#absolutely typical My Brain behavior

[cherubfae]

jealous slashers~!✧

With Michael, Brahms, Jason, Billy Loomis, Stu Macher, Vincent Sinclair, Bo Sinclair, Lester Sinclair, Thomas Sawyer, Sal Fisher, & Patrick Bateman

tags: gn!reader, jealousy, creepy men, unwanted attention/touching, uggestive and mature themes, gore/blood, violence, canon typical behavior, billy x reader x stu poly, rob zombie!mikey, I know Sal isn't exactly a slasher but he's my baby and needs to be included

Alexa, play Love to Die by the Slashstreet Boys

Michael

Rest in Peace to the poor, stupid man who thought it'd be a good idea to mess with the Shape's partner, and Michael had witnessed it all. How this man shoves you into an empty alleyway, the clatter of your groceries falling. The guy doesn't get much more than a few bruises and claw marks when Michael's knife slices through the back of the man's throat, protruding from the other end in a splash of blood. The Shape watches you wipe your bloody face off, not doing much but picking up three of your four fallen bags and tugging you into his side.

Brahms

Absolutely not. Brahms is fuckin' seething from his safe space sheltered behind the walls. Heavy breathing muffled by the porcelain mask, he watches with wild eyes as some idiot decides to break into the mansion whilst you were sleeping, and proceeds to hold you at knifepoint, effectively pinning you to the bed in what little nightclothes you wore. The unwanted guest and you are certainly going to know when Brahms is upset. There's banging on the walls coming from every direction that leaves the would-be burglar panicked and you slightly more comfortable.

"You're not allowed to be here," comes the eerily childlike voice Brahms has perfected. He crawls his way out from behind the large antique mirror. "I'll make sure you never come near them again." With a sudden slam, Brahms downs the intruder with a lead pipe repeatedly bashing the object until all that remains was brain matter and gooey blood. He drops the pipe with a huff and collects you into his arms, the cool porcelain biting onto the heat of your chest.

Jason

As the protector of the surrounding forest, Jason is always watching. He's omnipotent, he sees all. He seems to know where people are at all times and he can sense when you're in distress. Your shared cabin door left ajar sends his blood boiling and his heavy footfall increasing as he approaches your home. Barging in, Jason's pale eyes lock onto you and your assailant holding you by the throat. His thunderous steps are quick, slicing through the man with his machete and proceeds to lift him up while still pierced with the blade. The man gurgles, arms weakly reaching behind him in attempts to claw at Jason. All attempts were futile. He tossed the body to the side before he gently frets over you, his large hands soothing the fingerprints tarnishing your throat.

Billy & Stu

Rather snake-like the two will wrap themselves around you (they adore your personal space) and stare down whoever else demands your attention. Billy's arm hooks around your waist and Stu wraps himself around your shoulder, tilting your chin up with a single finger. "Is this guy bothering you, baby?" Looking like a shark that's tasted blood in the water, Billy's eyes grow more wild. He's already making a mental note of who and where this guy lives. The guy raised his hands in defense backing down the more the two stared at him, walking off completely.

"We're gonna take care of him, doll," Billy promises, kissing your cheek. Stu cackles lightly, tongue sticking out. They would strike tonight.

Vincent

There's no one Vincent trusts more to watch over you when he can't than his own two brothers. He had his hands full, turning Dalton and Wade into wax people. Nick and Carly were proving to be hard to get a hold of and there was still another tourist that needed to be taken care of.

But then Bo is telling him that the person escaped and he doesn't know where you were. His two worst fears confirmed. Vincent is soon on a wild hunt, trying to find you anywhere with Bo hot on his heels. He soon locates you, passed out with a bit of blood on your head. Your eyes slowly open as he touches your cheek, catching you as you wobble into his warm embrace. He shares a look with Bo who nods.

"I've got you, brother. Keep them here with ya. Wait til I'm back, ya hear?"

Bo

Out in public, he's all cordial and kind smiles. Especially if this is an intended victim. Some random person putting the moves on his partner is a huge no-no and one Bo doesn't take lightly. That person just warranted themselves a for sure death sentence and Bo isn't feeling too kind, so perhaps he'll drag things out, yeah? Touch what's his and you got what's comin' to ya.

"Can I see, baby? That bastard leave any marks on ya?" Bo strokes your shoulders, blue eyes drifting over your frame like water. He has every intention of marking every place that person touched, no matter if you tell Bo the guy only grabbed your arm. Once he has his mind set on something, he's gonna do it.

Lester

Unlike his older twin brothers, Lester is actually pretty chill. Especially in comparison to Bo. He doesn't think much of the people he's helping get into Ambrose knowing full well it's their final destination and Vincent and Bo will take care of things as they always have. What he doesn't like is some dude making a pass at you right in front of him. Can't he see the engagement ring on your finger? It leaves a sour taste in his mouth, watching with narrowed eyes as the small group heads towards the mechanic shop in search of a fan belt.

A familiar hand on his arm calms him down instantly. He turns to you and musters a weak smile as your hands slide around his torso from behind, leaning your cheek on his shoulder. "Y'alright?" Lester nods too quickly and unconvincingly, giving you a quick kiss. "Yeah, darl', always."

Thomas

Your partner is not unlike a bear, watching with wild eyes as one of Hoyt's new catches clasps onto you, their nails digging into your arms, and pinning you to the barbed fence. The cry of pain you let out has Tommy barreling towards you, chainsaw revving to life. A deep snarl echoes behind his mask and he wastes no time cutting down the poor soul with a single swipe of his motorized saw. Tommy turns it off and picks you up in his large arms as gently as he can. With his masked cheek leaning against yours, he carries you back towards the house. Mama Luda Mae will take a good look at you.

Sal Fisher

Honestly Sal isn't one to get jealous. He's pretty level-headed and understanding in most situations. He respects your choices and he's not gonna step on any toes or do anything drastic; Sal isn't a monster. However, if he sees some guy make a creepy pass at you and clearly overstep your boundaries, he won't hesitate to swoop in, looping his arm around your shoulders. His sharp blue eyes staring at the man from behind his prosthetic mask.

"Do we have a problem here?" His voice is cold, lacking any interest in what excuse the man finds. Sal's main focus will be on you, rubbing gentle, soothing circles into your skin. His main priority is to get you away from this sicko and would totally call in reinforcements from his brother Larry if need be.

Patrick

A jealous Patrick Bateman isn't a good scenario for anyone. Especially not with his deteriorating mental state. He trusts you explicitly, with his thoughts, ideas, and recreational hobbies that most would find distasteful. So when a colleague of his gets too big for his britches and unabashedly begins to flirt with you in his presence, Patrick finds it difficult to keep his boiling bloodlust at bay. The heat of his anger is getting to his head, the fierce emotions only swelling well it's clear how uncomfortable you look in that man's company. He must see to put an end to him quickly.

|| I DON'T GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE REPOSTED, RESHARED, OR EDITED. TUMBLR IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT AND THE ONLY PLACE WHERE I POST MY WRITING. ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS, THE STORY BELONGS TO ME. || CHERUBFAE © 2024

"Are you alright, my darling? That man surely didn't know his place, did he?" Patrick places a hand at your back, guiding you out of the office party. "Let's get you home and into a nice hot bath, hmm? I'd rather not taste that swine on your lovely skin."

[kittykatinabag]

You ever find yourself absolutely unhinged at 2:30am eating small portions of rotisserie chicken with the lemon nandos hot sauce and kewpie mayo mixed together followed by literal spoonfuls of blackberry jam?

[violetbeauregut]

In Defense of Feedism

I was absolutely struck when I read  @fatliberation‘s beautiful, vulnerable post the other day. They always have brilliant ideas and they show unfailing grace and kindness to everyone, despite a ton of rude, ill-informed backlash (I would 100% recommend following them). 

I can’t stop thinking about the reactions to that post and how incredibly strange it is to have to tiptoe around feedism (to use an umbrella term) in a movement that is supposed to be centered around ending the oppression of fat people. 

I can understand why fat people who are not feedists would be weary or even repulsed by this kink. From the outside it may seem degrading and manipulative that the language and insults used against fat people are replicated in the bedroom. It is also harmful to be fetishized when you do not want to be fetishized, both in real life and online. 

But these are the only points I’ve heard against feedism that I consider to be a legitimate argument in the discourse of fat liberation, as these are the only claims against feedism I’ve come across that are not based in fatphobia. If you are in favor of fat liberation, then you must see fatness as morally neutral. Therefore, the choice to gain weight is not inherently “good” or “bad,” it is instead a matter of autonomy– a right that should be granted to everyone, regardless of size. 

The major issue with feedism is the same issue that permeates all kink and, by extension, all sexuality: consent. There are feedists, particularly feeders, who fetishize all fat people, regardless of their wishes; feedists who try to force fat people to participate in kink with or without their knowledge or permission. This is abhorrent behavior; there are no excuses for it. But the problem here is a violation of consent and not the kink itself. The unethical practice of kink does not make the kink unethical. And while feedees are often disregarded in discussions of feedism and fat liberation (which I have already talked about in depth here), there are most assuredly fat feedees, like myself, who are fully consenting to fat fetish play. 

While I can only speak for myself, I know that I am not the only person who developed this kink because of weight-related trauma. When you grow up fat, when you are forced to go to Weight Watchers at seven years old, your brain comes to associate fat as taboo and taboo as sexy–but it goes beyond an attraction to something risky or frowned upon. 

I live my life as a fat woman; I am fat at the doctor’s office and fat in tiny airplane seats and I am especially fat as a feedee. No matter if I’m engaging with my kink or not, I am fat and I don’t get to stop being fat outside of my bedroom. Out of all of the scenarios where I am existing in my fat body, engaging in kink play is the only one where I am experiencing pleasure because of my body, not despite it. It’s arousing to be praised for the thing that once made you hate yourself. It’s arousing to engage with something you fear or that has harmed you in a safe, controlled context where you have all the power to make it stop. 

What anti-feedist fat liberationists need to understand is that feedism is, at its core, a resistance to fatphobia. When you see things that are typically fatphobic in feedist play– terms like “pig,” “cow,” “tubby,” etc. and comments about being “out of shape” or “ruined” by fat– it is not a replication of weight stigma, but a subversion of it. Feedism takes the harmful stereotypes of fatness and robs them of their power by putting them in a new context; a context where fatness is so desirable that feedists want more of it. By using the language and misconceptions of fatness to give and receive pleasure instead of to oppress, feedism not only creates a safe space to heal from fatphobic trauma, but it empowers fatness– it empowers fat people, which is supposed to be the goal of fat liberation.

[moonstruckme]

Hi 💜

I sent a request a while ago about Spencer x reader academic stress. It was absolutely perfect. Thank you so much 💗

I just read the james one about reader skipping meals (it was so sweet and lovely) and I tend to do that myself sometimes not eating anything between dinner one day to the next simply because i got busy with classes and forgot until i get a migrane or get a bit dizzy. So, I was wondering if you could do a similar prompt with Spencer and reader being busy all day with work or classes or whatever and simply forgetting to eat until a migrane / dizzy spell occurs and he finds out.

I just feel like he'd be so kind and give facts about importance of not skipping meals for brain function, while coddling, feeding and spoiling reader, maybe cooking or handfeeding too I don't know whatever works for you. Thank you 💕🌸

Sorry if i wrote too much😅

Thank you for requesting lovely (and no sorries necessary) <3

cw: mention of skipping meals, dizziness/nausea

Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 1.2k words

Spencer finds you sitting down in the stairwell. You recognize him by the sound of his footsteps, lighter than Morgan’s but less clicky than JJ’s heels. Neither of you typically use the stairs, so you can only imagine that he’s come looking for you. 

“Hi,” you say to let him know you’re alive inside the tiny cavern you’ve made of your own body. You’re bent over to rest your forehead on your knees, one hand on each of your temples as you breathe slowly to steady yourself. Overall, it’s a pretty dramatic pose. And you’re definitely getting the butt of your slacks dirty on these stairs. 

Spencer’s footsteps pass you, and for half a second you think he really is just using the stairs. He stops a few steps below you. You can feel him scrutinizing the top of your head. 

“Are you okay?” he asks in that soft, careful voice of his. “You just disappeared.” 

You had sort of fled the scene. You still feel too new to the team to feel fully comfortable, and with Strauss here for the case everyone is on their best behavior, so when you’d all been walking in the hallway and a dizzy spell had nearly collapsed you into the wall, you’d dropped back from the group and stepped into the first door you saw rather than risk bringing attention to yourself. 

“I’m fine,” you say through an exhale, lifting your head from your knees. “Sorry, I just got dizzy and didn’t want to cause problems.” 

Spencer’s eyebrows bunch. He lowers into a crouch in front of you, looking up into your face. “Dizzy—do you know what caused it? Is this something that happens often?” He bypasses your rudeness in abandoning the team immediately, and the questions come almost too fast for your addled brain to keep up with. You think you need protein. Or carbs, or something. 

“Yeah—I mean no, it doesn’t happen all the time,” you say. “I just forgot to eat lunch.” 

The notch between Spencer’s brows digs in and he brushes a piece of hair behind his ear. “What happened?” 

You shrug, embarrassed. “I packed a lunch so I wouldn’t have to take a break, and then I just forgot about it. I’ve been…” you glance up at Spencer, but his eyes are too safe and open to even contemplate deceiving. “I haven’t been keeping up with my work like I should. I didn’t want to take a break, and I didn’t even remember my lunch until now.” 

“It’s on your desk?” he asks. 

You blink. “My work?”

“Your lunch.” 

“Yeah,” you say. It comes out curved like a question. 

“Okay.” He straightens, lithe limbs extending until you’re craning your neck to look up at him. “Wait here.” 

You turn, starting to protest, but Spencer sets a pacifying hand on your head as he passes. Objections acknowledged, but ignored. Following him is out of the question; just pivoting sitting down had sent your head swimming again. 

The door bangs shut after him, and a minute later he returns with your sad paper bag and a bottle of gatorade. 

“I saw you have water in here,” he says, sitting back in his place a couple steps below you, “but I thought electrolytes might help more.” He twists the cap off and hands it to you. Rather than passing you your lunch bag, he sets it in his own lap to dig through the contents. “You want your sandwich first?” 

You lower the gatorade from your mouth, wiping self-consciously under your lower lip. “Yes, please,” you say, and Spencer hands it to you. You set the gatorade down beside you. “Do we keep these in the fridge?” 

“Morgan does.” You must look as horrified as you feel, because Spencer goes on quickly, “He won’t even notice it’s gone. He likes the blue ones the least anyway.” 

You nod hesitantly, raising the bottle to your lips for another sip. “I’ll get him a replacement in case.” 

His smile is understanding, and you’re reminded that before you, Spencer was the youngest on the team. You imagine he knows how it feels to be constantly wary of getting on someone’s bad side. 

“You really don’t have to,” he says anyway. 

You take a bite of your sandwich, shrugging. “Thanks a lot for this, but you don’t have to stay here with me. Won’t we get in some kind of trouble?” 

“I think we’ll be okay here for a little while,” Spencer says. “Actually, I don’t think most people on the team even know where this door goes. None of us ever use the stairs. And they might not have noticed we’re gone yet.” 

You give him a deadpan look. “They’ll notice you’re gone.” 

He shrugs. It’s not a denial. “I don’t mind waiting with you.” 

It means more to you than it reasonably should. “Thanks,” you say quietly, and take another bite of your sandwich as an excuse to look away. 

You haven’t even polished it off yet, and Spencer’s already dipping into your bag for more. He takes the cap of a container of grapes. 

“Here, have some of these.” He holds it out, and you shove the last bite of sandwich into your mouth to take it from him. “You probably need some vitamin C,” he muses. His eyes fall to the nearly full bottle at your side. “Don’t forget to drink.” 

You almost grin, covering your full mouth with a hand as you speak. “I can’t actually do all this at once.” 

“Oh, sorry.” He looks abashed. “Take your time.” You do, swallowing before lowering your hand to give him a small smile. It’s returned. “You know, skipping meals is actually pretty dangerous.” 

Your smile fades, but Spencer holds your gaze. His eyes are gentle. 

“I know you just forgot, but low blood sugar impedes brain function. We need to be able to think clearly and quickly to do our job. So, being nourished is really important to that.” 

You nod, chastised. He taps the container of grapes, and you pop one into your mouth. 

“Are you going to tell Hotch?” you ask him quietly. 

Spencer blinks, brows twitching together. “No,” he says. “It’s not really that big of a deal, and anyway I think Hotch would just tell you the same thing. I just think it’s important for you to know.” 

You rub your lips together, bobbing your head again. “Okay, thanks.” You look at him seriously, dropping your voice into a terrible imitation of Hotch’s deep timbre. “I won’t let it happen again.” 

Spencer grins, surprised by you, and you mirror him. You’re a bit surprised by yourself too. 

“Are you feeling any better?” he asks. 

You nod automatically, not taking even the barest inventory yourself to see whether that might be true, but Spencer can obviously tell. His brown eyes search yours, scientifically probing, like they might tell him something you won’t. You’re well aware that Spencer’s a certifiable genius, and yet you’re still learning not to underestimate him. 

“We can probably go back now,” you tell him. 

His stare holds yours a minute longer. You feel pleasurably crushed under the weight of his attention. 

After a few seconds, Spencer’s expression settles into decision. “Let’s sit here for a minute,” he says. “You should finish your food. You’re owed a lunch hour anyway, no one’s ever stipulated when or where you have to take it.” 

You crack a smile. “What about you?” 

“I’m staying with you,” he says matter-of-factly. Like it’s the only option even worth considering. “I don’t want to leave you here by yourself, and it’s probably best if I take the gatorade bottle back up with us. If Morgan sees, it’ll be easier for me to take credit if I’m holding it.”

[amourtoken]

So ultimately Sleep Token threesome pairings won the poll *however* I don't think yall would mind polytoken either so there's gonna be a bit of that strewn about through here

*nsfw below the cut, MDNI*

CW: threesomes, some aggressive behaviors, dom/sub dynamics, gross eepy men, breeding, raw sex (don't be like me), oral (both recieving), DP, light bondage, cum play, primal play if u squint, anal and general filth

to start off, here's my personal favorite three way pairings with them:

Vessel/iv

♡ this one is a LOT.

♡ they're both insanely possessive and touchy, dominant headspaces cloud their brain and all they can piece together is you're theirs and theirs only. Theirs to care for, spoil, fold in half and pump full of cum, just theirs.

♡ when these two are sharing you, you don't have to lift a finger. They're here to make you feel good! They get off on watching you get off.

♡ Vessel typically takes a leading position in every aspect of his life, this is no different. Although iv is very dominant himself, he'll follow the lead started by Ves and share his thoughts on occasion. Sometimes they have full conversations about what they'd like to do to you while you're inches away, and they just carry on as though you're not in the room.

♡ Vessel loves having you cuddled against him while iv plays with your body like he owns it. He'll hold you in his lap, praise you profusely and manipulate your body in whichever way would benefit iv the most. He's also not against restraining you while iv overstimulates you to hell and back, reprimanding you for squirming.

♡ iv adores this dynamic, sees it as a great opportunity to spend time with both his best friend and love of his life. A little unconventional I guess but it doesn't matter. When you're sat on Vessel's lap, legs hooked over his arms to give iv perfect access to your pussy? Nothing else matters.

♡ these two take their mf time. They'll touch every single square centimeter of you before getting to the actual sex. They want to unravel you, get you whining for friction and complaining impatiently so they can make you eat your words. You'll tolerate an hour of feather light teasing to be folded into a mating press and crying the next minute. Vessel is usually the first to give in cause he just can't help himself.

Vessel/iii

♡ I said the other was a lot, it's nothing compared to this ok

♡ Vessel takes the main dominant role here, maintaining control over both you and iii. He fucking thrivessss in this pairing.

♡ there's so many possibilities here but Ves can't help but enjoy watching his two subs put a show on for him. He'll sit back and instruct the two of you on what acts he'd like to see. It's almost a sort of foreplay to him even though it's actual play to you both in the moment.

♡ sometimes he's instructing you to suck iii's cock and will make you stick your tongue out to prove you swallowed all his cum, other times he's critiquing iii's movements while he's eating you out from your place on Vessel's lap. it's not very often he lets iii outright fuck you but sometimes if he really wants a show, it's like letting a rabid dog off a leash once he tells iii he's allowed. He'll almost tackle you to throw your legs over his shoulders and start a messy rhythm, groaning loudly cause you feel so good around his achingly hard cock.

♡ if Vessel isn't looking for theatrics, he's gonna play with both of you. His favorite thing in the world is having you both play with his cock at the same time. Whether it's both of you running your tongues up and down his length or one focusing on the tip while the other massages his balls he doesn't care he's just happy to recieve the attention. He's fucking gross, and really enjoys watching you and iii make out after he cums either in one of your mouths or all over both of your faces. He'll stare in admiration at you both.

♡ Vessel has absolutely made iii eat you out after he's filled you with his cum js

ii/iv

♡ tbh this might be the most lol

♡ this pairing makes you feel like you're being hunted for sport (and ultimately, they feel like you're a little prey animal)

♡ they'll stand over you, nearly stalking you like a literal predator. It makes your knees weak and your head spin. There's not as much chatter as there is between iv and Vessel here, it's mostly straight to the point. Due to this, it's a little less coordinated but much more primal and messy.

♡ ii is more insensitive in this group since iv makes up for it.

♡ there have been many occasions where you're laying on top of iv, with ii above you, and both are teasing the head of their cock against your pussy and seeing who's gonna fit inside you first. With great effort, they both will. Sometimes one will take your ass and one will focus on your pussy but they can't help but enjoy a challenge on occasion. ii is so fucking thick it's definitely just that.

♡ sex toys lol these two loveee playing with you like a literal doll, just tolerating everything they put you through. Iv will have your hands tied behind your back and a vibrator held against your clit while ii is working a set of anal beads in and out of you. You're drooling and whining and they're just watching your brain melt above you.

Polytoken!:

♡ hope you're ready to be the most exhausted you've ever been lol

♡ typically, there's an almost pre arranged order of positions here. Vessel gets to choose first, it's not like they necessarily had a conversation about it but everyone happily falls in line behind him.

♡ by this I mean Ves is gonna fill you up first. The others can figure it out from there.

♡ while Vessel is fucking you, your head is leaned off the edge of the bed, perfect for iv to fill your throat. Vessel loves reaching up and resting his hand against your throat so he can feel iv stretching you out.

♡ while they're going at it, ii and iii are enjoying your hands. It's a little uncoordinated but feels nice regardless. If there's room, iii is for sure teasing your nipples and leaving dark ass hickeys anywhere he can reach. ii would for sure reach between you and Ves to play with your clit, making you twitch and whine pathetically.

♡ ii might also try and join iv, the two of them taking short turns fucking your throat or both of them rubbing the tips of their cocks against your tongue, making a huge sticky mess of your pretty face.

♡ they'll trade off positions until you're so spent you literally can't hold your head up, which is fine, they can do it for you. You're in for a long ass night either way but they're gonna take care of you <3

[reaper-chan666]

Since the poll said longer posts with multiple types of Hybrid! Readers interacting with Taskforce 141, I'll start slow, and gain speed as I go. I'll start with Lioness! Reader, Bat! Reader, and go from there! I'm sorry if it seems short still!

Lioness Hybrid! Reader who doesn't like it when people assume they're weak, since they're smaller than the male Lion Hybrids, is automatically weaker. But they've never been allowed to go into the field to prove otherwise. Instead, they get placed on desk at every base, essentially becoming a glorified secretary, and it pisses them off. Over time they become irritable, then they start becoming increasingly agitated, until it gets to the point, that they're just flat out aggressive, and get traded around to different squads since people get tired of dealing with them.

Until John Price of Taskforce 141 sees their file, and decides to transfer them over to base. Immediately, all the personnel on base is put on edge. They've heard the stories of this hybrid, and they don't want to deal with that. Within a week of Lioness! Reader transferring, Price, Ghost, Gaz, and Soap notice that the hybrid seems agitated when they aren't put on missions or on regular training, so they have a small meeting, and decide to test out the abilities of Lioness! Reader. After Lioness! Reader is tested by doing the training regimen that Ghost follows, it's clear to the four men, that while the hybrid is smaller, they're faster and stronger than they seem, so Ghost makes it a point to read up on Lioness Hybrids, and comes up with a training regimen that will allow reader to train to their fullest potential. And it works, the hybrid quickly loses the aggressive behaviors once they start training with the four men, and soon they go on missions with the boys, getting results with brutal efficiency.

-------------------------------------------------------

Bat Hybrid! Reader, who is forced into military sleep schedules, and gets sick easily because of the stress it puts on their bodies. Gaz is visiting the base that the hybrid is at, and immediately notices how bad it is, so he calls Price and explains what's going on, Price then calls Laswell, and there is an emergency transfer for the poor hybrid.

Bat! Reader is allowed to set their sleep schedule to follow their bodies needs, and it starts a discussion about meeting Hybrids needs in the military, and not always forcing them to conform to things, especially not things that will cause their bodies harm, like sleep, diet, and training.

Bat! Reader, who shows their strengths once they're recovered, being able to find things in absolute darkness, flying up to around 60 miles per hour on a regular mission, to 100 miles per hour in an emergency. Bat! Reader has an amazing sense of smell, and uses echolocation to help track targets and squad members alike, and being able to accurately differentiate who's who. But that sense of smell comes at a cost. Bat! Reader has issues with strong odors, causing the guys to get better ventilation installed in the barracks.

Bat! Reader, who likes to sleep upside down at times, so Price installs a pull up bar in their room, with a soft cushion on the ground underneath it, just in case they were to fall. They tend to get anxious alone when they're trying to fall asleep alone, so typically the guys will sit in there with them until they fall asleep, unintentionally starting a bunch of break times that forces the guys to slow down and breathe.

I ran out of ideas, it's almost 6 am and I have a migraine, I'll post more when my brain doesn't feel like mush.

Give me more Hybrid suggestions, or tell me if you want to see more Snake! Lioness! Or Bat! Readers again.

Bye!

[thicc-ray-of-sunshine]

Of course he had to be there, why wouldn't he? The very object of your frustration right in the very spot you came to cool off. You'd recognize that stupid busted up stetson anywhere. He was lounging back, long legs posted up on the table in front of him while his chair was tipped back. Part of you itched to swipe your foot under it and knock his chair down, taking the smug grin he was giving you with it. You turned back to the bar with a huff and ordered two fingers of whiskey from James. Typically you were a nuka cola and rum kinda girl but tonight you were here to get drunk and needed something with some bite to it, especially since you knew there was no way you were going to avoid Cooper.

Realistically you didn't really have anything to be mad about, it was the wasteland after all so of course nobodys gonna be upfront or honest so you really shouldn't have been surprised when he jilted you and skipped town with three quarters of your radaway. He at least had the decency to leave you some caps but overall your profits took a hit because of the whole debacle. Well that and your pride. But that wasn't really what you were mad about, no not at all, you were upset because you wanted him, pure and simple. It was all encompassing and ate at you every time you even thought about his weathered face and dangerous demeanor. Sure he was mean but you always liked it when men had some bite, it was more of a snark anyway.

James offering you your drink pulled you out of yourself. You took your whiskey in hand and knocked it back, willing your face to not scrunch up at the harsh feeling it left in your throat. Speaking of keeping cool, you were having an increasingly hard time ignoring the stare Cooper was burning into the back of your head. Taking a deep breath and sliding your caps onto the countertop you slowly turned in your seat. As suspected he was just staring at you, his body relaxed and languid in his chair, drink held loosely in our and and a smoke in the other while his eyes pinned you with a stare that made you feel like you were on fire. You watched him as he clicked his teeth together and tilted his head to the side, motioning you over. Again you felt anger welling up underneath your skin at his smug attitude, yet that wasn't the only thing that was itching at you.

It didn't help that he downright grinned when you stood up and wandered over to him. You chose to stand in front of him, a little to the left of his legs but enough to be directly in his line of sight, hands crossed over your chest, displaying your displeasure.

"Aw it ain't gotta be like that sweetheart. It ain't like I did nothing untoward."

He said playfully as he leaned forward and set his glass on the table.

"Yeah nothing but stealing my shit. Totally normal friendly behavior."

You retorted, cocking your hip, knocking against his crossed legs at the thigh.

"You still owe me for that by the way. Not too pleased to have been robbed, especially after giving you some of my supplies on the house."

His eyes followed the line of your body down to where your hip touched him, giving you a brazen up and down that had you barely suppressing a shiver.

He took a long drag from his cigarette before he spoke again, eyes never leaving yours.

"You and I both know that ain't what this is 'bout darlin. You're mad because I left you high and dry."

You didn't know what to say, the way he said it was so matter-o-factly, like he was making fun of you. Yet the look on his face was damn near salacious. You felt naked, uncomfortable and unbearably angry that he had the absolute gall to even say something like that. Before you could even think about raising your hand to slap him you felt pressure on the small of your back your whole body suddenly tipping forward. Just as quick as you fell, you were hauled up into Coopers lap. Some part of your brain registered that he had kicked you but the rest of it was focused on the sudden close proximity and the gloved hand that had made its way to your hip. You watched him through your lashes as he worked his cigarette in his mouth before he exhaled, leaving you in a haze that burned your nostrils.

"So how 'bout we cut the shit and you let me show you what you've been missing out on?"

[kitashousewife]

sakusa doesn’t mind errands.

it makes him feel a little more accomplished, crossing things off of the to-do list. big or small, it gives him a chance to get out and enjoy himself, maybe even indulge on something new.

today is a day he would consider almost perfect. he’s grocery shopping through what feels like an empty store, listening to music while he weaves through the isles. this is his last stop of the morning, after the post office and the gym, and he’s ready to go home.

sakusa slows his cart to a stop when he reaches the last isle, eyes skimming the shelves for some fabric softener before he can head home.

a tap on his shoulder makes him just about shout in the store, the physical feeling of a record scratch makes his body jolt.

“e-excuse me?”

“yes?”

“h-hi,” you pull your hand away slowly, staring up at him with a rather nervous look on your face.

“hello.”

“sorry, i just,” you sigh, turning back to the shelves again. “what fabric softener do you recommend?”

at first, sakusa thinks you’re kidding. he tries to think if he’s ever been asked that in his life.

ever since his career took off, he’s had people stop him for numerous things. photos, autographs, cheap excuses at getting a few flirty comments in, you name it. this is a new one.

“u-uh, i guess it depends on what you’re looking for.”

you hum and nod, eyes still fixed on the bottles in front of you.

“something that smells good and leaves my clothes feeling soft i guess, but not something cheap and perfume-y, you know?”

sakusa absolutely does know, having gone through this same thing. he reaches forward, grabbing a familiar bottle and holding it out for you.

“this one’s good, not too expensive but still has a good smell.”

you turn to the stranger, only now realizing who you’re talking to. you’ve seen his photos, his instagram, and you’ve watched a handful of his games. your eyes widen for a second, but you give him a smile.

“thanks! ill try it out. i trust you,” you place the bottle in your basket and wrack your brain for something else to say.

“you’re welcome,” he mumbles, grabbing a bottle of his own. you’re about to walk away when he decides to speak up. “i hate having to find new products like this, so i’m happy to help.”

you smile wide, turning to face him again with a relieved expression. “right! it’s like as soon as you start to use something regularly, it completely stops working!”

he gives you a small smile and nods.

“i had the same thing with the bathroom cleaner i was using a couple weeks ago. i still haven’t found a replacement.”

sakusa is not one for small talk. he thinks it’s a waste of time, and something that typically makes him uncomfortable. but for some reason, here he is, blabbing about different cleaning products to some stranger.

a very pretty one at that.

“let me return the favor,” you spin around to the shelves behind the two of you, searching for something while a pop hit plays faintly in the background. you grab a spray bottle and hand it towards him. “this one’s great. one of the few things that hasn’t failed me in a while.”

sakusa smiles, and he can feel his cheeks turning pink. this feels so unfamiliar yet natural at the same time, and he’s having trouble keeping up.

“thank you,” he looks back at his cart for a second, suddenly feeling a little more shy than before. you sense this and give him a small wave.

“i hope you enjoy it! and thanks again for the help. i can now wash my clothes in peace.”

he nods and gives a small wave in response. you begin to walk away, and sakusa feels his heart beginning to race. he debates between following you and walking the other direction for a moment or two.

“w-wait,” he reaches towards you, but you’re just a bit too far. thankfully you stop, and sakusa feels relieved. “could i get your number?”

stunned with his new-found outgoing behaviors, he almost doesn’t hear you when you agree, only registering what’s going on when you hand him your phone. he takes it carefully, inputting his number quickly and handing it back to you with rosy cheeks.

he goes home that day with a giddy feeling in his tummy, hoping you text him back. when his phone buzzes later that evening with a photo of your folded laundry and a thank you, he feels a bit more confident and thankful for stepping out of his comfort zone.

[cinnamonest]

Head empty no thoughts just daydreaming about incel scara with groupmate/project member!reader

Imagine them sitting together in a library. They need to be close to share one screen and go over everything while one or the other does some explaining. And scara is just DISGUSTED by her very clearly, very obviously whorish behavior aka her casually jutting her chest, pouting/biting her lips, getting close to him when she needs to lean, when she bends over away from or next to him, he can see her cleavage if he tries hard enough, or see her skirt ride or her lower back getting exposed and if he moves juuuuust a bit closer he can touch her boobs-

Just outright disgraceful and shameless behavior typical of the female 😤 and no, that's not his boner wdym. And reader is just earnestly trying to understand what he's trying to say because he seems so indifferent and almost looks as if dislikes her.

Ahhh it must be because he's annoyed, this isn't her subject after all. In which case, ALTERNATIVELY- consider CS major scara with darling in some non-STEM field passively calling her dumb and insulting her intelligence whenever they come to "study" because: what? She doesn't know how to install Windows? Ha

Only reason she has a decent gpa is because you don't actually need brains or talent for those art "subjects" and they are more suited to females anyway because it's not like they contribute much to society or are very intelligent, unlike him-

I remember my university had these little rooms in their library that were basically tiny study rooms with a couch and chairs, but like no windows, and were advertised as two-way soundproof to help you study and let me tell you. Y’all. People had sex in those. A lot. It happened a lot.

But the thing is they had no tables with desk-type chairs, only like coffee tables and lounge chairs, so if you wanted to work with someone else on something you kinda had to use the sofa which could be very awkward. Anyway

Oh he's absolutely a STEM snob that looks down on humanities majors. They’re for people with no real skills, who lack the ability to do more important stuff… or God forbid, you're a fine arts major of some kind. Very typical girl stuff, they waste money on useless degrees because they insist on having equally useless jobs. You’re probably going to be a future HR person, getting random guys fired for harmless comments and such.

So he always talks to you in such a condescending way, as if the things he’s explaining are so very obvious or simple that it’s a chore to explain it to you. You need to be aware of how intellectually inferior you are.

Also he’s one of those boys for whom “disgusted” is really just turned on, he lacks the ability to distinguish it — like it’s arousing, but it’s irritating that it’s arousing because he can’t do anything about it, so he identifies that feeling as disgust when it’s really just unbearable levels of sexual frustration compounded with bitterness. Ugh.

And as for you, it has to be intentional. You know what you're doing. It's on purpose. You just think it's funny or amusing to torment someone who can't do anything about it. In a fair world, you'd pay for your actions somehow.

And maybe you're even getting good grades in exchange for "favors." That makes sense, it's the only way that explains how you remain enrolled really. Maybe you'll eventually do the same for him, try to get him to do work for you in exchange for something. Not that that would work, he would never ever enable you like that, and definitely has the self-control necessary to reject you.

There’s something so wrong with how things are, that this situation can even arise, that you’re allowed to waste so much money and time on your dumb degree when you have better uses. He’ll probably go home and make some long vent post to some niche corner of the internet about the woes of having to tolerate this situation. Tragic.

[waitmyturtles]

4 Minutes, Family, and Perceptions of Reality

Last week, before episode 6 aired, I was itching to pen some thoughts about breaking down family ties in 4 Minutes and how I thought themes like intergenerational trauma and filial piety (I stay so typical here on this blog) were affecting each character.

I'm glad I held off, and it's still probably just too soon to write this kind of analysis without knowing the entirety of the story. But this post by @cookie-kat777 about Great and possible present depression has me thinking at least about family, the way we are raised, and how our upbringings at least contribute to how we see the world as adults.

In this past Friday's episode, with @cookie-kat777's post on my mind, Great struck me as lonely and sociopathic -- and did Bible Wichapas ever do a HELL of a job acting out Great's generally questionable reactions as compared to everyday, normal social expectations of behavior surrounding INCREDIBLY intense and traumatic exposures to literal murder and/or death. At least we see him taking meds, but those giggles at the dinner table with his family were clearly off-putting and indicated that Great is not quite “there” in the head.

Even if Great didn't know about the illegal gambling business that built his wealthy lifestyle -- the choices, separately, that his father and his mother made to ensure their existence as a wealthy and important family certainly had brutal impacts on Great as he grew up, as well as, we assume, their emotional neglect of him during his upbringing.

(And, if I can bring up an example from the previous timeshift of earlier in the series, we know Great's parents used money to literally buy him happiness by way of toys that had no emotional meaning to him. Money may have bought him protection from consequences, but we've known from the start that it's never brought him happiness.)

Great's perception of what's SAFE and morally/ethically RIGHT, or at least, ACCEPTABLE, in the wider world, versus his own internal world, are UTTERLY OFF. While @cookie-kat777 absolutely lays out how that mental state could affect Great internally vis à vis depression, I'll also posit that it was Great's family environment -- his mother, his father, and Korn growing up knowing that he'd inherit at least some of the family business -- that also is fucking up his perception of the expected binary of "right" and "wrong" of society. We don't know quite how his mother clawed her way to Great's father's side, without Korn's mom present, but I'm going to guess it was brutal -- especially, as we see in this latest timeshift, Great's ability to walk away from death multiple times, and his father's angry ease in making death "go away," as it were (and let's throw Title in there, too).

A child's understanding of the world, how to go about in the world, how to interact in the world, how they relate to the external world, comes so much from their upbringing. An upbringing of a child creates relativity for that child. As children, we see the world as our caretakers interacted in it, and we're inclined to repeat that behavior -- until we are challenged by external forces to change our behavior and our viewpoints. Just as the four minutes from the time oxygen is cut off to a brain creates a new sense of perception, a specific upbringing of a child -- by parents, by grandparents, by a foster family, by an orphanage, etc. -- will have direct impacts on how that child grows up to relate to its world as an adult.

Tyme is the person that offers a challenge to Great's understanding of and relation to the external world and, subsequently, Great’s internal world as well. In this new timeshift of episode 6, I appreciate how Tyme seems so much more bitter, transactional, and "real" in straight-up using Great -- all while Great admires Tyme's tenacity to fuck with Great's family, as if Tyme were doing an action that Great has longed to do against his own family. Great ultimately does something, a one thing, in saving Tyme, but Tyme still walks away from Great, and Great is still left alone.

But in that process of being left alone, AGAIN, this time by someone who challenged him -- Great then moves forward to challenge his own existence and upbringing, confronting, finally, his parents for their decisions, and driving away from his mother. ...

... only to get shot by a grieving person in Tonkla, someone seeking revenge for a murdered brother that Tonkla simply loved. No matter where this story goes, at least we know that Tonkla loved Dome, to the extent of murdering others on Dome's behalf. While this storyline also isn't fully revealed, the Tonkla/Dome storyline narrates back to us, in another strange way, how family and familial ties can drive a person to go utterly haywire in their existence to survive and understand the world.

And, finally -- we learn that Tyme's parents were possibly the kingpins of the Sriwat illegal gambling business. How Tyme sees the world, in whatever timeshift he's in, has now also gotten jacked up with this piece of potential truth. What is his new reality vis à vis what he's been told? What is his capability to survive, especially after being saved by Great?

Like I said before, ha: I think it's too early to write this post without knowing if we'll be given a final, central narrative line about how all of these timeshifts link up. But I am LOVING, in this FABULOUS show, how we're being shown that the truths of how our families lived their lives can have such great impact on the way WE live OUR lives as adults, and I'm taking that theme away as something this show is commenting so very sophisticatedly on.

[neon-virus]

Now ramble shall be under the cut since this also touches on stuff that will be relevant for my fic so, spoilers maybe?? (Also i am no expert in making stuff sensical, so this is mostly shiet ive slapped together thats sitting in my brain)

also excuse any errors, english is hard :D

SO! the crowns.

I've made a lil sketch comic about Shamura and Nari talking briefly and Shamura referring to them as 'beasts'. I like to think that's what they are, parasitic like beasts.

They require strong willpower to withstand their influence. The crowns cannot do anything without someone to wield them, but if that person cannot resist the influence the crowns exert, then they will start to lose themselves to the crown.

The process depends. If the person is of weak mind, then they could become instantly consumed by it the moment it touches their brow. They would no longer be who they once were as the crown infects them in entirety and claims them for its own, eating their essence and making them effectively a shell for its own control.

Of course, these 'bodies' can still die, and once the crown no longer has its host, it becomes inactive.

But if you have a strong will, it comes down to a fierce endurance match, where the crown will try its damnest to break past your mental walls, to weasel its way in until you either give up or the crown submits.

Once submitted, it will effectively be 'inactive' in trying to influence the host, becoming a tool to be used and melded to its host's will. However, suppose that the host falls into a low point or has a grave vulnerability. In that case, the crowns will become active again, seeing their host is becoming weak and thus a perfect opportunity to influence and gain control.

For the bishops, this wasn't much of a problem outside of the initial wearing, at least until Nari started to question. Although Narinder is a very strong-willed person, the red crown still whispers to him, influencing his thoughts in the background and encouraging him until he ends up in his predicament of being imprisoned and leaving the bishops injured and vulnerable themselves.

Though the crowns can be given to others in smaller capacities or abilities granted to others, such as appointing them a vessel, they typically gain access to what is deemed necessary for use and not much else after that.

However, lamb was a bit different. Due to Nari knowing about the prophecy and the lamb showing absolute devotion, he gave her more access than she should have had and gave the crown room to sink its teeth in.

Granted, the crown quite likes lamb, almost imprinting onto her from her sheer strength of will and determination for revenge. It sought no reason to take control or try to as she did what it would have wanted her to do most of the time anyway.

So much so that it gave her a bit of help after Nari 'promised' her the prize she wanted, and the crown placed them into a pact. (That will be its own ramble later.)

and if she hadn't rejected Nari herself, the crown would have tried to make her reject him in her vulnerable state.

Now that he resides in the cult, the crown more or less is her's 100%, no shared control. And now that it has a new host, it no longer needs its old one, for what use is a gross chewed up toy to a beast when there's a fresh one to bite?

It still wants control—it's still a beast in a cage—but it's more willing to let her do as she pleases. It waited with Nari for over a thousand years, and it's waiting who knows how long more for the new host to eventually give in. It's very patient.

Also, when a host becomes infected with the crown's influence, their behavior tends to become strange.

Bursts of anger, erratic behavior, thoughts being replaced with what the crown wants you to think, and hallucinations, both visual and auditorial, are the general baseline for the start of an infection of the host, with other symptoms varying from host to host

[mae-lou-ron]

A Little Kindness, pt. 1

Summary: It’s been a few months since Crosshair and his family returned from Tantiss for the last time. Settling into civilian life hasn’t been easy, but one Pabu resident shows Crosshair some kindness that makes him want to try.

Pairing: Crosshair x fem!reader

Rating: T? G? I still don’t know how these things work okay?

Tags/TWs: social anxiety/awkwardness, internal berating, grumpy soft crosshair dealing with ptsd-related stuff but nothing specific, mentions of injuries treated but nothing specific, fluffyish, fanon typical swearing, reader was written as fem (she/her) but the only description so far is that she has hair and maybe wears perfume.

WC: 2,400ish

A/N: thank you to everyone who read A Friend Indeed. I really enjoyed writing the brotherly dynamic between Crosshair and Wrecker in that one. It was honestly an outlet for me to process some of my own stuff, and I appreciate all the encouragement and kind comments. I’m continuing Crosshair’s journey in learning how to heal and even maybe enjoy that Pabu life a little. I’m thinking I’ll make a little anthology series of these because I’ve got a lot of Crosshair fluff cooking up in this goblin lair of a brain. Part 2 to currently underway.

A song I listened to quite a bit while writing this was State of the Art by Incubus.

Proofread by me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Crosshair strode down the sandy path, his eyes periodically scanning the star-studded sky. He inhaled the night air, surprisingly crisp for the island now that the sun had set, giving way for the moon to rise. Its blue-tinted glow bathed the island, ushering in the evening sounds that helped quiet his overactive mind. He would often walk these paths at night, aiming for nowhere in particular, just letting his feet decide where he would go.

As he turned down the path that led to the compound of small homes shared with his family, he heard their voices spilling from open windows. They sounded upbeat and cheerful. The sing-song lilt of Omega's voice suggested someone else was there—a visitor. Crosshair inwardly cringed. Still new to civilian life, he wasn't overly fond of visitors—especially those who showed up unannounced, regardless of their self-proclaimed important reasons.

In situations like this, he couldn't help but notice how his siblings were adapting to life on Pabu much more easily than he was. People had a tendency to baffle him. But the others, Wrecker and Omega especially, seemed to really enjoy getting to know anyone and everyone. As Crosshair got closer, he recognized a voice in the mix of conversation, which nearly made him stop in his tracks.

He exhaled softly, a flush creeping up his neck. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears when he heard your laughter ring out. Why does it have to be her? The thought of walking past the compound and continuing down the hill to the beach was very tempting. He wasn't in the mood for other people right now, least of all you.

It definitely had absolutely nothing to do at all with the fact that he was always putting his foot in his mouth when you were around. You set him on edge like no one he'd met before, though not necessarily in a bad way. He quite liked you actually, but you'd probably never know it from his behavior.

Not to mention your last encounter on his walk a few nights ago. When you called to him from your porch, asking for his help with something out of your reach. He froze, thoughts swirling, and all he could manage to do was scowl despite his desire to assist. He hesitated, realizing it was a task you could likely manage yourself. But you asked, and the look in your eyes had his feet leaving the path and taking the small steps to your patio where you stood on a chair. Though you appeared steady, his hand instinctively hovered near the middle of your back. Maintaining his usual stern expression, he held the awning in place while you secured it.

You thanked him with a warm smile, and without thinking he offered you his arm as you stepped down. You accepted with another gentle smile, your hand resting lightly on his forearm, the warmth from your touch lingering even after you let go. You took a step backwards to admire your work. "That should do," you murmured before turning your attention back to him. "It might be a bit stormy tonight," you added, crossing you arms over your chest. You both glanced up at the clouds that had started filtering into the sky on the horizon. The bright moon made it easy to see them rolling across the water.

"Are you warm enough?" you asked, looking up at him and rubbing your arm as the wind picked up. "I've got some extra tunics or ponchos somewhere in here, if you'd like one… Oh, do you like tea? I just put some on…." You rambled, taking another step back towards your door, offering a welcoming smile. The breeze swirled again and carried the scent of your hair—or perhaps perfume—to Crosshair, and he felt drawn to accept your offer. Yet his apprehension rose, and his "no, thanks" came out quick and terse. He couldn't even recall if you said anything after he retreated, berating himself as he walked away. Before your house disappeared from view, he glanced back over his shoulder, only to find you'd already gone inside, leaving him with another twinge of regret.

But you were here now, and he couldn't really get to his part of their home without being at least noticed by Hunter. Kriff. He swore inwardly and steeled himself for the onslaught of attention that would be cast his way as soon as he crossed the threshold.

"Crosshair! You're back!" Omega rushed over as he appeared in the doorway. His sister beamed up at him, her cheeks flushed and eyes shining with excitement. "How was your walk?"

“It’s too close to bedtime to be getting all wound up, don’t you think?” he said to his sister and glanced at you, who was regarding him warily. Omega rolled her eyes and grabbed his arm, pulling him fully into room.

“Nope! But look what we just got!” she smiled, pointing to the table in the near center. You were there standing next to Wrecker with an amused look on your face. Crosshair scowled, gesturing to the pile of neatly folded ponchos on the table before them, one for each of them. "What do we need these for?" He chided himself mentally the moment the words made it past his lips.

"Duh, because it gets cold at night here during some parts of the rotation," Wrecker said matter-of-factly, as if it wasn't something he had just learned a few minutes ago himself. He nudged you gently with his elbow, which made you blush slightly. The exchange made Crosshair's eye twitch. What was wrong with him? He wasn't exactly proud of how your previous encounters had gone, and this one wasn't looking like it would be all that great either, but seeing you react to Wrecker like that… he liked that even less.

"It really does… I… didn't have a whole lot when I came here, but Lyanna brought me a couple of these not too long after. Total lifesaver," you beamed at Omega who was excitedly unfolding one to throw over her head. It had hues of blue and brown fibers threaded together. "They make them right here on the island. It might be a little big on you now but you'll grow into it," you grinned at the young girl as you adjusted the seams at her shoulders, letting the garment fall into place.

"I really like it," Omega smiled, giving a little twirl that made the fabric fan out around her. "Thank you," she added warmly before wrapping one of her arms around you in a half hug.

"Anytime, kiddo," you smiled down at Omega, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze before she turned to Wrecker to show him. When you looked up, Crosshair was regarding you with that severe look on his face, like it was actually causing him physical pain to be in your presence. You decided to take your leave, sensing the mood had shifted and not wanting to overstay your welcome.

"Well, I'll leave you all to it, then. I've got an early start tomorrow anyway," you said, your voice light and kind. Their words of thanks met your ears as you retreated towards the door, causing your lips to quirk up in a smile as you walked by Crosshair. However, he swore the spark he saw in your eyes when he first entered the room had dimmed a little. Good job, di'kut.

Crosshair opened his mouth as if he were about to say something, but no words came, instead he just gave you a tense nod of his head before looking at the floor.

"Goodnight, everyone," you said softly before closing the door behind you with a gentle click.

“Way to kill the fun, Crosshair,” Wrecker teased after a long moment, roughing his brother’s shoulder as he walked past him into the kitchen, shooting a wink at Omega.

A heavy silence settled over the room. Without looking up, Crosshair knew Omega and Hunter were staring at him, their arms undoubtedly crossed and their faces wearing that annoyingly stern expression. Great. It meant they were about to gang up on him.

"Crosshair..." Omega said with a gentle reproach only she could get away with. He still hated it, though. "The people here are kind. She's just trying to help us feel at home. She understands what it's like, remember?”

Crosshair set his jaw, struggling to untangle the swirl of self-doubt and self-deprecation in his mind. "I know that," he said softly, fully aware that you, too, had sought refuge on Pabu to escape the Empire not all that long ago.

"I also think she likes you,” Omega whispered conspiratorially. “Like actually likes you…"

"I can't imagine why…" Hunter muttered, leaning into the doorframe. Crosshair narrowed his eyes at him in return, taking a wooden pick from his pocket and placing it delicately between his teeth. “You act like she’s a thermal detonator or something,” Hunter rumbled, smirking.

Omega rolled her eyes and glared at Hunter before turning back to Crosshair, whose expression only continued to sour the longer he was being put on the spot. "Don't listen to him," Omega insisted, but Hunter's words gnawed at the part of Crosshair's mind that had already questioned the same thing. Yet, Omega saw through his trademark scowl, regarding him with affection and gentle reproach.

Crosshair sighed, eyes softening as they returned to Omega. He still couldn't pinpoint the exact moment this kid had wrapped him around her finger, but glancing at Hunter's face, he knew his brother shared the same thought. Crosshair rubbed the back of his neck, shifting his toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. Hunter's eyes simply darted between the two of them—no words were necessary.

After a long pause, Crosshair huffed, "Fine—I'll… go talk to her." He winced at the thought. "What do I even say?" he said to the room, his jaw tight, shoulders slumping slightly at the discomforting thought.

"Well—I think you might like her too, Crosshair…" Omega offered gently, "…so maybe start with something simple like 'thank you for the new clothes' or 'I'm sorry for being such a cold wet blanke—'" Hunter coughed to interrupt her, and his chuckling.

"Going," Crosshair held his arms up in surrender, slinking towards the door you had just exited a few moments ago.

"Cross," Hunter said as he followed him to the door, handing him a dark green one from the pile. Silent communication passed between the brothers. Crosshair eventually nodded and slipped the soft material over his head, adjusting it to drape evenly over his shoulders.

It was pretty comfortable, he had to admit.

The scents Crosshair had grown to associate with you still lingered on the fabric—warm and spicy but soft with a hint of something like chamomile. He took a deep breath, allowing it to hang on the end of his senses, pulling up fleeting images of you in his mind that gave him a strange fluttering in the pit of his stomach.

You were one of the first people here to show him genuine kindness. A series of gestures from you that had actually quite startled him at the time.

He could still recall every detail of that first encounter months ago. The landing pad on Pabu bustled with medically inclined residents and clone troopers as they returned from Tantiss. Your welcoming smile and guarded eyes greeted him as you offered your arm to help him onto an awaiting cot; he didn't take it, but you held it there nonetheless. Panic suddenly rose in his throat at losing sight of his siblings, but it subsided when he spotted Omega and Emerie tending to Wrecker nearby—who was indeed badly injured. Only after Echo lowered Hunter into the adjacent cot did Crosshair warily allow you to examine his injuries. You seemed to understand his hesitance, asked for his name, told him yours, carefully explaining each step and always seeking his permission before proceeding—a gesture that was both deeply appreciated and deeply unfamiliar to him.

Since then, he'd been struggling to find a way to thank you. Every time he tried, the words caught in his throat—nothing he could think of seemed adequate enough to express his gratitude. Parsing through the complexity of his feelings often made it difficult for him to speak. He found himself caught between wanting to open up and his instinct to maintain distance. Crosshair knew he needed to find a way to bridge this gap, but he had no idea how. And the idea of being hit with any sort of rejection from you also gnawed at him.

"You look great," Omega grinned up at him, shaking him from his thoughts. Hunter gave him an encouraging clap on the shoulder before pushing Crosshair back into the crisp evening air.

The air was more comfortable now with the added layer. The gentle breeze that wove its way through the streets and staircases gently tugged on the fabric as he walked. Looking at it more closely, it was different shades of green, and like Omega's, it was woven into a pattern that blurred one color into the next. He trudged the path to your neighborhood—lost in thought, wracking his brain for what he was going to say.

But when he arrived, the house was dark—it seemed you weren’t home.

Crosshair hesitated, contemplating his options. He brought his hand to the door but decided against knocking. He considered leaving a note but dismissed the idea quickly, as he had nothing to write with. He had no idea what he'd put down anyway. With a frustrated sigh, he turned and began walking aimlessly down the winding path.

Reluctant to return home immediately, Crosshair continued to where the houses grew sparse, eventually discovering sprawling patches of wildflowers. He vaulted over a crumbling stone wall and gathered a handful of blooms in various types and colors. As he walked back, he bundled the vibrant flowers as best he could, using his teeth and a loose thread from the poncho's hem. Upon returning to your door, he gently placed the makeshift bouquet on the chair you'd climbed onto the other night.

As he took a few steps back, he could only hope this small gesture might convey his intent better than any fumbling words he could muster right now. With a quiet hum, he finally turned and walked back towards home. Maybe he'd figure out what to say by the time he saw you again.

[alice-after-dark]

A Twist on the Standard RadioStatic

Not gonna call this a headcanon just yet, but it's a concept that has been swimming around in my brain.

Standard RadioStatic tends to go something like this: Alastor and Vox were friends, Vox caught feelings and confessed to Alastor, Alastor rejected him and fucked off for 7 years, Vox is now bitter and obsessed (insert details and personal preferences as you will).

Now while I typically think the falling out was both their faults (see this post), I have read some fascinating takes on alternative ideas to this norm and it has given me some thoughts (I am sure this is far from original, but screw you I'm having fun).

TW for abusive relationships, possessive/controlling behavior, victim blaming, and other canon-typical triggers. Contains abusive StaticMoth.

So imagine...it's Alastor who catches feelings. And he has no idea what to do with them. All he really understands is that he likes being around Vox and dislikes being away from Vox and he GREATLY dislikes anyone else showing any interest in Vox (more than one Sinner has been devoured for such a daring offense). He does not enjoy these feelings, no thank you sir. They make him confused and flustered and off balance and that is simply unacceptable. Of course this is Alastor, so he doesn't really process that what he's feeling is love. It translates more into a possessiveness in his mind. As far as he's concerned, Vox is his. What that means...best not to think too hard on it. It's hardly an issue anyways, with Vox always by his side like an excited puppy.

Until he's not.

Valentino slithers his way into the picture and this makes Alastor furious. Valentino is everything he hates; he's abusive, chauvinistic, disrespectful, and utterly full of himself. He can't stand that Vox is giving this walking shit stain the time of day. Vox learns very quickly not to bring up the moth demon around Alastor because he can fucking feel the hostility coming off Alastor in waves whenever he does (he doesn't understand why, of course. Val is perfectly charming to him. Okay, so maybe he loses his temper every once in a while every other fucking day and says some nasty things but he always apologizes...). And fuck forbid they are ever in the same vicinity. Vox has had to come between them on more than one occasion to stop a fight from breaking out. This of course only makes Alastor even more hostile because why is Vox protecting that wretched excuse for a demon? These encounters usually end with Alastor angrily taking his leave of both of them for the rest of the day. He ignores that so very loud part of his mind that protests leaving Vox alone with Valentino.

The breaking point comes when Alastor sees Vox's cracked screen for the first time.

Vox insists it was an accident, that Valentino didn't mean to. They just got into a small argument and Val can get pretty animated when he's upset and he didn't mean to shove Vox like that and it was Vox's fault anyways for continuing to push when he knew Val was mad he should have just given him space and Alastor is not listening anymore. He's heard this song and dance before. He's seen it played out before his very eyes. He will have none of it and WHY THE FUCK WILL VOX NOT JUST LET HIM KILL THIS FUCKING MOTH?!

Alastor loses his shit. He goes on a tirade about Valentino. This is not the mere hostile exchange of barbs Vox has seen between them before. This is pure unadulterated vitriol. Vox always knew that Alastor and Val didn't get along, but Alastor has never once let him see this absolute hatred he has been harboring for the moth demon. He has never seen Alastor's demeanor break like this before. He flat out demands Vox to never see Valentino again. They start to argue. Vox doesn't understand what is happening.

"Why the fuck do you think you get a say in who I'm friends with?!"

"B̃ͦͧEC̸͎ͯ̓̀Ą̨̼̠ͧ͜͝U͉̟͎̔ͩS͐E Y̢̦͂O̸͖U͗'̿ͮͪ̒̐_R͎͗̉̒Ḙ̑ M̵͔̱͂́ͭI̳N̯̲̝ͯ̄E̳̤͎ͯ̓ͬ͜!͙̪"

"I'm...what the fuck?!"

Because Vox doesn't understand what Alastor is saying. Fuck, Alastor doesn't understand what he's saying. He just wants Vox as far away from Valentino as possible and Vox is just not listening. Why won't he fucking listen?! And then it click with Alastor what he just said to Vox and the panic starts to set in and he feels vulnerable and exposed and he's not even sure why but he doesn't like it and it needs to stop now so he does what Alastors do best. He attacks the cause of those feelings.

He starts mocking Vox. Viciously. Goes for every weak point, every crack, every loose thread. He tears into him, shredding him down and spitting out the refuse. Did Vox really think he cared about him? That he was special? That he was ever anything more than a source of amusement? How fucking hilarious.

Vox attacks him and the rest is very messy history.

TLDR Alastor basically confessed in a very Alastor way because what are feelings and well fuck he's eating them, then panicked and proceeded to handle his vulnerability in a very Alastor way, Vox took what he said at face value and did not react well to being insulted, and Alastor took it as a rejection (even though he didn't entirely understand that that's what he was feeling).

[tarysande]

ADHD

I had ADHD for over thirty years before it was diagnosed, and part of the reason why it took so long is because a few specific things absolutely did not resonate with me. At all. And I saw them listed as "symptoms" of ADHD ALL THE TIME.

So, I thought I'd write up a quick list in case it helps someone else out there see past the stereotypes that are too often used as diagnostics.

ADHDers struggle with reading/words/speech etc.

ADHDers have a history of poor grades or attention at school.

ADHDers have a history of drug and/or alcohol abuse.

ADHDers can't sit still.

And how did I differ?

I read constantly. In fact, one might say I HYPERFOCUS on reading. I would rather read information than listen to it. (Reason #1 that I just can't get into podcasts!) The problem has never been reading--it's stopping reading. I'm a professional writer and editor with a background in acting. Words have never been a problem. Do some ADHDers struggle with words? Hell, yeah. Do ALL ADHDers struggle with words? Nope. Not even close. (PS: A lot of ADHDers who struggle with words may actually also have other learning struggles, such as dyslexia. ADHD loooooves a comorbidity!)

This is still SUCH a persistent myth. Even the psychologist who diagnosed me was hesitant because I had stellar grades all through my education. The more research they do, however, the more they realize that other things (autism, giftedness, etc.) can actually mask or mitigate the "typical" symptoms of ADHD that lead to it being diagnosed at school. And if you're an ADHDer who, say, hyperfocuses on learning (because it's cool! and you learn new things all the time!), or who has developed extremely effective coping mechanisms (perfectionism, people-pleasing, etc.), or who deliberately sticks to "safe" subjects to avoid challenge and possible failure, grades are NOT a good measure of ADHD. (Look into what it means to be "twice exceptional"--you may find a list of traits that resonates a lot more!)

ADHDers are out there looking for anything that'll give them a dopamine hit. Boredom is deadly. And the mix of novelty-seeking and low inhibition can often result in risky behavior. However, this can manifest in many, many ways. Drugs, alcohol, sexual partners? None of that was relevant to me. Spending, however? Especially spending money I didn't have on things I didn't need just to feel that itty bitty thrill of OOH SOMETHING NEW! ... yeah, that was a real problem. But not one I usually saw on those symptom lists, even though ADHD+finances can result in HUGE and life-altering problems.

Even bearing in mind that there are different presentations of ADHD--and that inattentive is one of them--ADHD does NOT always present as physical restlessness. Often, mental restlessness--racing thoughts, daydreaming, distractability, inability to "turn off your brain" to get enough sleep--slips through the diagnostic cracks and can be FAR more disruptive to one's health and happiness. And, again, many ADHDers develop coping mechanisms that can end up being very unhealthy or unsustainable in the long term. (I keep my ADHD in my thumb, for example. I can be perfectly still for a long, long time. However, my right thumb fidgets almost constantly. It's weird. Now that I've noticed it, I can't unsee it.)

I guess what I'm saying is ... nothing is set in stone where ADHD is concerned, so don't be afraid to dig deeper, especially if some aspects hit hard. Exploration is a good thing. Questioning is a good thing.

[montammil]

June of Doom Day 2 - "It didn't have to be this way"

| Scream | Double Cross | Made to Watch |

Everyone's favorite wholesome couple is back!! /j I didn't proofread (then again when do I ever), so sorry in case its kind of messy lol.

CW: Yandere/intimate whumper, torture, blood, implied noncon, kidnapping, murder (not Rowan or Sawyer)

...

Rowan couldn't go a single second without Sawyer mentioning his past life. It seemed that no matter how much time passed, Sawyer refused to accept the new life they lived together. That really hurt his feelings.

Why couldn't Sawyer see that he only did these things because he loved him? He did everything he did out of love, and Sawyer needed to appreciate him for that.

He set down a cup of tea for him and sat across from him at their small dining room table. Sawyer eyed the cup and saucer but didn't touch it. He did that sometimes, tried to pretend he wasn't hungry or thirsty.

"Come on, drink up. It's herbal and it's good for you." Rowan took a sip from his own teacup, his eyes never leaving Sawyer's face.

"It sucks. I want coffee," Sawyer bitterly said. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at the dark wood of the table.

Rowan dragged out a sigh. "I think you've had enough caffeine in your lifetime. Besides, this has chamomile in it, and that helps you sleep. That's what you want, right?"

He hated the fact that Sawyer still couldn't sleep in their bed, and preferred the guest bedroom's old, worn mattress. Sometimes Rowan would allow him a slight bit of space, but only sparingly.

"I want to go home." Sawyer's voice cracked. "I miss my friends, I miss the club, and... I want to be with people again, Rowan."

"You have me." Rowan scowled at him. "That should be enough. What's so wrong with that?" Sawyer shook his head, but kept his mouth shut. To Rowan, it just proved he was right. "Besides, why sing in front of a bunch of perverted drunks when you can sing here? In front of someone who actually cares about you?"

Sawyer clenched his jaw. "People who love others usually don't go out of their way to torture them."

Of all things, Sawyer had to bring that up.

Rowan sighed heavily. He really thought that they were making progress, but apparently that wasn't the case. Sawyer was just getting more defiant by the day. Rowan needed to do something about it, but it seemed like Sawyer became immune to his typical punishments. If only he could just bash in the brains of one of those friends Sawyer talked nonstop about.

The more he thought about it, the more appealing it sounded. If he killed one of Sawyer's friends, maybe he could learn a lesson about gratitude.

Then maybe he could finally forget all about that life and live in the one where he belonged with him.

That bartender--Lucien, he think his name was--was definitely a suitable option. He knew him and Sawyer were close, they always shot witty quips back at each other at Indigo. It filled Rowan with rage every time he watched their interactions.

He always had a feeling that bastard wanted Sawyer in more than just a friendly way. He didn't miss the way those dark eyes swept over his beloved every time he was on stage.

The more he thought about Lucien, the angrier he got. His hands tightened around the handle of his cup so hard it almost broke.

Rowan downed the rest of the tea like a shot. "If you keep this behavior up, Sawyer, I think we're both gonna regret it," he warned. Sawyer simply rolled his eyes in response. He didn't take Rowan seriously, and that pissed him off.

Part of Rowan was bluffing. He didn't like the thought of killing someone unless absolutely necessary, but... maybe this was necessary.

It wouldn't take too much effort to get to him. The bartender was not only scrawny, but even shorter than Sawyer. That made him the perfect victim.

He didn't try to hide his malicious smile. "Have it your way."

...

The next two weeks were somehow even more of a struggle than before. Rowan really thought Sawyer would have time to think over his vague threat, but it seemed like nothing affected him anymore. Sawyer had given up completely, and it hurt Rowan to see him that way. But what made it worse was the fact that Sawyer hadn't eaten in a week, and it didn't look like he planned on doing it any time soon.

Rowan was considering going back on his idea to murder Sawyer's friend, but the last straw happened just a few hours ago.

"You need to eat," Rowan insisted. He pushed Sawyer's plate in front of him. "I made your favorite."

Sawyer blinked at him tiredly. "I don't wanna."

Rowan ground his teeth. He tried so hard to remain patient for him, but all of that was quickly wearing off. He always considered himself a patient man, but it seemed as though Sawyer made him snap in more ways than one.

"Please, sweetheart. Just a few bites?" Sawyer remained silent, even having the gall to scoff at him. "This is for your own good, love. If you don't eat--"

"What? You're gonna beat me again?" Sawyer cut him off with a sharp tone. He couldn't hold back a dry, sarcastic laugh. "I'm over it, so go ahead." He propped his chin in his hand, his expression so cold it sent shivers down Rowan's spine.

"I was going to say you'll need to be put on a feeding tube." Rowan's voice was even, but Sawyer could sense anger bordering in his words. "Do you really want that?"

Sawyer huffed. "No, but I'm sure you'd be into that, right?" He saw a twitch of rage in his face and he smiled triumphantly. "Go on. Tell me about how it's for my own good. You love to hear yourself talk, right?" Rowan glared at him. "You spout the same shit every day, I have it all memorized! I can't tell if you're delusional or in denial, so I don't even know what it'll take to get it through your head that I hate you!"

He slammed his fist down on the table, hitting the edge of the plate and sending the contents flying off it.

After the shatter of the glass resounded the kitchen, the room became silent. Sawyer stared at the mess he made, then to the stunned Rowan across the table.

He swallowed hard, his stomach churning at the realization he may have gone a little far this time.

Sawyer always knew when to toe the line, when to push Rowan just enough to where he felt justified in his actions. But he'd never outright provoked him like that.

"Well," Rowan started. Sawyer couldn't see his face, but he heard the venom dripping in his words. "You've done it now."

And now, with Sawyer tied up and gagged back in the shed, Rowan decided he was done stalling.

It took almost three hours just to get into the city again, but it was worth it when he recognized the familiar street that led to Indigo. He pulled over by an alley, parking so his car was out of view. His timing was great, since he subconsciously memorized Lucien's schedule after memorizing Sawyer's, given he used to visit Indigo practically every day.

Lucien was smoking out back. Perfect. He went to the trunk and took out his gun, along with a few other supplies that he brought just in case.

The alley was deserted, but Rowan needed to work fast just in case some other staff member decided to join him.

"Hey," he called out as he approached. Lucien jumped and turned around.

The man looked up at him after brushing some of his own dirty blond hair out from his face. His brow furrowed, looking Rowan up and down. He didn't recognize him, clearly. Good.

"Hi?" Lucien paused. "Can I help you?"

Rowan smiled. "Yes, as a matter of fact." He leaned in close and used the little space between them to shove the muzzle of his gun into his stomach. "You're going to follow me and not say a word. Right?" Lucien stuttered in surprise, but managed to nod. "Good, now let's go." He nudged him with the weapon to show him where to go, which was back to his car.

Once they got there, Rowan unlocked the trunk and gestured to it. "Get in." He didn't expect the smaller man to climb in with no issues, but he didn't complain about it either.

It almost made Rowan feel sympathy for the guy, seeing him squished into the trunk. But that went away once he remembered who he was.

He was quick to tie him up and then slammed the trunk closed. He glanced around to make sure no one saw him, then climbed into the driver's seat. He wasted no time peeling out of the alley and speeding back to his lakehouse, where he was happy to dispose of him.

Rowan wasn't a sadistic man (at least that's what he convinced himself of) but he had no problem making sure Sawyer knew what he was capable of.

Sawyer was already devastated when he killed that random guy who tried to help him out. Even though it broke his heart terrifying his darling so much, he was still hoping this would teach him a lesson.

Maybe that time it didn't, but this one would surely be the nail in the coffin.

Rowan pulled in the driveway and cut off the engine. He stepped out, opened the trunk, and hauled the screaming bartender onto his shoulder. The bastard thrashed and kicked, but Rowan just held him tighter. He managed to slam the trunk closed while still holding his writhing captive. He stormed into the house, slamming the door behind him with his foot.

"I don't know what I did to you, but I'm sorry," he pathetically shrieked. Tears poured from his eyes. "You- you don't have to do this. We can talk about this!"

It was amusing how quickly his tough guy persona was dropped. Every time Rowan had seen him, he was always flexing his nonexistent muscles and acting all confident.

Now he was a sniveling mess, begging for his life.

Rowan opened the door to the basement, where he would've put Sawyer if not for what he was about to do. He threw the man down the stairs and left the room to retrieve Sawyer.

Sawyer was asleep when he opened the shed with a loud creak. He looked so beautiful when he was sleeping, he always had.

His eyes slowly fluttered open, then widened when he noticed Rowan standing over him. He tried to say something through the gag, but Rowan made no attempt to try to understand him. Right now, he didn't care what he was saying.

He picked up Sawyer and carried him inside, and to the basement. The man at the bottom of the stairs started crying harder as soon as he spotted Sawyer, and Sawyer returned the gesture.

Rowan sat Sawyer on the floor, much more gently than he did with Lucien. He removed the gag from his mouth.

"Lucien!" Sawyer wailed. He tried crawling over to him, but he didn't get very far. "Fuck... fuck..." He fell forward on his face, squirming in an attempt to escape his binds. "You motherfucker! What is wrong with you?!" This was the angriest he had ever sounded. But Rowan, who knew Sawyer better than anyone, knew he was more scared than anything.

But sometimes things like this needed to be done. Just a bit of tough love.

"Sawyer?" Lucien's voice broke. "Are you okay? What did he do to you?" His gaze flickered to the bruises littering his skin. Sawyer didn't answer. His shoulders shook violently.

Rowan stood by and watched with a blank face. "I thought you already learnt what I'm capable of, but I guess you need a reminder. Do you still hate me, my love?"

He didn't respond. Sawyer's breathing was harsh, tears streaming down his cheeks. He curled into a ball as much as possible with his hands bound behind him.

"Sawyer--" Lucien started.

"Shut the fuck up!" Rowan snapped at Lucien, silencing him. He grasped his gun out of his coat and pointed it at him.

He paused when he felt something on his shoe. Rowan glanced down to see Sawyer had crawled over to him, his body pressed against his legs. He was shaking like a leaf and giving him a teary-eyed expression, one Rowan was admittedly weak to.

"Please," he choked out. "Please don't kill him... please... I don't hate you, I love you, just let him go..."

Rowan adjusted his grip on the gun. He wanted to believe him, but he wasn't that stupid, especially after being fooled by him once. "You're a good actor, darling, but my heart can't take being deceived again. You've played with it enough. It didn't have to be this way."

Despite his words, Sawyer sobbed in relief when Rowan tucked the gun away. It didn't end there. He pulled something else out of his coat. It was a small but undoubtedly sharp switchblade. He grasped Lucien by the collar of his dress shirt, pulling him up so he could plunge the knife into his stomach, all the way down to the hilt. The action was met with an agonized cry from both of them.

Sawyer's eyes were so wide, so full of terror. Rowan could hear him begging, but couldn't care less in the moment.

He twisted the knife in his gut, watching blood seep past his fingers and soak through his clothes. Lucien's cries echoed around the room, incoherent and garbled. Rowan threw him to the ground.

"No more!" Sawyer blubbered, "please, no more, please! I'll do whatever you want! I'll never complain again, I'll never fight you again! Please!" He shrieked loudly, a scream so strong that his voice broke, turning into nothing but a raspy squeal.

At first, Rowan was about to say 'fuck no' and finish gutting him like a fish. He then thought over his words. He was still going to kill Lucien, no doubt about that, but...

"Whatever I want," he mused. "You'll say yes if I propose? Sleep with me? Let me touch you without complaint?" Sawyer nodded so furiously his head nearly flew off. That was a reaction that satisfied him. "And if you go back on your promise, I'll bring you his head. Do you understand that?" Another rapid nod. "Okay. I want you to remember your deal with me. I'd hate for you to think I'm bluffing."

Sawyer cried into the cold ground as Rowan dragged Lucien off, with the promise of taking him to a hospital.

Little did Sawyer know, Rowan buried him in the backyard.

[tigertofu]

ok i've been chipping away at this Thing for a long time and i think it's finally ready to be vomitted out into the internet. without further ado, here is my

Stupid-Long List of Trevor Headcanons

divided into chronological sections !

((the NSFW shit is hiding at the bottom))

CW's for: mentions of drugs/alcohol, addiction, cannibalism, violence, gross sex stuff. typical Trevor things

and heres a gif of him cuz ig thats the tumblr thing to do idk i never made one of these lists b4 :x

the past

• he's a scorpio and the reason he has a scorpion tat on his hand is bc he's like. very mildly into horoscopes. he was born some time in november

• he doesn't have a middle name cuz his mom didn't give enough of a shit to give him one

• despite playing hockey and golf as a kid, he was never really that into the sports themselves. he only did hockey because he saw it as a way to beat up other children and not get reprimanded for it, and he did both in the hopes of being good enough at something to earn his mother's praise for once (it did not work :()

• hates his dad bc of how he treated his mom and is glad he abandoned him at that shopping mall when he was a kid

• he (w/ Brad's help) would play "pranks" on (aka BULLY) poor Lester during the north yankton days. some fav pastimes included (but were not limited to): pantsing him, hiding his walking cane, and replacing his asthma medication with laughing gas

• was highkey jealous of how easy Michael could get girls during the north yankton days. when he actually was able to convince a girl to come back home with him, he would make sure to be loud as hell about it so that Mike would know he wasn't the only one getting chicks

• all of his hand tats and a lot of his other tats were done in prison, even tho he was only in for like 6 months

• prison was a mixed bag for him. on one hand, anal. on the other, having to restrain himself from arguments and physical altercations so he could get out early on good behavior

• went thru a breakdancing phase in the 90's (i THINK this one might be canon. idk. could've sworn i've heard him try to tell Lamar this in an attempt to impress him. pls feel free to prove me wrong or right)

• one of the scars on his eyebrows is actually the result of getting a fresh eyebrow piercing ripped tf out during a barfight in the 00's. prob for the best that it was cuz we all know that shit wouldve ended up getting infected and rejecting out of his face anyways

• he moved to Sandy Shores not just because it's nice and isolated, but because it was the place most opposite of north yankton he could think of. never any snow. he absolutely fucking hates cold weather and snow because it reminds him of a certain bank heist that happened in '04

• between Ron, Chef, and Wade, Chef was the first one he met after moving to Sandy Shores. they used to cook meth together in a trailer out in the desert (another one that i THINK is canon but im not sure idk. it all blurs together, idk whats canon and whats not anymore, my brain is too rotted from spinning Trevor around in it like the world's most dried out little shriveled husk of a rotisserie chicken for the past three years, the fog is coming, yk how it is)

• he acquired Liquor Ace the same way he "acquired" the Vanilla Unicorn. the previous owner just mysteriously disappeared one day. nobody in Sandy Shores cared tho once word got around that the new owner was gonna start cooking crystal in the upstairs and selling it

• yk how in the game he said that his heart momentarily stopped once cuz he put an axe thru a power cable? he did that cuz the power had gone out in the middle of him watching an Impotent Rage episode he hadn't seen yet. for some reason (was prob very high and very angry) he thought that he could bring the power back by hitting the sparking wire with an axe. it didnt work. he smelled like overcooked bacon for a week afterwards. he enjoyed that part tho

the present

• he makes Ron cut his hair with a pair of rusty kitchen scissors when he needs a trim. he used to go to the nice barber lady in Sandy Shores but got banned after loudly moaning about how good her nails felt on his scalp once

• once smoked an entire cigarette in one long inhale. Wade witnessed this and found it extremely impressive

• he'll eat pretty much anything but he especially likes foods with strong flavors. salty, sour, super sweet, spicy, etc cuz his taste buds are SHOT from the years of smoking/drug abuse. he abuses condiments, especially hot sauce

• thinks that any restaurant that doesn't have a drive-thru is a "fancy" restaurant

• LOVES candy cuz the meth has given him a major sweet tooth, but prefers anything with chocolate over fruity/gummy candies

• has a weird fascination with eating raw meat.....of any kind. except for sushi. he thinks sushi is "fancy prissy city people food"

• also has a weird fascination with making stews/soups similar to the eyelid one that he tries to feed Michael in that one cutscene. it's the only type of food he knows how to cook. may be a comfort thing for him because microwaving a bowl of canned soup was the most effort his mother ever put into making a meal for him when he was a kid. and she did it like, twice, maybe. he for sure remembers both times very clearly tho and considers them to be some of his fondest memories

• will go for days without eating anything solid before finally sitting down and consuming enough food to feed a family of 5. sometimes he just like. forgets that eating is necessary for survival

• can open beer bottles with his teeth. between that and the meth habit, its an absolute miracle he still has all his teeth

• go-to pizza order is a large meat lover's. he tries to make vaguely sexual passes about "loving large meat" at the poor pizza delivery guys every time he orders delivery. does not tip, but will say shit like "hey, if you come inside i've got a little tip for ya" while the delivery guy quickly vacates the premises

• honestly? i think there is a good 50/50 chance on whether or not he is ACTUALLY a cannibal. maybe he posters as one cuz he likes the reactions it incites, maybe he genuinely enjoys the psychosexual intimacy of consuming the flesh of another human being........ who knows !! not knowing is half the fun :)

• ok ok hear me out u know that stupid tiktok sound that was going around a couple years ago that goes "hi my name is carmen winstead -- HAAAAAHHHGGCHH" ??? look it up if u don't cuz that's what his snoring sounds like. the fucking "HAAAAAHHHGGCHH"

• once he's asleep he is out like a fucking light. guy could sleep thru nuclear war

• is not opposed to drinking hand sanitizer when out of other sources of alcohol. it tastes just like the shitty moonshine Ron makes in his backyard anyways and gets him even drunker so why not !

• hates horror films bc they make him angry. at least, any of the ones where somebody survives at the end. thinks the murderers in them are stupid. starts yelling shit at the TV like "HE'S GETTING AWAY YOU STUPID FUCK,, WHAT ARE YOU DOING !!!!"

• believes baby pink and orange are "his colors"

• will sit on his sofa or bed and try to shoot any cockroaches scurrying around his place with a pistol for funsies when bored sometimes

• enjoys playing darts at the Yellow Jack with anyone who'll play him but absolutely fucking sucks at it cuz of his shaky hands. accidentally threw a dart into another bar patron's head once. will rage and insist his opponent cheated when he loses. will then get physical if anyone tries to tell him its impossible to cheat at darts. is much less of a sore loser when playing with Mike, Frank, or Lamar tho he will still grumble about losing for up to hours on end afterwards

• is an illegal immigrant bc he never became a US citizen. does not own an actual ID, but has several fakes lying around, all with fake birth dates and fake names that are wildly varying levels of believable

• will absolutely flip his fucking lid if Wade comes around him while wearing Juggalo face paint

• speaking of Wade. yk how he has a shitty tattoo of his own name on his arm? (at least i think he does. i tried looking to see if he does and i couldnt tell so now im unsure if thats just yet another detail that my brain completely made up or smth that i actually saw). ANYWAYS, Trevor gave it to him (stick n poke. it was a longggg process but Wade didnt mind too much cuz he was high at the time and consented to it beforehands anyways) when Trevor first "took him in" cuz he kept forgetting his name and got tired of referring to him as "Hey, you" (which Wade did not respond to most of the time anyways)

• is an ugly crier. like, a butt-ugly crier. snot, drooling, wailing, red face, the whole nine yards and he is loud as hell about it too

• loves back rubs cuz ofc he does he's an old man. often makes Ron or Wade give him massages

• his boomer-ass super-zoomed-in LifeInvader profile pic was taken by Ron. it took them a dozen tries before they got it

nsfw

• he sucks at eating out.........kinda? but what he lacks in precision and consistency he makes up for with sheer (sloppy. slobbery) passion. and endurance. can stay down there (and will, if you let him) for hours

• is not much better at blowing. "accidentally" uses too much teeth every time

• ~4 inches. MAYBE 4.5. good girth tho. not cut

• has a thing for chubby/thicc ppl

• is a biter and won't ask before biting so uhh watch out ! part of the reason for the above is bc there's more to bite

• loooooves loves loves to suck on things. fingers, necks, tits, dicks, anything. also looooooves having it reciprocated. particularly likes shoving his fingers in your mouth

• loves to involve mouths as much as possible. spitting/being spat on, the aforementioned biting as well as being bitten, eating food off of your body or having food eaten off of him, the type of makeout sessions that involve shoving each other's tongues down each other's throats.. anything that involves mouths and/or the motions of eating drives him fucking wild

• will beg you even when not explicitly told to when he's not feeling dominant. will beg and beg and beg and beg and it's hot but can also quickly become incredibly annoying

• but he LOVES to be annoying on purpose too. via the begging, or by teasing/edging, mocking, etc. loves to get a rise out of you and loves the attention (even if negative.. ESPECIALLY if negative) it gets him

• occasionally cries after sex. will expect you to hold him while he does. will start to angry cry and say you don't actually love him if you refuse

• now ik this one is nothing groundbreaking and seems to already be the general consensus amongst the Trevor enjoyers but im gonna say it anyways. he def has a thing for public/semi-public sex. be careful about sitting next to him while in any public space. he WILL try to touch on you and it WILL be in a way that makes it obvious to everyone in the immediate vicinity what's going on. does he do it on purpose as an exhibition thing? maybe...... does he genuinely think he's being slick about it? also maybe. if ur with him, expect to be banned from multiple establishments

• lowkey has a breeding kink in the sense that he loves to finish inside (not just bc it feels nice but also bc of the intimacy of it) and thinks that pregnant women are hot as hell

• is most likely infertile due to the years of meth use tho

• loves to both overstimulate and be overstimulated. just bc you've both climaxed doesnt mean he wont keep going for god-knows-how-long

..................andd that's all she (i) wrote. ty for reading !! i've got more shit to say about Trevor cuz ofc i do but this is already like 2k words so if u wanna hear my headcanons on anything specific at all,, pls do throw it in my ask box ! <33