#swingin bats

[sbats-offical]

what if I just. bit Yukio?

I dunno, I'm bored and don't wanna be in class :3

-🎀

[akkivee]

also, iwasaki-san lowkey being a rosho yume is so funny lmao he basically self inserted himself into this situation on stage during today’s hangout stream lmao

[sagemoderocklee]

omg let’s go choose violence multiples of three 🔥

3. ANSWERED

6. which ship fans are the most annoying?

lotta them are but def S/S and N/H for me.

i think n*r*gaa is annoying but like the actual fandom has toned down some or maybe i just been out of it so long i never have to see anything from them. though i still think its annoying whenever the fandom does stupid lil 'gaara is jealous of sasuke' jokes. annoyin as hell and completely disregards the way gaara empathized with sasuke--even if kishimoto couldn't commit to that more strongly. but hey no one is important unless they can be used to prop up the MC, and god forbid anyone but naruto feel anything for sasuke i guess. not like the whole thing with gaara and sasuke in classic was that gaara saw himself in sasuke... like rlly fuckin sucks what we coulda had there

9. worst part of canon

god there's so much that's bad but definitely the Otsutsuki. gotta be my least fave thing. zero foreshadowing because it was just a gimmick for boruto.

also ch 700 sucks and doesnt exist to me

12. ANSWERED

15. that one thing you see in fanart all the time

gonna assume this is meant negatively but uh besides the obvious blushing gaara shit also the orientalist designs that are out there. like gaara in these fake ass belly dancer type costumes. ugly and racist as hell. like if you wanna put Gaara in clothes from SWANA regions then do the fucking research. dont just throw shit together. you cant culture vulture your way to a diverse cast of characters

18. it's absolutely criminal that the fandom has been sleeping on...

bitch i dont know >< uh... yeah i got nuthin

21. part of canon you think is overhyped

lmao most of it but definitely Madara

24. topic that brings up the most rancid discourse

a*3

if someone wants to give their money to a site that hosts cp, racist fics, silences pro-Palestine volunteers, treats volunteers like shit and ignores the volunteers of color experiencing racism then imma block and move on with my day. and if someone wants to align themselves with ppl who send messages to the effect of "lol because of this im donating $100 to a*3" to mostly Black bloggers seeking mutual aid who happen to be critical of said site... well thats on them too. these ppl are one step away from callin Black ppl slurs but sure it's more important to protect this site from so-called censorship (it's actually just moderation, but go off with that fake ass oppression)

you dont get to call somethin art and then not criticize it and the spaces it inhabits. real literature is criticized, so if fanfic is held up to that standard then it and the spaces it exists in should be criticized--and in general any community space needs to be held to a standard, but hey that's askin mostly white ppl to care about community. but like either its transformative and therefore warrants engagement on that level or its just for fun--and if its the latter, then youre still sayin its fine to have fun at the expense of others; its fine to disseminate works that maintain the status quo, and even encourage it. you cant 'representation matters' and 'fiction doesnt impact reality' a thing--the two are contradictory, only one can be true, and hint: it's not the latter--or the space it exists in.

also genuinely think its so disingenuous to act like ppl critical of that site are all doin it out of spite and to "ruin ppls fun" insteada because they want that space to be welcoming and better for everyone--safer. ppl pushin for change are tryna make it a place that doesnt cause harm, silencing that is so fuckin stupid

[taintedlxve]

Question how do y'all think Stelle's fighting style ACTUALLY works-

[a-shrieking-cloud-of-bats]

heard our very reserved dog bark yesterday and it scared the shit out of me

Loud Singular Bark

[taylorsabrina]

i'm not gonna lie i wasn't really on board with sabrina and barry but they're growing on me.

[nabtime]

Sir Waylon of Gotham

Waylon wasn't much for talkin' to hoity-toity well-to-doers. Didn't much like their attitude. Or the way they looked at 'im. Lookin' down their noses, all pinched-faced and holier-than-thou, like he was the scum of the earth for the way he looked. And while Waylon wouldn't deny that he was scum, it sure weren't for lookin' the way he did. He'd earned that title fair 'n square, through hard work 'n strikin' fear inta the people of Gotham.

And he did that by bitin' they's arms off, not 'cause he was a li'l scaly.

Point was, Waylon didn't talk much with fancy people. Yeah, he talked to the Bat Brood and they could half be considered fancy on account of mostly bein' Waynes under the mask, but they didn't count. Not really. 'Specially their newest petite couyon that liked to swing about in his sewers like the chit owned the place. He didn't know how the kid was added to the family- coulda been adopted, coulda been one a' the other one's partner, coulda been another blood son a popped up outta nowhere 'gain.

Waylon didn't ask and the chit never said. No, all Phantom ever wanted to talk 'bout was how Waylon was doin. Idjit was far too concerned about Waylon's well-bein' when he shoulda been mindin' his own damn business. Kid said it was part a his business. That heroes had to check in on the reformed, make sure they were well and happy so they didn't have a need to get back inta villainy. Waylon wanted to call bullshit on 'im but he just didn't have the heart when the kid looked so earnest 'bout it.

And maybe the kid was swingin' in all the time just to check in on an Old Croc. Maybe even the kid didn't mind bein' 'round 'im an 'is big, scary teeth. Sure it were more likely he needed an escape an' the sewers were a place most Bats didn't venture less they had to, but iffin that were true- kid didn't have to find and talk to him every time.

All this was to say that he'd gotten used to seein' Danny 'round the sewers, and even seein' Jay when the older kid was sent to bring the other back topside.

Who he had not gotten used to seein' in the sewers, though, was a pretty thing all done up in medieval dress and glowin' green. Nor was he used to the hulking Knight done up in glowin' black armor standin' next ta her.

And, again, Waylon wasn't much for talkin' to hoity-toity people, let alone Ghost Royalty or some such, but he was still a man with manners. An' they were in his sewers (well, an' Grundy's, but the big lug weren't here, so's point was moot) so he was haven'ta be the one to greet 'em.

He growl echoed off the stone and muck as he approached the two beings that were floating midair, just above the water. They both looked lost until he fully rose from the grime and addressed them.

"Youins need somethin? Ya lookin fer Danny?"

And, well, Waylon said he had manners. Never said he was gonna use 'em.

"Oh!" said the sweet thing in flowing gown, her voice just as soft as she looked. "Yes! You must be the good Sir Waylon of Gotham that the King speaks so fondly of. I am Princess Dorathea and this is my personal guard, Fright Knight."

Sir Waylon? Now that's not somethin' he's ever heard afore. Him? Deservin' of a title like Sir? Ain't no way. He weren't 'bout to say nothin', but it sure did make him feel all flustery that a noble Lady like her would think so highly of a monster like him.

"Nah I wouldn' say he's 'xactly fond a me, but the name is Waylon, yeah, uh- My Lady."

And she smiled at 'im, sweet as anythin', like he weren't made a sharp edges an spilled blood. The big Knight aside her was actin like that too, posture relaxed as he just let her get closer. Closer an most people ever dared. 'Cept Phantom an some a the Bats. Was it a ghost thing? No fear a death, so whats scary about a big man with sharp teeth anymore?

"Would Sir Phantom be near-abouts?" she asked. "I require his counsel on matters of import."

"Sorry, cher- uh, My Lady," he grumbled, "ain't gotta clue where he's at. Somewhere's topside, prolly."

Her shoulders slumped just the slightest, obviously disappointed in his answer. And try as he might to want to give her a better one, he only knew where the kid was when he wanted to hang around underground. Waylon avoided the streets at all costs these days, not wantin' to risk trouble again. He'd spent enough of his days wastin' away in Arkham and Blackgate, thanks.

The Lady turned thoughtful though and graced him with a tilt of her head and a smile. "Perhaps you would deign to assist me instead, Sir Waylon?"

"Well nah, I'd love ta, My Lady. Supposin' its somethin' I can help ya with."

"Yes," she said, circling around him in a graceful glide, "so long as you are willing, you will suit just fine."

"Ya still haven't told me what ya need help with, ah- My Lady."

Waylon couldn't see the Knight's expression but he could almost feel the amusement pourin' off a him. And he wondered just what the hell he'd agreed to that a guy like that'd find it funny.

"My brother is making moves to take back the Kingdom. He has amassed a small, but skilled contingent of rebels and intends to usurp me at the upcoming Yule Celebration."

"So ya need muscle ta help stop 'im?"

"Oh no," she said, sweet but full of venom- like arsenic. Her grin was now full of teeth, teeth much to sharp for a proper Lady like her, and her eyes turned to glowing reptilian points. "I can take care of him myself. I intended to ask Sir Phantom along as contingency."

She looked him up and down and the Knight standing guard behind her was projectin' a certain smugness as he did the same.

"You, however, Sir Waylon," she said, and the tone near sent a shiver down his spine. "Will do well as both warrior and suitor."

"What say you?"

[vampirecorleone]

"Stay away from me!" | "Why?" | "I just wanna go back to my room!" | "Why?" | "Well, I'm very confused, and I just need time to think things over!" | "You've had your whole fucking life to think things over, what good's a few minutes more gonna do you now?" | "Please don't hurt me!" | "I'm not gonna hurt you!" | "Stay away from me!" | "Wendy? Darling? Light, of my life. I'm not gonna hurt ya. You didn't let me finish my sentence. I said, I'm not gonna hurt ya. I'm just going to bash your brains in! Gonna bash 'em right the fuck in!" | "Stay away from me! Don't hurt me!" | "I'm not gonna hurt you." | "Stay away! Stop it!" | "Stop swingin' the bat. Put the bat down, Wendy. Wendy? Give me the bat..."

The Shining (1980) dir. Stanley Kubrick

[assortedvillainvault]

I said I was gonna request you, and i'm finally here. Can I request more fluff Headcanons for Facilier, Headless horseman and Horned king?? 🥺 Thank uuu 💫💫 hope you're doing amazing btw <3

BUBBLY i'm so so sorry for the wait on this, I've done nothing but rotate this ask in my head for 12 months, please enjoy-!

FLUFF HEADCANNONS

Dr Faciler:

- This MAN-

- Smooooooth as butter in a slow warmed skillet in summer.

- He’s an elegant chaperone draped in shadow, a hand in the darkness, a gentlemanly escort through the city streets, he’s basically able to hear you through every dark nook and cranny in New Orleans and assistance for anything is only the bat of an eyelash at a dark alley away.

- There’s. There’s so many petnames. The way he purrs ‘Darlin’’ feels like some kind of sin.

- You better believe half of New Orleans owes him a favour or two, so when he decides to take you out on the town, you’re getting nothing but the best service. It may not be the kind of highfalootin’ places he feels you deserve, but hidden in alleyways and in cellars lives New Orleans most raucous, lively, swingin’ nightlife and you’ll both be dancing till your feet fall off.

- Even as you both go for a pleasant walk around town, his ceaseless fingers are dipping into pockets and swiping passersby to get you something nice.

- While you’ve grown used to the sensation of being watched from the darkness, Facilier started taking pains to steer you away from where the city borders the bayou after you told him you felt watched there too.

- Mama Odie has her ways of keeping tabs on you both – and the horrified look on Facilier’s face when she hollered across the river “Stand up straight!” and “Y/N better be eatin’ right!” and “I better see some grandbabies!” (regardless of gender, she has her ways) was priceless.

Headless Horseman:

- Though he can vocalise, it often hurts, so when you appeared with a book on sign language he couldn’t help but sweep you up into a tight embrace.

- You’ve gotten familiar with the signs for ‘hello’ and ‘come here’ and ‘I love you’, the last being something he takes great pride in making you blush with.

- If you don’t know how to ride, he’ll teach you, though you know for a fact his horse Alpatraum only tolerates it because the Horseman is there to supervise. You’re getting thrown otherwise.

- (since learning said horse has a severe weakness for sugar cubes you’ve been graduated from ‘annoyance’ to ‘my annoyance with snacks’. He’ll let you pet him eventually, don’t worry.)

- If you have your own horse, it’s romantic nighttime rides through the woods as far as the eye can see. But HH's favourite is when you smirk and dare him to catch you, taking off at a gallop and laughing as he races in pursuit, the horses hooves like thunder as he gives chase.

- He loves it when you get chilly, because it means he can wrap you up in his cloak and snuggle in the saddle.

- Lowkey loves it when you carve him new faces/heads for halloween, though does have a slight caveat that you please keep the design somewhat frightening. If he’s left with the hello kitty pumpkin again yes he’ll begrudgingly wear it because you worked hard on it but you’re getting stuck up a tree as penance.

The Horned King

- Tf do you mean fluff he’s cold he’s hard he’s ragged he is terror he is death whispered on the wind-

-If you kiss his hand he nearly pitches over.

- The longer you’re in his company, the more you can observe his mocking use of endearments become ever so slowly more sincere, until only he is allowed to call you sweet things – which becomes a rule enforced with ruthless efficiency in his castle.

-He enjoys walking and talking with you, which is good because you’re the only person on the goddamn planet that can convince this lich to leave his depression hole of a private tower and get him to experience a change of scenery. Even just around the parapets would be enough, and then he gets to offer you his arm for the uneven ground and have you lean on him and oh, yes absolutely dear we can make this a daily occurrence-

- His major love language is quality time – simply being in your presence is enough to soothe the hard edges of any day. His favourite thing is just the two of you existing in the same space, quietly doing your own thing, and maybe settling in for some idle handholding just to make things Perfect.

- As a sidenote – you know the thing? With the gentle handholding and the little thumb-stroke over the back of the hand? Yeah. Yeah. That.

- Because he struggles with actually directly verbalising soft feelings (he’s allergic to announcing he’s secretly made of bone shaped mush), he’s come up with the genius coping mechanism of ‘Acts of Service – gaslighting edition’.

- Example:

- “...Sire did you order the men to renovate my room??”

- “The castle requires upkeep, my dear.”

- “...but the renovations seem to comprise of. Just my room.”

- “...Perhaps once the men and Creeper prove themselves deserving of leakproof roofs and sufficient insulation I will order their quarters improved also. Now hush.”

Once again Bubbly I'm so sorry for the wait, I hope you like these little bits!!

[sbats-offical]

Do you like crabs

mmmmm tastey -👾

I wanna be a crab :3 - 🎨

I want a pet crab, they're my favorite animal- 🎀

Etsuko, you good? -💢

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Okay, so I see you’re still somewhat accepting requests, so hear me out on this little HC or scenario okay?

What if you take Bucky to a rage room? What’s he doing, how long does it take him to start fr raging, does he even rage, etc.

Tysm and have a good day!

- Sunny

bucky barnes and the rage room.

hi sunny!! here are my personal opinions/headcanons about it. if you or anyone agrees or disagrees, i’d love to hear your thoughts <3

- Honestly, I don’t think he’s into it. My first instinct was that he wouldn’t even go. I think if his girl really wanted to, he’d tag along, but just because he loves being by your side for everything.

- He’s worked really hard on being better with his emotions, and now he works through them as they happen. He’s really made progress with not bottling stuff up anymore.

- Sure, he gets a little angry occasionally - when people jaywalk in front of his car, or when he breaks something accidentally. But it isn’t rage.

- So, I think you encourage him to find the fun!! Sure, we’re not realistically working through any fury fuelled trauma here, but we can have a laugh and a good time.

- You throw the first plate, both of you flinching when it smashes against the wall. Bucky reminds himself to take a breath, that this is something people do for fun now in the 21st century. It isn’t serious.

- You hand him a glass, encouraging him to do as he wishes. He drops it straight down, almost gently. You grin and rest your forehead against his (as best you can with safety goggles on) to give him a little reassurance.

- He throws the next glass with a little more force, against the bottom of the wall. It shatters into a million pieces, and now Bucky’s starting to get it.

- You suddenly have a baseball bat in your hand, which is worrying for him. You’re clumsy on the best of days, and he doesn’t need you knocking yourself out. He’s got a subtle eye on you as you wind your arm back and swing, straight into an old tv set.

- You barely make a scratch. Suddenly he’s laughing, properly laughing, the sound coming from deep in his stomach. You try to look stern but you can’t, not when he’s folded over, tears dripping down his cheeks. All you can do is beam, giggling through your annoyance.

- He takes the bat from you and gives you a look that asks can I? Of course you nod, stepping back. He takes a swing, cracking the entire thing apart. It’s ancient, so it’s tough, built to last.

- Once he’s made a start, he gives the bat back to you. He’s made it much easier for you now, and you break parts of it off with glee. You swing for the screen, then the top, then the sides. It’s smashed into pieces of debris in no time, both of you cackling as you do it.

- Eventually, when you’re both a little sweaty and worn out, you hang up your safety goggles and call it a day.

- “So, what did you think? Another one of my twenty first century fads?”

He laughs, pulling you into his side and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“As far as your twenty first century fads go, I didn’t mind this one. And you look cute swingin’ a bat around. Maybe we should get you into T Ball.”

You shove at him with your shoulder, rolling your eyes - but you can’t fight the grin on your face.

- Neither of you can deny the way you’re both a little lighter on the way home. Not because you let go of any rage - but because you had fun.

 ⊹ 　 ✫ 　　 · 　　 ✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵  　.　 ✦ * 　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵ 　　　

masterlist. inbox.

[shirecorn]

Ohh, how I utterly ADORE all your worldbuilding ideas and thoughts on MLP!! Quick question, if that's alright by you... Applebloom has some noticeable FruitVamp features, do Applejack, Big Mac, and Granny Smith also have slight, vampire-esc features? Does their entire family line, due to the nature of their work, have a robust immunity to the maladies that the bats spread? Do they wear suits in highly infested areas to prevent bites, or do they go in unprotected because they're just that tough?

Vampire fruit bat virus

Most ponies know not to handle bats! Like humans it's common knowledge that you don't mess with bats. And if it isn't, you can contract rabies from a bite that doesn't even register while you're carrying a bat outside to release it. You can get rabies and not even know you're bitten. And then you die.

Fluttershy's friends trusted her animal handling skills to keep her unscathed, but even animal whisperers shouldn't handle bats without protection! So it's a tale of hubris.

Apple bloom just chased after bats because she wanted to see if bat wrangling was her life's calling. She was being a stupid kid and got bit.

Flim and Flam were tearing down trees that bats nested in, while the rest of the apple farmers would be more careful to make sure any critters cleared out first. They got attacked and flam caught the vamprus

Rainbow dash just went in there and started swingin

[landofadonises]

Adonis Sports Cup & Olympics Festival - Watersports

Everyone, tune in! September's here! The Adonis Sports Cup & Olympics Festival is everything male masculinity put to movement and action, dressed in the skimpiest uniforms allowed for the sport, for the sake of movement, of course! This is where we figure out just which set of adonises are the best of the best!

Today, we'll be covering the watersports category of this year's festival--classic swimming, water polo, and a more recent emergence, water wrestling, finally being played at the festival this time around! The council's quick!

The swimmers this year are looking lithe and ready to thrive--flaunting their massive stompers as they prepare in the steam room, laxing up before they get to swingin' and kickin'! Remember, folks, you're a few years too late if you think anyone with less than a size 74 shoe is getting into this tier of league--for our friends over the pond, that's a minimum of a 32-inch-long foot! The bigger the better, though, and this year, it looks like we're graced with our first size 97 swimmer, a flipper in its own category that's just shy of 40 inches long!

Water polo's up to bat next, folks, and these men with the boulder shoulders have the pool looking more like a quarry than anything else! Look no further for some Dorito™-shaped hunks, built to span the width of the pool just from three of them, and they've had to increase the width of the goal yet again this year, as these men just seem to keep getting wider! The council has also announced that, if trends continue, they'll have to reduce the player count on each team from the recently-changed 6 to 5 already, because they're running out of space in the pools! No good shoulder-checking your teammates every time you twist and turn! We've got shoulder spans checking in ranging from 3 ft 7 inches to 4 ft 9 inches, and forget about wingspans--we got tired of measuring and were getting a little too close to running out of tape measure!

And finally, welcome to the festival debut of water wrestling! A fan favorite for the longest in varsity and collegiate play, we have three weight categories established this year, and the council's got a sense of humour--hunk, beefcake, and titan! The rules are a bit changed from what you're all used to, though! Due to the size of some of these men, the objective has changed from just getting the other competitor fully-submerged... you've now got to get them to the outer fifth of their side of the pool! It should be an interesting watch, but from our point of view, not all-too-thought-out, since these titans are waist-level standing up in the pool! Seems like the council just wanted a splash zone that'd make SeaWorld weep! Stay tuned to witness these mass monsters grapple with each other relentlessly, muscles writhing, teeth gritting... and there's word that Alpha Dom has snuck its way into some of these competitor's bloodstreams, so let's all keep an eye out for the signature sign of drip-tap nips and bursting briefs!

[charleslee-valentine]

Flesh and Blood need Flesh and Blood

For the Texas Chainsaw Massacre Disability Pride Month event: Day 6- Underestimated

Word Count: ~3,100

Warnings: Blood and violence. Accidental killing. Period typical ableism & ableist language. Mild panic attacks. Domestic abuse. Religious aspects.

_________

“Take him home. Now, boy.” Drayton Sawyer barks in his middle brother’s face, keeping his yelling hushed to avoid causing a scene.

“Y-Yessir.” Nubbins, for his part, gives a nod and takes off running, only stopping when his clammy hands wrap around the handles of a wheelchair.

Franklin’s wheelchair.

It’ll be a long walk from here, takin’ the road shoulder all the way from the gas station to home, but Drayton’s got a mess to clean and customers to serve that oughta take priority over drivin’ the boys home. Couldn’t be arranged unless it was planned, and nothin’ about today had been goin’ in that sort of direction.

The boys were all together in the station’s yard, running not wheeling or wobbling to the best of their abilities. Using whatever toys they could scrounge together they’d made a game, pitchin’ crushed soda cans, wads of dry gum, a bouncy ball, and so so long as they could smack it around with a bat. Ain’t no objective, though eventually they started trying to catch each other’s swings.

Bubba’s only nine still and learnin’ to upkeep all the things he’d been taught. It’s harder work for him to retain things in his brain, so he stumbles when he walks and struggles to hold a fork at supper, but that’s just Bubba. Mangled little face and all, that’s the Sawyers’ kid brother and he’s goin’ to be included in their play.

Ain’t up to no yuppie scum t’ decide who’s doin’ what and where. Don’t stop them from sharin’ uncalled for opinions.

“That boy out there, you ought lock him up ‘fore someone gets hurt. Teenaged, child, whatever. Don’t matter to them like that. Those are freaks of nature, ‘n whatever they are, they’s goin’ ruin it all the same. Comin’ after the comfortable. You know what I’m sayin’.”

The man wouldn’t stop lecturing Drayton about allowing Bubba to play in the yard with his brother and a friend, like that was the worst option. Like he had any clue of when Mama was perfectly willing to let the state take Bubba for a price, just before her disappearance from the picture. Had a lot of nerve bein’ so ignorant out loud.

Well thing is, Franklin was playing batter, and the man was storming over to lecture here too, and Drayton wasn’t quick enough comin’ ‘round the counter to stop it, and he just reacted. Swing the bat.

Broke the man’s nose on the first swing, saw blood and panicked. Kept swingin’ and jabbing with the bat ‘til his instincts told him the threat was gone and he could stop. Just like swatting a bug.

Except a man’s skull was spilling its contents all over the ground, and nobody even said a word. Nubbins went straight to helping his big brother carry it, Bubba took the bat and ran it inside. The practiced nature of what they were doing, hiding the evidence, didn’t really occur to Franklin just yet. His mind was focused on the trouble he’d face from the law or his parents or even God for this, nevermind if the Sawyers didn’t care.

Now Nubbins is just pushin’ him along like it’s not an issue in the world, and Franklin can’t help but worry out loud, “Oh Lord, why’d I do that?”

“D-Do what?” Nubbins tilts his head and leans down into Franklin’s line of vision, slowing their forward progress from leaning on the wheelchair so heavily.

“You saw me! I killed that man!” Franklin’s voice cracks harshly, his cheeks tinging pink from the embarrassment of that, as if that’s worse than homicide.

But Nubbins straightens out some and casually reminds him, “He was mean.”

Franklin blinks away the surprise of his casual nature and sputters, “Lots of people are mean! But I hit him ‘cross the head with a steel bat! That’s mean too, dontcha think?”

“Nawh.”

“Naw?! Nubbins I'm goin’ to prison. I beat a guy to death and my fam’ly gonna hate me, they ain’t never gonna let me back! Not even God’s gonna want me, it’s gotta be a sin to kill another man. Oh Lord I’m goin’ to Hell Nubbins!”

With Nubbins behind him and nobody around for miles, Franklin won’t deny he started crying.

Nubbins shocks him out of it again with a curious comment, “Wh-What’s it like?”

“What’s what like?” Franklin sniffles, picking at his nails nervously.

His friend downright giggles, “Hell. What’s Hell l-like? I-I never been there.”

Sometimes he forgets the Sawyers aren’t of the faith, seeing it’s so common in his own life. Had to lie downright and tell his mama that they’re church goers alright, just a different sect so they’ll never see them on Sundays. Think he said they was witnesses or somethin’. Sometimes it felt like God was more important to them than even he was, a lonely child ignored for the sake someone they don’t even know’s grace.

Now ain’t the time to be doubtin’ his beliefs, so he sticks to them, and explains, “Hell is where the bad people go when they die.”

“You isn’t a.. a bad people. That other guy was. H-He was mean to Bubba. Anyone m-mean to Bubba gots to sp-splatter.” One of his hands comes down on the rubber lined handle of the wheelchair, making a dull thud that rattles Franklin’s bones. Almost worse than his comment, “H-He smashed up r-real good too, Frankie!”

“Oh God, I’m gonna be sick..” Franklin gets overwhelmed until it tightens in his stomach and feels funny in his throat. He covers his mouth, “You got a bag I could throw up in?”

Despite Franklin’s urgency, Nubbins sounds so casual, “Jus’ lean o-over.”

“My spine is paralyzed silly, I cain't just lean any way I wanna.” Correcting him works to calm Franklin down some at least, staying level headed so he don’t yell at Nubbins over forgetting a good excuse to breathe normal.

“Oh. I c-can help lean ya.” He offers patiently, impressive for Nubbins.

Franklin decides a few deep breaths’ll do. “It’s alright- No I don’t think I’m gonna be sick no more. It’s alright.”

“My sick lasts a.. a l-lot l-longer than that!” There’s something like admiration there in his voice. Like it’s got nothin’ to do with Epstein-Barr and it’s just some talent Franklin has that makes him feel better.

He laughs softly, “That’s ‘cause you got a condition.”

“Nuh-Uh.” Nubbins argues, even though it isn’t true.

“Oh, alright.” Franklin just agrees ‘cause that’s easier. And things are good for a while, pleasant. ‘Til his worries come out again and the reality of running away from murder with Nubbins sets in, “You think your brother is mad at me?”

“N-No. Not you. H-He don’ hit no o-outsiders.”

“I ain’t an outsider. I’m your best friend.”

Switching to pushing the wheelchair with only one hand, he shakes out the other, happy from hearing Franklin say that. Nubbins wants Franklin to be happy too, “That’s true. B-But.. I won’ let him hurt ya! I-I’ll take the beatin’. It’s no t-trouble.”

Somehow, that brings more dread into Franklin’s heart, “Critter, that don’t make me feel better.”

Not knowing a better way to settle it, Nubbins just shrugs and keeps down the path towards home, imitating buzzing car engines as they pass, or the crunch of Franklin’s wheels along the cracking road. Ain’t all that worried honestly for the crime scene they’re leaving behind.

That’s when Franklin remembers that the second he had swung the bat, Bubba got overwhelmed by the confrontation and run off towards home. Can tell he’s in there from the curtains being drawn up tight when he knows for certain they was open when he got dropped off this morning.

Nubbins seems to remember about the same and takes off jogging a little faster down the rest of the drive, shaking Franklin’s wheelchair around accidentally. He lets it slide since it’s a big brother’s concern for his sibling causing the rush and don’t ask him to slow down.

After dragging him backwards up the stairs, Nubbins shoves the door open and calls out, “B-Bubba, you home yet?”

If they’re quiet, they can both hear a quiet chuffing noise deep in the house somewhere, Bubba making noises like a pig to soothe himself.

“C’mon L-Leatherface, answer me if- if you’s here!” Nubbins raises his voice some impatiently while pulling Franklin inside after himself.

This time they get some babbling in response, and though Franklin wishes he understood the little Sawyer’s language, he’s not a master yet.

It’s a good thing Nubbins answers his question just fine, “Yeh, I-I got Frankie with me. You c-come out. I need- I need helps with supper.”

Out of the basement he emerges, no sign of the distress beyond an extra layer of clothes, a soft jacket he wears when he needs the comfort. Don’t know who it belonged to for it to be so large, hanging down past his curled up hands and almost to his knees, but he loves that thing. At some point, Franklin realized it was a woman’s robe and thought it might belong to his mother, but she’s a mystery to Franklin too.

“Cook gonna be o-ornery when he gets home, so’s I-I want you to help make s-somethin’ good!” Taking on the big brother role, Nubbins bosses him around, “Me ‘n F-Frankie, we gonna clean up and get- get the house nice, s-so you gonna cook!”

All together they get it presentable, sweeping the floors and wiping down the counters. Franklin is assigned to the dining room only since he’s never been in the kitchen, setting up a fancy table cloth and some plates. Never seen the place look so tidy before, wonders if they only do cleaning up for the holidays or guests.

Somehow it all feels like he’s preparing for the gallows, sentenced to a hanging the very moment Drayton gets home and subjects him to whatever punishment he’s got to face. An eye for an eye, killed by the same bat maybe? The police called on him and shooting him blank in the head when he cries. Hopefully not one of the oldest Saywer’s signature beatings, he’d almost rather one of the other choices.

He’s shaking like a leaf by the time Drayton cracks the door open, talking to them at a low tone ‘cause he knows they’d be close, not stupid enough to hide after this.

“Boys. Today’s uh- been a big day, huh?”

Draytons words trail off into a chuckle, but everyone else stays silence. Franklin gives a wet sniffle, on the verge of tears again.

Putting his hands on the back of the master chair, he leans forward and glances down the table, showing a crooked smile. “Supper don’t look too bad. Uh. I brought you uh- somethin’ down from the station-“

Over his shoulder, he gestures to a grocery bag he left by the door.

Nubbins starts bouncing in his seat, drumming his palms against the table, “I-Is it the beeve!?”

“Don’t you go ruinin’ the surprise!” Drayton kicks the seat of his chair, all that modest cheer melted into fury in the literal blink of an eye, “Did you tell him?!”

Franklin swallows thickly, “Tell me what, sir?”

“About the meat!”

“No.. I.. No sir. I don’t got a clue what you’re talkin’ about. Either of ya.”

“In that case-“ He goes off to retrieve the bag and brings it to the table, raising it up along with his eyebrows at the same time, nudging it forward until he unveils what’s inside. Butchered meat, it seems, but the third piece comes out with lightly burnt skin left on, and a tattoo. “Congratulations, Franklin! You’re one of us now!”

“My- My firstie t-time was a long time ago. You’s jus’ a l-late bloomer like Bubba!” Nubbins adds, clapping Franklin on his shoulder over and over, like he’s petting a dog.

Franklin who’s mouth has gone so dry he’s got to down half his whole glass of sweet tea, “You’re talkin’ about killin’.”

“Uh-huh! Mine was a.. Bank man! B-Bank man come to take Drayton’s truck away, h-he put his hands on me, a-an’ I slashed his ugly neck r-right open!” Nubbins excitedly imitates an over-exaggerated spraying of blood by pushing air between his teeth and making the splatter with his hands.

It’s amusing, but the gravity of what they’re telling him holds Franklin’s joy down deep inside, “I jus’ don’t understand why. I never known anybody in the whole world to be like this. Killers this way.”

“We gots to eat.” Clearly repeating what somebody else told him, Nubbins gives a noncommittal shrug, “D-Dogs in the world ‘an stuff, w-we gots to eat each other.”

Ah. So he is right about that. Drayton cooked up the man he killed on accident and brought it home as some kind of treat for the boys.

Franklin tries to avoid havin’ to do the act by bringing up his own condition, diabetes type one, “Surely that ain’t good for my blood sugar. I got that disease you know, makes my sugar go up and down and I gotta watch it real close-“

“B-B-But you been eatin’ it j-jus’ fine all this time!” Nubbins interrupts him.

That’s when it clicks. He’s been doin’ what they do. Gettin’ so close to the Sawyers, the town loonies, was gonna end in somethin’ like this he s’posed. Everyone who said he’d always be a weak little baby, well they just didn’t know that he had it written in the stars he was gonna be a killer.

“Sally said the meat tasted rotten.” He comments vaguely, realizin’ he really is special this time.

Nubbins scoffs, never the biggest fan of Sally. “Sh-She would.”

“Oh hush. You aren’t to lay a hand on her, you hear?” Franklin scolds, but it’s just gently, just to make sure he isn’t doin’ the wrong thing by sittin’ at this table and not running.

Well, wheeling. He’d probably not outwheel Nubbins’ run, even if he’s got the arm strength to cave in a human skull.

“Never ever.” Making a cross over his heart, Nubbins declares it to him, “I swears, o-on my s-sick Granny.”

Dead granny. Franklin knows the woman ain’t still kickin’ no matter how much Nubbins insists she is. Though with this revelation he’s goin’ through lately, it prob’ly ain’t a lie that she’s in the upstairs of their house.

“Jesus. Well alright.”

The rest of the agreement is eat the evidence of his crime with the boys, then he’s free to go home. Seems so simple, it gets Franklin’s heart just pounding in his chest.

“I don’t.. Gotta keep up the killin’ now, do I?” He asks, on his way out to get driven back next door.

“Wouldn’t imagine.” Drayton is the only one out here yet while Nubbins runs around like a madman packing back up a bag of toys he’d scattered all around, forgetting Franklin wouldn’t get to stay forever.

“And I’m allowed to go home?” Franklin keeps asking, sounding feeble and scared.

This time he gets a scoff, like he should find that obvious, “Don’t do kidnappin’. Never let the boys keep one longer than a single night. After that- Lights out.”

One more, “And you really won’t hurt my family?”

“Not the girl, anyhow. No promises on your old man.” Drayton cackles, downright, like some kind of witch.

Franklin knows the bastard ain’t kind, certainly not to his own uncle Lefty or his wife, or actually his kids now that he thinks about it, but he’s not sure his Daddy deserves death over that. “That ain’t funny.”

“Wasn’t joking.” The oldest Sawyer assures him, cold smile dropping away again. “Siblings, they mean a lot more to the heart. You’ll understand that someday way I do.”

He extinguishes the cigarette he’d been smoking right in Franklins face by crushing it against a window sill, “That’s your little sister an’ I’ll respect it. Not a hair outta place on little Sally’s head.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“In exchange for that you keep your damn yap shut.”

Eagerly, to show he ain’t gonna two time, Franklin nods his head, “Yes sir! This stays between me and y’all and the Lord.”

He gets a disgruntled comment under Drayton’s breath that he doesn’t even hear, “Shit, you’re jus’ like your uncle, boy.”

His faith been tested today, but he oughta lean into it while he can. Keep himself from goin’ completely off the edge. Somehow the Sawyers seem to have managed that much, though, like Drayton said, they’ve got each other. God is so far away, nothin’ at all like a sibling he can hate or hold in his arms, depending on the day.

God severs the spine of a little baby and leaves him to die with prayers and prayers from his family that never quite reached him. Little babies grow up into boys in wheelchairs, who can’t even eat a handful of sweet berries without his body threatening to give up on him. Grow into killers, given the right support. Ain’t gotta let himself lose now.

Drayton seems to hear all that thinkin’ somehow, some twisted way of his, and goes back on his word on the truck drive. He waves Franklin away, “Go on and get. Nubbins’ll get ya back home. Tell ‘em I needed your help handin’ me tools down the station and lost track of time. They’ll believe that.”

A test of will or an alibi, he ain’t quite sure, but he nods his head. Just one thing he’s worried about, “If they don’t?”

“You tell me. We’ll do what needs done.” Drayton says it like it’s simple, and clenches one hand, bringing it up in the air and then back down. Franklin realizes he’s miming stabbing someone or beatin’ ‘em with a hammer.

“Um… Thank you Mr. Drayton. For not killing me too.” They both flinch when Nubbins finally slams the door open so hard it clatters against the wall, earning him a quick slap before they can continue on their way. “Um. Goodnight, sir.”

Halfway down the trail, Nubbins glances back at the shrinking house light.

“You scared of big brother, a-ain’t ya?”

“A little.” Franklin confesses.

Makes him a little sad when Nubbins whispers, “Me t-too..”

It’s them two that’re bonded. Theres bad on both sides, from a rotten temperament to a lack of care, to stuck up Sally and mean old Drayton. His home is with his best friend, in his heart, just as Sawyer as any of the others. That’s his comfort for a long time, knowing he’s capable, got backup when he needs it, and a dead body under his belt. Ain’t no invalid.

[pluto-supremacy]

Can I add to the Hobie dating an autistic person ideas based on my experiences? I'm autistic, my girlfriend isn't but neither of us would be shocked if she was.

Hobie understands that he has to be ultra specific when asking or explaining something to you. He can't be vague about it and say something will take a while, he knows you prefer a specific time.

He finds your stimming cute as fuck, but he's learned quickly to step out the way when you do stim lest he wants to be in the line of fire and accidentally get hit.

Same applies with hands. You gesture a lot with your hands and it gets more animated and crazy when you're excited and you wave then about. The cutest shit ever, not so much when you're eating or prepping food and you have a knife in your hand. A gentle reminder that its okay to stim, but maybe not with a knife or something stabby or fragile in your hand is all that's needed.

Yes, you and Hobie are on the same page 99 percent of the time, but occasionally there'll be miscommunication and what he says and means will be different to what you thought it meant. This is based on me and my girlfriend a few weeks ago. I suggested we "chill out" in her room, hoping she gets the hint. We go to her room and literally chill out whilst watching Bluey. Many laughs and kisses after, it was adorable

Hobie Brown Drabble: cooking rambles with a gn!autistic!reader

➼ I absolutely love these additions to the headcanons! I also talk a lot with my hands and at work and when I’m cooking that includes gesturing with very sharp knives, so- yeah I’m forcing that on our beloved gn!reader. Enjoy this little Drabble based on some of your lovely additions!

➼ I swear I did try my best on the accent-

➼ Sorry that this took a bit longer than I promised! Work has been kicking my ass

➼ No beta we die like uncle Aaron

➼ No warnings! Just fluff here

GIF doesn't belong to me! All credits to the original owner

You treasured nights like these, nights when Hobie wasn’t needed back at Spider HQ. Or just decided not to go. Either way, you enjoyed just being able to lounge around in your shared flat together, bitch about coworkers, turn on a cheesy movie, or your favorite: cook together. Nothing beat a homemade meal in Hobie’s opinion, he just…wasn’t the best at cooking. Wasn’t terrible either, more middle of the road, so he usually stuck to stirring and prepping the vegetables.

Tonight’s menu was grilled cheeses and tomato soup, some nice comfort food. Hobie was buttering up the pan for the sandwiches while you were chopping up some onions, going on about your day. “So then I’m at the counter just trying to ring up her order. Something complicated because of course she just couldn’t have the drinks how they come, each has at least three modifications” you rambled on. You always talked with your hands, gesturing wildly that you sometimes hit people. This was no different.

Apart from the fact that this time you had a knife in your hands.

“Like she wanted no whip on this one, double whip on that one, sprinkles on the other other one” you listed off, tapping the tip of the blade against your fingers without a second thought. Hobie was of course listening, but he had his back turned. At least it was until his Spidey-sense went off. But what could be causing danger-?

Cue you still gesturing with the knife, none the wiser that Hobie, who was once by the stove, had webbed up onto the ceiling and was standing there like a bat. Your eyes had been trained down as you went on. “I was losing my mind! I wanted to scream!” You raised your hands in frustration, and when you lowered them, the knife was gone and in its place? A wooden spoon. “What-?”

“Sorry luv, but I can’t ‘ave you swingin’ that ‘round. Can’t ‘ford a trip to the hospi’al” Hobie said, still hanging upside down on the ceiling but now with your stolen knife in hand. “I fancy ya a bi’ too much to let you ‘urt yourself.”

You could only laugh, setting the spoon down as Hobie finally jumped off of the ceiling, spinning around to land on his feet. “I didn’t even realize I was doing it” you replied, holding your hand out to get the knife back. He shot you a mock skeptical look before handing it back over, now sitting on the counter. “‘S alright swee’heart. Now watch where you’re cu’ing. I wan’ you ta keep all your fingers” he hummed out lowly, watching you get back to work. He always loved watching you talk with your hands and when you would stim, sometimes he just needed to step in to keep everyone safe. Anything for his luv.

[osleeplessflowero]

Stress Relief: A Fell!Sans & Reader Oneshot

// content warning for smoking, swearing, and violence

The air isn't too warm or too cold. The sun shines brightly in the sky above, patiently waiting for sunset to arrive so it can rest.

You sit on the back of Fell's motorcycle, your arms around him to make sure you don't fall as he drives through the streets.

"ya alright back there?" "Yeah, I'm good." "awful quiet." "Just don't really feel like talking, 's all." "i gotcha. well, you won't need to do much talkin' where we're goin' anyway." "Where are we going, exactly?" "well, i know you've been goin' through a lotta stress recently, and i tend to go here when i wanna blow off some steam, so i figured i'd bring you here for a change."

You raise your brow curiously at that, as he parks in front of what appears to be a junkyard.

"A junkyard, huh?" "yup. best place to break a bunch of shit without worryin' about the consequences. it's also a pretty good place to look for parts." "Fair enough."

You slide off the motorcycle, and after Fell makes sure it's in a good spot, he gets off of it as well.

You look around as you walk, Fell shortcutting up next to you since he didn't want to be left behind.

"if you wanna let out some of your frustrations, i'm sure you can find somethin' around here to break shit with." "Noted-" You look around out of curiosity before finding a conveniently placed bat, looking for something to break.

You spot some cans that were left behind, knocking them around, before turning to an incredibly damaged car. Fell leans on another car, against the hood, deciding to have a small smoke break. A bit of red smoke floats through the air off of his cig.

You take a deep breath, thinking of what's been bothering you recently, and how it affects you. Raising the bat, you begin hitting the car. The angrier you get, the harder your hits are. You just keep swinging, imagining the car as a manifestation of what's been causing you pain.

"fuck that car up! keep swingin'!"

You smile a little, amused by his cheering, before returning to anger, hitting the car again, then moving to some other breakable objects. You can understand why Fell does this type of stuff, it's quite helpful in a way. You proceed hitting what you can as hard as you can, even screaming a bit as you do so. Fell supporting you through it all.

"feel a little better?" "Yeah..it helped me a bit. You come here often? That car was pretty banged up even before I started hitting it." "yeah, it's a place i know i can be alone." He drops his cig on the ground, stomping on it. "'s pretty good for ventin' without anybody bein' around to hear, y'know?" "I gotcha." You walk over to him, and he gestures for you to follow him. You walk with him over to a small empty storage building, climbing up a ladder and sitting on top of it, dangling your legs off the side with Fell sitting beside you as the sun sets.

It's quiet for a bit, with the exception of music playing from a radio that was left behind in the background.

"i may not be good with all the emotions shit, but i know what it's like to have a lotta stress, and a lotta weight on your shoulders." "Yeah..shit sucks." You laugh a little, your voice still a bit shaky from earlier. "i definitely know that." He smiles sadly, and you move a bit closer to him, putting your head on his shoulder. You both stare at the sky as the orange, purple, and blue shades mix together like a painting as the sun continues to set.

"if ya need to come back here again, let me know, i'll come with ya." "Alright. I might need to.."

He moves his skull a bit, resting his head on yours as well as putting his hand over your own which was resting beside him.

"the world's shitty, but at least we don't have to go through it alone." "Yeah, I guess you're right about that."

The sun finally sets, and the moon rises, greeting the both of you with its presence, the stars slowly coming into view too.

"..Thanks for being here." "of course, don't gotta thank me for that. i wanna be here." You simply smile at that response, closing your eyes.

(now available on Ao3, using Red as Fell's nickname:)

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