#( tw: drug use )

[hmyrine]

on everyone's soul this is what happened

[machinecatgirl]

ELECTROCHEMISTRY

[comatosebunny09]

— cw: drug use, brief talk about dying, comfort, bad trip, you’re high af and sylus is your babysitter

“Sylus?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“I love you.”

He chuckles, thumb cruising over the skin of your wrist. His chin notched in the crown of your head, he rasps, “I know you do.”

“No, like, seriously. I love you.”

“I’m well aware. You’ve told me at least 30 times in the last hour.”

You shift, slowly blinking like you’re moving through syrup. Your head swirls, a smile creeping onto your lips at a sluggish pace. “I’ll tell you a thousand more.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighs. “Sweetie, what exactly did you take?”

“Dunno. It had a skull and bones on it, though.”

He gives you a look. One of furrowed brows and exasperation. “I’m not letting you buy anything from shady smoke shops ever again.”

“Deal.”

Sylus laughs something low, rubbing up and down your arm. You nuzzle into the safety his chest provides, the world around you churning. “Sylus,” you call against closed eyes.

“Mmhmm.”

“What if I die tonight?”

Snort. “Sweetie, you’re not going to die.”

“I know, but…what if I do?”

“I won’t let you. I’ll drag you down from the heavens myself.”

“Who says I’m going to heaven?”

He’s quiet, genuinely thinking it over. “Fair point.”

You whack him on the chest, and he chuckles because it’s half-hearted.

“I don’t feel so good, Sy.” The edible’s slowly cresting from its peak, but you’re still teetering over that thin line between sobriety and lucidity.

He holds you tight on the bed until you’re practically cradled in his lap. “Try sleeping it off.”

“I’m scared to. So sleepy but I don’t wanna sleep.”

“It’s alright, sweetheart. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Promise?” you ask, your voice husky and weighted with exhaustion.

“Promise.”

You believe him and sink further below the surface, letting sleep wash over you in waves and eventually pull you under.

[moxtoons]

Just two ghouls who like big hats, frock coats, and chems.

[scottishaccentsareawesome]

Jason(who is high):...They say if you play this backwards you can hear the voice of a dead kid. Dick(also high): Whoa...wait, how do you play Monopoly backwards?

[niiwa-angel]

Unique reactions to painkillers, as seen in the Autobot Medbay.

Bumblebee: Decided he didn't want to be in the medbay anymore, wandered off without anyone noticing, which was a feat in and of itself. Got lost on the way to his chambers, found a storage unit with a bare berth in it, curled up on it, and went into such a deep recharge he didn't respond to his comms. The base went into total lockdown trying to find him.

Mirage: Kept turning invisible when Hoist was trying to treat him. It's still up for debate whether it was intentional or not, Hoist says it was, Mirage insists it wasn't.

Jazz: Sobbed for an hour straight about how he'd never be able to play his instruments again, what with two broken legs. *Ratchets note, none of said instruments require functional feet. His hands were fine*

Red Alert: built a fort under his berth to hide from people. Screamed when First Aid tried to pull back their blankets to talk to him.

Optimus Prime: Turned into a truck in the middle of Medbay. Refused to turn back.

Prowl: loudly berated "whoever wrote this dismal report" from his berth. *Hoists note, it was a copy of a human novel "The Fault in our Stars" and that was only given to him so he'd stop trying to leave*

Sideswipe: Kept trying to drag himself out of the Medbay to "kick con aft" *First Aids note, he had a broken leg and a mild concussion, he wasn't kicking anything*

Sunstreaker: high shared through the split spark bond, not as intense as his brother's. Lifted BOB up to the wall so he could 'understand it'. BOB did not appreciate it.

Bluestreak: Kept throwing balls of paper at other bots to "prove he could aim while high".

[gearbroth]

didn’t plan on posting this really ever sdjkfha but today’s an excuse so whatever

[happy-lemon]

It's not a habit, it's cool, I feel alive. If you don't have it, you're on the other side. I'm not an addict, maybe that's a lie. ~ K's Choice, 1999

[milesmarek]

I rewatched days of future past and I realized charles fucking fiending over the serum flew over my head as a 12 year that it was a reference to heroin usage in the 70's.

Also I had to explain to my mother the extravagant details of cherik and how they act like a divorced couple to which she said "god forbid if two guys be friends" and when I said both sets of actors like cherik, she decided it's gay as fuck

[revehae]

i’m not asking you to write for wonbin but if you ever do js know i wiillllll be there !

yall have finally did it yall have won yall have Cracked me i hope youre happy bc i kinda am… i had this idea before he cut his hair now im feeling like that one harry styles fan tweet and i don’t even stan fr

warnings: drug use, addiction, is this dubcon idk

wc. 670

dealer!wonbin x (f) rich!reader.

wonbin knew you wouldn’t turn down his offer. not in the state that you were in, moody and tense as ever. the girl he’d seen around here and there at parties hadn’t come back around, not since he’d first seen her bump a line or two, and she’d been replaced by you.

what you had become over the months, at least.

not that wonbin would have it any other way. he liked having you kind of dependent on him, knowing he was the first person crossing your mind when you needed a fix. but the brief interactions, meeting you at a party or somewhere shady at night, your car window rolling up as quickly as it had gone down, weren’t enough anymore.

“no.”

“no?” you repeated, like the entitled, spoiled rich girl you really were deep down. wonbin had to give you credit, you cloaked it well, but when you were desperate, you showed your true colors. “what do you mean no?”

wonbin grinned playfully, in a way that he knew would aggravate you. “i mean, i set everything aside for my buddy, and i don’t have enough for you right now.”

you rubbed your nose and ran a finger through your hair, exhaling exasperatedly. “well, tell him to wait. i need it more than he does! is he paying you? i’ll pay you twice as much!”

there you went, offering him your pocket money, throwing it away like it was nothing just for a second of your high. but wonbin didn’t need your money. selling cocaine to recklessly needy addicts like yourself was a very lucrative business.

he shook his head. “sorry, that’s not gonna cut it. but i thought of something better.”

you were in the middle of losing what was left of your mind when wonbin said that and your eyes immediately snapped back to him, fixed to him before he could even get the words completely out.

“i’ll give you two grams if you let me fuck you,” wonbin said casually, a wild grin tugging at his lips. “six grams if you let me do it raw.”

you were a little reluctant at first, but wonbin wasn’t surprised when you finally caved, thinking to himself, that was too damn easy.

because he was nice, wonbin let you snort a line before he touched you, but he was on top of you not a second later. in spite of that, he didn’t move like he was in any particular hurry, snaking a hand up your shirt and pressing his lips against your lips. then your neck, your collarbone, your belly. almost affectionately, almost.

it started to work you up quickly, and you even got annoyed, tugging at his hair, but wonbin didn’t care. matter of fact, he could feel his body getting hotter, burning a thousand degrees. he wanted to savor every second of you, every touch of you, every smell of you.

wonbin really liked the smell of you. the sweet scent helped masked the madness underneath when you were like this. he leaned in to sniff your hair, your neck, your clothes, your hands.

it made his dick twitch in his pants and he couldn’t control himself anymore, yanking it free so that he could steer himself between your open, inviting legs, moaning shakily and blowing his hair out of his eyes as he pushed into you. 

knowing that only a few months ago, your dignity would have never let you consent to something like this, wonbin almost felt bad. he may have sold the drugs, but he never touched them otherwise. too many people he had seen wind up like you, selling themselves out for a moment of ecstasy.

but he wasn’t so different. your cunt squeezed and throttled the life out of his cock. sweat was the reason your body clung to his. you were muttering his name, dragging red lines down his back with your fingernails. and for the time being, there was nothing wonbin wouldn’t do for his moment of ecstasy.

[pierpointco]

RR: Like a bat up your nightdress.

[xstarkillerx]

Rail

TW: Drug usage

Drabble based on this ask.

Dom toretto x fem!reader x Brian O'Conner

hop hop 🐇

Long, fat, red at the tip, Dom Toretto's cock is hot in your hands. The heady scent of musk, of body, of a long day working the garage and even longer night putting that RX-7 to work fills your lungs as you rail the line he so graciously laid for you on it. He's got one of his massive hands on your head, heavy, warm, thumb stroking your head affectionately while your swipe your nostrils, eyes squeezed shut at the momentary discomfort. On the other couch is Brian, eyes furrowed, keeping cautious, never really able to drop the cop in him that's ready to jump in if he needs to. He's got a half-smoked blunt burning away in his hand that has him too high to not be laced with something. Despite himself, despite the bizarre circumstance, Brian's fucking hard too.

"That good?" Dom asks, and with powder still on your nose. You look up at him with those pretty eyes like that line wasn't enough and you can squeeze more outta him if you're sweet enough about it. He gives a fond half-smile, his little fucking junkie. Dom swipes at your nose, collecting the powder with his thumb like a father with a snotty child. He does the same with the residue on his cock before invading your lips with the large digit and spreading it on your gums. Your tongue chases it, already feeling the way it makes the thin skin tingle. He watches your pupils change, watches the coke kick in and, fuck, that's the part that always gets him, makes his dick twitch. Corruption. Corruption and pretty young girls who just just can't help but look up to him, trust him, let him lead them astray. He remembers Letty, the way she watched him down the street her whole life, wanted nothing more than to get Dom's attention until she learned this was what you need to do to get it. She had that same look in her eye that first time, wild, hungry fucking ready to go. He's a sucker for it.

Your skin is hot, your heart is racing, you feel like you can fly. You shove Dom's cock in your mouth and almost too eagerly and swallow him down your throat, earning a hiss from Dom through gritted teeth. You can't see it but Dom's looking at Brian and suddenly you're a prop, a toy, like all the other pretty things he uses to get his rocks off. The air is thick between them, scored by the wet gagging sounds of your throat. Tears well up in your eyes when Dom starts fucking your face, hips moving off the couch to shove it deeper down your throat and back out again, you grasp at his thighs for purchase. Brian and Dom are locked in eye contact, Brian is breathing heavy, fingers twitching to to free his cock from his boxers but his limbs feel heavy and sluggish.

Gasping and drenched in your own spit, Dom pulls you off his cock before he cums and uses what saliva you left on it to jerk himself off. "Where'd you want it?" His voice is low, slurred with lust and his own cocktail of chemicals in his system. He doesn't normally ask you this, you know he likes coating your face, likes the mess it makes, the way your features skew when you try to keep it out of your eyes. The question wasn't for you. He isn't even looking at you.

Brian blinks slowly, his head tingles with every movement and his eyes are heavy. "Tits." he says simply through his laboured breathing. Dom complies, and Brian's hips twitch at the sight of your pretty chest coated in his cum.

Desperate to take back the attention of the room you stand from where you were kneeling and lean in and capture Dom's lips in a sloppy kiss, the spit on your face smearing against his skin. You can't help but whine at the feeling of his warm tongue against your own. His fingers find your cunt and he isn't gentle about it; rough and thick he spreads your wetness before shoving them inside. You whine and are forced onto your tip-toes for a moment. Dom breaks the kiss.

"Look at him." he says, directing your gaze over at Brian who can't take his eyes off of you. He's since pulled the waist of his boxers down below his cock and is stroking it, slow, easy, shiny with the spit he shot into his own hand to slick it. "Go on." Your attention is brought back to Dom. "This pussy's greedy, I can feel it. You wanna get fucked? Go on." He slides his fingers out and sticks them in your mouth before sending you across the room to Brian who sits up out of his slouched posture to make more room for you on the couch. You straddle him, knees on either side of his waist and wait for him to guide his cock into position before you sink down on it, and christ, it's almost too much. The coke has your nerves on fire, the entrance alone was enough to get you moaning, but his voice, god his voice, the sound he makes when you get your pussy on him is what heaven must sound like.

"Fuck." he breathes, head spinning, every limb in his body tingling and sensitive, for someone who was so quiet before, he can't seem to shut up now, groaning and whining with every movement you make. It's a slow and easy fuck, too lost in the feeling of your pussy being filled to wanna rush it. Brian fills you up just right, hitting a spot inside you that makes you double over and grab the backrest behind him just to stay upright, it puts your cum-coated tits in his face which he happily sucks on until they're clean, sore and purple. Your orgasm rolls in slow, with the promise of hitting like a giant wave, full body, and it makes you go faster to chase it. Brian is barely containing himself, hands at your waist, staring up at your pretty face while he does everything he can to hold onto his orgasm until you find yours. It's the way you clench when you're close that sends him over, he cums just before you do, enough to where you get the pleasure of hearing his ragged voice cry out while you fuck down on his now sensitive cock. His body is limp, like all life has left it, shot into your body with the cum that's oozing out of your cunt.

Sweaty, placid, hoping for another line you look behind you at Dom who's already making his way over to the couch you share with Brian. He sits down and pulls you in for another dirty kiss, right there, while Brian's still got his cock in you, and with the guidance of Dom's hand, Brian forms a half-tight fist on Dom's cock to stroke it until he cums again. You clean it off of his fingers when he does.

🐇 hop hop

[jennaispunk]

Save Me

Summary: A professional rejection leads Dieter down a dark path. Can he find his way back?

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x f!reader

Word Count: 2k

Tags/Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, worry, drug use, mentions of abusive childhood (Dieter), mention of Dieter being a bit of an asshole (but he loves reader), two people in love who are just trying to figure it out. Internal dialogue is in italics. No physical description of reader is given. The photos in the moodboard are for aesthetic only.

A/N: This is for @bitchesuntitled sober Dieter challenge. I’m so proud of you, bb!! 💜💜 This story was inspired by Save Me by Jelly Roll. If you haven’t heard it, go listen right now. It’s an amazing song that really captures the reality of addiction.

Somebody save me, me from myself

I’ve spent so long living in hell….

Dieter groans loudly and shields his eyes. Why is it so bright in here? Where the fuck am I? He didn’t even know what day it was or how long he’d been there. His throat feels like it’s been sandblasted. There’s no clear memory of how he ended up here. He falls off the couch and stumbles to the bathroom, his head still spinning. Swiping his hand down his face, he looks at his reflection. He doesn’t even recognize the person staring back at him. This must be what rock bottom feels like. He supposed this was bound to happen; he’d always been one for self-sabotage. He had the girl of his dreams, more money than he knew what to do with but somehow, he’d managed to fuck it all up. He’d been able to brush off rejection before, but this one felt personal. That role was going to make his career. His father’s words kept ringing in his head, taunting him. An actor? You can pretend all ya want…you’ll always be a loser, kid. Don’t come crawling back home when it doesn’t work out. He chuckled darkly. That lousy old man never believed in him, but he sure had his hand out when the first big check came in.

He thought he had it all under control. He’d managed to keep his drug use to a minimum for months. He’d been so determined to change, and you’d been such a big help with that. You were the supportive presence he needed, always there to talk him down off the ledge.

He whispers your name to his reflection. The acrid tang of bile hits the back of his throat. You must be worried sick. He’s surprised you weren’t blowing up his phone. Dead. Ah fuck, this is bad. He said some awful things to you, and he wouldn’t be surprised if you’d packed your shit and gotten as far away as you could. He deserves all that and more for what he’s done.

Three days…That’s how long it’s been since Dieter slammed the door as he walked out. The rattle still echoes in your head as you sit on the overstuffed couch in your shared penthouse apartment. You’d never seen him so angry. He wasn’t the type to yell or get overly upset about anything. You knew it was the drugs and depression talking, but that didn’t make his words hurt any less. You knew his demons; he’d shown you the parts of him he kept hidden from the rest of the world. He told you about his shitty childhood, how his father had been emotionally abusive to him and his mother, and how he struggled with depression. There had been times when he’d disappear for a day, but he always came back to you. He never left you overnight without a word.

You stare at your phone willing it to ring. God, please let him be okay. You can feel him slipping further away from you every minute he’s gone. All you need is to hear his voice, to know that he isn’t hurt or worse, but all you get is silence…and it’s deafening. You’ve called anyone that you think might know something. The answer is always the same: I haven’t heard from him. I’m sure he’s fine. You know Dieter, don’t worry so much. The thing was, they didn’t really know Dieter at all. They knew the chaotic, free spirit who was always down for a good time. They didn’t know the parts of him he only let you see.

Looking back on it now, you should have seen it coming. This last rejection really hurt him. You knew how bad he wanted that part. It was going to be a game changer for him, his chance to prove to Hollywood that he was a serious actor and that was all torn to shreds when they went with another actor. At first, he been able to brush it off, but as the days wore on you could see how much it affected him.

It started with little things: sleeping in late, changes in his appetite. Then he started snapping at you. He’d yell at you for the littlest things. One time it was so bad that you hid in the bathroom and cried. It all culminated with his drug use getting out of control. He had been doing so well up until that point. He hadn’t touched any hard drugs in months, just the occasional smoke or edible, mostly when he was painting. When you came home three days ago to find cocaine sprinkled over the coffee table, you confronted him and that’s when everything went to hell. You argued, he screamed at you and then he left.

You were so worried about him that you’d barely eaten or slept. You drove around the streets of LA, stopping at some of his old hangouts hoping to find him. The only thing keeping you from calling the police is that you don’t want the press to somehow find out that he was missing. That would be a disaster for his career, and he would never forgive you for that.

Tears prick at your eyes as you check your phone for the millionth time. He hasn’t called or texted and no one has sent word that they’ve heard from him. Your chest feels tight, it’s harder to get air in your lungs. The longer he is gone, the more likely it is that something terrible has happened to him. You can’t take not knowing any longer and dial the number to the local police station, your shaking thumb hovering over the send button.

Your eyes snap up as the door to the apartment opens. Dieter walks in and you gasp softly.

“Dee!”

You rush to him and throw your arms around his neck. Tears leak from your eyes as you hold him close to you. He stands like a statue in your grip making no move to wrap his arms around you.

“I’m so glad you came home.” You whisper in his ear.

He’s shocked that you’re still here. His throat is dry, and he swallows hard. How does he even begin to apologize? Forgiveness isn’t something he deserves.

The sickly sweet mixture of vomit and whiskey hits your nostrils, and you slowly pull away from him. Your jaw drops, as you notice just how awful he looks. Disheveled clothing and extra messy hair make the dark circles under his eyes stand out even more. A small cut adorns his forehead, the dried blood crusted to his skin.

“I’m sorry, babe.” he croaks through chapped lips. It’s weak, a piss poor apology for what he put you through, but that’s the best he can do right now.

Your heart felt like it was in a vice grip. Nothing would have prepared you for this. The stories that you heard of his past pale in comparison to reality. This is not the man you fell in love with. The man in front of you is broken and defeated. He’d never let himself get this down before, at least not since he’d met you. That was all in the past. What has he done to himself?

“It’s okay, baby.” You coo softly. “We don’t have to talk about it right now. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You take his hand and lead him to the bathroom. You simultaneously thank and curse every deity you can think of. The man you love has been reduced to a shell of himself and you’re not exactly sure how to help him. The last thing you want to do is make this worse, comforting him is your only goal now.

He’s completely silent as you turn on the shower. You strip him of his dirty clothes as the steam fills the room. The first thing you need to do is get him clean and get him some sleep. The serious conversation you need to have can wait until morning.

You undress yourself and guide him under the hot water. The water cascades over the two of you and you smile at him, hoping to assure him that everything is fine. You encourage him to tilt his head back to wet his hair. You scrub his hair, massaging his scalp with loving care. After rinsing the shampoo from his hair, you scrub his scruffy beard to remove the bits of dried vomit stuck there. Next, you wash his body with slow, gentle strokes. You can only hope this shower is comforting for him, he’s devoid of emotion right now. The soapy suds slide down his body and onto the shower floor as you feel him start to finally relax just a bit. If it were only that easy to wash away his hurt and his pain. You bite back your tears as you turn off the water. He doesn’t need to see you cry right now; he needs you to be strong for him.

His jaw twitches as you guide him from the shower. I’ve royally fucked up; how can she forgive me for this? He really went off the deep end this time and he knows it. His last act of love will be to make you save yourself; to give you an out so he doesn’t ruin your life too. He’s done enough damage.

“You should go…” he says softly. “I’m a lost cause. I’m just going to drag you down with me.”

Your brow furrows. Leaving was not an option for you. You were in this for the long haul, and you weren’t going to let him push you away. There was no way in hell you were walking out.

“I’m not going anywhere, babe. You’re stuck with me.”

Tears well in his eyes and he crushes you to his chest. He holds onto you like his life depends on it, a desperate act of a drowning man.

You silently wrap your arms around his waist, your own feeble attempt to anchor him, to let him know that he’s not alone. You’ll be there every step of the way, but you can’t save him; He has to be the one to save himself.

His shoulders bounce as he silently sobs. He murmurs apologies into your hair over and over again, tears streaming down his face. “I need help… please help me. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

You silently thank every God or spirit you can think of. He’s asking for help and you’re going to do everything in your power to get him whatever he needs.

“Shhhh, it’s okay.” You whisper. “I’m going to help you, baby.”

You guide him to the bed and help him lay down, encouraging him to lay his head on your chest. Unshed tears prick your eyes as you try to find the right words to say to soothe him.

“Sleep now.” You murmur as you stroke his hair. “We’ll figure everything out in the morning.”

The quiet hangs heavy between you; his occasional heavy breath punctuating the silence. His asking for help was only the first step of a long journey. Nothing was going to be fixed overnight; you couldn’t just snap your fingers and make all of this go away no matter how badly you wished you could.

He knew just how big of a mess he’d made of things. Storming out on you like that and going on a binge was a horrible mistake. It was going to take work to fix this, but he had to do it, for himself and for you.

“Please don’t give up on me.”

His whispered plea shatters your heart into a thousand pieces. You clear your throat to choke back your tears.

“I won’t ever give up on you, Dee.” you whisper as you wrap your arms around him even tighter.

“I love you too much to quit on you now. Don’t give up on yourself.”

He lets out a shaky breath. Too many people had given up on him in the past, written him off without giving him a chance, but not you. He’s so grateful that you want to stick around. He doesn’t know if he could do this without you.

“I love you, too.”

He had a long road ahead and it scared the shit out of him. Could he finally get sober after so many slip ups? Honestly, he didn’t know but he was going to try, whether that meant rehab or outpatient treatment, whatever it took. He was going to try like hell to be the man he wanted to be, for himself and for you.

[harveywritings92]

Sole, to Hancock: Do you have any skeletons in your closet?

Hancock, takes a hit of jet: You mean literally or figuratively?

Sole: Honestly, the fact that I have to specify...

[why-i-love-comics]

Poison Ivy/Swamp Thing: Feral Trees #1 (2024)

written by G. Willow Wilson art by Mike Perkins & Mike Spicer

[crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf]

Thank @feral-ferrule for reminding me of this little aside. Now ya'll gotta deal with it.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Dosing the Batch Boys: (Glitterstim)

In Disgrace (ch3) Crosshair and Tah'nyem are dosed with Glitterstim, a psychoactive variant of spice made by the spiders that live in the caves of Kessel. It lets you read minds...This results in their minds slamming together in new an confusing ways, which is fun for their chapter but it even occurs to them that it might be even funner in bed, let's explore that a little.

Though glitterstim is canon it's underutilized and definitely not utilized the way that I do, so this is very HC based. We're also going to assume that the drug doesn't affect the health of the boys in anyway. (Echo, sweetie I worry about you other wise.)

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Hunter-

I think what would get Hunter off the most about being in your brain is the complete confirmation that all of your praise is genuine. All the boys might be surprised at just how attracted clonethirst girlies are to them but Hunter is particularly susceptible to the flattery of it. Ego boosted, the next aspect he would utilize is the direct feedback for how pleasurable his actions were. You'd probably not get to actively participate as much because he would get wrapped up in feeling what heights he could drive you to.

Wrecker-*let me in meme goes here*

What is going on in there? I can only imagine Wrecker's brain being a kind of messy place, sparks flying back and forth, complex equations drawn in crayon... What would be hot about it is just how overwhelmed with his emotions you would get. With practice he might be able to hold back but without it your brain is getting flooded. Joy, exuberance, and of course the sexual pleasure on a feedback loop. Actually, don't do this with Wrecker, you two are gonna fry.

Echo-

You'd have to ease Echo into this, he'd feel a little self conscious that you might feel any discomfort his implants and prosthetics might cause him, and you would, but having that open map would guide you to new ways to comfort him and make him feel good. He'd also find himself enjoying a type of relief basking in your mind. Like Hunter, he'd be enamored with feeling what he does to you and would try to heighten your experience more than focusing on himself.

Crosshair-

Cross isn't a selfish lover, but unlike Hunter and Echo he's very of the mindset that pleasure is a two way street. He'd more than likely take advantage of the connection by doing things that are mutually beneficial and might yield crazy results via feedback a la 69ing. More closed off and focused, Crosshair would have more control over holding your mind on task, easily keeping you away from parts of him he wouldn't want you to see.

Tech-

Where do I start?

Absolute dog shit at staying on task, once you let this little gremlin loose in your brain he'll start to rip you apart like an engine. Good luck keeping him out of your deepest darkest secrets, your half forgotten ruminations, dreams, and whatever other threads he gets his hands on. Not like it'd be much better, but you can also step into the whirring whirlwind resting in his brain pan. A single calculated thought releases so much mental energy you're floored immediately. There's not even sex yet, and since you'd be a helpless kitten of an rc car hooked up to the power of a jet engine you might as well let him run wild kriffing you within full efficiency.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Not that it moves the plot much besides being way too comfortable with each other too quickly, there are lasting effects of the Glitterstim on CrossXTahny.

She never gets a clean slate with the rest of the Batch Boys since she was exposed quite strongly to Crosshair's opinions of them. His opinions of them directly after Kamino. Yeah.

Also more of a fun fact, in case of alternative dimension shenanigans, Tahny would always be able to pick her Crosshair out of a line up. Even if it's between other Crosshair's that had Glitterstim experiences with other Tah'nyems.

Kids got little tan lines in the shape of each other burned into their brains.