torso and held the limp body close. “You’re okay Miguel. You’re okay. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” he whispered softly, taking the boy's hands, covered in blood and grime. He looked them over. Purple, red, swollen. It was awful. He’d seen worse, but his right hand was something that he could never repair wholly. There was a chance that Miguel would lose all feeling in that hand alone. His left hand had a hole through it that would have  “Oh god,” he whispered. Solomon shook his head and gently looked at the boy's face, he seemed to be staring far away. Not even registering Solomon's appearance, or the fact that Xavier had left.

“Miguel, look at me. You have to look at me,” he said to him, gently cupping his cheek and moving his face so that he looked at him. If Solomon didn’t know better, he would have guessed that the boy was dead. But he was still breathing. He blinked at him slowly and tears came to his eyes again. “There you are. You’re safe. You’re safe..” 

Then Miguel was sobbing, curling into Solomon's chest, hands unmoving. He buried his face into Solomon's shirt, in the space between his shoulder and chest. “Shhh.. Shhh,” he begged quietly, one hand holding Miguel's head for support. Miguel pulled his face away, eyes glazed with pain. Hands twitching. “No no… don’t try to move them. I have to carry you now okay?” Solomon told him, the hand on the back of his head slid to his back, and his other arm cradling Miguel's knees. Then he lifted, staggering to his feet. 

Miguel was surprisingly light and Solomon made a mental note that after he gave the morphine, he’d make Miguel eat something. Miguel cried out when his hands shifted onto his stomach, curling tighter. “I know, I know. I’m sorry.” As he walked to the house, Solomon thought of Henrietta. He wanted to blame her. It would be so easy too. But blame never did anyone any good. The only blame that was deserved was Xaviers. He was the one that hurt them, he was the one that threatened them all into compliance, hurt them when they didn’t abide. It was all his fault. Every single piece of this was his fault. Solomon glanced down at Miguel who’s eyes were closed, his body was trembling. 

Miguel was going to need a splint, antibiotics, pain control.. There was so much that Miguel needed right now. Solomon couldn’t possibly do everything all at once. Or maybe he could. If he could get the morphine at just the right dose to let him fall asleep… Yes that was what he would start with. The morphine. 

Solomon walked up the steps of the house, walking through the open door. Then he immediately took Miguel to his room. Solomon’s room was small, only a bed, dresser and bed stand was in it. He never saw a reason to add anything else. He laid Miguel into the bed, letting Miguel curl in on himself for the moment. While Miguel made himself comfortable, Solomon grabbed his medical bag under the bed. Shuffling through it for a moment, he grabbed the morphine bottle and the needle he needed. He filled it to what he thought was sufficient enough, and he didn’t tell Miguel when he injected the needle into his shoulder. He just did so, stroking his hair until Miguel's breathing evened out and he stopped trembling. 

“Will he be okay?” came the voice from the doorway as Solomon manuevered Miguel to lay on his back as gently as possible.

“Leave,” Solomon said, gently taking Miguel’s hands in his. “Now.” 

“You’re in a mood right now so I'll let that go..” Xavier said, leaning against the doorway. “It was a simple question.” “No. He is not okay. You took his hands,” Solomon said, trying to keep the anger out of his voice. From Xavier’s smirk, he wasn’t doing a very good job at that. 

“So?” 

“So, he can’t..” Solomon almost said communicate but that wouldn’t prove anything to Xavier. In fact, Xavier would probably laugh at that. Solomon could hear the snarky comment about how Miguel didn’t talk anyway. He didn’t need to communicate to work. All things he’d said before. So instead he tried a different route, “he can’t work. You destroyed his hands and he can’t work for the foreseeable future. He can’t grab the saddles or the leads for the horses. Let alone carry things with these hands for months at the very least.” As he spoke, Solomon cleaned out the wounds, disinfecting them with care so he didn’t cause so much pain as to wake the sleeping figure on the bed. “You put him out of commission as your saddle boy,” Solomon finished. Glancing up at Xavier. Xavier seemed to be contemplating his words for a moment, expression pensive, before it warped into a grin. “He has other uses.” 

“No,” came the automatic reply. 

Xavier let out a snort. “Get your mind out of the mud Solomon. I was going to suggest simple house work.” 

“You’re disgusting,” Solomon said, returning his attention to Miguel’s hand as he set up the splint. Every touch of the boy's right hand made Miguel whimper and groan in his sleep. Pain shot through Solomon's chest and he shoved it down. He could deal with that later. He could try and understand this later. For now he had to focus on the here and now. Like right now, there was a new tension in the room. Xavier pushed himself from leaning against the doorframe. “Watch your words Solomon. I never had to hurt you before, don’t give me a reason to do so now. I know plenty of ways to hurt you without rendering you unable to do your job.” 

Solomon finished the splint, gently placing Miguel’s hand down on the bed. Then he stood from his chair and stood up looking Xavier in the eye. “Here is what is going to happen. I don’t want you or Jesse touching him until I say. He needs to heal and if you or Jesse slow down that progress I will do unspeakable things. I am a doctor but I will not hesitate to use my knowledge to cause pain, instead of relieving it,” he watched Xaviers blank expression shift slightly, “do you understand me Xavier?” 

The silence felt like it was eating him inside, but he did not falter before Xavier smiled again. “Ah, so you didn’t lose that backbone I admired so much back in the day.” 

“Do you understand me Xavier?” 

Xavier waved his hand in a dismissive fashion and glanced back at Miguel on the bed. “Yeah yeah. I understand you. No touching until he’s all healed up right?” 

“Correct.”

“Understood doctor.” Xavier said with a chuckle, “he’ll have to make up for all the work he missed later. But it’ll never get this bad again. He took the punishment well and I’m sure you and Etta will make up for it too, yes?”

Solomon thought for a moment before nodding. “Yes. We can do that.”

“Good, good. Very good Solomon. I’ll let you continue your work then,” Xavier grabbed one of Solomon's braids and gave it a playful tug. It made Solomon's skin crawl. Like he had just touched a part of his soul. Which he technically did, but.. Solomon tried hard not to think about it. Xavier grinned, letting go of his hair, turning around and leaving. 

Solomon collapsed into the chair next to the bed. 

“I’m so sorry Miguel. I’ll get you out of here soon. I promise,” he said to the sleeping figure, rubbing a thumb along Miguel's forearm. 

This time, this time he meant it. 

This would be a promise that he was going to keep. Even if it killed him. Even if he had to sacrifice everything. Miguel and Henrietta deserved better than this. They deserved freedom. Solomon was going to do everything in his power to get them there. He just had to be patient and not let the anger in. 

But the anger was already here. No, he just had to control it now. 

He could do that. 

Solomon had to do that. 

For them. __

Taglist:

@demondamage @burntcoffeewhump @for-the-love-of-angst @just-a-silly-little-whumper @tictac-murder-spaghettii @crash-bump-bring-the-whump @whumpifi

@flowersarefreetherapy @badgerwhump

ask if you'd like to be added or removed!!

[cryptocism]

the idea of Three keeping Four's corpse and even more than that, the thought of his reaction of Four's death in the first place, hits different knowing their messed up relationship and that they still saw each other even after Four was Inertia

yeah omg chapter 11 went through so many changes from first draft to final, and portraying Three and Four was a big part of that.

because i'm trying to do all these mirrors and echos with these characters and their relationships, Three and Four has a lot of the same ingredients as Six and Seven, Eight and Nine, or even Three and Five. (which are ultimately all foils of Bart and Thad, the different ways that their relationship and attitudes towards each other could manifest given different circumstances and choices, while still being distinct enough to stay true to each of the clones' characters)

Three and Four have the worst most toxic version of that dynamic, and figuring out how to write it without getting WAY too dark and gritty but still make clear these guys are super fucked up went through many many rewrites and changes. i think i landed in a pretty alright place by the end, although because the chapter is ultimately from Six's perspective, a lot of Three's internal conflict and Four's feelings/motivations can't be as blatant as I might've made it if either of them were the ones with the reigns on the narrative. instead their motivations feelings and emotions have to be kind of deconstructed from actions and gleaned through context.

i have my own like, "intent" when writing the things that Three and Four do and the choices that they make, but because their perspectives aren't actually shown there's likely a lot of room for reader interpretation. which i love to see tbh

[finalgirlsamwinchester]

it's so funny...all these years spent avoiding spn because everything i learned via tumblr osmosis was annoying as hell. if someone'd pointed me towards sam's narrative *everything* i'd have been a sucker in a heartbeat

[lesbionicandiconic]

Thinking about pinning this girl down on my bed, leaning over her with my hair brushing her cheeks and whispering in her ear

“We both know you’re stronger than I am, I can’t pin you down. So, what you’re going to do is obey. Do you understand?”

Watching her eyes glaze over as I fit my hand around her neck. She looks so pretty when she bottoms for me, her hips bucking as I drag my long nails across her inner thigh and over her clit. Teasing her. When she tries to reach for me I tsk at her and give her neck a little squeeze.

“What did I say about obeying, baby? Are you too turned on to be able to remember simple commands? You keep your hands to yourself or I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

She’ll whisper an apology and grab my bedsheets, fisted tightly as I slide my fingers through her wetness. Soon enough I’ll be two fingers deep with her hips lifting off the bed, carefully hitting that spot inside that makes her whine so nicely for me. Anyone who says you can’t fuck with long nails never slept with a femme like me.

Right before she cums I’ll push my fingers into her mouth instead of keeping them around her neck, feeling the wet warmth of her from both sides, clenching and sucking on my hands.

After, I’ll taste her on my fingertips and kiss her deeply, rubbing my fingers through her hair and placing her hands on my body to run dazed lines along my spine.

“You did so good for me baby” I’ll purr in her ear, “See what happens when you listen?”